#but the moment you have a home and supplies and are truly safe. you feel a deep fear. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

buttdumplin · 4 days

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The sweet, lovely poly 141 boys and their Spanish-speaking latine partner.

This was meant to be a quick little thing, but boy did this get away from me lmao. This is the fluffiest shit I've ever indulged in and I love it. Big thank you to @mikichko for inspiring and helping with this!!!

CW: poly 141, gn!reader, latine reader, mexican slang, hint of d/s dynamics in Johnny's

Price, god love the man, is the one who seems to stumble the most. It's almost comical, considering the fact that Spanish and Arabic are so similar due to their histories. But there's a big difference between the Spanish he's learned to recognize and what you throw at him on the daily. He truly thinks it's because of his age, window of acquisition and all that. John does not expect to be able to speak fluently with you, but he does at least want to understand you. What he really wants, though, is to make you feel more fully at home with him, and he is forever grateful that you feel comfortable and safe enough with them to embrace all parts of your identity.

"Hola, amor mío. How was your day?" you greet him from the couch, eyeing him from tip to toe and almost whistling at seeing him in uniform. "Sigues rechulo, mi güerito, so I assume all went well?"

John swings down to kiss you, gripping the back of your neck to prolongue the kiss, trying to soak in as much of the affection as he can while also disguising the fact that he still doesn't fully recognize what came after.

"Yours was good too, I trust?"

"Yeah, but my brother called. El güey still con sus pinches mamadas and asking for my help. Aguas, in case he shows up this week."

"I... will keep an eye out, dove."

"Call me si les arma pedo and I'm not around."

He just nods sagely and squishes up against you on the couch, letting your warmth seep into his tired bones.

Later that evening, he rounds up the boys while you're in the shower and pulls out a small notebook where he's written things out phonetically. John may not have all the knowledge he needs, but he sure as hell is good at getting it.

"'Güey,' that's the brother's nickname?"

"No, that's like 'man/guy.' But it's also an insult. But not always," Johnny supplies.

"Fuck me, okay. 'Rechulo' is... I got nothing for that one."

"The 're' is for heavy emphasis, 'chulo' is 'cute/handsome/pretty.' 'Re' can go on practically any adjective," Simon steps in.

"'Aguas' and 'pedo' CANNOT be what they are, right?"

Kyle takes his hand and chuckles, "No, sweetheart. The first is like a warning, the second a fight or scene or scandal. In this context."

John's shoulders finally relax and he lets out a heavy sigh, putting the final touches on his notes of the day.

"Thank you, boys, for your patience and your kindness. And your secrecy," John huffs a little laughter and gives them his sweetest smile, the one where you can see the dimples poking out through the beard.

They all reach over to gently caress him, taking turns kissing the parts of him they can reach.

"Thank you, John, for trying so hard."

Beautiful, wonderful Kyle, the delight of a man that he is, is the one giving it as good as he gets. He's the one crooning in your ear, showering you with the most decadent terms of endearment, knowing full well they make your knees much weaker in Spanish. He'll use the advantage every single chance he has, don't doubt that for a second. But truly, it's the soft seclusion of those moments that he cherishes most, when you're looking up at him with big bright eyes, knowing you fully trust him to take care of you.

You're grumbling away as you wash dishes after dinner when Kyle comes up behind you, arms making the way slowly around your waist, chin dropping onto your shoulder.

"Oh, tesoro mío, look at you working away, working so hard for us."

You refuse to look at him and give a fussy pout. He knows it's your least favorite of the house duties. So much so that you're always willing to do almost anything as long as you don't have to touch wet food.

"It looks like you've done enough, cariño. Come join us in bed."

"No. None of you wanted to trade with me so se aguantan," you try to wiggle and bump his head away from yours.

"Come on, cosa hermosa, we need you with us to settle for the night," he pulls your hands from the water, drying them and turning you towards him.

You immediately bury your face into his chest. Can't look him in the eye, he'll win you over the moment you do.

"So they send in the smooth talker, huh?"

Kyle laughs, clear and bright, and he wraps you back up in his arms, gently cradling your head until you give in and look up at him.

"Or," he says, making you both rock gently, "I'm trying to sneak in a little solo time."

Your body melts against his as the words sink in, big eyes blinking softly up at him, "Besito?"

"As many as you want, mi vida. Until you grow bored of me," and you're letting out a sweet sigh as those soft lips meet yours.

His hands move to bring your body closer to his, to milk this quiet moment for as much contact as possible, to sear it all into his memory.

"You two are awfully quiet out there," Simon calls from the bedroom and it makes you break apart with a little jump.

You hear frantic rustling that has to be Johnny, "Hold on, what happened to doing the dishes!"

A chuckle escapes the two of you, sparkling eyes meeting in the low light from the stove hood. The sound of John huffing to get comfortable floats in from the bedroom.

"Just a minute more, hermosura," he mutters against your hair. "Wanna stay here a bit longer."

"Really liking all those pet names, aren't you?"

Kyle laughs again and gives you a squeeze, "Mean every single one of them."

And you happily linger, not pointing out that you've noticed an endearing pattern of Kyle wrapping up nights in the kitchen with you in his arms and a faint love song echoing down the hall for you two to sway to.

Beloved, darling Simon, he hides his own understanding of the language. He understands it nearly perfectly, with just the tiniest margin of error, nothing too big to bring attention to it. Overall, he's able to catch almost everything you mumble. It's not to be sneaky or anything like that, Simon would never do anything to compromise your privacy. It's more that he doesn't quite see the need to verbalize it. To him it's nothing special, no need to make a spectacle. Instead, he lets it seep into his actions, ever the acts of service lover that he is.

You're spread out on the couch, on the phone with your mother, complaining, "Como chingan los del trabajo. Me pidieron un reporte para el viernes y ahora me reclaman que todavía no se los he dado y apenas es miércoles."

There was a tension in your shoulders when you came home from work, he didn't miss that. Caught you jolting to a stop mid-stretch. And as the call goes on longer, Simon picks up on more.

"No he tenido chance de lavar ropa, ni una putisima pijama... Traigo un pinche antojo de mole, pero es un chingo de trabajo y ahorita no le puedo dedicar el tiempo..."

He quietly moves to gather the boys as you continue ranting and pace around the room. You're too caught up in your call to see them forming a massive huddle and their nodding at Simon right as the break and throw their joined hands in the air.

By the time you're off the phone, it's dark out and you notice the house is quieter than usual. You move to look for the boys (they can't have left without telling you, right?) when Simon pops out from the hall, crooked smile you love so much adorning his face, and he simply takes your hand to pull you into the bathroom. A hot bath greets you, some honeyed bath bomb already dissolving in the water and your laptop set up on a bucket besides the bath, your comfort show already pulled up and ready to play. Simon then points to your softest pajamas washed and set out on the counter for you.

"And you'll help me with my lotion too?"

He kisses your forehead, "When do I not?"

"The boys?"

"Setting up dinner. Kyle and I are making your favorite."

You whip around to face him, eyes wide and excited, "With fresh tortillas?"

With a low, affirmative hum Simon pulls you in closer and just holds you. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't need to. But he lends you his strength, which is all he can really hope for. The steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his arms around you help release the tightness in your body. Letting out your own little hum, you give him a squeeze and he squeezes back harder, crushing you in the way he knows you find comforting. There's a soft devotion in his tenderness with you, an unshakable support in every single thing you do.

"So you gonna undress me too, or...?"

A peal of laughter escapes you as he playfully swats at your butt, "Undress yourself. I've got cooking to do."

A day without hearing your laughter is a day poorly spent to Simon.

He's almost to the door when you pull him back into you, hands tugging on his shirt to bring him down to your height. His own laughter rumbles in his chest as you cover his face in loud kisses, and he stays locked in place. He will for as long as you need him to, never mind his back. If it's gonna go out eventually, he'd rather it go out from his time spent like this.

Johnny, bless the boy, is desperate to hear it, to have you address him directly. You speak plenty around the house, on phone calls with friends, talking back at the tv (some shows have been put on temporary bans, or at the very least you're not supposed to watch them alone), at the lovely crooked cat yall adopted. You shower them with pet names with every breath you take. And he loves it all! Loves that you so willingly share so much of yourself with them. But Johnny boy is dying for something specific- "Love, why don't you call me papi?"

When he voices it, it's a complete surprise. Simon and Kyle both laugh so hard so suddenly that they find themselves choking on their own spit. Price himself is caught so off-guard that he fully looks up from the dinner he's prepping in the kitchen, raw chicken slipping out of his hands and plopping back into the flour bowl. You at first laugh it off lightly, thinking it was one of his cutesy jokes he makes to get a giggle out of everyone. That would have made the most sense, honestly. But when he looks away, big blue eyes shining with the softest hint of embarrassment, it sinks in.

You shift in your seat a fraction, "Johnny, I don't even call any of you that in English. You know it's not exactly the same thing, right?"

"I know but the little old lady from the corner shop calls me "papi" and so does the older man who brings the water and other people too and it's always so affectionate and so I thought..."

He spares a glance at you, hoping he hasn't completely overstepped.

"Where did this come from?"

"Ale let it slip last time we grabbed coffee and the joy on Rudy's face was so blinding that I thought maybe we should try it."

"Honey--"

"Please, just once."

"But I--"

"It doesn't have to be a title! It can be soft and casual, no expectations."

"You don't--"

"I promise I'll be good for it."

Oh.

Your gaze meets the other boys' and you all take a good look at your Johnny. At some point during his pleading he brought himself down to kneel in front of you. His broad shoulders are slumped forward in submission, his hands clenched together so tightly his fingertips are completely white. Price nods at you, the other two eagerly nodding along as well.

Leaning forward, you grab him by the jaw, gently bringing his head to rest against your thigh.

Running your fingers through his hair, you utter out a low, "Sweet little thing like you just wants to be good, don't you papi?"

Johnny's eyes glaze over slightly, a shy, dazed smile growing on his face. There's not an ounce of hesitation in him as he nuzzles his face into your thigh, just sweet elation. Pleased grumbles escape the others, making Johnny's smile grow bigger.

You make sure to add it into your regular circulation.

#poly 141 #poly 141 x reader #poly 141 x latine reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #johnny soap mactavish #captain john price #ghost x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #price x reader #i cannot emphasize the poly of this enough #this is truly some of the most self indulgent shit i've ever written and i've never been happier lmao #honestly this is just precious moments with each of them #i'm definitely going to be writing more 141 x latine reader #prepare to be fucking sick of me #frfr tho this is the first long thing i've written in years and ngl it feels good to be doing it again #also yeah i tend to sprinkle in commas like they're condiments

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novasintheroom · 5 months

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A home for you and me

Combining these two asks since they both ask for the same line! Hope you don't mind <3

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 0.9k

♡ Warnings - none

♡ Description: It's a new chapter in your lives.

Now part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3

It’s a hot day. Most people are avoiding the worst of it by staying indoors, where some have cooling vents from the Plant, and others just have shade.

Vash feels sweat drip down his back, his knuckles lightly cramping around the cloth handles for bags laden with food stuffs. He’s happy with the haul from the market. Fresh fruit and vegetables, with synthetic meat that didn’t look too grey. This town really was a good place to settle down. He’ll have to tell you again when he gets home.

Home.

What a strange concept. Over one-hundred and fifty years on No Man’s Land, and Vash could hardly call any place truly home. Sure, there’s the ship, Home. Luida and Brad are wonderful. But he never wanted to overstay his welcome there, always leaving within a few days to hoof it once again across the deserts and try to repent for his wrongs. And always being on the run as either an outlaw or just an unwanted or unwelcome stranger made it impossible to settle down anywhere.

Until now.

Home comes into view as he rounds a corner. Sitting along a row of similar houses, it’s small, built of metal and rock and precious few beams of wood to bend in the desert winds. Three painted pots sit near the door – a craft you’d insisted on doing to help brighten the outside with more than oranges and browns. The string lights sway in the slight breeze over the doorway, waiting to turn on once the suns dip lower and the shadows come.

Someone might say it’s not much. But give them a century of travel, and it’ll become the best thing a man has seen.

His left hand turns the handle of the door – unlocked, you probably saw him coming through the window – and goes inside.

He only has a moment to hear your squeal and drop the groceries before you launch yourself at him. He catches you, feels your legs wrap around his waist to keep yourself locked in place. He is pummeled by your lips on his jaw, his neck, his cheeks. “Mayfly – !” He’s already overheated, but this is making it worse. “What are you – “

“I’m so happy we have a house!” You exclaim, planting a big kiss on the corner of his mouth. “I’m so happy you get to get groceries!”

Ah, zoomies. You’d been doing this lately, just too happy to have a house to do anything but run around or kiss him. He lets out a laugh, pulling you into a hug to stop your onslaught. “Can I at least shut the door before you decide to pounce on me the moment I come home?” He walks into the hallway, gently kicking the door closed behind.

You snort and pull back with a look. “You know you love it.”

He hums. “I’m sure the neighbors love it too,” he says. Still, he leans forward and catches your lips in a full kiss.

When you pull back, you finally put your feet back to the floor and stoop down to gather the grocery bags. “C’mon, I’ve been rearranging the furniture and I need to get your opinion. Oh, also, one of the neighbors came by and gave us a casserole! Isn’t that weird? She was super nice, though. I think she said she lives a few doors down, but I’ll have to check again. I think she has those two teenage boys that we saw walking earlier. Looked a lot like her!”

You wander down the hall, expecting him to follow at your heels, just like when you travelled. But Vash has to take a moment. You’re carrying groceries instead of supplies for camp. There’s food in the house, a place to safely lay your heads. You cut a beautiful figure, knocking into the corner as you go to the kitchen with what he brought home. Already trusting he got the right supplies, that this is going to work. You want him to look at the furniture.

You pop your head back in the hall when he doesn’t immediately show up. Your face falls, and you’re rushing to him. “Birdie, what’s wrong? Are you alright?” You reach up, and Vash is surprised to feel tears being wiped away. He hadn’t known he was crying. “Did something happen at the market?”

Vash takes a moment to rein it in. Then he pulls you into a tight hug, a watery laugh spilling out. “I’m just…really glad we have a home.”

You coo and rub his back. It still has all the scars and metal plates under the shirt. All the reminders of where he’s been, what he’s gone through. You feel your own tears prick in your eyes. What you would give to make that go away. But it’s what made him the man he is today, and you wouldn’t have him any other way. Your sweet man. You rock him side to side with your feet and whisper, “Me too, sweetheart.”

Vash sniffles into your shoulder, glasses pressed into the crook of your neck. Then he pulls away, sighing and wiping his eyes. “Alright, alright, I’m done.” He laughs. Then, looking down, he asks, “One more kiss? Please?”

