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a-nemoiia · 2 months

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PSA - Community Predator

Over a series of months, myself and other Tumblr users -- fic writers, gif makers, fans of created content -- have been victimised by @mrkdvidal1989, who has extensively lied about who he is, preyed on multiple women and denied involvement -- therefore ruining friendships, reputations and feelings, and promised me life-saving medical treatment that he never followed through on.

More information including mine and their stories under the cut.

The reason I am going public with this is twofold:

A) To protect others from being hurt. He is known to reach out to many tumblr users, especially young women in the Cillian Murphy fandom -- but he may have a wider reach beyond this circle. B) Since his "disappearance" three weeks ago and the unravelling of his lies, this man has ruined my life and the only hope I had of obtaining treatment for a condition that has been plaguing me for four years.

Killian Vidal is the name he has chosen to give us, and has claimed to be both a officer commander and general in the mobility troop in the SAS (the general rank does not even exist), has beaten cancer a while ago (but said to another mutual that his "time was running out" and he is currently struggling with it), and a plethora of other life experiences and general knowledge about him that varies in consistency when talking to different people and is questionable in its validity. He has also shared pictures of "himself" that when reverse image searched, belong to different people.

I got to know Kill when he reblogged one of my fanfics (as the story seems to start with a lot of his victims) and he reached out via DMs. We quickly became close friends who called nearly every day on Discord and when I told him about my health issues, he immediately offered to pay for my medical treatment wherever I could find willing doctors.

I was hesitant to believe this at first since all of this seemed too good to be true (and was). He claimed to be very wealthy, enough to afford private jets like it was nothing and to rent me an apartment in the UK in the same building as him. Over time, I grew to trust him because he felt like such a genuine person and friend, which was made all the more believable by the fact that he has such a huge following on Tumblr and was, at the time, part of a vast social network of fans and friends (one of which he even claimed to know IRL -- who will remain anonymous unless they decide to speak out). I decided to ignore the little red flags because I was so desperate to receive this treatment that for me would be life-saving.

For four years, I have been plagued by an array of (mostly) undiagnosed digestive issues that have made my life almost unbearable and have on numerous occasions nearly killed me due to malnutrition. I've spent months in hospital, endured years of malpractice and misdiagnoses, undergone heart surgery, and have tried absolutely everything I can to get better. In the winter of 2023, I was told by my doctor that I was refused in the TPN program (a treatment that may have slowed or stopped my weight loss) and that with or without it, I was looking at mortality. Refusing to stop fighting but having exhausted the public health care system in Canada, I went into 2024 not really having much hope of anything anymore.

So, when Kill came along, that changed. He promised -- and I mean, from the bottom of his heart, promised -- that he would help me get treatment, that he would get me out of my abusive home and fly me to the UK, that he would be there for me as my friend, etc. I was beyond grateful, and as my trust with him built, so did my hope.

The travel plans kept getting put off; originally, he would fly me out as soon as the apartment became available, which was the 11th of Feb, 2024. He kept finding excuses to not book the jet. Finally, it seemed as if around the 15th/16th I would be flying. My health had been declining rapidly and the situation was becoming all the more urgent, and he said he was in contact with a pilot and would send the ticket soon and call me.

That was the last I heard from him. The 16th.

Initially thinking he had ended his life (he had discussed thoughts of suicide with me prior to this), I was beside myself with worry not only thinking one of my closest friends was gone but also that my chance at life was. I reached out to his other friends, and I made several calls to the UK authorities and emergency services and ended up requesting a welfare check be made to see if he was even alive.

They reported that no one under the name Killian Vidal was in the records of the building name he gave me -- the same building that I was meant to live in within that week.

After reaching out to my now beloved friend @kittenonpluto (A.K.A., Cas) on Tumblr, I learned that Kill was in fact alive, and had told her that he was in hospital for digestive issues in Indianopolis, United States (though again, no record of his name in their medical system). He still wouldn't talk to me, but told her to tell me that he would reach out when he was out of hospital.

Cas and I compared information he'd told us (her story will be attached to this post) and looked into the mystery more. He constantly dodged confrontation and questions about the fake photos and information he'd sent her, and seemed to use his completely fabricated hospitalisation as an excuse to not fulfil his promises to myself and her, as well as a means to garner sympathy.

It was quite obvious that he didn't know how the American medical system worked, and he even incorporated elements of my actual story and used them in his. When asked about his treatments, he responded with medically false information. He reported digestive issues, reflux, and having both an NG tube and TPN -- both of which I have experience with -- and let me say, I am beyond disgusted and infuriated that my real life trauma was used as a ploy in all this.

How do we know for a fact this is false? I checked the police case for his welfare check again, and they said that they confirmed him being in the UK at the same time he had told Cas he was in hospital in the States.

After a final confrontation from both Cas and myself (and a desperate final plea for the medical aid he promised me), he was never heard from again from either of us or our friend circles.

I'm now having to pick up the pieces he's left me in and to be honest, I have little to no idea of what the hell to do or how to save myself. The fact that he strung me along for a month and built up my hope that I was going to live only to abandon me without even a word is deplorable to me.

And mine isn't the only story. I've heard from four women on Tumblr (who, again, will remain anonymous unless they choose to speak out) who he has been romantic or sexually involved with (and lied about his involvement, made them out to seem insane or toxic, created rifts in our friendships, toyed with their emotions, and made false promises to of relationships, marriage, and finances).

And that's not including the ex-wife who came back to Tumblr to claim that her and Kill had never met nor married. She was promptly silenced by a "lawyer threat" that we have strong reason to believe was a bluff.

At the end of the day, there are so many lies, half-truths, inconsistencies, etc. this man has wrapped himself in and we don't know for the life of us what his motives are, but from the information that we do know is false, he isn't genuine. He toys with people. He hurts them. Myself and the others that have been affected by this want that to stop.

And at any point, he has the ability to make a new account, and take on a new persona, pretend to be someone else. Tumblr is a wonderful place and I have met so many cool people on here, but please be careful about who you interact with and what you share, because aside from making this post, it is beyond my power to stop him from doing what he does. But after what he did to me, I could not remain silent.

Other Stories

If you have an experience or story with Killian that you would like heard, please reblog it on this thread or make a post. With your consent, I can include a link to it below.

Final Note

Lastly, if you have read this far, thank you.

If you want to reach out to me about this issue -- whether it's to anonymously share your experience, ask questions, ask for evidence (of which I can back up these statements with), or anything at all --, please do not hesitate to do so. <3

For those who may be worried about the potential legality of this post, everything that I have stated as fact is fact and it is not my intention to slander or spread false information.

#warning #mrkdvidal1989 #signal boost #predator warning

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a-nemoiia · 2 months

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˖ ࣪⭑

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a-nemoiia · 2 months

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「 Hidden scars 」

Summary: The emotional scars from Robert's traumatic childhood pose an obstacle in his marriage.

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: A slap (he deserves it) + reference to abortion

Note: Thank you to @red-riding-wood for helping me 🫶🏻

The clicking of fine silverware against family china was the only sound piercing throught the heavy silence that had fallen over the dinning room, everyone's eyes drifted between one another, exchanging glances as if they could see the dark cloud hanging heavily over your husband's head, a visible indication of his sour mood.

