❥︎ not proof-read; gender-neutral reader; fluff; reader is the doctor; yearning; established relationship; logos returns from a long mission; possible errors and ooc; we adore our beloved Banshee Prince/Lord here; domestic bliss; short fic; some fine dessert after writing some spice; references to penelope and odysseus; comfortt; logos is a gentleman; writing this made me feel sleepy too while imagining logos as a sweet lover (*´ω｀*) gosh— I can only dream.
ᴇxᴛʀᴀ ɴᴏᴛᴇs: hii, nonnie! I apologize for taking a bit to complete your request (*´ω｀*) but I sure do hope it's worth the wait! I hope you like it! And fr, I relate. I'm none the wiser— acck I miss him too, none could resist fawning over this pretty man ♡
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If Autumn is the season of drought, then why has it deprived you of much needed rest and spiraled your heartbeat in circles like leaves spewn around the ground by the blows of wind?
Day after day, the paperworks that remained on your desk seemed endless. Your eyes would squint and twitch in the face of light, and not even your own bed felt so welcoming like before. It lacked the kind of comfort that your heart has come to beat for— the best pillow you've ever embraced in the form of a living being, whose mesmerizing crimson-painted eyes and smile soft as the clouds. Logos. Your beloved.
It's been days already, since you've started to be accustomed to slipping beneath the covers of bed, your arms reaching into air as you try to drift off to slumber, imagining his smile that would greet you a good night. He was your rest, in a world that moved so fast with the currents. It's in him that you find solace in the piled up autumn leaves in the form of paperwork on your desk. Not even poetry could properly phrase how strongly you felt for this man— one that you've only realized your heart would yearn for, so greatly, when he had gone off to a mission for his duties. Such is the life of an Elite Operator as he.
To ensure that you won't be so lonely during his brief departure, Logos did promise to write to you whenever he can. The location he went off to is in a remote area, thus, you can't easily switch him up for a call the entire time. Unfortunate. But, the letters he sends do still send your heart beating fast as light, not enough for a heart attack— but if you could pass from a Banshee's endearing affections, you would've already.
He would update you of his situation, his routine, his thoughts of you and how his mind would trail off idly when you would reappear in his thoughts. Logos yearns for you, as much as he does with you. Every letter he sends has been inscribed with layers upon layers of incantations, which were imbued with spells meant to slip calmness through the tips of your fingers, flow through your veins, moving ever so flowly in rhythm with the pulses that vibrated off from your vital points, and right into your heart.
He can't be there to set his hands down on your shoulders for massaging motions, or press chaste kisses against your skin, narrate stories until you fall asleep to the sound of his voice... Ah, oh, dear. You really miss him.
The mission felt so dragged out longer than you thought. You did trust the heavens that your Banshee Prince would come and return to your side, soon. And then, you'd be able to bask in his warm affections as if you were basking beneath the sun's rays as much as you like. That was always his promise, whenever he returned from his missions. You two are no wedded couple just yet, but acted like it, sometimes.
In times like these, you felt as if you two were akin to those lovers you've read off a book that you've borrowed from his shelves. Torn by war and circumstances, but the man does return even though it had taken him a long pilgrimage just to return to his wife's side.
Fatigue clouded your eyes as you returned to your quarters late into the night, hand clutching onto the new letter that you have received from your beloved. You always save them for comfort readings into the night before bed so that it may at least give your heart solace in his absence.
After cleaning up and adorning yourself in your sleeping clothes, you slipped your figure into the blankets, lifting it up and covering the other half of your body, getting settled into the welcoming yet cold sheets before you then reached for the envelope that lay on your bedside table. Your hands carefully traced the edges of the envelope, tracing your fingers along the invisible yet airy incantations that he has imbued within them as usual.
Your eyes felt slightly droopy, as if it had effectively cast a long-drawn out spell that'll take effect with every word that your eyes would take in.
'My beloved.' The letter would start out. 'Sunshine has finally slipped through the foggy clouds. These lands had witnessed the absence of the morning light, and now, it shall return to them.' it continued, as you rolled to your side.
'With each ray of sunlight that my fingers could feel, the closer I feel to returning to the embrace of my own sun— you.' you smiled. He never truly wavers into expressing his love for you. You continued to read through it, letting the ebbs and flows of ink bleed into your mind, your heart slowly stilling. Each time you read his letters, you felt as if you were hearing his voice narrate the words inside the letters, right inside your head.
Even in just simple papers, a thin singular sheet that contained texts— with Logos as the sender, you still felt as if you're being swept away into another world, the same way you'd feel when reading books. He just had that special charm about him.
