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sunshinescribes · 6 months

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Between Your Name and A Prayer

Pairing: Dracule Mihawk x Fem!Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+), MDNI!

Summary: There are few who can say they elude Dracule Mihawk, and even fewer who have held his heart. You’ve done both, and it only serves to complicate things when Mihawk seeks to collect your bounty…or so he tells himself.

Warnings: SMUT! Ex!Mihawk, Angst, Yearning, Fingering, Emotional Sex, Rough Sex (PinV), Reader is a little petty/bratty

Mihawk knows he shouldn’t be doing this. Not again.

He shouldn’t be slipping through a sleepy port town in search of you.

He tries to blame it on your wanted poster, a reminder that you continue to evade the world government—evade him, but the lie is hardly convincing.

Not when he had spent more time than necessary staring down at your new wanted poster, his sharp eyes following the curve of your playful smile and catching on to your eyes, as bewitching as he remembers, and with that familiar glint of mischief shining in them. The look you give is reminiscent of the one you used to grace him with, just before you stole a kiss, or persuaded him back to bed—what feels like a lifetime ago now.

Mihawk tries to shake the aching feeling that blossoms in his chest. Your bounty has gone up significantly. Vice Admirals hiss your name over snail responders; wonder why you haven’t been caught yet. Mihawk is quick to retort sharply that he isn’t at their beck and call, despite what the Admirals might think, and that they can send someone else to catch you, or better yet, find her yourself.

He knows they won’t. It’s as difficult for them to track you down as it is for him, maybe even more so. Besides, they have an…inkling of an idea of what you two once shared. Feelings once held that they think he can use to draw you from the shadows. If only they knew how wrong their assumptions were.

He may be a hunter of sorts, but you are no prey. Mihawk has come to realize that he only finds you when you let him. You leave little clues—hints dripping with nostalgia. You tease him, dare the world’s greatest swordsmen to come and find you, and he accepts the challenge every time with the eagerness of an undisciplined child.

He has only found you twice, and on both occasions, you looked far too pleased, not surprised in the slightest to see his dark figure slipping from the shadows. You had smiled and teased him in a way only you (and a certain red-haired pirate) would be brave enough to.

You finally showed up, Hawk Eye.

Mihawk despises the epithet from you—the distance it creates, but it’s necessary, isn’t it? It makes it easier to fall into a night of ravenous bliss without considering that you two once shared a home and your hearts.

Mihawk continues to shift through the lifeless town, the chilly midnight air working like a balm to his tortured soul, allowing him a moment of respite as his eyes flit between dimly lit shops. This venture started nearly a week ago with Mihawk idly flipping through the newspaper, curious to see what troubles were brewing in the Grand Line. Little caught his interest as he read, but when he turned to the last page, his eyes lingered on a single photo. An unexpected offering.

You, disguised well and hidden in a crowd, your face was obscured by the hat you wore, similar to the ones donned by those beside you. To anyone else, you were nothing more than another spectator, but the necklace that rested against your collar screamed your identity—the same one Mihawk had placed around your neck a year prior.

What fun you must have finding new ways to reel him in.

The first time Mihawk sought you out, he had been certain of catching you. His objective left him the second your warm eyes fell on him, and your mouth ventured where his body had missed you most. The second time, he had sworn he would not be tempted, but his will had shattered easily. Mihawk lost himself as he pressed you up against the wall of a cramped room in a seedy hostel, your nails digging into the flesh of his bare back while he took you apart as he had done so many times before.

What would he do this time? Mihawk had tried to reason that he would not be so weak-willed—so foolish as to let you reduce him to a man incapable of thinking beyond the flesh—but the certainty he once held was steadily slipping out of reach with each encounter.

A frustrated sigh escapes Mihawk’s parted lips as he stops in front of a shabby tavern. His eyes follow the curves of the poorly painted sign, faded and scuffed from lack of proper upkeep. It’s lifeless. No music pouring out the doors or cheery carols of drunken men. No heady scent of rum or grog. The tavern is completely devoid of life, save for the soft, flickering candlelight that paints the windows in a warm orange hue, and a single slippery patron Mihawk knows is inside.

He ignores the warring voices in his head as he pushes the door open, and there you are.

You sit perched on the counter, legs crossed, and head tilted slightly as you cradle a bottle in your hand. You hum a soft tune, your eyes downcast and far off in thought. Mihawk thinks perhaps your thoughts might be of him, because he recognizes the melody. It’s the same one he used to whisper against your skin in the dead of night, ushering you into a peaceful sleep—just as it had been used for him, back when he was young and hopeless in the arms of a tender-hearted nun.

Your hushed singing halts when the floorboard creaks under the weight of his boots. Your eyes lift, and the somber expression on your face is gone so fast that Mihawk thinks he might have imagined it.

An impish smile graces your features, and your eyes lower as you take in the sight of his lean body, shameless and hungry.

“And here I thought you’d stood me up.”

You’re always quick to crack a joke, dispelling some of the uncertain tension that always brews at the beginning. You want this to be as uncomplicated as possible.

And Mihawk realizes suddenly that he complies, says little beyond your name, and takes what you offer, lying to himself that it is enough—that he will hunger no more afterwards…but his appetite is endless, vicious in how much it craves something it can never have again.

Mihawk takes a step forward, and you uncross your legs instinctively, spreading them in a way that would make the nuns he grew up with faint. Ramera, they would whisper harshly, before slipping into prayer. They would surely have some choice words for him as well.

Your smile slips when he settles on the stool beside you, instead of between your parted legs.

You want this to be uncomplicated, and Mihawk can oblige, as he always does—he can steel his unruly heart and silence the voice that reminds him of better days, sweet and silent moments in a drab castle that seemed to burst with life with you in it. He can do all this, but why should he give you what you want right away?

You sigh disapprovingly, before taking a swig from your bottle.

“So, you’re here to collect my bounty, then?”

Your voice is flat and unamused. Mihawk can’t tell if it’s a display of false bravado or if you believe he wouldn’t be able to manage it.

“I haven’t decided,” he lies.

Of course he has. He always decides. Before he even sets off to find you—before the clues bare themselves before him—deep down, he knows he’ll never raise Yoru against you. Never bring you to the admirals who have hunted you for as long as he can remember. He can play the part of the heartless hunter, but he never truly fulfills the role.

Your sly smile returns. You lean towards him, positioned in a way that makes your collarless shirt dip, exposing the soft flesh of your breasts. Mihawk is quick to look away, but you’re just as perceptive as him. Your eyes catch everything, no matter how minuscule.

You reach for his hat, placing it on your own head.

“How can I convince you to spare me?” You ask sweetly, setting your drink aside.

Stop running away.

The words catch in Mihawk’s throat. He knows why you’re running, why you won’t come back to him, not even if he swallows his pride and asks. The moment the words pass his lips, you’ll pull away. Stop being a warlord, would be your quick reply, and it would spiral into the same argument that had created the impossible distance between you two.

Neither of you would let up. You both would tear open tender scars. It would complicate something already too fucking complicated—shatter the delicate peace you both allow in moments like this.

It will do no good to start a fight he can’t win.

Instead, Mihawk lifts from the stool, reaching to unsheathe Yoru. Your eyes go soft for the briefest of seconds when they fall on the decorated black sword—such a stark contrast to others who have seen him wield it. There’s always fear, sometimes envy, but never fondness. Then again, only you know his sword as intimately as he does.

“You don’t need to convince me,” Mihawk starts, leaning Yoru against the counter, far enough so that it doesn’t become a nuisance. “You only need to take what I give you.”

You raise a curious brow. You’re used to leading these little liaisons, quick to chase pleasure you’ve been deprived of, but this time Mihawk needs something different. He needs you to want just as badly as he does, to see you as helpless as you make him feel.

“And if it’s not enough?” You taunt, always so eager for a reaction.

Mihawk doesn’t humor you with a response. Instead, he positions himself between your spread legs. A myriad of images flash in his mind—delicious ways to break you apart that almost make him shudder in anticipation.

He notices your pert nipples through your collarless shirt, untended. Desire takes him hostage, makes his hands almost shake as he works quickly to unclasp the delicate buttons that keep your skin hidden from him.

“Someone’s excited.”

Mihawk rolls his eyes when you chuckle, low and lovely. You think you have him in the palm of your hand, and you’re not exactly wrong for believing so. Though you’ll learn soon enough how easily he can turn your smart remarks into desperate pleas.

You let out a shaky gasp when you feel Mihawk’s warm mouth kiss your collar, slowly trailing down while his rough hands cup your exposed breasts, kneading the soft flesh. He whispers your name against your skin—perhaps a warning or a promise—before he takes your sensitive nipple in his mouth. A pretty moan rips from your throat when he adds the soft pressure of his talented tongue.

You try not to picture Mihawk between your legs, lapping at your needy cunt with fervor. If the wetness between your thighs is anything to go off of, you’re doing a piss-poor job.

Mihawk breaks away from your tit, a string of saliva following him as he tends to the other. It’s a lovely sensation, but you want more.

You snake your hands downward, attempting to unbutton your pants and slip your fingers where you need them most, but Mihawk denies you. His hands catch your wrist the second you finish with the buttons. Your breast falls from his mouth, and he fixes back to his full height, peering down at you with those piercing eyes of his.

“Hard of hearing, are we?” Mihawk arches a sharp brow, ignoring the murderous expression you wear. He can feel the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “What I give you. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

You glare up at him like a petulant child…such a shift from the confident, easy smile you displayed only minutes before.

Mihawk revels in it for a moment longer before choosing to be altruistic.

He leans close, his soft lips grazing your ear as he whispers, “If you want my fingers inside of you, you’ll take off those pants. Quickly.”

He practically purrs in your ear, his voice richer and deeper than you remember it being. You want so desperately to defy him. His words drip with arrogance that makes you want to bare your teeth at him, regain a modicum of control, but you also burn with such torturous lust—and maybe something sweeter.

You school your emotions, look as irritated as you can manage when you slide down from the counter, quickly pushing your pants down the length of your legs. Mihawk mirrors you, peeling his black coat off, before neatly placing it near Yoru.

Damn him and his stupid, perfect body.

You kick your pants to the side, tossing his hat along with it for added measure—just in case he thinks you’re happy to do as he says.

Your faux frustration dissipates the second you’re back on the counter, and Mihawk’s fingers glide across your cunt, coating his digits with your slick. You hear the words he doesn’t speak when he pushes a finger into your hungry hole—who’s excited now?

You shake, eagerly watching the way his finger disappears inside of you.

“Mihawk—”

He shushes you before adding another digit. You hiss—oh god—andhe pushes a little deeper, fucks you a little faster, desperately seeking that soft spot inside of you that makes you see stars.

Mihawk curls his fingers suddenly and knows he found it, because you make the most wrecked noise he thinks he’s ever heard.

Your lashes flutter, sharp curses spill from your plump lips, incoherent and crude. Magnificent…Mihawk muses, transfixed on your micro-expressions—the way your brows pinch together, the subtle tremble of your bottom lip after each pretty sound.

You clench around his fingers, teetering on the edge of your release. Mihawk’s free hand moves as if it has a mind of its own, finding your neglected clit.

Your fingers weave into his hair, pulling him closer. "Fuckfuckfuuuck," you practically cry into his shoulder. You shudder beneath him while a pool of pleasure builds in your core, so dangerously close to bursting.

“More,” you choke out.

The tortuous circles that he rubs against your aching clit are divine, but it isn’t enough. You want to feel full—fuller than his fingers alone can provide.

“Wanna c—hmmmng—c-come on your dick.”

You’re thankful you catch the plea that tries to crawl up your throat.

Mihawk swears under his breath, pulling his fingers out of your sopping pussy. His eyes are heavy, his expression is like that of a drunken man as he glances downward. He groans, watching the way you clench around nothing.

Mihawk doesn’t make you wait long. He’s quick to undo his dark trousers, works with speed even he might not know he possesses to free his aching cock—it’s so lovely, pale with the prettiest shade of pink dusting his thick head. Evidence of his own arousal pours from the slit, mixing with your own slick when he wraps his fingers around the base.

You watch him pump into his hand, getting his dick nice and wet for you. It’s such a beautiful sight, so fucking obscene. You can’t stop the desperate moan that pours from your lips. Can’t stop yourself from calling his name with a hint of urgency in your tone.

“Impatient—” Mihawk hisses, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He gives no warning as he buries himself in your soaking heat. You all but shriek as you feel the brush of his wet fingers against your clit again. “You have what you want. Now come.”

You try to hold out—you don't want him to think that he can make you shatter with a simple command, but your body betrays you. Pleasure rips through you before you can even consider a snide remark, making you cry out loud and cling to his lean frame. You shudder through your orgasm, curse between gasps, and Mihawk can’t look away—can’t stop the way his hips jerk reflexively when your walls flutter around him.

It feels so good, it almost makes him lose what little self-control he has left. Mihawk stills, grits his teeth painfully until his desire becomes just a little manageable. He won’t let this be another quick, meaningless fuck.

Mihawk lifts you with his dick still buried deep inside you. It almost takes you by surprise until you remember just how strong he is. He wields Yoru as effortlessly as one wields a dagger. He has taken down entire fleets with a single attack. Maneuvering from the bar counter to a booth is hardly work.

And you’re thankful for the change, feeling the cushion beneath you. It’s not the softest you've ever felt, but it’s certainly more comfortable than the damn counter.

Though it hardly matters, you don’t get much time to relish it once Mihawk cages you in with his powerful body.

“Missed me—” He thrusts into your heat, his pace downright brutal as his hips slam into yours. “Oh—OH, can’t you feel how much you missed me?”

God, you hate how right he is. Despise the way your cunt sucks him in and clings to his length. You feel the sweet spasms that wrack through you with each vicious thrust—how your walls pulse with a need to be filled in more ways than one.

It feels so fucking good—always does with him—and you’re past trying to deny it. Would you even believe yourself if you tried?

You blink up at him, watching the way Mihawk’s face contorts with pain and pleasure. How his long, dark lashes flutter. The way his delicate lips part and a sound that goes straight to your core escapes. He’s so beautiful—it almost drives you mad thinking about how effortless it is for him, as if he is something divine and otherworldly.

Is this the same way he sees you? When his eyes linger and he looks a little dazed?

His golden eyes lift suddenly, finding yours. Your breath catches at the expression you see hidden in their depths—the unguarded adoration. It’s so different from how he looks at anyone else—a gift only ever meant for you.

Mihawk slows the roll of his hips, moving his hand from where it’s positioned near your head. You can’t anticipate what he’s planning—can’t think beyond the tender look in his eyes.

And then you feel it.

The warmth of his palm as his fingers laces with yours.

The act is intimate, full of loving intent.