Hesitation gripped your heart as you looked at Robert, his eyes distant, barely interested in the food infront of him as he pushed it around the plate, Gently, you tried to reach for his hand to comfort him, but before you could Robert withdrew his, as if your touch was meant to burn him.

The heavy scrap of wood against floor tiles caught everyone's attention, as Robert pushed his chair back, stood on his feet and excused himself, leaving you behind, sitting there under the heavy gaze of judgement from both your families.

Your heart ached, and you moved from your chair in an attempt to follow him but the cold voice of the old man stopped you"Leave him" Robert's father said dismissively, not even showing the slightest bit of concern for his only son "He's always causing trouble" he muttered under his breath, making your hand tighten around your cutlery, how could any parent be so heartless!

A couple of hours earlier...

You stood in the bathroom, frozen, your eyes locked on the plastic stick in your hand displaying two red lines. A surge of emotions took place within you, Joy, excitement but most of all fear...

Beacuse you and Robert never talked about growing your little family...well, you did, all he did was just listen, "It's still a bit early for that" he'd say, dismissing the conversation whenever you broached the topic on a random night,. It worried you, what if he wasn't ready yet? But you've been married for quite sometime now, and his father frequently asking for grandchildren only added pressure.

"Babe!" Robert called over for you but his voice couldn't pierce through the turmoil taking place inside your head, you remind motionless, your eyes kept staring at the two faint lines, as if sheer concentration could make them vanish.

Lost in your thoughts, you failed to notice his return until he called for you again"Y/n..." robert spoke your name from the door way, still clad in his expensive suit, turning around to fully face him, you saw his gaze drift to the test in your hand, like iron to magent, with a nervous smile on your face you gently announced "I'm pregnant", Hoping that these words would bring him joy.

Unfortunately, silence was his only response, the man with blue eyes simply turned around and continued his daily routine without exchanging a single word with you. Leaving you with doubts you dreaded believing now confirmed.

That evening you remained seated at the dinner table, drained, after the families took their leave, your eyes obsereved the maids as they cleared away the plates. With a heavy sigh you rose from your seat, and made your way upstairs to where your husband was.

With a simple push, the bedroom door opened quitley, stepping inside, you found Robert standing in the balcony, gazing out into the night, slowly you made your way to him, and gently you placed a hand on his back "Robbie..." you started although you didn't know what to say "I don't want children" Robert said without turning, his voice cutting through the silence and might as well through your heart "What?" you asked, your voice barely audible.

Your husband turned around to face you then, the gentle eyes you swore held the warmth of a thousand sun now cold as ice "I dont want kids" he repeated, plainly.

With a quite sigh you reached for him, smoothing his already wrinkle free shirt in a calming gesture "Robbie, I know this is sooner than expected, but I'm sure we're will be fine..." you said, in a soothing voice, trying to calm your worried husband, a loving smile tugging on your lips as visions of your happy future filled your heart.

Robert shock his head, removing your hands not so gently, he looked at you intensely, and you could see the internal conflict ragging within him"You're not listening y/n, I don't want kids, not now, not ever" he said firmly and you swore you could hear your heart splinter within your chest.

The rejection cut deep as the future which seemed to take shape inside your head shattered into a million piece...

Deep down you knew he wasn't ready, a small part of you already expected him to react this way, but you never imagined such a blunt rejection. Your thoughts raced as you looked at him, the moonlight creased his features and you searched his face for any sign that he didn't mean what he said.

"How could you keep this from me? I've talked about this countless times, not once did you think I should know about your true feeling?" you asked with a frown, your tone showing the hurt and frustration buildind inside you.

Robert strode into the room, leaving you standing in the balcony, but you matched his steps, uwilling to let him brush this topic aside anymore, not when you're already carrying his child...

Grasping his arm, you brought his strides to a halt "Don't walk away from me!" you pleaded, "I'm carrying your child Robert, I know we didn't plan this but that doesn't change anything" you continued, looking into his eyes earnestly, but Robert rolled his eyes at your statement as if he didn't believe you.

Skipitism was written all over his face"Give me a break, You think I'll believe this wasn't your plan all along?" Robert accused you, as he gestured coldly at your still-flat abdomen.

His words stung deeply. the man who always expressed his profound love to you now accused without care for your feeling. The lips that kissed away your tears now dripped with venom and the tongue that whispered sweet nothings in your ear every night now turned sharp meant to inflict pain.

Shocked, you whispered in disbelief as you fought back tears "You...you truly believe I tricked you?", his words felt like a punch in the gut. How could he think so low of you? Why right now when you've been together for years already!

A bitter scoffe escaped his lips "Why not? You've been nagging about this for how long now? A year? 2 years? Of course you'd pull up a stunt" Robert said, and before his rational thoughts could intervene, he spat his next words "Is it even mine?" anger ignited within you, mingling with your hurt, without reasoning your hands met his cheek in a sharp slap.

Silence bounced off the walls following the echo, as you both looked at each other, like two strangers on roads that don't intersect. Distrust and anguish overflowing from your eyes.

Your voice cracked with the threat of tears "Don't you fucking dare, Fischer... If I wanted to have that kid through manipulation it would've happened long time ago, on our first night together" you said through gritted teeth.

Taking a shakey breath you continued "But that had never been my way... I'm not someone who plots behind my partner's back, I don't make the biggest life decisions alone, I don't decide for our future without sharing a word" you said, tears escaped your eyes, your chest heaving with effort to contain the pain eating at your heart, as your gaze held his.

Visably swallowing the thick sliva trapped in his throat, Robert squeezed his eyes shut before he dared to speak "We don't have to go through with it.There are ways to-...we can just stay as we are, nothing needs to change" he said quitley, his gaze avoiding yours as his words hung heavy in the air.

You couldn't fathom the suggestion that just came out from the mouth of the man who had vowed to cherish you, sharp and painful like the singing crack of a whip. However, the look in Robert's eyes didn't match the bitterness tainting his tongues...

Looking at your husband, you didn't see malice but fear, as if deeper pain and confusion was hiding beneath the surface of what he said.

Standing before you, wasn't a cruel man but a lost child, who grasped at the only answer he knew, because at least to him, it seemed better than facing failure and safer than turning anything like his own father...

The vulnerability in your husband's eyes slowly erased the anger inside of you, replacing it with compassion and empathy towards the man who was hurting as much as you right now.

Drawing a shallow breath that barely seemed to fill your lunges, you thought about your next words carefully "I believe we need time to think...I'm not going to force you into a life you didn't chose, Robert...neither can I stay where trust has been broken" you said, wiping away the traces of fresh tears staining your cheeks, you continued "... Until then, I'll be waiting for your decision, and I can only hope that this time you'll share it with me before it's too late again" with that your legs carried you out of the room

Your parting words left Robert to reflect on everything that had happened, his heart chanting prayers, matching the ones inside you, that this won't destroy everything you had built together... that this time, he'd be making the right choice, for you, him and the future of the little life growing inside you, soon to enter his world.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #robert fischer x y/n #robert fischer x reader #inception fanfiction #robert fischer imagine #robert fischer x you #robert fischer fic #cillian murphy fanfiction

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a-nemoiia · 2 months

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CRYING UGLY TEARS RN

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a-nemoiia · 2 months

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Yellow Light

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x F!Reader

Summary: Jonathan is your guide as you escape Arkham Asylum.

