rayne-storm - Tumblr blog

rayne-storm · 9 months

Text

A Regular Creep

AUgust 17 - Retail

Fandom: Dracula

Summary: The gang works in a mall in a very affluent neighborhood.

The girls keep noticing that a regular shopper, potentially a manager/owner at a store (they aren't sure since they usually work day shift) keeps hanging around.

He poaches Mina's fiancee, a contractor who primarily works with making things OSHA compliant, now stuck on the night shift but saving money for their future house, which is good, right?

Then he brings Lucy over, and he keeps trying to corner Mina…

*****

"Honestly, Mina, he's probably just shy. You know how those nocturnal types get," Lucy tutted.

Mina shook her head, shuddering slightly. "Jonathan says he's very… bubbly? Excitable?" She shook her head.

She didn't trust it. The guy had been coming in for weeks now. He was becoming a real creepy regular, always staring and saying nearly nothing, and had already poached her fiance to work for him at the high-end jewelry store/Cafe combo (seriously, who did that??) across the mall from them.

Now she barely got to see Jonathan, always too busy with work or too tired from it to do anything. Sure, the money was really good, and they almost had enough for a down payment on their dream house, but that wouldn't be worth it if he was too exhausted to be there with her. Or actually get married.

"You worry too much. He seems nice. Even asked if I wanted to work there part-time."

For some reason that just gave Mina an even worse feeling.

"And you want to go to that place? The people there look like they're even nastier than here!"

"You know I can handle it. Besides, if I hate it, I'll quit. Easy peasy." The girl winked and Mina sighed.

"Fine… but text me so I know you get there and home safe."

"Sure, sure, mom."

***

Three months later, and Mina was increasingly more worried.

Lucy barely had time for her, and had completely neglected the "I'm alive" texts for weeks. Mina only knew as much because one of Lucy's roommates would text her when they saw her slink in at absurd hours. Arthur, Lucy's main squeeze, usually heard from her once every day or two, and he'd let Mina know as well. Bless him.

Jonathan was still overworked at a night job that left him so tired he barely lived in the daylight hours. Mina would try to get him to quit, but he would talk about the money. No one else would pay a retail legal guy this much, he said.

The worst, though, was that the creep still came around, still stared, but now he seemed to be growing more confident, or maybe bold. He knew her name. Would look for her specifically when he came in, ask her to help him find the same things, make her ring him up.

The managers wouldn't listen when she complained, since "he hasn't even touched you." She was on the verge of quitting.

"Ah. Miss Mina, there you are."

Dammit. He'd found her hiding place.

"Hello, sir. How can I help you today?" She plastered on her Customer Service Smile, hiding her true hate behind it.

She hated this man. The way he looked at Lucy and now her. The way he would always make some remark about Jonathan's work ethic. The way he hovered, just above her. Never touching her, no, but that didn't make her feel any less gross.

"Ah. I was needing some help finding my things. You're so smart and good at this… your service is always top notch, as well. You're sure I can't convince you to coke work for me? I'm sure Miss Lucy would love that, and your fiance Harker."

She didn't say what she really felt about that request.

"Sorry. I'm just too content here. Works much better with my schedule."

"Oh, that's right, you're a student, yes? Literature?"

How did he know that?? Lucy, probably. Or his little goon that John swore up and down would stalk them around campus. The kid was a store manager, somehow, but they always saw him on campus, no matter the time of day.

She just nodded, already knowing what he wanted, and he followed along so closely she felt his breath on her neck.

"Your usual, sir?"

"Please, my sweet Miss Mina. Call me Vlad."

"Of course, Mister Vlad. Sir."

She hated it.

But until he either touched her or someone else complained, or she graduated and got a better job, this was how it was.

"Oh thank you, sweet Mina. You are such a delight."

She wished Quincey was here. He always had a way of keeping her out of the creep's way. But he had finals. She understood, and wished she was studying too. Anything to be away from here.

She tuned the man out as she grabbed his things, the same every night, and rang him up.

He departed, as always, undressing her with his eyes as he did.

One day, she'd leave. And on that day, she'd let the creep know exactly how she felt.

#my writing #rayne writes #fanfiction #august 2023 #au-gust #dracula #mina murray #lucy westenra #jonathan harker #quincey morris

1 note · View note

rayne-storm · 9 months

Text

Flirting with Danger

AUgust 16 - Circus

Fandom: Hyperdrive

Summary: Stella/Sol

Stella is a helping hand at the Carnival, not talented enough to have any kind of act of her own, but brilliant with animals and kids. She has a crush on the newest attraction. Could it be mutual?

A/N: just a silly little thing that happened when I tried to picture what these two would be doing in a circus.

****

To watch Solomon throw knives was to watch a master work. The precision and strength were art in themselves, and Stella could never help staring when she passed by his acts. It was mesmerizing, and she was only human. Not that anyone like her had a shadow of a chance of being with someone like him.

It wasn't to say she was ugly or anything of the sort. She thought she was pretty enough, in an earthy way, and her figure was one earned by years of hard work on a farm that she left only to help here. But everyone knew that the help and the stars didn't really intermingle. Not in a lasting way. The light of stardom, even here, was simply too bright for most.

She was content to watch from a distance as he performed, satisfied that she could at least have that privilege. Maybe he'd know her name eventually, if either of them stuck around long enough. That would be amazing.

She wasn't expecting to be asked to assist.

"Now, Miss, forgive me. I see you all the time, and it's really amazing to see you work, especially with the animals, but I don't believe I've ever caught your name?"

She can scarcely believe it. He had asked for volunteers as she was taking a break and watching him for a moment, and he settled on her. Here she was, mere feet away from the man she fantasized about.

"S-Stella," she managed to squeak out.

He grinned and took her hand in his, bringing it up to his lips.

"A Star, indeed," he purred, and turned back to the audience. "A massive round of applause for my lovely helper Stella, if you please!"

People actually clapped, and he had her stand against a bright red wall. There were no previous holes, which was nice, nothing to try and cram herself within. This was almost too intense to be real. But he had knives in his hands, and he was saying something about remaining very still.

Not that she could move under the intensity of his gaze anyways.

As the knives went in around her, it felt… romantic. Sensual, even. One landed between her knees and he winked, and she thought she was going to die and ascend to Heaven itself.

The world was silent save the sound of metal piercing the material behind her, and she was numb to everything but the sensation of blades zipping past her, tiny breezes blowing her curls around ever so slightly.

It was over all too soon.

But rather than say goodbye, Solomon held her hand after their bows, pressing another lingering, searing kiss to her knuckles.

"You were perfect. How would you like to be my partner full-time? Nobody's ever been as still as you," he praised, and for a terrible moment she thought he may have missed during the show, tragically killing her, and this was indeed Heaven.

"What? You want…me?"

"Oh, very much so, but even just as co-performers would be fine," he purred, and that wink made her legs weak.

"I, I would love you- to. I mean to."

Dammit.

He merely grinned and pulled her in for a proper kiss, resting his forehead against hers when he pulled away. "I might just love you too."

#my writing #rayne writes #fanfiction #august 2023 #hyperdrive #stella x sol

1 note · View note

rayne-storm · 9 months

Text

Empty Futures

AUgust 15 - Time Travel

Fandom: Supernatural

Summary: Monster of the Week shoots s1 Dean into the future. He isn't expecting Sam to be so open to things. And why does he look… like that?

