#me when i am a well rounded warrior in my own right and just because i cry for my friends that die does not mean i cry because of battle | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ninjadeathblade · 2 months

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Shopping Trip (Lego Monkie Kid fanfic)

Summary: The majority of the gang goes shopping. Then Wukong and Macaque play video games.

Warnings: Brief threats, Wukong and Macaque have issues to work through (they're also very dumb about the fact they love each other), swearing

Word count: 6,072

Author's notes: This would NOT leave me alone so here fandom, take the gays residing in my brain for the last two days. Sandy isn't here because I had no idea what he'd be doing. This is 90% indulgent Shadowpeach content for myself but hey, that's something. This is set post Emperor's Wrath. Enjoy.

“Hey, Monkey King, why d'you always wear your fancy robes?” MK questioned after the three of them took a break from training.

Macaque stifled a laugh, looking over at Wukong and revelling in the confusion on his face.

“What do you mean?” Wukong asked around a mouthful of peach flavoured crisps, crunching noisily on them.

MK shrugged and gestured. “You and Macaque always wear your fancy clothes whenever you come and just hang out with us, you can't be comfortable in it.”

“Look, kid, I hate to break it to you but we don't actually own any other clothes,” Macaque replied.

“I can make some though!” Wukong exclaimed, one hand already reaching to yank hair out of his head.

MK and Macaque rushed to stop him, the former tackling his hand still holding the bag of crisps, while the latter reached through a shadow portal to grab his wrist.

“Quit it Wukong, you already eat enough of your hair as it is, no point in you wearing it as well,” Macaque said with an eye roll.

MK’s eyes went round as saucers. “Please tell me that those crisps aren't hair.”

Wukong averted his gaze with a nervous laugh. “Whaaaaat? No, pfft, I'm not that- er-”

“Monkey King! You promised to start eating proper food!” MK whined, poking him in the cheek.

Wukong sighed. “Yeah yeah, I am, kid, I promise, now can I have my arms back?”

Macaque glared at him over MK's head, getting a returning glare.

MK gasped and jumped up, waving his arms wildly. “Oh my gosh, I know just what we should do?”

“Yuh-huh and what's that?” Wukong asked.

“Mei keeps telling me about this super cool new shopping centre that opened up the other week!” MK explained. “What if we all had a day out there and you guys can pick out some comfy clothes for hanging out with us?!”

Macaque shook his head. “Look, kid, I appreciate it but-”

He went silent as something yanked his tail, head whipping around to catch another tail quickly retreating to Wukong's side.

Oh that little-

“It's an amazing idea!” Wukong replied with a grin. “Let us know when you want to do it and we'll be there.”

“Funny how you now speak for both of us,” Macaque muttered, opening up a shadow portal beside him and reaching through to yank Wukong's tail.

The king turned to glare at the warrior, Macaque shooting him a shit-eating grin in return.

“Okay! I'm gonna go, I'm working this evening but I'll see you guys for training again tomorrow!” MK said before beginning to run back down the mountain. “Thanks again for the training!”

A beat went by before the two of them turned to each other.

“You know you could be more supportive of the kid,” Wukong snapped.

“Me? Really? Last I checked you were the one who abandoned his training!” Macaque argued, standing up. “Because that's what you always do isn't it? The great Sun-Wukong who always puts himself first.”

Wukong's jaw clenched, tail lashing behind him, and for a moment it seemed like they were going to fight again.

Then the king's shoulders heaved and his posture slouched. “Can we not do this right now?”

Macaque rolled his shoulders, the joints clicking slightly. “Running off again?”

“Can you stop?!” Wukong shouted. “I don't know what you want from me but you're not gonna get a rise. I'm done with this - with you always trying to bait me into another fight. I have people to look out for now.”

Macaque scoffed. “You can't tell me you actually care about the kid.”

“Bold words from someone who also cares about him,” Wukong retorted and Macaque's fur bristled. “Oh yeah, don't think I haven't noticed. While I was off doing very important things, you kept showing back up. Some part of you does actually care about MK, be honest.”

“Nope, doesn't sound like me,” Macaque stated, tail tapping against the ground twice as he opened up a shadow portal. “See you around, Monkey King.”

Wukong dashed forward, one arm outstretched. “No, wait, Macaque-”

The darkness surrounding him.

Silence.

Well, it wasn't quite silent, it sounded like everything was muffled and underwater.

Macaque took a deep breath, artificial air expanding his lungs.

Wukong was still there although it was like seeing him through murky glass, thumping a fist against the shadows on the ground before giving up and walking away.

Macaque floated in the inky expanse, debating on whether or not to return to his dojo before deciding that he would just stay here for now.

It was peaceful.

It was everything that outside wasn't.

~•~

“Hey boi!” Mei cheered, tackling MK into a hug before waving at Wukong. “Heya Monkey King!”

“Hey,” Wukong waved, pulling his loaned hoodie further over his head. “Hey bud, you sure that no one's gonna recognise me in this?”

“I dunno honestly but if not you can transform, right?” MK argued.

“Fair point.”

“I still do not understand why I have to be here,” Red Son complained, foot tapping impatiently. “If we are all here then can we go already?”

“No, sorry, we're still waiting on someone else,” Tang answered.

“Who else are we waiting for?” Wukong questioned. “The pig guy?”

Tang adjusted his scarf. “Oh no, Pigsy is at that food stall over there shouting at the chef because he sold us half baked churros while we were waiting.” He paused. “Speaking of, I'm going to go stop Pigsy before he ends up in too much trouble.”

“Literally who else would MK invite?” Wukong's eyes narrowed in confusion. “I don't even understand why Red Son is here.”

“Hey!”

“I swear if you invited Nezha then this is going to be the most boring shopping trip ever.”

“Ugh, I wish he'd invited Nezha, then I'd have someone else to make fun of you with.”

Wukong spun around with a curse, glaring at their final arrival, who hadn't even bothered with a disguise.

“Great, just great.”

Macaque shrugged. “Hey, I don't want to be here any more than you want me to be here. Only reason I'm tagging along is that I was planning to grab some food anyway.”

“But we're meant to be clothes shopping,” Mei interrupted, eyes watery as she stared up at the warrior.

“Yeah Macaque, you promised,” MK added, also staring up with large eyes.

“Look kid I didn't-” The warrior paused and sighed. “Fine, I'll buy some clothes. But I'm picking what I get, not you guys.”

The two of them let out a cheer and rushed back over to Red Son, beginning to drag him in the direction of a shop.

“I cannot believe that I'm gonna have to put up with you today,” Wukong groaned as the two of them set off after the trio.

“Hey, you're the one who volunteered me for this so if there's anyone to blame it's yourself,” Macaque responded.

Mei and MK had seemed to immediately start piling clothes into their arms, occasionally thrusting some pieces into Red Son's arms.

Wukong stumbled backwards slightly when MK seemed to just appear in front of him, holding up two pairs of pyjamas. “Hey Monkey King! Should we get these matching Monkey King™ pyjamas?”

“Hey kiddo, I'm wearing a disguise for a reason so maybe keep your voice down,” Wukong chuckled. “But yeah, absolutely.”

The king turned to glare at Macaque when the warrior snickered.

“Something funny?”

“No, it's nothing,” Macaque lied, one hand coming up to try and cover the smile on his face.

Wukong let out a loud, over-dramatic gasp. “Are you making fun of my bond with my apprentice? Are you making fun of our super duper cool friendship?”

“No,” Macaque sputtered, trying to get his laughter under control.

Wukong leaned in, poking him in the face. “You are! How could you?”

Macaque stopped trying to contain his laughter at the theatrics, golden eyes screwing up tight as he nearly doubled over.

Wukong's smile wavered as his gaze flitted across the warrior's face.

He knew realistically why Macaque would cover up his eye.

Seeing his unmarred face and having these moments made it almost seem like nothing had ever gone wrong between them.

When Macaque straightened up again he shot Wukong a quick glance, accompanied with a shy smile before returning his attention to the shop in front of them. “C'mon then, no point standing around all day. Gotta find you something to wear other than pyjamas.”

“Yeah and we've gotta find you anything to wear,” Wukong teased. “What do you even wear? Like, leather jacket and grunge aesthetic boots.”

“How the fuck do you know what an aesthetic is?” Macaque swore, turning back to face him.

The king shrugged nonchalantly and grinned. “What can I say, I guess I'm just cool like the kids are.”

The warrior snorted. “Yeah right, the day that you're cool is the day I haven't died before.”

A silence fell between them at that comment and something flickered over Macaque's features.

Wukong reached out to him before the shadow slipped away from him, walking over to a rack of darkly coloured clothes.

There was so much they still needed to talk about.

Macaque flicked through the different hanging articles before smirking. “So, what about the fact that Red Son has a crush on either MK or Mei?”

“Wait, what?” Wukong spluttered.

“When the three of them were together back there, Red Son was blushing and stuff. Can't tell which of them is making him fall for them but I'm not actually that surprised.”

Wukong stood stock still for a moment, doing a mental reboot while Macaque moved on.

“Wait, no, hold on you little shit, are you for real?” Wukong questioned.

Macaque nodded. “When we catch up to them, just watch. I wouldn't lie, would I?”

“I dunno, seems like you lie a lot.” Wukong narrowed his eyes dubiously.

“Well, I'm not lying about that.”

They wandered for a little longer before managing to catch up with the trio.

Okay, Wukong had to hand it to Macaque, Red Son did seem to be blushing.

“Hey, Monkey King, you made it! We lost you back there!” MK cheered before turning back to Mei. “Ooh, Mei, do you still have the thing we picked out for Macaque?”

“Kid I don't-”

“Found it!” Mei announced, holding up the black mesh shirt.

Macaque's gaze dragged over it before extending a hand. “Okay, I'll try it on.”

Wukong did a double take. “You like mesh?”

“Haven't tried it before but it looks cool enough. If I can get something to go over it then I'd probably like it.”

Red Son held up a black sleeveless turtleneck shirt from the pile in his arms. “Something like this?”

Macaque shifted the first shirt in his grip before reaching out for the other. “Sounds good.”

“Oh and there are some dark coloured jeans by the changing rooms, wanna grab a pair of those?” MK offered.

“Mhm.”

Wukong trailed behind the bunch of them, briefly wondering where Tang and Pigsy had gotten to.

Him and MK plopped down onto a bench just outside the changing rooms, MK's stack of clothes beside him.

“I'm gonna try them on after the others have tried theirs,” MK explained. “Wait a minute, why don't you have anything Monkey King?”

“Um, well, I just didn't see anything I liked all that much, bud,” Wukong lied.

“Oh okay.”

The boy got out his phone, playing some obnoxiously loud game while they waited for the others to get changed.

“Okay, we're done!” Mei called after a while.

“Come out then!” MK shouted back, shutting his phone off and putting it back in his pocket.

“Macaque, you coming?”

“Nope.”

“Aw, come on, pretty please? You look great!”

“...Fine.”

Mei stepped out, practically dragging Red Son and Macaque with her.

And wow, Macaque actually looked kind of good.

The clothes actually suited him.

The warrior wrenched Mei's iron grip off his arm before grumpily crossing his arms over his chest.

“Woah, you guys look awesome!” MK gasped, clapping his hands together.

Macaque rolled his eyes and frowned when he looked over at Wukong. “Quit staring, Wukong, don't you know it's impolite?”

Wukong smirked. “Thought you said I was impolite.”

“Yeah, I know that you are. Doesn't mean you have to give me more reasons for it,” the warrior complained before looking over at Mei. “Hey, can we wrap this up and buy this stuff already?”

“Nu-uh, we've still got loads of outfits to try on! You and Monkey King can wait here while we finish checking all these sick clothes out,” Mei replied.

Macaque grumbled something under his breath before going back to the changing room.

Three pairs of eyes turned to Wukong. “He's just always kinda cranky, trust me.”

“I heard that!”

~•~

“Ugh, how much sugar did you even put in that thing?” Macaque asked, nose wrinkling with disgust at the sweet scent coming off of Wukong's drink.

Wukong moved the glass away from his face, a bit of cream smeared on his nose. “Um, I dunno. It has chocolate, ice cream, sprinkles, some more chocolate, some normal cream, some kinda sweet milk, caramel-”

Macaque reached out and grabbed the drink out of his hand while he was distracted listing ingredients, holding it out of his reach. “You are going to clog an artery if you have that much sugar.”

Wukong pouted. “Macaque! Gimme back my drink!”

Macaque opened up a shadow portal under his hand, hovering the drink just above it. “You aren't going to have all of it to yourself or you will die.”

“I'm immortal, I can't die,” Wukong retorted.

Oh yeah.

“You aren't going to have it all to yourself or I'll steal all the wine you're hiding at your place.”

Wukong's eyes went wide and he leaned across Macaque, desperately attempting to grab it. “No! No! Fine, I'll share! Just gimme the drink!”

Macaque dropped the drink through the shadow portal, watching as Wukong's face fell.

As the king turned back to the table the warrior opened a portal again, depositing the drink - now with two straws - back in front of him.

“Come on, if you're going to clog an artery then I might as well do it with you.”

Wukong shot him a quick glare but moved the glass so it was between them.

Red Son slid back into their booth. “They're still ordering but wanted me to say they'll be back soon.”

Macaque glanced over to the counter where Mei and MK seemed to be arguing over the menu of sweet treats.

“May I ask a question?” Red Son asked.

“You just did,” Wukong teased.

The boy rolled his eyes. “May I ask another question after the one I am asking at this moment?”

“Mmmmkay.”

Macaque lowered his head to take a sip of the drink, throat burning at how sickly sweet it was.

He'd never understand how Wukong could stomach these things.

“Are you two in a relationship?”

Macaque choked on his drink and Wukong hit him on the back a few times while replying.

“No, never! Me? With him? Tch, as if! He's so- him! And I'm so me!” The king answered.

Macaque gulped in a lungful of air after recovering. “This is the one time we agree on something and it's that we are not a thing. I hate him, he makes me feel like my skin is on the outside and my fur is on the inside. I'd rather have my heart served up on a platter to the Lady Bone Demon than go out with him.”

“Ew, did you have to be so graphic?” Wukong complained. “You're gonna put me off my drink.”

“Good. It tastes like shit.”

“Because you have no tastes.”

“I do have tastes. Anyway, you seemed to conveniently leave out the fact that this drink is peach flavoured.”

Wukong shrugged and smiled. “It's my favourite.”

“You sure you didn't make this out of your hair?” Macaque questioned, lip curling in disgust.

Red Son huffed. “No, I paid for his drink. And there's no need for you two to be so defensive.”

“We're back!” MK announced, flopping down against Red Son's side. “What did we miss?”

“Ah, yes, you are back,” Red Son flustered.

Macaque and Wukong shared a look.

So that's who Red Son liked then.

“Duh, that's what I just said,” MK laughed.

“We ordered every dessert they had!” Mei announced.

“Oh no,” Macaque whispered.

“Oh yes,” Wukong purred, eyes lighting up. “Desserts for everyone!”

The warrior dropped his head to rest against the table, grimacing at how sticky it seemed to be. “Why did I ever let myself be dragged along here?”

“Because you're our friend!” MK said.

“Greeaaaat.”

~•~

“Omg, these stationary sets are so naturecore, I have to have them for my aesthetics blog,” Mei gasped.

Wukong nudged Macaque to grab his attention before whispering. “Hey, d'you have any idea what that means?”

“No idea,” Macaque admitted. “As established earlier, I know aesthetic but that's about it.” The warrior smirked. “Aren't you the one who's ‘cool like the kids are’?”

“Shuddup,” Wukong laughed.

Macaque's tail flicked up to hit him in the back of the head before looking around. “So, we kinda lost Pigsy and Tang at the start.”

“Yeah, it'll be fine,” the king replied calmly, waving it off.

“Maybe for you. I for one would like to not be on kid sitting duty for the next decade.”

“It's only been two hours,” Wukong stated, snickering at the defeated groan Macaque let out. “What's wrong? Too old to keep up?”

“Wha- no,” Macaque denied sourly before continuing. “My feet hurt though. I'm not used to walking around this much. Usually I just use my shadows to get places.”

Wukong sighed before holding out his arms.

The warrior stared blankly at him.

“Climb on, I'll carry you,” the king offered.

Macaque immediately began to walk away from him. “Nope, nu-uh, never happening, find someone else prince fucking charming.”

“Come on Macaque, your pride won't be that wounded if you let yourself take a break,” Wukong whined, following him.

The shadow’s tail lashed behind him as he walked through the aisles of the shop, trying to catch up to wherever the other three had run off to. “I'll take a break when I get home later. Feet being sore isn't the worst thing I've had to deal with.”

Unspoken words hung between them and Wukong followed Macaque silently until they reached the trio, staring at row upon row of cards.

“Hey guys, whatcha looking at?” Wukong inquired, propping his head on MK's shoulder.

“We're helping Mei pick out a card for her dad's birthday,” MK explained.

“You could make one,” Red Son added. “Although didn't you say it's tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Mei groaned. “I was so busy helping MK train that I forgot.”

“You forgor,” MK said.

“I forgor,” Mei affirmed.

Wukong straightened back up, whispering. “What language is this?”

“No idea,” Macaque said.

“No idea what?” Mei asked.

“Nothing.”

“‘kay.”

Wukong smiled at Macaque.

The shadow returned it with a small quirk of his mouth.

It wasn't much but it was better than it had been.

~•~

“That's it, I am not being dragged into a spa, I'm calling Pigsy,” Macaque said, digging his phone out his pocket.

“You have Pigsy's number?” Wukong asked beside him before continuing. “You have a phone?”

“Yeah, and?” Macaque tapped onto his contacts. “Got Pigsy's number after the kid crashed out at my place one time. Also he makes good noodles.”

“I know right?” Wukong agreed, mouth practically watering.

“Hello! Pigsy's Noodles, how can I-”

“Cut the crap Pigsy, your kids are trying to drag me into a spa and I know that you and Tang are still somewhere in this shopping centre.”

“Oh fuc- okay, where are you guys, I'll come and get ‘em,” Pigsy sighed.

“Seventh floor, top right corner, next to the arcade place.”

“Wait, there's an arcade place next door and they chose to go to the spa instead?” Tang questioned.

“Red Son is trying to convince us all to get princess pamper sessions before we get wrecked and lose all our money to useless games,” Macaque explained.

“That'd do it. We'll be there in a few.”

Macaque hung up, quirking an eyebrow at Wukong's sad expression. “What do you want now?”

“You're gonna ruin their fun,” Wukong complained, gesturing at where the three others were currently crashed out on a bench.

“No, I'm just getting us the rest of the evening off,” Macaque argued.

When Wukong still looked upset he sighed.

“If I play your shitty game this evening will that make it up to you?”

Wukong brightened up. “Yes! Although it isn't shitty, take that back.”

“Maybe. Depends on how good your game is.”

Macaque looked over at the trio. “Hey, Red Son, a word.”

The boy seemed sheepish as he walked over, a sharp contrast to his usual confident demeanour. “Yes?”

“You break MK’s heart and I'll break all your bones,” Macaque snarled quietly.

“Okay so you're just coming out with it,” Wukong muttered.

“P-pardon?” Red Son stuttered, hair letting off embers.

“You aren't subtle. So you heard me. If you break his heart, I will break all your bones.”

Red Son swallowed thickly. “Y-yes sir.”

“Good.”

MK walked up beside them. “What're you guys talking about?”

“We were just saying goodbye,” Wukong supplied, somehow having come up with a good excuse for once in his long life.

“Oh cool. I'm sleeping around Red Son's tonight so won't be able to make it to training tomorrow, is that okay?” MK said.

Macaque subtly shot Red Son a glare while he replied to MK. “That's fine, see you in a few days kid.”

The warrior opened up a shadow underneath himself and the king.

“No, no, no, no, no, not the shadow portal!”

~•~

“Ugh, I think I'm gonna throw up,” Wukong complained as he dropped out of the shadow portal.

“Too bad, you fly your cloud recklessly and the shadows are quicker,” Macaque replied, dropping down beside him before opening up their shared bag of shopping purchases and grabbing out a handful of clothes. “I'm gonna get changed then I'm ordering actual food for dinner.”

“But my way is cheaper!”

“Yeah, and it'll have you hacking up furballs until your eventual death, Wukong,” Macaque snorted, shutting himself into the bathroom.

Wukong rooted around in the bag and grabbed out one of the plain shirts he'd picked out, slipping off his robes and putting on the black t-shirt before grabbing a pair of loose blue jeans out of the bag.

The king settled down on the sofa, aimlessly flicking through channels on his TV until his tail brushed against someone else.

Wukong lifted his head up, staring at Macaque.

The warrior practically had a halo of light around his head from the setting sun behind him, a sliver of yellow fabric visible under his dark hoodie.

