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thiswaytwoinfinity · 3 months

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color up my skies – bob floyd x fem!reader

Bob Floyd is always beautiful. But there’s something about the way the sunset makes his skin glow and the way that Montana drawl makes your toes curl that means you need to have him … even if you’re on the side of the road.

a/n: finally my entry for IBFFM is complete! This is the first fic I have actually written in months and it feels fitting that it would be for Bob, who stole my heart and introduced me to the TGM fandom. I love it here, y’all. I hope you enjoy my offering.

warnings: smut (18+ only) oral (m receiving), fingering, grinding, unprotected piv (in my mind she’s on bc), praise and breeding kink if you squint, truck sex so kind of public?

tagging @attapullman as a thank you for founding the hottest holiday ever 😉 and a h/t to @withahappyrefrain whose post about bob babbling when he gets close rewired something in my brain

Bob Floyd was always beautiful.

You could list a million instances when you felt stunned by him — when he was bobbing his head along to the music at the Hard Deck, observing his fellow Daggers; rumpled and bleary-eyed in the morning, waiting for his ancient coffee maker to hurry up; standing on your front porch and staring at you in awe, despite the fact that you’ve been together for over a year; flushed and panting with fogged up glasses as he lifts his head up from between your thighs — and still think of more.

But right now, with the pink and orange rays of the fading sunlight illuminating his beautiful cheekbones, the wind ruffling the longer bits of hair that peek out from his beat-up ball cap and those beautiful dimples peeking out, Bob Floyd is downright breathtaking.

“Penny for your thoughts?” the WSO asks, taking a sip from the bottle of soda in his hand. He grins softly as he looks over at you, reclined back on your elbows in the bed of his beloved truck. “You’ve been quiet for a while over there.”

You bite your lip, face heating up a bit as you confess, “You’re just so gorgeous, Bobby.” The tips of his ears turn pink at the praise and he takes his cap off and runs his fingers through his hair before replacing it.

“I was just thinking the same thing about you, darlin’,” he drawls, his accent stronger than ever thanks to the week you two have spent back in his home town.

You had been a little nervous when Bob asked you to come with him on a trip back to Montana after the birth of his nephew. Meeting each others’ parents during their brief trips to San Diego was one thing, but spending two and a half weeks in his childhood home? There were so many ways that could test your relationship.

But eight days into your trip, you were getting to know a whole different side of your beautiful Bob.

“I mean it. Montana looks good on you,” you tell him, reaching out to caress his face with your hand. “I like this whole ‘country boy’ vibe you have going on.”

Bob chuckles, warm and deep, as he gently turns his cheek into your palm. Your thumb gently rubs over one of his dimples, a sign that he’s relaxed and happy. “If I had known that taking you to watch the sunset in my truck would earn me all of these compliments, I woulda done it a lot sooner,” he murmurs.

“Guess you should’ve. Maybe you could have wooed me properly.”

You’re teasing of course; Bob is a complete romantic, surprising you with flowers and picnics on the beach and candlelit dinners at home. “Was this how you impressed all the girls in high school? You’d take them for a ride in your truck?”

He wraps his fingers around your wrist and kisses your knuckles before gently entwining your hands together and lowering them to his lap.

“I think you’re overestimating how many girls were interested in me back then,” Bob laughs. You roll your eyes — you’ve seen pictures of your boyfriend in high school, all gangly limbs and round glasses, and you can imagine falling for him back then too. “‘Sides, they all grew up here too. These big fields aren’t all that impressive when you see them every day.”

He leans over and presses one, two kisses to your neck, right above your collar bone. A shiver runs through your body that has nothing to do with the early evening breeze.

“That’s why I saved it for my favorite city girl,” Bob adds, his lips still pressed against your skin. You can feel the smirk on his mouth and it makes you feel a little dizzy.

Bob loved to make fun of you for being a “city girl,” joking about how you were lulled to sleep at night by the sound of sirens instead of crickets and laughing at your refusal to learn how to drive until after college. (Okay, but Bobby, you don’t need a license when you have public transport!) He secretly loved it, though. It gave him a thrill to think about how your vastly different lives converged the day you met at Payback’s engagement party.

Bob’s not sure he believes in fate, but he’s endlessly thankful for whatever forces brought you into his life.

You giggle a little as he continues to kiss and nuzzle his face against your quickly warming skin, hand ghosting up his arm to wrap around Bob’s shoulders and pull him impossibly closer. “Bobby …” you breathe, feeling his teeth gently nip at your collarbone. “Bobby, behave. We’re out in the open.”

Your handsome Navy man just smiles and proceeds to work on sucking a bruise into your neck that will make it very obvious what the two of you got up to when you return to his parents’ house.

“Bob —“ you start again, giving the hair at the nape of his neck a quick tug to try and catch his attention, but all you get in response is a deep groan pressed into your skin. With a smirk of your own, you slide your free hand onto one of Bob’s denim-clad thighs, before giving his hair another, sharper tug. The WSO freezes in place.

“Now, darlin’ …” he drawls, his voice low and rumbly in a way that shoots directly into your core. Bob lifts his head up slowly, his eyes hooded and his beautiful pink mouth shiny and puffy from exertion. “If you want me to start behavin’, you’re gonna need to stop pulling on my hair like that.”

“How come?”

Bob’s big hands come up to cup your jaw, tilting your head so that your eyes are locked on his. Your chest is heaving as you watch your boyfriend’s eyes darken, that beautiful sky blue turning to a seductive sapphire as his pupils dilate.

“Because if you keep goin’, I’m gonna have no choice but to take you right here,” Bob explains. “And I don’t know if I’ll be able to take my time with you out here. Make you fall apart the way I like …”

You let out an involuntary whimper at his words, your eyes fluttering closed as a rush of heat floods through you.

“Or is that something you want, huh?” Bob teases, his lips hovering over yours as he pulls you closer.

“Please, Bobby …” Your voice is breathy, more air than sound as you press your mouth against his. Bob’s thumbs gently caress your cheeks as he kisses you, his tongue sliding against yours as you let out a soft groan. No matter how long it’s been, Bob always kisses you like he’s just gotten back from a months-long deployment and it makes your head swim with delight.

(It also happens to have been a few days since you’ve had the chance to properly make out, which does nothing to calm the desire pulsing in your veins.)

“Missed you,” you sigh in between kisses and you feel more than hear Bob’s chuckle.

“C’mere baby,” he mutters, sliding one hand under one of your thighs and tugging, manhandling you to straddle his lap with ease.

You let out a little squeak before settling down, pressing your crotch down to feel where he’s already growing hard in his worn-out jeans. Bob curses lowly and wraps those delicious arms around your waist to pull you closer, his hips pushing up into yours unconsciously as his mouth trails from yours to your neck, down, down until he’s peppering kisses across your chest and the top of your cleavage. You can feel the edges of his signature BCGs dig into your soft flesh as Bob works his mouth along the neckline of your sundress.

“Did I ever tell you how gorgeous you look in this dress?” Bob asks after running his teeth lightly along your décolletage. “Drives me crazy when you wear it, just wanna pull it up and bend you over, doesn’t matter where we are.”

“Bobby!” you gasp, your nails scratching lightly up and down his biceps. Though he was a perfect gentleman on your first few dates — he even waited for you to kiss him first, blushing deeply when you tugged his face towards yours at the end of your third date — it didn’t take long for Bob to learn how much you liked it when he voiced all of the dirty thoughts running through his head.

It still takes you by surprise sometimes, the way your mild-mannered boyfriend can get you wet with just a few filthy comments.

And fuck are you already wet, rolling your hips against Bob’s as his talented fingers slide the straps of your dress down your shoulders so he can have better access to your chest. “Need you, need you so bad,” you keen, arching your back to push your breasts closer to your boyfriend’s mouth. “Bobby, please.”

“Okay, okay,” he mutters, pulling back from your chest with a luck of reluctance obvious on his beautiful face. “Shhh, it’s okay, baby,” he adds, stilling your hips in his lap. You only realize you let out a whine because of the way he’s rubbing his big hands up and down your sides, trying to soothe you. “Just wanna get you somewhere a little more private. I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.”

You nod almost frantically, your bottom lip between your teeth to try and hold back your moans. Letting out a deep breath, you slide off Bob’s lap and hop down out of the truck bed, your thighs squeezing together when you watch the way his biceps flex as he lifts the tailgate back into place after following.

He holds his hand out to you and you grab it, practically running around to the front of the truck and yanking the door open. Bob holds back a moment, waiting for you to climb in, but instead, you turn him by his hips and push him back into the cab so that he’s sprawled across the bench seat.

“‘M I not moving fast enough for you?” he asks with a laugh, planting one leg on the floor of the car and swinging the other up onto the creaky leather as he slides towards the driver’s side.

In response, you simply grin, before climbing in after him and pulling the door closed behind you.

But instead of laying yourself on top of Bob — which he’s clearly expecting you to do, the way his arms are hanging open to make room for you — you crouch down in the footwell and reach for his belt.

“Wait, baby, you don’t have to —“ he starts, before cutting himself off with a jolt when you cup his blue through the front of his pants.

“I want to,” you insist, fingers quickly working to open his belt and his jeans. “Want you. Want you so bad, Bobby. Next time we’re not staying at your parents’ house. I can’t go this long without touching you, it’s all I can think about.”

Bob tosses his head back with a moan, his hips lifting up as he helps you tug his pants and boxers down enough to free his hard cock. It slaps up against the bottom of his stomach, flushed and already wet at the tip, twitching slightly when you reach out to wrap your hand around the base. You wait a beat for him to lock eyes with you before you lean in and wrap your mouth around the tip, swirling your tongue around it to gather up the bit of precome pooling there.

“Oh, darlin’,” Bob practically growls, the deep timbre of his voice making you moan as you start to bob your head up and down. “Such a perfect fuckin’ mouth. You’re so good to me, baby. So g-good.”

You pull off and give him a long lick from base to tip before attempting to swallow down as much as you can at once. It took a while for you to be able to deep throat Bob like this — he’s so much bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with before, thick and long and just slightly curved in a way that makes you feel so deliciously full — but Bob was patient and understanding and now you like to show off for him whenever you can.

You pull off to catch your breath, a thin line of spit connecting your mouth to him, before leaning back in working your mouth down to his base, his public hair tickling your nose. You swallow around him and the feeling of your throat closing around his cock makes Bob jump and swear, a fist coming up to hit the roof. The quick buck of his hips makes you cough and sputter and he lifts your head off of him for a second to check in.

“Sorry, sorry. I just wasn’t expecting that, felt so damn good I lost my mind for a second,” he rambles, chuckling softly, his thumb rubbing at the corner of your smiling mouth. “You okay there?”

Instead of replying, you just giggle and nod, nipping at the tip of Bob’s thumb before you get back to what you were doing, sucking and licking at his cock while stroking whatever wasn’t in your mouth. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Bob’s stomach flex as he pants and moans above you, words of praise falling from his lips in a dazed ramble.

“So beautiful, you’re so beautiful like this, my gorgeous girl.” A loud moan interrupts his declarations, those big hands sweeping up to hold your hair back out of your face in a makeshift ponytail as you swallow him down again. “Yeahhhhh, just like that baby, good girl. God, you’re so good to me, love it when I can feel myself all the way in your throat, shit.”

You pull off to breathe before swallowing him down again, fingers cupping and caressing his balls as you hold him there, tip brushing against the back of your throat, enjoying the way Bob’s thighs shake and his hands tighten in your hair.

You repeat the action a few more times, tears staring to run down your cheeks before he suddenly tugs your head up and away from his cock.

“Don’t wan’ come down your throat, darlin’, need to come inside you,” he rambles, petting the sides of you head absently, his eyes fixed on your chest as the straps of your dress slide further down and reveal the soft satin of your bra underneath. “Please, baby, please let me fuck you, gonna fuck you so full ...”

The edge of desperation in Bob’s voice makes you surge up from the floor, climbing into his lap as you kiss him, all tongue and teeth and desire.

“Yes, Bobby, yeah,” you say against his mouth, tugging at his white tee shirt until he pulls it up and over his head. The sight of his broad, defined chest makes you rub yourself against him, sticky wet panties brushing against the hot ridge of his hard cock.

As you roll your hips again and again, the lace catches against your clit, making you moan loudly as Bob lifts his hips into yours.

“You’re so wet, darlin,’ I can feel it, I can feel how you soaked right through your panties,” he says, eyes closing briefly at the sensation, before they fly open and he finishes tugging the bodice of your dress down to your waist. He gives your breasts a quick squeeze, letting out a soft grunt before teasing and pinching at your nipples through the thin fabric. “Such a sweet girl, my good girl, and you get so fuckin’ wet just from sucking my cock.”

“Bobby, please, fuck me,” you moan, hips working more frantically against his, chasing your high as he whispers naughty encouragement to you.

“I will, baby, I will,” he promises, voice soothing despite his movements bringing your closer and closer to the edge. He sits up properly in the seat, grabbing you by the hips and moving your body against his. “Wanna see you come like this first, watch you fall apart in my lap, love it when you get desperate like this.”

Bob drops one hand to your lap, working it up the skirt of your dress to meet your soaked panties.

With a low curse, he slides his hand into them, pressing his thumb against your clit and rubbing in steady circles while you throw your head back and moan at the feeling of his hands on you.

“Fuck, Bob, right t-there, I’m so close baby,” you babble, hips continuing to swivel as you grind against his hand, his cock, edging further and further to your peak, nails scraping down Bob’s torso. His murmured little “c’mon, come for me,” helps push you over with a shout, your body shaking and trembling in his arms as he works you through your orgasm.

“Juuuust like that, so gorgeous baby, so good for me,” Bob says, his thumb slowing down against your clit as you come down from your high. When your eyes flutter open and you take him in, cheeks flushed and glasses slightly fogged from all of the exertion. He barely gives you a moment to catch your breath before he pulls your panties to the side and begins sliding his cock into you.

