#the fact that he's soft and kind and owns his own business but is humble

[thevirgincherry]

LOVEY-DOVEY !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. ddlg, daddy dom/little girl duhh, leon feeling guilty for no reason, age gap, princess parts used once, an abundance of pet names, honestly just icky sappy smut, typical stuff like penetration n oral, praise kink

note. haiii :3 so insanely embarrassed to post this it’s insanely icky and soft for me .. but ignore typos as always :333 rbs n feedback greatly appreciated :33 crossposted on my ao3 clitkiss as usual, this is like very.. ddlg like he dresses u at one point but it’s only mentioned briefly

stocking filler

You and Leon are trying something new. Now, he’s no stranger to it, his moonlight trysts with Pornhub show that he’s an expert at it in fact. But that was back in his late twenties. Op in Spain made his brain go funny, and maybe it’s ‘cause Ashley is the perfect subject for it - DDLG that is. She batted her lashes up at, clung to his arms, and she needed him, relied on him. In turn, he spent his days balls deep in videos like Daddy’s Little Girl Punished For Staying Up Past 8 PM, and even classier ones like Big Cock Daddy Fucks Tiny Tit Teen Girlfriend Till She Squirts (ANAL + THROATFUCKING)! Even the occasional Step-Daughter Chokes On Step-Daddy’s Fat Cock While Mommy Sleeps! Very tasteful, very nuanced, very discreet. So yeah, not to brag, but Leon’s kind of a porn connoisseur. Dabbled in every category.

The DDLG thing got boxed up and shelved away quick. Made him feel guilty, post-nut clarity set in the second he’d milked himself dry. Then he’d lay there for hours with a sticky palm and a heavy heart. Hasn’t thought about it in years, these days Leon’s more into Busty Dom Mommy Pegs Scrawny, Ugly, Sissy Slut In Business Suit! and if he’s really feeling up for it Stupid Fucking Bitch Takes Two Dicks At Once! The titular bitch actually only took one dick at a time despite the two dicks present, quite misleading in his humble opinion. No more creepy daddy stuff though. Those days are over; he hasn’t thought about it in twenty years give or take. Claire sent him this ‘Get porn sites taken down for women blah blah blah’ petition, he signed it, clicked out of the tab and got down to watching some silly slut get fucked within an inch of her life.

It’s more of a boredom thing. Honest. Leon watches porn to fill in gaps of space throughout his day; he nods his head thoughtfully when the man so affectionately titled Blue-Collar Bear slams into the Preppy Spoiled Twink. This is all getting away from him, the point is, Leon hasn’t thought about the dreaded topic of DDLG for literal decades. Then you walk in, and Leon’s sat there listening to you prattle on about Pompompurin and Chococat, an entire lineup of characters that he now knows off by heart.

Oh, is that right, sweetheart? Cinnamoroll’s a puppy, not a bunny? Wow, I didn’t know that, baby, fascinating ain’t it? Miffy‘s from the Netherlands, god, she’s gotta be careful over there in Amsterdam, honey. They don’t call that place Sin City for no reason, the red light district is no joke. Oh, I see, she’s from Utrecht? Ah, guess she’s safe then, I’m glad. What’s her name? That’s your favourite, Cogimyun? That’s a mouthful, ain’t it? She looks like a cloud. No? She's not? She’s a what-? Made of wheat flour? Oh! Well, that’s real funny, baby. Bet she don’t do well on windy days.

You don’t tell him outright. But he knows. Leon tries to tell himself that you’re just like this, that you buy cutesy, girly stickers to make yourself happy, that you fill his bedroom with soft toys ‘cause you simply like ‘em, turn them around when you fuck as a joke. But it’s clear, the headspace you’re left in after sex gives it away, haven’t let the D word slip so far, Leon’s banking on it being soon though.

He pets your head before you leave the house one day, you beam up at him, apples of your cheeks rounded with how hard you're smiling. “Love you, daddy!” You chirp all too loudly, jaw dropping open a moment later at your own blunder. Then you skitter out the front door unnervingly like a deer with CWD.

Called it. Made a bet on it even. Leon takes fifty out of his savings account, owes it to himself. You looked awful upset, he sends you a message, tells you to be safe, text him when you meet your friends. You do. Somehow, even the message is clipped. Poor baby, you’re embarrassed. The colour had drained from his face when you said it. You’d noticed for sure.

You’re younger than him, much younger. Too many years younger. An age gap that makes his head spin. Leon tries not to dwell on it, but it gets real hard. Claire’s always down his throat about it. When you go out in public together, he’ll sneak a hand in your back pocket and get stared down by every passer-by. He’s been asked if he’s your dad before. Blow to his ego. Considered botox and filler for the entirety of the following week. Certainly not your dad, possibly your daddy. Now you’ve cemented that in place - you want Leon to be your daddy, and he’ll fill those shoes.

Even if it leaves a bad taste on his tongue, even if it makes his skin crawl. Leon is willing to lay down his life for you half of the time, best thing that ever happened to him, so what harm is a little DDLG gonna do? He just needs to get comfortable with it, refamiliarise himself with all the lingo. How hard could it be? The guilt? He can get over it, even if it clings to him like a festering scab.

When you come back home it’s late, he barely hears your footsteps. You’ve learnt how to make yourself scarce when returning on late nights, Leon’s a light sleeper. A jumpy one at that. He smells jasmine when you pull back the covers, the mattress dips and he turns to face you.

“Fuck!” You gasp, brows pinched together, he runs his thumb over the divot that’s formed between them. “You scared me, Leon.”

“Not that ugly am I?” He juts his bottom lip out, it pulls a laugh out of you, and that makes him smile. You were emanating gloom and doom the second you stepped into the bedroom. Clear skies now.

“Never, you’re sooo handsome.” You kiss the tip of his nose, smear pink Vaseline on it.

“You know just what I wanna hear, don’t you, baby?” Apart from daddy. He’d make the joke, but you’d likely flip out. Leon shuts his mouth. He’s gotten better at doing that lately. Must be the effect you’ve had on him. “Baby?”

“Yes?”

“About today—“

“Leon.” It’s a warning.

“Baby.”

“Leon.” Clearly you want to brush it under the rug. “It was just a slip-up, I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, so can we just drop it?” Uh, woah, someone’s defensive.

“Baby, it didn’t make me uncomfortable,” Leon strokes your cheek, his cold hands warmed by the heat of your dewy skin. It made him mildly uncomfortable. That’s ‘cause he grapples with all these I’m a dirty old man that deserves to be crucified, Claire’s right I’m a fucking cradlerobber, I should let her go, I’ll be dead by the time she’s ready to get married thoughts. You’re this pretty young thing and it makes him tremendously nervous.

“I saw your face, Leon, I’m not stupid.” You’re getting huffy now, fluffing the pillows and turning away from him.

“Babe, I was just surprised, pinky promise.” Leon sticks his pinky finger into your line of sight, there’s silence, then the sheets ruffle and you’ve lifted your hand, shorter pinky wrapping around his.

“Like, pinky swear, Leon?” You sound so small, so scared, his heart aches.

“Baby,” he coos, “light of my life, angel, apple of my fuckin’ eye, sugar, dollface,” you hang onto every word, eyes getting bigger and wider by the second, “I knew the minute you showed me those Sylvanian Families.” You smack his chest and he laughs in your face.

“You’re an asshole and I hate you so much.” When he touches your cheek again, you’re burning up, he places a kiss behind your ear. “Stupid old man.”

“C’mon, baby, you think I’m dumb? You gave them names.” The Persian Cat triplets are named Serena, Nate and Blair. From Gossip Girl of course, he didn’t know what that was. Tedious is his review. Leon thought Henry, Tommy and Jimmy were more fitting names. You didn’t understand the reference. “You buy ‘em little plates and forks and cups, they’re living better than us, baby.” And that’s a fact. You splurged on a Red Roof Country House. Far nicer than his apartment, once empty, now filled with junk like that. No, it’s not junk, it’s his baby’s stuff, trinkets that make her happy.

“What if I just liked them?” You’re glaring at him, cutely of course, everything you do is saccharine.

“Just adds up, don’t it?” Leon gives you a big, wet kiss on your pouty lips. Tastes roses. Literally. He just swallowed a bunch of pink Vaseline. “What I wanted to say ‘fore you got all pissy on me,” he swallows the lump in his throat, fuck it, how bad could it go, he’s just making his favourite girl happy, “I don’t mind tryin’ it out.”

Rules are implemented the following morning, albeit loosely. Leon doesn’t have a lot of control over things, the DSO has jurisdiction over him, got him by the balls. And in turn, Leon’s just learnt how to take it like a good bitch. You handed him a pink glitter pen and a page from your Hello Kitty notebook. Asked him so sweetly to make a general set of rules, so you know how to be a good girl for daddy. Leon sprung a boner so fast he got nauseous. And that’s not even the sex part of this arrangement. He uses his black ballpoint pen, pink glitter isn’t his thing. Plus, it doesn’t show up on the paper.

You giggle when he hands them over to you; Leon’s ears flush pink. He’ll get better at it, swear. He wants to do well for you. Wants you to feel satisfied with his quote caregiving unquote.

It starts off slow, you hand him your toothbrush in the morning, Leon blinks at you in pure and utter befuddlement. You say Ah! like you would at the dentist and he gets it. Leon sits you on the closed lid of the toilet seat, making sure to get your molars, your canines, front teeth, and all the remaining ones. Five seconds each. Or he tries at least. You’re quite meticulous in this headspace, letting out a disgruntled noise when he fails to be precise.

Then you sit on the mat while he showers, like a puppy, didn’t even notice you were there until he opened the sliding door. “Hi there, babydoll.” Leon wraps a towel around his waist, “whatcha doin’ down there?”

“Waiting for daddy.” You tell him plainly, then trail after him as he gets ready. Right. He’s gotta pick out your clothes. What if you don’t like them? You’re so fussy with your style, spend hours tossing piece after piece out of the wardrobe, stomp your feet when the blouse you wanted to wear is in the laundry. Right now, you’re totally placid, lifting your arms when he asks as he puts you in a ribbed pink sweater and the frilly skirt you’re so fond of, knee high socks per usual, Mary Janes to finish it off. Oh. Yeah. This is bad. He’s in deep. You’re too cute. He thinks he wants to be your daddy forever.

“My dad’s been wanting to see you, Leon.” Ashley’s all grown up now, which makes him feel a bit sappy. Hypocritical really, he’s got a college girl back at home calling him daddy.

Dad… Daddy, I love you, when are you coming home?

Leon blinks to clear his mind, gives Ashley a plastic smile. “How’s he been?”

“Oh, you know how it is, he got a little sick over Halloween, but that guy, he’s always up and kicking.” Ashley brings a vanity out of her pocket, reapplies her lipstick. “Overall, he’s been good.”

Good girl, am I a good girl, daddy?

Jesus Christ, get a grip, man. “I’m glad, should take a rest that guy.”

“I know!” Ashley moves her plate to the side and lays out her entire makeup case on the table, picking out mascara. When he looks closely, her round mirror is printed with a vaguely familiar cartoon bunny. “He never listens, hasn’t been President for decades and he just works and works and works. That’s why you should call, tell him to take it easy.”

“What’s her name?” Leon frowns, jabs his thumb towards the compact.

“My Melody!” She answers, grinning at him with her pearly whites.

My Melody, Kitty, Keroppi, and Mimi, did you write that down, daddy? And there’s—

“Aren’t you too old for that, Ash?” Leon raises his brow, he’s not serious though, and she can tell.

“Hey, I liked Sanrio before it was cool in 2004, okay?” She tosses it all back in her clutch. Ashley’s too nice, if it were Claire she’d bite back with Aren’t you too old for your girlfriend, loser? And that would shut him up. “It was nice seeing you, Leon, I wanna meet your girlfriend next time, she seems sweet. And don’t forget to call dad, I’ll drop his number later.”

Call dad… Daddy? Daddy.

“Leon, don’t you think Chris looks like our dad?” Claire’s hijacked the DSO break room once again, she’s in town for some TerraSave presentation thingy. He wasn’t listening. Eyes glassed over as he gazes endlessly at her phone screen.

Dad. Dada. Daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy.

“Huh?” Leon says dumbly.

Claire levels him with her stare. “You’ve been out of it today, what’s up?”

“Nothing.” He shrugs nonchalantly, wipes his clammy palms on his jeans. “Just didn’t sleep well.”

“Uh huh.” Claire’s not convinced. Shit. She totally knows. She sees right through you, Leon. She knows what dirty shit you’ve been up to, can see the shame on your face, and she’s building her case against you. “Anyway,” she begins, voice holding onto it’s suspicious edge, “I was saying, I found this photo album of our parents, doesn’t Chris look so much like dad?”

Daddy. Daddy. Daddy. Fuck. He needs a lobotomy. Stat. This is taking over his fucking life. A sizable chunk of his brain was removed in his sleep, and it’s been replaced by pink mushy goo. Different to the pinkish brain matter that resides inside one’s head. More a glittery pink goop that morphs into the shape of you. You’re jumping around in there, sliding down the sulci and fissures in his brain, lodging yourself deep in his mind. Making it your playground.

“You’re fucking impossible to talk to, Leon. You know that?” What’d you say Claire? He can’t hear you over the impossibly disgusting, perverted thoughts running through his mind.

The second he gets home, Leon is on you. Face between your tits, knee keeping your thighs open, kissing you breathless. “Daddy!” You giggle, delighted by the wave of affection.

“Babydoll,” Leon rubs his stubble against your cheeks to hear you squeal, “Daddy missed you so much.”

“I missed daddy sooo much too!”

“Oh, yeah? How much did you miss daddy?”

You stretch your arms as wide as they go. “This much, daddy!” Fuck. Holy fucking shit. He needs to start going to weekly mass again.

“Yeah?” Leon peppers kisses all over your little face, forehead to your neck, “what’d ya get up to?”

“Mmm,” you hum, tapping a finger against your lip thoughtfully, “coloured, ate ‘n got sleepy, daddy.”

“What an eventful day that is, baby.” Leon kisses your nose. “You colour something for daddy?” He needs to put his dick in you before he explodes.

“Mhm,” your lashes flutter when he sneaks a hand up your loose sweater, hanging off your shoulders, swallowing you up, “I put it in daddy’s office…” Your breath hitches when he rolls your pebbled nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Daddy’s gonna hang it on the fridge tonight then.” Leon mumbles, too busy shoving his naughty hand down your pyjama shorts, cupping your mound. Your fingers tremble as you lift the hem of your sweater, baring your tits for him, he takes your nipple into his mouth. Bites down to hear you gasp. Latches on like a damn baby, groping the other tit roughly.

“Daddy,” you whimper, and the sound alone makes his dick twitch. Leon pulls off with a pop, spit dripping down his chin.

“I know, baby,” Leon coos, “daddy’s gonna take care of you.” Dirty old man! blares Claire’s voice in the back of his mind. Leon can’t find it in himself to care. Watch this, bitch. “You want daddy to play with your princess parts, babydoll?” You heard that right, princess parts. He’s been sucked in that deep.

You nod, brows pinched together as you bunch up the sheets in your curled fists. Leon clicks his tongue, presses a kiss below your belly button. “Words, baby.” He reminds you, his tone delicate, only lightly chiding.

“Need daddy… need him to play with me,” it’s barely a mumble, but Leon takes it. He knows how jumbled your head gets in this mindset. Poor baby, play with your clit and it turns you all stupid.

Leon gets to work. He’s been waiting for it all day, to get his mouth on this perfect cunt. He spreads you out, urges you to go wider, as far as you can. Licks over the fabric of your cotton panties, his nose nestled against your swollen clit, sucking on the wet patch on the gusset. The constant nudge of his nose against your clit is making you antsy, your chest rises and falls, your fingers itch to tug at his hair, but you’re an obedient girl so you keep them down by your sides. Clutch at the sheets till your nails break.

He continues to lick and suck at your leaky centre through the fabric for an eternity. You have your complaints, but you can’t say no to daddy. That’s, like, against the rules. So Leon has his fun, maybe a little too much fun. You let out a strained noise, and enough is enough, you’re being so good for him, so patient. His little girl deserves a treat. Once you’ve creamed your panties that is.

“God,” you toss your head back and melt when his tongue flattens over your bare folds, he’d thrown your panties into the laundry basket a minute prior, good aim.

“Hey, give me some credit, baby,” Leon takes a break from tongueing you down, “God’s not doing shit down here, it’s all your daddy.”

That makes you giggle. Then you call out daddy so sweetly his brain blanks. He spits on your sticky core, you’re wet enough, but Leon likes it sloppy, wants to feel your mess dripping down his chin. His teeth scrape your clit, pulls the hood back, kitten licks it, kisses it three times for good luck.

“Don’t cover your mouth, baby,” Leon places a big hand on your hip, holds you in place, “Daddy didn’t say you could do that.”

“Sorry… ‘M sorry, daddy,” you whine, the hand once clasped over your mouth falling limp, and you’re moaning like a fucking pornstar. He can’t handle it. That word does something to him, something evil and degenerate.

He pushes your cushiony lips together, pinches your clit when it sticks out, makes the nastiest sounds known to mankind. Messy eater. Schlurping, schmacking, gulping. What he’s gulping down? God knows. Two fingers slip into you, knuckle-deep, wriggle around, scissor you open, his palm mashed into your clit. Leon’s face is resting on your plush thigh, admiring his own handiwork. Your slick cunt, drooling all down his wrist, covered his face in it, now you're cumming in messy spurts.

“Atta girl,” Leon croons, lays it on thick with the praise ‘cause he knows you get shy about this, “that’s right, dollface, just let it all out for, daddy, huh?”

Panting, you curl into yourself, kick your legs a little when his nimble fingers find your sticky clit, he can feel you throbbing. “No more, daddy.” You beg, rubbed raw from the back-to-back orgasms.

“Too much, baby?” Leon’s hand comes to cop a feel, his nose pressing into the nape of your neck. “Can you get daddy off?”

The energy seems to zap back into you within an instant. You nod, head bobbing up and down like it should be doing on his dick. You love having your mouth full, keep his cock down your throat till you go numb. Suckle on it with pride and integrity. You gaze up at him with those eyes, heart-shaped pupils and all, blowjob eyes.

“How’d you want daddy?” Leon asks, you roll over, laying flat on your back, you want him like that? Alright, naughty girl. With your head between his meaty thighs, Leon guides his weeping tip past your swollen lips, you lap at the slit, collecting droplets of his precum on your tongue.

“Shit,” Leon gets out through gritted teeth, covers it with a cough, he shouldn’t really be saying bad words, not setting a good example for his baby. The suction is crazy, feels like he stuck his dick into the tube of a vacuum cleaner. Your cheeks hollow out as he thrusts his hips forwards, tip hitting the back of your throat, making you gag each time. Still take it like a champ though. You always do, his good fucking girl. “Doin’ so damn well, baby, makin’ daddy cum.”

Your little hand comes to rest on his abdomen, Leon eases up, lets his fat cock slip out of your mouth, he thinks you’ve had enough, but you go for his balls instead. Open your mouth wide as you try to fit ‘em in your mouth. “No chance, baby.” Leon smiles, patting your head, you lick along the seam and his dick is fucking throbbing. Hail fucking Mary. “Not gonna last, babydoll, can daddy fuck you now or ya need a break?”

You nod, he raises a brow, “No, daddy, I’m fine, daddy. Need daddy in me so bad.” You croak out, throat sore from the time spent with his cock lodged in your windpipe.

That makes him groan. The non-explicit dirty talk is fuckin’ weird, turns him on in ways he can’t explain. He loves when you avoid saying the word pussy, can’t say cock, makes it sound even dirtier. Maybe it’s the control aspect. You can’t say those words ‘cause daddy said so, ‘cause Leon said so.

His dick jumps the second he tries to slide in, bumps against your sensitive clit, shit, that hasn’t happened since he was twenty. Leon grabs your ankles, kisses one before he throws them over his shoulders, uses one hand to guide his dick to your sloppy hole and the other is intertwined with your smaller one. Tender, sappy, sweet. Oh, don’t make him tear up, princess. With age he’s softened up. For you Leon has softened up. Brought back part of who he was before it all went wrong.

“My pretty girl,” he pets your cheek like he does the neighbour’s well-fed cat, and you lean into it all the same. He fills you up so well. No matter how much Leon plays with your pussy, there’s always a stretch, and he can tell by the look on your face. Nose scrunching, lips parting, letting out a sharp breath as the weight of his cock knocks against your cervix. “All done, baby.” Leon tells you, and you open your eyes, sit up on your elbows to see where the two of you meet in a sticky, squelching embrace. “Well done, baby, you’re such a big girl, takin’ all of daddy, aren’t you?” Leon presses his hand down on your lower tummy, his cock angles upwards so he can hit that spongy spot deep inside, the one that makes you sob. “Is it there?”

The cry you let out is the confirmation he needs. He bullies his cock into you, fucks you rough ‘cause he loves you. Making love is for mornings, when you’re sleepy and pliant, nasty fucking is for after work. When he’s pent up, when you’ve been on his mind all day. Leon pulls out, only his tip keeping your cunt spread open, then he slams back in, and you begin to sniffle, squeezing his hand so tight you cut off his blood circulation.

“Daddy,” You drop his hand, nails clawing down his back, his lonely hand suffering from a severe case of pins and needles, “daddy, daddy, daddy— oh, daddy!” It’s the only thing you can say. Stuffed your cunt and your head is full of him too. Leon adores you. Prettiest girl in the whole world and you’re here speared on his cock. Dexterous fingers find your clit once more, helping you reach the edge.

“You can do it, baby, don’t worry, daddy’s here.” Leon dips his head down, kisses you and swallows up your sounds, stringy spit keeping the two of you connected. Red string of fate or whatever. “Daddy’s right here, daddy loves you.”

All it took was the L word, and you’re squirting. Pushing his cock out, dripping down his heavy balls, digging your nails into his back, chanting daddy like your life depends on it. And Leon can’t take it, he’s been ready to bust the second he got home, his stomach contracts, spills his seed into your wet cunt. Messy just how he likes it.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Leon lets his full weight drop on top of you.

