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kaiser-author-san-iii · 2 months

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Star Light, Star Bright | Fatui Harbingers x (Fem) Creator!Reader

A/N: okay okay. I'm very sorry for this overdue chapter. I've been busy farming for primogems and playing Stardew Valley. I have joined many other fandoms, especially with the release of the Spider-Man Across the Spiderverse movie, and have been collecting the comics. Sue me /j. I have a lot of stories that need updating haha. But anyway, thank you so much for the support you guys have given me. It's fantastic! I'll be sure to continue with the updates whenever possible! Any questions, please DM. Any suggestions, DM me!

Summary: Caring for children is hard, but it's especially harder when around the Fatui. Getting isekaied was the last thing on your mind after landing in the icy tundra of Snezhnaya all while your nephew is with you. What will happen when you encounter not only the Fatui Skirmishers but the Fatui Harbingers?

Tags/Warnings: female reader, Creator!reader, Cult Au, contains spoilers of the Archon Quests and World Quests (read at your own risk)

Not edited or beta read, we die like Signora

Chapter 3 | To Be Aware and Be Prepared

<<<First <<<Last Next>>>

MASTERLIST

OPERA EPICLESE, FONTAINE

It had started as a normal day. As normal as it could possibly get with the centrism of Lady Furina and the citizens of Fontaine. There was a pause before it then burst. At first, it was seemingly unnoticeable, but then the forests and the landscape became livelier. It seemed brighter and adventurers saw a decrease in Hilichurls, and slimes, and even the Abyss Order stopped whatever they were doing to... dance? It was certainly a strange sight, but at least there was less activity where civilians were being harmed. In fact, this was being seen all around Teyvat thanks to the Adventure's Guild insight and informing each nation's current ruling governments and Archons.

The archons themselves felt a different presence. A presence they have felt once upon a time ago. The same could be said with a certain Court Judge of Fontaine, a certain fellow dressed in blue, his long platinum blond hair and stoic expressions, he definitely felt a power he thought wouldn't be seen again in all of Fontaine.

A being almost as old as Teyvat themselves, but nowhere as powerful as the one that gave them life.

Before he could even make a decision as tremendous as the one all nations must follow, he needed more information.

He needed to send out anyone to locate their Beloved Creator.

Neuvilette felt to go himself and search for Them, but he had his duties. He simply couldn't abandon them. He is a powerful figure in Fontaine and everyone would be suspicious of his actions if he were to leave his office. They would be asking questions.

No.

This needed to be done in an orderly fashion.

If they were indeed in Teyvat, they would appreciate a calm and happy welcome instead of chaotic and frantic for their faithful followers.

Himself included as he needed to prove he, and Fontaine, would welcome Them with open hearts.

The Divine Creator... has finally descended onto Teyvat once again.

---

LIYUE HARBOR, LIYUE

The trembling of the mountains. The color in front of him wherever he faced. The weather the past few days was beautiful and the people, especially merchants who traveled through treacherous waters to make it to Liyue were grateful for calm waters.

But he knew of the reason why everything seemed so... calm, so perfect as if Teyvat themselves was behaving its absolute best. Especially with word from other nations that the monsters and even the Abyss Order had ceased their attacks on villages and cities. They had seen these beings celebrate nonstop and were quite stumped about what was happening. But the former Geo Archon knew all too well...

Zhongli, better known as Morax or Rex Lapis, had felt it within the very rocks around him. As a devout believer and follower of the Divine Creator, he was quite familiar with the power and aura They possessed.

It's said that the Sovereign Dragons were the very first to proclaim their loyalty to the Divine Creator and when their time of rule ended, the Archons and Gods followed in their footsteps. As an Adepti in the form of a great Dragon, or Exuvia, he would be loyal to his beloved Creator, a form he greatly prided in thanks to the words of the Divine Creator many centuries ago.

But now they were here.

They have descended at long last like they promised.

His many years of patience and loyalty were finally being rewarded with the very presence of They themselves.

Zhongli, the devout follower he is, must find them. Were they alright? Yes, they were an all-powerful being, but recalling correctly, even the mighty have weaknesses and with the importance of the Divine Creator, there's always a danger no matter how beloved you are. He had to go himself to find him.

No.

He could ask the other Adepti to relentlessly search through all of Liyue, to leave no rock unturned and locate where their Grace may be.

---

ZAPOLYARNY PALACE, SNEZHNAYA

The days have gotten warmer and brighter in Snezhnaya.

What with the presence of the Divine Creator that is. It was all that the Fatui and even the citizens of Snezhnaya were talking about. There was nonstop activity in the palace as everyone scrambled to perfect it all for the Divine Creator.

You.

Though it wasn't as overwhelming since your nephew was right beside you, who happily took everything with stride and awe.

He even became attached to the very people that he spoke with on the first day here. And there was no way to separate them or to even have the heart to tell him not to speak with them since he took after his parents and family. Stubborn little nugget.

He especially favored Childe and Scaramouche. He was quite heartbroken when he left and never came back. But, he has been receiving gifts 'anonymously' once in a while.

Meanwhile, you spoke more with the rest to know more about this world. They all unanimously agreed that the mortal body you and your nephew both have currently is due to the fact of the long absence from Teyvat you had. Since your nephew hasn't set foot in Teyvat until now, it might take him longer to adjust to his birthright powers and titles. But he was nonetheless Heir of Teyvat.

The Little Prince.

"They're working really hard, aren't they?" His voice echoed in the halls as you and him were on their way to play outside yet again. He was still a child and with no video games around, it was good for him to be active. Childe once made comment about how strong he was and what a potential warrior your nephew could be with proper training. However, you had the last say and it was not yet time to think about that.

Snezhnaya is still a cold nation so even with Teyvat making it slightly less cold, you and your nephew had to bundle up. This is where Pantalone's gifts came in handy. While you were still bedridden due to your injuries, he called in all the tailors of Teyvat to create a wardrobe fit for you and your nephew: The Divine Creator and the Heir of Teyvat.

It was a sight to behold all the boxes and bags that arrived at the palace - clothing made from rare beasts and cloth. All for you and your nephew.

"If there's one thing you don't question about other people, Nugget. It's their beliefs. It has a certain power that a lot of people have yet to understand." You commented, stopping to adjust his personal Harbinger Coat. It was one of the few items Pantalone commissioned - with the Heir of Teyvat present, might as well commission a child-sized Harbinger Coat.

"I think Mister Pierro and Mister Pulcinella said something about that. I don't know... it's not our birthdays though. We're just people, aren't we?"

"I'm not certain either. We're a long way from home and it might be a while before we can go back. But don't worry, we're together and that's all that matters. All we have to do is-"

"Go with the flow?"

"Ah. I taught you so well." You laughed, quickly moving to playfully pinch his cheeks before resuming your brief walk outside. Everyone else had their duties and you didn't want to disturb them. They all seemed to be important in the political and military worlds.

That was something that kinda threw you off. Something like this world seemed like in the past. Like maybe 1800's innovative past since there were snipers and even giant mechanical machines that can move on their own or by being piloted. It was definitely fantasy - like a dream.

But even in a fantasy world, with aspects aimed at child entertainment, there is danger. Arlecchino and Columbina were telling you all about it with a brief history lesson and a bit of current information about Teyvat today. It was definitely something to think about if you plan to travel Teyvat with or without the Harbingers, especially with your nephew.

"Your Grace. What a pleasant surprise." The voice was ahead and looking up, you could see the masked man, the Doctor. Dottore was the one who ended up healing you from your injuries from the accident. They never did find the person responsible for your accident. Though they never will.

The healing process went smoothly and tended to you alongside your nephew.

"My nephew wanted to play outside again. He saw everyone was occupied and didn't wish to intrude so we thought we could walk for a bit."

"The Heir has no worries. If he or your Grace has a request, we're bound to stop and fulfill your wishes."

Your nephew didn't need to be told twice and quickly marched his way over to the blue-haired man, took his hand, and started walking to the exit to face another cold day.

"Doctor, please play with Auntie and I."

Dottore was quite the character. The others filled you in on what they have done and their opinions of each other. Dottore was the one with the most negative background but no one could deny the intelligence or genius in his mind. But to think this wasn't even his true form. The man was quite the genius that he made a number of clones of himself of each stage of his life. As a scientist, as a pursuer of knowledge, even the kind that's better left alone, he thirsted for it.

"Of course, Your Highness. Your Grace, would it be troubling to accompany you two?"

He also performed...some experiments that in this world were unethical, from what you heard. But...they weren't the worst. No, there was definitely worse. You weren't justifying what he had done, you weren't one to stand on a higher moral ground than anyone else, you at least attempted to understand why. That is exactly what you concluded when you decided to speak and interact with Dottore.

"Not at all. My nephew has grown attached to you and the others."

The walk outside didn't take long. It was short and slow to appreciate the snowfall and the area around. Various Cryo Crystalflies quickly flew their way to your nephew and he gave chase all while a variety of animals appeared and decided to play with the Heir. Teyvat knew the little Prince's love for animals. You made sure he didn't stray too far, your eyes never leaving his form while Dottore kept the same pace as you, taking a few glimpses at you every now and then. There was a small silence - but it was comfortable.

"Why?" You broke the silence and Dottore turned his head, his mask hiding any expression he could have made.

"Pardon?"

"The Fatui. Why was it formed? I want the truth." Your eyes still focused on your nephew who danced along with the Crystalflies, laughing and happily throwing snow in the air before then falling and making snow angels.

Your reason for asking is with who you two have been identified as, and with a seemingly unknown way of going back home, you two will probably be dragged into this world's politics. Before you get involved, you have to see what it is all about. Would it be worth it? Are you currently with evil people? Misunderstood people? What is their goal?

Would it be dangerous to involve your nephew?

"There is quite a lot that a mere moment is not enough to disclose the Tsaristas and our organization's goal."

"Then I shall listen. I hear talk and before I pass 'judgment', I want to understand. I hear talk of other gods, but the mere mention of them besides the Tsarista, it's with contempt."

Dottore, like many of his colleagues and subordinates, has heard the stories, the creation of Teyvat that was retold by the very dragons they created and had them oversee Teyvat. And then Celestia arrived. They had become power-hungry, drunk from the love and attention the Divine Creator gave to them before. When the creator left, Celestia took over and everything changed. Teyvat became different, peace wasn't an option.

Wars started, innocents perished...

Nations demolished.

"The Tsarista fell in love with the idea of how Teyvat was before you left. A Teyvat where all lived in peace. Then Celestia came. Thousands of years ago, they proclaimed that seven gods would be chosen to rule over one of the seven nations. From the thousands of Gods that fought, along with mortals who fought to survive another day, Seven were indeed chosen to represent their following element. But even for Celestia that was not enough. Your Grace was fond of a nation, Khan'ri'ah. Khan'ri'ah was a nation that ruled without the intervention of a God, an Archon. So.. one day, Celestia proclaimed Khan'ri'ah to be sinners, a nation that went against the Divine Creator and was thus destroyed. The Tsarista understood, her eyes opened to what was being done, and isolated herself, to find people who shared her opinions on Celestia and the Divine besides you, Your Grace."

That was just a brief summary that you recreated after your talk with Dottore. He was quite honest and with a few words, you were able to piece together everything. And to think he was kicked out of the Akademiya because of his practices and the murder of a fellow scholar.

This was clearly a case of the black-white-gray morality.

Things aren't always what they seem.

"Several weeks ago, I thought I was human. A mortal who lived a mundane life who loves her nephew like her own. I'm here and I'm told I'm the God that created your world, but I somehow have no recollection of it."

The walk continued as your nephew seemed to head further away from you and Dottore. Dottore was listening. He knew you weren't done talking and he couldn't wait to hear. Would he hear criticism of the divine from the very being who created it in the first place? What kind of wisdom would she bestow that may rival the God of Wisdom herself.

"Pierro and the Tsarista mentioned that my memories of such events and my divinity would come back to me slowly. Especially for my nephew. He's still young, curious but young."

"Your Grace, you need not fear. The Fatui, us, the Harbingers, will be by your side for we and The Tsarista are loyal to no other than you and the Heir."

"But what if I am not who you think I am?" You asked, looking down at your arms, remembering the injuries and the blood that oozed. You remembered the color and thought it wasn't proof enough, but the gold blood was there. You even requested to see the bloodied gauze that had a clear gold color. The sparkle it held, the amount of power that it had.

"Highly unlikely. Every man, woman, and child knows firsthand that the Divine Creator's blood is unlike any living being in Teyvat. Eyewitnesses from your first time here have written quite a bit of information of you. There is no mistake. The Tsarista would have been the first to know."

"Auntie! Doctor! Look!" Your nephew shouted and quickly ran to you, the heavy atmosphere dissipating as your nephew smiled, his hands cupped to hide what it was that he was bound to show you two. Slowly, he opened his hands and a small light blue glow appeared and in the blink of an eye, a small Cryo Crystalfly appeared and took flight, joining the other Cryo crystalflies that surrounded the three.

Creation of new life.

A power only found in the Divine.

What kind of world did she find herself in?

TAGLIST:

@lizzhearthz, @yoshikuno, @anonclyde, @khalhaimdad, @ellenoir

@yunsblog030, @lsleepysimpl, @potol0ver, @kitty-chan33, @nasidibakar, @yoriichi-second-wife, @lilybythevalley, @esthelily, @liansh3ng, @bubbles-lounge, @chidouna, @okecaiditmemay, @angelofdarkness2, @emmbny, @vxsire, @mmeatt, @fybfjn, @nickey-diano, @reende-29,

If I missed anyone, let me know! I tried tagging some people, but tumblr must be weird. I probably will be posting this on Ao3 too. Thank you so much for your kind words, everyone! I hope to write more!

#genshin impact #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #Genshin impact cult au #fatui harbingers #fatui x reader #dottore x reader #pierro x reader #pantalone x reader #sagau cult au #sagau reader

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circeius-invidioso · 1 month

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I do not get why the Red Corsairs are not a popular choice.

Like.

Like here is the elevator pitch for the warband and then we can come to some justified conclusion.

What isn't there to love?

You want me to turn into an infomencial and make a top 3 reasons why the Red Corsairs are great?

Cause I can.

And I will.

The Diverse Working Enviroment

Here in the Red Corsairs we might have started as Ultramarines but the barrier for entry is on the floor. So anyone can join.

You are Night Lord with a bad rep and no ship.

Buckle up we got you covered.

You are a Fallen and have 20 Dark Angels all up in yo business? Trying to shoot down the boss babe you are?

Fear not, or in our case. Know no Fear. We are strapped and don't get clapped.

You are a traitor that likes their Legion but sadly you got in our way?

Tough luck buddy, you will join or die and your geene seed will join our cause. Nothing personal battle brother. Just business as usual.

Everyone is welcome as long as they follow Huron's guidelines and don't aggitate the topless sweaty Khorne worshipping Ultramarines in the basement.

Sustainability

Unlike the corrupt Imperium of man and the corpse Emperor our leader is powered by miracles (which is trully a miracle how he survived but that on the next section), and we use 0 psyckers to power our crap.

Our carbon footprint is also minimum as we use salvaged goods and don't indulge in toxic industries that destroy worlds.

The Red Corsair base of operation is in the Eye of Terror and from there we expand our scope. A place greatly known for its constant shifts, and horrible conditions but the tan our serfs have are spectacullar from all that cosmic radiation.

Finally we are commited to recycling. As in we take from our victims benefactors and put those stolen goods to some great use. Nothing goes to waste, neither mortal, nor static object. If something is not nailed on the floor we will take it.

In fact we might take the floor too and the nails used to set it in place.

Nothing goes to waste!

Unmatched Leadership

Last, but certainly not least.

The man.

The myth.

The Legend.

Huron Blackheart.

Aka Lufgt Huron.

Aka what would happen if we gave a compressed Guilliman a daemonic familiar and left him to ferment in a warp storm.

Not only the name is so edgy you might cut yourself by saying it out loud. But also it's complex enough that if you say it quickly three times without twisting your tongue theres is a chance furniture might start levitating.

The man has put his Ultramarine brain to use and amased enough influence and power to put the Black Legion to shame.

Huron went from 0 to 100 in no time, he is a self made Warmaster. With no daddy issues or troubles in the world, he goes into battle blasting Alestorm in the voxxcasters.

He does not care.

He probably wears this when he wants to relax.

You think he cares?

He does not care.

He has a biker gang specifically organized to hunt down those who have betrayed him.

They slap those things on their armors not for the usual biker reason

(which fun fact the meaning is, 99% of the bikers are law-abiding, where the 1% are not. That's where the 1% comes from. The more you know 🌈)

no they wear that 1% because that's how high are your chances of escaping from them are.

Is that a bit extreme?

Yes.

You think he cares?

He does not care.

The dude once gathered his buddies and decided...

to you know. Have a casual outing. Nothing too serious, it was a sunday afteral.

So they decided on.

Kidnapping Guilliman.

Which they almost did if not for a Fallen of all people getting in the way.

But still.

The mad lad took Macragge's Honour and went on a joyride/ mini civil war.

Who in the galaxy can turn and say.

Yeah, I stole Macragge's Honour, almost captured my old Primarch. Told a daemon prince they are irrelevant on my way there. Anyway after crushing a fool who thought he could take my crown as king of the space pirates, I went to the home planet of the White Scars and kidnapped and tortured their Chapter Master. What did you do this week? 💅

Who wouldn't want to be a part of that?

You tell me I can be an immortal, gorgeous chaos Ultramarine goth boy going on pirate adventures across the galaxy?

Where do I sign up?

I don't need ink for a signature.

I will use my own blood.

#warhammer #warhammer 40000 #warhammer 40k #wh40k #shitpost #red corsairs #chaos ultramarines #chaos space marines #games workshop #black library #huron is the chaos ultramarines representation we deserve

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flowence-writing · 5 months

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johanna finding out reader sh? 🤔 i'm in desperate need of johanna fanfics 😓

two broken people - j.m.

summary: johanna finds out that you aren’t as ok as you seem.

pairings: johanna x fem!reader

warnings: self harm, depression, suicidal ideation, angst, hurt/comfort

author’s note: if anyone is struggling with these issues, please do not hesitate to reach out to me. you are not alone.

You wondered why you were alive, why you survived. Your hands bloodied with the blood of many. You don’t want to keep living. You don’t deserve it. The hopelessness grips onto your bones, settling deep within your soul. Everything is numb, yet you still smile your fake smile, you still laugh that fake laugh. It didn’t matter how many people you were always around, the inexcusable feeling of being lonely weighs down on your chest.

Johanna has noticed something different about you, but you cannot seem to bring yourself to care. You can’t seem to keep up the act.

After training you were exhausted, mentally and physically. You quickly darted out of the training area, speed walking to Johanna and yours room. When arriving at the room you quietly closed the door, going towards your stash of razors you picked out the sharpest one.

