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seelestia · 26 days

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✧ i'll show you (if you'll let me).

⎯ there is a certain touch of beauty to witnessing a side of theirs revealed to you so naturally. it becomes as easy as breathing if you just let it happen... so, will you? ( or in other words, a way you enable them to be themselves. )

#STARRING. aventurine, dr. ratio, sunday, dan heng ft. gn!reader. { 4.2k words }

#TAGS. fluff, established relationship. more: minor spoilers for aven's backstory (described mostly abstractly), ratio is referred to by his first name, i called sunday a nerd (sorry), dr. ratio & dan heng are certified workaholics.

#P/S. i think i may have yapped a little considering the word count but i hope it ends up being a good kind of yapping. tysm for reading! ♡

will you let aventurine hold you close when he sleeps? . . . whether it's an arm slung over your hips or his nose buried in your shoulder or fingers tracing shapes onto your skin. he doesn't ask for too much; only that you grant him the permission to cradle you in his arms, somewhere within his reach. it's a habit, he hopes you don't mind.

you have to wonder, though. considering the plenitude of pillows on the bed, why do his hands still seek you out? with all the credits he spent on those cotton-stuffed angels, you thought aventurine would relish them a bit more. but ah-ah, see? that is where you're wrong. sure, the pillows are extremely comfy but he always has a preference for things with much, much more value.

and the truth — well, his truth — is that even the softest cushions from oti mall couldn't compare to the privilege of laying his head on your chest, he'd say. especially when you brush his hair with your fingers - oh, one of the easiest ways to paradise. truly, the best value there is! can you blame a man for being honest and a little lovesick?

(“sappy,” you accuse. he pouts, offended.)

but aventurine has a flair for theatrics, you know that. his witty quips are as feather-light in weight as light-hearted they are in intent. but his touch - in the forms of kind caresses or rhythmic taps to a tune from his forgotten culture - lingers on your skin, with a yearning so heavy. you question whether it could be nostalgia or instead, silent awe at a reality he never imagined could ever be his.

(kakavasha remembers. clinging onto you for warmth like he once did to his sister, falling asleep with her prayers to mama fenge in his ears. the avgins believed gaiathra triclops to be the symbol of humility; so naturally, their prayers to her should also be humble, not too quiet but not too loud. all in moderation. for a frail child like him, those gentle prayers alone were enough to let him drift into a dreamless slumber and to ignore the shackles of reality if not for the briefest moments.

time passed. came a time where the melody he associated with slumber was no longer a soft voice lulling him but pure static, a noise to distract his mind from the chains around his wrists. they burned themselves onto his skin, searing, but he was already too familiar with the sensation to care. the mark on his neck was unwelcome, laughing at him, but he too laughed at his own pitiful reflection so what's the difference, anyway?

time passed again, the call of slumber then turned into clattering noises of chips doused in gold and dice thrown onto a surface. he thought it'd stay that way forever but before long, it morphed into up-and-down waves he couldn't decipher initially. they're gentle, faint like a human's breathing: your breathing as you allowed him to lie beside you for the first time, he realized back then. although he deems himself unworthy, an ugly grime on your pristine existence that still insists on cradling him — but despite it all, he finds this last melody to be his favorite so far.)

✧ a moment among the stars:

ticklish.

the sensation, minor yet still impactful enough, causes you to stir out of sleep. the light of noon greets your eyes and you become vaguely cognizant that the root of it all is the tufts of blond hair brushing against your neck.

there is a solid weight on your torso and a pair of slender arms loosely wrapped around your waist - but they're nothing you haven't grown used to. you comb your fingers through the messy locks licking at your skin, instinctively, and the fragrant scent of what you register as penacony's limited edition perfume kisses your nose.

“...ugh, what system time is it?” you let out a grunt, shifting around slightly to let your limbs breathe. you don't get an answer to your question, instead, aventurine's arms reestablish their hold on you. hooking you closer to him as if to wring out whatever proximity is left, if there is even any. his simple proclamation of “who cares?”, in a sense.

there it is again, that ticklish feeling. you feel soft lips grazing feather-like kisses against your collarbone. oh, he definitely isn't letting go just yet. truly merciless, a dozy morning thought accompanied by your tired sigh. the noise still comes out fond, however, so your feigned act of annoyance is fooling no one.

“it's warm, you know,” you grumble. but the yawn escaping your mouth right after betrays whatever stern image you're trying to adopt. not like you can ever be too stern with him. aventurine knows this, yes, and he gives you an A+ for effort each time.

“mhm,” he finally speaks, snuggling into your chest with no care about anything in the world, “g'morning to you too, lovely.”

his favorite mornings aren't his favorite if not thanks to your innocuous complaints and delightful attempts at pushing his pretty face away, no? a lazy grin graces the stoneheart's lips and eyes like exquisite gems, although sleepy, flutter open to gaze at you languidly. he takes the sight of you in then lets out a sigh - a fond noise just like yours earlier; the both of you really are two peas of a pod.

you must look a terrible mess right now and yet, the sight of you has aventurine smiling dazedly. “ah, what a spectacular sight. i really am the luckiest man in the galaxy,” he hums in approval. you want to roll your eyes but stops as he leans up to pepper (ah, one necessary correction: smother) kisses all over your face, arms dragging you closer to his chest like a cage. your eyes widen comically. what a nefarious trap, he has the advantage!

every remnant of sleepiness clinging to your mind evaporates. you squeal with laughter, shoving at his shoulder using the strength of a baby deer because no, you don't really want him to stop. he knows that too, of course.

“mwah, mwah, mwah—”

“pfft...! kakavasha, i can't breathe!”

(he has half a mind to pinch his skin, as if to remind himself that this is real. he can feel your giggles tickling his skin as if to tell him in return: yes, you are.)

will you let veritas pour his heart out after a long day? . . . well, that could count as too much of an overstatement. others say, “that man is like a brick wall!” some more dare to whisper, “doesn't his temper already exhaust whatever emotional quota he has?!” needless to say, everyone knows that dr. ratio is a man ruled by the mind, not by the heart. alright, that's quite true - but does that imply he has discarded the latter altogether? if so, then you beg to differ.

(not in the literal sense, of course! the heart is a vital organ of the body. saying otherwise would be akin to spitting on his shiny phd in biology... or his seven other phd's at that.)

the pedestal which the public places veritas ratio on reaches still great heights, even if it may not rival an ivory tower a member of the genius society resides in. it is so high up that mundane troubles of those below can't reach a genius like him, surely? well, as tall as he stands - somehow, the universe grants you a front row seat for a particular sight that proves otherwise.

if only they knew the doctor has a habit of mumbling these incomprehensible (more like barely intelligible) grumbles under his breath, striking a resemblance similar to a grumpy old cat. if you strain your ears hard enough, you might catch a “...this has to be it...” or “...i dare not think so...” from time to time as he roams around the room with materials in his hands.

(absurd, people would say. but you think it's extremely cute.)

veritas doesn't say it out loud - but you can tell by the hunch in his stiff shoulders, by the one or two sighs he huffs every six minutes - that he is itching to tell somebody of all the tomfooleries he has encountered today. of course, the topics he laments about vary; it's only when you hear him exhaling the loudest sigh that you get to find out.

mostly though, it's about his students and remarks on how they can further improve their performance — sure, he could phrase it a little gentler — but you still find it sweet that he cares. if not that, then it'd be about indolent colleagues, complicated formulae and more. on some days, he'll even let out an exasperated “truly mind-boggling! could you believe that?” to which you'd reply with an “uh-huh, go on.”

at the end of a ranting session, veritas takes careful note to leave a kiss on your person afterward. no matter where it is - on the lips, the cheek or your hand. no matter where you are - sitting on the couch beside him, behind the kitchen counter or across the room. the warmth that stays on your skin when he pulls away is somewhat tingly. appreciative, you think, especially when he looks at you with such loving eyes that his colleagues would be sure to retch in shock if they were a witness.

looks like you are right on the money; he has never discarded his heart, after all. so yes, to rephrase - will you lend veritas a listening ear when he needs it?

✧ a moment among the stars:

“...yet another headache.”

as unsubtle as ever, the doctor's complaint is barely hidden behind the guise of a mumble. those neatly styled violet bangs of his aren't doing an excellent job at concealing that frown strewn across his forehead either. veritas's posture is tense, a dead giveaway, as he goes over the piles of documents on his desk.

you cock an eyebrow upon seeing the stamp belonging to the intelligentsia guild on one of the papers. definitely work. it has been two system hours since he took a seat at the work desk, you concur, or lifted a finger to do something besides flipping through drafts. a mere glance at the stack of documents is enough to convince you that those researchers at the guild must really value veritas's input.

a perk of being a genius, maybe? the phantom of a weight lands alight on your shoulders. with a mug of black coffee in hand, you make your way to him. your footsteps are without a sound, only the noise of porcelain being placed down onto woodenware is enough to announce your arrival. “rough day at work?” you ask, peering down at his progress.

(a doctor's handwriting really is something. you resist the urge to squint.)

veritas doesn't seem to mind. if the way he smiles at the sight of you, albeit tiredly, is any indication. “hah,” he rests a hand on his temple and scoffs wryly, “so much grievances like you wouldn't believe.”

oh, he is teetering on the precipice of a tangent but stops himself. “...fret not, i'm fine. this is hardly something beyond my expertise,” he shakes his head, the motion causing his reading glasses to slide down a smidgen down the bridge of his nose.

you're too familiar with the self-assured bravado he puts on. you're quite endeared, actually. “okay, mr. i-require-no-rest,” you take the glasses off his face and he breaks into a frown. at the childish tone you're using or for having his reading glasses taken away, you don't know.

“why don't you take a little break?” you suggest. veritas sighs, “need i remind you that dilly-dallying is for fools who wish to waste their time?” and crosses his arms defiantly. he knows your strategy, he has come face-to-face with it several times.

“do you think a break with me is a waste of time?” you present him with a rhetorical question, quite the difficult adversary.

(and he keeps losing to it every single time.)

“well, that's—” the doctor nearly splutters, taken aback. “that's different if you insist on inserting yourself as a variable,” he infers, putting emphasis on the last part accompanied by an incredulous look.

“the answer is up for debate then,” you shrug with a cheeky smile. your hand then deftly lifts the mug you previously set down to your lips, veritas's eyes dilate in bewilderment. “so,” you hum at the rich taste of your handiwork, “wanna tell me about your day? haven't heard about the council in a while.”

“you—” he gasps in defeat, “i thought that was supposed to be my mug of coffee.”

(he has a slight pout on his face, but you dare not point it out lest it disappears in the blink of an eye.)

“our mug of coffee,” you take a few more sips with an innocent decadence. “all is fair in love and war, doctor.”

“i can never win with you,” he buries his face in his palm with a groan. you laugh heartily, a sound that chimes like quaint little bells in his ears - it elicits a reaction from his lips, for them to quirk up at the corners in the smallest of ways.

“regardless. . .” veritas relents and reaches for your free hand. you let him. “it seems a break wouldn't be so amiss, after all,” he then presses a kiss on the side of your wrist, affectionate.

(your heart skips a beat.)

will you let sunday regale you with facts you've never heard of before? . . . a man of eloquent words, no less a man of educated mind. you have no doubt that the books in the dewlight pavilion really aren't just there for show - not that you're allowed to browse through them at your own desire. a servant's voice would stop you in your tracks should your fingers ever brush against something in the family's secret bookshelf.

how mysterious.

but sunday makes it known to the staff that you, in particular, are allowed more access to the shelves - perhaps, not too much - but more than even mr. mccoy, at least. with the way you have to crane your neck far up to pinpoint the tallest height that the shelves reach, you wonder: has sunday gone through everything here personally?

your immediate answer is most likely. you know sunday fairly well; to have something that he hasn't scrutinized from the inside out in his possession will surely gnaw away at his psyche incessantly. not being in the know at all times is a looming fear for him. but of course, you have other ways to confirm the answer for yourself.

pick out a book from a shelf there, either intentional or purely arbitrary, and watch as sunday carefully traces his steps towards you. his curiosity is piqued, which topic has caught your interest this time? but he tucks it under proper cordiality. with a hand behind his back, he'd utter your name in the softest tone and ask the familiar question of “would you like to know more?” — asking for your permission to ramble, essentially — you find this tendency of his to be charming, so you nod each time.

(and he smiles when you do. a smile less refined at the edges, kinder and relaxed.)

the best place to start from is always the beginning. you think sunday agrees because he often starts by telling you the history and its origins before moving on to its impact on the galaxy, then his personal stance on the topic. it's a pattern, you notice, his ramblings have a pattern. and it's consistent every time, you might've believed he was reading off a script. and what's more? sunday is blissfully oblivious of it.

fascinating. you ponder: what kind of things you can do with this information? decisions, decisions, decisions. . . but ultimately, you opt for keeping it a secret like a treasure only you're allowed to see.

(that might be true in a way. you don't doubt that robin, his dear sister, is familiar with this side of him. does that mean he treasures you like he does her? your chest starts to feel a bit lighter.)

if you were to point it out, you fear you might never witness it again - goodness, to know that he has been displaying such foolishness or rather, what he viewed as an embarrassing freudian slip in front of you? his wings might as well resort to covering his face for good until the end of time.

as you listen to him talk (with such elegance at that), you can't help whatever tender look you have on your face. really, who would've thought the head of the oak family could be such. . . a nerd?

(you hope in secret that sunday will be more willing to show sides like these to you in the future. and that they're not a weakness at all, not when they're shared with you.)

✧ a moment among the stars:

“it looks like you're fascinated by the dreamscape nursery rhyme this time.”

sunday spares the article in your hold no further inspection. one glance at the cover and walls of memorized information rush to the front of his mind. he looks familiar with it; could it be a part of his childhood too? but then again, everything found here is within his knowledge.

“i am,” you say with intrigue, “it got me ruminating for a while.”

you meet his gaze, stumbling upon yellow irises that glimmer akin to gold under penaconian chandeliers. you think you see a hint of affection in them, swimming around your reflection like a school of fish in a pond. it makes you smile.

he smiles back, oblivious to your thoughts but returns your gesture. he asks, “how so?” and you reply without delay, “i read through it and the morbid undertone took me by surpri—”

or at least, it's supposed to be without delay until you realize sunday has stepped closer in order to peer down at the page you're holding open. and suddenly, you're extremely aware of every minute detail like how his breath brushes against the side of your cheek and how his chest rumbles as he hums in acknowledgement.

(you flush in the neck and he perceives this reaction of yours with mirth.)

“my apologies,” sunday chuckles and pulls away, “i've simply forgotten the rhyme and wished to refresh my memory.”

“somehow, i feel that isn't the case...” you mumble accusingly. that seems to amplify whatever little amusement he gets from flustering you. “oh, my dove. i can assure you that it is,” he caresses your head, a little placatingly.

most times, sunday isn't so laidback about giving affection in public — since he has an image to maintain — so you assume the fact that the servants are out and about, leaving only you and him here, plays a role in his unusual boldness. you accept the gesture with a bashful pout.

“now, where were we?” sunday clears his throat, “ah, yes. some people have noted on the nursery rhyme's strange quality but still, it retains its popularity in penacony. it is also widely assumed that the hound resembles the bloodhound family while—”

you hold back an amused sigh, but it's more out of fondness than anything. he'll start from the history then the effect on the general public, as per usual, but you're not the only predictable one here. you'd listen to him anytime too, won't you?

(you do adore when the head of the oak family would put off his public figure mask around you. if only for just a while.)

will you let dan heng rest his head on your lap when it's just you two? . . . the sense of comfort it provides isn't something he can explain with words. as if he has ever been good with words in the first place. saying a sentence bereft of logical reasoning or witty remarks doesn't come easily to the express’ guard. neither does intimacy. . . but you know that already, don't you?

after all, it isn't a secret that dan heng prefers speaking with his actions. if to show one's intentions is the end goal, then actions are the fastest route to choose. words, although able to sweeten the trip like how a beautiful scenery can, will eventually lead to actions regardless so why take the extra step?

but you're different from him; you articulate what you think and what you mean. you're honest in ways that keep catching dan heng off guard without fail — just like the first time you offered your empty lap to him when his head was swirling in pain — but he supposes that is one of your charms. “words can be useful. we're not all born mind readers,” you told him once and he hummed, accepting of your perspective.

(“look at you two! opposites attract!” march chirped. he recalled shooting her a look of indignation and she rubbed the back of her head sheepishly in response.)

dan heng has learnt to grow used to your propensities - but by far, your shameless invitations are still one matter that can't be comprehended even with time. he cannot understand; how you smile as you sit on his futon in the archives (he doesn't mind), how you link gazes with him so effortlessly, how you pat your lap knowingly and say, “why don't you rest your head here?”

(he has to restrain himself from bursting into flames like a heliobus.)

sometimes, he'll accept reluctantly or he'll decline with an underlying tone of longing he doesn't want you to notice. because as much of a good hold dan heng has on nonchalance, he cannot deny that this particular gesture of yours has left a mark on him.

(it remains persistently.)

when he rests his head on your lap, he can't help but take a deep inhale - your fragrance fills his senses and he discards the selfish desire to keep it all to himself. your fingers are soothing as they thread through his hair gently. the feeling that washes over him is serene, almost comparable to submerging himself in the pure waters of scalegorge waterscape.

when overcome by such a tranquil state of mind, dan heng wonders what expression he might be making at that moment? he always keeps his eyes closed, so it's a shame he may never know. but you do, and you don't think you've ever seen him look so at peace before like he does now.

(perhaps, that's why you keep offering him this in the first place.)

✧ a moment among the stars:

“someone looks tired,” you state with a pointed stare. the archives isn't a room too spacious and the only ones here are you and him. the target of your sentence is obvious.

but dan heng doesn't take the bait, barely looks away from the entry he is currently authoring. still, he spares you a glance and hums glibly, “are you projecting? if so, feel free to use my bed in the meantime.”

you let out a noise, something gibberish that conveys disappointment but it is effectively drowned out by the typing noises. “you haven't even touched the food i bought you,” your voice becomes mellow, “why don't you rest for a while?”

he isn't convinced, you think, since his fingers are still hard at work. the new info the team brought back must've been a lot if he's that focused.

“dan heng?” you try again, hopeful for the last time. you don't take him for a fool, of course, he'll know when he reaches his limit and have proper rest then. but would that really be ideal? a second passes and that hope flickers like a dimming light. but just an inch before the edge of giving up, the typing slows to a stop.

“. . .alright,” he murmurs. finally, after a good hour spent drawing patterns on his backside with your eyes, dan heng turns around to face you. he look tense, you note with abject concern.

“here,” you usher him to your lap, empty and conveniently so. dan heng shoots you a blank look - this isn't the first time you offered and this isn't the first time he reacted like that. you try to suppress a laugh, failing gloriously at it. “just for a little bit,” you utter through a stifled fit of chuckles.

dan heng shakes his head, not in rejection but in defeat. his eyes slip close, second nature, as he leans to situate his head on your lap. you welcome him with a hum and let your fingers card through his hair. a calm sigh falls from his lips like a water droplet in springtime.

“this. . . is nice,” he admits, sudden and unprompted. you nearly doubt your ears for a moment there. did he— “i don't hate it is, uhm, what i mean to say,” dan heng adds and it dawns on you that your ears are still working. his eyes are still closed, not that you'd expect anything else, he prefers to treat it as a shield from being face-to-face with embarrassment.

(or to avoid your ecstatic gaze. he can feel warmth rushing to his cheeks already.)

“i know,” you smile, brushing away a few messy strands from his forehead. he isn't an open book but you think you've read the pages enough to remember all the little details. “but thanks for telling me. i'm no mind reader but i think i can read yours pretty well.”

“i shall provide no further comment,” he holds back an incredulous exhale, yet his lips still curl slightly at the corner. you feel the teeniest desire to trace the curve of his lips with your fingertip but settle for silently admiring them instead.

“it's fine. i know the answer already,” you say, words dripping with affection. such a shame dan heng never looks up at you during a time like this. because if he did, he wouldn't have missed seeing the sheer fondness in your gaze that rains down on him in light showers. a true shame.

(one day, he'll gather the courage. maybe.)

— thank you for reading! reblogs with comments are most appreciated. ♡

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio x you #sunday x reader #sunday x you #dan heng x reader #dan heng x you #hsr fluff #hsr headcanons #hsr imagines #seelestial.inks

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reiderwriter · 7 months

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At Long Last Love Has Arrived

Final Chapter of That's What You Get

Summary: After a hard case, the team gathers in a celebration of love and friendship.

Warnings: suggestive content, no smut. Spoilers for Seaaon 7 Episodes "Hit" and "Run."