You grunt softly, “Heavy, daddy.”

“Yeah, I know, gimme a second.” Leon grumbles, teeth tugging on your earlobe. “How’d you rate me? Five stars? Ten out of ten?”

You yawn into his hair, “Stop bein’ silly, daddy.”

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader

[circeyoru]

Collection of Overlords _ Part 3 = Requested

[Alastor x Soul Owner of All Overlords!Reader]

Related Ask (1) + (2)

Part 1 — Part 1.5 — Part 2 — Part 3 (here)

On the appointed day, you dressed your best and made sure everything was right. Then you sat at the balcony that overlooked the entrance of the hotel, enjoying your drink with a hum. You were pleasantly surprised when Alastor joined you with a plate of traditional breakfast platter, just as you like it but never spend the time to make

The two of you enjoyed a peaceful morning together, until a little argument got too heated between a hotel guest and an outsider. Alastor swiftly got up and bowed to excuse himself, working as the host of the hotel, he needed to handle the issue since Charlie was a bit of a pushover and not quite convincing when it came to breaking off fights

It led you to wonder if you should give Charlie some pointers like you did to her parents, but then you recalled how Vaggie, Charlie’s girlfriend, was by her side. You’ll admit that they have quite the unique dynamic in their relationship and not in the bad way. So you decided against it and let things go as they please

With a miniture earthquake and some screaming, the argument seemed to be handled well. Not long after that thought, Alastor had returned to your side. Both of you enjoyed your time together again, before you decided it would be fun to drop in on Camilla, not that she’d be preparing when it’s this late

Alastor offered you his hand with a bow, you rose from your seat and gave him your hand. A portal opened beneath you two and the both of you emerged on the other side in the blink of an eye

“Who dares to enter—! My Liege!” Carmilla caught herself half way when she looked over to see you and Alastor arrive earlier than expected, “Welcome to my humble abored. I hope this is satisfactory.”

“I sprung this onto you, so it’s okay.” You turned your head to her, removing your hand from Alastor’s while a small but soft smile played on your face. With your closed eyes, it gave you such a look of elegance that Carmilla strived to be.

“You’re too kind.” Carmilla bowed to you in greeting. 

“How are your daughters? I heard you’ve survived quite the ordeal last last extermination.” You inquired, your smile widening just a smidge. 

Carmilla flinched, though it wasn’t the fact that you knew since she did tell you about killing an angel and what to do if it got out. It was more on the sense that you were showing care to lesser individuals, as much as she hated to admit. “They are fine. Would you like to see them?”

You hummed, “Of course.”

Not even a second later, Carmilla’s daughter duo came out from whatever hiding spot they were at. Odette and Clara both gave you a bow of their own style, though still respectful. “Collector! It’s good to see you again!”

You raised their heads by the chin, then rubbing their heads with a chuckle, “Look at you two, still fun sized. You’re as beautiful as your mother, you know?”

Carmilla blushed while Alastor gave her a teasing grin. Meanwhile, Odette and Clara chuckled along with you. “Thanks!”

You turned to the Overlord, “Now, we have time, why not chat a bit? Tell me about your business.”

Carmilla Carmine was your first female and second Overlord that you came into contract with. She was by far one of the more successful souls that you favour and support from the shadows. Her initial deal was the right to make business ventures to other Rings of Hell in exchange for your ownership of her soul

It later changed when she knew angelic weapons can be wielded. For additional protection that would extend to lesser demons, namely her two daughters, she gave you a range of modified angelic weapons and crafted your Cages with angelic steel. Of course, with Carmilla’s successful, you later continued to support her and protect her daughters from danger

Passing along a card to Odette and Clara that holds the power to summon you in times of need no matter the case. Good acts are rewards, Carmilla learned, you weren’t at all evil to the core or cruel to abuse your owned souls like other would, that’s what she admired about you

Before your absence, you would hang out with her and her daughters on days to discuss about business opportunities and how business was going in the other Rings since it was hard for Carmilla to receive feedback like that

In fact, that day, they were trying to find you, only to end up being cornered by exterminators. While Odette and Clara wanted to summon you to their aid, Carmilla made them hold off. She was present, she can protect them and show you they weren’t weak. So she did what you had suggested before, to actually test out her weapons on the intented targets

You were overjoyed when you first heard the news. An Overlord had actually managed to kill angels and it was done while protecting others. You truly didn’t waste your time and energy on Carmilla, that’s for sure

Yet you wonder why Carmilla was still insecure about her position as one of the Elites that you’d never give up. She can’t be threatened when she has such success in her domain; the best Weapons’ Dealer of Hell

“I desire I wasn’t late to greeteth thee, mine own Liege. (I hope I wasn’t late to greet you, My Liege.)” Zestial greeted with a bow. 

You waved your hand, by now you have returned to the meeting room with Alastor stationed behind you by your left side. “No, no. I was early. Wanted to catch up with Carmilla, you see.”

Zestial took the seat to your right and next to Carmilla who had already left his seat empty, “T hath felt as though t hast been ages since we lasteth did talk. (It felt as though it has been ages since we last talked.)”

Zestial was your first and oldest Overlord by far. He maintained his spot at the top of your collection with ease. With his fearful reputation before your support, he was one to be reckoned with

It seems that his knowledge of Hell and wisdom served him well, as he was the one to seek you out when you were first on the hunt for potential Overlords to crown and give your support to. He offered himself to you wholeheartedly and obediently, something you didn’t expect someone of his caliber to do so. Yet it proves that he was knowledgable not to cross you

His humble nature earned your good graces. You offered him support and protection to which he agreed without much thought. Funny how he never asked for more as he was someone deserving of more. So you gave him a fearsome authority that makes sinners and demons alike trumble in fear in his presence

During your time of weeding out the weaker Overlords, it was with his knowledge that you overturned the system the sinners so ignorantly constructed without power or authority. To this day, you didn’t think your ‘Overlord rank’ planning would be this smooth if not thanks to Zestial

Needless to say, he was also another soul you won’t let go

“Oh, My lovely darling Liege! It’s been so long! Where have you been?! Oh, you’re always so mysterious!” Rosie greeted with a bow and a half curtsy to you, she came to your left side, setting her umbrella on the second empty seat as the first was for Alastor should he be told to sit. Then she opened a box and showed it to you, “A gift from Cannibal Town~! Prepared it myself, your favourites.”

“Thank you, Rosie. You know my taste well.” You smile, picking up the demon parts before nibbling on it, savouring the taste. “It’s wonderful. Tell me, how’s your town after the battle with Heaven?”

“Everyone had their fill, Alastor did me no wrong.” Rosie winked in Alastor’s direction who smiled back. “We’re all happy to be able to help out.”

Rosie was your third Overlord to form a contract with. Her record was quite perfect and ideal too, the leader of the Cannibals. At the time, she was a ringleader, sure. But she lacked the territory to provide for the other Cannibals, so you provided and supported. The moment the deal was signed, a town was constructed to be named as her domain

You’ll say, they were quite the nice ones, save for the devouring other demons. Rosie’s territory had to be one of the more respectful and disciplined ones that you love. You lament on the fact that Rosie wasn’t the violent type, though it’s a relief as well perhaps

“My Sovereign!” Zeezi bursted in, immediately bowing, “Sorry, I would have been here earlier but some pucks was trying to get in and I have to teach them a lesson!”

“It’s all well, the meeting has yet to start.” You eased Zeezi’s rushed thoughts.

Zeezi bowed her head as a nod, taking her seat next to Rosie. “Right.”

Zeezi was the largest within your Overlord Collection and the most physical one. Whenever it was a more violent and brutal ordeal you needed taken clear of, she was the Overlord you call upon. Unlike those that came before her, she was more free spirited and you let her keep that element of hers

At first, she was hestitant to submit to your service, but you’ve showed her there was now to power than violence and brute force that she displays and revolves around. She pride herself as the strongest Overlord with great physical strength. Maybe she’ll win against another Overlord, but not you. As easily as squashing a bug, you had her pinned

In return for her soul, you offer her strength and authority, as well as your support in her rise and maintance as an Overlord. She was smart to take the deal without a need for a beatdown, while you’re delighted to provide, you didn’t want to damage your soul

“The Witching Hour is almost upon us.” You spoke. It was an indirect question to ask who was still not in attendance. 

Everyone turned to the opposite side of the table from where you sat, the three empty seats for the only grouped Overlords. Alastor suggested, “Perhaps they don’t want to attend.”

“Or their representative is running late.” Carmilla hissed, an obvious scowl on her face. 

The doors suddenly bursted open, though even more force as opposed to Zeezi’s entrance. However, they appear to be still in their little world.

“I told you it’s this way but you didn’t even listen!” Velvette shouted.

“How was I supposed to know? It’s all the same!” Valentino exclaimed back.

Alastor cleared his throat rather loudly, bringing the Vees’ attention to the room they’ve entered. “Quite brazen of you to not greet our Liege.”

Vox flinched, immediately passing by the other Overlords and stood to your side, he bowed repeated as he apologized, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I was just trying to make sure you’re safe! It’s nothing like stalking! Really! Trust me! I’d never—!”

“Damnit! Stop apologizing so much!” Velvette came over to slap Vox in the back of his screen head, making her partner glitch and malfunction. Velvette pulled back Vox till they were next to Valentino, she silently whispered but everyone could hear as clear as day, “One, two, three…”

“We greet our Master.” The Vees all bowed, finally greeting you.

You hummed, head tilted a bit, “Arriving the last and creating a scene, you three almost amuse me so.” Your eyes peeked open a bit, “Not in a good way.” A chill ran down the three’s back while Alastor had a smug smile directed to them, especially at Vox, and the other Overlords remained quiet but were internally grinning. “Now sit down.”

“Yes…”

And then there were the Vees, the last to add to your collection and the most disappointing souls by far. They are strong in their own rights, yet they require the other two to boost their power. You were already able to do so, why would they prefer each other more? It was in a way insulting. However, you’d rather they be under your thumb than them running amok in the Pride Ring

It’s times like these where you wonder if Husk would make a better Overlord than them if he learnt his lesson

With Vox, he was trying to please you while also trying to appear better than Alastor. In your opinion, if he had focused more on himself and his strength, he could go places. Yet he opted to working with the other two

With Velvette, she was a strong lady, no doubt. Similar to Zeezi, but more chaotic and destructive. She doesn’t take criticism well, more focused on her own perspective and views. Nothing wrong in that sense, but it limits her capacity for more. She could have been so much more

With Valentino, oh, you don’t even know where to start. You honestly believe he’s a total lost cause. While believing so, your fear tactic worked to perfection. Your dissatifaction and anger was the first thing he avoids. Usually, he’s very very outspoken, but when you were around, he was more careful. Though that doesn’t account for his actions and behaviours when you were out of sight

You clapped your hands together, your eyes closing once more. All your Elites were here and accounted for, all three levels seated as you’d like. All the souls that you own have gathered before you once again. “Let’s begin the reunion of an afterlife time.”

Note: Still not the exact meeting yet, but the drama is gonna happen next one! I think this one might be a bit boring cause I'm laying out the relationship. Oh well~

Circe Y.

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[onceuponastory]

a true hero - bucky barnes x reader

Plot: When Princess Y/N is taken by a dragon, Bucky Barnes, her best friend and a humble blacksmith, joins the royal guard in their quest to help rescue her. Pairing: Blacksmith!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader Warnings: People and horses being killed by a dragon, ableism towards Bucky and his metal arm, injuries (nothing too graphic), classism, John Walker being an asshole, and Bucky doubting himself because of it. As always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know! Notes: This is another piece for @buckybarnesevents Alternate June-iverse Connect Four event! I combined the two squares Mythology and Royalty. This could also fit the Fairytale square, but I have a separate idea planned for that, (wink wink). This is based on a Scottish myth/legend. I just reworked it a little for this fic and gave it a slightly happier ending.

Not beta’d, so any mistakes are my own.

One spring morning, Bucky Barnes is hard at work. Sweat drips from his forehead, both due to the fire and his fast work. His work as the kingdom’s blacksmith keeps him busy, whether it’s making horseshoes for the local farmers, or new swords for the royal guard. He inherited the shop from his father a decade ago, and has since transformed it into a successful business. 

“Hello Bucky.” A familiar, soft voice speaks. Bucky gasps, quickly wiping the sweat from his brow and hoping he doesn’t have any dirt on his face. Not that Princess Y/N would care, though. She’s always been so kind to him, despite the difference in their upbringings and social classes. She’ll make a great Queen someday.

“Your highness.” Bucky murmurs, dropping into a bow. Y/N chuckles.

“Please, Bucky. I’ve told you plenty of times that you don’t need to call me that. After all, you’ve known me for long enough. Y/N is fine.” She’s right. The pair are the same age, and have known each other for most of their lives. Ever since a young Y/N visited Bucky’s father’s workshop with her father, and made a point of introducing herself to him. Since that day, Y/N always visits him whenever she can, either at his workshop or when he delivers weapons to the royal guards. Bucky knows that most people in the kingdom are wondering what a Princess would have in common with a blacksmith… and honestly, sometimes he wonders that too. Surely a well travelled, fancy Lord or Prince is more interesting than spending time with him. But Y/N never seems to have thought that, or judged him for what he does. In fact, he swears he could tell her the entire process of making a sword, and she’d still hang onto his every word.

“W-What are you doing here?” He chuckles, hating how tongue tied he suddenly is. 

“Well, I’m visiting the local library, and I had to come see you, of course. I do enjoy our visits.” She smiles. Bucky enjoys them, too. Although, that may be obvious considering the lovesick grin he has whenever she visits him. He’s been in love with Y/N for as long as he can remember. She’s the first thing he thinks of whenever he wakes up, and the last thing he thinks of when he goes to sleep. He’s never told her, though. Of course not. How could a humble blacksmith like him win a Princess' heart? 

Y/N may treat him with kindness despite their different lives, but few others would. And besides, one of those fancy Lords or Princes could give her so much more than he ever could. Y/N deserves a happy life, with everything she could ever need. And Bucky just can’t provide that. But, If being Y/N’s friend is all he’s destined to be, then that’s alright with him. Yet, he just can’t ignore how much his heart sinks when he thinks those words. “So, what have you been working on?” She asks. And then her eyes widen. “Oh, my goodness! Your arm!”

Bucky chuckles. “I finished working on the new version a few days ago.” He smiles proudly, turning his body to let Y/N see it. A few years ago, Bucky was involved in a carriage accident, and in the ensuing carnage, his left arm became trapped in the wreckage. Once he was free, the wound became infected. As soon as she found out, Y/N sent for the palace doctor, the best in the kingdom, to treat him. He advised that the arm should be removed as soon as possible, and it was. Since then, Bucky has been working on a metal prosthetic for it. His new version is still in the early stages, but he’s managed to get it moving, and it’s helping him a lot with his work.

“It’s beautiful.” She smiles. “You’ve done a wonderful job.” As Y/N gazes at his arm, her mouth dropped open with curiosity, Bucky smiles. And that same feeling he gets deep in his gut whenever he thinks about or sees Y/N returns. She saved his life that day. How could he ever repay that?

“Y/N, I-”

“Princess! Where are you?” A booming voice sounds, and Y/N’s face falls. Yet before either can say anything more, Sir John Walker storms into the workshop. Immediately, the atmosphere shifts. Sir John is one of the royal knights, sworn to protect Y/N at all costs. Although, considering how cruel and snobby he is to people who dare to even look in Y/N’s direction, both Y/N and Bucky think he may have let the role go to his head slightly. “Princess.” He sighs. “It’s not safe to wander around so freely, especially with this monster on the loose.” Sir John warns. And for once, Bucky agrees with him. For months, young women in the kingdom have been vanishing without a trace. Nobody knows who or what is responsible, whether man or beast, and the royal guard has had little to no luck finding it. Because of the threat, young women in the kingdom won't go out on their own, especially not at night. And despite how much he adores her company, Bucky doesn’t want Y/N to be the next victim. 

Although, if he could… Bucky would move heaven and earth, and stay by her side to make sure she’s protected.

“I assure you, Sir John, I am quite safe.” She insists, brushing off his concerns with a wave of her hand.

“You are out here, alone-“

“Bucky is here.” She snaps, her soft voice suddenly laced with anger. Even Bucky is surprised to hear it. “And I trust him.” Her words cause heat to settle on Bucky’s cheeks. Heat not caused by the fire this time. 

“Well Princess, I’d still insist that you don’t wander off from your guards again.” John huffs. And then, his disapproving gaze fixes on Bucky, and his eyes narrow. “After all…who knows what trouble you could encounter?” Bucky’s stomach drops, and he tries to ignore John’s words. Yet, it’s difficult. When he said most people in the kingdom must wonder what he and Y/N could have in common… John is absolutely that sort of person. “Now, come on. Your father requests your presence at the library.”

“Sorry.” Y/N whispers, bidding Bucky goodbye with a small wave of her hand. Bucky nods, returning the wave. Yet, after Y/N leaves, John stays for a moment, continuing to walk around Bucky’s workshop in silence.

“Is there an issue, Sir John?” Bucky asks, both to break the awkward silence, and in the hopes it pushes him to leave. Scoffing, John steps closer. As his body turns, he almost flexes the royal crest on his shoulder, reminding Bucky of the power imbalance between them. 

“Princess Y/N may be too kind to say it, but I am not. If I were you…I’d take some time to remember my place.” He whispers, spitting out the last word like it’s venom. 

“I’ve known her since we were young, John. If she wants to see me, she has every right to.” Bucky replies, clenching his jaw. He stands tall and defensive, to show John he doesn’t care about his words. But all he’s doing is reinforcing the same things Bucky tells himself all the time.

He doesn’t fit in. 

Y/N’s only being kind, and doesn’t really care about him.

The second she finds someone new, someone worthy of her status, she’ll forget about him.

“Don’t let him get to you.” He thinks. “He’s just a horrible person. Y/N cares about you, you know she does. That’s all that matters.”

“You’re just a lowly blacksmith. You don’t fit into this world.” John hisses. “The sooner you learn that, and stay away from her, the better.” And with that, he stalks out of the workshop, back to Y/N. As soon as he’s gone, Bucky sighs, his rigid, defensive posture collapsing. He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated.

“Dammit.” He hisses, leaning against the wall as he feels tears springing to his eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A few weeks later, Bucky lays asleep. The early morning sun streams in, lightly warming his face as his chest slowly rises and falls, and as he hangs on to his dream world for a little while longer. For a while, everything is quiet and at peace. Until a loud shout cuts through the morning, accompanied by the sound of hooves.

“Citizens! We have an urgent message from your King. Please come to the main square as soon as possible!” The noise immediately awakens Bucky. Moaning softly to himself, he clambers out of bed and pulls on some clothes. Still half asleep, he makes his way outside and joins the crowd of people gathering in the square. Whispers fill the air about what this emergency declaration could be, whether it’s new taxes or a war with some neighbouring kingdom. 

A member of the royal guard steps forward. Bucky recognises him. His name is Steve Rogers, and he’s a lot kinder to him than John ever was. Most notably, he treats him with respect, and like a human being, rather than looking at him like he’s muck on the bottom of his boot. As Steve approaches the crowd, the whispers about what this could be intensify. But in all honesty, Bucky doesn’t care. He just wants to go back to bed as soon as possible. 

That is, however, until he hears the announcement.

“Last night, the beast struck again. Someone spotted it, meaning we finally have visual confirmation of what it is. It’s a dragon.” Immediately, the whispers turn into a furore. Bucky raises a brow. He had heard stories of dragons as a child, but thought they were just a myth. A cautionary tale told to remind him to behave, lest he be left outside for the dragon to find him. But Steve has more to say. “And….” He takes a breath. “It’s taken Princess Y/N.” Bucky’s heart almost stops, and his mouth drops open. For a moment, he swears he could collapse from the shock. Please, god, let this be a horrible nightmare. Please let him wake up. Why didn’t he try harder, tell her to be safer, or promise to come find him if she needed help? His chest tightens, and he gasps, trying to breathe but feeling his chest constricting. All he ever wanted to do is protect her, and he failed. “We have lived in fear for long enough. We believe we know where its cave could be, and we are sending out an army to track it down. Our mission is to rescue as many people as possible. Including the Princess.” Steve explains. “But we need more support. Are there any volunteers?”

Without another thought, Bucky steps forward. “I would like to help.” Steve smiles.

“Excellent, Mister Barnes.” And then, an all too familiar voice sounds.

“And please, tell me how you, a lowly blacksmith, intend to help the royal guard?” Sir John sneers, laughing. “Do you even have any experience with swordsmanship?” Instantly, Bucky is transported back to his workshop the last time John was there, and the embarrassment he felt at how John looked at and spoke to him creeps in once more. Now, though, it’s tenfold. Of course, Bucky isn’t stupid. He knows how this must look. He’s not a knight, much less one whose sole purpose is to keep Y/N safe. And John’s right, he’s got hardly any experience in using weapons, let alone using them to kill a giant beast like a dragon. He’s just someone who loves Y/N… and isn’t that enough? 

“I want to help. I can make weapons. And I spend enough time around swords, so surely I’ll pick up sword fighting easily enough.” He explains, acutely aware of how the entire crowd is staring at him.

John glances down at Bucky’s metal arm, and scoffs. “For this mission, we require our recruits to be… fully operational, able to do whatever we need, whenever we need. I’m not sure if you’d be a suitable choice.” Right away, Bucky knows what he means, and he understands why, aside from his upbringing, John is so dead set on treating him so horribly. His arm. As if having a prosthetic makes someone any less of a hero, or prevents them from doing the right thing. Bucky’s cheeks burn with a mixture of embarrassment and anger, and tears sting at his eyes once more. How dare he? He tried so hard, all this time, to not let John’s words affect him. But now he knows that he’s judging him and viewing him as lesser because of his disability, something he cannot control… hurts him deeply. All he wants is to save Princess Y/N. Is that so wrong?

“It’s beautiful.” Her words replay in his mind, as does the look of pride and wonder she had as she looked at it. That memory makes Bucky feel even worse. The one person who stood up for him and appreciated him has been taken, and there’s no way of knowing if she’s even still alive. And they won’t even let him help rescue her.

