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greywritesthings · 2 months

Text

Complete contradiction

Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Warnings; none I'm pretty sure

A/N; Longest fic so far, not very long by others standards but its 2 and a small paragraph pages so a lot compared to my normal one page fic. I really really like this one so any reblogs & comments would be especially appreciated on this one! (this also isnt proof read srry) also for additional context reader is also a classified genius and I do plan on making this a series :)

Taglist; @reidstheyfriend

SR Masterlist

Masterlist

read on Ao3 instead!

You peeled off your coat and dropped your bag at the door, not bothering to hang them up for now, solely focused on getting to your sofa so you could sit down. You had just gotten back from two cases in a row, meaning you were bone achingly exhausted. you had a case in Arizona followed by an emergency case involving a child in Texas then back to Virginia where you had given pretty much all the team a curt goodbye, texting Spencer a simple I love you and throwing him a smile before getting in your car. You had been with the BAU for a year now but were still yet to let your guard down around them all. You only trusted Spencer fully given he was your boyfriend and you had known him before coming to the BAU, you met when he was doing his third PHD and you were on your second.

Spencer had spent a lot of time with you while you did your PHD, you were working on your criminal psychology doctorate after finishing your first one in Philosophy while he did his in chemistry. You bonded well, at first spending time in the library or lab together but soon enough you decided to start working together at your apartment, where Spencer had learnt you were very different at home compared to how you were outside.

You dressed like a typical academic, dark tones with some purples and greens thrown in, your makeup was light but you often had on dark eyeliner and lipstick, you came off as cold and intimidating to everyone in looks and you weren't very friendly in tone, you just had a soft spot for the boy genius. Many would think your house would be the same, covered in books, dark colours throughout too but it was nearly the opposite. Once you walked through the door there was colour near enough everywhere, not migraine inducing neon but there were shades of light greys purples and greens covering the walls with mandala tapestries and other art pieces joining them. A striped rug with shades of pink, yellow and orange covered the floor of the living room underneath a dark coffee table in between two large patchwork sofas, a pink lamp stood in the corner on top of a small green table . Your kitchen was also brushed with colour, bright blue cabinets with light wooden countertops with a rainbow variety of cutlery, kitchen utensils, bowls and plates, your book cases throughout the apartment had books with custom dust jackets on so they were in theme with the rest of the house, you had picked up making them during highschool out of boredom. Your house was the opposite of you, and also the opposite of Spencer, who preferred the darker themes all around.

You also had divided your wardrobe up into your working outfits and your not working outfits. Whenever you were going to set foot at work or when you met spencer, university, you wore your darker more academic and professional outfits and once you were home you wore colourful outfits. It helped you to compartmentalise the job so you didn't burn out or stress as much. When you were off work you lived in sweaters, dungarees and dresses in colours and styles that made you happy. When you and Spencer were together off work you looked like the complete contradiction of one another for people who worked so well and were identical in many other ways.

You picked yourself up from the couch and trudged over to your bedroom to go and change into your choice of clothes for the evening. When you look through your closet you decide on a white turtleneck and pastel pink dungarees, putting on some fuzzy socks and leaving your hair down for now so you can settle in for the night making some new jackets for Spencer's books. His books were beaten up from all the travelling he did with them and they were starting to fall apart, especially the older ones, so you were making them in hopes that it would slow down the damage.

You were so focused on your project that you didn't hear the door unlocking, you were used to Spencer letting himself in so it didn't put you on alert, not until you heard a voice who definitely wasn't supposed to be at your door, let alone inside your apartment. “Oh my god, are we in the right place?” Penelope squealed from your doorway. “I don’t think we should be here, she's private and this is certainly something she doesn't want us to know.” You hear Rossi suggest. “Guys it'll be fine, what's the worst that could happen?” Morgan assures, you're now almost certain that at least JJ and Emily are here, possibly Hotch given aside from Spencer he was the only one with a spare key for safety purposes. Spencer wasn't with them you guessed, he was coming home after he finished up some paperwork at the university he had been requested to do last minute on a friday so he was coming over around eight PM.

“You can come in instead of letting my heating out.” You may not look as intimidating but you can sound as cold as ever given you just had six people show up on your door and let themselves in. They all come in, awkwardly standing in the doorway as Hotch closes the door behind him. “Sorry for barging in y/n, I wanted to stop by and drop off your bag as you had left it behind at the office and Reid was gone and then the others, insisted on following me, I apologise again for the intrusion.” Hotch is nearly as formal with you as he is with strangers, you knew it was because the only things he knew about you were the things he was told by Strauss and your file, maybe also your favourite books if he managed to take a look at your open kindle on your desk sometimes. “Go make yourselves at home, leave two seats free on the sofa, also go snoop if you want, just stay out of the last room on the right, that's my bedroom.” you nod towards Garcia who practically lights up, both at your lighter tone and at the prospect of being let in to your personality. The girls and Morgan all go off to explore your apartment while Rossi and Hotch head over to the couches.

After a while the others are done exploring your home meaning you were all now sat together, you had passed around some hot chocolates and teas, you didn't drink coffee and over time had transitioned spencer to do the same so he didn't dump half a bag of sugar into his coffee just to make it drinkable for him. You weren't entirely relaxed but you were more so in your own home compared to in the bureau. You explained your way of separating work and home through your different ways of dressing, you also opened up on some of your history with Spencer, not quite yet letting on the fact you were together. You both had places of your own for safety reasons alongside not wanting to make your ever snooping coworkers suspicious. You thought you would be safe in hiding your relationship until you lost track of time and Spencer walked through the door and called to you automatically. “I'm home sweetheart!” pausing when he heard the chatter in the living room die down, when he turned around after hanging his coat and bag up on the hooks he looked nervously at you as you nodded at him, signalling you were okay if he was. With that he visibly relaxed as the screeching began from the girls once again while Hotch and Rossi just smiled at you, Hotch having already knew as you had to declare your relationship when you started at the bureau some years after spencer, opting to do some more teaching work and get your third PHD in linguistics before taking up a role in the BAU with him.

It was several hours later when the team eventually left with you promising you would join them on the next team gathering. You then got to curl up on the sofa in Spencer's arms watching nature documentaries and reading French novels, the way you normally would, with the thought of maybe you could wear something colourful on Monday, maybe a burnt orange to ease into it.

#greyswritings #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you

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yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 7 months

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Hellfire (Priest! Miguel O’Hara x Demon! Fem! Reader) one shot

Oooooo Im very happy about this one. Based of the song from the hunchback of Norte dame. No idea how this got to the word count it did lol. Not proofread.

Religious imagery(Catholicism specifically), questioning of faith, the lyrics of the song does contain a certain that can be seen as distasteful/offensive, reader is a demonic entity (almost like a succubus), nsfw content but no smut (mdni), semi-dub con(???) (reader trying to convince Miguel to give into her, but it’s mostly teasing touches and stuff.), cursing, mentions of hell.

(Y/N)- Your name.

Word count: 2.6K

Masterlist

—

Confiteor deo

Omnipotenti

Beatae Mariae

Semper virgini

Beato Michaeli archangelo

Sanctis apostolis

Omnibus sanctis

—

With a heavy sigh, Miguel placed his rosary and his bible on his office’s desk. Another Sunday completed, all the services for the day were finished, along with clean up and the classes for the kiddos. It was now getting dark, the sun setting, leaving a beautiful painting of pink and orange hues in the sky. The church bells struck once, twice, three times, then one last time, signifying another hour having passed as Miguel put on his winter coat and gloves, because surely,it was still snowing outside , his heavy footsteps echoing throughout the empty ancient church. He stops at the start of the wooden pews, turning towards the front and placing his right hand to the top of his forehead.

“En el nombre del Padre.” (In the name of the father.)

His hand travels to the middle of his chest.

“Y del Hijo.” (The son)

To his left shoulder.

“Y del Espíritu…” (And the holy…)

To his right shoulder.

“Santo, Amén.” (spirit, Amen.)

Lastly, he brings his hand up and places a gentle kiss on the side of it, his eyes never leaving the stain glass portrait of the Virgin Mary that hung in the middle of the top of the stage as he said the prayer, before turning back around and exiting the church, a familiar sense of dread filling his chest as he closes the door behind him.

—

Beata Maria, you know I am a righteous man

Of my virtue I am justly proud (et tibit pater)

—

Miguel couldn’t sleep, he wouldn’t sleep.

He rubs his large hands over his face, his eye bags have been getting darker lately, he’s been lacking energy, and thanks to the little sleep he’s been receiving, it was only making it harder for him to fight off the temptation of sin. But it’s not like he could have a full night's rest, not when… Miguel shook his head in an attempt to rid the vile and unholy thoughts. Maybe tonight will be different, that was the lie he told himself every night.

Miguel placed his toothbrush back into the little blue cup onto his bathroom sink, bringing up a small, white hand towel to clean off the excess water that was spread on his lips, and began to run down his chin and onto his neck.

what a delicious sight.

Once he finally finished cleaning up the water on his chin, he dragged the towel over his sink counter to clean the water he had spilled while brushing, before placing it back on its little hook and exited the bathroom, turning off the lights and closing the door.

Maybe he wouldn’t have the same problem every night if he didn’t look so tempting, only sleeping in gray sweatpants.

He does a once-over of his house, making sure all the doors and windows are locked. Before finishing stopping in front of his bedroom, freezing right before the threshold of the door. His hands go up and join together in a praying signal, whispering for protection under his breath.

Like that’s ever helped him.

—

Beata Maria, you know I'm so much purer than

The common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd (quia peccavi nimis)

—

The second he took the step into his bedroom, he felt a shiver run down his back. It felt like the temperature dropped once he walked in, he swore if he focused hard enough, he’d be able to see his own breath.

Despite his fight or flight senses screaming at him to run, he continued to venture further into his master bedroom. A simple wooden cross with golden accents hung over his bed, his eyes fixated on it. Miguel O’Hara, was a man of faith, he had to be in order to be the priest of his community’s church. He’s poured his whole life, soul and being into his religion, having been raised catholic since he was a mere infant. So why was it that every night, when he’d stared at the cross over his bed, the one that was supposed to protect him, did he start to doubt?

—

Then tell me, Maria, why I see her dancing there?

Why her smoldering eyes still scorch my soul? (cogitatione)

—

It always started the same.

He’d sleep somewhat soundly for a good amount of the night, once he was able to get his mind to stop racing.

He looked so adorable asleep, despite his colossal size.

He moves a lot, so his bed always becomes a bit disheveled, a pillow on the floor or a blanket halfway off the bed. Some light snores and some drool dripping out the corner of his mouth.

How could such a holy man be so delicious looking?

It was 3 am. Witching hour.

“Wake…”

“… up~”

“Wake up.”

—

I feel her, I see her

The sun caught in her raven hair

Is blazing in me out of all control (verb o et opere)

—

Miguel’s eyes shot open. Chest heaving as he takes rapid short breaths, his body covered in a thin layer of sweat. His eyes darting around his dark room in an attempt to find the source of the voice, only lifting his head as he did so.

He knew you were here.

Finally he finds a pair of dark glowing eyes at the foot of his bed, how did he miss it in the first place? He chalks it up to panic. A silence fell over the two of you for what felt like hours, an all too familiar sense of panic (and to Miguel’s horror, slight arousal) filled his senses. Finally, you break the silence.

“My my my… if it isn’t my favorite priest…” You said in a sing-songy tone, as you slowly climbed onto the bed, making Miguel’s stomach twist. He should push you off of him, he should banish you to the depths of hell, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it for some reason. He was paralyzed. You stopped crawling once you were fully over him. “Oh father… help me for I have sinned.” You said in a mocking tone, a shiver ran down his back once again as he let out a shaky breath, feeling your sharp fingernails trail down his chest, and stopping at the waistband of his sweats tugging at the band slightly.

—

Like fire

Hellfire

—

Finally coming to his senses, (much to your dismay) he finally pushes off you. Landing on the floor to the left side of the bed, with a small “oof” as he quickly scrambled to the over side of the bed in or to create distant between the two of you.

“Get out.” Miguel growled as he readjusted his sweats. You didn’t respond, rather, you brought your hand up to move some hair that had gotten into your face as you slowly walked around the bed and towards him. You looked how you always did when you would visit him. You could even be mistaken for a human if it weren’t for the horns, the wings and the long nails.

“Don’t act like that now, father. Aren’t you tired of this little game we play every night?” You asked with a head tilt, continuing to walk towards him as you spoke, your sentence coming out slow and drawn out, your tone nothing but pure seduction. Miguel closes his eyes as if they would deafen your words. Every step you take forward, he takes one back, before the back of his knees eventually hits the back of his bedside table, his hands going behind him to help stabilize himself to keep from falling back on top of it. “You pretend you don’t enjoy this-“

“I don’t.”

“Oh yeah?”

“It’s the truth.”

“Then why, pray tell, are you hard, father?” You smirked as you spoke., eyes drifting down to a very visible bulge in his sweats. “Have I finally done my job? Will this be the night you fall victim to temptation?” You said in a surprised, yet smug tone. Miguel felt his face burn up, a hand going behind him in search of something. “I will say, you do look quite handsome on your knees. I can give you something so much better to worship than God. You just have to give in to me, give in, father. Give in. Give in. Give in. Give. In.” You chant those two words like a mantra, your eyes begin to glow as you got closer, you were at arms length now. Your steps and words came to a sudden halt.

—

This fire in my skin

This burning desire

Is turning me to sin

—

Your eyes narrowed at the rosary Miguel was holding up in front of you in an attempt to protect himself from you.

“That’s not a very nice way to treat your guest.”

“You’re lucky I don’t banish you back to hell where you belong.” His words make you scoff and roll your eyes.

