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nsharks · 1 year

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bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part four —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 2.8k tags: death. blood. zombies of course. lowkey cannibalism implication. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn. enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: i'll try to get the next part quicker. my grandma wasn't doing well this past week but she is all good now~

Your fingers are decisive. You slot an arrow on the bowstring and release. It drives through the air with a silent whirl. Your aim is far from the best— it buries into the man’s shoulder rather than his skull.

The revolver falls from his grip and skitters across the ground. Your lips part to warn Blue, to tell her to pick it up before he can, but now his eyes point wildly in your direction.

An inhumane snarl rips through him. He is withered by hunger, aged beyond his true years. Matted hair and leathery skin. Still, he moves quick. He doesn't bother picking up the gun. Something animalistic drives him towards you. You find yourself unable to breathe. This isn’t what you expected. You fumble for another arrow, but as you try to get it on the string, it slips from your hand.

You are fucked.

The realization splinters your bones with adrenaline. It takes only a few blurred seconds for him to reach you. A weight greater than your own shoves you to the ground and your bow is knocked out of your grip. A human stench fills your nose as your arms flail around to keep a snapping mouth from reaching your cheek, your neck, your nose. Close combat is not a skill you’ve mastered. You have rarely needed it. Range weapons and retreating have been the tactics to shape your survival so far.

You can’t hear much besides his growling. You think you hear Blue shout. Blood pulses thick in your veins. You can’t think. A knife— you have that, but it’s in your coat pocket. His body is pressed against it and moving an arm to grab it could be enough for your fragile defense to crack.

It feels like you are being attacked by a dog, one with ribs that poke out and teeth that flash viciously.

Only when he pulls out his own knife does an idea occur to you. There is still the wooden arrow sticking out from his shoulder. It nearly pokes you in the face from all the movement. You wrap a hand around the base of it and snap the wood. You stab the splintered arrow into the first part of him you can reach - his torso. It doesn't stop him. Crazed eyes narrow. His blade goes for your neck but you block it. It cuts through the sleeve of your coat, earning you a gash to the plush of your forearm instead.

“Fuck,” you hiss, and tears prickle. Where is Blue? Maybe she could get—

The man is on top of you, and then he isn’t.

The weight is lifted, and the snarling ceased.

Through stinging eyes, you make out the shape of a dark shadow against the grey sky. There is an abrupt sound - the crack of bone. A snapped neck. The man’s head is bent haphazardly to the side before it rolls forward, limp and silenced. You breathe heavily through lungs that hurt.

A growl.

This is one you are familiar with.

But the arrival of it offers, for the first time, a sense of relief.

Your gaze slides over the form of broad shoulders and thick arms that toss the dead body to the side with ease. With the view from where you lay, Ghost looks even taller. Blue is dwarfed by him as she approaches his side, her eyes widened with concern more than fear.

She must have called for him. Or maybe he heard the snarling and rushed over.

Although you are the one laying on the ground, freshly attacked, she is the one he checks. Ghost touches a gloved hand to her cheek, moving his eyes to sweep over her.

“You alright?” he asks, firm yet gentle. “Did he hurt you?”

She gives a dismissive shake of her head. Then, it is she who bends down to help you up. It is a feeble attempt with only a child’s arm as your crutch. Your body feels like it’s been pillaged of energy. The wound on your arm is not nearly as bad as what their caltrops did to you, but it is enough to make you choke in pain.

“Fuckin’ hell," Ghost mumbles, before he gets the job done right by scooping you up. Only for a short moment are you in his strong arms, before he plants you on your feet.

"Did you know him?"

You press your palm over the gash, applying pressure over the oozing blood. Through tight teeth, you utter, “No.”

“Were there other camps in your area?”

You stand there bleeding, and he is interrogating you?

“I-I think so. Yes. One or two.”

He speaks under his breath, more to himself than to either of you. “Maybe he had to run, too, huh? Crazy fuck.” He roughly taps a boot to the side of the man’s body, inspecting it without care for its corpse. He glances around the trees for a short moment. Then, he looks back at you.

“Can you walk?”

It is less caring and more practical.

Can you?

“Yes,” you tell him, nodding lazily. Your eyes roll to the ground, having to watch each step of your boots to keep them moving steadily.

The walk back to camp is silent. Before you leave, Blue fetches the fallen revolver in the snow and gives it to him. Ghost discovers only one bullet in it. He carries the bow for you. You keep hold over the gash, hand soaked red.

At one point, a small hand brushes against your free one until her father grabs it and tugs her back to his side.

Everything feels like a blurred dream. Your brain decides to block out any thoughts of who that person was and where they came from. More importantly, what he could’ve done to you or Blue.

By the time you’ve made it to the cabin, you can’t recall what time of day it is. The boarded windows block out most light except a few stray strips. Ghost turns on a dim lamp.

To your surprise, he instructs you to sit on the couch and disappears for a moment before returning with his medical kit, which you have been a patient of once already.

This time, you are awake for it. Blue stands near the couch. He pulls a stool beside you. You shuck off your coat and roll up your soaked sleeve to reveal the gash that runs from the middle of your forearm to the knob of your elbow.

You know it could have been worse. If the blade had nicked bone, you’d be howling right now.

“Wet a cloth for me, Blue.”

She does so.

You twist your shoulder to offer the wound to him. Rough fingertips dab the damp cloth to the area and you roll your lips. You try to look at the wall to distract yourself, but find your gaze shifting to your nurse. He is a pragmatic one. All you can see are ashen lashes that line firm, shadow-cast eyes. Warmth rolls off his body in billows.

He puts the cloth down and rummages around for a needle and one of the rolls of black thread.

Before he can pierce the first stitch, his daughter’s soft voice stops him.

“Ghost,” she murmurs to break the silence. She walks over to the kit and grabs a small tube. Antiseptic, you believe. “You… You forgot this.”

His eyes lift from your arm and he looks back at her. There is a silent language they share. You’ve acted as a witness to it a few times now. You are not fluent in it, but with the way Blue’s brows furrow together, you have an idea of what he is trying to remind her of.

He is willing to offer the stitches.

You’ve spotted at least two rolls of the stuff.

But the antiseptic isn’t for you this time.

None of their medicine is for you.

“It might get infected,” she argues against his stare, her voice congealing into something firmer. She studies him.

“I’m not having this conversation with you,” he tells her lowly.

“She saved my life, Dad.” She grips the tube in one hand. With the other hand, she rubs the heel over her eyes. “That guy went after her because she… she protected me.”

You stare at the shorn rug, finding a distraction in the worn threads of red and blue. This conversation thickens the air.

Blue continues, words pushed out in a ramble now, “I didn’t even see him there. I wasn’t,” and her eyes drift to the floor before she admits, “I wasn’t aware of my surroundings, okay? But she saw him and she helped me. That is why he—”

“And how many times have we helped her?” he interrupts harshly.

He is either unconvinced of your role as a savior or doesn’t particularly care, not when it means sharing vital resources. He hadn’t witnessed the whole thing. It all happened so fast.

“We can help her more,” his daughter insists. “We can make sure she doesn’t get an infection.”

Ghost’s voice travels a notch louder, “Then that is one less time we can make sure you don’t get an infection.”

You can remember this type of tone - your own father used it a few times on you as a kid, but never did it carry the weight of life or death. Your arguments usually involved doing your homework or eating an extra sweet after dinner. For Ghost and Blue, most of their disagreements are about survival and mercy.

He turns to face his daughter fully. “Do you understand?”

“I just think—"

“Look at me,” Ghost says. There is no room here for her to bicker with him. “Do you understand?”

She meets his gaze under lashes that flutter hesitantly, casting shadows across her pale temples. With a swallow, Blue quietly answers, “I do.”

She puts the ointment back.

He stitches you up.

You bite your palm to keep silent.

Sleep evades you.

You jolt up against the floorboards when you hear the shed’s door creak open.

“Just me.”

With the light of a small flashlight, her eyes glisten. You sit up, spine sore. You didn’t eat dinner tonight; you hadn’t managed anything during your short-lived hunt, and you didn’t dare to ask for food. You didn’t think it was a good idea to further test Ghost’s generosity.

“Hey,” you give her a small smile. “It’s late.”

“I know.” She carries something in her other hand - a lumpy pillow. She sits down on the floor of your shed and you scoot your legs over so she can have space. “Ghost said I could give you this. Something to sleep on.”

“Oh, thanks.” You can’t help it, the words leave dryly: “He’s so generous.”

A look passes over her illuminated face - something apologetic, something wary. She looks down at the pillow in her hands and runs a hand over the fabric.

“I asked if you could sleep inside now,” she says quietly, sighing. “He said it’s a bad idea. You could steal our stuff and whatnot.”

“That’s okay. The pillow will help a lot. And—” you wave a hand around, “Kind of like my own hotel room here.”

“Maybe we could decorate it.” Blue looks around. “At least, in the spring when the flowers come back. There are these really pretty white ones by the pond."

You want to tell her you’re not sure if you will be here that long. Instead, you tell her, “Maybe.”

“I wanted to say thank you,” she then says. Her hair is still in the braids, but a few wisps have slipped out. Blue toys with one of them thoughtfully. “You really did save my life today, huh?”

“You’ve saved mine before."

Probably more than once.

She nods. She seems deep in thought, and the color of her eyes appears less youthful than usual. You really didn’t need to think twice about protecting her. A child’s life - her future - means more than whatever awaits you, anyway.

“Ghost always says that the only person you can trust is yourself,” she mutters into the small space. “What do you think?”

“I think he’s right. I think that being careful with who you trust is smart.”

“Do you trust me?” whispers Blue.

“A little bit.”

You can’t trust her fully. She still has a higher power to answer to, despite her innocent intentions.

It is then that Blue flips the pillow over. Her hand slips under the faded, cotton case of it and reaches for something hidden inside— what you now realize to be the cause for the lump at the bottom. What she digs out and reveals to you in the palm of her hand has your breath catching in your throat. The tube of antiseptic.

“I can’t,” you choke after a beat of silence.

Moisture dallops the rims of your eyes. You don’t know why; this kind gesture feels foreign, inviting a strange weight to your chest.

“Blue... thank you, but I can’t.”

“You can,” she says and begins to untwist the top. “You had my back, and I have yours. I don’t want your arm to get infected.”

But your hand reaches to cover hers, halting the removal of the top and pushing the tube closer to her chest, away from you.

“Ghost will notice,” you explain. “And then you will get in trouble and he will make me leave, alright? Thank you, but I can’t.”

“Just a little,” she insists in a hushed voice. “He won’t notice if I put it right back.”

With great reluctance, you move your hand away and let her continue. Even just a little could be enough to save you from a nasty infection, and it’s not like you have antibiotics. If you did get an infection, you’d have to take the treacherous journey to a pharmacy and hope that there is still something left on the shelves. You’re not confident that you are in strong enough shape yet to survive a trip like that.

You shrug off your coat.

You’d rinsed out your shirt and dried it by the fireplace before retreating to your shed. Lifting up the cleaned sleeve, you reveal the gash sealed with sutures. The ridge of it is a swollen range of ugly mountains against the rest of your unblemished forearm.

With soft fingertips, she dabs some on. You swallow and offer another thank you.

When she is done, you lower the sleeve and rub at your damp eyes.

“I will put a liiiiittle more on tomorrow night, too. Just a little,” she tells you, and the youth sparkles back in her irises. She gives you the pillow. She puts the tube in her coat pocket this time. Not as great of a hiding place but you hope she knows what she is doing.

Before Blue leaves you to sleep, she tells you:

“I trust you a little bit, too, you know.”

a/n: more sweet papa ghost in the next one i promise :)

taglist: @cool-0-n @savagemistresss @morganvoorhees @dinsverdika @cated18 @lolszass @jeswiii @all-good-things-have-an-ending @alternatealt @uvoiid @underatreedrinkingtea @ramadiiiisme @crissteetee67 @lexi-zsy09 @spikespiegell @littlezarp @rebel-soldat @4headkissess @mckenzieriley69 @moxxiestar @palomaxaxaxa @msjaeger @galacticstxrdust @anubiseqq @l-0-v-3-r-z @kakashiislut @a-queen-blr @random0lover @hehatesmati @ghost-with-a-teacup @konigbabe

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost #zombies #zombie apocolypse au #cod #call of duty #fanfiction

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 3 months

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Write a fic about where you are attending kindergarten and then there's a rat fighting off foot ninjas

and then TMNT x reader

Ninjas In Kindergarten (Angst?/Crack?/Fluff?)

Bayverse!Turtles x reader

A/N: In honor of the second rat we found in the toilet today, along with the signs of rats in the other parts of the kindergarten, daycare and staff room, I bring you this. I’ve changed it from Foot ninjas to a mouser, and brought the turtles in just for the fun of it. And oh yeah, they brought the rat hound in again. IT FOUND ANOTHER RAT WHILE WE WERE THERE. What an internship. It isn’t boring I tell ya.

Btw, me and the kids are now joking that it's Master Splinter’s unmutated family that wishes to recruit ninjas on their own. These little ninjas now do a double check before using the toilet.

Warning: Kids in danger, crying children, and spelling like always.

It was a surprisingly calm day for a Monday in a kindergarten. All handovers of the kids from their parents had gone smoothly, with the kids happily playing together on the mats, the pillow room or the play kitchen. Even the girl that tended to cry whenever her mother dropped her off was in a somewhat good mood, drawing with her two best friends at one of the tables.

You sat by the play kitchen area, plastic food all around you as the boys and girls around you handed you food, acting as if you were the only guest in an overstaffed restaurant. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see one of the adults cutting up fruit, while another one brought more pencils to the drawing table, all while the third one was changing diapers on the three youngest kids.

It was nice to finally have a calm day at your internship. The past few weeks had been somewhat chaotic. Not so chaotic that you couldn’t keep afloat, but enough to make you very tired whenever you finally got home. But damn it, these sweet kids made the whole ordeal worth it, only making you excited for the day you would have your own.

You and your boyfriend had started to talk about children. Nothing was set in stone yet, but the topic had been up several times. Well, if it was possible that was. With your boyfriend’s… less than human nature, none of you were sure that a child would even be possible. But nonetheless you dreamed, finding your heart jump whenever one of the kids accidentally called you mom.

“(Y/N)!”, one of the girls at the table called out, running to you with the drawing in her hands. Her 4 year old face, bright eyes and happy smile shined proudly as she held up her drawing for you. It was a blob of colors with no form of meaning, but nonetheless she was happy. “I made it for my mom!”

“Woooow!”, you smiled, leaning forward to show interest in the paper and the many doodles on it. “Did you really make that all by yourself?”

“Yes!”, she said with a little happy jump. “All by myself!”

“I think your mother is going to like it a lot”, you said, smiling as another kid handed you yet another piece of plastic food, adding it to the growing pile in your lap. “I think you should put it in your drawer. Then mommy will know where it is”.

“Okay!”, she smiled, running to her drawer with a skip in her steps.

With the paper in one hand, she opened her drawer, only to jump back with a scream, causing you and the other adult to jump, all turning your attention her way, all the kids doing the same in quiet shock. In her drawer was a mechanine, the size of a mouth, with one bright red lamp where its eyes should be, walking around on two feet. You jumped at the sight, knowing exactly what it was. You had seen such a thing several times with your boyfriend and his brothers, during your run ins with one certain scientist.

You quickly ran to the girl and pulled her back, just before the mouser jumped out of the drawer, snapping out at you. All the kids let out a scream, running for the farest corner in order to get away from the mouser.

In one swift move, you pressed the number that the turtles had given you onto the keyboard, sending an alarm signal to the ninjas, before giving the mouser a hard kick as it tried to get near you and the poor crying girl.

“Up on the tables!”, you yelled over your shoulder to the three other adults, quickly helping the girl up on the nearest table, before helping the next kid. “Keep the mouser away from the kids!”

And so you did, getting all the kids up on the tables, ignoring the questioning looks from the other pedagogues, as they wondered how you knew what that thing was.

You got the last kid up on the table, kicking the mouser back once more, before quickly jumping up on the table to the kids, before it could bite at your ankles. The kids on the table hug you tightly, crying as the mouser started to bite at the wooden legs of the table, trying to get it to fall.

Suddenly the door swung up, revealing your mutant turtle boyfriend in the front and his brothers right behind him. The moment he spotted the mouser at the feet of your table, he jumped into action, smashing it into pieces with his weapons, causing the room to fall quiet. Thankfully the kids weren't crying at the moment, but you could tell by the looks on their faces that the sight of four mutant ninja turtles would soon cause another round of crying.

“So”, you said, trying to defuse the building intensity in the room. “Kids, this is my boyfriend. You know, the one that was a little different with strong muscles? That is him”.

Your boyfriend waved at the kids with a somewhat awkward smile. When he and his brothers gave you that emergency number, he had never thought he would have to come and save you, three pedagogues and a bunch of kids from a rogue mouser.

To his surprise, one of the kids poked at him, staring at him with their big eyes and runny nose, not fearing his big frame as he looked at them.

“Are you green because you ate broccoli?”

“Yes”, your boyfriend answered with a smile, before knocking on his shell. “And I got this from drinking coconut milk”.

“Oh boy”, was the only thing you could mutter, before the questions came flying, all of the kids wanting to learn about your strange boyfriend and his brothers.

It didn’t take long before the kids started playing with your boyfriend and the other turtles. With Mikey they took turns to jump on the smashed mouser, laughing loudly at the sounds it made. Donnie drew with girls, taking a look at the drawing the girl from before had made. Raph played a throwing game, throwing the kids into a pile of pillows one by one, while Leo was making a tower of building blocks with the quiet kids, their eyes growing wider the taller the tower got.

It was safe to say that you would have to bring your boyfriend and his family to your internship a little more often, especially when the kids started screaming and asking you to bring them once again. There was nothing you could do. The kids had turned into big fans of the ninja turtles. And it was adorable.

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queers-gambit · 1 year

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Kin Slayer [ part two ]

PICKS UP INSTANTLY FROM WHERE [ part one ] LEFT OFF [ alternate ending two: Sweetest Devotion ] [ series masterlist ]

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!wife!reader

fandom: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.4k+

note: two parts cause total word count was 12k+. also, this is the final, people!!

warnings: loose book spoilers - proceed at your own risk. cursing, spoilers, angst angst angst. ❗️SPOILERS

The Dance of Dragons was a bloody war that left families and towns splintered; burnt into nothing for wind to sweep away the ashes. Corlys had been named Hand of the Queen, and together, devised a plan to protect her remaining children. You were on bedrest at Dragonstone, so, you were accounted for. Joffrey was to be sent to the Vale with his dragon and a few eggs, as well as your step-sister, Rhaena, who visited you the most following Rhaenys' death.