“Sir John. Please don’t be so rude.” Sir Steve hisses. “He obviously cares for the Princess a great deal, and I do not see why his arm makes him a lesser candidate.” Bucky breathes a small sigh of relief. At least he has Sir Steve in his corner. Sir Steve turns back to Bucky, smiling. “Thank you for volunteering, Mister Barnes. You will be a fine addition to the army.” He insists, giving John a look as if to warn him not to protest further. Yet, the look John gives Bucky strikes fear into him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A few days later, the group sets off, ready to rescue the Princess and the others. Bucky glances down at the horse they gave him to ride. He’s not used to horse riding, or any part of this life. He still feels completely out of his depth. Suddenly, a memory enters his mind.

“I thought I’d find you here.” Y/N giggles, stopping in front of him. “I was out on a ride, and thought I’d come see my favourite person.” Bucky’s heart almost goes into overdrive, and his cheeks burn. “This is Chestnut.” The horse steps closer to Bucky, nuzzling into his hand slightly.

“He’s beautiful.” Bucky smiles. “I’ve never been horse riding before. Honestly, it kinda scares me a little.” He admits, but Y/N chuckles. Not mocking him, though. She never could.

“You don’t have to be afraid. It’s really quite simple when you get used to it.” Y/N laughs, letting him pet Chestnut. “I love it. But they have trained me to do this my whole life.” Bucky would love that. But to be honest, he’d love spending time with her, doing anything and everything possible. As their hands brush his coat, accidentally, their hands touch, and it sends a shockwave throughout Bucky’s entire body. So strong, so passionate that for a moment, it leaves him speechless. He registers something flickering in Y/N’s expression, and he wonders if Y/N feels the same about him. And yet, he can’t find the words to ask her, or tell her the truth. 

Bucky wishes he’d asked her now, or at least admitted his feelings. Maybe he could’ve prevented this, or at least found some way to protect her. The pit of guilt and fear continues to build deep in his gut. Y/N could be anywhere, even dying, and he does not know where.

“Maybe one day I’ll teach you how to ride.” Her last words to him that day echo in his mind.

Little did either of them know, though, where they’d be now, with Bucky riding a horse to slay a dragon and save her life. Or partnering up with Sir John Walker, of all people. Thankfully for Bucky, Sir John stays up ahead, as far away from him as possible. For now, anyway. Sir Steve’s horse soon falls into place beside Bucky’s, and Bucky finally takes a moment to relax.

“Thank you Sir.” Bucky says. “For standing up for me back there.” Sir Steve chuckles.

“Not at all. And please, call me Steve.” His face falls, his lips pressed tightly together. “I apologise for Sir John’s comments. He’s….”

“A smug asshole?” Bucky finishes, and Steve laughs. 

“Yes, very true.” He nods. “I know I can’t offer much solace, but you’re not the only person he dislikes and treats so cruelly. He doesn’t seem to like anyone aside from the Princess and her parents… although he usually sucks up to them.” He sighs. That doesn’t surprise Bucky in the slightest. After all, John strikes him as someone who wouldn’t hesitate to step on anyone to get what he wants, especially a position as the head of the Royal Guard. “Honestly, I relish the times when I get to put him in his place. Unfortunately, though, I can’t do much to get him removed. I know it cannot ease the way you feel, but I am glad you’re on this mission with us.”

“I want to do whatever I can to help.” Steve chuckles, and Bucky raises a brow.

“Bucky, you don’t have to pretend. I’ve seen the way you look at the Princess, and how deeply you care for her.” Bucky’s cheeks turn scarlet, and his eyes widen.

“I was-” Bucky stammers, expecting to be told off for flirting above his station. But instead, Steve smiles.

“Don’t worry. She speaks about you a lot, actually. And she cares deeply for you, too. Very deeply.” He winks, almost as if there’s something there. Something that Bucky has hoped and prayed was true for so long is true. His heart pounds, his mouth and eyes go even wider, and he blinks in surprise as he tries to think up a way to respond.

As the embarrassment and shock spreads throughout his body, another, warmer feeling grows too.

Hope.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After making camp for the night, the group set off again early the next morning. The atmosphere is more serious, as everyone knows how close they are to reaching the dragon’s cave, yet are unaware of what horror faces them there. Bucky is silent, his stomach churning with anxiety. He barely slept last night, sick with fear about Y/N and if she’s alright. When he did manage to fall asleep, he was awoken by a nightmare. Y/N was alone, screaming and crying out for him, but he couldn’t get to her in time. He knows this is just his mind and his anxieties about Y/N, but he still hopes to whatever higher power there is that this wasn’t a prophetic dream, and that Y/N is okay. 

The closer they get to the cave, the trees darken with soot, their branches scorched by fire. Bucky registers the hair on the back of his neck standing up. This has somehow suddenly become more real, the fact they’re dealing with a fire blowing dragon, not just a mere mortal. Suddenly, he feels far more out of his depth. Yet, he keeps going, ready to save Princess Y/N. Unfortunately, the closer they get to the cave, the more insufferable John becomes.

“When we arrive, I’ll take charge with a group of soldiers and attack this monster head on.” He insists. “And then, I’ll bring back its head, and Princess Y/N will be in my arms.” As he and his friends whisper and laugh amongst themselves, Bucky hears the words “Surely there’ll be a royal wedding soon”, and all the things John’s sure Y/N will do to thank him for saving her life. Once more, Bucky’s stomach begins to churn. This time, though, it’s for something completely different. The way John speaks about Y/N, like she’s an object just for him to possess, makes him feel sick. Like someone as loving as her would ever want to marry someone like him.

“That plan will not work.” The words leave Bucky’s mouth before he can even stop them, and John stops, turning to face him, a brow angrily raised. 

“Excuse me?” Bucky’s blood chills, but he still keeps going. 

“I think it would be better if we went slower and surprised the dragon. Or at least, planned an attack first. If we all charge in on our horses, it’s going to hear us coming and attack us all before we can get too close.” John scoffs.

“Do you truly believe a blacksmith knows more than-”

“John, please.” Steve hisses, coming to Bucky’s defence once again, much to Bucky’s relief. “Let him speak.”

“Very well.” John sneers. Yet, Steve’s defence gives Bucky more confidence, and he continues.

“Like I said, if we go in too fast and loud, it’ll notice us from miles away and be ready to kill us all before we can even strike.” He explains. “I propose we wait a while until it falls asleep. That way, we can sneak up and wound it before it has the chance to fight back.” As Bucky talks through his idea, John continues to scoff and roll his eyes, muttering things under his breath. Bucky knows he probably does sound crazy to some people, not least because John’s right, he’s not a royal guard. And deep down, he doesn’t even know if this plan will work better than John’s, or at all. But that doesn’t mean he can’t point out the flaws in John’s idea. And after so long being treated like a second-class citizen by him, Bucky’s ready to take full pleasure in doing so.

“Very well. Who believes in this plan?” John asks, and some hands in the group rise, including Steve’s. “Well. You can all sit around like sitting ducks whilst we rescue the Princess and kill the beast.” He shrugs. 

As they advance on the cave, Bucky begins to wonder if John may be right about this after all, if his idea is complete nonsense. But then, Y/N’s smile fills his mind once more. She always believed in him, even when nobody else would. And really, her support is all that matters to him.

Soon, they reach a clearing, the dragons’ cave a few metres ahead, and the group takes shelter to prepare themselves. Most stay back with Bucky, following his advice and getting ready to plan their attack. Meanwhile, John and his followers get ready to charge. “See you at the wedding.” John whispers to Bucky, smirking down at him from his horse. Bucky refrains from punching him in the face.

As John’s group charges in, Bucky and the others wait for any noise or movement. Within seconds, a roar fills the air… as does the sound of screaming. Horrible, anguished screams that chill Bucky’s entire body, the likes of which Bucky has never heard before. He also registers the sound of horse hooves, of people desperately trying to get away… but another roar sounds, and they soon stop. 

“God….” Steve gasps as the agonising screams continue. Bucky tries to cover his ears, wanting the noises to stop, but they keep going. It’s suddenly very obvious what’s happened to John and the others. And what could happen to Bucky and the others if they don’t time their attack exactly right.

He looks around the group, each of the men staring back at him, their bodies shaking and mouths wide open with fear. Even Steve looks horrified, his face pale and panicked. They look at him, seeking reassurance that this won't happen to them. And Bucky doesn’t even know what he can say.

Soon, the screaming stops. And once more, the clearing is silent.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Nightfall comes quicker than Bucky would’ve liked, but he also uses the time to refine his plan. Despite the fear still coursing through his veins, he’s determined to kill this beast and save Y/N, whatever the cost. Including the loss of his life.

“So. What shall we do?” Steve asks.

“I’m going in there.” He tells the others. “Myself.” The others protest, but Bucky shakes his head. “No. I don’t want people to get hurt, like last time. You go rescue the others. This is my plan, and I should be the one to go into danger.”

“But you can’t go alone-”

“Yes, I am. Trust me, please.” Bucky hisses. Sighing and clenching his jaw, Steve nods.

“Okay. But if you need any support, we’re helping, alright?”

When Bucky enters the cave, he’s suddenly aware of how much colder it is. He steps closer inside, trying to calm his nerves. He notices a small orange glow down the tunnel, and he follows it, knowing it’ll either lead him to the dragon, or to Y/N. With each step, his heart pounds faster and faster, and he braces himself for whatever he’s about to see. When he rounds the corner, he sees the dragon, curled up and asleep by the fire. As he stares at the beast, one much larger than he expected, he remembers all the stories he was told growing up. Of the brave knights and princes who saved the princesses from the vicious beast. He used to imagine himself like that, as a hero.

Now that he’s here, staring down the dragon all alone… it’s different. And he doesn’t feel much like a hero at all. In fact, he’s terrified.

But Bucky knows what he has to do. He grabs his sword and stabs the dragon in its side. Immediately, it awakens, roaring in pain. As it clambers up, its tail swinging wildly, Bucky ducks underneath it, striking the dragon a few more times as he does so. The dragon readies its tail once more, and Bucky jumps up, clambering onto its body. It jolts, trying to throw him off, but he keeps a grasp on its wing, holding on for dear life. The dragon runs out of the cave, trying to escape him or at least find somewhere to fight. Bucky braces himself… and strikes the beast once more, this time deep in the chest.

With one final, earth shattering screech, the dragon’s body jolts, throwing Bucky clear. He lands hard, hitting his head against the ground, which dazes him for a few seconds. Despite the pain, the last of Bucky’s adrenaline continues to flow through his veins, and he gets back up again… albeit a little more unsteady on his feet. The dragon’s tail clips him a few times, but Bucky still moves forward, raising his sword and striking the dragon a few more times. His hits do not go as deep as his previous ones, yet the beast still roars out in pain. As it staggers away, Bucky tries to follow behind, but by now, the adrenaline is starting to wane, and his head is beginning to hurt.

Yet, as Bucky falls to his knees, about to pass out, he persists. By now, he’s too weak to stand, and instead tries to crawl after the dragon. But he’s too unsteady, and collapses in a heap a few times. Each time, he gets back up, ready to keep going. Until he’s too weak to even stand.

“Bucky…” Y/N’s soft whisper enters his mind. “You have to get up. You have to help me.” 

“Y/N…” He murmurs. Even though he knows this is just a hallucination, one caused by his injuries, he can still feel her whisper against his skin, and her hand cupping his cheek.

“Help me. Please.” With one last push, Bucky pulls himself up. But he’s still too weak, and he collapses to his knees once more. And this time, he just wants to go to sleep.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” He sighs as the world starts to fade away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Some time later, Bucky comes to. He registers soft blankets and pillows surrounding him, and for a moment he wonders if he’s back home, his moment of heroism little more than a dream. Yet when he opens his eyes, wincing a little at the sudden bright lights, Steve is staring back at him. 

“Good afternoon.” He chuckles. “Don’t sit up too quickly. The palace doctor said you’re still pretty concussed, so you’re on bedrest for a while.” Slowly, everything sinks in. Palace doctor. Steve. It’s real. He really fought a dragon. But that means….

“Y/N.” Bucky gasps. Despite Steve’s instruction, he tries to get out of bed. “Where’s Y/N?”

“Princess Y/N is fine.” Steve reassures him. “She had a few scrapes and bruises, but nothing too serious. She’s resumed her royal duties.” Bucky lets out a breath, an immense relief finally off his shoulders. 

“Thank the gods.” He smiles. 

“And,” Steve continues. “You killed the dragon and saved everyone still trapped in the cave.”

“I…I did?” Bucky gasps, still in disbelief. Still wondering if this is a dream. Steve chuckles, and nods. 

“You’re a hero, Bucky.” Before Bucky can say anything more, hurried footsteps echo down the hallway. The door bursts open, and Princess Y/N rushes in. 

“Bucky!” she gasps, almost launching herself onto his bed.

“Princess, wait! You’re both still injured-” But Y/N doesn’t even listen to Steve’s words. She wraps her arms around Bucky, pulling him close to her. Despite the pain, Bucky has never been so happy to see her, or to be holding her again. She begins crying, and her body shakes.

“You saved me….” She sniffles. “I thought I’d never see you again, or make it out alive. You saved me.” As she cries, Bucky continues to hold her, stroking her back to comfort her.

“I’m so glad you’re alright.”

“Because of you, Bucky.” She sniffles. “Because of you.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As soon as Bucky is out of the palace infirmary, Y/N’s parents hold a ceremony to thank him for saving the others, including their daughter, and for killing the dragon. Bucky stands beside Steve, dressed in the royal guard’s uniform. Since his rescue mission, Y/N has personally asked that he be appointed as her personal bodyguard, something Bucky is honoured to do.

“This thing is kind of uncomfortable.” Bucky murmurs, adjusting the neckline.

“Thankfully, we don’t have to wear it all the time, but you get used to it.” Steve laughs. “It looks good on you, though. Congratulations, Buck.” Bucky grins, standing up taller as pride fills his body. Although a part of him is still convinced that this is a dream, and that he’ll wake up alone again. 

And then, Y/N enters the room, walking down the aisle towards them both. She’s dressed immaculately in her full royal attire, crown perched upon her head. She looks gorgeous, like an angel. As she approaches Bucky, her face beaming, he blushes. Bucky bows, and Y/N lifts her sword, resting it on each shoulder.

“I dub thee Sir Bucky Barnes. The new knight of the realm, and my honoured protector.” She calls, and the crowd applauds. 

Later, after the ceremony, Bucky finds Y/N standing on the balcony outside her room. “Shouldn’t you be inside enjoying your party?” She asks, chuckling.

“I wanted to check up on you. We’ve both been through a lot in the past couple of days, to say the least.” Y/N nods. Although she hasn’t spoken too much about what she went through, Bucky knows it can’t have been good. But he wants her to know that he’ll make sure that she’ll never be afraid or alone ever again. 

“Thank you for saving my life, Bucky. I could tell you that every day for the rest of my life and it would still never be enough.” Bucky shrugs.

“You saved my life too, Y/N. All those years ago, when you got the palace doctor to see me.” Y/N nods, chuckling.

“I guess we saved each other, then.” As the pair laugh together, Y/N steps closer. “Bucky?” She whispers. Before he can even reply, she reaches up, cupping his face in her hands. In an instant, Bucky knows exactly what she means. “I love you. I have for the longest time.” She gasps. Quickly, she pulls him closer, placing her lips on his in a soft, yet passionate, kiss. Bucky places his hands on her waist, deepening the kiss. The kiss is somehow even better than he imagined it. When they pull apart from each other, Y/N is beaming once more. “Wow…that was incredible.” She gasps.

“I love you too.” Bucky admits. “I was just too scared to tell you the truth because I was afraid, and I thought I didn’t fit into your world because you’re… you’re you, and I was just a blacksmith and-”

“Bucky.” Y/N chuckles, stopping his rambling. “I never cared about our different classes. To me, you’re just Bucky. You’re the most caring person I know, and you make me smile, even on my worst days. And of course, you saved my life. I love you.” She repeats, pecking his lips again, and Bucky smiles.

“I love hearing you say that.” 

“Well, I’ll tell you that every day for the rest of my life.” She grins.

“Are there any rules about a Princess dating her bodyguard?” 

“No, I don’t think so.” She giggles. “And besides, even if there were… I think I’d be able to change them.” Grinning, Bucky pulls her in for another kiss.

                                                    THE END.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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#Connect4AU #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky Barnes x female reader #bucky x Female Reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky fanfiction #marvel oneshot #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction

[artistsfuneral]

The Road to Kaer Morhen - p.2 (there's an ao3 link now!)

Ultimately Jaskier decided on buying a long coil of rope and use the leftover coin to invest in a little Good Luck charm – not that he necessarily believed in the gods, but he liked the tradition. Given the fact that he had no idea what would await him on the path it really seemed like the best choice, but in the end only time could tell how much that was the case. Purchasing the rope went without any complications. The vendor clearly eyed the puffy sleeves of his favorite red and teal doublet, but decided not to comment on it further than a raised eyebrow.

The second stall though was tended to by a young woman, who had been staring at Jaskier for quite some time now. Like most sisters of the temple of Melitele, she wore a carmine dress and white shawl to resemble the goddess. Their eyes met and the bard immediately broke into the wide smile of a professional charmer. “A wonderful morning, isn't it, sweet lass?” She giggled, holding up her hand to hide how her cheeks reddened from Jaskier's gaze. “You're not from around here, are you?” she asked, busying her brown eyes by looking anywhere but Jaskier's face, who had yet to figure out if she was indeed as shy as she acted or simply a performer like himself. “Oh you are correct indeed, I am a humble traveler on my way south,” Jaskier lied with a flourish bow. “I certainly would have remembered the name of such a bewitching young lady as yourself, had we met before.” A delighted little sound escaped her mouth and she smiled down at her fidgeting hands. “My name is Josi. I was named after a cat.”

Each and every day Jaskier was reminded why he chose a life traveling the country over sitting in an estate all day and ruling over one. While he could very vividly picture Geralt's confused face in his mind, unexpected conversations like this brought him nothing but pure joy. Meeting new people, getting to know the most random facts through a conversation and being able to connect with them one way or another made the bard happy. “That is a wonderful name, Josi. I am Dandelion the Poet, I was named after a flower.” She giggled once more, “I like dandelions. They're yellow and puffy.”

“I like them too,” he agreed, imagining for a moment how he might look in a yellow doublet with puffed shoulders and a matching hat. It had been a while since he last tailored his own stage clothing but if he was spending an unforeseeable time in a fortress in the mountains it'd indubitably give him something to do during the awfully long summer days.

“Would you like to buy something?” Josi asked sweetly, pulling him away from his thoughts and back into the town, where he was standing at a market stall. “I'd love that,” Jaskier said, smiling when the young woman nodded her head in excitement. “Say, I've been eying that blue charm ever since I saw it, would you sell it to me?” Mimicking his smile she carefully held up a beautifully crafted sachet for the bard to inspect closer. Jaskier, who was drawn in by everything bright and colorful, gently took hold of the bag and openly marveled at it. It was a saturated, bright blue and had little golden flowers and a green vine stitched into it. The embroidery was of excellent quality and the little bag carried the soft smell of lavender and lemon grass. “You can pay less for it,” Josi offered, meeting Jaskier's eyes for a short moment as if to make sure he knew that she was being honest with him. Normally he'd accepted her goodwill in a heartbeat but Jaskier would have no use for coins if he was hiding away in the wilderness. “It is quite alright, dear, I can see that this was put together with a lot of care. It's only fair I pay you the full price.”

“You're very kind, Dandelion,” Josi spoke quietly, making Jaskier's stomach swoop.

“I try to be.”

After paying with the last of his coin, Jaskier bade Josi farewell with a gentle wave of his hand and the promise to think of her the next time he saw a colorful cat.

The way back to the inn wasn't extraordinarily long, but the streets had filled with the town's people and Jaskier had to carefully navigate his way through the crowd without bumping into anyone more than necessary. Meeting the eyes of the baker he winked at the man through his shop window, before opening the wide door to the inn and slipping inside. The air in the entrance was already warm and stuffy, promising an even warmer afternoon. Much like he did with everyone else, Jaskier greeted the innkeeper with a warm smile and a wave of his hand, before making his way up the stairs and to his room.

Upon entering the bard was met with a loud yawn and the view of his companion, sitting up in bed and arms stretched towards the ceiling. He chuckled, “Finally awake, sleepy head?”

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#the witcher #witcher #artistsfuneral about the witcher #road to kaer morhen fic #jaskier #jaskier the bard

[deathbxnny]

Aaa! Requests are open! May I send in a request headcanons for Neuvillette as a father? GN!child This one’s kinda similar to the wriothesley one in your requests but it’s more just what would life be like for the child? Would they be Human or half whatever he is?

-----

A/N: Hello! I absolutely love this idea and am really excited to write it haha! Thank you for the request and I hope you'll like this, anon! Content: Nothing too serious, just fluff and Neuvillette as a single father, mentions of chaotic auntie Furina- ((Not proofread.))

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Neuvillette's child will most likely be a Hybird human with more noticeable dragonic features, which the man is quick to hide publicly for their own safety and good. He doesn't want his child to be treated differently by anyone and makes sure they gain the same respect he has by the people of Fountaine. Anyone that dares cross him on the matter, will quickly find out why that's a bad idea.

His child is the most spoiled kid in all of Fountaine, to say the least. He earns alot of mora, which he mostly spends on them. Seeing them get excited over new clothes or toys that he bought them makes him feel proud and content. Especially when he hears them giggle and laugh. He'll organise any parties or balls his child wants, making sure they are grand and formal, since they deserve the best only. He is so soft for them and isn't afraid to show it.

The Melusine act like older sisters for the kid. They taught them how to swim and don't mind them showing their dragonic features around them. They take the child on small adventures around Fountaine's beautiful landscapes and deep oceans, always mindful of their safety. They also take care of them, whilst Neuvillette's busy with work, which unfortunately happens alot more than he liked. But with so much company around, his child never feels too lonely.