You give a shout that turns into a high-pitched whine as you feel the head of him press inside you. “Bobby, Bobby, Bobby,” you babble, walls still fluttering a little as you go to slide all the way down his cock, needing him inside you as quickly as possible.

“Uh-uh, darlin’, slow,” he chastises, grabbing your hips to still you about halfway down his cock. “Don’t wanna hurt you, just take your time, you’re doing so well for me.”

It feels like time slows down as the two of you work to get every inch of him inside, tiny little movements of your hips helping you to take more and more until your hips meet.

You take a moment to reach behind you and unhook your bra, tossing it to the side before snatching Bob’s hat and doing the same. He doesn’t even seem to register your decision to rid him of his hat, already fixated on your bare chest, moving to suck one of your peaked nipples into his mouth with a moan.

“Love these tits, baby,” he mutters against you and you card your fingers through his hair in response. It’s a little sweaty from hiding under his hat in the heat all day, but you can’t get enough of the way Bob groans and whines as you tug at the longer strands and scratch your nails against his scalp. “Gotta move, darlin’, gotta fuck you now.”

“Yes, yes,” you say, lifting your hips until just his the tip of his cock is still inside you and sliding back down.

“Shit, baby, jus’ like that,” he encourages, words already beginning to slur together as he gets drunk on pleasure. You repeat the motion and he smirks, before tugging one nipple between his teeth to make you keen. “You wanna show me you know how to ride? Huh? C’mon city girl, ride me.”

Bob’s voice gets a little breathy towards the end of his taunt and your moans get louder as you feel him press against that spongey spot within you on each downstroke.

For a while, the only thing you can hear is the sound of skin slapping together, punctuated by groans and growls and the occasional whine when Bob pinches or tugs at your nipples with his teeth, the tiny spark of pain making the pleasure more delicious. He’s so tuned into you that he can sense that you’re getting tired almost before you do, wrapping his arms around you and adjusting so that both of his feet are planted against the floor of his truck and he begins thrusting up into you, giving your burning thighs a break.

His hips move quickly, punching little “unhs” out of you with each thrust, tip bullying your g-spot relentlessly. Your walls begin to tighten and flutter against him and Bob frees a hand to rub two fingers against your clit in a slow, steady motion that contrasts beautifully with the speed of his thrusts.

“Oh my g— fuck, Bob, feels so good. You feel so g-good, love you so much.” You’re not even aware of what you’re saying, words spilling out of your mouth mindlessly as you let Bob bring you closer and closer to your orgasm. “Need to come, Bobby, I’m so close, wanna come for you, please, please,” you beg, peppering kisses all over his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, anywhere your lips can reach.

Bob’s fingers speed up, his mouth dropping open to let out a low groan, his face flushed and eyes glassy.

“Yes, good girl, just like that,” he encourages, the bottom of his glasses starting to fog up as a result of his exertion. You moan loudly at the sight, tossing your head back and losing yourself in the feeling of Bob’s talented fingers, his cock, the tension inside you building, building. “Come for me, beautiful, please. Let go for me, so perfect, so good to me, can’t believe you’re mine – shit.”

Your boyfriend’s praise tips you over the edge and you feel that band inside you snap, your vision whiting out at the edges as your walls clamp down on Bob’s cock. You’re shaking and moaning in his arms, gushing around him as he murmurs and works you through it. “Love you, love you, yes, yes, love you baby,” pressed into your clammy skin as Bob can’t bring himself to lift his mouth up from your chest, shoulders, neck long enough to speak clearly.

You come down from your high with one last shudder, walls fluttering around him and making him moan against you. You lean back to take a look at his face - pink and sweaty, a smile on his puffy lips and looking more beautiful than you think you’ve ever seen him before - before cupping it between your hands and kissing him.

You’re not sure how long the two of you just sit there and kiss, could be seconds, could be minutes, but you’re too lost in each other to care.

Eventually, though, your hips start rolling again in his lap, causing Bob to let out little whimpers and moans against your mouth. He lets his teeth tug at your bottom lip before pulling back and pressing his forehead against yours. “God, you feel so good, honey,” he says, eyes locked on yours as you begin to ride him properly once again.

“Wanna make you feel good, Bobby,” you coo, one hand threading through his damp hair and the other caressing his jaw.

“You a-always do, so good to me, so good baby,” he rambles, breath hitching every time you squeeze around him. “Don’t know how I g-got so l-lucky, can’t believe you’re mine, dar-darlin’.”

Bob’s hips begin thrusting up jerkily to meet yours, his eyes starting to get glassy behind those big frames. Knowing he’s getting close, you gently tug on his hair, short little bursts of pain that drive him crazy and get his hips moving faster.

“Jusss like that, god, you’re taking me so well, doing so well,” he says before grabbing onto your hips and holding you in place and thrusting up into you almost frantically. “Wanna be with you all the t-time, wanna fuck you every day, every night, keep you - yeah, do that again baby, pull my hair like that - keep you full of me.”

You moan at the idea, loving the thought of Bob just taking you whenever he pleases.

“Yeah? T-that what you want? I’ll do it for you, do any-anything for you, gonna fuck a baby into you one d-day and make our own little fa - I’m so close - family,” he cuts himself off with a few more high-pitched moans, eyes slipping shut as if he’s picturing your future together.

The idea of being with Bob, having kids with him, settling down and spending your lives together, hits you like a freight train. You don’t think anything has ever sounded better to you.

“Want that, Bobby, want to be with you forever, wanna have your babies, please, Bobby,” you babble, hands running all over his hands and shoulders to pull him closer, hold him tighter.

“Fuck, fuck, yes, anything you want darlin’, oh my -“ he comes with a shout, eyes squeezing tightly shut and fingers holding onto you so hard that you will probably have bruises on your hips later. (You hope you do, you always wear all of the marks Bob leaves on you with pride.) You feel him twitch inside you, liquid heat making you feel impossibly full. He gives one, two little half thrusts as he finishes, before loosening his grip on your skin.

Fully panting, Bob takes a moment try and catch his breath before opening his eyes slowly. The look of pure adoration on his face almost knocks the wind out of you.

“Well,” he starts with a chuckle, pressing a few chaste kisses to your shoulder. “Nothing like that ever happened to me in high school.”

You bark out a surprised laugh, giggles spilling out as you watch Bob grin and then duck his head. The sun has almost fully set by now, pinks and oranges fading into purples and blues as the two of you laugh in Bob’s truck, faces flushed and glowing in the dusk.

In a minute, Bob will clean you up and help you get dressed, gently kissing you with each item of clothing you wrangle back on.

He’ll give you a look of confusion and then surprise when he realizes that his hat is somewhere underneath the seat and he’ll run his fingers through your hair to help you tame it before settling into the driver’s seat. He’ll rest one of those big, warm palms on your thigh as he drives you both back home, looking over to smile at you at every stop sign and red light.

You’ll both giggle, cheeks warm and eyes downcast when Bob’s mom asks about your afternoon over dinner and he’ll mentally start picking out engagement rings when he watches you bounce his nephew on your knee when the family gathers in the living room afterward.

Later that night, after you’ve both shyly admitted that you were serious about the promises you made to one another in the truck, Bob will smile as he watches the moonlight illuminate your sleeping face.

But for now, you two just enjoy this perfect moment, wrapped in one another as the crickets begin chirping outside. And neither you nor Bob think you’ve ever seen the other look more beautiful.

(Are we still doing readmore sacrifices?) Either way, please reblog or comment if you enjoyed!

#international bob floyd fucks month #top gun maverick fanfiction #tgm fanfiction #tgm fic #robert bob floyd #bob floyd fic #bob floyd smut #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd fanfiction #my beautiful husband bob floyd #bob fucks

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vampiretendencies · 1 year

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request; hi! i love your writing! if you could maybe do “tell me about your day.” with jj! maybe he’s your first boyfriend & you’re taken back by such a simple question/gesture since nobody has ever cared about you in that way before.

warnings; fluff

pairing; jj x fem!reader

authors note; writing blurbs rn bc of writers block (sorry to keep saying that btw i just repeat myself in case there’s a new reader, though i am currently starting to get over it) but still send in requests for one shots, imagines, etc. you may choose a blurb from the list below or send in your own idea.

other ways to say i love you prompt list

2 months.

So fresh, and so perpetually new.

Honeymoon phase striking JJ as something that would actually last this time. Not that he had many relationships to base it off of, but the past few he had typically went sour within the first few weeks.

None of them could get along with his way of life, or they just simply didnt appreciate the wholeness of everything that was JJ.

But he sensed it with you; he felt it in his bones, under his skin, on the tip of his tongue, every ounce of his being felt you, even if you weren't in the room.

This was his most serious, longest, emotionally involved, admiration filled relationship he'd been in.

This was your first relationship, but after being underwhelmed in his past endeavors he found this to be his first too.

And he's thinking about you first thing when he wakes up in the morning, last thing when he goes to sleep- unable to function properly if you weren't near.

JJ was your first everything; first kiss, first time holding hands, first time cuddling, first time being sexually involved with a boy.

But, Christ were your standards low about yourself.

Initially thinking a human with such with breathtakingly confined gestures didn't exist like JJ.

He proved you wrong, convincing you that everyone else in this world were heathens.

He taught you how to create such passion for another, how to know someone's heart and you did the same.

"How was your day, baby?"

It rolled of JJ's tongue, finitely. The two of you were entangled in the hammock at the Chateau, and you were cradled into JJ's arms. Attached to his side, whilst he studied your features; peering down at your scrunched up nose as if you were heaven sent. You thumbed over the material of his beer-stained Heyward's t-shirt, coming to a halt at that question. Almost like the hammock stopped swinging, the unearthly beaming sun stopped shining on the two of you, and as if you'd sunken into the mucky ground.

You were in awe, glaring up at JJ like he'd grown two heads.

Was he being serious? You thought.

"Something on my face? It's okay you can tell me-"

"No m'just ... you meant to ask me that?"

Stunned, was an understatement, as you are now propping your chin onto JJ's muscular chest, needing a better view. Almost uneased and taken aback as that wasn't an everyday question anyone asked you— lead alone a boy.

"Course' I did ..." and then he noticed your furrowed eyebrows. "C'mon, what's goin' on in that pretty little head?”

"Nothing J, you're the first guy to ask me that."

""Let's keep it that way, baby. I'll be the only one."

He's repeatedly pecking the skin of your forehead leaving you to say, “Since I've met you all of my days have been perfect."

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willalove75 · 5 months

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ANNOUNCEMENT / UPDATE!!

Hello friends!!

I know I've been MIA for like, over a month lol and I'm so sorry!

Lots of things (good and exciting things!) have been happening that I can finally share with all of you!

As many of you know I had to take a bit of a break from writing because I was pretty sick for a while, but I can finally talk about what's been going on!

I'M PREGNANT!!!

AND ITS A BOY!!

A little manthing!!! Heheh

So the reason I was so sick was because of morning sickness (which is just a fucking lie of a term bc that shit lasted all day every day. In my case I was fine in the mornings but got more sick as the day went on. By 6pm I was so fucking sick. Thank god I never threw up but fuck was I close a few times. It was awful).

But I am officially 14 weeks and due June 1!! This is mine and my husbands first child and we're both so excited.

Now that I'm finally feeling better I promise to get back into a normal writing schedule. It may take a second to get back into the swing of things but my goal is to get back to updating my series fics regularly and finally getting back to catching up with the damn near 100 asks in my inbox😅

I will probably be taking some kind of "maternity leave" from here for a bit around the time the nugget is due, but I have absolutely 0 plans of abandoning my fics or you guys! It won't be for a while and of course I'll keep you all updated whenever that's happening.

But for now I'm gonna get back to fic writing and responding to the amazing asks you guys have sent me!!

Love you all so, so much. Thank you all for your continued support💕💕💕

#willalove75 #hannah waddingham #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #rebecca welton

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vasito-de-leche · 2 months

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iff its still alright for requests then maybe somethingg small n maybe sleepy with forget me not ? nothing specific otherwise just

sleepy eeby forget me not fic. either that or wrangling his soggy ass to sleep(for once

;R1999 FORGET ME NOT - "five minutes"

Forget Me Not x Reader. 2.8k words fluff Being in charge of The Walden has its ups and downs - Forget Me Not enjoys being the conductor of an orchestra composed of dying men and women, even if it costs him hours of precious sleep. You make sure to remind him that even the most powerful broker in Chicago deserves a little nap.

this mf has been fighting me for a month or so, it's so hard to write him SLEEPING, HE RLLY DOESNT WANT TO. I HAVE 3 DIFFERENT DRAFTS GRAAAA so here we are. I fought tooth and nail for this, theres 4 different drafts just about FMN getting some fucking sleep. this one even has like, a different version where you fall asleep on his lap instead bc he keeps FIGHTING ME

either way, ty for the request, nonnie! your ask was the perfect excuse to get this done. sorry it ended up being longer than my usual stuff, I just really love the guy

The amount of work needed to maintain an establishment like The Walden often goes unnoticed.

Its elegant ambience and decor, all the powerful and influential people to rub shoulders with, the precise and meticulous organization behind every single detail and decision - all of it can be attributed to a single man, the very same who leads the crowd and makes their drinks.

When the night arrives, he and The Walden come alive.

Hundreds of desperate rats crawl into his den, searching for things they don't deserve: money, fame, fortune, connections, assets. They want to find their place in the world before they're long forgotten, and this is when Forget Me Not steps onto the stage and finds himself in his element, surrounded by all the people who look at him in fear, disgust and awe.

Do they know? That at the end of the world, he holds their fate in the palm of his hand? Him, a simple broker, a middle man.

An inferior, an arcanist.

Of course, the high fades as soon as the sun rears its ugly head over the horizon, his spirits plummet to the ground when the world returns to that monotonous routine. All Forget Me Not can do now is wait.

He would never dream of being so careless as to have his own residence right above his workplace, but he rarely steps into his home in the first place. It's too much trouble to commute back and forth, wasting time in a building that is as devoid of warmth as the blood running through his veins. That private office nestled somewhere within The Walden has become his new safe haven, in fact - with one too many couches to lounge around and no bed in sight.

