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ceilidho · 6 months

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prompt: it's been a month since you managed to run away from them. your luck had to run out eventually. tags: noncon, darkfic, ghoap x reader, previous kidnapping implied, stalking and hunting down reader. i am begging you to read the tags before reading this, thanks. 4.4k

You pay for the motel room in cash. Always cash. Never a paper trail if you can help it. Nothing that could ever tip anyone off if you didn’t want them to be tipped off.

You haven’t been on the run for long. Maybe a month, tops—but after the first week, the days and nights have begun to blend together like watercolours. You don’t do much during the day apart from sit in your room and wait for the night to come. Sometimes you venture out if you’re low on food or if the itch under your skin grows severe enough that you know you need to buy a fresh set of clothes and dump the ones you came into town with.

Freshly dyed and cut hair. Jackets two sizes too big to make you seem larger than you are from the back. You’ll never be able to change the face god gave you, but you make an effort to obscure it when you can—surgical masks on public transit, heavy sunglasses even indoors, a deep mauve lipstick (purchased, again, in cash at the local pharmacy) to make you seem, from a distance, like someone else. Anyone else.

Sometimes remembering that it’s been a whole month since you escaped, since you got out, leaves you winded. You have to hold onto the wall in your pay-by-the-night, ratty, hole-in-the-wall motel room to keep from toppling over. A month without spotting one of them in pursuit of you feels next to impossible. Almost impossible. You still don’t let yourself think that you’ve fully given them the slip, that you’ve gotten the better of them. There is no getting the better of them. There is no outmanoeuvring the two men that—you’ve learned through painful trial and error—do not let up when there is still the trace of a scent.

And everything leaves a scent. Even you.

You sleep in the bathtub instead of the bed for fear of bedlice; these days, your neck has an ever-present kink that needs to be worked out. It’s bound to get worse though. It’s not like you can stop in this town now and call it home, not when you can feel them hot on your heels.

You change in gas station bathrooms when you run. You’re learning a kind of awareness of cameras and eyes that you never would’ve developed before. You do not smile at cashiers. Your face becomes blank, unrecognisable. The goal is always that you fade into obscurity the second you step out of the shop, so that no one could ever identify you to the two terrifying men haunting your shadow. Even if they wanted to.

Paranoid isn’t the half of it. When you hear a car pull up outside your motel room door, your body drops a whole degree and sweats like a night terror has found you in the waking world. You only relax when you hear a door four rooms down slam shut. Then you shake so hard that you swear you can hear your bones rattle.

This isn’t a life. It’s life like the promise of a tomorrow is the only thing getting you through today.

You get on buses with no idea where you’ll be getting off. Pattern disrupter. In the months that you lived with them, you learned something. If your movements are scattered, they become unpredictable—harder to track down. You force them to stay behind while you skitter off, forcing them to review video footage, question people, even sift through garbage and recycling bins for any sign that you’d been there.

It doesn’t make you any less nervous. You know they’re like hunting dogs. You’d love to believe that you’ve tried their patience enough for them to abandon the chase, but thinking like that gets you caught. Complacency will get you caught faster than anything.

The money folded and sealed in an envelope in your bag is dwindling though. Even for as frugal as you’ve been, food costs money—clothes cost money. Boxes of hair dye and bus tickets cost money. And you can’t stay anywhere long enough to hold down a job to recuperate what you’ve lost.

It feels hopeless. You trudge back to your motel room after grabbing a bite to eat at the pub down the road and feel like maybe this is purgatory. Maybe you died a long time ago, long before you got away from them, and this long path you’ve been burning across the country is just the long descent into the underworld. You let out a sigh, squeezing your eyes shut for a second by the door before unlocking it to go inside for the night.

You trip over something. It catches you so off guard that you almost break your nose on the carpeted floor, arms almost not swinging out in time to catch you.

“Whoops. Sorry, kitty—took a lil’ tumble there, huh?” a familiar burr says from somewhere behind you by the door. “Gotta watch where you step.” He chuckles a bit under his breath, pulling back the leg he’d stuck out to trip you.

Your body goes ice cold on the floor. The door clicks shut behind you; the deadbolt sliding into place is deafening in the silence. The thick knot in your belly expands until you think you might throw up. The only nonsensical thing you can think is that you hope the motel manager won’t be upset that you’ve ruined the carpet.

You hear the muffled sound of knees hitting the floor and then a hand tangles in your hair, wrenching your head back. “Oh Jesus, look at the state of her, Lt.”

“Looks like she’s seen a ghost.”

The second voice is rough, like logs rolling over water, clattering into each other. It comes from the other end of the room, way into the darkness. They didn’t bother to turn the lights on, perhaps in an effort to make sure your guard was down. Fear grips the inside of your chest. Behind you, Johnny holds your head up high enough that you’re forced to stare at the patch of darkness from which Ghost materialises when he flicks on the bedside lamp.

On the surface, he sounds almost amused, but as long as it’s been, you’re still attuned to the undercurrent of anger in his voice. His patience has been tried over weeks of chasing after you. He almost looks like he’s put on mass since you last saw him over a month ago, but that could just be the perspective of looking up at him from the floor. His face is still covered in the same half skull mask as always, exposing the shaved blond hair on his head. His eyes are narrowed though, terrifyingly mad.

“Poor baby,” Johnny murmurs, nuzzling into the back of your head. He props himself over you, not leaning his whole weight down onto your prone body, but trying to get as close as possible to you while still forcing you to stare up at Ghost. “Did we give ye a wee fright? Is that why ye ran off? I missed ye so, so bad, baby.”

“She ran off because she’s been spoiled,” Ghost snaps. He sits on the edge of the bed and it creaks under his weight when he shifts a little closer to the edge, leaning closer to where you’re lying on the floor.

“I ken, I ken, Lt,” Johnny sighs, plastering sloppy, wet kisses into the side of your neck, fitting his mouth briefly into the crook of it, into the meat of your shoulder. “Cannae help myself, she’s just so—ah, kitty, am really sorry but you’ve really pissed Simon off.”

“No—no, please—” you gasp, breath splintered into short hitches. “H-how’d you—how’d you e-even find—”

Johnny shakes you by the hair, a bit rougher than usual. Anger finally leaking out like a drip from a loose spigot. You yip at the pain. “Of course we were gonna find you—Lt, ye hearing this? She thought she could outsmart us.”

“Pet’s don’t know any better,” Ghost says dismissively. It makes you feel queasy to hear him say that like you’re not even in the room. “Needs a lesson in not making us run halfway across the country after her. Get her on the bed, pup.”

“No, no, get OFF—” you try to yell, then gag when Johnny shoves two fingers into your mouth, pushing them almost to the back of your throat.

When the urge to choke abates, you close your teeth over his fingers, flirting with the idea of just biting all the way down and taking them off. Only the fact that you’ve never done something like that before keeps you from instinctually biting through. Johnny laughs breathlessly when he feels your teeth flirt over his fingers though.

“Bite down,” Johnny dares you, voice quivering with smugness and rage. “Bite down ‘n see what happens to ye. Have nae gotten my cock wet in a fuckin’ month because you’ve been gone and Simon—”

“Quit talking to the pet like she understands,” Ghost snaps, finally standing up, towering over the two of you. You can’t help staring at his mud covered boots still rooted in front of your face. “On the bed. Now.”

You howl when Johnny takes his fingers out of your mouth and wrenches you to your feet, struggling when he coos and frogmarches you to the bed. No matter how hard you struggle though, you can’t break the way he has your arms twisted behind your back. It’s a short walk too, only a few steps, and then Johnny shoves you roughly onto the bed, clambering over you again. His hand forces your face into the mattress, not paying any mind to the way you grunt because your nose bends uncomfortably against it.

“Always fuckin’ whining,” Johnny growls into your ear, fully pissed off now. His anger is electric, rippling down the length of you. “On and on and on—’n I’ve been so fuckin’ good to ye. Have nae even been a little mean. Being a fuckin’ brat to me and leavin’ me and makin’ us hunt ye down like dogs.”

You can hear that he’s working himself up to a fever pitch, growing angrier and angrier. It terrifies you to think that you’re trapped under him, nowhere to go. Somehow, it’s a mercy when the bed dips again under Ghost’s weight and he pulls Johnny back by the shoulder, giving his cheek a little tap when Johnny growls and tries to bend back down.

“You have all the time in the world with her, pup,” Ghost says, giving Johnny a rougher shove. “Get undressed. Can’t fuck her in your civvies.”

“Yeah…yeah, yer right,” Johnny mumbles to himself, getting off you.

Your head automatically twists over your shoulder, eyes following him. It’s easy to see in the spare seconds you get before you try to make a break for it again that he looks haggard, beard grown out a bit more than usual. Ghost usually makes him keep it short and tight, but apparently weeks on the road have tempered that military expectation a bit.

His eyes are wild, electric blue, hardly blinking for how hard he stares at you. You tell yourself that you haven’t, on some small level, missed his pretty face. His arms bulge around the tight shirt that he easily strips off, pulling it off one handed from the back of his neck.

You hear him kick off his boots somewhere in the distance, but when you try to scramble off the bed, Ghost tips you over onto your bed and presses you down with a firm hand on your shoulder. He’s a bit less dressed now—hoodie pulled off and boots and jeans piled on the floor somewhere. Mask off. Familiar scars cut across his face—old burn marks and white spidery lines of fresh skin. Rougher than Johnny, not a pretty man; maybe without the layers of scarring he’d be a proper masculine kind of handsome, but with them, he only seems dangerous. Someone to avoid.

He doesn’t say anything when he stares down at you. He says enough like that. He looks over his shoulder, away from you. “Johnny?”

“Lt?” Johnny’s at attention now, stripped naked and eager. When you glance down, his cock is already flushed and hard, excitement making him almost vibrate.

“Help me get her naked and then you’ll get her mouth, alright?”

You’re already struggling before the words come out of his mouth, frantically trying to push Ghost off you and opening your mouth to scream—the piercing shrill of it bleats out of you for half a second—before a big hand wraps around your neck and Ghost turns back to you. It shuts you up in a heartbeat. Not once in the months you were with them has Ghost looked half as terrifying; you’ve had a belt taken to your ass until the blood pooling under the skin almost burned, you’ve been manhandled and roughly positioned and been bent into shapes that your body could only just accommodate, but you’ve never, until now, actually worried for your safety somehow.

“You scream—” he starts, moving his hand up just a little to grab you by the jaw and twist your head to make you stare at the bedside table, where a glock lays flat under the glow of the lamp, “—and I shoot anyone that comes through that fuckin’ door. We clear?”

You nod once. Sweat pouring out of every other gland, but the saliva running dry in your mouth. You lick your lips and swallow, hummingbird heart going wild in your chest.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Johnny mumbles, coming up behind Ghost to wrap his arms around him as best he can, planting a row of kisses into his shaved head. “Missed it so bad, I need ta—need ta—”

“Her clothes, Johnny. Take ‘em off.”

You only put up a little fight when Ghost works on unzipping and pulling down your jeans. It feels hopeless to try. Johnny almost tears your shirt in two to get it off, only being a bit gentler when you yelp. He can’t help groping at your chest when the shirt is pulled off you and tossed somewhere else in the room, big hands fitting over your breasts and plucking your nipples, twisting them like you’re just a toy for Johnny to play with. He slithers down onto his belly for a second to pop a nipple into his mouth, switching between kissing and sucking at the beaded nub like he can’t tell what he missed more.

Your panties get ripped clean in two. The sob comes out of your chest unbidden, tears finally spilling out. Ghost’s patience seems finally at its end. His eyes are black even in the light, all pupil. Your legs try to close instinctively, but he slots himself between them so you can only clamp your legs around his waist, stuck staring at the way his hand reaches for his boxers only long enough to pull the elastic under his balls. His cock is so heavy with blood that it droops, the tip dewy.

Your nipples gleam with spit when Johnny finally takes his mouth off them, sitting back on his haunches and spreading his legs. It’s all happening so fast—there isn’t a right place to look. Either the monstrous cock between your legs that already has you feeling twangs of phantom pain knowing that Ghost isn’t going to even bother stretching you on his fingers before fucking you, or the pretty cock that Johnny is already rubbing against your lips, painting with his precome. You flinch when you feel Ghost spit on your sex; he doesn’t try to rub it in.

“Simon” he pants, fingers tangling in your hair again to keep your head still when you try to turn away. “Simon, please, can I—I need ta come so bad. Please, please.”

You almost say something and then Ghost pushes his cock in to the hilt in one brutal plunge. Your mouth opens on a ragged gasp and Johnny keens, fingers clenching so hard in your hair that he almost tears it out by the roots. The tip of his cock stays flush against your lips, even split open on your gasp.

“Please, sir, please,” he begs, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. Aching and desperate. Holding himself back only because he needs permission to put his cock anywhere in you, just like he did all those weeks ago back in their house out in the countryside. The one you thought you thought you’d escaped.

Ghost chuckles, groaning at the feel of your tight cunt squeezing his cock. “Go ahead, boy. Give your cock a squeeze.”

That’s all it takes. Johnny pushes past your lips roughly, no finesse or gentleness at all. Maybe the capacity for it is gone after going without you for so long. You choke when the head of his cock hits the back of your throat, tears making your vision blur. Johnny preens and gushes over you, unable to stop babbling about how hot and tight your throat is, how much he missed it.

“Oh shit, sir, she’s—” Johnny gasps, sinking into your mouth again and again, sweaty hand still clutching your hair. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.”

You feel close to the point of breaking, tight after a month on the lam, too tight for someone Ghost’s size to shove their cock into you without prep. You tell yourself that at least he bothered to spit on you, but lube would help a lot more. Too bad for you. His hands fit over your waist and hold tight, making sure you know that there’s nowhere for you to go. The first few thrusts are rough but slow enough to keep you from tearing—a small mercy, but probably not for your sake.

“I get—I get her pussy after, right, sir?” Johnny asks desperately.

“Dunno, Johnny,” Ghost muses, licking his lip. His thrusts get more brutish, faster; your teeth would be clacking together if Johnny’s cock wasn’t stuck halfway down your throat. “Gonna be a bit sloppy. Might not be tight enough for you after this.”

“S’okay, sir,” he whines, glancing back down at you. Fingers petting your cheek and tracing over your throat, trying to feel himself from the outside. “Jus’ need…oh fuck, please, it’s so good—oh Christ, missed it. I’ll take anythin’, sir, please.”

“Christ, alright, puppy. You can have a turn after. Been a good boy, huh?”

You can only stare when Ghost lifts a hand from your waist to reel Johnny in by his mohawk, tugging him in for a wet kiss, still thrusting into your pussy all the while. Just a toy between them for their cocks while Ghost licks into Johnny’s mouth and mutters sweet nothings to him. Johnny moans into the kiss, sucking Ghost’s tongue when it’s offered to him and looking dazed, come-drunk. All fucked out and flushed, hips unconsciously pumping forward, just absently rutting.

“Got our girl back, right?” Ghost murmurs, letting go of Johnny’s hair to smooth down his head and neck, making him preen. “Such a smart puppy.”