A/N: This is it! This is the final chapter! It's been a long journey and I'm so thankful to everyone who liked, commented, reblogged, and generally followed along with the story! And to anyone who is here now that it's finished: Thank you as well! For now, this is everything I have planned for this series, but I might add a few epilogues a few months down the line!

For everyone waiting for my last week of kinktober content, thank you for being so patient! I'm hoping to get it all finished and the backlog up this weekend, so let's just count this as a super special weekend special!

As always, you can find my masterlist here and the series masterlist here!

It was late in the day when the case finally wrapped, and you'd never felt more relieved to have come out of a case unscathed.

JJ was a wreck, obviously, having had her family targeted and believing on multiple occasions that she was about to lose her partner. Emily was acting strange, too, and you were growing more concerned with her, especially after she'd put herself in harm's way to save Will.

The team was exhausted, and you gladly slunked away that night, practically falling into your own apartment as you tried to bury a day of close calls. Spencer followed you, of course. The two of you sat silently together after the days events, just thankful to have company, really.

Your husband (you were still warming yourself up to that title) sat, jaw tensed, on your couch, book in hand and hair a mess as you sat beside him, slowly sinking further into the couch as you thanked the gods that everyone got through that, but especially him.

"Spencer," you whispered, looking at him to see if he'd notice your small sounds. No reaction.

"Spencer." You tried again, still in a whisper, but he still didn't make a move. Sighing and falling further into the couch, you decided just to go for it and laid your head in his lap quietly, closing your eyes and finding a comfortable position. He didn't bat an eye, though, simply tangling a hand through your hair and gently stroking it until the comforting repetition pulled you into a dreamless slumber.

He tried to wake you up gently a few hours later, but the shrill ring of his cell interrupted his gentle touches. You gasped and startled up, almost headbutting him but instead ending up face to face, close enough to hear the hitch in his breath as he caught you just before you collided.

"Sorry… I must've fallen asleep." Your voice was low, mostly because you'd let your gaze fall down to his lips, getting distracted by his proximity.

"You did." He said, stroking your back and looking just as distracted.

"We should probably pick that call up, right," you suggested, but you were already being drawn into his orbit, noses practically touching.

"Maybe we should," he replied, but instead of moving to do so, he simply tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and pulled your face up to his. The slant of his lips against yours was calming, so sweet and familiar, and so goddamn good that it helped drown out the pitchy screech of his phone. His hand stayed firmly on your jaw, controlling your movements and showing you exactly what he wanted in these stolen moments.

As the kiss went on, it grew hotter, a gentle flame searing your chest as you begged his lips to put it out, needing more and more of him. His hand left your jaw, falling instead to your ass as he pulled you on top of him fully, letting you straddle him as he kept your lips connected.

You were entranced, letting him devour you to your heart's content. You wanted to move your hips to feel more of him at your core, but he had a firm grip and wasn't letting you go that easily.

"Talk about topping from the bottom," you laughed into his ear as you pulled away for a second, pushing your hair behind your ear before he grabbed you and pulled you down for another hungry kiss.

"Don't get bratty, Y/N, we both know you're a pillow princess," you laughed at that and he took advantage, pressing his lips to your neck as he finally let your hips fall to meet his. Your laugh morphed into a hiss as you desperately clung to his shoulders, head thrown back in the bliss of what was to come.

The ringing had stopped, thankfully, and honestly, it was so far from your mind that you'd almost completely forgotten what had woken you in the first place.

Until it started again, except this time it was vibrations in your pants and you practically moaned out loud before clapping a hand over your mouth and bolting from Spencer's lap, grabbing your phone as fast as you could while Spencer barely contained his enjoyment of the situation.

"This is Y/N." You said into the receiver as you glared daggers at him.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything, but considering Doctor Reid just let my call ring out, I think I might have." David Rossi's barely contained mirth was evident even through the phone, and you mouthed some bad words at Spencer as he grabbed you and pulled you down into his lap again.

"Since that wasn't a question, I won't be dignified it with a response. Is there anything you need, Rossi?" You asked, tipping your head back against Spencer’s shoulder but not letting yourself relax just yet. You'd never be able to live it down if you made any mistakes on this call.

"Somehow, the knuckleheads around me keep getting engaged and married, and as a generous soul, I find myself wanting to help them."

"Who got engaged?" You said, suddenly perking up. It'd been a tough day. Some good news and a celebration were direly needed.

"Relax, I'm getting there. Are you and your now seemingly permanent husband free tomorrow night? A little birdie may have told me about a certain blonde finally giving into a proposal today. That same birdie may also have already flown out a Mrs. Jareau to bare witness."

"David Rossi, has anyone ever told you what a wonderful man you are?"

"Not enough, I'm sure."

"We'll be there. What time?" He told you the details, and you whispered them into Spencer's ear, knowing that was just as good as jotting it down on paper.

"And Rossi?" You said, as you were about to say your goodbyes, "thank you. For everything." The call ended and looked back up at Spencer from your place on his lap.

"I think we have another shotgun wedding to attend."

–X–

Waiting for JJ to come down in her wedding dress, you were reminded again of what a truly wonderful choice of husband you had made.

The two of you had arrived together at the wedding, but had made a small attempt to separate yourselves for now, not wanting to take the attention away from JJ and Will on their big day after their nightmarish week. You'd had a quick wink from Penelope, though, and a wiggle of the eyebrows from Emily, which made you chuckle as she handed you a flute of champagne.

"You look incredible, Mrs. Reid." She said under her breath, and you giggled a bit but called her off as best you could.

"Laying low for now, so keep your mouth shut, Agent Prentiss." She stuck her tongue out at you, and the two of you burst into laughter as you enjoyed the peaceful ambience Rossi had created in his back garden.

"If Rossi ever re-retires, he should think of pursuing a career as a party planner. I know writing is working out well for him, but damn, that man could make a killing." Emily joked, catching your attention for a second, but you were distracted, eyes watching Reid from across the lawn.

He was crouched down beside Henry, showing the eager, bright-eyed boy a magic trick. He looked so happy, so genuinely engaged with Henry, focusing his entire attention on him, that you couldn't help but watch on fondly. You knew how it felt to have his attention devoted entirely on you, and you felt your skin grow warm as you imagined how he would be with his own children.

With your children.

"Looking a little feverish there, Y/N. Baby feverish." In embarrassment, you looked away, letting your eyes fall around the lawn to anything but Reid as you tried to stammer out a response.

"Whatever could you mean? Oh, would you look at that, Hotch is calling me over, see you."

A skilful exit it was not, and now you'd forced yourself to go and make awkward conversation with your boss for a few minutes to escape the cackles of laughter escaping Emily behind you. You felt your ears glow red as you slowly marched across the lawn, convinced that someone was going to try and extinguish you before you reached your destination.

Luckily, Beth saw you approach before Hotchner did and called out to you, extending a smile and a greeting.

"Y/N, you look lovely. It's great to see you. How have you been?" You exchanged pleasantries and chatted for a while before Hotch cut in again.

''Beth, I think the ceremony is starting soon. Would you mind finding Jack for me while I discuss something with Y/N?" He dismissed her effortlessly, and you suddenly dreaded the conversation that was about to come, noting your slip up from a few nights before.

"Y/N, I don't mean to pry, but I've been meaning to ask you about your relationship with Spencer." Your eyes opened wide as you blinked at him again for another second.

"Hold on, you don't know?" He looked down at you with a furrowed brow, somehow thinking you'd both misunderstood the conversation and where it was headed.

In all honesty, you'd jumped to the conclusion after his warning over the phone the day before that he'd known about your relationship with Spencer. It didn't really make all that much sense to you, but you thought he must've been your second witness, only because there were very few people with the power to keep Penelope Garcia silent. But now, you wondered if you'd been wrong.

"Don't know what? Y/N, I'm simply asking a question about your physical relationship with Reid and if you think it will color either of your judgements on cases."

"Physical… oh my god." You begged the earth to swallow you whole at that point.

"I'm correct in thinking you two had relations whilst we were staying in Las Vegas, am I not?" His brow stayed furrowed as he fished for more information.

"How… How did you know?"

"Spencer babbled about Star Trek in the lobby that last morning in Vegas. He seemed nervous, and combined with your suspicious attitude, it wasn't exactly a well-kept secret. Plants aren't great hiding spots, Y/N."

"Oh god," you groaned again, a hand falling to your mouth to cover your shocked face as you took everything in. He'd practically known from the start, even if he hadn't really known. "So you want to know if we can be trusted to stay impartial in the field."

"Simply put, yes, it is a concern of mine. The FBI technically frowns on casual hookups between employees, but in this case, if you can work professionally-"

"We're married," you blurted out before you could stop yourself. You almost enjoyed the shock on Aaron Hotchner's face as you dropped that bombshell, as momentary as it was.

"That certainly…changes things." He considered your words for a moment before opening his mouth again. "We can talk about this in the office on Monday. For now, congratulations are in order."

As you clicked your glasses together awkwardly, Rossi gathered everyone's attention, ready to begin the ceremony. You took your place next to Spencer and let him grab your hand and squeeze it for a moment, sharing a look before you turned your gaze back to JJ and watched as her mother walked her down the aisle to marry the love of her life.

His hand in yours was warm and constant, and he held you so softly that you felt like you were floating. He'd been worried that morning that you'd feel slightly forlorn at the wedding ceremony. After all, you didn't have much of one, even if he'd promised you 100 do-overs and vow renewals.

But standing here with him, you found yourself feeling thankful simply that he was there with you. Your wedding had been perfect, and you gladly applauded JJ and Will as they finally kissed at the altar, wishing them all the bliss that you felt in that moment.

The party was a blast and you had an amazing time eating, drinking and dancing with all your guests, gladly taking the opportunity to hog Spencer for a few dances, enjoying how you were able to shamelessly cling to him with no one batting an eye. Your joy and laughter spilt out every time he swung you around and pulled you into him, abuzz with love.

You were almost glad when JJ called you all in for a quick speech, grateful to let your feet have a rest - Spencer may have been dancing enthusiastically, but he was still Spencer, and your toes had been attacked a few times in the course of your few dances.

"I want to say thank you for coming here tonight, and, of course, thank you, Rossi, for hosting this beautiful wedding. It's not every day we get to celebrate a wedding in the BAU, let alone two in one year, so I'm just thankful we got to come together to celebrate like this."

Will looked perplexed by her side as she raised her flute to start the toast.

"Hold on, who else got married?"

Your eyes widened as you stopped your champagne flute by your lips, suddenly catching on to the thread of conversation.

"Oh my god, it was you!" You shouted, jumping up and probably confusing every single guest in attendance. "JJ, you- you were the other witness!" You stood there shaking a pointed finger at her, semi shocked.

"Witness to what?" Morgan asked tentatively, wondering what he'd been left out of for a second.

"I guess the cats out the bag. Sorry, Spence."

"Why are you apologising to Spencer? Who got married?" Derek's questions were going unanswered, though, as you blubbered in the middle of the crowd suddenly put the pieces together.

"You know, the FBI really shot themselves in the foot when they let you go over to Homeland. You're good." You cracked a smile at JJ, and she smiled back, just as you felt a hand on your back.

"We didn't want to announce it here and hijack your wedding, but since you kinda let it slip first, would you mind if we…?" Spencer vaguely gestured between you, just as JJ let him take the floor, her and Will standing off to the side as Spencer turned the both of you around to face the crowd.

You tried to meet his gaze as he did but his eyes stayed trained on the crowd in front of you instead. Still puzzled, he began to talk, and you listened.

"Last month, we chose to get married in Las Vegas," he started and braced for impact as he looked out at the audience. "And- and it seems like most of you knew that?" He'd theorised that most of your team knew already, but he wasn't prepared for just how many of them stood looking back at him with a sheepish 'yes, we know' look on their faces.

"Wait, how do so many of you know?" He glanced around the crowd, landing on Rossi's gloating face first.

"Don't look at me kid, you told me about it, and I kept my mouth shut."

He turned to Emily next. "Y/N sent me a text meant for someone else, and I tortured the information out of her after that."

Exasperated, he looked down at you before shaking his head and looking at Hotch.

"I expressed some concerns about your… involvement earlier, and Y/N informed me about your relationship status." He explained, tone serious in that mocking way only he could carry off.

"And I was there, and so was Penelope." JJ filled in the gaps, leaving you feeling particularly bashful at Spencer’s side.

In a second, though, you were consumed by giggles as Morgan whipped around on Penelope dramatically.

"Et tu, baby girl? Am I seriously the only one who didn't know?" Morgan glanced around receiving pats on the back from the crowd as they slowly trickled back to the dance floor, picking up extra drinks as they went.

"No, I'm there with you, Morgan. JJ didn't even tell me you guys were dating." Will said, looking genuinely taken aback once again.

"Oh, well. That's probably because we didn't actually date. We just got married." You replied, feeling your face flood with heat as you stuttered the words out once again.

"You're telling me I had to almost die to get JJ to agree to marry me, even after 7 years of dating and a child, and you managed to convince a woman to do it in one night in Vegas?" Will seemed genuinely impressed, and with a laugh, gave Spencer a clap on the back awkwardly as he offered his congratulations.

Penelope led Morgan away to console him, and the other happy couple walked back to the dance floor again as well, leaving you in the arms of your husband, as you finally had to face your small mistakes.

"So, Mrs. Reid, whatever happened to keeping this to ourselves for a while?"

"Honest mistakes, both of them, I swear." He took your hands in his and pulled them up so he could kiss your wrists before gently dropping them and pulling you in at the waist.

His mouth fell to your ears as he spoke again.

"And I was so looking forward to using one of the methods we brainstormed the other night." You stood confused for a second as he pulled back to watch your expressions, your mouth twitching the second you realised what he meant.

Ring. Motel. Loud sex. And breeding you until he knocked you up.

Clearing your throat, you wrapped your arms up and around his shoulders, hanging yourself off him, putting yourself at his mercy as you fluttered your eyelashes up at him.

"Well, I wouldn't want to spoil your enjoyment now, would I? I'm sure we can still find the time to try those methods out."

The excitement in his eyes was almost comical, and you genuinely yelped as he literally swept you off your feet.

"Spencer, what are you doing? Put me down!"

"No, you're coming home with me, Mrs. Reid. Sorry, it's official now. You're mine."

"And I'm not going to forget it easily, now put me down."

"And let you go back on your promise to let me do some very dirty things to you? Never."

With another startled squeak, he carried you through the crowd and right to the doors, carrying you all the way into your new life together.

At long last, your love had arrived, and he was carrying you away into your future.

🏷 @w-windyy @multifandom-on-the-side @reidandhotchsgirl @babybluecakes @hugyourlungs @prentissesredtanktop @reidscaffeine @bethanyhaas01 @average-sunflower @academiareid @sailortongue @daddy-dotcom @high-functioning-cosplayer @anniewhalelover @abbyshmaby @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @ferrjulie @scoobydoopoo @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @jamiemuscatosslut @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @dysphoricsanity @ghostheartbeat @casss2111 @rebloggiest-reblogger @wishyoudaskme @imawhoreforu @academiacoffeelover @softservepunk @andiebeaword @r-3dlips @wakaladjarin @ratbastardchild @mcira @danika1994 @stargurl99 @whovianwholikesgirls @whovianwholikesgirls @doriantomybasil

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lalacliffthorne · 11 months

Text

💜 starshine pt. III 💜

Rhysand x Reader

part I part II part III part IV part V part VI

notes: literally no summary possible without intense spoilers. you´ll probably be able to guess what this chapter entails by just like the first few sentences (btw, it's been ages since I read the books, so I'm working on a lot of creative freedom with this one lol). fair warning: this one's angsty. like I already mentioned, it's also insanely long. so. have fun? I guess?

______________________________________________________________

Slipping through the wards felt like a tingle of ice on my skin. My breath hitched, and for a second, I expected the mountain to cave in on me, squash me as it realized someone had breached the magic binding so many to its halls.

But nothing happened.

The servant fae's dress slipped up my thighs when I slid into the dark corridors. I had caught her when she had lingered too close to the wards, golden whisps of magic seeping through the bounds and engulfing her, catching her when she fell into a deep, dreamless slumber. I had swapped our clothes before hiding her floating body behind a glamour and slipping into the dark mountain.

Something closed around my throat lightly as I moved through the shadows, stilling every time I heard a sound.

Fifty years.

Fifty years of chipping away at the wards guarding the mountain, little by little so no one would notice the small growing hole in the thickly woven magic. Fifty years of trying to be everywhere at once, moving through the courts, healing those in need before slipping away before anyone could notice. Fifty years of faeries slaughtered in numbers becoming bigger and bigger, causing rage to grow slowly in my chest.

Fifty years of dreaming of violet eyes like night skies.

I remembered the day Amarantha had caught them all like it was yesterday.

I had been staying in the Day Court, and from one second to the next, the warm summer night had turned ice cold. A darkness had placed itself over the world, the faeries in the garden had disappeared and the glow of the flowers had dimmed. An icy shiver had run down my spine, and like instinct, I had reached out for Rhys, for that familiar feeling that was always not far from the bounds of my mind, the sharp claws that tickled my soul before the deep, rich voice echoed through my head, even when their owner was on the other side of Prythian.

But there had been nothing. No presence, not even when I had called out to him. Instead, there was a harsh wall, like something, or someone, was blocking him.

I had started looking for him the day after.

☆

Following the halls deeper into the mountain, I simply listened to the tug in my chest that pulled me forward, guiding me towards the hum of power. My own responded, slithering angrily under my skin, and I pushed it down, barricading it behind walls as high as the sky.

I had learned to hide the thrum of power flooding through me a long time ago. It was what kept me hidden in the courts, allowed me to exist without anyone bothering me.

Strangely enough, it had never kept Rhys from finding me, like even the way my powers were hidden was distinct enough for him to track me down. When I had brought it up once, he had just grinned so widely, his cheeks had creased as he replied: “Starshine, I would be able to find you on nothing but instinct even if you were galaxies away.”

Back then, it had made something skip softly against my ribs as I had thrown a pillow at his head.

Now, just the memory of his voice caused a strange ache in my chest.

Amarantha had taken Rhys away from his family, his home. And I was sure that the only reason he was playing her game, bowing to her, was to protect them.

If there was one thing I had learned about him in the past century, it was that his friends, his family and his home were everything to him. And that he would do anything to keep them safe.

Even give himself up.

The tight feeling in my chest shifted, like for a second, something scratched the surface, a familiar presence growing closer, and I breathed out soundlessly.

There was no way I was going to let her break him.

Not him.

☆

The whispers from Under the Mountain had been vague, but with time, they had started to paint a picture, blurred and hazy, but clear enough to know that Amarantha had a fable for lavish nights with wine and entertainment.

I had expected that entertainment to be cruel. I had spent the last fifty years trying to protect the faeries, for Amarantha seemed to have developed a taste for keeping them like animals, all while hearing rumors about the Fae trapped Under the Mountain, forced to bow to her will.

But what was awaiting me when I slipped through the doors into the huge cavernous hall, the stench of spirits hitting me and the air pressed from my lungs – was so much worse.

There were Fae everywhere, dressed in a way that left little to the imagination. Their gazes ranged from empty to forcingly amused to petrified, but their bodies moved like they were in a trance, not their own will causing them to dance, grind on each other and do more, in plain sight for all to see.

It felt like a sick, twisted stage play, orchestrated for nothing but the embarassement and torture of the courts and one single person's amusement, one person who loomed on a dais at the back wall, sitting on a throne, dressed from head to toe in blood red.

My eyes zeroed in, and my powers surged against the walls caging them in.

Amarantha had tipped her head to the side, her golden crown glittering in the light of the torches as she watched the spectacle at the foot of the dais. Her red hair flowed over her shoulders, her long nails tapping against the armrests. There was a light amused curve to her lips, but her eyes were cold and calculating.

Somehow reigning in the magic raging under my skin, I pressed my lips together and followed her piercing gaze, down to the steps leading up to the dais -

The wind got knocked out of my lungs.

The noises, the hall around me faded as something pulsed slowly against my ribs, my heart beating like the wings of a butterfly caught in time, trying to escape from my chest as my gaze narrowed in until it was centered on the male at the foot of the dais, a picture of lazy feline confidence so familiar, I had to fight for air.

Rhys.

Suddenly, fifty years caught up with me. Fifty years of his face burned into my mind, his smile and the way his violet eyes twinkled like a glittering night sky.

Only it was gone now. The spark in his iris, the vibrancy of his eyes. His dark hair, though still impeccably styled, had lost its shine, his sunkissed skin was pale and sallow, and his smile –

Something tightened so harshly in my chest, I held my breath.

Gone was the cheeky curve of his lips, the mischievous turn of his grin and that stupidly beautiful smile. It had been replaced by a light smirk, one that was cold and cruel and –

Didn't reach his eyes.

