#alright characters in order of appearance:

[ollypopwrites]

From Depths Unknown ; Part 3

Part 1 ⚜ Part 2 ⚜ Ao3

Rolan x F!Tav (AFAB, she/her) *Tav is a Storm Sorcerer, but no actual reference to her appearance.

Rating: E

Tags & Warnings: [18+ MDNI] Language, Canon-typical violence (there is a lot discussion of blood and injuries in this chapter), Major Character Death, Sexual Content (mostly just horny thoughts), background Bloodweave.

Chapter Summary:

Not even Moonrise Tower nor the Shadowcursed land had been this hectic. They dodged rains of incredible fire from dragons, psionic blast from nautiloids and falling debris from buildings crashing around them. Fighting their way through an army of cultists, mindflayers and intellectual devourers, her team felt as united as ever. Everyone felt the finality of it.

Notes: I wanted some whump, okay? I promise they will fuck eventually.

“Rolan? Really? I thought he hated your guts.” 

“You haven’t seen him pining from afar?” Shadowheart asked dramatically. 

“Honestly, Tav, he’s a decent bloke,” Wyll said. “A bit rough around the edges —“

“A bit?!” Karlach protested. 

“Alright, quite rough around the edges,” Wyll amended.

“And pompous,” Shadowheart added. 

“Completely up his own ass,” Karlach agreed.

“Alright!” Tav said, “I’ve told you all, nothing happened.” 

Her and Rolan had been camp gossip from the moment they had walked into their suite; Tav had a hangover and a strong need for coffee, while Rolan was stiff with embarrassment at the questioning looks from her companions. He couldn’t stay long, but they had food and tea and coffee, which was the least she could offer him. She remembered most of the night: the crying, yelling and him having to arrange a makeshift bed for her. As it was embarrassing as it was, she felt a little better getting it all off of her chest. The details were fuzzy, but she knew she had come on to him. While nothing untoward had happened, the camp only saw their leader come through the doors looking bedraggled with an equally out of sorts tiefling wizard. Tongues had been sent wagging immediately. 

“But you do fancy him, don’t you?” Karlach asked. 

She took a deep breath. “Can we focus on the task at hand?” 

“Only after you admit you want to shag the grumpy wizard,” Shadowheart teased. 

“Fine, fine!” Tav felt like tearing out her hair. “Yes, yes I like him. Okay. Can we move on now?” 

“Sheesh,” Karlach breathed. “Take him to bed, mate. You need it.”

She didn’t need Karlach to tell her that. She pushed on, ignoring them. Wyll, however, caught up quickly to her. 

“I won’t lie to you, my friend, he hasn’t made the best impression,” he told her. “But he’s truly a good man.” 

“I know that.” 

“So, are you going to come clean about what happened on the roof then?” He was grinning, boyish and mischievous. 

“Not you too, Wyll, please you were my last hope.”

Her only saving grace was that they found their way to an unusual engineer named Redhammer and his submersible, which happened to be the same culprit that had killed one the the priestesses of Umberlee. While she had half agreed to kill or hand him over if she found him, he offered an opportunity to find the hostage Gondians in the Iron Throne. Tav decided to take some inspiration from Astarion, using him to get down to the Iron Throne before she ultimately left his fate up to Umberlee's order. She thought she should have felt guilty, but he had been so casual about killing the priestess and transporting hostages she found herself lacking any real remorse. After the tadpole was out of her head, she thought she may have to reassess her moral compass. 

After saving the Gondians, Duke Ravengaurd himself and their old friend Omeluum she was happy to be alive and not blown to bits at the bottom of the Chionthar. The priestesses of Umberlee had even rewarded them with a beautiful robe in exchange for finding Redhammer. Gale was the only other person it would have been suited for and he was too embarrassed to wear it despite the entire camp teasing him about it. It was a bit risqué, but when Tav slipped it on she felt it cling to her body and the strange fabric was so damn comfortable she felt as if it were a second skin. She quite liked it. 

They made their way to Sorcerer’s Sundries, knowing the next day would be their chance to finish up the infiltration of the Steelwatch Foundry. Tav was sure Gortash would not bring the Steelwatch down on them right away. The last thing he needed was his army of metal titans tearing apart the city to find them, civilians would inevitably get hurt and then they would get angry. Gortash needed a city scared but ready to cling to a tyrant that could keep them safe, not ready to revolt for stepping on their children. They had to move, but she wanted to let him sweat and take time to get ready for their final push. 

The foundry, the hammer, the last Netherstone. Then the brain. There was finally a light at the end of the tunnel. 

Rolan was rarely in the shop these days. His mirror image had taken his position at the counter, helped along by the other specialists and Cal or Lia. Tav made her way upstairs; despite her pride she owed Rolan thanks for the night before and an apology for the teasing her friends had thrown his way in the wake of it. And she wondered if he’d like her new robes. It was silly, and pointless in the face of everything else that was going on but the desire was there, hiding behind her ‘noble’ reasons for disturbing him in the middle of the day. She made her way through the portal which led to the study Rolan was now using as his own office throughout the day. The blood, ash and bodies had all been cleared away — the decadent room was still in process of being redone to Rolan’s standards but it had come a long way since Lorroakan’s death. 

“Rolan?” She called. 

“A minute, please,” he replied from the balcony. 

Tav rolled her eyes, muttering about wizards and their books. She strolled about the room. He seemed to be in the process of organizing tomes, one of the animated suits of armor was picking up a stack piled on the ground and taking it through another portal. She recalled him mentioning a library, and wanting to cultivate his own favorites for the study. It was his, now, after all. 

“Please tell me you didn’t wear that into battle?”

When he had heard Tav’s voice carry through the study, he noted a lack of distinct irritation at being interrupted. Another sign that Tav was becoming worryingly exempt from his usual ‘prick-ish particularities’ as Cal had so kindly put it. He had just seen her that morning and as awkward as breakfast had been amongst her companions, he had to force himself to finish putting books on the shelf before heading down the stairs. He needed to retain some of his dignity, after all, despite his desire to eagerly stop everything he was doing at the sound of her voice. Tav waited for him below, and as usual, he took a mental note of any new injuries she may have acquired.

Robes with pieces of protective gear was what she normally wore. Soft leathers and sturdy cotton robes, with something to protect her vulnerable points. Even out of armor she usually only wore a simple tunic and cloth pants. His surprise to find her at the center of his study in an outfit that was all flesh and skin tight fabric made him stop in his tracks. The light blue ensemble clung to every curve, dipped low between her breasts (that damned pearl dangling at the center of her chest matched well with this new outfit, he noted), and was slit at the legs so all he saw was skin bared up to a concerning height on her thighs. Her worn leather boots stuck out, not quite fitting in with the sleek outfit, but that did nothing to preserve him from staring dumbly. 

His momentary gawking was interrupted when he realized this scrap of fabric was meant to be armor. All the soft spots of her were exposed to cuts and bruises. 

“Please tell me you didn’t wear that into battle?”

“You don’t like it?”

“That’s hardly the point I’m trying to make,” he said quickly. 

“Then what is the point?”

“Don’t be stupid,” he said. “You can’t wear that in a fight. It’s…” 

Ravishing. So easy to slide aside so I could have any part of you I wanted, he thought. 

“Impractical.” He said aloud. 

“And you decide what I wear now?”

“No,” he replied through grit teeth. “Of course not.”

“Well, I like it.” Tav shrugged him off, turning away and walking around to look at his progress in the study. 

The dress was just as tight in the back, he noticed, his mind reeling and his pulse thrumming. “Where did you even get it?”

“It was a gift from the priestesses of Umberlee,” she said. 

“And what, pray tell, did you do to earn it?” 

“Freed some hostages in a prison at the bottom of the Chionthar and found the man who killed one of their order.” She listed casually. “Duke Ravenguard was down there, if you can believe it. And then Archduke Gortash, magnanimous man that he is, tried to blow us up,” her tone dripped with sarcasm, “it’s been quite a day.”

“Your usual heroics, then,” he grit out. 

“Of course,” she grinned, and everything about the smile was a challenge, a tease, and he was certain he never wanted her so badly. “I know you love to hear about my gallantry. Not bad for a girl who started the day with a terrible hangover, I think.”

“Is there a point to your visit?” He asked tersely. 

“Actually, yes,” she finally came up to him. 

Close enough to touch. The fabric looked soft, and shimmery, probably pleasant enough to run his hands over but the exposed space between her breasts seemed particularly ripe for licking. His jaw clenched as he made the Herculean effort to look her in the eyes. The teasing look she had before was gone, something a little more bashful and sweet. It only made it harder to keep his hands to himself. 

“I wanted to say thank you for last night.” She said, “I don’t remember all of it… but I know I was not at my best. Thanks for putting up with me, and sorry my friends are busybodies.” 

Rolan didn’t know what to say. A whirlwind was inside him. Pure want and affection. Irritation at said want and affection. Irritation at himself for not being able to just say what he wanted to. This was all getting entirely out of hand. 

“How is your arm?”

“My….arm?”

“You’re still scarred, from that ring you so foolishly put on when you had no idea what it did,” he snapped. 

“Oh, that,” she deflated. “Fine. Just these marks,” she pushed back the sleeves of the robe to look at them. “Gale thinks it was some kind of connection to the elemental plane.” At his responding silence she shifted awkwardly. “Okay,” she drew out the word, “I’m going to go.” 

“Goodbye.”

He stayed to watch her go, eyes glued to the way the robes clung to her bottom, the shift of the fabric and delicate metalwork over her exposed legs. 

“You can’t wear that,” he blurted out. “Not in battle. You’ll be ripped to shreds.”

And so would the robe itself, which would be a terrible shame in and of itself, the more he thought about it.

“You said that already.” 

“It bears repeating.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Goodbye, Rolan.” 

As she stepped through the portal and he was left alone he groaned, rubbing both hands over his face, as he muttered to himself, “you’re going to kill me you meddlesome, irritating, beautiful woman.” 

While there had been little notice before the Netherbrain broke free and started unleashing terror on the city, Tav had at least warned her allies ahead of time that it could happen any day at any time. With Rolan’s permission, Counselor Florrick had spread the word that the tower was going to be one point of haven in the city. It had protections and wards, and plenty of space. When all hells broke loose, Cal and Lia were holding down the fort while he made his way to High Hall. Thankfully most of the fighting was happening in the upper city, but mind flayers were running rampant, the sky was red with fire, full of errant blasts from nautiloids and dragons. 

He sent civilian healers as he found them to the tower, instructing them to take whoever they could with them. The high hall was crowded, Flaming Fists taking account of all the allies of Tav’s which had gathered. Many of them he recognized, some he had never seen before, but his heart swelled with pride at the gathering of people who were ready to support Tav and her friends. 

When she came through the door with all her camp in tow, smattered in blood, as she always was, he thought she may cry at the showing. There wasn’t much time, but she took a moment to appraise them of her plan. Her entire party would take the main push to the brain, along with the illithid she had with her. There was no time to explain, she only assured them that this person — Orpheus, was on their side. She needed anyone she did not call to her side to focus on protecting the few points of refuge they had managed to secure in the city, and above all to keep as many civilians safe as possible. She was given means to summon her allies as needed.

As Tav made the quick effort to offer thanks to everyone individually, he felt the terror of it being the last time he saw her. This was not the Tav which he’d had drinks with at the Elfsong every night leading up to this battle, laughing with her friends, carefree for just a few hours. This was the woman who had lead four people to victory against a small army of Goblins, who stormed Moonrise towers and lifted the curse over Reithwin. Focused, determined and if she was scared it never once showed on her face. Only the storm dancing behind her eyes, calm before she exploded into action. 

Rolan had to believe the next time he’d see her, she would be relaxed and teasing him about something over a glass of wine. As she approached him last, before heading out to save the city, he bolstered himself to be whatever she and the rest of the people of Baldur’s Gate needed. 

“The tower is ready, you need only call.” He told her swiftly. 

“Thank you.” She nodded. “Rolan, I — “ she bit her lip and clenched her eyes shut. “If I survive this —“

“You will,” he said certainly. 

“If I do,” she repeated, eyes boring into his with earnesty he hardly knew how to deal with, “would you like to join me for a bottle of Arabellan Dry?”

“Are you asking me on a date? Right now?” As if to punctuate his point the ground shook, horrible screeching sounds and the roar of a dragon sounded out. 

“Might be my last chance,” she breathed. 

“It won’t be,” he insisted. If she was going to be bold enough to ask him out for a drink before running off to certain death — he had to rise to the challenge. He grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips. “You’ll come back to me, gloriously and infuriatingly victorious.”

If he said it confidently enough it may just come true. It had worked for him before.

Tav nodded, squeezing his hand in hers. She hesitated, but there was little time for more to be said. She suddenly began to dig under the collar of her armored robes with her free hand. After fidgeting for a moment with something around her neck she held out the chain of the necklace which held her Pearl of Power. 

“Can you hold onto it for me? I don’t want to lose it again.” 

“You may need it,” he was unsure what else to say. 

“Already used it today,” she said, “it’s just sentimental right now. And just — hold onto it. Please.” 

Tav took his hand and placed the necklace into his palm, gently curling his fingers over it. It was such a small trinket, but the implications of her leaving it with him made it feel immeasurably valuable. He thought he would rather die than let it come to any harm. The dramatics of such a train of thought struck him so violently with the realization that he was undoubtedly in love. The terrible timing for such an epiphany was only emphasized by a loud boom on the roof and the shudder of dust and small bits of debris raining down on them.

Tav let go of his hand and with a determination in her eye he knew all too well, led her party out into the midst of terror with no other word. 

There was no time to stop. 

Not even Moonrise nor the Shadowcursed land had been this hectic. They dodged rains of incredible fire from dragons, psionic blast from nautiloids and falling debris from buildings crashing around them. Fighting their way through an army of cultists, mindflayers and intellectual devourers, her team felt as united as ever. Everyone felt the finality of it. She had seen Astarion and Gale share what they thought might possibly be their last kiss. Watching them felt like an intrusion, but the glance she had gotten of desperate softness in their eyes made her more determined than ever. Tav silently vowed that she would come out of this with everyone alive and ready to begin anew. 

When they finally found the  stalk of the Elderbrain it led higher and higher up over the city. She felt the adrenaline spurring her to start to climb, and she didn’t have to look behind her to know they followed. At the top it was an onslaught of psionic forces: the netherbrain, the illithids it commanded, and the tadpoles in their heads revolting at every move they made to fight against them. There were moments that blanked out, as she was stunned or her head hurt so badly she felt she couldn’t see. They were all moving on pure instinct to survive. 

Karlach’s rage was an unstoppable force, Lae’zel cut down anyone in her path with brutal efficiency, and the only thing more intense than the amount of healing magic Shadowheart was expending was the force with which she brought down her mace. Jaheira and Halsin were in charge of summoning reinforcements as needed, controlling the battlefield with Druidic magic while Gale sent off spell after spell with devastating effect. Astarion and Wyll danced around the battlefield; Wyll’s combined magic and skill with the blade making him virtually untouchable while Astarion flitted in and out of visibility, daggers digging into flesh with deadly accuracy. 

And she exploded with magic. 

Her arm hurt, the flowing lines of whatever had touched her when she put on that ring in the tower glowed and raged as she gave everything she had. When she felt she had nothing left, it fed her new power, keeping a steady stream of lightning ready to strike. There was not a lot of time to think on this new development, only time to acknowledge that whatever it did to her, her magic was thriving on it. Her magic felt centered for the first time in her life. Controllable, not just something she was barely wrangling and flinging around blindly. 

The last push to the crown was upon them. The way just needed to be cleared, she called to Halsin over the clamor of it all, tadpole transmitting to the others her plan. In truly rumbling cacophony explosions rained down, almost clearing their path. For a moment she took in the show of power from Ramazith’s Tower, but they had to bolt forward. 

Lae’zel took the lead, attacking an illithid arcanist guarding the portal they needed to get into. Gale was quick behind her, magic missiles firing off in every direction and counterspell quickly cast afterwards. Karlach was keeping the way clear, as more illithid were summoned, hacking at tentacled heads until they rolled off. Tav took off for the portal, only to come face to face with her father. 

No. It was her dream guardian. The Emperor’s trick. 

When she had first seen the man in her dreams she had thought the same thing: he was just similar looking enough to her dear old dad to get her guard down but not so identical it would ring off alarm bells in her mind. Tav’s father was dead, after all, the Emperor had toed the line of familiarity on purpose. The single moment of hesitation was enough for the guardian to blast her with psionic energy, knocking her off of her feet.  An intellect devourer took its chance and leapt onto her. Searing pain spread through her abdomen as claws dug in and tore. It was climbing up her body, ripping skin with every step. Her arm was pinned underneath one of its horrid legs, unable to cast, and she felt the thunderous pulse in her chest, the tingle of electricity in her veins — and then a dagger came down stopping the devourer in its tracks.

Astarion was above her, kicking the thing off of her. With a cry she felt the claws slip loose, blood pouring out of the wounds. The pain slipped away to the back of her mind as she flung forward, hands outstretched  when a chain of lightning erupted at another dream guardian which tried to stop Gale. Astarion helped her to her feet, shoving a meager healing potion at her. It was not enough to close the wounds, but it gave her a rush of new vitality and they ran for the portal

This was it. This was the final task. All they had to do was survive long enough to take out the Netherbrain. 

After setting off the blasts at Halsin’s command, Rolan had launched himself halfway down the stairs, nearly stumbling and stepping on his own tail. There were a handful of Flaming Fists, armed civilians, Cal, Lia and even Aradin guarding the perimeter of the tower; he had to go join them. The store was always chaotic with all the summons wandering around and magical effects but this was a different vein of mayhem. Anyone he could find with healing magic along the way was running around, people were screaming and crying on the floors and any clear surface available. 

It sounded like Elturel. 

Shaking his head of the thought, he pushed through the doors. People were still running, trying to get through the doors of the tower and whatever building still stood to get away from the carnage. The square was full of bodies and blood and rubble. He spotted Cal and Lia, both alive and fighting well. Cal’s swing was strong, Lia’s aim was impeccable — he was able to focus on casting. An illithid floated forward, chasing after a meal of one of the Flaming Fists' brains, Rolan quickly cast color spray, confusing the creature and shortly after one of Lia’s arrows sunk into its elongated head.

Cal got stunned, his head in his hands as he wobbled on his feet, two mindflayers floating towards him. Rolan nearly tripped over his robes to grab his brother by his shirt and pull him back, Cal fell and as soon as he was out of the line of attack Rolan felt the boom of thunder erupt from his hand. The illithids were sent backwards, landing on their back, prone. 

“Cal,” he turned to offer a hand to his brother, “stay steady.” 

“Yeah,” Cal grunted, shaking his head free of the psionic force which had stunned him. “I’m good, I’m alright.” 

“Rolan! Incoming!” 

Lia’s voice called out before she let an arrow loose. His eyes flicked to the sky, a nautiloid was overhead, a beam of some sort beginning to glow with energy. 

“To me! Now!”

Aradin and anyone nearby enough to hear him huddled close, Rolan swiftly casting an orb of invulnerability. He had never cast it before, not successfully, but it was all he could think of to try. A slight red shimmer created a bubble around them, the nautiloid made its attack. A few people were decimated by the blow immediately outside of the orb, even a ravenous illithid in the middle of extracting a brain from a skull had not made it out of the way in time. The spell worked. Rubble flew into the air with the blast, and stopped bluntly at the barrier. 

Thank the Gods. Rolan thought to himself, sweat beading down his temple. 

Lia ducked in and out of the orb to shoot off arrows, clearing the path for some to make their way to the tower or within the confines of Rolan’s temporary protection. He managed to keep the orb up long enough for the blasts to cede after the nautiloid was distracted from attacking the ground by a Githyanki force of dragon riders. 

“There’s more coming!” Aradin yelled. “We should fall back into the tower.”

“The wards can only take so much,” Rolan snapped back. “Get out there and kill something or get out of the way!”

He never understood Zevlor’s well-known ire for the mercenary more as he fled inside. As he had said, more illithids came out of the woodwork. The alien army had not found it necessary to send any armored mind flayers — relying on the freshly transformed tadpoled masses which had been lurking in the city. They had numbers, but most of them were stark naked, and sloppy in the unusual new bodies. Many of them fell quickly, which was his only comfort against the slowly dwindling numbers of his own allies. If they just kept it up, they could maintain the line of defense around the tower. 

“Come on, Tav,” he heard Lia scream as another Flaming Fist fell to an illithid. “Just kill it already!” 

There was no way for Tav to hear them, but he understood the panic. He felt each second that passed since he set off the blasts from the tower as if it were an hour. They could not keep this up forever, and part of him knew that as intense as it was on the ground, up there where the brain hovered in the air it was ten times worse. 

“Tav needs us to hold strong,” he called to his sister. “We owe her that, at least.” 

Lia was too far away for him to be sure but thought he saw her jaw set in the same way Cal’s did when he was concentrating. His brother felled an illithid in one blow, clean and easy at the neck. 

“Can’t believe I’m saying this,” Cal said, “but Rolan is right!”

It truly was the end of the world.

When Tav hit the water, she blacked out for a moment. Her eyes opened and the gasp that wracked her body filled her mouth and lungs with water as she realized too late in her waking that she was in the Chionthar. She floundered to the surface, hacking and coughing. Once she had her breath, she started screaming for her companions.

“Here!” Gale yelled.

He was not too far off from her, hanging onto some floating debris, with an unmoving lump with white hair. She swam over, grabbing onto the debris. 

“Is he alive?” She panicked. 

“Breathing,” Astarion’s voice was weak, “stop screaming.”

“Where’s everyone else?” Tav felt herself succumbing to the confusion. “Karlach! Have you seen anyone? Wyll!”

“I’ve got Shadowheart and Wyll!” She heard Karlach call, a red spot in the distance, tethering two limp bodies as she kept them on their backs. 

Lae’zel, Halsin, Minsc and Jaheira were still unaccounted for. Tav’s eyes scanned the water, dawn hadn’t broken yet, it was still dark and the depths below were impossible to see into. The only real light was provided by the city which was still very much on fire. Just as Tav was about to give into despair, a giant tentacle broke the water, then another, in its grips was an unconscious Lae’zel, and Minsc who was sputtering and cackling like a madman. Finally a third, and Halsin broke the surface. 

“Minsc! Where’s Jaheira?”

“You look upon her!” He called back. 

Wild shape was one hell of a thing. Tav called to the giant octopus whose eye peered into hers as it breached the surface, telling Jaheira to grab Karlach first as she was treading water and trying to keep two people afloat at the same time. Tav watched, only vaguely hearing Astarion and Gale speaking next to her. She needed to see them all safely put upon the dock, she needed to know she had done it. She hadn’t lost anyone. 