Based off the song "Yellow Light" by Of Monsters and Men (original version here and acoustic version here). This song is really special to me and helped me brave my heart surgery in August. A lot of this fic is a projection of my own experiences, trauma, and health issues over the past several years -- but Arkham can represent absolutely anything you want it to that you or the character is trying to escape.

Song lyrics are in bold.

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, depictions of PTSD (hospital trauma specifically), drug addiction/use, psychosis, hallucinations, fear of death, blood.

Will also use similar themes to my upcoming series "Darkness Until Dawn" and OC Cassie Hart but this is a standalone x reader fic.

I also feel like Crane might come across a bit OOC in this fic because he's in an established relationship with the reader and he's in a comforting role, but I promise I have some very fucked-up stuff for him coming up where he's an absolute menace.

WC: 3309

Sounds of Hell threaded themselves into the night air. Howling, bleating, baying down the streets. Whispering thoughts of death into your ears. Thoughts that formed into icy talons that raked down your spine, that stirred goosebumps along the bare flesh of your arms. That froze you in place, your heart slamming against your ribs as they tethered you to the cold concrete like vines.

Frantic looks cast to your left, to your right, you turned, stumbling over your own feet as you whirled, the darkness of each alleyway sinking into your soul. Staring back at you as if to say, you cannot escape me.

I’m looking for a place to start. Everything feels so different now.

Which way was out? Which way was back there? Back to the dingy halls of Arkham, the acrid stench of spoiled cafeteria food, the howling of patients that still seemed to echo back to you from the alleys.

The maw of a great beast parted, razors of teeth glinting silver in the dark, stretching from one brick wall to another. Hurtling towards you, wisps of black smoke emerging from the darkness and curling round you like hissing tongues. The roar started as a peal of thunder, and ended as a shockwave, razor teeth shattering into glass as the beast collided against your skull. Dizzying waves sent the world spinning, brought you to your knees before the Devil himself.

She’s good as dead.

The beast’s maw burned hot as hellfire, breathing smoke into your aching lungs, ripples of molten lava racing beneath your skin. Teeth tore into your shoulder as your hand met the ground, shaking fingers settling into the grooves of the concrete like cold tiles. Death’s talons wrapped around your throat as a cry twisted from your larynx, pointed nails morphing to scalpels and tearing down your sternum, splitting open your ribs and baring your bleeding heart.

Crimson freckled the concrete, splatters of your blood landing hot and thick against the back of your hand as cold washed over each limb, the darkness creeping in from the corners of the alleys. You reached your free hand to your forehead, and nearly cried out again in pain, but you couldn’t speak; something sharp wedged itself between your fingers, something sticky attaching webs of hair against your clammy palm.

Your hand came away with a shard of glass protruding from the stretch of skin between your fingers, red dribbling down flesh too pale to be living.

Your stomach buckled, and you curled in on yourself, eyes rolling to the back of your throbbing skull and voices pouring in like a tide.

Get back here! She’s running. Running away. Where does she think she’s going? She’s not going anywhere. She can’t escape us. You can’t escape us.

Patients rattled the bars of their cages, threw themselves against their padded walls. Screeched warnings and mournful wails and haunted cries into the stale air of the hospital, into the icy chill of night.

Fingers seized into talons as they closed around your ears, attempting to block out the noise as it built into a terrifying crescendo, wails and whispers melding together as if the darkness were mocking you but the chill that swathed your impotent form reminded you of your isolation.

GET OUT! your lips parted to say but fell silent upon the words of the damned. Let me go. Let me go, let me go.

Warmth brushed your shoulder, and you blinked saline from your eyes, streaking salt down your lip, dampened hair falling over blurry vision as you looked up to the hand held to you in the darkness. The white cuff of a shirt disappearing beneath a black suit.

Just grab hold of my hand. I will lead you through this wonderland.

And his voice, soft and warm and human, cut through the noise. Hollowed a path through the tunnel of voices and breathed life into lungs that gasped for air. Sent a tremble of fear through death’s icy talons and made the demons crawl back into the earth.

I’m here, he said.

You couldn’t straighten your claw-like grip as it brushed the warmth of his hand, but his fingers entwined in yours and the glass split his palm and bled over your knuckles and he pulled, your shoulder screaming in pain and your legs wobbly beneath you, but you stood.

Your fingers balled into a fist, the touch of his hand dissolving like a pill in water, like sutures that held you to together for one moment only to leave you in pieces, scarred and bruised and broken. For a moment, you thought you’d fall again.

Faintly, a glow emerged from the blackness, silhouetting the lazy fall of a feather, so tranquil in contrast to the tendrils of ink black that writhed in your peripheral. You swiped a hand out to the feather, its softness akin to his hand, but the voices hissed at you to look up.

The jagged peaks of the skyscrapers groaned above, folding in across the dim sky and curling into black tides that came crashing around you as pressure mounted in your skull.

The darkness devoured you.

Water up to my knees. But sharks are swimming in the sea.

The ocean came flooding in around you, dampness seeping into the cuffs of your trousers, rising as the blackness pressed in around you. Ahead, the light glinted yellow, casting a thin line of white against the waves. The feather bobbed along the surface, chased by current that now buffeted the backs of your knees.

One foot placed before the other, you waded through the water, each step weighing heavier than the last. Each time, the light ahead grew just a little brighter, though the sides of your vision darker.

Wretched creatures began to emerge from the darkness, hissing and snarling and reaching for you in tendrils of smoke and ink. Gravity began to pull you downward, the current guiding you forwards as the alleyway morphed into a tunnel, and the voices of the underworld rang louder in your skull as you descended into the bowels of the city.

She’s heading into the darkness. The rot.

A giggle, echoing against the walls of the chamber that reeked of all things barren and desolate. Her mind’s a disease.

The reach of death grew thick here, in twisted ropes and vines that swallowed the arched ceiling, that bore down on you like snakes and streaked through the sea like eels of tar, the water itself no longer seeming so heavy in comparison as they engulfed each limb. Tightening. Shuddering.

She can’t get very far. She’s killing herself.

She has to. She has to live.

The voices were starting to argue.

Some were even voices you knew; they came to you past the iron bars nestled into pockets of your memories, depressions in the walls – people you’d known in that awful place cried out to you, cursed you, their faces fuzzy but still recognisable even in the darkness. Fellow souls trapped in the place that knew not of the sun’s warmth against your skin or the whistle of freedom through the wind.

Look. Look, girl.

Your brow furrowed, and your eyes scanned the darkness. With each face they landed on, the symphony of wails seemed to spike in volume along to the frantic thud of your heart, the little weaving line of a monitor etching itself across your mind’s eye.

Not there. No, not there.

Can’t she feel it?

It’s too late. The rot has her.

Soon it will reach her soul.

Your heart came lurching to a burning throat as the waters stirred and a creature emerged from their murky depths, slivers of metal protruding from its back before it disappeared, for half a moment resembling the wicked tips of syringes that still pricked your swiftly numbing skin.

Tearing your hands from the water, you froze, paralysis seeping in to every pore.