His smile had always reached his eyes. Even when it promised violence and bloodshed and broken bones, it always translated to the way his eyes looked, to the spark in his iris, angry or furious.

Only it didn't anymore.

I tried to swallow, fight against the way something closed around my throat when I stared at Rhys and his eyes, dull and unmoving as he gazed down onto the heap at his feet, a heap -

My breath stilled, and the grip around my throat changed to vice.

It was a sprite boy. A moonwing, with feathery white hair caked with dirt, milky pale skin torn and bloody over too-thin limbs, and his wings –

His wings.

A sound built at the bottom of my throat, a strangled whimper that was swallowed by the harsh noises around me. Something clawed at my chest, a pain so heavy I almost went to my knees as I stared at what used to be thin-as-lace wings, their white membranes hanging in bloody shreds over a whipmarked back.

Quickly clamping a shaking hand over my mouth to smother the heaving sob breaking from my throat, I almost sank into the wall, my body beginning to shake. I felt something hot run over my cheek as I stared at the faerie, swaying as he tried to get to his feet without the support of his wings. His pain was mine, his despair gripping me like an iron fist, my breath trembling as my vision blurred and I whimpered.

No.

Rhysand stilled. I could see his shoulders shift. Then his head rose, eyes tearing away from the moonwing to swiftly move over the crowd, and for nothing more than a second, a fraction of a heartbeat, something flashed through his eyes, something that was buried so deep, it was nearly impossible to make out.

Like somehow, he felt my anguish, could sense a presence in the crowd that didn't belong -

The guards at the edge of the dais moved, and Rhys blinked. Then his eyes moved away from the crowd, and his back straightened when a male stepped forward, staring hungrily at the moonwing.

There was a bloody whip hanging from his hand.

My heart tightened, lips parting as nausea washed over me like a tidal wave.

But before the male could take another step, Rhys moved. His motions were quick and smooth as always when he took a step forward and picked the moonwing up by his neck, and I could see the fairie's iridescent eyes flaring with panic as he started to struggle.

Then Rhys' hand closed around his jaw.

My heart stopped and my breath stilled when the crack of bones snapping whipped through the hall.

The moonwing's body went limp, head rolling to the side.

A muscle in Rhys' cheek twitched, his face unmoving as he let the faerie slip to the ground and raised his head, turning around. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the moonwing's lifeless body as the other male moved towards him with a scowl, gripping one of the fairie's shredded wings before he turned to drag him away from the dais and into the shadows, leaving behind a pool of blood on the stone floor.

Something hot streamed over my cheeks as I fought to breathe, and magic started to push against my skin, slowly growing until I had to keep all my focus on keeping it subdued.

My eyes rose, and a cold fist closed around my heart when Rhys sat down next to Amarantha. Her hand drifted towards him, her fingernails dragging lightly over his skin, and I could see the second his eyes clouded over like he had dragged up walls, high, high, higher as Amarantha whispered something with a smile like a viper.

Rhysand nodded once, eyes trained onto the crowd like it could hide the way his shoulders shifted like his body fought to move away.

It was all I needed to straighten my spine and breathe, something beginning to burn under my skin.

☆

I had slinked into the shadows when Amarantha had risen from her throne, Rhys following suit, though there was something in the way his eyes seemed to dull even more when he moved after her.

I lost them in the maze of halls a few times, but something, like a small tug in my chest, kept pulling me back onto the right path, like the golden whisps of magic swirling under my skin had latched onto Rhys, guiding me.

Slipping around a corner, I just caught a glimpse at a door closing. Waiting for a few moments, just to make sure, I slowly started to move, avoiding lanterns and melting into the shadows as I soundlessly slid down the hall until I could disappear into the alcoven right next to the door.

Pressing my back against the cold stone walls, I leaned my temple against the wall and focused on the noises slipping from the room.

For a second, my mind was slow, struggling to place the muffled sounds that seemed to be a female's, harsh and strangely drawn –

My heart stilled.

I could feel my breath, ragged as I stared at the wall ahead, something suddenly filling my throat like the urge to be sick, to stagger away from that door and what was behind it.

I was already half pushing away from the wall when the wave of emotion hit me like a brick. Like someone inside that room had slipped up, had lost control of what kept their feelings locked deep, deep down, because what they were doing right now was a struggle in itself, a struggle like having a hand around your throat that kept you from breathing.

I didn't know how I knew it was him. I just knew that the way his emotions vibrated under my skin, causing my knees to give out and my body to silently slide down the wall to collapse to the ground as I fought for air, was uniquely his.

Rhys was drowning.

I could feel it, feel the way his sense of self and his will to fight dwindled like they were slowly dragged under water. Overrun and fought to their knees by pain.

Pain that felt like ghostly fingernails running over his skin, like actions that broke apart pieces of him and caused guilt to drown him without his limbs fighting.

It was humiliation, and repulsion, and numbness. And fear.

Fear, so overwhelming and all-consuming, it wrapped around my throat like a rope, pulling tighter and tighter as I crouched frozen at the wall, tears streaming down my cheeks and something in my chest shattering silently as I squeezed my eyes shut.

I didn't know how I long I was sitting in the shadows, nor could I place the moment when Rhys' emotions slipped away like he had found the gap in his armor and patched it back up. But the remnants of them still clung to my chest, joining into a heaviness when I could hear movements behind the door.

Quickly and with shaking hands, I pulled myself to my feet, slipping back down the hall and into the shadows at the corner to the next, tear tracks cool against my cheeks when I watched the door open.

My heart stilled as I watched Amarantha appear in the hall, slipping her dress over her legs with a satisfied smile.

Something started swirling under my skin, growing with every second. Power, golden light that raged like fire, roaring and threatening to break free, to unleash and make the mountain collapse into itself as golden light wrapped around Amarantha's throat –

Swallowing, I forced it down with trembling hands.

Not like this.

It had taken years to gather enough information, barely any whispers trickling out of the mountain. Years to figure out that she had the High Lords under her control, chained to the mountain, all while her guards wreaked havoc on the lands outside. Courts withering, faeries dying.

The children from Winter had been the last straw.

I had to find a way to free the High Lords, get back their powers. Attacking Amarantha would just risk something happening to those caught down here, or outside.

Sinking back into the shadows, I watched Amarantha disappear into the other direction. I waited until she was gone, waited some more, just to make sure. Then I slipped down the hall.

The door creaked a little when I pushed it open, and cringing lightly, I hastily slipped through, closing it behind me carefully before raising my head, and my heart skyrocketed.

Rhys was standing at the opposite wall, his bare back towards me and shoulders shifting as he tensed, going rigid. He didn't turn around when he mumbled: “Anything else?”

His deep voice took away my breath, something tightening harshly in my chest at it's roughness.

He sounded defeated.

His name tumbled from my lips before I could stop it, quiet and hoarse and a little shaky.

“Rhys.”

He froze.

I watched as his shoulders straightened. He looked like he was holding his breath, his hands closing so tightly around the shirt in his hands, his knuckles turned white as he stared at the wall ahead, and for a second, I thought I could see a tremble run over his spine.

I took a step forward, whispering: “Rhys?”

His head turned ever so slightly, like he was forcing himself not to turn around but couldn't fully control his body, and I saw the moment he caught onto my scent.

His nose flared, and his limbs went utterly and fully still, like for a second, he even stopped breathing. Then he looked over his shoulder, and I stared at him, felt something surge high in my chest when his gaze found mine.

Rhys blinked, and my bottom lip trembled when his eyes became glossy, one corner of his lips curving slowly. Then he whispered, rough voice broken: “You're not real.”

My heart clenched violently, and I swallowed, staring at him through the haze of pain. Then I moved towards him, slowly but steadily, and I could feel Rhys fight the closer I got, like the instinct to reach out and the fear of reaching right through me were battling in his chest.

Halting a few inches away, stopping to keep myself from moving even though every part of me screamed at me to get closer, I swallowed before carefully reaching out a hand.

When my fingers brushed over his arm, something rippled through Rhys' body. His eyes snapped up from where he had watched my hand almost fearfully, flying to meet mine as his glossed over ones grew wide and his lips parted.

I sniffled, nose crunching as I sent him a smile, wobbly and uneven.

“Not getting rid off me that easily, remember?”, I whispered, and Rhys' hand closed around my wrist to yank me forward, into his arms.

My heart stopped when my chest collided with his.

It felt like I was thrown into one of the dreams that had haunted me for fifty years, dreams in which he'd been there, had grinned at me and teased me and been his gloriously annoying self, dreams I had woken from with a weight on my chest pressing me down, because I could feel the memory of his presence slip through my fingers.

Only now, I didn't wake up, and there was no pressing knowledge somewhere buried in the depth of my mind that it was nothing but a dream.

No, Rhys was there, tall and solid as he wrapped himself around me, clinging to me like I could be ripped away from him any second, and my breath hitched when I could feel the way his body started to tremble.

Something small in my chest shattered silently, and barely suppressing a soft whimper as pressure rose in my throat, I hastily wrapped my arms around his shoulders and held onto him. Held onto him, his skin cool under my mine, muscles taut as a bowstring when my fingers dug into the back of his shoulders and I clung to him, and Rhys laughed, wet and desperate and causing my chest to tighten so harshly, I hiccuped. His hands grabbed at my back, my dress, one finding its way into my hair, and I fought the heavy weight on my chest and the way my voice thickened when I whispered: “Hello.”

Rhys whimpered, his trembling fingers tightening their hold like he tried to drag me closer, like I wasn't already pressed into his chest, his breath shaking like the rest of him when he buried his face in the crook of my neck, and I could feel the second his walls broke. His chest started heaving, and something warm and wet pooled on my skin.

“It's okay.” I squeezed my eyes shut as I held onto him, feeling tears roll over my cheek as the ache in my chest spread, and my voice broke a little when I whispered: “I'm real.”

A shaking sob broke from Rhys' throat, and his fingers dug into my skin when he breathed out with a shudder that shook his body. Then he pulled back, nose pressing into my hair for a second, and when I raised my head, his hand slipped up to curl around the back of my neck, and Rhys pressed his forehead against mine. His quick, unsteady breaths made my heart skip, and I forced open my eyes, staring at him and his scrunched eyebrows and the tears silently rolling over his cheeks as he fought for air.

Quickly, I slid my hands down to press them against his sides, feeling my voice crack a little when I whispered: “Breathe.”

Rhys' eyes flew open, and the world staggered when his violet iris met mine, shimmering with tears and everything shining through them, like a dam inside of him had broken. He stared at me like I was the night sky he hadn't seen for fifty years, his fingers curling into my hair.

His eyes tracked the dried tears on my cheeks, and then his body went awfully still.

For a second, Rhys gazed down at me, his throat working as he swallowed harshly and his grip slackened a little. His eyes flickered over mine, and his voice, rough and fragile, broke a little when he mumbled: “How long have you been outside?”

I tried to breathe against the heaviness in my chest as I stared up at him, losing the fight against the way my throat closed as my vision blurred and my bottom lip wobbled.

My silence was answer enough.

Rhys' fingers twitched, and I could feel him freeze, pulling back, but I dug my fingers into his bare skin and swallowed harshly, a tear running over my cheek when I whispered, voice shaking: “I'm going to kill her.”

Rhys' eyes followed the tear, widening slightly, and suddenly, he looked panicked.

“You have to leave.”

“Rhys –“

“You have to get out of here, if she finds you with me –“ His breath quickened, his wide eyes causing something to squeeze my heart harshly.

In over a hundred years, I had never seen him like this, so utterly and completely afraid; fear, sheer frantic panic rolling off him in waves, completely ungarded -

“Indeed.”

I could feel the way Rhys froze under my hands when my eyes flew over to the door.

Could feel the wave of his unbridled dread crash over me when the female in the door smiled, her eyes flashing and blood-red hair glimmering in the candle light.

“Now look at that…”

☆

My knees dragged over the stone floors as the guards hauled me into the great, cavernous hall, Amarantha sauntering after us, Rhys behind her as he struggled against the males containing him, his teeth bared even as I could feel, smell the panic rolling off of him.

I tried to reach him, but the powers raging under my skin were slowly slipping out of my control, roaring at the way I could feel him struggle.

“Drop her.” Amarantha waved her hand casually, raising her brows as the guards dumped me to the ground in the middle of the hall and turning towards Rhys.

“You know, I really thought you'd have better taste.” Her tone was mocking, her smile amused. “A servant… and a faerie no less.”

Rhys fought against the guards holding him, but I could see the way his movements were restrained, like she was containing him. He looked like he was vibrating with unbridled fury, but there was something burning under the surface as I forced myself to my feet, something that made my heart tighten harshly.

Amarantha tutted softly, smiling widely. Her eyes raked over Rhys' face, and they sharpened. Then she raised a brow.

“Oh.”

Something skipped high and harsh against my ribs, and one corner of her lips quirked.

“Now that's interesting. Is it possible…” She tipped her head to the side, and Rhys grew rigid.

“You care for her. Oh now, now.” Amarantha laughed, and it rung through the air. “How quaint.” She smiled widely, and it sent a shiver down my spine as her eyes danced.

“The mighty High Lord and the faerie. I wonder…” Sauntering towards me, she reached out, her nails lightly raking over my jaw to tip it up, and I hissed at her, causing her to chuckle.

“Well, she is feisty. Still.” Her head tipped to the side, considering me like prized piece of cattle, and Rhys' struggle grew as she slowly started to smile and raised her brows mildly as she turned to look at him.

“I think you need a reminder who you belong to.”

Moving back, she lightly dipped her head, and someone kicked the back of my legs, causing them to buckle.

Sharp pain shot through my knees when I crashed to the floor, and I could feel my dress shift. Then rough hands pushed me forward and the fabric was ripped open, slipping down my back.

My heart skipped high into my throat, and I tried to reach out on instinct to cover myself, but my wrists were seized, forced away from my body.

I could hear the sound of a struggle, and when my eyes rose, Rhys was trying to tear himself away from the guards holding him, a terrifying snarl on his face. But Amarantha just smiled and placed a finger on her lips.

Iron shackles closed around my wrists, dragging my arms apart until I was kneeling, and my fingers started shaking as I tried to contain the magic brimming under the surface, the golden light trying to break out to rage around me. I forced up my head, and Amarantha raised a brow.

There was movement at the corner of my eye. Then something struck my back with such force, my body was thrown forward.

Burning pain seared over my skin, and a scream forced its way from my throat.

My back arched, trying to twist away, pain pulsing through my body and leaving my muscles trembling, and Rhys roared.

With one mighty rip, he broke away from the guards trying to contain him, but before he could make it even a few feet, Amarantha struck, and Rhys crumbled to the ground.

“No!” I struggled against the iron chains, magic surging under my skin as pressure build behind my eyes and an angry sound ripped from my throat.

“How precious.” Amarantha sounded bored and a little disdainful, waving her hand as she turned away, and two guards grabbed Rhys' arms, dragging him up until he was kneeling, forcing his head up.

He was bleeding, his brow cut, but it was nothing compared to the anguish in his eyes as they found mine, wild and desperate.

Fighting against the tug in my chest, I squeezed my burning eyes shut for a second before opening them again, staring at him as my body trembled.

“I,”, my voice broke with strain, “can take it.”

Amarantha chuckled. “Oh dear.”

Another hit struck my back, the whip slashing the air and through my skin, and a low scream tore from my throat. Tears brimmed at the corner of my eyes, my breath trembling at the pain pulsing through my back and into my body, and from holding onto the whirling storm in my chest.

“I doubt it.” Amarantha's eyes were glimmering with wicked delight, and as the next lash hit my back, I forced my head up, my body shaking as I gritted my teeth and fought the tears pooling from my eyes as they found the male behind her.

My heart stilled.

Went silent in my chest at the way he stared at me, head pulled back by his hair as the guards forced him to watch, his eyes wide, body rigid like he was gripped in an iron fist. There was something swirling in his gaze, not just anguish; pure torment, and intertwined with it was something else, something that reached so deep, I lost my breath.

No more.

The words seemed to whisper through my mind, through the fog and the pain, growing stronger as the air around me started to flimmer.

No more.

My eyes pierced into Rhys', a tremble going through my body. Then something settled in my chest.

No more.

Golden light bloomed around me as I let go. Allowed the whispers of magic to swarm me, flittering over my back, their whispering touch gentle, and I could feel the wounds close, leaving nothing behind but even skin.

The hum seemed to grow still, until I could feel the power in every inch of my body, pulsing and whirling, and Amarantha's voice reached me, sharp as she called to her guards: “Stop her, now -“

A wave of golden light erupted from my body.

Amarantha and the guards holding me got ripped off their feet, flung through the air, the males crashing into the walls as Amarantha slammed into the steps of the dais.

And as the ground started to tremble, the mountain itself rumbling like thunder, the shackles fell of my wrists and I pushed myself to my feet, golden swirls of magic building around me like a hurricane as rage carried me.

The doors flew open as guards streamed in, dozens and dozens more, barking orders as they took position and advanced, and power surged through my body.

The ground shook, then thick vines bursted from the stone floors. They slithered through the air, wrapping themselves around the guards and flinging them through the room, wrapping them up tight and engulfing them, their screams drowned as they turned into giant trees. Weapons turned into slithering branches, closing around their owner's arms and throats, armor grew green moss like treebark as I dodged a sword blow in a swift movement. Arrows flying at me turned into bursts of petals as I dove and slipped the guard's sword out of his hand, slashing it over his throat in one precise movement, and another wave of magic pulsed through my body, sending a wave that tore the remaining guards off their feet, swords and armor clattering when they crashed into the walls and onto the floors.

Raising my head, I felt the light around me flimmer, illuminating the sword in my hand for another moment as I slowly straightened, power surging through my body as the golden whisps began to disperse and I felt my breath again, quick and heavy. Something flickered in my chest when my gaze darted over the throne room, trees growing from stone floors, their branches stretching high up the cavernous ceiling, petals drifting over the ground and unconcious guards strewn across the floor.

The rage in my chest slowly washed away, a deep exhale leaving me, and looking over my shoulder, I felt something rise in my chest.

Rhys was still kneeling on the ground, having caught himself as the guards holding him had been torn across the room. His eyes were wide as his gaze darted over the hall, then they found mine, and something skipped so harshly into my throat, I lost my breath.

Rhys was staring at me like I had ripped open the mountain to show him the stars.

Something rose in my chest, fluttering like a hurricane, and turning around, I quickly stepped over a guard's legs and held out a hand, pulling him to his feet.

Slowly straightening, Rhys stared down at me, and his eyes began to shine in a way that made my breath catch.

There was a light flash of silver from the corner of my eye. I turned my head, and for a moment, time slowed.

Without thinking, I moved, the sword slipping from my hand and clattering to the ground as my fingers closed around Rhys' elbows and dragged him with me as I turned, turned until he was facing the dais and I was in the way, the way of –

Sharp pain struck my back.

I could feel my eyes widen, how time staggered just like my heart when hot, all consuming pain slowly spread from a point somewhere right beneath my shoulder blades. Then my eyes found Rhys', and the way he stared at me, his eyes growing wide, made time fall back into place.

My knees toppled lightly when pain crashed over me like a tidal wave, and Rhys dove forward to catch me. His pupils were blown wide as a wave of panic washed over me that wasn't my own, terrifying and mindnumbing as his hands frantically moved over my body, gripping my hips, pushing up my chin.

The pulsing pain from my back seemed to slowly consume my body, and my heart stuttered.

“No.” Rhys' voice ripped its on wound through my chest, disbelieving, hollow and horrified. His eyes darted over my face, all the color draining from his features, but he looked a bit blurred, like he was drifting away from me. I tried to grab at his chest, my movements strangely slow.

“Go.” My voice sounded strained to my own ears, but I forced myself to focus on Rhys' face, trying to fight past the pain the look on his face caused in my chest. His brows twitched as his eyes, panicked and frantic, darted over my face, and I pressed: “Get. Her.”

Rhys stared at me. Then something shifted in his eyes, beginning to glow, and his head rose, a terrifying growl rumbling from his chest.

“You.”

His hands slipped away from my arms and I could feel him move past me, something skipping high in my chest as I staggered lightly, dropping to my knees.

Forcing myself to straighten, I tried to suppress a whimper when I reached my hand up my back, twisting and feeling a rough sound built in my throat at the pain the movement sent cursing through my body.

My fingers slipped over something cold, and with a pressed sound, I pulled the blade out of my body. It clattered onto the stone, and the floor swayed under my knees when for a second, all I could see were black spots dancing before my eyes as something hot ran over my pulsing back.

