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unholyhelbig · 7 months

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request: single mom reader decides to loan shark from natasha’s mob. when reader can’t pay back the loan, natasha’s men capture and beat her. natasha sees reader among the criminals and drug dealers who also haven’t payed back their loans, and excuses her, forgiving her debt.

Title: The Oversight

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 2799

Warnings: Drug use, kidnapping, guns, choking, threats, blood, horrible grammar.

[a/n: Yeah, I kind of feel like this needs a part two. Let me know what you guys think and if you're interested]

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Each breath you drew in spurred a sharp stitch in your side. They came in rapid succession, even as you struggled to recall the fuzzy details that usually calmed you down. Your first street name. What you called your first pet. The name of your second-grade teacher. They all swirled foggily, unable to recall.

Your mouth tasted metallic cotton and your heartbeat was pulsing through your entire body. Counting the thrums hadn’t helped either, you gave up as you rolled your neck in a snow circle. The dried blood that hardened against the side of your face, your cheek, and down the expanse of your collarbone crackled at the soft movement.

The room that housed you was pitch black. It was hard to tell when you opened your eyes, tears welling up and dripping down your face onto your uniform. Your arms were bound behind your back, shoulders screaming in protest and fingers going numb from the cold. Your small noises echoed. Wherever you were was impossibly vast.

The next breath that escaped you was deeper than the rest. Not necessarily calm, but enough for you to take stock of the situation; there were flashes of you leaving the diner where you worked nothing short of twelves. It had just rained, and the air was humid. You dropped your keys and bent down to pick them up.

Before you could insert them into the lock, something hard had come down on your temple. There was a rush of heat sloshing down your face and a moment later, as you looked up at the sky, the steel tip of a boot took the rest of your consciousness.

That didn’t bother you. You were fine, a little banged up, but fine. Your daughter was left with the sitter. It could have been hours, maybe even a day. Your stomach clenched in hunger, and you drifted in and out of lucidity. They’d left you un-gagged but you didn’t have it in you to scream. You had a sinking feeling that no one would hear you anyway.

You’d flinched when the first 500-volt lamp let out a sharp hiss before flipping on. You shrunk into yourself, blinking away the sudden burst of white light that filled the room. It was directed towards you, and the rest of the space was still a frustratingly thick darkness. You couldn’t see who had turned them on, but they could see you.

The boots that walked across the floor were loud. They echoed like your earlier sobs. A metal chair was being dragged, and the sound was piercing. It did nothing to aide your aching head. You were thankful to see something other than pitch black, however big the danger.

You recognized the man who was in front of you. His outline flickered solidly. He looked rougher than you did; dirty-blonde hair, and stubble. There was a bandage across the center of his nose, on his fingertips, as if he’d fisted the razor while shaving. His purple T-shirt was covered by a dusty-brown leather jacket. His stare was hard, emotionless.

“You’re awfully quiet for a hostage.” He said, straddling the chair he had dragged over. His chest rested against the metal backing. “You can scream if you want. Wear yourself down. It’ll make this a lot easier.”

“What is this?” You asked instead of taking him up on his offer.

He was familiar to you. Clint. He came into the diner every Wednesday and Friday night like clockwork. He’d order a roast beef on rye with Swiss cheese and extra dressing on the side. He’d suck down two beers with his meal and tipped generously.

Sometimes he was with the man they called ‘The Winter Soldier’. You’d always found the name laughable, but the rumors about him were enough for you to hold your tongue. He never ate but would sometimes order a diet coke and sip it while Clint spoke through large bites of food.

Law enforcement wouldn’t’ touch Bucky Barnes, and your boss would typically comp whatever he ordered. A few months ago, you had shared your first words with him behind the diner. The air stunk of rotted food and hardly counted as fresh air. However, it was a few degrees cooler than the kitchen.

He had offered you a cigarette, one already perched between his lips, a zippo lighter at the ready in his other hand. You declined with the shake of your head, and a quiet ‘no thank you’. There was an uncomfortable silence, but it was better than the damp warmth of the kitchen. A sweet, burning scent filled your nose when he lit his cigarette and let the smoke curl around the two of you like a slack rope.

“You work hard in there.” Bucky said, taking a long inhale. He held it within his lungs, voice pinched. “Harder than anyone else I’ve seen in a while.”

You weren’t about to tell him about your daughter, not with his reputation, or the small smattering of pink scars across his chiseled features. So, you nodded instead. The number of tips you got in the broken down, greasy diner was the difference between two meals and one. So, you smiled sweetly and laid on the southern accent even though you’d only spent a short stint in Georgia when you were eighteen. It was easy to perfect.

“I bet you could name my order right now.”

“You don’t order.”

“I don’t trust the food.” He shrugged listlessly, a lazy smile against his lips. You couldn’t help but smile back.

“That’s a good call.”

He laughed at your honesty, and it was a nice sound. He disarmed you and that was worrying. Bucky let the cigarette sizzle out in a puddle at his feet. He used the tip of his steel-toed boot to grind the paper into damp ash.

“You wouldn’t’ have to work so hard if you had some extra cash, would you?”

The question caught you off guard and you couldn’t stifle the vicious glare that you gave him. Your break was almost over, and you could have, should have, walked back into the restaurant to finish the rest of your shift. Bucky lifted his hands up as a peace offering.

“Look, lady, I didn’t mean to offend you or anything. All I’m saying is, you’re not blind to what happens in there, the type of people that frequent this place. You’ve always turned a blind eye and that’s something my boss appreciates. Something she trusts.”

“And who exactly is your boss?”

He tsked “I can’t tell you that, sweetheart. But she wants to make you an offer, she wants to offer you a loan. You’re what? Three months behind on rent? She’ll front that for you and the following two.”

You took a deep breath of stale air. It was a tempting offer, even if it came in the form of a seedy enforcer in an even seedier alleyway. You were three days from getting evicted. Three days from ending up on the streets in a neighborhood that didn’t’ have a single safe one.

“What’s the catch?” You asked.

“Catch? There’s no catch. This is a friendly loan. All you’ve gotta do is pay it back when you’re on your feet again.”

It was an oversight, not asking for a concrete timeline. You hadn’t paid Bucky’s boss back yet, and over the next few months, there were stifled threats, and both Bucky and Clint watched you carefully at the job that you still worked like nothing had changed. The feeling of being indebted lingered, but this time, it was to an unknown entity instead of a landlord that was ultimately harmless.

Everything needed to be paid back in full. These were thousands you didn’t have. And now, two weeks after the initial threat, you were strapped to a metal chair with blood dripping down the sound of your face, in despite need of a drink of water.

Clint was harmless compared to The Winter Soldier, but his muscles still flexed under his shirt as he pulled his jacket off and let it fall to the dusty floor illuminated in blue light. “I would prefer not to get that dirty. It’s genuine leather, you know?”

You glowered at him as he stood and took a few more steps towards you. He looked relatively harmless each time you’d seen him in the diner. Sometimes he had a girl with him, a slight thing that was just as littered in scars as he was. She would order a plate of bacon that was cooked to a crisp and split it with a golden retriever that laid at their feet.

When his wrapped knuckles made contact with your cheek, your head clocked in the opposite direction. There was a sharp pain in your jaw, a ringing in your ear. He had slammed into the same side of your face as earlier, and you lost vision for a second.

Blood filled your mouth, and you spit the mix of saliva, bile, and blood onto the floor. There was a drain in the center and that worried you more than anything else. Your breathing came fast and hard and you glared at him, teeth stained pink.

“Is that all?” You asked him.

It was stupid, you knew it was stupid. But it bothered you more than anything that you had gotten yourself wrapped up in this. Your father was no stranger to the mob, and you should have seen it from a mile away. The fear he lived with. Until the day he died, he would look over his shoulder and you refused to do the same.

Clint grabbed your face, squeezing hard enough to bring tears to your eyes. “You’re a tough chick, huh? I think we both know why you’re here. All you have to do is get the money and all of this vanishes.”

“I don’t have the money.” Your words were garbled between his fingers. “You’re sure as fuck not going to get it if you kill me.”

“Kill you?” Clint unhanded you and let out a laugh. “Kill you, she says. No, we’re not going to kill you, she would never get her money that way… your daughter on the other hand.”

You pulled against the ropes, and they dug painfully into you. The chair was liable to break, but it had been bolted to the floor. It was much stronger than the one he’d dragged over. The mix of anger and fear that had rushed over you pulled away any thought of lingering aches and pains. Be damned to the head trauma.

Your teeth were gritted, voice a low hiss “Leave her the fuck out of this.”

“Did I strike a nerve?”

“I swear to you, I will get your money, I just need time. I’m not… You can keep me under surveillance as collateral, take my car, my apartment- just leave her out of this.”

Clint gripped your throat with his calloused hand, your ability to breathe became more difficult, half-moon nails digging into your flesh. It stung fiercely, and you let out a gurgle in response. “Or she could be our collateral. I think she’d make a great enforcer, with the proper education, that is.”

Is that what happened to the girl that ate lunch with Clint at the diner? She didn’t looked like she was there against her will, but there was an immense sadness to her eyes. Clint hadn’t released you yet and your vison was growing fuzzy at the edges.

“Let her go,”

Your chest was burning at this point and when he pulled his hand back you tried desperately to regain your sense of lucidity. You coughed, nearly vomiting as he took a long stride backwards, seemingly put into his place with a simple sentence.

Over the ringing of your ears, you heard the sharp click of heels. They were confident, and your chin dropped to your chest as you panted in succession, spit dripping in strings from your lips. You didn’t have the strength to look up, your head was pounding.

“I think that’s enough,” Her voice was smooth, just the smallest bit of an accent in her words. You couldn’t place it, but you couldn’t tell which way was up at this point. “You’re dismissed.”

“Oh, come on Natasha, I was just having a little fun.”

“Dismissed, Clint.”

There was a labored sigh and the sound of his footsteps retreating. It brought little relief to you, however. You felt as if you had traded one evil for another. Eventually, you lifted your head to stare at the ceiling. The stranger hadn’t said anything, and the pitch dark above was more desirable to the unknown.

You heard her sit down and felt her eyes watching you. The swimming in your head started to dissipate so you clocked her with a stare. The woman in front of you was angelic, in such a way that you figured Clint’s choking stunt had actually done you in.

Her stare was an unripe green rimmed in gold, her cheekbones carved from marble. There was a beautiful softness to her expression, and her deep red hair flowed over her shoulders in a waterfall of color. She was studying you, not phased by the cold of the room.

The woman wore a black t-shirt, deep slashes of ink peaking from the dip of the V-neck. You didn’t’ let your eyes linger long. It was a marking that you’d seen on Clints bicep and on Buckey’s hand. You hadn’t gotten a chance to clock it on the girl that was kept in their company.

“Is this the part where you come in with your good cop schtick?” You mumbled.

“Darling, Clint is the good cop.”

“Nice, I like it.” You rolled your shoulders back, fighting the stiffness “Bad cop and worse cop is much more effective.”

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you for someone in your position. Thousands of dollars in debt and seemingly no way to pay back my money. It’s not a good spot to be in, Y/n.”

Natasha stood from the chair, her muscles straining at the action. In a fluid motion, she pulled a black standard issue handgun from the space between her skin and her jeans. She pumped the shaft, the sound echoed more than your quickened breathing.

She used the tip to push your chin up, forcing you to look into her unblinking eyes. You were a dead man, you knew that from her cold stare. You couldn’t look away, even if the option was given.

“Baby, I’ve been in this business for a long time.” Her breath was hot on your collarbone, a mix of mint and tobacco. “I know exactly the type that you are. I cater to your kind. More often than not, my clientele need a little bit of encouragement.”

The tip of her gun traced your jaw, her finger loosely on the trigger. It was cold against your collarbone, down the center of your breasts. She held it there, jaw set in stone.

“We’ll keep you here for a few days. Once you dry out a little, I’m sure you’ll suddenly come into the cash.”

“Dry out? You think I’m on drugs?”

The tip pushed hard enough into your sternum to make you let out a grunt of pain. “You hide it quite well, pet. I’m sure it won’t be as simple when you start to feel those withdraw symptoms. Money flows simple in this town when those cravings kick in.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her, despite the weapon that she was packing. A frown creased between her eyebrows, but she held it in place. “The hardest thing I’ve ever hit is a blunt in a high school rotation. That was your brilliant plan? Dry me out and then what? Search my backyard for jars filled with money. I don’t have it. I make 2.50 an hour at a diner.”