Ink tendrils snaked across the pallor of your flesh. From your fingertips to your elbows, the rot had taken you. It tightened round your forearm, your fingers turning completely numb.

You screamed.

Shhhhh, he soothed. Just come to me, darling. I’ll make it all better.

“JONATHAN!” Your mangled cry turned into something intelligible, the name sweet like honey on your tongue despite the bitterness of bile at the back of your throat.

Just follow my yellow light. And ignore all those big warning signs.

You began to slosh through the water, seeking him out in a frenzy, your teeth gritting as the walls of your skull began to cave in, as the rot spread to your shoulders and turned the water to pitch.

And at last, you saw him. Like the feather, silhouetted by the light, but unmistakably him. He paused, looking over his shoulder, strands of his black hair wisping this way and that. His face was shadowed, the sockets of his eyes black. The frames of his glasses glinted silver in the dark, like the teeth, the scalpels.

And he disappeared round the corner that twisted, walls shifting and shuddering as if forming a maze for a path.

Death’s icy fingers pried their way beneath your skin as the cold seeped past your blood and bones and settled somewhere deep inside the dwindling warmth of your soul. Freed from the water at last, you turned the corner and raised a rot-wreathed hand to the light fractured by a criss-cross pattern that reminded you of the bars of the asylum’s gate.

And the damp air became dry and musty, and the sewers morphed into dingy halls, alabaster wallpaper peeling back to reveal the black rot. Your pace quickened as these walls closed in, groaning with curses of the damned.

Just a little farther, the soothing, slightly-lilted baritones of his voice encouraged you on, but every turn you made down the narrowing halls, he managed to evade you, disappearing just out of reach. At the end of each hallway, what must’ve been a sewer drain and not a gate yawned from the blackness, little pockets of light stretching wider with each turn.

The feather crunched beneath your toes.

Fingers wrapped around the bars of the gate, and the hinges squealed as it swung open, your feet slotting into indentations along the walls as you desperately attempted to pull yourself up.

Warmth made you shiver in your cold sweat, and whispers funnelled into thin threads and lay buried beneath the ground as his hand met yours. In the faint glimmer of the light, you witnessed the rot dissipate, chased away by his touch. Purified.

“Jonathan,” you breathed, pulled flush to his chest, the mint of his breath raking across your lashes and the familiarity of his musk inhaled deeply through flared nostrils. You buried your face in his wrinkled tie and dress shirt and sobbed, your tears still tasting like saline. You savoured this moment, trembling beneath his touch, his hand petting the back of your dampened hair. You pulled away only as he hissed in pain.

“Jonathan, I’m scared,” you whimpered, guilty that you had seemed to wound him but caring only for sanctuary in this moment in which you knew nothing but fear. “Please don’t leave me. I’m so, so scared.”

“I know you are,” he said, squeezing your shoulder. “But you have to keep going.”

“Where? Where are you taking me?” You stared into the hollows of his eyes, still pitch black past the glint of those silver frames. Why couldn’t you properly see him? Could he see you? Was he just another shadow, a trick of light on the wall?

Somewhere deep in the dark, a howling beast hears us talk.

Sirens wailed from the alley behind, and your blood ran cold. Jonathan stepped away, his touch tearing from yours almost painfully. Like he’d left the shards of glass in your palms.

“Don’t let them take me!” You pleaded, stumbling forward through the darkness. “I can’t go back! I can’t! COME BACK!”

She’s so afraid. So pathetic. She can’t do this without him.

The light grew in intensity, tinted more gold now than yellow, bathing the walls in a soft glow as they drew impossibly close, tapering the air in your lungs, building the pressure against your temples until your shoulders sagged under the weight of fatigue and white-hot fire cleaved your skull in two.

Jonathan paused, and turned. “Close your eyes,” he told you. “It’s not so dark here when you embrace it.”

I dare you to close your eyes. And see all the colours in disguise.

“NO!” You screeched, afraid that if you so much as blinked, he’d disappear, and you’d be lost to the darkness forever. You lurched forward on your heel, wedging yourself between the shuddering walls that closed in around you, following the same – and only path – he had taken. Turning sideways, you gulped in a breath of air, fingers scraping madly against the brick walls as the tide beginning to pool again round your ankles. The sky collapsed, pinning you, forcing your only breath from your lungs and snapping your ribs around your stuttering heart.

She’s gone. She won’t make it. She can’t reach him.

The air grew stuffy, stale. Your own breath bounced off the walls and flushed your cold, tear-streaked cheeks.

“Just trust me,” Jonathan said. “Just let go.”

Running into the night. The earth is shaking and I see a light.

With the darkness claiming you and the ground beneath you quaking with wrath, the howls of the damned echoing through a familiar hall, the world swaying on its axis, you had no choice but to suffocate your fear, to shutter your eyes closed on the light that seeped through the crack in the walls, warm against your skin in the cold dread of night.

She’s giving up.

She’s fighting.

She wants to die.

She wants to live.

The yellow-gold exploded across the backs of your eyelids, streaking like fireworks along the pitch black. Your skull still throbbed in pain, and your lips parted, the sound of a window banging against old hinges as death whispered to you through the alleys, the sewers, the hallways.

Next time.

Jonathan’s touch met your clammy palm, and the world fell silent, the walls disappearing around you and the emptiness of air spilling around your limbs.

I’m here, he reminded you.

The light is blinding my eyes, as the soft walls eat us alive.

Your eyelids peeled back to reveal the checkered, rose pattern of your wallpaper, the bright fluorescents of the bathroom, the blue eyes that bore into your own past silver frames. Slivers of ice encroaching on ink black pupils, cold and calculating yet echoing a familiar warmth.

He loosened the makeshift tourniquet from your arm, pins and needles racing from your fingertips to your elbow. A syringe of your favourite poison lay on the bathroom tile, beige powder swirling in a sea of saline.

“Come back to me. Come back to me, please,” he begged, as if for this moment alone, he allowed himself to believe in the higher power you knew he cursed.

Water seeped into your clothing like the sea of pitch, spilling from the bathtub that you had left on. It carried little rivulets of crimson around a minefield of glass. He didn’t seem very concerned with turning it off right now, despite always bitching at you about saving electricity or water. His eyes were on you, and only you.

“Jonathan,” you mumbled weakly, though you thought you screamed; your eyelids fluttered and your heart pounded faster in your chest as the darkness threatened to spill across your vision again. Your nails dug past the fabric of his suit, gripping his arm tight so that he could never let you go.

“I’m here,” he breathed, and reached his other hand around your neck to cup your head, to bring you forward. You glimpsed the white ceramic of the bathroom sink, bloodied where you’d tried to steady yourself with your hand after you’d bashed your skull against the mirror – your ineffectual attempt to cast the demons out. Glass shards lay scattered against the tile. Fragments of your broken reflection.

You still remembered the haunted look you’d hoped to banish from your eyes.

“You have to get your head out of that place,” he murmured against your scalp, his fingers bloody and sticky as he brushed shards of glass from your hair, seemingly immune to the pain. “You’re not in hospital anymore. You’re here. With me. You have to come back to me.”

Your lower lip trembled. “I can’t escape them,” you admitted, voice a mere whimper. “I can’t escape it. You’re here to take me back, aren’t you? You’re gonna lock me up.”