Behind me, I heard the sound of fighting, snarls that made the hairs at the back of my neck rise, and I forced my head up to look over my shoulder. My vision swam, and my breath stilled when I heard the sound of a body hitting the ground heavily, heart rising into my throat as my eyes focused.

Rhys was kneeling on the ground before Amarantha, a sword pressed against the back of his neck as she snarled at him, hands curled into his hair, forcing his head back. I could see the fight in the strain in his shoulders, like he was battling her in his mind, but his body was trembling.

“Oh, I do like you on your knees.” Amarantha bared her teeth, and something shifted in my chest, blooming into a soundless roar as I pushed myself to my feet.

My fingers closed around the hilt of the sword I had dropped, the heavy blade beginning to glow in my grip, and Amarantha raised her head and scoffed.

“Don't be ridiculous.” She snarled as she stepped away, Rhys caught frozen, limbs trembling in a vain effort to free himself. “I posses the powers of all the High Lords of Prythian. No iron, no steel can defeat me, not even your powers. I have killed Fae for centuries.” Her eyes flickered over me, her lips curling. “You're no match for me, little faerie.”

Golden whisps of magic began to rise around me, the branches of the trees growing out of the stone rustling with a harsh wind, the vines creaking as they slithered, bowing into my direction as I walked towards Amarantha, magic beginning to grow under my skin until I could feel it glow.

I deflected the first blow of Amarantha's sword as it came crashing down, the force making the mountain rumble. Then I swerved to the right, blade slashing through the air as the space around us started to vibrate with power and my sword began to shine brighter and brighter.

“Give up!” Amarantha's voice shook the hall like thunder. “You'll never defeat me, you're a faerie, you'll just -”

My heart rose, and the mountain sang.

When my next blow came crashing down, it splintered Amarantha's sword in two with a blast of golden power. She dropped the useless hilt, eyes growing wide as her head whipped up, and my sword sank into her chest, deeper and deeper until we were face to face.

"I'm not just any faerie,”, I whispered.

A surge of power rippled through the air when I pulled the sword from Amarantha's chest, and I could feel the wards trembling. Then they shattered, the whole mountain groaning as I whirled around and swung the sword, the blade whizzing through the air and cleanly cutting off Amarantha's head.

Blood spattered, and with a thud, the female's lifeless body dropped to the ground.

Breathing heavily, I straightened, and my sword clattered as it hit the floor. The golden shimmer around me pulled back into my body, and suddenly, the world tilted.

My knees gave out, and I would have crashed down the steps if I hadn't been caught, arms wrapping around me and a familiar scent washing over me, causing my heart to jump weakly against my ribs.

I thought I heard a voice, deep and familiar and utterly panicked, calling my name as a warm hand closed around the side of my face, shaking me. But my lids were suddenly heavy, blinking becoming harder with the second. My body felt a bit like it was beginning to float; no more pain, only a strange, calm feeling, my limbs too heavy to move.

Through the fog, I heard the voice, thick and trembling, words not quite reaching me. Then something warm pressed against my temple, nudging my cheek.

“Stay with me.”

☆

Stay with me.

My eyes opened with a flutter, and I sucked in a sharp breath.

My gaze was blurry at first, but I thought I saw a high ceiling, far above me, the branches of trees, and felt arms holding me, propping me up against a warm, solid body that suddenly grew rigid.

Blinking, I breathed out before letting my head slowly roll to the side, and my eyes met another pair.

My heart skipped softly against my ribs at the sight of violet, mixed with starlight in eyes gleaming with tears, widening when they found mine as their owner became completely still.

I blinked, feeling slowly seeping back into my body, and a small sound broke from the back of my throat.

“Ow,”, I mumbled softly.

Rhys stared at me. Stared from shimmering eyes that were blown wide, wet tear tracks on his cheeks. His hand cradling my jaw was trembling, and something shifted gently in my chest at the way he seemed to fight for air. Then he blinked, and the tears in his eyes welled as his lips curved and a sobbed laugh left him, deep and shaking my body as Rhys dropped his head, his arms slipping around me until he was clinging to me, holding me to his chest as he pressed his nose against my temple.

I could feel his shuddering exhale, and how tears began to soak my hair, and something rose in my chest, fluttering wildly as it surged and pressure built behind my eyes, my fingers trembling as I curled them into his arm holding me.

Rhys' grip tightened, then he lightly pulled back his head. His hand slipped to rest against the side of my neck, and my breath hitched, stumbling until it stilled when he slowly started to smile at me. Smiled brighter and brighter, wide and radiant until deep creases formed in his cheeks and his violet eyes twinkled like a sky full of stars, and his voice was quiet and a bit hoarse when Rhys whispered thickly: “Hello, starshine.”

☆

Stepping out into the cool morning air, I breathed in deeply, closing my eyes for a second.

My body was still aching a little, my head thrumming, but it was duller now, like it was slowly ebbing away. The magic under my skin was no longer raging and whirling, instead buzzing softly from the healing I had done in the past few hours, Fae and faeries alike.

The wards had come down, the second Amarantha had died. Shortly after, the doors to the hall had burst open, and Rhys had gripped me tighter when all the High Lords had stormed inside, their newly returned powers thrumming just like the one's of the male holding me.

He had reluctantly left me alone, only after several insurances that I was fine and some mild teasing threats, his swagger returning to him as his mask slipped into place as he had joined the High Lords standing over Amarantha's body, her severed head turned towards the ceiling, her eyes staring lifelessly into the air.

Dropping my shoulders and stretching them slowly, my skin tingled gently right under my shoulder blades, and like instinct, I reached back, twisting my arm until I could brush my fingers over the spot where only a few hours ago, a dagger had nearly, maybe taken my life.

The skin was soft there now, and unblemished, as Rhys had showed me with a quick glimpse into my head.

Like there had never been any wound in the first place.

Letting my arm fall back to my side, I breathed out again before turning, and my heart did a soft skip when my gaze landed on the familiar male a bit away, standing on a ledge, head tipped back as he stared up at the sky that was slowly turning from a pale blue into a soft pink.

My heart skipped, and I hesitated for a second, then I carefully stepped onto the big ledge and softly called: “Rhys?”

My quiet voice carried through the cool air, and when he looked over his shoulder, my chest tightened harshly.

Tears were streaming over his face, his eyes shimmering as they reflected the sky, and I moved, darting towards him and stretching to slip my arms around his shoulders.

Rhys breathed out with a shudder, and his hands closed around my waist, pulling me tightly into his chest. Then he turned his head and buried his face in the crook of my neck. I could feel his tears drip onto my skin as soundless sobs left his body trembling, and my heart tightened harshly as my eyes welled.

Quickly pressing my nose against his shoulder, I let his pain wash over me, my chest aching as tears trickled over my cheeks and I buried my fingers in his hair.

By the time Rhys' sobs had faded away and the tears on my shoulder had dried as he just held me, the sun had started to rise on the horizon.

Carefully pulling back a bit, I looked up at him, finding his eyes already on my face, raw with emotion I couldn´t quite decipher.

“Go home,”, I whispered softly, and a shudder went through Rhys' body, his hands tightening their grip around my waist for a moment.

His eyes searched mine, then he blinked.

“Come with me.”

I blinked, feeling my lips part in surprise as I stared up at him. There was no hesitation in his eyes, no doubt, nothing. Just something that looked a bit like a soft, feverish plea.

I blinked, and warmth slowly spread through my body, something closing gently around my throat.

“I can't,”, I mumbled, and Rhys' grip loosened, causing me to quickly curl my fingers into his shirt.

“No, I just,”, I huffed a little, frowning at him, "not yet." Breathing out, I tipped my head to the side and sent him a soft, helpless smile. “There are still so many in there who need my help. And in the courts. I can't just –“

Rhys exhaled, and my heart skipped into my throat when he dropped his head to rest his forehead against mine, his hands gently closing around my waist.

“You're awfully inconsistent, you know that?”, he whispered, and his rough voice sent a soft tingle over my skin. “You claim to not like the High Fae, and yet, you're still helping them.”

“I know.” I gently tapped my finger against his chest. “I mean, I constantly help you, what's that all about?"

Rhys huffed, and I grinned lightly before pulling back and mumbling: “They've suffered enough for a while.”

Rhys blinked, and his eyes moved over my face, something beginning to glow gently in his iris.

“Promise that when you're finished, you'll come to Velaris.”

Staring up at him, I felt my heart flutter genly against my ribs. Then I blinked and slowly smiled, soft and cheeky.

“I promise.”

Rhys' eyes flickered over mine, and something tightened in my chest, my heart skipping when I quickly said: “Promise you'll find me if you need me?”

The male's gaze moved over my face, and slowly, one corner of his lips rose, just the tiniest bit.

“Promise,”, he mumbled, his deep voice sending a soft tingle down my spine, and I breathed out, a weight slipping from my shoulders.

For a second, I stared up at him, then, before I could stop myself, I stretched to press my lips onto his cheek.

Rhys' grip around me tightened, and my heart rose into my throat when I allowed myself to linger for just a second. Then I let myself sink back to the ground, and my breath hitched when Rhys dropped his head like he was trying to follow me.

The male blinked and slowly straightened again, staring down at me, a look in his eyes that made my chest squeeze gently.

Slowly, I took a step backwards, sending him a soft, crooked smile as I lightly poked his ribs.

“Go.” Warmth spread through my chest as I raised my brows. “They've been waiting long enough.”

Rhys exhaled, a weight seeming to slip from his shoulders, and I turned around. I could feel his eyes track me as I made my way back towards the entrance in the mountain.

When I looked back before stepping through, he was gone like the night breeze.

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @stayinglow-exploringworlds @tcris2020

#rhysand #rhys #rhysand x reader #rhysand imagine #rhysand/reader #rhys x reader #rhys imagine #rhys/reader #acotar x reader #acowar #acotar #acomaf #rhysand x female!reader #rhys x female!reader #starshine #lalacliffthorne

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luvfy0dor · 3 months

Text

“Hands Under My Sweatshirt, Baby Kiss it Better ♡⁠˖” Fyodor Dostoevsky x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

Warnings; BSD Spoilers, mentions of death, ch. 112 events, soft!fyodor

Description; Having a nightmare about your partner dying and waking up to him comforting you

A/n; i'm supposed to be doing a saq rn but I COULDNT NOT POST ON NEW CHAPTER DAY AHHHH I WANNA BE FYODORS MEDIEVAL HOUSE SPOUSE SO BAD IN EVERY LIFE TIME

ೃ⁀➷

Everything felt so real- you watched as your lover got into a helicopter with a briefcase containing an antidote, expecting a swift escape from Mersault only to be impaled by an iron rod. You watched as his eyes widened and his slender fingers wrapped around the pole. Blood trickled from both the new piercing in his midsection and between his lips while his breathing became shaky. He glared at another man in your dream who has been rendered faceless while speaking, although everything in the dream was silent so you couldn't make out any particular words or sentences.

The night terror didn't stop at your boyfriend being impaled, as a matter of fact it made you watch as the helicopter was messily flown directly into a tower and burst into flames with Fyodor still inside. You tried to hurry towards the aircraft, but it exploded before you could reach it. The blast didn't effect you, not scorching you or propelling you backwards at all, but letting you stand there and watch as all hope of getting Fyodor out of there shattered like glass. The crackling embers of fire surrounding you gradually became accompanied by a soft whisper-one that was all too familiar and thick with sleep. You were still in shock from the dream when your eyes snapped open, your legs curled inward with Fyodors chest to your back and his hand soothingly rubbing your side. "It's okay, Moya Lyubov, what happened?" He asks you, his eyebrows furrowed and his breath warm against your ear as he presses a chaste kiss to the nape of your neck. "Nightmare. You're...you're okay." You murmur, relief taking over your heart and mind. You rolled over, your body pushing his backwards a bit. "Ofcourse I'm alright. I'm not going anywhere, y/n, I promise. Was the dream about me getting hurt?" He correctly assumes, his tired gaze fixed on your own. "Mmm, worse, dying." You say, your heart finally returning to a steady pace.

"Ah, that makes more sense. You were very restless, you know." He tells you. "It's easy to tell when you have nightmares, you're like a dog. You make some distressed noises and kick your legs." He says with a grin. You sigh and close your eyes, pressing your head to his chest. "It's better than being stiff as a board though, 'cause that means you'll pick up on it and be all sweet and affectionate." You say. Your arms wrap around his torso like they would with a stuffed toy. "I'd say I'm rather affectionate regardless. You're just needy." He looks down at you and pushes your head out from his chest, kissing your forehead while his other hand slides up the back of your sweater and rests on the small of your back. You hum and twist the fabric of his tee-shirt between your pointer and thumb. "M'not needy." You roll your eyes and look up at him through your eyelashes. "If you insist." He says, closing his eyes and readying himself to delve back into a dreamless sleep. "Mhm..g'night, Fedya, I love you." You say, pressing a quick kiss to his lips that gets his eyes to open right back up. He kisses you back and smiles faintly. "Good night, Y/n, I love you too, sleep well." His arm drapes over your side with the blanket strewn messily over the both of you. Now you could sleep a little more peacefully with the reassurance of your lovers presence in your arms, and more importantly, his safety.

A/n; i speedran this tbh, so I'm sorry if it's not great. Also, would if I made like,,, a taglist would any of y'all wanna be on it because I see so many people do it and it looks cool but I've been too nervous to like say anything or ask bc I don't want people to be like "ew no wtf" THATS LITERALLY NOT GONNA HAPPEN BUT LIKE IDK I'm scared djsjjfjekekak

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kisakis-boyfriend · 7 months

Note

Hey! I just wanted to rant/thirst to you about Freminet, so spoiler warning for some of his locked/upcoming voice lines bc I’m going absolutely insane over how he manages to flirt so submissively. Freminet may be truly sweet and innocent, but you can’t tell me that he isn’t purposefully advertising his subby nature. This guy automatically declines tasks from ppl other than his family, but offers himself up to “be of some use to you” in the first greeting 🤨. He straight up asks for orders with zero shame but it’s really the subtle things that are making me obsessed. I can’t really explain properly but it’s kind of like how a brat baits a dom into being more aggressive except he does it in a soft way?? He’s almost one of those mildly manipulative uwu boys going “I’m so shy 🥺👉👈 plz fuck me.”

Example A: Probably the best known example of this is one of his ascension lines where he goes “You didn't have to do this for me, you know. I'd obey you regardless.” Wtf bro, you can’t just say that?!? Being a bad liar doesn’t excuse you from not even trying to hide the horny. Please stop before I bend you over. I know some ppl interpret this as sad but imo it’s one of the most boldly sexual things to come out of his mouth.

Example B: Freminet mentions always having a home at the House of Hearth. And when you ask him to join your party he either says “At your command.” or eagerly asks us to take him (with us). But in the last option he replies with “Well, *fake ass sigh* I’ve got nowhere to go…” like he’s actively fantasizing about us making him come (along). I can just tell he’s smiling while saying this shit, he ain’t slick.

Example C: In an upcoming event the Traveler jokes about wanting to try on his helmet. Immediately the whore behavior jumps out and Freminet responds with “Well, if it’s an order…” Then there’s legit an option to say back “Yep, that’s an order”. Excuse me?!? Are you fucking kidding?!? I am actually gonna go feral rn. Like ofc Paimon interrupts saying “Hey, now’s not the time!” Paimon knows Freminet won’t get anything done once I slut him out like he’s obviously begging to be. “We don’t want to bother him now.” Bother him??? Bitch, he won’t be able to talk or walk once I’m done with him.

Anyways, that’s the end of my rant, but like wtf Genshin? Atp they might as well just let us give the kinky mf a contract and a collar

Bonus Points: The way Freminet will use his soft, raspy voice to randomly bust out a line more romantic than the actual poet characters in-game is crazy. Traveler just said goodnight like a normal person, wdym "May your dreams be as dazzling as the starry night above the ocean, and your dreamless nights be naught but filled with serene respite." Excuse me Prince Charming, how the hell am I supposed to go to bed without you in it now?

HKJFKSFSBDKDJSF

Anon please, I thoroughly enjoyed your analysis and now I cannot unhear these voice lines as anything except subby begging behavior 😵‍💫

Freminet has us all whipped with his pretty voice, short-shorts, and flirting. He knows exactly what he's doing and has no shame, it seems

#mailbox #thirst #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #freminet #freminet smut #sub freminet #genshin thirst #gn reader #gender neutral reader

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kuro-is-doodlin · 24 days

Text

Still alive

[Spoiler for in stars and time, up to the end of act 4] [CW for exhaustion and self neglect]

Loop 1030

Today, you got up.

It was hard, but you managed to stumble back into Dormont. People are looking at you weird from far away, But you can’t hear any sound, you can’t even hear the fishing one giggle.

You probably look miserable.

Is it because of your uncertain steps? The way you swing from side to side, as if you’re almost falling every time? Or maybe it’s the light in your eyes. The one that disappeared a long time ago. That hope you gave up on. It's all a waste of time..

Time..

You have more than enough of it, and yet, it’s almost as if you’re running out.. …

A voice wakes you up from your thinking. Mira is screaming your name, she’s_.. crying…

Why is she so tall?.. Has she always been that much taller than you? That’s weird.

…

..oh.

You collapsed, that’s why.

She’s screaming for help, trying to make you react. You can feel her warm tears fall on your face.

You flinch.

The following events are a little fuzzy, you can’t hear or really see much of it, your body is so heavy. But you think you recognize Isa’s voice, and.. His arms, around you, as he picks you up gently. It’s nice.. It’s.. comforting.

You can’t help but drift off into a dreamless slumber.

#exhaustion #self neglect #still alive au #in stars and time #in stars and time fanfic #in stars and time siffrin #in stars and time au #isat #isat fanfic #isat au #isat siffrin #isat mirabelle #isat spoilers #Next part of this tomorrow #have fun crying!#kuro out

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witchthewriter · 8 months

Text

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

Warnings: swearing, possible spoilers for the game, nsfw included, mentions of parents dying and abuse but only briefly

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

ENFJ

Hufflepuff

Neutral Good

Libra Sun, Cancer Moon, Aries Rising

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・This man/druid/male has BIG HANDS. And is incredibly tall; 6'5 - so no matter how tall you are, he's still going to be a giant when next to you

・Halsin peppers kisses on your cheeks, nose, forehead, temple, etc.

・So it's pretty easy to say that Physical Touch is his main love language. Halsin adores affection.

・His Pet Peeve are people who don't help those that need aid. He's had a lot of fights with Astarion because the vampire overlooked

・You fell for Halsin first (not meaning to, but his largeness... the way he was so kind to everyone, especially those smaller than him, it was easy to fall in love).

・You didn't expect anything to happen.

・A male such as he had so many people he could choose from, so you were happy to be friends with him.

・And during your journey, there were many nights where he sat beside you, his body warming yours.

・There, he would tell you stories for hours, the fire dwinding as he spoke. Your eyes fluttered closed after an hour and a half of his deep voice beckoning you to slumber.

・You woke up with Halsin still with you, but he had draped a blanket over you, laid back and let you climb ontop of him.

・It became a normal activity.

・Story time and falling asleep with Halsin.

・Your sleep was always dreamless and every morning you awoke refreshed. For the first time in years.

・But he had fallen in love with you the second time you had conversed. It was your passion, hidden behind your introverted nature, that he fell in love with.

・A person who didn't mind being alone, or didn't have to talk the loudest.

・You were a fresh of breath air for him. And Halsin decided that he couldn't let you leave without telling you how he felt.

・It was a full moon when he confessed his love. The stars shone up above, the air was warm and sweet. It felt truly magical (thanks to Gale...)

・And when he gently clasped your face in his hands, and let his feelings be known - you nearly fainted.

"I was not expecting this, have I offended?" His deep voice said as he hoisted you onto your feet.

"What? No - No! I ... I feel the same-"

・And from then on, you became inseparable.

・He loves animals.

・And when you both settle down together, your home is very busy. With so many different types of animals, sometimes even a kid or two. You help them as best as you can, but their parents were either dead or abusive.

・So Halsin took them out in the yard and showed them how to do basic things.

・Some have magic, some do not.

・And sometimes you felt very overwhelmed, but Halsin understood. And he never pushes you. He tells the kids that you need your alone time, and some people are like that.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Black Cat (You) x Golden Retriever (Halsin)

Always Hold Grudges (You) x Forgives Too Easily (Halsin)

Character That Thinks They're Already Dating Even Though They're Not (Halsin)

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Married Couple Who Make Everyone Cringe

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Dance of the Druids by Bear McCreary

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞 No one under the age of 18 past this point, I bloody mean it.