Natasha scrutinized you, eyes hard. She righted herself and pulled the gun away from your center before flipping on the safety and shoving it back into her jeans. She started to pace the length of the light.

“Bucky, he offered me a loan and I took it so I could pay the rent on an apartment for me and my daughter.” You said, voice quiet “I work thirteen hour shifts six days a week, and it’s still not enough. I’m not… I don’t know who you cater to, but I have a feeling it’s not someone like me.”

“No.” she crossed her arms over her chest, “It seems as if you’re an oversight.”

“Great,” you flexed your numbing fingers, “An oversight you’ll let go?”

Natasha shook her head, clenching and unclenching her jaw. “No, I’m afraid not.”

#Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha Romanoff x you #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Mafia Boss Natasha Romanoff #Marvel #Marvel Fanfiction #Clint Barton #Kate Bishop #Bucky Barnes #Mafia au #request

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nataliesscatorccio · 9 months

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Dead cabin guy and his technicolor dreamcoat have haunted me since the wardrobe reveal in season two, and today im going to make it everyone's problem.

Travis wears the coat first. He and Natalie take the blessing and go out to look for Javi. Travis hallucinates (prophesies?) that Javi is dead and buried beneath the snow, but Natalie shows him it's only a fox. Travis finds the strange, mossy tree stump. The next day Travis has strong feelings about which direction is best to search for Javi in, and we don't see more of him until Nat reveals the bloody pants. Not that weird, all things considered. New season, new wardrobe additions. Hiking on a caloric deficit with PTSD, you'll probably hallucinate. Pretty standard stuff.

Then Nat wears the coat. She takes it to lay Jackie's bones to rest at the crash site, and while she wears it she sees (hallucinates? prophesies? I'm not sure!) the white moose that they'll later lose to the lake (ergo the hunt, ergo Javi dies for real but more on that later).

We get to Old Wounds, the hunting competition, and Lottie wears the coat now. You see where I'm going with this but just to be thorough: she enters the realm of death dreams, talks with Laura Lee, almost freezes to death.

Episode five. Melissa wears the coat. Maybe that's not important! Maybe it's just to show that they all share the wardrobe, and that the side characters are as equally All In This Together as the main characters are. Or it could mean something that a peripheral character, wearing important wardrobe, framed in antlers (not unlike Travis in 2.01), has the line "maybe he did die, and that's his ghost." It's a little suspicious, and at this point starts to feel like a pattern.

Who wears it next, who wore it best!? That's right baby, it's Paul! For his dreamworld drifter, hallucination hunk Coach Ben Scott. Nicholas Urfe himself. Ben spends almost all of his time in a dream, until *drumroll please* Paul, very pointedly, takes the coat and walks out the door. "Where do you think you are, Ben?" he puts the coat on. "You had to have known you couldn't stay here forever. [...] What matters now is that you aren't welcome here anymore." Following Paul means committing to death (to dream), and until interruption that's the choice Ben makes. Because letting Paul (and the coat) go would mean committing entirely to reality.

Of course, the pièce de résistance is something I didn't even notice until I went looking for it. The first dozen times I watched, I thought that after Lottie's beating Shauna brought her a blanket. "Lottie's cold." But she doesn't. She brings her the coat. Lottie is laying with it when, in a fever dream, she witnesses/hallucinates/prophesies parts of the hunt.

It's there again (on the back of the chair) when she sits by the fire and speaks for the wilderness, appointing Nat their queen. Ben watches, having woken from the dream himself, as they all bow to Natalie and leave reality behind for good.

Of course, there are a lot of times when characters hallucinate strange things in the cabin while not wearing the coat, because they're all starving to death and traumatized. Mari. Shauna. Akilah. But in addition to that, it seems like a pattern worth noting that in each instance where a character wears the technicolor coat, the line between the real and the imagined seems to blur with more ease. Does dead cabin guy's technicolor dreamcoat help the Yellowjackets connect to the dream realm?

I'll be brief here with the biblical parallel: blah blah Joseph is the favorite son (you were always its favorite), his father gives him a technicolor coat (they're nothing special, they don't change color in the cold or anything). blah blah Joseph starts having prophetic dreams etc etc his jealous brothers throw Joseph down a pit (the wilderness chose) and bring his bloodstained coat back as false proof of his death (hanging on a branch. a couple miles back). You get my drift.

Does it mean anything? Who knows. But in a series where wardrobe is such an integral part of the storytelling, it felt worth paying attention to.

#yellowjackets #long post #travis martinez #lottie matthews #natalie scatorccio #melissa yellowjackets #paul yellowjackets #yellowjackets meta #javi martinez #shauna shipman #ben scott #akilah yellowjackets #mari yellowjackets

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https-furina · 10 months

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heres my apology for the trauma:

(i forgot who i asked for in the previoys ask) kazuha, xiao, heizou, aether, albedo and wanderer with fluff ideas

(im giving you the power to make the scenario wtv you want bc i traumatized u the most lmao)

✎ our time together. ft. albedo, aether, heizou, kazuha, wanderer, xiao & kaeya x fem!reader content: pure fluff, so much comfort after that angst you could suffocate, sickeningly sweet stuff. mentions of injuries in xiao’s part.

detective's notes. this is aly's attempt at therapy following that angst req - i did everyone who was in the original request that you can find here. i apologise in advance for xiao and kaeya, i think they’re ooc. not proofread.

albedo often has you admiring the sights of dragonspine with him whenever you take the time to visit him at the summit. on bright, sunny days, depending on the direction you face, you can gaze upon mondstadt, liyue or the ocean. it amazed you, to be surrounded by so many fantastic sights. and not only around dragonspine but the mountain itself hosts the most beautiful scenery. scenes of white snow, pure and blanketing the ground around your boyfriend's camp - it's innocent, wholesome. the snowflakes dance together with each other.

albedo loves to watch you admiring what is so common for him, snow drifting down almost every other day.

"love, it's snow," albedo chimes from where he's jotting down notes from a research experiment he'd conducted earlier in the day. you're sat by the campfire, eyes glazed over as you watch the snowflakes, "the city really doesn't get snow this much?" "the city doesn't get snow, bedo," you comment back, quick on your words and clouds of hot breath coming from your lips as you spoke, "the sentence should have ended there." your wit makes him chuckle under his breath, his gaze falling back to the cursive scribble in his notebook. every time you visited him it was almost like he got to witness your child-like state over and over again, never-ending and yet he cherished every moment of it. he cherished the way that a smile would slowly break out on your face no matter what you was doing when that very first snowflake lands on your sleeve. unfortunately, albedo often keeps you in the safety that is his camp, situated in an alcove not far from the summit of the mountain. it's sheltered and it encompasses the warmth from his fire perfectly. he's never had any qualms with it but he can see how your fingers itch, longing to touch at the cold that settles on the ground only to melt moments later when the sun glimpses from behind grey clouds. he basks in your innocent behaviour and how it glows in the campfire's orange light. with a gentle noise, the blond finds himself raising from his chair, joints stiff - it's only now he realises how long he'd been seated, writing about his experiments while you sat and watched the snow. "you want to go out in it, right?" he asks quietly as he wanders to your side, a cotton scarf in his hands as he wraps it around your neck, "we can't have you getting sick, i can only cook so much goulash." his voice is light, teasing but you're focused on his insinuations that you can in fact go out into the snow that you've been meticulously watching for hours now. he watches the realisation wash over your face, your eyes glittering as you stare at him - it's almost as if you're asking for permission. albedo chuckles, a cloud of breath falling from his lips as he does so before he nods. you've left the warmth of the camp before albedo can even process you getting up from your spot, spinning in circles as you let the snowflakes cover the fabric of your clothing. a faint smile appears on albedo's face, watching your excitement as you giggle in the snow made him fall in love with you even more than before.

aether absolutely loves travelling with you at his side. you're the light of his life, always finding the positives in the stickiest of situations where even he debates whether it's a dead end. this applies to his search for his twin sister, you're convinced he'll find her and you are quick to reassure him that you'll be there every step of the way! but adventuring is tiring and your feet are sore. aether treats you like a princess despite getting pushed around by civilians and archons alike wherever he goes.

it comes as no surprise when he is the one who proposes a campfire for the night, cooped up together on a woven blanket you insisted on bringing with you.

"aether," you mumble your boyfriend's name softly as you curl into his side, attempting to count the stars - it's futile but you tried anyways, "what do you think most of these people would do if they knew their archons were among them?" "mondstadt would think it's a harsh prank," he comments from where he's cooking food. there's a strong aroma of mint, chicken, radish with perhaps hints of calla lilies and fish, "imagine diluc's face if he knew it was venti." a laugh comes from you, looking over at the blond with a hint of admiration. he's deep in concentration with his cooking despite them being dishes he's made hundreds of times before - he's sure got the proficiency down at least. he glances at you and his sharp eyes soften. he loves your laugh, he finds it more musical than anything venti could play on the holy lyre or even anything that yun jin performs. to aether, your laugh is explosive and beautiful like yoimiya's fireworks and it's more illustrious than any aranara tale that sumeru could conjure up. you were his partner, a beacon of light and hope as you travel wherever he goes. sometimes he'll joke that you're his shadow, watching his back just as much as he has yours. a smile breaks out on his face suddenly. "what's that look for?" you pout, puffing your cheeks as aether shakes his head, turning back to the campfire. his calloused hands work meticulously on chicken and mushroom skewers and radish soups like their recipes are engraved into his memory. "am i not allowed to look at my girlfriend?" his question flushes your cheeks with warmth that crawls up your neck and makes butterflies crazy in your stomach. clearing your throat, you look away with a dramatic huff, no longer attempting to push aether for his prior facial expressions. aether makes a noise of amusement, holding out a skewer to you, "it's hot, don't burn your tongue." his words echo in your head, ones that would seem patronising to anyone else but to you, they meant the world. you knew that aether would fret over the smallest injuries - just like he did when you managed to get a papercut from a book you borrowed from xingqiu. he merely cared more than you could ever ask for in exchange for the positive aura you carry with you that keeps him sane.

heizou can disappear from days, perhaps even weeks at a time. he remains a hazard to anyone he comes across who aren't aware of his apparent disappearances when he gets a lead on a particularly pressing case. when he is around however, even if his head is buried in case files, he's by your side. he craves whatever touch he can get from you, always somehow finding a way to be touching you. it only gets worse after his peculiar disappearances.

it's no wonder that the next day after he suddenly turns up at your shared house again, a wide grin on his face that he's keeping his hand lingering on your skin.

"could it be premeditated? surely not," the detective mumbles, his face hidden in documents that you're sure his grip is crumpling, "but the change of clothes suggests otherwise - unless it's a case of panic..." "do you speak out loud at the station too?" you muse, one of your hands holding a novel from mondstadt whilst your other hand is playing with heizou's fingers, his hand on your thigh. heizou makes a soft noise, chuckling as he raises his head from the papers finally. "on the odd chance that i'm there? sometimes." he admits, grinning mischievously and you roll your eyes with a light scoff. his attitude to his work attendance was unbelievable sometimes, even more so than his ability to crack cases like they're precious geodes with goods inside of them. you click your tongue playfully, shaking your head as heizou raises the hand you're using to play with his idly, pressing his lips to your knuckles with a chuckle. you try to send him a pointed look, hoping to insinuate that his attitude wasn't acceptable but verdant eyes are looking at you with a teasing sparkle and you sigh, accepting that he was enjoying winding you up over the situation. "how old is that case anyways?" you ask curiously, tilting your head as you glance at your boyfriend. heizou lowers the documents, a drastic sigh escaping his lips. "only a few days but it happened within the tenryou commission," heizou explains, rubbing his temple with his spare hand, "madam kujou sara has the whole station working on it." you gently squeeze the hand heizou is holding, giving him a reassuring smile when he turns his gaze back to you. you knew the case would start eating him alive if he let it, to the point where he'd be mumbling theories even in his sleep. "don't overwork yourself, please." you sigh. it's soft and light, your hot breath fanning over heizou's skin when he moves his hand from yours to your cheek. where would he be without the rational mind of his own girlfriend to keep him in check?

kazuha loves being at sea with the crew of the alcor. captain beidou has been at his side numerous times and helped in his times of need but there is one more thing that kazuha loves more than the salty air of the ocean and that is you. he's known to skip the occasional adventure at sea to stay by your side a little longer, especially around both your birthday and his.

it turns out that when he does return from sea, all he ever wants is a homemade meal and the loving embrace of his partner.