Your heart bursts as you blink up at him. Countless emotions flood through you—unceasing affection that you try to bury, the pain that still lingers, loneliness, frustration, desire—it’s overwhelming in its intensity, chases away the unrelenting conviction you’ve nurtured for months.

“Mihawk,” you call out desperately, “kiss me.”

Mihawk stills, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. He considers it for a moment, leans in ever so slightly before pulling away, cursing in his mother tongue.

He tries to focus on the feeling of you beneath him. Your warm skin, the rhythm of your erratic heart—but your request snags his like a twisted vine. It takes every ounce of defiance to deny you this.

Not unless you tell me you still love me.

Not unless you come back home.

“Mihaawk…”

You hate how your voice comes out in a low whine, but the need to feel his lips against yours is paramount. One final request to satisfy your heartsick soul.

“Too much.” His voice is tight, pained. “You want too much.”

His golden eyes find yours again. You expect his notorious glare, maybe even a sneer for good measure, but you receive neither. His eyes are soft…and a little sad, as if he wishes he could give you everything you desire, but to what end?

Hot, frustrated tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You try so hard to blink them away, but they fall without your permission, running down your cheeks all while Mihawk watches, his sharp brows lifting slightly in surprise.

“I hate you,” you whisper, but there’s no venom in your voice, no spite. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate yo—”

You taste his lips before you feel them—ripe plum from a silver chalice, salt from the sea.

Mihawk melds his mouth with yours, reminding you both of just how perfectly you always fit together. You melt into him, feel lightheaded when he pries your mouth open with his tongue, desperate and hungry, as if he’s trying to siphon the air from your lungs.

Your nails scrape against his scalp, tufts of his dark hair curl around your fingers, and Mihawk breaks.

He rocks his hips suddenly, harshly fucking into you with renewed fervor.

“I hate you,” you say again when he finally breaks away, a string of glistening saliva still connecting you two. The sight alone rips a breathy moan from his throat, and he nods.

“I know,” he dips down, pressing phantom kisses to your lips.

Mihawk knows what you really mean. What you won’t allow yourself to say aloud.

You still love him. You never stopped loving him.

He tries to show you how much he still loves you, pushes himself as deep as he possibly can. Mihawk nearly collapses from the way your velvety walls hug him—so tight and snug that it almost hurts. He knows he’s hitting something delightful inside of you—something that makes you convulse and sob beneath him.

“Please, please—” he hears your voiceless plea.

Mihawk groans, resting his forehead on yours as he pounds into you. He hits so deep that the head of his cock collides with a gummy cluster of nerves, and you tip over the edge with a sharp cry.

Mihawk captures your lips again, swallowing your moans. You tremble, fresh tears slipping from your eyes, while your second orgasm rips through you, so violent and demanding that it feels like it wants to take your soul along with it.

“My heart—” Mihawk grits as your walls massage his tortured cock, take him hostage until he’s pushing impossibly deep. “fuckI’m—"

Mihawk doesn’t finish his sentence—barely even starts it before he’s flooding you. He comes hard, pumping your sweet cunt full of his seed, filling it like it deserves. Your walls squeeze him, milking him for all he’s worth. It’s too fucking much. He shakes through it, euphoria splitting through his body until every ounce of strength is drained from him.

Mihawk collapses, as boneless as you, though he does his best to refrain from resting his full weight on you. He offers you sweet praise. A soft kiss on the corners of your lips, your cheeks, your chin.

“I love you,” Mihawk murmurs against your skin, so low you nearly miss it.

You’re too spent to react, though you’re uncertain of what you would do even if you could. You want the warmth of his touch, his kisses, and honeyed words. You want that fond look in his eyes and the tender care he offers only to you.

But are you willing to forgive? To forget how you two ended up here?

You ignore your mind’s inquiry. You allow yourself to crave, to fall deeper into this pleasant mirage as your eyes grow heavy.

When the sun rises, you will have to face this, but for now, you let yourself slip into a fantasy where you can love him without consequence.

PART 2

divider credit @/cafekitsune

#sunny.fic #dracule mihawk x reader #mihawk x reader #mihawk x you #dracule mihawk x y/n #mihawk x y/n #x reader

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lawsvalentine · 1 year

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Hey I have a hard time finding stories of the monster trio + Law finding out that their s/o is pregnant. So if you could write one for each that would be amazing.🥹🙏 it be a sfw story

Cee’s note: Yay! My first request AHHH!!! And sure thing love 💓

They Find Out You’re Pregnant • Monster Trio + Law HC • (SFW)

Pregnant!reader

CW: Pregnancy, Fluff

Luffy

Luffy noticed something was off about you but couldn’t put his finger on it

You were going to the bathroom more frequently and you couldn’t stomach most of the food Sanji served without vomiting

He had Chopper take a look at you worried you might be sick

When Chopper reassured that you weren’t sick relief washed over you two only to be replaced by shock when Chopper reveals that you are pregnant

Luffy stares for a few moments blinking before a big toothy grin spreads across his face. He gives you a big hug can’t containing his excitement.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t kinda scared when Chopper dropped the bomb but Luffy’s excitement and joy was contagious slowly easing the fears you had

From that moment on, Luffy is extra careful with you. Always keeping you on the ship out of harms way and has either Zoro or Sanji stay with you.

Definitely takes advantage of your pregnancy cravings to get more food from Sanji

He loves to kiss and cuddle your round tummy and even talks to it

“Hey little baby, your dad is gonna be king of the pirates hehehe”

When you went into labor, he was right by your side holding your hand and comforting you while chopper delivered the baby

Luffy is overjoyed holding his child in his arms and absolutely falls in love with them.

Looking down at the precious being, he can’t help but make a silent vow to always protect them at any cost

Zoro

You actually found out you were pregnant before he did. Your period never came causing you to visit Chopper and well and behold you were indeed pregnant

You didn’t know how or when would be the right time to tell Zoro until one day you ended up blurting it randomly when he tried offering you some sake

The gif above was his exact reaction. Zoro couldn’t believe he was going to be a father. He was lowkey panicking on the inside

You started to feel like maybe Zoro didn’t want to have this kid with you when you saw his face. You started to tear up, causing Zoro to snap out of his inner thoughts

He immediately held you close to him, peppering your face with kisses and starts to reassure you.

“Babe don’t cry, of course I want to have this baby”

He is so protective of you. Literally carries you everywhere and doesn’t allow you to lift anything by yourself. Absolutely refuses to leave your side, no matter how much you tell him you’ll be fine.

Gives you foot rubs and leg massages whenever your body starts to feel sore

Loves to lay with you and gently rub your tummy

He felt the baby kick and he just looked astonished that there really was a little person growing inside you. Now he hopes he feels a kick every time he rubs your stomach

Was nervous asf when you went into labor, but didn’t let it show for your sake. You squeezed the hell out of this man’s hand but it’s okay he’s a big boy he can handle it lol

When your child was finally born, you could have sworn you saw Zoro’s eyes glossy (he will deny it with every fiber of his being lol)

He already is planning to train them to become a great swordsmen like their father

Sanji

You have been vomiting a lot whenever Sanji made you food. He took notice and was immediately concerned about you.

He took you to Chopper and he gives you the big news that you are now pregnant

Oh boy, you just made this man the happiest man alive

He is over the moon that his darling Y/N is now carrying his child. He had already wanted to start a family with you and settle down so this was a dream come true for him

Sanji is going to spoil you 10x more now because you’re pregnant. Whatever you desire, you shall receive it.

Sanji secretly hopes the baby is a girl, but will love the baby just as much if it is a boy

Sanji promises he will never be like his father, he will cherish and give this child unconditional love that he was robbed of from his childhood.

If you are feeling insecure about your belly and body changes, Sanji will immediately shower you with kisses and adoring compliments

“My darling, you are so beautiful and I am even more in love seeing you carry our child”

When you went into labor, he was right there by your side, holding your hand and helping you to control your breathing and encouraging you to push as hard as you can

Once your child is born, this man is actually bawling his eyes out. He is so fucking happy lol

Law

He definitely suspected you were pregnant from the symptoms you were exhibiting

He did a check up on you just to be sure and his theory was correct

Law definitely had some fears, you two were pirates and he already was protective of you before and now that you were pregnant you were even more vulnerable

But once he saw the panicked look in your eyes, he pushed his own fears aside and reassured you everything was going to be okay

“It’s okay Y/N-ya, I will take care of you.”

Law never thought about having children before but as your pregnancy went along he was starting to warm up to the idea

He is definitely even more protective and gives you even more check ups to ensure that you and the baby are healthy

Makes sure you are taking your vitamins and that you aren’t exerting yourself too much

Doesn’t let you leave the Polar Tang under any circumstances and don’t even try to fight him on this. He will have none of it

Protectiveness aside, Law is more softer and affectionate with you. He is always holding you and giving you kisses and loves to hold and kiss your tummy

Bepo and the crew notice this and tease their captain which is always met with death glares from Law that sends them running lol

Law is the one to deliver your baby when you go into labor, while Bepo serves as your comfort bear to help you through your delivery

When your child is born, Law had the biggest smile you ever seen on him

He thinks about Corazon and wishes he was here to see his child. But knows he is watching over him and his new family.

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slayfics · 11 months

Text

Muichiro reminds you you’re his Tsuguko.

A crow flew overhead alerting you and Muichiro of some Kanoto ranks in danger from a demon nearby. You both took off immediately to help them and take care of the demon.

Upon arrival, Muichiro let you handle the demon while he moved the lower ranks out of danger.

The demon wasn't challenging so it was the perfect time to try out some new techniques you just learned and had been practicing with Muichiro.

Muichiro observed taking mental notes of how you were doing when he overheard the lower ranks talking behind him.

"Wow, they are incredible," one said, watching you battle the demon.

"Not to mention beautiful too, think I could ask them on a date?" The other asked.

"Yeah right like they would ever give you the time of day," the first one replied laughing.

Muichiro scrunched his nose up in disgust but didn't turn around to face the Kanoto's. Of course, you wouldn’t be interested in any of those swordsmen he thought.

Or would you? The thought of you accompanying one of them on a date suddenly made him feel ill. He blinked hard, forcing the image out of his mind, and focused back on how you were doing. The lower ranks were right, you were doing amazing and it was stunning to watch.

You finished off the demon and made your way over to Muichiro and the other swordsmen.

"Are you all ok?" You asked them.

"They are fine with only minor injuries," Muichiro answered before any of them could speak to you.

"Oh, that's great! Do any of you need help getting to your next destination?” You asked, but again Muichiro spoke for them standing in between you and them.

"Their next destination is a Wisteria House not too far from here. Surely they can make that journey on their own. If they can't, they should quit the demon slayer corps now." He said sharply, turning his head to side-eye them. "Ask for us, we have much more work to do today and should be off." He said, and motioned for you to follow him in the opposite direction of the Kanoto ranks.

"Ok bye then, safe travels!" You said waving at the Kanoto ranks and following Muichiro.

"Geez, the Hashira are all real pieces of work aren't they?" You heard one Kanoto say as you departed. If Muichiro heard, he didn't care to dignify the lower rank with a response.

"How did I do Tokito?" You decided to ask, pushing the Kanoto's statement out of your mind.

"You did great, excellent work using your breathing techniques. We just have to work on getting you faster." He replied.

"Oh wow really! Thank you!" You said beaming at his praise. Sure he had some notes of improvement, but Muichiro always did. The fact that he had anything nice to say at all meant you must have done exceptionally well.

"I'm not the only one that thought so either," he said.

"Hm? What do you mean?"

"Those lower ranks seemed to be captivated by you. One wanted to ask you on a date."

"Oh!" You exclaimed, feeling a blush creep onto your cheeks.

"You should know though, you're my Tsuguko and you don't have time for trivial matters such as that," Muichiro stated.

This caused you to process the scene just now. Specifically, the way Muichiro refused to let you speak to the Kanoto's, and how he ensured to stay physically between you and them. A small smirk found its way to your lips. Was Muichiro really just trying to keep you focused on training? Or was something else going on here, you wondered.

"That's fine. I wouldn't be interested in any of their company anyway." You said teasingly.

"No?" Muichiro asked and turned to face you.

"Nope. I'm only interested in one swordsman's company."

Muichiro's eyes widened in curiosity, "what swordsman is that?" He asked.

"You of course." You said, and Muichiro swiftly turned back around, but you could have sworn you saw his face flush before he did.

Tagging those that asked~

@aeolia18 @plvuii @muichirouswife

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heartpiratedrabbles · 3 months

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Strange Emotions

Prompt: Joining the Straw Hats, you can't help but have conflicting emotions about the first mate.

NSFW

Roronoa Zoro x Fem Reader

When you first hopped onto the Thousand Sunny you were slightly excited and a little scared for what was to come. It’s not everyday when a world criminal comes to town and happily asks you to join his crew. It certainly wasn’t what you were expecting considering everything he’s done.

What’s more is that most of his crew members were just as equally happy and chill. None of them seemed like cold hearted pirates, Nami was excited to have another woman aboard and while you were frightened when you first met Brook, you realized he was just a joker when he asked what color your panties were, you hoped at least. Sanji in particular was practically drooling over you when Luffy first brought you aboard.

And then there was Zoro, who upon hearing Sanji coo compliments your way immediately took up his swords towards his own crewmate. You couldn’t help but to be startled, seeing the tall swordsmen who could clearly hold his own. His scarred body only proving point that he had been through plenty of battles in the past. This must be the exception; he must be the typical Pirate everyone thinks about. The Straw Hat crew had to have at least one stereotypical pirate and this was it. You make a mental note not to venture onto Zoro’s bad side, maybe even avoid him after he shot you a glare.

Franky was the one who gave you a tour of the whole ship and you were most excited about the weight room that doubled as the crows nest. There were a couple weights you doubted anyone could pick up but there were more than plenty that you could make into your work-out. After setting out on an unfamiliar ship with a new crew, you were glad to have some place you could let the stress out.

And that’s just what you ended up doing the very next day, everyone seemed to be doing something or relaxing. Even Zoro was napping in the shade so you decided to sneak on up to the place you could work out until your muscles burned. When you finally stood in the room you realized just how spacious it was, the tour was quick but this was much better now that you took the time to look at everything.

The windows opened to create a cool cross breeze that you were thankful for when you start working up a sweat. It had been a while since you could do this for as long as you wanted, often interrupted by a friend or not having enough time to get into the bliss of working out. You were so focused on your sets that you hadn’t realized someone else enter the room.

Zoro noticed as he was climbing up that someone else was already up there. He had almost forgotten about you since he hasn’t seen you since you were brought on the ship by Luffy, but his memory was jogged when he realized everyone else was on the deck doing their own things. He grunted at the thought of you wrecking his equipment but figured you went up for the view more than anything else.