Poor lass needed comforting, and you were happy to provide.

Your half-siblings, Viserys and Aegon (the Younger), were sent on a ship to Pentos - something you grew jealous of. Being on bedrest left no room for any other thought beside how you should have accepted, risked everything, and ran away with Aemond across the Narrow Sea.

This left Jace to step-up in your place, and after your advice, sent word for any Dragonseeds to attempt to master riderless dragons. Dragonseeds were Targaryen bastards and though very few ever got the right to ride a dragon, your brother offered an opportunity that only four could complete.

The ancient dragon Vermithor was claimed, as well as your father's dragon, Seasmoke, Silverwing, and the temperamental Sheepstealer.

However, at the same time, according to scouts, the Gullet of King's Landing had been overrun - and word reached you of your baby half-brother's demise. One captured, the other left to cling to his injured dragon and swim for Dragonstone's shore.

However, as your mother told you the news, there was a commotion from the courtyard that even Rhaenyra could not stop you from leaping to your feet to stare out the window.

"JACE!" You worried, hand to your cramping belly. "DON'T!"

But he was gone - away on Vermax, going to avenge his half-brothers in a fit of impulsive rage. In response to your stress, you gasped when your legs were covered in a sudden rush of slick, and before you were due, it was evident your child was coming. Your mother lead you back to the bed and called for the Maesters, never once leaving you alone through the bloody ordeal. It was the worst string of events you could recall - where Aegon was resting from his frightening ordeal, you were screaming in pain, and Jace was flying too low to the surface of Blackwater Bay - crashing.

Vermax did not survive the ordeal, and rumor had it, soldiers on the Green's ships fired at your helpless brother - spearing him to death. The pirates then made land-fall, and your father's home of Driftmark was set ablaze. Through the fire and smoke and pain and misery, you were no different.

The birth lasted two full days, and during the whole of it, you felt your emotional dam shatter. Through pain, sweat, and tears, you begged the room, "Please, please, someone find Aemond. Please, for the love of the Gods, get my husband. Please! Send for him! He should be here!"

"You know he cannot be here, love," Your mother tried to encourage, but you were sobbing harder.

"Please, fuck this war - fuck the succession. Fuck everything! J-Just let him be here, please! Please!" You sobbed, "Someone take Kasta - or just send Kasta herself! He will understand! Please, please, please, he should be here. I-I need him," you felt broken, "I need him here, please, get Aemond, find my husband, I need him, please, please."

Rhaenyra just held you tighter as you sobbed uncontrollably. With your dressing gown soaked all the way through with sweat and blood, you started to pace around the birthing chamber with your hand reached for your cunt periodically to feel for the diameter. You knew there was much time to go, but the pain was indescribable.

When the contractions were too powerful, you refused any aid - except your mother's. Rhaenyra was at your side as you squatted to the floor, using the stone wall to keep you upright as your hands tried to guide your babe from your bloodied cunt.

Still, you begged for Aemond because this was something you couldn't do alone and while you had your mother, you needed your husband. Your heart was broken, your stress tangible, and for the life of you, no matter how hard you screamed or begged, there was never any relief from pain - in head, body, and heart.

The darkness had only just set over your family.

As a messenger arrived to give news of Jacerys' death, you were pulling your still-born son out, sobbing at the sight of their his body. Your mother tried to remain strong but she was surrounded by death; both by a scroll detailing the demise of her first born son, and that of her first born child giving birth to twins who would never draw their first breaths. Rhaenyra held your son as you pulled your daughter out, soon slumping into the puddle of blood and fluid as you weakly held your babies.

"Spread your legs," your mother nodded, guiding your knees open as you only offered her a look of curiosity. "The afterbirth, my love," she explained, helping you in the final part of delivery - but you barely noticed. You didn't feel. How could you, when you were holding your heart in your arms? Your eyes were locked on the bloody babies, confusion and resentment circling your gut.

"Well," you whispered, glancing at your mother, "that's that, then."

She frowned deeply, gazing at the dead look in your eyes. "I'm so sorry, my girl."

You nodded slowly, only one question on your mind, "Do I tell him?"

Rhaenyra scoffed gently, "Give yourself time to grieve, my love. You need to mourn before you worry about anything else."

You sighed, head leaning back to the stone behind you as her hand reached out to pet sticky hair from your face. "Did I do this?" You whispered. "Did I push myself too far? Did... Did I kill my babies, Mumma? Is this my fault?"

She sighed with a frown, "In truth, you did not know about the ambush... I do not think the fault lies with you, my love. Sometimes, these things happen when the mother is under incredible stress."

You hummed as Aemond once did, unable to move. Even when she tried to coax you to your feet, you refused to get up as your body was drained of life, of purpose; of any energy or drive to continue forward. Yet, hours after giving birth, you were on your feet and wrapping both babies in cloth before presenting them to Kasta on a pyre of wood.

Your mother's hand remained in yours as your voice clearly rang out in the cold night, "Dracarys, Kasta."

She whined with steam leaking from her nose, waiting for you to give a second command before heaving a large inhale and upon exhale, let out of a stream of fire.

The light flickered in the night, and from that moment forward, you were never the same. Something in your heart snapped, something in your mind broke, and in your soul, shriveled into nothing. You were desperate to understand why your children had to suffer for someone else's war, and in your despair, forgot to pen a letter to Aemond.

Yet, perhaps that was good - for your anger bubbled as bright as Kasta's flames. You needed someone to blame and the stress of Rook's Rest seemed the most appropriate; leaving your mind set on the Greens. Your anger festered and showed in your fighting in the war, leaving nothing but smoldering ashes anywhere you were sent.

Time on Dragonstone became hectic following Jace's death. You were your parent's secret weapon and felt little ire for your actions; charging headfirst into danger without so much as a second thought towards consequences. With your babies gone, you felt little reason to be cautious - because being reckless seemed your speed now.

Word then reached your ear of Aemond marching armies and flying Vhagar into the Riverlands. Your spies told your mother, who had ensured to you that your step-father, Daemon, who was in Harrenhal still, also knew of the movements. You remained at Dragonstone with Kasta as your mother and Daemon flew to sack the Capital City, and soon enough, word reached you that the city fell in less than a day. You sent Rhaenyra's sons to her, but remained in the place you were to inherit.

Time passed still, and your heart never mended.

However, imagine your surprise when you came face-to-face with Aegon II in a darkened hall late one stormy night. "Aegon?" You questioned in earnest shock. "Am I seeing things? That really you?"

"It's me, sister," he snipped curtly, hands clasping before him.

"What're you doing here?"

"I've been here for a bit actually," he revealed. "I was smuggled from the capital before your mother took it."

"Hmm," you considered nervously, "I see. And you're here now, because...?"

He sighed, "If I ever owe my brother anything in this life, I will never again after this one curtesy. You can't win this war, Y/N, and there are Greens here to take the island."

"This is my home, Aegon, I cannot abandon it," you argued.

"I'm trying to give you time to go get your kid, get on your dragon and get the hell out of here," he snapped. "This is the one - the one curtesy I will grant my brother after all he's done."

"You owe him so much more," you sneered. "You do not deserve him."

"Did you, ever?" You steeled your jaw. "Now, go. Before I change my mind and instead send him your head."

"Where is he?" You decided not to mention the death of your children.

Aegon sighed, "The Riverlands, still. You might be able to find him."

You shook your head, "How'd it come to this, Aegon?"

"In truth?" He sighed. "I do not know anymore. But you need to go, get your kid, and get the Hells out of here. Do not try to alert the others," he nodded, and a guard stepped out. "My man here will ensure you do not stray from task."

Nodding, you whispered, "Thank you... Aegon."

He nodded in return, seemingly genuinely shocked by your words. You turned and rushed for your room, packing whatever you would need - whatever would fit for your trip. Aegon's man stayed true and saw you to Kasta, and you were left no choice in mounting and surging into the air. You had no choice but to abandon your home.

Aegon and Sunfyre watched you go.

You flew for days, no sign of any Black ally. You grew frustrated, and Kasta understood; taking control and turning to head a bit farther West. You were confused until you came across smoke, and through it, you made out the form of your husband's dragon burning the countryside. Fearing for the lives of those countrymen who lived here, Kasta located Vhagar in the air - but the great dragon saw her coming. It was a clash of flesh, teeth, and claws; yet neither you, nor Aemond, were willing to concede.

Fate worked in funny ways, and before you understood what was happening, you screamed when one of Vhagar's teeth pierced into the flesh of your calf when she latched onto Kasta's chest in a fatal bite.

You swore you heard Aemond telling Vhagar not to, but a moment later, you were thrown from the saddle as Vhagar had crushed your beast into the ground. You were momentarily knocked out before coming to again, noticing your armor had been ripped off in the crash, gazing around you as Vhagar took a victory lap in the air, and you saw your beloved mount... Laying unmoving.

"KASTA!" You screamed, half-crawling-half-limping your way to her in a rush, thinking you could save her. "Oh, Gods, no, no, fuck, fuck, fuck, this wasn't supposed to happen," you wept, letting her muzzle rest on your lap as you got a look at her injuries. Vhagar had all but gutted her, leaving thick spurts of blood to leak into the cratered ground around you. "Oh, my precious girl, not you... Not you," you sighed as you stroked her cheek and neck.

Behind you, Vhagar landed with a tremble, and your head whipped around with anger when you noted Aemond dismounting. Gritting your teeth, you stood to your unsteady feet and unsheathed your sword; turning to face Aemond as he came to a halt. "Love," he warned, hand held in caution, "it doesn't have to come to this."

"We're past that," you seethed. "What're you doing here? If your brother can't rule, you'll ensure there's not even a country to preside over?"

He shook his head, "I need to draw your step-father out."

"He's not so easily taunted," you argued, readjusting the weight of your sword, "but I know what will draw him to you."

"No," he refused, "I will not fight you."

"I did not say fight," you sighed, starting your approach and ignoring the pain through your legs. "You'll have to kill me today, Aemond. No more running, we finish this now."

"No," he backed up, but you did not stop. Taking a swing, he jerked back as his sword rose to the defense. "Sweetheart, no, just listen - "

"I'm done listening," another hack from your sword was blocked. "You've ruined everything," your tears surfaced as anger burst; channeling it through your movements that left Aemond shocked. "You had to kill my brother - and I have not known peace since!"

"It was an accident!"

"LIAR!" You raged, metal clanging together. "You wanted to torment him - you wanted to pursue! You could not let it go - and in turn, you ruined any future we could've had!" Your sword swung around, nearly catching his chest - forcing him to flinch backwards. "You did this - why!? Huh!? Why ruin what we had!? Fight me, Aemond! Show me the swordsman I know you to be and fucking fight me!"

"I cannot! I will not!"

"You must!" You heaved, and Aemond was forced to brandish his sword to fend you off. You grit your teeth, and for a moment, Aemond had no idea who you were. He's never fought you, he's never seen you fight, but he knew you father, Laenor, and step-father, Daemon, both trained you. They were incredible soldiers on their own, and in you, was all their skill. None of their distraction.

Aemond was losing this fight, and his temper was slipping.

"FIGHT ME!" You raged through angry tears, iron clanging against each other. "I am left with nothing, there is no more left for me to lose!" Another deafening clash of iron rang out around you. "You've taken everything with this stupid fucking war! I've lost it all! Everything! Because of YOU!" You fully sobbed, never relenting in your attack despite the exhaustion settling in. "My brothers! My dragon! My babies!"

"Wait! Wait, love, wait!" He barked, using both hands to hold his sword hilt against your swinging attack to simply pause in midair as you both panted heavily. "Wh-What're you talking about? What happened?"

Your eyes were dead but shining with tears, "They're dead."

"Who?"

You sniffled, "W-We should have a pair of beautiful twins. A little girl, who looks just like my Aunt Laena - and a little boy, you looked just as his father!" But the anger came back, making you swing the swords to break contact. You attacked again, making him block you, "They're both dead! Because of you and your attack on Rhaenys at Rook's Rest! You started this war - and I lost everything I've loved!"

"You weren't supposed to be there that day!" He insisted, still fending you off with his sword. "I thought with your pregnancy, your mother would not risk you!"

You laughed bitterly, "You weren't there to protect me, now were you? My mother needed me, I came back to her, and in return, I could not shy away from what she needed."

His breathing staggered, "You were sent to the frontlines."

"I was," you grit, pulling back before swinging again. "You weren't there! I needed you!" Another clash of swords. "I needed you with me, I was alone! I was alone, you let me be alone, I needed you, and you weren't there! I had to go through that birth with only my mother, and all I fucking wanted - all I fucking needed was you! You weren't there and I needed you!"

"That was not my doing - "

"You started this war when you killed my brother!" You raged. "Fight me, fucking Kin Slayer!"

Your hacking movements made him defensive and in a short moment, everything changed. Aemond, quick with his blade, but playing the evasive measure, had parried your attack before taking a wide, sharp swipe. But it was enough, and he froze the moment you did; eyes widening as shock passed between the short space between you.

Looking down, your tunic was blooming in bright red blood after the tip of his sword cut clean across your gut. Your hands, after months of pressing to the same area to hold your babies, now tried to hold your entails inside you as your sword clattered to the ground. You stumbled back a few steps, groaning as blood slowly coated your mouth, eyes cutting up to meet that of Aemond's fearful stare.

"A-Aemond?"

"Love?" He asked, dropping his blade to rush for you. You did not fight him, letting his hands take hold of you as he helped navigate you back towards a still-moaning, barely breathing Kasta. "Hey, hey, hey, no, no, no, no, no, no no, no," he whispered when you were lowered in your dragon's blood, leaning to her shoulder for support. "Oh, Gods, what have I done? No, please, no, fuck - Gods, no."

You smile ruefully, choking lightly on your blood; teeth lined with red as you whispered, "Now y-you cannot deny the title Kin Slayer."

"No, no, do not, don't do this, please," he argued. "Don't call me that, I-I'm your husband, I'm your love, your sweet husband, remember? Don't call me that, please. None of this should have happened - I'm so sorry - please. Just stay with me, okay? I-I'll fix this - I can fix this."

But you both knew he couldn't. Just like all those years ago when your hands had covered his injured eye, his pressed to your gut. Like those years ago, as your hands once had, now his were coating in your life's liquid.

It silent for a moment as all defenses of yours finally dropped and your tears suffocated you more than the internal bleeding you suffered through. "A-Aemond," you whispered, feeling one hand move to caress your cheek, "I-I'm so scared, love, please. I'm so scared. I don't want to do this alone, please, Aemond, don't make me do this alone. I-I need you, my love, please."

He sighed and moved beside you, not minding the wetness of the blood surrounding you both; lifting his arm to draw you into his warm embrace. You don't voice it, but you're starting to feel cold and the warmth he provided was something you cherished.

"I'm so scared, too, my love," he admits in a whisper. "I'm so sorry."

"I am, too," you sobbed into his neck. "I'm so sorry, I'm so fucking sorry. Aemond, please, i-it hurts, my love, please. I-I don't want to die, I don't want to be without you, I-I can't do this next part alone. I hate how this war played out," you whimpered, his arm tightening as the other came around to cradle your head into his neck. "I wish I would've run away with you when we had the chance. So much would be different... W-We'd have our baby."

"Don't do that," he rushed, kissing your sweaty forehead. "It's okay we didn't run, it's okay, sweet girl. It's all going to be okay, I promise you."

"What if it's not?"

"It has to be," he promised, giving you a squeeze. "I'm not leaving, you're not alone. I'm here, I'm right here, my love. You're okay. You're going to be okay, I promise you, you're never alone."

"Would you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

"Show me all of you," you whispered. Aemond understood and all but ripped his eyepatch off, caressing your cheek again. You sighed in wonder, "There he is. My handsome husband."

Aemond smiled sadly, "I don't think I can let you go."

"At-At-At least, y-you'll get Daemon out here," you chuckled sadly, fully leaning into his embrace as your neck hurt trying to keep it upright; crashing to his shoulder. "You'll get what you want - an end to this, if you kill him."

Aemond shook his head and tried to press a hand to your wound, again - but it only made more blood seep over his fingers. "My love, please, let me get you out of here. Kasta's spent, sweetheart, and I'm so fucking sorry for that loss, but I can get you t-to Maesters on Vhagar. Please, let me try."

"'S too late for me," you chuckled dryly, patting one of his wrists as your energy was depleting.

"What have I done?" he whispered, looking more panicked than the night he told you about Luke.

"What was needed in wartime," you sniffled, using your energy to lift your gaze up to him, again. Weakly, you let go of your wound to reach for the neckline of your tunic, pulling it down some and leaving smears of bloody fingerprints. "Please," you whispered.

He let his brows furrow, gently reaching for what you referred to. He breathed out when he discovered the golden Warrior pendent you had gifted him for his first nameday as a married couple.

"Take it," you begged, "let it protect you while I'm gone."

"Love - "

"It was a gift," you insisted. "Take it back. Do not make a dying woman beg."

"All right," he whispered, readjusting slightly to unclasp the chain and remove the necklace.

You settled back into his side as you knew the end was nearing. With your hands holding your entrails in and his arms tight around you, you whispered, "Is it true that you took a lover?" Aemond stops breathing for a second. "Please do not lie to me."

He shudders a moment, "I did."

"What's her name?"

He doesn't want to respond, but he does, "Alys. Alys Rivers."

You hummed breathlessly, whispering, "Do you love her?"

"No," he answers instantly, "but... She is useful."

"Oh, Aemond, I do not wish to hear - "

"No, no, you misunderstand," he rushes. "She's unlike anyone I've met. She... Sees things in the flames, love. Like a sort of witchcraft."

You hummed, "Like across the Narrow Sea."

He nodded, lips pressing over your forehead, "Yes."

"Then she told you to come here, did she?"

Aemond pauses, tears falling faster, harder, "She did..."

"Hmm," you sighed, "now I see. She knew I'd be here and needed you to commit to her."

"What?"

"That's how these things work," you croak with a sad smile, letting a bit of blood spit from your mouth to splatter on the dirt. "She needs you: mind, body, and soul. Y-You can't be hers because y-you're mine. W-With me gone, s-she can finally have you, and service you better. J-Just promise me something, please," you felt your throat starting to close.

"Anything, my love. Anything you ask for, I will always give you," Aemond promised swiftly, bringing your forehead to his.

Through your tears, you manage to whisper, "Please don't forget about me. With no children, we've no legacy, but... But if you don't forget me, I cannot ask for much else."