・Breeding kink

・Big big breeding kink. Doesn't matter if you don't have that anatomy, the dirty talk is heavily centred on that

・He lasts for a long while. Isn't satiated until round four, but each time he makes sure you cum first. Your pleasure is more important than his (in his mind)

・Likes when you grab, grip, scratch and pull. He especially likes when you bite his bottom lip

・When he's about to cum, he'll bite onto your body, just to taste you.

・Although he has a big sex drive, he would never push you to have more sex.

・He's desperate to make you feel safe with him. It would kill him if you didn't fully trust him.

・He has a very, very large cock. Around 10 inches when erect. It was an ... adjustment, trying to work with it.

・Halsin loves the smell of you, so whenever you aren't with him, he'll get one of your shirts and have it across his face while he jacks off.

#witchthewriter #headcanons #halsin #halsin headcanons #halsin bg3 #halsin bg3 headcanons #personal aesthetic #astrology #mbti #zodiac #witch the writer's headcanons #bg3 #astarion #baldur's gate #bg3 spoilers

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imsofthelp · 9 months

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JJK 236 SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT

Gojo x reader angst. Not proofred, I’m in shambles, refuse to believe this. I’m so sorry my sunshine.

It was a cold night when you both laid in the balcony of your shared apartment. It was in the suburbs, so the night sky was visible. Little by little, darkness swallowed all the rays of golden sunshine and what seemed to be millions of stars lit up his handsome face. You turned to him softly, a hand reaching out for him, yet stopping.

Satoru always had his infinity off when he was with you, yet there was still hesitation. The white-haired man turned to you, ocean blue eyes managing to fit so many emotions in just a single fleeting glance. He reached out first, carefully touching your cold hand.

"What’s on your mind?” he asked softly.

When he was with you, in the comfort of your shared home, he didn’t need to pretend. No jokes, no tricks, no faked cheery personality. He didn’t need to be the strongest when he was with you. You simply needed him. Satoru was enough, flaws and hurts, pain and suffering and all the mangled, torn up bits of him that would push away anyone else. You stayed. You always stayed. Satoru wasn’t perfect, but he was yours and that was enough.

The wind blew through his hair, the strands flying into his perfect face as he smiled gently, still awaiting your answer.

“Can you promise me something, Satoru?”

He didn’t even draw a breath before you got your answer.

“Anything.”

You stayed quiet for a moment. Was what you’re about to say too much? Would someone, up there above in the night sky, mock you and laugh? A mere mortal asking for a promise from a man akin to god. You hoped they wouldn’t, granting you salvation, if even only for tonight.

“Please promise you’ll always come back to me.”

This time, Satoru hesitated. His eyes once again focused on yours and he wrapped you up in a comforting embrace. His breaths were soft and warm on your skin as you closed your eyes. Did the gods already laugh? A flash of lightning came down from the sky, illuminating Gojo’s concerned face.

Perhaps it was their warning, a sign to stop asking for so much. But was it really too much?

Satoru softly kissed you, his lips feeling like heaven on yours. It took a moment for him to pull away, a smile on his pale face, as if concern shown before was nothing but a trick of your mind.

“You know I always come back to you.”

After a while, you slipped into numb, dreamless sleep in your embrace. Gojo carried you back to your shared bed, pulling you closer to him, as if afraid that you’d disappear.

What you weren’t aware of, is that he was praying to the same gods. A life with you, nothing more would be enough for him. The sun came up slowly, and Gojo knew that his prayers would not be answered.

***

You clutched your lover’s body to yours, deep sobs wretching their way out of your throat.

The world seemed silent as your whispers of promises to fix him up, to make everything okay again, trailed off into the night.

Nobody would answer you now. For the first time ever, his body was cold to touch.

You screamed and screeched at everyone, trying to get close.

“He has his infinity off! Do-don’t! Don’t fucking touch him!”

Nothing was ever going to be fine again. No… ‘Fine’ was not the right word to use. You were never going to be whole. Tonight, the gods and monsters ripped away a part of your soul, the one that has crawled inside you and taken up so much more space than your own.

You looked up to the inky black sky, as if to say one last prayer. To make Satoru un-break his promise. To make him come back safe and sound, like he was always meant to.

There were twice as many stars as usual.

#jjk 236 #gojo x reader #gojo angst #gojo x reader angst #bawled my eyes out what’s up guys

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midnightwriter21 · 11 months

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THE PAST, THE PRESENT, & THE AFTERMATH~ Muichiro x Reader Series

The Past Pt 2~

characters: Muichiro x Reader, Yuichiro

warnings: swordsmith village spoilers!! blood, injuries, implied character death

AN: not a lot of muichiro x reader action in this one! but i can promise some reallllll angst in the next one hehe

word count: 815

pt 1

That night Muichiro rolls out the extra futon that they keep for you right next to his, while you fill a basin with water in case anyone needs a drink during the night. It’s hot, so Yuichiro decides to leave the door open so that the air would circulate throughout the house while you all slept. With all preparations for the night finished, you lay down to go to sleep.

“Good night, Yui. Good night, Mui.” You say to both boys, barely hearing their mumbled responses before falling into a dreamless sleep.

It isn’t but a few hours later when you wake up to the feeling of being stared at. When your eyes peel themselves open, you look around the room, finding Muichiro standing at the basin of water you had filled and Yuichiro sitting up straight in his futon. Both boys have their eyes trained on the silhouette of a person standing in the open doorway. You turn your head and your eyes lock with the figure.

The man’s- no. The monster’s gaze makes your blood run cold.

Standing tall with a twisted grin that can only be described as absolutely ferocious, it speaks, “Just a couple of brats, huh?”

Its voice is low and raspy, and the words that come out next send a chill down your spine, “No matter… food is food.”

For a moment, it was as if time itself had frozen. The four of you all staring at each other. Then, in a matter of seconds, all hell breaks loose. The monster, that you now recognize as demon, raises a clawed hand intent on bringing it down on Muichiro. You scream his name in terror, the attack hits, but it hits the wrong brother. Yuichiro leapt in front of Muichiro taking the hit full on. The attack sliced his arm, separating it completely from his shoulder, and from the force of the attack the severed arm flew across the room, hitting the wall with a sickening ‘smack’ and slinging blood across both you and Muichiro’s faces.

Screaming in horror, Muichiro grabs hold of his injured brother attempting to pull him away from the demon, you leap from your futon grabbing onto the fabric of Yuichiro’s shirt to help. Together, you and Muichiro back yourselves and Yuichiro into the far corner of the room.

Your mind races with panic. With your backs to the wall there is nowhere for you to go. Nowhere for you to hide. Yui is bleeding out fast. There is nothing you can do except wait for your inevitable demise at the hands of the demon.

It raises a clawed hand once again, releasing a chilling laugh at the terrified expressions plastered across your faces. Thinking quickly, you push Muichiro and Yuichiro forward, before throwing yourself to the side just as the demon launches its attack. Muichiro and Yuichiro land on top of the futon from the force of your push, and the claws of the demon lodge itself into the flesh of your shoulder as you scream in pain.

At your pained cry Muichiro picks himself up off the futon to look at you. The sight of your now blood-soaked shirt and tear-stained face along with his brother being on the brink of death releases something in Muichiro. Something he had never felt before. A loud sorrowful yet rage filled yell releases itself from his throat as he launches himself at the demon, knocking it off of you and ripping its claws from your shoulder.

When the claws dislodge from your shoulder, the bleeding worsens. Large amounts of blood spurting from the wound. In fear, you can do nothing but watch with wide eyes as Muichiro takes on the demon. They struggle against each other for a moment, before Muichiro knocks the demon out of the front door. However, the demon has quite the grip on the youngest twin, pulling him outside along with him. At first, you shakily stand to follow them, intent on helping the boy. But a pained groan stops you in your tracks. Looking down at the futon you had pushed the brothers onto, you see that the once white sheets are now stained a deep red.

For a moment, bile bubbles up your throat, begging to be released at the sight, and then you snap into action. Shakily standing from your place on the floor, you shuffle your way to Yuichiro’s futon, ripping the blanket from the floor and pressing it to the bleeding stump that was his arm. You hear screams, grunts, and what sounds like tree branches snapping from the ongoing fight outside, increasing your already growing concern for Muichiro. Making a split-second decision to help Muichiro, you tie the blanket as tight as you can around Yui’s arm to stem the bleeding.

But as you stand, your own blood loss finally catches up to you…

And everything goes dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List:

@aeolia18 @sunandflame @ethereal1l @cloudymistedskies

~if you'd like to be added to the tag list for the next part pls lmk~

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flecks-of-stardust · 2 years

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someone find me a draw the squad meme with 5 people and i’ll draw the dreamless inserts /hj

#not too committed to this but the idea is funny #there's actually more than just the 5 of them #but they're the 5 that appear in the main story. the rest don't exist until post-story #and i do mean exist. at least one of them isn't even born until after the main story concludes #though if you count the characters whose personalities (whatever there was) and backstories i've changed for this au #then uh. practically everyone in the dreamless universe is an oc #orchid (greenpath vessel) sort of straddles the line of being from canon and an oc tbh. partially because. yknow #they're a corpse in canon. and their only action is to fall over and drop an item.#but idk what the classifications around these things are #also um #spoilers but #technically. there's more that appear Before the story.#but they're dead. so

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coltermorning · 1 year

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The Last Words Spoken (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You recall various memories of time spent with Arthur and read from his journal.

Author’s Notes: Major spoilers for the game if you haven’t already finished it. This is not like my usual work, but I needed high honor Arthur for a change. This takes place across multiple chapters but mainly during and after Chapter 6.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, referenced sex, terminal illness, character death

AO3 Link

The Last Words Spoken

Word count: 3862

“Hey, darlin’.”

His voice rang through your head over and over, that same phrase repeated so many times you would never forget the way he said it. It was always those words, their slow drawl and the crooked smile accompanying them that made you ache, like your heart had grown too big for your chest.

Now was no different.

Infinite instances for you to recall his softened fondness, his smile for how honored he was to say those words. Each time, without fail, the calmness in his eyes spreading across his face and his whole body, his relief at seeing you made palpable.

You had never known a love like this until you knew Arthur Morgan. And now, as you recalled him, you lie in your bed with that same ache riddling your chest, with a bitterness so stretched it was turning the day blue.

“Hey, darlin’.”

The first time he said it, the words made you purse your lips to hide your excitement. He had kissed you the night before, your first kiss shared, and as he returned from his rambling and sought out your company, he greeted you so simply. But oh, did it mean the world to you at the time. You were young and giving and so glad to be wanted that those words caught your breath and held it. You spent the rest of the day bottling that feeling within you, unbelieving that a man such as him could feel an affection so gentle and innocent.

Not all of his greetings were as happy. Some were riddled with fatigue, some absentminded and full of a familiarity that dulled their meaning. Some were full of sorrow. You couldn’t bring yourself to think of those, rolling toward the window like the movement would block out their memory. You thought of the familiar ones instead, of so many times seeing him anew that his fondness was implied in that quick grin rather than expressed fully and received fully.

One such time was after months together, the first time you berated yourself for not appreciating that greeting enough. He had been gone for four days, not an uncommon amount of time but long enough for you to mull over his return. Your worrying over him had made you tired, and as night fell and you were unsure whether or not he would be coming in, you retired for the night and made for bed. Lying there on your shared cot, you fell into a dreamless sleep and were benumbed to his return when he eventually did appear late in the night, alerting you of his presence in the same way he always did. There was an extra ounce of fondness in his voice then, but being as tired as you were, you originally failed to recognize it and only responded in sleeping utterance. How long it took for his words to sink in you weren’t sure, but he was already stripped of his familiar hat and outerwear as he climbed into bed with you, making you jerk awake.

“Easy. Just me,” he said, and you stared at him as he settled beneath the blanket with you. His earlier greeting had fallen on deaf ears, and you felt a sudden rush of guilt so harsh over it that all you could do was continue to stare, to memorize his softened features. “You okay?” he asked, reaching out and cradling your face, running his thumb across your cheek. That movement, the way he rested his head on the pillow so softly beside you—it left you with the same ache you always felt for him, both that and your guilt twining together and holding your gaze.

When words finally reached you, you settled back down into the bed, closing your eyes as you clung closer to his warmth. “I am now.” He kissed you on the forehead and you kissed him on the mouth, not knowing how else to rid yourself of that guilt. It worked, as he made a small hum of approval, the sound deep and comforting enough to have you forgetting all else but him.

There were many other times your ignorance dulled his loving words, but none made you as ashamed as that. You soon realized that it didn’t mean you loved him any less, rather that he was becoming as familiar to you as breathing, that it was a sense of security making your nerves settle, not some lack of something. And from then on, no matter how you responded to him upon first seeing him, you were content in that and in the love you shared.

You looked out of the window, seeing the flat gray sky beyond, and recalled the times he said those two words to you when he was too tired to do much else beyond stumble into bed. Once, he had even left his muddy boots on as he flopped onto the cot beside you and fell asleep within minutes. You remembered chuckling into the cold night air, all thought of berating him for it lost at the sight of his exhaustion. He had always done so much for the camp, and back then, the sight of mud spread all over the thin blanket the next morning only made you laugh in fondness for him.

Some days, he said those two words with more weariness than tiredness. Especially as the gang began to fall apart and his sickness worsened, his gaze tended to fall distracted, the jut of his shoulders more worn than you could stand. He was elsewhere with his thoughts then, but the love he still had for you and wanted to prove to you shone through it all. In fact, there were days toward the end when that loving greeting was followed by fits of coughing so violent you thought it would break him. But it never did, and he made a point of doting on you all the same, maybe just to prove to himself that he still could. You were grateful, always grateful then, for every moment.

“Hey, darlin’.”

You felt tears well in your eyes despite your attempts to keep them at bay. And without warning, those last few greetings of his punched through you, the ones filled with a bittersweet sorrow that drowned you in their memory.

He was careful with you then, not wanting to risk passing his sickness on to you. It left you so lonely, the ghost of his touch a cutting taunt when he was right there and yet miles away.

After fighting with Micah one night loud enough for the entire camp to hear, he made his way over to you, utterly exhausted. He had had a long day away doing Dutch’s biding, and the result was the tired, unwell man before you, his usual inner light subdued. He brought his hand to your face and said those two words, his eyes full of sadness despite the smile beneath them. That was the first time you remembered being afraid that you would have to live this life without him, that he was too noble to save himself. And with that you cried, tears spilling down your face as he wiped them away and attempted to console you. You missed his touch too much to be sensible, and you pulled him into a tight embrace, shoulders shaking with grief as you pleaded, “Make love to me, Arthur.”

He stilled so suddenly it hurt you, knowing what he would say before he said it. He set his head on top of yours, pulling you ever closer. “You know I can’t do that, sweetheart. I ain’t gonna risk-”

“Getting me sick, I know,” you finished for him, pulling away to look him in the eye. “But I don’t care. Please.”

He considered you for far too long, warring with his own sensibility. Finally, your endless tears must have settled something within him, as he wordlessly led you to his cot and drew the stiff canvas down around you both.

That night, he made love to you for the last time. He was careful, so careful that you were wedged somewhere between pleasure and sadness and love, the entire ordeal so bittersweet that you cried after he fell asleep. You cried for hours, awake for so long that the sun rose and still, you had not slept. It was too much of an ending, a wordless goodbye that you knew he only gave to you because he was close to giving in to his mortality.

Sobbing into your bedsheets, you recalled the last time he ever greeted you so lovingly.

On the final day of the gang’s existence, he had insisted you stay behind and out of danger as he went to rescue Abigail. He and Sadie were successful, and the three of them returned and discussed a rough plan as they stopped their horses just shy of where you sat waiting for him. Your heart swelled at the sight of him, still alive, still coming back for you even through all the hardship. He dismounted with a swiftness that made you worry for his worn lungs before he made for you, all else left far behind. You couldn’t remember the other two women then, the horses, the woods surrounding you. You couldn’t remember anything apart from his gentle approach, the way his face lit at the sight of you.

“Hey, darlin’,” he said, and you hadn’t been able to stop yourself from letting out a whimpering cry, your throat burning with a heartbroken heaviness. His face, the way he said it after a long breath—like this would be the last—it broke you. He curled you into his arms knowingly.

“Don’t do that,” you cried.

“Do what?”

“Say it like that. Like you’ll never say it again.” He just hugged you tighter, and you started to sob. “It’s over, Arthur. Abigail’s safe. We can go now.” His sickness was another matter, a darkened blot on an already too-hard life lived. You chose to ignore it. “We can go and…live and-”

“No, sweetheart.”

You pulled away and looked up at him. He was smiling at you. But for the first time since you’d met him, you saw tears forming in his eyes. You couldn’t stand that. You pulled him to you, trapped him in a hug so tight you were sure you were crushing his already wounded lungs.

“I’ve got to go take care of things.”

His words made something settle within you—a knowingness that he would not survive this. Maybe he didn’t want to. Maybe he wanted to die on his own terms instead of succumbing to some greedy sickness. Whatever their meaning for him, you knew their meaning for you. He was leaving. And he was not coming back.

You pulled him impossibly closer, memorizing his smell, the feel of his coat beneath your gripping fingers, the sound of his steady heart. It was still beating, still beating, fighting every day just as he did for you. It was a constant murmur, a mockery—here, here, here. It was him, his life, slipping through your fingers. Pure agony, hearing that. Knowing it would not last.

“Don’t go,” you whispered. But it was now him that began sobbing, his shoulders shaking. You couldn’t stand the sound of it, of this man broken by his decision to die fighting but standing by it all the same. “You don’t have to-”

Arthur cut you off with a kiss. One last, soft, caution-be-damned kiss that took you by surprise. You felt his tears meet your face as he did it. And, after what felt like an eternity of savoring his gentle touch, he broke away. He looked down at you with a face swollen and eyes filled with emotion, eyes that were so full of love for you that you could have died happy beneath their gaze. He took in a shaky breath, and he smiled.

“I love you.”

The way he said it crushed you. It was his goodbye.

“I love you.” It was all that could be said.

With this, he pulled you into another tight hug then let go all too soon, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He smiled at you as he backed away, the tears shimmering in his eyes full of love and happiness and all things worthwhile. Without another word, he mounted his horse, nodded at the others, and took one last, long look at you. He smiled. And he kicked his horse and was gone.

You bitterly remembered the remainder of that day, of fighting with Abigail and Sadie, trying to mount your horse and go after him. They had stopped you, insisting coming with them was what he wanted for you. You remembered Charles finding the small group of you later that night, remembered your desperation in asking him to go after Arthur. He obliged you. You remembered the following day, John’s shocking return and the somber news that the love of your life had fought valiantly and died. You remembered the hollowness you felt at those words. You remembered that the most, in fact, because you still felt it. Every day, you felt it like a shadowed promise—that he was not here, and he never would be.

With this, you turned back toward your nightstand, remembering at last Charles’ return. He had sought you out a week later, bringing with him something you couldn’t stand—Arthur’s belongings. Arthur had given his satchel and hat to John, that sentimental soul, but he had kept his journal stuffed into his jacket pocket. You knew why when you finally worked up the courage to read the damned thing.

Your eyes flicked to the nightstand drawer. In it lay his journal, words long since written yet just as saddening as they had been since their origin. You had only ever read it once, in its entirety, long into the night. The last pages broke you, and you had hastily shoved it back into the drawer never to be touched again. But with these memories plaguing you, with the way he said those two words ringing so fresh in your mind, you couldn’t resist reading it again. You missed him desperately, needing to hear his voice, even if it was through written word.

Your hand shot out for the nightstand drawer before you could stop yourself. You dragged his journal out, your hands shaking as you sat up and flipped it over, running your fingers across its leather face. The number of times he had held this, had pored over its pages…

With more emptiness than courage, you undid the leather binding and opened the journal, careful to hold it at arms length so your tears wouldn’t stain the pages. It was difficult to read through such sadness, but when it fell open to a drawing he had done of a beautifully colored deer, you let out a sob, your resulting smile crushing you. His drawings. Him. God, did you miss him.

You flipped through the pages, noting every drawing, every entry. The way he wrote to himself, the amusement and the desperation in his words. How worried he grew over his found family.

Finally, you got to the drawing of you. Your breath caught in your chest at the sight of it, of the first time you had met and how beautifully he had captured that moment in drawing and in words. How much this would come to mean, he could never have known. Your happiness swelled at his words of ‘hell of a woman’ and ‘put me in my place.’ But mostly, you liked the last two sentences: ‘So, like a proper fool, I invited her to come back with us. I hope I do not live to regret it.’ Neither of you had regretted that decision. No matter how much it hurt to lose him, it was the having him that mattered.