Not that he sleeps anyway.

Forget Me Not always fancied the most convoluted route into an early grave, and thus has replaced the bottle for something else: endless paperwork.

It's getting harder and harder to conceal the dark bags under his eyes for a semblance of professionalism. How very fitting that, despite all of his efforts and accomplishments, his quality of life continues to deteriorate. What a depressing thought.

The leather of his seat squeaks as he shifts, leaning backwards to fully take in the piles and piles of files atop his desk. His gaze turns to the clock just to confirm what he already knows - it's a little past 6 AM, the cold breeze of the early morning keeping him wide awake. A brand new shipment of materials will arrive in two hours, they will need to be stored but it's an easy enough job for the Disciples. This means that the next important event on his schedule is the meeting at 11 AM. Forget Me Not's face sours right away at the thought, and he reaches for his drink.

And just like that, without any sort of warning, the door to his office is flung open. It's a good thing that despite his awful, awful health, his grip is as steady as ever - not a single drop is spilled. If else, Forget Me Not remains still as a statue, retaining that air of composed aloofness as he raises an inquisitive eyebrow towards the intruder.

It's you, standing perfectly by his door frame. He almost drops the glass once he recognizes your face, but conceals his little slip by settling it back down on his desk.

"Ah, how rare to see you during the day, you're always so busy with errands. To what do I owe this loud, impromptu visit? Keep in mind, I don't start serving drinks until 8 PM."

You don't wait for him to finish, marching towards the small lounge in his office and picking up a small, decorative pillow before dropping backwards onto one of the sofas. A shadow passes over Forget Me Not's eyes - he doesn't know whether to resent you for knowing you have the freedom and privilege to act like this around him, or whether to feel insulted for the way you ignored him just now. He settles for his usual third, secret option - resignation - and makes his way towards you.

Unlike you, Forget Me Not has mastered the art of concealing his presence and so he makes no sound at all when he approaches. He stands right next you, leaning ever so slightly to hover above your face, as if his piercing grey eyes alone could pressure you into speaking.

It doesn't work, at least not right away. You hide behind that useless pillow, then you shift and turn to lay on your side, all while he simply stands in perfect silence. It's a battle of attrition, one he intends to win.

"I slept like shit, okay? Just give me five minutes here and I'll go back to work." Your voice is muffled, but he hears how tired you are anyway.

It's easy to forget that people aren't nocturnal like him, at least not by choice. It's easy to forget about humanity when most of his coworkers are puppets held by strings and ink, mindlessly following orders. When you curl up on the sofa, Forget Me Not remembers just how tired he is and sighs. Soon, he's walking towards the door.

This makes you sit up in a hurry, clearly misinterpreting his actions. "Five minutes, promise! Don't kick me out!"

There's a faint click, it's the lock on the door. Forget Me Not returns to his desk, making sure not to look your way lest his eyes reveal those wretched feelings bubbling in his chest. Did you seriously think he had the nerve to throw you out so carelessly?

"Ten minutes. Make sure not to waste them with chitchat." He can practically sense you silently cheering and getting comfortable in his office. On his couch. It's insufferable, the way you always get what you want while he slaves away with work.

But it's only ten minutes, he can tolerate you for that long.

Three minutes pass, and Forget Me Not realizes that he's spent more time glancing your way than reading the document in front of him.

From his spot, he can only see the top of your head, just a glimpse of your form as you rest your eyes. But every time you move, no matter how subtle, he notices and turns his attention back onto you.

Seven minutes, he only needs to focus for seven minutes. The document in his hand is important: he's negotiating for better materials for his potions at a cheaper cost. This simple deal could mean a lot for Manus Vindictae, always so low on funds, resources and support.

Six minutes. Forget Me Not hears you hum and he slowly turns his head on instinct. You're staring right at him, face resting on the armrest, squishing your cheek against the plush cushions.

"You have four minutes left, are you sure you want to waste them like this?" He lies, as if he wasn't ready to ignore the passage of time to give you a few more extra minutes, expecting you to comply. But you get back at him with a question of your own.

"Did you get any sleep?"

"Three minutes." It comes out as a warning. You ignore it.

"I'm serious! You look awful from here." By now, you're sitting down and he knows that if he doesn't stop you, you'll make your way to him. To invade his personal space, cradle his face in your hands and torture him with your gentle touch. "You're always here when I start my shift and when I finish. Where do you get the time to go home and all of that?"

Forget Me Not would rather swallow his own tongue than to openly admit that he essentially lives here. That he has spare clothes in the drawer by the window, that he showers, eats and sleeps in this office of his. You might've figured it out by now, but with his pride and dignity at stake, he pretends to ignore you in favour of work.

"Hey, c'mon. Don't just go back to work like I'm not even here talking to you!" He does exactly that, picking up a pen to sign a few documents. "Drop that. Drop the pen. Hey!"

You talk to him the same way one would talk to a misbehaving dog, and he hears that whiny, frustrated tone in your voice that he's come to appreciate. There is a pause and Forget Me Not does as told - the pen now resting neatly on the desk.

He finally deigns himself to look at you, returning a small smile.

"Thank you, now, like I was saying-"

Thud!

With his free hand, he stamps a document, never breaking eye contact. The pettiness is always worth it, but this time even more so when he sees that tic in your eye and the way you inhale sharply, absolutely done with him. You sit up, consider laying down again in frustration, then simply cross your arms like a child throwing a tantrum - seeing you get worked up over the smallest of things is always such a treat.

"Fine! Be like that! But don't come running when you- Uwaaah!" A yawn interrupts your words, you barely have time to cover your mouth.

Oh no. It's contagious. He feels that tell-tale tingle in his nose, and just like that, he yawns as well.

"Aha! You are tired, I bet you haven't slept properly in days!" An accusatory finger is now pointed at him, and Forget Me Not fights the impulse to roll his eyes.

"That's quite the leap to make over a simple gesture like that. Your time is up, by the way - please, go back to work."

"I'm telling on you, Forget Me Not. I'm so telling on you."

He gives a raspy laugh at this. "And who will you be telling about my horrible sleeping habits? The waiters? The delivery boy? Our esteemed guests?" The latter would definitely eat up any sort of information about his private life, especially if it was something to ruin his reputation, but he doesn't share this out loud.

"Ahh... So, you admit it, then? Having the worst sleeping schedule known to mankind?" Touché.

Before he can even reply, your mouth opens in a feigned yawn and Forget Me Not seethes when he finds himself imitating you. He seethes even more over the smug smile on your face. And he wishes he could just die on the spot when you scoot over and pat the empty seat next to you. Him? Rest? With you? Absolutely not.

"Ten minutes," a tight knot forms in his throat when you start to coax him in. "I'm sure you can spare that much, since you've been indulging me for this long! If you were actually busy, you would've just sent me home to rest. C'mere, sit."

What is the point in keeping track of time by now? Forget Me Not will be by your side until you decide to leave. Indulging you and your stupid ideas, your well-meaning and annoying habits, your reactions - all of it, they're his favorite vice and he never learned how to quit.

"Five minutes." He sits next to you.

"Fair enough." You scoot closer to him.

He watches when you link your arm with his, not bothering to ask for permission. Typical. Your palm is warm as you rest it over his forearm, fingers drumming idly over the soft fabric of his shirt. But you don't linger for too long, and slide down until your index and middle fingers reach the bare skin of his inner wrist, over the pronounced vein there. Can you feel his pulse? The shameless and frantic beat of his heart?

Forget Me Not is so entranced by this simple action that he fails to notice the sudden extra weight - your head rests on his shoulder, with your cheek pressed against the prominent bone. He knows it's an uncomfortable position, because you shift and nuzzle closer to his chest, the top of your head and your hair now tickling his neck and jawline. The knot in his throat returns and he holds his breath on instinct, like an animal at the verge of being devoured.

Nevermind the constant cycle of violence and doom he's turned his life into, these are the horrors that keep Forget Me Not up at night: your body against his, your displays of affection.

"Your eyes," the soft murmur of your voice pulls him from the awful, nonsensical noise in his mind. You're looking up at him. "You're meant to close them. That's what this whole thing is for. Unless ...you can sleep with your eyes open?"

"Don't be ridiculous. As if such a short amount of time could make me fall asleep." He huffs, a way to conceal just how out of breath he is. Part of him is afraid to close his eyes, knowing that he will feel each and every little thing you do - only tenfold. And what would he do with himself then, when all he can focus on is your finger tracing shapes over his palm? It tickles. It's distracting. It's unbearable.

His hand flinches, just barely, and you interlock your fingers with his in response.

"Hush and close them!" Always so obedient to your commands, Forget Me Not does as told, cursing you in his mind.

He gives you an inch, and you take a mile - the moment his eyes are closed, his body turns rigid but you still coax him backwards, so that he can lean on the backrest of the couch. It takes the coordinated effort of every single muscle in his body not to melt on the spot, to remain in a proper, sitting position. With you nestled so comfortably by his side, Forget Me Not makes the worst mistake in his life: he turns his head towards you, his nose now buried in your hair.

The content and pleased noise that leaves him is something that feels alien, entirely out of character for someone like him. Right away, he feels the tips of ears burning with shame and his body uselessly recoils away from you, trying to revert back into that persona he's created for the world.

It backfires immediately.

"...Hm? Is your arm getting numb? Here, let's switch." You move away, all while your hands cradle his face in order to guide him over to your lap.

It's a painfully slow process that is simultaneously over in the blink of an eye. Forget Me Not doesn't know what's worse, the fact that he didn't put up a fight or the way he feels so incredibly small, being held so lovingly by you.

He's laying on his back, hands resting uselessly over his chest like a corpse in an open casket funeral. If he glances upwards (a difficult thing to do, because you flick his forehead whenever you catch him wide awake) he can see you hoarding all the pillows available within your reach to support you as you lounge about, still hellbent on sleeping in with him.

Did he die at some point throughout the day without noticing? Is this his own personal Hell? Forget Me Not wants to speak, to say anything and regain control of the situation, but nothing comes out. All there is to do is to lay there, with your hands combing through his hair.

His heart might as well burst out of his chest. Even better, crawl up his throat and choke him from inside out.

Without thinking, he sits up. It's a nervous impulse. You can't see his face with his back turned to you and he's grateful for the small moment of privacy, as he steels himself to send you away. Or to fuck off into The Walden and walk around aimlessly to cool off, and then avoid you for a few weeks. Whichever comes first.

"Oh! Want a pillow or something? I kind of just took them all without thinking." He doesn't deserve this sort of contact, this domestic bliss - he doesn't want it either.

"Hey, do you think we could do this more often? Just... make some time for me in that busy schedule of yours?" And why would he? You're already pretty skilled at turning his life upside down with your constant nagging and your antics.

"Sorry for being this sappy so suddenly, it just came to mind...Oh, oh! Wait! While you're at it, mind closing the window, please? It's getting a liiittle cold in here."

Forget Me Not leaves his glasses on the table and lays back down, this time making sure to wrap his arms as tightly as he can around your waist, his face hidden in your stomach. What he receives is a weak chuckle, a weak complaint and a weak attempt at pushing him away. You don't mean it, of course - the same way he never means any of the things he thinks.

"Hm, I believe it's perfect like this."

"You're just saying that because you're going to leech off my own body heat, you little snake."

There's a hint of victory in your voice, you've won once again against him but you're always too nice to rub it in. Instead, you caress the scales on his neck, now on full display for you. It's a heavenly sensation.

"Perhaps," he murmurs, eyes closed. "But what are you going to do? Kick me out of my own office?"

"I might if you don't get some rest. Sleep, now."

And just like that, Forget Me Not unravels - he's been waiting so long to be given permission, for someone to allow him a moment of peace despite all these restraints holding him back.

He knows that the moment wakes up, he will act like none of this happened, that he will stubbornly deny everything until his very last breath, but right now, he clings onto you like his life depends on it.

And he falls asleep with your name on his lips

#reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #r1999 #reverse 1999 x reader #reverse 1999 forget me not #forget me not: i fucking hate this world #forget me not the moment you walk in: OMG!!! YIPPIE!!!!#mf is so scary and deranged until youre right there reminding him that hes EXTREMELY touchstarved

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goldenseresinretriever · 6 months

Note

Ruthie 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 could we maybe get a peek of Jake’s pov when Bugs is getting yelled at in cyclone’s office? 🥺 -yuckosworld

ABSOLUTELY, Em! (I didn’t realize that way you until today, bc I didn’t recognize the side blog!! ily <3) This was such a well-needed change of pace for me since I’m kind of stuck on Chapter 5 rn. Apparently it was well-needed enough that it turned out being 2k long but HERE WE ARE 💀 Please enjoy, I loved writing this!

~Jake’s POV of the second half of Chapter 4, aka the unofficial Chapter 4.5~

Jake’s had a weird day, to say the least. He’d started the morning still unsure if he was truly ready to trust Bugs with his story, or at least the portion related to his knee injury. She hadn’t pushed, she’d just sat there and listened to him. Sure she’d been adamant from the very beginning that she was just interested in helping him heal but he’d heard that song before from more familiar birds. There are only so many times you can get stabbed in the back before you start walking backward to avoid it. On top of that, what Bugs had revealed today just twisted the knife where it stuck. Not only had Dr. Hanover helped his coach guilt him into playing while injured, but he’d blatantly lied to Jake and possibly even his coach about Jake’s recovery timeline. The more Jake thought about it, the more he figured that his coach was probably in on the lie. Coach wanted Jake exactly where he envisioned him, regardless of Jake’s goals, his ambitions. He could have been the second coming of Wayne Gretzky himself and he wasn’t sure his coach would have cared. That was the thing about Coach, once he put you in a box and created his master plan for your life, your career, nothing else could get in the way of that. The problem was that he’d created a new box for Jake, but this time it was one that Jake hated. It went against everything that Jake was. And if he’d needed any more reasons to leave, now he had them.

