#its ok whats a little mud | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theteasetwrites · 1 year

Text

Daddy's Home | Part 1

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 5 (Alexandria) ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT (18+)—oral sex (male receiving), dominant-ish Daryl, doggystyle, so much dirty talk, like one tiny spank (just a little one), mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, oh yeah and DADDY KINK, language ❧ Word Count: 4.3k

❧ Summary: When Daryl comes back home from a week away, he doesn't want to sleep. He just wants you.

❧ A/N: Ok so yes I know the title is ridiculous, but like... what else was I gonna call this oneshot ok? Anyway, here's some major daddy kink. Like a lot of daddy kink. Daryl is just daddy. Sorry but he is. I can't explain it. Actually, yes I can. He's a protector, a provider, a big softie. He's a daddy, and I don't even have daddy issues but just let me have this. Goodbye I am never showing my face here again. <;3 Also I simply cannot get over how hot he is in this gif holy mother of god.

The quiet was nice, late nights in Alexandria, gentle summer breeze prickling at your skin. It was nice to leave your bedroom window open through the night. Daryl hated it, always going on about how someone could climb the trellis outside your window and sneak in while you slept, but when he was gone, you’d indulge yourself in that one simple luxury.

When he told you that he was Alexandria’s newest recruiter, you knew you’d be in for some lonely nights ahead. Still, you also knew Daryl was the best man for the job—you’d seen him bring dozens of people to the prison, providing them shelter while expecting nothing in return, and then going out the next morning to do it all over again. That was when he wasn’t going out on his hunts to find food for everyone, often bringing home the biggest deer you’d ever seen, until he’d do it again next week, and bring home an even bigger one.

Yes, there was no doubt about it—Daryl knew what he was doing out there, but it didn’t stop you from worrying about him. Missing him. So while the quiet was, indeed, nice, you still could not get used to being alone, in this perfect little suburban townhouse, waiting.

Your waiting became so monotonous, sitting up in your bed and reading another old Agatha Christie novel, that you decided, at length, to migrate downstairs, the living room. When Daryl would come home, you thought, you’d greet him right away. That was how much you were anticipating his arrival.

One week was nothing, really, but it was the longest you’d been apart since knowing each other, and with the world the way it was, a lot could happen in seven days. A lot of bad, bad things.

So you flicked on the lamp, snuggled yourself into a knitted blanket, and curled up on the sofa, book in hand as you let out a quiet huff. “Daryl…” you said to yourself, scanning your book to relocate the exact sentence where you left off. “Where are you, you big meatball.”

Your nervous jitters only worsened with the passing hour, your legs shaking involuntarily, your finger tapping on the edge of the book, your toes wiggling nonstop. All you needed was the sound of that bike, that big, stupid bike. That would ease your fretful heart. Well, what would really make you happy was seeing that man of yours, no doubt in need of a shower, but still, your man nonetheless.

Speak of the Devil, as they say, and he doth appear.

It started out as just a distant hum, perking your ears and making your spine straighten in anticipation. Still frozen, you listened intently. A rumble, now, mechanical and getting louder with each second your heart began to beat faster. At one fateful moment, the roar of the makeshift machine was at its highest volume, and before you could even stand, a bright beam of white light shone through the blinds of the front window.

All at once, the light and the rumble ceased, punctuated by a low huff, followed by an exasperated grunt. Heavy footsteps plodded along in a familiar pattern—you even recognized the sound of his no doubt mud-caked boots scraping against the edge of the steps leading to the front porch. You could only hope that this time, he’d take the extra precaution of removing his boots before he stepped over the threshold.

There was a spring in your step, you wrapping the terry cloth fabric of your robe over your chest as you flitted towards the front door. Finally, you stood just a few feet back, your eyes transfixed on the shiny bronze doorknob. Inevitably, a wide grin made your cheeks swell until they almost ached, but the wait was worth it.

When he came through the door, his head was hanging low, until he felt your presence. Lifting his gaze, he met your great big smile with a smaller one, though the movement of his body betrayed him. The door shut with a strong thud, just before he stepped forward to let his crossbow fall from his shoulder. With a soft grunt under his breath, he buried his nose in the warmth of your shoulder, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips.

For a good while, he stayed like that, only taking in the sensory relief you provided him—your faint scent of rose, your softness, your tender chuckle as your hands rubbed in vertical motions up and down his aching back. Despite the rigidity of his tired muscles, he melted into you, letting himself bask in the comfort you provided him. To hold him like this was nothing short of a ritual between you two, whenever you were apart for long enough to begin missing each other to the point of near grief.

A man like Daryl—who’d been through so much as he had, who’d seen so much and had still so much room in his heart to give of himself to others—deserved to be held the way you held him. Few people in this world had a heart as big as him, though he did not show it in ways most people would recognize. He showed it in acts of service, in providing for people who could not provide for themselves, in the ones he loved safe. It was what you always adored about him: how he gave of himself, and expected nothing in return.

“Hey, there, tough guy.” Daryl buried his face deeper into you, now snug in the crook of your neck, where he caught the scent of your perfume, applied much earlier in the day, yet still lingering sweetly. Though you adored how much he clung to you, you longed so much to see his face. Your hands grabbed a hold of either side of his head to lift his gaze to yours.

As usual, his disheveled hair hung low over his forehead, obscuring one of your favorite features of his—his eyes. Between strips of tattered brown curtains, you could make out the blue-grey hue of his irises. Pushing them back, you smiled again at those deep-set pools of silvery cobalt blue. You always found their mystery to be intriguing.

“How are you?” you asked, though you knew from the state of him that he must’ve been exhausted. He hadn’t even muttered a word, and yet the more prominent than usual bags under his eyes spoke for him. “You must be tired, hon. Let’s get you in bed.”

But as you turned towards the staircase, a firm grip pulled you back by the wrist, until you were in his arms now, laughing at his sudden burst of energy. Despite your amusement, he did not smile, only looked at you with a heavy, dark gaze, and a lick of his lips.

In your surprise, you hadn’t even noticed that both of his hands were now wrapped around each wrist, so tight that you nearly feared he’d cut off your circulation.

Something was wrong, had to have been. You’d never seen him so… intense. Of course, Daryl could often be intense, when he was angry especially, but this wasn’t that. Anger was something you could recognize in Daryl. He’d never directed it towards you, but you knew it, and this was something different.

“Are… are you feeling okay, sweetie?”

Silence, just that gaze holding you hostage, and a heat rising from his body that you could’ve sworn caused a bead of sweat to form on your brow.

Now he was scaring you.

“Daryl?”

Your voice tempted him further. If only you knew just how much he missed you, how much he needed you. A week was too long. A week without you, a week without your touch, a week without your sweet, dulcet voice. And oh, how that voice awoke in him a terrible burning, a conflagration of deadly proportions, a fire that could only be extinguished by the one he loved.

Entranced by his stare, you hadn’t noticed that he had you pinned against the wall, his strong, heaving chest keeping you there.

And when he pressed himself against you, you knew. It was obvious, the way he nearly thrusted into you.

When you realized what he wanted, you felt a wave of relief wash over you: he needed you just as much as you had needed him the past week. From the night he left, you’d not stopped thinking of him, and when you’d turn in your bed to feel for him, and he wasn’t there, the ache for him only worsened.

There was no way in Hell, though, you were going to initiate sex when he got home. You knew he’d be tired, and a good night’s rest was what he needed before you even thought of asking him to make love to you, but now, with that wild look in his eyes, that hungry snarl in his lip, that flare in his nostrils, that beating of his heart…

“Oh,” you sighed, your teeth biting back your lower lip as your eyes trailed up and down his body. With your hands finally free, you ran them up his arms, letting them settle on the broad, firm shoulders you loved so much.

For just a moment, he leaned forward, forehead and tip of his nose meeting yours. With his hardening cock beginning to dig between your thighs, and his vaguely tobacco tinged musk tickling your senses, you could only utter one word.

A soft, nearly whimpering mewl: “Daddy.”

By the time he got you to the sofa, each of you were already panting, hands moving relentlessly as you both clawed for any part of each other’s body you could get your hands on. Your mouths worked tirelessly, tongues spinning sloppily around the other’s in your haste to finally have each other again.

When you successfully removed his leather angel-winged vest, you worked on unbuttoning his black shirt, but his hands stopped you.

“Need your mouth,” he said.

Leaning back on the sofa with a low grunt, he began unbuckling his belt, while you slotted yourself between his legs, hands massaging his clothed thighs, thick and flexing against your palm.

When his cock sprang out of its confines, you’d already stripped yourself of your underwear and your robe. In only a transparent silk nightgown, your hips swayed instinctively as you watched his hand begin to stroke himself, up and down the long, thick shaft you’d come to know and love so much.

“Come ‘ere.” His hands reached out to grab either side of your head, bringing you down to his cock. Panting lips began to drool a bead of saliva down the side of his growing erection. Knowing what he wanted, of course, you took the reddened, swelling tip into your mouth, much to his immediate relief.

“Fuck.” As your mouth slid a little lower, your hand wrapped around the base of his cock. His grip on your hair tightened as his head fell back on the arm of the sofa, a soft breath of your name on his lips.

Returning to watch you, he lifted your hair into a makeshift ponytail, tilting his head to get a better look at you, your eyes fluttering up to meet his gaze.

“Pretty angel.” Even just the utterance of that affectionate pet name made you feel an overwhelming need to touch yourself. With your free hand, you lifted your nightgown to slot your fingers between warm, velvety folds of aching flesh. “Ya look so good like this… Suckin’ on Daddy’s cock.”

It was somewhat of a tradition now, using that phrase, though only in the context of sex, in your most private, intimate moments. It was silly, you knew it, and he knew it, too, but you both found it excruciatingly sexy all the same. It was sacred in that you’d probably die of embarrassment if anyone else besides Daryl knew of your little… kink.

But neither of you could quite help it, you adoring his strong, protective nature, and him just finding it so alluringly sinful. Guilty pleasure type of thing, with emphasis on pleasure.

And besides, his dirty talk was sex all on its own.

As your mouth took him in progressively deeper, your fingers moved faster, increasing the friction against your sensitive spot, then slowly dipping down into the embrace of your entrance.

Not only could he admire your mouth, and your sweet soft moans, but he could watch your fingers enter you, your hand shaking as you penetrated yourself to match the rhythm you knew he liked when he had his cock in you.

“Love when you fuck yourself like that.” He only wished he was the one doing it. “You thinkin’ of me?”

Well, it was hard not to think of him, with his cock in your mouth.

Taking the opportunity to catch your breath, you answered him. “Yes, Daddy.”

His hands pulled you back down onto his cock, your lips forced open by his tip. “Just don’t make yourself come,” he said. “That’s for me.”

Yes, Daddy.

Sliding over your tongue, his cock dug deeper, towards the back of your mouth. Going down on him was always a bit of a challenge, given just how big he was, but the weight of him inside you, wherever that may be, was far more rewarding. And when you got to feel that little twitch, his cock moving all on its own as it begged for release… It only made you suck harder, sliding your mouth up and down, taking him in deeper until you were nearly gagging.

But he liked that, the sound of you struggling just a little to take all of him. Daryl was a sensitive man, yes, but he was still a man—proud of his big cock, even if he was insecure in most other areas. At least he was big, and at least he knew how to use it.

With his hand on the back of your head, firm, but still gentle enough to let you up if you needed it, he pushed you down just a bit more, hearing your gag become more guttural, more strangled. It did not hurt, though. It only turned you on, your fingers curling inside you to tickle that special spot, and your other hand fondling his balls, tightly drawn to the underside of the base of his cock.

For several moments, the only sounds coming from either of you were your strained groans, his slipping from between his agape lips, yours muffled by his length filling your entire mouth. Between those sounds of pleasure were the sloppy squelches of your lips soaking him with your saliva. You were always so messy when you went down on him, but how could you not be? His cock provided you no room to lick up your drool, stuffing you until your spit had nowhere else to go but down his veiny, hard length.

Of course, he’d have to tease you about it, how sloppy you were. “Messy girl,” he said, his hand gripping your hair to pull back your bangs. You fluttered your eyes open to meet his, and you were greeted by his crooked smile, with just a sliver of those shiny teeth showing. “Gettin’ Daddy all wet, huh? Nice and wet so I can fuck you good.”

Yes, Daddy.

Eyes rolling back slightly, he bucked his hips up with a jolt, your sucking beginning to tip him over the edge. Just in time, too, for your hand was getting tired of rubbing, and you needed him to finish you off.

“F-fuck, angel. Imma need ya to get that pussy ready for me.”

Whatever he wanted, you’d give him. After all, you were his good girl. Always his good girl. You couldn’t think of a time you’d ever been a bad girl for him. Daddy deserved his good girl.

Yes, you were a good girl, but you could still be… needy.

“Oh, Daddy.” Now straddling his waist, your fingers went straight for the first button on his shirt. “Want you.” He loved when you whined, just a little, and when you were so needy for him that you couldn’t quite make out a completely proper sentence. “Want your shirt off.”

He let you undo just a few buttons, exposing the hairs on his chest that drove you crazy, made you want to feel those wiry hairs between your pursed lips as you trailed your kisses all over his broad chest, made so strong and big by all the manual labor he did, and that heavy crossbow he always used.

That very same strength pulled at your wrists, then raised you up only to lay you down, sprawled out on the other side of the couch. Now he hovered over you, the tip of his cock hanging down to be tickled by the fabric of your blush pink nightie. He always liked pink on you, matched the color of your cheeks when he talked so dirty to you, made you feel like a whore, but not in a disrespectful way. Never in a disrespectful way.

Besides, you knew you were more than that to him. You knew he loved you. Two years together, through some of the most abject pain and suffering imaginable, would do that. But in moments like this, it felt good to be just his personal whore, whom he happened to love very, very much.

Tenderness blossomed between your lips and his, where he kissed you so deeply, so sweetly. And yet, you still clawed at his shirt, your fingers begging for him to let you see his gorgeous body, after so long away from him.

“Shit,” he laughed into your mouth. Sitting up, he began to undo the rest of the buttons, then peeled off his shirt with his chest puffed up, clearly a bit cocky. When your hands shot up to grasp at his pecs, the faded ink of the tattoo above his left nipple having taunted you, he chuckled again.

“Daddy,” you laughed back, your voice a drawn out, dramaticized whine. “Come on.”

Now you were testing him, and he held back the rest of his laughter to put on a stern, domineering face. “Hey, now. Be a good girl.”

He felt your thighs squeeze together underneath him, and your hips jolting upwards. He knew what you wanted, and he’d give it to you, but this position wasn’t quite right.

With a breathy grunt, he grabbed you by your waist, flipping you over, then lifting your bottom until it was sticking out at just the right angle. Lifting your nightie, he licked his lips to watch you move your hips from side to side, as if to taunt him.

“Cute little ass,” he practically cooed. Leaning over you, his chest pressed firmly to your back, he nuzzled his nose against your pillowy cheek. All the while, you felt his hand slide between your now nearly dripping wet folds. Eyes closed softly, you hummed a soft whimper at the feeling. His hands were always different from yours, so much bigger, stronger, rougher. You’d never felt a touch quite like his, and part of it was because he touched you with such tenderness, even if he tried to manhandle you a little. He was still always gentle, somehow.

In the most honeyed, silky, yet scratchy, voice, he rasped in a whisper, “Did ya miss me, angel?”

“Yes… Daddy, I missed you so, so much.”

“Mm, I missed you, too. So much.”

Finally, you felt his tip just barely graze your hole. Not only was he torturing you, he was torturing himself, but he loved it. He needed it, otherwise he was sure his peak of pleasure would go away just as fast as it would come. With you, in this moment, he needed to prolong the desire as much as he could. He could feel it coming soon, though, that tensing in his muscles, that tingling in the pit of his stomach, that twitching that made his cock seem to bounce against your folds on its own accord.

As he slid further into you, you felt his lips find the back of your neck, where he left little kisses the more he sank into you. It felt so good to feel him again, that fullness. It was a feeling only he could give you, his unique way of moving, his cock fitting so perfectly inside you.

Underneath your nightgown, his hands found your breasts. Tense, strong fingers curled like claws at the soft tissue. Even in his dreams, of which he had many while he was away, he could not recreate that texture—that pillowy soft flesh swelling against his fingers. And the inside of you, the warmth and tightness that hugged his cock and accepted him with each pass, in and out.

Soon, he leaned back to watch your body envelope his, the shiny, milky coating of your arousal making it easier to slip in and out of you, his hips thrusting in ever increasing speed.

“Daddy…”

God, he loved being called that. Much more than he should’ve. But, then again, he’d probably find you sexy even if you were calling him “dickhead.” He really didn’t mind, as long as you were calling him something.

“Mm, angel… Daddy’s here now, sweetheart.” He delivered a harder, stronger thrust, pulling a loud, strangled moan out from deep inside of you. “That feel good?”

“Fuck, yes!”

As if to praise you, he delivered just a small, weak slap to your bum. That was about as hard as he was willing to spank you, given how much he hated the idea of hurting you, but he knew you liked it, and he liked it, too, the clench of your body from the slap making him jolt forward.

“Takin’ it good… Real good.”

With one hand still squeezing your breast, the other now drawing tight circles over your clit, he made your lips tremble and your muscles tighten as you began to approach the height of pleasure. You could feel it, just on the brink of release. And he felt it, too, which was why he pulled himself out of you, flipping you over again like a ragdoll.

You were startled when he pulled you down by your ankles, until you were closer to him. He gave his fingers a good, long lick, then let them sink into you, where his cock had left you stretched wide open and dripping wet.

Three fingers. Three thick, strong fingers, curling up inside you, making you writhe and groan as your hands shot up to grasp at his shoulders. Through half-lidded eyes, you watched his neck bulge with the strain of trying to keep himself from coming, and it only aroused you more—those muscles flexing and throbbing and burning underneath hot, sweat-dripping skin, tanned by days on end out in the sun.

What he needed so badly was his own release, after so long of working so hard out there, risking his life for the good of Alexandria. As his forearm and biceps flexed with every push of his fingers inside of you, his chest heaved harder and harder, while you reached between your legs to find his cock. With your hand pulling on his length, and your walls clenching around his fingers as your release reached a tipping point, you both would soon be giving each other much needed relief.

“Daddy,” you sighed, tugging harder on his cock as frustration overtook you. The closer you got to orgasm, the more you couldn’t wait any longer. “Make me come… I wanna come.”

“Ah, angel… I’m gonna come, too.”

Just moments later, you tensed and gasped and writhed and moaned, rocking your hips upward as his fingers stayed inside you, squeezed by your contracting walls. “Oh, Daddy!”

He leaned forward to lay on top of you, his sturdy weight keeping you in place as you rode out your high, soaking his fingers with your arousal. The heat of your cheek seemed to burn his lips as he kissed you there, then rubbed his button nose in delicate circles to soothe you. “Yeah… Daddy’s got ya, sweetheart.”

With your hand still tugging on him, he gasped a heavy breath, spilling out over you right then and there, his hips thrusting into your hand in desperate, sloppy motions. The orgasm was so strong that he lost his composure for a moment, his head falling into your chest as he groaned your name, over and over and over again.

And now he freed his hand, using it to rub up and down the sides of your torso, your skin like fine silk under his worn, calloused fingers. In his hair were your hands, massaging his scalp the way you knew he liked, until he lifted his head to offer you a gentle smile.

“Mm, I’ll never get tired of that.”

You tilted your head with a wide grin. “I didn’t think you’d want to do it tonight. I thought you’d be exhausted.”

He breathed a low huff before rolling over onto his side. You did the same, letting him hold you with his chest pressed firmly to your back. There wasn’t much room on that tiny couch, but you made it work. After all, even if you were in bed upstairs, you’d probably still be this close to each other, clinging for dear life, never wanting to be separated again, though you knew someday you’d have to.

“I am,” he said. “Just… I dunno, needed you, s’all.” Observant as he was, he took notice of your shivering, and reached back to grab the knitted blanket that had been draped over the back of the couch. He covered the both of you, then tucked his chin into your shoulder, where it seemed to fit perfectly. “Missed ya so much, could hardly stand bein’ without you.”

Even now, after you thought you’d be used to his sweet words, he still had a way of sending those butterflies aflutter. “Well, now you’re back home.”

That sounded so good to him—back home.

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated!

Masterlist

Part 2 (coming soon)

#daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfic #twd #twd fanfiction #norman reedus fanfic #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus x reader #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead smut #twd smut

2K notes · View notes

ghouljams · 1 year

Note

currently Terminally In Love with your fae!Simon au, and it has resulted in some ✨Thoughts✨

so, the bond that’s between Simon and reader — we’ve seen how it functions as a kind of honing beacon that allows Simon to know if reader is being fucked with by any other fae who dare to touch what he’s laid claim to… but from what I could discern the mark reacted so violently and allowed him to come to reader’s rescue solely because it was reacting to foreign fae magic… does it work the same for physical, nonmagical harm?

(and further, asking for the girlies…. what would Simon feel through the bond if the reader were to die 😚)

So glad you asked because it means I get to do some horror stuff. The short answer is Ghost's mark doesn't react the same way to human danger, it just pings Ghost to let him know there's trouble. The long answer is, the mark is stupid and will lash out at anything that is scaring MC, which sometimes includes Simon. Most of the time it just functions as an alarm system, but there's an adjustment period when Simon sort of has to train it on who it's ok to bite.

You've been followed since you got off the train. He's not even being stealthy about it. You make a turn, he turns, you stop, he stops, always a few steps behind you. No one else seems to notice or care. You look over your shoulder and see the same crewneck, the same beady eyes. His lips curve red into a smile when he knows you spot him. Your chest is tight, you try not to look at him. You thought you were past this, always looking over your shoulder isn't a good look. Then again neither is being dead. Better to be paranoid and alive.

It's getting dark. You don't live that far from the station, at least you didn't think you did. Maybe it's fear making the street feel longer, emptier. You pick up the pace, hearing the sentiment echoed behind you. The thud of footsteps getting progressively louder and closer, until you're forced to sprint. The effort is wasted immediately as you're grabbed and dragged into the nearest alley. Your chest squeezes with fear, your heart pounding in your ears as you're thrown against the brick wall. The buzz under your skin expands and contracts with your breaths, trying to do anything but calm you down. You think it might actually be driving your anxiety higher, towards a full blown panic, as the man grips your arms tight and grins down at you.

"Don't you know it's dangerous for little girls to wander alone at night?" He asks, he's close enough you can smell the alcohol on his breath. Your skin hurts where he touches you, bubbling with something you can't put a name to. The buzzing doesn't fit right, it slams against your ribs as you draw in shuddering breaths, there’s nothing for it to latch onto. You glance towards the mouth of the alley, the street was so empty, who would see you? This isn't right, he told you you'd be safe-

Something wet hits your face. The buzzing under your skin is reaching a fever, shaking you to your bones. You look up at the man, at the thick red and black mud falling from between his lips. He gives a wet cough. Your eyes drag to the black talons protruding from his chest, a hole punched through his ribs as if it were paper. The ribs themselves are warped outward and folded back away from the intrusion, more like wire than bone. You can't tear your eyes away from the sight, from the slick clawed hand dragging its way backwards through the viscera as you feel your buzzing start to move.

The silhouette that the collapse of your aggressor reveals is abyssal. Absorbing the shadows of the rest of the alley in a way you've never seen before. The air around it swirls with them. It's holding the man's heart in one clawed hand, tipping it's head back to swallow the organ whole. You are pretty sure you're having a panic attack. The abyss moves towards you like a ghost, and the buzz under your skin takes hold and forces you to MOVE.

The nose your fist collides with is startlingly human.

"You little bitch," Ghost snarls, making a grab for you as you sprint from the alley. Your feet slide against the sidewalk as you round the corner. The buzz under your skin rears back and strikes as his claws just miss you. "Not me you stupid-" he swears, you think he swears, you don't understand it but the buzz cowers.

You don't stop. Not even when you pass the door to your flat. You run because you can hear him running after you, can hear the scratch of his claws on brick and concrete as he tries to grab you. The gouges that he leaves in everything he touches, you don’t need to imagine what he could do to you, you saw it. You catch a glimpse of him as you turn a corner, his teeth are bared, his movements wild and animalistic.

His claws wrap around your throat, and you’re slammed into a wall for the second time tonight. He’s huge when he presses against your back, his chest expanding around his labored breathing in tandem with yours. You try to turn your head to look at him and he yanks your head back to stare at the stars. You both breathe, the night filled with the sound of your desperation. You swing your arm behind you to try and hit him, anything to make yourself more difficult prey. He catches your wrist easily and twists it behind your back, growling in your ear as he leans his weight on you.

“Not Me,” He tells you, it thrums through you like a universal truth, the buzz under your skin going warm and shivery, “You don't run from me. Not unless I tell you.” You nod, desperate to do something to ease your situation. “Good girl.”

His hand slides through your hair, fingers pressing to your forehead, and it all goes black.

You jolt awake shaking like a leaf. You press a hand to your mouth, choking down a sob. You’re terrified, it’s too dark in here, your skin feels like it’s been scrubbed raw, you feel like you’ve run a marathon. It must have been a nightmare, it must have been.

Simon turns on the light by the bed, woken up by your movements. “What’s wrong?” He asks, still half asleep. You shake your head, trying to get the shaking to stop. You feel like your body is trying to rip itself apart. Simon reaches a hand towards you and you jerk away, falling in a heap off the edge of the bed. You scurry away from him, you need distance, you need to get away from him. From the nightmare. Your back hits the wall as Simon stands.

“What did I say?” His eyes tear holes through you, you press against the wall trying to make yourself small as he stalks towards you, “Not. Me.”

#tw stalking #nonconsensual predator/prey dynamic #i guess???#Love's mark fucking BIT him #Fae!Ghost #being absolutely feral and scaring the hell out of Love #He'll tap her good so she forgets don't worry #do we all like the horror? Just me? Well that's fine I'm my own target audience #simon ghost x reader #reader x ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #this is something that will likely get heavy updates in the actual fic #because I worry it is too vague #hmmmmm perhaps I should write some ghost perspective stuff

513 notes · View notes

mvltisstuff · 1 year

Text

head over heels - e.b

summary: after y/n rescues an abandoned puppy, she brings it home to buck who slowly falls in love with it

evan buckley x reader

y/n was busy driving home after her shift, and she was calling hen, who was busy ranting about something someone did at work. obviously focused on the road, she was also listening to the story hen was telling her.

“i mean it’s ridiculous! i told him several times to do it and he never did!” hen yells through the phone onto y/n’s speaker. “i don’t know if he’s just bad at his job or what.”

“he might just be adjusting to working here. that was not a normal thing, though.”