With a smile, you say, “See? I knew you loved it.” You go to your tiptoes and press your lips to his.

#trigun #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #tristamp #writing #vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader #self insert #reader insert #nova writes #150 Bullets

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rifting-zenith · 1 year

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Because We Are Family

Pairings: Svarog x gn!reader, reader is familial figure to Clara

Synopsis: Reader is a doctor who tends to the vagrant camp. Bonds are formed and family is found. Fluff.

Word Count: 1,905

You are studying in an apprenticeship under Natasha. You have always cared for the wellbeing of those around you from a young age, so it only felt natural to take up the helm of being a doctor. When you aren’t too busy at the clinic you use your free time to go help out the vagrants at the robot settlement. They are still human no matter their crimes. This is where you meet Clara.

Clara quickly becomes your shadow while you are there, often making small talk with you as you meet her with warm smiles. You often think to yourself, “She’s a lovely, lovely girl.” She reminds you a little of yourself when you were younger.

Everytime you visit Clara goes home that night to Svarog, full of excitement, and tells him of the day she spent with you. She sings your praises time and time again. It is evident you mean an awful lot to Clara. Svarog takes notice of this, how could he not? There is nothing he wouldn’t do for Clara. They are family after all. He adds the memories to his mental files being sure to back it up and back it up again for safe measure.

As you leave the robot settlement, you hum a nameless melody to yourself, not quite paying attention to where you’re going as you kick stones along the path. Suddenly you bump into something hard as rock and cold as ice, falling flat to the ground you spill your supplies. Your first thought should be of your lost supplies, but when you look you're met with an intense glowing ruby stare from a single eye. The gaze pins you to the ground. You can’t look away nor can you seem to formulate the words to apologize. “He’s beautiful” seems to be the only thought crossing your mind at that moment. Svarog bends down towering over your much shorter frame as he reaches around you to pick up the fallen supplies. If he were a man he would be close enough to feel warm breath on your skin, but this being is anything except human. The perfect specimen. Human technology perfected.

After a prolonged moment of silence you finally peel your eyes away.

“I am so sorry I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” You are met with silence that brings a blush of embarrassment to your cheeks.

“You must be Svarog. I’ve heard so much about you from Clara” you say with an anxious laugh. Once everything had been picked up the robot pulled away to stare at you once more. His gaze is cold and calculating almost like it’s staring right through you. It makes you pull your cardigan tighter around your body as if to shield yourself.

"Yes, I am Svarog. I believe these are yours. You must be y/n. Clara speaks very highly of you.” Svarog said in a robotic, smoky voice that brought goose bumps to your skin.

The robot offers you a hand which you gladly take. As you brush the debris and fallen snow off your clothing he stands patiently holding your things.

You begin to reach out to take them from him. He interrupts. “I will walk you home and carry these for you.”

It was so matter of fact that it felt as if there was no room to argue so you just nod. Svarog leads the way as you follow closely behind. You would think for such a big being that he would be much faster. Maybe he was slowing himself down to walk in tune with you. The thought brings a smile to your face. You never thought that a robot would be so human. It’s truly no wonder Clara speaks so fondly of him. After walking for a while in silence Svarog falls back beside breaking the silence.

“Clara tells me what you have done for the vagrants. It is not often you see such an act of kindness from humans.” You smile and look up at the robot taking in his metallic shell with the midnight blue finish. He reminds you of the familiar night sky of the overworld that you have not seen in so long evoking a fond feeling.

“I wouldn’t say it’s an act of kindness, more like a civil duty as a doctor.” you remark. Met with more silence, you begin to feel uneasy as if maybe you had spoken wrong.

He speaks up, saying "You are being too modest. I have lived here for some time and seen the many horrors that humans have committed against each other in the name of survival.” His to the point way of speaking was more reassuring than you had expected. Svarog was more than you had expected.

“Yes, life down here has been hard since they closed it off ten years ago. I do not blame everyone for how they react though. Everyone is just trying to survive to the best of their abilities.” Svarog pauses for a moment, stopping in the road as if computing the response you had just given him.

“I see,” he says, nodding his head before beginning to walk again.

Time passes quickly as you and Svarog walk in tandem, talking of life underground and of sweet, young Clara. If there was anything you had in common with the robot it was how much you both adored her. Before you know it you are at your door.

“Well, we're here.” you say with a sad smile at your time together coming to an end.

“Here are your things.” Svarog says aloud as he hands you your supplies. As Svarog turns and begins to leave, you shout from your doorstep.

“Wait! Will I see you again?”

The being turns around when he speaks. “Yes. I am certain you will.” You watch as the robot disappears into the cool air of the night before entering your home.

When Svarog returns home he is met with a smiling Clara.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” He asks, staring down at her small frame. She puts her hands behind back and shifts from foot to foot staring at them.

“Yes I should, but I wanted to tell you about my day” she says meekly.

“You may tell me about your day, but then it is to bed with you. Eight hours of sleep a night is essential for human health and development.” The young girl beams from ear to ear. This time when Clara rambles on and on about her day in camp with you Svarog listens intently, being sure to ask many questions about you and her time spent with you.

You still return to the vagrant camp making your rounds doing what you can for the people there, but now instead of one shadow, you have two. Svarog’s large frame has a much more noticeable presence than Clara’s even if he is silent, which he never is. He is always sure to ask how your day is and what you're doing and why exactly it is you’re doing it. It makes you happy that the robot is taking such an interest in the world around him, taking such an interest in your world. You can’t help but notice that everyone seems to be on their best behavior with him around. It makes you giggle to yourself. You might as well be walking around with a giant guard dog. His reputation truly precedes him.

As the months go by your spare supplies dwindle down into almost nothing. One day at the vagrant camp you run completely out. With a sad sigh you tell those in need of your assistance that you will be back as soon as you can.

“What are you going to do, y/n?” Clara asks with eyebrows knitted together in worry.

“I’m going to Rivet Town to gather whatever I can.” You give Clara a reassuring smile.

"You can’t, it’s not safe!” Clara exclaims.

“You don’t need to worry about me. It’ll all be okay.” You assure the young girl, giving her a rub on the head. You turn around and begin to set off hitching your empty bag up on your shoulder. Walking away, you turn around and give one last wave to Clara who stands completely still watching you go with tears in her eyes. Once you are out of sight Clara takes off running looking for Svarog. Where is he when she desperately needs him?!

Clara eventually finds the being after searching high and low tinkering with his robots in some secluded room in the home they share together. She takes a moment to put her hands to her knees and catch her breath. Svarog is immediately alarmed, taking the girl's tear stained cheeks. With rasped breaths and through wobbly words she explains what has happened and where you went. Svarog tells her to stay put and he will take care of it. With no other words he sets off.

All is going well in Rivet Town. You’ve found almost all of the supplies you needed and are happy that you haven’t run into anyone or anything that delays you. That is, until you see a large fragmentum monster creep out of the shadows. Biting back a scream it stalks towards you. As quickly as you can, you take your things and run as quickly as you can in the opposite direction, running as fast as your legs can take you. Sadly you are out of shape and are beginning to lose steam.

As you begin to slow down, fear takes hold and you’re worried that these breathless moments may be your last. Stopping completely to catch your breath, you look over your shoulder to survey the scene. You see the creature coming closer and closer at an alarming rate. You let out the loudest scream your lungs can muster and close your eyes, bracing for impact. Except the impact never comes.

You hear the loud boom of a cannon over your head and look up. Much to your surprise, you see Svarog hovering over you in a protective stance, one arm extended towards the fragmentum beast that now fades away on the ground. Looking at your savior, your knight in shining armor, you become overwhelmed with emotion and begin to cry. Svarog bends down and picks up your small figure.

“There is no need to cry. You are safe now” the robot coos while using his cool metal fingers to wipe away your tears. With a sniffle you throw your arms around him in relief.

“I am so happy to see you. I thought I would never see you or Clara again” you lament.

“What you thought were your last thoughts… were of us?” he asks inquisitively.

“I suppose all the time we’ve spent together I've come to view you guys as something close to family. You guys are the closest thing I have besides Natasha.” you reply in a hushed tone.

“Do you think you can walk back with me?” he asks. You shake your head no because your legs might as well be jelly after all that running. In one fell swoop he picks you up into the bridal position.

“Where are you taking me?” you inquire.

“Home.”

“Your home or mine?”

“Ours.” With a smile you lean up and kiss the robot on his cheek and swear that if robots could smile, he would be.

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saltymongoose · 1 year

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Hi coming in with another silly idea Imagine that the Player is in early Nevada, and around the time Nexus is supposed to fall they fall into a type of coma. Jeb goes through with his plan (painfully without the player by his side), Hofnarr turns into Tricky with his last thoughts begging for the Player to come back. Phobos' fight being much more easy due to the fact he thinks his god abandoned him. Then the Player comes back like "hey sorry about that" and Jeb starts wailing while Tricky goes YIPPEE and runs around them like an excited dog.

Why is everything you draw so cute omg 😭, everyone is so adorable here. It's honestly a little weird to see the Employers look so huggable, I love it.

To actually get into the scenario though, my thoughts on this are far too long to make it into a normal ask response, so you're getting some sort of unofficial hcs instead lol. Enjoy!

<The Player Falls into a Coma before the Fall> ft. Jebus, Hofnarr/Tricky, the Employers & Phobos

(TW: Yandere)

There was no warning for your sudden coma whatsoever. At most, you felt a tad more exhausted than usual at the end of the day, but this can be attributed to many different things, so of course you wouldn't worry about it. Neither would anyone else either, for that matter.

You had absolutely no idea that when you slowly fell asleep that night, you wouldn't be waking up again for a very long time.

It certainly wouldn’t take long for those you know to find out about your condition either. For one, Hofnarr and Jeb would want to recap their plan with you before going through with it, so naturally they stopped by for that. However, they find you unconscious and completely unresponsive to their every attempt to wake you. To make matters worse, there isn't a sign that you'd been awake at all in the past few days; the buildup of dust on your furniture and the letters in your mailbox shows as much.

Despite their worry, they’d eventually have to leave your side, if only to get more medical supplies and other things to help you. This opens up a window for the others in your life to finally take action, those being the Employers.

The shadowy figures had been keeping tabs on you all the time, so when you just didn't wake up, they would probably be the first to know - even if their actions came second to the Nexus Scientist's.

(You didn’t send the Deliberator a “good morning” text and he started panicking. What could possibly be so bad that you didn't speak to him? A cursory call to the worried AAHW agents the Auditor had sent to tail you was proof enough that you'd deviated from your usual schedule, and you weren't the type to ever be late.)

They were quick to take you from your home and to a more secret place, so that they could keep close observation over you.

Honestly, despite how much the Employers might brag about knowing you better than anyone else (a privilege they gained from being the first to realize your existence), they truly know little about your anatomy. However, they can tell that sleeping for full days isn't normal at all, judging by your previous behavior.

They're also far too stubborn to ask any other mortals for help as well, so they simply resigned to try to help you themselves while keeping you safe with them. They couldn't do much else, so hopefully you'd understand that once you awoke in a strange place.

Nevada rots without your guidance and the grunts you were close to were left reeling by this (unintentional) abandonment you committed.

Phobos loses much of his drive due to his own emotional frailty as he grappled with his uncharacteristic self-doubt and questioning. As it happens, this also makes him more zealous as well. In his last moments, he has a second wind, believing that if he just fights hard enough, you might decide to come back and help him in his battle against Christoff. (But you don't. You couldn't.)

Jebus' feelings are surprisingly parallel to the Director's in terms of worship and near zealotry. Except, he believes it might be his fault that you left, which only increases the fervor he has to complete his plans. It will be painful without you there, but this agony is his repentance for the sins which he has wronged you with. It is only through this that he believes you might show your presence once more, even if it’s not now.

Unfortunately, Hofnarr's transformation into Tricky was just as painful as it would be otherwise, and the pain of abandonment just makes it worse. Funny, how the pictures taken of you with him and Christoff were miraculously unscathed within Hofnarr's lab even after Tricky came to be. The zombified clown must have found some value in them, even if he couldn’t remember the complete reason why he felt so warm when he looked at them.

Of course, you did actually awaken eventually. You had no idea how much time had passed when you woke up, so seeing the Employers look so uncharacteristically worried when you woke up was really odd. You honestly think they’d be weepy if they had the ability to cry.

You really didn’t know how to react to the news that you’d essentially been in a coma for thirty years. Your first course of action is to find Jeb and Tricky to find out what actually happened since you feared your early appearance might’ve had an impact on the timeline regarding Nevada’s fall. This leads to very different reactions.

Jeb isn't one to typically show much vulnerability, but seeing you again completely shatters those walls he's kept up for so long. At first, he thinks you're just a hallucination; the culmination of all the longing he has for you finally taking its toll on his broken mind as almost a cruel joke.

The first words he speaks to you after thirty years is a short, "You're not real", said as more of an insistence to himself than anything. But when he comes closer and you don’t disappear, and he reaches out a trembling hand to rest lightly on your shoulder, and you stay, he just breaks. The warmth of your form washes over him like it used to, and suddenly he feels an uncomfortable tightness well up in his throat as tears gather in his eyes.

You reach up to hold his taller form closer to you, sinking to the ground with him as he buries his face into your neck and sobs. His hold on you is soft, and his hands are still shaky; he's holding you like he's scared of shattering you, and he only gets weaker when you whisper soothing words and apologies to him.

Compared to Jebus, your meeting with Tricky was a lot more upbeat. It’s probably because he was spared much of the reflection and sorrow that Jeb went through due to his rather unstable mental state, but that didn’t stop him from somehow recognizing you. It’s almost like a switch flipped in his mind, and he went from violently slamming his sign into some poor grunt's face to freezing at the sight of your face.

He then tosses the sign away and almost launches himself at you to envelop you in a tight bear hug, screaming excitedly while you grin back rather tiredly. (You hope your eardrums will be okay after this.) But in the next second, he's whirling away from you, flailing his hands as he continues to talk.

It’s like being greeted by your dog after being away for months; he never stops moving or asking hurried questions about where you’ve been, intermittent with little words about how much he’s missed you.

Both Jeb and Tricky are very clingy after this. Even if they don't get along now, they're not willing to let you leave their sides after this, especially not when you go to sleep. (What if you fall into a coma again? Someone has to be there to take care of you.)

Deep down, they also have a striking suspicion that someone was behind your coma. They didn't know who exactly, but there was no other explanation to them than this. How else would you, Nevada's most powerful being, fall into such a state?

(In the near future, when you come across Hank and the others, let's just say that your scientists won't be deterred from leaving your side quite so easily. You'd been gone for thirty years, so you should only expect their companionship to remain more permanent for the coming years.)

