#RESTLESS AS THE WIND (OOC)

[starlitwishes]

While I don't personally like modern AUs too much (as a lot of the time they remove the things I like about Genshin, like the fantastical elements and what not) but, there is one thing that I've had on my mind lately.

Wrenn would not own a "home" in a modern verse. He's very much a vagabond, living in his van.

That doesn't mean his van isn't fully kitted out to be essentially a small home, however.

He has a mini dish washer, a mini fridge/freezer, portable grill, a couch that can be converted into a mattress, and even a TV. It runs on a power bank that's recharged with mostly solar power as he installed solar panels on the roof of his van. It's insulated and everything--it probably even has a mini kitchen and sink. And of course he's made room for storage.

The only thing it wouldn't have is a bathroom--but a cheap gym membership covers that, if in the AU it is necessary (as again, I still like my modern Genshin AUs with fantasy elements so in my ideal modern AU he'd still be a doll)

He would pick up a bunch of odd jobs here and there to pay for gas and food expenses, but he may also have a steady online tutoring job to pay for most expenses.

He would stay in one place for a while before randomly vanishing off in the night, staying just long enough for people to recognize him around the local area. And then like a ghost, he vanishes, moving on to the next location. A journey that has no destination or purpose, other than he just cannot bring himself to stay.

He keeps connected to his friends via his cell phone and laptop, and visits them once in a while, and stay for a good amount of time. But just when people are used to him being back, he vanishes again. Forever a ghost, forever wandering.

#muse: Wrenn #ooc #headcanon #I think this is the kind of life he would enjoy the most #quiet and quaint #nothing too crazy #but also a little restless #He is like the Wind and he has Got to Go #I think it's an interesting contrast to what a modern day Venti or Evan would look like because #Even if they are also wandering souls #they would still have something they consider a 'home' #where as wrenn truly lives without one

[amillixnvoices]

tag drop

#;;you can read all about it ( memes ) #;;it's time to turn it up game on ( queue ) #;;you've got the words to change a nation ( ooc ) #;;now it's just me myself and i ( lockwood ) #;;don't rain on my parade ( rachel ) #;;i don't have any reasons i've left them all behind ( marley ) #;;here comes the sun ( dani ) #;;when the bones are good the rest don't matter ( buck ) #;;she's the king of new york ( katherine ) #;;there's just no telling how far i'll go ( sarah ) #;;everyone thinks that i have it all ( morgana ) #;;i truly believe i am quite capable of something more ( eloise ) #;;restless hearts sleep alone tonight ( brimsley ) #;;sometimes you just jump and hope it's not a cliff ( henry ) #;;i was born to run i don't belong to anyone ( june ) #;;everybody stares as she goes by 'cause they can see the flame that's in her eyes ( nora ) #;;it's so empty living behind these castle walls ( martha ) #;;you can just...feel ( nick ) #;;and sings a solitary song that whistles in the wind ( lucy ) #;;and bring on all the pretenders i'm not afraid ( james ) #;;not gone just lost ( nate ) #;;au contraire mon frère ( mae ) #;;and i'll be holding all the fines ( JJ ) #;;second star to the right and then straight ahead 'til morning light ( wendy ) #;;no one decides my fate but me ( belle ) #;;someday maybe all my dreams will be repaid ( ryan ) #;;i wanna listen to my own heart talking ( troy ) #;;that's how superheroes learn to fly ( winn ) #;;my shower head is very impressed with me ( ricky ) #;;i haven't heard anyone try that since the noughties ( roxy )

[mymegumi]

SEASONALLY YOURS ෆ KAMO CHOSO

⠀ warnings: potentially ooc!choso (i dont rlly write for him:()

choso doesn’t really enjoy the winter.

he hates wearing big clunky shoes, and his doc martins don’t have any sort of grip to resist the icy streets when he has to walk places. sometimes, snow gets in his shoes and then he has to deal with terminally wet feet—of which the wrinkly little toe pads sketch him out and make him feel like he has to dry off as soon as possible. the snow melts in his hair and that means any sort of hairstyle has to be de facto shoved underneath a beanie. plus his ears get cold and he hates when his ears get cold.

there’s a few perks, like driving around and looking at christmas lights, and the late night first snow walks he loves taking—everything is so serene and untouched by humanity it makes his chest ache with the peacefulness.

he feels as though the winter cold seeps into his bones, chilling him to his core until he can’t seem to get warm. he could be standing in front of a fire and still the winter’s winds would find a way to him. he hates it. he hates being cold.

he supposes winter isn’t so bad because he met you one wintery night.

he’d been taking a slow first snow walk when he happened upon you. you were in the middle of the street, splayed on your back and making snow angels. you had your eyes closed and you just seemed so at ease, so in tune with the falling snow that he thought he had imagined you. the sound of the snow crunching underneath his feet had made you open your eyes lethargically, as if there was anything else you’d rather be doing.

you had smiled at him, all teeth and gums and sugary sweet happiness that he had instinctively smiled back. motioning to the space beside you, he had laid down and made his very first snow angle. he hadn’t worried about his hair until after you pointed at it and giggled over the way it was skewing wildly. watching you laugh, he had blurted out that he wanted to see you again and the shy smile that spilled across your face was worth all the embarrassment in the world.

and, he thinks, maybe winter is so bad but, spring isn’t any better to him.

the wintery snows melt into warm soggy rains and he hates tracking mud through the house. it’s a pain to clean every day, and he just wishes the raining would stop because his hair is always soaked when he goes anywhere, perpetually cursed to have bad hair. the spring storms are more tame than the summer ones, but he dreads the feeling of ice cold rain stinging through his clothes. the pollen is getting worse, too, and his allergies act up in such a way that his nose is constantly stuffed and it feels as though he’ll never breathe normally again.

the budding cherry blossoms and tiny, fragile blooms of flowers make him feel hopeful. hopeful for the future and brighter days and sunnier skies.

he supposes that one shining day is better than the rest in spring, as a year after you’d been together with choso, you’d moved in together.

he’s never lived with anyone but his brothers, and itadori—but he was a brother for lack of a better word. so he’s scared that his unusual oddities are going to be jarring and spook you like a shy stray cat.

but the first night he splays out on the couch, legs sprawled over the back of the couch and head draped over the seating area, he is delightfully surprised when you copy his motions. you complain that you’re getting lightheaded and end up back in a normal seated position, but lean down and press a kiss to his lips and tell him to be careful. he blames the red cheeks on the blood rush to his head. in the morning, you tease him for his snoring and he blames the spring pollen.

choso supposes he has a good memory to hold onto spring.

the days turn longer, the night hours slowly slipping away to daylight and choso finds himself restless.

choso despises summer for taking away the lonely nights. he finds solace in the dark, shadowy places he can tuck himself into when he feels as if the world is looking at him too long.

he closes the curtains tight, and cuts out the sunlight when he can. he sweats through his shirts and there’s a level of frizz happening to his hair that he thinks is just innately criminal and wants to absolutely obliterate the sun and the humidity and the stupid warm summer rains that make him uncomfortable in his own skin. he showers daily, and still it feels like the grime of the day sits on his skin and he has to scrub and scrub and scrub just to feel even slightly clean. the first time you catch him rubbing his skin raw, you hold him in the shower as tears fall down his cheeks like the shower’s water down his back.

after his showers, you always press a kiss to his forehead and hold him close, gently braiding his hair so it’s out of his face and so it’s wavy by the time it dries. ‘you look so handsome when it’s this way,’ you had said once, and he’d never done his hair any other way since. occasionally he’ll style them in his usual two buns to keep his sweating hair from sticking to his neck, but sometimes he lets his hair down at home in the air conditioning and revels in the way you tease and curl it around your fingers.

choso wishes the summer nights were cooler, so he could press against you and fake complain that you’re sticking your cold feet in between his thighs. secretly, the feeling of being needed is more important than the split-second shock of cold.

and when the days begin to bleed into fall, he thinks those are his favorite days. he hates to be cliché or even close to mainstream, but fall is truly his favorite.

there’s a feeling of satisfaction in his chest when he can go out in just jeans and a hoodie, hand wrapped tightly around yours because your hands get so cold in the fall and you refuse to wear gloves. he loves the feeling of interlacing your fingers together and kissing the back of your hand, lips cool to the touch. choso is admittedly greedy for the feeling of you, the feeling of your skin against his and the cool breeze of your laugh against his neck and the smile you always, always have when you kiss him. choso has never known being greedy in this way.

the bright green summer leaves begin to brown and he curls into the reading nook with something new—a thriller, a murder mystery, a slightly above-averagely horny book, anything he can get his hands on.

fall is, objectively, his favorite.

the weather is ideal, somewhere between cold enough to pile on blanket after blanket at night and warm enough that he doesn’t feel as if he’ll turn into an ice sculpture in the foreseeable future. the landscape is so picturesque he feels as if looking at the mountains punches the air out of his lungs. he’s living in a painting and all he can do is awe and gawk and sputter about the unreal scenery he’s surrounded by.

he also loves fall because you love fall. it’s easy to love what you love because everything you enjoy is seamlessly a part of what makes you, you.

truthfully, he might like fall the most, but every season is good enough for him because he has you in all of them. as long as your by his side, he’d weather a million blizzards, sneeze as many times as he had to in spring pollen, and sweat through every shirt he owned. his love and devotion is soft and quiet but it’s always there. he will always be there for you.

#txt!writing #lowkey word vom lol #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jjk choso #choso kamo #choso x reader #choso #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso fluff #choso kamo x you #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x y/n #jjk fluff

[mikanotes]

HEART TO HEART

seo yul x gn!reader | 4.3k words

genre: mutual pining, soulmates au

warnings: mentions of death, injuries, and hypothermia. made up stuff for the sake of my little soulmate au and a lot of confusing explanations sorry! might be ooc i haven’t watched aos in a while. not fully proofread

synopsis: A careless mishap with a dangerous artifact leads Yul to unknowingly lose half of his soul, and unknowingly attempt to get it back.

author’s note: in my seo yul era again

There is so many sounds around Daeho. People talking, the sound of each syllable that leaves their lips, the sound of each breath they exhale, the sound of laughter echoing around walls and steps all around the city. There is nature, the wind passing through the leaves of each tree, the sound of water droplets falling along a waterfall, birds’ wings moving and stray cats jumping on roofs.

There is so many sounds around Daeho, yet you feel as if you cannot really hear any of them.

There’s a tornado around you— A storm. It is made of every sound and feeling and it swirls around but you cannot feel. It is like watching the world breaking apart but seeing it from another place.

Where are you really?

Your name echoes around you.

The sound of a voice, warm and familiar. Home. Yes, this must be home. The voice that holds you gently, brings you to peace and helps you stay alive.

“Come back.”

Seo Yul.

“You’re finally here!” Choyeon nearly cries, hurrying over to join her friends. Jang Uk, Seo Yul, and Park Danggu. She sighs and frantically looks around, as if checking if anyone could be watching, before leading them inside with a pull to Danggu’s hand.

“What happened? The maid said it was urgent.” Uk says calmly, clearly confused. Choyeon seems restless. Yul doesn’t want to think of the worst, because it could really be something that isn’t at all urgent. But there’s this slight hint of genuine fear in the girl’s eyes that makes him do it, think of the worst, even if for just a second.

“There’s… Something happened, they’re unconscious, and…” her words are clear but too fast to make sense and all that he catches is your name and the word unconscious. “It’s because I’m clumsy and all, but I really didn’t mean for this to happen—”

“Slow down.” Uk laughs in slight shock, “Unconscious?”

“What exactly happened?” Danggu steps in. The girl looks at him with arched eyebrows and upset painted all over her expression before she finally sighs and turns away.

“It’ll be easier if you see.” she says, then walks towards a more secluded part of the gardens near Songrim. It’s near a small lake and close to a large, abandoned study room. There’s bushes and flowers all around and it’s enough to make for a beautiful spot to get alone time. Or hide something.

Choyeon pushes the large doors open. The room really is abandoned. There’s old desks and chairs stacked at the sides and some of the windows have been left ajar. Yul coughs because of the dust the second he steps inside, before waving his hand around in the air and squinting. But then everyone stops in their tracks, so he looks at the center of the room and his eyes widen.

This might really be urgent.

“… What happened?” Yul finally speaks up for the first time since his arrival. He was fine with his friends asking questions because they were the same he had in mind— But the scene in front of him urges him to talk.

You’re standing up straight in the middle of the room, the fabric of your clothing flowing in every direction despite the clear lack of wind inside the room, your eyes are closed and you don’t look anywhere close to awake. The place is at a fairly normal temperature, but it’s like a storm has formed specifically around you, much colder than the rest. A striking red ribbon is held tightly between your fingers.

You seem so… Calm. Yul feels a discomforting chill running down his spine.

Choyeon sighs quietly, biting on her bottom lip while thinking. The silence that follows Yul’s question stretches out for a long while, everyone clearly trying to make sense of the sight in front of them. It seems clear the girl who knows anything about it is hesitant to speak. Yul moves a bit closer to her. “Choyeon. It’s okay.” he says softly. He tries to sound reassuring. She looks up at him and shakes her head. He frowns a little. “Jin Choyeon.”

“We can’t help if we don’t know how they ended up like this. Please get on with it.” Uk complains, though everyone present knows his tone is a bit more worried than it is irritated.

“They held the Soulmates’ Fabric.”

Yul tilts his head a little, puzzled. “Soulmates’…?”

“Fabric.” she repeats, then sighs. “It’s… To summarize it, it’s an artifact from the Jinyowon— The fallen lovers’ spirits possess it. People used this to check if their lover was their soulmate or not before a wedding. Two parties hold it, it’s… It’s a ribbon, and if they’re soulmates it will show the fabric of fate linking their pinkies.”

Yul glances at your hand and figures that’s the red ribbon in your hand. Such a small thing— It looks as if he could wrap it around his wrist maybe twice, like a bracelet. Cursed artifacts really are just anything.

Uk chimes in. “And if they’re not?”

“Nothing. The spirits just laugh in their faces.”

“And if only one person holds it?” Yul asks. Choyeon looks at him and gulps, before glancing away.

“Their soul is trapped in there.”

“And why… Did you even have this? Simple curiosity.” Danggu asks. Choyeon shrugs a bit dramatically and turns away. The man blinks a few times before his eyes widen in realization. He points his finger towards his own chest, “Us?!”

“Well, yes.”

Yul feels his patience wearing thin and closes his eyes to calm it. He looks at Choyeon, “How did they end up holding it?”

“It flew away from my grasp, they just tried grabbing it for me..” she says, holding up her hands— Covered by silk gloves, protecting her in a way you visibly weren’t blessed with. “The doors to this place were wide open so we ended up here.”

Yul glances at you and sighs. Something tells him solving this won’t be easy.

“How do we get their soul back in here?” Uk asks, pointing towards your body with his thumb.

Choyeon sighs, again. It’s clear she’d hoped to avoid this since her friends arrived, despite knowing she would have to say it if this was to be solved.

“Their soulmate needs to hold the other end of the fabric.”

“You’re kidding…”

“This could take ages.”

“I know!”

Yul can practically see how cold the storm around you is. He can practically feel the threat of death attached to your body, missing its soul. A vessel without a soul is bad news. Without its soul, the body does not take long to… Heavens, no. He takes a step closer to you and lets his friends’ arguing become background noise for a moment. You’re eerily still.

“Is it safe to move them?” he asks.

“I think, but the problem is more so actually managing to do it.” Choyeon replies, “The storm is stronger than you might think.”

Yul tries, anyway. He takes a step forward and moves his hands to hold you. His skin feels like it’s freezing the moment they enter the storm surrounding your figure, and it gets about ten times worse when he manages to grab ahold of your arms. The very fact that you’re enduring this makes him feel like he might lose his mind if they don’t find a way to stop it. He grinds his teeth and tries to pull, ignoring his friends telling him to quit it as well as the burning that the cold cuts him with, and keeps at it for at least thirty more seconds before he’s forced to stumble back.

This is bad, he thinks. He’d hoped your body wouldn’t be too affected by the cold because of its unnatural nature, but upon closer look, a lot of signs indicate you’re more than affected. Freezing much faster than a person ever should have been. Truly just a body with no soul.

Uk looks at him, hand firmly holding his shoulder after shoving him away from you. “You won’t have a hand to hold the fabric with, if you keep this up.” he says sternly. Yul glares a little and moves away from his hand.

“That would be a futile effort. I figure I’d only be trapping my soul, too.”

“I mean, would you?” Danggu asks, brows furrowing. The question is directed at Choyeon, now, who should clearly have more extensive knowledge on the whole thing, “Did the people who use this have to hold it at the exact same time or else one of them got trapped? That seems… Inconvenient.”

Choyeon shakes her head lightly and walks over to a table in the room. There, a large and old book about artifacts and customs sits on the surface. “There’s something they would recite. Like a… A spell. Or a poem, I think? I was too panicked to read all this, but… I think that’s what protected their souls from being taken if they weren’t linked to each other.” she explains, frantically going through the book. “But Yul is right. Since their soul is already trapped, him holding the fabric would only work if they’re sure to be soulmates.”

“Well, might as well try.” Uk scoffs, “Besides, who could it be if not Yul?”

The latter looks down and scoffs. His friends’ teasing on his very obvious fondness for you would usually not have much effect on him besides giving him mild embarrassment, but today it feels a bit different. The words sound sour to him in these circumstances.

“This might be life or death.” he says quietly, and repeats it louder when Danggu asks what he said. He looks up, “At this rate, their temperature will only continue to drop. They’ll be dead and frozen in less than a few hours.”

Choyeon makes a sound of discontentment and concern before speaking, “Isn’t that too precise?”

“Master Heo taught me enough to know this much. We all know this.”

An overbearing silence follows that statement. It’s hard to claim the teachings of Daeho’s best physician are wrong, and Yul is right, and it makes it all the more difficult to process. You are hanging in the air in the middle of a freezing storm and their chances of saving you are incredibly slim. Their hope is quick to slip away.

