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waynes-multiverse · 17 days

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Rehab – Epilogue

Series Summary: Thanks to Soldier Boy, the CIA was able to develop Project Bloom under the fierce leadership of Grace Mallory: a final cure to Compound V and a hopeful end to the supe epidemic three years after the explosive incident at Vought. A secret rehab facility in Upstate New York is supposed to help former heroes find their way back to humanity. The catch, though? Soldier Boy has never fucking agreed to any of this shit and is surely not happy about being powerless for the first time in his goddamn long life.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18, language, some crack, a bit of fluff and angst, hard decisions, a lot of goodbyes & all the feels

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: We're here, babes! End of the road! Thank you guys so much for everything. This was a wild ride, and I'm glad I had you in my passenger's seat 💚

Feedback is my fuel 🖤

<< Chapter 8 || Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Epilogue: twin flame

You’re gonna be nowhere The loneliest kind of lonely It may be rough goin’ Just to do your thing’s the hardest thing to do…

“Morning.” Y/N smiles brightly as he stirs and slowly wakes. “Wakey, wakey, sunshine.”

Blue eyes flutter open and fearfully widen, his brow scrunches in confusion as he looks around and scans his environment. He tries to wiggle free of the handcuffs around his wrists, keeping him tied to the metal bed frame.

Not that it matters – he can’t leave either way.

She turns off the radio with a blissful sigh. “You know, that was one of his favorite songs. Your father’s,” she clarifies. “He sang it all the time. It was fucking annoying.”

“Why the hell can’t I move? Get me the fuck out of here,” the man in a sky-blue hospital gown demands and lifts his head off the mattress, only a few inches, attempting to get up.

Needless to say, that attempt is futile and fails miserably.

“Don’t strain yourself, John, or you might shit the bed. And I ain’t cleaning that mess… You’ve been in a coma for three weeks,” Y/N tells him with an amused smile. “Oh, and you can’t move because you’re paralyzed from the waist down. I even doubt that meager dick’s still working.”

His nostrils flare and let out a huff. “It’s Homelander, you bitch. No one calls me by that name.”

“Yeah, not anymore.” Y/N twitches her shoulders in mock apology. Her mouth curves into a Machiavellian grin. “Scared yet?”

“Where the fuck am I?” he growls through gritted teeth, upset by her blatant disrespect.

“You’re at a rehab facility for former supes. I mean, it’s discontinued. Abandoned, really. It’s just you and me,” she replies flatly and then forces a customer-service smile to her lips. “So, guess I’ll be your nurse for the day. How are we doing, you–”

Her brow furrows as she tries to remember the exact words, pensively pursing her lips.

“Wait…” She holds up a finger to stop him from interrupting her as she fishes out a crumpled piece of paper from her jeans pocket. She squints her eyes in concentration as she skims over its content.

“Ah yes!” With a smile, she clears her throat and reads from her paper. “So, how are you doing, you bootlicking… carpet-munching… cockboy?”

Homelander frowns at the insults. Y/N does too, but for a different reason as she shakes her head.

“Jesus fucking Christ, your dad’s handwriting is an atrocity,” she mutters as she tilts her head with narrowed eyes at the paper in her hands.

The blond man’s eyes narrow in both shock and confusion. “How do you know my father?”

“Oh, uhm, I’m his wife,” Y/N says and smiles complacently. “Which technically makes me your step-mommy, but let’s not go there, you–… Wait.” She peeks once more at the paper in her hands. “You cumguzzling… cowfucking… cuck fluffer.” Her brow draws up, impressed. “Huh, nice. Little alliteration going on there. Guess all those books paid off…”

“Can we skip to the part where you tell me what the fuck you’re doing here?” Homelander snaps impatiently, annoyed with the shenanigans.

“Alright, your dad sent me here to, you know… gloat,” Y/N says simply and shrugs, flashing him an easy smile. “He wanted you to know that he’s the one that put you into this damn bed. Funnily enough, he once woke up in this very room, tied to a bed. Not in a kinky way, though. Although, he probably would’ve loved that…” She chuckles fondly. “This place really changed him, but I doubt it’ll do the same for you.”

“And why the fuck isn’t he here telling me this, huh?” John asks with a challenging look. “I didn’t reckon him for a fucking coward.”

Y/N’s facade cracks a little at his words, a vicious smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, he was not a coward. He was the bravest man I’ve ever known. He was and is a fucking hero and surely getting celebrated as one.”

Y/N leans back in her chair and grabs the remote from the bedside table, switching on the TV. A news report flickers across the screen. It’s a recording from a few weeks ago, but Homelander doesn’t know that. It shows a row of celebratory parades held all over the country. A statue of Soldier Boy is being erected next to the Statue of Liberty.

Homelander finally defeated. Soldier Boy dies a hero in fierce combat. America breathes a sigh of relief.

Homelander watches the news and reads the taglines as they scroll in front of his eyes. His mouth is agape in bewilderment before Y/N switches the television off again.

“Everyone loves him… and fucking hates you. Like spit-on-your-grave hate,” she summarizes and watches his face darken. She rises from her seat and smiles down at him. “Have a nice life chained to that bed till you rot to death, you dickfaced, inbred, garbage-eating fascist.”

With a wide smirk, she then leans down and whispers into his ear, “Those were my insults, by the way.”

“Well, he’s dead, and I’m fucking alive, which means I won,” Homelander snarls from the bed with a contrivedly triumphant sneer, rattling with his handcuffs. He’s close to an explosion, she can tell.

“Yeah, you’d be telling yourself that if it makes you feel better…”

With a roll of her eyes, Y/N turns her back. As she marches out of the room, Homelander’s furious screams of agony haunt the clinic’s empty hallways, but there is no one here to hear them anymore.

Project Bloom has been disbanded. There’s only a handful of CIA nurses left, tasked to take care of Homelander until his hopefully slow and painful death. If someone decides to hold a pillow over his head at any point, she supposes she wouldn’t be that mad about it either.

Homelander is history. Soldier Boy is dead. And Ben is at rest.

Finally, Y/N can leave this godforsaken place behind her.

Y/N slides into the driver’s seat of her Prius, her head falling back as she exhales a long, exhaustive breath and rubs her temples. That damn brat gave her a fucking migraine with his whiny bitching.

“Finally,” it huffs from the backseat. “Took you long enough. How the fuck did it go?”

Y/N blinks into the rearview mirror and catches a set of expectant green eyes. Her hand drops from her temples as she chuckles.

“Your handwriting is horrible,” she says as a response and pulls out the paper, pointing at a word. “What the hell is that one?”

Ben leans forward between the seats and squints his eyes. “Mmh, pube flosser,” he supplies and frowns. “You didn’t use that one?”

Y/N sighs. “I think he’s got the gist without it.”

“Yeah, but that was a good one,” Ben mumbles and sighs disappointedly. “Did you play him the song?”

“Yes, I did. I played him the song and did everything else you wanted me to do,” she confirms patiently. “You know, you’ve got a weird knack for torture.”

“Thank you. It’s a gift.” Ben blushes and adjusts his baseball cap. “Did you sell it properly? You know, acting is a skill. The most important thing is to–”

“Ben! For the love of God, shut up or I’ll run you over with my car,” Y/N snaps. If he gives her one more acting lesson, she swears she’ll turn herself a widow.

“Fine.” Ben scoffs and rolls his eyes back. “Did he fucking buy it?”

“Yup, he surely thinks you’re dead. Like the rest of the world,” Y/N says and shoots him a smile over her shoulder.

He matches it and scratches his shaved chin, letting himself fall back into the seat. “Good. So, we’re done, right?”

“Yeah, he was the last stop on our list,” she replies quietly, her smile mixing with sadness. “How’s the arm?”

“Good, good…” He nods, his head bobbing thoughtfully as he clutches the scar on his right bicep. “Healing nicely. Finally got a real war wound. Always wanted one.”

“Okay, then… Let’s go, I guess.” With a heavy swallow, Y/N turns the ignition and starts the car.

“You know, I’d really love to kiss you now,” Ben notes, heartache swinging in his voice, and finds her eyes in the rearview mirror.

Y/N bites down on her lip and nods. “Yeah, wouldn’t that be nice…”

Three weeks ago…

A guard gestures down the hallway to the restrooms, but as soon as Y/N rounds the corner and is out of sight, she takes a turn in the opposite direction.

The good thing about a super secret government facility that’s not supposed to exist is that it only comes with the necessary manpower. There’s no abundance of guards at every corner. It’s quiet and desolate.

Moreover, no one expects a silly and weak human to cause any trouble. It surely has its advantages to be constantly underestimated.

Y/N finds the lab she’s passed on their way in, where she spied a glass fridge with vials of different colors. It’s guarded, but only by one person. It’s sloppy, honestly.

A flirty ambush, a stab to the neck with a dull pocket knife, a stolen keycard, and she’s inside. She drags the body in, too, leaving no trace of her crime behind.

Her fingers rummage through differently labeled flasks. There’s plenty of blue and yellow, but not the poisonous green she’s looking for.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…” she mutters to herself as she desperately searches every drawer, every goddamn cabinet of the laboratory.

Out of breath, she stops and grips her temples, shoulders slumping as her mind spins. She wants to curse and scream, but that would draw too much attention. She knows she’s running out of time. No one takes that long to fucking pee. Decisions have to be made quickly.

She grabs a blue vial.

Rolling down her sleeves, she walks nervously back into the control room. Neither Mallory nor Edgar pays her any mind. Everyone’s eyes are glued to Soldier Boy and Homelander. Father and son. It’s biblical.

It’s as if she isn’t even there.

Her veins twitch, her blood boils. It’s tingling in her fingertips.

“Little help would be fucking appreciated!” Ben yells as he wrangles with a defunct Homelander.

Stan Edgar’s smile. So vicious. So cold. So calculating.

She knows the air in the room is about to shift. Her hands ball into fists by her side, gather their energy.

He gives his command. She screams.

“No! That wasn’t the fucking deal!”

Edgar doesn’t even look at her fully. A sideways glance is all she’s worth. “Take her out, too.”

Mallory sees it first, her eyes widening when she realizes what’s going on. It’s too late to warn anyone, however, her cries for help unheard as the acid rots her throat.

Edgar and two guards are next, metal weapons melt and mix with a puddle of human soup on the ground. Then, she goes after the one that got away.

The third guard hurries inside the prison cell, but Y/N slips through the crack of the door before it slams shut. The first gunshot goes clean through Homelander’s spine, but the second is deterred and only strikes Ben’s arm as the guard bubbles to a pond, a hot spring in the concrete.

Ben clutches his bleeding wound with a hiss before his green eyes lock with hers. They widen, and it takes him a moment to make sense of it all.

“Y/N, what–”

He takes a step forward. She takes a step back.

“Don’t come near me,” she orders him with panic blinking in her eyes like a flashing alarm. Her chest rises and falls with every anxious breath.

He holds his palms up high, surrendering. “It’s okay.”

Ben carefully walks around her and steps over the bubbling human puddle on the floor. He peeks outside the door, purses his lips, and nods in impressed satisfaction.

“Those little blobs outside–”

Y/N bobs her head at his unfinished question. “Mallory and Edgar plus two guards,” she replies.

“Nice job.” He whistles lowly and shoots her a devilish grin, taking a step closer. “Gotta say, I’ve never been more turned on by you. I’m getting fucking hard.”

“Ben!” Y/N scolds and backs away from him until she’s pressed against the wall. “I told you, don’t touch me,” she warns him again.

Ben’s smile fades as he recognizes her fear. His features soften, the jokes disappear. “Hey, it’s alright. Twenty-four hours and you’ll be fine again. Just gotta get through it.”

Y/N shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes. Ben’s brow knits in confusion, his face stern.

“What-… Why are you shaking your head?”

A tear escapes and streaks her cheek. “It won’t go away in twenty-four hours,” she chokes out. “They were out of Temp V.”

Ben’s face drops at the realization. “No, no, no… Tell me you didn’t fucking do this!” he yells.

“They were going to kill you! What was I supposed to do?” Y/N explains tearfully.

“Die, Y/N! You were supposed to let me fucking die!” Ben’s jaw tightens as anger surges through his body.

“I didn’t let you die the first time! What made you think I would let you fucking die right now, huh?” Y/N cries through gritted teeth, her hands balling into fists. “Stop trying to kill yourself. You fucking promised me!”

Licking his lips, Ben swallows. He’s quiet, running a palm over his face while his mind races a mile a minute. “Okay… alright,” he says finally, his voice significantly calmer now. “Where did you get the Compound V from?”

“There’s a lab here,” she replies in the same calm manner.

“They got more?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Ben nods and finds her eyes. “Show me.”

Y/N presses her lips into a thin line, shaking her head once more. “No.”

His anger returns, nostrils flaring as his brow creases. “What d’you mean no?”

She swallows thickly. “Look, if you really wanna do this, then I won’t stop you,” she says, a pleading glimmer haunting her eyes. “But you finally got a chance. You can live the normal, boring life. You can go on road trips, see Mount Rushmore… I know you want to.”

Ben swipes his tongue over his teeth and averts his gaze. He pinches the bridge of his freckled nose, and Y/N can see that she’s right.

“I’m not even sure if I want powers,” she continues after a pause. “But at least this time it was my choice. And I don’t regret it if it means I got to save you, okay?”

When Ben finally looks at her, it breaks her heart. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

Y/N gives him a sad smile. “I know… And you won’t be. I promise.”

Their attention is then temporarily drawn to a groan on the ground. Y/N’s brow furrows as she looks at Homelander’s body and notices his fingers twitching.

“Is he still alive?”

