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nevvaraven · 1 year

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At least I’ve got you

Regulus keeps getting surprise visits from a dog?

“Oh for fucks sake- REG! Your stupid dog’s back.”

“How many times do I have to remind you that he’s not mine?”

“Well maybe try reminding him, this is the like the tenth time he’s wandered in here now!”

Regulus peeks his head out of the bathroom to see Barty angrily stuffing the contents of his desk into his book bag, whilst simultaneously sending irritated looks over to the familiar black dog now resting casually on Regulus’ bed.

The dog bares his teeth and growls slightly towards Barty when Regulus finally steps out but the minute he does so, the dog’s head snaps towards him with an excited bark, and any previous aggression vanishes as his tail begins to wag.

“I’m going to the library with Evan, I’ll see you later.” Barty huffs out, practically stomping out the room, “and that thing better be gone when I get back!”

The door slams on his way-out causing Regulus to roll his eyes, and if he didn’t know any better he’d say the dog lets out a little huff of laughter at Barty’s dramatic exit.

“Back again, are we?” Regulus asks approaching the now clearly appeased animal with a soft smile. The familiar creature lets his tongue wag out and smiles widely as Regulus begins stroking his head.

He isn’t quite sure where exactly the dog always come from.

The first time Regulus ever saw him was after one of the less fortunate quidditch games a few weeks ago, they had lost rather pathetically, and he had stayed behind in the changing rooms not wanting to deal with the aftermath of it all.

He remembers it had been a particularly rough day, with not only his mother having sent him a humiliating howler at breakfast about not screwing up at his game but also since it had been Sirius’ birthday. Regulus had refused to even glance in his direction following the silence after the howler had ripped itself to shreds but he knew he was watching him, half the bloody hall was, he just couldn’t bring himself to look back. Too afraid of what would follow, what he would see.

Afraid it would be a stranger.

He knew perfectly well the extent to which he was no longer a part of Sirius’ life, he didn’t need the reminders.

Regulus had been sat in the changing rooms long after everyone else had already left, head in hands and still in his kit when the dog had wandered in, at first he had looked around in confusion wondering where the owner was, but no one had followed the animal in. And when the dog placed its head on his lap, Regulus felt no desire to really go looking.

It was sort of ridiculous but in that moment, Regulus had needed someone, anyone really, to prove to him he wasn’t as alone in this world as he felt. The whole day had felt like one punch after another, and for whatever reason, when the dog looked up at him, it felt like he understood. Like he was telling him it was all going to be ok. He knows logically that can’t be true but, in the moment, he felt some odd form kinship with the dog. And call him crazy but he thinks the dog felt it too. Why else would he keep coming back?

Ever since that day whenever Regulus has had a bad enough day that he can’t hide it in his expression, the dog always somehow shows up and offers him that small amount of comfort that keeps him from feeling like he’s fallen over the edge. It didn’t make sense then and it doesn’t make sense now but for better or worse this dog has managed to keep finding his way back to Regulus when he needs him, and Regulus has undoubtedly grown very attached to him.

He tried hard not to, but these days there aren’t a lot of people he feels comfortable talking to about the things that play on his mind, and something about the dog just makes him feel safe enough to open up in a way he just can’t seem to with anyone else.

“How do you even get in here?” Regulus asks lying down next to him.

The dog responds by placing its head softly on his shoulder.

“I feel like I should have a name for you by now.” Regulus says laying his head against the dog, “never really been quite good at names though,” Regulus murmurs stroking the dog’s head, “how do you feel about.....Noir?”

The dog lets out a huff in response.

“Ok clearly not,” Regulus laughs, the smile dying on his face when the next thought appears, “you know who’s great at names? Sirius.”

The dog’s ears perk up at that, they always seem to whenever he mentions his brother. He had been on Regulus’ mind all day, they had run into each other in the hallway earlier and Sirius had been holding hands with that friend he’s always staring at, Lupin. They looked at each other in a way that friends just don’t. It was so plainly obvious. To all of them it seemed since Sirius had ripped his hand away the second he had spotted Regulus. Regulus had immediately turned in the opposite and despite hearing his brother call for him, he had continued walking.

He knew. Of course he knew. But he wasn’t going to be able to say the right things. He never has. So he’d rather say nothing at all now. It’s easier this way, spilling his heart out to an animal who doesn’t really comprehend anything he says.

It’s not real.

“He used to play this game when we were younger,” Regulus starts as the dog perks up, “where he’d look out the window and make up stories for every person who walked by the street, he’d give them names and backstories and explain why they were out that day, it was all so ridiculous. He used to do it to cheer me up whenever mother got angry.” Regulus feels tears begin to prick in the corners of his eyes as the longing for a person who no longer thinks of him begins to build up in him, “I still do it sometimes, when I go home. I try to think of the kind of stories he’d make up for people but they’re never as good. One time this kid with long hair walked past and I nearly ran outside because I thought it was him,” Regulus laughs through his tears at the absurdity of it. “It wasn’t.”

When he looks back at the dog he’s surprised to see there are tears in his eyes as well.

“It’s ok,” Regulus whispers, stroking him again in what he hopes is a comforting motion, “I actually saw him today.”

The dog raises his head from his shoulder to look down at him, eyes unblinking.

“I think he’s happy. He looked happy.” Regulus admits, the dog looks away from him for the first time and gazes towards the window, “I didn’t know what to say to him, I know he must’ve been scared not knowing what I was thinking, but I’ve never known what to do with his fear. Which is a shame since he always knew exactly what to do with mine.”

The dog looks back at him then, he almost looks sad.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get to tell him, but I’m glad he’s happy. Even if I don’t get to be a part of any of it.” Regulus whispers, “one of us should be.”

The dog whines and for a moment Regulus thinks he’s crying. The sight of it for some reason is too much for Regulus to handle.

“I think you should get going buddy,” Regulus says wiping at his own and sitting up, “Barty and Evan will be back soon, and I don’t think they’ll be as happy to see you as I am.”

The dog sniffles and crawls into his lap, his front paws come all the way up to Regulus’ shoulders and he leans his head against Regulus’ chest. There’s only one person Regulus has ever accepted a hug from and as he sits there in his room holding on to the small creature that can’t possibly understand the comfort he provides him, Regulus wishes not for the first time, that his brother was here.

“It’s ok,” Regulus whispers into the dog’s fur, “at least I’ve got you.”

#microfic #regulus black #Sirius Black #black brothers #i needed a distraction #here it is

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denimbex1986 · 5 months

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'“The Giggle” has been. The outcome: Ncuti Gatwa IS the Doctor! AND David Tennant IS ALSO the Doctor!

Well, people said they wanted a multi-Doctor story, I guess.

So what’s happened, what does it mean, and will anyone ever get to read the original version of this article that I wrote in an extremely broad German accent?

In the final act of 60th anniversary special “The Giggle”, David Tennant’s Fourteenth Doctor was shot with a massive laser by The Toymaker (Neil Patrick Harris) and started to regenerate. However, the regeneration energy disappeared, and the Doctor asked his friends to pull. The Fifteenth Doctor (Ncuti Gatwa) emerged as a new incarnation, leaving the Fourteenth alive and well and slightly confused. This is a ‘bigeneration’.

What the Flip Is a Bigeneration?

It’s apparently a Time Lord myth, and like many good Time Lord myths we’ve never heard of it before. It is essentially a regeneration where the old and new incarnation both survive to interact, the old one gets to grow old and – potentially – regenerate into the new one at a later date? Not 100% sure on that last bit, but it can be inferred from 15’s saying to 14 “I’m fine because you fix yourself”.

Showrunner Russell T Davies has suggested, in the commentary for this episode (available to stream on BBC iPlayer in the UK) that this concept might have spread throughout the history of the show, explaining fan theories such as the one surrounding Season 6B (the idea of 6B being that, after Patrick Troughton’s Second Doctor disappears into the void in “The War Games”, he doesn’t immediately regenerate into the Third, and ends up being used as an unofficial operative for shadowy Time Lord affairs – I know, imagine!). To be clear: this is not something Davies has confirmed for the future of the show, but it was mentioned as a possible way to have previous actors return to the role.

Is There a Precedent For This or What?

Absolutely not, no. However, there wasn’t a precedent for the first regeneration in 1966, which was a workaround prompted by the ill health of First Doctor actor William Hartnell, and fans eventually managed to cope with that one.

Two Doctors: No Peril?

Well, there wasn’t a huge amount of peril before, was there? Previously, the Doctor regenerated and we said goodbye to the old incarnation (barring multi-Doctor specials) and hello to the new. That’s still the case, really, so the actual threat level is pretty similar: we always know when a regeneration is coming so it’s not a huge surprise. The difference is that the previous incarnation is still cutting about somewhere.

What Does It All Mean for the Whoniverse?

Ah, I see you’ve adopted the official branding. Well, we don’t know the full ramifications yet. We don’t know if Ncuti Gatwa’s Fifteenth Doctor will regenerate or bigenerate. We don’t know if David Tennant is on speed dial for future series finales. What we know is there is potential here, and if we’re honest it could go either way.

Bigeneration felt like a farewell to Doctor Who (2005 – 2023). It needed a rest. The Fourteenth Doctor looked like an older Tenth Doctor, who brought down a government by saying “Don’t you think she looks tired?” in his first episode. Doctor Who (2023 – ) is still the Doctor Who that started in 1963 and restarted in 2005 (with a delightful barrage of references to demonstrate that), but it’s also a new start.

It’s quite a symbolic gesture to mark a significant change, which is a bold move given that the one thing Doctor Who fans cope with worse than change is symbolism.

The positives are the sense of closure it can give to the previous incarnation, who gets to hear the new one say “Don’t worry, I’ve got this”. There’s a support system in place, a reduction in post-regenerative trauma. The previous incarnations get to play their age in scenes like Tales from the TARDIS. There’s increased potential for stories. Also, if apparently set-in-stone aspects of the series can be challenged – and with the Time Lords currently dead again – who knows what that means for history?

But Does It Undermine Ncuti Gatwa’s Doctor?

Maybe. The worry is that – while the intention is for fans to fill in the deliberate (Curator-sized) gaps – the presence of past incarnations can loom over the current Doctor.

You remember the pressure on Matt Smith when he took over from David Tennant? That was without the in-story possibility of Tennant turning up again. Ncuti Gatwa is clearly positioned as a new start and the future in “The Giggle”, and the hope is clearly that the show will move forward and not have to look over its shoulder.

The expanded universe spin-off series that are expected to arrive will also provide a training ground for potential future showrunners. There’s clearly a plan in place to ensure that Doctor Who is a long-term concern.

However, we’ve just had the return of David Tennant and Catherine Tate as the Doctor and Donna. These characters are still around. We know that ‘Mad Aunty Mel’ (the returning Bonnie Langford, reprising her role as Mel after her brief two-series tenure as companion in the late Eighties) is back in Ncuti Gatwa’s first series, and surely the Fourteenth Doctor and Donna will be asked about.

Essentially we’re in new territory here, and at the start of something. Unlike “The Timeless Child”, which came in midway through Chris Chibnall’s time as showrunner, we know Ncuti Gatwa has at least two series to go and explore these ideas (as opposed to Chibnall having one COVID-abridged series in which to wrap everything up).

The gamble is whether or not folk will accept Gatwa as the Doctor to the extent that the past is remembered fondly and warmly but still very much considered The Past. The worry is, having brought Tennant and Tate back for these three specials and allowing them to be both nostalgia and a foundation, the audience that is brought with them pines for them in their absence. The new cast is haunted by the spectre of the old. Ncuti Gatwa’s era is hobbled by its opening gambit.

Or, alternatively, we might never hear about bigeneration ever again.

So There Might Be Absolutely Nothing to Worry About?

In the context of Doctor Who, ja.'

#Doctor Who #The Giggle #60th Anniversary #David Tennant #Ncuti Gatwa #Bi-generation #Neil Patrick Harris #Matt Smith #The Toymaker #William Hartnell #Russell T. Davies #BBC iPlayer #Patrick Troughton #Melanie Bush #Bonnie Langford #The Timeless Child #Chris Chibnall #Catherine Tate #Donna Noble

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hermitdrabbles56 · 1 year

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Caffeine Shots

No beta no read over no nothing here we fucking go. Hyrule after downing WAY to much fucking caffeine because you can not convince me that stamina elixirs aren't just artificial expresso shots. Or a monster mixed with a five hour energy

@whatcouldpossiblyg0wr0ng

Warriors world officially sucked worse than his own. Apparently since their last visit a rip in time had grown unstable and split into his Hyrule. Again. In fact it was through that rip that they'd gotten there! From Hyrules world! The event leaving half of his castle town displaced into a battlefield where further rips had monsters from his world spilling out like a rapidly drowning boat.

So here he was. 3am. Desperately trying to help the nurses hold soldiers together that had ran into battle with no plan in an attempt to get ahead of things.

He'd been using his magic since noon and very barely managing to keep on his feet with the magic potions Legend had been trying to keep in stock. The veteran in question currently unconscious after having drained his own magic supply taking out a mob that had tried to attack the base a couple hours ago.

Four was down, the fall through time having been like a portal jump from hell leaving him disoriented enough he can't string a sentence together. So he was actually curled up with Legend. And the others were all out still fighting.