“i guess, but still.”

y/n was on an almost empty side road, the lack of other vehicles was definitely noticeable. the sides were just tall grass and dirt with a few pieces of trash someone threw out their window. she was looking around in the wet dirt and saw something almost completely blending in, but there was certainly something there. it was breathing a bit, it’s chest rising suspiciously slow. she thought about just driving away, it was probably just a squirrel or something. but it looked to big to be a squirrel. y/n saw it’s little head peek out, and it looked like a more domestic animal. her focus on hens words had become faint because she was paying attention to something else. something was telling her that something was wrong. she felt like this animal was not supposed to be there. no animal should be there, sad and alone on the side of the road, but this one felt particularly worse.

“hey, hen?” y/n starts, cutting her off. “i’ve gotta go.” she pulls over to the side of the street, checking her blind spots and grabbing her phone before leaving her car. when she walks out, she slowly walks up to the sad creature that was still laying in the mud. the small animal was a puppy, couldn’t be older than a few months. the poor thing was whining and making small whimpers. y/n was shocked, not really knowing what to do. of course everyone has seen videos of animals being rescued, but once you’re in that position, you don’t know what to do. she doesn’t make any abrupt moves or sounds so she doesn’t scare the already traumatized dog. y/n could tell by its eyes that it had seen some things.

“ok, buddy,” she begins. “stay here, you’ll be ok.” she walks back to her car, taking out an old t-shirt and carefully wrapping the puppy up in it. the white whisps of fur were almost completely concealed by the pileup of dirt on his itchy skin. y/n checked around for any extra abandoned animals before bringing him to her car. she made a few phone calls before bringing him into a local emergency vet. he had no collar or tag, and clearly he was not wanted if he got out so young and no one looked for him. he was incredibly light, despite being so young. his tiny body was strong, though, being able to move around. he was scared and y/n wanted to cry and scream for this poor dog who couldn’t advocate or save himself.

“he seems alright,” the vet says. “we gave him some food and medication to make him feel a bit better, but there aren’t really any medical concerns for him. he’s going to be on edge for a bit, but he seems like he’ll be healthy.”

it seemed like a miracle, which is hard to see with these situations. the tiny puppy was a fighter for sure, and was so lucky that y/n had found him. “so, what should i do now?”

“you can bring him to a shelter if you don’t want him, or-“

“no, i don’t want him going to a bad shelter here in LA.” y/n looks at the little guy, wrapped up in a clean blanket and smelling around on the table. her heart melted a bit at this adorable puppy, wanting to just scoop him up and never look back. “i’ll take him home. i’ll figure something out.”

on the way home, y/n had stopped at the local pet shop to pick up a few small things. she figured he would stay tonight, so she gathered things like food and a bed for him and a few toys to make him feel more safe and happy. she had drawn a warm bath for him to get any extra dirt off, which revealed his shiny, white coat and he was already looking much happier. she worked on building trust, but had already forgotten about her second companion at home. she lives in bucks apartment with him. she didn’t think he would be upset, but a complicated schedule would probably stray him away from a young puppy. however, that wasn’t going to stop her from caring for this helpless puppy.

y/n had been brushing his coat and playing with him a bit, trying to warm him up with some food. he was still a bit scared from loud noises of neighbors and quick movements, but he was in much better condition than when he was discovered.

“y/n?” buck starts walking around, placing his things on the counter and slipping off his shoes. “y/n? i’m home.” he doesn’t hear a reply, but he surely noticed the scattered dog toys and the water bowl. he sighs and prepares himself for what is likely in his apartment.

“shoot, i didn’t text him!” y/n says, cleaning up the mess in the bathroom from cleaning him up. she hears bucks footsteps walking up the stairs, and she knows she’s in for an earful.

“hey, y/n, what’s all that pet st-“ buck stops in his tracks when he sees a small puppy in y/n’s arms, cradling him like a baby. the tub was draining dirty water, and the white bundle was in a towel. now it was his turn to be speechless. buck loves animals, but he definitely would’ve liked some warning before she bought she dog.

“before you say anything or get mad,” y/n interrupts. “i was driving home from work, and i saw his little body on the side of the road. i couldn’t leave him, buck! it was so sad, he was so scared and i couldn’t just drive away!”

“baby, i am not mad,” buck smiles and walks closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. “i was just not expecting this today, that’s all. but are you sure he wasn’t just lost?”

“he had no collar or tag on him. it was also in the middle of nowhere, he couldn’t have gotten there on his own and made it that far.”

“i don’t- can we take care of a dog? he’s going to need attention and all that stuff.”

“we know a lot of people who can watch him when one of us can’t. we’ll be here most of the time for him, too. i know you can’t say no to this face!” she babies her voice at the end, looking at the puppy and facing him toward buck. he gives him a quick scratch behind his big ears.

“fine, he’s cute,” he finally admits. y/n gives him a confused look and the puppy gives him those eyes. “ok well when he looks at me like that, how can i say no? he’s adorable!”

“that’s why i brought him home! he’s all healthy and all he needs is a few vaccinations.”

“does he have a name?”

“no, i’ve been calling him boy for the past hour. i wanted to wait for you.”

“did you have anything in mind?” he says, leading everyone out to the bed.

“i think apollo was cute, greek fighter, destroyer.”

“is he going to destroy our house?”

“no! but he’s a little fighter guy, he’s tough, aren’t you?” she says, picking him up and holding him in the air.

the next few days had been long, staying up with a crying puppy at night and trying to make him comfortable in a new home. they were just glad he wasn’t anywhere else, like some abusive home or neglectful shelter.

after a night out with some of her friends, y/n had come home at around 10:30. she had put her purse on the table, and expected her boyfriend to come up and greet her. all she heard were deep snores from the bed upstairs. all of the lights were on, so buck probably just fell asleep watching TV.

y/n walked up the stairs only to be confronted by her boyfriend and apollo, who was snuggled into bucks arms and peacefully sleeping. she covered her mouth and let out quiet giggles, taking a picture to show buck in the morning. she walks over and scoops up the young dog. he groaned and yawned in her arms. “apollo, i bought you a nice bed for a reason!” she whispers and places him in his crate, closing the door so he wouldn’t get hurt roaming around the apartment. “goodnight, buddy.” she says to the already sleeping puppy.

y/n had just stepped out of the shower, changing into a pair of clothes and brushing out her wet hair. “y/n!” buck yells. “come here!”

oh god, she thinks. either the two of them got into mischief together, or apollo did something wrong and buck summoned y/n to fix it. her worries are settled when she sees apollo on the floor in front of buck, who was dangling a treat. “look what he learned! apollo, sit.” he obeyed bucks words, and buck cheers him on with a huge smile before looking at y/n. “he’s learning! you’re a good dog, pollo.”

“you know, when i brought him home i definitely didn’t expect you two to become best friends.”

“well you know what they say,” buck says, pecking y/n’s lips as she sits down next to him.

after a normal day, y/n and buck were upstairs on their shared bed. y/n was straddling buck, both of them making out. they were fully dressed, finally out of work clothes and being able to spend time together. “you’re so beautiful, buck.” y/n says, before realizing how distracted he is. “you ok?”

“y-yeah! i’m great, it’s just him,” he says pointing to apollo. “we can’t have sex in front of him, he’s our child!”

“do you want me to put him in the bathroom or something? he can’t get into anything in there.”

buck thinks about it, ready to say yes, but apollo had other plans. he leaps onto the bed, giving small licks to both of their faces. y/n looks at buck, who has an apologetic look on his face. “alright, buddy. you win!” y/n says, slightly defeated by the little guy. “but you are not ruining my sex life.”

“honey, don’t say that in front of him!” buck shouts under his breath.

“it’s not like he heard me!”

“still, his ears are too innocent for that.” y/n rolls her eyes and moves apollo in between them as she moves to the side.

apollo had gotten significantly bigger, now in his awkward puppy stage. his legs were a little too long, his coat was growing in a weird way, but he was still the same old apollo. y/n and buck had brought apollo to the dog park, along with christopher and eddie. christoper adores apollo, taking any opportunity to watch him play around. eddie was throwing a ball around with chris and apollo, watching the dog run after it and bringing to back again. they took turns throwing it so he could fetch it, chris had even been throwing sticks for apollo to run after.

y/n and buck watched from the side, their dog running back up the them every time, jumping up in excitement. they gave him encouraging words with high pitched voices, like he just graduated high school. they were offering him treats and water, and asking him questions like he could answer. eddie mockingly asks them, “why do you guys treat him like he’s royalty?”

“because he runs our house?” buck retorts back at him in question form.

“you wouldn’t get it, dad,” says christopher.

“get what? we don’t even have a dog, how do you get it?”

“i just do, okay?” eddie shakes his head and lets them praise this dog like he just won an academy award.

buck wraps his arm around y/n’s waist, standing behind her and placing his chin on her shoulder. “i think you found a good dog, y/n.”

“i think he found us. plus i called it, i knew you’d fall in love with him immediately.” they watched their no longer tiny dog run around with his friends, his new red collar and bone shaped name tag. apollo didn’t care how they lived their life, because dogs will love people as long as they’re good to them, and they saved his life.

bonus w buck and apollo 🥲:

y/n had come upstairs after cleaning up the living room a bit, just reorganizing some of her stuff and fixing bucks things. when she walked up, she saw buck and apollo on the floor. apollo was dressed up in one of bucks shirts with LAFD and his name on the back. “look! he’s a fire dog!” y/n was laughing hysterically at what they’d gotten into. she left him alone for two minutes and he had already dresses him in human clothes.

“buck, he looks pissed,” y/n says. “he looks like he’s ready to bite your fingers off.”

“he would never! he looks great! maybe he should work at the station.”

“you’d get fired from being a disturbance to the dog,” y/n jokes, thinking of how buck will always just walk up to him and talk to apollo like a toddler and giving him gentle pets and scratches.

“you’re a hypocrite, you would do the same thing.”

“touché,” she says kissing his forehead, smiling at buck and his best friend.

#911 #911onfox #bobby nash #eddie diaz #evan buckley #evan buckley fanfic #evan buck buckley x reader #evan buckley x reader #athena grant #henrietta wilson #howie han #maddie buckley

555 notes · View notes

bloodyjuls-blog · 11 months

Text

Dogs United - Lucy Bronze

I'm not British, I've only been in England a few times and no, I don't play football. But here I am sitting in the stands of the stadium where the opening match between England and Haiti will be played, literally on the other side of the world. And how did I turn out to be here? On an evening in September last year I was on holiday in Manchester and with my friends we decided to go to a nearby park to relax and enjoy some good weather.

"Oi y/n what about to play football?" One of my friends said. "I'm not going to make a fool of myself eh, you guys play and I'll just watch from over here" I said amused. "Well your loss then" Brenton said. Out of nowhere comes a white dog full of mud and runs across my feet, luckily it didn't stain my clothes. The dog looked lost, so I decided to take it and wait for its owner to come and get it. Suddenly I hear the screams of a girl, well, a hot girl with a gorgeous body, "Narla, Narla, where are you? I let her come closer and when she is in my vision I say "Hey are you the owner of this dog?" I said a little serious. "Yes, who are you and what are you doing with my dog" she said between anger and agitation. "And you're getting angry mate? I could always let the dog run, eh? I said in my poor English, which I understood. "It's true, I'm sorry, it's just that it's as if she was my daughter," she said, calming down. "Don't worry, I'm like that with my dogs" I said in an amused tone. "You're not from here, are you? "said Lucy. "No, I'm from Barcelona and apparently you are from here" i said. "Yes, well not from Manchester properly but I have lived here for a long time". She said looking at Narla. "Well girl, I'm leaving, my friends are already calling me, nice to meet you..."? I said by way of goodbye. "Lucy, my name is Lucy" "well Lucy a pleasure and try not to lose your dog" I said in a joking tone. "bye bye, nice to meet you too" he said and walked away.

"So, what about you and that girl?" my best friend said. "Nothing, she had lost her dog and she turned out to be the one I was petting" I said relaxed waiting for the food to be brought. "And I see that you liked her eh" "she's pretty yes, but I don't know more, the only thing is that her name is Lucy and she's from around here apparently" I said "not even a phone number or instagram, daughter? I can see that you're kind of short girl" he says very funny. "No way. But what time does our flight leave?" I said. "Around 9 pm. So, in 4 hours" says my friend Martina. "Ok.

A week later in a park in Sant Joan Despí, Barcelona.

"Hey Claudio, bring the ball, we're leaving now" I say to my 3 year old Tibetan Mastiff. "This dog is going to drive me crazy, how can he have so much energy" I say to myself, tired of chasing him all over the park. When I take him by the leash he gives me a slight push and I see a girl who looks very familiar to me looking for something. "AHH I remembered, this is the girl from Manchester" I said to myself. "Hey Lucy, you've lost your dog again" I said between worried and amused. "Hey hi, yeah and I can't find her" looking so worried Claudio comes over and starts sniffing her. "Well look, it's your lucky day. Claudio likes to look for things, maybe he can help you to look for her" I say with optimism. "Buah would you do that for my boy?" He says to Claudio tickling his head. "Well, do you have something of your dog for Claudio to smell and look for? I say more seriously. "Yes look, the ball I was playing with" she gives it to Claudio and he soon finds Narla hiding behind the bushes.

"But look who we have here" I turn to look at Narla and find that her paw is in a funny shape and she looks scared. "Hey Lucy, be careful, apparently she has something in her paw" I say looking Lucy in the eyes. "No my baby, I guess the right thing to do is to take her to the vet" she says a little worried. "I was just going to suggest that, in case she has a broken paw or something" I say calmly. "Do you know a good vet to take her to? I haven't been in Barcelona for long and I don't know about this". She asks me. "Of course, girl, there is one in the centre, if you want I'll take you there, I have the car parked over there" I pointed to the car park. "Well come on, let's go".

In the car park...

"So, which is your car?" Lucy asked pointing to the pile of cars in the car park. "That one over there" I said pointing to the grey range rover. "Oi nice car y/n" said Lucy amused. "Well come on, let's go" I said as I attached Claudio's leash to the harness. "Do you mind if I drop Claudio off at home first and then we go to the vet?" "Yeah sure, whatever you want" we headed to my house. To be true my house is too big for me alone but the garden is for my dogs. "You live alone?" Lucy asks a bit incredulous at the size of the house. "Yes, and with my other boys" "You have a boyfriend then?" "What? No Lucy for goodness sake, my boys are my other dogs hahaha but no, I'm single. What about you? Do you have a partner" I say laughing "AHH I get it, no I don't have a PARTNER hahaha." She says amused. "I see you got the memo" I laugh. "So, tell me a little bit about yourself" Lucy asks me. "Well, I'm 28 years old, I've been living in Barcelona for about 15 years but I'm from San Sebastian. Single, 3 big dogs and a lot of free time" "What about you" I ask. "Well, you know, my name is Lucía Roberta but I like to be called Lucy. I'm 31 years old and I've been living in Barcelona for 6 months, I don't have a partner, and Narla is my only company together with my work mates" "well not so bad eh girl" "a bit boring my life too I tell you" says Lucy joking.

"Well we have arrived" I say parking the car in front of the vet's office. "Where are we going?" she says to me, "well, here we are, Hi Pedrito. Look, this dog got lost in the park a little while ago and when we found her she looked like she had a broken leg. Can you take a look at it please" I say seriously. "Sure boss, do you know anything about the owners?" He looks at me and looks at Lucy. "Yes, she is the owner.

Some time later...

"Well, this baby doesn't have a broken leg or anything, she's just a bit hurt, the x-rays have come out clean and I think that if you give her a painkiller and she can't run around the park too much for a few days then she'll be fine" says Pedrito looking at Lucy. "Thank you very much, really". Lucy says happily. "And you too y/n, I didn't know you were the boss" she says in a funny accusatory way. "Well we never talked about work baby" I said laughing. "Well that's true too" "put your location to drop you home" I said looking at Lucy and Narla who was sleeping in her arms.

Already at Lucy's door...

"Well, here we are" I say to Lucy and get out to open the car door for her. "Such a gentlewoman" she says flirtatiously. "For you my queen" "thank you for today y/n and Manchester". "No worries Lucy" I say smiling. "I was wondering if you wanted to go to dinner tomorrow as a thank you?" she says glaring at me. "Yes I want to come with you Lucy" her shinny eyes look at me. "well I'll pick you up at 7" "well Lucy" I go over to say goodbye with two kisses and at that moment she steals a kiss on my lips and leaves.

The day I realised who Lucy Bronze was, it was by chance. I already had my suspicions that Lucy could be an influential person in the world of sport but I had never realised that thought and as I was madly in love with her I didn't even care to know what she did for a living. I just thank existence for having such a goddess by my side. But well, the day I discovered that Lucy was Lucy was when my crazy lesbian friends found a tweet that said there were rumours that a women's team for the third time in the champions league was going to fill the camp nou. And yes, I am a crazy lesbian but I know as much about sports as I know about astrophysics, which is to say, nothing. When my friend Jade showed me the photos I recognised Lucy and of course, at that moment everything made sense.

I decided to surprise Lucy at her next match and go to see her "she will be happy" I thought. So I pulled my contacts and my friend Jade, who is dating a Barça guy, gave me some tickets for the match in the VIP area near the stadium. Having sorted that out, I decided to buy a t-shirt of my girl and wait for the day of the match.

When I arrived at my seats the first thing I thought was that this stadium is very big and that only the best can play there and I wasn't wrong. When the girls came out to warm up it was a show, everyone shouted, made noise, sang club songs and on two occasions they sang "un día de partit...". I had already learnt it. When I saw the last player leave I was in shock. My girl in shorts and playing sport is from another world, but seeing how perfect she looks in the blaugrana colour made me feel things. How good she looks doing sport and I was like a lost puppy watching her. I can't believe that it's been almost 6 months since we've been together and I've never seen her doing sport, if my girl is such a sweetheart. When the game was over I saw the girls coming to give autographs and take pictures, so I went over and waited for Lucy to approach the group where I was. As she was heading this way I waited until I was the last person she was going for a photo and I said "Lucia Roberta, will you take a photo with me?" To which she turns around and looks at me and is shocked. I laugh "can you sign my t-shirt too?" She comes out of her trance and slyly takes the picture with me and signs my t-shirt.

Back at my house we have a few laughs while I tell her how I realised she was a footballer. "So you accidentally realised that I play football," she says to me with a laugh. "Yes love, and you know I don't know anything about football, so add to that the fact that I spent the whole game trying to figure out what was going on" "hahahahaha I imagine you looking like a lost puppy, oh baby" she comes closer and gives me a cuddle "I'm not laughing, now it's your responsibility to teach me the basics so I don't get bored" I tell her between kisses. "I'd love to, honey". "One thing love, it didn't bother you that I went like that without warning?" I say a little more seriously. "No babe, actually it was a nice surprise, the girls want to meet you."

Weeks before she left for camp....

"Baby I want to go on a weekend holiday to the beach, are you in?" I say to Lucy as I go looking at accommodation and flights. "A weekend you and me alone on a beach, where do I sign up?" she says super happy. "Come on, I'll book everything" I lean over and give her a little kiss. "Oh love, my parents have a yacht in Ibiza and they have told me that if we want to use it we should let them know so they can arrange everything" she says casually. "Your parents have what? Hey tell me the truth, are you and your family one of those posh ones or what?" I laugh and nod my head. "Yeah Lucia Roberta, my parents have money hahaha" I look at her playfully. "Now it makes sense that you are so stubborn and capricious" she tells me amused. "That's how you love me sweetheart" I blow her a kiss.

And that's how I turned out in Australia watching the love of my life participate in what will possibly be her last world cup (according to what she explained to me because I swear that what I know the most about football is the goal).

#woso #fc barcelona femeni #lionesses #woso x reader #woso imagines #fcb femeni #woso fic #lucy bronze imagine #lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze #england lionesses #lionesses x reader

296 notes · View notes

coveredinsweetpea · 9 months

Text

A/n: I let the whore out for this one 🤭 and I'm not even ashamed? I wanted to make it more filthy but I decided to not push it 😬 but lemme know if you liked this one!!! I'd love to write more!! Summary: just the story of perv!bouncer!Eddie x dumb!ice-cream vendor!reader and the little white lie he used in order to get you where he wanted you. (KINKY) 4.6k Warnings: so first off, perv!Eddie (he's a bit of a meanie) and dumb!reader, ok? He takes advantage of you, oopsie. Humiliation, degradation, lying and gaslighting, pet names, groping, very strong D/s vibes although not established, spit kink, a hint of dubcon? (only if you squint). Needless to say, 18+!! (also I wrote this in one go don't @ me if it's shitty)

You shouldn't have worn heels - it was late at night, you were running late and while the rain had stopped, the mud still managed to splash its way up to your ankles. And come to think of it, the skirt hadn’t been that good of an idea either, not for the metal concert you were attending at least, but you were two blocks away and it was too late to turn back now.

Before entering the venue, you stopped at the corner, fixed your hair and your shoes with a napkin you found around your purse, and prayed to the gods that even though the concert should have already started, the bouncer would still be there to give you a ticket and allow you inside.

“Eddie!” you exclaimed relieved. He was just about to stand up from his little booth when you burst inside the building, and his eyes widened when he realized who you were.

While it truly hadn’t been that long since you last saw each other, it surely felt like it. The last time you saw him was at his graduation, one week after you finished junior year. Currently, almost two years had passed since you yourself were done with school.

“Y/n, wow. I haven’t seen you in ages, how are you?”

“Good, good, I’m good” you huffed, getting ready to fish the money for the ticket out of your purse. “You work here?”

“Yeah. I’m a bartender but something came up and our guy had to leave for a bit. I’m just covering for him.”

“Oh, ok. Cool”

“Did you come for the concert? It’s about to start”

“Yeah, mhm. I know I’m a bit late.” you said, picking out the dollars out of your purse one by one. When you decided your bag should be cute and fit your outfit rather than actually be useful, you didn’t imagine you’d have to embarrass yourself like this. “Here’s 7 dollars-” you mumbled handing him the money, “Wait, I have three more, just give me a second”

“Y/n…” Eddie said as he hesitated to take it from you. “It’s 30 dollars.”

“30 what?” you gasped. “I thought it was 10”

“It was 10, until like an hour ago. You should’ve bought it in advance, tickets are always more expensive at the door”

“You must be kidding me” you cried, “I can’t pay 30$ for a concert of a band I barely even heard about”

“Then don’t” Eddie chuckled, “It’s not that big of a deal, it’s only going to last one hour tops”

“Yeah but my friend likes the vocalist. I promised her I’d be there”

“Then pay?”

Instead of going back to explaining why you really didn’t feel like doing that, you straightened your back and grinned. “Eddie…”

“I’m not interested," he laughed in a heartbeat, fully aware of the tactics you might want to try on him.

“Free ice cream for the whole month!” you belted, grabbing his shoulder to help you get your point across. “You know you can’t say no to that”

“I never even bought ice cream from your shop, Y/n, no”

“Two months!”

“Baby girl, buy the ticket or wait for the concert to end. I can’t just let you in”

“Yes, you can” you scoffed, stomping your foot against the floor. “Since when do you care about the rules?”

“Since my job is at stake, sweetheart”

“Who’s gonna know? Right, no one. So pleeeeease, Eddie! Pretty please with a tiny and sweet cherry on top?”

He was thinking about it, it was obvious the wheels were turning. His eyes traveled along the length of your body as he licked his lips, and that gave you hope. But unfortunately, when he looked back up into your eyes, he shook his head, “I’m sorry, I can’t”

“You can” you pouted, “You just don’t want to”

Eddie tapped his chin, “I guess that’s true. There’s nothing in it for me, so…”

“Asshole!” you giggled and hit his side. “Just tell me what you want, you got it”

“Anything I want?”

“Anything!”

“Anything, anything?” Eddie laughed.

“Just say it, you jerk”

But he didn’t really say it. What he did however was lean behind his little desk and then stand back up with a small camera in his hand. With one eyebrow raised, he motioned with his head to one of the small back rooms to the side, and that should’ve been your cue to at least try offering him ice cream again.

"I can't believe I'm doing this" you nervously giggled as you placed your purse on one of the chairs you found laying around. More things crossed your mind while you took your jacket off but you kept quiet, only turning around to face Eddie when you were left in your tank top and skirt. "This is stupid. I'm being stupid, right?"

"It's just a little bit of fun" he smiled, moving the camera from one hand to the other. "You absolutely don't have to do it if you don't feel comfortable"

"Comfortable getting naked for a stranger to take pictures of me?" you laughed in disbelief.

"Are you?"

His raised eyebrow and the confidence he had made you unconsciously rub your thighs together. "Don't hold this over my head, ok?"

"It's just a few pictures, Y/n, no big deal"

"I know" you pouted and crossed your arms in front of your chest. "But I don't want you to think I'm a slut or something. I don't do stuff like this"

"There's a beginning for everything, sweetheart. What if you end up loving it and want to take more?"

"Yeah, right" you rolled your eyes and felt a very strong urge to look anywhere else but at him. "Ok, how do you want them?"

He thought about it for a second. "Take your top off, we'll see from there"

The little bit of conscious thinking still present inside your mind had a very hard time accepting just how fast your hands worked to remove your shirt. The second that piece of clothing went over your head, your cheeks started burning and a very painful but familiar feeling awakened in your core. Half naked and maybe a little bit confused, you turned to look at Eddie - who was grinning from ear to ear, getting ready to snap the picture.

"Say cheese!"

You didn't say it, but you did straighten your back, smiled, and even put on a cute pose with your hands beside your cheeks.

"You've done this before?" Eddie laughed after taking the picture as he waited for it to slip out of the device.

"No, why?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "It's a nice picture"

"Let me see" you said and bubbled over to him, looking at the picture as it exited the camera. "Oh, yeah. You're right! It really is cute"

"Told you, sweetheart" Eddie grinned and grabbed your chin.

You instinctually followed and tilted your head up to look at him, shame spreading across your body as you reveled in his little words of praise. "What next?"

"Bend over that desk over there"

Without as little as a hint of hesitation, you walked over to the desk, planted your chest on top of it and pushed your skirt up over your ass.

"See why I'd think you've done this before?" he laughed and slapped your ass. "I didn't even tell you to lift your skirt"

"You were about to anyway, I'm just ahead of you"

"Such a good, little girl"

As much as you hated to admit, the way he groped your ass, and his fingers - rough and digging into your skin, it all made you squirm under his touch. You remained motionless and sat there quietly, only your feet wobbling a bit from the uncomfortable position as you allowed him to do his thing. "Can I take these off?" Eddie asked, his pointer finger already hooked behind the little piece of fabric that covered your cunt.

"Yeah, mhm" you nodded eagerly. "Do what you want"

Maybe you shouldn't have said that. But a part of you forgot about the concert and was too focused on Eddie's touch, on his presence behind you, the fact that you couldn't see him making all your senses go off the rails.

