#this has never happened before and may never happen again
Text
A DM’s Fair Play Guide To Plot Twists
I love running a game with a lot of surprises. The challenge to pulling this off well is that, unless you’re playing a one on one game, your players outnumber you: and between them, they have a good chance of figuring out what’s going to happen, no matter how sneaky and clever you are.
The first way of dealing with this - which I’ll just call the bullshit way - is to not give your players the information they need to solve the mystery. Don’t let them find out about the secret society until it’s too late. Don’t give them any reason to suspect that their NPC ally is planning to kill them. Don’t let them find the murder weapon, don’t let them locate the witnesses, don’t give them the chance to skip to the end of their investigation.
This sucks, and if you run your games like this, you’re going to piss off your players. Because it isn’t fair.
In mystery literature, a “fair play mystery” is one where the reader is given all of the information they need in order to figure out the solution before the Big Reveal. It’s what makes the reveal good: that GASP, the “oh shit, the knife! the knife from the party! that was hers! I forgot!”
Pulling off a twist in a fair play game is an incredible feeling. Your players will think you’re a genius (or an absolute dick bastard, which is just as good) and they’ll respect it more when they land in hot water that they plausibly could have avoided. So how do you run a fair play game without your players figuring out the twists ahead of time, given that you’re definitely not smarter than all of your players put together?
By fucking with their expectations.
Here are some things that I keep in mind, to keep my players guessing. And it’s important, with all of this, that if your players see through something, let them have it. They should figure out a lot of things on their own! But if you’re regularly seeding your stories with all of this stuff, eventually your players will miss something. Those are somethings you can build on. The same way that a low level enemy who gets away once can keep coming back again and again until they become an important antagonist, a misapprehension your party proves to have a blindspot for can grow and develop until they get smacked with a breathtaking twist.
What’s a twist if not the sudden overturning of an assumption you never thought to question?
1: Make your powerful friendly NPCs know a lot...but not as much as the players think they do.
Player characters often end up with powerful allies. It would be very convenient for the party if those allies always had accurate information. Make sure they don’t always enjoy that convenience.
It’s a balancing act: you want your powerful NPCs to be powerful. You want this alliance to be meaningful and beneficial to your players. But give your NPC an Achilles heel of some kind, when it comes to the information at their disposal. The Noble General commands powerful forces and knows the lay of the enemy’s land well...but that doesn’t mean he knows what every squadron and scouting party is up to. The Political Mastermind may know the ins and outs of the court, and have keen insight into the motivations of others: but he has an enemy who pisses him off so much that he loses all objectivity around her. The Powerful Wizard can call upon great magic to aid the party: but his divinations aren’t as accurate as he thinks they are, and he’s prone to finding, in his signs and omens, what he wants to see, more than what’s actually there.
Most of the time, their information should be good! That will make it more likely that your players will trust them the one time when it isn’t.
2. Let (apparently) less powerful NPCs sometimes know more than the players think they do.
Most NPCs aren’t the Noble General or the Powerful Wizard. Most NPCs are Daves, designed to get the players from place to place. Most of those Daves know about as much as you’d expect them to. But some Daves have plans of their own.
You don’t always have to signpost with big blinking lights which of your NPCs are ‘important,’ and which ones are ‘unimportant.’ Sneak in a crafty Dave from time to time. That assistant they talk to, every time they go to see the prince? That bitch knows everything, and she’s almost ready to make her move.
3: There is no such thing as a completely reliable witness.
If the players only get information from one person, that information should be flawed in at least one, potentially small, but important way. Smart players will seek a second opinion, or at least allow for the possibility that their information may be incomplete. But even smart players get out over their skis sometimes.
4: Let your NPCs be aware of the power of a first impression.
If an NPC gives a strong first impression of being a particular kind of person, it’s because they’re comfortable giving that impression. That might be because it’s who they are. But maybe not.
One of the first characters the PCs met in a VtM campaign I ran was Gawaine. Gawaine was a good old pine-scented man’s man, with salt and pepper stubble and a blue Ford truck. He listened to AC/DC, and talked about the war. He was affable and honest and willing to lend a hand. You already know Gawaine. Everybody knows a Gawaine. Gawaines are trustworthy, salt of the earth types. You don’t necessarily think to question a Gawaine.
That’s exactly why Gawaine was such a useful persona for Krystiyan, the Tzimisce Voivode, a cruel and alien sculptor of flesh who “never left his haven.” There were plenty of clues that they were the same person, but that campaign was in its endgame before the players put them all together.
5: Sometimes, dangerous and villainous NPCs should be helpful and cooperative.
Not even necessarily because they’re manipulating the players, or even deceiving them about their true natures, but because their interests and the players’ interests genuinely align...for the moment.
One of the easiest levers in your players’ brains to exploit is the expectation that people who help you are your friends. Even if your players know, consciously, that they shouldn’t trust this person, most of the time they kind of can’t help it, if the NPC is genuinely helpful to them and at least a little charismatic.
6: Sometimes, good and valuable NPCs should be unhelpful and uncooperative.
No matter how mature your players are, there’s a natural tendency to react to uncooperative NPCs with a reflexive, “Hey, fuck you! We’re the protagonists! This guy is an asshole!” so from time to time have a helpful, honest, good-aligned NPC have a wholly justified but as-yet-unknown-to-the-party reason to flatly refuse to deal with them.
7: Every NPC should have a secret.
Not necessarily a bad secret. Were it to be revealed, it might even make the party like them more! But for their own reasons, the NPC does not want their secret to come out, and they will lie to the party to protect it. Players go crazy when they realize they’re being lied to, and often jump to some wild assumptions about your NPC’s motivations. I’ve had an NPC lie about the opening hours of a shop, and had the PCs assume that they were black market dealers for the villain when the dude just wanted to be able to close early so he could go smoke weed in the park.
8. As a DM, it’s polite to remind your players of the common knowledge their characters would possess...even when it doesn’t reflect the truth.
We all know it’s tedious when the DM calls for a roll when you’re just asking for common knowledge. I shouldn’t have to make a roll to know the dumb space word for plastic in a Star Wars game. I shouldn’t have to make a roll to know who the Holy Roman Emperor is in a game about medieval vampires. The DM should supply common knowledge for free, whenever it comes up.
That doesn’t mean common knowledge is true.
This is different from just lying to your players, because you don’t put the weight of DM word-of-God behind it. It’s not “You would know this guy is a Ventrue, based on XYZ.” It’s “it would be a common assumption that this guy is a Ventrue, based on XYZ.” He might not be a Ventrue. It might in fact be extremely important that he is not a Ventrue. But if it is commonly assumed that he’s a Ventrue, that is - word for word - something you can share with your players. If they don’t look any deeper than common knowledge, that’s on them.
9. Obviously untrustworthy NPCs provide great air coverage for less obviously untrustworthy NPCs.
The obviously untrustworthy NPC might or might not be planning to betray the party. But if you introduce two untrustworthy NPCs in the same storyline, and one of them seems normal and cool and has a genuine plot-related reason to be there, and the other one is Jaffar, Jaffar’s gonna get clocked, but Susan over there will probably slip under the radar, and might even get tapped to help out with the whole Jaffar situation. They might get Susan’s number, by the end of the session. Susan might become an ‘ally.’ Susan might even get romanced by a party member. Play your cards right, and Jaffar might just end up a footnote in the introduction of Susan, Scourge of Worlds and most hated NPC in the entire campaign.
10. Your villains should always have a secret plan B.
Your villain isn’t stupid, right? And your villain probably isn’t so arrogant that it is inconceivable to them that their plan might fail. They’ve been planning this ritual for ten thousand years, after all. It’s always possible that some plucky band of heroes could show up at the last minute and murder your high priest, or steal your amulet, or seduce your second in command. So what does your villain have in his back pocket to make the players go, “Oh, shit - he planned for this!”
This may mean that there is a whole separate plot happening, running alongside the main story. This is great, because when weird things happen, the players have to figure out whether this is part of Plot A or Plot B, and working out who did what and why gets a lot more interesting. If they end up foiling Plot A, great - your villain was also secretly behind Plot B the whole time, and will transfer all of his resources over to that.
Sometimes your players will figure out that Plots A and B were both the same plot the whole time, with the same villain at the head, and they’ll feel like the smartest people on the planet, and it will be their favorite moment of the entire game. That’s great! You gave them that!
Sometimes, they won’t. And when the villain of Plot A, apparently defeated, starts laughing and reveals that he was also the mastermind behind Plot B, which is now too late to be stopped, that will probably be your favorite moment of the entire game.
415 notes
·
View notes
Text
Jilted
Azriel x Reader
Synopsis: The morning of your wedding your fears are enforced by an old way of thought, sending you running and Azriel to cope with the aftermath but will a reunion set you both back on the path you should both be living?
Warnings: Angsty
A/N: Right, you may find yourself hating Reader for a bit but I tried my best convey the panic and pressure.
-------------------------------------------------------
“I can't do this I can't do this I can't do this”
“Shh YNN you'll be fine! This is what you want!” Mor caught you in her arms, your train half tangling your feet. You cried into her chest, not caring if your make-up was streaming down your face, your sister and maid of honour rocking you gently.
“YN, come on sweetie, it's just pre-wedding jitters, happens to most, Azriel will be waiting to see his beautiful bride!”
“Mor it's too soon! I was going to be a writer! Go off and live on the continent, I have never even been! There's still so much I want to go and do!”
“And you will! You will YN! You and Az will do that together and more! Marriage isn't going to change that!”
“You're right, you're right” You pulled from her, rubbed under your eyes and sat back down at the vanity. You looked into the mirror at the person you hardly recognised and silently went about reapplying your makeup.
“You look beautiful YN” You could only nod at her, afraid if you opened your mouth again it would set off a series of unfortunate events.
“I’m going to go check on Azriel” She gave you a smile before ducking out of the pastel room, leaving you alone. You steadied your breathing, batting your tears away with your lashes before they could fall further. You loved Azriel, he was your life force, saved you from yourself and you returned the same to him. He was your everything. These thoughts brought ease to you. You ran a soft hairbrush through your flowing locks, a smile beginning to reappear on your face.
“Oh you look lovely my child” The sound of a weathered female's voice came up behind you, causing you to jump slightly. She was of pure Illyrian blood, a representative of a dying way of thought, a relic in her own right, Azriels only remaining relative he was in contact with.
“Thank you, Elena” You found your head bowing slightly to her, unsure of why, you out-ranked her and yet you felt the pressure of the millennia of the institution she represented weigh on you.
“You're going to make a wonderful wife YN” She almost snaked up behind you as quietly as she entered the room as you watched her in the reflection. You tried not to stare at the clipped tattered wings that hung from the female, she tucked them in as if noticing your glance.
“I just know you'll keep him a nice life”
“What do you mean?” You turned to face the skeletal woman, her bone-chilling words wrapping around your lungs.
“Well, I mean being the wife of a powerful Illyrian of course! And just think YN when the children come along you'll be so busy raising the next generation of warriors! Not much time for other things but what could be more important than the bloodline? Azriel is a hard worker, I know he'll provide in tenfolds” She smiled as if she wasn't throwing a live grenade, it began to smoke as the pin was pulled from it inside your head. You could feel your chest compressing further with the strangling tradition.
“Well, Az and I will be both working and you know we won't be having offspring until after we travel and even then we'll both be looking after them” You tried to calm yourself down but her shrill laughter put a quick stop to relief you had from your own words.
“Oh, my child don't we all think that! You're marrying an Illyrian, bastard born or not-” the words cut you, anger replacing anxiety for a moment until she continued “-He can’t suppress the urges of his blood. His life partner will be malleable, mute and well-behaved, does what is expected of her. Azriel has other things to be doing for his Court than raising children, female work”
“I-” You couldn’t find the words through the magma-thick matter-of-fact speech she choked you with.
“-Well, I must go make myself useful elsewhere child” Her crochet-hook-like fingers dug into your shoulders with a squeeze before she turned and left you in the solitude of your room once more.
You could feel the air rush from your lungs as you fought to stop the oxygen from evaporating from your blood. You stood, pacing, blood rushing to your face as you stumbled on the train of your dress, hitting the carpet with unforgiving force. You lay for a moment on the carpet, hands splayed out in front of you, your engagement catching the light like you loved. It suddenly feeling much too tight.
“Gods! Fuck! I can’t do this!” You stood on rattling knees, grabbing things frantically from the dresser before you could fully become cognisant of the actions.
You moved quickly and carefully through the door and into the empty hallway, avoiding the directions where laughs leaked out, them falling like battle cries in your ears.
You reached the stone steps of the venue with quiet desperation, your adrenaline and anxiety now fully controlling your body as you bolted down the path, half stumbling. You whipped around to look back up to the hill where the hall of your friends and family waited for the blushing bride, tears claiming your face as their own as you dashed into the streets of Velaris before anyone inside became the wiser.
—----------
Funerals are a strange thing. They do strange things to people. You thought this as you stood at the back of a hall you had not been inside in almost 70 years, thought about how the female they were saying goodbye to today shook your entire life up like it was nothing. You looked around and imagined it the week after you left, the day you left, the hour after you left. You thought of the moments you missed with your chosen family since you fled the Night Court and all its wonderful attributes, you pushed the guilt you had been fighting ever since then back down
From the back row, your eyes landed on the backs of the three Archeron sisters, their stories meeting you on your travels around the globe. You smothered the smile that toyed at your mouth, the thoughts of your friends happy and in love warming you. Your gaze landed on the the back of Azriels head as it hung in respect. Too much, this was too much, you couldn’t deal with him seeing you. As you had 70 years previously, you slipped from the hall without anyone noticing.
You were met with the warm Spring sun, a beautiful day in Velaris, as they all were. You wandered down the unforgiving steps, your name from a familiar voice stopping you.
“Yn?”
“Mor!”
“Yn!” She ran down the steps, taking you in her arms, the feeling of home rushing to you. You were so happy to hold your sister having worked through the issues that arose from your wedding day. At first, she rightfully iced you entirely but after two decades of silence, she reached out, asking to reconnect, missing her sister in the fray and yet you always found an excuse to not come home.
“Yn I'm so happy you're back! You came back for the funeral?”
“Yeah I did, felt I needed to”
“Yeah I mean I suppose they were almost your family too” she smiled before realising her words and apologising, a weak smile grew on your face in acceptance of the throwaway comment. The two of you continued down a winding road away from the groups leaking out of the hall.
“So how long are you here?”
“Just the weekend, I have meetings on Monday, I’m staying at our old apartment, remember?”
“Oh yes! Just a flying visit so, the busy life of a successful big-time author I suppose”
“Oh yeah, I'm plagued with the title” you laughed, finally meeting the Sidra as it coursed, its glimmering water making you smile.
“Yeah, your success really boomed after leaving here” She almost sounded sad before beaming at you again and catching your hands in hers.
“I guess, I missed you though, I missed the Night Court”
“And Azriel?” The name struck pure pain into your heart, as if seeing the back of his head in the hall wasn't bad enough, hearing his name was almost catastrophic, you only nodded.
“Well, he misses you too YN” She squeezed your hands.
“He doesn't, he couldn't, not after what I did to him Mor” She looked at you with sympathy, looking back up the street you just walked down.
“I have to get back, they’ll be looking for me” You gave her an understanding smile
“Meet me for a drink later in Rita’s, we have so much to catch up on” as she kissed your cheek goodbye with her words before returning back up the street to the hall again.
You looked out over the Sidra, an empty plot of land ripping through your heart. It was there where you and Azriel were going to build, it still stayed empty. A mausoleum to your relationship. You peeled your eyes from it, looking elsewhere around the city you adored, deciding to spend the remainder of your evening re-acquainting yourself with it.
-
Night fell in the city of stars as you found your way towards the Town House by muscle memory alone. You felt so alive being back, more alive than any amount of travel or success ever brought you. You leaned against the fence, waiting happily for your sister.
“Y-Yn?” his face dropped, his voice alone causing you to bite the inside of your mouth to almost bleed. The red flush from your walking was gone from your face growing pale at the sight of him standing on the other side of the street. He crossed slowly as if any sudden movement would send you running.