“Stop trying to talk to me,” Astarion muttered. “I’m furious with you.”

“My love, I would have made sure you were transported out of harm's way,” Gale attempted to sooth him. 

“And what about you?” Astarion snapped. “What was I supposed to do without you?” 

She was not quite sure what they were talking about. 

“We were losing, Astarion,” Gale pleaded. “The orb may have been—“

“The orb?” Tav heard her neck crack as she swung her head so fast to look at him. She felt dizzy. 

“He very nearly blew himself up, again,” Astarion seethed. “I saw him reach for the dagger.” 

“Gale!” Tav scolded. “I told you — not an option!”

“Tav, please, if all else failed —“

“But it didn’t!” She yelled. 

“No,” he sighed. “No, it did not. So please, can we make it to land and put this to rest.” 

Just as Tav was about to argue with him, she felt a tug at her midsection, and uncomfortable stinging of pain accompanying the grasp. Astarion and Gale were lifted out of the water by tentacles  at the same time she was and they were being slowly carried to the dock. It was supposed to be over once they all made it on dry land. She had given in to the hope that she had finally led her party to their final battle without losing a single member. The victory was supposed to be sweet, and cathartic. 

The moment they caught their breath on the dock, Karlach’s engine started to fail. 

The main floor of the store was cleared of most furniture to make room for cots full of injured people. Amateur and professional healers alike were running around madly, calling for aid from whoever was still standing. To his credit, he had begun to organize as best he could. It was still chaos, but he was managing to take requests, send off whatever volunteer was nearest to assist, and have Cal take on grabbing potions and herbs from the stores as needed. Rolan was no healer, but he could wrap a wound before too much blood was lost as some poor soul waited for someone to be available. He could also bark orders, arrange for Fists to section off high risk patients from those who could survive without immediate attention. 

There were two surgeons he had managed to recruit. Their space was at the very back near the necromancy supplies were, with a temporary shielding wall of stone. It didn’t drown the screams of agony as they operated but it prevented anyone from witnessing an amputation. 

When the heroes of the hour burst through the door of the tower, even amongst the chaos, Rolan knew something was wrong. They looked like hell. Jaheira was bleeding from a deep wound on her head, Shadowheart was limping, and even Minsc who was always quick to get back on his feet looked like he had been thrown from a twenty story building and felt it. A good chunk of the party was missing. Wyll and Karlach were nowhere to be seen. In fact way too many of them were just gone. Astarion, Gale and Lae’zel didn’t follow, and neither did Tav. Halsin was the very last of them in, carrying someone.

“A bed! Now!” The Archdruid’s voice boomed over the chaos

A humming sound rang in his ears, the entire world pinpointed to the form of the woman in Halsin’s arms as he was directed to place her on a free bed by a Fist. 

Rolan let his feet guide him to her side, a numb feeling keeping panic at bay. On the bed was a bloody mess of a woman, who in all appearances looked like Tav but… That surely wasn’t his Tav. That was an empty shell; the skin had no vibrancy, the only truly bright color was the blood leaking out of the deep wound in her stomach. Her eyes, open staring up at the ceiling, were empty. 

Shadowheart placed her hands over Tav and the glow of her healing magic flashed and ebbed away. She tried again, but the magic stuttered out. Shadowheart let out a strangled scream in frustration, pounding glowing hands into Tav's chest and each rush of power was weaker and weaker.

“What are you doing? Heal her,” Rolan demanded. “Fix her!”

“I can’t —“ Shadowheart’s voice cracked. 

“Shadowheart’s magic is spent,” Jaheira’s tone was sharp but even, the voice of a General. “And healing magic won’t work on her now. This is a magic shop — find a resurrection scroll.” 

Resurrection implied she was dead. Logically, yes, he could see that. Tav was dead, nothing more than spent flesh and blood. But this was not supposed to happen, this was beyond everything he knew of her.

She always survives. She always does the impossible. She can't be dead.

“How did this happen?”

“Rolan,” Shadowheart pleaded his name, disregarding the question, “do you have a resurrection scroll?” 

The buzzing in his ears stopped, the cacophony of the tower coming back to him. A solution that he could focus on. He took off in a sprint, jumping over the counter. His hands shook as he opened the safe where they kept the high value scrolls.  

“Rolan, that Florrick lady is here, she brought some — what’s wrong?”

He didn’t hear Lia come up, and didn’t take the time to acknowledge her as he started reading through the stock. “We must have one.”

“Talk to me,” Lia said again getting his attention, “what’s happened?”

An idea jolted him, there were stores and stores of supplies in the study. “Upstairs, in the study, the scroll collection —“ he quickly said, “we need a resurrection scroll.”

“But —“

“Check the vaults, check the study — find me a resurrection scroll!” 

Taking in his frantic tone, Lia ran off without further question. There was no possible way this was how Tav’s story ended. In a numb haze he remembered what little he knew about healing and divine magic; there was a time limit on a basic resurrection spell. At some point a soul was too far gone and True Resurrection would be the only other option. Plain resurrection scrolls were rare enough as it was, but a True Resurrection scroll was near impossible for most people to get ahold of. 

Chain of lightning, hold person, cloud kill — his hands fumbled to work as fast as he read the scrolls. He had no real idea how much time was passing, but each second was too long. There were dozens of scrolls, and he looked at each one. Finding nothing of use he ran around the counter to start up the stairs.

He should have told her at High Hall. He should have just said it. He should have thought to find a scroll ahead of time for this very purpose. What a cosmic joke, for her to have made it this far, only to die at the finish line. She deserved better. He would make sure she got a better ending than this. He nearly ran into Lia jumping the last few steps of the staircase. 

“I found one!” 

She held up the scroll and he snatched it out of her hand, narrowly dodging a healer as he ran to the bed where Shadowheart was praying desperately. 

“Found — the scroll —“ he stammered out, short of breath. 

“Use it, quickly,” Jaheira said. 

His fingers fumbled with the clasp that held it shut, as it unfurled he knew he needed to breathe through the panic in his chest. He could do an incantation, he could read the words off of a scroll as he had a hundred times before. There was not a God he prayed to usually, not one he thought to plead with specifically. Mystra, maybe. But given what he knew of her and her friends, Mystra might not be so inclined to help Tav. 

His willpower would have to be enough; this was not how her story ended, he repeated to himself. She was too good, too resilient, too kind, too forgiving, too infuriatingly wonderful — too loved.  Rolan was not going to let her disappear that easily, he vowed as he spoke the incantation.

The spell took hold, golden light shuddering Tav’s body, and then disappearing. For a terrifyingly long moment, he was unsure if it worked. But her eyes blinked, at first it looked like a twitch, but then they fluttered a few times and the light was back in them. Her limbs jolted like she had been electrocuted and then a truly shocking deep gasp for air had her sitting up on the cot. 

“There you are, Cub,” Jaheira said, a steady hand on her shoulder which emitted the familiar green light of her Druidic magic. “Didn’t think we’d let you get out of cleaning up, did you?”

“Hurts,” she sucked breaths in desperately. 

“Lay down,” Shadowheart said. “We’ll find a healer.”

“Where —?”

Rolan was frozen to the spot. She still looked so close to death. Her head swiveled over to him, eyes confusedly still searching for some sense of what was going on. 

“You.” Was all she said. 

“Yeah, me,” he breathed. “Lay down. You look awful.”

“Rude,” she wheezed but let herself ease onto her back. “I think you look… good…” exhaustion, pain or any combination of whatever her body was going through had her slipping out of consciousness. 

“Tav,” Rolan panicked, kneeling next to her. “Damn you, stay awake,” he grabbed her face in his hands and she gave him a heavy lidded stare. 

“Trying,” she said. 

She was still in rough shape. Halsin and Jahiera dumped the last dregs of their limited healing magic into her, doing just enough to keep her from bleeding out on the bed once more. Shadowheart tipped her head back for a basic healing potion, and it dribbled down the side of her face but it brought some of the vibrancy of her skin.

“She won’t succumb to the wounds, but she needs healing quickly,” Halsin seemed to be talking to himself more than them, as he took off to find someone to help. 

“You can rest now,” Shadowheart assured her softly. “Right, Rolan?” 

He wasn’t so sure. But Shadowheart was a healer, she knew better than him. He swallowed hard, and nodded. “That’s right.”

“Good,” Tav mumbled, “tired.” 

Shadowheart and Rolan watched as she slipped into unconsciousness. Her chest rose and fell, although shallowly. Shadowheart heaved a big breath, recomposing herself. She looked around the room, and then to Rolan.

“I need to rest, then I’ll be able to help,” she seemed to be telling herself rather than him. “I’ll stay here,” she said, “I’ll stay with her and rest.”

“What can I do?” Rolan asked desperately. 

“You are the Master of Ramazith’s tower,” Jahiera cut in. “This is your city, you have a duty to its people now — unless you wish to follow Lorroakan’s example, get to work.” Jaheira looked down at Tav, “we will look after her, as she has looked after us.”

Rolan never felt more like an outsider, and he felt he should watch whatever healer Halsin found. If only to see for himself that she was truly going to be alright. Shadowheart was watching the rise and fall of her chest with intense focus, and it felt wrong that she was the only one of their original group by her side. 

“Rolan, there’s a fire that they can’t put out over in Heapside,” Cal was there, Rolan hadn’t even heard him approach. 

“There’s summoning scrolls, water elementals,” he said distractedly. 

“Go,” Shadowheart looked at him. “We’ve got her.”

“And that is supposed to be a comfort?” He snapped. “She was dead just moments ago under your watch!”

“She didn’t tell us,” Shadowheart said back, a tone of shame in her raised voice. “Everything was happening so fast — she didn’t tell us she was hurt!”

“No one here is to blame,” Jaheira was annoyed, he could tell by the arch of her brow. “She would tell you the same.”

He felt another comment on the tip of his tongue, ready to rage and yell to do something with the gods awful feeling in his chest. He nearly lost her. 

“Rolan,” Cal said, “we have to —“

“Fine! Fine.” 

The city still needed saving, despite the threat being gone. Who knew how much help was needed across the city. Running to everyone's rescue was what she would tell him to do, but still he was afraid to leave her side. He touched her cheek: warm, alive, despite looking worse than she ever had after a fight. 

“She’ll be alright?” He asked, wincing slightly at the desperate crack in his voice. 

Shadowheart nodded, her hand coming to squeeze his, “I promise, I won’t let her slip away again.”

Rolan had no other choice but to trust her.

Thank you for reading!

Next Chapter

#rolan x reader #rolan x tav #bg3 fanfiction #rolan fanfic #olly writes

[yan-lorkai]

Hi hiii I'm the anon that requested the Charlie! Reader and I was wondering- would it be weird to ask for a Adam! Reader with yan! Idia, Leona, Malleus, and Vil? (If you it's too many feel free to remove anyone! ^^)

And can I be Beanie anon? If it's alright?

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: It's not weird at all. Adam has it's charms though he isn't one of my favorites character so this end up a little short. Also yes, you absolutely can be Beanie anon (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

The first human, the one who saw everything and did everything. An angel of the highest rank, despite all his arrogance, superb character and foul vocabulary, you find yourself trapped here, still doing things your way, ordering and mocking everyone. Some students hate you, others love you.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ For Vil, you are incorrigible. Someone he doesn't see why he loves as intensely as he does. Or maybe it's just because you two are so different that he feels curious at first and then interested. Still, there are many things you must work on to achieve your best, many things he will make you change, no matter what techniques he has to use. Doesn't care about your status but he does get curious about heaven. What does it look like? Did humans portray heaven right? As much as he is the one manipulating and twisting the threads to control you, Vil is also curious and someone as old and "wise" as you could use that to silence him.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Idia... Idia finds you intimidating, out of his reach, a UR+ card he'll never get no matter how much he farms and pulls. He starts watching you soon after you appear in this world, waiting to see what he would have to deal with if your paths ever crossed. You are intriguing, strong and confident, everything he is not, everything he wanted to be. He is a little surprised when he finds out about your high status and angel powers, but he is confident that he can defeat you and lock you inside STYX if you ever have to fight.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He doesn't care about your angel status, your powers, about heaven or the purge that takes place annually in hell. Leona doesn't care about any of that, preferring to think and plan how to shut you up when you go on and on about how you're the first human and everything you've ever seen and done. Due to your different powers, Leona tends to use more physical force against you, which usually ends in a draw since you both are strong. But you love the challenge, teasing and mocking him. "How bold of you, Kingscholar, trying to kidnap the first human!" How does it end? With a headache for Leona, so many people for him to obsess over and he fell in love with this troublesome angel.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Malleus think you're funny and he likes to watch you interact with your peers. He is like a researcher watching its subject doing random things, being fascinated. He does not mind your status but offer to help with the purge that happens in hell if you want. He would also like to hear you talking about whatever you have seen and done as you are older than him. Talk about heaven, about the earth, about anything you like, he'll hear you with a smile on his face the whole time. Though if you both fight someday he straight up just use his unique magic to trap you inside a dream.

#beanie anon #twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere vil #yandere idia #yandere leona #yandere malleus #yandere vil x reader #vil x reader #yandere idia x reader #idia x reader #yandere leona x reader #leona x reader #yandere malleus x reader #malleus x reader #vil x yuu #vil x mc #leona x mc #leona x yuu #malleus x mc #malleus x yuu #idia x mc #idia x yuu #lorkai headcanons

[baellielurk]

pov you're seated at a dinner table and these are the other guests wdyd

#rare art post. as promised #made for chapter four of interactive tome of strahd cuz i thought hey. why not a visual novel #alright characters in order of appearance: #lady ilona darovnya #strahd von zarovich #sergei von zarovich #tatyana federovna #patrina velikovna #rahadin #no! that's not how i like to draw strahd! i just had to finish it in approx 30 minutes before the session #rahadin is specifically young here that's why he's missing some of his features #i imagine he got his fun forehead scar at a later date than this #also if anyone clocks what outfit sergei's is heavily inspired by no you didn't. unsee it now. #patrina #my beloved #i love her so much and also one of my players put it so well #patrina: queen of the universe #kasimir: wet tissue #ah one more tag #curse of strahd #strahdtober #strahdtober2023 #cos #ravenloft #my art

[vulpinesaint]

want to post on ao3. don't want to write things to post on ao3. want to post on ao3.

#*starts another longform witcher fanfic* #i'm incorrigible i have a problem i just can't stop #series continuation too. 'i can stop whenever i want! i won't write more of this character!' #and then i was Wrong. humiliating. #anyway ummmmm kgdfghs somehow my brain is NOT enthusiastic about having to write another 25k piece like that piece will be. #sucks enough already having to get 6k words down before i can post a chapter for my current wip </3 #and then i'm ignoring jaskier fic entirely rn. awful. terrible. #it's alright jaskier i uh. i'll have a Second longform fic going for you soon. and then it'll balance out i prommy #terrible terrible terrible!! why must i create in order to have content to show people! #writing should just appear in my google docs overnight for me to post #fanfic #valentine notes

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Just Friends (König x F!Reader)

How to Escape the Friendzone 2/4 (Word count 5.3 k)

Summary: König is a horny, creepy killing machine obsessed with a shy, kind reader who has a raging knife kink.

Tags/warnings: 🔞 Eventual smut, eventual violence, angst, dark romance, canon divergence. Crack treated seriously. Yandere undertones, implied stalking, panty stealing, major character death, size kink, voyeurism, possessive sex, twisted, fluffy feelings. Loner boy/gentle girl dynamic. Protective!Obsessive!Top!König. Reader works as a cleaner at the base. She is described to have hair and prefers to wear dresses off work. Not safe or sane but mostly consensual.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Massive arms go about her as she's pulled against a lean chest. It's an awkward, tense hug. He smells of open air and coppice, with a whiff of acrid sweat on top as she lays her head somewhere between the bumps of muscle of a warm chest.

Not even the body heat makes him appear more human: his heart is not pounding as fast as she thought it would after making it clear he would score some tonight.

She fears she's dealing with a sociopath. Might even be a psychopath.

"Are you still afraid?"

"I don't know." Her breaths are everything but steady as she inhales the intoxicating scent of a madman.

"Don't be scared. I will only hurt those who wish to hurt you."

His pledge renders her weak; it makes her legs shake. She gets far more than she bargained for when pulling him in to give her a little late-night comfort.

Friends with benefits is a situation bad enough, but this is not okay. The guy's fixation seems boundless, and if she tries to wriggle out of this… relationship and starts seeing someone else, it might end up in König scrubbing the potential future love interest's guts off his shoes.

And something in the idea isn't even wholly appalling.

Good God…

"I don't want you to hurt anyone," she whispers like it isn't his day-to-day job – to hurt and kill people. She is on the verge of collapsing to the floor and stays upright only because he holds her in authoritarian embrace.

"Little angel, it's what I do." He releases her only enough to bow his head and look into her eyes. His stare betrays slight distaste. Those eyes are calm mirrors of how can someone be so naive.

"You come to me if someone is mean to you," he orders in a stern voice that makes her feel faint.

"Alright," she breathes a fluent little lie. He's satisfied with her answer, however, and presses her head back against him with effortless control.

She imagines him knifing someone with a listless stare from sparing a glance her way; she fantasizes him strangling some chauvinistic moron in the darkness after they have been "mean" to her. Quickening breaths betray her sick thoughts to him because he pulls her even closer. She can feel the enormous cock pressing against her body with a promise of violence.

"Angel… I wish you would stop teasing me."

"Yeah?" Her laugh is restrained, and her heart is racing inside her chest – like it's some kind of a good idea to have a heart attack while a murderous psycho turning into a boyfriend is in the same room with her. "Where's the fun in that…?"

"Do you always tease men like this?"

"No," she swallows a mouthful of woodland and musk. "Just you."

"Hm."

"König… Can I see your face?"

The man finally seems to find his reserve again. He detaches from her, and she can hear the audible gulp inside the hood.

"Maybe later."

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other like he usually does when he's a bit nervous. Probably to ease the discomfort from still being forced into those pants with such an astoundingly large, swelling erection, too.

She can't come up with anything that might explain why the man is so uncomfortable with showing his face. From the small glimpse she saw in the showers, everything looked completely normal. There is some other reason why he wants to wear the mask, most likely some mental block, and she would simply have to wait until he's ready and willing to take it off.

"How about a kiss?"

He doesn't shake his head or escape her as she hesitantly steps toward him and raises a hand to the hem of his hood.

"If I just…"

He does nothing as she starts to raise the mask. The look in his eyes is somewhat haunted, though.

She lifts it just enough to reveal a clean-shaven chin and a pair of thin, tightly shut lips. She briefly notices that there's a scar on his jaw before his mouth opens to call her in. They're polar opposites of each other: she feels breathless and limp when their lips meet while he's a statue of rigid power. Even his mouth is tense as she catches his bottom lip between hers and tries to soften that immortal stiffness. Distant notes of hops catch her tongue just before he pulls her back into a crushing hug.

The guy is not the most perfect kisser. He's very avid, though. In fact, his eagerness is what makes it a scary experience, what makes the kiss clumsy. He smashes his lips on hers with force, then opens his mouth so wide she fears he will devour half her face.

The ungloved hands slide down her back and cup her ass. He's gentle, but she still feels like she's levitating, half an inch above the ground from his groping. He moans like they are already having sex, but before she can disconnect herself from the violent kiss, he does it for her.

"I want to fuck you," he pants across her lips, eyes half-lidded and drunk. "Can I fuck you?"

The man has no conception of how to dance these dances. He simply declares his wish to shove his junk inside her and kill those who might do her harm. She feels dizzy in his arms, like dew that will evaporate under too much heat.

"Yeah, yes," she tries to sound sane, although there's nothing sane about this.

So much for being just friends or being nothing at all…

Her heart is beating faster and faster; it wants to rend itself out of her chest. She feels ample sweat between her thighs, then realizes it's only her own wetness that has broken through the cotton of her underwear. The dress is so tight in the middle that she can't simply try and throw it over her head, and the buttons at the front seem to have suddenly become too big to slip through the holes.

He doesn't take any of his clothes off while watching her undress. The instant she opens her whimsical veil of blooms, he moves close and shoves the fabric down her shoulders so that it drops sadly on the floor. Then he flicks a knife out.

Shit… Shit what the fuck–

"No–Don't–!"

The blade is forced with a flat surface under the middle of her bra. He pulls the fabric away, turns the blade - it's a miracle she's not bleeding by the time he cuts through the center front like it's butter. Her breasts fall free, and the destroyed lingerie hangs cheaply on the side before it gets dragged away too. She looks at his work, her exposed tits and the crude, fat knife he swiftly returns to its sheath.

"That was my favorite br–ah…"

The man is terrifying, even when he sinks to his knees. He dives for her breasts, licks the undersides and sucks her nipples like he's famished. Her head rolls back, and she feels fainter still as he gropes her like she's his toy, chews a nipple until she shudders and cries in pain. Then he goes down, down, panting hot breaths on her skin as he goes, the hood grazing and tickling her skin.

His hands shake slightly as he tears down the last piece of covering fabric from between her legs. She can't even step out of the briefs before a blazing tongue is pushed to her clit, all but delicately.

Perhaps he's not a virgin, but he's not a veteran, either – still, it draws a filthy moan out of her.

She has to take support from his head to prevent herself from falling when the tongue simply forces its way between her legs. It curls to meet her folds, slick with her wet. She knows she's practically leaking at this point, and hears how he licks his lips.

"Of course the angel tastes like heaven too," he rasps in her mound, sounding rather… bitter. Almost annoyed.

She thinks it's only the beginning, but he suddenly rises like a Kraken from the sea, like a Godzilla about to destroy an entire city.

"Get on the bed. All fours."

She chokes the whimper that tries to escape her, then turns and crawls onto the bed as if they are running out of time. His urgency is hers now, and she presents herself to him, waiting for the man to thrust in without remorse, but it's his mouth she feels first.

"Uh–Oh my god…"

He licks her with a flat tongue, torturously slow while she's on display. They're long, profound sweeps, as if he wants to sample her rather than give her pleasure. Although he does give her an immense amount of it.

She falls on her elbows, face down on the bed, exposing more of herself to him in the process. Her pussy has been neglected for so long that the feel of his hot tongue on her is absolutely breathtaking, thigh-shaking. She pushes herself back a little, lets him taste his own medicine for once.

And of course it only makes him more unhinged.

"You're wet like a…" he laughs a short, dry laugh straight into her folds, and she finally whimpers at the sound. "You want it so bad?"

"Yes…?"

It's a sad little confession but more than enough for him. He freezes behind her, and something in the way the air shifts tells her he has risen and is now standing high above her as she's in this crudely vulnerable position.