But now he was here and he had Bugs. He could trust her. If he wasn’t already sure, he was when he’d seen her rage. She’d burned so fiercely he’d been caught between awe and fear, not that he’d ever admit that to anyone. He’d been on the receiving end of her anger a few times and while it had caught him off guard at first he’d grown to enjoy riling her up. But the righteous fire in her eyes as she cursed out Dr. Hanover, demanding to know what he’d done to Jake as if weighing his sins before delivering swift hard justice, was something he’d never experienced before. She wanted to fight… for him. He’d had plenty of physicians in the past who spouted the same Hippocratic oath bullshit but he’d never seen someone like Bugs. Maybe it was her youth. She was the same age as him, this was her first big gig, and she still had passion for what she did, unlike the crusty old men that Jake usually found himself in the care of. He wasn’t too proud to admit that his cock had twitched in his sweats at the display of such fierce loyalty, at the fire of devotion in her eyes. It made him want to drop to his knees and worship her, injury be damned.

Then she’d cried. His heart clenched painfully in his chest as he remembers looking up to see the silent tears streaming down her cheeks, the pain in her eyes haunting him. Pain for him. Not pity, but empathy. He’d wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and hold her. He’d settled for holding her hands. It was then that he realized that if he saw her cry again? Whoever was responsible for her tears was going to get put in the fucking ground. No one makes his Bunny cry. He clenches his fist around the weight in his hand unconsciously. He’s in the weight room working his arms since he’s on strict orders to keep off his leg until scans can be scheduled and tests can be run.

His phone dings and he glances at the screen to see Maverick’s name pop up. He sets down the weight to snag his phone from where it’s sitting on the gym phone next to the bench. “CYCLONE’S OFFICE NOW. HURRY.” The text is all caps and nothing like what he normally receives from his older coach. The warning sirens go off in Jake’s brain even as the rational part of his brain tries to convince him that nothing’s wrong. You mentioned that you were planning to meet with Mav and Cyclone ASAP to fill them in on his condition. They probably just wanted him to be present. Still, he can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong. He barely stops to rack the dumbbell before he moves for the elevator as fast as he can. His knee groans in protest, strapped into the brace Bugs put on it. He does his best to move quickly, smashing the buttons and succumbing to the waiting game. Most of the facilities in the arena were on the ground floor but Cyclone’s office was one of the few located on the second floor. He knows Bugs would chew him out for taking the stairs even if they were the quicker option. Finally, the doors slide open and Jake makes his way down the hallway towards the door at the end. He’s not even halfway there, however, when he hears the muffled shouting. His blood runs cold. The reason for the urgency in Maverick’s text suddenly becomes clear. Jake takes a shuddering breath before he starts running, knee be damned. He groans in thanks when he finds the door unlocked but the venom-filled words filtering from the other side are finally clearly audible.

“I knew hiring you was a mistake and look what you’ve done! You can’t even do your fucking job!” Jake’s heard enough. He shoves the door open so hard he almost takes it off its hinges.

“HEY!” His voice is pure fury. Cyclone is red in the face and leaning over his desk, an accusatory finger waving in your face where you’re sitting across from him. He turns his attention to Jake at the outburst. You don’t even flinch at the sound of the door and Jake’s heart squeezes in concern at your lack of reaction until he watches the harsh tension of your shoulders relax a little.

He storms across the room, stepping in front of you, doing his best to shield you from the wrath rolling off Cyclone. His finger is inches from Jake’s cheek. “This isn’t her fault, so don’t you go accusing her as if it is.” He’s furious, seething at the complete and total lack of professionalism his boss is exhibiting. He’s starting to wonder if he’s gone from the frying pan into the fire when Cyclone decides to make things worse.

“That’s not up to you, son. She’s fired, effective immediately. This is gross negligence, she’s lucky we don’t sue.” If he wasn’t so angry, Jake might laugh in his face at that. He’s no lawyer but he knows that there’s not even a hint of gross negligence at play when it comes to you.

“No, she’s not. The only way I’m getting treated is if she’s the one to do it.” Jake glares at Cyclone, his mouth twisting into a cruel smirk as his eyes gleam. Cyclone hasn’t realized it quite yet but he doesn’t have control of the luck in this scenario, it’s confidently in Jake’s. “I know I’ve cost you all a pretty penny that you currently don’t have so not only can you not afford to fire me, but you need me to play, and the only way that’s going to happen is if my leg heals, and I’m telling you right now that that’s not happening unless Bugs is my physician. If you want to blame someone?” He tilts his head, daring Cyclone to try this shit again. “I’m feeling pretty good about my chances of suing my last physician and coach for a lot more than gross negligence.” He watches Cyclone’s eyes dart around nervously and Jake knows he’s won. “But Bugs and I are a package deal. If I stay, she stays, and I’m staying.” Some would call it cocky but Jake knows it’s not. It’s calculated, and ambitious. This is the Jake Seresin his opponents see on the ice. This is the Hangman, he gets what he wants and he doesn’t take no for an answer. Cyclone nods silently and Jake lowers his hackles, anger melting into concern for you. You’ve been completely silent throughout this entire exchange almost as if you’re not even here. He turns around to face you and his heart shatters into a thousand pieces. Your eyes are glazed over, your expression vacant, and you’re completely checked out of what’s going on. He prays it’s because you’re barricaded somewhere safe, protecting yourself instead of lost in the walls of your mind. He leans in close, doing his best to take up your entire field of vision to shield you from your fear in any way he knows. He reaches out gently, afraid to startle you as he slides his hands into yours, using them to gently help you to your feet. Your body follows, and he’s thankful you still have control of your faculties, not that he’d hesitate to scoop you into his arms and carry you out of this hellhole himself. “Come on, Bunny. “ He whispers to you placing a hand on the small of your back. He keeps the other laced with yours as he slowly, gently guides you out of Cyclone’s office, ignoring the other two men in the room.

He knows he should get you somewhere private, somewhere safe before he tries to get through to you but he has no idea how long you’ve been in there and speed seems of the essence. He stops halfway down the hallway, turning to place his back to the office, protective, shielding you as he reaches to cup your jaw and stroke his thumb across your cheek. He searches your eyes, trying to keep the fear out of his own at the glazed-over and empty look in yours. “Bunny? Hey Bunny, come back to me, baby. I know you’re in there, Bunny, come on.”

He’s not sure how long he stands there whispering soft coaxings and reassurances to you. The worry rising in his mind and making his heart race threatens to take him under too because it’s been far too long when finally he watches the light return to your eyes. “There you are, Bunny. You okay, baby?” He can’t even be bothered with wondering when he started calling you baby. The relief rushing through him is overwhelming and he almost doesn’t catch you as your knees buckle suddenly. He throws an arm around your waist and leans the two of you against the wall, not trusting himself to keep you both upright. You nod up at him, still silent before you call his name and your voice is almost unrecognizable as it croaks out and he almost sobs at the sound. “Yeah, baby? I’m right here, Bunny.” He wants you to know that you’re safe now, that he’s not going to let anything happen to you, that you don’t have to be afraid of anything, least of all Cyclone.

“What were you- How’d you- Why’d you do that?” You trip over your words and Jake shakes his head gently. His heart aches at the idea that you wouldn’t expect him to defend you after everything you’d done for him.

“It’s like I said this morning, Bunny. We make a good team. You really think I’d let you get away when we’re just getting started?” Your eyes warm despite the apprehension he still sees in them and he feels the sudden urge to kiss that apprehension away. He’s taken aback at his strong feelings. When did that happen? You weren’t even his friend yesterday and now he’s putting his job on the line for you and wanting to kiss you here in the hallway outside his boss’s office. He doesn’t have long to consider these questions as the door down the hall opens again and you step out of his arms as Maverick comes walking towards the two of you. He has to fight every impulse to not pull you back to him, Maverick be damned but he puts on his most professional smile as he turns to face his coach just as he claps a hand on Jake’s shoulder.

#snitches get stitches // sdd #san diego dogfighters #san diego dogfighters au #san Diego dogfighters hockey au #Jake seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin x you #no use of y/n #jake seresin x bugs #sgs // sdd

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cherrybeartoast · 4 months

Text

things my family (and friends) have said irl as things skz would say

tagging @hannahhbahng since harper was a lil excited about the last one !!!

chris:

"i'm unpredictable. i'm dangerous. i just put on my indicators and went straight."

"aw, thank you, you saved me a spot while i was busy rolling my ankle!"

"and while you finish that off im gonna draw some faces on eggs. because i’m an adult and i can."

"break your mate's hand...assert dominance...actually make sure they have medical insurance first."

*standing in the doorway* "i AM outside. i can feel the wind in my...beanie."

minho:

"if someone hits you, kill their mother."

"yeah, yeah, you don't wear sunscreen bc it makes you feel gross, y what'll feel grosser? chEMOTHERAPY, DUMB BITCH!"

"no offence? there is a fence! i have so many fences, i have a whole ass yard."

"c'mon now you've been through sexual education, you know how these things happen."

"you're not putting on your jumper right. you're meant to like, suffocate three times during the process, it's just sliding on nicely."

"i am jamie oliver reincarnated- oh wait he's not dead yet."

changbin:

"the rabbits eat the carrots and then the carrots eat the...oh wait that doesn't work."

"i'm sorry about my language but...it's fricking lit."

"do you mind if i eat my peanuts?"

"my goodness your hydrangeas are looking SMASHING!"

"is 'flamboyant' a good word to use?"

"those are the beaniest beans i've ever beaned."

hyunjin:

"i said bless you twice. i'm not saying it again."

"they're RECYCLED pants. they're made from crushing OLD PANTS, and turning them into NEW PANTS."

"i'm going to grammar my essay. full stop, full stop...talky marks, another full stop."

"no, because i am an inconsistent queen."

"well it is study skills, you're skilling your studies, studying your skills."

"pft, well, someone owns the moon!"

jisung:

"i sat in the freezer once for like 10 minutes and it was SO COLD."

"and maybe that's just my excessive people pleasing wait does your ear cuff go all the way around okay good."

"and so i tried talking to...i'm about to fall asleep."

"woah...trauma jokes are DEEP."

“eueOEHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! cancelcancelcancelcancelcancel.”

"living that pre-christian lifestyle!"

"you give a fish a man a day, that day, a man a live."

felix:

"you look very nice and golden. like a nice toasted waffle."

"no don't swear! the frog i'm playing in crossy road might be very young."

"I TOLD YOU EVERYTHING WAS FINE STUPID DUOLINGO MAN!"

"no we have to do it prehistorically."

"maybe i identify as a salamander."

"i don't think that's possible, i'm a morning person."

seungmin:

"it's not cheating, it's psychological consultation."

"in the nicest possible way, you look like a white rapper."

"no, i'm not writing CHAPTER THE THIRD, dumbass."

"thanks for the gift but my birthday was like four months ago and this is a library book."

"that never would've happened if you had SAFER CHAIR ETIQUETTE."

"that's like saying oh you have 5mins to answer this questioHA NEVERMIND!"

"MWAHAHAAHA my rat is coming along!"

jeongin:

"they're being PRODUCTED!"

"pretty sure he practices snoring."

"yeah, you love me. but not like that. no homo."

“HOW CAN YOU COMPARE SOMEONE TO A USELESS ORGAN THAT NOBODY LIKES BECAUSE IT EXPLODES?”

"if i just use really descriptive words...anne. frank. died. badly. anne frank died badly by death which is sad because she died by death."

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a-libra-writes · 11 months

Note

as I wallow in my fever filled misery I binge your blog for most of the day and i absolutely love it, i hope it's okay if i ask for whoever you want from ASOIAF with their sick s/o love you

Im sorry this is hittin so late anon! I hope you recovered well~ Here's a couple peeps for ya.

Brandon - He's terrible at noticing when he's getting sick himself, and actually sitting and resting ... so while Brandon will notice when your energy is low or you don't feel well, he doesn't worry until you finally collapse. Then he feels terrible while he carries you back and you're set up in a spare room (he wouldn't mind sharing the bed, but he's already been lectured to death by the maester about what a bad idea that is. He doesn't care he probably sneaks into the spare room anyway.

Because Brandon is restless on a good day, so when you're feeling ill and awful, he's distracted. He keeps thinking about you throughout the day, and checks on you often. If you're not improving, he's doggedly following the maester around and hovering and trying to be useful and just ends up getting kicked out. Everyone's relieved when you finally improve, and yes, he gets sick because he couldn't stay away but it barely knocks the guy out. Not fair.

Ned - Ned would be the one who notices your energy dropping and the loss of appetite in combination with the change in weather. It's especially uncanny if you're someone who doesn't get sick often, and he still figures it out. He's also the type who offers you warm food and rest early on, in hopes you'd shake off the cold early. It's all fun and games to tease Ned about being a mother hen until your sickness gets worse and you're stuck in bed. Great. He won't say "I told you so", buuut he still laughs a little when you complain about being stuck in bed all day.

Ned feels bad about you having to be holed up in a spare room, though, but at least you're in one of the heated ones. He visits at least three times throughout the day, bringing whatever you need and keeping you company if you'd like it. If you're the sort who wants to be totally alone when you're sick, he respects it, but he's gotta stop by to at least say goodnight. Also, it's just Ned's luck that he gets sick just days after you do, every. single. time. It's usually worse, too.

Benjen - He does what he can with what's available at the Wall. While he keeps his usual jovial self up around you, wanting to encourage you, he privately worries about your health. Benjen sneaks in extra furs and extra food - If anyone catches him, all he has to do is drop the smile and glare them down. It's surprisingly effective. He'd like to stay by your side all day and night, but he can't risk getting ill himself and there's work to do.

So Benjen comes in in the morning and late evening, starting by giving you a kiss on the brow, then making sure you're comfortable, then showing off whatever he snuck out of the kitchens. He's got a nautral and relaxed bedside manner, but can be surprisingly stern if you try to get up before you're ready. Maybe if this was the South, but the Wall isn't the place to risk it. Oh and he gets sniffles and sick later bc he kept up with the kissing.