But he was sorely mistaken once he got in the crow nest. The smell of sweat heavy in the air and the breeze covering it up enough as the slight panting hit his ears. He had not expected this sight. You in skin tight shorts and a sports bra, the muscles on your back straining as you do another lunge with weights over your shoulder. He’ll admit, your form was impeccable.

After a couple of lunges Zoro finally snapped out of letting his eyes wander your body before deciding not to disrupt you. He hated when someone called out to him when he was trying to train so he wouldn’t dare to it to another person. Instead, he turned his back and went to do his own thing on the other side of the room, ignoring your presence entirely.

When you finally did notice someone else was in the room was when Zoro dropped his weight, a large thud that startled you out of your own trance. Turning around to see what happened you turned cold when you realized who was there with you. He didn’t even bother a glance your way when you let a small squeak escape your lips. Maybe he hadn’t noticed my presence at all and had just gotten to his own workout? You decided not to test the waters of this theory and quickly cleaned up, leaving at quietly as possible, deciding to make a Bee-line to the showers.

Once you were in the warm water you thought back to the situation. Despite not fully trusting him or feeling relaxed around him, you must admit that his body was nice. Hot even. You wondered how those arms would feel around you, the strength they must hold. The strength. You remember the weight that had crashed to the floor, the size of it. And you were snapped back to reality of the horrifying realization of his superhuman strength.

~~~

Zoro kept his eye on you over the weeks. He couldn’t help but notice you, how you’d duck out of the room when you catch his staring. The way you were able to keep up with the work on a ship, how you kept to yourself most of the time but happily indulged in their Captains whims. And then there was whenever you’d workout. You’d zone out every time, the only thing that would snap you out of it was a loud noise.

Zoro had noticed how you’d leave quickly after making a small gasp or squeal as you would clean up and practically run out of the room. Whenever he’d enter to see you he couldn’t help but to watch, he hated how you were avoiding him. He had gotten the occasional hi or a small conversation while eating with everyone else, but why could you talk to the pervy cook and not him? He hated how his chest got tight whenever you’d smile at Usopp or Luffy, but couldn’t spare him a glance.

He grunted as he dropped his weights. Ignoring his thoughts had been harder than he imagine, how was he supposed to focus when you kept popping up. Walking to the window he grabbed his canteen and glanced at the deck below him, taking note of people positions but noticing a clear lack of you.

The sun was gone for the night so he assumed you had just turned in early like Robin while he continued to watch out into the sea. It was his turn for night watch so he’d be here a while.

~~~

“Oh Y/N,” Nami yells out to you as you dried the last dish, “Could you make sure the big oaf gets a snack or something to drink? I don’t want to wake up to him sleeping again.” Her exasperated voice clear as she swung her head back in disbelief that someone on watch would go to sleep.

You knew you couldn’t avoid him forever but this was a little much, sadly your small excuses were no match for Nami and she yells a thanks and points to the trey that Sanji had already prepared. Before you knew it you were left alone entirely with and you sighed in defeat, taking the trey before starting the climb up, letting your thoughts run wild.

As the weeks went by you couldn’t help but let your heart skip at your dangerous crew member. You had seen some good sides, he was almost always the first person to jump in after Luffy if he had fallen in. And he at the very least, tolerated the childish behavior, even indulging in Chopper’s love of candy. But you still couldn’t help but feel a bit afraid, his strength alone could easily kill you. This mixture of feelings often left you confused and every so often, your mind would wander to some unspeakable topics.

Shaking your head of your dubious thoughts you get think back to your situation. You’re sure he wouldn’t notice if you just slid the trey in, right? But then it’d be on the floor and what if he stepped on it? The thought made you feel guilty even if it hadn’t actually happened. As you approached the door you decided to take a peek and try to sneak it in on the bar before disappearing through the door again. It couldn’t be that hard right?

Opening the door you saw his back turned towards you, which was absolutely perfect. Although he was just staring out the window so you’d have to be quiet if you didn’t want to get caught. You had barely set the trey down when you turned around to see him staring at you, your face turning red at being caught.

“I, I’m just leaving this for you, have a good watch,” You quickly say, attempting to make your way to the trap door quickly, not wanting an awkward encounter. Nothing about this situation was good for your heart or your mind. The dim light barely illuminating his toned chest as he walks closer to you.

“What’s your problem?” His harsh tone making you still as he traps you inside the crow’s nest with him. “You get along with everyone but can’t even look at me.” His frame towering over you as even now you were avoiding his gaze.

“I don’t have a problem-“ You pipe out but jump as he hits the wall next to you. He walks by you, only the wind of his movement touching you as he grabs the bottle of Sake you had brought up. You heart feeling heavy as you look over your shoulder, watching him take a swig. “Zoro I-“

“Just leave. I get it, you don’t like me” His voice was firm, the glare he shot you making you shiver but the guilt just building more. You can’t just leave if it’s going to make you feel worse.

Taking a deep breath, you turn to face him, walking up and taking the bottle from his hands. A large gulp before handing the bottle back and taking another deep breath, “I’ve been avoiding you because I don’t know if I’m scared of you or Attracted to you.” The words leaving you quickly while you were making eye contact with him. You straighten up a bit at the silence, “Now then, since that’s out in the open I’m gonna take me leave.” You turn on your heel, your cheeks feeling hot with embarrassment but your chest lighter.

You slap your hands to your cheeks as you make your was to the door again, only to be stopped with a had on your shoulder. “Scared or attracted?” Zoro’s voice echoed as he spun you around to face him once again, “How does that even make any sense?”

His intense stare breaking your walls as you can’t stop yourself from more of a confession, “It makes perfect sense! You lift like 10 tons; you could break me in an instance and yet I can’t help but think about how fucken amazing the sex would be.” Your embarrassment growing further as his grip on your shoulder tightens slightly as silence fills the room again.

Crossing your arms in front of you, you glance up at his face to see a stupid smirk played across his lips, “Oh yea?” He leans in close to you, “Do you want to find out?” You inhale sharply, eyes going wide at his invitation as he watches your every move. You bite your lip, debating your next move. You had partially hoped this was some sick joke he was playing on you but knew otherwise. Your eyes wonder over his body again, taking in his toned chest, how the outline of the muscles are so clear. His hand finds its way to under your chin, lifting your head to look back at his face as his other hand wraps around you, resting on your lower back, “Looking at the goods without committing is quite insulting.”

You glance down at his lips before looking back up at his eye. “Maybe I was taking in the view before my mind was too overwhelmed with pleasure,” The playful bite back seems to amuse Zoro as he leans down for a second to grab your butt, squeezing just enough to let you know to jump up as you wrap your legs around his waist. His other hand snaking around your neck and pulled your head closer to his as your tongues start a war that makes you dizzy.

You grip at his arms before you feel your back brush against the wall. You push him back slightly, noticing just how hard his chest really is before lifting your shirt over your head before Zoro goes back into the kiss, biting your lip in the process. You groan at the dull pain, tugging at his hair slightly while grinding your hips into him.

“Needy aren’t you?” His growl making you want more as he lets you go. You watch as he strips himself of his clothes and you follow suit before reattaching yourself to him, a hand dancing around his growing member, “If you’re gonna touch me than do it.” A small tug at your hair making you moan before you grasp the base of his dick.

You use your other hand to push him back as you drop to your knees, pumping his dick slightly until it’s fully hard. Looking up at him as you lick the tip, hearing him curse under his breath. You can’t help but smile slightly before taking him in your mouth, closing your eyes as you bob your head up and down, feeling the slight thrust every now and then.

“Christ Y/N…” Zoro curses again when he feels you deepthroat his length, ignoring the gag you felt coming as you tried getting him deeper. You reach on of your hand down, feeling the throbbing uncomfortable mess between your thighs. The second one of your fingers touch your clit you moan around his dick. You pump two fingers inside of you as your thumb plays with your clit, the bundle of nerve driving you insane as you take in the scent of the man in front of you.

The grip in your hair tightens slightly and you can’t help but to speed up slightly, gripping your hand around his cock tighter as you twist with your bobbing, curling your fingers inside of you to try and reach that special spot. But just as you were building up your own pleasure, you were ripped away from his cock, and pushed to the ground entirely. “Trying to finish before getting to the main course?” The harsh grunt making you gasp as your lips were attacked by his.

Just as quick, he lifted one of your legs, gripping your thigh as he leaned back to look down at you. His thumb swiping over your dripping entrance before rubbing your clit into harsh but sweet circles, making you moan, lifting your chest off the floor. “Z-Zoro~” You cry out, grinding your hips closer to him and he grunts, removing his hand before you feel his tip slap against your entrance a couple of times.

He pushes into you, finally filling your needy hole as you cry out in pleasure and he growl words you can’t quite hear. Soon enough your mind is filled with nothing but pleasure as he sets a slow but strong pace, pushing deeper every time as you feel yourself stretch around him.

Screaming his name as your hands grip at his arms while he stares down at you, enjoying the moaning mess you’ve become. His thrusts getting harder as you feel him bruising your cervix with every thrust and a heat building closer and closer. You grip onto his shoulder, pulling him closer to you. Zoro obliges, taking your lips as tears spill from your eyes in pure ecstasy.

You part from his lips when you feel his movements becoming erratic, moving your head to his shoulder where you bite down, your nails digging into his back as you try not to wake the whole ship with your orgasm. You can hear Zoro swearing as you pulse around him, your body shaking as you feel yourself relax after being pent up for so long.

Zoro pulls out just in time to paint your stomach in thick globs of cum, sweat dripping down his forehead as you catch your breath. His eye flashes to yours and you decide to break the panting silence, “didn’t ruin your workout routine, did I?” The breathy taunt making him grunt.

“Well, I still have a couple sets to do

#roronoa zoro #Zoro #Zoro x Reader #One Piece #One Piece X Reader #One Piece Smut

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sunflowervoltwentyeight · 2 months

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Hi! This is a fic rec of my favorite Exes to Lovers fics. These fics are organized by word count from longest to shortest. You can view my other fic recs here. Enjoy!

Given A Chance by fabby / @fabby1d (173k)

Five years after One Direction took their last tour, the last thing Louis Tomlinson ever expected to happen while on a tea run at the local Piggly Wiggly was to run into his ex-boyfriend and ex-bandmate Harry Styles.

The odds of them ever running into each other again had to be super slim, right?

Wrong.

What happens when you mix ex-boyfriends with a large serving of Small Town America? Will Louis and Harry be able to set aside their differences, or will Louis be able to stay breezy as fuck in the wake of Harry’s arrival?

(or, the one where Louis and Harry run into each other five years after One Direction ends and learn how to love each other again. Featuring: Reggie as the overweight labrador, Niall as Louis’ last grip on reality, and Nowheresville, North Carolina as the setting for Louis’ worst nightmare to come true.)

Empty Skies by green_feelings / @greenfeelings (134k)

For three years, Harry has been running from his past. Now, he is moving to London and pledges to fulfil his only dream – making it big in the music industry. Not everyone has a place, though, and the competition is tough. As is his past catching up on him.Louis is part of the biggest boy band of the world, and getting there had meant a lot of hard work, as well as sacrificing parts of his heart and soul. He’s still happy. Maybe not as happy as he could be, but who is he to complain?

After All These Yearsby LifeInAColorWheel (127k)

It’s been seven years since One Direction went on hiatus and it’s been eight years since Louis and Harry broke up. They’ve been strangers to one another since then.

But, over the course of a weeklong boys’ trip, history between Harry and Louis resurfaces.

Or,

The one when Louis and Harry don’t talk, connect again years later, and reflect on why their love collapsed.

Bitter Tangerine by purpledaisy / @daisyharry (119k)

Maybe it’s Niall, he reasons to calm his storming heart. Maybe he’s not actually gone for the holidays yet, maybe Harry got the dates confused. Slowly, he holds his breath and pushes the kitchen door open. The first thing he sees make him jump, a wooden spoon held out like a sword. Once his brain processes the sight in front of him, it’s less the sword that gets him than who is attached to the wooden spoon.

“Harry,” the swordsmen speaks before Harry can, his voice low and steady though confusion laces each word.

Harry’s breath catches. Every string around his heart, all the protection he spent nine months building, rips out and tears open all at once as he says, “Hi Louis.”

AU: Nine months after they break up, a twist of fate brings Harry and Louis back together at Christmas.

Burn to Ash by bethaboo (116k)

Harry is sitting there, so fucking casual, and Louis realizes in a split second he was not ready. When Harry walked out in Detroit and never looked back, he was a boy verging on a man, still only twenty years old, but there's a man in his place now. Hard and resolute, yes, but still, for the first time in a long time, Louis can kind of see the old Harry in him. The soft, directness of his gaze, the hesitant smile he gives to Lou, the way he wrings his ridiculously large hands in his lap.

He's a little bit the eager sixteen year old puppy dog again, his innocence and sweetness resurrected miraculously, and Louis freezes in place. He was prepared to face the asshole Harry. He was prepared to meet a whole new Harry.

Louis is not prepared to meet one of the old incarnations of Harry, and it absolutely tears him up.

Or the fic where Harry spirals out of control, the band breaks up, and then he shows back up, five years later.

Mine Would Be You by crinkle-eyed-boo / @crinkle-eyed-boo (114k)

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn’t intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

Emperor's New Clothes by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships (92K)

The fact that Louis’s most precious belonging was a cat with a face like thunder and an uncanny ability to cover every single inch of Louis’s clothing with cat hair was something that Louis chose not to think about too much.

or: Harry’s a pop star and Louis isn’t, and there’s a non-disclosure agreement where there used to be a relationship.

Perfect Storm by cherrystreet / @cherrystreet (80k)

What do you do when your best friend asks you and your (now) ex to be the best men at his destination wedding? You can either tell him the truth, tell him you’re not together anymore, and deal with the consequences, or you can pretend you’re still together and roll with it, just pray you don’t spiral. Fake it ‘til you make it. You know, for the sake of the wedding.

Harry and Louis choose the latter.

The Stars Are Guiding Me Back by coffeelouis / @coffeelouis (80k)

Directing the first ever season of The Bachelor with a bisexual star is a huge career move for Louis. After throwing himself into his career, he finally has the opportunity to prove himself as a director with a unique vision.

For Harry, being cast as the first ever Bi Bachelor means finally putting his ex-boyfriend behind him and starting anew. He's taking a chance on finding love and determined to do it right this time.

They didn't exactly think this through.

[or, the BACHELOR AU where Louis directs his ex-boyfriend Harry in his season as America's first bi bachelor.]

Consequences by allwaswell16 / @allwaswell16 (78k)

Two years ago Harry let his powerful family come between him and the love of his life, something he deeply regrets. Louis has tried to move on from their devastating break up. Sometimes, he even thinks he has. It only takes one moment to freeze them back in time.