"kazu-" you blink as you stare at the mound in the bedsheets, curled up nice and warm like a kitten - he hums, "was you sleeping?" the silky silver hair of your boyfriend peeks from the top of the sheets, his eyelashes half open as he lets out a small yawn, looking at where you stand at the bedroom door. he sends you a small smile, nodding. "just a nap, my love - what's wrong?" he rests his head back down on the pillows, arms moving to lay above the sheets so that you may see him better. the action makes you smile, leaning on the door frame as you admire him in such a relaxed moment, his voice mildly deep as he wakes up. "i was coming to ask if you wanted dinner," you admit sheepishly, eyes trailing over how his messy hair frames his face when he has it down, specific strands of red hanging above his eyes and catching in his long eyelashes, "are you hungry?" "maybe - can i ask for a hug before you go?" who are you to deny such a request from your boyfriend? you catch the way kazuha grins when you approach the bed, his arms tightly wrapping around your waist and pulling you down to him. you yelp, caught unaware as you fall on top of his body. there's however a few moments of silence as you sink into a calm state of mind, pressing the skin of your cheek to his bare chest when kazuha nuzzles his nose into your hair, exhaling softly. there's a solace that you only get when you're in his company and he can say likewise to you too, when he breathes in your scent and drinks it in like a wine. "i missed you," he comments quietly against your hair, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. a smile cracks onto your face, your eyelashes fluttering shut at his words. you had missed him too undoubtedly when he's been away for so long.

wanderer has had his hands full ever since lesser lord kusanali thrust him into studying at the akademiya - against his will, nonetheless and if someone cared enough to listen to his complaints, they'd hear his whines about the 'awful' work load they give students. it would take a few hours of listening to his sharp wit and grumbles to understand that he despises his academic studies this much because it limits his time with you - the girlfriend he says he "can't get rid of" because you "won't leave his side."

he has lesser lord kusanali promise that she won't rat him out whenever he turns up to the sanctuary of surasthana asking what girls like for gifts, giggles coming from the small archon.

"what the hell does this mean?" he mutters to himself, pads of his fingers pressed to his temple as his eyes scan over the text again. it's not going in, it simply just isn't. he's reread the paragraph ten times now and even though it's definitely in a language he understands and even more so a topic that he's already studied, it's not sticking the way academic materials are supposed to. he groans, eyelashes fluttering shut in frustration. he swears he's a changed man but the patience he has wears thin when it comes to studying. the house of daena is a considerably quiet place for a public library. there's the occasional bustle of students, their arms full of leatherbound tomes as they gossip amongst themselves - whether it is research related or not escapes the man from where he sits. he knows why he's so distraught and unable to focus but celestia forbid if he ever vocally admits it - it's been a few days since he could even see your face. he'd got himself tangled up in preparing for this exam to the point where he'd barely left the house of daena. that would be another thing he is not keen to admit aloud, his determination to receive praise from lesser lord kusanali regarding his efforts. "i knew i'd find you here," that voice... it's so familiar but why? his eyes open, his gaze sharp at whoever dared to disturb him when he was clearly so perturbed by his studies but they fall onto your form, a bag in your hands that smells like fresh pastries, "i passed kaveh on the way here and he voiced that you hadn't eaten lunch, love - so i stopped at puspa cafe." he clicks his tongue, a soft scoff coming his lips as you approach closer to the desk he was seated at, numerous books scattered wide open on differing pages. for someone who uttered nothing but complaints of his position in the vahumana darshan, he took his studies awfully serious. more so, you didn't miss the way his eyes rolled at the mention of the blond kshahrewar alumni who was always too expressive for his own good. "you didn't have to." he mumbles, a little reluctant to thank you but you knew what he meant when a smile crosses your face, placing the brown paper bag onto the desk beside his books. wanderer glances down your body before his arm wraps around your waist, tugging you onto his lap. "h-hey!" you squeak, eyes wide in surprise. he quirks a brow, amused before he rests his chin on your shoulder, returning back to the studying he'd previously struggled with. coincidentally, suddenly the words made sense and weren't so hazy in his mind. "just stay still." he sighs, a hand placed on the small of your back while the other one flips the yellowed pages in front of him. you have no choice but to slump your shoulders, hands idly playing in his hair - a rare opportunity considering he is usually wearing his hat - as your boyfriend continues to study.

xiao promised that auspicious blonde traveler that he'd be at their beck and call if only they said his name. you had no qualms with this, it was a scenario he also had applied to your relationship. at first he hadn't, being too scared of genuinely giving you love and affection to begin with but when he'd warmed, xiao promised to protect you with his life. you do however scold him when he returns back to his room at wangshu inn, some minor scrapes and injuries dotting his pale skin.

he would flinch at the slightest of your touches but there was always some sort of warm feeling resonating deep in his chest when his eyes glaze over how concerned you are in his stead.

there's a sharp wince that leaves his mouth through gritted teeth when you wipe the cut on his cheek. a frown adorns your face and xiao feels a stab of pity that you were once again nursing his wounds like a disappointed mother. he was starting to seriously debate if there was anything he wouldn't feel extreme guilt over when it came to you, you truly were too good for him in his eyes. "what are you thinking about?" you ask quietly, watching his brows knit together in a slight confusion, "your eyes always look so pitiful when i do this, love." xiao makes a soft noise in return, golden eyes flickering away to avoid eye contact. he'll look anywhere but you, not keen on how well you read him like a book even during his worst moments. even when it works against him, he treasures that you know him well. he's never been explicitly good at communicating - he might as well start writing his feelings on parchment - and your coincidental skill of just being able to read him fit that perfectly. "you care so much despite-" you click your tongue, a little irritated as your eyes turn sharp on your boyfriend. xiao sighs, tilting his head away when he feels you wipe the damp cloth across his cheek again. "someone has to care for you when you're off gallivanting being the hero in everyone else's story." your words tumble out without second thought. he's always at the ready when it comes to that blonde traveler's life or even yours and yet, nobody is at the ready for his own life. he knew that you was always going to be the one that cared and protected him when he didn't do it for himself. you were his home to come back to, the warmth of a fireplace and the golden glow of an oil lamp in the corner. you were the one who attended to his every scratch and cut, the one who placed kisses on his bruises and claimed your kiss was 'magic.' a small crack of a smile appears on xiao's face, his head nodding as he leans to press a delicate kiss to your lips.

kaeya may have his bad habits of occasionally slacking his work sometimes on the premise that he gets to spend time with you however when he does bury his head into the paperwork and commissions - only after you nag him - it becomes a challenge to get time together. if you even remotely complain, kaeya will cheekily shove back in your face that it was you who nagged him to get his work done.

he makes up for the time he loses with you while he's away at work, whether it be candlelit dinners over a bottle of red wine or picnics in the mondstadt summer sun, he's sure to cherish every moment he gets.

"that one looks like a bird." you comment, index finger pointing at a cloud as it floats past, light and fluffy in appearance against the blue backdrop of the sky. kaeya grins, shaking his head. "how in teyvat did you get a bird from that?" he asks curiously, glancing over at you with an eye so blue it challenges the tides of teyvat's oceans. you pout at the thought that kaeya hadn't seen the same outline of the cloud that you had, puffing your cheeks. "well... there's a wing and if you look over there that's a beak..." you're explaining it so vividly, hands waving around as a form of expressing yourself but kaeya isn't looking at the clouds. he's drinking in the sparkle in your eyes, the smile that widens on your face when you spot another cloud - this time you're certain it's a fish! kaeya lets out the occasional hum of encouragement, giving off the impression that he is most certainly listening to you but all it takes is one glance in his direction and you can see the half dazed look in his eye, swirling with distant dreams; ones where you have a family, a glittering ring on your finger and perhaps even a house in the city. "are you even listening to me?" you huff, a heat flushing up your neck and to your cheeks when your boyfriend doesn't pull that lovedrunk gaze away from you. a chuckle leaves soft lips, one of his gloved hands lacing with yours. "uh-huh, yeah, something about beaks and wings..." kaeya finds it adorable when you roll your eyes, looking away in a flustered state as he props himself on his elbows, leaning closer to you, "the clouds are pretty but you are much prettier." "kaeya i swear to-" he cuts you off, tutting with a cheeky grin. "swear to who? barbatos?" he hums, pressing a kiss to your head when you roll into his chest, hoping he'll give it a rest if you just comply and wrap around his finger, like you always do. and unsurprisingly, he does give in. he hooks an arm around your shoulders, keeping you close as his gaze finally turns up the faint hue of orange that the sky is fading into, the clouds dusted rosy pinks when the sun begins to set. he knows that soon the two of you will have to walk back down the cliff, back to mondstadt where you'll share a night curled up in bed for the first time in days before kaeya is back to work the next morning. in retaliation of these thoughts, the tips of his fingers press into the flesh of your upper arm more than usual and his brows knit together in a way he hopes you don't notice. but your eyes are closed, your face falling peaceful when you've drifted asleep to the rhythm of your boyfriend's heartbeat.

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ooffmlsorry · 6 months

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Baby, It's Cold Outside

A/N: I swear I'm gonna work on my prompt posts after this but it was unexpectedly cold today and I was not ready 😭

Your feet crunched loudly underneath you. The snow comes up to your shines, forcing you to take high trudging steps. The wind is throwing snowflakes into your face, and your tears live short liquid lives before turning to ice on your cheeks.

So far, your first experience with snow is...hell on earth.

If hell froze over, that is.

The rest of the crew were completely comfortable in the weather, but what could you expect? The navigator was a polar bear after all. Someone had said something about part of the crew being from the frigid North Blue, which was suddenly beginning to make sense.

"There's gotta be something wrong with him," you muttered into the scarf wrap around the lower half of your face. It was swampy and damp against your skin, collecting snot and condensation from your breath. Disgusting. But at least it kept your lips and nose from going numb.

The plan was to rendezvous with the rest of the crew on the other side of the island. Bepo was leading the others across, and as the next best thing to a navigator, you were to guide and stay with Law to wait for them at this shabby excuse for a cabin.

You surveyed the white wasteland outside the window. A sheet of startling blue sky loomed overhead. Speaking of Law, you turned to look at your captain just slightly behind you. You couldn't read anything on his expression, but the fact that he didn't look nearly as miserable as you told you enough.

The shack you waited in had nothing except four walls and a fireplace--trees for firewood not included.

"How do you stand this?!" You say. "I'm so cooold!" The end of your whining turns into fake sob.

"Keep your eyes ahead, y/n-ya," Law says. The slight upward pull of his lips turns the neutral resting bitch face he normally has into an amused smirk.

You exaggerate your pout, "that's all I get?! This is my first time in the snow and it's awful! I'm freezing!"

Law chuckles. "It's not my fault you were raised on a tropical island."

Law only wears his hat, a coat--the same one you remember him wearing on Punk Hazard--and a pair of gloves. He's practically naked compared to your hat, gloves, scarf, dense coat, and wool snow pants.

You sigh loudly, your shoulders slump miserably in front of you. Law watches you with a twinkle in his eyes that causes warmth to bloom across your face.

The look in his eyes belays a fondness he normally hides.

He's enjoying this.

"How long do you think it will take the others to get here?" He asks you.

Business as usual, then. You walk back over to the shack's window to observe the sky.

"There's still no sign of clouds. In fact, snow blindness might be an issue for the rest of the crew. They're walking on a plateau, far away from any slopes so they won't have to work against any winds. I'd say three hours? Maybe a little less since some of you are cold weather natives." A draft blows cold winds through the cabin, making you shudder all the way down to your toes. "I can't wait until we literally blow this popsicle stand."

Law wraps his arms around you from behind. His front flush to your back and his chin resting on the top of your head.

"Oh?"

You lean in to him and stuff his hands into your front pockets so you can hold them. Gloved fingers intertwine. You have just enough room to lovingly stroke your thumb across the back of Law's hand. A wordless thank you.

"I won't listen to you complain about how cold it is for that long." Law's voice rumbles from. "I'll warm you up."