#the Player looks very tired which is a vibe #idk what this answer is exactly but I hope it's satisfactory lol #ask #distressedwalnut #mutuals ✨#other's art #fav #it's about gd time #tw: yandere #madness combat x reader

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dearharriet · 2 months

Note

hi, beautiful! congrats on your 150! I wanted to request James Potter +Tangled on your

🪷 send me a character + one of the following movies to write a drabble for...

(English is definitely not my first language so I'm sorry if this isn't sp clear)

thank you, gorgeous! this was such a fun combo to start off with <3 also, your request was perfect, so don’t worry! (wc: 882)

Lush green turns yellow and purple at sunset, and you can’t get enough of it. It’s like the whole world is wrapped around you, cool and prickly and real and right beneath your fingertips.

The stream is smooth and lazy, shining an image of the pink sky back at your hung head. You focus on that instead of the mounting fear of spending your first night outside the tower.

Under the intensity of the setting sun, the foliage around your camp takes on matching shadows. The contrast is scary, but it’s also beautiful, something you’d love to paint if you had your supplies.

That’s a dangerous path of thought, one that you shut down immediately. Even brushing against the idea of paint makes your insides wither with dread, reminded of your poor mother who’d gone to get you more—your mother who’s likely worried sick about you now.

“Alright?”

Lifting from your mopey posture, you find your companion returning with a sizable collection of firewood.

James seems to be in good spirits, all things considered. He’s been nice enough, though you can admit you’d worried that the guard-chase and near drowning might sour his attitude.

“I’m great,” you reassure him, plastering a smile on your face. Now’s not the time to show any weakness, no matter how frightened you might be.

Returning with a grimace, James dumps his armful where he stands and approaches you.

“Y’know, it’s not too late to go home.”

James has been saying this at every juncture of your adventure, desperate to dump you back at your tower and be rid of you. There’s no reason for that to sting now, after everything.

“Uh-uh. If you want me gone, you’ll have to try harder than that.”

With a frown, he settles in next to you, watching the horizon hesitantly.

“As if,” he says, though he’s lacking any real quip. “No, I just uh…I know all this wasn’t what you had in mind when you set out with me.”

You fiddle with a strand of hair. He’s really asking, you realize. With a puff of nervous laughter, you shake his sobriety off.

“Well, I didn’t really have anything in mind. Tall tower, remember?”

“Yeah,” James scoffs, “yeah, a pretty safe tower, too. And spacious.”

“And lonely,” you add.

Sighing, he nods his reluctant agreement.

“True, but there are worse things out there than being lonely, sweetheart. Things that might really hurt you.”

You take that in, staring at James with an odd curiosity. His shoulders are hunched around his ears, his hair flopping untamed into his eyes—courtesy of the unplanned swim you both took. It’s like looking at a completely different person, seeing James without his criminal bravado. Seeing him…unsure.

“James Potter, are you…are you worried about me?”

He straightens immediately, and while you mourn the loss of the gooey center you caught a glimpse of, you like to see him squirm, too.

“Wha-hat? Please. No, I'm trying to get away from you, and if you die you might be able to haunt me. I’m taking preliminary steps to prevent that.”

“Right,” you snip back sarcastically, “haunting.”

You might be sheltered, but you’re old enough now to know that ghosts aren’t real. James seems to see this in your expression, so he stands petulantly and stalks back towards his pile of sticks.

“Whatever, I’m not talking afterlife with a girl whose hair glows.”

Laughing, you watch him go, now truly missing his window of sincerity. For a sudden moment you almost feel it’s worse to be lonely outside of your tower than in it, and it sends a crack of fear down your center all over again.

Gathering some of your hair in your arms, you hold it to you like a stuffed toy, searching for any comfort you can find.

“James?”

“What now, trouble?”

Worrying your lip, you begin to second guess yourself, but an impatient glance from James encourages you.

“Do you really think I’d be better off going back?”

This takes his attention again, his hands ceasing their fire-building. Over the small pit he’d assembled, he considers you, jaw working.

You know what he’ll say, your frame braced for his resounding yes. You’re not sure why the thought carves your chest open when he’s never been anything but against this agreement. You wanted to prove your mother wrong, show her how capable you are, but it seems everybody but you agrees on the falsity of that statement.

Eventually, James sighs, a self-abasing sound that doesn’t give you much hope.

“Do you really want to see those lanterns?”

Once again, he seems completely sincere in his asking.

Even though you know the answer, know it like your own name, you stop to consider his question and all it entails. Not just if you want to see the lanterns, but if you’re willing to do what it takes to make it there. So far, you haven’t disappointed yourself, and you find the insatiable fire in your belly is only burning hotter than when you left.

“More than anything,” you say, and you make sure to steel your voice with all the determination you feel. James smiles, that small window returning.

“Then don’t let anything stand in your way,” he tells you, his eyes locked on yours. “Not even me.”

thank you for reading! xx

join the celebration!

masterlist

#harriet’s 150 celebration #james potter #marauders #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james fleamont potter #james potter blurb #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter fanfiction #james potter au #marauders au #marauders fandom #harry potter

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yaksha-lover · 9 months

Note

hi i hope you’re doing well :)

could you do a fic on cater or jade in the vampire au?

thank you <3

I went with Jade for this one! Thanks for the request, I’m sorry I took a long time with it <3

cw: slightly mean/manipulative jade, vampire things (blood drinking), minor wounds (cut), suggestive(ish)

“Oh dear, there’s no need for tears~” Jade says, half-patronizing as he strokes your hair. His condescension almost makes you pull away, but his other arm is locked tight around your back. You aren’t sure if the act is more comforting or distressing; maybe a mix of both.

It’s a bit humiliating that he treats you like a sulking child, but you’re greatful that he at least allows you to bury your face in his shoulder. It’s nice to know he can’t see your messy cheeks and puffy eyes, even if he can imagine it from your desolate state.

“Trouble in paradise, my dear?” he teases, after your heaves have turn to soft sniffles. It’s annoying that he acts as though he doesn’t already know the answer; it’s hardly the first time you’ve sought his comfort. Or rather, the first time he’s caught you in this kind of state. No, the sudden bursts of dread feel like they’ve been going on forever.

“Something like that,” you mumble, lifting your head enough from his shoulder to wipe away any stray tears. You turn to face away from him as you separate from his chest. Thankfully, no one else in the mansion ever comes in this wing. You can feel Jade’s curious gaze examining you from his place beside you on the couch; you suppose you owe him at least an explanation for your state. “I’ve just been thinking about my home. I…I want to go home.”

Jade’s arm stiffens around your back almost immeasurably, but you’ve finally been around him enough to spot the cracks in his veneer. His free hand comes to rest on your own and for a second you believe you might experience a moment of genuine connection with him: “I am truly sorry to hear you’re missing home, darling,” Jade says, voice free of mockery. “But,” he continues, fingers tilting your chin to face him, “You know Lilia would never allow such a thing.” His tone may be neutral and disinterested, but Jade’s eyes are sharp and cold, completely unfitting his sympathetic words.

“I know,” you say, unable to separate your annoyance from your tone. Jade doesn’t take too well to your newfound feeling; he really only seems to like the emotions that leave you crumbled in his arms.

“However, I do believe he could be persuaded. Perhaps Azul may even be inclined to help you out. ”

Azul continues his paperwork as he replies to your request: “How about a night on the town? If a taste of freedom is what you’re seeking, I could make that happen. Lilia does owe me for setting up the supply of blood that gets delivered to the mansion, after all.”

“Alright,” you reply. “What’s the catch?”

“It will take a certain price. As a magic-less human, you don’t have much to offer me,” Azul says, flashing you his best customer service smile. “Except, perhaps, the only thing you have that the others don’t.”

“How much?”

Azul’s smile widens: “Only a pint, no more than you would give at a human hospital. It’s perfectly safe, I promise you.”

Figures Azul would be the first one to get his hands on your blood. You’re not even sure what he wants to collect it for, but you don’t have many options left.

“Deal.”

“How did you know?” you ask Jade, sitting across from him in the restaurant booth.

“I know many things, dear. You’ll need to be more specific,” Jade says, sipping elegantly at his drink.

“That I wanted to come here. I don’t remember telling you about this place.” You look around at the mahogany tables; the restaurant is small so there’s only a couple of them. The quiet was one of the things you’d loved about this restaurant.

“Not me. You have told your little friends though. Ace was quite happy to tell me all about your favourite places at the right price.” Jade’s face remains neutral as he scans the room. “This place is quite cute. I can see why you find it endearing.”

“You extorted Ace into telling you about me?!”

“Extorted? No, we made quite the fair deal. Ask him about it later, if you wish. I only did so to make you happy, MC.”

It’s hard to argue with him on that; despite his questionable means, Jade often did have your best interests in mind. You felt frustrated at the rush of heat to your cheeks. Even though your mind knew better, it was hard to keep your heart from stopping the affectionate warmth when you thought about what Jade had done for you.

“Well. Thanks then, I guess.”

Jade smiles gently behind his glass. “You’re very welcome, my dear.”

The waiter comes to take your orders, and you find for the rest of the night that being out with Jade really does take your mind off of things.

Jade corners you against the wall as soon as you enter the mansion together.

“Azul has gotten his payment already, but I don’t think I have. Don’t you think I deserve some equal compensation for what I’ve done for you?”

“I-I don’t have anything to give you. What do you want?” you ask, half-dreading, half-excited for his response.

Jade brushes a hand over your hair, until it lands at the base of your neck. He leans in close until you can feel his hot breath on your skin: “Oh, I think you have plenty to give me. One might even say you’re greedy, keeping all this intoxicating blood to yourself.”

“I can’t, I already gave some to Azul! If I give any more today I’ll pass out.” You say, although you know rationality is a lost cause if Jade has decided this is what he wants. Your own rationality is steadily slipping away, too, being replaced by the desire for him to give you something else to distract you.

“You know, Floyd has told me all about how tasty you are~ There’s only so much a vampire can take, my dear. You curl into my chest, holding me for comfort and spreading your sweet smell so close to me…” Jade scratches his fangs gently across your skin, not piercing the flesh but still sending a shiver down your back. Just as you close your eyes and brace yourself for the prick of pain, Jade has removed himself from you entirely.

When you open your eyes, Jade stands in front of you. He seems to stifle a sound of amusement: “Kidding, of course. You didn’t really think I would take blood from you, did you? I would never harm you, my dear. Well, not unless you wanted me to.” Jade says with his typical deceptively pleasant smile.

“I wouldn’t.” You reply flatly, brushing past him to the kitchen. You don’t know who you’re more irritated at: him, for acting like he wanted to take your blood, or you, for wanting him too.

“Ah, I am sorry, I see my jest may have frightened you more than I intended. Perhaps I can make it up to you.” Jade says, picking up a small bag you hadn’t noticed him place on the floor earlier. “I had to make a deal with him, but I got Azul to find a supplier for these fruits for you. I know they’re your favourites.”

It’s both endearing and terrifying to realize how well Jade actually knows you. He offers to prepare them for you, but you decline: “I can do it. You’ve…already done too much for me today.”

Jade pats your head. “If you insist.”

You ask him to wait on the couch while you go into the kitchen with the fruit. Lost in thought with ambivalent feelings about the vampire you’ve spent all day with, the knife slips and makes a small cut on your finger. You hiss and go to the sink to wash it but Jade entering the kitchen stops you.

“Hm, so clumsy, it seems I’ll have to keep a closer eye on you.” Jade says, catching your wrist. He rotates your hand until he can see your cut, popping your finger into his mouth. You hate that when he looks back up at you, still sucking on your finger, he smirks at how flustered you’ve obviously become. He finally releases you a few moments later. “Vampiric saliva does have healing properties, but it’s best if we further clean and disinfect it.”

When you don’t protest, Jade pulls you out of the kitchen and onto the couch. He comes back a couple minutes later with supplies. After disinfecting your cut, he places a bandaid on it.

“Thank you, Jade.” For all his faults, he has taken good care of you.

“You’re welcome, my dear. It’s getting rather late, let me walk you back to your room.”

“Yes, because the mansion is so incredibly dangerous at night.” Jade gives a polite chuckle at your statement, but his grip on your hand doesn’t lessen.

“With you being so…accident-prone, it seems better to be safe than sorry, no?” Jade says.

You refuse to argue with him anymore, so the two of you continue on your way. It’s only when you’ve arrived at your door, ready to say good night to him, that he whispers in your ear: “Floyd wasn’t exaggerating it seems. Your blood truly was addicting.”

With that he’s gone back down the hall, and you enter your room, heart racing.

#damn finally made it out of the drafts #jade leech x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #jade leech #azul ashengrotto #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland vampire au #twst vampire au #twst jade #twst jade x reader

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theogonies · 1 year

Text

poor, unfortunate soul: genshin characters as yandere

characters: diluc, yelan, xiao, sucrose, & childe

word count: 1.8k

content warnings: psychological manipulation, naive reader, implications of physical violence (diluc, xiao, childe), kidnapping/captivity (diluc, childe), stalking (sucrose, xiao), otherwise gn!reader is referred to as onee-chan once (sucrose), ANGST (childe </3), dark content, minors and ageless blogs do not interact

yeah i promised the next one would be fluff but i had to get this out of my system. barbatos forgive me.

DILUC: TREASURED POSSESSION.

If only you knew how much harder this is for him than it is for you. Diluc hates seeing you so angry and upset, as he'll tell you time and time again--preferably while he cradles you against his chest. And, well, if you must cry and fight him and curse his name, it's understandable, really. When he promised that he would remain by your side no matter what, he meant it. Even if that meant you learning to hate him.

He keeps telling himself that someday, you'll grow accustomed to never seeing beyond the walls of Dawn Winery. He's done everything within his power to make your cage a comfortable one: lavish bedding and furniture imported from the world's finest craftsmen, private libraries and supplies to furnish any hobby imaginable, even a sunlit atrium for you to enjoy the splendor of the outside world in safety. He knows that it's hard for you. Any change will inevitably require an adjustment period, but at least you have him standing at your side, loyal as ever, to get you through.

And what else was he supposed to do? No matter how many times he warned you of the dangers that lie outside Mondstadt's walls, you refused to listen, just kept gallivanting about on your adventures as if your life didn't matter to anyone but yourself.

Diluc knows the truth of how frail humans can be, though; so if you're going to keep behaving so stupidly with the precious thing that is your life, it doesn't leave him any other options than to store you away somewhere safe from harm. He knows that it's objectifying to treat you like a painting too valuable to be displayed to public eyes. But what other choice does he have?

He feels guilty for treating you so cruelly, he truly does. But he's also clever. When your stubbornness refuses to fade, when you keep fighting him and struggling to escape, you find that the servants start to disappear, one by one. And that's when you realize that he's using your own loneliness as a cudgel against you, so that when he returns to you in the early hours of morning with blood on his shirt collar and a haunted look in his eyes, when he needs your comfort most of all, you don't have any choice but to give it to him.