An amnesia au

To the Ends of the Earth by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci (68k)

During a yearlong hiatus, Louis visits Harry at his cabin in Idaho, where long-buried feelings ignite like the fire keeping them warm.

Your Memory Over Me by shimmeringevil / @shimmeringevil (64k)

Three years have passed since Louis last saw him, but all it took was a few minutes in Harry’s presence for him to be relegated to the desperate twenty-one year old that was practically begging his boyfriend for an ounce of reassurance that he still cared about him.

Harry shouldn’t be here. He’s brought too many unresolved feelings with him, that Louis thought he’d never have to face.

It’s Harry’s apparent apathy that’s the most difficult to come to terms with. Anger, he could handle. Regret, he would welcome. But Harry’s amiability, and carefree demeanor can only be born from indifference.

He’s moved on. He doesn’t care. And that is something Louis doesn’t think he’ll ever be strong enough to face.

OR - The worst heartbreak of Louis’ life walks right back into it when his parents invite their family friends on an all-expenses-paid trip for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Facing a past that he tried to bury long ago, Louis learns that some people have a way of sticking with you even when they’re gone.

Far Away. by dimpled_halo (57k)

Harry swallows hard, clearing his throat. “Hi Lou,” he says, looking at Louis reluctantly. He’s even more gorgeous than he remembers, so much, he feels uneasy looking directly at him, he’s so beautiful.Louis looks at Harry, does a quick once-over and smiles, eyes so bright and blue—just how Harry remembers. “Harold!” He gets up out of his seat and embraces him into a warm hug. It’s a friendly platonic hug; one that ends way too soon. Harry wishes it would last longer so that he can breathe Louis in and memorize his new but somehow still familiar scent. It instantly leaves his body aching for more.

**** Harry returns to London after five years. Stuck in the past with "what ifs" and "what might have beens", he sees that his friends and ex (and possible love of his life) Louis have all moved on with their lives while he finds himself questioning his own life choices, past and present.

I Was Yours (I Wish You Were Mine) by staybeautiful / @harruandlou 56k)

“Harry Styles!”

His name rang out clear through the city streets. He turned quickly back to the bar, startled by his own name and startled by the voice that called him.

Standing in the doorway to the bar, back lit and glowing slightly was Louis.

Not an eighteen year old apparition dressed in the same low slung blue jeans and t-shirt with swooping bangs that was always the image in his mind. No, he was Louis now.

or Ten years ago Harry dropped his best friend and high school boyfriend off at the train station and never saw him again. Now, he's twenty seven, living in NYC, and dreadfully unlucky in love. He can't stop wistfully thinking of Louis promising that they'd see each other again in ten years time. A chance meeting outside a bar has them tumbling head first into a summer of music, milkshakes, and maybe each other.

You Taught Me How To Love (You Taught Me How To Stop) by devilinmybrain / @thedevilinmybrain (50k)

“I was always better at hand to hand than you,” Harry growls, even as he leans his weight into the blade. It’s small, sharp, has a handle of gold roses.

“I don’t know about that.” Louis moves his arm forward, makes the presence of the barrel of the gun fit snugly to Harry’s hip. “I think we just play differently.”

“You going to shoot me?” Harry asks, those wild eyes tracking over Louis’ face. “Do it.”

“I think I’ve put enough scars on you,” Louis answers, means it about the stretch marks still lining the sides of Harry’s stomach, but it lands a little too raw. There are other scars on Harry’s body that Louis blames himself for, scars inside too.

No One Does It Better by nodibs (49k)

Harry’s an alcoholic and Louis is a bartender. The first time they meet isn’t the first time they’ve met.

Drifting, Weightless by dinosaursmate / @dinosaursmate (45k)

“We’ve been asked to do a gig,” Niall said slowly. “Harry and Liam are completely up for it, I am too.” “Alright. What’s the catch?” Louis asked with suspicion. “It’s, um…” Niall cleared his throat. “So, Juliana was contacted by this themed cruise company, and they want us to do a four-day One Direction cruise.” The words hung in the air as Louis’ right eyebrow slowly crept up and he fixed Niall with a stare. “Absolutely not.” Louis rolled his eyes. “You’re essentially asking me to go on a working holiday with my ex. Stranded on a boat in the ocean for four days.” “Cruise ships are huge! You don’t have to see him in your down time.” --- Harry and Louis are exes with benefits until they're not, and the Mediterranean Sea might just be the perfect place to work through some unresolved issues.

Bloodsport by tofiveohfive / @tofiveohfive (40k)

“You know how our next game is against the Cardinals, right? You remember how vicious those guys can get. I wanted us to come up with some plays, maybe work on a block from the left—”

Louis stops when he hears a chuckle.

He doesn’t think he’s said anything particularly funny, so he turns to Harry, waiting for an explanation.

“‘S funny, ‘s all.” Harry throws his finished bottle somewhere near the other discarded ones. “This is the first time you’re talking to me in eight months, and it’s still about football.”

#exes to lovers fic rec #larry fic rec #fic rec #category fic rec #read #hlcreators.

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teriri-sayes · 2 months

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Reactions to Chaos Creator's Chapter 266

New title - 33. Do You Think It's Possible With Your Own Power?

TL;DR - Cale reveals that he was an otherworlder sent by a god to stop the god-wannabe dragon. Freedom spies on the emperor. Jungwon says that Dragon Lord came to visit him. Cale is troubled because of gamer Alberu.

The Discussion First half of the chapter was a continuation of Cale's "discussion" with Emperor Alt. Cale revealed about his otherworlder status and his mission, giving Alt false hopes of power when Cale added that he would leave this world after his mission was done.

Of course, Cale knew that Alt's ambition would be hard to achieve, especially when King Dennis was present. Dennis had slyly offered to assign "aides" who would do chores for the mages and swordsmen in Cale's group.

With the great upheaval happening 200 years ago, magic and swordsmanship naturally regressed, so Cale understood why Dennis wanted his kingdom's theoretical mages and reserve swordsmen to "become aides" of the mages and knights in Cale's group. So Cale agreed to Dennis's offer, referring him to Ron and Rosalyn.

The Messages It seemed like the area near the ruined temple of the Chaos God was a no-signal place because Sui's group stopped contacting them after teleporting there. And while Cale was thinking of eventually going there too, he received two messages.

One was from Jungwon who said that the Dragon Lord personally visited him. What? How? Did the Central Plains have a World Tree where the Dragon Lord could use to trace the source of the world and talk to Jungwon, like how he did in Aipotu?

But Cale was more alarmed to read the 2nd message which was from Alberu. Yeah, Cale's bad premonition was correct. Alberu had indeed become an obsessed gamer! 🤣🤣🤣

Alberu's message: I heard that the game is getting a large update patch. It's said that from now on, game users can also build a nation. I plan to try it too. Cale: Ha! Alberu's message: FYI, I was selected as a Rising Newbie, a rising powerhouse among newbies. I think I will participate in the best rookie competition as Roan's representative. Cale: Ha! (Alberu Crossman. That person plans to establish a kingdom in a virtual reality game and be the king. And what? Rising Newbie? How immersed were you in the game to get a title like that!) Cale: *video calls Alberu* Alberu: What? I'm busy now, okay? *moving his pen nonstop* Cale: *shocked* Alberu: What's wrong? What happened? Raon: H-Human! The crown prince has puffy eyes! His cheeks are sunken! We have to give the crown prince 10- no, 100 apple pies! Cale: *covers face with both hands* Aren't you tired? Alberu: *stops writing and smiles* You mean doing both work and games? Cale: Yes. Isn't it better to do it in moderation? Alberu: *shrugs* Isn't it worth a try? Raon: T-The crown prince looks like my human now! Cale: This is driving me crazy.

Oh how the tables have turned. Cale and Alberu have switched their iconic lines of "It's worth a try" and "This is driving me crazy" 🤣🤣🤣 And that Rising Newbie title. Yeah, that's pretty much confirmation of Alberu's game addiction. What have you done to him, Cale?

Ending Remarks The last part about gamer Alberu was hilarious. Next chapter would be Cale's meeting with the pope. I guess we're going to find out soon the chaos the three troublemakers had done there. 😂

#tcf spoilers #trash of the count's family

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amyriadofleaves · 2 months

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outside it starts to pour — neuvillette | chapter five

synopsis: in the limelight of fontaine, the prying eyes of its people never truly tears their gaze off the iudex and you, the présidence du conseil d'état, which makes for baseless rumours to fester and echo throughout the theatrics of opera. you and neuvillette are challenged by the reputations the both of you are expected to uphold, and the weighty decision to navigate these intricacies rests upon the discerning judgement of fontaine's archon.

{prev} ; { nav } ; { next }

ao3 : wattpad ˚　.˚　

⌗ pairing : neuvillette x fem!reader ⌗ feat : neuvillette, reader, wriothesley, clorinde, sigewinne, mention of furina ⌗ warnings : brief mention of poison consumption ⌗ word count: 7.6k

Behind the valour celebrated in tales of renowned swordsmen lies the silent duel against doubt and fear, where pride meets vulnerability.

Soreness racks your entire body and everything in you screams to stay still. An oddly familiar feeling of recollection drowns out the pinching of the gash that stands at bay; a dam that’s lost function. The morning after a duel never welcomed you; instead it tore you apart, and sewn you back together with the thread that puts you back together.

Your body aches all over, and your whole being begs you to stay still. A strangely familiar sense of memory overpowers the squeezing of the gash that was there to keep it at bay, like a broken dam. The morning following a duel never welcomed you; rather, it seemingly always tore you apart and stitched you back together with the same thread.

Turning to your clean side, you are greeted with a dozing Clorinde, arms crossed, slightly slipping off her chair, and her head slumped to the side. The realisation of your stinging torso hits as chuckles escape from your lips, observing how her hat tips by millimetres with each passing second. The bedside clock ticks, and you lazily refrain from turning your head, concluding that you've woken a little too early.

Before you can contemplate cleaning yourself up, the subtle shift in your movement stuns the duelist awake.

Her hat slips off her head.

Her voice is dry and coarse when she yawns. “Why, aren’t you up early?”

“Or maybe you just woke up late.”

“Duty calls even when sleep does, chenapan. I estimate that I have slept for only…” she checks her watch. “two and a half hours. You—however— have been asleep for almost forty-eight.”

You slump onto your back, and are now facing the ceiling (you ignore how a drop of water drips onto the apple of your cheek the second you turn). “Sucks to suck. I really needed that, though. Whatever it is, I have work tomorrow. The cogs aren’t gonna oil themselves.”

The ache as you move goes unnoticed at your sudden adamance to leave, and Clorinde promptly holds an arm out. “Wait.”

Complying, your hand finds its way to the edge of the mattress and you sit. “What?”

“I had to deal with some business on the surface, so I decided to purchase a new blouse and new pants, a skirt, another blouse except it’s blue, and…” she reaches for a bag that leans on the leg of the chair, and briefly pulls out a piece of cloth you assume is the blue blouse she’s talking about. I’ve seen enough of blue, you think, the hospital gown you wear is not flattering for your figure. You appreciate the thought nonetheless, and accept the gift. “ I also purchased a new pair of boots for you.”

You slowly outstretch your arms, weary with indolence and fatigue. “Thank you…?”

“Think of it as an apology. “

“Oh? That’s certainly a first. The Champion Duelist apologises for injuries sustained from in a ring! It is quite alright, Clorinde.”

“I did say think of it as an apology. You could take it as a blessing — your muscles are practically bulging through the sleeves. ”

“I know right!’

She scoffs. “Now you’re just full of yourself."

Restraining a laugh, you raise two fingers in mock salute. “I’m a busy woman. Gotta take what I’ve got.”

‘I can see that. Now go get changed. You reek.”

“What an insensitive tone. You’re talking to a patient.”

She does not play victim to your antics. “Yeah, yeah, whatever makes you happy. Make it quick, we have to catch Sigewinne to discharge you before she’s off to work.”

You nod, swiftly pursuing the refreshing embrace of open air. Yet, a hiccup disrupts your stride as you think: must I meet the public eye once more? A silent prayer escapes, hoping Neuvillette remains oblivious to your absence. What merit would your presence bestow upon him, except added burden and responsibility? He, undoubtedly significant to you, occupies your thoughts and you do not waste a thought in thinking he deems your company delightful. You hope it stays that way.

“How does it look?” You do a little spin in your new outfit, painfully aware of how the fibres of the bandage that hug your abdomen clutch onto the inner fabric of the silk blouse that you find is a little tight around the underarm.

Clorinde looks up from her lap and her eyes round in surprise, and then into jest. “As painfully corporate as ever, madame.”

“You never fail to irritate me, don’t you?” You clutch the bag of clothes and hold it alongside the leather bag you had with you before the whole spectacle in the ring.

“Behold. Your hero’s here.” She points to a little figure skipping down the steps and she smiles at you, giving you a ‘you’re almost free!’ look.

Sigewinne skips to your side, silently lifting the fabric of your blouse and peeking through the bandage to examine the stitches. “A little swollen, but it is very much normal for an injury such as this. You are all set to be discharged!”

An infirmary admission in the Fortress of Meropide is unforeseen, yet its homely, cramped nature piques your fascination.

Wriothesley loiters around the exit and waves when he recognises a familiar raven haired girl beside you. When his eyes drop to your abdomen, a light smirk graces his lips. “Seems like Aurora has woken up from her century-old slumber. “

Clorinde shoots him a glare. A soundless argument plays from their eyes alone, and you are standing as stiff as a rod, grateful that you do not have to know whatever they are going on about. Falling victim to their brief glances you feel yourself shrink. A brief, whispered ‘what?’ elicits from the duelist’s lips and your head snaps to hers. From the slump of Wriothesley's shoulders, you assume the debate has reached its impasse.

“If you’re all going to argue about me, at least let me in on it.”

Wriothesley’s head cocks and he grins. “Hey, it’s nothing personal. Pains me to see you go, don’t get me wrong — but I’m afraid you’ve outstayed your welcome.”

"Oh, what a heartfelt farewell. I'll try not to let the door hit me on the way out," you quip, grabbing Clorinde by the forearm and waving the Duke goodbye.

“Wait.”

Clorinde is pulled backwards as you pause in your tracks.

The duelist’s arm slips free of yours, and she crosses her arms, briefly raising her brows, almost prompting him. “Forgetting something?”

“I’m making a break for the surface. So would you two like to have brunch? My treat.”

Clorinde is puzzled. “It is not everyday your schedule is so free. Are you sure you have time—”

You give her a chiding look and you smack her shoulder lightly. “We’d be very delighted.”

___

Wriothesley gulps down a tremendous mouthful of his tea. “What a hidden gem this place is…” He looks at the menu, his fingers skimming through the words in quest of the cafe's name.