You watch the snow drift and dance in the wind through icy windows. You never knew the ice crystals people spoke of were truly crystals, until you saw them on the window. The last time you saw the sky this blue was back on your home island. Cloudless and comfortingly blue.

"It's actually kind of pretty," you say quietly.

"It can be," Law responds. He surprises you further by pressing a kiss to your temple. "You were too busy freezing your ass off to notice."

#one piece x you #one piece #trafalgar law #law x reader #one piece x reader

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0oolookitsme · 6 months

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But Baby, It's Cold Outside

Type - One-Shoty Blurb!

Verse - Singer!Harry x Ceo!Y/n

Word Count - 1.2k

Warnings - None, just some tooth rotting fluff ;)

A/N - Y/n blushes so hard in this one I was legit smiling while writing the ending lmao. Hope you guys like it just as much! <3

MASTERLIST | Please rb to share!

Y/n was on her knees on the carpeted floor, her hands stacking things up on the Christmas mantel that she had been set on decorating since she'd opened her eyes this morning. Her knees hurt because of the hardwood floor, but it was better than having to bend down while standing up, nevertheless.

They were surprisingly late to decorate for Christmas this year because of their prolonged stay over at Anne's for a while. After all, Anne wanted the see her daughter-in-law who was pregnant with her grandson or granddaughter -- and Y/n was starting to feel more and more deprived of a mother's love by each day, making Harry take her to Anne.

She had put Harry to work currently with fluffing up the Christmas tree's leaves, and to decorate it with the string lights they'd bought just the day before. He was crouching just about beside her, facing her with the tall tree standing between them.

"I swear, this tree has got me working the hardest I ever have," Harry joked, wiping the sheen layer of sweat on his face. He chuckled when Y/n shook her head, laughing at him and not at his joke -- but he didn't need to know that. "So dramatic," he heard her murmur under her breath, knowing that she meant for him to hear it.

"I'm the one who's dramatic?" He questioned her with a touch of accusation to it. "You're the one who's been up my arse this whole month with 'let's do this, let's do that'!" Mimicking her, Harry smacked his hand on the tree and hissed in pain when a thorn pricked his finger.

A smirk appeared on Y/n's face as she continued to mess with the order of stuff she'd stacked up on the mantel. Shrugging, she said, "that's what you get for teasing me."

Herry scoffed instead of saying anything and went back to fluffing up the tallest bit of the tree. His armpits were moist with his sweat but he wouldn't even dare to think about putting out the crackling-fire in the fireplace. He might be a naturally warm body, but Y/n definitely wasn't.

Whether it was summer, or winter -- her body was never found to be hot. Hell, even when she took off her fuzzy socks last night her feet were freezing cold. And, with the baby growing in her body, Harry wouldn't even let Y/n remove the thin blanket he had wrapped around her frame when he woke up at the first ray of sunshine and realized that it had started snowing.

"H? Will you please bring me those mini-Christmas trees?" Y/n asked him, turning to give him some puppy-eyes but caught him watching the snowflakes on the windowpane instead. Tilting her head and joining him in looking outside, her lips stretched in a smile.

The snow fell soundlessly, drifting down like white and fluffy cold crystals. It brought an essence of magic in the world, falling softly into blankets that cover the landscape.

"...'course," she heard him mumble, and turned just in time to catch the smile he passed her with a glint in his eyes that she'd come to recognize as admiration. Though she wasn't sure if what he was admiring then was the snow, her, or the 7-month baby bump.

In the time that Harry went to pick up the set of trees from the kitchen island, Y/n dropped the blanket from her shoulders, feeling too hot suddenly. The room had grown too warm for her current liking, and as she sat down cross-legged on the floor to give her knees some rest, she wished for Harry to be back by her side.

She slipped back on her bottom until her aching back hit the leg of the sofa and rested there. Patting the spot next to her, she invited Harry to sit beside her and whined internally when he passed her a knowing look and brought back the blanket with him. "Open the window if you're going to make me wear that blanket again," she told him pointedly, passing him a smile to tell him she didn't mean that behaviour seriously.

"But baby," Harry looked at her with a desperate look on his face. "It's cold outside!" he told her, wanting to open the window himself but he simply denied to because he couldn't have Y/n catch a cold. He sat down, spreading his legs and crossing them at the ankles.

He draped the blanket over both of their legs, making sure her bump is also covered. Leaning in, he pressed his lips on her pouted ones, smiling in the midst when she wouldn't back away.

Y/n reached for one of the kid's books that she'd been reading to learn some stories she could tell her little bundle of love when they were old enough to whine to her for just one more story. With some trouble, she caught the book on the sofa behind her and opened it, keeping it tilted just in case Harry wanted to join her.

But Harry was rather busy idly playing with her free hand, and as she continued to read, she felt him raise her hand up and press a kiss into her palm. Her cheeks, that were already rosy because of the cold, had now turned a shade of raging red and Harry couldn't help but cackle at that.

Y/n slapped his arm, an embarrassed smile dressed on her lips. "Stop it," she hissed, unable from removing the bashful smile on her mouth when Harry kisses the back of her hand the other time around. She turned her face away so that he couldn't see the cherry-red tint on her face, her mouth trembling because of the shy-giggle she was working hard to keep in.

Harry loved seeing the smallest gestures affect her in ways that she couldn't even control. Sputters of laughter kept falling from his mouth and when she didn't turn to face him after some while, he couldn't help but grab her chin and make her look at him.

Although she had shut her eyes tightly, the apple of her cheeks still suffused with a shade of pink that he decided was his favourite from now on. "C'mon!" He laughed when she wouldn't open her eyes.

He had only started getting such exquisite reactions out of her since he put a baby in her, and God, he would put another one in there if she would keep making him lose his mind like this.

Suddenly, a yelp flew out of his mouth, and he flinched away when she pressed her icy foot flat on his calf.

"Oh my god," he laughed with a surprised expression on his feet. "Baby, how the fuck are you so cold, still?" He shouted with laughter, his heart bursting with love when she started laughing profusely with her head thrown back. He, somewhere in the midst of it all, had stopped laughing, gazing at her instead.

But when Y/n didn't hear him laughing along with her, she opened her eyes only to find him looking at her as if she'd had hung stars in the room for him; and Harry swore her eyes were genuinely glittering and shimmering with something he was sure the poets would call love.

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selfindulgentpixies · 5 months

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Blood upon the snow: chapter 1

Vampire!Gojo x gn!reader

You read that right folks, it's finally here. Or part of it is anyway. I decided to split my vampire Gojo fic into several parts just because feed back really helps me stay inspired and I'm not sure how long this potential beast of a fic will take me to finish otherwise in all honesty. I've put a lot of work into this fic so far. probably one of the most refined things i've written.

CW: canon typical violence, blood drinking (you know vampire stuff),GN!Afab!reader, reader isn't a blank slate but I still hope you will enjoy putting yourself in their shoes, reader is a hunter(the normal kind), Sukuna is here and he's his own warning. Potential for vampire politics in a future parts if i'm feeling crazy, past satosugu (what you thought i'd be able to leave suguru out of this?)

4.2k

It had been years since it happened but you’d never forget it. The winter had been a particularly harsh one and you’d heard the adults talking about bandit attacks being on the rise due to scarcity. Your mother had soothed you and told you nothing would happen though. That you'd get safely from one city to the next. She’d been wrong.

A merchant caravan was far too tempting a target with all the potential goods on board. From the food to all the valuables carried within. You’d been asleep when it happened, curled up safely in your mother’s lap the both of you wrapped in warm furs and being gently rocked by the movements of the carriage. You were meant to make it to the next major settlement by noon the next day. But right now the moon hung high in the sky, bright enough to to be seen through the thin cloud cover. The world outside was all shimmering shades of blue and white under the winter moon’s silver gaze.

The silence of the snow muffled night is cut sharply by a scream followed by a loud crack of splintering wood echoing through the air, likely from the back of the caravan. You wake groggily in your mother’s arms, dazed and confused as she sets you down on the seat so she can look out one of the carriage’s windows toward the front where your father was at the reins. A wet thump, followed by a scream from your mother. More screams, seemingly from all around, cries from adults scrambling to issue orders. Then your carriage veers, the horses startled by the chaos.

You’re knocked from your seat, tiny body tumbling across the carriage when something suddenly rams into its side, sending it over and off the path. The world goes dark, you’re not sure for how long. When you come to the caravan isn’t immediately in sight though the screams seem to echo all around you. When you finally catch sight of an orange glow in the distance your eyes are able to focus on something much closer as well. A dark shape lying in the snow, red slowly spreading around it. No. Not it. Her. Your mother. There’s several figures in the distance backlit by the distant chaos approaching but you can’t tear your wide eyes from your mother. You begin to crawl toward her when her eyes suddenly fixate on you. “Run.” You freeze. With more strength she speaks again. “Run.” The figures in the distance grow closer. “I said RUN.”

You stumble up to your feet then. A step backward.

“RUN”

And you do. Turning on your heel to stumble through the forest. You hear shouting then but you don’t listen to it. Can’t listen to it because you need to listen to your mother. Her face in that moment seared into your mind. Cold air burns through your throat and lungs as you push yourself to run. To where you had no idea. You didn’t know these woods. You’re quick though, like a little rabbit, running with fur boot clad feet you barely sink into the snow at all while your pursuers stumble and sink through the deep drifts of snow. Too heavy to be supported by the shimmering shell that is the snow’s top layer.

You keep running long after you stop hearing their crashing footsteps and shouts. You keep running until you can’t. You collapse, coughing, lungs burning from the effort and cold. You curl into a ball right there beneath the canopy of pines. You’re not sure how long you lie there, but eventually somehow silent and without sinking into the snow at all a pair of boots appear in your line of sight. You weakly turn your face to look up, your lashes and cheeks decorated with jewels made of frozen tears

A person.. Are they really a person, they seem too beautiful to be a person, it’s as if the moon took human form and came to earth. They kneel down in front of you, expression solemn as they reach out to brush away some of the frozen tears before cupping your tiny face in their large hands. Their hands are nearly as cold as the snow you’re laying upon. All you’re really focused on now though are their bright blue eyes, not just bright but glowing. You attempt to speak but no sound comes out of your raw throat.

“Shhh… Don’t try to speak.” The voice is deep yet melodic, you think it might be soothing if you weren’t so numb. The deepness of the voice at least makes you think they’re a man of some kind even if not a human one. He picks you up and bundles you into his coat. You gaze up at him as he carries you, where to, you have no idea but you can’t seem to care in your current state, so instead you gaze up at him. His eyelashes like the snowflakes that fall around you as they dust over his cheeks with each blink.

You’re apparently not the best listener because you weakly croak out a question. “Are you an angel? Did I die..?”

He pauses mid stride and glances down at you, crystalline eyes wide. Then he laughs, the action jostling you against his chest. “Now that’s a new one.” He adjusts his hold on you and continues. “You don’t need to worry about what I am and no you didn’t die.” His solemn expression has been replaced with a soft one. Lips gently curving at least for a moment and gaze soft before he looks ahead. “No more talking from you, you need your rest.”

You don’t need to be told again as your eyelids feel heavy. The exhaustion from before settling over you like a blanket, wrapped in this strange man’s coat and being gently rocked by his steps you drift off.

You stare up at the ceiling of your small room, blinking away sleep. It’s been years since that night and yet you still dream of it. You roll from your cot, immediately stuffing your feet into a pair of slippers. It was beginning to get cold out, the chill always bringing with it the dreams. Not that it was winter yet. Instead of a world dusted in white the world outside was a fiery palette of reds, oranges and yellows.

You wander your way to the small kitchen where your grandmother sits with a cup of tea clutched between her weathered fingers. “You slept in.” It’s simply an observation not an accusation. “That’s not like you. Normally you’re up before the sun, not well after it.”

You reach for the pot of tea and pour yourself a cup, happy to cradle the warmth in your hands. You hum. “And yet you didn’t come to wake me.”

Your grandmother hums in turn then, it was a response you picked up from her after all. “Of course not. You need to get more rest or you’ll burn yourself out. You’ve spent nearly everyday in the woods either hunting or gathering other supplies.”

“I need to make sure we’re both taken care of. It’s predicted to be a harsh winter. This fall has already been particularly cold.” You blow on your tea and sit across from your grandmother.

