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tender-rosiey · 9 months

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mourn and want — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: angst version of gojo coming back so don’t say I didn’t warn y’a; also him saying my wife makes me giggle like HEHEEHE

satoru’s vision is blurry. he can’t see anyone except kenjaku and sukuna, though his thoughts immediately drift to you.

he can feel your cursed energy somewhere, but it’s so faint. it worries him so he quickly teleports to shoko and his students. his eyes strain as they frantically search for you, “where is y/n?”

most of them stay silent and he immediately jumps to the worst conclusion, but shoko doesn’t let him dwell on it for too long.

she lets out a sigh and it’s followed by a mutter, “follow me.”

she starts walking towards an abandoned building, probably a hospital, and satoru wordlessly walks after her. their footsteps echo throughout the deserted hallways, along with the sounds of water droplets hitting the ground every few seconds.

they finally arrive at a room and its door is noticeably cleaner than the rest. satoru speaks up, for the first time since they started walking, “is she here?”

shoko nods, and her face is solemn, “yeah, but…” she looks away from the moment, “she won’t make it. she will probably die in an hour or something.”

“can’t you do something? anything?”

“satoru, I tried, but whoever attacked her did irreversible damage,” she takes a deep breath, “the healing won’t even work so—I suggest you talk to her and get your moments. she has been asking for you ever she came out of that attack.”

with nothing else to add, shoko left, but not without patting satoru’s shoulder lightly.

he hums quietly then his hand reaches for the doorknob. he takes a deep breath and braces himself for what he will see. satoru is no stranger to death. in fact, he met it personally.

for some reason, though, he feels like yours will be the hardest to face and endure.

the door clicks and he pushes it lightly. his eyes fall on your resting figure, if resting could be used as a word with how in pain you look.

you’re breathing heavily and your hand is clutching your side. he closes the door behind him, a small grin on his face, “hey, pretty? missed me?”

your eyes peak open and you glance towards the door. a small smile appears on your face at the sight of your husband, “satoru…”

he chuckles and gets settled right beside you, “the one and only…how’re you feeling?”

a wheeze escapes your lips as you try to sit up, but satoru quickly—and gently—pulls you into his embrace.

now, you’re both on the ground with you cradled in his arms. you look up, “I feel like shit.”

“figured,” he smiles while caressing your cheek, “you look the part.”

after your small laugh, the both of you fall into silence. your hand is holding onto satoru’s. you take a moment to breathe then you mumble, “I don’t have much time left.”

his arms around you tighten just a bit, “don’t say that.”

“but it’s true.”

he bites on his lips to hold back his tears, “no, no, it’s not—you can’t do this to me,” a shaky breath escapes his lips, “we still have a future together, a daughter to raise.”

you weakly reach put for his face and make him look at you. even with his teary eyes, he manages to compose himself quickly. you sigh in content, “at least, she will have you, her strong papa.”

“why can’t she have her mom as well? why are you giving up so easily?”

“I tried a lot, but it wasn’t and will never be enough—everyone tried!”

the tears you’ve tried to suppress are falling freely, “but it hurts so much, ‘toru! I can’t go on living with this pain!”

satoru is stunned to his core before he swiftly recovers and pulls you closer, doing his best to comfort you, “shh, I am sorry,” he kisses your temple, “I didn’t mean it,” your cheeks, “I am sorry.”

your arms weakly wrap around his shoulder as you sob into his chest, “I don’t want to die! I want to be with you! I wa—want to wake up to you by my side!”you’re cut off by your sob, “I want to raise our daughter together! I want to hear her sweet giggles every day—satoru, I don’t want to go yet!”

“I know,” he buries his face in your hair, “I don’t want you to go either.”

his hand is rubbing your back while you cry and wail. he presses feather-like kisses to your head, before he speaks, “I—…I want to hear you scold me more. I want to see your messy hair every morning. I want to see you team up on me with our daughter. I want to feel your love and give you mine every—every single day.”

you pull away slightly and you lock eyes. he isn’t crying, but he can’t deny the lump in his throat nor the pit in his stomach. you peck his lips gently and rest your forehead on his, “promise me that you will take care of her.”

his thumbs wipe at your tears before he nods, “yeah,” then whispers, “I promise.”

his face is still so close to your own as your body relaxes slightly in his hold. with a small sigh, you murmur against his lips, “I love you.”

“I love you too—I love you so much,” he croaked.

“you better,” you smile before closing your eyes and leaning into his touch.

your body goes limp, and satoru immediately hugs you closer, tighter. your face is buried in his chest while he repeatedly and frantically kisses the top of your head, tears of his own dripping to the ground.

his body envelopes your own like he’s fearful of the fact that something will take you away, yet again.

he doesn’t hear the door open at first.

his blood-shot eyes eventually travel to the person who entered, shoko. her voice is shaky as she speaks her name before she sighs, “I need to take her—“

“no.”

his eyes focus on your face once again, “I didn’t get to mourn all who passed—and I will be damned if I don’t mourn for my own wife.”

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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

#gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk imagines #jjk x you #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo imagine #jjk gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #jjk gojo x you #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x you #jjk x y/n #jjk gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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vampiretendencies · 11 months

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jj being on hair duty for all the kids while you’re cooking breakfast, and he has his spray and brush in hand while he does the boys hair, then he’s just like “pigtails today for my miss maybank?” and she just squeals because she can’t even talk

so sweet n domestic luv it :,) dad!jj, children are a boy and girl.

he’d come beaming down the stairs with his usual dimpled grin, what’s not to adore about the family that he’d hoped for. dressed for work, acquiring a job that has him working with his hands, perhaps a mechanic. the thick material, hugging his bulky body so tightly.

you are the first to receive his good morning greeting, from behind of course. breakfast on the stove, yet all he could do was breathe in the scent of the otherworldly being in front of him. feeling it flood his airways, with a sensation of relief and calamity.

“morning baby,” he’d mumble into the deepest nook of your neck, fingers gliding evenly over the surface that was your hips. "so pretty," he complimented, despite the nest of tousled tresses on your head and the sleep still ridden in your features. peppering repeated kisses to your temple. really, though is was his way of buttering you up before evenly snatching a piece of bacon of off the plate, knowing full well the rule was everyone eats together.

"jj, put it back!"

the piece of meat hangs from his mouth, with hands lifted in innocence before he slaps a serene smack to your ass causing a fit of laughter from the two children behind him. oldest, aka jj's shadow— the three year old boy, who idolized his father as though he could do no wrong. youngest, the girl reigning in at one. sat close to the island on their bar stools, waiting partially impatient by their plates for food.

"you two better stop laughing before you end up in time out with him, now get on hair duty, maybank."

"yes ma'am!"

every occurrence that its jj's turn to tame the children's hair he always looks at it in a foreign matter. because he doesn't manage his, priding on the fact that "water works wonders for his hair." the baby's thin bright blonde locks were growing so much so that recently her hair can go up, he misses the days when he could just brush it and be done. but you insist it has be styled. he maps out the the hairstyle excessively, his large hand almost suffocating the little pink brush.

"hm what'll be today sweet girl? pigtails today for miss maybank?"

peering over your shoulder from the stove an ear to ear smile is plastered on her alike dimpled features. and she simply can't contain it, so overbearing with affection for her father that this little gesture is erupting a fit of squeals from her lungs. somehow growing more and more honored with everytime jj touched her head, it was as if she thought she was in the presence of royalty.

"she loves it, j," you grin back at her, whilst a delighted smirk is on jj's face.

"course, she does baby look who's doing it," he curves the brush the form one half of the hairstyle. "momma's not a pro at this like daddy huh princess?"

you shake your his in disbelief as he just always has something pest like to say.

"me next dad!" the boy clapped his hands, cheering for jj.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #outer banks #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank concepts #jj maybank smut #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fic #jj maybank oneshot #jj maybank imagines

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morgandoesstuffsig · 10 months

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Idk if ur requests are open, but hear me out XD. A creator!reader who descends on Teyvat meets all the Archons and such. Then up and leaves by changing their appearance in order to explore their creation and how it has changed. Every once in a while Creator will make themselves obvious by performing acts only the Creator could. Once they are found out they just up and leave again only to resurface after another Divine act. TLDR: Creator playing cat and mouse with Teyvat

oh my GOD creator is just TORTURING then atp

small ramble because i still have massive writers block [cries] also ignore how late this is pls ok mwamwa thnx

c.w // yan. chars

song : Best Friend - Rex Orange County

SAGAU INCOMING : YAN CHARS.

okay so you decided 'hey man, what if i wasn't worshipped the moment i stepped outside'

so you just said fuck it and shifted

(it's been a while since you've done so, it kind of felt weird and hurt a tiny bit)

walking around teyvat in an odd, different form. completely different hair, height, clothes, you get the gist

the only things you couldnt change however were three things:

your blood (still gold, but you didn't plan on bleeding infront of anyone)

your aura (still comforting, caring, and even alluring)

your voice (why? zero clue.)

escaping the throne room you've oh so sadly been bound to!! having fun while doing it!!

(the only real reason you managed to escape is bc you managed to get the archons out and actually tend to their nations, as per your request order)

messing around while escaping fr!! people passing by wondering why this random person they've never seen is (not very) sneakily running away from the creator's palace/temple

but eventually shrugging it off, albeit reluctantly

messing around in mondstat, playing with the npc children more than you could usually, giving them the time of their life!!

this is where you use your first creator powers >:3

some poor kid scraped his knee real hard on the bridge, let's say timmie (hes so sweet he just wants to defend his birds pls b nice to him!!)

you, being the belovent god you are, use your divine powers to heal him

whether you do it with the hc of having to use your own gold blood or just having special healing powers only creator has, you do it

however, your dumbass mind hadn't thought of the fact that Venti may have been watching this

new outlander person with a mysterious aura

and now he quickly learns its you :0!!

the archons had no clue you could shapeshift!! why wasnt this in the ancient scrolls??? did they just lose the ones that mentioned it???

venti immediately finds some weird wind way to tell the other archons

fucking loud mouth

speaking of which, ei is freaking. out.

she came back to just check on you in your throne room and youre just.

not there??

panics, almost goes to zhongli before she gets venti's message and calms down slightly

atp you've realize you've outed yourself

so after making sure timmie is find you quickly run off into the forest before venti can come after you and smother you (both physically and with questions)

forest reached, new mission : new form needed

this basically keeps happening, and it's a needed breath of fresh air for you

running to liyue looking like a normal person until you magically form a special medicine that was unheard of from your hand for an elder, sickly lady

running from liyue to sumeru and shifting into!! an animal!! a fox!! cat!! tiger!! dog!! bird!! any of the sort!!

only getting outed from sumeru after you accidentally spoke while in animal form and having to go over to inazuma as an unknown, traveling sailor!!

getting outed after that for your extremely familiar aura and voice (inazuma people are scarily observant towards strangers) and eventually getting shoved escorted back to your palace/temple

funny stories to tell

however, the archons wont be leaving your room for quite a while..

oh well, who says you don't have other stunts to pull?

#morgan.died : writes #x reader #genshin impact #requests open #genshin cult au #sagau #sagau x reader #genshin #self aware genshin #genshin fanfic #genshin imagines #genshin rambles #rambles #various x reader

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queenshelby · 5 months

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Our Little Secret (Part 15)

Pairing: Dark! Cillian Murphy x Virgin! Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Brief Mention of Stillbirth

Notes: This will not be a love story. It will be dark, twisted and kinky. Cillian is portrayed as totally off cannon.

Two days following your phone call and without the knowledge of his sister, Cillian arrived at the place you were now staying at which, much to his surprise, was located in one of the worst areas of Dublin.

It was a studio apartment you had rented out just a week ago after you were given notice by your cousin to vacate his townhouse near Temple Bar. The unit was located above a somewhat questionable establishment and the living space wasn't much, and consisted mostly of a mattress on the floor, a small TV and a study desk.

The kitchenette was cramped and cluttered and, whilst the bathroom was functional, it lacked any semblance of privacy, with peeling paint chipping from the walls and a cracked mirror hanging precariously from the wall. The window was sealed shut, trapping the stale air within.

Despite the less than ideal conditions, you managed to find solace in its simplicity. It was all you could afford and you were proud for the fact that you managed to pay your own way after your mother and stepfather had kicked you out.

You received a financial support now from a public organization supporting women like you and, thanks to them, you managed to pay the bond for this place and were able to cover the cost of the abortion appointment scheduled for next week.

But then again, even though you considered terminating the pregnancy and knew that, doing so, would be for the best, the idea of ending your child's life felt increasingly unbearable now, making you consider Cillian's offer.

"Hey," Cillian greeted softly, walking in cautiously after you opened the door. He was taken aback by the stark reality of your living situation. He had imagined something more akin to a charming apartment, rather than this dilapidated structure situated above a seedy bar.

"Hey," you countered

shyly, inviting him to step inside. "Come in."

His footsteps echoed loudly, amplifying the sense of isolation.

"How are you holding up?" he asked cautiously, glancing around the room.

"Just great, considering I live in a hole," you quipped sarcastically, motioning towards the mattress on the floor. "Make yourself comfortable."