But a deal was a deal and Eddie wasn't about to break it… that much. After pushing your underwear to the side, the cold air hit your already heated and sensitive core. "Can I see how wet you are, doll?"

You nodded.

And his finger slipped right in, knuckle deep, his big, silver ring barely visible between your damp, puffy folds.

"How about two?"

"...ok"

"Three? Can you take three?" Eddie asked, slipping his fingers inside without wasting time to hear your answer.

A soft moan broke past your lips and your back arched the way he was filling you up, little tears of pleasure gathering at the corners of your eyes. "Eddie" you cried.

"Yeah, puppy?"

But only a grunt escaped your throat as you let your forehead fall against the desk.

When he didn't get an answer from you, he just chuckled and the next thing you heard was the sound of the camera going off.

"Cute" Eddie said, retracting his hand from your pussy.

The sudden feeling of emptiness made you whine, "That's all?"

"What? Did you want more?"

"I- I thought-" you mumbled, turning around to face him, "I thought you were gonna, I don't know…"

"Do you want me to, doll?"

The way the words almost slipped out of your mouth was pathetic. But you managed to control yourself, and just pushed yourself up and shook your head. "No" you lied. And he could tell.

"You sure, kitten?"

"Yeah, no. Just take the next pic"

"Ok, last one, sweetheart. Can you get on your knees for me?"

Still visibly disappointed with how he left you hanging, you wordlessly kneeled in front of him. Your hands flew up to grip his thighs and your head fell back, your eyes on his. "Like this?"

"Exactly like that, puppy. You're so good, you know that?" Eddie said, nonchalantly licking your juices off his fingers. "And you taste so sweet, baby"

"Thank you" you weakly smiled as he caressed your cheek. "What, um… what do I do now?"

"Open wide for me, just like that. Can you stay like this for a bit?" Eddie commanded.

All you could do was nod and follow him with your stare, your heart nearly beating out of your chest when he lowered himself in front of you and grabbed your chin.

"Do you like this?"

Yes. No. Fuck, you squeezed your eyes shut for a second then then, much to his absolute pleasure, nodded yes.

The sheer embarrassment you felt from not being able to answer him as your mouth hung open made the pressure between your legs grow even more unbearable. You wanted him to do something, anything, touch, or at least talk to you, but he just left you there, hanging pathetically and waiting.

"How about this for the last picture?" Eddie questioned and then shoved his fingers into your mouth. Ring deep and with no warning, he forced your jaw open as he pushed his fingers as far as they could go, making your eyes snap wide open in shock.

"Easy, sweetheart. Stay still for me, ok? Don't fight it"

But it was impossible, with your airway partially blocked and your gag reflex threatening to act up, your hands found his wrist and squeezed as all you could do was look up into his eyes.

"Do you like being like this, angel? All good and dumb for me?"

Your answer came in the form of a blink, your eyebrows also arching upwards, before a cough broke in the back of your throat.

"Easy, doll. Slow down, stop fighting it. Relax, you can do it, you can do it, baby" but he was not helping you, instead pushing down harder onto your tongue, making your eyes water from the lack of oxygen.

But still, you didn't try to fight him, to pry his hand away or to even distance yourself. You just stood there, choking on his fingers, painfully awaiting the moment he'd figure you'd had enough.

While he didn't let you off easily, when your throat constricted around his fingers again, he finally retracted his hand. Drunk on the so dearly needed breath of fresh air that rushed down your throat, you fell forward, your cheek against his thigh as you struggled to regain your composure.

"So good for me, puppy. You listen so well" Eddie cooed, brushing your hair as you refused to pull away from your leg.

"Eddie…" you pouted, "You didn't take the picture"

"That's ok, doll. How are you? Are you good?"

Still unwilling to move, you nodded against his leg. "Yep"

"What do you want to do next, sweetheart? You can choose for the last picture"

"I don't wanna choose" you shook your head, "Just tell me what to do"

"Is there nothing you want, angel? Not even one thing that crossed that pretty, little head of yours?"

"No"

"Then open up for me again, sweetheart"

Lazily, you shuffled to the side and settled back into your position on your knees in front of him. This time, he only pried your mouth open a little bit, much for the aesthetic of it all, his fingers on your tongue and his heavy rings against your bottom lip.

When he brought the camera up, you looked directly into the lens, eyes wide and soft, as you were all but drooling. The way you squirmed once you heard the click of the camera was probably pathetic, but he enjoyed it and you wanted more.

"That's enough" Eddie said, placing the device to the side and squatting down in front of you. "Can you swallow for me?"

You blinked in confusion but burned with enthusiasm, almost moaning out loud when you saw him tower over you and spit down onto your awaiting tongue.

You didn't question it, didn't even flinch, you just closed your mouth and swallowed as he told you.

Once done, Eddie helped you up and waited for you to change. Back out at his little security desk, you waited patiently for him to put the yellow bracelet around your wrist. "Thank you"

"Pleasure doing business with you, doll"

Despite rolling your eyes, you couldn't also hide the way your lips curled at the little pet name, suddenly getting to you in a way half an hour ago you couldn't have even imagined.

"Come with me to the bar, I'll fix you something to drink. On the house"

"Where was this generosity before?" you teased and stepped inside as he held the door open for you.

"Don't push it," he playfully threatened. Once inside, Eddie grabbed your hand and guided you back behind the bar. "What do you want to drink, sweetheart?"

You knew what you wanted, but the annoyed looks of the people impatiently waiting their turn distracted you. Eddie noticed it in a heartbeat, the distress in your eyes saying it all.

"Fuck them" he scoffed, raising his middle finger in their direction as he shielded you with his body. "Just tell me what you feel like drinking"

"Um, a screwdriver, please"

"Coming right up" he said and got to work, only to have you follow him closely like a lost puppy. Too many pairs of judgemental eyes still followed your every move, and without Eddie's attention on you, they felt even more intrusive than before.

"Eddie, I want to pay for it" you said as you opened your purse, "I feel bad"

"I'm not taking your money, Y/n"

"They're looking at me as if I've committed a crime. I'm not going out there with my free drink that I didn't even have to wait for. Just take my money, Eddie, please!"

That sounded like it pissed him off. Not you, though. They did. You sounded genuinely worried, and he didn't like that. After he finished making your drink, Eddie placed it in front of you and then turned to face the customers. "Before you all get your panties in a bunch, she didn't cut to the front, you're waiting to get served by my colleague, I haven't even started my shift. And even if she had cut in front of you, that would've been fine too, because I said so. If any of you even looks at her the wrong way, you're getting kicked out and banned. Thank you!"

Despite his rant having done its job perfectly since no one dared comment or even keep staring, you barely found it in you to look at him. "Eddie… you didn't have to do that"

"If anyone bothers you, come find me" he said, as if he hadn't even heard you. He just grabbed your glass and placed it between your hands, "Go enjoy the concert, sweetheart"

"Thank you" you meekly said.

"No problem, doll" he grinned and slapped your ass as you turned to walk away.

Luckily enough with the soundcheck and stage preparations, you managed to find your friends before the second song even started.

While the music wasn't necessarily your favorite, you still danced your soul out and used the little breaks between songs to listen to your friend vent and fangirl over the vocalist. Tall, long hair and a leather jacket - another thing whose appeal you didn't think you'd see any time soon.

But the whole thing turned out to be a blast, no one interrupting your dancing sessions and by the time the concert was over, you were all spent, barely able to maintain your balance on your aching feet.

After collapsing in the nearest booth you found available, one friend who made the happiest choice of the night regarding the shoes and chose a pair of sneakers, sacrificed herself and made her way to the bar while you all waited for her at the table.

Mostly, the conversation circled around everyone's surprise with how enjoyable the concert actually was. A few other topics had been touched, such as whether they'd party at this bar or not, or if any of the members were single, but when the subject of the price rolled around, you felt personally attacked.

Without explaining, you excused yourself from the table and stomped your way to the bar, walking behind it like the place belonged to you.

"Eddie, I need to talk to you"

"Not now, sweetheart. I'm a bit busy" he hurriedly spoke, unable to even look at you as he balanced 7 shot glasses between his hands.

"Now, Eddie!"

"It's gonna have to wait, have a seat" he huffed and dragged a stool over to his side of the bar. "Wait"

The only thing that kept you from making a scene right then and there was the number of people that were waiting for their drinks. And while you would've very gladly given Eddie a hard time, those people had nothing wrong. So, with a pout and a frown on your face, you sat down and proceeded to wait.

"What's wrong? Can you tell me what happened?" Eddie eventually said in between orders, still visibly busy and not giving you all the attention you required.

"No" you crossed your arms, "Not like this"

"Did something happen?" he questioned, sounding genuinely worried. He threw the towel in his hand over his shoulder and leaned closer, softly touching your thigh as he spoke. "Tell me if-"

"I'll hit you" you snapped and shoved him. "Take a break"

And that was what he did. As soon as he got a little window of time, he asked his colleague to cover for him and then guided you out from behind the bar, and over to a more secluded corner.

"Ok, what happ-"

"Asshole!" you slapped his cheek - as hard as you could but nowhere near hard enough to do any real damage. "Fuck you!"

"Whoa!" Eddie gasped as he recoiled from the blow, instantly grabbing your wrist to stop you from delivering another blow. "What the hell happened?"

"30 dollars!? You lied to me!"

"Oh, that…"

"Yes! That! You're a fucking asshole!"

"Hey, now. Don't go there" Eddie calmly said, arms going up in a defensive position despite still holding onto your hand. "It was just a bit of fun. You had fun too, didn't you?"

"That's not the point"

"You didn't deny it!"

"Asshole!" you snapped again, this time using your free hand to hit his side. But he grabbed onto this wrist too, pulling you closer to him despite your protests. "Eddie, let me go!"

"No, you're gonna hit me again"

"Yes, I am. You lied to me"

"Ok, I lied" he raised his shoulders and rolled his eyes, "So what? We both had some fun, and you got in for free and also got a free drink. I think it's fair"

"No, it's not fair!" you tried to free yourself but his grip was iron strong. "It's not fair because it wasn't 30 dollars, you lied!"

"It was still 10 dollars, which you didn't have to pay, now did you?"

"I would've paid 10 dollars!"

"But you didn't. I saved you some money. I think you should just thank me, doll"

"You're unbelievable" you scoffed, turning your head to the side so that you wouldn't have to look at him.

Eddie however, had a different idea. As he let your wrists go, he cupped your cheeks into his hands so that you'd face him. Despite the annoyed look on your face, your hands traveled up to his sides, grabbing onto his leather jacket as he held you close.

"Come on, you can't really be upset with me right now, sweetheart."

"Well, I am," you frowned.

"I'm sorry, dove. It wasn't my intention. I never meant to upset you"

"You wouldn't have lied if you didn't want to upset me"

"I didn't think you'd find out" he chuckled, which deepened your frown. "Hey, look at me"

"No" you pouted and turned your head to the side, making Eddie have to lean from left to right multiple times in order to meet your eyes.

"Angel, look at me, come on"

"No, Eddie, leave me alone!" you protested, but the smile was audible in your tone. He knew he got to you.

"Hey, come on. Look at you, all smiling"

"I'm not smiling!" you said, trying to sound serious, but eventually giggled when you finally looked at him.

"There you go! That's my girl!" Eddie laughed and brought you closer, "You forgive me, doll, right?" he asked, lightly rubbing your chin with his thumb.

"No"

"You're a bad liar, sweetheart. I think you didn't even mind in the first place, did you?"

"I did!"

"Then why were you so wet for me, huh?" he grinned.

"I'm mad you lied to me" you sighed, not showing any signs of wanting to distance yourself from him anymore. "You didn't have to do that"

"How was I supposed to know you'd say yes?"

"You should've asked!"

"I'm sorry, baby. I really am" he said softly and then nudged your forehead with his. "Kiss me to make it better?"

"I don't want to kiss you, Eddie, I'm still upset"

"No, you're not" he laughed and leaned in, his lips brushing against yours a couple of times until you couldn't help it anymore.

"You're an asshole, you know that?" you shook your head in disbelief, unable to contain your nervous laughter. But despite your words, you were still pressed against him, your hands on his waist and your lips inches away from his.

"I'm fun, sweetheart. Just kiss me"

"Ok, but you're not going to lie to me again!"

"Never!" he swore, all wide eyed and not at all grinning as he did so.

But you didn't pay too much attention. That promise, however empty, was enough for you to feel completely content with going in for a full kiss. He welcomed you fully, one of his hands finding your ass in no time, squeezing hard enough to bruise. But it only riled you up further as you clung onto him, breathing him in with every single brush of your tongue against his.

"Ah! My lipstick!" you whined as you pulled away for air.

"It looks alright, it didn't smudge, don't worry" Eddie smiled, looking at you in awe as you tried to make sure your lipstick didn't get all over your face.

"The girls said it's blowjob proof, I guess they were right" you giggled when you saw no color transferred to Eddie's lips or your fingers. "That's 5 dollars well spent"

"See?" Eddie grabbed your ass as he proudly spoke, "And now, thanks to me, you can get two more. I can even help you try them all out. Multiple times, see if they really are blowjob proof."

"How nice of you" you mocked.

"I know, right?" Eddie chuckled and then kissed your temple. "I have to go back to work now, though. You can hang out with me, if you want"

You were about to follow him, but right before he reached the bar, you tugged his sleeve. "Eddie? Can I ask for a favor?"

He blinked in curiosity. "Sure, sweetheart. What is it?"

"You know I told you I have this friend who likes-"

"Who likes the vocalist, yes, I remember"

"Yeah, well… I was wondering if you could introduce them?"

"Yeah, doll. No problem" Eddie said and looked around, "I think they're still in the back, come with me"

And you did. You followed him wordlessly and reveled in the privilege of walking through the "employees only" door. The dark and sticky corridor Eddie dragged you through had absolutely no reason to make you feel as important as it did, but you loved it. And once outside, in the parking lot you yourself had crossed earlier on your way to the concert, as you and Eddie approached the band's van, you still managed to feel important, as if there was business to attend to.

Even talking to the band you couldn't care less about felt empowering, especially the way each member went to shake your hand as Eddie did the introductions. But despite all of them being nothing but a happy and laid back bunch, you still felt the need to cower behind Eddie as he conversed with the vocalist.

Even though they were all heading inside for some well deserved post concert drinks, Eddie made sure to mention the one fan the man absolutely had to meet.

"This one?" the vocalist, whose name you found out to be Joe, or Joey, asked, pointing at you.

Your eyes went wide, but Eddie only chuckled. "No, she's with me. It's one of her friends, though. She's inside"

While the band still had a few minutes worth of organizing to do, you and Eddie headed back towards the bar.

"I'm with you?" you giggled, almost feeling the need to cover your mouth at how giddy his words made you.

"Aren't you?" Eddie laughed.

"I guess I am" you smiled and resumed your spot on the chair he had brought for you earlier. "Can I help you with stuff? Or is that allowed? I don't know"

"Everything's allowed, sweetheart, but don't worry. Enjoy yourself, I don't need any help. Sit there and be pretty for me"

"I can do that" you wiggled your legs in the air. "And thank you for speaking to Joey. She's gonna be so happy, I'm never going to hear the end of it"

After sending you a knowing smile, Eddie put his arm around your shoulders and kissed your forehead, "Anything for you, sweetheart"

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie x reader #eddie muson fanfic

198 notes · View notes

jinwoosungs · 1 year

Text

{ 89 }

OK overture.

denji x fem.reader

10 stages of love

{ but i'm not dead yet, so i guess i'll be alright. }

1. first sight

you weren't expecting your life as a university student to be so damn difficult or boring. barely twenty years old, you had high hopes of experiencing the exciting kind of life, filled with parties and study dates with friends, maybe even meet a cute guy or two.

yet sadly for you, you experienced none of those things. instead, your university days were filled with stressful deadlines, abhorrent exams, and late nights spent studying while consuming unhealthy amounts of caffeine pills just to get by.

there was an emptiness felt within the depths of your heart, one that you weren't sure what you could even do to fill it. you truly weren't expecting your life to be so bland, and that more than anything else was what put such a damper on your mood.

unable to take the sight of your plain apartment much longer, you dress in your favorite pair of sweatpants and don a hoodie for warmth, deciding that a trip to the café would cheer you up. perhaps you could buy something warm while filling your stomach with all the pastries you can afford?

just thinking about it all was enough to make your stomach begin to growl, prompting you to quicken your pace. however, there was one tiny little detail you forgot, a devastating trait to have while living in a time where cellphones hadn't become quite as advanced as they were today-

you were hopeless when it came to directions, more often than not, you spent your days getting lost in the midst of the city. hell, if it wasn't for the fact that you took the same train every morning to get to your classes, you'd probably never make it to school, either.

when you thought you recalled where the café was located, you ended up being completely wrong. the constant twists and turns you took leads you to so many dead ends. you were now questioning yourself, really wondering if you could find this damn café after all.

as your wandering takes you to yet another dead-end, this time within the depths of a dark alley, fate seemed cruel enough to play a joke on you. before you could leave, there was a strange sound heard coming from behind you. the sound was wet, being reminiscent of a snail or a slug trailing its slime against the wet pavement while in the rain.

but...no snail or slug could be that big, right? the lighting in the alleyway was dim, with the single overhead light constantly blinking on and off. as you strained your eyes to see what that figure was, you tricked your mind into thinking that it was a dripping wet dog, whimpering because it had accidentally fallen into a river or some puddle.

filled with both a curiosity and a desire to help the mutt, you step closer to the hulking figure. "hey buddy, it's going to be okay. are you-"

you trail off, becoming frozen on the spot when the sudden stench hits you, like rotting flesh and decay. instinctively, you cover your mouth with both hands, but the memory of such a powerful stench was enough to make you gag. it was at that exact moment the figure reveals itself, finally coming into the light as you could merely see a blob the color of mud. its eyes and mouth kept sliding off its face, further fueling your anxieties as you were positive witnessing something so horrifying would forever taint your very memories.

you had come into contact with a devil-

and truly, what shitty luck did you have to warrant such a meeting?

completely frozen on the spot, you felt your body take slow steps away from the nightmarish creature. but unfortunately for you, your flight or fight response was delayed. the moment you took back control of your body, ready to run away when the creature reaches out to you, engulfing you within its foul scent as you struggled to breathe.

"devour, need to devour such a sweet morsel." its voice was guttural, sending shivers down your spine as your body slowly sunk inside a beast, like a body sinking in quicksand.

your scream reverberates across the alleyway, with tears dotting your vision as you reached out your hand as far as you could manage, begging for something, anything to come and save you. the thick and toxic mud ends up overtaking your senses, and before you could lose consciousness while ceasing your breaths-

you felt a hand forcefully pull you out from the devil's grip, its disgusting mud staining at your clothes as you felt globs of it sliding down your body. the slick sensation of the disgusting slime surrounding you makes you feel nauseous as you gag almost immediately, unable to get rid of the scent since it had now completely drenched you.

struggling to get to your feet, you pinch your nose shut to see the sight of your savior standing in front of you. immediately, you felt panicked. this guy was just too lanky, and you could only see his bare back as it faced you. unruly strands of blond hair decorate his head, and you were concerned with how his lanky form stood without fear in front of the poisonous devil. despite how the beast roared at him in anger, the strange man retained his almost nonchalant stance-

that is, until he turns back to face you with a wink and a smirk, "wanna watch me do something cool?"

you weren't given the chance to answer him. all you could see was how he pulled at an odd string settled on the middle of his chest before a chainsaw rips his head in half. letting out a blood curdling scream, you swore you felt as though you were going to faint, your heart caught within the confines of your throat when the man finally reveals himself.

gone were his messy blond locks. all that covered his face was a metal mask with a deadly chainsaw sticking out of it. not only had his head turned into a chainsaw, but the entirety of his arms as well, the deadly blades acting as a shield as he shredded the devil into tiny bits and pieces.

you weren't sure how you were supposed to feel. the more rational part of you knew that you had to feel afraid of this man who clearly had a devil half-

but the stronger part felt more intrigue for him than anything else.

in just mere seconds, the chainsaw man comes out victorious, with his dirty converses standing in the puddle left over from the devil's destruction. once he was sure it was over, the chainsaw man steps closer to you. unsure of why you didn't want to move or run away, you end up standing completely still, allowing him to reach out and touch at your cheek gently with the tip of his chainsaw.

"you're lucky you're so damn cute."

that was all he said in that strange voice of his before jumping away from you, disappearing against one of the rooftops as you felt your legs give away, unable to hold your weight any longer.

with your heart pounding within your chest, not with fear but with excitement, you knew that your first meeting ever with the chainsaw man would forever be imprinted within your memories.

2. introduction

ever since that fateful night when you were saved by chainsaw man himself, you became a tad bit obsessed with him. he was just so cool, so powerful and fearless when he had saved your life. that strange half devil hybrid was the spark you needed in your life, and it was thanks to him that you finally felt so alive- hell, it was because of him that you were still alive.

unfortunately, such a cool meeting came with a heavy price, mainly in the form of how the stench of the toxic devil still remained attached to your body regardless of the sheer number of showers you took whilst lathering copious amounts of body wash on your form. during those first few weeks, you had to cover your scent with a variety of perfumes in hopes of masking the stench of decay left over from that night.

despite the number of complaints your peers told you, telling you that your perfume was overwhelming and headache inducing, you knew that it was better to give them a migraine than make them feel nauseous whenever you were around.

but you digress-

roughly two months had passed, and you were still searching for any signs of the chainsaw man. when you asked around your university questions pertaining to who it might be, no one had a clue what you were talking about. and all the books you read within your university's library spoke little of a human/devil hybrid.

with a sigh, you figured that it was completely hopeless to try and find out anything about your savior. you were quickly becoming dejected now, with no signs of the man with the dirty blond hair anywhere in sight.

not wanting to wallow in your despair for too long, you decide to visit the udon stand settled within close proximity of your university. the owner and cook, recognizing you almost immediately, welcomes you with open arms as he let out a hearty laugh whilst saying your name. "the usual for you?"

"absolutely." taking your spot on the stand, you wait eagerly for your favorite bowl of udon. you kick your legs back and forth with your hands clasped against the table.

you paid no attention to the person that suddenly sat next to you, their proximity completely noticeable when you could feel the right side of your arm touching them. with your faced scrunched up in dismay, you were about to move seats had it not been for the fact that your beef udon had already arrived.

"here ya go, miss! and as always, enjoy!"

"wah! that looks amazing! 'scuse me, sir, but i will definitely have what she's having!"

cue a rich chuckle coming from the owner himself. "absolutely, young man. one beef udon comin' right up!"

you couldn't help but feel slighly annoyed at this man's childish behavior, ready to scold him as the words hung heavy against the tip of your tongue-

but upon seeing him for the first time, you felt them die against your throat. with messy locks of blond hair and eyes the color of smooth, hot chocolate. he was dressed in a jacket and a pair of jeans, but those worn converses were undeniable.

he was the chainsaw man; the same man you had dedicated your time trying to find.

the young man appears nervous from being scrutinized with your wide-eyed gaze, letting out a cough before saying, "uhm, long time no see?"

yet all you could manage was a shaky whisper of this single phrase: "chainsaw-"

but that was all you could say when he immediately places a hand over your mouth, looking panicked while darting his eyes around the area, "please, just call me denji."

3. interaction

"denji?" you test the sound of his name against your lips, repeating it a few times as the boy settled next to you slowly begins to turn pink in response.

"i like it." returning your attention back to the steaming bowl of udon, you grab your chopsticks and clasp your hands together, "thank you for this meal!"

you dig into your bowl of noodles, suddenly not minding denji's close proximity when he receives his own bowl of noodles just minutes later. he repeats your actions before slurping up his own noodles.

you ate in a comfortable silence, neither one of you speaking as you each simply enjoyed the bowl of udon. "you know, you're being kind of rude." denji wasn't facing you when he said that strange phrase.

"oh? and what makes me so rude?" you take casual sips of the broth, looking at the blond expectantly as a sheepish expression paints his features.

"well, you didn't tell me your name yet, and that's kinda what i wanted to know."

"hmm." you lick your lips, the sight of your actions not going unnoticed by denji as his eyes suddenly hones in on your lips. thinking that it was only fair that he know your name as well, you tell it to him and listen when he does the same thing you did with his name.

he repeats the syllables that make up your name a few times before grinning widely at you, "i think i like the sound of it."

you cheeks felt heated, and you continue to eat your bowl of udon, but this time, you could barely taste the deliciousness of the broth and how well it tied the noodles and the beef together. instead, your stomach kept twisting each time you felt denji purposely lean into you whilst enjoying his bowl.

within seconds, he finishes his meal entirely, leaving behind an empty bowl. digging into the pocket of his jeans, he places a few bills against the table, paying for your portion of the meal as well before beckoning you to follow him.

"come on, let's take a walk."

it was as though he put a spell on you, for that was all the urging from denji you needed to follow him wherever he went.

4. attraction

denji was by no means the cute and handsome boy of your dreams. he appeared disheveled, as if that were his fashion statement as he walked with a natural slumped posture. he keeps his hands hidden, buried deep within the confines of his jeans while keeping his gaze focused on the pavement in front of him.

"so you gonna ask me 'bout that night or what?"

his blunt words make you wince in response. "do you actually remember me?"

denji takes a look at you from the corner of his eyes. "hell yeah i do. can't ever forget a cute face like yours." he seems smug then, rubbing at the tip of his nose with the back of his hand all while smirking.

"heh, okay smartass." you purposely run your hip against his, making the smug expression falter as you continued to walk closely beside him.

"how long have you had such powers?"

"uh, since i was seventeen?"

"and how old are you now?"

"twenty."

you giggle, facing him with a smile on your face. "cool, so the chainsaw man is my age."

you continue to walk in silence, and from your periphery, you could see the way denji was turning red with a blush. even the tip of his ears was pink now, and it was truly such an adorable sight.

"so do you go around saving people from devils like a vigilante or something?"

"heh, nope! i only go around saving cute girls like yourself." he gives you another toothy grin, showing you its sharpness while running a hand through his unruly locks of hair. "the goal of it is to have the girl become so in love with me that she takes me back to her place, where she can show her thanks for me by spreading her legs as i lose myself in her."

you could feel your cheeks burn with the audacity of his wishes, trying to hold back your laughter as a snort ends up escaping from your lips. "and how's that working out for you?"