“We already have more than enough smoked and dried meats to get through the winter.”

“And the extra can go around to others in the village who need it in that case. If not that I can take it to trade in the larger towns for other supplies we might need. You know, like your medicine. OW!” You yelp as she gives your leg a thwack under the table with her cane.

“Watch your tone,” She replies, both hands returning to her cup to raise it to her lips for another sip. “And stop worrying so much about me. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself still.”

You grumble and rub at your leg. “Stubborn old bat…” you mumble beneath your breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing~” You sip at your tea as she narrows her eyes at you.

Before she’s able to say anything more there’s a knock at the door, drawing both of your attention. “Expecting someone today?” You ask her as you begin to get up and go to the door.

“Not at all.”

Not that it was abnormal for people to stop by for any number of reasons in a village like this. What wasn’t normal was when you looked through the peephole and saw one of the lead elders had stopped by your home unannounced. You open the door quickly and step to the side so your grandmother can see who it is.

“Now to what do I owe the visit, Gakuganji? The elders council isn’t meant to gather until the end of the week.” Your grandmother was technically on the council though she was the current youngest member to be welcomed on. Meanwhile she’s said before that she remembers Gakuganji being old already while she was young. Honestly you can’t imagine this fossil ever being young anyway.

“There’s an urgent matter that I need to discuss with you.” He says to your grandmother while his eyes flick pointedly toward you.

You raise your hands in mock defeat. “Alright alright I’ll make myself scarce. Just give me a minute to get properly changed, old man.” This earns you a glare from Gakuganji and a snort from your grandmother as you head back to your room. Soon enough you’re dressed and heading out the door, grabbing your bow and quiver as you go. Your hunting knife already secured to a belt at your waist. Admittedly you’re curious about what could be so urgent that it would bring Gakuganji here, especially when as your grandmother had said there was to be a regularly scheduled meeting of the elders from the various villages at the end of the week.

You stretch and breathe in the crisp air. Glancing toward the sky you realize just how late you actually had slept in and feel a bit mortified. Your grandmother had really let you sleep in well past noon. You grumble and go to bundle up one of your kills from the previous day onto the back of your horse to bring to the city to sell. You really did need to go and get more medicine for your grandmother anyway.

It’s grown dark once you’re on your way home. The days grow shorter and shorter giving way to long nights. You didn’t mind it much. There was a certain peace that came with it, though while on the roads you didn’t allow yourself a false sense of security. It’s why even when you weren’t hunting you always had your knife and bow. It’s a habit that’s saved your life on more than one occasion, both from creatures of the night and simple brigands who think you’d make an easy target.

Something is wrong tonight. You feel it in the air. Everything is too quiet and when the forest is quiet it often means something dangerous is around. You pet your horse’s neck, aiming to soothe it. That’s when not far ahead you see a figure on the road. You slide your bow off your shoulder, your free hand poised to grab for an arrow if you need it as you steer your horse with your thighs. Not that it needed guidance on the path home which you’ve taken hundreds of times.

“So even rabbits can bare their teeth, hmm?” The figure speaks without looking at you. His voice is deep and dripping with amusement. “Put that arrow away before you get hurt, human. I have no business with you”

A shiver goes through you at the words. Human. Your horse stops and refuses to go forward. Your horse that’s encountered all sorts of beasts and kept its nerve. When you don’t say anything the man looks over at you, his eyes are crimson and his face is adorned with tattoos. You know who he is even without having ever seen him in person. You press your lips into a firm line. Sukuna the vampire lord from a distant land. His territory brushed precariously with the Vampire lord who called your own lands home. Two vampires who were closer to gods than anything walking this earth truly ought to be. Crystalline blue eyes and a snowy night flash through your mind’s eye.

You at least know better than to question his presence out loud. But still you don’t avert your gaze and his eyes narrow. Suddenly he is much much closer, making your horse rear back in panic, knocking you off before it lets out a sound of fear and runs off into the woods, leaving you on your back on the dirt road.

“Perhaps your beast is smarter than you are.”

You let out a hiss of pain before opening your eyes and looking up. He’s standing above you, crimson eyes gazing down at you unimpressed. Fear pricks across your skin and keeps your mouth shut. After what feels like an eternity he snorts and suddenly you feel as if you can move again. You scramble to your feet and look away. Years of experience have told you not to take your eyes off a predator and give them an opening lest they rip out your throat but your instincts say to stop meeting his eyes and get away. You think your instincts have the better of it this time.

“Now you show sense,” His tone is incredulous. Now that you’re looking away from his face he begins to walk past you. He pauses when he’s right beside you. “You should be grateful I’m in a good mood tonight.” And like that he’s gone.

The encounter leaves you shaken and without a ride. You curse and shakily gather up anything that fell off your horse with you before heading home. Hopefully your horse would find their way back home just fine and wouldn’t get picked off. You’d worry about them being stolen if they liked anyone but you.

You debate the whole way home if you should tell your grandmother that you encountered Sukuna. Would she even believe you? And if she does, what can she do with the information? Bring it up to the other elders at the end of the week? Or maybe Gakuganji is still at the house… Your whole face sours like you just drank bad milk. That old man wouldn’t believe you. There’s no way.

You’re incredibly surprised then when you crest the hill to the village and see chaos. People rushing around everywhere, loading carriages and preparing livestock to move. You break into a run toward your home. This had to do with the elder’s visit, there’s no way it wasn’t related. When you burst through the front door and into the kitchen you’re surprised to find your grandmother much like you had this afternoon when you’d gotten up. Though this time she’s smoking instead of drinking tea. Blue grey smoke curls into the air from the intricately carved pipe.

“Grandma, what’s going on? Why is everyone panicking and why’re you just sitting here?”

A deep inhale and the end of the pipe shines bright with embers casting the old woman’s face in orange light before she sighs out a plume of smoke and sets the pipe down against her little wooden ashtray. “I told the villagers they need to evacuate.”

Your brows furrow together and dread begins to tighten your chest. “But why? What did the old fossil say, and don’t try and say it’s unrelated.”

She snorts. “Don’t let him hear you call him that…” she ignores your mumbled ‘you call him that all the time’ and sighs deeply. “You’re aware that we fall within a vampire lord’s domain correct?”

You’re a bit taken aback but you nod. “Lord Gojo oversees this territory and the vampires within it.” Not that he exercised any direct power over the human population. Not in a ruling sense anyway.

Your grandmother nods. “The people of his territory are lucky. He’s benevolent as far as vampire lords are considered. He limits the hunting of vampires within his territory and protects us from outside threats.” She pauses, seeming to think for a moment. “He even saved you and brought you home to me without asking for anything in return.”

You’d started to brew tea as she spoke, needing to direct your attention somewhere to control the dread, but now after lowering the kettle over the flames in the hearth you look at her. Really look at your grandmother, frail and forlorn but with a slightest hint of a smile on her face.

“Imagine my shock when he showed up at my door with you bundled up tight. By the time he brought you home I’d heard tell of what happened to the caravan, I’d assumed you’d been lost. But there he was with you, rosy cheeked and cared for. You’d been missing until you were able to tell him who your family were… “

You sit across from her, wondering where she was going with bringing up this story. “I don’t really remember much other than when he found me to be honest..”

“I’m surprised you remember that much.. Truly though I’d expected him to ask for something in return. Perhaps even ask for you once you were of age.”

You choke on nothing at her words and your cheeks flush with heat. “Grandma! That isn’t funny.” Your voice is indignant.

“It’s not meant to be,” she says seriously then sighs. “My point is we’re lucky. He mostly leaves us all be despite his eccentric whims. That isn’t something many who live within a vampire lord’s territory can say. Afterall when I was growing up I fled from the territory of one who was far more malevolent.”

Lord Sukuna. Your encounter on the road flashes through your mind. Things are slowly clicking into place in your mind.

“Lord Gojo has been challenged to a battle by Lord Sukuna.” She folds her hands on the table in front of her, the weight of her words creating a pit beneath you that threatens to swallow you whole. You'd heard the stories of how those who lived within his domain lived or died based on his pleasure of displeasure.

“On the road tonight-” you begin but your grandmother cuts you off.

“This is why the village is evacuating. We’re too close to where the battle is to take place. Though some are going to go further than others. If Lord Sukuna wins, who's to say how quickly all our lives will be thrown into chaos. If he’ll decide to try and take over or if this is simply a game to test his power.”

You chew your lip. “Okay if that’s the case why aren’t you preparing to leave as well?”

She makes an incredulous sound. “Please, you know how my health is. I’m staying here, I won’t be run off from my home by him again. I told the villagers to evacuate so they can make their own choice. Mine is to stay here.”

You stare in disbelief. Maybe you shouldn’t be shocked considering this small village basically sprung up around your grandmother after she settled here. But still to just stay and wait for whatever happens…

The kettle begins to whistle and you push away from the table to get it. To prepare you both steaming cups of tea.

“My question then, oh grandchild of mine, is what will you do?”

Your hands tremble slightly as you pour each of you a cup. “How long do we have, do you know?”

“Two nights from now on the harvest moon.”

“Thats-”

“Incredibly short notice? I imagine Sukuna is forcing lord Gojo’s hand for it to be so sudden. Fight him on that night willingly or he’ll simply begin wreaking havoc in his domain regardless and force him into a confrontation that way.”

“And i really can’t convince you to leave…?”

“No. I decided years ago that I would live out my life here in this village. If it’s to end in a blaze of glory during a battle of titans? Then so be it.”

You tightly clutch at the tea cup in your hands. There’s an unspoken ‘you won’t take that away from me will you?’ that hangs in the air between the two of you. And you won’t. Despite how much it pains you, you won’t take that away from the woman who’s given you so much over the years.

—

In the end you’d left. You stayed longer than most, until the autumn sun was high in the sky, uncaring of the destruction that was sure to be wrought that night. Hadn’t the sun realized that a day like this was meant for storms and gloom? But you’d stayed until your grandmother urged you out the door. You’d wanted to drag her with you but if her final wish truly was to live and die in this village you couldn’t take that away.

You didn’t go far. Only as far as you had to, something in you deciding that you’d bear witness even if from a distance. The powers at play were hard to comprehend. Two beings who appear to be but mere men but with power so immense that you think your grandmother’s description of titans failed to convey it fully. You imagined this is what it was for gods to clash.

The night is old when all seems to have settled and you make your way toward the battlefield. Your intention was merely to see what was left of your home and if your grandmother perhaps still lived. You don’t make it that far though under the harvest moon’s orange red glow. Instead halfway through a scorched field you find him. Pale form covered in ash and blood, once brilliant blue eyes staring dully at the night sky above.

Your breath stutters in your chest. Part of you wishes you could say you hesitate but you don’t. You move to the vampire lord’s side, gently going to your knees by his head. There’s no reaction, not at first anyway. But then dull eyes slowly move toward you. Even still you knew he was dying. If nothing was done he was going to die just like you would have in the snow all those years ago if he hadn't found you.

You draw your hunting knife from your belt, the worn handle carved from the antler of your first kill making it feel like an extension of yourself. You stare at it and its glinting blade, kept meticulously sharp and clean by you, before glancing back down at the man who’d saved you. You weren’t sure if this would even work but you felt you needed to try. Cold steel cuts into the back of your wrist cleanly. You let out a hiss between your teeth at the feeling, and then watch mesmerized by the blood welling to the surface.

With the knife tucked away you slip one hand beneath his head and then lower your bleeding wrist to his lips. At first he doesn’t react. Instead your life simply flows passively past his lips. “Please… I never got to thank you,” Your plea is quiet.

You feel it then, his lips moving against your skin. His lashes flutter before his eyes seem to gain a hazy sort of focus, different from the dullness of moments prior. You press your wrist more firmly to his mouth and you feel his tongue laving over the cut in your wrist. The action surprising you both as something unfamiliar in itself but also in how it soothes the stinging wound. Then like a steel trap being triggered his hands fly up and grab your arm securely before his mouth fully latches onto your wrist, fangs cleanly piercing your flesh as if you were nothing more than a ripe summer peach. You cry out, both from the sudden sting of pain and the abruptness of his action. You don’t try to yank away, instead curling forward, the hand that was once supporting his head going to the ground to curl into the soil. You pant, your face directly above his with your eyes closed tight. The pain is fading as quickly as it started, numbness taking its place similar to when he’d licked the cut you’d made. Your eyes flutter back open and for the first time the eyes you remember from that winter night meet your own. Crystalline as they hold your gaze even as it grows hazy.