There has to be a way. Your soulmate could be worlds away, for all they know. Yul would be willing to set out on a quest to find whoever it could be and drag them back here if it came down to it, however he doesn’t have the privilege of having so much time. So, “Is there another solution?” he asks, gaze focused on Choyeon. 

He must look somewhat different because the girl’s eyes widen for a moment and she looks towards Uk. “Well,” she looks back at him, “Breaking almost any artifact would render it incapable of executing their usual magic, which means this one too… Probably.”

“We can’t base ourselves off a ‘probably’.”

“I— Just look in the stupid grimoire, then!”

So he does. He walks over to the book and lets Choyeon move aside before pressing his hands down over the edges of the pages. Soulmates’ Fabric, cursed souls, history, spell recital, remedies… There are only two pages on this artifact, which means all their solutions had to be hidden somewhere there. 

Or that there is not a solution.

“Why did our elders have to be so damn dramatic?” Uk sighs in annoyance, and conversation ensues behind Yul. He doesn’t bother keeping up with anything that’s said.

“Trust was especially important at the time.”

“Yeah? For their image and reputation?”

“Can’t be all too different from right now, then.”

The story of the Soulmates’ Fabric claims two souls reside in that ribbon, lovers who were doomed to never be together yet perished at each other’s side. Impossible to get this ribbon off their wrists, even in death— They cursed it, whether they meant to or not, and the piece of fabric could only be taken once their bodies had entirely vanished.

It then became a custom to see if the spirits approved, or rather, if they could confirm if lovers were meant to be before they could marry. One of the spirits known to be kind, and gentle with their approach— The other much angrier, still understandably bitter over their fate. It’s said if two are soulmates, the kinder one will tie the ribbon around their fingers. If not, the cruel one will mock them. However, the method growing to be seen as too much of a risk, the ribbon was sealed in the Jinyowon for years to follow.

Yul’s gaze moves around the page, looking over words about the way the custom used to go, the way people saved themselves, but he struggles to even find a single sentence about a situation similar to yours. He focuses on a specific part, which sounds a lot like a poem, though it isn’t the one he saw earlier to recite before the ritual.

If one foolish enough to be trapped all on their own,

Mind numbed by the illusions of the Eye of the Storm,

Only their lover may find a way to wake their heart,

Or curse themselves with our wrath dare they injure us a cut.

To the abyss and away from their love they will depart,

With us shall never part.

“Curse themself if they dare injure them with a cut?…” he mumbles to himself, eyebrows creasing in confusion. He takes a deep breath and rereads it ten times, then looks back at the story of the souls. It is said they couldn’t remove the ribbon from the lovers’ tied wrists even after their death. Lovers fated to be apart, tying themselves to die together if they can’t live together. Then…? His eyes widen in realization.

“I’ll hold it.” he says suddenly, turning around. The group startles and looks at him. “I’ll hold the fabric right now, but I need you to do something in case it goes awry.”

Danggu nods hurriedly. “Good, anything, because they’re freezing over here.” the blonde says, moving his hand away from your arm and clutching it with his other. It’s red from the cold.

Yul swallows thickly then takes a short breath. “If it goes wrong, I need one of you guys to cut the fabric with my swords.”

“What?”

He continues, “I think if someone cuts the fabric they’ll be cursed by the spirits, but it will free the one that’s trapped.” he explains calmly, and sees Uk scoffing in disbelief as he listens. “So if it comes down to it, cut it. With my swords. Make it known I’m the one willing to be cursed.”

“What happened to ‘we can’t go off a probably’?” Uk mimics, air-quoting him, “You only said you think. Not that you’re sure. And what if it curses us anyways?”

“You’re right. Making the situation worse isn’t something I’m willing to risk.” Yul says dismissively, unsheathing the swords at his sides. “I can cut it myself right now.”

A hurried chorus of ‘no!’s follows that statement and Danggu jogs up to his side.

“Okay, let’s just… talk first.” he says, and glances at you for a second before adding, “Fast.”

“What is there to talk about?” Yul asks.

“Well, what— What’s the deal with the curse? What does it entail? Why would it happen?” Choyeon questions, “I mean, it makes sense a spirit would want to curse the one who breaks their artifact, but what’s their reasoning?”

“It’s the only thing that kept them together. In death, when they couldn’t be together in life.” Yul says, “It’s nothing short of cruel to cut it. But it… is a way to solve this.”

“And what if you’re soulmates?” Uk asks, crossing his arms, “What if it could be solved much more easily?”

“And if we’re not?” Yul counters, expression hardening, “I don’t want to risk it.”

“We would be risking much, much more if we lose both of you to a ribbon.” Danggu argues.

“I’m sorry,” Yul starts, fingers tightening around one of his swords, “But you are not changing my mind on this. Try as you might.”

“Yul…”

The second sword drops to the floor as he lets it go and he uses the distraction of the sound to take the few steps needed to get to you again. Otherwise he knows Uk will stop him.

He steels himself for the incoming pain and grabs the fabric in your hand before he can overthink it more. He holds it tightly and hisses at the cold, but tries to pull to bring your arm higher. You’re like a statue. It’s almost impossible to get you to move at all. Frozen. The storm is beginning to surround him, a slow but sure sign of his soul being pulled somewhere away from his body— Though he has no way to know if it’s to the abyss of the fabric’s realm or simply to meet yours. He cannot afford to wait and see.

The cold rushes through his own blood the longer he remains there, and he’s sure that the cursed souls are too close to him to risk staying still any longer. 

He had planned to immediately strike his sword against the artifact the moment he would get a tight enough hold of it, but now that he’s there, it proves to be much more difficult than he’d anticipated. His body feels heavy and his heartbeat is so loud in his ears that he cannot hear his friends’ yelling.

No, this isn’t my heartbeat, he realizes, mine is hurting my chest from how fast it’s going.

It’s yours. You’re still alive.

He feels as if his fingers may be turning numb, and worse, his mind as well. If this keeps up, his stupid plan will have been for nothing and Danggu will be right. Losing both you and him. He doesn’t care about anyone losing him, but it cannot be for nothing. So he focuses, and he finds any bit of strength left in him. With a yell, he swings down his sword just as the words “I’m sorry” attempt to leave his lips. Pointless apologies to souls long gone.

It cuts right through the red piece of silk.

Clang. His hand goes limp and his sword falls.

He sees you fall to the ground before he feels his own body do the same. His head hits the wooden floor, hard, and he feels like he’s lost his breath for a few long seconds. He’s spent— He swears he doesn’t have any strength left in him at all, otherwise, he would have crawled to you to make sure you’re not frozen and dead. His arm is extended on the floor, his end of the ribbon in his hand, and the other in yours still. His sword is somewhere else in the room but he doesn’t know where.

He blinks slowly, trying his very best to stay awake, but it becomes incredibly difficult. The pain and exhaustion are begging him to succumb to sleep but he cannot allow it yet. He can vaguely make out words of worries from his friends, but everything sounds far away. He tries to move, but all he can do is tighten his fingers around the small piece of ribbon. A thought crosses his mind as he looks at it, something that makes him feel even more confused than the fall already did.

Other than the cold in his veins, that is slowly fading away, Yul cannot feel anything close to a curse on him.

Is it not immediate? Why has he not heard the resentful screams of anger of separated lovers? Why is he merely battling his way to staying awake and not out of a fate worse than death? Was the curse a mere myth, or the true struggle a test of strength and will?

Through a half-open and hazy gaze, Yul swears he sees something odd happening. The red silk ribbon, cut cleanly in the middle, beginning to reconstruct all on its own. Fabric made out of air, slowly growing longer from both ends of the torn bits until they inevitably meet again in the middle.

And a translucent red ribbon, like a vision of sorts, tying around both yours and his pinky fingers.

The individuals will, if truly soulmates, see the ribbon tying around their pinkies. The book must’ve been right, but severely missing information. It really is doing just that, but there was nothing written about it fixing itself after getting cut. Then again, there wasn’t a tale of anyone ever trying before.

Yul breathes out something close to a laugh just before he loses grip of his consciousness and passes out, unsure of where he will be when he wakes up— If he ever does. Whatever happens, as long as you’re alive, it will have been worth it.

When he opens his eyes, at first, he’s in a dark space and laying down. He hears whispers and feels energies threatening enough to make him reach for his swords— But he finds he cannot move.

“Was there ever a curse to begin with? Tales this old are riddled with truths and details lost to time.” a voice says, and it seems to echo— Like two people are speaking, “What do you believe?”

— I don’t know.

“You were merely getting the missing half of your soul back. Who would curse you for such a thing?” the voice (voices?) laugh, “It seems clear they would’ve done the same, too.”

When he opens his eyes, the second time, it’s for real and he’s gasping for air. I was spared, he thinks. He sits up hurriedly and looks around, his head spinning so much at the sudden movement that he threatens to fall from the table he’s on. 

Table?

“Please do not move so quickly!”

He breathes heavily and looks around through half-lidded eyes. He’s at Sejukwon. He looks to the side and sees you on the second table in the room. You’re sitting already as a nurse fixes up an incense of sorts, and your eyes are trained on him— Wide and surprised. “Yul!” you exclaim, “What in the world?”

He just stares at you for a bit, lips parted without a single word coming out. “Are you okay?” he asks. There’s clear signs all around him that he really woke up, this time around, and that this is reality. But part of him wants to hear you to be sure. 

“You…” you sigh, closing your eyes for a moment. Then you give him a look of disbelief that makes it clear the others have told you about what he did to get you back— and that this really is for real. He feels his mouth tugging into a smile and his body relaxes again. 

“One could argue you’re worse than I am, you fool.” you scoff, “I’m… Well, I almost died of hypothermia, alright. That’s a feat. But I survived.” you deadpan, eyebrows furrowed, “However you have a concussion.”

He wouldn’t have it any other way. “Good.” he says.

“Not good, are you insane?”

He finds himself laughing at that and slowly lays back down, because he seriously thinks he might fall over if he doesn’t. He doesn’t mind the worried look the nurse gives him as she leaves when he continues to laugh, either. He’ll say it’s because of the concussion. He’s just relieved.

“Oh, so you really are insane.” you scoff.

A silence follows. He looks at you. You’re staring at him with a look of relief, which makes him wonder how much you worried while he was out. It’s past sunset already, so the room is slowly losing its light. Things are quiet around Sejukwon— They always are so the patients aren’t disturbed, but even more so when it’s later in the day. There’s no more worries.

Only thoughts about what happened means for you.

He calls your name and you hum. “Did they tell you?” he asks quietly, almost whispering, “The others.”

“About your heroic tales of saving?“ you half-joke, “Yes. They did, before leaving because it got late. Thank you.” this time, your voice loses its sarcasm halfway. Your expression is much too genuine for those thanks to sound anything but, anyways. He laughs.

“I meant the ribbon. What it meant.”

“We’re soulmates.”

Yul has to make an effort to breathe. You say it so easily, like it’s such a natural thing. And it… is. You are literally meant to be, it could not be anything more natural. In a way, it could make sense you would be so casual about it. But he also feels like he might be close to fainting all over again from how much these words make his head spin, so he can’t entirely agree that it does.

“Yes.” he pauses, to breathe, “That.”

“You don’t sound happy.”

“Please don’t tease me.”

You laugh slightly and get up from where you were sitting. You walk over to him and stand at his side. He stares up at you and smiles. “I’m happy.” he says, “I’m happier than I probably should be considering the circumstances.”

“Good. Me too.” you say, then your expression grows more serious. “I’m sorry you had to suffer this much to bring me back.”

“It’s okay.”

“I know it is. That’s your problem, Yul.”

“It is, isn’t it?” he chuckles, “Unfortunate that our souls are linked. I’ll try not to inconvenience you more than necessary, but I can’t do much about that.”

“Your nature of putting your life on the line for someone you care about, you mean?” you scoff, “I’ve been used to it, anyways. But the way you say this makes it all sound very official.”

Here comes his worst fear. An exaggeration? Maybe. Not entirely. He’s spent years at your side, and well over half of them pining after you. And though it was apparently evident to anyone that saw you two that the feelings were reciprocated, saying anything about them was terrifying. But now you’re soulmates. Or rather, you’ve always been. It doesn’t actually change anything. 

But it does give him the guts to actually ask. This is as much courage as he’ll ever get, anyways. So he sits up and stays quiet for a moment, then turns to look at you.

“Would you like to be with me?”

#seo yul x reader #yul x reader #alchemy of souls x reader #aos x reader #x reader

[sojuyae]

illusion of the heart

summary: he's aware and restless, what delusion shall he make this time?

pairing: chuuya nakahara / f! reader

notes: self indulgent, not proofread, smut suggestive themes and angst, yandere themes, unrequited feelings, ooc chuuya, unhealthy relationships, soulmate au (in a form of matching marks eehkhk) , in a way... i think its also fwb? not proofread as always haha

by clicking read more you are consenting to read mature themes :3

Chuuya’s love story is foolish.

Utterly so.

Because there is a firm distinction between making foolish decisions — to act without taking into account the consequences — no prior judgement, and considering making a senseless decision — to proceed despite knowing the risks.

He falls in the class of the latter.

However, from his perspective, even in the absence of certainty and faith in essentially an ounce of reciprocated love, there is still the consent you have given him to hold you.

Despite the mark that adorns your neck, one that does not match his.

Inside the dim room, it reeks of sex as the moonlight shamelessly gleams on the film of sweat coating both of your foreheads.

“Chuuya — hn —” A shrill moan cuts through your words, causing Chuuya to stop in his ministrations, he breathes softly, pecking your lips a few times, in an effort to reassure you. The softness of it all makes your chest squeeze.

“‘S okay, mn, I got you.” He mumbles against your lips.

With eyes hazed by gratifying lust, your hand languidly reaches for his cock, guiding it to your core — an embarrassed plead of “Please,” driving him over the edge.

Chuuya wastes no time fulfilling your request; his tip grazing your entrance.

But he does not put it in, what a sadistic bastard, he enjoys the way your face contorts into one of desperation. Your moans devoured by his abused lips, the shade of a darker color, derived from the groans he held back by biting them. Not that he’s embarrassed of it — not with how your walls try so hard to easily accommodate his girth.

His hand grasps your own in an attempt mimic of lover’s intertwined hands — a gesture meant to symbolize love between two people, and he, out of all people should know that you both are nothing like that —

Your unoccupied hand weakly reaches for his hair. Grasping the soft tresses tightly. Pull. Hurt. Purge him out of his feelings. Let this unkind relationship end.

He loves it, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

(A kiss so tender, so unnatural, something only the right person deserves.)

“‘S okay.” With words starting to slur together, his eyes drift to where you are connected, and watches as slick sticks to him every time he pulls out, slowly drenching the bedsheets.

He sheaths himself fully, and pain is slowly contorted into one of pleasure.

Tears form on your eyes, some cling to your eyelashes, while a few fountains down your cheeks, leaving a warm trail that is promptly countered with Chuuya’s fingers brushing it away. A hiccup erupting from your lips. The delicate pads of his thumbs brushing against your skin reminds you of a cat's delicate lick against their young felines head, pure — absent of any and all hidden intentions.

Ah, he must have mistook your tears as a reaction to the pain that came with the sheer pleasure of his cock stretching you whole. It’s not like you blame him for thinking so, not anyone can see clearly not with how the dim the room is — the light has always been off every nightly rendezvous you both have, as per his request.

What he doesn’t know is that you’re crying because of the unfairness of it all.

Because this is a cruel relationship where, if either of you interferes with the equilibrium between this liaison you both made, the whole bond will fall apart. Where a strong gust of wind — his sentiments — could profoundly impact and crumble it down.

You’re scared that once the string that has been holding up the relationship, at long last snaps and you’d be forced to face his feelings.

It would have been better if he were like the men your friends warn you about. If he were like men that once they get a taste of something sapid, the desire and greed devours them entirely. If only he doesn’t make sure that you feel safe and secure after the vulnerability you showed him. If only he doesn’t hold you close — if only — if only he didn’t cherish you.

If only this classified as something ‘messing around until we find our soulmates.’ his words, not yours.

But he does, and there is nothing you could do about it.

Almost as if Chuuya read your thoughts, like he doesn’t want you to think about it anymore — he sheaths himself inside you again and ruts his hips forward.

Don’t think about it anymore; he offers no words, but the eyes are the windows of the soul and that's exactly what's his are saying. Think of me — think of this instead.

His cerulean eyes wander to your neck, zeroing on the ‘dirty’ streak that he believes what causes you both anguish. The gravitation pull of the unnatural mark is so intense that he cannot find himself to tear away his gaze.

A soulmate mark, shape and color so unlike his. 

Chuuya bites his lips, causing his already swollen lips to bleed. 

He wraps his hands around your neck — and squeezes.

That night, Chuuya decided — that if his mark does not match yours, then he might as well cover you with ones he’ll make.

In the dimness of his room, he leaves makes sure that every skin that he trails is marred by his kisses — so much so that you’re scared that it’s something that any amount of concealer won’t be able to cover, and he hopes it can’t.

#bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bsd #yandere bungo stray dogs #yandere chuuya #yandere chuuya nakahara #chuuya nakahara x reader #yandere x reader #poor chuuya #if i ever make a part 2 who do u guys want the soulmate 2 be #rubs hands deviously

[infranthrax]

a memory is being recorded… hold on… ✨

𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐔

neuvillette x gn! reader

synopsis || as the spring nears its peak, neuvilette is once again coddled by the melusine to take a break from his work. little does he know that this break would land him in inazuma… but for what reason?

disclaimer // might be ooc— first time writing for neuvi.

word count :: 2.5k words

spring— the time of year in which the flowers bloom back, the grass turns green, and the weather briskly warms as the colder days of winter slowly come to an end. fontaine is beautiful during all times— seasons irrelevant. the icy lakes are prefect for ice skating, the trees are at their most vibrant during autumn. but one thing is for sure… neuvillette is about to witness something he’s surprisingly never seen before.

in late march, spreading out into may, inazuma has a floral celebration dubbed hanami, in which the cherry blossoms bloom. starting in the southern regions of the island, and blooming northbound, the trees are a sight to behold. during this time, inazuma becomes a popular tourist attraction as the peaceful nature of the said cherry blossoms is quite the peaceful experience. the people of inazuma gather in parks underneath the trees, accompanying the blossoms’ petals as some shed when they bloom, flowing delicately in the wind as the parks’ visitors enjoy small snacks with tea, card games, and overall, a tranquil time viewing the cherry blossoms.

and you always make time to visit inazuma during this part of the year. you’re making your way to a park with a blanket and a basket in tow, along with your floating friend, paimon, who’s just as eager as you, yet with a slight sarcastic edge. floating beside you however, they smile playfully. “paimon never understands why you come here every year— we’ve seen the flowers dozens of times.” they would say in their high pitched voice. you would turn to them and smile. “i know. but i never grow tired of it, no matter how many times i celebrate.” “oh well…” paimon sighs as you make your way to a park.

this park was right by yoimiya’s firework shack, about half a mile or so away. it was a little hilly, nothing to worry about though, the uneven terrain is nothing to you. you set your stuff down and settle into your spot, which you had previously designated, away from the crowds of people that would eventually form later on in the afternoon. prepping your basket next to you, you feel a set of eyes on you that aren’t paimon’s. a feeling of unease settles into your chest… and then it goes away. nevertheless, you look around, and over to your right, not so far away, you see a man with long, silvery shiny white hair and delicate cerulean feather like horns that fall down behind him. you knew that color scheme from anywhere. he probably saw you and his eyes lingered for a bit too long.

“monsieur neuvillette? he’s here?!” paimon shouted, quite surprised. upon hearing his name, he looked towards you and paimon, before you blinked and smacked them on their small shoulder with your two fingers. he flashed you a small smile, covering it up with the back of his hand. a flash of pink spread across your cheeks— not out of fluster, rather slight embarrassment. “go say hi, go say hi!” paimon would pester as they would push at your back to try and get you up on your feet. you would grow even more embarrassed at this, and reject their words, “paimon, no—“

“go say hi to him!”

“no, stop that crap!”

“oh come on, traveler! get your butt up there and talk to him!”

“I don’t wanna! stop it, paimon I swear to the archons—“

“you scaredy cat! you scaredy scaredy cat! paimon knows you like him!”

“no— no i don’t paimon, what the hell???”

neuvillette spectates this scene before him of you trying to push paimon away, despite their restless pestering, and finds slight amusement in it. he chuckles to himself, stifling his sounds with the back of his hand and a closed mouth. it may not seem like it but sometimes, he’s actually happy to see you. the poor guy just doesn’t know how to go about showing it at times. his formal rigidness takes grip of his rare social interactions as he prefers to be alone, but… he can’t help himself. he removes his hand from his mouth and takes in a breath, calming himself and bringing his calm composure back to the forefront.

“traveler,” you hear his crisp voice being carried by the spring wind. all commotion comes to a swift halt as he speaks, as if to quell the chaos. he is the ludex, after all— one that is tasked to keep order and justice. almost like a title that follows him everywhere he goes, the air of him being strict, yet merciful and calm— elegant… beautiful… you slowly blush in your thoughts, as his voice takes your brain and wraps it up in a pretty, light glaucous ribbon. you see his mouth move, and you hear him, but you don’t process him.

“traveler,” he calls out about two more times before he sighs to himself and walks towards you, abandoning his space on the ground. he snaps his fingers in front of your face as he tip toes behind you. this makes you jump and fall back, to which neuvillette catches you before your back hits his feet. helping you to a stand, he kind of dusts your shoulders a bit with a meek little smile plastered on your face.

“Are you alright? You seemed to space out for a second, I thought you had been seeing something.” Quickly blinking, you stuttered over your own breath, making you sputter out a throat clearing cough or two. paimon playfully pushes at the back of your shoulder, wasting no time to push a response up out of your mouth, “i… i’m alright! yes… yes, I was just… surprised to see you here is all. i didn’t think you’d be interested in things like this.” he smiles a little, being slightly entertained by your nervousness. “Don’t you remember when I told you that I plan on traveling the world sometime?”

it took you a minute, but you did remember that. he did tell you that once. you felt like an idiot— a bumbling, babbling, idiot. you knocked on your head softly. “Yeah— duh, i remember… haha..” you let out another nervous giggle, feeling your cheeks warm up as he steps in front of you. out of instinct, you step toward him as paimon floats in back. “would you like to walk with me a bit? i admit, it would be nice to catch up with you.” you looked back at paimon, who giggled a bit behind their tiny hands. pouting at them, you gave them a bit of a playful glare, but you were interrupted when they turned you back around. “of course, monsuier neuvillette! they would love to join you for a walk! don’t worry, traveler— you can trust me to guard our little space while you are away!”

you hesitated and tried to speak, but every time you would, paimon would be there to cut you off at every syllable, gently pushing you along with neuvillette as he walked with you. “don’t you fret, traveler, you go and have fun!~ go have fun!!~” the little floater chirped happily as they shoved you away finally, and you looked at neuvillette, which he simply smiled at you… a calm, gentle smile. you walked with him as you both wandered around through the empty part of the park that he put himself in, past his designated spot. there was a river close to where he sat himself, a walkway with a bridge built above the water. the river’s path was surrounded on each side with cherry blossoms that were already in full bloom, harmonizing with the gentle breeze. you both walked the bridge, at first in silence.

“hey, neuvillette?” you finally spoke up against the wind that softly blew in your faces. he hummed, acknowledging you. his purplish, iridescent eyes looked beautiful in the soft light of the slowly setting sun— like a hazy purpley blue. they looked towards you, draconic slit the pupils a pure white within that beautiful sea of light plum iridescence. “other than your desire to travel, what brought you to inazuma?”

neuvillette stopped when you both were midway across the bridge and looked out to the river ahead of him. standing where you had stopped, your eyes followed his form as his body partially leaned against the frame of the bridge. his hair and skin glowed to what looked like a golden sheen when reflected by the gentle ripples of the water. “the melusines were trying to get me out again. they were saying something about a festival in inazuma, and they figured it would be a good time for me to ‘take a break,’ as they said.” you nodded, and walked over to his spot on the bridge, leaning next to him. he smiled down at the water that calmly babbled underneath the bridge, flowing and rippling up over the rocks. the wind had picked up for a brief moment, catching his hair and yours. cherry blossom petals started to shed from the trees surrounding the two of you, floating by delicately in the soft current of the breeze. it was truly a breathtaking sight— one that shouldn’t be wasted away. “it’s good to get away sometimes, you know? it’s never a good thing to remained cooped up with your work all day, every day. i understand you have a job to fulfill as the ludex of fontaine, but,” you stop yourself out of fear of overstepping. he looks at you with a blink of his dark, thick eyelashes, his lips gently parting. your eyes meet and you could feel your cheeks slowly glow into a dark crimson. my my, what to say now? swallow yourself— you’ll be okay. you clear your throat, stifling away your stammer, “but… it’s always good to… to step back… you know?” you asked him endearingly. he looked at you for a minute, sitting in silence. neuvillette has always had the flaw of not being able to properly read human emotion, as he is unfamiliar with the concept of humans to begin with. but, one thing is clear— he’s been around you long enough for him to be able to understand you.

and you know that well enough too, don’t you?

he held your tone in his head, slowly forming a small smile on his lips as he stood up straight, turning towards you and… patting your head. that’s what humans do right? to show their admiration? he let his gloved hand softly ruffle on the top of your head, before a few cherry blossom petals got stuck on the frame of your face. he blinked at this and went to straighten your hair back out, clearing it of the cherry blossom petals. you smiled cheekily at him, letting out a small laugh as his hand leaves your head. he returns your smile…

the air is getting sweet between the two of you, isn’t it?

“oh… i remember, i made you something as a thank you for your gift at the lantern rite.” you tugged at your messenger bag that you had been wearing, opening it and pulling out what looked to be an hour glass. each side of the our glass looked like an otter on each side holding the bottoms of the two glasses, and the glass on the bottom was filled with water with a slight blue tint to it with a hint of glitter to mimic how water glistens in the sun. you flipped it around a few time to show him, and then he slowly took it from you. looking at the hour glass, he smiled a bit. “did you make this?” you nodded, gripping at the strap of your bag that laid tenderly against your form.

“i made it to—“

“i apologize, i must interrupt,” neuvillette says softly, putting the hourglass in his pocket. that smile of his is truly infectious— a beauty with no flaws. you blinked as a few petals tangled themselves in his hair due to the wind making them collide with him. “I understand that, while i believe it may be customary, it is not necessary… you are enough for today, and i would like to remind you that i appreciate you, and all you have done.” you look at him with stars glittering in your eyes as your cheeks once again flush. a giddy smile messily plasters itself on your face as you take both of his hands in yours, a move that leaves the hydro dragon quite startled at the sudden action, yet it wasn’t unfavorable. it felt quite nice actually.

“thank you, traveler..” he clears his throat as his cheeks give off a pale flush. he’s not used to people being this close to him with the exception of furina, and even then he still didn’t like his bubble invaded, however this invasion didn’t leave him with a sense of discomfort, but a warm feeling… a nerve wracking feeling, like butterflies flying amok in a field, all up in his gut. autopilot took over your mind as you acted out of desire with no strings attached, getting up on your toes while using his hands for leverage, his arms stiff as you boost yourself up.

a kiss.

you kissed him— the hydro dragon.

he was shaken, sure, but he slowly returned it, caving in and holding you close. you used his coat for leverage as you attempted to keep yourself leveled with his towering height. his lips were cool to the touch, yet they were so soft and light, his touch airy and delicate, purity in his form. it was like magic, this moment. you pulled away after a short while, moving one of your hands to clear his silvery hair of the flower petals still tangled in. with a smile, you let out a calm exhale…

but… hey, was that the sound of a camera shuttle?

you turned to see your floating fairy friend holding your camera in their hands with a mischievous smirk, bouncing up and down in the air as they giggled to themselves as the photo they snapped slowly processed out of the camera. a little polaroid— one that seemed giant to them. you looked at paimon and your eyes widened. looking back at neuvillette, you saw him immediately pull away with a deep blush spreading across his cheeks like a tide, retaining his normal air of modesty. turning to the small, floating entity that was looking at the photo, paimon looked back at you and their eyes widened.

“oh… oh, you look angry…”

“if the archons can put the fear of celestia in you, so can i.”

there was a sudden pause, before you started to chase after paimon as they floated away quickly, polaroid still intact in their grip. amongst the cussing and the shouting and the teasing that erupted from you and paimon, slowly fading off into the distance, neuvillette watched you run off as he took the hourglass out of his pocket, shook it gently, and flipped it into his other hand, watching the glittery water fall into the bottom— trickling down like a tap. he smiled, and watched it, sighing through his nose as the petals blew around him. setting the hourglass down on the bridge’s arm, he leaned over closer to it.

maybe… getting out wasn’t so bad after all.

#📍|| infra is logging… #genshin impact #memory bank #quick access #files application #neuvillette #neuvilette genshin #genshin x reader #neuvilette x reader

[hyperfixatedfandomer]

Spider & déjà blue road trip headcannons

I already said I’m on a road trip so here you go 👀 might be heavily OOC bc I’m tired

.

When Spider found out that he’s getting dragged on a road trip with his bio dad, uncles and aunt, he was not excited. First of all, because they’re likely a bunch of uncool, overly strict marines and second because they’re grown ups 🙄 but custody is custody, so he has no choice.

Mansk had a van, so they use it to travel during this trip.

The kid had no idea what he was getting into, but neither did the déjà blu.

Quaritch

Goes full mother hem mode, prepares for any contingency. Has two first-aid kits, all sorts of camping equipment and even some hidden firearms (Spider doesn’t know about the latter and it’s best it stays that way)

Packed lunches and snacks for Spider!.

Drives the car and talks about sports, fishing and hunting with Lye who’s one seat behind. He later moves to sit next to him when blondie becomes way too hyperactive for him to handle.

Spider will be back though, because Eywa knows this man is ancient and needs help working through Google maps so the squad actually gets somewhere this weekend.

Yells at passengers in the backseats when they get too loud.

Shares an earbud with Spider at one point, to drown out the snores and listens to indie with him ☺️ doesn’t want to admit it, but thinks his son’s playlist is low-key a bomb. They sing the lyrics quietly while the others sleep.

(Pssst, the song they’re vibing to:

Spider

Is restless. He needs movement and sitting in a car is the exact opposite of that. Needless to say, keeping him occupied is quite difficult.

First several hours, he’s content to listen to music while looking out the window, drawing in his sketchbook or watching YouTube, but he’s itching to do something and the backseat seems much more fun, with loudly Z-dog and Lopez are talking.

Getting teased and firing back at them busies him some more, but he has to eventually come back to the front seat to argue with Miles about what roads to take and how to work the gps on his phone.

“See??? It’s saying that the road is closed!”

“Where the hell is it written!?”

“THERE! There’s an icon of some guy digging, that means road work ahead!”

“Well I sure damn how it does!”

“OH MY— DAD I SWEAR TO EYWA—”

Buys silly keychains and charms on every stop to add to an ever growing collection on his locker key, that he can then use to jingle as to further annoy the adults or get their attention.

Lyle

Provides Miles witch a company while he’s stuck trying to entertain Spider.

Proceeds to bore Spider to sleep by talking about fishing.

Takes over driving when Quaritch is too tired and has an hour long back and forth with the kid, exchanging sarcasm and making him cringe with his puns (yes, he’s the dad pun uncle, you can’t change my mind)

Pays for Spider’s keychains.

Zdog

Shares her row in the van with Lopez because they’re both high energy menaces.

Stole some of Spider’s snacks.

“Hey, hey, Spidey”

“Ugh what?”

“Ok so who do you think would win, a silverback gorilla OR a grizzly bear??”

She’s on the side of the bear, and Spider bands with her, arguing with Lopez for hours about which of the animals would kick the other’s ass.

Braids Spider’s hair when she gets bored and the kid ends up rocking Viking braids for the rest of their trip.

Lopez

Is on the side of the gorilla and borderline disowned the two he shares his seat with after hours of arguing and trying to prove to them that the monke is superior because it has a bigger brain and hands ☝️

“What the fuck is the monkey going to do to a grizzly???”

“It can use tools! Make itself a badass battle axe, like in Godzilla vs king-Kong!!”

Takes Spider’s snacks from Zdog and munches her stolen goods right in front of her.

Mansk

Mansk provided the transport, so he’s content to rest in the back of the car with Ja, who, together with him is the calmest out of the squad.

Mostly just stares out the window, listens to music or sleeps.

However, will absolutely grill whatever fish Lyle catches during the trip. He hasn’t brought grilling equipment for nothing!

Offered to sit in the middle row so he could dampen the chaos of Lopez, Z and Spidey but they declined. He’ll have to get better earplugs next time.

Ja/Alexander

The second mother hen of the group. Asked everyone a billion times if they packed everything they needed, and brought a med-kit of his own.

Is the one to disinfect Spider’s knees when he scrapes them while climbing rocks near the parking lot. He’s not a big talker, but has a softer vibe than Mansk.

Pampers Spider just a bit. Gives him his snacks when Z-dog steals them, offers him water and so on. The more subtle details that Quaritch or Spider himself may miss.

#Spotify #atwow #atwow recoms #avatar recoms #avatar way of water #atwow headcanons #atwow spider #spider atwow #spider socorro #spider avatar #avatar spider #avatar #avatar 2 #avatar quaritch #avatar headcanons #recom quaritch #miles quaritch #avatar lyle #lyle wainfleet #avatar zdog #recom zdog #avatar lopez #recom lopez #recom squad #recom ja #recom mansk

[frenchfrywrites]

Kinktober Day Ten

Sickness

MINORS DNI

warnings: dom(ish) amab gn sick reader, bratty/kinda sub Che'nya, blowjob, sickness, snz, kinda ambiguous relationship, possibly ooc che'nya

"Hello-ooh!," Che'nya pauses mid greeting as his gaze lands on your bedridden figure. "You look nasty!" he giggles, flopping onto your bed, next to your sickly frame. You're propped up in your bed, feeling absolutely awful, and evidently looking the part.

You groan, reaching for a tissue, and sneezing into it. "Gee thanks," you murmur halfheartedly, sounding as stuffed up as you feel. Che'nya hums, joining you on the bed and wiggling into your personal space, resting his head on your shoulder. "Who even let you in?" you ask.

"You left a window open," he explains, reaching out to touch your forehead. "No fever," he muses, touching the rest of your face, just because he can.

"What do you want, Che'nya?" you practically moan, because even though you're too sick to deal with his typical shenanigans, his cool hands feel impossibly nice on your flushed face.

"Hm, I came here to mess with you," his hand drifts from your face to your chest, slipping under your shirt, "but now I'm feeling maternal or something." You give him a puzzled look, and note the growing blush working itself along his cheeks.

"What, like you wanna take care of me?" you ask. Che'nya thinks about it, then nods.

"Yeah," his hand wanders, his cool fingers drifting across your stomach, then winding around your hip. "Can I make you feel better?" he asks, and is that a hint of desperation you hear?

You laugh softly, then sneeze, turning your face so you don't get any snot or spit on him. Che'nya is staring at you with his big yellow eyes, unblinking, when you turn back.

"Fine," you huff, and if you thought he was invading your personal space before, as soon as you permit him to take care of you Che'nya is practically glued to you.

His hands wander again, from your hips, to your stomach, to your chest, and then back down again. "What can I do?" he asks sweetly, batting his lashes at you.

You think about it for a moment, and he gets restless, rutting his hardening cock against your thigh.

"Suck me off?" you eventually muse. Che'nya purrs, leaning in to kiss you sweetly before making himself comfortable between your legs, moving so fast it takes your brain an embarrassingly long time to catch up.