"I've made you wet this whole time?"

She snivels, opens her eyes, closes them…

"Yes," she sobs in the bed, nearly topples, but he grabs her ass and keeps her in place.

"Ach du lieber Himmel…"

She pants and cries in the sheets, but the sobering silence lasts only for so long.

The sound of a belt being opened shoots her skin full of goosebumps. Only a few seconds later, the fat tip of his cock is swept across her folds: it probes for a second, then slides in.

"A-ah–"

"Scheiße… So tight…"

He hisses and goes all the way in – the journey is long and torturous as he stretches her wide. The thickness only grows at the base, his balls are already tight as they arrive to press against her.

And mercy is not at the top of his list as he realizes she has denied her need and therefore, his. He starts to sail inside her, back and forth, in and out, like it's his job, too. It's total torture. She might just pass out before this is over.

"You little tease…" He seizes control of her hips while using her as his own personal fleshlight. The noise of wet, slick fucking is deafening. The pace is upped soon, and he has to use strength to hold her in place while ramming her from standing while she tries to hold on for her dear life and hold onto the sheets.

"Not so fast, König," she whimpers into her pillow, but he won't listen. The pace is frantic, and his thrusts are deep; he fucks her with despair, with anguish-driven, starved thrusts born from greed.

Nothing has ever felt so good, nothing.

"Just friends, eh?"

She has a hard time deciphering whether he is happy or mad. His voice is pitchy, and she knows, she just knows that he sounds equally as unglued on his missions. Perhaps that's why people rarely talk to him.

"Don't–don't be angry…"

"No? Say that you want me," he commands somewhere behind her, desperation coating the air with pungent sweat and musky arousal. "Say it–say it–"

"I want you," she finally cries, and it feels like an absolution. An amnesty. Remission of sin.

There's panting and frantic sound of slaps of flesh against flesh behind her. The air all around is pure electricity. It makes her quiver and throb and squeeze: him, the sheets, anything and everything.

"I will bring you flowers every morning and fuck you every night. Ja?"

His length is the only thing she can focus on; all else dissolves into a hazy mist. The cock glides in her like he's oiling a gun part, and he could ask her to kill someone and she would only say–

"Yes, yes."

He slides in and out with less and less control, moans and grunts with every thrust now. She's already past the point of no return, even though the orgasm keeps hovering right beyond her reach. She only needs a few more minutes. Or maybe just one...

"König… Not...so–fast…"

He answers something in German, an annoyed string of words she has no clue what they mean. He's probably just swearing profoundly.

"Get...what you deserve..."

That's the only thing she can flesh out from the English that follows. He finally finds some mercy with a choked groan and tries to slow down a little. It's even worse when he does that. He pulls almost completely out, then sinks back in, agonizingly lazy, and that does it: the full length of his giant cock slipping inside her without effort makes her walls clench.

"Oh God…" Her back is arching, her toes are curling, a tight cry disappears somewhere in the pillow, and he won't stop with the – "Oh–fuck–!"

"Yeah," he cheers her on as she screams, cries in the sheets while his cock swims in her. His hands dig into her hips, and she barely has brains left to think it might leave bruises. The orgasm comes in waves, shakes, and he won't let go even when she's only a heap of throbbing, soaking flesh and rapture.

And it's not the end; quite the contrary. He continues to fuck her with abandon: balls slap against her with every jab; they must be covered in her juice at this point, making the sound of sloppy thrusts utterly obscene. She's able to stay in a face-down, ass-up position only because he's holding her there for his cock.

The grunts turn into a wide, thick groan as he approaches the edge as well. The pace slows down almost to a halt before he comes.

"Jetzt…kommt–" he groans through gritted teeth, voice all taut while he grinds through his release. It's a multitude of deep, oddly paced thrusts, a sad attempt to get everything he can, and she's still like a wet gulf sucking him in.

The last throes are sluggish, the madness starts to pass, and she feels like every bone has left her body. There is nothing solid left when the man slowly relents and settles somewhere deep inside her. She can hear how he pants with his mouth open, and it sounds painful, wet, almost drooly. Then he swallows with a breathless gulp, slips out, and lets her go.

She immediately falls forward - topples, crashes, crawls on the bed, tries to rearrange what's left.

Just friends...

Yep.

He crashes somewhere beside her, spent and out of breath. The front of his shirt is covered in sweat; the air is filled with the stale scent of musk and saline sweat and pure, mad sex. She can barely catch a glimpse of the slick, glistening length of him. It feels like a miracle that this thing has been inside her. It’s not that it’s monstrously thick: it’s simply long, curving a little to the side, lean and aggressive even when growing soft.

"You play with fire, Engel. Why did you make me wait so long?"

The masked killer beside her is panting but satisfied for now, and turns his head to look at her. She has to muster all her courage to look back.

"I'm…a bit shy."

"You're perfect," he declares while watching her in her sex daze and ruin. So, at least he's not angry. He finally looks… normal, even with that absurd hood still on, with that intoxicated, admiring stare in his eyes. The ice in his blues has turned into melting snow.

"I noticed you the minute I arrived here."

She can't prevent a hand from reaching out at that, from splaying fingers over his chest.

"I noticed you too," she whispers back before moving closer to snuggle him. His heart is finally thumping in his chest, right under her cheek – from the late exercise or their closeness, she can't tell. A heavy arm goes around her, pressing her further into the nook of his armpit.

"You remind me of one of my knives," he says while holding her close.

Oh good God…

"You are a butterfly knife girl."

"Oh?"

"Ja. Small and cute and a lot of fun. And I can't get enough of you."

So much for getting rid of the man after getting some d. God, what was wrong with her? Any other woman would have put up some boundaries, perhaps gotten a restraining order by now.

"Is it… a good knife?" Her voice comes out as an annoying squeal, and he pulls her closer, ever closer.

"I mainly use it for playing."

She wets her lips in an attempt to calm herself, to comfort herself. She’s just another plaything for a murderer whose hunger seems endless, even if he’s more civil now. Still, she fears this man is only after sex and violence. Her little dresses and petite lingerie won't stand a chance against such brutality.

"What knife are you…?"

"Classic Glock field knife. Tall and ugly."

Behind the thin veil of indifference, there's pride. It borders on arrogance. She catches a dash of bitterness, too: field knives don't pair well with butterflies, perhaps.

"König, you're not ugly," she breaks their odd cuddle to look at him. "This sounds like a trustworthy knife to me."

He looks back at her with an even warmer tinge to the glacier of his eyes.

"It is. You cannot hope for a more loyal blade."

Her gaze drops somewhere in the darkness of his shirt. He's pledging himself for the second time to her, and it causes another storm inside her head. There's warmth on her cheeks, too.

"You are cute when you blush," he observes with pleased tranquility.

Perhaps... Perhaps he doesn't want to hurt things he finds cute.

Perhaps he will take care of them, like he takes care of his knives.

It still takes some getting used to that he allows his hood to be lifted just enough to push his tongue inside her mouth or pussy but taking it off to show his face is too much. She is lying there with him in an odd post-coital dream, thoroughly naked while he's still fully dressed. But she doesn't feel cold, not when pressed against his blazing form like this.

"Did you nick my underwear?" She asks out of the blue, and the hand stroking her waist stops in the middle of an idle caress.

"I might have," he admits without a single ounce of remorse in his voice.

"König… That's not cool," she says, knowing he can hear the lack of scolding in her voice.

"You want them back?"

"I… Gosh. Yes, that would be nice."

What a pervert.

"Or... Nevermind. Keep them," she sighs, trying to brush off the fact that the underwear in question wasn't even clean. "Do you steal women's underwear often?"

"No. Just yours."

A laugh meant to convey her shock is far too laced with joy to make it clear that she finds his deeds preposterous. She simply fails at every turn in trying to express that she's a decent woman. He knows it now, probably saw it long ago; that she's the perfect cheval glass to his perversions.

The hand on her hips moves to caress her thigh, and the drowsy stare observes her with growing mischief.

"Ready to go again?"

"Whuh–Again…?"

He takes her hand and moves it right over his cock. It's lean and demanding, and pulses under her palm.

Tall and ugly, she thinks while her walls dare to throb with hunger.

"You make me hard," he says, almost as a whisper, "all the time."

Jesus… There was definitely no rulebook when it came to this guy.

She gets to watch from the bed how he gives her a show as the man finally decides it's time to take his clothes off. The shirt is the first one to go: it flies somewhere on the floor while he holds on to his hood. The sculpted muscle looks even bigger up close, and the plates are covered with thin hair. It runs thicker below the navel, and his thighs are pure power: they surround the sleek length of his cock like trunks of strength when he finally gets himself out of those pants.

The v-shape of his upper body is something she will never get over. Broad shoulders shrink and curve into narrow hips which in turn swell into powerful thighs, and while perhaps this guy wouldn't win the gold medal at a fitness competition – judged by the way he's lean and athletic but not low fat ripped – he certainly is the most beautiful man she has ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on. He's a demigod with his herculean strength, a titan who's too big for the world of mortals. A tormented Samson who will never be tamed with treachery or tricks.

The bed sags as he crawls back to her like the gentlest predator. Her legs open wide to receive him – a classic missionary feels like the most intimate choice after the faceless pounding she received earlier. He gathers her legs as he proceeds: forces them up, up, almost next to her arms until he's hovering over her exposed pussy.

She should've known that some boring missionary wouldn't satisfy this man at all.

Her eyes drop to her legs and what's between them: she's in no position to do much of anything, but as the tip of his cock – smooth, pristine velvet – slides across her wet folds once more, she rather helplessly tries to drive her hips up to meet him.

It's like she's drunk or in a dream. The scene is wild and filthy: she's plump and spread open, ready for the taking, thighs almost in her ears as he draws his hips back and finds her opening.

"Please be gentle," she begs with a whisper. He halts for a while to lock gazes with her rabbit stare.

"You are pretty when you beg, little one. But I would never hurt you."

She swallows, and her lips part – his gaze instantly falls on her mouth, then raises back to her eyes, gentle and painstakingly ardent. He's close, so terribly close – and not just physically. Her thighs quiver with anticipation as the thick velvet slides in.

Holy fuck–

She savors the spread, and he's gentle, like he promised. The groan that erupts from inside the hood above makes her walls ache. He's so merciful this time, and she wishes to lift the black veil that still keeps them apart, to see his face as he takes her, to see that scar on his jaw and how his mouth hangs open with hunger, just like hers…

His cock comes out all wet – she can hear it – before plunging right back in, and it makes her mewl.

"Oh God…" Her eyes shut tight from the sensation of being so filled. She's even more starved than she thought. It's scary, far scarier than the mass murderer above and inside her.

"You like that?"

He's breathing heavy, and she knows he's looking at her, the distorting face of pleasure, the way she's biting her lip. Tears try to force themselves out from the passionate, featherbrained proximity, from being so tightly knitted together, like a bunch of happy, overstimulated nerves.

"Look at me," he orders, and she opens her eyes like they're under his command and not hers.

"You like it like this?"

She nods with tears in her eyes, and he won't stop looking at her like she's his most prized possession.

"Gut. I will make you scream again."

The man's dreamy stare follows every twitch of a lip, every bat of an eyelash. She looks down briefly to escape that love – the sight of the long thickness disappearing in her while she is so crudely open for him makes her feel dizzy, even when she's lying down.

Some pillow princess…

"Sehr schön," he comments while watching her face which must look like that of a dumb, anesthetized doll. His cock has that effect, and now that he's hovering over her, staring into her soul while filling her, it makes everything even more painful because it's sweet. She's under lazy waves, and decent men seem the most boring thing on earth right now.

"You like my knives?"

"Ah–what…?"

"You stared when I played with my knife."

She knows he has caught her staring more than once and bites her lip again not to blurt out how she had stared when he had played with... other things as well.

"Mh, yeah… It was beautiful."

"You're beautiful."

The sudden waves of intimacy leave her fragile and weak. His stare is nothing short of a caress. She is open and helpless for him to pound to his heart's content, but he's gentle, bordering on loving...

"I can teach you how to play with them."

Jesus Christ, this dude is just crazy.

"Uh-huh," she agrees to it with her mouth hanging open from the overload of sensation. The lewd sound of his cum pushing out of her with every thrust is an obscene background music for this – or any – conversation.

"I have a collection."

Why the hell would he be talking about his knife collection in the middle of–

"I own at least fifty knives. I can show you all of them if you come to my room."

His gaze is at least as piercing as his cock, and she realizes how serious this is: knives are his life. He finds them beautiful too, he collects them and cares for them. They're a profession, but they're also the most important thing in his world.

Knives are his essence.

And he had likened her to a butterfly knife...

"S-sure."

The sound from where they are joined rises to a sluggish crescendo: drowsy, filthy claps of flesh on soaked flesh. He makes her sick and well at the same time: he drags her to hell and raises her to heaven. He's the remedy and the curse. He plays with her like he plays with his knives: ravenous, entranced, obsessed.

She tries to concentrate on too many things at once: that intoxicating voice, the memory of him playing with death, the cock plunging inside her over and over again, making warmth pool below. She imagines him killing people with his collection, picking his tool for the day. He's not the only lunatic here because even the very thought makes her tight around him.

"You are close?"

"König… Just–" she whispers on the cusp of a deeper, soul-rending orgasm.

"You like it when I talk about knives?"

She breathes laboriously and tries to hang onto the last bits of her sanity, but he knows her, knows her already. He weighs down on her until her thighs come to rest right next to her breasts. He's plowing her in a crude angle, indecent and deep. It's vulgar, and she loves it; loves the way he stares at her, all helpless under him.

"Please, I'm gonna–"

"I can show you my guns too."

Ohmygod–

"I'm gonn–ah–!"

She shatters, her walls clench; her pussy sucks him like he's hard candy.

“Sieh dir das an… You were made for me.”

"Nh– Please…"

Her head tosses on the pillow as if in a dream. She's fathomless, and going to pass out, the cock inside her makes her eyes roll back in her head until she sees white, the color of saints.

"Shy girl… Beg for it."

The voice that answers his command is not that of a shy girl; it's not hers at all. She hears it from underwater, and her reality consists solely of the man filling her, spreading her, transforming her from an angel into something deliciously wicked.

Please, just–

It's not her voice, and yet it does sound everything like her. It begs, mewls a plea after the other in a string of helpless little whimpers.

Don't stop, please pleaseplease…

"Besser als jedes Messer…" he rasps, more darkly now. "You drive me crazy, Engel."

A chant arises in her head: she has sinned and there's no turning back. He feels far better than any promise of heaven. She could never have guessed that being cast out would feel so good.

His release comes with a tight rip, he goes taut like in that shower, only ten times more desperate. The hiss under the hood turns into a pained, strained roar of a grunt. The first time was foreplay, a quick one: this is true release. She almost hopes she would faint as the whole body of the Austrian titan goes hard as a rock. She couldn't be more spent and used, and still, her pussy answers his godly essence by clenching around him, pulling him in like he's the best man there is.

The man of her dreams, the man from her worst nightmares...

His eyes are liquid, the waterline twitches. She sees behind the walls, a millisecond's worth of fragility before his head drops, and the muscles are released from the violent trance. Broad shoulders cage her in like she's suddenly deep inside a mountain pass. Spent and dead and gone, there's no hurry any longer: he is buried deep inside and throbs whatever leftovers he has to give her.

She's filled to the brim, crushed under his weight, banished: and it's only delicious, the feeling of her body disappearing somewhere in the depths of the bed he has plowed her into. She waits dutifully as the man gathers himself, even gets brave enough to touch him. The masked face is buried somewhere in her neck, and his stomach ripples with a few shivers as her hand runs down his spine.

"I want to do this every day," he declares softly while panting through the thick fabric of his self-made shield. She feels pure horror and thrill in her chest.

To do this every day… She will eventually break, like a toy that has been used too much. She's not made of steel like those butterfly knives used mainly for playing.

"König, this is crazy… We're crazy," she tries to put into words the unholy mess raging inside her. He snorts before releasing her from the absurd position. The weight of him leaves her empty as he pulls out, then drags his way beside her to gather her back into his arms.

"Don't be ashamed, little one," he coos through the mask. "You don't have to pretend with me."

Two rounds of intense sex have liberated him, the manic terror has turned into a strange compassion. The look in his eyes is magnanimous and tender, almost droopy. She feels weightless and timid, an angel once more.

"We belong together, you and I," he states with conviction that sends sweet dread inside her heart. "Don't worry. You will never be lonely again."

Her fate is sealed, and she fears a big, fat knife will cut her heartstrings too if she tries to escape his protection. Her jaw trembles at the prospect of him returning to her every day to fuck her bare after an adrenaline high on the field. She sees a future of tears and sweat and cum, a beast lulled into sleep amidst a withering sea of flowers and torn lace.

She tries to find the right words, hopes he will be swift and merciful in his execution.

König, please…

It's not the hood, it's–

"Everyone fears me," he sighs beside her. "I'm glad you don't."

#könig x reader #könig x female reader #könig x you #könig smut #könig fanfiction #könig #mw2 smut #mw2 fanfic #konig x reader #könig mw2 #call of duty #mw2 #mw2 x reader #yandere könig #könig imagine

[areislol]

patting their head out of nowhere

ft— blade, gepard, dan heng, jing yuan, yanqing, luocha, welt, sampo

warning — none, just fluff! might be ooc, established relationship, gn! reader, mentions of killing, platonic for yanqing, characters in order

a/n— first hsr post omgggggg!! as i stated in the warning the characters might be a bit ooc because it's my first time writing for them so.. it's short im sorry :(

wordcount. 2.2k

blade 刃

✧ he was just crouching down when you, out of the blue, start patting his head.

✧ blade turns his head up to look at you, mans just.. staring at you with such cold eyes. watching as you pat his head, he's... ugh *cue a deep and "annoyed" sigh*

✧ "what is it now, Y/N?" he asks in an annoyed tone, and honestly, he could've just stood up or removed your hand from his head but he didn't. weird, isn't it? blade lets you continue your nonsense as he crouches there, pressing his lips into a thin line as people pass by, giggling and pointing at you two. they were probably talking about how cute you two were.. a tall, scary guy getting head pats from someone who isn't to scary looking. how adorable! ♡

✧ he watches you intensely with piercing eyes, but you know that there is a small glint of softness seeping out of his mask.

✧ blade doesn't really like pda out in the public but, a head pat? pfft- that's not even big! why would he be affected by something to small? so he doesn't care. (but he really does, because ohmygosh! it's you!! you're giving him head pats, so so adorable!)

✧ he doesn't mind anything when it comes to you.. but if somebody who's not you starts patting his head, they'd be dead on the ground already.

✧ whenever someone (like jing yuan) notices this cute interaction and give him a smirk and mouth "aww" he rolls his eyes and stares into their soul, because when you're done he may or may not try to kill them later <;33

✧ (blade tells you to not do that in public once you're done, but when you're both together in private he asks, in a very embarrassed tone, if you could give him some head pats.)

✧ he grumbles and mutters under his breath, something along the lines of "i can't believe it." when you smile and pat his head, he's trying to act all tough and act like he isn't affected by your actions but it's really hard to when heat rushes to his cheeks and a pink hue suddenly appears on his cheeks.

✧ "what? i'm red? don't be so ridiculous ...."

gepard 傑帕德

✧ he blinks at you in confusion when you stand on your tippy toes and gesture for him to come down to your level, when he does, you start to pat his head. ah, there it is. the flustered and confused gepard.

✧ "ohmygoshyou'resoadorablehowcanonebesocute!!!" literally his thoughts right now as you pat his head and gush over how soft his hair is, gepard is quite literally on cloud nine.

✧ gepard sort of.. malfunctions? his cheeks are so red and hot he thinks he may faint from your head pats. he freezes when you first place your hand on his head but within a few seconds he immediately melts in your touches and smiles up at you.

✧ gepard loves receiving pda from you. whether it be something small or not. he loves knowing the fact that everybody knows that you two are together from these simple loving acts. he allows you to continue patting his head (as if he could stop you) and you can see how he's blushing like crazy.

✧ he looks like a cute puppy boy who loves getting head pats (because he does) and his adorable red face makes your heart melt. once you're done with patting his head, he immediately grabs onto your hand and for a second he pauses before he slowly puts your hand down, he blushes and looks at you in an embarrassed way

✧ "i.. is it alright if you continue this later? when we're alone..?"

dan heng 丹恆

✧ hghfffffff are you trying to kill this man? could this interaction not be any cuter!?!?!? <- dan heng freaking out internally as you pat his head. dan chuckles softly and sighs in delight.

✧ dan LOVES it when you give him affection, in the public or not. if you hold his hands, he will blush, if you give him a peck on the cheek, he will blush, if you link arms with him, he will blush, if you- (you get the idea..)

✧ "truly, Y/N, you're so cute.." dan sighs, closing his eyes as you continued to pat and run your fingers through his hair. if he was a cat right now, he would be purring loudly. like, really loud.

✧ he doesn't care if his friends see him like this, it's adorable, is it not? if anything he'd smile happily at whoever's passing by or at his friends and mouth "im in heaven-uh!!" while pointing at you patting his head.

✧ your head pats give him some soft of comfort, it's like you're praising him, by patting his head. and he would love nothing more than you patting his head after doing something successfully or winning a duel.

✧ when your hands leave his head he immediately grabs your hand and places it back on his head. "don't stop, i like it." and how could you refuse? (you can't, that's the thing)

✧ so you spent like 20 or more minutes just patting his head, your hand was getting slightly tired and when he noticed how sloppy your movements were getting he let out a soft sigh and stood up, smiling down at you.

✧ "thank you for spoiling me, love. lets go get some food yeah? how about your favourite?"

jing yuan 景元

✧ he raises his brows at you in confusion and amusement. he doesn't say anything though, only staring at you with those pretty eyes and watching you pat and rub his head.

✧ slowly, his lips curve into a smirk. "dear, what are you doing? giving me head pats.. interesting.." his tone is so teasing for what reason.. jing yuan is a general, so whatever he does affects his reputation and his image, but he really doesn't care when it comes to you.

✧ like when yanqing comes running to jing yuan, looking at you patting his master's head. he's obviously thinking "what.. on earth..?" and opens his mouth to speak but jing cuts him off. "what are you here for, yanqing? im currently busy with my partner."

✧ huhu, he's such a tease, asking you why you're giving him head pats, asking if you're doing this to get his attention or something.. you can only shut him up with a chaste kiss to his lips to which he blushes at.

✧ he sighs softly and closes his eyes. taking in the calm breeze and the nice head pats you're giving, jing yuan won't really voice that he's enjoying this, but maybe his soft hums that escape his lips will tell you.