Even if he wanted to, he couldn't sleep. He wants to be here for them when they get back..he needs to know if they're okay.

Letting out a heavy sigh he reaches a shaky hand into his pouch and pulls out yet another stamina elixir from Wild. Popping the cork and slamming it down all in one go.

With the barest hints of sunlight comes another round of potions. He can't even taste the nasty alchemical solutions anymore after having so many. And his stomach feels like he drank lizalfo acid, but that doesn't matter. As the dawn also brings the Fierce Deity carrying an unconscious Warrior's and a very out of sorts Wind. Quickly followed by Wild who frantically looks like he blew himself up a couple dozen times.

So he slams an extra magic potion for good measure before rushing over to them.

By noon there's a buzzing sensation washing over his skin. It's too hot in the tent with all the injured bodies, it's too hot outside because of the summer sun. So he spends three hours in a fitful sleep that's more akin to him forcefully holding his eyes closed before he gives up. Dragging himself back onto his feet and over to where Wild had been brewing potions since returning to base.

The champion is gone now. And it looks like Legend is on his feet and gone. So it's just the captain and the sailor curled up with four in the nest of bedrolls and pillows they'd built in the corner of the tent. Warrior's looks like he still needs healing. So, Hyrule grabs up a couple red potions and uncorks another stamina elixir before heading over to do just that.

A couple hours later and Warrior's has gone back out too fight. Wind is looking after Four who is slowly starting to comprehend things again. And Hyrule has no idea how long he's been staring at the two trying to put together one of Legends puzzles before a gentle hand is placed on his back.

Just one of the nurses, he couldn't tell you who given that everyone is kind of blurring together. And maybe swimming a bit. But who ever it is places a hot cup of something warm and bitter in his hand. Pointing off to the back of one of the tent to let him know there's more if needed.

Takes him a moment to realize it's coffee. Straight black coffee, so hot that it almost burns. Or maybe it does. Either way it's sharp enough to cut through the groggy fog in his head. So he has a couple more and somewhat manages to choke down some bread.

One more hour, and that buzz won't stop. It's maybe gotten worse. And he's maybe on his tenth cup of coffee. And he maybe can't remember which way is north. Or were the exit is.

For once he's thankful for having an iron stomach because otherwise he's fairly certain the burning roil in it would have made someone else throw up. But the time to dwell on that ends when Twilight comes in with an unconscious Time hoisted up onto his back. And Sky passed out on Epona.

So, for a quick moment he sets down his half empty coffee mug. Uncorks and dumps the next round of potions into it. Then chugs the whole thing before stumbling off to help.

Thankfully it wasn't anything serious. Or was it serious? He can't remember because everyone looks too fucked up at the moment.

"-Link?"

Something touches his shoulder. Just a light careful little touch but it startles a yelp out of him. His head snapping up so quickly the world spins on its access and oh, he's falling.

No wait.

He's not falling?

Two big arms catch him. Least he thinks they do, he can't tell. That buzzing makes it really hard to feel.

"Woah woah…easy there traveler." Twilight murmurs as he carefully sets Hyrule back on his feet. "You okay? You're shaking like a leaf."

A small nervous sounding laugh comes rattling out of Hyrule before he can even attempt to think. "Hehe I think my heart just stopped? Oh hey..when did it get dark?"

"YOU THINK WHAT?!"

"Chillio dog boy it's fine."

"The fuck it ain't." Twilight huffs before insistently places strong fingers against the vein on Hyrules wrist. "Oh- sweet mother of Faron..that's…that's not normal."

"Normal? You really think my death would be fucking normal?"

"Your heart didn't stop, you're not dying….least not yet. But this certainly explains why I thought I was hearing it from ten feet away. It's racing faster than a hummingbird."

"Mmm f-fairies works really similrat to humming hits hits h..ummin birbs it's berry hard for us to sit sit still."

For a moment Hyrule stops to try and process what just left his mouth. Shaking his head a bit to try and clear it. Which must have been a bad ideas see as he definitely wakes up on the ground this time. Night sky spiraling above him.

"Deep breaths buddy..you're okay…" Twilight murmurs again as he leans into view.

Smacking his lips a bit Hyrule blinks slightly. "My mouth feels fummy…."

"Yeahh…yeah you just threw up. Like a lot. What the fuck have you been drinking?"

"Things!"

Twilight levels him with his best impression of the stare. "What things?"

"Uhhhhhhhh…last thing was a coffee with two stamina ichsers..and…gren….it's was all very gren…"

"Dins tits no fucking wonder. How many of those have you had??" Twilight questions.

Hyrule stares at his hands and he swears has a few more that usual. All the extra fingers making it a little difficult to count.

"Mmn…a number?"

"How long have you been awake..?"

"When the fuck did we get here?"

"Okay….let's..let's get you some water and make sure you don't have a fucking heart attack." Twilight says with a stressed whine as he carefully scoops the shaking fairy boy up.

"Nuuu!!! I need to…what the fuck was I doing…?"

"You've been staring into space for the past two hours what you need is to be knocked unconscious."

"Fuck."

#hermit writes #lu hyrule #lu twilight #everyone's fucked but this is mainly about hyrule and his caffine addiction #absolutely nothing about this is medically accurate #fairy!hyrule #linked universe #i couldnt think of anyway to do this related to the update #i wsnted sheer crack so i created the worst situation possible instead

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negative-speedforce · 1 month

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OC Questions for... hmm, Director Hawke and Onnie

🌲🍂🌷🥀🌼🌻

🌲 What is the kindest thing your OC has ever done for someone? What is the kindest thing someone has ever done for them? On the flip side, what is the worst thing your OC has done to another person?

Hawke: Honestly "Nice" isn't really Hawke's thing, so I'd probably say her taking Cassandra under her wing and training her in magics that normally wouldn't be available to a witch of her age, though this was due to an ulterior motive, since Cassandra was one of the most gifted witches of her generation and would be a worthy asset. In exchange for her mentorship, Cassandra tried to offer Hawke mercy when they fought, but Hawke tried to backstab Cassandra, forcing her to kill her. It's kinda impossible to judge the worst thing Hawke's done, since she's the head of a human trafficking ring.

Onnie: Before gaining her powers, Onnie was pretty normal. While they were aware from childhood of Eobard's identity and didn't share that with anyone, despite the fact that no one knowing put more people at risk, they never really did anything "bad" until their soul was bound to the Negative Speed Force. Probably the kindest thing that they've done (and the kindest thing done to them) are her and Pippa's repeated attempts to save each other's lives. The worst thing Onnie's ever done (on purpose) was kill an entire rival crime family, even the children.

🍂 How does your OC think they will die? Does death scare them? Is there any reason for this?

Hawke: She expects to die of old age, surrounded by people who love and adore her for what she's done. She thinks she's doing a service to witches everywhere by attempting to exterminate metahumans, even though if one were to check the DNA of a witch against that of a meta with similar powers (like maybe Cassandra vs Nikoletta?) they'd be grossly indistinguishable. She's kinda crazy, okay?

Onnie: She's not entirely sure how she'll die, but all they know is that it's going to be graphic and violent. Is Eobard going to kill her for fucking up one too many times, so he can make the tenth version of her? Are they going to get in too deep on a mission? Is Pippa going to get fed up with them, and rip their heart out from their chest? They have no idea, but they're really not looking forward to it.

🌷 What does your OC hate about themself? What lies about themself do they believe? On the flip side, What does your OC love about themself?

Hawke: Thinks of herself as a terrible mother- but not because she killed her daughter. She hates that she didn't indoctrinate her daughter well enough, and that her daughter coming home with a metahuman partner was her greatest moral failing. However, Hawke is extremely proud of how well she's managed to stick to her beliefs, no matter how hated they are.

Onnie: Despite their raging god complex, Onnie low-key kinda hates her powers. She didn't really choose to become Celerity, after all, they were pressured into that role by Eobard. Also, their powers are very difficult to control, since they were artificially awakened, rather than allowing her to grow into them naturally. On the flip side, Onnie loves how much fear and respect she strikes into people. They enjoy being seen as a threat, and they will do anything to stay on top.

🥀 What is something your OC blames themself for and is it really their fault? Does it keep them up at night and is there any lingering trauma?

Hawke: Blames herself for her daughter falling in love with a metahuman. While her daughter and her parter's subsequent murders were Hawke's fault, her daughter's choice of partner was not.

Onnie: Jay's death is something that haunts Onnie to this day. It wasn't her fault, really, it was that he was pushing her, and her powers were out of control. Because of that, Onnie has difficulty connecting with other people, other than the raging god complex, that is.

🌼 Describe one of your OC’s worst nightmares.

Hawke: A world where metahumans and witches have bred together so much that the witch bloodlines mean nothing anymore (spoiler alert: this probably isn't going to happen, and if it does, it'll probably take MULTIPLE centuries. Witches are very proud and clannish.)

Onnie: A trauma-induced nightmare that involves a repeat of that one time where Eobard knocked Onnie out, cut out their vocal cords, and wired their jaw shut for trying to plan to usurp him as head of the family's estate and business. Losing her ability to communicate until her body regenerated and Eobard decided to allow her to speak again was one of the most terrifying experiences of their life and they would prefer not to repeat it.

🌻 What advice would your OC give to their younger self? What advice does your OC need now?

Hawke: "Let your daughter love. Even if it isn't who you'd personally like her to be with, it's not your choice to control." And her current self would probably need to hear, "Girl what the fuck are you doing? Are you fucking insane? Why are you killing all these innocent people?" Will she listen to that? Probably not. But does she need to hear it regardless? Yep.

Onnie: "Don't listen to Eobard, your powers will come naturally, and they'll be a lot easier to control than if you'd been violently forced into it." for Onnie's younger self. Their current self needs to hear, "Sweetie, get the fuck away from Eobard, that man is abusive, manipulative, and controlling. He's just trying to use you for your power."

#director hawke #director lydia hawke #onnie thawne #ask revan #oc shit #practically-an-x-man

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formercreepypastakid · 1 year

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Musicduo AU

Tags: Found family, fluff

Summary: Wilbur is a traveling musician, one day he meets a little girl that plays the flute.

Wilbur has been a traveling musician for years now. For a long time now it had been him, his caravan, and his guitar. He doesn't need much more.

Until one night. He had his caravan just outside a village and as he was getting ready to sleep, he heard a noise outside and he went out to investigate.

What he found surprised him; a little girl trying to steal some berries from the basket he had forgotten outside. She froze when she saw him, like a little racoon that was caught. Wilbur only laughed.

"Those won't keep you full for long. Come, sit down and i'll make you something"

She does sit down, and Wilbur manages to get some information about her.

She’s running from her orphanage, he can only imagine why, but apparently she has been playing the flute in exchange for a few coins and getting by with that.

Wilbur would find it amusing if it weren't so sad, so instead of asking for more information, he asks her to play for him. "In exchange, I'll give you a ride to the next town, what do you say?"

She plays a cute tune for him, and he lets her stay the night, fed and warm.

The next morning, she sits next to him as he guides the horse, and Wilbur asks for her name.

"I don't have one."

"Not even an artistic name? You need one of those to be a musician." He says with a lighthearted tone, but his heart clenches.

She looks at him almost embarrassed. "Would you help me pick one?"

Wilbur hums in thought. His hums turn into a tune and he gasps with an Idea. "How about Tallulah? It sounds like singing." He says, she laughs.

"Alright. Tallulah is my stage name!"

When they arrive in the nex town. Wilbur suggests they play a duet in exchange for another ride. She, again, accepts.

In the next town he proposes the same deal

With the extra money they get, he buys her a sweater, saying that an artist always has to look nice so she can't keep using old thorn clothes.

The third city they visit together, almost a week later, Wilbur says "We might as well stick together and be a duet!"

Tallulah doesn't protest. They play together in every town, and during the night they play together around the campfire.

On the fourth town Wilbur suggests they stay at an inn for a few days instead of the caravan.

When they get back to the caravan Tallulah finds two beds on it instead of a bed and a cot.

On the fifth town, a month after they met, Wilbur buys her a red beanie. "Winter is near, you should stay warm." Tallulah thinks it might be because she can't play if she’s sick.

Wilbur thinks he can't even stand the thought of her being ill.

In the tenth town, nine months after they met, Wilbur sings Tallulah a song as he brushes her hair.

One year after they meet, Tallulah slips up and calls him dad for the first time.

One year and 2 months after they met, they are Wilbur and Tallulah Soot, the famous father-daughter duo of the northern land!

Tallulah had been a traveling musician for years now. Ever since she can remember it was her, her father and their caravan. She doesn't need much more.

#qsmp eggs #qsmpblr #qsmp wilbur #qsmp tallulah #qsmp au #qsmp egg #i cant believe im writing about an egg #found family

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inxumerable · 9 months

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|Okay! So multi muse blog is officially up and ready(ish!)

CURRENTLY UNDER CONSTRUCTION

Under the cut is the current muse list:

Prodigal Son:

Malcolm Bright (;Brightish;): FC Tom Payne,Canon plot-Malcolm is the son of famous serial killer known as the surgeon and works as a special consultant with NYPD. Due to his history Malcolm suffers from severe PTSD and commonly experiences tremors. He also some sociopathic tendancies.