For a moment, you really thought that he might; his palm still rested, warm and bleeding, against your cheek, but his cold blue eyes studied you not as his lover but as his patient, assessing your condition. He sighed, as if disappointed. Shame crawled its way beneath your skin like the cockroaches that had infested the asylum’s lower wards. You had always been so desperate for his approval, he rarely saw this side of you since your rehabilitation. It wasn’t until slivers of ice shattered into twin pools of blue fire that relief began to seep into you, slow and warm but whelming.

“No. No, I’m not,” he said, voice gentle, soothing. Blue eyes glanced to your head again. “Though, you are showing symptoms of a concussion…”

Your heart sped in your chest, and the icy talons of death speared your soul, the darkness hedging the borders of your vision. Innerved by your fear, you reached for the bottle of tiny white pills that lay open, haphazard next to you. But the warmth of his hand left your face, and your fingers clenched around nothing. In a blur of movement, Jonathan threw the bottle at the toilet and it clattered against the back of the seat. You jolted, gasping, wincing as the jagged teeth of the beast sliced through your clothing.

“You prescribed me those,” you told him. “They’re supposed to make me better. You said so yourself.”

“I’ll fill you a new prescription tomorrow. Taper you off. They were no good for you,” he said, and laced his fingers through the bloodied locks of your hair. Pulled your forehead to his so that your breaths became one, and the demons in your skull grew muffled, and his warmth chased away the icy touch of death.

“What am I gonna do?” you whimpered, sobbing, hands grasping feebly at whatever you could grab hold of – his sleeve, his tie, his collar. You felt as if your soul, your mind, were laying in fragments around you like the glass, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t piece them back together. “I just want to be free. I just want to be okay.”

“I know.” He inhaled, closing his eyes, and his grip tightened on your hair, scalp stinging slightly at the almost needy action. Like in this moment he was more afraid of losing you than you were him.

Even he thinks she’s a lost cause.

And Jonathan was never one to utter false truths; because you knew this about him, his silence unnerved you. But finally, after what could’ve been hours or minutes of your pitiful sobbing and the endless drone of the tub, the trickling of water against the tile, he said,

“I’ll be right here, darling. All you need to do is take my hand.” The warmth of his palm slotted into your own, and you wove your fingers so tight that your knuckles turned white around the blood that trickled down both your wrists from the jagged glass that barbed your flesh. A seal. A pact.

“I will see you through this,” he said. “All of it. I promise.”

MASTERLIST • REQUEST

Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed to any of my taglists and notified of new works!

Taglist: @emotionalcadaver @zablife @shelbydelrey @look-at-the-soul @brummiereader @mrkdvidal1989 @fiercelittlemouse @ohwellthatslifesstuff @purplesnorlaxplush @drcranessweetestdoe @goblinjnr @mizzbel @s0urmarvel @onasmoko @elenavampire21 @rysko @chris-seb-marvel @muhahaha303 @novemberschy @thatonesinglefriend @forgottenpeakywriter @your-nanas-house @onehornedbeast @kiss-me-cill-me @ilovefictionalpsychopaths @birminghamshelbyboys @sometimes-i-sing @olivialveshbc @urlivingdeadgirl @kadethomes @iwannadie07 @persephonaoflove @ssweetleaf @a-nemoiia @cillianhead

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane x you #scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane imagines #jonathan crane fic #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy fanfic

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a-nemoiia · 3 months

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Hating on Cillian's new photoshoot because he's wearing pink or saying "It looks feminine" when you know that he plucked his eyebrows, did his own make up and shaved his whole body right before his wedding to play a trans woman at the ripe age of 28 is just insane...

#He did that for 12 consecutive weeks #AND HE ENJOYED IT #Imagine losing your mind over some colours #cillian murphy #Cillian

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a-nemoiia · 3 months

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「 In sickness and health 」

Summary: A small incident leads Thomas Shelby into a new battle with an invisible enemy

Word Count: 1.3K

Warnings: POTS symptoms (dizziness, struggle to breath, almost fainting, etc) + written through fever so there might be a few mistakes.

Note: A big thank you to @saltburnwhore for educating me on this topic, and I apologise in advance if it doesn't meet your expectations

It's been nearly 2 months now since the Garrison closed it's doors for renovation at Polly's request, and the loyal patrons were eager to return to their favourite pub.

That's why crowds now were packed infront of the entrance on the opening day, and once Thomas opened the newly polished doors, everyone poured inside barely leaving space for another person to set a foot. But that didn't stop them from enjoying themselves as the band John brought played loud music in celebration.

Harry struggled to keep up with the packed pub on his on, so without hesitation, Polly and y/n joined him behind the bar, pouring drinks and opening taps. And after a couple of hours, Harry shouted over the loud music "We ran out of whiskey"

Turning to y/n who was helping serve pints, Polly said "There's a new whisky delivery in the storage from last night, take the keys from Tommy and bring a couple of bottles, hurry!", as she took the glasses from her hands to continue serving the waiting customers.

Y/n didn't waste anytime, looking around the pub she spotted her boyfriend stepping out for a smoke away from the noise, "Tommy!" she called over, getting his attention as she made her way to his side. "I need the keys. Polly needs a couple of bottles, we're running low already" she explained as she held out her palm waiting for him to give her the keys.

Taking a look inside the crowded pub, Thomas turned to face her "A few bottles won't cut it..." he noted, as he took her hand in his, and led her to the back storage. With a twist of his keys he unlocked the door to where boxes of alcohol were stacked high amidst the leftover mess from the recent renovation.

"Polly said the delivery is from last night" y/n said as she eyed the room, "God! This place could use a through cleaning" she remarked, carefully picking her way around the bucket of paint, making sure not to knock it over.

Nodding in agreement, Tommy used his pocket knife and sliced through the top of several boxes, searching their content, "Aye, Arthur said he'll take care of it" he told her, as he cut through more boxes. A couple of minutes later Thomas announced "Found it!" as he held the bottles in his hand.

"Shall we take it all?" Y/n asked and Thomas shrugged, already carrying the heavy box in his arms "Better to have more than less, the night is still young" he said.

Giving him space to walk a head, y/n stepped back, unaware, her foot caught on a lengthy piece of wood making her stumble. Quickly, Thomas reached out to steady her "Careful!" he said, just as they both heard shattering.

The door knob...

Thomas sat the box down and walked over to the door, once he inspected the broken piece he realised that they were trapped,"Damn it" He cursed under his breath.

"I'm sorry Tommy..." y/n quickly apologised but Thomas shook his head "Not your fault sweetheart, fucking Arthur should've taken care of this mess ages ago" he sighed in frustration.

But y/n had other reasons that made her worry, placing a hand on her chest she felt her heart rate pick up, as she struggled to breath in the dusty and poorly ventilated place.

Before her legs give out, y/n reached for an old chair, and Thomas quickly noticed that something wasn't right, "Are you alright?" he asked, concern etched all over his face as he studied her distressed form.

"Just lightheaded" she tried to ressure him but thomas knew it was more than that. He wasn't blind after all...

Thomas had noticed the signs for a while: how she'd struggled to make it out of bed sometime, how shaky she'd be after having a drink of two, the continues dizziness and how her legs failed to carry her at times.