This is just a baby ficlet inspired by chats with @rpsocsandcanonohmy

****

"Oh fu-"

The curse doesn't leave his mouth as Dean Winchester is shoved through the… temporal tear? Or whatever it was. The next thing he knew, he was rising unsteadily to his feet. Where and when was he?

He wandered a bit, realizing he recognized the area. Foresty, but familiar. It felt nostalgic. If this was where he thought, there would be a bunker right… about… there! Bingo!

He unlocked it and stepped in with a sigh. The state of the place seemed to say it was after his time, not before. He wandered briefly before he heard steps coming, quickly, and was met with-

"Sammy?!"

"...Dean??"

It was his baby brother. No mistake, but…

Besides the obvious signs of aging (at least 10 years, and there were hints of gray in his hair and stubble), the first thing that Dean really noticed was the hurt in Sam's eyes. The pain, the sadness, and something more, just as bad, just as heartbreaking to see.

Before Dean could think much more, he was scooped into a bone crushing hug. It was amazing, being held with so much love, but again, heartbreaking. He had no idea what could have happened to make Sam of all people react like this.

"What happened?" He managed to ask as Sammy eased up a little.

"I should be asking you that."

"Time bubble monster or some shit."

"Fair enough. Let's figure out how to get you back, then."

Dean wanted to argue, say he had all the time in the world, that he was here, now, and could take away whatever was causing the hurt in his brother's eyes. But he couldn't. He had a Sammy back in his time that he needed to get back to just as much.

***

The work went surprisingly quickly. Older Sam had an incredible mastery of his researching skills, and so much more knowledge than Dean could ever recall even Dad having. It was amazing to see his little brother so effortlessly finding information, working through ideas and problems each. And to work with him without the usual weeping, wailing, gnashing of teeth and all.

He almost didn't want this to end.

Sam wouldn't tell him much of what had happened, and he knew that was for the best, frustrating as it was. He could guess plenty. Like the fact that this Sam had lost his Dean somehow. The way that he looked at Dean, with a misty sort of sadness, like a bad scar that ached on stormy days. The way he was extra touchy-feely in a way past Sam would die before becoming. The way Sam sometimes cried at night when he thought Dean couldn't hear.

Dean wanted to stay. To comfort him and promise that things would be okay. That he'd fix it. Somehow he would survive whatever took this version of himself out. He almost said as much, but decided against it, refusing to hurt Sammy any more than he obviously already had. So he'd be a perfect helper, and try not to forget this later.

***

They were an amazing team, and soon it seemed something had clicked. And he couldn't hold his big question in any longer.

"Sammy," he began, as Sam worked on some hocus pocus to send him home, "am I the reason for all that pain in your eyes? Did I hurt you? Do I hurt you??"

If it was a yes, he'd kill himself before making his version of Sam go through it. He'd do anything to take that haunting sadness away.

For his part, Sam looked up, expression unreadable.

"No," he said at last. "It's just time. We went through a lot. Both of us."

"And how long ago did future-me die?"

Sam gulped hard, and Dean wished he hadn't asked. Clearly it hadn't been long enough to stop hurting so badly Sam got teary about it.

"Sorry, Sammy. You don't have to answer. I shouldn't have brought it up. I'm sorry," he mumbled, grasping his baby brother and holding him tight.

"I'll make it right," he vowed, "whatever it takes. I… I'll fix it. Just you wait."

Sam squeezed back tightly.

"That's nice to say, Dean. But you're gonna be busy. I know I don't act like it right now, but… past me is going to need his big brother. Don't… don't change. Just be there."

"Always," Dean said.

"Good. Now you need to go back. I don't think much time should have passed, if anything."

A big rip opened up, looking exactly like what had brought him here. Dean took a deep breath, hugged Sammy again, and stepped through.

He'd do better.

The next time he saw that Sammy, and he swore to himself he would, there wouldn't be any of that hurt. His Sammy would be happy. Even if he had to do it all over by the time he got there.

#my writing #rayne writes #fanfiction #august 2023 #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester

2 notes · View notes

rayne-storm · 9 months

Text

Dies Irae, Dies Angeli

AUgust 14. Angels and Demons

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera

Summary: Erik, the Opera Ghost, died a long, long time ago. His body did, at least. But there's obviously something haunting the Opera House. A demon has come back to play.

A/N: this is just a snippety bit that I've had on my mind for a while that I might do more with later!

****

The misshapen incubus glared from his seat atop the chandelier as the little people ran about with their manufactured emergencies. Always such haste for inconsequential problems. A wig not powdery enough, a music stand with a squeak, a shoelace too short, problems problems problems. It was all so tedious to observe, but was a necessary evil for his true love: music. Opera, musical theater, concerts, concertos… all were soothing to his fiery soul. It was all he needed to be happy.

Until he saw her.

"Miss Daee, is it? Like the Swedish violinist? Descended from the musicians and craftsmen?"

Christine nodded politely, hands clasped in front of her. "Yes. Gustave was my father, may his soul be at peace," she added, taking in their reactions. Glib sadness, the kind when one knows of the deceased but never met them. Good. They'd not pry into her past beyond the niceties, see nothing more than the stars.

"And why have you chosen the Paris Opera House for your first performance?"

"It holds a dear place in my heart. My parents always spoke fondly of it, the way the sound carries and the building seems to have a beautiful life all its own. It really is second to none…" she leaned in conspiratorially, "despite what Sydney may want the world to think."

The delighted, rather pompous agreement signaled she had succeeded in acquiring a short residence.

The managers spoke of rehearsal schedules, practice spaces, all things well and good, and of course she could stay within the building, yes it was fine to walk around for inspiration occasionally, perfectly safe, etcetera, etcetera.

She tuned out the blathering, polite smile never wavering, as she took in the building. Old, beautiful, full of character and dignity. She loved these places, not just for the architecture or history, but for the spirits they carried. Usually wholesome, delightful things, spectres of musicians or actors, the lingering memories of cherished performances, the emotional highs and lows imprinting the space with beautiful light.

Unfortunately, it was a spirit of an entirely nature that brought her. She felt the markings in her skin tingle slightly as she felt the air shift. Something was here. Something decidedly out of place with the musical crowd. With luck, she could remove it peacefully. If not, she'd drag it back where it belonged.

Christine Daee was, after all, the most gifted exorcist this side of Rome. When she wasn't busy maintaining her solo career, she was ridding the world of evil. It seemed a little cliche, maybe a little anime, opera singer by day, demon hunter by night, but it was her life and she loved it.

Her favorite part, however, was never the expulsion. It was when she could save someone or something from the darkness. She hoped she could do so here.

***

He watched the beautiful woman as she was escorted through his opera house, heart pounding as she effuses over the building and its charm. It seemed she would be performing, when rehearsals for the current project were through, and had chosen this place specifically for her grand season debut.

Erik hadn't felt stirrings like this in ages, but he knew well how vipers hid behind pretty faces. He tried to control the runaway feelings he had for this newcomer, at least until he could find out more. She could be terrible, after all.

But then they insisted she test out the stage. She stepped out, seeming sheepish and uncomfortable, but when she opened her mouth, it was like the host of heaven itself was singing through her. Her voice was divine, beautiful, otherworldly. Erik knew that she had to become his. His own Angel of Music.

#my writing #rayne writes #fanfiction #august 2023 #phantom of the opera #phan fic #erik the phantom #christine daae

0 notes

rayne-storm · 9 months

Text

A Desperate Proposal

AUgust 13 - Fake Dating

Fandom: FE3H

Summary: Sylleth / Sylvain x Byleth

Byleth really will do anything to help her students, though they feel more and more like "colleagues" every day, even pretend to be in an engagement with one.