Stannis - What a surprise, Stannis matter of factly states you're in no condition to go about your usual business, and you ought to set up in the spare room. Maester is called, food brought, medicine taken, done and done, right? Back to work. The thing is, if you often ask for him and you're clearly not feeling well, he has a difficult time getting back to his duties. He tells you many times to call a servant, but the guilt actually starts to bother him, especially if you get worse before you get better. Stannis sits on the very edge of the bed (his bedside manner is hilariously bad, don't worry,) and keeps asking you to go back to sleep and stop chattering.

His own health actually isn't that bad, especially considering the seige, but guess what. That one time you got out of bed to get something yourself, he caught you and irritably carried you back? That's what gets him. Stannis still doesn't get as sick as you do, but he's definitely bellyaching about it while you take care of him.

Oberyn - He's the sort of man whose either a godsend when you're sick, or driving you up a wall. It depends! If you want constant attention and fussing, Oberyn will indulge in your neediness all you want. He rather likes it, feeling like he's helping even if you don't immediately improve. If you want to be left alone to puke and snot in peace, well ... he has a hard time staying away. Oberyn wants to be the one bringing your medicine and food, whatever you need, and he wants to stay and linger. Even if it's just to chat, or run his hand down your back.

And yes, he’ll still want to share the bed unless you’re in an absolutely awful state. You'll have to kick Oberyn out eventually, or just move to one of the guest rooms yourself, otherwise he’ll get sick - except he never does, the jerk. Must be all the citrus.

Ashara - She's also the sort of person who would pick up on the weather changing and the change in your attitude, and point out you're probably getting sick. She says it so suddenly, and it's so early, you wouldn't believe her ... aaand two or three days later, you're laid out in bed. Just great. Once the maester is done with his business, Ashara likes to visit if it's just a cold. She's smart about being careful where she touches you, not getting too close, avoiding your cough, she even brings a citrus fruit basket and implores you to eat some. Her bedside manner is lovely too, and she brought your favorite book? Alright, this isn't so bad.

She will stay away if you start getting worse, and it just makes her worry more. In that case she's making sure the maester is bringing in gifts, even if you feel too poorly to enjoy a book or a bouquet of flowers - it's about knowing that someone cares and is worried about you.

Asha - It's straight to the spare room with you. Nope, no whining, no ifs or buts, no kisses no matter how much you whine about it. Asha loves you but she is not about to have you snotting and coughing all over the bed. At least she's not about to let you be totally miserable, Asha's pretty good about barking at you to eat more and drink water. There's not a lot in the way of medicine on the Iron Islands, but Asha's recovered from some pretty nasty spells before. She figures you'll do the same.

... There's some worrying when it takes a while. If you try to be stubborn and suffer through what's probably pneumonia, then Asha will drag a maester over from the greenlands by his ankles. Hiding weakness like a proper Ironborn is all well and good until you're coughing blood, then she calls you a fool and fusses endlessly.

Roose - He'll tell you that you're getting sick, and mention you ought to do something about it. His suggestions are pretty terrible, though - no, Roose, you aren't drinking that weird wine or doing leeching or bleeding or whatever. You're fine. Except when the flu finally hits, and you're fighting off his damn maester with a stick. Weird treatments aside, Roose seems like his aloof self, though you're also too addled by fever and congestion to pay attention to his comings and goings. He's actually keeping a close eye on your progress and more or less threatening the maester and servants that he expects you to improve within a fortnight, as if they can directly control it. Well, they better figure something out.

Getting worse means Roose actually ending your sickroom, as if there's something others have missed that only he can see. He spends a lot of time ... watching, and while his face is impassive, there's worry. A lot of worry. He might start disposing of the help and this maester if you don't get better. A lot of the irrational, explosive bloodlust anger that he's spend years burying down is starting to bubble up and there's not a lot of outlets for it. Once your condition turns around, it calms itself, if only for a while. He still won't forget his servant's incompetence.

Jaime - For seasonal colds and a yearly flu, Jaime is gonna avoid you like the plague because a) he hates getting sick and b), all the snotting and vomitting is gross. ... And Jaime's actually not good at dealing with a loved one whose ill, both in the sense it's difficult to see them that way, and he has no idea what to do. You think his father gave a damn when he was ill, or let that be an excuse to stop training? You think his siblings had any idea what a good bedside manner was?

It's easy for him to tease once you're recovering and able to leave the sickroom, though his barbs aren't as pointed. It isn't easy when you aren't recovering quickly, or when you get worse. He doesn't know what to do with himself, so Jaime acts out in a way, threatening the maester, being in an irritable mood, having no way to help because this isn't his area of expertise.

#i feel like i did something similar but i have no ideaaaaa #anyhoo!#game of thrones x reader #got x reader #brandon stark x reader #ned stark x reader #benjen stark x reader #stannis baratheon x reader #oberyn martell x reader #asha greyjoy x reader #roose bolton x reader #jaime lannister x reader #ashara dayne x reader

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sweet-villain · 2 years

Text

Now or Never~ Joseph Quinn

Requested : yes

Request :

Anonymous asked:

Hi!! I was wondering if u could do a Joseph Quinn x reader where they’re roommates and there flat has kind of become like the chill spot for the cast so they’re all very good friends so ofcourse they all go out together (she also smokes), she’s seen in pictures with them or just like pics of her and Joseph grocery shopping/hanging out and she gets a ton of hate bc the fans think that she’s his girlfriend (she isnt, but they also have unspoken feelings for each other so you can play with that too :) ) so one day she just breaks down in front of him bc its getting too much for her to handle… and you can decide how you end it :)) thank you in advance!!

" Good morning sunshine" Joseph greets you as you make your way into the kitchen, grumbling under your breathe " good morning" making him chuckle. His chuckle makes your stomach flow with butterflies. He had this huge smile on his face watching you rub your eyes but his gaze drops watching the skin of your stomach show a little as you stretched. His breathe hitched in throat wanting nothing more than to run his fingers over the skin. He bets your skin is so soft.

You reach for some eggs in the fridge bending over a bit making Joseph swallow the lump in his throat as he watches your backside traveling his gaze to your ass in those short shorts you wore to bed. He looked away feeling his cheeks and ears becoming red.

You were beautiful. The two of you shared a flat, being roommates and best friends. You turn around to face Joseph wanting to ask if he had breakfast already but he is looking away. This makes you frown as his attention isn't on you as it usually is.

" Would you like something to eat?" you ask him, your voice is soft as a whisper bringing his attention back to you. He shakes his head.

" No thank you, sweetheart. I already had something" He softly smiles before taking a pack of cigarets from his pocket. " I"m going to have a smoke." He brushes past you in a hurry in seems. It's not that he didn't want to be near you, he wanted to be near you more than anything but he was nervous and his hands were shaking. He needed to calm down.

You shrugged it off preparing breakfast before shouting. " We need to go to grocery store! We are running out on a few things. You know I love to cook, will you come with me?"

There is silence for a bit as you cook breakfast but hear Joseph reply, " Yeah, sure lovely."

The damn nicknames always gets to you. It made you blush and nervous. He doesn't really use those nicknames anyone but you, you find it strange. But whenever Jamie stops by he always nudges you and wiggles his eyebrows as if he knows something. Jamie has grown really close to you since he and Joseph had.

Even the whole Stranger Things cast did, they all loved you and considered as if their own sister. They always awed about you and Joseph having moments together.

" We are just friends" you would always says.

" Yeah sure" they would reply back, not believing you. But you can't tell Joseph how you feel. You didn't want to ruin the friendship you both had and you shared the flat with him after all. If things went south, where would you go?

He was one of the best things that happened in your life. He entered it making everything better, you never told him how you felt though. You didn't want to lose him.

But he had been single for as long as you remembered. You never asked him why he didn't bring a girl home, ever. You just let it be. But always wondered. On the other hand Joseph always admired you, adored you from afar, loved hearing you talk and listen about your day if both of you didn't see each other. You had his heart and he was scared to give it to you. You were one of many that stepped into his life for the better.

When he was casted as Eddie in Stranger Things, you were his number one supporter. Helping him with his lines if he needed, he brought you to set a few times to meet the cast who are your best friends now and meeting the directors too, they all loved you there.

They all said the same thing that you and Joseph were meant to be together. That you were his already. They saw it. You didn't.

He was a friend as much as it hurts to say it.

As you finished eating breakfast and putting away the dishes, Joseph walked into the kitchen seeing you had cleaned up already.

" Oh sweetheart, I could of done that" he said mentioning to the dishes. You shook your head, " It's okay, I got it."

Gently smiling at him with a touch on his arm causing him to shiver in delight. He glances down at his feet before looking back at you as you look at him with a soft smile.

" Something wrong?" you ask. He shook his head, " No, go get ready and we will go get the things you need for your cooking."

You nod leaving him standing there in a blushing nervous state. He was still in shock feeling the touch from your hand on his arm. He felt it. The sparks were there.

As you entered the shops with Joseph, you had not noticing that the paparazzi were snapping pictures of the two of you. It became unnoticed. You were more focused on preparing dinner tonight as the cast would be coming over meaning Jamie, Joe, Sadie, Millie and the rest would be coming over to hang out. You wanted to impress them with your cooking as they never had it.

Joseph had talked to them that they were all missing out how fantastic of a chef you were. But you were far from it, you learned to cook from your mother who was gladly sharing her recipes with you.

" You don't have to do this if you don't want to" Joseph stands next to you by the cart dropping the items you told him to get. You shook your head.

" I know, but I want to do it. I know you love my cooking, but I want to hear from our friends. Plus Jamie told me how you babbled your mouth about my skills."

He giggled. What a beautiful sound.

" It's true! You are amazing chef" you playfully rolled your eyes and grabbed one more item from the self.

" I just learned from my mom" he nodded. " When is she coming to visit again?"

" Next month I believe, she said something along the lines " I need to see you honey soon but that boy Joseph too."

He laughed shrugging, your mom absolutely loved Joseph and his personality. He greeted her with hugs and smiles, he was polite and your mom always told you he would be a great catch for you.

Everyone kept telling you this but you were just friends. Even if it hurts to say it every time.

Joseph helped you carry the groceries to the flat refusing for you to bring anything. " Joseph, give me at least one bag" he grumbled something due to the bag in his mouth he was carrying. You sighed following him, opening the door as he steps inside.

He sets everything in the kitchen.

" Not a chance. You aren't bringing these bags in, I adore you, but there is no need when I am around" he was really sweet.

" Awe, aren't you cute!" you blurred out, your heart racing not believing the words that let your mouth right now. Joseph paused as he processed your words, his cheeks becoming red as rubs the back of his neck.

" I do try, sweetheart"

After that he helps you put away the groceries before looking at the time.

" Oh!" you hadn't even noticed the time, they would be here soon and you haven't even started. Joseph watches as you took pans out and started to cook. He was in awe of you, every day and even now as you hurried to prepare the meal.

" Don't rush, they will love it anyways because you took the time and effort to do this for them" He says coming up behind you grabbing your shoulders, squeezing them as he looks down at you. Your cheeks are red feeling him so close to you.

" I know, thank you" looking at him over the shoulder he shot you a smile that made your heart race. It was one of those smiles he did but only for you.

An hour has passed and you need a smoke. Heading to the window, opening it letting the breeze out. It touched your cheeks as you took out a cigarette bringing a lighter to it. As you took a puff out not even noticing Joseph had walked in, changed and looking really nice.

He cleared his throat to catch your attention. As you turned around to face him, the cigarette from your mouth dropped on the carpet, your mouth a jar as you stare at him. He looked really good right now.

" Y/N!"he shouted bringing you out of your thoughts and pointed down on the ground. You looked down wide eyed hurrying to take the cigarette away to not ruin the carpet as you flicked it out the window.

" Shit!" you mumbled kneeling on the ground rubbing on the carpet to get the ashes out of it. Joseph shook his head as he walked over squatting down as he took your hands in his.

" Stop, don't worry about it" he says. But your gaze is on his hand in yours. Your eyes locked with his but he breaks the contact as he clears his throat again standing up.

You follow him and really look at him. He looks so good tonight, he always does but about tonight, he took extra to make himself good. For you.

"I need to get back in the kitchen" he nods but as you slip past him, your hand touches his and there is that spark again. You reach the kitchen doors placing both your hands on either side trying to grasp your breathing.

You two just had a moment. This has been happening all day today so far.

A knock comes to the door and Joseph answers it. You hear Jamie's voice, along with the others. They all came together it seems.

" it smells so good" someone says, you noticed the voice of Millie.

" Hey there, darling" you hear Jamie as he stand next to you. You glance up to shoot him a smile, but he sees the worry in your face and the look in your eyes.

" What's the matter?" He ask, you shook your head but before you answer him Millie walks into the kitchen with Joe, Finn, Caleb, Sadie, Gaten, Natalie and Charlie.

" Hi guys!" you greet each of them as they hug you tight.

Joseph stands in the back watching as everyone greets with his own smile on his face. He loves the happiness in your eyes as you greet everyone. He loves it when you happy because he is happy too.

Jamie watches him from where he is standing as he makes his way over.

" When are you planning to tell her?" He asks nudging his side. Joseph blinks as he notices Jamie has asked him something. " Huh?"

Jamie laughs and repeats himself. " I can't"

" yes you can, she looks at you the same way you look at her. She loves you"

Joseph didn't want to believe what Jamie was saying. He was scared.

You finished making dinner and everyone sat around the table to talk, when in the middle it Sadie brings your attention.

" Y/N? Have you seen this?" she asks bringing her phone up for you to see. You can't really see what it says but you noticed the picture. It was your hoodie that you were wearing today with Joseph by your side.

" what does it say?" Millie asks. Sadie looks at everyone not knowing if she should say or not when she locks eyes with you.

" It's a post about you and Joseph from today I'm guessing, there are a few more pictures. But the comments.." you take her phone from her hands reading through them.