“Hey. You up for burning off some energy?” Macaque proposed and Wukong was in his feet within seconds.

“We haven't fought in ages,” Wukong sceptically tested.

Macaque shrugged. “Nothing serious. But I need to stretch out my limbs and test how flexible I am in these clothes.”

Wukong dragged his eyes up and down Macaque. “Mhm, because ripped jeans are gonna be sooo easy to move around in. Prepare to be beat.”

Macaque smirked, sweeping out one leg and knocking Wukong off balance.

“H-hey! No fair!” Wukong growled, reaching up and tugging Macaque down with the edge of his hoodie.

The warrior let out a squeak, collapsing down beside the king before going still.

“Oh shit. Macaque? You good, bud?” Wukong questioned, moving closer.

Macaque spun around, hands catching Wukong's and pinning them against the floor. “I cannot believe you just fell for that.”

“Yeah, well, it's been years since you played that card while we've fought,” Wukong argued, one leg kicking out and into Macaque's stomach.

The warrior's grip on his hands loosened, allowing the king to flip the two of them over as he hovered over him.

His hands closed around Macaque's, mimicking the move just used on him.

“Not so cocky now, huh?” Wukong challenged.

Macaque just laughed and rolled his eyes, opening up a shadow portal underneath himself.

Wukong pulled back, watching as the other sank into the floor and disappeared before a weight crashed down on his back.

“Fuck! Macaque!”

“Got you now,” Macaque taunted, the two of them rolling back and forth until Macaque pinned Wukong down.

The warrior was just shy of sitting on him, chest heaving as he breathed.

Wukong sighed. “Yeah, alright Mac, you win, now get off of me.”

The shadow paused, golden eyes staring at him.

“What?” Wukong inquired.

“You haven't called me Mac since- since before,” Macaque stated, his grip on Wukong's hands loosening.

Orange and pink hues of light shone off of his dark fur.

It was beautiful.

He was beautiful.

“No, no I guess not,” Wukong murmured.

Macaque rolled onto the floor beside him, both of them staring up at the ceiling.

“So, if Red Son does break MK's heart we are absolutely going to ruin his life, right?” Macaque questioned.

Wukong rolled onto his side, staring at Macaque.

Tufts of dark hair stuck up in different directions, framing his face.

The king reached out with a hand before hesitating when the warrior flinched, eyes closing.

A long moment passed, before Macaque quickly got up, with a mumbled sentence. “I'm going to order dinner.”

“Yeah, okay,” Wukong responded, mentally kicking himself.

Of course Macaque still didn't trust him, why should he?

After everything Wukong had done, he had no reason to.

“Hey, Wukong, how many portions should I order you?” Macaque asked, one hand muffling the bottom of his phone.

“Three, if that's okay,” Wukong answered.

Macaque nodded before continuing to quietly speak to whoever was on the other end of the line.

Wukong walked back over to the sofa, sitting down and trying to avoid looking at his friend.

Huh.

When had he started thinking of Macaque as a friend again?

The other side of the sofa dipped as weight settled down on it.

“I'm sorry for flinching,” Macaque whispered. “Really going against my therapy goals.”

Wukong blinked before looking over at him. “You go to therapy?”

Macaque's tail wrapped across his chest, curling over his opposite shoulder. “Well, I'm trying. Kind of hard though when most therapists are mortal and I have issues with opening up about things from my past.”

The shadow let out a deep breath before slowly relaxing against the king's side. “Is… is this okay?”

“Yeah, no, of course,” Wukong flustered a bit, shifting so that Macaque would be more comfortable.

Wukong turned so his back was resting against the arm of the sofa, one arm circling around Macaque's waist.

The warrior tensed under his touch slightly before relaxing back against him, pillowing his head on the king's chest. “You sure you're okay with this?”

“Geez Mac, I'm fine,” Wukong responded. “Are we gonna start playing my game now or d'you want to wait until after dinner?”

“After dinner. I want to get some rest in,” Macaque sighed, opening up a shadow portal over the top half of his head. “I'll wake up when the food gets delivered, I'll hear it. You should get some rest too.”

“Yeah alright. You get some rest.”

“Thanks Wukong.”

“No problem bud.”

~•~

Macaque's ear flicked inside the portal as footsteps ran up to the door of his dojo.

“Hold on,” he murmured to Wukong, unsure whether his friend was even awake before sitting up and slipping his upper body through the shadow portal.

“Knock knock!” The delivery boy shouted as Macaque reached over to open the door.

MK grinned and held up the couple of bags in his arms. “Hey Macaque! This is more than you usually order.”

“Yeah, well, I've got company,” Macaque said evasively.

“Is it Monkey King?”

“Nah, I have other friends,” Macaque lied, reaching out with one hand for the bags. “Aren’t you meant to be staying around Red Son's?”

“Yeah, I'm headed there after this,” MK explained.

“Have a good sleepover, kid.”

“You too Macaque!”

“No, kid, I'm not having a-”

“Bye Macaque!”

The shadow sighed, shutting and locking his door before slipping back through the portal to Wukong's house.

The king was still passed out on the sofa, snoring at an obnoxious volume.

Or perhaps it was actually quiet, and Macaque's sensitive hearing was getting to him more than usual.

“Hey, wake up.”

Wukong blinked awake, sitting up before his mouth watered at the sight of the takeaway bags. “Oh yes.”

Macaque rolled his eyes but passed over the three portions Wukong had asked for. “You know, if you keep eating that many portions then you're going to get fat.”

Wukong let out an offended gasp before shovelling some of the noodles into his open mouth. “No I'm not.”

“You are,” Macaque replied, teasingly poking him on the stomach. “See? Round.”

“It's cushioning. For when I may somehow end up on the floor,” Wukong explained.

“Because I beat you up,” Macaque snickered, opening up his own meal while Wukong began to dig into his second.

“Shuddup.”

“Make me,” Macaque challenged, tail lashing behind him.

Wukong's golden gaze flitted across him before he went back to his meal.

“That's what I thought.”

After they'd finished their meal, Macaque let out a sigh. “Alright then, put on your crappy game.”

“It's not crappy!” Wukong protested, already digging through the piles of DVDs in front of his TV. “Alright, found it. Get ready for the best game you'll ever play.”

“I highly doubt it,” Macaque mumbled, nearly dropping the headset and controller thrown haphazardly in his general direction.

“What was that?”

“I said ‘I highly doubt it’,” Macaque deadpanned. “This won't be anywhere near as good as my game.”

“You have a game?” Wukong laughed, plopping back down on the sofa beside him. “Okay, that I have to play after you're done with this.”

Macaque let out a grumble but adjusted the headset before putting it on, slouching against Wukong's side as the game registered him in.

An avatar looking surprisingly like him loaded in on a dirt path, a chicken running out of a bush in front of him before glitching and dying.

“Wow. What a surprise, I was right, this game sucks,” Macaque huffed.

The king's tail flicked up to curl around the warrior's arm. “Aww, c'mon Mac, give it a chance at least.”

Macaque sighed but began to walk his character along the path, stopped only a second later as another character spawned in front of him.

“Welcome traveller, on your journey to the west!” The Monkey King greeted.

The background image switched so the character was pointing at himself. “As the Great Sage equal to Heaven, you couldn't ask for a better tutor.” The screen switched back to the first picture of him. “On your journey, you will learn to smite powerful enemies.”

God this was boring.

“After you complete the tutorials, you will learn how to access your hidden potential.”

Ugh, good, back to the overworld.

Now if he could just-

“Defeat each opponent to work your way up to the final boss, the Rhino King,” Monkey King said.

“Couldn't afford the rights for Demon Bull King?” Macaque joked, elbowing Wukong in the side.

“Nah, just seemed boring seeing as I already beat him.”

“Here are seventy two combos-”

Skip.

“Pay attention-”

Skip.

“Make many friends along the way,” Monkey King advised and Macaque tore off his headset.

“What the fuck is that background art?!” The shadow screamed.

The king grinned. “Flattering, right? You would not believe how quickly the game sold out.”

“That's atrocious!” Macaque shouted, hitting him on the head before putting the headset back on.

Yeah, no, he was skipping through all of this.

Eventually it let him go and unlock abilities.

“Hey, these are all passive,” Macaque pointed out.

“Just give it a moment,” Wukong instructed.

The monk on the screen sighed before it flicked to a different ability menu.

Macaque's eyes roved over the screen before he took off the headset.

“Really?”

“What?”

“A fucking muscle bro version of yourself in just pants taking up half the screen?” Macaque growled because it was very obvious why he was pissed.

Wukong smirked. “What? I think it's a good view.”

“Self obsessed asshole,” Macaque grumbled, trying to just focus on buying a couple of different attacks before giving up and handing the game controller and headset over to Wukong. “No, I can't do this, this is just something for you to admire yourself.”

“Fiiiiine,” Wukong groaned. “But I want to play your game now.”

Macaque opened up a shadow portal, sticking his arm in and rooting around. “Seriously though Wukong, are you trying to seduce the player or something?”

Wukong grinned slyly at him. “Are you saying I'm hot?”

Macaque's face screwed up. “...No.”

“That's it, the Six-eared Macaque thinks I'm hot!” Wukong shouted before getting up and racing to the entrance of his house and cupping his hands around his mouth. “The Six-eared Macaque thinks that Sun-Wukong, Great Sage equal to Heaven, is hot!”

“Shut up,” Macaque said, withdrawing his hand and tossing the game case to Wukong as he walked back over.

“It looks like it was made by a five year old mortal,” Wukong giggled but put the disc in anyway.

When the king settled back down on the sofa, the warrior stretched out, laying his upper body across his friend's lap.

“And what do you think you're doing?” Wukong questioned before slipping the headset on.

“Making myself comfy.”

“Yeah yeah, I'm gonna beat this game in minutes.”

A moment passed as the game loaded.

“Why does everything look like a crappy anime?” Wukong inquired.

“Fuck you.”

~•~

“This is the fourth time I've done this encounter and I still haven't beaten it!” Wukong whined, throwing the controller across the room.

“Aww, too hard for you?” Macaque teased, not even cracking open an eye.

“Pfft, n-no!” Wukong floundered, taking off the headset and putting it on the floor. “I'm just going to take a break.”

“Sure you are,” Macaque snorted, opening his eyes a sliver.

Wukong stared, stock still, not sure if Macaque had realised that the glamour over his eye was down.

The scar over that side of his face was still hidden, but mismatching gold and milk coloured eyes fixed a tired gaze on him.

“Staring is rude,” Macaque murmured.

Wukong blinked, looking away. “Yeah, sorry.”

Macaque sat up, stretching with a yawn, hoodie riding up his sides slightly and exposing the yellow shirt he had on underneath.

It was surprisingly nice to see Macaque in bright colours.

Wukong reached out a hand to skim over the dark fur that stuck up on one side of his head, smiling softly when Macaque didn't flinch away.

“Hey, are your ears okay?” Wukong suddenly asked.

Macaque turned to face him, eyes back to their glamoured gold again. “Huh?”

“Well we were at a pretty busy place for most of today so I was wondering whether it was hard on your ears.”

Macaque seemed to blush. “Oh, no, they're all okay.”

The king's hand dropped to skim closer to where another two pairs of ears had to be hidden on the warrior. “Can I see them again?”

Macaque's eyes went wide and Wukong quickly withdrew his hand. “I'm sorry, you don't have to-”

The glamours dropped.

Wukong couldn't help but stare at the hues of colour on Macaque's ears, having nearly forgotten them over the centuries.

But there they were again, still with such resplendent glory.

Moonlight shone through the window, catching the back of Macaque's face with rays of light that made him shine.

“Rude to stare,” Macaque repeated, seeming to curl in on himself slightly.

“You're beautiful,” Wukong murmured, trying to ingrain this in his memory.

Maybe then he would have something to keep when they eventually fought again.

And just like that the glamours were back up, hiding Macaque's appearance behind a facade.

“I- I should go,” Macaque stammered, standing up and conjuring a portal in the floor.

“No, Mac, wait, I'm sorry-”

Too late.

His warrior was gone again, leaving him alone again.

Wukong sighed and dropped his head against the back of the sofa. “Idiot.”

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blue-slxt · 3 months

Text

Romancing Pandora 7

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

A/N: Somehow, this turned into a fluff piece instead of smut??? Sorry if that's disappointing, I truly don't know how we got here, but here it is lol. I still hope you guys like it!

Pairing: Tsireya x Fem!Metkayina!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Pining, Best Friend/Wingman Neteyam, AoNete ship

“You are staring again”, Neteyam singsongs next to you breaking you out of your trance.

“Shut up, I was not!” The blush on your face is evident even though you try your best to hide your face behind your hair. He chuckles and lightly nudges your shoulder with his own. “You should just go talk to her.”

“It’s not that simple!” your hands slide down your face in frustration.

“Sure it is. Just walk up and start a conversation. I do it all the time”, he says matter of factly.

“Well, yea. You’re you! You look like that! And you’re charming and funny and a strong warrior and–” “Please, go on”

You laugh and lightly slap his arm making him raise his hands in mock surrender.

“My point is, she’s the daughter of the chief. She’s not just anybody. It’s different talking to her.”

“Oh, yea because I wouldn’t know a thing about that. I’m just dating the future chief. No big deal.” He drips sarcasm and you roll your eyes.

“Fair.”

Neteyam’s eyes shift from your face to looking right behind you and a smirk crosses his lips. “Don’t freak out, but she’s coming this way”, he half-whispers.

It feels like your heart rate doubles in a matter of seconds. You hurriedly run your fingers through your hair in an attempt to seem more presentable while still looking casual. Your eyes widen in slight panic looking at Neteyam and he simply raises his brows at you in a way that says ‘just talk like a person’. Thankfully, he starts the conversation to hopefully make the transition easier for you.

“Tsireya, how are you today?”

You finally turn around and she’s closer than you had realized. Great Mother, she’s beautiful. Her wavy hair perfectly frames her round face and her eyes somehow seem to always glitter. And her smile makes your heart jump to your throat.

“I am fine, thank you. I wanted to ask if the two of you will be joining us for the celebration tonight.” Her eyes bounce between the two of you, but her gaze ultimately settles on you waiting for an answer.

It’s as if your mind has completely melted and took all sense of speaking with it. It’s only when Neteyam lightly nudges you that the lump in your throat allows itself to be swallowed down.

“Y-yes. Yes, we will. Can’t wait.”

Her smile widens and she beams at you, “Great! I can’t wait to see you there!” She walks past you both to carry on her way and the sway of her hips as she walks leaves you stunned.

“Well, would you look at that” Neteyam says side-eyeing you playfully.

…

Is it possible to die of nerves? Because if it is, you’re pretty sure that you’re due to drop any second now. The music is loud and there are so many people. Your tail hasn’t stopped thumping against your thigh since you got here. Standing at the edge of the crowd nervously clutching your drink is already overwhelming enough without getting into the mix.

Neteyam suddenly appears from between the crowd of people and comes over to you very out of breath from dancing. You silently offer him your drink which he happily takes a swig of.

“Not joining the festivities?” he asks.

“Look at her, Teyam! She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. How am I possibly supposed to focus long enough to hold an actual conversation with her?” Your tail tapping seems to start tapping double time.

“Oh, Great Mother, this is ridiculous. Watch. You’ll thank me later. Tsireya!” he calls out to her over the swarm of people. Your eyes almost bulge out of your head from how you’re looking at him. “Tey, what are you doing?” you whisper shout to him, but he ignores you and continues to wave Tsireya over. He catches her attention and she makes her way over to the two of you. Your eyes dart around anxiously as she approaches.

“She’s nervous about dancing by herself, care to give her a hand?” Neteyam says to her over the music. Tsireya’s smile almost splits her face in half when she grabs you by the wrist and starts to drag you into the crowd. Your head swivels back and forth between Tsireya and Neteyam in a panic. You silently mouth to him ‘asshole’ and he offers you a simple thumbs up in return.

When Tsireya has you fully immersed in the crowd, she holds both of your hands in hers and starts to help you move to the music.

“Come on, dance with me!” Her hips sway and her arms flow around her and you can’t help but think how bewitching she looks right now. Slowly, and somewhat clumsily, you start to move to the music and follow her moves. She giggles and does a little clap for you showing how happy she is. She lets go of your hands and just dances on her own. She turns and presses her back against your chest while moving her hips on yours. Your ears stand straight up and you look back at Neteyam wide eyed. He gives you two thumbs up and mouths ‘hold her’ to you. It feels like your hands are trembling as you move them, but you tentatively rest them on her hips and she places her hands over yours.

Tsireya rests her head back onto your shoulder and she turns her face to you. You know that she has to notice the purple color starting to stain your face with her being so close right now. A gentle smirk spreads on her face and she presses a single kiss to your cheek. The light purple coloring your face deepens to a dark violet and you go stiff as a board. Tsireya giggles at you and turns in your hold to face you. She leans in and whispers in your ear, “Would you like to go somewhere with me?”

You mindlessly nod your head at her and she giddily takes your hand again to lead you off somewhere. As you’re leaving the crowd, you give one last look to Neteyam who was now joined by Ao’nung. You can see the two of them talking and Neteyam points in your direction which Ao’nung follows with his eyes. They share a laugh and Ao’nung throws his arm over Neteyam’s shoulders before the two of them wave you off.

Your heart feels like it’s in your stomach, but if it means getting alone time with Tsireya, then you would gladly go wherever she led you.

Taglist: @tallulah477 @eywaite @stickyexpertbailiffjudge @quicktosimp @tumblingdevils @teyamshuman @rivatar @frogletscribe @witchsprit @luvv4j4ybe11 @hope-di-angelo

@neteyams-wh0re @itchaboi-itchyboy @pandoraslxna @neteyamsyawntu @teyamsatan @sulieykte @xylianasblog @justcaptiannoodles

#avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar fic #awow #avatar smut #tsireya x reader #aged up tsireya #tsireya fanfiction #tsireya #awow smut #romancingpandora2024

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angry-trashcan · 6 months

Text

Peony

Chapter thirteen of Braided Lilac

1.9K WC

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse, mentions of murder, mentions of death. Reader uses they/them pronouns. Let me know if missed anything.

(First) (Read on AO3) (Hair Holds Memories)

Time pushed the inn’s door open, motioning for you to walk in first. You were crowded quickly. Too many hands grabbing you to look you over. Small arms wrapped around your waist and held you close. Small sobs shook Wind’s body as you put a gentle hand to the top of his messy curls. Warriors carefully pulled your face up to meet his eyes. You watched them trace every part of your face before they landed on your hair.

A shaky hand reached out to run his fingers through it. “What happened?” His voice was nearly inaudible.

You smiled softly to him, taking his hand in yours and lowering it. “I’m quite tired. I think I’ll go to bed for a while.” Without even looking to Legend or Hyrule, you continued. “Is the room open?”

Legend swallowed, “Yeah, it is, Squirrel.” You nodded and began to push through the group towards the stairs. Your eyes met Sage’s for only a moment. He pushed off of the banister before ascending the stairs before you.

You followed him up the steps and down the long hallway until he stopped right in front of your room. It was now his turn to look you over, though he kept his distance. “What happened?”

“I cut my hair. I know it needs some-”

“No.” He hissed. “You know what I’m talking about, Y/N.”

You crossed your arms, shuffling your feet into place. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Well you fucking need to.” He leaned against the wall, rubbing his face with his hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at ya.” He traced the wooden floor over and over again. The silence was loud.

Too loud.

His double earrings rattled against each other as he shook his head. “I have a wife, ya know.”

The shock must have been clear on your face if his laugh was anything to go off of. “Yeah, she uh…” He smiled now. “She’s gonna kill me when I get back. Not only did I leave for a surprise hunting trip without telling her, but I got basically kidnapped and sent out on another mission. I promised her I was done.”

“Sage-”

“Link. I only told you that name because it’s my title. I’m tired of being the fucking hero.”

You nodded, watching his face carefully. “You’re a good friend, Link.”

His face fell. “You are too.”

A smile crept across your face. “What’s she like? Your wife.”

He turned his head to face you, his eyes running over every inch of her face for a long moment. He shook his head, chuckling. “The complete and total opposite of you.”

You laughed now, a loud hard laugh. Your hand held onto your chest as the other fell to your knees. He watched, his own laughter coming to him as he watched you. “What’s so damn funny?

You straightened up, still trying to collect yourself from the laughing fit. “She sounds wonderful.”

He scoffed, “You got wonderful from that?”

You wiped a tear from your cheek before you finished explaining. “Anything I am not is wonderful.”

Sage’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean by that?”

You smiled, taking a step forward to reach him. You leaned into his side, pressing your lips to his cheek. “Goodnight, Sage. I’m going to get some rest.” You opened the door to your room and pulled it closed behind you before he could say another word.

