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utterlyazriel · 2 months

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whom the shadows sing for — (and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: here she is... chappie four <3 thank u for ur patience and 1000 kudos to the anon that made a plot suggestion that i had already written lmao-- as always let me know what u think! things are heating up....

word count: just under 4k

synopsis: You return to regular training for the first time in a month. Azriel asks a favor from Rhys and finds you in a less than stellar condition when he returns to camp

CHAPTER FOUR :: FRIENDS

Velaris is a sight for sore eyes.

After nearly a month of endless white scenery, of the blinding glint of the sun against snow, paired with endless pine, the sight of a city is a reprieve in itself.

And because it’s Velaris — because it’s home — something else settles within Azriel.

A hackle that always stays on high alert finally lies down. The constant agitation of his shadows falls into a calming hush. He breathes easier.

He's back with his family and can be here to keep them safe if need be. He's back to the closest semblance of comfort he's ever known.

Where do you find comfort?

Azriel blinks a little, taken aback at the abruptness of the thought.

The lone shelter in the mountains, spaced out from the circle of buildings, every bit representing your isolation from the people of the camp — that was your home.

Where you resided and took solace from the world in, the place you felt safest. But... it's no place of comfort. It's a crutch. A necessary support. Somehow, Azriel has no doubt that if you could survive out in the snow, burrowed amidst the elements, you would, if only to have one less thing to maintain.

You've never even seen a city before, he thinks. All you know is the mountains.

Suddenly, eyes cast across the breathtaking beauty of Velaris, the hum of the Sidra carving its way through his beloved home, the buzz of people on the streets, Azriel recalls the very time he lay eyes on it himself.

It never stops being breathtaking. That much is true, but then again, there was no comparison to the first time.

The warm feeling that had grown in his chest. The way something he hadn't known ever existed within him had unfurled, like a flower blooming in the sun. Something Azriel now knows to be hope.

He hadn't known a place this beautiful could exist.

Wouldn't have been able to dream it up when all he had known for so, so long was darkness and shadow.

Even in the time after the cage, all there was to see was the white of winter and the cold bite of the harsh mountains. He learned how blood looked melting into the snow, how to sleep with one eye open, and all the different shades of cruelty.

Azriel remembers being unable to comprehend the sight, the stumble in his heart at the indisputable proof before him. That despite what had been drilled into him by his father, his brothers, by every Illyrian warrior who punched down on bastards, there was a place where peace reigned above all.

People who lived in harmony. Where Art and music are considered a treasure alongside other skills, each equally important. And Azriel belonged there, as much as any of them.

It had been one thing to walk through the city, to marvel at every cobblestone, at the trims lining each and every window, to have people regard him with such a polite and casual manner — not a second glance at his wings or his hands.

It had been something else entirely to fly over it as night fell.

Mountain ridges illuminated by his most constant friend, the rising moon, watching the moonlight spill over the dark red rock of the mountain and paint it ever softer. Sweet ocean air and the very perfume of the city intertwined within the current as he soared above it, mighty wings beating.

Azriel could remember that first day and night in Velaris vividly, like an unforgettable dream. How easy it had been to fall in love with it, to let its arms unfurl and to allow himself to make a home within them.

Looking out across it now, as Faelights begin to twinkle and blink to life as the night creeps in, all Azriel can think of is how much he wants that for you.

To bring you here. To have both of you fly above the city and wander down the streets aimlessly, to show you that there were places far kinder in this world than all you had known before.

He yearns for you to have the same dawning realisation he did—that so much more existed outside of those gods forsaken mountains.

Azriel knows you're a very guarded male. You have more than enough reasons to be. He's already pushed a thousand boundaries you have and each time you let him into your sanctuary in the mountains is a sign of enormous trust.

Maybe for that reason, Azriel wants to be the first to extend that kindness to you.

A twinge in his chest sings a different, golden answer.

Azriel ignores it and steals one more look out at his home, swallowing down how all logic seems to be pointing to the same thing, time and time again.

He finds the High Lord in his study, papers stacked high on his desk that have only grown higher in Azriel's absence. His dark hair is tousled in a way that means he's been running his hand through it too much.

Azriel lifts the shadows from beneath his feet as he enters, letting the other hear the sound of his soft footsteps. Rhys looks up at the new arrival. Despite his tired appearance, it does nothing to dim the grin that overtakes his lips at the sight of his brother.

"My, my, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"

Azriel grins back, stepping forward Rhys pushes back from his desk and stands. His usual wings have been hidden away through his magic and Azriel notices their absence when he pulls him into a brief hug. Rhys lingers close, his violet eyes raking over his friend.

"Not bad to see you either."

"You flatter me." Rhys purrs, his voice all buttery and smooth. "You've got new eyebags. Overworking yourself as usual, are we Az?"

"I presume you make such lovely comments about Feyre too?"

"And risk her wrath?" Rhys smiles, eyes glittering at the mention of his mate. "Never."

Azriel rolls his eyes, letting his obvious endearment at his brother's happiness show. They truly are a perfect pair.

He crosses his arms across his broad chest tightly, if only to hide the fleeting flicker of wanting the spools tight in his chest. A ribbon of envy, woven between his ribs.

If Rhys notices, he doesn't comment. Instead, he says, "Usually, you're itching to escape the mountains but not this time I see."

He pauses, eyeing up the Shadowsinger to see what response it'll give. Azriel yields no comment back. Expecting this, Rhys smiles.

"Either way, you'll be happy to hear that Cassian has returned from his time off and is ready to resume his usual duties."

Azriel stills at the words.

He knew that Cassian would at one point return to his usual positions and that Azriel himself, would return to his spymaster post. But it's come sooner than expected. Perhaps, time with you has been passing far quicker than Azriel thought.

"I found the cause of the rumours."

"Yes, I assumed you had," Rhys says, wandering back around the deck to slump into his chair. He leans one arm against the armrest, his knuckles against his temple.

"I also assumed that you spent all that time dealing with it. Much of a problem?"

Azriel considers his words carefully. The trust he's managed to garner with you is fragile, though he knows his friend would not severe it or interfere if he asked.

Another part of him knows it's unusual behavior of him, to offer his skills so willingly to a stranger. But, well, you're not exactly a stranger anymore.

"There's a male.” Azriel begins, choosing his words carefully. “A bastard, the one causing all the stir-ups. He feeds the other bastards when he can. It's what had Lord Mylind kicking a fuss."

Rhys curses lightly at the realisation of just which camp they are dealing with.

"He's learning to make healing tonics," Azriel continues, noting how Rhys' head straightens up a fraction. Interested. "In hopes of slipping them to freshly clipped females. To see if it can reverse the damage."

Rhys sits back in his chair completely, his hand brushing over his mouth in deep contemplation. For a moment, he says nothing.

"I suppose I don't need to ask if there's been any female training then."

Azriel feels himself glower instinctively, his wings hiking up an inch higher without meaning to. He thinks of Lord Mylind and the conversation he had on the first day in their camp. The sheer display of male arrogance, snarling, and threatening violence outright.

"No.”

Rhys curses again, his eyes crushing closed. He seems to filter through a pained reaction, his face contorting until it lands on a tired resignation.

“The camp of Exordor made very good on a bargain struck during a very hard time.” Rhys grits the words out.

Something dangerous flashes in his eyes at the mention of the deal that had turned sour. A cold ripple of night shudders through the room.

No amount of soldiers supplied during the war had been worth the suffering that camp Exodor alone produced— or continues to produce if the whispers that came out of there held an inkling of truth.

It’s a rotten place, tucked deep in the mountains, and some of the worst brutes Rhys has ever had the displeasure of meeting were born in the bowels of that place.

“It doesn’t lift for another 50 years." Rhys sighs, his voice wavering with a hint of shame. "I can’t touch them without slaughtering them all— innocent or not.”

Azriel didn’t say anything for a moment. This information is not new. He watches as Rhys digests his silence, leaning back in his chair as the wheels spin in his head, dizzyingly fast.

For the second time, Rhys' brows jump.

“You’re helping him.”

Not a question.

Azriel nods.

"You don't want Cassian to take back over."

"No," Azriel murmurs. "Not yet. The male is... He's guarded. Isolated. It has taken time to earn his trust. I believe in what he wants to do and I believe he has what it takes to achieve it.”

He thinks of the quiet evenings within your shelter, your patience as you taught Azriel what you could — how you took every piece of information from him on the chin, not one complaint of ever tiring. He thinks of the heaving in his chest, the tug on his heart.

"I ask that you let me see this out." Azriel finishes, his shoulders rolling back as he stands tall. Let Rhys understand how this had become more than just a mission to him; it’s a personal calling, one he must answer, one that he needs to see out to the end.

Rhys surveys him intensely, unblinking for a moment. Then something devious crosses his face, catching in a smile.

"That's not the only thing you want to ask me, is it?"

Azriel looks to the ground, suddenly bashful. This would be entirely too revealing of the closeness he felt, to ask this, to offer this. He asks anyway.

"I wish, with your permission, to take Heartstriker." Azriel's voice rumbles lowly. He forces his eyes back up, meeting Rhys' strong gaze. "To gift to him."

Something dips into Rhys' smile, threatening a smirk and for that reason alone, Azriel feels his ears tinge hotly. His face remains calm, however, giving nothing away.

"Heartstriker? As a gift?" Rhys repeats, with a sly smile. "Pray tell Brother, when's the wedding? Since when have you ever been known for gift giving, let alone something as dear to you, such as a sword? I might just have to meet this bastard."

Azriel’s ears only get hotter, betraying him. He prays it doesn't show on his face, though he's sure the increased swirlings of his shadows give him away. And Rhys’ infallible ability to read his flustering each and every time.

"Is that permission?"

Rhys, seemingly realising he won't be getting any juicy details, quits tormenting his brother with a flourish of his hand. He leans back in his chair relaxed, a softness creeping into his expression.

"It's been yours to take all these years, Az." Rhys finally lands on. "You did earn it, after all."

—

The shelter looks bigger without him here.

Betrayingly, it’s the first thought you have when the door swings open, letting you into your nest of safety. You heave in a breath that rattles loudly and it gets swept up in the foul whistle of the Mother's Kiss.

On your side, your blood-soaked hand clutches your abdomen tightly. Pain spiderwebs up your body, fraying every nerve with a burning agony.

Every step feels loud and clumsy.

You cough as softly as you can, yet still feel the warmth of blood on your lips. The familiar metallic tang overwhelms your mouth.

You must be dripping blood behind you, dragging a slushy mess of crimson snow in on your boots. Fuck, what are you doing again? Your head throbs. They must've knocked your head hard this time if you're losing focus this quickly.

The Mother's Kiss howls fiercely, a reminder of the cruelty outside your little haven.

Right. You remember you need to close the door— and you shove the deadbolt closed along with it. If your ribs were aching a little less, you would reach up and do up the second deadbolt too, at the top of the door. You try to anyway.

Your arm gets mid-way up before you freeze, pain lashing every nerve in your midriff, enough to make you wince loudly. The bindings on your chest aren't helping. For a moment, dark spots dance before vision as you quickly tuck your arm back down, moving too quick.

Fuck. Fuck. One deadbolt will have to do.

It feels as if the whole world lurches when you take your next step, blurring like thick taffy for a split second. You stumble towards your bed and realise as you sink onto your knees on the edge of it, you need to dress your wounds.

Another bloody cough. Has your nose stopped bleeding yet? It's impossible to tell between each and every other ache.

What were you doing again?

Without meaning to, you begin to slump over, nearly lying down in your bed.

Dressings! That's right, you need to make sure the wound on your side isn't still bleeding, need to make sure it's clean when it finally begins to clot, need to...

Need to... what did you need to do?

That's right— you need to sleep.

Your head crumples against the pillow like a dead-weight as you collapse against it, exhausted. As your consciousness wanes, you cough again, a splatter of red spraying your pillow.

Not good, you think absentmindedly. Eyes slipping shut, you miss the familiar figure out the window, approaching through the storm.

—

You're wincing before you even realise you're awake.

Crackling. Logs spitting out little snaps fill the air, the quiet roar of a hearty fire; the first things you hear when you come too, far too slowly for your own liking. Your left ears hum loudly in discomfort— no doubt a result of one of the harsh hooks you had caught in the face earlier today.

Next, you smell something... clean?

Your tongue comes out gingerly, licking your cracked lips and you realise quite suddenly, there's an absence of blood on them. The thought slams into you at the same time you realise; you hadn't been able to stay awake for long enough to even light a fire.

Panic reaches through your ribs and grips your heart, tight, and you sit up without thinking.

Pain follows you closely like a lazy afterthought that slams into you, soaking into your body meanly and making you regret moving so fast. Your head swims heavily, throbbing dully.

A pained noise threatens to leave your lips and you force it down. Then force your head up, eyes blinking rapidly, trying to assess the threat, trying to do something.

Panic squeezes your heart painfully again when your hazy vision clears just enough to reveal the shape of a body before you— your blood chilling in your veins as you realise there's somebody else in here with you.

The whimper you held back before slips out before you can help it, your body squirming backward without thought. Your breaths comes out in sharp pants, bursts of pain accompanying each one, and right as you hit the wall, your vision focuses.

Your lungs empty in relief.

It's Azriel before you, on his knees, his scarred hands are held out in front of him.

They aren't touching you, just hovering, his palms up to indicate he means no harm. His wings are tucked back, hunched down to be smaller than usual, and all around him, his shadows whirl about animatedly.

There's an expression on his face you've never seen before.

"—on't move," He's saying, his low voice finally registering in your ringing ears. His hazel eyes are fixed on your face, darting about quickly. "You'll re-open your wounds."

He's talking about your wounds but for some gods forsaken reason, all you can think is how surprised you are that he came back.

The thought loops endlessly, like a holy mantra —he came back, he came back, he came back— and you realise that you were both terrified and also sure that he wouldn't be coming back at all.

That somehow, somewhere along his trip back to his home, he would have realised you weren't anything worth coming back for.

"Azriel?" You wheeze.

Just to check—you have to check.

Maybe he's a mirage. He certainly would be the kindest mirage you can think of.

You think you see something soften on his face, his wings dropping an inch lower behind him. His hands are still held out before you, still waiting. He's endlessly patient. His shadows seem to slow a bit, less frenzied.

"Yeah," He murmurs gently in response. His hazel eyes burn as they take in the sight of you again. "They got you pretty messed up. huh?”

You're sitting on your bed still, you realise. Blinking slow, you take an inhale, trying to put together how he got here— your eyes fly to the door. It's locked, this time with both deadbolts secured.

Azriel follows your gaze, turning his head slightly. "They're a good precaution. Don't be dissuaded that the spymaster of this court managed to get past them."

You wheeze again, some delirious laugh that gets cut off when pain splinters through your side. You groan lowly, unable to hold it in and your hand creeps slowly to paw at your side.

Faintly, you can feel the scrape of bandages on your skin, covering the wound, and sigh in relief. It makes your diaphragm sink down, the bindings around your chest shifting and that sends a frantic bolt of alarm through you once more.

“You—” The word scratches out your throat and you cough weakly. Every instinct starts to light back up, hackles rising— there has never been someone else around when you're too weak to defend yourself. It takes a moment with eyes closed and measured breaths to lean into your trust. You trust him, you know you do.

“You... patched me up?”