“It’s Café Lutece,” you say, voice muffled with your mouth full of escargots. What a delicacy—you nearly roll your eyes at how good it is, savouring every nuance of flavour that dances on your palate, and your shoulders sag in indulgence. You almost ask for a second, but you abstain from doing so when you realise that it is not you paying.

“Yes. Café Lutece. I knew that.”

“Totally.”

“Manners.” Clorinde berates, subtly directing your attention to the people around with a pointed look, then back to the two of you. Suffering at its worst is falling victim to constant scrutiny. You steal a glance at the duelist and find that she has returned to enjoying her lasagna.

Wriothesley doesn’t seem to take the hint from Clorinde’s reprimand, and continues as normal. “That arena stunt with your sword, commendable stuff. Why haven’t you picked up something like that? You're a natural in the ring, minus that whole... hole.” He waves around his fork like a novice who has nothing to lose but his dignity that he doesn’t seem to possess much of either; and his eyes, seemingly moving of its own accord, casually dip to where you would see the gash if it hadn’t been for the bandage and the new blouse that Clorinde had purchased in lieu of an apology.

“So, I’ve heard you’ve only been recently promoted as the Présidence du Conseil d'État. How is it?” His voice drips with bon mot, but you cannot help but feel your heart beat louder against your ribcage. To put it simply, you do not know. To be thrown from role to role like a ragdoll rendered your own limbs to pomme puree, a struggling puppet fighting against brass strings; but you, too, aren’t able to chart a path for yourself in pursuit of success.

Swallowing whatever’s left on your plate, you wipe your mouth on the cloth that sits on your lap and sigh. Your face scrunches in distaste “Fame isn’t really my cup of tea.”

“Oh? And what do you mean by that?” Wriothesley questions, turning around only to be met with women fanning themselves and batting their eyelashes at him. “I get it.”

You bring your voice down to a defeated whisper. “Maybe if it weren’t for me getting married in a month, I wouldn’t be recognised everywhere I go.”

The Duke’s brows lift. “Am I hearing that right?” When he notices that Clorinde has dropped the conversation to finish her meal, a crease forms between his eyes. He prods her gently on the shoulder.

This doesn’t appear to bother her, because her body remains fluid and returns to normal: erect and inclined forward for a more liable distance between her and her food. Her eyes don’t leave her plate when she replies with a curt: “Hm?”

“She just said she was getting married.”

“I heard her.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

She finally looks up from her plate and stares plainly at you. “Congratulations. The man is truly an unlucky one.” The Duke laughs uneasily as you both take in her lack of interest.

At the met silence, Wriothesley crosses his arms. “I don’t understand why a hot shot like you would settle so early for marriage.”

You do not know if you should lie. Does the guise play out even for those you know? Should you tell him that you’re madly in love with the Chief Justice? No, you shouldn’t; for it is not the truth. But you should! You have to! a voice screams, trailing off into the void. You struggle with internal conflict, split between the need to sustain the masquerade and the desire to have the truth spill. The bandage, snug against your abdomen, is like an oppressive corset, confining not just your exterior but also every part of your being that is tied to a blasted contract. Your fingers reflexively seek solace in the shredding threads above your blouse, as if unravelling the fabric could soothe the conflicting thoughts that have become entwined within your mind. The echo of a distant voice encouraging disclosure reverberates.

You force a cold smile. “I am not giving up anything for my marriage, Your Grace. It is merely a testimony of human connection. I am well off by myself, yes, but would it hurt to have someone to give you a little push? For someone down in the fortress, you should know what it’s like to feel lonely.”

The Duke’s expression seems to sour at the resurfacing of the use of honorifics and he waves a hand in denial. “I didn't mean to come off as rude, madame. I am just puzzled at who exactly would be deserving of you as a wife? I mean — it can’t be the vendor selling macarons down the street, right?”

“The man I am to marry is Monsieur Neuvillette. Now if you would get me a glass of Fonta, it would be greatly appreciated.”

Unbeknownst to them, Neuvillette sits nearby, sipping on a cup of water as he discreetly eavesdrops on words that subtly bleed through conversation. His keen gaze carefully observes you from a distance, and with a thoughtful demeanour, places the cup onto its respective plate. Noticing the look of distress on your face and the familiar slump in the Duke’s shoulders, Neuvillette remains hidden. Clorinde and Wriothesley, engrossed in their discussion, remain oblivious, their backs turned to the subtle observer in their midst.

The man I am to marry is Monsieur Neuvillette. The phrase reverberates through his skull, each word echoing with a disconcerting resonance that sends a shiver down his spine. He doesn’t fail to miss how the words weigh like a burdensome anchor — how your expression, once lit with vivacity, falls.

The outfit you are clad in is something the Chief Justice had never seen you wear before; but he swats the idea away. Perhaps it is a trick of the mind, having not seen you in two days.

He is mildly cognizant of the ring and its box that is settled comfortably in his breast pocket.

Tonight.

Lady Furina's relentless insistence propelled the schedule forward, transforming what was originally intended as a week-long endeavour into an instant obligation for Neuvillette. The Chief Justice was, and is still less than amused. This unexpected directive threw his meticulously organised schedule into disarray, compelling him to undertake the daunting mission of 'proposing' to the so-called 'woman of his dreams,' a phrase coined by none other than the Hydro Archon herself. The sudden upheaval left Neuvillette grappling with the unexpected change of events and contemplating how to proceed.

He shields his face in a book, as if it would aid him in any capacity. A shame, really —he stands out like a sore thumb, unable to blend in among the normalcy of Fontainians. Anything he does in his power to remain hidden only has him hounded by the most desperate of women clawing at him like hawks for any opportunity to ‘bask in his presence’ (quoted by Lady Furina; this was another one of her drabbles, showing how she is ever so apt in her knowledge of theatre).

The Iudex catches onto how you shift the topic to your peculiar love for Fonta, and he finds that his nose scrunches in distaste. Fonta was never something he could grow to enjoy; it was too fizzy on the tongue, and Neuvillette certainly wasn’t one for such a sensation. But maybe if someone as hard to please as you could find a little soft spot for a drink, he could too. It has been a considerable amount of time since he’d been given an opportunity like this to not only sit alone at a cafe, but also converse with the people under no pretence or intention of banishing the guilty down in the depths of the ocean.

Neuvillette slightly raises his hand, eyes still flickering from the words of the notes he had pasted in the book to taking in how you had taken a looser bearing when his attention was diverted elsewhere. He casts a quick glance about, and a waiter appears at his side almost immediately. The priorities of humans are awfully disordered, he thinks, recalling how this particular waiter turned away an old guy after trying to ask him the same question for the nth time: "How can I help you?" What a pity that this individual was damned with weak hearing.

The same voice and intonation sounds from his right. “How can I help you?”

“I’d like a cup of Fonta please.”

Gloved hands move slowly to the glass table when he catches the slight quirk of your smile — and for the first time, realises that it is a genuine one. Your eyes squint, and you tilt your head to the side after the cup of Fonta leaves your lips. Raking your hands through your hair, the wind blows through the nape of your neck and teases at the necklace around your neck and he thinks this is the first time he’s ever seen you so content.

Neuvillette’s initial instinct is to leave you be and have you enjoy yourself for just a little while longer before the clutches of responsibility grip you tight again; but when the notion of fooling Lady Furina slyly makes its way to the forefront, he chastises himself. This is a sole, pragmatic responsibility. So why is he blurring the lines? It is a contract he must fulfil: an obligation of duty.

He recites what he must say under his breath: “Kneel on one knee. Say that I lo —” his eyes practically bulge out of his head and he stops short. Must he really say that he — loves you? The strained voice of Lady Furina echoes, imploring him to express his love for her with all of his conviction. He debates over the idea of checking it off the list, but then realises that the list shows no sign of diminishing in its fervency of declaration, and his cheeks flush pink.

Another point on the note proves even worse than the last. “Surely I must not kiss her?” he whispers, placing down the notepad. A deep breath, drawn with the intent to rewire his thoughts, is sharp and cold. Regret manifests into beads of cold sweat as he wonders of his own oversight of his incapability of taking a look at the notepad before leaving the Palais Mermonia. A realisation, as crystal clear as the reflections in Fontaine's still waters, dawns upon him: she, a virtuoso of subtle acts of cunning, reigns supreme in such wit. Of all residents within these refined walls of Fontaine, the Iudex, in his wisdom, should have recognised her devious nature well.

It is no wonder that Lady Furina had bestowed this encased in one of her light novels. “Do some reading!” she had said, leaving him with three words and a cryptic message he could not decipher; another trick up her sleeve, and still, he is all too unsuspecting.

In the era where Fontaine was a coalition of people under a new system, a figure he not only suspected but knew to be Focalors had granted him a seat with the best view in the grandest theatre; and little did he anticipate that he would eventually become a pawn on the very stage he had always observed from above in his own, undeniably mythical glory.

He does not notice that the fresh cup of Fonta is now cold.

But he does notice that the table where a group of three once sat is now vacant.

He reaches into his breast pocket and leaves a bag of mora that, to any normal person, would easily realise that such an amount could account for ten cups of liquid gold. But he, unlike the normal person, sees that the matter that is telling you of tonight's plans weighs heavier than the coins that cling against the glass table like cymbals. After having sat up and blowing his not-so-stealthy cover, he takes a pitiful look at the Fonta that shoots him a pleading stare. He shuts his eyes, and prudently wraps his fingers around the teacup, and takes a sip.

He prevents himself with his whole being to not lurch forward. It is not so terrible, he says: a silver lined lie. A smile forces itself through and he turns to the workers that stand at attention; all eyes on the Iudex of Fontaine. The tap of his boots echo loudly against the brick floors and he leaves as swiftly as the clouds intertwine in the midday sun.

Neuvillette takes a spin, and sees the three of you standing under the shade of the Chioriya Boutique. His eyes cling onto the way you weigh all of your weight against a pillar, armed wrapped around your torso. Judging by how the three of you rack with laughter, he assumes it is Wriothesley who has quipped and prompted the champion duelist and the head of civil affairs into giggles.

What is he doing?

Certainly this is a breach of the contract. Each party isn’t obliged to the whereabouts of the opposite party, unless consented to. You are going to think he followed you here; and that is something he does not want. To be in your good graces is a difficult thing, yet to forever dwell in your disfavour is a pit from which not even the sharpest nails can rescue anyone.

The group breaks apart, and you are left alone, head swerved in the direction of the duke and the duelist. What a formidable group of people, indeed.

“What nice weather today, madame.” The low-tone of a familiar voice brushes against your ear, and oh, who could it be?

You do not spare him a glance, leaning against the pillar for support. “Go on, enlighten me already.”

Though you do not see it, he is left fumbling with a note and how to phrase his next words. “Let us go on a walk, if you’ll allow me.”

You rely on the weight of your right heel to bring yourself to face him. Surveying him from head-to-toe, you notice something in him has changed; perhaps it is the freshly tailored coat he spoke of the night you returned his other one, or maybe it is a novel hairpiece. Whatever it is, he is different, more fleeting in his aura.

Sighing, you look down at your boots. “If it is so necessary, then I see no reason to decline.”

“Alright then.”

The next movements are oddly rehearsed, yet terribly timed. He offers you his left arm, to which you decline. “Is it possible to switch sides?”

“Oh — uh, sure.”

Neuvillette offers you his right arm — but realise to your dismay that it hovers a little too high for your liking, and you resort to slightly beckoning him to lower it with your own arm, which is now oddly interlocked with his. You take in a deep breath and feel his heartbeat quickening along with yours.

One foot in front of another, the two of you find a middle ground at what pace to walk. Three people on the sidewalk eye the two of you with judgmental eyes and you slightly tiptoe to whisper a few words into his ear: “People are watching.”

He then replies in a tone that isn’t too loud but enough for the surrounding people to hear. “Why is why, Mon Amour, an act is what is to satisfy the Hydro Archon.”

Tearing your eyes away from him, you ignore the confusion of emotion that stirs in your stomach, and you tell yourself it is your injury. Words seep through your slightly gritted teeth. “Don’t you think that’s a little excessive, Dear Chief Justice of Fontaine?”

Through your periphery, you see a smile. “Certainly bold words from the one who deemed it fit to bestow a kiss upon my ear on the very first day of our relationship, don’t you think?”

There is no time for you to take his words in because a person on a cart approaches at full speed, its wheels detaching one by one onto the road. The man whose arms are intertwined with yours forces you to the side of a cement wall, and his chest, an unwitting barricade between you and the unfolding drama, prompts you a very unpleasant view of the ruffles of his blouse. As the chaos settles, you force your gaze up and find that his eyes stay trained on the man that is now clutching his arm that lays limp in his own grip.

While bystanders attend to the injured man, your gaze lingers on Neuvillette's face, seeking revelations in the subtle nuances of the seemingly faint expression that paints his face. Your own stare is met with an intense, narrowing gaze when the Iudex turns and faces you, and you immediately feel the rhythmic rise and fall of his breath against the erratic beats of your heart. Embarrassing.

Clearing your throat, you push him and he stumbles slightly — but he doesn’t move as far as you wish him to. Through all that cloth, his muscles surely are toned! “What are you doing? Help him.”

Perhaps it is a trick of the light or the painfully scorching autumn sun, but his cheeks are flushed. “Not a worry, madame, stay right here.”

In the lack of his warmth you take in the sharpest breath and it cuts through your lungs like glass.

You place your hands on your knees and bend forward to catch your breath. A sting stretches like a miasma from your hip and you instinctively clutch at it like a vice; fuck, you’ve strained it.

Feeling even more eyes on you, you return as normal, plastering a faint smile and wishing everyone takes the hint to not raise any questions. Your left arm still remains pinching the perimeter of the gauze that now begins to feel like a tourniquet and you can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut for a brief moment. Neuvillette is by your side almost instantly, taking in the slight perspiration that beads down your forehead; just a moment ago, your face was completely clear of such.

“Mon cherie, are you quite alright?” he questions, pausing a little. You whisper a: “tuck my hair behind my ears,” to him, and he shakily complies, his hands swiping across your skin like a ghost.

You place a hand to his chest. “Why, there is no need to be so concerned about me! I am no damsel in distress, dearest.”

He returns your stare with a nervous chuckle and extends his hand out this time, a less secure form of a physical display of affection, but still a statement nonetheless.

You do not wish to continue beating around the bush, but the grin that tugs at your lips remains. “Tell me what you wish to say.”

His stride slows, and you slightly pull him forward to fall into step again. “Well, to put it simply, I am to propose to you tonight.”

You do not know where to fuel your surprise so the smile on your face deepens. “Couldn’t you have told me earlier?” The grin compromises the expressions on your face, to which passersby aren’t able to discern that your lips are actually moving.