“Yeah, I’m good, sir.” He sounds out of his mind, slurring his words. Praise gets him like nothing else; it’s not easily given by Ghost, not handed out for nothing. “Did good…’m a good boy…”

The corners of your lips feel like they might crack. It’s hard to be careful with your teeth when you’re so overwhelmed, but luckily Johnny doesn’t mind it a bit rough. He hiccups when your teeth scrape over his cock a bit. He lips at Ghost’s mouth, dragging his tongue over the scar that bisects the corner of Ghost’s lips. When Ghost finally pulls away from Johnny’s mouth, a thin string of saliva pulls and then bends with the distance, finally snapping off and leaking onto your chest.

Your flinch and squeak draws Ghost’s attention back down to you.

You try to think of yourself looking down on the three of you instead of in it, but it’s hard. For as much as it seems like you’re just a toy between them, Ghost makes an effort to get you off, slipping a hand down to jiggle his thumb over your clit, rubbing it just the way you like. It’s sick how well he knows your body by now, how it takes almost nothing to push you to the edge of coming, core tight with the heat of it.

“Gonna come?” Ghost taunts, scooping a hand under your ass to tilt your hips up, hitting a spot inside you that has you seeing stars, cunt flexing over his cock. You garble around Johnny’s cock as if to say something, but all it does is make Johnny groan and slump over you, holding himself upright with a hand on the mattress. His abs flex every time he fucks into your mouth. “Pussy this close to coming—you must’ve starved it. Good thing you didn’t let someone fuck you while we were looking. Woulda torn them apart.”

You can see the real threat in his eyes at that. There’s no way you would’ve, but the real danger of it crackles in the room. You feel like you’ll slip and touch the third rail if you so much as twitch under his glare. His jealousy at the thought makes him look like an angry god, chest heaving with every breath as he fucks you.

“My baby wouldnae—” Johnny gasps, sinking his cock all the way into your throat and groaning at the squeeze, “—no, Si, she’s—ah, fuck me, ‘m gonna—fuck, fuck—Si, she wouldnae do that to us. No fuckin’ way.”

“She’d have a lot of making up to do then, huh?”

“She’s a good girl, sir, ‘promise. Oh, jus’ look at her,” Johnny gushes, sweat dripping down onto your face from how he’s curled over you. “So, so pretty. Maybe I dinnae take her…take her on enough walks.”

“Yeah…” You feel your skin crawl when Ghost stares down at you, not convinced. “Of course, pup.”

You know there’s no way he believes that. When they drag you home, you don’t think you’ll see the sunlight for weeks, never mind have Johnny take you on ‘walks’. Ghost’s smothering presence will take on a whole new meaning; he’ll snuff out the sun before he lets you walk in it alone ever again.

Someone in the room adjacent to yours slams their fist into the wall a couple of times, jolting you out of your thoughts. The headboard must really be knocking against the wall. Ghost and Johnny ignore it though, Johnny so close to coming that he can hardly even form a sentence, solely focused on spearing between your lips. You can feel Ghost reaching his end too, fucking you with a single-minded intensity. Breath snorting out of his nose like a bull. The hair on his chest is matted with sweat, curls whorling around his nipples.

You almost choke when Johnny comes down your throat without warning, hilting his cock until his balls brush your chin and his hand in your hair tightens painfully. He groans, drawn out and long, pained. It splashes against the back of your throat, almost familiar. You’ve done this before. You can do this without falling down a cliff and never climbing back up.

He pulls his cock out before he’s finished, striping your face with come, twitching when he has to hold his cock from how sensitive it is. You instinctively close your eyes, grateful when you feel his come tag your eyelid.

You hope it’s almost over, but Ghost hasn’t come yet and you know it’s going to get worse before it gets better. When Johnny pulls away to collapse onto his back on the bed, trying to catch his breath and dragging his hand over his stomach, Ghost hunches over you. He drags his tongue over your cheek, wet and nasty, and your brain almost switches off when you realise that he’s licking Johnny’s come off your cheek.

“There we go,” he snarls, feeling you flex around him, the little tell-tale spasm of your approaching orgasm. “Atta girl—gonna come on my cock? A little wet sorry for running away?”

You try to say something, but your throat is raw, voice too hoarse for words. Even your lips feel puffy, swollen. Talking hurts. It doesn’t matter though, Ghost doesn’t wait for your response. He pumps into you like a machine, pulling his cock all the way out before pushing back in again. Your stomach cramps with the worry that he might miss and try pushing into the other hole.

You wish there was a way around it, but you can’t avoid it slamming into you, a white hot wave cresting over you. You come so hard it hurts, milking Ghost’s cock and pushing him over the edge too; he pants harsh, animalistic sounds into your throat, cutting himself off by sinking his teeth into the meat of your shoulder instead, making you howl. There’s no condom to keep his come from pumping into you; just a big, heavy man smelling of gunpowder and salt hovering over you, elbow propped on the mattress beside your head and making you go a bit crazy at the scent of him everywhere around you.

He peels himself off of you after what feels like an hour, soft cock pulling out of you and making you clench down on nothing. You didn’t remember how much being empty can hurt. You try to roll away from him and onto your side, maybe squeeze yourself into a fetal position, but Ghost collapses down beside you and plants a hand on the centre of your chest, holding you in place. Never any respite.

You croak a tired little, “Ow.” All it does is make Ghost snort softly.

Your body feels like one livid bruise in the aftermath, limbs loose at your sides. You couldn’t move even if you tried, even if you thought you could make a break for it. It would hardly be worth it. You let your eyes slide shut when Ghost runs a hand up and down your chest, a little comforting gesture.

“Simon,” Johnny whines from beside you. Your brows scrunch, annoyed at his voice breaking the silence. “Please.”

You hear Ghost sigh. “Now?”

“Cannae wait—please.”

You wait to hear Johnny and Ghost get up. Maybe there’s something they have to do—maybe they drove to the motel and there’s still something in the car.

A hand grabs you by the hip.

“Turn over, pet,” Ghost instructs, flipping you onto your stomach without waiting for you to acquiesce. “Promised Johnny a turn with your pussy before we leave.”

Your eyes go wide.

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vampiretendencies · 1 year

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request; omg can we get one where it’s like that one trend on tiktok where the girls wearing lipstick n it goes to her bf w kisses on his face😭😭😭 PLEASE I KEEP SEEING IT EVERYWHERE

warnings; fluff, maybe suggestive

pairing; jj x fem!reader

authors note; i’ve seen the tiktoks too my fyp is obx and couples rn :,) love this, thank u for sending this in. after the day i’ve had i enjoyed writing something small and pure. and i accidentally posted your ask when trying to save to drafts i ended up posting it so i hope u still see this <3

lipstick tiktok (example)

“The red lipstick is new, baby.”

JJ’s voice was raspy, having sat in that same criss crossed position for around an hour, on the carpeted floor beside you, whilst you brushed makeup products gently to your skin. Detailed review of the products you typically use, and that deep rouge lipstick was not one of them.

You were sat at your vanity, preparing for a party at the boneyard. It was the last get together for the summer, so you were tedious in being sure that this makeup look was one to remember.

He resembled that of a small child, the way he’s been beaming up in astonishment. Admiring every move you make to enhance the impeccable beauty you already had to start with. And reminiscing at the fact that you were his, truthfully his in every way.

“Mhm,” you breathe, deciphering wether or not you should take the risk of wearing the color or not. Typically sticking to nudes and neutrals, this was something out of your comfort zone.

“You gonna’ wear it?”

“Should I?”

He gives you a ‘you would look perfect wearing a fucking trash bag, did you really just ask me that’ look. His hand grasps your thigh, thumb reassuring you against your flesh, with small circular motions. Replacing his thumb with his chin, you feel the bone dig into the thick skin— this required a better view than the one he had.

“Course’ pretty girl,” he batted his eyelashes with promise. “Now put that shit on, m’waiting.”

At that, you hesitantly take the top off of the black capsule. Twisting it up for more of the substance, revealing an untouched dark bloody shade of deep red— the most powerful shade. Divine femme fatale, if you will.

JJ could’ve sworn he shattered into a thousand bits, bursting at the seams. The way your mouth parted open delicately to apply it, so intimate and sensual.

Being that it was pigmented you merely needed a few strokes. To JJ’s dismay though, he wanted to rewind that moment, bringing it in closely to store in his brain for the long run.

Open at an angle so sacred he could sob from the sheer euphoric look.

“So fuckin’ sexy,” he can’t help the words that spill past his lips. Nearly in a trace, and he swore he felt drool leave his mouth.

“Yeah?”

You snap the cap back on, standing from the stool, sliding it inward, and JJ follows suit. Someone that was melting moments ago is now towering over you.

“Definitely baby.”

Sort of repaying him in a way, you flash a toothy grin at him, lipstick effortlessly lining your plump lips— you lean forward cupping his jaw with your palms. JJ happily obliged, not caring about the stains the redness would leave on his features. He couldn’t have asked for anything more, actually.

Your lips pucker softly, pressing kisses to every inch of skin you could reach on his face. From the small freckles that littered his jawline to the top of his forehead that was fanned by the tufts of his blonde tresses. Everywhere.

His heated cheeks. Kiss.

The button-like tip of his nose. Kiss.

His chin. Kiss.

His longing lips. Kiss.

Your mouth shape reflected on his tanned face, intricate lining of your lips, every crevice. Fragile and slow with each and every kiss.

Catching your breath, both you and JJ peer into the vanity mirror. He pulls you into his side chuckling at the reflection. His pretty face, painted in the marks of your lips. Yours, lipstick smeared with swollen lips.

This was when JJ strongly believed in the saying of ‘ruin her lipstick, not her mascara.’

“Gotta wipe it off now, J.”

You reach for a makeup wipe, not wanting your boyfriend to embarrass himself at the event to come. But he forces you into his chest to peer up at him, causing your eyebrows to knit together.

“Leave it.”

He adored the lingering sensation of your lips to the subtle skin. Wanting every part of him to be a reminder of you.

So that anyone that walks pass him could clear as day see, he desperately belonged to his lover.

“Really J, let me wipe-“

“I said leave it, baby.”

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rqnvindr · 8 months

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fountain of tears

pairing: neuvilette x fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff/comfort

word count: 1.8k

synopsis: neuvilette finds you standing by the fountain, alone the rain after an argument. his hidden turmoil can only be solved by hearing your voice again, tender, and unfiltered.

warnings: archon quest spoilers, arguments

a/n: I HAVEN'T POSTED ANY WRITING IN AGES BUT I HAD TO WRITE SOMETHING FOR MY OTTER HUBBY! enjoy!!

"this is pointless. i'm out."

your words wound neuvilette, the pain shooting deep into his bones. they ring over and over again in his conscious, louder than any vibration that had ever emanated from his cane to resume order during a trial. he sits in his office trying to work, but his thoughts don't subside, not one bit.

he ponders, staring at the stacks of papers in front of him, documents regarding cases that needed to be reviewed in due time. but not today. the amount of time he had in between today's working hours and the next trial reassured him that he could hyper-fixate on the last thing you said to him before storming out the door.

it's strange that he isn't worried for your safety as much as he is over the feelings rooted in your actions. the chief justice knows that humans are more fragile than those who have lived for eons. those who have experienced centuries of change were capable of adapting to different and unexpected circumstances through changing forms, and bestowing ancient powers of the past that contained the wisdoms and strength needed to guide them. he should be more concerned for where you could've possibly have gone within the last day. but he knows that you are also acquainted with a certain traveler that had recently arrived in fontaine and caused an uproar with the hydro archon in court already, everyone was. there's no way they could've left now, taking you with them on their travels. they still had unanswered questions left for lady furina. it is still a possibility though that you're at least staying with them, since you two were in good graces.

you weren't from fontaine though, and the image of you packing your bags and going home by yourself made him shiver. you did say you were heading "out" after all. he had to consider all of the possibilities.

neuvilette was new to human relationships. how long did it take for humans to draw the line? it varies for everyone, since they are given the freedom to dictate their personal connections to others to a certain degree. but how much was too much for you? when it came to you, he not only wanted to understand humans more, but also just you. he wanted to delve into all of your laughter, all of your worries, all of the sighs that escaped your pretty lips. to grasp it and memorize it all, was his greatest desire.

without you, he would basically lose his purpose for inserting himself into the realm of mortality. you already got him this far, and on top of that, he concluded that you were causing him to feel foreign emotions from removing yourself from his sight. even if it hurt, this was a test included in his journey that he had to endure.

but neuvilette does not want to face the predicament without a resolution. instead of wallowing, he decides to leave his office. he was already working overtime anyway, hoping to just drown in reading the same pages over and over again to keep himself grounded. was he always this sensitive? in his mind, he imagined the beings of the past looking down on him.

it's pouring rain when neuvilette steps outside. ah right. he doesn't need another reminder that his sorrows inconvenience the ordinary citizens of fontaine, who are just trying to make it to work on time, rush their loved ones to the doctor, and just go about their lives without the weather impeding on them. people barely carry umbrellas though, they're all accustomed to this and it's too unpredictable (at least for them it is).

he decides to start backwards, far away from the court of fontaine. he heads to the opera house first, and he finds you on the first try. how could he ever mistake you for someone else? you're the only person he has eyes for. especially when you're standing by the fountain of lucine, and carrying a distinct umbrella in a small crowd of people, most of whom appear to be flocked around the opera house's entrance, probably catching magic shows and other performances.

neuvilette is uneasy when he notices how close you're standing to the fountain. you're inevitably drawn to the grand structure that welcomes audiences from within the borders of the land and beyond to the renowned location. the spectacle that delivers the arts and the law all the same. but beneath its beauty lies danger that erases those who get too close. many fontainians had lost their lives from seeking the wonders of what lay beneath the waters that decorate and surround the hydro region itself. by wanting to delve deeper into it, they subsequently drowned, their lifeforce dissipating into the shackles of the streams. both the knowns and the unknowns of the primordial sea were sufficient reasons to express caution towards the lands waters, even if one was not a native who was subject to becoming one with their origins.

if you were to become the next victim, the rain would proceed to crash down and become one with the fountain in a continuous flow of precipitation. and then fontaine would be known as "the land of storms" rather than "the land of justice".

as he approaches the fountain, neuvilette's desire to pull you away and drag you back to him with no hesitation stirs. yet, it immediately dissipates when you turn your head, and give him what he guesses is a contemplative look. the white-haired man chooses his words carefully. giving you a lecture about the rumored dangers of the fountain's ability to dissolve human beings would only alarm you. he should use the rain as an excuse to find somewhere safer, if you still weren't ready to return to your shared residence.

"it-"

"i know. you're going to ask why i'm standing out here as if it isn't pouring rain." neuvilette barely gets a syllable out before you take the words right out of his mouth. you guys always had a habit of finishing each other's sentences, and even in a moment as anxiety-inducing as trying to make amends when you were mad at him, his heart melts. goodness, why did you have to be so lovely?