"ugh, terribly. here i am, in my twenties, and i'm still not getting any."

now, you couldn't hold back your laughter any longer as ugly snorts and giggles came out of you. denji was so refreshing to you, with his honesty and bluntness that delighted you in so many ways. you kept on laughing, with your stomach twisting in pain as denji simply stood there, watching you with an unreadable expression on his face.

you didn't know how long you just stood there, laughing like an idiot while in front of denji. finally calming down, you wipe the stray tears from your eyes and give him an apologetic smile. "sorry about that, denji. you're just so funny, so honest with your desires that i couldn't help but laugh at what a total guy you are."

but instead of joining you in your laughter, denji gently reaches out to you, allowing the back of his hand to brush against your cheek when he tells you in a breathless whisper,

"you're so fucking adorable. please, go on a date with me."

5. date

denji is so not your type.

he's definitely not your dream come true.

and to top it all off, he seems so shameless-

so what the hell prompted you to accept his invitation to a date saturday night?

was it due to the fact that he was the chainsaw man you had been searching for? was your intrigue with him due to the fact that he had literally saved your life?

you couldn't say for sure why denji fascinated you, but all you knew was that you were eager to get to know him better. something about him just drew you into him, and more than anything else, denji seemed to be drowning in his own loneliness.

something must have happened in his past, but you didn't dare bring up anything so personal when you've only met him a handful of times.

but you were willing to stick around and try.

with you dressed comfortably for your date with denji, you stand outside of your train station, waiting for him to appear. your eyes kept looking around for any signs of him, and the moment you had your gaze off of the streets was when you felt someone press themselves against your back.

you stiffen, about to scream had it not been for the teasing whisper of your name against your ear, "hey cutie, were you waiting for me?"

"d-denji!" he lets go of you then with a teasing smile on his face. dressed in a shirt and another pair of jeans along with his converses (his signature style, you suppose), he holds up his hands in mock surrender. "my bad my bad, didn't mean to scare ya. let's just get going, okay?"

placing a hand behind your back, he leads you inside the station, finally starting your date you had been anticipating.

6. holding hands

your date with denji ends up being the most fun you've had. he takes you to one of his favorite arcades located in the city, where you spent hours beating each other with the various games. whilst in the arcade, you shared an extra-large pepperoni pizza, laughing at all the funny faces he made and terrible jokes he tells you.

when you had your fill of the arcade, denji takes a hold of all the tickets you had won in combination with his, going up to the gift counter to exchange the tickets for a cute little teddy bear. he shows you the adorable plush, holding on to what looked like a sunflower within its brown paws. your smile couldn't be any wider, accepting the cute plush while giving it several kisses.

meanwhile, denji kept looking at you embracing the teddy bear tightly against your chest. he tries to convince himself that no, he was not getting jealous of some stupid teddy bear-

but ends up failing miserably.

"come on, it looks really nice out tonight. let's go out and admire the stars or something."

taking a hold of one of your hands, he interlocks them together with his fingertips. unconsciously, denji ends up shivering at the contact, swearing that he's never felt a hand so soft before while taking you away from the arcade.

7. first kiss

the teddy bear that denji had gotten for you was still settled safely on your lap as you sat with denji on the water fountain. the gentle gurgle of water was all that was heard as denji kept his gaze at the stars scattered above him.

you were feeling awkward now, pulling at your teddy bear's ears as you tried to find the right words to say to him. with your legs drawn up close to your chest, you sigh and decided that it was best to be honest with him.

"denji?"

"yeah?"

"i ah...i really had a great time with our date. it's been so long since i've been to an arcade, and i loved it."

"hm, that's good."

you shift uncomfortably beside him. "why are you acting like i'm such a nuisance now? didn't you have a good time as well?"

"you bet your cute ass i did."

you ignore his use of profanity at that moment, feeling your frustrations about to reach a boiling point. "then why aren't you acting like you're having a good time?!"

"because i'm consumed with thoughts of wanting to kiss you. but i don't wanna scare you off on our first date."

finally hearing his confession, you look at him to see him glaring at the sky, refusing to meet your gaze. his rough admission causes a surge of warmth to course through your veins, and you could feel yourself swallowing thickly as you tried to find the right words to say.

should i...? or should i not...?

with a sigh, you purposely slide closer to him, allowing your shoulders to meet with his as you rest your head against him. "then why don't you?"

your words causes denji to do a double take, whipping his head around so quickly that you were afraid he was going to break his neck. "w-what?"

"you heard me. i said why don't you kiss me already."

you figured denji would be filled with hot air now, puffing up his chest as he kissed you with confidence-

yet instead, you watch as denji becomes even redder in response. he hides his mouth from your curious gaze with his hand, eyes looking at anything but you.

"denji...?"

"j-just give me a damn minute, okay?! i-i never had a girl i wanted to kiss so badly actually let me kiss her before...!"

ah, so this boy was all bark and no bite after all.

with a smile on your face, you gently place a hand on his chin, forcing him to face you. his eyes appeared so hopeful, so needy for even an ounce of your affections. letting out a sigh of his name, you allow your lips to perfectly slant against his, giving him a kiss denji was sure to cherish for the rest of his life.

8. relationship

you couldn't quite put a label on whatever was going on between you and denji.

all you knew was that he made you happy. his presence measured up to that of the sun itself. despite his gruff language and perverted nature he tries to display, you found that he was so warm and kind. there were different aspects to denji's personality, and little by little, you were certain that you were slowly breaking down his walls.

tonight, denji had suddenly appeared at your apartment during the middle of the night. he looked half-asleep, with the way the dark circles seemed to darken beneath his eyes as his arms hung limply by his sides.

yet the moment he sees you, denji perks up immediately, taking you in his arms as he makes his way to your bedroom. when he lays down, settling you on top of him with your cheek pressed against his chest, you could feel the gentle beatings of his heart.

you felt so soft then, your affections for the man you had quickly grown so attached to-

but did he feel the same way?

you sigh, burying your face within his chest, tracing at the chainsaw cord that served as his means of turning into chainsaw man. denji immediately stops your hands from exploring any further, "no, don't. i don't want you to get hurt."

"what am i to you?" you whisper to him, feeling your insecurities take over as you played with the front of his shirt.

"hah?"

"have you been saving any other cute girls lately?" was the question you end up asking, refusing to meet his confused gaze as you kept the fabric of his shirt clutched tightly in your hand.

denji then takes a hold of your hands, freeing his shirt from their tight grip. you half expected him to leave you right then and there, feeling the tears begin to dot your vision as you fought to keep your breathing even.

you refused to cry, even when denji decides to leave you.

yet he blows all of your expectations out of the water when he clasps your hands together to press a kiss against the back of them. "nah, you're the only cute girl i wanna save."

taking your silence as proof that you had finally calmed down, he adjusts his hold on you so that you now lay within his arms, with his chest pressed against your back. you felt the way his body heat seemed to engulf you, trapping you in a safe cocoon as you smile in response.

"what am i to you?" you ask once more, this time with your voice ringing loud and clear from the confines of your room.

"isn't it obvious?" you feel the way denji lets out an exasperated breath against your hair. "you're my girlfriend, and i couldn't ask for anyone better than you."

9. love

life truly had a sense of humor.

never would you have ever expected to fall in love with someone like denji. when you first met him, he seemed so far away from what you considered your ideal type-

the one that was prim and proper, with an education that matches yours plus having great ambitions.

well, you suppose you could take back that last bit, since denji has shown you that he has plenty of ambition, even if they were a bit misplaced before he met you.

"i used to want to take over the world with my powers, you know? make all of japan bend to my will and get all the women and riches i desired."

he tells you of his dreams one night when you were both cuddling on the couch, watching some boring sitcom that you didn't bother to try and recall the title of. all of your focus was on denji and the way he softly smiled down at you.

"but now, that shit doesn't matter anymore. now that i got you in my arms, i feel as though every single one of my dreams have come true."

with a kiss filled with passion that you didn't even think denji was capable of, he holds you tightly within his arms while conveying all the emotions he held for you. the kiss was successful in taking your very breath away, eyes turning almost hazy with the sheer amount of love you had for the man that held you.

letting out a hoarse whisper of your name, denji rests his forehead against yours before confessing, "i fucking love you. you're everything a sad and pathetic man like me could ever ask for.

that's why, i'm gonna spend the rest of my fucking life protecting you and makin' you happy."

10. commitment

there was no way denji could sleep peacefully, not when he could spend the next hours watching you rest instead.

with a yawn, he carefully sits up from bed, allowing the blankets to slide off his body as he takes this chance to truly admire you. was his behavior a little strange? maybe, but truly, he didn't give a damn.

he finally found what he has always desired; the one thing he has craved for his entire life:

an unconditional love that he knew he would fight and die for. what started as him wanting to save a total babe from distress ends up leading him down the path he has always wanted- a dream come true.

with his right hand, he presses down against his chest where his heart still beat. he was comforted by the fact pochita would always be a part of him, protecting his heart while feeling each ounce of happiness whenever he was by your side.

"we finally did it, pochita. i finally reached my dreams."

when he finally decides to fall back asleep, he ends up bringing your body closer to him. with you now pressed against his bare chest, he could feel you smile in your sleep as you curled yourself even closer to him.

perhaps he should surprise you with that little, black velvet box currently hiding within his drawer in the morning after all.

a.n. - i have been listening to ajr's -ok overture- on repeat for days now, and the entirety of the song fits denji so well that i had to make this story for him 🥹 this is unedited, but i had such a blast writing it, and i hope you readers enjoyed it, too ♡

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#denji fluff #denji x reader #denji headcanons #csm x reader #csm x you #denji x you #chainsaw man x reader #.stories

795 notes · View notes

drconstellation · 8 months

Text

Once and Future Royalty

Just, stay with me on this one. I know its going to look crazy at the start, but trust me, I know where I'm going.

It all started with the 537AD scene in Wessex in the opening montage of "Hard Times," S1E3. Yeah, the one where Aziraphale is supposed to be a knight of the Round Table and Crowley is role-playing the Black Knight, and they are both so super-squeaky shiny clean - not a speck of dirt or mud on them. wtf! It looks out of place, unrealistic, and was bugging the crap out of me, like a stone in your shoe. It just didn't fit. I mean, why put a myth, a legend, into that sequence? Oh, OK, yeah, the preceding stories from the Bible, like the Garden of Eden and the Flood, aren't "myths" as well, you say? Hmm. In the context of the Good Omens AU, being a biblical based story, they belong there far more than the legend of King Arthur.

King Arthur, who supposedly united Britain under his rule during the late 5th century and early 6th century, was shown to have the divine right to rule by wielding the mighty sword Excalibur. Some stories tell of Arthur pulling Excalibur from a stone. Some tell of him receiving Excalibur from the Lady of the Lake. Either way, it was bestowed upon him by divine grace. Despite his triumph in battle, he left no heirs, as his queen, the fair Guinevere, was barren. She had a long-running love affair with the greatest knight of the court, Sir Lancelot, but despite this being an open secret in court Arthur would not put her aside. The knights of the Round Table in the court of Camelot were near-paragons of Christian virtue, and there are many tales of their search for the Holy Grail, the cup from the Last Supper of Jesus Christ.

In the end, mortally wounded in battle, Arthur was taken away for healing, and never seen again. It was said he would return when Britain was at it most direst hour to save the day once more. A "messianic" return.

The Once and Future King.

Now, I'm no Arthurian novice; I drank up all of T. H. White as a teenager, read the Dark is Rising multiple times, Marion Zimmer Bradley's interpretation and what ever else I could lay my hands on for a good couple of decades. And there is LOTS of King Arthur stuff around. You are not left wanting for anything new to read or consume. And I'll bet there are a fair few of you also out there who know a quite bit about the legend as well. Oh, and I can't tell you how many times I have watched Monty Python and the Holy Grail. I still walk around quoting it day-to-day, like the good little Gen-Xer I am, having grown up on that stuff. So I really should have listened to my intuition when bits of Monty Python kept popping up in my brain in response to other parts of GO I was thinking about. (Staaay, I said, stay with me here....)

I kept chewing away furiously on the Wessex problem, growling in feral frustration at it, but also kept reading and sorting out some other ideas and metas at the same time. Eventually I found the key in a tiny little post, about a small detail in the 1941 Blitz episode S2E4, of all places. I wanted to slap myself with how much was staring me in the face so obviously once the door opened. And the damn beauty of it is, that I already written about some it, out of context, without knowing the why.

OK. Where to start this journey...hmmm, back to Monty Python, because, guess what - the Wessex scene is actually riffing off one the more famous skits out the the Holy Grail. The scene is a masterpiece of political satire, from start to finish, but the relevant part here is this sequence:

In case you missed the salient points: Arthur claims he is king by divine providence, because he was given Excalibur by the Lady of the Lake. Dennis the peasant protests this waterlogged method of determination, mentioning ponds, watery tarts and a moistened... well, I hope you get the idea about where this is going.

Meanwhile, in 537AD, Wessex, as the mist swirls around them:

"It is a bit damp," complains a shiny silver Aziraphale.

Yes, Excalibur would be a bit damp after it emerged from the Lake. (vidavalor! Get your mind out of the gutter! I'm trying to have a serious discussion here! Please! And I wasn't even going to go anywhere near what the sword in the stone is really meant to be referring to...it's not even relevant to the discussion at hand, I swear! Well, there is going to be sexual relations mentioned but - oh, never mind...)

Right. Where were we. Lets leave those super-clean elite pretendy knights to swim off through the swirling mist back to their dry homes to write and file reports to head office, along with Patsy and the hired Igors, and Dennis can keep playing in his lovely muddy filth after he finishes protesting being repressed by the divinely-deluded Arthur. I've got a bit more to say about what Aziraphale and Crowley might represent here later but you need some more context first, so lets move on. I just needed to show you the first bit so you can see the Arthurian theme stretches across both S1 and S2, and will likely appear in S3 as well. More about that towards the end.

Ah, before I forget...another ref from the Holy Grail we need to cover:

This GIF, unfortunately, doesn't have the full exchange between the peasants, which is this:

P1: "Who's that then?" P2: "I don't know. Must be a king." P1: "How can you tell?" P2: "Because he doesn't have any shit on him."

Ah. Er. OH!

Have you made the connection?

Who have I been emphasizing as being unusually clean in their Arthurian setting? That's right, Aziraphale and Crowley.

What's this implying? That they are royalty. Celestial royalty. Maybe not kings, but how about princes? You know how we've been discussing whether Crowley was a once at least an Archangel, and there is even a hint that he was a fallen prince of Heaven given during the replay of Gabriel's trial? (Not the prince, but a prince - a seraphim) And that Aziraphale may have once been Raphael, and may be again in the future? Once and future royalty. To me it adds weight to the past discussion, and helps to explain the assumed authority expressed in these two scenes here: On the left, Aziraphale takes control inside the book shop as the angels and demons argue who is going to punish Gabriel and Beelzebub (finally found it after several months!) and on the right, Crowley is shouting at the assembling demons in the street that they are "out of order."

Onward, Patsy. (I hope you're still with me.)

1941, the Blitz part 2, minisode.

We've found Excalibur! On to Camelot!

[Edit note: I've added a few GIFs and screen shots into the sequence of parallels above because I was thinking over a few things since I posted and felt this actually sat better. To try and explain, as they don't exactly match as I would like, in the Holy Grail movie, King Arthur and the knights he has gathered rock up at the foot of Camelot and gaze up in awe at it. "Camelot!" Arthur declares to the party. "Camelot!" Galahad echoes in excitement. And a third "Camelot!" comes from Lancelot. What do we get in GO? Aziraphale leaps out of the Bentley (Crowley's black horse) and declares "The theater! Sophocles! Shakespeare!" I swear, if you put the two side by side, they would match. It's not just a reminder of how much time Aziraphale has seen pass by, or that we are seeing a tragedy play out. But damn it, I could so just see Aziraphale attending a Sophocles performance in Athens back in the day...]

Camelot was King Arthur's castle and home of his court. In S2 of GO the Windmill Theater is established as our court of Camelot where our 1941 Blitz-era Arthurian drama is to play out, involving Furfur and the zombies.

Yes, poor old Furfur. Two's company, three's a crowd, as they say. Now we know we're in Camelot, we need to be reminded of the central tragedy of the Arthurian story, that ultimately led to the golden kingdom's fall. Lady Guinevere, Arthur's queen, famously loved Sir Lancelot, and the two were passionate lovers. It was essentially a love-triangle at the top, with Arthur being jilted, but he wouldn't/couldn't discard his queen. Where do we see this playing out in 1941?

Furfur, pleased with himself for catching an angel and a demon in the act of consorting together (with the help of the zombies,) barges into the backstage dressing room, and confronts the lovers with their crime. But who is playing who in the Arthurian love triangle? I would say Furfur is clearly caught in the role of Arthur here. Consider the following exchange:

FURFUR: Hmm, well, well, well… What have we here? AZIRAPHALE: Sorry, have we met? FURFUR: Oh, no, you never had the pleasure, but… we have, haven't we? CROWLEY: Have we? FURFUR: What do you mean "have we?" You know we have. We were in the same legion. Just before the Fall. Doing dubious battle on the plains of Heaven. Remember? CROWLEY: I remember going into battle, I don't remember being there with you. Sorry. FURFUR: I was right next to you. We did loads together. You use to jump on me back, little monkey in the waistcoat. Anyway, whether you do or whether you don't, it doesn't matter. I'm here to inform you, as a representative of the Higher Powers of Hell, that you, Crowley, are in breach of the Infernal Code. Consulting and collaborating with an angel, Fell the Marvelous, aka… [opens book] Azirapalala. Azirapapap. Aziphapalala. AZIRAPHALE: [annoyed] Aziraphale

Furfur claims a past intimate relationship with Crowley, which Crowley spurns offhandedly. Crowley is playing Guinevere here, jilting Furfur/Arthur, which leaves the demon-smiting Aziraphale standing in for the handsome hero Lancelot (with his French connections, no less), and doesn't he make us weak at the knees when he drops his voice an octave in dominating disgust. (Is it suddenly getting hot in here...? Phew!)

Interestingly, looking back in S1 at 537AD Wessex, though, I would say that Crowley was Lancelot as the Black Knight, a role that Lancelot sometimes played in the legends, and Aziraphale would then be the fair maiden Guinevere. It certainly plays into Crowley's long term role of playing the knight who comes to the rescue of Aziraphale's princess in distress. Excalibur was no where in sight, perhaps still beneath the waters of the lake. Nor Arthur. Perhaps it was still too early in the story then...

I had originally suggested in my very first post that Furfur was given a stag as his demon avatar because he was wearing horns for being cuckolded by Crowley. But I wasn't quite thinking about it in context with the Arthurian legend! The stag is also often associated with royalty, plus while wandering around the medieval bestiary website that someone linked to, it interestingly notes that the enemy of the snake is the stag and the stork (Shax's avatar.) Ah ha!

So how can we extrapolate this knowledge into a possible appearance of the Arthurian theme in S3?

Will we see the love triangle of Arthur/Guinevere/Lancelot come back into play and cause more chaos? I'm wondering if it might have something to do with the Fall.

Or will our lovers bring down a divinely-appointed ruler via their committed behind-the-back defiance of expected propriety?

Will Excalibur appear from beneath the waters, perhaps in another form, to declare a new king?

Could it even be a combination Jesus/Arthur, King of the World, returned? And they turn out to be a very naughty boy, disappearing into the night clubs of Times Square, New York, and that's how they lose him? (Social media viral sensation, anyone?)

I wouldn't be half-surprised if Greasy Johnson's name turns out to be Arthur, actually.

And no, I haven't forgotten that Adam's dad was named Arthur as well.

Bring on S3!

**Bonus**

If you've made it this far and you're thinking:

Let me leave you with this last connection.

In the back stage change room, remember Furfur delivers these lines:

FURFUR: What do you mean "have we?" You know we have. We were in the same legion. Just before the Fall. Doing dubious battle on the plains of Heaven. Remember?

On the first level, he is referring the Great War in the Good Omens AU.

On the second level, Furfur is paraphrasing Milton's Paradise Lost.

On a third level, I can (and will in a future meta) connect this back to the training initiative paintball fight at Tadfield Manor in S1.

And even deeper on a fourth level, if you do know the Holy Grail movie well, you'll remember there is an odd little subplot in it, that infers that the whole King Arthur and his knights thing is merely a full-on violent cosplay that is murderously rampaging across the countryside in the present day with the police in hot pursuit. It's a strange juxtaposition between reality and dream, and you aren't quite sure what it is real or not. The ending is bizarrely and abruptly surreal as the two story lines collide in the heat of battle, as the police turn up and arrest the combatants. A bit like this:

173 notes · View notes

bruisedboys · 1 year

Note

hi love can i plz have little women-“ i just realized i don’t care if they’re the most perfect person in the world. they’re not you.” w james ??

congrats on 3k!!!!!!!!

idk if I did this ask justice but I tried!!! hope it’s ok lovely

summary: james comes to your house with a confession

fem!reader 0.7k words

James is soaking wet at your front door. You blink at him and think maybe you’re dreaming.

“James,” you say. You can barely hear yourself. It’s pouring rain and your heartbeat is twice as loud as it usually is. “What are you doing here?”

James doesn’t seem to notice the rain where it’s starting to drip into his eyes. His lovely dress shirt is soaked through. He stares right back at you like it’s his first time seeing you.

“Can I come in?” He asks.

“I— yeah, of course.” You grab his arm and pull him in, hardly caring about the rain and flecks of mud he tracks in on his shoes. “Get inside, Jamie, you’re soaked.”

James steps inside and you close the door behind him. The rain becomes muffled, a lovely, calming drumming sound. You turn on James. Somehow, soaked through and shivering, he looks pretty as ever.

“James,” you say again, because you don’t know what else to say. “What—?”

“Listen.” James cuts you off and grabs you by the elbows. It’s alarming how quickly he gets you in his hands. Even more so how willing you are to be manhandled by him. “I need to tell you something.”

You blink. You can’t quite clock the look on his face. Something akin to desperation. You wonder if there’s been a horrible emergency with one of his friends.

“I thought you had a date,” you say blankly. Its a stupidly obvious thing to say, but you’re feeling very dazed.

James nods. “Right, I did. She wasn’t— it didn’t really work out.”

Your heart does this horrible thing where it jumps to your throat with hopefulness. You swallow harshly in a poor attempt push it back down.

“But,” you flounder. James had showed you a picture of her earlier in the week. Prettiest girl you’d ever seen. “She— well, she seemed pretty perfect.”

James grabs you tighter. Pulls you closer. His eyelashes cling together in sparkling triangles.

“That’s the thing, Y/N,” he says, looking at you with a sort of desperation that makes your legs a bit wobbly. “I’m— well, I guess I just realised. I don’t care if she’s the most perfect girl in the world. She’s not you.”

You blink. You think maybe your heart’s stopped. You don’t hear yourself when you say, “What?”

“I think I love you,” he keeps going, and somehow it just keeps getting worse. Or better, you can’t decide. “And— and I don’t mind if you don’t feel the same way, I just had to tell you as soon as possible because— well, because I’ve been going on all these dates, when all this time it’s been you.”

James takes a takes a deep breath, looking like he has a lot more to say. You don’t think your heart could take it. You stop him before he can.

“James.” You steal your arms from his grip and slide your hands up his arms until you reach his biceps. His shirt is drenched and the silk is iridescent and his lovely brown skin peeks through at you. “What are you saying?”

James laughs, and it’s ditzy and awkward and it sounds like nothing like you’ve ever heard James do before. Then again, this is all new. This touching. His confession.

“I’m saying,” he starts. “I’m saying that I think I’m like, the dumbest person in the world. To not have noticed this sooner.”

You think you know what he’s saying. But you’re also horrified by the hope that’s burning like fire in your chest.

“Noticed what?” You ask, hushed and hopeful.

“Noticed you,” James says, with a look so earnest and fond you think you might pass out.

This is all you’ve ever dreamed of. But somehow, not a single word comes to mind. You stand there, James’s hair and clothes dripping all over you and your carpet, his confession hanging in the gap between you like a burning star, and try not to start crying.

“James,” you finally get out. He’s got a curl hanging over his eye. You reach up and push it out of his face. Your fingers linger in his inky curls. They’re darker than usual, all wet like this. Almost pitch black. You fall in love with him all over again. “I think I might love you, too.”

James’s eyebrows shoot up. It’s almost comical. And also very adorable.

“You might?” He asks, definitely teasing. You get the feeling he’s maybe known you’ve loved him for a while, now. You’re pretty sure you’ve never been too subtle about it.

You huff. Even now, he’s James Potter to the bone. “Careful. I might change my mind.”

When he kisses you, it’s messy and it’s awkward and he’s still soaking wet, but it’s nothing short of perfect.

fixing readmore glitch

675 notes · View notes

acourtofmenandthirst · 1 year

Text

Show Them

Tamlin x Reader. If you don’t like it, don’t read it :) I feel like after all of the events of books 2-5, he’s learned how and why he was wrong, and he’s been kicked a lot while he was down. It’s about time for him to redeem himself and find love too ok?? So here is my rendition of the start of his redemption arc.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death, trauma

Word Count: 8.7K

You huffed a sigh, wiping your hands at the hem of your thin dress, ridding yourself of the flecks of mud and dry blood. With a squint, you picked at your palm, trying to pull the thick wooden splinter from your skin. Fourth one in an hour, you rolled your eyes to yourself, glaring at the pile of wood and debris - what previously held the roof over your head.

You eyed the deep scratches embossed in the wood, the ones that no doubt belonged to the Naga that roamed the nearby forest. They’d looted and torn your house to the ground, much like your neighbor’s home and the shops in the town. After the High Lord had disappeared years ago, the hierarchy had fallen - there were no more sentries to guard the village, to threaten the Bogge and keep the wraiths at bay.

Not that you had many belongings, but you needed to find as much food as you could. You dug around for scraps of food, money, jewelry - anything of value that you could trade for shelter. But fuck, you came up with nothing. Your house was nothing but a pile of dust, all your belongings gone with it. And it was getting dark, the sun almost completely disappearing behind mountains in the distance.

You’d have to beg your neighbors for sanctuary, even if just for the evening. They were no doubt already locking up their homes and arming themselves with all the blades and spears they could find. Deciding you would return in the morning to continue, you turned away from the pile of remains - only for your eye to catch on a glimmer in the woods.

The shadows had already long fallen over the forest, the black of night seeping in from the treeline before you. You were met with a pair of eyes, glowing and bright green, the golden sunset mirrored in the glossy shine.

Your breath hitched in your throat, your heart stilling in your veins. There were many creatures that roamed the Spring woodlands, many more creeping in on the territory now that it lacked a High Lord. The water wraiths from the Summer Court encroached in the waters; after hearing that their neighboring sisters no longer paid the Tithe, they swam over in droves. Some were shifters, moving onto the unprotected lands to mark for themselves, others were sirens, with shimmering eyes that promised the brightest future, so beautiful that they lured the young Spring males to the coast, robbing and drowning them for pleasure.