“You’ll have to question the Hydro Archon on this, I’m afraid. Though I am glad I did meet you here, to save both of us an inconvenience.”

“You take me for a fool, Chief Justice. Don’t think I didn’t see you dining where we were.”

You bask in the widened eyes of the man from beside you. There you had him; hook, line, and sinker. “That was merely a convenience — Lady Furina suggested I take a little stroll around Fontaine to prepare myself for tonight’s itinerary.”

You tilt your head in amusement. “Convincing enough. So… tonight; but where, exactly?”

“I was thinking of the very precinct of the Opera Epiclese, the very symbol of romance itself.”

Outright, you reject his suggestion. “I think it is an odd selection.”

“Why do you think so?” the grip he has on your hand loosens as he turns to look at you.

“People, especially Fontainians,” you start, “barely frequent Erinnyes, let alone at night.”

Perfect. Neuvillette had rehearsed the response to such a question at least ten times, and he’s convinced he has it down to a T. “Lady Furina has connections, dearest. All the main media outlets are stationed around the area as we speak. And, it is the premiere of the newest, most dramatic opera in all of Fontaine’s history — as quoted by Lady Furina, of course.”

“That woman is out of her mind.”

The Chief Justice thinks to not respond, and instead moves on.“But keep it in mind there is no intention of us attending the premiere; the whole scene must play out when everyone’s out of the Opera Epiclese. We shall rendezvous at the aquabus station at half past nine — when it is scheduled to conclude. Is that a convenient time for you?”

By this point, you are defeated. “Yep.” you deliberately pop the ‘p’, letting go of his hand to rid yourself of your lace gloves. “Hold these for me, would you?”

Neuvillette notices someone else using a camera peering through a bush, and he quickly spots the camera's lens glint. “Anything for you.”

ONE HOUR BEFORE THE PROPOSAL

Your bed is tousled and you don’t even know if you are to wear a dress to your own proposal. All sorts of skirts and tops lay haphazardly arranged on your comforter, the silhouette of a bundle of cloth peeking through the crevices of crumpled shirts. A possible outfit? Maybe. You pinch it with your thumb and index finger and hold it up as if it were a cat; no — this won’t do. You make another dash for your closet and begin throwing things over your shoulder until you finally reach the bottom of the lot.

A dress sits neatly folded, slightly dusty, but a dress nonetheless. Your mother’s dress. You sit on the wooden floors and peer down at the basket once more with morbid curiosity. Your mind is thrown into a debate of whether an occasion like this is appropriate to wear such an outfit. It is a quarter before nine and you’re sitting on the floor of your apartment, barefaced and practically naked. Muttering a silent apology to your mother, you take it gently and pat it to rid it of any specks of dust.

The dress is a pale turquoise, the ends of the skirt a tethered lace. But one thing stands. It is sleeveless. When exactly was the last time you wore a sleeveless dress? You slap yourself to stop asking questions. Why am I suddenly thinking? Cut it out!

Turning around, you shuffle to your bed. Picking up a corset, you inspect it briefly; is this necessary? No. You take a brief look at the clean replacement of gauze that winds tighter around your waist as a substitute, and shrug it away, tossing it to some corner of narnia and you wish it appears neatly placed on your bedside table when you return.

You find yourself in a comical struggle to slip into the snug velvet attire, hopping on the pads of your feet and contorting your arms into peculiar positions. Finally victorious, albeit with a hint of dishevelment, you stagger towards your vanity mirror. There, a box of makeup beckons, urging you to indulge in its array of colours. The temptation of a baby pink lipstick proves irresistible in the moment.

Brushing your face with foundation, you set it down with powder, and it puffs like a plume of smoke. No, not your hair! You hastily smooth it down, the fine dust reflecting in the moonlight. An eye pencil, an eyelash curler, and mascara line the outlines of your eyes, and you push your seat back to inspect anything that might appear peculiar.

You look bland.

Without looking down, you pat your table and reach for a random eyeshadow palette. An array of potted glittery blues and greens lay orderly arranged, and you do not know where to start. Maybe a light green to set the eyes? Whatever. You use the pad of your pinky to swipe the eyeshadow across your lid and you reach for a deeper, metallic blue that wipes closer to the waterline. You lean back again, examining the sheen. Don’t I look stunning! You can smell how the women are to reek of jealousy at your very appearance. Sure, its application is haphazard, but wasn’t that the in thing? Or perhaps you were to start a new trend, like how you did with your excruciatingly blue colour palette.

Regardless of the absurdity of it all, this is oddly entertaining. Damn the blasted contract; you want to look good.

Earrings next. A dilemma unfurls: pearl or diamond? Hoops or studs? Too many options, so little time. A bounty of options dance before you, and think of how they’d appear against your dress and makeup. You think the pearls complement the ones that are stitched along the hem of the bodice. Studs, on the other hand, while embodying a certain casual charm, seem a pinch too informal for the grandeur of the occasion.

You decide to go for pearly hoops, and almost jab your ear with it.

Something tips over in the act of putting in the earrings and your eyes shoot to your right. Vials. It had almost slipped your mind. How dangerous the act of leaving your own self for three days is; how could you forget? Mithridatism, it is called — the very process of ingesting poison to immunise oneself from its very risk. Ironic how protection it is to you, but death it was for your mother. You almost contemplate abandoning it and never turning back, but you’ve come so far; and an idiot you would be if you succumb to your cowardice.

Clicking the hoops closed, you take a vial. You pop it open and ignore the burn as it travels down your throat. Gods above, you never can ever get used to its bitter taste.

Grabbing a purse amongst five others, you slip into a pair of white heels, leaving your apartment in a hurry. Your heels click loudly against the pavement, and you rush towards the heart of the city, ignoring all the awed stares that you garner from the people.

“She is nigh unrecognisable!” a strained voice shouts, and the shutter of a camera follows suit. The rest of the trip is a blur and you find you cannot recall anything when your mind is cleared.

You rush to the elevator and jam the button with your fist. “Damnit.”

The doors open and you press the button for it to close, ignoring the dazed look of a couple that disappears as the doors shut in their faces. Muttering a quiet ‘sorry’, you lean against the wall of the elevator for support. You can do it. Just act.

A ding sounds and a friendly breeze greets you, the silhouette of the man you can recognise anywhere standing at ease, facing the waters.

“I’m here,” you say, voice reduced to a frail squeak; and you’re surprised that he even hears you. The metal of his boots scrape against the marble as he whirls around, the unreadable expression on his switching to a grin.

“Ah, madame,” he regards you with his head bowed, and seems to study your face for an uncomfortably long, few seconds. “Do not be so worried, the aquabus hasn’t arrived.”

You flat out decline the claim. “I am not worried, monsieur. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to take a seat.”

Before you can, he stops you with a bouquet of rainbow roses. “Here, I thought they’d complement greatly with your eyes.” What type of awkward, low-budget line delivery is this? Too short and too concise, Neuvillette notes, already hearing the nagging of Lady Furina in his ears.

“Oh, uhm. Thank you.” You almost rip the bouquet out of his hands with how clammy they are, and its added grip only adds to the flush of your cheeks — both to be blamed on your exertion and anxiety.

The swish of water sprinkles lightly against your arm, and you look up to be greeted by an aquabus with the cutest Melusine standing atop, hands on her hips. Not that you wanted to play favourites of course, every Melusine was adorable in ways they know best.

Offering his hand, you respond with your own, gloved hands against lace. Lifting your skirt, you struggle with the steps and you’re immediately brought back to two days ago, when the Duke and Champion Duelist were reduced to ushers, waging war against a staircase.

Neuvillette, ever the gentleman, snakes an arm around the small of your back to support you up onto the platform. What is this treatment? No one’s around, and no one’s certainly watching. It is just courtesy, you tell yourself, yes! Just courtesy.

The two of you sit shoulder to shoulder, and Aeval eyes you silently, smiling a little with her hands moving to clutch behind her back.

She begins her rehearsed monologue, but you’ve heard so much of it that you choose to drown it out with the howls of wind that cart through your hair. The chill, night air has the hair on your arms to stand upright, and any semblance of sweat disappears as quickly as a bead from your dress slips, tapping against the metal of the floor, and into the water.

Oops.

You bend forward to fix the velcro of your heel and sit upright, running your fingers through your hair.

“A ribbon on your dress is undone — allow me to tie it for you.”

What exactly was this man on about? There was no ribbon in your dress, nor anything that could accentuate your figure in any form.

“I don’t ever recall having a ribbon wound in my dress, monsieur — oh.” A long string of white rolls in the wind, and realise that he is, unfortunately, correct. You turn and see his brow raised, another part of the ribbon encased between his fingers.

“W—well… It was merely an oversight. I can do it myself, Monsieur Neuvillette, thank you very much.”

“But I insist. It would be a pity if such a momentous occasion be ruined because of an untied ribbon, would it not?”

No, an indignant fire ignites within, a visceral urge to unleash the words that dance on the tip of your tongue. You want to scream at him; tell him that he is a dolt at thinking that you would allow him to so intimately bind the knot at your waist. To say yes is to succumb, and would you reveal such a lack of decorum to the one person you do not want to have seen you so vulnerable.

“Fine,” is a word that is foreign on your lips, and you do not know why you have just contradicted every argument within you for an act. A furrow forms between your brows, and you bite your lip to restrain words you do not wish to say spill from your mouth.

You turn to your right, bringing your hair to one side of your shoulders to give him a better view of the knot he is to tie. Fingers brush against your spine, and you cannot help a stunt in your breathing as he continues, working his way down. A discomfort blooms within your gut like a blaze when he tightens at your hip, and you jolt. The bandage was clinched enough as is.

His warm breath teases your shoulder, an alien heat against the cold of the oceanic wind. “Is there anything wrong?”

“Could — could you just loosen it a little?”

“Alright.”

Slumping at the newly given space between you and the cloth, you turn around, placing the flowers on your lap.

Neuvillette gives you a side glance, and looks away. You do not know if he compensates for another. “You look gorgeous tonight, madame.”

“Save the compliments for when the people are around, Monsieur Neuvillette. Wouldn’t you hate it if poor Aeval were to get the wrong impression?” You eye him watchfully, relishing in how his face seems to tense like being pulled at the strings.

The ride to the Opera Epiclese falls silent after your comment.

Bright lights line the pathway to the Opera Epiclese, and you do not know how your eyes gleam in the reflection of the yellow that shines against your dress. Huh. Lady Furina’s judgement has failed once again; there aren’t many people loitering around the Fountain of Lucine, except that of a few people who are sitting with glasses of what seems to be champagne in their hands.

The man by your side bends down and you look over to see another Melusine, with her hands cupped over his ear, whispering something you cannot discern. This garners a nod from the Iudex, and he returns to his full height and gives you a wry smile.

He bears the weight of your hand in his, and places a chaste kiss on your knuckles. “Shall we?”

“We shall.”

Flowers drop loosely in your grip and your other arm is locked with Neuvillette’s, leaving little room for comfort; but you swallow it down if it means that Fontaine is spared and no one’s lives are taken. You mutter a prayer that Lady Furina is using everything in her power to revert what is lost; because prophecy be damned if the one sole figure meant to salvage it all crumbles.

Sacrifice lingers in your hands.

Almost as if conjured, a flower cut at its stem sits in between the Iudex’s fingers and you return his stare with an expectant one. “May I?” is the question that leaves his lips, and when you oblige, he places the flower snug against your ear.

You wonder what you look like right now. If only you could make a run for it, steal a glance at yourself through the reflection of the Fountain of Lucine and fix your hair.

An awkward weight lingers in the air when the idea of what is to come burdens everything you lay your eyes upon. Splatters of water cool your jitters and you spot a dog laying its head down on the elevated pavement; it barks at you and you suddenly lose all respect for that bundle of fur. “What disrespect!” you exclaim, and this earns a laugh from the Chief Justice.

“It is harmless, dearest.”

“I know, you fool. It’s its bark that scrapes my ears like a blasted rake — can you imagine hearing that all because you simply exist?”

This did not take much imagination for him. Four centuries and critique after critique presents themselves as a well-versed routine, the familiar tune of disapproving echoing — not as strangers — but an old friend.

“I feel for your distress, and I suggest you take a vacation, if it helps to clear your head.”

You flash him a tired grin. “If my work wasn’t so merciless, I would consider it in a heartbeat. But alas, we all want what we can’t have. Take everyone in this country, for example ─ they’re oh-so passionate in pursuit of grandeur, but have nothing to show for themselves.”

Neuvillette brings his lips to your ear so you can hear him better. “An astute observation indeed — it seems to you that you see their own strength as hubris. Which is why, mon coeur, Lady Furina has twisted the strings of the people; but, tell me, do you reckon they are to react as Lady Furina intends?”

“I think people react in ways they wish; there is no specific formula for the ways of humans, as sad as that may be.” your implication at knowing of Neuvillette’s inability to conform to the habits of people shoots through him like a lance, but he isn’t able to discern whether you had meant for your choice of wording to hit home.

A rumble has you lurching forward, but Neuvillette catches you by the arm. “Do you feel that?”

“It must be another leakage of the waters, but I do not sense that anything has taken effect.”

Applause and whistles seep through the doors of the Opera Epiclese, and both of your heads whip to the entrance.

“The rest of them are coming. Put on your best show— show them your unwavering facade.”

You look at him, and for the first time since your mother laid limp on the marble floors of your home, you feel pure, unadulterated fear. “What if they find out, murder me, and drag me senseless into the dirt? Would I be known as a heroine, or reduced to a measly coward?”

Neuvillette wraps both his hands around the base of your forearms. “Regardless of the outcome, I shall bear the burden. This concerns both of us, and I am resolved to ensure that nothing unforeseen shall jeopardise you.”

Nodding, you level your gaze with his, and steel your feet against the ground, almost as if you would tip over had you left yourself weak and vulnerable.

“Do not take my next words into consideration, it is merely fabrication.” He glances to his right, and the first group of people come pouring out, chattering in loud bursts of laughter and debate. Reaching into his breast pocket, his hand comes away with a velvet box and he finally begins the first line of his script.

You do not process his words, because your vision becomes blurry and the familiar taste of poison almost rises up like bile in the back of your throat and you want to faint. The flash of cameras blind your sight and you see the hushed, curious murmurs of everyone that begins to crowd around the two of you like vultures to fresh prey.

“You are my confidant, my love. I wish for us to remain like we are, hopeless and entwined,” he kneels on one knee and holds the box between his hands, and opens it, a sapphire glistening amidst the blue moon.” So, mon coeur, will you take me as your husband?”

You summon a smile, albeit with effort, and laugh. “Yes!” The crowd erupts into another wave of shouts as he stands, holding your hand as he pushes the ring onto your finger, smiling. Gloved hands snake around your waist as leans in for a kiss, but instead, he is met with his lips against the apple of your cheek.