The tension between you was palpable, a mixture of resentment and regret permeating the air.

"This place, Y/N, it does not seem safe," Cillian murmured uncomfortably, observing the grimy surroundings. "Not for you, definitely," he added, concern etched onto his face.

"Yeah, well, I am lacking options Cillian! My mother and Frank kicked me out after she found out about us which, I think, is understandable," you remarked sarcastically, sitting down on the mattress beside him. "And you know what? It's fine. It really is," you went on to say before Cillian sighed, his heart contracting painfully for you.

"It's not fine Y/N. You can't live like this," Cillian protested, his voice cracking with emotion. He felt utterly helpless witnessing your plight, trapped in a situation he inadvertently created.

"Well, I would rather live here than anywhere where I would have to face the consequences of my poor decision-making," you retorted defensively, casting your gaze downward.

"Y/N, please. Let me help you," Cillian urged, reaching out to grasp your arm gently. You recoiled instinctively, alarm flashing across your features. Cillian pulled back immediately, aware of the fragility of your emotional state.

"Are you still finishing college?" Cillian inquired and you nodded.

"Yes, but I had to change institutions. I am working during the day and go to school in the evening now. It works alright for me and I am almost done with my final exams," you confided, shifting restlessly on the mattress.

"And then? What are you going to do?" Cillian inquired, his voice laced with concern.

"Law school, if I get in," you replied, your voice softening slightly.

"That sounds promising," Cillian commented, his tone brightening. "Do you think you will pass your exams with all that is happening right now?"

"I have to, right?" you replied, your voice cracking slightly.

"Yes, of course, but...," Cillian began but then stopped abruptly, noticing your hesitation. He knew that he couldn't push you too far, especially given the delicate nature of your predicament. You looked down, tugging at the hem of your shirt nervously.

"May I ask you something personal?" you ventured, shifting uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

"Of course," Cillian assured you, eager to learn more about your thoughts and feelings.

"Why exactly do you want me to keep the baby?" you probed tentatively, your curiosity piqued.

Cillian hesitated briefly, searching for the words to articulate his complex emotions.

"I guess I wanted to be father for a while, and I am most certainly not getting any younger either. Max is not my biological son and, whist I love him as if he was my own, I know that I may lose him sooner rather than later if my ex keeps carrying on the way she does. So, when I learned that you were carrying my child, Y/N," he faltered, his voice breaking slightly, "it felt like an opportunity for a second chance at parenthood. I mean, I don't want to impose my dreams on you, but the thought of having a child, a family, feels so meaningful to me," Cillian explained and you sat there quietly, absorbing every word Cillian spoke.

His honesty, his openness, and his willingness to share such intimate parts of himself touched you deeply but you were not ready to be a mother yet and this would not change overnight.

You hesitated briefly before answering, "I appreciate your honesty, Cillian, but I need some time to process everything."

"Of course," Cillian responded warmly "Whatever you choose, I promise to respect your decision."

As the conversation wound down, an awkward silence settled between you. Both of you were lost in your thoughts, wrestling with the implications of your shared predicament.

Cillian broke the silence first, suggesting that you reconsider moving to a safer neighborhood. "Regardless of whether you decide to keep the baby or not, you know that I can help you find a better place to stay, right?" he proposed generously.

"I know but...no, thank you, Cillian. I can manage on my own," you protested, your cheeks reddening slightly. "Besides, I am used to this now," you added, gesturing around the cramped quarters.

"It won't be easy, but I assure you, I can handle it," you assured him confidently, displaying strength and resilience.

You were grateful for Cillian's kindness but refused to depend on him, determined to forge your own path. "If you insist, then I will respect your wishes," Cillian conceded, acknowledging your stubbornness which was something that had drawn him to you in the first place.

"Thank you," you replied softly, gratitude swirling within you.

A brief silence ensued, the atmosphere thick with tension and anticipation. Neither of you dared break the silence, fearing that the wrong words might shatter the fragile equilibrium.

Cillian cast his gaze around the dimly lit room, pondering the situation. "We could take a walk and grab something to eat if you like," he suggested cautiously, eager to escape the confines of the cramped space. "I remember how much you like Chinese," he teased playfully, attempting to lighten the mood.

"I would love some food other than instant noodles," you admitted sheepishly as you gathered your belongings hastily, while Cillian attempted to conceal his amazement at your ability to pack everything into a single worn-out backpack. He couldn't imagine living in such conditions, and yet the admiration he felt for your perseverance grew stronger.

You grabbed your jacket and stepped into the chilly night air, the wind whipping your hair wildly around your face.

Cillian followed closely behind, his hands buried deep in his pockets. He kept his distance, giving you ample space to navigate the uneven cobblestone streets. As you walked together, the silence between you felt heavy with unspoken words and unresolved emotions.

"Are you feeling okay?" Cillian questioned tenderly, his eyes scanning your face carefully. Concern flickered across his features, and he reached out to touch your hand lightly. Your skin warmed beneath his fingertips, a subtle connection forming between you.

"Yes, I am," you answered honestly, turning your gaze away self-consciously.

"I have just been feeling a bit overwhelmed with everything that is happening in my life right now," you confided, placing your hand on your stomach protectively. The truth was, you were still undecided about whether to proceed with the termination, and the constant reminder of this tiny life growing inside you was overwhelming.

"That is understandable," Cillian murmured sympathetically, offering you moral support. "It's a lot to deal with, especially all at once. But I promise to be here for you, regardless of the outcome," he reassured you, his gentle touch conveying his sincerity.

You gazed at him gratefully, appreciative of his unwavering commitment. Even though your emotions were torn between resentment and affection, it was impossible to deny the depth of Cillian's compassion.

"I know it must sound strange, but I feel...

I feel like I can't breathe sometimes, like this is all happening to someone else," you confessed, your voice wavering slightly. "Like I am just watching myself fall apart," you continued, pausing briefly to catch your breath.

"I understand," Cillian consoled you, his grip tightening fractionally on your hand. "I have been there, you know, feeling like I was trapped in a relentless cycle of my own creation after Danielle, and I lost our first baby. I was so focused on my own grief that I didn't notice hers and it quickly drove us apart," he divulged candidly, recalling the darkest moments of his life.

"I am so sorry, Cillian" you whispered softly, your hand reflexively clasping his.

"Don't be," he replied, his grip firming around your fingers. "It's all in the past now. We are finally getting a divorce, which was something I put off for far too long. Besides, I wouldn't be here today if I hadn't gone through it all," he added optimistically, a faint smile flickering across his lips.

You glanced at him, his optimism infectious. His strength amazed you, inspiring you to embrace your own challenges and rise above whatever obstacles lay ahead.

"A few days ago, you asked me whether I would give evidence against Danielle, about the assault," you mused aloud, staring down at the cobblestones below. "I will do it," you declared resolutely, your jaw set firmly. "You need to be able to see Max and she shouldn't withhold him from you regardless of what happened," you added emphatically, your tone hardening noticeably.

Cillian's heart swelled with pride and gratitude, admiring your courage and tenacity. "Thank you," he murmured, squeezing your hand tightly. "I don't expect you to," he added, hesitant to burden you further.

"No, it's important," you insisted, your voice steady with conviction while Cillian stared at you blankly, marveling at your strength and resolve. "Are you sure?" he asked, seeking reassurance.

"Yes, I am," you affirmed, smiling weakly. "But you need to buy me dinner, because I am broke," you joked, playfully nudging Cillian's shoulder.

"Consider it done," Cillian promised, leading you towards a restaurant he knew in the area.

When you arrived at a small Chinese diner nestled between two larger establishments, the scent of authentic stir fry and dumplings filled the air. The neon sign outside buzzed, casting ominous shadows along the street. You exchanged uncertain glances before stepping inside.

Inside, the restaurant was bustling with patrons, a lively mix of locals and tourists enjoying a late supper. The hostess greeted Cillian warmly, her eyes widening upon spotting him. You felt a rush of embarrassment, wondering why everyone seemed to recognize him.

"Can we get a booth please?" Cillian requested politely, guiding you toward a corner table nestled amidst the din of laughter and clinking dishes. The hostess obliged, smiling warmly as she led you both to your desired seating area.

As you slid into the cozy booth seats, you admired the quaint charm of the restaurant and the eclectic mix of patrons milling about. You couldn't help but feel a sense of relief, knowing that you were safely tucked away from the majority of the crowd, which you knew was why Cillian had chosen this table.

Soon after you were seated, you ordered your favorite dish, spicy fried rice and spring rolls, while Cillian ordered a variety of dishes to share, ensuring that you would enjoy the experience.

"Can you please not put any sprouts on any of these dishes?" Cillian requested politely, squirming slightly in his seat.

Confusion washed over your face. "I am sorry, but is there a reason why you dislike beansprouts?" you wondered curiously, genuinely perplexed.

"Oh, no...I like them. It's just that they are risky when you are pregnant. They sometimes carry listeria," Cillian clarified, his face scrunching up slightly. "You know, just in case you decide to keep the baby, there are some foods you shouldn't eat. I read it somewhere."

You paused, mulling over his words. "Well, then, I suppose we should avoid those," you chuckled nervously, exchanging a fleeting glance with Cillian.

The mention of the pregnancy stirred mixed emotions within you again, prompting a wave of discomfort. Yet, despite the turmoil brewing beneath the surface, you couldn't help but feel compelled by the notion of embracing this newfound potentiality.

"If I was to keep the baby, how would this work, between us?" you asked Cillian warily, trying to gauge his intentions.

Swallowing hard, Cillian shifted uneasily in his seat. "Well, I suppose that depends on what you want," he hedged cautiously, wanting to present a fair arrangement without jeopardizing your autonomy.

"I want to finish my studies and become a lawyer," you replied firmly, meeting his gaze head-on. "I need to focus on that and raising a child at the same time will be difficult," you explained, worry clouding your expression.

Cillian studied you intently, sensing the uncertainty behind your words. "I understand," he murmured, nodding slowly. "I truly do," he repeated, allowing himself a moment to gather his thoughts. "Let me propose something," he offered, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I will help you financially, however discreetly possible, until you graduate. I will buy you a house, for you and our child to live and, in return, you can let me be a part of our child's life. I can help look after the baby. You can work and study. Whatever you want to do. We can have a shared care arrangement in place," he proposed delicately but with determination burning in his eyes.

Your gaze drifted to the busy kitchen, watching the chefs whip up plates of delectable delights. The aromas wafting towards you stirred memories of your childhood spent cooking with your mother. You blinked back tears, yearning for a simpler time when life was less complicated. Swallowing hard, you turned your attention back to Cillian.

"Okay," you said, your voice barely audible amid the cacophony of the restaurant. "But, before I agree to anything, I need to clarify some things. First, you cannot buy me a house. That's too much and it wouldn't feel right," you argued fiercely, clutching your purse tightly.

Cillian shook his head vehemently, his gaze locked on yours. "Please, let me do this," he pleaded, his voice trembling slightly. "You cannot live the way you do with a child on the way," he implored earnestly, his blue eyes pleading with you.

"No, Cillian," you interrupted sternly, the corners of your mouth flattening into a thin line. "I refuse to be indebted to you. If I accept your offer, it will be on my terms."

"How about I buy the house on trust for our child, in my name, and you can pay the same amount of rent you are paying now, for the place you are living in," Cillian tried to compromise his initial proposal.

"That's more reasonable, I suppose," you agreed, your eyebrows arching upward.

"And where would you live?" you pressed, curious about the logistics of such an arrangement. Cillian hesitated, his gaze drifting to the candle flickering on the table.

"Nearby, I suppose," he muttered reluctantly, feeling the weight of responsibility bearing down on him.

Your heart raced, your palms sweating with anxiety. "Alright," you agreed, swallowing hard. "But I will not stop working or studying," you stressed adamantly, raising your chin defiantly. "I want to make a life for myself and our child," you declared, your voice steadying.

Cillian smiled widely, relief washing over him. "I understand," he assured you sincerely before asking "so you will keep the baby?"

You deliberated silently. The decision weighed heavily on your shoulders, as the gravity of your choice bore down on you. This little life growing inside you was a force to be reckoned with, a tangible reminder of the consequences of your actions.

Finally, you met Cillian's gaze, determination reflecting in your eyes. "Yes, I will," you confirmed softly, your voice scarcely rising above a whisper just before Cillian's phone buzzed and he received a message from his sister.

"You are an idiot!" was all it said on the screen before, suddenly, a photograph popped up beneath it.

You glanced at Cillian who was staring at his phone incredulously, his face crinkling in disbelief, seeing that someone had snapped a photo of you, together, holding hands, before posting it on Twitter.

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@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fic

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odditycircus-2002 · 7 months

Note

Important question but how would Shang have reacted if medusa reader had died between Mkx or something, like not long after many of the other characters were turned into Revannts, she got taken out as well despite her best efforts, and got resurrected by Quan Chi. How would he react when he comes back in mk11 to his wife’s death and turned into a undead servant.

Short answer: Astonishment at the fact Quan-chi managed to get his hooks into her. Shortly follows by a cold fury he barely manages to contain. Given who is allies are and the fact he’s got beef with EVERYONE, he’s not going to show the full extent your death and enslavement has on him. Granted, Medusa!Reader doesn’t exactly make it easy.