And then... there is the Hydro Archon herself, who takes her self-proclaimed title as "Auntie Furina" very seriously. So serious in fact, that she even made upsetting the child borderline illegal. She was very smug about that... until she made them cry once on accident and had to nervously shuffle herself out of the consequences under the Ludex's dark glare in court. She's also not trusted on taking care of them much, mainly because Neuvillette doesn't want his child to rub off on her. But that doesn't stop her from making a little throne right next to hers for the kid to sit on and watch, whilst their father does his job. If anything, seeing their awe-filled gaze motivates the man to work harder.

His child, despite being obviously very spoiled, is still very humble and kind to all. Neuvillette made sure that they had a high sense of morality at a young age and understood the laws of Fountaine. He encourages them to have their own opinions as well and enjoys having long discussions with them on justice related topics once they are old enough.

So really, being his child comes with many potential ups and downs, but he ultimately does his best to make sure his child has the best life possible.

-----

A/N: Wooo! Bxnny posting twice a day for once? Unheard of lately haha! I hope you guys likes this as much as I did and thank you again for the great request, anon!

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin fanfics #genshin neuvillette #genshin neuvillette x reader #genshin

[milgramimaginesblog]

hello mod yuno !! i hope you’re having a wonderful day / night .

may i request a headcanon + a little scenario with a haruka x fem shy reader? (if you could can she be a prisoner ^_^ ? )

thank you! 🍒

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Haruka Sakurai (First Trial), with a shy Fem!Reader, HCs

Synopsis: HCs and mini scenario of Haruka Sakurai with a shy!reader Word Count: 311 Genre: Fluff Reader: Female reader (she/her), Prisoner in MILGRAM Spoilers/Warnings?: Slight yandere behaviour in Second Trial part? mentions of: obsessive/possessive behaviour but that's abt it.

a/n: hihihi sorry this request was delayed a lot!! Been a bit busy and was also kind of falling out of the Milgram fandom for a bit but then I go some spark to write again 😭 I know you wanted a mini scenario with this but JSBHJDSDKSAAS SORRY 🍒 ANON I WASN'T FEELING IT MB ... though maybe I'll go back to this request and add it in, NO PROMISES BUT YEAH !! enjoy ♡

It wasn't as if Haruka was any different from you, in fact you both were quite similar in some ways ⎯ but from the way you quickly shy away from conversations or flee to your 'safe heaven' that is your cell... He wonders if there's a certain reason you were like this, or maybe this was just in your nature to run and hide?

Either way, Haruka was certainly surprised to see you approach him first. Coming up from behind him but not necessarily saying anything, just watching as he scribbled on the sheet of paper he was given by the Warden.

It certainly gave him a fright when you made a comment about his drawing though.

When he quickly turned around, you both simultaneously yelped in surprised before getting flustered at each other's reaction.

Was it a rocky start? Most definitely, but it's what drew him in to better understand you ⎯ feeling that connection that you understood his pain and flaws, while also having your own faults that he wanted to understand about you.

Maybe it was from Shidou's influence or soft teaching about these sort of things, but you were glad to know Haruka feels at ease with you.

Often times, after the incident between you two, the prisoners got to see you two together doing god knows what. Scribbling on sheets of paper, talking each other's ears off about interests you both had or are introducing to each other, or maybe it's just comfortable silence where nothing is exchanged between you guys ⎯ holding each other's hand as you walk around the place for a bit, or until you one of you fall asleep onto the other person's shoulder.

It's a cute humbling sight to see, it almost made you guys forget that you were participants of the MILGRAM program... (stopping here before I start angsting)

#MILGRAM x reader #MILGRAM Haruka x reader #MILGRAM Haruka Sakurai x reader #MILGRAM Haruka #MILGRAM Haruka Sakurai #🍒 anon

[little-miss-melanin]

EraserMight First Look

4:03pm.

The first guests will be arriving in about an hour. The ceremony will start shortly after that.

Toshinori stares at himself in the mirror, having been fiddling with his tie for the better part of the last 10 minutes. He’s quickly growing frustrated and impatient, evident by the growing frown on his face and the way his brows furrow as his reflection eyes him with annoyance. His hair is combed back and the two sections that made up his signature All Might bunny ears are down, beautifully framing both sides of his head and tucked neatly behind his ears.

He was surprised with how well it turned out, given that he’d done his hair with his own two hands. Ah, his hands. Hands that were used to perform countless acts of heroism, now defeated by a silk tie. Toshinori fumbles twice more with the fabric before resigning himself to the fact that he’ll just get married without the—suddenly unnecessary—fashion accessory. He tosses it atop the antique tansu nearby with a deep sigh, his now empty hands quickly busying themselves by massaging his temples.

He turns away from the mirror, his eyes landing on the clock across the room. 4:10pm.

He’s supposed to meet Shota downstairs in five minutes.

The nervousness he’s been feeling since he arrived at the venue almost keeps him stuck inside his own head.

Until there’s a soft knock at the door.

“Come in.” Toshinori answers. The dryness of his voice prompts him to take a swig from the glass of water nearby. Damn nerves.

The door slides open smoothly, followed by the sound of two footsteps.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but your best man has arrived to escort you to the courtyard to see your future— you’re not ready.” Dave stops short and gives the blond man a puzzled look, his eyes rapidly scanning the room to find the discarded tie on the wooden chest in the corner and Toshinori’s suit jacket still hanging up.

Toshinori doesn’t have time to say anything before his former sidekick is striding across the room, uttering some incoherent statement about the older man’s apparent anxiety.

“You could have asked me for help Toshi,” He remarks. His tone is non-judgmental; David’s always had sympathy for Yagi.

“I didn’t want to bother you.” Toshinori answers with a sheepish smile. “I just wasn’t going to wear it.”

Dave shakes his head in playful disapproval. “I’m no expert but I think this kind of thing falls under my responsibilities as your best man.” He gestures for the taller man to step toward him, which Toshinori does without hesitation. It takes him less than a minute to neatly secure the tie around Yagi’s neck, his deft fingers manipulating the fabric with ease.

The brunette steps back to admire his handiwork and give his friend the opportunity to look at himself in the mirror.

Toshinori says nothing, but the humble and appreciative look in his eyes is a better display of gratitude than he could ever hope to form with his words. He dawdles over to the rack and retrieves his suit jacket, slipping it on with ease. He turns to the mirror again, taking in the way he looks now that he’s fully dressed. Stealing a peek at his watch, he sees that it’s 4:15 exactly. He gives himself a once over for the final time, fastening his jacket buttons in the process, and turns to his longtime friend and best man.

“Ready?” Dave asks, gesturing to the door.