'.... By the next dawn, may you expect me by your side at last. We'll have all the time in the world together again, by then.' his letter signs off, and your eyes drooped close, as if by gentle commandments of the incantations that he has cast onto the letter, like a child lulled to slumber. Your hands wavered slightly and slowly, the one holding the letter tighter slipped it off of the other's grip, and swayed off to the other side.
The letter that was once so neatly kept, now was formed with slight creases and light folds as you slip into the land of dreams of his making, from a distance.
....
Meanwhile, on Logos's end, he had boarded the transportation for return to Rhodes Island now that his mission has concluded. The rest of his team slumbered, whereas he stayed in his own space, lightly humming the hours away. Just a little more, and he'll be back in your arms. He could barely sleep not when the thought of reuniting with you has filled his heart as a whole.
Resting by your side feels a lot more hits him a lot more different. His heart that feels so restless will only ever find peace once he's next to you, and may submerge into the depths of dreamland a lot more better. Logos knew that you had long days, in his absence. You felt miserable by your desk, and he could only heave a sigh as he imagined the look of dread on your face as you poured over piles of documents. He only could wonder too about how well your present assistant is faring in helping you out with them.
The sun has already risen over the horizon by the time he has reached Rhodes Island. Logos steps out, his coat bellowing alongside the wind, followed by a row of operators that have come with him— yawning and stretching. They have a long rest ahead of them for a job well done. Now, all he needs to do, as the team leader, is to pass on his report that he's already done sitting all night and return to your side for rest.
Logos hopes that you're still at bed during this hour, so that he may at least catch a glimpse of your slumbering figure, so that his heart may at least be at rest to see you in such a state. His yearning controlled his steps, and in a rush, he walked all the way, passing through the early risers, after he had turned in his report, so that his yearning may finally have its end.
After a while of walking down the hallways, all the way to the dormitory, Logos makes his way into your room, brushed his fingers along the creases of his coat before darting his eyes over to the bed and a small smile appears on his lips. There you are. Looking so deep in slumber. His incantations worked wonders, indeed.
Making his way over to the side of the bed, Logos sits down, shifts his body and as he stares down at your face, he reaches a gloved hand out. Carefully, he places it over the crown of your head for a gentle pat.
"Doctor... I have returned."
Logos whispers softly, his words meant for your ears, even though you still have yet to stir awake from his motions. Slowly, he felt fatigue seeping down on his shoulders and he ended up shifting, careful not to startle you, and laid down on the bed beside you, barely minding the fact that he is still wholly dressed in work clothes. Cut him some slack— He's been yearning for this moment to gaze upon that lovely face of yours.
The same face that Logos adores waking up to, early in the morning. He continued his gentle ministrations over your head, brushing out your locks that formed into bed hairs, until you moved— stirring awake. You squinted your eyes open, and looked back with half-lidded eyes to a blinding light.
Logos's hand stilled, still watching you closely, up until you recollect your senses until he withdraws his hand away from you, tints of pink filled his cheeks. Right. He had touched you with no permission, while you're fast asleep, even though you were both lovers. He's a man in love, yet he can only remember his mother's words of being a gentleman echo in his ears.
"Logos?," he hears you call out softly to him as if to confirm that he was no illusion at your side. The curtains made brief low fluttering sounds as the wind made it sway upwards, letting the sunlight pour in. Logos leaned his head down further onto the pillow, and he smiled once more, as if having allowed himself to be deprived of the strength he once carried. He's stood for so long.
".... Yes, it's me, doctor. I have just returned."
The moment he finishes his answer, it was Logos's turn to be surprised when you nimbly reach out and wrap your own arms around him, overtaking his yearning. You leaned down your face over his shoulders, inhaling his scent, and you brushed your nose against the exposed skin of his neck. In return, he embraces you back, his yearning finally taking hold of him— you showed affection, and he shall do the same.
"I missed you," you whispered softly, as you felt his lips brush the top of your head as he held you close. "The days have been so long without you, Logos..." You continued. Seconds passed by until a sigh escaped his lips, as he felt his muscles relax further.
"Likewise... Doctor— no, dearest. There's not a day where I did not envision our reunion. But... I am here now, with you, once again. Fret not. I stayed true to my word about keeping safe." He says, followed by a pause. "I certainly do hope that you kept your word about... sleeping in time in my absence, however?." The tint of pink on your ears says it all.