The question comes out wary and pointed despite your efforts. Though that might just be the gravel in your throat from having your face beaten in.

You don’t know how to covertly ask if he saw— if, that when he pushed your bloody shirt up to nurse the slash in your side, he noticed the gauze around your ribs.

It's an alien and terrifying thought, Azriel finding out. A worry deep in the marrow of your bones warbles in response, a thousand hairs standing up on end at the possibility.

How a revelation of that magnitude could sever the first trust you've had in years.

How it could lose... the first friend you've ever truly had.

A string of nausea tugs in your throat, bile threatening, and you have to swallow it down with the crippling fear that's been thrust into your system.

This is how it goes. The intrinsic balance of the world —to be gifted closeness and friendship, is to submit to the possibility of losing it.

Back against the wall, it settles into you very starkly, a thought sharp and clear; you do not want to lose him in any way.

Some part of you thinks he must see you as some kind of starving mutt, growing far too attached to the first hand that feeds it. But looking at him now, his shadowed face and kind expression, the depth of his eyes... you're convinced he sees something more to you.

And you want him to, desperately.

In a way you can't comprehend, can't begin to understand— how can you be so tied to someone you've known for so little? How can it hurt so much to be parted from him when you're barely friends? When he doesn't even know who you truly are.

Perhaps, you think, this is what all friends are like. You wouldn't know, you haven't had any before.

Azriel nods mutely, a strand of his dark hair falling over his forehead. He seems to be considering his words carefully and you take the moment to steal a few deep breaths.

When he speaks, his voice is softer than you’ve ever heard. "I understand that might be... crossing a line. But—" A waver in his voice. "— but I could smell the blood from out in the storm."

There's something left unsaid in his sentence, his tone clipped. Whatever it is, you're far too tired to discern it. Your body, overwhelmed with tension, abruptly loosens as the perceived threat of danger seeps away. It drains you, a sudden wave of tiredness cresting upon you— because you know, undoubtedly, you're safe now.

Not quite meaning to but unable to stop yourself, you sink down and fall limply against your bed. Your wing curls over you defensively, a blanket and shield all in one.

Azriel's hands finally lower, resting gently atop his thick thighs. His shadows dim their chaotic activity, almost lazy with how they whirl about his neck and shoulders. You wonder absentmindedly what they feel like against his skin.

Looking back at his face, you find his eyes haven't broken their watchful gaze on you— intense enough to stir up an unfamiliar warmth within your chest. You avoid it and his eyes, your tired eyes catch sight of something behind him.

"You brought...?" You can't quite finish your sentence, a vicious shiver wracking your frame, making you curl up closer. Tiredness chases it, the threat of sleep looming closer and closer.

Your eyes close without meaning. In the darkness, Azriel's voice swims before you, muted and far away.

"You have to get better before I can give it to you." His voice has dropped to a whisper. It makes your lips twitch in an attempt of a smile. It's funny, hearing a legendary Illyrian warrior like him whispering.

"Okay," You might say back— though you're not sure if it sounds like a word at all.

It doesn't matter. You're already asleep.

—

tags <3

@strangerstilinski @janebirkln @itsswritten @mischiefmanagers @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @idkitsem @illyrianbitch @jeweline16 @fightmedraco @iamjimintrash @maeandering @spideytingley @aneekapaneeka @cassianswh0reeee @viciane @astarlitsoul @mybestfriendmademe @archiveofcravings @reputaytionn-13 @bionic-donut @chessebookgirl @itseightbeats @littleblackcatinwonderland @twsssmlmaa @fanworrior @skysayhi @vintageoldfashion @tequilya @fabulouslyflamboyant5

#azriel #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel shadowsinger x you #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #whom the shadows sing for #whom the shadows sing for (and the thief’s echoing hymn)#OKURRRR #LETS GO #I HAVE TO LEAVE FOR WORK IN 10 MINS SO IM JUST POSTING #if theres things wrong with it.... well ill deal w that later #enjoy! <3

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vernons-girl · 2 months

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Hiii~

I just read your few works and i’m obsessed~ would you mind writing mingyu and dino which who both like female reader but she only choose one? With slight suggestive hehe thanks🩷

she chose me | kim mingyu & lee dino (college!au)

fluff, suggestive at the end (!! making out and dry humping!!) ( sorry i got carried away)),w.c:1k1

a/n: i wrote this not really knowing where it was going but i hope you'll like it nonetheless 🫶🏻

In their university, Mingyu and Dino were known for their contrasting personalities. Mingyu, with his tall stature and gentle demeanor, exuded a charm that drew people in effortlessly. Dino, on the other hand, was the epitome of energy, his infectious laughter filling every room he entered.

However, it did not stop you from forming a wonderful bond with the two men, the three of you quickly becoming really good friends.

But as your bond grew stronger, so did their feelings for you.

But you didn't know that yet.

And so they found themselves caught in an unspoken rivalry. Mingyu would cook for you, open doors, get your chair, hold your umbrella, truly the epitome of a gentleman, while Dino would always go out of his way to make you laugh with even the most far fetched jokes.

Unbeknownst to them, you cherished their gestures of affection, secretly very much enjoying the attention they showered you with. But as the days turned into weeks, you realized that your heart was torn. Your feelings confused you. Were the two men just really good friends? Was there something more ? If so, with who ? You couldn't tell.

But as you found yourself alone with Mingyu and Dino one fateful afternoon, the tension between them palpable, you struggled to find the words to express your feelings.

"I... I have something to tell you both," you began, your voice barely above a whisper. "I value our friendship more than anything, I'm sure you both know that. But I can't shake the feeling that something feels.. I don’t know.. different?" Mingyu and Dino exchanged a knowing glance, their expressions a mixture of hope and fear.

"And what do you mean by that?" Dino inquired, a glimpse of hope in his eyes. Mingyu watched you intently, awaiting your answer.

"I feel like there are more than just friendly feelings involved, you know?" you said, now slightly unsure of yourself.

"On who's part?" Dino asked immediately.

"Everyone's." you said confidently.

Mingyu hummed, crossing his arms over his chest in thought while Dino looked like a kid in a candy store.

"Do you - I mean do any of you guys like me?" you asked, now feeling weirdly uncomfortable.

“Yes." both of them replied at the same time, looking straight at you.

"Oh.." you let out.

Did you expect this ? Not really.

Did it make it hard for you ? Definitely.

"You don't have to give anyone an answer now, you can take your time." Mingyu reassured, "That is if you like any of us." Dino agreed with a nod, although he looked a bit disappointed at the prospect of having to wait to find out who you would choose.

"We'll be here for you, no matter what you decide." Mingyu finally said.

Weeks passed since that day, and you found yourself spending more time with both Mingyu and Dino. Yet, despite their unwavering support and seemingly endless patience, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were leaning towards one of them.

Everything became clear one evening as you were working on a school project with him.

Sitting at the same desk, the feeling of his thigh brushing against yours had your heart pounding in your chest, the hand holding your pen tightening.

"Are you okay?" he asked, pulling you out of your trance, his hand now placed on your thigh, squeezing the flesh softly.

The action made your face heat up instantly as you stumbled over your own words :

“Um, yeah, it’s just - I was thinking.” you said.

He hummed, his face tilting and inching closer to yours, his hand still on your thigh.

“About what?” he asked, his breath hitting your lips.

“You.” you breathed out, nervousness obvious in your voice.

“Oh yeah?” he replied, a smirk apparent on his features.

You nodded, your hand covering yours on your thigh.

“What else?” he teased.

Your lips were now merely a few inches away as you whispered, “I thought about you kissing me.”

“May I?” he asked, his other hand reaching out for your face as he delicately placed his warm palm against your cheek.

“Yes.” you simply said.

And that is all he needed to lean in even closer and finally close the gap between the two of you before kissing you with fervor, all his feelings being poured out into the kiss after waiting so long for this. To finally have you.

You kissed him back with just the same enthusiasm, your arms sneaking to wrap around his neck.

He swiftly moved you from the chair next to him onto his lap, making the whole thing easier for the both of you.

One of your hands found its way in his hair, slightly pulling at the roots, showing your excitement.

The situation escalated quickly, you thought. But you couldn’t care less. It felt right. It felt good.

As your lips parted, a rush of emotions flooded through you, mingling with the warmth of his touch. His eyes, filled with adoration, met yours, and in that moment, you knew you had made the right choice. It wasn't just about the physical attraction or the excitement of the moment; it was about the connection you shared, the way he made you feel understood and cherished.

"I've been wanting to do that for so long," he whispered in between kisses.

You couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. "Me too," you confessed.

You had thought about what it would feel like to be in this situation with Mingyu, but this was so much better than what your mind had made you think.

His touch made your skin burn, his hand traveled down your top to caresse the soft skin there while he slipped his tongue past your parted lips, eluding a moan from you.

The kiss was messy yet passionate, the occasional pants and moans coming from the both of you.

You didn’t think you guys could get any closer than this as the one hand of his that was holding your face moved to your hips, pressing you down onto him even more.

Mindlessly, you started moving against him, a moan resonating from the back of his throat at your action.

“Fuck, he panted, do it again.” and so you did.

You felt hot, not only because well, everything about this was, but because of him.

It made you feel so good.

You two finally took a moment to catch your breath and well, cool down.

You melted in his embrace as he rubbed his hand up and down your back.

He broke the silence first :

“Are you gonna tell him?” he asked.

“Yes I will.” you reply between pants.

“What will you say?” he urged.“That I choose you, Mingyu.” you finally said, all doubts now gone from your mind as the man below you smirked in triumph, knowing he was the one you chose.

#seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #mingyu #mingyu imagines #mingyu scenarios #mingyu x reader #dino #dino imagines #dino scenarios #dino x reader

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peachyloveswriting · 1 year

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Hello there!

I have a Trigun Stampede, Millions Knives x female plant reader request, pretty please.

(If it interests you, is not too much trouble, and if you have the time, of course.)

Millions Knives x female plant reader, who was captured by humans via some obscure old technology. She can heal via her blood, which the humans frequently harvest from her without her consent, leaving her with many scars from needles, surgical equipment, etc, and she has the darkest bags under her eyes and just exudes utter exhaustion.

Knives was just doing his usual thing, stalking after his brother and blowing through yet another town in the process, when he accidentally stumbles upon her in her cage as the humans attempt to take her with them as they run. The humans here refer to her as “it” and a “tool,” and Knives is enraged.

He saves her, freeing her from her cage and soothing her? I’d love to see him discover her in her cage, and his reaction to how the humans treat her, and how he helps her heal after saving her?

From cages to tubes -- (Knives)

Summary: Knives comes across another plant locked away in a facility, tortured and used by humans.

Knives next target was supposed to be the city of May, he'd gone through every bit of information before he ever even stepped foot inside that town. Yet something stopped him in his tracks anyways.

A plant testing facility?

He'd never heard of such a thing.

Staring at the grey metal door, he contemplated his actions for just a moment, wondering what he might find inside. Hopefully this was the jackpot, where he would find multiple plants in one space. The possibilities were too endless...

Screams erupt from inside, his metal tendrils ripping the door off its hinges as he steps through. The place is dark and nasty, humans scatter their hands reaching for their radios and voices frantic.

"Code 10! Code 10! Grab it, we can't leave it behind!"

It? Curious, Knives continued forward, killing any human along the way, coating the floor and walls with blood. He began to notice that the further he traveled in the more strange this place became. Lining the walls were plants in their tanks, each one with a pad of vitals beside it. Each one was labeled with the word experiment and they were all dead.

Something was off about this place, really off. He had to know more.

Travelling further in, Knives found what seemed like a central hub. Hundreds of people were rushing around, bodies falling to the floor in seconds. He didn't even bat an eye at the people trying to harm him, they caused him no problems. What caused him inner turmoil was this "it." He kept hearing about. It was a tool, he'd heard. It just wasn't sitting right with him, like they were talking about a living thing, not an it or a tool.

Cleaning through the last of them, he finds the door they had been guarding. Tearing it off, he discards it and steps inside.

"C'mon. Grab it! We can't let anyone get their hands on this!" A voice snaps.

Knives steps closer to the voice, his eyes sharp and narrowing. "Why not?" His voice is smooth, scarily so.

The man shouting orders snaps his head around to look up at Knives in fear, his body trembling. Whimpers fall from his lips as Knives towers over him, his patience beginning to wear thin.

"Speak!" He tells with sudden malice.

Abruptly, there's a crash close by. Another voice screams out in pain, aloud sobs following after. Suddenly the man before him becomes an after thought and his body falls limply to the floor. Stepping past him, Knives comes up to another man, this one younger than the last.

He tugs frantically at a large cage, the outline of the crying voice is inside.

His blades slice through the last human as he lowers himself to peer inside the cage. The form shakes and trembles inside but he can't seem to get a good look. Taking the top of the cage he sets it upright from being knocked to its side.

Light suddenly illuminates the figure inside, the intricate patterns of his kind flowing all along its body, littered by cuts and scars.

He feels breathless as he tears the cage open, frantically reaching for you. A call of pain cuts through the air as he grabs your wrist and you pull yourself away.

"My god. What have they done to you?" He mutters. You look over at him, trembling in fear.

"It's okay. I'm just like you." He slowly extends his hand to you as an offer. "I'll take you away from here where you'll never be hurt again. I promise."

He watches your gaze softly flicker between his face and his hand, before you tenderly rest your hand in his. "That's right." He says, softly pulling you from the cage. "Come with me. I'll make you good again."

Carefully scooping your frail body into his arms, he begins to make his way out of the facility, disappointed that he has no one to take his anger out on.

As he walks away, he looks down at you. "My name is Knives, you'll be answering too me from now on."

—⁠☆

"How are you feeling?"

You gaze down at Knives through the glass, your hands coming to rest up against it. "Better than before."

He smiles, crossing his arms over his chest. "Good. Staying there for a week should get you back to normal." He casts his gaze to a shorter, mostly bald, human. "Con'rad will monitor your vitals and 'keep you company'. I'll be gone often but expect to see me a lot."

You give him a nod. "So, what exactly is this... Thing?"

You look up at where the cords attach then connect to your body.

"I'll explain that." Con'rad starts. "The tube you're in is filled with a liquid that should allow your body to fuller regather itself. Typically we use these to manufacture independents however these can also be used for purposes much like this. The process is quick and you'll be in a sleep-like state until you fully recover."

Knives nods. "In short, it heals you."

"Oh, okay." You take a moment to collect your thoughts before you meet Knives' gaze. "Thank you for saving me."

It almost looks like his stoicism face softens before he speaks. "Of course. I'll do whatever I can to save my people."