He pulls down your sweatpants and you sniffle, shivering when the cool air hits your body.

Che'nya takes you in his hand, stroking you to full hardness. You place your hands on his head, tucking his hair behind one of his ears, and scratching gently behind it. Che'nya purrs, nuzzling his face into your thigh, his tail swishing and flicking happily.

He licks you from base to tip before swallowing you down his throat. You moan, then cough at the sensation, sniffling but trying so hard to focus on his mouth on you rather than how shitty you feel.

Che'nya stares up at you as he sucks and swallows around you, before pulling off and then descending on you once again, bobbing his head slowly.

"S'good," you groan, your voice itching your throat, and causing you to cough again. Che'nya hums, batting his lashes playfully at you. "You're making me feel good sweetheart," you praise, tugging his hair gently. He moans at that, gurgling just a bit around your length, drool dripping down his chin.

He sucks you off with ease, pulling off occasionally to suck on your balls as he strokes your cock. Between sneezes, sniffles, and the occasional cough, you praise and moan, running your fingers through his hair.

"You gonna cum soon?" Che'nya eventually asks, kissing your shaft as he rubs your sticky tip with his thumb.

"Hah, maybe," you huff, tugging his hair as a warning. Che'nya giggles,

"Sorry, I didn't mean to rush you, it's just," he pauses to lick away a bit of pre that leaks from your tip, "I want you to cum on my face is all," he finishes. You groan, knocking your head back against the pillow propped under your head.

"Fuck, yeah, okay I'm— I'm close," you warn, your orgasm creeping up on you out of nowhere. Che'nya grins from ear to ear, his tail swishing happily as he strokes you faster. He drops his mouth open, and the next moment you're cumming. It's intense, one of those toe curling, mind numbing, you don't even know what noise you just made type orgasms. Che'nya will be smug about it for months.

As soon as your cock stops spurting rope after rope of cum onto Che'nya's face and tongue, you sneeze. You just barely have the wherewithal to turn your head and cover your face, effectively getting snot all over the inside of your elbow.

"Ugh, god," you groan, feeling achy all over now that the excess dopamine you'd received from your climax is dying down.

"Nasty," Che'nya coos, kissing your soft cock once, before his hands disappear. They return with a washcloth, so he can clean his face first. Then, in a soberingly sweet and gentle moment, Che'nya carefully cleans the snot from your arm, and under your nose.

"Thanks," you whisper, in awe of the kindness he's showing you. Che'nya hums, but it sounds more like a soft meow to you, and snuggles up next to you.

"Feel better?" he asks, kissing your neck. You nod, not trusting your voice. "Good, I'll stay with you until you're all better, yeah?" and of course you nod again, because it'd kill you to push him away.

#spice #kinktober/2023 #cw sickness #sub che'nya

[hiddenwashington]

the halloween ball is in full swing, and the white house is full of music and laughter. children are bouncing around with more sugar in their systems than they’ve had in a long while, and the adults are dancing the night away and indulging in a few drinks. it’s become much more of a carefree party than a formal ball, and everyone is clearly having a wonderful time the longer the night goes on.

at the stroke of midnight, however, everything changes. the lights flicker, and an ominous wind blows through the room, slamming doors shut around the guests and extinguishing the candles laid around the room. despite the sudden darkness, everyone can sense a sudden and ominous presence lurking in the room, though many do their best to ignore it, hoping it’s merely a planned stunt to get them into the halloween spirit. as the darkness lingers, however, the crowd becomes more and more restless, people moving to leave. immediately, louder sounds of unrest come from the doors, where people trying to slip out find themselves unable to open them. even those with magical means find themselves stepping right back into the room after leaving. 

as the secret service begins trying to calm the people and learn what’s happening, a scream sounds throughout the room, and suddenly, the lights snap back on, revealing hordes of monsters straight out of the old fashioned horror movies so many of them celebrated. wolfmen howl as they jump onto their victims, dracula style vampires drain the blood of anyone they can get their hands on, mummies cast their magic and draw in those around them. gill-men and frankenstein creatures tear apart all who get too close, and some are even attacked by invisible men, completely unseen to the eye. 

as panic rises and bodies hit the floor, some even are turned into these creatures themselves, only adding to the chaos. it’s a new way to celebrate halloween, and not one anyone wanted or even thought to consider.

at dawn, the creatures will vanish along with the enchantments holding them in the white house, but until then, you’ll need to fight to survive, even if the one coming at you is someone you know and love. if you make it to sunrise, you can escape the night of horrors, but only if you make it to dawn alive. the clock is ticking.

TLDR ; what had originally seemed like a harmless prank to bring some halloween spirit to the night has turned deadly. halloween horror classic monsters have invaded the gala where they were once celebrated, honored, costumes. the exterior doors to the white house now find themselves locked and barricaded, the residents of washington dc now trapped with no hopes of escape. the entirety of the white house has now been opened to the public, in hopes of allowing them a chance to escape the monsters, to give the citizens the best chance of survival. you only have one task now, make it to sunrise. and make sure you do not become one of these creatures.

OOC INFORMATION :

BOO !! alexa : play the monster mash. -- 

come on friends, did you really think we could have an entire halloween event without including some kind of chaos? it wouldn’t be a hidden event without something going horribly wrong at an official event! this time around, you’ll be fighting off the universal classic monsters-- so hey, maybe people will think twice about buying those cheap spirit halloween vampire teeth next halloween. either way !! we hope you guys have fun with this, and get to explore your characters in a different way, and we hope this brings some more halloween energy to your lives!!

THE GIST : 

monsters have invaded. survive. 

it is completely up to you how your character reacts. they could panic, they could look to protect people, they could be having the time of their life getting to fight back, they could be entirely selfish and barricade themselves in a safe room and not let anyone in. the sky is the limit! 

technically the front door is the limit, as there is no escape. no magic will work to get people out of the white house. any exterior door is locked and will not reopen until sunrise. 

the secret service agents will be doing what they can to calm the situation, to try and usher people to safety but of course, no one could have prepared for this sort of thing. they will be doing their best, but it is on you to protect yourself or not.

THE MONSTERS :

your muses will be attacked by the ‘universal classic monsters’ !! there are multiple of them throughout the white house, so you’re not just fighting against the same dracula, but multiple dracula-style vampires! 

the specific monsters are : dracula, wolfman, frankenstein’s monster/bride of frankenstein, creature from the black lagoon, mummies, and the invisible man !! we can provide more information regarding them upon request. (aka dm maig, they have an unhealthy amount of knowledge about this)

your muses can be attacked , injured , turned or killed by these monsters! it is just up to you if you want anything like that to happen !

if you are looking to have your muse suffer a major injury (anything more than a broken bone), or be killed, you must message the main. it’s considered a major plot, and we have to keep track ! we need to know who is dying, what is happening to them, and who the plot will be with ! thanks friends!

please note, for anyone unfamiliar with character deaths within the rp : a character cannot permanently die. they will be resurrected after about an hour~ , but will have the opposite memory status to when they died. unaware characters will become aware, and vice versa!

if you are looking to have your character turned into one of these monsters, again message the main, but just note that at dawn, your muse will return to their original state! they will not stay a vampire/wolfman/etc after the event concludes!

PLOTTING :

feel free to begin transitioning threads, making new calls, doing whatever you feel is best to organize yourself for this !!

please note, first and foremost that while the event itself is still mandatory, the plot drop is optional. we understand that this might not be everyone’s speed, and you are free to incorporate as much or as little of the plot drop as you wish

if you wish to just continue on with the regular event threads, you are free to, you can always say your character left early once the event is over so they did not get caught up in this. but just know that it will still be canon to the rp, so plot accordingly if you’d rather stick to the classic gala threads!

if you are going to be participating, then this plot drop is going into effect OCTOBER 14TH AT 9AM EST!

CURRENT REPLIES : 

you may continue your current replies, whether you are participating or not! you can keep going with threads that were from earlier in the night, transition them over to be affected by the plot drop, or make new ones!

please just talk to your thread partners to know what they want to do! 

we will never be limiting your interactions, so, feel free to take this plot drop as you will and go forward with the event how you see fit for your muse!

HOUSEKEEPING :

as before, please keep tagging everything with ‘hwevent14′ so that we can keep track!!

please please, remember to tag any and all trigger warnings !! a refresher of the page is here !!

again, if you plan to have a character attacked, injured, killed or turned, message the main !! 

we will be offering one free starter for each writer, not each character, just as we did on the first day of the event, to help make this transition that much easier! that is only for friday the 14th !

we will be having memes that are going to be released on friday the 14th (we know it’s not our usual meme day) , but these memes will be centered around the plot drop to help with starters and transitions !!

as always, please have fun with this, get creative, don’t take it too seriously and just enjoy yourselves!! we hope this brings a little extra halloween spirit to your days !!

please make sure you like this after you have read the post in its entirety, and happy halloween, hidden! ♥

#hw: plot drop #hw: event #hwevent14 #hw: ooc #hw: admin

[the-storyteller-and-her-soldiers]

A Rosy Reveal

Title: A Rosy Reveal Word Count: 3,480 Warnings: None, maybe some OOCness and swearing, but nothing bad. OH PINING! Big pining! Also me writing this in 3 sessions tired AF over 2 months Ship: Stories Along The Stream (Thancred x Myself) Summary: Rebecca was just meant to act as an emissary for diplomacy, yet fate itself seemed to want her for something more... But while the young princess is running around in foreign lands, those back home won't easily let her stand alone. But through reuniting it seems that the seemingly two separate worlds would finally collide! But... how that will affect those who're left in the dark remains unseen Taglist: @floweringforgetfulness @hadesgoddess @jellyfish-ships @canongf @goldenworldsabound @nyandereneko @canongf @disneymarina A/N: Also I noticed a lot of my stories usually focus on me and my love, since this is linking my Royalty AU with my FFXIV stuff I figured to focus on the surrounding cast so that y'all know how they got here

--

The towering walls of the Rosenfield castle seemed dimmer, despite the streams of sunlight flooding the colored glass. The quiet bustle of life in the castle seemed less lively as well, despite there never being a dull day within its walls. Everyone from the newest maids to the oldest serving knights took notice of this. It wasn’t that hard, especially since the princess’ special guards were more restless and agitated whenever they were spotted. But no one dared speak of why that may be for the risk of sparking the raging fire that simmered just beneath their curtly polite facade. Even the most pompous of politicians were on their best behavior when they noticed this behavior seeping into their usually benevolently patient empress.

Two months. It had been two months since Alys had been approached by the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. Their current leader Minfilia had reached out to her old comrade Alys asking her to act as a foreign ally and work with the three city-states of the Eorzean Alliance to show them how unity could help strengthen all their forces. But seeing how Alys was busy handling the citizen’s well-being and rebuilding months after what many deemed ‘The Chaos Incident,’ she simply could not make the time for tedious mentorship to others that stood so far divided. Yet when Rebecca had caught wind of such a mission to journey into lands that were undiscovered to her, the lilac princess practically pleaded with her mother to go.

Alys still remembers how her daughter bounced before her towering stature, beaming as she begged to go. The young woman’s excitement was so infectious that it even managed to spark a sense of fondness toward the task at hand. So with a loving roll of her ebony gaze and a hand running through strands of her daughter’s faded sunset hair, Alys agreed to let her daughter wander for the few weeks they both thought it would take.

But now as she sat on her throne, doing her best to tune out yet another plea for a political marriage, the fact that it had been over two months since she had truly seen her daughter dug into Alys’s bones like rusted barbed wire. She tapped her painted nails against the ivory armrest, silently praying to the Holy that this long-winded monologue would reach an end sooner rather than later. Yet it continued even still, so soon the clicking of Alys’s heel against the smooth stone floor joined this strained song of impatience.

It was only when the man poorly presenting his case finally spoke Rebecca’s name, did Alys rise from her seat. She told the advisor that stood still beside her to gather up members of the Guarded Thorns and grant them access to the meeting room. She then turned her attention back to the spoiled noble.

“I’m so sorry to cut our meeting short, Lord Moisrant. But I must attend to other matters regarding my daughter. Surely you understand, if you love her so much you wish to marry her.”

Elegant and courteous as ever did the empress’s tone sound, but her snide intent was thinly veiled at best. So with the advisor going off to gather the princess’ elite guards and the defeated lord scurrying off to keep his name and hide intact, Empress Alys smoothed out the silk of her azure qipao and made her way to the militant meeting room.

It was only minutes later that the empress stood before a plethora of the empire’s strongest warriors. They all seemed to share the same restlessness even when their forms were rigid. No one dared to speak as each member’s unspoken frustrations might just set off one of the others. But after a few ‘excuse mes’ and ‘move its’ did someone speak. Dressed in charcoal-colored combat boots, ripped jeans, and a leather jacket, a woman approached the intimidating ruler. She would’ve been severely out of place, along with the other woman she now stood beside if she weren’t Rebecca’s personal guard and childhood best friend Ace.

“You called upon us, queen Mom?”

The question was as much of a joke as it was earnest curiosity. It had earned Ace a few breaths of laughter from the other guards, a momentarily surprised side glance from the stormy eyes of the noblewoman that stood beside her, and a genuine smile from Alys.

“Yes, I did. I’ve called you all here ‘cause I think it’s about time that we took a little trip!”

Now it was time for the other woman to step forward, her crimson skirt gently swishing to and fro with the step she took. Her normally piercing gaze softened to a questioning glance when they met with Alys’s earthy ones, as she tilted her head and asked about the wheres and whys.

“Well, my dearest Ren, I know you and Yone travel to Ionia regularly but have you ever been to Eorzea?”

Ren simply shook her head. She had read a lot about the land when she was young since the city-state of Gridania was one of the prime locations to learn healing magic, but just like much of her past she willingly chose to forgo the details.

“Well don’t worry as they’ll be much to learn when we’re there. Knowledge of the Primals may be of interest to you in particular. But mainly, I. Want. My. Daughter. Back. As I’m sure the rest of you do as well.”

The group could only nod and agree with the empress with some even muttering to themselves soft confessions of missing the princess. So with that matter settled, all there was to do now was to set off…

—

When the three women arrived in the aytherite plaza of Ul’Dah, two were overcome with churning stomachs, blurred vision, pounding headaches, and wobbly legs. The brunette stumbled into the arms of her ever-loyal guard who seemed unphased by the whole teleportation trip. His intimidatingly stoic stature shattered momentarily as he clutched the smaller woman to his chest. One hand was tightly wrapped around her waist, while the other mindlessly combed through her hair. Despite the bustle of the plaza, Ren could hear how his raspy voice murmured comfort and praises as gentle as the breezes in Ionia. She wanted to ask how he was unaffected by such a journey. Perhaps it was the fact he wasn’t entirely alive, maybe he was just better at hiding it. Either way, Ren could barely make a sound before feeling like she was going to faint.

Ace on the other hand rested her hands, knees, and head on the cool stone beneath her. Her chest heaved as she took calculated breaths, her eyes clenched shut for moments on end before springing open in an attempt to adjust to her surroundings. Glaring through the azure tips of her hair toward the blinding brightness outside, she tried to compensate for the simultaneous dryness and unnatural moist feeling burning at her throat. When she was sure that her lunch was going to stay where it belonged, her opinions rang clear.

“What in the ever-loving hell was that? I’ve used aytherite before! But this felt like death, or torture, or torturous death! I better not be dying, or so fucking help me!”

The empress who also seemed unaffected by the sudden trip knelt beside Ace. A perfectly manicured hand rubbed against the cool steal which adorned the younger woman’s torso.

“You’re not dying,” Alys spoke softly like she did whenever Rebecca had to remain bedridden. “It’s just a bout of aetherial sickness. This probably happened because of the distance and the fact that you guys had never attuned to the Eorzean aytherite crystals before. It should wear off in a few minutes.”

“A little warning would’ve been nice…” Ace moaned, before finally gathering the strength to stand properly once more.

Ren only nodded in agreement as the twisted sickness began to subside and she began to melt into her lover’s embrace. The empress nodded in agreement as she helped Ace to stand. Although when her hickory gaze finally took in the surroundings that she so long ago had called home, it was only then that she realized that the travel party had shrunken considerably.

“Well, it seems that even though you two had been struck with sickness, you were still lucky enough to make it in one piece. It seems that Jack and the others have gotten lost among the currents. If I had to guess, they’re probably in Gridania… Probably…”

Ace only raised a brow toward the empress to inquire about a later explanation. Ren, despite feeling fatigued, finally spoke. It was nothing more than a breath of how fortunate she was that the ‘asshole’ hadn’t seen her in such a state and how with him gone she’d at least experience some temporary peace on this forsaken trip. This offhand remark incited a giggle from the empress and a low chuckle from her partner which managed to put the noblewoman at ease.

“So now that we’re in Eorzea, where to next?” Ace pondered, more than ready to reunite with the woman she considered a sister.

It was at this point that the empress’s beautifully composed mask furrowed to one that hinted towards the simmering annoyance building in her core. “It seems that we must go, and I must return to the Waking Sands…”

–

The trip to the Waking Sands was much more enjoyable if not much longer than the one to Ul’Dah. The air was dry and hot and the creatures that prowled off the beaten path were unfamiliar to the three younger passengers, but it was enough to keep them entertained as the carriage trekked on.

When they finally reached the small oasis of Vesper Bay, they could feel the weight of many uncertain gazes upon them. Yet they dared not to linger since more notable matters remained at hand. Taking tall strides, Alys made her way toward the building which resided beside the river. The rest followed behind, Ace listening to the empress grumble about them still not having erected an aytherite in the small village while the two lovers behind her indulged in curious whispers.

The heaving wooden doors swung open with a low creaking sound and the four quickly entered the shadowed room to escape the sweltering sun. Once inside, they were greeted by a woman far shorter than the rest of them. She wore a pink tunic with beige leggings that somehow brought more vibrancy to her lilac locks. Without taking further notice, Ace thought the woman was merely a child until she spoke.