✧ but in the end when the head pat session is over, he smiles tenderly at you and leans forward to give you a quick kiss on your cheek. "i enjoyed your little head pats.. maybe you should do it more often."

✧ he gives you head pats in return as well!! it's only fair, right? once you're done with your head pats it's his turn, you're surprised at first since you didn't expect him to do that but you don't complain. his eyes soften as he sees how you're enjoying this, a faint blush on his cheeks as he continued to pat your head. you're so adorable.. it's truly a blessing to have you in his life.

✧ "it's only fair, is it not? you give me head pats and i give you them as well.."

yanqing 彥卿

✧ he looks at you in confusion as you pat his head, was this some sort of reward for finally hitting 5,000 strikes on a practice dummy? either way, he lets you continue patting his head.

✧ yanqing thinks that it'll be over soon but.. nope. you continue to pat his head and he just continues to stare at you, giving you a nervous smile when your eyes meet his. "ah.. Y/N, why..?" he stops himself from talking when you stop moving your hands, did he upset you?

✧ but when he realizes that you only stopped because you thought that it was making him uncomfortable, he immediately reassures you that he wasn't uncomfortable, only... confused.

✧ when you explain that you just wanted to give him a head pat (maybe as a reward for doing such a good job) he nods his head and speaks again. "you.. can continue if you want. i dont mind. just tell me next time, okay?"

✧ he knows that he made the right choice when he sees your eyes light up as you start to pat his head again. yanqing is slightly embarrassed when he sees that jing yuan notices what you're doing to him

✧ yan smiles awkwardly at jing and he's sweating BALLS because now the general, his master!! is seeing him in a situation that.. could make him be seen as vulnerable.

✧ he eventually stops you and apologizes, saying that he has to go do something (he really does) and that he doesn't mind if you pat his head next time, probably somewhere jing yuan doesn't frequent.

luocha 羅剎

✧ ah.. he expected you to do something like that. he doesn't really mind it, if anything he loves it! he smiles tenderly as he relaxes in your touch, sighing softly. "mm, i do enjoy this, why head pats all of the sudden?"

✧ when you explain that you just felt like it, he lets out a hum and nods his head. luocha continues doing what he was doing before, it was quite hard to concentrate, yes, but he didn't have the heart to stop you so..

✧ luocha likes receiving pda from you, mostly in private though, but as of right now you two are alone so he doesn't care what you do to him. and if you don't mind, maybe he could return the head pats (and more) as well?

✧ he actually enjoys the head pats, and he actually voiced it as well!! and when you tease him about it you notice a faint pink hue appear on his cheeks.. so cute..

✧ if you give him head pats out in public though, he might stop you if you go on for too long. but don't worry, he will allow you to do it for however long you want to once you two are home.

✧ he's so soft for you honestly, so expect head pats back. when you're done you turn away but suddenly he starts to pat your head back and you're just like ??? you're still and everything

✧ luocha chuckles softly at your reaction and smiled tenderly at you. "how cute of you, i must give you something in return, no?"

welt 瓦爾特

✧ ".... what are you doing..?"

✧ he's so confused i swear, staring at you dumbfounded and slightly annoyed when you pat his head. he lets out a huff and goes back to his activity. he could care less about what you're doing to him and doesn't mind what others think.

✧ welt is unbothered by you, allowing you to continue your head patting and you're glad that he's not that affected by your actions.

✧ welt glares at anybody who's giggling and pointing at you two. like, mind your own business.

✧ he looks like a grumpy dad and sighs sadly. "why... are you.. nevermind."

✧ you might think that he isn't enjoying it and he has to put up with you everyday, which, he does. but he is enjoying it. anything you do to him he absolutely loves and cherishes. you think he'll forget about the head pats? absolutely not, once you two go home he's asking you to massage and run your fingers through his hair after showering.

✧ "dearest, could i trouble you to do what you did to me earlier today, right now? i.. enjoyed it.."

sampo 桑博

✧ smiles like a mad man!! you're just so adorable.. how could he not?? sampo's smiling like crazy when u give him head pats <;33

✧ "oh? what's my little dove doing?" he says in a teasing tone (?? he likes teasing u hhh)

✧ his heart is beating so fast you can probably hear it if you were to lean in closer to his chest. not only that but he's B.L.U.S.H.I.N.G. face red like a tomato as you run your fingers through his hair.

✧ sampo will NEVER stop you from giving him affection (especially kisses and linking hands with you) so when you give him head pats he allows you to instead of stopping you.. and you're doing this in public too.. not that anything's wrong with that!!

✧ he pulls you in closer by your waist!! smirking as he hears you yelp from surprise. "what~ did that surprise you?"

✧ sampo could care less about the stares he gets from people/his friends, why should he be? everybody in the world should know about your relationship!

✧ please don't stop the head pats :(( he's literally begging you to not stop because its just so comforting to him ♡ if you do stop he won't pressure you to continue but he'll probably pout for a good 20 minutes before he finally smiles again when you kiss his cheek.

✧ he loves the head pats. so he hopes that you will continue giving him head pats in the future <;33

note: if you would like to be added to the honkai star rail taglist pls just ask me!! dont be shy &lt;3

taglist 🏷️ : none so far

liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!

another note: first hsr post!!! also i got my glasses today and uhm i kinda hate it but yk what, my eyesight is so much better so...

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #blade x reader #dan heng x reader #jing yuan x reader #yanqing x reader #luocha x reader #welt x reader #sampo x reader #—✧ · . fandom: honkai star rail

[favoniuscodex]

guardian angel [ genshin scenarios ]

summary: overprotectiveness isn't the cutest, but it's endearing to know that your boyfriend has your best interests in mind (aka instances where the boys are (healthily) protective of you).

characters: alhaitham, childe, cyno, diluc, xiao w/ a gn!reader

warnings: implied catcalling/harassment (alhaitham), intimidation (childe), exhaustion (cyno), minor injuries (diluc), threat of hilichurl attack (xiao). no angst endings.

word count: 3.4k

a/n: this one won the poll, so it's first up! hope u enjoy! thanks to @/spiriteddreams reading over alhaitham's part for me beforehand!!!

-- alhaitham --

Alhaitham enjoys sticking to routines. Thus, when you disrupt his routine of meeting him after work in order to walk home together, he is annoyed, but his brain is quick to rationalize it. They are probably just busy with work or they left work early, Alhaitham justifies. However, there is a less rational part of him that gnaws at his sanity, telling him that something is wrong.

He takes his usual path home, making it only a short distance before he feels arms wrap around his waist. Alhaitham stiffens in response to the sudden touch. But, as he looks down and realizes its just you, mouthing words that he can't hear due to the music playing through his headphones, Alhaitham pauses his music. He pushes one of his earpieces off his ear in order to hear you properly and parts his lips to speak, but an unfamiliar voice cuts through your reunion with Alhaitham.

"Look, he didn't even respond to your greeting," a man proclaims far too haughtily and assuming for Alhaitham's liking. "That's not your boyfriend. But it's okay, sweetheart, I can make sure you're not singl-"

Alhaitham doesn't have time for this nonsense. Don't get him wrong -- he has all the time in the world for you and anything you're excited about, but your distressed expression at the man's words has Alhaitham protectively wrapping an arm around you before turning around to face the mystery man obviously provoking you.

"Are you calling my partner a liar?" Alhaitham immediately challenges, narrowed eyes sharpening the intensity of his multicolored glare. Your harasser blinks a few times, slowly coming to a fearful recognition of who Alhaitham is.

"My apologies, Acting Grand Sag-" the man begins.

"Don't apologize to me. Apologize to them."

"I am sorry!" the man cries, but Alhaitham can't quite be bothered to hear the man grovel for forgiveness. Alhaitham looks down at you, deciding to let you make the call.

"Would you prefer for me to handle this or would you rather just go home?" Alhaitham asks you softly, looking at you over his shoulder. "I am content with either option."

"Um," you begin, peering around Alhaitham to glance at the man once more, who seems to be trying not to collapse in fear. "Just... Let's just go home. He won't mess with me again, and I'm hungry."

An affectionate, soft smile appears on Alhaitham's face at your words as he realizes you're just as attached to your little routines with him as he is. Thus, with all the venom he can muster in his expression, he turns back to the nervous man.

"If I see you anywhere around here again, I will ensure that you will be dealt with swiftly," Alhaitham promises, and the man nods before scampering off like a coward. As soon as the man is out of sight, Alhaitham sighs and grabs your hand. The action sends your heart aflutter, due to Alhaitham not frequently initiating public displays of affection.

"Are you alright?" He asks, using a gentle voice you don't hear all too often from him. You nod, and he smiles softly once more before giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "Very well then. If anyone else tries to make trouble for you, let me know and I'll handle it."

"Wow," you breathe teasingly. "Alhaitham willingly taking on extra work?"

Alhaitham sighs, but you notice the way a smirk threatens to flash across his features at your playful words.

"I'd work forever if it meant you'd be happy," Alhaitham says, and you playfully place your free hand over your heart, pretending to swoon.

"I think that's the most romantic thing you've ever said," you say with a giggle, relishing in the way Alhaitham rolls his eyes at your words.

"Let's go home. I have biryani planned for dinner."

"Biryani? I changed my mind -- that's the most romantic thing you've ever said."

You get a rare chuckle out of Alhaitham as he guides you home, walking close to you and protectively holding onto your hand tightly in case any more trouble comes along for the two of you.

-- childe --

"Pardon me for interrupting," a silky voice croons from behind where you and Childe stand. "I was hoping to have a word with our dearest Tartaglia."

Childe's grip on your hand tightens as his playful expression turns steely at the sound of the voice. He gives you a cautious glare, before plastering the fakest smile you've ever seen on his face.

"Give me a moment, babe," he murmurs lowly to you, practically speaking through gritted teeth, before turning to face a man you've never seen before. Of course, arriving at Zapolyarny Palace on the Tsaritsa's request practically demanded that you would meet new people, but few were able to evoke such a strong reaction from Childe like this man was.

The stranger adjusts his silver-framed glasses and smiles sweetly at you.

"Apologies for my rudeness, I do not believe we have met," he says, eerily reminding you of a viper waiting to strike. "I am Pantalone, ninth of the Fatui Harbingers. And you are..?"

You look over at Childe, who glances at you out of the side of his eye. You respond curtly, giving the man just your first name, and he laughs.

"I understand your hesitation to divulge answers, but your relationship with Tartaglia is quite evident already. Any other information I wish to find out about you I can do so with ea-"

"Spit it out, Pantalone. What do you want?" Childe asks, and you wonder if your boyfriend has lost his mind at how rudely he is speaking to his superior. However, Pantalone seems to pay it no mind, finding the conversation all the more amusing.

"My my, you're much more friendly Pulcinella and Capitano than you are with me. How tragic. I simply wished to discuss finances with you. Is that such a crime?"

Tartaglia blinks at him, taking a slight step forward and sheltering part of your frame behind him.

"We can discuss it at the Fatui meeting tomorrow. Considering you're a higher rank than me, you shouldn't require my input," Childe says, and Pantalone laughs once more. It is a dry type of laugh, as if he's never really found anything funny in his life. A conniving smile spreads across Pantalone's face once more.

"I see that you are on the defensive because of the company you currently keep. No worries. We can discuss our matters tomorrow," Pantalone says. He turns around and takes a few steps, before looking over his shoulder at the two of you. Tartaglia's hand moves from holding your own to wrapping protectively around your waist. Your lover straightens his posture, ready for a challenge, but Pantalone simply smiles eerily once more.

"I would be careful about who you show affection with in the Palace," Pantalone warns.

This time, it is your lover's turn to grin widely at his opponent across the hall.

"That's alright. I can fight," Tartaglia promises with an edge to his voice that you rarely hear. Pantalone's expression warps indecipherably at Childe's words. The ninth Harbinger shakes his head before turning and walking away, leaving you and Childe alone in the hall once more.

With his arm still on your waist, Childe leans over and presses a quick kiss to your forehead and smiles down at you.

"If any other Harbingers try to intimidate you, let me know and I'll handle it."

You stare at your lover, narrowing your eyes. "How would you handle it?"

Childe laughs softly. "I wouldn't want to ruin your stellar image of me, would I? Now, c'mon, let's go. This place is eerie."

-- cyno --

"You need to rest."

Your boyfriend's figure looms over your own tired one, multiplying the amount of relieving shade that covers your body. Despite Cyno's order for rest, your pride gets the best of you as you dismissively swat a hand through the air.

"I'm fine," you insist.

"You can barely walk. When was the last time you were even in the desert?"

"Is this a setup for a punchline?" You ask. Your voice almost sounds like a croak, straining from a lack of water. Cyno is quick to respond, pulling his own canteen off his belt and handing it over to you.

"No. It's me caring about you, that's what it is," Cyno crouches down to meet you at eye level. "Drink."

"This is your water. You need it. I'm not drinking it," you say stubbornly and Cyno sighs before pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

"I know the desert well enough to know how to ration my water. I also know it well enough to tell you when to rest and when to drink. Go ahead. I'll be fine."

You narrow your eyes at him, not moving the canteen to your lips. Cyno sighs before plopping down in the shade-cooled sand next to you. In the distance, you watch waves of heat warp the sand dunes on the horizon, and you wonder if you're in over your head. You'll never admit that though. The last thing you wanted was to slow down Cyno on your trip to the desert, but here you are, struggling to bear the heat.

Cyno sits with you in silence for a moment, before splitting the quiet with another question.

"People often say my humor is dry," Cyno says plainly. "But I think it's only dry when it's in the desert."

A small giggle escapes your lips at the awful pun, and Cyno smiles slightly. Cyno looks over at you. He pointedly looks at the canteen in your hands before flickering his piercing gaze up to you. Despite his best attempt, Cyno can't bring himself to stare at you with the same intimidating gaze he uses for criminals. When he clears his throat to speak once more, you interrupt him by lifting the water to your lips, taking a few sips before handing it back to him.

"I can carry you until we reach an oasis. There should be one not too far away, if we're lucky," Cyno offers, and you giggle at his offer. At your laughter, Cyno raises an eyebrow questioningly. You lean forward, hugging your knees close to your chest and smiling at him.

"What's so funny?" Cyno says, and you beam at him.

"Nothing. You're just cute when you're worried about me."

Cyno's eyes widen, before he decides to study the sand instead of your eyes. You watch as his fingers twitch slightly in the sand as he thinks of the words to say.

"'Cute' isn't exactly how most people describe me," Cyno mutters. In your heat-addled haze, you only grin wider at him before closing his canteen and handing it back to him, drawing his attention once more.

"Well, you're cute to me, even if others can't see it," you say. Despite the warmth of your body, you still reach out to grab his hand, lacing your fingers through his.

"Can we rest for a bit here?" You ask sheepishly. "I'm a bit worried I won't be able to walk far if we get up now."

Cyno nods at your words. "Of course. The last thing I want is to overwork yourself. It's okay if we work at different paces - I'll wait for you as long as you need."

Your heart melts at his honest words, so you scoot over to him before laying down in the sand, holding out your arm for him to rest with you. However, he shakes his head, electing to hold your hand instead.

"I'll watch over you while you sleep. Right now, it's my duty to keep you safe."

-- diluc --

"It's just a scratch, 'Luc," you say to the broad-shouldered man currently fretting over your injuries. "I'll be fine, I just need a bandage."

Diluc glares at you with as much vitriol as he can muster towards you -- which isn't much. You're unsure if this type of glare from him would even scare one of the bunnies on the Dawn Winery grasses outside. It certainly isn't the same glare he uses for handling criminals and members of the Abyss. Despite Diluc's efforts to seem intimidating, he's never been able to be mean or intimidating towards you. Thus, you giggle at his expression and his brows furrow.

"This is serious, love. You can't keep going out there and getting injured," Diluc grumbles. "Come on, sit on the bathroom counter."

"One of the maids could've helped me, y'know," you say teasingly before hopping up and resting on the cool marble basin, watching as Diluc's cheeks flush with a faint shade of red. "But you're way cuter."

"Stop trying to distract me," Diluc mutters, voice plagued by his easily flustered state.

"Is it working?" You ask, and your lover falls silent. The color of his cheeks synchronizes with his hair as he furrows his brow, focusing on cleaning up the scraped skin on your arm with a clean cloth. You smile softly at him as he works, unaware of your affectionate gaze towards him.

"How did this happen?" Diluc asks after a few moments of silence. His voice warbles slightly, and it takes everything in you not to pull him in for a hug -- it would only upset your injury, which would upset Diluc further in turn. Guilt washes over you at the sadness in his voice, and you use your uninjured arm to lean forward and ruffle his hair affectionately.

"I just tripped on a branch while out trying to collect some berries. Don't worry, it wasn't anything bad, sweetheart. I promise."

Diluc swallows heavily before nodding. Both of you know why seeing you injured affects him so much, but neither of you dare speak of the causation. Instead, you move your free hand from his hair to his cheek, heart melting at the way his face instinctively leans into it. Diluc reaches behind you to pick up the roll of bandages that one of the maids provided.

"Tell me if this hurts, alright? It should be taut, but it should not hurt," Diluc murmurs, voice deep as he begins to wrap the bandages starting at your wrist. You hum in acknowledgement, but Diluc is far too gentle to cause you any pain. He wraps the bandage up perfectly, staring at his handiwork with narrowed eyes before looking up at you.

"It's perfect," you applaud him and, for the first time since you've shown up injured, Diluc smiles softly at you. "You did wonderful. I feel better already."

"If it causes you any issues, please let me know." He says hurriedly, and you sigh, causing him to look at confusion. You smile wearily at him.

"C'mere," you urge, moving your hand from his cheek towards his tie. Loosely, you grip the knot of the fabric, urging his face towards yours. Your lips meet Diluc's in a loving kiss. You can tell he's caught off guard by it as you hear the hasty slap of his hand against the marble counter behind you as he regains his balance, leaning further into the kiss. Diluc's other hand reaches forward to curl around your cheek and jaw, calloused fingertips delicately gliding against your skin like a restorationist carefully brushing a piece of fine art.

Diluc is a man of quiet intensity, preferring to show his devotion to you through actions rather than words. As he kisses you in this moment, the reverent movement of his lips tells you over and over how much he adores you. The worried tension eases out of his shoulders as he melts into you, parting only when the two of you need to catch your breath. You use this opportunity to press your forehead to Diluc's, staring at him in the eyes.

"'Luc, I'm not going anywhere." You reach up and cradle his hand closer to your face. "I promise."

Diluc's thumb brushes gently back and forth on your cheekbone as he mulls over words to say.

"I know," he sighs, before sounding more firm in his words. "I know. I trust you. I love you."

-- xiao --

You've never been happier to have your boyfriend accompany you on an expedition. Adventurer's Guild commissions were at an all-time high, but danger was also at an unprecedented level. For reasons still unknown to the Guild, Treasurer Hoarder activity was at an unusual high, which made transporting goods and completing commissions that much more difficult.

Plus, it wasn't that often that you got to see Xiao. Warmer months are approaching, which means monster activity will increase, along with the need for commissions. Sure, the two of you would still meet at Wangshu Inn, but your relationship with the adeptus is still rather unconventional. After all, you knew from the start that Xiao wasn't the type of guy who would take you to fancy dinners at Xinyue Kiosk.

Rather, the two of you were perfectly content with eating dinner together on the Wangshu Inn balcony whenever the weather was nice and your schedules coincided. 'Dates' were a foreign concept to Xiao, and you didn't want to urge him out of his comfort zone by surrounding him with other humans. Thus, you found enjoyment in the fact that Xiao was willing to help you with this commission -- it was a more unique date for the two of you.

Yet, as the two of you head north to Qingce Village on a trodden dirt path, Xiao is quick to wrap his arms around you, pinning your hands to your sides and clutching you close.

"Xi-" you begin, but you're cut off by the stomach-whirling sensation of teleporting away. The two of you touch the ground almost instantaneously, but you're left reeling and dazed, not used to the feeling of teleportation. The two of you are now stationed in a cave, and you have no clue how far you've gone.

"What? Aren't you not supposed to teleport me like that?" You breathe, mind still spinning with confusion and disorientation, but Xiao silences you with a finger to his lips. With a single swipe of his hand, his mask reappears on his face, and he's quick to summon his spear.

"Wait here."

You watch, dumbfounded, as your lover teleports away, leaving you alone. Xiao wasn't the type to leave you stranded without good reason, so you sigh and make yourself comfortable on the stone ground of the cave, waiting for him to return.

Minutes later, the yaksha returns. The tip of his spear is stained with something, but you figure it's probably better if you don't pay too much attention to that.

"You are bad at watching the surroundings," Xiao says, looking down at you before wiping his mask away. You look up at him, blinking slowly.

"Wow, thanks," you say sardonically, and Xiao tilts his head, not fully used to human sarcasm.

"There were hilichurls following us," Xiao says, sitting down besides you on the cave floor. "They unsheathed an arrow, so I teleported us away."

"Oh," you say as a devious thought pops into your mind. "Thanks, sweetheart."

At the usage of a pet name, Xiao's face turns scarlet and he looks away from you, flustered. Deciding to make it even worse, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, leaning into him and resting your head on his shoulder.

"What would I ever do without my dashing protector to save me? How may I ever repay my loyal knight?" You giggle while Xiao's eyes widen at your playfully romantic words. "You swept me and my heart off my feet with your heroic ac-"

"Enough." Xiao says, but it comes out less as a firm demand and rather as a sheepish choke of words. "Please."

You giggle once more, memorizing the way the red on his face complements the green in his hair, before leaning in to place a quick kiss on his cheek.

"Thanks for looking out for me, Xiao," you say, teasing tone leaving your voice. Xiao raises his hand to rest on one of the arms you have wrapped around his shoulder, and you feel your heart swell at the rare initiation of physical contact.

"I will always be there when you need me," Xiao vows, and you realize just how far your relationship with the adeptus has come. While he still blushes at your words, he no longer admonishes you for playful romantics and flirty remarks. Instead, he embarrassedly embraces them, while holding you close.

"Good thing I always need you then, huh?" you murmur softly, as if whispering a secret amidst a crowd. The two of you sit alone in the cave for a while longer, and you realize you wouldn't mind spending forever like this, as long as Xiao was by your side, with his eyes fluttered closed in contentment.

#genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #alhaitham x reader #xiao x reader #cyno x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin x reader #diluc fluff #alhaitham fluff #xiao fluff #cyno fluff #childe fluff #tartaglia fluff #axia.writing #writing.alhaitham #writing.diluc #writing.childe #writing.cyno #writing.xiao

[kkvqwrites]

Bedside Manner

Reader goes into labor while Simon's away and calls the first person she can think of. The task force (and some other friends in high places) rally around the couple on the most important day of their lives.