[i tried it like before and this time i made a deep cut]

You rolled up your sleeves, not even wincing at the way they stuck to your past wounds. You took a deep inhale, pressing the razor hard against your skin before you exhaled and drove it deep into your flesh watching as the blood oozes out.

[i thought about my friends and the way i didnt give enough]

Distantly, you should’ve known it would’ve been too deep. The blood starts to ooze out in a faster yet still somewhat sluggish pace, you feel dizzy and lightheaded. Vaguely you thought you didn’t really want to die.

[and i shouldve told my mother, “mom, i love you,” like a good son]

You stumbled into your desk, before you could think much about it you cut even deeper on your other wrist. A smile mixed with relief and remorse carved its way onto your features. You hear the door open, but you can’t really focus on anything but going to lay down.

[but this life is overwhelming and im ready for the next one]

“Y/N! Oh god… what did you do?!” Johanna yelps, running to you immediately. You can barely make out the words she’s saying. All you can think about, is how you’ll finally be free.

[take the blade away from me]

“Let me go…” You whisper, your voice sounds weak and slurred.

[i am a freak, i am afraid that]

Johanna shakes her head, “No! You promised… you promised me.” she says, desperately.

[all the blood escaping me won’t end the pain]

Johanna desperately screams for help, you vaguely see Katniss run in, the shock and despair on her face is heartbreaking.

[and i’ll be haunting all the lives that cared for me]

You can’t seem to get your eyes to stay open, you can hear Johanna screaming, crying, and sobbing, yet you can’t bring yourself to stay awake.

You woke with a start, looking around you you see that you’re in medical. You clench your teeth. Looking down you see the bandages on your wrists and … tears start streaming down your cheeks.

“Y/N? it’ll be ok. i’m here,” You sob even harder at your girlfriends words.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” You sob into her shoulder, gripping onto her shirt like its your lifeline, and it very well could be.

At least, at least you have Johanna. Two broken people trying to love, trying to heal.

#johanna mason x reader #johanna mason #johanna mason x fem!reader #self insert #tw sh related #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games

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strawberrystepmom · 6 days

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pairing: Toshinori Yagi x F!Reader -> Mirio Togata x F!Reader

word count: 7.8k

contents: Canon divergence for final war arc and beyond, friends to lovers with history, reader has a defined quirk (magnetism) and is a support equipment safety consultant, reader is 29 and Mirio is 30, appearances from other heroes (Deku & Bakugou and they are married, in their 20's)

cw: major character death and discussions of aspects of caretaking for someone at the end of their life, discussions of loss and grief

notes: This idea could not have come to fruition without my most beloved @izvmimi and @bakvrue so thank you to them for always being the very best. I have really been having a Mirioaissance lately and as you all know I love Mr. Might so here goes. Hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading ♡ | crossposted to ao3

“I’m dying.”

Mirio Togata nearly chokes mid-swallow, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth to prevent droplets of tea from seeping out of his lips. It’s a rare Wednesday day off for Lemillion and sunlight pours into the expansive room used as an office at. He’s a guest in the home of one of the most prolific heroes of all time, as he often is, though today he was invited by the man himself instead of showing up to pop in and say hello.

All Might, Toshinori Yagi, is dying.

Technically he has been for years though hearing it from the man’s own mouth feels different than the vague conversations about ‘terminal’ and ‘incompatible organs’.

“No,” the younger man starts but Toshinori raises a hand to stop him, shaking his head with a chuckle.

It’s no secret he has been rapidly looking more and more frail as autumn faded into winter which is now melting into the bright green of spring.

“It’s true. No matter how many times you tell me ‘you can get better’ or ‘medical technology is improving’ it will not change the fact that my time has a finite number on it.”

There has been a finite amount of his life remaining for a very long time, he’s simply managed to dodge it for as long as possible. Running away from the truth is no longer an option, the years he has been given since the War and its finish already leaving the man feeling like a perpetual cheat. He was supposed to die then, and then after that, and then again and again and again…

There are no more ducks and dodges left in him.

“Midoriya knows and has accepted it. It’s time for you to do the same.”

The words would be harsh coming from anyone other than a beloved mentor turned friend though Yagi has always had the natural ability to soften blows when necessary. Mirio nods, blue eyes trained toward the ground and refusing to meet those of the man in the comfortable chair next to him. He dares to take a peek at the man who will forever be known as All Might, the thinness of his hands and arms and wrists alone a surprising sight. Time has run out. No medical science or quirk or act of God can reverse the inevitable. A transplant cannot save him, medicine will not save him, and he’s made the decision to be as comfortable as possible over the remaining weeks to months he has left.

Togata’s mind unconsciously drifts to you in all of this. You are the young woman who has devoted the latter half of her twenties to taking care of this iconic man, tending to his illnesses and the complications from them with a smile and a joke, a reassuring hand on his shoulder and a kiss on his forehead. The younger of the pair has witnessed this kindness himself on more than one occasion and he remembers when you were simply a Support course student at UA high school a year younger than Mirio himself. You assisted with equipment in the war and it has followed you through your adulthood, your support item safety consulting business thriving and helping build a safer world.

The way you care about everyone is so admirable, it’s difficult not to view you as a hero in all of this. Mirio raises a brow and balls his hands together into a fist, letting it rest in his lap.

“How does she feel about, well, everything?”

It’s a daring question to ask given the older man is well aware of the younger man’s affection toward you no matter how discreet he thinks he is about it. It’s the perpetual elephant in the room. Toshinori sighs, shifting in his chair and positioning his hands in his lap. Mirio’s eyes dart from them and toward the older man’s sallow face, noting the hint of a smile at the mention of you.

“She was the first person to know. It’s the least I could give her for wasting her youth on a sorry old man like me.”

Togata offers a tight smile and tilts his head to the side. The self deprecation isn’t anything new, it has been like this the last several years, though it never sits well when the man he has attempted to pattern his own morals over says something so blasphemous about himself.

“That’s a pretty downer way to look at things, All Might.”

This gets a chuckle from the older man, the sound of his head shaking against the back of his chair causing the younger one to look up at him curiously.

“It’s a pretty downer thing to die but telling you it’s coming isn’t the only reason I asked you here today.”

The older man clears his throat, wiping his thumb against his bottom lip and looking away, joining his hand in his lap. How can he properly phrase what he’s asking his young friend to do without it seeming sordid and disrespectful? He’s leaving you his legacy when he goes. His home, his royalties that will keep you well taken care of for the rest of your life and, well, he’s planning on leaving Mirio Togata the one gift he deserves the most - you.

He simply lays the plot down, hands still folded in his lap.

“How long have you loved her, kid?”

Mirio feigns shock that his mentor, the one who came after the one he lost years ago, is onto him. He has always played off his affection for you as friendliness and lingering glances as simply curiosity and assumed he has been doing it well enough that nobody notices.

“It’s not like that.”

Toshinori laughs, a weak cough wracking his body and he raises his fist to his grinning mouth to cover it. Mirio leans forward in his seat, reaching for the man who waves him off and instead leans to grab the bottle of hand sanitizer on the desk next to him.

“You are a grown man, Togata. Own up to it. It’s not going to offend me.”

There was no expectation of a trip down memory lane set for the younger man prior to arriving for this visit yet his mind launches into years of fuzzy and undefined memories. Evenings he’d come to visit you in the Support course workshop when he was younger with fewer scars covering his arms and torso, the few times in your early twenties you sat thigh to thigh with him in dimly lit izakaya hanging out with your mutual group of friends and their respective partners who are also heroes. He remembers too much and too little at the same time, skin crawling.

Shifting in his seat, he unclasps his hands and claps them against his thighs.

“A long, long time.” He finally responds and Toshinori chuckles in response, leaning back in his own chair and sliding one of his hands out toward Mirio. “Since I was in high school.”

The truth doesn’t hide forever. It makes him feel childish that he was so easily caught by the older man, replaying years of interactions in his head. Did he smile a little too wide at you? Glance a little too long? Pine a little too openly?

There is no way for him to change anything that has happened before now and the usually easy going man tensely lifts his head, meeting Toshinori’s soft gaze. There is no anger even if these events crossed boundaries, something the man is infinitely grateful for, and he reaches across the desk to take his mentor’s offered hand.

“I know.” He weakly squeezes the younger man’s hand, his lack of strength more evident than ever. Mirio feels emotion welling up inside of him and blinks it back, taking a deep breath. “That’s why I am asking you to give her the life I never could, Togata. Take her traveling when you can. Remind her that she’s brilliant and will probably keep this country safer than any hero ever could. Just…be there for her. For me.”

The request carries more weight than the older man could ever possibly understand. It’s not merely a responsibility but a strange kind of bequeathing. No formal paperwork, no meetings with officials, just two men discussing a woman they both care about deeply and how to best assuage her in the sorrows to come.

It also brings another question to Mirio’s mind he has contemplated for many years - do you have lingering feelings for him too? A far younger version of you, magnetism quirk engaged and using it to make him laugh, certainly did. He assumed those feelings just vaporized over time and with responsibility, your heart belonged to another man before he could ever ask that it be his.

A noble man. A good man who you did not want to see live lonely, by himself in his ailing years. A man Togata spent his entire life trying to emulate.

There’s a flutter of hope through the sorrow of knowing the end is coming for his friend and the younger man is the one to squeeze the older mans’ this time, gentle firm pressure to ensure it doesn’t hurt.

“I know it’s a big request. I don’t blame you if it makes you uncomfortable or if you’d like to say no,” Toshinori adds quickly. “I simply know that she cares about you a lot and always has.” His voice cracks and he swallows his sadness, only grateful that his life has been so glorious the last few years thanks to your gentle touch and your silly stories and your tendency to ad-lib songs to make him smile. “She deserves to be happy.”

The younger man couldn’t agree more. He nods, emotion continuing to rise, breaking eye contact to gaze down at his lap to allow him a moment to compose himself. For his entire twenties, he regretted losing his chance with you despite his gratefulness for the care and love you gave Toshinori. Now, entering his thirties, he gets the opportunity to try again. To speak up when he should and to put the feelings he has harbored for more than a decade to good use.

“I will do everything I can to make sure she is, you have my word.”

Even if it means you want nothing to do with him and keep yourself away from everyone forever. Whatever makes you happy, Mirio Togata will make sure you have it.

“I only have weeks. Months if I’m lucky but I don’t think I’m all that lucky anymore.”

The words make Mirio look up from his lap, brows furrowed. He didn’t think there was so little time left but he is a man of action and nods.

“Then let’s make these next few weeks memorable. What do you need me to do?”

A chuckle from the older man as he finally drops the younger one’s hand gently, tucking it back into his lap to join the other.

“For now, just be around if you can make it work.”

That he can do and he does for three more weeks.

On a warm spring day, a little past the end of cherry blossom season, the world loses All Might.

‘The days I spent with you were the happiest of my life. Let me take care of you for the rest of yours. - Toshinori’

The note he left you, the one you were handed by some man in a suit you’d never met before in the days following his death, rests on your desk. It feels too soon to tuck away the increasingly wrinkled piece of paper and you’re far too grateful for the life he has put between your two palms to stop glancing at the note every few hours each day.

It doesn’t answer any of the questions you have about what becomes of your life now though.

Emotion wells up in you again, a lump in your throat you have to swallow down to continue working, the results from your audit of the Dynamite agency’s safety audit on the screen of the tablet in front of you. They’re generally highly rated, Bakugou’s fastidious tendencies seeping through even the smallest detail of safety and care of his employees, but you have to look away. You close the screen cover and slide the device aside, standing up from your spot at the kitchen table to walk into the living room.

The house feels like a mausoleum even if it’s now yours and yours only. Being alone for the first time in weeks leaves a strange taste in your mouth and you fold your arms over your chest, padding across the wooden floors to plop down on the overstuffed couch you picked out three years ago. Deku’s wife spent a week by your side, the first seven days after the tremendous loss ensuring you ate and slept, sleeping in your bed with you and letting you cry on her shoulder. The day she went home hurt almost as badly as the day you lost the man himself, the encroaching loneliness feeling claustrophobic.

Thankfully, the second week was dotted with various visitors, your former classmates and long time friends of Toshinori paying their respects posthumously by being good to you in his departure. Dynamite’s wife tended to you and forced you out of your house, inviting you over with the promise of visiting with her eager to see you children.

The third week was much of the same, even chatting with his old friend David and accepting condolences from other heroes former and current. Your refrigerator stayed full, your mailbox overstuffed with more cards than you could open wishing you well and thanking you for taking care of him.

The fourth fewer people came but you still stayed busy. The fifth, same. The sixth, seventh, and eighth all followed suit although the amount of visitors thinned. Ninth, tenth, eleventh your house became empty outside of your close friends and Mirio. Now you are twelve weeks past his death and facing down a lifetime of uncertainty in a house that feels too large for you but too small for your pain.

Your heart swells recalling the love you’ve been given but it shrivels when you look around, wondering when it will start to feel full of life again; when you will.

Standing, you lumber over to the wall adjacent to where you sit, admiring the artwork and memories on the wall. There are photos of a freckle-faced teenager who became a freckle-faced man with his wife and children alongside Toshinori. Photos of Mirio grinning and giving a thumbs up in a vintage American All Might t-shirt that was almost too small for him. Photos of you and Toshinori smiling side by side when he was still well enough to attend the occasional event, you in glittering floor length sequins and him in a custom suit built to accommodate his ever weakening body.

Sighing, you reach out and brush your thumb along the frame. The photo doesn’t move, anchored into the wall, and you know that all of the care you gave him wasn’t wasted for a moment. He truly made your life better and you believe you did the same for him, though your eyes flit back to the photo of Mirio for a moment.

You took the picture a few years back while cleaning out the spare bedroom used solely for merchandise and collectables Toshinori had been given over the years. You accosted the younger blonde for pulling a shirt that was clearly too small for him over his head but snapped the photo anyway, grinning behind your phone at his silly posing.

Mirio.

He has been here for you almost as much as your closest friends, popping by daily if able with food or stories or just…sunshine, which is exactly what he is and always has been for the time you’ve known him. Even when the two of you were back in high school he knew your favorite candy and delivered it to your desk daily while spending his evenings sticking paper clips to your arm or the side of your face while your quirk was engaged.

Reaching into your pocket, you grab out your phone and dial his number. He answers before the first ring can even finish its trill.

“Hey-o, what are you doing?”

You giggle at his greeting though he hears the strain in your voice that indicates you are feeling down. He tucks his phone between his shoulder and ear, pulling his sweatpants on in the changing room of the agency, ready to head home.

“Nothing. I tried to work a little bit today and couldn’t focus. I’m sure Bakugou will bitch at me but his audit will simply have to wait another week.”

The man on the other end of the phone chuckles, rising to his full impressive stature and heading toward the exit.

“Do you need a distraction? I could come over.”

The offer is appreciated but you wrestle with how to respond to it. What you assumed were long forgotten feelings for Mirio surface every time you are around him and in your grief and confusion, you struggle to separate them from reality and what’s a balm to make you feel temporarily better. Would seeing him now, only three months removed from losing Toshinori, be appropriate? Is it what’s best?

“You don’t have to, I’m sure it was a long day.”

Togata scoffs, using his coded keycard to exit the building. The sun is still somewhat up, a hot summer evening encroaching and he does not want to go home when he could be spending time with you. The day exhausted him a bit, lots of petty crime picks up during the summertime, but he’s never too tired for you.

“Actually, this was the easiest shift I’ve had in a long time.” He’s lying and you can tell by the lilt in his voice, a particular tone he takes when he’s pretending everything is fine you’ve heard before but you are in no condition to press the issue. “I can pick you up in about thirty minutes and we can just drive if you want?”

You shake your head although he can’t see it. Part of you wants to say no, to rebuff your own feelings once and for all, but you’re weak and hurting and needy.

“We don’t have to go anywhere, we can just stay here if you want to come.”

And come he does, in that promised thirty minutes. He doesn’t bother to knock on the door anymore, punching in the code and announcing himself with a boisterous smile, then plopping down on the couch next to you.

It feels a lot more like coming home than it reasonably should but every time he feels guilty for envisioning his place in his life, next to you, he remembers the promise he made. He will make you happy no matter what that looks like.

Time passes so quickly when he’s around and it’s welcome to have something besides your own loneliness to listen to while he explains one of his heroic saves of the day, enthusiastically explaining phasing through a tree to capture a runaway attempted bank robber.

“So I caught the guy and somehow managed to save all the money too, which is crazy when you think about it. I thought the wind would carry half of it off but not today.”

You smile at him fondly, eyes crinkling at the corners, but he can tell something else is on your mind. Repositioning himself on the couch, he turns toward you and props his head up with his fist.

“Wanna talk about it?”

He has always been able to tell when something is bothering you and your brain screams that you should say no. You should turn down all of Mirio’s kindness and lock yourself inside of this home with your grief forever, a timeless pseudo-widow trapped in a prison of her own making.

But the warmth of his gaze encourages you so much, words bubble out of you before you can stop them, your hands instantly flying to your face to be pressed against your cheeks.

“Despite what people have said, I loved him.”

Mirio’s face falls into a concerned frown when he notices your eyes welling up, your glance firmly trained on his face. The papers were pretty harsh to you when the news of his death and your subsequent appointing the heir to his agency, legacy, and image were announced. Opportunistic seemed to be the media’s favorite term, honing in on the age and vitality difference between the two of you rather than the fact a fairly selfless young woman took care of him not knowing any of this was in her future.

You never took care of him in hopes of getting anything, only out of compassion for a man who has made the lives of others so much brighter. Who heals the healer? You took it upon yourself to be the one and you do not regret a moment of it, sitting cross legged at twenty-nine with a sense of pride despite it all.

“Maybe not in a conventional way. I never had,” your face falls a little, as though you’re fearful of reaction toward what you’re about to say. “You know…sex or anything with him. We kissed a few times, we held hands on occasion but my days and nights revolved around him for five years.”

Your voice breaks and immediately you push your thumbs against your eyes to keep yourself from crying where someone else can see it although the sniffling gives you away, sharp little inhalations through your nose.

“What do I do now?”

The question appears to be rhetorical though he feels compelled to answer, wrapping a reassuring arm around your shoulders and gently pulling you against his side. The lack of personal space between the two of you is honestly nothing new, certainly more so since Toshinori’s departure, and you settle into the warmth of him. It’s a comfort you need desperately, his fingers drumming a little beat of four into your shoulder.

“Whatever you want.”

You remove your thumbs from over your eyes, sensitive and red rimmed as they are, glancing at the man next to you carefully. The brightness of your living room causes you to squint and he reaches his free hand to wipe tears from your bottom lashes, his crooked index finger pressing delicately against your skin.

