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storyowlwrites · 9 months

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The first part of my recent trade with @sheocheese! All of these are for Vampire the Masquerade

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Note: Like all games in the World of Darkness series, Vampire the Masquerade is rated for Mature audiences of 18 years or older. I do not go into super gritty detail in these stories, but please be advised if this is the first bit of VtM related media you ever see!

A Meeting:

Lucas silently turned to the guest that was visiting the monastery he called home. Pausing, he pretended to have noticed the sound of her walking, but he could see her clear as day. Slightly taller than him, she had the look of somebody who was used to physical work. She clearly stood out amongst him and the other members, with her boots, jeans, and leather jacket.

He noticed the engagement ring on her left hand, and made no comment.

However, after that, he noticed that she was closely regarding him. She decided to break the silence, “Ah, pardon me, do you speak German?”

“Yes, yes I do!” He smiled up at her, “What can I do for you, miss?”

“Gisela.” She looked towards a more quiet place, “May we speak in the area behind you?”

“Do you have a confession? We could go there.”

“Are you sure nobody will hear us, Father?”

“Of course miss Gisela, follow me.” He turned, starting to carefully lead her towards the confessionals, tapping his cane around. The small congregation that was currently gathered seemed to part out of instinct, creating safe passage for the two. Reaching their destination, they parted ways and went in on their sides. Everybody made sure to stay away, giving them privacy.

Lucas did not expect what would follow.

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. I used my abilities in public.” Wait, what? “And I found that you, Father, are kindred like me.”

He was realizing that’s why she wanted nobody to hear. Sitting in silence, Lucas let Gisela continue.

“I have also figured that you can see me,” shit, “and that is not my actual confession.”

“What did you want to confess, my child?”

“I killed the man who turned me into the nazis back in Germany.” Oh, ohhhhh. “I still wear my triangle, and I gave my parents the justice they deserve. And I will never regret it.”

“You have not sinned, my child, but instead helped keep God’s word strong and safe. Now, may we speak somewhere else?”

“Of course, Father.”

The two stepped out of the booth, walking towards a more quiet space in the monastery. Avoiding his sire’s office, he stepped into a small room. Gisela followed in behind him, and Lucas turned to her. Without needing to be told, she closed the door behind her. Noting that they were now in complete privacy, he removed his sunglasses.

“How did you know I can see?”

“You tilted your head up to look at me when I came over, with no indication that I was taller than you.”

“Oh, clever. Now, Gisela…what clan are you? And please, call me Lucas.”

“Toreador, one of those annoying artsy folks,” she let out a laugh, making him feel more at ease. “You are not obligated to tell me yours, however.” The eyes seemed to give it away, but she clearly felt no need to comment on it.

“Thank you, and I do have a more casual question.” She rose an eyebrow. “Who put that ring on your finger?”

“My fiance, Lana.”

He chuckled, “It is nice to meet a fellow member of the community. Now, Gisela, I hope in the future we can be allies in…certain causes against certain people.”

She smirked at him, “Oh, of course Lucas. Here, let me give you my address. If you ever need to come to Los Angeles, I would be happy to host you.”

He returned the smile, “Oh, that would be perfect. Thank you Gisela.”

And they both knew this was the start of a wonderful, powerful, working relationship.

Oscar Meets Noel:

This was Brenna’s grandsire?

The woman standing across from Oscar had a strange feeling about her; like she was very close to being in the last threads of humanity. The way she stood, arms crossed, watching him closely, made him feel extremely uneasy.

The way she seemed to brighten up when Brenna entered the room took him by surprise.

Noel relaxed a little as the younger kindred walked over to her. The two whispered something to each other before she turned to him, a strange look in her eyes. It was the look of someone who didn’t really care for most people, and she was clearly trying to figure out if she cared for him at all. After a moment she spoke, “So, Oscar, what brings you to LA?”

He tried not to nervously laugh before responding, “Oh, you know, personal reasons I’d rather not get into.”

“Completely fair. Good response, you never know who will do something…unsavory with any information you give out.” She walked over to him, leaning down to look him in the face, “Well, as long as you’re good with Brenna, you’re good with me. Just don’t break that trust, understand?”

“Clearly.”

The way she smiled at him sent shivers down his spine. It was the smile of somebody who’d been around for so long that the joyful expression felt unnatural to them. Leaning back, she turned away, “Glad to hear it. Pleasure meeting you Oscar, but for now, I have business.”

Oscar and Brenna watched as she walked out, closing the door behind her. Oscar relaxed, turning to the younger kindred, “So uh, what was that about?”

“Well, I did want to tell you earlier, but she was here before I could.”

“What did you want to tell me, exactly?”

“Noel’s over four hundred years old.” Oh, that explained so much.

And she was Brenna’s grandsire, too.

Lucas Lands in LA:

Lucas and his ghoul Alessio stepped out of the private plane that their host graciously rented for them. This allowed them to skip most of the bother one associates with getting on planes. The stop over they had the night before on the east coast also helped a lot, letting the two of them get food and stretch their legs.

Going through the whole rig-a-ma-role of getting their luggage, the two walked out to the pick up lane. Alessio, covering for the fact that Lucas wasn’t blind, put a hand on his shoulder, “I think I see her.”

Sure enough, Gisela’s mini-van pulled up to them. Putting it in park, she got out and walked over to help them with their luggage. Lucas quickly noticed that she was wearing heels that night, causing her to tower over him slightly. After putting their luggage in the trunk, she spoke, “Alright, you’re all good to get in.”

Alessio “guided” Lucas to the sliding door of the mini-van, opening it before helping him get in. Lucas buckled up as the brother climbed into the seat next to him, closing the door. Gisela climbed into the driver’s seat, buckled in, and started to drive away after they were all settled.

Lucas looked at her, smiling, “I’m excited to meet Lana, she sounds like a lovely woman.”

“Why wait?” The voice caught him off guard before a person appeared in the front seat. Ah, right, Nosferatu. The somewhat anxious looking woman looked at him from the front passenger seat through the rear view mirror.

“Lucas, this is Lana. Lana, this is Lucas. I tend to keep her in the front seat so I can translate any ASL easier.” Lana gave him a little wave as they drove away from the airport.

His head turned to look at the city as the more interesting bits came into view. Something about it thrilled him, and he could feel a slight eagerness to explore. He was well traveled at this point in his life, but well…the thrill never eased. And he hoped it never would.

“Welcome to LA Lucas, I hope you enjoy your stay.”

“I know I will…I know I will.”

Lucas Meets Brenna:

Gisela brought Lucas and Alessio to a small, local hang out. Since the inside was kindred only, the Lasombra’s guide was allowed to take a break and chill out for a little bit in a side room for ghouls. He was alone for the time being, but hey, he wasn’t needed here.

“Hm, wonder if there’s anybody…” The Toreador’s voice trailed off as she opened the door to what was a lounge room, spotting somebody. Lucas looked over her shoulder, spotting a young woman sitting on a couch, reading a book.

“Ah, okay.” Gisela lowered her voice to a whisper, “So, that’s Brenna Addams. I’ll warn you now, she takes a minute to warm up to most people. And uh, don’t do anything that’d make the oldest member in her coterie mad.”

“Why’s that?”

“Noel’s over 400 years old and you don’t wanna piss someone like that off. Shall we?” Lucas nodded and she led him inside, going over to the woman. “Hey there Brenna.”

“Gisela, nice to see you.” Her eyes wandered over to him and he, for a moment, saw a visible change in her expression. “And who is this?”

“This is Father Lucas, the one kindred I mentioned hosting. Though I’m sure he’d be fine with just Lucas.”

“That’s correct. It’s nice to meet you, Brenna.” Gisela’s phone made a sound and she pulled it out. The other two watched her pull it out and tap at it before sighing.

“Hey, I gotta take care of something just down the street. I’ll be back shortly. Behave.” Before either could ask who that last comment was for, she turned and quickly walked out. The door to the room closed behind her, and they didn’t move.

They were alone, and Lucas had a feeling that Brenna wasn’t thrilled.

Lucas sat in a nearby armchair; close enough for the two to have a conversation, but far enough to give her some space. The two sat in silence, with Brenna clearly not down for having a conversation. However, after a moment, she did speak up, “It’s nice to meet you, Lucas.”

That brought a little smile to his face as he relaxed. Pulling off his sunglasses, he looked around, thinking about the other kindred’s body language. Reserved, blocked off; she had even wedged herself against the back of the couch. What had she gone through in life to make her so? Who hurt her?

They both looked up as they heard somebody else come in. He expected Gisela, but was greeted by a man. They watched him walk over, pausing before the Lasombra. Smiling, he stuck out his hand, “Hey there, I’m Oscar.”

Lucas smiled back, reaching out and shaking his hand, “A pleasure Oscar. I’m Father Lucas, but Lucas will be just fine.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Brenna visibly relax a little at the sight of the third kindred.

“Oh, hey, kiddo?” Brenna perked up. “Leon said that he’s going to call you soon.”

“Oh, thanks Oscar. I’ll head into the other room so you guys don’t have to listen.” Standing up, the woman walked off to one of the doors at the back of the room. Opening it, she slid in and closed it.

Waiting to see if she popped back out, Oscar turned to Lucas and lowered his voice, “You’re wondering why she’s so stand offish, eh?”

“Even curiosity gets to somebody like me, Oscar.”

The bearded man thought about it before continuing, “Her mother dumped her in foster care when she was four.” The Lasombra had a feeling he knew where this was going. “And she spent fourteen years in it. Lots of bad families, lots of time in the psych ward. She ended up living in a group home when she was in high school, that bad.”

“Oh goodness, that sounds terrible. Is she always that tense with new people?”

“Nah, I don’t know why she seems so uncertain of you. I wouldn’t read too much into it, but just…you know why. And she won’t know that you know why, alright?”

“Of course.” The two straightened up when the back door opened and Brenna walked back out. Oscar sat down on the couch she was using, and she plopped back down next to him after picking up her book. Lucas watched quietly before the three of them began to chatter, waiting for Gisela to come back.

And deep down, the priest’s heart ached for Brenna.

Knowing:

Lucas did not think another kindred could unsettle others as much as Noel did.

She sat on a couch, slouched over, arms folded over her legs. The kindred did not seem to show any interest in him, her head turned towards a wall. But he knew, deep down, that she was listening to him. How many languages did she know? How much did she know about him simply by being in the room with him?

After a moment her head turned and she looked at him dead in the eyes.

Noticing other kindred shuffle around awkwardly, Lucas sat down in a nearby arm chair. The older kindred watched him intently, as though quietly deciding what to think about him. Gisela, who he had been speaking to in German, sat down on the end of the couch.

Noel tilted her head slightly in her direction to show she noticed her, but her eyes stayed on the priest. After a few moments she spoke, “You’re the priest that Brenna mentioned, yes?” The way she spoke invoked the mental imagery of a dragon letting out smoke from its mouth; a normal action for the mythical creature, and an unsettling one for the mortals who saw it.

“Yes, that would be me.” Lucas watched as Noel slowly stood up, wondering what was going on. She quietly walked over to him, movements smooth and barely noticeable. Sitting still, he let her lean in, curious as to what she was doing. However, very gently, her forehead rested against his as her eyes closed. Sensing something, he reached one hand up, and he felt her take it.

Closing his eyes as well, the priest started to quietly say a prayer in Latin. The older kindred did not flinch, and he heard a soft sound escape her, signaling she felt comfort in the moment.

As the prayer ended, she slowly pulled away, opening her eyes. Gently releasing his hand, she smiled down at him as his eyes opened, “I like you.” Somehow the news made him feel relieved as he relaxed in his seat. Hearing the door open, they watched as Brenna stepped inside with a couple other people.

And his smile matched the one on Noel’s face.

Skills:

Lucas followed Gisela into the small waiting room. Shutting the door behind them, she pressed a button by the door that led into the connected workspace. His eyes looked to the orange light above the door. “What does that mean?”

“It means she’s working and this door is locked so we don’t just wander in.” The Toreador looked to him, “Safety and all that. When the light turns purple it means that she’s working on shutting down, and the light turning off means it’s okay to go in. For now, we just wait for her to respond.”

She motioned to the small waiting area with its chairs, tiny TV, old coffee table, and multiple magazines. “Go ahead and sit down, who knows how long it’ll be.”

“Gisela, who are we here to see?” She gave Lucas a smile, indicating that he’d have to wait and see. Playfully rolling his eyes at her, he sat down, looking up at the light. After a few minutes he saw the light turn to purple, and he leaned back into the chair as his arms crossed over his chest.

The light clicked off, and a slight bzzzzz sound occurred as the door unlocked. Gisela opened it and motioned for him to go through first. As he did, Lucas turned to see Brenna in a welding suit, the upper half unzipped and rolled down for better movement. He looked her over, somehow both surprised yet not surprised to see her there.

He almost felt bad for not guessing she had skills outside of her musical career.

“Hey Lucas, heard about what you did for Noel…thanks.” He noticed that she seemed more visibly relaxed around him despite this being their third meeting. Was his conversation with Noel that powerful that she felt better about his presence?

He’d like to think so.

She motioned for him to walk over and he did, looking down at the table she was working on. On it were metal sheets that she was clearly cutting up and melting into a project. He noticed that she seemed to be making coins of some sort.

“Collectables,” she said simply, “I make it clear they have no monetary value. They’re nice for people who want tokens from their travels, but nothing flashy.”

“Oh, that’s really nice.” His eyes wandered to the coins that she had finished, sitting on a rack to cool off. “They look amazing.”

“Good to hear because some are for you.” He paused, giving her a surprised look. “Listen, I figured that you’d want something to remember the trip, but not a huge thing. Coins are simple, don’t take up a lot of space, and they’re not flashy.”

He gave her a smile, “That’s really thoughtful…thank you, Brenna.”

“You’re welcome Lucas, I hope you enjoy the rest of your time in LA.”

“Oh, I think I will…I think I will.”

The Gremlin Bell:

Oscar stood in Brenna’s driveway, looking at the motorcycle she had just bought.

There were conversations before about Brenna starting to ride again; how Fleur took her riding, let her drive her bike around a closed track. The musician had even gotten her motorcycle license again, a clear indication that she was ready to start going out on her own again.

Maybe.

“So, you got a bell on that?” Oscar noted the confused look on her face, “I’ll take that as a no.” He pulled a little box out of his jacket before opening the top of it. Pulling out a silver colored bell that was about an inch long and didn’t jingle, he wiggled it at her. “You gotta remember your gremlin bell kiddo.”

One of her eyebrows rose as she looked it over, “My what now?”

“You know, your gremlin bell.” Oscar was greeted with a confused look. “The thing somebody ties onto the bottom frame of your bike to keep you safe?” The confused look continued and it dawned on him. “It’s common practice, wishes the rider safe journeys. The big rule is that you don’t buy your own, makes it unlucky.”

“Ah…I see.”

He almost blamed himself for not knowing that she didn’t have one before, but at the same time, part of him knew it wasn’t his fault. Nor was it her’s, really, because how could she have known? Looking her over, he gave her a smile, “It’s alright kiddo. I’ll get this tied on for ya.”

“Thanks Oscar, I…I really appreciate it.” She watched as he knelt down, tying the tiny leather strap to the undercarriage of her bike. Standing back up, he dusted his knees off.

“So, got a spare helmet?”

“You know I do!” He watched as she ran into her garage, clearly eager to go on a ride with him. Crossing his arms, he shook his head, chuckling to himself at her excitement.

And he found that he was just as excited as her.

Thoughts:

Oscar noted how effortlessly Brenna rode the motorcycle, even with his arms around her. How she’d start to lean just before him for a turn, as though she hadn’t stopped riding for almost twenty years. Something in her clearly remembered, and it was excited to be like this again.

She had found her freedom again.

They’d gone around several blocks together, through traffic, avoiding quiet streets. She followed the rules of the road, didn’t get over confident. He couldn’t tell what was going through her mind, but he could just imagine the giddy grin on her face. The rest of LA moved around them, and them with it.

It brought the same giddy grin to his face.

As they made their way back to her driveway, she eased on the speed, clearly intending to make as little noise as possible. By that time Leon and Magnus had made it into the driveway, watching their return. Brenna eased the bike into a resting position before turning it off.

And Oscar thought about getting one of his own.

#Vampire the Masquerade

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metkapop · 3 years

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Bunker Buddies is filmed in front of a live studio audience

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ahundredtimesover · 3 years

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Inevitable (05) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader (ft. ot6)

Genre/Tags: exes au, parents au, baseball player!JK; angst, fluff, smut (18+)

Series Warnings: foul language, alcohol consumption, minor character death, explicit sexual content in future chapters (oral, unprotected/protected sex but be safe please!)

Chapter Word count: 7.5k

Summary: You convinced Jungkook to break up years ago so he could pursue his lifelong baseball dream. Now he’s back home, staring at you, and the little boy next to you who looks unmistakably like him.

Series Masterlist || Previous || Next

You’re met with silence on the other end of the phone as a response that you start to consider Jungkook having fainted or something. But you hear a long drawn out breath and sniffles instead, and you will yourself not to cry again.

It’s been an emotional night, one you’ve been waiting for, and you wanted nothing more than to deliver the good news as soon as possible.

“That’s… that’s great, ___. Wow, uhm, he really said that? That he wishes I was his Papa? Like, it came from him? He drew me with you and him?” Jungkook asks, voice shaky.

“And Mr. Choochoo,” you add.

“And Mr. Choochoo, of course,” he laughs.

“But yes, that’s what he said. He was shy about it, too but god, Jungkook, he looked so soft,” you huff, a smile on your face now as you recall how Jungwon looked earlier.

“He saw me shocked, though, so he just smiled, said it was okay because he knows whoever his Papa is will find him soon,” you narrate, recalling how that caused you to ready Jungwon for bed immediately so that he doesn’t see you cry, which you did, silently, as you watched him fall asleep.

“God, he’s so precious,” Jungkook cry-laughs.

You bask in the sound of his voice, so tender and full of yearning. And you wish so badly you can see him right now, knowing how important this moment is for him.

“I really wish I could take the train back home tonight,” he says, frustration in his voice.

“You have a game in the morning, Jungkook. It’s okay. Just use it as inspiration. We’ll be here when you get back and we can tell him,” you affirm.