(;LikeSurgeon;) In this verse Malcolm takes after his father, inheriting the traits that canon Malcolm feared having. The surgeon was never turned in and Malcolm learned the tools of his trade.

Martin Whitly (;surgeon;): The father to Malcolm Bright, A serial killer known as the Surgeon, who is currently locked up in the Claremont psychiatric hospital. (or other plotting him can put him after he succeeds in escaping (or prior to being brought in.)

Doctor Who:

Victorian-Clara Oswald (;Victorian;): FC Jenna Coleman, Clara is barmaid in Victorian london, who also double as a governess when she meets the Doctor. In this AU she doesn’t fall and travels with the Doctor. Other AU’s can include her having adventures with Vastra’s gang, modern day AU’s, or anything we want to plot.

Jack Harkness (;harkness;): FC John Barrowman, Jack is still doing jack, aka always looking for the doctor and/or adventures but this jack takes place after losing Ianto.

-Alternative verse (;mirror harkness;) Is set in universe where Jack was a companion to a darker doctor. While he retains much of his personality, he is a bit darker. (Plotting can weed out specifics!)

Mr. Clever (;cyberplanner;): Clever managed to beat the Doctor at chess, and managed to take over completely. Or so he thought. While he did take over control of the body, the Doctor is always there as an extra (annoying) consciousness. He does have the TARDIS, but half the time she doesn’t behave for him.

Amy Pond (;thelegs;): The other half of Amy and Rory! In canon after being sent back she lived her life with life with Rory. Outside of canon? She can be placed anywhere and in anytime. Probably would be pre-angels.

Fob!watched Missy (;Disguisedsleuth;): FC Lara Jean Chorostecki, After being shot by simm!master, She still managed to regenerate and hid her self, becoming tattle-crime writer Freddie Lounds. Even after opening the watch she still tries to be good, hoping the Doctor finds her. Or she can horribly fail and revert to her old ways.

Tenth Doctor (;allons-y;): The main timeline is post end of time where he is fighting of regeneration. But very much not set in stone!

Hannibal:

Freddie Lounds (;crimesleuth;): Freddie Lounds is journalist for tattle-crime, not afraid to push boundaries when she wants something. Most come to believe its for a sense of Justice. But Freddie has a dark secret, too. (AUish)

Hannibal Lecter (;ripper;): Hannibal Lecter, also known as the chesapeake ripper is a therapist who also doubles as a cannibal?? Plot wise he can be anywhere but will primarily placing for surviving the fall if not specified.

Will Graham (;Graham;): In canon (formerly) works as a special consultant for the FBI. Primarily putting him in season 2-3. Can also be post surviving fall.

Baldurs gate 3:

Karlach {;Infernal Engine;): Karlach is tiefling set in the world of baldurs gate 3. She is red skinned and has two horns, however one of her horns is broke off. Her heart? Yeah its engine thats only getting hotter. She served for ten years in avernus, unwillingly a champion to Zariel. Until she escaped, but is she ever really free?

Isobel {;let me be your guide and I'll show you the light | Isobel;}

#|Bli has arrived; ooc|

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fanfiction-artist-prototype · 2 years

Note

Okay the last one " I hold the cards". I might do the tag game as well btw! I'll use it to actually get stuff done on my wips lol

AH I hope you are as productive as possible!!!

ALSO YAY ANOTHER PERSONA 5 ONE! AND IT'S MY FAVOURITE TROPE, TIME TRAVEL!!!

*SPOILERS FOR THE ENDING OF VANILLA PERSONA 5*

Basic concept:

After AkiRen gets released from Juvie he ends up going to Akechi's funeral and all is very sad because star crossed rivals/in another life we might have been friends friends you know?

Anyway, AkiRen took a nap on the way home from the funeral and opens his eyes on the subway the day he meets Akechi. He promptly falls into a panic attack, Ryuji has to come to save the day and Akira does his absolute best to *AVOID* Akechi Goro because if he does he might live (and Shido might get what he deserves) but everything he does ends up with the different Phantom Thieves becoming embroiled or at least meeting Akechi and so Akechi starts to get suspicious because why does this random nobody not want to meet him!?

He eventually comes to the conclusion it must be a celebrity crush, then he meets AkiRen by accident, gets his memories and automatically just goes "You little fucker, you thought you got to just save me and leave me in the dark like I'm not even worthy of consulting on this matter!? YOU BASTARD!"

And then the canon game of cat and mouse starts, but it's worse because now the PT think that AkiRen has a crush on Akechi and that Akechi might have a crush on AkiRen? But AkiRen is doing his best to not get Akechi involved so he might survive and Akechi is trying to actively hunt AkiRen for sport for pissing him off.

snippet:

"Akira? Dude are you okay? You look ready to throw up, eh I'm not good at this whole panicking shit you know, what can I do?"

That wasn't right - after the interrogation everyone had sat down and learnt to deal with these things- Ryuji had brought him down before - why was he pretending like he didn't know now?!

"Akira, just focus on breathing dude, shit what would Ann do!?" He was trying his best not to tremble now, curled in slightly looking to the outside world like a lazy teen falling asleep sat up, but he was furthest from sleep than he could possibly ever be.

Something settled in his chest as he curled up and for a few seconds he became convinced it was the boot of a police officer - or was it the failing punch of a lost comrade- “Joker it’s fine. You’re okay. You’re on the way to school, you’re safe.”

He wasn’t. He wasn’t. He wasn’t - wait.

“Morgana?”

The name came out more of a wheeze and he got a soft pat on the face from a paw in response. That pressure against his chest must have been Morgana pushing his head out of the bag, because his companions face and front paw was out of the bag. Ryuji’s voice didn’t seem as abrasive on his mind anymore, and looking at Morgana curled into himself and with one of his best friends at his sides he let himself relax slightly. It was still difficult to breath, his nerves still felt like they were on fire under his skin but for the most part the vomit was slowly returning to his stomach and his panic was lessening.

“Something happened just now with the metaverse didn’t it Joker?” Even after a year of having the not-cat with him he still found himself being shocked by the amount of inflection he was capable of, but right now it was grounding, “I felt something shift when you nodded off. You felt it too didn’t you?”He was in a uniform. Morgana was talking about the metaverse. Ryuji was on the train with him. FUCK.

“I- what day is it.”

“The tenth of June… you’re going on your social studies trip.”

Okay. He could do this.

It took a lot of fortitude but he managed to force in an even breath, careful to keep his fingers curled against his palm even though they were wrapped around his bag. Later on in the year they’d discovered residue from the metaverse had shifted into their everyday lives and they’d been able to do… things that people shouldn’t be able to do; despite being a wild card his own abilities had been curse related, and he found if he had any form of concentrated malicious will and all five of his fingers touched it the item or person would become imbued with negative energy (or at least that had been how Chihaya had described it) and even if he was over half a year in the past Akira didn’t trust the metaverse and all it’s fuckery not to bring his powers along for the ride as well.

“Are you okay man?” Right. Ryuji. Not exactly his Ryuji because he and his best friend hadn’t been as close this far back into the year (they’d had the closest relationship Akira had had with a person back then in Tokyo and now that Akira knew how things would play out he refused to let Ryuji take any hits he didn’t need to) but it was Ryuji all the same.

And his friend got antsy if he could see someone suffering and couldn’t help.

“Give me a few minutes,” he kept his head down but relaxed his shoulders hopefully that would be enough, “Tell me when it’s our stop and I’ll make sure I’m okay by the time we get to school.”

He hadn’t been good at lying the first time around, growing up as he did lying hadn’t been something he’d needed and at first, as a Phantom Thief it was simply easier to miss out a few details than it was to flat out lie; nearer the end of the year though, when he’d realised Akechi wanted to kill him, he’d gotten used to lying. Now he could apply those skills to here and now and not have to worry about anything falling flat.

Not that he liked lying to Ryuji but there was no way he could - or would for that matter- be explaining that he’d possibly traveled back in time by over six months on the subway of all the places in the world.

The tenth was important as well, because it was when he met Akechi for the first time. In essences it was the beginning of the end, to quote Tallyerand… for goodness sake he was still doing that? He’d picked up the habit from Akechi but he thought he’d dropped it by now. Old habits die hard, or rather refuse to die and become reborn he guessed.

… He’d woken up months in the past and was going to relive meeting a dead man.

wip list link

#persona 5 #persona 5 au #proto au #I hold the Cards AU #gremlin #send me a wip and I'll explain it!#ask game

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out-of-control · 2 years

Text

HOME

words: 936

warnings:

summary: Jim heads north.

Bitter gas station coffee. Black, three sugars. He puts the cup down in its nook, but it doesn't sit straight. He lifts it again, reaching in, and pulls out jangling metal. Two keys, neither of them his. Not anymore.

Turning them over between his fingers, he slips the ring holding the pair together over his index, and something cracks. His arms give away under the weight of the dam he's been shaking to hold up for the past 108 miles, and the tears come all at once. He fists both hands in his hair, slumping over the steering wheel.

This is the hardest drive Jim has ever taken.

—

I-280 heading west, over the Passaic river. Past the Cathedral Basilica of the Sacred Heart, and moving up, for what feels like an eternity, the city staring holes through him in the rearview as his shitty old car pushes itself hard enough for Jim to think he might just never make it out of this place. It finally slips out of view when he crests the hill, horizon opening up to present to what feels like the whole world to him.

I-280 into I-80, Parsippany water tower, over the Delaware water gap- hugging the glittering river below the cliff the road traces. Through the toll, into Pennsylvania, 80 becoming 380 becoming 81 north, the aptly named Endless Mountains, moving onto New York. I-86. NY-17 west. He makes it to Owego before the sun beats him to the finish line. Exit 64. Deep Well Motel, 189 miles from Newark.

—

Jim lies there prone, in the foreign bed, staring blankly at the stucco ceiling for hours with his arms sprawled out at his sides. He can’t sleep. He knew he wouldn’t be able to. He’s exhausted, he’s broken, and he’s spent.

He wonders where he can score in a place like this. He wishes he had the foresight to bring something, whether to numb or send him up the wall or bring him someplace else entirely. He’d take anything from the long list of substances he’s subscribed to in a moment like this. He’s a drug addict lying on his back in an Owego motel room. He stands. He steps out the door.

—

Deep Well Motel to Tioga Cemetery, half a mile. Jim meanders through the headstones, reading every name, every date, calculating how long they had to try and figure it all out. 67 years. 71 years. 13 years. He wonders how many lives they each managed to live. Tioga Cemetery to Susquehanna river, three quarters of a mile, past the Sunrise Motel.

Standing there, staring over the black river, the breast pocket of his army-green jacket chirps at him over the white noise of the water. He doesn’t want to look at it, but he does anyway. Jim reaches in and fishes out his little black phone, flipping it open to look at the number. He stops breathing. His brain short circuits, blank except to take tally of every ring, counting how many second chances it sings at him. How many it taunts him with. Seventh chance. Eighth chance. He knows that he won’t get a tenth. Ninth chance. He answers.

The reception is poor, but he recognizes the voice, even through the slurred diction. “Baby, it’s me, I’m sorry.”

Jim’s lungs kick back in, taking an unsteady breath. His brain still hasn’t caught up, though. A weak “Hey,” is the best he manages.

The voice barely seems to register his response, almost immediately tumbling over itself to say something thick and indistinct.

“Jax,” Jim says, feeling like every particle in his body is about to break its molecular bonds and go spinning off into space. “I can’t hear–”

“Come home,” the voice says, clearer but no less broken. “I love you, please come home. Please come home.” More indistinct noises that Jim now feels with sick certainty are the sounds of a man weeping over the phone.

Jim reflexively holds it out a few inches away from his ear, pressing the back of his other hand against his lips. He can’t help it, the tears he long thought he’d spent well up in his eyes one more time. Even muffled, Jim can hear Jax’s misery over the phone, and he knows that he did this. It’s always his fault with these things. And even in this state, even this far away, Jax has him figured out enough to know everything he does and doesn’t wanna hear at the same time. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out, bringing the phone back.

“Come home,” Jax whispers through a sob. It seems to be all he can say. “Just come home.”

Jim balls a fist in his shirt, against his chest. “Jax, I can’t-” he starts, and his voice cracks. He coughs it out, throat still raw from the crying fits that have plagued him since he told Jax he was leaving in the first place. “Jax I can’t come home because I fucking love you, okay?” he spits out, and instantly shuts the phone. He walks a small curve as he shakes his head and arms out, overtaken by the sudden release from the full-body tension that was strangling him, swallowing him whole. Back towards the water, he grips the cellphone tight until his knuckles turn white. Jim pivots on his heel, whipping his left arm towards the Susquehanna river with everything he has left, collapsing onto his hands and knees in the gravel from the follow-through. His head hangs, looking down at his curled palms pressed hard into the sharp little stones. His fingers stay clasped around the phone.

—

#words

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bard-llama · 2 years

Text

WiP Weds: Saskia and Iorveth

I’ve been writing a lot of stuff lately where Iorveth has to convince others to believe in the Free Pontar Valley - but how did he come to believe in it in the first place?

Iorveth hadn’t known Saskia long, but he was inclined to like her. She was far too trusting, seeing something worthy in someone like him. But he had to admit – her unquestionable and implicit trust in him made him want to live up to it.