“I know that sounds callous and it probably is the wrong thing to say but your life isn’t over just because he isn’t here to watch you live it.” Now it’s Mirio’s voice that cracks and he clears his throat, hand flexing against where it rests on your upper arm. “He left you the tools to live however you want. You have a successful business, you are young and beautiful and…”

He trails off and you blink at him silently. The true feelings he has tried so desperately to hide for the years he has known you are seeping out of him. How much longer can he possibly hold it in before the pressure starts to cause cracks? Before it spills out of him wildly, an ode to you from a boy who has loved you since seventeen?

You stop him from spiraling, opening your mouth to speak while tears escape over his finger and roll down your face.

“I think I’m scared, Mirio.”

This is the first time you’ve admitted it, even to yourself. An undefined future is a terrifying prospect and while Toshinori was here, you were guaranteed to always have him. Scheduled pills and injections, showers and quality of life activities. Even your work is unstructured outside of your scheduled annual audits, only being called upon when you are needed.

He holds you against him, leaning down to press his lips against your forehead. This could be just what you need and although he worries about pushing boundaries, you prove his worries wrong by snuggling further into his side. Your tears drip onto the cotton of his t-shirt and he uses his second hand to begin wiping them away, shushing you gently and affectionately.

“It’s okay to be afraid, he wouldn’t judge you for that, but don’t let it make you waste the opportunity to live exactly how you want.” His words are comforting and you nod against his chest, sniffling. “There is no right or wrong way to handle this.”

This is the first time anyone has told you that it’s okay to not know what to do right now. Not that you’ve ever asked, too fearful of making missteps to try and prevent them at all. You need reassurance and although you’ve been given it, it’s hard not to seek it from a man you’ve found so much comfort in over the past few months. He has been vulnerable with you, it seems only right to do the same for him in return.

Sighing, you unbury your face from his chest. “Do you think I’m doing okay?”

There is a version of you, more than a decade younger than you are now, that lives in Mirio’s mind and he sees her in the way you look up at him with uncertain eyes. It strikes him how long the two of you have known each other; how long he has been dancing around his feelings for you. He nods, removing his arm from your shoulder to cup your cheeks in his palms.

The urge to kiss away those tears is strong but he talks himself down, tilting your head until your gazes fully meet. All of the love he has kept to himself for a decade further threatens to spill out. He stops himself, self restraint a requirement of being a hero after all, and his thumbs gently stroke the rose petal soft skin beneath them.

“You’re doing better with all of this than anyone else ever could.”

There are no words he has ever meant more than these besides the ones he decides to keep to himself, saving the oft considered ‘I love you’ for another day.

“Thank you. For everything. I kind of worry I’m asking too much from you,” you rush to apologize and he keeps his grip on your face gentle but firm.

“You can ask me for anything you need.”

He means it more than he meant his promise to the last man that loved you.

“Alright, I think we’ve had as much fun as we are going to have. Babysitters get paid hourly, you know.”

Katsuki wraps his arm around his wife’s shoulders, pulling her close to him beneath the same lights the six of you used to drink under a long time ago while saying his goodbye. He has never been much of a drinker and hasn’t indulged even a bit tonight but his wife’s relaxed expression gives away how many beers she’s had and you giggle at her, squeezing her hand as she walks by on their way out.

“Be careful you two,” you call after them, Mirio turning to look at you while you glance over your shoulder. Only Midoriya and his wife remain seated across from you two, snuggled in the corner of their side of the booth. Deku’s ever lovely better half raises a brow and nudges her husband in the ribs gently, subtly motioning toward where the pair of you sit.

This is the first night you’ve really enjoyed yourself in the six months since you’ve lost Toshinori. It has been a great walk down a memory lane you haven’t bothered to explore in a long time.

“Gosh, he’s so grumpy,” you laugh to yourself and Mirio giggles beside you, looking as smitten as he always does. Izuku notices it and looks down at his wife, the two of them communicating wordlessly by the time you glance at them. “I’m guessing you two are next to head home?” You tease, your own brain slightly hazy from the few beers you’ve allowed yourself to indulge in.

A little voice in the back of your head made you fear showing your face in public, especially after the scrutiny that came so few months ago, but nobody has taken a second glance at your group of friends despite all of the men in the group landing in the top five of the Hero standings. It appears whatever backlash was sparked has faded quickly. You make a note to thank the classmates you had that now work in the media who were likely behind it, hoping you remember it later.

You haven’t just had a good time tonight, you’ve had a great one. Smiling gratefully, you look over at your two remaining friends.

“Like Kacchan said, babysitters are paid hourly,” Deku raises his brows and shrugs. His wife kisses his cheek, beginning to slide out of the booth while he holds onto her hand and follows.

Mirio nods at Izuku and smiles at his wife, having known the two of them since high school as well, the same story with the now gone Bakugou’s.

“Get that beautiful wife of yours home safe, Deku.” He jokes with a chuckle and his friend laughs in response, reaching across the table to pat his shoulder and then yours.

It’s hard for him to believe how much has changed over these years but how much has remained the same simultaneously. His close friends married their high school sweethearts and settled into their family life, kids and recitals and dinner parties. A piece of him has wondered for years if that could have been the two of you as well if he’d left less up to chance as a young man.

Does it do any good to wonder? Mirio doesn’t know yet he does often, tonight especially.

“You ready to go?”

A little lost in your own world, you look up at him with your eyebrows raised and nod slowly. He looks so handsome, even in this poorly lit room, and heat rises in your face straight to the tips of your ears. It has been a long time since you’ve felt that particular heat, the kind that makes your stomach flip flop.

Would it be wrong of you to ask him if he wants to hang out with you for a little while longer? You don’t have ill intentions in wanting to spend time with him, at least that’s what you tell yourself, and the few beers have made you feel brave.

“Do you wanna hang out with me for a little while? We can just go back to the house or find somewhere else or…” you trail off slightly, a little self conscious. Do you seem desperate? Lonely? Annoying? “If you don’t want to though, I understand.”

Finishing your question hurriedly, you glance up at Mirio who looks at you with that same earnest stare he has given you for years. There are depths in those pretty blue eyes, humor and pain that he has experienced and joy and so much. There is simply so much more to this man than most people know and unexpectedly, it isn’t just your face that feels too hot, it’s the entire room.

“Of course I do. Let me just take you home and we can hang out there, that way I’m not keeping a lady out too late.”

He knows he’s taking a risk by being outright flirtatious with you after months of trying to keep it subtle. He is but a man and knows that look, though. That ‘through the lashes, lips slightly parted, beautiful woman who wants to spend time with you’ look. He’d be a fool to say no, even if you two do nothing but talk for hours. There’s nothing else he’d rather do with the remnants of his night anyway.

“After you,” he offers with a bright grin. The few beers he has had make his cheeks pink and you want to reach out and touch them but refrain, uncertain of how to do all of this correctly. You’ve never really dated, outside of a few hookups in your early twenties, so this is truly foreign territory. It’s a lot to wrestle with the guilt of moving on, something you have reluctantly admitted to yourself it seems you’re doing, and the weight of grief on your shoulders at all times.

When does it ever get better or at the very least, when does it become less of a struggle?

Saving those questions for another, less fun evening you slide out of the booth and he follows after, placing his hand against your back to walk you out of the bar. It feels natural, his fingers splayed across your spine and heat once again blooms. It’s embarrassing to feel so excited by sheer touch.

Your relationship with Toshinori was never sexual. Always a companion more so than a lover despite the deep love that bloomed between the two of you, you spent a lot of nights in a different bed exploring your own body while he slept in his own room down the hall. This was always the arrangement, comfortable for both of you. He was physically incapable of having sex and you never wanted to make him feel like less because of it, still complimenting his appearance and doing your best to make him feel attractive. Which he was, even until the end that smile and those jovial blue eyes had the ability to light up a room.

It’s just different with Mirio. This isn’t the first time that heat has bloomed beneath your belly button, begging you to follow it all the way down a rabbit hole you aren’t quite sure you are ready for and the alcohol is making it worse tonight. If he can tell, he’s being a gentleman about it, something to be grateful about.

The two of you stand in the now cool autumn night air, the city still noisy outside. The breeze chills your warm cheeks and you look up at him to find him glancing down at you, wearing an expression that tells him some of the same things on your mind are on his.

“What are you thinking about?”

The question is laced with humor, as most of what the man says tends to be, and you feel caught with your pants down. Playing it off with a giggle, you decide to push back; to make him feel like he’s the one being surveyed instead.

“Why didn’t you kiss me when we were in high school?”

The topic of first kisses came up tonight, your friends reminiscing about how they’ve shared their first everything together throughout the years, and you recall yours being lackluster. Some guy you went to college with named Dai who slobbered all over your face your first year.

Certainly not who you would’ve preferred sharing a kiss with.

Your question has caught Mirio off guard and he rubs his neck, scrunching his nose and refusing to make eye contact with you. The truth is that he was simply too afraid to make a move and by the time he was able to, it felt improper given the conflict and all that happened.

It was hardly a time for making a move on the girl you had a crush on and the two of you just went your separate ways after that. He became a Pro Hero, working his way up into the top 15 within his first year and then the top 10 the next and only climbing from there, you went to college to pursue your public safety certification. By the time you were able to reconnect in your early twenties, your lives had diverged so wildly it no longer felt appropriate to, well, go after you.

“I don’t know,” he finally says. “I think I was afraid you didn’t like me back.” Snorting, you attempt to stifle your laughter. He glances down at you, tilting his head, feigning offense.

“Really? I’m being honest with you and you’re going to laugh at me?”

Wrapping your arm around his bicep, you attempt damage control by resting your head against him. A breathy sigh leaves you and you glance upward to catch him staring down at you once again.

“I had such a crush on you that even Hatsume gave me shit about it.” You speak through your nose, attempting the now most sought after equipment outfitter in all of Japan's higher voice and inflection. “Where’s your little boyfriend, magnet girl?”

The two of you devolve into a fit of childish giggles, not unlike the ones you shared back then, and without warning he leans in close to you. You still cling to his bicep but he’s bent at the waist, lips inches from yours, one of his hands reaching to rest against the side of your neck.

“Can I make up for it now?”

Ocean eyes search yours, pleading for an answer. All of that heat courses through your body at once and without putting too much thought into any real consequence, you nod. Just a kiss won’t hurt either of you, for old time’s sake regardless of what may or may not be blooming here. Mirio closes the distance between the two of you and gently brushes his lips against yours, gentlemanly and chivalrous even in the throes his tremendous need to touch and feel and be close to you, and you whimper when he pulls away sooner than you liked.

“Was that okay?”

Giggling, you lean in and kiss him again to give him his reply. It was more than okay, it was everything you’ve ever dreamed of. His lips are soft, a sharp comparison to the well kept and bulky rest of him that you have had to stop yourself from eyeing hungrily on more than one occasion. His mouth tastes like salt and beer and love.

Pure love lives on his tongue that is working its way into your mouth while he hurriedly backs you two into a narrow alleyway between the bar you just left and the building next to it. His knee rests between your barely parted legs and your hands reach for anything they can grab, forearms and biceps and his shoulders and chest. You touch recklessly, one hand sliding up the side of his neck to cup his jaw and the other rubbing circles just beneath the hem of his shirt, above his belt buckle.

“Hey,” he stops you unexpectedly to catch his breath, chest heaving while he glances down at you. “I want to keep this going but I have to tell you first that I love you.”

There it is. The thing he has been keeping to himself for twelve long, torturous years. Mirio loves you so fiercely he wonders how he’s managed to even breathe the last 12 years without you by his side, your laughter and light filling his days and nights no matter how they go.

How could he ever live without you again? He isn’t sure that he could.

Blinking up at him, you slide your hand further up his face and tousle his blonde hair between your fingers.

“I don’t care if it’s too soon for you to say it back or if you ever will but I love you. I have for such a long time it hurts to keep it to myself any longer.”

The smile on your face turns into a full blown grin, fingers still snaked in his hair. Maybe it’s too soon, maybe lust is winning the battle between your wits and your heart or maybe this is a chance to say something you’ve felt for longer than you realized.

“I love you too, Mirio.”

It doesn’t make your love for Toshinori any less real to admit you love the man who has been by your side for virtually 24 hours a day for the last six months and long before that too.

He leans back in and kisses you again, silencing any thoughts other than the two of you and it leaves you breathless, gently grinding against his jean clad thigh and sucking on his tongue. Another pause and he pulls away, cupping your face.

“Take me home with you.”

It isn’t a plea of desperation but one of pure unadulterated need. He needs you, any way you’ll let him have you, tonight.

Nodding, you close the distance and press your lips against his.

“Let’s go.”

In all the time that has passed since you lost Toshinori, your home feels a little brighter when you arise in it each day.

It feels like somewhere you can build your own life now instead of living trapped inside the memory of his. You were concerned that changing anything about this place would rob you of the comfort of having once loved the man who left it to your care but you know he wouldn’t want you to stand in one place for long. All those months ago, Mirio was right when he told you that Toshinori would want you to make the best of what you’ve been given.

Move forward, he’d assure you if he were still here. Be yourself and find happiness.

Despite all the ways you’re still healing, you have.

You think about him every day. You will forever, regardless of the nature of your relationship and how other people view it. Some days the memory of him cuts through you like a knife, especially the last year of your life with him spent doing a lot more caretaking than you’d done the prior four, and other days it’s a gentle breeze. A whisper and reminder that he’s watching you, he loves you, he’s proud of you.

You’ve done the All Might legacy well, donating a large chunk of his fortune back to the communities he so committedly served. Scholarships for students who want to go to hero academies but may not have the pedigree or wealth to let them in, rebuilding the last remnants of an over decade old war that still scar areas of Musutafu tourists don’t visit.

The dreams you have yet to fulfill with what you’ve been provided make your future seem more full than ever. Hospitals bearing his name, education about the balance of hero life and personal life, safety equipment becoming better than ever. Your ambitions are big and you will make them all come true, a vow you made to him on the day he died even if he wasn’t cognizant enough to understand what you were saying.

This is all for him, dearly departed, a man you cared so deeply about you would’ve taken care of him for ten more years if you had to. You’re grateful it didn’t come to that if only for his sake, the suffering his ailing body was facing more than you like to think about even today, but all things considered it was a good life.

Even the papers have commended the woman they once referred to as an amoral opportunist.

Maybe you aren’t so bad after all.

And today when your feet hit the ground, the sun rises and fills the room with light through the gauzy curtains you put up a few months back. The cat you recently adopted twines himself around your legs and looks up at you expectantly, breakfast already a few minutes late. You couldn’t go long without having something new to take care of, the cat was once a beat up little thing brought to you by Lemillion himself one evening after a shift that has grown into a demanding beast.

“Saving little lost cats is a bit cliche, isn’t it?” You joked when he unzipped his hooded sweatshirt and produced the fuzzy, green eyed lump that mewed at you the moment he saw you. Mirio grinned and half shrugged. “Yeah but I’m good at it, right?”

Good he is, you think looking over at his still sleeping form in your bed.

For some, it may be too soon to cautiously lend your heart to another man. You love Toshinori and always will, the impact he left on your life is profound in ways you’ll discover for years to come, but a part of you has always loved Mirio even if circumstances prevented the pair of you from being together. He was once a silly teenager who was too afraid to ask you to be his girlfriend when he graduated high school, satisfied to leave things up to fate, and now he is a grown man who has been by your side through the most painful loss of your life so far, holding you together on the days when you were worried you would crumble.

Both of you are grateful that fate decided well although she took her time and brought a lot of pain on her way.

Instead of getting out of bed, you lean down and pick up your now purring cat and slide back into bed beside him, his hands instinctively reaching behind him for your thighs to pull you closer.

“I didn’t think you were awake,” you whisper and he chuckles, scarred hand running up the expanse of your thigh while your cat climbs onto his shoulder and licks his face. There’s no use in trying to carefully swat the creature away so he lets him settle onto the pillow above his head.

“I always notice when you get up and I have to fight the urge to follow you.”

Giggling, you wrap yourself around his back and rest your cheek between his bare shoulder blades.

“Why’s that?”

He finally turns to face you, blue eyes glancing down at the thing he has wanted for years. Your unmade, half awake face. The domesticity of your cat purring above both of your heads. The promise of packing to take a week off from heroics to go and enjoy a far off destination neither of you have been together.

“In case I ever lose you again,” he admits vulnerably and you smile up at him, hand reaching to cup his cheek.

The half awake mumblings have more truth to them then you could possibly imagine, fear that something else will hurt you or pull you away from him. Fear that he’s going to waste his time again, precious days he has always wanted to spend with you meaning nothing because he’s too cowardly to fight for what he wants. Maybe a younger version of Mirio Togata would have let this happen but not this one, older and wiser that he is.

The ring he plans on proposing to you with this week is nestled in his suitcase, buried beneath too many pairs of socks and probably too few pairs of boxers. He won’t even mind a long engagement, if you need one, as long as he knows forever with you is what waits on the other side.

“You don’t have to worry about that. I think we’re stuck together for life after all we’ve been through.”

As he promised his mentor a few months over a year ago, he will ensure that you are.

#all might x reader #toshinori yagi x reader #mirio togata x reader #lemillion x reader #kendall writes #cw death

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maidenvault · 1 year

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RotJ makes a point of letting us know that Leia is Luke's sister, they've known this on some level for a long time, and he probably cares more about her than anyone in the world because this gives so much more weight to his conflict at the end of the movie, and I think this is a huge thing people overlook when they argue that him redeeming his father represents a rejection of the old Jedi ways of non-attachment. Because in the moment he has to let go of Leia and his friends to be able to actually save Anakin.

When Obi-Wan tries to convince Luke that he has to kill Vader and there's no other way, he doesn’t really discuss it as an issue of Luke having an attachment to him. I think he knows this isn't really the Jedi way but just like in the previous war, they don't seem to be faced with any good choices. Obi-Wan believes what Luke wants is truly impossible and, having failed to stop Vader when he could have before, of course he's trying to stop Luke from making the same mistake.

But it's significant that in the same conversation, Obi-Wan does warn him that his love for his sister could be made a liability if he's not careful. When Luke learns he has a twin and reveals how strong a connection he feels with Leia because he doesn't even have to be told who it is, Obi-Wan's response sets up how this will play into the climax of the film:

"Your insight serves you well. Bury your feelings deep down, Luke. They do you credit, but they could be made to serve the Emperor."

Then when Luke is brought to Sidious, he reveals to Luke that the Rebellion is walking right into a trap as a way to torment and provoke him. Luke gets angrier and angrier while helplessly watching the fleet get ambushed and finally does just what Sidious wants and tries to attack him. But it's Vader specifically threatening Leia that makes Luke totally lose control of his feelings and fight him in a rage.

Luke is basically facing the same kind of test he failed so badly in ESB by running off to help his friends. When Yoda is trying to make him see he's not ready to face Vader and keep him from going to Bespin, he says something that I think is such an underrated quote in its importance to Luke's whole journey:

"Decide you must how to serve them best. If you leave now, help them you could, but you would destroy all for which they have fought and suffered."