But these eyes were different, a deep emerald, slanted inwards and narrowed - canine, feral. Studying its prey, waiting for attack. You’d heard rumors of the Autumn Court hounds, the ones Beron and his sons roamed around with. How they could track Fae down between courts, tear their throats out without even revealing themselves - some were rumored to have two heads. But you watched those shining green eyes until the beast turned away, tucking itself back between the trees and disappearing into the darkness.

___________________________

You were back on the street at the break of dawn, graciously thanking the family that housed you for the night, offering to bring them anything valuable you could find from home’s wreckage. You kicked at the dry sticks and stones on the dirt road leading to your little plot of land, cursing at the fallen trees and dying brush.

It seemed the Spring Court curse wouldn’t be lifted any time soon. You’d worn a godsdamned mask for years - a doe: the most innocent animal of Spring, silent and small in a court full of sly foxes and brash wolves. The supposed cursebreaker returned to your court only to tear it apart from the inside out, playing spy for the Night Court the whole time. The Autumn Court emissary had left and your High Lord had disappeared - no heir or kin left behind. He abandoned you all and took his power with him.

Some said he left and sought refuge in the Summer Court - that only Tarquin would be kind enough - naive enough - to offer him solace. Others thought he died, that Feyre killed him and there was nobody else to take the powers of the High Lord. You weren’t sure you believed either of those rumors. Nobody was brave enough to tread to Tamlin’s manor and find out for themselves; only the Mother knew what creatures resided there, Fae or otherwise.

The pile of wood and stone remained untouched overnight, you had to drag yourself over to your old land. It wasn’t worth anything, nothing was anymore. It felt barbaric, almost: digging through the mud and destroyed earth for something to barter with. It seemed that your court had been through nothing but devastation since you’d been alive. You were only just a hundred years old when the land was cursed by Amarantha - spent years in a mask followed by a stint under the mountain. When the curse was lifted, the Spring Court lasted about as long as the celebrations. As soon as life turned back to normal - whatever that truly was - the Night Court infiltration was exposed, Pyrthian was brought to war, and your home was destroyed.

You groaned, both of your hands wrapped around a heavy log of wood, surely it was the heaviest in the pile. You groaned, gritting your teeth as you tried (and failed) to move it. Your hands slipped, dry bark breaking off the wood beam, causing you to slip and fall backwards right on your ass. You cursed, denouncing the Mother. Perfect start to the fucking day, you’d thought. A whole day of failure awaits.

“Do you need a hand?”

Your head snapped up, nearly giving you whiplash as you turned to the side. You narrowed your eyes, the tall male standing just in front of where the sun was rising, shadow cast over his front. But you made out his light hair, glowing in the bright light, a halo cast around his head. His shoulders were so broad, his white shirt tight around his arms but loose around his waist, the fabric shifting as the wind blew past. He held a hand out to you, palm raised.

Your gaze dropped to his waiting hand, which you gladly took. His skin was rough, calluses around his palms and over his fingers. He pulled you to your feet, almost too easily, and had you balancing over the pile of bricks and shingles. “Thanks,” you mumbled, releasing his hand and brushing the dirt off the bottom of your dress. No use - there were days old mud stains all over it already.

“Is this your home?” His eyes surveyed the debris you both stood over, face still shadowed from the sun.

You rolled your eyes. “It was,” you’d scoffed, propping your hands on your hips. The male frowned, his shoulders hunched a bit. You cocked a brow at him, at the rainy evergreen smell that cascaded off of him. His blond hair was unkempt, sun-frayed and tangled at the ends. You took a step closer, onto the large wooden beam that had just bested you.

“Sorry,” he murmured, cheeks tinged pink, chin tilted downwards. Ashamed.

You nodded, standing taller, walking across the wood so you were positioned on the other side of him. The male turned with you, not allowing his back to face you. He mirrored you, perhaps in self defense, as you looked like you were the one scouting your prey. His features became sharper as he faced the sunrise, shadows looming over his face now washed away.

Those emerald green eyes watched you carefully, narrowed, just like those from the forest. His sharp brows furrowed as he watched you assess him, as you put together the pieces rather quickly.

“What would you be sorry for?” You questioned the High Lord. “Did you knock down my house?”

Tamlin didn’t respond, just stood in front of you, those light eyelashes caressing the tops of his high cheekbones as he blinked at you. His jaw clenched, tongue ran over the back of his sharp teeth as he mulled over something to say, only to come up short.

You took his lack of response as an answer in the negative. “Then you have nothing to apologize for.”

“I didn’t stop them,” he replied, voice hoarse. It was as though he hadn’t spoken in years, as if he’d spent far too long roaming the forest in his wolf form. His body was wracked with shame, remorse, and anguish. He didn’t feel the pain when he was outside his Fae form - he didn’t have to bear the anguish of witnessing what happened to his court while he disappeared into the brush.

You nodded in agreement. And while you spent these past hundred years angry, just so frustrated at what had become of your life, you couldn’t find yourself to be upset with him.

Your home had been destroyed, your family gone, everything from the life you once had stripped away entirely. But what could you do? The past had already come and gone, there was nothing you could do to change it.

The male before you felt the opposite, though. His mind was reeling with the resurgence of the memories from the past century. The masks, his friend and former lover gone - ran away to the Night Court, to the male that had murdered his family - under the mountain, the war, the Cauldron.

Gods, all of it was his fault.

His court was destroyed, but it wasn’t the war, it wasn’t the other High Lords infringing on his territory. No, it was all him. It was the lack of his presence in his court that destroyed it from the inside out. And looking at your face, the dirt smudged over your brow, your cheeks splotched from spending days in the sun without shelter, he’d wanted nothing more than to tuck his tail between his legs and disappear back into the woods.

But you were too captivating, your gaze leveled him completely. You didn’t tear into him, didn’t yell at him, didn’t hit him, not the way he knew so many others wanted to. He didn’t know how to help you, how to apologize for abandoning his court. He didn’t have any money to give you, no doubt he assumed the Spring Court estate had been robbed and looted. He wasn’t sure what valuables were even left anyway, after passing on money and jewels to the Archeron family.

“I’d like to help you…” Tamlin trailed off, the words lost. His eyes roamed over the fallen house the two of you stood on. “Rebuild.” His green eyes flitted back up to you, to the doubt and surprise laced over your features. You swallowed, shoulders shrugged in indifference. Gods, you probably hated him. Wanted nothing to do with him. “If you’ll let me.”

“I’m not sure what there is to rebuild,” you replied, kicking at some stone with your dirty boot. “I’m just looking for...” What were you looking for? “Anything.”

Tamlin nodded in understanding. He wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting to come back to, didn’t know what he would stumble upon after he’d returned to his home court. While he was no stranger to being alone, to feeling like an outcast, utterly unworthy of his position in life, he’d never been able to relate to his old friend Lucien so much. While the Vanserra had been banished from his home court, Tamlin felt like the Spring subjects would band together and exile him from his own court, too.

But the male stood still, nothing but the wind blowing his tousled hair around his sharp jaw. He was surely waiting for you, for your permission to return to his life in Spring - a new life, perhaps: a chance to rebuild your home and his life. He needed to earn his place as the High Lord, hell - he needed to learn what it meant to be a leader, to earn the trust of the Spring citizens.

“Well, help me move this, then,” you said simply, gesturing to the dark wood.

You’d quickly come to realize the male just had pent up anger, stress that may have been best relieved by throwing stone and brick around. He was quiet, not speaking unless you��d ask him a question or give him direction to move some debris. Tamlin watched you carefully, just as he had the other night, eyes glossy and pointed, observing how carefully you tended to anything that may have once had value to you. But you hadn’t made much progress, finding just scraps of clothing, a broken necklace, or some rotten food.

“I was in love once, too,” you stated out of nowhere. You kept digging through the pile of broken furniture and wood, head tilted downwards, eyes focused on the task at hand.

Tamlin’s ears perked up and he straightened, wiping his hands on his trousers to remove some of the mud that had caked his palms. He wiped at his brow, the sweat that had built up over the past few hours. He wasn’t sure what to say, you gave him nothing to work off of, offering nothing but confusion for the poor male.

You looked up at him only for a moment, plopping down on your ass with a sigh, resting your aching legs. “It can make you do some fucked up things.”

He almost laughed, would have, if it didn’t burn his throat on the way up. “Even more fucked up things once you’re out of it.”

The sound that pushed past your lips sounded like absolute heaven. It was the only salvation the male needed after years spent growling at beasts in the woods. The giggle that erupted from you - the pure surprise at the High Lord’s comment - it made his heart stop.

But he couldn’t help the deep stabbing feeling through his gut. Guilt. He shouldn’t be enjoying the sweet sound of your laughter, the shine of the sun in your hair, your pretty smile. He shouldn’t enjoy life anymore, not after what he did to yours - to everyones. It was why he shut himself out, far in the thick Spring forest, away from all salvation, any shred of comfort he might have been able to find. After Feyre had left, after Rhysand returned to twist the knife in his once stone chest, there had been no point, no return at High Lord once everything had crumbled.

“Well, Tamlin,” you sighed - the first time hearing his name on your lips. He quite liked the sound of it, but promised not to get used to it. “I think it’s about time we fix some of those fuck ups.”

He rolled his eyes, kicking a heavy log from the top of the pile. “And how do you suppose I do that?”

You huffed another breathy laugh, raising your head and squinting up at him, the sun risen nearly fully in the sky. “You do nothing,” you replied simply, propping your elbows on your knees. “We are going into town.” You opened your palm, that broken gold necklace

And Tamlin felt like folding himself in half and kneeling over that damn pile of rocks. The necklace you’d worked for hours to find ready to trade at the town center. He was absolutely sick. His mind flashed back to the days of the Tithe - how he sat atop his throne, gold jeweled crown atop his head, waiting rather impatiently for the Spring Court subjects to pay their dues. In a court where he did next to nothing to save them - after fifty years of looking for a way out of Amarantha’s plan - they still owed him.

Tamlin had a lot of regrets.

He didn’t know how to act, how to rule a court. Didn’t know how to save his people, how to make up for the lost years.

There was a lot to make up for - he knew it better than anyone.

He just didn’t know how.

You watched his mind reel, how his sharp green eyes fell to the pile of wooden scraps beneath his boots. His dark blond brows knitted together, lips pressed in a firm line, jaw clenched. His chest moved up and down with every breath he took, each one he forced in his lungs. The golden strands of his hair moved around his pointed ears, dancing over his shoulders in the wind.

“I don’t think I can,” he replied, voice just above a whisper.

You pushed yourself to your feet and reached out for him, for the tanned skin of his forearm. You held your fingers around his wrist, the touch shocking the male out of his daze. His breath caught, his mouth and throat suddenly ran dry. “You have to come back. You need to return to us.”

He tried to force himself to swallow, to will his voice to work and reply. To us. He was the only one who could fix what he’d fucked up. He didn’t know exactly how, but you were right. It would start with the return of the High Lord, with the promise of forgiveness from his subjects. He’d have to beg for forgiveness, pray that they would grant him amnesty.

He nodded though, which was all he could muster the strength for. He let you keep hold of his wrist - he didn’t even know how long it had been since another Fae had touched him - and guide him off the pile of debris, not missing how your boots skidded along the loose bricks. He reached out with his other hand to steady you, a firm hand on your hip as you stumbled to a halt, managing to remain upright.

By the Cauldron, you felt good. Warm, delicate, you smelled like the gardens after a fresh rain. He dropped his hand just as quickly, before his mind really fell into the gutter. Perhaps the years of solitude had finally gotten to him, he thought. He had officially gone mad. So he stayed composed, letting you drop his wrist from your hand - not without a backward glance at him.

“We’ll see what we can get,” you continued, beginning to walk towards the center of the town. You lived far enough on the outskirts that not many others passed by, none alerted to the fact their High Lord had returned. “The blacksmiths will probably be the only ones who will trade for it. Nobody really has use for gold anymore.”

He noted the drop in your voice, the bleakness that laced your tone. Tamlin walked only a half step behind you, yet he towered over you, his chest cleared above your head, shadow fully engulfing you. “How is the food supply?”

You knew it felt foreign for him, especially to ask now after years of his disappearance into the woods. But you could tell he was trying, gathering his bearings and reassessing the court - where he needed to start first. “Not great, honestly. There are only a few who have enough weapons to hunt in the woods.”

Tamlin knew all too well what lurked in the woods. They would be lucky if they could catch deer or rabbit, let alone an elk or mare. “I’ll see what I can manage to catch tonight,” he replied grimly, lips pressing into a frown. Under the moon was the best time to hunt, where there were surely no endangered Fae out, when the large beasts went to roam the woods, using the cover of night to avoid the hunters. The only thing that would be able to catch them lurked just behind you: a wolf.

You eyed the clouds that began to roll in overhead, dimming the sun’s bright light. “That would help,” you replied, hoping the words of encouragement would ease his mind, but not sound too desperate that they scared the male.

You walked the rest of the way in silence, peaceful albeit awkward. Tamlin’s fingers twitched at his sides - it was almost as though he barely remembered how to walk as a Fae male. You knew those green eyes that watched you from the forest were his. The second you saw the High Lord that morning, you realized you’d stared into his wolfish eyes - hungry and chilling, sad and remorseful.

His gaze shifted from left to right constantly, walking through the clutter of buildings and broken wood. Half the buildings had been looted, some torn down entirely. Fae gathered around stands and what was left of the remaining shops. He felt their eyes burning into him, heard the murmuring ringing in his ears. Some were confused, others outright scared, but none approached him.

You took Tamlin to the dim stone building, the only light pouring in from the window and cracks in the walls - no faelights or candles in sight. “He and his wife have the baked goods - there aren’t many other iron pans left in the town, he’s got the bulk of them.” Your eyes flitted around the shop, at the pile of iron ingots stacked on one of the tables. “I could never manage enough to get one, to bake my own bread over the fire.” You shot Talmin a sharp look, then eyed the shop owner across the room. “Good morning, Oleander,” you greeted the old male, hunched over a table lined with gleaming metal knives.

The hairs on the High Lord’s neck stood, a chill running down his spine at the sight of the swords hanging on the wall, the bows and arrows piled in the corner. “(Y/N),” he replied gruffly. “What brings you in?”

You turned back to Talmin, getting eyes on the male to ensure he was still in toe. “I was wondering what you might give me for this gold.” You held the necklace out to him, the cracked pendant and broken chain gleaming in your dirty palm.

“Ah,” he breathed, grabbing the necklace with his own filthy hand. “Given the condition, I’m afraid I can only give you…” He squinted at the old pendant, what seemed to be a depiction of the Mother with flowers braided throughout her hair. Tamlin’s mother once had a similar one. “Last week’s bread.”

“Old bread?” Tamlin couldn’t help but scoff, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

The blacksmith’s eyes show up toward him, as if his eyes and ears deceived him. Oleander, clearly half blind, squinted at the High Lord. “Do you have an issue with my pricing?” He questioned Tamlin - who was certainly not used to the bite back from his subjects. “I think I’m being more than fair to the female.” He looked Tamlin up and down.

“Fair?” Tamlin barked a laugh. “You own all of the weapons and food in the town and you’re telling me what’s fair?” He didn’t miss the sight of you backing up, right out of the corner of his eye. You inched towards the door, palms facing outwardly behind you, feeling as soon as your backside touched the door jam. Oleander stood, broad and burly, inching forward toward the both of you. By then, the shop had dimmed, dark clouds rolling over outside. The Fae had gathered around to watch, to see the High Lord for the first time in nearly decades.

“Oh,” he laughed, standing, grabbing one of the polished knives. He raised his voice and stepped closer to Tamlin, cornering him out the door in the same direction you were fleeing. “The High Lord has returned to preach on decorum.” Tamlin dropped his hands to his sides, unclenched fists, not looking to start the physical fight, but prepared to defend himself. He could surely take the old male on easily, even if he had been armed with half the swords in his collection. “After years of abandonment, of leaving his people to suffer at the hands of the beasts, he’s come to exhort fairness and righteousness.”

The Fae outside watched as you and Tamlin joined them outside the shop, many of their interests piqued at the sight of the golden haired male.

“He’s back?”

“I thought he had died…” “He would be better off that way.”

“Never thought I’d live the day I would rather see Beron than him.”

“Shut up, he’s returned to help.” “No way - he’s just going to start the Tithe again.”

There were giggles amongst the murmuring crowd, laughing surely at the old Fae male that had the High Lord backing out of his shop. There were no words he could say to ease the crowd, to change their minds, to earn their trust. He wanted nothing more than to shift back into a wolf and hide away in the forest alone.

“We didn’t come to make trouble, Oleander,” you spoke up calmly, empty hands raised in surrender. “He’s come to make peace.”

He rolled his eyes, amongst another burst of whispering from the gathered crowd. “Peace,” he spat. “That’s what we all used to know before he abandoned us and left us for dead.”

Tamlin’s jaw set, anger flashed through his eyes. There were some agreements exchanged by the other Fae. There were very few who sought to give their High Lord a second chance.

Fuck, second or third? Or fourth chance? Tamlin couldn’t count.

“We’re leaving, okay?” You inched closer to him, right until your shoulder pressed up against his bicep. “But please - ” you turned to face the crowd, what Tamlin could only assume were your friends, others you could consider almost family. “Please, just keep an open mind. If you’d been shunned, abandoned in the woods, you’d want us to accept you back.” There were a few nods, but many blank stares as you began walking away from the town, back towards the forest clearing. “No more hatred. We’ve had decades of spite, of shame.” Before you turned on your heel, before you grabbed Tamlin’s forearm to pull him away with you, you added: “Let us find peace again. Together: united as one court.”

Fuck, Tamlin thought. You’d spoken all of the things he should have said. He wondered if you’d practiced that little speech, if one day you secretly hoped he’d come back so you could preach that very surmon.

Tamlin pushed that thought far down in the depth of his mind.

But perhaps Oleander had a point. Perhaps they would all be better off taking care of themselves without the rule of an artificial High Lord. They surely managed to come this far. It wasn’t like Tamlin would be able to protect the town himself - he’d have to rebuild armies before infrastructure, to guard the town from the forest before they could sift through the remains of the down.

You’d dragged him along nonetheless, guiding him anywhere but the town. It was back toward your home - what remained of it, anyway. But the sky was grey by then, dark clouds shielding you both from the once bright sun. The soft crackle of thunder reverberated from the Summer Coast. “I’m - ” you cut yourself off with a sigh, dropping his arm, but continuing on your trek. “I’m not sure where we can get shelter for the evening. I don’t think anyone will let us stay for the storm.”

You were surely not on your way to make any amends, though. You just kept walking back towards your little plot of land, not that there was anywhere for you two to take cover until the rain washed away.

Tamlin kept his eyes trained in front of him, not daring to spare a look at your shining eyes as he spoke. “Follow me.”

So you did. You almost didn’t recognize it, afterall, it had been almost a century since you’d walked that path. Nature had reclaimed most of it, the trail completely gone. Tamlin’s long legs stepped over vines and fallen logs, and he held your hand for balance as you followed in his footsteps - he’d even lifted you through particularly muddy patches, simply lifting you up and placing you down before him like you weighed nothing.

The walk to his manor would have taken a mere half hour on horseback, perhaps just over an hour had the path remained. But it would take a few for the two of you to find your way back to the Spring Court Estate in the condition of the forest. Especially as the rain started to fall, the heavy droplets hard against your skin as they fell from the sky.

You walked for what felt like the whole first half in silence. Nothing but the sound of Tamlin slicing thick leaves and branches, clearing what he could from the once barren path. You listened to the rain, to your own ragged breath as you struggled to keep up with the male.

You watched his golden hair darken as it became damp with rain. His white linen shirt clung to his back and arms, you’d noted the ridges carved deep into his body as his muscles flexed, working around the forest that overtook the path. He slowed once the two of you stumbled upon a clearer area, falling into step beside you.

You could feel the tension radiating from him, his fists were clenched at his side, the hairs on his arms stood up. He wasn’t used to wondering the woods as a Fae, hell - he hadn’t been in Fae form in years. Those woods felt all too familiar to him out of his wolf form, reminded him of all the times he’d fucked up in that very spot. He needed to distract himself, clear away the memories of his friend Lucien, his once lover, his newfound family.

“I was in love once,” he said, voice gruff, muffled from the sound of the rain falling against the wide leaves. He repeated your sentiment from earlier - an acknowledgement of his past, perhaps even an apology. “But I’m pretty sure she was fucking my emissary.”

You’d nearly choked.

“That’s - uh - ” Gods, what do you say to that?

He shrugged. “My feelings for her weren’t fake,” he continued, nonchalantly, as though he’d had nothing but time to come to terms with what had transpired. You supposed he did, though, and were sure that was the only thing on his mind. “I just didn’t know how to act.”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to keep what little body heat you had, as the cold water sent shivers down your spine.

He shrugged. “Someone ought to hear the truth - ” Tamlin paused, only for a moment, as his green eyes narrowed in on the estate before you both. Trees covered the once stony walls, vines and thick ivy woven up all the windows and over the balconies. “You seem to be the only one who will listen.”

“I don’t not believe you, Tamlin.” You let him lead the rest of the way, pushing past the thick brush that guarded you from the estate as you neared the large castle. “Sometimes people aren’t who you think they are.”

At that, Tamlin dipped his head, turning to the side only slightly, just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your solemn expression. The rain had dripped down your face, over the curve of your nose and over your cheeks. He admired the way they clumped on your eyelashes, how you didn’t have a care in the world all covered in rain - perhaps you had more important concerns. Much too worried about where you’d sleep that night, where you next meal would come from, if you’d have shelter from the beasts, than to worry about his sob story.

But you caught his gaze from the corner of your eye, where you’d found those bright emerald eyes washing over your form. Shadows cascaded down his straight nose, his eyelashes nearly touching his cheekbones. You’d wondered if it was the wolf in him that gave him those long eyelashes and thick hair, his sharp teeth and chiseled jaw. He carried himself like a High Lord, shoulders back and chest puffed out - perhaps the closer he got to his home, the more normal he felt. It was a routine, the same path he’d often walked with his friends: Lucien, Bron, Alis, Hart, those that worked for him yes, but also the only ones he could consider truly his family.

Tamlin used the small knife he had to cut though the thick vines over the stairs. He’d moved each of the fallen logs, twice as heavy because they were waterlogged, and cleared the pathway to the front doors. He wanted to create a wide opening, should you decide in the middle of the night that you’d want to escape - run away from him, from the court. He didn’t want you to feel like a prisoner - he scoffed to himself, he apparently had a knack for that.

He’d opened the door for you, watching as you gathered the hem of your soaked skirts and your muddy boots squished against the stone steps. You nodded in thanks, unable to move your eyes away from the entryway. The ceiling was fully glass, and despite the rain and clouds, cast a looming light onto the marble walls and floors. The rain echoed in the walls, the fat droplets hitting the roof hard. The heavy curtains and canvases on the walls had been ripped to shreds, rock and stone cracked and scattered along the hallways. The grand staircase was broken, missing a few steps, the railing half gone.

You wondered what war went on here, while Tamlin tried to forget exactly that.

He hadn’t been to his home in years. But he knew what would be left to salvage, the rooms he’d lost the energy to tear completely apart. So Tamlin followed you in, guiding you down one of the corridors. “We should be able to find some blankets and clothes this way,” he said, voice just above a whisper. It was so deep that it vibrated in your bones, sending shivers down your freezing spine.

He’d stirred you through the wide halls, pulling you away with a firm hand on your hip when you’d tried to move toward the great dining room. His hand was hot on your waist, right at the curve of your back as he pulled you one step closer to him. “Not that way.” His eyes were fixed on the mahogany doors, hiding whatever may lie beyond. While he was almost certain he’d left you with the idea there may be Naga or wolves or some other beasts beyond those walls, he didn’t want to correct you with the truth. The gross truth that that’s where he left the elk Rhysand brought him so long ago, no doubt rotted away and disintegrated into the table - that, or it would have been swept away by some creature, perhaps for food or simply to play with its carcass. Either way, he didn’t want to find out.

There were holes in the roof, in the floors above, that leaked through the halls. You stepped around the puddles, dodging the stream of rain that fell from the ceiling. Tamlin pushed open one of the many doors in the long hallway, a dark bedroom on the other side. “It’s not my room, don’t worry.”

You turned up to face him. He looked weary, uneasy being back in this estate. “I wasn’t worried, Tamlin.”

He released a breath, his chest visibly falling at your words. He followed you in, closing the door to shut out the cold that the rain had brought to Spring. He’d brought you to one of the guest rooms, never had been occupied by a member of his court. It went untouched during Tamlin’s rage, there had been no evidence of life to destroy. He’d managed to rummage around and quickly find some candles, digging through drawers and closets to find a dry book of matches.

While Tamlin lit the room, you were drawn to the soft couch in the corner, pulling every blanket and piece of cloth you could find. Gods, it had been so long since you had a good night’s rest, since you sat on a plush sofa and had the softest blankets around you. But you had to wait. Your dress was soaked, you’d been dragging water and mud behind you that whole time. “Do you have any…” you trailed off with a sigh, assuming the male didn’t have any spare dresses lying around.

You actually would be more concerned if he did.

“There may be something,” he replied, picking up on your predicament. He sifted through the armoire again, the flickering candles aiding his search. He’d come up with some clothes, a few linen pants and loose shirts. He held everything out to you, a pile of clean fabric.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d worn clean clothes. Tamlin noted how your eyes widened, like you’d hit the jackpot, like you’d never seen pajamas before - clean clothes. He cursed himself once again for cursing his people, for abandoning them and forcing them to live in destroyed homes and a looted town.

You pulled a handful of clothes from his offering, your wet skin crying out for warmth. “There’s a bathing chamber that way.” He nodded to the door far off in the corner. “Doubt there’s any water but…” he trailed off with a shrug.

“Thank you,” you replied, legs practically begging to take you to the bathroom and change into the pajamas. So you’d scurried away, grabbing a candle to light your way into the bath chamber. The mirror was cracked, covered in dust. But you quickly shucked off your wet dress, grabbing the shirt from the pile and wiped yourself dry, wringing out your hair in the fabric. You pulled on the next shirt, the huge cotton long-sleeve that fell halfway down your thighs. No doubt it had been designed for the High Lord, perhaps even his emissary. But you’d take what you could get, throwing on another shirt for warmth, then the linen pants. You fisted the waist, pulling one of the strings from your dress bodice to tie the pants snugly around your waist.

Through the dirty mirror, you made out the dark circles under your eyes, your tired eyes and wild hair. You suppressed a sigh, too tired to care one bit. So you returned to the drawing room, finding the High Lord in a fresh set of clothes as well.