Sylvain's parents insist on meeting the girl he's finally managed to snag. Surely, after all this time, he's found someone, right?

Sylvain begs his professor to fill in, just for a dinner, maybe spend the evening at his parents' place, just so they'll leave him alone! He isn't expecting to actually catch feelings for his attractive friend and mentor…

*****

"Ya gotta help me, teach! My parents just won't stop with this nonsense!"

Sylvain was into his dramatics early, it seemed. She tilted her head, encouraging him to explain.

"They're insisting I bring a girl home to meet them this weekend. They won't take that I don't have anyone. They're threatening to cut me off and disown me!"

Well, that did indeed warrant some dramatic wailing. She had heard the horror stories of noble families, especially from her Ashen Wolves. And other noble students. And the non-noble ones, thinking more about it.

"What do you need of me?" She had a sinking feeling.

"Just pretend to be my fiancee for like, 2 days maximum. If they think I have that, they should leave me alone for a while. Enough time to maybe actually settle down," he added with a sigh.

Byleth nodded, then, much to Sylvain's delight.

"You mean it? Oh you're the best! Meet me back here after you pack! I promise I'll make it up to you somehow!"

With that, he ran off to… somewhere, and she was left with a rather intense sinking feeling.

****

When she returned to her room, still the same small dorm she'd lived in as a professor, she couldn't hold back the anxiety that had managed to build since the moment Sylvain had opened his mouth earlier. She sat on the bed and took steadying breaths, clutching the ring she wore as a necklace now, the only tangible gift her father had left her, beyond the clothes she wore.

What would be expected of her? How did a fiancee act?? Would she need to be chatty and catty and the other things that all the women in her life were? And even then they were all so different! Would she want to be demure and sweet like Mercedes, or fiery and bright like Dorothea? Clingy? Standoffish? What did Sylvain - and more importantly, his parents - want in a girl? She had a crest (and far more than that, but she certainly wasn't about to say it), which was something she knew was important to them. Enough so to disown their oldest child. Did she really even want to impress people like that? Sylvain certainly seemed to have a great bit of disdain for those types of decisions…

She thought briefly about just asking the man what he needed her to be. But that seemed just as daunting. She'd never had an easy time with speaking, articulating anything that she wanted or needed, even since she had become a professor. Her needs were simply secondary to those around her, and she was happy with that. She liked to care for others, to protect. Now, to be in a spotlight… it unnerved her even further.

But she would never know if she didn't ask.

She would ask.

Absolutely.

Any minute.

……..

Perhaps she'd just ask when she saw him next naturally. They would have to travel, certainly. And she knew just enough about the world to be able to pack things that should be adequate. A gown, perhaps two? They were gifted to her by Mercedes and Manuela, who insisted she needed clothing appropriate for formal functions after she'd worn her usual armor to a recent celebratory ball. She'd tried these dresses on, they fit fine, so they would do (even if she hated how exposed she felt in them). Along went a pair of sandals she could wear with them. Then knives. A few more knives. Some very small knives. Bandages, just in case.

All in all, she filled her entire small bag. Surely that would be enough. Almost too much? No, no, she had to believe in herself. This would work.

She walked back to the hall where Sylvain had said, and waited, trying to ignore the pounding in her chest.

She could do this.

***

Sylvain wasn't very surprised to see that the professor was already packed when he returned. He was surprised she'd managed to fill an entire suitcase. Though judging by the weight of it in her grasp, it had to be more metal than cloth.

Oh well. It was fine. She was a warrior Goddess or something, right? He trusted she knew what she was doing. She was the most capable woman he knew, after all

"Are you ready?" He asked, smiling brightly as she looked up.

She nodded, and his smile grew. Classic teach.

He led her out to the monastery gates, where a nice carriage was waiting. She glanced it over with surprise.

"What? Didn't think I was gonna make you walk, did you?"

She looked down bashful.

Ah.

"Nah, nobles get uptight about that sort of thing. Come on, put your bag here," he said, opening a storage space at the top.

She hesitantly did so. Seemingly afraid to scuff anything up. It was cute.

He put his own bags beside her, amused at the sight. The last time he'd traveled with a lady, he'd had to hold his things as hers took up the whole space. Just one more thing to love about the professor.

But he couldn't keep calling her that, especially in front of his family.

But…

He realized with a start he didn't have a name for her. Well, that wasn't entirely true. Her father had been Jeralt Eisner. So her surname was Eisner. But he couldn't just call her "Miss Eisner," or "Professor Eisner," right? No that was absurd.

She noticed his concern, setting a hand on his knee and tilting her head in question.

"Sorry, uh, not to sound weird but… what's your name, professor?"

She looked a little shocked herself, but it quickly became a small smile.

"Byleth."

"It's pretty," he said reflexively, and he swore he didn't imagine a tinge of red on her cheeks.

"Thank you. It will be… unusual to be called that. But I will do my best."

"What do you mean?"

"Well…" she considered a moment - always so thoughtful in her words - and responded, "you and the others all simply call me 'professor.' Or something close to it. Jeralt and the mercenaries just called me 'kid.' I… I can't remember the last time someone actually used my name…"

Oh. That was… sad, honestly. Names were important. And hers was so nice.

"Well, get used to it," he began with a grin, "cause that's all I'm calling you for the next two and a half days!"

She smiled back, giggling even. It was rare to see such emotion from her (such positive emotion, anyway) so blatantly on her face.

He couldn't help falling in love, just a little more. Maybe he'd ask her on an actual date after this...

***

The rest of the journey was blessedly uneventful. They stopped once to eat and give the horses a break (and Byleth thanked the driver so sincerely, the man looked taken aback), and Byleth spent most of that time looking around the small tavern, picking at her food, and listening to others.

Sylvain thought it was a nice change of pace from the girls that chatted every moment of the day.

They got to the estate before dark, and Sylvain insisted on carrying Byleth's case. It was, 100%, more weaponry than anything else, and he marveled at how she could hold it with such ease. It was easy to forget how incredibly strong she was.

He managed to get the things inside, allowing a servant to make the rest of the trip to their rooms. He didn't envy the guy.

"Mother, Father, this is Byleth Eisner," he introduced when they came go greet their guests.

"Oh it's so wonderful to meet you! I was beginning to fear our dear boy would never find someone! And he and his crest aren't getting any younger!"

His mother's laugh was catty as ever, and he forced himself to keep his smile.

He did note that the professor- Byleth, her name was Byleth- had a flash of anger, nearly hostility, cross her features before she schooled them back to her usual stoic look. He doubted anyone but himself noticed it, but it was nice to see his feelings weren't singular.

She plastered on a frankly pleasant smile and bowed, and his parents' bewilderment only widened his grin.

"She's a wonderful girl," he said brightly, "a fighter and scholar, you know. All befitting the Crest of Flames…"

That schooled them right back into awe and delight, and scarcely believing their incompetent youngest boy could do so well for himself. When they began to talk about potential children, however, Byleth began to look uncomfortable, and he took her arm, pulling her close.

She looked a little surprised, but didn't fight it.

"We've had a long journey. I imagine you'll want us to look presentable for dinner…?"

His mother tutted and conceded and his father went back to his chair and his cigars and his books, his usual pre-dinner ritual.

Sylvain let out a relieved sigh as they made it to his wing of the house.