"if i were to let the rain impede everything, i guess i'd be a shut-in." you shrug. "it's been raining non-stop for the past couple of days. and no one seems to question it, so i just go along with it as if it's completely normal for it to be bright and sunny one day, and then cloudy and rainy the next day."

when you finish your thoughts, neuvilette still waits for you to continue. he was somewhat relieved that you were able to talk to him normally, but knew that there had to be more you had to say. were you going to officially end things between you two? say that you needed more time to think about the state of your relationship? he wasn't going to talk you out of anything, or start a debate. he respected your decision no matter what, even if it were to sting, he had to hear it. and the conversation had to go somewhere if he also wanted to deliver his side as well.

"i have heard some of the locals say though, that whenever it rains in fontaine, it is because the hydro dragon is crying." you say, as you gaze up at the sky. "i don't know if you have ever heard of it, but if such a tale were to be true, then i wonder what he could be going through for it to be pouring rain every other day."

neuvilette hopes he hid how quickly he blinked. normally he was good at hiding his reactions to hearing this "legend". although he never wanted to hide anything from you, the truth behind the mysterious precipitation was something he hadn't had the best opportunity to tell you about.

"yes, this is an old legend indeed. i often hear parents and caretakers telling this to children, whenever it's too wet to play outside." this was as much as the chief justice could water it down. he really did not want to lie before approaching a sensitive topic.

"as much as i would love to continue hearing the knowledge you have extracted from your time here, i have come here with another objective." neuvilette says. "i wanted to apologize for upsetting you. i have also been worried about you for the past few days. you do not have to disclose your whereabouts from the period in which we were apart, but i am happy that you're safe."

"it's alright, really." you reply calmly. "i was also in the wrong for storming out like that and not communicating with you. i was pretty upset, yeah, but i should've just told you that. i'm sorry for being immature and leaving you in the dark."

neuvilette notices tears streaming down your eyes. as your head tilts downward, they drop to the ground and blend in with the rain droplets. instead of offering you his handkerchief, he gently caresses both sides of your face with his gloved hands. you lean into his touch more, until you're wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace, letting your umbrella drop to the ground. he reciprocates, stiffly at first, but then holds you with no intentions of letting you go.

you're no longer choking back sobs, and then the sky clears up as the rain comes to a stop. you pull away from the hug to observe the sky, staying connected with your hands intertwined this time.

"wow...the hydro dragon must have been distraught watching us as if we were his new favorite play or something." you laugh.

neuvilette chuckles, knowing that you would of course find the occurrence to be a mere coincidence. "it seems that he must be quite fond of you, my dear."

"well, i'm already taken so i guess he will have to stick to me being his favorite character." you shrug obliviously with a smile.

as your lover, neuvilette has adjusted to being more vulnerable with you. you had seen the good and the bad sides of him, the latter especially during the latest argument that the two of you had now cleared up. and even then, you still let him back in. he doesn't have to worry about baring his entire soul to you now, and will slowly navigate you through his past and identity as the hydro dragon, who entered human society as the iudex. the vulnerable figure whose emotions affect the weather, and struggles to connect with others. you're the one worthy of knowing the truth though, and he makes a promise to himself to never hide anything from you from here on out.

#genshin impact #genshin spoilers #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact angst #genshin impact fluff #neuvilette #neuvilette x reader #neuvilette fluff #neuvilette imagines #neuvilette genshin #neuvilette fics #neuvilette angst

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 10 months

Text

Soundly (Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader)

Summary: You’ve injured your arm, leaving you frustratingly helpless to complete everyday tasks, like cleaning yourself. Your boyfriend and colleague Simon understands your apprehension towards accepting help for such a task and tells you how he does.

AN: Working title was “Sprain” for those of you who voted in the poll. I’ll be posting the Soap fics shortly and posting another poll for my other upcoming fics afterwards! Meanwhile, let me know what you think in replies or inbox me, tell me your thoughts on fics - present or future.

I just want Ghost to feel loved and to recover from all the shit he went through. I did a fic for that and sharing a bed, so I’m doing this one for the reader a.k.a. me. Plus I like the head canon that Ghost is actually kinda talkative, like in the Alone mission. I know he’s probably partly chatting to Johnny to because he’s trying to keep him focused, guiding him to regroup and survive. But he’s telling dumb jokes and joking about watching his torture video. He’s got banter and trauma!

Content warnings: Allusions to Ghost’s time being tortured by Roba and the Mexican Cartel - specifically his SA as well as the reader’s. Reader is GN, no use of Y/N

Masterlist // AO3

For “just a sprain”, your elbow hurt like a bastard. It was resting in the hammock of the sling your doctor ordered you to keep on. Almost smugly, it sent a few stings across the bone when you were also instructed to restrict your movements and get support to complete day-to-day tasks before you were signed off on a month’s medical leave – pending review at the end of it for being brought back to work.

It was half your fault. The sprain in the first place was caused by some asshole who would not go down quietly and attempted to dislocate your limb. Thankfully, your training automatically twisted you into a position preventing that but then you had to shoot that asshole and your gun was in the arm he’d injured. The bullet that you fired solidified the damage and you were forced to focus hard on aiming with your non-dominant hand whilst slugging it over to the Heli half a klick to the west for recon. You didn’t have to shoot the guy straight away. You’d kicked him down and he was too far from his own weapon to have made it before you could have swapped your gun to your other hand and ended his life the same miserable way. But nah, in the heat of gunfire, you’d decided to end the fight as quick as possible then ran like a bat out of hell back to safety where the rest of your crew was headed.

Simon had known you long enough – and dated you long enough – to not treat you like glass. He wouldn’t insult you like that. Therefore you were very grateful that he was the one to take you home, and that his driving was a lot steadier and smooth on the motorway.

Letting you open the front door, he carried both his and your bags inside, ready to start your medical leave this instant. He was heading out of the hall with his shoes dropped loudly onto the rack when he asked:

“You want anything specific for tea?”

“Nah, I’m good with whatever.”

Despite years of therapy, this injury had dealt a hefty blow to your pride; you didn’t want to be any more of a burden than you were going to be over the next few weeks. Thank God you’d been to his place enough times for it to be considered familiar.

From the airing cupboard, you collected the towel that Simon had bought you after your fifth stay here and smiled at the memory of shopping for it together. He’d asked for what colour you preferred then gathering other items into the trolley that were the same shade: toothbrush, wash cloth, cup to sit by the bathroom sink. He was nice like that.

The bathroom door locked behind you, the final ebbs of afternoon reaching in through frosted glass. You thanked the sun for enabling you to keep the lights off; the buzz that accompanied their stark spark on the silky tiles was always too much for you. However as warm as the daylight was, it failed to soothe your state. When you tried to retrieve the memory of how you’d gotten this t-shirt on in the first place, your mind offered you a blank slate and tears of frustration bubbling over, stinging worse than the injury as you tried to warp it against its will. But to no avail. Your bitten tongue surrendered so that the crying could commence with your t-shirt still stuck on your body.

Gentle rapping at the door didn’t halt anything. Surrendering felt like an admission of weakness, failure, and it poisoned you against yourself as you twisted the lock in the handle and slumped on the rim of the bath.

A pair of plain-socked feet appeared at the top of your line of sight, lingering on the cobalt carpet side of the door frame.

“Can I borrow your scissors please?” You asked, toying with a stray string dangling from the hem.

“You gonna stab me?” Simon inquired semi-sarcastically.

“Yes.” It was a pathetic little reply. But Simon pushed off the bath, belongings tinkling against one another as he rooted around then retrieved a small pair of scissors from the top shelf.

He sat down beside you on the rim, holding out the scissors by the blade, “It’s a nice shirt.”

You wiped your nose on the hem before taking the scissors, “It’s just Primark.”

“I can help you out of it, if it is Primark’s finest.”

“Was just cut it off.”

But of course your dominant hand was tied up in the sling, and you only just realised now.

“I could help you take it off.”

You’d never been undressed around Simon. The closest you’d gotten were jogging bottoms you’d cut into knee-length shorts and the sleeves of your t-shirt pushed onto your shoulders whilst you both worked out at opposite ends of the gym. Towards the end of your set, you mopped at your brow with the hem of your shirt once and the sliver of skin nearly sent Simon into anaphylactic shock.

He knew why you grappled with the notion of undressing. But he didn’t ever linger on you going elsewhere to change. Across your relationship, and even before it started, he’d shown you love in so many other ways that you would forget about what had happened to you.

Today was the first time he addressed it: “I understand why you wouldn’t want me to help.”

Without moving your head, your watchful stare latched onto his adjusting to the nuisance of sitting on a thin perch of porcelain. He withdrew his skull balaclava from its suffocating in his pocket and began kneading at it until the eyehole faced the ceiling you’d stared at many times, wishing you could be more intimate with the man you loved more than life.

“Your reasons aren’t so different from mine.” And he held out the mask to you.

The olive branch was accepted and you thumbed over the skull plate as best you could with the scissors still in your grip. Only when your thumbnail caught against the paint depicting a cheekbone did it dawn on you what your boyfriend was referring to.

“Simon-”

“None of that,” He interrupted you, gently, firmly, “I get it. I don’t wanna bother you if you don’t want me here.”

He rubbed along your shoulder as you matched your deep breaths to his, resting your eyes to bask in his comfort and crushing the mask in your loose fist. You’d always equated it to anonymity. Never had you thought of linking it to another form of comfort.

“You can bathe with your clothes on,” Simon suggested after a minute’s silence.

“Do you know how hard it is to remove wet denim?” You muttered with a crooked smile.

“I do,” and he pressed a kiss to your forehead – his preferred place to do so. “Let’s give this a go.”

You handed back his balaclava and took in his bare face, the medical mask – the one he’d been wearing whilst you were in the hospital and all the way home - gone, his expression carefully crafted to be neutral so that you didn’t have to be.

He eased your sling off you after the taps were thundering steaming water into the tub. Then he vanished to his room, returning with a pair of baggy sports shorts. Cradling them like a baby, your nose welcomed their softness and the steam whilst Simon knelt onto the fluffy bathmat, nodding after splashing the bathwater and twisting the taps into silence.

“I’m gonna stink if I don’t wash properly,” You whispered.

After opening his palms to you, Simon took your shorts and arranged them on the floor, “I’ll get you some wet wipes to use while we wait for your arm to heal up.”

You held onto his shoulders whilst he undid your jeans and eased them down your legs, his hands careful to stay hidden in the fabric whilst you stepped out of them and into the shorts. Simon to pulled them up to your hips.

“Why did the magician take a bath?” He asked you as you lowered yourself into the water.

“I dunno, why?”

“To clean up his act.”

Your chest quivered, struggling to hold in your groans and giggles whilst Simon pumped some blueberry body wash into his palm, “That’s good.”

Tenderly he circled the soap across your forearm, “Fancy another?”

“Go on.” You were nothing if not his little enabler, indulging in his humour even after the rest of 141 had lightly roasted him for it.

“Knock, knock.”

Your free hand fiddled with the sodden hem of your t-shirt, “Who’s there?”

“Dwayne.”

“Dwayne who?”

Soaking the flannel and wringing it out over your arm, Simon began to wash the suds away, “Dwayne the bathtub before I dwown.”

Your smile was not dampened by the tears that rolled down your cheeks and dripped onto the shallow waterline. Instead, you focused your blurry vision on Simon’s hoodie sleeves that were pushed up to his elbows, those broad forearms sprinkled with droplets and soapsuds.

When Simon was lathering up some more body wash, you offered your own joke: “What did the man say after he swallowed a clock and went to the toilet?”

“What?”

“Watch out.”

Simon snorted loudly whilst carefully manipulating your injured arm amidst the blueberry bubbles.

You wiped a new tear away on your shoulder: “I’ve already told Kyle but you can tell it to Johnny.”

“Much obliged.”

With permission and a slow touch, he started soaping up your shins. His contact always lingered for hours on your skin. This felt like a polish, not a scratch or a dent, which is why you felt so overwhelmed now, just as you did that first time he gave you a proper bear hug. You didn’t mind the blueberry, something else to focus on instead of letting yourself meander towards conjuring disturbing imaginations of what you’d just learnt about Simon’s capture in Mexico.

He let you take over for washing your thighs, sitting on the toilet still talking to you with a smile that cracked up his face like the scar, from lip to brow. His eyes never strayed from your face, though it never felt like you were a target down his scope, more like feeling the sun first thing in the morning with a delicate breeze that danced around your being. Such a gaze wasn’t alien to Simon, even if he rarely showed it to you, and never to anyone else. You were just grateful that he was able to be like this, and that he still chose to.

That same stare, he held it whilst draping a towel around your shoulders, patting over your arms before he gathered it at the front for you to hold in your healthy hand. Then he collected a pile of clean clothes from the bedroom, placing them onto the closed toilet lid, you noted the crisply ironed button up folded on top. You settled for nestling your head against his chest since you were unable to hug him.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll make dinner.”

The door was locked after Simon disappeared behind it. You did end up cutting yourself out of the shirt, rest in peace. Fogged-up, the mirror wasn’t so bad to stare at whilst you moisturised with your good hand. You could still feel where Simon’s calloused hands had brushed over your skin, tingling in each follicle, and it was protected by the button-up you were able to slide on – one of the few Simon owned. His bulk was once again your gain; the shirt was loose enough to give you some wiggle room whilst dressing.

Clattering from the kitchen caught Simon in the act of putting away the ironing board. He was taking loud and rehearsed deep breaths that hissed through the fabric of his freshly-donned balaclava, the board under his arm before he tossed it into its assigned slot. His hand shook as it released the cupboard door handle, searching for something to distract himself with until he latched his stare onto you bunching your shirt in the front.

“I can’t do my buttons up,” You said quietly.

Your stomach impulsively sucked in on itself when his hands reached for the buttons before it, joining them with the fabric. Nevertheless, your gaze found solace in the thatch of fine chest hair growing in the lowest peak of his V-neck.

Simon started from the bottom button and made his way up. With each wince, his fingers stalled. But you knew he’d never hurt you, never on purpose and never like that. He made steady progress until complete and even helped you replace your sling. But then he sniffed and brushed his nose briefly, stepping away and back to the kitchen. For five minutes he alternated between sifting through the cupboards and staring helplessly into the fridge, his face washed out by the stagnant light inside. You took the time to help him in one of the ways you knew how.

“I’ll order us a takeaway.”

Immediately he slammed shut the fridge door, “You’re a fucking star.”

You were not put off by his pacing back and forth, nor were you by his hovering over you like a gargoyle whilst you tapped at the screen – which you held in a way for him to see clearly in case he wanted to add something. A wide berth allowed you to approach him on the couch with the takeaway when it arrived half an hour later (always reliable, hence why it was your go-to takeaway place). Simon also accepted the drink you brought him, but only because he’d already gotten you one plus two pain meds he made sure you took after getting some food into your stomach first.

The cushioned lap trays you’d invested in were already paying for themselves.

Dinner inhaled and rendering you quite soporific, you mirrored Simon’s earlier actions and tentatively shuffled closer to him, “Is this ok?”

“Yeah.” His arm dropped to around your waist, and you tugged on his wrist to keep it there. Only then did you tentatively wrap yourself around his full belly.

“Fuckin’ softie,” He said under his breath. That didn’t stop him from giving you a little squeeze – his hand no longer trembling - and sinking himself lower so that there was no pressure on your sprain. He turned the volume down a little, which sparked inspiration in your mind.