“Looks like it,” Ben replies. But as Y/N gets ready to take care of the problem, he stops her, holding out his flat palm. “Wait, wait, wait… Judging by the wound, he’s gonna be a fucking vegetable. It’s a waste of a kill.” He then grins mischievously at her. “I’ve got a better fucking idea. The other question is: how the fuck do we get outta this place… alive?”

Y/N’s mouth opens, but she doesn’t have an answer aside from a helpless shrug for him. This is as far as she has planned. Actually, she hasn’t planned any of this at all.

“I might be able to help with that,” a woman’s voice sounds behind her.

Y/N’s eyes widen as she recognizes the newcomer, her mouth parting anew in both surprise and shock. Ben, on the other hand, furrows his brow and glares at the stranger as if she had just spoken Russian.

“Who the fuck are you?” Ben prompts and then leans closer to Y/N, whispering in her ear, “Kill her.”

Y/N frowns, but her eyes are glued to the young woman in front of her, the familiarity sinking in. “I can’t,” she grits through her teeth.

“Why the fuck not?” Ben asks now loud enough for everyone to hear, including their guest.

“Because I’m the president,” the woman replies, smiling complacently. “And an old friend.”

Ben’s brow creases even more. “President of what? Cunt-town?”

“The United States, Ben,” Y/N tells him flatly. If she could kick his leg right now, she would. Leave it to her husband to get them both killed.

“Wait, a skirt is president?” Ben arches an eyebrow and mutters, “No wonder this country’s going to shit…”

“Charming,” Victoria Neuman says with a small sigh, but seemingly unbothered by the old-school views. Much like Y/N, she ignores the comment and doesn’t take offense to it. “I can see why you married him,” she adds wryly, looking at Y/N.

“Technically, she wasn’t elected. She was Vice President till President Singer died… accidentally,” Y/N explains, knowing Ben only reads the paper for the sports section and the comic strip. She swallows the thick lump in her throat, her heart thrashing wildly in her chest.

“Ah, I know what that’s code for.” Ben smirks coolly. “Bold move. I can fucking respect that.”

“Yeah, God knows some old fuck’s approval is what I’m looking for,” Neuman taunts, the sarcasm dripping from her red-painted lips.

Ben’s face drops as a bit of anger bubbles up inside of him. That bitch is lucky he’s V-free. He forces a tight-lipped smile. “I’m just saying I would’ve done the same thing, okay?”

“No offense, but you’re too much of a moron for that,” Neuman replies dryly.

Ben’s nostrils flare as he grits, “Offense fucking taken.”

“Okay!” Y/N tries to cut the tension with a nervous chuckle, pushing herself between Neuman and Ben. “How about you just tell us what we have to do to get out of this one?”

“See? She’s smart,” Neuman says and smirks at Ben. “I’ve always liked you, Y/N. You know, when Stan and Grace told me their plan of getting you two involved, I warned them. But they just wouldn’t listen. Everyone always underestimates the orphan. I should know, and so do you. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

“Yeah, guess we’re MVP, after all, Nadia,” Y/N says and makes it a point to emphasize her real name.

Victoria just smiles in response. “So, since you took care of two problems for me, one in here and one out there, I have a proposal for you.”

“What is it?” Y/N knows she’s really out of choices. Either she agrees, or Ben and her will spend the afterlife together.

“I need a new Chief of Staff. I want you to do it. You’re smart, driven, and I know you wanna change shit around here. You wanna make a difference? This is your chance,” Neuman proposes. “You can’t take the cure again. It’s going to kill you. Trust me, we’ve done studies, and the results are not pretty.”

Y/N thinks for a few breaths. “What about Ben?”

“I guess he can live. It’s not like he’s a threat to anyone,” Neuman says and almost sounds bored. “Hell, for all I care, we can even make Soldier Boy a reformed hero for dealing with Homelander. He dies heroically in battle and quietly lives out his retirement in fucking Florida or some shit. We get him a big fucking statue. It’s good publicity.”

Y/N shares a look with Ben. “What d’you think?”

Thoughtfully, Ben clicks his tongue. He supposes it’s the best deal they can get, and declining it would probably get them nowhere, although he hates everything about it.

Swallowing, the former supe nods. “Alright, let’s fucking do this,” he agrees and states his conditions, “But for the record, I’m not moving to shit-ass Florida. I want a nice lake house in Minnesota.”

Victoria rolls her eyes. “Fine, whatever. Minnesota it is.”

“You okay? You ready?” Y/N checks as Ben has made it up the stone steps and halts in front of the big, red door.

“I don’t know. You really think this is a good idea? I’m not sure I can do this,” Ben says and insecurely eyes the entrance.

“You’ll do great, alright?” Y/N smiles encouragingly. “I believe in you.”

“I don’t wanna do this alone. What if I fuck up?” Ben asks.

Amused, Y/N chuckles. “Oh, you’re for sure gonna fuck up.”

The green-eyed man scowls. “That’s fucking reassuring. Thanks.”

“Look, this way you won’t be alone. I’ll wire you money every month and check in as much as I can, alright? You can always call me. This isn’t the end,” Y/N soothes his worries. “Maybe one day there’s a cure that’ll work, and we can be together again for real.”

She forces a weak smile to her lips, although she doesn’t believe her own words. But as long as Ben believes them, it’s enough.

“Okay.” Ben nods and takes a deep breath – in through his nose and out through his mouth. “I think I’m ready now.”

“Good.” Y/N sends him a smile. “You thought of a new name yet?”

“I’m still marinating on it,” Ben grumbles.

“Well, marinate faster. I have to introduce you.”

As they enter the orphanage, Y/N checks them in at the reception and fills out all necessary forms. Ben taps his foot nervously and scratches the back of his neck as they wait before one of Y/N’s former colleagues walks in with a little boy in hand, who’s no older than five.

Ben tries to smile but isn’t sure if it looks creepy, so he stops and opts for a more neutral expression. Y/N, however, immediately kneels down to the young boy and smiles brightly at him. It causes Ben’s heart to ache. She deserved to have all of this, but instead, she gave it all up for him.

“Hey, Benny,” she greets the boy. “You ready to meet your new adoptive parent?”

The boy scrunches his brow in careful suspicion as he eyes his future father-to-be. “I guess so,” he says. “Is that him? He looks like he drives a fucking minivan and offers candy to kids. Are you sure he’s not a pedo, Ms. Y/N?”

Ben purses his lips, biting the insides of his cheeks. The initial smile was definitely a mistake. They’re not off to a good start.

Y/N presses her lips together to muffle her snort. “Yes, Benny, I’m sure,” she replies patiently. “He’s cool, trust me.”

“Fine, whatever.” The kid rolls his eyes. “As long as he’s not fucking vegan like Ms. Teresa. They’re the worst.”

“Ugh, agreed! Do I look like a fucking plant-shitter to you?” Ben asks the boy rhetorically.

“No, you look like a fucking pedo to me,” the boy retorts.

Ben grins broadly at Y/N. “I like the kid. I think I get what you mean now. I see the resemblance.”

“Well, great. Glad you two are hitting it off… I think,” Y/N says with a crinkled brow, although a part of her is doubting her idea. Honestly, it’s wild she’s trusting him with a child. A year ago she would’ve thought that it was insane. “Alright, uh, Benny, this is, uhm–”

“Sam,” Ben proudly introduces himself with his fake name and shakes the kid’s hand. He then notices Y/N’s strange look. “What?”

“Nothing, just… you don’t really strike me as a Sam. That’s all,” she tells him in a whisper-tone, shrugging.

“Oh, really? Well, I don’t give a fuck. I love it,” Ben quips, grinning rather smugly.

“Fine.” Y/N sighs. She turns back to little Ben with a smile. “You guys ready to hit the road?”

“Where are we going?” Benny asks curiously and promptly takes Ben’s hand, dragging the older man through the doors. He’s been waiting to get out of the orphanage for a while, the excitement of finally being able to leave visible in every step he takes.

It’s a fresh start for both of them.

“Uh, Mount Rushmore,” Ben answers.

“Cool! Can we get burgers on the way there? I’m starving.”

“Sure can, kid.”

Y/N can see Ben’s initial hesitance until he eventually accepts it and eases into the situation, holding the boy’s hand tightly. He helps the kid into the car, even puts the seatbelt on, and shuts the door behind him.

Her heart twinges as she watches the two, wishing she could go with them if things were different. However, she knows the risk is too big. She would never forgive herself if she hurt either of them. She doesn’t trust herself enough yet. Maybe someday she can.

“You okay?” Ben asks as he sees the unshed tears brimming in her eyes. He’d dreaded this day for the past few weeks, hoping she’d still change her mind. He hates that this is goodbye, but he supposes he has to set her free now.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Y/N says with a forced smile, but a tear escapes and rolls down her cheek.

“C’mere.”

Y/N protests as Ben slings his arms around her and pulls her flush against him, holding her tightly. He hasn’t touched her since that night, but he doesn’t care anymore. He presses his lips against hers and tastes her one last time.

Breathlessly, Y/N withdraws and sniffles. “Are you fucking insane? I could kill you.”

Ben simply smiles at her. “Hey, if I die kissing you, then that’s a fucking great way to go out. ‘Sides, insanity is contagious,” he quips and sends her a wink. “Thank you… for everything, you know?”

“You’re welcome,” she says quietly and swallows harshly as the tears fall freely now. Not every film has a happy ending. “I guess I’ve done my job as your sponsor. You’ve been successfully rehabilitated.”

Ben snorts. “If by that you mean I’m fucking boring and responsible now then yeah, you’ve done your job.”

“You won’t be bored for long. The kid’s already trying to hotwire the car,” Y/N tells him, laughing.

“Wha–” Ben spins around and points a warning finger at the boy. “Ay! Hands in your fucking lap!”

The kid raises his palms in surrender and yells, “Hurry the fuck up!”

With a shaking head, Ben turns back to her. “Gotta watch that kid like an eagle,” he mutters. He exhales a dreaded breath and licks his lips. “So, I guess this is goodbye, huh?”

Y/N smiles softly, the corners of her mouth reaching her dimples. “Maybe.”

Little Ben gets me every time 😂 Alright, now you may yell and complain, but I love this bittersweet ending 🥲 (But of course, you're welcome to send in requests. Whether it's deleted scenes, bonus shots of a potential future, or some fun Big Ben/Little Ben drabbles)

Thank you so much for reading, for your gifs and comments! It's so appreciated! Without them, this would only be half the fun 🤍

I'll announce future plans soon. The final five of Plastic Hearts will probably be next up. Get ready 'cause it's another wild one! 🌟

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies @agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @imsapphine @globetrotter28

Series Tags: @nancymcl @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @sparkydonugh

#rehab #soldier boy #the boys #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy reader insert #the boys reader insert #the boys x reader #the boys amazon #the boys season 3 #the boys fanfic #soldier boy fanfic

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chaneajoyyy · 11 months

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SIR LEWIS HAMILTON FANFICTION

down bad series, forever is a long time series, obesessed with you series, revindicare series, flight rendezvous, bad for you mini series ( with 'where you belong and what happened in hawaii"), try me, daddy's got you, the artn of eating p*ssy, maps, super soaker, safety net, give me besos, full throttle, full throttle extended, cupid's kisses, touch starved, what kinks lewis has, "do i feel good daddy? you like that?", "look at yourself", cockwarming lewis, sinful and unholy thoughts 1&2, anal exploration, picture drabble, picture drabble 2, first time after pregnancy, never too mad at you, marks, case closed, it's been a while- @mauvecherie-writes

plus baby makes three, she calls me daddy now, one night; 1,2,3; if this is love... mini series; a long time coming series, just do it, show me, 4am drunk calls, forever & ever & ever & ever --- but not right now, lil' love, true peace, thirsty or parched series, taste the rainbow, love will remember, anon ask 'imagine... headcanon, forgive me, i am not a sinner mini series (search lewis hamilton fanfiction)- @royallyprincesslilly

i'll teach you, family hair day (search lewis hamilton x reader)- @shaytheeprettiest

, prompt list 8 "you said you wanted to be my friend", prompt list 7 "can you read my essay?", pormpt list 9 "can you pick me up?", it's just us against the world' jealousy, jealousy (search lewis hamilton imagine)-@thisismeracing

between us series (with: when our eyes met, clubbing night, i want you, not your girlfriend, commitment, grenanda, paddock time/paddock queen (2), tension/you got what you wanted/memories, yacht day, carnival days, you could never be me, paris fashion week, abu dhabi, welcome to namibia, halloween party/my little bunny, feels like vegas, welcome home, what are you afraid of? parts 1 and 2, bikini posts, wrong one, more tna a face, unimpressed, no matter how much they want it, i want it more; a part of you, lewis birthday, long distance relationship, confession, world champion, surprising paiama, twins dream, chocolate never tasted that good, family dinner, i know your secret, rovos rail, first red carpet, i wanted to protect you, just you and me, broncos game, pillow talk, friendly- @peyiswriting

cuff it, breaking point series (search: lewis hamilton x black reader)- @hopefulromantic1

instagram au, y/n pregnant headcanon-@words-4u

imagine series- @writinginfinite

the hamilton series- @yourstrulynix

bubble baths; god, i love you, motivate, wildside, we're meant to be, you're all mine, lace fantasy, baby angel, temporary fix/2, mykonos, partition, my champion, dress, the 1 series, purple frosting, baby steps, moments, on his thighs/ 2 (on his tongue), toffee- imthebadguyyy

call it what you want series- l@lew8s

lazy mornings, miami, fighting and making up, love songs, premiere, knight in a black race suit- @theundercoversquid

soft, soulmate shorts series- @itsfeckinwimdy

our cave, collapsing/epilogue, feel so close, freefall, in our humid afternoon, feel its idle hum, til kingdom come, ocean blue, when we're cheek to cheek (i feel it in my teeth), lay all your love on me, lights out, slow show, out your hands on me, between days, only now i see the light, a familiar home, take me back so tenderly, i stand in ruins behind you, both our skin, just the two of us, short form fics (lh)- @lewisyellowhelmet

the final push, matchmaker (search: lewis hamilton x reader)- @justjams2003

getting eloped (search: lewis hamilton)- @venus2eros

expect the unexpected, the best mistake, worth the wait-(search: lewis hamilton imagine)- @pierregas1yx

tiny hands (search lewis hamilton x reader)-@bellinghamilton

untouchable/2, the merc boys (search lewis hamilton)-@yungbludz

good boy- @tamix44

out of time series, acquainted series, professional series, rendezvous series, old flame series, forbidden fruit series, ina another life, miami, how do i make you love me?, the edge, into the nght, teammated, between friends, violet skies, ordinary life, the teacher, la petit mort, wicked games, rescue me, paris, his attention, boy dad, did it work?, our spot, the stranger, you know better, birthday girl, you're mine now, trouble, cabin in the woods-@lostinlewis

anonny ask: parents lewis x reader, anonny ask: breal, anonny asks: teasing, after hours, anonny asks: morning fun, off limits, anonny ask: post wedding s*x, anonny ask: babymaking, anonny asks: possessive!lewis, anonny ask: more than friends, anonny ask: overstimulation-@paradisehamilton

sweet escape series, falling through the cracks (search: lewis hamilton fanfic)- @lvis44

graduation- @saintslewis

antartica, workplace crushes and life lessons, little white lie, living the dream- @formula-hamilton