In Diluc's eyes, this is just what love is: a union of mutual obligation. And, to his credit, in time you both find this to be true. Because no matter where the walls stand, a home is only safe when you're both in it.

YELAN: DOUBLE AGENT.

If she weren't so perceptive, you may never have found yourself in this mess in the first place. But unlucky for you, Yelan recognized the puppy love crush you'd developed on her for what it was sooner than you did--and, with the sharp instincts of a gambler and the pragmatism of a spy, she took full advantage of the situation.

After all, there isn't much point in mastering the art of manipulation if you don't get to take something for yourself now and then. Yelan plays you like a fiddle, teasing you with little touches and praise only to rebuff your advances the moment you work up the courage to make them. It doesn't take long for you to become her favorite toy: so sweet, so patient, so deliciously naive.

It's not that she's completely cold to your affection; really, she would feel worse about her on-and-off affections, but it's not like you're not also getting something out of the situation. In exchange for your loyalty, Yelan allows you a precious glimpse into the powerful, resilient woman that lies beneath her assuaging public persona. Not many are allowed to be so close to her; fewer still are such consistent targets of her attention, hot and cold as it may be.

In time, you're even able to reveal an entirely new facet of Yelan's personality: her deep, all-abiding sense of jealousy. Never one to go into fits of rage, she still finds herself simmering with resentment every time her toy's interest is caught, however shallowly and briefly, by someone else.

More and more, she finds herself using the same tools that snared your affection in the first place to ensure that it belongs to her and only her; after all, the world is a cold and unforgiving place, isn't it? People can be so dishonest in their intentions, but to you, Yelan will always remain true. You've seen beneath the mask, and isn't it better to be a treasured plaything than that poor, lost puppy she first met?

XIAO: SCARY DOG PRIVILEGES.

There's something almost endearing about Xiao's clumsy affection for you. Such a fearsome man, and yet he can hardly speak to you without a flush in his cheeks. He fetches you crystalflies and glaze lilies to adorn your hair, shows you hot springs tucked between the mountains and stands guard while you bathe, even does your household chores as you sleep. Liyue's Guardian Yaksha lives at your beck and call.

He chases you so innocently that it's easy to forget he's not just the Guardian Yaksha, but the fearsome Dream Eater--and his adoration of you is no less relentless than his pursuit of the demons that haunt the land. And what cause could you ever have to suspect him of foul play? If he vanishes for a suspiciously long period of time, if the next time you see him he's marked with bruises and bloodstains--well, he has his own duties. Patching each others' wounds has been part of your routines for as long as you've known each other.

Come to think of it, it is strange that you've suddenly found yourself able to wander the streets alone late at night without issue; that even in the seediest of taverns, no one seems inclined to bother you. Stranger still is that whenever you think you've made a new friend they seem to ghost you, but then, some people are just unlucky, aren't they?

Besides, you can't complain; not with such a loyal Yaksha at your side, always ready to kiss away your tears with a kind of reverence that would make even gods tremble.

SUCROSE: STALKER CRUSH.

She's had her eyes on you for some time now. Not that you would be able to tell--she's made sure of that. To you, Sucrose is just another one of Mondstadt's townsfolk. Sure, her eyes seem to light up whenever she looks at you, but that's nothing to be concerned about. She's so painfully shy that even if she did have a crush, she would never do anything about it, right?

Unlike the others, Sucrose moves slowly and methodically in her machinations. She watches patiently, following you from the shadows, approaching the people you're close to to ask questions about you. Before long, she knows all your preferences: your dating history, the friends you keep, even your turn ons and turn offs. And once she's collected all the information she could possibly need (and then some), that's when she strikes.

She starts simply: an offer to help develop some new tools for your adventures in exchange for reagents that only a traveler like you would have access to. And, lo and behold, you have far more in common with this shy little alchemist than you ever would've expected. It's like she's always ready to finish your sentences for you, and such a reliable, sensitive friend, too. Despite her busy work life, she's always ready to lend a listening ear to your troubles, often with your favorite flavor of ice cream and one of her snuggly plushies in hand, fully prepared to comfort you.

Little do you know all the work she's done to reach this level of trust with you: the months of preparation just to speak to you for the first time, the long nights spent reading all your favorite books, the pictures of you she keeps pinned to her walls. Little do you know that you're not the reason why all your romantic endeavors seem to keep failing.

It's just that, when Sucrose looks up at you with those big, glassy eyes and calls you her onee-chan, it's so easy to forget that you hardly know a single thing about her.

CHILDE: CHILDHOOD SWEETHEART.

You lost your love a long time ago. Intellectually, you've known that to be true since you were fourteen and found your first heartbreak. But it's still so easy to look in Ajax's eyes and pretend you see the same light in them that you saw before.

It was better when he first came home. At least then, he was content to leave you as you'd always been: just another of Morepesok's villagers, the one person he could trust to keep an eye on his family in his absence. You cared for his siblings, and you wrote him letters, and sometimes, he would come home just long enough for you to pretend that everything was as it always had been.

Sometimes you still wonder what happened: whether something snapped when the boy you loved became a Harbinger, or whether you were just too stupid to see how deeply the Abyss changed him. It's a useless thought exercise, but at least it's something to keep you busy as you wander the halls of Tartaglia's wing in the Fatui headquarters, waiting for his return.

It was easier at first, when he kept you shut away in your bedroom, playacting your doting husband even as you spat on him and cursed his name. He would cajole you with lies and empty promises, that he was the same man he'd always been, that he was forced to kidnap you like this in order to protect you from his enemies. But his taste for spitfires had finally backfired on him, because even as the months passed, you refused to give in, blanketing your fear in hatred.

But Childe is tricky; and while he may have changed, you haven't. He knows exactly what makes you tick, which buttons to press to gain your trust. All it takes is a door left unlocked, your desperation too feverish to question why, and you'll quickly discover that his fellow Harbingers harbor a thousand horrors for every nightmare you've dreamed of the Abyss and every glimpse you've caught of the ruthless killer that lies beneath your lover's pleasant facade. And when those monsters are the only alternatives, at least you still have familiar arms to fall back into.

So you acquiesce, trading your spirit for a semblance of freedom. And in time, you'll learn to believe that even if the Tsaritsa's Childe will never be your Ajax, you can learn to love him just the same.

#ronan writes #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #diluc x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #ajax x reader #xiao x reader #yelan x reader #sucrose x reader #genshin headcanons

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din-miller · 6 months

Text

Safe and Sound

Pairing: Tech x gender neutral reader

Word count: 460

Summary: Comfortember day one: safe

Warnings: mentions of vomit but not graphic, reader gets taken by imperial guards, crosshair is with the batch, hurt/comfort, married couple, angst with a happy ending

A/N: help, it’s November 3rd and I just found out about Comfortember. I’m not sure how many I’ll be able to pump out, especially since I’m trying to do domestic december and have twenty wips collecting dust in google docs. I wrote this on the second so it’s still technically by birthday right now. This is my gift to myself. Divider by @saradika

Safe

Four letters, one word whispered in your ear as arms wrapped around you from behind, keeping you close as you sat on the dark cell-block's floor.

You’re safe

You’re okay

I got you

Words whispered again and again, like he’s waiting for you to believe him and you can’t blame him. For the longest time you weren’t safe, you weren’t okay; you were alone. For days, weeks – a full month, Tech informed you, his voice full of raw emotion, nothing like the monotone you’ve come to love.

He doesn’t let go of you, doesn’t care that your hair is unwashed. That your skin is caked with dirt, dried vomit, snot and all kinds of gross stuff and has been for longer than you’re fully able to comprehend at the moment. Tech, your riduur, simply doesn’t bat an eyelash as his lips pressed against your sweaty temple.

“Tech?” You finally managed to find your voice, wincing at the dryness of your throat as you force yourself to speak, “Is everyone okay? Did everyone make it out?”

Your body is pulled back further into Tech’s embrace, a canteen of water pressed against your lips and he slowly urges you to drink a few sips. Once the water was set aside Tech jaw clenched audibly and answered, “You turned yourself in to imperial guards. I understand they were going to kill innocent civilians if you hadn’t, but if you had told us, comm’d us, we would have found another way, cyar’ika. You were gone for five weeks. None of us are okay.”

“I’m sorry,” You choked out an apology, even though you know none of this was truly your fault. It’s the Empire’s, you know that, but that doesn’t stop the tears from rolling down your face, “Maker, I’m so sorry-,”

“Shh,” Tech soothed, hands rubbing up and down your arms, bringing warmth to your body. You hadn’t realised how cold you are until now. You tucked your face into the crook of his neck, “It’s all going to be okay, cyar’ika. Wrecker and Hunter are clearing us a path out of here and Echo has the medbay ready for our arrival. You’re safe, we’re going home.”

Later that night, tucked against Tech’s side, you’ll finally breathe out in relief, safely surrounded by your riduur and kin. For the next few weeks to come you’ll constantly be shadowed by one of the Batch.

Omega and Wrecker will make sure you have a never-ending supply of mantell mix. Echo will make sure every meal you have is homemade, smacking away any hands that try to steal your food. Hunter and Crosshair will be just plain insufferable.

It’ll feel like too much at times but it’s all a reminder that you are safe.

#tech x reader #married couple | the bad batch #the bad batch #justice joy writes #tech x gender neutral reader #tbb tech #tbb fanfiction #comfortember

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uniquevoidflowers · 6 months

Text

This is based off of @la-sera's art! Here's the link to the art piece:

tw blood and temporary character death:

“SAILOR!” Warriors yelled as he shielded himself from a Moblin.

He saw the sailor crumple to the ground, the monster looking proud of itself. The captain saw red. Without thinking he dashed to the beast that dared to hurt Wind, his massive blue scarf trailing behind him. His sword ripped through the monster guts and flesh. The monster was dead in mere seconds. A cry from a different monster alerted Warriors and he swiftly dodged an attack. In blind rage he tore at each beast ferociously. Each swing was feral and had no real training attached to it, unlike all the other times the captain fought. The rest of the battle was a blur, but all the enemies dropped to he ground eventually. That was when Warriors realized he had left Wind bleeding on the battleground. “NO!” He shouted, internally cursing at himself.

The captain rushed to the sailor and saw that Wind was on his hands and knees shakily trying to get up but stumbling and falling limply back on the ground. Crimson red liquid was soaking the wet ground beneath the sailor and Warriors stomach churned. Wind hiccuped miserably and Warriors pulled the kid up in his arms and grabbed his long scarf. He wrapped it around Wind and felt the bitter and freezing air, but he didn’t care at all. He just kept holding on tight to the sailor, applying as much pressure as he could as his hands were slowly being covered in red. “Wars…You’re shaking…” Wind said quietly.

Warriors gave a hollow chuckle at the kid’s worry. “I just…feel cold, I’m fine.”

“You liar.” Wind accused, and then coughed suddenly, thick blood starting to gush out of his nose and mouth.

Warriors gripped the kid tighter, eyes going wide. He knew there wasn’t much he could do since they didn’t have any fairies or potions or…really any supplies with them. His mouth opened but nothing came out.

“Wars?”

“Yes, Wind?”

“If I don’t make it—“

“Wind, stop.”

The captain couldn’t bear the thought of that. Letting the kid…

“Please…Wars…” Wind gave a weak cough.

“…Okay, Wind.” Warriors relented.

“If I don’t make it through this…Tell Aryll I’m sorry…I wasn’t a good big brother to her.” Wind demanded, breaking off with a shudder.

There was a small smile on the kid’s face as tears poured from his eyes. “Hey now, I don’t think she would want that. I know that she would disagree with you.” Warriors tried.

He remembered the time they were at Wind’s Hyrule and Aryll had pulled the captain aside to talk about something.

“You make sure Link stays safe and comes home alive and in one piece, m’kay? He’s the best big brother I could’ve asked for, and I don’t want anything to happen to him!”

“Wars…please…”

“Fine, I will.”

Warriors didn’t know if he was lying or not. Wind inhaled shakily and then gave a forced exhale. The captain looked down at the kid and his worry only grew.

Was…was the sailor truly going to die here? In battle? In a different era, a faraway land that is so far away from his loved ones? No…No…Warriors couldn’t let that happen. It hurt the captain deeply to see Wind’s tiny smile in this moment. Couldn’t the kid see how much he was worth to his sister, to his friends and brothers?

Or did Warriors fail?

“Wars…”

Warriors flinched and looked at the kid. “Yeah?”

“I-I don’t wanna die.” Wind admitted, his voice growing more agitated.

“Hey, bud, you won’t. I-I’ll make sure you stay alive.” Warriors tried to reassure, his heart shattering into pieces for the poor sailor.

Wind didn’t say anything and just weakly held on to the captain’s scarf. A small sob turned into painful bawling and Warriors didn’t know what to do. Could he move with Wind to find the chain? Warriors didn’t know where the group had gone off to so it might take too long. But then again if Warriors didn’t find help soon the sailor would be gone. After hearing another sickly cough, the captain made a decision. “Sailor, I have a plan, okay? We’re going to try and find help and get you all fixed up.” Warriors informed him.

“M’kay.”

The captain slowly sat up while gently holding the kid in his arms. The droplets of rain that were falling from the sky soaked the kid’s hair and tinier droplets slid unto Wind’s face. At this point Warriors couldn’t differentiate between tears and the rain. But he had no more time to dawdle so he started walking, but it felt too slow. He glanced back down upon the sailor and then his expression twisted into anguish. The kid looked to be in so much pain. “Wars…I don’t…I don’t think I’ll…I don’t think I’ll make it.” Wind whimpered.

“Wind…”

“M’sorry.”

The captain’s eyes flashed with despair. “No…I’ll-I’ll find help and you’ll make it.”

“How?”

Warriors choked again like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. How could reassure the kid when he didn’t know that himself? “Captain…”

Warriors swallowed back the feeling of his heart being torn from his chest and bile rising up his now dry throat. He was supposed to be the captain, the commander, the leader even…he was supposed to protect the kid from the unfair reality of being a hero, but here he was feeling like an idiot. Wind made a sad noise and something inside of the captain broke. Slow steps turned into the fastest sprinting as Warriors heart pounded out of his chest. “Hang in there Tune.”

Wind didn’t give a response but Warriors had managed to ignore that.

His legs ached as he had to slow down. He panted heavily and all but collapsed on the ground. How long had he been running through this goddess-forsaken forest, was a question he couldn’t answer. Warriors looked tiredly at the sailor that was bundled in his arms and let out a gasp. “Wind, Wind, open your eyes. Please.”

The kid looked lifeless as he hung limply in the captain’s grasp. “Wind, don’t do this to me. This isn’t funny.” Warriors said, trembling as he searched for a pulse.