They all mention how he shouldn't be with someone like her. How he deserved someone much prettier than her. It just kept going and going. These were his fans and they all hated you and assumed you and Joseph were dating. Your eyes were glossy reading the comments. The table was silent.

" Y/N.." someone said your name but the comments were was you just focused on. You excused yourself from the table running to your room locking the door collapsing on your knees.

Your back was to the door as you sobbed. You never imaged people be this cruel. To you. You did nothing wrong but words hurt and they were hurting you now.

A knock came to the door, " Sweetheart? It's Joseph. Open the door"

" Go away" you told him through your tears.

Joseph already saw the comments and the pictures. It hurt him to see you run out in tears. He couldn't believe his fans would treat you like this. He was anger at them.

" Please" he begged. " I want to help" he says. He waits a few moments before hearing the door unlock and he enters. His heart cracks seeing you sitting on the bed, shoulder shaking hearing you cry.

He never wanted to be the reason why you cried.

" Oh sweetheart" he kneels before you cupping your face with his one hand while the other is resting on your thigh rubbing circles as to sooth you.

His heart sinks seeing your running nose, your red teary beautiful eyes. He cups your face with both his hands, his thumb catching the tears that keep falling down your cheeks.

" I'm sorry.." you mumble. He is confused on why your sorry, he should be the sorry one for having fans that don't seem to understand what you are to him.

" Don't be. It's not you, it's them. Don't listen to what they say. Words do hurt, but they don't get you the way I do. They don't know how special you are to me, sweetheart. You make my whole world shine. You make me feel things that I never felt way before..." he says.

You watch him as his eyes become teary too, glassing over with a tear escaping his eye. It hurts your own heart seeing him like this.

" Joseph" you say his name in whisper, so gentle.

" Let me finish"

You nod

" My fans can say whatever they want to say but that shouldn't matter. What matters is right here, you and I. You are so special Y/N, you had no idea. You make my heart melt with just the sound of your voice. You are the first person I want to hear and see when I wake up and the last person I want to hear and see before I go to bed. You have been my biggest supporter with everything, even in my bad days, you make it brighter"

He licks his lips feeling his heart racing.

" What I am trying to say, sweetheart. I have been crazy in love with you for so long and I don't plan on stopping any time soon. You make me better every day, and I want to be the reason for that pretty smile"

He reaches with his index finger poking your nose making you giggle.

" Especially that giggle"

Your mouth is wide open at his confession, he is waiting for your answer and he is scared that after everything he said, he was going to lose you.

" Joseph..." you start to say, he gulps feeling like this wasn't what he wanted to hear after all this time. He was ready.

" I love you too" He gasps at your words, his hand coming in the back of your neck pulling you into him. Your lips danced against his wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing him back.

Both of you smiling against each other lips.

" Awe! Finally!"' you hear from the door. Both of you pulled away to see your friends gushing and smiling at you two. Joseph and your cheeks turn red and look at each other with smiles.

Everything was going to be okay

#Joseph quinn #imagine joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #jewls writes #I was so happy when I got this request #thank you anon for requesting it #I hope you guys like it and don't let it flop

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blackjackkent · 1 month

Note

Letter prompts - any or all!

Minsc to Hector

Lae'zel to Gale

Rion to Karlach

Shadowheart to Isobel and Aylin

Nine Fingers to Jaheira

(Letter fic prompts!)

TY as always for the prompts, friend! <3 Sorry it took a bit to get them done, but I did all of them bc I loved the ideas so much. XD

-----

(Minsc to Hector - a note scribbled on a crumpled piece of parchment with one corner slightly chewed off. Left on Hector's bedside table in the Elfsong, three hours before dawn on the cold, rainy morning before the battle with the Netherbrain.)

My friend!

Do not fear to find Minsc’s bunk empty when you wake; know that I have gone ahead to clear the path! The sewers that stand between us and our wrinkly foe are well known to Minsc and Boo, and we shall see to it that they are well-scrubbed of evil that might hinder us in our final journey. A fine tale it would make for us to travel towards a battle for the world's fate and be delayed by a passing bandit!

Should we have no further time to speak before all is chaos, Boo wishes you to know you have been a fine companion, a hero to rank high among all those he has traveled with. And Minsc would say the same, though Minsc does not juggle words with Boo’s skill.

Boo and I have traveled across many years in an instant, and much has changed. We did not think to find a company with which we could feel heroes again, not least after Minsc was made a puppet of the Absolute’s worm. With Jaheira, with you, Minsc has remembered what it is to be alive, to fight for goodness, and this city's every shadow trembles to know it.

Though evil brings the brain, Hector and his friends shall bring the brawn! And Minsc is proud to be among them!

(signed with the letter M and a very small pawprint in ink)

-----

(Lae'zel to Gale - a note carved in the spiraling gith script into a large flat rock, lacking the fine materials of true githyanki slate, written in camp deep in the Underdark.)

When you can read this, you may consider yourself a true scholar worthy of the secrets of githyanki magic. Until then, cease your inane questioning of matters far beyond your appreciation; my time is better spent in recuperation than in the education of overambitious istik.

A note is attached to the rock, written in Common in careful, precise handwriting: Ever so sorry to disappoint you, my dear sa’varsh, but my inane questioning shall continue unabated. I do, however, thank you for the opportunity to reacquaint myself with Comprehend Languages! I so rarely get a chance to turn that one out for a bit of exercise.

Below these words on the note is scribbled a considerably less meticulous tir’su spiral scrawled in ink: That is *not* what I meant, and you know it, kainyank.

-----

(Rion to Karlach - a note sent by standard post to the Elfsong, several days after the party's visit to Elerrathin's Home.)

Karlach,

You're kidding me - you're Pluck Cliffgate's kid? I carried messages for him now and again; he talked about you plenty, and I did see you once, maybe seven years old, darting all over the Wide like a little hurricane. Small world, I guess. Odd to think that I’m more or less the same and you’ve shot up to be taller than I am. Elf blood’s a funny thing.

I know you’re hoping for exciting stories about growing up with the High Harper but the truth is I don’t have much to offer. She wasn’t any kind of “heroic adventurer” to me - she was just Mother, and she never much liked to talk about the past, not even about my father. I heard more about her from bards in taverns than I ever heard from her own mouth - and some of it I wish I could scrub back out of my brain.

You ever hear a bawdy called “The Harper’s Head”? Yeah, now imagine that was your mum they were singing about. Awful.

She was good to us, though, in her own way. I know you saw me bite her head off and her bite mine right back; that’s just how we’ve always been. But she saw to it I grew up strong, that I knew how to fight, and how to keep my head down when the time called for it. Harper things, mostly, even though I don’t think she ever wanted me to be one.

She taught me how to take no shit, too. Her mistake, because now I don’t take hers either. But I think she’d rather that than otherwise.

After a while, the other kids just started drifting in - first for a meal here or there, then a bed, then before you knew it, this was their home. Another one in the pack. It’s strange, really. I always knew deep down - even when I was a kid who didn’t have words for it yet, just knew it was confusing and it hurt - that part of her really wanted to be back on the road, not tied down with us in this mess of a city. But somehow every time one of us moved out, she’d found another to bring in, almost like clockwork.

I think she’s been looking for something, all this time. But I don’t think she knows what it is, any more than I do, or what she’d do with it if she found it.

Not an exciting story, like all the tales you’ve heard. But it’s truth; I can tell you that much.

It probably won’t surprise you that I haven’t had a message from her since you left. But you can tell her I’m off to the refugee camp in the morning. We’ll hold our end of things, and see they’re taken care of. Take care of that bloody brain, and maybe I’ll find a better story to tell when you’re done.

Rion

-----

(Shadowheart to Aylin (and Isobel by proxy); several conjoined messages by a series of Sending spells, dispatched from somewhere on the edge of Waterdeep)

> Aylin… your mother's house is beautiful. I never imagined such a place. It's… foolish, perhaps, but I wanted to let you know I've seen it.

> I still carry the spear with me. Once dark, now light. Like me. Still surprised you didn't crack us both across your knee like Lorroakan.

> You gave me a second chance. I hadn't earned it; I wanted to kill you. The great difference between Shar and Selune. Cruelty versus mercy.

> A lot’s happened since then. I found my parents. Shar's last joke at my expense. You were right about everything. That I had to act.

> So I'm free now. Of all of it. One day I will think of a way to repay you both for your kindness. Your wisdom.

> I don't know what plans call you now, but should you travel near Waterdeep in the next fortnight-- OW! Yes, yes, I'll tell her, calm--

[a slight pause]

> Please also tell Isobel that Buddy says hello. The morsels she used to slip him in camp have purchased her a permanent owlbear friend.

-----

(Nine-Fingers to Jaheira - a note left in a dead drop at Danthelon’s in the middle of the night.)

Jaheira. You’ve GOT to call off the Rashemaar. He’s driving us all insane trying to teach us the good path; on all the gods, either I’m going to beat the hells out of him or someone else will. I don’t care what you do - take him on an adventure, lock him in the cellar, turn him into a statue again, hold the hamster for ransom. But something. Fuck’s sake.

He listens to you. Starting to think you’re the only one he does listen to. Like a pup with one master. It’d be cute if it wasn’t so infuriating.

We all want the same thing - this city safe and strong. But he’s got to learn that we don’t all go about it the same way, or sooner or later there’s going to be trouble.

Astele NF

#ask meme #astreamofstars #hector carlisle #minsc #lae'zel #gale dekarios #rion bg3 #jaheira #karlach #nine fingers keene #shadowheart #dame aylin #isobel thorm #these were fun to write c:#hope you enjoy <3 #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction

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merakiui · 1 year

Note

PUPPYBOY FLOYD PUPPYBOY FLOYD PUPPYBOY FLOYD AAAAAAAAA UR SO RIGHT MERA he'd be the sweetest little puppy yet the moment you turn away from him he's already messing everything up (definitely not so you pay attention to him bc he doesn't like when you pay attention to anything other than him, he's so annoying in the best of ways <333 orz) He should be punished for being a bad boy, but his puppy eyes are so powerful no one can resist them,,, (i'm no one) Even when he starts humping you in the most inappropriate places there's no way you can be mad for more than 5 minutes

And catboy Jade being the worst menace known to mankind - definitely the kind of cat to swat everything off a table of counter while looking you straight in the eye. He's absolutely awful, but can you really get mad when he looks so cute napping on your lap? (you really ought to, he's only going to get worse and more daring if you let him misbehave) So many thoughts, both horny and not,, tweels are just too perfect orz

(also, could I be 🦈anon? I sent in a request for the lunar love hotel asking but obviously it'll take some time for you to answer that one!)

YES YES YES puppyboy Floyd is so physical with you, always wanting to cuddle with you or, more commonly, hump you from behind. He loves caging you in against the countertop if you're preparing food in the kitchen, distracting you from your main priority by rutting against you, breath hot and wet in your ears... he's so clingy, so needy, so whiny whenever you ignore him or aren't giving him enough attention. He especially hates it if you bring unfamiliar scents into the house. His nose is very keen, as is his sense of hearing, so he'll know when and if you're home before you're even turning the key in the lock.

When he's in particularly nasty moods, he has a tendency to destroy things or make a mess, but he'll help pick things up if you seem truly angry or upset with him (he always makes it up to you by snuggling with you in bed or even preparing your favorite meal; he tries to make it up to you with sex, but you always stop him and he pouts about it. >:( Floyd's always considerably sadder if you yell at him, call him a "bad boy," or ignore him out of frustration. But he's perfected the puppy eyes, so it's really impossible to stay angry for long). You've started fixing this habit of his by providing him with things to chew on or squeeze (like stress toys) so that he won't take his feelings out on the decor in your house.

Catboy Jade... very much a menace and a nuisance and a misbehaving catboy!!!! But he's so cute (and so mischievous), so how can you possibly be cross with him? :< he's very cute when he's napping. He looks so content, and when he purrs when you scratch his head or behind his ears (or when he leans into your hand with that cute, sleepy smile) it's enough to have you cooing so sweetly at him. Sometimes he'll lick your hand a few times before biting down hard, as if he's marinating it. T_T but he's cute, so even if he shreds your curtains or destroys the belongings of any friends (or hopefully not romantic partners) who visit he can be forgiven!!!

He's also a catboy who's fond of water!! He loves to take baths with you. >:) and though he often sleeps in his own bedroom, every morning without fail you'll wake to find him curled against you. Though sometimes he likes to stay up late into the night to do all manner of fun things; if you feel a sandpaper tongue against your bare skin while you're sleeping, don't pay it any mind! You're most likely dreaming about it. :) (catboy jade is a lover of somnophilia hehehe) you're so right when you say he will get worse if you let him misbehave. If you keep forgiving him for every devious thing he does, sooner or later you'll wake to him lovingly fucking you so slowly into the sheets. <3

(aaaa the tweels are so perfect yes!!! I always have too many thoughts for them. They give off such catboy and puppyboy energy, so thinking about them as a catboy and puppyboy... it's too good. orz and you may absolutely be the 🦈 anon!!! I also received your request for LLH, so I'm eager to write it!!)

#twisted chit chat #🦈 anon #puppyboy floyd #catboy jade

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m1d-45 · 1 year

Text

…was birthed chalk

summary: any smith that discards a perfectly good blade holds no amount of power over the craft. perhaps it’s better, then, that the sword is passed onto one who knows better.

word count: 6.1k (good lord-)

-> warnings: spoilers for albedo lore, rhinedottir is Awful and albedo has a small crisis over it.. a metaphor that may or may not make sense only bc i was the one that wrote it

-> gn reader (they/them)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yum1x || @esthelily || @dedef7890

<< part 1 || < masterlist >

when albedo wakes up, the sun has long since risen.

it’s not a surprise, as he stayed up rather late simply thinking, but it was inconvenient.

he sighed and reached for his nightstand, tying up his hair just enough to go through the motions of the morning. it was a fast, familiar, memorized pattern, quickly waking him up and getting him ready for the day. he rushed a little bit, knowing he’d woken later and rhine was expecting an explanation, but he still exited his room with hardly a yawn, moving for the kitchen. maybe he could indulge a bit, have something sweet- to wake him up, of course, and drain the remnants of sleep from him.

he barely had the chance to step over the threshold before rhine’s door opened and she walked out, bag over one shoulder and a folder in the other. she looked over at him, eyes sweeping over his clothes.