“H-Hi Az-Azriel, you look - you look well”
“Thank- what are you doing here YN?” tones of confused sadness left Azriel, the anger towards you he felt so many years ago unable to be conjured back at will. He thought about this moment so often and yet, he couldn’t think of a single thing he’d said in those imaginary encounters.
“I-I’m meeting Mor, I-”
“Azriel, hey there you are!” The small beaming brunette Fae seemingly came from nowhere to his side, her hand tucking into his so effortlessly. You pushed every yearning thought from your head and plastered a smile onto your face that didn’t fully meet your eyes.
“Maya, go tell Mor her sister is here, I’ll meet you inside” She raked her eyes up your and down your full body with such subtle brutality before kissing Azriel’s cheek goodbye, sauntering up the path to the house.
“She seems nic-”
“She is” He almost bit, his eyes felt like daggers on your skin.
“I-”
“-What are you doing here YN?” his tone matched his eyes.
“I just came for the funeral”
“And now what?”
“I’m meeting Mor and then heading to our old place to stay”
“And then?”
“Then, I’m heading back to the continent” You weren't sure why you were answering, you suppose you owed him that much, the heat of his eyes making you feel vulnerable.
“I heard your writing is doing pretty well there, pretty well everywhere”
“Yeah”
“Hope it was worth it YN” Words like fire burning you all over, and yet you felt you deserved worse. He sighed when you didn't respond before pushing past you, following the path Maya had just trotted up.
“It wasn't," you said the words before you knew what you were saying, back towards him before looking over your shoulder, now fully meeting his eyes. He looked as though he was going to say something but Mor came flying out her front door.
“Sorry I'm late YN I was- oh, sorry am I interrupting something?”
“No Mor, I was just leaving” and then he did. Gone again.
“How did that go?” Mor looped her arm through yours, prying you from leaning on the wall to head down the street again.
“Fine” you tried a smile and failed.
“You met Maya”
“Always one for sensitivity Mor” You smiled at your sister and she was instant apologies.
“I’m sorry, I forgot they were coming over tonight… Maya isn't anything like you if that helps. He went a bit off the walls when you left. Cassian thinks he's going to propose to that tonight, hope he's all wrong. He's totally settling especially since Rhys and Cass have their mates now. She's nothing like you and I think he knows that, just ignoring it. It's kinda sad and- oh hey YN I didn't mean to make you cry” she said the words like throwaway gossip, forgetting her audience only to have your rising tears land her back to earth.
“No no it's okay Mor, I'm just going to go home”
“Aw come on, I'm sorry!” you stopped on the path, her soft eyes giving you no comfort.
“Not as sorry as I am Mor” You took off then, in the direction of your old shared house.
-
You lay in your bed, rain threatening to come through the slate roof. Tossing and turning you finally decided to get up and wander your old house you had with Mor before meeting Azriel. Looking in drawers filled with old pictures, ones of you when you were a kid, playing with the Mor. More recent ones of you with Rhys, Cassian and Azriel, Azriels arm draped around you. You ran your fingers over the tarnished picture, a tear dripping onto the film before you tucked it back into the worn drawer.
You meandered through the living room, stopping at the old mahogany press. You knew what was in there and you didn't want to see it. Looking at that engagement ring again would be the end of you.
A loud banging came drumming against the door causing you to jump from the crushing thought. You wrapped the dressing gown tighter around yourself before opening the door to see the tormented, rain-soaked Illyrian before you. He waited for no invitation before blowing in past you, the cold leaking from him.
“I COULDN'T DO IT!”
“Do what Azriel?! What's wrong?!”
“I couldn't ask Maya to marry me! There's fucking caution tape around my heart because of you! I would have been fine if you had just left me alone to wallow in anger all those years ago I would have been fine! But No! I just had to fuck around and get attached to you!” He threw his arms in the air, words hot with anger.
“You're blaming me for loving you?!” You found his words caused you your own irritation.
“Yeah! Yeah I am! You just had to pay attention to me! You just had to care about me! You just had to-”
“Had to what?! Had to love you!” you couldn’t believe you snapped out the words as they floated to his ears.
“YEAH! AND YOU JUST HAD TO LEAVE ME!” Knives to your mind would have been less painful, he almost rattled in anger, a mere metre away from you, his shadows vibrating at his feet in anger.
“I had to leave Azriel I wasn't ready!”
“YOU COULDN'T HAVE SAID THAT TO MY FACE!? BECAUSE YOU COULD HAVE! ANYTHING WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER THAN STANDING UP ON THAT FUCKING ALTER WAITING FOR YOU!” his arms raised in the air with his words, causing you to flinch slightly.
“Azriel-”
“When we were together what was the thing you always said to me?! It was that you wouldn't leave me, that you wouldn't abandon me like everyone else. YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T AND YOU FUCKING DID!”
“I know Az I know” you were crying now, throwing yourself back on the couch, floods of memories of those very conversations threatening to drown you.
“You know?! Then why did you do it! The truth!”
“Elena came to me before the wedding and said all this stuff about what a wife should do and be and how I wasn't going to have time to write anymore and all the kids would be left to me and I wasn't ready! I WASN'T READY FOR THAT KIND OF PRESSURE THE ILLYRIANS WERE PUSHING ON ME!”
“YEAH! THE ILLYRIANS NOT ME! I NEVER EVER SAID ANYTHING LIKE THAT! NEVER EVEN THOUGHT IT!” you buried your head in your hands at his shouting, the action sending a ping of regret through Azriel but the repressed rage he felt towards you had to get out.
“You hurt me YN YLN. The wedding bells were just alarms to you”
“I don't know what to say but I want you to know that I understand that you hate me, I'll leave tomorrow, Ill go!” you swept the tears from your face, feeling you didn’t deserve to have them, the maker behind this mess.
“I missed you” his words completely caught you off guard as you brought yourself to look at him once again, his wild wrathful eyes replaced by utterly heartbroken ones.
“I miss you and I shouldn't. I can't move on from you! I haven't slept properly since you left! Every damn night it's a new nightmare and then I wake up and you're not there like you used to be and it's a different kind of nightmare! I miss you being there next to me at the dinner table, at Rita’s, at stupid fucking court functions, just doing absolutely fuck all with you! The number of times I thought about contacting you, visiting you, the amount of letters I wrote and never sent-” It was the first time he hadn't had a raised voice since he came into the house but being faced with the fallout of your actions in his ice tone made you miss the screaming to some degree.
“I'M SORRY! I AM WHAT ELSE CAN I SAY!” you found yourself shouting back, anything to deafen your inner voice.
“Do you miss me?” his icy tone melted slightly at your unfamiliar raised voice.
“Yes” you stood again from the sofa.
“I'm with Maya”
“I know”
“But she's not you”
“No”
“I hate you YN" The words hurt every inch of your body, every cell felt searing unwavering pain, the sentence you never thought you’d hear him say. The familiar feeling of your lungs being strangled beat in your chest, unable to recover from the mortal wound. You did what you did best and ran, out the door and into the rain-soaked Velarian streets.
“YN stop!” he followed you quickly as you made it halfway down the street, he would not have you slip from him again.
“No! I hurt you! I broke you and myself in the process all for selfish reasons and I still love you Azriel!” you went to run again but his firm hand on your forearm stopped you, spinning you to face him as his wild face dripped in rain.
“I hate that I love you YN”
“What?” you said softly over the thundering rain. Azriel looked from your face to over your shoulder. You turned to follow his eyes down the street, the plot of land haunting the other side of the Sidra.
“You ever wonder what we could have been? We were supposed to live there after we got married, we'd probably have kids and all now” his tone had softened at the sight of the overgrown plot.
“Yeah, we probably would” You stood next to him looking at the patch of home, you gave a weak smile.
“But you might not have your successful career”
“I'd have you, that would be worth more”
“You don't mean that YN”
“I do” he turned to completely face you then.
“Never thought I'd hear you say those words” You bit your lip and you could have sworn Azriel fought a slight smile at your discomfort.
“You should go propose to Maya -” Your mouth was betraying your heart “- And I should leave and live the life I chose because I can't be around the life I should be living”
“Do you think you'd want to live it if I gave you the choice now?” his eyes searched yours, fully softening for the first time since he landed on the doorstep.
“I do”
“Yn I hate you and I love you but mostly I just hate that I love you” He felt no longer in control of his urges, leaning into you as he took hold of your soaked hips and leaned down to kiss swirls of what should have been and what could have taking you both over.
15 years later.
You lay down in the sun of the wildflower garden, your eyes took rest in the warm glow of the sun, taking a moment of rest after months of traveling with your new novel.
“ARGH!” You shrieked at the rush of cold water soaking you down to your skin.
“Azriel!” you bolted from where you lay, chasing your husband who clutched the hose down the length of the garden, only to be stopped dead by his sudden decrease in velocity.
“Big mistake YNN” You looked at him puzzled only to hear the roaring laughter of your two children launch out of the hedges and armed with water balloons that they doused you with, gaining more screams of pure unadulterated joy. You collapsed to the grass as they overwhelmed you with their hysterics, climbing all over you, Azriel watching on so lovingly, so whole.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
I promise the next fic will be more silly goofy! Let me know what you think!
#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acosf#acomaf#acowar#azriel#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel x oc#azriel acotar#azriel fanfic#azriel fluff#azriel fic#cassian#acotar x reader#acotar x you#acotar x y/n#acotar fanfiction#acotar fic#acotar fluff#azriel shadowsinger#shadowsinger x reader#sarah j maas#fanfic#azriel angst#azriel acosf#angst with a happy ending#angst
209 notes
·
View notes
Text
6.1 Bucky
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader
Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.
Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of sex, nudity, Bucky's lies come back to bite his ass.
Please note: I'll be taking a break from posting starting on Thursday, May 16th to focus on writing, and will resume posting on Thursday, May 23rd.
Word Count: 1.1k
Previously On...: Porn. The last chapter was porn.
A/N: Sorry, besties; not sure what happened. I set this up to post at 445 per usual, and when I came back on, I saw it still hadn't gone up, so I'm doing it manually. I apologize for this screw up!
NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates
Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!
Bucky woke the next morning in a tangle of sheets and Major. He had to pee, but he didn’t want to get up. God, he never wanted to get up. If he could stay wrapped up with her like this, for the rest of his life, he thought, he would die happy. The very idea struck him like a brick– he’d given a lot of thought to his own death over the years, but never, not once, did he ever consider the possibility that he might actually die happy until this very moment.
If she was in his life when he went, he realized, he very well could.
Major shifted in her sleep and snuggled further into Bucky’s chest with a contented sigh, and he felt his heart swell. If he wasn’t careful, at the rate his feelings were going, he was at risk of proposing to her before lunch.
After about fifteen more minutes of blissfully watching Major sleep in his arms, Bucky couldn’t hold off his bladder any longer. Gently extricating himself from Major’s embrace so as not to disturb her, he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before heading to the bathroom.
After he’d finished and washed his hands, he made his way back toward Major’s bed. As he passed by the string of clothes he’d discarded the night before, he heard a buzzing coming from his pants. He reached down and pulled his phone from his pocket, checking the caller ID.
Lily. Again.
Bucky sighed and took himself back to the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind him as he accepted the call.
“Hey, Lil, what’s up?” he asked, sitting down on the edge of Major’s whirlpool tub.
“Hey, Jamie,” she said, and Bucky could immediately tell something was wrong. She sounded… off, distressed. “Listen,” she continued, “I know you and Sam probably had a late night last night, and I hate bothering you…”
“What’s wrong, Lil?” Bucky asked, growing concerned now.
“Well, I drove out to Langston Park to run the trails,” Lily began, “and I don’t know if I ran over a nail or had a slow leak, or what, but when I got back to the car, my tire was flat. I was kind of hoping you could meet me up here and help me change it?”
Bucky ran a hand over his stubble. “Shit,” he said. “You know I would in a heartbeat, Lil, but–”
“No, yeah,” Lily interrupted him. “It’s fine, don’t worry. I’m sure someone will drive by and I can flag them down for help–”
“Lily Anne McIntyre, you are not going to wave down a stranger and just hope that they’re not a murderer or a rapist,” Bucky said into the phone, a little louder than he intended. “Listen, I’m on my way, but I’m in the city, so it’s going to take me a little while, okay? Just… just stay in your car with the doors locked until I get there.”
“Oh my gosh, thank you so much, Jamie!” Lily’s voice was full of relief. “You’re my hero! I owe you, big time!”
Bucky cracked a smile. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Give me about forty-five minutes to get to you, okay? And remember, lock. your. doors.”
“I promise,” Lily agreed before ending the call.
Bucky stood up from the edge of the tub and went back into the bedroom and quietly put his clothes back on. Sitting down at the edge of Major’s side of the bed, he leaned down and began pressing kisses to her shoulder and collarbone until she stirred and started to stretch.
With a lazy moan that sent the blood straight to Bucky’s dick, Major sleepily blinked her eyes open. “Why are you wearing so many clothes?” she asked him, her voice seductively husky with sleep. “Come back to bed.”
Bucky wanted to. Oh god, he really, really wanted to. “I’m so sorry, sugar,” he told her, leaning down to give her a proper kiss.
“Bucky,” she laughed, pulling back from him, “I just woke up; I’m sure I have horrible morning breath.”
“Like I would ever care.” He cupped her face in his hands and brought his lips to hers, gently running his tongue along her lips so she opened her mouth to him.
After a long moment, they broke apart, and Bucky rested his forehead against hers. “I don’t want to leave you,” he said softly. “But I’ve got to go.”
Major nuzzled her cheek against his. “So, don’t,” she murmured. “Stay.”
Bucky sighed. “I can’t. Lily’s got a flat tire; she’s waiting on me to come help her change it.”
Major let out a puff of air through her lips. “Well, give me five minutes to get dressed and I can come with you,” she offered hopefully.
“I’d love that, doll,” Bucky said, frowning, “but Lily’s still pissed off about the bar and…” he ran a hand behind his neck, suddenly realizing how stupid this was going to sound, “I haven’t told her I’ve been seeing you.”
The change that came over Major was nearly imperceptible, but Bucky clocked it, all the same. Her eyes narrowed, her shoulders tensed and she pulled back from him by a hair.
“So,” Major began slowly, “where did she think you were last night when she called you, then? You said you’d already told her what you were up to. If she didn’t know you were with me, what did she think you were doing?”
“I told her I was having a guys’ night out in the city with Sam,” Bucky admitted, hating himself now for even deeming the lie necessary in the first place.
“I see.” The words were clipped, Major’s voice void of any emotion, and Bucky knew he’d fucked up. Immensely. “Well, you better get going, then, if Lily’s waiting on you.”
“Major.” Bucky put a hand on her arm, but she got up out of the bed, dragging the topsheet with her to wrap around herself and keep her body covered from him, as if now, suddenly, after everything they’d already done together, she no longer wanted him to see her naked. “Can we just–”
“You should go, Bucky,” she said again, not meeting his eye, and Bucky felt like absolute shit.
“Can I call you later?” he asked, and he heard the note of desperation in his own voice, but Major just shrugged a shoulder. He tried to lean in to her to give her a kiss goodbye, but she stood there, still as a statue, so he simply pressed his lips to her forehead and sighed before showing himself to the door.
He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up, and he’d blown it. She’d probably never want to see him again, and honestly, could he blame her? He’d lied about being with her, like she was some kind of dirty secret. Sam had been right, though Bucky would never admit it to him. Why was he letting Lily’s opinion dictate how he lived his life?
<- Previous Part / Next Part ->
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky x you#bucky x reader#bucky fanfic#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky x female reader#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fanfiction#james bucky buchanan barnes#james buchanan barnes#mcu bucky barnes#james barnes
149 notes
·
View notes
Text
seeded
ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist
pairing: Dieter Bravo & gn!reader
rating: Explicit (18+ only!)
warnings: no explicit smut but references to the following - tentacles, monster/alien fucking, cum inflation, mpreg, masturbation. also, pregnancy anxiety.
word count: 979
summary: Dieter Bravo believes in aliens. Do you?