"Hm... That can't be right. Hm, you truly are hardworking. But you must remember that rest is essential, doctor." Logos whispered, as he extended his hand upwards to curl his fingers around the locks of hair that he could entwine his finger around over your head. This season really just happens to be the busiest the entire year, he understands. Logos's concern stretched beyond that of being an Elite Operator, but also, as your lover.
But now, you have won. Spring has surpassed winter. Your heart is blossoming once more with fast pacing of the heart, as it's relit with romance in his presence. You have truly learned to treasure all that's in your hands, when he had been gone for too long.
".... Doctor, may I selfishly ask of you to rest longer with me here?" At his question, you drifted your gaze upwards, tilted your head and saw his dropping eyelids. He must be very tired, you thought. After all, he had come from such a long journey. "I promise... I'll assist you with work later. I simply would like to ask if you could keep me in your arms, a bit longer while I rest."
How could you ever refuse him? You tightened your hold around him as a quiet answer and rested your head against his chest, as you could hear and feel his breathing grow slower.
"Being apart from you... I certainly have learned the full extent... Of how I feel so strongly for you, doctor. I'll always be by your side." He whispers, this time, you close your own eyes. It was a silent yes to his request.
Sunlight kept pouring in, but all was blocked out with the two lovers that have kept one another safe and warm in a shared embrace. Time seemed to slow down, as thoughts drifted away to the sea of nothingness and you were lulled once more to slumber, to join your beloved in the land of dreams.
You have all the time in the world, later, to catch up with him directly and exchange more of those pleasantries that soothed your souls mutually, especially yours. For now, the world shall be at rest. Even in the dreamland, the two lovers have reunited.
Hiya 🥹 Exe here!! Sbsjss so here is the Federico imagine I flash-wrote at 3am in one hour... that I mentioned in a post earlier today lolsksks
'Rico is my favourite and it made me v v happy to write something for him for you guys... Even if no one asked for this specifically 😭🥹🤲!! And also!! This marks the first writing on here for Federico's alter aaaa 😭🥰
Anywho! I won't ramble too long lolsnsjsj as usual I sincerely hope I've done Federico justice here 🥹 his character has really grown...!!
And I really hope you all enjoy 💘!!!
(also trying some new formatting out sbshhs... We'll see if I end up keeping it 🥹🫶)
Taglist for Executor/All Writing!:
@vesvic
@donsofwaste
@dracomultiverse
@marahuyos
Cor Novum
in which the Saint decides that now, he will acknowledge his heart; for you, he will properly ponder love.
Imagine format; very mixed perspectives, some bits from the Operator and some bits from the reader, written in second person!
Contains: Executor the Ex Foedere, gender-neutral Doctor as the reader, established relationship, Executor calls you 'love', LOTS of mentions of things and references and stuff from Executor/Executor the Ex Foedere's archive files/Operator Records, mentions of possible spoilers for the events of Hortus de Escapismo and Zwillingstürme im Herbst, LOTS of exploring of Federico's character, fluff and romance wbhshss 💕! Also not fully beta read so please excuse any errors 🥹🙏
Word count: a bit over 2.5k!
——————–
Executor would argue, the first catalyst for change in him - was you.
Since the signing of his contract with Rhodes Island, of course, a multitude of other catalysts have kindled the amassing change. His appointing as Saint had taught him faith, every death at the Sanctilaminium Ambrosii had taught him perspective, his pursuit of Arturia in Zwillingstürme had taught him patience, and the blue hue of the sky taught him solace.
The resulting changes of these were utterly irrefutable, so much so that everyone who watched or spoke with Federico now would have all confidence in stating that His Beatitude, Saint Federico Giallo could no longer be synonymous with the Notarial Hall Executor, Federico Giallo. His heart had only begun to stir, his brain had only begun to stray from logic, since his title of Saint, they would argue.
Federico, however, argued otherwise.
No; not his new role, not the unexplainable lives lost on the Sanctilaminium Ambrosii, not his long-awaited confrontation with his soror, not even that day at the Art Gallery. While he would not say these had no piece in the growth of his heart, it was you, and it had always been you, whom touched it very first.
After all - you had taught him love.
…
Previously, many would joke that Executor was your lover only in title, because they never would witness proof of any loving; seeing the both of you on dates or outings was a rarity that rivaled a cloudy day in Laterano, his public displays of affection were never more than handholding hidden under the loose sleeves of his old uniform or a brush of his lips against your temple, and any warmth ever in his expression when he turned to face you was simply too miniscule for anyone to notice but you.
“Hey…don’t tell anyone I asked, but…Is Federico really dating the Doctor? Or, did he just make that up to get those people from the R.I Engineering Department to stop asking him on dates?”