“Oh please, you would never. You and I both know that. Now put that thing down so I can corrupt my favorite human.” You attempted to move closer, only for him to double down. “Tell me Miguel, if you were really gonna ‘banish’ me or whatever. Why haven’t you done so already? I’ve been coming to you for a few weeks now? If you really wanted to get rid of me for good, you would have done so already. You’re a priest for god’s sake-“

“Don’t you dare use the Lord’s name in vain.”

“I’m a demon.” You deadpanned.

He hated to admit that you were right, he hated that he knew that you were. He’s surprised that you haven’t gotten bored in this game of cat and mouse yet. Every night you would appear in his room at the sametime, attempting to seduce him while he spat empty threats at you. Why hasn't he just gotten rid of you yet? It’s not like he doesn’t have the power to do so or the equipment. Maybe he was going insane, maybe he was losing it, or maybe…

No. He couldn’t.

He can’t just throw away his whole life’s work just because a demon who happened to be conventional pretty keeps pestering every night. He couldn’t allow himself to give in to temptation. He wouldn’t allow himself to be corrupted by your glowing eyes that seem like they could stare into his soul forever, or your sultry voice that made his heart skip a beat, your plump lips that would pull up into a smirk whenever you’d question him, how the say you would tilt your head made him weak in the knees- oh how he wish he could worship your body on his knees like you were a goddess- no, fuck.

“Get out.” Miguel repeated, his voice becoming tighter, his knuckles turning white. He takes a step forward, you take one back and frown. “Get. Out!”

He blinks, you're gone.

—

It's not my fault (mea culpa)

I'm not to blame (mea culpa)

It is the gypsy girl the witch who sent this flame (mea maxima culpa)

—

It’s been a few weeks since your last visit, much to Miguel’s surprise. He should be relieved, he should be thanking the heavens up above that he was finally able to extract such a vile presence from his life, he doesn’t feel a pit in his stomach when he enters his own home anymore, it doesn’t feel like the temperature in his room is 20 degrees colder than it is in the hallway leading into it anymore, he doesn’t feel like like there’s this constant ghost lingering over his shoulder anymore. So why wasn't he at peace?

Your lack of presence was almost just as unbearable. In a twisted way, he became accustomed to it. Maybe this was another of your tricks, attempting to perform classic conditioning on him. Get him used to you by the constant attention from your nightly visits, butter him up despite his protest, making his body burn up with the way your touch lingers on his body too long, the way his eyes always drop to your mouth when you lick your lips, the way the word father would leave your lips in a way that made it sound like you’ve just sinned and he was the only one who could help you reach eternal salvation again, just to pull it all away from him within a snap of a finger to see how long it would take for him to crumble. You were Pavlov, and Miguel was just the dog whose mouth started to water at the sound of a bell.

The church was empty besides himself, he was kneeling before the crucifix that was placed next to the portrait of the Virgin Mary, eyes closed, his hands folded together in a fist as he he dips his head down, nose touching his hands as he silently prayed for forgiveness for allowing you to slowly chip away at his self-restraint. He heard the large front door open, he didn’t open his eyes but his head came up as he spoke.

“I’m sorry my child, the church is closed.”

“I needed to see you though, father.”

Miguel’s eyes snapped open. He knew that voice all too well.

—

It's not my fault (mea culpa)

If in God's plan (mea culpa)

He made the Devil so much stronger than a man (mea maxima culpa)

—

“How-“ Miguel was stunned, not only have you reappeared after weeks, you were also standing inside of a church, his church. You looked so beautiful, you looked like an actual human, your nails, although still sharp and point looked more like acrylics rather then claws, you weren’t dawning your bat-like wings and your horns weren’t poking out of your hair, if Miguel had passed by you on the street, he’d be none the wiser. It only made him crack more, imagining what it would be like in a different world where there wasn’t shame and taboo keeping him away from you. Where you aren’t a soulless, heartless creature. “How’s you get in here?” He finally got the question out, his eyes narrowed into slits as he took a step back, almost fumbling his footing and tripping.

“We can enter churches if we find a weak point.” You stated as you made your way towards him, Miguel’s eyes dropped instantly to your hips, how they swayed with each step you take, his mouth went dry and he instinctively licked his lips. “I wonder what that weak point is?” You teased as you stopped in front of him, your lips pulling up into a smirk.

—

Protect me, Maria

Don't let this siren cast her spell

Don't let her fire sear my flesh and bone

Destroy Esmeralda

And let her taste the fires of hell

Or else let her be mine and mine alone

—

He don’t know how it happened, one minute he was standing face to face in front of you, then the next, you both were in his office in the back of the church, you were sitting on top of his desk as he kneeled in front of you, his rough hands wondering and running around your legs, and he planted soft light kisses all over them. In between each one, he’d whispered a small pile of forgiveness from God, but he couldn’t stop himself anymore.

—

Hellfire

Darkfire

Now gypsy, it's your turn

Choose me or your pyre

Be mine or you will burn

—

“You never told me your name…” Miguel mumbled into your skin, his face buried against your inner thigh as he looked up at you.

“You wouldn’t be able to pronounce my actual name. Just… call me (Y/N).” You cooed as you ran a hand through his hair, before bringing it down to his cheek. Miguel leaned into your touch, closing his eyes. He was completely and utterly yours now.

“(Y/N)…” He whispered the name like a prayer.

—

Kyrie eleison

God have mercy on her

Kyrie eleison

God have mercy on me

Kyrie eleison

But she will be mine

Or she will burn

#Spotify #miguel o hara fanfic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #astv miguel #astv spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara au #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 fanfic #spiderman 2099

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weirdkpopgirl · 8 months

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Birthday Cuddles | Jeno Imagine #8

Title: Birthday Cuddles

Genre: Fluff, slight angst

Warnings: the reader doesn't have the most positive mindset?

Word Count: 823

Author's Note: I wrote this a week ago, inspired by my past birthday. Maybe it's a little selfish for me to write something like this, but oh well. Originally this was written with Jaemin in mind, but I've been posting a lot for him and it's kind of a problem. Besides, Jeno's clingy personality suits the idea I had, so it worked perfectly. I hope you guys like it. And if it's your birthday too, perhaps this can make your special day even better ^ ^

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ

As the years have passed, your birthday has become a bittersweet event that has lost its significance to you. With the number of people who have disappeared from your life—some you've even cut off, you simply didn't feel the need to celebrate. Being an introvert didn't help either. Still, as the hours passed, a tiny part of you wondered if anyone remembered your special day.

At least this year the weather mirrored your melancholic mood, as your mind was preoccupied with the stress of college. All the assignments and exams were gradually starting to wear you down.

When you finally returned to your small apartment, you felt nothing but exhausted and disheartened. The first thing you did after hanging up your coat was shed the nice outfit you had carefully put together that morning in exchange for your soft gray pajamas. It wasn’t like you had anything else planned for the day.

Just as you slumped onto the couch with a sigh, your head turned in response to the sound of your door’s passcode being unlocked. You quickly sat up, heart racing, as you spotted the familiar boy in a white hoodie and jeans. In his hand, he held a bouquet of blue and white flowers, and his eyes formed into dark crescents as they locked onto yours.

“Jeno?”

He removed his sneakers and slid into the soft blue slippers you always had set out for him before he made his way to plant a sweet kiss on your forehead. “Happy Birthday, babe.”

You frowned as he handed you the flowers and gave him a quizzical look. “Thank you. But don’t you have a schedule today?””

“Yeah, but we finished earlier than expected. So I asked Manager Noona to drop me off here,” He explained, as he sat beside you. “Now we have the rest of the evening to celebrate!”

Jeno sounded so pleased by the convenient change in his plans, yet you barely managed to smile back. As the person who knew you the best, he saw right through your facade. He could see in your eyes that something was bothering you.

“Do you…not want to celebrate?” his voice lowered.

Though Jeno was aware of your gloomy feelings about your birthday, he had still clung to the hope that things might be different now that you two were together. But he was also one to respect your wishes, even if it meant missing out on a day that was supposed to be meaningful for you.

You shrugged and gently placed the beautiful flowers on the coffee table. Strangely, an overwhelming feeling of wanting to cry spurred as you timidly inquired, “Can we just cuddle, and maybe…you can give me some kisses?”

Jeno’s eyes softened at this request, as he knew you weren’t usually expressive about your desires. Without another word, he wrapped his arms securely around your stomach and held you close. Your bodies molded together in a warm embrace. His kisses were soft and tender, as his lips came in contact with your cheeks, forehead, and lips.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” he asked, wanting to ensure you were okay.

Fiddling with the drawstrings from his hoodie, you shook your head. “No, you’re all I need.”

With that, Jeno and you remained in this affectionate position. He played with your hair, while your head rested on his shoulder as your fingers traced light patterns on his chest. As the calmness of the moment began to consume you, Jeno finally spoke.

"I know this day may not feel special to you," Jeno murmured, "But it's important to me because today is the day my soulmate was born."

Touched by his words, you glanced up at him with teary eyes. “How are you always so perfect?” you mused.

Jeno chuckled and gently kissed your lips again. "I'm not perfect, but I'm perfectly in love with you."

"Oh my gosh, that was so cheesy," you giggled, hiding your face in his chest. Jeno laughed shyly, blushing from his own embarrassment. But he meant what he said.

Your lips met again in a sweet, lingering kiss that left you slowly melting into the warmth of his embrace once more. “But I’m also perfectly in love with you,” you confessed, after pulling away. “Thank you for being with me today.”

Jeno had to resist kissing you again because the urge was incredibly strong. Instead, he held you a little tighter.

“There’s no other place for me than right here, (Y/n),” he said sincerely. It was crazy how much he loved you, and how much you loved him. Though both of you struggled to show it at times, you had these intimate moments where you could appreciate each other.

Jeno was one person in your life who made you feel so loved on your birthday.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ

#nct dream #kpop #nctzen #czennie #nct dream imagines #jeno #lee jeno #jeno x reader #jeno imagines #jeno scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct dream fluff #jeno fluff

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saltygilmores · 2 months

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Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls, Season 3, Episode 8, Part 4: "Let The Games Begin", the part where Lorelai says that if Jess was trapped inside her burning house she would save her shoes first

Lorelai Gilmore, you are no Jack Pearson. I won't complete that thought, even though I'm feeling nice and mean and I totally should.

Scene: Lorelai and Rory are discussing the upcoming road trip to New Haven with the Gilmore Grands. Rory forgot to pack. Lorelai goes into panic mode. Rory questions why she needs to pack her entire closet for a short road trip. Lorelai recounts a family vacation story from her childhood that would be best unpacked in a lengthy therapy session, frets that her mother will lecture them for under-packing, starts rummaging through Rory's dresser. Rory catches Lorelai making a double entendre about a meaty taco and declares it was dirty. The show makes another dig at New Haven after Lorelai brings home a pamphlet about Exciting Things to Do In New Haven but it's only a few pages long.

You sound surprised, as if ya'll aren't wearing heavy coats and long sleeves in the spring and summer. I swear there's something in the drinking water affecting everyone's thyroids in this town, they can't regulate their body temperatures.

Could anyone tell I'm stalling here? Classic Salty.

Rory: Mom, stop rummaging through my shit. Awwwe. Even Evil Villains like Lorelai Gilmore get the blues. I'm surprised she decided to go on this road trip to Yale instead of sending Rory off alone with the Grands, that way she'd have the house and Dean Forrester to herself the entire day. Since Dean's sexual stamina only extends to 1-2 minutes, they could have had sex hundreds of times in a day.

Two quips that sprang to mind (couldn't decided which one was better): The only words Lorelai is thinking about right now are "Dean" and "Shower". Lorelai thinks Jess removed Rory's bracelet while they're in the shower together? Jess could only hope.

Excuse me for a moment... *deep inhale*

I went into the Tumblr gifs library and looked up "peaceful". Here is a nice, presumably not-evil, Peaceful Bunny.

So not only does Jess commit attempted vehicular homicide, and steal Quarters on a String, he steals said QOAS by forcibly ripping them directly off the wrists of poor unsuspsecting delicate young ladies.

Nice try. You think you're so slick, but you're not, Slick Gilly.

You all don't understand the effort it takes for me to break down a scene like this without taking the cowards way out and simply rage quitting (which I have done before). I have to come up with multiple lines of witty, cutting commentary about what is unfolding before me, when all I want to do is KEYBORD SMASH. SO, YOU KNOW WHAT I WILL!! ITS A FREE COUNTRY ISNT IT! BALD EAGLE BASEBALL APPLE PIE! (Deep inhale) sagfshafgahfgasvxzcywtryqwuhajlkansjbkfagsfyafvabsfvsdgr2347527q2y4q#&$T%#^%^#*U@(%)&@tGSHFBSHFSVAGFSFS FUCKYOULORELAIGILMORE#^&#^%&#^WGHFSHGAS@$%@^@

Thank for reminding the audience the reason why Lorelai thinks Jess should, ya know, die painfully and slowly. He was mouthy once. (the Netflix captions borked the line; Rory also said "and wrecked my car", but as if that makes Lorelai's treatment of Future Nephew any more justifable).

I am told that in a later season, Lorelai bemoans the fact that unlike Dean, Jess never offered to change her water bottle for her. NOW WHY WOULD HE DO THAT? YOU'RE ABOUT TO WISH HIM A FIREY DEATH. AND WHEN HE WAS (FORCIBLY) APPOINTED TO CLEAN YOUR GUTTERS YOU DIDN'T WANT HIS HELP..

Lorelai practically moans this, lol. We know "Change the water bottle" can mean two very different things. You ain't so slick, Slick Gilly.