You wonder then if you were trading your life for his. If he would drink you dry with every pull of your blood past his lips. You don’t think you’d mind that since your time had been borrowed from him anyway. You sway even on your knees and begin to fall forward. It’s only distantly that you note him releasing your wrist before everything swims out of focus. __

Ba-thump

“Gojo! You’re alive! We thought- .. who is that?”

Ba-thump

“I don’t have time to explain. Get Shoko-”

Ba-thump

And there you have it folks! And i used dividers for the for the first time. Nothin too fancy but I felt this deserved it. I would love to hear if you guys enjoyed this and what your favorite part/s were. This fic is sorta my baby. It's somthing I'll work on when the mood strikes because I want to do it right and put a lot of love into it. I'm really trying for those gothic romance vibes. Also sorry Gojo wasn't in this chapter a ton but I really needed to set the scene and tone of this story.

tag list!: @icy-spicy @margumis @fah-keet @missmugiwara @pastelle-rabbit @mysugu @fushigurro @nanamikentoseyebags @whispers-of-lilith @princess-okkotsu @strawberrystepmom @chifuyuskoneko @katsulock @kinjuutsu @kweenkatsuki-main @biscuitsngravie @pupkashi @chuuyasboots @porridgesblog @kailali @4sat0ruu

divider credit: @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more

#satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x gn!reader #jjk x reader #jjk x gn!reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gn!reader #vampire gojo #vampire x reader #rossi writes

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 5 months

Text

Exactly what it's meant to say

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 28

Prompt: Proposal

Rated: G

CW: none

Tags: Established relationship; Moving in together; Fluff; Marriage proposal

Notes: Contiued from days 5 and 25

Eddie is up on the roof when Steve pulls into the driveway. His first thought is that the rain pipe must be leaking again, but then he sees the giant letters his boyfriend is wrestling into submission on the snow-covered roof and sighs.

"Eds?" he calls out as he gets from the car. Eddie yelps and almost slips and Steve has a brief mental image of spending Christmas Eve at the emergency room. "I thought we agreed to not put them up this year?"

He wasn't even sure which of the many unopened boxes they were in - just knew that Eddie had not-so-sneakily grabbed all of the old Christmas decorations from the house in Loch Nora on the day Steve moved out. Not that Steve minded. His parents haven't been home for the holidays in forever, it's not like they'll miss the stuff.

"Okay, I know, but listen!" Eddie flashes him a toothy grin as he skids down the roof and to the ladder that's leaning against the wall. Steve watches him, hip popped against the side of the car, as he comes wading towards him in the fresh layer of snow. "I know we said we'd skip it this year, what with still getting settled and stuff, but I was unpacking some of the boxes earlier, and I found the letters, and I just had to put them up. It's our little tradition, Stevie. Would be bad luck not to observe it in our first year in the new place."

He has drifted into Steve’s space and put his hands in his coat pockets to pull him closer, all disarming, dimpled smile and large brown eyes. Steve hums in mock-annoyance as Eddie leans in to steal a kiss.

"So does it actually say what it's supposed to this year?"

Eddie cocks his head at him.

"I have no idea what you-"

"Eds?" Steve quirks an eyebrow and Eddie falls silent.

Because, yes, the letters have become a bit of a tradition ever since their first Christmas together, and Steve would be lying if he said they don’t make him feel all warm and fuzzy.

Another tradition is that they never actually spell the right thing.

And while the MERRY SMAX sparkling from the roof of the Harrington house for all the neighborhood to see in the first year was still an accident, Eddie has since embarked on a mission to outdo himself with increasingly absurd creations.

Steve still fondly remembers SEXY MARRM, ARSEY MR XM, and - last year's zinger - SMARMY REX.

And judging by the entirely too innocent grin gracing Eddie’s face now, he's in for another treat.

"Eddie?" he tries again, one hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "What is it this year?"

"Dunno what you mean, baby," Eddie singsongs, and prances over to the switch for the outdoor power supply like a particularly merry Christmas elf. Steve can't quite conceal his fond grin as he is tugged along. "It says exactly what it's supposed to say. How about you do the honors?"

Steve rolls his eyes but obediently pushes the switch. The letters flicker to life, casting the snowy front yard in a haze of sparkling white. Steve can't see the roof from where they're standing, so he takes a few steps down the driveway. Eddie hovers by his shoulder, suddenly tense and silent, and oh God, what has he done now?

"Eddie," he starts, "I swear, if I have to explain to the neighbors why our roof says stuff about axes, I'll-"

And then he stops.

Steve feels how his mouth drops open and how his eyes bulge, and he's faintly aware that he must look like a complete idiot, but he's powerless to do anything about it.

Because he has just turned and now he sees what the words say.

Because Eddie has actually left out some of the letters this time and he has no idea what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't this.

Because every single bit of mental capacity is focused on playing the words sparkling down at him on repeat in his head.

MARRY ME

"See?" Eddie has stepped up beside him and taken his limp hand to entangle their fingers, but his voice is hesitant all of a sudden. When Steve manages to turn his head, those dark, pretty eyes are refusing to meet his, pointedly trained on the roof instead. "Exactly what it's meant to say."

Steve gapes at him. Eddie cringes and pulls a strand of hair in front of his face with his free hand. The other is trembling around Steve's fingers.

"So, I know we can't really," he mumbles. "Like, legally or shit. But … you've literally pulled me from hell and I know it sounds totally cheesy, but it feels like you skipped boring old Earth and dragged me straight on into heaven and I totally would, if I could. Marry you, I mean. So if it's cool with you, I'll get you a ring or something, promise to stick with you forever, all that lame-ass stuff."

Steve stares. Swallows, tries to speak, but no words come out. Eddie sighs.

"And if it isn't, that's also fine. I just … wanted to put it out there, y'know. Like, literally. I'm sorry, I'll… I'll just take these down."

And Steve still can't talk, isn't sure when he'll be able to again. But he also doesn’t need to. Because what he can do is tighten his grip on Eddie’s hand as it threatens to slip from his.

What he can do is pull him back in, body against body and sling an arm around his waist to keep him from getting away.

What he can do is crash their mouths together in a kiss so searing he's surprised the snow doesn't melt all around them.

What he can do is hope that this will be enough of an answer.

From the way Eddie grins against his lips, it is.

All my holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #hype's holiday drabbles

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ghouljams · 9 months

Note

the brainrot for fae!price/ witch is soooo real and now i’m just thinking about price doing stuff like helping witch put on her coat and then walking her home 🥺🥺 i’m so soft rn

Oh this just leads into my favorite Witch headcanon which is that I think she loves winter. Sure she has familial ties to summer and whatever but she loves winter, loves warm drinks, and fluffy coats, and bundling up, and snow! OH MY GOD She loves snow.

You hold your hand out to catch a falling snowflake, as Price lights his cigar. The crystalline structure bends and melts on your warm skin. You light up like he's never seen you before.

Price doesn't see what the big deal is, a little frozen water, he sees it all the time. It's nothing spectacular. The city hardly gets enough snow to call a blanket. It gets cold though, cold enough most people would complain about walking through it. He would've thought with all your bonds to summer you'd be more susceptible to chill, but you hardly seem bothered.

Maybe it's your coat, there must be some sort of heat spell on it. Runes hidden in the sherpa lining, he can't see any on the outside of it marring the soft cream color. It doesn't feel magical.

But that's not true, is it? It does feel like magic to watch you push your hood off your head and cup your hands to warm them with your breath. To have you look at him and announce, "It's snowing!" All your summer warmth still shining in your smile. The fog of your breath puffs out excitedly. It curls with his smoke, holds onto it affectionately. You look up to the sky, the gently falling snow, and laugh when the freeze hits your cheeks.

Price looks up at the grey sky, the gentle drift of snow from the clouds, it's almost nostalgic. How can this little storm make you so happy? You have a whole season of snow on your back step. Shouldn't you be as tired of it as he is?

"Have you ever been through Winter?" He asks, watching you pull gloves from your pocket. You wiggle your fingers into the pink knit and shake your head.

"Just that one time, I've never had a reason to go through the wild. Besides, its dangerous without an escort," You hum, and start your walk again. He's quick to grab your hand and tug your down the first alley. You make a small noise of protest but follow without complaint. Achingly trusting. It squeezes tight in Price's chest, you put yourself in his hands without question it seems. What has he ever done to deserve that? (Nothing good)

He feels the streets molding to his will, feels the path straighten out turns as he pulls you further down the narrow alley towards the white glittering snow of winter. You stop short at the edge of the forest, the tumble of snow onto cobblestone just brushing your boots.

"Where are we going?" Finally suspicion edges your voice, it's good to hear.

"I'm walking you home," You narrow your eyes at him, "Your home." He clarifies. Unease clouds your features for a brief moment before you take a tentative step onto the snow. It crunches beautifully under your feet, and you bite down a smile.

It's not a long walk, it doesn't have to be, but you keep stopping. You crouch to gather snow between your hands, to build up little walls, tiny snowmen, or simply laying in the snow when the mood seizes you. Price offers a hand to pull you to your feet after one such mood, watching you giggle and brush the snow off of your back.

You're gorgeous, cheeks flushed from the cold, eyes sparkling, your every breath wraps around him with thanks. If he'd known you were such a fan of winter he would've brought you out here ages ago. Although ages ago you wouldn't have trusted him enough to let him.

"I know this is probably taking longer than you wanted," You tilt your head forwards as he brushes the snow from your hood, "It's silly but I haven't seen snow like this since I was a kid."

"I don't mind." Really he doesn't, it's a treat seeing you enjoy yourself like this. You're usually so serious, so intent about everything. Seeing you play is refreshing. You don't let go of his hand as you walk. Price considers stretching out the path a little longer until he sees you shiver. Your free hand tugs your scarf over your nose, not so warm as you were at the start. Best to get you home before the cold ruins this for you.

Your smile doesn't dim as you lean against him, sharing warmth as you walk. The snow isnt deep, but you still cling to him like you need the help to get through it. You almost seem reluctant to return to your cozy patch of summer, stalling at your garden gate. Price snuffs his cigar on the garden wall while you kick your feet.

"C'mere," he turns you to face him, settles his hands on your waist and lifts. Your hands scramble to hold onto his shoulders as he lifts you up and over the brick wall. You pull up your feet to keep from bumping against the brick, before settling gently in the warm dirt of your garden.

"Thank you," you breathe and he feels the warmth of a tether hooking in his chest. One favor for another as always. Although again, you weigh the values wrong. Walking you home, seeing your unabashed joy for his season, he should be thanking you. It's your gift, but he has no intention of paying it back. Not when the tie it creates is so warm, so careful, so intent.

"My pleasure," he tells you, his hands sliding from your waist to press against the wall. Your threshold parts for him like an old friend when he leans over it. Your fingers hold his face, tentative but wanting, threading through his beard as you lean in and kiss him. Soft and sweet, and still biting with winter's chill. His absolute pleasure.

#cod x reader #x reader #john price x reader #john price x oc #captain john price #captain price x oc #captain price x reader #captain price cod #captain price #john price mw2 #oc: witch #1fae1 #fae!price

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shebunie · 6 months

Note

Hello!! Can you do mizu x mixed trans fem reader which reader been traveling with them for a while now and they both find out about each other gender stuff by at a river when mizu is naked/bathing and reader doesn't know that mizu is their and is half naked to also sorry this is my first time requesting 😭😭

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

𝗠𝗶𝘇𝘂 𝘅 𝗺𝗶𝘅𝗲𝗱! 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝗸𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗳𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁, 𝗺𝘂𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗶𝗻𝗷𝘂𝗿𝘆, 𝗺𝗶𝘇𝘂 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟭.𝟭𝗸 𝐀/𝐍: 𝗜 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗱𝗶𝗱 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁, 𝘀𝘂𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝘅 𝗴𝗿𝘂𝗺𝗽𝘆 𝘁𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗽𝗲, 𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗮 𝗱𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝗱𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿.