“I know, right?! I mean, I’ve never even seen the two of them kiss!”
“Who’d wanna date that hardass, anyway? Besides the looks, what could possibly be the win there?”
“Maybe he’s really good in bed?”
“Him?!”
So, imagine everyone’s surprise when, one afternoon when you were hurrying down the hall towards your office with Amiya at your side and a stack of paperwork in your hands, the ever-stoic Saint paused his stride in the opposite direction upon seeing you. He halted you with a gentle hand on your shoulder, leaned down to close the difference in height - and unceremoniously, wordlessly, expression unchanging, pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead before continuing along.
Suddenly, where there was only a brush of lips when he had ascertained nobody was looking, is now a forehead kiss whenever he might see you. The kisses were not the limit of it, either.
Soon came dessert boxes containing your favourite sweet just in time for lunch; “Love, please accept this. It aligns 91% with your preferences, and I also noticed you viewing similar desserts from the menu of Rhodes Island’s cafeteria. I thought you might enjoy it.”
Then he took your paperwork upon himself, double how much he already used to; “I have taken care of your paperwork as of last night. I organized the recruitment reports alphabetically by candidate surname, categorized the Operation summary reports by completion status, and sorted all letter mail addressed to you by sender, and date sent. Hm? Why?” He’d tilt his head, halo catching a glint of the lights overhead, “Should I have an exact reason for performing favours for my significant other?”
And, incredulous as it was, compliments began from him, albeit as best as someone as plainly-spoken as Federico Giallo could manage; “You look as nice as always, love.”
The whispers lingered in the hallways for days, somehow even squirming their way into the cubicles of the Notarial Hall offices. Had he been put under the hex or spell of someone’s Originium Arts? Had he grown sick of people not believing your relationship?
Federico cared not at all, as was expected. His explanation came only to you, and only when you ask.
…
You piped up one evening in your office, head pillowed in Federico’s lap after he had insisted you rest after hours of paperwork, “Federico?” Affection melted the ice hue of his irises to an azure blue when his eyes flick to yours peering up at him, and his fingers squeezed yours ever-gently where both your hands were intertwined over your tummy, “Yes, love?”
The Sankta had always softened around you, toward you; however, it had only ever been visible in the inch of tension his shoulders lost, in the slight dilation of his pupils, in the way his brows and jaw untightened by a hair. Now, adoration touched upon each of his facial features, he allowed it with no protest or restraint. Your head tilted slightly as you blinked up at him, eyes rounded like a curious doe, earning a tiny quirk of one platinum white brow from your lover.
Restraint — restraint is what Federico is suddenly devoid of, you realize.
The Federico Giallo who had never seen value in understanding, in considering, in allowing his emotions to wander, maintained a vice-like grip on his heart and commanded all actions by order of his systematic, logical brain. No physical contact, as it was too distracting to his duties; no time spent on determining the destructive effect of his chosen method to execute his task, if it proved to be the most efficient one; no attention spared toward anything not regarding a mission or his duties, because there was no benefit in such. Many had assumed such was only possible, either because he was a robot or he was devoid of any and all emotion.
You understood, however. It was never that Executor was unfeeling, instead that he had leashed, handcuffed, and tied up his emotions into inescapable bounds to be never loosened. It was logical, you supposed; emotion would do little to benefit the Sankta with the black-ringed halo, the ever-set jaw, and pale blue eyes fixed onto his mission.
Yet now, the Federico Giallo who’s lap you rested your head on tonight - the Sankta with the black-ringed halo, head always finding itself in a contemplative tilt, and wandering eyes that notice too much - had loosened the aforementioned restraints.
When you snapped back from your thoughts, a smile crawled slowly upon your lips when you noticed Federico had allowed his affection to linger on his face for so long, it was tangible; his softened facial features now made him akin to a vanilla gelato scoop from one of the Lateran ice cream carts.
You finally disturbed the silence, beating Federico to it before he could open his lips to ask why you’re staring, “What’s up with all the…you know?’ Your free hand lifted to gesture vaguely to your desk, occupied by stacks of Federico-organized paperwork and a now-empty sweet box from one of Laterano’s dessert carts, “You loving me extra lately?” When his eyebrows knitted together slightly at your wording, you added in a rush, “Not that I’m complaining! It’s just…”
He allowed you to trail off completely before he replied, “You are referring to the sudden increase in my acts of affection.” His gaze shifted away from yours to flick between the paperwork, the dessert box, then to the spot on your forehead he’d designated as the receiving area for his kisses. A nod from you followed, “Yes. I didn’t…say something that made you feel forced to…be more affectionate, did I?” The possibility of this caused uncertainty to waver your tone now, and a concerned frown replaced your smile, “Federico, you don’t have to be more ‘lovey’, I love how you ar--” “No, you did not.” As if to apologize for cutting you off, Federico tightened his hold on your hand once more, “Please do not misunderstand…this was not incited by anything you have said. Simply, I…”
The Sankta paused, lips closing and eyes casting off to the side before he lifted the hand not holding yours to cradle his chin; a gesture you’ve now learned meant he was considering his words. He never used to do that before.