<><><><><><><><><>

Your rest was interrupted by a knock on the door. You ignored it the first time, hoping it was just a play of a dream. The second round of knocks pulled a groan from you. “Come in.”

The light trailed in from the opening door, lighting up the path to the bed you laid in. “Hey, sunshine. How are you feeling?”

You groaned again, rolling over into the bed and cuddling up further into the blankets. “I’m sleepy.”

Warriors’ weight pushed the bed next to your head down. “I can tell.” His hand ran over your head, collecting your hair in his fingers and then letting it fall. The silence stayed between you two for a long moment.

“Does it look bad?”

He laughed softly, “You could never look bad, my dear.”

You hummed in response, pushing your face into his thigh. “Can I sleep some more?”

“If you would like to once we are finished speaking then you may.”

You looked up at him now, eyebrows furrowed. “Are you referring to what happened during the night?” He shook his head, motioning for you to put your head in his lap. You did as he asked, laying sideways across the bed with your head over his thighs. “What is it then?”

One of his hands ran over your cheek softly, fingers barley grazing the skin. “You received a letter this morning. We have not read it, do not worry. But it does say it is from Jayco.”

You sat up suddenly. “Where is it?! What does it say?!” He shushed you, putting his hands on your shoulders and slowly pulling you back down.

“I have it. Let me read it for you.” You pulled against his hands.

“Let me sit up.” He let you go. Instead, opting to open his arms for you. You quickly took your place in his lap, your back to his chest.

“Alright, here it is.” He pulled the letter from his pocket, letting you take it from his hand. Your fingers traced over both your name and your brothers, recognizing the scratchy penmanship in a moment. Your hands ripped the seal on it, unfolding the paper. Your eyes trailed over the words, searching for meaning in them. Warrior’s steadied your hands with his own before he began reading it over your shoulder.

“Y/N, things have gotten worse. Much worse. It will be a pain for me to send this letter to you. I can only hope it finds you.

“I want to clarify that mom, gramma and I are all fine. It is you that we worry for. The searches have turned to you now. To put it simply, you are wanted in association to murder.”

Every muscle in you turned rigid. Warriors paused his reading. “Finish it.”

“Y/N-”

“Finish it!”

He took a shaky breath, looking back at the letter.

“I encourage you to stay away. All of you. Aldric’s family is out for blood. They've searched our house three times looking for you or the others. I know they will keep you safe if you return. But please… don’t.

“Stay safe.

-Jayco”

A hiccup shook you. “Y/n, I promise you we will figure this out. It must be some kind of misunderstanding.”

“It’s not, Wars.” Your hands covered your face as you pulled your knees to your chest. “It’s true. They killed him.”

Warriors took a deep breath, wrapping his arms around your middle. “Who?”

You sniffled a laugh, “Take a wild guess.”

All was quiet besides your sobs for a long moment. “Those bastards.”

Before you could stop him, he had sat you on the bed and gotten to the door. “Warriors- Link!” Tears were long forgotten as you chased him from the room. Your bare feet were cold on the wooden floor. You called his name again when he threw the door open to another room down the hall. A loud noise echoed down the long hallway.

You called out to him once more as you entered the room behind him. The words fell short from you lips at the scene playing out in front of you. Warriors had Time pinned to the wall, one hand on his shirt and a forearm to his neck. An argument ragged on between them.

You took a few steps towards them, gripping onto Warriors’ elbow. “Link! Stop this!”

He only pushed Time harder into the wall, a small cough leaving the taller man. Blood dripped from his lip to his chin.

“You bastard! You gave the go ahead, didn’t you?!”

“What are you on about now, Captain?!”

“Aldric! You know exactly what I’m on about!

“What the hell is going on in here?!” Four called out from behind you. In a moment, his arms were in yours, pulling you away from the other men. “Vet! Help me out here!”

“What is this?” All eyes went to Legend in the doorway. A half-crumpled paper in his hand had his own attention. “Is this… fuck.”

Your eyes filled with tears quickly again. “Look what you have done.”

“Y/N-”

“ Look what you all have done! ” Your outburst startled Four enough for you to pull away from him. “I’m going back to the room. Knock when we are leaving, but do not come in.” You tore the letter from Legend’s hands on your way out the door. It wasn’t hard to drown out the yelling as you closed the door to your room.

A knock came a few hours later. And like you asked, they did not come in.

You pulled your boots on and threw your bag over your shoulder. The hallway was empty, all the doors open. From the top of the stairs, you could make out some idle conversation.

“You have everything?”

“Yeah, just double checking.”

“Here, let me help you tighten it.”

“I don’t know what happened to it. Must of lost it a while back and just ain’t never noticed.”

“Weird.”

“Sailor, get down from there. We are going to be leaving soon.”

It grew quiet when the last step creaked under your weight. You looked across the large main room to the ten sets of eyes on you. “Are we ready? Where are we headed?” The question was directed at Time, but it was Wild who closed the distance with you. He helped you down the last step before explaining, “Rancher went and checked in with his Zelda early this morning. There’s been no reports of anything new. So, since we have no idea why we are here, we are going back to Ordon.” His hand intertwined with yours as you both turned to the rest of the group.

They all quickly gathered their things. Wild and yourself were the last out the door, followed only by Sage. The day was winding down, the streets mostly empty. Once a bit of a ways away from the inn, Sage approached your opposite side from Wild.

“You forgot something.” His extended hand held your bow. Pulling your hand from Wild’s, you took it with both hands, holding it to your chest.

“Thank you, Sage- Link. ”

He nodded, a small smile dancing across his features. You didn’t notice when the two shared a look and nod of understanding behind you. They helped you put the bow onto your back before your hand slipped back into Wild’s.

It was the first step you took out of Castle Town that the grass disappeared underneath you. The ground you landed on was soft. Flowers dancing around in the shine of the morning dew.

The smell of magnolia blossoms and honeysuckles overtook you.

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dreadsuitsamus · 1 year

Note

I have a request! Remember the scene in the movie where Paragus uses the shock collar on Broly? Well, can I request a short one shot where he uses the collar, & the reader comforts Broly when the two are alone? Maybe a timeskip to his battle with Goku, where he sees the reader & calms down upon remembering the kindness she showed him? Please??

author's note: i hope you've been enjoying these! i assume you're the same anon since my only requests have been broly lol i ended up feeling very lovey for broly as i wrote this, as you'll find out when you read! i'm not sorry for being a romantic sometimes :p i created a bit of a new species in this and may expand on it in the future! i didn't expand on it very much so i apologize! i also have changed the prompt just a tad, as far as the timing goes when Broly calms down. also i'm very tired but wanted to write this story so if things don't make sense i am very sorry

pairing: broly x fem!reader

warnings: parental abuse, shock torture (as it is in canon)

Solace | Broly x Reader |

Broly sits by himself in an empty room, having managed to get away from his father and his new acquaintances. His father had shocked him again, but he couldn't understand why his father couldn't see what that awful man was trying to do. Broly had never voiced it to Paragus, he hardly ever even wanted to think of it in his own mind, but he hated how his father used that collar on him, and in his heart he harbored those deep feelings of hatred.

He looks up when the door to the room opens, the light flicking on. He immediately looks away from the person at the door, but even in his sadness from being electrocuted again, he takes note of the attractiveness of the stranger.

"This is new." You murmur and step in, setting your chestplate down. "Ah... You're the guy from the cafeteria, right?"

"My name is Broly." He murmurs softly. "Is... This your room?"

"Mhm." You slip off your boots. "You can hide out here though. After what the old guy did, I don't blame you for finding a quiet place to yourself."

Broly's lips quirk to the side. He's not sure what to make of you. You seem to... Be on his side and not agree with his father's actions. Cheelai had also seemed to feel that way. Perhaps... His father was the one in the wrong?

It felt like a sin to think of his father like that.

"Thank you very much." He says after a beat, remembering to mind his manners on his own, for once.

"Don't mention it." You're in your blue under-armor now as you sit at your small round table with him. "You're the only company I've ever had in here."

"How come?" As far as Broly is concerned, you're kind and beautiful, and he would visit you all the time if he were someone living on this ship.

You chuckle to yourself, tapping your nails absentmindedly on the mahogany table. "Because I hate everyone on this damn ship."

"Oh." Broly frowns.

"Not to trauma-dump, but I was sold about ten years ago by my own father and haven't been home since."

"Your father? He... Sold you?"

"Mhm. I didn't even know you could sell a thirty-year-old that doesn't live with you, but he did it anyway."

"I'm sorry he did that." Broly's brows come together in a deep frown.

You laugh a little, and even with his lack of social interaction, Broly knows it's not because you find anything humorous. "It was that or be pillaged by the pirates that invaded us. They were eventually killed by Frieza and that's how I ended up working under him. I only wish to go home."

"... My father told me about my species growing up. He says we're a proud race of warriors."

You nod your head. "What are you?"

"A Saiyan."

Your eyes widen. "Wow. I can't believe there's more of you besides Goku and Vegeta."

Broly looks down at the table. "My father and I were told about... that... when we were discovered..."

"Ah, man... I can't say much about the Saiyans since I was so young when Frieza blew up Planet Vegeta, but I'm sure you would've been a good fit. You look every bit a warrior."

"Really?" He looks into your eyes.

"Sure. Big, tall, with muscles that could break anyone in two... You don't got the scary, pillaging personality though." You wink. "So as far as I can tell... You're a pretty perfect guy."

Broly's cheeks heat up and he could never explain why, but his eyes dart to your chest for just a split second, and you can see just a bit of red on his tanned cheeks. You laugh softly and lean forward a little. "Now that I think about it, have you ever seen a woman until today?"

"I... N-No." Broly mumbles, looking away.

"Hmm. You're an interesting fella, Broly."

"Thank... You?" He's really not sure if that's a good or bad thing, so he figures that erring on the side of using his manners will be best.

"Tell me about you. What's that green pelt you're wearing?"

Broly quietly launches into the story of Ba, of how he was his only friend and how his father ruined it for him. In fact, every story he tells seems to end with Paragus somehow destroying happiness for Broly. At forty-one years of age, it doesn't sound to you like he's ever had one day to enjoy life. And with how horrible that planet he was stuck on was, you weren't surprised. He'd been attacked every day!

Your heart feels a pang of sadness at his story. Oh how you wish to bathe him in the love of your home planet...

You smile a little and stand up, heading to your small chest of drawers and pulling out a small pendant. "I doubt you're gonna be on the ship long, I may not even see you again, so... Here. To remember me." You bring it to him, setting the small thing onto his large palm.

Broly looks up at you for just a few seconds, taking in your smile and sparkling eyes and wondering how someone could be so charming, before looking at what you've gifted to him. It's a small, golden, diamond-shaped pendant on a golden chain, an engraving in the center of what looked like an elegant flower.

Broly rubs his thumb over it. "It's beautiful."

"Thank you. The flower is the one of my people. It can only be found on my planet. I'm sure if I could ever go back home that they'd be everywhere, just waiting to be picked and used for decoration, cooking, medicine..." You look out the window, Broly studying how wistful you look. He wonders what it's like to have a home worth missing, that wasn't uninhabitable and didn't attempt to kill him every day.

Broly holds the pendant back out to you, but you gently close his fist around it and push it to his chest. "Keep it. I'll always have home with me in my memories. And my body." You chuckle softly and pull your undersuit down enough to show him a tattoo at your collarbone of the same flower. "The zantedeschia stays with me always."

Broly reaches his hand out, and you allow him to touch your tattoo. He gently traces the elegant, black outline. "You're warm." He mumbles.

"So are you." You murmur, looking into Broly's curious eyes as he traces the zantedeschia tattoo. "So is Albomaculata."

"Is that your home?"

You nod, putting your hand on top of his. "We're a beautiful species. Home is so lovely, so nurturing, so gentle and romantic and different from anywhere else... We're not fighters." You mutter. "I suppose we're the opposite of Saiyans. We're lovers."

"Saiyans love too." Broly counters gently.

You smile and brush some hair out of his face. "Hmm... That's an interesting thought."

There's a sudden commotion outside, and you hear the voice of the old man from earlier, who you've assumed is Broly's father. You look back at Broly and swipe your finger down his nose playfully. "Guess you'd better go, huh?"

Broly scrunches his nose cutely, but does stand and gently remove his hand from your chest, instead moving it to the shock collar on him. Fear strikes in his eyes. "I.. I should."

"Goodbye, Broly. I hope we meet again."

He moves for the door, and when he turns around one last time, all he sees is your naked silhouette bathed in the light of the bathroom. He blinks slowly, committing the beauty to his memory before stepping out of the room and finding his father.

Broly's been thrust into battle sometime after he parted ways with you, and he's lost himself in his rage. His father is dead now, and it's probably all his fault. Before him is Gogeta, the fusion of the only other full-blooded Saiyans left.

You watch from the ship, scared for your friend as he faces off against the new challenger. He's losing badly, and it's looking like they'll kill him. And god dammit he doesn't deserve to die like this.

You push the two lower-ranking soldiers away from the Dragon Balls, ignoring their protests as you make your wish to the giant green dragon.

"Save Broly and send us to Albomaculata!"

You close your eyes, and within a flash, you feel yourself surrounded by the warm air of home. You open your eyes and look around for Broly, praying you weren't too late. You then see the glowing form of your new friend, his body smaller now and close to his normal size.

"Broly?" You whisper.

Broly turns with a shout, in between the beast within and his normal, gentle self. You hold your hands up and he pauses, the glowing fluctuating. You take a shaky breath and carefully ease down the undersuit, revealing your tattoo to Broly once again. "Broly... The zantedeschia stays with me always. And it can be with you too... We're on my home planet."

Broly's wide eyes look around and he realizes he's surrounded by several zantedeschia of many colors, ones he's never even seen before in his life. The planet is vibrant and the air around him is so clean and lovely it's intoxicating. He finally relaxes into his base form, falling onto the field of flowers, breathing heavily and still looking around.

"How...?"

You kneel between his legs and hug him tightly. "I made a wish. Those Dragon Balls are pretty handy... But we're here, Broly. My home." You smile, tears in your eyes. "We're safe here."

"You saved me?" Broly whispers, his hand coming to rest on your tattoo again. It's a comfort to him, your warm skin underneath his palm.

"Of course." You murmur. "You deserved so much more... I could only imagine showing you life on Albomaculata. No pain, no suffering... Just beautiful things."

"You are beautiful."

You smile at him and place a blue and white zantedeschia in his hair. He feels hazy and blinks slowly, drunk at the effects of the flowers and the air, not yet used to the romantic aura of the planet. He looks at you and smiles with hooded eyes. "The... zantedeschia is... with me?"

"Yes. And I'm with you too." You whisper, rubbing his chest and coaxing him to sleep. And when he wakes, you'll show him all of the love and life and colors he's missed out on. Your heart is already giddy at the thought of being home again and sharing it with Broly, giving him everything he's missed out on throughout his life.

#broly x reader #broly x you #dbs broly #dragon ball #dragon ball super #dragon ball z #fem!reader #requests #anonymous #fic #this went differently than expected but #i just wanna love broly up #put flowers in his hair #dress him in a toga or something and pamper him #ugh i love that soft man #also how tf do i do a line break #i added a picture cuz i didnt know what to do

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myreia · 6 months

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wip (not) wednesday

Tagged by @thevikingwoman, thank you! 💖 Tagging @bearlytolerant @solverne-02 @a-shakespearean-in-paris @hylfystt @birues @lilas @galadae @impossible-rat-babies @coldshrugs @roguelioness

This is part of Chapter 7 of a FFXIV longfic I've been working on for a while and I am once again throwing a chunk down because I'm allergic to excerpting. Spoilers for some Heavensward stuff. Also warning for some spiciness/mature content below the cut. Aureia's a mess and that's her prerogative. 😌

“There are many things I have done in my life that I am not proud of,” he says. “This one is rather high in that count.”

“Then maybe you’ve learned something from it.”

“Harsh words there, Aureia darling—”

She makes a face. If he was hoping the epithet would smooth things over, he thought wrong. “Do me a favour and never call me that again,” she says bluntly.

He nods, raising his hands in surrender, and together they press onward in silence. They have lost sight of the procession entirely, having watched it disappear into the mists some time ago. Ishgard’s streets are eerily quiet, absent of evening wanderers. They must be bundled up safely in their homes, waiting for the freezing rain to fall.

“You know you were under no requirement to accompany me, yes?” Thancred says after a moment. “You were well within your right to decline—”

“I should thank you for it,” Aureia interrupts. “Aymeric has duties to attend to and I certainly wasn’t going to stay there with Edmont eyeing me up.”

He snorts, amused. “Not caring for the good count these days, I see?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know—”

He smiles.

“—it’s all so very irritating. Ishgardian politics don’t so much as go over my head as they annoy me. It’s not that I don’t appreciate Edmont for everything he’s done, it’s that I feel he is too nosy and controlling for his own good. Look at his sons.”

“Perhaps I should not. Emmanellain and I do not share a charming history after all.”

She rolls her eyes. “What happened to Emmanellain was not his fault, but the damn pressure of living up to expectations set by a gifted brother. He has none of Haurchefant’s training or skill, and yet is expected to behave just like him. And when he inevitably fails to fulfill those demands, his father turns his eye to other, more skilled individuals.”

“Like yourself?”

“Like Aymeric.”

“Ah. Of course. Who could not fall under the mesmerizing charm of the Lord Commander.”

Aureia scowls. For a moment they were almost speaking like friends again. Almost.

They turn down a narrow street, the cobblestones slick with mist and melting snow. The rough walls of the tenements encroach on them, the rows of high windows shuttered against the dark and cold. The only light spills from lanterns that sway from the iron arches and spiked fences lining the alleyway.

“And what of him?” she spits.

“I couldn’t help but notice you and he seem quite close,” he retorts. “Even closer than you were before my departure.”

“And? I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but you missed some developments since you’ve been gone, but we ended a war, Thancred. For good. That was reason enough for celebration—”

“So that is what you call it. And here I was wonder why I could smell wine on your breath.”

“We had dinner tonight. Is that a crime in your eyes now?”

“Nothing of the sort. I do hope you enjoy your celebrations, Aureia. Gods know you deserve all the happiness he can afford you.”

She stops short, anger burning in her chest. “Happiness?” she snarls, grabbing him by the arm. “What makes you think I’m happy with this? With any of this?”

Thancred pulls free from her grasp and rounds on her, his face inches from hers. “You’re the Warrior of Light,” he says. “Defender of Eorzea and a beacon of hope. Blessed by Hydaelyn and beloved by all. What possible reason could you have not to be?”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Aye, fuck me.”

She raises her chin, staring him down, and takes a step into him, her heart racing. The cobblestones are slick beneath her boots. Water drips from the gutters. The lanterns creak in the faint wind. Their breath mists in the air, rising together before vanishing into nothingness.

Somewhere far away, a distant shuttered window slams shut, the sound of its passage echoing through the neighbourhood.

They crash together in a fury. Aureia’s mouth presses against his in an open and furious kiss, her hands clutching at him as she pulls him to her. He grunts, his teeth scraping against her lower lip as he kisses her in return. She hisses his name, the syllables lost in her urgency, the heat of his lips devouring hers and her tongue in his mouth chasing away the cold. His fingers grasp fistfuls of her coat and he pushes her backwards against the alley wall.

Her breath hitches from the force and she pulls him closer, urging him on. His kiss leaves her numb, shaking, exhilarated—somehow too much and not enough all at once. She doesn’t mind the roughness. She wants it. Whether this is desire or attraction or some gods damned way to find relief, she doesn’t care. She doesn’t know what it is.

It doesn’t matter. Not here, in this forgotten alleyway. Not with him.

The person who knows her the best.

The person she thought she knew the best.

Aureia kisses him hard, her hands clasped around the back of his neck. He grunts, murmuring her name, the weight of his body heavy against hers as he presses her into the wall. His mouth abandons hers, leaving her cold and gasping for breath, only to close in on that soft, sweet spot beneath her ear. She inhales sharply, heat coiling deep within her, the urge to move overtaking her. Her hips move, grinding against him, an excited shiver running down her spine at the ragged sounds she draws out of him.

Thancred growls, the sound rumbling in her ear. His kisses consume her, his mouth roaming to the hollow of her throat. He slides hand beneath her coat, fingers tangling in her tunic, and yanks at the buttons. She moans at the touch and fiddles with the tie in his hair, loosening it with stiff fingers. He kisses her in response, his mouth hard on hers as he wrenches her neckline open and pulls the thin fabric of her bandeau down. Her skin prickles in the cold air, frozen by the chill yet warmed by the heat of his hand on her breast.

She curses, her body shaking, his name lost on her tongue. She pulls the tie free and drops it, raking her hands through his hair as she chases his kiss with hers. He groans, breathless, his hips moving against hers as he pushes her harder against the wall. Her fingers find the ends of his stupid bandana, the one he insists on wearing as an eyepatch for some gods damned reason he never cared to explain. She pulls it free and drops it to the ground.