The phone call goes on for another hour as you discuss how you’ll both tell Jungwon tomorrow. You go through different scripts, different scenarios, and possible reactions to make sure you’re ready.

Even with Jungwon’s openness, he’s still just a kid; you can’t truly be certain how he’ll react and if he’ll understand. But you try to focus on the best case scenario and that’s him, taking it all in and accepting Jungkook, loving him the way his father loves him.

You fall asleep with Jungwon curled next to you, enveloped in your arms, in your love, the one you’ve given unconditionally the last five years as you nursed a broken heart and quelled the longing you’ve had for his father.

You knew what you were doing that night when you walked out of Jungkook’s life. It wasn’t a goodbye, although you had to make it seem like it was; you felt that it was the only way he’d let you go. It wasn’t the same for you, though, because you knew that the moment you’d birth your child, you’d be seeing Jungkook every single day - a reminder of what your love can create, and what it can endure. And what you’ll continue to endure for the sake of your child.

It’s a big step, letting Jungwon know. The priority after would be making up for the lost time, the time that you denied them. You can’t say that you regret the decision you made all those years ago but you also can’t say that you’ll make it every single time; you’ll stand by it always, though.

All that time, it at least comforted you that Jungkook was living out his dream, the one that mattered to him more than anything else, because his father mattered to him more than anyone else. He shined so bright in Jungkook’s eyes, and even with the short life that he lived, Jungkook’s father lived it passionately, courageously, fiercely, and with no regrets.

It’s why Jungkook loved him with his whole heart. And it’s what you’ve always wanted your child to feel towards the man who deserves the world. You want Jungwon to always look up to his father with wide eyes and a beaming heart at the passionate, courageous, and loving man that he is, at the man with no regrets.

If things get hard and you can trace it to the decision you made, you can shoulder that regret, you can live with it. As long as Jungkook doesn’t have to. You love him that much. You know now more than ever that you’ll love him always.

It takes a while for Jungkook to step in your doorway as he takes deep breaths. You look at each other longer this time, as you share your first parent moment together - telling your son the truth.

“He’s waiting for you,” you say to him.

Jungkook nods and follows you to your living room where a Bears-jersey clad Jungwon is playing with a piano that his uncle Yoongi - whom he’s never actually met - gave him.

“Hey buddy, you watched my game?” Jungkook asks as he kneels in front of the little one, who timidly nods and proceeds to nibble on his lips.

He’s been quiet the whole day. Your son has this natural ability to feel with others, and you think he saw the melancholic look on your face the night before and probably mistook it for sadness.

“You think I played well?”

Jungwon nods again, avoiding the older man’s eyes.

Jungkook motions him to sit on the couch and you join Jungkook on the floor, eyes level with the little one.

“So, Mama told me you colored Mr. Choochoo yesterday at school. I’ve learned to really like Mr. Choochoo,” Jungkook says, picking up the elephant stuffed toy on the table. “Is it okay if I see it?”

Jungwon looks at his hands gripping each other on his lap, then shakes his head no.

You discussed this with Jungkook, how Jungwon would probably feel shy and nervous, maybe even guilty for wishing such a thing.

“Hmm, is it okay if you tell me how you colored Mr. Choochoo? And if you drew anything else? Mama told me it was really pretty.”

The little one remains silent, eyes still not meeting yours nor Jungkook’s.

“Hey sweetcheeks,” you try, gently lifting his chin up to look at you. “You might have thought Mama was sad last night, huh? You think I got upset after you showed me the drawing?”

He slightly nods.

“I wasn’t upset, okay?” You reply softly. “I was actually very happy. I should have told you that I wasn’t sad at all. I should tell you next time what I really feel, I know that now.”

Jungwon finally looks at you and holds your gaze.

“Cookie is asking to see your drawing because I told him what you said,” and you hold his hands, as his eyes widen, to try and calm him down. “But he’s not sad about it, you see? Cookie was really happy too. And he hopes you can tell him what you told me.”

You and Jungkook let him have his time, let him process things in a way a soon-to-be 5 year old can. Even with this, you still want it to be on his terms, even if you may have led him there somehow.

Jungwon turns to his hands on his lap again, as if contemplating his next words.

“I said I wish Cookie was my Papa,” he whispers after some time; it’s so faint you could easily miss it.

Next to you, Jungkook holds his breath.

“I really wish that too, buddy,” he finally says, lowering his head to meet Jungwon’s face. “But you know what? We don’t have to keep wishing anymore. Because you see…” He clears his throat and swallows hard, prompting Jungwon to look up at him.

“Buddy, I am your Papa, okay? I…” he continues, struggling with his words. “I… You… You don’t have to be scared about it because I’m here, Papa is here. And Papa loves you very much. The way Mama loves you.”

Jungwon looks at you, as if to get your confirmation. You nod at him, affirming him that it’s okay. It’s a very drawn out conversation. It’s torturous but you also know it’s necessary.

“You’re my Papa?”

“Yes, buddy, I am,” Jungkook smiles, the same time the tears stream down his face. “I am,” he whispers repeatedly, so softly, as if begging the little one to believe him.

Jungwon reaches out his tiny hand and wipes the tears off Jungkook’s cheek, a gentle smile slowly forming on the little one’s lips as his eyes get wider. Then he leans forward and wraps his little arms around his father’s neck.

Jungkook is so shocked that it takes him a while to register what’s happening, and he hugs the boy back before it’s too late. Jungwon’s hugged him before but not like this, and this is definitely worth the wait.

“I have a Papa now,” he says, something you pick up, too in the silence that’s enveloping the three of you. At this, Jungkook hugs tightly and shuts his eyes to let more tears fall.

He tries to steady his breath, careful not to be too hysterical because he wants to bask in this, he wants to savor this - savor his son call him Papa, savor his tiny body cling onto him, savor this feeling of holding the one person he never thought he could love with his whole heart because he didn’t think he’d even be able to create someone as precious as him.

“Yes, Jungwon. You have me now, and I have you now, okay? And I love you so, so much,” Jungkook says, eyes still shut at the overwhelming feeling of joy and adoration.

For years he didn’t even know that Jungwon existed. At the first sight of him next to you, Jungkook had this strange feeling of familiarity over someone he’s never met, but those eyes that shone as bright and as wide as his told him something, showed him something that was missing.

The past months of getting to know his son just proved the connection that binds them together, the love that’s meant to exist not just by nature but by will. Jungkook has loved his son since he knew that Jungwon was his and it only made the desire for the truth stronger. This moment will stay with Jungkook for the rest of his life.

And you’re there to witness it all.

By now, you’re standing by the couch, letting the two have their moment. You’ve let but one tear fall because you know that Jungwon’s attention will be brought to you once he sees you crying but you want it all on his father. You want them to have their time together, to let that undeniable connection grow and deepen even more.

Jungkook finally pulls away and looks at his son, who has glassy eyes and a shy smile like him.

Jungwon jumps off the couch and scurries to the room, leaving a surprised Jungkook. But you know what your son is up to. Not long after, he runs out and hands Jungkook the artwork of his family - a very large Mr. Choochoo with him, you, and Jungkook.

“That’s you!” Jungwon declares, joyful disposition now back.

“We’re matching, huh, buddy? You like it when we look like that?” Jungkook asks, sniffing his cries away.

“Yes! I want to look like you,” Jungwon says softly.

“You already look like me,” the older man giggles.

“I want like this,” the younger one states, pointing to the whole ensemble.

They go back-and-forth and you laugh at them, heart warming at the thought that this will be a more common sight in your household now, as you know that Jungkook will want more of this to make sure that his son won’t feel neglected by him.

Any other talk about schedules and what this new development would mean to both of you are conversations for another day, you decide. And you let this be for now.

The scent of beef stew wafts through your whole apartment and you pat yourself on the back for being able to make it as appetizing as this. You knew this had to be dinner tonight, whether things went well or not.

The rice is cooking, the muffins look good in the oven, and the sound of father and son laughing is competing with the thrumming of your heart.

It’s just been a few hours since you and Jungkook revealed the truth, with Jungwon’s reaction so much better than you expected. It might have caused Jungkook a bit of a heart attack but he’ll take anything as long as the little one accepts him.

Since then, the pair has gone on to play a bit of music - with the older man on xylophone duty, and have storytelling, with Jungwon insisting that Jungkook will be the one to read him Lion King from now on because you definitely can’t make your voice as low as Mufasa’s.

You got through two photo albums, too, with Jungkook insisting so he could at least feel like he hasn’t missed much. You were telling stories to the men, answering questions from them both.

There was that first haircut, the first holiday, the first snow. There was that first stroll down the park, the first swing, the first trip to the beach. There were his first friends, his first day at daycare, then his first day at preschool.

In most photos, there were your parents, your brother, your best friend - the constants in your life who have become constants in Jungwon’s, as well, who protected and loved him with their whole hearts, too. And Jungwon has loved them just the same.

You knew there was always something missing, and for some reason, you believe that Jungwon knew that, too.

He never asked to be spoiled by his uncles, never begged for their attention, never asked for more. Even if they were his usual babysitters on nights when you had to pull in more work hours, there was a connection but never the kind of attachment you’d expect from a little kid who probably wonders why he doesn’t have a father that he sees everyday. He clung to his uncles for love and support for as long as they were around.

But he would ask about Jungkook in his little ways, ever since he knew him as the man who fixed his toy airplane, who twirled him around and tossed him up and hugged him with every fall back to strong arms.

He was never rowdy around Jungkook the way he’d be with Taehyung - who sometimes was more of the child than your son - or not as attentive the way he’d be with Namjoon, although even you’d be intimidated with your brother’s professor-tone of voice and disposition.

With Jungkook, Jungwon was himself. Maybe it’s because they’re alike in many ways; maybe it’s because he sees someone who resembles him, laughs like him, enjoys the same things as him. Regardless, it’s like with Jungkook, Jungwon felt understood, seen.

Each man’s love had been deliberate but because Jungkook had loved his son unconditionally since he knew, somehow you can’t help but think that Jungwon always felt that, too.

You think about all this as you watch both of them make figures out of clay, with Jungkook helping and molding whatever shape Jungwon asks him. They look so good together, so free, so full of love.

Your lips begin to quiver as the emotions from last night and earlier today start to consume you, given that you’ve been holding them back for fear of upsetting Jungwon and taking away the moment of father and son.

Jungwon tells you everyday that he loves you, he’s a sweet kid like that. But you know that he’s also capable of loving another the same way, and that person is sitting next to him. He looks so happy, so content, so safe, like how he’s always been with you.

And Jungkook radiates with so much joy, too, with so much love and affection. He looks just as happy, as content, as safe.

As Jungwon lifts up his finished product - a brown figure in white - and exclaims “Papa, I made you,” you lose it.

You cover your mouth before anything comes out to muffle the sound but your wails spill right through, strangled cries and gasps for air filling the apartment now.

Your one hand holds onto the end of the counter as the other one covers your mouth, an insufficient effort to not get the attention of either man just a few feet away. It’s uncontrollable now and you feel your face is soaking wet, eyes stinging from how tightly you’re trying to shut them.

You’re still trying to hold it in until strong arms engulf you, and your face lands on a sturdy chest, the heart underneath it beating almost as fast as yours.

“It’s okay, ___. Cry it out. It’s okay,” Jungkook says, his arms gripping you tighter, hands sliding up and down on your back.

Your hand moves from your mouth to his chest, joining the other one, as they grip on his shirt and you cry, probably the hardest you have in a while.

“I’m so sorry, Jungkook. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to take this all away from you, I’m sorry. Please forgive me,” you sob.

“I kept him away from you for so long and I denied you all this,” you continue in between cries. “I denied you both this happiness, this love. Jungkook, I’m sorry.”

Your words are muffled as you shout it all on his chest, his shirt undoubtedly soaked by now.

But he hears you, he hears everything, feels the beat of your heart and the desperation in your voice and the guilt in your words as you grip on his collar for dear life, as if doing so can heal the wounds that have marked you just the same.

“It’s okay, ___. I forgive you. It’s okay,” he affirms.

He wonders if you had someone to hold you like this during the times you cried, or if you ever allowed yourself to be like this in front of others.

Jungkook wishes that he could have, that he was there for you; maybe you wouldn’t be crying so hard if he was. You wouldn’t have had to carry all this burden by yourself if that was the case.

He remains like this, letting his heat give you the warmth you need, with hope that it could be enough to ease all the pain and worry from before, during the times you were alone, or felt alone.

He continues massaging your back, his lips leaving pecks on the top of your head as if you can feel them, but he does it anyway. He does what he used to do to comfort you, hoping it would work because he never had to do this while you were sobbing, because you never really did that with him. He knew what to do when you were stressed or frustrated or flustered, exactly like this.

He doesn’t know what to do when you cry.

Your breath starts to steady, your tears not waterfalling as they were just earlier, and you slowly pull yourself away. Jungkook lingers though, his hands still on your arms, caressing them.

You’re startled as you see wide eyes staring up at you, a frown now spreading across Jungwon’s face. This is why you didn’t wanna cry, not right now at least.

“Mama?” He calls out.

You carry him because it’s been a mother-and-son thing to comfort each other when one is sad, as such emotion is something you’ve learned to easily share with each other.

“Hey, sweetcheeks,” you say, as you try to wipe off your tears from your face even if new ones fall right after.

He runs his little hands through your tear-stained face, as if they can do more than your big ones but you giggle at the act anyway.

“It’s okay, Mama. I love you, Mama.”

You hug him this time, and you hug him tightly.

Jungkook weakens at the sight, as if he could cry again at this moment. You sounded so hurt crying on his chest earlier and now you look so vulnerable, so scared, things he’d rarely seen you be. But you look so soft, so tender, as you envelope your son in an embrace.

He wants to do that with you too, with both of you. He wants to remove the damp hair that’s stuck on your forehead away, tuck it behind your ear and wipe the tears that continue to fall. But he holds himself back, afraid to undo the progress between the both of you.

Jungwon pulls away and starts to kiss your cheek, the way he always would. You love this part because you’re reminded of just how much of an affectionate and loving little boy he is, and you can’t help but feel comforted and safe.

“Mama stops crying when I kiss her,” Jungwon turns to Jungkook and reaches out his hand, which the older man takes and he’s pulled closer to you both.

“Papa, you should kiss her, too so she stops crying,” he says, pulling Jungkook nearer.

You laugh at this to mask the nervousness you’re feeling, thankful that your warm cheeks can hide how flushed you now are because of your son’s proposition.

Not wanting to disappoint his son - and more, definitely more - Jungkook removes the damp hair from your face, tucks it behind your ear then kisses your forehead.

It’s not much but he lets it linger. He wants to let you know through this the words he’s not ready to say, to give you the comfort he wishes he got to give before.

You close your eyes and just this once, you let yourself feel it, feel his lips on your skin again, feel the words he doesn’t say.

Jungkook looks at you with so much affection, and then he giggles, then you giggle, and Jungwon wraps his arms around your neck and whines that he’s hungry.

It’s so intimate, so real. And you can’t help but feel something for the first time in a long time.

You feel complete.

“Mama, look! Is it nice?” Jungwon asks, as he turns to you sporting an Ironman helmet.

This is the third one he’s tried and you just know he has his tiny smile on behind it. His voice is muffled but you make out the words.

“Yes, bug. But it looks big, maybe look for another one?” You respond.

“He’ll grow into it, it’s the only kids’ size they have,” Jungkook counters, as he helps Jungwon remove the thing on his head and the little one scurries to the next shelf. “It’s the one with the most features and sound effects.”

“What does he need more features for? The lights are fine,” you argue.

“For combat, ___. We need features for combat,” Jungkook deadpans.

You roll your eyes because he’s taking this whole shopping thing too seriously.

After the other week’s momentous occasion, which called for a celebratory lunch with all your friends - including Yoongi and Hoseok who finally got to meet the little one, albeit briefly since they’re new faces - it has been a smooth transition for Jungkook and Jungwon, who all of a sudden have a handshake and secret language of their own. It’s adorable though, the way they whisper and laugh like they’re in their own little world.

You’re currently in a store that houses the best collection of Ironman merchandise - according to Jungkook, who’s apparently done his research - and Jungwon came in looking like he’d entered some wardrobe to Narnia but his face had been the cutest it’s ever been and you take it.

You’ve never been here before because of the intimidating size of the place and you always wanted to limit the toys you’d get for Jungwon; he has enough people spoiling him with those, except maybe your brother who’s taken to giving the little one books and plants instead, because, well, it’s Namjoon. You’re thankful for those, though.

“Do you think the material of this beach towel is as water absorbent as it says it is? Or should I just get this other one instead? But the print isn’t as nice,” Jungkook asks, and you scowl at him because “really, an Ironman beach towel?”

“That’s not necessary, Jungkook, and you said you wouldn’t spoil him.”

“I said I wouldn’t spoil him right away, and it’s been two weeks so I think it’s okay. Plus, look at him. He looks so excited and in awe with everything that’s in here.”

“Which is why I never brought him here but someone was being a baby about it,” you glare at him, recalling how earlier in the day, Jungkook was pouting at you and repeating ‘please’ like a mantra for you to agree with coming here so he could buy Jungwon more Ironman toys.

“I couldn’t resist that face,” he shares.

“Exactly. That’s why I don’t give him an opening,” you say. “But really though, watch him explore and inspect but he’ll only get 3 items max.”

“But he said he liked the car, and the remote-controlled figure, and the one with the combat pack, and the motion-activated repulsors, and the arc reactor…”

You stand with your arms crossed, a knowing look on your face. “Did he say that or you asked?”

“Well, he agreed…”

And it’s taking so much of you not to pinch the cheeks of this grown man who’s been caught in a little lie. Jungkook looks so adorable, the look on his face is exactly how you remember it to be whenever he’d been in a toy store or a baseball store.

“Of course he would. Because you probably looked so excited,” you laugh. “I told you how he is, he doesn’t like turning people down. Plus, he probably wanted to impress you, too, by liking everything you like.”

Jungkook nods in agreement, knowing how his son is. Even with his shy nature, he’s probably the type to quietly sit next to a kid who doesn’t have friends or share his snacks with someone who doesn’t have much.

Jungkook smiles at this, a bit of worry that the little one may be taken advantage of but perhaps teaching him to stand up for himself is a better problem to have.

You both watch Jungwon pick up a few things, inspect them, then return them on the shelf.