“what are you dressed like that for?”

he glanced down at himself. he wasn’t wearing anything stained or torn, and was practically identical to what he’d worn yesterday. a white shirt and pants, thick enough nothing spilled would quickly reach his skin but thin enough that it wasn’t a hassle if they needed to be disposed of. the same things he always wore.

“what’s the issue, master? is there a fault in my clothing?”

her face twisted like he’d said the sky had turned red. “didn’t i say you were coming with me today? that’s not exactly fit for snow.”

the room suddenly turned into a vacuum, all of the air leaving albedo’s chest even as he took a breath. go with her? where? when had she said so? he would have certainly used the time from yesterday to prepare if she had told him.

“stop staring and change. quickly.”

her words snapped him out of his haze and he nodded, a mumble of ‘right away, master’ clumsily pushed out of his mouth as he rushed by.

what did he wear? he rarely went on trips outside of the lab, and when he did it was never far enough to warrant much more than a simple coat. and where were they going? was it going to be cold? hot? dangerous? would he need to be able to move quickly?

albedo felt like his body was moving on its own, stripping off his shirt and pulling on another before he could make the conscious decision to do so. the flimsy band he used to tie up his hair fell to the floor but he hardly noticed, simply grabbing the more secure one for lab work and wrapping it around his wrist as he continued to change.

he wasn’t sure how, but he eventually made it out of his room in a cohesive outfit, a jacket thrown over his arm. when rhine looked him over again, she couldn’t find a fault, nodding and turning for the door.

albedo fought off a smile.

there was a cold wind outside so he ended up putting on the jacket as they walked, feeling odd about it. it was thick to keep out the chill, but… it was strange to have so much more weight to his movements. similarly, walking in boots instead of simpler shoes felt strange, out of place. he supposed it was simply because he’d never really worn them before, rarely ever venturing out like rhine did…

he followed her through a forest, trying to take in as many details as he could without stopping to sketch. brilliant blue butterflies fluttered on top of yellow flowers, large petals dipping and swaying under the weight. sun streamed through the gaps in the leaves, shifting as the winds rippled through the boughs of oak and pine. it bordered on overwhelming, the sounds of birds he’d never heard distracting him long enough that he nearly tripped over a large root.

rhinedottir huffed, an odd mix of amusement and irritation. “what, you never heard a bird before?”

he tracked a large red one as it hopped across branches, searching for something unseen. “nothing this vibrant… i’ve never been this far from the lab before, master.”

she gave him an odd look. “really? i expected you’d be out and about pretty often.”

he tore his gaze away from the bird to look at her in confusion, but.. she seemed serious. “you told me to practice alchemy, so… i did. i run experiments and rarely leave, only if i’m searching for a substance we’re out of. the farthest i’ve been was only around a five minute walk, to… miss alice called it starsnatch cliff.”

her face twisted at the mention of alice’s name, and she picked up the pace slightly. “don’t talk about her.”

“why? has she done something to upset-“

“just listen to me, alright? don’t.”

the conversation died in an instant, leaving albedo confused once more.

the forest soon broke, the trees dispersing out into a plain, and he looked around, trying to get his bearings. there was a map in the lab but he rarely used it, only ever looking to see if rhine could pick him up a material or another that he needed without going too far out of her way. still, he had a vague memory of it, enough to know the name of the mountain they were approaching.

“is the domain near vindagnyr?”

rhinedottir tensed, her grip on her bag tightening. “it’s called dragonspine.”

the edge to her words shuts down any further questions he had, and he bites his tongue with a nod.

another thing to learn.

they thankfully don’t go deep into the mountain, stopping only on the outskirts. he recognizes the domain they stopped at from the diagram she showed him, the diamond sigils faintly glowing yellow.

he inspected the domain, double checking both the inscription on the bottom and the idea he had to solve it. it seemed like it was feasible, but-

“here.” rhine held out a hand, holding a long sheath. a leather handle stuck out from it, the silver of a guard glittering dangerously, and albedo hesitated before taking it.

“why do i need a sword, master?”

she waved a hand as if it was obvious. “it’s dangerous. now stay here, i’m gonna go find a geo slime.”

“i don’t know how to wield it, are you certain-?”

“if you don’t want it then just leave it behind. it’s useless anyway.”

without any other words, she left, leaving him with a sword he didn’t know how to use.

carefully, he undid the latch and pulled off the sheath, revealing a smooth silver blade. it was simple, with a basic cross guard and a neat edge, but he still felt intimidated by the razor-sharp edge. his specialty was with alchemy, not with blade-work… surely rhine knew that?

albedo flipped the sword over and blinked at the engraving along the center of the blade. wouldn’t it make sense to have it on both sides?

he brought it closer to his face, squinting a bit to make out the words. it was an old sword, evidently, and it showed in the faded marks.

‘as the creator forged, so too do i serve.’

albedo stared.

though the words were blurry and indistinct, he was certain that was what it said. but what did it mean? there it was again, the mention of this ‘creator’, this time on a blade? was it a title, referencing the blacksmith? surely that was what ‘forged’ was there for…

at the sound of footsteps he quickly put the sword back in its sheath, deciding to shelve the thought for later.

rhinedottir came up besides him, chest heaving with effort. one of her hands was carefully cupped, a yellowish slime in her hands. “alright, i’ve got the condensate. whats your idea?”

“the inscription says to take the shortest path and to repeatedly-“

“albedo, the elemental energy in this thing isn’t gonna last.”

ah…. “top right, middle left, bottom left, middle right, bottom right, top left.”

she nodded, walking towards the domain. carefully, she smeared the slime over the sigils in the order he told, each glowing brighter as she went. as every sigil lit up, the path connecting it to the center sigil seeped with energy, flowing down to the middle. when the last of the condensate was pushed into the final sigil, the center one glowed as well, pulsing brightly. with a loud and heavy crack, he domain doors split open, falling inward.

rhinedottir was crouched, wiping the remainder of the slime onto the grass, and she stared at the doors

“you did it.”

warm pride bloomed in albedo’s chest. he had.

he helped her up and she picked up her bag of supplies, but turned to him instead of the door, a stern expression on her face.

“now, albedo, you need to stay close to me, alright? don’t stray off or wander, and if you get lost stay put and shout. domains are dangerous things, and frequently filled with monsters. this one should be empty, but in the case that it isn’t… just don’t go poking around where you shouldn’t.”

he nodded, clutching his sheathed sword a little tighter. a satisfied flicker of a smile crossed rhinedottir’s face before she turned, delving into the domain.

he followed dutifully, making sure to stick to her side. it was hard not to ask to stop and look at a carving on a wall, or an inset of gold upon a door, but the idea of her irritation kept his curiosity at bay. they made their way over mossy and cracked stones, occasionally pushing through creaky, rotten doors or climbing over fallen stone. the air itself felt ancient, important, and he wondered why rhinedottir was searching this one. she want one for history, but surely there wasn’t anything of value here…

they stopped in front of a large door, remarkably intact for the state of the rest of the domain. it was simple, blank, and the only visible mechanism of opening it were the four levers, two on each side.

rhinedottir put her hands on her hips, huffing. “there’s only two of us.”

albedo looked around the room, spotting a large pile of debris and not much else. a plan began to form in his head, a rough draft of possibility, and he wrapped the strap of the sheath around his waist to free his hands. the sword was odd and uncomfortable, but it stayed.

rhine spoke before he could, “any ideas?”

oh.

he cleared his throat, carefully stepping forward to see if she would stop him.

she didn’t.

he approached the lever closest to him, noting the large ball on the end for grip. carefully, he pushed down, surprised to see it gave with little effort. the mechanics were likely rusted and tired, unable to provide the resistance it used to, or maybe the weights had snapped off due to their ropes rotting… whatever the case, it made his job easier.

he let it go, watching it ease back into position, and turned around.

“how heavy is your bag?”

at first, her eyes lit up, but they quickly dimmed. “the angle of the levers is too sharp, it’ll just slide down.”

he shook his head. “no. the levers don’t exert enough force rising up to counter your bag, provided it’s heavy enough. as long as we push it down first, it’ll stay.”

she hesitated, holding the bag tighter, but eventually caved. as she walked over, albedo pushed down the lever again, moving to the other side of it so she could hook her bag on it. her hands hovered around it as he removed his hand, but it held.

a smile spread across her face, and she looked up eagerly. “we need one more.”

albedo turned to the pile of debris and took off his jacket, laying it out on the ground. carefully, he fills it with stone, tying the sleeves together into a handle and carefully hoisting it up. a few rocks slip, but he can tell just by holding it that it’ll work fine.

rhine gets his plan and lowers the lever for him, letting him hang the jacket on it. together, they move to the other side of the door, taking their own levers. creator and creation, in sync, pushing down the levers to a domain.

when the door creaks open, albedo turns to her in joy, delighted at the show of cooperation-

rhinedottir brushes past him, pulling her bag off the lever as she walks past.

the doors begin to slide close and albedo rushes to slip between them, leaving his jacket hanging in his haste, and shivers at the cold in the new room.

it’s dark, more so when the doors shut with a bang. the only light is a pale blue in front of him, the shadow of rhinedottir outlined within it. she’s peering down at something, her bag dropped at her side.

the floor is covered in something dark, something that floats when he kicks at it. he crouched, careful not to touch it, and sees they’re… feathers. thousands and thousands of feathers, littering the floor and walls. they’re large, smooth, as if all the feathers on an impossibly large bird had simply… fallen off.

the sound of a zipper draws his attention, and he looks over, standing. the source of the blue light is gone, the light now white and coming from a headlamp on rhinedottir’s head. she’s zipping up her bag, a self-satisfied smile on her face. “i should have brought you sooner, your skills are a pretty good tool.”

the air went cold.

ice quickly crawled through albedo’s veins, faster than it would naturally just from the chill. an unnatural, frozen mass settled in his stomach, fed the more he turned over rhinedottir’s words in his mind.

she didn’t seem to notice, busying herself with brushing off feathers from a door in the corner, but albedo couldn’t shake it off as easily as she did.

why did it bother him so much?

the walk back to the lab was cold, both because he had left his jacket and because it was nearing nighttime. the lamp on rhine’s head was the only source of light, forcing him to walk behind her and keep his eyes trained on the floor to watch where she stepped. now that it was dark, he could see that something in her bag was glowing, blue light barely edging through the gaps in her zippers. she’s taken something from the domain, but what?

he didn’t notice when they arrived, too lost in his thoughts, only pulled out by the sudden warmth around him. he shut and locked the door and watched as rhine goes through her normal routine. boots off, coat off, bag in hand, and it’s only when she pushes open her door that he takes a step and realizes a problem.

“master?”

she pauses, slight annoyance flashing for a brief moment across her face. “what?”

albedo undoes the loop of the sheath, holding up the sword, but she shakes her head.

“keep it. you’ll need it later.”

without another word, her door closes, the silent click of the lock solidifying the barrier between them.

the next day is wrong.

it’s the only way he can describe it. there’s a tension in the air he can’t quite understand.

he’s cold even under his blanket, and he thinks about putting on his jacket only to remember he doesn’t have it. the floor is cold, and he shivers as he walks to his door.

the fire is out, which explains why the room is so cold, but it still feels empty beyond that. everything is in its place, nothing is overtly missing, but…

albedo grabs a lighter and some tinder, crouching besides the fireplace and relighting it. sparks fly and flame catches, and he stays for a moment to warm up, looking around the room. snow has swept in besides the door, which makes him frown. why would rhine leave again so soon after a discovery?

the fire crackles and pops to life, and he stands, backing away a bit so he doesn’t get burned.

what’s wrong?

why does the room feel so empty?

he turns, intending to check the small table by her door where she sometimes leaves him notes, but his attention catches on his desk.

it’s mostly as it was when they left the day before, with one vital exception: a large and thick book, weighing down two envelopes.

if he had a heart, he had a feeling it cracked.

he feels… a word comes to mind, dread, but he doesn’t understand it, not fully. his breath picks up as he approaches the book, as his shaking hand brushes over the print of his name in his master’s handwriting and he feels cold.

‘albedo,’ it reads. nothing more. nothing less.

his chest feels tight, his mind running rampant as it tries desperately to catalogue, define, and diagnose whatever makes him feel so nervous.

carefully, cautiously, albedo pulls the envelope from beneath the leather bound book, feeling afraid.

he pulls out his stool and sits, mostly so he doesn’t feel as nauseous, and rips open the letter, pulling out the twin sheets of paper inside. its… small. the ‘paragraphs’ are barely a line or two long, yet the handful of sentences feel like they’re being forced into his mind by chisel.

Kreideprinz,

I have found what I have been looking for. Locked within the domain we searched was the Heart of Naberius, and I have no further matters to attend to here.

Go to Mondstadt. Find my old friend, Alice, and give her the recommendation letter. Then, complete your final assignment. Any other projects you were working on prior are now void; consider this to be the only one that matters.

Your final assignment: show me the truth and the meaning of this world.

— Gold

he reads and rereads the words over and over again, but they don’t stick. his hands are shaking, worse now, and something in his chest begins to hurt. he checks the other page but only finds a map, the backs of both papers empty. nothing more. nothing less.

albedo drops the papers, if only to read them without the words shaking, but finds that his sight has begun to blur. he wipes the water from his eyes and tries again, and again, and again to understand what’s written in the letter.

rhinedottir always said that if he didn’t perform well she would simply leave; was this the end result of that? had he failed to keep up with the pace she had silently set? was there some silent cue he was meant to follow, something to direct him to the answers she wanted quicker than he would organically find them? was he meant to be quicker, more efficient, was he meant to find things at such an inhuman pace because he was never truly human to begin with?