He does not realise his delay in reacting until the fountain erupts in a fluorescent flurry of purples and pinks.

a/n: guys. their relationship is DEVELOPING DONT WE LOVE SOME DEVELOPMENT I KNOW YOU DO

taglist : @sek0ya, @souxiesun

#neuvillette fanfic #neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette genshin #genshin impact #enemies to lovers #marriage of convenience #arranged marriage

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harrystylesfan2686 · 2 months

Text

Swordsmen Ship

Pairing: Nesta x Reader

Summary: When Nesta's ignorance to you increases so much that you have no other choice but to challenge her to talk to her.

Warnings: fighting with swords. Not much really.

A/N: Trying to write things I've never thought of writing before. Plzzz tell me your thoughts on this one because I'm really proud of it and want to hear you thoughts as well.💕🫶

Masterlist

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You were twelve when you first met Nesta.

Hiding behind a tree, she was watching you with big intrigued eyes. Watching your every moments as you skillfully moved your wooden sword. You noticed her in mids of trying a new move your father taught you.

She was confused, seeing a girl with a sword for the first time. Her father always said that fighting of any kind was for boys. He was always a bit narrow minded in his beliefs of what boys and girls should do.

When you beckoned her to you, she had hesitantly obeyed. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Swordplay." You answered with a tone. Your sassy teenageself was surprised to see confusion in the girl's blue eyes.

"Are you a swordsman?"

"Well not yet obviously," You rolling your eyes. "But father says I'm getting better. One day, I'm going to be the best swordsman ever seen!" Your bight grin had encouraged a small smile in Nesta's face as well.

"Will you teach me as well?" Nesta's voice unvering as she asks. She wants to learn too. And if her father wasn't going to listen to her then she'd find her own way.

Your grin widened into a smirk. "You think you can handle it?"

Nesta's confident smirk was well of an answer.

The both of you met every week after that. In the same garden, at the same time. Both, telling your father's that you were going to play, not a lie but not entire truth either, just not say play with what.

The two of you became quick friends, having meeting so frequently, you two become so close, you were inseparable. Your families disapproved of the other, being so different than each other but you didn't care. The two of were stubborn, having similar traits for getting what you want, no matter the cost.

When Nesta's family ran poor, none of her other friends cared. All of them turned their backs to her, not caring about her. But not you, no, you stayed. You stayed and helped them all as much as you could.

You brought them little money from your allowance without you parents noticing, went food hunting with feyre when you could. You treated her like a little sister, still do but now she's all grown up. A woman through and through. You sometimes did the chores that were given to Nesta which she never did, you or Feyre ended up doing them.

You have to admit you were very disappointed in Nesta in that particular time. Who sends her fourteen year old sister to hunt in the forest for food. You knew Nesta was, ashamed of herself for not doing anything but was too arrogant to admit it.

You had let go of everything that time, you were damned if you let it go this time too.

The night Hybern soldiers came to kidnap the Archeron sisters, you were their too. Your parents out of town, so you thought it would be alright to spend the night there, oh how wrong you were. They took the sisters and you, knowing you weren't the one they wanted but took you anyway because leaving you here meant the humans finding out about them and only other option was killing you, they thought their king would be the one to decide wether or not you seemed important enough to live.

"We are already throwing two girls in, why not a third one too, just to be sure."

You still remember the smirk on the King of Hybern's face as he waved his hand to order you in the Couldron. The face filled with evil and cruelty, still haunting you in your nightmares. And as if surviving that wasn't enough, you found out before the War that your entire family had been killed. Everyone starting from your parents and ending with distent relatives you don't even remember the names of.

Nesta grew so heartless after the War, towards everyone, even you, and as much as it hurts to admit, you miss her. Miss the version of her that you remember in the garden, training with you, with a smile so wide on her face. You miss when you both would sneak out at night from your houses, despite of your families wishes, just you see each other and talk and laugh until the first rays of sun crept up, popping your bubble of happiness.

You think of all the times she ignored you after the War, breaking whatever relationship the two of you had left. All the times she tuned away from where you stood or got out of the room when you walk in.

It hurt you. She hurt you.

So when you take two swords from the rack of weapons in the Illyrian camp, you don't think of anything but the times she destroyed you, and wanting to talk to her in any way you can. You could only think of one way to get her to pay attention to you, the one game the two of you have been playing since you were twelve.

Swordsplay.

With one sword in each hand you go near the rock Nesta perched at while Cassian sparred with some male. Nesta knows you're here, Mor having winnowed all three of you, and still didn't care to even glance at you.

You throw the sword at her feet, the blade landing with a thug on the ground. You walk back a few steps and get in starting stance. "Pick it up." You bark the order at Nesta and she eyes the weapon. She raises an eyebrow at it as if to question why.

"I challenge you to a sword fight." Your voice ringing in the air as you stand with you legs apart and holding the sword with both hands in front of you, the point slightly tilted towards her.

That seems to get her attention, blue eyes finally landing on you. The disinterested expression fuling your anger. She scoffs, taking in your position,"I will not fight you."

"Too bad. Cause I will." You swing you sword toward her, almost hitting her head as she instanty ducks and misses your blow. Her eyes wide when she finally stands up straight and realises your not joking.

"Pick it up!" There are eyes on you now but you don't care as you again go through a series of attacks which she brilliantly parries and drops down to take her sword with a curse. You pause for a second to let her get steady with the weight in her hands and then attack.

Again and again and again.

You sort through different moves, all of which she defenses, surprising you that she remembers everything and does without mistaking, even after not practicing these months.

"Why are you doing this?!" She spits out in between trying to block your moves. You stop for a second,"Why?" You mock before twisting and slashing the blade aimed to her stomach. She flips her sword and stops yours with enough force, preventing it from slashing her half.

You step back,"Because you're insufferable!" You swip your steel to her head and she rolls hers against yours in a full circle before pushing you and stepping away. "You haven't looked at me in two years! Haven't talked to me! Haven't showed me any care at all!" Every sentence starting and finishing with an attack and defence move.

Her lips curl, in anger or annoyance, you don't know. "If I've been so bad, why Haven't you given up yet?" This time she attacks and you dogde without worry. "Why not just accept you hate me and leave me and move on?" The forces of the blades harder now, both of you brimming with anger, if any of you manage to not block the attack coming, you might injure the other badly.

You scoff and slice the blade through air, aiming right in front of her and she stops the move with the exact same force, your swords now formed in a cross, forced to stay still as the energy equivalents on both sides, snips of orange fiery sparkles releasing from the ajoined sharp edges.

"Don't you understand?" You release the cross and twist, slaming your blade at her grip, sticking with all the force you have, landing just above her fingers and she loses grip of her sword, releasing it with a grunt. The sword falling to the ground a few feet away from you but before Nesta can even try to see where it landed, you knock her down with your elbow below her chin and turn your leg to kick behind her knees, forcing her down.

She falls with a groan and you step over her, pushing your knees on her thighs to prevent her from getting up and put the sharp point of the blade under her chin with enough force to scare her without breaking skin.

"I can't hate you because if I do, I won't have anyone left to love."

Everything freezes. Only the deep breaths of you both sounding in the air. The exhaustion finally hitting you like being poured on by cold water. Your eyes blur with unwanted tears and you get up from her, stepping away and throwing the sword off in an instant like it burned you.

You look into her eyes one more time, letting her see the pain and hurt and agony in them before turning and walking away. You dont know where your going but know that anywhere away from her.

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#acotar #acotar fandom #acotar fanfiction #nesta archeron #nesta acotar #nesta #nesta x reader #nesta x you #nesta x y/n #nesta angst #nesta fluff #acotar angst

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tanadrin · 12 days

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i fired up civ 5 recently bc i wanted to see how it compared to my memory of it, and if anything it's actually much, much worse.

one unit per tile just... does not work with the idiom of the civilization series! units are not like armies in a GSG, they're like units in an RTS game: grist for the meatgrinder. you build them and throw them at your enemy and if they lose combat, they die. they don't retreat and recover morale, you don't get a chance to reposition and try again, they just go poof. but now in addition to that, you can only fit one unit of a type on a given tile, which means combat is forcibly spread out over a huge space. it's slow, slowed down further by the fact that it now takes a couple turns to fully resolve a fight--i guess the idea is that you can have your injured units fall back, except because of the way units get blocked in now, no you can't!--but you still need tons of units to take cities.

which means they didn't get rid of doomstacks. doomstacks are still logistically necessary to win wars! they just made them really fucking annoying to move around the map.

and on top of that, because OUPT applies to all units, it means you are also constantly having your scouts and workers and other civilian units being blocked in by your own units of the same type, or other players' units of the same type, meaning if you sign an open borders treaty with the AI you are frequently signing up to having your own units' movement being jammed up in the worst way by computer players. and on top of all THAT the units cancel their movement orders if the destination tile is blocked, even if the destination tile is on the other side of the map and you can't see it--which means, basically, any long-distance movement order is liable to be randomly canceled if an AI unit ends its turn on your destination tile.

it feels janky at every single level. the worst possible fix to something that wasn't even really a problem--and if they really wanted to they could have implemented some kind of very basic attrition mechanic. or some other kind of soft cap.

and and and on top of all that, it makes roads and railroads substantially less useful, bc frequently you cannot actually fit all your guys on one road or railroad--but you can't just carpet your territory in roads now like you used to do, because roads cost maintenance per turn. just. ugh. fractally bad decisionmaking! like different people were working at different ends of the design doc and not communicating at all!

the global happiness system means expansion is soft capped early in the game, which makes it feel less like an empire management game than a game of managing four to five cities. since very many units are now hard capped by resource availability now, and expansion is limited, AFAICT in most normal games this means you get like.. two swordsmen? ever? mainly it's strong attack units that are capped in this way, but their defensive counters are uncapped, which means actually playing strategically with your army composition is more annoyance than it's worth. in practice, what this incentives is just building the best trash unit you can afford en masse and throwing them at the enemy, but, of course, see the problems with OUPT.

they took out civics and replaced them with Social Policy trees. but everybody has the same set of social policy trees. and there's a bit of a tradeoff here in which trees you choose to fill out first, but you never then switch those old trees out for new ones like civics. they're just permanent bonuses. so there's no sense of, like, choosing your government type.

and then in BNW i guess they realized people missed that, and created Ideologies, which are just a bonus extra-big social policy tree where you get to pick between liberal democracy, communism, and fascism. but of course there's only three. and this isn't unlocked until the late game.

what they really should have done is added more civics and rather than just having you progress from early game civics to late game civics made all civics contextually useful. and maybe given you some extra civics that were unlocked early in the game so you could strategize around them.

as a part of this change culture is now more load-bearing, but cultural victory is just... weird and stupidly complicated. you have to build tourism, and do archeology, and build wonders that provide slots for great works that your three different kinds of great artist create, and all this other crap. versus domination, where you just conquer the other guys. or science, where you just build your spaceship. it's dumb and bad and awkward.

there's no conquest victory now. only domination. but because of the way domination works, it's now not possible to move your capital manually. this is awful and i hate it! let me move my capital, damn it!

buildings no longer go obsolete, which means that if i am founding a city in the year 1973, i still need to build a City Walls in it before i can build a Military Base. this feels ridiculous. and the series already kinda has this problem where it feels like late game it takes forever to get a city really up and running--don't make it even worse by making me build shit from classical antiquity before i can build modern facilities!

the AI is not very bright. they don't expand very much. on big maps, most of the map will remain empty most of the game, at least up through mid-level difficulties i usually play at (that are supposed to be "standard", so I assume the game is balanced around them)

diplomacy is irritatingly primitive. there are few ongoing agreements. declarations of friendship all last a fixed amount of time. the AI is constantly interrupting you to tell you it doesn't like you or it does like you or you and another AI player all like each other. just expose an opinion modifier and be done with it! harun al-rashid and i don't need to pass notes like it's grade school!

they nerfed the range of air units and especially nukes. which feels really weird. the 20th century saw the invention of strategic bombers that had a range of thousands of miles. why can mine only reach cities right next to my own? why do my nuclear missiles have a pathetic range? sure, sub-launched nukes are a thing, but they're only one part of a proper nuclear triad. there's no MAD anymore!

especially because the world congress can order you to stop building nukes and there's nothing you can do about it. you can't defy world congress bans and suffer a penalty. international law has some kind of magical force that even if you are the undisputed hegemon you cannot help but obey. this is very stupid! especially because they could not think of anything interesting for the world congress to do, so it's all shit like banning random luxury goods.

all the stuff i do like--the city-states, the hex grid, the core idea of the trade route system--is swallowed by annoying bullshit. to take the trade route example: you can make money by setting up trade routes. it can be quite lucrative! and you have to protect your trade routes from bandits and shit. but the menu for issuing trade route orders is a mess--way too much scrolling, you can't sort by lucrativeness of destinations, you have to constantly re-issue trade route orders, and the last trade route a unit was on isn't highlighted, or sorted to the top or anything like that. so it's lots of scrolling around, it's very annoying, and it's repetitive as hell.

the real stick in the eye is that this game was not only reviewed well, it was reviewed glowingly when it came out. which is bizarre to me! yes, it looks nice. the art is good and the music is pretty. but it feels awful to play! it is on almost every single metric less fun than civ 4! civ 3 is more fun, and civ 3 was terrible. i hope to god firaxis was bribing people left and right for good reviews because the only alternative explanation i can think of is that everybody who was reviewing strategy games in 2010 was also in the grip of a brutal glue-sniffing habit.

#allegedly there are mods to fix OUPT #but i couldn't get them working #and also apparently the game doesn't support modded multiplayer at all?!#jon shafer were you kicked in the head by a horse #why did that sound reasonable to you?!

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thebottomfromhell · 11 months

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Hello. I do not know if your request are open, but if they are could you please write courting headcanons for upper 1.2.3 like you did before? If yaou do not want it is okay (sorry. English is not my first language)

Requests are always open, I just might take a while in some. Don't worry, if anyone wants me to right anything as long as it follows the rules of the blog, I will. I did promise to do this if anyone wanted so to this I will add Gyokko and Nakime, so:

Traditional Courting [more or less], Demon Male Reader. (Also no sexual content).

First part here.

Warnings: Cannibalism, Human death, Mentioned suicide, Trauma(?) dumping, angst (why the fuck I can't write Akaza without angst?)

Kokushibou:

You first asked him for permission to court Kokushibou, he only told you to get out of his sight. You did.

A few months later Nakime summoned you into meeting him again in the Infinity Castle. You were told you would be, not only courting Kokushibou, but staying with him to search the family that leads the Demon Slayer Corps, Ubuyashiki.[Muzan got tired of Kokushibou not finding anything and started to relate it to him just not searching at all, so you are there to remind him and motivate him to do so.]