Thancred slows, his body going stiff. He still pushes her into the wall, his hand is still on her breast, but otherwise he has frozen. Aureia draws back, her breath ghosting across his cheek, and meets his eyes.

One hazel. The other silver. And his look of dawning horror shatters her to the bone.

It isn’t until now that she finally understand what they have done. What they were about to do. Lost in whatever this unspoken thing lies between them, eating away at the remains of their friendship until there is nothing left.

“Aur,” he croaks. “I—”

Her eyes narrow. “No.”

He steps back immediately, the back of his hand pressed to his mouth. His loose hair falls across his shoulders as he stares determinedly at the ground, waiting for her to cover herself. She grimaces, heat flushing her cheeks, and she fixes her bandeau and closes her buttons.

Thancred coughs, clearing his throat, and awkwardly picks up the discarded patch from the ground. Limp, stained, soaked in rainwater. “I…” he begins.

“This was a mistake,” she says firmly. “We can agree on that, yes?”

He looks away. “Would you rather hear the answer you want or the answer that’s true?”

She finishes adjusting her clothing. “Are they not the same thing?” she retorts, folding her arms.

He closes his eyes. “Why must you be like this?” he whispers. There is no love, no hate, no feeling in his voice. Only numb exhaustion. “Very well. I cannot… I will not agree.”

“Don’t be an ass—”

“I told you I have made many mistakes in my life. Do not ask me to add you to that list.”

#HW patch era Aur is killing me slowly #this love triangle is making me feral do not send help #ffxiv #writing tag #aureia malathar #personal nonsense

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woltourney · 1 year

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ROUND 2 / SIDE B / POLL 6

Iris Opranta (@irisopranta) v. Lopu Rhaavuna (@mages-ballad)

Iris Opranta:

q. What is your WoL name and pronouns? a. Iris Opranta (She/her)

q. What is your WoL's species? a. Elezen

q. What is your WoL's class? Or classes? a. Dragoon/Astrologian/Weaver

q. What data centre/server are you on, if you want people to find you? a. Primal/Leviathan

q. Tell us a bit about your WoL! a. "Iris Opranta, Pleased to meet you. I am a seamstress turn adventurer when fate had plans to make me the Warrior of Light. While I never really wanted to go down this path in life, it did give her a lot of opportunities that I never had while living in Gridania. Despite all the hand I was dealt I'm still quite optimistic. In my free time, I do a lot of needlework. Also love having guess over for tea. I will be happy to have you over for tea anytime to share any stories of my adventures."

q. Why should YOU win? (Answer IC!) a. "Why should I win? Well I am capable of a great many things. I fell dragons and ended the Dragonsong War, liberated Ala Mhingo, even saved the star from the final days. I did this while being completely fabulous. If I learn anything from Gobert Manderville, you can be truly powerful even though you are a craftsperson. If nothing else I can stitch up my opponents of any hole I put through them."

Lopu Rhaavuna:

q. What is your WoL name and pronouns? a. Lopu Rhaavuna, she/her

q. What is your WoL's species? a. Keeper of the Moon Miqo'te

q. What is your WoL's class? Or classes? a. IC-ly her primary jobs are Bard and Dancer. Secondary to that, Sage and Reaper. (Note from submitter: CUL and BOT)

q. What data centre/server are you on, if you want people to find you? a. Mateus [Crystal]

q. Tell us a bit about your WoL! a. I took inspiration for Lopu's character and story from the mahou shoujo genre, with the core elements being that a seemingly-average girl discovers she actually has the capability for magical powers, and uses those to help spread hope and save others. Love is a major theme for Lopu, and its what gives her the strength and motivation to do what she does. Lopu grew up in Gridania, where she left and became the Warrior of Light at age 25. She's always had a deep feeling of wanderlust within her, and the events of the MSQ are what kickstart her into being able to get out and see the world. She's lived her life knowing there had to eventually be more out there for her, and her assumptions are proven right as she takes up the title of the WoL and makes herself known. She's no doubt had her ups and downs, but never once has she regret her journey. Others may call her a hero; but even after all this time she still considers herself just an adventurer that likes to help people. In her free time, Lopu has a few hobbies she likes to indulge in! She's very big on cooking and sharing the food she makes, gardening and growing her own ingredients, hunting, training, running Treasure Maps, and of course hanging out with the Scions. Outside of saving the universe, she's a very sweet and humble woman.

q. Why should YOU win? (Answer IC!) a. "Ah? Um…" Lopu takes a lock of her thick hair to twirl around and play with while she ponders the question. "I think I should win because… It would make me really happy if I did?" She laughs a little, giving a flash of fangs. "Truthfully, I can't really think of a good reason! I guess there is the fact I saved the universe, but I wouldn't want people to feel obliged to put me on a pedestal just for that." "Maybe… If I win, I'll bake a huge celebratory cake to share with everyone! That works, right? People tend to be more motivated to vote if there's food involved, yes?"

q. Anything else you wanna add? a. AS HER CREATOR I SAY VOTE FOR LOPU BECAUSE SHE IS SO CUTE AND HUGGABLE AND SILLYGIRL-CORE AND HAS THICK THIGHS AND I LIKE HER A LOT AND ALSO IF SHE WINS I WILL ACTUALLY DO A GPOSE OF HER AND THE CAKE AND EVERYONE CAN HAVE SOME!!!!! VOTE FOR LOPU #LOPUSWEEP #LOPUSWEEP #LOPUSWEEP #LOPUSWEEP #LOPUSWEEP

#💎 shout #💎 round two

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semper-legens · 7 months

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135. Tempted, by PC and Kristin Cast

Owned: No, library Page count: 319 My summary: Zoey Redbird's life is going from bad to worse. Soul-bonded to the evil Kalona, Warrior-bonded to Stark, and Imprinted to Heath, her love life has imploded in her face. And her best friend is keeping secrets from her. One of the Raven Mockers is alive, and in her base. But Zoey needs to stop Kalona from taking his place as 'Erebus' alongside Neferet as 'Nyx Incarnate'. And she has no idea how... My rating: 0/5 My commentary:

Ah, House of Night. I'm still determined to not let this series break me, but it's trying very, very hard to make that happen. Each book just sinks a little bit lower into the pits of despair in which hope goes to die. Hope for good storytelling and characterisation, that is. This book continues to not really be about vampires - well, Stevie Rae has more vampire traits, but apart from Zoe drinking a bit of Heath's blood every so often you could be excused for not remembering that this is, in fact, a vampire thing. It's pretty terrible, and I am going to waffle about it under the cut.

First of all, for about the first half of this book, nothing happens. Characters bitch at each other. Zoe isn't dead. Boyfriend drama. Nothing of consequence, really, no tension. I know I've said this about the last book, and probably literally every book before, but it bears repeating. Cast has no idea what pacing is. The first half to two thirds of every House of Night book are the characters meandering around not really doing anything, until you hit the climax and suddenly it's all go. There's not a lot of narrative tension, and not really much that's gripping. And things go round in circles a lot. Yes, Stevie Rae, you feel bad for keeping secrets. Yes, Zoe, you're the centre of the universe. Oh, and this is a small thing, but for the first time we're out of Zoe's strict first-person narrative voice. We've got a series of third person limited sections from other characters, like Heath and Stark and Stevie Rae and such. Not bad in and of itself, but the chapter breaks will insist on naming the characters before their section, when it's perfectly clear in the prose who's talking. Not a major thing, it just irked me, especially as Cast actually did an adequate job distinguishing character voices. I mean, they're all annoying-ass teenagers, but that's in character for this lot.

Zoe continues to flirt with the Worst Romantic Fiction Trope Of All Time. Say it with me, kids - "I can save him!" Sure, Kalona's a rapist and murderer who has invaded Zoe's home to fight and slaughter her people. Sure, he's allied with the woman who wants to lead all the vamps into a giant war against everyone. Sure, he's definitely playing Zoe by only speaking in very selective truths about his past and who he is. But there's a heart of gold underneath! I can change him, I swear! Ugh. Yes, despite being a monster, Kalona is worth saving because Zoe wants to bang him - was predestined to want to bang him, even. In the hands of a more skilful author, this could have been an exploration of soulmate tropes, and what happens when your soulmate is terrible. But no. Forbidden love. Because it's soooooo hot.

And then there's the stupid birdman. Stevie Rae rescues a Raven Mocker who turns out to be Kalona's favourite son. His name is Rephaim. Now, if you're like me, you will look at that name and frown. It looks far more like the name of a Biblical angel than anything relating to the Cherokee people. And you would be half right! The Rephaim are from the Bible, and are either ghosts of the dead or a race of giants, depending on where you're reading. Nothing to do with the, I cannot stress this enough, real stories of Raven Mockers in real Cherokee belief. I keep thinking Cast has found the absolute depths of disregard for Cherokee people, and yet she sinks even lower. In addition, there seems to be some sort of 'all myths are true' thing going on with Kalona - turns out he's not actually Cherokee originally, he was Nyx's warrior and got cast down for loving her too much, then wound up becoming a Big Evil Dude among the Cherokee. So, once again, this supposedly Cherokee figure isn't actually that Cherokee. This compounds with the revalation that Zoe is definitely the reincarnation of A-ya, the woman made by the Ghigau Women to trap Kalona. (Not only is she Special and Perfect to Nyx, she's also Significant to the Cherokee.) But again, Zoe's Cherokee heritage is mishandled. Zoe is consistently portrayed as being pretty pale, and doesn't seem to have any meaningful connection to Cherokee culture, largely because Cast seemingly didn't care to do the research. It's both lazy and disrespectful.

And finally, my constant complaint about this series. All of these characters are terrible. The Twins continue to have no personality outside shopping, and at one point refer to Aphrodite as 'Aphrodykey', which isn't called out as being homophobic despite Zoey's whole 'we love and support the gays' thing. Aphrodite still refuses to grow an interest that isn't being a rich bitch and liking sex. Jack is still Emotional and Gay. Damien's personality boils down to acting like vocab words a ten year old knows are obscure. Stark gets the new trait of Likes To Read, and Zoey's immediately acting like he's a huge nerd for it and that it's amazing that he reads, despite the fact that he only reads high school English class books and nothing individual. Zoey herself is back down to one boyfriend, breaking up with Erik, who immediately goes and gets with another girl out of spite, because you are either with or against Zoey. Stevie Rae gets feelings for Rephaim for no real reason despite how dangerous he is and almost dies because of it. I'm just not interested in the lives of any of these characters. They're all too callous or annoying or both for me to feel any investment. Hopefully things go back to being entertainingly bad soon.

Next, the other series I'm rereading - we're back to CHERUB.

#Tempted #PC Cast #Kristin Cast #book blog #book blogger #1

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walking-metaphor · 2 years

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Sometimes the desire of seeking a lover consumes me and I find myself being out of control- declaring a confession first in a most inconvenient time, setting high hopes towards a potential despite knowing their uncertainties, pressing trust towards their skin without scrutinizing what kind of skeletons they’re hiding and lastly, giving all of me which will soon resort to self loathing especially when a romance revolutionized into regrets. Connecting to someone and being able to exchange affection always burst me into flames, exploring their notions, their happiness, their dreams-all about them is also all about love. Molding attraction through free will and the possibility that they’re the metaphors I have been longing to spend emptiness, to laugh and to build a different perspective together, these are the reasons why I take risk even after knowing that I end up alone in a void- crying my hearts out and blaming myself. The thought of giving and receiving love-its depths, its mystery and how it is both favorable and unfavorable circumstance gave me the courage to keep on gambling towards it, such a shame that ever since the first round, I didn’t win-always the hopeless romantic rejected loser who writes poetry for people who can’t even recite the same sentences on my lips.

I am not scared of love despite the impairment it bring towards me. Even after countless unrequited inclination and failed relationships,I never slip away into believing that there is someone for me, someone that will resonate the affection with justice and equality, but who? Some folks told me to keep on waiting and halt the seeking for the right one will arrive unexpectedly. But in this time and age, where everybody is falling in love, sometimes I wonder if the existence of my red string is true or maybe it is just a fiction that I made myself for I romanticized almost everyday and maybe I am just too attached with its idea for I wrote a lot about love, maybe my poetic sense acting up. I don’t know but the only truth I am certain is that i love genuinely, if I love someone it is not conditional, I love them with all the love I know and with all the love I could. Sadly, I always attract complicated and dangerous people. I declared my alliance to them with all the sincerity but all I received back from them are lies, lies continues lies, sick patterns and manipulation, well of course at first I’m too innocent to realize all of these and mistaken it as love, I’m such and idiot to be honest.

Its terrible and sometimes I abhor involving myself too much on love. There are times that I just want to become the greater evil-the one who inflict pain towards a mortal for I am too exhausted with me always losing myself.

Maybe love, both giving and receiving is not for me. At this moment, all I set myself into is to stay away from it, to build my walls as great as the sun, to protect myself from anyone who are plotting a scheme to evade my safe haven. I don’t want to believe anymore, I don’t want to come across another being that looks so good yet will stab me in the back at the end. Sweet talker, lovely eyes, pretty smiles and words that sounds authentic-such a scammer and fool of me to take them as comrade without bringing them in a standstill, if this is war and I’m the general, I already made my warriors killed and the king dethroned, all because of me not thinking enough, just throwing myself out into a cabin without enough food for the wolves. I think I caused my own pain , its my fault. But I cant blame myself they made me believe by their tricks ,their voice that calms my rage, them listening to me, them validating me and them making me feel that I matter, that I exist-as someone who is always a background character,the thought of being seen is a significant event in my life. But all of those is just only for show to get me, to imprison me to cause havoc on my insides.

I want to keep myself lock away from anyone now, I don’t want to entertain, to welcome and to connect. I am too tired and sick of it. Maybe I must change myself too, to sew the wounds, to heal to grow and to become the best, I think I have to love me first, loving myself as much as before.

But if ever, if there is someone out there, just one woman, someone worth enough , for the last time, maybe I’ll jump again.

-excerpt from the risks that hurt the most: love

#poetry #writers on tumblr #prose #filipino writers on tumblr #literature #love #thoughts #filipino literature #filipino poetry #philippine literature #wlw community #wlw post #self love #spilled poem #spilled words #spilled emotions #spilled ink #spilled heart

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donaldsonfarms · 9 months

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A saga of our struggles: Our Quest Amidst Chaos

Friends and Enemies! Lend us your ears! Gather 'round and let us spin you a tale of epic proportions!

Picture this: two lone warriors, dressed in Hospice-shop hand-me-downs, nails gritty with the grease of a thousand vehicles, hands scarred from endless new battles of resurrection of iron beasts, eyes bloodshot from the exhaust fumes and the late nights, and endless cups of double-shot coffees ('tis the only luxury we have afforded ourselves), armed with a spark (...plug?) of determination, battling the odds in a land rife with chaos and soaring tensions (holy shit! wtf is going on? #TAXIS #TAXES # TATERTOR - RIP little fella - you were a brave one). Those warriors; my friends, my foes; are none other than Craig, The Resilient and Sonnet, The Stormbringer!

Now, we've never backed down from challenges, oh no - our mottos:

"bring it on",

"is there going to be coffee?",

"we'll sleep when we're dead"

(ok, so, that hits a little close to home right now - a nod to both Hugh and Shannon - both whose recent deaths came a little too soon),

"holy fuck, were you not happy with the deal the scrapyard offered you?"

(ok - so, we successfully rebuild completely scrapped vehicles - those ones that they dredge up from the bottom of Durban harbour)

Our quest? To empower ourselves and those of us that are playing life's game in uber hard mode (those of us born with a disability - disclaimer: not all disabilities are physical or even visible - especially those dorks that park in the handicap bay at PNP without a "I am disabled" sticker - shame) and to revolutionize the auto-electrical realm. We want to buy a business and we want to offer training for new little sparkplugs - Why? because we can, we have the necessary qualifications, we have the experience, we have the drive to do this, and we have the balls (well, you know what we means - no reference to anyone's body bits) The business is a longstanding, functional, profitable and up scalable venture in the Western Cape, and it is right opposite a coffee shop (jeeshlike! how can people not see this amazing investment opportunity!!!) (We're just short of the money)

A noble cause, you say! Well, hold your horses, for this journey has been no walk in the park.

You see, dear readers, The Financial Fortresses (aka the South African banks) — declared us unworthy of their aid. Apparently, we don't quite meet their lofty requirements. But fear not, for we will stand tall! The tempestuous winds of uncertainty may blow, but we remain resolute, a beacon of hope amidst the storm.

Ah, the realm of investments, angels, venture capitalists! A treacherous terrain indeed. With tensions running high, investors shy away like startled rabbits. But let me tell you, we're not going to be daunted by such antics. Our purpose burns brighter than a thousand suns, and #wearestaying, we cannot afford to emigrate. Friends, life's necessities have become more elusive than our damned 10" socket itself. The cost-of-living skyrockets, and luxuries? Well, those are but a distant memory. We've even bid adieu to sugar—yes, sugar! (The horror!). Therefore, we are left with no option but to "BYT VAS" and dig in our 2nd hand Hospice-shop heels and create a future for those who have not been afforded the chance.

Amidst this chaotic tapestry, our mission remains clear: disabled youth, ordinary folks like you and me, fellow lovers of coffee, fellow technicians suffering the same curse as us (losing the 13 spanner, the 10 socket) yearn for a chance—a chance to prove their mettle and to thrive. It's a bumpy ride, but the path is worth every twist and turn. The dream of a vocational training centre for these brave souls ignites our heart with an indomitable fire.

So, let's rally together, like a band of knights on a noble quest! Join us, fellow coffee enthusiasts, as we break the shackles of convention and make a difference. With your support, we'll flip the script, craft our own destiny, and emerge victorious in a world that often seems like a circus of absurdity. Let's be the change, our friends, our enemies; and prove that even in the most chaotic of times, we can create a symphony of hope, resilience, and yes, we can add a sprinkle of sheer luxury. Onward, brave souls, to a future, brighter than the (ever elusive) 10 socket.

#EcoSparkAutoE

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bloodycassian · 3 years

Text

Tender - Azriel x reader - Pregnancy fic. Fem! reader. LONG!!!

Prompt - Hi! I just read most of your imagines, and i loved them! You have me as your faithful follower, I don't comment much because English is not my first language. Could you write one where az manages to perceive that reader is pregnant right in the middle of the war?