Long answer below:

Fujinn groans as he blinks against the low torchlight. The first thing he notices is the feeling of cold metal wrapped around his wrists, and just a glance up confirms what he suspected to be true. He's chained to the ceiling with both his arms in the air. The demigod's chains rattle as he looks to his left and right to find Night Wolf and Shang Tsung chained by their hands with their backs against pillars decorated with skulls.

"Night Wolf! Shang Tsung!"

Fujinn's calls finally rouse the Matokka and Sorcerer from their stupor. Both men take a quick moment to observe their surroundings, which look to be made in a gothic style, with bones decorating every surface as far as they can see. Night Wolf is the first to speak.

"Where are we?"

They already had a good idea where they were, given that the last thing they recalled was attempting to sneak past the Netherealm armies, only to be captured by Lui Kang's Revenant. That and Shinnok's decapitated head directly in front of them, where its been placed on a wheel that crackled with red lightning. Just as Shang Tsung was about to answer, a familiar voice beat him to it.

"Why, you're in Lord Shinnok's Bone Temple."

Shang Tsung feels his heart skip a beat at that voice. While it's raspier than he remembered with a dual undertone, leaving a faint echo to your words, he's known it for so many eons that he'd recognize it anywhere. Yet, as he tried to turn his head to the side to catch even a glimpse of your figure, you were already gone. Instead, he's met with former Empress Sindel's Revenant.

"Sindel, you look well. Death becomes you."

He comments with his usual poise and smug expression, barely faltering when Sindel scratches his cheek.

"Always the charmer, Shang Tsung. I will enjoy feeding Lord Shinnok your soul."

Your voice could then be heard again; this time, the Sorcerer can get a good look at you.

"Can we not have ssssome fun with them first? I'm sure our Lord has been dying for some entertainment."

You stood in front of the pillar Night Wolf was chained to with a veil that covered the upper half of your face with a familiar, serene, and sinister grin he fondly remembers. However, you had undergone many changes after his death. Like the rest of the Revenants, your once vibrant and lively form had become an ashen grey, with your snakes becoming black as coal with glowing yellow eyes. While he couldn't see your eyes, as usual, he could make out a faint glow from behind the mask; no doubt, your gaze had become filled with fire with barely a trace of you left. You had a thick orange line covering the entire neck like that of a choker, yet Shang Tsung already knows that's the injury that killed you after Sindel chopped your head off.

Sindel scowls at you. "This would not be because you wish to keep the Sorcerer for yourself, would it?"

You reply with a clear, patronizing tone while waving your taloned hands in front of you. Sindel and Night Wolf scowl deeply at you. The latter's expression shifts into one of disgust as you lean close to him, your nest of snakes snapping their jaws just a hair's width from his skin.

"Oh no no, Sssindel. Fujinn and Night Wolf, the man who killed you, most certainly deserve to suffer. I am simply reminding you to enjoy yourself while doing so, to entertain our Lord. However, if I may make a suggestion,"

In the blink of an eye, you stood before Shang Tsung to gently caress his face, careful with your talons, unlike Sindel.

”Wouldn’t he make a better Revenant than a snack for our Lord? Surely, it could never hurt to ensure our victory for the New Era by recruiting more minions.”

The Sorcerer's gaze narrows in a mixture of cold fury and dejection. How could Quan-chi, that second-rate Sorcerer, have the gull to claim his wife as a minion? How could you, a conniving sorceress who's always stood by his side for centuries, be brought so low? He should've been wiser as to listen to your suspicions of Quan-chi.

Yet, it's a relief to know that even in your sorry new form, your love hasn't wavered. Even if said love includes you briefly scuffling with Night Wolf's Revenant on his behalf, only so you could drag him to what remained of Shinnok to make him "better and stronger" once you see the damage the Revenant did to his face.

"I am sure Lord Shinnok will resurrect you once I convince him of your worth. I did not forget our vows, my love. Not even death will part us forever; soon, we will never be apart."

Fortunately, Fujinn interfered before you could carry out your plan, by sending an arrow in your direction which you easily dodge. You hiss at the demi-god as you move your entire body in front of Shang Tsung to block him from view.

"HE. ISsssSss. MINE!"

You then pounce at Fujinn who held out his crossbow in front of him to jam between your jaws, preventing you from sinking your fangs into his flesh.

Despite the flashes of pain that pulsated from his face, it still touched Shang Tsung to know that you still remained so steadfast in your devotion to him, as much as you could under Shinnok's control anyway. There's no use in stewing in his anger and astonishment for now. He will succeed in resurrecting both you and Sindel, then claiming Kronika's crown for himself with you by his side as his muse while rebuilding fate and destiny in his image.

A/N: I hope this answered your question well enough😅Don't forget to comment, like, and reblog!

#oddball speaks #mortal kombat #mk x reader #mortal kombat x reader #shang tsung #shang tsung x reader #Shang Tsung #mk aftermath #mortal kombat aftermath

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abiiors · 1 year

Text

Special Girl

Day two of Matty's Birthday Bash! She's short today because I'm exhausted but also horny Matty for y'all. Don't worry, all of this is leading up to birthday smut. Enjoy :). Series Masterlist.

Tuesday: First Birthdays As A Couple - Your Birthday

Matty sits patiently on the edge of the bed.

It’s only past 9 in the morning and the curtains are shut tight which leaves the room still covered in dim light. He’s been up and moving for an hour now, a feat he’s quite proud of. Also, the fact that he’s managed to cook a whole breakfast spread without waking you up.

Now the tray—laden with all sorts of breakfast foods—sits on the bedside table. He’s thought of waking you up three times now but every time he ends up pulling his hand back. He can’t bring himself to do it because you just look so peaceful in his bed. Your messy hair is fanned out on his pillow, white sheets covering you till just above your breasts as your naked shoulder peeks out. Your eyelashes flutter every once in a while, your lips are parted slightly and your arm is thrown around lazily on his side of the bed.

His side of the bed. He likes the thought of the bed belonging to both of you, likes the thought of sharing his room with you, his house, his life. He’s become quite the hopeless romantic since you’ve entered his life and these are the quiet moments where he’s overwhelmed with bliss.

But the food is going cold.

Matty gets on the bed, crawls closer to you and puts his hand on your warm back, gently rubbing it up and down.

‘Wake up, baby,’ he whispers and places a soft kiss on your shoulder. He doesn’t miss the way a small smile immediately makes its way onto your lips.

You hum softly, barely even awake yet but he continues the kisses further up your shoulder, up the junction where it meets your neck.

‘Come on, birthday girl,’ he smiles, nibbles on your ear, ‘I got you breakfast in bed.’

That immediately perks you up and you sleepily grin at him. ‘You remembered!’ you mumble into the pillow with a barely concealed grin.

He frowns slightly, unable to hide the little pang of sadness he feels at such a simple statement. ‘Of course, I remembered, love,’ he continues placing feathery kisses on your cheek, temple and eventually your hair, ‘you’re my special girl, how could I ever forget?’

His heart immediately melts at your adorable reaction; sleepy and dishevelled with a big goofy grin on your face, you finally open your eyes. It also helps that he knows you’re naked under the covers and for a minute he debates just getting in and having a repeat of last night.

A faint rosy blush creeps up your face and Matty runs his fingers over your cheeks, traces the outline of the pink tinge.

‘You should spend all of today exactly like this,’ he grins, only half joking. ‘Wearing these bedsheets, hair exactly like this, drool and all,’ he teases.

‘I do not drool,’ you defend vehemently but also instantly check around your mouth which makes him laugh.

‘No, I’m serious,’ he says breathlessly, ‘what a dream that would be.’ He closes his eyes for a moment and lets himself get immersed in the daydream, in the feel of your warm skin that he could touch and caress any time he wanted to without any restrictions.

‘I can’t walk around your house naked!’ you giggle.

‘Mmm, I disagree,’ he says in a fake pragmatic tone, ‘you should only walk around my house naked.’

‘Pervert,’ you slap away at his chest, laughing along.

You clutch the sheets around you tighter and sit up, stretching slightly. The movement makes your back arch and Matty’s mind instantly floods with all sorts of racy thoughts. Which he has to actively control as he watches you eye the breakfast tray hungrily. You would be famished, he thinks, definitely after last night…and just like that his thoughts are back in the gutter. He's barely able to keep his hands (or his mind) off you.

‘Go on, then,’ he picks up the tray once again and puts it in your lap, ‘chef’s special waffles,’ he announces with a flourish.

You giggle at his antics and quickly dig in. Matty watches eagerly, practically at the edge of his seat as you put the first bite in your mouth, close your eyes a second later and moan in delight.

And there he goes again…

---------

(you have to tell me if this is shit btw, you're legally obliged to)

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sprite-writes · 1 year

Text

Yours (and Ours)

Leonard “Bones” McCoy/Reader (Original Female Character)

Summary: McCoy hated surprises, and being interrupted. Though for the right person, he supposed he could make an exception.

Word Count: 2,214

A/N: Guys im so sorry this chapter took so long LOL sometimes writing is hard but worlds biggest shout out to my beta @lightninginmyeyes who I could not have finished this without <333 also masterlist is coming soon !! anyways enjoy <3

Breaks were hard to come by in the medical field. Being a doctor was all gas, no breaks. Patients' demands were high, and staff demands were even higher. Most of those in Science Blue spent most of, if not their entire day, on their feet.

Leonard McCoy, most of all.

Chief Medical Officer was no small feat. Most days he wasn't, just a doctor– he was a nurse, a therapist, a leader, and whatever the hell else was demanded of him.

Without a doubt, breaks were hard to come by.

So, on the rare occasion when the medbay breathed for a moment, and he could slip out for an indulgent walk and a much needed cup of coffee, he thanked god for the opportunity. With a loop around the mess hall and a replicated coffee, he felt like a new man. Far too soon, he was back in front of the medbay, strolling in, greeting Chapel with a nod and as much of a smile as he could muster. His head nurse returned the smile…a bit too cheerfully for the day they were having. Leonard elected not to think about it too much. God knows he had enough on his plate. He punched in the keycode to his office, ready to tackle this new bout of paperwork.

The thing is, McCoy was used to his office being a particular way. He kept his lamp on the left side, his family photo on the right, with a box of tissues and a cup of pens. Everything had its place and was accounted for.

So the box of colored pencils and stack of paper laying atop his things was a fair shock to him. So was the woman sitting at his desk, in his chair, looking very much like she belonged there.

He faltered for a moment as he took in the sight and gained his bearings.

“Uh, Sunshine?” he said with bewilderment. He glanced at his watch to double-check that his coffee run hadn’t stretched to the end of his shift (which was impossible anyways) and confirmed she should have been on the bridge by now and certainly not sitting in his office, in his space, amongst his things.

At the sound of his voice, the woman's head shot up, her focus broken from the papers laid in front of her.

“Oh hi, Len! I was wondering when you’d be back,” she said casually, like it was routine for her to be there. With no explanation, she returned to the task of, well, whatever she was doing.

Leonard stood, thoroughly perplexed. It was midday, and he knew for a fact an operations manager would not have nothing to do around this time. From her silence, it would seem that he would be getting no answers unless he asked for them.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you Sunshine but, uh, aren’t you on shift right now? And how exactly did you get into my office?” he inquired with more patience than he would have offered anyone else.

She lifted a red colored pencil from the paper and thoughtfully tapped it to her temple

“Technically, yes, I am on shift, but I decided this is part of my job, and Kirk hurt my feelings earlier this week so he owes me a moment away.” He finally approached the desk and peeked at her handiwork. “And Chapel let me in, by the way – said you wouldn't mind.”

Her movements slowed to a stop, and she looked up at the doctor with the biggest, prettiest eyes he’d ever seen.

“You don't mind, do you?” she asked. Usually, he would have, but he decided right then, that he did not actually mind at all.

“I’m more curious as to what this,” he gestured to his now messy desk, “is all about?”

She beckoned him to come closer, and he found himself sitting in the obligatory guest seat…at his own desk. Sunshine held up a glossy piece of paper, folded in half with blue and pink bubble font across the front reading, ‘Get well soon!’

He stared for a moment, his eyebrows drawing together.

“You’re…writing cards?”

“Yeah!” she nodded. “For the engineers who got affected by that gas leak. That rash looked… not fun. Thought it might cheer them up, maybe.”

He would never say it out loud, for fear of losing her friendship forever, but at times like this, Kirk may have had a point about her being a bit…kindergarten teacher.

She laughed at his sort of scrunched-up expression. “Listen, I know what you’re thinking and you’re right! It's a little silly, but the engineers that were on that dock were all Ensigns! Like, fresh out of Starfleet! They probably miss their families, and now they have a nasty purple rash to worry about. I just thought they might like a card.”

McCoy could say for certain that he had never met anyone quite like Lieutenant Sunshine - and realized he never would again. This was incredibly kind, and wholly unnecessary… and a very Sunshine thing to do. Though one important question still lingered.

“And you’re doing this in my office because…?”