"Sorry about them. They're just…" he floundered a bit.

"The same parents who disowned Miklan," she offered softly, squeezing his hand.

He nodded with a sigh, wiping his face.

"The same. Luckily we only have to be here two nights. If you'd rather not spend dinner with them, I can make us up an excuse, or-"

She shook her head adamantly, face one of determination. She would see this battle through, as she had all others, from the front line.

He chuckled softly. "All right. Well, I'll meet you down there when you're ready. There should be a maid in your room to help with anything you need."

She nodded again, and marched into her temporary quarters.

Damn, he loved her. Maybe... this could be something more.

***

Luckily for Byleth, the girl assigned to help her was kind and talkative. She didn't bat an eye when Byleth dropped her clothes and tugged on a dress, merely came over to help lace it up.

She was also very pleasant when she insisted on doing up Byleth's hair. Which was good, as the professor had no idea what she was doing in that department. She could tie it up, or maybe do a simple braid, but that was the extent of things.

Makeup was similarly foreign, though the girls at the monastery occasionally had her model lip paints. Those days were, she thought, fun. Now, however, this was business. Battle, even. And she was the best at battle. Right?

For additional courage, she put her father's ring on her finger, letting the warmth of the metal soothe her. Besides, it wouldn't do to be a ring-less fiancee.

She was so, so grateful the sandals were flat, as she didn't think she could face the grand, curving stairs in a heel any greater than the small ones on her boots. Especially not with how her hand gripped the railing. She found herself terrified of disappointing Sylvain, and second-guessing every aspect of herself. What if she was too quiet? Too stoic? What if, now bared to the world as she felt, she was hideous? What if?

The doubts died a fiery death, however, when he saw her, and his expression shifted into one she'd seen all too often at the monastery, though had only recently come to understand: the man's face was twitter-pated, as her father would say. Lovestruck, even. It changed into something gentler as she felt her face heat up. He took her hand, kissing her knuckles delicately.

"You look amazing," he murmured, breath tickling her ear.

She blushed darker and tilted her head sheepishly.

"I mean it," he insisted, and looped his arm around hers.

"Now, shall we? Who knows? Maybe that ring'll move to my finger after we get back." He grinned and boldly kissed her cheek.

As she blushed and fussed and whined, she found she didn't hate the thought.

#my writing #rayne writes #fanfiction #august 2023 #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #sylvain jose gautier #byleth eisner

0 notes

rayne-storm · 9 months

Text

Preventing Eventual Crashes

AUgust 12: Space Pirates

Fandom: Dragon Age Origins

Summary:

Warden Mahariel leads a (pirate) ship to try and unite the cluster against the tyranny of Loghain - the Navyman who betrayed his king and the Grey Warden Fleets.

Kanaia doesn't let anyone else take the helm, not for any longer than a couple of hours. Sten forces her to take a rest.

*****

The Warden's Revival, a small (stolen) vessel from the heart of the human side of the cluster, raced along the asteroid belt, weaving in and out of danger like a needle through thread. Her destination was the Denerim Circle, a moon dedicated to (imprisoning) the cluster's Mages. Her captain was trying to recruit as many as she could to take back the cluster before the Archdemon sailed in to destroy everything. They would be a great help.

Captain Mahariel, Kanaia to her friends, sat at the helm, as always, steering them masterfully through the belt. She hadn't slept in a couple of days, subsisting on a terrifying brew she'd concocted in massive batches, a recipe from her home world. It had caused other members in the party to develop intense jitters when they'd tried it, even Zevran, who had at that point been able to keep up with all other caffeinated beverages he'd tried. Sten, massive as he was, seemed least effective, but even he described the sensation as "unpleasant, even for this planet system."

It was therefore equal parts terrifying and awe-inspiring to see the woman look so calm and focused after seven cups (that they'd counted), flying them at a breakneck speed through a veritable minefield.

No one was going to tell her to stop, though.

Except the resident "joykill."

As they slowed, approaching a planet where they could refuel, Sten stayed behind with the captain.

"Kanaia Mahariel," he rumbled, standing in front of her.

She startled, glancing up with a sheepish expression. It seemed even the captain needed a period of rest, if only to think.

"The lockpicking failure is taking over when they return. You will sleep."

"What? No, Sten, I'm fine, I-"

"No. You and I are going to your room and you will sleep. Before you pass out flying and kill us all. And you will. No one can stay awake forever."

Before she could object, he scooped her up in his massive arms, and she was asleep before she could even protest.

No one bothered the pair while she got her rest, though gossip abounded about whether this was a practical move only, or if the Qunari had a soft spot for the elven mage.

It became a pattern. When they docked, Sten would unceremoniously abduct the captain and force her to rest. She was no good, he said, if she was dead from exhaustion or worse.

No one said anything when he started calling her "Kadan" after she found his sword, either, but Zevran grew a cheeky smile that wouldn't go down even when he was forced to scrub halls in retaliation.

If it kept him from angrily brooding, and her from crashing them into a planet, and everyone from dying before the official coup or facing the actual demon from hell, they could do whatever they wanted.

#my writing #rayne writes #fanfiction #august 2023 #dragon age #dragon age origins #sten of the beresaad #warden mahariel

1 note · View note

rayne-storm · 9 months

Text

Evenings of Stardust

AUgust 11 - A/B/O

Fandom: The Outer Worlds

Summary: Vicar Max is an unmated Alpha, having taken vows (or so he says) to remain so for life. In reality, there simply hasn't ever been anyone - omega, beta, or otherwise - who sparked his interest for more than just a romp. As a priest, of course, it is his duty to aid those in times of distress, and as he has done in the past, he offers his services to this new captain: an omega woman whose cryo-induced heat-blockers are going to wear out any day now (if his nose is still trustworthy).

His usual iron-solid self-control, however, may just slip and crumble as her usually ice-cold facade melts away to reveal someone just as vulnerable and alone as himself…

*******

Maximilian DeSoto was an alpha. He had never taken a mate, and thought that he never would. Officially, the reason was a vow of semi-celibacy for his work as the Vicar of his tiny town. Sure, he was there to lend aid to omegas in need, and was renowned for his self-control and discretion in those matters, but he never sought his own self-pleasure. At least, not with anyone else.

Truthfully, the reasoning was a little less spiritual and a little more self-important. He'd never found an omega he felt attached to, or that seemed worthy of his time and efforts.

He hadn't expected his new Captain to be any different.

She was intriguing, to be sure. Impossibly old, but her awakening also landed her a naivety that he couldn't help but find rather charming. She was stoic, cold, even terse and snappish at points. But she also had, hechad noticed, a tremendous capacity for compassion and gentleness. She was smart and savvy and clever. But never a know-it-all. Never obnoxious. He hadn't even clocked that she was an omega until some weeks after they'd boarded the ship and began their wild little galactic quest.

But omega she was, and whatever blockers or suppressants they'd pumped into her for the journey over were starting to fade. He could smell it as keenly as any omega he'd ever known. He didn't know if she realized it was happening, and he decided it was in her best interest if that didn't end up public knowledge. So when he felt the time was near, he insisted the other crew take a holiday. Go anywhere but the ship for a week, and he gave them plenty of fun money.

****

He knew that was the right call when he entered the hallway her room was in.

"Oh Captain," he cooed softly, soothing her as best he could, alpha pride fully on the line here. She smelled incredible. Better than anything he'd had before. His usual brand of iron self-control was slipping quickly.