You pushed on, turning pages, admiring drawings. There were a few small mentions of you here and there, becoming more frequent as time went on. Finally, boyishly, one of his entries took up two whole pages with just one tiny paragraph: ‘Maybe I ain’t as blockheaded as I’m told—I kissed her. Or maybe I’m an even bigger fool than before. For her, I gladly would be.’ You fondly recalled the memory, smiling over his words on the matter. And you flipped on, hearing about all of your firsts with him through his eyes, seeing his adoration for you spilled out on page after page.

Your recollections of him solidified until you came to the first entry in which he expressed his worry. His words were a taunt, especially where you were concerned: ‘Maybe I’ll find a way to get her out of this whole mess unscathed, with me alongside her. What an empty promise to make, but it’s a pretty dream.’

That was before he had known about his sickness. Before his sacrifice became inevitable, before leaving you was known between you but never spoken. As it turned out, he had written about it instead. You flipped on, to the last few entries about the dread that ate at him. ‘I guess the best thing for it is to try and save as many folk as I can before my time on earth is done. And Y/N—I owe her the world and yet cannot give it to her. She deserves more than saving. She deserves happiness. Whether I can grant it to her in so little time, we shall see.’

You read through three more entries, thinking of that line. He had made you happy. Every second with him was happiness in his final days. It was bittersweet, but you had never been so appreciative for his simple company as you were then.

Finally, ruefully, you came to the last entry. Your vision blurred with new tears. You blinked them away, letting them fall to the blanket as you stared at their source—the first time Arthur wrote to you in his journal. The last time he would write anything at all.

‘Hey darling.’

Seeing it written in his sprawling hand…you nearly couldn’t stand it. You pushed on nonetheless, desperate for every word he had ever given you.

‘It always made you smile when I called you that. I am hoping to give you what little happiness I can one last time.’

You took a breath, remembering in fondness his selflessness and how he had it always—until the very end.

‘If you somehow get your hands on this journal, it means I’m long gone, because you know I would never let those greedy eyes of yours near it under normal circumstances.’ You let out a weak laugh. How true that was. ‘If this is the case, as I expect it is, there are still a few things I need to say to you. First, you’re still alive to read these words, and if you’re there without me, I want you to know how proud I am of you. I can’t imagine life without you—don’t know how we ever managed it so long before—but you’ll get through this. I know you will. At least try for me, knowing I’m with you every step of the way.’

You recalled the first time you read those words, how bitter you had been over them at the time. But now, you saw his optimism in a different light. You saw his goodness, imagining he really was with you every passing day, cheering you on to keep going no matter that he was only with you in spirit. You turned the page with a little more courage than before and kept on.

‘Second, I’m sorry I dragged you into this whole mess in the first place. Hopefully you find a way out of it with the other women, being that you remained mostly innocent and nameless in the eyes of the law. I’m sorry I took away so much time being a fool myself, thinking I could get out of it and live a simple life after all the hell I raised. You deserved more than that from me—I should have gotten us out the day you came along. But now is not the time for regrets. Instead I hope you live and thrive and be happy, putting all this behind you, knowing you helped a broken man see what really matters in life. Because you did sweetheart, and I thank you for that.’

Your tears overwhelmed you once more. He was always a good man, and how he never saw that in himself you couldn’t begin to understand. But his description of himself dug a little deeper—not evil, not wrong, but broken. He was right in that at least. You could only hope that you had patched him up well enough to be happy in his last few months on earth.

‘Lastly, this journal belongs to you now. Read every word of it if you like, or disregard it completely (though I know you won’t, you little minx). Hell, maybe it’ll never find its way into your hands in the first place and this is all for naught, but I hope it ain’t. Because I need you to know that I love you, Y/N. I always will. What else is there for it?

I’ll miss you until I see you again.’

He had drawn a small heart next to that last line squished in at the bottom of the page—something so tender-hearted and gentle as to make you smile through your tears once more. In fact, you were glad you had picked the journal back up. Whereas the first time reading it was a punch to the gut and a heavy reminder of your loss, this time was different. This time was a remembrance of how he spoke and how overwhelming a love he had for you. Reading it through now felt like healing. And you didn’t know how you had ever gotten to that point, but you imagined his words had something to do with it, knowing he was with you in spirit, helping you to be who he would have wanted you to be. The least you could do for him was strive to be that—the girl he had loved so deeply.

You turned the page and saw the last thing he ever wrote to you, to anyone, and smiled. You closed the journal and tucked it back into the drawer, thinking it would do you well to read it more often as those last words of his rang in your mind, replacing the two that had made you pull out the journal in the first place. Instead of a sorrow for his absence, a gratefulness for the time you had with him settled within you, taking its place.

You got out of bed with a newfound vigor, deciding to take the day head on, those last words making it suddenly easy to do so. With every step, they repeated, reminding you that you would never truly be without him.

Forever yours, Arthur

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #high honor arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #fanfic #writing

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rayshippouuchiha · 7 months

Note

I have not even watched AssClassroom and still ur watch Wednesday has me hooked! I know snippets and about the ending (unfortunately) from YouTube shorts and Tumblr but ahhhhh!!!!

No spoilers about the ending though don't worry.

I have been contemplating a question though...

If an Izuku who had ranaway from Chisaki's lair with Eri in tow had been in Ass Class... How would have things gone???

Like Izuku is 'Saving' embodiment. So usually i would see his presence as a natural counter to Koro sensei or really anyone he cares about actually dying. He kind of just...breathes life into those around them. But there would be no way Pre U.A Izuku would be able to make much difference to canon, not when he still is naive about much of how the world works. Wouldn't question things he doesn't understand but has been conditioned since he was born as to be normal. Doesn't realise yet that heroes can be wrong. That heroes are humans, and that villains are people too. So what if things were spiced up?

Pre U.A Izuku has a nasty habit of suppressing his hurt and anger when it comes to himself. Can't even think of fighting back and winning. And has been hurt so much. Has been failed and abandoned by everyone around him since he was four and failed to manifest a quirk.

And then there is Eri. Who has never known kindness, has always been tired. But still finds it in herself to help the boy who breathes but looks dead, who was brought here after her, but has carried a weight of grief years in the making.

And then something changes. The moon gets destroyed, everyone panics, Izuku possessed by some unholy force seizes his chance, takes eri and gets the fuck out of dodge.

No where is safe. Hassakai is hunting them for sports, and one too many missed calls with the gang members have convinced Izuku that they are on borrowed time. They can't go to Heroes or police, one too many bribes and gazes that look through them but not at them, and the hero commission with their child soldiers (Izuku knows. Chisaki likes to rant) has them scrambling.

Except. There is an octopus. And there is a reward. There is an opportunity. There is a threat.

Izuku has never been able to fight back when it comes to himself. Can't think of hurting someone, bringing them the pain he was put through. Has always been too kind.

But.

Izuku also has a little sister now. A sister who for some reason sees him as a hero. A sister who saved him. A sister who wants him, who cries out at night, not from what Chisaki did to her, but out of fear that her Zuku-nii would leave her.

Like her mother did. Like her father did.

And Izuku who doesn't remember his father's face, but remembers his kindness. His love. Remember the sting and betrayal of screaming for him, not a hero but DAD. Understands.

Izuku doesn't like hurting others. Doesn't understand those who can kill others and laugh and live with themselves. But looking at the sleeping face of his baby sister cradled against him. He knows bone deep and heart deep that he is willing to cross lines he never would have imagined for her sake.

That he is willing to play the long con and sully his own dreams if it means his sister can be safe. If it means his sister can live. If it means he can be selfish enough to stay with the only family he has left.

His rage always suppressed comes surging forward like a tide. Filling him until he is nothing but a puppet dancing along to the strings of his grief, rage and hurt. Desperation incarnated in his endeavour to not lose anymore family, to keep his sister safe, to never be hurt again, to crush and incinerate those who dare to look down on him and hurt them, to watch people squirm and writhe and gasp under his blank gaze. He who no longer wants to be a hero, he who is dreamless, he who desires and needs control in his life. He who unknowingly resembles his father. He who is the child of the devil.

It's better than being a dekunobu with no limbs.

So now he is heading off to 3E, hiding in plain danger, a place where no one would expect him to be. He is going to cash in favors, make deals, learn... assassination.

And then after the octopus is dead, he is going to come for Chisaki.

Except. Things start to go awry.

Except Koro sensei cares.

Except Koro sensei learns, almost too late that there is a threat bigger than himself lurking around the edges, watching and waiting in amusement as his blood walks the same path as him.

OH Oh this is too good and I want to read it

#RayRambles #BnHA #MHA #prompt #AssClass #Assassination Classroom

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mtchee · 2 days

Text

Bubbles Along the Surface - [Zhongli] GN

blurb:

A minor god awakened years after the Archon War, and with your brother, Osial, pinned to the depths below, you've made your own way in the world. In the most recent year, sailing with a merchant crew, you've forever decided to conceal your identity as a god, keeping to the life of a mortal with an intense fascination with the land of Geo. In all your years, its only now you have the chance to finally step foot in Liyue, meeting a tall and handsome man who eventually comes to be your beloved--but not without a few misunderstandings.

cw: not edited, fluff, minor angst, second-person-pov, spoilers for liyue playthrough but nothing major, osial is [name]'s older brother, archon siblings fr, zhongli loving on you, a reassuring zhongli, feat. childe but really he only gets like four lines

| masterlist | genshin impact collection |

[8.2k]

Eons ago, after the Archon war, arose a young archon hidden in a dreamless sleep beneath oceanic depths, protecting them from the catastrophe above. Awoken by the change in currents, they rose to the water's surface whilst their elder brother was pinned to the crust below—for they was the beloved sibling of the God of Vortex, Osial.

Their own title, God of Bubbles, and it was they whom were responsible for the health of marine life and the ocean oxidation.

While their followers had either converted or were wiped out in the war, they retreated from their title as an Archon, knowing it would only get them into trouble with the rising seven who battled for their rightful seats in ruling Teyvat.

Though their stories never died.

Sheltered due to the war and then lost without their big brother, they began a new life as a merchant, sailing the high seas and traversing from nation to nation. Although the world had changed from what they had originally thought, they were open minded and of a bright spirit—and couldn't wait to explore.

"To Liyue we sail!" The captain called, a rugged but sweet man who practically adopted you, "they've new silks due for Inazuma on the second moon, if we get there early enough we can rest on some solid ground for a while. Lets give ourselves a holiday, ay?"

The rest of the crew cheered back ecstatically, having been docked in Schneznaya for more than long enough. They could use a change of scenery; most weren't built for this kind of cold.

You laughed at their eagerness, quickly aiding your mates in loading on the last few crates of supplies before the ship was to set off once more.

You made sure your route was clear of storm—well, as much as you could. Your power's influence was better equipped for the water's depths, not its surface.

But you made do.

"Excited, love?" Darla, a Fontaine merchant about ten years your senior (physically at least) approached, a wide and knowing grin on her face, "you've always wanted to go to Liyue, haven't you?"

You grin back, eyes closed as you giggle sheepishly, "You've heard all my rambles, haven't you? Of course I am! And we get to stay there for... how long? Oh! Almost two moons! Two moons! Darla, that's two months of exploring! I've always wanted to visit the adepti shrines..."

"Of course you have," The older woman rolls her eyes playfully, gently bumping into your hip, "calm yourself, dear. We don't want you to combust."

You laugh at her in good nature.

"How come we're staying so long anyway? Not that I'm complaining."

"Why do you think?" Darla gives you an incredulous look, "because you're the captain's pearl, that's why. He's always had a soft spot for you," she nods her head towards the old man by the wheel, "not that the rest of us mind. Gives us a break too."

They watch as while the evening prevails, the ship's leader bounds below deck despite his age and practically hauls up a barrel of drinks for the mates to share, letting out a bellowing laugh all the whilst.

You snort, "Mm, I see what you mean."

After a week or so of smooth sailing, you finally port in Liyue Harbour and settle yourselves at the available inns, unloading any personal cargo and clearing the ship for its future stocks.

The Portside is bustling with life, fishermen promoting their fresh produce and other sailors maintaining their boats. Your eyes are wide in awe at the architecture and vivacity, excitement only continuing to build within you.

"Oh, pa!" You eagerly turn to your father figure with pleading eyes, "the city's just past the docks, may I please—?"

"Just be back before dark, alright?" The captain huffs out with feigned exasperation, "some of the crew and I will be hangin' around the plaza for a bit. Some place called Third around Knockout? I dunno..."

He scratches the back of his head before letting out a puff of air as you launch yourself at him, arms latched tightly around his torso in a hug.

His once narrowed eyes widen while the colour pink tints his sun kissed cheeks, "O-Oi!"

"Thank you, pa!" You pull back with a gleeful smile, "I'll be back soon, I promise!"

You lean up and places a chaste kiss on his frizzy cheek before rushing off past the docks.

The male stammers as some of the crew snicker at him from behind, teasing him for putting up his so called 'cold exterior'.

"Yeah yeah... uh, b-be safe!" He calls out at last. He quickly whips around to those laughing, "who're you chucklin' at, huh? hUh?!"

Eager to explore, you find yourself in the middle of the plaza ahead of your crew and are immediately overwhelmed by the smell of food and a rush of people.

You can't help but grin at the sight.

You wander past the open shops and stalls, simply admiring the sights and everything the locals of Liyue had to offer. You feel your heart swell at the kindness of a sweet granny who ran a toy stall, the elder woman giving you a colourful paper windmill with the only explanation being that you had a beautiful smile.

You express your gratitude and wish for her good health before continuing onwards with more of a skip in her step, gift clutched to you closely.

In the midst of your exploration, you bump into a tall man, profusely apologising as you stumble for your balance, toy falling to the floor.

"Ah, no sweat!" The male replies, and you look up to meet deep blue orbs and a boyish grin. The ginger haired stranger leans down to pick up your fallen gift, handing it back to you whilst introducing himself as Childe.

"[name]," You reply politely, shaking his hand with a bright smile, "it's a pleasure! Uh, a-apologies for the collision..."

At your sheepish expression, the male only chuckles and waves it off, a certain glint appearing in his eyes at the mention of your name.

"You're not from around here, are you?" He tilts his head curiously.

"Oh, no, heh, I'm a—" You stop yourself momentarily, clearing your throat, "I'm a foreigner. I work as a merchant across the waters."

"I see, I see," His gaze grows half lidded, flickering to the glowless hydro vision by your waist, "you like the ocean?" His curiosity peaks as he notices you perk up immediately.

"Yes! Indeed, aha, it's practically my life."

He gives you a nod of understanding, and you indulge yourself in idle chatter before parting ways, the male heading towards the crimson stairs leading to the balconies above. It's then that you realise where you are.

Not in the plaza, that's for sure.

Finding yourself lost, you take note of the increasingly darkening sky, "Oh dear..." your stomach drops.

Your eyes dart around hurriedly in hopes of landing on something familiar, spinning around in a circle and only managing to loose hope.

Your chest tightens as the sun finally dips past the horizon, and you cuss quietly under your breath. Your knuckles grip the stem of the paper windmill closely, the toy being your only sense of comfort.

"Excuse me," A deep voice adresses you from behind and you jump.

You whirl around, wide eyes meeting the chest of the individual talking to you.

Wary gaze trailing upwards, you come into contact with almost luminescent amber isises, and a concerned frown.

"Are you alright? You seem rather... distressed."

You take in a sharp breath, eyes flickering—the man is breathtaking.

He is tall and of a strong physique, with wide shoulders and a toned, but slimmed waist. His clothes are dark, although intricate and rich with black and brown to gold features.

His hair is long at the back, tied neatly in a low tail whilst the front frames his eyes in curt strands.

You blink, "Oh, yes. I—uh, ahem. I-I'm not from here, you see? And, um, I appear to have found myself a bit lost..." you can't help but feel small under his stony gaze, hearing him hum lowly in response.

"I see. From where do you hail?"

"Oh, I'm a travelling merchant. I docked today with my crew and told pa—uh, m-my captain that I would be back before dark, but..."

"Ah, I understand," The male's stern features seem to melt ever so slightly at your stammer, and he gives you a small smile to ease your nerves, "do you recall where you are suppose to be?"

"Somewhere called Third Round Knockout, I believe."

You give him a sheepish grin in return, toy clutched close. The stranger's eyes lighten in recognition of the name.

"A place I frequent in my days of rest. If you would like, may I escort you to your destination?"

"Really?" You brighten hopefully as he offers you his arm, "you wouldn't mind? Thank you, sir!"

"Zhongli," He states as you link your arm with his, "you may refer to me as Zhongli."

He smiles at you softly, causing you to flush, and begins leading you back towards the plaza.

"Mister Zhongli! Mister Zhongli!" You wave him down excitedly, the male breathing out a chuckle at the notion.

Throughout the following months, the two of you had bumped into each other once more and became well acquainted, soon becoming friends as you met up frequently.

The geo user became acutely aware of his new found friend's fascination with Liyue and was more than happy to show you around and tell you the many tales of said nation.

You got to know each other well within your first visit, you having been rather disheartened when the time came for you and your crew to leave--though the man had assured you that when you next returned, he would still be waiting.

"[name]," He greets with a gentle smile, opening his arms as you gleefully jumps into them, "how have you been fairing?"

"Good," You reply curtly, smiling up at him, "but better now that I'm here."

You laugh when he shake his head at you, "What about you? Are you okay?"

Zhongli tilts his head slightly with a confused hum, "I heard about the Archon's passing, news of it has already reached Fontaine although it was a few days ago. Are you alright?"

"Oh, that, yes," Zhongli clears his throat and composes himself, "indeed, it is tragic. However, I believe the Qixing has everything under control."

"I suppose. Something doesn't... feel right though..."

He leans forwards in interest, a certain glint in his eyes at your words.

"Oh? How so?"

"I'm not sure, I just feel as though Morax—uh," You glance at him momentarily, catching yourself before you blurt out something controversial.

As an Archon yourself, you swore you could still sense the presence of Liyue's God; though you doubt herself, chalking it up to the fact that you were an inexperienced Archon, simply sensing the ramenants of his power.

"N-nothing. It just feels, odd? Someone having the ability to murder a God, and the Geo Archon no less... Um, anyway..."

Zhongli hums, the glint in his eyes ever so prominent, "I understand what you are inferring. In any case, it will be a long time before any such revelations come to fruition."

He takes note of your nerves, watching as you squeeze your left hand nervously and swiftly changes the subject to ease your discomfort.

You traverse towards Yujing Terrace, where Zhongli breaks any silence by running his mouth on about the flowers maintained in the gardens.

"A dear friend of mine, Madame Ping maintains the flora."

"Really?" You hum, "what kind of silk flowers does she grow?"

"All three variations I believe," The man goes on to continue but is interrupted by a high pitched and child-like voice from afar.

"Mister Zhongliiiiiii!"

The duo pause and turn towards the sound, you tilting your head at the sight of a frantically waving, floating mushroom fairy child and a boy.

The unknown blond makes no attempts to hush his companion, simply shaking his head at her loudness before approaching.

Glancing to the side, you notice Zhongli's ease in their presence and calm yourself.

"Ah, Aether, Paimon, hello," He greets with a nod, "what brings you two here?"

"Oh, we were just about to meet Ms. Ningguang! We've got a special invitation to head up to the Jade Chamber!" The mushroom fairy child—Paimon—explains proudly.

"Oh? Impressive, indeed." Zhongli humours her kindly.

"Sorry, did Paimon disturb you?" The blond—Aether—asks, ignoring his companion's offended 'hey!'.

"Not at all," You give the two a smile, "don't worry about it. Zhongli was just going to show me around Yujing Terrace."

Your companion nods, "Aether, Paimon, this is [name]. A dear friend of mine."

"[name]?" Paimon blinks, "you mean like the—"

Zhongli clears his throat, "Anyhow, I suppose the Qixing won't be too fond of waiting. I take it you are prepared?"

Sharing a peculiar look with Aether, the two communicate silently.

"Right!" The blond scratches the back of his head, "we've just picked up a gift for Lady Ningguang. Hopefully it's good enough."

"I'm sure she'll enjoy it." The taller assures.

Paimon huffs and stomps in the air, "Hey! Why are you interrupting—"

"Anyway, we'll see you later then! It was nice meeting you, Mx. [name]!" Aether grins at you and waves before bolting off, leaving his companion dazed.

"I—uh, whaaa? Heyyy! Wait for me!" The floating mushroom fairy is quick to fly after him, the two fading from sight.

You laugh, mildly confusde, "Well, they're an interesting pair."

The male beside you releases the breath he was quietly holding, chuckling softly, "Yes, indeed they are. Now, where were we? Ah, yes, about the silk flowers..."

"[name]?"

You perk up at the sound of your name, peering up from behind the stock of open crates you had been counting.

"Oh, Zhongli!" You brighten immediately, hopping over the boxes to reach him.

"Hi! What are you doing here? I thought you had work today?"