You woke to yelling. Not screaming. Not fear or pain, but battle cries that you'd grown to love. They made your blood sing in harmony with the Illyrian voices. It made your heart hammer in your chest, and your muscles tense - ready to fight. Azriel groaned beside you, curling around your waist like a vise. You managed to break free from his muscled arms. Pale light shining through the tent tinted his shadows a light gray. They wrapped around you, drawing a chill down your spine. The war cries grew louder. "Get up. It's time." You shook him, pulling on your light armor. He covered his face with his hands, and did not leave the cot. He groaned again when you pulled the blanket off his mostly naked body. He was never a morning person. Cassian rushed in when you were putting the last of your gear on, and Az froze. His grip on his pants went white knuckled. Cassian's face was pale, and before he could say anything Azriel was hurriedly pulling on the rest of his clothes. Your stomach dropped at the sight of the Warlord. "It's a diversion." You said, voice hollow. Cassian's slight nod was enough to make the breath leave you. "It's going to be fine." Azriel grunted, pulling his tunic over his head. "We just need to move the troops. Get Rhys here." He waved a hand at his brother dismissively. Cassian grabbed Az's wrist. He forced the male to look at him, to see his worried eyes. You tensed, ready to defend your mate even against Cassian's might. "Rhys is on the battlefield already. We're on our own." His voice was low, and the warning in his eyes was enough to make the hair on your arms raise. Azriel pulled away from him, slowly. He began strapping his weapons belts on, pushed his hair back and sighed. "Where do you need us?" The air was cold, and the howls of battle echoed across the hills. Azriel's shadows curled around your legs, comforting. Then they slithered their way across the valley where the battle was beginning. + You could barely raise your sword by the end of it. The mud had been the most challenging part of the entire fight. The enemy horses had done a good job of making obstacles when they fell in the mud, lame with broken ankles and necks. You wished to put them out of their misery, but there was no time. The forces seemed to come in waves. Like a test against your small unit. Few were lost from your side. The dewey grass steamed in the morning light, carrying up the reek of enemy blood with it. You wiped your face, trying to get the taste of dirt and blood out of your mouth. Sharp stinging pain seared your ribs under your arm. You hissed. Then, you felt the warmth of your own blood. You swore, and looked for a medic that wasn't tending to wounded on the ground. Some Illyrian bodies were being lifted away, high into the air for burial at their homes. You dared not take a healer away from more critically injured soldiers. You nodded grimly to the ones that you passed. They were covered in blood, and yet still gave you fierce grins when you went by. They respected you. More than any other Illyrian Female before you. It was sad, but you hoped to forge a new path for other females of Illyria. You held an arm under your side and limped your way out of the mud. The packed mess inside your boots made moving your feet hard. You couldn't wait to shower. You spotted Cassian far down the field, and watched as he raised his sword high over his head. Your stomach twisted in pity for the suffering animal under him. You looked away before you could see the lifeblood drain from the horse's neck. He sent a blessing to the Mother for the animal, and continued on to the next suffering soul that would meet its end via his blade. + You hadn't seen her in a long while. Too long for a friend, but she gave you that same look she always did when she saw you hobbling up to her for help. Jeva was your favorite healer, and one you knew could keep a secret. She was round, and her voice was light and comforting. She smelled of nutmeg and berries. Something you had appreciated about her since you had met. "What is it this time?" She waved you inside, holding the tent flap open for you while you dumped your battle stained gear on the wood hutch beside the entrance. The tent was light and airy, filled with small plants of different varieties and cluttered with boxes and books everywhere. Her desk and bed were shoved to the corner, and a long wood table took up the majority of her area. As if she had known you were coming, she already had potions of different types laid out on the end of the table. "Probably nothing." You said, pulling off your armor as gingerly as you could manage. The soft light flickered and changed to a harsh beam when she laid you down on her exam table. "I'm not supposed to be healing anymore you know. I'm retired." She clicked her tongue at you, earning a pained grin. It was hard for you to bother a healer for any amount of time for something that you were sure was so small. But something about it stung too much for it to be just a scrape. And you knew Cassian would lecture you about it being infected if he saw through your mask to the pain. Az would force you to see one anyway as soon as he learned of it. "You know I wouldnt be here unless I had to be, Jeva." You said through your teeth as she cut away your muddied undershirt. "Oh, I know. That's why I have my best potions ready." She laughed, then paused. Your shirt lay limp on the table. Her eyebrows knitted together at the sight of your open wound. "Is it bad?" You asked, craning to try to look for yourself. She held you down. "Metal. Fragments are still in here, likely why it hasn't healed yet." You relaxed at that, grateful that it wasn't worse. "Thank the Mother. Az would have yelled all night." You rolled your eyes, and sighed as she started working on you. The first part was always the worst. The stinging hot potion that made the nerves around the wound numb. "One-" She began her countdown, then poured. You growled at her, gripping the end of the stained table hard enough to crack. "Easy..." She warned, and smoothed down your hair. She knew how to take care of her patients, that was certain. You relaxed as the stinging eased. The dull ache that it left behind turned into a bad memory. "I'm going to extract the blade then we can close you up. Simple and easy." She picked up her tools and began tugging away at your side. You could have fallen asleep with the relief the numbing potion brought. And with her humming in the air around you, it was a struggle not to. The time seemed to pass quickly, but when the clank of the metal tools jolted you from your dozing, the tent was lit in orange from the sunset outside. "Relax, we're going to close it up now. Once the potion wears off you will still be sensitive." She placed her hands over you, and the familiar warm vibrations of her healing magic set in. Then it stopped abruptly. You cracked open an eye, then narrowed your brows at her. "What is it?" You said gently, then again when she didnt reply. She stared at you, mouth agape. Her eyes locked to yours, even when you sat up to demand she tell you what the problem was. "Am I dying?!" you took her hand gently, in case she was going to push you away. Then she started laughing, her hand gripping yours back. The warmth glowed in your palm, the light radiating out from it was starkly contrasting the tent walls bedecked in orange. The light she emitted shot through you, and you felt the wound tingle, and seal. You stared at her in shock. That amount of healing power was incredible. Especially for field medics. "Youre not dying, no..." She waved a hand, fanning herself. Her eyes were glassy with tears. She sniffed and clutched your hand tighter. "Quite the opposite, darling." She pulled you in for a warm hug. + You spent the rest of the evening with Jeva. Until she got a hurried message about student healers needing help on the battlefield. You stayed in her tent as long as you could manage with the ringing in your ears. You stared and stared at the mirror across from you, showing you the bloodied warrior that you wanted to be. That you wanted to stay. The warrior that carried the Shadowsinger's child. The thought made tears sting your eyes. You refused to let them fall. You had been ignoring his tugs down the bond for well over an hour. You knew he was concerned, but you couldn't bring yourself to shout back down. The only thing that echoed in your mind were Jeva's words "You're pregnant..." Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. You nearly punched her when she told you she wasn't joking. The only reason you even believed her was because of that powerful zap of healing she sent to you. That she sent to scan your body and make sure the fetus was okay before you even knew about it. You could barely hear half the words she said as she told you your options. You roiled with the thought now. The Mugwart she left on the table was daunting. You desperately wanted her back. Jeva would be able to deliberate with you. You knew she would tell you to do whatever makes you happy. You knew that. But you wondered how ethical the choice that made you happy was. Bringing a child into a world of war seemed cruel. Even if it made you happy. You distantly noticed Azriel as you passed him, walking to the forest edge just passed your tent. Worry laced the bond between you. You tried not to show anything back. But you knew he felt the tension, the void there. "Where the hell have you been?!" Azriel's eyes were furious when you passed him, his wings flared out slightly. You couldnt even look at him with anger back. Your emotions ran wild. You were frozen, and as numb as the potion Jeva had given you when she began removing the blade. "Do you know how worried I have been?! I sent Cassian to-" He tried to grab for your hand to stop you, but you flicked him away. He stopped for a moment, stunned. Then returned with more energy than before. That yawning abyss in your bond was growing darker with shame, worry and anxiety. His shadows roiled around him as he caught up. "You dont get to-" "Azriel..." You stopped in the edge of the clearing. The small meadow was silent in the darkness, not even the monsters of Prythian dared roar tonight. Your mind did all the roaring you could handle, anyway. You tried to focus on the swaying grass, on the soft smell of wet bark and pine hanging in the air. "Dont try to excuse this I need to know you're okay and-" He stormed in front of you, ready to burst with rage. His fear always made him angry. And for good reason after losing so many close to him. A tear ran down your cheek, your face burned hot with hundreds of feelings at once. Fear, pain, shock, joy, hope.... elation. You wanted his children. You wanted to help raise his child. You wanted to see Azriel be a father. You knew he would be the best damn Illyrian father there had ever been. The thought hit you like a well placed punch. He saw your paleness, your tears and stopped his yelling. You fell to your knees, the mud splattering all around you. You wanted to lay down. Lay down and think about the implications of carrying his child. Would it be good for the baby to be born at all? Just because you wanted it didnt mean it needed to happen. You knew that Jeva would give you a potion to extract it without hesitation if it was what you wished. "I'm-" You choked out, fighting the panic that flooded you. Your mind roiled with the conflict of your mind and heart. It turned you into a muddied, dark ocean on the bond. A turmoil that he couldn't see past. If you were an ocean, he was your lighthouse on the cliffside. Signaling you home. His eyes darted to your body, to your hands and how they wrung together in front of you. "I'm sorry. I just-" He sighed and took one of your hands. "I'm sorry." He kissed the back of it and brought his forehead to yours. He normally needed a lot longer to cool down after a fight, but seeing you in tears shocked him out of his pride. "I shouldn't have said that... I know you can take care of yourself." his voice was low, and he ran a hand comfortingly down your back. A hysteric laugh bubbled from your throat. It sounded like a sob. You didn't know exactly which it was. He sat back and pulled you into his lap, despite the grass being dewey and damp. He rocked you there for a few seconds before you had to tell him. Before he could be too close if he didnt want you anymore. The doubt crept into your head, and the nerves ate at you. Your heart raced, you could feel it in your neck. "Azriel..stop." You pushed away from him, to catch his beautiful dark eyes. They were painted in a silver hue by the moon above. You took in his face, the curve of his cheeks and lips for possibly the last time. You had to consider the worst possible outcome. You braced yourself for the rejection, for the pain of his reaction. You knew it had to come out. You knew you had to say it now or you never would. Your stomach flipped over and over. You opened your mouth, a soft sob wracking out of you before you began. He froze. Went utterly still, his shadows even stopping for a second before whirling faster than before. Your eyes went wide. His nose flared, eyes narrowed. He held you closer, sniffing at your neck. He pulled back and his eyes were even wider than before. His mouth fell open when you nodded. "I'm-" "Youre-" his face went through a whirlwind of different emotion. Then, he broke out into a small laugh. He couldn't stop. You felt the tears running down your cheeks and didnt bother to wipe them away. "Honey... I'm sorry." He stopped laughing suddenly. "What do you want to do?" His eyes were masked, his expression the most serious you'd ever seen him. His aura on your bond seemed to go completely gray and still, as if he didn't want you to see him. He masked everything. In preparation for whatever you decide. The gesture made your heart squeeze in appreciation. You stammered, resting your forehead on his. "I dont know." You muttered, voice cracking. Then, he was wrapping his arms around you in a smothering hug. When he pulled away, he cradled your face in his hands. The hands that had seen so much cruelty in his life. The possibilities of the same thing happening to your child made your heart race. "I'm here for whatever decision you make." He brushed your cheek with a thumb. You nodded and let him hold you like that for a while. Quietly rocking back and forth with you in his lap. + You were near falling asleep when the war cries rang out again. Illyrians howling for their leaders to join them. Another onslaught of death coming their way. The calls were distant, but Azriel tensed the second he heard them. Your blood went cold. He buried his face to your chest, as if he wished he could hide there. "I'm not going." He said when you tried pushing him away. "I wont leave you." He promised, locking his muscled forearms around you. The echoes of battle cries faded. He stroked your hair, and traced his fingers along your back. Then he swore. "Let me take care of this." He said, voice edged with anger. Nerves pricked at your stomach, but you stood, wobbling on your feet slightly. He took off into the night sky painted in silvers and blues by the full moon. Then came racing back down right behind Rhys. the high lord took one breath and then he was hugging his brother. Azriel shoved him off, and they shot into the night sky. Well, Azriel did. He dragged Rhys with him. Grunts of pain and fleshy sounds of punching rang out. You followed them high into the air where they had their conversation. Your wings led you around them with ease. "Stop fighting and use your words, boys." You warned. You recognized Azriels growl and smiled to yourself as they broke apart. Rhys adjusted his tunic and cleared his throat. "I need you there. Cassian is handling the Western front, the others need a leader." Azriel began protesting against the high lord. "I cant with my mate-" "I know it feels impossible right now but-" "I will not, Rhys-" You set your jaw. If they wanted to fight over if you needed protection or not, you would take the option off the table all together. "I'll go." you said, voice strong since hearing Jeva announce what grew inside you. Pregnant, pregnant, pregnant. You shoved the thoughts away as far as you could. They both turned to you, horror striking Azriels features. "Absolutely not. No." Heat and rage flared down the bond. It made you want to defy everything he said. You locked eyes with him and glared. Rhys glanced between you with tense shoulders. He cleared his throat. "It would be a good compromise, Azriel. You can go together to the Eastern front. Think about it." He placed a hand on his brother's shoulder and gave him a grim smile. "I wont say a word." He said, summoning the darkness around him then winnowing away. Azriel's cold eyes made him look like a statue. "Let's go." He said, and started circling lower. Back to the meadow. "I'm going, you cant stop me from following you." You said, expecting a fight. He said nothing. You were met with that silence that drove others crazy tryin to find out what he wanted from them. The bond seemed to snap taut, then go into a relaxed state. He was hiding. You knew it, but would rather have silence and peace than him trying to fight you again. He walked you back to the tent, and exhaustion took you under before you could remember him laying down with you. You hoped it it was exhaustion, and not whatever the baby was doing to you. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't resist the urge to cradle your belly while you slept. There was no bump, but it felt like the most natural thing to do now that you were aware of the being inside you. You slept hard, and awoke to the breakfast bell chiming. The sounds of slow footsteps marching through the mud kept you awake. Azriel was gone, but the candle on the table was lit. A note lay there waiting for you. His messy scrawl made you smile, the familiarity of his writing reminded you of the notes he would leave you when he had to leave early for meetings with Rhys. "Back by nightfall, lover. A guard is at the tent, ask her to bring you anything you need. -A" You peeked outside the tent to see Jeva there, her long fur coat shimmering in the morning light. Her breath clouded in front of her when she gave you a soft smile. "Good morning." She pulled a muffin from her coat. "Your favorite." She winked, and you pulled her inside. She had a fire roaring by the time you finished your food. "How are you not freezing?" She complained, blowing into her hands to keep them warm. You brushed the crumbs from your shirt and really took into account the changes you'd noticed lately. How hungry you'd been, how tired after the easiest days. "Do you know... How um..." You gestured to your stomach. She gave a small smile and nodded. "Only a month or so." She said quietly. You stared at your stomach, as if waiting for something to answer you. To give some sort of affirmation that Jeva was right. She continued warming herself by the fire, and soon the tent was filled with her warm chestnut smell. Cassian entered the tent when you were starting to doze off again. The wool blanket on your lap reminded you of a time when you first met Az. Your heart squeezed at the memory of those long nights shared together by a fire. Taking your turns on watch duty. You shook yourself from the memory. Cassian froze. His face scrunched up at the sight of you. The scent, you realised. You swore to yourself, and Jeva only nodded when he looked to her. "Youre pregnant?" He asked breathlessly, and you could smell the fear and excitement coming from him. In fact, you could smell the smoked meat on his breath. And the cold air that clung to him from outside. It was refreshing, like a cool drink on a hot day amid the dry heat inside the tent. "I'm sorry, I shouldnt have.." He ran a hand through his hair, trying to remain focused. "Its okay, Cass. What's going on? Az left me this note." You handed it to him. His lips moved as he read it. He went white as bone. Your stomach dropped. + Azriel had gone in the night to take out the entire eastern flank with a small group of Illyrians. You felt your world skittering away as Cassian told you. Your vision went blurry, and tears fell, dripping on your hands that clenched the wool blanket. "He's on his way here now. He had to answer to Rhys first." Cassian waited for you to say anything. But your lips just couldnt form the words. The hurt, anger... the betrayal you felt for him going to battle without you. And defying a direct order from his high lord like a fool. "I suggest you leave before Azriel comes back. It may get messy." Jeva spoke for you, and you were grateful. You gave Cassian a nod of thanks before he turned and left. The cold wind that blew in from the door gave you goosebumps. "Take it easy, you dont want to be too stressed." Jeva handed you a mug of tea and gave you a small squeeze. You could smell Azriel before he entered. Jeva shot him a glare, but said nothing. "I'll be in my tent if you need me." She promised, gave you a look that said 'find me after' and left. Azriel took off his armor plates one by one. A bit too slowly to be considered normal. Stalling. You said nothing. You let the tension roil out of you, let it hit him down the bond. Like a wave getting ready to break. He rolled his shoulders, stretched his wings. The mask he wore cracked when he saw your fists balled in the blanket. "I couldnt risk you... or the babe." He tried to hide the fear that shone through. The fear of his mate or child being hurt in battle. He wouldnt be able to stand it. The fight was needed, anyway. He needed to get out his instincts to protect protect protect. You said nothing. You let that looming wave grow larger. He sighed, and sat at the end of the cot beside you. "I'm sorry. I needed....I needed to get my head straight. I should have told you. I'm sorry." That wave crashed, not on him though. Internally, guilt and fear melting in on yourself. "I cant lose you, we... We cant." You said through your teeth, trying to hold back the tears that begged to spill over. He tried his best to hold back his surprise. "We?" He asked, a small smile playing on his full lips. You gave him a grim smile. "If you're...ready to be a father. I like imagining you, with my child." "Our child." He said with a bubbling laugh. You laughed with him, and it turned to hysterics. He wiped tears from the corner of your eyes. "We're going to have a baby?" He cradled your face, looking into your eyes. You took one of his hands, and placed it on your flat belly. "Yes. We are." You said, voice quivering. He wrapped you into a hug, and you cried together in the cot.

#acotar #acotar fic #reader x azriel #azriel x reader #azriel

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raviotherabbit · 3 years

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There were quite a few things Wild wanted to do this weekend. Like maybe sleep in for a bit, maybe cooking a special breakfast. They’d even been planning on visiting little Zelly, a promise that her mother was sure to scold them for not keeping.

Instead, they were rudely awoken by a rough collision with the dirt, and they quickly realized they weren’t in their soft waterbed in Zora’s Domain anymore. Blearily blinking their eyes open, Wild feels like they’ve been hit by Ruta’s Cryonis again.

They’re in the castle courtyard of Warriors’ time. Which, as they seem to recall, is tens of thousands of years removed from their own era.

“Oh great,” Wild scowls as the golden light fades behind them. Ten years since their tearful goodbyes with their fellow heroes, and all of a sudden, Hylia’s playing games again.

Wild pushes themself off the ground, dusting whatever they can off with their one arm. It’s only then, when several halberds are pointed right at their face, that they realize they have an audience.

“Stop right there!” one of the soldiers, presumably a higher ranking officer, shouts. “Put your hands in the air!”

Wild frowns, but some part of their mind still remembers Warriors’ lectures to respect authority in his era. It was always so annoying, especially since he was the only one who cared so much about how they were perceived by the guards, but the anger in his eyes after Wild’s third infraction for trespassing (it’s not like those people were USING their roofs!) was enough to convince them to behave. So, after a moment of hesitation, they raise their arm above their head.

“Both hands!” The guard juts his halberd closer to Wild’s face.

“This is all I’ve got, man.”

A lower ranking guard lifts the side of Wild’s poncho. “They’re telling the truth, sir,” they announce, gesturing to their missing right arm.

“W-well!” the officer stammers, and Wild can’t help but smirk. “Take them to a cell! Trespassing on castle grounds is no laughing matter!”

Wild rolls their eyes as one of the soldiers forcefully grabs their left arm. “You’re gonna regret this, you know.”

“Quiet you!” the senior officer snaps at them. “I’ll have no disrespect from magicians who infiltrate our defenses against the crown!”

“Fine,” Wild scoffs. “Hey, while you’re processing my intake paperwork or whatever, could you tell my brother where I am? He’ll be sooooo worried about me.”

The senior officer’s eye twitches. One of the lower ranking guards whispers, “It is protocol to inform citizens of incarcerated family members.”

“Alright! Alright!” the senior officer throws his hands up in frustration. “Just tell me and get out of here!”

“He’s the hero, Link. Ever heard of him?” Wild forces down a laugh as the officer’s face turns red. “Tell him Wild’s in prison again, and it’s not their fault this time!”

“Take them away!” the senior officer points the guard holding them towards the dungeon. “Now!”

And even though they’re being dragged into the dreaded dungeons of Hyrule Castle, Wild can’t help but laugh the entire time.

- - -

“You’re going to be in big trouble,” Wild lightly scratches at the rusty bars of their jail cell. They’re sitting on the nasty dungeon floor, legs crossed. “Seriously, it’s not too late to let me go.”

The guard stationed outside their cell sighs. “I’m not in charge of that.”

Wild huffs, pouting to themself. A little recognition wouldn’t hurt, would it? They were here all the time a decade ago! And even then, everyone knew they were with Wars. These kinds of theatrics and blunders are just rude!

“So, is Commander Link really your brother?”

Wild’s ear twitches when the guard speaks up. “Commander, huh? Wars got a promotion?”

“Uh, I-” the guard stammers. “I don’t-”

“Yeah, he’s pretty much my brother,” Wild answers. “It’s been a bit since I was in town, though.”

“YOU WHAT?!”

The shout rings through the dungeons, a shrill entitlement that Wild would know anywhere.

Wild clicks their tongue. “That’d be him,” they point their thumb towards the entrance to the dungeon. “You know, it’s been nice hanging out with you.”

“Don’t make it sound like I’m going to die.”

“I’ll put in a good word for you,” Wild promises, standing up and gripping onto one of the bars just as Warriors rounds the corner, flanked by the senior officer, who now looks flustered.

And that’s Wild’s confirmation that it’s been some time for their brother, as well. He’s sporting some well-manicured stubble, obviously, because everything about Wars is well-manicured. His hair is longer, tied back in a ponytail that reminds Wild of themself. Of course, they didn’t have a chance to do their hair before landing in the past, so it’s all loose and tangled.

“Wild?!” Warriors shouts, mostly in shock. “You’re really here?!”

“Oh thank goodness!” Wild feels like they could cry. “Wars get me out of here!”

“What are you doing here?” Wars ruffles their hair through the bars, a warm smile on both of their faces. “I thought we agreed, no more trespassing.”

“It’s not my fault, it was the portals!” Wild explains quickly. “They wouldn’t listen to me. I just woke up here!”

Hearing Wild’s poor circumstances, Wars snaps back towards the senior officer. “You ARRESTED my brother!”

“Your one-armed brother!” Wild pipes up from behind him.