She shrugged.

“Well I could do it in my quarters, but I figured you could use the company.” She paused. Before adding sheepishly, “And I wanted the company.”

McCoy coughed to cover up his surprise. Though, he wasn’t sure what else he was expecting. Sunshine was known for being candid with her feelings. Most of them anyway. His cheeks dusted pink.

Sunshine, oblivious to her friend's blushing, tossed a colored pencil and a card his way.

“You should sign this one, by the way. A little birdie told me you yelled at Ensign Barlowe while taking her vitals, and I’m sure she’d appreciate a card from you.”

He internally damned Scotty, who was not only probably the ‘little birdie’ but also definitely put her up to this.

He stared down at the card, forcing his head to stop running a mile a minute, and finally mustered a scoff.

“I’m not signing an apology card because an Ensign couldn’t sit still on the Biobed.”

Sunshine shook her head and giggled. God, what a sound, he thought.

“It’s a get well soon card, not an apology card. And I’m not scolding you, Len. That day must have been stressful. I mean, fourteen engineers all turning purple? Crazy. I could never do your job.”

He shook his head. He was pretty sure Sunshine could do anything she put her mind to. His mind wandered briefly to what it would be like, with her by his side, decked in Science Blue. His heart stuttered at the image.

He wasn’t sure why, but he found himself scribbling ‘feel better’ onto the bottom of the paper, and tossing it back to her. The smile that bloomed on her face told him it was the right decision.

He leaned back in the chair and watched her thoughtfully. The sound of her voice played on repeat like a record in his head. He found himself ruminating on every pretty syllable she spoke.

“Kirk hurt your feelings?” he blurted, remembering how she got here. Sunshine paused, surprised by his suddenness. An unreadable look passed over her frowning face.

“He just said a dumb joke, it’s nothing to worry about. Promise.” Her smile returned, just as quickly as it left. Leonard tilted his head. He was expecting her to launch into a story of which he would hang on every word and that would give him fuel to berate Kirk with later. Just how badly did Kirk fuck up?

“I can practically hear you thinking, you know. You’re such a worrywart.” Her eyes playfully flicked from her cards to him. “Like I said, it’s fine.”

“You sure? If you’re mad enough, I could schedule him for a measles vaccine. Maybe a booster shot too.”

Her laugh echoed around his office and illuminated it like a fire. He smiled, finding hers to be contagious.

“That’s gotta be malpractice, Len. Hard no from me.” She shook her head.

“Malpractice? I’d be doing him a favor. That man avoids healthcare like it’s the plague.”

Sunshine rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, Doctor.”

She looked like she belonged, he thought. Sitting in his office, in his chair. He allowed himself a brief moment of peace, as he sipped his coffee and watched her switch colored pencils. He was content to just watch her like this, without conversation or reason. Unfortunately, nothing can last forever. His eyes drifted toward the ticking clock.

“You know I have to get back to work eventually, right?” Not that he wanted to leave, at all. In fact, if time allowed, and if he didn't know Chapel would be beating down his door soon, he would stay cooped up in his office with her for hours.

She laughed. “Yeah, I know, CMO. I’m starting my rounds soon too. All I could squeeze from Kirk was 15 minutes down here.”

Leonard blew a raspberry.

“I wish I could get 15 minutes away.”

Her head quirked.

“Don't you have some time? Chapel told me you weren't busy, or else I wouldn't have bothered you.” She paused and received the pointed look from her friend. “Okay, I probably still would have, but with more poise and apologeticness - but that's beside the point!” Sunshine began stacking up her cards and putting away her colored pencils. “Chapel specifically said you weren’t busy when she let me in!”

The gears in Leonard’s head turned. He was very, very far from not being busy. The Medbay had been as bustling as ever this shift, and the only reason he left in the first place was by Chapel's suggestion, who swore she could handle things for a few minutes.

Damn it, Chapel.

“Len? Everything alright?”

When his eyes pulled from the ground, Sunshine was right in front of him, with a questioning smile. Leonard felt blood rush to his face at their proximity. She smelled like… well, sunshine. And flowers. And just… good.

“Yeah, fine,” he said gruffly.

“Walk me out?”

“Of course.”

He dared to place his hand on the small of her back as he led her out, and if he paid just a little more attention, he would have seen her cheeks redden at the contact.

They exited in tandem, with Sunshine rambling about wishing rounds were any other day, and how the last thing she wanted to do was run around the ship checking up on complaints that ‘could easily be solved in an email.’

“Well,” she said as they reached the entrance. “Thanks for letting me hide in your office for a few.”

He waved his hand. “Anytime,” he said with lighthearted sarcasm.

She placed the cards on the reception desk and snorted, “You’ll regret saying that, McCoy.”

He replied, with all sincerity, “I doubt that.”

They were both quiet for a moment, looking at one another, eyes glossing over with adoration.

Sunshine had always admired the doctor's strength, and his drive to help others in all circumstances.

Leonard would forever be in awe of her kindness and her unwavering spirit.

A cleared throat broke both of their gazes. Sunshine flinched, nearly dropping her papers.

“Chapel! Hi! Thanks for letting me use Len’s office.” She laughed nervously, awkwardly dropping the stack of cards on the desk. “You’ll make sure the engineers get these?”

Chapel glanced between the two knowingly. Both of which now refused to make eye contact. Leonard was suddenly very interested in the linoleum floors and Sunshine in the plain white ceiling.

“Of course, Lieutenant,” the head nurse said politely. Sunshine thanked her again before acknowledging Leonard.

“Have a good shift, and, um, see you later!” she blurted before hightailing out of the medbay like it was suffocating her.

The Doctor watched her go with the sudden sinking feeling that he’d done something wrong. And as usual, when these feelings began to well within him, he took them out on whoever was closest, or, in this case, responsible.

“Really, Chapel?”

He leaned over the reception desk.

The woman in question stared at her manicured nails without a care in the world.

“Really, what, Doctor?”

Leonard gritted his teeth impossibly hard and blew a long breath out of his nostrils.

“You didn’t think to, oh I dunno, warn me before letting someone in my office in the middle of the work day?”

He wasn’t angry at her, not really. He was more frustrated with the feelings that clawed up his chest whenever he heard Sunshine’s laugh or the constant feeling to reach out for her -

No, he wasn’t really mad at Chapel.

But that wasn’t going to stop him from acting like he was.

“It’s just Sunshine,” the woman shrugged. “Would you have preferred I turned her away?” She finally met Leonards's eyes with just as much ferocity as he was giving her.

“No,” he gritted out, “but a warning would be preferable.”

She rolled her eyes and returned to her work.

“Just trying to move things along, Doctor.”

He stomped away before his head nurse could add anything else.

He returned to his office, palms sweating, and tried not to focus on the smell of her warm, floral perfume now hanging in the air.

#Leonard McCoy #on a cloudy day #leonard mccoy x reader #original character #yay new chapter #I hope u enjoy #star trek alternate original series #Star Trek #jim kirk

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writingmysanity · 1 year

Text

Lullaby

Prompt: Lullaby

Pairing: Viktor x reader (Domestic!Viktor- does this have its own tag yet?? it should, its hot.)

Word count: 616

A/N: I am sorry that i have been so inconsistent on posting. I am trying '^^ mental stuff. Am getting better. i think. this is helping. If you have sent in a request, I am working on it. This is for my domestication of a feral scientist bit. it brings me much serotonin.

Humming to yourself, you fight to keep your eyes open, arms still automatically bouncing Aryn gently. Not even her shrill cries seem to be enough to keep you up much longer. Normally, Viktor would have long ago taken over, but Heigmerdinger claimed an emergency. He has been gone since the early hours of the morning.

Sighing, you glance out of the high windows, the only light shining through them is the yellowish radiance of the street lamps just outside.

“Come on, sweet girl,” you whisper, voice thick with sleep, head lulling down to stare at her as you bounce her, her cries softening. “I know you need sleep- mama, too.” you must have been more tired than you realized because you didn't hear the sound of the door opening and closing, nor the tell tell sound of Viktor’s cane. In fact, you didn't notice him at all until his arm slid around your waist, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. Yelping softly, your head whips to look at him, clutching Aryn to your chest, heaving a deep sigh.

“Oh, Viktor,” you hum, offering him the best smile you can manage. The bags under his eyes nearly match your own. He smiles softly back, pressing his lips to your cheek. “Welcome home.”

“Hand her over, Dove,” he hums, moving to shift in front of you, opening his arms to the bundle wrapped to your chest. You frown, shaking your head.

“You must be exhausted,” you grouch, body already reaching to set her in his arms. He chuckles, pressing his lips to your forehead, cradling Aryn to him with one arm, the other holding you there for a moment, allowing him to breathe you in with a deep sigh.

“You more than myself, Dove. Please, you need rest. Go lie down,” he mumbles into your hair, rubbing his thumb behind your ear. “You deserve it.” sighing, you look down at her, her fussing lessening now that she is in his arms.

“Daddy’s girl,” you gripe playfully, grinning when his shoulders start to shake in laughter, knocking into your own.

“I will be with you as soon as she is asleep,” he promises, lips brushing just above your eye. Nuzzling into your temple, he lets go of you in favor of taking hold of his cane once more. “I crave nothing more than sleep, as well.” sighing, you nod, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth before heading towards the bedroom. Before you're even able to flop onto its surface, you hear the soft groveling sound of your parents’ record player clicking in the background before a familiar tune starts. Smiling to yourself, you cuddle under the blankets, dozing off listening to Viktor sing to Aryn gently, her cries dying down quickly.

You wake a few hours later to the soft patter of rain, and the gentle cooing of Aryn in the next room. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you push yourself up, looking to your side. Viktor didn't make it to the bed. Sighing softly, you shake your head with a smile as you stand to make your way to the living room. Once there, you have to stifle your laughter, seeing Aryn swaddled and placed gently in the portable bassinet Viktor and Jayce had designed for her, eyes open wide, chattering away to her father who is lying half on the couch, arm thrown over his eyes, mouth ajar, a soft snore acting as ambient noise for the now bustling baby girl who has locked eyes with you.

Allowing yourself a soft laugh, you sneak over to her, tugging her to you.

“Shh, let’s let papa rest, little one. He needs it.”

____

Arcane taglist:

@grumpyoutlaw @thehistoriangirl @rainbowpitofdoom @wizarrdofooze @uniquedeerwitch @ace-of-zaun @aerynwrites @queenxxxsupreme @beeblybub @ears-queers-gears-n-fears @just-an-adventurer @katelynwithpaint @wtf-andys @blackswansociety @crunchlite

If you would like to be added to the tag list, please send me a message or ask or something.

#poor sweet viktor #arcane viktor x reader #viktor x reader #viktor #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #viktor arcane x reader #viktor league of legends #viktor the machine herald #viktor x you #the machine herald x you #the machine herald #the machine herald x reader #domestication of a feral scientist #domestic!viktor #papa!vik #papa!viktor

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her-devils-advocate · 4 months

Text

You and I were forever born to be free

♥. Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort

♥. pairings: The Dark Urge (Nell) x Astarion

♥. content warnings: Spoilers for Act 3 Durge quest and mentions of Astarion's quest ending.

♥. notes: Finally free of the urge, Nell decides it's time for a fresh start, starting with an impulsive haircut as the weight of the events crushes her. Astarion is by her side to help her every step of the way.

The title is taken from the English translation of Akuma no ko (child of evil) from AoT. ♥. Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52978714

♥. Word count: 1,835

He tangles his fingers in her raven hair, gliding them through the silky strands. Once his fingers would glide down to her lower back, intertwining with the waves left over from hours spent within a loose braid, only to now stop at her chin. He absentmindedly fingers the sharp edges, running the tips of his fingers over them repeatedly as he studies the half-elf before him.

Nell is fussing with his old hand mirror, the one he generously offered to hold for her, making sure to hold it at the correct angles to stave off her whinging. His offer only exists to keep her close as she plays with her hair while being held firmly in his arms, sitting comfortably on his lap.

She mimics his previous action and runs her fingers through her hair, fluffing it out while he watches her squirm.

Astarion lets out a small grumble, as much as he loves a good preening, she had been at it for hours now and his legs were beginning to fall asleep.

"You look lovely, darling."

Her now silver eyes light up at his words and Astarion wonders if he will ever get used to the change, no more looking into her obsidian eyes, tainted by the urges that tormented her. Nell turns her head to catch his gaze, confidence slowly showing on her face as she finally relaxes in his arms.

"You really think so? It's a big change, one that was made somewhat drastically, I must admit... It's okay if you dislike it." Her voice is quiet as she hesitates, the constant uncertainty that gripped her due to her urges still hangs on tight, despite her freedom.

"Did I say that I disliked it? It is very different, I will admit. But after what you've been through, with those violent tendencies and all, I think some change will help."

She abandons her reflection to focus on him entirely as she searches his eyes for a hint of a lie.

"It was just too much, Astarion." She pauses for a moment, he raises a single eyebrow as he watches her go to fidget with the ends of her braid, an old nervous habit that she will have to learn to go without now. She lets out a weak sigh when she realises before giving him a sheepish smile. "I still don't remember much about who I was previously and after what we witnessed in the temple, my old… home, I don't think I want to anymore."