Welcome to Gaslighting and Emotional Manipulation Theater! See, here's the thing Slick Gilly, I watched an entire frigging episode about you accusing Jess of being a thief, it was called Lost and Found and it took me four frigging centuries to finish, I'm quite sure I have concrete evidence that you have accused him of stealing things. I am Jess Mariano's defense attorney and I will see you in court. Bring Rory too, she should also start getting used to what a court room looks like.

Rory, honey. Sweetie. Sugar bear. It's best you don't wish for a crystal ball. Just strap in to the rollercoaster that is dating Jess Mariano while living with your mother, and pray.

See, here's the thing Slick Gilly, I watched an entire frigging episode about you not letting Jess enter your house, it was called Swan Song and it will take me four frigging centuries to rewatch it.

This "Jess talks in grunts" shtick is getting old and moldy.

So not only does Jess commit attempted vehicular homicide, steal Quarters on a String, and steal said QOAS by forcibly ripipng them directly off the wrists of poor unsuspsecting delicate young ladies, but he's also an arsonist, and not only is he an arsonist, he's such a bad one that he'll apparently be killed by his handiwork? (he also can't be trusted to clean gutters). He was probably trying to off himself instead of live in Stars Hollow for another minute. Can we recall another time Rory tried to play this same grim hypothetical with her mom? Does Rory, like Jess, also have some kind of firey death wish? I mean, who can blame either of them. *twinkly flashback music to early season 2*

I notice Pigtails didn't say "my daughter" this time, either. Sorry Rory. Maybe try playing a third time until she answers with "Some form of human life." Lorelai lies to Rory's face that she "promised you before and am promising you again that I will cut "this kid" some slack." Alright, I ran through my 30 screen shots, let's stuff this scene in a sack and throw it into the lake with Shane and her swan family.

Rory: "You're just waiting for the day I break up with Jess." Lorelai The Villain: "Did I like Dean? Yes. Did I worry less when you were with dean? Yes! I never expected you to be with Dean forever. I don't expect you to be with Jess forever." What a pile of rancid baloney. Maybe he won't be with Rory forever, but 13 years later Jess becomes her nephew and will be a part of her family forever and I will never, ever, ever stop loving that. What JUSTICE.

When I hit my lowest of low valleys listening to this wretched woman spew her many lies and Gilly-Nonsense, It's often the only thing that makes me smile.

#jess mariano #literati #gilmore girls #denise rewatches gilmore girls #gilmore girls season 3 #let the games begin #ltgb #now I just have to suffer through the ridiculous shit fit she has at Yale

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saberswordseabass · 8 months

Text

A Hidden Danger; Know your threat (3.5)

Soldiers began to bolt down a dark metal grated floor. The sturdy, metallic walls creak from a minor gravity difference. One of the soldiers shouted something unintelligible to the recording unit. The wall to their right begins to creak louder and warp from stress.

Blast doors begin to lower, trapping the two soldiers in the corridor as the wall bulges like it was hit by a freight train. The soldiers begin to obviously shake as they lower their helmets over their elongated fox like faces. They raise their laser rifles and steady it at the wall bulging.

After another moment, the wall explodes inward, but no explosive decompression followed. A bulky fox robot with stark white, like star-bleached armor, forced its way through. Lasers streak and sizz in the air as the soldiers begin to pelt the robot.

It seemed unfazed by the lasers, only focusing on them when one managed to shoot it in the optic sensor. The graviton ram of its right arm, hissed as it prepared to operate once again, while it raised its left arm, its fingers arcing with a green energy. The bot begins to march towards them intently.

The graviton ram began to glow with a green field as it launched forward with a wet squelch from the soldiers before the video seems to freeze as the recording device manages to show a soldier in horrible mixture of fused into the wall and crushed under a powerful gravitational force.

"So what are you thinking for lunch? I really want to try this Philly cheesesteak that the captive mentioned." A Ursidain spoke, gently scratching their belly as their unruly clothes suggested pirates.

"Eh, doesn't sound awful. You might have t-" The Taurian companion began to state before a warning light began to flash rapidly.

A warning began to echo from the P.A. system; "Prepare to be boarded! Don't recognize the ship, but it is probably the human savior team from the GC. Give them hell!" The P.A. warned as a few moments later, the ship violently shuttered as the boarding vessel rammed them.

The two pirates were caught off guard and had been knocked into the left side wall. "What the hell is wrong with them? Are they insane?!" The Taurian screamed as they grabbed their weapon. Right as they finish that thought, the wall to their right melts like butter. An intimated robot in height, having to lean down to fight in the hallway designed for Ursidains.

"Command: Give up human now, and your lives may be spared." The bot ordered as its stark white armored glistened in the dull, flickering florescent light. It held two massive clamp hands, like originally designed to carry around the cargo pods, but they were paired with some kind of unknown weapon, but the armored canister attached to it suggested a flame based weapon.

The pirates look at each other as the bot stares unmoving at the two, waiting for a reply. The Ursidain nodded to his Taurian companion before unslinging an old earth shotgun and firing a shot into the bot's ribcage area. "Eat ferrus insect!" The Ursidain roared as the bot stumbled back, its inner working exposed from the 'insect'.

"Hostile action has been taken." The bot spoke as its wide footing managed to stabilize. The bot's orange, almost yellow eyes, begun to rapidly shift color to a cool, icy blue. Its arms raise out, and frost began to coat its flamethrower like barrels. An icy stream connects with both organics. The Ursidain looks relatively unharmed but still affected by the flash freezing of his outer layer of fur and fat. His Taurian companion was not as lucky as half of her right side crystallized from the ice-thrower's very napalm; 'Neptunic Nictro'

The Ursidain rushes to close the gap, firing two more shots into the bot, which finally knocks the bot down onto its back. With another shot to it's fox like head makes the machine go limp.

From this device's recording, the screen begins to get hit with many white particulars, giving the recording a grainy resolution. A much smaller bot began to step through the hole left by its bigger cousin. Their rifle, which was glowing blue from an unknown source. Upon readying the gun at the Ursidain, who noticed it too late, the camera grows more grainy. The camera cuts out as the Ursidain attempts to rush the smaller bot, and a split frame of a blue pulse wave echos from its gun.

A deep-seated anger began to fill room, as all recording on each screen paused at a gruesome death. A dull grey fur inquistor sat at a desk in front of the screens. "I've spent 70 years making sure Octarus does not awaken. It is a massive threat to not just us, but all of the GC, if allowed, to get fully operational... again." Gloved hands gently rub the inquistor's face. "And if word gets out that we are the cause, that could cause an end to us, not just as an empire but also a species if what the GC did to the majority of humanity is to be noted."

"Get me on the line with Quilx." The old inquistor spoke to his help, who rushes off, only to return a moment later. "What's wrong?" The older inquistor asks as a worried frown fills his graying brow.

"Sir, Quilx has made a ground expedition to the planet where he believes Octarus' forces have been coming from." That made the old inquistor shoot up, only to grip his chest with a pained expersion. His body was old and failing as he was reaching a century in his Inquisitoral duties.

The help rushed to him before he shooed them away with another pained grunt. "Quilx will die if he steps foot on that planet! Warn him immediately to change his course of operations." The old inquistor gasped as his body forced him back down onto his padded chair.

"Maker, why?" The old inquistor gasped quietly to himself as he stared into space with horror of first-hand experience.

Decided to try another approach to this. I hope you enjoyed it! C&C is very much welcome and appreciated! Again, thank @wolven91 for creating this amazing universe to allow me to create this weird word soup :>

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #hfy #humans are space orcs

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holdinbacksecrets · 2 years

Note

i second hannie soccer player bf au lol! <3

nearly there… here’s college jeonghan part 2. part 3 will finally feature ~soccer and get us one step closer to boyfriend >.< part 1

tw: mentions of blood

jeonghan saved you the seat beside him. it’s not something he’s ever done before; you’re usually early enough to slide into it without a second thought, but today is off. it’s easy for him to tell as you trudge into the lecture hall.

you rub your temple as soon as you’re seated, not realizing he removed his bag from the plastic just before you fell into it.

“rough morning?”

“you could say so.”

“does it have anything to do with our midterm paper?”

“is it kicking your ass too?”

“actually, i wrote it two weeks ago. our soccer schedule is complete marbles over the next couple weeks. it was easier to knock it out early.”

“complete marbles?”

“yeah, like bonkers or crazy. i don’t know, my sister says it, rubbed off on me.”

you smile, feeling fondness bloom. he hasn’t seen your smile since last friday when he noticed you in the stands at his game.

your intrigued hum is the only response he receives as the professor’s greeting quiets the room.

moments before class begins, jeonghan taps the edge of your desk, earning your attention swiftly. “let me know if you need a second pair of eyes.”

your laptop comes to life. its light coats your face and captures specks of amber in your eyes. “i thought you’re about to be busier than marbles?”

jeonghan bites his lip, and you realize how terribly you fumbled his words.

“writing a ten page paper and reading yours once it’s finished are two different things. i’ll text you my email.”

“thank you, jeonghan.”

your sleep deprivation serves as a darker cloud than the ones rolling past the window, pouring rain across your campus, darkening the pavement, and challenging the fountain on the north end as water threatens to spill over and flood a flowerbed.

jeonghan wants to say something else, tell you not to bother because he’ll send you a copy of his own notes, but that would be too much for one day— for one class.

he’s still figuring out what exactly is going on here because he knows about your roommate’s crush on seokmin, but is there another reason why you join her at every home game? is it more than friendly support?

he was hoping to see even the slightest glimpse of excitement from you this morning, whether it matched the handful of royal blue bows worn throughout the hall or be a shirt with your school’s name stitched into its cotton. his number on a jersey you can purchase at the bookstore was the best case scenario, but that would be marbles.

your next class is close to jeonghan’s. now that he’s switched to liberal arts, the two of you are seeing far more of each other.

“have you decided on a major yet?”

“not quite. i was thinking about anthropology, but my roommates gave me shit for that, asked what the hell i would do after graduation.”

“really? i didn’t take you as someone who bends so easily.”

“why’s that?”

your fingers wrap around the straps of your backpack, catching a loose thread on a hanging nail you hadn’t noticed in your morning rush.

“you seem so sure of yourself, so autonomous. our university has two hundred majors in the school of liberal arts, so i can’t say anthropology is without a doubt the right choice for you, but you like it. you like your red hair too right?”

“sure.”

“would you dye it back because your roommate said it looked like someone dipped you in gochujang?”

jeonghan’s lips spread into a smile, and you wonder if there’s a rainbow hanging above his head, if the clouds are parting.

“no, i wouldn’t.”

sunbeam.

“exactly.”

you reach the steps of Snow Hall, and jeonghan nods toward the stone building. “this is me.”

“and that’s me,” you reply smoothly, motioning to the hall covered in vines and moss.

“i’ll see you tonight? unless you plan on locking yourself up in your bedroom to write a midterm.”

“are you crazy? those soccer stands are far too tempting.”

“the soccer stands, huh?”

you smile before feeling a sudden pain from your finger, drawing your attention away from jeonghan. specks of blood appear where your nail had been snagged, and you take a step back.

“mhmm, i have a thing for cold metal. i’ll see you tonight.”

you’re moving away too quickly to catch his goodbye. it’s silenced by the resonant conversations of students walking by.

your finger is covered in blood by the time you make it to your seat. without a bandaid in sight, you have no other choice but to suck it away.

surely jeonghan had a bandaid in his backpack. he probably has an entire first aid kit beneath his books, right beside a few spoons, and extra blue bows in case a certain someone in his environmental ethics class ever needs one.

like a precognition, your phone vibrates: the administration office on the second floor has bandaids and lollipops. i’d stay away from the lollipops, though. pretty sure they expired in 1995.

#jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan reactions #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan drabbles #jeonghan blurbs #jeonghan oneshot #jeonghan fic #jeonghan imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff

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spookyscarydemonbabe · 2 years

Text

Kiss It Better

A/N- I've seen so many people talking about a Gareth fic where the reader helps him after Jason beats him up but I haven't seen any being posted! I guess I'm glad to be the first

Summary- Gareths neighbor comes over to see him with blood on his face and a nearly broken hand and decides to help fix him up

Genre- Fluff

Warnings- Mentions of blood

Tag List- @imagine-all-the-imagines @ahzysauce

Words- 2.2k

As you were finishing this week’s homework at your desk in your bedroom, you heard a loud crash that seemed to come from just outside.

Being neighbors with Gareth, you knew that him and the other members of his band would get loud, but it was nothing like what you just heard. As you kept listening out your window you could hear yelling, from Gareth and another guy, you weren’t quite sure who, but you could definitely recognize the voice.

You heard speeding tires a few moments later and looked out your window, seeing Jeff and Grant helping Gareth up, his drum set almost destroyed behind him.

The two of you wouldn’t consider yourselves close by any means but growing up across the street from each other gave the two of you a pretty strange relationship. You would call him a friend, but the only time you spend together was at block parties or hanging out when your parents had dinner but really nothing more than that. Still, you cared for him.

He seemed a bit intimidating at first, but in reality, he was just quiet and shy. You knew how sweet he could he just from watching him play with his sisters and he wouldn’t hurt a fly.

You quickly slipped your shoes on and made your way downstairs, just wanting to make sure he was ok. It was out of the ordinary for you to just go up and talk to him out of the blue but whatever happened you could definitely tell he was hurt.

“Hey,” you said as you made your way up his driveway, “are you ok?”

He shook his head, looking at the hand that was just covering his nose, seeing the fresh blood coating his fingertips,

“Jason…”

“Oh shit…” You took a few steps forward and looked at his cheek, a large cut and his nose had a small trickle of blood flowing from it, his face was swollen too, “do you need any help?”