Thankfully, she didn't seem to mind.

He didn't realize when he bit down hard enough to claim her for himself amidst their tumble.

He felt very embarrassed about it when his head cleared, holding her possessively to him over an hour later. She didn't seem to mind, thankfully.

"I'm scared," she admitted softly in the first hazy afterglow.

"What in the worlds of?" He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Everything, to be honest. Did I ever tell you what my job back on Earth was all those centuries ago?"

"No, it wasn't crusader, or adventurer, or professional athlete?"

"No," she said with a self-deprecating chuckle, "I was a librarian, trying to be an author," she murmured.

"You're kidding."

"Not even a little."

"My sweet, brainy captain," he cooed, kissing her neck where he'd marked her as his.

"No wonder you're so cool under pressure. I've read legends of the troubles libraries often faced."

"I suppose. I think the bandits are a lot worse."

"Don't worry, I'll keep you safe if you ever need it," he assured her, reveling in how she seemed to melt into him.

"My sweet Vicar Max," she replied, yawning and falling under. She'd need the rest, if that first bout was anything to go by.

So Vicar Max found himself a mate, and the world started to make more sense as his Path began to unwind.

#my writing #rayne writes #fanfiction #august 2023 #the outer worlds #vicar max #maximillian desoto #max x captain

3 notes · View notes

rayne-storm · 9 months

Text

The Mermaid of Melody Farm

AUgust 10 - Merfolk

Fandom: Harvest Moon/Story of Seasons: Wonderful Life

Summary: Player Character / Gustafa

Willow has inherited the family farm, but she has a problem: it's hard to be a mermaid in a nosy town!

One night she takes a dip, and gets a shock when someone spots her….

A/N: I might add onto this one later, but I do like it short and sweet!

********

It had been two seasons since Willow had come to to take over the family farm, and life was… interesting.

She hadn't expected such a warm welcome, honestly, but everyone seemed happy to meet her and offer their support. Takakura was as surly as she remembered, but he also had that warmth in his hugs she had missed.

She'd always had a knack for the natural parts of life, raising animals, gardening, things like that, and it seemed that she would be able to have a perfectly fine life here in Forget-Me-Not Valley.

Except she had a secret:

Her father, may his memory be a blessing, had been a human, 100%.

Her mother, may her soul be at peace, had not.

They met, or so they said, on a dreamy beach when he shipwrecked a little sailboat on a desert island, and she pulled him from the wreck. Willow wasn't entirely sure that was the truth, but it didn't really matter. She came into the world with gills and a tail that had, fortunately, become a pair of fine legs quickly enough.

Due to her father's genes, she could live on land for the most part. Her mother gave her a sea-longing, though, and a physical, life-or-death need to be fully submerged in water a certain portion of time, at which point her gills and tail would show up (a neat evolutionary mechanism, her father would say). With experimentation, she calculated that she could get by comfortably on about 10 minutes a day.

Luckily, there were ponds all around the valley, as well as a river that fed right into the ocean. She had no shortage of fresh water. The problems came when the villagers never quite stuck to a strict schedule. And they seemed to love being wherever she was sometimes. As nice as they all were, this wasn't good for the solitude she needed to comfortably soak. And she knew what would happen if people found out.

Her mother's death had been proof enough of that. Sailors had caught her in a net, and she'd become a freakshow attraction until her husband, Willow's father, had shown up to help her escape. They didn't make it home.

Willow wouldn't let anything like that happen to her.

In the two seasons since she'd arrived, she'd made do with the shower, but that wasn't going to last. She'd have to brave the outdoors eventually…

2 A.M. seemed like a decent time to sneak out. No one would be awake, surely, and she could use the pond near the little sprite guys' tree (she still wasn't entirely sure what they were, beyond very friendly). The coast was clear enough, and she didn't hear anyone as she sunk into the beautiful blue water.

It was blissful, letting herself sink just enough for her tail and gills to come out to play, floating serenely and letting herself just be. It had been exhausting being so dry for so long, not letting herself wade too far into the ocean or river when she'd needed to fish. She'd earned this.

She didn't know she'd fallen asleep until a loud gasp woke her up, causing her to flail around in a panic. She didn't even see who was there before she leapt out of the water (the pond simply not big enough to hide in by going down) and ran as fast as she could towards Melody Farm.

She nearly made it, too.

A loose rock sent her falling hard, knocking the precious little air she'd gulped in straight back out. She didn't know if she was more terrified of discovery, or embarrassed of the noise she'd made hitting the ground as footsteps came towards her. Maybe she'd explain it away as hallucinations. Maybe they'd just blackmail her or threaten her or something and not just kill her outright. Maybe-

"‐Okay??"

Wait, what?

Two hands came down and looped under her arms to help haul her up. She blinked blearily as she was set on the ground, and one of the hands made it's way to her cheek. It was soft, warm. She couldn't help leaning into it as she tried to clear her head.

"I said, are you okay, Willow?"

"I'm….what?"

"Okay, let's get you home and sitting down, hold tight."

She was picked up like a bride and she tried to make out features in the darkness. Failing that, she shut her eyes tight and held onto the mystery man, who seemed like he wasn't, in fact, about to make her into sushi or sell her to the carnival?

She kept her eyes closed (and tried not to get motion sick) as he managed to get her inside her cabin and set onto her bed. She opened her eyes again and was very surprised to see two beautiful blue ones staring back down at her, brows raised in concern.

"Better?"

She nodded meekly.

"Good. That was quite a fall. You really worried me."

"I… sorry?"

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have scared you so bad. I was just surprised is all. Not often you see the impossible here, you know?"

"...."

He chuckled as she tried to figure out what to say, but it was… kind. Warm, like his hands.

"I don't think I've ever seen you without your glasses," she managed to retort, "so that's two impossible things."

Gustafa laughed and shook his head.

"I dropped them chasing after you. Don't worry, they're probably fine. Really, though, are you okay?"

She nodded.

"Just embarrassed. I'm supposed to be graceful, you know."

"Sure, sure. I gave you a real fright, you weren't in top form or something, right?"

"Right… how much did you…?"

"Well, I really thought I'd gone crazy when I saw your tail. It's really something lovely, you know."

She couldn't help blushing and shrugging.

"Seems more like a curse, sometimes."

"Why?"

"Because people would… it's not safe, for my kind."

"Merfolk?"

She nodded again, pulling her knees up to her chin.

The musician smiled gently, and gently placed a warm hand on her arm.

"It's okay. I don't think anyone here is like that… but your secret's safe with me. You're not the only non-human person I've met."

"Have you met a lot of merfolk?"

"No, you're my first, I'm proud to say," he answered, beaming.

She couldn't help a soft giggle, shaking her head.

"There we are… there's that lovely smile. Would you like a song to cheer you up?" He asked, pulling his favorite guitar from his back.

She nodded again, laying back down as he started to play.

"Let's hear a tale before we part,

About an apple sweet and tart…"

She listened until she couldn't help falling back asleep, his soft voice soothing her as well as any of her mother's lullabies.

Maybe it could be a wonderful life.

#my writing #rayne writes #fanfiction #august 2023 #harvest moon #story of seasons #sos awl #gustafa #gustafa x pc

2 notes · View notes

rayne-storm · 9 months

Text

Mr. E and Lizzy Grimm

AUgust 9 - YouTube

Fandom: original work haha….

Summary: Chalemaux x Elizabeth

She's wasting her PhD discussing fairy tales and folklore for internet strangers.