Despite your concern, you give him a grateful smile, a familiar warmth creeping up your neck.

The man smiles at you contently.

"I took a small break earlier than usual, though my boss doesn't mind."

He internally winces and fights back a flush of embarrassment when recalling Hu Tao's thorough interrogation for the sudden departure.

He wasn't in any trouble for doing so, no—but once Hu Tao found out it was to see someone outside of work, oh boy...

"Ah, anyhow," he clears his throat, "I... wanted to ask you something, and I suppose I just couldn't wait any longer."

Your interest peaks. Unfortunately, so too does some of your crew mates--a few of them slowing in their work to eavesdrop on the conversation.

Zhongli takes in a breath, "I was hoping to be able to treat you to dinner tonight, if you would be interested?"

His amber eyes meet yours with a hopeful glaze. Despite his outward composure, he could feel his nerves skyrocketing once he took note of their minor audience.

Your eyes widen and you bite back a squeak.

Is this even real? Or are you just assuming things? Oh, you could feel the excitement bursting within you—wait, but you're an Archon... oh gods you forgot about that. Ugh, but he's so—

"[name]?"

You snap out of your thoughts, embarrassment flooding you.

You quickly blurt out, "Yes! I-I mean, uh," you straighten yourself up as to not seem so flustered, "sure, ahem. Um... a-are you...?"

Zhongli let's out a subtle sigh of relief, closing his eyes as he allows a ginger smile to grace his lips.

"Yes, [name]. If you would, may I take your hand in courting?"

Oh.

OH SHI-

You tense and fight to push down an unholy squeal, mind racing. You could feel your mouth go dry the moment he reopened his eyes and made contact with yours.

You only manage to give him another giddy smile, nodding shyly with sore cheeks. Zhongli chuckles at you, taking a step closer and gently grasping your dominant hand in both of his.

"Then, I will see you tonight by the stairs of Yujin Terrace. Do not fret, my dear, you are perfect as always."

He brings your hand up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss upon its skin whilst maintaining eye contact.

He gives you one last charming smile before stepping away and leaving the harbour, ignoring the light blush coating his cheeks.

Later that day, as the sun kisses the horizon, you make your way from the inn and towards Yujing Terrace.

The night life in the plaza is bustling, the noise and chatter growing faint as you move farther from the docks.

Well into the city and past Luili Pavilion, the moonlight glinting across the shallow water catches your eye.

You slow and stop for a moment to peer into the pool, smiling softly as the golden bass and koi curl towards you. You glimpse a shadow passes from behind.

You giggle softly and, with a wave of your hand, summon gentle currents beneath the water's surface to play with the fish.

While the bass laze and let the gentle currents drag them along, the koi play along with the hidden tides, weaving in and out of the streams.

"Ah, there you are."

With a gasp and a jolt, you drop your hand to your side and step away from the waters edge.

"My apologies, [name]," Zhongli chuckles light heartedly, "I did not mean to frighten you."

"No! Not at all, aha," You quickly smooth any secret crinkles in your clothing and give your suitor a sheepish smile, heart racing in mild panic, "j-just nervous, I guess."

"Nervous?" The male quirks up a brow, "do I make you nervous, my dear?" Though his eyes--sharp as always--watch you attentively, the cheeky glint and subtle smile gives him away.

Stumbling over your tongue, you simply sigh and give him a pleading look, warmth creeping up behind your ears. Zhongli just smiles at you before offering you his arm; henceforth, commencing your date.

As evening turns into night, the moon rises higher and higher into the darkening sky with the two of you remaining arm in arm.

You find yourselves at the very top of the Terrace, where the annual Rite of Descension would have taken place.

Overlooking the sea of clouds*, you lean yourself against the railing, sighing softly as you gaze down at the waters fondly. Zhongli remains behind for a moment, watching you and getting lost in his thoughts before finally approaching.

He leans down beside you, facing the ocean although his attention is drawn to your being.

"[name]?"

You hum in response.

"May I... tell you something?"

Your attention peaks at his hesitancy, and you turn towards him curiously.

Zhongli keeps his glowing eyes out on the ocean.

"What I am about to say must remain secret between us. It is something that only a select few know," His gaze never wavers, "and I hope it changes very little, if it changes anything at all, between us."

Your brows furrow slightly, and you give his profil a soft smile, tilting your head to the side.

"What do you mean?"

Zhongli takes in a breath, "You know my name, correct?"

Your frown deepends, "Zhongli?"

The male nods slowly, "Indeed. Although, prior to this name, I used to go by many others—the most famous of which is one, revered, throughout all of Liyue."

You lean towards him in your puzzlement, and it is only then that he looks at you.

"My name, is Rex Lapis."

He doesn't blink, and your heart stops.

You can't breathe.

Disbelieving of your own ears, you search his gaze for any sign of deceit.

Alas, he remains firm.

His sharp amber irises seem to glow in the low light, glinting beneath the moon.

You swallow nervously and take in an uneven breath, a single word passing through your lips.

"...Morax."

Dread fills your entire being, and fear overturns your heart.

Why would he tell you this?

Why would he tell you now?

Why should he have ever told you? You don't just say that you're a dead archon to your friends—

You feel deathly cold all of a sudden.

He knows.

All tension in your being drops into the weight of lead as the entirety of Teyvat comes to a halt.

He knows.

He knows who you are, he knows you're a God, he knows all about you.

And for how long?

You feel sick to your stomach, and so you take a step back.

Seeing you fumble and your dreadful silence, Zhongli's firm gaze softens. He sighs quietly through his nose and moves towards you as he speaks.

"[name]—"

"Please."

He stops, face falling at the amount of fear in your eyes. He sees the unwavering fright in your very being.

The horrors of the war echo in your memories--whereby from stories or the experience of its aftermath.

Unadultered terror regarding your ultimate death as an archon sits like cement in your bone and tissue.

Zhongli watches, and you don't dare to breathe.

This wasn't how it was suppose to go.

He steps towards you again, but you fear to step back.

"Please don't."

Your voice wavers, almost a whisper.

It takes every fibre of your being not to retreat in immediate terror. But you know the power of a God, even if they no longer claim the title.

Zhongli's heart clenches, eyes widening as his mind begin to race once he notices your form trembling.

Though your hands were tense and nearly hidden by your sides, he could see their tight tremors. Barely glancing off to the side, he could see ripples surfacing from beneath the shallow pools of water decorating the Terrace.

They slowly grew bigger, and began to bubble.

"[name]... My dear, please. Calm yourself—"

"D-Don't!" Your voice barely raises, though your fear and desperation are apparent.

"Please... I...I don't have any followers. I don't have any land. I-I don't plan on taking anything, I swear I've basically only just woke up—"

His brows furrow, "[name]—"

"—I'll leave! I promise!" Your legs give out, and you collapse to your knees.

Your terror filled eyes no longer dare to look upon him, "I...I'm not a part of the seven but... I-I didn't..! I'd never..!"

A pitched cry forces itself passed your lips, "if I had a choice I wouldn't be here in the first place so p-please! Please... Banish me to the seas! I just--I... I don't want to die..."

Zhongli's stomach drops, "Oh, my dear—no..."

Sickness fills him to the brim and despair overwhelms him in waves.

He slowly lowers himself to your level, gaze soft as he does so.

"[name], please, look at me," Your lack of response causes him to sigh, but his patience is ever present, "here, how about you take my hand?"

Sniffling quietly, you tense when he draws closer.

"...I couldn't... M-Morax—"

"Whilst I retain the name of a former archon, the name you have come to know bares no such burden."

He keeps his hand outstretched, "So please, won't you look at me?"

It takes a moment of tension before you feel you foolishly dare attempt to make contact.

Your head lifts ever so slowly, and though you refuse to meet his eyes, you gradually reach out a trembling hand to meet his.

Zhongli breathes out a silent sigh of relief, gently tracing his thumb across your tense knuckles to soothe your nerves.

He whispers small praises of strength and gratitude, smiling gingerly when you look at him in alarm and embarrassment when he presses a kiss to your stiff fingers.

"There you go," He hums softly, "nothing is going to harm you, lest of all me, my dear..."

Slowly, slowly, the tremors stop and terror fades from your body. Exhaustion clouds you once you you're conscious of your senses.

Your embarrassment only grows at the awareness of your state: settled on your knees and with tear stained cheeks—not just in front of another archon but your (once upon a time) date no less.

Uh oh, you forgot about that.

You take in a sharp breath and look away to hide your face, clearing your throat as you attempt to pull away your hand.

Zhongli refuses to let go.

Instead, he stands, and gently pulls you up with him. Your voice wavers, feeling the dryness of your tongue, but Zhongli is patient.

He waits for you to gather your bearings.

"How," You sniffle quietly, "ah... how long have you known..?"

You refuse to meet his gaze.

Zhongli smiles gently, "From the very moment you mentioned your name."

"What?" You blink.

He chuckles lightheartedly, "No mortal would dare name a child after a God, my dear. Besides, your youth as an archon means you have yet to master how to conceal your presence."

"Oh."

While mortals may not be able to detect a God among the people, there is always a connection from archon to archon unless they wish to mask it.

As you are a young archon (though two thousand years old, you've been asleep for the past five hundred) with your elder brother trapped beneath the ocean depths, you lacked the guidance he would have provided.

You've managed to figure out a few things on your own, but your isolation from others of your being have left you clueless.

Zhongli smiles at you softly, "Not to worry, my dear. While I may have officially, well, unofficially, really—retired from being an archon, you are no longer alone. Do not carry this burden by yourself, hm?"

You take in a bashful breath, "R-Right. Thank you, uh, Zhongli."

He offers his arm to you once more, keeping a soft look upon his features as to keep you assured.

You glance between him and the ground, hesitation clouding your mind before you rationalise your thoughts—he had known about you from the moment you met. If he really wanted you gone, you would be.

But you weren't.

And so you give him a shy smile before accepting his arm, and you continue your night at a slower pace.

Though you both remain oblivious to the soulless blue eyes that observe you from within the shadowed darkness of the night.

A sly smirk traces his lips—a that plan would soon come to fruition.

Nearly two weeks since that night, you help load up at the docks on a bright sunny day.

The ramp creaks slightly with every heavy weight carried over from land and on board, the workers chattering about as they go on with their business.

Zhongli and you had continued to meet up, occasionally for lunch, but more so in the evenings so you had more time to spend together. Your crew mates teased you relentlessly, but they were nice about it—thanks to your pa, that is.

He was in near tears when he first heard about it, sniffling about how his little one was all grown up, even when you've never been a child in the time he'd known you, but it was funny (and sweet) nonetheless.

Darla was ready for all the gossip, and gave you all the romance talk you could ever need.

Needless to say, you were incredibly embarrassed that day.

Particularly when Zhongli came to pick you up at the docks after seeing you were late. Never again will you let Darla speak to him.

Zhongli was amused though.

It was around midday when things began to get weird.

It was only you who noticed at first, though you brushed it off seeing as you would be the only one to notice.

You'd noticed the currents beneath the water's surface began to quicken, gradually turning into a swirl. Then the sky darkened, and the swirling currents moved further out to sea before breaching the surface—a vortex.

Thunder clouds rolled in and lightning struck the ground. At the sudden change in weather, the people of Liyue slowed in their works.

Panic came to fruition as the vortexes rose into the air, connecting with the storm clouds above.

Harsh rain pelted down on Liyue Harbour, the ocean waves rising and crashing down like a dominoes on the docks; the water became so rough it began to damage the boats and ships, fiercely pulling the wooden stakes of the docks.

"Run! Run!" People screamed, "move inland!"

"Away from the waters!"

"Move! Quickly!"

The harbour was in hysterics.

You felt pain grip your heart at the fearful screams of the people you had come to love, worry flooding you as the wooden stakes began to rock.

"[name]!" Your pa comes barrelling towards you with heavy footsteps, his rain drenched clothes weighing him down, "stay away from the boats! Get inside the buildings!"

He hurriedly nudges you away from the docking point, eyes rapidly blinking to get rid of the water.

"What about you?!"

You have to yell over the sound of the thunder and heavy rainfall.

"I'm getting the rest of the crew!" He calls back, "stay put!"

You can do nothing but nod, dumbfounded at the sudden turn of events.

As you turn to leave the harbour, a deep voice calls for you.

It's quiet, yet it rings throughout your head and echoes in your ears, and your eyes widen.

You recognise the voice, though it had been many centuries.

"Big brother..." You mutter under your breath.

You move your gaze towards the violent waters, seeing a small, snake like tendril beckoning you forwards. You feel a sting in your eyes--and not just for the pelting rain.

Nervous butterflies flurry in your chest as the rain falling around you grows lighter.

"[name]..."

The voice beckons you, and you move closer.

It repeats your name again, "little one... follow..." the tendril falls back into the water, and you gasp.

"W-Wait! No!"

You rush towards the rough waters edge and collapse to your knees, peering into the depths.

Desperation clings to you and you loose all rationale, a cotton haze in your mind forcing you to no longer pay heed to the life you had built since your awakening.

"Brother! Brother, where are you!?" Your eyes dart around before spotting the tendril once again, and relief floods your system. It motions for you to follow before disappearing once more.

You follow.

Chasing it across Liyue Harbour and spying it from the ocean border, it popped up each time before dropping down and appearing someplace else.

Before you knew it, you found yourself by the cliffs of Wuwang Hill.

You struggle to see through the veil of rain, the thunder grumbling louder and louder. Through the thick of it, you spot the faint outline of a man, his back turned to you.

Shock almost paralyses your body. You find yourself slowly moving towards the man nonetheless.

The closer you gets, the better you can determine some of his features.

While tall, he maintains a lean build, ocean hued locks cascading down his pale back. His body is adorned in a loose hanfu, colours corresponding with the oceanic depths.

Your eyes widen when he turns his head toward you, lapis blue irises meeting with the [colour] of your own.

The smallest of smiles tugs at his thinned, pale lips, fondness softening his gaze.

"Hello," He greets, voice—though with a slight rasp—is rich and otherwise smooth, "little one."

Your heart races, a heavy breath leaving you before you bolt towards the man, tears streaking down from your eyes and mixing with the rain.

"Big brother!" You cry out, embracing his form from behind.

Despite your affection, the male keeps himself facing the cliffs edge. He places his hands upon yours, tracing your knuckles softly.

He hums softly, "My dear, sweet sibling," a sad look overcomes his features, and he gazes out towards the harbour.

At his lackluster, you sniffle before looking up confusedly.

"Osial..?" You question, eyes glistening.

He does not ordain you with a response.

Your attention slowly draws towards the city of Liyue, absolute horror filling you to the brim at the sight of it—vortexes reaching from between the sea and the sky threaten to swallow the buildings and wreck the stone mountains, whirlpools drawing closer to the bayside.

You spot giant tendrils of a hydra composed of water thrashing amidst the chaos, roaring and hissing as the rain pours heavy.

"Osial!" You cry out in terror.

"Brother—what's going on?! What are you doing?!" You remove your arms from the figure of the God, pushing yourself in front of him in a panic, "brother, please!"

The male's firm eyes do not falter, and he merely glances at you.

"It is for the best, dear one," A frown makes itself known on his once passive features.

You feel a swirl of emotions well up inside you, "What? No, no! Please—brother, Liyue is my home!"

Osial's gaze hardens, and anger clouds his view.

"Liyue," He spits the name, "has corrupted you, dear one," his fists clench by his side, and the large tendrils of water grow even more fierce, "he has corrupted you."

Your stature falters, "W-What..?"

The man only huffs, crossing his arms across his chest as he holds his chin high, "Do not act so naïve. I know who you confide with. You have betrayed me, little one."

"Betrayed you..? Betrayed? Brother, what are yo—"

"You have made treason with the one whom trapped me under our depths for millennia. You have taken side with Rex Lapis, the Geo Archon—he has taken you from me!"

The God's hair rises in opposition to the heavy downpour, locks twisting into the form of snakes that hiss, "and so I too, will take something precious from him."

His voice booms across the hills and across the waters.

From the edge of the Jade Chamber, Aether and his comrades divert their attention towards the sound of the yell, and their eyes widen.

You feel your heart break in your chest, "What..? No.. no! Osial! Brother—" you begin to scream, tears, like a waterfall, steaming down your face, "brother, please! Think for a moment! Brother!"

The elder ignores your cries of anguish.

Staring you down sternly despite the ache in his chest. He says nothing as he pushes you to the side, walking towards the cliffs edge once more.

He turns to you one last time, a sharp bite present in his tone.

"Once this is over, I will be back for you, dear one. And him," His eyes glint dangerously, "I will kill."

And then he leaps, vanishing into the furious, crashing depths below.

Your stomach drops, and the amount of panic coursing through you makes you dizzy.

You can't lose your brother.

But you can't lose him either.

And you surely wouldn't be able to cope without your beloved city.

So you run.

You race through the forest on foot, terror coursing through your veins.

While it would be faster to traverse through the waters in your bubbled form, it's current condition would render you immobile, and it would only be easier for your brother to hunt you down.

You hiss at the rain hitting your eyes, pushing through the irritation and the pain as you continues to run.

Not to the harbour, no.

It would be much to easy for him to find you there.

You must get away, far away.

Away from the waters, away from your brother, and away from him—your beloved, Morax.

Zhongli.

Your body aches and your heart shatters, but you persist--never once sparing a glance over your shoulder at the chaos that ensues.

You didn't know where you were, but even if you were far, the distance between you and the harbour still could not disguise the explosion from afar.

Your eyes widen at the light booming from whence you had gone, hands covering your gaping mouth as you fall to your knees with a stifled cry.

That was it.

It was done.

The fight was over, but you could feel it, in your heart, that it was not your brother who had won.

The breath in you chest is forcefully taken from you, and you can't find it within yourself to fight for it back.

You stumble into the nook of a mountain base you had hidden in, falling onto the cobbled and cold ground with tears. Your shoulders heave with your heavy and silent cries, before a loud scream escapes you, rocking the land and rippling the waters.

A searing pain grips your heart.

Despite their victory and with their feet on solid ground, the traveller and the rest cannot help but feel unease.

After their win is assured, a shrill shriek of pain ruptures the air, having echoed from afar. The people of the harbour shudder and almost collapse, looking around in fear, worry, and wonder.

But the group know better, and Aether shares a look of alarm with Paimon—their attention is yet to be caught by the figure slowly and weakly rising through the bubbling of the ocean water.

Through your tears and anguished cries, your exhausted mind forces you into a deep slumber—your body rested in the cave.

You remain undisturbed for days.

Panic and worry consumes those who know you, unknowing of your whereabouts and your condition.

Zhongli, putting aside his contract, feared for you the moment of the attack.

News reached him quickly of Osial's anger towards Rex Lapis for having 'stolen' his beloved sibling, though information of Morax's mortality remain only with the adepti and the Qixing.

By request of the former archon, the traveller sought the help of the fellow adepti to track down the missing god, the Qixing keeping an eye out, though having to prioritise the chaos of the people.

Within the time of their search, you awaken in a daze. Though still heartbroken, your mind is in more ease.

You peek outside of your little cave, stepping out and glancing around. It seems that you made it to the border between Cuijue Slope and Tianqiu Valley, near the adeptus mountains.

About to leave your enclosure, a cold fear consumes you as a shadow obscures you overhead. You look up, spotting the retreating form of Cloud Retainer from above.

Panic grips you again, and you immediately return to your stone cold haven.

They've discovered your existence—they're after you.

After the defeat of your brother, they've come to deal with you next. Since the destruction your brother had caused, surely only death would befall you as punishment in suit.

Tears gather in your eyes again and you muffle a weep. Your body stiffens at the sound of a shuffle from the cave's mouth, and your throat tightens.

Slowly, you stand, keeping silent as the intruder grows closer. You take in one last breath, deciding to play defense as there was no where for you to go.

You summon your catalyst which rotates with your elemental, encased in a bubble with strands of water circling around it. In your spare hand you generates the first burst of hydro, ready to attack.

Anticipation and anxiety flood you as a head pops around the corner, followed by a body with a sword in their hand.

Without hesitation, you clench your eyes shut and let out a battle cry, throwing down your elemental and attacking at a rapid pace.

While your original attack is not powerful, it's continuous onslaught is fast and taxing.

Yells of alarm and pain are heard from the intruder, voices reverberating around the cave.

"Wait! W-Wait!"

"[name]—Wait! It's me! Aether—t-the traveller!"

"A-Aether..?" You slowly cease your attack and peek your eye open, gasping at the sight of the familiar blond male and his floating mushroom fairy companion, "oh! Archons..! Aether, Paimon—I'm so sorry!"

The traveller gives you a sheepish grin whilst Paimon shakes the remaining bubbles off her head, smiling at you.