“His Holiness advised me to ponder my actions more thoroughly. To wonder my reason for doing something, and the reasons others might perceive. To take further action even if it is unnecessary for my mission or duties.” Formality cooled his tone again upon the mention of the Pope, yet affection lingered on his words like sugar stuck on his tongue, “...recently, after completing a book I had purchased in hopes to gain further understanding, I had come to realize that you will struggle to perceive my affection in its whole unless I express it through multiple outlets.” His hand lowered from his chin to return to his side, not without brushing his fingers over the ends of your hair in a motion you question the coincidence of, “After concluding this, I determined the only solution was to begin to display the affection I hold for you in various ways.”
Your heart melted into liquid within your ribcage at that, and you stammered out in an attempt to distract him from the rosy hue rising to your cheeks - though, considering it was Federico, he had undoubtedly noticed already -, “Wait, wait, what was the book about?”
“Love languages.” The steadiness he explained this in could convince someone this was an academic topic, “In particular, the book described the giving of gifts, physical touch, words of affirmation, and acts of service.”
Your eyes widened and your lips fell agape with a noise of realization, “Oooh. I see now…that’s where all that came from. You learned it from the book!” In a swift motion, you rose to sit up and lean your body against Federico’s shoulder, curling up much like a kitten to a furnace. No tension stiffened his body upon the contact - and his arm slid around your waist with protective weight, to press you oh-slightly-closer. “Yes.”
His confirmation was paired with a nod, a miniscule movement as to not disturb your comfortable position as you tucked your face against his throat, “The book had explained as well, that as a partner, I utilize the ‘love language’ you most prefer. As I did not know which was your preference…I decided the most beneficial course of action was to trial each one until I could determine which you were most receptive to.” His voice quieted as he trails off, murmuring to himself against your hairline, a new habit you had noticed more frequently these days, “However…I am concerned I lack proficiency in the method of ‘words of affirmation’...I have referred to your appearance as ‘nice’ seven times consecutively now…”
Heat blazed on your cheeks now, and you were unsure if it was from embarrassment, upon the realization that Federico had been scrutinizing each and every of your reactions to his new acts of affection, or if it was from delight, buzzing around your heart at the fact that he had planned so elaborately only to find the best method to love you. Your head ducked further under his chin to nuzzle your face against his chest, cheek pressed just over his heartbeat before your voice left muffled against the fabric of his uniform, “Federico…you didn’t have to do all that. I really, really liked it, but that was a lot of hassle for you. You could’ve just asked…”
While his arm remained where it was draped around your waist, the other lifted in a slow movement until his hand was cradling your nape; his fingers were expectedly cool, and yet yet his touch is oh-so-warm in contrast, and you did not fail to notice how hands that used to hesitate over your skin settle with more ease now, “Yes, perhaps. However, the book had advised against such, as it would be…unromantic.”
You snorted before you could catch it, head whipping from his chest to tilt your face upward at him, “Mmph-- Why are you worrying about that? Federico, I’m not with you because you’re romantic.” The slight furrow between his eyebrows returned again, this time paired with the tiniest downward tugs of the corners of his lips, and you jolted when your poor wording settled on you, “No, no, I mean…”
A stutter, before you exhaled with a sheepish grin. Instead of words first, your hand rose to tuck stray platinum hair away from his eyes, the stubborn bits along one side of his face where he’d grown it longer, to allow time for your flusteredness to fade and your words to find you again. Federico’s head tilted towards your touch, his cheek catching a brush of your fingers.
“I mean…” You began again, hushed this time; his eyes were rapt on you yet rounding at the edges once more until it seemed like his pupils were melting, and you forced yourself to swallow the hitch that threatened to disturb your words at the sight, “I don’t love you any different for any reason…much less the ‘love language’ you ‘speak’ to me with. I love you because…you’re Federico.”