He nodded as his friends let go of his arms. He tried to balance himself as his friends started picking up the different parts if his drum kit off the garage floor to put it back together,

“You guys clean that up, (y/n) would you help me inside?”

You nodded and grabbed his arm, slowly leading him inside.

Though you’d been over a handful of times, you’d never seen it empty. Every time you were over in the past it was either decorated for whatever holiday party your parents had dragged you to or filled with adults, but every time you and Gareth always found a way to spend time together. You’d go up to his room and watch whatever movies he rented for the week or listen to music and talk. One night a few months ago, the two of you were able to sneak off into the garage away from the parents and share a joint, talking about how strange it was to grow up across the street from each other your whole lives and yet you only ever hung out when your parents got together.

You’d wished that your next hang out was under different circumstances, though it was strange to be left all alone with him without having to worry about your parents finding you.

You had to admit, living across the street from Gareth definitely had its perks. You got to see his band during their rehearsals, you watched him play in the front yard with his sisters, and you had to admit he looked pretty cute when he was mowing the lawn shirtless in the summertime. And he could say the same about you. He got to see you in your driveway when your mom insisted on taking pictures on the first day of school every year, he was able to see your reaction when you got your first car, and he loved the view from his bedroom into your backyard, especially when you were lounging around in a skimpy bathing suit.

Most of the time he had to fight with himself over whether or not he should sneak a picture on his polaroid to keep all for himself.

He did feel a bit strange to be left all alone in his house with you, but now all he was focused on was making sure his blood didn’t drip onto the carpet.

You led him into an upstairs bathroom and sat him on the edge of the tub as you searched through the medicine cabinet and vanity drawers, looking for something to try and clean him up.

“Where do you guys keep your band aids?” You said, pulling out a bottle of antiseptic and a few cotton pads from under the sink.

Gareth pointed to the medicine cabinet, and you were able to find them, along with a bottle of Tylenol.

You set everything onto the counter and took one of the washcloths next to the sink, soaking it with cold water and handing it to Gareth to clean himself up. He winced as he pressed the cold fabric to his face, his hand red and bruised, struggling a bit to keep the cloth stable as he pressed it to his face.

“Here,” You sat in front of him and took the cloth from his hand, gently pressing it to the side of his face to try and let the cold ease the pain as it soaked up the bit of blood still trailing from his lip, “better?”

He nodded, and you gave him a shy smile as you sat there cleaning him up. The small spot of blood was able to be cleaned up pretty easily, thankfully it was nothing too severe, but the cut on his lip and the bruise on his cheek were another story. His hand would definitely need some ice too, especially with the condition it was in.

You removed the cloth from his face and set it onto the counter, grabbing the bottle of antiseptic and a few cotton pads. You soaked the pads and set the bottle back onto the counter,

“This is gonna sting a little bit, ok?”

He took a deep breath and groaned as you pressed it gently to his lip, dabbing at it just a bit to clean it.

“It’s not so bad,” He said, trying to ease the tension as the two of you were so close together, “hurts a lot less than a punch.”

You softly giggled at how he managed to still make you laugh while he was so hurt. It was cute that he was trying to mask his pain, but you knew that he was hurting much more than he led on.

“Alright, I think the bleeding stopped, but you definitely need some ice on that hand.” You took his injured hand carefully into yours to look at it. It was red, bruised, and you could tell he was going to be in pain for the next couple of days, “I think you’ll live though.”

“Oh, thank god,” He said as the two of you stood up, his hand still in yours, “I was worried we’d have to amputate.”

You giggled again as you gently let go of his hand, putting away the cotton pads and antiseptic before pulling out a Band-Aid to put against his lip,

“Well, if you think it’s that bad, I can always just use a knife from the kitchen and save you some money.”

He tried to smile but winced from the cut on his lip. You opened the band aid and gently put it over the cut, your fingertips gently brushing over his lips, and you could see the faintest pink over his cheeks.

“There. How do you feel?”

“A little better… Still hurts but I think if I put some ice on it for a bit, I’ll be alright.”

The two of you exited the bathroom and made your way back downstairs into the kitchen.

“You sit, I’ll get you some ice.”

You rummaged through his freezer as he took a seat at the kitchen table. He looked at his hand and winced again as he tried to move his fingers, but you quickly stopped it as you sat next to him, two ice packs in your hand,

“Here, this one goes on your hand,” You said, placing one of the ice packs on top of his hand on the table, “and this one goes…” you said as you gently placed the other onto his cheek, “there.”

You smiled as he held the other ice pack to his cheek, his fingers gently brushing over yours as he held it. He smiled, laughing to himself.

“What’s so funny?” You asked him with a shy smile.

“It’s nothing, it sounds kinda weird…”

“It’s fine,” You said with a giggle, “it can’t be that bad.”

“Well, um…” He looked down at the icepack in his hand, trying not to look up at you, “it’s just been a while since you had to help fix me up you know? Got that weird déjà vu feeling of when we were little and fucking around in the street and I fell over on the curb and skinned my knee really bad.”

You giggled as you remembered that day, there was a block party, and all the kids were running in the street trying to pop all the giant bubbles from one of the other neighbors’ bubble machines. You couldn’t have been older than seven, and you and Gareth kept trying to see who could pop the most and while he was chasing after one, he wasn’t looking and tripped over the curb.

“Yeah, we didn’t want your parents to find out and get us in trouble for messing around in the street. I think I used that same bottle of antiseptic stuff; it looked pretty old.”

“I think so, yeah. Its weird, it felt almost the same, except it was my face that got all fucked up and not my knee.”

You smiled and gently bit your lip, looking down at his hand on the table,

“Yeah, and I didn’t try and kiss it all better like our moms did when we got hurt.”

The two of you sat there in silence for a moment. It was a bit awkward, and you both could tell you had the same thing on your mind.

“You know…” Gareth looked back up at you, breaking the silence, his cheeks and nose glowing the brightest shade of pink, “it might help a little bit.”

You looked back up at him, though your eyes darted back and forth between his eyes and his lips, and his did the same.

You couldn’t tell who moved first, but the two of you slowly inched closer to one another and before you could even process it, your lips were on his.

It was soft, gentle, and though it only lasted a few moments you could feel a gentle spark between you. You had barely seen each other as you grew older, only spending time together at neighborhood functions, and now you were kissing in his kitchen. Neither of you were sure of what to call this new ‘relationship’ you had, but whatever it was, it was nice.

As your lips parted, you both quickly looked to the garage door as Jeff and Grant made their way into the house,

“Hey man, we got your kit put all back together, I don’t think anything’s broken,” Jeff said as he shut the garage door behind him, looking back at the two of you at the table, your faces bright red and your eyes wide with the adrenaline of almost being caught, “you guys alright?”

“Yeah, you look kinda weird.” Grant said with a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah were totally fine,” You said, trying to ease the tension from you and Gareth, “I was just going.” You stood up from the table and looked back down at Gareth, “I’ll see you around.”

You said with a smile, waving to him and his friends as you quickly left through the garage door.

“(Y/n)!” Gareth called out to you as he followed you out, reaching for your hand, but wincing once again as he forgot all about the pain, he was feeling in it, “You know um… You don’t have to if you don’t want to but, I was just thinking that maybe when my hand isn’t all fucked up, and my face is looking… like this,” he said with a nervous laugh, “maybe you’d want to um… do something?”

You giggled at his nervousness. He seemed so eager to kiss you and yet just asking you out made him so flustered; it was cute to see how nervous you made him even after watching each other grow up right across the street from one another.

You took a step forward and gave him another gentle kiss, catching him by surprise,

“Yeah, I’d love to.” You said with a smile, leaning in just a bit closer to him, whispering, “Tell your friends its rude to stare.” You gave him another gentle wave as you made your way down his driveway and back to yours.

He turned and saw Jeff and Grant standing in the doorway to the garage. Jeff smiled and approached him, wrapping his arm around his shoulder,

“Nice job man! I guess girls are into guys with scars.”

_______________________________________________

If you’d like to read more of my work, make sure to check out my masterlist 🥰

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #gareth emerson #gareth emerson x y/n #gareth emerson fic #gareth emerson fanfic #gareth emerson x reader #gareth emerson fluff

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cocomere · 3 months

Note

hello i have made more fanart but i actually like it this time

also i finished reading fool's gold and. why. why did you do this 😭

first off we have my wonderful child innit (yes i've adopted it, no there's nothing you can do about it)

secondly i tried to draw Vio. surprisingly the thing i was most overwhelmed about was the jewelry. i just couldn't cope with the lack of hair so i gave him some more hair.

the first one is with the colours i picked and the second one is "canon" colouring. i wasn't entirely sure what his tail or the triangle pin looks like but i tried. yes i used the splatter tool for the marking i tried drawing them by hand but it looked terrible. i also tried to include the second joint in how he bends his arms. originally i has the lab coat's colour to be more obnoxious than the one you had picked but it hurt my eyes so i changed it

also i noticed the mention of his second pair of eyelids a lot. so he has a nictitating membrane? i'm assuming that's what it is, since it fits the description and the way those open/close would be considered wrong (from left to right instead of up and down)

if it is a nictitating membrane- i remember seeing somewhere that his planet had glass(?) storms, so i was wondering if that protects his eyes like a camel's protects its eyes during a sandstorm? sorry i just find this sort of- not world. uh species-building interesting lol

!!! MORE ART FOR THE FRIDGE AYYYYY

You aren’t the only one to adopt Innit. Askblog is interesting. You can see the evolution of Daz in it, too!! I did it because I feed on reader’s tears :3c Also, Innit Going Away was pretty much inevitable. There was no way for it to be on the askblog suddenly without it having vanished, because Innit was created LONG after Daz had been introduced. I had to work backwards to figure out what would have made that happen. I think the answer is kind of heartbreaking, ngl, but like...I don’t see another way it could have turned out. It led to some fun content tho!

Oh, right, you didn’t see the very top. The canon colors are to give a better idea of what I had in mind. Sky blue could mean a LOT of different shades! I know that actually drawing with those PRECISE colors might be difficult, and I have a disclaimer about “yes, I know it could shift in Actual Art, this is just to have a solid baseline to work off of.”

The tail is more like an alligator’s, and it’s the spines along the top of it that can go flat or Not Flat as he so chooses.

And, yes, that’s what I mean by that lmao. I honestly didn’t consider it re:glass storms, but you’re right! That’d definitely help with those, as well as with general sand blowing about.

I loooooove world and species building. It’s SO fun to really dig into the minutiae of how do these things work and WHY? Vio has a lot of really interesting quirks in particular-- like, magic is basically poison to him. A LOT of enchantments either don’t work at all or cause a huge backlash if he tries to use them (water-based ones in particular. That’s why he hates tridents lmao). Others only kinda-sorta work. Silk touch is one that straight up has zero effect. Even with a properly enchanted pick, it fails to activate. This will eventually become a plot point in the rewrites, hehe!

I have a lot of lore sunk into Sanctuary itself (and a fair bit of it is in Sibling Acceptance Rituals and onwards!!) as well as Blood & Gold. A LOT of stuff that never actually made it into any fic was figured out! For instance, one of the few things bgWilbur DIDN’T lie about was his mom being Lady Death. This comes up in a few AUs, but not in the main timeline nor Welcome To The Inn/Creepypasta.

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cryxtal-moon · 2 years

Text

hey stranger | knj

Summary: It would be nice to know his name.

Genre/warnings: writer!Namjoon, editor!reader, slice of life au, strangers to lovers, fluff, set on a train, no dialogue

Word count: 1k

Pairing: Namjoon x reader

Author’s note: Inspired by a song by Madds Buckley titled Hey Stranger. It’s amazing; I highly encourage listening to it here (time stamp, 00:00). Namjoon's name isn't mentioned, but the stranger is him, as you can tell. I hope you like it >_<

Autumn.

It was the season of change, blazing maple leaves painted in fiery tones cascading off a nearby tree branch with one sweep of a gentle breeze. Some drifted to your feet, pausing only for a moment in their pirouettes across the floor before the wind picked up again, bringing about not only a new destination for the vibrant foliage, but also a stranger whom you had been seeing over the last couple of weeks.

Hey stranger.

His brown hair was a shade lighter than that of the falling maple, styled and flopping gently against dark lashes while revealing quite a bit of his sun-kissed forehead. You stood on one side of a door, and he stood at another, the same positions you had always taken as though you were going to perform a dance with the platform as your stage.

But never once did you move, nor say a single word.

It’d be nice to know your name.

You could only watch out of the corner of your eyes the way his tan coat fluttered about in the air while the desire to say something burned with an ever-present desperation in your chest. A swatch of sapphire blue peeked out around its edges, coating the entirety of a button down he paired with black jeans falling loosely around his ankles. The beret he tugged over his head only made him look like that much more of an artist, not a writer like you knew him to be.

Waiting on our nightly train, we trade glances everyday,

His briefcase gave him away, gold letters inscribed on brown leather reading Mono Publishings which was undoubtedly custom-made. It blended seamlessly against the neutral pastels of his ensemble, briefly admiring the glint of light off those words till you realised you were now gazing at him fully.

And apparently, when you looked up, so was he.

You ignored the heat searing your cheeks as you swiftly turned away.

And I can’t help but imagine how I’d mess it up if I said “hey”,

The train pulled to a smooth stop in front of you just then, and you hated your mind for excitedly noting his gentlemanly gesture of letting you on board first, hanging back despite no one alighting.

But I wanna know you all the same.

Hey stranger, it’d be nice to know your name.

⊱✿⊰

Hey stranger,

I notice every book you read.

Three seats down was where he sat.