Half hiding in his t-shirt, you projected loud enough for him to hear you: “The local TV controller museum shut down due to no visitors. Turns out people aren’t remotely interested.”

“Have you been researching these instead of doing your paperwork?”

“What makes you think I haven’t been doing my paperwork?”

Simon looked down at you, those expressive eyes communicating both the “are you fucking for real?” and the “you’re lucky you’re cute” in equal parts. But from the way his balaclava was balanced on his face, you could tell he was smiling at you. So you smiled back at him then snuggled back against him with a contented sigh and the existence of your new joke book still a secret (for now).

The next time you opened your eyes, it was much darker in the living room. A blanket was tucked around your legs. The glow of “Are you still watching Phil Wang: Philly Philly Wang Wang?” from the flat-screen, despite that not being what you were watching when you first drifted off, bathed you in enough low light to allow you a comfortable adjustment period. You squinted up at your boyfriend. Head back in the pillows, his chest was rising and falling with each breath he drew and released through his nose. You adjusted the blanket around to cover his legs too and, tucking yourself back into your bundle, both you and Simon slept soundly.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley fanfic #simon riley oneshot #cod #cod mw2 #mw2 #cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod oneshot #mw2 fanfic #my writing #r: gen #wc: >2k

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muddyorbsblr · 5 months

Text

feels like mine pt2

See my full list of works here!

Summary: On the worst day of his life, Tom receives an offer impossible to refuse: getting you back. Well, almost…

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: major character death; possibly a wonky timeline (the math wasn't and still isn't mathing in my pea brain); probably a wonky depiction of soulmates [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: sad meow meow hours

Three days ago…

After a good dozen takes on the same sequence from a variety of angles, Tom finally had a moment to himself, giving his assistant a signal to retrieve his phone so that he could give you a call. You'd been apart for nearly a month at this point and he missed you terribly.

The only remote relief he'd get was hearing your voice as often as he possibly could. You'd tell him all about the plot of the book you were reviewing, or what details you could divulge on the shows you were working on. Considering that you often had ironclad NDAs for them these days, you'd usually tell him of the former as it was less of a minefield.

Once his assistant handed over his phone, however, his heart caught in his throat at the screen that greeted him. Over a dozen missed calls from an unknown number in the last few hours, preceded by a text message from you.

Tom, sweetie, I'm in the hospital. It's no big deal, just a little road accident, don't worry about me. I might not be able to answer your calls for a while, since they're taking me in for surgery in a few minutes. I love you. Always.

With trembling hands, Tom returned the call from the unknown number, his heart so heavy in his chest it was a struggle to even breathe right. The next words felt as if they passed through him in a blur; he could only pick up on bits and pieces from the other end.

Drunk driver. T-bone. Internal bleeding.

And the worst words of all. I'm deeply sorry for your loss.

He took the soonest possible flight back to London, everything around him seemed a blur until he finally got to the home you two shared, his and your mothers waiting for him inside. That was the moment he finally broke, dropping to his knees and breaking out into sobs, the horrible reality cruelly sinking in once he saw their completely distraught faces.

They took your body to be cremated that day, allowing him a few minutes to say goodbye before they began the process. Your mother advised him against looking into the body bag, insisting that he wouldn't want that as his last memory of you, that he should at least get to live on with his final memory of your face being that of the loving, beaming wife he knew and loved.

The next time that you came out, it was in an urn, weighing just about the same as a baby, and he cradled you as such. For the entire car ride back to your home until he settled you in his study.

"We didn't have enough time," he said through his tears, stroking the golden urn as if he was stroking your hair. "We should have had more time."

At that moment, a voice pierced the solemn silence of your home. "I'm sorry for your loss, Thomas."

When Tom turned to see who the unwelcome visitor was, he couldn't find any words to say except one. "Impossible."

"Quite possible, really," Loki shot back, stepping into the study with palms open in a sign to tell your husband that the god meant no harm. "Anything's possible in this multiverse, I'm slowly coming to find. And in that realm of possibility, I have something to offer you."

"All due respect, I want nothing that you can give," Tom declared sullenly. "You can't give me my wife back."

"And what if I said that I can? Well, in a way."

That suddenly got Tom's full attention, placing an arm in front of your urn as if he was still trying to protect you. As if that could really do anything against a god. "I'm listening," he said cautiously.

"I've recently learnt that in every universe, there is an iteration or an echo of me, and a corresponding iteration of Y/N. In this universe, Thomas, you are my echo. In every universe, Y/N's echo is destined to fall in love with mine, and in almost every universe, that love is reciprocated," the god began to explain, creating an illusion with a wave of his hand of your wedding day.

It was nearly enough to mesmerize Tom completely, almost losing himself in the memory. In happier times. "Hang on, what do you mean almost every universe?"

"Ah, yes. That part. Well, you see, Thomas…in the universes where my echo takes on your form, world-famous actor, hordes of adoring men and women and everyone in between at his feet, getting an entire crowd to fall silent with a finger to his lips--"

"I get it, I get it, can we keep it moving, please?"

"Right then. In the universes where my echo is…Tom Hiddleston, while it is a guarantee that Y/N will love Tom, it is not a guarantee that Tom will love Y/N. There are universes where Tom barely even knows of her existence. She's in the hordes, a part of her soul knowing that she's doing exactly what she was designed to do, but confused as to why she feels as if a part of her is missing somehow."

"That's--" Tom's words choked off in a sob at the back of his throat, a new type of sadness overcoming him as he imagined a world where he never even knew you. Never loved you. "That's miserable."

"It is," the god agreed. "My offer to you is that I can reach into one of these universes where her love for you is unreturned, and I can bring her to you. Fulfill what her heart yearns for, and in return, you have an echo of your wife. Have the time that was stolen from you so harshly. So unfairly."

Tom considered the offer carefully, only moments passing before he had his first question. "What of her universe? Her family?"

"In these worlds she doesn't have much of one. For the most part she's alone, and has learnt to fend for herself in lieu of a support system." Both their hearts broke for those iterations of you, the thought of you taking on the world without anyone by your side was nearly enough to bring both men to their knees. "If you were to accept, then it would be a simple enough spell with barely any ripple effect to nullify her existence and memories of her from the minds of those still around to remember her."

Every part of him wanted to jump at the offer. To accept it without thinking. Getting another chance to spend a life with you? There should have been no hesitation at all. Except…

"If she's anything like my Y/N, she'll be smart enough to ask questions. Why her life's different from what she knew before. Whose remains are in the urn in my study. What do I tell her then?"

"That is entirely up to you." Loki's answer was not in the least bit comforting. "You can conjure up a story that she will be inclined to believe, or you can tell her the truth. Alternatively, I can offer you an easier way out of this as well. Surrender your late wife's remains to me and I can keep her somewhere safe. That way you can live on with creating your new life with this echo of your Y/N without being as tethered to your past; after all, if you wish to start this life with her, then she deserves to have you love her to the fullest extent you can afford. She deserves not to be loved half-heartedly by someone still clinging to the ghosts of his past."

Much as he agreed completely with the sentiment, Tom found himself hesitating at the thought of simply surrendering your ashes to the god. He knew what the trade would mean, and that he in turn would have more time with a version of you; however, a part of him still protested.

For would this not be a dishonor to your memory? To simply let go of you and the time he'd gotten to know you and fall in love with you in exchange for something that might not even live up to his memory of you?

And on the other hand, he thought about the version of you that was doomed to live your life with an unrequited love. The knowledge that your souls were only partly intertwined in that world had him hurt for that iteration of you. You did deserve to be loved with the same magnitude that you gave love. And if he could give that to you, then the only way that he could do so was to accept that this wouldn't be a life wherein he picked up where you and he left off. He would be building something new entirely.

It was a near impossible choice. But ultimately he knew which way he would go.

Loki's offer meant more time with you. It meant having you again. Even if it was an echo of you. At its core, it was still you.

Right?

"What would you do?" he asked the god.

"If I lost my Y/N? I'd turn the multiverse inside out to have her again. Rearrange the Realms itself until she was by my side." He paced the room as he continued his answer. "Any version of her." A smirk tugged at the onyx-haired man's mouth before tilting up his chin, assuming an all-knowing stance. "But seeing as you are an echo of me, you already knew that this was the answer, didn't you? You simply needed to hear it outside of your own thoughts. Solidify your decision."

Tom could only nod, the depth of the situation still tremendously lost on him. All he knew was that if he did this, he would have you back.

He placed your urn on the desk, pushing it towards Loki. "What do I do now?"

The god held out his hand. "Firstly, your wife's ring. I'll need it when I find an echo of her that leads her life all alone. It will be her first tie to this universe. Your universe." Tom placed your wedding ring into his hand. "Secondly, you grieve. You've suffered a great loss, and what I am to do is not a replacement of your late wife, and should not be treated as such. Mourn your loss for the next day. Then after tomorrow night, go about your morning routinely, as if she were alive."

Tom nodded again. "How will I know that it worked?"

Loki only shrugged at the actor. "Have faith. Faith that you'll see your wife again the morning after next."

With that, the god disappeared, taking both your remains and your wedding ring with him. And Tom heeded the advice, crawling into the bed you shared with him, all the memories of the life you built together and the possibilities of the life you were yet to build overwhelming him. The weight of your lost future all but crushing his heart into a million pieces.

And he wept himself to sleep.

Today…

On the second morning after Loki's offer, Tom rose from your shared bed and listened to the god's instructions from days before. He laced his shoes up, went on his usual morning run, changed into business casual attire as if he was scheduled for a Zoom call in a short while, and proceeded to start preparing a breakfast for two.

Once he had coffee brewing, he started preparing a lavish breakfast for you two to share, starting with a fruit platter. "Have faith," he whispered to himself, making the last second decision to make it a touch more decadent with a small bowl of Nutella to dip the fruit into.

If this truly was going to work, he would spoil you at every turn moving forward. Never another minute squandered, nor another craving denied.

"Have faith," he whispered again, putting on an apron to prevent any spills from ruining his white dress shirt and proceeding to slice up the fruit.

Then he heard the bedroom door open. And for the first time in days he felt the tiniest glimmer of hope.

He waited until you made your way down the stairs, fighting every urge to meet you halfway and take you into his arms. He knew you needed to acclimate into this life you'd been suddenly thrust into; Loki had done his part, now it was his turn to ease you into your new reality.

Your footsteps got closer and closer until finally they stopped just outside the kitchen area. That was the only time Tom allowed himself to turn around and look at you, relief flooding his system once he laid his eyes on you. In the silk navy blue nightgown, wearing your wedding ring.

He finally felt like he could breathe again.

"Good morning, sweetheart."

A/N: *peeks from the corner* I promised I'd have a sequel for 'feels like mine' up, and here it issssss 🫡 This isn't 'sworn fealty' after all 🤣 (in all seriousness though I will be working on a sequel to that I just have 0 idea when)

And technically this isn't a sequel but more of a prequel to part 1…all I can promise you is that there is a part 3 and it's spicy 😳👀 Dunno when that'll be out tho because I'll be returning to the requests pile but we'll see where the vibe takes me

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemis @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified

#tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x female reader #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston imagine #muddyorbs writes

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leonw4nter · 4 months

Text

The Cotton Candy Haze Mirrors The Warmth Of Your Gaze

RE2R!Leon x F!Reader

Coming back home from working 4 shifts in a single day for the fifth time this week, you went home looking and feeling like a hot mess– ponytail looking like you got into a fight and lost, eyes sunken in with dark bags underneath them, and pimples breaking out in several spots in your face and back. Despite how much your body craved a deep and restful sleep, you couldn’t give yourself that because grad school, especially medical school, won’t pay its own tuition along with living expenses. Juggling 4 odd jobs, along with working overtime for the sake of getting extra pay is really taking a toll on you: you’ve been cranky lately and you haven’t found proper time to be studying for the upcoming board exams, resorting to bringing all your books and notes in your bags so you’ll have time to read in case you’re free while still at work. Hell, you haven’t even found time to take Leon on dates due to how hectic and overwhelming everything is; you’re certain that the last time you and Leon spent some quality time cuddling together was three months ago. An icky guilt seeps into your weary bones, especially since Leon’s also taking up some jobs on the side to help with your expenses and along with his police academy’s costs but he still manages to make you meals, remind you to drink water, and drive you to wherever you need to be. With a frustrated groan, you fumble through your bag to look for your keys but unfortunately you couldn’t find it and deduced it to your forgetfulness, having left it at the bowl by the door back inside.

“Fucking hell,” you bitterly hiss. You were just about to knock at a neighbor’s door for the spare key you handed them but then you suddenly remembered that you haven’t had the chance to give them an emergency spare key yet since you were procrastinating on it, much to your disadvantage now. Exasperation causes tears to flood your waterline, your vision going blurry as you reach to contact Leon to tell him that you’ve been locked out but you forgo it, thinking that he’s probably had a long day as well and that he doesn't need another thing to be bugging him. You sink down by the door, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your sweatshirt before taking your notes out to start reviewing again since you’re free and waiting for him to come home. A few minutes pass and you hear the pad of footsteps nearing you. Swiftly, you place your notebook back in your bag and sling it over your shoulder, getting up and dusting your legs before seeing Leon’s kind smile beaming down on you like the first few rays of the sunlight on a new day.

“Hey, baby.” you softly mumble as you place a kiss on his cheek.

“Hi,” he says as he pulls you in for a quick hug. “What are you doing here?”

“Got locked out. Forgot to bring the keys. I also didn’t ask the neighbors for the keys since I didn’t give them spares yet,” you quietly admit. You look down at your feet, shame creeping in. “Leon’s had a long day and here you are, worrying him even more. Great job, Y/N. Real girlfriend of the year,” you glumly think to yourself.

“Oh– I forgot to tell you this too but I already gave the spares to the neighbors. You’ve been really busy lately so I decided to do it instead,” he says. “Sorry about that. It just slipped from my mind.”

“No. It’s fine, it really is.” you say with a tired yet genuine smile.

Leon fishes out his key from his backpack before slotting it into the keyhole and unlocking the door, opening it and letting you head in first. You slip out of your work shoes, placing your bag on the couch and collapsing right beside your things with a loud sigh.

“I’m so tired with everything,” you loudly groan as you cover your face with both hands and proceed to groan a little more. Leon walks over to the back of the couch, wrapping his arms from behind you and placing comforting kisses to your hair.

“Tell me what’s going on. I’m just going to sit here and listen,” he softly whispers as he lightly pats your shoulder.

With a deep sigh, you ramble on about everything that’s bothering you. Tears prick your eyes again and there’s more than one occasion to your voice breaking. He stays quiet, arms still wrapped around as he nods to whatever you say, occasionally pressing his lips into your head as you vent about whatever.

“I can’t afford a review center and I don’t have time to study before the board. I’m going to fail, Leon. I won’t end up somewhere,” you finish. You recline back into his touch, feeling like a ton of bricks has been lifted from your shoulders. Leon unwraps his arms around you for a bit, walking over to your place on the couch before pulling you in for a more proper hug as he delicately sways you from side to side.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s fine,” he softly mumbles. “You’ve been working and studying so hard. I can see all the effort you’re putting into making sure you reach your dreams and trust me, you will pass the board. You make time to study each day and I can see that you’ve got the drive to succeed, you can do this. Believe in yourself as much as I believe in you and your capabilities, okay?”