The temple of Bhaal had given them all a shock, between its unwelcoming, oppressive atmosphere and the less-than-friendly members housed within, Nell and Astarion wanted to spend the least amount of time there as possible.

Only for nothing to go the way they had hoped, as expected.

Orin, Nell's niece of all things, had betrayed her. She had been the direct cause of her amnesia and in doing so, became the indirect cause of her liberation. Not that the vile woman deserves any claim to the struggles Nell has managed to overcome.

Astarion had also learnt that Nell, or rather "Lenore", had been quite the evil mastermind in her past. A fact he should find concerning, if he wasn't somewhat impressed.

Orin took great pleasure in taunting Nell, using her lack of memories against her.

She easily pinned the other woman in place with her words, dredging up memories of her own. Memories where Lenore had ruled the temple with a blood-red fist, the world's most dangerous being, situated beneath Baldur's Gate the whole time. It was clear that even then, Orin and Lenore never liked one another.

Despite the stark contrast between the two women's personalities, one a bloodthirsty maniac, the other an unsure woman who was afraid of her every move, there were certainly similarities regarding their appearances. The sharp jawline, the violent twist of the lip when the murderous mood struck, but even more striking was the long braid they both seemed to favour. Despite the difference in colour, one blonde and almost floor-length compared to Nell's mid-length braid as dark as night, one couldn't deny the relation.

Astarion could have sworn he heard Nell muttering about the similarities on their way out of the temple, hands covered in the blood of a relative she could hardly remember. She had been distant after that, hiding within her mind, even as Astarion gently guided her towards the bath to clean her, just like she had with him after the night he killed Cazador.

He was careful in his actions, treating her like glass and as if she would crack should he scrub too hard. A valid concern, considering she had just died a few hours prior.

After making sure she was alright enough to be left alone, he retreated to their shared sleeping area to retrieve one of his shirts for her to wear

It came as no surprise when he returned to find her hacking off her long raven locks with one of his daggers, the action frantic and purely driven by impulse, the need to see a visible change, alongside her newly acquired silver eyes.

A need he could relate to, having switched out his armour for a new set after gaining his own freedom.

He slowly approached her as if she were a frightened animal, not wanting to startle her and cause her to injure herself with the blade. He placed his hand over hers, stilling the action before taking it into his own and began straightening the lengths into a more acceptable style.

Not a word was shared between the pair as he worked. The silence was thick as she replayed the previous encounter in her mind, only broken by the soft sounds of hair being deftly sliced by his skilled hand.

A soft, warm hand on his bicep pulls him out of his thoughts and back into the present. Nell is staring at him, her eyes wide and uncertain, an expression he has seen on her face many times yet one he will never get used to.

Even if she no longer has that vacant, haunted look in her eyes.

“Ah, yes,” He clears his throat, attempting to mask the fact that he was lost in his thoughts, “I can’t blame you for that at all, my sweet. A new style every now and then never hurt anyone and I’m sure you will be happy for it when we get into a scuffle, now that you are less likely to find an attacker tugging on your hair.”

“I hope for my sake, I never feel any positive emotion over getting into ‘a scuffle’ ever again.” She gives him a lopsided smile, obviously trying to make him laugh for his sake, to clear the tense air around them after everything they have been through. “But I supposed you have a point…” “I always have a point, darling. Though I will admit that a part of me will miss your braid, shorter hair is a lot harder to tug when I'm behind you and-”

All he sees is a dark blur before he finds her small hands covering his mouth, instantly silencing him as she tries to conceal her giggles.

“Astarion!” Her voice is full of life as she playfully chastises him. She doesn’t miss the way his eyes soften, nor the warm, wet feeling against the palm of her hand. She pulls away to wipe her hand on his trousers, shooting him a half-hearted glare. “Did you just lick my hand?”

He gives her a shrug in reply before placing the mirror into her hands and moving to stand behind her, purposefully ignoring her confused expression. She holds the mirror up high, watching as strands of her hair begin to float behind her, overlapping with one another before he starts on the other section. Once he finally brings them together, he plucks the mirror out of her hands to show her the back.

Her heart swells with love as she realises what he has done, a small circle of braids now sit around the crown of her head.

“There, now you still have your signature braid. Just smaller and on the top of your head, rather than swishing around dramatically whenever you move.”

Tears well up within her eyes and for a brief moment and Astarion begins to panic, wondering if he went too far, too soon.

Any fear within his chest vanishes when she rises to the tips of her toes and presses a chaste kiss onto his lips, her warmth quickly sinking into his skin and heart.

“Thank you, Astarion. Not just for this, but for being by my side for all of it, even at times when I certainly didn’t deserve you or your support…” Nell pauses, her voice cracking with a myriad of emotions, unsure of where to even start. “You deserve someone who you don’t need to fear will hurt you in the night, I hope I can be that person now that I’ve been given this fresh start.”

Now it’s Astarion’s turn to silence her, choosing a more dignified way to do so by grabbing her cheeks and silencing her with a deep kiss. He smirks into the kiss when he hears her muffled sigh, her hand reaching up to hold onto his arm to stabilise herself in the process.

“I believe we’ve had this conversation before, love.” He frowns slightly, silently mulling over the words to reassure her. He was never the best with words and she was never the best at believing them. At least now they have the chance to learn together.

His frown fades as he hears her chuckle, “Yeah, a few times now… I just, I don’t know, I have so much guilt. A lot of it is deserved.”

“Enough of that, isn’t that what your fresh start is for? Besides, I have just as many things to thank you for.

“I have never feared you, Nell. Yes, I feared what would happen to you, many times, in fact. But never the woman behind the urges, only how the woman behind them would react once she was back in control. I’m glad that is a fear both of us can put to rest now that it’s over. “You have fretted for far too long, Nell. It’s time to start enjoying life, rather than fearing it. I know I’m not exactly one to talk, but isn’t that what makes us such a charming pair, eh? We can grow together.”

He places his hands on either side of her face, angling her head up to look at him. Her steel eyes shine with tears, the candlelight glittering within them. He gently rubs his thumb across her lower eye, catching a stray tear as she simply stares at him.

They stay like that for a moment, simply watching one another before she buries her face into his chest, clinging onto him as if he were a lifeline.

“I would like that, dear heart.”

#♥. writing #♥. Nell #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #astarion x dark urge #astarion x tav #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate oc #the dark urge

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arkangel9 · 3 months

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Literally another war 2019 headcanon sorta fic (Yea no i aint over it yet)(nsfw maybe?)

the timing's fucked, lets pretend after jai jai shiv sankar there's LIKE 1 year till ilyasi and my boy dying(hater's gon say khalid died but NAH)

context:so they're on a mission(who doesnt love mission sex.)kabir now trusts khalid more. they're closer. #possessivekabir

Khalid and Kabir have been assigned a two man mission. Not that uncommon since the men's skillsets complimented each other and Khalid was literally willing to throw away his life for the Major.

What the issue was, was the nature of the mission .Their goal this time was to lure a certain terrorism funding businessman. The man was becoming one hell of a pain and the higher ups wanted him gone.

after initial assessment it was found that the man had a penchant for the same sex. This fact was not publicized so the agents went through a fair bit of trouble to ascertain this. the man occasionally did take the odd woman home, however the agents managed to establish contact with one such call girl and she mentioned that the man behaved oddly and had weird requests such as that she put on a loose men's shirt and that he seemed obsessed with her cropped hair.

The intelligence gathered a portfolio of all the men the business man had taken to his bed however they were having a hard time figuring out what the man's type was. He seemed to like handsome younger men but beyond that there was not much of a similarity among the boys . A couple of tips from their spies and intel from media pointed that the man was often found at certain high end casinos in Las Vegas

The strike team was decided to be kept small and kabir and khalid were chosen to execute the mission. Agents would be there to support them along the way but in the crucial moments, the two would have to rely on each other.

3 months later

Kabir and Khalid landed in las vegas 1 week apart from each other so as to not arouse suspicion. Khalid who arrived second checks into his hotel. Kabir is in the hotel right next to his. They meet at the decided rendezvous spot.The hotels shared a common pool, 2 men meeting or chatting at such a spot would be ignored. Khalid changes into his swim trunks and heads off towards the pool with a towel slung over his shoulders. The poolside bar was his destination.

He checks his watch to reassure himself that he isnt late. He expected multiple things as he enters the pool area but what he definately did not expect was Kabir to be sitting at the bar in hawaiian swim shorts that barely did anything to hide the powerful muscles of his thighs or the short sleeved shirt with half of its buttons undone exposing strong collar bones and firm abs. The sunglasses covering the major's eyes just made him look even more mysterious. A few half naked girls had already surrounded Kabir.

Why am i getting annoyed at that

As he moves closer, the major's face tilts to face his direction. although he cannot see the older man's eyes. He can feel his gaze raking over his body. Suddenly Khalid feels stupid about his choice of wearing just simple navy swim trunks. He should've worn a shirt over it.

Kabir dismisses the girls with a friendly wave here and a pretty smile there and discreetly motions to Khalid to occupy the seat next to him. Khalid seats himself on the nearest barstool and flips over the menu and orders himself a Shirley Temple earning him a snort from his senior. Kabir motions the bartender to bring another glass of whatever he seemed to be having earlier. The two men finish their drinks and head off in their own directions.

Now to the unassuming eye this may seem like an unnecessary move but the meeting served 2 purposes

it allowed the agents to ensure the other was well and had reached destination

it allowed kabir to pass khalid a tiny scroll containing the name of the casino they would meet up tonight

Khalid discreetly shoves the paper into the compartment in the back of his waterproof watch and goes to take a swim. It would be odd if he didnt . An agent's job is always to never attract any attention than necessary onto themselves. A few women did flirt with him in the pool and quite a few propositioned something more. Khalid however politely turns them all down saying he was already committed to his girlfriend of 3 years. Kabir would've rolled his eyes at the excuse. Khalid however cannot shake the feeling of being watched but he just puts it off as his childhood anxiety resurfacing. He towels himself dry and goes back to his room to read the paper. it contained two words and a time.

Lapis Lazuli. 1900 hours

Khalid tosses the paper into a nearby glass of water. the paper dissolves instantly. He has around 4 hours to waste until he needs to start getting ready. He decides to read up once more upon the target and locate the casino

4hours later , khalid has consumed all of the information available on the target

Name: Arfik Shah Age: 41 Physical description 5'11 Blonde hair Blue eyes Has a mole under his right ear Occupation: Head of operations of Minik.inc networth: 2 billion dollars Target is seen to frequent casino's. Highly allergic to mango.

He tears up the papers and tosses them into the fireplace. With a sigh Khalid gets up to start dressing. Since the agency could not figure out the target's type , khalid and kabir both decided to approach the man and moving the plan forward based on the results. Khalid dresses up in a tight fitting shirt with sleeves rolled upto his elbowes and the top 3 buttons unbuttoned. The pants hugged his legs in an almost uncomfortable way. Usually khalid did not prefer wearing such tights clothes and opted for more softer looser well worn cotton or fleece but the job required this.

He finishes off the outfit with some perfume and styles his hair so that it makes him look younger. He heads to the casino switching cabs twice so as to cover his tracks. On reaching the casino, Khalid scans the area to locate his superior. A flash of azure catches his eye and he notices Kabir in a striking blue suit was sitting on one of the plush sofa's with a glass of whiskey in his right hand. His attention was focused on the man sitting opposite him, their target. Arfik Shah was often classified as a lady killer with his blonde hair and striking eyes. The man was born as son to a Arab father and a German Supermodal mother. He casually walks by them on his way to the nearest bar, he feels a set of eyes following him and assumed that his superior had noted his arrival. Khalid takes a seat at the barstool and orders a non alcoholic daiquiri. He vaguely notes a movement on his right side and decides to ignore whichever gentleman or lady had decided to take a seat beside him. He was startled however when the stranger lets out a husky chuckle

'Ignoring me right after you flaunted that tight ass darling?'

Khalid twists his frame to come face to face with none other than Arfik Shah. The man was looking at khalid like he was a piece of meat

'you know usually I like guys who play a little hard to get but tonight? i think i just want a pliant little puppy'

Khalid blushes a little at the implication. The man seems to take that as a positive sign and places a hand on Khalid's thigh.

How about we get out of here. I've got a room on the 12th floor. We could go and have some 'fun'.

The last part is whispered into Khalid's ear and punctuated with a lick to the shell of his ear.He can smell the man's deep expensive cologne as he leans over, Khalid shakes out a small nod and the man shoots him a dazzling grin. They move towards the elevator, the man guides him using a hand on the small of his back. The elevator for VIPs is empty. The man slides the hand on the small of Khalid's waist upwards until he reaches his neck. He uses the grip to twist Khalid's face towards his and kisses him passionately. Khalid jerks in surprise but the man just chuckles at that and moves his lips onto Khalid's neck sucking a bruise under the strong jaw bones. Khalid didn't know how long he could do this before the game was up. He prayed to God that the major would be waiting for them and this whole matter would end within the next 15 minutes. The plan was that whoever would get chosen would distract the target while the other sneaked into the apartment and awaited them.