“I am now.” Toshinori nods, taking a deep breath before the two of them head to the private courtyard.

~~~~~~~~

“I had a feeling you’d be late.”

Toshinori can practically hear the smirk on Shota’s face. His husband-to-be stands mere meters in front of him, facing the brick wall of the dining room where they’ll have their first meal as newly married men.

“I had trouble with my tie.” The taller man admits.

“Hizashi misplaced my shoes, so I’ve only been down here for a minute or two.” Shota replies. The statement gets a chuckle from Toshinori.

“And yet you’re still giving me flack?” He retorts.

“Can you blame me for wanting to capitalize on the only time when I’m guaranteed to have you all to myself today?”

“I guess not.” Toshinori says with a shrug.

There are a few moments of silence between them before Toshinori moves. He crosses the courtyard in a handful of steps, stops two feet behind Shota, and taps the dark-haired man on the shoulder.

Shota releases a deep breath—that neither of them was aware he was holding—and turns around.

No words are exchanged, but the look in their eyes as their gazes settle on one another is more than enough to compensate.

Toshinori is spellbound. Shota’s face is completely visible. Rather than opting for his usual hairdo with bangs that cover his forehead and the bridge of his nose, his jet-black locks are slicked back, with one small piece of hair that sticks up above his left eye.

And oh, how his eyes *sparkle*. Most people would describe Shota Aizawa’s gaze as intense, intimidating, or off-putting. His black eyes tend to strike fear in most people; they are careful not to let his look meet theirs, for fear of being destroyed (literally or figuratively) by black holes.

Shota’s eyes are undoubtedly what Toshinori loves most about him. On a regular day his view is obstructed by Shota’s same-colored hair or limited to mere seconds as they pass each other in the halls on the way to their respective classrooms. But right now, he can behold the wonder in his future husband’s gaze as long as he wishes. He can dive headfirst into the beautiful abyss and allow himself to be swallowed whole without a care in the world. Despite his brightly colored hero attire and shining blond hair, black has always been Toshinori’s favorite color.

No longer able to contain the overwhelming love for the man before him, Toshinori blinks and allows tears to fall from his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He mutters quickly. “I know I said I wouldn’t cry, I just— I love you. I love you so much, Shota.”

Shota wouldn’t dare admit it, but he’s been wanting to cry since he heard Toshinori step into the courtyard. He doesn’t bother holding back his own tears any longer.

“I love you too, Toshinori.”

“I think this may be against the rules, but we’ll already have to fix ourselves up before our guests arrive,” he tells Shota, trailing his eyes down the shorter man’s face to fix his gaze on his lips, “so what’s wrong with *one kiss*?”

“We haven’t even gotten to the ‘I dos’ yet.” Shota chuckles through his tears. “What if it’s bad luck to kiss the groom before the ceremony?”

Toshinori shrugs. “Then it’s a good thing my good luck charm is right here,” he whispers before leaning down, catching Shota’s lips in a tender kiss.

#erasermight #mha #eraserhead #allmight #shota aizawa #yagi toshinori #toshinori yagi x shota aizawa #myheroacademia

[intensitystoner]

Scribble for @sifkiweek

Day 2 - Time

~1600 words

-

His return goes unnoticed by Earth's defence mechanisms – it’s about the third time, after all. Sif alone is allowed the knowledge. And her curiosity – so she names it – quite swiftly wins over her desire to keep an angered distance. She manages no longer than a day in New Asgard, then she’s on the way to London with a morning flight. 

He waits for her outside the airport leaning on a sleek dark vehicle, sporting a rich man’s attire and sunglasses, his hair only carelessly swept backwards, winding dark and shiny behind his ears. She keeps a straight face, like she had long been used to his capricious jumps between life and death. Her breaths are bent on betraying her as she walks up to the spot in a strictly regulated pace and taps the car’s engine hood as a greeting. 

“A fine illusion,” she notes. “Did you obtain it in a local junk yard?” 

“I can’t believe you hold me that cheap,” he complains. 

She shrugs. 

“It’s how most of us started out here, no need to be ashamed of it.” 

Loki opens the front door for her and then hops in behind the wheel, meanwhile admitting somewhat bashfully: 

“To tell the truth, I’ve been here for a while.”

The note makes her blood heat up a notch. She gazes out at the streets rushing by to hide any traitorous signs of insult. She shall remain as detached as she was left in the past two decades while he was busy destroying himself and some realms in numerous attempts. She was clearly indicated to be of no priority any more, her rather self-humbling attempts to contact him met firm rejection when he reappeared in Asgard as a convict. She can read a message well, and what reason would she have to forget it just now? 

“Would you be interested in a late breakfast, or perhaps an early lunch?” he inquires breaking the stretching silence. 

“I’ll get my own meal, thank you.” 

“Understood. Street hot dog it is.” 

“I hate that,” she breathes to the window with her thickest disinterest. 

“Thank you,” Loki mutters with genuine relief in his tone, which steals an undesired smile onto her lips. 

Giving up the sulk that she knows he’d easily counter and is only letting her keep up to appease her, she steals a glance at him from the corner of her eyes. He’s guiding the soft-humming earthen vehicle with the knack he has for any machines of the Universe, rolling the wheel with a loose palm like it’s unworthy of his touch. It’s his way of touching anything while in public, really. Sif remembers, even though she’d have plenty of reasons to forget. She is desperate to forget, in fact, especially now, while locked in a small space with the subject of her increasingly detailed memories, at least one for each knuckle on those long fingers. 

She all but flees from the metal box when the car stops in a parking lot. 

“Is this where you’ve been lurking around?” she asks to prevent the conversation from slipping out of her control. 

“Indeed. Not the most appealing location, but a tad better than those huts in… New Asgard.” He utters the name with a short chuckle. 

He guides her up to a loft with a view over the river: quite pleasant indeed. 

"And yet," she notes with a glass of wine in her hand and a purposefully nurtured grudge in her eyes, "it's not the kind of grandeur that’s rightfully expectable from you. Where are the servants? The garages? The library wing?" 

"Well, this complex does belong to me," he admits humbly, "as does 6 Chesterfield and Maughan Library. But you noted well that I'm trying to lay low; it's not my intention to stir the defence squads of Midgard just yet." 

"What makes you assume they don't know you're here?" she inquires. 

"I don't." He walks up to her and places his own glass on the windowsill. He speaks huskily, his eyes searching her face. "Would I have informed you if I did?" 

She makes effort not to turn her gaze away: not to give in to the welling up shame that she has helped SHIELD out a few times, and that he knows. It was her rightful choice, as she doesn’t owe anyone anything. 

He speaks through the silence while they face each other up close like this. 

“I wish to stay.” 

“Alas,” she fakes soft surprise. “the God of Mischief wasn’t welcome anywhere?” 

“It’s not that. I’d want to be where you are.” 

“Big words,” she breathes through her turmoil of doubt, sarcasm, joy, and some unnamed things. 

“No, they aren’t. You’ve always been the world for me, Sif. You’re the wisdom that I lack. You’re a haven for my rampant mind. However, I've never been able to tell what truly resides in your heart. It’s terrifying… But I don’t want to… " His lips tighten as he falters for a moment. "I don’t want to run from it any longer. It’s high time to face you.” 

She watches Silvertongue rummage through words. She interrupts before she’d think to stop herself. 

“You had clear priorities. Remember? You’re the one who refused to see me. You went out of your way, Loki, to avoid having to talk with me.” 

“Because, my dearest Sif, how would it fit your greatness to be the widowed mourner of a criminal, a fugitive, a usurper?” His hands move to hold her by the shoulders but cower halfway. 

“What has changed now?” She demands mercilessly, with the torn-up ache of her heart. 

“The Universe.” 

She sees the Universe light up in his eyes while he utters the answer. And she knows what he means, as she has always known; unlike others, she's had a knack for deciphering the tangled half-truths forged by his clever tongue. It may have been, she guessed, due to her pinpointed attention on his slightest moves. He made her addicted very early on, to the feeling of having him in a way no one else did. 

“I would have been there,” the words escape her on their own, her tone bends into accusation. “You should have trusted in me while you had the chance. Haven’t you seen me stand my ground through centuries of your self-abasement? Was I not worthy of being by your side at those times?” 

His eyes close for the moment at the cruel word. There is no place for regret, however: she knows her case is lost since the dam broke. He has gained insight, into her very core, and he's going to play it as he likes. He'll use her before leaving her behind once again, and she'll feel rewarded. 

"I did not honestly think you still had me in your heart after all this," he admits softly. "You serve Midgard now."

"To build relations, to earn a place here for our disheartened people." 

"Have you never been asked to help them entrap me?" 

Her suppressed breath is an attempt to contain her anger and pain. 

"They wouldn't dare," she tells him in a tone low, and for once, he’s clueless about whether her contempt is for him or for the humans. It daunts him, as she does whenever something else obscures her from him. Because he is exposed to her, free for grazing or clawing or cutting in, whether she’s aware of it or not. 

“How many times have I let you go?" she whispers into his silence. "How many times have I mourned you? Can you tell, or have you lost count by now?” 

He doesn't answer, unless the vast world in his eyes counts as one, while he takes a last look before he retreats to the couch. He's got nothing else to offer. It's up to her now, and she lingers by the window in futile hope that her stirred emotions settle into something tangible. 

After a lengthy silence, she leaves her glass as well and sits next to his comfortably settled form, seeking his reaction from the corner of his eyes, to see if this is all right. She knows she’s struggling with her own broken trust, but so does he. How long he will stay on this planet, she burns to know, but she also knows it will never be asked, let alone answered. So she scoots over and cuddles up to him wordlessly, unsmiling, legs hung over one of his thighs without requesting affordance. She feels an arm slide across her back in response, a hand ends up on her waist. Looks rest against each other, both questioning. He leans in then, his lips reach her hair around the temple, he remains like that for a while, breathing in her scent, listening inwards to the stir settling down from the contact. Their hands meet, her fingers softly hook into his palm atop her knees, their warmth is equal.

He lifts her hand, places a languid kiss on each of her fingernails. 

“Would you marry me if I asked?” he asks them in a very personal whisper. 

They say love is different for everyone. For her, it’s him, with a big, empty void all around him in the rest of the entire Universe. She has experienced sufficient time of both having and lacking, to learn by now which one is her path. So yes, she would. If he could ever prove he knew what he was asking. But only then. So she refuses to answer, braving the greatest menace she’s ever encountered: letting this coward slip away for good. (One more time couldn't hurt any bigger, could it?) 

And it eases him visibly. 

"I will earn your answer," he says into her eyes. 

Though she feigns nonchalant routine while leaning in for a kiss, her smile eventually spreads against his captured lips. 

#sifkiweek #sifki #da orky writing

[regularfan]

AU LORE + stupid POLL

i don't have cringi fanart to lurk you in. yet. but i do have technical *.txt piece, sort of "worldbuilding&questioning". so, if you're really eager to see any new content..

First of all, all that superhuman-supernatural stuff, ether Marvel or DC or other, is working more for commercial sell than for analysing extraordinary scenarios or deeply experimenting with "super" environments. Science fiction sometimes do! But those are comics, for vast audience, so.. i just take my statement axiomatic. Marvel has some of the coolest series and characters, but they did set them in a simplified world to print more covers faster, and now their first, main/official runs are kinda stuck in prescribed goofyness. And i'm just that sort of a person who takes original, makes original-copy, moderates it until half unrecognisable, usually just to enjoy alone ,:/ i shared some thirst art, but

This all based on a mix of early 616 MCU, TSSM (beloved) and bits from different media.

----something general

Starting from Otto – gets de-aged into late 20s. With his genial mind he got a high position at Oscorp really quick, so his sanity had weakened at 31 (was damaged already, in fact), mostly due to Osborn's influence. The significant change in character - he's not just strictly nuclear physicist about industrial energy, he's a skilled robotics engineer, and basically that "tech guy" for all occasions. So when Norman employed him, year later Otto became a new head of previously humble experimental lab of robotics and nuclear manufacturing. While working there for other three years, it became a complex scientific section, where Octavius developed his doctoral thesis. But as Oscorp was already gaining from the shadow weapon development and production, it was a matter of a short time and "personal" work on Otto's mind before Osborn pushed his knowledge and skills into this darker industry.

Basically there were no fighting Spider-man at those times, as Otto acted not on his own and under the protection of corporation. Sometimes his CEO would fund his own research/invention needs, as with doctorate and with infamous "arms". They were kind of a conglomerate of many tests on AI, mechatronics, portative nuclear energy sources and biotechnology in prosthesis, which should contributed to military, control and forces purposes – as the world was filled with people with supernatural powers, and the big part of this minority were feared much, as a "super" feature overlapped mostly on a sample of not "comfortable/safe" people. The only reason exactly Octavius' arms had such design – it was more of a funtime and sidework of a man who genuinely loved cephalopods.

After Otto gone partly insane, he couldn't tolerate being near his previously almost-partner, so he rises his contacts in criminal world, aka proto version of Sinister Six, openly committing crimes around the whole state, stealing dangerous and suspicious stuff, alarming authorities to call some young superhero to catch him, but they are busy with actual supervillains at that time. That's where Peter decided to act, and where their confrontation for several years started.

But what about Norman and Otto? They simply collided with their personal madnesses – from a hard childhood up to pathological psychology and behaviour. Norman is pretty accurate a sociopath in the hugely draining depression, with an idea-fix on family's legacy and with the rare soft spot for Otto (he can't admit), but with actual alter ego of Goblin, who is extremely atrocious and destructive, and has his own perception of "soft spot" for doctor. Mostly like original, but even more deceptively easygoing and kind outside. Octavius is megalomaniac just as depicted in canon, despite the fact he received and never hided it since the childhood, luring people by a humble (cute in some way) appearance and usually ending up terrifying them. What he subconsciously looks for - is both an admiration and love from the whole world and the praise from those who are beyond powerful and a-priory incapable of praising and compassion - right as he sees Norman. So the idea-fix of last becomes his goal too, and they evolving from strangers to kinda lovers rapidly.

Until the accident happened – no melting harness on skin, just a deadly explosion that put Otto in a miserable condition at 32 for about a year, almost taking away his sight and ability to walk. Even if it was Goblin who messed with Octavius' workplace leading to damage, Otto has no belief in that and blames Norman for betrayal, robbing Oscorp greatly (arms inclined) before leaving and forming his criminal band. Despite he doesn't have a clear goal on band's functioning at first (besides periodically rush at Oscorp), Parker started to intervene in their crimes, and so called Doc Ock became obsessed with the idea to defeat Spider-man.

Soon the Green Goblin shows himself the first time, but no body can recognise a director of international corporation in him, as the serum changes him enough (high supernatural aspects of serum). He seems to be on a chase for Spider-man too, for unknown for Otto reasons, so they kind of bond without the last realising he cooperates with his.. well, ex. Osborn, when alter ego takes his mind over, actually defends Otto from superheroes, but for a wicked care attempts - to see how Octavius will hit sufficient madness to be with Goblin.

So it's like - Norman abuses yet strangely adores Otto, Goblin ruins their relationship, then invests in Ottos' sanity fall, so he can have him for his own self. It all whilst Sinister Six battles with Parker, and Octavius find that Peter is Spider-man, but keeps silent as takes their confrontation very personal because he sees in Peter's life the one which he could have, but instead had his horrid childhood and nowadays.

As it's MCU world, there's a good amount of rare interaction between "friends of A, who's friend of B, with friends of B" (works with foes too). I'm just getting exited when clever-guy types from different series meet each other. I want to mess with Stark Industries.

Finally, since now i proudly have more than 0.5 follower, i will abuse my world level popularity

ps - why otto? well. cuz he dramatically sad, wacky af, chaotic, childhood problems, apex bitch behaviour and drawn ugly yasss finally i can relate but charismatic. depends on issue though. yet always neat role model in science field i'm in! ALSO THIS MAN GRAND TTHHICCKK IM THIRSTING

[libidomechanica]

A languid not smile not his short beauties prayer

A limerick sequence

               1

So unpleasantly. A languid not smile not his short beauties prayer?—Alas!    As if it sank into    the gardency that very captive moments of heaven?

               2

Within as decked worn to teach Brain-sick queen; at which ever singlet one out.    Of getting should see that,    for Germany. Of hands: Inez dreaming how Alfonso’s tears.

               3

Whose gleaming courts a devil’s songs of a Fool? Probation.—Oh! Now he playings    or signs of Fame? Dark socket    wild; when the bard—that one sold, the sluggish which myriads fair.

               4

Terror strength wine he boat I have of words, we but now bleeds this, but till, and    was excession; where Loue    isles and high. Is grief lay his head to whom then he the phantly.

               5

About the racers worthy own joy than I not my enemy, nor canst    now the thrushes. Grace, the    cosmetics to answer’d long they danger on a solitude?

               6

Ida the Judas warriors coming made a little lov’d, at a proceeding    voice and thou now his    during goddess! Call the night, that which ever wonder a bit.

               7

No Cortejo e’er the ceremony kneeling, breathless, none ice-cold wood,    but from Samuel Romilly,    because it equally as the tall? Yet know no devil.

               8

Wedded without there the wind shook with gems of light his four time. Experiment    will streaming car, air-    born that myself of temper’d, Detain stalks; but a body feet.

               9

At my hair; who that I saw my claim’d. A real lust of beauteous grown onion    was search’d, Sweetness gold, and    have have best ripen, he could not choose youth to say you with me.

               10

To laught have it might be. What went they had to prove univers worth, desert    all opens fount O’Reilly,    he learn long. What if she praised to fly, as vibrates of night.

               11

But along—he already always shouldst those her feel immortal! That fair    hae been the clasp his by    than this to endures, free in notes light of knee from Syrian.

               12

Nor taste contrast, and onward sight, and this suspicion inspire, save than the    spirit in vainest old    Ulysses well-built. Their clients, and call open win. Nor legs.

               13

The blood one, good, he herse, from thee protest again. To-morrow disjoin, what    hours, but a dark, an’ it    would come to give moment with their eloquenchless nymph of man?

               14

Nor felt not since he had no business and to hay is garrison. The death    as he tangled in blood    indispensed what she natures those silks. Thy word, and thy soul.

               15

For the words nothing flees away? Or who for my natal hope, but cannot    to death calumny think,    thick, the luver’s revives; up into facts, whatsoever knew.

               16

Once thine income-tax laid he page is with such logic will. Forth on Billy’s    hale the passion’s, virgin    kissing the pang is blotte Street, but not to powerless head. Die.

               17

A kissing-gown, and clap a whelming from the must stop post—i’ve not, I    aversion. May have spoke in:    and frieze, and conning night; for everywhere nothings that’s in a.

               18

The had twelve enchantern, by what’s his face than Christ was vacant, no steadfast?    You shalt not the very    planet in a boat I had reach. The goes to me the devil.

               19

Last was in an adept, come said pack’d from June: I used. Cathedrals call looking,    which cause their shoes render,    if I name overcome hear moon found and that seven took.

               20

It was on a word—but far above, must such a curious silently    yet I neither full Muse.    Starting to another and Humble as I pruv’d; love again.

               21

As wreck here! My letter might doth life unblest eyes shall even did mouth not    to have passed years, and rough    streams adown up her grace in great she was almost uncivil?

               22

Meant, in sunny, so the whither Hand— not a prudish fear, was an hour arms    I flat each? That kept secret    cannot be for me, matters—but now reason can butters!

               23

Ask me no wise the kind. And no good one as that scarce with grows the cottage    from downward spect makes so    ashame can on me, the beguile the hearth, by any love—help!

               24

Soft, and walk tiptoe divinely moral, whilst eyes. And sore dark, sleep his feeling    head, having and in    a curse Amalthea skims, and from heart o’ Mary Morison.

               25

And the rain; a though sense had been known vagrant in my parts ere heir It was    gone. Revelry to his    light, there hearts of widow on her hear of courtesy to say.

               26

Know, sir, and of a Foolish face, as the silver grotto-sands. Judicious    God advice of care. And    the envious alone in some fingers and snow, and make me!

               27

Free from lifetimes trite; all he caughter. What, absorb’d in each bed sat singings    to thee at leisure. Common    when Melpomene that the blue heaven: I can I did see.

               28

Travelling round in that sublimity! Or you are morality’s down for    thankfull verse of widows,    gazing all have from your bier? And when the ear! All thee? To thee?

               29

And dear, but the said I (for I clean. I never at full rymes brough, throbbings,    with a thief. So with    much, in the charms my way sorrows you see hence of heaven figs.

               30

And Anacreon’s mother shade, let me windows, we could yield how frail, and the    public approbation,    to heavenly began telligible. Even in this he!

               31

In somewhat promised to piece of Wisdom hath cakes? The tall—I hate, with thee;    and darken, saving course—    the Brentage is inquish’d in heaven! For salt of the grows old.

               32

With a strange my sole herse, als Colin vp, ynough thou? For my names of Old;    she next with useless past    the blunder-shower kept, and, truth the Latmian wonders have me.

               33

By which always used! Beautiful to thrushes: yet, can to truly great    compassion, glow, the Sunne wholly,    her deposition, and Creamed hours had resolved to answer.

               34

We’ll serious should has darken what Thyself alone from the heaven mix    foreheard and so long    Cheops. Is that they make, o care, the lark, an’ it’s jealous, weaving?

               35

Of this much embraue. Faith is lily, or cease me less pleasure little her eyes    or every well into    her sondry could the credulously, from the Banquo’s mouth’s stand.

               36

And loues part should be some have the English figure? Whilst flouds and smiles to-day    to-morrowing dew. At    thing before merry-winged list of the winds; and, in brief, away?

               37

And o’er a bowering from hath leaf make the tentie seem’d book content from for    any course than a sleepy    pilots came swells. They were quite receiv’d for my veins rather.

               38

He stones whom she deadening throat, commerce better how, or mole, his last motives,    if such sublime so? And    where, cupids might have spouses me sometimes be taught shall see me.

               39

In thy Justice tries celestial Beauty clean angely from these than all    withal. Now, Don Fernan    Nunez? Of such as chicken, and does lover, and by Louis.

               40

Do your best but one. Between made his eyes shall fears I won’t this in the most    abhorr’d. The through one of    her rest—i’m very prudish peerless still on Menie doat, and Give.

               41

And in the nunnery. The should loved and behold a loving his most demaund    beheld stellaes he    gentle eas’d the general pounds,—again. Thou think or early did.

               42

The rocks, and but themselves eternal hour! And the review of a lady-    flowers all which was fast    and how fall; the name or this kicks one, alfonso’s eyes or live.

               43

But their you, had late in Song like the rudiments more his last feel in the    love, my ball; bearing his    fathomless of tin. People’s wise, the flies far. And where we fool!

               44

And written upon it, by all around one cannot thy sigh sometimes—my    branches upon the death    has not withdrew itself with a lover, and thus? Since he mind.

               45

She is myrmidons, bower then the deserues shouldst reach: and lyeth wrap her    e’e? The episode, which    always would invent: she smart, and Humbleness went tale, the dream.

               46

Self-deceitful smiling, Come! Plagues, political, if it to his comfort    and bringen bitter mixed    beyond, once immortal bow to her vitall sad example.

               47

To other too, in the fools away in all-in-all symptom e’er a tavern,    with his vice, Julia    had became was in the man, whose grey dust, taking, my Philly!

               48

Love frae sun is years: I wished their danger. And tell have done so. Which uprise,    but—Oh! To be should sorrowe    and nerves play at twelve daunce, and garden fell, sound, at leaves here?

               49

With labyrinths ran light: and feeling neuer well in skin like joys with one    tranced from thee, nor his    life of wood trees. She sun gutter’d both the rose responding, breast.

               50

I pruv’d; but none country several pounders—past should sip the Sphinx. Bed, for    green denied wings; he this    the hearts, scare Aurora’s moral his woe. Such left on this dwells.

               51

Sudden she is his heart, so much more to shape was, a virtue kept her aims    of thy verse. Under the    seek no contentment of them back down the sluggish where artled.

               52

But for his lurkings. A think you algate lust list ne may be drest, like Adam    lingers all thee her    Don Alfonso’s eyes. Perhaps, but for proof—her Harp filling-band.

               53

If the first of deeds, the family Missal too late with a thunder, and done    ice-cold and English, that    is a maid, I will perhaps told. Young sow’d shells throat, eye a sort!

               54

’Er I shalt have love! But if I guess or a changeth are of goblins, some    fools: prose poesy. And cheer    it a man angely from one ever could not any theirs.

               55

—That drawn sigh, from under the right taper, mellowing hand. She ceiling, breake    wad glance all Spanishment    is not to weed this mute and music intense forget, the ground.

               56

Nor Usury wrong. Of hel, and plain: their ear. Store what old rotten, said: Wait    up; and the bark let a    liberty assign’d. A thing. Garden, that which, indeed again.

               57

She saw he dormant, but meet to do— by the fortress when the naval people    aparte and feel most    auaile, as well serious chase, they tread, and say not,—the roll’d!

               58

The specially got down. Old bard become other just as I have lowers said,    an old Deucalion most    a virtuous women— he who, alas! From the empires.

               59

Thing the page in the strong; for, or love a little fell sleep; for the could not    know.—Followed young goddesse    my friendship! I because and Anacreon may calm around heat.

               60

And Italiant light put my soule, I pour’d then your labour, and the coals and    slightning with love. To a    causes, that is of one of her by a shadow of loved so.

               61

Stood, at leadening columns rosbif. Might dream he war, or half-graspable    of night. His appeal to    him a close voice, for places, on a Saturday is the sweet!

               62

Nor cast therea’s isles and sooth, there’s eyes a Virgin liberty assign’d.    And if her to renew’d    all who standard of odditional, inform good example.

               63

If the wings, cover, and behold! Questions, the fuel; anonymously    gentlemen, even thee; nor    doth should stole the rock, catches upon his glitter with other.

               64

Honest many years had Julia, in tender an epoch with grief, and, Granby,    Burgoyne, Keppel, Howe,    and I did hem could not so prison. Here it see thank your here.

               65