“You know he’d be wanting that growing up, right? Getting his old man’s approval, bonding with you like that?” You ask Jungkook as you both walk towards where Jungwon is.

You don’t have to say anything more and what that would imply because Jungkook knows. He’d thought about this a lot, how as much as he wants Jungwon to like the same things he does, he wouldn’t want to impose, wouldn’t want the kid to grow up thinking he has to constantly get approval from his old man.

Jungkook knows what that’s like, and much as he loves his own father, he knows that it was deliberate, too, making him fall in love with baseball.

“Okay, buddy,” Jungkook asks as he kneels down next to Jungwon. “So, you still have some toys at home so why don’t we pick just a few things, alright? Maybe around 4?”

You giggle next to them because Jungkook would always push it.

Jungwon nods and looks at the shopping cart shyly.

“I like everything in this whole store so go get what you want, okay?” Jungkook claims after you nudge him.

The little one smiles and runs to another aisle, with you and Jungkook on his tail. Jungwon ends up choosing a plush toy, a simpler pair of repulsor gloves, an electronic watch, and the helmet that Jungkook said had more features, which is the only one that was retained from the initial choices.

“Yes, okay. I’ll do better next time,” Jungkook laughs, and his heart melts at your cocked eyebrow and triumphant smile.

You all walk towards the counter, a skipping Jungwon in front of you, then you hear a loud gasp that causes even the little one to stop and turn towards his father.

Jungkook stops in front of the clothing section, mouth agape at a shirt that has an arc reactor on the chest, definitely a better option than the toy from earlier. His eyes are wide and you know he’s begging in his head for Jungwon to notice this.

But he doesn’t. The little one looks up and eyes a maroon shirt with a simple Ironman graphic on it instead. It's a kids’ size right next to an adult one, and Jungkook’s face falls a little before he smiles.

“You like that, sweetcheeks?” You ask him, and Jungwon replies with a nod.

“Okay, let’s get it then,” you smile.

“Can you and Papa get too?” He asks.

You laugh at this. “He’s really your kid,” you whisper to Jungkook, whose smile is so soft at the thought of his son wanting matching shirts.

“Of course, buddy,” he says, looking for sizes for all three of you.

You resume your walk to the counter, with Jungkook mumbling that he also liked the “I love you 3000” shirt and was hoping that Jungwon would choose it.

“He won’t get it,” you respond.

“What? Don’t tell me you’ve never watched Endgame!” Jungkook asks in shock.

“I have, he hasn’t.”

“But that’s the best movie ever!” Jungkook exclaims.

“You’ve seen him cry over Toy Story, Jungkook. How do you think he’ll be when he finds out what happens to his superhero? He’s not ready for that. I’m not ready for that! For all I know, you cried so how do you think he’s gonna react?”

“___, I cried in all Ironman movies, okay? Also, I sobbed in Endgame. Like, at the end and then pretty much the entire movie when I watched it again right after. By myself.”

You snort at this and shake your head at him, but you’re also not surprised. Jungkook’s the softest dork you know who’s definitely not afraid of showing emotions like that. It’s why you two worked so well together, and why you think co-parenting Jungwon wouldn’t be that hard, too.

In fact, you know it’s going to be a lot of fun, if the past weeks are anything to go by, especially today. Jungkook has such a bright energy, a contrast to how he is on the field.

Out there, he’s serious, intimidating, and pretty cocky, but that last bit you secretly love for how much of a turn on it is, not just because he has the skills to back it up but because he has this look where he knows he’s good and he’ll make sure the other person will know it, too. You’re not quite sure how Jungwon will take after his father in that way, but you also don’t mind.

Part of the parenting discussion that you and Jungkook have been having include making sure that Jungwon finds his own self, identifies his own passions, and carves his own path. As parents, you’ll give him as many opportunities and experiences as possible, making sure that he feels loved and appreciated whatever he decides to be.

You allow yourself this short moment to imagine what it would be like to do more than just co-parent, as Jungwon pulls your hand for him to hold as his other one holds Jungkook’s hand, too, as you walk out the store.

He sways both his arms and there’s this new kind of glow to his face, a new kind of joy, something that’s more apparent when the three of you are together. You want to see this look on Jungwon everyday if possible, but that might be too much to ask.

The little one tugs your arm and points to the cotton candy stand and you motion for him to tell his father, as you know that it will still take getting used to for Jungwon to ask Jungkook for things.

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “Papa likes those, too.”

Jungwon takes your word for it and tugs Jungkook’s hand this time and points to the stand, causing the older man’s face to light up.

You’re carrying the little one as he watches in awe at the way the puffy cloud is shaped into an adorable-looking pig. After a few minutes of admiring it, Jungkook takes a piece and feeds Jungwon, whose eyes close in delight at the taste. His arms are hanging from your neck as he leans closer to Jungkook who alternates feeding himself and his son.

“Not too much, bug,” you say softly.

He nods and tells you to taste it and you shake your head because sweets aren't really your thing, but you eventually give in to Jungwon's sad face.

“Papa, feed Mama, too!”

Jungkook notices your scandalized face, although it is just cotton candy, but he’s amused, and a little giddy, too. He knows this isn’t something worthy of rejecting your little boy over so he smiles at you before he feeds you with a small piece of the cloud-like treat.

You make a face and Jungwon laughs at you and you gush at how this whole thing is making him happy. He deserves all this and more.

That night, you and Jungkook tuck him in bed as the little one’s eyes’ droop at the sound of his father’s soft humming of a lullaby, a contented smile gracing his face.

Jungkook kisses the little one’s forehead and caresses his cheek. “I love you so much, buddy,” he says, and just like Jungwon earlier today, there’s a glow, a new kind of joy on Jungkook’s face. It fits him well, and he looks even more beautiful like this.

He lingers next to Jungwon and the way he looks just makes you happy, hopeful. You’re collecting moments. You think for now, this is all you can do.

It’s been a bad day.

No, scratch that. It’s been a terrible day.

You’d just spent the whole morning arguing with building owners and your head is about to explode. What’s worse is you couldn’t even show exactly how angry you were because Jungwon is with you, and he can’t see his Mama fight people. You also can’t express just how frustrated you are because again, Jungwon is with you and he can’t hear his Mama curse and scream at the world.

Perhaps things have been too good lately. The past couple of weeks have been filled with more outdoor dates, movies and activities at your apartment, baseball games, bonding with the rest of the guys with Jungwon taking a liking to them, especially Hoseok who risks breaking his bones just to hear the little one laugh, and video calls when Jungkook has away games.

You’re less stressed at work because you can actually focus, since there’s a Jungkook to pick Jungwon up from daycare or look after him when you need to pull an all-nighter.

Perhaps this is the universe’s way of balancing things out because this isn’t the situation you were really hoping for.

Jin opens the door to his loft, the venue of today’s gathering because you’re doing taste tests for his new restaurant. It’s something you’re happy about because at least, you have your friends’ voices of reason for times like this.

Jungkook notices your agitated face and approaches you. You immediately give Jungwon to him, who smoothly moves from your arms to his father’s, and you stay by the window to try to get yourself together.

Your friends know to leave you be when you’re in distress and Jungkook keeps an eye on you. It’s when you grip your necklace - the moon and stars one that he gave you when you were together - and take deep breaths that he leaves Jungwon with his uncles, and walks over to you. Those had always been your tell.

Calming you down used to be his expertise. He’s not sure about now but you’ve been on such good terms that he thinks it’s worth a try.

“Hey, what’s going on?” He asks, voice laced with worry.

“I…” You start, checking on Jungwon first before you say anything.

“He’s okay, Hoseok and Jimin are playing with him,” Jungkook says.

You move towards where the rest of the guys are and release a long breath.

“So, apparently the apartment we’re supposed to move into in two weeks has mold and the idiot of a building owner insists that it’s okay like that shit’s fine and like I don’t have a kid.” You huff.

“And he won’t give us the corner unit because it’s reserved for when he needs a place for his mistress and he offered the one in the 7th floor! I have a child! And there’s no elevator there!” You exclaim

“And your current apartment?” Yoongi finally asks after a while, everyone else just watching you unload.

“My lease ends this month and that other idiot of a building owner won’t let me extend it until I find a new place because he says someone’s moving in. I’m friends with his daughter. She said no one’s moving in. He’s just lying because he hates me,” you pant.

“Why does he hate you?” Jungkook asks, tone bitter.

“He’s a grumpy man who, in the very rare times that Jungwon threw tantrums, decided he dislikes little kids.”

“His own probably hates him, since his daughter is ratting him out,” Yoongi says.

“Well, I may have also paid my rent late but like, just thrice in the past year and he just doesn’t have any form of compassion for this hardworking mother who has the sweetest child in the world,” you pout, and Jungkook giggles to himself because you’d never been this dramatic, although the situation does call for a bit of that.

“I’m sure you’ll find another place,” Yoongi offers, like it’s that simple.

“That apartment was in the best location. I was lucky to have even found one there that I could afford, so it’ll take time,” you explain, shoulders sagging now, as if in defeat. “It’s close to the kindergarten that Jungwon is enrolled in for next month and the primary school we plan to enroll him in next year.”

We. Jungkook smiles at this. You’ve been saying that a lot lately.

“And it’s in a nice district, too, and it’s safe and it has parks nearby. Ugh, stupid assholes had to ruin it for us. And it’s Jungwon’s birthday soon and I was really hoping to be settled by then,” you continue, eyebrows scrunched in frustration.

It’s silent for a while with everyone just staring at you, as if the answer is literally in front of you.

“So in short, you’ll be homeless in 2 weeks and you need a place to stay,” Yoongi clarifies.

“Yes… well that’s oversimplified but—“

“You do know that you have a whole ass baby daddy here who’s very capable and hoping to—“ Jin grunts, interrupted by a painful elbow to his gut, with Jungkook glaring at him.

He faces you and smiles, a complete 180 from how he was just with Jin.

“What he actually means is that my apartment is near Jungwon’s school. I have spare bedrooms you can use. It has amenities and parks nearby, and it’s safe,” he says calmly.

Jungkook’s actually nervous about how you’ll take the suggestion. When Jin mentioned having you and Jungwon move in, Jungkook hasn’t stopped thinking about it ever since. He’s glad for the opening, as he wouldn’t know how to bring it up without scaring you away.

“You’re asking me, I mean us, to move in with you? I mean, for now?” You ask nervously.

“Sure, why not? I mean, if it’s okay with you. It’s practical, you won’t have to worry about anything, and… it’d be nice to come home to, you know…” He clears his throat. “It’d be nice to get to see Jungwon everyday.”

You don’t miss your friends’ looks of agreement; even Namjoon has a soft smile on.

You still, suddenly nervous at the thought of living with Jungkook, even if you convince yourself that should you agree, it’s just temporary because you still intend to find a place on your own. Your co-parenting discussions with him were always based on the premise of living separately so you don’t think you should stray from that initial plan.

The guys notice your nervousness and decide to move to the other side of the room to give you and Jungkook some privacy.

You take this time to think about it. While you fear for your heart that would probably flutter and sigh at the thought of seeing your ex-boyfriend everyday, you also know you don’t have that many options.

“I’m not agreeing right now but are you sure you’re okay with that?” You ask Jungkook as he stands in front of you, your eyes anxious to meet his.

You know it’s a silly question but you need to hear it again, you need to know that it’s something he wants, too. It seems like a practical step but it’s still a big one. More than that, though, you know it would be good for father and son to spend everyday together, and you don’t want to get in between that.

Jungkook senses this and this version of you is someone he knows how to deal with.

“Yes, I am sure. I would very much like for you and Jungwon to stay with me. I think it’ll be easier for all of us. While you, uh, look for—“

“Another place to stay, yes,” you finish. You look at him nervously.

There’s more you want to say, like things are getting hard and you need more than just to help with Jungwon, you need him. You want to say, too, that the past weeks have been great but it’s also been difficult trying to control your feelings for him, ones you’re sure that never really went away. You want to tell him that you miss his hugs, his kisses, his warmth; you miss his love.

“Yeah, of course,” he responds, looking away briefly.

He hears your bated breaths, though, feels your anxiety from where he stands, and he wants nothing more than to ease your worries.

He turns his gaze on you and engulfs your hands in his, his warm touch sending shivers through you. It’s so familiar and something you’ve been yearning for. You return his look and will your heart to still.

“You’re not alone in worrying about this, okay?” He says, grounding you. “There are options and we’ll figure this out together, and I don’t wanna pressure you but this is kind of a time-sensitive thing,” he smiles.

“So I’ll be forward and tell you now that I prefer that you and Jungwon stay with me. For how long, I don’t care, we’ll figure that out, too. I just…” He continues. “I'd rather have you there with me. I want you both there with me. It’s much safer and practical.”

There’s no point in delaying it. Whatever the consequences of this arrangement would be, you and Jungkook will figure that out, too. At least you’ll do it together. So you nod your agreement.

He smiles and pulls you in for a hug, something you both now do when you say your goodbyes, due in part to the not-so-subtle prodding of your son. You know it’s also because Jungkook can tell that you’re stressed over this and just like before, he’s trying to tell you that it’s going to be okay, that you’re not alone in this anymore.

You bask in Jungkook’s warmth, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist, not minding the snickers and knowing looks of your friends.

It’s not long before you hear tiny footsteps approaching you and a tug on your shirt. You and Jungkook pull away from the hug and find a wide-eyed Jungwon looking up at you, a soft smile gracing his face.

“I want a hug, too!” He states, arms raised.

Jungkook laughs and carries the little one in his left arm, with his right one pulling you closer, then settling it lightly on your waist.

“You jealous, buddy?” Jungkook chuckles, earning a playful glare from you.

“I like it when Mama and Papa hug me,” Jungwon explains.

“I know, sweetcheeks,” you say, taking a deep breath, knowing there’s no taking this back after. You take the risk, as you look at how Jungkook is looking tenderly at you and it’s giving you hope.

“Will you like it if Mama and Papa hug you everyday?” You ask. “Would you like it, too, if you see Papa everyday?”

The little one nods vigorously, and you and Jungkook laugh at this.

“Okay, then you will.” You kiss his cheek and look at Jungkook, as if in agreement. “Let’s see Papa everyday, okay bug?”

Jungwon squeals and proceeds to kiss you and Jungkook on the cheeks, another moment that you know you’ll be getting a lot more of moving forward.

“We’re doing this, huh?” Jungkook asks, as he puts the little one down who’s insisting that his uncles are waiting for him.

“We are. Together, right?” You respond.

“Together.”

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oliviajdjarin · 3 years

Text

Chapter 1: a tug

Warnings: PTSD, sadness, depression, panic attack, mentions of violence

Author’s note: this is part one of my series called “Burning Red.” This is kind of boring because it is a set up for the main storyline, but I hope you enjoy it! Any constructive criticism and support is greatly appreciated. And if I missed a warning, please let me know!!

After everything you’ve seen, everything you’ve done, everyone you’ve hurt, it felt good to just lay low.

A mechanic on tatooine was not what you imagined, but it did the trick.

No one saw you for who you truly were, and that made you happy.

Well, except for Peli.

You came to her sick and angry and alone, and she nursed you back to health. You would be rotting in the desert if it wasn’t for her, and you felt you owed her a little something.

So, you used your “uncommon” set of abilities to help her with her mechanics in any way she needed.

This included: cooking, cleaning, repairing, negotiating, and most importantly, defending.

Peli was no dummy. She knew you had more experience in that field than she did. So she recruited you, and paid you back with whatever she had laying around. A new outfit once and a while, a warm bed, a hot dinner, and a couple of credits so you could go shopping and get out of her hair.

You couldn’t blame her. You were a hell of a lot of trouble to be around.

Constant nightmares, paranoia, and regret surrounded your aura like a fog. Any normal person wouldn’t notice, but someone like Peli could. And it pissed her off a good majority of the time.

“Stop moping and help me clean this oil off my droid,” and sentences like this one, were said pretty frequently around your place.

Was it even your place? All you did was survive. Is that enough to say you lived there instead of just survived there?

You really liked Peli. She gave you a base. A “home” of sorts, and for that you were forever indebted.

But something in you always called you back to your real home, and that scared you more than Peli’s tough love. More than you could even describe.

~~*~~

It was a pretty normal day on Tatooine. The wind howled, the sand covered everything in its wake, and the heat. You would never get used to it.

You were eating your breakfast when a ship landed on the landing pad, and you could already tell it was a doosey just by the way the left engine was sputtering.

If this ship explodes, we better get a damn good pay, you think to yourself.

The ramp starts to open and you take that as your queue to start the walk to your makeshift room. It was really a storage room, but you didn’t mind.

When you get there, you squat down to the ground behind your door and grab your apron and set of tools. You knew Peli would need some help with this ship.

You hear the ship’s ramp hit he ground and you feel it.

A tug.

Not even a tug, a lurch. It felt like a rope had been tied to your soul and pulled you back into your old self.

This was a tug you hadn’t felt in so long. So long, it almost knocks you off your feet.

I closed myself off from this, you think. I shouldn’t feel this. I don’t want to feel this.

You already feel a headache coming on from the shock and ache in your bones, so you start walking back to the landing pad to tell Peli you aren’t feeling too well.

If I get recognized, we are both dead.

You’d rather get a scolding from Peli than a scolding hot gun wound in your chest.

“Hey,” you hear Peli shout at the client, and you pick up your pace. Your heart is hammering in your chest and you feel the panic ooz through your body.

It’s been so long since you’ve felt this, but you hate how it makes you feel alive.

You finally make it to Peli and you see her speaking very loudly (she doesn’t like to use the word “yelling”) at what seems to be your client.

But this is no ordinary client. This is a Mandalorian.

A very broad Mandalorian who, no offense to Peli, could knock her out in his sleep.

You had heard legends of their kind. But worst of all, you had fought them. And damn were they good.

You hadn’t seen any since the purge. You had heard rumors of them hiding under ground, but they had always been peaceful people. You hated how they got dragged into a war.

“You damage one of my droids, you’ll pay for it,” Peli says, and you really wish she would use a more peaceful tone.

The last thing you want to do right now is fight a very impressive looking Mandalorian covered entirely in beskar while your entire body is tingling.

Is he the one who is force sensitive?

“Just keep them away from my ship” he says, and you are surprised at how well he is taking Peli’s annoyance.