Sandals crunched beneath your feet as you and Mizu traversed the vast expanse of the snow-covered path. The ethereal silence was occasionally interrupted by the soft whispers of the freezing winter breeze. A pristine white carpet enveloped the landscape, kissed by the gentle rays of the sun that filtered through the treetops, creating a mesmerizing play of light and shadow. Enchanted by the beauty, you mumbled to Mizu, the sword-wielder trailing behind.

"It's so beautiful," you sighed, casting your gaze ahead at the winter wonderland that stretched out before you.

Mizu's response came as a whisper, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips as she tilted her head to obscure her vision. "Indeed it is," she agreed, her eyes already locked onto yours.

You slowed your pace to match Mizu's, the two of you now walking side by side. "I heard some orchids bloom at this time of the month. Do you think we might encounter some on our way?" you asked, leaning down to catch the gaze of the dark-haired swordsman who had allowed you to join her on this quest for revenge.

"Rarely," Mizu replied with a hint of melancholy. "They're suited neither for frost nor fry."

Undeterred, you faced forward, a hopeful glint still evident in your eyes. "There is still a chance then, slim but evident."

Mizu peered at you from the corner of her eye, playfully rolling her eyes and shaking her head. She let out a small, contented sigh as you both continued your journey.

Throughout the trek, you occupied Mizu with your lively chatter, and she didn't mind. Your cheery and bright demeanour made the otherwise solemn journey more bearable.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and the moon took its place in the night sky, the duo decided to set up camp in a desolate area of the forest. A crackling fire was kindled to stave off the biting winter chill.

"Stay here while I look for more firewood," Mizu instructed, rising from her seated position. You noticed a subtle grimace as she reached for her shoulder, a lingering reminder of the battles she had fought.

"Let me help—" you began.

"No, you do not have to," she cut you off, her voice firm yet soft. With a nod, she ventured off into the darkened woods.

Exhaling a heavy sigh, you turned your attention to a boiling pot of water. "I guess I'm on soup duty."

As you rummaged through the meager supplies in your small travel bag, you realized the ingredients were lacking. Setting the pot aside, you decided to forage for plants in the nearby vicinity.

Meanwhile, Mizu settled by the river's shore, wincing at the friction caused by her clothes. With a hiss, she slipped off her shoulder armor, exposing a bloody wound. Sighing, she removed the clothing entirely and immersed herself in the warm waters of the river, seeking solace from the pain.

For the first time, she felt a sense of relaxation, the soothing sounds of the river diverting her thoughts from the persistent ache of the gash she had acquired in her battle with Taigen.

Her mind, however, drifted to you. She questioned why.

Was it because you both shared the same defect? Did she pity you? Was it your annoyingly talkative nature?

Both of you were made with mixed metal, marked as demons, outcasts in a world where being a woman was challenging enough. Mizu loathed the stares and derogatory remarks that accompanied your presence. She detested the morbid offers from flesh traders who saw you as a commodity, a means to make coin.

She had never wondered why.

Why her gaze linger a bit longer when you patched her up. Why there were accidental hand touches that felt like more than mere accidents. Why she felt an unexplainable need to see, hear, or hold you close.

A sudden snap broke her reverie. Mizu swiftly picked up and unsheathed her sword, forgetting her clothes in the process. Danger lurked; you were in danger. The sharp end of her blade was now pointed at the intruder.

At you.

Half-naked, you stood there with wide eyes. Immediately, you turned your bare back toward her, attempting to shield yourself. "I saw no— nothing," you stammered, your hands hugging your half-exposed body for warmth. A sigh escaped from behind.

"I thought I told you to stay?"

"Well, you see, after you left, I was about to cook food for us, but then we were lacking ingredients. So, I assumed the forest might have some plants or herbs lying around and got carried away—"

"You talk too much," Mizu remarked, her eyes burning into the back of your head.

A frown creased your face, and your gaze dropped to the ground. "Sorry," you muttered loud enough for Mizu to hear.

A faint splash of water behind you prompted you to look. The blue-eyed woman sat under the warm waters of the river, staining its clear stream with red. "You're bleeding." Without much thought, you undressed and submerged yourself in the water.

Mizu never once looked your way as she felt the soft touch of your fingers tracing her wound, biting back a wince. "You should have told me; I could've stitched this up." The revelation of her being a woman had temporarily left your mind as you ripped a piece of cloth from your garments to make a makeshift towel to clean her wound.

With a gentle touch, you took care of her once more.

Silence lingered in the atmosphere until you spoke. "Do you trust me, Mizu?" The question had her turn her gaze to you, eyes reflecting the subtle glow of the moon, cheeks tinted a faint red from the warmth of the water.

Lips hovered over yours, not quite kissing but close enough that any small distance could do so. Their breaths blended, warm and wanting. It felt wrong, Mizu thought. She dared not close that distance; she was afraid to do so. Yet, you had her in a trance.

"Can I kiss you?" The way her eyes lingered on your lips, she raised a hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You leaned in, closing the final distance. Your fingers tread carefully in her dark tresses, one hand caressing her face with a gentle touch.

It made Mizu feel safe. She felt seen and loved by your touches. She loved you.

A hand slid from the side of your thigh to your waist, guiding you forward to straddle her lap. Parting from one another, Mizu leaned her forehead against yours with a ragged breath and a faint smile. Tracing circles on your bare hips with her thumb, she whispered, "You've stolen my heart, and I want it to continue being yours."

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weixuldo · 6 months

Text

Allow me// ch 14

Vader x Reader

a/n: so sorry for the delayyy rahhh i’ve been traveling for the holidays!! i’ve been cranking stuff out tho so dw!!! i’ve been working on enigma, allow me, and line cook ani pt 2 heheh also unconditionally epilogue// also words in font like this means vader is using the force to speak- not his normal voice

How much longer will it be before you hear from Lord Vader again? is he safe? is he alright?

warnings: cursing, angst, harm, medical procedures, cannon typical violence

_____________________

After what seemed like days of stumbling around fighting off any enemy he came against, Vader finally obtained a ship. It wasn’t much, but at least he was able to jump start it. As soon as he got the engine going- he set in coordinates for Hoth.

He was absolutely exhausted in every way someone could be; mentally, physically, emotionally… Not only did his broken body ache, but his mind raced with thoughts of what his master would do next if he were to defy him. Would he really be replaced?

As he flew the small ship towards the icy system, the failure of his suit became increasingly evident. After using so much energy and power from the force to fend off bounty hunters and fight opponents (all while his suit was damaged and with makeshift limbs), he was so completely exhausted that he could barely stay conscious as he drifted through space.

The flesh parts of his legs throbbed uncomfortably- the makeshift prosthetics weren't made to cushion his walk so he was putting too much pressure on his poor stumps. He desperately wanted to put the ship on auto pilot but sadly, it did not have that feature.

So he begrudgingly adjusted himself in the pilot seat and desperately tried to stay awake.

___________________________________

Your anxiety was through the roof the past few days; not only had you heard nothing from Vader or when he would return, but the Emperor seemed as if he were observing you much more closely now.

Thankfully you had finished your main tasks for the day and retired to your quarters earlier than normal (not that that really meant anything special. You were still just going to overthink).

You laid down and observed the same ceiling you had been looking at for months, only this time you were worried about Vader.

You pleaded with the force that he was ok and would return safely. You would rejoice once you knew he was safe and finally with you again. Would he feel the same about you?

____________________________________

The sight of his docked ship took an enormous weight off of Vader’s chest; he was back. He would no longer have to wonder how he’d get back or have to worry about conserving his energy.

He landed the ship as best as he could, but it was a rough landing; he had to opt for a landing in the snow. Once the ship was powered off, he slowly pulled himself out of the cockpit.

The freezing temperatures of the frigid planet whipped at his exposed skin and made his metal joints creaky. He was shutting down. His legs were barely able to hold his weight anymore- he was completely drained.

Even though he wanted so desperately to call to you through the force, he just couldn’t muster the energy.

Before he knew it, his world went black and he was left lying, face down, in the thick layers of snow.

Thankfully some stormtroopers saw his bumpy landing and came to check out the commotion. Without them he would not have made it back.

“Uhhh- You might wanna take a look at this” one of the white armor clad men said to the other.

“Lord Vader?!”

“Yea…. we should probably get him inside” another chimed in.

“Right away! We need to get him to the med chamber”

_______________________________________

You had taken a stroll around the living quarters to try to get your mind off of things (it wasn’t working), sadly everything in the damn ship just screamed Vader- it was his ship, after all.

As you walked the halls, a large group of troopers marched down the hall opposite to you.

They seemed rushed- their matters must have been important.

You thought nothing of it initially (There was always some drill or task they were running around to complete), but you froze when you heard it.

“Lord Vader is back”

“Really? Where is he?” a second asked.

“We’re pretty sure he's in the med bay- probably being checked for wounds” the first added.

You didn’t need to hear anymore, before you were off.

You rushed to the med bay where he was being held for assessment by the medical droids and Vanee.

You punched in the security code and swiped your card quicker than you ever had before and breathlessly entered the dark room.

You didn’t expect to see a pillar of light in the middle of the pitch black room; once your eyes adjusted you realized the pillar was actually a large bacta tank… with a limbless figure strung up in the middle, a sight you had never seen.

As you squinted you realized you recognized that face- it was Vader in there.

Was he injured so badly as to lose the rest of his limbs? No- you looked closer and his amputations seemed to be old wounds- you knew he had some prosthetics, but you didn’t realize he had lost all of them.

He floated in the healing liquid, only suspended by a black harness. The slight movement of the water softly carried his body up and down.

You observed more and noticed how muscular he was, his shoulders were just as broad even outside the suit. As much as you wanted to linger your gaze on his body, you felt that it was not the time to marvel at his impressive physique.

You began to walk forward to get a better look at his injuries when a pale faced man ran at you; “Get out! Do not dare disturb the Lord as he heals!” the elder screamed at you, which caused Vader to weakly open an eye.

Once he saw that it was you he panicked for a moment- he didn’t want you to see him like this… he wasn’t ready.

Surely you were frightened of him now, surely you couldn’t hold him in the same regard as you did before.

A look of worry found itself onto your face as you saw Vader’s scared face, but soon the pale man started getting violent with you.

He pulled, pushed, and even began to scratch you with his long nails but you wouldn’t budge, you needed to make sure Vader was ok.

Vanee, Stop.

What was that?

The pale man ceased his attack and stepped aside, “but my lord, she is-”

Let her be and leave us.

Vader was speaking through the force.

Vanee nodded and scurried out of the dark room.

Once it was just you and Vader left, you walked towards the glass tube and rested your palms against the cool surface.

“V? Are you going to be ok?” you asked with a small voice.

I will be, i’m so sorry

both of his eyes were open now.

“Sorry for what V?” What was he talking about?

I didn’t want you to see me like this

You were no medic so all you could offer Vader was your company and support as he endured a painful recovery process.

“Oh, Vader… please do not worry about that- I want you to focus on healing” you said softly as you pressed a gentle hand on the glass of the tank.

You felt a warm sensation wash over you and embraced the familiar force signature of the Sith; he was connecting with you the only way he could.

Thank you

_____________________________

You stayed by Vader’s side until he was done with his soak; the two of you were silent for the most part- for you it was just comforting to be in his presence once more.

Near the end he opened up about the past few days in small bits (you probably wouldn’t ever get the full story).

He briefly explained why his master sought to punish him and to you, it was an impossibly stupid reason.

You were disgusted by the Emperor- he tortured Vader for teaming with someone he thought fit to be an ally. Then Palpatine went so far as to destroy Vader’s prosthetics and dump him back onto the shores that once scarred him all those years ago.

If Vader weren’t as strong as he is… he surely would have died.

Palpatine is a cruel man.

W-would you help me lie down?

“I would rather you help me than the droids,” he admitted in his modulated voice.

You nodded and walked closer to the glass.

“Press that button and lift that switch” he guided you towards an operating panel that would drain his tank.

Once you had that done you went to search for some towels to dry him off with. He was left hanging from his harness with an embarrassed feeling.

The glass tube retreated below the floor and he was gently lowered to the platform; you laid a soft towel down and had another in your hands as you received his tired body.

You guided his body into your lap and held him in your arms once he was finally released from the suspending cords that attached to the harness around his torso.

He was so light in your arms compared to what you had expected; he was muscular, but the more you thought about it, he only had a torso, a head, and four stumps.