That didn’t make the risk she was taking any less insane, trusting a person like him with the truth of who she was. But fuck, if someone could still see something good in him… well, he didn’t want to let her down. He didn’t want to see betrayal replace that sense of trust.

He always anticipated it coming, even now. He was so certain that everything he did would finally open her eyes to what he was and steal her trust from him.

Somehow, it had yet to happen.

It was both good and bad. On the one hand, Saskia’s trust in his ability to be a better person was, perhaps, making him a little better. On the other hand, better wasn’t what his people needed him to be to gain their freedom. And ever since he’d met Saskia, it had gotten more difficult to do the things that he needed to do. After so long, he’d mostly grown numb to the horror and guilt at his monstrous deeds, finding it relatively easy to kill. But now – now it was almost like it had been when he’d first begun fighting, first managed to kill. Not his very first kill – the feeling after that was more intense than the feeling he got now. But perhaps like after his tenth kill. When he’d done it enough to become used to it, but still had enough of a heart to acknowledge the horror of his deeds.

It was an annoying feeling, because there was just enough guilt to make it difficult to act and for fuck’s sake, he’d become a monster for a reason. No matter what he felt, he couldn’t fail in that mission. He would become whatever he needed to be in order to achieve freedom for his people.

That was the vow he’d made on the blood of the thousands of elves who had died in Aelirenn’s Uprising, blood that was spilt while he ran, too cowardly to kill the enemy. He had faltered, and nearly every elf in his generation had paid the price. He owed it to them to do what was necessary for their species to have a future.

“Why do you assume that only heinous deeds can save your species?” Saskia asked softly.

Iorveth stared, uncertain how to answer what seemed like an obvious question to him. His species was actively being wiped out. There were people responsible for that. Of course he had to fight them, to whatever depths that took him. What other option was there?

“You underestimate the power of compassion,” Saskia murmured. “Sometimes kindness is what is needed.”

“Kindness does shit all in a fight,” Iorveth frowned.

“The future may involve fighting,” Saskia said, “but that is not all it must be.”

Iorveth looked at her blankly.

“How can your species rebuild if you’re always fighting?” she asked, picking her words carefully. “You see fighting as the mechanism to getting you to where your species can rebuild. But the fight has been endless, has it not? So what if rebuilding requires something different?”

“Before rebuilding, we have to repopulate. In order to do that, elves have to be able to conceive and carry a baby to term,” Iorveth pointed out tightly. “Which means they have to feel safe. But there is no safety for elves in this world. We have to fight.”

Her lips pursed for a long minute and then she proposed,“what if we could make a place that was safe?”

“What?”

“Elves have great difficulty reproducing because there’s nowhere they can feel safe in the North,” Saskia said slowly. “So let’s make somewhere safe.”

“We’ve been fucking trying,” Iorveth huffed.

“Yes,” she nodded, “through fighting. But that hasn’t worked. So isn’t it time to try another way?”

“What other way?”

Saskia bit her lip, hesitating. “It’s – okay, your instinct is gonna be to say the idea is crazy, but hear me out.”

Iorveth’s eyebrow arched.

“The Northern Kings will never cede land.”

Automatically, he scowled, unwilling to face the truth of her statement. If he just pushed hard enough, then he could make them give in. He had to believe that. Otherwise there was no hope at all for a future for elvenkind.

Saskia licked her lips. “So what if we take it?”

Iorveth blinked. “What, you mean like taking over a city or something?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I mean like… like we make our own realm. One where an elf’s dignity and right to live in peace is assumed.”

“How would we even do that?” Iorveth scoffed. “And where?”

She fidgeted with her hands. “It’s a common joke in the Pontar Valley,” she said slowly, “that all our problems would be solved if we were just independent.”

“Yeah, but that’s a joke,” Iorveth emphasized. “The Northern Kingdoms fight over the Pontar Valley like beggars over a spare coin. Independence isn’t possible.”

“It could be. If the people of the Pontar Valley were willing to fight for it, it could be possible.” Saskia’s eyes blazed with determination. “If we could convince the populace that independence is worth fighting for, then we’d have a chance.”

“‘We’?”

“Oh,” she flushed lightly, clearing her throat. “Well, I mean, obviously it’d mostly be me talking to people, because you’re very, very wanted, but…” she shrugged helplessly. “You’re the one who gave me the idea.”

He blinked. “How did I give you the idea for independence!?”

“When we first met,” she said, “you challenged me to find a better way to make change than your methods, do you remember?”

“Yeah, sure, but you have not been thinking about independence since then.”

“No,” she shook her head. “I thought I could work in the system to make change, thought that I could make Aedirn less racist and more equitable by working within the King’s framework. So I worked my way up the ranks and became a General. I thought I could change things in that position, but the system is designed to be unequal. We can never achieve equality by working within the rules of an unequal system. So… how do we build a new system? People joke about independence all the time – but if we could make it happen, we could make a place that doesn’t start with everyone on unequal ground. We could make a place where everyone has the ability to live their life in peace and happiness.”

There was that ‘we’ again. How had he ended up part of her idealistic plan?

“You can’t just solve inequality by starting over,” Iorveth crossed his arms. “Starting over wouldn’t change the genocide humans actively commit.”

“No,” she agreed. “But starting over could give elves the chance to repopulate.”

He frowned, eyes narrow as he thought about that. It was a ridiculous notion to even entertain… but it wasn’t untrue that he’d been fighting for years and years and years and they’d barely made any gains. Each year, victory seemed further and further out of reach – but what could he do but fight harder? If he could fight hard enough, then maybe, just maybe, he could make up for the way he’d frozen as his friends and classmates and colleagues were cut down. For the way he’d run, failing everyone who had ever trusted him.

“Sometimes compassion is the answer,” Saskia said quietly. “Wouldn’t it be a good thing,” she asked, “if the young elves in your unit had the chance to live without having to fight?”

“Of course. But it isn’t possible, not so long as humanity walks this earth.”

“Do you truly think you can win?” Saskia’s face was soft.

“We have to win,” Iorveth said firmly. There was no other alternative.

“Yes,” Saskia agreed. “But can you win through force? Truly?”

Iorveth was silent. In truth, he’d known for years that the fight was hopeless. Humans multiplied far too quickly while elves only grew fewer in number. But what was he supposed to do? Lay down and let a human kill him? He had to fight.

“You fight for a goal you don’t even believe in,” Saskia murmured. “Wouldn’t it feel better to fight for something that at least has a chance?”

“What chance?” he scoffed. “You think you can create an independent Pontar Valley and build a world where everyone is equal? Yeah right.”

“I think it’s worth trying.” She stared at him for a long moment and then added, “it’s a more likely possibility than the Kings ceding land.”

“Which doesn’t say much.”

“But if you’re going to fight for one of them…” she met his eye, “why not fight for the better one? If it’s hopeless anyway, what’s the harm in giving a potential solution a try?”

Iorveth drummed his fingers against his bow. “Exactly what are you asking for?”

“For you to consider the possibility,” Saskia said. “For you to help me try to build a world where elves can live in peace.”

He said nothing.

“Maybe it’s a longshot,” she continued, “but I bet that between the two of us, we could come up with ideas to make it at least a little less so.”

“I – where would we even start?” he threw his hands in the air, exasperated. She couldn’t really be serious.

Except the glint in her eye said she absolutely was. “With organizing the Pontar Valley around the idea of independence.”

“How!?”

Saskia shrugged, “well, I’ll start by talking to everyone I know, see how they feel about the idea.”

“And if they think it’s batshit?”

“Then we’ll see if I can convince them to believe in the possibility I see.”

“And then?”

“Then we start a movement.”

“Then you start a movement,” he couldn’t help but correct.

She wilted, frowning sadly. “Does that mean you won’t help me?”

Hating to see her so disappointed, Iorveth stuttered out a denial. “I’m not convinced,” he added, “but if you want to try this – sure, I’ll help.” He shrugged. Most likely this would go nowhere, so what harm was there in theorizing?

For months, that’s all it was – just playing with an idea, indulging an alternate reality. Then – then there was a fight with Kaedwen and a soldier got lucky and Iorveth saw the spear a second before it pierced his eye socket.

His men reported that they’d been able to hear the crack when the speartip broke off on his skull, but all he knew was pain, nothingness, and then waking up unable to see out of his right eye.

He would recover, his medic reported. But they’d had to remove the eye and he was more than slightly scared of seeing what was under the bandage.

Five weeks into his recovery, he found himself unusually irritable and restless, and when Kythaela walked into his room, he was already in a sour mood.

“What?” he snapped, sitting up in his infirmary bed.

The excitable young girl was oddly serious as she pursed her lips, looking him over. He couldn’t help the way he tensed under her gaze, more than aware that his beauty was forever ruined. He was sure his medics did what they could – but he was damaged goods now and he knew it.

“Something weird happened on patrol,” she said, making him blink.

“What?”

“I was patrolling near the Aedirnian border,” Ky continued, “and this dh’oine walked into the forest like she owned the place.”

Iorveth scowled. He hated dh’oine like that.

“Naturally, I attacked her.”

“Naturally.”

“But she was really good,” Ky met his gaze, confusion in her eyes. “I couldn’t take her out. And then she says that she doesn’t want to fight.”

Iorveth’s eyebrow arched.

“She wanted to know if you were alive,” Ky said. “Asked for you by name, insisted she just wanted to know if you were all right. Her concern seemed pretty genuine.”

He blinked. Oh. That – that almost sounded like, “she didn’t happen to say her name was Saskia, did she?”

Now Ky was the one with her eyebrows raised high. “You know her?”

“Yeah,” he flushed lightly, oddly stunned that Saskia would care enough to ask after him. “What did you tell her?”

“How do you know a random dh’oine lady!?”

“It’s a long story,” he sighed, rubbing his face. It wasn’t like he could reveal that she wasn’t actually a dh’oine, not when Saskia had trusted him with that knowledge. “She’s an Aedirnian General.”

“That generates even more questions,” Ky huffed. “Why do you even know an Aedirnian General?”

“We met by chance,” he shrugged. It was weird, to think about the idea that if he’d managed to kill his dh’oine prisoner just a few minutes earlier, he never would have met Saskia. If she hadn’t heard the dh’oine’s screams and come to investigate…

He shook his head, ignoring the brief moment of vertigo at the movement. “What did you tell her?” he asked again.

“Well, she seemed genuinely frantic with worry, so I told her you were alive, but didn’t say anything more than that.

He nodded. That was acceptable. As much as they wanted to avoid word about his survival to spread, it was good that Saskia knew. And she wouldn’t tell anyone, he was certain of that.

He trusted her. When had that happened?

“So who is she?” Ky asked. “I mean, you wouldn’t be friendly with just any dh’oine.”

“She’s not like any dh’oine you’ve ever seen,” Iorveth said confidently. She really, really wasn’t – but it wasn’t her reptilian form that made her extraordinary. “She’s – she’s got an idea on how to build a place where elves could be free.”

Ky blinked. “Uh. Okay. How?”

Iorveth licked his lips and explained Saskia’s vision, the vision he thought was foolhardy. Yet he ended up arguing in favor of Saskia’s idea as he tried to convince Ky of what he himself wasn’t even wholly sure of.

The truly crazy thing was: it worked. By the end of their discussion, Ky was frowning thoughtfully, accepting the premise that an independent Pontar Valley could be possible.

“I’ve never been to the Pontar Valley,” she reflected. “What’s it like?”

“Uh. Good? Humid, though,” he grimaced. “Vergen’s pretty nice. I haven’t been there for centuries, but it’s a dwarven town.”

Ky nodded. “It’s where you send the refugees who don’t wanna join up, right?”

“Yeah,” Iorveth said.

It wasn’t uncommon for elves and dwarves living in human settlements to decide they’d had enough. Most who came to the Scoia’tael actually wanted to join – but there were a good number who came because they didn’t know where else to go. Vergen wasn’t a perfect alternative, but as a nonhuman town, humans were the ones who were denied market rights for once.

Sometimes, they sent people to Dol Blathanna, to live in a “truly” elven society. But Dol Blathanna had been created over the blood of Iorveth’s comrades and he would never forgive Enid an Gleanna for her role in handing over the Commanders of the Vrihedd Brigade. So Iorveth preferred not to send refugees into the viper’s nest… but sometimes they wanted to go there, and Dol Blathanna’s borders weren’t that far from Vergen. That was as far as he would help them. If they chose to go the rest of the way to Dol Blathanna, that was their choice and they’d reap the consequences of said choice. But if they chose to stay in Vergen…

Well. It wasn’t the kind of life elves deserved to have, wasn’t anything on the quality of life that was assumed when Iorveth was young. But deferring to dwarves was better than being stomped under humanity’s boots.

Or, if they wanted to live amongst true elves, they could join the Scoia’tael and fight. Most of them chose that, even if they’d never fought before a day in their lives.

Iorveth spent a lot of time training new recruits. Training elves who’d lived as potters and weavers and serving maids how to kill, how to stain their hands as red as his own.

Sometimes, when he was wildly intoxicated, he wanted to rage at the unfairness of life, at the fact that elves didn’t even have the choice to live in peace anymore.

Saskia’s plan could change that. It seemed farfetched and it would definitely take time, but if they genuinely created a new realm where all were equal, then his Scoia’tael could return to the lives stolen from them by humanity’s hatred if they desired.