They reach the apartment and the man shoves him in before closing the door behind him. The man shucks off his jacket and grabs onto Khalid's waist with a bruising grip.

I want that pretty ass naked and presented on my bed within the next 5 minutes.

Khalid cursed internally. He tried to stall. He pretended like he was having difficulty in removing the buttons to his shirt however the target was having none of it. Khalid was manhandled onto the bed and Arfik loomed over him.

Need some help with your clothes baby?

And proceeded to tear the shirt. Buttons flew in every direction. The next thing Khalid sees is Kabir appearing beside Arfik and holding a cloth over his nose. Arfik struggles but his strength is no match for the trained agent. Kabir pushes Arfik to the ground and signals Khalid to help . Khalid quickly moves over helps Kabir to lock the flailing man's limbs. Within the next 5 minutes, the man had gone still. Kabir uses a gloved hand to check the pulse and gives a small nod towards Khalid.

The cloth contained higly concentrated mango essence . The Intelligence planned to stage this as a hotel mishap rather than an assassination.

The two agents start moving to make the crime scene clean. They remove the buttons and move the victim onto the bed. They light a candle with mango essence as an ingredient to cover their tracks. At 11 pm, both agents have exited the building through different exits. They had already checked out of their previous hotels to ensure security. The plan was for them to rent a hotel in the outskirts of the city together until the flight scheduled to take them back to India landed.

Pt 2 will be up soon haha

#hrithik roshan #kabir x khalid #khalbir #khalid rahmani #tiger shroff #war 2019 #possesivekabir #theyweregayyourhonour

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church-of-lilith · 11 months

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Honestly what does give me a little comfort in kind of a messed up way is the fact that us sapphics aren't exactly alone-they pretty much screwed over EVERY minority lmao: Nate's storyline wasn't really explored and mostly centered around his relationship with Jade, Keeley could have had a whole fish out of water storyline like Ted about winning over her coworkers but instead the focused on her relationship drama, completely wasted Edwin and Shandy's potential for cheap laughs, gave a half assed attempt at writing Sam's storyline only to call him literally getting hate crimed a "big whoop" and never address it again, never actually giving Dani a storyline, like the list goes on and on XD its honestly kind of impressive how they managed to lowkey tear down their entire legacy Omg if you can edit your reddit post you should also mention how the only other sapphic character on the entire show is that creepy dog breeder..

This is so true. It feels like they dropped the ball for every single minority character and the longer you think about it the worse it gets.

Let’s talk Nate for a second because his whole storyline really baffles me. They had him coaching at Westham, and then they had him quit (or was he fired?) from Westham OFF SCREEN? And then suddenly an episode later he’s back as the assistant kitman for Richmond? I’ll never understand why these writers were so dead set on him coming back to Richmond, all so he could just fade into the background. And while I do believe the whole kit man decision was a temporary one, and that going forward they made him a coach again, I don’t like the implication that he worked through his issues this whole season to just end up back where he was. There’s no reason Nate couldn’t have gone off and gotten another coaching job at another team! He’s still the Wonder Kid, clearly has mad skills and credibility, you can’t tell me there isn’t a team who would have wanted him! I understand he had to return to Richmond briefly to have closure and make his apologies, but then he could’ve gone off to coach elsewhere and continued to spread the Lasso Way and change the lives of other people! We didn’t need him at Richmond when basically all the work has already been done. I wish they would’ve given me any indication that he’d really been impacted by this whole arc he went through & then gone off to be the change he wanted to see in the world.

Keeley’s whole storyline being about Jack & the business was such a waste of Juno Temple’s amazing acting, and an underutilization of the fan favorite character we know and love. Most everything about her seemed so off this season? And as you pointed out, she really didn’t even become Miss Independent until the very end when Rebecca took over financing and she was able to make decisions about her own business finally. I would’ve much rather they had Rebecca funding it from the start (or at least earlier in the season) so we could have seen her adventures and misadventures through running her own company that didn’t have anything to do with her messy, exploitative relationship with Jack.

The way I feel about them trying to tackle racism with Sam’s storyline is the same way I feel about them trying to tackle homophobia with Colin’s. If you’re gonna half ass it, don’t do it at all. And they certainly didn’t put half the amount of time and effort they needed to into thinking up how to properly handle Sam’s storyline. We went through the whole hate crime that was never addressed again. And then we had this big problem with Edwin in the final episodes where he was like “I’m going to destroy your entire life and you’ll never make money with the restaurant and you’ll never play for the National team.” And then that was just NEVER addressed again?? Not even a throwaway line about Rebecca taking care of it or something?? He was suddenly playing on the Team and the only explanation we were given from Brendan during the AMA was that it was due to ‘national outcry’ like give me a break. Not to mention we never saw Simi again and so we never got to see if she and Sam ended up together. We were sort of just left to infer that everything worked out for Sam, and that just doesn’t work for me.

Poor Dani Rojas was doomed to be nothing more than a joke from the very start. He deserved more, but at the same time I’m almost glad they didn’t give him more because the storylines this season were awful.

So yeah, feels like all of the minorities on the show lost. I don’t know how the writers managed to do this in so little time, but you’re right it is really impressive.

#thanks anon!#how did every character manage to lose #ted lasso #nathan shelley #nate shelley #keeley jones #jack x keeley #sam obisanya #colin hughes #dani rojas

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perpetuelledaydreaming · 2 years

Text

Cruel intentions | chapter nine

summary: you really think spiderman has a lonewolf persona until he's trying to make chit-chat. you liked his arms too.

warnings: violence, blood

authors note: I WANT TO GIVE A SPECIAL THANKS TO ANOTHER SUPPORTER ON KO-FI!!!! x4 like all the support here has make my day.

listen to: Satellite -Harry Styles (playlist here)

word count: 1.2 k (longer chapters after this one)

series masterlist + read the next chapter early on my ko-fi!!

You didn’t know much about Spiderman.

You were aware that Tony had worked with him in something and that he was making headlines left and right when you first woke up from your coma. If you were extremely honest, you never were too interested in him, maybe it was because he was associated with your father who had betrayed you, maybe it was the fact that he came up while you had to grief your Avenger persona, maybe it was the fact that after losing the meaning you had assigned to your life you saw another superhero come up, one that apparently had its own superpowers, one that, unlike you, could always be a hero. Maybe you simply resented him because of that, maybe you were too broken to actually acknowledge his existence or even be the slightest interested.

Moreover, you never overlapped. You’d seen him in action but you were too busy trying to act as a civilian and he never arrived at your fights, he focused mainly in Queens; tonight was your first night in his territory you realized as you saw him webbing the guy that had been shooting at you in a moment.

You didn’t lose a second, you quickly tried to run back as fast as you could towards where the girls were as you held your stomach. The men were still down and mostly unconscious when you got there, the girls were still on the container huddled together as they watched the men groaning, they were too scared to go out, they must’ve been thinking that the other two men were out there.

“Hey, come,” you motioned to them and they followed you as you walked to the nearest road. You quickly tapped the earpiece on your right ear twice. “HAPPY, bring the car over and take them to the hospital as soon as possible, and-” you turned to the containers and saw Spiderman dragging the men together and webbing them up, you sighed. “And call the police and medical assistance we left the guys here,”

You turned to the girls and you tap again your temple to see if any had major injuries but other than being tased multiple times and dehydrated, they seemed to be okay in general, at least physically. The car arrived faster than you expected it and it fits all the girls, HAPPY drove it and was already aware of the closest hospital.

“Thank you,” the last girl muttered, she must’ve been in her early twenties. She held your hand softly and you froze.

You wondered how much pain had she gone through, how her life would change after this, how maybe you could’ve helped her sooner and you hated yourself for it because you couldn’t manage to get to all of them sooner, you couldn’t bring all the system down at least not yet.

“You are safe,” you replied softly and she smiled.

You close the door softly after that and you watched the car leaving, HAPPY would indicate to them where to go and what to do, you always remained in the shadows for the safety of the mission.

Just apparently as Spiderman who was nowhere to be seen when you returned to the check on the assholes. They were in pain and all huddled together by a web and you smirked at their expressions, their mouths covered in webs too but their eyes let you know this much: they truly were scared of you or hated you.

Then, you glanced at the other containers slowly, checking if he wasn’t there anymore. Maybe now you could take off your mask and go home to treat the bullshit wound on your gut. Spiderman seemed like the lonely type, the one that didn’t work well in teams and you appreciated that Lonewolf persona since it made your life a lot easier.

At least that’s what you thought.

“Hey,” he muttered as he landed next to you with a flip.

You flinch at his sudden movements and you gave a step back. “Jesus, you scared me,” you grumbled as you rolled your eyes.

“That was impressive,” he said softly and you shook your head. Lone wolf, you thought.

The Lone wolf was actually trying to make chit-chat, he was waiting for you to answer, he just stood there, basically twiddling his thumbs. Unaware, maybe, that you were watching him as if he was a zoo exhibit.

He was odd, definitely odd but at least nothing that you were really concerned about.

“Thank you,” you replied softly before you started to walk away, but he spoke once more.

“So, what should I call you?” he asked.

You snorted at the question. “You shouldn’t call me anything,” you replied honestly as you turned your head to the side, not fully willing to answer that. “I wasn’t here,” you finished.

“But you were,”

What made you turn around. Didn’t he get it? You thought as Spiderman watched you like he was a spooked deer. Slow, stunted movements as he shifted on his feet, waiting for you to answer something, for you to signal something, any information.

You wondered why he cared so much.

“I’m going now,” you replied but you turned around faster than you’d like and a sharp ripple ran from your wound to your whole body.

You gasped suddenly, your hand quickly held your stomach. You winced as you felt like whatever had been holding your intestines at the moment had moved, now just the deep gash wound on your stomach had come undone. Your chest rose and fell with slightly stronger takes of oxygen in an attempt to diminish the hurt, but at least it made nothing for you as you felt your suit getting wet.

You tried to give another step but suddenly you felt so heavy and lightheaded at the same time, you swayed slightly as Spiderman mumbled a soft, “Whoa,” and in no time he was closer to you, holding you firmly by the shoulders. You didn’t even hear the webs that carried him there or realized how fast he could get next to you.

“Are you okay?”

“I- I feel,” you mumbled, wincing at the aching pain slowly spreading through your body, your eyes seemed a little bit out of focus and then you felt the gurgling feeling on your throat.

You couldn’t stop it, the blood coming out of you like a tsunami as you collapsed, your knees gave out and Spiderman gasped as he held you while your body spasmed as you threw out an enormous amount of blood. You were gagging as you felt the blood trickling through your nose and your body trembled as you continued to throw up. The blood-gurgling sound filled the space and you were sure that you had stained the red and black suit of Spiderman, but either way, he held you through it.

As soon as you finished, you felt your head lolling slightly to the side as you groaned with the pain but Spiderman wasted no time, he quickly pulled you into his chest, his suit covered in blood too as he adjusted you into a more comfortable position. You felt held, so held in his arms as your head leaned into the crook of his neck while you whimpered in pain, tears started to roll down your eyes as he shushed you softly.

“It’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay,” he muttered before your world turned dark.

***

author's note: i'm really excited for the next few chapters because like this night and writing about this night it's like ugh come on end but it's going to definitely end like chapter 10 but I can't wait for you to read like chapter 12? yeah but thank you so much for everyone being so nice and reading this!! and in KO-FI TOO I LOVE YOU ALL. as always lmk what you think, I love to read your theories and thoughts!!

taglist: @walkintheprk @jeonzll @hoetel-manager @pbeckn26 @novaspietro @s-we-e-t-t-ea @spideys-world @ayoelouise

***

feedback is always welcomed

help me with my laptop or buy me a coffee? thank youuu

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maris-medley · 8 months

Text

Messing With Remnant: BTC AU Bit - Part 3/3

Page Count: 11

Word Count: 1,743

Author’s Note: OH MY GOD HI HELLO

I didn’t expect to get the last part out this fast AND I DIDN’T EXPECT IT TO END UP SO MUCH LONGER THAN THE OTHER TWO WHAT THE HECK

I meant it when I said this AU (and BTC Springtrap) has been ROTTING my brain out. Truly, I can’t stop thinking about it (and Springtrap) and I feel like I’m going crazy DID I MENTION SPRINGTRAP /lh

Anyways uhhhh Springtrap caring for someone besides Tom. Yeah. :3

He will make no other exceptions. 🫶

ALSO TOM’S IN THIS PART YIPPEEE

As always, BTC and its characters all belong to @skeletoninthemelonland !! River is like the only part of any of this who is actually of my own creation lmao.

Anyways enjoy!!!

***

She awoke, and without even a moment to process, she was met with Springtrap gripping her shoulders and shaking her sporadically. He was yelling for her to wake up, over and over, as if that would help anything.

River could barely get a word out for the first couple of seconds before she finally managed, “ALRIGHT ALREADY! I’M UP, YOU IDIOT!”

Springtrap paused suddenly, dumbfounded. “Oh…”

He awkwardly let go of her shoulders, allowing her to sit up on her own. She winced, holding her head in one hand while groaning to herself. How long had she been asleep?