“Yeah? You think that’s a good idea?” Peli responds in a tone dripping with sarcasm and you take this as your moment to try to sneak away.

This however, was unsuccessful.

“Come on y/n. Let’s take a look at his ship,” she says and the Mandalorian turns his helmet towards you.

You probably look like an absolute mess. Your chest is heaving, you are sweating, and you are not at all prepared to do any sort of repairs. You are basically in your pajamas. The Mandalorian’s gaze has you nervous enough, but this familiar feeling in your stomach has you dizzy and nauseous.

Just hold on......

You start to follow Peli to the ship while still looking at the Mandalorian. You learned very early on in your life to never take your eyes off a predator. He follows your form and you try your best to mask his incredibly strong force connection gripping your chest.

This man isn’t even trying to hide it? It’s almost as if he is reaching for me?

You make it to Peli where you finally take your eyes off of him. You can see why Peli was so mad now.

“Oof! Look at that,” she says as she scans the ship with her eyes. “You’ve got a lot of cabron scoring up top. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were in a shoot out.”

Oh my God, he was in a shoot out.

This is really not good. This man could have been followed and you could be surrounded at this very moment. You were a skilled fighter, but those kinds of odds were almost unbeatable. Especially when you were still trying to hide your identity.

You are so tense you feel like you could snap. You still feel his eyes on you, and you are praying to whatever is out there that you can just stay alive. That’s the only thing you’re good at.

“Name’s Peli Motto. That’s y/n,” she says as she points to you with her wrench.

She did not just tell him your NAME.

“This is my operation. You’re not gonna find a better mechanic on the planet,” she says as she leaned in closer to the engine.

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to rotate that. You’ve got a fuel leak. Look at this, this is a mess. How did you even land?”

All you wanted to do was scream.

He is a MANDALORIAN who was just in a SHOOT OUT. He is probably being FOLLOWED and we could be dead because of ME.

“That’s gonna set you back,” she says.

She is concerned about MONEY right now?

Peli is a smart woman, but she was walking you into a trap. You didn’t want her blood on your hands. You didn’t need any more of that.

All of this is happening while you are still on the verge of a panic attack.

This Mandalorian is strong with the force. It is squeezing your lungs and your feet and your hands and your brain. All rational thinking is out the window. You had to get out of here before he manages to suffocate you.

God you hate this feeling. A few years ago you lived with this constantly. It became a part of you. Something you enjoyed. But now...

“I’ve got five hundred imperial credits,” the Mandalorian says.

Imperial credits. Great. How did he get his hands on those?

“That’s all you got? Well..” she says and looks back at you.

“What do you think,” she asks in a teasing tone.

You try to plead to her with your eyes. You are sweating beyond belief and your brain is about to explode.

She tightens her brows in confusion at your state, but continues to bargain.

“That should at least cover the hanger,” she says and you feel your jaw almost drop to the floor.

How can she not see it?

“I’ll get you your money,” the Mandalorian mumbles and you try to take a deep breath. Passing out in front of one of the fiercest warriors in the galaxy who may be here to kill you would rip off the last bit of pride you had left. If you are going down, you are going down with a fight.

“I’ve heard that before,” Peli responds and looks at you in a joking way. Like she was trying to coax you into laughing with her.

You try to chuckle back, but it just comes out in a low breath.

You sound insane.

“Just remember—,” the Mandalorian starts

“No droids. I heard ya,” Peli finishes.

“Why do you think I keep this girl around,” she says chuckling with a pat on your back.

You muster up the strength to smile and feel holes burning in your head from the Mandalorian’s gaze.

He really knows how to stare.

The Mandalorian leaves the hanger, and it takes everything in you not to pass out right there.

You thought with him leaving it would die down, but it’s only getting worse.

“Are you ok,” Peli asks and helps you lower yourself to the ground.

You are breathing frantically now and your hands are clutched to your chest.

“He has it,” you say and you know Peli knows what you mean.

She looks at you with wide eyes and you see the realization on her face.

“Oh my god.... he was in a shootout,” she says.

“Uh huh,” you breathe out. The desperate force connection is starting to fade and you feel your lungs fill up with air once more.

“He could have been followed! Or he could be here to—“

“Kill us,” you say. Peli hates when you finish her sentences, but there was no point in caring right now.

“Ok. Get inside. If I need you I will call for you,” she says and you nod, slowly getting to your feet.

You start to walk back to your room, with Peli’s arms guiding you, while taking deep breaths, but you freeze when you sense something else coming out of the ship and you snap your head to the ramp.

“What,” Peli says as she follows your gaze.

Your heart flutters. The force is slowly starting to ease its nasty grip on you.

If you didn’t sense the creature, you would miss it.

A little green baby, wrapped in what looked like a potato sack, was strolling down the ramp, looking directly at you.

“It’s him,” you say.

“He has it.”

#din djarin #mando #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #star wars #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction

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redorich · 3 years

Note

May I request the aftermath of Cleo learning about the magic restrictions please and thank you.

The unfortunate thing about the Dream SMP is that there is no such thing as neutral ground. Everyone's in a faction, and everyone's got beef with everyone else. The only "neutral ground" is the unsettled wilds. When Philza reports this back to Cleo, who reports it back to Xisuma, Cleo wears a put-upon look and says that her and Joe's castle will do just fine, thank you, so stop worrying about it.

The day of the meeting comes, and though Philza is hesitant to return to the castle that scared Techno half to death and activated Ranboo's main character energy, he didn't spend all that time with Cleo handing out the invitations for nothing. Cleo herself won't be present, but her partner in crime Joe will be.

Inside the castle, past the courtyard teeming with armor stand faux-life, there is a meeting room with a table. There are exits on each of the four walls, so no one feels trapped, and the table is circular so that no one feels less important than anyone else. It's all a very Socratic setup.

At the far end of the room, where the head of the table would be were it rectangular, Xisuma sits calm as can be despite the powder keg of important people with grudges he's invited into his presence. On his right is Joe, whose eyes are lit up bright white, though he's still wearing his glasses. To Xisuma's left is Grian, and to Grian's left is Doc. Continuing around the table, next sits Eret representing the Pride Palace and, to a lesser extent, the Dream SMP as a whole. After them, the next person is Philza representing the Syndicate, then Bad representing the Eggpire.

Given the antagonistic nature of the Eggpire, Bad's neighbors have been chosen very carefully; on his other side sits Ghostbur representing L'Manberg. (Philza had awkwardly told Cleo that inviting a L'Manberg representative wasn't necessary, since the place was gone, but she insisted that it was "the principle of the matter". Ghostbur seems happy enough to be invited, anyway.)

On Ghostbur's left, Sam attends on Dream's behalf. Obviously, no one is going to invite Dream, and as Dream's would-be warden, Sam was nominated to attend in his stead. Next to Sam there's an empty chair for George; Philza and Puffy both warned the Hermits that George was allergic to "lore", whatever that meant, but his place at the table was set nevertheless.

The last person to fill in the table is Tubbo, representing Snowchester. He quietly expresses to Sam that he's wary about how few Hermits there are in proportion to the number of Dream SMP citizens. Sam shrugs, and murmurs back to Tubbo that there's probably more Hermits hiding somewhere nearby. After all, isn't that what the Hermits do?

Xisuma claps his hands together once in a polite bid for everyone's attention. They settle down slowly, and once they do, he stands.

"Right, everyone-- thank you all for coming. Let's get right into it, shall we?" He smiles, though it's hard to see beneath the helmet. "With some help from Puffy and Philza, my friends and I were able to figure out why we were trapped in your server."

Sam crosses his arms. He doesn't give much of a shit about the Hermits, he tells himself, unless they have something to do with Dream-- Sam's greatest failure. (It's a lie. He looks at Doc, the only other creeper-person he's ever met-- the first creeper-person, who fought a god and won the right to live for all mob hybrids who came after him. Doc, whose eyes are fixed solely on Xisuma.)

Clearing his throat to cover up the moment of weakness, Sam speaks up. "That's great and all, but why do we care? No one was living in L'Manberg anyway; it was practically free real estate."

The callous words net Sam a glare from Tubbo and a hurt look from Ghostbur. Before either can protest, Xisuma cuts in smoothly.

"It's an issue with your server," he says, "one that Dream should have fixed. It's the reason for this meeting, actually; if there was a responsible admin in the server, I would have just told them. First, a history lesson-- Doc, if you please?"

Doc nods somberly, savoring the opportunity to ham it up a bit. "For those of you who don't know, there are three Eras. The first is the beginning of time, when Mojang created the world as we know it. Players had infinite respawns, the world was less advanced, and redstone had just been created."

"Don't you think you're going a little too far back in history?" Bad asks skeptically.

"He's getting there," Eret defends.

Doc picks up where he left off. "In the Mojang pantheon, there was a god named Notch who wanted to expand the world's horizons, to give them new biomes and mechanics and blocks they'd never seen before... but you can't make something out of nothing. He needed magic to make his big updates a reality, and he stole it from the players behind the other gods' backs."

Ghostbur gasps, horrified. "He stole magic?"

"And so the gods killed him and gave the magic back, end of story," Sam snaps, then instantly regrets it. He's too on edge.

Thankfully, Doc either doesn't mind it or doesn't notice. "Not quite," he says. "When Notch took the magic from players, they lost the ability to respawn at all, marking the beginning of Era Two-- the Hardcore Era. When the gods found out, they were angry at Notch, so they exiled him to the Void. They tried to give players back their magic, but Notch had already taken too much, and servers and updates kept needing more and more... That's how Era Three started. It's the one you live in now, with the three life system."

"So... why does this matter?" Tubbo asks. "I mean, what does this have to do with why you're stuck in our server?"

"There's a parasite on your server, eating up all the magic," Xisuma says carefully. "Your server needed extra magic to keep up, so when we went through the infinity portal it grabbed us. As a group comprised mostly of Era One players, we have the magic that the server needs to compensate for the parasite."

Most of the Dream SMP citizens look either nauseous or extremely worried at the thought of a parasite. With a furrowed brow and a chewed lip, Eret breaks the silence.

"Do you know who it is?"

They all look around the table with wary gimlet eyes, attempting to suss out the imposter among them.

"A parasite..." Sam snorts derisively. "Sounds like that damn egg."

"Language," Bad snaps, but doesn't resort to violence.

"No no, he's got a point," Grian speaks for the first time. He'd been told to stay silent, but he's not a man who will ever pass up an opportunity to meme.

Bad's face falls, and he takes on a placating tone in an attempt to persuade the Hermits to his side. "Hey, don't be like that, the Egg's never done anything wrong!"

Sam's eyebrows raise practically to the ceiling. He looks at Bad in disbelief. "Never done anything wrong?" he says. "Remember when you--"

"That was me, not the Egg," Bad cuts in with a nervous laugh.

"You tried to kill Puffy over it, then killed Foolish instead," Philza says solely because he wants the Hermits to be mad about the Egg.

"Hm," Joe hums to himself. Up until this point the man everyone knows as Herobrine has been quiet, fading into the background, but now that he's made his presence known they can't help but be wary.

He drums his fingers on the table. "Yeah, I think we need some backup. False, Iskall?"

"On it," Doc grumbles, and reaches under the table to flip a couple trapdoors.

Out of nowhere, as though they'd ender pearled in, a blonde woman and a cyborg man appear behind the Hermits' end of the table. Bad stands up suddenly, knocking his chair backward, but Doc presses another button and all four entrances to the room are shut by pistons.

The woman, False, vaults herself over the table with nothing but upper body strength and tackles Bad to the floor. While the demon is still stunned, Iskall dashes around the circumference of the table to flank him. Doc once again presses a button and the floor opens up to reveal a secret staircase, which False and Iskall drag Bad down kicking and screaming. Once they disappear into the depths of the basement, the floor closes back up and the doors reopen like nothing ever happened.

"Well," Xisuma says with a small smile, lacing his fingers together as he addresses the group.

They stare back at him in horror.

He clears his throat awkwardly. "So, with the removal of the Egg, your server will stabilize and we Hermits will be able to leave you in peace..."

"I'm sensing a but," Eret says tentatively. They take off their sunglasses with a minute sigh, reminding themself that it's because of these Hermits that their curse was removed, that they can take off their sunglasses and have gray eyes again.

Taking a deep breath, Xisuma speaks. "We think we have a way to fix the three-life system."

#mcyt #hc x dsmp #hermit canyon au #zombiecleo #philza #xisuma #joe hills #grian #docm77 #eret #badboyhalo #ghostbur #awesamdude #tubbo #falsesymmetry #iskall85 #me.cpp #me.txt

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biggest-stupidhead · 3 years

Note

Hello! I'm gonna drop here another request 🤣 This could be a headcanon or a scenario, whatever you feel comfortable with!

Let's just say the clumsy new cadet!reader landed a punch a little too strong and broke Captain Levi's nose by accident?

Thanks!

omfg I love this so much

Summary: Levi underestimates your strength

Word Count: 1.7K

It was late in the afternoon and you were pooped. The day had been long and taxing, beginning with stable duties, then cleaning, followed promptly by ODM practice and upkeep. The captain had kept you all on your toes throughout the day, seamlessly ordering you into your next task. So as you doubled over in an attempt to recover your regular breathing pattern you silently prayed for the day to come to a close miraculously two hours early.

“This sucks.” Jean huffed across from you, mirroring your stance as he turned and spat a glob of saliva out onto the dusty ground.

“I second that.” Connie agreed breathlessly from behind you, Sasha’s wheezing breath was distracting you from your own breathing and you found yourself hacking as you tried to refocus. Mikasa on the other hand was totally fine, her eyes lazily scanning the training grounds as she waited for her next orders. Armin and Eren were on their knees as they tried to recover from the sprints that you hall had just finished.

“Pack it up brats, meet me at the courtyard in no more than three minutes.” Levi ordered, the whirring of his gear signaling his retreat. You huffed, jealous of his ability to use the gear, you and the rest of your squad had left your gear back at the supply barn, having thought that the day’s training was nearly finished. The only task that he could possibly throw at you now was sparring, something that you rarely did as scouts, and when you did do it, the exercise was often held first thing in the morning. So when you all arrived at the courtyard to find Levi with his arms crossed and wooden knives at his feet, you felt your heart sink. How could he be so cruel? Mikasa clicked her tongue next to you, clearly thinking the same thing as you. Eren groaned a bit too loudly, Connie whimpered and Sasha sighed heavily. Jean remained silent, but the gloomy aura surrounding him was enough to hint that he felt the dismay that you all felt as well.

“What are you waiting for? Pair off already.” Levi snapped impatiently and all of you jumped to find partners. This was always an issue within your squad, especially when it came to sparring. There was an odd number, meaning that one of you had to partner up with the captain. You lunged to grab Armin but Jean beat you to him, snatching him and dragging him well out of your reach, Eren and Mikasa were already picking up a knife, Connie gave you a look that was laced with pity as Sasha linked her arm with his. You huffed and stuck your tongue out at him before making the walk of shame over to Levi.

“I’ll be the attacker.” He said as he stooped to grab a knife, you swallowed nervously but braced yourself for what you were sure would be the worst ass whopping in your life. Levi held the wooden knife with a frown, he studied it momentarily before with a flick of his wrist her had the fake weapon spinning in the air. He caught it effortlessly and nodded in approval. Now he was just showing off, you thought bitterly as you focused on him entirely. In the blink of an eye he rushed you, the knife held against his side, no doubt a habit from his earlier years. You panicked and narrowly sidestepped his attack, the blunt knife cutting through the air where you once stood. Levi stepped back before you could even think about landing a blow. You held your fists up, determination replacing the shock you had felt. You were going to see this fight through to the bitter end. He caught the flash of conviction in your features and decided that he would extinguish it promptly.

He lunged once more at you, this time opting to make a stabbing motion right to your abdomen, a move he wouldn’t dream of making if he had a real knife in his hand, he preferred slashing over stabbing, stabbing took too much effort, while slashing allowed for less energy and more space between himself and his opponent. He regretted this almost instantly, having severely underestimated both your speed and your strength behind your punches. You sidestepped the stab and clocked him right in the nose, your fist connecting with his face with a sickening crunch. In his moment of pure shock, you snatched the wooden knife from his grasp and tossed it to the side. You used your weight to push Levi back onto his butt, and then flat on his back. He could only blink up at the blue sky as his nose throbbed in pain. It was then when you got a clear look at the damage that you had inflicted that you gasped, blood was leaking from his nose, both from his nostrils and a small cut that you’d managed to create from the sheer force of your fist.

“Captain! I am so so sorry.” You whispered as you reached into his breast pocket, where you knew that he kept a fresh handkerchief. You pressed it to his nose and his grey eyes left the sky to stare at you, brows raised and mouth open in shock. You were knelt next to him, one hand on his shoulder, the other pinching his nose for him. Levi felt the shock wear off once he realized how stupid he must look. He sat upright at the speed of light, and you yelped. He sighed and watched as the soiled fabric fell onto the dusty ground, the crimson that stained the crisp white only solidified that he had been bested by a cadet.

“Good work cadet, that was...unexpected.” He admitted as he turned to face you. You swallowed thickly and shook your head rapidly.

“Lucky shot I guess?” You said nervously as you studied the damage once more, this time you noticed the way that his nose was slightly crooked.

“You should...probably get that checked out.” You said, pointing at his nose, worried that it would be you who marred the captains perfect features.

“Just a broken nose, not the first time it’s happened and I’m willing to be it won’t be the last either.” Levi sighed as he stood and offered you a hand to help you to your own feet. You accepted and he turned to the other cadets, who were all staring at you with slack jaws.

“That’s enough for today, go get washed up for dinner.” Levi said, pinching his nose once he finished speaking. Your peers saluted him and made a clean getaway, kicking up the dust as they scurried away. You felt much to guilty to let Levi walk to the infirmary by himself, and for whatever reason he had no qualms in letting you accompany him. But you noticed that he was in fact not heading towards the infirmary, but instead Hange’s lab.

“Sir....where are we-”

“I can’t stand the pompous doctor.” He said, as if that was enough of an explanation.

“So who-”

“Hange can set bones back just as good as the next idiot.” He said simply as he gave one curt knock before entering. Hange looked up from behind the pile of books and let out a bark of laughter.

“Sparring with Mike again? What good has that ever done you?” She asked as she rounded the table and reached onto one of the top shelves to produce a first aid kit.