The clasps of his briefcase snapping open, you marvelled at the metallic clicks echoing off the walls a notch louder than the mechanical hum of the wheels against the tracks. In the reflection of his figure on glass windows, he removed a book, one you instantly recognised to be a personal favourite, pristine and bookmarked on your shelf at home.

You finish them so fast,

I could never match that speed.

Me Before You by Jojo Moyes. Just another volume in his seemingly endless collection of stories. You could only aimlessly guess where he was at, a gap within the pages that just surpassed the halfway mark.

The Little Prince was yesterday’s choice. Tomorrow would be different, too.

So I can’t even find a way,

To start a conversation with “hey, I’ve read that one too!”

Was it fate? Or coincidence? These things were all a mystery, identical to his name, and the place your courage hurried off to.

But I wanna know you all the same,

Hey stranger, it’d be nice to know your name.

⊱✿⊰

I’m a coward in sheep’s clothing,

Cause I watch, and wait, and hope, and pray.

You could have found a distraction in the fading light of sunset shining out across the city ahead of you, a shimmering gold brightening the tips of rooftops and the horizon line threatening to be overcome by azure. You could have watched the moving shadows disappear each time the train dashed past a skyscraping building, the sun vanishing and reappearing like it stopped to blink for a fleeting moment. And you most definitely could have pulled out your earphones to listen to some piano songs, rather than the peaceful silence enveloping the carriage with its warm embrace.

But the auric glow was the same one illuminating his silhouette, his slanted stature cast against the opposite row of cushioned seats nearly melding with yours. Music, well, that was relative; the soothing tunes of paper rustling was enough of a melody, indicating each turn of a page and occasionally paired with a chuckle in accordance to the beat of the train’s consistent rhythm.

None of which you would have caught by being uselessly distracted.

All the hours we’ve spent seats apart,

I could have tested fate.

⊱✿⊰

I’m a fool,

Who watches you,

Get off at the stop before mine.

It was so painful how you claimed to know this stop better than you knew him, only because it was his.

Clematis Avenue, those gorgeous purple blooms decorating the edges of the platform benches, were a beautiful yet heart wrenching sight. You were powerless to stop him, and even more so to hope he wouldn’t recognise the familiarity this station brought him. Because he did, every time.

I’ll see you tomorrow…

You bid your first goodbye to the book he placed back inside his briefcase. There was no way you’d see it again – he would have finished it before the strike of midnight – but you knew the same couldn’t be said about him, and that gave you the confidence to look at his retreating figure.

Precisely when he looked back.

…but as you go, we catch each other’s eyes.

⊱✿⊰

Hey stranger,

Before you hopped off the train…

A hand clasped itself over your heart…

…why’d you wave, why’d you wave at me,

With a smile on your face?

…the image of him smiling as he offered a wave of goodbye forever ingrained in your mind.

My heart is doing cartwheels,

And there’s a fuzzy feeling in my brain.

You didn’t glance elsewhere, even as the train began to move, afraid that if you did, the moment would have been ruined and faded with the final descent of the sun behind a vast ocean.

I wanna know you all the same,

Tomorrow, it’d be nice to catch your name.

Tomorrow, you decided.

I wanna know you all the same,

Tomorrow, you’d find out his name.

Hey stranger, it’d be nice to know your name.

#bts #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts reactions #kim namjoon #namjoon #kim namjoon imagine #namjoon imagine #kim namjoon x reader #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon fluff #namjoon fluff #kim namjoon scenarios #namjoon scenarios

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fuck-customers · 2 years

Note

Garden center anon here

There's this woman, probably mid sixties, and to say there is something deeply wrong with her is the understatement of this century. We have had problems with her in the past because she loves to buy trees that will be absolute behemoths for her tiny condo. The condo association has literally told her she is not allowed to have them (for good reason!) but nope here she is with a fucking Colorado blue spruce (mature height is like 50 ft to give you an idea of how much this baby needs its space) and an arborvitae (about 25 ft tall on average but can go waaaay bigger). And not ONLY has she gotten the most condo-inappropriate plants you could possibly think of, but she was calling us daily because this fucker had decided to keep them in their nursery pots, which they had already outgrown, for a year, and she was surprised that the plants ended up with pest insects. No matter how many times myself and the manager, both horticulurists by trade with a half a century of experience between us, told her they need to be planted and then here is this spray, make sure to water regularly. Every day she would call and be concerned over the same thing (but would recall exactly what we told her yesterday) and this went on for MONTHS, nearly our entire season. She would even bring in bits of branches that looked like they'd been ripped off (cuz yeah, everything likes pieces of themselves yanked off their bodies right) to show us what we had already diagnosed. It's like she was fishing for a new answer so she was trying the same question, just phrased differently, over and over and was stunned that we kept our stories straight! Shocker!

Fast forward to now, it was a really rainy day and we see her brightly colored little car pull up and my coworker and I nearly start sobbing. She walks in in her floor length puffy winter coat, with a tank top, a skirt, flip flops and leg warmers??? and begins asking us if we can inspect these sugar pumpkins for bruises (pumpkin...doesnt....bruise???!!!) and I pretend I've inspected them thoroughly and yup, no bruises here. She asks where our bathroom is. We point to it. She is in their for about 12 minutes and I'm dreading what is going on in there. Comes back out, is asking about how to keep pumpkins from bruising 😭😭😭 asks all sorts of weird questions about just the stuff we are doing (which was like, spot-watering plants or dusting the shelves cuz we are bored) and just isn't leaving! Asks where our bathroom is AGAIN! And is in there for a couple minutes. Finally she takes her fuckin pumpkins and leaves. I've finished everything for today so I sit down and pull some crochet work out of my backpack.

I heard my coworker go "mother...fucker" and look up to see that damn car pull back in. It is 5:49 and we close at 6. She asks for our bathroom AGAIN!!! IT'S BEEN TWENTY MINUTES!!! Ends up getting another sugar pumpkin. And then she just...wouldnt leave. She kept hanging around and asking weird questions about things we are doing. We are visibly uncomfortable. And then she goes "is it 6?" And I lie and say yup, just turned 6, we're closed (it was like 5:58). And she just is like, okay, bye. And walks out.

Did this fucker just PURPOSELY come back with the intention of holding us hostage til close???? Why do older, lonely people think they get to force themselves on retail workers?

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wowpindrop · 7 months

Text

Unavoidable | Doctor!James Acaster (& others)

For: anon

Request:

Basically for this first request, gonna be a little strange but I had a dream that James Acaster was Doctor Who and his companions were Josh Widdecombe and Ed Gamble and I was the Doctors child and was wondering if you could write something including fluff based on it? But instead of me it’s the Teen!reader obviously, I’m 18 and Gender-Fluid and use all pronouns, any and all pronouns would be great in regarding the reader.

Notes:

Hi anon! I'm so srry this has taken me so long to do, but I lost the first draft so I had to redo it :[. But it's finished now! I literally love the idea sm, James as the doctor would be so hectic I cannot. I've decided to keep Ed and Josh's names the same so it isn't confusing but James is obvs referred to as the doctor. I hope it's alright. Also if you wanna be tagged in future fics that i post, dm me n ill add u to the list. Happy reading!

Tags:

@frankieray

Summary:

The doctor makes a foolish mistake leading to you getting injured on an adventure, he is quick to make sure you're alright and to assure you it won't happen again.

TW: SLIGHT BLOOD AND INJURY (BUT ITS ALL FLUFFY AT THE END)

It was unexpected when you heard the bullet go off behind you. Yes, you knew the aliens you were currently facing weren't cowards- it wasn't as if they were too scared to shoot.

It was just surprising that they shot you.

You weren't in their direct line of fire, it would've been simpler to maybe shoot Josh, or even the Doctor, but yet here you were.

The Doctor. Your doctor.

He had found you on one of his adventures, complete coincidence. It just happened that he was your biological father, not that you has any idea.

The gangly man had a very different personality to your more serious, stoic nature. You wouldn't have guessed, not by looking at you both anyway.

His, happy, bubbly nature. Constantly bouncing around the TARDIS, occasionally bumping into the control panel, and swearing under his breath, much to the enjoyment of Ed and Josh, the two men who the Doctor had decided to travel with as companions.

That's why it was so surprising that the aliens didn't shoot the Doctor, the amount of attention he was bringing to himself on the deck of the spaceship anyway.

The ringing in your ears began to subside.

You looked down.

Your raised a shaking hand to eye level, to see it coated in a dark shade of your blood.

Your breathing quickened as you realised.

Then your legs gave way.

The last thing you saw before the darkness was the Doctor swearing loudly before yelling orders at Ed and Josh, flailing his limbs frantically.

You could feel the blood slowly oozing out of your wound as your eyes began to close. The Doctor rushed to your side, kneeling. His hand finding the side of your face.

"Stay with me. Fucking hell please stay with me."

Your eyes fluttered open to bright white lights. They made you squint as you began to sit up, wincing at the pain in you side. You leant on your elbows as you looked around the infirmary of the TARDIS, somewhere you had gotten acquainted with after dangerous adventures with your father.

None had been as severe as this.

They were usually minor things: cuts, grazes that sort of thing.

Ever still, the Doctor would stress, worrying about every tiny injury you had. Long slender fingers plastering up even the slightest paper cut.

You turned to your left, to see the Doctor asleep in a chair. Messy auburn hair covering his eyes as he snored, out of place. The outfit he wore was dirty with dust and grime.

He was snoring lightly, his mop of hair shaking slightly with each inhale. Just another one of his many quirks.

You attempted to stand, throwing your legs over the side of the hospital-esc bed. As you did the Doctor stirred, waking.

He saw you trying to get up and started to panic a bit.

"No, you have to lie down, you took a heavy blow out there man."

You huffed and lay back down, looking up to see his blue eyes laced with concern and worry.

"Dad I'm fine. Its only minor."

"Minor? You were bleeding out, you were lucky you didn't end up with any more damage that was already done."

You rolled your eyes in defeat as the Doctor began to check the gauze that covered the wound.

"I don't know what I would've done if you didn't make it back kid." He said after a while, slender fingers pulling back down your shirt, which now had a fairly large red rimmed hole in it.

"Well I'm fine aren't I." You responded with a slight smile.

"It should've been me, I wasn't paying attention, I put you in danger I'm so sorry-" he began to reel off apologies until you grabbed his hand to make him look at you.

"Dad! I'm ok. It wasn't your fault. None of us could've guessed that would've happened. Don't blame yourself."

A little while later, Ed and Josh entered, worry plastered on their faces. They were relieved to see you awake.

"Bloody hell y/n." Ed chuckled darkly "you got pretty banged up."

"Yeah well, I'm good as new now." You responded, chuckling.

"And im so glad you are." The Doctor whispered, squeezing your hand.

#james acaster #britcom #ed gamble #taskmaster #off menu #british comedians #british comedy #josh widdicombe #doctor!james acaster x reader #james acaster x reader #companion!ed gamble #companion!josh widdicombe #quinn's fics

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inkstainedhandswithrings · 1 year

Text

Touch Starved

A/N: Hi all you lovely people! I'm here with another out of context one-shot that will connect to a larger fix-it fic that I will hopefully post here one day! A HUGE thank you to the absolutely lovely @saturn-sends-hugs for beta reading this and giving me feedback! This wouldn't be the piece it is without you, love!! <333

warnings: mentions of death, grief, emotional vulnerability. mostly just fluff with sad overtones tho :)

pairing: Captain Rex x f!OC Nevaeh Requa

summery:Nevaeh returns to Coruscant after a siege and finds her apartment to be too quiet. A certain Captain seems to be having a similar problem.

masterlist

It was a quiet night on Coruscant. The 501st had just returned from a siege, alongside Nevaeh and her own battalion. They were granted an extended shore leave and Fives had invited Nevaeh and Rose to come to 79's with them.

It wasn't the first time he had asked either. They had refused him in the past, but after coming home and taking a nap, both women soon found themselves not only bored, but overwhelmed with the vast difference between the volume of battle and the almost silent apartment on Coruscant.

Rose had finally decided on going with them, but Nevaeh was still reluctant.

She felt a little bad about turning Fives down again, because she cared about the clones she'd gotten to work with and she knew she would enjoy spending some time with them off the battlefield. But her new rank as General left her nervous about appearances. Perhaps it was vain of her, since she didn't have that problem as a Commander. Then again, that felt like a lifetime ago.

Either way, the apartment was too quiet, so she grabbed her headphones, boots and coat and made her way outside for a walk.

The area their apartment was in wasn't all bad. It was on the top level of Coruscant, military district. Not far from the clone barracks.

They realized this when they went out to the grocery store and the only people they met there were admirals and other high ranking nat-born officers. No clone troopers inside, though. They later met one from the 104th outside. Nevaeh remembered he introduced himself as Sinker. He had helpfully pulled up a map of Coruscant and shown off the different districts in the area and on the level. He'd finished with a wink and a cheap line.

"Barracks are right around the corner if you need anything else, ladies."

Nevaeh smiled at the memory. Secretly, she hoped to soon work with the 104th, so that she'd be re-introduced to Sinker as General Requa. Just to see his face.

Not realizing how far she'd wandered while lost in thought, Nevaeh saw that she'd made it to one of the passageways down into the planet's core. She stepped up to the railing, her chilled hands falling on top of the cold bar. As fascinated as ever, she watched as the ships rose and descended.

Nevaeh didn't like Coruscant because of its absence of nature and tranquility. Its energy felt rotten to her. A planet turned into one city, invested by too many people for it to bear. How the Jedi lived here full time she would never understand.

Regardless, this part, for some reason, she liked. The ships rising and descending from and to the planet's core somehow reminded her of an amusement park. She smiled fondly, remembering her sister back home. They had always loved the rides. Maybe she should try this one.