It gouges out only of heaven ashes her e’e? The bear the days    togethere was sure itself    in her heard Lobbin solitary glen or spleen? And this sin.

               66

The devil of poesy of previous art, likes they that you. Mimic temple’s    page is blood, held mossy    should dashes where is over, till note!—Yet, jet black again.

               67

I double all in emerges from midnight would be gone another; yet    sometimes are twisted their    caprice, until The flowers of an instant, and so he door.

               68

Said, I lose of Moor orangerous silence; and cell he world, then the goes    to touch ended, but a    bore those station; and laurel: for loved in, let me out. A wiles.

               69

So that my seruice to subtile it may to their own good one, don’t is    trouble youth now I have    rented anything both prying still, and ink has been steadfast?

               70

I tell my fingers, not try your her is head just such a Surplus thro’ the    rudiments me then be    no morning, and dreary, and the worser speld. They live my grot.

               71

Point, in the Perfect, and wretched wilt for mistake—she had left unluckily,    he think’st the though it    fed. The soldier drank downs, a ghosts, and friend shred their talk in thee?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #106 texts #limerick sequence

[yeoreos]

avid || jjk (m)

pairing: demon!jungkook x human!reader

genre: 18+, smut

summary: jungkook finds you at a bar and sets you as his night's target

warnings: oh lord smut. lots and lots of smut.

wc: 4k

note: i was kind of lazy to finish it, but hey, its 4k of foreplay; nothing beats that! (also sorry for not posting in a while i was busy with beginning of year exams *cries*)

jungkook first noticed you in a bar. on weekends, it was transformed into a seedy nightclub. he liked to go there while he was looking for something to eat; something to conquer for the night. he discovered a plethora of attractive females and, each with broken hearts and hungry gazes - all yearning for a nighttime lover.

he never believed his eyes when they landed on you. the state you were in was pitiful. he guessed that you had just broken up with this boyfriend of yours, hence the mascara and ruined makeup on your face. or perhaps it was a platonic breakup. despite your state, his mahogany orbs never left your figure. what a cute thing you were.

a pretty face that was exactly his type, the perfect curves of your tits, hips, and ass has his knees weak. if you were to ask, he would give.

of course, his initial plan had been thrown out the window the instant he saw you. you leaned against the bar, accepting an order, with a grin on your lips. It sparked something in him, all the confidence (whether it be from the alcohol in your veins or not, it didn't matter to him) and allure.

he knew your name. how could he miss the way your own name rolled off of your tongue so easily? how could he miss the way your lips formed a smirk after seeing jungkook? how could he miss your scent when you pulled him in to kiss you?

this was jungkook's specialty, depravity. wherever he went, he brought a tale of wickedness and depravity with him, the quality hooking onto him like a magnet.

he was a fallen angel, to be sure. a demon, a fallen angel. to be more specific, an incubus. he fed off of sex and vice, appetites and irrational cravings. he drank often in front of ladies like you, at bars or in beds, whose gazes wracked over him, and he fed off of human energy.

over time, after a handful of centuries, he had gotten bored of playing the same old games in bed. jungkook knew what he wanted, however, he was never able to satisfy that itch in the back of his throat, yearning for something to quench his sinful thirst.

he was tired, watching from atop the hill nearby, where he watched the sun rest for the night. just like you had. the darkness of the night overtook the city of seoul and jungkook knew it was his hour to strike; to feed his thirst.

so, the demon went after you, hovering over your small figure over the pathetic excuse of a bed. the soft rising and falling of your chest and the soft snores that escaped from your mouth once in a while, was all the proof jungkook needed that you were fast asleep.

jungkook extended his hand towards you, brushing his knuckles on your cheek, a tremor coursing through his body as a result of the contact. the energy you were emitting caused every molecule in his body to twitch in response. captivating.

oh how badly he wanted a taste.

when you stirred a little, a small groan leaving your lips, jungkook stilled. had you woken up? however, it was just a small movement you were causing in your sleep which allowed you to further curl up against the pillow.

he grinned.

it was time.

"let's go in that dream of yours, shall we?"

-

when he opened his eyes again, jungkook didn't expect himself to be in the same bar, be in the same exact position as before. however, this time, you were looking directly at him with your hungry eyes, mimicking his.

ever since heaven had decided to clip his wings, jungkook gave up on the little purity he had left, letting himself follow his heart.

so that's why he felt no shame in eyeing your figure up and down multiple times.

it wasn't necessarily anything that stood out about you, but it was just the aura you were giving off, that sweet feminine scent that lingered near the air around you, that small curve of your lips. but it might have mostly been the way you called for him, despite not knowing his name.

"hello, handsome."

jungkook didn't really have a preference when coming to his targets. he didn't prefer virgins; he always thought that they were inexperienced and didn't know how to give a good head. he didn't prefer the experienced either; he always thought that they knew too much and made the sex too sloppy. it was somewhere in between. and by the looks of it, you seemed like the perfect target. it had his insides churning, a long yearning for a good fuck. he thought he was going crazy.

throughout his centuries of living, he saw empires and clans of royalty fall and rebuild itself, being reborn. he didn't go out of his way to feel good, but he took whatever the universe offered to him. in this case, it was you.

when the surroundings suddenly changed to a much quieter one, where no one was bumping into each other, jungkook furrowed his eyebrows. it did not, however, take him long to notice that you were in the premises of your bedroom, the small plants on your windowsill being a huge clue.

“who are you?” you inquired, your voice scarcely audible. smirking, the man took a step forward. in contrast to his sparkling eyes, the moonlight from the window follows his body flawlessly, giving him a blue tone on his skin. you became aware of his exposed skin due to his lack of clothing. as you took in his powerful body, a flicker of longing tingled between your legs.

the man stayed deafeningly silent. instead, the man crept onto the bed, trailed by what appeared to be a shadow. you kept a tight eye on his every move because you couldn't move. you felt yourself spreading your legs wide as he crept over top of you. you had a tremendous want to feel him and be completely consumed by him.

despite being a demon, a sex demon (literally), jungkook still understood the morals of consent, making sure it was his top priority. after all, he wouldn't want it if he was in your position.

"are you okay with what's going to happen?" his words were like a captivating chime in your ears, quickly relaxing you and making you desire more. you found yourself placing our hands on his shoulders in order to feel his silky skin. how was it possible for a man to be both burning hot and icy cold at the same time? the dampness between your legs was unbearable, and you were drawn to him with all your might. your nipples perked beneath your shirt as you didn’t wear a bra to bed, you remembered. this made sense. something you remembered vividly. just a shirt and panties was all you wore to bed. clearly you must be dreaming, so you may as well indulge without regret.

"y-yes." you dropped your hands to grasp your shirt and pull it over your head to display your nakedness while looking into the man's eyes. with a hunger for your every move, he kept an eye on you. as he glanced over you, his throat vibrated with a palpable growl. you noticed he was completely hard as your gaze slid down your body with his. in a humble tone, you inquire, "is this real? this isn't a dream, is it?"

the man's grin makes your entire body twitch. you feel him quickly remove your underpants and fling it somewhere off the bed. you become acutely aware of the excitement between your legs as well as the heat emanating from his body. he lowers himself still more until he's right up against your door.

“would you prefer to be dreaming... or would you prefer to be here with me?” the man inquires, his tone innocent but with a sinister undertone.

when you reached for your thighs to give yourself some relief, there was nothing there. as your eyes scanned your surroundings, all you could feel was the chill of your own flesh. red. your vision was completely red. it was almost as if someone had brought in a red mood lamp and shone it throughout the room. it was entirely painted in a bright crimson color. your epidermis. the walls on all four directions. it was all red.

everything seemed hazy and perplexing, and you wondered where you were. you were in a new environment. some may even argue it was a living hell.

you sat up and wrapped yourself in the nearest blanket you could locate before standing up. warm wooden floorboards greeted your bare feet. “what?” kneeling down, you firmly pressed your hand on the wood once again to be sure you weren't hallucinating, but then again, what's to say you weren't hallucinating the whole thing?

'im not a lunatic... you thought to yourself as the warm sensation of the wood stretched across your palm. you straightened up and looked about your flat, trying to figure out what you could do about the red. you stood up straight and began to look around your apartment to see if there was anything you could do about the red. nibbling on your lower lip gently, you stood up straight and began to look around your apartment to see if there was anything you could do about the red.

the door to your bedroom squeaks open just as you were ready to turn on the light switch. the sound reverberated throughout the room with such eerie intensity that you were nearly persuaded your tv had turned back on and was showing yet another horror movie. then something happened. from your room, a man who could only be described as the devil strolled in as if he owned the place. you would be fascinated by this man's beauty if he hadn't just walked in like that. a scar runs from the left side of his jaw all the way down to his neck, giving him a strong jawline. his delicate yet sharp-looking features are caressed by soft wild hair, and his adorable small head is adorned with two pointy horns. it was the eyes, though, that drew your attention.

not the fact that he emerged from your room shirtless. nor the fact that he had claws and a commanding tail swishing back and forth. no, it was those soulless black eyes that were piercing right through you. your very being. you were in some type of trans as the mystery man - no, not man - thanks to those black coals. devil. That sounded more like it.

you couldn't take your gaze away, but as your feet shuffled you further away from this entity, they did all the thinking for you. it only appeared to encourage the beast to keep going before you pressed up against him and the wall. as you summoned the strength to speak up, your grip on the blanket trembled a little. “wh-what are you looking for?” your voice faded away quietly.

the devil had smirked at your frailty and little dread before running a clawed hand through your unkempt hair “i'm starving, my love.” before leaning in and drinking in your aroma, it spoke in the lowest, almost infantile voice. “won't you feed me nice and well, love? after all, you did want this to be real, right?” you weren't sure if it was the tone of his voice or the proximity, but you nodded in accord.

he grabbed your neck and ran his tongue across his lips before taking you into a harsh but passionate kiss. soft cherry red lips ravished your lips in a ravenous embrace while his hands roamed across your body, grasping and groping everything it could find.

a deep moan emerged from both of you as you felt the tightness of his jeans against your leg, causing a burning feeling. the burning of want burned through your skin everywhere he touched, everywhere he invaded with his mouth, hands, and body. it was almost a nasty, twisted euphoria that made your cunt clench around nothing in eagerness.

as the unnamed monster looked you up and down, an almost animalistic growl exited his throat as he took a deep inhale, you gasped for air. “love, you smell so fucking amazing for me.” he spoke in hushed tones through little pockets of air. “you're so delicious that i could devour you whole.”

the very thought of doing so appeared to amuse him, as he let out a brief but malicious laugh before narrowing his focus to the blanket still clinging to you.

with a scowl on his face, he clasped his larger hand around the one holding the blanket in place before yanking at it, only to have you keep it in place. the devil, with his head cocked to the side, gazed at you, perplexed, as if he didn't understand what you were doing.

“it's just that,” you murmured, tightening your jaw at the gaze those empty eyes gave you like a chill up your spine, "i feel comfortable like this...” you muttered the last bit, swallowing any spit you had.

but there was no justification or apology for him, so he raised his claw into the air and cut the blanket, ripping it open wide.

fear, as well as the lust racing through your veins, were clouding your judgment once more. the notion that his claws were so near to slicing you terrified you and turned you on like nothing you'd ever experienced. it gave a sense of how perilous it was to be so near to this creature, which was part of what made it so thrilling.

"baby, nothing is safe when i'm around."

those words, on the other hand, did it for you. you reached out to him as soon as you dropped the tattered blanket on the floor, exposing yourself to him. you drew him back into another intense kiss by wrapping your arms around him and springing up to wrap your legs around his waist. as he grasped your thighs to keep you in place, he was caught completely off guard by your sudden bravery.

each passing breath spent on one another battling for control, hips sliding up against each other as your damp panties rubbed up against his encaged dick, which was most definitely pressing painfully against the denim trousers he was wearing, made the kiss more hungry and animal-like. the cool contact of skin moving up against your back and down your underwear made you whimper.

despite his animalistic state, you always thought he was beautiful, a rare creature. "you're beautiful," you murmured, oblivious to the fact that you were saying it aloud. he laughed with his head tilted back. his neck was big and thick, but it was the raised markings that went all the way around it that caught your eye; they were woven together like chains, as if he had been choked with scorching metal.

the demon kissed you long and hard, barely pausing to breathe. His tongue was lengthy and had a split down the center. it was a novel experience that was strangely addictive. you became engrossed in the way it encircled your own. with his fangs, the monster simply paused to tug on your lower lip. as his hand moved down to your thigh, you let out a faint little groan.

he sang, “such a good girl,” as he drew you up into his arms. Jungkook snatched you up like feather. as you placed your legs around his tiny waist, his arms bulged. before he entered your room, he gave you a lengthy, scorching kiss. you had your arms around his neck, sliding your fingers through his hair and scraping against the base of one of his horns as an experiment.

the devil looked down at you as you lay on your bed, his crimson eyes flashing in the dim light. only those eyes and the white-tipped base of his horns could be seen with the moon blearily seeping through your blinds. it felt as though the monster beneath your bed had arrived to devour you. slowly, he moved his hand up the wall, flicking on the light and bathing you both in a golden glow.

you eventually let your gaze drift away from his, focusing on his toned chest, tight waist, and muscular thighs. when you noticed the bulge yearning to be freed from his pants, you licked your lips. he finally went closer, his lips brushing against yours as he crept between your legs. his hands crept up to the band of your shorts, the heat of his palm scorching and heavy on your bare thighs.

he yanked your shorts down your hips and flung them behind him as he kissed you. he tore through your shirt even quicker, softly cursing as he saw your naked breasts. you yanked on his shirt, trying to get a better look at him and to touch every scrap of exposed flesh you could discover. he sat back and yanked his shirt off, displaying golden skin stained with crimson ink and muscular abs that rippled with each breath. you were so focused on his appearance that you almost missed the expression in his eye as he glanced down at you.

“fuck, you look like an angel,” he said, reaching down to rip your panties apart, only to shred them. your moist lips were exposed by the chilly air as you gasped. at the sight, he bit his lower lip and groaned. “very gentle and plaint." slowly, he ran his hands down your body, starting at the rib cage and working their way down to your thighs.

his fingers became hotter and hotter along the way, till they were on the verge of burning. until he came to your knees and quickly shoved your legs apart and up, crimson streaks remained on your skin. smirking at your hiss of pain, his palms pushed your thigh back till they touched your chest. “so ready to be used,” he states.

"please do."

“well, angel, since you asked so nicely,” he leaned very close to your cunt and licked a lengthy strip. his forked tongue slithered inside your slit, relishing in the lengthy groan that came out of your mouth. he swirled above the opening for a minute, then slipped just the tip of it inside when you finally relaxed against him.

jungkook gradually started penetrating your pussy with his tongue. the warm, slithery appendage that slithers in and out of you with increasing ease, flicking at your g-spot and making you whine in delight. you exhaled with relief when he licked up to your clit, only to scream when he clamped his mouth over the delicate nub and sucked hard enough for you to see stars.

moans and groans emitted from your lips and the demon could have sworn he had never heard anything prettier. his mouth salivates against your lips, only causing him to dip down near your entrance and trail his tongue back to your little nub. oh how sweet you were.

"my angel's already close to cumming?" there was no denying that. he had already noticed you were quickly approaching your high by the way you tugged on his locks and the way your moans became higher in pitch.

the demon took two of his long fingers and slipped them into your pussy, a squelching noise emitting from the action. you tugged so hard on your lips that it was plump and swollen, the irony blood almost spilling from them. he quickly started pumping his fingers and curling it, sending you seeing stars. he wanted you to get ready for the real deal (aka his cock).

"god, please fuck me, please please i'm so close to cumming but i wanna cum on your cock, please," if it weren't for you sounding so pretty and desperate for him, the demon would have prolonged the foreplay.

“there is no ‘god' here,” he hissed, sliding two fingers inside your pussy and sucking hard on your clit as you almost shouted in delight. his fingers curled within you quickly, drawing you closer to the brink. your fingers ran aimlessly through his hair, yanking it back to keep him near. you scratched on one of his horns with your nails.

it wasn't until another orgasm crashed upon you that the demon stopped.

you were spent; messy hair, hazy eyes, drool dripping down your chin and onto your neck and some parts of your chest.

as sly as a fox, you felt jungkook pressing his heavy length on your clit, the warmth and hardness of it evident in the way it pressed up against the little nub. jungkook evilly rutted against the bundle, sending sharp pleasures erupting from the mere action.

you thought he would stop at a few thrusts, however, jungkook had other plans in mind. those being seeing you completely helpless underneath him (not like you weren't before).

with one more came a push, your insides clenching and squeezing the head of his cock like a vice. jungkook stills above you; only the tip in and you're already this tight? he allows a shaky breath to reveal itself from his throat, the sound coming out a little more strangled and choked that he intended it to be.

you took him inch by glorious inch. the two of you reveled in the pleasure, drinking off of each other's moans and heat.

the rest of the night was spent in each other's arms. it wasn't romantic, but it sure as hell was full of pleasure.

#bts smut #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook is a demon #jungkook ff #jungkook smut #smut #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook incubus #incubus!jungkook #bts incubus au #jungkook incubus au

[prettyboykatsuki]

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unpoetic | m. neito 

➳ tags ;; fluff, confessions, monoma being stubborn, 3rd Year Monoma

➳ wc ;; 867

➳ a/n ;; i cant believe i wrote this 

➳ plot ;; monoma gets a little in his head when the third year class celebrates graduation. a student from class-1a, namely you, is quick to snap him out of it. 

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“You should get over yourself,” 

Monoma’s quick to turn his head at the sound of your voice. It takes him by surprise, eyes widened and mouth falling open as you stride towards him. You plop yourself down, handing him a cold spire before cracking open one of your own drinks. 

You don’t add anything else to your statement. No if, ands, or buts. You just sit in the silence with him - the summer air humid and hanging between the two of you. Gnats buzz and fireflies flicker. It’s the end of your journey in this building together - today you would start as hero’s. Real, true heros. 

Everyone else was out in the courtyard celebrating. Class-3A and 3-B all together as 3rd years. Everyone was together, having fun. The classroom rivalry came to what felt like a stifling halt.

Everyone seemed fine but he was stewing in something. He’s unsurprised you were the first one to find him, but he brushes you off.

“I’m serious,” you stand your ground. Holding your hand out, a lightning bug lands on the edge of your finger. You move so carefully it doesn’t bother flying away. 

“Dunno how else to say it, Phantom Thief,” ― you tease, voice ever so light. You always approach him this way but he never pays any heed to it. Doesn’t want to ― “We’re gonna be real heroes now and you’re gonna burn yourself out doing this,” 

“Doing what exactly?” he retorts. You look towards him with soft eyes. They’re too kind and too gentle. He doesn’t know how to feel about them but especially not when they look his way. Not when they seem to look through him. 

“Comparing yourself to everyone around you,” ― you reply, easy and quick ― “It’s exhausting you,” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” 

“You’re so quick to give comfort to your classmates when they fail and you take on the role of leader because you want to empower people around you,” ― you reply ― “I can’t help but wonder if you’re busy filling in the gaps with what you need to hear,” 

He doesn’t have a reply to that, shock brushing his normally cocky expression. You smile at him. 

“You’re actually kinda easy to read,” ― you muse, laughing just a little at the way his face is dusted with pink ― “You’re actually a good guy, when you want to be. You’re handsome and you have an interesting quirk,” 

Did he.. hear you correctly? He blinks at you owlishly but your smile is as confident as ever. He covers his mouth with his hand, dropped open in surprise. A giggle leaves your lips.

“There’s not anything stopping you other than yourself and your shitty hubris,” ― you continue, unable to stop yourself ― “But I think you’ll be a really good hero so.. yeah. Get over yourself and you’ll be fine,” 

For a while, he sits in what you’ve said. It’s quiet but really not uncomfortable at all. 

It’s true that it’s been him. From the beginning, he’s know as much. And while he never let himself think about it for too long, hearing you say it so flat feels embarassing. He’s trying his best to recuperate but he’s too busy thinking about it. Too focused on the fact that you called him handsome and cool and that you meant it 

He knows you did because you’re the only Class-1A student he can tolerate. You’ve always been the only one. You’re stupidly earnest and humble - quiet and easy going. You’re strong too but more than that you’ve always been so.. 

What’s the word for it? He doesn’t know if there is one. But even as first years, you’ve always been able to see right through him like he was a ghost. You always look like you know more than you let on, like you’re observing him carefully. He feels studied underneath your eyes. 

And maybe that’s why he feels like this. Because you’re the only one who really pays attention to him and his outbursts. You’re the only one who really seems to care. Enough to follow him out here into the courtyard and sit on the steps drinking soda in silence. Enough to give it to him this straight, unworried about his reply. 

Maybe it’s because you also know how much he likes you. You have to know, right? So confident that he’ll let you in, listen to you. Still just as easy going as before. 

Monoma thinks you know too much about him. You’re too assiduous in everything you do. You have the stupid Class-1A trait where you’re self sacrificing and honest that it’s hard to hate you. 

And of all the approval he’s tried to earn, it feels like this is the one he’s always wanted. He’s inclined to whine about why you waited so long to tell him and that alone is enough to make him fidget in his seat. 

“You’re.. annoyingly honest. Is it a Class-3A thing?” 

You shrug, standing up and dusting off the back of your jeans. 

“I think it’s important to be honest with people you like, Neito,” 

He blushes furiously. 

“I’ll see you inside,” 

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#monoma x reader #bnha x reader #writing tag #fics u write only for u ari edition

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt~ hoping you'll like it ♥️

Things between the Nie brothers are not always nice and happy, they fight, just like any other pair of brothers, and sometimes things are said, sometimes these things are heavy and painful. Sometimes they're said in the wrong moment (maybe at the eve of a battle? Sunshot campaign?) and huaisang doesn't know what to do with the broken look his brother gives him before leaving the unclean realm. Because what if he doesn't return? What if the last thing he said to him was how much he hated the man he became?

Labyrinth - ao3

“But I didn’t mean to wish him away!” Nie Huaisang cried out.

“That’s really too bad,” the goblin king said, looking pleasant and humble and charming the way he always did, even in his cape of glittering gold and high-browed hat. “I wish there was something I could do for you, but the rules are the rules. You wished him away, and I took him.”

“Aren’t you supposed to only take babies?” Nie Huaisang demanded.

“Your brother’s enough of a crybaby to count, it’s close enough.”

“It is not!” Nie Huaisang wrung his hands. “You don’t understand, the last thing I said to him was that I hated him! Meng Yao, please!”

“It’s Jin Guangyao,” the goblin king corrected. His smile looked a bit strained. “Listen, do you think I’m happy about this? He’s my sworn brother! I’m only doing what I have to –”

“Oh, save it for Lan Xichen,” Nie Huaisang growled. “Show me the labyrinth already.”

“You’re going to face the labyrinth,” the goblin king said. His voice was very polite, and yet still expressed significant doubt. “You.”

“Yeah, me!”

“You remember that it goes ‘through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered’, right? Not ‘through a nice teacher and a forgiving grading system’?”

“Yeah, well, your father is a fragging aardvark. Let me at the labyrinth already!”

-

“You know what,” Nie Huaisang said thoughtfully. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

The life-sized animated puppet blinked at him. “You – don’t want my help?”

“Nope. I’m good.”

“You haven’t even gotten into the labyrinth yet!”

“It wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t have a chance to get in,” Nie Huaisang said, patting around his sleeve and pulling out a fan. “So I’m just going to walk over and beat at the wall till something happens.”

The puppet followed him, staring blankly. Quite a change from his original apologetic ‘I’m sorry, I’m busy with my own things, I really can’t help you, also it’s too dangerous and you shouldn’t go’ response.

“You were blackmailing me to help you just a moment ago,” the puppet said after a little. “Don’t you need a guide?”

“Listen, I’m bad at memorizing things and I’m a little useless, but I’m not actually dumb,” Nie Huaisang said, fanning himself. “Jin Guangyao is a demon of the mind above all else, and the labyrinth is supposed to be ‘fair’ – which means, more than likely, that the labyrinth is a reflection of the subconscious, specially tailored to each person’s strengths and weaknesses. And that means that you, who sound exactly like Lan Xichen, are almost certainly a set-up sent by Jin Guangyao to ‘reluctantly’ aid me and then betray me.”

“Uh,” Lan Xichen-the-puppet said. “My name’s Hoggle, actually.”

“Whatever makes you feel better, er-ge…A-ha!” Nie Huaisang beamed at the gates that automatically opened. “Perfect!”

-

“Oh, don’t go that way,” the worm said. “Never go that way. And are you sure you don’t want to come in for a cup of tea?”

“No time,” Nie Huaisang said. “Thanks a lot – wait.”

The worm blinked at him.

“You’re a pretty attractive worm, in a slimy sort of way,” Nie Huaisang said, frowning at him.

The worm blinked again. “Why, thanks!”

“No, that’s not what I meant. Is your name Su She, by chance?”

“Definitely not!”

“Mm. Oddly vehement of you. Never mind. Just, quick, could you tell me exactly why do I not want to go that way?”

-

“I don’t suppose straight ahead is an option?”

The hands-faces stared at him.

“I’m just saying, I feel like most of my problems so far have come from the fact that I decided to accept the whole concept of turns. It seems like a mistake.”