“My ONE-ARMED- wait,” Warriors turns back to Wild, his tone suddenly soft as he looks at them with concern. “You lost your arm?”

Wild stares at Warriors blankly. “Don’t tell Twilight.”

“I’m not-!” Wars sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How would I even tell him?”

Wild simply shrugs.

“We’re talking about this later,” Warriors asserts, before turning to address the officer once again. His glare is cold, and his fury is burning. “I can’t BELIEVE that you saw a clearly disoriented individual in your courtyard and decided to ARREST THEM, of all things! Who is your superior, I’ll have to inform him-!”

Wild leans over to the guard, who’s standing frozen with fear next to the cell. “I told you,” they whisper.

#yes wild uses they/them #yes they prefer to be called brother #linked universe #reunion tour au #lu wild #lu warriors #fanfic #rav's writing

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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Yours, Mine, and Ours [7] Finale

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), trauma, violence, general sadness and shittiness.

This is dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You must face change.

Author Notes: I got another old series tied up and I’m editing the last chapter of another one as well. I’m trying to clear some stuff out as best I can.

A special thank you to everyone who reached out to me over the last few days. And extra thanks to @lokislastlove for always encouraging me.

Please let me know what you think, like and reblog <3 love ya

Masterlist

Bucky knelt beside you as your ass throbbed in pain and your head thrummed. He touched your arm gently with his metal hand, his other on your cheek as he cradled your face. You met his blue eyes but he quickly lifted his head and glared across the room.

“Don’t fucking move or I’ll hit you again. Harder.” His snarl was so harsh and deep, it made you shiver. He turned his attention back to you as he helped you roll over and sit up, “Are you okay? Careful…” he backed off the bed slowly as he guided you to the end of the mattress.

You clung to him and glanced over at Steve as he spat blood onto the floor. His eyes darkened and his nostrils flared as he looked back but he made no move towards you, his head lolling just slightly as he sat straight.

You let Bucky usher you to the door as he turned back and searched around the floor. He huffed and took off his jacket instead, draping it over your shoulders.

He pointed you through the door and followed, snatched the throw from the back of the couch and offered it as he urged you on. You found your purse where you dropped it and stopped to grab it, groaning at how your body ached. You continued to the door as he opened it and followed you out.

You were silent as you descended, cloaked in his jacket and the thin blanket. You came around the building and neared your car. He kept away from you but hovered as if you might keel over.

“I can’t drive,” you let your purse dangle weakly from your hand.

“I’ll take you back,” he said softly, “and then you don’t have to see me ever again.”

You nodded and rounded his car. You opened the door and slumped into the seat, your purse on your lap as you hung your head. It was over. You knew it was. You thought there would be a way to hold onto Steve, to find the man he had been, but he assured you that that Steve was gone. Everything you had was lost.

The engine turned and you barely noticed the blur of the city as it passed outside the windows. You fought against the wave of grief that swept over you and leaned your head back.

“You said I’ll never see you again,” you croaked, “but you saved me.”

“So? I did all those other things too,” he gripped the wheel and sniffed, “I’ll keep my distance. I started all this. I never should’ve-- I’m fucked. I try to act like I’m not but I am.”

“Bucky…” you said weakly.

“Don’t. I know it’s the truth and I know everything that happened to you is because of me. Steve’s an asshole. I don’t know what changed in him, but I’m worse,” he sighed, “I’m gonna resign. I’m gonna… look into rehab or therapy, whatever they got for me. I can’t stay near you or Steve. I can’t do any of it.”

You nodded and rubbed your hands together. Your body hurt but your soul hurt worse.

“No, I’m going,” you said, “I’m leaving. I’m not a hero like you or Steve. I don’t matter. And I can’t stay with him. I can’t even stay close because I know he won’t stay away. Right now, he’s getting up off that floor and you can’t tell me he’s not coming after us right now.”

Your voice cracked and you muffled it with a corner of the blanket. You hunched over as suddenly you felt nauseous and you held in a retch. Your body shook but you kept the sickness in and murmured.

“Please, just get me back,” you begged.

“I will,” he vowed, “I’ll make sure you get out and I’ll make sure he doesn’t stop you,” you heard him gulp between his words, “and after, if you ever need me to knock him on his ass again, I’ll be there. No strings, no expectations, we don’t even need to talk.”

You crossed your arms and leaned against the door, watching the pedestrians and other cars. You could only think of everything that needed to be done; grab what you can, email Tony, go back and get your car and drive without stopping.

“Shit,” you sat up as you neared the compound, “I forgot my phone.”

“Good,” Bucky said, “he’s tracking it. Get a new one.”

👥

Bucky closed the yellow taxi door and watched the cab pull out into the swell of New York traffic. She’d packed the remnants of her former life in a single backpack but he could see, she didn’t even need that. He backed away from the curb and tucked his hands into his pockets. His chest was tight and heavy. He was guilty but he didn’t feel sorry for himself. He felt sorry for her.

He was almost thrown off his feet as a hand gripped his arm and swung him around. Steve was white with anger as a vein popped out in his forehead. His lip was split and his nose bruised from Bucky’s fist. The men faced each other in mutual detest. He never expected to look at his oldest friend that way and feel it so succinctly.

“Where is she?” Steve growled.

Bucky shrugged and shouldered past him, “gone. Far from us.”

Steve followed him and stopped him before he could pass through the door. He shoved him back against the façade of the building but Bucky hardly felt it. He just stood, staring at the man he didn’t know any more, and lifted a brow.

“You gonna beat it out of me?” he asked, “then you’ll have to kill me.”

Steve’s eyes searched Bucky’s and he growled under his breath, “all you had to do was follow the fucking rules.”

“I never liked those rules. I only wanted to be close to her. It was selfish. It was abuse.”

“She liked it,” Steve snapped.

“No, you told her she liked it and she loved you so much, she believed you,” Bucky’s voice turned raw, “she loved you and you threw it all away.”

“You ruined it,” Steve accused.

“Fuck you,” Bucky snarled, “you deserve to be alone.”

“I’ll find her,” Steve curled his fingers into a fist and puffed his chest, “I know exactly where she’s going. She won’t get to her car before I do.”

“No, she will,” Bucky pushed away from the wall and grabbed the front of Steve’s shirt and pinned him, “you won’t make it past me.”

Steve narrowed his eyes and his lips thinned. He gripped Bucky’s shirt in kind and the pair rolled against the wall until they stopped in a bitter stalemate. They stared each other down as their soles scuffed on the pavement and grunted almost in unison at their opponent.

“You won’t keep me from her forever,” Steve said calmly.

“She’s not the only one leaving, Steve,” Bucky hissed, “and I won’t feel bad at all when you wake up one day and realise how lonely you are.”

👥

Your new apartment was mostly empty but it was yours, unlike that seventh floor box Steve had made your cage. It was far from him, far from Bucky, far from everyone you ever knew. You knew you couldn’t hide with your parents or your sister or even those distant university friends who you knew would have your back. You had to be alone. It was your fear of that which got you into all that mess.

You didn’t see Bucky again but he did get a message to you. He left a gift for you at a safe house on your way out of the state. New identification, an unopened cell, and a wad of cash. It wasn’t atonement but it was what he could give you. You kept driving and exchanged your car at the stateline. You kept on until you felt as if you were in an entirely different country.

You took a job at the grocery store as a cashier. You remembered when you were a child and your mother had the same position. She went back to school and made you promise you’d never end up in the same boat. If she could see you now…

If you could see her.

You dropped your bag on the side table as you entered and turned the lock on the handle and the latch above, the deadbolt over that, and hooked the chain last. You clutched the pepper spray you kept up your sleeve and searched the single bedroom, the living room, the kitchen, and the bathroom. Your paranoia was your only companion.

You kept the curtains drawn day and night, even those stolid nights when you couldn’t sleep for the thick sweat that coated your body. Those nights came more often and even during the day, you found yourself suffocated in fits of unbearable heat. And at night, you were trapped by the dreams of the past.

You sat and opened up the novel you kept on the coffee table. When you’d been with Steve, you never had much time to read between his need for attention and your work. Your relocation was freeing in more ways than one.

You laid back and wiggled, still in your stiff grocery store uniform and lost yourself in the fantasy adventure of a young warrior. It was a fight you could control; that you could win.

👥

Bucky held the position and breathed out slowly. His muscles vibrated as he strained and slowly lifted his leg, the toes of his other foot firmly planted on the mat. He turned and outstretched his arm and leg to the ceiling and inhaled. He let out another breath as he reached the next position then returned to downward-facing dog.

He pushed himself back to sit on his knees as the noise of the lapping lake reached his ears and sent a cool breeze over the dock. He pulled his legs out from under him and bent his legs as he leaned his sweaty arms over his knees. He looked out at the glistening water and listened to the noise of birds and critters.

Peace. He couldn’t call it that. Exile, more like. He didn’t trust himself to be near people. His therapist visited once a week and he attended daily video sessions with him. One of his tasks was to find hobbies and to face himself. Yoga was both of those. It cleared his hand and ate up his time.

But then he found himself wishing she was there. He knew she wasn’t in some serene lake house, she didn’t have all the support offered by SHIELD and Stark, she didn’t have anyone. He did what he could, what she would accept from him, but there was nothing he could give her in that life that would ever be enough.

Then he felt awful about those thoughts. She was never his to have.

He stood and walked up the dock and the dirt path to the house. He climbed up onto the large deck and through sliding doors. He poured himself a glass of water and added a slice of lemon. He took it with him as he went to the bedroom where he slept alone, where the shadows of trees loomed over him in the night and swayed like the wraiths of his remorse.

The white cat hopped up on the bed and twirled in expectation, in demand of his attention. He scratched Alpine’s head as he neared and got a nip when he pet him a little too long. The moody feline retreated to the corner of the bed and watched him with his pale blue eyes. The creature was his only friend now.

He took a deep gulp and sat on the edge of the bed and set the glass down. He slid open the drawer of the hand-crafted night table and dipped his fingers inside. He pulled out the pink fabric and held them in his metal hand and stroked the dainty elastic. He should get rid of them, like he had the rest, but he just couldn’t. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t. He would never forget about her.

👥

You pushed the boxes and cans over the scanner and onto the next belt so that they were carried down to the end of the counter. You smiled as you asked the usual questions and waited for the customer to punch in their pin. You waved on the next in line as the former bagged their goods and you kept the distant tune playing from the low speakers in your head.

The routine was your only comfort. It was easy. Even when you got those fussy customers, the ones with the expired coupons or the wrong flyers, it was simple work. You rang them through and saw them off without concern. Their tantrums were not the worst you’d faced in your time.

When it was your time to clock out, you stopped by the café in the same plaza as the grocery store and ordered a tall iced tea. You came out with your purse on the arm that hid the pepper spray and made your way to the end of the pavement and around the corner to the street.

At the first corner, you turned off onto a small side street then cut through to the park and passed the memorials and statues set along the winding path. It was a longer walk than your normal route but you took it once a week. You liked to watch the ducks but you had to avoid the geese.

You sipped from your straw and smiled at a dog as he passed with his owner and looked over at the kids laughing on the monkey bars. Your uniform tented in the heat of the summer sun but you pressed on, refreshed by the fruity tea.

When you emerged from the park, the grit of the small town returned. The chipped bricks of your building rose above you and you unlocked the front door after a struggle with the ancient keyhole. The door closed heavily behind you and you headed up the dingy stairs.

As you got to your apartment, you went through the usual to-do; lock, search, and settle in. Two months, maybe three, it felt so long ago and yet it felt like only yesterday. You couldn’t help but feel watched, followed, and you knew that sensation would follow you for the rest of your life. But if it was only ever a thought, you could be okay.

👥

Steve didn’t know what to do with himself at first. First, his girl left and then his best friend.

In the early days of his solace, he told himself it wasn’t true. They’d be back. They couldn’t live without him. They would apologize because they betrayed him. They would realise that he wasn’t the villain. He wasn’t wrong. He busied himself with his missions and waited.

But after two weeks, he saw no signs, heard no tell, nothing. He tried to follow her trail but there wasn’t anything past the state line. He asked where Bucky went but Stark wouldn’t tell and SHIELD kept that information classified from all, even him.

Then, he felt bad and he lingered on those questions that tugged at his mind. Was he wrong? Was he the bad one? Had he really hurt them? Did he deserve it all? He felt awful and fell through on a mission and no one asked any questions. No one knew the reasons for the sudden departures and the downcast captain.

Then he was mad. He was breaking things. He was growling and shouting in frustration. He ripped a door off its hinges and punched a hole through a wall. He paid for the repairs but was told in no short terms to leave the compound. He was all too happy too. He still had that apartment and it wasn’t too bad being in his own space.

But it made him think of her. And as he thought of her, he missed another mission, this time without telling anyone. Phone calls, emails, knocks on his door, they all muddled together in the haze of his thoughts.

He remembered those days, decades ago when Bucky had been his only friend. When he was a boy, when he still felt young, when he still felt like him. He remembered everything that came after and how he fought to save the only man he ever admired. Then everything he’d made him do. He didn’t make him do that, he gave him exactly what he wanted.

Then she made his chest squeeze. He thought of the first time they met. He didn’t think much of her but she somehow won him over with her kindness. He recalled the realisation of how much he liked her, he wasn’t even reluctant enough not to think it was love in that instant. When she saw the loose stitch in his glove and pulled it away like it was nothing. She remarked on the little fix as ‘perfect’ and he couldn’t help his doofy grin and the line he spouted after, ‘not as perfect as you.’

And as he thought of her, he conjured all those hopes he had for them. The life he made for them in his mind. He was going to give it all to her but he just wanted a little fun first. That wasn’t so bad. He could still give it to her and that was all she wanted after all. She wanted the Steve she knew. She wanted the nuclear family and white picket fence. He wanted that too.

When the papers came to announce his dismissal from SHIELD, it felt like freedom. He didn’t care about saving the world anymore. He got out of bed these days and worked out, went for a run, and came back as he went about his own work. As he searched through the servers they tried to block him from and overrode the new restrictions. They always thought he was some clueless idiot from the past.

He could still have that life. All he had to do was find her. He smiled at the screen as he went over everything he had so far. The whiff of her blew out at the stateline but now he could go wherever he wanted without a leash. He could find her if he only tried a little harder.

👥

Steve gave notice on the lease and traded in his car for something with better mileage and more space. He sold everything that was his life before and headed out on the road with a new lease on life. He wasn’t the Captain anymore, he wasn’t the saviour, he only wanted to be one thing; a husband, a father, hers.

When he reached the state line, he stopped for a while at a motel and asked around. He had her picture and everyone was all too eager to talk to Steve Rogers. He found her car at a used dealership and got the plates and make of the one he’d switched her for. That was a start.

Then he moved on, stopping along the way for a day here and there to relax. He had time. He had confidence again. He did this everyday, this was her first time, she couldn’t outrun him forever. He had the skills and the savings to get him a lot further than she ever could.

He drove through several more states before he hit another block. A second car traded but the dealer was not as talkative. That meant he had to break in after dark and that was time he didn’t feel like spending on some stubborn bitch. But he got it done and moved on.

Then there was a week of doubt and desperation. What if he was wrong? What if this was all a part of her plan? Maybe she was smart enough to lead him in the wrong direction. Maybe Bucky was helping her. Maybe they were together. That thought made him livid.

He took off in the opposite direction but ended up with nothing but desert heat and rural nothingness. He turned around and assured himself that neither of them were smarter than him. He returned to the same point and slowly pieced together the clues until he was sure enough to keep on.

He was getting close. He could sense it. He pulled out his phone and opened those videos he’d taken from Bucky and the pictures of that day they’d made a mess of her. His hand was nothing compared to her and even if he came, he found himself dissatisfied. He ended up cursing only to start again a minute later.

That night he started in the bed then ended up in the shower and before he could get out of the bathroom, he was gripping his dick as he leaned on the counter and muttered her name over and over. He was impatient. He needed her soon or he was going to go mad.

He hardly slept as he tossed and turned in the hotel room. He checked out early but pulled over on the country road to get off again. It made him angry. She should be the one fucking him, he shouldn’t be using his own hand. He shouldn’t be alone. She should be there with his dick down her throat as he drove them to their suburban paradise.

He passed another city sign and spent a day running circles without a catch. He pressed on through the night, not wanting another motel bed, and pulled in at a station just outside a small town. He gassed up and chewed on jerky as he set out once more.

On a whim, he stopped in the small town and stopped for a meal at the local fish and chip place. It was unusual for the area but the fries were crispy and not overly salted and the fish breaded perfectly. He kept his hat on and his face down. He didn’t need to be recognized although his poor disguise seemed to draw attention.

“Louise,” the voice chimed with the bell, “gosh, I’m so sorry, I almost forgot.”

Steve looked up as his heart fluttered. He saw the green uniform shirt and black pants and at first, he was ready to deflate. But the way she walked, and her face, the way she glowed and smiled at the woman behind the till, he knew it was her. He’d found her.

“I am so stupid! I keep forgetting everything,” she counted out the money from her wallet, “I’ve been craving this all week and I’m halfway home and I’m like oh my god,” she chattered on, that way she did when they’d first met.

“Not at all, darlin’,” Louise handed her the parcel of fish and chips, “you go on enjoy.”

“Thank you!” she sang sweetly and scurried back through the door.

Steve stood slowly and left his tab on the table with a thoughtlessly generous tip. He adjusted his cap and headed out the door slowly. She wasn’t moving as fast as she made her way down the street. She swung the tied parcel from her hand and he noticed how her hips swayed. There was something different about her, something he liked.

He kept the same pace, sure to hang back so that she didn’t notice him. She led him through a park and she stopped to smile at a party of ducks in the small pond. She carried on over the small bridge and he sat on a bench when she looked back. She didn’t seem to notice as an older couple passed him and he hid behind them.

He got back up just as she was at the exit. He trailed her back to the streets and to an old brick building with an iron sign above the front door. She let herself in and he stood outside with a smirk.

“Perfect,” he said to himself as he backed away and strode down the sidewalk, “always so perfect for me.”

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luimagines · 3 years

Note

Hi! First of all, I wanted to let you know that your writing makes my heart melt! All of your works are as funny as they are incredible, and I couldn’t help but fall in love with your blog!

If it’s okay to request, could you write something about the boys having to dance with the reader? And when they do, they start to catch feelings for the reader but don’t realize it? If it’s okay, of course ♡ have a good day!! And please, take all the time you need if you write it!

Masterlist

If I had a nickel for every time some one requested a detailed scenario where you can dance with Link, I'd have two nickels.

Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

I should have known there were those who yearn. (And I listened to the song you referenced anon, and it's nice but I personally like Sam Smith's version better.)

But yes, I'll see what I can do.

Part 1 will include Warrior, Sky and Four

Content under the cut!

Warrior

Warrior wasn’t sure why the princess thought that throwing a party for the hero was considered a good thing.

Or at least not without warning them about it first.

He supposed she was just excited to invite heroes of the ears into her home and wanted them to feel that at least their efforts were appreciated.

But he hated this.

And Link knew he wasn’t the only one to think so if the looks of his companions were anything to go by.

But even as he makes his rounds amongst the elite, the fake and the genuine, he tried to make sure that his friends were at least have a comfortable time. He wanted them to know that they didn’t have to keep a face like he did amongst this group so if they wanted to have fun and dance and eat then they could.

They were guests in his home as well.

But no matter where he looked and no matter how many rounds he made, he noticed that were nowhere to be found.

Confused, he ventured outside the venue.

And as he looking for you, he just sees a silhouette against the moon light on top of one of the decorative rocks out in the middle of the rose bush maze.

There was no one else around and then again the guards and people were too drunk and joyful to notice someone breaking the ground rules of conduct or if they noticed, they simply did not care.

He makes his way toward the shadow and stalls for a moment when you look his way.

The way the light hit your frame seemed delicate and ethereal with an otherworldly glow to your hair and skin. The royal purple garb they gave you as a gift for not having anything suitable to wear to the party hugged your curves and angles in all the right ways. Someone must have offered you some jewelry to go with it because he doesn’t remember you having the gold necklace and matching head piece that pulls your hair back into a crown of curls tat frame your face in a divine manner.

Link found himself unable to breath for a second.

You smile and say, “I’m just taking in some air.”

“Not enjoying the party?” He blurts, worried for a moment that you’ve been uncomfortable this entire time... by yourself.... away from everyone.... just sitting in the darkness with the sounds of music and laughter in the background.

“It felt weird to be at a heroes party when I myself- am not a hero.” You shrug and lean back casually on the rock. “Here to drag me back Capitan?”

Warrior blinks and registers the change of pace in the music and will deny to the end of his life where he found the nerve to do what he does next.

He smoothly places the his cup of lightly bubbled alcohol on one of the lower rocks and holds out his hand to you. “Dance with me. Just once.”