Theoretically, he could return to the life stolen from him. But he’d had centuries of peaceful living, centuries of not needing to know how to fight. And even when things had started to get less peaceful, he’d clung to the facade of it for a long, long time.

The Slaughter of Loc Muinne had been his breaking point.

By all rights, he should have died in Loc Muinne that night along with all his friends and neighbors. But instead, he’d been peacefully playing music for a mixed human and elven audience in Novigrad while everyone he’d ever known was murdered in their sleep.

Why should he have been the one to survive when so many others deserved it more?

The Slaughter of Loc Muinne had driven him to finally join the fight, to seek out Aelirenn and learn how to kill. Humans had made it quite clear that it didn’t matter how peaceful elves were, humanity wanted them all to die. The only possible response to that was to kill them in return.

But when the fight finally came, Iorveth hadn’t been able to do it. While most of the elves his age fought and died, he had cowered and run.

He would never forgive himself for that.

Even after that, it had taken a life or death situation before he’d actually managed to kill someone. It had been half accidental and half instinctive when his knife had plunged into the attacking dh’oine’s belly, slicing their gut open.

Disembowelment was a terrible way to die. A relatively slow way to die. Iorveth had watched as the dh’oine’s life drained from them, bloody fingers wrapped tightly around his knife still even though the fight was over. Then, as soon as the dh’oine breathed their last, Iorveth had staggered to the side and thrown up.

His second kill had been more intentional, but had shaken him no less. He’d known then that someone who could fight properly for their people should have survived instead of him. But he was all that was left – so maybe he wasn’t what his people deserved, but he could try his damndest to be what they needed.

He’d chosen his descent into monstrousness. He’d owed that much to the memories of all those who had deserved to live more than he did.

So he’d done all he could to stomp down the whimpering coward who threw up at the sight of blood and become what he needed to be in order to ensure that his people had a future.

In a way, it was fitting that his beauty was now ruined. Now he looked as monstrous on the outside as he did on the inside. Now at least no one could mistake him for anything more than what he was.

Except Saskia. Saskia knew some of the things he’d done, but she still looked at him with trust and affection. She still cared enough to ask after him when the world was probably whispering that the great Iorveth had died.

It made something warm flare in his chest and he decided that it was worth risking his medics’ wrath to go see her. His balance was still a little wonky and he had to stop a few times and breath heavily through his nose until a nauseating bout of vertigo passed, but it felt good to get back out into the forest. He’d spent his recovery so far cooped up in the Scoia’tael base – and he knew there was a reason for that, knew that Imadia would probably ream him out the ass later, but it was so, so worth it.

There was a clearing near the base of the Mahakaman Mountains that Saskia liked to go to so that she could spend time in her true form without endangering herself. It was where she had first shown Iorveth the truth of what she was.

Now, the sky was lit up with pinks and oranges as the setting sun’s beams glanced off of the glittering green scales of a dragon. As he approached, he could see her perk up and felt something brush against his mind.

He welcomed it, finding that he’d actually kind of missed connecting with someone this way.

Iorveth! Saskia spoke inside his head, reptilian head drawing close to him. You’re okay!

“Okay is relative,” he said, reaching out to lay his hand on her snout. “But I will survive.”

A puff of hot air passed over him as she sighed in relief. Your Scoia’tael did say you were alive. But… she tilted her head to nudge gently against his chest, you scared me.

Iorveth swallowed hard, amazed again at the fact that this incredible dragon should care at all about him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, stroking over the scales on her eye ridge.

Are you hurt very badly? she asked.

He shifted, uncertain how to answer that. “Just what you can see,” he settled on.

Her confusion was palpable. What am I supposed to be seeing?

The look he gave her was disbelieving.

Dragons see differently than you two-leggeds, she said, half apologetic. I can’t actually see what you look like in this form.

“Wait, seriously?”

I mostly see heat and movement. Her shoulders shrugged in a very odd looking move.

“Oh,” Iorveth said stupidly. “Um. Okay. Well, I – I lost my right eye.” It was the first time he’d actually said the words and they were difficult to get out.

He could feel her concern and it made him all choked up. He wasn’t worthy of such care, especially not now.

Everyone is worthy of care, Saskia said softly. It’s not something you have to earn.

Iorveth scoffed. The entirety of his life had taught him differently.

He didn’t understand why saying that made her so sad, but he instantly wanted to fix it.

All people are worthy of care, she said again. In the world we build, that will be a fundamental tenet.

Not really sure what to say to that. Instead, he asked, “how is it going, building an independence movement in the Pontar Valley?”

Saskia perked up, wings shifting around her as she dove into a retelling of all the organizing she’d been working on for the months since they last saw each other.

I think we’ve got a real chance, she concluded.

Iorveth hummed. He believed her a lot more now than he had before, but– “even if you can mobilize the people of the Pontar Valley, you won’t have enough men to fight off the armies that will come for us.”

Saskia’s massive maw stretched into something like a grin. You said ‘us’.

Iorveth blinked. “So?”

Before you always said ‘you’. ‘The world you’ll build’ or ‘your movement’.

“Oh.” He flushed, feeling oddly vulnerable. “I, uh. Well, you’ll need the men,” he said awkwardly.

I’ll need you, she corrected. You’re right. Untrained as most of the people of the Pontar Valley are, we will need help fighting off the kings that choose to invade.

“I’ve not got that many men,” he cautioned.

That’s okay. We’ll figure it out. She positively exuded satisfaction, clearly pleased that he was committed to this plan now. Thank you for being willing to do this with me.

“Yeah, well…” he coughed, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I, uh – I did actually tell one of my people about it. The one you met, Kythaela.”

Oh? What does she think?

“She thinks it’s got potential.” He chewed on his lip, debating the idea that occurred to him. “I think – I think I need to bring several of my men in on it, actually.”

Yeah? You think they’ll go for it?

“Hmm. I think that if they do, we might be able to figure out how to get more fighters. Or at least how to maximize the fighting force we do have.”

Okay, Saskia agreed. I’d – if it’s all right, I’d like to tell one of my people about you.

“Why?”

We’re close. He’s very grandfatherly towards me. It’s hard to keep stuff from him. And he knows a little, ‘cause I freaked out when I heard what happened to you, but I didn’t give any specifics.

Iorveth thought about it. “Most people aren’t exactly fans of the Scoia’tael, you know. It could hurt your movement.”

Maybe. But in that case, we will need to know that now, when we have time to potentially change people’s minds.

Iorveth’s hum was dubious, but he shrugged. “As long as you don’t tell them how to find us. And if they can keep it to themselves. Eventually we’ll reveal that I survived, but right now, it’s better if everyone thinks I’m dead.”

#saskia #iorveth #the witcher #saskia x iorveth #sorta #it's more gen #wip wednesday

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charlierejouis · 2 years

Text

Quick Notes: Chapter 196-198

I'm two weeks behind! Let's get through this.

Chapter 196

I feel like the idea that the Dark Stars could beat the Shining Stars WHILE BOARDING THE EDENS ZERO is a big oversight.

The old "self-destruct and launch destructive software" trick from over 100 chapters ago. Didn't expect to see this coming.

We know Killer is a villain because, despite everything that he's done up to this point, he doesn't believe robots have hearts.

Hey, they found Rebecca in the Distortion World. (Yes, I've started Platinum recently.)

It's cool to see Shiki and Weisz team up on something. Not sure this has ever happened in the series.

Now that they're back on the colosseum, let's check up on Homura.

Never mind, let's check up on Sister.

I understand Clown's mindset, but yikes.

You guys don't get credit for taking out Witch. I wouldn't even give credit to Ziggy for Witch.

Back from vacation in the Aoi Cosmos, it's my guide to Mashima’s School of Despair:

Instill fear in subject. (Set up battles between EZ Crew and Dark Stars.)

Give them reason for hope. (Shiki beats Wizard relatively easily.)

Make the situation worse. (Clown and Killer win their fights and make their way onto the EZ.)

Leave subject with room for hope. (Hermit seemingly defeats Killer.)

Crush hope like a grape. (All the Shining Stars seem to be taking L's.) [YOU ARE HERE]

Everything ends up alright. (You should already know what happens.)

Chapter 197

Classic villain monologue before they're proven wrong. Can't wait to see how this is proven to be too soon.

I'm not a fan of these "flashbacks to time we could have seen in real-time but we were too busy watching something else go down" moments.

"I call my armor the 'peerless armor'." "How gaudy..." Basically.

This might be a question we ask after this fight: when will Homura consider herself to have surpassed Valkyrie Yuna?

With this fight, I hope we start making the comparison between Erza and Homura more.

I don't care how the ships end up happening. Shiki and Homura is my favorite dynamic in the series, bar none.

Chapter 198

"There's a man who values peace in the cosmos"

Did Hermit manage to make her way to the Etherion Door? That's impressive.

There's that payoff! I wonder if the anime will connect this to the earlier moment if/when this gets animated.

Mashima decided to drink his extra horny juice before making this chapter.

Thank goodness Sister isn't playing into Clown's game of killing his dog.

I'm still worried about Sister's use of training.

"We are the superior successors to you lot." Homura just beat Brigadine, Killer only got Hermit through cheese, and Shiki beat Wizard with a tenth of his power. Quite the upgrades, huh?

"Have a good nightmare." That's a dope line to have here.

"I'm not into this getting-tied-up crap..!! You are, and you know it!" Kink shaming

Honestly, "Shiki came to her rescue" is more of a crew-wide thing at this point, not a Rebecca thing.

Rebecca's nightmare would be watching her friends die. So, basically chapters 82-84.

It's good to know that Mashima still can do body horror when he wants to. Better to know he rarely wants to.

"I even have a legit medical counselor's license. Got it online though." How much does this matter in a universe like EZ?

Sister's final pose looks like she finished an all-out attack. (Can't wait to be able to play Persona 5 on Switch in 2 years!)

Well, I'm caught up. If you want an explanation for why this is how it is, read more! If Quick Notes is all you're here for, then see you!

I've been doing Quick Notes for quite some time. I've done it with very little prep time and while I've been deathly sick. While the past 3 weeks have been pretty busy IRL, my real issue has nothing to do with me. It has to do with Kodansha.

As some of you might know, the SimulPub for seemingly all of Weekly Shonen Magazine has been put on pause. I've heard there are some screwy things happening on different sides involving translators. Whether or not this has anything to do with that is anyone's guess. At any rate, official translations of EZ are on indefinite hiatus.

I've been using the official translations for Quick Notes, even when I did this for Fairy Tail years ago. I've read the fan translations, but I prefer using the version that supports the creator to make this happen. It took me a while to get to the point of deciding to use fan translations. However, with FT Month coming soon, I figured I can use them while we wait for the official translations to come out.

Though, this probably means I don't have an excuse to go do the ones for FT's sequel... joy...

At any rate, see you!

#quicknotes #edens zero #edens zero spoilers #edens zero chapter 196 #edens zero 196 #edens zero chapter 197 #edens zero 197 #edens zero chapter 198 #edens zero 198 #f you kodansha #get your act together #also my favorite team is a joke #they're paying 10 million to a guy who plays against them week 1

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rcksmith · 3 years

Text

Spring breeze — Spencer Reid

Sumarry: Spencer never thought about falling in love with someone, but he certainly didn't expect that he would fall in love with Gideon's daughter. — season 3 —

Part.2 Part.3 Part.4

A/N: I am marathoning Criminal Minds again and I can not express how much I loved the interaction of Gideon and Spencer!! So this idea came as an epiphany, and I love the conception of love at first sight. Maybe this becomes a serie...

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple:Spencer Reid/Gideon's daughter!reader.

Warnings: nothing, just very fluff.

— — — — —

Something was different. Maybe it was the way the sun's rays cascaded down in an atypical way, maybe it was the breeze that carried a more lyrical intonation on its back, or maybe it was just the Earth that was adorned by an ethereal veil. Spencer didn't know how to point out what was really different, but he felt in his soul that something in the hemisphere had changed.

At first, when he took the subway to work, Spencer thought it was just an ephemeral sensation, just like those seconds when you feel the breath of the breeze more cold. But it didn't. The sensation accompanied him to work, to the plane, to the case, it stuck to him like a tattoo and Reid found himself looking around for answers that did not exist physically.

He considered all the theories that were possible to explain that destabilization in his subtly balanced world. But he found none.

“Are you feeling anything different today?” That's what he asked Morgan.

Derek shrugged, finishing packing up at the police station so they could go back to Quantico.

“No.” Then he looked Reid whit his obsidian eyes “Is something bothering you? Is the Genie feeling any peturbation in the Force? ”

Spencer chuckled through his nose at the Star Wars joke, but just shook his head in a 'No'. And the conversation died there. How could he explain something that even he didn't understand?

Trying to ignore the way his heart was beating fast, for no reason, in anticipation of something Spencer himself was unaware of, he wondered how long he was going to have that sensation. The feeling of euphoria, the taste of something, there was something exciting in the air, almost angelic.

But how long was that going to accompany him? One day? One week? Whole life? For the first time, Spencer didn't have the answer. And that was disconcerting.