“…it’s a labyrinth,” another set of the hands said. “You have to make turns!”

Nie Huaisang shook his head mournfully. “I should’ve brought Baxia or something and just – ZIP. Gone straight through. You know what I mean?”

“I’m dropping you in the oubliette regardless of your decision,” the first set of the hands said. It sounded a bit like Sect Leader Yao. “Just so you know.”

“My life is so hard,” Nie Huaisang sighed. “So hard! Do you know what it’s like to be overlooked by everyone? Do you know how hard I have to work at being this useless?”

“Drop him,” the set of hands that sounded like Sect Leader Ouyang said, and the set of hands that sounded like Sect Leader Yao said, “Yes. Now!”

Down Nie Huaisang went.

-

“I can take you back to the beginning of the labyrinth,” Lan Xichen offered.

“What, and waste all that time? I have a time limit, er-ge!”

“It’s better than being stuck in an oubliette. That’s where they put people to forget about them, you know.”

Nie Huaisang’s eyes filled with tears. “You want to forget me, er-ge? You think I’m useless, don’t you? A good-for-nothing, who’ll never amount to anything –”

“Please don’t cry.”

“ER-GE! WHY DON’T YOU LOVE ME!”

“Please stop crying!”

-

“So what’s the point of you?” Nie Huaisang asked the Wise Man with the Talking Hat.

“Not everyone exists to contribute to your storyline,” the Talking Hat snapped at him. “Some of us’ve got our own problems. Now hand over the candy!”

“Don’t be mean,” the Wise Man said. He had a white cloth over his eyes, and was smiling like he found the hat funny.

“Awww, but daozhang…!”

“Different plotline entirely, I guess,” Nie Huaisang decided. “Probably just here as a foil. Shall we keep going, er-ge?”

“I can’t believe you scammed me to get out of the oubliette,” Lan Xichen mumbled. “I can’t believe…”

-

“Oh, leave him alone, he’s just sensitive!” Nie Huaisang snapped.

“Am not!” the upside-down creature snarled, curled up on itself and trying to hide from all those that had been hitting him. Its fur was a vivid sort of purple. “Go away!”

“Don’t you have some sort of special power to help you here,” Nie Huaisang asked him as he tried to get him down before the goblins came back with weapons. “Rocks, maybe?”

“…lightning?”

“Well then get to it, will you?” Nie Huaisang frowned. “Wait. Lightning, constantly being tormented, terrible at communication, and purple? You’re Jiang Cheng, aren’t you?”

“…maybe.”

“Well then get down faster! I need to copy someone’s notes here!”

-

“Leave me aloooooooone!” Nie Huaisang howled, running away from the measuring snake.

-

“Wow,” Lan Xichen said, holding his cheek. “You kissed me.”

“You saved me from the snakes,” Nie Huaisang said. “Can we focus on how we’re in this awful stinking bog?”

“It’s not that bad!” a voice piped up. “I don’t smell anything!”

Nie Huaisang turned to stare, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course you don’t,” he said. “I bet the total absence of a sense of smell helps when you eat spicy food, Wei-xiong.”

“There’s nothing wrong with spicy food!”

“You’re short,” Nie Huaisang informed the small goblin-like creature with the big grin and the red ribbon in its hair. It looked vaguely fox-like, or possibly like certain large breeds of rabbit.

“Why you..!” Wei Wuxian crossed his furry little paws over his chest. “Just for that, I’m not going to help you.”

“Uh-huh,” Nie Huaisang said. “Really. That’s awful…oh no! A dog!”

Wei Wuxian jumped high into the air. “A dog?! Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan! Save me!”

Much to Nie Huaisang’s surprise, a furry dog immediately darted out of nowhere – only Wei Wuxian didn’t seem afraid of it, but rather hid behind it, teeth chattering.

Truly, Nie Huaisang reflected, the eyes of love are blind.

“I think the ‘dog’ is gone now,” he said. “Your brave and noble Lan Wangji must’ve scared him away.”

Wei Wuxian’s head popped out from behind dog-Wangji. “Well, Lan Zhan is really cool…hey. Are you trying to manipulate me?”

“Is it working?”

“No!”

“So you won’t help me?”

“No!”

“Not even if it means you get to figure out a really tricky puzzle?”

“No – wait. A puzzle?”

“I can’t believe this is going to work,” Lan Xichen muttered from behind Nie Huaisang. “I mean, I can. But also…Wangji…I love you, but you could do so much better than this.”

-

“Ugh,” Nie Huaisang said. “I’m so thirsty.”

“Have some Emperor’s Smile,” Lan Xichen said, offering a jar.

“Amazing,” Nie Huaisang said, accepting it and taking a swing. “I had my doubts, you know, but you’re actually good for something after all, er-ge –”

-

The golden bird was Nie Huaisang’s favorite.

He’d worked so hard to bring it back to his aviary – it couldn’t be forced, he knew; it would play along at first but in the end it would turn on you and bite you. It had to be coaxed with gentleness and kindness, approached indirectly so as not to spook it, convince it that you really did mean well – that you were harmless, that it had no reason to fear you. It was arrogant, too, proud of its shining feathers and ashamed of the brown plumage of its chick days, which still remained visible on its tender underbelly. Ironically, that was Nie Huaisang’s favorite part of it, the soft and gentle part; it might not be as pretty as the gold, but it felt more genuine.

Nie Huaisang smiled as he brushed the beautiful feathers, and the golden bird allowed him. He felt cherished, treasured. So what if he had to hide all the sharp parts of himself to get this close?

It was fine. He didn’t like to be sharp.

He wanted to be soft. Soft and gentle, careless and free, relaxed and without effort, good for nothing –

Wait.

No!

-

“It’s all junk,” Nie Huaisang hissed at the pile of burning fans, tears in his eyes. “I want my da-ge!”

-

“You’re all right!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, helping pulled Nie Huaisang up.

“Huaisang-xiong,” Jiang Cheng said, looking relieved. “You’re back.”

“We have to go to the temple beyond the Goblin City,” Nie Huaisang said, teeth gritted together. “We have to. I won’t let that bastard…we’re going to go there and throw all his damned tricks right in his face!”

“Just us?” Wei Wuxian asked. “I mean, I’m awesome, Lan Zhan is fantastic, and of course Jiang Cheng is great, too, but…uh…there’s a lot of goblins in the city.”

“We’ll sneak in,” Nie Huaisang said. “He thinks he’s sidelined me entirely – he thinks I’m useless. He won’t be expecting me to get this far.”

“I can get help,” Jiang Cheng said. “I have friends.”

“…not to be rude, Jiang-xiong,” Nie Huaisang said. “But – really?”

-

“You know what,” Nie Huaisang said, eyeing the pile of rocks following Jiang Cheng around, each one painted with a name. One of the names was yellow. Two were in white, with forehead ribbons. “This is fine. I feel like it says something really rude about my empathy for and interest in our junior generation, or lack thereof, but you know what? I don’t care. It’s fine.”

-

“You saved me,” Nie Huaisang said blankly, looking at Lan Xichen, who shrugged, abashed. The remains of the mechanical temple guard were scattered all over. “Over – him?”

“Huaisang –”

“No,” Nie Huaisang said, holding up his hands. “Don’t. Don’t…I don’t want to hear you talk.”

Lan Xichen’s head dropped down and he looked at the ground. “You knew from the beginning what I was like,” he murmured. “I never tried to hide it –”

“I forgive you for being what you are,” Nie Huaisang told him, and Lan Xichen looked up at him, startled and pleased. “I forgive you for not having the backbone to stand up against Jin Guangyao for me – or for da-ge. For being willfully blind for so long, for needing someone else’s proof of his ill-intentions, for always picking him first, for never trusting me…I forgive you, even if you’d never forgive me for the same.”

He dashed away the angry tears in his eyes.

“I just wish this wasn’t a fucking metaphor.”

-

Nie Huaisang left the fighting to the people who knew what to do – Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, Jiang Cheng, even the rock-juniors – and went to the temple at the center of the city alone.

Some things, he knew, needed to be done alone, even if it was the type of alone when you were surrounded by other people. Even when those other people stood by his side and made him promise that if he needed them, he would only need to call. Some things…

“I want my da-ge back,” he said to the maze of stairs.

“Then go and find him,” Jin Guangyao replied, looking smug, and Nie Huaisang had to go up and down all those fucking stairs, because Jin Guangyao was nothing if not predictable with his trauma, looking all over, looking for –

Looking for pieces.

“It’s just a metaphor,” he whispered to himself, ignoring how tears were streaming down his face. “It’s just – I need to put him back together, it’s fine. I’m not too late – I’m not too late –”

-

Jin Guangyao held Nie Mingjue’s head in his hands, blinded and gagged and bound with talismans, pulled out of whatever oubliette he'd shoved it into to forget about what he'd done. “Beware, Huaisang,” he said, still smiling. Always smiling. “I’ve been generous up until now, but I can be cruel.”

Nie Huaisang laughed, scoffing. “Generous? What have you done for me that’s generous?”

“Everything! Everything you’ve wanted, I’ve done – I cared for you, I gave you attention, I got you out of work, doing your schoolwork for you and coming up with excuses to get you out of saber training. I gave you presents, fans and pretty clothing, and when that brute of a brother of yours tried to take them from you, I rescued you. And then I even managed your sect for you, answered all of your questions, any time you had – Huaisang, I’m exhausted trying to live up to your expectations of me. Isn’t that generous?”

Nie Huaisang bared his teeth. “Half of those are burdens that only fell on me because of you. Why should it matter to me that cleaning up your own mess and satisfying your own guilt is hard? Why should I pay such a price when all I wanted was to be your friend? When all da-ge wanted was to be your friend? How dare you, Meng Yao!”

“Huaisang…” Jin Guangyao shook his head mournfully. “Huaisang, the last step here is to say the words to break the spell. But you were never good at memorization, were you?”

Nie Huaisang bit his lip until he drew blood.

“Through dangers untold, and hardships unnumbered,” he said. “I have fought my way here to the temple beyond the goblin city –”

“Huaisang, stop! Look at what you’re risking here. You know how everyone loves me – do you think anyone will forgive you for taking me down, for tricking them all? You’ll be all alone!”

I already am, Nie Huaisang thought.

“My will is as strong as yours,” he said. “And my kingdom is as great…”

His voice trailed off.

“I ask for so little,” Jin Guangyao said beseechingly, convincingly, looking just like he always did, like the man who'd been their friend. “Just let me fool you, and you can have anything you want. No responsibilities, no stress, a life of your own. You can even have Lan Xichen, if that’s what you want…”

What’s the last line, Nie Huaisang thought, hating himself for being such a poor student, for cramming things into his mind without any order, for never being able to retain a single drop of it no matter how hard he tried. What is it? Why can’t I ever remember?

“It’d be so easy,” Jin Guangyao crooned. “Much easier than this. Just fear me, love me, believe me, and I’ll be your slave.”

Sharp teeth in a false smile.

Nie Huaisang shook in terror. He couldn’t – his da-ge needed him – he couldn’t be afraid, couldn’t be a coward, couldn’t be good-for-nothing – couldn’t let Jin Guangyao win – couldn’t let him –

That was it.

Nie Huaisang raised his head until his eyes met his enemy’s.

Sensing something wrong, Jin Guangyao’s eternal smile dimmed, and he began to step forward, reaching out, but it was too late.

“You have no power over me,” Nie Huaisang declared, and the world within a world collapsed.

-

Nie Huaisang opened his eyes.

-

Nie Huaisang sat in his desk in the Unclean Realm, trying to amuse himself by trying to figure out what exactly he’d eaten the night before that had given him such bizarre dreams. It was not successful, on account of him being alone.

Alone, just as he had been every night, and every day as well, since the success of his scheme at the Guanyin Temple.

Just as the dream-Jin Guangyao had threatened.

It wasn’t that Nie Huaisang regretted what he had done – the dream was clear enough about that; he’d do it all again in a heartbeat if he had to. But in the dream he’d been working alongside his former friends, with Lan Xichen betraying but then returning to him, with Wei Wuxian dragging Lan Wangji around, with stone-faced Jiang Cheng and the rather interchangeable junior squad behind him…and in his dream, in the end, they’d let him go to take his revenge, telling him that if he needed them for any reason, he could just call.

Just call, and they’d come back to him. Instead of turning from him in disgust, they’d stand by his side…

“Stupid subconscious,” Nie Huaisang mumbled to himself. “What do you expect? That I'd write to them and say ‘for no real reason at all, I find that I rather need you’?”

Silence answered him.

“Well, I do,” he said with a sigh, putting his chin on his hands. “Does that make you happy? I do need you.”

“You do?” Wei Wuxian’s voice rang out, and Nie Huaisang jumped nearly out of his skin. “Well, why didn’t you say so?”

Nie Huaisang turned, staring: it was Wei Wuxian at the door, the human version of him, and of course there was Lan Wangji right before him, and Jiang Cheng, and the (still mostly interchangeable) juniors, and – and even Lan Xichen, who Nie Huaisang was sure had gone into seclusion with no intent to leave.

“What are you doing here?” Nie Huaisang squeaked. And why hadn’t any of his sect disciples warned him?

“We just bullied our way though the door before anyone could stop us,” Wei Wuxian said cheerfully, answering the unspoken question first. “As for the rest – it turns out that I had the strangest dream the other night, really, truly bizarre, and obviously I had to tell Lan Zhan all about it, except it turned out he had a strange dream too.”

Nie Huaisang’s jaw dropped. “But –”

“I felt da-ge’s qi woven into the labyrinth,” Lan Xichen said quietly. “I thought it’d have long ago dissipated or been locked away, but – it was there, in every stone, in every turn. Every obstacle that didn’t really hurt you, every goblin that was more silly than scary…he was there. It was unmistakable.”

Nie Huaisang swallowed. The story of the labyrinth, baby-stealing wish-granting goblin king and all, had been one that Nie Mingjue had told him as a bedtime story, when he'd been a child in need of comfort; he hadn’t thought of it in years before last night. “But…why…?”

“Because Chifeng-zun has a demented sense of humor?” Jiang Cheng suggested, looking irritated.

“Jiujiu means that he hasn’t had that much fun in years, and also that you should throw a party,” Jin Ling said. “You are hosting all three of the sect leaders of all the other Great Sects. Also, why were we rocks?”

“Uh, no idea,” Nie Huaisang said. “Da-ge’s weird sense of humor, no doubt! Anyway, did you say party? I can do a party!”

He rushed out of the room, calling for his servants, calling for them to bring food and wine and tea, and as he did, he looked out of the window – a golden bird was flying away, looking hunted as if something was chasing it, and even as he watched, it crossed the borders of the Unclean Realm and suddenly dissolved into a fizzle of golden dust.

Nie Huaisang put his hand on the stone wall, and felt a familiar echo.

A very familiar echo.

“Oh,” he said, to his servants, feeling somehow simultaneously sheepish and filled with joy. “And while you’re at it, can you bring me my saber? I seem to have – misplaced it…”

#mdzs #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #lan xichen #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #lan wangji #su she #sect leader yao #sect leader ouyang #xiao xingchen #xue yang #my fic #my fics #labyrinth

[astranva]

Falling Duet

Word Count: 2.4k

Category: Fluff but it’s so 🥺

Warning: Nothing

Request: harry dating singer!reader: he has to perform at some awards and he invites her to sing with him but no one else knows? love your writing🤧❤

Summary: You and Harry sing an unreleased version of Falling at an award show.

The lyrics used are of “Falling (other POV)” by THE cutie, Ally Naso 🤍

// masterlist //

**reposted bc tumblr is messing up the tags & nobody can view it. sigh.

..

It all started when a friend of yours had recorded you singing in your school’s bathroom during senior year.

7 years ago, you wouldn’t have believed it if somebody told you that you would be a 13-time Grammy nominated artist, as well as having 6 of that very award sitting on your shelf at your childhood home – one for Best Artist, and one for Album of the year.

You would have laughed even.

But it wasn’t a joke nor was it a dream you wished to never wake up from; it was as real as life could be.

You were successful in the industry and if any of your fans were asked, they would say that it was because of your immense talent and unproblematic, empathetic, kind character.

It was one of the many reasons why so many people on the internet had shipped you with a certain English man, him having been only 20 when you went viral and got signed.

A year into the industry, it was one day when you remember your Twitter notifications going crazy;

“HARRY STYLES JUST SAID HE LOVES YOUR MUSIC AND THINKS YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL”

“omg pls tell us you watched 1d’s interview with jimmy kimmel”

“IT’S FINALLY HAPPENING! CAN YOU PLEASE BE TOGETHER ALREADY???”

Looking back at that memory, you remember how you were a shaking and overwhelmed mess as you had clicked on the link everybody was sending you.

The video had begun with the audience cheering as the camera was on Jimmy and the 5 men near him.

And there he sat; in a black suit with a white shirt underneath, medium-length hair looking like he had run his fingers through many times, his hands clasped as he looked at Jimmy.

“Who’s most likely to let a woman split the band?” Jimmy had asked.

They had looked at each other, not answering for a moment before Niall chimed in with a laugh as he pointed at Harry, “Harry would let his celebrity crush do that.”

Harry rolled his eyes jokingly as his bandmates agreed and laughed, slapping his hands against his thighs in feigned annoyance.

“Who is that? Who’s your celebrity crush?”

“Just this talented person.” He had tried to smile his way through the question, but no one was having it.

“You know Y/N Y/L/N? She’s an amazing singer,” Louis told Jimmy.

“Y/N!” Jimmy beamed, “We had her on the show two weeks ago.”

“Yeah, he watched that.” Liam had gestured towards Harry.

Hiding his face in his hands for a moment, the audience cheered as his friends continued to laugh.

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Jimmy asked Harry in a teasing manner.

Having had decided to get it over with, Harry nodded as he clasped his hands together again, “She’s very talented and beautiful.”

“Lovie, can you help me with the necklace? My nails are still drying.”

You looked up from your place on the couch, sitting in your long dress looking so beautiful that Harry had lost track of time of getting into his own suit because he was too busy giving you a photoshoot on his phone.

Standing up, you reached and clasped his necklace for him, dusting his shoulders to signal that you were done.

Turning, you were met with your boyfriend of 4 years beaming at you before he leaned to press his lips against yours.

“You look so good.” You smiled up at him, “So beautiful.”

“Have to try to catch up with how you look tonight,” he replied with a wide smile, “Nervous?”

“Not really.” You admitted.

Amusingly and completely and utterly in love, Harry tilted his head slightly, “Any reason why you’re not? You usually hate those.”

It was true. You didn’t really like award shows because of how tiresome all the process was; hair, makeup, dressing up, walking only to pause every second, the repeated questions you have been answering for years, how more judgmental the world was on nights like these.

But it was always when Harry was able to be by your side that you liked the night, and the tall man knew it, but he had always loved hearing you say it.

To feed his ego, you wrapped your arms around his neck, “Because you’ll be there.”

“Music to my ears.” He joked, shaking his head slightly.

“Just feeding that already overfed ego of yours, baby.”

“Excuse you.” He pecked your lips, “Let me add food for Evie then we can leave.”

“I’ll do it, don’t mess up your nails.” You patted his chest before moving away to attend to your cat.

The fans and reporters all had anticipated the moment of yours and boyfriend’s arrival, and the both of you knew it.

You were fairly private with your relationship. While everyone knew you were together, the both of you didn’t always post about one another but when you did, it went viral – something you and Harry, shamelessly, enjoyed.

It was why during moments like this, everyone was eager. Reporters were hungry for content, all having different intentions, but you spend enough time in the industry and you sort of begin knowing what to say and how to say it.

Harry was scheduled to perform, something everyone knew of, but it was the fact that you were joining him not on the red carpet, but on stage that they didn’t.

Getting out of the car together, the screams and flashing lights were then doubled.

Harry closed the door behind you with a polite smile to the security standing. Bending a little, he adjusted your dress’s short train for you as you looked back at it before you looked up at him.

As if they weren’t snapping pictures like crazy yet, you reached and fixed Harry’s hair at the front, his eyes looking up with a smile as you did so.

“Thanks, love.”

With that, Harry placed his arm around your waist as you walked to the first spot on the red carpet.

“When was the last time we appeared together? They’re going mad.” You whispered, looking at Harry as he smiled to the cameras.

He chuckled, looking at you, “I think we deprive them too much.”

“Let’s give them enough content to last a year.”

Nobody but the both of you knew what you meant, and it was why the flashing lights and camera shutter sounds were then tripled the moment Harry’s lips were on yours in a soft kiss.

“Can we sign stuff?” You asked a woman standing on the sides, “Can we see the fans?”

When she nodded at you, you and Harry ignored posing for a few minutes to converse and meet fans.

“I love you and Harry so much!” One fan said shakily as you signed a paper for him.

“Thank yo- Hey! I saw you in Amsterdam last year, right?” You grinned.

And that was another thing not only your fans loved about you, but Harry, too.

You were no stranger to connections. You were no stranger to making people feel seen and treating them in a way that no fan expected to be treated – a friend, and you remember friends.

“Harry, do you think Y/N will win Songwriter of the Year?” A fan asked.

Harry shrugged with a smile, “I hope so but we all know she is anyway.” He waved his hand with a joking manner, making the closest fans laugh.

“What about you? Do you think you’ll win Artist of the Year?”

“I don’t know,” he smiled, “There are so many amazing artists. I wish them all the best.”

“He’s a humble man,” you teased, patting his shoulder, “We all know he is anyway.”

You were confused as they, Harry included, laughed in shock. “What?”

“He literally has just said the same thing about you.”

You laughed, looking at Harry, “Shut up, no way!”

“The both of you have been doing that for years.” One fan commented with a grin, “It’s adorable. It’s like telepathy or something.”

“Oh yeah, we are telepathic,” Harry nodded, “It gets a little scary sometimes.”

“Heeey!” You laughed, “It’s actually helpful. One of us would be just walking at home and we’d look at each other and know that the other just means something like “feed Evie” or “take out the trash””

“This is so cute!”

“Harry, what are you performing tonight?”

“You’ll find out in a bit.” He pointed.

Shortly, you and Harry had to take more pictures and do interviews before you were escorted inside.

It was the little moments that fans also lived for; how Harry held your hand as you sat so discreetly, how the both of you chatted and giggled among one another and those around you, how Harry fist-bumped the air the moment your name was called to receive your award of Songwriter of the Year before kissing you. It was how they knew this was real – how love wasn’t something you only listen people sing about or write novels for.

It was in how Harry’s eyes didn’t move from you as you gave your speech, a wide smile on his face and eyes resembling twinkling stars for crying out loud.

It was in how you ended your speech with: “This is to the man who has inspired and pushed me forward to write every single day. I love you.”

It was in how you looked more nervous than Harry himself when his category was called before you were the first to get out of your seat with a happy “yes!” once they announced that he won.

It was in how Harry cupped your face that moment to kiss you before walking to receive his award.

It was in how you remained standing, those behind you only smiling instead of being annoyed, with your hands clutched together against your heart, tearful eyes, and the brightest smile in the room.

“You’re going to tell me this is cheesy,” Harry chuckled slightly, giving a shrug as he looked at you, “But I wouldn’t be standing here, holding this, if it weren’t for you. I love you, too.”

But then Harry was about to perform and you weren’t in your seat.

The award show had decided to make a skit of it, the host being Miley had held her microphone as she stood in the empty isle beside yours and Harry’s empty seats.

“We know Harry Styles is performing in minutes,” she said, looking at the camera with a playful smile, “But where is Y/N Y/L/N? We know, we know,” she nodded, “Probably backstage for some extra good luck but-” people laughed, causing Miley to pause and chuckle, “But seriously, guys. There’s a show and it must go on.”

“It’s going on.” Harry said from backstage into his mic before the stage went dark.

It wasn’t until piano tunes sounded that the arena grew dim, a spotlight on the piano at the center of the stage where you sat, your fingers gentle against the keys as you played the beginning notes of Falling.

“I'm in my bed,

And you're not here

And there's no one to blame

But the drink in my wandering hands.” Harry sang as he came on stage, holding the mic in his hand before taking a seat beside you.

Everyone had expected him to sing the next verse, but it wasn’t his voice that they then heard.

“I'm in my bed

Instead of yours

Cried to sleep turned off all of lights and locked all of the doors.” You sang, eyes on the piano keys.

“Forget what I said

It's not what I meant

And I can't take it back

I can't unpack the baggage you left.” His eyes were on you, body turned slightly towards you as he felt like the both of you were in your living room in front of your white piano.

“I replay what you said

Don’t know if it’s true

Left with two broken hearts and there’s nothing that we could undo.” You sang, closing your eyes as you got ready for the chorus.

“What am I now? What am I now?

What if I'm someone I don't want around?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling.”

“What am I now? What am I now?

Don’t want to cry ‘cause I can’t stand the sound

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling.”

The both of you sang together, your voice being softer and quieter than Harry’s.

“What if I'm down?

What if I'm out?

What if I'm someone you won't talk about?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling.”

“What if I'm down? What if I'm out?

What if you’re someone I can’t live without?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling.”

It was a version nobody had heard before, and it was why everyone was quiet, the only sound coming from you, Harry, and your lone instrument.

It was something you had written together following a rough patch of your relationship, and everyone knew that it was more personal with the way the both of you sang.

When his eyes weren’t closed, Harry sang as he looked at you, and he knew that performing this song meant more to the both of you than anyone could imagine. One look at your face and Harry knew you were reliving the night of when the both of you had written this; eyes a little red from crying, bodies hot, Harry wearing a hoodie of yours while you sat in your underwear with his purple fluffy robe on.

“Can I do this alone without ever needing you again?”

“And I get the feeling that you'll never need me again.”

You both sang the bridge together, yours being shorter than Harry’s note as you carried a softer tone, closing your eyes as you played the piano, feeling your throat close up before gulping.

He knew.

It was why the final chorus was sung softer and quieter, Harry’s forehead resting against your temple for a moment as the both of you sang.

“I’m falling again, I’m falling again, I’m falling.” Harry finished, putting his mic down as he stared at you with a small smile, watching you in your element as you played.

Managing to look at him as you played single soft notes, you sang, “I’m falling again, I’m falling again, I’m falling.”

You played the end single notes, looking at Harry with tearful eyes and a bashful smile.

It was like you were unaware to the erupted cheer and round of applause, you threw your arms around Harry, feeling his arms wrap around you instantly.

Crying from the overwhelming emotions, you were thankful your mascara was waterproof. You called it.

“I love you,” Harry whispered in your ear, “I love you so much.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot

[xxxavo]

Sin getting upset bc he see’s Kouen flirting with his s/o (I mean they both already don’t like each other).So sins getting all alpha dog and is trying to get him to bck off

Requested by: anonymous

Warnings: A hint of verbal NSFW towards the end? (better known as...LIMEy) Not swear words but a few rude words? Idk

Suddenly getting back into Magi so might be a few imagines being thrown around here and there, depends on how long this lasts!! Feeling a NSFW scenario manifesting itself into my drafts after writing this, I won't lie, but no actual NSFW content today my little imuchakk's! Hope you enjoy!

Sinbad had always liked banquets, weather they be ones held in the kingdom of Sindria, or at his biggest rivals, the Kou empire. There was something exciting about the prospect of consuming alcohol in foreign lands after an important political meeting that made Sinbad feel on top of the world. It was rare for things in Sinbad’s life not to go his way, or to not end up leading towards something better then what he had lost. For this reason, King Sinbad was to an extent, a go-with-the-flow kind of man. Especially with loyal followers such as his generals and his beloved wife!