#knives millions #millions knives x you #millions knives x reader #knives x reader #millions knives #trigun x reader #trigun stampede x reader

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steveharrington · 1 month

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if any of you have phone call anxiety let me just tell you this, as a customer service rep who answers phone calls most of the day: as long as you’re polite, the majority of customer service reps will not judge you. we deal with so many people who are rude and angry on a daily basis that someone simply being friendly will make me 100% on their side. it doesn’t matter if you stumble over your words, it doesn’t matter if you’re asking a “silly question”, it doesn’t matter if you don’t really know how to articulate the question. i have endless patience for anyone who is nice. (also i get a sec to breathe and take a sip of water while you search for your pin number or ID so don’t even apologize for that). you will ALWAYS be appreciated by a customer service rep if you’re just nice and say thank you like that’s all you need to do

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peachesofteal · 1 year

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The Fragile Ones

Relationship: Morpheus/reader One shot - 1.1k words Warnings: Character death, pregnant reader, tragic death, No HEA, hurt no comfort Endless aren't meant to love such fragile things.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, you think. Or maybe it was, maybe it was all part of the plan, and everything was falling right into place. You weren’t sure. You weren’t really sure of anything, actually. You could vaguely hear people shouting. The sun was high in the sky, beating down on you, dancing across your skin that felt unusually cold. What were you doing? You weren’t sure of that either. Someone was talking to you, leaning over your body and blocking out the sun. The back of your head kind of hurt, but for some reason you couldn’t lift your arm to rub the sore spot. Your arm laid limply on your swollen stomach, where your child slept. Your child. The appointment. That’s what it was, you had an appointment. A 20-week ultrasound, you were going to see your baby. What’s happened? Your mind is fuzzy, frozen in a time loop as you stumbled over everything in your mind. “Asshole drove off.” Someone said behind you.

“Everything’s going to be okay, 911 is coming.” That was a stranger’s voice. There was a stranger speaking to you. Why? You tried to turn your head to look at them but were met with a chorus of rejections.

“Try not to move.” Your brain suddenly roars to life and your breath catches as pain radiates through your body. Your child. The appointment. The car. You hadn’t seen it, you remember now. You had been in a crosswalk, weren’t crosswalks safe? It had come around the corner so fast, you’re not sure you could even tell someone what color it was. You moved your other hand, the working one, to cradle your belly. You tapped, just barely. Move. Please, move. Your stomach was still. Quiet, like maybe your baby was still sleeping. She did that a lot, in the middle of the day. She was a night owl, staying up so she could listen to her father read sonnets to her inside your womb.

“Dream.” You croak, to no one. To none of these strangers who have any idea who you’re calling out to. “M-Morpheus. Dream of the Endless.” You try again. Your tongue wets your lips, and you taste blood. Salt, and metal. It makes your head spin. You were cold, and it was July. A hot, sticky day in July. The kind of day where popsicles melted if you didn’t eat them fast enough, where the air was heavy like a wet blanket. You shouldn’t be cold. The feeling wraps it's icy fist around your throat. You think you can feel the earth tilting. You're dying. You see the flicker of a black coat out of the corner of your eye and a sob shakes your chest. He’s here.

His eyes are wild. You’re not sure what’s happened to the strangers, but their voices have all but fallen away. He leans over you, fingers grasping your chin as he speaks your name, once, twice, and then a third. You try to crack your lips into a smile.

“Hello handsome.” You manage to string the two words together that you used when you tried to pick him up at The New Inn. A lightweight, emboldened by a recent breakup, you had sauntered over to where he sat with Hob and offered to buy him a drink. He had looked taken aback by your presence. Offended almost. Hob likes to joke now that it was love at first sight, but you knew better. You and Dream’s relationship grew, over time, with patience, and a lot of miscommunications. You had been infatuated with each other from the start, sure. But you had been seeing each other for nearly six months before he told you who he actually was, and even then, he only gave you half the story.

“I’m here.” He’s frantically looking around. “I’m right here.”

“It hurts.” You try to explain.

“I know, I know it does. It will be alright. You will both be okay.”

“She’s sleeping.” You whisper to him, your fingers desperately trying to grasp onto his jacket. The tears in his eyes are falling down onto your neck. He makes a choked sound, horrific to your ears, it’s wet and guttural and pained. One of his hands desperately presses to your belly, clutching onto you while the other strokes hair from your face. He’s so beautiful, you muse. How can something be so beautiful?

“Yes.” He tells you, and his lips tremble against your forehead. “She is sleeping.”

“I hope she’s warmer than me.” You mumble.

“She’s very warm. You’ve kept her safe, and warm, and she cannot wait to meet you. Her mother.”

“D’ you, you think she looks like you?” His eyes squeeze shut. Your vision is kind of blurry, but you think his face is wet. He makes a pained sound in his throat.

“No, my love. I think she looks like you, I think she will be just as beautiful as you.”

“I still want to name her Ophelia.” His hand blankets yours overtop your belly.

“Ophelia is perfect.”

“You lie. You hated it, last time.” Your face feels wet too, you realize. Are you crying? “Dream. I can’t… I can’t really feel.” The words are sticky on your tongue, like they’re having trouble forming.

“That’s okay. Keep your eyes open. I’m going to take you home.” His voice has an edge of determination to it and you wonder what he means. Surely, you’re dying, aren’t you? And you’re definitely not asleep. How could he get you to The Dreaming? You see his sister over his shoulder. You’ve always thought she had the kindest face. You’ve always wondered, how it must feel to see her and know. Turns out, it’s not so terrible. Dream whirls, still crouched, his body creating a physical barrier between the two of you.

“No.” his voice snaps like a whip. Her façade cracks, and she kneels beside him when he turns back to you.

“I’m so sorry, little brother.”

“No. No, please.” His hand is iron around yours, like a tether, a chain to him and this realm.

“I love you.” Your hand tries to find his.

“No. I do not accept this.” His eyes light with rage as he hisses at Death. Her eyes close as she shakes her head. “Please. Please, sister.”

“Dream. There is nothing I can do.”

“Let me bring them into The Dreaming.”

“It’s too late, you know this.” He covers your body with his, face pressed into your cheek.

“I love you.” You tell him again, watching as he pulls back to look at you. He strokes your cheeks with his thumbs.

“I love you, my sweet girl. I will see you again. Both of you.” His lips press to yours desperately as you feel another hand take yours. She’s ready for you. His soft caress is the last thing you feel as your soul severs from your body, holding Death’s hand as you walk together into the dark.

#morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman fanfic #dream x reader #peaches writes

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aralezinspace · 1 year

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Heyyy I saw you were taking requests so may I request a Morpheus x reader from Sandman? Where they are something like friends and he has a secret crush on reader, but then sees reader kissing another guy at a party and gets jealous?

Sandcastle

A/N: This was harder to write than I thought it would be, but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. Hope you enjoy, thanks for sending it in!

Morpheus clenched his hands in his pockets. Friends visited each other “just because,” you had said. He treasured your friendship, your company. The Dream Lord would never admit it- except under duress, and maybe not even then- he had begun to view you as more than a friend. His hand tingled whenever you held it in yours, the breaths he didn’t need to take got caught in his chest when he saw you.

And that was how he found himself outside a somewhat upscale nightclub, dreading the idea of wading through the people and loud music to find you. He could be patient, he could wait across the street until you left. Being under the open sky was much preferred over being packed into a loud, grimy room like sardines.

It only took about an hour for his patience to pay off. The club’s side door opened and you stumbled out, closely followed by a lean and lanky man about your height. Dream vaguely recognized him, one of your friends from… somewhere. He did remember that this was one of your oldest friends. The two of you were laughing, boisterous and carefree. Clearly, you hadn’t noticed the Endless watching your every move with a besotted smirk on his face.

The two of you chatted with each other in the alley, hanging onto each other in your laughter. After a few moments, the two of you straightened up and leaned on the brick wall, breathing heavily. Your friend said something that Morpheus couldn’t make out, but whatever it was had you beaming widely. Still smiling, you rolled your eyes, stood on your toes, and pressed a firm, lingering kiss to his lips.

Morpheus could feel his insides writhe and churn, the shadows around him blending with the outline of his form. What was this sickening, rage-fueling pool in his gut? The two of you weren’t courting, you were free to see and kiss whomever you liked in the waking world. He wasn’t jealous, he was above such petty, shallow, human urges. But if not jealousy, what was the name for wishing he were the one you had blessed with your kiss?

Visiting you in the waking world had turned out to be a terrible idea. Frowning deeply, he vanished in a whirl of sand, reappearing in the Dreaming. Matthew was waiting for him, perched on his throne. “Hey boss!” he called, “How was Y/N?”

“I didn’t see them,” he grumbled, sinking down onto the steps and sulking. Matthew fluttered down and landed in front of him.

“Why not? Are they okay?” In clipped words, Morpheus explained what he had seen. Matthew’s head fell. “Oh jeez, I’m sorry boss.” A pause. “Why don’t you tell them how you feel?”

Morpheus’ head snapped up to glare at him incredulously. Matthew flinched, but continued. “Who knows, maybe they feel the same about you. And, if they don’t know how you feel, it’s not their fault you’re jealous. Does that make sense?”

“I’m not jealous,” the Dream Lord muttered, somewhat petulantly. “I was merely taken by surprise.”

Matthew gave him a raven’s version of the side eye. “No offense boss, yes you are. It’s because you like them, and want them to like you back. So what are you gonna do about it?”

Morpheus’ frown deepened. Matthew was right, the only way to possibly have your more romantic affections to himself was to openly court you, and hope you felt the same. He rose to his feet in one fluid motion and swept out of the throne room, a plan forming in his mind.

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

You found yourself in the Dreaming the night after the party, having been too inebriated the night before. After a few quick glances, you found the path to the palace and happily strode down it, hoping your brooding friend would have a few moments to spare with you.

The palace doors opened to welcome you as always, and you wandered towards the library. Before you could get there, you heard the flutter of wings and the cawing of a raven. Matthew landed on your shoulder and you gave his beak a little scritch.

“Hey Y/N, boss is waiting for you in the gardens.”

You veered left, heading down the path to the palace gardens. Sure enough, Dream was waiting for you on a stone bench. Matthew flew off when he stood up to greet you. “Hello Y/N.”

You gave him a cheery wave. “Matthew said you were looking for me, what’s up?”

The Nightmare King blinked once in a bit of a stupor. Now was his chance, he may not get another like it. You were right in front of him, shining in the sun and starlight of the Dreaming. Your eyes were slightly wider, expectant, waiting for an answer.

“Will you walk with me?” he asked, somewhat choked as he offered his hand. Your answering smile, along with your hand placed in his, made a tiny grin tug at the corner of his mouth.

The two of you chatted while you walked, comfortable and unhurried, as your conversations always went. Morpheus led you to the black sand beach where he worked, three half-finished dreams waiting for him. “I’m afraid I must finish some work. You are welcome to stay, if you like.”

You nodded and plopped down onto the sand, digging your fingers in deep. Both hands came back with a fistful of sand… why not make something of your own while Morpheus worked?

By the time he was satisfied with what he had accomplished, a small sand castle had been erected in front of you. It was just four different sized mounds around a central courtyard with details like windows traced with your finger- hardly one of the Dream Lord’s masterpieces, but you liked how it turned out, especially since you had no shovels or buckets.

A tender grin spread across his face when he saw what you made, and how you looked at it with the same kind of affection he had for the dreams he created. “It’s nothing special,” you said with a bashful laugh, rising and brushing the sand off your legs. “Was just fun to play in the sand.”

Morpheus stood next to you, admiring your structure. “It’s beautiful,” he murmured close to your ear, “As beautiful as its creator.” Your breath caught in your throat and a crimson blush heated your cheeks. You tucked a stray wisp of hair behind your ear, Morpheus’ fingers ghosting across the shell as they traced the same path.

He had been wrong before- this was his chance. He pressed a feather-light kiss to the apple of your cheek, his lips lingering half a breath longer than they should have. Your flush deepened, glowing hotter. “Morpheus?” you gasped, barely louder than a whisper of a sea breeze.

“Y/N,” he began somewhat haltingly, “I’m sure you’ve surmised by now that I care for you in a manner beyond friendship, and I would ask permission to openly court you.” His head hung, as if awaiting the decision of a jury.

“Court me?” you repeated, somewhat incredulous, “Like, going on dates?”

“Yes, if that is how you prefer to think of it.”

You felt a wide, exuberant grin split your face. “Yea, I’d like that very much.”

#The Sandman #The Sandman fanfic #morpheus x reader #Morpheus fanfic #my stuff

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impossiblesuitcase · 9 months

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what are your fave jacinter hcs post revolution? :)

Here's one:

A few years after the revolution, Jacin starts medical school on Earth. That means a lot of time away from Winter, which he doesn't like, but he still has time to comm her during class and see her during the day. She stays local to his university, working with the Lunar embassy there in public relations.

They're both happy over that time. Jacin finally, finally starts to lose a bit of his grumpiness, his performative apathy, returning to the more openly emotional man she knew before he became a guard. Even their friends are surprised at this less abrasive version of him, but he still remains pleasantly snarky.

They want to get married, of course. Except he's being flogged by exams, and planning a wedding would take a lot of time and energy and he wants to give Winter the full attention and support she deserves. They agree to wait until there's a lull in his studies before that.

Then he starts his residency. He's working 12 hour shifts, with a 5 hour window for sleep, while still being on call. He gets breaks, sure, but he is flat out (Australian for busy). He sees Winter occasionally. Well, every day, but it's 5 minutes of a rushed meal and chatter and then he's off again. He hates it. She is generally frustrated by it. Still they both know it's where he should be right now, and he loves finally knowing how to help people, rather than just wishing he knew.

Six months in, Winter gets a comm while he's on a break:

Jacin: Winter, im sorry that im making you put up with this. you deserve to have the wedding that you dream of and a person who will be there for you always like i promised i would be. i dont deserve you.

Now another thing Jacin doesn't like--he isn't around to protect Winter. Sure, years have passed and she's more in control of her trauma and fears, but his peace of mind is never settled if she's not right next to him. So this residency period is hell for him. She spends a lot of time with their friends, sending him pics to assure him that she's with good company, regularly updating him on her wellbeing in what she calls 'sanity checks', a term he dislikes--"You're not insane."

So one day he's doing his final shift for the week when he receives this comm:

Winter: My darling Jacin. You mean everything to me. I need nothing more in life so long as you are in my arms, physically or in spirit. The walls bleed with you, my love, bleed water and diamonds and joy...

Walls. Bleeding?!

Jacin sprints out of the hospital. He tracks Winter's port, finding her just in the park on the next block. He's panting and stumbling when he finds her by the lake. She's donning a summery white dress, which on her rivals any vogue bride, and is holding a flower crown in her hands. She's decidedly not screaming or sobbing like the last time he saw her mention bleeding walls.

"Love?" he garbles out, racing up to her.

Winter gestures for him to slow down. Once in arm's reach, she plops the crown on his greasy, unbrushed hair and steadies his shoulders with her grip. "My darling Jacin. You mean everything to me. I need nothing more in life so long as you are in my arms, physically or in spirit," she repeats, in what is evidently a rehearsed speech.

"Bleeding walls?" he interrupts harshly.

"Hush." She pulls him into her arms. "Jacin, you are everything I deserve. I never want you to question that for a moment. Never let those clinical lights and smell of antiseptic confuse your senses into believing that I wouldn't want you, just the way you are."

There's more words spoken, from him and her, and his bewilderment and worry is still not supplanted with relief. Yes, she might assure him of this now, but he'll be back to endless shifts, and her patience will run out.

"I don't want to wait until things are calmer," she confesses, "because I love you with how things are now as much as I would at any other time." She pulls away and reaches up, adjusting his crown. "The crown has a purpose, you know. I bet you just thought I brought it because I'm crazy."

"You're not crazy."

She closes an eye. "You thought my message was crazy."

He's silent, because yes, he did.