For a moment, by the slight tilt of his head and downward of his eyes, you were unsure if he would understand; too vague, too rooted in emotions he has not become acquainted with yet, too cheesy. You opened your mouth to elaborate, though your words paused on your tongue when you swear you notice the corners of his lips tilted upward by millimeters. Instead of questions - though he seemed full of them lately -, his reply came as a nod against your hand and a word softened to a murmur, “...I understand.”
Federico leaned in to close the space between you, tilting your head with the hand he still had resting on your nap; a breath, then his lips pressed an air-light kiss to the particular spot on your forehead. He lingered for one moment, two moments, three, before he retracted enough to find your eyes again, “I too, love you as you are, and as you will be.” A pause, hesitance, however restraint no longer surged forth to halt him and strangle his affection, “...and I no longer see a beneficial reason to hesitate in expressing this.”
Your hands tightened slightly where they’d slid to rest on his chest in some nonsensical worry he would pull away, shoulders perking up with a held breath as your heartbeat suddenly thud-thud-thudded in your ears. In your few moments of wide-eyed silence, you wondered if Federico would decide what he has said is too far and renege on it.
No; his softened gaze remained fixed to yours, his arm remained around your waist, his hand remained cradling the base of your head, and his lips remained shut. Even his halo and wings seemed to still completely. Not a single semblance of his previous restraint tugged at even the corner of his sleeve.
A second thud-thud-thud became unmistakable under one of your palms, and for a moment you were sure Federico had caused your heart to swell so much it had duplicated, before your eyes flicked down and you realized. Under where one of your palms was placed upon his chest, his own heartbeat is hurried, loud - and full.
The twitch in his jaw was telltale that Federico considered words, though aware as he was that they rarely favour him well, he instead moved. A gentle hand lifted; one too gentle to be the same one that operated a shotgun that had taken more lives than he had lived years, too gentle to be the same one that had pulled the trigger to send bullets between eyes or into chests with finality, too gentle to be the same one that has torn the heart clean out of an Originium beast.
It raised to rest over your own and pressed it firmer against his heartbeat.
“Love.” The term of endearment left his lips more of a breath rather than a word, “This is acceptable?”
You chimed with mirth, hand pressing closer in order to catch the stutter of his heart when you do, “More than acceptable, Federico.”
Undoubtedly, this was not the same Sankta whose certificate you had received that very first day. This Sankta wore a new title, wore a different uniform, and had a heart grown too large. And yet, undoubtedly, this Sankta - with the same blue eyes, platinum locks, and obsidian halo and wings - was still Executor. You could never doubt the softened hue of Federico’s eyes, like the sky on a sunny day, when they settle upon yours.
And likewise, Federico now found it was impossible to deny that his heart - the one he understands he swore in oath only to Laterano, the one he should be discarding if he is to serve the Law as expected of him, the the once racing so freely beneath your palm now - has ever belonged to anyone or anything but you.
Tysm for reading 🥹 Executor loves you v much! 🫶!! All my writing is dedicated to all of you guys and to loving AK's Operators~
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: 明日方舟 | Arknights (Video Game)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Ambriel/Irene (Arknights)
Characters: Ambriel (Arknights), Irene (Arknights), Spuria (Arknights)
Additional Tags: Falling In Love, First Meetings, Meet-Cute, Trans Female Character, t4t, Angst with a Happy Ending, Trans Ambriel (Arknights), Trans Irene (Arknights)
New fic out now!
I’ve been buried beneath commission work, but wanted to share something I’ve been working on to shake off some rust! Please enjoy Ambriel and Irene at their most transgender as they learn all about one another’s deepest desires!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Archive Warnings: Graphic Descriptions of Violence
Rating: E
Ship: Phantom/Shalem
Tags: post Act or Die, featuring an opera, foot job, Oral Sex, Mirror sex if you squint, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Thighfucking, Aphrodysiacs but not that much of them really, Biting, Scratching, Anal Fingering, wound fingering, Improper Use of Arts, Substance Abuse if you consider Lucian's blood wine, Frottage, Anal Sex, Graphic Description of Burn Wounds, Inflicting Burn Wounds Sexual Style, Piss Licking if you squint also, did you know that working the prostate really well means you might expel whatever little youve got in your bladder-, both virtuosa and czerny get a little mention
A/n: This is like... my first time writing ever and English isnt my first language either so please excuse any spelling or grammar mistakes.
Warnings: probably ooc(unsure)
• i think that Lumen will be very shy when he's dating someone, especially you. I dont think that Lumen will call you by any pet names because he'll probably ended up getting flustered! He'll call you by your name(softly) and when you call him by his name (Jordi) he'll be happy since he prefered his name over his codename when its just the two of you.