***IF YOU HAVE LEWIS HAMILTON FICS HIT MY LINE!!!***

#the plug #librarian at your service #let's chat #sip tea #talk fanfiction #talk sir lewis hamilton fanfiction #talk lewis hamilton fanfiction #sir lewis hamilton x black!reader #fanfiction #lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton fanfiction #sir lewis fanfiction

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incendio22 · 1 year

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Masterlist

(trying my very best to make a masterlist to make one space for my fics, sorry for blocking your feed a little. i’ve never done one before so pls dont hate me)

Also, it’s not finished yet but I will keep updating this <3

For the hope of it all

Word count: Approx. 108k words

About: During the summer between Y/n's 5th and 6th year at Hogwarts, she cannot stop thinking about Sebastian Sallow, despite the horrible things he did last year. She knows that what happened should have been the end of their relationship, but for some reason she does not consider it to be over. Something about him just makes her feel like home. One night Y/n discovers something that could mean the end of the wizarding world that requires help of Sebastian as well as Ominis. This is a story about love, friendship, betrayal and sacrifices.

Key words: fluff, angst, jealousy, heartbreak, friendship, young love

Chapter 1: The Letter

Chapter 2: The Hogwarts Express

Chapter 3: The First Day

Chapter 4: The Three Broomsticks

Chapter 5: The Duel

Chater 6: The Undercroft

Chapter 7: The Prophecy

Chapter 8: Reconciliation

Chapter 9: Quidditch Try-Outs

Chapter 10: The Room of Requirement

Chapter 11: A Friend In Deed

Chapter 12: One Step Forward

Chapter 13: Snow Falling

Chapter 14: A Cold Shoulder

Chapter 15: Slytherins And Dungeons

Chapter 16: The Story of Another Sallow

Chapter 17: Midnight

Chapter 18: New Year’s Ball

Chapter 19: The Plan

Chapter 20: Amortentia

Chapter 21: The Keepers

Chapter 22: Red Hearts, White Lies

Chapter 23: Pieces Fall Into Place

Chapter 24: The First Day of Spring

Chapter 25: A Gaunt Family Dinner

Chapter 26: The Result of Chaos

Chapter 27: Aftermath

Chapter 28: Winless Fight

Chapter 29: The House Cup

Part 2: Year 7

Part 2 Chapter 1: Welcome Back To Hogwarts

Part 2 Chapter 2: A Familiar Face

Part 2 Chapter 3: It’s Nice To Have A Friend

Part 2 Chapter 4: Twin Flame

Part 2 Chapter 5: Desperation

Part 2 Chapter 6: Bruised

Part 2 Chapter 7: A Man And His Quill

Part 2 Chapter 8: Anonymous

Part 2 Chapter 9: A Sebastian Sallow Date

Part 2 Chapter 10: The Second Note

Part 2 Chapter 11: To The Rescue

Part 2 Chapter 12: A Safe Place

Part 2 Chapter 13: The Hospital Wing

Part 2 Chapter 14: Heart To Heart

Part 2 Chapter 15: Starry Sky

Part 2 Chapter 16: Reunion

Part 2 Chapter 17: Jealousy, jealousy

Part 2 Chapter 18: Plans In The Making

Part 2 Chapter 19: Confessions

Part 2 Chapter 20: Good News

Part 2 Chapter 21: The Battle of The Castle

Part 2 Chapter 22: Coming Clean

Part 2 Chapter 23: A Feldcroft Getaway

Part 2 Chapter 24: A Hogwarts Christmas

Part 2 Chapter 25: Dreams About The Future

Part 2 Chapter 26: The Breaking

Part 2 Chapter 27: Fears And Dreams

Part 2 Chapter 28: The Calm Before The Storm

Part 2 Chapter 29: Happiness

Part 2 Chapter 30: The Goblin War

Part 2 Chapter 31: Remorse

Part 2 Chapter 32: Farewell, Hogwarts

Part 2 Chapter 33: Summer in Feldcroft

Epilogue and Author’s Note

#for the hope of it all #fanfic #fanfiction #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy #masterlist

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sezja · 1 year

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Febuwhump: Epilogue

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen

The package from the carpenters' guild arrives that morning - five days after their fraught night in the Shroud, and four after Sanson was sentenced to house arrest. The guards at his door, a pair of Adder lancers, cast incurious glances over the package and its contents, finding nothing objectionable therein; they've not been instructed to deny him any deliveries.

Nor have they denied him his few visitors.

Eve had arrived on the third day of his imprisonment. Even if the guards had been inclined to deny her access, her rank in the Twin Adder far superseded their own - and even had it not, who in their right mind could think to deny the Warrior of Light herself? So she'd passed a few bells with them, lamenting that she'd been unable to help... but, as Sanson explained, things had simply happened altogether too quickly for him to send for aid from anyone, let alone Eve, who had problems of her own to attend to.

But her visit had been good for Guydelot's spirits - aye, and Sanson's own, too; he'll not deny that.

Jehantel had visited the next day... and it was he who had mentioned that Guydelot's harp had been found deep in the East Shroud, cast aside into the underbrush with the strings severed. A bit worse for wear after its time in the elements, Jehantel had informed Sanson that he'd had the harp sent to the carpenters for repair and restoration...

And here it is, delivered at last.

Sanson hums quietly to himself as he carries the box toward the bedroom. Despite everything, he finds he's in an irrepressibly good mood - Guydelot is alive, after all, and with few lingering wounds to show for it. If his hands are still a touch stiff, 'tis no matter; the healers remain optimistic that with a bit more time and healing, he'll make a full recovery. But he is alive. Little else matters. All else is insubstantial next to this singular victory.

Sanson has not been relieved of his rank, though the matter hangs in limbo; much rests on Vorsaile - he has argued that extenuating circumstances demanded drastic action; that there was little time to seek aid through legitimate channels. That at the end of the day, Sanson's "quick thinking and decisive action" served to foil a plot that threatened to kindle the flames of war.

Too, it seems likely that Sanson's fate rests with Astarnaix's testimony, and how eager the man may be to incriminate himself.

I remember him giving the order to kill Guydelot, Sanson thinks, his grip tightening on the box in his hands. I remember it all too well. He'd arrived as the order was being given.

He remembers the Ala Mhigan sword, awkward in the grip of a man better-accustomed to a lance, hovering above Guydelot - ready to strike the killing blow. And he remembers his own howl of rage, the world going red at the edges, terror and fury surging like a black tide, and...

And then he remembers little else, only cradling Guydelot in his arms while the healer worked. He'd not even recognized her at first - all he'd cared about was Guydelot; Guydelot's safety, and getting him home.

He lets out a slow breath, pausing in the doorway of the bedroom.

Sleeping again.

Guydelot has slept a good deal of the past five days; the healers assure Sanson it's simply his body's way of recuperating after his three-day ordeal, to say nothing of healing from his injuries. His hands are still a mess of bruises, fading to brownish-green, and the corners of his mouth remain red and cracked where the bastards had muzzled him-

Calm.

"Guydelot," he says, gently, sitting carefully on the bed. He watches the man sleep for a moment longer: he's peaceful, his chest rising and falling beneath the blankets, eyelashes fluttering as he dreams. Sanson considers setting the box aside and curling in beside him, sleeping the day away - as he had the first day of his willing imprisonment, simply spending the day nestled beside Guydelot, letting each breath reassure him that his bard was home and safe and alive. Not the worst way to pass the time.

But he shakes the man's shoulder instead, as gently as he can. Guydelot's eyes flutter open, distant and dreaming a moment longer... and then they drift to Sanson's face.

A slow, dreamy smile spreads over his lips.

"Mornin', Chief."

Affection leaves him breathless and dizzy for a moment. He returns the smile, willing himself not to get choked up; each time he does, Guydelot fears it's distress over the prospect of losing his rank, his unit, his career-

It's the furthest thing from Sanson's mind.

Instead, he presents the box. "I've a gift for you," he says. "Delivered just this morning, care of Jehantel."

"Jehantel," Guydelot repeats, quizzical, as he sits up. He takes the box, lifts the lid...

And then he does choke up, blinking back tears as he lifts the harp from the box. His hands shake, and Sanson suspects it isn't lingering pain from his injuries. Guydelot cradles the mended harp in his hands, smiling at it as though he's been reunited with an old friend.

"Hells," he whispers, delicately plucking one fresh string. A note sounds, pure and sweet. "Swive me, I thought it'd been lost. I remember that bastard cutting the strings, and then..." He trails off.

Sanson sets the empty box aside, peels off his clothing, and climbs into the bed beside his lover. "It seems Jehantel went searching for it, after your rescue. I confess, I'd not thought to search, myself - I was more concerned with finding you."

Guydelot carefully, reverently sets the harp in its familiar place on the bedside table - his hands have some healing left to do before they're fit to do more than pluck a note or two - and then he lies back down, curling into Sanson's embrace. He settles his head on Sanson's chest, heaving a sigh of quiet contentment.

Little by little, their lives return to normal.

"Heard anything from Vorsie?"

"Don't call him that," Sanson says, playfully tugging on the bard's ear. "No. Not yet."

Guydelot's eyes close. "Sorry about all this, Sanson."

Gods, I don't care about any of it. Strangely, uncharacteristically, Sanson finds himself content to drift without aim for a time; he's spared little thought for the Adders these past five days. Perhaps that may change once Guydelot makes a full recovery; perhaps then he'll find himself anxious to return to his duties and worried to find there are no duties to return to - but for now, little matters beyond this bed, this man, and the way Sanson's heart feels full to bursting every time he looks at Guydelot.

"I've every confidence things will work out," he says, for what feels like the thousandth time. He wraps his arms around Guydelot as best he can, pressing his lips to the top of the man's head. "Commander Heuloix assures me he has involved the Seedseers in this matter, and they cannot help but see that my actions are outweighed by the threat Astarnaix's plan posed to the Twelveswood."

Guydelot nuzzles Sanson's collarbone. "Aye, well, I'll put my faith in Vorsie, then."

"As will I." And if the Commander should fail, then... what? He'll be stripped of his rank, Sanson supposes; demoted, if not outright dismissed from the Grand Company. Strange, how little the prospect troubles him. But he recalls how swiftly his men followed his orders, despite knowing they would likely face punishment for it, themselves - if he is forced to leave the Adders, will his men follow?

They very well may. Guydelot will; Sanson doesn't begin to question that. And then what? He supposes he could follow Eve, join the Scions...

"And what about Nourval?"

Sanson blinks, surprised. "Nourval?"

"Any word about him?"

"Nothing new, I'm afraid." Jehantel had brought word about Nourval, as well, during his visit several days ago: the man is being kept under close watch as he convalesces, but the healers remain optimistic that he will make a full recovery. What becomes of him - whether his sentence is lengthened, as befits a man who escaped from prison, or shortened, as befits a hero of the Twelveswood, remains to be seen. It likely rests upon the knife's edge that is Sanson's own fate, and what the Seedseers make of his rash decisions. But he will live. And so will his willful, stubbornly determined sister, currently still in the Order's custody.

Her own fate depends strongly on whether or not her parents can be proven to have been complicit in Astarnaix's schemes. Sanson hopes, for Raicheille's sake as well as Nourval's, they were not.

Guydelot heaves another sigh, the breath of it tickling Sanson's skin. "Can't believe you put me in that bloody bastard's debt," he says, without heat. "Now I'll have to write him a thank-you note or something."

"I doubt he likes it any more than you." Sanson slides his hand into Guydelot's hair, threading his fingers through it. "Though I daresay he appreciated the opportunity to confront his past."

"That's me," Guydelot teases, letting his own hand slide over Sanson's skin beneath the blankets, drifting lower. "Proper charitable, always giving people the chance to be their best selves-"

"Guydelot-" Sanson arches, startled and aroused all at once; injured or no, the bard's hands are skilled. "Guydelot, your wounds-"

"Are healing nicely." The bard grins, lifting his head from Sanson's chest. "See? Getting plenty of dexterity back."

Indeed you are. Sanson grasps Guydelot's wrist, stilling him. "Guydelot..."