"Once upon a time, I was a princess. So if I marry a boy, he becomes a prince. We aren't married yet, but I declare that we should make a promise first." She leans up and kisses him quickly. "There. That will suffice until the wedding. And this"--she gestures to the crown--"gives you your title."

"Title?"

"My prince. My knight and best friend. Until I change that to something else."

"Fiancé?"

"I was thinking husband."

He kisses her. Then he spends the next month in comms with his supervisor. He wrangles a 5-month break out of them, but he has to work 6 months first. During that time of work, he proposes, and now that he's more established in his residency, his hours drop. He does have time for wedding planning, and they wed the first week of that break. It's a busy few newlywed years, but it quiets down once he's out of his residency. He's still protective, yes, but he doesn't need to be by her side constantly anymore to be calm. He does not want to be known as a prince, even when Cinder and Kai joke that they'll make him one against his will.

He never protests when Winter calls him her prince.

#you asked for headcanons #and i have none #so i made just one #its nothing against jacinter #just marissa paid them very little attention #so i have a lot less material to work with #the lunar chronicles #tlc #lunar chronicles #jacinter #winter hayle blackburn #jacin clay

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rphelperblog · 2 years

Text

X-men Quotes Rp Meme

{part one}

inspired by @legman-lensherr @abrushwithdeath

“The next time you feel like showing off...don’t.”

"Mankind has always feared what it doesn't understand."

“We need you to hope again.”

please do not make us the enemy today.”

"My emotions make me strong."

“You are a perceptive one.”

“I think you'll be comfortable here.”

“ Is that your gift? Putting up with that guy?”

"Just because someone stumbles and loses their way doesn't mean they're lost forever."

“You’ll need me too.”

“If you let them have me, I'm as good as dead. You know that.”

“Look kid, you and I are gonna be good friends.”

It's not him I'm worried about. It's us. We were younger, more brash. We didn't know any better.”

“We are all gonna die sometime.”

"Just because someone stumbles and loses their path, doesn't mean they are lost forever."

“Good to see you, old friend.”

So many battles waged over the years... and yet, none like this. Are we destined to destroy each other, or can we change each other and unite? Is the future truly set?”

“Well then I'll kill them too, and anyone who comes next!”

"Don't be what they made you."

“ I'm just not very good with violence...”

“So, you always were an asshole.”

“Someone so beautiful should not be so angry.”

"You have the chance to become part of something much bigger than yourself."

“I think I want to wake up now.”

Go upstairs and bug your sister.”

"I always know who you are. It's just sometimes I don't recognize you."

“Are you drinking to forget?”

I don't know karate. But I know crazy.”

“No, I’m drinking to remember.”

“I'm her boyfriend.”

“When an individual acquires great power, the use or misuse of that power is everything, will it be used for the greater good or will it be used for personal or destructive ends? Now this is a question we must all ask ourselves. Why? Because we are mutants.”

"Listen to me very carefully, my friend. killing him will not bring you peace."

Listen to me, you piece of shit! I watched a lot of good people die, and I came back to stop that from happening!”

“I didn’t kill the president.”

if you kill him, there'll be ten more like him.”

YOUR cause. The girl I raised, she was not capable of killing.”

This is what life looks like. a home, people who love each other. safe place. You should take a moment and feel it."

“Just because someone stumbles and loses their path, doesn't mean they're lost forever.”

I'm a princess. What are you?”

“Prison break? That's illegal, you know?”

“It’s only illegal if you get caught.”

“We have fifteen seconds before the door open, and then guards will come through that door.”

Patience isn't my strongest suit.”

“You're a cold murderous bitch!”

You're like me. You're a survivor.”

I'll do it, to save her. Not for your future whatever.”

So much for being a survivor.”

“You want to make a statement? Kill me, fine! But spare everyone else!”

“Should be fun. I'm holding you so you won't get whiplash.”

“The past: a new and uncertain world. A world of endless possibilities and infinite outcomes. Countless choices define our fate: each choice, each moment, a moment in the ripple of time. Enough ripple, and you change the tide... for the future is never truly set.”

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls! This is a code red situation! We are evacuating the entire floor, so that we - my, uh”

"There's so much more to you than you know, not just pain and anger. There's good in you too, and you can harness all that. You have a power that no one can match, not even me."

You're on acid... somebody gave you really bad acid...”

“You know, my mom once knew a guy who could do that.”

All right, you've piqued my interest. What do you want?”

“ All those years wasted fighting each other, ... to have a precious few of them back.”

Sentinels that transform. Can you imagine the possibilities?”

I spent a lot of years trying to bring you down, bub.”

I take it we're best buddies in the future?”

No... I don't want your suffering, I don't want your future!”

“ I probably shouldn't be asking this sort of thing... but in the future, do I make it?”

“Get off the bloody chandelier,”

Look past my future... Look for YOUR future... That's it...”

“She left because you got inside her head.”

“You didn't raise her. You grew up with her. She couldn't stay a little girl forever. That's why she left.”

“Which makes it slightly that you managed to miss our sign on the way in. This is private property, my friend...”

So I wake up in my younger body, God knows where, and then what?”

“Welcome to mutant high.”

It's been a long time since we were this close. I missed you.”

So what's to stop me from killing YOU right now and securing MY future?”

Mine. I've seen their plans. They're creating a weapon, and now they have what they need to take it further. We have to strike now, while we still hold the upper hand.”

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sitp-recs · 2 years

Note

you’re the charon of the drarry fandom, wherein all of us misguided souls stumble upon the endless multiverse that is drarry and the fortunate ones discover your incredible blog as you slowly pile us within your boat of tenderness and patience and ease us within the vast universe one fic at a time, charging no fee at all. your patronage isn’t limited to the wankbank, it extends to every aspect of this fandom and much more and i believe people should really admire the gods’ work that wonderful reccers or ex reccers such as yourself bestow upon us pitiful mortals who hold no knowledge of how to navigate through these waters. you’re our compass and guide and teach us most things we need to know before we attempt to wade through the murky waters of the fandom; and when we do and stay afloat, it’s all thanks to incredible people such as yourself. liv, you are one of the many patron saints of this fandom itself.

My god anon, you came for my soul with this ask, it caught me completely off guard and I’m a proper mess! It took me ages to reply because after reading it about 268204791 times I just couldn’t come up with something equally beautiful or even coherent (still can’t tbh, but I’ve had a miserable day at work and seeing this in my drafts made me feel so much better). I have no words other than THANK YOU for your kindness and generosity. Before being a reccer I’m a proud and passionate reader, and I’m so genuinely happy to be part of this community. On my worst days I get this ugly feeling that I’ll never truly feel like I belong, will never get to share the kind of camaraderie authors so easily share among them. But then I get messages like yours, so full of love and appreciation, and it reminds me that I’m doing something good, that matters to so many people. This makes me feel like I truly belong. Thank you 💜

#asks #anon #cheer up tag

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starry-skies-116 · 2 years

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MORE GREGORY VOICELINES SKULL EMOJI:

“Here’s a tip for being prepared for anything- you need to know your enemy inside and out. It’s not just about your own skillset, teamwork and planning, though that matters a lot too. Every strength, every weakness, their goals and motivations, their emotional responses, their history of successes and failures, their actions and reactions to every situation they’re in… you need to know those things like the back of your own hand to come up with the simplest, quickest and most unpredictable counterattacks and solutions, before crushing them and finishing them off. Being as prepared as possible for every single person or situation you’re up against is practically a recipe for certain victory!”

“I know sometimes it’s necessary, and that people always scold me for saying such things, but I just can’t seem to understand negotiation and diplomacy. Spending hours upon hours, fighting back and forth, back and forth to come to some complicated conclusion with an endless list of terms and conditions for both sides to agree with, just so they can both be satisfied… why would I ever bother myself with such boring busywork? In fact, why would anyone like talking things out when the discussion gets nowhere? Just solve the problem at its source- get things done, something done, for all I care! I, for one, have plans of my own, and don’t ever want to waste my energy on participating in such pointless discussions just to please other people and get benefits that don’t even help me in taking what’s rightfully mine- consider me ENTIRELY unconvinced, no sir.”

“Though people are different… I suppose it’s okay to work together every now and then. I do struggle with doing things with other people, though- especially other kids… it’s a surprise they ever show patience to someone like me at all: after all, I can be a bit… difficult, to deal with. Unlikeable, even, to some. I’m told so often. Knowing that my dedication, hard work and intelligence is valued and respected by other people will put a smile on my face, I’ll say that much. I don’t like being treated like a child and nothing more by those around me, and I REALLY hate it when others only see the worst in me, because I was treated the exact same way by everyone one time. That seems so long ago, now… never again will I go back to those days where I never got the kindness and respect I deserved.”

“I don’t regret the things I’ve done to grow closer to accomplishing my mission. I regret the stupid mistakes I’ve stumbled over, the occasional errors in judgement I’ve made, while doing these things. They don’t always make themselves obvious, but they’re still there. Always there. Were I wary enough to avoid them altogether when I still had the chance, it would’ve saved me so much time. Ah- it doesn’t matter now. I can’t feel any shame if I can keep moving forward. After all, good things may come to those who wait, but better things come to those who go out and get them.”

“There are two kinds of people in this world- those who want to get things done and reach their potential, and those who are scared to death of making mistakes. I used to be the second one, but now I’m mostly the first. See? Real proof that people can always change, and the term ‘two-faced’ doesn’t really exist.”

***

(to himself at Montgomery Gator, during the events of Security Breach): “Excuse me? How dare you underestimate me so shamelessly!”

(to himself at the hostile Glamrock Animatronics, during the events of Security Breach): “I’ve no time to waste on the likes of you… I’ll just crush you under my feet as quickly as I can, then.”

(at the hostile Glamrock Animatronics, during the events of Security Breach): “Hmph. Fine, then: I’ll teach you to waste my time like this!”

(to Vanny/Vanessa): “Elizabeth Dean-Afton. I didn’t recognize you until now, but that doesn’t matter. Explain yourself. Now.”

(to Glitchtrap): “Hmph. What use are words anymore? We’ve both set off on our own paths a long time ago.”

(to Vanny/Vanessa): “I don’t get why you don’t understand- it’s just basic theory of strategy. And you all said I’m the idiot with no common sense…”

(to Glamrock Freddy): “Please don’t try to treat me like I’m some helpless little child. I’m more than capable- I can protect myself well enough.”

(to Glamrock Freddy): “What? Come now, don’t look at me like that, I was just trying to rally your fighting spirits!”

(to himself): “This will be a great opportunity to test what I’ve learned over the years… and to show off the results of my hard work. Hah, after all, it is well deserved.”

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seijorhi · 3 years

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Inexorable ♕

My birthday present for my beloved wife @iwaasfairy and my contribution to her birthday bash collab you can find here. I love you, you’re incredible and I hope you like this i even wrote smut for you smh

Iwaizumi Hajime x female reader

tw: dub-con, stalking, unhealthy relationships, very questionable decision making, smut, nsfw, um... implied murder?

He’s sitting on the steps outside your apartment when you get home from work, a lit cigarette dangling between long fingers. He brings it to his lips, the bright cherry red tip glowing as he takes a nice, slow drag and you scurry on past.

Not a word passes between the two of you, but olive eyes follow you up the stairs regardless, just like always. His name is Iwaizumi – Iwa – but you only know that because you’ve heard his friends yelling it down the hallway. In the three months since you’ve moved in, you haven’t so much as introduced yourself to the guy, but like most strangers crammed into the same shitty place there’s some kind of a routine between the two of you.

Why he religiously chooses this time of night to take his smoke break is beyond you, but like clockwork you’ll arrive home, having walked back from the bus stop and Iwaizumi’ll be there waiting for you, cigarette in hand.

Well, not waiting, just… there. Black leather jacket with a hoodie underneath, there’s a cut above his eyebrow tonight that he hasn’t bothered to clean, a purpling bruise colouring his jaw. Whatever dealings Iwaizumi’s tangled up in, you don’t like to think about too much, but you know it can’t be anything good. His friends dress like him, all have the same ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibe. You’ve seen their scrapes and bruises too – the weapons that stick out from the waistband of their pants – though you’re always quick to avert your eyes when they catch you staring.

You’ve heard them snickering about it when you hastily dart past, all but slamming your front door shut.

And it’s not that you’re scared of him. There are people who play at being dangerous, and ones who are. Iwaizumi doesn’t strike you as somebody who enjoys playing, and while you don’t doubt for a second that he is dangerous, he isn’t to you. He wouldn’t go out of his way to hurt or scare you – you’re not even a blip on his radar – but what Iwaizumi is, at least as far as you’re concerned, the reason your step quickens and you can’t bear to meet his eyes, is intimidating.

Tall and broad shouldered, with those piercing green eyes. You’ve only seen him smile once, though it was more a quirking of his lips than anything else – usually he just stares, his expression halfway between impassive boredom and a scowl.

No, Iwaizumi doesn’t scare you nearly as much as the bouquet of flowers you find sitting on your doorstep, a handwritten note tucked in between the roses.

—

The calls come next. You block one number and he rings from another, followed by endless texts. Cute little messages you suppose are meant to brighten up your day.

Hi baby, love the skirt you’re wearing today. You know blue’s my favourite on you, always look so damn pretty. It’s like you’re trying to drive me crazy haha

Morning babe, I was thinking about you last night. You remember that trip we always said we were gonna take in the summer down to the lake? I can’t wait to bring you there.

Why won’t you answer my calls? I just wanna talk to you, hear your voice again. Let me make things right. I love you.

Don’t you miss me? I miss you. So, so much… You look beautiful today, by the way.

Baby, I love you, but you really shouldn’t be staying out so late with your coworkers for drinks. I just want you to be safe.

They’re not all soft and sweet though. Sometimes he just sends you pictures, and those creep you out most of all.

You change your number, and it doesn’t make a difference.

—

It’s hard for you to try and convince yourself that you’re imagining the prickling sensation on the back of your neck as you go about your day. You know he’s watching you – the messages and the voicemails just drive that home, but what else are you supposed to do?

You can’t just pack up and run again, and what good is a restraining order when you have no proof he’s violating it – and by the time you do, it probably won’t help you.

Kazuma’s always had patience, but only up to a point.

The final nail comes the day you arrive home to find one of Iwa’s friends heading out from his apartment – the tallest, with the curly dark hair. Barely spares you a glance until he seems to think better of it.

“Didn’t realise you had a boyfriend, sweetheart.”

He says it so casually, but the words make you falter, a sinking feeling in your stomach. “What do you mean?”

And for a moment, he looks half surprised that you’ve bothered to reply – so far you’ve done nothing but pretend to ignore him and Iwa and every last one of their friends. But the mirth slips from his expression quickly enough once he gets a good look at yours, “Blonde guy with a shitty dye job, tall-ish. Saw him leaving your apartment an hour ago.”

But to walk out of your apartment, he had to have first gotten into it.

“Guessing he wasn’t your boyfriend then,” he says, eyeing you with an odd look. But you don’t respond and after a short pause, he simply shrugs and continues on his way.

You couldn’t care less.

Kazuma was in your apartment.

Leaving flowers at your doorstep is one thing, but now he has a key.

And it feels like there’s somebody else moving your body as you stumble towards your apartment, your hand shaking so badly that you fumble and drop your own keys twice before you finally manage to slide them home and push your way inside.

It’s waiting for you inside your bedroom, sitting atop your pillow; a pretty blue box wrapped with white ribbon.