Y/n often blamed it on her cycle, other times she laughed it off, saying she couldn't drink like a Shelby, but Thomas wasn't fooled.

In an instance Thomas was before her, holding her hand in his, "Don't lie to me y/n, no more downplaying this" he said, worry evident in his deep blue eyes "Once we're out of here you're seeing a doctor" he continued but she cut him off, "It's nothing really" y/n insisted, with a weak smile but she knew he saw through her dismissal.

Closing her eyes in an attempt to think through the fog "POTS, It's... It's a disorder... I've had it since I could remember" she explained her condition, but the confusion written on his face told her that she needs to do better than that.

So for the next 10 minutes, she laid it all bare, she told him about the symptoms, the treatments that brought nothing but little relief to her daily pain. The man before her took it all in, his worry increasing with every new piece of information, it all made him feel like his hands were tied.

Running a hand down his face, Thomas couldn't help but feel fear grip him, because for the first time he felt powerless...

It wasn't a simple threat that he could shield her from with his fist or gun, the danger was invisible this time, beyond his ability to see or fight...it came from within her own body.

Noticing the sweat beads on her brows, as the heat rose in the cramped place, Thomas gently wiped it away with his palm. Cupping her face gently he said "Just breath for me, love, I'll get us out of here", Thomas felt like the words were for his own reassurance as much as for her.

On hurried steps, he started tearing through the mess, tossing and throwing anything that isn't useful out of his way, he rammed through the storage until he spotted an old axe, and without thinking twice Thomas graped it and marched towards the door.

Fueled by his fear for y/n, Thomas tore the strong door down to shreds, the wood didn't stand a chance against the relentless blows, until nothing was left of it but the lock dangling from the splinted frame.

"C'mon sweetheart" Thomas said dropping the axe, swiping her into his arms he rushed them towards the pub's back door, where Arthur met them halfway.

"Lovebirds, what took ya so lon-" Arthur started to say cheerfully but the words died on his lips once thomas suddenly snapped at him. "I'll fucking kill ya Arthur!" he shouted through gritted teeth making Arthur recoil in shook.

Seeing Y/n laying almost unconscious in his arms seemed to pour gasoline on Thomas's temper, as worry and fear ate him from the inside, his thoughts raced with different scenarios, each worse than the other.

Taking in the scene Ada quickly followed them with a cup of salted water in her hand, as Thomas swiftly carried the woman in his arms to the private booth. And once Thomas saw Ada hand y/n the cup he gave her a questioning look.

Meeting his gaze Ada saw the rare open concern in her brother's eyes,"She told me not too long ago... She didn't want to burden you", she admitted, answering his unasked question.

With a sigh, Thomas knelt down infront of y/n, noticing how the color started to return to her rosie cheeks brought relief to his worrying heart. Gently, he brushed the strands of hair clinging to her damp forehead and placed a tender kiss there.

"Never think like that again, we're in this together alright?" Thomas said, softly yet firmly "We will face it, just like we do all things" Thomas reassured her, his blue eyes peering into her weary ones before his lips met hers.

Earning a weak nod from her, y/n leaned into his embrace, taking comfort into his arms, she felt safe knowing that facing the challenges of this illness will be much easier with him by her side.

#cillian murphy #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby imagine

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a-nemoiia · 3 months

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I was counting characters instead of words 😭 I feel so stupid

#No wonder the numbers were pretty high #I fixed it #im a fraud #writing

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a-nemoiia · 3 months

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@red-riding-wood I'm beyond flattered! literally I don't know what to say.

That paragraph you just quoted I had to rephrase many times to make it capture his true persona and believes. I wanted to show Jonathan's care and love through his inner thoughts and actions, cause he's not the type to express those foreign emotions through words. I'm glad to see that you liked it.

Thank you so much for your kind words 🫶🏻

「 Crystal blue 」

・Johnatha Crane x Reader・

Summary: At the end of the night, the hard working professor seeks comfort in his sweetheart's arms

Words count: 2.8k

Warnings: None (I apologise in advance for any mistakes)

The clock on the wall showed 02:00 in the morning, it was past midnight when the woman sleeping started to stir as she heard movements outside the bedroom door. With a squeak the closed door opened, and the man still dressed in his work attire stepped inside.

In the dim light, he glanced over at the figure sleeping in the bed. A smile tugged on his lips when he noticed that she wore one of his shirts to sleep, despite his half hearted protests, she still did... and he loved it, he loved it more than he dared to admit even to himself.

On quite feet, as to not disturb her, he set down his mask and glasses on the nightstand and made his way to the bathroom. As always, a shower was needed to wash away the dirt and grim of the night. After all he'd never sleep by his precious girl's side without ridding himself of the remnant of his enemies' fear that clung to his skin.

Stepping away from the hot water, with a towel tied loosely around his waist, he paused infront of the foggy mirror, the tired man recognised the crystal blue eyes staring back at him... her favourite part of him.

The same eyes he once avoided looking at no longer bothered him, because that was before her.

before that day in the library..

"I've never seen eyes quite like yours before!" the girl said, her voice cutting through the silence enveloping the library, distracting him from the book in his hand.

At first he frowned, not sure what to make of this remark, until she smiled "They're fascinating... may I take a photo?" she asked, with her camera in one hand and a popsicle in the other, the girl waited eagerly for his approval, her gaze unwavering, and the cold professor couldn't find it in him to say no.

How would he when she stood there looking like the most beautiful being he had ever seen?

Walking out of the bathroom, Jonathan slowly slipped underneath the covers, joining her in the bed she kept warm in his absence, seeking comfort in her embrace away from the darkness he had to face every night, and she wasted no time nestling herself in his chest.

Inhaling his familiar sent, a sigh of contentment escaped her lips at the feeling of his arms wrapping protectively around her small frame."What was it this time?" she asked, In a drowsy voice, and a smile displayed itself on Jonathan's face before he spoke against her hair, "Musophobia... fear of mice" he answered her, just like he did every night when she asked the same question, curious about the adventures he led as his alter ego 'Scarecrow'.

His soft response elicited a hum of satisfaction from the sleepy girl in his arms,"That's a new one...tomorrow, I'll add it to my journal" she murmured, soothed by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, as sleep started to claim her once again.

For all his intelligence, Jonathan didn't know luck until the day he met her.

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a-nemoiia · 3 months

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「 Crystal blue 」

・Johnatha Crane x Reader・

Summary: At the end of the night, the hard working professor seeks comfort in his sweetheart's arms

Words count: 513

Warnings: None (I apologise in advance for any mistakes)

The same eyes he once avoided looking at no longer bothered him, because that was before her.

before that day in the library..

"I've never seen eyes quite like yours before!" the girl said, her voice cutting through the silence enveloping the library, distracting him from the book in his hand.

How would he when she stood there looking like the most beautiful being he had ever seen?

For all his intelligence, Jonathan didn't know luck until the day he met her.

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane x you #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n #jonathan crane fanfic #jonathan crane imagine #scarecrow #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow x you

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a-nemoiia · 3 months

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The "My boyfriend sleeps like a young victorian child dying of influenza" trend

attention, people! the sleeping beauty has woken up, at last!