She was pulled out of her revere when her eyes wandered to the side and she became aware of a figure standing nearby, watching the ships like she was.

It only took her a second to notice the clone armor, marked with the deep, blue 501st paint. In the next second she noticed the kama on the trooper's hips and the jaig-eyes on the helmet he was loosely holding in his hands.

Pulling her headphones off and letting them rest on her shoulders, Nevaeh approached Rex, grazing a soft hand over his shoulder to get his attention.

"Hey, Rex," she said, but jumped back as he tried to seize her wrist.

Facing her, recognition lit up in his eyes and he quickly composed himself. "General Requa! Apologies, I wasn't... I didn't realize..."

"No, no," she quickly waved him off. "It was my mistake. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

A silence fell over them as Rex looked down and off to the side, unsure what to do. He had his hands clasped behind his back and was standing a bit ridgedly, somewhere between parade rest and standing normally. Noticing this, Nevaeh tried to cut through some of the tension.

"You also out on a walk?" she asked.

Rex looked at her surprised, before stammering out and answering. "Uh, yes, Sir. Something like that. Jus'... barracks and office felt a bit too quiet tonight, s'all."

Neaveh nodded thoughtfully, a tired smile on her lips. She turned back around and let her forearms rest on the railing to watch the ships again. "Yeah, I get that. Rose is out with some of your boys from Torrent right now. Couldn't handle the silent apartment either."

Coming to stand next to her, still very much rigid and uncomfortable, Rex followed her line of sight. "They took her to 79's then, Sir?"

Nevaeh chuckled. "Sure did. You really know your men if you can guess where they went."

Rex went quiet again, a hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. "Well, uhm... it's... it's not that hard to predict, Sir. 79's is the only place we can really go to."

"How come?" she asked, thinking nothing of it.

"The Republic picks up the tab for our drinks. Not... not all drinks, the cheap stuff, nothing fancy. Gets you drunk though," he explained.

Nevaeh gave him a puzzled look. "Your pay's that bad? Or do you guys just drink more than us?" She tried to ask in a casual way, but her meaning wasn't lost on either of them.

Rex wasn't sure how to answer. Or rather, he wasn't sure that any answer he could give would prevent her from getting upset. But he couldn't really ignore a question from a superior officer, so he searched for the words. "We... We don't get paid at all, Sir. The drink tab is about it."

At that she whipped around, fast enough for Rex's hand to land on his blaster. He cursed his own instincts, knowing that she wasn't a threat. A month on the battlefield had made him more skittish than he'd like to admit.

"You don't get paid at all?"

"No, Sir."

Silence.

Rex wasn't sure if she was shocked or angry. Maybe a mix of both. Selfishly, he felt glad. The fact that a nat-born who wasn't previously affiliated with the Republic or the GAR, felt so strongly about this made his tension soften. It melted into a feeling he couldn't quite describe. Still fluttery and nervous, but different somehow.

Some of the other nat-born officers he knew had no problem at all with him and his brothers not getting compensated. He'd even heard some say that they were lucky the Republic gave them food and a place to sleep. Not that he would call brown sludge and gray cubes "food". And not that he would call a metal plank with a thin excuse of a mattress "a place to sleep".

"Does it bother you?" she finally asked, sounding uncertain for the first time.

"Bother is... a strong word. I know that the Republic doesn't treat me and my brothers in the best way, but... those are the politicians. The people at the top. But that's not who the Republic is to me. To me it's the people. The people who live here on Coruscant and on all the other planets we freed from Separatist rule," he explained, not meeting her eye and instead opting to continue people-watching.

"The innocents," Nevaeh summed up.

"Yes," he agreed. "They're the ones I fight for." Rex jumped when he felt a hand land on top of his own. Looking down to the railing, he saw her softly grabbing his hand, grazing his knuckles. He was unsure of what it meant and how to respond. He and his brothers did touch each other, but not like this. The men used soft nudges and punches to connect to the others, but these soft, lingering touches and grazes that she was using? It was totally new to him. Her hand was cold, he could feel it through his glove. Briefly he wondered if an appropriate response would be to try and warm her hand up with his own, but then she was already pulling away.

Still, he looked down at his hand as though her own was still on top of it.

"You're a good soldier, Rex," she finally said and when he turned he was surprised to find her eyes trained on him.

"Thank you, Sir," Rex nodded in gratitude, her words filling him with pride.

"My name's Navaeh," she said. "A lot of people call me 'Vae too. You can use those when we're not on duty."

Rex, knowing the importance of names, only nodded in understanding. "Of course."

A more comfortable silence fell over them this time as they returned to watching the people below. After a while Nevaeh turned back to him.

"So you didn't go to 79's with the others?"

"Uh... no," he almost added a 'Sir' at the end of his sentence but he bit his tongue. "I have reports to fill out. Jus' needed a breather, s'all."

Nevaeh hummed in understanding. "What kinda reports?" she asked absentmindedly, watching a particularly large vessel rising from the planet's core.

"Casualties," he said.

She froze. "I thought the battalion's General fills those out?"

Rex grew nervous again. His hand reached up to scratch the back of his neck. She noted the gesture as one to communicate discomfort. "Uh... General Skywalker's... not particularly good with reports. I do most of the 501st paperwork and he jus'.... signs off on it."

Her hand landed on his arm this time and something inside him cursed his trusted armor for hindering him from feeling her skin against his. "Rex, that's terrible. Just because Anakin is bad at his job doesn't have to mean that you need to do it for him. You're only human too, you can't do it all! I'll talk to him, okay?"

"No!" His other hand flew up to her arm, holding her in place. "No, please Nevaeh," her name felt foreign on his tongue, but he noted the smile that tugged on her lips upon hearing it, "Don't talk to him. It's... it's fine. I... it's... it's important to me to fill out the casuality forms," he explained timidly.

Sensing there was more to this, Nevaeh didn't move or speak. She simply searched his eyes and waited. Upon noticing that she wouldn't back down, Rex visibly deflated. He leaned his hip against the railing and looked down again.

"It's the only time I get to mourn my brothers."

He truly expected her to say something that was meant to be uplifting. Sweet words that would make him offer a soft smile in return, but that had no real conviction behind them. Because how could they? Words couldn't bring back his brothers.

But Nevaeh didn't speak. Just squeezed his arm a little tighter, where his vambrace stopped and his blacks began.

Then it dawned on him. Her touch was there to support him. To make him feel less alone. To say what words couldn't. He offered a somber smile that she returned eagerly. Again, something stirred inside him, and he noticed a certain twinkle in her eye that he'd never seen before. His mouth went dry and his hands began feeling cold, even under his gloves.

"How many did we lose this time?" she asked mindfully, pulling away once the moment had passed.

The air around them was suddenly heavy with grief, as she allowed his feelings space, instead of trying to cheer him up. He hesitated before he answered. "About a company's worth of men that I know of so far. Maybe more, I haven't-," his voice caught in his throat briefly, "I haven't gotten around to going through all the med reports yet."

Next thing Rex knew Nevaeh's arms were around his neck and back and she was pulling him close. His bucket fell out of his hand and cluttered to the floor as he went stiff with shock.

"I'm so sorry, Rex," she said, her lips next to his ear.

Awkwardly, with his arms that had previously remained at his sides, he reached up to grab her biceps. He didn't know why, but he had to take a few deep breaths as emotion swelled up in his chest, threatening to spill out of his eyes. He blinked rapidly and softly took a step back from her, keeping her in place with a firm but gentle hold. He didn't want to push her away, but he hadn't exactly been prepared for the onslaught of feelings that her touch, even over his hard armor, could bring.

Even now, she remained close to him, as he tried desperately to keep his eyes dry by continuing to blink back his tears.

Her hands rested on his shoulders and since he didn't try to remove them, she left them there. She remained calm and steadfast, allowing him the moment he needed to get used to the new level of intimacy.

He caught himself briefly wondering what it would be like if he could actually feel her skin against his own and as if she could read his mind she reached up slowly.

At first it was only her knuckles, brushing ever so gently against his cheek, but it caused him to audibly gasp. His eyes widened, as chills ran up and down his spine and he felt goosebumps forming on his arms below his armor.

She then opened her hand, to let her palm rest on his jaw, her thumb continuing the soft movement over his cheekbone that her knuckles had been performing before.

A fluttery feeling rose in his stomach as his knees grew weak and his face turned hot. Instinctively, his eyes fluttered close and he leaned into her touch, her hands now feeling much warmer than before.

She ran her index finger down the outside of his ear and chuckled. "Your ears are red."

His eyes flew open again. "Uh... sorry, Sir," he murmured, avoiding her gaze.

"Nevaeh," she corrected gently.

"Nevaeh, right. Sorry," he repeated.

"Don't be sorry." Her thumb traveled down until it was under his chin. Gently, she lifted it to meet his eye. "I think I'm starting to understand now."

And once again, she was wrapping her arms around him, chin on his shoulder. And this time, he didn't fight it. His arms grabbed her waist and back and he pulled her tightly against him, pressing his face into her neck. He breathed in her sweet scent and released a shuddering breath.

They stayed there for a while, wrapped in each other's arms. Two soldiers, united through war, with the knowledge that it will be war that tears them apart again, as it had too many times before.

#hope yall enjoy :)#and srsly Saturn ur a BLESSING #captain rex #captain rex x oc #captain rex x f!oc #captain rex fluff #star wars #the clone wars #clone wars #clones #swtcw #star wars the clone wars #phie writes stuff

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hudine · 10 months

Text

First chapter of a crossover fic that came to mind after talking to a new friend who likes writing crossovers. Something I also always find to be fun. So this is an unholy fusion of Netflix Witcher and Doctor Who. WIP first draft of an idea and the first chapter. Even though I should be finishing my Doctor Who fic Sideways Parenthood… will get back there eventually. Is some references to it here briefly but don’t need to have read any to follow along. Working title is currently Free Bird

-x-x-x-

Geralt had just said yes to Borch about going on the dragon hunt and was watching Yennefer at the bar. Jaskier had been grumbling to himself but suddenly stood up knocking his chair over and pointed at someone new who just walked into the tavern and yelled out in the most angry voice Geralt had ever heard come from the bard, “You!”

The man he yelled at froze. He was near the same hight as the bard and build, had the same blue eyes and hair colour, but that’s where similarities ended other than the predilection to dress weirdly. He was older than Jaskier, his face was shaped differently, hair was cut another way and what he wore was more like a military uniform than bard clothing, with a strange grey military long coat that belonged to no military on the continent. The man held his hands out in a warding off gesture as the bard approached and said, “Jaskier! It’s great to see you again!”

“Captain Jack Harkness! What did I tell you I’d do if I ever see you again?” Jaskier asked as he poked him in the chest.

“I’m not sure I quite caught all of it… it did involve my balls and a cheese grater… or was that that friend of yours, Pricilla, and you were the one that said you’d stick my head in a wine press?”

“Give me one good reason I don’t kill you where you stand!” Jaskier snarled.

“I didn’t know the artefact would do that! And solved the time loop problem, everything put back to normal.”

“After getting me and my friends stuck reliving the same day over and over for how long exactly? No, really? How long? I genuinely lost count sometime after loop number eight hundred. Wouldn’t have even been that bad if it didn’t always end with Pricilla dying every time but the last one! I had to watch my friend die, over, and over, and over again, with no one other than the three of us and Valdo Fucking Marx able to remember it,” Jaskier ranted.

“Jaskier,” the man tried to say but got interrupted by the bard.

“All because you had to have a cover and a way in to get into Countess deSteele’s vault. Then I drink admittedly too much and run into that idiot over there,” Jaskier points at Geralt this time, “trying to wish away all his problems with a djinn of all the crazy shit to do. Just because he is running away from his aforementioned problems as usual. Then almost gets me killed.”

“He takes me to her,” the bard points at Yennefer who was now standing beside Geralt watching the spectacle, “who was good enough to get rid of the djinn’s spell. Thank you by the way Yennefer because quite frankly death via asphyxiation is my least favourite way to die that doesn’t involve dismemberment. Only for her to go and try to capture the djinn herself by becoming its vessel… Just be glad that didn’t work out by the way… saw someone do that once, it was not pretty…. They exploded like a bladder filled with really chunky soup all because they used that spell you tired. You never want to do that by the way. The elder was transcribed wrong and djinn being the masters of loopholes that they are… well… like I said… really chunky soup.”

Jaskier paces as he gets fully into his rant. “Then those two have been hooking up ever since. I mean Geralt can fuck whoever else he wants. We’ve never even pretended to be monogamous, but it’s obvious the djinn did something to both of them. It makes them get so wrapped up in each other they don’t notice a damn thing else going on until they fuck. Seriously they didn’t even notice an entire house almost falling down around them. I have a little issue with consent and how much I really believe people should consent to things. I’m not entirely sure how much either of them actually are consenting to it all, and how much is the spell making them think they are.”

“Bad time, huh?” Jack asked.

Jaskier took a deep breath to calm himself and asked in turn, “What do you want Dad?”

Geralt and Yennefer looked at each other confused and mouthed, ‘Dad?’

“We need to leave, they found us,” Jack replied without missing a beat.

“What? How? We picked this backwater planet, devoid of nearby heavily trafficked space lanes, in the ass end of nowhere on the edge of a not so well populated galaxy in order to hide. I’ve spent the last three hundred years without indoor plumbing on this technologically back slidden world. We’re only about two steps up from hiding with my great uncle Brax on Legion! And in the wrong fucking universe!”

“Three hundred years?” Geralt asked without thinking.

“Seriously Geralt, for a really smart man and a Witcher you can be really fucking unobservant at times,” Jaskier sighed, “just look at me Geralt. Really look at me. Have I aged a day since you first met me over two decades ago now?”