Your phone flashes to life a minute later; an incoming message from an unknown number.

Did you like your present, baby?? I hope you don’t mind, I kinda borrowed a little something too…

With your heart in your throat you watch those three bouncing dots as the image comes through.

A pair of red lace panties – yours – scrunched up in his fist, wrapped around his–

Your stomach heaves, and you barely make it to the bathroom in time before you’re hurling your guts up.

—

You’ve always had an impulsive side, and more often than not it’s landed you into trouble.

So you force yourself to calm down and think before you do anything rash. You head to the police station the very next morning to file a report, fresh off a sleepless night. The officer seems sympathetic, but you know before she even opens her mouth that there’s nothing they can do.

There’s no proof of a crime committed; nothing was taken (nothing you can prove, at any rate) and because your door wasn’t tampered with and the windows weren’t smashed, there’s no evidence of a break in. She suggests changing your locks and going to stay with some friends or family for a few days and you don’t know whether you want to laugh or burst into tears.

And instead of going back to work, you call in sick.

Iwaizumi isn’t sitting on the front steps when you get back home, and why would he be? You’re not supposed to be home for another few hours – so instead you head to his apartment door and mustering every last ounce of courage you possess, you raise your fist and knock.

Silence greets you.

You wait for a moment, a heartbeat, not daring to breathe, but there’s no answer. Which, really, shouldn’t be that surprising considering it’s mid-morning on a Tuesday, but you can’t help the crushing sense of disappointment that washes over you. The thought of trudging back to your apartment to sit and stew alone for the next few hours while you wait for him to come back makes your skin crawl. You can’t just sit still and twiddle your thumbs, not when–

Abruptly, the door in front of you swings open, and you find yourself face to face with a glaring Iwaizumi. His expression falters, momentary surprise flickering across his eyes at the sight of you standing in his doorway.

This time you don’t avert your eyes. Your heart’s pounding, your hands clammy and trembling by your side, but this is the only choice you have left. And so as a single eyebrow cocks and Iwa falls into a lean against the doorframe – the only invitation you’re gonna get – you steel your nerves, take a deep breath, and speak.

“I-I need a gun.”

To his credit, Iwaizumi doesn’t snort. “You planning on shooting somebody, princess?”

They’re the first words he’s ever spoken to you, and they make your cheeks burn, your stomach twisting into a knot. It’s not a dismissal, but there’s a tinge of amusement colouring his tone and you can’t help but wilt a little under the weight of his gaze.

Better sense would tell you to turn around, walk back to your apartment and curse your own idiocy for entertaining this stupid idea to begin with But Iwaizumi’s staring at you like he’s expecting an answer and all you can think about is the fear that gripped your heart last night, how you couldn’t bear to turn the light off, half terrified that at any moment Kazuma would come back – and this time he wouldn’t be satisfied with just some panties.

You can’t live like this, and you can’t just pack up your life and wait for the same thing to happen in the next place, and the one after that. Kazuma won’t stop, you know that.

“I…” you chew on your bottom lip, dropping your gaze so that you’re staring at his chest instead of those piercing green eyes. “I don’t, I-I’m not–”

“A killer?” he interjects, and you almost flinch at his bluntness“Yeah, no shit.”

Taking another breath in through your nose, you force yourself to meet his gaze, even as your nails bite into the palm of your hand and your heart skips a beat. “I just want…” but you can’t even bear to say the words aloud, not without your voice shaking like a leaf. “It’s for protection. I don’t know who else to go to. Please,” you beg.

Iwa exhales heavily, a crinkle appearing between his brows as he frowns, “This got anything to do with the blonde asshole that’s been sniffing ‘round your place?”

Your bewilderment must show, because he snorts, finally stepping back to let you inside. “Mattsun told me,” he says, answering your unspoken question.

The unmistakably hard edge to his words takes you a little by surprise, but you nod anyway, gingerly taking a seat on the couch when he jerks his chin at it. “Oh, uh, yeah. He’s my ex, kinda. We… didn’t end well.”

It’s the understatement of the century, but you somehow doubt a man like Iwaizumi gives two shits about your past relationship with a stalker. Your fingers play with the hem of your skirt as the imposing man settles down beside you. “So does this mean you’ll get me a gun?” you ask. “I can pay you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I have some money–”

Iwa scoffs, cutting you off. “If you think I’m letting you anywhere near a loaded gun, pretty girl, you’re dumber than I gave you credit for.”

You reel back as if he’s slapped you. But Iwaizumi’s staring at you with that steely expression and blood rushes to your cheeks. Why are you surprised? Did you actually think he was going to help you – a veritable stranger – just because you have some sob story? Why even bother letting you in if he was just gonna make you feel like an idiot? And for a moment you forget the gnawing terror that’s kept you up all night, letting yourself become awash with indignation. You have no control over the hurt noise that leaves your throat, but the ‘Fuck you’ that follows; that one’s intentional.

You don’t have time to regret the insult as you jump to your feet; his hand shoots out to wrap around your wrist, jerking you to a halt the moment you try it.

“I didn’t say you could go,” he tells you, and you can’t fight the shiver that rolls down your spine at the unmistakably commanding tone. “Sit.”

Wordlessly, you comply.

“Look at me.”

Again, there’s that harsh undercurrent in his voice that tells you he’s not asking, and you lift your gaze with a tense swallow. Iwa still hasn’t released your wrist, the warmth of his calloused palm searing against your skin.

He doesn’t speak for a moment, olive eyes studying your face intently as you force yourself to sit still under the appraisal. “I said that I wasn’t going to give you a gun, not that I wasn’t going to help.”

Your eyebrows draw together in confusion, “What–”

“I’ll take care of it,” he snaps, cutting you off once again. And as you inhale sharply, you realise that it’s not anger you see burning in those pretty eyes, but sheer, unrelenting fury, an icy rage that you don’t understand, that terrifies you as much as it enthrals.

Because you feel like it’s on purpose. Like he’s finally letting you get a glimpse of what silently seethes beneath that impassive mask of his. Are you scared now, sweetheart?

“H-how much?” you ask breathlessly, eyes wide and heart pounding.

“I don’t want your money,” he says quietly, his voice low and husky. And just in case there was any confusion as to what he does want, his other hand comes up to your face, a broad thumb tracing along your bottom lip as he cups your cheek.

Iwaizumi leans in slowly, as if he’s giving you time to shove him away and tell him that you’re not that kind of girl. Part of you – the part that’s terrified, frozen stiff and regretting the very moment you decided to step into his apartment and cross that line – wants to. Even now, as those hooded olive eyes drink you in, his warm breath ghosting across your skin leaving goosebumps in its wake, you’re afraid that it’s too late for that. You’ve opened a door that should never have been opened and there’s been a fundamental shift between you and him. There’s no going back for either one of you.

And the other part of you revels in it.

“Don’t kill him,” you murmur the second before his lips meet yours. “Not unless you have to.” You don’t even know if he heard you, and as Iwa deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours you find that you don’t care. You lose yourself to Iwaizumi as he leans closer, gently pushing you to lie back on the couch.

He isn’t satisfied with just your lips for long, planting hot, open mouthed kisses along your jaw and down the column of your throat, sucking on the sensitive flesh. His teeth nip at your collarbone as he busies himself unbuttoning your shirt, but your gasp sounds more like a needy whine than a plea for him to stop.

He laughs a little at that, his chest rumbling against your stomach, but he makes no moves to slow down. Instead he turns his attention to your bra, his hands far less gentle with the delicate lace than he was with your shirt, and then his mouth is on your tits, licking, sucking, biting. Tomorrow, your skin will be littered with pretty red and purple marks, and judging from the single minded focus glinting in his eyes as he stares up at you, that’s exactly his intention. Iwa drags the flat of his tongue along the swell of your breast, circling it around your nipple before he sucks it into the wet warmth of his mouth, and the whimpering moan you give him in response is a thing of beauty.

“Good girl,” he croons. “Such pretty, perfect tits.”

Your back arches when he cups the other in his hand, and you cry out when he roughly tugs the sensitive bud. He waits until the sting fades and you relax, sagging back against the cushions with relief before he does it again, harder this time. The sharp, searing pain ripples through you, your breath seizing in your chest as you try in vain to writhe away from his touch, but it’s followed by a flood of pleasure so strong it almost makes you dizzy. The fleeting kiss Iwa bestows on the supple flesh a moment later could almost be taken as an apology – if not from the satisfied smirk curling at his lips. He has no desire to be gentle with you, not today or any other day. That’s not who he is.

Large hands ease down your side, reaching for the hem of your skirt. Iwa doesn’t bother trying to pull it off of you, merely flips it up, exposing your soft thighs and the delicate panties lying underneath.

In an attempt to be helpful, you lift your hips to allow him to drag the lacy scrap of fabric down your legs and discard it, but Iwaizumi seems perfectly content with leaving them where they are. Even so, it takes you by surprise when his mouth descends on your cunt, the wet, pink muscle laving along the seat of your panties. You shiver in response, one hand instinctively reaching out to tangle in those spiky brunette locks, but if you’re about to tell him to stop teasing, the words are robbed from you when Iwa pushes the fabric aside and buries his face in the heat of your pussy.

His nose nudges at your clit and you jerk at the first lap at your folds, already shamefully wet for him. There’s no rhythm or rhyme to the way he eats you out, letting a long, thick finger slide into your cunt while he suckles and licks at your clit, but you can’t deny that it’s working. Your thighs tremble and quake beneath his hands, every second of his attention dragging you closer to unravelling entirely. And you’re awash with pleas, little whimpers and moans as he chuckles, the low vibrations making your fingers tighten in his hair as another burst of pleasure flutters through you. Your hips rise and fall against his face, desperate for more when he finally slides his tongue inside of your heat, eager to taste your cunt properly. You want more, you’re desperate and aching for it; but Iwaizumi’s grip tighten bruisingly against your thigh in warning.

You’re at his mercy, and he’s in absolutely no hurry.

The first time you cum, it takes you by surprise. It feels like an endless build-up, Iwa’s tongue lapping at your pussy like it’s heaven sent, his mouth working diligently to drive you insane. Every touch feels unbearably good, from the long, slow strokes to the way he drags the tip of his tongue along your clit. Your toes are curling, your tits heaving with the desperate breaths you choke down, and all of a sudden his mouth latches onto your clitoris and he sucks hard at the swollen nub. You almost black out right there and then, stars bursting behind closed lids as pleasure wreaks havoc over your body. But as good as that feels, it’s not until you open your eyes and catch sight of the hunger blazing in Iwaizumi’s eyes that you tip over the edge, cumming into his waiting mouth with an earth shattering moan.

At some point he must have let you go to rid himself of his own clothes, and your panties, but you’re boneless, basking in the afterglow as he shifts you once more, lifting one of your thighs up to hook your leg over his shoulder as he settles back onto the couch.

You just watch through hazy eyes as Iwaizumi gives his thick cock, already hard and flushed an angry red, a few cursory pumps. And his eyes are fixed on yours as he leans down, guiding the tip to your sopping cunt.

“Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming of this, princess,” he grunts out.

Warning bells sound in your head once more, your gut clenching uneasily, but any protests you might have voiced fall by the wayside as he slowly presses into you. It’s the girth, more than anything else, that takes you by surprise. It hurts, stretching out your poor, oversensitive cunt as his cock fills you up, inch by agonising inch.

Iwa hisses from between clenched teeth and your eyes squeeze shut, trying to breathe through the pain. It won’t last long, you know that, and until it does you just have to grin and bear it.

You can feel it twitching inside of you, every ridge and vein, the way your slick walls hug his cock. His thumb strokes along your hip, soothing you as your face screws up and another whimper slips out. You think you hear him say something, praise maybe, or encouragement, but all you can focus on is the way his cock throbs inside your pussy when he finally bottoms out and stills.

And for a moment, he doesn’t move. A small kindness, letting you become adjusted to his size before he fucks you the way he’s dying to.

“Look at me,” he says, and while his tone isn’t as sharp this time, it’s no less of an order.

Your eyes flutter open as Iwaizumi turns his head just a fraction without breaking eye contact, pressing a soft kiss against your calf. His eyes are glazed with feverish lust, pupils blown wide, almost swallowing up that thin ring of olive green entirely, and you wonder whether you should feel afraid right now.

You don’t have the words to describe it, the distant unease that seeps through you as you stare into the eyes of a man who’s clearly not in control anymore. If you screamed right now, tried to fight back or stop him, would it make a difference?

Do you actually want to?

“You’re mine,” he growls out, drawing his hips back and slamming them forward ruthlessly as you choke on a scream.

He’s relentless, hissing out curses as he fucks you like a rag doll, filling your wet, tight little cunt again and again and again. It’s all you can do to fist at the edge of the cushion, one hand wrapping around his back, your nails raking down his skin, drawing blood in their wake.

And Iwa doesn’t care, tossing his head back as he pounds his cock into your needy cunt, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. “Iwa,” you plead between gasping breaths, clinging to his broad frame. You don’t even know what you’re begging for, not as he grabs you by the hips and lifts you up, hauling you closer so he can fuck you deeper. And you can feel his cockhead rutting against your cervix with every vicious thrust, the painful stretch of your cunt as you’re forced to take his fat cock. It hurts, it does, but holy fuck you can’t focus on that when his fingers slip between your legs and he starts to rub at your puffy, oversensitive clit.

You’re whining, mewling, hips shifting as you rock against him, desperate for more friction. “Please, Iwa,” you moan.

The sound of it, the lewd slaps of skin against skin, the wet squelching as he drives his cock home again with an unforgiving pace would be enough to make you burn with embarrassment, but you don’t care because you’re quickly losing yourself to mindless pleasure. Every stroke fills you completely, it’s hot and thick and the drag of his cock against your plush walls, the way it kisses that sweet perfect spot with every thrust is driving you to insanity.

“Fuck!” you cry, clenching tightly around his length as you hurtle over the edge for a second time. You’re gushing, convulsing, back arched up off the couch, lips parted and–

Iwaizumi stops with a growl and you barely have time to process it before he’s flipping you onto your front, yanking your ass up into the air and hammering his cock back into your swollen, abused little pussy. It’s a bruising pace he sets as he chases after his own end, your name falling from his lips in harsh, breathless grunts.

It doesn’t take long for his thrusts to become sloppy, your cunt sucking him in and pulsing around his cock. And you don’t have the mental capacity to beg him to pull out, not as his muscular chest collapses against your back, his arms wrapping around your waist and he pumps you full of his seed.

Neither one of you move straight away, both fighting to catch your breath and calm down in the afterglow of your orgasms. Your eyes flutter shut as he presses soft, sweet kisses to the back of your neck, your shoulders, anywhere he can reach. It’s an intimacy that doesn’t belong here, but you find yourself arching into it, a small, tired smile curling at your lips as Iwaizumi lavishes you with affection.

And you can only whine softly when he finally pulls his cock out and stands, lifting your boneless form up into his arms, chuckling quietly when you bury your head into his chest. Your head’s empty, your thoughts a jumbled mess as he carries you into his bedroom, depositing you carefully onto the bed.

Iwaizumi leaves you there like that, and when he returns a few minutes later he’s dressed again. He doesn’t smile, but there’s something oddly content about his expression as he stops by the doorway and takes in the sight of you; naked and thoroughly fucked out, curled up amongst his covers.