“Oh Becca, welcome b–uaaah! I’m sorry, you weren’t who I was expecting! Do you have a meeting with the Antecedent?” The woman’s voice was soft with the slightest hint of a posh accent, yet the genuine warmth which lay underneath was much more evident.

“Something like that, yes. Though I will say it’s been a while, Tataru.” Alys spoke, a small smile finally gracing her painted lips.

The lilac lady leaned so far back to meet the empress’s gaze that she had nearly stumbled out of her chair. But when her violet gaze finally did meet the empress’s eyes a similar smile graced her lips. Tataru performed a small curtsey and stepped down.

“That it has. Let me go put on some tea and make sure that Minfilia isn’t busy…” With that, Tataru scurried down the stairway leaving the group on their own once more.

“Well that went rather well, you know her Alys?” Ace questioned as the group cautiously entered the depths themselves.

Alys nodded silently for a moment, reflecting on the youth that she often joked with Rebecca was far gone. “Yes, I actually was a part of the scions before they called themselves such… Although once I had reclaimed things from my parents and began running Aster-Blossom… It was much harder to go adventuring. Not to mention when I adopted Rebecca I had much more important priorities.”

“So is this Minfilia also a friend of yours?”

A breath that was halfway between a chuckle and a grimace escaped Alys’s lips before she replied, “I wouldn’t exactly say that… But as I told my daughter, for now, it is best to keep things civil.”

–

The scarlet sun scorched the back of Rebecca’s darkened robes, making her feel as if she was no more than an ant beneath a magnifying glass. Even though she was panting both from the heat and as an attempt to calm her racing heart after another fight with a beastmen tribe desperate to resummon Ifrit, the young princess was glad she was without a companion. This was because if she were in the presence of any company, she’d have to contain her angered mutterings to keep from sounding like a madwoman. Perhaps she was, since she had stuck around long after her diplomacy mission and enrolled in a foreign military because this Goddess had given her the ability to see memories and fight primal gods without being seduced. Any other person back home would’ve chalked it up to a hallucination and hightailed it out of this foreign place. But Rebecca didn’t, she wanted to stay, to help, even though she had more reason than most to simply return and lend her energies to her people.

Was it merely because she was a noble heart or because that smooth-talking bard of the scions had swindled her into wanting more with their ‘chance encounters’? Maybe it was because the young elezen man carrying so much with his sister reminded the princess of herself? This was what Rebecca currently rambled about aloud in an attempt to organize her thoughts. It was that and her constantly cursing her enemies and the weather every other sentence just for a placebo symptom of relief.

Taking pause under the scant shade of a lone tree, Rebecca confirmed to herself that she was indeed insane for doing any of the things she did. But before she could organize those thoughts, the ringing of her linkpearl distracted her.

Answering the call, Rebecca was met with Minfilia asking once again for her to return to the Waking Sands. That oh-so-common request caused Rebecca’s eye to twitch in annoyance, but she bit her tongue especially when she picked up on the other woman’s masked tone of nervousness.

With a sigh, Rebecca responded that she’d be there as soon as possible and that they’d handle whatever it was together.

So after a minute of digging around in her sack of junk and wonders, Rebecca’s trembling fingertips clutched an aytherite ticket to Vesper Bay. In even less time than that, her tired steps plopped down on the sandy stone that lined the village. When she walked into the Waking Sands and saw that Tataru was absent from her usual position, her hand went white from the force she used to grip her staff.

Her steps were cautious as Rebecca had glued herself to the wall in an attempt to keep her arrival to her advantage. Though when her ebony irises caught the sight of the doors to the bar flung wide open and Tataru serving tea in a manner that seemed relaxed, the girl with faded sunset locks let her suspicions fade just a bit. Slowly walking into the room that carried its usual atmosphere of respite, Rebecca greeted cheerfully.

“Hey, Tataru! Minfilia called me to return immediately, do you know where I can find her?” Without even thinking she happily greeted her closest companions from back home before saying she’d be right back.

It was only after Rebecca had stumbled out of the room and halfway to the Solar that she processed just who she’d seen. “Wait a minute–!” She then turned on her heel, nearly fell on her back due to a loss of balance, and rushed back into the bar area. “WAIT A MINUTE! MOM, ACE, REN, YONE, HI! What are you doing here?! It’s so good to see you and you have no idea what I’ve been up to! How’re you?”

Everyone could tell how exhausted the girl was. The beads of sweat dripping down her forehead, dark circles under her eyes, and steady shake of her frail form were enough of a giveaway. But it seemed that Rebecca, herself, forgot as she beamed brighter than the hanging chandelier and pulled up a stool to join in on the pleasantries of reuniting.

“It’s been forever!” Ace exclaimed, standing and hugging Rebecca from behind before ruffling her locks.

“Two months over your expected return home,” Ren added in. Despite the factual nature of the statement, her fond tone also sent the unspoken message that she had also been missing her friend.

“Yeah, about that,” Rebecca began with a sheepish smile, “I’ve been all over Eorzea since then! You will not believe how many freaking times I’ve been to Gridania. It’s a lovely place but if I’ve got to go back ONE MORE TIME! I will scream!”

This is when Rebecca’s mother decided to humorously inform her, “About that sweetie, your boys also came on this trip but it seems we got separated and they probably are in Gridania…”

The noises that escaped Rebecca’s peachy lips were no more than flustered syllables before she slammed her head against her arms that were folded on the table. It was only after a moment of silence had passed that the group could hear a defeated murmur, “Guess I AM going back to Gridania… Why have I become Eorzea’s errand girl?”

“What do you mean by that? Have the people here not been taking your status seriously?” Ren questioned, wondering if she would have to prove her affluence as well.

“About that too,” Rebecca began followed by a sheepish laugh.

Unnoticed by the currently chattering group, another patron strolled in with his throat aching for a drink. His strides carried him right to the bar and past the small crowd, seemingly paying them no mind in turn. Yet his golden gaze peered past his moonlit locks and seemed fixated on Rebecca as he casually poured himself a drink. The smile that was usually on her face was more radiant than even the most serene sunrises that embraced the shores of Limsa Lominsa. Yet this one, this one seemed more profound and it was brighter than all the gold in Ul’Dah. It made his heart beat faster than any chase he had given or begun. But if that sight wasn’t enough to make him choke on the drink in his hand, the new knowledge most certainly did.

“Yeah, when I came in Minfilia didn’t introduce me to the other scions as such. So I figured that they all knew and status didn’t matter here. But when they started asking more about me and I realized they didn’t know, I thought it would be too arrogant to say, ‘Hey, by the way, I’m not only this Warrior of Light but the princess and sole heir to the Aster-Blossom Empire!’ Soooo… I just didn’t and so they simply know me as Becca Rozenaria, the optimistic but tired-as-all-hell adventurer…”

A princess… the beauty before him who was not only working her way as a steadfast ally, close confidant, and unwavering crush but was also chosen by Hydaelyn and a princess… Not only a princess but an heiress to the one big ally that the Eorzean Alliance has. Of course, she would be. Despite Thancred wandering in only for something to quench his thirst, a sudden craving to slam back something much stronger ached in his core. It wasn’t the fact she was royalty, no. The silver tongue of the scions had left many noblewomen enchanted and even held ties to royalty himself. This was a fact that Rebecca had seen firsthand and by the grace of the Echo. But then why was there this sudden constriction in his airway and weight dragging down his chest? While he listened in on the woman explaining to her friends that she didn’t want them to view her any differently, Thancred still couldn’t shake away the feeling that she was otherworldly from crawling up his spine.

But when the woman who was the embodiment of a soft sunset finally took note of his meager presence and shared that jewel of a smile with him directly as he was leaving, all he could do was return a wave and a smile her way. Even as he left the room and the conversation now focused on the rosy tint that took up residence on Rebecca’s cheeks, it did Thancred no favors to his mood.

But now wasn’t the time to dwell on his feelings. After all, he had been tasked by Minfilia to investigate the looming threat of the ascians, and surely that was something that would be easier to sort through…

#ship: stories along the stream #self insert #fo community #selfship community #self insert community #f/o community #selfshipdom #self ship community

[fenrirswood-hq]

WEDNESDAY...

... it is a few hours before the full moon. The Witches of Fenrir’s Wood have been hoping their task will be smaller tonight, the city is asleep and restless because of the break-in, but the weather has made it so most remain home. 

They don’t seem to be aware that once again the covens are on-foot, out to protect the inhabitants of the city from the Werewolves among them. 

ROXANNE ALLEYNE was making her way around the outer rim, near the local stables, when she heard a soft whisper carried on the wind. She walked to check it out, opening the stables as the whispering became louder. 

When the stables opened, she was no longer there, but at the Duck Pond, looking out over the water, seeing a striking white horse in the middle of it, standing on the water. It turned its large head towards her, regarding her. It looked odd: eight legs instead of four, with hooves that were not hooves, feet from nightmares. 

She tried to get closer, setting a single step towards the horse, but soon as she did, it became water and merged with the pond. 

She woke up in the stables. A single whisper stuck with her: may the wild hunt be fruitful. 

Every Witch in the woods that night heard the whispers, in languages they did not know or could not understand, each a different one, fleeting.

ooc; ONE MORE WEEK TILL THE FULL MOON! And the Wild Hunt plot has started. While this one focusses mostly on one character, the next plot drops connected to the Wild Hunt will involve several more of your characters! So keep a look out. 

#fwhqplot #supernatural rp #mystery rp #city rp

[silendarre]

tag dump!

#( 🌺 ) two roads diverged in a yellow wood and i took the one less travelled by / headcanons #( 🌺 ) the green-sheathed daffodilly trembled in the water chilly / galar #( 🌺 ) how this ends depends on how you play your part / ask memes #( 🌺 ) now each visitor shall confess the sad valley's restlessness / answered #( 🌺 ) by no wind are stirred those trees that palpitate like the chill seas / open starter #( 🌺 ) over the lilies there that wave and weep above a nameless grave / aesthetics #( 🌺 ) is all that we see or seem but a dream within a dream? / musings #( 🌺 ) let us make a fairy ring and together step inside / ic #( 🌺 ) opal used vanity - it's super effective! / self promotions #( 🌺 ) step onto the stage and the audition can begin / promotions #( 🌺 ) why do i always feel like i'm in the twilight zone? / dash commentary #( 🌺 ) what's this ??? owo ????? *notices your post* / saved #( 🌺 ) gotta keep up with my Brand Recognition(TM) / ooc

[helliontherapscallion]

Adrenaline Junkie

Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6     Part 7     Part 8     Part 9     Part 10     Part 11     Part 12     Part 13     Part 14     Part 15     Part 16     Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Ages (oldest to youngest):

Philza- 32

Technoblade- 17 

Wilbur- 17

(Y/N)- 16

Tommy- 14

Pairing: platonic!sbi x winged!sibling!reader

Warnings: near death experiences, mentions of depression, OOC sbi (this is my first time writing about them)

Summary: Philza finds out about your little “habit”

Word count: 1,962

You grinned as you flew through the air with your feathers glinting in the low sunlight. You absolutely loved the feeling of freedom you got whenever you flew. It always gave you a sense of calm when you needed a break from your family. You loved them of course, but you needed a break once and a while; you often felt drained if you didn’t take some time to yourself. The cold air rushed past you as you continued to flap your wings to keep you in the air. 

You could not see the ground below you as you soared higher into the clouds, weaving in and out of them. Flying higher, you steadied yourself to look at the sunset. The mixture of pinks, oranges, and yellows blended together perfectly. You always loved the sunset, it was one of the only consistent things in your life. You wished that you could stay hovering hundreds of feet above the ground, but mobs were going to be spawning soon. The last time you stayed out past sunset you had almost gotten killed by a skeleton. Your dad had given you quite the lecture after he made sure that you were alright. You still had the scars on your arms from when it tried to shoot you out of the air.

You angled yourself so you were upside down, put your arms tight to your sides, and extended your wings fully behind you. You dove closer and closer to the earth, quickly picking up speed. The wind whipped around you as you gained velocity, getting closer and closer to the ground by the millisecond. At the last second, you fully extended your wings and drastically slowed your descent to the ground. The extra velocity you had made you soar up once again before you regained control and landed safely on the ground. The adrenaline that the skydive gave you was the most exhilarating feeling you’ve ever felt, and you were always craving it. Your dad didn’t find it as fun or exhilarating as you did.

“(Y/N) (M/N) MINECRAFT.”

Your father’s voice boomed from behind you. You could tell that he was in a lecturing mood without even having to look at him. He grabbed your arm and spun you around. Grabbing your other arm, he looked you up and down with worried blue eyes. After seeing that you were alright, his gaze hardened and he took a deep breath.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”

He rattled on and on about how you could’ve killed yourself, but quite frankly you didn’t care if you died or got hurt. In your opinion, the adrenaline you got was worth it. You had three lives you could spend, and if you did die, you wanted to go out with a bang all three times. What could you say? You were an adrenaline junkie through and through. 

He started to drag you inside the house mid lecture. Swinging open the door, he pulled you towards the kitchen, where the scent of fresh mushroom stew wafted from the pot on the stove. Your brothers looked at you each with their own different reactions. Techno looked as stoic as ever, Wilbur eyed you with slight disapproval, and Tommy looked at you with awe and excitement. They must’ve seen your little trick through the window. 

“(Y/N) THAT WAS POGGERS! YOU WERE SUCH A BADA-”

Tommy’s excited rant was cut short as he saw the stern look on Philza’s face. After a few moments of hesitation, your brothers were making small talk with each other with Philza occasionally chiming in. Poking idly at your food, you contemplated how you should go about apologizing to your dad. 

You supposed that the best route you could go was telling him that you wouldn’t do that again, but you knew you would do it again. That was the biggest adrenaline rush you’ve ever gotten and you were already craving it again. You couldn’t lie to your dad, your wings always gave you away by twitching uncomfortably whenever you lied. On the other hand, telling him that you felt empty when you didn’t have adrenaline coursing through your veins was not an option. He already has enough to worry about with working to provide for four teenagers. Deciding that your best bet was to lie to him and hope for the best, you zoned back into the conversation around you. Tommy was ranting about how he had broken his favorite sword dueling Techno.

“-do you have any idea how long it took me to find that enchantment, Techno?”

Techno huffed slightly in amusement. “Actually I do because I helped you find that enchantment. We found it in the village together, remember?”

“Tommy,” Philza said tiredly, “we can get you another enchanted sword. Techno, you need to be more gentle with your little brother. You have to remember he’s three years younger than you, so he has less experience in dueling.”

Tommy grumbled to himself, busying himself with shoveling food in his mouth. Wilbur glanced at him with disgust.

“Do you have to eat like that, Tommy? It’s disgusting.”

“Well, Wilbur, it’s not my fault I’m hungry.”

“You’re eating like we don’t feed you.”

You usually enjoyed it whenever your siblings argue back and forth like this, but lately it didn’t make you feel anything. You didn’t feel much anymore if you weren’t pulling off impulsive stunts. Of course, you hid it from your family and acted like you did before. It was relatively easy since you were naturally a quiet person. You thought you were doing a great job at it, you pride yourself on your acting skills.

Dinner went by fast without anything notable happening. Since it was your night to clean up, you got to work after everyone parted ways for the night. You stacked the dishes left on the dinner table and got to work washing them. Luckily, since you lived with three teenage boys, you never had to deal with leftovers. You subconsciously stretched and twitched your wings, feeling restless without feeling the wind moving through your feathers. After you got done with putting the dishes away, you took a deep breath and set out on your search for Philza. 

Walking into the living room, you saw Techno sitting near the fireplace reading one of his mythology books. “Hey, Tech. Do you know where Dad is? I need to talk to him.”

Without looking up from his book, he responded in his usual monotone voice. “Yeah, he’s up in his room. I think he’s going to bed early.” He paused for a second before looking up at you with sincerity. “You know, he was terrified when he saw you earlier. He thought that you weren’t gonna stop yourself in time. Hell, we all thought you were gonna die.”

That made you feel guilty. He already had to deal with providing and raising you four and he didn’t need anything else to worry about. You felt your wings droop slightly as you sighed. 

“...Thanks, T. G’night, love you.”

You started to speed walk to Philza’s room without giving him time to respond. You needed to apologize to him and fast. Out of all your siblings, you were always the one to hate conflict and would always apologize first whenever you got into a disagreement with anyone. You were always the pacifist. 

Walking past Tommy in the hallway, he tried to stop you to talk to you, but you ignored him with a dismissive wave of your wing. You heard him mumbling to himself as he started to walk down the stairs, probably to challenge Techno to a rematch. You nervously fluttered your wings, feathers occasionally brushing against the walls and causing you to shiver slightly at the small touch. Your hands were shaking slightly as you took a steadying deep breath and knocked on Philza’s door. Hearing his tired “come in”, you slowly opened his door. He situated himself so that he was sitting on the edge of his bed and gestured for you to sit next to him.

“Hey, Dad. I-I just wanted to say sorry for worrying you earlier. If I knew that it would stress you out, I wouldn’t have done it.” You sat next to him.

He sighed as he wrapped an arm across your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “I don’t care if it stressed me out. You could’ve gotten killed from a fall at that height. You could have lost a life. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t open your wings in time.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Then why’d you do it if you knew that you could’ve gotten yourself killed? I just want to understand why you would pull a stunt like that, I’d never expect you out of all of your siblings to do something so dangerous.”

You took a deep breath as you contemplated your next words. You really wanted to tell him about how you felt empty without putting yourself in danger. You wanted to tell him that you didn’t feel like yourself anymore. Unconsciously, your wings started to twitch and pull themselves closer to your body. 

You jumped when you felt something else wrap around you. You looked back and saw black feathers. Looking back up at your father, he looked at you with a concerned expression. 

“Take a deep breath, you’re shaking hun.”

You looked down at your hands and to your surprise, they were shaking. You took a few deep breaths and clasped your hands together tightly while Philza rubbed comforting circles on your back. 