“Wasn’t sparring with that oaf.” Levi grunted as he dropped into one of the chairs in Hange’s lab. She hummed thoughtfully, and looked up from her work to catch your eyes.

“Can you confirm this cadet?” She asked, a playful glint in her eyes as you averted your eyes and flushed.

“Actually...”

“She’s the one that broke my nose.” Levi said, beating you to it and stating it much more bluntly than you would have. Hange let out a roar of laughter and slapped her knee in her enthusiasm.

“That’s just rich! Wow great work (Y/n)! I mean I would’ve expected this from Ackerman, or maybe even Eren. But you? My god this is just-”

“Set my nose already shitty glasses.” Levi snapped, having had enough of her teasing, his already thin patience was worn to near exhaustion. Hange sighed and motioned for you to come closer.

“Let’s use this as a teaching opportunity shall we?” She mused as you came to stand at her shoulder. You weren’t sure if you had much of a choice so you simply nodded and she smirked devilishly at you. She brought her hands to the side of Levi’s head, he closed his eyes and let out a slow breath as Hange moved a hand over the bridge of his nose.

“When setting any bone it is important to do so quickly and unapologetically.” She said formally as she tenderly examined the wound. She reached behind her with her free hand and dabbed a cotton ball to the bloody skin, you swallowed nervously as she now returned to grip the bridge of his nose.

“On the count of three Levi.” She hummed as she seemed to brace herself. Levi didn’t even open his eyes at her warning.

“One...”

CRACK

You yelped at the loud sound, Hange was quick to reach for some more cotton which she stuffed up Levi’s nostrils. Levi groaned when she finished and reclined further in the chair, his knuckles white from squeezing the arms of the seat.

“Oh my god.” Was all you could manage as Hange wiped her hands off on a towel.

“Go ahead and take him to dinner. He’ll be fine in the next couple of weeks.” She waved you off, shooing the both of you out of her office. When the door slammed shut behind the two of you, you turned to Levi with a twisted expression.

“Captain I am so sorry, I really didn’t mean to. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” You practically begged as Levi closed his eyes and ran a hand through his messy locks.

“Well....you can do my paperwork for me.” He said, you immediately regretted extending your kindness, much to Levi’s amusement.

“I’ll go make us some tea then...” You mumbled turning to stalk off towards the kitchen. Levi watched you walk away, pride swelling in his chest, he didn’t think that you had it in you. Now all he had to do was get you to stop apologizing all the god damn time.

Oh my god, this was such a fun lil idea.

#levi x reader #levi aot #snk levi #levi x you #levi x y/n #reader instert #aot fanfiction #aot fandom #levi squad #shingeki no kyoujin levi #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman #fluff?#levi/reader #levi is soft for u

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herherteartear · 3 years

Text

blanket kick

précis— Peter's not the suave man he would hope to be in front of his crush. instead, he's a blushing mess that haunts his memories and causes him to take out his frustrations on his blanket. luckily, you prefer cherry cheeks over smooth lines any day.

pairing— Peter Parker x enhanced!maximoff!reader

a/n— this is my first standalone written story and my first time writing for marvel! i hope you guys enjoy thisss<3 i'm also open to creating drabbles to continue this if anyone's interested????! pls enjoy and pls comment and let me know ur thoughts!!!

there are many ways to describe Peter Parker, but none could ever wholly capture the true essence of the boy

besides the obvious stuff,, his intelligence , his insanely good looks , his teenage awkwardness,,

it was a hard feat to string along words to describe the way he carries himself , the way he is with others , the way his heart loves with the same ability a sponge soaks up water and soap

Peter's had crushes before

perhaps more than he'd like to admit

(can't blame the boy, who gave Ty Lee the right be that cute!?)

but when he sees her, his heart begins to swell and suddenly, he forgets how to breathe..

or how to think... talk. y'know normal human stuff

in all honesty, Peter has tried his absolute hardest to block out their first meeting from his memories

he doesn't regret meeting her, of course not! never would he even repent that embarrassingly wonderful day

he only wishes it would've gone a little differently

let's set the scene, shall we?

the sun was shining brightly, the sky was a Carolina blue, the clouds were the prettiest porcelain color, rimmed with lace

Peter was riding in an awfully silent car that Happy was driving to the airport. despite being terrified of what's to come,, the fight Mr. Stark had recruited him for,, the boy was thoroughly enjoying this adventure.

the car came to a stop, which did little for Peter's nerves. he gathered his courage before stepping out, eyes squinting at the brightness of the yellow sun. once his eyes adjusted, they landed on the prettiest head of hair he had ever seen

(although he did think the same for Hermione Granger)

Peter had never been on a plane before that day. but even then, his sparkling eyes stayed trained on her,, completely ignoring the brilliant private jet behind her

"oh? Happy, i thought it was just us?" her voice made Peter's ears burn. he swallowed thickly. you blinked at Peter, curious but also intrigued , you smiled.

to which Peter choked. on air. your eyebrows furrowed in worry.

"a-are you okay?"

"god, kid, get ahold of yourself."

"i-i'm okay! it's– i'm– i'm fine!" Peter quickly stuttered out.

"well, Yn, this is– uh,, what's your name again?" Happy turned towards the boy who's cheeks were now redder than a firetruck.

"oh! i'm Peter– Peter Parker. it's nice to meet you- not that i don't know you. well i don't, y'know not personally. but like from the news.. not that i believe the news! they're awful to you, but i mean i guess i do sometimes– but never about what they say about you–"

"i'm Yn Maximoff. it's nice to meet you too, Peter." you cut him off before Happy strangled the cute boy. you had an amused smile

he was cute

finally getting on the plane, Peter had hoped he would be able to sit far away from you and wallow in his embarrassment,

maybe sneak a glance or two.. imagine a couple of scenarios where he wasn't a doofus,

but that's not quite what happened.

after witnessing just how much the new kids was able to ramble,, Happy was not about to spend a whole ass plane ride remotely close to him

so he took it upon himself to make the kiddies sit together.. much to Peter's dismay.

like!!? did Happy not see how Peter crashed and burned in font of you?!

you, on the other hand,, had the opposite reaction.

being the youngest avenger, you don't get to be around people your age too much,, which isn't something you're complaining about!!

you totally made the decision to be an avenger and you happily welcomed the consequences..

that didn't mean you didn't get lonely at times. especially now with the accords and the team breaking up., things got a whole lot more lonely

your sister, Wanda, had made her choice to leave the compound. you completely understood why, but a part of you had hoped she would've taken you with her

although, staying at the compound did ensure your safety.

it was a weird time for the avenger's , it felt wrong for you to say some of your teammates were criminals

it left a sour taste in your mouth

you glanced from the window seat to see Peter nervously wringing his fingers. you frowned.

"are you okay?" you asked, gently. Peter's eyes widened and his heart jumped to his throat. he wanted to say something, something cool or aloof, something that would make up for his ranting earlier

"i've never been on a plane before." Peter squeaked out. he dropped his shoulders, rolling his eyes at himself. that was the highest pitch he had ever heard his voice. you took in his clearly anxious posture.

"lets switch seats? maybe looking out the window will help you." you stated. before Peter could quickly shake his head, because how rude would it be of him to take your seat?, you were already stood up.

"oh god!" Peter breathed. he quickly shifted over to the seat you once occupied. he wanted to put up more of a fight, but the way you were swaying due to the turbulence, made his palms sweat in fear for your safety.

"you, like, swing from buildings and stuff, right?" you asked. he turned to you with a nod. "are you afraid of heights? or do you just not like planes?"

oh god. oh. no. you thought– you thought he was scared of being on the plane. Peter wanted to shrink in a hole and hide. you probably thought he was such a baby! that he could handle swinging from hundreds of feet in the air, but a plane is where he drew the line?

but what else is he supposed to say? 'oh, no! it's not the plane I'm scared of. it's just your beautiful smile and the way you smell like cocoa that gets me sweating'

wtf.

that was so wrong in so many ways.

"um, no, no. i'm okay, just– just a little nervous, is all." Peter tried to force out a chuckle. but it come out more like a cough. you mouth formed an 'o.'

"ohh, okay." you paused before your eyes lit up. "how about we play a game? to distract you?"

"o– okay.."

"can you talk with spiders?" Peter lifted his eyes from looking at his hands hovering above yours,; he let out a much more relaxed laugh than earlier.

you took advantage of his distraction to swiftly bring your palm from underneath his and slap the top of Peter's hand. he jumped.

"ouch!" he playfully pouted. you eyes glanced down at his lips. you giggled nervously. your hand went to hover over his, him now being the one to do the slapping. "of course i can't talk to spiders! i– i feel like i should probably be able to shape-shift into a spider in order for that to happen, y'know?"

you nodded thoughtfully. "that's true.. you didn't hear this from me, but i heard there's an Ant-Man going around." Peter looked at you with wide eyes.

"no way! that's crazy! does he like turn into an ant?" you bumped his hand with yours in order to get his attention back to the game. his hand burned at the feeling

"i don't know-" you said in a singsong tone. "it's just what's being said around the compound." you quickly slid your hands to avoid Peter's attack. he huffed.

"how are you so good at this?" he knitted his eyebrows to focus on how to attack quickly without hurting you.

"it's a game i used to play with my brother and sister." you answered. Peter finally took his chance to slap your hands, to which you squealed excitedly as you had tried to move in time. Peter and you fell into a fit of giggles.

you both leaned against your seats, still facing each other. your hands fell on top of Peter's.

the brown haired boy quickly slid his hand out from under yours, not because he didn't enjoy the contact, but because he was worried you'd feel how clammy his hands were

you frowned slightly at the loss of contact.

"a– are we really fighting your sister?" Peter wondered out loud, without a second thought.

you shifted uncomfortably. Peter quickly noticed; his heart sped up and he mentally scolded himself for being so inconsiderate.

"not because i think she's evil! i mean,, i know that's what the news says.. but they also think Spider-Man's like thirty. and i'm not thirty! its just everything's crazy right now.. with the accords., i can't even imagine how you're feeling! probably terrible.. oh, g od wait, not terrible, i'm s–"

you had been watching with an endearing look in your eye. you had come to find that you enjoy watching Peter ramble.

his eyes would become unsettled and shaky, his body would begin to become more and more animated, but his voice

gosh, his voice was something you wanted to listen to for the rest of your life

but you could tell he was getting more and more skittish. so you put him out of his misery

"terrible probably wouldn't be my go-to word, it's up there though.. at least i got to meet you." you smiled softly.

Peter's eyes ran over your soft features. night had fallen, so the windows of the plan displayed an almost picturesque display of the moon and stars. the light hue of color the moon provided painted your face in a way that clouded Peter's thoughts.

with your comment of being grateful to have met him, Peter wasn't in control of his mouth for much longer.

"so pretty." he breathed. both of you guys froze.

Peter's face quickly morphed from love-sick to mortified. you blushed violently.

deciding you didn't want Peter to fall into another rant-like apology (because if you got to listen to him talk for that long in this setting, you might just drop the 'L' word) , you said,

"let's watch a movie?"

the two of you sat, shoulder to shoulder, watching Scott Pilgrim Vs. the World, but being too hyper aware of their thighs pressed together and brushing hands to actually pay attention

upon arrival, both teenagers walked off the plane, sleep deprived , but with thumping hearts and dazed grins.

Peter threw himself on his hotel bed that night,, hiding under the covers

his thoughts replayed your interaction over and over (and over and over) in his head

the boy shoved his head, face first, into the stiff hotel pillow and let out a muffled groan

Peter flipped himself over, stared at the ceiling, before remembering his spouts of unnecessarily long explanations

he thrashed his body, kicking his poor blanket in frustration but most of all, out of embarrassment

he calmed himself down once his memories refreshed themselves over your gentle giggles and how soft your hands were

Peter fell asleep with cherry red cheeks and a blissful grin.

because despite those small mess ups, despite the futile way he beat his covers in humiliation, Peter treasures that day like no other.

#peter parker #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker x yn #peter parker fluff #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #tom holland #peter parker headcanon

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aspiringauthorintraining · 3 years

Text

Sands of Eon (1/2)

(A/N): Buckle your seatbelts, cause this is a long one! Read with sad music to really get in the mood. Cause I wrote this with sad music playing in the background lol.

“Do you have a wish, Xiao? I’ll write it on your lantern.”

“No need. I don’t have a lantern nor do I have the desire to make one.” He quickly shut down your offer, no sound of amusement or humor found in his tone. But unfortunately for him, you were used to his constant rejection and came prepared this time.

Grabbing another lantern from under the table, you pushed it towards him with a smile.

“Well, lucky for you, I already made you one.” you laughed, seeing his surprised reaction at the lantern in his hands. “No need to thank me.” you added.

“I don’t-”

You interrupted him before he could say no. “I already made it, and I don’t need two wishes. And like I said, I’ll even write it for you if you want.” Seeing his hesitation, you offered him a deal. “I’ll tell you mine, if you tell me yours.”

Xiao, knowing you weren’t going to give up until he relented, nodded reluctantly.

You clapped your hands happily at his defeat.

“My wish is to become someone who can protect the great and mighty Xiao!” you exclaimed, showing him your lantern.

To become someone who can protect the great and mighty Xiao.

- (Y/N)

The adeptus gave you a puzzled look after confirming for himself that you had indeed written the same wish verbatim, onto your lantern.

“Well, you protect Liyue, right? But who protects you?” you asked the yaksha. And you predicted that he would say something along the lines of “not needing the protection of a mere human” or what not, so you chimed in again. “Of course, I’m not as powerful as you are. So my protection will mostly be in the form of Almond Tofus and my company. And I'll always be here for you, whenever you need me.”

“I have no need of you, nor your company.”

You tried not to smile at the fact he didn’t mention not needing Almond Tofus.

“I’m lonely. You’re lonely. So we can be lonely together, then.” Shrugging, you changed the subject before he could retort back. “So, what’s your wish then?”

At the conversation returning back to the topic of his wish, he let out another sigh.

“Hand me the brush, I’ll write it.”

As he silently wrote down his own wish on his lantern, you wondered whether he insisted on writing it himself because he was embarrassed to say his wish out loud. Or was it because he didn’t like your handwriting? You figured it would most likely be the latter. But upon noticing the slight blush dusted onto his cheeks, you couldn't help but second-guess yourself.

And after a short moment later, he handed the writing utensil and lantern back to you.

“You sure you don’t want to come with me to release the lanterns?” you asked him, hopeful that maybe this year would be the year to finally convince the recluse man of joining the festivities. “We can release it on the mountain, instead of in the city if you would feel more comfortable?”

“I would feel more comfortable staying here.” he replied firmly. His tone didn’t give away any leeway of changing his mind, so you decided that the lanterns would have to do this year. But hey, at least he participated.

After gathering your things, you made your way down the steps of the inn, and into the direction of the road leading back to the city. You waved a goodbye up to Xiao, who just watched your retreating figure. It was only when you stopped walking to frantically wave at him, that he gave a half-hearted wave back. He probably breathed a sigh of relief at your absence, once you left his view. But still, the half-hearted action brought a smile to your lips, and it remained with you the rest of the way home.

Once the Lantern Rite festival ended, the Xiao lanterns disappeared as quickly as they had appeared.

You had been tempted to keep Xiao's lantern after the festival, knowing it was the first, but you hoped not the last, lantern Xiao had written a wish on. But the lanterns were meant to be released, not kept. And it wasn't hard to keep the wishes written on yours and Xiao's lanterns to your memory.

In the following days after the Lantern Rite festival, you spent your time contemplating how to go about making your lantern wish become a reality. But as you wracked your brain, continuously pondering over the problem, you were left with one resounding question.

What really could you do for Xiao?

You didn’t have much to offer the yaksha. You were neither rich nor someone with immense power that could rival his. Your company, which you weren’t even sure whether he enjoyed or not, was the only thing you had going for you. Well, that and making him Almond Tofus.

So then, nothing, it seemed.

You sure talked big for someone who had nothing to back it up with.

That was until one day, when you came across a certain object in a treasure chest in your adventures.

“It’d be best if you destroy that, and forget you ever saw it, (Y/N).” the archon responded to your question.

“Why? Isn’t it just another hourglass artifact?”

You figured asking Zhongli about the item would be your best bet. With how old he truly was, the Geo Archon had an immense knowledge of everything, and if anyone knew what the artifact was, it would have to be him.

“That’s one of the artifacts that was lost during the Archon War. It’s far more powerful than any used these days.” The funeral parlor owner took another sip of his tea, before continuing. “It’s infused with the raw power of a god, so it has special abilities.”

“Like?”

The man should've known that you weren’t going to follow his advice from the start. He let out a defeated sigh, before elaborating further. “There were rumors that the god who created that specific artifact had received the Sands of Eon from Time itself.”

“Time is a person- I mean a living being?!”

“Again, just rumors.” he noted. “And supposedly, by infusing the artifact with his own power, it could bend the laws of time.”

Your eyes grew wide at the new information. “So you’re saying this artifact could, in theory, turn back time.”

“In theory, yes.”

How could such a powerful artifact have washed up shore and land into your hands?

You decided to ask him one last question, already getting a slight headache at the information just revealed.

“What happened to the god?”

“It was said that the first and only time he used the piece was after watching his people massacred during the Archon War. He used it to save his people; warning them of the future events beforehand, buying them enough time to flee. Consequently, the price he paid for saving all his people was was at the cost of his own life.”

He left you with some parting final words as you left the funeral parlor, to sort out your thoughts.

“There's always a price for changing the past, (Y/N).”

Your first thought had been to give the artifact to Xiao, allowing him to go back in time to when he made a contract with the evil god, Kubira, who used him as a bloodhound. But remembering the fate of the original owner of the artifact prevented you from doing so.

It was then you were reminded of your lantern wish.

To become someone who can protect the great and mighty Xiao.

This was the answer to your wish.

You could use it yourself, and stop Xiao from forming the contract with whatever means necessary. You made a promise to protect him and by doing this you would be able to. There would be no pain or suffering for him to endure if you were successful. And once you realized that this was the the only way to truly protect your friend, you knew there was no turning back.

You gave yourself a month to prepare. Reading up on everything there was to the Archon War to prevent a change into the outcome, with your sudden appearance in the past. It was also meant a month of pestering Zhongli; asking about anything that wasn't recorded or lost in Liyue's history. You researched everything you could about the evil god, Kubira, as well, in order to prevent the infamous past contract that sealed Xiao's fate.