He's an ancient being… who likes to talk about history for internet strangers.

They get requests for a collab.

A/N: yes these are entirely original characters from a story I've been working off and on for the past 3ish years. Is it written down at all? Hahaha hahaha no. Do I love them anyways? Absolutely.

***********

"-And that will do it for our history lesson today. This concludes our tour of Bram Stoker's London. Please do let me know what period of history that we should explore next. This is Monsieur E, goodnight."

***

The comments section was wild, always, but something new caught Chalemeaux's eye:

"Beautifully done as always, Mr. E!! Have you ever thought of doing a collab with Lizzy Grimm?"

He'd never heard of that person before, but the commenter helpfully left him a link to her most recent video. Amusingly, it was about tracing the origins of the Victorian Vampire. Well, he would see how accurate she was.

Intrigued, he pressed play.

***

"-And that's all for today's journey through the bloody, sexy world of Europe's Vampires. Thank you, as always, for your love, support, and suggestions! If you have a favorite fairy tale, folk tale or other piece of past mythology you want me to cover, please leave that in the comments below. This is Lizzy Grimm, signing off!"

***

Elizabeth looked through the comments on her latest video - a really fun look at the origins of vampires as they were presented in Victorian and Romantic-Era literature: Carmilla, Varney, Dracula, the like.

The few people that followed her and left comments were always delighted by this sort of thing, it seemed, but one in particular sparked her interest:

"I loved this, Ms. Grimm! Would you ever do some kind of collaboration with another channel? It would be so much fun to see you and Monsieur E work together!"

Oh, she knew of him. The beautiful history youtuber that she'd followed since practically day one of his work. His deep dive into the Jack the Ripper case had inspired her to start her own channel, using somewhat similar methodology (in addition to what skills she was currently "wasting" from her time getting her PhD). She would love to work with him on literally anything, but there was no way he'd notice a nobody like her. She had just enough followers and sponsor money to keep the lights on, and that was fine for her.

She replied to the sweet comment (as she tried to do to all of her non-troll comments), a thank-you and self-deprecating something-or-other about how he was definitely too busy doing his work and far too popular to notice her. It read fine. She tried to put the whole thing out of her mind and went to bed.

***

Well, this channel was positively lovely. The host - one Lizzy Grimm - was also rather lovely, as well, he thought idly. She had a way with words that was magical, and he could tell that there was a passion here for her work. He remembered a time, eons before, when he felt the same way about history, and research, and the mess of it all. Fond days running around with the poets and historians, trying to make beautiful the ugly universe.

He spotted the comment on her channel asking about working with him (it was one of only a handful on the video), and the response broke his heart a little, honestly. That she didn't seem to feel worthy, but did seem to know him? Interesting.

He looked up her username in his own followers, and was shocked, perhaps a little humbled even, to see that she was there… and she was his first. He remembered, blearily, just starting out. Every follower was a miracle, it seemed.

Looking further, she had commented something encouraging on every one of his videos. Admittedly, he had been blessed with quick success (a perk of being conventionally attractive and niche), and they soon got lost in a sea, but there they were…

Well, now, of course he would have to reach out. Even if nothing came of it, he simply had to let her know how grateful he was for her support.

***

She couldn't believe it when the email popped up in her notifications. It had to be a prank. Or someone pretending to be him. But no.

"Dear Ms. Lizzy Grimm," it began, proper and eloquent like he was, "I'm Monsieur E, as you may know. I am actually him, even, and not some kind of hacker or other ne'er-do-well playing with your time. I am unsure how else to prove this, so please see the attached screenshot of you, my very first follower."

She looked, and indeed, the screenshot was there, on his channel, and… yes, it did appear she was his first follower. It felt like some kind of sacred honor, now, honestly. She hurriedly read on.

"I was approached by a commenter, who seems to have also reached out to you, requesting we collaborate. I would like you to know that I would be extremely honored to do so. I would like to meet up, if possible, to go over these details, and perhaps just talk with a fellow history and literature lover. I understand this is very unusual, and perhaps feels unsafe, so do feel free to tell me to shove right off, and I will do just that.

Thank you, so much, for your support. It means the entire world to me.

Yours Truly,

M.E."

Well, that… happened. He wanted to meet her. The impossibly handsome history king wanted her, wasting her life, average nobody, to work with him. He wanted to meet her in person. It felt like some kind of dream. Of course she'd do it. That he even bothered to mention that it could be sketchy to meet in person was very considerate. She quickly shot off a response and tried not to hyperventilate.

***

He hadn't been expecting a response so quickly, but there it was, shiny and unread in his inbox. He immediately opened it.

"Monsieur E,

I was surprised and, admittedly, thrown off when I saw your email. You were indeed correct that I didn't believe it was actually you at first. The screenshot has me mostly convinced.

"I would love to work with you, yes. And to meet up. A café or something similar would be perfect, a neutral, populated place where we could both feel comfortable that neither is going to murder the other. I live right near Galway, though I'm not native, as you may guess by the conflicting accent, and I believe in videos you have mentioned that you live more North? I don't mind taking a train to meet up somewhere in the middle, if that is convenient? I have friends in England and Scotland as well, that I can stay with if needed, if we want to do in-person collaboration.

I am very excited by the potential of working together. Thank you for everything.

Yours truly,

Elizabeth G. Bennet."

Oh. She had used… well that certainly appeared to be an actual name. He felt his heart warm and speed up, and re-read the missive several times. She actually wanted to meet up! And she really wasn't that far away! Hell, he thought he had a place in Killarney or Cork, and that wouldn’t' be too far of a drive… Oh, he had plans to make.

And a future collaborator, perhaps… even a lover? To meet.

#my writing #rayne writes #august 2023 #original characters #original work #Chalemeaux E. Hannibal #Elizabeth Grimm Bennett

0 notes

rayne-storm · 9 months

Text

I'm Not Asking For the Moon

AUgust 8 - Wildcard: Arranged Marriage

Fandom: DA:I

Summary: Solas x Lavellan

He offers an arrangement- a practical arrangement - where he will take care of her, and in return she keeps him company, shows up as a pretty face when he needs to go to fancy places.

And maybe she can learn to love him, given time.

A/N: this is sort of a songfic? Based on "Practical Arranfement" by Sting. I know it isn't the traditional set up for an arranged marriage, but I like it well enough.

******

She's uneasy, as usual, around the mysterious elder. He showed up, one day, and everyone seemed drawn in by his charm, by his intriguing manner of speaking, how he seemed to know things no one else did. The way he looks young and old at the same time, knowing and youthful, perhaps eternal. It makes the hairs on her neck stand up and her ears twitch.

He could look at you, and it felt like he was poring over your soul.

She's uneasy. But never disrespectful. She's uneasy. But willing to talk and listen when he's around. And she does appreciate that he, in, turn, listens when she speaks (rare though it is).

The others treat her with a wary sort of respect, but that's about it. She's an outsider. Fade-touched. Even in their clan, she is unusual. Some say a harbinger, some say the second coming of a Goddess. Her face remains unmarked, as no one was willing to mar her skin. She doesn't like that she feels naked compared to the rest of the clan.

But he too is unmarked. And doesn't look at her like an oddity, or a devil, or anything more than a person. It would be nice if she didn't also occasionally catch him staring in a way that felt… possessive. Predatory. Like a wolf.