He was trying to busy himself, sifting through the pile of blankets you’d managed to create, even adding a few more to your pile. He didn’t want to be rude, to fall onto the soft couch or bed without first making sure you were taken care of.

His heart stopped when he turned, seeing you swimming in the Spring Court clothing, even just those too-large pajamas. You looked so relieved, so comfortable and, honestly, ready to pass out for the evening. So he cleared his throat: “You can have the bed.” It was all he said, added a head nod towards the other end of the room, where the mattress was, nothing but some sheets atop it. “I was going to give you these.” He gestured to his pile of blankets. All the soft looking ones in one pile, the thin scratchy material separated behind him.

“We can share the bed, no?” You made your way toward him and grabbed an armful of the blankets he’d folded. “We could both use the nice bed, I’m sure. I imagine it’s been longer for you than me.”

Tamlin cocked a brow, watched as you trudged over to the bed, dumping everything atop it. “I’ve managed just fine.”

You glanced over your shoulder at the male. “Bring those other ones,” you called out, ignoring her words. “We’ll probably need them if this rain doesn’t let up.”

Tamlin shook his head to himself but did as told, not in the mood to argue with the female, especially not the beautiful one wearing his clothes. So he brought over the rest of the blankets, even the scratchy ones, and helped you make the bed. It was haphazard, sure, some of them not big enough to cover the whole bed, a patchwork of covers, some yours, some his, then the ones stitching you together down the middle.

You climbed in immediately.

The sigh you let loose from your lips almost had Tamlin on his knees before you. Your back cracked when you laid down, plush mattress cushioning your spine in a way you hadn’t felt in a long while. You slept on the hard wooden planks of your neighbor’s floor since your house had been torn down, freezing and stiff. You hadn’t remembered the last time you’d had a full nights rest.

The same went for the male beside you. He’d been holed up in some cave on the Spring-Autumn border, where the wind whistled past and the cold seeped through the rock into his bone. His thick golden fur only did so much to protect him from the chill. He was surprised he hadn’t gotten himself killed out there, and he didn’t even want to think about everything he himself had killed in those past years.

“What made you come back?” Your soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts, he blinked a few times before pulling the covers back and joining you on the opposite end. He was careful to leave space, to not encroach. His palms caught on the scratchy fabric of the blanket he’d laid on his half, calluses hard and broken, left from his many years of tearing apart flesh with his paws.

“I was tired of being a coward,” he replied humbly. “I ran away from everything that happened. Pretended like it never happened and shut myself away.” He ran a hair through his half-dried hair, fingers getting tangled at the ends.

“You were alone?” It was a cross between a question and a statement, he wasn’t sure which you were going for - probably the former.

“I’ve been alone my whole life. Everyone I come across either leaves or tries to kill me.”

He felt you turn, shift on your side to gaze at him with what little light remained of the candle. Tamlin kept his eyes trained on the covers above him, unable to face the pity that probably laced your features. “Did they try to kill you?” Your voice shook, afraid to even ask the question, terrified of the response.

He offered you a half shrug. “They left…willingly,” he’d added, mulling over the words in his head. “Though I suppose I not-so-willingly let them. I don’t know how to keep friends, it seems.”

“I suppose that’s better than the other option.”

Them killing him. “Better when it’s not your own family, too.” It was no secret the previous High Lord had a knack for starting wars, for sending his sons to fight his battles for him. Tamlin had a reputation far before his powers even matured - his brothers’ even more so. But what you didn’t know was that they were ready to kill him the instant he matured into a stronger male. He wasn’t glad they were dead, but he was glad he was safe - even if only for a little while. He had found few friends before the curse, a lover afterwards, even. But just like his father and brothers, he could not show love, no matter how hard he willed it, he kept fucking up.

That’s what it felt like, at least. He supposed he was the jester of the Spring Court in the end. The friends he’d had and the lies they told him: you never made me feel like a prisoner - her voice rang in his head. Soon they were gone, twisting the opposite tale to the male that murdered his family. Nothing could be forgiven in Prythian, no reconciliation to be made between courts. There was no coping, no help from his friends, no one to confide in. So he did the only thing he knew how: shut himself out. Just like he had his former lover, keeping her safe in that very estate.

He kept every Fae who remained in Spring safe from himself, even if that meant casting himself into the woods.

You shifted only a bit, but close enough that you reached over and tucked your soft blanket around his shoulders, over his chest that had nearly gone cold from the rain and chill outside. You were close enough that Tamlin could pick up on your flowery scent, that he noted the small hint of honey and cherry blossom lingering along your skin.

It had been so long since he’d touched another Fae, since he felt someone care for him. He couldn’t help it - his head fell onto your shoulder, right where the crook of your neck met your collarbone, a perfect fit for the crownless male. “And how have you fared, Tamlin? Now that you are a free male?”

Free.

Free from what? From his duties as a High Lord, surely he’d abandoned them years ago, letting the Naga and the beasts of the Spring Court take over the sacred land. Free from Amarantha’s glamor, the shackles she’d chained him with under the mountain? Free from the binds she kept on his mind, the nightmares - memories - he relived each evening?

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be free from it.

He didn’t know how to cope. Not when the only people he’s ever cared about left. Not when his best friend left him when he clearly needed the most help, not when his lover left to wed his mortal enemy, then bare his child. But he apologized to her, for all the trauma he must have caused, locking her away, fearful of who else from Prythian would come to spite him by taking away the female he loved, by he saving her mate.

He cursed himself. Surely, someone ought to have a happy ending. Might as well have been her.

He was upset, in fact. When it all came down to it, everything was traced back to his anger. He was blind to his own emotion, it’s what caused him to act without thinking - a strategy he’d never seemed to master, not like the other High Lords. It ended up causing him his newfound family, his Court, it got the Archeron sisters caught and thrown into the Cauldron, it spurred the war. He was a failure, he’d lost the Spring Court and his pride alongside it. He’d been played like that godsdamned fiddle.

And Tamlin let himself lie in that dark cave night after night, rotting in a lifetime of regret.

He could only shake his head, nose rubbing against your skin that poked out from the loose collar of your - his - shirt. “I swear I will rebuild the Court, (Y/N),” he whispered, breath warm on your skin. His lips just barely touched your skin as he spoke. “I promise it, I’ll run the beasts out and fix the mess I’ve made. Even if nobody believes me, if they’ve lost all faith in me.”

Your hand fell downwards over the blanket you’d placed over him, fell down the soft fabric over his chest. “Actions, not words.” He tilted his head up, and those deep green eyes met yours instantly. His gaze washed over your face, over the sheer determination and strength, but in utter admiration as you spoke. “Show them.”

You lifted your hand, fingers twitching in hesitancy, but your mind worked too fast. You brushed your hand over his cheekbone, over the strong jaw and tanned skin. He nearly shivered, nearly broke out in a godsdamned sob.

Tamlin was fighting to keep his emotions intact, to stop himself from absolutely crumbling apart in the safety of your arms. He slowly shifted upright, sitting beside you, back against the headboard just as you sat. You never moved your hand, save for your thumb running over his cheek, tracing where the light stubble had grown in over his jaw and cheek.

His own hand fell to your hip, safely above the covers. But the added weight of him caused the shift, the simple weight of his large hand on you sparked something inside of you.

So you leaned in.

You didn’t know what it was. If it was the fact you’d hadn’t been held in years, the fact you laid in bed together, cold from the rain and nearly out of candles. If it was the fact that he’d opened up for what probably was the first time ever, the male with the worst reputation - his ill temper, his tendency to fight, how godsdamned beastly was - laid out and vulnerable in your arms.

Your lips met his softly, a firm enough kiss where you felt equally matched, as if he, too, was waiting for you to do it; but soft enough that he would pull back if you did, that he would restrain himself from going further, should you realize you’ve made a mistake.

You did the opposite, though, barely breaking away for breath, parting your lips just enough to gasp for air before pushing against him once more. Your hand raked through his long hair, so Tamlin had no choice but to do the same. His fingertips wove through your own hair as his hand rose from your hip to cradle your jaw, tilting your head to the side.

He tasted sweet, not what you were expecting from the male whose scent lingered with the sultry forest and fresh morning dew. He was gentile, too. His tongue moving only to trace your bottom lip, nothing more. Your lips moved over each other in sync, breathing in tandem and letting those soft sighs escape between the two of you.

You pulled him closer, winding your other arm around his neck as you laid back, sliding further onto the bed where he had to drop a hand beside you to hold himself up. But he kissed you anyway, like you were the last breath of life for that dying male.

Perhaps you were giving him life, that spark he needed to reignite the male inside of him who he once was.

Your hand trailed down his chest as he continued deepening the kiss, lips moving quickly over yours, growing hungrier, more desperate. You fisted at his loose shirt, not even bothering to untie it, just slipped your hand underneath from the bottom where it hung so loosely from his body. His abdomen shivered under your touch, your fingertips tracing the hard rigid muscle. Tamlin sighed against your mouth, trying (and failing) to suppress the groan that built up in the back of his throat.

So he’d pulled away, the sound of your lips parting from his loud and wet, a sound he’d practically forgotten about over the past decades spent alone. His forehead dropped against yours and you felt the tickle of his hair against your cheek. “I can’t - I’ve already caused too much destruction. I’ll hurt you.”

It didn’t feel real - he had to stop himself, break free of the dream he was surely living in. Another female, not only giving him the time of day, but who cared for him without even knowing him. He huffed a loose laugh, and muttered to himself: “I’m going mad.”

His lips were still far too close to yours. They barely touched as you spoke. “Take it out on me.” You tilted your jaw up, just barely high enough to capture his lips with yours. “I can take it, Tamlin.”

He shivered, I’ve heard that before. “I don’t want you to have to.”

You peered up at him where he gazed down adoringly at you, from underneath those long light eyelashes of his. He’d bent down for one more kiss, all his passion put behind that one last time of your lips pressed together.

He only pulled away when he ran out of air.

He slotted down beside you, his arm curled under your shoulders, the other crossed above the blankets, the piles of soft and scratchy ones, and fell over your bodies to rest on your hip. You fell asleep with your face buried in his chest and your arm flung around him, dreaming of the promise tomorrow held.

#tamlin #tamlin acotar #tamlin x reader #tamlin x you #tamlin/reader #tamlin/you #tamlin fanfic #tamlin oneshot #tamlin one shot #tamlin imagine

586 notes · View notes

narcissarina · 6 months

Text

“𝚈𝚘𝚞... 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐.”

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6.4ᴋ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs/ᴛᴀɢs: ᴀɴɢsᴛ! ʜᴜʀᴛ sᴏᴍᴇʜᴏᴡ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴀᴍᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ɴᴏᴛ, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜs, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴡᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇʀs ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴇʀᴀ (ғʀᴏᴍ 500 ʏᴇᴀʀs ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴛ), ғ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ᴋᴀʙᴜᴋɪᴍᴏɴᴏ ᴄᴀʟʟs ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ʜɪs ᴍᴏᴍ♥︎), ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀs ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ʀᴇɪɴᴄᴀʀɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ғᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴᴇ ᴄɪᴛɪᴢᴇɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴋᴀʙᴜᴋɪᴍᴏɴᴏ, sᴄᴀʀᴀᴍᴏᴜᴄʜᴇ, ᴋᴜʀᴏɴᴏsʜɪ, ᴋᴜɴɪᴋᴜᴢᴜsʜɪ, ᴡᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇʀ, ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴛ ᴏғ ᴛᴇʏᴠᴀᴛ, sᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀ!! ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇᴡᴇsᴛ ᴛʀᴀɪʟᴇʀ ғʀᴏᴍ ғᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴘʜᴇᴄʏ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴅʏɪɴɢ/ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜs! ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴏʀ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ sᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀs. ғʟᴜғғ + ᴀɴɢsᴛ.

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ғɪɴᴅ ᴀ ʟᴏsᴛ ʙᴏʏ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴏᴅs, ʜᴇ ᴡᴀs sʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇғᴜʟʟʏ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴀss. ɪɴsᴛᴇᴀᴅ ᴏғ ᴡᴀᴋɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍ ᴜᴘ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʀɪᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴀʀʀʏ ʜɪᴍ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴀʟʟ ᴡᴀʏ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɢᴇ, ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ, ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɢᴇ ᴄʜɪᴇғ sᴄᴏʟᴅᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴄᴀʀʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴏᴜɴɢ ʙᴏʏ ᴀʟʟ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ. ᴇᴠᴇʀ sɪɴᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴇɴ, ʜᴇ ɪɴsɪsᴛ ᴏɴ ʜᴇʟᴘɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴛᴀsᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴇᴇᴅs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ɴᴏʀ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴏɴ. ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀsᴋ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ғᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴘᴜᴘ ʜᴇ ɪs, ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟsᴏ ғɪɴᴅ ɪᴛ ᴏᴅᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇs ɴᴏᴛ ᴏᴡɴ ᴀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ɴᴏʀ ᴄᴀɴ ʜᴇ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ʜɪᴍsᴇʟғ, ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴇʟᴘ ʜɪᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴋᴀʙᴜᴋɪᴍᴏɴᴏ. ᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ʜᴇ sʟɪᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ “ᴍᴏᴍ” ᴏʀ “ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ”, ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴛʀᴀɢᴇᴅʏ ᴄᴀᴍᴇ. ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʀᴀɢᴇᴅʏ ᴄᴏsᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪғᴇ ᴏʀ ᴄᴏsᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ sᴇᴘᴇʀᴀᴛᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴏᴜs ᴋᴀʙᴜᴋɪᴍᴏɴᴏ?

ᴀ/ɴ: ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴛʜɪs, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴛʜᴀᴛ, ʜᴏᴡ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴀ ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ ʀs ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇʀs ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴇʀᴀ ᴄᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ʜɪs ᴍᴏᴍ? ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ɪ ᴅɪᴅ ʜɪs ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴇʀᴀ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛɪᴄᴇ, ɪ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʜɪs ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴍʏ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ ʀᴀᴍʙʟᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʜɪᴍ ʟᴏʟ. sᴏ ɪ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴛʜɪs, ɢʀᴀᴍᴍᴀᴛɪᴄᴀʟ ᴇʀʀᴏʀs ᴀʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴘᴏᴏᴋɪᴇs;) ᴅᴏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴘʟᴀʏᴇᴅ ғᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴᴇ ǫᴜᴇsᴛ ʏᴇᴛ ʙᴄ ᴍʏ sᴄʜᴇᴅ ɪs ᴘᴀᴄᴋᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ ɪs ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ʟᴏsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴍɪɴᴅ ɢʀʀʀʀʀ. ᴅɪᴅ ɪ ᴄʀʏ? ʏᴇs, ʏᴇs ɪ ᴅɪᴅ.

It’s funny how you got yourself in this situation, it felt like you adopted a puppy than a helper. What’s his name again? Kabukimono? Cute little innocent guy you took in. It was funny when he slipped up and called you “mom” or “mother.”

“Here, mom.” Kabukimono took the wood you have gathered, “let me help.” He insisted as a smile spread across his face, the sun illuminates with his smile as if the sun was also smiling upon him. You gave him a pat in his head, “I can handle this.” You assured and tried to get the log of woods back.

He took the logs and pressed it against his chest, as if he’s hugging it and not wanting to let go. He insist, he wanted to help you like how you helped him.

You could only sigh and pinch his cheeks gently, a soft sigh as you see him walk away with the logs, your eyes went a little wide when he almost trip himself—he turn around to face you from the distance and gave you a thumbs up. What a cute little guy.

After placing the log to its rightful place, he runs up to you and hugs you around the waist as you were taller than him, “very good, Kabuki.” You praise and caress the back of his head, feeling his dark purple hair. He beams with a smile like a ray of sunshine, you noticed that his sleeves were a little dirty.

“Did you trip into mud or something, dear?” you asked him with a worried you, also noticing that he had a little bruise on his left elbow. “I’m fine.” He said, his brows knitted together as he doesn’t want you to worry too much about him.

“How about you?” he tilts his head, his arms still around your waist and his chin resting on your chest—where he can happily hear how your heart beats, you don’t know why but he said that hearing it beat makes his mind at ease.

A yell was heard from the distance, it was the village chief. “Kabukimono!” he called out for the boy, “coming!” Kabukimono yelled as he looks up at you again, meeting eye to eye as you brush a strand of hair away from his baby soft face. He looks like a sad puppy when someone needs him, where he’ll be only a few minutes away from you.

“You planning on going?”

“But I don’t want to leave you.”

“It’s ok, I’ll take it from here.” You assured and kissed his forehead—sweet, soft, and gentle. Just like how he loves it. He nodded and was now off the run. He was running happily as he help the village chief bring and sort some supplies for the people.

Look at that sweet child! Always helping other people when they need him, you always see him hanging around the blacksmiths. Helping and learning to make iron weapons and chatting with the other boy there, his name? You didn’t get to know him but all you know that Kabuki was always on his side, maybe a friend?

Sometimes, his naivety and willing to help always worries you. His willingness and wanting to be helpful… you can’t form a word to it, because sometimes you’ll hear him say weird things nor that some insult was a good compliment. As if, you worry that he’s easy to manipulate.

Maybe you worry too much, but it’s better to worry when that kid seeks your presence, sees you as his “mother” and wanting to be held close to your warmth. He’ll politely ask whether he could even cuddle with you to sleep.

In your sleep, you were blessed by the gods above, the heavenly principle—Celestia.

“What does it do?” Kabuki asked, poking the hard glass of the electro vision where it’s hanging on your right side of your chest. You could only chuckle when he observe and awe when you match your clothes to your vision before he catch your waist again and nuzzle his cheek against the fabric of your new attire, “soft.” He murmur and deeply inhale and exhale as he buried his head in your chest.

“To answer your question, my dear Cecilia.” You pressed your lips on top of his head and pinch his cheeks as he holds himself close to you, as if he wants to be part of you on how he’s being passive-aggressive, “It’s a vision, given by Celestia when you are acknowledged by them.”

“It’s purple.”

“because it’s an electro vision.”

“you can choose visions?”

You want to laugh at his remark, but seeing how dear and innocent he is—you hugged him tightly as he is hugging tightly to you, you answered, “No, you can’t choose visions, if Celestia gives me that option then I could’ve picked the anemo vision by now.” You laughed.

“why didn’t you?”

“Because I can’t, Kabuki.”

“a certain vision will only be given, maybe it’s because of ‘the key is people’s desires.’” You added and patted his back, “why don’t you go and play?”

“I rather take care of you.” He murmur against your chest, not moving or even budging one bit as if he’s glued into you. “please.” There it is, the eyes that he knew you love so much, that you can’t even say no to him. He knows this.

“You haven’t taken your medicine, again.” He slightly frowns and rest his chin against your chest, his brows knitted in genuine worry. You smiled sweetly at him, “It’s hard to have a grab of a medicine nowadays, dear.” You trace your fingertips along to his hair, soothing his head as he let out a soft sigh against your touch.

“You need to be in shape or else the chief will scold you again.”

“I know.”

“Take your meds then.” He buried himself yet again against your chest.

He’d be like a lost puppy with you, everywhere you go—he’ll be there to follow.

Every sight and venture to the woods, he’ll be there to prepare your needs as he wants to look after your health.

After all, you are an ill person, a sick vision holder. And since he learned that vision has powers, he is worried to you as you are worried to him.

In the night, when the stars are visible—he will ask you to come join him stargazing, simplest things and small gestures makes him happy. Nothing too fancy, nothing too big nor small. Just you and him, under the stars till the two count a thousands of stars.

You were everything to him. And he was everything to you, as if the world had gone small and only left the two of you.

Would a day come where you have come to meet your demise? As this happiness and endless of laughter with this sunshine has been a little too good to be true. As if, the sun was smiling too much upon the two of you.

Was it smiling? Or was it mocking?

დ➳დ➳დ↴

You were making some food and cutting up fruits, accidentally cut your index finger and hiss brought Kabukimono’s attention to you as he hurriedly got up to you, “Are you okay, mom?” he asked as he confusingly stared up at you when you brought your bloody finger uo to your mouth to suck the blood out.

“I’m fine.” You stated, almost a muffle as you suck your own finger off. You glance at your ingredients and you lack of Lavender melons, “By the way,” you pulled your finger back from your lips and got to the nearest pond to wash your finger, “Can you find me more lavender melons, Kabuki?” you asked of him. He nodded and sat beside you when you wash your finger off, you smiled and mouthed that you are fine.

He was worried, but did what you asked as you assured him you are fine.

He had picked a few Lavender Melons, some trees were a little high for him to reach—resulting him to use one of his sandal and throw it at the melons. After a few fail attempts, the melon falls as he quickly got into his feet and caught the falling fruit that might explode when falling from a very high surface.

He was… messy. Dirt around his white kariginu outfit with a lavender veil, somehow, he didn’t pay attention to his dirty attire. All he thinks about was the delicious food you’ll be making and desserts with these fruits, even he, himself knew that he doesn’t need food to full himself nor get energy from them. Why? He’s a puppet, of course.

Does he feel bad when you prepare him food even though he doesn’t need it like humans do? No, in fact. He enjoys the food you made for him, he loves your cooking and loves it more when you eat with him while he listens to you talk.

The fact that you sent him out to gather a few lavender melons for ingredients, it delights him that you stay at home while he is useful and helpful to you. He was delighted that you found him first and took him in.

You treated him with kindness that he never knew needed nor know about it, he felt like he could trust you completely—but doubt crawls over to his mind, if he told you that he’s a puppet. How would you react?

Would you hate him? Throw him away? Tell the whole village that he’s not one of you? Would you turn your back on him and leave him behind? Abandon him?

A lavender melon fell onto his head, snapping him back to reality. It looks like he zoned out for a bit. He brush the back of his head and chuckle to himself, keeping a positive energy and took the lavender melon to his arms as he stood up and hops his steps back to the village.

How delighted he will be when he comes home having two to five lavender melons he had taken… and thanking the tress for it. He loves hearing your praises when he did something good and that made you smile, he would cling and watch you slice those fruits up and feed him a slice and make a little mini jump of excitement.

It was a nice walk way back, he swung open the door and greeted with a huge smile in his face, “Mother, I’m back!” he yelled and run up to you on the table where you bandage up your small cut wound.

Your smile and the touch of your warm hand was the small thing that’ll keep him happy, your voice that’s been singing praises will play in his ears as you acknowledge his help and usefulness, “Very good, Kabuki.” You place a quick kiss against his forehead and took the lavender melons from his arms.

“Kabuki, how about you go help the chi-”

You fail to form your sentence as screams were heard outside, your heart dropped. Fear overcomes as you move by instinct and pulled Kabukimono by his arm, directly going towards to the other door where you go out and train with your wooden dummies. You look back and see to him, those screams…

He was terrified.

“W-What’s happening..?” He manage to ask, his tone mix with confusion and concern. You wanted to get away, get Kabukimono away from this horrors. Turning sharp to the corner, a sharp breath caught to your throat—as if you have forgotten how to breathe. What did you see?

Someone, you tried to push Kabukimono away from the scene—trying to turn his back away but it was too late, he had already witness a horrifying scene that will haunt him every night.

A village person, dead, on the ground. Their eyes were bloodshot as if they are shredding blood as their tears. Crimson blood dripping down from their forehead as they lie lifeless to the ground—their head to the side as if they’re staring at the both of you, as if they’re saying, you’re next.

You and Kabuki were hiding behind your small house, having the shadow covers up the two of you, to not be revealed by some monster, or rather. A unwelcomed guest in the village, who has come bring chaos and bloodshed within the village, your home.

You turn to Kabuki, he was confuse—he does not know why there’s crimson in that persons head, dripping down as they lie lifeless in the ground with their own pool of blood, you palm his cheeks, forcing a smile as you tried to steal his gaze away from such horrifying scene.

“Kabuki, dear, listen. I want you to do something for me, hm?” you try to remain calm, not wanting to scare the boy who has his gaze on you. His brows knitted together in worry, his eyes visibly scared on what he had witness. You grab a hold of his forearm as you got on one knee to kneel down, your eye to his, “Everything’s going to be fine, I want you to run and get help.” You kiss his forehead.

“what about you?”

“I’ll buy you time, I can fight after all.”

“You’re still not in good condition.”

“I know,” you smiled and stood up—cupping his cheek as you pull him in an embrace, “But I’ll be fine, now go.”

He nodded but his eyes darted to another person that’s been getting chase down, sword pierce right through them as a bloody scream escape from their mouth, coughing blood as the sword was retrieve—leaving that person in their own pool of blood.

He could only close his eyes and tighten his arms around your embrace, he wants to cry, to yell, but he needed to do what you said, get help. He thought of coming to the shogun and ask them for help.

Pulling away as he ran from the opposite direction, those “guest” noticed the boy as they try to come after him, you block their direction as you pulled out your bow—merging your element to form an attack. Buying Kabukimono some time to run.

He saw you fight one on one or more, you were going on defense more than offence, his can feel his skin shudder and his heart and mind race with worry. He wants to help you, but he needs to get help.

Kabuki ran, he ran as tears were filling up his vision and try to get help—but his mind wanders back to you, what if you get hurt? What if something worse happens to you?

These thoughts what made Kabuki stop his tracks, would he want to go back and ignore your favor don‘t get you out of there, he wants you to run away with him.

And so, he ran back. And the moment he did, he witness something that terrified him most.

“Mother..?” he called out, his eyes wide and his brows knitted with worry as tears were starting to form in his eyes. You rest your back against the tree as you sat with your own pool of blood, breathing heavily and your eyes heavy.

He ran towards you, tears rolling down his cheeks as he held you by his arm—cradling you like how you cradle him, he inspect your injury, your right hand covering your stomach to the side, trying your best to stop the bleeding.

Your half-lidded eyes darted to his worried and scared gaze, you could only smile and took your right hand off of your bleeding figure and use it to cup his face, staining him with your warm blood.

“There you are.” You manage to utter weakly, trying to manage that lovely tone that he loves so much. “It’s ok, I’m still alive.” You assured, wiping a tear off of his cheek using your thumb. You took something off of your shoulder, your vision then a paper, probably a letter. “Have this, open the letter when the time comes.”

Time? What time? He could only ask himself in his mind, what can he do to help you? He felt so low.. so vulnerable and helpless, as if he failed serving and following you, help. “H-Help..” he manage to voice out, “I n-need to get you help.” He says and kneel as he tries his hardest to get you on his back, but you didn’t budge.

“It’s ok… It’s just a small wound..” Small? It can’t be that small when you’re losing too much blood and when you’re desperate trying to get air as you were breathing heavily, “you were the best thing that has ever happen to me, Kabuki.”