You sniffle, hugging back and staying silent for a bit before your shaky and slightly squeaky voice speaks up, the sound slightly muffled since you buried your face into the comforting scent of your boyfriend’s sweatshirt.

“But Leon, there’s more people who're smarter than me and they’re going to pass and I’m not going to. What if I’m not enough?” you say, which causes Leon to pull away from the hug and cup your cheeks in between his big and calloused hands.

“You’re going to pass. You’re smart, you’re my smart girl. There’s no way you’re not going to pass, okay? You will be a licensed nurse and you will reach your dreams. You’re more than enough for this and for me. Don’t let anyone and anything tell you that you’re not enough because you are. More than you’ll ever know.” He finishes with a small kiss to the tip of your nose before moving to your lips. Your own hand climbs up to lightly wrap around his wrists, maintaining comfortable eye contact.

“I’m sorry,” you softly tell him, your words coming out like a whisper.

“For what?” Leon says with a surprised smile. “You didn’t do anything wrong, love.”

“Yes I did, Leon.” you bashfully respond. “I haven’t been giving you much attention lately. You also do many things for me like driving me to school and doing my laundry but I don’t find the time to repay you. Just earlier, I got you worried because I was sitting just right outside the door when you already have a lot on your own plate. I’m just adding to that list of things that keeps you up at night and–”

Leon cuts you off by placing his index finger against your lips to shush you before gently moving you to be laying on his lap as he plays with your hair and scratches your scalp in the way he knows you love.

“Nope. I understand that you’ve gotta give a hundred percent of your attention to your studies, especially that your future job concerns human lives. I’m just doing my job by being here for you as your number one fan and making sure you still take care of yourself. I’m busy too but you’re not bothering me or causing me more stress, just the opposite actually. Now just lay on my lap and let me make you feel a lot better, yeah?” he softly says as he continues massaging your head, prompting your eyelids to drape over your eyes as you sigh in satisfaction.

“Unless you wanna have dinner first–”

“No. Let’s just stay like this for a bit.”

He continues to rake his fingers through strands of your hair, his fingers gently scratching your scalp and applying a good amount of pressure to your temples in order to effectively massage them. Most of the time, it’s you who’s giving Leon scratches and massages but it feels great to be at the receiving end of some pampering and loving from your boyfriend. He stops for a little bit, your eyes flying open to see Leon reach over to get a blanket to wrap you in it. Snuggling into the blanket, he continues his soothing ministrations to your head. You swear that if you were a cat and Leon was petting you in this way, you would purr so loud.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

You finally finished taking your board exams about a month ago and ever since then, you would eagerly open up your laptop or phone just to look at whether or not you passed. Each time, your fingers would wobble and your palms would sweat to the point you frequently wipe them on your pants so your phone wouldn’t slip out of your grip. Your thoughts would shift between the confidence that you passed since you reviewed and studied and practiced so much and the fear of failure, the icky feeling of being a failure with no direction in life eroding at the happiness you built for yourself but luckily Leon was always there to keep those crusty, self-deprecating tendencies at bay.

“You passed!” Leon practically screeches. With quivering hands he shoves his phone back into his pocket and lunges at you, almost toppling over the tables as he wraps you around in one of the best hugs he’s ever given you.

“Huh? What?” is all you could muster in this state of shock and surprise.

He pulls away and opens up your laptop, going straight to your email and the school portal where they released the list of passers. Sure enough, your last name is listed.

“My girl is going to become a licensed nurse!” he shouts with the proudest, most vibrant smile you’ve ever seen him smile.

Tears of pure, unadulterated joy spilled from your waterline and flowed down your cheeks, a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins whilst also feeling relief at the fact that you passed. Now it’s your turn to lunge at Leon, springing at him and tackling him with your arms tightly enveloped on his larger frame as you jump up and down, toppling over into the couch and hugging him even tighter due to the renewed sizzle of joy running through your person. After a few moments of laying on top of each other and smiling and pressing kisses into each other’s face, you get up and phone friends and family to tell them that you managed to pass the boards. Leon called up his own friends Ethan and Chris to tell them of your results, sending pictures. You hear Leon and his friends giggling on the other side of the room, squealing and giggling like school girls. His face, the tips of his ears, and neck are flushed a vibrant pink the more he talks about how proud he is of his girl. Many times he showed the email and your name on the passers list to his friends, cheers and congratulations being the reception whenever he did, much to his massive delight. Finally, you finish up phoning friends and family and go to Leon, pressing a passionate kiss to his soft baby lips upon his soft baby face. He could feel you grinning against him with each gentle smack; Leon quite never figured out if the beauty of your lips was more of their softness or their association with whatever words you spoke, which always pulled him under a spell he didn’t wish to surface from. You pull away, gazing deeply into eyes painted a soothing blue watercolor hue and not wanting to break this moment of peace, the sensations feeling intimate in a way more than the physical contact of bodies.

“I’m so proud of my girl. My smart, amazing, lovely, sweet girl who will be a nurse soon,” he softly whispers.

“I’m proud of myself too, Leon. Thank you for supporting me, helping me out, and being there for me when I needed you most. I couldn’t have done this without you,” you sincerely thank him.

“You’re a strong independent woman, Y/N. You don’t need anyone to get you somewhere because you carry yourself with an air of confidence and independence but I’m very thankful and lucky you let me in your life.”

“Gosh, Leon. You’re going to make me cry but thank you. I mean it so much. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“So… should we eat out? I’ve got some change to spare.”

“It’s on me. I’ve been saving up, I have a surprise for you but it won’t hurt to celebrate my Y/N’s passing.”

You smack his chest playfully, the blond laughing at his little joke.

“You made it sound like I died!”

“Oops. Looks like it might result in a grave misunderstanding.”

“God, let’s just get ready for dinner.”

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Leon's POV

I took her out to dinner that night, picking out a nice Korean grill for us to dine in since she enjoys Korean grills so much. Nothing felt more satisfying than seeing all her efforts pay off; all those readings and memorizations giving her the success she rightfully deserves. Right now, I’m seeing her devour her entire plate and in the blink of an eye she’ll get up to get seconds but I don’t mind; seeing her eat good food and indulge makes me feel happy. I feel satisfied, as if I don’t need to eat because her happiness is enough to keep me going for days on end. We’ve both decided to keep working some more jobs to be able to have more savings to add in our accounts so we could afford to move into a better place, probably nearer to Raccoon City since I’m going to be stationed there by next month. She doesn’t know this but I managed to prepare a little surprise for her, which is a 2 day camping get-away; deep in the forest, surrounded by trees, the stars shining above us, and the cold weather. She deserves a little break, we both do, so I planned this. I’m free for the next few days too so this is going to be perfect, I’m grinning just at the thought of it.

“What’re you smiling about?” she asks, but it comes out sounding a little difference since she’s got some food in her mouth.

“Nothing. You look beautiful tonight,” I respond, which isn’t exactly a lie. The buzz of glee just gives her this glow that makes me want to get on my knees and worship her like the goddess she is.

She gets back to eating, doing a little happy dance every now and then. She’s also insisted on feeding me, making sure I finish at least 3 plates because “one can never be too full”, which I appreciate since she just wants me to eat well and I want to have the energy to walk her around town tonight.

After dinner, we took a walk around town. I stopped by at a flower shop, getting her flowers as one of my many little gifts. It feels tempting to tell her about our little camping getaway coming up in a few hours but I want to build up an element of surprise and blissfully catch her off guard. The evening gets cold and a little quiet so I shrug off my jacket, draping it over her shoulders and making sure she’s all warm and toasty.

“You good?” I ask her.

“Yeah. Thanks,” she shyly says as she huddles into my jacket even more. I advised her to bring along a coat since the night could get a little chilly but she refused. As long as the cold won’t bother her and make her feel ill, I don’t really mind because I like seeing her in my clothes and having the smell of her perfume on my things. We take a few more strides, a comfortable settling between us as we walk hand in hand and go wherever our hearts desire. I turn my head and steal a lengthy glance from her; the delicate breeze sends her hair flowing smoothly like a poet’s ink and quill, the fine strands woven from spacetime and starlight as the streetlight’s luminescence bounces off; her body is absolutely perfect, worthy of all praises and respectful admiration with curves that mold in my hands just right but her genuine beauty is from within her heart; God, she’s captivating. She looks at me and I promptly look away, keeping my gaze trained on something else as heat is concentrated on the apples of my cheeks. I can hear a twinkling giggle from her, followed by her fingers pinching a cheek as she giggles even louder.

“You’re too cute, Leon. Gosh, you’re so adorable! You’re like– the most puppy-looking person I’ve ever met and I love that!” she squeals.

“Baby, my cheeks are hurting.” I say in a small voice.

She pulls her fingers away, gently running a hand over where she pinched and gave the spot a peck.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I know you can’t get enough of me.” I quip, followed by a wink.

“You’re not wrong but you’re one cocky person,” she says but a smile tugs at the corner of her lips.

“I’m your cocky person.”

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

A day later.

Hours ago, I woke her up at 4:45 AM so we could get ready. Of course, she was a bit disoriented because I didn’t say anything to her but after I told her about my little surprise, she practically launched from the bed and got ready immediately. She slept early last night– slept very soundly too, not a single noise rousing her from sleep. While she slept, I carefully slipped out of bed and packed everything we needed, her things included. It was kind of difficult, having to pack things quietly and move them to the car without causing much thudding but I managed to get it done in 3 hours. After several rounds of double checking everything and making sure there was nothing I left out, I finally made my way back up to our apartment and locked the doors to retire for the night. I could barely sleep due to the rush of giddiness coursing through my person but I forced myself to; after all, I’ll be the driver and it’s going to be irresponsible if I don’t.

Now, she’s sitting in the passenger seat with a blanket draped over her lap as she quietly drinks in the view that speeds right past the window. Everytime I see her and she innocently looks right at me, I feel a little antsy and nervous, having to feel around in my pockets and try to calm myself down. In an hour or two, we’ll get to the spot and then finally set our camp up before we start preparing the ingredients we’ll be using for cooking. The campsite we chose is a little more secluded, right by a lake that’s unfortunately too cold to safely swim in but that doesn’t take away the charm of the entire spot. The release of the board passers coincidentally going before the day of the trip I planned is a perfect coincidence, making this whole thing a celebratory trip for her but I want to add another thing to celebrate later so for now, it’ll stay as another secret.

Finally, I pull up at our spot and park the car. We carry our supplies and set up grills, our tents, and a spot to keep all of our food and drinks and utensils. We finish early so we set up the inside of our tent, placing a comfortable blanket on the floor so the bumpy and rigid ground doesn’t cause any of us back pains the following morning. All afternoon speeds past us as we spend the hours cuddling, Y/N saying something like how the weather is “perfect cuddle weather”. Soon, it’s nighttime and we finish up with everything: dinner, a quick towel bath (since the showering in this weather would get us both sick), so now we’re just sitting by the bonfire and huddling close.

“Thanks, Leon. Thank you for all this. A celebratory dinner was enough but I guess you decided to outdo yourself,” she says as she leans her head on my shoulder.

“This is nothing. Besides, you deserve this,” I say.

We sit in silence for a little bit before she speaks up again.

“We should celebrate some more wins in life, y’know. Even the little things, we should celebrate it one way or another. It doesn’t have to be this grand,” she tells me.

“Yeah. You’re right, we should celebrate wins in life,” I agree. This is it. “You’re a big win in my life, Y/N, and I want to celebrate you everyday.”

My hand slips into my pocket, my fingers feeling the velvet of a tiny box holding my promise of the world and forever to Y/N.

I can’t imagine ever growing old without you, nor do I desire to.

If all goes well, we’ve just given ourselves another reason to be celebrating.

NOTE - Woke up today to see that in a month, I've managed to hit a hundred followers!!!!!!! LET'S GOOOOO!!!!!!!!! Srsly so thankful for everyone who decided to follow me and read my fics, I love you and wish you well. I didn't expect to reach a hundred this early into my writing journey so this is so cool. I also told my mom that I write now and she seems supportive so I'm really happy with that. I guess this fic functions as a hundred-followers-special now :)) That's it and I hope you really enjoyed this fic. Again, thank you for the hundred followers!!!!! I couldn't have done it without you <3!!!

The chain dividers are made by @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

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cocogum · 17 days

Text

The Great Wave - Chapter 3 Review

‼️ SPOILERS FOR THE CHAPTER ‼️

Warning(s): extreme use of foul language.

Aurora is not pregnant.

I don’t believe it for a second, that cow is lying through her teeth. I already mentioned in the second chapter review that she just couldn’t be pregnant because there are three major reasons that easily disprove her claim.

First, it’s the amount of time that passed by. It has been a few months since Season 4 and the manga, around four months to be exact. And yet, Aurora’s stomach appears to be completely flat. How is this possible? Shouldn't there be a visible bump by now?

Second, season 3’s artbook already confirmed that Aurora was a manipulative woman and wanted to reflect it with her design (by having her hair covering one of her eyes) so who’s to say she’s telling the truth right now??

Third, @kilfeur pointed out in this post that if she was pregnant, Armand would not have allowed her to fly high up in the cloudy sky to gain knowledge about the Eliatrope goddess' eliaculus. Armand was already worried about Aurora when she went up, and the thought of her flying high while carrying their future child would have made him refuse the idea entirely, as he feared it could put their unborn child in danger.

So yeah, this skank is clearly lying her ass off just to manipulate the sadidas so that they could take her side. She’s so fucking petty omg I cannot deal with her. And her father is even worse my god wipe that ugly ass smile off your face you fatass.

This man clearly wants power that’s outside his kingdom. He just wants more even if it doesn’t belong to him and it painfully shows because he won’t stop making this fart face.

But it’s okay because as soon as Amalia opens her mouth, he immediately stops looking like a dumbass and immediately FROWNS because he knows she’s spitting FACTS.

And this is the only reason why I loved this moment. Amalia literally put him in his place and shut him up.

Amalia on the first panel: “What right do you return after you have shamelessly abandoned us? The osamodas kingdom, the nations of Bonta, Brakmar, Amakna, Astrub…”

Amalia on the second panel: “We asked you to come help us!”

Amalia on the third panel: “BUT NO ONE CAME! It was the future of the world that was at stake, not just the Sadida Kingdom!!!”

LIKE YES GIRL YES FUCKING DESTROY THIS OLD WASTE OF SPACE!!!

She literally dragged him on the fucking floor with all these facts omg I can’t she’s such a queen I love her so much. 💖💖

But then, instead of just taking it all like a good boy, this old bag of furry bones only had one thing to say and it was:

Osamodas blue cow king: “You give honor to your egocentrism, Amalia…”

Bruh what.

What are you talking about, you crusty old bat?

She drops so many facts and events that happened and this guy’s only comeback is “you’re being selfish 🥺😡”. Like what the fuck was even that???