“Iwa?” you ask sleepily, stretching your aching body to make yourself more comfortable as you nestle further into the soft mattress.

He doesn’t answer you as he strides in, but you watch through half lidded eyes as his expression hardens. Stopping by the bedside, Iwaizumi reaches for you. You think he’s going to cup your cheek again, maybe run his fingers through your hair, but instead his hand slides between your thighs, gathering up some of the cum that’s seeped from your pussy with his fingers and slowly pushing it back inside of you, humming when you whine and shift under him.

“I’m leaving for a bit,” he tells you, your gut clenching as you remember why you’re in this position in the first place. “You don’t leave this apartment until I get back. You don’t answer the door, you don’t tell anyone you’re here, you don’t leave this bed unless you have a goddamn good reason. Understand?”

Weakly, you nod.

“Such a good girl for me,” he breathes, and this time when he leans over he does kiss you, sweeping your hair back from your face before his warm lips meet your cheek. He lingers there for a beat longer than necessary before pulling away with a sigh.

And as the door swings shut, the sound of the lock clicking into place behind him, you begin to question whether you’ve made a mistake. You don’t doubt for a second that Iwa will follow through with his promise. Whether it’s tonight or tomorrow or a week from now, he’ll find Kazuma; him and his friends, and they’ll make sure he stays away. And until they do, you won’t leave this apartment.

There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach that despite your pleas, Iwaizumi’ll kill him.

Not because that’s the only way for this to end, though you realise that that’s always been a possibility, but because of what you glimpsed in his eyes today. Stupidly, you’d thought you had Iwa pegged. But there’s something that lurks beneath that facade, something more dangerous than you could’ve possibly imagined and the moment you opened the door to Iwaizumi it sunk its teeth into you and now you’re not sure if it’ll ever let you go.

And as you lie back in Iwaizumi’s bed, covered in the marks he left behind you wonder whether you’ve merely traded one monster for another. Perhaps it was inevitable. Inexorable.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere iwaizumi #yandere iwaizumi x reader #yandere iwaizumi hajime #yandere iwaizumi hajime x reader #tw: dubcon #tw: stalking #i've said it like 48 times today #but ily fairy #you deserve the world #if you haven't gone to wish her a happy bday #GO NOW

2K notes · View notes

wangxianficrecs · 3 years

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Follower Recs

~*~

Hello Mojo, hope you're doing well and that you had a good break! I wanted to signal boost the MDZS May Diaspora event collection on AO3, and point out my favorite fic from there: 归心似箭 | Longing to Go Home by dragongirlG! It's both tender and bittersweet and it features such mature writing. The author got some hate for it when it initially got posted so I wanted to counter that and give it some love instead! [Who would do such a thing?! @dragongirlg-fics I’m sorry that happened to you, and here, have *so many hugs!* I’ll try to do a thing just for the diaspora event, but meanwhile, I’ll just treat this as a follower rec.]

归心似箭 | Longing to Go Home

by dragongirlG (M, 8k, wangxian)

Summary: The destruction of the Yin Tiger Seal does not kill Wei Wuxian; it ages him instead. He takes shelter in a cave expecting to die, but instead he lives, slowly learning to embrace life with each new day.

Thirteen years later, a young man with a Lan forehead ribbon stumbles into the cave. His name is Lan Sizhui.

~*~

Hi Momjo!!! I recently read the most *adorable* fic, and I loved it so much that it dragged me out of seclusion (read: social anxiety cave) to rec it. It's called 'Covered in Bees' by ScarlettStorm in which the Cloud Recesses is an apiary, and Wei Wuxian has suddenly found himself host to a swarm of bees. ~ @akyra-talanoa

Covered in Bees

by ScarlettStorm (T, 8k, wangxian)

Summary: “Cloud Reccesses Apiary,” says a toneless, deep masculine voice, with zero question in it. Wei Ying doesn’t care, because whoever possesses that voice is probably going to come save him from bees like a fucking hero while wearing like, a suit of armor. That’s what you wear to catch bees, right?

“I have like, so many bees outside my front door right now,” he says, mouth running out ahead of him before he can even begin to think about reining it in. “It’s like a sandstorm of bees out there. There are so many bees. I got out of my car and there were just bees and I don’t want these bees. Do you want these bees? Please tell me you will come get these bees. I can’t leave my house and I have enough food for maybe a week but then I’m gonna have to learn how to cook dry beans and no one wants that, especially not me.” Wei Ying runs out of air, takes a breath, and belatedly adds, “My name is Wei Ying. Hi.”

Or: The beekeeping AU that no one asked for.

~*~

Hi, you are a bless to this fandom. Your blog feels like a library, so thoroughly arranged and always within hand reach. [Thank you, wow!] Recently, I was going through Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn is a Wēn tag and came across a fanfic, it has 3 chapters till now and is so intriguing that i thought to recommend it to you. I don't know if I can recommend or if you have already checked the story, The legendary Phoenix and his Dragon by Devipriya. I am in love with this story. I hope you will enjoy it too, do check it out

The legendary Phoenix and his Dragon

by Devipriya (T, 7k, wangxian)

Summary: Wen Wuxian, the essence of who he is, he is a naughty child, a prankster, an enchanting dizi player, a graceful dancer, an irresistible lover, a truly valiant warrior, a ruthless vanquisher of his foes, a man who left a broken heart in every home, an astute statesman and kingmaker, a thorough gentleman, a righteous individual of the highest order, and the most colorful incarnation.

He has been seen, perceived, understood and experienced in many different ways by different people. Different people saw different facets of who he is. For some, he is God. For some, he is a crook. For some, he is a lover. For some, he is a fighter. He is so many things.

But the phoenix, seen from the eyes of time was just a playful man. A man who plays with his awareness, with his imagination, with his memory, with his life, with his death. An individual who does not just dance with somebody. He dances with life. He dances with his enemy, He dances with the one he loves, He dances even at the moment of his death.

To taste an essence of who is Wen Wuxian, be with me in the journey of exploration, NO! playful exploration of life of a playful man.

~*~

Hi! Thanks for running this blog, it's helped me find so many fics. For your next follower recs post, I wanted to rec "This love like a flood, a fire, a fear" by natcat5. Its summary is vague (which I suspect is why it isn't better known) but it is a beautiful retelling of canon from LWJ's POV with slight canon divergence. I love the author's characterization of him and the prose is gorgeous. It is easily my favorite fic in the entire fandom, and I don't say that lightly. ~ @nyanja14

This love like a flood, a fire, a fear

by natcat5 (M, 57k, wangxian, lan wangji & lan xichen)

Summary: “I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence, and as justice loves to sit and watch everything go wrong.” - Lemony Snicket

~*~

i came to this ask to rec this baseball one called "Waiting for Spring" by thievinghippo on ao3. It somehow made me care about baseball soooo 'nough said ~ @scifikimmi

Waiting for Spring

by thievinghippo (E, 131, wangxian)

Summary: “It is a well-known fact across the major leagues that one does not smack Lan Wangji’s ass.”

Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes. Everyone smacks everyone’s ass in baseball. It’s how the game is played. Lan Wangji does not get to be exempt from this most sacred of baseball traditions.

Wei Wuxian will make sure of that.

Or, a Major League Baseball AU

~*~

hi mojo! i wanted to rec Something Good by boxoftheskyking (a loose sound of music/canon divergence au) and also MDZS: The Golden Engine by iffervescent (immortal wangxian modern au where they gotta solve a mystery and save china, featuring jiang cheng/lan xichen)

Something Good

by boxoftheskyking (T, 43k, wangxian)

Summary: "That Wei Wuxian, you know he used to be such a promising cultivator. Head Disciple of the Jiang Clan, can you believe it? You see, juniors, the punishment for traveling the path of demonic cultivation. No golden core, not so much as a whisper of spiritual power."

As a punishment for real and imagined crimes, Wei Wuxian is sentenced to work at Cloud Recesses as the lowest of servants. When a surprising reassignment lands him with eleven children to care for, everything changes again.

A Sound of Music AU

MDZS: The Golden Engine

by iffervescent (E, 82k, wangxian, xicheng)

Summary: In the modern era, immortals Lan Zhan and Wei Wuxian return to Gusu. New evil and old friends + new friends and old evils.

~*~

Hi Mojo! First of all let me just tell you that you are amazing and this blog is like a gift from the gods! Bless you and your endless patience and hard work. [Oh, thank you so much!] I know that you have just accepted follower recs and I have missed miserably but I still wanted to write and bring attention to a writer by the pseudo Xiao_Hua on ao3, I think they are quite good and I just recently found the account with so much content. If you do have the time to check them out, I'd rec catfish, my fox or the red ribbon.

The Red Ribbon

by Xiao_Hua (M, 21k, wangxian, TGCF crossover)

Summary: Wei WuXian died but not before saving HanGuang-Jun and A-Yuan, leaving so much more behind than just his ribbon.

My Fox

by Xiao_Hua (E, 13k, wangxian)

Summary: Once he headed to YiLing that all changed for him. His priorities have been mingled with and ordered in complete disarray even without him noticing as he was left heavily influenced by a creature.

Or one where Lan WangJi is a dragon-spirit and he finds his mate in the form of a fox.

Catfish

by Xiao_Hua (E, 15k, wangxian)

Summary: Wei WuXian has a common sense that believes it has a nine-to-five job while Lan WangJi finds that incredibly hot.

Or one where two catfish realise that neither of them truly catfished.

~*~

Hi Mojo i'm recommending this amazing fic it is called song of joys and regrets. it's a time travel AU it's amazing. And your Blog is a Godsend Thank you! [Aw, you’re so sweet!] ~ @highgoddess

Song of Joy and Regrets

by HelloKitten (not rated, 59k, wangxian, WIP)

Summary: The Archery competition at Qishan this year has hit a snag. As the Sects face the wrongs perpetrated by their future selves, Wei Wuxian finds himself adopted by half of the cultivation world who are determined to save him from himself.

Baby Wangxian suffers. Adult Wangxian's job here is done.

"I'm starting to see a pattern to all his plans..." "Do they all involve him being bait?" "Yes" came deadpanned responses.

~*~

Here’s a 2021 Reverse Big Bang entry, in time for Father’s Day; [Oops, my bad, sorry!] Under a Blanket of Black Wings, by ChaoticAndrogynous (#31398395); LWJ, recuperating from the 33 lashes, tells A-Yuan a series of fairytales about a heroic monster and the brave little boy he befriended. Vampire! WWX (in the framing story as well as the story-within-the-story); happy ending.

Under a Blanket of Black Wings

by ChaoticAndrogynous (T, 19k, wangxian)

Summary: Lan Wangji tells A-Yuan a bedtime story about a beautiful monster and the brave little boy who was his friend. Thirteen years later, the monster returns.

~*~

Hello Mojo! Have you read ‘Key Differences’ by Pupeez4eva? Its a MDZS!WWX meets CQL!WWX and its really good! [It’s on my list!]

Key Differences

by pupeez4eva (T, 6k, wangxian)

Summary: “I don’t understand,” Wei Wuxian said, while his alternate self continued to stare at him with almost a look of hurt in his eyes. There was longing in there too, which Wei Wuxian would have easily recognised if he paid enough attention. “How could you not get together, after everything. What even went on in the Guanyin Temple if you didn’t confess?”

“The Guanyin Temple,” Wei Ying repeated incredulously. “You’re asking me if I confessed at — honestly, a lot went on that day. It was a life and death situation. There was no confessing.”

Wei Wuxian stared at him, appalled.

(Wherein Wei Wuxian ends up meeting an alternate version of himself who, much to his horror, never married Lan Wangji. Obviously he has to do something to fix this).

~*~

Hey Mojo i would recommend this fanfic if you already haven’t, it’s called “ take me back to a time “ by DizziDreams. It’s sooooo good

take me back to a time

by DizziDreams (T, 144k, wangxian, 3zun)

Summary: Wei Ying has a lot on his plate right now.

It’s finals week -- which isn’t so bad. He’s never had to study much to do well in classes. But that just means that things are that much more tense with Jiang Cheng, who, as far as Wei Ying can tell, only takes study breaks long enough to glare at Wei Ying where he sits on the couch playing video games.

It’s not studies that have Wei Ying stressed out. It’s everything else. It’s the recruitment for the research trial he’s coordinating. It’s jiejie and her impending marriage to His Royal Douchebag Jin Zixuan. It’s the volunteer work at the palliative care facility. It’s Wen Ning’s worsening condition. It’s Wen Qing working herself thin to care for her brother and Wen Yuan. It’s the way Wen Yuan never seems to have enough food.

So, yeah. There’s enough on Wei Ying’s plate already, meaning it’s not entirely welcome when he comes home and finds a man standing in his bedroom. A man in extravagant white robes, a ribbon tied around his forehead, long hair gathered into a topknot, fist clutching a sword at his side, who asks him, “Where am I?”

~*~

Idk if this has already been rec’d (I’ve been off the grid for a while now), but there’s this absolutely incredible fic called Restitution by an anon on ao3 people should definitely check out!

this one?

on restitution

by Anonymous (M, 78k, wangxian, jin ling & wei wuxian, lan sizhui & wei wuxian, WIP)

Summary: When Wei Wuxian regains consciousness, he is in a bed. A real, proper bed, not the slab he called a bed in his cave in the Burial Mounds.

Jiang Cheng is glowering above him.

Wei Wuxian doesn't die during the siege of the Burial Mounds. Rather, he is captured in secret and confined at Lotus Pier. Things change accordingly.

~*~

Hi momjo! I feel like every time I come to your blog there's twenty more new and amazing fics for me to read. Thank you for everything you do for this fandom! [Thank you, sweetie! And yes, I think there ARE 20 new fics every day out there in the fandom. It’s amazing!] Today I come bearing my own rec to you. I've recently read this and it's IMO one of the best fics out there. It's called Lapsteel by carriecmoney and it's a modern stormchaser AU featuring country songs and coming home. ~ @manaika-chan

Lapsteel

by carriecmoney (T, 42k, wangxian)

Summary: Now and then, I think about you now and then...

It's been thirteen years since Wei Ying ran for the prairies, leaving behind a family in shambles and a secret on the Pacific wind. What happens when the storm he swirled catches up to him?

Modern AU with country music star Lan Zhan, stormchaser Wei Ying, and shared crossroads.

~*~

#wangxian fic rec #follower recs #wangxian #mdzs #the untamed #follower rec #I HAVEN'T READ THESE YET

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russadler · 3 years

Text

All That Remains: Chapter Two

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

A look back to happier times and a defining conversation

A/N: Hey lol once again sorry I took so long. This chapter is relatively shortish (?) because it was originally part of the next chapter, but I decided to split it since it was getting long lmao. The next chapter will actually be coming soon I promise I was like almost finished but decided to publish this section since it was done and yall need to get fed.

Also another note I guess? I refer to Russell as “Adler” even though its third person Sophie centric. I believe since they came to know each other through work, Sophie only initially heard/knew of him by his last name and will still refer to him in her mind as such. I didn’t do this much in the first chapter but I thought about it and also it felt weird calling him Russell all the time LMFAOO

August 2nd, 1980

“…I’m surprised you never had kids.”