Luke is really lucky he doesn't get killed in Cloud City (or captured, which I think at this point could have resulted in him being turned). Yoda knows Luke is the one person with a chance of defeating the Emperor and Luke just about throws that away.

But at the end of RotJ when Luke cuts off Vader's hand, he surely is reminded of his failure at Bespin and sees the path he's starting down by succumbing to his fears like that again. He stops because he sees he's betraying his loved ones and everything he is. He can only throw away his weapon and confidently tell the Emperor to eat shit then because he's no longer afraid of dying or of those he loves dying. He's done what his father couldn't do and kept his soul intact, which is what Leia would want. Because real love isn't selfishly trying to save someone by betraying what they believe in like Anakin did with Padme. And it obviously has to be an incredibly powerful thing for Vader to see his own son able to do this, even comparing himself to the man he once was ("I am a Jedi, like my father before me").

We remember everything working out okay so it's easy sometimes to forget that Luke gives this triumphant speech when the rebel fleet is getting pulverized outside and things overall still look pretty hopeless. He probably expects he could die at this point. But like Obi-Wan in his own death scene, he knows nothing can destroy him now. And it's the love he feels for his family that gives him the strength to let go.

#luke skywalker #anakin skywalker #leia organa #jedi order #pro jedi #star wars #meta #my meta

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acotar-taylorsversion · 3 months

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Future ACOTAR Books

Ok, so Sarah is contracted for 2 more acotar novels and a novella, right?

Here's how I'm thinking its gonna be laid out.

ACOTAR -1, ACOMAF -2, ACOWAR -3, ACOFAS -novella 1, ACOSF -4

ACOTAR 5 - Elain's book with Azriel as love interest. I believe she will reject the bond with Lucien and help Nesta and Az with the trove and locating Koschei, the prison, Az and Nuala and Cerridwen helping her with her seer skills since it can be related to spying, and all that. There's much that could happen here and some many questions could be answered.

Novella 2 - this can be Vassa and Lucien's. I truly believe that if Elain would reject the bond, Lucien would allow himself to discover something with Vassa. This would push the story along for the Koschei storyline because I believe that Lucien and Vassa will be heavily involved with that. Sarah made Lucien a part of this band of exiles for a reason. We could also see or hear about what the inner circle is doing through their povs or through some type of correspondence through Lucien. This could possibly start while Elain's story is going on as well, if she rejects the bond early on in her book. She could even tie in Mor and what it is that she's doing since she's trying to get more allies for Rhys. And even Eris since he will be dealing with Beron and the aftermath of being caught. Seems like a lot but Tower of Dawn was meant to be a novella and look how that one turned out.

ACOTAR 6 - this could be a multi pov novel that centers around all the sisters and their chosen loves. And don't tell me she won't because she did it in acofas. OR it could be in feyre and Rhy's povs because they are sarah's favorite couple and if she had to end the series with any couple I believe it would be them. But anyway, I believe that Koschei will be the final big bad for acotar and its gonna take a lot to defeat him. it's gonna take everyone coming together just like they did with the king of Hybern. I also believe that people are gonna die. I've always felt that Mor would be the one to die and maybe Lucien, and Helion, and Tamlin. I think that a couple of courts would be left without high lords and this would allow Rhys and Feyre to become High King and Queen, especially after what we learned in HOFAS, its pretty much his birth right. Wouldn't be something since Tamlin told Feyre that there were no such things as High Lady's and she would end the series as High Queen! lol

This is what I think will be happen, and it's my opinion so I don't need anyone telling me that I'm crazy or delusional, none of that. Based on what happened in frost and starlight (the one that sarah said she set up the rest of the series in), I believe this is what could happen. Do I think Nesta's story is done? No, and we could have her pov in the last book with her sisters. Do I think the valkyries are gonna be main characters? No, I don't because I think they are there mainly for Nesta and I only see them helping with battles and maybe some research. That's it. Do I think the illyrians will be important? Maybe, but sarah has been known to forget about some plots or just completely shut them down in the next book. Remember how we all thought Kallon from frost and starlight was gonna be Cassian's enemy #1 in silver flames? Don't remember him at all? Exactly.

Sorry for the long post, I just have to get all of this out of my head before it drives me crazy. Just so y'all know, I'm pro elriel, feysand, nessian, vassien (if Lucien survives). I don't see how elucien could ever be a happy mated couple, and I don't see how people think Gwyn and Az could ever be romantic and you can't say the next book is Nesta's and say that sarah will have gwynriel as the couple when they would be side characters. Each book will be centered around a couple, right? Did she say new or established? I can't remember but the main couple wouldn't be in the background. And I don't see how Gwyn could carry an entire novel. I'm sorry, I just can't. It would be half of silver flames and I don't think Sarah will do that. And I do think its messed up how sarah and Bloomsbury have let this nasty ship war go on for this long.

But I do believe that this series started with Feyre and her sisters and it will end with her and her sisters. I believe Sarah has made such a big deal with 3's for a reason. Do you guys remember that scene in mist and fury where Mor (whose power is truth) painted the 3 sisters and 3 brothers on the wall in the cabin? That meant something. Mor's reaction to almost every Elriel interaction means something just like it did with Nesta and Cassian. Azriel being able to smell Elain's mating bond and questioning the cauldron means something. The sisters being Made means something. The fact that the cauldron was messed with means something.

Anyways, these are my thoughts. Sorry that this is so long. Please be kind.

#acotar #elain archeron #elriel #acotar 5 #vassien #azriel shadowsinger #pro elriel #lucien vanserra #vassa acotar #nesta archeron #feysand #pro elain archeron #anti g*ynriel #anti el*cien

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alatusprinz · 1 year

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yan! genshin x darling with abandonment issues

characters : xiao , albedo , kaedehara kazuha x f! reader

warning : obsessive behavior, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, the very stereotypical traits found in yandere lovers, mention of planned/considering murder, manipulation, threatening, etc. reader has abandonment issues, insecurities, and is wary/distrustful about love and romantic partners in general. < fem pronouns used - bride etc >

諸行無常 - 世のすべてのものは、移り変わり、また生まれては消滅する運命を繰り返し、永遠に変わらないものはないということ。

Shogyou mujou - Impermanence. A phrase that means everything in the world repeats its destiny to to be born and to disappear, that there is no existence in the world that remains without changing .

[ prior scenario ]

“hey…” you called out to your captor, finally working up the courage to talk to him like you would to anyone else. when your voice broke the silence in the sullen room, his gaze was immediately directed at you.

“what is it?” you gulped at his curt yet obvious reply, still trying to keep your voice from wavering when you continued onto a subject you knew could upset them or worse. you were displeased by how much you were trembling at the thought, even when there was not an ounce of wrath evident in his voice or face as of present.

in truth, it took you however long you imagine to even work out the confidence to demand such inquiry, it could’ve been days, weeks or even more. you couldn’t have known exactly how long- after all, it’s been a paradox in time since the cursed moment you stepped foot into his lair. you reckon it’s been quite a few months in captivity if not a year already.

“what do you really want from me, keeping me here?” you saw him open his mouth to respond, but you immediately continued without giving him or yourself time. you feared you would lose your will to speak otherwise, despite having repeated the same question in your mind millions of times.

“so now you have me in this cramped room at all times within your sight. i barely move or talk… i’m almost kept like… a doll here.” you kept your eyes on him for any chances of extreme anger or outburst while resuming.

“you see, people lose interest. as time passes, your former shiny doll will always lose its gleam and a new doll will catch your eye. when someone learns a song they adore on zither or harp it won’t matter, the song feels less special once you’ve mastered the flow and rhythm so it belongs to you completely- when the song doesn’t have anything new to offer anymore. you could buy anything and make it your possession, but it will always bore you in the end. it’s a matter of time.” his face remained as blank as ever, still listening carefully to your uncharacteristically melancholic statement today.

“love that comes from mere fascination or ownership… won’t last.”

so let me go while you still cherish me. before you decide to abandon me like a used toy. you were ashamed to admit your original motivation of asking him to let you go won’t leave your mouth.

you would rather bite your tongue and die this very instant than admit to him why you were asking this question after all this time. you tried and tried to repress your feelings, the growing feeling inside your chest that is slowly turning into fondness and familiarity instead of sheer disgust and loathe as you should be feeling. it doesn’t make sense- he robbed you of your everything. everything you learned to be a part of your mundane life, every routine and passion you’ve had (you barely even remember what life was before, but you imagine you could’ve had… those things that made you human.) disappeared like dandelion pappus in the wind. you try, you look at his godforsaken actions he veil and glorify as an act of love, you scoff and ignore and fight with all your will not to bend into his desires as easily. but the crawling, sinking realization you were aware from a while ago ate away at what little left from your pride each moment past.

you couldn’t pretend like everything was normal anymore, not when every inch of your body, every thought surrounding your brain was his love. you knew your true feelings for your captor now. but you couldn’t possibly unravel the truth he oh-so desperately wants- needs to hear. in truth, you felt yourself fall deeper for his wicked charm every day. it made you physically sick but the way he loved you, the way he touched you and caressed your soul, his suffocating care for you felt familiar now, you craved him, you yearned for his impudence in all its glory, the gut wrenchingly familiar scent of his when you awoke from nightmares. you searched for him, you yearned his presence when he wasn’t around and you were positive he knew it. after all, he was the one who trained your body and soul to his perfection- carved your being, to the point you seemed to be the one chasing him at this point in your mind, the only space you have left to you that's private.

it scared you to bits whenever you thought of revealing your feelings. what if he only liked the thrill of your struggles? what if he only wanted the chase? what if he grew tired of you soon now that you’re all boring and “his”?

this is how your thoughts finally manifested itself into a question, to test the waters.

he finally responded.

and it wasn’t at all what you had expected.

xiao ( alatus) .

“how absurd.” xiao really could not understand the worries of you mortals. he could swear to the seven archons that he tried, he had asked around, he read words on papers you call “books” that seemingly guide you when you’re lost, (worthless if you ask him, since it didn’t guide him when he needed it the most with you), he’s spent time observing countless mortals just so he could get a grip on how your restless mind works.

it’s like you seem to confuse him more and more as time passes by, and that was quite the opposite of what he desired.

“what makes you believe you are as worthless as physical objects?” xiao found no reason in mincing his words, your comparison made him offended, if anything. how could you possibly imagine thinking of yourself as the same value of an inanimate object, or even a melody that’s shared between hundreds or thousands at the same time? the idea of you being shared between countless mortals and being another’s “property” left not only a bitter taste in his mouth, but a dangerous, lingering urge to choose destruction.

the general yaksha was no fool to his vow, he was never to harm or terminate mortals, let alone liyue inhabitants. the lord of geo and his contract would not allow. however, a small voice at the back of his voice whispered- he was a guardian yaksha. he was known, a living legend amongst the nationals, surely nobody would dare stand against an Adepti’s desire. after all, mortals were weak and easily manipulated. he could make sure anyone stay away within a minute of a conversation or a… threatening action. and as much as he does not wish to sever his vows to the lord of geo, he certainly held the nonpacifict solution should the circumstances demand.

but... keeping you here, away from those who would bring you harm protects both you, his angel and his vow to avoid harming mortals, don't they? it was the perfect solution.

he thought he had made it clear by now- that he adored you more than anything, that never once in his painfully long existence he had laid his eyes on anything, anyone more sublime than you. and your benevolence gave him the bliss of peace he desperately needed, he basked in your glory, your warmth on the iciest nights he was cursed to spend in solitude.

you saved him- you were xiao’s everything. if you were not to remain his oasis, what more could his sorry existence serve for? for what purpose would the vigilant yaksha continue his never-ending agony for, if not for your heavenly smile? he had never required, or wanted words of gratitude before, he upheld his vows to perfection, well aware that he was an entity destined to live in the shadows, just so the light could shine brighter. however, neither of you knew that it would lead to… this, the one night that you recognized him as the vigilant yaksha where you coincidentally entwined your red strings of fate on Mt. Hulao. (god knows how or why you had wandered into the space meant for the adepti, you truly had no memory of the life before him at this moment, no matter how you tried to reminisce).

you were all Alatus had, all he has ever wanted. his hands were stained crimson red for eternity, but you, he would bring celestia to ruin, defy every archon’s wrath, shield you in his arms and face the eye of the storm if that’s what you desired. to keep your hands clean, and your soul stainless for he was already tarnished beyond repair. the least he could do was protect you, his one and only, from the dirtiest parts of the world.

one whisper from your tender lips, and he would be gone, swift as the wind for his newest mission, mind filled with your loving smile.

“i’ve gave you my word, have i not?” xiao continued, hoping for your understanding behind his stone-cold expression you couldn’t have unraveled.

“...” you remained silent, to his displeasure, he was forced to continue. you and your mortal perplexity.

“i’ve sworn to protect you. an oath is an oath, (name). i will remain by your side. vows are to be upheld in perpetuity.” xiao’s monotone voice sounded as still as ever despite his rather melancholic words.

you, on the other hand, weren’t fully convinced. rather, you didn’t allow yourself to be soothed of your worries precisely because of his nonchalant behavior. there was no way he’d stay… this way for eternity. the perpetuity he speaks of will somehow find its end, your mind convinced.

after all… he offered you his protection, his company and his presence. not… not love. he had never once mentioned the word ‘love’ in your presence, or perhaps ever in his couple millenia of existence had he ever even let the heavy word drop from his lips. and you both knew it was perhaps for a good reason.

to both of your surprise, he finally learns of your worries when you kept your silence with a frown.

with a subtle sigh, Alatus approached you carefully as he always did, as if not to scare you away. (as if you could outrun the yaksha, as if your mind would even let you at this point.). he sat down next to you on your cold bed, then reached out to place his trembling hand on yours.

you might not know, but that’s the only act of intimacy he’s aware of to you humans. you couldn’t help but stare at his gloved hands on yours, the leather-like material sinking on your skin and leaving a heavy sensation with absolutely no trace of warmth. in fact, you had never felt much heat from his body before if your memory serves.

except for the warmth you felt right now, listening to his careful words meant to soothe your concerns. it was almost enough to make you forget the absence of sunlight, the last time you had a deep breath of the fresh morning dew from liyue harbor, the sounds of the city locals chatting away in peace. almost enough to make you forget why you were here to begin with.

“... if my promise isn’t enough… tell me what to do.” you couldn’t mask your surprise when you heard his words. his hand finally relaxed, yet still cold as ever.

“ephemeral circumstances. perpetual agony. that’s all i have ever known.” xiao couldn’t believe how uncharacteristically chatty you forced him to be. but if his mundane words could soothe your bitter expression, there was nothing he was unwilling to do.

“諸行無常. - all worldly existences are impermanent.”

“...but my oath is eternal. i will spend a millenia… an immortal lifetime proving it to you.”

“just speak my name. i will keep you…” he wanted to say happy, he wanted to promise you a joyful life. he wanted to say he would love you... but he was a cursed being, doomed with the vexation of the millions that were slain by his bloodied hands.

“i will keep you safe.” he retracted his arm after his final promise to you, and disappeared without a trace. suddenly, the sullen room looked even darker than you remembered. as if the darkness was all you’ve ever known.

and yet again, the word you desired- no promise of ‘love’ was mentioned.

albedo ( kreideprinz ) .

“so it makes you insecure.” you flinched at his naturally curt reply, cutting through where it hurts the most. it was such a familiar answer from albedo, analyzing even verbal communication with utmost composure and sharp perception. his teal eyes appeared to be shining in the dimly lit room, ice-cold stare almost pinning you down like on a leash.

“you’re struggling with feelings of insecurity and it’s manifesting itself into an apprehensive behavior because you feel like i’d get tired of you once the halo effect wears off.” he continued, all while sitting perfectly still, his posture and gaze remaining as absolute and subtly confident as ever. he had almost never been incorrect about his analysis on you, it’s almost eerie. anything he put his mind to and observed, experimented, hypothesized and concluded, it was more or less on point. and this time too, he didn’t fail to notice your ulterior hidden worries.

the worst part? you were positive he was already well aware of your true feelings behind your distant exterior. after all, he had never been fooled by your acting, never once. he knew you too well to fall for it, and it made you wonder just how long he had observed you before your captivity.

“it seems accurate and human of you to have such concerns. after all, the vast population of mankind seems to have a taste for unfaithfulness. enough to make others spend the rest of their existence cowering in fear of betrayal.” your eyebrows furrowed at his unwelcome analysis on your mindset, reading your deepest fears like an open book on his worn out wooden alchemy table.

“but may i remind you, i am not deeply associated with the majority of humanity to begin with, (name). i’d appreciate if you didn’t see me in the same light as the rest.” his stable voice always tricked your sorry mind into believing the atmosphere was normal and calm. but unfortunately, ticking off the kreideprinz was one of the things you noted to never do again. you could thank your gods that he doesn’t seem too irritated from what you could see.

“humans are an enigma. physical objects and intellectual creations may have its worth hidden in correlation to who possesses them. however, i do believe i don’t… own you.”

the room was immediately silent after his last statement, all you could hear was your heart thumping loudly in your ear, head feeling heavier on your shoulders each second that passed by. he thinks he doesn’t own you? that was the last phrase you thought you would hear from him.

“of course i’d like to own your heart, that’s what lovers are.” what we are - both of you knew that was his true intention behind his somewhat vague wording. “is that what you wish to hear from me, dear? that i love you.” his monotone declaration of “love” sent a wave of warmth, and cowering fear to the pit of your stomach. for one, it certainly was what you desperately craved to hear from the chalk prince. you were so, so close to giving into his sweet temptation, his reserved nature, his teal eyes that seem to only look at you, and his cold, yet addictive touch of hands, caressing you like you were the only existence that he cared about.

yet, his cold tone when he confessed the words of love weighed heavy at the back of your mind, how monotone, and… void he sounded. do people usually sound so laid back when speaking such words? you couldn’t know, you couldn’t remember. but you had a feeling it wasn’t quite the case, that he sounded too empty, his promise sounded heavy, yet desolate at the same time. that your heart felt too burdened from his love, not blissful. but if that were the case, albedo was prepared to mold your tastes until you preferred his weighty love, bitter and cold on your tongue. he'd make sure to train you until all you ever crave is his taste.

“... i love you as much as an artificial being could mimic the humane emotion of love, dearest.” he concluded the conversation coolly and with dignity like he always did, he always got the last word. after all, what he wants goes.

if you happen to disobey… well, let’s just say he was good at getting what he wanted. should he use honey-sweet words, alluring you in, threats, slight or considerable amount of pain and punishment, or make you face a situated scenario that would inevitably push you towards him…

in the end, albedo would have you. - that’s what he had concluded. after all, once again - what he wants, goes.

kaedehara kazuha .

the menacing, yet melodic giggle he responded with sharpened your senses. you never knew what to expect from him, he could easily shatter your soul and courage with one look of his eyes if that was what his mockingly poetic love demanded of him.