Dude if you’ve got nothing to say, then don’t say anything but don’t just blurt out the first thing that comes out of your mouth??? Like what??

This is the equivalent of a detective who presented all the proofs that you committed the crime and the only thing you have to say is “your mama”.

Then, as if things couldn’t get any worse for this guy, he says:

Osamodas blue cow king: “My soldiers would have beat these creatures just as efficiently as yours.”

Oh yeah, where were they then, you fucking liar??? The worst part about this is that you didn’t even try hiding the fact that you would’ve been ‘ready’ but you’re so dumb you have no idea how brain-dead that makes you sound right now. You’re saying you could’ve sent your men BUT YOU DIDN’T DO SHIT. WHAT’S WORSE IS THAT YOU KNEW THE SADIDAS NEEDED HELP CUZ UR STUPID DAUGHTER FLED TO GO BACK TO YOU.

Also didn’t you once claim that Armand’s army was weaker than yours but then all of a sudden you’re now saying that your army could’ve beat the necromes like theirs did???

(oh oop- Armand don’t kill him yet 😭)

Bitch doesn’t even know what he’s talking about anymore. I doubt he even knows wtf he’s saying half the time.

Are you dumb???? Are you actually suffering from constipation????

You’re implying that you were free to help and that you knew they needed help. YOU’RE INDIRECTLY SAYING THAT YOU KNEW AND DIDN’T HELP DESPITE HAVING THE TIME TO DO SO.

While the old fart is yapping, Yugo’s face is just so 🫤😑 I’ve been staring at this panel for 2 minutes now and I love how fucking out of it he looks while listening to the cow 😭 Actually, I’m not even sure if he’s listening, I think he’s just hearing him from one ear but it all goes out on the other side. He looks like a god who’s about to squash an annoying ass ant lol

He’s literally like “is this bitch fr?”

Like Yugo is 100% confident to say that the osamodas king had no idea what the hell he was talking about when he thought his troops and he would’ve been able to fight off the necromes.

Yugo: “You have absolutely no idea what we saved you from!”

Yugo’s making that face cuz he knows the king has no clue what he’s barking about. (Also can’t Yugo just use his wakfu sensing abilities to check if Aurora is actually carrying another twelvian?? Or is he not able to do that because an unborn child does not have wakfu yet?) Little blue bro doesn’t know what necromes even are cuz Yugo never told him about them so how the hell was he supposed to know if his men would’ve stood a chance???? No seriously is this cow okay? Why is he talking? Is he talking just for the sake of talking?? Is he that self-conscious that he’ll make up lies on the spot just to protect his image??? The cow king doesn’t even know that the necromes had a leader. Yugo and Amalia are dealing with a fucking grown-ass child omg.

Osamodas blond cow: “I left because I made the promise to my dear Armand.”

This is a lie. Armand never heard of any promise. An analysis conducted by @geekgirles even indicated otherwise, supporting that the claim made by Aurora was fake. According to the analysis, Aurora was more inclined towards her family than her new life with Armand, and the claim that he made any promises to her was baseless. If you wish to read the detailed analysis conducted by @geekgirles on this matter, you can find all of it in this post.

I’ll now explain to you, in my own words, why her bullshit is hot donkey ass. Keep in mind that the whole reason why she left was to protect “the child” aka “the future heir”. As I said before, Aurora couldn’t have promised Armand anything because he knew she still held a bit too much on her osamodas family. From what we’ve seen, Aurora had the time to go back to the Osamodas kingdom to check up on them because of the eliaculus in the skies, had sided with her osamodas family during the meeting with the eliatrope goddess, had tried to marry off Amalia to one of her brothers and cousin, deliberately brought some of her relatives to Armand’s coronation to….stand around, and even keeps her father around in the Sadida kingdom when he should either be ruling his own kingdom or go back to his cave. Armand is not a moron. He knows that she constantly brings her own family to a place that doesn’t need them. So when he’s about to sacrifice his life unbeknownst to Amalia, he tells her this:

“The future is yours.”

Armand had passed the torch to Amalia.

It's worth noting that this is a crucial moment because he chooses not to pass the leadership to his own wife, Aurora. This decision is based on the fact that Aurora is heavily influenced by her family and is unable to make independent choices. At the same time, he also chooses not to give it to someone else who is just as important.

And that is the imaginary baby that Aurora is carrying.

Remember that the baby doesn't exist, and that's an important fact to keep in mind. Armand, who still loves Aurora, doesn't trust her enough to give her the leading role, or any role for that matter, especially not one that involves a child they could potentially have together. Instead, he gave the role to his sister. Aurora knows this and is fully aware that her promise to him was never even a thing. In Armand’s mind, it wouldn't have mattered if she ran away because he never intended to give her a part of the kingdom’s responsibilities in the first place, even though her getting away like that would have hurt his heart.

And Aurora is over here saying that her dad will help her lead the sadidas while she’s pregnant, girl sit your ass down no one called for you. Hoe thought she was in the same group as freaking warriors, shut up. You clearly want your father to rule for a much longer time literally wtf.

Osamodas blond cow: “During my pregnancy, my father will help me lead the kingdom…and I also count on him to train the future heir.”

It's concerning that her explanation might make sense to the sadidas. I'm not sure how she managed it, but that skank made it sound like her father would automatically assist her in ruling the Sadida Kingdom (despite them being Osamodas) since she would be pregnant and without aid due to Armand's demise. And after her baby would be born, her father would train him under his guidance to make him become strong and successful. She made it sound like a simple plan with no problems attached to it. She hasn’t even mentioned if the “baby” was an osamodas or a sadida. She only mentioned the gender, that the baby was a male (in French, when she calls the unborn child “the heir” she says it by using male pronouns).

Hey, Aurora what happens when your lie doesn’t work anymore because your stomach will still stay flat after eight months? You’re gonna tell the people that you swallowed the baby or something? That it fell down? What happens when you can’t keep up with your lie anymore?? Huh? Ever thought about that, you dumb bitch?

I have an idea, Amalia: how about you throw Aurora to the other side of the world and then try to get yourself pregnant by using Yugo so that you can also have a better reason to stay? Or better yet, you can tell her to prove her pregnancy because again, HER STOMACH IS FLATTER THAN A WASHBOARD AFTER ALL THESE MONTHS. Make her suffer from her lie and try to make her work hard for it.

You know when a dog lifts his tail and head up while he’s walking away from something cuz it shows just how sassy and confident they are? I see no difference with this crappy blue cow ‘family’ except that it ain’t cute when they do it.

They just ignored everything Amalia and Yugo said, looked the other way from every proof and situation that they were currently in, and only brought out Aurora’s pregnancy as a trashy uno reverse card, then decided to dip out before blurting out that they were gonna wait NEXT TO ARMAND’S FUCKING TREE GRAVE SO AMALIA CAN PREPARE HER STUFF TO LEAVE.

Osamodas blonde cow: “We are going to pray at Armand’s grave tree, while you make your arrangements.”

The fucking nerve to say that.

I don’t give a shit if she’s crying while saying it, this bitch is supposed to be a professional manipulator.

She and her family have no shame whatsoever. They genuinely thought they did something there. The only thing they had as “leverage” against Amalia and Yugo was Aurora’s stupid “pregnancy”. And even if she was actually carrying Armand’s kid (for whatever reason), her reason would still be shit cuz Armand already declared in his final hour that Amalia was going to take his role.

Osamodas blond cow: “Your presence here is no longer desired, sister-in-law. Just do what you’ve always done…Go explore the world!”

Like-

Who are you???

Blond cow had the audacity to exist.

Not only do we know that the royal osamodas family are liars and manipulators, but we also now know that they’re complete dumbasses for even wanting to rule the Sadida kingdom of all kingdoms. The Sadida kingdom is not built like theirs. The Sadida culture and its customs are extremely different and very much the opposite of the Osamodas since these two races are polar opposites. The Sadidas care about plant life while the Osamodas care about wildlife. It would be extremely hard for the osamodas to fully accept a culture that preaches everything that opposes what they preach. Not only that, but the Sadida kingdom is the literal embodiment of nature. If anything tries to hit its source no matter how big or small, then there would be dire consequences to the entire ecosystem of the world. The Tree of Life is such a big deal in fact that Armand even nicknames it “the lungs of this world”.

And to protect it, you not only need to be one with nature, but that also means you need a SADIDA to guard it which is a person that can literally SPEAK FOR THE TREES. Aurora you NEED Amalia, not only because she’s a Sadida, but because she’s also a royal AND has the strongest connection to the tree more than any other sadidas. You’re not just ruling a kingdom, you’re taking care of the world’s core.

And Aurora’s father doesn’t seem to understand that very important detail. When Armand reveals to him that the sadida kingdom keeps getting targeted at all times because it represents the lungs of the world, this fucking dumbass cow thinks that it’s because the sadidas are weak and can’t protect their own home which is why it keeps getting attacked.

Aurora’s father is such an idiot that he doesn’t even understand why the kingdom is so precious when he’s just been TOLD THE ANSWER DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF HIS FUCKING FACE.

At this point, even a iop would get it. BECAUSE THE PERCEDAL FAMILY ACTUALLY UNDERSTOOD THE ASSIGNMENT-

This is why imagining an osamodas ruling the Sadida kingdom is a literal death sentence. Because an osamodas, someone who only takes care of beasts, shouldn’t be able to properly take care of the sacred tree that links every single living plant in the world. For fuck sake, Aurora, why do you think they call it “the Tree of LIFE”?????

If the Tree of Life doesn’t have a proper guardian (aka A FUCKING SADIDA), then it dies. And if it dies, that means the ecosystem dies. Aurora, you dumb blond, let me explain it in osamodas language: if every green that you see outside disappears, that means that your stupid animals won’t be able to properly eat, shit, reproduce, drink, breathe, and live. And yes, Aurora that last one also means that they won’t have a surface to walk on, aka death.

You don’t have a brain because you keep listening to your egocentric manipulative fat father every time he opens his mouth and you keep making constipated decisions without thinking about the later outcomes because you think you’re in control of the situation.

The only thing you can do, and I’m being generous here by giving you a “talent”, is to shut the fuck up and sit there looking pretty. You did a good job doing that in Season 4 and I want you to do that again. And while you’re at it, go make me a sandwi-

Not only does Aurora need Amalia, the sadida who has the strongest link to the Tree of Life, but the Osamodas king also needs Yugo. I’m not sure why these blue people didn’t catch the fact that there’s a gigantic ass necrome dragon that’s only been PARALYZED and is currently standing in the fucking Sadida Kingdom’s backyard. The dragon is very easy to spot and the only reason why Yugo still keeps the eliatrope dofus on him at all times is to prepare himself for when the dragon gets out of this state. Because yes, Armand did beat him, but he didn’t kill him. Again, you are not able to kill a necrome. If the royal Osamodas family somehow takes hold of the Sadida kingdom, how the fuck are they gonna beat a fucking dragon, one of the most powerful fucking entities of this world who also had been necrofied to NEVER FUCKING DIE??? The osamodas cow king never saw a necrome, never beat a necrome, doesn’t know how it became a necrome, and doesn’t know where it comes from. Since he doesn’t know shit about the necromes, how is he gonna be able to fight a fucking necrome DRAGON?????

Sweeties, do you get it now?

Staying in the Sadida kingdom isn’t for power-hungry clowns. Staying in the Sadida kingdom means that you’ve gambled with your life more than once and you know the taste of adventure and combat. Staying there means knowing that your life can be taken away from you by either the enemies who try to take the literal lungs of the world, or the paralyzed undead dragon who can wake up at any time if he simply wanted to.

You bozos NEED Yugo and Amalia to the point where you can’t even be the ones to stay there, let alone own the place. You can’t stay there because there is so much to keep guard of, to be aware of, and to be ready for. The sadidas have practiced this dance for centuries now and they’ll keep doing it even harder because of an additional menace that is living on their grounds, the dragon being that very threat. Now, not only do the sadidas have to be vigilant of the outside, but they also have to be vigilant of the inside.

So yeah, the royal osamodas are a goofy ass family and I hate the circus.

(i love how the French commentaries on Allskreen and the Krosmoz app are clowning this family lol everyone understood the assignment)

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redflagshipwriter · 2 months

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Hi, it's Tim (just Tim) chapter 6

Masterpost

San Francisco was a breath of fresh air. It would have been better if Dick wasn’t shepherding him there like the world’s most anxious and chatty herding dog. Tim halfway wanted to make a break for it to see if Dick would bark at him.

He nobly resisted the urge. He actually hadn’t gotten in trouble for going no contact. Incredibly, Bruce hadn’t noticed that he had been with Superboy. He must really be wound up about the Red Hood.

Speaking of- “What’s the Red Hood done that makes B think I’m the target to be concerned about?” Tim asked.

Dick looked a little ill. He clearly didn’t want to answer. “Well, he’s been pretty clear,” he said apologetically. “Very clear. A lot of metaphors about breaking off your wings that B is taking pretty seriously. It’s like English class all over again,” he complained. Dick scrunched up his face and gestured wildly with his long elegant hands. “There was this like, poetic reference that I didn’t get, but it was about stomping on a bird and crushing all their bones under your boot. B had to look it up.” He cocked his head to the side at the end.

…This guy was referencing poets B didn't know offhand, and they were meant to think he was some big scary thug?

“...So he’s, uh, well-read, then,” Tim concluded, adding it to the very short list of things they knew about the Red Hood. “Loser.”

“We shouldn’t say that,” Dick demurred, which meant ‘lol yeah.”

Tim gave the older bird a judgemental look for even trying as Dick typed in pass codes for Titan Tower. That was their whole thing as Bats. They took information and made deductions. This particular deduction made him feel cockier. While the big bad Red Hood had been wasting time reading, Tim had been studying the blade and uh, making out with a really hot guy. Heh. He couldn't hold in the self satisfied smirk. Hood was a loser. He could use his time much better than by reading moldy old books.

Dick stayed long enough to get Tim settled, but he was clearly anxious to get back to Gotham.

Tim was torn. On the one hand, he did not like essentially being benched. But… Well, he wasn't benched outside of Gotham, Tim decided, wandering through the shared kitchen and rummaging around for a snack. He could go on any Titans mission that came up. He opened the fridge and squinted suspiciously at something in the vegetable crisper.

He had always assumed someone really liked potatoes. But knowing what he did now, he wondered if those were Kon’s groceries. Did the guy just eat raw fruit like some kind of lunatic?

…Maybe no one kept potatoes there after all. He had thought it was weird since he never really saw anyone cook. Tim picked the suspect up and sniffed at it. This ugly thing was a fruit?

Well. He was brave and he was bold. Tim bit through the skin. His teeth sank in with much less resistance than he expected: not a raw potato. It tasted okay. This was Kon’s favorite flavor? Tim had another bite and mulled it over. It was alright. It wasn’t exactly bacon and artichoke pizza or sour cherry candy, though.

Huh. He shut the fridge door with his hip and made his way to his room, planning to drop off his travel bag.

A window opened and slammed shut nearby. Tim detoured to see who it was. His heart beat hard against his chest when he rounded the corner.

“Superboy,” he said casually, as if he hadn't been making out with the guy a couple hours ago.