It’s more of a question than a statement, and an admittedly nosey one. They’re currently in the midst of a very picturesque picnic in a field of their choosing, the pair of them eating lunch while sprawled across a spare blanket pulled from the back of Russell’s car. The man in question is currently laid on his side, chewing a strawberry and peering up at her with a curiously cocked eyebrow making an appearance over the rim of his aviators.

Sophie wriggles under the scrutiny, a blush rising to her cheeks as she redirects her eyes towards her leather boots with a timid huff. They had been together for more than enough time by now, enough time for the lustre of having Russell Adler as her boyfriend to have worn off. Yet, even all these months later, a mere glance from the man was enough to leave her flushed and stumbling over her words.

“I’m sorry —“ She rushes to apologize, sandwich suddenly forgotten as she picks sheepishly at a loose thread on her dress. She had meant to word things a little…differently, but who was she kidding? it wasn’t her place to ask such things in the first place.

With Russell, the more you pressed him, the further away he pulled. His trust came with patience and time, a small price Sophie didn’t mind paying. There were things he held close to himself, his marriage being one of them. It was obviously a sensitive topic, or at least one he didn’t enjoy talking about. She hadn’t intended to interrogate him about the fact he didn’t have any children despite being married for a little over a decade, it was his business. Only recently had he begun sharing that part of his life with her, and it was a sign of his trust that she deeply valued.

And here she went, utterly obliterating that carefully constructed confidence because she seemed to lack a brain-to-mouth filter.

“You’re fine, kid.” Russell soothes, interrupting her scattered thoughts. The woman manages to to will herself to look at him again, where his enlivened grin signaling he was more amused than offended by the statement.

He sits up, and one of his hands moves to rub at her thigh in reassurance. “I admire that you’re always pretty straight to the point.” He notes lightheartedly, subtly pacifying her current flustered state.

The woman huffs, self conscious despite the comforting words. "It gets me in trouble way too much.” She confesses, biting into her sandwich a bit too harshly. It was true. She had a terrible habit of being too honest for as long as she could remember, and it had made for some terribly awkward experiences throughout her life.

“I’d argue telling the truth is a pretty good thing to get in trouble for.” Adler remarks in return, his hand remaining on her thigh as he continues with his lunch. She could tell he was making a point of appearing relatively unconcerned about the whole thing, likely in a bid to provide her some sense of consolation. The man was leaving little room for her to feel upset at herself.

Sophie releases a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and relaxes, shoulders loosening as she finishes the last of her sandwich.

There’s another beat of silence, and then it occurs to her that Russell had managed yet again to wriggle his way out of talking about himself. It was a common pattern, nearly every time she attempted to make conversation that centered around him, he would artfully steer the conversation away from himself and find a way to redirect the topic towards her.

He was annoyingly good at it, too, and she was just starting to catch on that he was doing it in the first place.

“Wait! You didn’t answer the question!” The brunette gasps, exasperated. “You always do this!”

“Do what?” Russell retorts, behaving as if he were completely ignorant of what was the matter. He always acted as if he didn’t know.

“You always find a way to not answer me! Every time you change the subject and then hope I forget!” The woman laughs, failing miserably in her attempt to come across as annoyed. His behavior was maddening, but Sophie often found she was less irritated and more awestruck that the man was so artful at playing people.

“I’d never do that, you’re just making things up.” Russell quips, mouth twisted with a lopsided smile as he continues the playful banter. “I love talking about myself, actually. Could do it all day.”

Adler just keeps smirking, stuffing a strawberry into his mouth as he does. The younger rolls her eyes, because as much as she loved him, the man could seriously be a pain. “You don’t actually have to answer the question if you don’t want to. ” She adds, humor now absent from her voice as she quietly rearranges the bundle of wildflowers she had picked.

“I said it was fine, sweetheart. Don’t worry about it.” Russell tells her again, his voice calm and even as he continues to rub circles into her skin. There’s a brief pause, and suddenly the hand on her thigh stops moving. “Wait, do you want kids? Is this your way of asking?” He asks, his head suddenly shifting to level her with a steely gaze. Despite the presence of the aviators on his face, she can feel the intensity of his stare. The man’s demeanor had grown suddenly serious, alert even.

“No! I mean…kids are nice and all and I don’t mind them…but I’m not really dead set on having them.” She explains, her own hand darting to grasp Russell’s larger one. From one moment to the next, it had suddenly become her turn to offer reassurance. “In all honesty, I feel I’d quite rather do without them, really.” She returns the man’s heavy gaze with one of her own, both in search of his reaction and in the hopes of communicating her honesty. "I was just…curious.” She admits shyly.

It was the truth, she wasn’t one of those girls whose ultimate life goal was of being a housewife with the white picket fence, apple pies, and endless kids. There was nothing wrong with that ideal per say, but it wasn’t something she saw herself wanting.

The woman wasn’t really looking to make children a part of her life. If it happened, it happened, but she could go without them and feel just fine about it.

Russell, on his part, seemed relieved. Accepting her answer with a nod, his gaze moves towards the sky above as he gives her hand a short squeeze.

Then to her complete surprise, he decides to answer the question anyways. Sophie turns to look at the taller as he begins to speak, shifting to lay on her left side and face him as he leaned back on his hands.

“Well...there’s a lot of reasons, really. First, my job.” Adler then pauses to spare her a brief glance, as if to ensure she understood what he was attempting to convey. It was no secret that Russell was often away, leaving her for weeks and sometimes months on end. She was never allowed to have any hint of what he was doing or even where he was going, all that she could know was that his work was very important and very dangerous.

Sometimes she found herself sitting at home and just hoping he was still alive. Confirmation that he was okay only came when he either called her to say he was coming home (which was rare) or until he appeared out of the blue. It wasn’t a feeling she liked having, and a sentiment Russell hated subjecting her to.

It was just the way it was, the way it had to be. Their relationship would always come second to work, Adler had made that very clear from the start. She was either in or out, and he made sure that she knew the price that she would be paying in being with him.

Russell sighs, the exhale sounding deep and tired before he continues. “It would be unfair to do that to a kid, they wouldn’t understand why their dad was away all the time...And it would have been unfair to my ex, she would have had to essentially raise them all on her own.”

Sophie nods silently in understanding, the living scenario was on she had come to understand personally. The periods of absence would be difficult on both mother and child for various reasons, and it was good that the couple had weighed the risks.

“Some of the guys at work are okay with that, and have wives that were okay with that, but for us..?” He continues, voice even as he grasps one of the flowers she had stuffed into the picnic basket and begins rolling the stem between his thumb and pointer finger. “We didn’t want kids that bad. We were okay, just it being the two of us.”

“You both ended up going your separate ways, too. I could imagine if you had kids that would have been a nightmare.” She adds, a relatively astute observation but one that she felt was worth mentioning. They had made the right choice after all, it had seemed.

“God, I’m thankful we didn’t for that reason especially.” Russell replies with audible relief, thankful that children hadn’t been something to consider in their subsequent divorce.

There’s a moment of silence, and she thinks he’s finished speaking, especially seeing that he officially answered her question.

But then he sits up properly, clearing his throat before speaking once more. “And all these years later my feelings about it are the same and I don’t regret it.” He tells her, sounding confident and assured as he rips most of the stem away from the main portion of the flower with a powerful yank. “Even if I wanted them now, I’m a bit too old to be a dad. So that ship has long sailed.”

Sophie nods. Russell was a man of very few regrets, and his sense of judgement was one she had come to trust wholeheartedly. He turns to her, an arm reaching out to tuck a few locks of her hair out of the way before placing the remainder of the flower behind her ear.

The woman smiles so hard her cheeks ache. Russell Adler was a romantic, despite the fact he vehemently denies it. It was true and no one was going to believe her ever. “I don’t think you really missed out, everyone I know who has kids just complains about them.” She states, still smiling.

The taller’s chest rumbles with a chuckle. Having carefully maneuvering the food out of the way, he then wraps an arm around her shoulders, he pulls her down to lay at his side as she lets out a surprised squeak. “Have we been talking to the same people?” He asks.

“If one of them is named Jason Hudson, then yes.”

Russell laughs then, and it’s music to her ears.

#get into it yuh #anyways next chapter we got some DRAMAAAA #russell adler #russell adler x oc #russell adler fanfic #call of duty #call of duty fanfic #black ops cold war #bocw #black ops cold war fanfic #bocw fanfic #mine #my writing #all that remains #also if u see any errors...no u didnt

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laurore-stormwitch · 3 years

Text

BEWARE THERE ARE ROW SPOILERS IN THIS FAN FICTION

So, I did something. Rule of Wolves left me in tears. But I felt we were missing an epilogue, and that’s my take. We can see a little of Nikolai courting Zoya, his proposal and the wedding. I poured all my love into this, all of how much these characters mean to me. I hope it can bring comfort and a smile to all of you who love them as much. I don’t say it much, but this is one of the things I loved most writing, and I hope you’re gonna enjoy it. I send a big hug to whoever has taken this grishaverse wild ride word count: 4953 you are my endless summer - ao3

“Is this strictly necessary?”

Zoya asked, faking more annoyance than she felt. She wondered what kind of crazy idea had come to Nikolai’s mind this time, as she stumbled through the woods with a strip of cloth tied on her eyes. Nikolai was guiding her, holding her hand and her elbow to steady her through the fallen branches on the ground. He didn’t answer, but she could swear she could hear the smug smirk on his face.

“I already know where you’re taking me. You’ve kept me away from the garden for two months, I kind of figured out what you were doing.”

“How cunning you are. That’s why I love you.”

She nudged him on what she hoped was his stomach, eliciting a laugh from his side.

“Humour me Zoya, please. What kind of a surprise would it be if I let you see?”

“The kind where you don’t end up being a pile of smoking dust.”

Nikolai laughed again, a crystal-clear sound that made her heart twitch. The threat was not that far from the truth. Nikolai had been entertaining himself way too much with this idiotic courting thing he had decided to pursue. She thought back on when she believed she could have a quiet romance with him. A quiet romance with a man who has a double identity as a privateer and wears a ridiculous teal frock coat. Great thinking, Zoya.

The first hint of how much not quiet Nikolai was going to be had been the absurd deal of public flirting he engaged in, knowing damn well how Zoya was used to propriety. And bitter and ruthless words, at the very best. Not even under torture she would admit how endearing it had been instead; better to keep scolding him. However, as usual, Nikolai saw right through her pretence, caught the gleam of amusement and desire in her eyes. That had only made him become more daring and blatant. Nothing could compare for him to the satisfaction of leaving Zoya speechless. Zoya had tried to match his bold attitude, but she had to admit she was not half as good as him. To this day, he was still rubbing in her face the time where she had almost caused a diplomatic incident due to the shock of his shamelessness. He had just got back from a trip to Ketterdam, right after the coronation. They were waiting at the palace’s gates to meet with the Shu delegation, coming to pay their respect to the recently crowned queen. Nikolai had chosen the moment where their newly acquired allies were emerging from the carriages to lean into her ear to whisper, ignoring the fact that they were surrounded by soldiers and dignitaries, and not just Genya and Alina like last time; Nikolai loved an audience as much as he loved himself.

“I see you’ve resorted back to your kefta”, he had muttered in a casual tone.

Zoya had cut him a quick glare, saying something she would regret later. “Did you like the coronation dress better?”

“Oh no, not at all. If I remember correctly, I suggested you get out of that.” The Shu delegation was getting closer. Nikolai had lowered his voice even more, starting to smile at them. “I stand to my suggestion. There are several outfits I like better on you than a dress. Namely, your kefta, which I'm happy you got back.” She had kept her eyes trained in front of her, ignoring him. “Or the rough spun clothes you use when we are on the Volkvolny.” He had plucked a non-existent dust from his sleeve, keeping the nonchalant attitude of someone who was speaking about the weather. “Your nightdress, the one that looks like a starry night and has a shockingly small amount of fabric.” He had waved a hand in Ehri’s direction, who by that time had been a couple of steps too close to them for Nikolai to keep talking. But the man did have a tendency to risk his life. “But you with nothing on would definitely be in first place.”

Zoya had widened her eyes and a violent rush of blood had tinged her cheeks, while Nikolai had sprinted on to welcome her guests and she stood there like an idiot, trying to catch back her composure. After that, she had quickly understood just how much Nikolai appreciated a challenge. And when he understood just how much Zoya hated to cause a scene, that had been the end for her. At least it seemed like they were alone right now. Better to be safe than sorry, although.

“Nikolai, please at least tell me you’re not about to stage another of your embarrassing public fit.” She asked him now, half pleading and half threatening, as they made their way through the woods.

Nikolai chuckled. “Not this time. And do not lie to me, I know you’ve enjoyed my scenes.”

“I have not.”

“Not even a smidge?”

“You should thank the Saints you’re still breathing after all the stunts you pulled.”

“The Saints and your infinite love for me, I suppose.”

“My love may be infinite, but I assure you my patience is not.”

Zoya tried to keep the smile from her voice, failing miserably. Nikolai had a way to overwhelm her with a now familiar lightness and serenity. Their bickering, his hand in hers, his scent in the air. It all felt like home. So much so that she had found herself subtly pressing on him to get married, eager to have him forever with her. It was a feeling of certainty she wasn’t willing to let go of. It was a treasure she wanted to protect. And she didn’t really care about grand gestures, about big declarations. As far as she was concerned, she could find a ring on her nightstand and they could be married in secret. Nikolai knew that, always seemed to know exactly what kind of attention she needed. He left her his little wire boats everywhere to be found, he concocted small and useless inventions just for the sake of amusing her. He placed hidden notes and drawings in her drawers or under her pillows. He courted her in a way she had never been courted before, dedicating his clever mind to making her feel loved and safe - a task in which he was succeeding brilliantly.

But the privateer in him came out every now and then. Apart from the flirting, which she could admit she had been enjoying, he had picked up the unnerving habit of pretending to be about to propose to her in the middle of all sorts of gatherings. The first time he had sank down on one knee had been during one of their evenings with the rest of their friends. Everyone had drawn a sharp breath, falling silent and still. But the idiot had simply picked up one of her earrings that had fallen on the floor, winking at her while she narrowed her eyes at him from the upside down. Then he got bolder and bolder. The next time, he had clanked his glass at the end of a state dinner, saying he had a declaration to make for his queen. Zoya had glared at him from her seat, shifting uncomfortably, praying to all the Saints for him to shut up. But the worst had been during the ball they threw last week in honour of some Saint or occurrence she could not even remember. They were dancing, spinning around the ballroom. Nikolai was indeed a very gifted dancer, so she usually let him guide her. It was a strange feeling, the safety of being carried by his arms.

“Your hand is nowhere near the level of propriety, Nikolai”, she had whispered with a playful look, noting the fire on her skin as he had brushed her lower back.

He had smirked. “Let them envy me. I’m dancing with the most gorgeous woman in the room.”

“The one that’s going to step on your foot if you don’t behave yourself.”

Nikolai had nudged her closer, skimming his lips on her jaw. “Want to give them something else to watch?” And then, without preamble, he had kneeled in front of her, right in the middle of the ballroom, holding one of her hands in his. The music had stopped, the room had been filled with ecstatic murmurs. Zoya had caught Genya giggling on the other side of the room, but she could only hear her heart thrumming in her chest.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

One beat had passed. Two beats, and that delicious grin of his had erupted on Nikolai’s face. He had cleared his throat and turned to the people assembled around them.