“...It’s just that, I haven’t been feeling like myself lately, if that makes any sense. It’s like I can’t feel anything anymore without doing stupid things that could get me killed. It wasn’t the first time I’ve dived like that. One time I lost control and almost flew into lava-filled ravine.”

“...How long have you felt like this?”

“A few months now.”

Philza felt his heart break, how did he not notice that you were different for months? You could’ve gotten yourself hurt or permanently maimed yourself and it would’ve been his fault because he didn’t notice your mood shift. 

“I’m so sorry I didn’t notice sooner.”

“It’s not your fault, Dad. I didn’t tell you anything was wrong. Please don’t blame yourself.”

“We can help you find something that’ll help you. Something less dangerous.”

“We?”

“Your brothers and I. They’ve been listening this entire time, weren’t you, boys?”

You heard shuffling and muffled voices arguing with each other before the door opened to reveal your sheepish brothers. Wordlessly, they all filed into the room. Tommy grabbed your shoulders and yanked you into a tight hug. You felt Wilbur hug your other side before he pulled Techno into the group hug also. You felt feathers tickle your cheek as Philza joined, wrapping his giant wings around you all. The family hasn’t had a group hug since you all started to hit your teenage years. For the first time in a while, you felt happy without risking your life.

After that night, you were right in your assumption that you’d be grounded (literally and metaphorically) from flying for a while while your family worked hard to find something safe that gave you a distraction. Soon, Wilbur found a book about the intricacies of redstone working and you were hooked. Sure, your family was rambunctious and a strange group, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

#sbi x reader #winged reader #sibling reader #philza x reader #technoblade x reader #wilbur soot x reader #tommyinnit x reader #tw: near death #tw: depression #tw: swearing

[bvccy]

Can you write something with Mafia!Bucky or Avenger!Bucky where his enemies hurt the reader and Bucky's hell bent on revenge ? P.s love your blog <3

Nonny, you sent this prompt months ago (in July, I think), and I just now got to it. I almost didn't write it, actually, because it isn't something from my prompt list and I'm not sure I want to just take open prompts like this 😂 But I like protective!Bucky, so I wrote you a thing 💜

It turned out pretty long. Be aware it has some explicitly violent bits, and also some pining/angst. I wrote Avenger!Bucky, because mafia AUs seem OOC for him, but anyway I hope you like it!

By the way, what happens to the reader in this story might seem unlikely, but I did some research before I started writing and was basically inspired by this story (the link is spoilery, so I suggest you open it only after reading the fic lol).

Thank you for the prompt, and for your kind words! 🌺🌺🌺

— PAIRING: Avenger!Bucky x F!Reader — SYNOPSIS: Bucky falls in love with a girl working for Tony in Avengers Tower. He's trying to fit back in to society, fit in with the other Avengers, and maybe even get the courage to ask her out… But he almost loses her right before he has the chance to do it, and once Bucky makes sure she's safe, he goes to get revenge. — CONTENTS: Angst, hints of male masturbation, some explicit violence against bad guys, and a happy ending. — WORDCOUNT: 7.1k

It took a long time, but with the team's help Bucky managed to ease back into society, and into a form of service that suited him. Something he could do to reach a sort of peace with himself, to come back to the society he'd left for so long and no longer even recognised… And, more privately, to have something to do to keep his mind occupied. The therapy wasn't helping much, not that he could admit to that in so many words.

"It's going to take time," said Steve with brotherly sympathy. His hand rested heavily on Bucky's shoulder as they huddled around a table at the diner near Avengers tower, but his friend found it hard to look up at him.

"Yeah, I know."

"The doc knows what she's doing."

"Sure."

"Just trust the process. Trust yourself."

"Thanks a lot, Stevie."

He didn't like being blue like that. Caught between wanting to accept Steve's help and wanting to be honest, there wasn't much left for Bucky to say. He didn't believe a word his friend told him, didn't think Steve had any idea what it was like, but he had to trust him. There was no open avenue other than going rogue — and that wasn't a viable option.

"Sometimes, I think…" he started, and stopped, and laughed a bit sombrely, "I think the missions help a whole lot more than the shrink."

"Well, that's good," grinned Steve. "New assignment's coming up."

They raided an old base up in the Alps, a WWII relic that was too far up for the authorities to reach and make into a museum, and, thinking themselves forgotten by the world, some paramilitary bent on settling old scores had taken over. They had their scientists working on explosives, which made it easy to blow the whole thing up in one night. It was almost like old times.

"You got all of them?" asked Tony through their earpiece.

"Looks like it," sighed Steve, squinting at the ruin burning bright.

"Alright then, come back home. Unless you wanna do some sightseeing first."

"Nope. Seen enough the first time 'round."

Bucky stood by his side, gripping the rifle slung around his shoulder, unmoving against the chilling winds and the inferno in front of him. Something bothered him about that mission, it bothered him all the way back home, at the tower, at his mandated therapist, and into his lonely home.

Sleeping on the cold hard floor made it easier somehow, but it didn't help to remember why he was brought so low in the first place. Why he couldn't be like normal people anymore. Why he felt like a mangy dog every time he laid down, tired and restless, and curled up beneath threadbare sheets.

Wrapping up after the mission proved more challenging than actually doing it. He and Steve were stuck writing up reports about it for days afterwards, going through the files they salvaged, the recordings they recovered, keeping an account of all men killed… His mind wasn't up for it, and Bucky ended up taking walks around the tower every now and then, thinking and not thinking, letting his mind rest. The city pulsed around him, busier and noisier and uglier than he remembered, gripped by some sports event that week and filled with drunken youngsters with silly hats and long balloons, bonking each other in the head as they walked past. Against the shapeless sounds, Bucky let himself become lost as he walked circles around the building while the autumn sunset grew chiller all around him.

When he finally decided to head back up, it must have been around 8 in the evening. Even the receptionist at Stark Tower had gone home, but there were a few people outside, smoking, and there was light in the lobby. He stepped through, head down and hands in his pockets as he usually did, wary of being spotted, as if instinctively ashamed. An odd scent of rubber and alcohol hit him almost as soon as he went through the revolving doors. Looking up, Bucky saw one of the workers waiting by the elevator, and next to her one of those kids with a huge rubber hat in some team colours, balloon in one hand and red cup in the other — 'kid' he thought; the guy must've been in his 30s. He was trying to talk to her, but the office girl was focused on the metal doors in front.

She was dressed in the same sort of uniform all of Stark's people wore, muted colours and straight lines crinkled as the hours passed, with an access badge around her neck, clinging to a paper bag that must've held a croissant or cold pastry from the shop nearby that had just closed. Her feet, trapped in delicate shoes that were made for carpets more than streets, tapped on the ground as in her head she counted the floors until the elevator came back down and rescued her.

The boy swung back and forth as he faced the side of her and, with some difficulty, slurred:

"You haf a greight face…"

Bucky smirked as he saw her jaw tighten, but now that he was paying attention, he couldn't disagree. She had a perfect proportion of soft and sharp, a sweet set of features even while marred by tiredness and fright, thoughtful eyes coloured all the more cutely by her frown, and a mouth made for kisses. Hearing him as he got closer, the girl turned her head and breathed a sigh. He gave her a quick smile as he went around and gripped the drunkard.

"Alright, kiddo, off you go."

"Buh —"

"This isn't the place for you. Go find your friends."

Step by stumbling step, Bucky walked him to the exit and nearly shoved him out, but as soon as he found himself outside the kid saw something else of interest and lurched away by himself. When he went back in, Bucky saw the office girl was holding the elevator doors for him, a timid, grateful smile lighting up her face.

"Thanks," she muttered.

"Don't mention it."

They spent the ride up trying not to look at one another, spending the ride up in silence. Bucky took his hands out of his pockets and made an effort to stand up straight while the girl clung to the railing — not afraid of him, was she? Surely he'd been pretty publicly exonerated; and he'd just helped her…

But as he filled up the next few days by working late into the night with Steve, he kept seeing her around — sometimes earlier, sometimes later, but she tended to go out for fresh air too, or a modest bite to eat, and she was always friendly. So maybe it was something else…

"Maybe she's just shy."

"Who?"

"Don't think I haven't seen you, Buck."

He turned to meet the stupid grinning face of his blond friend.

"I can talk to Stark's employees if I want to."

"I hope so!"

"Since when do you play matchmaker?" asked Bucky, suddenly feeling flustered — more at being caught than anything else. Although, what was he caught with?

He hadn't exchanged more than a few words with her, caught her name, remembered her floor, noticed the things she liked to eat and how she liked her coffee, and offered to trade complaints about their work if she was willing.

"It's just nice," shrugged Steve with an innocence he didn't merit, "seeing you more like your old self."

"Uh-huh."

She knew who he was, he'd figured that out quickly enough, and her calmness soothed Bucky more than he expected. She didn't ask questions he didn't want to answer, although he could see behind her eyes a sometimes burning curiosity. Perhaps she could read him too, because as soon as he started fidgeting, looking down at his shoes like a boy chastised, she offered up some awkward little detail from her life, or gossip about her colleagues, complaining about her boss, or talking about what she'd done over the weekend.

"We had a 'teambuilding' thing on Saturday."

"Oh yeah, what's what?"

"It's when the boss has some extra funding for social activities and makes us go places to waste our free time."

"Sounds fun," he grinned, knowing it would make her roll her eyes. "Where did you go?"

"Cinema. There was this movie about superheroes and clowns and there were some explosions."

"Was it horrible?"

"Yes, very. Could you hold my coffee, please?" she asked as she took out her wallet to pay the cashier.

"You shouldn't work such long hours, you know," he smiled down at her.

"It's only for this month," she shrugged. "Big project, boss needs us all here…"

It knocked the cheer right out of him to know he might not see her around so often after that. What if there was another mission? What if there was nothing? What excuse could he come up with to keep coming by?

Would she even miss their talks? Did she even care? Did she chat with him out of pity or a misplaced sense of charity? The girl spoke pretty calmly about those coming weeks of quiet work, as if these late-night talks didn't make any difference… Perhaps they didn't.

Perhaps they shouldn't.

Back in his apartment, cold and quiet like a burrow, Bucky was confronted once again by what he was. A sad and lonely man, an awkward cripple with a toy arm, too scared of his own dreams to sleep without the television on, too weak to even sleep on a bed. Between the mismatched dishes put together from a charity shop and the cracked mirror in the bathroom, he couldn't find a single thing that he could offer her, that would make him worthy of her, that would make him a man.

In his thoughts as he settled down to sleep, struggling with his animalistic body, he allowed himself to think of her in the hope that it would make him dream of sweeter things — though it never did. And all his touches were in vain, the light caresses up his thigh with those strange unfeeling metal fingers, like somebody else's hand, and the grips tempered by self-restraint that teased him to the point of madness, fingers threaded through his hair from the other side, all so that he could pretend it's her — all of it was much more than he should have done, yet every night was not enough.

The month passed, and then he only saw her sparingly, catching her as she left and he arrived for some late briefing, saying polite hello's in passing as if he wasn't already in love. His therapist noticed, pestering him about how he felt about women, what he thought about dating, if anyone had caught his eyes.

"It's none of your business, doc."

"You can't go through life all alone, James."

"Why not? I have, so far."

"Yeah, and how's that been working out for you?"

"Just fine," he smiled with deliberate malice.

"Still have trouble sleeping?"

"No," he lied.

"Having someone there could help you."

"That's great to know."

"Alright. I can see you're not in the mood for it today. How about you —"

She didn't finish saying it before he was out of his seat. Bucky didn't want her knowing that he thought the same, or that he'd started to ease into sleeping in a bed again all on his own.

Face first, fully awake, using it as a lewd prop as he imagined a certain girl beneath him, with sheets for a body and the pillow for a face. He held himself suspended just above as he eased his naked body forward, his back chilling in the dark room as sweat pooled, and with slow, nearly mechanical moves, Bucky thrust into the body he pretended was there. But no voice cried out, there was no one to speak to or call his name, there were no other sighs but his.

Another mission was announced, and he was jumping at the chance to go. The killing didn't feel good, but the hard jitters of the flight, the cold nights on stakeout, the distraction of the click of metal weapons in his own metallic hand all served as an escape, before he had to go back home to the cage that waited there. His apartment had never seemed so lifeless without another soul to share it, but whenever he thought to step on his pride and admit to his doctor she was right and just start "dating" someone, anyone, a frowning face looked up at him from within his memory, and lightened up when their eyes met, and her tired mouth pulled up in a smile and it was all for him and he knew he wouldn't have anyone else.

Like a present, he saw her again around Christmas. Tony threw a company party, and all the staff had to come. It was embarrassingly lavish, loud, and a little lurid, but Bucky didn't mind. Steve was enjoying himself, Clint was causing trouble, and Tony had arranged some fun little gadgets to keep people entertained. Everyone enjoyed the food, and the music with some carols, and the alcohol (more for the flavour), but try as he might he couldn't help but search — all night — and find — at long last — at a further table with the ordinary staff, his new friend among the masses. If his buddies noticed him pining, they said nothing.

Bucky watched her getting up to make for the table with the drinks, sauntering in a red dress with black lace trimming, poured on her like drying blood, hair clasped back and showing off her neck. He knew he spent too much time sucking in the sight of her before he came up with some excuse and got up too.

It was a strange mix for him to feel shy and hungry all at once. Approaching like a predator, he captured the far corner of the table, pretending to look for something else, and then slowly by degrees he noticed her — and saw her notice him as well, though she was worse at hiding it. A quick breath filled her chest, her shoulders squared, fingers lingering on the edge of crystal cups as she became aware of being seen.

"Hi," he dared say, looking up. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you too," she smiled, suddenly relaxed. "How've you been?"

A thing about her made him burn — maybe it was her dress, the music, the low coloured lights shining off her hair, or his own shame as he suddenly remembered all the positions he'd placed her in, in his bed, in his head, all those ways she'd made him melt before and drip like lazy milk. As he stopped right by her side, Bucky felt his whole posture coming down, poise broken by her presence into something less than a weary old weapon, but more than a mere animal.

"Been doing alright," he nodded, fingers fiddling around his glass as he slowly got a little closer. "And you?"

She shrugged a bit wearily. "Things are fine… Work's more quiet. I've missed our talks, though," she grinned, but briefly, seeming to regret that little confession as soon as she said it, but she didn't catch his eyes light up.

"Oh yeah?" Bucky husked. "I've missed them too, you know." Missed you, he thought, as a nervous rumbling started building up at the back of his head. The girl look up as if she heard his thoughts, and maybe even shared them, and as he held her hopeful gaze in his he started saying: "Maybe we can —" but didn't finish, because that rumbling got closer, and it wasn't in his head.

They both looked up to see a strange shape hovering — a little drone with a branch of mistletoe hanging from it — and when Bucky turned to the tables, he could see Tony with a stupid little remote.

"You know the rules," he called out, cheered on by Nat and Pepper, with Steve trying to look disapprovingly but failing, a smirk betraying him. "Kiss! Kiss!"

Bucky sighed and threw them a scathing look, tearing his eyes away only to look down to the girl frozen in front, who seemed as angry as he was — at their moment being interrupted, at being made a spectacle of, at being so embarrassed — but she knew she couldn't show it. Her nails dug into the glass, clinging to the one solid thing she could as heavy breaths moved her chest, but she kept her focus somewhere lower than his face, and wouldn't look up anymore.

For a moment he hoped that she'd go through with it, but he knew better… This wasn't her way, it was too soon, too public, and though she'd just told him that she missed him maybe that didn't mean anything more. He barely opened his mouth to apologise for Tony, when she gathered enough courage to move and walked right past him.

"Damn it, Stark!" growled Bucky as he threw a death glare, then went out after her.

The girl half-jogged toward the elevators and he rushed after, mumbling apologies as he caught up. The doors opened right away and she stepped in, and Bucky reached it just in time to join her.

"Hey, I'm sorry about that, I didn't… Stark's an idiot. Please don't…" he breathed as he watched her hug herself. "Please don't be upset."

"Sorry for making a fuss," she muttered as she pressed for the ground floor. "I just don't… like this sort of stuff. I hate these parties."

"I know." Did he? He could guess, from the little he'd gotten to know her.

"They're just so… My boss made me come to this thing," she sighed, finally looking up at him and frowning, but smiling somewhat apologetically. "He says I need to be in more 'team-building activities'. But I hate it, there's nothing about Christmas at this party. It's so fake."

"I know," he nodded, suddenly truly understanding. He didn't talk about it much, but he could compare it to the Christmas parties from his day. Even in the middle of the war, with all the rations and the ruins, it still seemed like… more. "The soul's all gone out of it."

"Yes… I guess everyone feels the same, I'm just not good at putting up with it."

"You can relax now though, I won't… I'm not…" like them.

The girl looked down at her hands clutching the rails, and her tense face relaxed into something a bit more embarrassed. Her fingers were still holding tightly to the metal bar, nails digging into her flesh as if she could weld herself to it.

"It's not that. I've just always been nervous in elevators…"

"Really? Why?"

"I got stuck in one when I was little," the girl shrugged. "I was stuck right between the floors and the lights went off. And I was afraid that if I screamed or banged on the doors, the cables would snap and it would fall, I had no idea how these things worked," she laughed. "Had to wait a few hours for someone to find me."

"Poor kid," laughed Bucky, looking fondly at her now that she'd relaxed a bit, and opened up, and seemed to be forgetting all about the party.

She had gone down to escape and take a walk, so he joined her. That winter was dry and snowless, but even so it was quite cold at night. He wrapped his jacket around her shoulders as they paced a wide circle round the building, chatting just like before. The night breeze, or maybe the excitement, or the warmth of him surrounding her made the girl's face heat up and her shy smile didn't escape his notice. He didn't dare ask for more from her after what just happened, but they arranged to start meeting each other again — Bucky with the excuse that he needed to get away from Steve more often, and she that she had no one to have lunch with that she liked. It was good enough for him, and maybe next time he would ask…

He went home with her perfume still clinging to the collar.