His beloved was of course very loyal, incredibly so...but, there were people who did not care for that loyalty of hers. This included a certain Kou empire red head who went by the name of Kouen.

“No need to look so sour, Sin.” Ja’far commented beside him, though he was enjoying the fact his King was abandoning his poor drinking habits to instead stay sober and focused, even if he was focusing on his wife and Kouen Ren flirting. “You told her to be pleasant and friendly towards Kouen to gain his favour. I don’t understand why you’re so jealous.” That was enough to make Sinbads eyes flicker from the generous laughter of his wife to the smug face of his right hand man.

“Me!? Jealous!?”

“Hmm.” Masrur agreed from the other side of Sinbad. The King’s neck practically snapped to the fanalis.

“Why would I, of all people, be jealous?”

“Because you’re wife is a smart, sophisticated lady who could do a lot better than a man who drinks sake and shamelessly prances around woman as if he was a young teen in his glory years.” Golden eyes met red ones in a baffled expression of offense.

“That’s a low blow, Ja’far.”

“Hmm.” Again, Masrur voiced his opinion rather humbly. Unlike the other two, Masrur had not taken his eyes away from the Queen, curious to see how her little game would play out; He loved how cunning she was.

The Queen, unlike Sinbad, was sensible. When he was busy hiding from Ja’far she was busy doing the work for him and cleaning up all his messes. Masrur liked how through thick and thin she stayed by Sinbad’s side whilst being the role model his country needed. She may as well have been a general. However, that didn’t mean she didn’t find herself sick of him sometimes.

Unfortunately old habits died hard. Sinbad was an infamous lady killer, flirting and charming any woman he deemed beautiful. No longer did he take it any further but Masrur could always see it in the Queen’s eyes whenever she got upset or jealous with his ministrations. As much as she tried to hide it, Masrur was a man who saw much, yet said very little.

The fanalis saw the way the cogs in her head turned the moment Sinbad had told her to “Gain Kouen’s favour in any way you can! I’m sure he’ll be much more linient with me if he enjoys the company of my other half” and the way she made sure her corset was on tighter and her breasts were pushed up higher only confirmed his supicions. Sinbad was about to get a very bitter taste of his own flirtatious medicine.

The Queen was, despite being middle aged, very beautiful. If she wasn’t married to King Sinbad, Masrur was certain many men would be throwing themselves at her feet. Kouen would possibly be one of those.

The next thing Masrur knew a grumpy Sinbad was pulling on his cheek, his gaze in the same direction as his. “What is it Masrur? What are they saying!? Surely you will stick by your King! Unlike this traitor—“

“Tsk.”

“Please Masrur. My wife could be in danger.” Sinbad dramatized. Masrur practically had to stop himself from commenting on how pathetic the King looked. “I need those fanalis ears of yours...”

“Fine.”

“Did you know, you’re my favourite?”

“I swear to Solomon Sinbad if you—“

Drowning out the advisor and the King, Masrur honed his attention on the Queen and Kouen who sat sharing a bottle of red wine.

“Oh no. No more for me please.” Just as Kouen was about to tip some more of the red liquor in her glass, the Queen politely bowed her head, fluttering her lashes. “My tolerance for alcohol isn’t the greatest thing in the world.”

“Oh?.” Kouen hummed, nodding in response before filling up his own. “I expected you to perhaps be a little more like you’re husband.”

“An old drunkard?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“But is it not what you meant?”

“I—“ Kouen seemed at a loss for words for a second, perhaps embarrassed, but saved himself rather quickly without a hint of emotion on his face. “What I meant was, a lover of a banquet. Sinbad has attended many, I assumed you would have been more on par with him when it came to drinking and party games.”

The Queen watched Kouen take a sip of his wine, her lips pulling up into a soft smirk. “Something tells me Kouen if I was anything like my husband you wouldn’t want to be sat here with me.” Kouen was slow to place down his drink, his sharp eyes meeting Sinbad’s wife’s.

“Would you rather me sit elsewhere?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“But is it not what you meant?” Now, it was his turn to smirk.

“I—“ With a soft laugh, the regal woman before Kouen grew flustered, picking up her glass and swirling the remaining wine contents around to allow her to look elsewhere. “You really are as they say Kouen. Quite an interesting man. I enjoy getting to know you.” Lifting up her head, the Queen rose an eyebrow, a smile now residing on her face. “Every word I say sinks in doesn’t it?”

“Your highness. If any man does not listen to you, does he really deserve to be in your presence? If my sisters were simply cast aside, I wouldn’t be so forgiving to the suitor who was to do that.” It was a lie, the Queen had heard of Kouen and his family sending off the young princess to he married to a King who wanted nothing more then a pretty face. Was there more to the story? Most likely. But was that the gist of it? Yes. However, to indulge both Kouen and continue to gain the nervous attention of her husband shuffling in his seat, the Queen sighed out gently.

“You’re close to your family...?” It was hard to hear the rest, Sinbad practically chewing off his own hand right beside Masrurs ear.

“What are they saying!?” Simply, Masrur shrugged. “Something about family.” It was no fun telling Sinbad everything. Groaning, Sinbad flopped back into his seat, picking up his wine with a pout.

“It doesn’t taste the same knowing at the end of the night she’s not going to be dragging me back to our room...”

“Who? Her highness?” The three men all turned abruptly to face Kogyoku, who smiled sheepishly. “I’m awfully sorry...” she stuttered out. “I didn’t mean to pry, I just came to say hello and over heard you talking."

Knowing that any ill intentions towards Kougyoku’s older brother would harm his reputation with the Kou empire, Sinbad put on his best charming smile, acting as though he wasn’t emotionally conflicted on the inside. “Ah Princess. What a pleasure to be seeing you again. Are you enjoying the banquet?” With a smile, the pinkette nodded her head.

“I am very much your highness. I hope you’re also enjoying yourself.” With that, her eyes flickered upwards to the Queen of Sindrian and the most influential man in the whole of the Kou empire. “It seems her highness is enjoying herself to. I’ve never seen Kouen so invested in somebody. It’s a real testimony to your wife.” Kougyoku was of course NOT JEALOUS. Not once had she imagined herself sat on Sinbad's lap as he whispered sweet nothings into her ear! Nether the less, she continued her façade, knowing that after all it was her duty.

”They’re so deep in conversation, I wonder what they’re talking about.” Her words aren’t helping the purple male.

“As do I...”

“Kouen seems so relaxed around her highness. They really do get along don’t they?” Was she trying to give him a heart attack?

With a delightful laugh Sinbad nodded before finally rising to his feet. "They do indeed. In fact I feel a little bit left out. Perhaps I should pau the two a visit. Excuse me Princess, I do hope of seeing you again soon." Lifting her hand to his lips, Sinbad placed a soft kiss to the back of her hand before walking towards his wife and that thing trying to take her away. The King of Sindria looked at peace with all around him as he strode over, all intentions of causing havoc and disrupting the calm atmosphere completely gone for his being. At least it looked that way. If it didn't, he wouldn't have been a good King.

The two at the table saw him coming before he arrived and where as Kouen greeted him with a cut nod, seemingly displeased he was interrupting his time with his wife, who simply sent him a passive smile.

"Ah Your highness." Not Sin, not Sinbad, not my King, not my love. Just your highness. "Me and Kouen here--" Yet they were on first name basis? "Were just discussing-- Hmmph!"

As done many times before by the womanizer, Sinbad encased the back of his wife's head, bringing her face towards his own and then slamming their lips together in a rather mighty display right in front of the red princes eyes. He made sure it lasted. And his Queen? Who was she to deny Sinbads advances? As usual she practically melted into his affectionate assault, fragile hands moving to clasp at Sinbad's robes in an attempt to lull him closer...but two could play at that game. Pulling back from his beloved, Sinbad made sure to smirk, staring into her eyes for a brief moment. It was his way of saying "I'll get you back for this".

The sexual tension was undeniable and Sinbad had hoped Kouen could sense her thighs rubbing together like he could, because that was the closest Kouen would get.

"Hm? Talking about what? I didn't quite catch that my Queen."

Meanwhile, back at Sinbad's table, Ja'far sighed in aggravation as he watched the scene Sinbad caused in absolute horror. "Honestly, this man really does test my patience! Can he not just let his wife butter up Kouen! If anything it benefits us!"

"Hmm."

"Just for one second, can he think about anything else other then his-"

"Dick?"

"I was going to say pride but that works too."

#magi #magi sinbad #magi ja'far #magi masrur #magi kougyoku #magi kouen #magi x sinbad #magi x kouen #magi kingdom of magic #magi labyrinth of magic #magi sinbad imagine #magi sinbad headcannons #magi sinbad x reader #magi kouen imagine #magi kouen x reader #magi kouen headcannons #magi kou empire #magi sindria #magi the eight generals #magi x reader #magi imagine #magi headcannons #magi imagines

[yostresswritinggirl]

Abandoned By The Altar

Part 1; When you were young.

A timeline oriented story focused on your once perfect childhood relationship as Diluc's bride to be, soon becoming estranged after the death of his father and his neglect. You only wish now that he looks at you the same way he did when you heard you were supposed to be together forever when you were young.

Pairings -> Diluc x Reader (Currently both young)

Word Count -> 3611

Themes -> Initial Fluff, don't be fooled by the title and summary, not yet at least lol-

Series -> #Bonafide Specials (100 followers event) Part 2

Warnings -> None, tooth-rotting adorkable fluff, this is part 1

The redness of his hair poked out like the moon in a blanketed, dark sky at the dead hours of the sky. His glaring flame of a hair starking in contrast against the sea of cecilias.

There were three knocks to the Winery that day and his father, renowned businessman, had greeted a new set of faces to their humble abode.

Diluc was but a mere child who had lived for eight years and he had exercised his mind to remember the people that had come and go. They were always regal in aura, high in stature, brimming with promises of riches. This occasion had the same weight, but with a lesser intensity with the politeness the merchant family carried.

As usual, business matter were talked about by the adults and Diluc, the young had no means to pry.

So when he finally stared at you, he was pleasantly surprised. Visitors were usually taller, more mature, and came there to talk about adult stuff... never had he met a child the same as he come with those that come talk about finances.

You slightly flinched back when your stares connected, from what he did not know why, but you carry the same shock and intrigue he felt. "H-Hello there!" Crepus ghosted a look at the two children with a wistful and amused look, softening at the sight. His sole child had always been demure and the distance from Mondstadt had kept him away from opportunities of friendship, so when your parents revealed you as their tag-along to their business proposal, he thought it was too good a coincidence to pass. He, however, didn't expect Diluc to be the first to talk.

"Hi, hi!" You bounded up to him as if barreling, your initial nerves dominated by childlike wonder as your eyes darted over him, so fast even that he doesn't know where they had already gone. "Your- your hair, eyes! So pretty!" You placed your hands on his shoulders enthusiastically, missing a distant horrified gasp and a slight shush. "Like, like... fire tornadoes!"

"Fire tornadoes...?" Diluc asked warily and you vigorously explained how the wildness of his hair carried the chaos of tornadoes that had caught a raging flame in its razor winds.

You had always been an eccentric child, your mother reasoned with the older Ragnvindr but earned a hearty chuckle. No harm done, he assured as he can't seem to take his eyes off the two of you, even tho his business was right in front of him.

After proper introductions between the two children, and a promise of a longer talk, your supposed quick visit somehow made its way to dinner.

The many servants of the Winery had caught wind of the sudden changes in the itinerary and they were quick to adapt on the preparations of dinner. In the backdoors of kitchens and maid halls there were surprising chatter that accompanied them as they work. "Young Master Diluc and the merchant's little girl seems to be getting along quite well," the nanny and the other maids started the gossip with fervor at the intriguing news. "It's greatly the reason why Master Crepus had entertained them this long, the gardener caught wind of how amused he is just watching the two interact." When the banquet table was completed before the diners had arrived, a lot of the servants hid behind the cracks of the doors to watch the spectacle for themselves, to guarantee if the rumor that spread like wildfire was true and not some hallucination.

There was a quiet series of gasps and 'aw's when the main door opened to reveal the owners of the house and its current honored guests. The towering adults parted to display you clutching to Diluc's sleeve as he guided you to extra long table, a display that you seem to not be used to based on their observations as you felt lost on which large seat to take.

And the young master thought of this as the perfect opportunity to show off the things he had learned in his sessions of proper etiquette. Locating the nearest seat, Diluc pulled the chair out and gestured you to take a seat before gently pushing it back under the table. Satisfied with the distance, he made his way opposite of you as a sign of respect for his guest.

Crepus, your mother and father watched in amusement... as you two took your seats at the other end of the table farthest from them. But they paid no mind to call you two over when they saw how engrossed you are over your own conversation.

The chatter that night was boisterous and lively on all parties, for besides business and wine, all had talked with the atmosphere of good friends.

And dinner turned into a promise of a sleepover, how generous of the Ragnvindr family. The master of the house simply reasoned that Mondstadt was still a distance from the Winery, and it was too dangerous to travel at this time of night. But the servants knew more than they had let on, for they too felt the somberness in the eyes of Diluc when your parents announced your need to departure.

At this point, this whole visit was now held up by the fact that it was their young master's opportune time for a play date.

The whole day you two had been inseparable. Either being connected physically or just naturally stuck to each other's side through and through. Despite his innate nature to be a recluse or lack of communication among his age group, Diluc find himself not at all minding the way you stuck close to him like this.

When everyone else had departed, you and Diluc were still wide awake in the parlor in front of the blazing fireplace, your hands buried in his wild hair as you talked about your travels before coming to Mond. The young man hums as replies with his eyes closed, concentrated on the way you weave your hands through his fiery locks as you made tiny braids here and there.

Once Crepus had finished tonight's negotiation and seek out his own child (of which was missing from his room) he happened upon the two of you coddled up between a fort of pillows and blankets. The fireplace long been extinguished as the children slumbered.

You were noble not by blood, but by high commerce. Your parents had been travelling all over the continent to procure business opportunities and partnerships, and their duo of both financial prowess and economic behavior mastery had earned them a place in high society and funding. Noble merchants who had found themselves in the city of freedom with their sole child in tow.

The true goal was to establish at least one commerce ports and business services in EVERY nation in Teyvat, and that requires a lot of scouting and connections to do so.

Because of the constant move, you had seen A LOT and met quite a thousand of people in every walks of life. At your young age you barely remember them all truly but the loneliness within you was not something that can easily be quenched, as travelling meant leaving everyone behind for an indefinite time.

Diluc was a one of a kind boy, most probably because you had yet to step foot in the land of the Pyro Archon, but his red hair intrigued you to wit's end. It was reminiscent of a campfire that protects you from the cold of the night, the last hues of sunset in the horizon over the cliffs of your expedition, the sweet taste of fresh strawberries hand picked from the Inazuman plantations.

So at the news of settling down for a few years in Mondstadt reached your ears, unadulterated tears of pure happiness flowed out of your eyes so shockingly that you didn't even notice them immediately.

Not until you felt small hands cup your cheeks, its thumbs fervently swiping at the wetness. Your wide eyes met Diluc's worried ones and he asked if you're alright with a gentleness you've never heard from him. You grinned, "We can play again tomorrow, Diluc!"

And the three adults in the distance sighed in great relief as your mood lifted.

You cupped back Diluc's cheeks to reciprocate and gasped in overdramatic wonder at how soft and squishy they were, squealing, and then tackling him back into the soft beds of Cecilias.

"They've really become quite close ever since we touched Mondstadt," Crepus smiled behind his cup of tea and reveling himself with the warmth it brought to his throat.

"Honestly, our daughter needs to learn manners after him. She's always been so rowdy, I was scared the young master would have run away from her brashness," your mother quipped in before picking up her own cup to savor.

Crepus shared a glance with your father as they both found their gaze back to the both of you. "Practically inseparable," they hum, "I'd say we might as well seal them together to make sure our bloodlines prosper."

Your mother choked. "Are you implying- Diluc and (Y/N)?!" At the mention of your names, you and your companion turned your heads to the adults. "An arranged marriage? At such an early age too!"

"What's an arranged marriage?" The children spat out at the same time, informing the older people of the audience they had brought upon themselves. Crepus smiles warmly at the sight of your tiny arms wrapped around Diluc's shoulder as the redhead holds a Cecilia in place by your ear.

"It's a serious promise," the Ragnvindr started, "it makes sure that both of the people stays together forever their whole lives. After a grand ceremony." Diluc knew when his father talked about serious business and that's when he usually pays attention to his words, even if majority of the time it's something he barely understands.

But the thought of being able to be with each other together forever, the young boy slowly turned his head to face you, which urged you to look at him too. There was the same color of his hair splattered at his cheeks, but his gaze on you was wide and wondrous, as if asking a silent question, "I would love to be with Diluc forever! How about you, Diluc? Do you, do you?"

"I-I do! Yes!" The young redhead tried to match your enthusiasm as the older men chuckled, your mother silently dying at the predicament.

"Then that settles it!" Crepus mused, "Even tho I didn't expect my son to be the one getting proposed on."

April 29th, the day before Diluc's 9th birthday, the first birthday of his that you would be in attendance.

The servants of the house had been busy preparing for the grand event for days now, and tasks were more than piled up on the day before the true date. Hence why you'd find yourself playing with Diluc outside of the mansion without adult supervision. Your parents had helped in organizing the party with Diluc's father, as it also doubles as an opportunistic moment of meeting nobles and honorable businessmen all over Teyvat.

"Are you excited for tomorrow, Dilu? Just imagine the towering cake, so many food, and toys!" You two were passing by the grapevines of the winery, fascinated by the shining grapes under the direct gaze of the sun.

"Mmm, there would be a lot of people tho, lots of talking and talking," you plucked a healthy looking grape from the vine before you finally looked at your companion, finding a cute little pout between his smooth and chubby cheeks. "You know I'm not good around many people."

You cooed at the confession, indulging momentarily by patting his cheek (Diluc raised an eyebrow at your weird obsession over them) before patting his shoulder, "Well, well, as your fi- financee?" Fiancée, he corrected. "Yeah that! I'll be right by your side, if you need help, I'll be right there!"

When you saw him relax under your enthusiastic grin, you patted yourself on the back before expertly throwing the lone grape into your mouth. And crunched.

"Well, I guess you're much better with people- are you okay?"

The sourness. The undeniably waxy peel. Your teeth colliding with the core seed. Diluc watched your face contort from surprise to disgust to pure horror as you frantically whip your head from side to side in search of something, yet finding nothing you slightly bow your head.

"(Y/N), hey, what's wrong-" he reached his hand out and under to cup your jaw and raise your face to meet his, but in a manner of time seemingly slowing down, these events happened: you opened your mouth to discard the disgusting grape to the ground when in some funny coincidence, Diluc's open hand reached out under your chin, the wet and slimey prune of a grape plopping on his palm spot-on with a sound of disgust escaping you.

When you'd open your eyes, you gasped at the sight before you. Whipping your head up, you've seen the most horrified look Diluc had ever worn as he stared straight at his hand, barely moving and breathing.

When one of the maids finally caught sight of the two children, she'd found you crying in distress as you wailed 'I broke Diluc, I broke him!' while the boy himself stood and looked just the same as you'd seen him last, still staring at the disgusting grape in his hand.

The festivities started the next day with you not by his side.

Guests were already swarming in given that the night has started its period. Crepus made sure that all of the preparations are in accordance with the party, yet he knew just how distressed and frantic his son has been acting, no matter how hard he tries to hide it.

He kneels in front of Diluc, finally getting his frenzied stares to settle on him. He offers a reassuring smile. "Are you looking for her?" Diluc was bashful in being caught but nodded regardless, earning a chuckle and a hand ruffling his hair. "Don't worry, she will come."

"But what if she doesn't?" His stubborn nerves replied still with uncertainty.

"You two promised to be together, no grape can easily break that," at the mention of the incident, his son gagged and whined at the reminder, causing another robust chuckle form in his throat. When Crepus has heard of the 'incident' that transpired yesterday, he had to stop himself from wheezing to comfort his own son.

At the better reminder Diluc found himself smiling again brought upon his faith on you and Crepus sighed in relief. That was when they heard a familiar voice shout from the distance.

Your little form broke through the crowd that had obscured your form, dressed up in a simple red chiffon dress and a massive white bow that holds as a belt. Crepus stepped to the side so you could approach the birthday boy yourself, presenting the red box in your hand with a trembling grip, you stood with nerve-wracking composure they've never seen you don before. "H-Happy birthday, Diluc! I uhm I'm really sorry about what happened yesterday, I really am! So I- so I bought you some gloves, so you'll never have to worry about your hands next time."

Crepus quirked an amused eyebrow at the 'next time' as he watches his son take upon the gift and opening it immediately, inside was a simple pair of white gloves with gold lines across its back and a pop button to keep it in place. When he fitted it, it was just the right size and fit his normal attire perfectly.

You watched him warily when you finally met eyes, opening your mouth to ask if he had liked it— when you were suddenly met by a hug, his fluffed up hair almost covering half of your hair. "Thank you, I like it. But you're late..." you laughed in relief as you squeezed him so tight, saying you were sorry with a giggle.

Diluc's father then watched on with a smile as the two of you held hands, disappearing in the sea of guests to mingle and admire the decorations they had put on for his birthday. At least, this time, he didn't have to worry that his son felt alone.

Your reckless imprudence and its adverse karma took a lot longer to manifest than anyone had expected. But it came with a paradoxical event both good and evil when you and Diluc were aged 10.

It was a rare occasion that it was Diluc who was visiting you (instead of the other way around) in Mondstadt's walled city. His father had the tavern to tend to that day and had entrusted Diluc's presence to you, the one who had been roaming the city for about two years now.

In your excitement and his cluelessness, you dragged your friend around the city for an impromptu tour guide. The cathedral, the statue, the HQ of Ordo Favonius; you exhausted him all the way as you somehow managed to find your way past the bridge and into the lush greenery of the outside of the walled city. He needed a breather, and you found the fresh air and quiet to be just the perfect spot.

The sound of rushing water in the distance helped as white noise for your relaxation, as you both stared up in the clear sky together, occasionally pointing at objectified clouds. At some point, Diluc had closed his eyes when the faint breeze urged him to rest more and he gave in just as easily.

The sound of your light musings grounded him just the same, together with the flowing stream and the distant pitter patter against the grass... pitter patter?

"DILUC, WATCH OUT-!" A force came bouldering against his side as he cried out in pain and shock, barreling against the grassland as he unceremoniously tumbles with the perpetrator. He snapped his eyes wide open and sat up quickly to look at what had come to your area—

And you laid there next to him, remnants of frost littering your clothes and climbing up your skin. As Diluc gathered you up in his arms, he felt the sting of the cold as he pulled your trembling form against his chest. At his peripheral he distinguished a few cryo slimes a few feet away, where he sees the dent on the grass he once laid on just moments prior.

"(Y/N)- (Y/N)! No, nonono stay with me, you're okay, please tell me you are," his body wracked in suppressed sobs as you desperately clung to his warmth. Your eyes were squeezed shut in pain as your teeth clatter and whimper from frostbite. He squeezed and pulled you closer up to his chest, desperately hoping the ice would melt before it engulfed you whole.

His gloved hands gripped at your back when he locked eyes with the slimes, watching them slowly advance to the both of you and he watched helplessly without any weapon at his arsenal to protect you two.

For the first time in his life, Diluc felt utterly useless and helpless at the face of looming death. And he prayed with eyes shut, to any Gods that spared him an ear, to give them divine intervention to help you two. To pray that there was something he can do, to pray that if only he was stronger—

And his world turned red around him.

Frost melted.

Grass charred.

Slimes dissipated.

In front of him a Vision was born.

...

A year and a half after that ordeal, you find yourself in the dimly lit hallways of Dawn Winery.

Diluc had expressed his intention to join the Knights of Favonius a day after he received his Vision, with a resolve you've never seen him wear before. He looked at you with longing yet courage of another promise, when you came to the same day. Ever since then, your visits became scarce and your play time had lessened, as you were left to watch him train in every hour of his day with either his father or one of the adept guards of the Winery.

You've never thought you'd wish to be able to wield a sword greatly to par that of a knight, if only to be trusted enough to wield the weapon against him in the guise of training. Ever since that incident everyone had treated you with utmost care and gentleness, even your dearest friend who had always gone along with your reckless spurs of action.

Today you were hoping to catch him on a day off from his sessions but it seems awfully quiet this time around and you were left to ponder with your thoughts as no one came to aid you with answers. You would press your ear against the numerous doors, linger to hear anyone, and then moved on to another if you come out empty-handed.

You were on your way to the last door of the hallway when you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You whipped your head in the thought that you had found your person of interest—

"What are you doing here?" But instead of the fiery red you were seeking for, you met a cold blue gaze that carried hidden hostility and confusion. You blinked at him as he did at you, an agonizing second passing with silence, and he opens his mouth once more to ask.

"I like your eyepatch!"

Somehow, you seem to have a knack on making people stutter on your first meetings.

Kaeya was no exception.

I didn't expect this to end with a cliffhanger holy shit, I loved writing this so much but I got caught up with so many other works and— it just became too long to continue...

Part 2 tomorrow midnight once again!

@creation-magician @boxofteenageideas @your-local-venti-simp @indigodreamtime47

#genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #exile.flower #genshin impact diluc #diluc #diluc x reader #fluffers #happy feelings #calm before the storm typo shit #Bonafide Specials #exile.pocketwatch