“Hey, Rob.” Kon breezed past, obviously lost in thought. He stopped midair and frowned. “Do you smell mango?”

Tim hid the half eaten fruit in his utility belt. “No. Maybe you're just hungry.”

Gaslight gatekeep girlbossing worked, as always. Kon let out a “huh,” cocked his head, and zipped away to the kitchen.

Ah, hell. Tim realized he was smiling like a dope to the empty hallway. He wiped the expression from his face and hoped that no one ever reviewed that section of security tape. How embarrassing.

He hid away in his room for a while, letting tactics and plans stew away in his mind. He was hyper aware of the fact that Kon was somewhere in the tower. Was anyone else? He didn't know. He should check.

While he was at it, he should try and hack into whatever B was hiding about the Red Hood on the bat computer. Tim spun idly in his desk chair as he thought it over. Bruce was being twitchy. He wanted Tim so far away from the situation that Tim knew in his gut it would eventually be his problem. That was how this shit always worked; the most dramatic thing possible would happen.

He emerged from his room to find Kon in some kind of argument with Cassie. Tim decided to stay way the fuck away from that. He steered to the living room. Raven looked up from her book, expression flatly unamused.

“Robin.” She acknowledged. Then she looked away.

She was in a great mood, then.

He checked through the logs: it was just the four of them. As Tim watched, Cassie's status dinged to display ‘out of the tower’.

Just the three of them, then. And Raven wasn't going to come seek anyone out.

Tim went Kon hunting. Kon was sprawled out in his room, tossing something up and down. It glittered where it caught the air.

“Superboy,” he said, leaning on the doorframe casually. Did it look casual? Did it look douchey? Tim stood up straight before Kon looked up.

“Hey, Rob,” Kon said. He flashed his toothiest grin at Tim. Fuck, he was pretty. “Did you want something?”

“Yeah, I wanted to talk. Can I come in?”

Kon sat up on his elbows. “Come right the hell in, my dude.” He cocked his head to the side and a curl fell over his face. “Everything alright?” A smile tugged one half of his mouth up mischievously. “Come sit on my lap and tell me all about it.”

The thing was that Kon said shit like that all the time. He said it to Tim, he said it to Cassie, he said it to any number of civilians. Tim had thought that Kon was just being kind of a bitch to him.

“Thanks,” he said easily, and sat with his knees on either side of Kon’s thighs.

Kon’s mouth fell open. Tim waited, but no sound came out.

“I was actually wondering- you say things like that to me a lot,” Tim continued, feeling very smug. Haha, Kon hadn't just been needling him. He'd been pulling pigtails. He wanted Tim, what a loser. “A guy starts to get the impression that you're interested. And…” he dragged his gaze pointedly down Kon’s perfect body. “I'm not disinterested,” he finished coyly.

“Robin.” Kon swallowed visibly. “I uh. I'm really flattered.”

Ah. Fuck. Tim had a very bad feeling.

“I'm kind of seeing someone at the moment.” Kon’s voice cracked. “If- if I hadn't been, I would be all over this. But I am. So.” His hands hovered uselessly a few inches from Tim’s sides.

Well then. Tim slid off Kon’s lap. He didn't let howling frustration show on his face. He was cock blocking himself. “I see,” he said simply. “No worries. I'll see you around.”

“Right.” Kon’s voice cracked again. He shoved his hands in his pockets. His eyes were wild.

Wow. Okay, so life isn't fair. It was good to know. Tim sulked his way back to his room. Well no, actually, he hated this information a lot. But it was useful for his prediction models. He should have known better than to think things would work out.

On the one hand, Kon was apparently loyal to his flavor of the week. Tim could choose to appreciate that, since he was flavor for early September.

Or he could be mad that he'd apparently chosen the wrong ID to flirt with Kon under. He paced an angry circuit in his room around the pile of things he was going to eventually reconstruct. Hell. Fuck. This sucked. Kon had a crush on Robin, the guy he actually knew. What a wasted opportunity!

He calmed down enough to think.

Of course that was when sirens went off. Tim booked it to the landing pad, pulling up the alert on his wrist computer on the way.

They had a mission. Okay. Tim compartmentalized away all the mortification. He could deal with it after they got back.

#red just tim #timkon #tim drake

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dulcewrites · 2 years

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could you do some austin angst where he cheats on the reader with olivia while filming and they have a baby together and a little later on they are co parenting austin’s single but when the reader drops their son off at austin’s house she tells him she’s going on a date and he gets jealous and then whatever ending u want

Strangers by Nature

Pairings: austin butler x reader (wc: 1.4k)

Warnings: mentions of cheating, austin being messy and possessive

Requested: yes (thank you I like this idea) . This lowkey took a different turn than I thought I would but I think it’s pretty good so I hope you enjoy it as well

A/N: I don’t know why some my personal ideas about what to write make austin a little… toxic? It could be me projecting to find something wrong with him lol. I want to write more about him but I am someone who normally stays away from reading/writing about real people myself. Anyway [insert disclaimer about me not knowing austin, this being fiction, and people needing to be respectful and understand boundaries when writing about real folks]. Also I was slightly inspired by the “when you’re 40, and I’m 50 we’ll be back together” scene from Elvis (2022).

timeline clear up: austin is 31, you’re 29 in 2022. You guys were together for around 9 years in 2020 (when he cheated). You had your son in 2016 (so he is 6 in 2022, he’s a cancer sun with a leo moon lol)

You keep going over how the conversation will go in your head. What he is going to say, and what you’re going to say in rebuttal. Maybe you shouldn’t even tell him about the date? The car ride over to Austin’s place is filled with thoughts being so loud you feel a headache coming on. The only thing competing with your loud thoughts is Mateo’s loud singing.

Well, at least you can say the private school music classes are paying off.

Once you get in the driveway. You for a moment, leaning your head against the steering wheel to take a moment to breathe. You and Austin have been coparenting for two years now, and the drop offs are still not easy.

“Mommyyyyyy, go in,” Mateo starts to whine.

You sigh and give him a smile in the review mirror before getting out. As you take him out of his booster seat, he whispers in your ear.

“Daddy said he’s gonna teach me guitar.”

You raise an eyebrow. Sometimes you resent it; how Austin gets to be the fun, artistic parent that connects with Mateo on that level. You don’t have an artistic or creative bone in your body, it’s the reason why you work in software development. Mateo is fascinated with what his dad does. Hell, you were fascinated too when Austin and you met.

“Sounds fun baby.”

You grab his bag and walk him up to the door. You watch as he happily bounces on his feet to the tune of the doorbell, waiting for Austin to come to the door. The door swings open; Austin’s attention instantly go down to Mateo, and he picks him up into a big hug. There is something special about watching them interact; two peas in a pod.

Austin and you share a less than graceful side hug. It’s more him putting his arm around you, and you trying not to be awkward about it.

“We need to talk,” he whispers in your ear. Well, that’s cryptic.

You and Austin often don’t have long unmediated conversations about things outside of Mateo because it always ends in someone getting their feelings getting hurt. It’s hard to swallow that there was a time where he was your best friend. The person you told everything to.

Despite the confusion, you followed him into the house towards the kitchen.

“Buddy, why don’t you go put your stuff away and we’ll call you down when mom is about to go.”

Mateo takes off to his room. There’s a beat of silence before Austin starts.

“So, how are you?” his smile is breezy, and his tone is light. Too light.

“I’m fine,” you reply slowly. Did you really need to come in for this? He could’ve texted.

“The funniest thing happened last week,” he says, leaning against the kitchen island. “Matty came up to me and was like ‘daddy, I have a secret’.”

Mateo is in this phase where he thinks everything is a secret. If he must use the restroom, it’s a secret. If he wants to wear blue instead of red, it’s a secret. He saw a lizard at recess. A secret.

“And he then he says, ‘mommy is doing something special on Saturday’,”

Your stomach drops into your ass. Not your baby being the person who rats you out. How did he even know? Oh god, do you talk that loud on the phone? This is not how you wanted this to come out. Then you remember, you’re an adult. Who cares what Austin thinks?

“Well, now that you mention it,” you try to sound as nonchalant as possible. “I do have a date tomorrow.”

The last first date you went on was with Austin… in 2011. You haven’t been “on the market” since your late teens. To say you’re nervous about the whole thing is putting it lightly. The last thing you need is Austin browbeating you about it.

“Now that I’ve mentioned it. You’re joking right?”

“I was going to tell you,” You quickly reply.

And you were… sometime soon. If it wasn’t today or tomorrow, it would’ve been sometime next week. He doesn’t have a right to be mad or to be giving you the look he is right now. As if he’s betrayed by the fact you would want to date. You should’ve been expecting this. Dr. Shula, your family therapist, said dating was going to be a tricky thing for you two to navigate.

You honestly thought he would be the first one to take the plunge. But maybe that’s your resentment talking.

“Are you doing this to punish me,” he huffs. “I say I want to make us work, and you go and do this.”

You always knew Austin regretted what he did, and that all he wants is for things to go back to how they were. It’s just something you’ve always shot down. Sometimes you wondered if he says it because that’s the “right” thing to say after you cheat.

“Because I got the hint when you didn’t come to any premieres.”

And there it is. He said he didn’t mind, but you knew better. The biggest moment in his career, and he was alone. A part of you did feel bad every time you declined. Or when you offered sending Matty there, and making it clear you wouldn’t join. But now having it thrown back in your face made your blood boil a bit.

Why would you want to go and pretend to be happy about a movie that basically ruined your relationship? Be around the person who helped him fuck it all up.

You were ready to be there for every premiere, talk to him about every interview, cheer him on about this role that meant so much to him. He’s the one that changed that.

“You really don’t get it do you?” you ask with a cynical chuckle; you can’t help but laugh. He’s never going to get it because despite the ups and downs you had over your relationship, you never broke his trust the way he broke yours.

“I thought… I thought things were turning around after I came back,” he says, sounding defeated.

Your shoulders drop and let out a sigh. He’s talking about when he was sick after filming. When you came and stayed with him. It was the first time the three of you were in that house together since early 2020.

“Austin, you know me better than that. If you need help, I’m not going to turn my back on you,” you try to sound sympathetic. You hadn’t seen Austin like that in long time. That low. “You’re the father of my child. You’re wellbeing matters to me.”

“So, that’s all it was. You 'taking care of the father of your child'.”

You can’t look him in eye for too long. He knows it’s more than that. You know it’s more than that. But you don’t know if you’re ready to say that again. Ready to put that much faith in him again.

“Look, I know this isn’t want you want,” you lean over and grab his hand. “But you need to let me do this.”

The next part is implied. Let you do this and then you can make up your mind. Maybe you’ll be ready to try again. Maybe it will be the risk you you need to take to get over him.

“You know you’re it for me right,” he squeezes your hand. “We’re gonna come back together after we figure this out.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes. That’s the scary part; he might be it for you too, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You wipe your face, and try to pull yourself together before calling out Mateo’s name.

You say your goodbyes to him before sending him back to play then turn to Austin.

“Stay safe. If anything happens tomorrow, you call me immediately,” Austin’s voice reminds you of how he talks Mateo when he really needs him to listen.

“Ok dad,” you joke before surprising both yourself and him by pulling him into a hug. Despite how you two go at each other, you don’t enjoy seeing him upset. It doesn’t give you the satisfaction you hope it would.

“I love you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. He loves you. You simply hum in response. Is love always enough?

#this is more sad that I thought it would be :/#austin butler fic #austin butler x reader #austin butler x oc #austin butler imagine #austin butler x black!reader #black!reader #elvis 2022 #my writing #requests

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kcrossvine-art · 2 years

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Hewwo! baps your face off! TODAY from the big book of Redwall cookin’, we have my fuckin favorite recipe thus far; Rosey's Jolly Raspberry Jelly Rock Cakes- The one that I've actually had ready to go for a few weeks now but I kept eating it too fast to take notes. Buckle into your buggies, hotshots.

(You can find the original recipe at the bottom if you’d like to follow along, and i plead you do)-

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to a Jolly Raspberry Jelly Rock Cake?” YOU MIGHT ASK

All-purpose flour

Baking powder

Salt

Unsalted butter

Sugar

Eggs

Raspberry jam or jelly

Went to read this recipe and upon realizing i had every ingredient- from start to finish it took about an hour and half from deciding to make it to being able to eat it!

AND, “what does Jolly Raspberry Jelly Rock Cake taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASK

Excellence. Pure comfort. Food that heals bones and hearts. Food that laces up scars. Food you make for your lover in bed on a cold rainy day.

Not quite fluffy, but very soft, smooth center

Crumbly, again soft, outer

Tart raspberry jam is the crown jewel of the piece. Mwah. God.

Rich and refreshing

The sprinkled sugar comes out not overbearingly sweet

Do try to eat/serve these warm, they keep well, but the jam will start to absorb into the pastry

Most jam or fruit filling works here, as long as it has some tartness, the world is your oyster. Grab your oyster fork. Feel weird about having an oyster fork.

Like a molten lava cakes baby cousin-

. Used fine granulated sugar

. Used salted butter (and only a pinch of salt instead of tsp.)

. Used raspberry jam

. Served with goat cheese caramel lightly drizzled

. Bumping the cook time up from 15 to 17 minutes let the edges brown a bit more which I recommend I think in the future I would like to also try pairing this with slices of strawberry, or perhaps fresh raspberries placed on top? Its hard to spitball pairing ideas because Most Things would pair fair!!

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Gentlethems of the Jury, we here at crossy wossys kitschy kitchy, welcome our very first 10/10

I so dearly need to communicate that I've had this art made for a good week now, I first baked this almost 2 weeks ago, and am just now getting around to writing the actual review. I like to have the food in my mouth to write about the flavor/mouthfeels section. And I kept eating them too fast to take notes. I've used almost a whole bag of sugar making these on repeat and my teeth surely hate me but the heavens sneer enviously.

These fellas don't seem rather persnickety- I think one would have to actively try to mess up the recipe in a way where its no longer delicious. These are essentially scones with more variety in textures and flavors! The aforementioned latest batch was made at 4am halfmindedly with multiple perceived mistakes, and the only difference from the first carefully attended-to batch was that they were slightly less pretty to look at, both being absolutely mouthwatering.

The low fussy-ness, low spoons (for me!), and delicious outcome that can pair with many drinks, makes this a flawless pastry in my eyes. a proud 10/10, with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

1 and 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, plus additional for rolling the dough

1 and 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

6 tablespoons unsalted butter or margarine, chilled and cubed, plus additional for the baking sheet

1/2 cup sugar, plus additional for sprinkling

2 eggs, lightly beaten

Raspberry jam or jelly

Method:

Preheat the oven to 400° F and grease a baking sheet.

In a mixing bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder and salt. Add the butter and rub it into the flour with your fingers (alternately, pulse the dry ingredients and butter in a food processor) until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Stir in the sugar. Make a well in the centre, add the eggs and mix well to form a stiff dough.

Turn the dough out onto a floured board and form it into a roll. Cut the dough into ten pieces, shape them into balls and place them well apart on the baking sheet.

Use your thumb to make a hole in the centre of each and fill the hole with jam or jelly.