They kept their promise to each other after the New Year, and met for lunch in the first week. He didn't ask for more then either, even though he spent the whole half hour that they had together thinking all the ways to say it, looking for a chance or a break in conversation.

Back at home he cursed himself, and tried to ask it in the mirror.

Everything out of his mouth sounded pathetic to his ears and he was even more cowardly the second time, though she seemed lovelier than ever.

"Same time next week?" he asked as they got up together.

"I can't Wednesday, long meeting in the afternoon. How's Thursday?"

"I, ah, have some training to do with Steve." He hadn't told her yet that they were planning another mission.

"Oh, alright then. Friday?"

"Sure thing, doll." It was a good day to finally ask her out: right before the weekend, less work to do, she'd be in a good mood… She might even say 'yes'.

Friday came around, a little cold and cloudy but with a milky sort of diffuse light that seemed to spread across the city. Bucky even made the effort to dress slightly better, hoping that she wouldn't notice — or would. Surely it wouldn't surprise her too much if he asked to spend time together… in the evening. To go out together, somewhere else, maybe even go dancing.

Standing ready on the 45th floor, he sent her a quick text. "Ready when you are."

"On my way <3" she texted back.

Bucky smiled fondly at her message as he sat down in a chair by the elevators.

But he didn't get to wait for more than a few minutes when an alarm suddenly went off. Fire drill? They had those sometimes in the office buildings… Then, a shattering sound rumbled through the walls as the tower shook with an explosion.

People's screams could be heard from all directions, frightened and confused. Looking outside, he could already see smoke covering the skyline. Before him, the elevator shafts screeched and groaned as metal scratched against metal, and more explosions came up from below.

He already had his hand on the phone to call her when Steve called him instead.

"Explosions, 85th floor," his friend said with a pant as he ran up the stairs. "Looks like a ten-man team, they're still here. We need you right now, Buck."

"On it," he said as he started running as well, trying not to think about what had happened to the girl.

Every nerve in his body told him to look for her, but until the villains were dealt with she would be in danger. He tried calling her anyway as he ran up two steps at a time — no answer. Maybe she was busy getting out with everybody else… Bucky put his phone away to take out a gun instead.

A grenade rushed by down the staircase shaft as he kept running, the boom echoing all the way back up to him in a shower of screams from other people at the bottom.

Tony got in touch as well, he was in the suit. Natasha had already caught up with Steve, and he reached them just in time to deflect a bullet aimed for her head with his metal arm.

"Thanks," she gasped. "There's four of them holed up in the corner office."

"Do we know who's behind this?" growled Bucky.

Steve threw a guilty look back, sitting crouched beneath his shield. "Seems we missed a spot back in Italy."

That mission in the Alps, the WWII bunker… So this was payback.

It took them two hours to clear all of them out from all the offices and hidden places, but a few managed to get away. Steve and Tony captured a few alive and planned to interrogate them, while Bucky wasn't feeling all that generous.

"I didn't kill anyone," he shrugged the metal shoulder while Natasha tried to apply pressure to the other one, bleeding from a gunshot.

"You shoved two guys off the 70th story, Buck," frowned Steve.

"I kicked them. Not my fault they couldn't survive the fall."

"And that guy with his gut full of lead?" smirked Natasha as she finished wrapping him up.

"My trigger finger slipped."

"Right."

"Metal hand, gets slippery with blood…"

"We could've gotten some intel from them," she sighed.

"Don't act all high and mighty, Nat," he frowned at her. She'd killed a couple too, and had to look down guiltily. Then, with a change of voice, he started asking: "Wh-where's… Er, do you know wh—… I, ah, was supposed to meet someone for lunch."

"We haven't checked for survivors yet," she said.

Bucky got to his feet and pulled his shirt back on as he started jogging toward the hallway.

"The lifts are down, take the stairs," the woman called back after him.

He paused, and a thought chilled him to the bone. Bucky reached the nearest elevator and tried calling it. Sure enough, it was out of order. With some difficulty, he pulled the doors open and peered through, but the whole shaft looked empty: the wires had snapped.

Too shocked to even curse, he just pulled his phone from the back pocket — crushed, it must've gotten broken in the fight. Bucky ran to the nearest office and tried to call her from there, but the call wouldn't go through. He called Tony instead and learned they were still rounding up the people outside.

"We've had a few deaths," the man sombrely said as police sirens blared in the background. "Security guards, and the people working near the explosion sites."

"What about elevator accidents?"

"We haven't checked for that ye—"

Bucky hanged up and started running. All the lifts seemed stuck somewhere between floors, except for the one that had snapped — the one closest to the blasts. It was also the one closest to her office, the one she usually took when she came to him… A bloodcurdling fear taking over his whole being, he made for the basement before he could think another thought.

There were still people inside that had hidden away in offices or supply closets and were just now running away while a bomb squad was going up, with some firemen trailing behind and a SWAT team trying to secure the area. His shoulder wound was closing up, not that bumping into all those people helped — it kept opening back up and he trailed blood behind, but in the mess of broken glass and bullet casings, it all got lost.

The bottom of the building was a mess. Another two bombs have gone off there, probably at the same time as above, and the dust had barely had time to settle. A few of the pillars seemed to be barely holding on, but the building was too secure to be brought down that easily. Huffing through the black smoke, the smell of burnt wires and heated concrete, still dripping a bit of blood and filthy with it on his face and hands, Bucky stepped through the debris until he found the collapsed elevator. The doors were bent outward from the impact, and he hoped with everything he had that this… hadn't been her fate; that she was outside and safe, being counted among the survivors, or hidden away somewhere like a frightened mouse.

He called her name, but heard nothing. He wasn't sure if he should be glad or even more worried, and with a trembling voice, he called again. Nothing…

And then, a hollow knock resounded.

"Doll? Are you in there?!"

"B-Bucky?" her frightened voice called out, scratchy with pain and a wet sounding cough he didn't like.

"Hold on!"

It was more difficult to pull the doors off, twisted as the metal was, and once he did that he was met by a mess of wires coiled at the bottom. It was then that he realised what saved her: the blast had caused the wires to snap and they coiled at the bottom, softening the fall. Bucky ended up having to go one floor higher and reach her from above, but he reached her eventually.

The poor thing was terrified, but could still smile when she finally saw him. She'd fallen nearly 50 floors, her face was cut and bruised, she had three broken ribs and probably a broken arm as well, and though tears had painted paths through the dust on her cheeks she wasn't crying anymore. Happy and alive, she struggled to get up the little bit she could, yearning for him as much as he did for her.

"I've got you," Bucky whispered as he gingerly got in beside her, trying not to let the shaking in his voice come through. "You're alright, we'll get you out of here…"

"What happened?" she asked in a small voice.

"A… certain group attacked the building. We took care of them, don't you worry."

"They're all dead now?"

He didn't want to say it, but couldn't lie when he looked up and caught her eyes as he kneeled beside her. "Not all. Not yet."

Bucky didn't know how he was going to get to those in Tony's custody — well, the police's custody now — but as soon as he saw her safe and tended to in the hospital, he called Steve and arranged for a flight back to that bunker.

"They won't be there again, Buck, they know we're onto them."

"So find out where they are," he growled. "I told you we should've done a sweep of the place before we blew it up, Steve."

"Don't start with that again," he sighed, sounding contrite and angry but underneath it somewhat afraid of his friend right now. "We messed up, I messed up… We'll fix it."

"You're damn right. Find them and have the jet ready in 20 minutes."

It felt a little like back in the day when Steve did something thoughtless and Bucky had to bring him back in line. It felt serious then too, a scrape in a back alley could be life-and-death, but it was never as serious as this. She's safe though, he thought to himself, she's alive. But then, another voice answered in his head, That's not good enough.

He flew with Steve, Nat, and Clint in tow, but could only think of that frightened little girl stuck in a death trap, crashing 50 stories down, living her greatest fear and nearly dying if not for a slip of luck, waiting hours in the dark until somebody found her, breathing in with broken ribs, unable to get up or cry for help — and even if she did, nobody could hear her.

And still, she found the strength to smile, if only for his sake. She looked at him from that hospital bed like he'd hung the moon, and Bucky told himself it was just because he was the first to find her.

Tony tracked the group in a little island off the northern Russian coast called Severny: a sparsely populated place that still held some military bases, a weather station, and what was left of a few villages after the Soviets tested atom bombs there.

What they were looking for was another disused bunker on the western side. They landed undetected, then marched across the snow and ice until they reached the place. Looking like something between a fort and a rough-hewn piece of mountain set adrift, it seemed lifeless from outside, but they knew better.

"There's a vent shaft on the south side," said Natasha as she scanned the area with binoculars.

She barely finished saying it before Bucky went ahead.

"Wait a sec," whispered Steve, "we've gotta —"

"Oh, you suddenly have a plan now?" he threw back over his shoulder. "We'll split up."

Clint chuckled as he readied his bow, and even Nat had to hold back a smirk.

"Barnes has a point," she smiled. "They won't be ready for us, not so soon after their hit."

From the vents, he'd landed in a supply room where five of them were gathering materials to fix their plane. He killed one by landing on his neck, shot another three inside, and shot the last one in the back just as he was out the door. The lightbulb creaked as it swung overhead, painting half of his stern face yellow, the other half darkened with drying blood.

He walked calmly down their halls, one rifle at the ready, another slung across his back, stepping lightly as he listened for any nearby sound. The walls were thick concrete that muffled noises well, and the doors were metal slabs spread few and far between.

With the tip of his weapon, Bucky inched open the first door he found parted, but saw no one inside. He barely stepped through as he tried to look around, when he heard the echo of far off shouts and gunshots: the rest of the team had made it in. From the room next to his, two soldiers came out to investigate. As they whispered to each other and readied their guns, he exited the room and stood behind them, steading his rifle as he aimed right for one's head. The bastard barely hit the ground before his pal knew what had happened, and as he turned he caught Bucky's second bullet right in the face.

Stepping over their convulsing corpses, he went toward the racket Clint and Nat were making, then turned around the corner and waited for the reinforcements to come through. In a spray of bullets, he littered the floor with a first batch before the ones behind them caught up and doubled back around the corner. Bucky dropped the bulkier rifle for a pair of handguns and walked toward them, and the first one to look around the corner got shot through the eye. By the time the second one tried to point a rifle at him, Bucky was there to yank it from his hands and pull him close enough to shoot him through the mouth as he tried to call for backup.

"East wing's clear," came Clint's voice through his earpiece.

"I'm holed up somewhere west," said Steve as bullets bounced off of his shield. "Buck, what's your status?"

"South's clear. On my way to you."

He arrived at a larger room filled with old jeeps and a few rocket launchers following the sound of Steve's shield bouncing off the walls and knocking into people. Splatters of blood trailed down to the floor where a few corpses fell, and in the middle, Steve was trying to fight one black-clad bear of a man while dodging two more shooters from above. One of them spotted Bucky as soon as he was in the room, and almost grazed him but the shot hit the wall instead. Gritting his teeth, Bucky stepped back behind the door as he tried to take aim upwards, but the other man ran away.

It was easy for Steve to do away with the other guy and neutralise the shooter that was left. As his shield returned to him, he stood up to greet his friend.

"Nat took the north wing."

"We better go join her, then," said Bucky, reloading his gun as he turned right back around.

"Hey," Steve muttered as he jogged up to him. "Are you ok?"

"I'm not angry with you, Stevie," he sighed. "If that's what you were worried about."

"It's not…"

"There's a first."

"Alright, maybe I was a little —"

He didn't have time to finish before Clint called in to say they needed backup.

The final assault was against an annexe where all the remaining troops retreated, sealed off with a mess of metal and debris while they tried to break through to the outside. Clint's explosive arrows did away with some of it, but then as the dust cleared they started shooting back. Steve was just in time to shield them off while Nat and Bucky returned fire.

As soon as there was a brief pause while they reloaded, Bucky got out from behind the shield and kept shooting at the opening until he got close enough to launch a small grenade through it. The blast sounded through the walls together with a patter of cries and curses. More dust fell around their ears as, up in front and just out of the line of fire, Bucky punched with his left fist at the metal weakened by the blast, then leaned back and hit it once again, growling with a growing mix of pain and anger. He braced his right hand up against it, then hit the barrier again, denting it more and more each time, enough to loosen one metal sheet and pull it out.

"They've got their commander with them," said Clint as he took aim. "They'll do anything to get him out."

"So will we," frowned Steve, and for once Natasha doubted he meant to merely arrest someone.

She took position on one side, ready to shoot whoever showed up, and Clint stood opposite, while Steve deflected the stray shots that made it through until he could reach Bucky and begin to help. Between the two supersoldiers, it didn't take long to tear it down.

Bucky made it through first and had his hand on the knife strapped around his thigh just in time to jam it through the ear of the nearest guard, grabbing him by the head with his other hand to make sure the knife struck deep. He watched as life left the man's eyes before pulling it out and throwing it at another one who was trying to shoot Steve. From behind, one of Clint's shots took down another before he could throw a grenade, leaving it to explode right underneath him and take out two more of his buddies.

Heaving with an exhaustion that burnt, animated with a pain still hidden underneath a veil of anger, Bucky took the rifle from around his back and started shooting at the last contingent. Steve's shield got stuck in the wheels of the machine they were trying to use to cut through the rock, and Nat took out its operators.

By now, Bucky only hoped Steve wouldn't let his honour get in the way this time, so before his friend got a chance to change his mind, he took them out in a spray of bullets: shooting at the ones hiding in a car, firing until the bulletproof windows were shattered, and he heard them scream in pain. Another time, he might have seen the benefit of taking a few of them in, squeezing them for info. But as he killed them one by one, all he could think about was his wounded girl back home — how scared she was when he first found her, like a bird fallen from high with a broken little wing, how weak her cries had sounded, and hopeless, and because of these sick bastards, she had almost died in the way she feared the most

Guiltily, he couldn't hold back the self-pitying thought of how close he'd been to telling her how he really felt, how close he'd been to losing her.

Without any hurry, Bucky reached the last car they had hidden in and opened the door with a kick. A clutter of corpses fell through, fallen all over each other, dripping one thick cord of blood down to the floor like a noose set upside down. His hand tightened around the rifle, ready to shoot at them one last time for good measure, but then his thoughts turned to his girl and he knew she'd disapprove… With a weary sigh, he turned around and left them. He just wanted to go back home.

Bucky was beside her when she woke up the next day. He'd taken the time to wash himself a bit, scrub the blood off and get a change of clothes, and was just about to fall asleep himself when she opened her eyes. Breathlessly he leaned down to hold her hand, smiling back at her incredulous but happy face.

"Hey there," he whispered. "How do you feel?"

"Fine… Better now."

He smirked and tilted his head in disbelief. Every breath caused a little wince to twitch on her tired face.

"Oh don't look at me, I bet my face is all swollen…"

"You've got some scratches and bruises, nothing to worry about. Doctors say the ribs are the worst thing. You'll have to take it easy for the next few months…"

The girl gave an indistinct grumble, shifting gingerly on the bed as the sleep left her and she became more aware of the pain.

"I'll get you some water, then I'll call the nurse."

He stayed with her while she had her breakfast, tasting it a bit at her insistence so that they could suffer together. He got up to leave before they came around to clean her up a bit.

"I'll come back later, doll."

"You don't have to…"

Bucky regarded her with his hands shoved in his pockets, knuckles still a little scraped, the metal hand just slightly dented from where it had punched through a wall — this wouldn't be the time to tell her, so he plainly shrugged.

"I want to."

"You probably have better things to do," she smiled guiltily.

He could wait until she got a little better…

"But I don't," he shook his head, trying not to smile too brightly at the thoughts that came unbidden: them, together, going out at night and holding hands only a few months from now. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

The girl look up at him with a fresh colour in her cheeks, as if she understood.

"At least get some rest first," she slowly grinned. "You look the way I feel."

"Cracking jokes," Bucky huffed, pretending to be offended. "You'll be back up in no time."

With one last squeeze of her hand, he turned around to leave, his head bowed and grounded as his heart fluttered in his chest. Then, at the scratchy little sound of her voice, he turned back to hear her say:

"There's nowhere else I'd rather you be, either…"

The way her smile lit up her eyes filled the room brighter than the sunrise could, and he knew then he'd never leave her side again if he could help it.

#Bucky Barnes #James Buchanan Barnes #Winter Soldier #Sebastian Stan #marvel #mcu #Bucky Barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes x reader #Sebastian Stan fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #bv;fanfiction #bv;oneshots

[archived-kin]

one thousand and one nights with you (is not enough to spend)

note from kin: the title is from that song in twisted by starkid, but that’s about as far as the similarity goes

anyway you’re visionless and basically run a little witch shop in mondstadt, with flowers and cool gemstones and mysterious powders and potions and stuff. albedo gets a lot of his alchemy ingredients from you (also he’s dating you but not a lot of people know that)

fandom: genshin impact

character(s): gn! reader, albedo, plus a surprise venti cameo

pairing(s): albedo/reader

warning(s): i don’t know albedo that well so he might be ooc? also this is so cheesy it’s a little ridiculous

genre: fluff

“I’ll be going now, boss!”

You smile and return your assistant’s cheery goodbye wave as he disappears off into the night outside, freshly-filled coin pouch jingling at his hip. As the door swings shut with quiet click, your surroundings fall into quietude.

The candles keeping the room lit are beginning to burn down to stumps, throwing most of your shelves into shadow. You take a sip from the steaming cup sitting on your counter, then stand up to begin taking inventory and closing up shop.

The silence is comforting after such a long day. You’re not entirely sure what brought on the sudden increase in customers, given that your shop is tucked away in a quiet little corner of Mondstadt that not many tend to linger around. That had been a deliberate choice, and so was the lack of advertising - your speciality is the individual, not the crowd.

Still, you can’t say that it isn’t nice to have the increased income. More profit means better wages for your assisstant - and more Mora to buy even more cool things to stock.