"Don't sweat it!" The little fairy dismisses.

"So this is where you've been hiding, huh?" Aether comments, "are you okay?"

You shrug, weapon dissapating, "I..I don't know. I've been too afraid to leave, and had fallen asleep in my grief... I don't know how to feel."

The male hums, "Liyue has been looking for you, you know," his voice is gentle, "come on. Everyone is worried."

With a bit more coaxing, the traveller and his companion manage to lead you out of the cave.

You freeze at the sight of someone waiting outside.

Xiao had been standing guard the mouth of the cave, waiting for Aether's return. His hardened eyes meet yours, and you cower in fear, re-summoning your catalyst on a whim.

Your hands bubble with hydro.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Take it easy!" Paimon flies in front of you, waving her arms about frantically, "it's just Xiao! Paimon knows he looks scary, but Paimon promises he's really nice! Deep, deep down!"

You glance between Paimon and the adeptus, who eyes you back wearily.

"He...he's not here to kill me..?"

"Kill you?" Everyone is taken aback by the statement, "why would he kill you?" Aether furrows his brows worriedly, "we've been searching for you for days."

"And Zhongli's been worried sick!" Paimon chips in.

"Z-Zhongli..?" Your eyes flutter, and your guard lowers, "oh no... please—take me to him..!" And so they do.

A weary but rushed trip back to Liyue Harbour consisted of Paimon fretting over you and lowkey (okay, highkey) freaking out over the fact that you were indeed another archon, you fearing for your life whenever Xiao so much as glanced at you, and Aether reassuring you that no one wanted you dead.

Reaching the harbour was like a slap in the face for you, of both uncertainty and relief--relief at the fact that most were safe, and casualties were little, but uncertain of how those who knew you would react to you returning, especially the Qixing and Zhongli.

You wondered if the Qixing will let you roam or imprison you for your brother's acts, or if Zhongli will shadow you in favour for his city--though that would be fair, you conclude.

They are his people after all.

"Baby pearl!" Your head perks up at the name, head darting around in search for the source of the watery call, "oh, thank the archons!"

Your papa comes barreling towards you, unshed tears glistening in his dark brown eyes as he wraps his arms around your frazzled form, "you're safe..! You're safe..."

"P-Papa..." Tears, once again, well up in your pretty [colour] orbs, and you sniffle at the tightness of his hold, "...papa..!"

You let out a cry, sobbing into his shoulder, "I-I'm so sorry..!"

"You're okay, pearl, you're oka-y!" The usually stoic captain's voice cracks, and he sniffles with you. As your tears die down, he straightens himself and clears his throat, turning towards your onlookers, "thank you, for bringing [name] back safe."

Paimon tiltes her head slightly, "Hm? Doesn't he know that they're...?" She eyes you shaking your head rapidly and a lightbulb goes off in Paimon's head, "Ooh! Paimon gets it. Yes! We kept them very safe indeed! Hehe."

"Of course, sir," Aether nods respectfully, Xiao simply dozing off into his thoughts.

"Papa," You gently call his attention, "have you seen Zhongli anywhere?"

The man scoffs, "Where haven't I seen him? He's been frantic since you left. He's either by the pavillion or the terrace. You've given the young man quite the fright."

You sweatdrop.

"Ah, y-yes..." You give your papa one more shaky smile, planting a grateful kiss on his scruffy cheek, "I'll be back soon okay? I promise I won't be going anywhere again."

"Hmph, you better... now, come on you lot! We could use a few more hands down by the docks!"

Xiao promptly disappears at that, with Paimon groaning and Aether simply smiling and giving a polite nod before heading off to help.

With that, the young archon begins making their way towards the destinated areas, checking the pavillion first before heading up to the terrace.

Anxiety pulses in your heart momentarily, but you quickly dismisses it--like papa said, Zhongli had been frantic, so you have nothing to worry about.

Making your way up the stairs, you ignore the eyes of a certain ginger who walks opposite to you, watching as you pass him by.

Reaching the top, disbelief takes over your very being.

Your jaw drops and your shoulders sag at the amount of shock coursing through you.

There, atop the end of the terrace, was Zhongli talking to a man only a few blue hairs taller than him.

His clothes are slightly tattered, and still loose, reflecting colours of the ocean depths. His skin, though pale, is slightly bruised. And although his brows are furrowed ever so slightly, the smallest of smiles rests confortably on his thin lips.

It was Osial.

Your brother.

Talking to Zhongli.

The geo archon.

Civilly.

How in the abyss were you suppose to react to this?

How the hell are you suppose to approach them?

Do you say hi to your brother first? Would Zhongli be offended? Or do you greet your lover? But wouldn't Osial be mad then? You couldn't really just waltz over either, you'd just been recovered from hiding. What does someone even say after that?

Your mind races with these conflicted thoughts, eyes dazed and mouth still agape in shock.

You blink.

"Ah, [name]," Your brother addresses you first, the two men turning their attention to your figure, "dear one..."

His gaze is soft, a regretful look on his features. His shoulders are no longer held back and squared, and his chin is no longer held up so high. Sadness overwhelms him at your lack of response.

You continue to stare, only taking small, slow steps towards them.

"I..." He sighs, "my dearest kin... I am so... sorry. Truly. It was I, who was corrupt, not you. Never you." His throat tightens, but he continues.

"So many years under trapped under the surface made my mind weary, and I was easily influenced by those you call the Fatui. I had not meant to hurt you, or cause you great fear... My mind was overwhelmed by anger when I was told that the very God who entrapped me had stolen you, forcefully entrapturing you," Osial closes his eyes in remorse, "it is only now that I learn it was all a ploy, and for that, I deeply apologi--"

He stops mid sentence, eyes snapping open in surprise with a silent breath.

Once within arms length, you had thrown your arms around his waist, nuzzling into his chest with watery eyes. Osial looks down at you in bewilderment, Zhongli quietly chuckling at his expression off to the side.

You sniffle.

"I'm just glad you're still here, big brother..."

Blood rushes to the male's cheeks at the sentiment, and his own eyes begin to gloss over with unshed tears. He takes in a sharp breath, holding you close and tight. He rests his chin atop your head.

"As am I, dear one... I had taken you for granted..." Osial is the first to pull away, smiling down at you gently.

He cups your cheek in his hand, caressing it gently, "My, how you've grown... so beautiful and mature now. I've missed you, little one."

"And I, you, dear brother..." You smile tearfully back up at him, leaning into his familial touch. He places a loving kiss on your forehead before releasing you, stepping away and looking towards the former geo archon.

Your eyes draw towards the dark haired man, stomach fluttering while your heart does flips.

Zhongli smiles down at you fondly, gaze soft. He steps towards you, outstretching his arms before pulling you into a secure embrace. He nestles his nose unto your head, breathing in your familiar scent.

"You had me so incredibly worried..." You flush at his bold affection, nuzzling him back.

"I know... I'm sorry."

He pulls back to look at you, cupping your face in his hands, "It's alright, my love. You're here now, and we're safe. Everyone is."

Your breath hitches in your throat, heart thumping from his endearment. He leans closer to you, nose brushing against your as his eyes grow half lidded.

"...I'm overjoyed that you're safe--"

"Ahem," Osial clears his throat, interrupting you.

Your face blossoms in heat with embarrassment, and you turn away in shame from your brother. Osial's arms cross with a deadpan look on his face.

"Not in front of me, you overgrown reptile," Osial hisses.

Zhongli rolls his eyes.

"Blink, then, you water-born cretin."

With that, Zhongli leans down and captures your lips in a long overdue kiss.

A squeak escapes you at his uncharacteristic vigor, though you figure he's doing so to get on your brother's nerves. Despite that, you can't help but indulge, eyes fluttering shut and humming into the kiss.

Your mind goes haywire at the feeling of his tongue gently running over the plump flesh of your lips. You can feel his breath through his nose caressing you, the air breaking upon contact with your skin, and he moans lowly against your mouth.

Osial gags at the sight, "Alright--alright! That's enough! Get your filthy hands off of my family, you decrepit fossil!"

It's safe to say that his protests went on unheard.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #gi x reader #x reader #character x reader #zhongli x reader #morax x reader #mtchee's library #mtchee's tea & story house

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stone-stars · 4 months

Text

a while ago i made a post about naddpod music and @metamagic-adept brought up kingshammer in the replies. and yeah, i can't resist. so. kingshammer essay, let's do this.

first of all: huge, huge thanks to @operationslipperypuppet for helping me with this; she found a bunch of uses (esp for c3) and contributed truly so much to the analysis as well.

now, the use of kingshammer differs by campaign. so! really quickly. here is every use of kingshammer in naddpod.*

*as of c3e53. obligatory spoiler warning for every naddpod episode up to that point.

(continued under the cut as i was not kidding about this being an essay-- i will leave a tl;dr of sorts towards the end)

c1e45: The Kings protect the Boobs from the avalanche (except Hardwon)

c1e54: Hardwon's death*

c1e54: Hardwon's visions while he's dead*

c1e54: Hardwon is revivified*

c1e55: Hardwon's dreamless sleep after dying*

c1e65: JV and Rosa in the fog, when he gives her his lantern*

c1e65: JV, the Duskmother, and Moradin*

c1e69: Hardwon seeing the day his father died while in Galad's sword

c1e75: Hardwon speaking up in the astral council: "You don't broker a deal with someone who calls themself a God"

c1e80: Hardwon's flashback in Hell: "Looks like a Dwarf to me"

c1e81: Hardwon fuses the Bronzebeard and Coldain hammers

c1e86: Hardwon throws King Coldain the Kingshammer in the Tarrasque fight

c1e86: Coldain returns the Kingshammer to Hardwon in the Tarrasque fight

c1e87: Hardwon and King Coldain talk about succession of the throne

c1e90: Hardwon dreams of Grimthor MacGannis in the fall of Irondeep

c1e91: Hardwon notices that the debris from Irondeep collapsing is gone

c1e93: Hardwon and King MacGannis talk about the Godshammer / MacGannis offers Hardwon the MacGannis Kingshammer

c1e98: Pestilence sends Bev and Bubbles to a Maze

c1e98: Bev in the maze, following Bubbles (instead of Erlin)

c1e99: Bev Sr. possesses Balnor so he can bless Bev's sword

c2e2: Fia and Zirk talk about their mentors and their books

c2e14: Jabari sees the past and is controlled to need to protect the King

c2e14: Jabari (still mind controlled) attacks Corbeau

c2e20: Bathilda retells the betrayal of the Blades / Cain and Moxora's attack on the Blades meeting

c2e21: Losgrar explains the Crux, and the cave in that killed hundreds

c2e22: The Third Mates plead with the Scrappers and Grez / The Scrappers and Grez stand off in the basement

c2e28: The Third Mates get through to Walder Lachnamoore (using Kenley's map and Remove Curse)

c2e40: The start of the ritual with the crown and Irina (that is ultimately corrupted by Moxora)

c2e41: Henry removing the crown

c3e21: Callie approaches and soothes the Silver Serpent

c3e27: Big Bev and Callie go down in the High King fight, the King tries to escape, Calder fails to finish him

c3e34: Murph talks about Moradin, the Kingshammer itself, and the blessings people seek at his statue

c3e38: Callie tries to soothe the Bronze Serpent (first attempt)

c3e38: Callie tries to soothe the Bronze Serpent (second attempt)

c3e39: Callie tries to soothe the Bronze Serpent (final attempt, after bean rat, which succeeds)

c3e45: Callie enters the helm ("I'm coming Calder")

c3e45: Hardwon summons the spirit guardians

(note: uses in c1 marked as a * are credited instead as "A Sight For Sore Eyes", and i'd also like to mention that i didn't exclude side campaigns or oneshots from this list. kingshammer just... isn't used outside of the main campaigns.)

now, looking at this list, there's something that's immediately obvious: you can't talk about kingshammer without talking about hardwon surefoot.

... and i say that, but i'm going to immediately do the opposite of that and talk about non-hardwon uses in c1 and c3, as well as all uses in c2. also, keep in mind that not every use 100% fits these categories, sometimes kingshammer is just the right song for the moment, and that's fine. let's get into it!

first: moradin. the man who created the hammer, so of course it would be used for him. i would place both of JV's scenes here (the first scene, though not featuring moradin directly, is tied to JV's afterlife), as well as the c3e34 moradin statue scene. (i also wouldn't be surprised if the JV scenes get kingshammer partially because of its link to jake like. on a meta level. but i digress)

second: once the godshammer is created in episode 93 (put a pin in that), kingshammer is no longer used for hardwon or the weapon itself. in the first campaign, the song shows up a few more times, all for beverly: when he's in the maze during the pestilence fight, and when bev sr. possesses balnor to speak to bev. these fall in line, to me, with the early uses of kingshammer for hardwon (post his death in ep54). being beyond the planes of the living, being trapped. hardwon sees lydia there and has to leave her behind for his friends; beverly sees erlin and does the same.

third: in eldermourne, kingshammer is largely used for rituals and betrayals, and is especially tied to the cycle of mistrust and betrayal that surrounds the children of the trickster; the final use being when henry goes to remove the crown from irina in the finale. it's seeded with the introduction of the guardians of the grove books in ep 2, and continues throughout. i'm not going to touch on every use here, some fit more obviously, but i want to call out a few things: 1. re; the use in e28, walder lachnamoore was specifically involved in the downfall of the summer and autumn children of the trickster after they had been manipulated by moxora/heredecia and 2. every other use comes in a pair (the use in 2 sets up bathilda's story in 28 / the two uses in 14 are both jabari getting controlled / 21 and 22 are the ghost dragon / 40 and 41 are both the crown)

fourth, i'm just going to quote emily on the c3e27 short rest: "kingshammer in [campaign 3] i'm trying to put under dragons and serpents, 'cause they're the weapons of this campaign." this covers the uses in eps 21, 27, 38, and 39. the use in 34 is for moradin, and the only other c3 use left is the one in episode 45. put a pin in that.

and with that we've covered all the other kingshammer uses. so, finally, let's talk about hardwon and kingshammer.

hardwon is definitely the strongest association the song has. especially in campaign 1, where it's almost exclusively used for hardwon and the kingshammer (the weapon, not the song) until the godshammer is created in episode 93.

i want to break these uses up real quick; first, let's look at the first handful of uses in campaign 1: 45, 54 (all of them), 55, 69. here, the song comes in as things get dire. the mountain collapses, and it looks like even as the kings save his friends hardwon is going to die. then, he dies and sees that lydia is trapped. he watches his father's last stand. kingshammer isn't a heroic theme for hardwon here, it's a theme he struggles against. it's not prompted by his actions, it's prompted by something happening to him. it's the weapon he wields, but in 69 it's even actively rejected him due to his vampiric nature.

and then, well, a few things happen. he's reborn, for one (literally). and then in episode 75, for the first time, hardwon prompts the song. he speaks up in the astral council, and says "you don't broker a deal with someone who calls herself a god." and his friends and allies stand with him.

after this, the uses in episodes 80-93 (keep that pin in episode 93) are pretty obviously tied to the weapon itself. the kingshammer. as it gets stronger, so does hardwon. the "looks like a dwarf to me" flashback is the first time he wields it. every other use concerns the hammers and the dwarven kings. the kingshammer isn't what makes hardwon a hero, not by a long shot. but the thing that's interesting to me is the turn here. it's no longer a song that happens to hardwon, not really. it's often a song prompted by hardwon's action, and it's more hopeful now. it represents the weapon and its legacy, which is a thing hardwon is coming to embrace.

now, about that pin. in episode 93, hardwon and macgannis talk about the godshammer. when macgannis offers hardwon his own hammer, hardwon says: "i don't necessarily have to be the guy, you know, if you wanna swing it--" and the song cuts off. they wrestle for the hammer, hardwon wins, and the godshammer is restored.

after this point, kingshammer is not used for hardwon again until campaign 3 episode 45, when he summons the spirit guardians at the 11th hour of the lord ultrus fight.

i just want to emphasize that; hardwon tells macgannis that he doesn't have to be the one who wields the kingshammer, and the song doesn't get used for him again until he accepts it back in campaign 3. when he says "hey boys, i think we have a friend to avenge," stands against ultrus, and his friends and allies stand with him. when he accepts himself as the wielder of the kingshammer again, and what that means to him (being a hero).

do you see-- i am talking directly to you, the single person who read this far-- do you see why the song use in this podcast is insane?? like! did murph know, back in the first campaign, that hardwon would return, be retired, and have given up the kingshammer? definitely not. does the use of kingshammer for hardwon mirror his arc in an insane way? yes.

so that's an overview of hardwon and kingshammer. however, we're not done. let's look at it all together: moradin, the kingshammer (the weapon), the uses for bev and jv in c1, betrayals and rituals in eldermourne, the serpents and dragons of c3, and hardwon's relationship to the hammer and the song.

kingshammer is a song for weapons. emily says it, when talking about campaign 3. and that is 100% a common theme here. but, going a bit further, it's also a song about the interaction of mortals and divine/otherworldly power.

often, it's mortals wielding that power. the kingshammer (the weapon) is a divine gift, given by moradin to the dwarven kings. a huge chunk of the uses, especially in c1, are directly tied to the weapon and hardwon's wielding of it. the spirit guardians is a huge example of this as well, as hardwon and his allies are touched by the kingshammer's magic and able to stand against ultrus. and also; bev sr uses the power of the shadowfell to bless bev's sword. and the serpents are oberon's weapon against the destruction of nature; glen uses the silver serpent for his own gains, gromdal does the same to the bronze. callie, meanwhile, doesn't use the serpents, not like glen or gromdal-- instead, kingshammer comes in when she attempts to soothe them. because ultimately, that's the way she wields their power. through connection.

sometimes, they're being pulled at by its influence instead. positively, or negatively. JV, when he's beyond death, meeting the gods. hardwon after his death, torn between lydia (who was put in this position by a god) and his friends. beverly, trapped by an avatar of thiala's magic, being guided by the ghost of erdan. the souls of irondeep being pulled from the prime material by lydia, the lord of shadowfell. callie, entering the helm where ultrus was trapped to save calder.

in eldermourne, this is less tangible. however; the betrayals and the children of the trickster. this cycle of betrayal is the biggest divine influence that remains in eldermourne. the blades are tied up in it, due to their ties to cerenysus and the betrayal by the blades who sided with moxora. walder is tied up in it, as i mentioned before, and he remains in his undead form because of the influence of moxora. jabari is influenced by the prophet-ed king into betraying his friends. the ghost dragon, an otherworldly being, is created by pain caused by mortal actions. and then the crown ritual, at the very end. when moxora, disguised, betrays them and shows irina the third mates "betraying" their ideals, out of context. and the last use, with henry, is as he steps up to end the cycle, one that he had been a part of before.

it's all mortals and the otherworldly, and the places they meet. it's hardwon and his mortal allies, standing together on the premise that you don't broker a deal with someone who says they're a god. and, at the same time, it's hardwon and his allies finding strength in the kingshammer's magic to stand against the avatar of one. it's the ways the two influence each other. an intervention by one onto the other. sometimes they draw strength from each other, other times they're opposed. it's a song that is dire, and also hopeful. oftentimes, which of those is the case is determined while the song is playing.

tl;dr: kingshammer has a lot of uses, but it's very consistently used to represent (divine) weapons, and the interactions between mortals and the divine/otherworldly. when applied to hardwon specifically, it has a lot to do with his journey as a hero and accepting that that's what he is.

(also, since i'm writing this before either happens: don't be surprised if it's used for the ice knife (the weapon) and/or the final serpent whenever we meet it. both of these have a high chance of getting kingshammer applied to them considering everything that's been set up about the ice knife and also, y'know, serpents.)

in conclusion: you can pay careful attention to the music in naddpod, but watch out. you might accidentally write 2.5 thousand words about a song. thank you for reading.

and go listen to kingshammer-- aside from all the meaning it also just kicks ass.

notes, disclaimers, etc:

for the purposes of this, if the song loops, it's part of the same use. if it is used later in the same episode, it's noted separately.

this is mentioned above, but not every use fits 100%. murph and emily very deliberately use music throughout the story to inform it, and also sometimes kingshammer is just the right song for a moment. both are true.

as a follow up to that, i'm not claiming that all of this was the specific intention. i'm just saying that when you look at kingshammer's uses as a song, there are some pretty strong themes, and it's fun to examine those.

i am not perfect. this is for fun. if i missed one, i'm sorry, feel free to point it out, and also i'll edit this post if that's the case

i would once again like to call out alli operationslipperypuppet for her help. she pointed out the divine connection first, and in general helped immensely. and, if naddpod music interests you, she's another person who often goes insane about it.

i am not above doing this for other songs, if you're interested let me know (few songs are as prolific as kingshammer, however)

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