Aemond holds his breath again. Then, he whispers, "I could never forget you, my sweet girl. We are bonded together, my love, and you will always be a part of me, my darling, sweet wife. I will never forget you because I could never love another because all my love is yours, and always will be." It's quiet for a moment before he admits, "You're it for me, my pretty girl, I won't ever love another, won't ever take another wife, and I'm so fucking sorry." His sobs become uncontrollable, holding onto you tightly, "I'm so sorry. This never should have come to pass, I'm so sorry."

You nod, "I forgive you... For all of it." You're dying and there's no use denying that, not wanting to take your anger to the grave. "Aemond, now I-I need to ask the impossible of you, my love."

"Anything," he promises.

But you sobbing through your request, "Kill me, pl-please. J-Just make it stop, love, it hurts so bad. So fucking bad. Please."

For the first time in his life, Aemond had to refuse you, "No, no, not in this lifetime, I cannot - please, do not ask that of me. Let me get you help - "

"It's too late for me, my love, and we both know it," you sniffled. "Please, Aemond. Ju-Just make it s-s-stop."

"I cannot," he whimpered, forehead to yours again. "I love you so much, more than reason and more than life. I cannot do this to you, I-I hate myself for where we are now. Please do not ask this of me."

"I-I don't want to go," you admitted, holding onto him so you were nearly pulled fully into his lap. "I'm so scared, Aemond, please. I don't want to do this alone, please, my love, I don't want to be alone. I just want to be with you, I can't go - I don't want to go. Please, I don't want to be alone."

"You'll never be alone," he tried to promise but his emotion was too thick to sound confident. "There's so many who love you who are waiting for you beyond this life. They're going to be with you, always, an-and soon, I will be there with you. You'll wait for me, right? Yes?"

You nodded against him, trying to hold your sobs in, "I'll wait for you, my love, yeah. As long as it takes, I'll wait for you."

"I'll miss you so much," he whispers. You smirk gently, lifting a bloody hand to pet over his cheek - staining any part of him you touched with blood. "I know it pains you, but I'm glad, in the end, it was you."

"Don't say that," he pleaded.

"I am, because I get to meet my end with you," you nodded. "But Aemond, yo-you've gotta finish it for me, love."

"No," he refused again.

"Please," you begged quietly. "Just do it, Aemond. I-I'm not surviving this, I'll only suffer worse."

"I cannot," he still refused. "I know it is a kindness, my sweet girl, but I cannot be the one who takes your life - not like this. Please, do not ask this of me."

Kasta gave a low groan.

"Would you do me a different kindness, then?" You whispered.

"I will try to," he nodded, tears falling down his soaked cheeks. Above, the sky slowly started to darken as a new storm brewed.

"Kiss me goodbye," your bottom lip trembled as you tried to smile at him but the action was near impossible. "Please, husband?"

"You need never ask me. I love you so much, my sweet girl," he swore, leaning in to press a last kiss to your bloodied lips. You hummed softly, keeping him close for a moment longer to savor this moment. But it was over far too soon.

"I love you, too," you sniffled when you pulled back and he started to shift onto his feet, but remained crouched to keep level with you. "Do not forget me, my love, please."

"Never in my life," he whispered, letting his tears flow as he took one final kiss. "I'll miss you beyond words, my pretty girl."

"Thank you," you whispered, unable to keep yourself upright and leaning dependently on Kasta.

"For what, my love?"

You smiled through your tears and pain, "For the love of a lifetime. I-I wish we had longer, too, because the time we had wasn't enough."

Aemond's jaw clenched as his tears would not stop; hearing you recall his words from months ago shattering his heart. Nodding, his lips pressed to your forehead, and with one last caress of your head and lingering promises of his love, he had to pull away. You grinned as you watched him, chuckling to yourself before coughing on your blood; letting it splatter uselessly across your lap while weakly holding your wound.

"Still with me, precious girl?" You asked Kasta in High Valyrian, who gave a low groan. You stiffly tried to sit up some, but only managed a half-shuffle. "Will you do something for me?" She purred. "L-Looks like neither of us are getting out of this, my gem... I-I need you to end it for me, my girl."

But she growled.

"Dracarys, Kasta," you sobbed through your pain. "Please, Kasta! Dracarys! Do not make me suffer, please, dracarys!"

But your dragon's head lowered to the bloody ground, belly and throat left slashed open from Vhagar, and as if in sync, you both breathed outward for a final time. Just as you came into this world with a bright, emerald green dragon egg, so you left this world with the soul of that very same dragon.

Exactly as it all started, it all ended.

Rumors swirled around the country regarding the demise of Rhaenyra's eldest child, Princess Y/N Velaryon, now Princess Y/N Targaryen - devoted and beloved wife of Prince Aemond. Some say she went mad with grief from losing her brothers and children, some say it was self-inflicted. But the thickest rumors reached Daemon's ears about how it was Vhagar and her own husband who killed the Jewel of Westeros and the Great Emerald.

Aemond could not deliver the final, fatal blow; leaving her there to bleed out from her wounds in a pool of Kasta's blood. Aemond refused to sit with the absolute, infinite knowledge that he killed his wife, and instead of manning up to help her from the pain he inflicted, he only turned away from her.

He left her.

He had prayed Kasta would end her suffering but rumors reached his own ears about how she was found - fully intact - in her dragon's cradle. Kasta's head was claimed for the Green's and sent to King's Landing for trophy-keeping, and years later, was one of the skulls Robert Baratheon smashed to dust during his Rebellion. Aemond did not know pain like this, and on Daemon's fourteenth day of waiting, Aemond arrived at Harrenhal. Both were enraged by their grief, both feeling the sting of loss...

Daemon, over his beloved step-daughter as his own seed, and Aemond, over his sweet wife; both mourning the same loss, but refusing to see eye-to-eye.

"Is it true?" Daemon demanded when Aemond faced him. "Is it true that you killed her? I deserve to know what became of my child."

"It was an accident," Aemond tried.

But Daemon snorted, "Then this is where it ends. You and me, nephew."

"To the death?" Aemond checked.

"To the death, Kin Slayer," Daemon growled - sending both men to mount their dragons and to the skies.

Yet, in the end, legend has it that neither survived. Historians know Aemond Targaryen died that day after discovering the bones of Vhagar in the lake's waters with her rider still chained to her saddle. The skull still had Dark Sister driven through an empty eye socket. Though, Caraxes was found dead on shore, her rider, Daemon, never was.

Nobody knows for sure what happened, but from your place in the Heavens, you watched with Aemond back in your arms as Nettles came to rescue your severely injured step-father. They stole away on Sheepstealer, and made a new life across the Narrow Sea - the life you and Aemond should have had, but fate never allowed.

But in the clouds, you were reunited with those you loved and lost; spending time with your eye on land, watching how the war ends as your husband's arm remained snug around you. When the end of the war finally reigned and (most) of your loved ones joined you in the Kingdom Above, you and Aemond stepped back from the clouds, and together, with your hands locked together, fell back into eternal rest.

🍒 fin

[ part one ]

[ alternate ending two: Sweetest Devotion ]

[ series masterlist ]

#aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd imagine #hotd x reader

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courtforshort15 · 1 year

Text

Chapter 3

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem reader

Word Count: 6,200

Summary: It's a Wednesday when the sky quite literally opens up above you. The Battle of New York rages around you, and the only thing that gets you through is the stranger standing next to you. Matthew Murdock is more than he seems, keeping you safe in a city that is literally crumbling around you, and even once the dust settles, his hand is the only thing you don't want to let go of.

Trigger warning: none really, just some references to violence, some ableism

Chapter Index

When you were younger, you'd spend a few weeks at your grandparents house during every summer break.

It was something they always did, taking in all five grandkids for two weeks, letting them run wild and celebrate the end of a successful school year, releasing all the pent up energy that came from nine months of sitting at desks and memorizing various facts and figures and historical dates. It was a win-win-win for all parties involved, really. Parents got to have peace, quiet, and alone time with their spouses; grandparents got a few weeks of spoiling their grandkids rotten; and kids got to spend time with cousins at the lakehouse.

You'd loved it, and it was always extremely difficult to leave, trading open, non-fenced back yards for a cookie-cutter house in the suburbs.

You were an only child, and existed smack dab in the middle of the five cousins with two older and two younger. And before the two older kids had reached their teen years and suddenly thought they were too cool for the younger ones, the five of you would spend countless hours playing hide-n-go seek across the property.

Katie, the oldest, was extremely smart and observant, always seeming to know exactly where each kid had gone when it was her turn to seek, a master in knowing her cousins well and their favorite places for hiding. The game always went fast when it was her turn, quickly and ruthlessly hunting down the younger kids with no sweat.

You were no different than the other kids, usually sticking to the same sorts of places; the types of places you could get in and out of easily, places that were difficult to see into. Dirt crusted on your fingertips and shoved under your fingernails as you hid under the porch, trusting the shadow to keep you hidden. Splinters forcing themselves into the palms of your hands from wrenching open the shed and squeezing yourself against the wood paneling inside, kneeling behind various boxes and tools.

The shadow was home to you in these instances, trusting it to keep you hidden from your cousins, but your habit was well known to all, so it had never lasted long.

Today, darkness was once again keeping you hidden, keeping you away as much as possible from those that would do you harm. Gone were the days of games with your cousins, replaced gradually with the presence of adulthood, and now viciously tossed aside for something that quite literally could keep you out of reach from your family for good. This time, there would be no laughter as Katie or another cousin pulled you from your spot, no giggles to tell you that you lost and it was your turn to seek, no snicker as they remind you you're too predictable.

No. No, not this time.

This time, your reluctant exit will be met with a sight you'll have nightmares about for weeks, and without the childish laughter or your grandmother's voice calling you in for dinner. For once, you're trapped in a sense of darkness that is suffocating. The irony doesn't escape you, being afraid of the dark next to a man who has no choice but to live in it.

The bathroom is eerie with nothing more than a glowing exit sign and a sliver of daylight creeping in from underneath the door, offering a pathetic attempt to provide you with any light. It's not nearly enough to give you a solid visual of the counter and stalls, but you suppose you're not in here for the scenery. It seems odd to you that such a tiny bathroom would even need an exit sign, though you certainly aren’t going to complain. Odder still is the fact that it’s even working when flipping up the light switch had done absolutely nothing.

You suppose you don’t get to be the one to decide what things will work and what won’t work during an alien invasion. It’s beyond your pay grade, apparently.

Both beside you and pressed against you, Matt pants heavily, though it's less from exertion and more from the adrenaline of almost dying, you're sure. His arm is wrapped around your shoulders tightly, and you're incredibly grateful that his strength is holding you up because you're not sure if the muscles in your legs would be able to support you with the way they're trembling. He drops your hand to brace it against the wall behind you, and he shifts so that he leans against it slightly.

He could easily release his hold on you, easily move you so that you're balanced against the wall instead of on him, but he doesn't. Instead, he’s somewhat bracketed you in, large frame angling you so that his back is to the door. Without you noticing, he’s once again placed himself so that he’ll take the full force of whatever could come at the pair of you. And once you’re aware of what he’s done, you move to shift away, not liking the idea of him being the one to take the pain first, but his grip tightens just enough to make it difficult to move.

You don't fight him on it, your frame trembling too hard to have any chance against him.

Matt lets out a loud exhale and leans forward to lay his forehead against the wall, resting it there while his lungs struggle to calm down. You're not doing much better, one of your hands reaching up to cling to his suit jacket, and the shudder that wracks through his body is only mirrored by the one that seethes through yours.

“Are you okay?” You ask quietly once you’ve caught your breath, chest still tighter than you would like, but unable to relax enough to let your breathing settle completely.

“I’m fine,” he whispers, and his voice in your ear is almost as close as it had been when he’d placed himself on top of you when the window had shattered. “Just some cuts, I think. Nothing major. You?”

Your head is nodding before you answer. “Same. My hands and knees are nicked pretty good, but I think that’s the worst of it.” You’re trying to ignore the stinging, you really are, but even in your fear and heightened adrenaline, your palms and knees hurt.

Matt finally pulls himself away and off of the wall and drops his arm from your shoulders, apparently having regained some of his composure, but he doesn’t step away from you, nor does he move enough to keep you from being shielded from the door. He still stands in front of you, though he’s straightened his spine, and somehow he seems both taller and broader than you had originally thought.

“Give me your hand,” he orders suddenly, brow furrowed from what you can see in the low light.

You can't help the confusion that flits across your face, or the way it colors your immediate question. “Why?”

“Just–just give me your left hand,” Matt says again, and though the tone is almost urgent, it’s not necessarily impatient. You consider him for just a moment, curious about why he’s asking, but you ultimately decide you have nothing to lose by placing your hand once again in his. He wastes no time in cradling your hand in his own left hand, and you can’t help but look down as he tentatively brushes a finger across your palm, directly over one of the cuts you’d sustained while clamoring to your feet in a mad rush to get to the bathroom. With a hiss, you try to yank your hand back, but he doesn’t let you, other hand tightening around your wrist.

“This one is going to need stitches,” he says quietly, fingers still running lightly around the cut in question. “It’s pretty deep.”

“How do you even know that?” You ask, hand throbbing in his, palm trying to instinctively curl in and push his fingers away. Matt finally lets go, allowing your hand to slowly pull away from him, and you immediately find yourself cradling it against your chest. Multiple parts of your body sting, including your other hand, but how could he possibly know it’s worse than the other cuts?

Matt’s head tilts in a question you're unsure he even wants to ask, but he does so anyway. “You said you trusted me, right? Did you mean it? Will you…trust me to keep you safe?”

You can’t help but frown at him. There’s not a single inch of your body that doesn’t want to keep clinging to him, to beg him to see this through with you, no matter where the horror of this Wednesday leads you. But the more you think about it, the more you come to understand that it’s not fair to put that on one person, to make your life their responsibility.

“Matt,” you begin slowly, eyes searching his face as best as you can in the limited lighting, this beautiful stranger who had placed your hand in his on that door step before immediately taking control of the situation in an effort to save you both. “That–that’s a lot to put on you. I can’t ask that of you, it’s…it’s not right.”

He’s shaking his head before you finish. “That’s not what I asked. Will you trust me?”

“I–”

“It’s a yes or no question, do you trust–”

“Yes.”

The bathroom is quiet for a moment after you finally answer his question to his satisfaction, even while the sounds you’d rather not think about continue to rage outside. The tile of the bathroom carries the word for just a moment longer, as if the word yes needs to be heard more than once for it to really settle in. It had only been one word, one single syllable, but for some reason, you think the word has never been more heavy, more resolute than anything else you’ve ever said in your life.

You can’t help but think that it’s tied you to the man in front of you more concretely than a rod of steel that's been welded to another, and it’s a tie that will last long after the dust of New York City has settled.

Matt inhales sharply as your lips finish forming the word, and his reaction is immediate. His shoulders square and stiffen, and he takes a sudden step around you, feet carrying him to about a yard away towards the counter you can faintly make out. Confused, you turn your body so that it still angles his, and you see the vague outline of him reaching for something. It’s only a split second before the sound of water trickling out of a facet fills the air. With a small gasp, you take a step towards him, hip bumping into the counter, suddenly desperate for a sip. You move to cup your hands to form some sort of makeshift cup, but the sharp sting in your left palm flares back to life.

His body twists towards yours, and a hand settles on your wrist. “Let me wash my hands, and then I’ll help you clean that cut out.” You wince, but you can’t really argue the idea of trying to clean the cut, especially if it needs stitches like he says. Nodding and sighing hesitantly, you listen as he washes his hands. When he’s done, his hand gently grasps your wrist, and so you reluctantly let your hand be led under the cool water.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers quietly when you hiss and jerk your hand back instinctively, but he doesn’t let go, just helps you hold your hand in place while the water runs over it. The smell of soap hits your nose before he adds it to your hand, and you turn your head away with another wince. He helps you clean your other hand, rubbing soap into the other smaller cuts, before he turns off the water.

You bring your left hand up to you for inspection, sighing when you see in the low light that it’s still bleeding sluggishly. He’s right, you think. It will need stitches.

Nose scrunching up slightly, you glance up at him. “I think…I think I need to wrap it. Can you help me tear a strip off of my shirt?”

“You can use my tie,” he answers instead, quickly removing it from around his neck, the fabric smoothly sliding against the collar of his shirt. A single second later, he’s reaching for your hand again, and you're able to catch a quick glimpse of the tie, barely noticing the blue with flashes of black, as he wraps it around your hand quickly. The fabric is too thick for him to tear, so he tucks the end of the tie underneath the layers. It’s bulky and feels strange, it doesn’t allow you to fold your hand in much, but you’re hopeful it’ll keep things from aggravating it further.

“Thanks,” you whisper, the sound barely traveling.

“You’re welcome.” Matt’s head shifts slightly, the sounds of outside momentarily drawing his attention. The sound startles you, too, having been focused on the man who had been working on your hand so tenderly, and you can’t help the way your heart speeds back up as you're reminded of the death and destruction that's wreaking havoc on the other side of the building's walls. Jumping slightly, you glance up at the man, seeking the face that's managed to bring you comfort in moments of terror, and it just so happens that the light from the exit sign catches the skin of his forehead pretty clearly. Eyes wide, you notice for the first time the large cut just past his hairline, one that has caused a trail of blood to trickle down the side of his face.

“Matt,” you say in rapidly rising concern. “Your head, it–”

“I know,” is all he says, his shoulders vaguely shrugging. “We can take care of it later.”

You shake your head quickly in disagreement. “Uh, no. Let’s take care of it now.”

“It’s not necess–”

“If you’re honestly about to tell me it’s not necessary when you have a giant gash on your head, then you can just find a way to deal with me cleaning it anyway,” you tell him, already moving to turn the water back on. A wad of paper towels are in your hand a second later, and you wet them before he even responds. When you turn back around, Matt’s still directly behind you, hands on his hips.

“Tilt your head down.”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m fi–”

You can’t help but snort, despite the situation. “I told you to tilt your head down, Matthew. I let you clean up my hand, and now it’s my turn to clean up your head.”

Instead of tilting his head down, he lifts up his chin and tosses his head back in something resembling defiance, sighing loudly . His shoulders are still stiff, every inch of body seeming untouchable, unwilling to accept help. Normally, you might have kept your distance from a man like this, someone who would fight you every step of the way to have someone take care of them. You’ve dated enough men who were closed off, men who pushed you away when they were hurt or scared, desperate to save face, as if experiencing such emotions made them less.

But this isn’t a man who seems afraid to accept help, but rather one who perhaps believes his pain wasn’t worth the trouble. So, respectfully and as calmly as you can, you take a step further into his space, thread your fingers in his hair as best you are able to, and pull his face down to yours.