Word Count: 2,587

Characters (in order of appearance): fem!Reader (no use of y/n), Capt. John Price, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Kate Laswell

CW: childbirth, hospital setting, medical procedures

A/N: Am I a Ghost girlie? Absolutely. Am I also a sucker for the found family trope? Til I die. This idea wouldn't leave me alone and I'm so glad I stuck with it. I love the way this came out and hope you like it!

"Dear? Everything okay?"

The captain's voice on the other end of the line sounded worried. Both he and Simon had drilled it into you to never hesitate to call Price if you needed anything while your husband was away, but you couldn't help feeling a bit guilty.

"Um, I think so," you began, willing your voice to stay level and upbeat. "I think I just - oof.." Another contraction hit, stealing the air from your lungs. They were coming more consistently now, and hard enough to stop you in your tracks.

This could not be happening.

"What's wrong? Are you alright? Are you hurt?" You could hear movement in the background, him gathering his things to be out the door and on his way to you.

"I'm fine, John. I just didn't know who else to call. I think the baby might be coming?" The words came out pinched as you worked through the tail end of the contraction. The captain swore loudly.

"Stay put, love. I'm on the way - everything will be alright. Want me to stay on the phone with you?"

"No, no, that's fine. Stay safe and I'll see you when you get here." You hung up before he could argue and fuss like a mother hen.

______________________________________________________________

The knock at the door startled you. You looked at the clock - surely that couldn't be John already. The man lived across town. Not trusting yourself to make it to the door, you called out.

"It's open!"

Turns out it wasn't Price, but Gaz, who stepped into your living room and began taking in the scene. It was a sight to be sure: you, doubled over sitting on your yoga ball, rocking back and forth to try to alleviate some of the pressure in your hips, towel around your neck because you were sweating like a pig, ambient white noise filtering through the bluetooth speaker to keep you calm. For all his usual swagger and poise, Gaz looked a bit frightened.

"Kyle, did John call you? I'm so sorry - I'm sure you were busy-"

"Not at all, I rushed over as soon as I got word." The sergeant came to your side and knelt until he was eye level. "The captain's on his way but I was closer. We didn't want you to be alone any longer than necessary."

"You and your task force are worse than a quilting circle." The jab came with a joking smile, but the smile was cut short by the stab of another contraction. At the sight of your face screwing up in pain, Kyle's eyes got big.

"Can I do something? Do you need anything?" He wrung his hands as he fussed, seemingly unsure whether to touch you or whether you'd bite him if he tried. Admittedly, you weren't too sure yourself.

"Need you to reset - the timer." The words came out through clenched teeth as your muscles tensed and screamed. "Contractions - need to time them."

"The timer - right." He sprung into action, undoubtedly happy to have a defined task to accomplish. As he was fiddling with the device, Price stormed through the door, his demeanor all-business.

"Gaz? What's the situation?" The sergeant hopped to attention as if he was at roll call.

"Got here not long ago myself, Cap. Just reset the timer for contractions."

"Where are we at?"

"Thirteen minutes, sir."

The captain turned to you, assessing you from top to bottom. His expression and his voice softened considerably as he spoke.

"Ready to get to the hospital, love?"

"Can't - they told me to wait until they're five minutes apart." The man looked bewildered.

"And just let you sit here and suffer? Not on my watch. Gaz, grab my keys - "

"John," you interrupted. "I already called. They won't admit me yet. We just need to wait it out."

"Nonsense, love. You wait til I get someone's ear over there. Five minutes my arse." He moved to help you stand, but stopped in his tracks as he took in your face, your lip trembling. "Is there something else?" As if on cue, a fat tear rolled down your cheek, the first of its kind since the pains began.

"This isn't supposed to be happening," you squeaked out. "Not for a few more weeks. Simon's supposed to be here."

The men shared a glance, looking stricken. Price leaned down next to you, a broad hand gently squeezing your shoulder. His voice was soft when he spoke, a renewed slowness replacing his prior rushed pace.

"I know, love. I know it's not ideal, and I know you're scared. I know Simon would give anything to be here, that he'd split heaven and earth to be with you right now. But I also know he'd want you and your little one taken care of, yeah? He wouldn't want you to wait."

You nodded, despite more tears threatening. "Doesn't change the fact they won't admit me yet."

The captain's mouth quirked defiantly. "You let me worry about that. Gaz, help her up. I'll drive."

______________________________________________________________

Simon was tired down to his bones, feeling like a wrung out rag after the most recent mission. Despite that, the man was a ball of energy as he hopped off the plane, desperate to get back to you.

"Someone's antsy," Soap drawled, taking a more leisurely pace. He slid his sunglasses on as Simon switched on his cell phone anxiously. "Got somewhere to be, LT?"

"'Matter of fact I do - home." Simon impatiently hiked his duffel bag higher on his shoulder. "See my wife, eat a real meal. Finally build that godforsaken changing table. Who knew a baby needs so much furniture?"

Soap barked a laugh, but Simon tuned him out as he put his phone to his ear. He'd gotten a voicemail from you, and everything else ceased to matter.

"Hey babe, it's me. I'm not sure when you'll get this, and I hate to worry you. I'm sure it's fine. It's just... I've been feeling some contractions-"

Simon didn't hear the rest, nearly dropping his phone as he broke into a run.

______________________________________________________________

True to his word, Price argued with the hospital staff until you were taken up to a room. You were sure he must have pulled rank, threatened to call people, but he refused to let you worry about it.

The ride had been smooth, despite John driving like a bat out of hell. Gaz stayed in the back seat with you, clinging to your hand and fussing. Later, you'd think it was funny how he seemed to need more encouragement and support than he offered, but at that moment very little was funny.

You had been able to stay in denial for an admirably long time. The past few days, you were able to tell yourself it was just Braxton-Hicks contractions, not the real thing. That even when it became evident the real thing was starting, that it wouldn't progress quickly. That even though it was progressing, that Simon would walk in the door just at the right moment and sweep you into the car and off to the hospital and all would be well. Even when your gut told you to pick up the phone and call the captain, you had managed to make yourself believe that you were wrong, that it was a false alarm, that you still had more time.

Now, here you were, connected to monitors and being poked and prodded by nurses. Medical history, allergies, birth plan, you felt like you were in interrogation rather than a patient receiving care. And if it wasn't the nurses it was the two men standing off to the side, one wringing his hands in worry and one watching the nurses like a hawk and barking questions. The contractions were closer to eight minutes apart now, progressing quickly. Now the situation was very real, and as thankful as you were from the support from Price and Gaz, your heart threatened to shatter at the absence of the one person who mattered most.

______________________________________________________________

"Bloody fuckin' hell, no one will answer their phone!" Ghost barked, ready to throw his out the window. He'd had radio silence other than a second voicemail, this one from the Captain:

"Simon, Price here. Just got word from the missus that the baby's on the way. I'm headed there now. I don't want you to worry about a thing, I won't leave her side. I'll update you as I'm able."

"She knew to call the captain; he's probably with her now," Soap offered from the driver's seat. He'd practically had to arm wrestle Simon for the keys, but ended up convincing him that he'd be able to call for updates if he wasn't worried about driving. Silently, he thanked the saints Simon had agreed; who knows what carnage he'd unleash on the roads as worked up as he was.

"He better be, or I'll - not now, Laswell!" Simon rejected the third call from the station chief since landing and tried Price again. He was sure he'd hear about it for skipping debrief and jumping in the car, but right now he couldn't bring himself to give a shit. When Price's phone again went to voicemail, he was about to go nuclear when the car's Bluetooth lit up with Laswell's number.

"Shite; let me answer it LT." Soap pushed the button. "Laswell, it's Soap. Here with Ghost."

"I know," she said impatiently, her voice filling the space. "I've been trying to call all afternoon. I know what's happening and I'm here to help."

"What? How do you know?"

"Price called me as soon as he got word, asked me to find you. Anyway, you're wasting time heading in that direction; there's a lane closure ahead and you're about to be neck deep in traffic. I've mapped an alternate route for you. Take the next left."

The two men looked at each other in confusion before both starting to speak at the same time.

"Left? That takes us the wrong way-" "How do you know where we're at?"

"Boys! Boys, listen," she continued, exasperated. "Don't worry about how I know, just do as I say. We're gonna get you there as fast as possible. Now turn left!"

Soap cut the car to the left, ignoring the indignant honks of other drivers as he began to cut through the city under Laswell's watchful eye.

______________________________________________________________

"The doctor says you'll be ready to start pushing soon. How are you feeling?" The nurse was genuinely trying to be nice, so you bit back on your retort of how the fuck does it look like I'm feeling? My insides are exploding! and instead chose a weak smile and a head nod.

Once the nurse whisked away, Price was back at your side. You could tell by his expression he wanted to give you a pep talk like you were one of his soldiers about to head into battle, but he was searching for the right thing to say. You broke the silence first.

"I'm scared." Your voice sounded small, the words escaping almost of their own volition. The captain took your hand, blessedly avoiding sugarcoating the situation.

"I know. But you're doing great - a real trooper. Even with the needle in the back! Simon's gonna be so proud of you, love. And Gaz and I are gonna be right here. Right Gaz?"

"Right, Cap." The sergeant slid back into the room, cup of ice in hand. While the captain had taken point and begun advocating for you with the hospital staff and asking a million questions, Gaz had been dutifully making sure you were comfortable. Anything from getting you an extra pillow for your back, to helping you tie your hair back, to getting you ice chips since you couldn't have food or drink during labor, he was on it. If either man was uneasy about what was about to happen, they dutifully kept it under wraps and maintained their game faces.

One by one, the care team took up positions around you to get started. Price and Gaz got next to you, each taking one of your hands, ready to offer what support they could. You shamed yourself, one last time, for being ungrateful for their presence. A lot of people give birth with less, you tried to tell yourself. He’d be here if he could. 

 The doctor walked in, donning gloves and getting a quick status update from one of the nurses before meeting your eyes. “Evening, ma’am. We’re going to-” 

Her words were cut off by a commotion in the hall, a door slamming and what sounded like some raised voices. Everyone in the room exchanged confused glances, and Price motioned for Gaz to go investigate. He poked his head out into the hall for only a moment before returning with a big grin.

“You’re not gonna believe who’s here."

Then your husband was in the doorway, and then he was at your side, and suddenly those honey brown eyes drowned out every ounce of pain and fear you’d been holding onto, and that warm, calloused hand took yours, and you were ready.

______________________________________________________________

You would have thought it would be difficult to fall asleep under fluorescent lights, with monitors beeping and staff bustling around. But you had never known tiredness like this, and wanted to take the nurse’s advice and rest while the pain meds were still working their magic. The delivery had been uneventful once the show was on the road, and Simon never left your side, his steady presence grounding and his voice in your ear keeping you calm. Then there she was, a baby girl, the most precious tiny thing you’d ever laid eyes on. You’d stared at her and cried for hours, stroking her tiny hand and welcoming her to the world until you could barely keep your eyes open. And so, with a squeeze of your hand and a kiss on your forehead from Simon, you found yourself drifting off. You were aware, as you floated off, of his slow pacing back and forth with your newborn daughter in his arms, of his whispers to her that were too low for you to hear. Of the guys popping in, as unobtrusively as possible lest the lieutenant tear them limb from limb for disturbing you and the baby, bringing him food and coffee and admiring the bundle of joy.

“Doesn’t look a thing like you, Simon,” said Soap.

“Thank God for that,” he replied.

“You should have seen it, Simon really - needle this long, right in the spine!” Price remarked, not for the first time. “She didn’t even flinch.”

“I’m just glad you made it for the gross stuff,” mumbled Gaz.

“Kyle, you’re in the military. You’ve seen arms and legs blown off.”

“Completely different, Johnny. Not the same at all.”

On and on they bantered, brothers in arms stepping into their role as uncles for your baby girl with delight. One of the last things you heard was Simon, his voice thick with emotion.

“Thank you, all of you, for being here. For today.”

“Oh come off it Simon,” replied the Captain. “These girls mean something to you, so they mean something to us. That’s what a family is. Now quit hogging her and let Uncle John have a turn.”

You wouldn’t remember this conversation when you woke up, wouldn’t be able to articulate where it came from, but you’d carry with you the bone-deep feeling of connection with this little makeshift family forever.

#cod ghost #cod ghost fanfic #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley fanfic #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #mwii ghost #task force 141 #john price #soap mactavish #gaz garrick #kate laswell #mwii fanfic

[fictoculus]

Hiiiiii! Can i request some genshin guys reacting to reader refering to them as "my husband" they're not married yet/just dating? As for characters, I'd prefer Tighnari, Albedo, and Cyno (I definitely have a type lol) please 🙏

౨ৎ "my husband..."

send a request!┊masterlist┊taglist applications

FEAT… alhaitham, tighnari, albedo

SYNOPSIS... calling your boyfriend your husband just to get a rise out of him (or you)

A/N... hey anon! thanks for the requesttt i love getting them literally puts a smile on my face ^^ so sorry for taking so long tho, nd also sorry for not writing anything for cyno i js had zero ideas for him, have alhaithtam instead!! anywayyy i was actually planning on writing something like this so great timing!!! hope you enjoyyy ♡

✧ alhaitham.

it's been a long, tiring day, so you and alhaitham decide it's the perfect chance to unwind and finally visit the small café you often pass on your way home.

it's quaint but welcoming, with warm white fairy lights and oak wood accents to highlight the faded walls and exposed brick. however, due to it's size, there is quite a long queue. usually you'd be a little on edge, but with the quiet chatter and soft music, you're able to relax.

just as you begin to scan the menu, a quiet gasp causes you to jolt slightly as your boyfriend taps you on the shoulder.

"[name], i'm so sorry but i have to go back."

"is everything ok?"

"it seems i've forgotten something important. will you be alright by yourself?"

you reassure him with a nod, smiling up at him and urging him to go; the sooner he leaves, the sooner he'll be back.

"i'll be just fine, take your time, love"

"i won't be long"

he places a hurried kiss on your forehead and rushes back to the akademiya, breaking into a run as soon as he's out of your sight.

the queue edges closer and closer to the counter, and you start to give up your space for people behind you in the hopes that alhaitham will return, but eventually you're the only person left in the queue and have no choice but to place an order.

"good evening, um, could i please have..."

you carefully pick out a couple of baked goods you think your boyfriend would enjoy, and take your time selecting the right tea.

"ah, well... my husband has just gone to run an errand but i think he'd like... an oolong tea, please"

as if you somehow summoned him, alhaitham appears beside you with an arm wrapped around your waist.

"yes, that'd be just fine. thank you"

you can feel the heavy rise and fall of his chest against your shoulder, but you say nothing of it until you're sat down with your drinks and snacks.

"are you alright? i didn't mean to hurry you, 'haitham, i know you're tired"

the scholar, however, couldn't care less about having to rush, and completely dismisses your question.

"your husband, hm? i haven't heard that one before"

a sly smirk is plastered on his face, though you know he has no malicious intent, he simply enjoys teasing you, that's all.

"well- i didn't think you'd be back in time and i- it just-"

"don't worry about it, love, i'm only teasing."

he reaches across the table with a smile, holding your hand in his and rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.

"in fact, i quite like the idea of being your husband"

you're completely stumped. alhaitham? your husband?

yes, the two of you have been together for quite some time, but never in a million years did you think you deserved to marry him.

"y-you do?!"

"of course i do, love, don't you?"

"yes absolutely! i- it'd be a dream come true"

you blurt out, feeling a heat rushing to your cheeks as they glow a bright pink. usually, you'd be embarrassed, but in this moment, it doesn't matter. it feels as if time has come to a halt, and it's just you and him. alone. together.

at least now he knows you'll say yes...

✧ tighnari.

it's yours and tighnari's 1 year anniversary (hooray!), so of course, the two of you have gone out for a meal at a fancy restaurant, recommended to you by cyno surprisingly.

you absentmindedly read out the menu, whispering any dishes which intrigue you under your breath. it's one of the little habits you have that tighnari finds oh so charming, and he can't help but gaze at you lovingly as he completely disregards the menu and pins all his attention on you.

"are you ready to order?"

a stern voice snaps him back into reality as a waitress approaches the table, taking the pen out of her breast pocket and clicking it against her notepad.

you glance over to your boyfriend, and chuckle to yourself as he panics and skims over the menu hurriedly.

"my husband is having some trouble deciding, so i'll go first if that's alright"

you shoot your boyfriend an 'innocent' smile before placing your order.

"of course, and for you, sir?"

tighnari is completely out of it, your words echoing in his mind as he seems to just float away. "my husband", "my husband", "my husband". he sits there a flustered, blushing mess. how couldn't he be? the love of his life just called him their husband. if it weren't for the waitress stood before you, he'd be burying himself in your chest from the sheer embarrassment. not that he'd be ashamed to be your husband, he'll just never get used to that tugging feeling he gets in his chest when you tease him like this.

"sir? your order?"

"r-right, excuse me..."

you watch intently as he orders, stumbling over his words and fidgeting furiously with the loose fabric of his cape. how cute.

only when you've paid the bill and started heading home does he (nervously) confront you about your teasing, squeezing your hand tightly as he, once again, stumbles over his words.

"so... husband? is- is that something you really want or is it just some little scheme of yours beca-"

"i want nothing more, 'nari"

✧ albedo.

your boyfriend, albedo, is perched on a stool in front of you, painting fervently. painting what, you ask? why, you of course!

a feeling of pure euphoria washes over him every time his eyes outline your figure; you're beautiful. every curve, every dip, every mark, everything about you is a work of art in itself.

it feels like you've been sat there forever, holding your hand to your face and staring out the window, trying your best to be the perfect muse.

after hours of daydreaming, he finally calls you over.

"i'm finished, love. you did so well"

you walk over to him, back slightly sore, rolling your shoulders with a sigh. albedo's warm arm snakes around your waist and gently pulls you down onto his lap, bringing both hands to your shoulders to give you a well deserved massage.

"do you like it?"

he nods towards the canvas, now covered in the most wonderful shades of every colour you can imagine. the way he manipulated the light and shadows is commendable, and the fabric of your carefully styled outfit seems to flow around your body perfectly.

"do i like it?! archons... it's beautiful, 'bedo"

"you're beautiful, [name]"

it looks just like you, and now, finally, you get to see a glimpse of how albedo sees you.

"my husband is just so talented, what in teyvat am i going to do, hm?"

that was all it took for him to loose him composure, looking away from your gaze yet you kept your eyes locked on his. a pink tint dusts over his cheeks, and he seems to grow slightly distant as he processes it all; it's as if you can see the gears turning behind those pretty eyes of his.

"y-your husband?"

he stammers out, hands stilling to rest on your shoulders.

"mm, you don't like it?"

his eyes widen; of course he likes it. the idea of being your husband is something that gets him so giddy he can't sleep at night. just the thought of sliding a ring onto your fingers sends shivers down his spine, and he can feel himself burning up as he stutters:

"o-oh, no, no... i do, i just- i wasn't expecting it, that's all"

best believe he'll be attached to you for the rest of the day, leaning onto your back when you go to get a glass of water, and tugging on your arm as he leads you to bed.

"one day, [name]. one day i really will be your husband, if you'll let me..."

thanks for reading ♡ want to read more? my requests are OPEN, so please feel free to let me know what you’d like me to write next!

TAGLIST…@maopll . @nyxmainex . @avensuersa . @moondrop-gummies apply here

© FICTOCULUS 2024; please do not steal, translate, or repost my works as your own

#genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham fluff #tighnari x reader #tighnari fluff #albedo x reader #albedo fluff #gn reader #hcs #fluff #genshin fluff

[mondaymelon]

hi :)) can i make a request about zhongli who has a s/o who is very self conscious and has low self esteem?? like they’re just constantly hating on themselves and have nothing good to say about themselves making poor zhongli worried :((

₊˚ෆ 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐃… | zhongli, xiao, childe x gn!reader

[ "archons forbid you in having these thoughts once more. love, you are perfect, and please don't let anyone sway that." ]

— "archons, why did i just do that? ...fuck, i'm such an idiot..."

ZHONGLI interrupted the occasional stroke of his ink-stained brush upon silk canvas, his gilded eyes glancing up and searching your face until they met yours.

"Love, why are you..." His voice trailed off as his gaze filled with warm concern, his expression softening as his brows furrowed, as if he couldn't even begin to fathom why'd you think such a thing. He set down the brush in its hold, before moving to stand. You were sat on the couch across from his desk, where you could remain in his line of sight as he did his duties, and now you were curled up on its cushions, looking at him with the corners of your mouth slightly drawn down into a pout.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He sat down next to you, unsure of how close he should get, and so hovered an arm's length away from your form. You quietly shook your head in a frustrated manner, and he made a short hum of acknowledgement. "Love, come here. Let's take a break together, you and me, alright?"

When he had received your approval, he gently held you in his arms, stroking a gloved hand in your hair soothingly. He was warm, his tall figure engulfing you, and you melted at his touch. "...Zhongli, why do you love someone like me?"

You felt his fingers' delicate touch abruptly still to a halt at your words. Silence encompassed the room, and Zhongli shifted in his seat, drawing closer and finally moving his hand to your face, grabbing at your chin and tilting it upwards so you had no choice but to stare into his glittering eyes. The traces of a smile lingered on his lips. "It'd be impossible not to."

How come your vision had grown so cloudy? "I'm bad. At everything. I can't do anything right."

"Just who told you that? Love, your character is beautiful. You're diligent, hard-working, talented, with a golden heart... it makes me wonder how I even was able to join hands with you in the first place." His corners of his mouth were truly curved upwards now, and he met your gaze with a close eyed smile, his dark-lashed lids fluttering. "Archons forbid... please don't tell that to yourself again, alright?"

Hot tears begun to spill from your eyes at his words. No, that couldn't be true. How... how come it was possible for someone like to trust you to this extent?

Ah, I know why. The thought came to you as he kissed the tears from your sorrow-laden lashes. "I love you."

His cheeks warmed just the slightest, his gaze of melted gold soft as a smile graced his lips once more.

"Yes, I love you too." ₊˚ෆ

— "agh, messed up again... archons, how come i can't do anything right??"

XIAO's head snapped up as soon as the words were uttered into the midnight air, immediately emerging from the shadows by your side as you stared over the edge of Wangshu Inn's balcony, tightly gripping the wooden railings.

"What... What did you just say?" You flinched at his sudden presence, something you had still yet to grow accustomed to. The adeptus had a habit of listening in on your rambles with yourself, and appeared whenever he deemed fit. However, your words now seemed to have angered him, as eyes were narrowed in displeasure, his cat-like diamond pupils forming mere slits.