A shadow crosses the man's eyes. "I'm fine, Chief. It's just a few bruises; I'm not made of glass."

Sanson sighs; he remembers feeling much the same way after his own rescue... aye, and seeking to claim control over his own body again in much the same way, too. And he recalls his own frustration when Guydelot had been reluctant, so careful with him...

He understands a little better now.

Sitting back up, he straddles Guydelot's hips. "Fine," he says, fighting the urge to smile, to laugh. To sing. "But lie back and rest, then. I've had precious little work to do, these past few days."

Guydelot does smile, his grin returning in full bloom, as his hands slide deftly up Sanson's thighs. "That's me," he says again. "Proper charitable, letting my favorite workaholic get the itch to do all the work out of his system."

The future may be uncertain, Sanson thinks... but the present is all he needs for the moment.

#sanson smyth #guydelot thildonnet #my writing #I'M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG but here it is #they're gonna be okay <3

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terrainofheartfelt · 1 year

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lizwas fanfics: 2022 in review

so this was my second year ever of writing and posting on ao3, and for me, because I have chronic tunnel vision when it comes to tasks, thought I would do a look back at all I've written this year because hoooooooooooo boy 'twas a lot.

To render again and receive | 12.8k | E an unexpected addition to the little women au-verse, but very fun and delightful to put together! from Dan's pov, taking place between chapters 1 & 2 of a Heart in port.

But you can make decisions too | 11.1k | M an installment of my Date season 4 AU - Saints & Sinners, but with a gay twist!

all the things you are (are mine) | 4.3k | E a smutty valentine's fic starring Dair, as it is their holiday after all

I'm stuck on your heart | 4.7k | M a valentine's day fic for Dan/Nate, inspired by that one bit in schitt's creek

(everything you say sounds like) sweet talk | 3.5k | T season 4 Dair au, inspired by Jonah and Amy from Superstore

such a lot of world to see | 23.1k | E part of the Mouthful of Forevers s6 and beyond au. Dan and Blair spend the summer backpacking through Europe (well, Blair's definition of backpacking)

an ever-fixèd mark | 5.3k | E another unplanned addition to the floating castle dreams series, brought on by s2 of Bridgerton and that one scene in atonement

it's something new (because of you) | 3.9 | E part of what I call the Milo-verse. Dan and Blair get married and are soooooooo sappy about it. A smutty scene from Dan and Blair's honeymoon in Tuscany.

without effusion of blood | 6.1k | E just what happened after 2.18 when Blair brought Carter Baizen home? this fic tries to answer that question.

the whole web of it | 4.8k | G future fic in the MoF series. Dan celebrates his birthday with his wife and kids. tooth rottin fluff.

(the more you say) the less I know | 70.9k | T the big one of the year, the Pride and Prejudice AU, starring Dan as Lizzie, Blair as Darcy, and a whole host characters causing drama and comedy alike

that’s the kind of love (I’ve been dreaming of) | 3.4 | E absolutely filthy kinky sequel to a smut oneshot from last year. Married!Dair being total simps for each other

for better or worse and the promise of verse | 19k | E another installment in the Miloverse. AKA The One Where Blair and Dan Get Married. Possibly the sappiest thing I have ever written.

where the sun falls down on me | 29k | M Jenny goes to spend the summer off from uni in the Hamptons, with her brother and his fiancée (ugh), and their best friend, her old pal Nate Archibald. Jenate, with a side of Dair & Rufly.

at first chance | 7.1k | E smutastic epilogue to the above. Jen spends an evening alone in Nate’s new flat, waiting for him to get back from his bar shift. Nate’s not the best at building furniture.

let love consume me | 2.1k | E dairthaniel pwp. no context necessary.

never for money, always for love | 25k | NR collection of drabbles written to one word prompts on tumblr. Enclosed is: Dair, Date, van der Humphreys, Haizen, Blairena, Jenate, Serenessa, Dangina, Dairthaniel, Serenate, and much fluff angst and canon divergence.

punch drunk kiss (I know you need it) | 2.4k | E Dan x Carter Baizen. Carter pov following one of the drabbles above. P.W.P. Written for Kinktober

twin flame bruise | 15.2k | T Derena. An au of the musical The Last Five Years. Dan and Serena’s loving but doomed relationship, told in flashes and vignettes from each person’s perspective. with a side of dairfair.

anyway the wind blows | 2.6k | T inspired by the song “Westbound BART,” an imagined prequel of how Rufus Humphrey met Alison in late 80s San Francisco.

a hard day’s night | 4.5k | E porn with a little bit of plot. Blair comes home after a long day at the office and asks Dan for a favor to help her unwind. Written for Kinktober.

like a lightbulb in a dark room | 4.3k | E Dairthaniel. Written for Kinktober. smut with a soupçon of plot.

the love that let us share our name | 7.5k | T dilf!Date! the story of how Nate and Dan Humphrey become dads. Written after my dilf!date headcanons

can’t believe you notice me | 3.6k | E season 3 coat closet scene, but make it Dan/Nate. AU in which Nate is Dan and Olivia’s third, bringing up feelings for these sweet himbos.

a snowfall kind of love | 49k | T AU of Nancy Meyer’s The Holiday. Vanessa and Blair switch houses for their Christmas vacations, and end up falling for people in the other’s respective cities. Dair & Natessa, featuring special appearances by Milo Humphrey and Cyrus Rose.

#gossip girl #HOLY SHIT that’s a long list!#no wonder I’m tired lmao #thank you all so so so much for reading and caring it means a great deal to me ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️#liz’s ficz #smut fics are locked on ao3 #which means you will have to log in to your ao3 account to read #please read responsibly

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blessyourhondahurley · 1 year

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You're Here

A continuation of On My Way to You. Dean meets his match at a junior high dance.

Suptober prompt: Flames Flufftober prompt: First Dance Fictober prompt: "You know I'd do anything." Inktober prompt: Tempting

(Read on AO3)

The gymnasium is almost unrecognizable. Balloons and streamers and cardboard cutouts cover the walls. Glittering garlands flicker like flames under colored lights, transforming the aesthetic from “Phys Ed torture chamber” to “party on a budget”. The smell of stale sweat and old socks persists, though, steadfast in its role protecting the revelers from accidentally overdosing on “Enchantment Under the Sea.”

Dean didn't want to come out to this thing at all, but his little brother had pushed and pushed. “I bet you'll meet your soulmate!” he'd insisted. “You said your mark's been feeling weird. That means they're close!”

And yeah, the little arrow-shaped mark on his hip has been particularly itchy and tender ever since the start of the school year. But Lawrence Junior High holds over 1500 students. What are the odds he would bump into his special someone in a crowd that size?

“It'll happen,” Sam had assured him. “Soulmates find each other. When you meet them, you'll know.”

The kid reads too many damn fairy tales.

But whatever, okay, he's here. Now what?

They're three songs in to first dance of the year, and there isn't a soul on the dance floor. Over the PA speakers, some boy band croons Baby you know I'd do anything to be your lover while the entire student body performs their best impression of a field of blushing thirteen-year-old wallflowers. Tight clusters of girls giggle on the bleachers. Ragged knots of boys take turns punching each other's arms by the climbing ropes.

The mark on Dean's hip burns hotter than ever. For lack of anything better to do, he heads over to the snack table.

As he's making his choice from a tempting plate of multicolored mini cupcakes, someone nudges into him hard from behind. His body lurches forward and his sore hip takes a painful blow from the edge of the table. The impact sets the punch bowl sloshing dangerously.

At that point, several very important things happen in very quick succession: Dean puts out a hand to steady the bowl. A boy standing on the other side of the table does the same. As the boy moves, his sleeve rides up, and Dean sees an arrow on his wrist, a perfect twin to the one on his hip. Dean looks up from that arrow into the bluest eyes he's ever seen. And Dean knows.

He just... knows.

Epilogue here...

#suptober22 #flufftober2022 #fictober22 #destiel #supernatural #day 25

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saintobio · 2 years

Note

hihi i know you're tired rn so you can just read this ask as something that would help your mind to focus on smth else from the rude anons or read this later on :P or u can don't read at all, idm! i feel like it's quite angsty dioshsksnsjdhddd

“You wanna hear a secret?”

“…”

“I don’t think I can love you the same way I loved my first wife. Even if you try your best, she was everything I wanted in life and the only woman I could ever offer my heart to. She’s irreplaceable.”

what if gojo says this to utahime after yn already passed at the end of sy because of a heart attack? maybe this is the convo gojo is going to have with utahime regarding their relationship and how to move forward after this. i have a feeling that there's a "but" after that quote ends, maybe it's gojo saying that he loves utahime differently, just not the same way as when he loved yn.

i think yn will get a heart attack when she's alone. just a thought, at the time she collapses is when gojo and utahime are getting married at a venue and sachi's there (because he's gojo's son after all why wouldn't he be there). toji and yn are not together anymore, so yn is left alone at home. the stress on her heart was too much for her to handle anymore, causing her to get a heart attack but nobody is there to help her. her last thought before she lost conscious is "im all alone" and "im sorry sachi".

ok and then after yn passed, gojo falls asleep on his bed due to exhaustion but then he dreams of yn. yn telling him that she loves him, yn telling him goodbye and to have a happy life (all of this happening while saturn by sleeping at last playing in the background cuz yea angsty!) then at the end of chap14, in his dreams, yn waves at him and walks away while gojo watches her leave.

this is a parallel to the ending part of twin flames by mgk:

go to sleep [gojo asking yn to rest easy eternally]

i'll see you in my dreams [gojoyn's final closure in gojo's dreams]

this changes everything [facing the reality that yn is not alive and on earth anymore]

now i have to set you free [gojoyn saying goodbye to each other and walk different paths now –> gojo continue living his life while yn meets her mom in the afterlife]

ok and then in the epilogue gojo moves on, grows old and then he dies and reunite with yn in the afterlife.

see you later (ten years) by jenna raine:

cause time wasn't in our favour [yn dying suddenly]

this isn't goodbye, this is simply see you later [them waving in his dreams was just like " goodbye, see you later in the afterlife "when it's gojo's time?]

...

the memories won't go away [memories gojo had of yn being alive]

i feel pain every time i hear your name [when people talk about yn in past tense, in front of gojo]

oh no why is this giving the-ending-scenes-of-the-red-sleeve/ goblin vibes... hope you enjoyed this little angst, saint!!

oh noooo u guys complain abt too much angst but you all love giving me angsty ideas 😭 that’s a rly great theory tho !!!

#🖤: letters to saint #series: sincerely yours #tw.death #tw.illness

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maplemouse-warriors · 1 year

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I wanted to give a quick overview of the different AUs/projects/rewrites that are going on here!

Clans of the Wild AU/Rewrite: An AU up to Po3, and then a rewrite of Omen of the Stars as well as A Vision of Shadows (renamed Clans of the Wild), which is treated as an epilogue arc.

Features: Hollystar, Hawkfrost redemption arc, and Brambleflower and Squirrelflight’s litter of 5 (Aldershade, Sparkstorm, Goldbreeze, Hawkpool, and Redcloud) changing Clan culture.

Tag: Clans of the Wild

Twin Flames Rewrite: A rewrite of the whole series with the premise that Rusty and Princess are the two kittypets that join WindClan as apprentices early on in Onestar’s Confession; Princess (Wildpaw) ends up in ThunderClan after WindClan is driven from the moors, and Rusty (Firepaw) remains in WindClan.

Features: Wildflame and Sandstar as lesbians, Firestar adopting and raising Onewhisker and Smoke’s kits (Squirrel, Leaf, and Dark), and Power of Four, where each Clan gets a prophesied cat.

Tag: Twin Flames Rewrite

Reincarnation AU: An AU in which StarClan is dedicated to keeping the river of fate running smoothly, and Tigerclaw just keeps tossing boulders into it.

Features: Squirrelflight and Leafpool are Redtail and Spottedleaf reincarnated, and Hollyleaf is reincarnated Hawkfrost.

Tag: Reincarnation AU

Tundra Colonies: An extremely self-indulgent semi-warriors-ification of the Barbie and the Magic of Pegasus.

Features: Fun politics! Magic and lesbians! Wildblaze, who is so tired and doesn’t want to be here!

Tag: Tundra Colonies

Path of the Clans: A Powered by the Apocalypse Warriors table-top roleplaying game I’m developing. Let me know if you want the handbook!

Features: A reputation system and a 2d6-based game.

Tag: Path of the Clans

#warriors #warrior cats #warriors rewrite #warriors au #clans of the wild #twin flames rewrite #reincarnation au #tundra colonies #path of the clans

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helenarasmussen87 · 1 year

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Sasuke and Naruto thoughts

I've been re-reading the series and I also got some of the novels so I'm just rambling about Naruto so just putting that under the cut.

I was talking to a friend about how Naruto and Sasuke are the true love story of the original and how it was choreographed and telegraphed no matter what. Sasuke knew he loved Naruto earlier, because Naruto needed to grow in that area and the last fight was their realisation.

I've read meta explaining this and maybe it's my background (I teach English and Literature) and the points are well thought out and make sense. But for the het ships, I just can't find compelling points unless it is a retcon, or things like the Retsuden novels.

And I am in the process of reading them and...Yikes. Especially Sasuke's story...which sadly reads like a fanfic of someone who didn't get what they wanted, so they're going to impose their own version and push for it being canon.

I guess what kind of scratched at my brain was that even in fanfiction, you still work from the canon motivatios and then go to town. At least, that's how I view it and you build it up from there.

Sasuke doesn't feel *real* in Retsuden. Yes, people can change, but with both Sasuke and Naruto...They are twin flames. Whether they meet up at the Shag Shack once every two weeks while they take care of the village is beside the point. They both come first in each other's lives.