He makes a sound of surprise in the back of his throat, but keeps his mouth shut otherwise. Without a word from either one of you, you maneuver your fingers around his glasses and carefully wipe the blood from his face with the wet paper towels, grabbing new ones and wetting them as needed, until his face is as clean as it can be. His face is still hardly lit up in the dark of the bathroom, but you can't help but notice the small winces he makes every time you get closer to the cut, and the tongue that darts out to wet his lips.

Frowning, you grab one last set of paper towels and press it gently to the large cut that stretches an inch or so just past his hairline on the left side of his face, causing hair to be sticky and matted down slightly. He hisses, but unlike you, he stands still while you clean it, and it only lasts a few seconds before you are done.

Outside, the isle of Manhattan continues to collect a large number of gashes and bruises and fatal hits to its infrastructure and population, but nothing is more important in that moment than the man whose face is just a foot from yours.

Eventually, you sigh and take a step back, throwing the bloodied paper towels in the trash can, and Matt straightens, face clear of the blood that had been violently decorating his fair skin.

“Uh…thank you,” he tells you haltingly, shifting somewhat awkwardly. He steps around you, once more settling his body between yours and the door, as if attempting to act as some sort of shield should anything come barging in, before turning back to you.

You shrug lightly, almost helplessly, wishing you could convey the thought that his pain, his body mattered, even as he all but offers himself to go first in the battle that is raging outside. “You did the same for me.”

“Yeah, but—”

Matt doesn’t get to finish his sentence, not when the building suddenly rumbles and shakes, the walls creaking and groaning loudly. The sound is as terrifying as the actual vibrating and trembling of the building, and it causes your heart to drop to the floor.

Once upon a time, you’d lived on the other side of the country in San Francisco. The apartment you’d tried to make home was small and in a gross part of town, but you’d done your best to make it work in a city where the cost of living was almost as bad as New York. You hadn’t stayed long, only a year or so, having moved there for a man you thought was worth the abrupt change at the time. It hadn’t worked out, for multiple reasons, and though you’d learned many lessons about what you wanted and deserved in a relationship, in this moment, you can't help but think that the best lesson you ever learned was what to do in an earthquake.

The collection of sinks to your right sits on top of a counter, but from what you can see in the dim lighting, it's one that doesn’t have anything underneath it, just a few twisting pipes and a stack of unopened paper towels. It’s not a great solution, the pair of you will have to make yourselves as small as possible, but it’s better than nothing should things really start to fall.

Matt had grabbed you and done his best to shield you from the glass, but this was something you perhaps had the leg up on, so you waste no time in yanking him forward and pushing him underneath the counter, making sure his head doesn’t knock against the stone. You’re not standing for much longer, shoving yourself beside him, covering your head with your sliced up hands.

You’re not quite sure how long the building shakes and rumbles, but then again, the rest of the terror-filled moments had seemed to last forever, though in reality it had only been seconds. Matt’s breathing is loud and harsh in your ear, his head not too far from yours, one hand covering his face, the other forcing you further against the wall. You want to struggle against him, want to tell him that he needs to worry about protecting himself, too, but you can’t quite get the words out.

The building lets out a raging groan, shaking the walls loud enough that you can hear books outside crashing to the ground, rattling the glass that is already littered across the floor. With a groan of your own, this one filled with pure terror, you smash your face into your hands as roughly as you can, wishing for nothing more than your death to be a quick one, one that knocks you out hard enough that you just don’t ever resurface from the dark.

It’s incredible how quickly your life flashes behind your eyelids, and you want to laugh at how cliché the whole thing is. Your mind sifts through memory after memory, brief pictures of family members and old friends, thoughts of every heartache and accomplishment. A lifetime of moments all summed into a three second montage, and it leaves you feeling…unfinished.

No, you won’t die here. You’re not done, you can’t be done.

Eyes flashing open, you reach for Matt’s hand, pulling it away from where he’s attempting to cover you as best as he can at the awkward angle, and instead grasp it tightly in yours. His grip is bruising as it locks on, he’s only indication that he’s perhaps as terrified as you. But his fear doesn’t stop him from offering a level of steadiness you hadn’t thought possible in this moment. It’s almost as if he takes the small bit of comfort and determination you had been trying to convey, and somehow manages to return it tenfold.

Earlier, you’d told yourself that you’d met men like him. Men who hold things in for the sake of appearances, not wanting to appear weak, doing their best to come across as impassible and in control.

But you’d been wrong, as he had already shown you. There are no men like Matthew Murdock, and you have a feeling you’ve only scratched his surface.

The shaking suddenly comes to an abrupt end, and you’re left reeling at the sudden quiet that spreads throughout the bookstore. The calm only lasts for a second, though, before the sounds of sirens and explosions creep back in from underneath the door, your moment of peace vanishing as swiftly as a strike of lightning.

The tension seems to drain from your body, but it doesn’t completely disappear. Your head rests against the wall, and you take in deep, gasping breaths, lungs still on edge but slowly regaining their ability to fill up completely rather than being all but frozen in your chest.

“I think…I think it might be over,” Matt says softly after a moment. “Something–something large landed on the building, but I don’t hear anything else.”

Nodding slightly, you squeeze his hand, acknowledging the quick reciprocal action with a small smile you forget he can’t see. “Do you think it’s safe for us to get up?”

Matt’s close enough to you that you can see the way he licks his lips as he pauses, some action he must do when deep in thought. He nods, or tries to seeing as how his head is all but crunched up next to a pipe, but the motion is enough for you to understand what he’s saying. With a shaking breath, you let go of his hand so that you can push a lock of hair behind your ear so that you can see better, and then steel your spine and force yourself to move.

Because you’re the one who sits slightly in front of Matt, the one who had pushed him underneath before clamoring in next to him, you need to get up first before he can join you. You find a way to get on your knees so that you can crawl out, doing your best to avoid putting pressure on your left hand. When your head is clear and runs no risk of banging against the counter, you awkwardly pull yourself to your feet and step to the side so that Matt can come out as well.

His exit from beneath the counter is much smoother than yours, untucking his long legs and standing a split second later, broad frame solid and bold even in the dark. You roll your head back and around, trying to shake out the stiffness that had set in from sitting so awkwardly, even though you hadn’t been underneath the counter for long. Matt does the same, rolling his shoulders as well, grimacing as he does so.

“You alright?” You ask as you fiddle with the hem of your shirt. It had ridden up uncomfortably when you’d dove underneath the sinks, causing the skin to scratch on something.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he replies with a loud sigh. “Hit my head against the wall at some point.”

You can’t help but wince. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” he says easily, still sounding slightly out of breath. “Thanks for pushing me under there. I’ve never…I wouldn’t have known–”

The huff of laughter that comes out is less from humor and more from a sense of shock that hasn’t left your body since the second you looked up and saw the sky being slashed open. “I lived in California for a small period of time. Small earthquakes are just a part of life over there.”

From what you can make out in the dark, his face appears to be one of incredulity. “That felt small?”

This time the laugh that comes out is a little more genuine. “Well…no. But you get used to knowing what to do when one happens, even if it’s small. The shaking of the building just…triggered something, I guess.”

“Gotcha,” is all he says in response, placing his hands on his hips. He takes a few more large deep breaths as if trying to orient himself. You move to take a step back, trying to give him the space you think he might need, just in case he needs a moment to reset himself without someone being so close to him. But before you can shift completely away, his hand snatches out and wraps itself around your wrist, halting your movement.

“Trashcan,” he says quickly in explanation, dropping your arm. “Careful, there’s a trashcan right behind you.”

Flushing, you step to the right and then take a step back. “Thanks.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you watch as he pulls himself together. He’s held it all in pretty well, this man who has somehow become your rock in this. But you see little nicks in his armor, little pieces of damaged steel decorating his form. You can only imagine what a man like him looks like when he falls apart, some sort of wilted frame that only sinks when no one else is looking. You can’t help but be immensely grateful for his strength, but there’s a part of you that wants to be around when he plummets, if for no other reason than to repay him in kind.

You find yourself leaning back against the tile next to the door in sheer exhaustion. “So…what next?”

Matt tilts his head. “As in, what should we do next?”

“I–yes,” you rely, hands twitching at your sides. You can only imagine what the rest of the bookstore looks like, can only imagine what the street directly outside looks like, and you can’t help but think that you’d happily wait inside the bathroom until emergency services came and got you.

But...what if they never did?

You try not to think about New York City being completely wiped out by whatever had come into the atmosphere from the gaping gash that had been ripped open over Stark’s tower. The whole time, you’ve been operating on the assumption that things would end, that Iron Man and god knows who else would be able to fix it. But what if they aren’t able to?

What if…this is just the beginning?

Matt exhales loudly and it pulls you out of your head. “Honestly?”

A garbled laugh gets caught in your throat. “No, I want you to lie to me.”

You’re still standing close enough to see the way his mouth twists into a slight smirk before it drops back into something more grave. “I think…I think we need to leave.”

You wish you could say you were surprised, but you’re really not. And while it certainly doesn’t mean you’re happy about it, you seek to understand his reasoning. "Why? Tell me why you think that. Why do you think we should–"

"I just don’t think it’s a good idea for us to stay here," he tells you, and his words are rushed and loud, as if trying to leave no room for argument. "I know what I said about us staying, but I really don’t think it's safe here. Not with the Hulk so nearby."

You can't help the way your eyes widen in alarm. The Hulk had been larger than life, bare feet digging into concrete and glass and God only knows what else on the street outside, muscles rippling in aggression, but he hadn't taken a single step towards you. "Matt, he was fighting them, he was on our side."

He runs an aggravated hand through his dark hair. His fingers catch on the tangled strands, which clearly makes him more irritated, and he drops his hand quickly. But you know that irritation is just a distant cousin of panic, and you can see it lurking on a face that is more expressive than he probably thinks. "Are you from New York?"

"No–"

"But did you hear about what happened in Harlem a few years ago?"

"I–yes."

"Then you know what he's like when he's out of control," he says, his voice suddenly taking on a tone that sounds a little breathless, as if trying to keep some sort of panic at bay. Matt begins pacing in the small bathroom, the dark form of him difficult to trace, though he manages his steps and turns expertly. "He wrecked entire city blocks. It doesn't matter who he was fighting, it was a disaster. Things are only bound to get worse here."

Shaking your head, you try to make sense of what he’s saying. You know what happened, know the destruction Hulk had left behind a few years ago, know the mess and disaster he’s likely causing right at this moment, even if it might not be intentional and might actually be in service to the people of New York. "He protected us. He made eye contact with me and didn't come towards us," you argued, unable to think of much else to say.

"It doesn't matter," he replies tensely as his hands settle on his hips, voice still sharp and pushing back against your objections as hard as he can. "Even if he’s going against them, trying to help people, he’s still in this part of town going after them. And if he’s in this part of town, it means we're still far too close to the action, and we need to leave before things get worse."

Your mind is taking too much time processing the words, and you struggle to breathe through the anxiety. Nails digging into the palm of your hands, or as best as they can with the tie wrapped around your left hand, you stand there quietly for a moment, brain sifting through the situation and doing your best to acknowledge the fear before forcing its way into some sort of clarity.

Yes. Yes…you did need to move.

Fuck.

The idea is terrifying, but so is staying here and doing nothing, just praying that the building won’t collapse on you from the weight of whatever has apparently landed on it.

"Okay," you say, finally relenting and taking a deep breath, nodding your head at the same time. "Yes, let's go. Where to?"

Matt stalls, and it's clear that he had been clearly expecting you to push back again, but the agreement causes him to pause briefly. He rubs at his temples in a sign of anxiety and frustration, though he stops his pacing altogether. You watch as he turns his attention to thinking about where to go, and you wrack your brain, too.

"North. Definitely north."

The words have no sooner left his mouth when your head snaps up, an idea occurring to you. "Do you know where the nearest subway station is? It might be a good place to get to. It might–it might offer some real shelter, something more solid than here. No glass like this."

Matt freezes, as if a light bulb goes off in his head. "That's uh…yes, that's a good idea. There's one on 50th. Just a few blocks north."

"Do you think we'll be sitting ducks down there?"

He seems to think about it, head tilting in consideration before he answers. "We're going to be sitting ducks anywhere. At least there we won't have to worry about anything collapsing or falling on us."

“Ok,” you say with a loud gulp. Your hands twitch at your sides, and your lungs inhale with a full, heavy breath, resigned to leaving the space that’s been a safe haven until now. “I think…I think that might be our best bet. What do you think?”

Matt’s nodding before you even finish speaking, his dark hair momentarily lighting up from the glow of the exit sign. “Yes, I think-I think that’s what we should do. It’s, what? Four blocks north. We should be…we should be able to make that.”

Your feet shuffle on the ground loudly, and you let out an equally loud groan as something else occurs to you, this one not as beneficial as having an idea of where to go. Instead, what’s occurred to you is quite detrimental, and your shoulders sag. His head tilts towards you in question as if he already knows you have something negative to say.

You blow out a loud breath. “Matt, I’m wearing heels.”

He gives a curt nod. “I know.”

How could he…? No matter. Not the time.

Your spine straightens even as you glance down at your feet, hating your shoe choice for the thousandth time that day. “I can’t–I can’t take them off because of glass and everything,” you say quietly. “But we need to move quickly and I don’t know if I’ll be able to in these fucking shoes.”

“But you were able to make it when you ran with me,” he tells you, sounding vaguely curious but mostly concerned. “And when you ran to the apartment stoop.”

“Yes,” you agree, because you had, and you even have the popped blisters and torn skin to prove it. “But that was only a block or so, and with you it was only across the street. But four blocks might be…difficult. It makes me nervous.”

“Ok,” he says with a sigh, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. His pause is extremely brief, his moment of quick contemplation over before you had realized it had even begun, and he suddenly steps into your space, raising his hands to rest on your shoulders. “We’re going to do the best we can. If you trip, or lose a shoe, we’ll figure it out.”

Your lips twist into a wry, self-deprecating grin. “I wouldn’t blame you if you left and saved yourself.”

The dark frames of his glasses seem to flash in the limited light of the bathroom, his face almost like stone in the way it leaves no room for argument. “You know I wouldn’t do that.”

Your eyes land over his shoulder in some sort of defiance, though you’re not exactly sure in defiance of what. Perhaps it's the idea that someone would find you worthy enough to save. “But still–”

“I’ve been with you and holding your hand since you walked up to me and grabbed it,” he says quietly, and despite the war raging outside, it’s all you can hear. “What makes you think I’d let go now?”

It's exactly what you need to hear, even though your heart can't help but ache again, realizing this man was willing to do whatever he could to help you, possibly to his own detriment. They…don't make men like this anymore.

You'd taken one look at him on that doorstep, eyeing the blind man with some sort of pity, thinking that his odds of survival would be smaller than everyone else's due to his lack of sight and lack of anyone offering to help. You'd dismissed him as a vulnerable person, labeled him as a liability even as you rushed towards him, certain that the right thing to do was help a man who seemed helpless.

But this man isn't a liability, he's your greatest strength, your greatest sense of safety on this random Wednesday, and nothing is going to keep you from linking your fate to his when he’s offering it.

Something settles across his face, some sort of understanding from your silence, and wordlessly he reaches for your hand, links his fingers in yours, and pulls you behind him as he opens up the door and steps into the light.

#matt murdock #daredevil #human disaster matt murdock #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fanfiction #daredevil x fem reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #daredevil fanfiction #avengers 2012 #battle of new york #marvel cinematic universe

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priestessame · 1 year

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A Gentleman's Gamble

💔🎯Diluc X Drunk! Reader

~ Valentines day special ..........🎀 𝒢𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝓃𝑒𝓊𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓁 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 🎀.............

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The dawn winery grew warm as the night approached. The summer moths buzzed around yellow flames, their erratic wings sending dancing shadows across the walls of the study. Diluc swatted one away before returning to his paperwork. Although Elzer did most of the accounting and dealings, in strange ways running through them brought him peace. Exactly the kind he needed before bed. It had become a routine for him now, the numbers preparing him for bed the way a bedtime story does to a child.

He brushed past the last page and placed his quill down with a sigh. There were a ton of things to do tomorrow, he had to meet jean with regards to the Ruins at Stormterror’s lair he had come across, and get the adventurers guild to send someone with the carts going to Liyue. The hillichurs were causing a riot, they seemed to be everywhere, the gulli plains, building towers too close to Monstad. They were even splattered across springvale in small groups, behaving more erratic than ever. A grimness settled over his features as he leaned back into the chair. It was no wonder the doing of the Abyss order. But couldn’t seem to figure out their next move. Although them scattering hillichurls was a clear attempt at distracting the knights and the guild from the actual attack, without any leads all he could do is wait in anticipation until the calamity actually struck.

The darkness of the room bore down on him as he pondered over it. Finally standing up, he shook his head trying to concentrate on the present task at hand. Sleeping.

Diluc lived his life in a prim systematic way. At a very early age, he had mastered the art of looking after himself, quite like the art of brewing wine. He had such command over himself that his mannerisms, the faintest of gestures he made towards people, were always intentional. It had gotten him quite a courtly reputation. He wasn’t unaware of all the women and men that swooned over him in Monstad, so he kept his distance always. Nothing but polite smiles and warm words, kind but formal. Ever since he had left the knights, he had made sure he was the one who pulled the reigns of his life. He had a calculated, rational recipe for not only his wine but also to life.

Unfortunately, for Diluc, no matter how rationally he tried to live his life, something erratic would always find a way to weasel in. Quite like the wagon that was striding towards dawn winery right now. Diluc blissfully unaware of the tornado hurling at him was changing out of his day clothes. He pulled the heavy jacket off and hung it on the rack, long fingers curling to loosen the tie around his neck.

As he unbuckled the straps on his waistcoat, a faint commotion rumbled downstairs. He brushed it off at once, probably Adelainde telling off someone. But then the rumble came again. This time louder, stubbornly making its presence known. As he listened, there was a sudden cluster of raised voices followed by a loud splintering noise. That was his cue to walk down, God if it was Kaeya again-

The commotion just grew louder, elusive notorious footsteps up the stairs followed by a gaggle of haphazard ones behind.

“Diluc~” a familiar voice called out. Diluc pulled the door to his chambers open, before the master of the house could completely understand the situation open and a blur of blue clothes crash-hugged into him. Diluc almost lost his foothold stumbling a few steps back.

Your skin was feverishly warm, and the faint smell of dandelion wine clung to your hair. You buried your face in his chest sighing contently. A sudden blush reddened his cheeks, he looked past you to see both Adelinde and Elzer who had apparently chased you up, for some explanation. Adelininde was very red in her face, eyes wide as if she had seen a ghost, Elzer more composed embarrassingly holding your shoes.