"Is there... something wrong?" You tilted your head in confusion, watching a flit of emotions cross Xiao's face in a mere split-second.

"Yes. Three steps away." His voice made it clear that it was no mere request. Complying to his order, you duly backtracked the said amount, empty hands raised in front of you as a sign of surrender. "Don't get too close to the railing. It's dangerous."

You almost laughed. "Ah, but won't you save me if I happen to fall?"

"That's granted." Xiao scoffed, nodding a little too quickly after your question, but caught himself. It seemed that he had, in fact, learned a thing or two about mortal speech from you. "No, don't change the topic now. What you said earlier... do you really believe that?"

"...Well, it's true, isn't it?" You faced the scenery in front of you, the blue, slightly cloud dusted skies, the grooves of the land and the jagged mountains poking up out of harsh stone... it was an easier sight than looking into the adeptus' eyes at the moment. His eyes were acute, perceptive, honed sharply after years of service. Oh, that was the truth, wasn't it? You were afraid that he'd see too much in your gaze, and that he'd know how much of a pathetic failure you were, with nothing but mistake after mistake following your every movement-

"Hey." There was a light touch on your wrist - Xiao's gloved fingers, wrapping around it gently. "Just what are you thinking about? You look... upset, and I don't like it." There it was. His clear eyes, staring into yours with concern. "You... You said you couldn't do anything right, but that's not true at all, love."

Love.

Xiao had never been one to display much affection, yet he had readily agreed to use such a name for his one and only. His voice was quiet, gentle, nothing like how you had first imagined it in the days after the two of you's first encounter.

"Thank you, Xiao." You finally turned to him, face breaking into a smile, and you saw his tense figure visibly relax at your contentment.

"...What for?"

"For being here. Everything." In the dim moonlight, you just might've glimpsed the whisper of a smile on the adeptus' lips, a secret one, a small one, just for you.

"There's no need to thank me. It was the least I could do." ₊˚ෆ

— "seriously?? this is the eighth damn... i knew i it, i'm absolute shit at everything i do... "

CHILDE's eyes widened as he spun to look at you, his mouth forming a round 'o' as he spotted the countless ink splatters on the paper, on your table, on your fingers, staining your clothes - everything.

...And upon seeing the chaos, clutched his sides and burst into several bouts of laughter that stretched on for minutes. When he was done with his ridicule, he placed his hands on his hips dramatically, a playful smile still decorating his joyful expression. "Aha- Love, just what...?" His voice trailed off, surely there was no need to finish his sentence? There could only be one possible thing he was referring to, and it was the absolute mess you had created, and a mess that you now sat in the center of, blinking awkwardly with a wobbly half-smile on your lips.

"Uhm... I tried to... Ugh, nevermind..." You crumpled up the canvas sheet filled with incoherent scribbles and threw it into some archon-forsaken corner, where you prayed it would never cross your line of sight again. Under your breath, you mumbled out several curse words, a frown tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Shit, this is why no one should place any faith in me, good for nothing..."

The smile on his face dropped. Curse him, and his stupidly acute hearing. Instantly, he was a mere two inches away from you, deep ocean eyes boring into yours in an almost uncanny manner. "...Hey, just now, care to repeat that?"

"...Good for nothing...?" You flinched, unsure of where the sudden wave of bloodlust that was currently flooding your senses had come from - until you glanced up at Childe, who stood over you, his eyes closed in a happy smile but the expression on his face anything but happy.

"Who told you that?" His voice was venomous, it felt like you were being poisoned just listening to it. A dark shadow cast over his eyes, as if this were some dramatic soap opera.

"Did someone have to?" You sighed, waving your hand in the air in a dismissive way. "It's true, though. I seriously can't get anything right, and I haven't even gotten started on what I don't like about myself-"

"Stop." Childe held a finger over your mouth, pressing it to your lips and effectively bringing your words to a halt. "Stop, stop stop, it's all wrong, love!" He looked like a kicked puppy, his eyes downcast and a pout on his lips, and you could practically imagine the ginger folded ears and tail that might've been. "Seriously, how do you even think up of these kinds of things?? They're not true at all!"

Why was he so adamant on this? "But... it is?"

"That's it." Childe waltzed over to where you sat on the ground, before grabbing you from the middle and hoisting you over his shoulder, giving a little huff when you wriggled to try and break free from his grasp. "We're going on a one-week vacation. To Mondstadt. Inazuma. Sumeru. Fontaine. Shneznaya, for all I care. Just not here."

"Do... Do I have a say in this?" You frowned slightly from your position, you arms dangling over your head as you fought your hardest not to laugh.

"No."

"What's even wrong with here, why..."

"Shush. Let me take care of you, won't you?" ₊˚ෆ

(a/n) apapapappow second request done!! im not doing all that bad hehehe... wish me luck on my ap class midterm!! i should be studying rn but uhm uhm yes genshin men are first priority >>>

-> teehee what if yall left a message on my christmas tree 😶😶😶

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife

#★ ˎˊ˗ mondaymelon #astronetwrk #favoniuslibrary #x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin imagines #genshin impact #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin #zhongli x reader #zhongli genshin #zhongli x you #xiao x reader #xiao x you #childe x reader #childe x you #genshin fluff #genshin fic #x gn reader #genshin oneshots #reader insert #genshin fandom #genshin fanfiction #zhongli genshin x reader #xiao genshin x reader #genshin xiao #childe genshin x reader

[honeyskywitch]

prettier than a peach (john "bucky" egan x reader)

In which you're his favorite nurse, and John Egan tries his hardest to win your heart.

Words: 1.8K

Warnings: Bucky Egan is a warning all on his own. Fluffy, fluffy fluff.

Disclosure: Please do not copy my work on any other sites. I will be posting this here & on ao3 shortly. This fic is based on the characters brought to life in the Apple TV series Masters of the Air, not the real people the characters were based on.

Note: Peach!Reader is going to make many appearances, I'm going to make this a series. Without further adieu, enjoy.

It all started on a Saturday morning. It was early—really early. You hadn't really expected to have anyone walking around near the infirmary, but at half past 0300, you heard the sounds of heavy footfalls, with slurred speech and another low voice arguing.

 You get up to look out the window, and not a second goes by before the door swings open. You recognize the two men instantly: Major Gale "Buck" Cleven is half dragging Major John "Bucky" Egan into the infirmary. 

"Morning, ma'am." Major Cleven's blue eyes zero in on you immediately, and he offers you a kind (and apologetic) smile. "My buddy here had a bit too much to drink and got himself into a scuffle with some guys at the bar." 

Your gaze flickers to Major Egan, studying him with a calculating gaze. He's going to have a black eye, you notice, and he's holding onto the left side of his ribs. It's not the first time you've heard of the Major getting into a fight, but it's the first time it's happened on your shift. 

"Alright, Major." You're addressing Egan now, coming to his side to support his left side. "Let's get you settled in bed so I can take a look at those ribs." 

You are wholly unprepared for the absolute human hurricane that is Major John Egan.

"Tryin' to get me in bed already, doll?" His words are slurred from too much alcohol, but his voice is deep and husky, and you hate the way it makes you shiver. "I don't even know your name."

Major Cleven sucks in a breath and rolls his eyes. "John Clarence Egan." That accent drawls his friend's name, and his tone is very much annoyed. "You're in the presence of a lady—a nurse—for crying out loud. Behave."

"Oh, c'mon, she walked right into that one." He insists, "She thought it was funny. You thought it was funny, right, doll?"

Stormy blue eyes are suddenly fixed on your face. It's almost like time stops for you; of course you've seen him around before, but the moment you really look into his eyes, it's like you can see your whole life ahead of you. He's quiet now, just watching you, and he finds himself absolutely anamored with the delicate blush working its way onto your face.

"It was a little funny." You admit it, but you don't meet his eyes again. You're too afraid of what you'll see on his face, because while you're falling hard and fast at first sight, he's only flirting with a woman. That's all it is to him, you're sure of it.

His chest is warm when you open his jacket and roll up his shirt. You have to ignore how beautifully masculine he is on order to focus on your job. Your eyes flicker to his abdomen, and sure enough, there are wicked bruises starting to show on the skin that covers his ribs. You're pretty sure they're not broken, but you have to be sure.

"This may hurt." You warn him, your fingers prodding gently at his side, and he hisses quietly under his breath. You don't feel anything out of place, but he'll definitely need a few hours of rest and something to ease the pain.

"Your hands are freezing." He grumbles, and before you can say anything, he's got both of them in his much bigger, warmer hands. "There, that's better."

"You're unbelievable, John Egan." Major Cleven speaks up from behind you, his tone more exasperated than anything else.

You carefully extract your hands from Major Egan's, and you try to ignore the way he pouts when you're no longer touching him. "I'll keep him overnight for observation, Major Cleven. Make sure he rests and heals up a bit."

Major Cleven looks strangely relieved, but still, he frowns. "Are you sure? I can handle Bucky; I don't want him causing you any trouble."

His gentle demeanor makes you smile. "I appreciate that, Major, but I've dealt with far rowdier men than Major Egan here. You go on and get some rest; I'll handle this."

Major Egan looks irritated that you and his best friend were talking about him like he wasn't even there. "Just call me Bucky. Or I'll take John." He tells you, his tone demanding, his lips pulled into yet another pout.

"You behave yourself." Major Cleven points a finger at him, his face stern. When he turns back to you, he offers another warm smile. "You might as well call me Buck, too, since you're saving me from trying to sleep in the same room as that one while he's drunk."

You offer your name in return, and you offer a comforting smile as you shoo Buck off to bed.

It's quiet for a moment after the other Major takes his leave. You wonder if the alcohol has made Major Egan fall asleep. You're surprised to see his eyes open and staring directly at you when you turn around.

"Can't remember if I've ever seen you around before." He says, his words still slightly slurred as he speaks. You can't recall ever having heard a voice like his before. Gravely, warm and steady, even with alcohol in his system. "I'd remember that face; you're so pretty."

"And you're drunk." You answer, turning away before he can notice that you're blushing. You've dealt with flirty airmen before, but this is the first time it's really gotten to you. "Get some rest, Major."

He's quiet for a moment, and you're grateful for a reprieve from the flirting as you mark the log book with a pencil. The only noise for a few moments is the lead scratching against the paper as you write.

"I'm gonna call you Peach."

When you turn back, his lips tug into the most heart-stopping smirk you've ever seen. "You could just call me Nurse." You point out, and for some reason, that only seems to egg him on.

"Well, I like Peach. You're prettier than a peach. Sweet as one too; look at that blush." You're sure you've forgotten how to breathe.

"You're a menace." You answer after you've finally gotten a hold of your emotions. "And it's early; you need rest. Sleep."

"How about a goodnight kiss first?" You almost toss the log book at him. Almost. "Just one on the forehead, and then I'll sleep. Scout's honor, Peach."

You sigh, your eyes darting over his face for a moment. Sure, he's a flirt, but you've never heard of him ever harming a woman. So you walk over to his bedside and lean down.

His forehead is warm, an errant curl tickling your cheek as your lips press against his skin. You feel him shudder under the touch of your lips against him, but then his breathing evens back out as you lean away.

"Alright, Major, you got your kiss. Now sleep." He doesn't miss the way your eyes flicker to his lips and away again, but he does as he's told and rolls over onto his side.

After he falls asleep, the morning is quiet. Your shift at the infirmary ends at 0600 and the nurse who comes to relieve you doesn't seem surprised to see Bucky there. She rolls her eyes and huffs a laugh as you explain how he came to be in a bed in the infirmary.

He's shifting awake as you're leaving, and his blue eyes have just enough time to focus on your retreating form before you're gone. He was a little saddened; he'd been hoping for one more kiss.

Outside, the air is still cool, and the sun is just beginning to peek beyond the horizon. The inky blackness of the sky is lightening to a shade of blue that looks like Major Egan's eyes, and God, you have to stop thinking about him. You really didn't need to get attached.

You pass Buck on the way back to your quarters, and he waves at you with one of his dazzling smiles as he passes. He's wearing his uniform, and you know that means he'll be out in the sky soon enough. You return his smile and wave happily.

Exhaustion sweeps through you as you enter your quarters, and you make quick work of taking your hair pins out and wiping your makeup off. By the time your head hits the pillow, sleep pulls you under. The only things on your mind as you fall asleep are dark curls and blue eyes.

***

Hours later, you blink awake. There's still sunlight flittering in through the curtains over your window, and you sit up to stretch your arms and shoulders. It had to be close to dinnertime, and your stomach rumbles as you slip out of bed and dress in your uniform. Sometimes you missed your dresses back home, but you always felt a sense of pride in your olive drab skirt and jacket. You make sure to swipe on your Victory Red lipstick before you leave.

Placing your cover under your arm, you slip out of your barracks just to come face-to-face with a man. Not just any man, either.

"Peach!" He's still loud, his face wide and warm and friendly. His breath smells like the peppermint gum he's chewing, and his eyes are clear. "Don't think I didn't see you slip out of the room before I could ask for my morning kiss."

He's smiling so brightly that it's like looking at the sun. He's all white teeth and dark curls and blue eyes, his cover tucked under his arm. He's got a single flower in his free hand. You've never seen someone look so devastatingly beautiful.

"Major." You greet him, and it's a good thing you didn't put on blush when refreshing your makeup because your face is hot now. Just from looking at him. "What brings you to the women's barracks?"

"I told you, Peach. Call me Bucky. Or John." His grin never falters. You want to kiss the corner of his mouth, nip at the jawline. He's got so much energy and vitality, and your heart beats so loudly that it's a wonder he can't hear. "Well, I came to offer you this gorgeous flower I found on my way over here and ask if you'd like to dance with me tonight."

You'd forgotten all about the party tonight. A crew completing their 25th mission—you hadn't really planned on attending, but you find yourself very tempted to go. "I'm not really the party type." You admit that, and that dims the light in his eyes a little. You regret the words immediately.

"Just one dance." He steps in closer, taking up more space. He's so tall and broad-shouldered; the man takes up so much room that it makes you feel small in the best way. "For your favorite patient? After all, you did give me a good-night kiss. That's gotta count for something."

Your mind rewinds to that moment, when he was fever-warm and shivering under your lips, when you'd wanted so badly to let him kiss you all over. If you weren't blushing before, you sure are now. "Alright, Bucky," You have to ignore the way he lights up when you use his nickname. "One dance."

#bucky egan x reader #bucky egan #john egan x reader #john bucky egan x reader #mota fic #snow writes.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Yokai Harem x Reader (III)

On your travels with the two demon companions, you stumble upon a fortified village plagued by monster attacks. It would be quite unlucky if the grand finale happened just as you step foot inside, right? Worry not, you're saved by a third mysterious yokai that you immediately recognize. The harem grows!

Content: female reader, monsters, violence

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Character Guide]

“Alright, how’s this?”

You do a clumsy pirouette before the two yokai men.

“That’s...are you sure?” Kiritsubo eyes you, mildly confused. “It’s usually what men wear.”

Of course, you already know. After weeks of walking through feudal Japan, you’ve reached the conclusion that modern clothing isn’t the most practical choice. Not to mention the strange looks you always get from other people upon your arrival in any village. You needed something to blend in, and the typical fashion for your gender might not be compatible with your training. You’d rather not swing a sword while covered in multiple layers of kimono.

Thus, you opted for the hakama pants typically worn by men. With your hair tied up and in this baggy attire, one could think you’re a young samurai. If they squint enough. You chuckle at the thought.

“She’ll wear whatever allows her to not be a burden.” Murasaki concludes with crossed arms.

One way to put it, you tell yourself.

“If you’re done discussing fashion, we can leave.” The dark-haired man continues with indifference, standing up and adjusting the swords in the folds of his sash.

Both you and Kiritsubo hurry and follow behind obediently.

“Where are we going this time?” You ask sheepishly.

“South-west. An old residence of his, although we will have to pass through a fortified settlement first. We should reach it before sunset.”

It’s hard to imagine you’re the supposed savior in this equation. Murasaki has been leading you by the hand each step, carefully considering every detail on the map, and extensively planning your travels every evening. All this on top of your daily training. You’ve now mastered the basics with the katana he’s provided you, as well as some common prayers for exorcising small-class demons.

You glance at the daisho pair of swords under his belt. A long, thin blade, and a shorter backup version, both in elaborate matching scabbards meant to showcase the status and wealth of the samurai wearing them. In this case, meant to express his rank as the advisor and right hand of the famed onmyōji. You certainly don’t doubt Nakamaro’s decision to rely on Murasaki.

In comparison, Kiritsubo carries a nagamaki at his waist. A comically long blade in your opinion, used mostly to bring down horses during battle. Any regular sword would’ve been too small for him. Despite his imposing appearance, you’ve learned rather quickly just how different Kiritsubo is from the other yokai. He’s quite clumsy in combat, often anxious about making mistakes, terribly apologetic, and overall has a heart too kind for his own good. If there’s hesitation coming from his side, Murasaki immediately follows with his ruthless, ending blows. As a matter of fact, even you’ve had to do the occasional killing to spare the man of such choices.

The silver-haired demon notices your eyes on him and smiles, excited. He reminds you of a large dog. A horned, fanged dog of monstrous strength, nonetheless the innocence is there. And he does make a great travel companion.

“How much longer?” You grunt, looking up.

“Are you tired? I can carry you for the rest of the way-” Kiritsubo instantly offers but is interrupted by Murasaki’s barked orders.

“She can walk. Don’t spoil her.” He glares at you, then nods ahead. “We’re almost there, so quit your whining.”

True to his word, you can finally discern the outline of a wall at the top of the hill. A few more steps, and you can even spot two guards standing beside the great gate.

“Stop there!”

The soldiers lift their spears threateningly. Before you can react, Murasaki steps in front of you with a hand placed on his sword.

“We’re just passing through.” He states factually.

“We’re no longer allowing visitors.” One of the guards exclaims. “The village has been raided by monsters recently and our Lord has closed all gates until the matter is solved.”

“That means no filthy demons go in.” The other adds in a mocking tone, his gaze lingering on the horns of your companions. His mouth curls in disgust.

You can tell Murasaki is angered by the disrespectful approach. He is not one to let such insults slide and you’d rather avoid him claiming unnecessary victims; therefore, you push past his arm and plant yourself ahead with a polite greeting bow.

“These yokai are with me. I vouch for their good behavior, so please consider letting us through. Perhaps we can even help you with these monsters.”

“You? How would you…”

The man stops abruptly, switching between you and the yokai. Eventually he inspects your scabbard, and he gasps, confusion twisting his features.

“Could it be? No…He’d be dead by now.”

“What are you talking about?” His partner inquires impatiently.

“That’s the family seal belonging to Abe no Nakamaro.” He explains, pointing to the golden finish at the end of your katana handle. “I’ve heard about him from my grandparents. But it’s been decades!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re saying this kid is a legendary onmyōji?”

“Who else would show up with demons as servants? Everything matches. Perhaps his powers have finally reached immortality”, he concludes solemnly.

The men continue their argument, and you clear your throat, embarrassed. What the hell? You can’t possibly look that manly. Sure, you’ve been skipping the makeup, and the clothes aren’t exactly curve shaping, but to be mistaken for an old man is like a slap to the face.

You’re about to deny their claims, but Murasaki swiftly pinches the back of your neck, and you wince. He lowers himself to your ear and whispers:

“This will be to our advantage. Just go along with it.” “Fine!” You mumble angrily. Then you turn back to the guards.

“V-very well, I see I haven’t been forgotten.” You admit, theatrically. “Lead me to your Lord and we shall discuss the details of your monster attack.”

Thus, you sip on your tea, kneeling at the luxurious table and awaiting the arrival of the feudal Lord. The servants are exchanging words, gossiping fervently next to the wall. “I wonder if he can cure my daughter!” one woman mumbles, visibly emotional.

“Do you think we can finally be saved? He’ll truly exorcise the beasts tormenting our village?” another whispers.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead and glare at Murasaki. You had no idea he’d given you Nakamaro’s old sword. Now you’re stuck pretending to be a pompous, long-dead asshat.

“What if they catch us?” You hiss between your teeth. “I don’t know shit about onmyōdō.”

“Then I’ll just kill them all. Simple as that.” The crimson-eyed man retorts, unconcerned. “Have a little fun, won’t you?”

“W-we’ll help you come up with answers, (Y/N). Don’t worry.” Kiritsubo chimes in, trying to reassure you.

You sigh in frustration and look out the window. The sun must’ve set a long time ago and has since been replaced by a pitch-black sky. What’s keeping the Lord? Surely, he can’t be having important business meetings late at night.

Almost as if your thoughts were read, the door slides open and a servant wobbles in. The rest of the household workers are silent, expecting the entrance of their master, but no one is following behind. You observe the bizarre limp of the woman. Suddenly, she collapses to the floor, revealing her bloodied back torn by deep wounds, caused by some sort of claw. Her body is stiff.

Panic settles in right away, and the servants topple over each other to get away from the fresh cadaver. You struggle to get up among the terrified crowd, but thankfully Murasaki grabs your wrist and pulls you out into a quieter hallway.

“What the hell?” is all you manage to say.

“Rotten.” Kiritsubo furrows his brows, sniffing the air. “Someone in here must be possessed. Could be more of them.”

Murasaki surveys the surroundings and gestures towards his partner.

“We have to see if the Lord is still alive. You go that way. I’ll take the front. Kill everyone suspicious.”

“What about me?” You demand, holding your breath.

“Get out and wait for us. You know how to draw a protection circle, don’t you? I won’t take long.” The dark-haired yokai answers before vanishing.

Judging by the screams and wails coming from all directions, you suspect Kiritsubo is right about multiple attackers. You sprint across the hall, looking for an opening. The self-defense lessons didn’t cover cursed humans with demonic powers. You’ll stay out of this one.

What an absolute mess. You have encountered some demons in your weeks spent here, but nothing to this degree. When the guards mentioned a monster attack, you imagined a ghost with a grudge, or some small fry yokai scaring the workers at night, not a mass curse that ends in a massacre. Of course, it had to happen the moment you arrived at the main house.

You find a room with a door leading to the inner courtyard. Seems isolated enough and it should provide a bit of shelter while you wait for the pair to finish the business. As you rush past the dead bodies, you notice a woman hiding behind a screen divider.

“Ah! It’s you!” she yells, aware of your presence.

From the shadow of her secret spot emerges the small frame of a child. The woman pushes the little human towards you, blocking your path.

“Don’t worry, he’ll protect us.” she gives her child another nudge. “Go on, hold onto him. You’ll be safe.”

What? No, no, no, no, no. Not happening. You’re getting out.