You blink and also tune into the music behind the two of you.

It’s a slow dance.

You gradually smile and reach out to him, pulling yourself from the rocks surface and into his arms. “Just one dance.”

Warrior tries to hide the gulp that threatens to noticeably bob his Adam’s apple and places his hands on your waist and holds your hand respectfully. “Have you danced before?”

“Technically.” You answer and place your own hands in his and on his shoulder, pulling yourself closer to him. “I while I know how to dance with the elite, it’s just never been my scene.”

“I know how you feel.” Warrior takes the leads and guides you through the steps of the song. He’s been through countless hours of training for battle- and not those that end in bloodshed- but those that take place in the ball room with the nobles and high end society that would have one looked at him scorn and distaste.

He doesn’t blame you for wanting to get away.

But he does want you to enjoy yourself... if only a little bit.

The steps come naturally to him and he takes a moment to spin you around before you trip over your own feet.

A small giggle escapes your lips as you twirl and send the fabric billowing around you.

Warrior is struck stupid by the sight and almost steps off beat with the music. He’s quick to correct himself but he seemed to have your laughter on his mind on repeat.

“I’d stay out here with you if I could.” He admits as he repositions himself against you, trying to lead you away from the rose thorns and the maze itself so neither of you get caught up in it. “But unfortunately my disappearance won’t go unnoticed for long.”

“Oh...” You blink and look up into his eyes. “I suppose you really only have time for one dance, huh?”

He’s unprepared by how disappointed you sound and it would appear so are you with how quick you try to cover it up.

“It’s fine! You’re an important figure here, I guess it’s only natural that every one would want your attention. I hope you enjoy the party though. Unlike me, you deserve the recognition.” You smile genuinely but your eyes look like they’re trying to get some unknown message across.

“If I can somehow get away again-” Warrior rushes to keep your smile there and to include you in the collective joy the party was supposed to bring. “-Will you save another dance for me?”

You hum and tap you finger to you chin in thought. “It hasn’t been that bad being out here by myself...”

Warrior really hopes that you let him dance with you again even when you pull apart to the end of the music.

But you grin and reach up to boop his nose with the same finger. “Alright soldier boy, since you asked so nicely I’ll save the last dance just for you.”

Warrior laughs a little breathlessly and has to force himself to step away from you. He hopes to any and all who can hear them that’s he’s not actually blushing right now. “Ok. I’ll be back then.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Sky

Sky was sure that every one was having a great time.

The music was loud and energetic and his friends were all off doing their own thing while the festival was in full motion.

It was a celebration for the people’s loftwings since it was usually the time of the year that they left their rider’s side- presumably to go lay their eggs for the next generation of riders.

But it was all fun and games for everyone involved.

Wind and Four seemed to be in a highly competitive match of toss the sack with Twilight being the point keeper on the other end. Wild and Hyrule were busy enjoying the food and no doubt collecting the recipes (Sky was hoping that Wild would make the food so he was no way inclined to stop him). Time and Warrior were off in a corner, talking to each other with a cup in each of their hands. Legend stood next to them without a cup but he seemed to be more interested in the décor and loftwings themselves.

But you...

Sky stopped walking along the ribbon perimeter and looked over to you.

You were by yourself... You didn’t particularly happy..

And that just won’t stand.

With subtle determination, he marches over to you and taps your shoulder.

You seem to blink back into the present and raise an eyebrow to him in return.

He can see the question on your lips just as you’re about to say it so he juts his head into he direction of the dance area with a simple hand out in your direction.

He hopes his intentions are clear.

You eye his hand and snap your mouth shut with a soft click. Sky gulps suddenly, a strange bout of nervousness attempting to choke his system as you take your time to think about his offer.

Sky would never force you to do something that you don’t want to do but really (and he has no idea where this urge comes from) wants to dance with you.

Just once.

Just once to see you smile and enjoy yourself.

To see you happy.

You place your hand in his, soft and small and so much different than his own. “Lead the way, Boy Wonder.”

You smile and he returns your gesture, gently pulling you toward the open area as the next song starts. It’s light and airy and it’s enough to keep you moving even if you both stall for a minute to just sway side to side in each others arms.

Sky didn’t know that he’d feel so whole and accomplished by just holding you.

Emboldened by the tune of the events, Sky takes a step back and twirls you around as the music flows up and down again just in time to bring you back into his arms.

You laugh. “Perfect timing.”

“I do try.” Sky winks.

You giggle to yourself with a small shake of your head but you keep swaying with Sky across the dance floor.

The music comes to an end and Sky does his best gentleman’s bow as he lets go of you completely- even if he finds that he doesn’t want to. “An absolute honor to dance with you.”

The music starts up again in a similar tune but all he would have to settle for is just one dance. It’s all he’s comfortable with asking from you.

“Sky wait.” You blurt.

He turns around to see that... well you seemed to have startled yourself as well.

“I um..” You bite your lip and vaguely gesture to the musicians in the distance. “They’re not done.”

Sky smirks a little. “But the song is.”

“I uh... Just one more dance?” You hold your hand out to him this time and he stares in shock.

Not for long though.

He’s quick to place his hand in your and pull himself back to you. “I’d love to.”

Four

Four was excited to show everyone around the Festival of Fools. It was his favorite time of the year where everyone got to be silly and destress and play and eat and dance.

Four had always run around trying to do what he could never get away with on a typical day but right now he had to make sure his traveling companion didn’t actually burn the town down.

He loved them but he’d lying if he said that he wasn’t just the tiniest concerned over their facial expressions when he said that anything goes really- no laws but those of the people apply today.

Which made him the temporary babysitter for some of the more rowdy ones.

But he had lost sight of you a while ago.

Not that he was concerned or anything but... He did want to spend time with you.

The festival doesn’t happen everyday and he knew that there would only be so many days left that he’d be able to spend with the group and even less so that they’d be given a chance to relax and unwind.

That thought urged him forward to find you.

If only to make sure that you were having a good time.

He had found you by the food court where you munched on a meat stick and watched as the people came and go.

You looked bored.

Now Four knew that parties weren’t entirely your scene and you weren’t the kind of person to go and throw yourself into the middle of it all.

That being said it still rubbed him the wrong way when you looked like you would rather be anywhere but there.

He oughta do something about it.

Just across the street a band had begun playing music for the people to dance to, now that they’ve usually had their fill for lunch.

Four saw you look over and smile, basking in the edges of their amplified joy and amusement.

He grinned and ran over to you, tugging your hand into his own and pulling you close to him. “Dance with me!”

“Wha- Four? Where’d you come from?” You dropped the finished stick in shock and followed him as he dragged you to the open space just beyond the food cart.

“I live here.” He laughed and spun you around. “Just one dance!”

“I- but- Four!” You dug your heels into the dirt and stopped the both of you from reach the destination. “I can’t dance! I- I’ve never danced.”

Four turns to look at you and smiles encouragingly. “Just let loose, it’s easy. There’s no right way to move, you just do. Just feel the music and my lead.”

You bite your lip and Four takes the moment of hesitation to pull you forward again. you let him and soon find yourself on a dirt arena with lively music and people all around you.

“Don’t let go of my hand ok?” Four grins.

You find yourself grinning as well and soon you’re both spinning and jumping and leaping and twirling around each other to the beat of music.

It’s fast and fun and within moments on simply holding onto Four you find yourself laughing uncontrollably as he throws you around like a rag doll in which ever way he likes.

He’s stronger than you imagined him to be but then again... He’s a blacksmith.

It shouldn’t be all that surprising.

Somehow in the midst of it, he throws you in the air and over his head, catching you in a spin and letting you catch your breath and the music dies down and another begins.

“You ok?” Four asks, a little breathless himself. He doesn’t think he’s heard you laugh so hard or for so long.

It’s nice.

“That was fun!” You managed to say in between your giggles.

Four’s grin widened and even if he knows it’s not your style.... and he only asked for one, he holds his hand out again just in time for the next crescendo to begin.

You look up and look at him and his hand...

You don’t hesitate to put your hand in his and he pulls you close to him again.

You spin and laugh and jump and twirl well into the night, completely forgetting about the others until you have to turn in for the night.

Four’s feet hurt by the end of it and he’s exhausted but to see and hear you smile and laugh and enjoy yourself in what is arguably his favorite time of year was completely worth it.

He hopes that he can spend more time with you... He hopes for just one more dance before it all ends.

Part 2

#linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #SKYY!!#WHY ARE YOU SO HARD TO WRITE FOR?!#I'm sorry his is short compared to the others #I tried guys #linked universe

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theotheroccassionalfanficwriter · 3 years

Text

Amidst the Snow Covered Mountains

Summary: You had always believed that after the death of your lover, you would forever wear your red robes as penance for a promise you failed to keep. Your heart had died with him and your time would forever remain frozen. And then Tartaglia arrived in your life, like a sun that melted the snow.

Rating: G

A/N: Heavily inspired by Mo Dao Zu Shi and Tian Guan Ci Fu.

The cold air of Snezhnaya was colder than the air atop the mountain peaks in Jueyun Karst. But the years you’ve spent in service of the Fatui made you acclimated to the cold air that nipped at your nose. Your clothes, a fusion of Snezhnaya and Liyue fashion, were magically enhanced to keep your body in perfect temperature regardless of climate. The fox fur that lined the hems of your sleeves and robes added a regal air to your already noble nature. It made you more aloof and unapproachable compared to the other Harbingers, adding upon your age that was closer to the Tsaritsa’s, not even most of your fellow Harbingers dared to speak informally with you.

Of course, you weren’t spared from the scheming and backstabbing but they were more likely to do it politely or without any crassness. The exception to all of this was Tartaglia, the newly inducted 12th Harbinger. He was a human born to be a warrior, the battlefield was his home and you made no secret of your admiration for his skills.

It was perhaps the reason why he often followed you around like a tail, not that you cared, the human was talkative and yet he was undeniably a genius in fighting. He was also frustratingly obsessed with fighting you despite never winning in any spar, though you appreciated his offers, he brought no challenge to you.

“...Tartaglia, don’t you have to drill your men?” You asked him, your robes immaculate while his were dirtied from the ground and your pyro vision.

Your forehead ribbon fluttered in the cold wind as you remained standing in front of Tartaglia’s collapsed body.

“Columbina,” He panted “at this point you should be offering to help me stand up!”

You couldn’t help the small smile on your lips at hearing him whine.

“Wait! Did you just smile?”

You ignored his question in favor of walking away, “Stand up, It’s dinner time.”

“Wait for me! Archons, why are you so keen on keeping a regular schedule!” Tartaglia whined as he got up and ran after you, arms slung on your shoulder as both of you walked through Snezhnaya’s eternal winter.

Snezhnaya was colder than the place you used to call home but it with Tartaglia beside you, chattering senselessly in your ear, warmed you better than Fú Shě’s presence.

Your existence as an Adeptus, a former Yaksha, was never a secret among the Fatui. It was merely something that no one mentioned to your face, it was acknowledged but never talked about. It meant that Tartaglia asking you about it had thrown you off guard. Strong enough that your usual impassive face had shown emotion.

“Do they discriminate against you for being a Yaksha?!” Tartaglia asked, indignant over an imagined slight.

Something warmth unfurls in your chest but you are quick to dismiss it in favor of grabbing Tartaglia’s collar and stopping him from marching out of your home and into the Palace.

“No. I was just surprised that you’d ask about my past” You replied, voice deceptively calm.

Once Tartaglia returned to his seat, you did the same and took a sip from your honey lemon tea. It had been years since you last thought of your past, the home you left behind and the everything you once held dear. The steam of the tea curls around in the air, the soft muffled sounds of the city filling the silent room of your living area.

You take another sip and began telling your story, “ I used to be part of a Yaksha clan, we were contracted to Rex Lapis for the purpose of quelling the lingering hatred of Liyue’s fallen gods…”

“I was the younger sibling of one of the Foremost Yaksha, thus there were expectations of me rising up to his prestige,” You smiled fondly at the memories, unaware of the sadness that lingered in your eyes “Despite that neither I nor my brother felt any bitterness towards each other. Though I am in his shadows, I know my own worth. My talent lies not in slaughter but in helping them gain peace.”

“As a Yaksha, I travelled around Liyue, village to village, quelling grudges upon grudges. There were times I would cross paths with other Yakshas, sometimes we fought together, sometimes each other. But all of it was for fulfilling our duty,” You took another sip of tea, exhaling as your mind easily drew up the memories you’ve hidden.

You told him, skirting around some details, about your past and how it led you to Snezhnaya. You talked and talked, offering him bits and pieces of a past that left a festering wound in your heart. It was an odd feeling, for someone like you who preferred to be silent, to be talking for so long.

But it was hard not to, not when Tartaglia looked at you with eyes that brightened at your tales, from your battles to your previous mundane life. Eventually the conversation drifted away from your past and to Liyue’s culture and traditions, you answered every question Tartaglia had. From the serious ones to the silly ones, letting him see the Liyue from your memories.

“One of your clan’s specialty was music cultivation,” You revealed to him as your hand absentmindedly fed him cookies, a muscle memory from the past “My brother played the dizi though he preferred to use a sword to fight.”

“And you?”

“A guqin.”

Tartaglia hums, voice soft and inquisitive. You wait for his question.

“Columbina, if I learn to play a dizi, would you play with me?” He asked, almost shy and it makes your heart feel something between pain and comfort.

“Mn.”

Tartaglia’s presence in your life becomes more apparent after that day. And annoyingly, it takes Pulcinella pointing it out for you to notice.

“Tartaglia hasn’t been bothering you, has he?” Pulcinella asked, voice deceptively uncaring.

You blinked at him, the only evidence of your confusion at his question. You knew that for all of Pulcinella’s claims to have no lingering affection for Tartaglia, it was a well-hidden lie. He had after all raised that child, even if it was across the battlefield.

“No.”

You left, pace unhurried and face emotionless. The weight of Pulcinella’s stare on your back is heavy but you didn’t care for it. You had a scheduled spar with Tartaglia, and you knew he was more bearable if he got beaten up.

Your arrival in the sparring grounds designated for you and Tartaglia is marked with the sudden silence and loss of familiarity among the lower ranks. It was amusing seeing him momentarily at loss until he turns around and smiles at you, bright and welcoming that it almost makes you falter in your steps. It has been a long time since your presence has been greeted like that.

“Have you warmed up?” You asked as your loyal left hand comes over and takes away your outer robe and gently drapes it over her arms.

Your forehead ribbon flutters in the cold wind, your sword steady in your hand as you stood a few paces away from Tartaglia. It was a clear declaration of challenge, one you would not have done if you had remained within the confines of your clan, if your brother had not left you alone.

But Tartaglia inspires change, he is a breath of fresh air, and when he smiled at you, sharp and just as excited, it makes your blood rush. Reminiscent of the bright summer days in Liyue that you spent with your clan and fellow Yakshas. Bold and carefree.

Tartaglia was an excellent fighter, one that would only grow stronger as time goes by and though he poses no challenge to you right now. He is still a force to be reckoned with, his moves does not allow you to loosen your guard. To fight in the same ease as you would when faced with other Harbingers or the monsters that littered Teyvat. Tartaglia fights with everything that he has, gives his all in every battle he finds himself in.

He is born to be a warrior and you respect that. So you do the same, you treat every spar as if you were up against old gods, curses given to life. You fight seriously and with everything you have because Tartaglia was worth it. He deserves nothing less.

In the end, it ends as it always does. Tartaglia on the ground, your sword at his throat. Your forehead ribbon, immaculate, and your robes free of dirt and yet you could tell that he had gotten stronger, from the slow and unnoticeable labored breathing of your body.

“Yield.”

Tartaglia smiles and in a split second you dodge a hydro aimed at your throat, eyes widening at his new attack that you don’t notice how the hydro dagger had loosened your forehead ribbon until it falls right before your eyes.

‘Your forehead ribbon,’ Your father explains, voice soft and firm but no less loving, ‘can only be removed by your spouse.’

What falls to the ground isn’t the familiar white of your clan’s clothes. It had been thousand of years since you last wore the white robes of your clan.

‘You wear white all year round! There’s nothing to mourn and yet you act like there is!’ His voice, playful and whining, ‘When we get married are you going to wear white as well?’

The memories come unbidden to your mind. Unpleasant and painful. You could only stare in horror as the red ribbon dropped to the ground, it was the highest quality of silk, golden threads forming the shape of qingxin where clouds used to be.

“Columbina?”

You leave in a flutter of red robes, forehead ribbon tightly gripped in your hand as you try to escape from the memories you’ve buried deep. You are no longer part of your clan, in name and genealogy, but still you follow its rules and tradition. It was deeply ingrained in you, down to your marrow, that to do so felt odd.Though you have gone lax as the years go by, there were still some rules you strictly adhered to. The forehead ribbon would always be one of them. Though the meaning had changed it was in essence still the same.

‘The forehead ribbons symbolizes our restraint. It is the symbol of our commitment to be free from worldly desires’ Your father explained as he tied your forehead ribbon, ‘It means that though we have forsaken all, it is them we chose not to.’

You stand, a top of Snezhnaya’s frozen mountain, inside a cave you’ve built for seclusion. There are no paths leading to it, only accessible to those like you or the Cryo Archon you worked for. You meditate on the floor, hand still tightly gripping the forehead ribbon.

You think of him, the gentle blue of his robes and his eyes that yearned for strong opponents. You think of the silent promise you made when you left your clan, struck out your name from the genealogy and bowed before Rex Lapis in acknowledgement of your actions.

White for mourning.

Red for a promise left unfulfilled.

You meditate and think of your past actions, refusing to call them wrongs, because you had only ever sought to follow your clan’s principles to the best of your heart. And to stay true to your beloved, to stand on their side, and protect them was no wrong.

“It’s been a long time since I heard you play your zither” she greets as she steps into your cave, easily by passing your seals, and stopping right in front of you.

You don’t stop playing the ever familiar notes of Inquiry, absent of any spiritual energy. She sat herself on the stool by the side, listening and waiting for you to finish your song.

“Has it?” You asked as you put away your guqin, carefully setting it aside on a table specifically made for it.

“Yes. It’s been years since you last played a song on Sīzhuī.”

You tried to recollect your memories, giving her thoughts the consideration it deserved and you found that she was right. It had been years since you last played Inquiry, your last memory of playing it was the night before Tartaglia’s arrival in the Palace, under Pulcinella’s tutelage.

“It seems so” You finally answered, before moving away from your instrument and opting to serve her tea. If only to calm your shaken heart.

“Tartaglia was worried” she spoke as if recounting a normal tale, “enough that he had personally asked me for your whereabouts.”

You say nothing as you wait for the water to boil.

“He looked like he was about to cryー”

You level her a look that clearly states your disbelief and she laughs, continues her words, “or maybe terrorize the local wildlife of Snezhnaya’s mountains to find you.”

That you can agree with. Tartaglia had always been the sort to figure things out before letting his emotions run through him. You appreciated that part of him, and can rely on him when your understanding of people falls short.

“Why?”

“He found out the meaning of your forehead ribbon, and from what I’ve heard you were positively stricken with grief when it came undone.”

It wasn’t a lie but still you felt uneasy at the way she said. As if she knew the exact memory that filled your mind when you saw it come undone and yet her words felt like it had underlying meanings.

“Come out of seclusion and pacify him. He’s stalking down my hallways and I like my palace calm and quiet.”

You looked at her, “If you truly did, you would have not accepted Tartaglia.”

She smiled at you and said nothing. A silent acknowledgement of a shared fondness for a Harbinger that wrought chaos in his wake. She leaves your cave after securing a promise of coming down after a few more days of meditation.

You watch her leave and think of how despite no longer loving her people, she still cared for them deep within the festering wounds of her heart.

Your return is marked with a bright day absent of the usual snowfall. Your red robes are immaculate, forehead ribbon tied perfectly tight on your head, your sword in hand. You walk the familiar halls of Zapolyarny Palace with your held high and back straight.

Your ribbon flutters in the air as you walk, your long hair swaying in tandem. Your feet takes you to Tartaglia’s wing, to his office where you knew he would be at this time of the day. Dealing with paperwork he loathes but still does because he was a responsible leader for all of the chaos he wreaks.

You knock thrice, and step back on hearing the crash and dash of feet heading towards the door. The thought of your knock being distinct to him makes your chest feel warm.

“You’re back!” Tartaglia cries out as he throws away decorum to hug you in the middle of the hallway. Uncaring of who might hear him or see his action.

You offer no response beyond hugging him. Your hand on his back, patting his much taller form and simply letting him seek whatever it was that he found in you.

“I’m sorry” Tartaglia says, voice soft, in the privacy of his office.

Years ago you would not have forgiven anyone who dared to do what he had done. Years ago you would have been struck with anger and grief but the years spent away from Liyue had healed your wounded heart, time had lessened the pain you felt from his departure and Tartaglia had softened you in ways you were only beginning to realize.