• Lumen is very gentle and attentive with you. Just like how he cares about others in the inquisition he'll be even more caring when it comes with you. You're tired? Dont worry Lumen already prepare a warm meal and tea or coffee for you, do you also want a massage from him too?
• Awkward. Lumen is kinda awkward at first because you are his first ever partner! He probably doesnt even expect that he's going to have a S/O when he first initially have a crush on you.
• he might be shy and awkward at first and probably get flustered easily too but Lumen does have a backbone, he will try his best to be initiative sometimes like suddenly holding your hand when walking together.
• Despite being a total sweatheart Lumen can and will do insane shit. He was once insane brave take a gamble on finding the Stultivera Navis ship so its only natural that he will probably jumps at any chance to save you if you ever get into a dangerous situation regardless of the risks(he thinks about it of course but it wont completely stop him)
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A/n: Lumen is my first ever six star with Irene so i make this fanfic bcs i love him sm <3, i know the arknights tumblr fandom is kinda dead(?) But i just want to drop this here just incase someone wants to see a Lumen fan content.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
In the meantime betweentime, I still have this 16K WORDS, that’s right, SIXTEEN THOUSAND, fanfiction of an alternative take on Talulah’s arc in Roaring Flare R route for everyone else who really loves her tragic psychological collapse. (You should maybe skip to chapter 2 especially if you don’t want to read about Mephisto. Just saying because I don’t want to lose any of you guys to chapter 1 when the bulk of the story is in chapter 2.) Endorsed via kudos by silverxp/SLVR79 who if you’re still reading I’m sure you’re familiar with and another very enthusiastic Talulah fan, TerraP/NoNameSRT.
Story Notes: You are Texas' younger sister, raised as the heir to revive the Texas Famiglia. It just so happens you have some business with her, but when you arrived at Penguin Logistics a suspicious Sankta opens the door instead.
CW: Manipulation, Dub-con, overstimulation, strong dom/sub dynamics, brat taming, time shenanigans, mostima is a sadist
Author Note: This is like a third of my ideas on this vague plot. Let me know your thoughts because I don't know how it turned out.
18+ NSFW UTC
"Good girl," Mostima whispers, nibbling on the tip of your ear and sending a shiver down your spine. She can't help the cruel smile that plays across her lips at how docile you've become, a far cry from the arrogant, brash lupo that knocked on Penguin Logistics' door this morning demanding to see Texas. Though even if you are her sister, Texas would never let Mostima be so in control. There was no question about it, she was enjoying this immensely. "I told you I know a thing or two about taming feral wolves."
Her words punctuate with a curl of her fingers, drawing a cute little moan from your lungs as she toys with you. Your hips twitch with every thrust of her fingers, every move of her hand. She's long since found every sensitive part of your body, making it a breeze to get you to melt into the palm of her hand. Mostima sees everything from the way you lie across her thighs, from the twitch of your ears at the subtle vibration of her words to the shivers that run up your spine when her fingers brush against that one spot.
Another desperate whine breaks the rhythmic sounds, just barely escaping past the fingers currently idling with your tongue. While her left hand works it's repetitive motions that are slowly driving you insane, her right has been playing with your mouth in much the same manner. It wouldn't be any fun if you kept such sweet sounds to yourself, after all.
"Obedient little thing, aren't you?" Mostima purrs, gently withdrawing her fingers from your mouth.
She doesn't expect an answer from you, not with the state you're in. No, instead of waiting for you to gather enough presence of mind to do so much as nod, she pushes a third finger into you and shatters whatever thoughts you might have had. A long, slutty, keening moan spills from your lips as your hips and tail twitch erratically. With her now free hand, Mostima cradles your jaw, her thumb gently brushing against your cheek a few times before pushing into your mouth.
"Look at me," she commands in a low voice. It's not forceful, it's authoritative. "You want to be a good girl, right?"
Your mind barely registers her words, yet instinctively you follow her voice to the best of your ability, a fact that only serves to delight Mostima further. Her hand guiding your head only serves to further incentivize obedience, making it abundantly clear you never had the option to do anything else.
Mostima's fingers slow momentarily, utterly entranced by the resemblance between you and Texas and seeing those features contorted in unrelenting, unending pleasure. She can't help staring at such blatant debauchery, to gaze in both sadistic pride and erotic excitement at the beautiful sight before her. If her hands weren't currently full she'd snap a picture, something to think about in advance next time.