A/N: happy slightly early birthday to the gorgeous @sp00kymulderr for tomorrow - adore you 💛. in honour of you there is also a slight mention of just a touch because that lives rent free in my head.
for the @dieterbravobrainrotclub May drabble challenge - I make my own rules so I didn't include meet-cute (I accidentally wrote this, so I can't be blamed for excluding it)
quote: "Do you believe in aliens?"
trope: meet-cute
follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics
"Do you believe in aliens?"
It wasn't the first time he'd asked you this question. It probably wouldn't be the last either, knowing him, and so you answer in the same way you did that very first time so long ago.
"Yes, Dee," you say, looking at him over your laptop screen, the ghost of his rammed summer calendar still burned into your retinas as he comes into focus. Due on a new set in a few weeks, and with his filming schedule just through this morning, you'd spent the last few hours scrambling to put his life together while yours chaotically whirls out of control, ignored, in the background.
Dieter, oblivious as ever to the state of your life, has shuffled into your direct line of sight with coffee cup in hand, robe open and soft belly on display.
"Right..." he starts, before drifting off to look down at his hands as a concerned look takes over his face.
"You have that dream again?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. It's a dream he has every few months, seems like he has for most of his life. You're about as familiar with it as he is by now. Dieter Bravo will dream of some kind of elaborate alien abduction, usually involving him being dragged up by a beam of light into some extraterrestrial spacecraft. Most often it's pretty benign - occasionally he'd be abducted and never seen again, once or twice it's been pretty gruesome, sometimes he even wakes up having thoroughly enjoyed himself. You can't quite work out what has happened this time though, as his face flicks between concerned and softly dazed.
"No," he says quickly.
"You're a shit liar, Dee."
Closing your laptop - you need the break anyway - you look at him, properly, and see his hand has moved from itching his stomach, to gently caressing it.
Oh no. No. Not this again.
"Dieter."
"Do you think I could be-"
"No, Dieter," you start, standing to approach him like you're approaching a skittish deer. "I don't think you're pregnant." - it sounds stupid to even say it out loud - "I believe in aliens, I do not believe you've been abducted, or probed, or inseminated. I think you had a very nice, or very horrible, dream and now you've woken up confused. Drink your coffee."
Dieter dutifully takes a slurp from the mug in his hand, nodding to you like he's holding onto your every word. Because sometimes, he does. Sometimes you rule Dieter Bravo's world, and he gladly lets you. Take that, alien overlords.
Another deep breath and Dieter's shoulders relax, falling from the tense position he'd held them in. He'd quite liked the idea of being impregnated by an otherworldly lifeform when you first met him. You'd been working for him for a few weeks and, perhaps regrettably, still hadn't established the boundaries you have now. After one of his more sedate parties, you sat with him giggling on his patio. Soon you were both agreeing that the deep sea was much more terrifying than deep space, and a three, two, one later you'd simultaneously exclaimed your belief in aliens. Dieter, naturally, took it one step further, and once you'd got onto the topic of tentacles you knew you were done for, even then. You learnt a lot about what Dieter Bravo would do given the chance to fuck an alien that night, and none of it sounded remotely romantic or sanitary. It barely sounded safe. You're not sure a human could even physically contain the amount of fluid he was talking about. Still, amongst the thoughts of all that mess you definitely stopped breathing at some point, and when he finally got up with a slap to his bare thighs you'd all but scurried home just to make yourself come to the thoughts he planted in your head. It was safe to say Dieter Bravo liked aliens.
"But what if I was," his hand comes to his stomach again, resting below his belly button as his eyes go wide. "I don't know what I'd do."
The worry on his face is almost funny. Almost, because you're the one who has to deal with it, and that makes it not very funny at all. For a moment, you have to humor him, tell him what he wants to hear so he calms down and leaves you alone, and that feels sillier than anything. Which is saying something. You've chased this man through the house, high out of his mind two minutes before a video interview, wearing nothing but a sock on his dick.
"You'd be fine, Dee. You have plenty of space for alien babies in this place. We could get a nanny too, and you can more than afford to take a little time off work. It'd be okay."
"You promise? You'd help?"
"Promise. I'll help look after your alien babies, Dee."
"Okay, cool, because I am not ready to be a mom."
He shuffles off again before you can say anything else, his shaggy head disappearing around a corner just before you hear him flop down on the couch in the other room. You don't need to see him to know exactly what he's doing right now. It's the same thing he does whenever he flops onto that couch. He'll put his coffee down and then scratch his balls a little before simply resting his hand there. Sometimes it devolves into something a little more handsy - the man can tease himself for hours - but sometimes he's comforted just holding his own balls for a little while. The issue always is, you never know which way it's going to go, so before he gets too distracted, you shout through to him from your little corner of his house.
"Hey, Dee?"
"Yeah?"
"Want me to get you a pregnancy test?"
#dieter bravo#dieter bravo x you#dieter bravo x reader#dieter bravo x gn!reader#dieter bravo fanfiction#the bubble fanfiction#coveted fics#dieter bravo brainrot club
79 notes
·
View notes
Note
hii! I was wondering If you could write Detective x supervillain, I love the way you write their dynamic and would love to see more of it. If not, that's totally alright. thank you in advance!
hey hey! sure thing. this may not be the vibe you were looking for, but this was the first idea that popped into my head and i liked it, so... yeah!
also, a quick sidenote: I don't know what I did to deserve such polite and sweet anon asks recently, but... thank you! y'all are so kind and it restores my faith in the internet. thanks for being so cool <3
"Detective," the supervillain smirks. They're conflicted as they watch the detective flinch hard and spin around in their chair with wide eyes. Their fear is delightful, but... Something about the display turns the supervillain's stomach. The detective's fear isn't fading, the supervillain realizes, even though they've met their gaze. In the past, the detective would relax after seeing them. The supervillain studies them for another moment, the words slipping from their lips before they can stop them. "In all the years you've known me, you've never been afraid of me."
The detective's expression sours. "Maybe I didn't really know you, then." They snap with uncharacteristic forcefulness, crossing their arms over their chest. The detective's gaze hasn't left theirs since the supervillain first made their presence known. There's a new wariness in the detective's eyes.
"What the hell is with you?" The supervillain feels the need to ask. They make sure the question is disguised in a heavy layer of expectant frustration, rather than the genuine confusion and betrayal they think they may be feeling deep down.
"You just killed six people-" the detective chokes out, shaking their head. The supervillain glances at the utter mess on their desk. The detective has evidently been looking at the photographs of the crime scene the supervillain just created a few hours ago.
"Sweetheart," the supervillain says patronizingly, making sure to look down at the detective as if they're a pet that has misbehaved. "I'm a supervillain. Class X and everything. You shouldn't be surprised when I commit crimes."
"I know that," the detective hisses angrily, pushing themself to their feet. The supervillain is surprised by the sheer amount of emotion in their voice. It doesn't take them very long to rationalize the detective's new attitude.
"Oh, I see what happened," the supervillain realizes aloud, a grin growing on their face despite the dread coiling in their stomach, begging them to turn back while they still can- "You let your guard down."
"No, I didn't-" The detective argues immediately.
"You did," the supervillain interjects before they can stop themself. That old, sick glee is back. They embrace it like an old friend. "You thought, even for the briefest of moments, that I would abstain from cruelty."
The detective doesn't respond, proving their suspicions correct. The supervillain laughs. "That's hilarious. Did you think that our conversations, that this-" They motion between the two of them, "-was making me a better person? Thwarting my evil, perhaps?"
The detective is infuriatingly silent. Their brows are furrowed and their expression is pinched. There's an unfamiliar tightness to their posture.
"Maybe you need a reminder," the supervillain hums, extending a hand and raising their hand. The detective rises until they're floating in air, strangled by an unseen force. "I am not, nor will I ever be, a good person."
"I am a rotten, despicable being. You can't save me or redeem me—although you have certainly tried." The latter statement is spoken with a sort of detached amusement.
As the detective's airways grow tighter, the supervillain sees that same expression again—fear glimmering in the detective's typically dull eyes. They grit their teeth. The nausea they felt before is returning. The detective is writhing in their unseen confines, struggling against their hold. Growling at their own weakness, the supervillain lets their hand fall to their side. The detective promptly falls to the ground, coughing and choking as they regain their breath.
The supervillain feels like they're spectating—a mere observer as someone else pilots their body and forces their thoughts out into the open air. "I can't promise to be so merciful the next time we meet." The supervillain announces, clenching and unclenching their fist. They don't think the statement is for the detective's benefit. Rather, it's to hold themself accountable.
"You weren't merciful," the detective says disbelievingly, their voice raspy. They're still kneeling on the ground. They let out a small cough.
"Maybe you don't really know my mercy, then," the supervillain hums, playing on the detective's words from earlier. Their gaze meets the detective's and a sort of new understanding passes between them. Whatever they had before is decimated—abandoned out of necessity. The supervillain turns on their heel and walks away, brutally aware of the detective's surprised, betrayed gaze pinned on their back—a gaze that has evidently morphed into hatred.
The two of them had a good thing going, the supervillain supposes. There was a sort of unspoken truce between them for a while there. When the supervillain needed information, they asked the detective—and vice versa. There had been some close calls between them over the years, but never anything as clear-cut as what the supervillain did mere moments ago.
The supervillain has always been self-sufficient; they've survived and thrived for centuries on their own. So... why does the prospect of continuing on without the detective's presence sound so daunting?
©2024, @defectivehero | @defectivevillain, All Rights Reserved. Reblogs are greatly appreciated—just don't steal or share outside of Tumblr, please.
thanks for reading <3
(the supervillain definitely isn't force choking the detective.... definitely not... ha... ha.... ha.... sigh)
tag list: @lateuplight @wit-is-wisdom @greengableswriting @whump-me-all-night-long @noawhite @rekhyt-of-arcadia @the-blind-one-speaks @sufferfictionalcharacters @basically-psyduck @alexkolax @subval01 @emerald-blade @felicia609 @surplus-of-sarcasm @ilickedanenvelopeandilikedit @a-chaotic-gremlin @unknownogre @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @whatwhumpcomments @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @agayprince @starsick1979 @a-lonely-little-ghost @agayprince @plum-tello
click here if you’d like to be on/off the tag list!
#defectivehero#hero x villain#heroes and villains#writing#writeblr#short fic#snippet#writers on tumblr#spilled ink#detective x villain#detective x supervillain#the monopoly I have over this pairing#/hj#/hj but also /srs#/idk anymore
96 notes
·
View notes
Text
Feelings (with Aaron Hotchner)
[ the lead up of you and neighbor, Aaron, revealing you have feelings for each other ]
* fluff 🩶 (+ light angst)
** have never watched the show, have never wrote for him and will probably never write for him again but I’ve read a ton of his fics and had this idea and just really wanted to write it out and share it!(pls be nice)
…………….
Aaron is your divorcee neighbor; has been for about a year. Within that year, you’d say you’d become pretty good friends with him as well as with his son who he had with him most weekends. To anyone, it was all seemingly platonic from both ends. You’d bake and gift them batches of sweets and he’d take down any packages you may need sent out on his way to work in the morning…etc.
Any unspoken feelings either of you harbored unfortunately only began to come to light when his ex wife, Hayley, was horrifically killed.
Aaron came to your door as soon as he could the night of the tragedy and with glossy eyes said, “Is this a bad time? I need someone to talk to.”
“No, of course not. Come in,” your voice shook, instantly thinking the worst. “What happened Aaron, where’s Jack? Is he okay?”
“He’s fine, he’s with..with Hayley’s family,” he said, struggling to keep up his stoic demeanor before completely breaking down in sobs. “Oh Y/N.. it’s awful, it’s — … you have- you have no idea.”
That was the first night you ever spent together. He had fallen asleep on your shoulder with teary eyes as you ran your fingers through his hair to soothe him. When you both woke up in the morning, Aaron apologized for burdening you with his troubles and said he had to get going to see what was going on with the funeral preparations. Although neither of you mentioned it, there was a shift in your friendship from that day forward.
After giving him some space to tend to what he needed to do, you went over to his place.
“Hi. I was going to come over yesterday but who wants to see anyone after a funeral..” you said lightly, walking in after he gestured you inside his apartment.
“I would have loved if you did.”
You nodded and tried not to blush as he closed the door. “Is Jack here?”
“No. I’m letting him spend one last day with Hayley’s parents while they’re still in town.”
He then went on to explain how the plan was for his sister-in-law, Jess, to start coming around to help out with Jack when he couldn’t be with him but that in the meantime, he’d be looking after him while he took some time off from work while Jack took some time off from school too.
“Well I hope you know you can also count on me helping out too.”
“I wouldn’t ask that of you, but you’re more than welcome to. I know Jack loves having you around...”
You ordered takeout that night so he wouldn’t have to make dinner or be alone and before you left, promised you’d be back in the morning.
“Y/N, when you said you could help I thought you meant after I went back to work. You don’t have to start rearranging your schedule yet, I’m still going to be around for a couple of days.”
“I know…but I know you and I know you’ve been putting up a brave front for me tonight and you don’t have to do that with me. I want to be here for you to lean on these coming days.”
“I don’t-”
“I’ll be here tomorrow, and don’t forget to drink that cup of tea I made you before bed, ” you said with a quick, parting hug, leaving him no time to protest as you were already back inside your own place.
You ended up helping the following days more than he ever expected. Since you were an assistant to an event planner, you worked mostly from home making and getting calls; the hours were very flexible so it gave you the ability to do all you could for the Hotchner boys.
Meals and household chores, like laundry and dishes, were all easier for Aaron to accomplish with you around; you were such a positive encouragement for both of them as you made sure Jack stayed on top of his tasks too, like making his bed, brushing his teeth and cleaning up after himself.
Of course with being over everyday, Jack began clinging to you more than he ever used to and while you loved the little boy to pieces, you were worried if you being around so much would affect him negatively. When you expressed your worries to Aaron one night after Jack went to sleep, he immediately put them to an end.
“I don’t know if you knew this but Hayley knew about you. Jack would talk to her about you … and she enjoyed it— listening to how much you cared for her little boy,” Aaron told you as you both stood leaning against the island in his dimly lit kitchen before you left for the night.
“I didn’t know that,” you answered, eyes beginning to gloss.
So what if he left out the small detail of Hayley telling him he should ask out his pretty neighbor Jack always talked about; that wasn’t the important part of the memory, well, important for the matter at hand anyway.
“And almost every night before bed, Jack tells me that he’s happy you’ve been coming everyday. That you make him feel ‘okay-er’. Y/N, he loves you and he knows you’re not here to replace anyone.”
Mind at ease then, with a small smile and a stray tear or two, you pushed yourself off the kitchen island and hugged yourself into his chest, which he more than happily accepted and embraced you tightly into for a minute.
“Thanks for making me feel ‘okay-er’ about all this,” you said, looking up at him from where your head rested against him.
He smiled down at you and wiped a tear from your cheek. “Thank you for being here for us.”
All was well as the days went on until it was time for Aaron to return to work. Jack had returned to school the day before and since everything went smoothly, Aaron could then confidently go back to work too knowing Jack had readjusted just fine.
But that morning, Aaron took longer than usual to come out dressed for the day after breakfast, and the time frame he could use to take Jack to school before work was starting to get dangerously close to closing.
“Hey Jack, I’m going to go check on your dad. If he doesn’t come out soon you just might be late for school. Stay put while I get him, finish watching your show,” you said, tickling his side a little making him giggle as you walked off to Aarons room.
You knocked twice at his door and when he didn’t answer either time, you took a little bit of a risk and went in uninvited. What you saw was him sitting on the edge of his bed, looking down at the floor pensively, dress shirt untucked and tie undone around his collar.
“Aaron?” you spoke quietly.
“I can’t do this,” he said, still looking down.
You closed the door behind you and slowly walked towards him.
“You can’t do what?”
“Return to the real world.”
Your eyebrows furrowed a bit as you sat down next to him and waited for him to continue.
“It’s been- it’s been so great being here in the apartment with just Jack and you… in our own little private world but I’m afraid— it just all feels so different. I feel different. I don’t think I’m going back mentally the same way I left.”