Then again, she was a bit more concerned that this was all that happened, after everything.

She finally took a better look at her surroundings again—she was in what… resembled a workshop; it was difficult to tell whether that was what it was meant to be, or if it was simply a horribly cluttered bedroom.

“What… happened?” River took another quick scan of the room. After all, surely there was something in here that could indicate just how much time had passed.

Springtrap fell back into a swivel chair, sighing into a hand he was now using to cover his face again. He rapidly thumped one foot up and down as he spoke. “I’ll tell you what happened.”

The thumping ceased, and he suddenly leaned forward with a deepened scowl. “I SPECIFICALLY TOLD YOU NOT TO TOUCH SOMETHING THAT COULD HARM YOU AND YOU CLAMPED ONTO IT LIKE A BLOODY STAPLER!!”

“Ohhh, yeah!” River said, holding a finger up. “‘Cause you’re a liar!”

“What I find most astonishing,” Springtrap continued, waving one hand around. “Is the fact that you’re only experiencing a headache after all of that, let alone still alive!”

“Does me being here even count as being alive?”

Springtrap’s eyebrows raised, but he quickly shook his head, as if to dismiss his own thoughts. “That’s not the point!”

“So,” River said, rubbing her temples. “How long was I even out?”

“An hour and a half or so,” he replied, sighing to himself yet again. “You fainted, so I had to get Tom to find you… I don’t know, something that could be of use. No one exactly gets sick here, so neither of us were really sure what to do.”

“Eh, I’ll be fine. ‘Felt more like I was taking a nap than anythin’ else.”

“YOU WERE ESSENTIALLY STRUCK BY LIGHTNING,” Springtrap shouted again, standing back up.

“Yeah, well, I almost-died a bunch ‘o times before I finally bit it—that’s one of the few things I remember—so I can’t say I’m all that surprised.”

River took up a pocket athame with a small pentacle charm tied to the handle, then continued as she cut off a loose piece of thread from her cape: “‘Dunno which one, but there’s some god out there who really doesn’t want me to die yet.”

She chuckled lightly to herself. Springtrap raised an eyebrow at her, opened his mouth as if he were about to speak, but was instantly cut off when Tom burst in holding the girl’s phone, among two bowls of… what River thought might look like soup. She wasn’t too sure.

“Oh! You’re awake!” Tom exclaimed with a relieved grin.

“Tom,” Springtrap said, gripping the sides of his cape. “I told you to knock. You’re not allowed in here.”

“Ignore him,” Tom said to River, waving Springtrap off completely. “Here!”

He handed her the two bowls, both containing relatively the same color of soup… if it even was soup.

“None of us really know how to cook,” he admitted with a nervous-sounding giggle. “But I remembered how some people give people soup when they’re sick! So we were able to scrape some stuff together and try to make it! I suppose it’s meant to help an upset tummy!”

“...Oh,” River said, glancing between Tom and the bowls. Springtrap had crossed his arms, grumbling to himself and shaking his head.

She couldn’t remember for certain, but River got the feeling that it had been quite a while since anyone dedicated that kind of time or effort to her. Not that she could remember who would have or why, regardless.

But… it made her happy.

“Wooahhh!” Tom suddenly mused. “You’re smiling! I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you do that not at someone’s expense!”

River blinked a couple of times, then furrowed her eyebrows as she looked off to the side. “Jeez, of course I smile.”

“Springtrap made one of those, y’know!”

“I DID NOT,” he yelled from the other side of the room, (not that it was a very big one). He clutched the hood of his cape and angrily threw it over his head.

“Watch her,” he commanded, pointing towards River. “I’m getting back to work. Make sure she doesn’t try following me.”

Tom and River snickered. River spooned a bit of her first bowl. “That hurts,” she said sarcastically. “You already think I’m gonna cause trouble? I’m the bed-ridden one, here!”

“Don’t entertain it…” he mumbled to himself before finally heading off.

“I know you find it funny,” Tom said once the two were sure Springtrap was far enough away not to overhear. “But I hope he never actually hurts your feelings or anything! He just likes to act all grumpy all the time.”

“Aren’t ‘like’ and ‘grumpy’ antonyms?” River said before finally taking a sip from one of the soup bowls. In all honesty, it tasted somewhat like motor oil smelled. She was able to ignore it though—she hadn’t had a single bite to eat since Springtrap and Tom found her there a few days prior.

“Well, yeah,” Tom admitted. “I just mean ‘cause he gets weirded out when people are nice to him for whatever reason. So he tries to scare them away.”

“I caught onto that last part pretty fast.” She shrugged as she took another spoonful. “Anyway, you didn’t leave too many of the game’s tabs open, did ya?”

“Nah.” He paused, then asked: “How’d you manage to get..- I mean, I can’t usually hold stuff… how’d you do that?”

“Oh, it was pretty easy,” River said, picking her phone up and sliding her athame behind her. “Y’know that arcade machine you nap in a lot?”

Tom nodded, raising a brow.

“I kinda just put some cute stuff as decoration on top of it like how I used to decorate altars, and then put my phone in the middle so you could pick it up.”

“That’s why there was a chair next to my nap spot!!”

River’s smile stiffened. She didn’t exactly have any sort of anger issues, but her emotions were often difficult to contain.

“That still doesn’t really explain it though,” Tom said, almost appearing even more perplexed than before. “How does all that even make a difference?”

“It’s… complicated.” River tossed her gaze to the side again, awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck.

“Well, either way,” he shrugged. “It’s amazing!”

Then, he gasped suddenly, jaw dropping about as far as it could go. “Wait! I can eat cake now!!” He squealed, kicking his feet around mid-air. “This is the best day ever!!”

River chuckled lightly, smiling faintly without fully realizing such. “Just lemme know if you find some, and I’ll get it for ya.”

Tom nodded eagerly, though after another few seconds had passed, his joyful expression faded, resembling something that looked more like concern.

“What even happened while you and him were out?” he asked, fidgeting. “He said you had a stomach ache, but you were asleep, and he looked super worried…”

“Uhh..”

River wasn’t actually sure how much she should tell him; she didn’t care one way or the other what Springtrap would say in a situation like this, but she did worry that Tom would be upset with him if he knew it involved remnant, and she… well, she was confused at herself for being uncomfortable with the idea of all the blame being pinned on him when she was the one who was going out of her way to irritate him.

Normally, framing people came as naturally as breathing to her.

“It was nothing really bad,” she lied immediately, then added, “I just-... seeing my own sick doesn’t exactly help my stomach. That’s all. I’m also just a really heavy sleeper.”

“You sure..?” Tom tilted his head to the side.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I’m fine. I just need some tylenol or somethin’.”

“Ty… what?”

“Nevermind… forget I asked.”

Within another couple of minutes, Springtrap finally re-entered the room. But River’s eyes immediately landed on the huge brown bag he was holding at his side. Based on the jangling it made with each movement, she assumed it was just more spare parts.

“Ya think ya got enough of those?” River said with a raised brow and a smirk.

“Hush,” Springtrap replied, then turned to Tom. “I’m impressed you two didn’t start going through my things the second I left.”

“Well, it’s kinda hard for me to do that anyway,” Tom chuckled awkwardly.

“Besides,” River cut in. “It’s too much work to snoop when you’ve got all those parts piled on top ‘o your stuff.”

“Thrilled to see you’re getting better already,” Springtrap growled through gritted teeth, one eye twitching.

“Well, then!” Tom exclaimed. “I’m gonna go play more games!”

He and River waved their good-byes. Springtrap just gave a quick nod in his direction as he left, before turning his attention back to River.

“You didn’t say anything to him,” he asked abruptly. “Did you?”

River shook her head. “I would’ve lied either way, so…”

Springtrap eyed her for a moment before pivoting for his desk. “Perhaps you are sick.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Lying doesn’t seem to be a very common occurrence for you,” he said simply, sitting back down in his chair. “So it’s rather surprising that I didn’t even have to ask you to do so.”

She said nothing in response; she didn’t exactly have an explanation to give him, so she figured there wasn’t much of a point in saying anything at all.

Springtrap’s ear twitched in the silence, and he slowly turned his head to peer at her from over his shoulder. River was pointlessly fidgeting with the charm on her athame. He glanced at it, and then back at her.

“...Are you really alright?”

River hesitated. “You’re gonna hafta specify.”

Springtrap narrowed his eyes, then turned back to his project without another word.

***

#the ending.#yeah..#neither of them are alright..#yeah they don’t mean physical health.#yeaahh sorry.#also figured I’d start linking the main songs I use to write these >:)#different song for a different chapter usually #behind the codes #btc #btc springtrap #behind the codes springtrap #behind the codes springtrap.

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pertinax--loculos · 4 months

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And now, because I'm feeling miserable chaotic as fuck, after just posting some banners for Vibes WIP earlier this arvo, I'm going to post a rewritten version of the first scene of Absent That Night.

Note that this is just a first pass, so even those it's technically ~draft two~ there still may be typos, etc etc.

But regardless! I hope you enjoy. ^_^ Any feedback is welcome -- particularly things like would you like to read on, does this make sense, do you have any questions that aren't plot related? (I'm super close to and familiar with this WIP, so I sometimes forget what the reader would and wouldn't know, and I'm not sure if foreshadowing etc would come across correctly.)

Anyway, it's approximately 2.5k words, so really if you read it at all I love you for it. <3

Latrell stared at the blank space on the wall, incensed. It used to host a painting. Much like the sections of wall to his left and right, in fact. Though those paintings were still there. Of course. Voices drifted down the long featureless corridor from his right. “I just don’t understand.” Shrill, piercing, unbelievably loud. A woman accustomed to getting her own way. “We pay all this money, and that is supposed to protect us from situations like these, and now you’re telling me that it doesn’t?” Latrell narrowed his eyes until the wall in front of him almost disappeared. “I understand your frustration, ma’am.” Albie’s voice was low, soothing, a stark contrast. Ever the professional. “And you are correct, your contract with LEAH does guarantee swift retrieval of all listed items. However, the item in question was not on the list. Surely you understand how that might change the situation.” Latrell smiled to himself and moved down the corridor, away from the woman’s increasingly hysterical objections.

Habitually, he dipped mental fingers into the Orn, the waterlike texture of his flow shimmering in his mind’s eye. A few signatures jumped out at him, the paintings lining the corridor. Not the one that was missing. He’d never touched that one before, never even seen it, hadn’t had a chance to familiarise himself. Absolutely no chance of tracking its location.

He blinked, moving away from the Orn and back into the physical world.

The corridor was lined on both sides, no rhyme or reason to the order of the artwork, no overarching theme. The only thing the pieces had in common was their price. The corridor was an exhibition of wealth, not of passion.

At this end it opened up into a large, airy living space, made to seem even larger by the wall of windows directly opposite. They looked out over the centre of the city, all steel and glass and whitewashed concrete. Far off in the distance, the dark line of the waterfront, the ocean stretching to the horizon.

“Nice view,” Albie said from his elbow.

Latrell glanced at her. “You manage to calm Mrs. Bishop down?”

“Calm might be too strong a word.” Albie rolled her eyes. “I think I’ve talked her down from a lawsuit. And she’s going to let us actually do our jobs, so that’s something.”

“It sure is.”

“Oh, c’mon, you know you love me.”

She patted his shoulder, the bad one, and Latrell had to hide his flinch. Albie probably wouldn’t have noticed anyway; she stepped further into the living area, spinning in a slow circle as she took it in. “Got anything yet?”

“Besides the obvious? No.” Latrell rubbed at an eye under his glasses, a headache beginning to tug at his temples. “Honestly I don’t even think there’s any point searching.”

“Naw, don’t be like that. It’s not our job. Besides, he’s gotta make a mistake eventually. Today might be our lucky day.”

Latrell seriously doubted it, but he moved next to her to examine the table.

It was an ostentatious piece of furniture if he’d ever seen one. Swirling patterns from the original tree paired with spaces of black and clear resin, sitting on legs that seemed to Latrell at best impractical and at worst dangerous for the tens of thousands of dollars he was sure the tabletop cost.

Not that it would be worth that now.

Etched directly into the resin — deep enough that it hit the centuries-old wood in some places, small shavings dusting the surface around the gouges — was a series of lines, swirling around each other. An artwork in itself, really, evocative of water, or perhaps a representation of wind. Latrell couldn’t look at it without thinking of his flow. And in the centre, a single word.

Nox

Latrell brushed his gloved fingers over the edge of the carvings. They were deep yet smooth, nothing rushed or crude about them. Each line a separate groove. Not made with anything as pedestrian as a knife. Perhaps a hammer and chisel. A specialised instrument, at the very least.

“He’s getting bolder.” Albie stalked around the table as if to view the signature from every angle. “This is bigger than anything else we’ve seen.”

“More space to work with, maybe. Not often the most expensive item in a room is a table.” Latrell traced the sharp angles of the ‘N’. “Did the Bishops tell you where they were last night?”

“Dinner at the Station House, then apparently they went to a friend’s house to kick on. No plan to stay the night, but that’s what ended up happened. Got home about three hours ago, took them an hour to discover the theft.”