Adelinde looked aghast, “You-“ she gasped out, “You just dragged that-” mid sentence she turned eyes towards Diluc, “They just bought that- that thing with them, that godawful creature!”

Diluc frowned, what now?

There was a grumble of strange noises downstairs as if someone wanted its presence known. Diluc’s eyes widened as he realized just what it was.

“You bought a hillichurl?’

You pouted, “Venti passed out so quickly! I needed company” you said averting your eyes, “So I grabbed one.”

“You what!?”

You shuffled your feet like a toddler being told off, “It was walking around close to the city walls, so I just took it.”

Diluc was having a hard time wrapping his head around all of this. “How did you even get it inside city walls? Who let you drag it in the tavern?!” he demanded; he had his reservations against the Knights but this level of incompetency was an all-time low.

“Kaeya did!” you chirped. “He said it was hilarious and even offered one of Lisa’s dresses-

Diluc groaned internally, that bastard of course it was him. He shook his head, “But what in the world did you need Lisa’s dresses for?”

“Well-uh… It’s all dressed up Master Diluc.” Elzer explained through a cough. Blessed Archons. Diluc walked out of his chamber to the end of the corridor, You sheepishly following behind.

Sure enough, as he looked down, at the bottom of his staircase sat a very battered up hillichurl, dressed in a bright violet frock and a humongous witch hat.

Diluc pressed his fingers into his temple, trying to make sense of it all. You had gotten drunk at the tavern, potentially left the half-dead bard there, and wandered around in the dark to find a hillichurl to keep company. Then you had dressed it up as Lisa and sneaked it inside Monstad only to drag it to the tavern and get It drunk too. Kaeya encouraging all of this was the least of his worries right now.

“Elzer.” He said finally, “Please get the hillichurl out of here, just leave it outside Springvale and it’ll wander back to where ever it came from once it is… uh.. Sober.”

He turned to the head maid, “Bring a glass of lemon water to my chambers please Adelinde.”

“And you,” Diluc said finally looking at the storm that had unleashed itself at dawn winery. You pulled your doe eyes to meet him and batted your eyelashes innocently. He cupped your face, fingers squishing your cheeks, "let's get you sobered up."

"Luc" you tried again, "I don't want to be sobered up I want youuu~~~" you whined. Diluc felt himself sigh as his fingers trailed down your arms. “Drink the water.” He told you pulling away.

No matter how much he wanted to cuddle, he had to get your sorry ass sobered up first. You groaned at his words, but took the glass of water in your hands anyways. Plopping down on the bed stiffly, you frowned trying to move your shoulders. You were wearing a leather harness, laced up across your chest. All of a sudden, the garment felt too stuffy. You tugged at the laces, looking up at him.

“Take it off.”

Diluc felt his eyes widen, “p-pardon?”

“It's uncomfortable,” you said, Diluc spluttered, his face turning as red as his hair.

“Oh come on.” you urged, giving the blue ribbon that held it together with a sad tug, "I'll drink the water once it's off." you supplied. Diluc gave you a knowing look, crimson eyes seeing through your weak attempts at enticing him.

"Fine," He sighed giving in, he placed his hands on your torso pulling you close, "But only because I want you to be comfortable."

You grinned at him, "yay!" the haziness in your eyes and the red undertone against your skin proved to him that you were still intoxicated. His long fingers worked on the azure straps diligently, he could see how deep your blush went as your chest rose and fell. The inner was flimsy and made of linen, hardly covering anything. He leaned in for the final strap and you kissed his nose sweetly.

"hmm?" he contested, not pulling away as you continued babbling drunkenly, " Luc~ you're warm~".

You chuckled against him and Diluc felt himself melt, he snuck a quick kiss to your cheek and then another to the brow. You grinned against him cupping his face, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. Your fingers trailed up his neck, touching his ears lightly before burying them in his hair.

“Want to pull it free?” He asked, your eyes glistening warmly, “Can I?” He gave you a soft nod. Your fingers found the band that held his auburn locks together and you tugged it lightly easily pulling them free. They fell around his face like waves on a deep red ocean. You slung your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer to him. You felt his arms snake down, palms pressed flush against your back, closing the space between you two. Your mouth left soft kisses along his jaw, feeling the warmth of his blush through his skin. He laughed against your hair nuzzling into your warmth.

“You’re so pretty.” you murmured against him, teeth grazing at his skin teasingly. Diluc felt the warmth spread through his body, blood rushing to his core as your hands caressed down from his neck to the tonearms and over his torso. Diluc suppressed a groan, he hated how easily you could make him a flustered mesṣ. As your mouth found his, he let your existence consume him for that moment.

He hated alcohol, but he wanted to get drunk on the lingering taste of wine on your tongue. Your fingers danced down to the edge of his waistcoat giving it a meaningful tug.

Your eyes were glazed looking at him so hopefully, "come to bed~"

He hummed against your ear, “Yes,” he admitted, “But separately. You’re still drunk.”

You groaned in defeat, pouting like a toddler. You plopped down on his mattress arms crossed, “I hate you.” You said finally, embarrassed at how your advances had no effect. Diluc couldn’t help but laugh, he cupped your face, kissing your forehead hard, “After all, it's of no use if you can’t remember all the things I would do to you, is it?”

“So unfair.” You mumbled, there was really no breaking this gentleman, and you might just owe Kaeya a full lunch at good hunter for losing the bet.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ 0 ♥(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ 0 ♥(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ 0 ♥(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥

Reposted from my other account~

#diluc x you #diluc x reader #diluc fluff #diluc ragnvindr #diluc ragnivindr x you #diluc x gender neutral reader #genshin fluff

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ayosdesignz-blog · 9 months

Text

Hey so about fictional newyork?

All the mutants, mutates, freaks, geeks, sneaks, and geniuses seem to congregate this big small area without really overlaping all that much even when the characters are owned by the same company.

And that's just not fun enough.

Please keep in mind that I had no access to comics as a child. l have not had the opportunity yet to get my hands on comics now to gorge myself on and am MOST familiar with the old 80s/90s cartoons/shows and subsequent movies.

I am aware that the marvel movies are having heros occupy the same space in cinema. I'm aware of the spiderverse and even got to watch the 1st movie. I'm even aware that in more recent years (I think?) There was an official animated movie special that had Batman and the teenage mutant ninja turtles working together.

But I have yet to hear of any such thing for the TMNT meeting Spider-Man. And that's just wasted opportunity in my opinion.

So I wanted to ask my fellow fanfic readers (and fanfic writers if you see this)

Can ya recommend me a cool Spideypool fic that has the fantastic four, avengers, x -men acknowledged to exist and interact as friends. Team red being a thing and Spider-Man being one of the few to know the TMNT are real and works with them periodically as well as learned additional fighting skills from them with them helping to train his spidey sense some with their ninja skills. And Spidey in turn has 4 additional hero friends he can be himself with and they know who he is(who they gonna tell? Plus they keep distant surveillance on his loved ones for him) and were even introduced to his loved ones as a safety measure. Everyone likes Aunt May, Mikey especially likes the treats and trinkets she always has on hand to give them when they secretly visit her when Peter is too busy to so she isn't too lonely.

I basically wanna read a fic where Spider-Man grew into his heroism with 4 ninja turtle friends no one knew about. As an adult he managed to make his own punloving team in team red. Has worked to slowly introduce TMNT to other accepting allies/friends of his he thinks will mix well.

And while the xmen have a snooty gate keeping model of "mutates aren't real mutants" they're still nice in general and Kurt/Nightkrawler becomes their newest bestie while Master Splinter and Beast and the Thing are tea drinking buddies.

Deadpool meanwhile has been long gaming it to try to wife up Spidey even while accepting whatever he can get. And loses his shit once he's finally introduced to the TMNT because he'd hope they were real but didn't expect them to be for some reason. He's always wanting to spar with them for fun. And lightly flirts of course.

Team red and TMNT spar and the turtles use the spiderman and daredevil's senses as a game to increase stealth whereas the other 2 use it to increase their awareness. Deadpool tends to switch sides in the game.

#spideypool #just a thought #rambling #fanfic idea #i may draw some things out about this #i just like crossovers #vigilantes unite!#tmnt #spiderman should be friends with the ninja turtles!#i wants it

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normal-internet-user · 1 year

Note

Since we got the Bayverse turtles with a sibling reader , Could we possibly get the 2012 bros x Platonic! fem child Sibling reader? Perhaps the reader is a recently mutated Turtle that the turtles come across and adopt as their sibling?

EEEE YES!! I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS!

(P.s. (R/N) means random name!)

2012 BOYS WITH A MUTATED CHILD SIBLING READER

First is backstory! Headcanons are at the bottom!

....................................

The boys were on an intel mission. A new kraang base had made its way onto their raydar, and they needed to find out what they were up to.

The last thing they expected to find was a little mutated turtle. You were so small, it hurt them to think about how you got here.

"She's just like us guys!"

"Mikey, quiet down, you're scaring her." Leo scolded him.

The blue clad leader crouched down to your level, reaching out a comforting hand and speaking in the gentlest tone he could, "Hey there, we're gonna get you out of here ok?"

You sniffled, reaching out to take his hand with your tiny one. He picked you up as carefully as possible, doing his best to sooth away your tears.

"I can check her over for injuries when we get back." Donnie said, checking to make sure the coast was clear. He nodded to the others, and the four made their way home, with you falling asleep halfway.

They entered their home, and Donnie gently took you from Leo. The action woke you up, and you started to cry, not wanting to be taken away from Leo.

Donnie quickly passed you back to his brother, and the two went to the lab so Donnie could check you for any injuries.

Raph and Mikey went to get Splinter and alert him of the new arrival. They rejoined their brothers in the Lab, their father in tow.

Master Splinter spotted you and felt a wave of nostalgia hit him. You looked just like the boys when they were tots, he approached you, and you shyed away into Leo.

"Hello there, what is your name?"

You spoke quietly, your voice was soft and timid, "Subject 05."

Splinter glanced at his sons, and they all shrugged, Raph spoke up, "We found 'er at that kraang base. Guess that's what they called 'er."

Splinter looked back at you, a gentle smiling playing in his lips, "Well if you're going be staying here, you'll need a proper name."

You looked up at him with wide eyes, "I can... stay?"

He nodded, "You can. Now how about we find you a name, hm?"

You nodded eagerly, and the boys began to toss around ideas,

"How about (R/N)?" Donnie suggested,

Raph shook his head, "Nah, let's call 'er (R/N)."

You stuck out your tounge and shook your head, and Leo looked down at you, "You don't like that one?" you shook your head again, and he hummed, "Well how about, (R/N)?"

You shook your head once again, muttering, "Uh uh."

Mikey raised his arm up high, "I got it! Let's call her (Name)!"

You thought for a second, then nodded, "I like (Name)!"

Splinter chuckled, "Well then, (Name), let's get you settled in. Welcome home."

....................................

These boys' adore you.

Thats to be expected though,

You are the baby of the family, and they definitly treat you like it.

You were a bit clumsy the first few weeks of you being there,

So Leo made you walk around wearing knee pads, elbow pads, and a helmet untill you grew out of your two left feet.

When April and Casey met you,

April was instantly slain by how adorable you were, (Casey too, but c'mon, he ain't gonna admit that.)

Casey has experience with taking care of young kids, since he has a little sister, so he babysits you often.

You even have playdates with his sister,

Ya'll are besties!

Everyone tries not to say the k-word around you, (Kraang), since it's kinda a trigger for you.

They learned that quickly and adapted to avoiding the topic around you.

One of your favorite activities is having a tea party with your dad.

When the boys are out doing their ninja things, you always have tea time with Splinter.

He starts training you as soon as you're willing,

He makes sure to pace it so as not to overwhelm you, but you are really enthusiastic about your training.

You just wanna be an awsome ninja like your brothers.

If you ever can't sleep, you'll spend some time in Donnie's lab,

He's usually up really late, so you'll keep him company while he works,

You even have your beanbag chair next to his desk.

Raph takes you with him when he and Casey go tag buildings,

You get your own little corner to paint and everything.

It always makes you happy.

Mikey likes to read to you,

It's a nightly ritual that he tells you a bedtime story, and you can't sleep without one.

Sometimes they're actual stort books,

Other times he tells you all about some of their past adventures.

Some of them water downed of course, you are stull pretty young.

Leo loves to watch cartoons with you,

All kinds.

You guys have daily Space Heros marathons.

Even when you grow up.

You'll never say no to Leo when he asks if you want to watch Soace Heros.

April helps Donnie homeschool you.

You don't really like lessons, you think it's boring, but you sit through them without complaining because of how excited Donnie is to teach you stuff.

April is really just there to help you understand certain things while also making sure Donnie doesn't go overboard and try to teach you something like honors chemistry.

Obviously they have a lot of enemies,

So they do their best to keep you a secret from them.

Obviously the kraang will want their test subject back,

And there is no way in hell this family is letting that happen.

If anything ever happened the entire Hamato clan would burn down heaven and hell to get you back.

And that is not a threat.

It's a promise.

.........................................

All done! @gal-with-pastels I hope you enjoyed my friend!

#tmnt #tmnt x reader #x reader #leonardo x reader #raphael x reader #donnie x reader #leonardo x reader tmnt #mikey x reader tmnt 2012 #tmnt x reader platonic #platonic x reader #master splinter x child reader #child reader #tmnt x child reader

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plzcallmesa · 2 years

Text

DOLONIA ༄ [raph x reader]

ACT I

masterlist

[00/01]

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･''･*:.｡.. ｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

the reader as ‘the girl’

(〃ω〃)

“omg stop! i don’t have a crush on

him alright?!”

raphael hamato as ‘the hothead’

(｀_´)ゞ

“so you’re telling me you don’t feel your

stomach explode every time you look at

her?”

leonardo hamato as ‘the leader??’

（╹◡╹)

“just because you’re human it doesn’t mean

you aren’t one of us.”

michelangelo hamato as ‘the child’

(*≧∀≦*)

“dude you totally have a crush on her!”

donatello hamato as ‘the only brain cell’

(*´꒳`*)

“if i say that it’s not painfully obvious

are you finally gonna leave me alone?”

master splinter as ‘the wise rat’

( ˘ω˘ )

“all your life your brain kept telling you

that you didn’t belong here while your

heart was begging you to stay.”

april o’neil as ‘the ed sheeran’

(o_o)

“so you’re telling me that they aren’t a

couple?”

shredder as ‘the evil bastard’

ಠ_ಠ

“i need the girl alive, i don’t care about

the others,do what you have to do.”

hamato miwa as ‘the hot enemy’

(｡･ω･｡)

“if we weren’t fighting i would seriously

ask you out right now.”

and others characters as themselves.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･''･*:.｡.. ｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

[00/01]

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 3 months

Note

Hi there, I just stumbled upon your posts and I’m in love with the Sons of Leonardo one! 🤍 can you write more about Leo and his family, maybe about how his brothers get along with their nephews and niece? 💙💙💙

Plz and thank you!!

Love Of Uncles (Fluff)

Bayverse!Leonardo x reader

A/N: I most certainly can! Hope you didn’t wait too long💙 I’ve had this idea, that even when the guys get married and have children, they would still live together as a sort of collective, each with their own area/rooms where they, their partners and the kids sleep. With that being said, they see their uncles, aunts, grandpa and cousins everyday, making them pretty close💙

----------------

Warnings: Spelling💙

----------------

“Are you sure you got her?”, Leo asked in a worried tone, watching as Donatello hugged Valentina closely against him, the 2 year old happily resting her head against her uncle.

“I got it, Leo”, Donnie answered, leaning his head towards his niece, causing the young girl to giggle. “I have twins. I know how to take care of a child”.

“I know, I know”, Leo said with a sigh, the worry still clear in his eyes. “But if anything happens-”.

“Nothing is going to happen Leo”, you said, cutting your husband off. “Like Donnie said, he got her”.

Leo looked at you with an almost pained expression on his face. He had never been a big fan of leaving your kids behind in the lair, without at least one of you to look after them. Especially not while your youngest was still a toddler. In the two years that had made up Valentina’s life so far, Leo had gone up an extra step in his protectiveness, both him and your sons making sure that there was nothing that could harm her in the slightest.

You and Leo had finally decided to go spend some couple time alone in April and Casey’s cabin. It had been his brothers’ idea, seeing how having four kids at very different ages was starting to take a toll on you. Sure, you had 18 year old Romeo to help out, but with his new found freedom and enjoyment for the world above, you did not want to force him into staying in the lair and taking care of his siblings.

“Don’s right, Leo”, Mikey said, walking by carrying Luis and Gerardo under each arm, the 12 year old cousins laughing and having the time of their life, as 10 year old Ragnar followed behind, poking at their feet. “We got them, like we always do. Isn’t that right, Raph?”, Mikey called out for the turtle in red.

“Sure we do”, Raph said, watching with a proud smile as Joan and Marcello showed Minerva how to punch a punching bag, exactly the way he had taught them.

“I’m still not too comfortable with it”, Leo sighed, already imagining all the ways things could go wrong while he wasn’t there.

“Leonardo”, sounded Master Splinter’s voice from the entranced to the dojo, 16 year old Galileo and 18 year old Romeo’s heads poking out of the door as Splinter made his way over to his oldest son, making sure he did not step in Dorothy, Marie and Sunny’s little get together at the end of the staircase. “There’s no reason to be worried. You and (Y/N) can safely go on your trip while we look after the kids”.

“Not that we need any looking after”, Marcello called out from the other side of the lair. “Last time I checked, it was only Valentina that still wore a diaper”.

“Hey!”, Romeo yelled out from the dojo sliding doors, his attention directed at his younger brother. “Be nice!”

“I did nothing!”, Marcello yelled back, starting a loud argument between the two, yelling from each side of the room. Leo sighed loudly and rubbed the bridge of his beak. This was one of the many things he feared would happen.

“Romeo! Marcello!”, Splinter yelled with a stern voice, tapping his cane against the ground with a loud bang, causing your sons to cease their fighting. “No fighting!”

“Sorry, grandpa Splinter”, they both mumbled, looking sheepishly at their feet. You tried to hide your smile as Splinter turned to Leo, a smug smile on his snout. “I believe we got them under control”.

“Well”, Leo said reluctantly. “I guess you’re right…”

“Of course he’s right!”, you said, tossing your bag in your husband's direction, causing him to blink in surprise when he caught it. “Now, let’s go. We should have left 20 minutes ago!”, you continued, pushing him towards the exit of the lair, as he called out the last few reminders to his brothers.