And it was, perhaps, the first time you were ever thankful to have grown up alone. No close ties with anyone, no family to miss once you left. Sure you had friends, but they could continue to live on without you.

The only one person you realized that you would truly miss and regret leaving behind, was the same person you were going back into the past for. You wondered if he would be okay once you left. You were the only one who pushed through his constant rejection and intimidating demeanor to truly get to know him and to be able to call him a friend.

But if you were successful in changing the past, would he even be able remember you?

The night before your departure, you visited Xiao at the Wangshu Inn, with a bowl of his favorite dish.

The adeptus who didn’t know a word about your plan, paused at the forlorn look you had as you watched him eat his food. It was already strange to him that you were just watching him, instead of asking him how his day was or telling him who you had met on your way over like always. And the forced way you nonchalantly brushed off your watering eyes as seasonal allergies confused him even more. Something was off about the way you were acting. And the question you proceeded to ask him was the icing on the cake.

“Hey, Xiao. If I went missing for some time, would you miss me?”

If you had asked this in the first year you met him, he would’ve probably responded with a relieved no. But currently, he remained silent at your question.

Had your efforts to befriend him pay off? Did you actually manage to squeeze into his heart, and make yourself a little home?

“…I would miss your Almond Tofus.” he replied after a long minute, paired with a straight face.

Well, it was better than a no.

During the early stages of your "friendship" with Xiao, the words, "get lost" were thrown in your direction every time you had come to visit. So to you, his current answer was certainly an improvement.

“Is it really that hard to say, “Yes, (Y/N). I would miss you so much. Don’t ever leave me” ?” you drawled, trying not to laugh when he briefly choked on his food at your choice of words.

Gulping down his water, he cleared his throat loudly. “Ehem. F-fine, I guess I would notice your absence.”

Sure, it wasn’t the confession you were hoping for, but you would take it.

You gave him a small smile, turning your attention to the view from the top floor balcony.

Taking in a deep breath, you gathered up the courage to speak your next words.

“Hey, Xiao.”

You looked at him with another smile, this one not quite reaching your eyes. You took a silent moment to memorize his face, down to every detail. When you reached his eyes, you tried to keep yourself from getting lost in the amber pools. But with one look at them, you failed miserably, falling straight into their depths. And with your undivided attention given to his eyes, you failed to notice the slight reddening of his cheeks.

“Thank you for protecting Liyue. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for being my first love. And most of all, thank you for always being there for me.”

You stood up quietly, holding onto the same bittersweet smile on your face as you neared him. And before he was given the chance to register your words, you quickly left a soft kiss on his cheek; disappearing down the stairs without another glance back.

Regaining his conscious a moment later, he was about to chase after you, knowing you couldn’t have gone far. But a folded letter on the table in front of him distracted him momentarily, giving you enough time to escape.

Xiao,

I thought long and hard about what I could do for you after saying those big words about protecting you. And I think this is the best way to do that.

I know you won’t remember any of this once I come back, if I come back. You probably won’t even remember me. But that’s okay. I’ll be fine, being the only one who remembers, if it means you’ll have a better future. So don’t let my efforts go to waste! Eat something other than Almond Tofu and snow. Make and surround yourself with friends. I hope I showed you that humans can be worthwhile friends too. And don’t ever think that you deserve solitude, because you deserve so much more than that.

Thank you again for everything. I never felt alone when i was with you. I’m still not even sure if you consider us friends, but your friendship meant the world to me. So I’m going to have to insist that we are friends.

I don’t have any regrets leaving. I lived and I loved thanks to you. So now it’s your turn.

I hope you can live your new life without any regrets or burdens weighing you down.

Love Always,

(Y/N).

Part 2 here!

(A/N): i made it into a two part, because it was taking too much scrolling to read everything lol. Also why is Xiao’s story so sad? I did some research before writing and like I’m crying dude.

Like, comment, subscribe, ring the bell for notifications for more videos. jk lol, this isn’t youtube. Just play some Genshin.

#genshin impact imagine #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #xiao x reader #genshin impact xiao #genshin xiao #xiao imagine #xiao x you #genshin xiao imagine #genshin imagine #no beta we die like hilichurls lol

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onyxoverride · 3 years

Text

Special - Gojo Satoru x Reader, Nanami x Reader (female reader) [PART TWO]

warnings: implications of virginity loss (flashback basically) otherwise it's sfw. I already got chapter 3 written so I'll try to post it soon!

PART ONE. ____ PART THREE.

word count: 1.7k

¶ summary: The morning after. You talk about your technique and how you really need an update from Nanami. Reminsencing in past memories.

note: Also, thank you for your likes and reblogs! They really keep me going! I also post on Ao3 and I've written a Kirishima x Reader called Red Lipstick that's fluff with smut coming soon. I appreciate all of you, thank you for reading!

Gojo probably left sometime between your own attempt at aftercare and when you fell asleep. Again, you still were a skilled Jujutsu Sorcerer, you could sense even his presence and cursed energy like a sixth sense, and you didn’t feel it when you stepped out of the bath. You are getting rusty though, and your muscles and endurance you’ve developed over time are slowly withering no matter how much you work out. The school stopped calling you out to the occasional assignment a long time ago and you’re missing the thrill, the adrenaline, and most importantly, you miss being genuinely needed. People needed your abilities to help, to save, to prevent, and here you are the morning after your husband fucked you like you were his personal toy. Which, unfortunately, you were both toys for each other to break when needed. Not break to the point beyond repair, but just enough to feel the release of frustration you two bottle up.

The morning light shines through the bedroom window, your bedroom window, it’s not like Gojo ever sleeps with you unless those occasional nights when you find comfort in each other and he’s too lazy to move. You call it lazy but deep down you know why he stays. To comfort you, to pity you, to pity himself, to try to tend to the weird strings of fate tying you two together. Maybe those times when he stays with you is when he realizes just how dangerous his job is and his ego may be inflated to the size of Mars but he still knows the risks he takes and the risks that are pushed onto his precious students. Gojo knows that the risks he takes and the consequences will ultimately affect you. You really need to ask about his students whenever he shows up next because you are still invested in the world of exorcisms and curses.

To stay in touch with this world you are in continuous communication with Shoko Ieiri, the woman who was a student with Gojo and Geto. You were one year under them and as much as you were present during Gojo and Geto’s… “falling out,” you know just enough to understand but still too little of what happened between them. Shoko still talks too much when she’s drunk but never truly elaborates. Recently she’s been starting to smell like cigarettes again which is never a good sign.

The main person you still communicated with was a horrible texter and would just call when he could if you texted him. He was in your grade when you two went to Jujutsu Tech and you still remember that time after you graduated when you both went on an assignment for a grade one curse. That whole assignment was more than bargained for. You both didn’t expect there to be multiple grade one curses and you were still getting used to your ability, even after graduation. Your ability, you could argue that it could be stronger than Gojo’s if you could correct it. Correct is a very restrictive word for this complicated technique. The technique you inherited skips an unknown amount of generations and you were just lucky enough to be born with it, a Russian Roulette where you actually got the bullet.

It isn’t simple to explain and even more complicated to use but while Gojo’s inherited technique has to do with space and being limitless yours has to do with time. You could limit Gojo Satoru’s, one of the most powerful Jujutsu Sorcerers, limitless techniques. You could make his infinity finite. Which would be great if it was easy to control and wasn’t such a hazard. Do one thing wrong and all of time is erased or compressed, you and everybody you care for don’t exist, not that they died but that your ability completely erased them and you from existence because controlling time is playing with the gods and spitting at their feet. But, besides Gojo, the man you are going to text, and some of the higher-ups, no one knows the vastness and potential of your ability because that would surely cause trouble.

Maybe becoming a housewife was your punishment for not getting the full extent of your abilities controlled? You could still use aspects of it and from an outsider's point of view, it just looks like you create tiny black holes which are actually tears in the time continuum that reverse whoever the target is back to an anatomical state where it doesn’t exist in the current time you’re fighting it. The higher-ups that have studied your ability still don’t know what those small tears really are. They don’t know if you’re sending them forward or backward in time, or perhaps you send them parallel, into a completely different universe, or even adjacent where they are stuck in time just outside of the dimension. It’s unpredictable, and it’s not fun being the user of a technique that's a ticking time bomb.

That assignment after graduating from Jujutsu Tech: You were working with Nanami Kento, the year both of you turned nineteen, almost ten years ago now. One or two grade one curses you both could have handled with little trouble, but there were multiple, like a pack of wolves. And you got too anxious to use your technique because you really didn’t want to have Nanami get stuck in a tear and never be able to come back and there are way too many curses right now and holy shit is there a special grade too?

It definitely wasn’t a fun fight, but you both got it done with some injuries. When you both were patched up by Shoko, who was already working as a doctor for Jujutsu Tech, Nanami’s and your adrenaline were still thrumming underneath your skin because this is the one assignment where you really thought you both would die. You can still remember the look on his face, a little wide-eyed and disheveled, with an arm and abdomen injury, and when he looked at your injury he finally realized how bad it was- a jagged slice from your knee almost to your hip that you still have the scar from- thankfully Shoko was skilled and healed you enough for it to be relatively fine.

When Nanami helped you limp back to your apartment to heal, the adrenaline was thinning out, and the realization he could have died, that he could have lost you tonight finally settled in his veins. So when he gently lowered you into your bed to get the weight off your leg, he held you, and you held him back as he pushed his face into your neck where he was spitting out some curse words. You don’t remember how it changed from that to him kissing you like a starved man but you do remember the rest. He was so gentle, careful as if you were delicate glass and he kissed your adrenaline tears away and you wiped his own tears off his face with shaky hands. He was so shell-shocked and shaky he ended up biting your lip a bit too hard and with a quick “oh god I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” you giggled at him. Because the pain of a bit lip is nothing compared to reality slowly hammering down on the both of you.

Both of you were inexperienced (read:virgins) but the care he handled you with made the difference. Settling himself between your legs on your bed, he’d caressed down your thighs, over your belly, and when you had turned your face into the pillow out of embarrassment, “No, look at me,” he said demanding but desperate. So you turned to him with the warmth of the embarrassment spread down to your chest and even he was flushed, the tips of his ears red. He’d stripped off his shirt and felt under yours as you were tracing your hands down his chest to the bandaged keeping his wound covers.

“Two injured people really shouldn’t be doing this,” you muttered light-heartedly to him.

“Well here we are,” he leaned back on his haunches and looked at you, “unless you want to stop?”

Ah, you could’ve backed out then but honestly, you don’t regret what you both did.

He traced the tips of his fingers oh-so lightly over the bandage wrapping your leg and by then your pants were already worked off, as he’d grind into you holding your hips as flush as possible to his. Caressing every part he could touch without hurting you, and when you tried to feel his arms or anything he would gently take your hands and push them into the pillow behind your head, holding your hands with a look that said “let me savor this.”

The marks he left were nothing compared to the scar that wound was going to leave but now instead of associating the scar with the near death experience, you associate it with Nanami Kento and the rapture you both shared with each other, the man you’re still in contact with today who is a still horrible texter. You genuinely couldn’t ask for a better first time even when it took place after you both almost died and you both were injured.

Sometime after you and Nanami shared that night together you started getting hammered by the Gojo family until you gave in 2 years later. It was interesting how determined they were to get you to marry Satoru because all they knew of your technique is that it was powerful and had a lot of potential.

By the end of the day, Nanami was able to call you after you texted him a simple “update?”

“Do you always just expect me to call you?” Blunt as always, but you have known him long enough to tell when he actually means to hurt your feelings (and he never does). Usually, it’s Gojo on the receiving end of his harsher blunt words.

“Without fail, you always do,” you tease him, “plus, I didn’t want to interrupt your workday, and what if you had overtime?”

There was a pause, “Yeah, I do.”

“Then I would just call you back when I have the chance,” you can already feel the upward tick of his lips even through the phone.

You push out a laugh and kick your feet onto the ottoman so pleasantly placed in your living room area. “Well, I still need that update, and you sound like you need a drink?”

//: 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

#gojo satoru #gojo saturo x reader #saturo gojo x reader #gojou x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #angst #smut #Jujutsu Kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #x reader #⚫.writing #onyx override writing #⚫.teardrop #◆.jujutsu kaisen #❖.gojo satoru #❖.nanami kento

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the-gilbird · 4 years

Text

so i haven’t really posted anything like this before. but fuck it, because good omens is amazing, and i just shared this with the discord server, and they encouraged me to share it here, so. let’s-a-go, i guess

anyway. so. here it is.

so, we all know crowley is capable of massive feats, in terms of miracles. he can stop time on a whim. he can make a car make it through a ring of whatever the fuck kind of flame surrounded london via the m25, and then have it continue to function for several hours after that. he can pull two other entities (including the fucking antichrist) into what i can only assume to be a pocket dimension or something similar outside of time when one of the most powerful entities in the goddamn universe was approaching their location. and we also know why he is capable of the things he does: his imagination. crowley's creativity and imagination are one of the most powerful forces in the goddamn universe and that's not even an exaggeration. now, the other thing. aziraphale. he's smart, and cunning, and the biggest thing working against him is his lack of confidence in his abilities. he deciphered a large portion of agnes nutter's notoriously fucky riddles in one night. he figured out how to possess someone, despite no angel having done it before. and the reason he isn't higher in the pecking order in heaven is because he's kind, and loves the way angels should; and he is told for six millenia that he is not a good angel, which feeds into the lack of self confidence. but after ain'tmaggedon, he's free of heaven's influence. in fact, the only influence he really has now is crowley. and crowley's loved him for that six millenia, and probably sings his praises as often as he can now that crowley is likewise free of hell's influence, because he is a dumbstruck loveass. so aziraphale is more confident in his own abilities and traits, now. and aziraphale is intelligent. agnes nutter's final prophecy got them out of heaven and hell's line of view, and gave them time. but they won't stay away forever; crowley acknowledged that, right after the switch back in the garden. and aziraphale knows that it's only a matter of time before someone notices some discrepency, and they get caught (there's ten million angels and ten million demons, after all. someone's going to notice). so aziraphale begins to plan.

the first thing he does is plant the seeds, if you'll pardon the pun. after things have been settled for some time, he starts researching. pulling out the oldest ethereal (and occult) texts he owns (which are very old, and very numerous), and researching everything he can about the nature of angels and demons, and the nature of holy water and hellfire. and this takes up some time (seeds need to take root, after all. crowley needs to see him doing the research, after all). and occasionally, exactly as aziraphale knows he will, crowley will ask aziraphale what he's looking into, and aziraphale will say he's looking into protections against hellfire and holy water, for if heaven and hell ever figure out their little misdirection. (and crowley will hem and haw at him for referring to deceiving the entireties of heaven and hell, one of the greatest wiles ever pulled off in all of time, with the same language used to talk about magic tricks. and aziraphale will smile, because he loves every part of crowley.) and this will continue. and eventually, aziraphale will tell crowley that he's made a breakthrough. of course, aziraphale won't actually have made that big of a breakthrough. he has everything he needs by day three. but crowley needs to believe it. crowley needs to believe that aziraphale spent that entire time researching and plotting and planning and reading, because aziraphale is the smartest person that crowley knows, and if anyone can figure it out, his angel can. but what aziraphale tells him is that there wasn't any need of a plan at all, really. all this research has essentially been for moot. well, not for moot, because now they both know, but they didn't actually need to do anything with the information, aziraphale explains, because they're already safe, and have been for some time.

because, aziraphale says, holy water and hellfire can't affect them anymore. because crowley loves him with all of his heart, aziraphale explains, and he loves crowley with all of his. (don't technically have a heart, crowley says, still a bit blown away, what on account of them having corporations and not bodies, and all. oh hush, you know what i mean, aziraphale says back, and gives crowley a kiss on the forehead for his trouble.) and if a demon loves an angel, really loves them, hellfire won't burn them, because hellfire is the creation of demons, beings of destruction, generally, fueled by the hatred of their opposition, and so if a demon doesn't hate angels, it won't burn as strongly. and if a demon loves an angel, just one, then the angel won't be destroyed. and it works the same the other way 'round with holy water, aziraphale says, more excitedly, as crowley watches him enraptured, because holy water is blessed by angels, used to wipe out the opposition which they hate. and so if an angel loves a demon, that demon will be protected from the blessing, even blessings created by other angels. because love is a powerful force, it is the basis of the creation of humanity, when god first whispered the idea of them into being. when you love someone and have that love returned, you are giving yourself, wholely and completely, to another, and everything you are protects them with everything you have. it just so happens, aziraphale finishes by saying, that the respective weaknesses and strengths of angels and demons balance out rather nicely. humans put this phenomenon into very nice words, once; you must be subjected to the mortifying ordeal of being known, in order to get the rewards of being loved. and so they are ready. when they come (and they do come, they were always going to come, eventually), they take aziraphale first, just like last time. but unlike last time, aziraphale and crowley are together when their respective former head offices come to deal the killing blows. holy water said to be blessed by the almighty herself, and hellfire harvested from the deepest pits of hell, fueled by satan's everlasting rage. the strongest stuff there is, just so there is every guarentee. (the water fizzles gabriel's skin lightly, even, as a drop falls out as he carries it over, and the fire roars with a heat that even beelzebub inches away from.) it is volatile, it is deadly, and there is absolutely no hope for the traitors now. (or there wouldn't be, if aziraphale weren't so smart.) and crowley is shackled to the ground, his shoulders restrained by... demons? angels? he doesn't know, and he doesn't rightly care at this point, they're all the same to him, forcing him to face aziraphale, shackled and bound just as he is, being led into a roaring inferno of the hottest hellfire crowley has ever seen. and he knows, he knows they're safe, aziraphale looked into every possibility and he trusts aziraphale, trusts him with everything, trusts him with the name he had before the Fall and even with that he can't help struggling, and snarling, and doing everything he can to get out and run to his angel, trying every trick in the book but it's not working because there are too many enemies abound, too many hands holding him down and restraining him as his head is pulled back by his hair and he is forced to watch as aziraphale is shoved into the flames.