Surprising it was that fast. The apartment was big enough they could’ve spent days inside without visiting every room.

“Do they often stay out all night after a dinner?”

Albie was at the head of the table, arms crossed. “Took a bit of finagling, but I reckon so, yeah. Mrs. Bishop wouldn’t admit it but the way she talked gives me the impression it’s not an uncommon occurrence.”

“So no way to be certain they wouldn’t return, but the odds were pretty good.” Latrell massaged his temple with two fingers. “Still, he wouldn’t leave anything to chance. Would’ve gotten in early. Security cameras?”

The hopeful uptick in his voice made Albie smile. “Nothing.”

“I fucking hate this guy.”

“Oh, I know.” Albie’s voice was teasing, but there was a note of censure behind it. Latrell kept his eyes on the table so she wouldn’t see his wince.

Fucking Nox. The man had been a thorn in Latrell’s side for nearly three years, and that thorn was quickly turning into an entire branch.

LEAH’s Artefact Recovery Division served the clients who could afford to have their most valuable pieces insured with something more than money. Every Agent assigned to the unit had an affinity for object tracking; a location on the Orn that allowed them to see, touch, familiarise themselves with a certain item, and then use the Orn to find it. Latrell had been assigned to the ARD eight years ago, a consolation prize after an on-the-job injury had caused the police to fire him. He’d met Albie about twelve months later, and they’d been partnered six months after that.

Most of the time an ARD Agent’s job was fairly simple. If a thief managed to bypass the comprehensive security systems a LEAH client could afford, they tended to know which piece would get them the most on the black market. Unfortunately for them, so did the Agents, so the pieces were already listed and a part of an Agent’s repertoire. A brief look at what item was missing and the relevant Agent briefly checking out the Orn would usually locate the piece.

Usually. Nox was a different story.

He had an uncanny ability to target only those items that Agents hadn’t yet had a chance to itemise. Generally new acquisitions, often those on the books to be added to a client’s list within the next few days. It was specific enough that there’d been talk of Nox having some inside source.

Latrell wasn’t sure that was true. But it was getting to the point that he’d have to agree or figure out a more compelling theory soon.

Because the last six pieces that Nox had stolen — the last six households where he’d taken something and then destroyed something else, picking a room and defacing the most expensive item to leave his signature and no doubt of who it was that had committed the theft — had all been on Latrell’s register.

Once was an anomaly. Twice was coincidence. Three times was a pattern. Six times got people asking questions.

The sharp trill of Latrell’s phone cut through his musing. He answered it without looking at the screen. “Latrell.”

“Good morning, Agent,” a voice purred in his ear. Male. Smooth. Smug. “Enjoying yourself, I trust?”

“Who is this?” Latrell snapped. Albie raised an eyebrow, and he held up a hand. The voice was utterly unfamiliar, which raised a host of problems, chief among which was— “How did you get this number?”

“I have resources.” The man managed to convey the wave of his hand with the tone of his voice. “I should think you would know this by now.”

“Look, whoever you think I am, you’re mistaken. You’ve clearly got the wrong number, and I’m busy right now, so—”

“Forgive me. I thought you’d pardon the intrusion, given that it’s my handiwork you’re currently admiring.”

“What?” Latrell spun. Pointless. There was no one else in the room. “Fuck off. You think I’m going to fall for that?”

A chuckle in his ear, silky and deep. Whoever it was, they had a hell of a voice for radio. “Is it really that improbable that I would contact you, Agent Latrell?”

Latrell stopped.

Forced his mind back into its box. There was any number of reason the caller would know his name. No need to get ahead of himself. No reason to let his thoughts careen out of control down paths that made no sense—

“Have you seen the Michelson, by the way? It truly is a stunning piece. They say his use of colour is unrivalled.”

Latrell’s heart tripped. Stumbled. Caught its balance at a speed that felt unhealthy. They hadn’t known which piece had been stolen until they arrived. That information hadn’t been publicised. It hadn’t even been passed along to LEAH yet.

“Latrell,” Albie said quietly.

He waved in her direction again. Turned away. “Okay, so you’ve managed to find out some information. Congrats. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna believe—”

“Agent,” the man cut in again, “If you examine the table from the end closest to the couch, I believe that will be proof enough.”

The reference to the table, the knowledge of the signature, was proof enough. Nothing that had ever been released to the press. And it was unusual, moreso than any other scene. Not a coffee machine. Not a couch. Not, perhaps most memorably, an entire sound system. Never the artworks themselves, but always an item of incredible value — generally more than Latrell’s annual paycheck — marked, dismantled, defaced. Ruined.

Latrell stepped around the table. Stared down at it for a few long seconds. Saw only swirls and whisps and curving, branching lines.

He squinted a little, tilted his head, and it jumped out at him like an optical illusion snapping into focus. Seamlessly integrated into the pattern, a series of letters, distinct and separate from the larger, blocky moniker.

Hello, Latrell

“The hell…” The words were faint.

The man on the phone chuckled again. “You’re welcome. I am quite sure your boss will be very curious as to the meaning of that.”

“What the—”

“Apologies, Agent, but I really must be going. Places to go, paintings to fence. You know how it is. Though if I may offer some advice?”

He paused. Not long enough for Latrell to formulate a response.

“You really should make an effort to leave work earlier. Eight pm every night this week? It’s a recipe for burnout.”

Latrell dropped the phone from his ear, staring at the screen. The unknown number stared back at him, stark black numbers on a too-white screen.

Implausible. Impractical. Impossible. Beyond that, beyond the logistics and the motivation and the feasibilityof it all, it was just fucking insane. If he was right, if the man on the phone was who he thought it was, then he’d done all that, found Latrell’s number, tracked his movements, knew that he’d be at this crime scene, knew enough about his life to know when he was leaving work every night, all with the ultimate goal of calling him to— what? Gloat? Provide a clue? Hear the sound of his own fucking voice?

Each possibly theory was more insane than the last. Latrell swept off his glasses and pinched at his eyes with a thumb and forefinger.

“Brishan!” Albie all but shoved him, and Latrell realised it wasn’t the first time she’d tried to get his attention.

“Sorry,” he said, too distracted to bother with sincerity, mind racing, whirling, unmoored. He shoved his glasses back on, tried to school his expression back into neutrality. “I was just—”

“Who was that?” she demanded.

“I don’t know. It was nothing. Nobody. A prank call.” Yeah, right.

“Who’d they say it was?”

“They didn’t, actually.” He realised the truth of the statement even as it left his mouth. Not that it mattered. The content of the conversation left very little doubt just who he’d been speaking to. As much as his brain was trying to find ways to deny it. “Never actually identified themselves. They just implied— but it wasn’t really— I mean, I’m not sure—”

He exhaled, rubbed at his eye again. Spoke without lowering his hand. “I actually— I think it was Nox.”

Beat. Then: “What?”

Latrell kept rubbing at his eye. Didn’t really think that question deserved an answer.

Albie took a few moments to realise that was his conclusion, then added, “Are you sure?”

“Fuck, no, I’m not sure!” Latrell dropped his hand in time to catch the hurt look flicker over Albie’s face, shoulders tense, spine straight. He sucked in a deep breath, tried to modulate his tone. “No, I’m not sure. But… well, he was certainly pretty convincing.”

Albie chewed her lower lip for a moment. “We’re gonna have to report this.”

Irritation flickered hot and fluid in Latrell’s chest. He loosened his jaw, endeavoured to keep his voice entirely level when he said, “Of course I’m going to report it.”

It still came out sharp. Too sharp, if the slight lift to Albie’s eyebrows was anything to go by.

Latrell closed his eyes for a beat. Shoved down the slow boil of annoyance licking at his insides, forced himself to inhale, exhale. Slowly. Repeated, “I’m going to report it.”

Some of her scepticism faded, though an element of obstinance remained in the jut of her chin, the wrinkle between her brows. “Good.”

Latrell’s jaw locked. He turned away from her, back towards the table. Let his eyes skip over those two horrifying words, embedded in the centre of a criminal’s signature. Abruptly wished he’d chosen something else to look at.

“It’s… weird, right?” Albie’s voice had softened. “After the last few months…”

“Yeah it fucking is.” He sucked in a deep breath, gestured towards the table. “And this doesn’t help.”

Albie stepped up next to him. He didn’t really want to show her this. Didn’t really have a choice. It wasn’t exactly something he could hide, couldn’t change the signature so those two words were no longer a part of it.

But it was okay. Most people so far believed what he thought, that he was just a random target. Believed that he had no idea why Nox was fixated on him. Believed that he was just as in the dark as the rest of them.

But things kept piling up. Coincidence upon coincidence. As a cop Latrell had been trained to believe coincidences didn’t exist. But coming up with any other theory now seemed even harder.

He knew the instant Albie saw it. Felt her tension lurch like a physical presence in the room.

“Oh,” she said, quiet, loaded.

“I know.”

Albie turned to him, her face as earnest as her voice. “You’re fucked.”

Latrell removed his glasses to pinch his eyes again. “I know.”

#pockets muses IWL #WIP: ATN #original writing #writeblr #excerpt #enjoy you guys ^_^

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sunnynwanda · 1 year

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Dragon in distress

Summary: when the news of the Princess’ kidnapping reach the Prince, he sets out on a quest to the Dragon’s lair. Except he’s not rushing to save the damsel. It’s the Dragon that needs saving from her.

The screeching didn't stop from the moment he picked her up from the courtyard. It didn't stop when they soared high up into the sky, further than any arrow could reach. It did not stop all the way to the dark mountain ridge. Only when her feet landed in front of the cave, did she finally stop screaming. Her lungs were hurting, and so were the Dragon's ears. He folded his wings behind his back, glaring at her for a moment as he rubbed his temples. He knew for a fact this was going to be an experience.

"If you scream again," he warned before she could even open her mouth again. "I'm going to push you off the cliff." He had to get away before the temptation got the best of him. In all honesty, no one could blame him for silencing her if they had only heard her shrieking.

"Is this where you live?" Disgust filled her voice as she folded her arms in front of her chest, glancing into the cave.

Her pitch was driving the Dragon bonkers, but he only had to endure it for a day or two, right? Someone was surely going to show up. Perhaps someone who hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting her before. He almost chuckled at the thought when a saucepan hit him in the chest.

“And you expect me to stay here before someone comes to my rescue?” The Princess stood in the middle of his cave, her scrutinizing gaze darting from one thing to another as she searched for other things to throw at him. “This is ridiculous. I need a proper bed, this isn’t comfortable. And a bedside table. I dislike your chairs too. Do you even have a bath?”

He blocked a pillow aimed at his head but got hit with another one. The Princess kept on rambling, her speech drifting out of focus. He let out a troubled sigh, as he moved to the entrance of his once peaceful home.

“I'm starting to doubt if anyone is coming at all.”

The Prince was frantic. He set out in search of the dragon's lair the moment he received the news of the princess' kidnapping. His hands were shaking as he gripped the reins tight, his piercing blue eyes set on the blurry mountain ridge in the distance. For the Prince had met the Dragon before and knew him well enough. But worst of all, he had met the Princess. And he knew her too well.

By the time he reached the cave, it was midday. The Dragon sat in front of the cave, still scared to go inside, his head hanging low over something in his claws. A book, the Prince assumed, suppressing the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He failed miserably the moment the Dragon looked up at him with the most hopeful expression he had ever seen in those eyes. The poor creature looked drained of life, his green scales now less vibrant and shiny. The Prince was about to comment on the ordeal he brought upon himself when he heard the said ordeal squeal.

“You came!” She stormed past her kidnapper and into the arms of the Prince. “I did hope someone cuter would show up, but you’ll do just as fine. Now, are you going to keep staring at this beast or will you end him?”

“Pardon me?” Judging from the look on her face, that wasn’t the reaction she expected.

The Prince caught the Dragon’s eyes, irritation sparkling in his. “Well, aren’t you going to slay him?”

“Of course not,” he struggled to keep his voice down, mischief evident in his eyes as he glanced at the dragon behind her. “I didn’t exactly come here for you, truth be told.”

The Princess was rendered speechless, which was an achievement in and of its own. He smiled, before gesturing towards his horse. “You can take my horse,” she was still too stunned to speak, accepting the reins and his hand, as she helped her mount the steed. “I’m sure you’ll manage to get home before dusk.” The Prince added with a polite smile.

The Princess nodded before casting a glance at the Dragon.

“Good luck with… whatever this is.” She waved them goodbye before heading home. The Prince allowed his gaze to linger on the horizon before turning to the dork he called a friend.

“If you are going to keep kidnapping random royalty, choose better, eh?” He attempted a stern look but adoration coloured his eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

“This was the last time, I swear,” the Dragon claimed, earning a doubtful look from the Prince. “I was reading this fairy tale and got carried away.”

The young man shook his head as he reached the cliff where the Dragon was seated, flopping down on the grass right next to him. “Next time you wanna see me, just kidnap me, will you?”

He loved the puzzled look that came over the Dragon’s face. And the baffled laugh that escaped his mouth when the words settled in. But above all and most of all, he loved the Dragon.

Masterlist

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