#oppenheimer #Cillian Murphy #Pookie looks fine tho

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a-nemoiia · 3 months

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Cillian Murphy in the Washington post live interview today. Ft my thumb 👍 hehe

Alcohol markers and polychromos pencils ❤️

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a-nemoiia · 3 months

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Omg, Thank you! that means so much to me, you're such a lovely person 🥹🫶🏻

「 The old times 」

・Thomas Shelby x Reader・

Note: Can I write? No. Have I ever written anything before? No. But here's to new things. (English isn't my first language so I apologise in advance for any mistake)

Plot: Thomas Shelby finds himself face to face with someone from the past he had left behind long ago

Word count : around 9k

Warnings: None

Thomas's childhood seemed a lifetime ago or so he felt until now, while attending the Epsom race a glimpse of a familiar face stopped Thomas in his tracks. A face he hadn't seen since before the war, the face of the girl who had lived nearby and managed to force her way into little Tommy's life from the first day she stepped a foot in the neighbourhood where he lived, and then proceeded to share with him the long days of his childhood.

That was until Thomas decided to push her away...

Over the years Thomas had grown closer to y/n, closer than he ever intended. He knew what that feeling was, that warmth blossoming in his chest everytime she smiled and it frightened him, just as much as the possible threats of the uncertain future did.

So Thomas decided to take matters into his own hand, making sure to leave what they had behind, while breaking Y/n's heart in the process, he managed to turn the bond they once shared into nothing but a memory.

And as if he was telling fortune, what he feared happened not too long after when young y/n had to move out of Birmingham with her father, vanished without a trace after longing for Tommy's goodbye that never came.

Now here she was again after all these years, as beautiful as the memories of her which his heart still held tight to, making it the only good thing in his bleak world. "Thank you" she thanked the man behind the bar once he poured her drink, y/n took a sip hoping it'd help with the discomfort she felt in this place. she shifted her weight from one leg to the other, clearly overwhelmed by the noises around her but just when she was about to leave she heard the man next to her speak.

Thomas knew he should keep his distance, leaving the past in the past, but something compelled him to approach her, so he found himself walking over to her. He leaned against the bar and looked at the familiar woman, no longer the little girl she once was, with muddy shoes and scrapped kness.

"... It's been a long time...What brings you back after all this time?" the question escaped him. Y/n turned around to face the man standing next to her, she frowned her eyebrows in confusion, before she responded "I'm sorry...Do you know me?" she asked.

When the realization hit Thomas his heart heart sank, she didn't remember him... He took a moment to compose himself, licked his lips and straightened his posture, no longer looking at her, he said "My bad, sweatheart... It seems I mistook you for someone else. My apologies" he lit a cigarette between sentences to calm his troubled thoughts, Thomas couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment, but he managed to hide it well behind the usual cool facade "May I ask what brings you here today?"

"I'm here with my boyfriend, He's got a horse in the race" she answered as she looked about her surroundings in an attempt to avoid the man's heavy gaze on her. Thomas raises an eyebrow, intrigued by the mention of the said boyfriend. He leaned against the bar slightly, with a low voice he asked "A horse in the race, you say? Well...What's the name of the horse? Perhaps I've heard of it." the hint of jealousy he felt hiding well behind the curiosity in his tone.

"It's 'Wonder'. what about you... What brings you here? Got a horse in the race yourself?" y/n's gaze finally returned to his steel one, he nodded as he took a drag of his cigarette, "I do 'Grace's Secret', she's a beauty. But I'm afraid my interests goes beyond horses and betting tonight"

Thoughtfully, she repeated the name "Grace's secret...a woman then?Judging by the name." she asked watching a smirk display itself on the gentleman's face" you've got quite the intuition" He turned fully to address the lady next to him "Apologies, I didn't introduce myself properly. My name's Thomas Shelby. But around here, most people just call m-" Thomas took a moment to process y/n's reaction, he noticed a smile tug at her lips, a smile not with surprise, but familiarity the she masked well minutes ago.

Tracing the rim of the empty glass, she looked down ".... Been a long time, Tommy" she finally said, barely above a whisper, as if she's talking to herself more than him, "indeed, 15 years." Thomas added, as if he had counted every night since the day he made the decision for both of them, "15 years..." y/n found herself echoing, feeling the weight of these lost years. They both held gaze for a few seconds, no words came, as if silently grieving their stolen youth, mourning what should've been.

Suddenly, Thomas's gaze flickered behind y/n, making her turn her head to see what caught his attention, there near the stairs stood a blond woman, with her attention fixed on him just like his on her. "excuse me, I have to go" Thomas felt a pang of regret as he watches y/n expression change. He stubbed his cigarette as he hurried towards the he blonde head woman.

Y/n stood there and watched them disappear into the crowd, feeling a twinge of disappointment, she scoffed to herself, thinking about how dared to break her heart years ago just to simply allow someone else to fill her place "Bastard..." she whispered under her breath, surprised at how easy it is to reopen old wounds.

With the start of the race, the crowd around her thinned, y/n inhaled a deep breath and took a seat at on of the tables, not sure of what she's waiting for, or whom she's waiting for, lost in her thoughts she failed to notice the blond head taking a seat opposite from her until she spoke "Betting or participating?" the blond lady asked, her gaze fixed a head "neither" y/n answered briefly.

Silence stretched before she spoke again. "My name's Grace, by the way. I couldn't help but notice you earlier with Thomas" she turned her head, and her blue eyes landed on y/n. "so you're Grace huh?" y/n ask her, already aware of the answer "heard of me? Weird how Tommy never mentioned you" Grace said, with a hint of bitterness but y/n held firm "Only today." y/n answered frankly.

Grace pursed her lips and said "Thomas and I share history" She held her chin up as she stated, which made Y/n smirked slightly "History? must have been brief, I don't recall seeing you in Small Heath when I was around." Grace's jaw tensed slightly, her composure wavering "And neither were you when I knew him." she bit back, before she threw her last card "I'm carrying his child... He knows"

Her words felt like a splash of cold water, y/n felt the sharp pang of pain make it's way between her ribbs, but she remained composed, as her eyes drifted to Grace's hand resting on the table, y/n titled her head to the side as she spoke "I don't recall seeing one on Tommy's hand" referring to the ways wedding band on Grace's finger.

Startled, Grace quickly withdrawed her hands from view. As if it'll make her unsee it "He told me to wait for hi-" she began, but y/n cut her off "Tommy does love to keep people waiting, doesn't he?" y/n's gaze wandered around at the sight of the crowd leaving, announcing the end of the event. "Not me. Not when there's love." Grace spoke again, getting y/n's attention once more.

Letting out a quite sigh, y/n drifted her gaze to the worker writing down the race results on the board "Did you know Tommy could always spot a losing horse? That Rom blood in him..." y/n remarked. Just then, results were displayed in full view, as Grace's Secret placed third. Y/n's eyes met Grace's one last time. "I think luck might have abandoned the Irish today." With that, y/n held her purse and took her leave.

With hurried steps, y/n headed towards the gates, making her way out, eager to leave this place, but a tug on her arm halted her steps. "Y/n, wait!..." Thomas called for her "... Let's go talk somewhere, eh? Just you and I" he said, his blue eyes searching hers for approval, but y/n's were on the blonde women still seated where she left her, waiting just like he told her to.

looking back into Thomas's eyes, y/n pointed out "Always fond of keeping others waiting Tommy", Tommy's gaze shifted between the two of them, before his gaze settled on y/n "The worst already happened that night 15 years ago y/n..." His said, his voice heavy with regret.