(And it is heavily implied even in the new canon that's always the case. I think Sarada and Boruto have stated this in so many words. And their wives know, but they want their men (prizes, status symbols), so they adhere to this, even though everyone is pretty miserable no matter what way you paint it)

But all of Sasuke's actions, like the ring and being all over Sakura don't work due to what we see of him before. There's no building up to him getting to that point. He has a thing with Naruto because they grow together. Sakura and Sasuke don't. Naruto and Hinata don't.

There's never this separation between them, like in other media where the partners establish they're done with each other. Or not.

And it reminded me of the 2003 Battlestar Galactica, where despite Starbuck and Adama trying to leave each other, and marrying other people...The tie was always strong between them. No one ever loved them like they loved each other.

Lee Adama's wife knew this and tried and he did too. Starbuck and her husband too.

Adama and Starbuck basically show everyone how strong that tie is when they get into a ring and end up going from a friendly boxing match, to them beating each other bloody and then both acknowledging what is between them.

And I immediately thought of Valley of the End. Because it was exactly that.

There is no real defining moment for the het couples in Naruto like that. It's all very "Yes, well get the epilogue cleaned up" and go on to the sequel.

Like no other scene with the canon couples lived up to that intensity and that love. Both declarations of love were ignored. Domestic life is distant and cold and there's no real connection. Like when Sakura buys flowers for when Sasuke comes home as if to erase all of his absences. Or how Naruto falls asleep watching a romance with Hinata and his son is there playing video games...together, yet apart.

Yet we get time and time again, proof that Naruto and Sasuke's connection that is still thriviing despite the burdens they each shoulder. They are connected and meet frequently and still just come alive when they are together.

They parent each other's kids! Naruto mentors Sarada and Boruto is Sasuke's apprentice. Talk about setting up the blended family here.

So that's why the Retsuden was so jarring because one, Sasuke went on a mission to help heal Naruto's illness. That was his main reason. The other stuff is so discordant with what we've been presented with.

And it's mostly in this one, since the last Sasuke novel emphasized how much Sasuke valued Naruto over everything. The about face is not set up for showing that. Or for him to play happy families and be some sort of prize for Sakura to show off.

I thought about it and I know this is why I am annoyed. It's not the story, but the poor story telling and shoving elements which do not belong in it and sell it as a love story.

It is worrisome because these couples are the textbook example of "We married young and now that the flush is gone and reality set in...We have nothing in common. And we're staying together for the kids"

Whereas Naruto and Sasuke grew into their relationship and that's why them being apart doesn't matter. That thread is always there and that's why they work as lovers and a couple when these other ones don't.

Temari and Shikmaru, Ino and Sai, and Asuma and Kurenai as well as Minato and Kushina work, because we see the organic growth and how they support and mutually respect each other. Ino has emphatically stated that she wouldn't stand for that kind of marriage if it were her. Shikamaru and Temari both train with their kid and work together. Asuma and Kurenai were never really shown together, but there were enough hints to show their love for each other. Minato and Kushina had history from since they were kids.

Even Fugaku and Mikoto had a relationship that was believeable.

So it can be done. But not with this and that's why it feels like cheap writing. And why it fails.

#meta #naruto uzumaki #sasuke uchiha #storytelling #meta naruto #character meta

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sunnebeam · 9 months

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twin flame bruise. (02)

PART 2.

pairing: jeon jeongguk x reader, jeon jungkook x reader (yes they're different people)

plot: the jeon twins have become nothing more than two strikingly similar looking guys who share a mere home address and a last name. but in their senior year of college, the estranged twins may have found one more thing they share in common – you.

warnings: jeon twins au, possible headache bc the use of Jeongguk (nicknamed Guk) and Jung Kook (nicknamed JK) is v confusing, mentions of money laundering, strained family relationships

series index. | masterlist + disclaimers.

note: part 2 is here!!! this will have 8 parts + an epilogue btw! each part will more or less have the same word count as this one (since i still struggle writing long pieces),,, no update schedule, we just chillin' here and writing things when we have the time and energy <3 as always, feedback is highly appreciated!

It’s been a month and a half since Jung Kook last had a good night’s sleep.

But he supposes it could be worse. After all, the bed he’s laying on is decently soft, the pillows are freshly fluffed, and the bedroom he’s occupying doesn’t have that dusty-old-room smell. Yoongi really outdid himself with this one.

“Hey, kid.”

Speak of the devil.

JK turns on his side, his back facing the opened door and the person entering it. He hears another set of footsteps that tells him Namjoon just entered, too. Still, he doesn’t budge.

He knows his being a bit too hard on his two companions, but JK can’t help it.

“I know you’re mad at us…”

He’s not, actually. He’s mad at the situation.

“...and I know you hate this place…”

Not exactly. It’s a decent house. He just prefers his own.

“...but it’s still too dangerous right now. Please understand, kid, we need to hide away for a while. Make things die down a bit before going home.”

Home. He wants to go home. To his apartment. To his bed. To you.

JK sighs. He already had this particular talk with both Yoongi and Namjoon a hundred times already in the past month alone. He doesn’t mean to be so difficult but the situation just frustrates him to no end.

But then again, this is his own fault.

Entering the underground world of money laundering – even as an errand boy at the bottom of the food chain – wasn’t the greatest idea for a side job. But when you’re an impressionable college student mixing in with the wrong crowds, you don’t exactly make the best choices.

What started as a small, risky gig to earn some extra cash turned into an endless cycle of running his clients’ dirty money around different places and concealing them in clean, legal transactions.

He tried hiding his little errands from you but you were too observant for your own good. Though you don’t exactly know what he’s gotten himself into, you do know it’s dangerous. In fact, you told him time and again to get out and get his shit together. But by the time JK finally got his head out of the gutter and tried to leave, he couldn’t.

Because you needed money.

Money has always been a sore spot for you, having struggled financially for as long as you could remember. And yet, not once have you asked for his help nor forced him to put himself in risky situations just to help you out. Unfortunately for you, JK is nothing if not stubborn, and if there’s a way he could help you, he’ll do it.

But this time, though, he fucked up.

“You didn’t fuck up,” Namjoon interrupts his self-deprecating thoughts. “It’s not your fault, JK. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

But it is his fault. After all, their latest client was dangerous, influential, powerful. This client was not to be messed with, not to be stood up, not to be denied…

…and yet JK backed out of the deal at the last minute.

“You were right to back out,” Yoongi reassures him. “I wasn’t sure about that client, either.”

“You’re just saying that,” JK says.

“I’m not. If you hadn’t called to back out, I probably would’ve. Either way, the man's pissed off so we need to lie low for a bit, yeah? Don’t brood too much."

Yoongi turns and heads out the door, motioning for Namjoon to follow him out, but not before calling out to their younger companion for one last thing.

“You got a good heart, kid. Don’t worry, you’ll get home soon.”

And he will. He just has to hold out a bit more.

He can’t. He can’t hold out any more.

Jeongguk looks at the caller ID with panicked eyes, the incessant ringing of his phone echoing in his ears, and he realizes he can’t put off answering any longer.

Swiping the green button, he holds his phone to his ear and internally hypes himself up, before finally talking to his parents.

“Eomma.”

“Well, hello to you, too,” his mother responds sarcastically. “I was beginning to think we didn’t have a son anymore, with you not answering our calls and your brother giving us the silent treatment.”

His brother.

Guk pinches the bridge of his nose, wondering how he can keep feeding his mother the lie that his twin brother was just in one of his so-called moods and took an impromptu vacation somewhere.

He feels horrible for lying but he also doesn’t want to unnecessarily worry his parents on the fifty-fifty chance that his younger twin really did just take some time to himself without telling anybody. And maybe it makes Guk a terrible brother but he really thinks JK is capable of such a thing – of just going off the grid and not warning anyone.

But that’s the best case scenario.

As for the worst case scenario, the two of you already went to the police station to report his twin as missing. But since the last text he sent was telling you he was going somewhere and explicitly telling you not to follow him, the police couldn’t do much.

Still, Guk is nothing if not thorough, so he takes it upon himself to call in some favors and hire a private investigator. As of now, he’s still waiting for some updates.

“Sorry, Eomma, I’m a bit busy with homework,” Guk tries to placate his mother through the phone but at the mention of the last word, he’s reminded that he actually has company in his apartment right now when Taehyung and Jimin snort at his lame excuse.

“Homework?” his mother repeats. “You work too hard, Gukie,” she sighs. “If only your brother was more like you…”

Again with the comparisons.

“Nah, he’s alright, Eomma,” he defends. “Y’know, he’s not failing his classes, right?”

“Yeah, well, he’s not excelling in his classes, either.”

“He doesn’t have to. Cut him some slack.” At this point, he’s getting tired of the nagging, even though it’s not directed at him. This kind of nagging is the exact reason his parents’ relationship with his younger twin is so strained in the first place. “Anyways, tell Appa I said hi, will you? I gotta go. Bye. Love you.”

He hangs up.

“Damn, Guk,” Jimin sighs. “Still haven’t told your parents?”

“I’ll tell them at some point, okay? I just need to make sure that JK didn’t leave on his own on a whim.”

“You still think that?” Taehyung asks incredulously. “I highly doubt he went missing on his own. Hell, even Y/N doubts that.”

At the mention of your name, Guk can’t help the slight reddening of his cheeks, something his friends immediately notice.

Taehyung smirks. “Looks like someone’s got a crush.”

He doesn’t even bother responding because how could he not have a crush? His growing, albeit awkward, relationship with you is plaguing his thoughts every minute since he met you. In between discussions about his twin’s possible whereabouts, your other conversations allow him to learn more about you, and what he learns is that you’re passionate, driven, diligent – all the good things.

And of course, to top all that off, you’re fucking beautiful, too. It’s no wonder that, despite the unlabeled situationship, his brother fell for you.

Guk just hopes, when all this is over, you’ll give him a chance.

Nope, you won’t give him a chance.

You stare at the customer who has the audacity to only order side dishes and nothing else again. He usually gets away with his request when your boss, Seojoon, is manning the counter. But with you? Nope, you’re not giving him another chance.

"You need to buy more than just pickled radish before I let you eat in this pub," you tell him, arms crossed. Your manager, Yiseo, is at your side, tapping her foot expectantly, her eyebrows raised.

He scoffs.

"Rude," he grumbles. "What if people find out you're turning away customers?"

"You can't be a customer if you only order the free side dishes," Yiseo retorts.

"At least I pay for the rice," he grumbles when a hand lands on his shoulder.

"That you do, Jin," your boss says, inserting himself into the conversation. He then tells Yiseo to cater to another customer who wants more drinks, before turning to you. "Y/N, why don't you prepare Seokjin's food while I show him to his table?"

You sigh, complying with the request and ignoring Jin's annoying smirk directed your way. Well, if Seojoon wants his business to be at a deficit, it's all on him.

Besides, you suppose you owe Jin now since Guk hired him, and being hired to investigate a missing person's whereabouts definitely isn't a walk in the park.

And speaking of Guk…

"Hey, Y/N."

Ah. Right on time.

"Hey, Guk," you greet him, waving your hand stiffly and awkwardly. Yiseo sees your shaky wave from across the pub and teasingly wiggles her eyebrows, but you silently plead with her to not make a comment.

After all, this has already become an everyday occurrence.

Everyday, a few hours before your shift ends, Guk visits the pub and eats with Jin, ordering a generous amount of actual food to compensate for the latter's small meal. Then, later at night after you close up, he walks you home – sometimes updating you on Jin's progress with the case, sometimes just talking to you about anything under the moon.

You've grown closer with him, without a doubt, but you can't deny that you're in an awkward situation – what, with your history involving his twin and all. You cringe internally when you remember the time Seojoon mistook him for JK, much to your embarrassment.

"Seokjin's over there." You point him to the table where the man is eating.

Guk looks at the direction you're pointing to before turning back to you with his eyebrows scrunched. You're about to ask him what's wrong when you see his hand reach towards your face, more specifically, your cheek.

"Eyelash," he says as an explanation, pulling the offending object from your cheek, completely oblivious to how you freeze up at his touch and proximity.

When he finally mumbles a low, "see you later," and heads to Jin's table, Yiseo rushes over to you and gives you a pointed look.

"I see you have a type."

"Please," you whine. "Don't."

She laughs at your expense, patting your shoulder and bumping her hips against yours playfully.

"Y'know," she starts, "you should consider giving him a chance."

"Unnie!"

"What?"

It's your turn to give her a pointed look. "Did you forget he's JK's brother? His twin brother?"

"Yeah, well, your fuckbuddy isn't here, so…" She shrugs. “I don’t see why you can’t ask him on a date.”

You sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself, your eyes downcast. "I can't even afford to go on dates, let alone have time for it."

It's the truth. Dates entail time and money – things you don't have. And it's not like you have any family to help you out, having been orphaned at a young age. You’ve only ever had yourself to rely on. That’s how it’s always been.

"Y/N."

You're pulled out from your thoughts when you see Guk approach you with wide eyes.

"Hey, Guk. Did you want more rice?"

"No. I, uh—" He looks from you to Seokjin who's frantically typing away on his phone back at their table. "Jin and I were just…"

He trails off. You stare at him, waiting.

After what feels like a hundred years, he finally gathers the resolve to tell you the three words you've been wanting to hear.

"We found him."