‘kreideprinz,’ she says (nothing more, nothing less), pretending as if the title from his ‘childhood’ wasn’t something he had clearly failed to earn if she had left, if he had somehow failed. ‘recommendation letter,’ for an ‘old friend,’ as if she hadn’t stopped talking about her after the incident with klee, never inviting them back no matter how many times albedo subtly hinted alice might be able to help her.

even as he stands, as his mind registers the command of his final assignment, a large portion of his mental space is taken up by the instincts she drilled into him, desperately attempting to make sense of at least something.

maybe it’s hunger, his thoughts nudge, but he’s never had the largest appetite to begin with, and accidentally skipping days of meals while he was focused on a project never made his stomach hurt like it did now. he feels- he doesn’t know how he feels, he could stop and sit and think for a year but never know. the words he’s searching for are out of his reach, blurry, unknown to him even as he feels them all the same. he knows that it’s likely some sort of panic response, the ever-analytical sector of his mind forever chugging away and collecting data on his own feelings, but he doesn’t know why.

why?

he pulled a bag from his closet, blankly running through a checklist his brain pulled from thin air. the book rhinedottir left him was tucked into a pocket, the letter put away while the map stayed out. ‘mondstat,’ she said. he’d heard about it from alice—made sense, he was supposed to go there to see her—but while the name was familiar, he still didn’t know where it was.

he’d packed. nearly all of his belongings were tucked within the bag, save for maybe a few of the early textbooks he studied from simply due to space and weight. still, even as he set it on his desk and stared at the map, reading the names yet not registering the information, he didn’t feel ready.

feel. the word was beginning to lose meaning.

he felt things he didn’t understand and didn’t feel what he thought he should. he wasn’t angry that she left without warning, nor sad at the lack of assignments or the vagueness of the one he did receive. he wasn’t resentful—a word that hardly applied to him anyway—because she had left before she reviewed something he’d submitted to her. he wasn’t anything he knew, and everything he didn’t.

he was just… hollow.

albedo wiped the tears from his eyes and made an effort to read the map, understanding only the location of the lab, the marker designating north, and the city labeled mondstat. he folded the map and put it in his pocket, pulling a lab coat over his shoulders and hefting the bag. the door was cold, the wind outside even colder, and as he stared at the key in his palm, he wondered if it was even worth it to lock the door.

metal twisted within metal.

the chalk prince crumbled.

the first thing albedo noticed about mondstat was that it was tall.

buildings stretched higher than he’d ever seen, walls so tall he had to look up to see the guards patrolling along the top, bows in hand.

the second was that it was an island.

he checked the map rhine left him—and blocked out the part of his mind still documenting the bitterness in the back of his throat, wondering if it was emotion or illness—and upon further inspection, if he squinted.. the blurry lines revealed there was in fact water around the city.

he folded it away. at least he knows he has the right place?

he steps from the treeline where he’d been resting, pulling the familiar weight of his bag i’ve this shoulders and-

“albedo?”

he freezes, barely a foot from the shade of the whispering woods.

he turns, slowly, and sees red within one of the bushes. bright, a hat on top of a red coat, blonde twin tails broken up by specks of grass caught within them. the clover charm on klee’s hat caught the light, shining, and a warm pressure built up in his throat.

familiarity.

“klee.”

he can’t stop the way his voice almost cracks, strained with his journey (he’s alone) and the realization he’s been avoiding (maybe he was meant to be)

she lights up upon recognizing his voice, quickly rushing from the bush to latch herself onto his side. her arms wrap around him, and he tentatively sets one of his on her hat, unsure where to put it.

(her hair reminds him of rhinedottir’s, of the time she spent meticulously washing dust and debris from it after a long journey, of the blades of grass she flicked into the fire as she braided it away, tying it with a bright red ribbon alice had gifted her)

“klee’s so happy to see you! what are you doing here? where’s your mom? are you here to stay? oh, can i show you my new dodoco?”

albedo picked through her questions in his mind, deciding which would be safe ones to answer. “i’m here for your mother, alice. i’m… to deliver a letter to her.”

klee backed away, fitting her thumbs under her backpack straps. “klee can take you to her! i was going back to the city anyways.”

he glanced at the forest. “what were you doing there?”

her face suddenly flushed a bright pink, eyes flashing with what he assumed was embarrassment before she rushed forward, taking him by the hand and walking at a shockingly fast pace for somebody so young. “don’t worry about it!”

albedo had a feeling he should.

nonetheless, he followed, letting her lead up up to and across the bridge. it was empty, an eerie feeling settling over it as he walked. he wasn’t sure why; maybe it was the imposing height of the walls? maybe it was the guards in front of the gate, swords at their sides?

(suddenly, he was aware of the blade hanging at his side that rhinedottir had given him. had she known that would be the last time they met? or had she intended to teach him how to wield it?)

(he’s not sure which is more unbelievable)

the guard on the left brought his hand up in what albedo could only assume was some form of salute, in the process slightly blocking their path. “klee. who is with you?”

“this is albedo! he’s the son of a friend of mama’s, and klee’s friend too!”

the knight scanned him up and down, lingering slightly on his sword.

(would he have the heart to hand it over? would he feel better without a reminder of her, or worse that he’d give it up so easily?)

the guard eventually settled with a second salute, dipping slightly in a half-bow. “mondstat welcomes you, strange yet respectable traveler. please state your identity and purpose; the knight of favonius are here to ensure your safety.”

‘knights of favonius’… the name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t tell why. maybe from one of alice’s tales?

still, he dipped his own head in greeting, partially to stall. ‘identity’…

“i am albedo… disciple of rhinedottir in the study of alchemy. i am here to deliver a letter to alice, klee’s mother.”

klee looked up at him with a pout. “you’re not staying longer? what happened to all the things we were going to do?”

he didn’t remember ever committing to anything prior. “that isn’t my choice, klee. even if i wished to stay, i have nowhere to.”

the knight cleared his throat before the conversation could continue. “according to the knights of favonius handbook, we are to accompany travelers through the city as needed…”

“it’s okay mr. knight! klee knows her way around the city! i can take albedo to mama and then show him around.”

the knights were clearly uneasy about the prospect, likely because of klee’s age, but eventually nodded, moving back to their posts.

“mondstat welcomes you.”

klee quickly pulled him forward again, into the city, a quick ‘thank you!’ thrown over her shoulder that was likely lost in the sea of noise.

mondstat was loud. and full. more people than he’d ever seen in his entire life were gathered in just the simple courtyard she pulled him through, the calls of venders and the orders of customers melding together into an indecipherable mess. he was thankful she took him to the side, up a staircase, if only to get away from the massive crowds.

“mama is at a meeting with the knights right now, which is good! you can bring her your letter and get help from the knights at the same time,” klee explained, slowing down slightly from all the stairs. no wonder the walls were giant: so was the rest of the city.

he tugged her back, slowing to a stop. “klee, i don’t think i’ll need the help of the knights. if alice is in a meeting, then we shouldn’t bother her.”

“who said i was in a meeting?”

klee moved faster than he did, turning towards her mothers voice and running towards her, attaching to her side much in the same way she did to him. the thought pulled the corners of his lips into a smile.

“mama!”

alice laughed, catching her daughter easily. “hello, little clover.” she looked up, shock and recognition pooling in her eyes. “albedo? what are you doing here? is rhinedottir with you?”

his muscles tensed at the mention of her name, the memories of the past week of travel threatening to bubble up. he swallowed them down and hoped his voice wasn’t shaky, “no, but i’m to bring you a letter from her.”

alice’s eyes moved to his shoulders, to the large bag he’d been carrying. “are you staying here?”

“…i don’t know.”

her face twisted with something, and she turned her attention to klee before he could ask.

“clover, could you do me a favor?”

klee stepped back, “of course! what is it?”

“i need to read over albedo’s letter and sort some other things out, okay? while i do that, could you show him around the city? he’s never been here, and i’m sure he’d love for you to help him get his bearings.”

klee nodded, clearly excited, and alice walked around her to him. he pulled the letter from his pocket, but she reached for his bag instead. “let me take this.”

“that’s not necessary, i-“

“-have nowhere to go, albedo. i’ll hold your things while you walk with klee.”

something earnest and soft cradled her words, a care to the way she smiled at him when he caved and handed over his bag. he felt lighter without it.

before he could think about it further, alice was gone and klee had taken his hand in hers again, tugging on it.

“albedo? are you okay? you look upset.”

ah….

he tried for a smile. “i was just thinking about something. where do you want to go first?”

she studied him for a moment, squinting slightly, before apparently coming to a decision.

“we’ll go to the cathedral first. mama always says that if you ask the creator really nicely you’ll sometimes get help with whatever your problem is, and you look like you have a lot of problems!”

there it was again, that title…

she began to walk before he could say anything, taking him up let another flight of stairs. this one was longer, curving, and gave him time to figure out how to phrase what he wanted.

“klee?”

she turned, but didn’t so much as slow, “hm?”

“who’s the creator? you left before you could say last time.”

klee did stop this time, so abruptly he nearly ran into her.

“how do you not know? everybody knows.”

she spoke with a mix of confusion and… something akin to indignation, so strange coming from somebody so young that by the time he registered her words, she had pulled him along again, faster.

“everybody knows,” she mumbled to herself. “everybody. the grand master asks for guidance and captain kaeya for wisdom, mama prays for knowledge and klee asks for inspiration. how do you not know?”

he felt bad, somehow, even though it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know. he knew that, he wasn’t a fool, it wasn’t his fault, it was…

(flashes of blonde hair flicker in his mind, the sharp command to ‘try again, and get it right this time’ echoing in his mind. already, it felt like a year ago he last saw her)

(could be truly blame her when his mistakes were his fault?)

klee leads him up to a large building—‘cathedral,’ he remembers—but takes him past the large doors, to the back. at the end, behind it all, was a small park-like space, large stones spaces equally across the space. the stones are carved with words, but she doesn’t let him get closer to read it.

she pointed, and he followed, jumping slightly at what he saw. against the back wall of the cathedral, seeming oddly at rest for being carved of stone, was a large statue. the pedestal it sat on was simple, but littered with offerings, the flowers looking fresh. if he had to guess, it was likely a shrine of sorts, probably to-

“that’s the creator.”

ah. he’d thought as much.

klee sat him down in front of the shrine, beginning to tell a story. it’s simple, one told to children, but it’s gets the message across to him.

the creator was to teyvat what rhinedottir was to him. divine hands shaped the mountains and plains, breathing life into the soil. the very purest form of creation, forming something- forming everything from nothing, the smallest of flowers and largest of trees planted with barely a thought. rivers cut through the earth at will, every blade of grass placed by the hand of the one that made it.

klee told a story of the birth of the universe, of the colors on an invisible pallet that painted the planets and dotted the sky with stars. she sat on stone and fiddled with her dodoco, her voice never wavering as she repeated everything she was told, graciously filling albedo in.

in return, albedo untied the sword at his side, laying it down in front of the shrine. the blade felt uncharacteristically heavy, his hands cold, but he still set it down gently.

it was a lot of information, but he managed, carefully filing everything away as the way he viewed the world slowly changed. it made sense; everything had to come from somewhere, after all.

he looked not at the sheath, but through it, at the inscription along the center. ‘as the creator forged, so too do i serve.’

perhaps he and the blade were more similar than he thought.

no bladesmith made a weapon without a purpose. no alchemist dedicated years to a project only to stop when they reached the final product. nothing was made without being tested, nothing was alive without being taught, no sword was made without an edge.

and yet, somebody had to teach the smith. somebody had to guide their hammer to the stool, their hands along a sharpening stone, trained them in the skills of polishing and oiling. no god created an art without a an artist, and no teacher let their pupil loose without granting them the skills to continue the craft.

no tool existed without intention. no smith existed without their mentor prior, nor without their own student to teach.

rhinedottir may have abandoned him, but his creator never would. they would not let him be set loose without purpose, nor discarded without reason. he could tell, simply by sitting in front of the marble statue, that this was the case.

he could feel it in the wind. in the gentle breeze they guided, sweeping his worth from his shoulders. in the ground beneath him, that never grew uncomfortable. he could sense the subtle presence of the creator, the way the grass seemed to point towards the pedestal of the statue or how the sun seemed a little less harsh back here making it evident. albedo could feel the creator’s intentions as his eyes moved back to the sword, to the reminder of rhine that bore a carved reminder of them, feel the reassurance in the etched words. amidst the sea of confusion surrounding rhinedottir’s disappearance, they had appeared, stretching a hand to pull him out and back ashore, to the banks of stability.

albedo reached back.

they felt warm.

#philosophical rambles + explanations in the tags btw #genshin #genshin impact #sagau #self aware genshin #genshin sagau #sagau impostor au #genshin self aware au #sagau albedo #albedo #genshin albedo #klee #sagau klee #this piece totals a bit over 10k. what does albedo do to me.#oh and to summarize the admittedly kinda shit metaphor: rhine saw albedo as a tool to be used; one she discarded after he served his purpose #sorry fellas :/ i know i tend to be vague but this…. is a whole other level #oh vindagnyr was the name of dragonspine before durin’s body fell on it btw. she’s bitter abt the name bc she saw durin as a failed project #OH and the feathers are bc naberius was described as a raven. sorry for all the explaining i’m doing—#(described as in the genshin wiki referenced wikipedias page on naberius that said raven)#the title is from albedos character story abt a lesson rhine taught him and represents how he understands the creator created him not rhine #< technically. but oh well i hate rhine anyway. at least in this specific fic #also in this rhines final assignment is never meant to be completed. she probably doesn’t think synthetic beings are capable of shit like #feelings or rational thought. her mind: chance of albedo finding meaning in life is <0. too bad for her because IM writing this. not her #PLOT TWIST RHINEDOTTIR I GET TO WRITE THE RULES AND I SAY ALBEDO IS AS HUMAN AS I AM #EAT ASS #I FUCKED UP THE TITLE FUCK

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