You pass about an hour ambling around your shop, rearranging your products and making sure that everything is in order. Then, just as the bat-shaped clock on the wall chimes one o’clock, the bell above the front door jingles, and you hear quiet footsteps enter.

You don’t pay it any mind at first, instead focusing on rearranging the little bottles of various dusts and extracts on one of the ingredients shelves. A hand settles on the small of your back, and you feel the new arrival’s presence come to a stop beside you.

“We’re out of powdered lizard tail,” You say without looking at him.

A pause. Then a quiet chuckle. “That’s how you want to start the night?”

You smirk. “The night started a good while ago, darling.”

Albedo sighs as you turn to face him, though his soft smile betrays his faux-exasperation. “I did tell you I’d be late today.”

“You tell me that you’ll be late every day,” You reply, sliding one final bottle of powdered crystalfly into place, then move over to sit on your front counter. He follows, settling just beside you.

“I have a lot of things that need attending to,” He shrugs, leaning over and snatching your drink without asking. You shake your head, but let him take a sip from it anyway.

His eyes flicker up to look at you over the rim of the mug. “...though, of course, you’re the most important one.”

You laugh and bat at his shoulder. He doesn’t make any effort to avoid it, eyes twinkling as you smile. “Why not come round more often if I’m so important, huh?”

“Do you think I wouldn’t if I could?” He asks with a scoff, setting down the mug and gently nudging you in the side. “We both have jobs, [Name]. We need to actually do them.”

“Oh, I know that,” You return his nudge and hop down from the counter again. Albedo sighs a little at your restlessness, but follows as you swipe the keys from your drawer and open the door again. “But it doesn’t hurt to take a day off every now and then.”

“I’ve already taken far more in the last month than is reasonable,” Albedo says with a shake of his head, stepping out into the street at your indication and waiting as you shut and lock the door. “Grandmaster Jean will get suspicious.”

“Psh,” You dismiss, waving a whimsical hand about and nearly knocking the sign off of your door. “Why is it that you’re not telling her about us, again?”

“She doesn’t exactly like you,” He says, absently linking his hand with yours as the two of you begin walking aimlessly in no direction in particular. He’s removed his gloves, you notice. “You did set up shop without permission when you first got here.”

“Ah, right…” Now that you think about it, you seem to remember her shooting you a rather nasty look when you passed her in the street last week. Why she continues to hold a grudge is lost on you - after all, you did get the necessary documentation and everything eventually… though, to be fair, the method you used wasn’t exactly legal. “...well, forget her.  What do you want to do tonight?”

“Hmm,” He swings your linked hands about for a moment. “I saw a lot of dandelions growing just outside the walls earlier. Why don’t we go pick some seeds?”

“If you want to pick dandelion seeds, why not ask Sucrose?” You ask as he begins leading you in the direction of the main gate. “She’s the one with the Anemo vision.”

“Sucrose?” Albedo repeats, turning his head to look at you. His irises almost seem to glow in the darkness of the night, brighter than any of the stars above - it’d be unsettling if it wasn’t so beautiful. “Why would I want to go seed-picking with her?”

You raise an eyebrow. “...well, I’m assuming you need them for an experiment, and Anemo-blown sunflower seeds are always far more effective in that area.”

“If I needed them for an experiment, I’d just buy them from your shop,” He shakes his head. “This isn’t an ingredient hunt. This is different - it’s special.”

“Special how?” You question as the two of you walk through the gate. Albedo guides you over to a particularly thick cluster of dandelions just a few feet away, nestled in a lush copse of grass.

“Special… like you.” He cups both his hands around one of yours, the one that he’d been holding just before, and guides it over to one of the tallest plants. “Go on, show me that trick again.”

You laugh a little at his almost childish inflection, but do as he requests anyway. Albedo pulls his hands away from yours and watches as you carefully pluck off the head of the dandelion without disturbing any of its fluff-topped seeds, allowing it to rest on the tips of your fingers.

“There’s no trick to having a delicate hand,” You say as he watches your every move with the utmost concentration. “It just takes practice.”

Carefully securing the little bit of stem left at the bottom of the dandelion head between your index finger and thumb, you slowly raise your hand so that it’s suspended just above Albedo; he ducks his head a little, closing his eyes as you bring up your other hand to ever-so-gently flick the seeds from the head. The seeds drift about in the still night air for a brief moment before landing in Albedo’s blonde hair; their white colour is barely distinguishable against it.

He opens his eyes again as you pull your hands down again, lifting his head slowly so as not to disturb the little decorations you’ve added to it. “...so what did you grant me this time?”

“A good night’s sleep,” You say playfully. “As the seeds are carried away on the wind, so too will all your worldly burdens be blown away.”

He shakes his head, and several seeds are dislodged by the motion, vanishing quickly into the night. “If only it were that easy.”

“Hey, it worked last time,” You counter, sitting down in the grass. Albedo follows suit, reaching out and plucking a dandelion of his own - though with a lot less deftness than you did.

“That wasn’t the dandelions,” He says plainly, blowing lightly on the dandelion and watching the fluff disperse and disappear into the dark. “I just sleep more soundly when you’re beside me.”

You chuckle. “Sweet talker. So you’d sleep like a baby if I was around all the time, then?”

“Perhaps I would half the time,” He answers, smiling in a way that tells you that he knows exactly how sappy what he’s about to say is. “But I wouldn’t sleep nearly as well for the other half. I’d be too busy looking at you.”

Despite already knowing that it was coming, you can’t help but feel your heart flutter slightly at his proclamation. “I could say the same about. Bet you’ve broken a good few hearts with looks like that.”

“Then so be it,” He shrugs, eye-lids falling a little as he gives you a devilish little smirk. “Yours is the only one I care about.”

“When did you get so charming?” You flick him in the nose, effectively wiping off the smug look on his face. “Have you been studying love poems or something?”

“Love poems aren’t really my area,” He says, drawing back and rubbing at his nose a little reproachfully. “But Lisa and Kaeya have been giving me plenty of tips on my… 'romantic endeavours’, as they say.”

“Those two…” You shake your head. Kaeya and Lisa managed to find about your relationship with Albedo almost as soon as he’d confessed to you, though luckily they’d agreed to try not to mention it around Jean. “Have those tips been working?”

“Isn’t that a question for you to answer?” He picks another dandelion and blows it directly at you. “Is your heart being stirred?”

“Not while you’re blowing seeds into my face, it isn’t,” You shield yourself with one hand, pushing it in front of Albedo’s face to obscure his field of vision. “Quit it!”

He does drop the dandelion at your request, but, unusually, doesn’t give you a verbal response. You’re just thinking that he must be planning something when he suddenly leans forward and kisses the centre of your palm.

You immediately pull your hand back, feeling yourself heat up. Albedo leans forward, cocking his head to the side with a smile. “What about now?”

“You’re insufferable,” is your only reply.

Albedo’s smile turns into another smirk. He knows exactly what he’s doing. “I’m yours.”

“Mine, now? How nice,” You say, still trying to act unbothered. You can tell it isn’t working, though.  “Am I allowed to get a refund if you don’t work as expected?”

“Would you ever want to return me?” Albedo counters. You can’t exactly say yes - that’s both mean and untrue -  so you just sigh and shake your head. He smiles, clearly pleased.

You’re about to say something else when you hear a series of uneven footsteps coming from the gate. It doesn’t sound like a Knight of Favonius on patrol - in fact, it sounds more like a drunkard.

Albedo shuffles a little closer to you as a figure stumbles out of the gates. It’s someone you vaguely recognise by their green clothes - the bard who often plays in front of the statue of Barbatos. He’s holding a bottle that’s already half-empty, and you have a feeling that he’s already had a lot more before it.

The bard looks over at you and Albedo, and while you doubt he can recognise your faces what with both the darkness and the distance, it’s obvious enough that the two of you aren’t just a pair of good buddies hanging out. He raises the bottle in your direction with a hiccup.

“Wonderful night to meet a lover!” He calls, voice ringing so loudly that you’re sure that he just woke up a few residents of the city. “May your relationship last long as the wind blows!”

He doesn’t wait for a response before beginning to stumble his way across the bridge. As he goes, he exclaims to no one in particular, “The air is crisp tonight! Such good wine - what a wonderful city!”

He quickly disappears into the darkness. You exchange looks with Albedo. “...how much do you think he drank?”

“Far too much,” He replies amusedly. “He’ll regret it come morning.”

“And it isn’t too far off now,” You say, checking your pocket watch. “Will you be heading back to headquarters tonight?”

He considers, then shakes his head. “I don’t have anything that’ll need attention tomorrow morning. So, if you’ll have me…”

He doesn’t finish, but you already know what he’s asking. “There’s always room for you to stay over - you should know that by now, shouldn’t you?”

He smiles a little bashfully at that, and nods. “I suppose so… thank you.”

“You might as well move in at this point,” You comment, shifting slightly on the spot and patting at his arm. He holds his hand out obligingly, and you thread your fingers through his. “You’ve left at least three sets of pyjamas over already.”

Albedo opens his mouth to respond, and you shake your head, placing the index finger of your free hand to his lips to shush him. “Yeah, yeah, I got it, Grandmaster Jean’ll get suspicious…”

He blows on your finger to get you to retract it. When that doesn’t work, he pretends to bite at it, which is a lot more effective. “...I will tell her eventually. Just not now.”

“While you’re on the rocks,” You say with a nod, squeezing his hand. He sighs and nods as well. “But I still don’t think she’d fire you over who you’re dating.”

“Maybe not, but I don’t want to get any more on her bad side,” He mumbles. “She’s still annoyed about that floor I melted.”

“Didn’t you tell her that I was the one who made you drop the potion?” You ask, thinking back to that particular day - when you’d learnt that Albedo is very susceptible to your flirting when he’s in the middle of an experiment.

He shakes his head with a chuckle. “I didn’t think you’d appreciate me tattling. Besides, it isn’t like she punished me.”

“Well, you’re basically untouchable at the end of the day,” You comment, lying back in the grass and pulling Albedo with you. “It’s them who need you, not the other way around.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” He says, adjusting himself so that the two of you are pressed flush against each other. “If I hadn’t started working for them, we’d never have met.”

“We would have crossed paths eventually,” You say, smiling coyly when he turns his head to face you. “Though better sooner than later, I suppose.”

“Far better sooner,” He says, returning your smile with a much softer one. “I’m glad we did.”

Another dandelion seed drifts out of his hair and lands in the grass as you look at him. You'll be keeping this one for a long time, you decide. Probably forever. You like him.

You think he likes you, too.

#unedited #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin albedo #albedo x reader #fluff #i don't know what else to tag #uhhh #sappy #albedo's hair is so hard to draw for some reason #something about the gif for this one feels off and idk what #i'll come back to it later

[altcvnningham]

strings | johnny silverhand

summary: a storm passes through night city, but it isn't that which wakes her. it's the soft sound of guitar strings, being plucked by chrome fingers.

words: 1280

pairing: johnny silverhand / fem v (my v vana, but i avoid physical description, so read the name as whatever you like!!)

content: fluff, mild angst, Yearning™️, johnny plays guitar and it's rly therapeutic

warnings: SPOILERS, death mention, johnny shuts up for once so maybe mildly ooc, idk how guitars work

misc: soooo after listening to this on loop for the last forever, i just needed to vent and get this outta my system. i do use my v's name (vana) in this, but there's no physical description of her, so feel free to imagine v as your own!! also, it's been almost 4 years since i've officially posted any of my writing online, so while this is a little rough and not as detailed as i'd usually like, please be kind, and please enjoy!! (also ao3 link soon maybe but i'm lazy)

***

V doesn’t know what day it is when she awakes, but she does so to the quiet twang of guitar strings.

The metal blinds slide open, aware of her waking, and the morning spills into the room, dim and grey. Rain patters against the glass, and V, with her eyes still closed, curls deeper into the bedsheets to fend off the cold, away from the light towards the dark shelter of the wall. Night City can wait. She’ll enjoy this strange, soft music while it lasts.

Fingers pluck on quietly, nary a breath nor sigh to indicate the person playing. It’s a somber melody, a blue tune teased with the vague, cruel implication of hope, heartbreak, contentment. There‘s something in the way the music seems to move around the room and still the world, something timeless and calm yet so tenderly desperate about it- she feels sad and happy all at once, and suddenly, to be alive- to be dying- seems... a simple, given, painfully temporary thing. It’s a sweet, naïve tune. A fool’s song.

It cuts short.

Razor-sharp static screams in search for a signal. The strumming abruptly stops in response. The radio. It’s automated to switch on when she wakes up.

Then comes a final telltale sigh from the foot of her bed, as some garish pop song resonates brokenly through white noise. Must be a storm, she thinks. Howling wind outside her window confirms it.

A weight rises from the mattress- one that wasn’t there the night before, and V furrows her brows, braving the daylight and turning onto her side to see the figure lifting from the bed.

Chrome fingers curl around the neck of the cheap electric guitar as they prop the instrument back against the bed. A swelling ache closes around Vana’s chest. Loneliness. Separated from him by inches. Feeling without the one bound to the inside of her skull- it's agony.

Johnny. He crosses the room towards the radio in an aimless stride, and he staggers, tired. Vana briefly wonders- occupying her maddened, longing mind with something else- if he’s even capable of feeling that way, or if it’s her own waking lethargy that he feels, that clings to him. It’s usually like that with most things. And he switches the radio off, back arched downwards to reach it. Static finally turns to silence. She sees the thick lock of hair hanging in his eyes, and how he moves it with a careless jerk of his head before sauntering back to the bed again; peculiarly, he’s not wearing the bulletproof vest over his Samurai tank- the projection of the exact same faded shirt she wears now- and without the seemingly invincible façade, he almost looks... normal. Himself, maybe. Of course, when he descends back down to the end of the bed again, the blue glitched fragments of his engram form give him away. Yet somehow, unlike most times, seeing it puts her mind at ease. Not dreaming, at least.

With his back to her, Johnny picks the guitar back up and slings it weightlessly over his knee again. Out of thin air, he materialises a cigarette in his mouth, which wavers absentmindedly between pursed lips as he tunes the guitar and tests each string; Vana watches and remains completely still in her warm, blanket cocoon, not intent on interrupting this rare moment of peace. The rain drums on smoothly. Johnny pauses to pull the cigarette from his mouth. Exhale. Smoke joins in dancing alongside dust motes around the room, and Vana is happy to be alive today.

Johnny adjusts a silver ring on a flesh finger before touching the guitar’s strings again. He hesitates, stops, then straightens himself out before strumming the first note.

And then, it’s as if he loses himself to it- effortlessly playing that same melancholy tune from before without fault, without a sliver of uncertainty. His ‘ganic hand glides along each string with meticulous ease, metal fingers sliding and spreading along each fret, and the bleak light of the storm glints off of each chrome knuckle as he coaxes the music out to fill the quiet. And it's just this. The way in which he messily perfects such a common, mundane art. An ageless, timeless thing. No ugly, restless hand of Night City can snatch this away from her. The way his wrist flicks back with each note, how his hair crowds his face again as he nods slowly along, the heel he fails to notice he’s tapping in rhythm on the floor. For a moment, Johnny Silverhand’s real name lingers like a song in the back of her mind, as distant and unknown as this one, and she wonders if the person at the foot of her bed is him, that fragmented man lost in time.

Alt had said that Soulkiller does exactly by its name, that the soul dies the moment the consciousness is extracted. But watching him now, Vana refuses to believe that the glitched apparition at the foot of her bed is void of that, that same soul that inhabited the real Johnny Silverhand, that this engram isn’t as tangible and complex and real and feeling as she herself is. This projection of him, an amalgamation of every conscious want, need, thought and whim of a man who once existed- and this projection, he wakes up before her, on a morning as cold and grey and miserable as this, and plays a song for no discernible reason at all other than simply wanting to. Feeling like it.

No soul. She could weep- there's soul in every string.

Vana jostles free of the blanket and pushes herself forward, shifting to her knees. Johnny’s old dogtags, a relic of his past that dangle around her neck, clink together with each steady movement she makes towards him- terrified he’d stop playing for even a second- and she sits cross-legged behind him, facing the slender, flexing muscles of his back as he strums. She hugs herself, cold, shivering. He keeps playing. It’s bliss. She’s overcome with a sudden indescribable fondness, so much so that were she any braver in her vulnerability, any kinder to her feeling self, she’d let it bring a tear to her eye.

But Vana can only muster turning her head to the side, and resting her lonely cheek against the center of his back, desperate to feel every single breath that comes and leaves his vague, digital body. Perhaps it’s her own warmth she feels, reflecting back at her from Johnny’s feelings and senses, but she swears she feels him, hot beneath her cheek as though he were flesh and blood. The illusion is just enough that she doesn’t slip through him entirely. Perhaps, this will simply do.

Yes... fleeting as it is, as all things are, this moment is just... okay.

The song ends. Johnny plucks the final string. The chord fades out into a low, droning hum, until all that’s left is the rain on the window, the torrid rolling of the storm, and his calm, firm breaths, moving against her.

She forgets she's dying. And she would happily fall asleep again, right here, with the very thing that kills her, drinking in the song he’s let steep in the silence around them. But he slowly lowers the guitar, his body shifting beneath Vana’s unflinching cheek. Eyes fluttering shut once more, she feels him twist as he turns around, and how he catches her body in slacked repose, and finally- almost as if he wants to, as if he cares- the tangled threading of cold, metal fingers through her hair, towing her under the dark dwelling of sleep once more.

“I got you.”

#welp here it is #can't wait to hate this tomorrow #also i am...... Yearning.............. #vana #otp: dog tags #johnny silverhand #cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #cyberpunk #cp77 #cp 2077 #cyberpunk2077 #johnny silverhand x v #johnny x v #johnny silverhand x fem v #johnny x fem v #cyberpunk 2077 fic #cyberpunk 2077 spoilers #cp2077 spoilers #spoilers #uhhhhh #am i missing anything #my writing #mine #edit soon