But there was none. “Damn it Wind!” Warriors yelled and let go of the body as his shoulders shook.

H e

H a d

F A I L E D

A raw scream rang throughout the air. The sky thundered harshly as Warriors weeped uncontrollably. His vision was beginning to blur as thick tears gushed out of his eyes and sad noises escaped his throat. Why, why did it have to be Wind? The bright expressive sailor whom everyone had a soft spot for. “Please, sailor, Link, wake up. Tell me this is all just a prank of yours.” Warriors begged, shaking the corpse desperately.

In his mind he knew that the kid was dead but his heart wouldn’t listen. “Link don’t….don’t do this to me!” Warriors shouted.

He heard some light footsteps behind him and jerked around, his hand immediately touching the hilt of his sword. His eyes darted around to see a horde on enemies charging through. His eyes widened and making a quick decision, he fled with the corpse in his bloody arms. “C’mon sailor…we’re…we’re going to make it okay?”

He knew he was talking to a dead kid but he couldn’t stop the words of reassurance flying out of his mouth. He narrowly dodged a bash on the head as he continued to rush across the forest. He pushed away branches and the rain and his tears were making it hard to see properly. The captain could hear the footsteps growing closer and closer and began to panic. His legs were still exhausted and he couldn’t run forever. “Damn it…” He muttered.

A Moblin appeared and tossed its club around menacingly. Warriors could feel red creeping into his vision once more, as he was reminded of why Wind was now….

He leapt at the monster, sword raised, and the air carried him but he just flew past the Moblin and something snagged his tunic. He let out a cry as he fell to the ground. The Moblin seemed to be…laughing at him…Further fueled, the captain rushed back to the enemy and managed to impale the beast, black blood now dripping all over his sword. The Moblin cried out and its red eyes fixated on Warriors. It ran at Warriors and managed to land continuous blows on him. Eventually the captain shoved the Moblin off of him and impaled him again. The Moblin dropped dead. Warriors spat blood out of his mouth and picked up the sailor again. “It’d be a lot more easy if you’d just wake up.” He murmured.

He could just imagine the sailor responding with something like, “Too bad.”

Warriors almost waited for Wind’s lip to begin to move and start talking. But he reminded himself that there were more monsters coming for him and he sighed and started running again. But he didn’t last very long. Too soon, he was out of breath and blood was rushing out of his nose and his mouth. “W…What?” He said.

Suddenly his legs gave out and he started seeing dancing black dots. What was going on? It was just a club that the Moblin was holding earlier…or was it?

O r w a s i t?

“CAPTAIN!”

______________________________________________________

“What—we— ”

A groan escaped Warriors as he slowly opened his eyes. When he managed to do that he was met with only light. “Wind’s—he’ll—okay?”

What…?

Wind…Wind…

Warriors gasped and tried to sit up, his arms shaking like they were just barely holding up his weight. “War—Wa—s?”

Who was talking? What were they saying? Warriors blinked confusedly and tried to comprehend everything. What was the last thing he remembered? The Moblin….the rain….the blood….Wind….

He managed to grasp the arm of somebody. “W-Where’s the…the kid?”

“He’s—okay—don’t worry.”

But how was that possible? He had seen the sailor’s chest still and he had seen the sailor’s blood all over him and the ground. “H…How?” Warriors asked.

There were a few moments of silence. “That’s—for—different—”

Warriors furrowed his eyebrows wondering why his ears weren’t picking up everything properly. “———————Rest.”

He obliged and his head lolled back on the surface he was on. His eyes fluttered closed and he took a steady breath as sleep enveloped him.

______________________________________________________

Each time he woke up was a blur. The captain remembered swallowing something, fuzzy voices, and his heart pounding against his chest. While he was unconscious nightmares of Wind dying haunted him. When he had recovered enough he was able to understand what was going on around him. “Has Wind woken up yet?” Twilight murmured.

Warriors shot up and looked at the rancher with confusion. ��Well Warriors certainly has.” Time chuckled.

“W-wind?” Warriors said.

Time sighed. Warriors started fearing the worst, had they not managed to save him? Were they lying or had he been dreaming when they said the sailor was okay? “He’s just resting right now, and….getting better.” Time said choosing his words very carefully.

“WIND GET BACK HERE!” Someone yelled.

Suddenly the kid came around the corner and into the room, his mouth slightly open and his eyes wide. Wind was in a different tunic that Warriors didn’t quite recognize but there were a few bandages there too. “WARS!” Wind cried out and sprinted towards the captain.

The air was knocked out of his lungs as he was hugged fiercely by the sailor. Warriors took one long look at the kid and started sobbing uncontrollably. Time opened his mouth to protest but Twilight stopped him. Warriors cradled Wind and began mumbling apologies. “What the fuck are you apologizing for?” Wind demanded.

“Language.” Twilight called.

“I-I couldn’t save…I couldn’t save you…I saw you die…a-and…” Warriors broke off.

Wind gave a wet laugh. “You did everything you could. That’s all that matters to me.”

Warriors gave a heartwarming smile as he held the sailor closer, beyond grateful that he was with him. “You scared me.” He accused in a teasing tone.

“No you scared me!” Wind huffed.

“You both scared each other and all the rest of us.” Time said.

There were footsteps pounding outside the door and suddenly the whole chain was there, crashing into the ground. “Get off of me!” Legend yelped.

Once everyone recollected themselves they looked at both Wind and Warriors and gasped happily. “You’re awake!” Sky grinned.

Soon the sailor and the captain were tackled with hugs. Time and Twilight eventually joined in the group hug. Warriors glanced at the kid who was giggling and purposely making the veteran slightly mad at him. Soon everything would be back to normal…

Or so he thought….

#unique writes #oof #*scurries away to do more wips*#tw blood #tw temporary character death #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu wind #lu warriors #lu time #lu twilight #others are there but not too too relevant #my writing #linked universe fanfic

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trippygalaxy · 1 year

Text

Nicknames for you! Pt 2

Includes: Twilight, Legend and Wild

Pt 1 - Pt 3

Twilight

Darling/Darl

He actually picked this nickname up from his home village. He often heard both young, and old couples call each other the endearment while growing up. Due to this, the name quickly becomes the most used (and loved) pet name he calls you. It comes so easy to him that the first time he let the name slip it went undetected by him but not so much from you.

Safe to stay he was very confused to why you where so red when he just asked you to hand him a spoon.

Buttercup

He started calling you it as a joke. While out shopping for supplies, you both took a little detour to a small hat shop! Taking a look around you notice a very well made cowboy hat (one that looked perfectly Twilight shaped). When you placed the hat on the young hero you could feel the sigh that left him, looking so so disappointed.

So there you stood, desperately trying to hold in your laughter as to not make a scene in the small store. Oh, but Twilight had other plans. Slinging an arm around your shoulder, he pulls you closer than before and in the most southern accent he could muster, he strung together the most incoherent sentence known to Hyila. All the while calling you every stereotypical southern nickname (Buttercup being the most repeat), as you continue to struggle to not laugh. After that, the name stuck.

Charming

Twilight can’t deny that you’ve swept him off his feet the moment you’ve met. Not only were you a sight to behold but you truly intrigued him. Every time he learnt something new about you, it sent him farer down the rabbit hole. You confused him but had him understanding you at the same time, every part of you had him wanting to know more. And he knows he wasn’t the only one! You’ve used you’re unique charm in the past for The Chain’s befit, convincing shopkeepers for discounts by offering your name, persuading patrons for inform with nothing more than a childhood story, and so much more. You really do deserve the name, Charming.

Legend

Trinket

Being the group hoarder, he always has a varying array of items on him at all times. His items and trinkets are very precious to him, like you. He is fiercely protective of his trinkets and hate it people try and steal them, like you.

He loves to call you his Trinket, it makes him feel proud that he’s able to call you his. But he isn’t crazy possessive, cause while yes you are his and he is yours, you aren’t an item to own and will stop calling you such if you have expressed discomfort with the name.

Your Majesty

A teasing nickname that he whole heartly agrees with. At first he started using it when you first join The Chain in their adventure. Seeing as you weren’t as use to the extreme amount of travel and long periods of time without a proper bed as the other, Legend took it upon himself to poke and tease you for it.

Now, as you two had gotten together he still uses the name but not entirely in the same way (he’s still gonna make fun of ya but now it’s out of love.) After getting to know you better he couldn’t think of a more fitting name, your beauty and mind are so complex and inspiring that he wouldn’t be surprised if he found your portrait being hung in the halls of Hyrule Castel.

Lover

Simple and meaningful. It get the point across to all parties involved and can be used by the both of you! Though most of the time, Legend likes calling you his lover when alone together. He doesn’t know why but when it’s used while the two of you lay in bed, slowly drifting to sleep, it feels like the most intimate thing to him. (well--)

Wild

Petal

You’re so soft compared to him, in most -if not all- meanings of the word. You remind him of the beauty of his Hyrule, not the destroyed ruins or fallen kingdoms but the nature that persisted even when the world ended. But even he knows that the prettiest of flowers can be more dangerous than any blade, and that's what he likes about you. You’re the perfect gift for anyone who admires you but you will use it against them if they dare underestimate.

Sunshine

You bring so much light and warmth to his life, he can’t help but be convinced that you hold a part of the sun in your soul. The way you’re smile can fill him with such joy and pride, it’s almost criminal! You’re skin always seems to glow even when it’s caked is mud and dirt. Oh but your eyes, now your eyes must be magical. How else can they hold such brightness, he honesty wonders if you’re eyes give off actual light!

Hot Stuff

While under the *ahem* “tutelage” of the Gerudo, he learn quite a few -uhh- names to call a possible lover to gain their attention. Did Wild compelety agree with the statement, no, BUT it did turn out to be very funny and quickly got you to laugh.

Though he does use it in a joking manner, he still believes you’re hotter than Death Mountain. And he is not ashamed to admit that to you or ANYONE within range. He is all for hyping you up when you’re trying new clothes or are just not feeling it that day. You mean the world to him and hates seeing you feel down about yourself.

(Again, apologize for any typos or miss spellings! I’ll try to fix any as I re-read this)

#linked universe #linked universe headcanons #lu #linked universe x reader #linked universe twilight #lu twilight #linked universe legend #lu legend #linked universe wild #lu wild #x reader #reader insert #tales out of orbit

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credince--writes · 1 year

Text

Deep In Those Woods (3)

Keegan P. Russ x Fem!Reader

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

AO3

You find a strange man in the woods, no doubt running from the federation. He seems, well, in simple terms beat to shit. May your act of kindness not go unpunished.

He was silent, glancing around the cabin as if he hadn’t really looked at it before. “You took me in?”

“Y… Yea?” You questioned, wondering if it was the wrong thing to say. “You were hurt…”

He pushed off of the counter, turning but not allowing himself to have his back fully to you, before kind of meandering a few steps forward and staring out the window.

Your hand clenched around the countertop, at a loss for words before you spoke again.

“Are you hungry?”

His presence still loomed over you, even a few steps back as he glanced out of the window to stare at his clothes floating on the line outside.

You nearly choked on your words as you spoke, watching as his head snapped back over to you at the question. A flicker of confusion danced in his eyes as if in as much disbelief as you were that you'd ask him something like that after he held his hand to your throat.

He could kill you.

Your grip tightened on the countertop, holding it like an anchor- your grip on the wood was your lifeline in this situation.

It was like being stared down by a predator, the feeling of running screaming a bad idea because he'd follow- and probably win regardless of his injuries.

"You're injured." You spoke again, trying to clarify the confusion. "You haven't eaten much... I-" You stopped yourself, mentally kicking yourself as he hesitantly moved to the living room and eyeballed the pile of blankets he'd been sleeping in the past few nights.

He stayed silent.

"You're bleeding." You spoke again, staring at the small trickle of blood from an open scratch against his upper arm.

His head tilted as he glanced at the wound, cold blue eyes glancing back up to you in dismissal.

You took a step forward towards him, hand finally leaving the death grip it held on the countertop. You cautiously moved, grabbing hold of a cloth to wipe the blood from his arm and wound glue from the first aid kit scattered about from the first initial attempts of playing doctor.

His eyes followed your every movement and step, body tensing as you got closer.

Your hand reached out, fingers splayed out in an attempt to grab his arm. Your fingertips brushed against his warm skin and he flinched backward- as if the feeling of your touch on his skin burned.

"I'm not going to hurt you." You urged, hand reaching out again, this time without him flinching away as you blotted the trickle of blood away and sealed the wound with the glue.

Keegan stared, the searing pain in his injured leg screaming for him to let up- to sit, to rest. The feeling of your soft fingertips brushing against his arm instinctively made him pull back.

The idea of soft touches was unfamiliar to him-

he couldn't remember the last time that he felt something like that.

Even the medics back at the occasional base camp were limited on their gentleness, and intentional movements to get the bleeding to stop and to move on to the next injured soldier. No time to dwell on the comfort of the bleeding body in front of them unless they were truly dying.

Even then, supplies were limited.

“You’re hurt, but you’ll be ok. Don’t be scared, you’re safe.”

He nearly leaned into the touch of your soft fingers against his skin, bearing the sharp sting of the glue mending his flesh together if it meant you'd keep a hand on his arm.

His head was swimming, as if everything he processed was underwater. The light outside felt too bright, the sound of the door closing when you'd first entered too loud.

When he woke, in a strange home on the floor covered in blankets near a fire he sat in disbelief for a moment. Racking his brain trying to remember where he was- who he was with and why he hurt so bad.

The pain was a given- the ache of his bones and the creaking of his joints in his movements. But someone had patched him up- albeit poorly, it had still been done. He reached his hand up to rub against the glue holding the slit on his arm together, the glue failing as he picked at it and the cut popping open, a new trickle of blood running down his arm.

He blinked, feeling his eyes shut and open even being a strain to his already depleted energy.

He needed to get out, for all he knew this was hostile territory.

A trap.

But it seemed like he was alone, so he investigated as much as he could with the pounding in his head. Not finding much of substance, searching the walls for clues, only finding pictures of a family in differing scenarios scattered against the walls in old frames.

Keegan always needed to be on it- understand what was happening in the situation and to know when and where and how. He didn't know any of those things and it made his skin crawl, amplifying the pounding in his head as he searched for answers trying to avoid glancing at the sunshine in the windows.

The door closed.

Boots on the floor, light, and rustling of cloth.

“I’m back Keegan… Got eggs in tow as well.”

The soft voice he'd heard in his dreams.

“You have a fever.” She spoke again. “But it’s ok.”

Ok.

It’s ok.

He’s safe.

Keegan's mind chanted to him, his body automatically moving towards the sound, bare feet striding across the room in practiced silence. Deadly stealth perfected over the years, coming as second nature even in his injured state.