“Actually now you mention it… but I’ve always known you’re not entirely human. The second heartbeat gives it away.”

Jaskier puts his head in his hands and makes a frustrated groaning noise. “Fuck. I now owe Vesemir three hundred crowns. He bet you wouldn’t say or notice anything about it until I said something first. Fools bet really. That man knows his pups.”

“Ok. I’m not going to get into how you know Vesemir or bets. What are you? I never could figure that one out,” Geralt asked.

“Time Lord. Just a bit over half human and the rest gallifreyan. You see he,” Jaskier pointed at Jack, “fucked one of his best friend’s daughters, and I was the result. Which was a surprise since gallifreyan women are supposed to be sterile”

“It really sounds worse than it actually was when you put it like that,” Jack complained, “I didn’t even know she was related to the Doctor at the time, yet alone she’s his long lost daughter from back on Gallifrey. Heck I thought Gallifrey and the Time Lords where all destroyed in the time war.”

“Yea well I inherited Dad’s gift… or curse… of immortality. We don’t know how. Just that I literally can’t stay dead. Same with him but we know why he is like he is. A goddess of time liked him too much and decided she wanted him to live… she just was new to the whole goddess thing and brought him back permanently. Time Lords are happy enough with that explanation… what they aren’t is why I am the same way. So we’re now on the run from the Time Lords because they want to cut me into lil biddy pieces to see how I tick and I’ll be alive during the whole thing and experiencing it.”

“What’s a gallifreyan or a time lord?” Yennefer asked this time.

“Just another species like humans, elves, dwarfs, and so on. Just not one you’d typically find on this planet or sphere as you say here. Time Lords are pretty much all Gallifreyan but not all Gallifreyans are Time Lords. Time Lords are a bit like Witchers in a way. We’re made not born. Taken from our families at a young age, normally eight, exposed to secret ways of mutating the body. No one I’m aware of has died from the process but not all make it through with their minds intact.”

“That explains a lot about you then,” Yennefer quipped.

Jaskier ignored her and continued, “Then we go to the Time Lord Academy for about a hundred years where we learn a lot of academic stuff, not just how to control our mutations. I’m not a typical time lord. Time lords have this thing they can do twelve times if they’re dying where they can repair every cell in the body but it is uncontrollable and makes us change, new body, new face, new everything. We become a different person in a way. All the major stuff about us is the same, but we tend to get new personality traits here and there. That’s a normal time lord. I’m not normal.”

“Nothing new there,” Geralt said with a smirk.

“I, much like my grandfather before me, take great pride in embracing being a weirdo. Thank you very much. Anyway as I was saying I’m different from the other time lords because I have died so many times and in so many ways now I’ve genuinely lost count. I’ve never regenerated, just came back to life. If I’m in pieces when I die I do a mixture of regrow new ones and my old ones reattach and it’s like nothing ever happened. Not even a mark. Which is why a secret society within the time lords want to experiment on me.��

Jaskier walks over to Geralt and surprises him by pulling him into a passionate kiss in front of everyone then said, “I’m going to miss you the most.”

“Jaskier?” He asks questioningly.

Jaskier ignored him and actually surprised Yennefer this time by hugging her. “Look after him Witch.”

“We need to get a move on. Reading a Gallifreyan life sign headed this way,” Jack interrupted looking at the scanner on the vortex manipulator around his wrist.

“Do you know who?” Jaskier asked as he looked over at Jack.

“No. Never stuck around to check. The proximity alarm went off to say they where on the on the planet and came right here. Better do your thing and we get out of here.”

“Already have, no one will remember anything we said except for Geralt, Yennefer, and Borch over there.”

“Not wanting to take the time to break the mental shielding of a sorceress and a Witcher to wipe memories I get… But the old short guy? Really?”

“Oh that’s right, you’ve never met Villentretenmerth before. You weren’t on that little misadventure. I’d introduce you properly but we need to go. Sorry I won’t get to write a song about your grand adventure Vill. Although why a dragon wants to go on a dragon hunt I have no idea.”

“My mate is injured, our egg is in danger and cannot be moved yet.”

Jaskier sighed and shook his head. “Why didn’t you just say so in the first place?”

“Didn’t want to blow your cover. You do play the part of the harmless and hapless bard very well after all,” Borch replied.

“We can’t leave Dad,” the seemingly harmless and hapless bard said to his father.

“Time Lords coming right this way. They’re outside,” Jack reminded.

“It’s ok. I picked up their telepathic signature now. False alarm. It’s just—“

A man with flyaway brown hair in a blue pinstriped suit walked into the tavern with a blond woman. He stopped dead in his tracks and looked curiously at them. “Jack?”

“Doctor? What are you doing here? This thing must be on the fritz. It’s never been the same since you scrambled it with your sonic screwdriver.”

“Jack!” The blond woman exclaimed and ran over and they hugged enthusiastically.

“Rosie!”

“Jack!” The metacrisis Doctor warned.

“I’m just saying hello,” Jack replied without missing a beat with the old familiar argument.

“You never just say hello Dad,” Jaskier replied rolling his eyes, “He’s worse than I am and that’s saying something,” he added in aside to Geralt and Yennefer. “So turns out it’s a false alarm and I don’t have to scramble to get off this planet as soon as possible. It’s only my grandfather… sort of… Anyway any chance I can get either of you to forget everything I said because I would have regretted leaving without telling you?”

“Not a chance bard,” Yennefer replied smirking.

“Wait… Dad…” the Doctor trailed off looking over Jaskier and really looking at that with what senses he had left to him because of the metacrisis. “You’re a Time Lord, and you’re related to me…. And apparently Jack?”

“How much does your other body pickup from the other universe?” Jaskier asked, “It’s just some of it could be universe endingly bad if he knew at this point in your timeline.”

“Not much now. We get impressions of what each other is doing but not what exactly what unless we both concentrate really hard when both of us are at a weak point between universes. So we gone from being the same person in two different bodies at the same time pretty much, to being connected individuals. Nothing you tell me will get back to him,” the Doctor answered.

“Gallifrey stands.”

“What?”

“Yea you pretty much used the moment to move Gallifrey into a pocket dimension and the Dalek’s destroyed themselves when trying to fire on a planet that was no longer there and made it look like Gallifrey was destroyed.”

“What?”

“But you already knew that didn’t you Rose?” Jaskier asked.

“What?” The Doctor asked again looking at Rose this time.

“It’s not like I could tell him. Like you said the universe could have exploded from the giant paradox that would have created if he knew too soon. Especially bad since I’m a giant walking paradox as it is. I only exist because of bad wolf. In all the realities I went through to find the Doctor there wasn’t another Rose Tyler for that reason. It was better to just play stupid and pretend I didn’t remember bad wolf, or the moment, or any of it.”

“You where there…on Gallifrey… you brought me to see my future… It wasn’t a projection was it? It was actually you. Bad Wolf. You said you ended the time war but you didn’t mean the Daleks on the game station…” the Doctor started remembering.

“Like I would ever let you kill so many innocents when there was another way,” Rose added. “I hated every moment of letting you think you had.”

The Doctor’s head was spinning with the new information. “You still have access to that power don’t you?”

“Some. No where near as much as when I was acting as the moment. Can’t do anything a time lord can’t do. Sorry Jack about the whole immortality thing. I can’t actually fix it.”

“What about him,” Jack asked pointing to Jaskier. “He’s my son. I’ve had children since the whole immortality thing started but he’s the only one that inherited it from me.”

“I really don’t know,” Rose replied.

“I don’t know either. It really shouldn’t be possible Jack,” The Doctor added then turned to Jaskier, “Now how are you related to me?”

“I’m your grandson. Or will be. Depends on your perspective I suppose. I’m pretty much an accident, your son who just regenerated and became your daughter at the time got curious about what sex is like as a woman. Susan is my older sister if you’re wondering which of your kids.”

“I swear I didn’t know she was related to you!” Jack exclaimed with his hands out in a defensive posture.

The Doctor just deflated and sighed. “I really should be surprised, but I’m not.”

“Ok be careful what you say, people are going to notice soon and some of them really aren’t the people we want knowing anything,” Jaskier said holding his hand up and levelled a glare at his grandfather, “That includes you. Some of us don’t want to pick up and leave sooner than they have to.”

“Mass hypnosis to make them forget? Not very ethical,” the Doctor replies with a raised eyebrow but just sits beside Borch.

“Literally all I did was make people forget about a conversation on what to most of these people is a boring Tuesday. Besides. You’re going to lecture me about ethics? You? Try that on someone who doesn’t actually know you granddad.” Jaskier replied and took a seat beside the Doctor. “I’ve kidnapped my granddaughter’s school teachers for example.”

“You don’t have grandchildren,” Jack pointed out as he took a seat as well.

“Not the point,” Jaskier shot back.

“I panicked!” The Doctor defended. “I hadn’t been off of Gallifrey for long then. I hadn’t quite worked out yet that no one is going to take notice of two humans claiming to have followed a student into a police box and it turned out to be bigger on the inside. Now I know that if I leave a bloody big blue box in the middle of somewhere obvious that it shouldn’t be at, no one even notices. I swear most of the time it’s not even the perception filter, people just can be that stupid at times.”

“Susan still talks fondly of Ian and Barbra though,” Jaskier added shaking his head and laughing.

“I thought you where her at first. Picked up on the telepathic signature soon as I arrived. Wasn’t until I saw you I picked up the supple differences.”

“I get that a lot from people that know her. She used to volunteer to babysit me when I was a kid. Practically raised me before I went to the academy. Sorry to say I haven’t seen my sister since before I escaped from the division three hundred years ago now. I can tell you she made it out the other side of the time war though. All your kids have except for Zaiden, yet I’ve met an alternate version of him. He’s running around with an alternate version of you, Narvin and Rose.”

“Narvin?! Celestial Interventions Agency Coordinator Narvin? Really?! What is any version of Zaiden doing with the CIA?” The Doctor asked perplexed.

“He was in it. Apparently he joined just to spite both you and your father. Besides Narvin’s not so bad. You and him aren’t actually all that different, especially after the war. There’s a lot of stuff he’s not as comfortable with that he once was. Narvin helped me escape the division, had access to the axis to get me out of that universe, and had access to a TARDIS that will work in most of the multiverse. If it wasn’t for him and Great Uncle Braxiatel I’d still be being cut into little pieces to see how I work and if they can replicate it.”

“That’s the second time you mentioned the division, who, what?”

“A secret society within the time lords that’s older than the time lords themselves. They claim to have discovered the secret to regeneration, yahdee yahdee yahdah… Did they really? I got no idea. Let’s just say they’re crazier than Rassilon, well not surprising, he was one of them. Anyway they’re a bunch of crazy time lords who want to experiment on me. I’m hiding on this planet because of all the natural rift energy should cover me on any scans they do to look for me, and we where very panicked a little while ago because Dad thought you where one of them.”

“He’s supposed to be one of the exclusions on the scanner. Must be the metacrisis messing it up. What brings you here anyway Doctor? I thought you had been stranded on Earth.”

“Grew a new TARDIS out of a bit of the old one. She’s still got a lot of growing to do so we came here because of all the rift energies. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. I don’t know how this universe yet alone this planet is in one piece.”

“I don’t know what happened but probably ripples from the time war. They call it the conjunction of the spheres. The whole planet is covered in scars from it. Something happened that brought a lot of different people from different races here. I don’t think they all came from this universe, and certainly not all from the same time period. There’s examples all over the place of it,” Jaskier explained.

“I only understand about a third of what they’re talking about,” Geralt said in aside to Yennefer.

Overhearing, Rose replies to them, “I only ever understand about half of what comes out of the Doctor’s mouth on a good day. I find it easier to just nod and take in what’s going on around us. I swear for someone really smart and observant he has a tendency to miss the obvious sometimes.”

“Jaskier has a tendency to play dumb but is actually one of the smartest people I know. He also notices everything. Unless it’s something like a horse about to run him over because he’s too busy composing something in his note book to look where he’s going.”

Rose groans and makes an exasperated gesture, “That’s exactly what I am talking about! The Doctor does that sort of thing all the bloody time. Your friend is definitely his grandson then. Why couldn’t he inherit some of your common sense Jack?”

“Common sense? Me? We met because I was a conman who was too stupid to think that just maybe an ambulance from an advanced civilisation might contain medical equipment on the subatomic level so of course I won’t be able to see it. I even had nanogenes in the ship I was using from the same civilisation and time period.”

They all talked amongst themselves for a while before Jaskier started playing as he’d arranged to earlier with the tavern owner. He did a number of the ones he was famous for including much to Geralt’s annoyance ‘Toss a coin’.

After a while just to be obnoxious Jack called out, “Free bird!”

“You can’t play that one on a lute Jack,” The Doctor replied.

Jaskier took that as a challenge. It sounded a little weird but he actually managed to do a passably recognisable version of the opening cords without the metal sound and started to sing.

If I leave here tomorrow,

Would you still remember me?

For I must be traveling on now,

'Cause there's too many places I've got to see,

But if I stay here with you, girl,

Things just couldn't be the same,

'Cause I'm as free as a bird now,

And this bird you cannot change,

Oh, oh, oh, oh,

And the bird you cannot change,

And this bird, you cannot change,

Lord knows, I can't change,

Bye-bye baby, it's been sweet love, yeah, yeah,

Though this feelin' I can't change,

But please don't take it so badly,

'Cause Lord knows, I'm to blame,

But if I stay here with you, girl,

Things just couldn't be the same,

'Cause I'm as free as a bird now,

And this bird you cannot change,

Oh, oh, oh, oh,

And the bird you cannot change,

And this bird, you cannot change,

Lord knows, I can't change,

Lord help me, I can't change,

Lord, I can't change,

Won't you fly high, free bird, yeah.