“Well of course you’re not going back the same. You went through something incredibly traumatizing..”
You grabbed one of the bottom edges of his tie and looked down at your fingers as you delicately ran them back and forth over the smooth silk.
“Aaron, I know you’re a little nervous of stepping back into everyday life and I’m.. a little nervous for you too but you got this. I believe in you. You’re the best at what you do and nobody can take that away from you,” you said, letting go of the tie. When you looked up at him, his eyes were on you and seemed to be full of fondness; it made you blush.
“N-now finish getting ready so you can go drop off that adorable little boy out there in time,” you smiled, nervously standing from where you sat next to him.
As you turned to walk away, he stood too and stretched his hand out to gently grab one of your wrists. You turned back completely and both just looked into each other’s eyes for a few seconds; millions of unspoken words and emotions passing between you.
He then finally spoke.
“I really hope I’m not ruining anything but more than ever, I think it’s important to tell you I’ve had feelings for you for pretty much as long as I’ve known you.”
“I’ve had those feelings too, for you,” you admitted.
Relieved, he smiled and you did the same. Slipping his hand down from your wrist, he then took your hand into his properly and interlocked his fingers with yours.
Towering over you like always, he stepped closer and closer and slowly craned his head down as he gently placed the hand that wasn’t holding yours, behind your head. You both closed your eyes and you could feel his lips right in front of yours but could tell he was hesitant to go further.
“Kiss me Aaron,” you told him with a little tremble in your voice. And although you couldn’t see him, you felt him smile before he softly pushed his lips against yours.
Your first kiss was a tender one but after the initial pull away, both his hands landed on your waist and yours around his neck as you leaned back into each other for a more heated and passionate kiss. It was an internal struggle, but eventually you managed to pull yourself away from his lips completely.
“Jack needs to get to school,” you giggled.
Aaron rested his forehead against yours. “And I need to get to work. This beautiful neighbor of mine believes in me and I don’t want to let her down.”
“Hm, sounds like a smart girl,” you teased.
He stood tall and interlocked his hands with each of yours. “Incredibly smart, incredibly caring, incredibly attractive.. the list could go on,” he concluded, embracing you with a warm hug and a kiss to the top of your head. <3
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner fic
69 notes
·
View notes
Text
Soft and Innocent Part I 18+ Aemond x Sister Reader(OC.) Hints of Aegon x Sister reader (OC.)
Warnings: 18+ content, hints of SA, (Didnt happen but assumptions are made.) But Certain Character has OC watch scene take place for "Education." But he's just a pervvy sicko no surprise there...
A/N: .Mostly soft beginning for the most part a bit Angsty and such lots of hugging and seeking comfort from the Broody Brother. New to writing these sort of things for readers to read I am down for good criticism I try my best and never intend to offend or upset anyone with my writing with that being said enjoy...sorry for any bad grammar and punctuation :)
Aemond sat at the hearth of his fireplace.....thinking and brooding when his younger sister barged in....the Sweet and Innocent little sister....the Soft and Gentle....she had swollen eyes, as if crying a thousand tears she looked and seemed upset.
Sister? He asked calmly, keeping his stoic expression but his tone was laced with concern.
“Is it true....Brother?” She asked as tears welled up in her eyes.
“Come here.” Aemond said as he sat in his seat and held out a hand to her to sit beside him. As she walked over and took a seat. Aemond placed a hand on her head to stroke her head and soft thick off white hair in a soothing manner.
“What is? What is the matter, sweet sister? Who has done you harm?” He asked in a firm but gentle tone.
She comes over and cries against him. “Aegon said....s-said things.” She whimpered and blubbered against her favorite older brother.
Aemond's eyes widened slightly as he held his youngest sister close to him in a brotherly embrace to soothe her tears which fell against his shoulder.
“Aegon said what? Why were you doing with him in the first place?” He asked gently pushing her off him and he grabbed her shoulders so she may meet his gaze as his gaze seemed to darken with each word.
His little sister sniffles and wipes away those tears, from her violet eyes.
“He....He wanted to show me things.” She admitted to him and she looked at him innocently.
“What things?” Aemond's tone darkened further; he could only come with one thought in mind....which was why his face darkened and eyes narrowed further. Gripping her shoulders more.
“I.....I can't say.” She said getting flustered and upset even more, His sweet sister couldn't even look at his good eye, which only heightened his worry and concern more. “Did He put his hands on you?” he asked out loud and she started blubbering more.
Aemond's eyes widened slightly yet again as he looked at his sweet and innocent sister as if he guessed correctly. It angered him that his brother would do something like this to their sister and not just her but any maiden of the castle. “You were touched? Sister, did he touch you?” Aemond asked in a cold and harsh tone as fury burned through his veins.
“No.....He Just ... .He said he wished to educate me....and...and he had me watch......as....as he and....some.....girl and him.” She said sobbing. “They were….coupling.” She whimpered and trembled folding her arms and shivered at the recent memories of tonight. “He didn't want me to…..be surprised when I got properly taken on my wedding day he said.” She said in tears.
Aemond's blood boiled in a way he had never felt before as his vision began to turn red. How dare our brother try to corrupt her innocence like this. A pure and sweet soul. How dare he do such a heinous thing and not even have the right to touch her? Aemond's hand clenched into a fist so tight that his nails dig into his skin....causing blood to come to the surface.
“I will take care of this.” Aemond simply as he gently squeezed her shoulder to reassure her that she would not be harmed.
“No....No don't leave me.” She cried, grabbing his arm.
“I promise you I will not leave you.” Aemond said as he gently wiped her tears away with his thumb and cupped her cheek in a reassuring and calming manner. It was to let her know that he will be back and she is in safe hands. “I am just going to have to have something to do about this, alright?” He asked as his eyes hardened with determination. “I will not have you be afraid, sweet sister.” Aemond said reassuringly to her as he held her close to him to give her a sense of security.
“No....no you mustn't," She whimpered and she embraced him and she gulped. “Aegon told me....he.....he did something similar with you....taking you to a brothel on your 13th name day.” She said sniffling. “Is it true what he had you do?” His sister asked gently and she nuzzled against him.
Aemond's eyes widened a little. Surprised that she knew of that. Aemond's hand let go of her cheek and dropped to his thigh as he looked at the fireplace with a dark and dangerous expression. “Yes.....it was something of a dare at the time.” Aemond said as he turned his gaze back to her. “But you are not me, sister. You are so innocent and pure that you need to be protected. I will not allow you to be corrupted.” Aemond said as he gave her a reassuring hug.
She sniffled and embraced him tightly. “Oh Aemond..” She whimpered against him.
Aemond gently embraced her back and buried his head into her hair inhaling her scent, a natural floral scent she always had upon her person, and closed his eyes as he inhaled her sweet scent. Letting her calm down and just allowing himself to hold her. “Have I ever told you sister?” Aemond simply said in a soft and gentle tone as he held her.
“How you truly mean to me? How much I love you? How much I want to see you smile and protect your sweet innocence?” He asked in a softer tone as they held one another in the center of his bedchambers.
She sniffled and pulled back looking at him shaking her head no. “And ....you're my favorite brother, Aemond don’t forget that ever okay?” She stated and asked, wiping away her tears pouting her lips.
“Well then...I want you to know that all of those things I said are true.” Aemond said as he looked at her with a small hint of a smile. He gently held her chin with his fingers and looked into her eyes with such a deep softness and affection that he has never shown anyone else before. “I want you to stay as sweet and innocent for as long as you can, alright? As your big brother...it is my duty to make sure you're happy and protected.” Aemond said as he kissed her forehead.
She tears up. “Aegon is so mean….” She said and embraced him some more.
Aemond's eyes darkened and narrowed at the mere mention of his brother.
“Yes....he can be mean. I'm sorry my sweet sister, you had to have felt frightened and sad.” He said into her hair “I will make sure he never comes near you again.” Aemond said as he held her in a tight and protective embrace. “Now...if anyone bothers you....come to me. I will show them what it means to mess with you and I.” Aemond said as he gently lifted her chin up with his fingers and gave her a small yet sweet smile.
She looked at him with still tears streaming down her rosy cheeks and she nodded. “Okay Lēkia.” (Older Brother.) She’d say with her gentle voice.
Aemond smiled softly as he gently brushed the tears away with his thumb.
“There....now dry your tears, sweet sister.” Aemond said as gently gave her a reassuring smile as he wiped away the last of her tears and placed a hand on her head and began to gently pat it with a gentle and affectionate manner. “And don't call me older brother....call me big brother. I quite fancy that more.”
She giggled slightly. “Oh Aemond, still correcting me.” She said sighing, sounding a bit more like herself, She sniffled and embraced him.
Aemond chuckled softly and placed a gentle kiss onto the top of her head. Then gently rested his head on hers as she embraced him. “I will always have to correct you on that.” Aemond said softly with a chuckle. He closed his eyes slightly as he embraced her and held her close. Finding himself feeling a sense of peace that he never has felt with anyone else. And also finding himself wondering what it would be like if she was his wife with a family. Instead of his sister. But that would remain a fantasy.
#asoiaf#aemond targaryen#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen smut#house of the dragon fanfiction#house of the dragon au#aemond x reader#aegon ii targaryen#aegon targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x reader#Aemond x oc#ai image#ai generated art#prince aemond targaryen#aemond fanfiction#aemond smut#aemond fic
77 notes
·
View notes
Text
"Charles. You promised."
Charles, sprawled on the ground with his feet up against the walls of the office, lowers the cover of his current volume to send an apologetic smile Edwin's way.
"Well I didn't know you meant right away, did I?"
Edwin cannot help a sigh. They have had some variation of this conversation at least once a year since they met, and Charles has yet to actually submit to any sort of schooling. This time, however, Edwin prepared for the inevitable.
"That was also your argument the last time we had this conversation," Edwin sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. "As well as the previous time. And as I recall—"
"Look, Edwin," Charles interrupts, looking up at Edwin again with a half pleading look, "I just really don't like the idea of fighting."
"Sometimes, fighting is the only way," Edwin points out.
He himself has bitterly regretted his avoidance of combat sports as a living boy on many, many an occasion. Who knows how things would have changed, if he had known then a fraction of what he knows now? Perhaps he would have lived. At the very least, he might have died fighting, and avoided Hell altogether. Of course, that would have meant never meeting Charles, but he would not have known that. He would have been blissfully ignorant of what true suffering feels like.
Edwin sighs, then makes himself blink. There is no point in dwelling on the past, especially if it makes Charles look at him with his worried frown, book forgotten on his chest. Edwin attempts a smile, though the look Charles sends him in response does not speak of success.
"I know," he sighs, hard enough to jostle the cross in his ear. "But you'll be there to defend me, yeah?"
Always, Edwin thinks. He is, however, cruelly aware that things do not always happen the way one plans for. Sometimes, students who may have had a very satisfying academic career die and must learn to fight to escape literal Hell. These things are unfair, but they happen. And the thought of Charles, trapped defenseless as Edwin once was... It is unbearable. It does not bear contemplating.
"Charles," Edwin pleads, hearing the touch of despair in his voice. "I will protect you as best as I can for as long as I exist here with you... But there may be times when I am not enough. I might be away and need some time to find you, or—any number of things could happen to keep me from your side. It would ease my mind to know that you have the skills to keep yourself alive until such time as I am able to take up the task again."
For a moment, Charles says nothing. He stares at Edwin, with his bright brown eyes the color of rich soil, with that smile he gets when he thinks Edwin is being particularly chivalrous. Edwin sustains his gaze, sweat filling his palms...and sighs in relief when Charles takes a deep breath and stands up.
"Alright, mate," he says, softly. "Fine. What am I learning then, how to throw a punch?"
"That would be the more sensible choice," Edwin admits around his own smile. "However, since I know very well how distasteful you find any of these activities, I thought perhaps I would appeal to your other sensibilities."
Charles makes an inquisitive noise as Edwin rummages in the coffer he prepared for this exact purpose earlier. He finds the tricorns first, handing one to a bemused Charles before donning his own. The way Charles frowns is as endearing as ever, and Edwin smiles as he reaches back into the coffer to find the sabers.
Charles gasps.
"Get out! You're not seriously teaching me how to be a pirate!"
"I should think you have seen ample evidence to belt that sentence," Edwin points out with a roll of his eyes.
Charles, of course, ignores the barb entirely.
"Can you say 'Ahoy, matey?'"
"Do take this seriously please." Charles sobers up, although his grin remains. As a reward, Edwin makes a point to demonstrate an old fashioned salute before he says: "En garde."
Charles smiles as brightly as if Edwin had told him Christmas would come early.
(Reblogs make the world go round! Consider sharing this if you enjoyed it!)
#Matt writes#dbd fanfic#dead boy detectives#Charles Rowland#edwin payne#s: role swapped DBD#bc let's be real: I will likely write more of this someday#10n#20n#40n#50n
55 notes
·
View notes
Text
May Prompts (12)
Day 11 here.
Family
It’s funny the degree to which having a real family shifted his priorities.
Maybe not funny, but surprising. At least to him.
His entire life, family had felt like an obligation more than anything else. His mother meant well, but she didn’t really know how to parent. His dad was a drunk arsehole. And the least said about Harry the better.
No wonder he’d ended up fighting in a war across the world.
Obligation was exactly how Mary had felt at the end. But despite his spiral after her death (and the resulting piss poor parenting that took all the worst elements from his own parents style), his love for Rosie had been fierce and unwavering. She hadn’t been an obligation, but a gift he didn’t deserve. She got him through.
Well, her and Sherlock. Once John finally let himself acknowledge that Sherlock had become like family himself, things slowly got easier. John was happier. Suddenly, family was love.
But, that can complicate things at times. Balancing the wants and needs of the two members of his family against each other and his own.
Sherlock has been here with him at the hospital all day. After Sherlock first arrived this morning, they spent about a half hour talking about what happened. The thief, the chase, John’s fall. Not surprising, really, given their choice of profession. Although perhaps a bit of a wake up call. John isn’t as young as he used to be, and now he has a child to consider.
John had also hoped to talk about the intruder and see if Sherlock had any theories. He promptly fell asleep instead. And slept for over six hours. Understandable maybe, but embarrassing all the same.
Sherlock was still there when he woke up. John is fairly certain the man never left his bedside. And for twenty minutes, they have been discussing the intruder—the evidence gathered so far (limited, much to Sherlock’s hilarious annoyance) and theories on motives. It’s wonderful and John hates to cut it short, but he knows he must.
Molly would likely agree to pick up Rosie from nursery. Mrs. Hudson too. But they’ve never done it before and, under the circumstances, that will scare Rosie. Right now her comfort takes precedence over John’s and Sherlock’s wants and needs.
Sherlock is currently ranting about security measures in the hospital. To be honest, John stopped paying attention to the details a couple minutes ago. He opens his mouth to interrupt, but is beaten to the punch when Sherlock stops abruptly and stands up.
“Sorry, John. I need to head to the nursery now. If I pick up Rosie a bit early, there will be time for a short visit here for. The timing will be perfect for her tea.” He puts on his coat. “The cafeteria has cut fruit, goldfish, yogurt, and some rather boring pasta dishes that she’ll probably like. It should be sufficient.”
John finds himself smiling broadly. “You are going to get Rosie.”
Sherlock rolls his eyes and the sight warms John’s insides. “Of course, I am getting Rosie. This will be a very stressful time for little Watson. After our visit here, I will take her home and put her to bed. Molly has agreed to spend the night at your house again so I can leave.”
“Oh yes, of course,” John says. “You’ll be wanting to get back to Baker street.”
Sherlock looks at John like he’s the biggest idiot in the world. It’s ridiculous how much John loves that look. “I’m coming back here, John. Why would I go to Baker Street?” He shakes his head and makes his way to the door. “Do sleep now, so we can continue working tonight. Gerald has managed to finagle his way on to the case, so the Yard may actually prove helpful. He will be coming by at 9 to go over what little evidence they have.” He pauses. “Don’t tell Gerald I said he might be useful.”
John chuckles. “I believe visiting hours end at 8.”
“That doesn’t apply to you,” Sherlock says with a dismissive wave. John doesn’t doubt it.