“love, you never cease to amaze me.” as expected of the bride, the distinguished lady of the great kaedehara clan he intended to continue. every step you take, every sway of your hair in the end, the rounin felt himself fall deeper for your charm, his one and only perfect love. you were absolutely perfect, you had to be. (you were his, after all.)

he approached you with an intimidatingly slow pace, placed his hand on the top of your head with seemingly great delicacy. the weight of his hand on your head seemed like it was pushing you down, further until you were at his feet- at his complete and eternal mercy. in one way, it was the perfect place for you, his docile loving darling. it should come natural for lovers to please and make one another happy. it should come as easy as breathing to both you and him, after all, he himself was at your feet. why shouldn’t you share the same sentiment, the same desire? he would lay down his life, lay down his everything and more. that’s what love is, existing in this cruel world in the name of your lover.

at least according to what he carved in your mind which you’ve soon learned to accept.

“have i ever once, made you feel unloved or unworthy?...” his hand travelled down, slowly and gently caressing the back of your head, the side of your neck, and lingered at the same spot while feeling your beating heart. (the heart that beats for him - the sinister thought brought a pleased smile to his lips. ) the silent confidence in his statement sent shivers down your spine. of course he was aware, he had never once denied you of your needs, everything except your freedom was in the palm of your hands. with one whisper of your voice, kazuha would carve out his heart, display it on a platter. he would sacrifice his last breath to caress your lips one last time, excarnate his own being and wrap his warm skin around your shivering body if you were cold. going to extreme length to keep you, his angel dove by his side, is an absolute necessity for him.

and the ugly truth was, he expected the exact same from you.

“have i ever left you unsatisfied?” he continued, placing his hands around your neck, not squeezing, but with just enough force of grip for your entire body to tense up in fight-or-flight instinct. too bad neither was an option.

“like i said, you might get bored-” to your surprise, your speech was interrupted.

“boredom is not something associated with true love, my dearest. i can promise you that.” his stable and calm voice never once wavered, and said to you with utmost certainty, almost to the point you allowed yourself to believe the honey-sweet temptation of love he presented you with.

“and if my verbal promise does not suffice…” finally, he wrapped his arms around you, and buried his face into your neck. with a sigh of happiness leaving his lips, he let out a low giggle near your ear.

“i’ll prove it until the rest of my life, until you believe in my love.”

until you believe me - he whispered, placing a sickeningly tender kiss on your neck. the sensation of his alluring kiss lingered on your shivering skin, your mind left blank and tempted. after all, kazuha’ forte was words. he could spin you around like a marionette, should he want.

and that’s what he intended to do. keep, worship and adore his beloved doll, lover for all eternity.

#genshin imagines #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #xiao x reader #albedo x reader #kazuha x reader #genshin xiao #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin xiao x reader #genshin kazuha x reader #genshin albedo x reader #genshin yan #yan genshin #yan xiao x reader #yan albedo x reader #yan kazuha x reader

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angstywaifu · 2 months

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The Lost Sister - Part 14

Synopsis: Xaden is known as an only child due to his sister who 'died' during the Rebellion. Little do they know she didn't die and has been so close this entire time.

Garrick Tavis x OC A/N: Thank you all for the lovely feedback and support on the last part. For those that did miss it, I would recommend going and reading part 13. I know it didn't show for a few people initially. Now Ophelia has her dragon, what are your guys thoughts on what her signet will be? Also requests are open and I do have a prompt list linked in my masterlist now. Please send in any requests! The Lost Sister Masterlist | Masterlist

A loud thud echoes around my room, Garrick’s arms tightening protectively around me.

”Ophelia hav-” A loud sigh and a dull thud as if someone has rested their head on the door meets me ears.

I feel Garrick chuckle underneath me and I look up to see Xaden resting his forehead on the half closed door, pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes screwed shut. Shit.

”Least you two finally sorted your shit out I guess.” He says sarcastically.

I let out the breath I had been holding. He’s not angry. Which given how he just found Garrick and I still very naked in my bed, I’m very glad.

“Hey Xaden did you fin-” I hear someone ask.

”Don’t come in here!” Xaden nearly yells. Feet skidding to a halt outside my door.

”Why what’s wr- Oh.” I see Bodhi’s head appear in the small gap between Xaden and the door. “About damn time.”

Xaden growls and angrily shoves Bodhi out of the way before following and shutting the door behind him, leaving Garrick and I alone. Garrick’s booming laugh echoes around my room as he pulls me to lie on top of him.

”Well that’s one way to tell your brother we sorted it out.” He tells me with a kiss to the top of my head as he brushes some stray strands of hair from my face.

”I’m surprised he didn’t kill you or throw you out in the hallway.” I joke.

”Trust me, if there’s anyone your brother wouldn’t do that to. It’s me.” He assures me.

Something in his tone tells me something had been said between the two and I knew not to pry any further. I feel Garrick’s fingers tracing up and down my side. Almost as if tracing a pattern. I look up at him to see him looking down at my side to. And that’s when I realise he’s seen my dragon relic. The white relic started just below my shoulder, and weaved its way down the side of my torso and wrapped itself all the way down to my thigh. It was quite large. And just like my dragon, the wings, tails and horns were all tipped with dark red. It was a stark contrast to the dark rebellion relic on my other side.

“That has to be the largest relic I’ve ever seen.” Mimicking my thoughts.

”Yeah Mealladh didn’t hold back.” I say remembering how she had engulfed me in heat yesterday while giving me the mark.

At the mention of her name I feel her presence in the back of my mind. But I slam the shield up between us. Another thing Melgren had taught me how to do even though I would have no way to till I bonded a dragon.

”Interesting name for an interesting looking dragon.” He mutters as his eyes move back to mine. “You two have definitely caused some commotion in the quadrant along with Violet and Tairn.”

He wasn’t wrong. Violet had bonded no one but two dragons yesterday. One of them the unbonded black dragon we were told was not bonding this years. And the golden feathertail. Also not to mention Tairn was Sgaeyl’s mate. Meaning Xaden and Violet were now connected for the rest of their lives. Despite how displeased he tried to look over it, I had not missed the furious look and shadows he had conjured to hold his feet down while Dain had kissed Violet. Something I knew Garrick had noticed to from what I had seen.

”Seems my year is full of surprises.”

He rolls his eyes. “You could say that again. Probably the most exciting year I’ve had since I started here.” He sits up, pulling me with him into his lap as he sits on the edge of the bed. “And as much as I would love to escape it for a little bit longer and stay here with you, I think your brother actually needs me.”

I narrow his eyes at him, his laugh yet again echoing around the room. This was the most I had heard him laugh since I’d been here. And I’d missed it. He sets me down on his feet as he starts to gather his clothes. He catches me staring and decides to throw some of my stuff at me, signalling to stop and do the same.

We walk out my door and run into Violet and Rhiannon whose rooms are next to mine. Both of their heads whip towards us and there’s no way to hide what definitely happened last night. The way they both look at me and smirk, they know.

”Have fun.” Garrick teases before walking away, leaving me with Rhiannon and Violet.

Both raise their eyebrows at me as I slowly approach them.

”So that’s who you dragged into your room last night when I came into the corridor.” Rhiannon says with a smirk.

”Oh shut up.” I say with a soft laugh.

”Well we’re happy for you.” Violet adds with a soft smile. “I can tell you have known him for a while, and seems its been a long time coming.”

It’s the one thing I will always give Violet credit for. She was observant. Most of the time at least.

“Do I dare ask about you and Dain?” I ask as we start walking towards breakfast.

Rhiannon laughs and shakes her head. “She felt nothing.”

“Nothing?” My head snapping towards Violet who gives a hesitant nod.

I almost felt sorry for Dain. I’d always thought those two were a done deal like Garrick and I. Just waiting for the right time for it to happen. Clearly I had been wrong. And judging by Rhiannon’s look at me, she had thought the same.

“Good morning, ladies.” Ridoc forces his way through the crowd to us, putting an arm around Violet and I as we walk into the rotunda. “Or should I say, riders?”

”I like the sound of riders.” Rhiannon replies with a smile at him.

“It has a certain wring to it.” Ridoc agrees.

”It’s definitely better than dead.” I add sarcastically earning a laugh from them all.

“Where’s your relic?” Violet asks Ridoc as we pass into the commons.

”Right here.” He removes his arm from around Violets shoulders, moving the sleeve of his tunic up to reveal the brown mark of a dragon silhouette on his arm. It was way smaller than the mark Mealladh had given me. “You?” He asks directing his question to Violet.

She points to the middle of her back. “Can’t see it. It’s on my back.

”That will keep you safer if you’re ever separated from that massive dragon of yours. His eyes dance. “I swear, I thought I was going to shit myself when I saw him on the field. Oh and yours to Ophelia. Cool colouring for a red dragon. What about yours, Rhi and Ophelia?”

”Somewhere you’ll never see.” She responds.

”Garrick might have to kill you if I show you mine.” I joke.

”You two wound me.” He slap his hand over his heart. “But about time with you and Garrick.”

We move through the commons and into the dining hall to join the line for food. The other’s are too caught up in something else to notice the shift in dynamic in the room as we enter. The volume in the room doesn’t change, the conversation still going. But I can see all eyes on our group. On Violet and I. Violet who now has a target on her back for bonding the most powerful dragon in the quadrant and one not even meant to be up this year, as well as a second dragon. Not to mention her name. Then there’s me. The lost sister of the rebellion reader bonding a dragon no ones ever seen or heard of till yesterday. We would both be targets for the unbonded from our year.

I grab my food and follow the others to a table. Ridoc goes to ask a table if we can take their spare seats, they agree but end up giving us the whole table as they run off elsewhere. Not only did Violet and I have targets on our backs from the unbonded, we’d just become two of the most powerful riders in our year and in the quadrant behind Xaden.

“Well that was really fucking weird.” Rhiannon says as she walks to the other side of the table sitting across from Ridoc and I.

“Even weirder? Ridoc remarks as he gestures to the other side of the room.

I follow his gaze and watch as Jack Barlow is being squeezed out of his table. Being forced to stand while others take his seat. He hadn’t tried anything with me, probably due to Xaden and Garrick. But he had made it clear he wanted Violet dead.

”What the hell is going on?” Rhiannon adds.

I continue to watch Jack as he tries to go to another table with no success. Eventually he finds a spot a few more tables down. My thoughts echo Ridoc’s words. How the mighty had fallen. Another girl who I remember Violet beating in her second challenge walks by and says hello happily. Then a boy I had knocked out in mere seconds congratulates me on bonding Mealladh.

“It’s because you two bonded the biggest and most powerful dragons.” Imogen adds as he blows her pink hair out of her face and takes the empty spot next to me. Her usual spot now.

Ever since our conversation after we’d beaten each other up in challenges, she frequently sat next to me at meals. She even trained with me if we were both in the gym. An unspoken friendship over a man that had picked one of us.

“The morning after Threshing is always a clusterfuck. Power balance shifts, and you, little Sorrengail and Riorson, are now about to be the most powerful riders in the quadrant. Anyone with common sense is going to be scared of you two.” She adds.

Imogen was right. There had definitely been a shift now us first years had bonded dragons. Those who had shown dominance in classes, but had bonded smaller or weaker dragons were now sitting elsewhere in the hall.

”Which is why you’re now sitting with us?” Rhiannon asks as she arches an eye brow at Imogen. “Because I can count on one hand the number of nice words you’ve said to any of us.” I smirk at the fist she holds up towards Imogen with zero fingers raised.

Quinn and Sawyer join our group, taking the spots next to Imogen and Rhiannon.

”You weren’t interesting enough to sit with before.” Imogen says casually as she bites into a muffin.

”I usually sit with my girlfriend in Claw Section,. Besides, no use getting to know you when most of you die, no offence.” Adds Quinn.

She had a very valid point. A lot of us had died in the past few months. Though even with dragons there was still a chance we would die. It wasn’t as common, but here and there second and third years would be on the death roll in the morning.

It had become clear we were the squad on top now. With Violet and I with the biggest dragons in the quadrant now. Some third years I had only seen in passing and at formation every morning came and joined us. We were now worth their time. The only ones missing were our leaders and they were sat over with leadership.

My squad launch into talks about Barlowe and his smaller dragon, Violet not wanting to eat the food and Imogen offering to train Violet. I can tell by the way Imogen talks it is not her choice. I look over at the leadership table on the dais and catch Garrick looking at Violet with worry. He’s concerned. With Violet and Xaden’s fates now tethered together, their lives depend on each other. Xaden is going to do anything he can to make sure she stays alive. And as Xaden looks up from peeling his apple to look at Violet, I know that is what he intends.

I look back to see the others getting up to make their way to our first ever flight lesson. Something I was quite excited for. Yesterdays small taste of flying was not enough. I wanted more. I go to follow but a hand on my arm stops me, and I look over to see Imogen looking at me with a smirk.

”So how was it?” Part 15 Taglist:

@riorgail @going-through-shit @fw-gt @bbkissme99 @xceafh @leptitlu

#fourth wing #the empyrean #fourth wing fanfic #the fourth wing #garrick tavis #garrick tavis x reader #garrick tavis imagine #garrick tavis x oc

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jamesdeniscouldnever · 8 months

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Yay! I'm absolutely enthralled by this series, so the inspiration just keeps flowing. Same as the rolan fic Zevlor's hurt/comfort won. I love him. These two made me realize I love teiflings. Gonna scream. This takes place if you failed to save him in act two but its a little AU in the sense that you save him before Orin can...ya know.

The Guardian's Guardian

Summary: Caught in Orin's sordid little web, Zevlor finds himself on the receiving end of some less than pleasant treatment. Hes sure he deserves it for being an oathbreaker and abandoning his fellow tieflings. So why, amongst the pain and torture he endures , does he find his mind seeking comfort that he doesn't deserve in the memory of a friend?

Zevlor couldn't begin to find the words to explain his terror. He was certain he'd simply be turned into an absolute cultist after Ketharic had taken him, nothing special and no one of note. But no. Instead, when Thorm had been killed and the injured Tav had been making their way out of the belly of the beast, they had missed him. At least, he liked to think they missed him. Surely they wouldn't have left him there if they'd known...would they?

He'd been at peace with the idea of dying there, but all that had shattered when a terrifying woman with pale skin that swirled in strange patterns had appeared. She'd smiled so cruelty when she saw him. She had said only one word.

"Perfect." And that was all it took. She'd opened the pod, grabbed him, and in a swirl of ash, they were someplace else. Someplace dark and damp and reeking of blood.

That was almost a week ago. How he'd survived so long he wasn't sure, he'd been on the receiving end of numerous beatings, tortures, and even a flaying since then. He winces to himself as the memory of his own raw nearly-skinned flesh on his left leg causes it to flare in pain once more. Certainly, some God must be keeping him alive for their amusment. Or for his own punishment.

If he'd just fought the absolute harder, he wouldn't be in this mess. His people would be safe. Tav may have had more help in slaying Ketharic.

Tav.

He closes his eyes, feeling the cold stone of the cell floor against his back, and allows himself to think of them. He doesn't deserve the comfort their memory brings. He doesn't deserve to fantasize about them bursting through the door and rescuing him. He doesn't deserve to be worried about them. Certainly they were okay. Far far away from this cultish temple to a filthy God. Far away from him.

That thought brings him more comfort than he was expecting. The idea that they were somewhere safe beyond Orin's reach makes him exhale a breath of quiet relief. A relief he had no right to feel. They weren't his.

He'd been in love with them, no doubt, since the Grove. Their kindness, their leadership, the diffusion of tension among the refugees, and their willingness to help. Help teiflings, no less. A notable trait since the fall of Elturel.

If anyone had been around, he'd have scolded himself for the small smile he allows to creep onto his lips as he thinks of them, their smile, their eyes. It's enough to make him ignore the pain the action brings by reopening the scab on his split lip.

He feels his eyes growing heavy, the tension of pain outweighed by his outright exhaustion. He's almost able to slip into a much needed sleep. Almost.

But the comfort is cut short by the sounds of shouting somewhere above him. It must be loud to traverse the stone of his prison. Perhaps someone had displeased Orin. Perhaps she was making another sacrifice to her awful parentage. Maybe Zevlor would be next.

He doesn't open his eyes. Let them come take him. Let his suffering be over. Let his punishment finally be complete.

But even as the screams and yells die down, they do not come. Even as the whole of the caverns fall silent, they do not come. No, what comes is a frantic voice and the sound of several pairs of boots scraping against the dirt and stones. He is certain now - he has, in fact, died. Died and, through some measure of mercy from the same gods who ignored him, been allowed to see them again.

"Zevlor, please! Where are you? Please, Gods, tell me we weren't too late!" The panic in their voice is enough to rouse him. There shouldn't be such pain after death, such a heartbreaking cry. Unless this is his personal Hell. No, this is not real. He won't play their games anymore. He doesn't respond.

"Zevlor! Gods dammit all! Please! Please answer me!" Tav's voice cries again, closer now. The sounds of clanging doors and cells being ripped open follows them. He sighs in content. Even with such pain laden in it, their voice is like a symphony to him now. A soothing balm to caress his soul. He only wishes it was singing one of the lullabies they'd taught the children or telling one of their stories. But this would do.

The world begins to fade around him, finally letting him go. From deep within his swimming hearing, he hears a cell being yanked open. A desperate cry that sounds as if someone is in pain. A word repeated over and over. He strains as much as he cans to listen-

"-vlor! Zevlor. Please, Zev, please!" A desperate cry. He feels hands on his chest, his neck, then moving to his face. He flinches despite himself, and he hears what sounds like a sob. He tries to open his eyes. Tries to tell the visage of his beloved Tav not to cry, that it will all be over soon, but he can't control his tongue nor his eyes. It's as if they're both turned to rock inside his skull.

The last thing he hears before darkness pulls him down is a fractured sentence.

"Karlah- arry him plea- ave to get out of here!"

After that is dark. He's not sure for how long. He's not sure if he was conscious during it all or not. All he's aware of now is warmth that the cells of the cult of Bhaal had been devoid of.

A crackling sound. A fire. He tries to move his hands, move any part of himself. He's able to feel the twitch of his tail and something soft pressing against his fingertips. A bedroll?

No. A bed. A real bed. The soft dip of mattress under him tells him this. Where in the 9 hells is he?

He struggles his eyes open, the light that meets them a little garish compared to the dark of his previous surroundings. However, they adjust after a moment, and he blinks several times. He's in a room, lavishly decorated, warm, large. He turns his hand and sees several beds, all just as large and soft as his own lining the walls. Curtains hang from the doorway, having been pulled down, presumably for his privacy. He hears voices speaking soft beyong them.