“Ma’am, sorry to break it to you under such circumstances, but I’m not-”

You’re interrupted by a loud growl. One of the possessed creatures must’ve followed your scent, and it’s now sliding into the room on all fours with the bones of the limbs twisting and creaking in unnatural pounces. You purse your lips in a frightened grimace. One advantage of the wide hakama pants – useful to know – is that no one can see your knees shaking cowardly.

Theoretically, you could use the brat as bait and run for your life. It’d make a decent obstacle. Unfortunately for your life span, you’ve been gifted with an idiotic sense of duty instead of survival instincts.

“Keep your distance. If I can’t kill it, get out and don’t look back” you advise, positioning yourself in the learned stance and sliding the sword out of its sheath.

Damn it! Then again, it should be like fighting a zombie, right? Given the pathetic way it drags itself around, it can’t be too difficult to hit. Aim for the head, you repeat in your mind. Your fingers grip around the handle.

The ghoulish beast lowers itself, like a spring about to recoil, and leaps across the room with an ease you did not anticipate. Despite your iron hold, it slaps the blade out of your hands with enormous force. The impact breaks your skin, and you wince. There’s no time to weep, within seconds it could go for your vitals next. While Murasaki hasn’t gotten around to teaching you much hand-to-hand combat, you’ve read your fair share of shounen manga. The first idea that comes to mind is to put the beast in a sumo lock. You bend your knees smoothly and wrap your arms around the monster, feeling for something to hold onto. You grit your teeth and attempt to lift the creature.

A thundering laugh resonates within the walls, and you jolt, startled.

“I never thought I’d see the mighty Abe no Nakamaro wrestling with ankle biters like this. What are you going to do, throw it out of the ring?”

The voice is deep, loud, and unfamiliar. You can’t afford to look back to see the source, but it’s not hard to figure out the possibilities. So far, you’ve only been called by that cursed name by the yokai accomplices. Although now is not the best time to seek revenge.

“Shut up, I panicked”, you snap in frustration. “If you can’t help, keep that trap closed!”

The sudden burst of anger seems to have triggered something within your body, a power you don’t recognize. You watch as your arms effortlessly pick up the monster and swing it across the room, its body demolishing the opposing wall and causing thick clouds of dust to rise and spread everywhere.

The impact must’ve alerted the nearby ghouls, as you can now hear the agitated trample and screeching rapidly approaching. You’re not confident you can pull the same lucky move a second time.

You turn to search for your sword, but it’s already being handed to you by the mysterious yokai who’s been observing your little fight. You have to step aside and tilt your head all the way back in order to fully view the gigantic frame of the man.

Ah, you recognize the features immediately. The same kind of fear you felt when you stumbled upon that old shrine statue is now tugging at your chest.

“You’re Suma, right?”

A proud, wide grin forms on his face, revealing a pair of glistening fangs. His expression is unexpectedly soft and friendly.

“We’re halfway through our introductions then, eh?” You pick up the sword and his fingers stretch out for a handshake. “What is your given name? I’m guessing you don’t willingly go by that…title.”

“I very much prefer (Y/N), yes.” You marvel at the significant difference in size, placing your small hand in his. “Was that your power I just used?”

“Mhhm. You sure surprised me there! It’s not something I did intentionally, but I s’ppose we just resonate that well, huh?”

He laughs again, completely unbothered by the impending danger.

“Alright, you can leave the rest to me. Take the lady outside, it will get a little messy.”

And with that, he casually walks towards the gathering of ghouls. You guide the family to the courtyard and wait for the battle to end.

“Do you think she’ll be fine by herself?” Kiritsubo is resting against the fence, keeping you under a watchful gaze.

“Let the humans sort it out among themselves.” Murasaki responds, somewhat bored.

The morning after the attack, you offered to deal with the survivors: ask them how everything started, if they’d noticed anything suspicious days prior to the event, and if the route to Nakamaro’s old residence was still open. The yokai men had found the feudal Lord in the jaws of a possessed creature and he quickly succumbed to his wounds. Consequently, only the remaining servants could provide them with clues.

A village being targeted like this is highly unusual, and Murasaki can’t shake the feeling it could be related to their master.

“Oh, where are you heading after this?” The silver-haired yokai glances at Suma, sitting lazily next to them.

“Where? After you just told me the whole story? I’m way too invested in this modern reincarnation that just popped out of nowhere, so I’m tagging along!” He announces with a chuckle.

Murasaki frowns.

“We don’t need your help.”

“Don’t be like that.” The giant man pouts dramatically. “Are you upset I saved (Y/N) before you?”

“W-we were on our way!” Kiritsubo retorts, visibly bothered.

“It’s a done deal!” Suma rests his hands under his head and yawns. “Besides, the little human already said he doesn’t mind.”

“He? (Y/N) is a woman.”

The redhead abruptly sits up and gasps.  

“Wait, what?”

“Don’t get funny ideas, man”, the silver-haired demon warns.

#female reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere yokai harem #yokai harem #yandere yokai #yandere fic #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yokai x reader #yandere monster x reader #monster x reader #monster x human #monster romance #monster boyfriend #yandere original character #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #male yandere x reader

[d0youc0py]

I’ve been seeing so much ex husband price stuff on here and it’s making me drool. So I’m contributing some ex husband/not divorced yet but taking a break for vague reasons but you both still deeply love each other TF 141….Also this is sappy, dramatic and not accurate character portrayal—just let me live in denial!

“Johnathan, it’s 1 am.” You groaned, trying to rub the sleep from your eyes.

“Go back to bed, Honey.” He muttered back quickly. You shot him a glare at the term of endearment. He was balancing a flashlight between his teeth, his back mostly turned to you.

“Are you fixing that window?” You questioned, turning on the overhead light. He must’ve not wanted to wake you. He took the flashlight out of his mouth, looking over his shoulder at you. His chest swelled at the sight of you in one of his shirts. It took every ounce of self restraint not to wrap you up in his arms. “I told you over the phone I hired someone to come and fix it.” You yawned.

“And have some stranger traipsing through the house.” He huffed. You watched as his arms flexed at even the slightest movements. You hated these moments of weakness. It was the same reason why you couldn’t fall asleep unless you were wearing one of his shirts. Or the same reason you would light a cigar like it was incense. The same reason why you always answered his daily calls. Then you’d remember why you wanted a divorce in the first place. It always felt like someone dumping cold water on you.

And thats exactly how you felt now.

“That’s not your problem anymore, John.” You reminded. His blood ran cold. Yet he kept up his unbothered appearance.

“Never a problem, Honey.” He assured, still keeping his back to you. You sighed running a hand over your face.

“I just- I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to just show up whenever you want. It’s my house right? That’s what you agreed to. It’s not just some motel you can show up at whenever you want to feel needed.” You spat. His body was still and ridged. His teeth ached from the tight clenching of his jaw and the pain in his chest was wince worthy.

“I know.” He said slowly. “I just want you to know I’ll always take care of you, Honey.” He began to turn towards you but stopped himself. He couldn’t stand to see the look on your face.

“I don’t need you to take care of me, John.” You continued. “I was able to survive before you and when you left me every other month.” You don’t know why you were being so forceful with him. Maybe it was because you hadn’t physically seen him in a few weeks.

“Well maybe I’m not doing it for you, hmm?” He shot back, finally facing you. His eyes were just as red the day you walked out of the lawyers office. “You made your decision, but that doesn’t mean you just stopped being the most important thing in my life. So yeah, I’m going to drop by if I feel I need to because I vowed to always take care of you and no fucking paper you make me sign is going to take that away from me. If you don’t like that you can get a restraining order.”

He didn’t even have a moment to catch his breath before your hands found their way to his shoulders, pulling him down for a kiss.

“Hey, Cap.” You smiled into your phone. Calls from Price were kinda common- he just liked to check up on you here and there, but you could tell by the sigh on the other end this wasn’t going to be about you.

“Hey, Kiddo.” He started. “I catch you at a good time?” He questioned.

“Yeah, just watching TV. Everything alright?” You questioned back. There was another sigh on his end, and it sounded like he was taking a drag of his cigar.

“No one’s hurt.” He was trying to pick his words carefully. “It’s ’bout Simon, though.”

“Okay.” You responded slowly. Just the mention of Simon’s name had a small tremor rise in your body. It’s not like you had gone no-contact with him. He called you a few times a week just to ask if you needed anything, if anything in the flat needed to be fixed, or just to make sure you locked all the windows before going to sleep. “You’re building up a lot of suspense here, Cap.” You offered a fake chuckle.

“Sorry.” He paused again and you wanted to rip your hair out. “He’s just- I know it’s really none of my business what happened between the two of you but he’s not doing good, Love.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s doing fine work-wise. But I’m worried about him personally. He’s droppin’ weight, smoking a couple packs a day, drinkin’ when he knows he’s not suppose to be. When he’s not doing that he just sits and stares. Johnny has to check his pulse sometimes.” It was his turn to offer you a chuckle. Another pause and drag. A few fat tears rolled down your cheeks and Price ran a hand over his face when he heard you sniffle. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but I also know you would get after me if I didn’t. Now you don’t owe him anything, but I think just a call from you would help him out a lot.”

“You think he’s doing this because of me?” You whispered.

“Course.” Price responded immediately. He cringed at himself. “What I mean to say is, you’re that man’s ‘reason.’ You get what I’m saying? Men like me and him need a reason. A reason to come home. A reason to be better. A reason to just get our asses out of bed at the crack of dawn. Like I said you don’t owe him anything, Kiddo, but I think just hearing your voice would do him some good.”

“Thank you, Price. For looking out for him and me.” You said sincerely.

“It’s what I get paid for.” He shot back with a laugh. You rolled your eyes, pressing the big red button after a ‘goodbye’. Your swollen eyes raked over the wedding photos you still had hanging in the living room. You couldn’t not call him. You wondered how long he’d been acting like this. Had he been doing it the whole time you had been separated? You rubbed at your eyes working up the courage to press his contact in your phone.

It only rang once before he answered.

“You alright?” He asked quickly.

“Yeah.” You replied, taking a deep breath. “Just calling to check in.” You said slowly. You heard him breathe a sigh of relief.

“Checkin’ in on me?” He repeated. Your heart ached at the thought that he seemed to think you didn’t care about him.

“That okay?” You urged. He hummed in agreement. “If you’re busy I can call bac”-

“Not busy.” He cut off. “What’ve you been up to?” You heard some shuffling and it sounded like he was getting into bed. You wondered what time it was wherever he was in the world.

“Nothing too interesting. I got a new cat! She’s an older tabby who’s seen some things, but she’s a Sweetheart.” You rambled on smiling.

“She probably thinks she’s in heaven with you.” He snickered. You giggled at his words and his eyes shut tightly trying to soak up every second of it.

“Simon, is there anyway when you get back you could help me move in a new cat tower? They’re all fighting over the one we have.” Using the word ‘we’ had just become habit when talking to Simon. You didn’t even realize you had said it. But you using that word was all the ‘reason’ he needed.

“Of course. I’ll be home Wednesday. That work for you?” His heart was beating out of his chest like it did the very first time he asked you out on a date.

“That’s perfect. I’ll see you then, Si.”

*inaccurate medical rules*

Your leg bounced up and down nervously, your eyes about to burn a hole in the pale blue curtain. You were in an accident- not a major one, but you did receive a concussion.

Johnny was still your emergency contact and according to the nurses he was more than willing to pick you up.

“He’s not entirely my husband.” You began. The nurse raised his eyes from the clipboard for a split second before shrugging.

“Says it in your file and he’s still your emergency contact. He’s already on his way, but do you have anyone else we could call?” His tone was bored and you wondered how many times he had to have this conversation a day. You slowly shook your head. “Well we can’t just let you leave by yourself.” He sighed.

“I know, but I filed for divorce. He just refuses to sign it. Doesn’t that count for anything?” You pleaded. The nurse gave you a sour look.

“I can change your emergency contact so in future accidents he won’t be contacted.” You furrowed your brows at his choice of words.

“Hopefully there won’t be anymore accidents.” Your body stiffened at the all too familiar voice. The curtain was drawn back revealing your husband. He gave you a soft smile and you hated the way it settled your stomach.

“Yeah right, so change your emergency contact or no?” The nurse piqued up. You shut your eyes tightly, shaking your head side to side. You wished the floor would swallow you. The nurse looked between you and Johnny before giving you two some privacy.

“I’m sorry about all this, John.” You sighed standing up. “They wouldn’t let me leave without someone signing for me. If you could just walk me out, I can call an Uber.”

“John?” He repeated, in a whisper. It was probably just intended for himself. His chest tightened. No nicknames. He partly hoped that this experience would’ve softened you. Made you happy to be alive. Make you want to wrap your arms around him and call off the whole ‘divorce’ thing. He can picture all the times you sprawled out on his chest, whispering into his skin how safe you felt with him. Now here you were inching yourself away from him like he would ever hurt you. “I’d rather take you home.” He pressed.

“It’s seriously okay John”-

“Enough with the formalities.” He snipped. Your eyes widened and he groaned at his mistake. “You’re discounting everything we’ve been through together. Treating me like some stranger.” He growled out.

“Well what am I suppose to do? Hmm? You want me to call you ‘Mac’ again. Or any of the other ridiculous nicknames I made up for you? Well I’m not going to do that! You were good to me for so many years, Johnny- please don’t think I have forgotten that. But this last year it’s like I haven’t even existed to you. You’re taking every single job that is thrown your way like you don’t even want to be with me anyone, so I’m just doing what you do obviously want but aren’t going to say.” Your voice shook and tears dropped from your eyes, but you held your ground. His jaw clenched tightly, his eyes red from holding back what you had already given up hiding.

“You think I want this? I”-

“Hey, as much as this has been the highlight of my week, we actually need your bed back.” The nurse interrupted, peaking his head through the curtains. Your flushed but nodded your head in understanding. Johnny was hot on your trail following you out. The cold air felt nice against your heated body and you turned to Johnny waiting for him to make the first step.

“I’m sorry for gettin’ on you in there.” He sighed. He shifted on his feet. “I just miss you.” His eyes refused to meet yours knowing it would cause him to break. He opened and closed his mouth trying to find the words to how desperately he wanted you in his life.

“For a man who loves to talk you sure are having a hard time.” You sniffled, wiping at your still streaming eyes.

That was all he needed to let it out. It was sloppy and unfiltered, but yet it shattered your world and everything you thought you knew about the man and how he felt about you.

You saw him at the store. It wasn’t the first time you had run into him- actually you two seemed to be bumping into each other all over the place. And without hesitation every single time he would flee the scene like you were some bully from high school he ran into. The same thing happened tonight. You both turned into the same aisle, stared at each other for a moment, then he dropped his basket and charged out the door.

You had already made up your mind weren’t going to let him go this easy.

You rushed after him, at a speed walk pace.

“Kyle!” You shouted after him in the parking lot. He was just opening the door to his sleek black car, one of his feet inside already. He paused for a moment, before sliding into the drivers seat. You were able to grab the door handle before he shut it on you.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” He growled, beginning to tug the door back. Your hand gripped the car door and he quickly faltered not wanting to slam it shut on your fingers.

“Just let me talk, please?” You begged. Those same brown eyes that you had spent the best part of your life staring into bore coldly into yours. “I just- We keep running into each other. I just think it’s silly that we keep avoiding each other.”

“Not silly.” He shot back without missing a beat. “You don’t want me anymore, remember?” Your heart dropped.

“Ky, that’s not true”-

“Fucking save it, Y/N. You’re the one who wanted to take a break. Why don’t you just divorce me and get it over with already.” He spat. His face curled in a way that made you want to die.

“Is that what you want?” You asked quietly. He ran his hands up and down his face.

“I’m tired of your games, Lovie.” His voice held no warmth. “I want my partner back. The same person who I vowed to spend the rest of my life with. The same person I vowed to love and protect- but that person doesn’t even seem to be you anymore. I couldn’t imagine just cutting you out of my life the way you did to me. And the fact that you were able to do it fucking terrifies me. Just call me when you figure your shit out.”

He shut the door and you let him.

#d0youc0py #doyoucopy #cod #cod men #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod mwf2 #fluff #sfw #simon ghost riley #captain john price #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #ghost x reader #ghost x gender neutral reader #captain price x reader #price x reader #price x gender neutral reader #Soap x reader #soap x gn!reader #soap x y/n #gaz x reader #gaz x gn!reader #cod x y/n #cod x you #cod x gn!reader #captain john price x reader

[twelve-forfend]

Well, I did say this was a multi-fandom blog... Alright, let's do this.

The Qing Jing Peak Lord's Bamboo House

(and the symbolism therein, as recorded in the donghua)

I was snooping through the establishing shots of the Qing Jing Peak Lord's Bamboo House, and had to laugh as I always do at all the gay symbolism that managed to sneak its way inside. But then I looked a little closer, and was floored by just how much passive storytelling was packed into background assets. I talked about it at length over discord, and at the urging of others decided to make a shareable post on social media as well.

First, the shots which first piqued my interest in this topic years ago:

Shen Yuan transmigrates into the stallion-genre webnovel entitled 狂傲仙魔途 (translated as Proud Immortal Demon Way). The author's and his own usernames are dick jokes.

Notice the chrysanthemum vase, the cock vase, and the stallion statuette.

The stallion and cock are obvious nods to these jokes on their own, but for the uninitiated, the chrysanthemum is a symbol of gay sex between men, as the asshole itself is often euphemistically referred to as a chrysanthemum. This should have been Shen Yuan's first clue that not all is as it seems here! These are the personal quarters of Shen Jiu — the original Shen Qingqiu!

But let's move to the main room you first walk into upon entering the bamboo house.

There it is: the writing on the wall.

As the Peak Lord of strategy and the scholarly arts, Shen Qingqiu would naturally have calligraphy and paintings hanging everywhere! So let's break it down.

On the top we have 道㳒自然 ("Dao Follows Nature"), which comes from a Dao teaching by Laozi (founder of Daoism) meaning that life, death, the entire universe, the heavens and earth and everything outside and inbetween, all follow a set of laws referred to as the nature of things. Although unrelated to the Buddhist couplet below, it's certainly relevant!

Originally hanging in right-to-left order, I've arranged them to read left to right here to make things easier to keep track of. The calligraphy reads 西方竹葉千年翠；南海蓮九品香 and is a couplet commonly found in Guanyin temples. My classical chinese is not as strong as I'd like, but this translates roughly to "The bamboo leaves in Paradise are green for a thousand years / The fragrance of lotus flowers in the South China Sea is as thick as 9 sticks of incense."

The character 西 for West is used to denote the destination of enlightenment/purity: the buddhist Paradise (think Journey to the West). The South China Sea is where Guanyin was born. Upon the Lotus flowers is where Guanyin is commonly depicted as sitting. The "9 sticks of incense" though literal can also refer to the 9 tiers/grades of reincarnation lotuses with the 9th tier being the lowest, meant for those who in life committed the most evil of crimes — the 4 parajikas — and who can only manage a sincere Amitabha recitation 10 times and no more than this.

To put this in context with Shen Jiu (the same jiu as in 9/九), the 4 parajikas committed by the 9th Tier Lotuses Reborn (officially entitled the Lowest of the Low) are:

Sexual Intercourse

Stealing

Murder

Claiming attainments of stages of pure mental concentration that have not been achieved (in other words, rushing or lying about your cultivation/enlightenment, or maybe even becoming a Peak Lord without having formed a golden core beforehand).

From what we know in the context of the novel, Shen Jiu is innocent of at least the first of this parajikas, but the overall view of Shen Jiu in the eyes of others in the story is that he is guilty of them all. This calligraphy can be seen as a condemnation or a reminder for the character Shen Jiu, who even as the Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu is widely thought of as a scum villain and the lowest of the low.

Phew! That's a lot to unpack.

But if you turn your gaze to the original screenshot, you'll see to the right that there's a vase painted with a blue bird. This vase appears in several rooms of the bamboo house, and seems to be the image of a qingniao (青鸟; lit: Qing bird, wherein 青 can mean blue/green/clear-but-brackish black).

These qing-coloured birds are messengers and foragers of the Goddess-Mother of Paradise (Xiwang-mu 西王母, the "west/paradise" character from before, lit West-King(unisex)-Mother). They're a highly intelligent species who are exceptional in song (a good representative for Qing Jing's scholarly arts and pursuit of qin!), and the older ones might learn to speak human tongue. As a subspecies of luanniao (鸾鸟 lit: luan bird), they're thought to be related to The Phoenix and indeed thought to be the lifetime/samsara just before being reborn as a Phoenix.

If given to a "master" they don't like, the qingniao may refuse to pass messages or sing until they're set free, but if they do get along with you then they're loyal to the end.

As a point of interest, the Qing generation of Peak Lords uses the character 清, which is 青 ("colour of nature; brackish black, blue, green; young) + the radical for "water," resulting in the meaning of clear (as in water or heart; see-through); distinct; quiet (as in still); just and honest; pure; to settle or clear up; to clean up, expunge, or purge.

And as a bit of trivia, Liu Qingge's sword Cheng Luan 乘鸾 means "to ride the luan, take flight on the back of a luan." (Relevant, because the qingniao is considered a subspecies of luanniao).

With the Lords of both Qing Jing and Bai Zhan referencing this bird, I really wonder about its significance! It's spawning plenty of theories and headcanons for me.

Heading back outside for a moment, you'll find that in the Quiet Pool (清静小池 qingjing xiaochi (yes, the same Qing Jing the peak is named for)), there are lotuses, and on land there are flower shrubs which are either wide-petaled chrysanthemums (gay bottom jokes ahoy), or a type of peony, the king of flowers demarcating wealth and prosperity. Either way, a blossom fitting of our Qing Jing Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu!

My one regret is that I cannot get a clear shot of the fan hanging on the wall to try and translate the calligraphy on it. If anyone can snag one, please tag me! I also couldn't translate the paintings with poems hanging in Shen Qingqiu's bedroom (it's just too small and blurry for my bad eyes to make out). If I make another post attempting these things, I'll append them to this initial post in an edit afterwards.

#svsss #shen qingqiu #liu qingge #i started writing this at 3am #and now it's 8am #what am i doing with my life #who have i become #qing jing peak

[papiliotao]

꒰ 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒎𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒕𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 ✩࿐

pairings: kazuha, scaramouche, and xiao x gn!reader (separate)

content: fluff, actor au, mutual pining, idiots in love (affectionate), kissing

summary: in which you kiss your pretty co-star for a scene of the new drama you’re filming. the twist? he’s head over heels in love with you!

a/n: also, this is very unlikely, but if you’ve seen this before, it’s because i messed up and posted it by accident before editing it one final time.