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waynes-multiverse · 1 year

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Rehab – Series Masterlist

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F!Reader

Series Warnings: +18, enemies to friends to lovers (?), smut (a mix of rough, sweet, and dirty), tw: suicide attempt & sexual assault, violence, lots of drugs & drinking, strong language & derogatory terms, SB being his charming self at times, human!Soldier Boy aka soft!Ben, more warnings in individual chapters

A/N: Very excited to share this series with y’all! It’s a bit dark and rough in certain places while it’s hilarious and sweet in others. And weirdly, this series was inspired by MGK songs (see chapter titles). Don’t judge, tho. The lyrics and vibes fit, and I can’t control the muse, okay? 😝

Main Masterlist || Soldier Boy Masterlist

Prologue: rehab

Chapter 1: maybe

Chapter 2: papercuts

Chapter 3: why are you here

Chapter 4: 9 lives

Chapter 5: jawbreaker

Chapter 6: bad things

Chapter 7: make up sex

Chapter 8: sid & nancy

Epilogue: twin flame

C O M P L E T E

#rehab masterlist #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy series #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy fic #the boys fic #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys fanfiction #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy x you #soldier boy fanfic #soldier boy reader insert

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ikesenhell · 1 year

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A Sun Long Gone, Chapter Nine

You can find all masterlists at the top of my page (AO3, Genshin Impact, Ikemen Sengoku, and Ikemen Vampire). NOTES: This work is 18+. THIS IS THE FINAL OFFICIAL CHAPTER (sans Epilogue). TW: IMPLIED SPOILERS FOR THE SUMERU ARCHON QUEST. IYKYK. Suicidal ideation, blood, pain, general distress, horror elements. The Cataclysm. Grief. Death. Unfair/unkind emotions.

Thank you for reading this. I hope it was satisfying, if painful. May love be a shield around you, too, even if you've forgotten.

---

If Dainsleif ever had the chance to ask Celestia a question (or whatever was actually responsible for creation and all life therein) and the wherewithal not to swing first, one of the first that came to mind was this: How was it that terrible things could happen so suddenly? What providence allowed for someone to wake up and behave as if they had a tomorrow when they did not? If fate was so assuredly written in the stars as the astrologers believed, why had they not descended to Khaenri’ah by the score, spreading news of the incoming calamity? Beware! Disaster looms! But by the time he ever considered this, his memory was already fragmented.

This wasn’t all bad. Time and forgetfulness healed some wounds. He no longer woke in the middle of the night, breathless and drenched in sweat, plumes of smoke and red skies burning in his dreams. He no longer remembered with crystal clarity how Khaenri’ahns writhed in pain and twisted into shells of themselves, contorted and screaming–even when they no longer had the same voices to scream with. He no longer saw the ash and blood in the streets behind his closed eyes, or recalled how Torsten’s blood tasted when the man fell to the onslaught, or heard the bells chiming danger, danger, danger in his skull. And no longer could he remember when first he felt the sharp, agonizing, crushing pain of the curse. His voice had cracked from shrieking. That much was all he could say.

The Cataclysm was over. The Cataclysm was over, and he remembered it only in pieces, and the Cataclysm was never over, never, never, never. Dainsleif woke with the same pain every morning; he walked the roads with it; he looked at his hands and feet and face and saw it reflected back at him. Nothing took it from him. No alcohol or time could stop that eternal agony.

What stuck in his mind from that day was this: there was a moment where, once Dainsleif realized archons were present, he looked for Rukkhadevata. Was she there? Had Lord Alberich been right? Had all of his love and trust and faith meant nothing? The word despair meant nothing to him before that. How could this happen? But he looked, and he looked, and she wasn’t there, and the relief buoyed him enough to keep going.

That relief was temporary.

There wasn’t much of his initial journey Dainsleif could remember either. Somehow he wound up in Mondstadt with Lumine, an outlander that he hadn’t known terribly closely before. They bonded on the road. She was searching for her twin in the wake of the Cataclysm; Dainsleif was searching for answers. There were a thousand trials and tribulations and together, they faced them all.

But not even Lumine learned what kept him up at night.

Dainsleif didn’t wear the mushroom bangle anymore. He couldn’t bring himself to. It had only survived the Cataclysm with him because it was on his wrist at the time. Nothing else of his life before survived, just his uniform and this bangle. Everything else went up in flames. At night, he’d lay awake and turn it between his fingers, staring at every angle as if it would tell him the truth. Had Rukkhadevata known? There were rumors–rumors he refused to believe, couldn’t believe–that she had perished in the Cataclysm. How could that be? He hadn’t seen her. There was still a Dendro Archon, with no conceivable lapse in time. People said the new one was a child, but she’d told him about how she’d regressed into such a state herself after using a lot of power. There was no way she’d perished. It was just a misunderstanding.

Maybe she was looking for him. Maybe she assumed he was dead. All that kept him from running to her as fast as the road allowed was crippling fear and bouts of paralyzing rage. Even if she hadn’t known, why had she done nothing? The other Archons knew enough to arrive. Surely she’d been warned even a second in advance. And if she truly wasn’t, why did she still serve as Archon? Was this not enough to damn the entirety of Celestia and her tyranny, condemn the gnosis and the gods and every other hateful part? Even if she were afraid for what might happen to Sumeru if she spoke out, did Khaenri’ah mean so little to her?

Did he mean so little to her? Perhaps that was the true fear: that Rukkhadevata was the love of his life, and she considered him just a man she’d once loved.

So it was with a queasy stomach and tense jaw that he approached Sumeru City once more, seven years since he last saw it. It was fall again, neither unseasonably warm or unseasonably cool (not like when he and Rukkhadevata walked among the gardens). The gate was different. A lot was different. Some old cafes and buildings had been torn down and replaced. The streets were repaved. But the layout was generally the same.

So was the Akademiya.

“Wow,” Lumine breathed at his side. Her gold eyes were huge. “It’s built into the tree?”

“Yes. It supports the entire city.”

“Incredible. That’s incredible. I wonder how in the world something like that grew. Do you think it was the power of the Dendro Archon?”

Dainsleif honestly didn’t know. He blinked up at the platforms to the Akademiya. Why had he never asked? “It seems probable. After all, I haven’t seen another of its size in Sumeru.”

The woman at his side nodded decisively. Before she could finish her next sentence–probably to suggest they find an inn to put their things and wash up from the road, or a cafe to eat–an almighty ruckus snatched their attention.

“ Dainsleif! ”

No way . He knew that voice. Dainsleif stared, disbelieving, as a pair of golden ears bobbed and weaved through a crowd. Some poor passerby was shoved into a fruit stall. Takama–gold coin headband swaying, tail trailing behind her–didn’t stop or apologize. She broke into a flat sprint, aiming directly for him.

“Dainsleif!” She screamed again.

Did he laugh? Did he cry? He wanted to do both. He’d missed this wrecking ball of a woman. Before he could stop himself, Dainsleif opened his arms. Takama took a flying leap and latched around his chest.

“You’re alive!” She was sobbing. “Thank you, Greater Lord, you’re alive –you’re alive! ”

What else could he do? He buried his face in her shoulder and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. How could he have predicted that she’d be one of his only friends left alive? Hugging her reminded him of nights of cards, and the Black Serpent Knights, and the drunken night at the tavern, and the smell of curry and jasmine tea, and raucous laughter as they all gave each other shit. It was a long time before Takama’s bawling dissolved into sniffles. He held her the whole while. Finally, she leaned back and cupped his face in her hands.

“You look incredible,” she said, awed. “I swear you haven’t aged a day.”

Dainsleif didn’t have the heart to say why. That would’ve taken him past the point of tears. Instead, he forced a weak smile. “It’s nice to see you, Takama. Can I put you down?”

“Oh. Shit. Right, right.”

Back on her own two feet, Takama rounded on Lumine, holding out a hand. “Hi. I’m Forest Ranger Takama. Who are you?”

To her credit, Lumine didn’t hesitate. She took the offered hand. “Lumine. I’m a friend of Dainsleif’s.”

“Well, any friend of Dainsleif’s is a friend of mine. Are…” A pause. Takama lowered her voice. “Are you also Khaenri’ahn?”

Lumine paused. “We both made it out together.”

Takama’s smile fell away. “I’m sorry. I don’t know everything that happened, but I’ve heard rumors. I’m so, so sorry. Can I ask a selfish question?”

He knew where this was going. Visions of a face bloodied almost beyond recognition flashed through his mind. Gently, Dainsleif intercepted. “Torsten died in the initial chaos. I’m sorry.”

Silence. The woman ducked her head and exhaled. “I was afraid of that. I thought so. It had been too long since there were any letters. I just… I hoped, you know?”

“Yeah,” Lumine offered gently. “Yeah. I understand. It’s difficult, not knowing.”

All at once, Dainsleif was suddenly afraid of what Takama might ask next. He’d never told Lumine about his trip to Sumeru. And Rukkhadevata? That was a secret heavily guarded within Khaenri’ah. Not even his own men had breathed a word about her. He wasn’t ready to explain himself or talk about that. Not yet. Without prelude, he touched Takama’s shoulder. “Listen, we need to get to an inn and find a room for the night. Shall you and I catch up over dinner?”

Lumine shot him a look. Takama did, too, though a different one. “Yeah. Let me show you the way. Obviously, the quarters you used aren’t available, but I know a decent place. Want to meet up at Puspa around dusk? Do you remember where it is?”

“Is it in the same place?”

“Yep. Hasn’t changed.”

“Then I remember.”

“Alright. Come on. Lumine, stick close. The streets get crowded.”

Oh, Sumeru City. Walking back into it was… complicated. His heart was full and heavy, comforted and throbbing with pain. Everywhere he looked was a new memory or a place lost to time. The cafe he and the men usually went to for breakfast was gone. A brand new restaurant stood in its place. One of the dining spaces on the hill was replaced by an Adventurer’s Guild. But vendors he still recognized hawked their wares, and Akademiya students and researchers still milled about in the same uniforms. The same green tiles decorated every roof. He could hear a production echo up the stairwell to the Grand Bazaar. At last, they arrived at a tavern.

“Here.” She motioned at the door. “They usually have good rooms, though you might have to share one. I’ll see you around dusk?”

“Dusk, Puspa Cafe,” he confirmed. “I’ll be there.”

Takama offered Lumine a smile and wave, turning to vanish back into the crowds. The second she was out of sight, Lumine rounded on him.

“I didn’t know you’d visited here before.”

How did he explain? The truth was simplest. Slowly, Dainsleif said, “Khaenri’ah and Sumeru had certain diplomatic and research ties. I was assigned to guard Lord Alberich on one of his initial visits to hammer out the details, and another when the nations agreed to let Khaenri’ah build a facility in the desert. Takama was one of the people who served as a guide.”

Lumine frowned. That didn’t explain why he’d hurried Takama along, Dainsleif knew. It also didn’t explain why he’d made arrangements to meet Takama for dinner alone. In all the time they’d journeyed together, he’d never requested such a thing. But if she were truly curious, she didn’t ask. Instead she yawned, stretched, and turned toward the tavern door. “Do you think they’ll have showers?”

“If times haven’t changed in Sumeru, it’s more likely there’s a bath.”

“Even better. I feel gross. Come on, let’s go. You don’t want to be smelly for your meetup.”

—

Puspa Cafe hadn’t changed much. There was a different fountain in the center now, and a different person took his order at the counter. Otherwise? The same tables and chairs greeted him. Takama was waiting in the same spot they’d always pulled up in, right beside a colored glass window. Pangs of anxiety rippled through his stomach. What if Rukkhadevata came in right now? Would he recognize her as a child? Wouldn’t that be strange for him to be fully grown and her so young? Uncertain but unwilling to be taken by surprise, he pulled up a chair where he could see the front door and settled in. Takama scooted a mug of chai to him and gave a weary smile. Her eyes were still puffy from crying.

“I still can’t believe you’re alive.”

A thousand more cynical thoughts sprung to mind. In the end, he settled on, “Me either.”

“Like I said, I’ve heard rumors about what you all went through. If it was anything like the hell that unleashed up here…” A beat. She frowned and spun her own glass in her hands. “I’m sure you don’t want to talk about that. You’ve probably thought about it enough.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. I’m sure you’re curious about everyone up here and all that. Abeni is–”

Cutting her off, Dainsleif went to the heart of things. “Rukkhadevata. It’s about Rukkhadevata. I heard a rumor that she reverted to a child’s form again.”

Silence. Takama stared at him, eyes darting back and forth between his, searching for something . Why wasn’t she talking? Why did she say nothing? Impatient, Dainsleif said, “She told me it happened before. That’s how I know about–”

“Dainsleif.” It was her turn to intercept the conversation. “She didn’t revert.”

No? A strange relief flooded him. He sat back in his chair. “Huh. I wonder where–”

Again, Takama interjected. Her voice was strangled and faint. “She’s dead, Dainsleif.”

The world stopped. Hadn’t it? How could the sun continue to rise and set on a Teyvat where there was no Khaenri’ah and no Rukkhadevata? His hands buzzed. Everything spun. Desperate for anything to ground him, he clenched weakly at the table.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t know you didn’t know.”

“I thought–” He couldn’t breathe. Gulping down air, Dainsleif tried again. “I thought that–I thought that didn’t make sense. It was a rumor. It didn’t make any sense. I–when?”

“The same day.” Takama took his hand in hers and squeezed, applying comforting pressure. He gripped at her fingers like a life line. “When Sumeru was attacked, she was sent to guard Irminsul. There were fears that whatever was happening would go after that, too. I don’t know all the details, but from what I understand, that was the case. She was killed there.”

Killed . In his mind, Dainsleif could see Rukkhadevata so clearly. Green eyes, long, white hair, hooked nose, bright smile, dark skin and a soothing voice. How could anyone kill her? How could anyone lay a finger on her? Being ripped apart would hurt less than the primal hatred and sorrow consuming him. All this time he’d laid awake at night, spiraling between fear and love and a thousand questions, and none of them had ever mattered. She’d died seven years ago, and he’d been so wrapped up in Khaenri’ah that he’d never even worried about her?