Kokushibou was not very happy with these news,offended that a man wanted to court him and give him the traditional women's role, but accepted gracefully the orders. At first, he only ever ignored you, but you slowly, very slowly, managed to spot what would awake his attention as you both searched through all Japan (it gave you more time the fact uou disn't know how to recognize the Ubuyashiki he send you after and Kokushibou seemed to get lost in his mind more often than not). But even after he was not the one to start a conversation, he prefered to spend time in quietness and quiescence. He barely eats, barely does anything other than meditate and practice his breathing forms. It's like he's more a slayer than a demon, but you don't mind.

Kokushibou just doesn't take anything you offer he doesn't like, and it takes you months to figure out his taste in gifts and food. Turns out he likes handicrafts, not buyed or stolen, but actually made from the one who gives the gift, not caring for quality of the product, but for the effort. You found out since he had a small and horribly done bamboo flute with a clean cut in his robes, when you tried to make another flute he also kept it. "It's.... I feel like you care. The fact that you did it yourself... It's personal." So you use rocks, paper, bamboo, clothing, wood and other things you find and steal to try and make jewelry, fans, karakuri boxes, origami and so. He always takes them, even the ones that are made poorly.

As for the food, again, he barely eats, but you only have ever seen him eat swordsmen, mostly samurais, but it's like everytime they are harder to find [the samurai class was abolished at 1868]. You decide to motivate him into trying new meals, he doesn't eat old men nor slayers, but you later find out he didn't even like the taste of the samurai "I don't know why, but it feels right for them to die by a demon." You did find a new favorite, buddhist monks, the closer to the Nirvana the better.

He doesn't like to be called anything other than his name, and he prefers the use of honorifics. He is also not kin in starting physical contact, but with time he starts accepting your approaches. Most of the time he just likes to sit down and listen you talk or having you hughing him in silence. There are times he starts conversation, he talks a lot in those, being more a monologue than anything else.

"I only want to become the best. Become more than... but it doesn't matter anymore. Right now you want to become part of my life, you wanted that so badly you went to Muzan-sama for it, and for some reason he decided to grant you what you wanted. I don't understand what he saw in you, but... your presence is now something important. Just make sure to always be behind me, reaching for me, and I will always be near to accept you." Honestly, he always speaks so cryptically you gave up in the meaning bahind of what he says, he never explains it. But you try your best to be understanding.

You spend hour days moving and searching, everytime you act more like a nomad married couple, but you never get a ceremony. Kokushibou would only like something 100% traditional and samurai cultured [just like his human marriage was], but with the timeline, you both being male, you both being demons, none of you having families, money or knowing your ancestors, it's just impossible.

"I don't mind if we stay like this forever, just you and I." He whispers against your embrace one day. This is still good, after all.

Douma:

When you asked Douma permission to court him, he was already taking you him for you to get the blessing. Douma was very interest in what you had to offer, but to be fair, he genuinely though he would kill you or you would cower down, but none of them happened. Once you asked for the blessing he only looked at you both with anger and disgust, and the second his eyes where focused on you only, you could sense a mix of indignation, confusion, pity, disappointment and indecision. At the end he only sighs and told you to get lost and that he is not dealing with it. "Oh, well. He didn't say no. I guess we are courting now, aren't we?" And that is how started.

Douma has a hard time not being the center of attention, so the traditional female role suits him just fine. He likes how often you go to his place and always invites you to stay over. He is very kin in petnames, but to your surprise he likes also more feminine ones, and doesn't mind being called "Princess" or other nicknames specifically adressed for women. "Being called princess feels nice, it's a very pretty way to call someone in a golden cage, stuck in a throne they were born to sit it. I would just adore it if you called me that."

Douma is always way too honest with you, sometimes dumping into you informations and expreriences that are actually traumatizing but he doesn't seem to care. He also likes when you validate his feeling, even the ones he doesn't actually feel. Other times he wants you to go against him, only for the sake that he can do anything he wants and nobody would stop him. You wonder if that is how he expresses freedom, since he already told you he has been all his life inside this cult as a if he was a living Buddha statue.

He is ok with any gift, every gift. No matter what you get him, he never shows preference. There was only two gifts that definetely managed to get through him. Those two you gave him in a desperate attempt for him to show any type of reaction for what you gave him instead of a "Oh, lovely. I will save them in the warehouse so nothing happens to them." It was a broken nichirin blade (now looking like a knife) and wisteria poison the same user of said blade had with them. Douma always carries them with him. "My mother killed my father with a knife, and then she poisoned herself. It was my first encounter with death, these gifts make me nostalgic. My heart never beat so fast before that and I remember wanting to leave but not being able to move. Is that what disgust feels like?" Should you regret giving him that?

It's well known Douma eats woman like a drunk drinks alcohol, so you thought his favorite meal is something that could only be found in a female human body, like the uterus, breast, ovaries, fetuses, unborn babies, placenta or something like that. To your surprise, he likes to eat the heart the most, still full of blood, hopefully, since it's an organ very mild-tasting, but tender. He likes any healthy heart, and getting those is rather easy. He also sometimes likes to eat human food, only for the sake of being able to eat anything he feels like and the sickness it brings. "You would be a good husband, taking care of me like now when I do something fun but stupid. You would stay with me forever after our marriage, wouldn't you?"

In the end, after a year of courting, he sends his followers to prepare the wedding under your guiding, he isn't really part of the process and makes no effort to be so. You end up as his consort inside his cult, the marriage is a peaceful one, but you still try every day to try and make Douma feel hapiness. Still trying. At least you had a great ceremony, expensive and big, with everyone of Douma's followers watching with joy. After the ceremony Douma picked a cult member that fitted the best in your taste and shared him with you. "Now, as a part of me, you should be able to give eternal life to this people, inside of you. Living forever just as they wished from the start, now witnesses of our beautiful love story."

(Also, Douma tried to invite Akaza to the wedding, it didn't work.)

Akaza:

You asked Akaza permission first, he stays paralyzed for straight ten minutes, lost hin his mind with a disturbed face. His first reaction, after he shakes his head, is to tell you you would need his blessing. At first he denies you, but before you manage to leave he tells you he changed his mind. That Akaza is very hardworking and deserves to be spoiled a bit, so you better make him feel good. [Muzan did want to give you to Akaza as a reward, but also as something that would motivate him to get even stronger and work even harder.] "I didn't expect him to... forget it. Just don't get in my way, we need to look for a damn blue spider lily or whatever."

It takes him a while to warm up to you, but even before that he gets protective and doesn't let you out of his sight. He doesn't even care for the fact you are a man, just that you are there and safe. He also seems to like when you call him a certain pet name "my Komainu", you call him because of how protective he is, sometimes you call him "Haku" as it's shorter. He seems both sad and happy at the same time when you do. He even has told you he likes it more than his own name, for some reason.

He is bad taking gifts, for some reason he always worries too much about the price or starts to fret if they were stolen. "Just sto doing that! It's not like I need anything, it's just some stuff. You are only causing trouble, running around and stealing like that will only make you lose your hands! And he will kill himself!" Sometimes he says things that don't make sense even to himself, but he worries a lot. Still, you know he likes pink and snowflake patterns. So you try to make your own gifts with those traits, he keeps everything close, tidi and clean.

Akaza is very vocal in not eating women, small children (he can eat teens), nor sick people. While he likes to kill weak and coward people, he is not fond on eating them. He likes to eat slayers and swordsmen, so it's a bit hard for you to get the meals he likes without dying at the process, but you manage. He is a very messy eater, he destroys more of the body than he eats, but spends a good time doing so. It's like he hates the food, likes the taste and, as any other demon, loves to eat. Still, he prefers relying on training than in eating.

"You are not a bad guy yourself, thank you for... taking care of me. Taking me in." You train with him amd try to adapt to his eating paterns, in result, you get stronger. No way near to an Upper Moon level, and definetely not as fast and efficient as eating woman would be, but you are very strong. Plus, you manage to catch a Marechi with the traits Akaza likes twice or thrice in the courting years, which helped. "You are every day stronger and helthier, make sure to take care of yourself. I will still protect you, but don't do anything stupid."

You spent five years courting him, Akaza was very hesitant on accepting to marry you. "It's not that I don't love you, Y/N. I would love to be your husband, that you vould be my husband but... but you will die! I don't know why or how but you will die amd it will be my fault! I won't be able to protect you!" He rambles, clearly distressed, the first time you ask him, you have to embrace him and cuddle him for around a week. It takes a lot of time, but you manage to reassure him everything will be ok.

You both prepare the wedding, slowly, very slowly, even with the limited resources. You make sure to listen what he wants. A ceremony on winter, under the snow, with fireworks at the end, at an specific town, a small event, and then to go home. He gets scared and needs a pause for every preparation you make and item you steal, but you don't mind waiting. You managed to fool a young buddhist to marry you both, it was a beautiful ceremony. Akaza cried during it, then spend the rest of the month cuddling and crying with you. "Please don't die, don't die. I beg you, stay with me. Don't die, don't fucking die on me. Please."

You keep taking care of him after you get married, and he stills hugs you everytime as if you would die the moment he lets you go. Sooner or later he will realize nothing will happen to you, but for now you must be ready to comfort him and calm him down.

(Also, the second Douma found out Akaza was married and he wasn't invited, he decided to make a second wedding by himself ans his followers, forced you into it so he could be in it.)

Nakime:

How did you even get here? Like, again? The second you asked permission to court her she threw you out of the Infinity Castle, only to bring you back with her and him in less than a day later. Guess what, you've got the permission, the blessing and even an order from him. How? Why? No idea. [Yes idea. Have you seen Nakime's blood art? Also the fact she dislikes men in general and Muzan, who may disguise as much as he wants but is still a HE, forces her to welcome them in her home? She is too important to lose, so your job is to make like you enough so if she wants to rebel he can have something on her that would not kill her.] But who are you to say no to him, even with Nakime glaring dagger towards you.

The first weeks everytime you try to speak to her she sends you somewhere else. You are lucky that because of his orders, she doesn't throw you at the sun or starve you. It takes you a year for her to stop toying around with you.

Even before that you were getting her gifts and food. You did the basics, get her biwa strings and other materials sl she can take care of the instrument. [She doesn't really need them since her biwa is part of her blood art, it maintain itself, but she liked the gesture and the attention]. She also likes kimono's, she kept most of what you got her, some of them were not of her liking, but besides that, the feeling of filling a wardrobe made feel wealthy, but you have seen her wearing them. She is not a person of jewelry, but she kept a few of the ones you got her, mostly the ones for her hair. Every once in a while you find with one of those with part of her hair pulled up.

Her diet are mostly men, drunk men to be more clear. It's a weird taste since the slcohol tends to ruin the blood, and it's even more weird that she actually likes the lungs and vocal cords, but you don't comment on it. You had to ask him for this information since you never once saw her eat before you.

"I appreciate the gifts." It was the first time she said to you two years after you asked permission to court her. She was never the one to hold long conversations, and you were not the exception, but she did like to play and sing for you. You always show interest in her music, and she likes the positive attention. She likes when you call her nicknames related to music. "Dear melody" "My artist" and "Beats" are names she react positively.

It took you three teats for her to finally accept you, but she was hesitant. "I do warn you, if you change your attitude and become a deadbeat husband I will confine you into an endless corridor of my domain for you to starve until you kill yourselve." You swear the besides singing you never heard her voice say so many things in less than hours of difference. She is serious.

Still, you let her handle the ceremony the way she liked it as you got the priest and another kimono for her. For your surprise, not only the halls were decorated, but he would assist as well with his favorite Uppermoons. Nakime was not as pleased with their presence, but she wanted him there on this special night.

It went well to both of you and you started to stay with her at her domain, you kept doing gestures for her and helped in everything you could. She is happy with that.

Gyokko:

You ask Gyokko permission first, he only allows it because, of course you are enamored by him! Who in their sane mind wouldn't? If you want to show appreciation, then who is he to deny you? He will let you court him, but warning. One mistake and you're out.

When you asked him for the blessing, he looked at you for seconds as if you said both the most stupid yet interesting question one could ask. After a few seconds he decided that it wasn't his business and told you to do as you pleased. Gyokko was a bit offended by this but there wasn't anything anyone could do.

As for gifts, Gyokko likes art in general, so you could get him pieces or material for his pots. He appreciates it very much, since you show attention to his interests. "Oh, Y/N! You've got such a good taste! I may consider you as a husband later on, such a beautiful pigments, and you say they are foreign! I don't care if you stole them or buyed them, but I would love if you got me~" And to your surprise, his favorite art collection is actually the Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji fron Hokusai. "Stamping is, in my humble opinion as an artist, crass. But still, the motive is beautiful and has a very nice display of perspective." You get him the 46 prints.

Gyokko is very picky with his food, he only ever eats people with soft and tender skin and flesh, healthy organs, a clean body and a a face that's at least easy on the eyes. "Appearances help the appetite!" he explained the last point. But to be honest all of these traits together are easier to fing in young women and children, and he prefers the last one. Gyokko hates children, with his soul. Another dead child instantly makes his day better, so he gets very happy if you get him some to eat.

He hates nicknames, but he likes to use them. He also starts making you pots and sharing his food for you before the year ends, enamored by your accommodating attitude towards him. He also loves when you touch and massage his body, specially his scales in his last form. He loves that he is able to relax with you. "Oh, darling. Who would have though a beauty like me could fall for someone like you... no offense."

The moment you ask for his hand he jumps at the chance to design his own wedding, not letting you choose anything but still expecting you to help. Still, in arts and decoration he got good taste, so uou trust his judgement. It was a big event he filled with his summounings, javing the sits full. He made his sadistic art of joining men in a pot with some priests, who were the ones who married you.

"I bet you are very happy to be married to me, dear husband. You've got very lucky. I hope you keep amusing me as always~" It's good, he is still the center of attention. But you are both ok like that, besides you also keep getting presents from him and starts teaching you how to make pots. Also got you a grand honeymoon in the Tokashiki Island with his pots, in the Aharen beach, so no complaining.

[Keep him away from the children, please.]

Bonus: Gifts for the child

Kaigaku is still new at being a demon, he likes to collect things that remind him to his human life. Don't misunderstand, he is proud of his new strength and the fact he survived the Upper Moon One after just becoming a slayer, but he didn't ask to become a demon, it was just that the options were dying or that. He likes specially peach seeds, nichirin blades and cheap haoris. As for meals, he likes to eat young people, hopefully weak and male.

#kny headcanons #top reader #kny x reader #demon slayer #kny #upper moons #kokushibou #akaza #douma #gyokko #nakime #kaigaku #male reader #courting

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