And with that, Sherlock is gone. But, soon to return with Rosie in tow. John smiles to himself. This family thing is pretty great. He doesn’t deserve her. Doesn’t deserve them.
Despite his injuries, he’s one lucky bastard.
@keirgreeneyes @raina-at @totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @jolieblack @phoenix27884 @friday411 @calaisreno @quimerasyutopias @lisbeth-kk @safedistancefrombeingsmart @momma2boys @helloliriels
61 notes
·
View notes
Text
Guys. The Forbidden Five may have been mentioned in season 4 already.
So when Sensei G begins explaining where elemental powers come from, he says this: “Everyone on this ship is a descendant of an original elemental master.” […] “They were the First Spinjitzu Master’s Guardians. Each endowed with an elemental power that has been passed down through generations.”
We never get to find out more about these “Guardians” that Garmadon mentions (he himself does not elaborate further), but he does mention the Elemental Master of Light. Now. Could this just be an old elemental master that we never saw or heard about before? Of course. But something about the power of Light makes me think too much of something ancient and overtly powerful in order for it to just be a random element— not to mention the fact that Light could be associated with Creation, so perhaps even with the FSM himself. I could even see that Light could be one of the not yet named Source Dragons. The Five are said to have been “elemental masters who turned evil” (said by Bonzle in s2ep5), but we never know why or in what way they turned evil. What if the FSM asked five of the Source Dragons to allow these five guardians to handle their powers, only for the Five to be corrupted or in another way turned to evil?
This would also explain how elemental powers would have been able to pass from the Source Dragons into people; The Five, while they were the Guardians to the FSM, or even before that, may have had families and even children, who then had at the very least similar powers to theirs (because I don’t think a random child could handle having the full elemental powers of a source dragon lol), which was obviously proceeded with elemental powers being spread across the realm(s) and creating slight variations of similar elements, such as fire and heat, or even water and ice.
I may absolutely be reaching here, or maybe I’m trying to tie in the old tournament season with the new tournament (again. (it just keeps happening)), but this specific line has stuck with me when I rewatched season 4, and, really, if they were ever going to tie smth back to that season it could be this.
#my rambling habits need to be stopped seriously#cable rants#ninjago#ninjago dragons rising#ninjago theory#ninjago season 4#dragons rising#dragons rising spoilers#..kind of#ninjago dragons rising theory#ninjago fsm#first spinjitzu master#ninjago forbidden five#ninjago source dragons
39 notes
·
View notes
Text
Chapter 10 - Paranoia
"You... are one of OUR products, Matchstick. Don't forget that."
~*~
Mystic
Tikki works on her own omelet in comfortable silence, letting her guest relax by the fire while she filled her own egg patty with her additions of choice. Once her folded egg taco was on the plate, she drizzled some kind of red liquid over top of it, and took up those metal tools he could never quite understand the purpose of. Lifting her plate, she goes to sit at the couch, and- uses the tiny knife and spoked thing to poke and cut her omelet, eating it off the utensils.
Oh. That’s what they were for. She didn’t need to get food on her hands at all.
…
“Have you been on the streets your whole life?” Tikki asks, quiet.
Spooky
He looks up from watching her cut the omelet and poke it with the pronged thing, before frowning a little and shaking his head no.
No, being on the streets was a relatively new thing for him. In a way, he had kind of lucked out that adaptability was part of his training, otherwise he may not've survived very long, but... This probably wasn't what they had in mind while training him. It was more for use in battle.
He glances down at the floor in front of him, wishing he still had the snow and stick to help him explain things. The best thing he could do for now, though, was try and sum up everything he could into one word, and force it out of his uncooperative throat.
"L.. ll- laa... b," he rasps, looking back at her.
Mystic
Tikki, who had been mid-bite of her own omelet, chokes on the piece of food. She has to pound on her chest for a second before the food is dislodged, and she can breathe again.
In just one word, that was- quite a bit of information to swallow. Just like her omelet.
"I'm- hkf- sorry," Tikki apologizes, rubbing at her throat for a moment. "You- wh- but- how-? You came from a lab? Excuse me? As in- wait-"
She frowns, staring into space. He can see it in her eyes- she was putting together a lot of puzzle pieces. She sets aside the plate, losing her appetite in this moment.
"...that- suddenly a lot of things make sense. But- why were you in a lab?"
Spooky
He looked alarmed when she choked on her food, but once she'd dealt with that enough to ask him more questions, he ducked his head slightly and slid his hand over the nape of his neck. He gave a small shrug, mainly because he didn't know how he'd got there. He couldn't really remember being anywhere else, leading him to think that maybe he was born there…? Though there were some things he could just barely recall that seemed to contradict that.
He knew what trees were, before he’d even escaped. They'd never let him outside, not once, but he could picture outside, sometimes in dreams... And there were other things, too. Faded voices and shapes, and strong emotions attached that left him feeling lost, scared, and like he'd been hollowed out whenever he thought about it too hard.
So usually, he didn't.
All he had for an answer as to why he was there was what they were developing him for.
"...w... wepn," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact and looking back at the burning fireplace.
Mystic
...There's a long pause.
Even though he wasn't facing her, he could feel her eyes boring into him. Analyzing.
Behind his back, the scales on the back of Tikki's arm start to stand on end. She clasps at her forearms with her hands, clenching her jaw as she wills the beast back into the depths, forcing the scales back down.
The thought, and all the implications it carried, made her so, so angry. But she just got back to normal from a shift- if she let it happen again so soon, it would exhaust her. She'd be so depleted of energy that she wouldn't want to move for a week, and she wasn't in a position to let that happen anymore.
"...Okay," she says, finally. A brief, forceful exhale as she quells her outrage for his sake. "I see why you ran away, now."
Tikki puts her chin in one hand, thinking. Then her eyes flick to the door. Then back to him in worry.
"...Am I gonna get in trouble with the law or something if someone finds out you're in my house? Are YOU in trouble with whoever you ran from?"
Not that she was particularly bothered by the idea of someone reprehensible showing up at the door. She'd welcome the opportunity to feed someone a knuckle sandwich and have it be sweet justice. But not at the cost of somebody else being put in danger.
Spooky
Feeling her staring, he glanced back at her, worried he'd made her angry at him. He could sense the tension, and his eyes turned downwards as he fidgeted with his hands.
Her questions didn't assuage his nerves any, either... because he had, if only for a brief time due to the distractions and curious things in this house, forgotten he was being hunted.
He was hesitant to answer, worried that confirming this fact would get him thrown out. Tikki was nice, but to get involved in anything like this seemed like too much to ask of anyone.
He didn't know what this 'law' was, but he knew the Aria Corporation was big, and they had a lot of resources. Hell, their damn logo still haunted him whenever he sneaked into town, never truly letting him forget that he wasn't safe.
...It wasn't fair not to tell her, though. To not at least try and warn her about what she was getting into if she let him stay in her home.
Looking conflicted, he finally nodded. Setting aside his disc, he reached down and tried to trace a shape on the rug with his finger, but it wasn't very clear.
Mystic
A long, sad sigh.
"...ok. I figured."
Tikki glances at the rug, leaning to see what he was drawing- but she couldn't make anything out from here. Hm. Maybe he was just doodling from the stress. She did sorta put him on the spot, all of the sudden.
"...well, I'm not going to just let you freeze to death in the snow," she says, frowning. "And whoever uses a kid test subject for scientific experiments is super fucked up, I'll tell you that."
Standing up from the couch, she moves to sit on the rug next to him, scooting a bit closer so she's near enough for expression of comfort, but just at the edge of his personal space. She looks down at the carpet as she talks, idly trying to decipher his finger-drawing on the floor.
"I don't have much to offer, Sticks. I do have a roof, and food, sometimes. I don't make a lot of money, and I'm dealing with my own demons- but I'd still like to help you, somehow. If you want it?"
Spooky
He doesn't seem able to get the tracing of his finger across, so he stops. The best that could be deciphered from it was that he seemed to be writing an 'A' for part of it. If he was trying to make a word, though, the rest of the scrawl was incomprehensible. There didn't seem to be any other letters, and even the A was kind of questionable.
He looked unsure at her offer, not because he was keen on turning his figurative nose up at it though. Moreso, he was worried. She already had stress from turning into the silver beast, and didn't have much money, and... he didn't know what 'demons' were, but that didn't sound good either.
...
But at the same time, he didn't wanna go back to taking his chances in that hole in the ground. Not after he knew what being in a warm house on a soft rug, with not one but TWO blankets was like.
His eyes searched her expression. She really did seem to want to help...
He hugged his pillow close and gave a little nod, before resting his chin on it.
Mystic
He feels more than sees her hand clasp onto his shoulder, squeezing once in reassurance before letting go.
"Okay," she says, offering him a little smile. "I'll do what I can."
Tikki leans back to the couch again, and takes her plate with the half-eaten omelet. She sets it on the carpet and slides it over to him, letting it rest by his knee.
"Here- you can have the rest of mine. I wasn't very hungry, anyway."
A lie. Shifting consumed a lot of calories she had to replenish, which she had every intention of doing so later when he was asleep or something. But right now, she lost her appetite. At least this way the food wouldn't go to waste.
Tikki stands up, stretching her shoulders and wiggling her webbed toes.
"I don't know a lot about you, and that's fine- you don't have to share what you don't want to." Tikki scratches behind her head, starting back towards the kitchen to start cleaning. "Just let me know how I can best help you, alright?"
Spooky
He looked from the offered omelet half to her, before he picked it up with his hand and stuffed it in his mouth, licking the remaining red sauce off his fingers. This had a different taste than his, but was still good!
He didn't seem as keen to get up, covered in fluffy blankets as he was. While he wasn't full, his stomach was no longer empty, and going from being outside in the snow with almost no clothes for most of the day to taking a hot bath and sitting all bundled up next to a roaring fireplace... Sleepiness was definitely setting in, and his eyelids drooped.
He nodded in response to her, rubbing at one of his eyes with the palm of his hand.
"Th... thanks," he said, straining to try and be louder since she had walked back to the kitchen. Oof, probably wasn't the best idea. Fuck, he wished he could figure out how to fix his broken voice. It'd been a long time since he'd heard what it sounds like normally, but he knew it wasn't supposed to sound like this.
Mystic
Tikki glances back in his direction at the sound of the voice crack. Ouch. That sounded very unpleasant. Did speaking cause him pain? Maybe his throat was damaged from... whatever happened to him in the 'lab'.
She tried not to think about it. He wasn't there, now.
"It's no trouble," she says, offering another smile as she removes the pan to wash it. "Nobody should have to live on the street- especially not kids."
In the background, Tikki quietly goes about making some hot apple cider. It was just a cheap packet mix, but it was easy, and fast. The water boils gently on the stove while she cleans up the containers of omelet fillings, and puts away all the washed dishes once she'd dried them with a kitchen towel.
She is left to ponder in silence for a while. He'd never seen silverware, didn't know how to feed or take care of himself. Laboratories that tested on humans- at least, he might be human, she really wasn't sure- evidently still existed, and were doing shady shit like turning children into weapons. That was the most she could ascertain from his broken speech and limited information. Whoever was responsible, they were probably out looking for this kid. And if she was caught with him in custody, if she was lucky, she'd be left alone- but he would no doubt be taken back to whatever hell he endured.
She had seen the rocky injuries all over his back. She couldn't begin to comprehend what would cause that. It looked a little better after he was able to bathe, but there was still a substantial amount of rock crust covering his spine. She was hesitant to touch it, or ask about it in case it was sensitive.
Steam hisses from the kettle, and she turns off the stove burner. Water is poured into mugs, and Tikki shakes out the cider mix into the mugs, pouring honey into both. Stirring them with spoons, she walks back out into the living room to check on him.
"I've got hot cider, for your throat," she says, rounding the couch.
Spooky
He looked like he'd gone into almost a kind of sleepy trance, watching the flames dance on the logs...
But he perked back up a little when Tikki returned with- Oh! He'd seen these before, sometimes he would see people at the lab walking or standing around with these little handled cylinders in their hands, usually in the hallways when he was being transported to another area. He never knew what was in them, but they had a nice smell...
These smelled good too, but in a different way. When Tikki handed one over to him, he took it and held it in both hands, peering down at the unfamiliar drink. Unsure how to proceed, he dipped his tongue into it to give it a taste.
Mystic
The immediate taste was sweet, with a hint of spice that wasn't quite the same as the red thing he ate earlier. What did Tikki call it? 'Pepper'? This was different. It was hot, though, and the little bit he managed to swallow off his own tongue actually soothed his aching throat a little, more than water had up until this point.
Tikki, seeing this, chuckles into her own mug that she had just lifted to her face.
"Okay, that was pretty cute," she says, snickering. "And you have a lava tongue?? Weird, and cool. But yeah- you drink it like this."
Tikki demonstrates, holding the mug in her hands up to her chin and tipping it back a little, taking a gulp of the liquid inside before tipping it back down, swallowing with a satisfied exhale.
"It has honey in it, which is a natural remedy for throat problems," she explains, sipping more of her own drink before continuing. "I've had to use it before when shifting damaged my voice for a day or two. Should help, I think. And if it gets too cold, you can always reheat it."
Spooky
He flushed with a faint glow at her comments, but did his best to mimic the demonstration, slowly tipping and attempting a sip with a noisy slurp.
...Holy shit! A way to drink without getting it all over himself! He looked down at the mug with big eyes full of wonder. This was awesome!
He was quick to drink the rest of it down, steam spilling from his mouth when he lowered the mug and exhaled afterwards. The honey coated his throat, making it feel less sore after his attempts to talk. His glowing tongue poked out again, licking his lips.
Mystic
Another chuckle from Tikki.
"I mean this in the best way- you're like a big puppy," she jokes, watching the steam puff up towards her ceiling. "A lanky, fire-breathing puppy."
Sipping her cider, she sighs, getting up from the carpet one last time.
"You look ready to pass out, so I'm going to let you rest. You can use the couch, or stay on the carpet, whatever you feel like- sleep well, Sticks."
And with that, she walks off to the rest of her house, presumably to wind down for the rest of her afternoon. It wasn't far past midday, but she'd had an exhausting morning, and she figured he did as well.
Spooky
His expression briefly turned to confusion as he tried to figure out what a puppy was, but he shrugged it off, setting down the now empty mug. He was very sleepy, and probably would've been content to just sleep next to the fireplace, though without anything to prop him up he kept slowly listing to the side until he'd jerk back upright with a start.
He let out a tired grumble and crawled like a blankety slug across the floor until he was at the couch, where he leaned back against the side of it. It was definitely softer than the dirt had been, and the blankets added extra cushioning. Hugging the pillow close, he curled up and rested his head on it, so cozy that he drifted off in no time.
...
"You really thought you could just leave... Didn't you?"
His eyes shot open at the familiar cold voice of the ponytailed man, Dr. Rainer... but he didn't see him anywhere when he looked around the living room. It was nighttime now and the fireplace had gone out, bathing the room in darkness, and any warmth seemed to have been sucked out of the house along with it.
Then, a red dot appeared in the window. Followed by another, then another, and they continued to multiply until they were peering in through every window, swarming, a buzzing sound reverberating off the walls and leaving him rattled. Drones.
With a smash of glass they set upon him, giving him barely even any time to stand before they were already on him, a writhing mass of buzzing motors and claw arms, reaching and scratching and grabbing. He managed to fight back, blasting them with fire and setting his fists crunching into metal when they got too close, but there were always more to take their place.
"No matter where you scurry off to, you can never truly abandon your purpose. You know that, don't you?"
Metal parts crunched underfoot as he continued to doggedly fight against a neverending onslaught, pouring in through the windows like wasps from a nest.
Suddenly, another piercing pain lanced through the back of his neck, near the base of his skull, his vision blurring and going white for a few moments as he was brought to his hands and knees.
When he opened his eyes again, the drones were gone, and the room was quiet... But as he remained there, trying to catch his breath, he realized something very quickly. He couldn't move.
"Stand."
To his dawning horror, he stood up. Without trying to. His body was moving without his input. His eyes wouldn't even budge when he tried to look around.