He tries to speak but finds his throat hoarse and painful. He tries to sit up instead but groans out loud in pain as he moves his left leg. Right. Basically skinned alive. But looking down, he notices it's been bandaged, the scent of yarrow and other medicinal herbs wafting from around him.

His yelp seems to have been heard as footsteps rapidly approach the curtains, and a pair of hands yank them apart, a face appearing between them. Tav.

Their eyes are wide, set in both fear and relief, their bottom lip quivers slightly before they swallow and quickly close the space between the curtains and his bed. They don't hesitate to drop to their knees beside him, taking one of his clawed hands in theirs.

"Zev! Oh gods, have mercy, you're awake! You're awake. You're safe. I'm here." Their voice seems to flit through the stages of grief, then relief, then gentle happiness. He doesn't reply, just stares at them with wide eyes of his own.

They simply hold his hand tight and keep repeating the same words to him. As if they're an incantation that will heal his battered body. "I'm here. I'm here. I'm here."

His eyes flit to the curtains, and he sees faces peaking through. Tav's companions. They watch with varying degrees of pity, joy, amusement, or disgust. His looks back to Tav and tries to speak, but only a croak replies. Tav's eyes widen, and they're reaching for the pitcher of water beside the bed before he can even grasp at their hand as it leaves his. They pour a glass and hold it to his lips for him, their other hand cradling the back of his neck as they urge him to drink. He does, and before he even realizes it, he's drained the glass. They pour him another, but he only sips at this one before he finally speaks.

"It's you. You came for me...why? Why would you do that? Why would you put yourself and your friends in danger for me? You could've been hurt! You could have been killed!" Its not until Tav places their hands on his cheeks and hums soothingly that he realizes his voice had been growing in volume. One hand remains on his cheek, and the other moves to stroke through his hair, passing across the bases of his horns. He can't keep himself from sighing and curling in on himself at their touch. Tears blur his vision, and he let's them fall. He's so relieved. Not for himself but for them.

"Zevlor, of course I came for you. I would never have left anyone to Orin's torture, but least of all you. I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you." They hushed. His tears continued, and wrecked sobs finally burst forth from his throat.

"But why!? I don't deserve your kindness, your sacrifice, and care! I-I gave in to the absolute! I left my people to die! I broke my oaths, I left innocent children helpess, and now I put you all in danger. I'm a murderer." Zevlor wails. He deserved to die there. He shouldn't be here, he should be a body laying in the pits of Avernus left to-

"Zevlor!" Their voice cuts through again. They're gently pulling his hands away from his arms, where scratches and traces blood are now forming. He'd been hurting himself and hadn't even realized it. "Stop. Zev, your people are safe. I got them out of moonrise, and I returned them to their families. There were a few losses but...I did what I could. Arabella's parents... but that doesn't matter. It isn't your fault. The absolutes hold on people is almost unbreakable, but you did it. You broke it. You aren't a murderer. You're a victim. Please don't hurt yourself over this, I can't bear to see it. I love you too much for it."

Their words are so earnest and spoken with such certainty that he almost misses the end part. His gaze whips up to meet theirs, and he almost cries anew at the look in their eyes. He buries his face in their chest and breakdown down once more. They hold him close and gently rock back and forth with the. They rub his back and stroke his hair and whisper words of encouragement and kindness to him. He takes a deep breath and pulls back from them. He pulls his head back and whimpers.

"I love you. I've loved you since that day in the Grove that you saved Arabella from Kagha. Since you showed Geux how to defend himself or kept Lia and her brothers together. I must have annoyed the others with how much I talked about you after we left there. But I couldn't help myself. You're perfect. You're goodness incarnate. I love you. I need you." His voice sounds foreign to himself. Desperate and teary and full of fear. But that's just the effect Tav has on him. He can be weak in front of them. He can be vulnerable.

Lips press against his before he can even look up again. He let's his eyes slip shut, and he sighs into it, allowing himself to melt into the safety of them. There's no heat behind it. No heavy breaths or searching hands. Just chaste, gentle and caring love. Safety.

They pull away before he's ready but place another kiss against his forehead. They sit on the bed beside him and pull his head against their chest. They whisper sweet nothings to him, promises of care and safety.

"I'm here, you're safe. All is well, everything is going to be okay. I'll protect you. I'll keep you safe." They hum into his hair.

He feels something stir within himself, and he makes a decision then and there. He may have broken his oaths, but he's making a new one to himself. Tav, the guardian of the world, the bringer of peace and safety. He's going to protect them with his life. He'll be there for any fight, any pain, any troubles. For the rest of their lives. He will be there. A gaurdian's gaurdian. And this oath, he will not break. No matter what.

#bg3 #baulders gate 3 #bg3 zevlor #bg3 spoilers #zevlor #tav x zevlor #zevlor x tav #zevlor/tav #tav/zevlor

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captainjacklyn · 4 months

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So this is part two of my first sagau post, I could turn this in a more detailed fic but knowing that it'll remain in my drafts to catch dust. I think I'll go against it and just give brief ideas for anyone who doesn't have my procrastination problem.

Now I was pretty vague about the other Primordials who watch over different realms as well as Teyvat. But I decided to give them their respective names and personalities (I suppose you can consider them OCs?) just so that we don't get too confused about the whole thing..

For a first born you have Barabath, at current times he's now an empty shell. He was the first realm to ever be created by you, born from an explosion of gas. And out of it poured a thousand dragons who all drank the fire of the first ever sun And yes I did steal that part from game of thrones, sue me. Each every one of them proceeded to descend upon their respective home, all seven of them forged from calamity. The world inhabited Erkanos (guardian of the earth), Belzo (guardian of the sky & stars), Lystéria (guardian of air & moisture), Akarnis (guardian of life), Erghyr (guardian of the mind), Steparyd (guardian of magic) and Valvers (guardian of decay). A war erupted between these gigantic yet majestic beast after your physical descent upon the lands. Their abilities were so great that it only doomed the realm after their final attack annihilated all that was left.

The second child did not end up passing like the former, you had managed to save him when disaster struck upon him. His name is Larbosa, and he is known as the god of wisdom, strength and honor. It was then that the first humans were created. So when you descended once more, they welcomed you with joy and love. But as centuries passed and wars for conquering broke out, people forgot about their creator to the point where all you became was a prize to win. You were sheltered in one of the old temples, its priestesses looked after you every passing millennium. Not as their creator, but as a simple individual who needed a place to stay. You were subsequently sold off to marry a warlord (do you see where this is going?), had three sons with him (whatever your gender is doesn't matter cause you are quite literally capable of anything), he passed, you took over, fell in love with a mortal who devoted him to you, he died, your mortal sons all perished in battle and once the people captured you, they dubbed you AN IMPOSTOR AND DISGRACE TO THE ALMIGHTY THEMSELF you were beheaded.

...

Yuh.

So what your children do when you die is that, your body will disintegrate and just turn into nothing. Then in order to in a sence 'reincarnate' you back into god hood, the realm needs to open itself and sacrifice its own part of you to rebuild you. You saved him because, you're the primordial why could you not, the first son is dead and you learn from your mistakes as a parent/jk. Larbosa is righteous and dutiful, as the second ever world to be created he takes great responsibility in aiding you. Most of the acolytes who follow him learn how to live a life of authority and perseverance through hard work. Like his second sister, he either speaks when spoken to or whenever something needs to be told. Dude is protective, will shove his arm so far up an enemy's ass it'll reach out of their mouth and wear them like a sleeve.

...Yarrhh I'm not cool today.

THIRD KID- THIS ONES A WOMAN! We have Alysia, goddess of love, beauty, and hatred. She's heavily based off of Hathor from Ennead, Aphrodite and Hera with a double personality. Because on one side she is the embodiment of what the 'ideal woman' was expected to be back in the olden days but on the other, her negative side goes against that entire facade of purity. One thing that she favors above anything else is lust, she loves toying with mortals and sees them as beings beneath her. Meanwhile you look after them like your own infants and it's something she uses to manipulate said mortals whenever they go against her judgement. Although she is is typically bright and cheery in public, she easily becomes flustered, particularly around strong beings, or when awkward situations occur. She does indeed become furious when people disrespect her or when she doesn't get her way. The only one who she holds the greatest respect for is her creator YOU, she is highly protective of YOU and will get frustrated when people use her love for YOU as a way to blackmail her. Alysia deeply cherishes her siblings though she has a tendency to call her younger sister a heartless little sh- they all get along, especially with Larbosa.

Second daughter I've mentioned in the past, holds the title of Cymbalia. Her people were known for their truthful justifications and judgment. They knew not of the creator as you were afraid that showing yourself to its collectives would cause yet another loss. Cymbalia, however, was fully aware of her birth-giver’s existence so she chose to be reborn in order to regain their godhood. Though she continued to watch over her people. This had been the first realm to survive complete wipe out but at the cost of being ignorant to your love for them. Cymbalia is mainly stern and focused, and she also often stands up to other powerful gods, like the former : Alysia or Larbosa. She isn’t afraid to speak her mind and utter her words of judgement at any given situation, this trait isn’t appreciated by her older sister who considers her a stickler for the rules. Cymbalia speaks in a assertive tone to display her power to those around her, whether it be a younger sibling or a simple acolyte. She can get especially irritating when commanding people, blackmailing them into obeying her orders. Strangely enough, she favors souls that go against the rules to reach new lengths, people like Il Dottore who quite literally break the laws of life. Goddess of Harmony, Truth and Justice.

Rhymar was the fourth attempt, once again unsuccessful. It only inhabited dry land with no life whatsoever, Rhymar felt insanely bored and began creating their own creatures which unfortunately resulted in a never ending time loop. You tried to help your child but Rhymar ended up insisting on their plans pushing its boundaries so far that the realm began to close in on itself (this was when the multiverse was created, Rhymar controlled the essence of time within himself and could rewind any event they deemed unfruitful). Leaving you no choice but to rebirth them and have their being ascend into godhood as well. Rhymar is quite sarcastic and unfazed, they are more sassy than straightforward. This was shown when you once tried to cheer up Alysia by telling her that she was doing a wonderful job but Rhymar had a change of heart and instead commented with : “I’d say no.” making their older sister feel terrible. Unafraid of defying the rules simply because they feel like doing so, Rhymar was baptized as the troublemaker in the family. When needing to apologize for anything they are stubborn enough to refuse unless their mother comes to them, requesting otherwise. They're the youngest kid, the most chaotic and the god of God of abundance, fertility and foresight.

so..

yeah.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAGHCHCGHCGCHCGHHCCCGEEEEUUUUUUUUGH-

#genshin impact sagau #sagau #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin impact cult au #cult au #genshin impact god reader

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heliads · 2 years

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Hi there, I absolutely love your stories !! The writing is just beautiful <3 I was wondering if I could request a hunger games fic? a finnick x reader, where they're in the arena and the reader got badly injured at the start and finnick has to help them survive through the game and the reader tells finnick to just leave them, but he doesn't want to, he wants them to make it out of the games together and it's all angsty but then they make it out alive to the transport safely and its a nice fluffy ending. I know you have a lot of requests for stories, so don't feel pressured to write this! Thank you for being such an amazing writer I love your work <3

ok so i didn't actually see the part about reader getting injured at the beginning so i simply had it happen at the end. sorry about that rip but i was 2.8k words in (out of 5k!) when i realized and it was too late to change it

masterlist

You only have a few minutes left before your life ends. After that, you have no idea how long you’ll last. Maybe you’ll be able to brave it out a few days. If you’re lucky, you’ll make it a week. Then again, if you don’t manage to survive the bloodbath at the Cornucopia, this could be your last hour alive. That’s how it always is in the Hunger Games, you suppose, the only difference is that this time you’re not watching but one of the tributes.

Your mentor is in front of you, one hand on your shoulder, trying to impart some last minute wisdom. You’re fairly sure that only stylists are meant to be down here right now, but your mentor is particularly known for his impressive bribes and so you’re treated to the final bit of coaching he can offer you.

Your mentor straightens his back, looking you dead in the eyes to inspire you as best he can. “Look, what happens out there is anyone’s game. Don’t let the Careers talk you into thinking differently. Just take it minute by minute.”

You nod mechanically. “Try not to die, basically. I got that part already.”

Your mentor forces a smile, like he’s mentally running through all the money he’s going to lose when you get out on the first day. “Hilarious. If you can, try and find an alliance you trust not to stab you in the back.”

You arch a brow. “Any ideas? Last time I checked, most people other than the tributes from the first three districts were sticking by themselves.”

“Actually,” your mentor comments, “I do. Find Finnick Odair, if you can. He’s someone you want to befriend.”

You choke back a laugh. “Everyone wants to befriend Finnick, the guy’s got all the sponsors practically eating out of his hand. What makes you think he’ll pick me for an ally and not another Career?”

Your mentor just shrugs. “You tell me. The training session in the Capitol was live streamed, as you know. Everyone saw Finnick looking at you. We couldn’t make out exactly what he said, if he said anything at all, but you’ve definitely got his attention.”

Your mentor gives you a questioning look, but if he wants to hear details about what went down during training, he’s going to be left as empty handed as every other watcher in the Capitol. You’re not even sure what happened during training, and you were there. All you know is that you were minding your own business, trying to refine a few skills before your inevitable death in the arena, and glanced up to see Finnick staring at you appraisingly.

He hadn’t given anyone else more than a quick glance, so naturally Caesar Flickerman and the other Games commentators jumped on that moment to speculate about a potential alliance. In truth, you don’t think it meant anything other than Finnick sizing up the competition.

And, even if Finnick had been interested by what he saw, it’s not like it would go anywhere. Finnick’s already popular enough in the Capitol due to his looks and inherent charm, he doesn’t need an ally to survive.

He especially doesn’t need you as an ally. The moment your name came up in the Reaping, you could practically see your death flashing before your eyes. You’re going to try as hard as you can to survive, obviously, but you don’t harbor any secret dreams about winning the Games. You might eke it out longer than a couple of days, but you have no chance of beating the combined forces of the Careers, Finnick, and a few of the other strong-looking tributes from the other districts.

Still, your mentor is only trying to give you hope, so you throw him a bone and nod in agreement. “I’ll see what I can do,” you say, and even though both of you know it means nothing, your mentor can at least walk away from this with a clean conscience. He tried to save you, and now that burden rests on your shoulders instead of his.

An electronic voice sounds out from a speaker embedded somewhere in the ceiling, telling you that you have thirty seconds to enter the circular pod in the back of the room so you can be transported up to the Games. Your mentor nods at you one last time.

“May the odds be ever in your favor,” he mutters.

If he says anything after that, you can’t make out a word of it. Plexiglass walls have shot up around you, blocking out any and all sounds other than the tumultuous beating of your heart. The metal surface of the floor beneath your feet starts to lift, and just like that, you’re entering the arena.

A few seconds later, you’re blinking in bright sunlight. You can see the other twenty-three tributes arranged in a massive circle around the Cornucopia, which seems filled to the brim with all sorts of necessary supplies. The other tribute from your faction is somewhere to your side, and across the circle you see sunlight sparking on golden blond hair. Finnick.

You don’t have much time to stare at him, though. A countdown is echoing through the arena, ten then nine then eight. You have to make a plan quickly, or end up dying in the bloodbath about to ensue. The timer reaches zero, and then you’re off with the rest, charging towards the Cornucopia in the hopes of getting at least something to save your life.

There’s a small bag, gunmetal gray, lying in the tall grass, and although it can’t hold much you race for it anyway. Another boy tries to reach it at the same time, but you get there first. Grabbing the strap of the bag, you swing it at his head. It connects with a heavy thud and he goes down like a stone. Seconds later, a knife thuds into his sternum and he’s gone for good.

The sight makes your panic flare again, and you turn and sprint away from the Cornucopia without another thought. A few older tributes try to follow you, but you’re high on the adrenaline of trying not to die so you’re able to lose them. The tall grass melts into denser brush a few paces away, and you hurry into its protective shade.

After that, the only thing you can do is try to get away. The most dangerous tributes will be commandeering the Cornucopia, and once they tire of that bloodshed, they’ll start searching for individual people in the thickets. Your best shot at survival lies with getting as far away from them as possible while you still have time.

Your feet thud on packed earth, sending up sprays of dust that stick to your shoes. The jacket you’re wearing shines with some sort of reflective material, which makes you wonder if the nights get cold out here and you’ll need the warmth. With the sun shining, it’s plenty hot right now, but that could change once the light leaves.

Everything could change when the light leaves you. Surviving the bloodbath at the Cornucopia was a very important step, but from here, it will only get harder. You’ll have to find food and water, all the while trying not to die from the fists or blades of vengeful tributes.

It seems like an impossible task, and it most likely is, so you distract yourself with survival tasks to keep your mind off of your imminent death. There are plenty of hanging vines and sturdy plants around the area, so you start to make some rope out of carefully knotted stalks and stems. It can help you make a hammock for sleeping, or if worst comes to worst, a tourniquet to stop at least some bleeding.

You manage to find a good position tucked in the hollow roots of a large tree, and keep your hands busy while you watch the surrounding area for any signs of trouble. A few other tributes have come streaking past you, always running off into the distance without catching sight of you. A few times, they’ve been followed by other tributes. Most of those encounters end violently.

By the time the first night comes, you’re feeling fairly proud of yourself. You’ve got a shelter and some basic supplies, thanks to the bag you managed to snag. According to the images projected onto the sky, ten tributes have already died, including the other tribute from your faction. You would mourn, but you never really knew the other tribute all that well. They were just another stranger in this crowd of two dozen that underwent the misfortune of having their names pulled in the reaping.

The goal is to stay out of the melee and thus stay alive, but that only works until noon of the second day. You dared to venture out of your hiding place to get some more water, and a boy from District Seven materialized out of the brush, eyes locked on you. For a fleeting moment, you allow yourself to entertain the hope that he might not want to kill you, but then he grabs a hunting knife from his belt and lunges at you.

You turn and start running as fast as you can. The boy is hot on your heels, and it’s all you can do to not lose any distance between the two of you. You can’t run like this forever, and after a few minutes you can already feel yourself slowing due to the rocky terrain and lack of proper food in the arena.

A sudden idea occurs to you, and you dart past your shelter long enough to grab something from the hollow in the tree roots. It costs you a few seconds, which is enough for the boy to catch up to you once again. He grins, displaying crooked and cracked teeth.

“Hold still,” he says, but you don’t give him enough time to finish the threat.

Instead, you hurl the woven net you’d taken from your shelter at him. The edges are weighted down with stones, and it leaves him stumbling to remove the twisted knots. You grab the net and wrap it more around the boy’s arms, knocking the hunting knife from his grasp.

He flails at you, knocking both of you to the ground. The boy is starting to get the net off, too, and when your hand closes around the hunting knife that had fallen to your side, you start to mentally prepare yourself to use it.

You never get the chance. Just as you start to raise the knife, a spear thuds into the boy’s chest. His head snaps back, and then he’s still. You stare at the dead boy, then slowly raise your gaze until you find your supposed savior.