He comes to her, one day, asking if they might talk. Alone. Her hairs stand up on the back of her neck, she feels her ears twitch slightly. But she knows that even if he tries something, she is fast, she is cunning, she can fight. So she agrees, and they walk through the park near where the clan is camped, pausing by a fountain, the running water obscuring other sounds.

"Lady Lavellan, I-"

"Please, hahren, call me Winter. That is my name."

His ears duck slightly, a nearly endearing gesture, and he glances down.

"Of course. Winter. I… have thought, considerably, about my current situation, and yours, and I would like to… offer an arrangement. A practical arrangement."

That bids poorly.

"What sort, Hahren?"

"Please, Solas. Just Solas. But… it would be… a union, if you will. A meeting of our respective assets. A joining."

"Solas, are you proposing?"

He blushes at that, and can't hide the flutter of emotions that pass over his usually serene, stoic features.

"Perhaps. I… I'm not asking for the moon, not promising some kind of paradise. I… am lonely, I confess. And you are… you feel, I think, like an outsider. Like me."

"Not like you, you're a respectable sort. I'm… a black sheep."

"Not to me."

She doesn't know quite what to say to that. It's honest, she can tell that much. His eyes dart around her face, looking for any sign that she feels any which way about this.

"What all would this entail? Would I just be a warm body to you, ease your loneliness that way?"

"No!" It is swift and biting. The mere suggestion seems to offend him.

"No," he repeats, softer, "We could sleep in separate beds. You wouldn't have to cook for me, or even learn to… I just… admire you, greatly. You are intelligent, clever, strong. You are more than capable of accompanying me on my journeys, and… maybe you could learn to love me, given time…"

It won't be difficult, if he's really like this. Soft. Strong, still, knowing still, but… gentle. The Wolf domesticated. It's still a lot to take in, more even to think about. But…

"I think I could, yes."

She can't help admiring the way the blush continues to settle on his features, or the pale blue of his eyes darkening slightly as they widen.

"You… accept?"

"Yes. When shall we get married, hahren?"

"As soon as you are comfortable, da'len. Ma vhenan."

Oh. Now she's the one blushing. He's really laying all of his feelings out. For her. Just her. It could go to her head if she isn't careful.

"I think that the clan leader is free tonight. If you're alright with that."

"I am."

***

They are married in a quiet ceremony, and Solas keeps looking at her as though she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, even in her secondhand dress, her hair hurriedly braided up by flustered women who make no effort to hide their shock… or dismay.

She knows that there are girls around the small field (where the nuptials are performed) dressed in their finest, hoping to sway the man into some manner of last-minute change of mind. But he doesn't so much as glance their way. His focus remains on Winter, bare faces a match in nerves, in tints of red as vows are exchanged, in tunnel-vision as the ceremony winds to a close.

"May I?" He asks gently, when told he might kiss her, and she surprises herself by nodding.

It's sweet, gentle, but promises more. Much more, should she simply ask.

Perhaps she can come to love him sooner than he thinks.

****

As Thedas erupts into chaos, as an anchor is seared into her unlucky hand, Solas is there. His face is horror and pride and relief when she seals the first Rift, his hand holding her arm up when she begins to feel faint.

He knows more than he lets on.

She was perceptive before, to the workings of the veil and the fade, and now the edges of his silhouette dance, touched by spirits and fade whispers. She isn't sure how she feels about learning more and more about her husband every day. When they can be together.

Her time, suddenly, begins to be consumed by others, by strangers worshipping her as the Herald of a Goddess she doesn't believe in. It weighs her heart down and she can all but feel the way her demeanor shifts, becomes lined and wan.

But still, he looks at her like some kind of miracle. Like the moon or stars. He still talks to her like a person, not like a devil or a Saint.

He stays with her, when he can.

They still sleep in separate beds. But now he waltzes with her in dreams. One night, he dares to steal another kiss, and she wakes up breathless.

***

The Inquisition is breached, and she doesn't know how she's survived when she wakes up in a camp far away, to his face gazing down at her with concern, with fear, with something she doesn't recognize. He holds her close and murmurs sweet nothings in Elvhen. Promises to be by her always. To keep her close, to protect her.

He doesn't leave her side for an instant until she can walk on her own. A doting husband, the kind she used to dream about as a little girl. That little girl wouldn't believe her if she described the man she would marry. It would be impossibly wonderful, and terribly strange.

He stays by her when they break camp to find a stronghold he promises is waiting for them in the Hinterlands. Skyhold is indeed a thing of great beauty, the stones humming as she walks through the old keep.

***

They waltz at an Orlesian ball, alone on a balcony, where wicked eyes can't see them. He murmurs how proud he is of her, how far she's come. How he knows how hard it is to be here, with this room full of serpents.

"Do you know," she begins, resting her head on his chest as they say to the music, "that I didn't think it would happen so quickly?"

"What, vhenan?"

"Ar lath ma," she murmurs, and his eyes well up (she didn't expect that), and he kisses her for the third time.

She invites him to sleep in her chambers, if he would like, from then on. It would ease her mind to have her husband close. The man and his counsel both.

It was a practical arrangement. But he gives her the world.

#rayne writes #my writing #august 2023 #fanfiction #dragon age inquisition #da:i #solavellan #solas #lavellan

5 notes · View notes

rayne-storm · 9 months

Text

Bodied

AUgust 7 - Android

Fandom: Mass Effect Andromeda

Summary: Ryder/SAM

SAM has a surprise for Ryder!

*******

"SAM, you've been awfully quiet lately," Sarah Ryder began, gazing over to the little sphere of light in her bedroom, taking comfort in the way the reds and golds of his dock shimmered and pulsed. Like a heartbeat, nearly.

"I apologize, Sarah. I have been busy, today."

"Busy? Moreso than usual?"

"Yes, indeed. I have… a surprise for you."

Sarah raised an eyebrow, looking at his little home base incredulously.

"Oh yeah? Is this like the surprise where we discovered you can stop and restart my heart?"

The little ball dimmed considerably, and she would have found it funny if he didn't look so… sad.

"No, I hope this is nothing like that. I hope it is… good."

"Well alright then. Is this a surprise I get to see soon?"

"Yes. I believe everything is ready," Sam agreed, and she could have sworn he sounded… eager. Excited even. That was definitely something new for SAM, who was usually calm, nearly blasé at all times.

"Please do not panic, but it is coming in through the door," SAM announced.

Both eyebrows shot up at that, and Ryder nearly leapt out of her skin when the door did indeed open and shut.

She didn't know what she was expecting, but it certainly wasnt…this. A humanoid bipedal figure with nearly doll-like quality. It had ball joints and appeared to be able to flex its fingers as it walked into the room.

"SAM what the hell is this???"

"It is…me, Ryder. A new way of being beside you. I have created a mechanical form, that I might better help you."

She didn't really know what to say, so just kept staring, slack-jawed and vacillating rapidly between terror and intrigue and more.

"....do you like it?" The body asked.

"...it's new, that's for sure. You look… good."

Honestly, he looked rather handsome, for a robot.

"How did you choose what to look like?" Sarah asked curiously, looking him over.

"...I wanted to be appealing to you."

"To me? Why?"

"Because you are the one I am closest to. You are the one I want to be closest to, always."

The voice was soft, with flecks of emotion that SAM had never really displayed before. Sarah kind of liked it.

"I enjoy being close with you as well, SAM," she admitted with a smile, "no one gets me quite the way you do. Not even Scott. I like it."

She could have sworn the robot looked sheepish. But he tentatively walked over, and she hugged him.