A kinder, gentler part of him knew that he’d just not been able to accept the possibility of more grief. The rest of him, consumed by self-loathing, stomped it down.

“What about the Dendro Archon?” He managed. “I thought–I thought there was a new one?”

“There is. She’s a child. We call her Lesser Lord Kusanali. Rukkhadevata is now known as the Greater Lord. She lives in the Sanctuary of Suresthana, under the care of the Sages. She appeared the day Rukkhadevata died, so we all thought the same thing you did at first.”

“They’re not the same? Are they sure?”

Takama shook her head. “They aren’t. We’re sure.”

A waitress arrived to serve them their food. She asked if they needed anything else; Takama hurriedly declined and shooed her away. Eating had never seemed so revolting. Dainsleif stared at the plate, too numb and nauseous to even take a bite.

“You’re staying at the tavern I recommended, right?” Takama asked after a long while. He just nodded. “Uh, will your friend Lumine mind if you’re missing for a night?”

His voice emerged in a whisper. “Why?”

“Her apartment is still maintained. Only a few people have keys. One of them is Abeni. I just thought…” Hesitating only a moment, she plowed forward, “I thought you might want to stay there instead. You know. Process a bit, be on your own. Is that something you’d like?” After another beat, she eyed him warily. “Is that something I could trust you to do?”

Dainsleif wanted to laugh. If he could’ve killed himself, he would’ve already. But as for the rest… was it wise to stay in that apartment? Could he grapple with himself and all the unanswered questions alone? There was no way of knowing.

But maybe–if even for a moment–that apartment would let him daydream.

“Yes,” he said. “You could trust me.”

—

Lumine wasn’t in the room when he dropped in, so Dainsleif left a note before heading back out. Takama emerged around the road with someone beside her. Not even the night could keep him from recognizing the other woman.

“Dainsleif,” Abeni breathed. Her afro was shot with silver. New wrinkles had appeared in the edges of her mouth. “I can’t believe it. It’s really you.”

“Good to see you, Abeni.” He tried to force a smile. It must’ve wobbled unconvincingly. The other woman took his hand in hers and squeezed. “I’m glad you’re alive. Is Jyoti?”

“Yes. She married a woman from Mondstadt. They live in some town out there now, but I hear from her occasionally. She’s doing well. Do you want me to write, send her news of you?”

Dainsleif shook his head. “No. Truthfully, I’m trying not to draw too much attention to myself. If she comes to visit and it comes up, you can tell her, but I’d like not to be written about.”

If either of them had questions, they didn’t voice them. They just nodded and motioned for him to follow.

“Try to keep a low profile,” Abeni murmured. “No one is supposed to access her quarters except the sages anymore.”

Up, up, up the road they went. It was the same familiar walkway. Someone had replanted the gardens; different flowers grew in new arrangements. New water features bubbled merrily in the background. Chilly air brushed gently through his hair. At the midway point he stopped to take in the familiar view of the forest of glowing mushrooms, still so vivid in the dark. The women waited patiently until he’d had his fill. Around the corner they walked, and then—at last. A familiar doorway.

There were no lights on. Darkened stained glass rippled in the moonlight. Abeni reached into her purse and produced a small silver key, turning the lock with a faint click .

“Feel free to leave it open when you go,” she said. “I’ll come by tomorrow afternoon and lock it again. Okay?”

His mouth was desert dry. Somehow, he forced himself to nod. “Alright. Thank you.”

Once more she squeezed his hand. He squeezed back. Both she and Takama gave him weak, closed-mouth smiles, and walked away.

For the first time since the Cataclysm, he was alone. For the first time in seven years, he was alone in front of Rukkhadevata’s doorway. Maybe he would turn the knob and discover it was all a nasty prank. Maybe she would be there on the couch, waiting for him with a smile and open arms. Perhaps that was someone’s idea of a joke. Yes. Maybe. But even as desperately as he hoped, Dainsleif knew that wasn’t the case.

With trembling hands, he reached out and opened the door.

Silvery light streamed into the living room. It smelled like dust. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him, and everything submerged in inky dark. Where was the damn lamp? Too afraid to fish around for one and risk knocking something over, he scrounged through his pockets and lit a match. The feeble light did the trick. He found one on a tiny couch table and lit the long-unused candle wick.

All of the books were gone. That was the first thing he noticed: row upon row of empty shelves. Dainsleif stood and stared at them. Everything was clean, but signs of disuse were everywhere. Perfectly folded blankets lay on perfectly fluffed pillows. No shoes waited in the entryway. Not a single sunsettia or peach rest in the fruit bowl on the kitchen counter. On habit he removed his boots and stored them by the door. He couldn’t have the lamp illuminated for long–it ran the risk of someone seeing the light from the living room window, where there were no curtains–so he picked it up and carried it with him to the bedroom door.

It was locked. Mystified, Dainsleif wiggled the latch. Abeni must’ve forgotten all about that. On a hunch, he felt around the door frame and located a tiny gold key. Perfect. The door gave way. Inhaling for strength, he stepped inside.

Where the living room was perfect and sterile, the bedroom was not. All of her books were still here. Faint and stale though it was, the scent of oud and jasmine lingered. Cushions still lay haphazardly by the little vanity; a hairbrush was on the floor; notebooks were stacked on the nightstand. The bedsheets were tossed back, as if someone had gotten up and never thought to make it. A thick layer of dust coated everything. He flung the curtains shut to buy a measure of privacy, then set the lamp down.

What was he supposed to do? For what felt like forever, Dainsleif stood, paralyzed, staring at her bed. Was she really not going to emerge? How did this room exist without her? Nothing felt right. Finally–buoyed by the need to do something –he went to the bathroom and found her washcloths under the sink.

The moon was high in the sky by the time he finished cleaning. The sheets and pillows and floor cushions were shaken out into the tub and the surfaces wiped down. He even went through all of the shelves and dusted. It was easier than thinking. Dainsleif scrubbed and dusted and wiped everything down until it was perfect, then scrubbed at imaginary stains in bizarre places. If he stopped, he stopped being numb. If he wasn’t numb…

But soon enough, there was nothing left to clean. He washed all the cloths and hung them over the edge of the tub to dry, then hopped in the tub and rinsed himself. Pain coursed through his blood to the point of delirium. Still, he dragged himself out, dried off, blew out the lamp, and headed to the mattress.

Well. This was it. Dainsleif stared at the bed. Had he ever gotten in first? Was there ever a time he hadn’t seen Rukkhadevata waiting, or flung her onto it himself? Not to his recollection. Uneasy, he sat heavily on the edge, folded his clothes, and–for the first time in years–popped on the mushroom bracelet. Rain began to pitter-patter on the roof outside, the only thing to cut through the agonizing silence around him. On habit, he reached up and rubbed at his shoulder, thumb catching on the scar.

Right. The scar. Dainsleif worked a finger over every groove, bumped them over the tooth marks embossed in his skin. That had happened in this very room. He was so used to it that he sometimes forgot it was there. How could he forget?

“Hey,” he announced to the empty room. “You were supposed to outlive me. You know that, right?”

No one replied.

Sudden as a punch, Dainsleif bent double. Every tear he’d suppressed flooded free; the sorrow he’d swallowed ripped from his chest in a hard, agonized wail. She was gone. She was gone . She was gone, she was gone, she was gone. There were no words to articulate the cavern left in him. She was just gone , and he, her lesser half, was all that remained.

He didn’t know how long he cried. Eventually he curled up in a ball on the bed and sobbed himself to sleep.

—

“Hey!”

Dainsleif woke with a start. Or did he? He wasn’t entirely sure, not when a peculiar, round, green creature was standing on the bed. It had leaves as a hat and floated, staring at him with huge black eyes. He just stared back.

“Hey,” it repeated. “Blue Mask Nara! Friend of Queen Aranyani! Wake up!”

What in the Abyss was happening? Maybe he was dreaming. Sluggish, he sat up with a grunt and tried to orient himself. “Queen who?”

“Queen Aranyani,” the creature repeated, and gave a little spin. Like that explained anything. “Leader of the Aranara and the Sumeru Nara!”

Right. This felt a little like reasoning with a toddler. Moving on, Dainsleif managed, “I’m sorry. Who are you?”

“Arama.” Once again, it did a spin. “And you are Blue Mask Nara! I’m here to take you to the special thing Queen Aranyani left for you!”

Dainsleif scrounged around in his memory and produced a single feeble recollection. Hadn’t Rukkhadevata mentioned Aranara once before? Didn’t they only show themselves to children? Who was this ‘Queen Aranyani’ it kept mentioning? But it seemed to know him–if only by a distinctive feature–so he reached for his shirt and pulled it on. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see! Arama will take you, Blue Mask Nara! I’ll use my Ararakalari and poof! We will be there. Come, come! Are you ready?”

“Will we come back here afterward?”

“Yes, yes. We will bring back Blue Mask Nara.”

It wasn’t as if his life could get much weirder. Buoyed by curiosity, Dainsleif nodded. “Alright then. Let’s go.”

Everything rippled. Shades of green shuddered through his vision and fluttered away. In an instant, they were standing before a truly massive, silver tree. The trunk twisted in an impossible shape. Pink leaves swayed under a red sky. He’d forgotten his boots; grass crunched under his bare feet as he stepped forward. Arama scuttled along.

“Here!” He said. “Here is where Queen Aranyani said!”

Dainsleif glanced near the roots. There, almost hidden in some wildflowers, a silver object glinted. He knelt and freed it from the tangle of matted green. The moment it popped into his hand, his heart dropped into his stomach.

It was the lotus bangle.

At his touch, it flashed, then glowed green, then floated out of his hand. A bright light wobbled into shape on the grass. And then–

There she was. Rukkhadevata stepped forward. Her hair was pulled hastily back in a ponytail, her face and arms were smeared with soot and soil and blood, her clothes were stained. Still, she smiled. She smiled, and Dainsleif wanted to rip his heart out and hand it to her.

“Rukkhadevata,” he choked, and reached for her. His hand passed right through hers.

“I’m sorry, love,” she replied. “I thought you might do that, but this was all I could do. There wasn’t enough time to produce anything more solid.”

Crying. He was crying again. He could feel hot tears rolling down his cheeks. Dainsleif forced his hands to his side and shook his head. “Don’t apologize. I’m sure you did the best you could.”

“You survived.” There was so much awe in her voice. “I’m so glad. I’m so, so glad you survived, my love.”

Was this a shade of the past? Was it some kind of a simulation created by the power of the dendro gnosis? Dainsleif didn’t know and wasn’t willing to ask. He would take even a shade of her over her eternal silence. “I’m not so sure I’m glad,” he said with a derisive chuckle. “Every day, it hurts. I’m in pain, and I’m angry, and I miss you. I’ve spent seven years not knowing you were dead, and I wondered almost every day if you’d known what was going to happen, and–”

“I didn’t,” she said, soft as a petal. All those years of pent up rage at her dissolved to nothing. “I didn’t know anything.”

Through tears, he forced, “I believe you. What killed you here?”

Rukkhadevata reached for him. He couldn’t feel the hand skating along his cheek, but if he closed his eyes, he could pretend he did. “Do you trust me, love?”

“Yes.”

“Then trust me when I tell you that you don’t want to know. It will bring you no peace, only further pain. Besides, we have only so much time together. My power over this will soon end.”

Miserable, Dainsleif whispered, “Please don’t go.”

She, too, was crying now. “My darling, I am already gone.”

If ever he met Celestia, Dainsleif would ask (if he didn’t swing on sight and principle) how it was that such agony existed. Anything would hurt less. He would embrace the curse for ten thousand years if he could just feel her touch now. He forced himself to blink away the tears that blurred her face, intent on memorizing it one last time. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” she said. “I love you. And I love you. And I love you. And I love you. And even if you forget me–”

“I won’t,” he replied, resolute.

“And even if you forget me,” she pressed again, more decisive this time, “I hope you feel how much I love you. I hope you feel it every day. I hope my love shields you, Dainsleif. I know you will step out into the world and fight for what is good, and what is right, and I will be there with you every step of the way. I hope my love can make your steps light. I hope it picks you up when you have fallen, and kisses your tears. I love you, Dainsleif, and even if you forget that, may you always feel it.”

The light shuddered. Heaving a desperate cry, he reached for her one more time. She kissed her fingertips, brushed them over his mouth, and then disappeared.

—

Dainsleif woke up the next morning in Rukkhadevata’s bed with no memory of how they returned. Maybe it was a dream. Perhaps the Aranara and the vision were all tricks born from grief. With a groan, he clapped a hand over his swollen face and rubbed at sore eyes. The bangles jingled and collided with his nose.

Wait.

He launched himself upright. In the faint light creeping between the curtains, not one, but two bangles jangled on his wrist: a gold mushroom bracelet and a corresponding silver lotus one.

—

Centuries wore on.

Like an old house, his memory cracked, peeled, collapsed to dust. Only bits and pieces remained. Ironic. He distantly recalled talking about erosion with Rukkhadevata. How strange it was that he, not she, now dealt with its full repercussions. He could no longer fully recall all his travels with Lumine, nor their fall out, nor Khaenri’ah. Takama and Abeni and Jyoti and Torsten’s faces blurred in his mind. He couldn’t even place what Lord Alberich looked like until he spotted his descendent, Kaeya Alberich. The two looked very similar. It was really uncanny. He ran across Lumine’s twin, Aether, and shared what little he felt comfortable sharing. Everything ran in circles, it seemed. Hadn’t Rukkhadevata told him about something like that? What was the word, ‘samsara’? He didn’t remember that, either.