Y/n fought with herself, her heart unable to deny the longing it felt to the man standing right before her eyes, feelings for him buried deep but never gone, she sighed "That was too long ago. things changed" but Thomas couldn't disagree less.

Shaking his head, Thomas took a step towards her, closing the distant, he softly spoke "No, no, not this, this never changed", Y/n looked up into his blue eyes, noticing how the ghost of a gentle smile tugged at his lips, before he whispered “How about we both keep them waiting this time? Come with me to Polly's house... just the both of us, like old times, eh?”

The shared memory from their old lifes and the simpler days, brought a smile to her lips. She found herself gently nodding "Just like old times, Tommy" she echod softly...

Taking his offered arm, they walked back to the house that once held them both, retracing their scattered memories across the familiar streets of small heath.

All kinds of criticism and advice are welcomed. I'm literally a lost puppy 🫶🏻

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a-nemoiia · 3 months

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「 Purr-fect Companion 」

・Robert Fischer x Reader・

Plot: "In a twist of fate, Robert finds himself a new friend, which leads to an unexpected encounter. "

Word count: 1.3k

Warning: None (English isn't my first language so I apologise in advance for any mistakes)

The sound of rustling sheets could be heard all over the tiny apartment, of course the heir of Fischer Morrow, a man of wealth and privilege found no comfort sleeping on these cheap sheets, and scratchy linens.

The poor bed squeaked under his shifting form, trying to get comfortable in such a small bed was almost impossible 'How could people sleep in these?' he wondered. After all, Robert knew nothing but mansions and luxury hotels his whole life... That was until a few days ago.

luck wasn't on Robert's side, dark clouds gathered in the now green sky, no longer clear as the heavy rain started to fall, following the angry storm.

Robert stood in the airport, watching, as all departures got postponed, indeed, no airplanes would be willing to take off in such harsh weather.

No hotel room reservations were made in advance, since Robert had planned to travel back home on the same day once he was done with his buissness meeting, and to his surprise, every hotel and motel in the small town was completely booked.

With no place left to stay, the conflicted man had no choice but to accept the offer of the nice elderly lady who took pity on him. Feeling bad for him, she gave him the key to her daughter's spare apartment, "You can stay as long as you need", she said, kindly.

It's been 3 days now, the storm was getting fiercer by the hour, but at least Robert wasn't alone...

The restless man felt a little paw batting at his hair "stop that" he murmured, and the little furry creature meowed as if protesting.

With a loud sigh Robert pulled himself upright, leaning his back against the old bed's wooden headboard, he looked at the little cat now curled in his lap, probably seeking warmth or attention... Or maybe both.

"OPEN THE DOOR!" , A voice yelled from outside, banging loudly on the apartment door, which startled Robert "I can hear him in there! open up!!" the angry voice demanded.

Quickly, The confused man hurried towards the door, and with a twist of the knob, he opened it to find a woman standing there, her palm still up in the air as if to continue banging on the door.

With anger drawn all over her features, before he could speak, she shoved him a side and stormed into his small apartment "Mimi!" she called out loud.

Robert was taken back by her audacity "Hey! What do you think you're doing?" he asked, stunned by her bold behaviour, he looked at her as she made her way to the little living room.

At the sound of the familiar name, the little cat padded into the room, purring and meowing upon seeing the woman standing there. Scooping him into her arms "Oh my little baby, did that bad man kidnap you?" she cooed, as if the little animal could answer her.

Her words stung Robert's bride, and he found himself quickly closing the apartment door and rushing to stand before her, "I didn't kidnap him, I found him near the park by the building" he stated firmly.

"liar!" the woman said, glaring back into his eyes with her angry ones, she continued "He wasn't lost, he went out to do his business"

Robert rolled his eyes "Well, how was I supposed to know that?" he retorted. "He has a collar with my number, why didn't you reach out?", the woman said, not backing down.

The man with blue eyes opened his mouth then closed it again, "I... I didn't think about it alright?", of course that was a lie.

The truth is Robert had seen the collar...

That night when he found the little guy sitting in the park he could tell from the collar that he belonged to someone nearby, after he took him to his apartment he noticed the tag in the dim light, Robert was about to reach for the owner... but then a selfish thought stopped him.

Loneliness wasn't something new to Robert, he was always lonely, no matter how many people were around him, but that rainy night it felt heavier than usual.

"Wanna stay?" he asked his new little friend, 'Just one night' Robert told himself. but everytime he pulled out his cellphone to call the number on the collar, his new companion would weave between his ankles, seeking attention, or crawl into his lap for a nap, the cat seemed to be asking him to stay a while longer... To him at least.

Robert found warmth in the cat's company, so he kept postponing the call, and that's why there's now an angry women standing before him in fluffy slippers, as she cuddled the cat to her chest.

The woman scoffed "That's a dumb excuse" she remaked. Robert, offended, replied sharply "No it's not! And What kind of name is even that? "Mimi"? For a male cat? "

With a gasp, the young lady gently put the cat down and raised her finger in the man's face "How dare you?? it fits him perfectly, Mr..." she paused, when she realised she didn't even know that man's name.

"Robert" he said, finishing her sentence for her. "Well Robert, neither Mimi nor I appreciate your feedback and we will be leaving now"

Something suddenly made Robert panic, "No!" he said, a little louder than he intended. Why was he so upset? Perhaps because for the first time in days he had someone to talk to? Perhaps because she was so pretty he wanted to know her name? Was he just upset she was taking his little friend with her or was it something else!

Now both her and the cat were peering back at him, surprised, she waited for an explanation, "Um... It's just... I already bought too much cat food and...treats, might as well let him stay a little longer..." he said, pointing gingerly to the piles he bought without a second thought.

Robert knew he didn't make sense, after all it was her cat, however, what he didn't realise is that the woman standing infront of him could easily see through his attempts to hide the loneliness he felt.

Not once did she witness him leave the apartment or even share a word with the neighbours around. The owner had already told her he wasn't from around her, why else would he steal a cat that wasn't his if not just to keep his company.

She tilted her head as if thinking, and looked into his eyes "Well... there's no good in letting that go to waste..." she could see him trying to hold back the little smile tugging on his lips, his hopeful blue eyes gazing back into hers "... Don't close your door, I'll let him come back" she said before she turned on her heels to leave, missing the smile of relief that broke accross his face.

With her hand on the door knob, she paused at the doorway, taking a second too long as she bit her lip in thought, she then turned around to look at Robert, with blushing cheeks, she spoke again "I too seem to have made too much food, could never measure spaghetti correctly... Care to join me for dinner?" she suggested.

"YES!" Robert answered, a little too eagerly for his liking, which made her bite back a smile, clearing his throat, he responded slower this time. "I mean, yes..yes I'd love to come over for dinner"

"See you in 10 minutes then" the young lady said, twisting the door knob, while holding her cat in the other arm, she opened the door ready to leave until his voice called again. "Wait!" he called over from where he stood, "I didn't get your name"

"I'll tell you over dinner, Robbie" she said, smiling, while making her away to her little apartment across from his.

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