“Donnie! Remember that Valentina has sensitive skin! No soaps with perfumes! Remember what I told you about her sleeping schedule! Mikey! No milk to Gerardo! He’s lactose intolerant!”

“I’ve known that for the last 12 years!”, Mikey called back with a big smile, enjoying the laughter of Luis, Gerado and Ragnar as they hung onto the back of his shell.

“Raph!”, Leo continued, almost playing tug of war with you in order to get him out of the door. “Remember Marcello’s bedtime! He gets grumpy when he doesn’t get his sleep!”

“Dad, I’m 15!”, Marcello yelled back.

“Yeah, but your sleep schedule is still worse than uncle Donnie’s!”, Leo said, causing Donnie’s children to snicker. “Oh! And dad!”, Leo continued, the old rat nodding. “Please make sure Romeo doesn’t get himself stuck in the dojo all night”.

Splinter chuckled as a blush crept up on Romeo’s cheeks. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure of it”.

“We’ll call when we get there!”, Leo called out, before you finally managed to pull the loud turtle out of the exit.

“No we won’t”, you retorted, turning your attention back towards your kids. “Be nice to your uncles while we’re gone, and your aunts when they get home from work. We’ll see you on Sunday. Love you all, bye!” And with those words you pushed Leo out of the lair, hurrying towards April and Casey's apartment, so you could borrow their car like they had promised you you could. That left your kids in the care of their uncles, and honestly, it was nowhere as bad as Leo had thought it would be. The only problem they stumbled upon was Valentina asking for you and Leo with the few words she had, followed by a few minutes of crying. However she was quickly comforted in the arms of her uncle, soon giggling and smiling all over again.

After a few hours, the brothers’ partners returned from work for the weekend, ready to enjoy it with their extended family. With their return, Mikey and his wife went into the kitchen to cook dinner, closely followed by Sunny, Luis, Gerardo and Ragnar, all while Raph was throwing a ball to Marcello and Joan, Mini was curled up beside her mother on the couch, watching television as she knitted, while Donnie and his wife was playing with Valentina and his daughters, and Romeo and Gali was training in the dojo with grandpa Splinter.

Once dinner was made and the table was set, the large family gathered to eat together. No matter how big your strange family got, it had always been a rule that the family ate together. Even though each brother may have a hallway, containing bedrooms for themselves and all of their children, the living area, kitchen and dining area was still common areas, where they all would spend time together.

It was a little strange not to have you and Leo at the dining table, but they managed, talking and making plans for the weekend. You and Leo’s kids would have so much fun, that they wouldn’t even notice that the two of you were gone, bringing you some much needed time to relax.

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another-tmnt-writer · 4 years

Text

You Fell From the Sky

Leonardo x Reader

Author: Admin Mo

Prompt: okay this'll sound real dumb bUT- this universe!reader meets bayverse boys? like maybe reader wakes up in the bayverse and is very aware about the turtles? i dunno it sounds confusing but maybe it's an interesting prompt?

Note: I love this concept. I’ve dipped my toes in the water before, but this time, I’m going all the way. Also, I know you didn’t specify a turtle, but I zoned it in on Leo. I can definitely write another if y’all want more because I’m obsessed with this idea. <3

Warnings: Some language…

Word Count: 1.9k

“Okay, guys, don’t crowd her. I’m sure she’s gonna be disoriented, and-”

“Donnie, is the angel alright? It must have hurt, falling from heaven.”

“Get outta the way, Mikey. Go wash the pizza off your hands.”

“Could we give her some room, please?”

The voices echoed around in your head, which was pounding painfully. You opened your eyes and everything was blurry. You were just about positive you were hallucinating, because when your vision finally started to come into focus, you were surrounded by four very tall, very familiar mutant turtles.

“No fucking way…” you murmured, looking up at each of them. They were even more detailed and lifelike than they were in the movies. Which was to say, very lifelike.

“Not the reaction I expected, but I’ll take it.” Mikey smiled, shifting to present himself to you. “The name’s Michelangelo, but the ladies call me—”

“Mikey, yeah, I know.” You cut him off and he gaped at you, his blue eyes wide.

“Are ya psychic or something?” Raph asked. You stared at him for a long second. His muscles were impossibly large, his eyes just as green as you thought they’d be.

“N-No, not exactly. I…well, I’m pretty sure I’m from an alternate universe. Or something.” You looked at Donnie, who was furiously taking notes and way taller than you expected him to be, and then to Leo, whose arms were crossed, his clear blue eyes analyzing everything you said. “Because where I come from, you guys are fictional.”

“Woah. I did not expect that.” Mikey said, looking at Raph for some sort of reaction from his older brother. “Bro, did you—”

“Shut up for like two seconds.” Raph snapped, his attention turning to you. “Can you say that one more time?”

“You guys are fictional. When I was growing up, I watched your cartoons, collected action figures, read your comics…This is unreal.”

“Comic books?” Donnie inquired.

“Cartoons?!” Mikey’s eyes widened.

You nodded.

“So…you know everything about us?” Leo asked, a twinkle of amusement working its way into his icy gaze. He wasn’t quite convinced yet, but he had to admit you were convincing at the very least.

“I mean, not really. Kind of. Maybe?” You shrugged. “I know you have a bonsai in your room.”

You didn’t think it was possible for them to blush, but after that comment, Leo proved you wrong, chuckling and rubbing the back of his neck.

“Just about everything then, yeah.”

“So what happened, Donnie? Why am I here?”

Donnie straightened up when you addressed him by name. “Uh, well, I was trying to figure that out, actually. We were out on patrol and there was a bright flash in the sky and you fell from it.”

“Leo caught you even though I called dibs.” Mikey pouted.

“You saved my life.” You gasped and looked up at Leo. “Thank you.”

“I couldn’t just let you fall, ma’am.”

“(Y/N).” You introduced. “My name is (Y/N).”

“Well, (Y/N), I hope ya like the smell of sewer.” Raph chuckled. “If not, you’ll get used to it.”

***

The turtles spent the rest of the day asking you lots of questions about your world and the representations of them that were in it. You told them that the universe they were in was closest to a series of movies by Michael Bay, which, Raph and Mikey found exciting given their love of the Transformers movies.

Leo didn’t say much, but he was always in the room, listening. When night came, Donnie was the first to leave the room, retreating to work in his lab. Then Leo went to his room to sharpen his swords and water his bonsai. Raph went to sleep next, and Mikey stayed up the latest, playing Mariokart with you until pretty close to dawn. You’d almost forgotten that the boys usually slept during the day.

When you were out alone in the living room, Leo came into the room, holding a large knitted blanket and a pillow, a tentative look on his face.

“Hey.” He approached you quietly. “I figured you’d need these. It gets kind of cold down here.”

“Thanks, Leo.” You tucked your hair behind your ear. “I really appreciate you guys letting me crash here.”

“Don’t mention it. It’s the least we could do.” He shook the blanket out and draped it over your legs. “If you need anything, my room is over there.” He pointed back towards where he’d come from.

“Thank you.” You smiled. “I’m sure Donnie will figure this all out soon enough and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Well, you’re welcome to stay for as long as that takes.” Leo smiled and then added, “Good night.”

“Night!”

Once he was gone, you laid down on the couch and stared up into the darkness for a little while, thinking about the events of the day. You were stranded in the Bayverse. And…well, actually, you weren’t all that upset about it.

***

When you opened your eyes the next morning, you half expected it to all have been a dream. I mean, that was the only logical explanation, right? Well, then you took a look around at your surroundings and realized that it was three in the afternoon and you were in the lair instead of your bedroom.

Once you stretched and got your bearings, you got up and walked to the kitchen, where Splinter was pouring tea from a teapot.

“And you must be the girl who fell from the sky.”

You had to stop and admire him for a second. Master Splinter, the boys’ dad, a wealth of endless support and wisdom. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t looked up to him when you were young. Hell, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t look up to him now when you needed advice.

“It’s an honor to meet you, sir.” You were shaking. “I’m not sure if the boys told you where I’m from…”

“They have, yes.” He nodded. “Donatello told me of the alternate universe you came from.”

“You helped me through so much when I was growing up. You all did. It’s really surreal being here.”

Splinter smiled and stroked his beard, that wise twinkle in his eyes. “I’m glad you found your way to us, child. We’ll make your stay here as easy as possible.”

“Thank you.”

“(Y/N), I made eggs.” Leonardo’s voice from behind you scared the hell out of you.

You jumped and turned around, laughing as your racing heart slowed back down to normal.

“Sorry. Do you like eggs?”

“I do, yeah.” You chuckled. “Thank you, Leo.”

“Of course. They’re on the stove.”

“There’s cheese on the counter!!” Mikey added, already sitting at the table. “I saved you a chair over here, angelcakes.”

You had to admit, hearing him say that in person did make your heart flutter a little bit. You put some eggs and toast (with jam, provided by Donatello) on a plate, sprinkled some shredded cheddar on top and settled into the seat Mikey had saved, conveniently located between the youngest brother and the leader in blue.

“So every day, you guys wake up this late?” You asked, still a little bewildered that breakfast was at three in the afternoon.

“That’s just the downside of living in the shadows.” Raph shrugged. “But it ain’t so bad.”

“Right, of course. It’s just different than what I’m used to is all.”

“So what do you do, normally? Like, in your world, I mean.” Donatello asked. He didn’t have his notebook on hand, but you could tell he was taking mental notes.

“Well, I’m a student. I’m in college. I read comics and watch movies, and sometimes I write in my free time.”

“Comics about us?” Mikey raised an eyebrow, smiling knowingly.

Your cheeks burned red and you laughed. “Maaaaaaybe.”

Leo let out a little sigh and shook his head. “That’s still so weird to me.”

“Let me tell you, that’s a two way street.” You chuckled. Even thinking about it was still almost too weird to comprehend. You pulled out your phone, which still worked, fortunately, and went through your photos, scrolling all the way back to Halloween. You held it up to show them. “My roommates and I were you guys for Halloween.”

“And you were Leader Boy, huh?” Raph pointed out. “Noted.”

“I mean, yeah.” You didn’t think your face could get any more red.

“Wait, Leo’s your favorite?” Mikey pouted. “Aww…”

“I don’t think it’s fair to pick favorites. I like all of you guys for different reasons.”

“It’s alright if you admit you had a crush on Leo.” Raph whispered, cupping a hand around his mouth.

“Alright, alright, enough of that. She’s our guest. We’re not gonna grill her. She just got here.” Leo stepped in, a faint blush on his cheeks. He wasn’t sure why, but he couldn’t get the picture of you in a blue mask with little foam katanas out of his head.

“Right, there’s a two week minimum before we get to grill her.” Donnie added, grinning as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Aww, how considerate.” You laughed.

The rest of breakfast was pretty uneventful. You finished eating and then went out to the living room and settled onto the couch. Luckily, your backpack had made the trip over with you, so you had your laptop and some of your homework. Not that you could get online and get in touch with people from your universe, but at least you could get some writing done if you wanted to.

Leo wandered out, his muscular arms crossed over his chest, a soft look in his eyes. He hovered behind you for a few seconds before finally speaking. “Hey.”

Unaware that he had been there, you jumped. “Jesus! You guys are quiet, holy fuck.”

“Sorry about that.” He laughed, carefully sitting on the opposite end of the couch, giving you space, but still sitting close enough to make your heart flutter the teeniest bit. “And, uh, I’m sorry about them earlier. Raph specifically. I’m sorry if he made you uncomfortable or—”

“No, it’s fine. Really,” you said. “But thank you for checking. I appreciate it.”

“Of course.” He was quiet for a few moments before he asked. “Do you believe in fate?”

“Until yesterday, I’m not sure I did. But there’s gotta be something like that out there for me to end up here of all places.”

“For the record, I’m glad you ended up here, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. His blue, blue eyes met yours. “Is it selfish if I say I wouldn’t mind if you stuck around for a while?”

“Is it selfish if I agree?” You replied, causing him to laugh.

“Glad we’re on the same page, then.”

“Me too.” You smiled and just spent a few long moments admiring him. The movies truly didn’t do him justice. Honestly, it was the truth: you wouldn’t mind sticking around for a while. For a long while…

Part 2

#leonardo #leonardo x reader #leo #leo x reader #leonardo imagine #tmnt #tmnt imagine #tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2014 #bayverse

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dinner-djarin · 3 years

Text

Until the Sun Rises

Part 1: Chosen or not

Anakin Skywalker x Jedi!reader

Notes: As much as I love Star Wars, I am not completely versed in how the Force works, so I may or may not have made some stuff up. Honestly I'm not really sure, but I tried not to make it too drastic. Also I made up a name for the readers Master (Master Setne). I hope it doesn't take anyone out of the fic. Also this fic is dedicated to @hellotherebonky. Happy Birthday! I hope you enjoy ;)

Word count: 2.9k

Rating: T

Summary: Growing up as a Jedi isn't all you wished it could be. You wonder if this path is the right one for you, that is until you meet a young Anakin Skywalker.

Warnings: Nothing I can think of immediately. There might be light swearing somewhere, but honestly it's pretty PG, being about the Jedi and all. Very Angsty. It's kinda self doubty and there's some negative thoughts about the readers own abilities and stuff (pls be kind to yourself)

The Jedi life is all you’ve ever known. But if you’re being honest with yourself, you aren’t quite convinced you’re cut out for it.

Sure, you want the galaxy to be safe and at peace. Sure, you understand that you have been blessed by the Maker; given the ability to use and understand The Force in a more intimate way than most. But every day that passes in the temple makes you wonder whether this life is the one you would choose for yourself, or if it just so happens to be the life you’ve ended up with.

Being a Padawan is no easy feat. You study day in and day out. You practice and you meditate, and you learn as much as you can, as fast as you can. Your Master has been a guiding lighting through your training, taming your desires and chaotic nature. But as much as you appreciate all they have done for you; they aren't the reason you stay.

There’s only one person who keeps you trapped in the life you wish you could leave. He’s the only true friend and family you feel like you’ve ever known. Even though Master Setne has been there for you through all your highs and lows, only Anakin Skywalker feels like home.

Your first few years at the temple felt so dark and clouded, but the day you met the young boy changed everything. His aura was warm and inviting, and it blended so beautifully with yours - his light blue the perfect complement to your vibrant orange.

You were acquainted quickly, and inseparable from that moment on. Your training was slightly slower than his, but still you made the point to work hard and stay close to him. Even as younglings, any time you could be together, you were. Later in life, Anakin would taunt you for this, saying you were always chasing after him, following him like a lost Loth-cat. But you knew in your heart that he never wanted to be without you. He felt protective over you. He liked knowing you were with him should anything go wrong, as if the boy could do anything to stop impending threats. It brought him joy and comfort to see your smile as you chased him down every hall of the temple.

Later on, however, your training would take you down slightly separate roads. Obi-wan insisted that Anakin’s training be practical and hands-on, something you wished desperately for. However, you were stuck at the temple, learning theory and force abilities, glued to holo-screens full of ancient texts, your brain overwhelmed and understimulated. You longed for the day you got to experience a fight; you craved danger and secretly wished for an outrageous calamity on a far-off planet where you could sweep in and save the day.

However, the days where Anakin joined your studies kept you hopeful. The stolen glances behind monitors and quiet laughter that arose from your persistent silly faces kept a smile plastered on your face for weeks. Any moment shared with Anakin filled your days and nights with a longing bliss; a dream of what life could be like when it was just the two of you, the rest of the world falling away. Every responsibility or dread of impending doom faded to a place you could not reach and did not care to look. Only he mattered. And you hoped - dreamed - that he felt the same for you.

You wondered if maybe when he was on assignment off world, facing unknown dangers and near-death experiences, if you were on his mind. If when he came back bloodied and bruised, he wished for you to greet him first, for you to comfort him at his side in the infirmary. Obviously, you were important to him, being one of the only other people willing to put up with his boyish arrogance, but still you feared you may not have brought him the same comfort that he did for you.

As you grew older, you were lucky to find your bedchambers right next door to those of Anakin’s, and even more lucky to know that your headboards fell against the same adjacent wall. The two of you spent countless nights reaching out through the force to feel each other's presence. A tease for what you could have, had your barrier disappear. As you tuned your skills, you were able to do more than feel each other's auras. Eventually, you lay awake night after night speaking to each other in a way most could never understand. It was more than words shared amongst friends. It was a swirling mix of emotions and images and fears and dreams, blended together intimately between the wall which kept your physical forms separate.

When you were teens - almost adults - you found ways to become more reckless. Sneaking out to roam the temple halls and explore to places previously forbidden. Finding your way to rooftop balconies of your own making and watching the stars of Coruscant’s sky. Anakin would list off the plethora of different systems he had been to, whereas you were only able to name a handful that you’d visited yourself. You followed his lead, as he yearned to push every boundary in his way. He had never been one to follow commands blindly, and it leaked into the life he shared with you. Your stolen moments were often a direct product of Anakin’s juvenile disregard for the Order’s attempt to control him.

One night, you were readying yourself for sleep when you heard your door quickly slide open and shut before you could even turn to observe it.

“What the-” you start to question as you turn to face the intruder.

“Your senses must be dulling, young Padawan” he starts with a whisper. “If you cannot sense my presence after so many years together.”

“First of all, Anakin, you’re a Padawan as well, so don’t even start that. And second, as much as I wish I could ignore your cocky presence in the Force, I tend not to expect anyone's presence when I’m about to go to sleep for the night.”

“Well, if you can only feel my presence when you are expecting it, you won't be a very efficient Knight, will you, little one?”

“Anakin, I swear. I’m only a year younger than you, please stop calling me that!” Every time he talks about how young you are, your heart splinters just a little. Every day you wished he saw you in a better light, saw you for the woman you almost were, instead of the child he first met. “And I would be a better Jedi if Master Setne actually believed in me. But no. I’m stuck here while you get to go wave your saber around every star system in the galaxy. I mean come on it’s not like you're so special. Hmm Mister ‘Chosen One’”

“Erg, I wish you’d stop that.” He grunted quietly.

“What? I mean Obi-wan believes it. His master believed it too. It’s not so crazy-”

“No. I wished you’d stop. Stop thinking of me like that.” His words pierce you like ice, a harsh grip at your throat. Stop thinking of me like that. His words brought an irrational wave of confusion to your thoughts. Every fear you’d known came bubbling to the surface in a moment, fearing he knew of your affection… and subsequently didn’t return it. “And I wish you didn’t think of yourself like that. You are talented, little one. You're brilliant and cunning. I’ve sparred with you enough to know that you would be able to hold your own out there.”

He moves to sit on your bed, although you remain frozen on the spot. Anakin gazes out of your floor-to-ceiling window, “I’m not better than you. I’m not who they want me to be. I’m not Chosen.” He whispers quietly, almost low enough that you wonder if he even intended for you to hear.