“Pardon me for the interruption, but I believe it’s time for the Queen to give her speech!” He had joyfully declared, getting back up on his feet. She had looped her arm on his, seething under her breath.

“I am going to smite you where you stand.”

From that moment on, every time he had tried to garner the attention in public endeavours, she had been terrified to see him cause another scene. Deep down, Zoya knew he was not going to ask her like this. He was way too much of a romantic soul to do this. Sure enough though, he was immensely enjoying himself. She supposed she could let him have his fun. As long as she was his, and he was hers, she didn’t really care how many times he would embarrass her. There was nothing on earth that could compare to the feeling of seeing him beaming with happiness. Not even the dragon, in all his lifetimes, had known a warmth like this. Zoya loved him enough to let him have his way at times.

The creak of the garden door distracted her from her thoughts. Finally, Nikolai stopped. She heard him move behind her and place his hands on her hips, while his lips brushed on the skin of her neck.

“You can look now.”

He murmured against her skin. Was she imagining the slight tremble of emotion in his voice? He sounded thrilled, nervous. Slowly, she pulled the cloth from her eyes, caught back by the light that was flooding the place. Whatever she had thought she was going to see, it was nothing compared to what Nikolai had built. The breath was knocked out of her lungs, the beating of her heart racing up like it was about to take flight. It was her garden, but it was so much more. The structure Nikolai had designed was an engineering marvel of glass and wrought iron, twisting toward the sky, looking like the dome of a chapel. A perfect combination of his brilliance and a most expert Fabrikator’s craft. The whole building was transparent; Zoya could see the sky beyond, the clouds, the ray of sun warming up the place and shattering through the glass in a rainbow of colours. The flowers hadn’t been touched; new pots had been placed, new space to fill. The thorn wood still ran on the sides, around the bricks and the lanterns. But the wall had been painted with every sort of wonder; there was a dragon roaring through the sky, a ship that looked like the Volkvolny sealing a storm-swept sea, with a two-star flag added to Sturmhond’s one. A fox emerged from the bushes on the wall nearer to the door. The Grisha colours and symbols were all over the place, a flash of blue, red, and purple blossoms; waves, fire and lightnings ran throughout the murals.

“Alina painted them.”

Explained Nikolai, whispering softly when he noticed she was looking at the walls. Zoya took two steps in front of her, tilting her head up. There weren’t words she possessed right enough for this moment, none of the languages she knew was fit to describe this. The wrought iron was shaped like quince and gusts of wind that towered over the place in a million branches, spreading on the lines of the glass dome.

“Every panel of glass can be opened in the summer. They’re closed now, so that the heat stays in and the flowers can blossom in every season.”

Nikolai’s voice was still soft, still stumbling a little, like he was holding his breath to wait for her reaction. He had poured all of himself into this extraordinary building. This is what love does. If only Lilyiana could see her now. If she could see what she had found. Let love pour through, my little girl. Let your golden hero carry you home. You are safe. Zoya was shaking. Breathing was hard. She turned to him, feeling a suspicious prickle behind her eyes. Nikolai had once again got down on his knee amidst her wildflowers; she caught the sparkle of a jewel in his hand. Zoya smiled, too stricken with emotions to concentrate on anything that wasn't him.

“I hope it’s the last time you kneel to me.” Zoya tried to muster some wit, but her voice came out croaked, her throat sore. Nikolai was undoing her.

“Do shut up, Your Highness. I believe it’s my turn to speak.” The too-clever fox smirked, a clear and expectant look in his gleaming hazel eyes. “I had a speech - honestly it’s hard to remember it right now.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been wanting you for so long, and I’ve been believing for so long that there wasn’t a future for us, that it seemed impossible to have this.”

He opened his mouth again, clearly about to correct himself, but Zoya was quicker. “Improbable”, she added, unable to restrain herself. Another smirk curled his lips.

“Improbable”, he conceded, immensely satisfied that she had picked up on his favourite line. “I know I’ve kept you waiting. I would have asked the first time you kissed me. I would have asked that night in the cargo hold. But I said something else that night, something I wanted to live up to.”

Zoya watched him carefully, trying to see through him, to wrap her head around what was happening. She felt like her heart was about to burst in her chest.

“There were things I wanted to do before asking you. I wanted to gift you something ill-suited for war, something precious. That’s why I built this.” He gestured to the structure around them. “Because your garden need not be just a monument to grief anymore, but one to life. To the way you make everything around you blossom.” Nikolai paused, his gaze intense and fierce on her. “And then there were other things I told you I would have done for you, once I could.”

“You wanted to give me a crown.” Zoya said, with surprise in her voice. She had started to figure out where he was going with this, had started to grasp his words from the memory of that night, carved inside her.

“That was the first thing. I believe it worked splendidly. What else did I tell you?”

“You wanted to show me the world from the prow of your ship.”

She brought her fingers to her lips, as if she could not believe her own realization. Her voice was trembling too, now. She remembered. She remembered when Nikolai had insisted they took a couple of days at sea, during their mission in Os Kervo. Zoya knew Nikolai wanted to travel with her, but they simply had not had the time to do it properly. Zoya had promised him they would, someday, when peace was secured. Nikolai had pressed her on that trip to sail on the Volkvolny, even for a little while. She had not questioned him, thought he was only being nonsensical as usual and had obliged him. He had told her something, on the railing of the ship, as the sun was setting in front of them. That’s why I like the sea, he had said to her, because when you look out at the horizon, you see everything beyond. Look, Zoya. You can see the whole world from here. It’s all ours for the taking. She had laughed, tilting her head to the sun. You gave me Ravka, Nikolai. It’s enough for me. She had been wrong. Nikolai had not just given her Ravka. Here, in the silence of her garden, she knew he was giving her so much more.

“And then there was one last thing.” Nikolai encouraged her. Zoya drew a sharp breath, catching the ring in his hand into focus.

“You wanted to give me a sapphire, the size of an acorn.”

Nikolai took her hand and placed the ring in it. The band was made of white gold, in the shape of a dragon curled around itself. Between its tail and its head, it held a glowing sapphire, the colour of a midnight sky. She peered at him under her lashes, too overwhelmed to say anything. His hands were shivering.

“I know it’s not the size of an acorn. We are still slightly broke, and, well - I thought you would have liked it better like this. It’s more elegant, it suits you more.”

Silence enveloped them. Zoya felt his warm uneven breathing on her skin, his nervousness, the sheer truth and love behind his actions taking her like a tide, filling the well inside her that had once protected her grief and caged her heart.

“I wanted you to understand that I’ll always be true to my promises. I don’t know when I started loving you, but I know I’m lost now. I searched for you for a lifetime. I still want you all the time. I want to lay beside you every night, wake up with you in my arms every morning. I want to build the future with you, I want to watch you scowl at people and be the brave and ruthless leader you are.” Nikolai inhaled a deep breath, trying to steady his voice. “You've been my general. You are my friend, the woman I love. I would have chosen you before, I would now and I always will. Would you do me the honour of being my wife?”

Zoya didn’t try to hold back the tears. It didn’t matter. It didn’t because she had never felt safer in her life than she was feeling now, held in the dome that protected her garden, in the hands of the man that had always protected her. What he was telling her now, it had an echo to so many other things he had told her in the past, scattered throughout the moments they had shared. It told the story of how they took care of each other for so long, of their longing, of their strength. How they had found each other at last. She gently kneeled in front of him, folding her hand over the one that was holding the ring. All around them, the flowers had sprouted, their scent clouding them. She placed the other hand on his cheek, locking their eyes together. It took all her might to find her voice within the emotions swimming in her chest. Zoya had never been sentimental like him. She had never tried to be, maybe she could never be. Yet, she wanted him to know now; to know even a fraction of how much her love for him ran deep in her veins.

“You made me believe that impossible really is just a word.” She tried, wavering, gaining more confidence with each word she brought out. “You made me believe again, Nikolai. You are the hero of every story I have ever heard. And yes, I’ll marry you.”

He opened in an astonishing expression of relief, leaning in her touch. Nikolai slipped the ring on her finger, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

“Turns out you can be romantic too, when you want to.” He teased, getting up and bringing her with him, circling her in his arms. As she leaned on his chest, she heard the rhythmic pounding of his heart, quick as the flapping of a bird’s wings.

“It’s hardly a match between the two of us. I know how much you enjoy it, so I let you take all the credit.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Does this mean you’ll stop kneeling in front of crowds?”

“I think so. I will not stop with the flirting, though. It’s a compulsion.”

Zoya went on her toes to press a kiss on his mouth.

“Do keep up with that. I like it.”

She tucked her hand into his pocket, closing her fingers on the blue ribbon he kept on him all the time. Zoya pulled it out, unfurling it in front of them.

“I believe I’ll need this for the wedding day.”

The smile that lightened up his face was worth a thousand wars to wage. A thousand years to wait.

***

To say that the wedding was grand, would have been an understatement. Genya had outdid herself, both with the decorations and the dress. If Zoya had thought she had made a great work with the coronation, what she had managed to create on this day put everything else to shame. Zoya didn’t remember much of it. It had been a whirlwind of colours and voices, people kissing her hand and offering their congratulations, dancing, and music and mostly a lot of drinking on their part. The ceremony had been long and complicated, but as usual, Nikolai had made everything more bearable. Somehow, he had managed to make her feel like they were the only two people standing in the chapel, the same one that held such awful memories and was now a place of celebration.

She had chosen not to wear gold, and they all went with it. Once had been enough; silver was more fitting for a dragon queen that commanded the storm. Being a queen had its advantages in terms of breaking with traditions. Nikolai had walked the aisle with her; he had never left her side, he had never left the grip on her hand. Zoya could feel his intense desire to make this day joyful for her. She would never stop marvelling at his selflessness, at how good and pure his heart was. To her surprise, he had chosen to relent the traditional Ravkan wedding vows in favour of the ones spoken by Grisha. They applied a lot more to them than any other oath they could make.

We are soldiers. I will march with you in times of war. I will rest with you in times of peace. I will forever be the weapon in your hand, the fighter at your side, the friend who awaits your return. I have seen your face in the making at the heart of the world and there is no one more fierce, passionate, and unbreakable.

There was not much else to say; everything they needed to tell each other, they had already done in the quiet of their intimacy. Everything they needed to share about what it meant to have each other, they already knew. But Nikolai had added something, lowering his voice to a whisper, only for her to hear.

I will always seek to make it summer for you.

He had spoken the words in Suli. A ridiculous Suli, with an accent as thick as Zoya’s one and probably quite the number of mistakes. Zoya didn’t care. She didn’t know much Suli either, but she had understood. She had felt the urge to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him senseless, all these people be damned. Instead, she had murmured her answer to him, searching in her childhood for the words, hoping his knowledge of the language was broader than hers.

You are my endless summer.

Nikolai’s eyes had sparkled, his lips trembled when he had kissed her, knocking her off his feet, and she knew he had understood too. The first half of the party had been slightly tedious. Her dress was heavy, the crown hitched on her head. But as the night went on and the brandy had started to flow, she had found she was enjoying herself much more than she thought. Nikolai’s presence glowed in the room, equally as handsome as her. It was well past midnight when people had started retiring, saying their goodbyes to the newly wed royal couple.

At last, they found themselves alone at a table with all their friends. Tolya was astoundingly drunk, much to their amusement. He was trying to convince Adrik to stand on a chair and recite some poetry with him. Adrik, who was incredibly smiling, seated next to Leoni who wore her usual thousand sun merry expression. Adrik had taken Zoya’s position in the Triumvirate, while Leoni held the post for the Materialki now. She and Genya were deep in an argument about some sort of poison used to make people sleepwalk. Genya was laughing, her head thrown back, a glass of honey tea in her hand. Seeing her happy was a sight for sore eyes. Zoya knew they were all missing David more tonight; her eyes wandered on her friend’s kefta, which stood a little too tight around her stomach. The bump was starting to show clearly right now, four months into the pregnancy. She was beaming. It takes a village, people said about raising a child. This child would definitely never be alone. Alina and Mal had retired earlier, eager to return to their kids. She had held Alina in an embrace a little longer than usual, trying to convey how wonderful her gift to Zoya had been, how much comfort the paintings in her garden would bring. In the middle of the room, Tamar and Nadia were still dancing, or trying to at least, missing every rhythm of the music. Tamar stopped abruptly when she saw Zoya watching them.

“I can’t believe you two pulled it off, at last!” She made a toast in their direction, making Nadia stumble.

“I can’t believe Nikolai pulled it off”, Genya smirked, toasting back to Tamar with her tea.

Nikolai shrugged his shoulders. “I’m known for always choosing the hardest quest.”

There was little hope to ever make them stop with the teasing. Turning her gaze, Zoya caught sight of Nina and her prince, who had traveled all the way from Fjerda to be here tonight. Nina was stunning as usual, in a dress that hugged every curve of her, stacking on a pile of pastries and forcing Hanne to taste each and every one of them. The reckless Heartrender didn’t miss the chance to weigh in on the conversation, popping a pastry in her mouth. “And to think Zoya was the one to bash me about falling in love with Fjerdans. It backfired right in your face.”

Zoya clicked her tongue. “At least I take care not to let people walk in on us having a private moment.”

“That’s on you”, Nina grinned, “But I guess now you know that the thing about Fjerdans being cold it’s just a myth.”

“Definitely a myth", confirmed Nikolai, winking at Nina. Leave it to the two of them to be inappropriate.

Tolya downed another glass of whisky. For a giant, he didn’t have a good resistance to alcohol. “Good luck Zoya, he’s all yours to suffer now.” He managed to mutter. “At least he’s not moping around about you anymore like a lost puppy.” Tolya, the most respectful soldier she knew. He really was drunk.

“I’ll still mop around about her, don’t worry.”

“I can manage, I think", Zoya answered to Tolya, curling her lips.

She sighed happily, tightening the hold on Nikolai’s hand next to her, while she watched the people who were now her family filling the air with their laughter. He put the glass down, gazing at her with amusement. His golden hair were ruffled, his elegant shirt crumpled, his skin heated. His eyes were filled with awe, a smile dancing on his lips. She felt her breath itch at the sight of him. Nikolai leaned closer to her, bringing her hand up to his mouth. His look turned soft, affectionate.

“You survived today wonderfully.”

Zoya fell silent, watching her golden boy. This is what love does. You fight for it, and it saves you. You build it, brick by brick, and it stays. The dragon spread his wings inside her.

“You built me a home.”

She told him, and cocked her head to the side, making some strands of hair fall from the elaborate updo Genya had weaved. Nikolai rushed to tuck them back into the ribbon that held them in place, the one she had taken from his pocket when he had proposed.

“You gave me something to build it for. Someone to fill it with.”

Zoya knew, in that moment. She knew that every blow, every pain, every loneliness she had endured had been meant to take her here. It had been meant to make her worthy of him, to make her believe they could have this. She knew every loss and every battle had forged her so that she could let herself love him. And Nikolai made everything possible. The weight of his hand in hers felt sacred.

“We will go on, you and I. We are going to be fine.”

It wasn’t a question. It was the strongest belief she had ever had. It was hope. After an eternity of fighting and suffering, the stone tumbled inside her, coming to rest. Nikolai nodded, closing his eyes and sighing. The world felt easier. It felt warm, and sunny, full of his light.

“Yes, we are.”

And they would. For years to come, they would be fine.

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