He was not safe.

He was in danger.

And the enemy was nearby.

He stood and stared, watching as you set the eggs down. As you turned to go prepare something and reached up into the cupboard to pull a glass down. He struck then, lunging forward and hands wrapping around your body. One around your waist and one around your neck, hand engulfing your throat as the mason jar shattered on impact onto the cabin floor.

You let out a surprised yelp mixed with a scratch, trying to turn to see who your assailant was, eyes narrowing down to the familiar rough hand of Keegan gripping onto your clothes and squeezing your throat.

His body screamed begging for his attention to the pain he felt, but the feeling of adrenaline welling up shooed the throbbing of the pain away from his mind as his chest heaved.

"Hey."

"Keegan, hey-"

"Let's sit you down alright?"

His body felt like lead as he leaned into you, head falling over your shoulder as his body began to give out, pushing forward.

You were screwing the cap onto the wound glue when he started teetering, his injured leg giving out and him nearly dead weighting directly on top of you as your arms reached up to help shimmy him back nearby the fire and back down onto his blankets.

He was dangerous and unpredictable.

And vulnerable.

He could've killed you and you wouldn't have known what hit you.

And here he lay, nearly unconscious once again as his eyes hazed over with the confusion and pain you'd been familiar with whenever his cold steel blue eyes opened.

But when his hand wrapped around you, you saw something entirely different.

The eyes of a predator.

The eyes of a ghost.

You sighed, moving him so he could sit up with his back resting against the couch. Scurrying off to make something for the two of you to eat while he was still semi-conscious.

You could kill him like this, and you wouldn't have to worry.

You didn't need another mouth to feed.

But you didn't want to be alone again.

But he was dangerous.

You paused, hand wrapping around the knife you were using. You could walk up behind him and slit his throat and he wouldn't be able to fight back, not like this.

The sound of Keegan groaning, his arm pushing himself up and shielding his eyes from the sunlight in the windows broke the trail of thought.

You weren't a killer.

You cooked and carried the food over to him and sat down, easing in next to his less-injured arm and setting your bowl of food down, and holding his in your lap.

"It's soup, again." You mused, trying to ease his nerves as he tensed at your presence. "I think you have a pretty bad concussion... I... Hold on." You set the bowl down and stood, walking over to the windows and pulling the curtains closed, and casting a shadow throughout the room.

"Sorry, I forgot you wouldn't like the light." You apologized, moving up to the silent man once again, kneeling this time next to him and lifting the bowl. Picking up the spoon and lifting the food to his lips.

Keegan stared, not knowing how to respond if not to scoff and slap the spoon away at the fact that you thought he was too weak to feed himself.

He'd argue, he really would.

But his arms were too weak to lift and smack the spoon.

So, he sat and ate the food you brought to his lips. Trying to not let embarrassment burn on his cheeks while thinking this tasted much, much better than MRE's.

#Call of Duty #Keegan P Russ x reader #Keegan Russ x Reader #Call of Duty Ghosts #Deep In Those Woods

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baskervilleshound · 7 months

Text

You're Not Stupid - A Fionna and Cake Fanfiction

((FIONNA AND CAKE SPOILERS MY DUDES. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!

This is written to be completely platonic/familial, and if you think otherwise, I'm gonna have to take your kneecaps, okay?

Anyways. This is how I wish that one scene went in episode 8. You know. The one with Fionna crying in the most heartbreaking way ever. Please enjoy pain, tears, and Simon being very soft. I told y'all I have no self control. Let me know if you enjoyed it, and maybe I'll write more ;D

Enjoy!))

“BMO was wrong!”

“And so was Fionna! We blew it, we blew it!!”

The sound of Cake’s furious yowling as the cat smashed bits of the dilapidated lab equipment echoed in Fionna’s head. This was her own fault. Everything, as always, was her fault.

Her friends at home knew her as flighty. And now, all the people in this terrible, abandoned lab, knew her as a failure, too. She was no adventurer, no knight in shining armor, and hell, not even a good friend. On top of all of that, she was a liar, too.

No one knew that Fionna had the crown in her backpack. She didn’t dare tell Cake, and especially, not Simon. In the days that she had traveled with the gentleman, Fionna had quickly learned that Simon was willing to do anything in his power to keep both her, and Cake safe- even if it meant putting on some cursed object that would render his brain jelly in a matter of minutes, perhaps.

She didn’t want to see Simon deteriorate, and act as he was in those miserable tapes. Delusional. Insane. Depraved. No, she couldn’t do that to him. She couldn’t. She couldn’t tell him about the crown…!

“My office supplies!” BMO’s high little voice rang out as Cake proceeded to push every object on the desk onto the floor.

Fionna’s cheeks flushed red, and tears stung her eyes as the situation escalated. A lump formed in her throat, and before she knew it, she was running out the doorway and onto a balcony as guilt sunk its teeth into her like a viper.

She hadn’t even noticed that Simon’s head had whipped to look in her direction, and that he had immediately noticed that something was wrong.

Once she was in the open air, she let out a couple of heartbroken sobs as bubbly tears dripped down her burning cheeks. She could barely see the dead and abysmal landscape as the tears kept flowing.

However, she wasn’t alone out there for long.

“Fionna, it’s okay,” came Simon’s calm but concerned voice from behind her.

Immediately, Fionna shrank down onto the ground, turning away from him in shame as she pulled her knees up to her chest.

“Simon, I’m so stupid! I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “Why did I think I could do this?!”

Why was she so stupid? Why did she always mess everything up? And on top of that, why was she still lying to Simon and Cake about having the crown?

Her shoulders shook as she buried her face in her hands, her breath coming in short gasps and hiccups.

She felt an arm wrap around her, and then another.

“You’re not stupid,” Simon murmured.

Fionna froze for a moment. She didn’t feel like she deserved the kindness that she was being given, but truly, she couldn’t help but give in to it. Regardless of being an adult and feeling like she needed to be grown and handle everything on her own, she still needed support. She still needed someone to make her feel like everything was going to be okay. She needed Simon.

She needed him never to put that horrible crown on his head. He didn’t deserve it.

Fionna melted into him, and threw her own arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. The lingering smell of coffee on his clothing was comforting, and reminded her all too much of home. She was at a loss for words as all her worries and concerns tumbled out of her in a torrent of tears, which collected on Simon’s suit jacket.

“It’s going to be okay, Fionna. We’re going to figure something out,” the man spoke softly to her as he gently rubbed her back. “It’s okay.”

But would it be okay? Would it really?

After some time, Fionna managed to collect her emotions, and tuck them all back inside of her where they belonged. When she pulled back from Simon, the man wiped away her tears with his thumbs.

“T-thanks for that, Simon,” Fionna hiccupped. “Sorry, I probably got snot all over your jacket.”

Simon shook his head and smirked.

“Oh, I could have worse things on this jacket,” he chuckled.

Simon smiled at her and tilted his head as he cozied himself up against the wall of the balcony.

“Are you feeling any better?” he asked.

Fionna nodded and wiped her nose on her sleeve, sniffling.

“Y-yeah. You know, Simon, I get why that vampire girl turned out so bad in that one dimension. You’d…you were a really good dad. I can tell.”

The tender look in Simon’s eyes said more than words ever could convey the moment those words left the girl’s mouth.

“Thank you, Fionna,” he said, clearing his throat. “I appreciate that.”

#simon petrikov #fionna and cake spoilers #fionna and cake #ice king #fionna campbell #fionna the human #cake the cat #fionna and cake fanfiction #simon petrikov fanart #emotional whump #platonic #found family #fanfiction #adventure time #adventure time fanfiction #the ice king #fionna & cake

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hanlimz · 1 year

Note

JUNGWONSPIDERMANAU

cass. pls dont say that and just. LEAVE. expand. i would like to hear your thoughts 🎤

bc truly spider-man/peter parker was my first love and personally i have had the idea for a jake as spider-man au for quiet a bit now but it has never really taken off but now i NEED to hear all your thoughts.

(also if u have any good spider-man au fic recs pls send them my way thnx 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩)

PLSSS I COULD TALK FOREVER!!!! BUT OKAY—here are some bullet points plus a small blurb/summary/idk? i literally am going to write so much im so SORRY??? (this has convinced me n i will be writing a fic LMAOO)

(+ two vvvv good spiderman fic recs!!)

it’s safe here (with me) by @enhypenandpaper !! | very cute story, well-written, i love when writers can put their own unique spin on scenes that inspire them it’s rly motivating and wonderful (i need to rb this on my fic rec blog asap) (jake x reader)

i’ll save you (again) by @jayflrt !! | amazing stupendous wonderful show-stopping ,, literally one of my Favorite reads on this app .. this author manages to encapsulate both spiderman And jake sosososo well .. they also make it a point to rly flesh out the other friendships mentioned and I Love That (jake x reader)

general hcs (?):

won is the dorkiest spiderman ever .. stutters over his quips, never has anything cool to say to the villains he fights, doesn’t know how to respond to ppl thanking him

one time someone he saved tried to ask for his number and he panicked and said he was banned from both t-mobile and verizon (he’s not btw)??

another time he just got done saving a group of ppl n said “no thneeds necessary” ?? bc he was trying to say “no need to thank me” n “no thanks necessary” at the same time

but he’s also the sweetest .. any time someone asks to “repay him” he’s a double it n give it to the next person kinda guy .. he always tells them to stop by the soup kitchen or donate old clothes to thrift stores or just be kind to someone else

also ,, on another note ,, won has the Biggest crush on u and knows u like to help out at the local preschool, so he always tells ppl to buy and donate extra school supplies

sometimes when he’s out patrolling late at night, he’ll see u on ur way home from the library n quietly follow u to make sure u get home safe

tries to talk to u once after seeing a spiderman article open on ur computer and u indulge him for a moment, saying how bad u felt abt the daily bugle’s tabloid pieces .. won’s p sure his heart exploded

but overall, he’s very gentle and kind .. ever the king of duality tho .. he can beat a bitch up when need be, but most of the time—won’s just a high school senior trying to get into MIT and make the person he’s been in love with since the beginning of fall semester feel the same way abt him

ANYWAYS in a high school!au setting i see a lot of ppl like to hc jungwon as class/stuco president, but i think he’s definitely more on the quiet side .. he’s popular, yes, but not too popular if that makes sense. for him, though, this is perfect ... he flies under the radar, and him missing school a couple days in a row every month or so goes virtually unnoticed. HOWEVER, you’ve always had a sneaking suspicion .. it’s not like you and won are Rivals—there would be no merit in picking an unnecessary fight with the boy who volunteers at the soup kitchen on the weekends and feeds the stray cats near the gym and asks the lunch ladies how their days are going—but, there’s something strange going on. you’re sure of it.

jungwon comes into school one day w a busted lip and a black eye. everyone is fawning over him, asking him what happened—did he get mugged, did his face hurt, did he give the other person a run for their money? you don’t bother checking in on him when he takes his seat next to you. you just hand him his calculus test (he did better than you again n it’s infuriating) and clench your jaw, willing yourself to disappear. that familiar, green monster hangs in the shadows behind you, and its breath fans across your neck as it attempts to coax a physical manifestation of jealously from your lips. eventually, you excuse yourself to the nurse’s office and skip the rest of the day.

later that night, you’re trying to study in your room, but you keep getting distracted by the daily bugle’s twitter updates. spiderman is out and about again, and they won’t let the poor guy’s good reputation rest. it’s all “spiderman fights villain and knocks over streetlight onto local man’s car” and “spiderman forgoes saving lady’s churro to destroy half of grand central station”—and, honestly, you feel a bit bad. he’s trying his best. but, as rain patters against your window, the sound threatens to lull you to sleep. exhaustion overtakes your body, your eyes are drooping, and your head keeps falling from your hands. and then BOOM—the loudest noise you’ve ever heard startles you from your fatigue-induced trance. with a look of fear in your eyes, you glance over your shoulder to look at the window and the sight that greets you is enough to freeze every molecule in your body.

the aforementioned hero is clinging to the side of your building, banging his fist on the glass and practically begging to be let in. his movements are frantic and a bit scary. you open the window as quick as you can and let him slide through the small gap you’ve created. there are copious tears in his suit, blood flows from a nasty gash on his shoulder. rushing around on some crude form of auto pilot, you grab a clean shirt from your closet and press it into his wound. you tell him to hold it there and instruct him to sit in your desk chair. he's sopping wet from head to toe, and all you manage to think about is how glad you are that your parents are away for the weekend.

eventually, after only almost vomiting once, the cut is clean and bandaged up. "you're so lucky that i've been trying to get rid of this shirt forever, mr. spiderman," you scoff as he perches on the sill of your window, preparing to swing away into the night. "if i had grabbed one of my favorite outfits, i would've killed you before that wound could have."

a giggle escapes from his lips, and for a moment, you find yourself taken aback. he sounds like a high schooler—young, lively, and everything but the twenty-something year old man you thought he would be. "sorry about that ... i'll have to swing by and drop off some laundry detergent one of these days," he laughs. his voice sounds so familiar, but your mind is still reeling from your recent discovery. the hero offers you a wave and gestures toward his previous seat. "sleep well—and, good luck on that calculus homework."

the next day at school, jungwon is nowhere to be seen. you thank whatever happens to reside in the sky that he can't see the bright red 67 at the top of your most recent calculus test. the next next day, however, jungwon comes in with his arm in a sling. as his seatmate, you're the one that has to help him out for the rest of the week. but, when you're sitting in free period, you happen to take another glance at the bandages around his shoulder as jungwon naps next to you. a sharp column of ice pierces through your lower abdomen; under jungwon's sling, the lowest layer of bandages are covered with dried blood and sweat.

they look eerily familiar. almost like the ones you used to patch spiderman up over the weekend.

but, jungwon couldn't be spiderman. he couldn't be—he's too sweet, too gentle, too kind. peeking over at his backpack, you note that it seems a bit bulkier today; a recognizable purple cap winks at you from the unzipped main pocket. a chill tickles the length of your spine as you register what happened to be resting against his class notebooks.

laundry detergent?

you pause for a moment.

oh.

oh god.

#ੈ.faves #ੈ.nyx 🌌#enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen headcanons #enhypen reactions #jungwon fluff #jungwon x reader #enha fluff #enha reactions #enha headcanons #enha imagines #jungwon reactions #jungwon headcanons #jungwon imagines #LMAOOO i did too much honestly #the whole blurb is so messy im so SORRY #but when i have more time (prob my spring break ㅠㅠ) ill Definitely be fleshing this out n writing a full fledged spiderwon fic

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hereticpriest · 1 month

Text

Chew

Rating: Mature?

Relationship: Laszlo Kreizler x reader

This is a bit of a prequel to Bite, expanding upon the beginnings of their relationship. Soon to be followed by another prequel about their wedding night.