When BAU's glass doors opened for agents to settle on their desks and Hotch and Gideon go to their respective offeces, a wave of icy breeze from the DC air reverberated through the enclosure. Spencer can see that Morgan shrugged in the wind, Emily looke for a coat in the black suitcase, but his own body didn't seem to be hit by the same breeze. For Reid, it had been a caustic, lyrical, almost spring, wave that carried the promise of something extraordinary on back. Almost divine.

In that split second, in a time as short as a blink, the feeling that his life would never be the same made him losing his breath. Spencer does not know what attracted his gaze to the BAU door, nor what made his whole body turn in that direction, like a magnet, like a wanderer in the desert who finds his Oasis. But he had been attracted, and as soon as a female hand pushed through the glass door and her figure came into view, Spencer understood the extraordinary thing that him heart was beating for in anticipation.

You.

It was as if the universe had been preparing him all day for that moment. As if the body itself tried to prepare it. Because if Spencer hadn't fell those feelings of euphoria all day, he would have drowned in his own reactions to seeing you.

In a burst, like a violin string popping, Reid understood what was different about the hemisphere, because why the air was ethereal, because why the night felt like poetry, and why the moon whispered swears of love. In that moment, Spencer understood the mysteries of the world, unraveled the riddles of life, drank from the wisdom of The Oracle of ancient Greece. In an instant, watching you enter, Spencer understood the reason for his life.

In an instant.

The world shuddered in slow motion, capturing all your movements, all your graceful gait, all your glory. An elegant black dress with thin straps modeled your body in an arcane, almost divine way, your legs were supported on black high heels, making your walk seem like a glide of honey.

You were not beautiful. You are gorgeous. You shone. Sparkled.

And, like an atrocious wave that broke over Reid and pulled him into the sea, that whole feeling that stuck with him all day came to accompany the female figure. Following in your footsteps like the tail of a long dress.

Spencer was sure that his life would never be the same.

They hadn't even sat at their tables when you showed up. Like the muse that came out of an action movie. And when you got close enough to attract the attention of Emily and Morgan, whose Derek opened his mouth when he noticed the female figure that was the personification of Female Fatal, Spencer felt himself letting out the breath he didn't even know he was holding. He knew that anyone with eyes and a little common sense would notice how overwhelmingly beautiful you were, so when Morgan turned his body fully towards you, Reid was not surprised.

“Hi." Your voice, to Reid, had a floral intonation “Do you guys know where I can find Jason?”

When his eyes met yours, Spencer felt his breath being stolen from him once again. Usually, girls like you didn't look twice at guys like him, Spencer knew that. Girls like you liked men like Morgan. Athletes, strong, Alpha Male. And because of that, it was an explosion in Reid's system when you took a few seconds longer in that eye contact and a delightful smile appeared on yours lips. As if you appreciate what you were seeing.

That was a shock. Was it true or was he misinterpreting the signs? Was him mind playing tricks on him, like the flickering shadows of furniture under the darkness and the flame of a candle? Spencer would not be able to say a word without stuttering at that moment even that him life depended on it. In fact, he was already starting to feel cheeks heating up. So he thanked any deities that might exist when Morgan and Emily responded to you and broke the eye contact between the two of you.

“Jason Gideon?” Morgan frowned slightly.

“He's in the office but...” But Emily couldn't finish the sentence before Gideon's voice came out over everyone's:

“Y/n?” It was in a tone that no one there had ever heard in Gideon. A sweet, loving intonation... paternal.

None of the three agents present there had time to express their thoughts in facial expressions before you said:

“Dad!”

Then the whole world took a turn and seemed to be terrified, making them feel as if they had been thrown out of the tenth-floor window. This time, Reid's eyes widened at the two friends, who also had puzzled expressions. Everyone knew that Gideon had a past, probably with divorces and children, a life he had left behind, but no one expected...that.

Perhaps Gideon's vision of a family was something that was only in the imagination, never something tangible. Until that moment. Until the most beautiful girl Reid had ever seen was the daughter of one of the men he respected most. Until him heart soared at alarming levels for him boss's daughter. Spencer had been in trouble before when it came to matters of the heart, but the trouble gained a position in the top 3.

“What are you doing here?” A rare smile appeared on Gideon's face, his brow slightly furrowed.

“We were going to dinner today, remember? In that new Japanese restaurant.” Your tone of voice was not resentful or hurt by the situation that was explicit there.

The life of a BAU agent take many things, some with a more atrocious force than others, and one of them was the availability of hours. commitments that count on presence.

“I totally forgot, I'm sorry.�� Gideon's voice was always calm and controlled, he managed to speak from the most tender emotions to the most heinous crimes with a peaceful intonation. But to perceive traces of parental love was new. “The case was very complicated, my cell phone died and...”

“It's okay, Dad.” You smiled, making a casual gesture with your hand “I thought this happened, but I thinking it best to come here to see if everything was okay instead of waiting until tomorrow.”

Your smile, despite being the simple one, was the brightest for Spencer.

Gideon still had a fatherly look and a chaste and grateful smile when he turned to the other agents who were still puzzled.

“Y/n, these are agents Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss and Dr. Spencer Reid.” Jason introduced them to you “Guys, this is my daughter, Y/n.”

“Is a pleasure.” You smiled genuinely at them.

“I had no idea that you had a daughter!” Emily gave a low, slightly bewildered laugh that also made you laugh.

“Everybody says that.” You looked at your father again, having fun.

“I'm just going to go over some reports with Hotcher before I leave.” Gideon kept a chaste smile. “Why don't you wait here and then let's go get something to eat?”

“Of course, no problem, Dad.” You agreed, adjusting the thin shoulder bag that was on your shoulder.

As Jason went up to Hotcher's office, you turned to the agents again, with a gentle smile on your face.

“My dad said great things about you.” Emily smiled at your statement.

"I'm still chocked ." She laughed, and Morgan added:

“ I really need to know...” he looked around, in a playful suspense “Is Gideon really that serious outside the FBI?”

You laughed “Oh no! Definitely not.”

So you reached for your phone in the litlle bag, hunting for a photo on it and showing it to the three agents. It was a recent photograph where you and Gideon had their faces painted in easy ink. You had a skeleton mouth made with white and black paint, and Jason had a pink glitter butterfly covering his left cheek. You two were laughing in the photo.

Morgan was the one who let out a loud, dripping laugh, with a few tears accumulating in the corners of his eyes.

“How is this possible?” Morgan was trying to catch the air.

“It was at the last Halloween, he and I bet that whoever lost in the snooker that day would have to paint a butterfly on their face.” You laughed.

“And did he lose?” Spencer found a voice for it, his mind failing to process the image of Gideon losing any game.

“I have my suspicions that he let me win” You joked “But I enjoyed the victory just the same.”

The conversation was light after that, Spencer refrained from much of the dialogue, a little fearful that you could hear him heart beating loudly whenever you smile in his direction. As the minutes passed, Derek and Emily had to go back to their duties and finish their reports, while you were sitting in one of the chairs at an empty table.

It was one of those moments when Reid tried to focus on the files in front of him to exorcise what was going on around him. Paperwork had always brought the lull needed to make Spencer meditate. It was almost like relaxation. But in moments like this, when something in the environment around him pulled his attention so much, he stayed on the same page for long minutes.

That must be why he didn't hear the wheels on your chair approach, and he didn't even notice that you were so close until you said:

“Are you really a doctor?” Your voice was low, soft, as if you didn't want to disturb the other agents who were working.

Spencer turned his head towards you, only to find the modern personification of what would be the Athena de Troia. You were close, not close enough to touch, but close enough that he could smell your perfume. You smelled like the night, the excitement of nights and the brightness of the stars. And if Spencer looked deeper into yours eyes, he would sure they contained shine moonlight.

He swallowed, the mania for blinking compulsively returning a little.

“A-ahm yes. Not really a doctor, but m-my 3 Phd’s make me a doctor.”

He might be mistaken, but the smile that spread across your face was not just friendly, it wasn't curious, it was… delighted. As if the roles were reversed and he was the most fascinating thing in that room, not you.

The glow that was adorned in yours eyes had something lyrical, ethereal, wonderful. As if the brightness of all the galaxies were inhabiting your irises, moving in your orbit. At that moment, Spencer was deeply grateful to have eidetic memory, because 10 years from now he could still remember how you looked like a muse over there. DC night came in through the big glass windows, and if Reid had to describe that moment with the five senses, he would say that the world had turned the light down to a rose tone, the smell was heaven and your smile promised to contain wonders of the world.

Holy Mother of God, you are so, so beautiful!

“My dad said there was a genius on the team.” You said, your attention on him is always tender, adoreble. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

Your perfume invaded him sense of smell once again, and he felt his heart beat faster once more. Spencer would have told you all the secrets in the world if you asked. He would have told all own secrets.

“No way.” He sat back in his chair to look at you better, oblivious to the exchange of looks that Emily and Morgan gave.

You rested your arms on Spencer's table, the chair next to his.

“You never thought of being like... the wizard Doctor Strange?” You hoped that Spencer knew Marvel “Before he was a magician, of course. But why didn't you want to be a surgeon or something?” You laughed “There is a phrase him says: I have a photographic memory and this is what made me ..."

“ ‘Get my diploma and doctorate at the same time’ " Spencer completed you, laughing softly “I know the HQs. Did you know that the Doctor Strange character was created during the Silver Age of American comics to bring a different type of character and mystical themes to Marvel Comics? It him has an intellectual coefficient close to 177 points and I have… ”

The more he rambled, the more a stunning smile spread across your face. As if you were enchanted with him. And you were. Everyone was noticing the way Spencer seemed to have you curled up on his finger, your eyes sparkling and a silly smile twinkling on your face, paying attention to every word he said. It was an overwhelmingly lovely sight to behold.

But just as everything had a time, an hourglass, your time had reached the last grain of sand.

“All right, Y/n.” Gideon went down the stairs, cutting the end of Reid's sentence “Ready?”

You stood up, agreeing with your father and smoothing the dress. When you put your hands on the chair, ready to take it back to place, you turned to Spencer once again:

“I'm going to bring my dad to BAU tomorrow, do you think me and you can meting and you give me the answer to the question tomorrow?” Your smile was able to light up the whole of Washington.

“S-sure!” Spencer's voice went up more high notes than he would like to admit.

And, even when you left, even when Morgan and Emily jokes him about it, and even when he finally lay down on his own bed, you were still the only thing that occupied Spencer's mind.

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pigeonp0st · 3 years

Note

Hi I love your fics!❤️

Can I request a WandaxReader where Wanda is still new to the Avengers and so people are still pretty afraid and a little hostile towards her but Reader(a trainee or whatever) is one of the few people who aren’t scared of Wanda and the two end up getting close. Idk if that’s too much or not 😅🤷🏽

Wanda Maximoff x Reader #1

Words: 1,561

Warnings: Food, burn

Notes:

Thank you <3 and thanks for my first Wanda ask! I hope you enjoy. Sorry for all spelling/grammar mistakes ;)

(Imma head to bed now...if I can anyways. I’m super hyper for some reason)

———

There’s a new girl walking around the tower when you come back from your mission. You have to ask Tony to explain everything to you so you can understand why.

Apparently she was their enemy...and then their partner, and now a new avenger. You’re happy to have someone else on the team but everyone else seems...skeptical of her.

They get silent when she walks into a room. They don’t make much of an effort to talk to her, and they’re just all around...petty.

The new girl doesn’t seem to mind though. She just sits still and looks like she’d rather be anywhere else with her eyes darting around the room.

—-

Steve confronts you the day after you try to talk to Wanda during dinner. He warns you that she’s dangerous, and that he doesn’t trust her yet. He says not to become too close to her. The rest of the Avengers agree with him.

You just stare at them in mild disbelief. “Steve,” you tell him, incredibly disappointed in him, and the rest of the avengers, “she has lost everything. She looks lonely and depressed most of the time...how could you—how could you find evil in that?”

Him and the rest of the avengers don’t try and stop you from talking to her after that.

—-

“Train with me, Wanda.”

Wanda looks up from the book she’s been studying with narrowed eyes. “What?”

You grin at her cheekily and hold out a hand, “I wanna kick your ass. You can use your powers.”

Her eyebrow quirks then, surprised and apprehensive, and rightfully so. No one else even considers training with her. “I knew everyone here disliked me but I didn’t think they’d want to…’kick my ass’”

Your eyes widen comically. “I—what—no, no, no, I don’t want to—it’s an expression Wanda I swear, god, of course I don’t want to—I mean I do, but like in a friendly way—”

This, this moment right here is the first time you see her smile. It’s the first time you stop and notice how beautiful Wanda is. It’s the first time making someone else’s smile fills you with such a great sense of accomplishment.

It leaves you unexplainably breathless for a moment.

“I was kidding,” Wanda informs you, taking a hold of your hand and shaking it to seal the deal. It’s the first time you two touch. “I’m going to be the one kicking your ass, Y/N.”

She knows your name. Wanda knows your name. “I’d like to see you try.”

———

Wanda does end up kicking your ass, but she does it gently...if that’s possible. You challenge her again and again after that, only to end up losing each time.

Wanda keeps accepting, even though she looks more and more hesitant each time you ask, like she thinks that maybe this time will be the moment you realize she isn’t worth it. That she’s a monster.

You don’t. You don’t get bitter like she imagined either. You just get up each time with playfulness and a tiny bit of awe and fight again, but you never look at her with fear.