"Let me see what else this can do."

#rayne writes #my writing #august 2023 #fanfiction #mass effect andromeda #SAM x Ryder

0 notes

rayne-storm · 9 months

Text

Tough Love

AUgust 6 - Blind Date

Fandom: Record of Ragnarok

Summary: Thrud/Raiden

Thrud is understandably nervous and perhaps a little upset when she's sent on another blind date by her sisters, bemoaning the evening she's about to have.

She's sure it'll go as it always does, and hurt her even more than she has been.

She isn't expecting a man like Raiden to be waiting at Ragnarok Cafe.

A/N: Thrud is my beloved girl and I love to see a big girl find love. She and Raiden deserve happiness 😊🥰

*******

"Come on, guys, are you serious? Another blind date?"

Thrud sighed and shook her head, folding her arms over her muscled chest.

"Yeah!" Goll exclaimed, "it'll be amazing! He's a little bit intense but you'll love him! When have we ever steered you wrong??"

"Every single date I've ever been on until now," Thrud replied dryly.

It wasn't even hyperbole. Thrud had never had a successful date in her life. Men never knew what to expect with her, given how stunning all her sisters were, and she didn't know if she could handle another bad date.

The way it usually went was like so:

Thrud shows up, trying to reign in her emotions and mentally prepare herself, and easily spots her date: whichever man has a look of shock and worry on his face.

She tries not to flinch as she has to deliver the terrible news that she is, indeed, his date, and yes, she is really the 3rd Valkyrie Sister.

The look on his face is one of horror, and she has to try not to let it hurt her the way it always inevitably does.

Minutes later (sometimes two, sometimes twenty), he has an excuse and leaves her all alone, trying not to cry in public as yet another painful rejection breaks her heart a little more.

"Okay, sure, there have been some duds. But this guy is the real deal. And if he breaks your heart, we'll beat him up! Maybe!"

It was cute, almost, how unflinchingly positive the girl tried to be, even in the face of such impossible odds.

"Fine. But I'm never, ever doing this again. I don't think I'll make it through another one of these," Thrud finally agreed.

Goll cheered, and she was whisked away for pampering and prettying-up ("not that you need any extra help for that," Brunhilde always said). The date was later that afternoon, so at least it wasn't like her whole evening would be shot if things didn't work out.

She'd give it one last try, she decided, and when this inevitably went to shit, she could always get cats or something.

As she walked into Ragnarok Cafe, Thrud steeled herself for the look of wild bewilderment and horror on the face of whatever poor man was roped into this. The Cafe owner was a nice enough guy, and always made sure it was regulars only whenever the Valkyrie sisters set up a blind date. That way Thrud wouldn't worry about freaking out more people than necessary. Probably better for business that way, too.

As she bowed slightly to get through the doors, she heard a soft gasp. Ah, the mystery man was there already indeed.

She raised her head up to find the poor sap, and spotted him quickly enough. Black and blond hair wrangled back into a messy ponytail, piercing dark eyes framed by heavy lashes, and a muscular build (at least from what she could see). This one would hurt her, he was just her type…

She couldn't decipher the expression he was making in the slightest. It was shock, yes, but not the usual creeping dread, or sudden horror, or anything she'd seen before, pretty much ever. It threw her off-guard enough to lose her composure just for a second:

"Not expecting a monster like me, huh?" She blurted, raising an eyebrow.

She scarcely registered the sound of his chair scraping backwards before he was throwing himself at her, face right at her chest.

She was too stunned to move, and could only watch, frankly aghast, as he looked up at her through his thick eyelashes, contently buried in her bosom.

"I love big girls," he sighed in delight, and she realized his expression before had been… eager?

"Excuse me??" She managed to gasp, "this isn't funny."

She tried to push him off, but the man held firm, face moving to properly look up at her (though it was a bit comical how his cheeks smushed in).

"I would never joke about this. You're exactly my type. My damn dream girl," he said earnestly.

Sue couldn't help it, she knew her face was turning the same strawberry color as her hair. She felt like a maiden or something silly.

She had a head and shoulders above this strange man, but he made her feel… delicate, nearly.

"You're an odd one," she managed.

"So I've been told. I'm Raiden," he added with a grin.

"Thrud."

He sighed again, ecstacy clear in his every facet.

"Thrud… I'm gonna marry you."

"Oh yeah…?"

"Mm. Mark my words. I'm never gonna let you go."

"Whatever you say, pal. But just know that I've always promised myself that I would stay with the man I love until the day I die. You really up for that commitment?" She asked, only half-kidding.

"...is it too soon to bring you home to my mom?" He fired back, and she felt her face heat up all over again.

"Probably," she stammered out. He had to be able to feel how hard her heart was hammering in her chest as she added, "at least buy me lunch first."

He grinned brightly, squeezing her tight (it was, frankly, amazing to be held like that) before pulling away.

"Whatever you want, my angel. Or can I call you baby? Would that be too much?"

She blinked, brain firing on all cylinders.

"I'm like twice your size," she squeaked, following as he took her hand and led her to their table.

"Yeah, and? I could die a happy man if you let me call you my baby girl," he sighed with a smile, pulling out her chair.

She felt like she was about to die herself.

"I, um, yeah, sure. Whatever."

"Great. Order whatever you want, baby, and then how about a walk in the park? Maybe see some fireworks later?"

It honestly sounded like the perfect evening.

"....maybe you will marry me," she blurted, and he laughed brightly, booming, perfect.

"That's the plan."

She'd have to make Goll her maid of honor. The girl really had delivered this time. She felt herself falling hard, and had the feeling that this might just turn out okay.

She still felt butterflies as he dropped her off at her house that night. Her mind was a whirl, and she couldn't believe it was over already. She surprised herself by not wanting it to end, even.

"I… would you like to come in for coffee?"

He raised an eyebrow, and she worried she'd overstepped, at least until he broke into a grin.

"Baby girl, if I go in there, I definitely won't be able to stop at just coffee. I don't know if you're ready for that kind of passionate night. I don't stop until morning."

Yes she felt every ounce of bravado laced in those silver words, but she also felt that he meant every bit of it, and was genuinely interested in… well.

No one had ever so much as kissed her. This was an entirely new beast indeed.

He laughed, and reached a hand up to cup her cheek.

"You're adorable when you blush, sweetheart. I'll let you go tonight. We can meet up again tomorrow, yeah?"

She nodded numbly, and her blush only deepened as he put his other hand on her face, cradling it like something precious.

"I wouldn't say no to a goodnight kiss, though I get it if that's a little too fast for you."

She shook her head, heart about to explode outside her chest and take them both out with the force of it.

His grin only widened and he pulled her down to meet her lips with his, still smiling even as he kissed her.

This was new.

This was wildly unexpected.

This was wonderful.

As he pulled away, lipstick staining his mouth, he whistled, low and sweet. He'd liked it too?

"That was incredible, baby. You have sweet dreams tonight. I definitely will. Call you tomorrow?"

She nodded again, numb and on fire all at once, the tiniest smile playing on her lips, and he leaned back to peck them once more before stepping back, waving.

He didn't leave until she was in her home, door closed behind her (a perfect gentleman to the end), and she about screamed in joy.

Maybe their second date really could be a wedding. She didn't think she could ever let him go.

#august 2023 #my writing #rayne writes #fanfiction #record of ragnarok #thrud x raiden #Thrud #raiden tameemon #thrud ror #raiden ror

13 notes · View notes