Warnings: Heavily implied odaxelagnia, letters of an intimate nature, flirting in the 1890s, period typical misogyny, period typical relationship culture.

Note: Szerelmem means 'my love' in Hungarian.

When you had first started your job as typist at the Kreizler Institute, you thought that you would have a small cubby tucked away somewhere in the bowels of the Institute. Somewhere where the good people who ran the Institute could forget that you existed until they had need of you, like any woman who dared have a job in these tumultuous times. Your interview with Dr. Kreizler had been perfunctory, but he had paid attention to you as you spoke, and he only interrupted you once, to stop a somewhat self-deprecating verbal spiral. He gave you a short test regarding your typing skills and ability to take dictation, reading over your results with a double-edged comment about your remarkable grasp of the spelling of complex medical terminology.

When you had arrived for your first day, you were surprised to find yourself led up to Dr. Kreizler's office, where a desk had been placed with a typewriter and appropriate supplies. The chair was comfortable, but you felt a little bit nervous under the heavy scrutiny of your boss. Thankfully, he was fair, and genuinely kind most of the time. He was wonderful with the children, and you truly admired the easy manner in which he spoke to them. He had a habit of prying, as if he needed to understand the way your mind worked, and you remember distinctly the moment you told him he couldn’t ever be capable of fully understanding your mind seeing as he was a man, and you were a woman. You had experiences he could never properly relate to.

That had certainly sparked one hell of a debate, but he hadn't been upset with you. Instead, he seemed to want to prove you wrong by way of dissecting your brain while you were meant to be working. He asked you questions endlessly, sometimes completely out of nowhere, and often those of a personal nature. However, you found yourself happy enough to speak to him, exposing your tenuous relationship with your parents, who were upset that you chose to have a job despite their intense desire for you to marry as soon as possible. He noticed your compulsion to chew the skin around your nails and asked you questions about it as if you were his patient rather than his typist. The following morning, you came into work to find a brand new pair of gorgeous gloves on your desk, and Dr. Kreizler suspiciously quiet.

Shortly after, you met the first of his friends, John Moore. He was very kind to you, with a certain sensitivity you weren’t used to seeing in high society men, though he always treated you as if you were very delicate. Next, came Sara Howard, a woman who impressed you very much as she was the first woman to ever work for the Police outside of cleaning staff. You both spent many a time together commiserating over the trials of working for men, though you felt a bit bad since you had much less to complain about than she did. Dr. Kreizler was very kind to you, if blunt and manipulative. He’d never made you feel uncomfortable in the way that men often made women feel uncomfortable, and he was respectful of your personal space. You often stayed at the Institute as late as he did, and he would always offer you his arm to walk you to his carriage, giving you a ride home safely, and walking you to the door despite you insisting it wasn’t necessary.

He was, however, prone to staring. It wasn’t like you thought he was staring at you - you were sure he was just lost in thought and not really seeing what he was looking at - but you could feel his eyes burning into you regardless and it had taken some time to get used to it. He was also prone to prying in ways that were considered socially inappropriate. He asked you about your fears, your dreams, your desires, and your relationship with your parents. He probed when you told him that your parents wanted you to marry instead of working for him. He asked about your prior suitors, or at least attempted suitors, and how you felt about them. Every time you helped with a case, be it criminal or simply a patient, he would demand your opinion and make you defend it.

The fact that he did it to everyone made it easier to handle - he didn’t think you were stupid and feel as if he needed to decipher your nonsensical thinking. On the contrary, he valued your opinion and thus wanted to hear it, and discuss it. He just wasn’t very good at the discussion part, and made it feel more like defending one’s scientific papers. Mr. Moore tended to get offended on your behalf when Dr. Kreizler did it in front of him, but you always took it in stride, and when you were done with the conversation or had run out of points, you simply had to admit it in order for the good doctor to leave you alone. He wasn’t trying to be a pest, he just liked a good argument to get his brain whirring. He liked dissecting every point to find the truth of a matter, and was very much open to considering the opinions of others, which was a rarity. He just made it seem like a fight when it was really his burning curiosity.

The brothers Isaacson entered Dr. Kreizler’s group last, and together they began to work on the case of the murders of young boy prostitutes. Mr. Moore protested your involvement like he did Sara’s, but you were a bit more gentle in telling him that you had a very strong stomach. You were, in fact, fascinated by the whole ordeal, which was a morbid fact you tried to keep to yourself lest you seem rather strange. You didn’t do any investigating yourself - you were simply there to take notes, and make copies of the files that Sara borrowed from the Police department. However, Dr. Kreizler brought you everywhere with him when he was investigating, offering you his arm and keeping himself between you and any other men to avoid you becoming uncomfortable. He was careful with you, and you appreciated that he took you into consideration when he brought you to less than appropriate places.

Note-taking for the investigators brought you to becoming somewhat comfortable in Dr. Kreizler’s home, as you all often met there, and Dr. Kreizler had a habit of thinking aloud when he was finished at a crime scene. He began asking you to come back with him to the house so that you could discuss the case, notes you had already taken, and what you were missing. Often, John Moore and Sara Howard would join you if they had the time, though you lied to your parents when you told them you were never actually alone with Dr. Kreizler. Countless times, you had curled up on the sofa across from him, talking until Cyrus or Stevie would have to remind you that you might want to leave before nightfall. The good doctor would come with you in the carriage even though he had no need to, and it always made you feel soft, even if he’d been rather annoying or mean that day.

It was only recently that things had begun to change.

Your parents were on a rampage - a backhanded reference to your wasted youth and beauty by one of their high society friends had sent them into a tizzy, and you found yourself the victim of near-constant badgering. They were insistent that you leave your job and let them find you a husband so you could raise your station and theirs. For a long portion of your employment, you’d been able to stave them off by promising that you did want to marry, you just wanted to experience the world a little bit first. Unsurprisingly, that had come to bite you in the ass. They had found a gentleman whose prospects were affected by his unfortunate stutter, and he was willing to overlook your want for employment. Your parents had given you a lecture the previous night, and made it very clear that you were going to marry this man when he asked. The ‘or else’ was implied, and had kept you up all night.

You stumble on the slight ridge where the door to Dr. Kreizler’s office closes, which he told you was used for privacy as it helped dampen sound. It’s the first time you’ve ever been careless enough to trip over it, and you find yourself caught in the stare of the good doctor, his honey-brown eyes scanning over you quickly as if looking for an explanation.

“Are you okay, Miss L/N?”

Something about the soft way he asks you causes a crack in your demeanour, and you nod, swiftly making your way to your desk.

“Of course, Doctor.”

A disbelieving hum answers you and you settle yourself at your desk, opening Dr. Kreizler’s journal to the marked page where you left off so you could resume your work. You lose yourself in it, the soft clicks of the typewriter lulling your mind enough that you don’t hear the doctor’s approach until his hand gently closes around your wrist, pulling your palm away from your mouth. He hisses air through his teeth as you stare, ashamed, at the mottled purple of your thenar eminence. You didn’t even realise you were doing it. You knew you had been biting last night after your lecture from your parents, however, you never thought you would unconsciously do it in the presence of Dr. Kreizler.

“Your biting habit worries me.” He states as he leans his hip against your desk so that he can look at you properly, “What troubles you?”

Another crack.

“Let me help you, Miss L/N.”

Spiderweb cracks spread across the glass separating you from your emotions. You have so little control of yourself left, so close to breaking. You close your eyes briefly, steadying yourself, then look up at your boss as calmly as you possibly can, “It is a childish matter, Doctor, I couldn’t possibly trouble you with it. Please excuse my behaviour.”

Dr. Kreizler sighs.

“Miss L/N, please tell me.” he asks a little more sincerely, and you shatter. Your bottom lip wobbles, and his fingers slip up from your wrist to wrap around your hand instead, an intimacy that makes both of your faces’ hot. His fingers slip through yours, and you stare at your hands instead of looking at him, nerves sparking at the intimacy.

“My parents want me to marry.”

“So you’ve said.”

“Yes, well, they’ve found a man willing to take me on despite my questionable desire for employment.” You inform him, looking from your linked fingers to his face and noticing a tightening in his jaw.

“Ah.” He acknowledges, taking a breath, and for the first time you notice the flowers sitting on his desk, and the letter attached to them. You don’t forget your troubles so much as grab the distraction with both hands.

“Oh, those are lovely. I apologise for overstepping my bounds, however, may I ask who they’re for?” You ask, “You even wrote a letter. That’s so lovely, Dr. Kreizler.”

The doctor’s cheeks go pink, and he glances at the flowers before looking back at you, “Have you accepted his courtship?”

Your face falls, and you frown as he outright ignores your query, which seems almost worse than if he were to tell you off for it. But, you shake your head, looking away from him as you pull your hand free of his. He holds on for a moment longer before letting you go.

“He has yet to formally ask me, and thus I haven’t yet been forced to decline as I intend to.”

The tension in Dr. Kreizler’s shoulders ease, and you wet your lower lip as he leaves you, walking over to his desk and picking up the flowers. His nervousness rubs off on you, and you stand, following behind him.

“The flowers are for you. I know it is wholly unprofessional for me to propose courtship at your place of employment, however I believe we’ve surpassed the simple bonds of employer and employee to something more akin to friendship, so I hope you will forgive me. I-I know that I may not be what you want in a man… I have… deficiencies that may make you hesitant, and I know that I am difficult.” he says as he touches his right arm, which you knew about only because he had needed assistance one evening while you were at his home without anyone who knew about it, ”But I would take care of you in all ways. You would want for little, and of course, you would be able to continue your employment and pursuits of knowledge. I would never deny you anything simply for the fact of your gender.”

You’ve never thought of Dr. Kreizler that way. In the interest of keeping a professional relationship on both sides, and treating him with the same careful respect as he treated you, you had put his being a man firmly in the back of your mind. He was a doctor. He was a brilliant mind. He was your boss. He was something of a friend. Last, and very much least, he was a man. As you stare at him in shock, you begin to put latent thoughts together that you’ve often pushed to the back of your mind. He is a handsome man, with sweet honey-brown eyes and lovely brown hair. His body is appealing, with broad shoulders and a strong chest. His intelligence is attractive - you’ve always known it in the back of your mind, but you’ve ignored how that might’ve made you feel, instead focusing on the outcomes of his intelligence. He is well-groomed, from his pristine facial hair to his fantastic outfits, which you know cost a pretty penny. He has always cared for you, and shown you some of the best sides of himself to balance the times when he is more difficult. His weaker hand ghosting across your back when he helps you from the carriage while his strong hand holds yours to steady you comes to mind when you think of how he cares for you. Your father has never shown that much care for your mother - your coachman helps your mother from the carriage while your father marches on ahead.

You realise with a start that Dr. Kreizler is everything you’ve ever said you wanted when you considered marriage. And as you examine the softness and the twinge of hope in his eyes, you realise that you do actually want this. You want him. Your cheeks grow hot as you realise that you truly, honestly, deeply do want him. And he just asked if you would let him court you.

A surprised ‘oh!’ escapes your lips in a rush of air, and you take the flowers from him, staring at them in shock.

“I… I would accept, should you propose courtship, Dr. Kreizler. I thank you for asking me rather than my parents, however, my family is old fashioned and you… well, you would need to ask my father as well.” You admit, and he seems surprised that you agreed, which hurts your heart.

“I had intended on pursuing this properly, once I knew your desires on the matter.”

“And now you do. Perhaps you should call on my father.”

“I will.” He assures you, and you stare into his eyes for a moment, holding your flowers to your chest like he might try to take them back.

“Good. I will await the good news.” You reply with a firm nod, and a smile creeps across your face like you’re trying to restrain it, mirrored on his own. You head over to your desk, and he moves quickly to pull your chair out for you, drawing a shy smile to your lips. You spend the rest of your day at work listening to the soft rumble of Dr. Kreizler’s voice and trying quite hard not to laugh when three separate patients, two of the other workers at the Institute, and John Moore remark on the man being in a particularly good mood today.

That evening, a knock comes at your door, and you wait with baited breath, hiding at the top of the stairs as Dr. Laszlo Kreizler asks your father for permission to court you. His proposal is professionally detached, running off of what you’ve told him about your parents, and emphasising that he would like to pursue marriage swiftly. Your father knows exactly who the good doctor is - he had done his research when you began working for him - and he is aware of exactly how wealthy the man is. His social status has suffered from his career choice and his strange views, but he’s still above the man they’d intended for you, and they knew you would be well-looked upon for getting the man to finally settle down. It would look good on him to marry a high class woman with good standing as well.

You stand up quickly as you hear your mother approaching the stairs, and she breathes a sigh of relief when she sees you, looking happy about you for the first time in a long while. She encourages you to come down, and as you approach her, she teases you gently about having a gentleman suitor and that perhaps she should have seen the wisdom of you working with a well-to-do man as if this had all been your plan. You’re happy enough to let her believe what she likes so long as she isn’t angry with you. You had changed after returning home from work, and now wore a dinner gown that was much prettier than much of the clothing Dr. Kreizler - Laszlo, as he’d asked you to start calling him - had ever seen you wear. He brightens at the sight of you, and you smile demurely, taking your father’s arm delicately.

“Dr. Kreizler has come to ask to court you, darling.” He says as he pats your hand on his arm fondly, as if he hadn’t been arguing with you a short few hours ago. You smile with a bit of faux surprise on your face, and you give your father’s arm an encouraging squeeze.

“Well, with your approval, Father, I will most heartily accept.” You reply, and you smile as Laszlo holds out a sealed letter to you, taking it from him and tucking it into one of your pockets. He kisses the back of your hand and bids you all farewell, promising to return in the next week or two to get to know your family better, and asking your parents if it would be acceptable to take you for a chaperoned walk this coming Saturday. You bite the inside of your cheek to hide your excitement, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you try to keep your cool in front of your parents.

You tear into your letter and drown yourself in his words, his proclamations of adoration and desire. He begins with a softer tone - how surprised he was when you came in for your interview, the way you provoked his mind, how impressed he was to find that you’d read not only his own work but the work of other alienists. How you coaxed him to open up piece by piece, in ways he hadn’t expected. How you’d encouraged him to see some of the little joys in life when you’d brought him to the rooftop gardens and told him what each of the flowers was. The way he loved to hear your opinions on cases, be they criminal or patients of the Institute, for you always surprised him with a new perspective.