"You... are one of OUR products, Matchstick. Don't forget that. Now... Destroy."
NO!
It was too late. Fire sparked and climbed up his limbs, engulfing his body in flames that started to catch on the floor around him. He raised his arms and sent blasts of fireballs careening around him, smashing walls and furniture, anything not annihilated on impact would perish in the blaze... The walls buckled in the inferno. Chunks of ceiling fell. This house was done for, and everyone in it, including Tikki.
And as he distantly heard her screams, he felt...
nothing.
-!!!
Heart hammering in his chest, his eyes opened for real this time and he sat bolt upright with a gasp, prompting a coughing fit. Smoke spiraling out of his mouth, he tried to catch his breath and regain his bearings.
Mystic
The house is quiet. Besides his panting breaths and his heart trying to decide if it wanted to break his ribcage and escape, there was no sound beyond the distant hum of the heater in the walls. The fire- which appeared to have had an extra log placed on it at some point- had burned low until all that was left were charred husks, and a pile of glowing embers. It produced only a faint pop and hiss, along with the lightest aura of remaining warmth.
The house is dark. Just like in his nightmare- but there's no voice to taunt him in the shadows. The windows, which had been an open view out into the world, were covered by thick drawn curtains. Nothing could see inside, not even the searching cameras of the drones he knew were looking for him out in the city. No light is leaking past the borders of those curtains, either. He'd passed out somewhere around noon. Had he slept so long that it was nighttime?
The house is empty. Tikki is nowhere to be seen. A door at the far end of the corridor across the living room is shut. Perhaps she was there, or perhaps she left.
A hand flies quickly to the back of his neck-
-and he feels nothing. No robotic devices, no grasping claw-like limbs, no collar, and no needle stabbing into his skin. All that he finds is... the pre-existing injection site, that had long since healed over.
He was alone with his blankets and his pillow, a dying fire in the fireplace, and the lingering terror of the nightmare.
Spooky
Despite the realization that it had been a bad dream, and that there were no threats in sight, he still felt almost afraid to move for a while. He pulled the blankets up around him like it was a barrier, camouflage to hide him from whatever lurked through his imagination.
Still, he couldn't go back to sleep. Not without making sure everything was okay... So holding the pillow and clutching one of the blankets around him, he got up and checked the perimeter, wandering through the living room and down the hall, peeking in through the doors just to be safe.
Mystic
…So far, everything seemed to be clear.
The kitchen still smelled like the food Tikki made earlier - ‘om-lets’, or something. The burners in the stove were off, and all the dishes had been cleaned and returned to their rightful places.
The living room was the same. The book he picked up still sat haphazardly on the stack when he set it aside. The fire was still dying, the firewood stack neatly piled.
The windows were unshattered; no glass or broken drones littered the floor from his imagined combat. Peeking beyond the curtains showed a gentle fall of snow from the sky, and a dark, starless night filled with clouds.
…
Paying close attention to the house let him notice a few things. The scratches from the driveway were present here, too- they had been spackled and repaired wherever possible, but the signs of wear persisted. Wooden furniture was bent or scored in places, as if something big had clumsily scraped by it. These must be the signs of whenever Tikki transforms against her will, identical to what he found outside. This was a small abode to contain the oversized- whatever it is she turns into.
The door at the end of the hall has the most prominent damage, where the frame is buckled up and outward in a couple places, and the hinges had been repaired multiple times.
What did she say again? ’Shifting outside sucks because she can’t fit through the door,’ or something.
…There’s a faint buzzing sound coming from the door. She was probably asleep, oblivious to his nighttime panic.
Spooky
The sound was sort of like the breathing noises she made while asleep as the silver beast, but smaller... It wasn't like the buzz of drones, this was far less harsh and only happened at intervals instead of continuously. Still, just in case, he listened for a bit, before gathering up the nerve to open the door just a crack and peek inside.
Mystic
The inside of Tikki’s room was also dark, all lights in the room turned off save for a single lamp in the shape of a spiny fish plugged into a wall socket. There were more plants in hanging pots, some with flowers that wafted a sweet scent. A fan overhead spun in a slow circle. Against one wall was a tank full of water, plants, pebbles, and several small fish that flitted about once the light from his eyes was upon them. A filter hummed quietly on the tank, the only other notable sound in the room.
On the bed was Tikki, fast asleep. She was haphazardly wrapped in a thick blanket of her own, and what was visible of her arms and legs was covered in some sort of cloth outfit with more fish stitched onto it. She had a book open next to her on the bed. Thin red lines on the sides of her neck produced the buzzing sound he’d been hearing, every time she breathes. Was that how she snores?
The fish in the tank all swim at once towards the corner nearest the bed, swimming frantically at the tank glass.
Tikki grunts, her snore sputtering as she reaches up and rubs at her face with one hand. Moving to sit up, she looks first towards the tank. A pause, ear fins twitching, before she looks towards the door. The mermaid squints, her eyes reflecting the light from the doorway as she sleepily processes.
”Nghf- Sticks…? I see… your eyes glowing.”
Spooky
The glowing eyes peering from the doorway glance to the side self-consciously and duck behind the door, though after a few moments, one came peeking back into view.
Yeah, she'd seen him, there was no point hiding. The door opened more and he stood in the threshold, huddled in his blanket, his tallness diminished in appearance somewhat by his nervous, slumped posture. He squeezed his pillow underneath his arm.
"S... sorry," he whispered, barely loud enough to be heard over the fish tank filter. "Checking... if safe." The honey must have helped somewhat, that was the most talking he'd managed in one go since they'd met!
Mystic
There's a pause as Tikki's sleepy brain works its way through what he just said.
"Oh..." she mumbles, yawning- and revealing a mouth absolutely full of sharp teeth. "It's... ok, Sticks. It's just you, me, and the guppies... they started yellin' the moment you-" another yawn "-opened the door."
She rubs at her face again, this time with both hands.
"You gonna- be ok...? Can you go back- to sleep...?"
Spooky
Guppies? He looked at the fish in the tank, though he hadn't heard them make any noise, let alone yell. He blinked, but turned his attention back to Tikki.
He nodded, but it was clear by how he was carrying himself that he was hesitant to go back to sleep. He was still tired, but fear had put him in a state of alertness despite that. Backing up from the door, he turned to go back down the hall. Maybe if he couldn't sleep, he could at least keep watch...
Mystic
"Wait."
Tikki grunts, scooting to the edge of her bed and rolling her legs over the side. She adjusts the sleeves of her colorful cloth attire, and digs around in her blankets. She removes something lumpy and plush from the bundle of blankets, standing up to approach the door.
"Here," Tikki says, holding out the object to him. "Holding this helped me relax when I first started living on land instead of the sea."
It was a stuffed lizard of some sort, but it had tiny plush spines on its back and a little pair of plush wings. Fabric fangs poked out of a sewn mouth underneath tiny black bead eyes.
"His name is Slithers. Maybe he'll help you feel safe, too."
Spooky
His glowing eyes blinked in the dark like two half-covered spotlights as he picked up the little soft... creature? He didn't know what it was, but it didn't seem to be alive. It appeared to be made out of the same kind of soft stuff the pillow was. The fabric that made up its plush hide had some kind of a spotted pattern that glimmered in the light of his eyes, like scales. Whatever this fake creature was, its appearance was endearing, and he smiled a little despite his anxiety.
He nestled it between the pillow and his body and gave a little nod to Tikki in thanks.
As he made his way back to the couch, he thought about what Tikki had said. She used to live in the sea... But what was that, exactly? A different town? He wondered how often she had to move. She had to hide too, right? If people found him scary to look at, they would absolutely find the silver beast to be scarier...
Getting to the couch, he took another look around the room. Still all clear. He was about to settle back down where he'd been before, when he stopped, noticing how his hand sunk down on the cushion of the couch when he started to kneel down on the rug. His eyes widened, and he squished the cushion with his hand.
This thing had pillows on it!
He got back up, and almost as if he wasn't sure if he was allowed to do this or not, he cautiously sat on the couch instead, curling up in the crook of the couch's arm. It felt like he had more defenses this way, being in a corner- and it was a very soft and squishy corner. It was like he was gonna sink into it, but he didn't- not enough to be alarming, anyway. This was a good spot...
Snuggling down in the blankets all curled up and hugging his legs, with the pillow and plush sandwiched between the front of his torso and the back of his thighs, he sat there in quiet comfort until he finally began to doze off again...
Mystic
...This time, he's unbothered by nightmares, or even dreams. The comforting blackness of exhaustion envelops him, and for now, he's allowed to sleep in the peaceful silence of nothingness.
~*~
Previous | Chapter Index | Next
New reader? You can start here!
#stickman#stickmanoc#stickman oc#mermaid oc#merperson#lab experiment oc#writing#original fiction#cosmic fiasco#cosmic fiasco cryptids#fedoraspooky#mysticdoodles
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'm really wondering about the order of events we learn of in "The Midnight Star" (MS) poem if only because some pieces of language aren't quite meshing with what we've previously known / potentially assumed
Elarion, trembling seed,
lay down to earth in icy night,
and in the cold
her roots took hold
defying winter’s deathly bite.
Elarion, fading bloom,
afraid to wilt and dim and die,
she searched the dark
for but a spark
and caught the dragons’ hungry eye.
We know Elarion was an early human settlement that eventually became the biggest in ancient Xadia (TOX). We know that this is happening prior to the stars leaving thanks to a later stanza. Moreover, this stanza indicates that the city was drawing the attention of the dragons, which is also hinted at in Ripples, "It happened long ago, when humans had only just learned to hold fire in their hands without burning. They nurtured their precious primal flames secretly—in the dark of night, beneath shadows and shrouds—as cultivating its glow drew the eyes and ire of monsters".
However, Elarion suffering and struggling to hold on doesn't quite make sense if it already had primal magic... unless the first stanza condenses these events, i.e. "she searched the dark for a spark" ("that secret becomes a spark, the tiniest flicker of a primal source inside you") and that's why the city initially caught negative attention from the dragons. But even then, that contradicts statements from Ripples, in which:
"he did not know the stars as I know them. He did not know their arrogance, how they had rejoiced to look down upon their newborn sea. Where once they’d watched errant flames burn with pride and undeserved power, there was now only stillness"
the Startouch / First Elves are the ones who — seemingly — cast Aaravos out and create the sea as an initial punishment for humanity because "humanity had been given something they were never meant to have."
But MS doubles down that it's the dragons threatening the city, and that humans are still assuming the First Elves might help them, only for the stars to refuse and leave:
Elarion, frightened waif,
reached bone-white branches to the night,
the stars she asked
their light to cast
and stop the dragons’ fiery might.
Elarion, unworthy whelp,
Wept as the stars turned black the sky,
They donned their masks
They turned their backs,
And left Elarion to die.
So Elarion/humans have been given primal magic by someone, who is probably Leola, a unicorn who may or may also be a startouch elf even though the First Elves disapproved (TOX, book 1: novelization). This makes the other First Elves angry and also seems to anger the dragons. When Elarion asks for protection from the First Elves against the dragons, they're ignored/abandoned.
This is, however, where MS starts to get tricky.
Elarion, dying husk,
did wilt and whimper in the dark,
‘till the last star
Reached from afar
His touch: a blaze, a gift, a spark.
Again, we see a spark, which has most been referred to in reference to primal magic, even seemingly earlier on in the poem. We also see gift, which seems like a blatant reference to dark magic: "So he gave us magic!" (4x07) and "Lay [the staff] down? But it was a gift" (3x01). We can also read it into this section from the Puzzle House in which Claudia quite explicitly uses magic that isn't primal, either:
He said it came from "a spark of fun" instead of primal sources, or...
And Kpp'Ar is a dark mage, and so is Claudia (in-training at this point), so it'd be within reason to assume this is some form of dark magic residue. But if it is... why not just call it that? Why make the distinction?
I think we can conclusively say there were at least two gifts given to humanity — the first was primal magic, and this seems to be more concrete. The second, assumedly, was dark magic at least in some form. But what if it was also more than that? I've talked before that as the Key of Aaravos seemingly functions now, it'd be most useful to a dark mage for categorizing spell parts/ingredients. The premonition dreams and weird blood connections between Star (Deep?) and dark magic are well known by now, even just looking at the sheer weirdness of whatever the fuck is going on with Ziard-Viren's relic staff.
The Midnight Star poem also does not help us much in figuring out the distinction between them, at least not at first glance.
Elarion, searing white,
Embraced the great one’s night-black flame.
And when she bowed,
Her faith avowed,
He whispered, “Aaravos,” his name.
Here, we get the dark-light motif pretty plainly. Fire fits with the primal flames that we're pretty sure humanity already had at this point, but we're not 100% sure. "Searing white" seems to match up with Aaravos' key, which could both relate to primal, dark, and deep magic all pretty easily.
And giving humans deep magic isn't necessarily all bad. Elarion is called "a beautiful white city" nestled in the mountains (Tales of Xadia). Leola's Last Wish star is a beautiful guiding light. This is probably the closest to a straightforward "this is when humans got primal magic or deep magic ('good' variant)" we can read into the poem, except...
It's immediately troubled by this implication and the following stanza (said connection between 2x06 and TOX found by @its-leethee).
The process marks its wielder, too: years of dark magic leave mages with pale complexions, bruise-like blemishes across the body, and blackened eyes. For better or for worse, dark magic became the key that unlocked a place of power in Xadia for all of humanity.
The closing stanza of the poem is why we all thought dark magic post-S2, for obvious reasons:
Elarion, black-eyed child,
her twisted roots spread deep and far,
The humans’ might
sparked by the light
of Aaravos, her midnight star.
Black eyes are found in dark magic use, twisted roots don't have a particularly good connotation, and we know thanks to S1 and S3 that many humans considered dark magic to make them powerful and level the playing field. Thus, the timeline would look something like this:
Elarion / humans eventually found primal magic (thanks to Leola + potentially others like Aaravos)
This drew the anger of the Stars/First elves and the dragons
Elarion asks the stars for help against the dragons, but they leave/reject it
Aaravos gives the humans deep magic (or something along those lines) through his cube ("searing white") which may or may not contain his chest piece / a quasar diamond
Through the cube, humans discovered/developed dark magic, thus "unlocking a place of great power"
#elarion#deep lore dive#tdp#the dragon prince#analysis series#analysis#predictions#yeah this is the Timeline to me#i didn't expect to land on the key in this manner per se but#it's the only thing that makes sense to me (at least for now)#the key of aaravos#it also makes sense bc the key opens up power in that case (dark magic) but also locks you in (to aaravos)#yeah. yeah yeah yeah
44 notes
·
View notes
Text
Wishing, Wanting, Yours For The Taking
Chapter One
Childhood sweethears, Rhett Abbott and Wayne Tillerson's daughter know they can't be together. After eight years of secretly making things work, Rhett knows he wanted to put a ring on her finger. But one night of drinking and Perry's temper has to ruin everything
3.2K
Warnings: canon typical violence
Patricia Tillerson must have known she was going to leave her family. Why else would driving onto the Abbott ranch, climbing out of her car and marching towards their house?
The families didn't exactly see eye to eye. They may have been neighbours, but they heavily disliked each other. Patricia had no reason to be knocking on their door, especially not at this time of night.
When Cecilia pulled open the door and saw Patricia Tillerson standing there, she knew exactly what it was about. Patricia wore her tight lipped smile as she looked at Cecilia. She pulled her expensive furs tighter to her body.
"Cecilia," she said. Normally she'd have one of the boys with her, Trevor or Luke. But not this time. Not when she knew she was leaving. "Is she here?"
Cecilia stepped to the side, allowing Patricia into her home. She knew exactly what Patricia was talking about. Cecilia stopped herself from looking towards the stairs, to where she knew Rhett was in his bedroom.
"Come and have a drink," Cecilia offered.
As she and Patricia talked, seventeen-year-old Rhett Abbott was in his room, laying on his bed, holding her against his chest. Rhett's voice was soft as he told her his dreams of bull riding. Her fingers were against his chest, dancing over the spot where he wanted to get his tattoo.