Of all the people you expected to help you out, you’re surprised to find Finnick Odair standing before you. He yanks the spear from the boy’s chest, wiping the bloodied tip carefully on the ground by his feet, then plants the metal shaft in the ground and leans against it idly.

You remain still, hardly daring to make a move lest he remember that you’re still a tribute and he could spear you just as easily as he had the other boy.

Finnick opens his mouth to speak, but it isn’t to issue a threat. Instead, his voice is thoughtful. “That’s a nice net,” he mentions contemplatively, “Great knots. You whipped that up fast. I think I want to ask for some pointers.”

You stare up at him. “If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with.” A spear to the chest wouldn’t be the worst way to go. Judging by the other boy, it’ll be fast. The other tributes may not give you that sort of blessing.

Finnick refuses to act on this, though. “Kill you? Why would I kill you? I was very clearly talking about this net. I don’t know where you got the idea that we’re killing people.”

You arch a brow. “Perhaps it was the spear still in your hand. You know, the one you just used to kill the other boy.”

Finnick chuckles once, evidently unbothered by this. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. I’m not trying to kill you, though. I was trying to save you. You’re welcome, by the way.”

You frown. “Why would you want to save me?”

A slow smile spreads across his face. “I want us to be allies.”

With that, he jams the butt of his spear into the ground, using it as a counterbalance to reach down and extend a hand to you. You consider the outstretched palm for a second, then take it. Finnick pulls you up surprisingly easily, and seems pleased that you’ve accepted his offer.

You’re still not entirely sure you want to trust him, however. “Why would you want me as an ally?”

“You seem smart,” Finnick says simply, “I want someone who’s going to make sure we’re not going to run headlong into danger for no reason. Plus, I want more nets.”

The nets thing actually does make sense. You remember hearing that Finnick was from District Four, fishing, so he’s probably been around nets and tridents his whole life. They do quite well for killing people, as the two of you just demonstrated a few minutes ago.

Your mentor’s words flash through your head. Find Finnick Odair. Well, you have now. He’d better be pleased.

At last, you nod. “Alright, then. Allies it is.”

Finnick claps you on the back. “Excellent. We’re going to make a marvelous team.”

As surprising as it sounds, Finnick is right. The two of you actually get along quite well, and you both have different survival tips and tricks that you teach the other. The whole net-and-spear tactic takes out another few tributes during that day.

Even still, you can tell Finnick is itching for more. That night, he leads you towards a flat clearing near the Cornucopia. Setting up a camp there would be suicide for anyone, but the Careers are enough of a threat that they even have a fire going.

Finnick whispers something in your ear. “We need to start getting them out. I’m thinking we do it one by one. It’s stupid to rush all of them at once, so if we get one here and there while they’re alone, that should work.”

You incline your head, studying the camp. “Which one should we kill first?”

Finnick’s brow furrows as he considers the firelit figures. “The leader. Colt Hardhill, the blond one that keeps strutting about like he owns the place.”

You follow his gaze to where Colt, a muscular District Two tribute, regales the other Careers with conversation that may not be particularly insightful but makes up for it in volume.

“Actually,” you counter, “I don’t think Colt is the leader.”

Finnick frowns. “Then who is?”

You jerk your chin towards a smaller boy in Colt’s shadow, literally. You recognize his name from the rankings, Lark Steelgrave. He doesn’t say much, but has a way of sticking to Colt no matter what.

“Look at that one. Colt may be the public figure, but Lark’s pulling all the strings. If we take him out, they’ll all be stumbling like headless chickens without somebody to tell them what choices to make.”

As the two of you watch, Lark says something offhandedly about making sure that they have enough stores of firewood so their clothes stay dry. A few moments later, Colt’s voice booms out across the campfire that they should all get more firewood so their gear doesn’t don’t mold. Lark doesn’t look angry that Colt is stealing his thunder, far from it. In fact, the boy’s teeth flash in a pleased grin.

Finnick whistles under his breath. “He’s been putting ideas in the guy’s head all along. Colt is like Lark’s puppet.” He glances over at you, smiling in earnest this time. “See, what did I tell you? I need you for your genius ideas.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t seem to stop a grin from surfacing. “I’m no genius, Finnick. I love a good compliment, but at least keep them somewhat realistic.”

Finnick laughs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, that was perfectly realistic to me. Every day, I never cease to be amazed by your intellectual capabilities.”

You snort. “Now you really are being excessive. Anyone could have seen that Lark was up to something.”

Finnick shakes his head. “Not me. I would have taken out the wrong guy, remember?” His face falls for a second as he realizes something. “You still don’t believe that I want you as my ally, do you?”

You sigh. “It’s hard to picture it. You can get that, can’t you? You’re the one with dozens of sponsors raining gifts down on you every day. What is it about me that makes you think you want me as a partner? You could have been with the Careers if you wanted to.”

Finnick’s lips purse. “You really can’t see it? Y/N, I trust you more than anyone else here.”

You stare at him beseechingly. “Why? The only time we’ve ever even seen each other before this was in that training session, and we barely talked at all then.”

Finnick spreads his hands. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Everyone else wanted to win me over in the hopes of getting some of my sponsors, or extracting a partnership that they could use to stab me in the back the first chance they got. You, on the other hand, looked at me once and couldn’t care less. You weren’t bothering with their faux showmanship, so I knew then and there that I wanted you as an ally.”

“And what about the Careers?” You ask, careful to keep your tone neutral even though your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest, “You could have stayed with them and stabbed them in the back before they killed you. My apathy isn’t exactly a strong point in my favor.”

He grins in spite of himself. “Of course it is. You’ve been a friend, Y/N, a real friend during all of this. You think they would make this half as fun? When I’m with you, I don’t feel afraid of the fact that there are twenty-two other tributes all trying to kill us. I just feel normal.”

“And what if I end up stabbing you in the back, just like the rest?” You hazard.

Finnick lifts a shoulder. “I’d rather have it be you than anyone else.”

His tone is light, but his eyes lock onto yours, deadly serious. You realize with a shock that he’s telling the truth.

“Well,” you say cautiously, “I’d rather die by your hands than anyone else. I knew that from when we met for the first time in the arena.”

Finnick smiles, remembering that initial day. “You genuinely thought I was going to kill you. It was funny.”

You swat him in the shoulder, although it only makes his grin broaden. “Of course I did. You had speared somebody ten seconds earlier and you were standing over me with a bloody weapon in your hands. What else could have possibly happened?”

“You mean you don’t look at people pointing weapons at you and think they’ll make good friends?” Finnick asks, teeth flashing in the dark as he laughs.

“Of course I don’t,” you return, “I’m not crazy.”

“What, and I am?” Finnick pretends to look outraged. “I’m hurt, Y/N. I thought I trusted you, and you’re calling me crazy.”

“Perhaps you are,” you counter, “you chose to be friends with me, didn’t you?”

“Ah, but I don’t regret that in the slightest.” Finnick says.

Your laughter trails off quietly. There’s something about the way he’s looking at you, blond curls turned almost silver in the moonlight, that makes you feel something more than fear. Your heart’s pounding, but for the first time since you entered the Arena, it’s not out of terror that you’re about to die. Far from it.

Finnick takes a half step closer, and just as you’re sure that the two of you are about to do something you’ll regret, his eyes flicker to the side and he freezes in his tracks. You follow his gaze, glancing over his shoulder, and notice a red light blinking steadily in the shade of a tree. A Capitol camera, broadcasting all of this live to the watching masses.

You step back just as quickly as Finnick does. For a moment, you forgot that this is all televised, that there was anyone else in this world except the two of you. Reality comes crashing down as it always must, but for a moment there, you really thought something was going to happen, something that you would welcome just as gladly as Finnick.

Neither you nor Finnick talk about that moment, and soon enough, it fades back into the distant past. The two of you are able to take out Lark when the boy is alone checking the traps, and after that, Colt goes haywire. The Careers fracture for the first time, and thanks to a few well timed kills, you and Finnick are able to eliminate a few more of your enemies.

During the last attack, though, you don’t get away as easily as you should have. Finnick was grimly efficient thanks to the fantastic gift of a trident sent in by one of his sponsors, but even despite all of his success he wasn’t quite fast enough to save you from one of the Careers lodging their knife into your leg.

It hurt like hell, obviously, and you were able to kill the Career and push their body off of you, but the damage is done. Blood is pouring down your leg, and you don’t even dare remove the knife until you’re back at the base you and Finnick set up a few days ago.

Finnick turns to you once the last Career ran off, and you don’t think you’ll ever forget the way he looked once he realized that you were hurt. He has always been this positive, joking boy, but at that moment every drop of happiness left him. Even that familiar spark vanished from his eyes, leaving his stare cold and tormented. It was like he was the one bleeding out, not you.

He’d rushed to you immediately, not bothering to let you even try to put weight on the leg but picking you up bridal style. Finnick raced back to your camp, where the two of you tried to salvage the injury as best you could. It’s bad, that much is obvious, but luckily the two of you have accrued a fair amount of medicine from both sponsors and raiding other tributes’ camps.

Still, it’s a pretty bad injury, which spells out a clear weakness. Finnick is still fussing about trying to tie the bandage just right, but you place your hands on his, stopping him from doing anything more.

“Don’t,” you say quietly, “you know what this means. I’m not really in fighting form anymore.”

Finnick eyes you tentatively. “What does that mean?” His voice is casual, but surely he must know what you’re hinting at, because he’s suddenly gone still.

You sigh. “You know what it means, Finnick. You can’t afford to have me slowing you down, not when you’re so close to winning. There are only a few tributes left, you can take them out if you time it right. Go finish this, Finnick. Leave me here.”

Finnick shakes his head mechanically. “I can’t do that. If anyone finds you here, they’ll kill you. I’m not letting that happen.”

You squeeze his hands. “It was going to happen anyway. I’ve fought it off for a while, especially thanks to you, but my death was inevitable. You’ve still got a shot, though. I always wanted you to win.”

“No,” Finnick says, voice ragged, “I’m not doing this. I’m not leaving you.”

You laugh quietly, the sound so bittersweet that he flinches. “You don’t have a choice. There’s only one Victor, remember? One of us was always going to have to die. If you leave now, at least it means that both of us won’t lose our lives, only me.”

Finnick remains silent, and for a second you think you’ve managed to convince him before a new light of determination flares to life in his eyes. “Not a chance. They can have two Victors, they’ll make it happen for us. I will make it happen.”

You realize what he’s hinting at. Finnick has considerable sway in the Capitol, as evident from his numerous sponsors. If he refused to kill you, there’s a good chance that a lot of the Capitol heirs would stand by him.

You start to shake your head, but Finnick raises a finger to silence any and all opposition. “Don’t even try to argue. I’m not letting you go, sweetheart. Not a chance.”

You scan his face, but find no signs of change. He’s standing by his decision, even if it gets him killed. At last, you just exhale slowly.

“Alright, then. You really are out of your mind, you know that?”

Finnick cracks a grin at last, but there’s a haunted edge to it that wasn’t there before. “Of course I know that. I’m rather proud of it, too.”

Despite Finnick’s best hopes, both of you know that the odds of you making it out aren’t that great anymore. Over the next few hours, Finnick takes trips out of the shelter to take out solitary tributes. You stay back and try to make sure your leg doesn’t fall off, fixing knives and mending nets and doing anything you can to be useful.

At last, there are only three tributes left: you, Finnick, and one of the Careers who’d managed to elude your combined wrath all this time. The Gamemakers must want a showdown, because they arrange for the ground to start cracking and crumbling beneath your feet, forcing the three of you towards the central plains where you’d started the game. You limp as fast as you can, watching the ground where you’d once stood fall away like an avalanche.

Eventually, the three of you are left on the plain, the rest of the ground gone, stranding you as easily as an island. You’re holding a knife in each hand, and Finnick has his trident. The final Career has a sword, but judging by the way his hands are slick with sweat, he’s been injured too.

Still, he puts up a good fight. It takes both you and Finnick giving every drop of your energy to take out the final guy, and when it’s done, the two of you collapse on the ground, breathing so hard you think your ribs might pierce your lungs.

Your wound has reopened, but Finnick pulls you close anyway, heedless of the blood streaking both of your clothes.

“I meant what I said,” he murmurs, “I’m not letting you go. You hear that?” Finnick raises his voice to a shout, staring straight at the nearest camera, “We’re not killing each other! Two victors just this once, alright? You can make an exception this once.”

It must be a testament to Finnick’s popularity in the Capitol that the stunt actually works. A transport appears overhead, the grass nearby bent almost all the way over due to the force of the circling wind. You don’t entirely remember how you got in, only that there was a sharp prick in your arm like a needle and then the entire world fell away from you.

When you wake up, you almost think you’re hallucinating. The bleached white walls and beeping devices beside you make no sense, and then you remember that you actually did it. You and Finnick won the Hunger Games. Glancing around, you realize you’re in a small room holding only you and a few other doctors, although the door to the hall outside has been left ajar.

You can hear shouting from outside. Curious, you leave your hospital bed, padding quietly to the door and pushing it open. You start to limp out of instinct, but you discover that you actually have no pain, and when you lift the edge of your hospital gown to check, your leg appears completely healed.

The commotion in the hall outside grows in volume, so you creep out of the door and follow the sound. Down the hall, you notice that a young man about your age also dressed in a hospital gown appears to have broken out of his own room and is currently trying to fight off a couple of beleaguered doctors. He’s shouting about seeing someone, and then he turns and you recognize him at last.

Finnick catches sight of you at about the same time, and his face lifts with such hope that it makes you smile. He pushes away from the doctors and races to you, wrapping you up in a hug that lifts you off of the ground a few inches.

He whispers something against your temples as he sets you gently back down on the ground. “I was so worried. I woke up and you weren’t there, and I thought–I thought–”

Finnick’s voice trails off, but you know what he means. Finnick was terrified that Snow had taken matters into his own hands and punished him for trying to have two Victors by killing you off the second you were separated.

You’re alive, though, blessedly alive. “I’m here, Finnick,” you reply, “I’m fine. We’re both fine.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, then your cheek, then your lips. “Don’t you ever leave me,” he says, and you smile.

“I won’t,” you promise, and it’s an oath that you don’t mind keeping. You and Finnick have a great many years left in store for you, and you intend on living all of them out together.

temp thg tag list: it's the boy i told you about @thatfangirl42

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rileyslibrary · 1 year

Text

Living With Ghosts: 8. GOON LAD

You’ve been fiddling with that folded paper for two days now. You should read it and put an end to your agony for good. Just get it out of the way. Read what he has to say.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,170

Notes:

You know what?? Here, *throws the chapter at you* take it! You can have it! I can’t keep it to myself anymore. As for the final chapter, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait till…you’ll see.

Don’t bother reading this if you haven’t kept up with the story. You’ll waste your time.

Fluff.

Entire work on AO3

Table of Contents

———————————————————————

“He’s not coming, kid.”

“I don’t believe you, Captain,” you murmur as you look out the Embassy’s window, “he can’t just vanish like that.”

“Denial doesn’t help, my dear.” He stands behind you, his thumbs holding the straps of his tactical vest. You can see his reflection through the window; he appears calm, but you can tell that the recent events have taken him aback. Price also had a close relationship with Laswell, and the realisation was just as devastating for him as it was for you.

“I know Simon,” he adds, “and this is what he does: he gets recruited, does the job, and then disappears until the next time his services are required.”

What are you supposed to do now? Wait till the next time he gets hired? When, if ever, will this happen again? You can’t wish misfortune upon the world for the probability of seeing him.

“At least you have that note,” he cheerfully adds, pointing at the folded paper in your hands, “maybe it can give you some closure.”

“I haven’t looked at it yet,” you mutter, staring at it.

“I know.” He nods his head.

“I’m scared to do so.”

“I know,” he repeats.

So, this is what he does, huh? Of course, you should have known—No! You already knew! What were you thinking, falling in love with a wild animal? People like him can’t—and shouldn’t—be tamed. On the contrary, they live a solitary life, ready to die without leaving anyone behind to mourn them.

You stupid idiot, you hopeless romantic fool. Why can’t you find someone with a regular 9-to-5 job, a 401(k), and life insurance—not a death sentence? Someone who will come home exhausted from crunching numbers, not bones. Someone who, on the weekends, will clean his car on the porch instead of his assault rifle.

Why can’t you find someone normal?

You take a look around. Price has left the room, leaving you to your own devices.

As much as you hate admitting it, he is right. You’ve been fiddling with that folded paper for two days now. You should read it and put an end to your agony for good. Just get it out of the way. Read what he has to say.

You begin to pace around the empty room with the note in your hands, trying to build up the courage to read it. Do it and then throw it away—burn it if necessary.

But you’re scared. Two days ago, you used to live together, sharing the same space, using the same cutlery, and breathing the same air. Now, this piece of paper is the only thing connecting you two.

Fuck! Just stop procrastinating and read the fucking letter already.

You return to the window, close your eyes and take a few deep breaths. What’s the worst that can happen?

You unfold the piece of paper, look down and begin to read:

kid,

i’m writing this in a hurry, so i apologise for the mistakes you might find along the way.

first of all, that experimental lasagna you did on the 20th of february was shite, i thought you should know. never do that again—you might kill someone.

other than that, Very few words can Express my Never-ending and Immense appreciation for your Caring and Exciting personality.

call me a GOON LAD if you wish, but i hope that one day we will meet again under normal circumstances—when everyone will wear a mask but you and i.

lt.

And, as the sun shines through the window and bathes you with its rays and warmth, you remember him—his embrace, his scent, his words.

“There can’t be any “us”, love, not in this place.”

You break out laughing. Laughter turns into tears, then giggles then sobs again. You place your hand over your mouth, muffling any audible reaction as you study the letter again.

See, if it had been any other person—a normal one—they would have viewed that letter as a tribute to your relationship during the past few months.

But you’re not normal, are you?

No, you’re a CIA agent. And, while you may lack some basic combat training, you have other skills; decoding encrypted messages was one of them, for example. An ability of yours that Simon was well aware of.

You scan the note again, your gaze bouncing from letter to letter, word to word, sentence to sentence. You grab a blank piece of paper and sit on the ground, placing the letter in front of you. It’s time to put your mind to work.

“i apologise for the mistakes you might find along the way.” He’s implying that you will find mistakes in the letter. Perhaps he even insinuates that you shouldn’t ignore them. He wants you to find them.

“that experimental lasagna you did on the 20th of february was shite.” You first met him in September. In February, he was a stranger to you. Unless he’s referring to the 20th of February next year—it’s a meet-up.

“Very few words can Express my Never-ending and Immense appreciation for your Caring and Exciting personality.” That is the only sentence in which letters are in title case. It appears to be a backronym—a reverse acronym. Very, Express, Never-ending, Immense, Caring, Exciting. VENICE.