KAZUHA is a love interest straight out of the most euphoric of dreams and the most fantastical of fairytales. He’s sweet, gentle, and considerate, and each time the cameras start rolling, it almost feels as though nothing has changed. He’s the same charming and thoughtful boy you’ve grown to know and love. The only differences in his demeanor are subtle — hidden in the smallest of actions.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Kazuha asks you as he reads over his lines one last time. “If you have any objections, I can ask someone to revise the script.”

As a renowned actor, Kazuha has a considerable amount of power. If he was more selfish, he would have abused his position. However, he typically never objects to anything the directors tell him to do. He simply follows orders. Unless, of course, you’re uncomfortable with anything.

It’s funny. Whenever Kazuha’s told to do something, he has no complaints. He reminds you of liberating winds — able to blow on and persist in any situation. But when it comes to you, he doesn’t have any problems with telling the director to make subtle changes to scenes.

Somehow he’s even more charming than any love interest in a romance drama could ever be. In fact, working on set with Kazuha already makes you feel like you’re living in a fantasy formed in the mind of a hopeless romantic, so it’s no surprise that you’ve developed a bit of a crush on the sweet boy.

“No, it’s fine,” you answer your co-star. You try to act nonchalant, but in reality, your heart is fluttering like the delicate wings of the iridescent butterflies tickling the pit of your stomach. Every moment with him causes a hurricane of giddiness to well up within you. A kiss scene with Kazuha sounds like a dream come true.

“Alright then. Let’s get started,” the director interrupts your conversation — an exchange he was clearly listening in on. “Places, everyone!”

Both you and Kazuha exchange and glance and then get into position. You enter a house designated for the shooting of your drama while Kazuha stands outside in the warm streetlight. A singular call of “Lights! Camera! Action!” — followed by the beginnings of an artificial storm — are your only cues before the crew begins to film.

The scene starts with the ring of a doorbell. It’s a sound that reverberates in the face of overwhelming silence and melancholy, disturbing the peaceful waters atop an ocean of stillness. The sound summons you to the door, and as you twist and pull on the knob, a shivering figure is revealed. It’s Kazuha.

“Oh, hi,” you say, flawlessly adjusting your tone ever-so-slightly to fit the character you’re portraying. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”

The droplets of rain falling from the false sky are bothersome, but Kazuha covers everything up with a perfect performance.

“Hi,” he whispers breathlessly. His voice is as gentle as ever, and the way he looks at you with eyes overrun with wonder makes your heart flutter. Stars glowing with a light reminiscent of Polaris seem to appear in his irises, beaming at you with adoration that appears just a bit too genuine.

“Why are you here?” you ask him, trying your best to morph your expression into one that conveys disbelief and concern.

“I just… wanted to see you,” the words fall from Kazuha’s lips effortlessly. His tone is warm, a soft blanket wrapping around your heart with the comfort of a thousand spring sunbeams. He’s so incredibly perfect.

“But you didn’t have to show up in the middle of a storm!” you insist.

Kazuha laughs sheepishly.

“I guess I just couldn’t contain myself,” he admits. After a long pause, he speaks again. “To be honest, there’s something I’ve been meaning to say.”

Your breath hitches. Here it comes.

“I’m in love with you,” he finally admits. His crimson eyes burn with a passion that is unmatched, and although they are calmer than aquamarine waters on peaceful summer days, they also hold an intensity akin to the heart of winter’s glacial plagues. Even though his words are scripted, you can’t deny that the beating of your heart begins to pick up.

“You don’t have to say that you love me too,” he adds. “I just wanted you to know.” Kazuha sends a soft smile your way, his features morphing to convey nothing more than pure, everlasting endearment.

You let the silence that follows stretch on for a few seconds before speaking.

“But I do love you.”

Kazuha’s eyes widen, and somehow, his gaze softens even more. For a moment, he stands still, caught in a daze. However, it isn’t long before he recites his next line.

“Then… may I?” he glances at your lips as he speaks, and it’s clear what he means.

You nod. “I want this just as much as you,” you whisper. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long.” Your voice comes out choked, trembling like an autumn leaf fluttering amidst inconstant wind. You mean it, but he’ll never know.

With that, he leans towards you. For a moment, all you can think about is him. His pale skin made cold by the rain, irises that appear as beautiful as lakes filled with the most precious of glimmering rubies, hair fashioned from guiding starlight, and a voice softer than the most touching of nature’s fantasias.

And when his lips meet yours, it’s like fireworks go off in the pit of your stomach, illuminating every bit of your soul with a joy that permeates even the darkest of thoughts. He’s sweet, gentle, considerate, and he treats you like you’re the most delicate thing in the world — as if you could break at any moment. Everything feels so incredibly warm despite the fact that his lips have been cooled by the ongoing storm.

He places his hand on your cheek as the kiss deepens and smiles slightly. It almost feels as though his feelings run deeper. But that’s just a delusion you’re forging in your mind because you’ve fallen for him, right?

Perhaps, but as you pull away and the director ends the scene with a loud “Cut!” Kazuha’s face lingers near yours for a few seconds, his eyes scanning your expression for something entirely unknown to you.

“Let’s do this again sometime,” he whispers in your ear, grinning at you cheekily before he quickly leaves, presumably to check in with his management team.

It takes you a minute to break out of the hazy stupor that Kazuha’s kiss induced, but once you do, you realize the implications of his parting words.

He wants to kiss you again!

SCARAMOUCHE acts indifferent. Apathy runs rampant through every constellation within the galaxies that are his eyes, and a permanent scowl seems to be etched onto his face whenever he’s not being filmed. It’s shocking how different he is when the cameras start rolling.

“Let’s get this over with,” Scaramouche mutters under his breath as he walks by you. The two of you take your places, slipping masks of infatuation onto your faces. Except unbeknownst to you, Scaramouche isn’t quite putting up a façade. The director gives you a cue, and then you’re off.

“Please don’t leave,” Scaramouche whispers, his personality and mannerisms changing up in a complete 180. He’s nothing like himself right now, and no matter how much of a jerk he is when you’re not filming, you have to admit that he’s a skilled actor. The way his voice breaks almost makes you believe that his words are sincere. Almost.

“I don’t have a choice,” you say, delivering the lines you have rehearsed too many times to count. You channel every ounce of raw emotion within you to pull off a touching performance, and it seems to be working. The director hasn’t stopped you yet, and he’s a man with rather harsh standards.

A silence ensues. You look up as practiced, meeting Scaramouche’s gaze. In that moment, you almost break character when you see his eyes. They’re watering. Oceans of grief pool up as he stares at you, looking at you as if he’ll never see you again. Right now, the inky depths of his indigo irises appear more captivating than ever.

Something about his pain feels real, as if he’s experienced the heartbreak that comes with abandonment before. It’s almost as though he’s simply tapping into a facet of himself that he hides. And despite the fact that you don’t always get along with Scaramouche, you feel the urge to hug him and shower him in affection.

“Will you come back?” Scaramouche’s gaze turns wistful as he speaks, his entire expression glittering with hints of hope and light.

“I will,” you say under your breath. “I promise.”

You take a step toward him and caress his cheek, relishing in the softness of his skin as you brush your fingers along his jawline. A light pink dusts his cheeks. If you were less professional, you would have imploded upon seeing his blush. The fact that he can elicit such a response on command is awe-inspiring, and plus, he looks incredibly adorable — nothing like the grouchy Scaramouche you’re used to.

With gentle movements, you take his chin in your hand and glance down at his lips with what you hope is a look of unadulterated passion and admiration. “May I?” you whisper. The softness of your voice surprises even you.

Scaramouche hesitates and then nods shyly — a perfect portrayal of the timid character he’s playing. He’s incredible.

Slowly, you inch toward him, watching as he narrows his eyes and parts his lips slightly. He’s so pretty, and in that moment, you can’t help but admire him. Messy strands of hair reminiscent of nightfall adorn his forehead, and his pale skin is tinted with the subtlest hint of colour.

For a second, as his face is hidden from the camera by the back of your head, he reverts to his typical self. He opens his eyes just a little wider, and exchanges a glance with you. A brief hint of emotion flashes through his irises. You’ve been working with him long enough to know what he’s trying to say. Don’t mess this up.

Things move in slow motion. Time stretches from seconds to millennia, and his expression reverts back to the picture-perfect look of a young man who’s innocently falling into the temptation of blissful love.

And when your lips finally connect in a kiss, you are fully immersed in the delusion of the scene. You wholeheartedly believe that he loves you. From your sentiments stems a warm feeling that bubbles up in the pit of your stomach. It’s soft and ticklish, and it only gets stronger as his lips move against yours.

He sighs into the kiss, and when you open your eyes in order to observe his face, you notice that his own eyes are closed, and he seems completely lost in the moment. At this point, it doesn’t even feel like he’s playing a character anymore. It almost feels as though everything is authentic.

However, when you part, reality hits you like the first snowstorms of winter — harsh, biting, and unrelenting in its pursuit. Scaramouche was only playing his part. Although everything had felt genuine, you know that it was just a mask he put on for the screen.

But as you finish up the scene, you fail to notice the way he walks away with a sunset pink blush tinting his cheeks. He touches his fingers to his lips in a daze and smiles the slightest bit.

“What an idiot,” he scoffs under his breath, but no matter how harsh his tone is, he is unable to conceal the hints of underlying affection in his voice. “Just how long will it take them to notice that I’m not acting?”

XIAO is usually extremely professional, and that’s more or less all you can say about him.

On camera, he is able to act as a charismatic, although slightly shy, love interest, but for whatever reason, things with him just feel so much more awkward when you’re not filming. Most of the time, he tries his best to avoid you as if interacting with you is a scenario straight from his nightmares.

And maybe it is, because on the rare occasions where you manage to catch Xiao off guard and strike up a conversation with him, his responses to your questions are always blunt. But it never really feels like he hates you. It just seems that he’s not the best at socializing.

Things between you are rather awkward, despite the fact that you’re co-stars. So when you’re told that you have to kiss each other for an episode of the drama you’re filming, you feel as though your world is ending.

Sure, Xiao is incredibly attractive with his golden eyes, tinted a colour reminiscent of the sweetest honey; seafoam hair that never fails to remind you of the mystifying ocean; and a pair of pink lips that look impossibly soft. He’s tantalizing, and a kiss with him wouldn’t be so bad — if not for the concerns that flood your troubled mind.

But unfortunately for you, there’s no way to retaliate when the director tells you that the shooting of the scene is about to commence. You just have to go with the flow and hope for the best.

As you pass by Xiao on your way to your places, you whisper a soft “good luck” so that only he can hear you. He nods in acknowledgement, and if your eyes aren’t deceiving you, the slightest smile appears on his face.

You sit down at the edge of a grassy cliff and wait. Meanwhile, you hear the sound of Xiao walking to a spot a short distance away from you. You take a deep breath, getting into character and gazing at the dazzling lights and countless galaxies in the night sky above.

Soon enough, the director calls for you to begin, and the atmosphere falls silent. The only sound you can hear within the stillness is the crunching of leaves under Xiao’s feet. You can’t see him, but you know he’s coming up behind you.

And after a few seconds, the sound of footsteps diminishes into nothingness.

“Hey,” Xiao’s voice rings out from behind you.

As scripted, you ignore him and continue looking ahead as if his presence is insignificant. The grass rustles as he sits down beside you, and in the edges of your vision, you can see him directing his gaze towards you.

“Are you alright?” he asks you.

“I’m fine,” you say, trying your best to emulate a tone that conveys nothing but the utmost irritation.

To your surprise, Xiao flinches slightly. That isn’t part of the script.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something to upset you?” he sounds like he’s on the verge of tears as he questions you.

You shake your head. “I said I’m fine.”

Both you and Xiao allow silence fill the atmosphere for a few moments, adding to the dramatic effect of the scene, before speaking again.

“I don’t believe you,” Xiao says, leaning closer to you to examine your expression.

Somehow, you’re able to remain calm despite the fact that the boy who makes you feel a plethora of emotions as numerous as the stars overhead is so close to you. It’s going surprisingly well so far.

And perhaps that is where you jinx yourself because the events that unfold afterwards are disastrous.

“Why do you even care? I thought you didn’t like me!” you scream.

Xiao jolts, and in that moment, the fear, confusion, and utter dismay flashing across his face act as a testament to his acting skills. He’s extremely talented.

Yet again, the night goes silent before Xiao utters, “I do like you — love you, even.” His words are soft, but you’re sure that the production crew managed to pick them up, and that’s all that matters.

Your entire world stops for a moment.

“I do care about you,” Xiao reiterates, “Because I love you.”

Your mind goes blank. Why do his words feel so real?

It takes a few seconds for you to recover from your shock, but when you do, your voice comes out softer than ever.

“I love you too.”

For a few seconds, you look up to meet Xiao’s gaze, losing yourself in the sunkissed dandelion hues of his irises. He smiles at you, and you smile back. His gaze shifts down to your lips.

“Is it okay if I…?” he trails off, and in addition, you swear that you can feel heat radiating off his cheeks. Is he too shy to finish the sentence?

That seems to be the case because for a split second, all he can do is stare at your lips as though he’s frozen in place. You decide to take matters into your own hands and play it off as intentional.

“Yes,” you whisper quietly. “Kiss me.”

With that, Xiao snaps out of his trance and takes both your cheeks in his hands before inching his lips closer and closer towards yours. The fact that the director hasn’t stopped you yet spurs you on because it means that this take is still salvageable.

Time seems to move in slow motion as the distance between you and Xiao closes. But although it feels like it takes forever, it’s only seconds before your lips meet Xiao’s in a gentle kiss that sends butterflies racing through the pit of your stomach.

The warmth of his skin on yours accelerates the beating of your heart, making you feel almost dizzy as the world around you seems to melt into a jumble of nothingness. All that matters at the moment is the two of you.

But unfortunately, you still have a role to play, so after a few moments of absolute bliss, you pull away from Xiao in order to continue on. However, when you do, you see that under the beams of artificial light that spill from around the set, his face is dusted pink.

“How was it?” you ask, grinning at Xiao. You hope and pray to the archons that he won’t mess anything up.

“I — uhm…” Xiao tries to speak, but all that comes out is a stutter. A stunned silence is all that follows. This is bad.

“Cut!” the director yells, breaking through the tranquility of night. “Xiao, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“Sorry,” Xiao mutters, looking down to conceal the last of the blush on his face.

The director sighs. “You know what this means, right? We’ll have to reshoot that scene, and yes, that means you’ll have to kiss [name] again. Can you handle that?”

You feel Xiao tense up slightly, but to your surprise, he looks up at the director and speaks. “I have no objections. I’ll kiss them as many times as it takes to finish this.” He says the words so eagerly. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have thought that he wanted to kiss you more.

Needless to say, the night ends with countless kisses, each one sweeter than the last as exhaustion melts away the ice caging your hearts. And once and for all, your chemistry onscreen becomes undeniably perfect.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this, please consider commenting or reblogging! It helps a lot.

#r.archives *ೃ༄ #favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #kazuha x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #genshin headcanons #kazuha fluff #scaramouche fluff #xiao fluff

[elaemae]

The premium version of human is here to wreak house, mfs.

Twst x Obey me!AFAB!reader

(Reader is Ob's MC)

CW:

•NO APPEARANCE SPECIFIED FOR READER.

•Poly.

•Cursing.

•Reader is referred to as "you" or they/them and even "he/him" because NRC boys refer to any living humanoid in the school as a male by default.

•Crowley.

•It's my first time writing a fanfiction, pls tell me if I should continue writing this.

(Random pic go brr—)

What will happen when a perpetually hungry-for-cuddles and tired-of-this-shit hooman gets kidnapped by a motherfucking horse and decides (kinda? Yeah nope. This wasn't by choice.) to enroll in a school full of problematic kids and their irresponsible af headmage?

Chaos. Pure and utter chaos with a lot of high-end simping in the mix (Along with the slightly unhinged urge to commit arson and burn a bitch to crisp)

So read as [y/n] tries to run away from the school-life while trying to just get back to their goddamn harem family (God saw this thought and decided that giving y/n more harem members is the appropriate course of action), all while juggling the harsh responsibilities of being a guardian, babysitter, therapist, healer, protector, local crush and celebrity for poor Yuu and the entirety of NRC.

("Pls send help" — y/n)

• • • • •

Disclaimer: You may have been kidnapped to a whole 'nother world and you may be on the verge of a mental breakdown, but you're sure as hell gonna look hot and serve cunt while you go through all your problems.

Prologue: 1

IMPORTANT: Mc will be referred to as they/them in this story, but in these beginning chapters a lot of people will refer to mc as a dude because y'know; NRC is an ALL BOYS school and nrc students came to expect that those in the school are all boys.(this'll change dw)

In order to avoid confusion, every time that the MC is addressed by others as he/him or more; I will color it blue. why blue? I find it easier to read.

Sample; 'He turned to them.'

The "He" in this passage is referring to MC because the character referring to them thinks that they're a guy.

REMINDER: This is Fanfiction! Not everything will be the same as canon because of this thing called the 'butterfly effect'.

• • • •

The Dorm Leaders + lilia were just about to call this Opening Ceremony over.

So close to getting out of this hall and finally being able to go on their merry ways to escort the new students back to their respective dorms before the hectic-ness of preparing for hours starts to catch up to them.

Though, things are never quite that easy in NRC.

A commotion with the students quite far from them leaves the majority of them annoyed/disgruntled. (Kalim is just confused and curious)

The headmaster rushes to check what was wrong only for a student to point out that there is an unopened coffin floating in a shadowy part of the hall.

Armed with the desire to get this shit over with and to avoid embarrassment from missing a coffin when he was going around opening them and also, with Yuu waiting near the mirror, the headmaster opens the coffin to wake the new student inside.

The dorm leaders walked closer to be able to quickly usher the new student to the dark mirror only to notice that the headmaster froze up.

"...Headmaster? Are you alright?" Azul "Boutta-do-sumthin-devious" Ashengrotto asked with faux concern.

"Ah– Ah yes! I'm alright Mr. Ashengrotto."

Crowley the bitch cleared his throat and reached inside the coffin to wake the student up.

"Hmm..."

The dorm leaders subconsciously or not, peaked inside the coffin before getting gobsmacked by the sleeping student.

Sure, the student looked quite cute ("New potential apple locked in" — Vil.) even with half of his face obstructed but what really drew their attention were the jewelries that he was wearing.

Three luxurious looking earrings on each of his ears, all unique from each other, all with a respective color and design except for that one earring with two gemstones engraved in it, orange and indigo. Seven gems, six earrings

An ornament on his forehead that looks to be a combination of a circlet and a Ferronnière made from gold, with intricate black bat-like wings surrounding the red gemstone in the middle.

And that's just the jewelry on his head.

There's also the sleek black choker with a golden sheen on his neck with a teal gemstone surrounded by small diamonds hanging in the middle.

They don't know if this guy has anymore but the jewels they can see for now is more than enough for them to make the deduction that this student has some alot of money on his hands.

No wonder the Headmaster froze up.

Azul subconsciously starts fixing up his appearance when he starts to wake up, wanting to make a good impression on a potential, rich victim client.

• • • •

"Mmh... What the hell.. Why is the bed so hard.."

You mumbled as you stirred, feeling someone lightly shaking you awake.

You opened your eyes, expecting maybe the brothers, solomon, dia, barbs, simeon or luke but you were instead met with a face obscured by a dark bird mask.

"..."

"..."

"You have two seconds to unhand me before you lose your hands." or your life. Depends on who I can summon first.

You made your voice as cold and unwelcoming as possible as the man with the bird mask squawked and backed away a bit in shock.

"H– How rude..! I'll have you know that I was only–"

"Where am I?"

You cut off the weird looking bird-man as you scanned your surroundings and moved to come out of the coffin why were you in a coffin? you were in, in fear of it closing and locking you inside.

You glance warily to the bird-man while keeping an eye on the huge number of robed individuals that you can see. are you in a cult? Damnit, did one of the Brothers' crazy cults decide to kidnap you out of jealousy again??

Especially the seven (reminder that lilia is there with the Housewardens) closest to you and bird-dude.

Some solomon-kinnie motherfucker is currently eyeing you down like he's about to sell your kidneys to the black market or something.. Hmm... Your fight or flight instincts are telling you to sell HIS kidneys instead.

*Ehem*

Burd-dude cleared his throat and addresses you.

"It seems that the teleportation magic has left you disoriented... No matter, I can forgive your offense of trying to threaten me for I am gracious!"

He then looked weirdly like a combination of preening peacock and a proud chicken.

"I repeat. Where in the unholy trinity of the three realms, am I?"

Now that raised a few eyebrows.

You feel for the necklace under your clothes that Thirteen gave you, filing the question of why you're also wearing the same robe as these people away, in your head.

While the guy that you now dub-thee as "bird-bitch" started gawking at you and going on a tangent of being disrespectful, you scan the big hall/room you're in looking for ways to escape.

• • • •

Hmm... This new student seems to be a knowledgeable individual.

Lilia kept his gaze on the student, studying how he took on a defensive stance the moment he got out of the coffin.

They need to calm this student quickly before something happens.

The student seems to be confused on why he's here and is looking for a way to get out.

If the way his eyes moved around the room in quick succession is any indicator.

Not the first time that something like this happens but add in the magicless student's appearance, he gets the feeling that something strange will happen once again.

Seeing him take out and grasp the palm-sized gemstone of a whole 'nother necklace hidden under his robe how many trinkets does this boy have??, Lilia got ready to jump in the fray should something happen.

There's a possibility that the student can use that necklace as a weapon if that was what he chose to hold in this situation and not his other shiny ornaments.

Lilia was proven right when the necklace and the gemstone glowed and formed into a fancy-looking staff that the student quickly pointed towards Crowley.

He looked at the dorm leaders around him to see if any of them will do something.

...

yeah no. If anything, they look like they're watching an amusing show. Especially Schoenheit and Kingscholar..

Though it seems more like Riddle is still assessing the situation before he brings out his infamous collar.

Haahh.. Youngsters these days..

Chapter list | → PROLOGUE 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

Elae: Sorry if my grammar is off, English isn't my first language.

Btw, Thanks for reading this far! Hope you enjoyed it😊

Srry if my format is also off, I've only been using tumblr for a few days now...

MOST IMPORTANTLY; Should I continue reading this fanfic? I wanna know if people still read Obey mexTwst stories here...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me levi x reader #polyamory #obey me satan x reader #x reader #obey me asmo x reader #obey me beel x reader #obey me belphagor x reader #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me solomon x reader #Twst #obey me x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x obey me #Twisted wonderland x obey me #Should I continue this? #Help🥹 #obey me simeon x reader #obey me thirteen x reader #obey me mephisto x mc #obey me x mc