Pinch the dough closed over the jam, sprinkle the rock cakes with a little sugar and bake them until golden brown, about 1 5 minutes.

Cool the cakes on a wire rack and eat them while fresh, preferably on the same day.

#redwall #cooking recipe #food #cross cooks redwall #digital art

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wavypotatochips · 1 year

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Heyy can I request something soft and calm with Trent when u have a very bad day so he tries to make you happy to stay home with you on a rainy and cold day🥹

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 | 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐀𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐥

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: Trent Alexander-Arnol x Female Reader

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 : 1.8k

𝘈𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦: I don't watch Liverpool so I wasn't too sure of Trent's personality, but I did my best as always! I also tweaked your request a bit so I hope you do not mind ((: I Hope you like how I represent your idea ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚!!

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ REQUESTS ARE OPEN, Ive finished 4/7 request that I currently have and will schedule them to be posted throughout the week so be on the look out for your request c: <33 ♥

The sound of thunder rumbles in the distance as you sit at your desk, surrounded by textbooks, notes, and a dimly lit lamp. The rain is pouring down outside, pattering against the windowpane like an incessant drumbeat. You've been studying for hours, but the information just doesn't seem to be sticking. You read a page of notes, and it seems like the words are just jumbled letters on a page. You try to remember the names of the bones in the human body, but they all blur together in your mind. You continue to review the information, trying different study techniques like creating flashcards, drawing diagrams, and taking practice quizzes. But the more you try, the more frustrated and stressed you become. You take a deep breath and try to focus, but your mind keeps drifting. You got this you got this, you think to yourself. You start to feel a knot in your stomach as the realization sets in that you might not be ready for this exam. You try to reassure yourself that you've studied as much as you can, but the fear of failure creeps in. As you delve into your notes, lightning flashes in the sky, illuminating the room for a split second before disappearing just as quickly. The flicker of light startles you for a moment, but you quickly regain your composure and return to your studies. As the morning goes on, you become more and more exhausted, both mentally and physically. You're running out of time, and the pressure is building. You want to cry, scream, or just give up. But you know that you can't afford to do any of those things. You have to push through and keep studying, even if it feels like it's all for nothing.You began studying at six in the morning, and it is now three o'clock. Since you are studying for your current class, Anatomy and Physiology, Trent has not bothered you because he understands how important it is for you to be by yourself so you can concentrate. After all, majoring in Sports medicine is not the easiest thing in the world.

Trent yells, "Babe," and lifts his fist to knock. After a little wait, there was no response. He knocks once more, this time slightly louder, but there is still no answer. When he gently opens the door, he sees you seated in the desk chair with papers all over the place and your head down against the textbook.

You do not hear Trent as you are too lost in your mind so feeling his hand touch your shoulder causes you to jump up and quickly turn your head. Just by the way you are looking at him he could tell something was wrong. You are always beaming with light, Trent would say if someone asked him to describe you, your smile could light up the whole room. Your eyes are always so lovingly that each time you would look into his eyes, it would cause his heart to tug. But right now, you have a slight frown on your face and your eyes are droopy. You look up into his eyes as he stares down at you, analyzing. You see he is wearing a black tracksuit and has his futebol bag in his hand, “Oh you came in to tell me you are heading out for practice? Have fun,” you give him a small smile as if you are feeling okay, and of course Trent does not buy it. When it is raining, or in this case thunderstorming, they usually practice inside so it is no surprise that he still is about to head out. You are about to turn around, but then hear him speak, “Did you eat yet?” You shake your head no, “I haven't had time…. Or should I say I don't feel the need to?” “Didn't you say the exam is on Friday?,” he questions, causing you to nod your head. Today is Monday, but of course anatomy is not something you can just study at the last minute in hopes to pass the test. He stares at you for a few minutes, before dropping his bag and grabbing your hand. “Come on, you've been studying all morning and it is draining you.” As he grabs your hand to pull you out of your seat you begin to protest,”But Trent I-” “You will be fine. You studied today, and you can continue to study more tomorrow. But, Don't try to study all day because that's when your brain goes into overdrive… Plus I don't think the thunderstorm is helping you right now,” and as if on cue- a loud roar of thunder can be heard. You sigh, nodding your head, giving in. He smiles as he takes you out of the study room, bringing you into the living room and notions for you to sit down on the couch. He picks up the remote from the coffee table, handing it to you, “Pick out a movie for us to watch and I will be right back.” You are about to question where he is going, but he is already quickly leaving the room. You bite your bottom lip, exhaling a deep sigh as you mentally give in and try to destress yourself. You begin to flip through Netflix to try and find a movie for you two to watch.

Meanwhile, Trent stood in the kitchen, staring at the open fridge, trying to decide what to make for you since you more than likely have not eaten yet. He knew he wanted to make something fulfilling, yet light on the stomach. He scanned the shelves, looking for inspiration. He saw some fresh vegetables, a carton of eggs, and some cheese. He decided to make you a vegetable omelet, as he knew you loved them.He quickly chopped up some onions, peppers, and mushrooms, and sautéed them in a pan. Then he whisked some eggs in a bowl, added a splash of milk, and poured them into the pan. As the omelet started to set, he sprinkled some cheese on top and folded it over. He plated the omelet, along with a side of fresh fruit and some toast. He also poured a glass of orange juice, knowing it was your favorite.Trent carries the breakfast to the living room, where he sees you sitting on the couch, looking stressed and tired. He presents you with the plate, and a warm smile.

"Here you go, my love," he said. "I made you a vegetable omelet, just the way you like it." The aroma from the food fills your nostrils, instantly making your stomach grumble to remind you just how hungry you unconsciously are. You smile as you grab the plate from him, thanking him, and instantly grab the fork to begin to eat. Trent sits down beside you, watching you intently as you savor each bite of your meal. He couldn't help but admire your beauty, from the way your hair cascaded down your shoulders to the way your eyes sparkled in the light. As you take another bite, Trent's mind begins to wander. He thought about all the times you two had spent together, laughing, talking, and just being with each other. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to have such an amazing girl in his life. Lost in his daydream, Trent didn't even notice when you finished your meal and looked up at him. "What are you thinking about?" you ask, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. Trent blinks, snapping out of his reverie. "Oh, nothing," he replies sheepishly, feeling a flush rise to his cheeks as his smile never leaves his face,allowing his dimple to peek through, "I was just admiring how beautiful you are.". "Oh hush you are soooooo cheesy!,” You laugh, shaking your head, “Thank you for the food baby," you say, leaning to give him a quick kiss. Trent feels his heart swell with love for you as he pecks your lips. As you browse Netflix once more, you lean against his side and put your arm around his. "Let's watch Scary movie 2," you suggest. Trent releases his arm from your grasp and wraps it around you so that your head can rest on his chest as you continue to speak, "It's dumb but it's funny." Trent leans his head against yours as you click on the movie. He kisses the top of your head, "Anything for you, love.” He tells you to wait a second before stepping away from you once more just as you are about to start the movie. He then stands up and walks through the hallway. A short while later, he returns, with a blanket and a bowl of popcorn, saying, "Alright, I'm ready now."

When the movie is over, you decide to just have a "movie day" and keep binge-watching films.

Now halfway through the second movie, you and Trent are cuddled up on the couch wrapped in the cozy blanket he brought prior . The TV's quiet hum and the pelting rain on the windows from the storm that is forecast to last all day were the only sounds coming from the living room. As a result of feeling so calm and at ease in Trent's arms, you start to feel quite exhausted. He watches as you snuggle closer to him,your head resting on his chest, and he feels a wave of tenderness wash over him. He knows school has been stressing you out lately, with exams and assignments piling up, and he wants nothing more than to take care of you. He ran his fingers gently through your hair, soothing you as you closed your eyes and relaxed. Trent feels a deep sense of responsibility towards you. He wants to be there for you, to support you in every way possible, and to make sure you know how much you mean to him. As he looks down at you, he knows that he is willing to do anything to make you happy. He begins to think about all the little things he could do to make you feel better in times like this - make you breakfast in bed tomorrow, send flowers to your university to surprise you, etc. He knew that these small gestures could make a big difference and help you feel loved and supported during this stressful time. He hugs you tightly as you snuggle even closer. He knows that he will always be there for you, no matter what. He vowed to himself the day he asked you out that he will take care of you, to support your dreams, and to be your partner in everything you both do. And as he looks down at your angelic sleeping state, he feels grateful for every moment you two have shared and looks forward to a future filled with love, laughter, and cuddles on the couch.

#trent imagine #trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold fanfic #trent x reader #trent x y/n #liverpool #liverpool imagines #liverpool fanfic #trent x female reader #football fanfic #footballer x reader #female reader #football imagine #soccer imagine #x reader #trent alexander arnold one shot #liverpool fc #trent alexander arnold fluff #trent alexander arnold x y/n

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tlouslut · 11 months

Text

STEADY HANDS

Abby Anderson x fem!medic!reader

!!TLOU2 spoilers as well as spoilers for the future of the show!! Not proofread kinda bad but like it is what it is and it made me sad just sitting in my drafts.

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The days were long and hot in the summer. The warm weather meant for irritated scars and angry soldiers, which for you meant more injuries to treat. You had been a medic on the team for years now, ever since you could sew stitches and disinfect wounds with steady hands.

There were only a few times those hands shook. One was when you met her. Abby Anderson. All charm and strength. Her face had been scraped up pretty bad so when you held her chin to keep her steady she knew your hands were shaky.

“I’m Abby, by the way.” She greeted.

“Hi.” You said shyly before giving her your name. The rest of the interaction went by too quickly for your liking. Abby radiated warmth.

“Okay then, you should be good to go!” You smiled stepping away from her. Abby smiled back at you and you felt your heart stop.

“I’ll make sure to see you next time I get hurt.” Abby joked, you rolled your eyes at her.

“Don’t hurt yourself on purpose just to come by, if you wanna see me again just come find me. I’m usually down here unless a squad needs me.” You winked, a part of your heart delighted in the shade of pink her cheeks turned.

“I just might come find you then.” She fumbled for words making you laugh.

“I’m counting on it, Abby.” You flirted, putting an emphasis on her name and the way it rolled off your tongue.

Sure enough, once you invited her back Abby was almost always in your med bay, if she wasn’t with you she was with her friends. Sometimes they even came with her to visit you.

“Hey you!” Abby’s cheerful voice brightened your corner of the WLF base.

“Hi gorgeous.” You grinned at her. It’s been like this for a few weeks now, you would flirt with her sometimes she would flirt back or just blush and wave you off. You were just waiting for her to ask you to dinner or something. Anything.

“So, we’re going on a patrol soon, one of the lengthier ones around the whole city pretty much. It’s supposed to take a few days.” Abby sighed before throwing herself onto the cot beside your desk. You frowned turning to look at her, putting your scrawled notes you had been reviewing down.

“Who all is going?” You tipped your head to look down at her.

“It’s me, Nora, Manny, Owen, and hopefully you?” Abby winced as she asked. As if you could ever refuse her and her puppy dog eyes.

“Of course I’ll go. It’ll be nice to see you in your field since you’re always in mine.” You teased. Abby’s eyes lit up as she sat up and leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Thank you, don’t worry about being in danger or anything, I-we can keep you safe.” Abby stuttered. Your cheeks were flushed pink as you patted her muscular arm gently.

“I trust you Abs.”

The sun was shining when you all left the WLF base. The springtime warmth seeping into your bones, new growth crunching under your feet. The five of you moved quickly and quietly to the first checkpoint. Clearing a couple of infected on your way, runners wearing the WLF symbol always made your heart sink.

First checkpoint was an old library, always to the top floor and barricaded some way that infected couldn't get to it. This time, the entrance to the floor you needed to go to is a hole in the ceiling. But Abby was more than happy to boost you up. When the sun began to set and food was dished out, Abby set her sleeping bag up next to yours with a soft smile.

"So, what made you want to be a medic?" Owen asked politely as he began to eat.

"When the WLF found me, they needed stitches sewn and infections cured. My mom taught me everything I know, but she's long gone now. It feels like honoring her I suppose." You explained with a small shrug. Abby scooched a little closer to you, sympathy and awe etched into her features.

"My dad was a doctor, he was murdered. He would have loved to meet you and talk all about medical stuff and cures." Abby said wistfully. You placed a hand on her shoulder gently.

"I would have loved to meet him."

Days came and went, turning into weeks, months, before Abby finally had the balls to ask you out. Then months turned into a year, but a year and a half in was when something shifted in the air around Abby.

“I found him.” She had run down to the medic station to find you. “Well I found a lead on him.” She breathed out, you could only blink in confusion.

“Joel. Miller. The man who murdered my Dad. We’re going to go find him.” Abby explained. Your heart sank into your chest as she told you where she found the lead. So far away from the home you had made in Washington.

It took a week for them to get the supplies they needed to leave, a week of arguing with Abby.

“I can’t risk you.” Abby pleaded. Your quiet anger and frustration clear in your eyes. In the tenseness of your shoulders as you soaked in those lovely words.

“I don’t give a fuck. I have to come with you, who is going to keep you safe?” You asked outraged.

“Mel is coming with! She will be our medic. You can’t come. You’re needed here, I need you here.” She breathed, her warm hands cupping your nape, her other hand idling at your hip.

“What about what I need? What about the fact that I need you here? Stay. He doesn’t get to be more important than this, than us.” You begged, tears in your eyes.

“I’m sorry, I love you.” Abby whispered, resting her forehead against yours.

“Come back to me.” You whispered letting Abby kiss away your protests, her mouth wiping away the tension in your body.

When you woke in her bed, wearing her clothes, she was gone.

“She’s back.”

Those two words changed the trajectory of your entire day. You’d been waiting for months to hear those two words. Months of anxiety filled torment, sleepless nights as her scent faded from your bedsheets, and nightmares of what could’ve happened.

Though your relationship with Abby was kept secret to a majority of the WLF, people weren’t blind. They took note of Abby’s smiles and your lingering hands when you patched her up. People loved to whisper about such things. Abby was a defining member of the WLF, someone high ranked and respected, but you were a simple medic with steady hands.

Steady hands that shook when the group approached your medic booth. Tears blurred your vision as you saw her, standing tall and proud in the chilled winter air, your Abby. Steady hands began to shake once Abby was seated before you, ready to be checked over.

“Hi.” She said quietly, her eyes bore into yours as the tears escaped. “Love… say something.” Abby begged. You cupped her face, Abby pulling at your hips to get you in her lap. Once you had your hands around her neck and we’re crying into her neck did you finally say something.

“I missed you so much.” You whispered into her hair. Abby tightened her hands around your waist, and you stayed like that. Ignoring your patients and just holding your Abby. Soon the sun began to set the nighttime cold could be felt and Abby stood, still holding you.

So you let Abby kiss away your whispers of complaints of missing her. Let her lips remove the weight of anxiety you hadn’t realized you had gripped so tightly on to. Letting her hands steady your own.

You had thought you’d be angry when she came home, but the only thing ringing in your head was that she was home. Home in your arms.

#tlou x reader #abby tlou x reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby x fem!reader #abby x you #abby anderson

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