All he knew was he couldn’t rest until the Abyss Order was defeated. Celestia and the Archons and the Abyss took everything from him, but that didn’t mean he could sit back and allow them to destroy everything else. Every time he sat to breathe, the bangles on his wrist would clink together under his armor and remind him of all he fought for.

Yes. There would be no more red skies. There would be no more tragedy wrought by the hands of Celestia, nor despair. Dainsleif woke every morning, kissed his fingers, pressed it to the scar on his shoulder, and pressed on.

—

One morning, Dainsleif woke with the all-too-familiar sense that he’d forgotten something.

This happened regularly now. It had scared him once. The feeling of your mind slipping away was terrifying, to be sure. But Dainsleif had this bone-deep certainty that something was pressing him on, guiding his hand and keeping him sure. It kept him sane when all else felt lost.

He got up. Something jingled on his wrist. Confused, he lifted his arm, peeling the objects off. A gold bracelet with mushrooms on each opening and a matching silver one with lotuses were there.

“Where did you come from?” he murmured. How bizarre. He wasn’t given to jewelry; centuries wandering and seeking out the Abyss Order hardly lent themselves to such frivolities. Still, here they were. They looked like something from Sumeru. When was the last time he’d visited? Why would he have picked them up? He struggled to place it. Had Takama bought them for him? A woman had given him them, right? Maybe a Sage? Didn’t he get one of these as they were leaving? An official had handed him these, right? Abyss take him, why was it so impossible to remember?

Well, nevermind. Dainsleif went to stow them in his pocket and thought better of it. There was the possibility that they’d get lost. If they were so important that he’d kept them on even in his sleep, he supposed they were important enough to keep there. He popped them back on, peeled himself out of his thin cot, and went to the river to wash up.

It was a cool day in Sumeru. The rainforest smelled fresh and clear. Birds hopped from tree to tree, singing; leaves rustled loudly against one another. He peeled off his shirt and leaned forward over the river bank, scrubbing his face and arms and shoulders with clear water. He worked over his muscles, and–

His thumb caught on a strange ring on the soft skin near his neck. Dainsleif paused, running his fingers around and around the marks. Teeth? Was this scar caused by teeth? How? When? He lingered on the edge of the riverbank, willing himself to remember. There was no way it was a combat scar. No one would’ve gotten close enough to puncture his uniform. Besides, then he would have repairs on that spot, and that wasn’t the case.

Whatever his mind didn’t know, his body did. As he touched the scar, his heart thumped hard in his chest. Peace like a blanket descended on his shoulders. Dainsleif shut his eyes and relished its warmth. The memory in his body felt like laughter in a hushed room; it felt like a kiss he couldn’t remember; it felt like being tangled up in the arms of a lover. Last of all–and strongest–it felt like someone waiting in the doorway for him. It felt like a shield around him. It felt like love, love, love, a Love he both did not remember and could never forget. He tilted back his head and breathed in deeply.

“Alright,” he whispered to no one, to the vanished memory of someone he still loved, to whoever it was that the world had now forgotten. “You and me. We can do this. Til the end of the line, my love.”

Dainsleif dressed himself. He packed up his campsite, obscured any sign he was ever there, and headed out. The bracelets pressed against his skin from under his bracers, and it felt right.

#A Sun Long Gone #ASLG #Genshin Impact #Genshin Dainsleif #genshin rukkhadevata #Dainsleif x Rukkhadevata #Dainsleif fanfic #greater lord rukkhadevata #Rukkhadevata fanfic #my writing

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r0und3bitch · 1 year

Note

are you going to make a part 9 for twin flames??

So I’ve taken a bit of break from writing as life has caught up with me over the past few months…

But I’ve had the rest of the story 75% written since last spring 😵‍💫🫠 it’s always weighed on me that I never finished it and always told myself I would. Is this a sign?

It was originally going to be a lot more parts but I’m thinking of omitting a good chunk of it, leaving 3 more parts till the end (possibly an epilogue)

Should I??

#twin flames

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muzanswifey · 2 years

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Just found out about the shinjuro x nanny reader on Ao3 and realized it was a one shot. Is there going to be an epilogue to it??? It was soooo good and erotic I didn't even find Shinjuro interesting before this. ( not by that much TBH) but🤷‍♀

Idk ab an epilogue but I did give a brief aummary of future events on my ao3 wen someone asked ab this too 😂

I'll copy and paste it

"I may do a part 2 muuuuuuuuch later but i can give you a brief summary (with a grain of salt bc i may make slight changes if i do make a part 2, but it should generally be the same)

Rengoku and Sen are fine! If anything i think they'd be excited to have a new momma, although they would probably also be a little concerned as well since their dad treats you... strange... and they notice how you tense when the man touches you - none the less they do like you and know that you aren't trying to replace Ruka

Shinjuro becomes a better father... kinda... he's still kinda mean and bitter but at least hes giving his kids attention and the such

You tell your fam of the situation - you've had a change of heart and are marrying the flame hashira; your family is actually ecstatic ab this because of his nobility, though his personality and attitude are god awful towards them, they think the marriage to be advantageous, especially for you who was lucky to be married at all at your age (you are considered old at that time period despite being quite young in nowadays standard); you never see your old fiance ever again

Oh boy, your pregnant alright, with twins in fact, Shinjuro is quite proud of himself, thinking the doubling of babies was cause by his daily breedings of you (yah, thats not how it works dude but alr)

Youre not exactly the nanny for the boys anymore, sure you occasionally take care of them with playing and eating with them, but most of your old chores are given to new housemaids, now your only true job seems to be to tend to your new "husband", he wants you with him at practically all times of the day when he isn't on a mission (until he retires), mostly sexually - i wont go too much into detail but the man looooooves to be cockwarmed, mostly with your pussy but he doesn't mind your mouth from time to time

i think he would keep you pregnant for as majority of your birthing years after that... forming his rengoku army lol

Its not exactly the ending you wanted or expected but hey 🤷‍♀️ this is your life now"

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ameliora-j · 3 years

Text

twin flame epilogue // gw x reader

words: 1.7k

warnings: pregnancy, mentions of labor, other than that just extreme fluff

a/n: this is for you evil and you too butterfly ily 🥰 @ameliasbitvh @wolfstar-lb

the snow fell slowly from the sky, creating a gorgeous blanket of white just outside the burrow. ron, charlie, bill, fred, and percy were helping arthur set up the tent while hermione, ginny, and fleur were in the kitchen helping molly with the cooking and the baking. you were stood in one of the bedrooms with your oldest brother as he fixed your veil over your braided updo.

“you look gorgeous, puppy,” he whispered as he kissed your head. you fixed your boobs in your deep v-line dress for the umpteenth time as you looked at yourself in the mirror again.

“ybn, i’m nervous,” you admit as you took a deep breath.

“about what, angel?” he asked as he continued to fret over your dress, hair, and veil, making sure that everything was perfectly in place. ybn became the bridezilla for you so that you didn’t have to. although, you truly had no reason to. the weasleys had been making sure your wedding was perfect since the second they found out that george had proposed to you.

“i’m marrying the love of my life in less than an hour. what if he runs away,” your brother did nothing more than chuckle at your anxieties. however, it did enough to ease your nerves. for both you and your brother, and everyone downstairs awaiting your arrival knew that george weasley was completely infatuated with you and would never even dream of leaving you alone at the altar.

“we’re ready for you, yn,” fleur spoke gently as she knocked at the door. “you look gorgeous, mon amour,” she smiled gently from behind you in the mirror.

“all ready?” your brother asked. you nodded, and so began the bridal party march. your bridesmaids walked out before you, each wearing a burnt orange dress and accompanied by one of george’s brothers. fred as his best man, of course, accompanied by your best friend, ginny. followed by all of his brothers in age order. bill accompanied by fleur, followed percy accompanied by his wife audrey, then ron accompanied by hermione, and even harry got a role… accompanied by your close friend from school, hannah abott.

you took a deep breath as the bridal march began. your arms linked with your brother’s as you began to walk down the aisle. you couldn’t help the tears that made twin streaks down your rouged cheeks as you came face to face with your future husband. dressed in a black three piece suit with a tie the color of your bridesmaids’ dresses. george’s face lit up as he saw you making your way toward him. tears welling along his waterline as he came to the realization that this—you—were the rest of his life. your brother kissed your head gently as you arrived at the altar. passing you on to the man that you were to spend the rest of your life with. george took both of your small hands gently in his much larger ones as he smiled at you.

“hi butterfly,” he whispered as he came face to face with you.

“hi,” you whispered back. looking out at the crowd you spotted each of your three older brothers, molly and arthur, all of your old friends from hogwarts, as well as professor mcgonnagal, who was sniffling and wiping tears from her eyes watching two of her favorite (which she would never admit to) students get married. the wedding official began his speech but you drowned all of his words out as you got lost in george’s ocean eyes. then finally george began to recite his vows. the ones that you two had written for each other as you wanted this to be special.

“butterfly. you truly are my everything. i love you with everything that i have in me and more. i’m so glad that we’ve finally gotten over fighting our feelings and fell into this wonderful thing called love. yfn… i wouldn’t be standing here with anybody else. thank you for always standing by my side and saving my ass back at hogwarts,” he chuckled as he ended.

“george,” you whimpered softly as more tears came to your eyes. “i’m sorry,” you whispered with a sniffle before gently patting at your tears and clearing your throat to begin again. “georgie i love you. you are the reason that i wake up in the morning. i’m so proud of the man that you’ve become and i can’t wait to grow and spend the rest of my life with you. and we have a bunch of mini weasleys running around the house on christmas morning and untill the day that we die in each other’s arms,” you finished. at the mention of babies, each of george’s siblings and his parents whooped loudly.

you set your mug of tea down on the coffee table as you sat down on the couch. “anthony, don’t be so rough please,” you spoke gently to your four-year-old, currently sat on the carpeted floor and wrestling with his twin brother.

“sorry mama!” he called, returning to playing with his cars. you smiled fondly at the two boys, the perfect mix of you and george, as your left hand planted itself on the swell of your eight month belly. the door opened and your twins squealed in excitement, standing and running to their father.

“daddy!” they exclaimed. you heard george’s soft grunt at the weight of the rowdy four-year-olds and when you turned, he was lifting them both into his arms.

“hey buddies! were you good for mama?” he asked.

“uh huh!” anthony exclaimed as his head bobbed furiously, his long fiery locks waving with the motion of his head.

“libby and lijah weren’t though,” azavier playfully tattled.

“they weren’t?” george mocked a gasp of shock.

“nuh uh. kept kickin’ ‘er,” anthony added. george hummed thoughtfully as he trailed into the living room where you were sat.

“hi butterfly,” george smiled widely as he bent down to press a quick kiss to your lips, pressing his lips to the swell of your belly immediately after.

“hi georgie,” you hummed as you beamed up at him.

“long day?” he asked as he sat on the cushion beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as the twins went back to play with his cars. you nodded in reply as you curled into his chest.

“keep kicking m’ribs. they want out already,” you sighed out as you rubbed your bump gently.

“you’re amazing,” george marvelled aloud as his thumb came to rub your shoulder. “two sets of twins i can’t believe it,” he kissed your temple.

“‘m gonna start charging you if you keep putting babies in me, georgie,” you teased gently.

“oh don’t pretend like you don’t beg for it butterfly,” george winked as dark red painted the apples of your cheeks in embarrassment.

“shut up,” you grumbled playfully, half-heartedly pushing at his chest as he barked loudly in laughter.

you smiled fondly as you sipped your tea, curled into your husband’s chest as his fingers gently brushed up and down your bicep. this was the rest of your life. and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“fuuuucccckkkk george i hate you,” you groaned loudly as another contraction passed. “i hate you i hate you,” you grumbled as you threw your head back, warbled cry of agony falling from your lips.

“i know you do butterfly but you’re doing so well,” he whispered, smoothing your hair away from your perspiring forehead. “almost done i promise,” he kissed your temple as you yelled out, following the healer’s instructions and pushing.

two hours later and you had two beautiful, squirming babies laid on your chest, one boy and one girl. your head fell back against the pillow in exhaustion as you breathed out a long sigh. “proud of you butterfly. thank you,” george whispered as he kissed your temple once more. you hummed tiredly in reply, already halfway asleep due to the exhaustion of pushing out two more tiny humans. you felt the nurses lift your babies from your chest, taking them away to clean them as you fell into dreamland.

when you woke up, anthony and azavier were in the room, kneeling over the two cribs that the babies were laid in as they showed them all their toys. “and look libby, this one is lightning aqueen. he goes vroom super fast,” anthony whispered as he drove the car around in the crib. “can’t wait till i can take you home and play wif you.” you smiled fondly at the sight as george walked in with your favorite fast food. your visage lit up at the prospect of food as you sat up in bed.

“oh did they wake you? i’m so sorry. i told them to be quiet so you could rest,” george apologized.

“no bubba, it’s fine,” you smiled in assurance. “they were very good boys. very quiet and they kept their siblings occupied and quiet so i could sleep,” you smiled. he set the food on the table and took it out of the bag for you. “come on bubbies. come eat,” you beckoned your twins over and george helped them up onto the bed. they kneeled up on the table across from you as george sat beside you to begin eating.

sitting in this moment. with your four babies and your husband, you knew there was no place that you’d rather be. that one week all those years ago at the burrow for christmas break finally felt worth it. along with the wizarding war and all of the petty arguments that you and george had throughout the years of being best friends. this is where you belonged. above the fire that your twin flame had set ablaze. wrapped in the arms of the man you love surrounded by your babies and food. this was just a peek into your future. and you knew that the rest of it was even brighter. for nothing, not even jealousy, or that week at the burrow when he thought he’d lost you to his older brother, could burn out the spark that you and george’s love had created.

nothing could come between you two. the love you had created was forever. and you couldn’t be more thankful.

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