To Wanda, this moment means more than you will ever know. To Wanda, this is the moment she realizes that she wants to keep spending time with you, and that maybe this place won’t be that bad. Maybe she doesn’t have to be miserable any more.

To you, this is where you decide to keep surprising Wanda. Each time you get up again, each time you laugh, every compliment you give to her powers, she lights up just that bit more. You want to be someone Wanda can enjoy.

——

It’s about the fifteenth ass kicking that you decide, breathlessly, that you two try to fight without Wanda using her powers.

Wanda agrees cockily, which is why it’s such a surprise when you manage to knock her flat after the first five seconds.

You laugh loudly at her pout, so hard that your body shakes with it, but you manage to get out, between fits of laughter; “why the fuck were you so confident?”

Wanda rolls her eyes at you and kicks your feet out from under you but you couldn’t care less. You’re too busy laughing, and she joins in after a moment.

When the two of you calm down you turn your head to look at her. Her cheeks are flushed from laughing, and her hair is messy on the ground, but to you; she has never looked more beautiful. She has never looked so happy.

“I’ll train you,” you promise her, offering a smile that’s gentler than you intended.

Wanda nods, suddenly sheepish. “And i’ll train you.”

You remind her softly that you can’t use powers like her, but she smirks at you deviously like she’s already very much aware.

“I was not talking about your fighting skills,” Wanda huffs. “I tried one of the cookies you made the other day...and let’s just say they were not very good.”

The glare you send her way isn’t like the ones the avengers have been giving her—it’s completely playful. “I doubt that you’re baking skills are much better.”

“You will see.”

—-

Wanda is awful at baking you learn. The lesson she tried to give you ended with the kitchen almost burned down and the entire avenger squad rushing into the smoke filled kitchen.

What they come to see is Wanda, covered in flour, glaring at black bundles of ash that were meant to be cookies, and you doubled over in laughter in no less of a state of messiness.

Wanda swats at the back of your head, not noticing the avengers, and you try to hug her consoling despite your laughter.

Thus, the avengers realize with no small amount of amusement, that maybe Wanda can be trusted.

No villain can look that upset over burnt cookies, and no villain can look at someone with that amount of softness.

—-

The avengers warm up to Wanda quickly once they actually start talking to her, but she always clearly prefers to spend her training with you, and she never stops your baking session, even despite how awfully they always go.

You’ve also developed... feelings... for Wanda. It must be obvious to the rest of the avengers but it doesn’t seem to be as obvious to Wanda herself.

At least, you don’t think it is. You don’t think she likes you like that anyways...

Well, not until about your tenth baking lesson with her.

—

She’s grinning at you with the amount of joy you’ve finally become accustomed to seeing on her, and holding out (with her adorable mittens) the first set of non-burnt cookies that you two have ever made.

She looks so accomplished and so smug that you can’t help it. You kiss her. Right there in the compounds kitchen, with flour all around, and sugar in your hairs.

You kiss her and she kisses you back, tasting like your favorite dinner, and hot chocolate on a winter day. Kissing her is like coming home after a long day out, kissing her is like coming up for air after being underwater for much too long, kissing her is like—

“Ow!” You yell, pulling away abruptly and looking down at the red burn mark on your hand.

Wanda stands there blinking for a couple of moments, first at your lips, then at your burn mark, and then at the still hot ban still in her grasp.

When she’s able to snap out of her daze she sets the pan down and hugs you, with your burned hand between your bodies. “Sorry,” Wanda whispers.

“It wasn’t your fault.” It wasn’t. You were just too overwhelmed kissing her to remember the pan she was holding. Speaking of… “would you like—to you know...do that again sometime?”

Wanda releases you from her hug to give you an amused smile. “I’ll do you one better,” she says, cupping your cheek. “Be my girlfriend?”

You certainly weren’t expecting that. “Shouldn’t we at least go on a date first?”

Wanda tilts her head, confused and hesitant. “Haven’t we gone on ten now?”

You gape at her, bewildered. “I—um...I didn’t know...you know what, never mind. Let’s just...you’re my girlfriend now. Okay?”

This was not how you were expecting your day to go, but you're not even close to disappointed because Wanda gives you a beaming smile and nods her head repeatedly before drawing you back in for another kiss.

She pulls away after a moment. “I know they weren’t dates, but they might as well have been now, right?”

You wonder if everything you say to each other is going to be a question, and whether or not she’s doing this on purpose.

“Right.”

“Cool.”

“Cool,” you agree, rolling your eyes playfully. “Wanna treat my hand for me now that this is all settled, and since you're the one who burned me?”

“You said that wasn’t my fault!” Wanda huffs.

“Yes, well now that I want something from you it is.”

“Ah, I see. That’s how it works.”

“Yep.”

“Cool.”

You flick her gently between the brows with your non-injured hand. “Stop it.”

Wanda smirks. “Or what, you’ll fight me about it? Do you think it’ll be your first win?”

“Dickhead.”

“Very professional, Y/N. Very professional.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #marvel x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x you #marvel x female reader #marvel x you #marvel x y/n #marcel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #wanda imagine #wanda maximoff imagine #imagine #female reader #fem reader

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eirikaanemo · 3 years

Note

Venti's crush is a sister in the Church of Favonius. That's the entire prompt. Okay, she may have overheard Venti when he asked for the Holy Lyre and maaaaybe she gave it to him (in the name of freedom!), but she probably wouldn't be a sister after that.

Venti x GN!Reader

1.7k Words

Warnings: Eviction? Kinda?

Notes: So, halfway through I remembered "Sister" is a gendered term, so I switched it to "Disciple". Hopefully that still works!

Part 2: His Fight

His Lyre

He first caught your attention while he was doing a street performance. You were walking down the street, minding your own business, when you heard a melody so beautiful that you swore it had to be Barbatos himself. Following your curiosity, you found him performing a ballad for a group of children. His clear tenor painted looks of wonder on their faces as he regaled them with tales of Vanessa and the revolution of freedom.

You couldn’t help but stop to watch as well. He had captivated you as much as he had the children and you didn’t regret a thing. After Vanessa’s tale he sang of the fall of the storm god, the rise of Barbatos, the shaping of the lands, and the rise of Mondstadt. Every song seemed almost more amazing than the last.

It was getting close to evening by the time you were able to free yourself from his spell. Or rather, he stopped casting it. His last few notes rang out and faded into the darkness. You almost didn’t dare to breathe in fear of breaking the serene silence that overtook the scene. Then his eyes opened.

This was your first real chance to get a good look at them as he was usually facing just slightly away from you. Everyone else had gone home, so as he scanned the area, his eyes fell on you. And suddenly all you could see was his eyes. They’re beautiful, you thought to yourself, a hint of blush warming your cheeks.

His braids swayed a bit as he tilted his head curiously and a smile flashed across his lips. “It’s not often I see a Disciple here, tell me, did you like what there was to hear?”

“I did,” you confirmed. “I’m very impressed! It was almost like I was listening to Barbatos himself!”

He looked stunned for a moment, then an odd look crossed his face before he quickly covered it up with a broad smile. “Thanks! I appreciate the sentiment! That’s really quite the compliment.”

You were able to spend the next little while chatting before you had to go, but similar scenes occurred fairly often as time went on. About the tenth time or so he decided that you were friends, which you had no objection to. Though there was always a small twinge in your heart whenever he called you that for some reason.

Along with becoming friends, you started to notice some things. His songs are… very detailed in a way that makes them line up with records that rarely see the light of day. While you do your best to share Barbatos’ gospel of freedom with everyone, some records are just too fragile to be available to the general public. So the Disciples, like you, memorize them and tell them to the worshipers who come to the Cathedral.

However, either on purpose or by accident, most of the time Disciples will mix up little details or paraphrase things or skip over sections in a way that can confuse the story some. But Venti’s songs match every detail shown in the records, and more. You had checked multiple times and it always came out the same way. He was one hundred percent correct, in every song he played.

Then there was his hair. You’d never seen anyone with their hair being tinted at the ends like that. And you couldn’t find the hair dye he used either. And oh boy had you looked. You wanted teal in your hair too dang it! And when you finally asked him where he got it he laughed and said it was natural. How is that fair?

And then there are the times where he just didn’t act quite human. Like forgetting to eat all day without realizing it. Or referring to other people as “humans”, as if he, himself, isn’t human. Or how he only ever wears one outfit. Or the way anemo energy seems to flow through him instead of around him. You wouldn’t even have noticed that last one if it wasn’t for the fact that you are hypersensitive to it due to how you use your anemo vision. From all of that, and more, you can just tell that something isn’t quite what it seems about him.

So when you’re cleaning the cathedral in the back and hear him out himself as Barbatos to Sister Gotelinde something just clicked. Oh, of course he was Barbatos. What else could he possibly be? Too much added up for it to not make sense! Unfortunately by the time you were done reeling from shock Sister Gotelinde had sent him right out the door.

You had caught enough of the conversation, though, that you knew that Venti- no, Barbatos had need of his lyre. So you came up with a plan. This was going to get you in so, so much trouble. But this is what needed to be done. You need to get him his lyre.

It was surprisingly easy to swipe the lyre from its pedestal and avoid the other inhabitants of the Cathedral by taking back passageways. You had almost made it out, you were so close when you suddenly ran into someone.

Holding a hand to the point of impact starting to swell on your forehead, you squint over towards the other group. When your brain registers that you just ran into Venti you gasp and scramble to your feet, still holding the holy lyre to your chest. “Oh my goodness, I’m so, so sorry Venti,” you apologize. “Or, uh, would you prefer I call you Barbatos?”

Your friend blinks once, then twice, dumbstruck by the situation. “Venti is fine,” he scrambles to assure you after a few moments. “How did you know?”

“You weren’t exactly the quietest when speaking with Sister Gotelinde, Venti. And I was cleaning just out of sight. It made a lot more sense than some other explanations for your weird behavior that I’d come up with.” You admit sheepishly. “And I believe this is yours.”

His face lit up as you held the holy lyre out towards him. “The Lyre de Himmel! Thank you so much! See that, Traveler? We didn’t even have to steal it! I promise to do my best to take care of it.” You quirk an eyebrow as the Traveler finishes shaking off the effects of running into you.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that, and you better.” you tell him pointedly, causing him to giggle nervously. “Besides, the two of you need to go! I… didn’t exactly tell anyone about this. Good luck with Dvalin, Venti, Traveler. May Barbatos be with you!” You called out the last part out of habit.

Moments later you felt a hand clap onto your shoulder. “Dear,” Sister Gotelinde drawled slightly. “Please tell me you didn’t hand our sacred treasure over to that alcoholic bard.” You’re silent for a moment before years of being at the Cathedral won over your common sense. “You know I can’t do that, Sister.”

She sighs from her position behind you and her hand tightens on your shoulder. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how much trouble you’re in, especially if it doesn’t come back in one piece.” You gulp.

“Yes, Sister Gotelinde.” You murmur.

“Good, now get back to cleaning.” She instructs you curtly.

Nodding, you turn and walk past her towards where you were cleaning. She continued on, likely going to report the situation to Sister Barbara. You really hope that Venti keeps his promise.

While you try your best to put the situation out of your mind, your thoughts keep drifting back to it the whole next day. The nightmare you’d had that night hadn’t helped either. It had been a morbid scene, a broken lyre on the ground with an equally broken Venti as a triumphant Stormterror screeched over their still forms. You’d woken up sweaty.

Logically you knew that Barbatos- no, Venti wouldn’t fall to Stormterror. But the scene still wouldn’t go away. And neither did the awkward feeling that accompanied your usual duties as a disciple. Some of your regular duties were suddenly almost… laughable? You now knew that Barbatos didn’t care about a good chunk of what you did in the Cathedral that some considered absolutely essential.

Your attitude didn’t help your position though, not with everyone now knowing what you did and watching you closely. The day is long and you feel trapped every second of it. Then Venti returns victorious with a broken lyre and everything crumbles around you. You’re kicked out, banned for life, right after him, with a suitcase of your stuff chucked out after you. Even though he ‘fixed it’.

Part of you wants to just lay there and regret your life choices; but you can’t help but smile when Venti reaches a hand out to lift you up, laughing about the irony of the situation. A small smile manages to reach your face as Jean starts chuckling too.

“Don’t worry too much, I know you’ve done a great good for Mondstadt.” She reassures you. “I know you have a vision, an anemo vision at that.” She gives Venti a pointed look. “How would you like to become a knight?”

Your smile grows into something a little more natural. “I’d like that, thank you Jean.”

“It’s no problem, really the least I could do. I’m sorry it had to end like this. Now, come to my office when you have a moment so we can formalize it. But for now I need to go and formally close the Stormterror case.” With a sigh she walked past you towards the knights headquarters and the inevitable paperwork which awaits her.

“I’m sorry that you got kicked out,” Venti apologizes once Jean’s out of sight. “All you did was help and you got in trouble for it.”

“It’s alright, Venti,” you try to claim. “It was kind of awkward knowing that you are Barbatos anyway.”

“Still,” he pressed. “You put everything on the line for me and I really appreciate it. I’m really sorry I didn’t follow through. I’ll have to make it up to you. And I know just where to start.”

His kiss to your cheek was quick but sent a warmth blooming across your face, contrasting with the coolness of his lips.