She could feel her eyes drooping as she listened to his steadily beating heart. "Rhett," she said quietly, interrupting him. But Rhett didn't mind. He looked down at her as she went to pull away. "I need to go home."
"Five more minutes," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
But she shook her head, pulled away from him, and grabbed her clothes from the floor. She pulled on her shirt and jeans and climbed back onto the bed to kiss his soft lips. "I'll see you tomorrow, cowboy," she whispered and walked over to his window.
Downstairs, Patricia looked at the drink Cecilia had poured for her. Not that she'd drink something so cheap. "I don't want my daughter around your son," she said, legs crossed at the knee, sitting straight.
Cecilia let out a huff. "They're kids, Patricia. You try and force them apart, they're just going to find their way back to each other." She picked up her whiskey and downed it in one go.
"I don't care," Patricia said, frankly. "If I catch him near her again, my boys will have something to say about it."
Rhett watched as she pulled open his window. As much as he hated it when she left, he loved watching her climb out of the window. But, this time, she paused.
"Shit!" She hissed, dropping to the floor. Rhett's face was set in something of a frown as he watched her. "My mothers car is out there."
She'd never been caught sneaking out to see Rhett Abbott before. But it was no surprise that it had finally happened. Rhett joined her at the window and looked out at Patricia's far too expensive car. "What the fuck is she doing here?" He asked, squinting into the darkness.
He shook his head, pushed her hair back and climbed back onto his bed. "Might as well join me up here until she leaves," he said and patted the small space beside him.
How could she say no to that? She climbed onto his bed and tucked herself into his side, his arm immediately wrapping around her. Her fingers moved over his chest and down his stomach, defined from years of helping his father.
"I can't believe I almost left without saying I love you," she mumbled and looked up at him.
Rhett squeezed her closer and kissed the top of her head. "So horrible to me," he mumbled and grabbed her chin, tilting her face towards his own.
She hadn't meant to climb on top of him for the second time that night. Her legs were on either side of his hips as she leaned down to kiss him. Her lips moved across his jaw and down to his neck.
But they didn't get much further than that.
The door flew open and the pair of them jumped away from each other. If it had just been Royal or Cecilia or even Perry, it wouldn't have been as much of a problem. But it wasn't any of the Abbott family.
Patricia Tillerson shouted her daughter's name as she jumped away from Rhett. "Mom!" She tried, straightening her shirt.
"You're not to see that boy anymore!" Patricia grabbed her daughter's shoulder and pulled her out of Rhett's bedroom. She kept a hold of her as she moved her through the house, marching her out of the Abbott's house and to her car.
Rhett grabbed his shirt from the floor and ran after them. But he didn't get very far before Patricia was pulling her into the car and speeding off, away from the Abbott ranch. "Mom," she tried, but Patricia wasn't hearing it.
She and Rhett thought they'd been doing a good job of hiding things. At seventeen they thought they knew better than everyone else. They wanted to be together, no matter what.
They got a lot more secretive. No more sneaking into each other's rooms late at night, no more flirting where the Tillerson property met the Abbott property. They had to pretend they didn't know each other.
When Rhett started riding bulls, she was there. The Abbott's would have welcomed her if she sat with them, but she kept herself hidden away, couldn't risk word reaching her brothers or her father.
Because her mother had left. She had gone, but she still had that hold over her daughter, the one that stopped her from being with the man she loved, was still there. She was still holding her captive.
When they were twenty four, Rhett decided he wanted to marry her. He wanted to buy her the best rock he could and put it on her finger. As much as Rhett wanted the permission of her father, it was something he knew he'd never get. Especially with how tensions were between their family.
That was how she found herself at the rodeo, hidden from view as she watched Rhett. It always made her nervous, watching the bull toss him around like he was a ragdoll. But it was Rhett's dream. After eight long and not easy years together, she'd support him no matter what.
She bit down on her knuckle as she waited. Her breath was baited, quickly glancing towards the Abbott family. They must have known she was there, must have known she was watching Rhett. How couldn't they, when he kept looking at her?
The Abbott's were sat near to her brothers. If she had known that Luke, Trevor and Billy were going to be there, she wouldn't have bothered to come to the stands. She would have waited by Rhett's truck to wrap him in a kiss the moment he came towards her. But now she was here, and now he had seen her, she wasn't going anywhere.
And then, it began. The gate opened and Twister, a psycho of a bull, came charging out of the gate with Rhett on his back. Her anxiety skyrocketed, watching as Twister tossed her boyfriend, the man she loved, about.
His hand was in the air, hat one within seconds. Scratch that, milliseconds. And, before she knew it, Rhett was tossed from the top of the bull. Fuck, was that enough to make it through?
She watched as Royal approached the fence separating him from his son. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't. Instead she backed away from the stands, away from where her brothers were sitting, and headed over to Rhett's truck.
From her view she could see as the rest of the Abbott's spoke him him. No matter the outcome of the ride, they were going to be proud of him.
Rhett's family dynamic was far from perfect, but it was still better than being a Tillerson. Wayne didn't want a daughter. She was the family burden in her fathers eyes. And to her mother, when she was around. To Luke and Trevor, she was Princess Tillerson, and they'd protect her with everything they had. It was patronising sometimes, the way they treated her like a child.
To Billy, she was just his little sister. That was why he was her favourite.
Stetson back on his head, Rhett walked over to her. He'd seen Maria Olivares watching him, had offered her a small wave. There was a time when he'd had a crush on her, but the woman he loved was waiting for him by his car.
He couldn't help but take a minute to admire her as she picked at her nails. She hadn't noticed him walking towards her yet, still expecting him to be in the ring. But then Rhett was in front of her, pulling her into his arms. "Rhett!" She cried, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him everywhere but his face. "You did so good out there."
He smiled a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes and pressed his lips to the top of her head. "It won't be enough to advance," he mumbled, and she tightened her hold on him.
"How's your shoulder?" She asked, tender fingers touching him there.
Rhett shrugged, but even that had him wincing. She kissed his neck, where she could reach, as he held her tight. "You'll be at my next round, right?"
"Of course, baby," she whispered.
Even in the busy parking lot, it was just them. Her and Rhett, nobody else, wrapped up in their own little worlds. It was easy to get like that when they held each other, appreciating the little bit of time they had to be alone.
Suddenly Rhett was looking past her. "Your brothers are coming," he mumbled.
"Kiss me then, cowboy."
Now, this might sound a little counter intuitive. They didn't want their families knowing, so why was she asking Rhett to kiss her right here, in the view of her approaching brothers? It was genius, actually. His hat would hide their faces; she'd look like nothing more than some buckle bunny to her brothers.
So, Rhett kissed her. He kissed her with that same ferocity he always did, the kind that took her breath away. He kept a hold of her, kept her on her own two feet as he stole the breath from her lungs. Kissing Rhett was like kissing nobody else.
"I love you," he whispered against her lips. They'd had eight years worth of 'I love you's', but it would still never be enough, not for the two of them.
She tugged at his longer locks and pushed them behind his ear. "I love you too," she whispered. "But I got to go."
Her brothers had driven to the rodeo with her, but they didn't know she was watching Rhett. They had simply assumed that she'd been talking with her friends instead of actually watching the rodeo.
Rhett kissed her once again, a kiss that made her knees weak and her head dizzying. He let her go after that, and she quickly straightened herself out before running after her brothers.
"Did you see Rhett Abbott?" They were laughing as she caught up with them.
Trevor laughed as he helped her into the truck. She didn't laugh, as her brothers climbed in around her. They kept her sandwiched between them as they drove away, drove back to their home.
The Tillerson Ranch, which felt cold and empty. It always had done, even before her mother left. Maybe it was the collection of stuffed animals that surrounded her place, maybe it was the fact that her father hated her.
Through the night she combatted the loneliness that came with being a Tillerson by texting Rhett. Rhett, who was in a bad mood after that day's ride, but wouldn't put that on her. Rhett, who slept in his truck because sometimes his own family issues got to be too much.
Rhett, who she only got five minutes with. Those five minutes, they weren't enough. They'd never be enough, and they both knew it.
So, when Billy patted the back of his ATV and the four of them set off for where their own land met the Abbott's. (Actually, they'd gone to the Abbott house first. How long had it been since she'd crept inside? Cecilia knew she was there every time; she and Rhett hadn't been very quiet when they were younger. But the Abbott boys weren't there, so they set off elsewhere).
The Abbott family knew about her and Rhett, or about their past, at least, but she was almost certain her brothers didn't know anything. That was the only reason she felt comfortable clinging to Billy as they drove.
When the Abbott men came into view, they stopped and jumped from their horses. Billy stopped his ATV long enough for her to jump off and Luke and Trevor climbed off of their own. In typical Billy fashion, he rode around singing while the others tried to conduct business.
Her hands were in her pockets as she tried to give Royal and Perry her politest smile. Rhett hadn't taken his eyes off of her since she arrived. "Boys," Royal called. He gave her a nod, which was indicator enough that he did know about her relationship with Rhett. But this wasn't the place for it. "How'd your dad's surgery go?"
"Fine, thanks," said Luke as he approached the fence keeping the two families separate. He stopped, sandwiching her between himself and Trevor. Okay, maybe they did know something. "Just wanted to come by and..."
"Came knocking on your door," Trevor interrupted. It was incredible how much he reminded her of her mother. "Cecilia said you lost a few?"
She couldn't help but stare at Rhett as he approached. The leather chaps, the too big belt buckle, the gloves. This was the side of Rhett she only got to see in pictures, in those rare moments he'd text her on his work day. It was a mouth watering sight, but she pulled herself together.
He wasn't looking at her, anyway. His glare was moving from Luke to Trevor. (Now that they were close, Rhett couldn't bring himself to look at her. For, if he did, it would have given everything away. He almost lost her once when they were seventeen, he wasn't prepared to do it again.)
"Yeah, we'll find them," said Royal. "Appreciate your concern." (Rhett couldn't stop his eyes from slipping. It was for a split second, but even a split second couldn't stop the anger from melting away from his face. It was quickly replaced). "What can we do for you?"
She didn't know what her brothers wanted with the Abbott's. She'd jumped on the back of that ATV at the mention of them. There was just that part of her that had been so desperate for more than five minutes with Rhett, even if it was staring at him from across the fence.
She didn't know about the piece of paper in Luke's pocket. She didn't know about the property line. She didn't know about the thirty days before the Tillerson's took the Abbott family to court.
Her reaction must have given her away, that much was clear by the way Royal chuckled. "All Right. What's this really about? Water rights? Drilling?"
Luke took his hat from his head as he shook it. "It's just business, that's all."
"What it is, is horseshit, and you know it," Rhett suddenly spat as he pulled the yellow glove from his hand. He hated the Tillerson family for a number of reasons. But seeing her stood there, hands shoved into her pockets while she listened to all of this? It was a reminder that she was one of them.
It was some modern day Romeo and Juliet bullshit.
"Look, I'll be honest, I don't get it either. But something set a fire in my dad, and here we are," Luke replied. The dynamic between the Tillerson siblings was so clear in that moment. Luke was the level headed one, the one who just did whatever his daddy asked of him. Billy was the airhead, Trevor was fuelled by anger and aggression and she was quiet, not even a part of the conversation. "You wanna talk to hi-"
"No, no," Trevor suddenly cut in. "There's nothing to negotiate here, Luke." He stood tall, puffed out his chest. He looked like a right prick. "That letter is straight from the country assessor himself. The fact of the matter is, y'all are gonna lose some land." He snatched the letter from Luke and passed it over the fence to Royal.
When Trevor left her side, she felt herself finally breathing. Still she stared at Rhett, begging that for him to see how little she had to do with this.
"That's all above board," said Luke as Royal read over the letter. "I'll talk to my dad, see what he says," he said over Trevor's shouting. "I know your whole family's been through a lot." He cast his gaze over to Perry. "Like I said, it's... just business."
Luke turned around, headed back to his ATV. "Princess!" Trevor shouted. "Get on here!"
"I'm gonna walk!" She called back, still looking at the Abbott's.
"C'mon, that's gonna take forever. Hop on," he said, driving his ATV in front of her. "Now."
Finally, she looked away from Rhett and the rest of the Abbott family, sending her brother a nasty glare. "Trevor! I'm going to walk!"
Her brothers seemed to get the idea. Finally, they drove away on their ATV's heading back to the Tillerson ranch.
She waited until they were out of view before she turned to the Abbott's. "I had no idea that was going to happen," she said, stepping up to the barbed wire fence. But, before she could touch it, Rhett gently pushed her back, keeping her away from the fencing.
"It's okay," he said gently. His finger brushed over her cheek and she leaned into him. "I know you didn't."
Rhett pressed his own body against the barbed wire fence. It cut into his shirt, no doubt, but he had to be close to her, and he wasn't going to let her touch her skin to the fence. "I can speak to my dad, but I don't think it'll do much to help."
The Abbott family must have known about them. Royal and Perry had no reaction when Rhett leaned over the fence and kissed her sweetly, tenderly. "I love you," he whispered, his lips still touching hers with every word.
"I love you, Rhett."
He looked past her, just like he had at the rodeo, and stepped back. "Your brothers are coming back," he said and she, too, stepped away from the fence. She shoved her hands into her pockets and set off, heading towards her brothers.
Rhett watched her go as he climbed into the saddle. The way his dad and his brother were looking at him, it was so clear this didn't come as a surprise. "I'm gonna put a ring on her finger," he said as he pulled his gloves back onto his hands.
Taglist: @nurse-sainz
#rhett abbott#rhett abbot imagine#rhett abbott x reader#rhett abbott fluff#rhett abbott smut#rhett abbot x you#rhett abbott x reader smut#rhett abbott fic#rhett abbott fanfiction#outer range#outer range imagine#outer range x reader#outer range fanfiction#outer range fic#lewis pullman#lewis pullman imagine#lewis pullman x reader
36 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fortified Wager ♤♤♤ 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 1
♦︎♦︎ Aventurine x Reader ♦︎♦︎ 𝕀𝕝𝕝𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕
🄱🄰🄲🄺 🅃🄾 【Ｐｒｏｌｏｇｕｅ】
╔══ ≪ ♤♤♤ ≫ ══╗
Yours was a meeting not meant to be.
“—Should we check out that famous nightclub, Primavera?”
It all began when your friends invited you for a night out.
“C’mon, we should let loose! Our finals just wrapped up today!”
Your friend smiled at you, pleading with her gaze.
Inside, your introverted self and your wallet were screaming, ‘nooo!’
“Sure.” You answered.
Truthfully, you only really tagged along after they promised to treat you. Who could say no to free food, especially from such an exclusive place?
Not you, definitely.
Besides, you’d never gone to a nightclub before.
The moment you set foot inside, you were overwhelmed by the dazzling neon lights and blaring loud music.
Your friends immediately stepped into the dance floor, having the time of their lives, and you followed suit. Only for a bit.
You decided you had enough of brushing and stumbling against total strangers, on top of performing a series of stiff movements that outclassed even a robot, and went to see what the bar had to offer.
...Or more like, what your part-timer, broke ass college student wallet allowed you to have.
Because it was a regular weekday, the bar wasn’t overly crowded, you sat on one of the bar stools. The nice bartender asked for your order. It wasn’t every day that you get to sit in such a fancy place, so you ordered something daring.
Before long, your colorful, alcoholic beverage made its way to you in a tall glass, with a cute tiny umbrella on the side.
As bold as you were, you were still sane, so instead of downing it in one go, you took a little sip through the straw.
It tasted sweet at first, yet left a bitter aftertaste—not that you minded.
You took more small sips, drowning out the booming music with your thoughts, which was becoming increasingly difficult with the next table hosting its own party.
Out of curiosity—and slight annoyance—you sneaked a glance, wanting to see what the fuss was about.
The next table was surrounded by a bunch of dapper men dressed in well-tailored suits. Since their attire all had something in common, you concluded that it was a uniform of some kind. They were probably employees from the same company.
Cards and chips were scattered on the table.
You could tell what they were doing at a glance.
Inwardly, you grimaced in disapproval.
Then again, you were in a nightclub. What did you expect? A group of men holding candles as they recited a prayer for a sacred mass?