He could only weep, bury his head against your neck. Trying his best not to cry out loud, you patted his shoulder in a weak manner—as if you’re slowly losing energy. He noticed that the light of your vision is slowly fading, but he pay no mind as he’s only focus on you and you alone.

Tears keeps coming as they slide down from his cheeks then drop to your cheeks, your thumb always wiping them off as his glassy eyes stared to yours—you were wasting your last energy talking to him and wiping off his tears and telling something humorous, to make him laugh right? You could hear him make a few slight chuckles in between his silent sobs.

He has you in his back, carrying you all the way to get help to the shogun herself—telling him sweet nothings as he communicates with you, thinking it’d be a good idea to keep the conversation to keep you entertained and alive. Help is on the way.

“W-We’re here!” he exclaimed, his legs almost going to give out on how much items you carry within your attire, “h-hey..” he called and nudges you lightly, to his horrors. You weren’t responding. He gently lay you down to the ground and held you in an embrace, tapping your cheeks and shaking you gently, “M-Mom..?” His heart dropping, his eyes widening and his breathing becomes rapid.

“H-Help..” he choke on his words, he screams for help—grabbing people’s attention to him as they saw the poor frightened boy covered with your dried blood—messing up his kariginu robe, along with his lavender veil as tears fails to form in his eyes, seeing that you are now lifeless in his arms and now that your vision is no longer glowing, no more life.

Time slows down, as if people are moving slowly around him—sounds of panic and urgency became a muffle as his own ears ring and his breathing rigged. He could only hold on tightly to the vision that has lost its light, as it felt like it died with you.

With you gone, he doesn’t know what to do—what task he’ll help with or errand to run. With the village turns to a bloody ruin, an unwanted war brought to the peaceful environment. He found himself in front of your bed. Where you and him cuddle to sleep, where you tell him little stories to help the two of you to fall asleep

“Gone.” He mutter, his tone flat as he’s tired. So, so tired. He misses your touch and warmth, your voice and your lovely smile that greets him every time he ran home after finishing an errand. He missed your presence, so much.

Your scarf around his neck, sniffing your scent in it—if there are still that remains. He crawls in bed, hugging his knees together as he look at the bedside table, a picture frame of you and him; smiling. Finally, he finally shred one last tear, as he hug himself to sleep. He imagines that you are here with him, in bed. Cooing him, soothing him, assuring him, that everything will be alright. He imagine that you were humming him to sleep or telling him folktales, how your hand on his back as you caress him to sleep.

But now? He’s alone, your poor Kabukimono, hugging himself to sleep as he pretends you are still with him. Silent sobs escapes from him as he falls from a deep slumber.

And thus, how his life began, or how his life began to be a living hell. To be an experiment.

დ➳დ➳დ↴

Five-hundred years, it has been that long. For him, and that’s how long you have been dead.

The poor boy has been through so, so much… Pain, misery, despair, loneliness, betrayals, and how he witness humans and his surroundings evolve to something new every year.

He became an experiment to The Doctor, a fatui harbinger, and needless to say that he had gone through many names.

Kabukimono, the boy who you once adored. A naïve and helpful child that who is willing to do anything that you ask.

Kuronoshi, then Kunikuzushi—where he starts his vengeance where he was betrayed three times and saw the ugliness of human society, yet he desire to be one of them. But, in this case, he doesn’t know whether to take your ‘death’ as a betrayal, as in every era he pass through—he would always thought of you.

Then comes The Balladeer, or Scaramouche per say. He became a fatui, he became a cruel and cunning harbinger—the boy who you couldn’t even recognize anymore, as he was experimented many times to the promise of the divine power, that made him lose himself in sole way. But he only desire a heart of his own, if only he wasn’t a puppet.

Shouki no Kami, who he has been use as the subject and has the power to rival Teyvat’s gods, and is known to be an artificial divinity, but alas, he was defeated by the Goddess of wisdom—Nahida, due to the loop she did to defeat him. But he soon enough when he gain consciousness after his coma, he agreed on helping Nahida to some way in Irminsul—thus him removing his past to the world.

But at some point, he never did erase the him you met in the past first five-hundred years, he only kept Kabukimono in Irminsul. As if, his own mind couldn’t erase you. He wanted to hate you despise you and curse you for leaving him. But he didn’t understand the concept of death, he didn’t understand.

All he knew, is that… you were a wonderful experience…

In which now, he became ‘Wanderer’ that the people in Akademya and the traveler knew now.

დ➳დ➳დ↴

His arms crossed and his eyes close as he rest his back against the wall, feeling the cool wind hit him. A flying companion and blonde traveler approach the boy who seems to relax on his own, “Teyvat to wanderer!” the flying ‘thing’ spoke to catch the boys attention, “what now?” the boy sigh and turn to the blonde traveler. His peace of mind was disturb by a certain someone, he was busy—busy reminiscing the past.

“Oh.. So you’re heading to Fontaine next?” Wanderer raised his eyebrow, arms still cross against his chest as he spoke in a surprise tone. The flying ‘thing’ nodded, who’s name is Paimon, “uh-huh! Nahida says we should take you with us.” The traveler nod and smile, “she says you need some time off and come with us to enjoy Fontaine.”

He could only stare down to his anemo vision and fix his hat as a sigh escapes from his lips, “fine, I’ll come.” He agreed and gave a faint smile, “lead the way, traveler and Paimon.”

“Safe travels for the three of you, and keep an eye on Wanderer.” Nahida remarks with a giggle, “It’s not like I’m going to commit a crime or something.” Wanderer replied, the Goddess of wisdom only giggled and bid both Wanderer and traveler goodbye and wish them well for their travel to Fontaine.

The ride was quiet, his attention was at the sea where the view was just water. No mountains or such, as Paimon and traveler held conversation. His mind wanders back to you, always has been. He looks down at his vision yet again, palming it to his two hands and caressing the thick glass as it glows. He remembers how much you love the wind—how the cool breeze hits your skin and messing your hair, how refreshing it feels and more.

He remembered when you told him that you wish to have that kind of vision, but you were given an electro one. But it’s been five hundred years, that moment had pass and if he could, he would do anything to bring you back. If he had the power, he would demand even the Celestia to give you back to him. He miss you, it hurts him to admit it.

“Uh, hey Wanderer?” Paimon called out, still floating as ever even in the boat. He let out a small hum to answer Paimon’s call, “me and traveler thought that you’re too quietly, is something wrong?” a hint of concern in Paimons voice, he shakes his head and sigh. “It’s nothing,” he says, as he looks at the two then back to his vision, “I just miss someone that’s dear to me, that’s all.” He mumbled and put his vision back to his shoulder—where you too, used to put your vision from five hundred years ago…

“Huh?” Paimon puts her finger to her chin, trying to make out what the boy just said, “Oh!” Paimon nodded, “I get it! You miss someone you know that they hold dear to you,” the boy could only hum in response as the boat still sails towards their destination, “So uh,” Paimon turn to traveler then back to him, “Who’s this person?” she finally asked.

Before he could response, he says, “Oh look, we’re here.” He got up from the boat and look up to the view of Fontaine. Paimon groans and whines at the traveler for Wanderer not answering her question. The people of Fontaine are… unique as they have a modern like and advance technologies unlike other regions, this piqued his interest, but then again—stepping foot here felt like he will wish he did not come here or he was glad he step foot here.

Wanderer felt a sudden of uneasiness as he close his eyes and folds his arms to his chest, “Huh? What’chu standing around for?” Paimon asked, “It’s nothing, I just felt something heavy—like a sudden of uneasiness.” Wanderer turned to them, “It’s just probably nothing.” He gave a shrug and Paimon nodded, how her brows knitted together either a sense of worry or confusion.

“You say you two looking for the Hydro archon?” The boy asked and both traveler and their flying companion nodded, “I feel like you’re in luck, looks like the Hydro archon came looking for you two.” People came bustling and gathering, this is going to be interesting.

დ➳დ➳დ↴

The following days has been… well, a roller-coaster ride, I suppose. It was one hell that the Hydro archon that goes by the name Furina. Lady Furina; which how her people address her, Wanderer was both surprised and shocked when that blonde traveler wanted to duel that god. You couldn’t even imagine how he noticed that the god was shocked and terrified.

He spent most of his time walking behind the big shots: Paimon and the blonde traveler, after all—these two has been awfully graced by the hydro archon herself, which makes them more and more of a celebrity if the archon themselves shows up for them.

But every walk, every click of his shoe, his mind still wanders—how he kept having this feeling, as if he was searching for something but couldn’t point it out, causing him to bump into Paimon and Traveler. “Heeey!” Paimon crossed her arms and turn to the seemingly-lost-in-his-own-thoughts-Wanderer, “Apologies.” He said, putting his hand onto his chest to show that he didn’t mean to and that he’s sincere.

Paimon huffs and puts her hand to her hips, “What has gotten into you, Wanderer?” she asked, Wanderer gave a few good pause before answering. “It’s nothing, I just got this feeling that I’m connected with someone here in Fontaine.” He sigh and turn his head to look at the signs of different shops.

“Oh? That’s weird. You’ve never been to Fontaine before, right?” Wanderer nodded to Paimons remark, “That was what I find odd too.” Wanderer express, his brows knitted—showing either he’s troubled or frustrated.

“Ooh! By the way, you forgot to answer my question!”

“What question?” Wanderer raised an eyebrow, silence filled the air as he made an ‘oh’ expression, “That question.” He said and nodded, “well, it wouldn’t hurt telling a little since it’s been five-hundred years.”

“There was this girl, she was like uh…” he cleared his throat first, folding his arms to his chest, “She was my mother, who treated me as her own.”

“Mom? Like your creator or something?” Said by confused Paimon, her eyes squinting as she looks at her blonde companion: the traveler. Wanderer shakes his head as a faint smile tug from the corner of his lips, “No, you misunderstood.”

“But, you say ‘mom’ then I thought you are calling your creator as your mother. Didn’t the Raiden Shogun created you… No, no. Raiden Ei, I believe.”

“You’re right, Ei created me.” He emphasized his creators name, “But you are still wrong,” both of his hand fell from his sides and shrugs, “Ei created me, I have every right to call her my mom. But she’s not my mom.” This causes Paimon to not understand more of it.

“Ei didn’t treat me as her own, abandoned me and left me to rot.” He pauses, then continues, “While my ‘mom’, the one whom took care of me and took me as her own is my ‘mom.’ Do you get my point now?” The boy tried his hardest to explain.

“She was human, you’d be surprise—of course, since the one who I call my own mother is a human while I’m a puppet.”

“it was indeed shocking that a human took you in, not to mention you call her your mom too.”

“Her name is y/n… Pretty name, yeah?” He chuckle, his brows knitted together as he recall the past, “She was a stubborn fool, always acting out before thinking.” He sighs, “But if it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t become what I am now. Probably going to continue as a harbinger or a test subject.”

He looks at the blonde traveler, “And if it weren’t for you nor Buer, I wouldn’t realize that what I was in the past—she would probably be in shock.”

“why?”

“Because her precious Kabuki faded away, she wouldn’t recognize me no more.”

“aww.. Then what happened to her..?”

Sharing isn’t his best forte nor expressing something so deep to someone, it just hurts.. You know? The boy who longed for a mother and feel her love suddenly disappear right before his eyes as he watch you use your last breath. Your last breath where you did not regret wasting it upon him.

And so, the three sat by the nearest bench. He recall and tell the traumatic tale from five-hundred years ago.. How you two met, how it was going—how the your stories progress to a loving mother-son trope. Then, how he lost you..

As he tell his story, he couldn’t shred a tear. Maybe it’s because he’s now immune to the heartbreak and pain? Or maybe there’s no longer tears to shred?

დ➳დ➳დ↴

Time passed, his face remains with that same expression ever since he started telling his sob tale. The traveler could only nod through the whole story, while Paimon cried and sob against the traveler’s shoulder.

3:00 pm.

Checking the time, he lifts his head up to look at the blue sky. The air picking up as he turns his gaze to the two companions, he spoke, “shouldn’t you both better be on your way?”

Paimon weeps, brushing her tears away with the back of her small little hands, “T-That’s so s-sad..” she sniffle, “She’s so nice and.. and..” the next sentence came out gibberish and Wanderer, the blonde traveler—couldn’t make sense of what this flying companion is saying.

He rolled his eyes and breath in, inhaling the air of Fontaine… or it’s just sweets that he smells? Oh, he hates sweets.

He used to love them, with you making them for him. He used to eat all the desserts you make just for him, and he will gladly share and eat them with you in the same table—in the same roof, where he used to call home.

It took some time to have Paimon come down from her overwhelming emotional burst from the boys story. “Didn’t we have some business with the shopkeeper?” Paimon turn to the blonde traveler in which the traveler nodded, the two stood up and asked him if he could join them, extra company wouldn’t hurt.

“oh? You want me to come?” Wanderer asked as he stands up from his seat, brushes the fabric of his shoulder and folded his arms. The two companions nodded with a smile, “It’s best to keep your mind off of a bit, a distraction from your thoughts… Maybe?” Paimon says.

Wanderer chuckle and returns the smile, “If you insist, then sure.”

The walk was nice, it did keep his mind off a bit from his thoughts and this memories because Paimon can’t keep her mouth shut, he only replies with a simple nod, shake, a simple hum and ‘ok’ to her as they finally arrive at the shop they’re suppose to have business with.

“An antique shop..?” Wanderer tilts his head, Paimon nodded and hum, “yup! We were gonna pick something up for monsieur Neuvillette.”

“The chief justice of Fontaine?”

“Yup, he’s the one.”

Slowly nodding to what Paimon said, the three step inside the antique shop.

Your antique shop.

დ➳დ➳დ↴

A familiar voice was heard when they entered the shop, the insides were well-maintained and cleaned. The aroma was sweetly refreshing, and the moment he laid his eyes upon the shopkeeper, he was confuse, surprised, and other emotions that he couldn’t explain—it was overwhelming.

“Hello! Welcome to y/n antiques, feel free to look around.” Your voice, that sweet melodic voice that used to sing for him—that used to look out for him and call him. He couldn’t believe it…

A vision? Anemo, probably a catalyst wielder and an antique owner.. You were alive, much healthier, not ill, full of energy and your voice filling the room of the shop.

“M… M-Ma…?”

“huh?” Paimon looks at the boy, whose face was troubled, full of question and doubt. “Are you alright, Wanderer?”

“I’m fine.” He cleared his throat and looked at the ground, shifting his weight and height to distract himself for a bit. Paimon nods and pay no mind to his troubled thoughts, “Uh, we’re here to pick something up for monsieur Neuvillette.”

“ah! I see, please give me a second,” you spoke with a delight tone and got under the desk to reach out to something.

How..? He thought, looking at you while getting the thing that Neuvillette asked for to the traveler and Paimon, neatly knotting a ribbon beautifully and giving it to the two.

Spending his days from the Akademiya, he know something about this… ‘reincarnation’ something about that, but.. How? He keeps questioning himself, after all these years you’ve come back, alive and well and living the life you dreamed of since the past.

He wanted to hug you, the urge too powerful but he remains in his position—not wanting to scare you, well, since… you don’t remember him. That’s reincarnation, sometimes.. Probably.

“…derer… anderer.. Wanderer..!”

A voice calling out to him when he daze out, finally snapping back to reality, “hm?” he hums a response, “you seem out of it, we got what we needed..” Paimon showed the neatly beautiful ribbon box to Wanderer, “Let’s go! We still have to show you around in the opera house and meeting the chief justice.”

Wanderer blinked and shakes his head, “.. no.. I’ll stay here.. You go.” He said unexpectedly, “you sure?” Wanderer was sure all right, Paimon nodded and sigh, “all right then, meet you later!” And so, the two companion waved and bid farewell to the boy.

“Oh! You’re still here, sir?” you chuckle, “how can I help you?”

“Nothing,” Wanderer replied, “o-oh..!” you smiled and dust off the old book on your hand, his eyes scanned the whole shop and sees that most antiques aren’t properly cleaned yet and some old tale books aren’t in their proper position yet.

It gave him an idea, an idea to get closer with you again, to feel you again. Starting from square one, as if—the universe gave him a chance to be with you again.

“It looks like you’re the one who needed help, miss..” he almost said your name, “y/n, I believe I already introduced myself, but it’s y/n. You are?”

His breath hitches and has this hopeful spark in his eyes, “… Wanderer… Nice to meet you.. y/n.”

დ➳დ➳დ↴

He loves you dearly, still sees you the same as ever. If meeting you like this even after a hundred or thousand of years passes, he wouldn’t mind meeting you over and over and over again. He’ll do anything to be with you, you bring him solace, a safe space and a comforting presence and home.

You only met him the first time here in Fontaine, but for him—he wouldn’t mind meeting you again and again, reincarnation or something. He’s glad he found you, and you found him unintentionally.

No, you don’t know this boy. But somehow felt a connection, as if. You already knew him from your past. As if, he was that little pup in your dreams when you woke up from your deep state of a dream.

He wouldn’t lose you again, no. He’d do anything to protect you like how you have protected him from that village attack. He’s… forever grateful, you haven’t changed much and he… misses you.

A part of him felt complete, like a beautiful tone was complete and the melodies you once sang now carries a different resonance and the past of your last life now fading off of his mind.

And if the prophecy were to be true, he'd watch this nation fall and save you, not wanting to see you die again before his eyes—not wanting to be left again and feel the ache of his... heart. For you, he will choose you over this falling nation.

Now, you’re with him. And he’s with you.

Side by side, capturing every moment with you.

If in the past, he was your wonderful experience and you were.. his everything.

#genshin impact #kabukimono #kunikuzushi #scaramouche fanfic #scaramouche #genshin scara #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #wanderer #genshin angst #scara fluff #kabukimono fluff #wanderer fluff #kunikuzushi fluff

91 notes · View notes

tenshinokorin · 9 months

Text

TnK's Trigun Fic Listing

Ok now that I've got 15 fics out for Trigun (so far) and at least a couple of those are upwards of 20K and some of them are sequels and followups and ongoing, I thought maybe I should do a proper list of things, to make it easier for people who want to read in some kind of order. I'm terrible about talking up my own work but this is also for my own reference so that's fine, right? ^^; All fics are Vashwood-centric (I will get to Nai in a minute I have a backlog) and ratings vary from Gen to Explicit, though all are intended for an adult audience. This list is complete as of September '23, I will update it periodically as needed!

NB: I'm lucky enough to have gotten fanart for some of these and sometime when my head is not full of mud I'll go in and add links to those where I can. (Or please drop a link in the replies if you are one of the wonderful artists in question!)

THE BIG THREE STORYLINES:

Someday Out of the Blue & I Believe in the Kingdom Come

Trigun '98 canon. Reincarnation fic. The first one is a story I started writing over 20 years ago and quit after a chapter because I was just too heartbroken (and did not know it, but was also too young). Picked it up and finished it this April (2023) after Stampede clobbered me and I fell off the "we don't talk about wolfwood" wagon. The second story is a direct sequel to tie up some loose ends from the first one, and also to indulge my need for a proper happy ending. (I think a lot of folks don't realize Someday has a sequel but it does!!)

Black is the Color and Mysterious Ways

Trimax Canon. Resurrection/Fix-it/Angstmance with a much shorter, sillier, smuttier epilogue. Three years after the end of Trigun Maximum, Vash is having some trouble laying his ghosts to rest. (You may have seen this incredible artwork which has gotten around a bit and boosts the story better than any summary of mine possibly could.) Weird things happened when I was writing this, I don't mind telling you. Mysterious Ways was mostly an excuse to explore some of the more interesting concepts brought up by the first one, but saying anything more would be spoilery.

Eyes of the Storm

(Mostly) Trimax canon. Cryptid Vash AU, slowburn romance, ongoing. When Nicholas D. Wolfwood gets roped into being the new caretaker for the now-abandoned orphanage where he spent his childhood, he soon finds out that his own hidden memories are not the only thing haunting him. (What the fuck is a Typhoon?) Wolfwood, Vash, Livio, Elendira, et al. This is the one currently in progress at six chapters out of ??. Pretty SFW so far BUT NOT FOR MUCH LONGER CAVEAT LECTOR.

List continues with standalone and shorter fics below the cut!

Honeymoon

Generic Trimax/98 setting. Plant Heat, Wingfic, Tentacle Fic, What the fuck is Hay Fever. Wolfwood offers to help Vash out with a personal problem and gets a little more than he bargained for.

Strange Powers

Generic Trimax/98 setting, comedy/smut/potato jokes/fisting with a loaded prosthetic. What if Vash and Wolfwood (accidentally) got really, really hella high?

Hurricane

Trigun '98 Canon.

Vash: Make money? As a priest?

WW: Well. *mysteriously* Not only that.

Vash: (oh my gosh he's a prostitute)

Shortfic. Wolfwood tries to figure out how to offer his services to someone he doesn't really want to be a paying customer. Short and smutty while also demolishing Wolfwood's professional boundaries.

Skin Tight

Generic Trimax/98 setting. The Infamous Red Dress. PWP, Wolfwood needs to be in the Vash Sensory Deprivation Tank, Vash in high heels, the dress gave its life for this fic you should read it and honor its sacrifice. Look. This is just porn, guys. You want the porny fic? This is the porny fic. (just kidding most of them are porny fics but this one is especially so.)

Secondhand Secrets

Generic Trimax/98 setting. Introspective/Vignette/Wolfwood POV. Vash's artificial arm always moves in his sleep, and Wolfwood wonders what he's looking for.

Personal Jesus

Badlands Rumble canon (post-film), Wolfwood has poor emotional coping strategies, hurt/comfort (Wolfwood provides both), first-time. That red hotel minifridge never stood a chance.

A Fool From Any Direction

Trigun '98 Vash's weird horny schtick is a front, and self-respect doesn't save lives. Which is too bad because when Wolfwood finds out what Vash is planning next he's gonna kill him.

Benediction

Trimax but could also be '98; Sometimes being a hero is not all it's cracked up to be. Or maybe Vash is the one cracking up. Hurt/Comfort, Wound Care & Bible Quotes, Noman's Land is a bitch of a planet. Shortfic, feels, non-explicit/no sex.

A Bit of a Tight Spot

Generic Trimax/98 setting. Costume Porn, PWP, No corsets were harmed in the making of this fic. I feel like this one gets missed a lot which is MADDENING because you guys. WOLFWOOD'S DOUBLE Ds IN A CORSET. And like, in a gender euphoria way, not in a comedy drag kind of way (though comedy drag does make a small appearance). I don't know how the good minister tightlaced in cuban stockings while giving Vash a blowjob in front of a mirror in the attic of a whorehouse can get so often overlooked, maybe my title or summary is lacking, but it's one of the hottest things I've ever written and its engagement is just in the basement? When (emphatic baffled hand motions to Nicholas D. Wolfwood wearing a garter like a thigh-holster). Anyway.

The Quick and the Bed

Trigun '98 Comedy, Romance, First Time. The single bed trope. Drunk Idiocy. Wolfwood's vows are in serious danger. (Wolfwood does not have vows.) Readers have let me know that they find this one amusing. Roommates of readers have sent me threats of bodily harm due to badly-stifled hysterical laughter at 3am.

THAT'S ALL FOR NOW MORE STORIES WILL BE ADDED AS THEY OCCUR!

SMALL DISCLAIMER: I'm a full-time working writer and my fanfic is something I give away for free out of love. Please don't copy, alter, plagiarize, feed to AI in any form, fold, spindle, or mutilate. I'm not in the market for concrit, but if you like my stories please feel free to leave me a comment/kudo, download/print/fanbind for personal use, or let other readers know!

#trigun #vashwood #trigun fanfic #tnk fic #trigun '98 #trigun maximum #trigun stampede

167 notes · View notes

niftukkun · 1 year

Text

New from RECAP Weekly!!! An Exclusive Interview from Hermitopia's Emperor?!?

for the third week of @shepscapades ’s hermitcraft character design event, i offer grian as an empires smp member!

ok so first off, that head. thats just p03 from inscryption. but grian. it fits! but also! go play inscryption go go its on sale Right Now (until june 30) go play it its so good then go watch this video afterwards join my fandom please please please join us

ok back to hermpires! so i originally was gonna take an empire from s2 and just insert grian into it, but while browsing through the esmp s2 wiki i came across/remembered hermitopia and my brain went yep! this one. so i thought a bit about what grian would do if he was an empires smp member and how hermitopia would happen, and i think grian would crash the economy on purpose. i mean it almost already happened when the hermitpires crossover happened so i dont think im too far off. i think grian originally exported something simple, like maybe sugarcanes or mud, something easy to farm yknow, but then i dunno got bored or something so he made a couple more farms. then kept making more farms. then the hermitopia we all know and love happened!

actually maybe hermitopia isnt grians first empire. i think grian has a separate empire but decided to invite his friends to help him make some farms and then it just kept going. then hermitopia happened. i like the collaboration aspect of hermitopia so i think thats how that happens. hermitopia isnt necessarily grian's but its under his command so it gets called his. (isnt there a word for this? was it vassalage? i think its vassalage)

with that in mind i went with a robot-y grian because grumbot and a snazzy cool suit because business man (sidenote im looking over my pre art notes and one of them is just capitalism man and. yeah! not wrong). i gave him more steampunk-y wings than the usual feathery ones cause that fit better. i gave him a crown not really sure why but it fits since without it the design was more Just A Guy but with it he's more Emperor yknow. the buttons have a g on it because he would and an (attempted) gold trim cause that looked nice and fancy. originally he was gonna have four wings cause fun fact four wings is part of my base grian design but four wings kind of crowded the drawing so i didnt include them (sad) and i also didnt include the tail hes supposed to have because i couldnt find a good way to add it in with the pose. but in my heart he has both four wings and a tail

now why magazine style artwork? i 'unno. i thought itd look cool. and it does!! it looks SO cool!!! im so proud of it. recap magazine!! because of course im gonna make a hermitcraft recap reference are you kidding me recap is practically already a magazine reporting what gossip is happening on the hermitcraft server on any given week. its very specifically volume 9 issue 34 because thats when the crossover happened season 9 week 34 babey we love little esoteric details hell yeah!! i looked up how magazine covers work and its supposed to be like, main article big and smaller supporting side articles just kinda floating around so i did that!! and i made them funney references because of course i did! local bard catches scurvy because you cannot convince me that oli orionsound would not catch scurvy he would. does god is gay is a reference to that does bruno mars is gay nonsense article that makes me laugh everytime specifically in reference about mr smallish bean because he. has so many children. and none of them as far as i know from the lady server members theyre all lovechilds from gay lovers its hysterical and hilarious. quit your job join our sun cult is about the dawn empire because thatse the vibe that empire gives me and i think its funny. also!! thats hermitopia!! in the background!! i got the image off of the empires smp wiki and just Biggen'd it and it makes a bomb ass background hell yeah ^-^!!

also version with no text here lookit it!!