“Of course,” you mumble, embarrassed. “It was your lyre anyway.”

“It was,” he agreed. “But you believed me. And that really does mean a lot to me. Thank you, really.”

#eirika writes #venti #genshin venti #venti x reader #genshin impact x reader

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zeroweeenies · 3 years

Note

Yuuji and Megumi sfw and nsfw relationship hcs pleathe 🤲🏽

this is my first time doing a hc fic and sfw >.<

n/sfw relationship headcannons

Character(s): yuuji, megumi, and todo

Rating: 18+

Todo (SFW)

🍓 He’s a big teddy bear 🥺 todo gives you the best hugs and loves to pick you up like you’re his little doll wherever you go.

🍓 Todo will definitely beat anyone up for you. Someone’s being mean to you? “Point them out to me, I’ll take care of it” he won’t let anyone hurt his precious baby

🍓 He was so shy around you when you first started dating. Whenever you came around he was always blushing and scared to talk to you despite being so tough.

🍓 Treats you like a princess and spoils you with tons of gifts for no reason. Your birthday is March 3rd? This guy buys you gifts for your “birthday” on the same day each month

🍓 “Happy birthday, baby” he hands you some expensive looking necklace that he somehow managed to afford. “My birthday was four months ago” “everyday is your birthday to me” 🥺

🍓 Mean to everyone except you and doesn’t let anyone get his attention but you. If another girl tries to flirt with him he flicks her away like a bug. “go away whore”

(NSFW)

🍓 He’s a service top idc. His sole purpose in bed is to please you. Whispers sweet praises in your ears when he’s splitting you open on his fat cock. “you’re so good for me baby” “you’re gonna take all of it right? good girl” ughhhh

🍓 This man makes my size kink go brrr. He loves how much smaller you are than him when you’re undneath him as he obliterates your cunt.

🍓 King of praise. Whenever he lets you top him and your legs get tired he’ll encourage you to keep going.

🍓 “Come on baby, keep going.” “I know you wanna cum, you can do it” fuckkk >.<

Yuuji (SFW)

🍓 He’s such a clingy baby :( he always wants to be under you. Laying on your chest, hugging you from behind, looping his fingers in the belt loop of your pants to follow you around. if you even go anywhere too far away from him he’s like “where are you going?” “can I come with you?”

🍓 When you say no he gives you the silent treatment till you apologize. “you’re so mean to me” with his cute lil pouty face 🥺

🍓 Yuuji always keeps his promises.

🍓 He goes all out on days that are really important to you. If it’s your birthday he throws you a huge surprise party.

🍓 “Surpriseee!” The lights flicker on and confetti guns are shot into the air, covering you. You’re surrounded by all your friends and family with Yuuji in front of you, his cute little birthday hat titled to the side and party horn in hand, too excited to surprise you.

🍓 He just loves doing the most for you, he’ll do anything to protect your smile.

(NSFW)

🍓 Don’t let that sweet exterior fool you this man is a dom to the maxxxx

🍓 His specialty is definitely aftercare. He can go from degrading you so fucking hard “Get that fucking tongue out you dirty bitch, I wanna see you drooling all over my cock” to giving you affirming praises about how good you are for him while he takes care of your sore body “You did so good for me baby, so good”

🍓 breeding kink breeding kink breeding kink. He has to cum in you at least four times cause he wants to see you when you’re all swelled up with his kids.

🍓 Loves the way his cum drips out of your pussy after he’s stuffed you full with multiple loads, there’s no way you won’t get pregnant.

🍓 “I can’t wait to see you filled up with my babies, gonna breed you so fucking good” he thrusts into you as he cums inside you for the tenth time that night.

Megumi (SFW)

🍓 Loves when you play with his hair. He can be the most nonchalant person in the world but immediately goes soft when your fingers are on his scalp, he cuddles closer to you and falls asleep on your boobies when you keep doing it.

🍓 You made a playlist of songs for him that reminded you of your relationship and he plays it nonstop whenever he has to go away on long missions while all he thinks about is getting back home to you

🍓 Pays attention to detail. If he sees you looking at something you’re interested he’ll buy it for you and surprise you with it. He loves seeing that beautiful smile when he pulls the boxed anklet from behind his back that you were eyeing in the store.

🍓 “Baby, no fucking way did you get this for me!” You practically jump in his arms giddily. That thing had to cost a fortune “It was nothing” it really is but he doesn’t care, he’ll spend his last dime on you if he has to.

(NSFW)

🍓 Dominant all the time. Very rarely will he sub for you but when he does he’s so whiny. He’ll beg you to let him cum when you’re stroking his dick while you’re rimming him.

🍓 “Please let me cum, mistress” you pump him faster until he reaches his peak, ruining his orgasm as white ropes spill on his stomach.

🍓 He cries as his torso is coated with his cum, his whines muffled by you scooping it up with your fingers and pushing them into his mouth. “If you keep bratting off to me, this little dick won’t ever cum again” his dick flexes painfully when you degrade him. He won’t admit it but he loves when you dom him.

🍓 Definitely a sadist. He only gets harder when he sees you underneath him squirming from overstimulation and pain

🍓 “It’s too much? That’s too bad. I’m not stopping until I’m done with you”

🍓 Doesn’t stop until you’re literally shaking and crying. Trying to crawl away? He pounds you harder. If he’s going down south and you try to push his head away to escape? Hell pin your wrists down and keep eating you long after you cum.

🍓 “I told you baby, I’m not stopping until I see you crying on my dick.” And just like always, he keeps his promise.

#tw breeding kink #megumi smut #jjk smut #megumi fushiguro #yuuji smut #itadori smut #itadori hcs #megumi headcanons #todo smut #aoi todo #aoi todo x reader #megumi x you #megumi x reader #itadori x reader #yuuji itadori x reader

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donutloverxo · 3 years

Note

Mobster Steve always ready to shut anyone up by his excessive pda in front of anyone and everyone .. cries .. a dream

Thanks for the request and sorry it took so long. I'm combining this and another anon who asked for a reader standing up for herself hopefully thats okay. Warnings - daddy kink, mob!Steve, misogyny. Dividers by @whimsicalrogers.

The yelling out 'daddy!' In public but was inspired by @cruelfvkingsummer s sugar daddy!August Walker.

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs and welcome and much appreciated. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+. Please🙏🙏

*gif is not mine*

"You're gonna have to make a decision someday, cap," Sam chimed in, reminding Steve of the time crunch.

He only hummed in return, having had about enough of working the whole damn week, what's worse was that he couldn't even spend the weekend with you.

His frown quickly softening and turning into a smile when he saw you come out of his car, "Daddy!" you squealed, jumping up and down in excitement as you ran to him and threw your arms around him.

He was taken aback a bit, stumbling back a few steps but he managed to catch you, burying his nose in your hair as you nuzzled your face in the crook of his neck.

"I missed you so so much!" you sighed, finally happy to be with him.

He tried to set you down to your feet, so he could get a good look at your face, but you refused to stop clinging to him,"How was your trip, princess?" he asked rubbing your back, which was exposed since you were wearing a flimsy backless dress, he didn't know how he felt about that.

"Oh my gosh!" you squealed again, standing ok your feet so you could look up at him, "We had so much fun! I bought so many new pretty things, hot some for you and your friends too," you blinked.

He hummed, pulling you into him and crashing his lips over yours, he had missed you, it had been less than a week and yet it felt like months. He was well aware of Sam, Bucky, Peter and his bodyguards eyes on you, some of them had the decency to avert their gaze while Sam and Bucky smiled and stared as if they were proud parents.

You giggled, your cheeks warm and head dizzy from the kiss as he let you go.

"Yeah, what'd you get us, princess?" Bucky teased.

Steve shot him a look, knowing that he was only joking but that pet name was reserved for him, only he got the privilege to call you that.

"Ooh! I got you some magnets to put on your fridge and a nice shirt."

"Alright, princess, let's get going or we'll be late," he urged you. Not ready to share your attention with his friends, not after having you back in his arms after so long, and dreading the party you were both going to.

"Did she give you any trouble?" he asked Peter. He had sent the boy with you and your friends to Milan to protect you and make sure that you stayed out of trouble.

"Uh... no, sir. But..." he hesitated, he thought of you as a big sister and would never want to rat you out or get you in trouble, but his loyalty lied with the mob boss, "She might've maxed out your platinum card..."

"Don't worry about that..." he chuckled and thanked him for taking care of you.

"Daddy," you whined, squirming against his side, you had been acting antsy ever since you got in the limo, pressing kisses to his neck and his collarbone, pulling at the collar of his dress shirt, "I missed you sooo much..."

"I missed you too, baby. But we need to talk," he propped your chin up so he could look into your beautiful eyes, "You'll need to be careful with the card from now on. You can't just blow money away just because we have a lot of it."

"Bu... but," your eyes tearing up and your bottom lip wobbling, "I thought what was yours was mine. You said so yourself..." you sniffled, trying to keep your tears at bay, he had told you that when he asked you to leave your shitty studio apartment and move into his brownstone in Brooklyn, he let you decorate the place however you liked and let you have access to his accounts so you let yourself think that what was his was truly yours. "My mom was right..."

"Right about what?"

"She told me never to move in with a guy until I'm engaged. I'm just like... a kept woman for you..."

"No...no...no, honey," he sighed, stroking your cheek, "It is yours. Everything that is mine is yours. Even my heart," he said putting your hand over his heart, "my soul, it's all yours. More than it is mine really."

"And... I'm just looking for a ring, baby. You know I'd be an idiot not to give you my name and make you my wife. But we need to be cautious, what if we spend all our money and don't have any in case of an emergency?"

"All right, that makes sense. I'm sorry, daddy, I promise I'll be careful."

"I know you will, baby. You're my good girl right?"

"Yes," you nodded, clenching your thighs together.

"Are you wet, honey?" he smiled.

"Yes," you giggled. "Will you fuck me right now, please?" pulling your doe eyes so he absolutely won't be able to resist you.

"Not in a moving car, honey," he said, pulling on your bottom lip with his thumb before pushing it in your warm mouth, "I want to take my time with you. I haven't had my most favorite meal in days, so I'll have to do that first, for at least an hour, and then you are good and show me that you deserve it, I'll let you ride my cock."

His words sent shivers up your spine, you gulped, you were bound to be sore tonight. But there was still the matter of your needy pussy, and you weren't patient like your daddy.

"Can I at least suck daddy's cock then?" you requested.

He chuckled, "You just never take no for an answer do you, baby," as you shook your head. He unzipped his pants, pulling his hardening cock out of his pants.

"I'll mess up your hair," he said as you got down to your knees, between his legs, "I don't mind. I want my cummies," you excitedly wrapped your hand around his length, wrapping your lips around his tip.

He pushed your head down, making you gag, "We have to hurry, baby, we'll be there soon..." he moaned as he threw his head back.

He kept fucking his cock into your face, trying not to mess with your pretty hair which was your done up, your makeup was already ruined though, "Here it comes, baby," he warned you before releasing in your mouth.

You swallowed all of out, so that you could impress him and show him that you were his good girl, and because you were looking forward to the, hopefully huge, diamond he was going to buy you.

You were never a huge fan of parties like these, bored out of your mind, you couldn't even talk to anyone, Sam and Bucky seem to have wandered off somewhere while Steve was too busy making small talk that would literally put you to sleep.

"I'm bored," you told him for the tenth time, you would've even stomped your feet and thrown a full blown tantrum if you weren't aware of everyone's eyes on you, "And my feet hurt from these heels."

"I told you to wear something sensible, doll," he sighed. "Just an hour or so more and then I'll give you a foot massage, okay?"

You only huffed, four inches were more than sensible, you were going to wear the killer eight inch stilletos you bought in Italy with your friends but didn't knowing he'll scold you for it.

"Whatever," you mumbled.

Walking towards a group of women, who looked like they were mob wives and mob mistresses, you could talk to them to kill time.

'She's such a gold digger, I've heard Rogers has a lot of money.' You stopped in your tracks as you heard one of them say.

'You have to be hot to be a gold digger,' another voice snickered.

"Oh shit, I think she heard us..." she whispered as they both looked at you.

"Hello," you gave them a sweet smile, "were you both talking about me?"

"Yeah..." the blonde girl, Stacey you recalled her name was, "It's only the truth," she shrugged. "Nothing wrong with it, go get that money, girl!" She tried to salvage it but the damage was done.

"I think you're mistaken," you said as you propped your hand on your hip, "I'm not a gold digger. I love Steve and I do like how rich he is, but I'd love him even if he didn't have the money. Is it possible that you were projecting your own Insecurities on me? You're the one who wishes your man would leave his wife for you, not me. I'm going to be Mrs Steve Rogers. So you should watch how you speak about me if you know what's good for you."

She was about to quip back but then you felt his arm around you, "Good evening, ladies," he said to the small group of women, "Mind if I steal my fiance for a second?" he asked.

They all stared dumbfounded as he whisked you away.

"Not gonna lie, I would've loved to rescue you and be your knight," he told you as you both walked towards your limo, ready to end the night. "But I'm still so proud of you. You're my sweet strong girl."

"You'll always be my hero, daddy. No matter what."

#berry answers #steve rogers #chris evans x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x you #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #chris evans x you #steve rogers x reader #chris evans x y/n #mob!steve rogers x reader

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