Your expression is one of complete overstimulation and submission. An expression that amps up Mostima's desire to utterly ruin you. To tame you, make the ferocious wolf of Siracusa nothing more than her adorable little puppy. Tear streaks fall from eyes fogged over with lust and pleasure, unable to make sense of the world outside of Mostima. Your lupine ears twitch with every sound that reaches them, perhaps listening for Mostima's voice or listening to the wet, rhythmic sounds of her fingers pumping in and out. A thin line of drool has formed from the corner of your mouth as her thumb toys with your tongue as though you're worshiping it, utterly eclipsed by the downright filthy moans and whines that flow free. A shiver runs up your spine with every single twitch and flex of her fingers, and your hips buck with every thrust. It's abundantly clear that whatever limit you had was passed a while ago, leaving you barely holding on to consciousness.
Her face heats up at the sight, and the tip of her tail flicks in excitement as it constricts around your wrists to prevent escape or disobedience. The arousal that pools in the pit of her stomach only serves to intensify the burning desire to utterly dominate and own you. You're already so pliant, surely it wouldn't be that hard to make you docile and obedient the rest of the time.
It took less than an hour for her to reduce you to this, to take the proud scion of the Texas family and completely ruin her. To turn you from a scary famiglia heiress into an obedient little wolf pup. Less than an hour for her at least, for you it's been several hours of being drowned in constant pleasure. Several hours of her turning your brain to mush with only her fingers and honeyed voice.
Mostima finally lets the Arte drop, mercifully returning your sense of time to normal as she not so mercilessly commits all of her focus to drawing one more, all consuming orgasm out of you. What before was a rather lazy, constant rhythm of her fingers that just occasionally found all the spots that make your spine curl and thoughts go fuzzy is now intensely and relentlessly pushing you to whatever your breaking point is. Her fingers twist and scissor inside you while her fingers fuck you so, so much faster than before to deliberately brush against as many sensitive spots as she can.
She watches your expression twist from one of mindless pleasure to intense lust, yet still lacking in the mental capacity to do much more that gasp and moan. Your eyes start to roll back as they did with your first orgasm, still cloudy as before. Mostima's hand slips around from under your chin to the back of your head, gently scratching behind your ears which only serves to further overstimulate you. Your voice comes out in broken moans and gasps for any oxygen you can get, the next one starting before the one before it could end. Her tail which had bound your wrists slackens, then soon releases them entirely as your arms give out completely and you fall headlong into Mostima's grasp. She carefully shifts your weight, lifting your ass higher while her other hand lays your head next to her thigh.
You rock your hips desperately trying to match the rhythm of Mostima's fingers and coming up drastically short but subconsciously chasing that high all the same. Your ears and tail flick erratically, only made worse by her constant toying with them. She can see the way your body copes with the pleasure. The way your toes curl and your spine bends. The way your legs spasm. That familiar heat that's been coiling in your stomach is now a raging inferno, set to snap at any moment, and yet something is holding it back.
"Go ahead my little wolf," Mostima murmurs, just barely audible over your half muffled cries of ecstasy, "Break."
As if waiting for her command, that tightly wound flame snaps.
Without so much as a moment passing, the dam breaks and unimaginable pleasure washes over you, tearing the loudest and most satisfied moan Mostima's ever heard from your throat. Ecstasy beyond reckoning assails every single one of your senses, leaving your already overloaded mind to hopelessly try and process it all. She can feel the way your body clenches and flutters around her fingers, causing some more resistance and yet she continues on like nothing happened. The tension that had built throughout your body leaves in waves, resulting in a series of violent tremors and aftershocks that leave your hips twitching and back spasming. Mostima doesn't slow her movements until its clear your orgasm is dying down, though she makes sure to prolong it as long as she can, until finally she stops.
Only once the tremors end does Mostima regard you, unsurprised to see you've passed out. She slowly withdraws her fingers, making sure to gently scratch your ears to try and counteract the sensation of her fingers dragging against your walls. Even still a jolt runs down your spine as she hits that spot again, perhaps intentionally. Her fingers naturally come away sticky and wet, still connected to your dripping pussy by a few strands of slick, the sight of which only adds to Mostima's own arousal.
Mostima's thoughts move quickly, cleaning your slick off of her hand with her tongue. With practiced movements, she grabs her phone from where it sits on the nightstand with her tail and navigates to the calendar app. Her eyes flit all across the schedule, creating a timeline for the company's current jobs. Surely obedience won't stick with just one training session, not for a proud lupo like you. In fact, it's quite possible you'll be very difficult when you finally regain your senses, so more training will be in order. Fortunately, it seems she has time.