“No need” You told him, as he laid his head on your lap, face curled up on your stomach.

Years ago, you would not have dared to act so close to anyone in this way. Years ago, the only person who could make you show your heart easily had left. Now, it was easy to allow yourself a simple show of affection towards Tartaglia. A delicate dance of things unsaid and actions speaking louder.

The sight of Tartaglia’s hair against the red of your robes was an image that you wouldn’t forget so easily. You think of the Tsaritsa’s words, of Tartaglia almost crying and you can believe it, in the way he curls his hand on your robes like a child hating to part ways.

You gently card your fingers through his hair, thinking deeply, of what all of this meant. His head on your lap, your hand in his hair, this intimacy that settles well in your bones, the unspoken trust he held for you from the first day he arrived in the palace. The change from that battle-crazy teen to the young man that was a finely honed weapon of war that stood as your equal.

“I was afraid you know,” Tartaglia looked at you through his long lashes “that you’d end up hating me or leaving forever.”

You said nothing.

“There were records─of you and your past─nothing substantial but enough if one knew the ins and outs of the story” Tartaglia’s hand curled tightly on your robes, crinkling it in his tight grasp, “I didn’t know.”

“No one did” You replied.

And it was the truth. No one knew how much you cared for that bright eyed human who feared no one. Not even you knew the lengths you would have gone for him, not until you’ve slaughtered your way towards him in a vain attempt to save him.

No one until Tartaglia had been able to piece the missing pieces. To learn the truth behind the red of your robes and the deep scars on your back. It felt like a weight off your shoulders. To be known without speaking the painful truths, putting into words what had transpired that day in Nantianmen.

“I’ll be more careful when sparring with you.”

“No need.”

You looked into his eyes, “You’re most beautiful when untamed.”

The red that bloomed in his face was your favorite shade of red.

From that moment onwards, it was rare to see you without Tartaglia right next to your side. It meant that the two of you were always sent out together across the seven nations with the exception of Liyue. Tartaglia left stories in his wake, about his battle prowess, and adding more to his myths in Snezhnaya.

With him by your side, few people paid attention to you. As it should, Tartaglia was meant to shine brightly, eclipsing the entire room with his presence. Despite that, you made your way into his tales, stories speculating, judging, your relationship with him.

“Lovers” the bards from Mondstadt claim.

“Sworn brothers” the story tellers from Liyue insist.

“Soulmates” the poets from Fontaine declared.

“Aibou” the rakugo masters from Inazuma tell.

“Taw'am roHi” the scholars from Sumeru assert.

“Iyakiciyuha” Natlan’s storytellers announce.

“Rodstvennuyu dushu” Snezhnayan minstrels whisper.

The speculations didn’t bother you as much as what it could do to your relationship with Tartaglia. You cared for him, considered him as a friend and a reliable ally. You wouldn’t want this fragile sort of intimacy between the two of you to be tarnished by

For all of your supposed aloofness, you cared deeply for him and in extension everything related to him. It meant that his opinion mattered.

“Does it bother you?” Tartaglia had asked, eyes uncharacteristically serious, as he sat on your bed.

You paused and then replied, “It would if it affected us the way we are right now.”

“I see.”

And that was the end of it. Nothing changed, Tartaglia stuck to you like glue and you remained at his side, partnering with him to minimize the fall out of his chaos, fighting with him side by side until both of you could effortlessly fight together in battle like one mind in two bodies.

Tartaglia spent more time in your room during missions until it was more sensible to room together during work trips if only to avoid wasting money for a room that was mostly unused. Then it bled to your private life where Tartaglia opted to spend his time in your home on short holidays rather than travel back to Morepesok.

Which led to meeting some of his siblings, the youngest three had taken a shine to you. It was odd and fascinating to see three young look-alikes of Tartaglia, calling him Ajax. It was even more fascinating seeing him blunder about, desperately trying to hide his real job from his siblings and his former name from you.

You drive their attention away by mentioning your gifts and Tartaglia offers you a grateful smile. The siblings spent time in your home, making a mess out of it and you laugh Tartaglia’s worries away.

“It makes this place look lived in” You told him just as Anton abandons Sīzhuī in favor of your drums.

Tartaglia said nothing to that, only staring at you in a way that you can’t quite understand. But as quickly as you caught his look, it disappeared just as well with Teucer barreling to your legs.

The rest of his siblings visit descend into mayhem, a welcome one, there are demands for toys and adventures, and you grant all of it. You have been in service of the Tsaritsa for a long time and barely had any worldly desires to be able to make a dent on your savings. You are arguably the richest Harbinger alive. Spending your dusty money for a child’s happiness was worth it.

Tartaglia’s grateful smile was worth it.

The warm feeling in your heart that takes days to dissipate after their departure was worth it.

Tartaglia permanently living with you was worth it.

“Our clan loves deeply,” Your father once said, voice somber and looking at a painting of a mother you’ve never met “almost like a curse.”

You didn’t understand until the day came when you changed your white robes for red ones.

Tartaglia was a complex character. A human who keeps you on your toes and leaves you wanting more and more until it becomes impossible to keep yourself away from worldly desires. Five thousand nine hundred and eighty six years of cultivation practice that abstains from worldly desires went down the drain when you met him.

You didn’t even know.

Tolerance gave way to fondness.

Fondness to love.

You didn’t know when your time started moving forward again, when remembering no longer brought pain and sorrow. By the time you noticed it, it was too late.

You could no longer escape from it, no path of retreat left, not when his touch brings you warmth. Not when he looks at you so softly, so fond with his bright blue eyes that it feels too much. Not when his absence feels like a loss of limb, not when necessity dictates a separation.

There is no other word for this.

And so, you play Sīzhuī in the night and meditate.

Love is a curse and Tartaglia only deserves the blessings of the world.

Tartaglia, Ajax as he was called back then, remembers growing up hearing the stories about an Adeptus in Snezhnaya, it was the talk of the town and every adult knew the story that was passed down.

The adeptus, male, with red robes that was too thin for Snezhnaya’s climate showed up with the Tsaritsa. His hair was inky black and flowed like silk, his eyes were gold if it was melted, his skin was perfect. Tartaglia remembered the stories that his father told him about you, your fights that left a mark in Snezhnaya’s history, strategies that had every scholar from Sumeru debating endlessly on its merits and demerits, but what remained deeply etched in his heart and memory was a story only known to their family.

You had saved his father, once in his youth as an adventurer, there was an avalanche and his father had resigned himself to death. Only to be saved at the last minute by you. You had came in, standing on your sword, red robes fluttering in the wind as you scooped his father up and away from the path of the avalanche and into safety.

No words were exchanged.

You left just as quickly as you came. Back straight and hair fluttering in the wind, very much like the noble heroes depicted in Liyue’s literature.

And Ajax had wanted that, had dreamt of fighting with you side by side as an equal, and then dreamt of you. His fall to the abyss did nothing to dampen that desire, it only served to fuel him further, his ambition becoming a tangled mess of wanting adventures, getting stronger and at the heart of it all you.

He’s thrown into the Fatui and then he meets you.

Every story told about you describes you in the same way, a handsome adeptus who wore red clothes and a forehead ribbon with golden qingxin embroidered in it. The thing is no one mentioned the weight of your stare, to have molten gold eyes to look at you from above and make you feel as if you were lowly.

It was what Ajax felt when he had arrived in the Palace, what Tartaglia felt when he became a Harbinger.

It doesn’t curb down his desire though. It only spurred him on, made him want to have myths and legends created about him, to match the ones you’ve left in the annals of history, until his name, his title becomes synonymous with yours.

The thing is nothing was as good as the real deal. Everyone told him about your golden words, how you rarely speak unless absolutely necessary, how you were cold and aloof and the thing is they are so so wrong.

There is nothing aloof or cold about you.

Your words are golden but Tartaglia can hear your unspoken words from the curve of your lips to the small frown of your face and even the glint of your eyes.

And it thrills him.

To know you in such a way that no one ever would. The entire world can have your myths and legends but Tartaglia? He would have you, the realest version of you that has preferences and quirks and gets drunk so easily that it leaves his heart gasping and insides twisting from the sheer amount of fondness you evoke from him.

He loves you, from the start, he thinks.

And then the forehead ribbon happened and for the first time Tartaglia was at loss, hurt and fearful and definitely bloodthirsty. The grief and shock in your eyes, the visible pain when you saw your ribbon at the ground had him panicking.

The win felt bitter in his tongue, as he watched your red robes flutter away with each quick step you took away from him. He stared dumbly at your retreating back and regrets. Your disappearance feels like years when in reality it was months but still Tartaglia wreaks enough chaos and havoc in his wake that had the Tsaritsa calling him back and then receives the story.

It wasn’t a complete one but it was enough.

It takes several trips to Snezhnaya’s mountains and a couple of manmade avalanches before the Tsaritsa takes one look at him and orders him to stay in his office until your return. And Tartaglia does his best to not look like a child sent to be grounded but it was hard, even his dedication to his duty could not stand to his desire to fly to your side and remain there but he relents.

And only when Pulcinella had revealed that no human would be able to access your cave because it was on top of Snezhnaya’s tallest mountain.

So he resigned himself to waiting. He resigned himself to whatever it was you would do once you returned, resigned himself to lose you because Tartaglia is many things but he was never one to hurt his loved ones.

And then as always you overturn his expectations, you welcome him, you forgive him and then you make him fall for you all over again and Tartaglia resents you a little bit for it.

(It was a lie, he could never bring himself to resent you.)

The change started from there, he tests the waters, gauging how much you can take before you drew a line before him. He stands too close to you, hands on your waist or any other body part, sleeps in your room during away missions more often than not until the two of you begin sharing a room then a bed. You don’t care about the rumors, the speculations, you love his siblings and Tartaglia could see a future with you.

And then Liyue happens.

It goes like this, you are assigned to oversee the operation in Liyue and Tartaglia is to take the Gnosis. He reports his findings to you and you give him leads.

He follows and eventually befriends the funeral parlor consultant. Then he learns about you. Snippets of a history written in blood and separation of lovers, and between father and son. Just as you’ve left your traces in Snezhnaya’s history, you’ve left your touch in Liyue’s tea houses.

And it leaves a bitter taste of jealousy in Tartaglia’s mouth.

He thinks of your guqin, named Sīzhuī, meaning to remember.

He thinks of your new red robes sans the fur, your red forehead ribbon.

“The adeptus had loved the mortal man enough to slaughter his way through 100 clan elders to save a single mortal who walked away from the path of righteousness.”

He thinks of everything you gave up for one man and Tartaglia wants that for himself.

And yet he does nothing about it. Instead he devotes himself to the mission, enjoys the time between preparing for his next move and doing his day job at the bank with spending it with either you or Zhongli. He doesn’t ask you about the little details in your life during your tenure as an Adeptus.

He doesn’t ask the questions he wants.

Because above all, Tartaglia had always respected you so he waits until you can tell him everything. In the end, it takes a fight between the two of you before it happens.

“I don’t want to involve the weak.”

“...I’ll draft up another plan then.”

Any other person would have been hurt by the lies, the deception, and the manipulation. Tartaglia isn’t any other person.

He is rational and meticulous when it comes to his job as a Harbinger, and he recognizes this event as part of it. It chafes at him but ultimately he can carry on with this blight in his reputation. And that was the thing, it was supposed to be blight in his, not yours.

Not the romanticized hero Liyue made you out to be, not the upright and honorable Harbinger you are.

Tartaglia can take it. He can afford being used as a scapegoat, can weather out his role as a villain in Liyue’s history. He cannot, will not, however allow your reputation to be tarnished.

He rages, he schemes, he makes a scene but all of it is for nothing. Not when it's your scheme he is up against, not when you were so determined to make yourself a villain in this story. And for the first time, Tartaglia saw how big the gap between the two of you were. He thinks three steps ahead and you think ten.

He is no match at all and it burns him. Enough so that Zhongli had noticed and commented on it,

“Is it not better this way for you?”

“Xiansheng,” Tartaglia bites out “I’d rather not have them suffer at all.”

And it was the truth. Tartaglia would rather have his name drag through the mud than let you experience the scorn of the people you once sought to protect.

Zhongli gives him a considering look and Tartaglia does his best to settle his agitation, to be calm as you once instructed him. Eventually Zhongli speaks,

“It is their good fortune to have met you in this lifetime” He takes a sip of his tea, staring into the cup, “Have you considered the reason behind their action?”

Tartaglia thinks of the stories of the romance between you and your former almost husband. The 100 lashes that left a deep scar on your back, your eventual departure from your clan and the service of Rex Lapis. He thinks of the shape of your love and it leaves him reeling.

He leaves a mora pouch on the table and makes his way to you, to your side and he wants to beg for forgiveness, to demand you to stop because Tartaglia does not require your sacrifice.

He just wants you.

Years ago, you resigned yourself to never step foot in this place. Accepted that perhaps Liyue would never be your home from the moment everything you held dear slipped through your fingers.

But Fate was a funny thing.

Here you stood in the ancestral hall, sitting before your Father and Mother’s stone tablet. Staring blankly at the curling smoke of the incense with a heavy heart filled with regrets.

Your cousin sits beside you, the clan leader after your departure and Fú Shě’s eventual ascension.

“Uncle regretted it.”

“Mn.”

“The night before he died, he called me in his room. I wasn’t born yet when you left or when tang ge disappeared but I grew up hearing stories of you.”

You gave her a sad smile.

She laughs it off, a rare personality among your reticent clansmen, it was a welcome one, “You were somewhere between a cautionary tale and someone to look up to. The clan elders said that your love was the perfect example of what it means to love deeply and what it means to suffer for it.”

You watch her twiddle her thumbs, exhale and continue on, “Uncle told me that if one day you returned, he wanted you to be written back to the clan genealogy. He regretted punishing you for what you did. That he made it seem like you had to leave with nothing on you except your savings.”

“We are cultivators, I would have survived nonetheless with my meager savings.”

“You shouldn’t have” She insists, and their is righteousness in her eyes, in her conduct, in her bones, that empathizes with the people “I can’t condone you for killing 100 of our clan elders but I can understand why you did what you have to do.”

You smiled at her, feeling the knot in your heart disappear. Because this was what you had wanted back then, when faced with the option to uphold your duty or abandon your beloved. You just wanted to be understood for your actions, to not be painted in any other light beyond loving someone deeply. There was no righteousness or depravity.

There was only you seeing your beloved suffering persecution and wanting to save them.

“Thank you.”

She smiles at you and just like that years of grievances are put to rest. There is no father, no mother, or brother to return to but your heart is at ease and free of suffering. You look at your cousin, the clan leader, and asked her,

“What should I call you?”

She smiled and answered, “Birth name Xīnjiān, courtesy name Zhīyuàn.”

“Xīnjiān to have a strong heart, and Zhīyuàn to know peace” You showed your appreciation for her name, praising it, “This clearly shows your parents' wishes for you. To have a heart that never wavers and to always be at peace.”

You look up to your parents' stone tablet, at your brother’s mini statue and silently bid them farewell and an apology. To your cousin you say, “The clan is in good hands, with you at the helm even the disappearance of Rex Lapis would not hinder the clan's future.”

This time you leave your clan home, not with a barely healed back, a broken heart and grim determination. Instead you step out of the gate with your back straight and head held high, your robes are still red, your forehead ribbon still bearing the golden qingxin.

You are welcome to return but you knew deep in your heart that your home lies elsewhere. There was no need to have your tarnished reputation to blacken your clan’s doors.

You slowly walk your way down, the golden gingko leaves falling as the winds rustle the branches. You think of your past, the choices you made and the choices you will make. Despite the uncertainty of what the future holds your footsteps are light as you walk down the thousand steps of your former home.

“Our clan loves deeply,” Your father once said, voice somber and looking at a painting of a mother you’ve never met “almost like a curse.”

And then he turned to you with a smile, equal parts sad and happy, “but with the right person it is a blessing.”

“Bàbà, what do you mean?”

“It means that with the right person our love would not cause suffering either to us or to our spouse.”

Tartaglia stood at the bottom of the stairs looking up to you, and then he ran up the stairs meeting you halfway and closing the gap between the two of you.

You understood then what your father had meant, that day in his study.

At the end of it all, Tartaglia asks the one question he had always feared,

“Do you still love him?”

You clutch his hand tight and answered, “Always. But it doesn’t mean I don’t love you either.”

Tartaglia doesn’t speak.

“I’ll always love him, but it isn’t the same way as it was then. I used to think that I’d never be able to love again, that my time had stopped when they died,” You’re too afraid to look at Tartaglia so you settle your sights on the scenery in front of you “and then I met you. Without realizing it, my time started moving forward and this heart of mine started beating again.”

You smiled and intertwined his fingers with yours, hands tightly clasped together as if fearing separation.

“To have met you, in the lowest point of my life, is my greatest fortune.”

And it was the truth. You didn’t know what you would have done if Tartaglia hadn’t appeared in your life that day. If he hadn’t pestered you.

He pulls you back to him and you let yourself be pulled, crashing into his chest.

“I love you” He declares “I want to spend everyday with you, crossing swords with you, I want to be the first thing you see in the morning and the last thing you see at night.”

He lifts your face, hand gently holding it and stares deep into your golden eyes and bares his heart out for you, “I don’t need you to sacrifice yourself for me, I just want you.”

You looked at him with astonishment, your face burning bright red from his admission.

“Columbina, back then I’ve always wanted to sleep with you!”

The two of you stood at the other end of the terrace occupied by Zhongli and the Traveler. You could bear to look at him, not when your head felt light and your heart felt like it could fly up any moment. Not when it felt like you can ascend right now from the sheer happiness of Tartaglia loving you back.

“I’ve never been in love before. I-I know that I can’t compare to him but for me it has only ever been you! I love you, I fancy you, I cherish you! I want you more than I want to dominate the world! I can’t live without you!”

“...”

Tartaglia took your hand and placed it on his chest, above his heart, “You told me once, if I can’t tell by the face then listen to the heart. Then listen to mine. I want to do it with you every day. This isn’t just me joking or a momentary fancy. I just love you so much that I want to sleep with you, I can’t feel this way towards anyone else but you!”

Through his warm chest, and rough fabric of his uniform, you felt the rapid beating of his heart.

“Columbina, I want to do everything with you, you can do anything to me and I’d accept it as long as you’re willing!”

“...willing…” You mumbled, head bent and hair covering the sides of your face.

“That’s right! I’m willing to accept anything you do to me!”

You stepped closer to him, curling up in his arms and Tartaglia saw the red tip of your ears and slowly, ever so slowly it dawned on him as you spoke clearly with a slight tremble in your voice,

“I am willing.”

You smiled, soft and small that one would almost think they were seeing things but they weren’t. Even as an adeptus you had rarely smiled, few people over the course of your life had seen you smile. They could even be counted on one hand.

But today, Tartaglia saw you smile like a glaze lily that was unfurling its petals at night.

Zhongli, the Traveler, Paimon, and countless others who were looking your way were stunned into silence. No one expected to see you smile after Osial’s release, and the Qixing’s announcement.

【Folklore】

There is a famous statue of lovers in Liyue and Snezhnaya, two immortals facing each other, one holding a forehead ribbon on his hand and the other holding the other immortal’s hand on his.

The two statues depicted Tartaglia the Warrior, and Hǎiān Xuězhù Zhēnjūn. It is said that worshiping one statue alone would bring misfortune. Don’t believe it? Then rub the forehead ribbon on Tartaglia’s hand, kowtow three times to Hǎiān Xuězhù Zhēnjūn and then propose to your lover only to get turned down.

Or buy a lottery ticket, rub Tartaglia’s hand and then wait for the results only to miss out on the jackpot. Therefore, if one wasn’t particular in worshipping the two it was better to stay away from them and just show your respects from afar.

However, if you were to worship them both together, offer them a cup of nuptial wine then a miracle would happen. The two would expel each other’s misfortune and bring forth twice the fortune.

Legends say that the reason for this was that the two immortals had loved each other deeply, Hǎiān Xuězhù Zhēnjūn was said to be willingly sacrifice himself for Tartaglia, and Tartaglia was said to be unwilling in letting his beloved suffer. Therefore, to worship one over the other was to deny their deep love for the other, conversely to worship both together was to acknowledge their deep love for each other.

Therefore regardless of station in life, many would come to worship Hǎiān Xuězhù Zhēnjūn and Tartaglia together, but most common among them were lovers and people who were heartbroken. This was because it was well-known, most especially in Snezhnaya and Liyue, that the two were fated to each other.

It was the reason why the common depiction of the two was facing each other, ten fingers clasped together with Hǎiān Xuězhù Zhēnjūn red forehead ribbon intertwined in between their fingers.

#genshin impact childe x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact x reader

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