Next, he professes little intimacies. You were wrong when you’d assumed he wasn’t staring at you and was simply lost in thought. He admits to getting lost in the soft curve of your smile, the delicate click of your fingers on the keys of the typewriter, and the way you sometimes hum while you’re working. He loves the way you grip his bicep in your hand when you walk together, and the gentle flex of your fingers when you get excited by something you see, or the clench of your hand when you get annoyed by something. That you trust him so deeply as he helps you from the carriage, barely looking where you’re going as he guides you, trusting him to keep you safe. How his heart races when your knees bump together in the carriage, or when you let him place his hand on your lower back to guide you through a crowd at Delmonico’s. How he dreams of the soft curve of your back, and what it might look like unbound.

By the end of the letter, your heart is racing just as he’d professed his own had raced, and you lay back on your bed after you’ve unburdened yourself of your day’s clothing with the help of your maid. Alone, you hide yourself under layers of blankets, your hand between your thighs as you read your doctor’s private words for you. You stroke your pleasure from sparks to a fire, eyelashes brushing against your cheekbones as you toss your head back into the pillows, a silent cry caught in your throat. Guilt burdens you afterwards in the cold dark of your bedroom, and you slip from your bed to sit at your desk in your nightdress, writing in a flurry to your doctor. Now, with the last remnants of your act of devotion cooling on your inner thighs, your writing is sinful. But your doctor does not believe in a God, nor the binds that society places on a man and a woman, and he will not shame you for your weakness. Perhaps he will even take himself in hand like you did, and devote himself to you in love and sin.

The idea of it burns you, and you bite your trembling lip as you write about what you’d done with his name upon your lips, hidden under metaphors that he will doubtless understand. By the time you’re done, you know this letter should be burnt. If you were a good, pious, proper woman you would walk down the stairs to the fire in the fireplace and burn the letter to avoid anyone seeing your shameful words. You seal it, then slip it into the pocket of your coat, crawling into bed and getting comfortable for the night. The following morning, your face is burning as you place the letter into Laszlo’s hand, and he gives you a discreet smile that only worsens the feeling until you settle at your desk to pretend you aren’t an unprofessional ball of embarrassment.

You hear a soft gasp, and your eyes meet Laszlo’s as he reads your letter, his cheeks burning. He coughs, adjusting in his seat, and folds the letter, presumably to read later. A wise choice. You giggle, and he smiles despite himself, turning his gaze back to his papers. You admire him for a moment longer to make up for all the time you’ve wasted not gazing at him, then turn back to your work, excited for the future. Hopefully, he won’t make you wait too long to be wed. It seems almost a waste to delay any longer.

You find yourself engaged no more than two months later.

#laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler

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writingsofestella · 9 months

Text

vespera - ch. 1

Apostate!Din Djarin x Ex!Jedi!OC -(no use of Y/N ) Canon Divergent - some plot changed for sake of story, the razor crest lives )

tws // general canon violence, usage of blasters and weapons, mentions of death, minors DNI 18+ only, angst, mature content, cursing, name calling, more tags to be added later on

a/n: thank you all so much for the love and support on the last chapter. it means the absolute world to me that you guys would read my silly little story. hope you guys enjoy this next chapter. it's setting up more of the plot this time.

wc: 2716

previous chapter: [here]

She was running. With quick weaves and bobbing, she was swerving through the marketplace. People were angrily yelling, but she paid them no mind as she pushed through. The more distance she put between herself and the bounty hunter after her, the better. Adrenaline filled her, as natural and seconded nature to her now as the Force that ran through her veins.

Another sharp turn, and she was darting down an abandoned alleyway, out of the crowd, out of the sharp sunlight. She could hear, feel the angry footsteps barreling after her, unrelenting and honed in on her.

With a quick glance, she was pushing herself up, climbing up the wall, feet digging into foot holes and hands grasping at barely there indents to pull herself up. Using the Force, she used it to push herself up faster, give her more strength than she felt she truly had.

A blaster shot fired right next to her ear.

It sent debris flying, hitting her in the arm she used to try and protect herself, as she slid down half the wall. Ringing exploded in her ear, feeling how her flesh burned in response to the close proximity. Digging in her nails, she dug in her footing, pushing herself up more frantically now, quicker.

She only got a few more feet up the wall before another blaster shot was firing toward her, this time trying to catch her. She narrowly avoided it, pulling herself up and over the wall, rolling away from the ledge.

"Stupid bitch!" The bounty hunter, a sleazy, worthless example of a man, shouted up at her. "When I get my hands on you, you're going to wish you were dead!"

She simply laid there, trying to catch her breath, chest heaving as she laid on top of the roof, sun and heat bearing down on her. But she was out of his sight. She was safe, for the moment. He wasn't a very good bounty hunter, but to sink so low to calling her names atop of that? She liked having a challenge, sometimes.

Suddenly, the heat from the sun, the light, was blocked from her vision. Her eyes jerked open, and above her stood him.

The Mandalorian.

He stood above her, broad-shouldered, blocking out any light with his beskar armor, head tilted down at her menacingly. Her own personal ghost.

Before she could move, could scream, his hand was darting out to grab her.

She jerked awake.

It was with a choked gasp she took in air, hand coming over to clutch at her chest. Over her racing heart. Her wide eyes took in the woven, sealed roof of her one-roomed home, the familiar texture of the stone and wood of the walls.

Her few belongings scattered about, medical supplies on the table, herbs and other plants on the counter by the sink. Her staff by the door, waiting to be used. She swallowed thickly, letting these familiar things ease her back down from the panic of that dream. Let the adrenaline leave her.

The Force, always present to her, always around, ghosted around her, a warm fluttering feeling, reassuring in its silent way. She let it wash over her, calming herself and grounding herself in what she knew, what was real.

That dream had not been a memory. Nor did she know if it was a vision. It was probably just a nightmare, that worry and fear ever present of having to run again, of having to look over her shoulder.

She pushed herself out of bed, not letting herself spiral down those thoughts. She changed into her day clothes that were hung over the frame of her bed. Simple, loose pants, dark green tunic that hung down past her legs, her worn down boots she laced up and the belt and hat she slung onto herself. Her eyes traveled to that box she kept under the bed, feeling that familiar longing emanating from it.

The weapon inside called to her, another sense of security, another thing connecting her to that which she had left behind, long ago. Her old life she had to abandon in order to survive in this cruel galaxy.

The nightmare had put her on edge, but it was not the first time she had had a nightmare, let alone one with the Mandalorian bounty hunter in it. After her escape from Utov, she had seen him a handful of other times.

He'd almost gotten her once, so close to cuffing her, but she had managed to trick him, slinking away before he could grab her. His angry steps and curses following suit had told her that he didn't have bounties are tricky as her.

That had been almost two years ago.

She couldn't say she was lucky, considering all of the other bounty hunters that had picked up her bounty in that time, but she knew he was still around. She could hear whispers of his travels on the planets she had been on, of other bounties he had captured. It seemed that he just was focusing on the bounties he could catch.

She let herself feel a little bit of pride with that.

Leaving the weapon under her bed, she walked to the staff next to the door, slinging it over her shoulder along with her bag of medicinal supplies and other things she might need. Putting the large sunhat over her head, she stepped out of her little home into the early morning daylight.

She'd been on the planet of Amia for at least a few months now, enough to see the seasons change from their planting season to their growing season, rich in natural vegetation and wildlife. A forested planet on the outer rim that had only one or two major ports, ones which she was far from now.

There was still a mist on the ground, the little village she was set on the outskirts of still sleepy, still waking up. It had become one of her favorite times to walk, to gather her thoughts and herself before the day started. The sun was just coming up over the horizon, the little village set by the edge of the forests that surrounded this planet. There was a river that ran next to it, which led out to the sea.

She followed the worn trails into more of the heart of the village, her feet naturally following the path. It had become routine, almost, and while she knew routines were dangerous with her type of life, with what hung over her head, she found herself in a false sense of security. Not having to run, not having to fight every second for her life. The villagers here didn't exactly trust her, she was an outsider, after all, but they were friendly enough and made sure she was housed, had food, was able to survive on her own.

It was more kindness than she had received in a long time, the last being the older bartender Danthi on Utov, who she hoped was doing alright, even still.

She made her way through the village as it slowly woke up, greeting the other villagers as they woke up and came out of their own homes, some waving and smiling and others simply nodding at her.

Well. Some villagers were friendlier than others, she supposed.

She made her way to the large home in the middle of the village, surrounded by other smaller homes, a sort of meeting house for the village. Everything was made with the local stone, white, and the dark colored wood of the forests nearby. The planet provided everything they needed, really.

It only was this peaceful because of how far it was from anything else in the galaxy, all of the other conflicts and wars.

Pushing herself through the door of the meeting house, she found she was the first inside. Which wasn't unusual, she just liked being early. she went about her routine, setting up her medical station, setting out what she might possibly need to further treat injuries from yesterday and treat the wounds of today.

The planet might have been far from any conflict from others, but there were wild animals in the woods, and accidents happened.

It was her way of contributing to the village, to help make up for the kindness and what they had given her. It helped play into her story she had clung onto. A refugee from the war, a healer who had lost her family, seeking some sort of safety.

It wasn't entirely a lie, at least.

As she settled into her spot, the first of many for the day came in, asking for help with a wound. And her day flew by in a blur of helping people. She said a quick hello to the other young woman who helped with medicinal things, Ghinia, before she was soothing a young girl who'd twisted her ankle.

Telia, she believed her name was.

She soothed the young girl, along with the mother and Ghinia, wrapping it in bandages and making sure it wasn't broken. She was crying, but she wasn't screaming in pain, which was a relief in of itself.

Ghinia and Telia's mother conversed as she finished wrapping up the ankle, talking about fixing the hole near the edge of the village where Telia had fallen into. It hadn't been the first time this hole had opened up, and they couldn't figure out why it kept coming back.

It was this moment, while the two were distracted, that Fyra let her hand hover over Telia's ankle. "Now, I'm gonna tell you a little secret." She spoke softly, a reassuring smile on her face.

The little girl, with tear stained cheeks and big, red-rimmed, teary eyes, sniffled and looked up at her. There was a look of curiosity in her big brown eyes, wanting to know, as all children did at that age. "What is it?" She asked, momentarily forgetting about her ankle.

"Well, did you know that you're my only patient to come in with a sprained ankle not screaming?" She said, smiling, her hand still hovering over Telia's ankle.

The little girl's eyes widened. "Really?" She whispered out. "Even Big Henry screamed?"

Ah. Big Henry. The head of the outlook team here. A man her own age, large and broad and with an ego large enough to fill the entire village.

She simply grinned at Telia. "Yes. But you have to keep this secret between us, okay? You're my strongest patient."

It wasn't really a secret that Big Henry, as the children called him, was awful at managing any sort of pain. For being as large as he was and how he boasted about how strong he was, a simple shoulder dislocation made her scream, the whole village hearing it.

Telia nodded, eyes wide and filled with a new sense of respect for herself, believing she was strong. And that was all it took for Fyra's hand to subtly swipe across the girl's swollen ankle, relieving and healing it with the Force, at least partially.

Instead of being down for two weeks, she'd be off her feet for a few days, most. Which she knew Telia's mother would appreciate, having two other little ones to wrangle up and take care of.

It was hardly the sort of grand scheme or plan she was sure her old Masters had for her when she was a padawan in training, but she was using her natural gifts to heal people, even as little and simple as this.

"Mama, did you hear Miss Fyra?" Telia said, eyes wide and full of wonder as she looked up at her mother.

The mother simply smiled as she finished her conversation with Ghinia, tired, and shook her head. "I did not. What did she say?" She asked, a hint of apprehension in her voice, eyes darting to the healer in question, as if partially worried what the outsider had said.

"She said I'm her strongest patient!" Telia whisper-shouted, as if it was truly something secretive. "Because I didn't scream. At all!"

The mother chuckled, and then bent down, scooping her up off of the chair she'd been on. She settled the young girl over her hip, her daughter becoming almost too big to pick up. "Well, Miss Fyra is right. You are strong. And very brave too." She said, voice full of amusement and fondness.

The mother then looked to Fyra and gave a thankful nod before turning back to Telia. "Let's get you home and cleaned up. Your father and brothers are probably worried sick about you."

"We can tell them I'm the strongest so they don't need to worry!" Telia exclaimed happily, the pain in her ankle almost all gone, almost completely forgotten about. Telia waved from over her mom's shoulder, squirming almost. "Thank you, Miss Fyra! You're the best!"

Fyra felt a smile on her face, a warm feeling in her chest at the little girl's antics. She watched as they left and then she leaned back on her heels from where she'd been sitting in front of the chair Telia had been on.

A hand was offered to her, and she took it, Ghinia helping pull her up. "That's all she'll be talking about for weeks. Now all of the kids are gonna have a competition to see who can scream less." She snorted in amusement. "Clever thinking, girl."

Fyra shrugged, a sheepish but amused look on her face. "If it helps save our eardrums from early deafness, I'll take it." She commented, and brushed her knees of the dirt and dust from the ground.

"So will I." Ghinia chuckled, smiling. She stretched her back out and then glanced outside of the building they were in. "It's getting late. Probably about time to close up for the night and get some dinner."

Fyra nodded, and moved to start cleaning up her station, putting her supplies back away where they belonged, a comfortable quiet between the two women. It was hard to let herself fall into these routines, when her past had been filled with only running and surviving. But this was as familiar to her as the back of her own hands, healing people.

As they finished wrapping up, they closed up the building for the night and left, walking toward the mess hall, where many of the other villagers were walking toward. Torchlights were lit as the sun was setting past the trees, and within the confines of the small village, it felt safe.

Even still, she couldn't help the feeling of the hairs on the back of her neck standing straight up. Like she was being watched. Her eyes moved toward the edge of the tree lines, where the torchlight didn't hit.

It was probably just a wild animal. There were many creatures out in the woods they did not mess with after dark. They kept their distance, and the animals kept their own. They roamed the deep woods and only ventured during the night, but they did not leave the woods.

It was why the feeling of being watched made her steps slow, her gaze on the treeline. Her eyes tried to focus, look through the dark, shifting trees, as if she could see… something. Something reflecting the torchlight as it shifted and moved.

Ghinia took notice of this.

"Fyra?" She asked, tilting her head, placing a gentle hand on her arm. "What's wrong?"

Fyra shook her head, trying to break herself out of the trance she'd found herself in. She blinked and whatever was reflecting the light was gone, disappeared as if it was never there. "Nothing." She brushed off the concern of the other woman. "Just lost in thought."

Ghinia patted her arm and led her toward the mess hall. "Well, food for thought isn't very filling." She retorted with a smile. "Time to get some real food in you."

With that, the two walked toward the mess hall, the glint of metal slinking away further and further into the trees, camouflaged and hidden.

Following and watching the runaway jedi.

all writing is my own. please do not redistribute, repost, or share on other platforms. thank you

#din djarin #mandalorian fic #my writing #star wars fic #the mandalorian #tw violence #tw canon typical violence #din djarin x jedi!oc #din djarin x female!oc

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