He finished without the solo metal part at end became they’re really is only so much he can do with strings made from gut, and even he knows when to admit defeat. He bowed at the claps he got from the three people in the room who actually knew what that song was supposed to sound like, and a few others who seemed to like the song. “You’re right, that really does need metal strings to sound right.”

And so the night went on with The Doctor, Rose and Jack challenging him to convert rock songs to play on the lute.

Later that night Jaskier was surprised when Geralt joined him in bed in the room he’d earned them with his performance. He’d expected him to forget all about him as usual and go off with Yennefer wherever. He was even more surprised but presently so that he was being very affectionate with him.

“Not that I’m complaining, but any particular reason you’re so determined to kiss every inch of exposed skin I have?”

“There’s a few inches of skin not so exposed right now I’d also like to get my lips on,” Geralt replied giving a feral grin as he smelled the spike in Jaskier’s arousal. “You’re normally horny after a rowdy performance like that one. You didn’t disappear off with anyone so I thought I’d help you out.”

“What about Yennefer?” Jaskier couldn’t help asking.

“Well if you really want to I could probably talk her into joining us, but I rather like having you all to myself right now,” Geralt said only half joking and started sucking on his neck causing Jaskier to moan.

“Not what I’m talking about. Normally you’d be in bed with her by now.”

“I’m not good with words,” Geralt said being serious now. “I’m trying to do better by you Jask. You almost left today, and for good. Not just a few weeks or months but gone forever. It hit me if you left here tomorrow like that song you sang, I’d not only remember you I’d be devastated. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

“‘But if I stay here with you, things just could be the same, cause I’m free as a bird now, and this bird cannot change,’” Jaskier quoted. “There’s truth in that too. I’ve loved being Jaskier the bard. The problem is I don’t age. People assume I got some elder blood in me and don’t make much of it lots of people do. Even then though there’s only so long I can keep up the rues before I need to move on. I love you Geralt and I’ve stayed so long already because I needed to be near you. Pathetic I know.”

“Then I’ll go with you,” Geralt stated. “And you’re not pathetic.”

That caught Jaskier by surprise and he gasped running a hand over the Witcher’s face. “You come with me?”

“You’ve followed me around for over twenty years now. Maybe it’s time I followed you for a change.”

“You’d do that?”

“Yes,” Geralt replied running a hand through the bard’s hair.

“What about the path, and you’re tied to Yennefer by destiny and all that.”

“I love you and I know it’s not some damned wish from a djinn causing it all. You had a point earlier when you said you didn’t know just how much either of us are consenting to it all. Truth is when she’s not around I barely think about her then I see her and it’s like some sort of spell comes over me and she’s all I think about. When you’re not around I’m thinking about you constantly. Just ask any of my brothers they complain about me moping every winter.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Jaskier added.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me too. You may have hidden your identity but not the small things about you. I know you have cold feet in the mornings, hog the blankets, but always end up cuddling during the night. You prefer to drink wine over ale and like things spiced with ginger. FYou hate geese but love pretty much all other animals. You spoil Roach rotten with treats. You once made a pet of a mouse you found with its leg stuck in a trap because it refused to leave after you nursed it back to health. His name was Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, you called him ‘Nearly Legless Nick’ for some reason, and he lived in your pocket. Those things and twenty years worth of getting to know you like that isn’t made up. But I’d like to get to know the rest.”

“Fine. Run away with me for once. After we help Borch, and stop whatever ill advised plan Yennefer is concocting. Maybe we should kidnap her and take her with us when we run away. She needs protecting from herself. If you had to bind yourself to a sorceress at least you picked an interesting one.”

“That’s enough about Yen. I believe we where in the middle of something that most definitely doesn’t involve her,” Geralt replied before kissing Jaskier.

#the witcher #jaskier #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #doctor who #metacrisis doctor #rose tyler #the doctor x rose #timepetals #captan Jack Harkness

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ethereal-inquisitor · 2 years

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Chapter 5: Poor Sense of Direction

a/n: Nothing crazy in this chapter aside from reader's need to bake during stressful times.

Previous Chapter

You were surrounded by softness and warmth when you finally drifted back into consciousness. You tried very hard not to move because you knew what would happen, but for the first few moments of waking up, you felt safe and calm. A loud snore to your left jerked you out of your peaceful revelry, and you winced as every muscle in your body screamed at you. Making a soft noise of distress, you cracked a single eye opened to glare at the offending snorer.

Balin sat directly across for you, spectacles dangling dangerously off his nose as he slept. His neck was twisted at an angle that made you hurt, but otherwise he seemed fairly comfortable. A noise to your right had you turning carefully to look behind you where Bilbo was curled up on the other side of the huge bed. They both looked exhausted.

Even as the warmth and comfort from your place called you to go back to sleep, you knew it wouldn’t happen. With a sigh, you pushed the mountain of blankets off of you, pausing when you saw two very different fabrics underneath the others. One looked like the robe Thranduil was wearing at dinner. The other, the one actually touching your skin, was a rich royal blue with delicate embroidery and fur lining. You tugged at it, frowning when you realized it looked similar to what Thorin was wearing. You tugged even harder and dislodged the coat from its position. With a slow, calming breath, you carefully slid out of the bed with the jacket and laid it next to the table near Balin.

Turning to look around the room, your gaze landed on the pile of clothing on the very end of the bed. Excitement flowed through you as you hobbled over –damn that stupid warg—to grab something to wear.

Wait…

Looking down, you realized you were in a soft pink satin sleeping gown, the magical dress hanging delicately in the wardrobe across from you. How did…? Nevermind. If Balin and Bilbo helped undress you, you could forgive them. The stone in the pit of your stomach grew uncomfortable at the thought of Thorin, or gods forbid Thranduil, helped put you in something more comfortable to sleep.

You were mortified at the thought, and you scrambled through some of the clothing to find something simple. It took a while, but you located a pair of soft leather pants with beautiful patterning down each leg and a chemise with strings that you wrapped around your torso to give it better shape. The sleeves were just small cylinders of fabric, leaving your shoulders bare in a cute, romantic look. Too bad you didn’t have anyone to impress, you thought wryly, jumping as Balin let out another impressive snore.

Taking your clothes with you into the washroom, you shut the door quietly to wash and dress.

After you finished, you came back out into the room and realized that it was still dark outside, making it either very late or very early. Either way, you decided to try and find the kitchens to make Ori’s treat. Surely you could find the kitchens…

You could not find the kitchens.

In fact, you were pretty sure you were completely lost as you passed the same tree you passed three minutes ago. Whatever time it was, you hadn’t seen a single elf in at least five minutes. How hard was it to find a kitchen?

The hall you were in was gorgeous. The tree branches above you were loosely woven, and you could see the night sky with stars so bright they twinkled like fireflies. You were so entranced at the scene that you didn’t hear the footsteps behind you until you felt warmth at your back.

“What,” Thranduil asked quietly, “are you doing out here?”

You let out an entirely undignified noise and spun around quickly, heat rising up your neck in embarrassment. “Uh… I was looking for the kitchens.”

He tilted his head, one eyebrow raising as if asking you to continue.

“I couldn’t sleep, and I always bake when I can’t sleep,” you babbled. “I wasn’t going to bother anyone, and I’d pay for-“

Thranduil held a hand up to stop your babbling, pinching the bridge of his nose as he let out a sigh. “You are in the royal wing. The kitchens are as far away from here as they can be.”

Your lips twisted in disappointment. “Oh… I’m really sorry if I bothered you. Do you think you can point me in their direction?”

The king stared at you for so long you thought he had turned to stone. After obviously making some kind of decision, he took you by the shoulders and turned you in the direction you had come from. His thumbs slid along the bare skin gently before he released you. You tried to tamper the blush, ignoring how your stomach jumped a little. He was still a conniving king, and you didn’t trust him one bit. Not one. “This is the direction you need to go, but I’m fairly certain you will not make it before the cooks wake up to begin breakfast at this rate. I will take you.” He breezed past you, expecting you to follow. You did, hobbling after him.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, louder than before as they passed another door.

You winced, hoping he didn’t wake up whoever was in that particular room. “Oh, I’m alright. Stupid warg bit my thigh and now I have a bruise for each tooth on my leg.”

He stopped, turning to look at you with a confused expression. “A warg?”

You snorted at the look on his face, covering your mouth with your hand to try and cover it. “It’s a long story. Visions can be…unsettling. I’ve never had one physically manifest before, though, so this is new.”

“Do you need someone to look at it?” his eyes dropped down to your thighs then slowly glided back up to your face. It was very unsettling to be the singular focus of his gaze, but maybe not in a terrible way.

Stop it. You cannot let yourself fall for this.

You shook your head violently, continuing to follow him as he walked onward. The rest of the walk was in comfortable silence, thankfully, and it only took another ten minutes to get to the kitchen.

To the biggest kitchen you had ever seen. Ovens lined the back wall, still burning pleasantly even without things to cook. You wondered idly if magic kept them from setting everything on fire, but your attention turned to the large counters, various pots and pans, and the pantry in the back literally overflowing with food. You made a delighted noise and rushed past Thranduil to finish seeing everything.

“This is amazing,” you breathed, spinning around to take it all in.

Thranduil’s eye twinkle even if his lips barely quirk in an amused smile. “A kitchen brings you this much joy?” as if it were the most preposterous thing in the world.

“You have no idea. Even the kitchens in Erebor…” you trailed off, suddenly struck with a wave of sadness as you remembered your terrible times in the Erebor kitchens. You cleared your throat and shook your head to push those thoughts away. “I’ve never seen anything like this. Uh, do you mind if I..” you motion back towards the pantry, practically dying to find various ingredients to work with.

He made a motion of approval, moving to sit in a chair at one of the counters.

You stopped, brows furrowing. “What are you doing?”

“You will need someone to help you back to your quarters, will you not? Plus, I have to say that I am quite curious to see what delicacies come from your world.”

After a moment’s consideration, you nod and hurry into the back to raid the pantry.

~*~

Thorin was wide awake, staring up at the ceiling when he heard Thranduil’s voice from outside his door.

“How are you feeling?’

The dwarven king shot up in bed when he heard the soft murmur of your reply—something about your thighs-- sliding out of the bed to pull his breeches and a tunic on.

When he was certain the two of you were far enough away, he opened the door and poked his head out. Eyes narrowing at the back of Thranduil’s head, he quietly shut the door and committed to following the two of you to wherever your destination was.

He told himself it was because he didn’t trust the elf to be alone with you. Who knows what kind of nonsense he could fill your head with. In reality, it was because he wanted to see what your reaction to the elf lord was. Whether your cheeks would turn that beautiful shade of pink if the elf complimented you or if you’d grace him with that blinding smile when he gave you a gift. Jealousy reared its ugly head, and his ire rose just thinking about it.

Thorin knew where you were going before the two of you ever made it to the kitchens. It was your refuge, even more so than it was for Bombur. Your talented hands could craft masterpieces from even the simplest of ingredients, and he longed for the time before when just the two of you would speak long into the night while you cooked.

He remembered everything about those times. The memories kept him going even when his rage burned hot at the thought of your supposed betrayal.

And now you were sharing your time with an elf. Not just any elf, but the one elf he would gladly run a sword through if he didn’t need the alliance.

Once he made it to the kitchen, he stayed right outside the doorway so no one could see him, listening to you chatter about the impressiveness of the kitchen. He frowned when you mentioned Erebor, making a note to ask Bombur about it.

He heard you make various pleased sounds as you pulled flour, honey, fresh fruits, and other various accoutrements onto the counter. There was silence for a while until Thranduil’s voice cut through it.

“I have heard many accountings of what happened to you and Thorin Oakenshield, but I wonder… Would you be willing to tell me your side?”

Thorin stiffened, pressing his back to the wall as he waited for your reply. He heard a pan slam onto the counter, then rustling as you poured something. You were quiet for so long, Thorin thought you might not even grace the other king with an answer.

“Why do you want to know?” you asked quietly, so quiet the dwarf almost missed it.

“The rumors paint you in such an unflattering light, I thought that I might hear some of your truth. You do not strike me as a woman who wanted nothing but the riches in the mountain. A…what is the word, base prostitute trying to weasel every last gold from the kind hands of the King Under the Mountain.”

Thorin bit his cheek to keep from growling, so angry he was about to burst. He didn’t want to hear anymore about the rumors. He would handle them when they returned to Erebor.

You sniffed as if holding back tears, and all the dwarf wanted to do was drop to his knees and beg your forgiveness for ever doubting you. The glass sitting in his chest twisted every time he heard you speak.

“I… no, I’d rather not. Regardless of everything that happened, I won’t let you use me to hurt him. It won’t happen.”

The sound of a chair screeching across the floor echoed through the air. “I give you my word, Malthen tinu, that nothing you say will leave this room. I felt how burdened you were. Saw the broken pieces. Talking typically helps the healing process. And,” he continues airily, “nothing you can say about the dwarf will change my opinion of him.”

Thorin scowled, wanting nothing more than to punch the elf’s perfect face until it wasn’t perfect anymore. Half of him wanted you to talk about it, if only so he could understand what you had gone through. He had been so removed from your struggles that he had no idea until the very end, and by then you were already gone.

He held his breath, waiting for your response.

“Well,” you said finally, “if you give me your word it won’t go beyond us…I’ll tell you what I can.”

The dwarf let out his breath, heart breaking all over again as you started telling Thranduil everything.

Next Chapter

#thorin oakenshield #thorin x fem!reader #thorin x reader #underneath the fireflies

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