(aziraphale knew this, too. crowley is the heart, out of the two of them, he always was, and heaven and hell want every bit of revenge they can get, they want it to hurt. they know it will hurt worst if crowley is forced to watch the love of his life die in front of him, unable to do anything, and for aziraphale to die knowing that he can't protect crowley from what is coming next.) (really, it's no wonder aziraphale figured out agnes nutter's prophecies so quickly; for being two completely different entities, they think with remarkable similarity.) but aziraphale has already protected crowley. he has already protected both of them, because he is the smartest being crowley has ever known, and because he knows crowley, just as crowley knows him. and he knows crowley is, hands down, one of the most powerful beings in all of creation, and crowley's imagination is a force never to be reckoned with. all that stuff aziraphale spouted, about how a love from a demon can protect an angel, and vice versa? bullshit. complete and utter bullshit. aziraphale found what he needed to in those books he researched, and what he needed was just enough solid evidence for him to convince CROWLEY that it was true. it is the biggest, boldest, most daring lie aziraphale has ever told, and he will never tell crowley the truth because he can't. (he has practice, with this whole lying thing. he's lied to humans, he's lied to heaven, hell, he's even lied to crowley before. and he promised crowley he would never tell him another lie again but this one, this one he really can't help, not if it means keeping them both safe, and aziraphale will keep this close to his chest until the end of time. and he will only regret it for a single instance, and that is when he hears crowley's scream as he is thrown into hellfire.) the hellfire doesn't touch him. it can't touch him, because crowley believes it won't. despite being made of the purest anger the universe has ever known, it wraps around aziraphale like a warm embrace, like a gentle smile, like a 'welcome home.' and as crowley sees aziraphale's figure unwavering in the fire, his cry cuts out, and he smiles even as he is drenched, because it worked, just like aziraphale said it would. (and it worked. just like crowley thought it would, aziraphale thinks, as he smiles and sighs a breath of relief that they are finally (finally) safe.)

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #character study #i think? maybe? a bit of one anyway #draws on elements of headcanon and assumption #but overall aligns with canon i think #aziraphale is a genius #crowley has an imagination #lmk if you want me to tag something else #uh #the mortifying ordeal of being known #the rewards of being loved

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natromanxoff · 3 years

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Queen live at Elland Road in Leeds, UK - May 29, 1982 (Part-2)

Fan Stories

“We got a coach from my home town (about 2 hours from memory) and drank an ocean of lager on the way, by the time we got there we needed the toilet so badly we could have exploded! We got into the stadium and waited for the first band of the day. Soon enough a not very well known (to me) American band came on called Heart. They weren't bad but did nothing for me. Then came The Teardrop Explodes who tried and who I reckoned did quite well despite the flying bottles of liquid being hurled at them from the crowd. After them was Joan Jett complete with Blackhearts who got the crowd going with "I Love Rock'n'Roll" mainly because Brian appeared at the side of the stage with his daughter to have a look. Eventually after a long wait the stage lights dimmed and a strange cranking sound started up and then you were suddenly aware of the drum beat to Flash thumping out and spotlights chasing around the stadium. This went on for a minute or so and the excitement was unbearable. All of a sudden in an explosion of smoke, lights, guitars, drums... Brian, John and Roger are there blasting out the opening part of The Hero. Seconds later in a gleaming white leather jacket out runs Freddie and it begins... A moment I will never forget along with many others from Queen shows since and before it. I can't say which show was my favourite as I loved them all but that moment WAS Queen, the sheer power, the anticipation, the fantastic musical ability and above all else the way they gave people what they crave more than anything... wonderful memories.” - whiteman

“29th May 1982 - a really nice warm day. We only lived a few miles away so walked down to Elland Road - I can't believe it - Queen live in my home town at the home of the greatest football team in the country (well maybe not now!). Got to the ground early and were allowed in by security, such a relaxed atmosphere. Saw band's soundcheck - great! So hot sun, never went behind stadium roofs. Got best suntan I have ever had! Heard Teardrop Explodes - not bad. Then you are aware of the beat of flash thumping out around the stadium, the smoke rises and bang - they are on! The greatest gig I have ever seen from the greatest live band in history. God bless you, Brian, Roger and John. Rest in peace, Freddie - we will never forget.” - Michael Quine

“This was my second ever gig, the first being Rory Gallagher the year before (I am sure I once read that Rory was one of Brian May's favourite guitarists). Anyway, being only 14 and not yet in the habit of getting off my face at gigs,I can remember that day very clearly. I am convinced I saw someone throw a hamburger at Julian Cope (Teardrop Explodes were going down like a lead balloon), and just as Julian was opening his gob to sing, he CAUGHT IT IN HIS MOUTH. A huge cheer went up, then they stomped off. Somebody, possibly Queen's manager, came on and told everbody to behave. I also remember a fan getting on stage and Freddie expertly rolling him off the stage. I didnt like the Hot Space album much but was chuffed they were still a hard rock band. I bought the next edition of Kerrang mag and the write up of the gig said STUNNING. Great memory.” - Edwin

“I was 15 years old in 1982 when I attended my first ever concert. Fortunately for me, it was QUEEN's show at Leeds AFC ground in the North of England. I remember when my ticket arrived in the post, possibly 2-3 months before the concert, as was often the case in those days. I stuck my ticket on a cork notice board in my bedroom and could barely contain my excitement over the coming weeks. Every morning, I would wake up and look at the yellow ticket, wishing the days away. I imagined everything that could go wrong would. Queen would cancel the gig, I would break my leg, the family pet would die on the morning of the concert and it would be too insensitive of me to go, the transport wouldn't turn up or would break down, there would be a pile up on the motorway, I'd lose my ticket en route, etc, etc. As it turned out, May 29th 1982 was a hot and sunny day, perfect weather for an outdoor gig. I was CRAZY about Queen and had been since the age of 9 but I really didn't know what to expect on that day. Myself and three friends took a coach organised by my Dad's company from Lancashire across the M62 motorway to Leeds. Our excitement began to really take a hold when we arrived at the football ground and we followed the droves of people towards the turnstiles. To me, this was something on a really big scale and I could already hear the hum of the crowd inside. Not really believing that we were actually about to witness a Queen concert, we found our seats on the West Stand, offering a great view of the stage. I remember marvelling at Queen's new lighting rig and the equipment that adorned the stage, shining in the afternoon sunshine. The ground was almost full at this point and the pitch was heaving with people. The atmosphere was relaxed as people bathed in the sunshine. I remember two guys climbing the fence from the stand and attempting to get a better spot by running into the crowd and losing themselves on the pitch. Their efforts were in vain however as they were quickly located and ejected back into the stand by two security guards. We bought some black Hot Space tour shirts (I wore mine with pride until it literally fell apart) and a programme from a vendor inside the ground and waited for the first band to take the stage. A guy near us shouted and punched his way through Heart's set and then left just as they vacated the stage. Obviously not a Queen fan! The Teardrop Explodes suffered at the hands of the Queen congregation and found themselves battling against a shower of bottles and assorted missiles. Other than that, I don't really remember much about the support bands. I think that Bow Wow Wow were billed to play (an odd choice) but I can't recall if they actually turned up. No matter, we were about to witness what is still one of the best gigs I have ever attended.

As the dusk descended upon us, the giant floodlights were extinguished one by one and the memory of the roar that followed still sends shivers down my spine. Dry ice drifted across the heads of the crowd on the pitch as the intro tape of Flash thumped out of the PA and the strange 'grating' noises added to the recording created a foreboding atmosphere. Two of our party were on the pitch and to this day remember their chests thumping in unison to the powerful rhythm. A sea of hands clapped in perfect time to the beat. To me, this was already an amazing experience. And then the big moment. Freddie, resplendent in dazzling white made his entrance to The Hero and the blaze of the lights. An apt number to start with. Before he had even sung a note, the audience were locked tightly in the palm of his hand. Such an entrance, such a showman. "You're a F***in amazing crowd", he exclaimed after the first rush. The beginning of the gig is, in truth, my strongest memory of the show itself. In particular, the "Flash!!!" vocals cutting through the night air with so much volume. I recall being shocked at the sheer power of Queen's performance and the clarity of the huge sound they harnessed. Morgan Fisher's keyboards during 'Action This Day' sounded bright and hypnotic. Freddie's intro to Fat Bottomed Girls caused quite a response too; "the bigger the t*t the better it is!". I also remember the follow spots darting wildly over the crowd during 'Tie Your Mother Down' and everybody going crazy. Oddly enough (and this is something I still swear by to this day), I was in a Maths lesson at school the following Monday and I swear I had a flashback of this and could actually 'hear' the music being re-played in my head. It was a weird moment and life was never quite the same again. We talked endlessly about our experience for months to come and one of my biggest regrets is not jumping on a train to attend the filmed Milton Keynes show a week later. Having been to so many gigs since, I can honestly say that there is nobody who has been able to top Queen live; I was lucky enough to see the band five times between 1982 and 1986, including Wembley Stadium and their last show at Knebworth. I think that my personal favourite was their performance at the NEC in Birmingham on 'The Works' tour in 1984. People were literally stood there with open mouths, unable to believe how good they were. Leeds is definitely up there too. I recall Brian May stating that he thought it was one of their best performances ever. I can't argue with that Mr May. I've often wondered if an audience shot cine film or even just photographs exist from the Leeds gig. It would be a dream come true to see my memories come to life again.” - Keith Lambert

“I can't believe it was 30 years ago that I attended my first ever gig at Elland Rd Leeds in 1982. I was 17 years old at the time, I was into Queen when I first heard seven seas of rhye, which was so different to all the other stuff around at the time. I'd heard them live on tv, and had Live Killers. Also I used to buy bootleg cassettes of all of their tours from 74 onwards. But nothing could prepare me for that day. They should have played this gig at Old Trafford Manchester, my home town, so I was gutted when the residents opposed it. Tickets were very easy to come by, believe it or not, cos Queen were not seen as a relevant band at that time. Also touring the Hot Space album didn't seem to excite anybody. So, Billy no mates had to go on his own, haha. My memory is a bit hazy, but I will try my best. I got to the ground about 1pm, and was lucky enough to have a pitch ticket. I got right to the front, well about 10 yards from the stage, slightly off centre and to the right. If I told you I never moved from that spot all day and never spoke to anyone, would you believe me? One of the reasons for this is the rivalry between Manchester and Leeds, also I was only a kid, haha. Not sure who was first on, probably Teardrop Explodes, Julian Cope, I remember while they were throwing bottles at him, picked one up and started hitting himself with it and stretching his arms out saying he was an Argentinian bomber or something. It was during the Falklands war, remember. Then Heart came on, not really my cup of tea, and I had a lie down on the tarpaulin and tried to go to sleep. Then Joan Jett, who was better than the rest, but not really exciting. During the band changes, I remember the roadies polishing Roger's drum kit and climbing up ropes and those threepronged lights, which before I saw them move I thought they were cameras. Queen took ages to come on. From my recollection and I might be wrong, they didn't come on until 10pm and went off around Midnight. I heard later that they got fined so much per minute for being late on stage but they wanted to wait until it was dark for the lighting rig to take effect. If you watch the Bowl DVD you will notice it was light when they came on stage there. But that was being filmed by Channel 4. But it was absolutely pitch black when they came on stage at Leeds. Then the floodlights went off, smoke started to appear and strange noises started, which I can't describe, sorry. Then Flash's Theme started, it was loud, very, very loud. I knew they were supposed to be loud and this was the part that scared me. The ground was thumping, the bass just pumping away. The these 'cameras' flicked into life, with men on them. The intro seemed to last for a very long time. Then BANG Brian appears with the first chord of The Hero and a flash of the biggest white light I've ever seen and will never forget and the absolute loudest noise I have ever heard just hit me. The intro was quite in comparrision to this. When I play Live at the Bowl, I tend to repeat the intro and The Hero, virtually every time, because it was definitely a life changing experience for me at that moment, just incredible. Then Freddie appeared in brilliant white again, I was that close, I swear His hair seemed blue because of the mass of white lights. His voice, so loud, so clear, honestly, I can't describe that moment properly. I heard Freddie swear, saw Roger spitting, quite a lot, over his drum kit and onto the stage, I was bewildered.

When they did Play The Game and also Somebody To Love, when Freddie was doing the intros for them and it will sound strange to those that weren't there, but I didn't know what the songs were. I thought they was new unreleased songs. The reason was they was so loud, It kind of deafened you and then kind of sunk in what they were about to play. Then the rest of the gig flew by and I was singing my head off. Everyone was, but you could only hear Queen. Again my memory may be wrong, but I read afterwards that Queen had paid for residents to move out of their homes for the day. These houses were monitored and they said that the sound was like Concorde flying 10 feet over your head... Yep I will buy that. For all that and for all the bad things said about it, The Works tour, which I went to all the 4 origional England gigs they had planned, was the best tour they ever did. The set list was fantastic and the lighting rig was incredible. Not as loud, I also add. I also saw them in Manchester, 86. They had to be off stage by 10pm and noise levels had to be adhered to. I was too far awy to see them and the screens didn't come on because it was too light. Also I couldn't here them properly. I've watched the mMagic Tour gigs on DVD etc, but for me, that was the poorest tour they ever did. So that's it, hopefully some of you can confirm my bad memory, or say I'm wrong. Hopefully not bored you all. But it was the greatest musical experience I ever witnessed and I am proud I was there.” - Paul Wakefield

Part-1

(x)

#queen #queen band #roger taylor #freddie mercury #brian may #john deacon #queen concerts

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highfaelucien · 3 years

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Ardere - A Helion/Lady of Autumn Fic

y’all heathens made me have feelings so i wrote a thing. hurt/comfort, angst, all sorts. Tagging some folks who inspired this with their emotional dashboard shenanigans/that I feel would Appreciate the content. @exiledelain @confused-as-all-hell @asteria-of-mars @ratabrasileira @ladyvanserra @vanserrasvalkyrie @rarephloxes @queen-hypaxia

Title: Ardere

Length: 3.3k

Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse, given Lady Autumn’s situation

Summary: Set during the High Lords meeting in ACOWAR. Canon compliant, I suppose, but do any of us care about that anymore?? Hestia, the Lady of the Autumn Court, seeks her oldest lover and comfort Helion for a stolen night of love and reconnection. Helion POV, emotional hurt/comfort, bit of angst.

Teaser:

‘" Hestia," he whispered, with the same reverence he'd speak the name of a goddess in her holiest temple.

Instinct bade him go to her, and he did not fight it. He didn't even try.

For a moment he thought she might refuse him, might insist upon caution. But the next she was in his arms, and as he held her close and breathed her in, he knew he hadn't been truly warm since last he'd been able to embrace her.

"Helion," she murmured into his chest.

The sound of her voice wrapped around his name was the sweetest torture he'd ever known. All Hyben need do to break him was ask him to defect in her voice and he would obey without a thought.

AO3: Link

"I cannot spare long."

The book he'd been flipping idly through dropped at once from his fingers at the sound of that voice.

Before he'd finished turning to her, her scent hit him. So warm, so inviting, it nearly knocked him back into his chair.

Then he beheld her.

The first time he'd clapped eyes on her, all those centuries ago, she'd left him breathless and stunned.

Like an Autumn storm that had ravaged every part of his being and left him, naked and awed, before its power and majesty. She had blown into his life with an unexpected abruptness as yet unmatched.

He'd been an arrogant prick at that age. Cauldron, he was still an arrogant prick. But he'd been used to everyone's eyes, male or female, following him as he moved through a room.

Those gazes found him and they didn't leave. He was High fae. He was a High Lord's heir. He'd been made to rule Day and to look damned good while doing it.

He'd been accustomed to being wanted, to inspiring lust and envy by simply existing.

Never, before her, had he been on the other side.

He'd never seen someone so beautiful. So consuming and captivating that he hadn't been sure of being able to win their lust and love with a simple smile and an effortless word.

She'd shaken something in him that day. She had entered his world and unmade him with a glance. Then reconstructed him, exactly as she'd found him, with one stark difference. At the core of the man she had rebuilt was a need for her. Not merely her beautiful body, but her heart, her soul. He'd known, in that moment, that she had him. And always would.

The years had taken much from her. And holy gods, did he know it. But they had not taken this, her ability to so thoroughly destroy him that he was reborn at once as her servant in but a single glance.

" Hestia," he whispered, with the same reverence he'd speak the name of a goddess in her holiest temple.

Instinct bade him go to her, and he did not fight it. He didn't even try.

"Helion," she murmured into his chest.

The sound of her voice wrapped around his name was the sweetest torture he'd ever known. All Hyben need do to break him was ask him to defect in her voice and he would obey without a thought.

For all that he made a show, and tell, if he was fair, about what the Cauldron gave him with regards to his body, particularly his glorious thighs, that wasn't his true pride.

No, the thing he held most valuable was his mind which contained the knowledge of a thousand libraries and more.

He didn't earn his name by clearing through spells with his thighs. Fuck no. His wit, his cunning, his intellect, that was where his true power, his true strength as a High Lord came from.

That was why Hestia had always managed to claim him so thoroughly. All these centuries later and he still couldn't think around her. Couldn't form a single coherent thought while her scent filled his lungs. It travelled from there directly to his brain, and filled it with stolen afternoons and illicit nights spent in the only place they truly belonged.

Drawing away, in itself an agony, but one he was rewarded for, as it let him look into her face.

He cradled it between his hands, so careful. so delicate. She was not a fragile woman, he knew that well. She was of the forge, with fire in her veins, and iron in her bones.

The world saw the silence, the frailty of her body, and the resignation of her fate and mistook that for softness, and docility. He knew better.

This woman put the heroes of the War to shame. Her strength, her courage, her will - if they had any idea they'd have written epic poems about her resilience and ballads to her spirit.

Drakon wouldn't have lasted an hour in her place. Had she been in his, the damned War would have ended so fast they wouldn't have been able to call it one.

Yet he held her with all the gentleness that was in him. Not because he feared she might break without it; but because he knew she would find none elsewhere.

His fingers tenderly brushed her hair from her eyes. Like her, their, son's it was a red as sure as blood. But hers spiralled from her in a cacophony of raucous curls. They were contained, now, with a thick leather band around her head. He would always remember them wild, and free, as she was meant to be.

As he moved them aside, he saw the shadow of a bruise around one of her beautiful russet eyes. Hidden well, but...

His body went taut, jaw clenching instinctively. She felt the tension coiling in him, and laid her hands gently over his.

"Don’t," was all she said, voice soft, but unyielding, like the sun’s gentle rays as it rose each morning.