Slowly, your heartbeat evens out and you think you begin to breathe again. It's not your feelings of love that he despised, but your eagerness to view him as superior to you. The feeling in your fingertips and toes returns and it is enough to get you to move towards the window as well.

You move carefully to sit cross-legged beside him, and you join him in watching the bustle of Coruscant in silence. After several minutes of gazing at speeders pass by and store signs blink repeatedly you place your hand on his thigh and gently tilt your head to rest on his shoulder.

“I know you Anakin, arguably better than most, and you are talented. You’re amazing. There’s a reason you're out there keeping peace, while the rest of us barely get to leave the temple. You may just be the best Jedi of our age one day. Chosen or not.”

“I doubt that very much.” He spoke plainly, almost compulsory. Like he knew your words were true, but he had to deny them anyway. Anakin had always been self-assured. He never tried very hard but could somehow always tackle any difficult topic during training. Something that might take you a month to master took him mere minutes.

“Modesty doesn’t look good on you.” You note, as you take in the way his brow furrows and his lips scrunch into a frown. He always looked good, the damn jerk, but poking at his ego always came easy to you.

“I won’t lie to you,” He starts as he meets your examining gaze, and you dare to raise your brow, “You’d see right through me if I even tried,” he smiles, and you stifle a giggle as you listen closely to his next confession, “I do think I could be great. I notice how easy everything comes to me, how little work I have to put in, especially compared to you. Sometimes I even think Obi-wan is running out of things to teach me. He deals more in life lessons now than saber training. And I do wish to one day be on the council, maybe even lead it-”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream that far Anakin,” you cut him off, and you don't miss the worry that fills his face. Eager to ease him, you finish, “I doubt you’ll be able to outlive Master Yoda. 900 years he’s going on, if I’m correct? Good luck topping that.” And with a wink you see ease wash over him, with a huff of laughter barely escaping his nose.

“You’ve got me there, little one.” He says as he turns his stare back to the city. “Regardless, even though I know I could make it, I wonder if it’s truly the place for me.” He finishes. But in a second you whip your eyes around to meet his staring back at you.

“What are you talking about Anakin! You’re everything the council looks for. Brave, talented, brilliant, and even after all that, you care. You care about protecting the galaxy, keeping peace. You care about everyone around you. They should count themselves lucky to have you amongst their ranks. And besides…” You start to confess, but quickly lose momentum.

After a moment of quiet, Anakin presses you, “Besides what?”

“Anakin, if you don’t belong here… You have to because…”

“Little one?”

“If you don’t belong here, how can I?” You finally admit, both to him and yourself. You know it is foolish, but you’ve always thought of him as the ideal Jedi. Perfect in every way. Ready for battle, or negotiation. Wanting to save everyone with his kind heart. If he didn’t believe he fit here, how could you? How could anyone?

“Hey, don’t say that. You’re an amazing Jedi, well Jedi-in-training.” he corrects himself, “I just think sometimes I’m not made to sit and talk about issues. And I worry that when I have the freedom to be a fully-fledged Knight, I may not agree with the council. Even now I often wonder if their decisions are the best, or most efficient. They seem so detached from it all…” His eyes fall to his lap, and from only his profile you can see how worried he truly is about the matter.

“You’re right.” His eyes dart up to meet your own, that lost look beginning to melt in the presence of your agreement. “They do seem detached but isn’t that the way it's supposed to be. ‘No attachments’ and all that. If they - if we - attach ourselves to things, we cannot make educated decisions. We must trust in The Force for guidance. And since our Master’s have developed their connections fully, we must trust their decisions as they work through The Force.”

“Yes. You are right.” Anakin begins, a tone of disappointment lodged in his voice.

“But we must also trust ourselves,” you counter, “And know that our own connection to The Force might guide us differently from what the council suggests. If we can’t trust ourselves, we have no business being Jedi, in-training that is.” You finish, and you hope that Anakin has not lost hope in your words. He basically told you that he feels the same struggle that you do, but you were too ashamed to admit that. You wish to yourself that you could be like him. Brave and courageous. Daring and bold. Willing to bare himself to you so openly and knowing full-well what consequences may come. “Anakin,” your voice now only a whisper, and you make your way to hold his hand, “I hope you know that you do belong here. Even if you never make it on the council.” His eyes now full of confusion and hurt from your words, but you persist. “Even if you are the Chosen One... or not. All I know is what I’ve seen. And I have seen you become a strong, caring man. A man who does what he believes is right, no matter the consequences to himself. Even the things you neglect to tell me, I hear from the Temple gossip. I know how close to death you’ve been, for the sake of others. You’ve risked your life, even for your Master on occasion. I mean come on, Anakin. How could we not be lucky to have you here? One day you will do something incredible for the Jedi order, I know it. Even if you don’t think so, I know. I know you belong here, and I know you will be the best of us. So, if you don’t trust yourself, or your Master, or The Force... then trust me.”

The words tumbled from your tongue like an avalanche, unstoppable and devastating. The moment they left you, you wished for your Life Force to be sucked away on the spot. But Anakin just stared at you. He stared and you stared back. And if not for the noise of the upper levels of Coruscant, you might have thought you had been transported somewhere new; to a place where only you two existed. You could feel his body heat diffusing through his fingers to your frozen clutch, yet still your blood ran cold out of the fear for what might happen next.

“What will come of us when we are Knighted, little one?” He asked through an equally hushed tone. “What will I do without your constant guidance?”

“What will I do without you, Anakin? I already can’t stand being left here alone so often, watching you traverse the galaxy with Obi-wan. When you’re Knighted, which could very well be any day now, you’ll be gone for so much longer. And I’ll still be here.”

You barely manage to breathe in the presence of the suffocating silence that follows your words. But soon after, you hear Anakin's quiet unassured voice return. “I could take you with me?”

“Stop it, Anakin.” You playfully retort.

“I’m serious.” His voice becoming stronger in his conviction, “Once we are Knighted - the both of us - we can ask to be assigned together. It would be unwise for the council to deny how well we work together. You’d only have to wait until you face the trials, which I know won't be long either. You work hard enough, and Master Sente would be a fool to keep you locked up here much longer.” The dream of partnering with Anakin brings warmth back to your body, and you allow yourself a moment to indulge in the picture. You and Anakin defending each other, protecting each other. The long trips through hyperspace where you could strategize, and train together. You could spend every day and every night with each other. The dream is delectable.

But it is just that. A dream.

Not only would you need the approval of the council and need to wait until whenever your Master decided you were ready for the trials. But you also knew that new Knights were rarely assigned together. If anything, they were often stationed with their Master’s for months until it was assured they could handle any troubles on their own.

“It’s a nice idea,” you placate his wistful thinking, “I truly hope we get to see that day soon.” And with those words you decide the night must come to an end. You nudge Anakin's side and remark the hour, “Our Master’s will have us running drills for days if they catch us up so late past curfew.”

“Well then. Until the sun rises,” He says with a wink.