Among them, two men were sitting across from each other. The moment you laid eyes on one of them—the blond guy on the right—you momentarily forgot how to breathe.
Locks of his tousled, blond hair, which flowed to his nape, shimmered under the flashing neon lights. Sometimes blue. Sometimes pink. Sometimes gold.
His purplish, cyan eyes were serene, devoid of any worries. A smile tugged at his supple lips as he casually glanced at his cards.
If not for those around him, you’d have believed that he had emerged the victor.
However, seeing how fervently those across him were booing him, and in turn, cheered for the other guy... Right, the other guy, that couldn’t be farther from the truth.
As for those on his side, at first, it may seem as if they were smiling, but it didn’t take long for you to realize that they were sneering.
It was as if they only stood there to laugh at the blond man’s cards and berate him for it.
How did you know that?
By that point, as the game between the two gentlemen grew more heated, more and more people started to gather around them, forming a crowd.
A sneak peek wouldn’t hurt.
As such, you, with your now neglected drink, scooted over to the table.
That was how some of their gleeful conversations reached your ears.
“...His luck has run out.”
“Seems like it.”
“He can only pray that Mr. Duane will show him some mercy, which I doubt will happen, since he’s been eyeing that position for a while.”
...Which wasn’t the kind of tea you’d expect from such a settlement, but okay.
‘Avgin’? Is that his name?
But why does it sound familiar...
You glanced at the other guy—the supposed ‘Mr. Duane’—right as he stood up with both hands on the table, leaning over the blond man as if looking down on him.
“—Good luck on not ending up in a ditch somewhere tomorrow! You should’ve agreed to let me take over when I was still being nice!”
His breath reeked of alcohol. Gross. Make senses, looking at all the champagne glasses strewn around his side of the table. As for his looks, it was ehh, compared to the guy who sat across from him, he was just—
“—What’s the hurry? The night has just begun.”
The instant that carefree yet melodious voice entered your ear, you forgot everything else as tension left your body. Only then did you realize that you were gripping your glass tightly.
A second later, it dawned on you how absurd it was.
What on earth were you doing?
These gentlemen were wearing custom-tailored uniforms studded with authentic jewels, sipping glass after glass of premium wine, so they probably had a high-profile job.
What they had squandered, they could easily recover tomorrow.
As for you, you only had the remaining hours of today before returning to the college grind tomorrow. It would be best for you to leave that silly little show behind.
“If you know what’s best for you, you’ll forfeit this game!”
In contrast to Mr. Duane, who was getting riled up for some reason, the blond stranger was relaxed.
“But why? Didn't you say you'd show me the ropes? Is this all you've got? Just when things were starting to get fun...”
See? Even the blond gentleman himself is unfazed. He acts like a child whose toy was taken away!
Therefore, this has to be a game.
A game with no real stake...
“—You damned Avgin! Let's see if you can still smile when I charge you with scamming the IPC and have you shot on the spot!”
You were about to turn on your heels when Mr. Duane spat out those words.
It was at that moment when you learned that 'Avgin' wasn’t just any name, but more of a derogatory slur, and that these people were chastising him for reasons beyond just being dealt a bad hand.
...Then again, rich people were just messed up like that.
It had nothing to do with you.
Those behind the blond man began to pile on him.
“Hey, if you beg, you might still be able to work for us...”
So what if losing would cost him more than just a few bucks?
“We all know it’s a harsh world for an Avgin out there. Don’t be so stubborn.”
So what if no one was really on his side?
“Your arrogance will be the end of you...”
So what if everyone was secretly hoping for his defeat all along?
Gambling’s stupid anyway!
You were getting worked up for no reason!
He was a grown man! He was perfectly capable of standing up for himself! Instead of shrugging those hurtful comments off with a smile... A smile so sad.
You tried to collect yourself. You didn’t understand where all of these emotions were coming from. Besides your own sense of self-righteousness and newfound attachment towards that dangerously handsome stranger, of course.
The situation was steadily worsening for the blond gambler, evident from the mounting pile of chips on the other guy’s side of the table.
Mr. Duane laughed out loud while his buddies snickered behind him. Those who stood behind the blond gambler were grinning. As for the blond man himself, he was staring listlessly at his cards for some reason, with an empty smile plastered across his face.
His wrist was hanging powerlessly, seemingly ready to drop what little was left of his cards and throw the game.
Did all of those offensive remarks finally get to him?
Seeing that, something inside you fell, and a bleak gasp escaped your lips.
...No way.
Only then did you realize it.
Deep down, were you hoping for him to win all along?
You clenched your fists.
As the sudden realization hit you, Mr. Duane and his cronies started pestering him again.
“There’s no harm in giving up, you know.”
“Sometimes you just have to accept defeat.”
At that moment, quietly, sincerely, you prayed in your heart—
“—SHOW THEM!! SHOW THEM WHAT YOU GOT!! DON’T LOSE!!”
Please win.
...Or at least, that was how it was supposed to be, until your mouth decided to outrun your heart.
Alcohol. It was the alcohol’s fault.
You were frozen in place, reeling from the embarrassment.
It went without saying that you successfully garnered the attention of those around you, and above all, of the pair of cyan layering on violet eyes.
They were widened in shock as the owner turned around in your direction.
It's unclear whether he caught sight of you, as by that point, you had already run away as fast as you could.
Not going back to that nightclub for a second time was pretty much a certainty by that point, and not because of financial constraints.
🂡 🂠 🂣 🂠
...Apparently, the blond gambler did win in the end.
Once again, how did you know this?
...It went without saying that you couldn’t just gallop out of a nightclub with their cocktail glass still in hand. The bartender wouldn’t let you.
Also, during your panic moment, you unlocked a certain skill and somehow managed not to spill the drink, so the glass was still half-full. You couldn’t just leave your drink unfinished. The fact that you spent a huge chunk of your salary as a part-timer to buy it wouldn’t let you.
However, just as you went right back inside, a familiar guy hurried past you.
It was none other than Mr. Duane. He was fuming as he made big strides towards the exit. Considering that he was alone, it seemed that his coworkers were left behind.
It wasn’t difficult for you to get the full story, because by the time you returned to the bar section, the blond gambler had become the talk of everyone there, if not the entire nightclub. Of course, the game was long over.
Nevertheless, the winner wasn’t quite what everyone expected.
Yes, it wasn’t Mr. Duane, but Aventurine.
Aventurine.
You let that name roll over your tongue a few times.
Still, that wasn’t the end of it.
There was a foul play.
Mr. Duane was cheating. and the game itself was rigged in his favor. The guy even paid the dealer. In short, everything was an elaborate setup to get this Aventurine guy to surrender his position.
The fact that he still loses, though...
Well, now that everything was settled, Mr. Duane did sound like the whole circus, but that wasn’t what everyone was focusing on.
Apparently, as difficult as it was to believe, the setup was just THAT elaborate and Aventurine really, really wasn’t supposed to win.
He only did because he beat the guy at his own game.
No matter how perfect the plan was, Mr. Duane himself wasn’t impervious to making mistakes.
As Mr. Duane got one step closer to victory, he became more and more cocky, which resulted in a blunder and ultimately, his downfall.
Thus, Aventurine made a name for himself.
Hearing that, the cocktail you were sipping suddenly became all the sweeter.
Best night ever.
...Although, if you had one complaint...
“Congratulations, Mr. Aventurine! We know you’d win!”
“We always believe in you, Mr. Aventurine!”
Standing just a few seats away from you was the champion himself, along with his ‘entourage.’
What a bunch of suck-ups.
Yes, said ‘entourage’ was none other than those guys who were wishing for his defeat earlier.
Now that Aventurine had secured his position, the same couldn’t be said about them. After all, they did diss him, hence the ass-kissing.
You unconsciously sipped your drink faster.
Shameless. Utterly shameless, a bunch of them.
In fact, some who were standing quite nearby were still badmouthing Aventurine, being self-conscious enough to lower their voices.
You didn’t miss them, though.
“...He’s so full of himself.” One of them said.
“Yeah, smug bastard. He makes me sick.” Another replied.
...Well, as they say, loser talk.
All’s well that ends well.
Those were your most recent recollections of that bittersweet night.
╚══════╝
🄾🄽🅆🄰🅁🄳 🅃🄾 【Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ ２】
𝕋𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕠𝕗 ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥
#aventurine fanart#honkai star rail#aventurine x reader#hsr aventurine#aventurine#aventurine x you#aventurine x y/n#aventurine honkai star rail#fanfic#fanart#hsr fanart#hsr x reader#star rail aventurine#aventurine hsr#fortifiedwagerfic
48 notes
·
View notes
Text
#117
tw: gun violence, murder
The hero gets out of bed, folds their sheets back the same as always, and starts their day.
They put the TV on for the background noise, but it’s far beyond that now. The hero can recite this news story word for word.
“—and what’s to say this fiend can be stopped? I’m joined here by villainy expert Joyce Peterson for a glimpse into what may be….”
The hero pulls a box out of the cupboard, throws some cereal into a bowl. The same flake as always bounces off the edge and escapes onto the floor. They eat in silence, the buzz of the TV enough to fill the space for dread in their mind, and think over their plan again.
It’s been like this for two weeks now. The same news story, the same breakfast, the same glum look on the superhero’s face when the hero walks into the agency. The same “[Hero], a word, please”, the same confession that their villain is going haywire.
The hero wants to say they’ve lost their mind. They’ve tried everything—don’t go to work, don’t talk to the superhero, don’t accept the mission they’ve been given every day for the past two weeks. Even the inconsequential stuff: don’t have breakfast, don’t turn on the TV, don’t go in through the front door. Every day has brought a new attempt to break themself out of this time loop, and so far every day has remained exactly the same.
They look up a little too early when the superhero approaches them at the door. “[Hero],” he says predictably, “a word, please.”
The same as always. The superhero ushers them into an interrogation room for lack of a better place to speak privately. They have the same conversation, the words practically rehearsed in the hero’s head like this is some fucked up theatre performance. Your villain is going off the rails, the hero thinks along with him. You need to bring this to an end before they destroy everything.
The same walk down the corridor, the same idle suit-up, the same wish of good luck from the superhero.
The hero turns to grab the same pair of cuffs before they falter, caught in instinct. They let their hand drift a little further to unlatch a handgun from the wall. Something new. Another attempt at freedom.
Not that it’ll work. It never does.
The hero goes out there to face the villain, as always. They laugh at the hero’s presence, throw themself into the same grand monologue. The hero points their gun at the villain and, without a thought in the world, pulls the trigger.
Killing people is a lot easier than trying to catch them. The hero’s never wanted to kill someone—god, they can’t imagine what it’d be like to want to kill—but it’s a curiosity sated. It feels bad. They hate it. The villain is dead, the gun is hot in their hand, and this will all reset tomorrow.
The hero returns to the agency with the news. The superhero doesn’t seem to know whether this is good or not. “It’s another evil off the streets,” he says, but his brow furrows as he says it.
The hero goes home that evening, their routine slightly altered with their new line of action. The water of the shower is cold, their dinner made when the streetlamps outside the window are already flickering on.
They tumble into bed without a care. What will they try tomorrow? Maybe they can try just incapacitating the villain this time. Shoot them in the leg or something. They go to sleep and dream of another day of the same.
Morning. The hero gets out of bed, folds their sheets back the same as always, and starts their day.
They put the TV on for the background noise, but it’s far beyond that now. The hero can recite this news—
Wait.
“—No one’s sure what happened. The public has gathered here to celebrate this victory, but not everyone is so pleased about this. I’m joined by a citizen, who wished not to be named, who was there at…”
The hero stumbles into the kitchen, wrenching their usual box from the cupboard. They pour it into a bowl, and all the flakes stay inside.
The drive to work is a blur. They stagger in through the doors and another hero bounds up to give them a pat on the back. “Someone needed to put the trigger on that one,” she says brightly. “They weren’t going down without it. Good job.”
Their routine is shattered; they cringe away from the other hero’s touch. This is wrong. They weren’t meant to get out. They were in a time loop. Where’s the superhero? Where’re his usual concerns about the villain’s destruction?
They know they’re meant to be glad. They broke out of the same loop they’ve been in for two weeks. The relief of a new string of events should be palpable. All the hero can seem to feel, though, is overhanging, gnawing dread.
They’re free. They’re a murderer.
#creative writing#writblr#writers on tumblr#writing#writing community#heroes and villains#hero x villain#time loop#tw gun violence#tw murder
36 notes
·
View notes
Text
・﹒・ from vault 32 [2]
Summary: You got approved for a marriage partner from Vault 31 after not finding a suitable boyfriend in your own. After meeting your future husband, and standing ready to saw your vows, you both agree to call it off. But they couldn't not have a wedding- so you chose his cousin.
Warnings: 18+, arranged marriage
Pairing: Norman MacLean x GN!reader
Parts: Part 1
"No" Everyone gasped as they heard you deny your marriage, however it was a pathetic denial. So you spoke again, properly speaking to everyone.
"No- this won't work out. He doesn't want to marry me, I don't want to marry him. I-I thought this was going to be the happiest day of my life but...it isn't exactly how I imagined it...ha" Everyone went into a frenzy, talking to each other on what to do since this never happened. Your heart was beating out of your chest as you looked back at Chet, he was sweating bullets from how nervous he was.
"Y-yeah. We should just call it off, ya know?" He smiled awkwardly as he turned to finally speak, but they still all spoke with each other. A minute passed before the overseer- Lucy and Norm's dad- told everyone to hush as he stood up.
"As this has not happened before, we had to discuss what to do. And we have come to a conclusion. We can call this off for you Chet, but for you ____, we can find a more suitable husband for you and reschedule" A few people sighed and groaned, claiming they didn't want to leave without going through a wedding today. Well- you would give them a wedding today. Looking at Norm, you knew this was going to work out.
"We don't have to reschedule- I'll just marry him" You nodded your chin forward to further clear up that you meant Norm. Everyone gasped again as they couldn't believe it was him, he also looked slightly alarmed as he pointed to himself to further confirm. But everyone started to push him up out of his chair and to the stage and didn't stop until he was in front of you, consequently pushing Chet off and onto the grass.
"If you don't want to do this, you don't have to, I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that" You cringed as you realized that you didn't give him much of a choice and laughed weakly.
"No, no, it's ok...I actually think you're really cute" God he was so adorable your heart was going to explode as pink dusted his cheeks.
"I think you're really cute too" Biting your lip, the officiate restated the vows. Your heart was beating fast again, but this time it was from excitement. Well- it was equal excitement and anxiousness.
"Norman MacLean, do you take ___ to be your lawfully wedded spouse?" Norm just looked at you for a few seconds before saying his final confirmation about this.
"I do" Why did that make your heart flutter so much? Sure- you had hoped your wedding day with your future husband would make you happy, but even if you didn't know him much yet, you chose him, and he chose you back.
"And do you, ___, take Norman MacLean to be your lawfully wedded husband?" This time, you didn't say no.
"I do"
"You may now kiss" You wasted no time pulling him in, kissing him passionately as he kissed back. He wasn't fully prepared for how aggressive you were, but his hands made their way to your waist as you heard everyone whop and cheer. After a bit, you pulled away panting but not all the way as you leaned up to his ear and made sure he heard something only you wanted him to hear.
"I can't wait to take every piece of clothing off you tonight" At that- his already red face grew redder as he stared at you with wide eyes. You saw his father throw his arm around his son who was still processing everything and what you told him as the man congratulated him and Chet thanked him for saving him from a marriage he didn't want. Your parents then came up and hugged you, mother crying and father failing not to cry. However, you couldn't stop staring at your now-husband. You then saw Lucy as she came up to you and she had on a soft smile.
"I know you'll take care of him, but if you hurt him-"
"I know, I know, I won't. Don't worry Lucy, I'll take really good care of him" You reassured her, finding her protectiveness so sweet, and looked at Norm as he looked back at you. Your new life had just started and it was with a man you had a feeling was the right choice.
41 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
lackingorganicorder
solarbeats
music blog
rhadiary
Necessitae
freerichdatingsite
Best Rich Men Dating Sites
lifesecretsofficials-blog
Untitled