#gamble the queue #reblog #art #my art #digital art #artists on tumblr #drawing #fan art #fanart #hermitcraft #grian hermitcraft #hermitcraft recap #empires smp #hermitcraft empires crossover #fake magazine cover #shepshermitdesign23

249 notes · View notes

chimchiri · 10 months

Text

Poll Adventure: Rarijack Dinner

Index | [prev] - Part 02 - [next] Special thanks to @babydarkstar for major support with the writing

Previous Poll:

-----

Minutes pass and Applejack still has no idea what to say. She’s drafted a few starters, but none of them feel right, or even like something a normal person would say to initiate conversation.

[You. Me. Saturday. Dinner?-] Delete, delete, delete… [Hey Rarity, do you have any pla-] Delete, delete, delete… [So Big Mac’s plannin to smoke some BBQ this weeken-] Delete, delete, DELETE.

Frustration builds—right in her chest all the way up to her ears. She can’t find the right words, and she’s usually so good at that—in her own way.

This should be easy! It’s not a profession of undying love.

Yet progress is a stick in the mud when it comes to her feelings for Rarity.

The legs of the chair squeak across the worn hardwood as AJ gets up and starts pacing around the kitchen, talking to herself. She takes her hat off, ruffs her fingers through her bangs, puts her hat back, runs a hand down her face. A huge, frustrated sigh escapes her when she throws her hands up.

“It’s Rarity. How goddamn hard can it be to ask her for somethin’?!”

That’s it.

Tired of her own inaction, she slams her thumb on the call button.

Ring…

…ring…

With each ring the reality of her actions washes over her, and by the third ring she is fully aware of what she’s about to do. Her frustration morphs into panic and doubt, soaking her in dread.

Is she actually doing this? Like…following through instead of letting her ideas fizzle out?

This is happening, the phone is ringing, it’s sending the signal to Rarity’s device and she’s gonna grab it and answer and—

No, it’s too soon, they’ve only known each other for forever—

Before she can cancel the call, she hears a click—

“Applejack, darling!”

AJ’s gut leaps at the sound of that silky voice, clear elation in its tone and excitement at the chance to answer her call.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

AJ can feel her heart pounding up to her throat. Why is her mouth so dry all of a sudden?

“Uhhh…howdy.”

Not her brightest greeting, but this isn’t the first time she’s acted without thinking it through. She doesn’t even know where to start.

The weight of reality makes her feel awkward, like a bull in a china shop. Too big for her britches indeed.

Silence rings in her ears.

Why is she freezing up at a time like this?

“Applejack…? Are you still there?” chimes Rarity on the other line, but she might as well be talking to a brick wall.

It takes a few seconds of blank thought before AJ realizes it’s her turn to speak.

“Agh! Sorry, I just—I thought I’d give you a call. See how you’re doing…make sure you—and the business o’course—make sure it’s goin’ ok and whatnot.”

She wants to smack herself upside the head.

The business?

If she could go dig a hole outside and lay in it while the seasons change, she would; but she’s got a family to take care of and a farm to run. Surely this isn’t the worst moment of her life. Surely. But she doesn’t need to see Rarity’s face to feel the effect of her clunky greeting.

This is not like her. This is getting worse by the second, she doesn’t have a clue what to say, and she’s kicking herself for even calling.

Why can’t she have even an ounce of the romantic charm that her parents had? Why is she so bad at flirting, especially when it comes to Rarity? When she tries to be intentional, it’s like she doesn’t know up from down; she stutters and fumbles like a bumbling buffoon. All this romance stuff seems so easy when she doesn’t care.

After a moment she hears Rarity give a little laugh, a sound like a sparkling stream running through fields of green. It makes AJ’s knees weak, a one-two punch to her joints. Elegance, grace, poise. When Rarity laughs, it’s flower petals dancing in the breeze; it’s birds chirping after a summer rain; it’s the shimmer of quartz shining in a dusty path.

“Oh, I’m spectacular, darling. Just putting the final touches on some designs for next month. I’m confident about my next line, but as always—I have too many ideas. You know me.”

AJ grins at that. “Yeah, I do. Knowin’ you, you’ve got at least a dozen too many.”

The chaotic, unrelenting artist inside Rarity used to annoy the hell outta AJ when they first met. Now she can’t help but find it endearing.

“Quiet, you,” Rarity says coyly, and AJ can hear the smile in her voice before she switches the topic, “How’ve you been, darling? You sound positively stressed.”

There it is again. The feeling of her nerves tying themselves to knots.

“I…uh…I’m doin’ fine. I just-”

“Is everything alright, dear? Anything I can do? I’m glad to offer my assistance—though nothing that could ruin my manicure; I just got a fresh coat. It’s a new formula…supposed to be hard as diamonds. Of course, I don’t believe such ridiculous claims until I try it myself…though I’d hate to push them too hard after I just had them done—Oh, but darling, please. Do tell me if everything is okay with you…?” Despite her rambling, Rarity sounds concerned. Great. And normally AJ would roll her eyes at the manicure excuse, but her nerves are shot, and that’s NOT what this is about.

“No! I mean—yes…I’m alright. Just—you know how it is. Farm and all. Exhausted,” AJ tries to give a lame excuse, though she can hear her voice break in between, and prays Rarity won’t notice. She clears her throat.

With the way it’s pounding between her own ears, AJ’s sure everyone and their mother can hear her heart beating in her chest, running like a wild horse. But that’s just what Rarity does to her.

“Oh, I do know, darling. Work can be a chore, especially for you. Ooh, we should go to the spa—it has been far too long since you spent a day pampering yourself! They have a new treatment that I just know you’ll love...”

“Yeah…yeah, that sounds nice,” AJ says distractedly, chewing on her thumb as Rarity raves about the newest spa services.

She’s blowing it.

She’s. Blowing. It.

Partly because now, she’s thinking about all that beautiful, smooth, creamy skin put on display next to her at the spa, all while she tries not to stare too much or say something stupid. It’s hard for AJ to admit to herself that part of the reason she finally took Rarity’s initial offer of a spa day was because of the promise of seeing her in way less clothing than usual. She got used to it eventually, but—did she really? Is it ever boring to see Rarity, in all her grace and glory, wrapped in nothing more than a towel? She’s all soft curves, and smooth skin, and pretty hair piled up on her head and held together with a big clip. With her hair up like that, it’s easier to see the cute little mole on the curve of her neck, one she probably forgets she even has. If AJ could, she’d lean over and press a kiss right there, feel her tremble under her lips—

“…but Applejack, really—are you alright? You don’t sound a bit like your usual sunny self.”

Fuck. Okay. Moment of truth. C’mon AJ. Stop stalling. Stop fantasizing when you could have it for real.

“Rarity, I’m callin’ ‘cause I—…well, I—“

AJ could ask her for a date, plain and simple. Which would almost surely be a confession. Something about dressing nice and holding doors (which she does anyways). It’s the most unambiguous choice for sure, but…is that what she wants? She’s never been in this situation before, wanting to change the dynamic between her and a close friend to something closer to the heart. She values her dynamic with Rarity, whether it’s romantic or not.

AJ could also just ask if Rarity wants to have dinner, no mention of a date in sight. There’s no obligation there, no real pressure to “get it right.” She knows she’s playing it safe this way, but maybe she should test the waters and make sure she doesn’t completely ruin her friendship with Rarity by confessing right away.

Either way, this means too much for her to blow it off again. She has to decide now.

Tag List: @mrrrpmeow @babydarkstar

#AJ nonstop blushing in the images #this is AJs blushing arc #poll adventure: rarijack dinner #polls #rarijack #applejack #rarity #mlp #my art

164 notes · View notes

seresinhangmanjake · 1 year

Text

Signed Away: Epilogue

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Fem!Reader Series

Summary: You find out about the contractual marriage your parents arranged with Jake’s when you were a baby. You’re plently angered by it, but Jake doesn’t seem too bothered. He might even be happy.

Notes/Warnings: smut-ish 18+, cursing, pregnancy.

Thank you to everyone who read, liked, reblogged, or commented on any part of this story. I very much appreciate it, and I’m glad this was something people could enjoy and wanted to stick around for :)

Masterlist

Words: 3659

-----

“Jakey Seresin!”

You plopped down on your knees in the patchy wet grass, dirty droplets soaking into the fabric of your flowery dress and ruining the cream-colored tights covering your legs.

He heard you but didn’t stop molding the straight, raised path of solid mud in front of him, a couple feet long, smooth on top, and about five inches in width. You watched his mud-caked fingers work, tilting your head like a puppy searching for understanding. With a twig he drew a careful line down the center of his creation, then he tossed the stick aside and stretched an arm high so the toy airplane he held could soar above both of your heads.

"I wanna marry you," you said when he still hadn't acknowledged you.

Jake’s eyes followed the plane, but his nose wrinkled in disgust. “No way. I’m never getting married.”

“Why?” you whined, bottom lip protruding in a pout.

“Because girls are yucky,” he said.

The plane circled the space between you then went in for the landing. His thumb flicked a tiny piece of plastic on the toy and small wheels shot out from the belly of the plane.

“I’m not yucky!”

He paused, looked at you with a huff, and dropped the vehicle in his lap. “Sure, you are,” he teased. He pinched your cheek and pulled, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to give new shape to your face. “And you’re just a little baby.”

“I am not!” You tried to speak with determination, but the awkward elongation of your mouth from his tugging fingers made the words come out sloppy and muddled.

“You’re four,” he countered and released your cheek. “That’s a baby.”

“I’m almost five!” you snapped as you held up your hand, spreading all five fingers wide so he could clearly count each one.

“You still have nap time.”

“Not forever! I’ll grow up! Then we can get married.”

He appeased you with a pretend moment of consideration, then he shook his head. “Nah, I don’t think so.”

With a sigh of disappointment your head fell, forcing Jake’s muddy craft project to invade your line of sight. It sprouted new interest, allowing you to forget your heartbreak. “What did you make?”

When you looked up, Jake was staring at you, waiting for you to say more. A blond eyebrow rose. “Why?”

You shrugged. “I want to know.”

Another few beats of uncertainty passed before a grin took over his face. A glimmer shone in his eyes; excitement evident in the language of his body. “Ok, well these,” he pointed to the wiggly lines etched into the mud around his man-made construction, “are waves in the water. And this,” he motioned his finger up and down the long path, “is a runway. Like on an aircraft carrier.”

“What’s an aircraft car-eer?”

“Carry-er.”

“Carry-er,” you repeated.

He nodded. “It’s kinda a big boat. Navy jets take off and land on it in the ocean.”

“That’s weird,” you giggled, and Jake shrugged.

“Well, when I’m older I’m gonna be a pilot.”

“A pilot?”

“Yea. They fly the planes…jets and stuff.”

“Woah.” Your eyes widened. You weighed his words in your mind, tossing them around until you settled on your own understanding. “I’m gonna marry a pilot!”

Jake snorted and shook his head, then he picked up one of his planes. “Here,” he said, handing it to you. He watched your little fingers wrap around the wing. “Play with me.”

—--

26 years later

“I can feel your eyes on me,” you said.

You were staring out the window of your home, loving how even in the winter, the sun shined bright—its warmth carried on the breezes traveling from the ocean that was your backyard. California was different than Texas in many ways, but the lack of winter chill was something you were glad to have be the same. You’d had your fill of the cold season over the past few years with Jake’s job taking you around the world. And while you loved the experiences and people and cultures, California offered things no other place could. Mainly, your family—or adopted family as you had taken to calling them—settled down all in one place.

“My eyes are always on you.”

Jake’s voice was as soft as the breath that caressed the shell of your ear. You shivered from the feel of it, gooseflesh spreading on your arms and raising the short hairs there. His hands rested on your shoulders and he began to knead his fingers into the exposed flesh, easily working around the thin, yellow straps of your dress. Under his touch, your body relaxed and allowed the massage to loosen any knots.

“You seem tired," he said.

You chuckled but it quickly turned into a moan as his thumbs met at the base of your neck and pressed against your spine, moving up and down in slow strokes from your hairline to the chain of your necklace and back. “Carrying your child inside me is no easy feat."

“If it makes you feel any better, you look amazing while you're doing it."

His lips replaced his fingers, drawing a line of gentle kisses over your shoulder. The second moan you released was met with a subtle growl, so low no one but you could’ve possibly heard it had a hundred people been near. Each kiss lasted longer than the one before and you loved falling into it. Whenever he kissed you, regardless of where, each nerve ending in your system happily hummed and tingled and begged for more. You could lose track of time that way. Often did.

You twisted in his arms and wrapped your own around his neck, willingly accepting the touch of his lips to yours. He ran the tip of his tongue over your bottom lip, asking for entrance, and you opened your mouth so it could slip inside to play. Fingers snuck under the hem of your dress. Rough palms dragged up your thighs and around to your ass, squeezing and pulling you closer. You savored the feeling while you could. Soon your belly would be too large for him to hold you this way.

When you separated for a breath, Jake's eyes grazed down to your neck. His finger traced along the thin chain, down to the new diamond that now sat at the center of your clavicles. "You like this?"

"I love it,” you said. “I love you.”

“I love you, baby.” he brushed a soft kiss on your forehead. "And now you know how much."

"I've always known, Jake." Always known—never questioned it—even when he’d neglected to inform you of what your mother had tried to do to the two of you. It came from a place of love, fueled by an instinctual need to protect you and the future you could have. The future you eventually got.

"You were supposed to be off all day. What did they call you in for?" you asked.

"To get a couple things ready for the new class. Did Rooster come by already?"

"Yep. We're all set. So what do you want to do for our special day, Mr. Seresin?"

"It’s not wise to ask me that, Mrs. Seresin,” he said, tucking some of your hair back behind your ear. “We'll end up staying in bed all day."

"Oh, that would be very tragic."

He chuckled. "I gotta take you by the bar. Penny has a baby gift that she said she won't hand over unless she gets to see you herself."

When Jake decided to be a pilot after you were released from the contract, he quickly became one of the best, and it put him in line with his friends in no time. But being one of the best granted him the attention that brought you to California two years ago—to Top Gun. While you’d been unbelievably proud of him, that mission nearly killed you. You’d sat at home, not sleeping, your knees constantly bouncing, your nails whittled down to nubs. With your family off risking their lives, all you had was Penny. She understood; she took care of you. She became a friend, a confidant, and something of a mother figure.

“And after the bar?”

“Whatever your heart desires, sweetheart.”

—--

You watched him, your eyes glued to his face as he laughed loudly enough to fill the space, his head thrown back from something Penny said, his teeth on full display, and blond hair shimmering in the midday sunlight that coated the inner walls of the bar.

He was so beautiful. He’d chuckle if you ever spoke it aloud, but it was nothing short of the truth. Every line and plane of his face seemed so carefully crafted. Like the work of an artist; a sculptor chipping away at a block marble to uncover the hidden beauty within. There was no poor angle; no slip of the chisel. He was undeniably perfect. And he was yours.

Ten years had passed since your wedding. Ten years of growing, of loving, of aging, and yet Jake looked just as good as he did when he stood across from you in front of that altar. Better, actually, when you gave it a thought. He had delicate little lines across his forehead, some at the corners of his eyes and mouth, but all a decade had really done was make him stronger, harder, wiser, firmer. He was a wall of a man. Somehow broader. Somehow thicker. But still devastatingly attractive. The same and yet different.

When you pulled out your wedding photo that morning—the one you’d chosen not to hang on your pale blue wall; the one that was partially blurry because you were both too giddy to stand still—you were amazed at how young you looked. Babies. Without any physical wear and tear. Both fresh and new and standing a little taller after the weight of your mother was off your shoulders. It was so far from yesterday, but you could still remember every second of that day and the days that followed. You could remember having the thought that your happiness in that bungalow wouldn’t carry through to the rest of your life; that surely it wasn’t possible. But Jake made it possible.

Your new reality was wrapped in happiness, and everything else—the business, the contract, your mother—became a dream. It all slipped away, losing power until you could finally say that you no longer acknowledged that life. You took the lessons you learned and stepped into a different world. A world with Jake.

He laughed again.

You had promised one another you’d do something special for the day—lunch at your favorite restaurant or maybe an afternoon at the beach. But as you stared at your husband, you knew you didn’t need anything else. He was all you wanted. So after Penny smiled and threw her arms around you and handed you the gift—a silver rattle with the words Baby Seresin etched into the rounded shape—you leaned over and whispered in your husband’s ear all the things you wanted him to do to you.

At that moment, any plans you'd considered for the day were canceled. He said a quick goodbye to Penny and grabbed your hand, dragging you out the door before you could finish your glass of water.

You ended up doing exactly as he’d teased—spent the rest of the day in bed, kissing and fucking and loving every second of your bodies giving and taking the pleasure between you. You surrendered to the heat of the room, the thick air dampening your skin and molding you together. Pregnant as you were, you were surprised you managed to last so long, but Jake did everything to keep you in safe positions, comfortable and cared for until you’d thoroughly exhausted one another.

You laid side by side, both staring at the ceiling, your chests rising and falling—admittedly, Jake’s a little more vigorously.

“Any chance you’re hungry after all of that?” he asked through heavy breaths.

“Starving.”

His fingers intertwined with yours and he sat up. “Come on, baby.”

As you walked through the door, you noticed for the first time that the sun's light had faded while you were holed up in your room. What felt like an hour, turned into many, and darkness sprouted stars in the sky.

Jake led you down the stairs, his hand not dropping from yours until he opened the fridge to grab a leftover cupcake from the original dozen Phoenix had whipped up for you. He pulled the shiny wrapper down and tore off a small piece of the cake before holding it up to your lips. You parted them for him and he slowly pushed the sweet sponge into your mouth.

Vanilla icing clung to the top of your lip as you chewed and with his index finger Jake swiped it off, sticking it in his mouth and sucking.

He smirked. "I can still taste you on my finger through the icing."

"Let me see." You snatched his hand and wrapped your lips around his extended finger, tracing and swirling the tip of your tongue over the digit.

Jake groaned.

"Baby, you can't do shit like this." His voice was rough, gravelly, deliciously drowning in lust while his eyes followed your mouth sliding up his finger before releasing it with a pop. "You know I'm just going to want to throw you onto that bed again."

"Maybe that's the whole poin—"

"Whatever dirty things you're doing to each other, stop now!" You jumped at the sound of Rooster’s voice coming from down the hall. Neither of you heard the door open, too distracted by one another. "An innocent child is about to enter the room."

"We aren't doing anything," you called back.

“Anymore,” Jake mumbled as he kissed your temple.

Rooster cautiously peeked his head around the corner, a dark eyebrow raised and eyes scanning up and down your bodies to ensure you were fully clothed. "Oh, good. You never know with the two of you."

"You walked in on us one time, Rooster."

"And it scarred me for life."

The two-year-old child on Rooster's hip was giggling non-stop. So much so that his rounded cheeks had turned bright red. You grinned at the look on his little face—the joy he displayed as he laughed and wiggled in your friend’s arms.

"Mama!"

"Hi, bug!" you said. "Come here."

Rooster set your son on his feet and he dashed over to you, ramming into your legs and wrapping his tiny arms around them as best he could. You ran your fingers through his blond hair, straightening out the messy locks.

"Up!"

Jake chuckled and plucked his son off the floor. "Mama can't pick you up right now, little man. Do you remember why?"

"Sissy?"

"Mhmm. Mama is carrying your baby sister," he said, placing his palm against your rounded stomach. "Right in there."

You laid your hand atop his, returning the beaming smile Jake was shooting you before looking to Rooster.

"How was he?" You asked.

"Easy as always. We had a great time. Watch this—Hey Caleb, what do you want to be when you grow up?"

"I'm gonna be a pilot like Daddy and Uncle Roo and Auntie Nat and—

You sighed. "Oh, lord."

"Well would you look at that, sweetheart."

"And let me guess: all of you are going to teach him now that you're instructors?"

"Absolutely," Rooster chimed. "My godson will be taught by no one but the best."

Jake nodded, poking at his son's belly with his free hand until the beautiful song of his giggles rang through the room again. "We're gonna have to start practicing our saluting, aren't we, little man?"

"Yes, Daddy."

Jake kissed his cheek and put him down, giving a little pat to his back. "Alright, go say goodnight to Uncle Rooster."

Rooster crouched and spread his arms wide for a hug, and Caleb took off across the tiled floor, launching into him.

The two had a special bond. Rooster, like the rest of your friends, truly was family. And with your parents not in your son’s life and Jake’s still in Texas, you were thrilled Caleb had more people around to love him. You were able to give him what you never had, and every time you saw them together, it was one more reassurance that you were nothing like the woman who birthed you.

"Bye, bye, Uncle Roo."

"Bye, kiddo. Sleep well, ok?"

"Ok."

Caleb twisted in his spot and hopped back over to his father, gripping his outstretched hand with all ten fingers and swinging it back and forth. Jake let his arm fall limp, allowing Caleb to flail it about as he pleased.

"Thank you, Rooster," you said, hoping the sincerity was evident in your tone.

"I'm always here when you guys need a little break." He winked.

Then he left, likely to make his way to the Hard Deck to see the young fiery-haired bartender who had become your friend after you discovered your children were attached at the hip from daycare. She was sweet and loveable and you knew why he liked her. It was about time another one from your small group found someone.

“Alright,” Jake began, “Bedtime.”

—--

"Is he out?" You asked as Jake shuffled into your bedroom.

"Like a light."

He peeled his clothes off, a piece falling to the floor with each step toward your bed. Then the comforter was pulled back and he snuck under it, settling into the mattress and yanking your body against his.

You giggled, limbs uncontrollably writhing when his nose began to nuzzle your neck. "Jake, it tickles. Stop."

"No," he whined. “You smell too good."

You hummed contently as a kiss met your skin. "What do I smell like?"

"Just…” he sucked and nibbled, “like you."

A beat passed. Then suddenly your bottom lip moved on its own, the beginning of the quivers you were unsuccessful in tamping down. Carefully flipping onto your side to face him, you rose a hand to cup his cheek.

“Why do you look like you’re about to cry?” he whispered. Your faces were so close, noses nearly touching, and his question was a warm puff of heat against your lips.

That question had a dozen answers. The tears welled from countless places, pulling from every feeling contained in each cell of your body. You cried because you loved him. You cried because of how good he could make you feel. You cried because of what you had, and what you'd made. You cried because of the letter he left you that morning before going to work; the one that sat beside the box holding the diamond necklace now around your neck.

You blinked to clear the salty liquid that was blurring his face, squeezed-out tears falling and soaking into your pillow. “I’ve known you my whole life” you said, stroking his cheekbone with your thumb.

“And that makes you,” his brows twisted in confusion, “sad?”

“No, Jake. That makes me grateful.”

Dimples carved into his cheeks, then he closed the space, lips sealing, fingers tangling into your hair. It tasted sweet, a sugary hint still clinging to the walls of your mouths from the icing you’d both sucked on.

Your body sank further into the mattress and your only thought was: Stay. Stay where you are, in the arms of the man who saved you and loved you, who you, too, saved and loved. Stay where you’re content and warm from the weight of his body beside you. Stay in this moment where your child sleeps soundly down the hall and the one inside you continues to healthily grow. Such a perfect time to freeze your life, and bottle it up for safe keeping.

But you couldn’t stay. You would have to continue on, as people do. Though, you weren’t afraid anymore. It had been ten years since the thought of your future terrified you. You couldn’t fear the next chapters of your life if you tried. There was too much good. Too much hope.

Jake took a breath. Smiled. Kissed your forehead. “Happy Anniversary, Sweetheart,” he said.

And you replied, “Happy Anniversary, Jake.”

—--

Sweetheart,

I’m sorry I couldn’t wake up with you. I got called into work this morning, but I’ll come back to you soon. Maybe the necklace will make up for it?

I want you to know something. Hopefully you already know it, though. Hopefully I’ve proven it time and time again. If not, then I’ll have to spend the next ten years doubling down on the effort, because you deserve nothing less. You deserve everything, baby.

I want you to know how much I love you. I know you know that I do love you, but the depths of it, Sweetheart…it's hard to find the words to fully explain. But I’m going to try anyway:

You are the love of my life. You’re the love of any life I might’ve had. Of any direction my life might have taken or any universe we might have lived in, it would always be you. Had we not been friends as children, had we not been neighbors or gone to the same school or had parents that forced us together, it still wouldn’t have mattered. I believe we would’ve found each other, somehow. I believe you were made for me, and I for you, and anything else would not have been enough.

You and I faced the biggest challenge we possibly could have and we made it out. We fought our way out, baby. And we built something perfect. We’ve given each other so much. Love and support and care. We gave each other Caleb and our baby girl, and I couldn’t ask for more. There isn’t anything else I want or need. I have our children. I have you. I have it all.

I love you, sweetheart. Always. Happy Anniversary.

x Jake

THE END…kind of

---

A/N: Again, thank you to everyone who read and supported this story. It’s really meant a lot to me :) Hopefully this was a satisfying ending in some way. There will be future fics stemming from this so if you liked Signed Away, look out for those. Also, requests are open if anyone has any ideas for future things they’d like to see.

To @xoxabs88xox, that thing we talked about happening is being moved to a future fic.

Join my taglist

@nobody7102 @blue-aconite @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @dempy @chaoticassidy @alana4610 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @dracosluvbot @smoothdogsgirl @smit41 @wkndwlff @rileyloves5 @gigisimsonmars @hangmanbrainrot @withakindheartx @teacupsandtopgun @himbos-on-ice @happypopcornprincess @violyn20 @jordanturpen @buckymcu12 @jerseybagel @nagygreta @rintheemolion @coldmuffinbanditshoe @avengersgirllorianna @oliviah-25 @talkfastromance4 @ysl-bby @chibijusstuff @kmsryles343 @sky1004 @sometimesicryintheshower @cookielovesbook-akie @yanna-banana @taylahk109 @buxkybarnez @elijahmikaelsonbitch @ravenhood2792 @potato-girl99981 @eccentricnos @kembry107 @pono-pura-vida @topguncultleader @v0id-chaos @scrappybear89 @stiles-banshees @audri-janis @jake-seresins-girl @caidi-paris @princessphilly @castle-bookworms-world @blackwidownat2814 @acupnoodle @callmemana @asteria33 @the-mouse27 @111angelnumbers111 @shanimallina87 @creativitybeware @roosterscock @love2write2626 @adaydreamaway08 @tcfanmania @dinosaurous @abaker74 @chassy21 @beaner-life-23 @iblogtopassthetime @indynerdgirl @tsnelf7 @cappot @itsmytimetoodream @capswife @lilylilyyyyyy @zbeez-outlet @misshoneypaper @ateliefloresdaprimavera @djs8891 @havlindzk @et-homephone

484 notes · View notes