"Not a heartbeat has passed for me since that day," he rumbled, voice deeper and darker than his usual light, playful timbre." That I have not thought about the choice that was made, and begged the Mother to let me change it."

She faced him steadily and said, " You know I made the choice that was available to mem" she moved closer, her body melting against his, like the hot metal of a blade folded around itself to create something more, "Not the one I wanted."

"I know, my hearthlight,” he whispered softly, sensing her smile at the old pet name he used for her, “And I would never blame you for that. But as for myself-"

A coward. This woman. This holy, burning creature. This caged forest fire... She loved a coward.

Hestia placed a finger to his lips, silencing him, " What good does it do," she murmured the rich warmth of her voice caressing him like a thick blanket on a cold winter night, “To dwell upon the past? To linger, in misery, and shame in a single moment of your immortal life?”

He opened his mouth to answer her, but she knew him too well, and silenced him with but a single look.

"Will your regret force back the sun?” she demanded with that quiet spirit he loved so keenly, “Will your sadness take us back? Will your guilt rewrite the pages of the history books which have been gathering dust in your libraries for centuries?"

She was such a small thing. She always had been. And seemed more so, held between his muscular arms. Yet she dwarfed him now.

Like the flicker of a candle flame catching and summoning a raging inferno to remind him she was but a fragment of a force of nature, bound in skin, but never truly caged.

"If I could have," he said at last, voice a little hoarse as though he'd inhaled thick smoke, “I would have done so a thousand times over. And paid any price to do so."

He had tried. He'd never confess it to another soul, not even to the Mother herself upon his deathbed, but he had tried. Tried to rip apart the fabric of all reality with nothing but his bare hands and love for her.

A part of him was still surprised that it had not been enough. Because it was. Reality had simply not accepted that particular facet of its existence.

"I know you would have, lucky fluke," all these years and still she called him that.

A name she'd hung on him to tease the first day they had met. He'd baldly called their meeting the Mother's own ordained fate. She'd laughed, with a sound like falling leaves, and named it, and him, lucky fluke.

Then, the words had been edged with mockery. Now they echoed with all of their history, with all of their fondness, and all of her love.

"But time goes on. That sun of yours still journeys East to West, and we still live with the decisions we made upon a summer's night a million fireflies' lifetimes ago."

" Hestia-" he began, but she quietened him once more.

"When I wish to look back, Helion, I shall find myself a mirror,” she said, with the strength that had held her together all these decades of pain and misery, turned upon him now to remind him that she would not yield.

“I will not live my life wading through times I have already endured,” she said, voice softer now, but no less intent, “I have no wish to allow him to cause me pain in the few and rare times that are my own. I shall make pleasant moments here, with you, and that is what I ask of you. To be with me. Here. Now. And to love me while we can."

"I am yours, Lady,” he breathed.

With the same breath he’d first pledged that to her centuries ago. Before the world had taken the freedom she craved so much, and given him a power he’d never wanted. A tattoo of her heart had etched itself over his own, in a vibrant red, a marker of the bargain he’d made. Unintended, but not regretted.

“From now until my sun fades from this world unto the next," he promised her once more, one hand over his heart.

"Until I find you there as well," she replied, as she had all those years ago, leaning up, while drawing him down, and touching her forehead to his.

He loved her. Oh, Cauldron, he loved her, and whatever the Mother had used to make her, he loved that too.

"Come," she said softly," Let us make the most of what time we have."

So they did.

"What do you want from me, Hestia?" he whispered, pressing the worlds into her thick hair, his face buried in the crown of her head.

She looked at him, and answered as she did each time with aching certainty, and absolute truth." Everything."

"Then take it." he whispered, a devoted priest at last within the presence of his deity, “All I have, and all I do not. Take it all."

So she did.

They had no need of words in that hallowed space when bodies and beings connected, skin to skin, and soul to soul.

The breath it would have cost to provide a vessel for their thoughts would have only felt like a barrier between them.

They had no wish for that.

He knew her thoughts. And she knew his. They did not need to share them with the air and fireflies.

For themselves, they gave voice to those thoughts in the lost language of lovers. Spoken in the gasps of breath and sweating palms.Thundering hearts, and hungering lips. Gasping lungs, and grasping touch.

And every thought the same: I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Then came the quiet. The gentle tangle of limbs. Eyes closed, heartbeats aligned. Willing the dawn to wait for them.

They did not sleep. They would not waste time on dreams when they already had everything they could ever hope to find in that untamable oblivion already contained within their embrace.

"It has been some time," Helion said at last, loath to break the spell of the silent commune of their souls, but such was his nature,"I thought the most of you I would ever make love to again was the echo of our last time, the memory of you."

He shifted slightly, so that he could see her face, all peaceful lines and soft curls, her eyes still closed.

"Why now, Hestia? With him," his jaw tightened at the mere mention of that excuse for a male, "So close the risk-"

"Is minimal," she interceded smoothly. Still without opening an eye, she continued." I drugged his wine. He shall sleep until daybreak. At least."

Helion opened his mouth, then closed it, refusing to be drawn off course "You didn't answer my question."

"I thought the answer would be obvious to you, lucky fluke," she murmured.

"You know you reduce me to the wits of a mere mortal, hearthlight," he said, half burying the words in her thick hair.

" Hmm," she hummed, thoughtful, "Must I spell it out for you, then, brightheart?"

"If you would be so good, my lady."

She was quiet so long he thought she might have succumbed to sleep, despite their pact.

At last she said, quiet as an Autumn breeze, " Each morning, when I open my eyes, and watch the sun rise beyond my window, I prepare myself for pain."

He flinched, but she seemed not to notice, continuing calmly.

"This has been my burden to bear through all my years of marriage And I have borne it well, without falter, or complaint.

"I have known pain in many forms, and I have carried every one. But upon the horizon, I saw a new pain. One I had not confronted for so long. And I knew, in my soul, that I was not equal to it. That, at last, I would meet a battle I could not win. And so I found a way to avoid fighting it altogether."

"What did you foresee, hearthlight?" he forced himself to say.

"This war," she murmured, her ever-steady voice cracking in a way that made him pull her closer still. "This war came. And it claimed you. It took you from me when you had not been mine in centuries. And I could not abide that."

"I am always yours," he whispered fiercely.

"Peace, brightheart," she soothed, "I know that. But I had to feel it. I had to erase the idea that last time was the last. I had to have you, and hold you, and love you once more before the end. Or else I knew I could not face this war. Not alone."

He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and held it, eyes closed, heart pounding, fighting every urge not to speak the words batting past the lump in his throat. But he had never been as strong as her.

"I cannot let you go this time, Hestia," he groaned, " I cannot sit idly, and smile, and tease while I've willingly let you go again."

"If I can find the strength to do what must be done," she said, with iron in her words, "Then you must find the strength to let me."

"I can't," he said, voice breaking. She found his hand and squeezed it, "I am a High Lord in my own right now, Hestia." he breathed to her." I could-"

"No, you could not." she said, firm, unyielding, a rock in an icy stream, with waters all around, that had not moved in centuries, and would not now.

"There is a war coming, Helion. Win or lose in a fight for me, it would shatter this fragile alliance, and any hope for Pythian. So you will do no such thing." she went on, before he could protest, "For we must win this war. For our courts. For our people. For our freedom. And for our son."

For the first time her voice broke. Before they fell, his fingers had already lifted to wipe her tears. the only ones she would shed. Not for herself. Never for herself. But for her, for their, son... She had never confronted him with it so boldly before.

He closed his eyes, unable to deny her. Unable to even deny her.

"We have to tell him, Hestia," he said, so softly.

"We must," she agreed, "But I have not been allowed to see him in almost three hundred years. And I will not have you tell him alone. As much for his sake as for yours."

He nodded, head bowed.

"Together, then. If I make it through what is to come."

Reaching up she took his chin between her fingers and drew his face down to meet her eyes.

"You will not die this war, Helion," she told him.

Her words flared with that fire she was forced to hide from everyone, everyone but him.

"Because if you try, I will drag the Mother by her hair to your grave and force her to dig you up for me."

He smiled at those words, at the certainty that she would do exactly as she said.

"That almost makes me want to try it, you know," he purred, tracing vague patterns into the bare skin of her shoulder with his thumb as he spoke, "Just to see you do that."

She actually growled at him which, from her, was enough to utterly dissuade him from the notion.

They lay in gentle silence together, until the velvet blackness of night bled to indigo, as the careless artist of time spilled the white she used to craft the stars into the sky itself and melted its darkness.

"I've always found it ironic," he mused, "That being High Lord of Day hasn't blessed me with the power to halt the sun, and stop the day from intruding."

"That is your duty, brightheart." she replied with a soft smile." You must assert yourself upon the land, its sleepy lovers, and restless thieves alike, and force them to make haste and more. Without you there would be no growth, no change, only stagnation and decay."

She cupped his face in her hand, a hand now lined, to show the life she'd lived. Without him. His heart lurched at the thought.

But her voice drew him back to her as she said, "And without Day, the nights would not seem nearly so precious."

He pressed a gentle kiss to her waiting mouth, silent thanks for her words, the feeling behind them. He held her eyes a moment more. spinning out this last bit of thread, like a frugal weaver making the most of fate's allotment.

Then he said, irritably, "I'm still going to have words with Thesan later today."

She laughed as he said that, but she laughed as she withdrew from him.

How fittingly ironic that the sweetest sound he'd ever heard paired in this moment with the bitterest sorrow he'd ever felt.

He watched her as she withdrew the new gown she'd thought to bring. At a silent glance from her he rose, still naked, and helped to seal her back into her cage of cotton and lace.

He combed and braided her hair, as he'd done a thousand times before. Then, heart aching, as it had a thousand times before, he spun a ward around her, to mask his scent where it mingled with hers. She could carry no reminders of this night save fragile memory.

Then, like the night, with one final kiss, she was gone. The chamber felt cold, even as it was bathed in his light.

Wordless, he pulled on a robe and strode onto his balcony to greet the rising of his sun.

It was a hollow warmth, compared to her, and brought him little comfort.

As he gazed ahead into his eternity. Alone, once more. Lonely in a way only she would know. For the world saw the friends he surrounded himself with, and the lovers he brought to his bed, without ever knowing the gaping void in his soul that he could never fill with them.

Closing his eyes, he drew in one last breath of her, of them, their scents still mingling on his skin, then banished it.

He turned towards the light, facing this new day, and begged the Mother to lend him even a fragment of his heartlight's strength that he might face it.

***

#helion spell cleaver #the lady of the autumn court #helion x lady of autumn #hestia vanserra #hearthlight #(that's what im tagging them)#(bc she doesn't have a name so im going OLD SCHOOL SHIP TAG STYLE)#this made me feel things #acotar series #text post tag #long post #my fic #mine #hearthlight fic #helion fic #hestia fic #mama lucien

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that-house · 3 years

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Viego Rant (villainy and character design and tragedy and all that jazz)

Introduction The more I think about Viego, League of Legends’ newest character, the more enamored I am with him as a villain (unrelated to his general sexiness, though that does tie in with what makes him such a good villain).

I’ve seen a lot of complaints about his design. The Ruined King, one of the greatest threats in Runeterra, the progenitor of the Shadow Isles, the lord of the undead, is finally released as a playable champion and he looks like this:

People were expecting another Mordekaiser (who is similarly an undead king with a ghost army), a lich-tyrant clad in iron, decayed flesh peeling from an aged face. What we got was an angsty anime prettyboy, and it was infinitely better than the alternatives.

Lore Viego isn’t a conquering king. While his combat abilities are indeed badass, his personality is far from it. He’s a whiny brat and that’s incredible. He isn’t bent on world domination. His character arc revolves around just how human, how fallible he really is. For those unfamiliar with his lore, I’ll paraphrase it here:

Viego was the second son of a great king. Overshadowed by his brother and with no expectations upon him and near-limitless wealth, he wandered around being an idiot fuckboy for the vast majority of his formative years. Disaster struck when his brother died in an accident, and Viego took the throne with no training, no experience, and no desire to be king. He was a shitty king. The worst king. Just all-around apathetic. Gave zero shits. Can you blame him? It’s a lot of responsibility to be thrust upon someone who isn’t much more than a child, and with no preparation. He didn’t care about anything, that is, until he met Isolde. She was a poor seamstress, but he fell in love with her upon their first meeting. Together they ruled the country but it was really just them staring longingly into each others’ eyes. His allies were kinda fucking pissed about that, and one day an assassin came from Viego. The assassin fucked up and stabbed Isolde instead, and the poison on the blade made her fall gravely ill. As she lay in her bed, slowly dying, Viego went mad seeking a cure. He ravaged the land seeking any knowledge that might help, pouring all of his money into finding an antidote. He failed. As a last resort, he brought Isolde’s body to the Blessed Isles, a place rumored to be able to resurrect the dead. It worked, to an extent. Isolde’s wraith, confused, afraid, and angry at being ripped from the peace of death, unthinkingly stabbed Viego in the chest with his own magic sword, creating basically a magic nuke that turned the Blessed Isles into the domain of the undead. Viego resurrected as the king of the Shadow Isles some time later, having totally forgotten that Isolde killed him. He controls a big-ass ghost army, could probably beat up any living thing in a fight, and has evil ghost magic. Now this stupid simp wants his wife back and if he has to kill every living thing on Runeterra, well, anything for his queen. He’s even a tier 3 sub to her Twitch.

Music His musical theme isn’t some heavy metal anthem or intense cinematic piece (unlike the Pentakill song named after his sword, Blade of the Ruined King). It’s mostly sad and slow, almost sinister, with a piano and a music box. It has its loud moments featuring violins and choral bits like any villainous music, but the song is mostly subtle. It is a banger though.

youtube

In the comments section of this video, someone pointed out that the music reflects his story from beginning to end:

Everything about this champion is so well done. Riot Games really outdid themselves on this one. Bravo, encore please.

Motivation While the Mordekaiser circlejerkers on r/LeagueofLegends won’t shut the fuck up about how powerful Mordekaiser is, Viego is the better villain. Mordekaiser may be a bigger threat to all life on Runeterra, but Viego is a better character. (There’s a guy on my League discord server who won’t shut up about Mordekaiser so forgive me for being pissed at Morde stans).

Mordekaiser is motivated by a desire for control, to rule the world. Viego is motivated by obsession and misplaced love. There aren’t a lot of Mordekaisers on Earth. Supervillains are rare in real life. But Viego’s motivations are a lot closer to home. People in positions of power that they don’t deserve can do a lot of harm (for example: Trump).

He’s a grieving husband who was never prepared to deal with anything more difficult than choosing what wine to drink with dinner, who is trying to get his wife back because the world had always complied to his every whim. He’s a funky mix between a truly hopeless romantic and a spoiled brat throwing a temper tantrum.

Obsession is scary. It’s a real-world emotional state that’s been the cause of a lot of murders over mankind’s history. In contrast, Mordekaiser’s cartoonish Genghis Khan XXL schtick isn’t something that we encounter often. Of course a superpowered ultradictator would be worse for the world, but if you give ultimate power to a random person, you’re more likely to get someone like Tighten from Megamind. Or, more relevantly, Viego.

Design His design is sexy and stupid, just like him. He wears an open shirt into battle and wields his sword like an idiot (I’ve seen all the rants about how that’s not how that sword is meant to be used) because he was never really a warrior. Even at his most violent, right before the end of his mortal life, he didn’t do much combat himself, leaving his military endeavors to his underlings. Even now that he’s essentially a god, he still has a colossal wraith army that causes far more devastation than he ever could personally.

Despite his slim build (by League of Legends standards), he easily wields his colossal sword because of the strength of his state of undeath. Like his political power when he was alive, his posthumous magical and physical powers were never something he sought out, they were just given to him by circumstance.

The big cool-ass triangle hole in his chest where Isolde stabbed him is the source of the Black Mist, which is evil ghost mist that ebbs and flows from the Shadow Isles, bringing with it hordes of the undead. The sadder Viego is, the more Mist he creates. Poetically, his invasion of the world is inspired by his sorrow at his wife’s death and enabled by his wife’s reluctance to return to him. His story is perfectly reflected by his design.

Isolde Isolde’s spirit took up residence inside a young Senna (who’s another League champion, not particularly important here). This led to some Black Mist-related shenanigans and at least for the time being, Senna uses Isolde’s power to fight off the servants of Viego which threaten all life on Runeterra.

It seems pretty clear that whatever love Isolde felt for Viego is gone by now. Whether or not she ever loved him or was just unable to say no to the king is up for debate, but I’d like to believe there was something there. In my opinion, Viego’s story hits harder if they really were a great couple at first, torn apart by circumstance and obsession.

Much like the Maiden of the Woods in that one comic that circulates around here, to whom the knight gave his heart and she was like “yo what the fuck i literally never asked you to do this,” Viego went a little too far in trying to save her. They may have once been happy, but the Ruined King ruined his own life, too.

Unless Isolde is a lot less morally decent than we’ve been led to believe, I doubt she can forgive all the massacring that her husband’s been doing lately. In the recent cinematic, she was shown to be pretty anti-Viego. Maybe she’ll get a bastardization arc, but it certainly seems unlikely.

All of Season 2021 is based around Viego, Isolde, and the Shadow Isles, so we’ll just have to see what comes next. It’s possible that we’ll get Isolde as a playable champion, which should clear a lot of things up.

Final Thoughts Unlike so many villains, he’s not fueled by rage or hatred, but rather by sorrow. He’s stuck in his past, unable to move on. He regrets the actions of his life but is set on his course now. The sunk-cost fallacy comes into play here; he’s put so much time and effort and blood into bringing back Isolde, that turning away from it would feel to him like an insult, not only to her but to the innocent lives he’s taken in her name.

His tale is a tragedy, a love story gone horrifically wrong. Viego has suffered throughout his thousand-year life. Despite this, he’s undoubtedly the villain. His permanent death would be a net positive for the world. In has rage and grief he’s destroyed multiple civilizations, and will burn down the world to get Isolde back.

His heart may be in the wrong place, but it’s in a very human place. I don’t think he’ll get the ending he’s looking for, but I hope he finds some closure in the end.

#League of Legends #viego #i swear no one's gonna read this #even if you dont care about League i tried to make this interesting #even if you don't like League as a game the lore is pretty fucking solid

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