“And until the sun sets.” You finish as you watch your door slide shut between you and him.

~~~~~~~

Part 2

Thanks for reading!

There will be 3 parts to this story, so if you enjoyed, stay tuned!! Its gonna be tragic..

#anakin skywalker #anakin fluff #anakin x reader #anakin x you #anakin fic #star wars #clone wars #prequel era #young anakin #anakin angst #TCW #jedi #sith #fluff #angst

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gotnofucks · 4 years

Text

Congruence

Written for @holylulusworld 10k follows challenge!

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Reader, Loki x Reader

Trope: Love Triangle

Summary: Stephen and Loki want you. You are confused. Wong is an angsty person.

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: None? Strong language, I think. Fluff and bad English (not my first language)

A/N: This is my first time writing something like this so please bear with me. Also, I’m a sucker for happy endings so…yeah.

MASTERLIST

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Wong was losing his fucking mind. He was one more broken vase away from cursing in Vedic Sanskrit and spent every hour cursing Thor for sending his miscreant brother to live at the New York Sanctum. He could have gone to Hong Kong, or maybe London where he would have fit right in with that English accent. But no! He had to send him here in New York with Wong and Stephen and you.

You had been living at the sanctum for only two months when Thor literally dropped Loki here. Wong and Stephen had been sitting in the living room when the ceiling cracked open and someone fell from the sky with a resounding THUD. Loki had looked up from the floor with utter contempt in his face at his brother who landed solidly on his feet.

“Hey there, doctor!” Thor bellowed, patting Stephen roughly on the shoulder and gave Wong a bear hug.

The sorcerers had stared at the two Asgardians with absolute shock on their faces until Wong exploded.

“Can you please for fucks sake use the door like a normal person!? Every time you are here you break something! The ceiling for god’s sake! Do you have any idea how much time and effort it takes to repair that?”

Thor looked at the ceiling with no remorse while his brother dusted himself off.

“Can’t you just, you know, reverse time with the stone and fix it?” Thor asked, taking a seat without being offered one.

“What are you doing here? And why, if I may ask, is your brother here?” Stephen asked rolling his eyes. Thor made the occasional stop at the Sanctum from time to time just for the fun of it. Banner bet him 10 bucks it has a lot to do with Wong being recently single, Stephen disagrees and says its because their kitchen is always stocked with Pop Tarts.

“Ah, you can keep my brother” Thor said nonchalantly, stretching his legs out and being comfy in his chair.

“Excuse me? Who the hell do you think you are, trying to treat me like an object?” Loki spat.

Before Thor could retort, Stephen banged his hand on the table. “I have no plans to keep your brother, Odinson. Pray, take him and leave. And while you’re at it, put some money on the table for the ceiling. We may have magic, but we don’t use it to put splintered wood back together.”

“You must keep him doctor, for the good of the nine realms.” Thor said, raising his hands slightly in resignation.

“Have you started another war already?” Wong asked curiously, eyeing the God of Mischief who looked about ready to stab his brother.

“He hasn’t, yet. But I’m leaving Midgard for some time and Valkyrie doesn’t want him around. They will end up killing each other by the end of the week. He’s got magic, you can make use of him here. Hell, make him fix that ceiling.” Thor said.

Loki was seething at having been treated like a naughty child while the adults talked around him. They hadn’t let him utter a word in his defense and he doubted it would matter if they did hear him out. Whatever, he didn’t want to stay with Valkyrie either. Before Thor dragged him here, he’d switched all her alcohol with fruit juice. She would be spitting fire for days and he was safer here. And so, it was decided that Loki would stay at the sanctum until Thor returned. What he would do here remains to be seen. Stephen wasn’t pleased with the situation, but he’d rather Loki stay here than cause some other world ending event that would drag him and other Avengers out to clean up his mess later.

You were in the library when this weird turn of events was happening, so you hadn’t had the chance to meet Loki yet. You were a new recruit at the sanctum, chosen personally by Wong who felt they needed more than just two sorcerers to protect this place. Until then you were under training with both of them and were still getting your feel of this space. You had so far met no one other than your two mentors so you were rightfully surprised to stumble on man wearing green cape and eating your cereal in the kitchen. You stopped in your tracks and looked at him curiously while he did the same, chewing slowly.

“Y/n meet Loki. He’ll be staying with us for some time”, Wong said as ways of introduction. Wong adored you since he saw you in Kamartaj and had you brought here as soon as your preliminary training there was over. You were still very young, only in your 20s, so you brought with yourself a light and life that had previously been lacking in this sacred place. Ever since you came here, the sanctum had flower vases in almost every room and soft music could be heard at odd times. You didn’t take long to adjust to your life in New York and often forced both Stephen and Wong to eat something other than take out. You laughed and smiled and brought with yourself a woman’s touch to this dreary place. Wong wasn’t the only one affected. Stephen, who had initially been very against the idea of another sorcerer in the sanctum warmed up to you quick enough. So warm in fact that Wong could almost call it affection.

“Hi Loki, does your cape float too?” You asked and sat across him, pouring some cereal and milk into your bowl. Loki stopped eating and bent his head a little to the side, curious.

“It doesn’t.” He said at last.

“That sucks, I love flying cloaks. Stephen’s cloak – I call it Levi – loves to take me on rides. If your cape were a sentient too, maybe they could have been friends. Everyone should have friends, even clothes.”

Loki was looking at you with a small, amused smile.

“I can enchant it for a few hours; however, it won’t remain animated forever.” Loki said. He didn’t like talking to strangers, but you were so sweet, so unafraid of him that it pleased him. You had no awkwardness when you spoke, and no note of hatred in your voice, something that didn’t happen often in his conversations with people.

Your eyes brightened and you launched into a discussion about animation enchantments, something that the masters at Kamartaj had steered clear off. They were very adamant about how to use magic, and walking furniture was somewhere they drew the line. Loki’s magic was very different to yours and it fascinated you. This was how Stephen found you, deep in conversation with an amused Loki who looked at you softly. He scowled.

“What’s happening here?”, he asked, coming to stand behind you.

“Did you know it’s possible to morph your body in someone else’s completely? Solid illusions!”, you prattled on.

“Of course, I know, I just don’t use it.” Stephen said and took the seat beside you.

“You never said! You’ll teach me?” Your eyes were bright as you asked this, and it was with great restraint Stephen shook his head and said no. He found it difficult denying you anything and if he ever admitted it to himself, he would say he’s fond of you. Very fond.

Your face fell at his denial.

“You won’t teach me? Why?”

“Some magic is too advanced for you right now. We’ll build it up and maybe someday I’ll teach you, although I’m not fond of it. Some magic is just…silly.”

Loki was looking at your exchange with a small smirk and as you lowered your face in dejection, he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table and looked straight at you.

“I can teach you.” He said and watched your eyebrows raise before a small smile formed on them. You looked happy until you remembered your mentor sitting beside you and looked at him with a forlorn expression. Stephen’s hands clenched and he resisted the urge to mash Loki’s face in his cereal.

“Like hell you would! I’m her instructor and the only thing you’re doing is staying out of trouble.” Stephen said, one hand leaning over the back of your chair, a gesture not lost on Loki.

“Didn’t Thor say I could be of help here? Well, this is it. I could help teach Y/n and we can compare notes on our magic. Wouldn’t you like that, Y/n?” Loki asked you in a sweet voice and you nodded eagerly, eyes pleading with Stephen to agree. You looked so earnest, so willing to learn, that Stephen couldn’t find it in himself to say no. He wanted to, he wanted to shout that he will teach you all you needed to know and more, that he is someone you can rely on. But he simply said yes.

Throughout this whole conversation, Wong, who was busy cooking hadn’t said a thing but if the stiffness in his shoulders was to go by, he was not a happy man. He knew some shit was about to go down, and lord did he not want to be a part of it.

From that day, what happened in the Sanctum was something Wong could only call an over glorified dick-measuring contest between Stephen and Loki. They did all but whip their tools out and boink each other on the head with it.

It started from little things like teaching you something new and praising you about it. You loved to have your work being acknowledged and would blush a deep red at being praised. Loki had fumed for hours watching you and Stephen work and you giggling with a red face as Stephen told you what a good job you had done. In retaliation, Loki started teaching you enchantments and when you got them right, he would pat your hand and tell you that you were a good girl. That blush, and the glare he received from Stephen was a treat.

It didn’t stop with academics. The men started vying for your attention in the kitchen, each trying their hardest to win you over with more and more complicated dishes. Wong put his foot down when Loki made a Nutella sandwich that was a foot high and dripped with toasted marshmallows that took hours to scrub off. Stephen had laughed outrageously when Wong scolded Loki, telling him to clean up his mess and if he ever did something like this again, he’ll be using his toothbrush to clean the sanctum. Stephen stopped laughing however when Wong turned to him with a spatula in his hand. “And you! You’re banned from cooking too. I can’t go shopping every day to get you ingredients because you want to make Y/n pastries and pies and stupid Turkish delights three times a day. Out of my kitchen! Now!”

The antics continued, more often than naught resulting in skirmishes between the two men which in turn resulted in a lot of broken vases, furniture, and in some rare events, bones. They fought over who you spent more time with, smiled wider at, and laughed harder at. It drove Wong crazy, an unfortunate bystander to the playground tricks of two boys fighting over a toy. But you were more than a toy, that he could tell.

You weren’t oblivious to what was happening. You were young, not naïve and so you spent your days very amused. You didn’t mind this attention, far from it in fact. Two very handsome and powerful men, for reasons best known to them, were trying their best to impress you. It made you giddy and feel wanted, but also confused because while you weren’t in love with either of them, you didn’t think you’d be able to choose one when the time came for it. Surely, they can’t keep doing this forever and will one day give you the ultimatum to make a choice. You dreaded that day because with each passing day, with each sweet gesture and praise, with each hug lasting a little longer and each eye contact being a little hotter, you were reminded that with choosing one you would lose the other. That didn’t seem like the happy ending you wanted.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Loki was at his wit’s end and knee deep in books and ancient relics. He had scrounged every storeroom and tome trying to find what he wanted to no avail. His hair was disheveled from running his hands through it too many times and he wished you would braid it like you’d done a couple nights ago. What had begun simply as an amusing prank to show up Stephen Strange ended up being a true gamble in the game of love. He didn’t really expect to start liking you like this. Sure, you were different, and he acknowledged that fact within minutes of meeting you. But he didn’t know that he would seriously start considering his intentions towards you. At most he had hoped he would find a friend in you, but he didn’t just want to be a friend anymore. He wanted you with your tinkling laugh and ability to cast spells far above your level. He wanted to see you defend him against Thor and to tell you stories of Asgard as you took a walk through New Asgard by his side. He wanted you so bad and he’d be damned if that red cloak wearing second rate wizard took you from him.

“What in the world are you doing?” Wong asked as he entered Loki’s room to find it strewn with books and odd ornaments. Loki was sitting on the floor looking quite frustrated, and well, a little pathetic.

“I can’t find it. I’ve searched almost every book and every relic you have here. I can’t find it!” Loki moaned. Wong didn’t know what he was looking for, but he felt a small spark of pity for the god.

“What are you looking for?”

“Aladdin’s lamp”

There was a pregnant pause in the room.

“Excuse me?”

“Aladdin’s lamp. Y/n was talking about how Strange’s cloak – Levi as she calls it – would have loved having the flying carpet as his friend. And I asked her about this carpet, and she told me it belonged to the Genie who came out of Aladdin’s lamp when rubbed. I want that lamp so I can ask this Genie fellow to loan me his carpet”

It was a tough battle between laughing and patting the god on his head like a small child. Wong fought the impulse to do either and sat down on a chair after depositing the books on it on the table. “You won’t find it here”, he told Loki whose head shot up at this.

“Why not? Is it at some other sanctum? London?”

“It’s…nowhere.”, Wong said and raised a hand to stop Loki from interrupting. “Aladdin is a fictional story, so is the lamp and the genie and the carpet. Y/n loves reading about them and watching the movie adaptations. She likes to see how morals have interpreted magic.”

Loki’s mouth dropped open and for a moment he looked about ready to cry for having wasted so many hours searching for something that didn’t exist. Then, he miraculously started laughing.

“Norns! This woman drives me up a wall! She mentions one thing and I just want to do that for her. I’m not even mad at her or myself, just disappointed that I’ll have to search for something else to get her now. What the hell happened to me?”

Wong looked at a man who was very nearly, if not already in love with you. He didn’t like Loki very much, but he didn’t want this man to go through a heart break either. He would have to talk to you, soon.

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Stephen fancied himself a step ahead of Loki because he had known you a little bit longer, but if he was being honest, there wasn’t much to go by. His insecurities had a lot to do with that, for he believed you would prefer Loki, a handsome man over a scarred man like him. But you had never mentioned anything about his slightly trembling hands. You had taken to his life without a hitch and so seamlessly blended into a routine with him, Stephen felt like you had always been a part of his life. He couldn’t remember when you’d started helping him tie his robes, or necktie when the occasion called for it. He couldn’t remember when he’d started eating home cooked meals instead of takeout at the deli Wong preferred. One day he was living without you, and the other you had taken over every aspect of his life and made it ten times as beautiful. He didn’t know if he could go back to living life as he did before you, and he’d be damned if some green-bean god tried to take you away from him.

“I am going to regret asking this but what are you trying to do?”, Wong asked Stephen who was standing in the middle of his meditation room holding his cloak. Well, holding might not be the correct term. Dancing…with his cloak.

“I am teaching Levi how to waltz”, Stephen said and continued to guide the piece of fabric through the leg movements. Wong watched this with morbid fascination before sputtering incredulously.

“Why?”

“Y/n loves to waltz and as I don’t always have enough time to indulge her, I’m teaching my cloak how to do it so it can keep her company. You’ll do that won’t you, Levi?”

To Wong’s utter astonishment the cloak seemed to nod and was almost elegant in his movements. For a good few minutes Wong watched this scene before sighing. Smitten, both of them. Absolutely wrapped around your finger and most definitely on their way to fall in love. Stephen was his best friend and he looked so happy since you got here, it warmed Wong’s heart to finally see Stephen smile and be genuinely happy.

He really really needed to talk to you and ask you whom you planned to be with, if any of them at all. This is exactly the sort of drama Wong hated and he was sure no matter what you said, someone was going to get their heart broken.

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You were going to do it. You were going to do it today and tell them your decision because you couldn’t take it anymore. The hostility between Loki and Stephen was getting on your nerves and you couldn’t spend a minute in one’s company before being interrupted by the other. In the end, you just left them both, hence losing the joy of both their presence. And poor Wong. You could see him trying to summon courage for what you knew was going to be a very uncomfortable talk. The past few months Loki had lived here had been the best and worst months of your life. But now that things were starting to affect not just your friendship but also your academics (because both your instructors ended up attacking each other and spent two days in the sick bay), you needed to make a choice. So, you did what you did best and got to baking.

“It smells like Valhalla here, Y/n”, Loki said as he watched you work.

“Why won’t you let us see what you’re making?” Stephen asked, trying to look around you but you glared at him and he sat down again.

“Will you both for god’s sake ask the important question? Why the hell are we wearing these outfits?” Wong grumbled.

You looked at the three men seated around the table in Harry Potter robes, each holding a handmade wand and pointy hat you’d forced them to wear. They had protested and whined (I’m not a witch for Norn’s sake!) but had given in easier than you thought. You really did have them wrapped around your little finger.

“Could you wait for like two minutes? This needs to be perfect!” You chirped and got back to your tray.

“I’m too old to be doing cosplay”, Wong said with a huff.

“Shut up”

It took you another ten minutes to perfect your stuff, a tray lined with identical muffins with Hogwarts logo and the sorting hat on top. Picking it up you sat it down on the table before the three men and then sat down yourself.

“These are the sorting muffins but with a twist”, you declared. Loki looked on with interest. He’d watched and read all the Harry Potter books and movies at your behest.

“I hate this, and I hate twists. The last time I saw a twist was when this one-”, Wong pointed at Stephen “-annoyed a cosmic being into accepting defeat. I still get nightmares about that”

“Oh, don’t be so dull Wong. These are compatibility muffins. We don’t need sorting, we’re already sorted. You are obviously a Ravenclaw because you’re the librarian, Stephen is of course Gryffindor because Levi is red, similarly Loki is Slytherin because that cape is definitely a Slytherin green. And I am a Hufflepuff because I am the best.” Your speech did not have the jubilant response you expected, and you crossed your arm with a deep disappointed sigh. Stereotypical as your sorting had been you expected something more than blank faces.

“So, what are these muffins for?”, Stephen asked.

“We all take one and see what color filling we find. The person whose house we get, that’s the person we’re most compatible with.” Now you had your expected response. Both Loki and Stephen sat at attention eyeing the muffins critically, trying their hardest to guess which one had the yellow icing in the middle. Beside them Wong groaned and facepalmed. Of all the ways for you to choose a partner, trust you to play a game of luck involving a children’s fantasy book. He was regretting putting that talk off now.

“So, if I get blue…” Loki trailed off

“Yeah, you and Wong can go make out in the corner” You answered. “But of course, Wong must get green too you know, or you’d have to find another Ravenclaw. Consent is important after all”

It was the dumbest shit you had ever come up with. You knew it, everyone else knew it. But if this was how it was supposed to go so be it. Everyone ignored Wong’s complain of ruining a good desert and set out to choose their most perfect muffin. They were all identical to the last crumb, and it took an annoyingly large amount of time for both your suitors to choose their pieces. After they had deliberated and finally chosen their muffins, you casually selected one and motioned for Wong to do the same.

Finally, with muffins in all your hands and eyes full of anticipation and trepidation, you all took a bite.

Stephen’s face broke out in a grin as he showed off his bitten muffin with a yellow center. That smile however turned into a frown as Loki showed a yellow centered muffin too. Wong, feeling utterly stupid showed his red centered muffin and then all eyes turned to you. With a straight face you turned your muffin and-

“Motherfucker!”, Wong cried and with his head in his hands began laughing and crying simultaneously. Loki and Stephen looked stunned, staring open mouthed at the two-colored center of your muffin. Red and green.

“What?” They both said.

“I can’t choose. I just can’t. That’s not who I am.” You said and looked them both straight in the eye, hoping they’ll see reason in what you’re saying. “How do you choose between two people who love so much? You can’t quantify that feeling, you can never tell if its greater for someone or not. Call me a coward or a bitch, I don’t care. This is the truth. I love you Stephen. I love all your music references and stupid movies you make me watch. And I love you Loki, with that English accent and your horrible cooking. I love you both and I am here if you’ll have me. This is what I can offer you, because I sure as hell can’t break either of yours heart.”

You didn’t know what was going to happen. You hadn’t exactly meant to drop the L-word, but well, it was true. You couldn’t break their hearts, so you put the ball in their court and allowed them to break yours instead. It was much better than going through with the pain of choosing one of them, especially when your heart beats simultaneously for two. You braced yourself for rejection, because sharing a person you love is never easy. But if you have to share it with a person you hate, well, its almost impossible.

Loki and Stephen looked at you and then at each other. They seemed to be having some sort of wordless conversation and the longer they remained silent, the more you felt like you’d made a mistake and lost them both. Finally, they nodded at each other and then looked at you.

“I hate this second-rate wizard”

“I hate you too, green puny god”

“But we love you more.”

You blinked once and then again. It took a minute to register what they said but then you were flying and the next second you were in their arms, one man at your front while the other at your back. Sobs whacked your small body as the tension of past few months left you in your lovers’ embrace and you could finally breath easy. You pulled away and looked up with a tear stained face at Loki and Stephen, a watery smile that they reciprocated.

“So, we can finally have sex now after months of violent foreplay”, you remarked making them both laugh and pull you in their arms again. This was it. This was your safe space, your heaven.

Wong was forgotten as the three embraced and he was as baffled as he had ever been. Only you could have pulled off something so crazy. He was so glad he almost joined the group hug himself. No more broken furniture, no more shouting and no more messy kitchens. Life could go back to normal. As soon as he said that thunder rumbled outside and the ceiling cracked, depositing Thor in front of them wearing his armor and red cape.

“What’s happening here?” He boomed, looking around as if he hasn’t just vandalized their home again.

“You’re such a Gryffindor!” You cried, still delirious with joy and hugged Thor who had till now never met you. “I need to shave my whole body!” And saying this you ran away leaving the men staring at your back.

“Who’s that? And what’s a Gryffindor?” Thor asked, sitting at the kitchen table, and stretching his legs. He spotted the muffins and picked one up, taking a huge chunk out. It was blue from within. Both Loki and Stephen turned to look at a red-faced Wong who was cursing in Sanskrit.

“Looks like Banner was right. I owe him 10 bucks”, Stephen laughed.

#lulu's 10k follower challenge #stephen strange x reader #loki x reader #stephen x reader #dr strange x reader #love triangle #loki x you #stephen strange x you #stephen x reader x loki

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maxineswritingcenter · 3 years

Text

Bray Road - Fox Mulder x non binary!reader part 6

Fic Drop 2021

Mulder just finished speaking with the Sheriff when he spotted his partner. (Y/N) looked so tired. They were holding their head in their hands and had been like that ever since the boys in blue zipped up the body bags for Jason, his mother, and the other patient that had been attacked. He walked to them slowly and placed a hand on their shoulder.

“You alright?” He asked. (Y/N) took a deep breath and looked up.

“I don’t know. I know everything that happened was real, but it feels...I never thought that I would experience that again.” They shrugged, “On the bright side, the cops believed my story this time.”

Mulder smiled a little and nodded towards the car, “C’mon, let’s head back to the motel.” They stood and the two began walking towards the rental car.

“What about Winterfield?”

“Cops are going to search the office now to find evidence of the albuterol and anything related to the DEA. The courthouse is going to have a search warrant by the morning.”

“Mulder.” They said as Mulder started opening his door, “The full moon is tomorrow.”

He paused for a moment and looked up in the dark sky and saw the moon was almost full. He looked back at his partner, “We’ll get him. I promise.”

The next morning, both agents made their way to the pediatrician’s office where there was already a search in place. They met with the sheriff as he was walking out.

“Agents,” He greeted them, “We found some research regarding the albuterol in a safe in the crawl space.” He handed some of the paper work to (Y/N). They looked them over.

“It’s like the scrawling of a mad man.” The sheriff said, "Talking about rituals and turning the weak into warriors. As far as we know, there are two other kids in the reports. Both of which were killed in the last attack. According to their parents, they only used their inhalers for emergencies or not at all.”

“So the DEA was never able to take hold in their systems.” Mulder concluded, "That also means that Winterfield was trying to make more of him."

"That seems to be the case," The sheriff looked back at (Y/N), who was still reading, their face paler than before. The writings from when they were a child were disturbing, describing their body in great detail and how they were perfect to create the master race of lycanthropes.

"We suspect that he's in hiding, but we believe that he's going to come back for you, Agent (Y/L/N)." They looked up at the sheriff's words.

"What?" Their heart dropped.

"We would like to place you under house arrest at your motel until we can apprehend Winterfield. You will be with the best big game hunter in the area, as well as two deputies." The sheriff motioned to the large camo wrapped pickup truck in the other end of the parking lot.

"I-...Right. of course." (Y/N) looked down at the ground. Their fingers gripping the paperwork.

Mulder took notice to their hesitation, "Sheriff, can you give us a minute?" The sheriff nodded and went to speak with the hunter in the truck.

"(Y/L/N), what is it?"

They finally looked up from the papers to Mulder. He seemed genuinely concerned about them. There was a calming sense about him that made them want to relax, but, in this situation, it was nearly impossible.

"I understand why I need to be under lock and key, I do. But I don't feel right about not going after him too." They felt tears burn at their eyes. They were so emotionally exhausted after years of fear just culminating to this moment and they wouldn't get the resolve they wanted.

"Is this about your parents?" He asked.

They glanced at this eyes again, then stared back at his tie, "Partially."

"Aw, you're not worried about me, are ya?" He chuckled.

They met his eyes again, so green and full of determination. It's what (Y/N) liked about him. Fox Mulder may have been known around the bureau as Spooky Mulder, but no one saw the passion. All they saw were the Xfiles. And (Y/N) thought Mulder liked to keep it that way. He had been ridiculed his entire career. But he believed the weird, he believed the strange.

"Skinner didn't assign you as my partner," They blurted out without thinking much. But the fuel was already in the fire, they had to elaborate, "I made up the case file. I kept it secret from my friends at the office because I didn't want them to treat me like I was a joke. I took the case to Skinner and asked to be your partner. I knew you would take it seriously. I knew you would believe me." (Y/N) placed a hand on his arm and smiled weakly, "Please be careful. I don't want to lose anyone else." Before Mulder could speak, he watched (Y/L/N) make their way to the camo truck to speak with the big game hunter and the sheriff.

At the motel, they had been given a box of evidence from Winterfield's home to look through. The big game hunter, Rodger, was in the corner of the room facing the door, cleaning the silver bullets he had been given to him from the local jeweler in town. He was an interesting looking guy, the was tall and lean. But his hair was styled so one side of his head was shaved to the skin, 3 long pink scars ran from his crown to his temple.

He noticed their staring and nodded, "Bear."

"Excuse me?"

He pointed to the scars, "Grizzly in Alberta. Probably stood about twelve feet tall. Smacked me right here but I put three slugs between it's eyes. So I can handle your werewolf just fine." He loaded to shells into his shotgun.

"Bears act on instinct. When they feel their family or their territory is threatened they attack. This werewolf thinks just as well as he does as a human." They looked out the window and saw the sun lower in the sky, making their stomach feel like there was a sack of rocks pulling them down.

"You have nothing to worry about, uh...what are your uhh..."

"It's Agent."

The search in the woods around Winterfield's house wasn't showing any sign that he had been there recently. But what they did find was a body. In the basement of his home they found a decaying body shackled to the wall, almost mummified. But the anatomy was inhuman.

Mulder looked was looking over a map of the area that they had already searched, needing to use a flashlight now that darkness was setting in. He looked up when he saw the coroner, Dr. Sherman, making her way towards him and taking her gloves off.

"I've seen a lot of weird things, but nothing as crazy as that." She said.

"How so?"

"Well, when the guy died his bones had grown so much that they were splintering. His teeth were so large they cracked his jawbone. He died in a lot of pain." She said.

"Any similarities to the Mulligan boy?" The sheriff, who had walked up behind Mulder asked.

"Sort of. There were signs of the splintering and the cracks in the jaw but they had healed almost instantaneously. But I'm sure when the lab comes back with the results, they'll show DEA like you said, agent Mulder."

"Any luck?" He turned back to the sheriff.

"None. The dogs can't pick up a damn thing. And the tracks we saw lead off into the woods disappeared about a mile in."

Before Mulder could speak, his mobile phone started going off in his pocket.

"Excuse me," He said, stepping away from the group and standing by his car before answering, "Mulder."

"So we found some info on Winterfield." Frohike began, "Or lack of info."

"I couldn't find any family history on him. That is, until I found these articles from the sixties." Byers said, "His name was Lyle Montgomery. And when he was fourteen he went missing for a month in northern Michigan and when he was found, he was covered in blood but completely unharmed."

"There's another news article a month later from the same area saying that an entire family but one was mauled by a bear. The survivor was relocated, but we can't tell where because the adoption was closed." Langley chimed in, "But it was around the same time that we found the yearbook for Elkhorn high school showing their star quarterback."

"Winterfield." Mulder answered, "Thanks guys."

"You got it, Gunmen out." Frohike signed off and the line went dead.

As Mulder walked back to the group his phone rang again, he answered, "Mulder."

"Hey Fox, I think that uh we're not gonna find this guy. He outsmarted us." (Y/L/N) said.

"When did we start on a first name basis, (Y/N)? And it's not over, we're gonna find him." He said, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion at his partner's use of his first name. Not even Scully called him by his first name.

"No, I think I'm just gonna go home ."

"We can't go now. What happened to you wanting to finally end this? To move on from all this?" He was closer to the sheriff and the coroner now, who gave him confused looks as well.

"Fox, I need to go back home." They said again, more sternly this time.

Suddenly, his eyes widened, "(Y/L/N), is he there?"

"Yeah, I just need to hurry up and get home." There voice shook then, "I've decided to leave the bureau and just go home." They took a deep breath, sounding a little choked up.

"Goodbye, Fox." The line went dead.

"We need to get to the motel right now, he's got (Y/L/N)." Mulder had barely gotten the phone back in his pocket before running with the sheriff to his truck and leading the department towards the motel.

(Y/N) hung up the phone, a shaky hand setting it back down on the receiver. They avoided looking in the corner of the room where the majority of Rodger was still in the corner. They looked back at Winterfield. His hands were larger than usual and covered in dark hair. His eyes glowed red. He was spattered in blood from the deputies that he been outside and the big game hunter.

"You know he doesn't believe me." They said.

"Oh I know." There was a gravel to his voice that made it sound more animal, "But he's gotta write something when the FBI starts asking where you are." He grabbed their arm with his massive hand and began dragging them out of the room through the broken doorway.

"Wait!" They shouted, "Let me grab my bag. It'll be more believable for the crime scene photos."

"Fine," Winterfield let go, "Hurry up." He seemed on edge, turning his head from side to side as if he could hear something coming. They went to the side of the bed where their bag laid, there was blood from the hunter on it. Out of the corner of their eye, they saw the silver bullets.

Winterfield began angry, "Come on!" He grabbed them by the back of their neck.

"My bag!"

"Screw the bag!" He growled, pulling them outside. In the distance, they both saw the red and blue lights flashing and the sirens screaming the distance.

The cars screeched to a stop, the entire sheriff's department pointing their guns. Mulder called to the others, "Don't shoot, he's got a hostage!"

Then Winterfield seemed to shift before his very eyes, growing a long snout and large animal like arms and legs, all covered in thick dark hair. Still standing on his hind legs, he grabbed (Y/N) by their middle and took off into the woods near the motel.

"MULDER!" They called back, their voice fading into the darkness.

"(Y/L/N)!" He called back, leading the department and the canine unit into the woods after Winterfield.

"Mulder!" Their voice was farther away now.

"(Y/L/N)!" He stopped when he no longer saw tracks, looking around for any signs, "(Y/L/N)!"

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