“call me a GOON LAD.” GOON LAD is in capital letters. It must be an anagram of some sort. You begin writing any seven-letter gibberish that comes to mind, attempting to find the one he insinuates. Was it GANLOOD? LOODGAN? No, these are not words. What about DONGOLA? No! What does Sudan have to do with Venice? Think Venice, think Venice... GONDOLA—“call me a gondola.”

“when everyone will wear a mask but you and i.”Masks; the carnival. He’s talking about the Venice Carnival.

“Call for a gondola on the 20th of February at the Venice Carnival.”

You run to the other room where the Captain is. He looks at you with a smirk hidden beneath his thick moustache.

“Read the letter, I see?” He says with raised eyebrows.

“You knew?!” You look at him in disbelief, eyes wide open.

“He told me about you; claimed you’re equally as bright as a pain in the ass.” He shrugs.

“I have to leave!” You scream, unable to contain your excitement.

“Darling, it’s December,” he laughs, “and you have to stay here for a few more weeks till things settle down. Don’t forget that you, too, have a bounty on your head.”

You sigh and slouch in frustration. “What should we do until then?” You ask.

“How about some tea to begin with?” He suggests.

“Ah! A cuppa!” You imitate the British accent with which you used to tease him.

He chuckles. “I never thought I’d see the light of day for when Riley would fall for someone,” he says as he fills the kettle with water. “That lad is, indeed, a goon.”

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Final ->

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #Cod mw2 #simon riley #cod ghost

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whynot-tryit · 2 years

Text

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie’s van has always been his ride or die, and on this one Friday, his wingman.

Warnings: none just cuteness.

I am a hardcore believer that Eddie is secretly a hopeless romantic and no one can convince me otherwise.

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Eddie Munson had a crush and a huge one at that. He couldn’t help but look for you in the crowd of the cafeteria and the school hallways. He had one class with you last year and it’s safe to say he didn’t pass but he memorized the curve of your ankles when you crossed them under the desk and how you flipped a pencil through your fingers on one hand when you tried to keep busy while doing your work.

He’s only known you for a few months, having met you when you tagged along with one of your friends to buy some weed off of him and he thought that would be the first and last time he’d ever talk to you but you kept coming back, sometimes to buy and sometimes just to sit, smoke, and talk. Every time one of your friends poked at you for associating with the man you just rolled your eyes, said something snarky and Eddie would come out with a new reason to fall in love with you. He had been building up the courage to finally ask you out but he just couldn’t get the chance to be alone with you.

He was secretly a hopeless romantic. He remembered picking flowers out of his neighbors yard one time to give them to his middle school crush and getting his head screamed off by them right after.

After contemplating how he’d ask you out he came to a conclusion. He stayed up one night and put together a mixtape, just some songs he thought you’d like, some he’s heard you blasting out of your car radio while pulling into the school parking lot.

Eddie has been holding off on giving it to you for a while, it’s just been sitting on the floor of his van in a small box along with the rest of his tapes. He sends a look to the box under the passenger seat of the van. It’s a Friday and school has let out about fifteen minutes ago.

“How about we stop and get some beers for tonight, baby?” Eddie says while he raises his hand and give a couple taps to the dashboard. Was Eddie the type to talk to his car? Yes, yes he was. Would anyone ever know? Nope, never.

Eddie turns the steering wheel making a right towards the gas station. A whirring noise starts over powering the sound of Sweet Child O’ Mine playing on the radio. “What the fuck.” Eddie looks down at his speedometer and his eyes glance at the odometer, “oh come on baby, right now?”. The Odometer is fluctuating and that is not suppose to be a good thing. Eddie turns left on the first street he sees, heading home hoping to make it home in time for the van to break down in a more convenient place. As soon as he makes its halfway down the street, the noise stops. When his eyes lift up from the odometer he sees you. You’re walking on the side of the road, headed the same direction as him.

Fuck, why is she walking home. She usually always catches a ride with someone. Eddie doesn’t have any time to chicken out and makes his way to stop a few feet ahead of you on the other side of the road and rolls down the window.

“Hey, do you want a ride?” You lift your head up from looking down at your feet and stop walking and look at Eddie whose head it hanging out of the window of his van.

“Eddie? What are you doing here?” You have walked this street before trying to get home after school and have never seen him drive by before.

“I was making my way home.” He flexes and un-flexes his right hand on the stirring wheel, left hand now against the side of the van out of the window. “Don’t you live pretty far? It’s gonna get dark soon.” You sigh and know its true but you think you might make it home in time before the sun goes down. “I think I’ll be okay, I should be able to make it in time.” You say now fully facing him from across the street. Before you can continue by thanking him for the offer you hear the radio and what sounds like the news channel anchorman speak up, “watch out folks looks like we’ll be getting a rainstorm in a few minutes, should be short. Looks like its one of those April showers.”

Eddie swings his head towards the radio and stares at it, when did he change the station, he never listens to the weather channel. He turns back around to you and raises an eyebrow. You stay still, not knowing what to make of a surprise rainstorm. Fuck, you know you didn’t want to walk in the rain.

“I mean if you want to walk the rest of the way while its pouring, be my guest. It was nice seeing you sweetheart!” Eddie takes his foot off the break pedal and makes it about five feet down the road before you shout.

“Wait!” Eddie stops the van again, craning his head out the window again to look back at you and sends you a smile. You start to walk to his van making your way around the back to come up to the passenger side door. You open it and slide in. You turn you head to look at Eddie and see he’s already looking at you.

“Thank you, Eddie.”

“It’s my pleasure, sweetheart.”

He takes his foot off the break again and makes his way down the road. “You can pick a station to listen to if you want.” Eddie say, trying to make you comfortable during the drive. “Do you have any tapes?” You ask, not really being a radio station kind of person. “Yeah they’re right under your seat.” You reach down under the seat and feel a box and grab it, pulling it into your laps. “Damn, this is quite a collection.” You skim your hand along the spins of the tapes. “Oh my god, is that a Madonna tape I see?”

Eddie whips his head towards you, a blush already spreading across his cheeks. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“That’s weird because I’m actually holding it in my hand right now.” You can’t contain the laughter that raises up in your throat. You look at Eddie, waiting for some explanation, not being able to to tone tone down the smile on your face. The Eddie Munson listens to Madonna. “Like a prayer is a decent song, alright. Don’t judge me.” He reaches over and takes the tape out of your hand and puts in the under compartment on your side of the van.

As soon as the tape was gone and the compartment was closed you hear the pitter patter of the rain starting to hit the roof of the van. “Guess the weather man was right. Thanks again, I don’t know what I would do if I got caught in this.” You say looking over at him again.

Before Eddie can reply, the whirring noise from earlier starts back up again. “Oh come, you have got to be kidding me.” Eddie gives a few hard slaps to the top of the dashboard above the steering wheel. The van starts slowing down before coming to a spluttering stop. “Oh fuck me.” Eddie puts his face in his hands before looking up at you with what was an almost painful look on his face. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know whats wrong with her.” He gestured to the center of the dashboard. “Maybe she just needs a few minutes.” You sigh, you were really looking forward to getting home as soon as possible and lounging in your pajamas. “It’s alright, we can stay in here to stay out of the rain. Turn the engine off and give her some time to rest, we’ll try her again after a bit.” You say. You sigh again and slide back into the cushions of the van’s seats while Eddie takes the key out of the ignition and puts in the center console.

A blanket of silence falls over the two of you, the sound of the rain outside being the only thing you can hear.

“Soooooo, like a prayer, huh?” You say, looking at Eddie through the corner of your eye. Eddie snorts, “please don’t tell anyone, I would never be able to live that down.”

“I won’t tell anyone, I promise. It’ll be my way of making it up to you for you offering me a ride.”

You gasp, coming up with an idea and Eddie looks at you while you start rummaging through your bag. You take out your walk man and unplug your headphones from it and put them back in your bag. “We could listen to some music while we wait.” You say gesturing to the walkman in your hand. A smile spreads across Eddie’s face and you can’t hold back the one that appears on yours too. “I like the way you think.”

You pick up the box of tapes you had put back on the floor when the van broke down and start skimming the tapes. Eddie scoots a bit closer to scan his collection. Theres one tape that catches your eye and pick it out of the bunch, “this one isn’t labeled, what is it?” Eddie looks at the tape in your hand and freezes, its the mixtape he made you. You turn it over your hand and see the slip of tape on the flat side of it.

For Y/n.

You read the label, confused. Looking up at Eddie you see his face, he looks absolutely embarrassed.

“Ummm... I actually made that, um for you- for your birthday.” Eddie tries to make up an excuse, scratching the back of his neck. You smile, a warm feeling building up in your chest. “My birthday isn’t until next week, Eddie”

“I know, I know. I just- ummm, like to get ahead on gifts, you know.”

“Awwww Eddie, you didn’t have to get me anything. Let alone actually make me something.” You flip it over in you hands again, looking it over. “Is this a mixtape or like something you actually made?”

“Oh no, it’s not my music. It’s just a mixtape of some songs I think you’d like.”

“You think you have my music taste figured out?”

“No, no..... I just-ummm, chose some songs that came to my head when I thought of you.”

Fuck, he’s screwed. Who makes mixtape’s for their friends? No one, they make them for people they’re madly in love with. You look at the tape in your hand with new found fondness and move your head to look at Eddie.

“This might just be the sweetest thing someone has ever done for me.” You grasp it in both hands and hold it to your chest. Eddie feels like his heart is about to burst, can you get any cuter?

“Let’s listen to it!”

FUCK, if he wasn’t screwed when you first found it he definitely is now. Before he can oppose to the idea you put it into your walkman, shut it and press play.The music fills up the space of the van and Eddie holds his breath.

You hear the beat and the first few words of the song and throw your head back laughing so hard you feel tears start to sting in the corners of your eyes.

Been working so hard, I’m punching my card, eight hours, for what

Footloose by Kenny Loggins was not a song you would ever picture Eddie listening too and you think back to when you told him during a walk to your car after school that Footloose was your favorite movie and that you often rewatch it when you’re feeling down. Looking up at Eddie you give him the biggest smile you think you ever had. He can’t help but mirror it, he loved the way your lips would curve and how cute your teeth were.

“I thought you’d enjoy it, since you know, it’s from your favorite movie.” Eddie says. You nod your head, smile still not faltering. “I love it. I actually listen it on my way to school like all the time.” Eddie lets out a breath, happy his song choices are going okay but he still feels a not in his stomach, knowing that if you play the whole tape in front of him you might not like his last song choices.

“So every time you hear or see footlose you think of me?”

“I mean I don’t hear it that often but yes, yes I do.”

The song slowly but surely comes to an end and you wait to see what else he’s picked out for you. The sound of drums fill your ears and the singing starts up after a few second of just the drums.

I use to think maybe you loved me, now baby I’m sure, and I just can’t wait till the day when you knock on my door

You furrow your brows, not really knowing this song too well and confused as to why Eddie would associate you with this song, looking up at him. “Oh it’s umm- walking on sunshine by Katrina and the waves.” Eddie says while scratching the back of his neck. “Why did you choose this one?” Eddie feels at lost for words, how was he suppose to tell you that he thought of how bright your smile was and that this song perfectly described how he saw you when you would walk towards him. “I just.... I thought it went with your personality.”

“I have a sunshine like personality?”

Eddie shyly nods, dipping his head a bit to try to get his hair to cover his cheeks to hide the blush on his face. You look down at your lap to the tape, you always were a little scared that people found you annoying, finding it hard to make friends since you were a kid and hearing Eddie say that pulled at your heart strings.You let out a small chuckle and looked up eyes filled with some tears but none spilling over yet. Eddie’s face morphed into surprise and concern, siting up straight and darting out a hand to lay it on your shoulder. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Is it a bad song? It is isn’t it? Fuck, I didn’t want you to cry! I can open the window and you can throw it out and smash it.” Eddie says rambling a tad bit. You let out a smile and shake your head, willing yourself to blink away the tears. “No I don’t hate it I just really appreciate you saying that about me, it means a lot.” Eddie’s heart feels like its about to burst out of his chest.

The music slowly fades out but the two of you barely notice, keeping the gaze of your eyes going well into a couple seconds of the next song. You don’t even need to hear the words to the song, it takes just three seconds of the intro for you to throw you head back with a groan and hit the pause button on your walkman. With your head still back against the head rest of the set you turn your head to look at Eddie.

“Are you kidding me? Elton John? You know how I feel about him.” Finishing off your sentence with a laugh. Eddie remembered you telling him how big of an Elton John fan your mother was and every time you heard his voice you’d get flashbacks from her waking you up to get ready to clean the house. He smiles and chuckles.

“I just put it in there to add some spice, and you know to reassure you that I actually do listen to you when you talk about random stuff.” He put it on there when he thought about the time out in the woods behind school while you guys were smoking. You were going off on a tangent and had mentioned your mothers obsession with the singer and once you caught yourself talking about it you turned to him and apologized for talking about it, thinking he probably found it annoying. Eddie waved it off but he saw the look on your face and he could tell, you usually held back on stuff you talked about, scared of what other people might think. You didn’t know what to think, the flutter of your heart and the heat you feel starting to creep up your face leave you speechless.

You had started harboring a small crush on Eddie sometime during your second hang out smoke sesh. You didn’t think he could like you, he was this whole different person, he hung out with different people, but you couldn’t help but like him. But Eddie was harboring more than just a crush on you and you had no idea. He didn’t know when you were gonna connect the dots on the songs he chose, he didn’t want to be there when you did, scared that you were going to reject him, scream, call him a creep.

You skip the song, going straight to the next one and to your surprise it’s back in black by AC/DC. You already know why Eddie chose this song. There was a day you had promised to meet Eddie behind the school but you didn’t show up and he hadn’t seen you at school all day, worried something might be wrong he made the drive to your place and knocked on the door. You opened it and Eddie rambled on about how you hadn’t shown and he was worried and how he didn’t want you to think he was weird for driving all the way to your place to check on you. You remembered how it warmed your heart to see how worried he was about you. You explained that your little brother got the flu and your mom had to go into work and didn’t want him leave him alone. Eddie let out a sigh of relief and was about to make his way back to his car when he heard the song playing from the back of your house. Back in black. He couldn’t help the look of surprise and adored the look of slight embarrassment that made its way to your face. That was the day he discovered you had somethings in common and it made him fall for you even more.

You couldn’t even put into words how happy you were to have gotten into Eddies van and have found the tape. You felt hope swirl in your chest, thinking maybe he might just like you back, there was no way he had done something this sweet for someone he considered just a friend. You look up at him for what felt like the umpteenth time. Eddie was trying to avoid eye contact with you, thinking you finally connected the dots and this was the part where you called him disgusting and jump out of his car. You took a leap of faith and softly called his name, as soon as he lifted his head you pull yourself towards him and wrap your arms around his waist and lay your head on his shoulder. You angled your body weirdly in your seat and over the center console but you didn’t care. You wanted him to know how grateful you were for such a small gift.

it took a couple seconds but Eddie slowly puts his arms around you, one at the small of your back and the other behind your head. He was hugging you, you hugged him first. He had to be dreaming but the smell of your hair, the feeling of it in his palm told him it was real.

“Thank you, Eddie. You have no idea how happy I am with it. Its the best gift I could ever ask for.” After what was probably a five minute hug you slowly pulled yourself away, still keeping your hands on his, Eddie doing the same.

The next song plays on the walkman. Its slow.

Wise men say, only fools rush in,

But I can’t help, falling in love with you.

You almost don’t recognize it, but soon it clicks in your head.

Eddie hears it too and quickly moves his hands off of you and darts his eyes everywhere besides your face. He’s nervous, scared, this is so cheesy, theres no way you liked him back. This was it, you were never gonna take to him after today.

You softly put your fingers under his chin and move his head so you could see his face. You’re smiling and those tears that were previously in your eyes were back. You lean slightly forward and brush your lips together. You stay there for a second. One hand under his chin, another holding onto his bicep and your lips pressed against one another. Eddie slides an arm around your waist and places the palm of his other hand onto the side of your face. You start to feel the lightheadedness that comes with holding your breath for too long and you pull away. You’re only a few breaths away, you can see the color of his eyes and can make out all of his eyelashes. Eddie still hasn’t opened his eyes, scared that when he does you’ll be gone and this would have all been a dream.

When he finally does blink his eyes open he sees you. You have what he thinks is the cutest smile he had ever seen on your face. You kissed him, and now you’re smiling. Relief floods through his body. “How long?” You ask, wanting to know how long he’s felt this way about you and wanting to see how long he’s been holding it from you. “About five minutes after I met you.”

You let out a breathy chuckle. “I’ve liked you since that time you showed me your guitar back in your trailer.” Eddies eyes slightly widen, that was about two weeks after the first time you guys had met. You’ve liked him this whole time. You both smile, going in for one more kiss. This time its more desperate, faces pressed even closer together. It’s shorter but amazing none the less.

When you finally grab your walk man to pause the music you realize you don’t hear the rain anymore, looking up through the wind shield of the van and see a clear sky.

“The rain stopped.” You mention. Eddie looks out the window and see that the sun is still out but sitting lower in the sky than before.

“We ummm, should head out. I have to get home.” You feel sad that you couldn’t stay here together just a little longer but you know your parents would start to worry soon. Eddie take the keys out and starts the car back up. She whirrs to life. He checks the odometer again, showing no signs of any issues like before.

Eddie makes his way to your house, reaching over and grabbing your hand in his after a bit of a debate with his thoughts. You squeeze his hands, holding back a smile and looking at him through the corner of your eye. You see him smiling too. The drive is silent but it’s not awkward, its weirdly calming.

When you guys finally make it to your house Eddie puts the car in park and turns to look at you. You don’t want to leave without erasing all doubt about what had happened. Eddie beats you to it.

“I want you to know that I was gonna use the tape to ask you out but I backed out a couple times. I didn’t think you’d feel the same way.”

“I wish you did because I definitely would’ve said yes.”

“Well then, would you, Y/n, like to go out on a date, with me?” Eddie tries to fight off the blush but he can’t. He can’t believe this is happening.

“Yes, I would love too.” You lean over the center console again and land a chaste peck on his cheek. “How about tomorrow? I don’t wanna wait any longer.”

“That would be perfect, Eddie.”

He take the hand that he’s been holding during the whole drive to your place and brings it up to his face and places a kiss to the back of your hand. You slowly slide your hand out of his and open the car door and jumping out. You walk up to your front door but don’t forget to look over your shoulder and send him another cute smile, the one he loves so much. Eddie doesn’t pull away from your house until he makes sure you get inside safe.

The whole drive back to his trailer he can’t help the smile that stays on the face, his cheeks basically aching by the time he gets home. He parks by the stairs and turns the car off. He slumps into his seat and brings a hand up to put a hand on the dashboard.

“You are a cheeky motherfucker, babygirl.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you

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