He allowed you to assist him to the steel examination table in the next room over. You could tell he was ashamed of his body and inability to do basic tasks in his state, but you quietly reminded him that you only wanted to help.

“Would you like me to unbuckle your harness? Or do you just want to keep it on, I assume you’ll be going back in the tank soon” You offered softly.

To your surprise, he shook his head- “No, my master won't allow me to soak again today until much later. Are you sure you would be comfortable touching… me?” He added the last part in pity.

You scowled at his master’s instructions, but your eyes softened when you answered him, “Vader, I have pledged myself to you, have I not?”.

“Y-yes?” he replied softly.

“Then you have nothing to worry about- You have nothing to be ashamed of,” you said.

Your words seemed to relax him slightly and he exhaled shakily before shutting his eyes.

You stayed by his calming him, helping apply cooling creams to his new burns, and helping him with the oxygen mask.

It hurt to see the one you loved in such a crestfallen state, but at least he was alive.

Once he was a bit more stable he spoke again.

“thank you, proceed”.

The ends of his limbs had metal ports that looked warped; to your best knowledge they must have been welded to another type of metal and then had to be cut off.

You jumped a little when you saw Vader begin to move his scarred legs from you; he refused to meet your gaze.

“It’s alright- I’m just examining your ports- I may be able to design new ones for you since these ones definitely won’t be able to connect to your new legs” you said in an attempt to quell his worries.

His eyes relaxed and he began to blink slowly again.

Thank you

He was speaking through the force again; his energy must have been depleting.

“No need to thank me V. I would do anything for you” you smiled softly before leaning in to kiss his temple.

_______________________

You worked on crafting new ports for Vader’s prosthetics to attach as he rested; you offered to leave and work in the workshop, but he insisted (more like begged) you to stay with him.

You had the transport droid he gifted you, bringing up the materials and your toolkit so you could start working as you sat with him.

Though, Vader did sense the surrounding area first to make sure Palpatine wouldn’t make a surprise visit- having you in his chambers would not be a good scene for the emperor to see.

You knew if Palpatine was so cruel as to make Vader relive his past trauma and suffering, he would definitely have no problems involving you in a nefarious scheme to get Vader to react in a certain way. It was beyond fucked up.

Soon you had finished his arm’s ports and walked over to the bed you laid him on.

His eyes were closed and a few tubes carrying nutrients and oxygen peeked from under the covers you placed over him.

You could hear his damaged throat rasping with every breath he took; you wanted nothing more than to take all of his pain away.

This was the longest you had ever seen him out of his suit and the only time you had ever seen his whole body.

He was covered head to thigh in poorly healed scars and new burns from his most recent brush with the unforgiving lava planet.

His chest and back had a few unnatural ports for his suit to connect his life support to, but other than that he was flesh (except for his organs, of course).

But sadly you would have to wake him from his slumber soon since he was supposed to be back to his duties in two days ...The Emperor heartlessly expected an impossibly speedy recovery- obviously that was just an outrageous request, but Vader couldn’t protest.

You knew the wounds that littered his face had been “healed” for years, but as you went to brush his forehead you hesitated.

Should you be touching him without his permission?

Seeing him outside of his suit seemed like you were gazing upon something sacred. Something you shouldn't.

Gently you placed a gentle hand on his cheek and waited for him to open his eyes. You bit your lip before placing your other hand on his other cheek.

“Vader,” you whispered.

Still nothing.

Slowly and carefully, you leaned down to place a tender kiss on his scarred forehead- that woke him up.

His yellow eyes opened abruptly-but when he felt it was you, he closed them once more. The next time he opened them, his eyes were the cerulean blue you had been chasing since the first time you saw them.

He let his guard down when he was with you.

You smiled at the man and gave him another peck. You pressurized the chamber so that he could be without the uncomfortable mask.

Gently you lifted his head and took the hard device off of his face.

“Vader, I have your arm ports and arms ready for you- The arm’s are just temporary, but I assumed you’d rather have some for now instead of none at all,” you explained softly.

He gave you a long blink to indicate his agreement before his brow bone furrowed and looked towards the cold table that stood in the harsh lighting only a few feet away.

“We do have to go there so that the doids can remove your warped ports” you said solemnly.

You knew he hated procedures, but he also knew they were a necessity. His chest rose and fell before he indicated he was ready.

“I could carry you over- or I can get the transpor-”

“Transport” his voice rang through the force.

You figured so.

He wasn’t quite comfortable being that vulnerable and you could understand that. You nodded, started up the pod, and left the room so he could complete the transfer in peace.

You felt the vibrations when he called for your return and promptly entered once more.

Vader was now lying uncomfortably on the sterile silver table; only his boxers covered his lower half. You stepped into the light and took out the tools that would be used to remove his broken ports.

This too had two options; you could take them off of him quicker than a droid could, but then you would be the one causing him pain- or it could take longer and hurt more, but a droid would be doing it.

Vader also knew this and could sense your dilemma.

You.

You sucked in a breath- you really didn’t want to do this, but it would cause him less pain (even if it didn’t seem to).

You shakily nodded and picked up the instrument that would be used to pry off his damaged port.

The process was simple, use a small beam to cut around the port to loosen it up and then use an instrument to pry the warped metal off.

The beam would be painful without numbing medicine (which Palpatine removed all of…), so Vader would have to endure the pain full throttle. Once again you cursed the pale man.

Thankfully you had a spur of the moment idea- you called for a small droid to collect some snow and ice from the banks of Hoth (where you were still stationed).

Vader looked at you curiously.

“There’s no numbing cream here and I don’t want you to feel the sting so I’m going to numb your arm with ice water”.

His eyes widened and he managed a small smile, “Thank you”

You nodded, “Of course, but it will be uncomfortable to put your arm in the water” you explained to which he simply nodded.

Once the droid returned and you prepared the ice bath, you helped Vader to the edge of the table so that you could submerge his stump.

“On three; one, two, three…” you counted before pushing his warped ligament into the freezing water.

His body lurched and he gasped as the frigid sensation coarse through his arm. You bit your lip to steady yourself, his arm needed to stay completely submerged for the numbing to work.

“I’m sorry V” you said as his muscles twitched all over his scarred body.

Soon time was up and you quickly pulled out his arm, dried it off, and grabbed the precision laser. You put on some goggles and began to outline the end of his stump. As you rounded the port you could smell a mix of heated metal and flesh.

Even so often you glanced up to see his face, thankfully he really had no reaction and nothing in his force signature indicated pain- your method was working.

The port was completely cut and you began to pry it off. You hated the feeling of his skin being used as leverage to pull his cybernetic part off.

Once the metallic connector was off, his stump was simply irritated, scarred flesh with screw slots to hold his ports in place.

His stump was warm to the touch so you decided to cool him in water once more (just to be safe).

In only a few more minutes his new port was secured and you helped put his temporary prosthetic on.

He tested the limb with great relief.

“Was that ok?” you asked worriedly.

He nodded and caressed your cheek with his new arm; to which you leaned over the table to kiss him.

________________________

You finished up the other arm before you stopped for the day- he didn’t really need his legs done until tomorrow and you weren’t going to be able to do those since they were literally welded into his flesh from how close he was to the lava.

So once you cleaned everything up, and got him back into bed, you took your seat once more. Your eyes felt heavy as you sat back in the stiff chair; just as you were drifting off to sleep you heard a weak voice.

Was that Vader?

No- it wasn’t the normal modulated voice you had come to love, but it also wasn’t the familiar voice of his force signature.

“W-wil you…”

There it was again! You promptly rose to your feet and surveyed the dark room.

“Who’s there?” you demanded.

Soon you felt a weak pull towards Vader’s bed… it was him- it was his voice.

You knelt by his bedside and took a metallic hand in yours. Never had he sounded so weak.

His vocal chords were completely damaged, he could barely speak above a whisper, and it sounded painful to speak.

“P-please..” he attempted before a coughing fit attacked him.

You brushed his face and cooed, “shh-shh, Don’t speak- I’m right here. It’s ok”.

He swallowed with great effort before conveying his request, “Lie with m-me… Please-”.

“Are you sure, I don’t wanna worsen your injuries-”

He shook his head and beckoned you once more. Looking at his desperate face, how could you refuse. Carefully you lifted the covers and entered the bed with caution; once you were under the covers he quickly pulled you closer to him, making you gasp.

Once the shock wore off, you relaxed in his arms and began to drift off.

_________________________

Vader’s burns stung with every movement, but nothing could stop him from hugging you close.

He wanted nothing more than to stay with you like this forever.

He was exhausted, but somehow having you here kept him invigorated.

He found himself pressing his scarred lips to your temple as you dozed off in his mechanical arms. Once you were fast asleep, he couldn’t pull his gaze away from your beautiful face.

Maker… What were you doing to him?

He was falling in love-

No, he was in love.

Everything about you lit up his world; your smile, your sweet voice, your soft touch, your intelligence, your passion… just you.

He could imagine a future where you and him ruled the galaxy, side by side.

One where the two of you left everything behind and completely started over.

Either way he knew he would be happy because he knew that as long as he was with you, everything would be alright.

***

a/n: i love love love whump :) as u can see hahah- i hope this chapter was good and sorry again for the delay 😭 thanks for the support:)

taglist: @vadersassistant @sxoulohvn @khaleesihavilliard @kashasenpai @darling-murdock @beautifulbearpolice @salvatoresister1 @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @blueninjablade3 @jujuba096 @missmannequin @jellydodger @mirastark @wyvernthekriger r @duckyhowls @monada43 @lauriidoesstuff @vienettacream @ray-rook @itswhatever06 @ilovenielperry

#darth vader #darth vader x reader #anakin x reader #vader #sw darth vader #anakin #star wars #darth vader fic #star wars x reader #anakin x you #darth vader fanfic #vader fanfic #vader star wars #darth vader x y/n #star wars darth vader #darth vader x you #allow me

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storiesofsvu · 4 months

Text

Solace in Solitude Ch 12

Emily Prentiss x reader Warnings: language, alcohol, canon typical conversation, smut. This ch feels a little it jumpy, partially because it is, partially because of how it needed to be. Each of the breaks represent a time jump, just little pieces of our girls lives while they figure out how to go about it. Two to three chapters left until this series is finally done with!

“Fuck…” Emily muttered with a small huff, flipping the cover to her iPad closed before she gently tossed it onto the coffee table.

“You good?” You asked, glancing between the television and her.

“Yeah, just lost another round of scrabble.”

“Cheeto breath’s the blonde, right?” You asked, redirecting your attention towards her as you picked up your glass of wine.

“JJ.. yeah..” Emily’s eyes drifted out the window for a moment, reminiscing about her memories with Jayje over the years.

“I take it you two were good friends?”

“Yeah.” She cast you a small smile.

“You know… you are allowed to talk about them.”

“I know.” Emily sighed softly, picking up her own drink, “it just almost feels surreal now. Like that part of my life was some kind of fever dream, the years between Doyle were reality but the way things worked out it almost seems like the fake memories were it, not the time with him.”

“Did you go straight from that undercover gig to your team?” You asked your brow furrowing.

“Basically.” She laughed, the grin staying on her face, “a few months to recuperate, make sure all the loose ends were tied.”

“How does that work on a resume? I mean, you can’t exactly put an entire fake identity on there.”

Emily laughed again, taking a bigger swig of her drink while she mulled over the entire topic, “the bureau and international teams have their way of covering things up. It wasn’t really me who did all that, it was Lauren, so Emily Prentiss came off a desk job, well recommended to the BAU.”

“And they believed that?” You raised a brow in her direction. It didn’t take a federal agent to notice the way Emily behaved, the little things she picked up on that made her seem like someone with extensive experience.

“Everyone had their walls up, they weren’t ready for a replacement on the team yet, it wasn’t exactly welcoming. Not to mention Hotch seemed to have it in for me, thinking my mother had swindled the job for me.”

“Hmm.” You replied over the rim of your wine glass, “it didn’t stay like that though?”

“No.” She smiled softly, “they became family. I spent more time with them than anyone else in my life, we all did, even outside of work. If I wanted to have a girls night I knew JJ and Penelope would always say yes, Derek was never going to decline a visit to the gym or shooting range, Rossi was always dying to teach someone his latest recipe…..” She trailed off, her eyes slowly misting with tears as she thought about how likely it was that all of that continued despite her absence, how they were all coping with her death, with their grief while she tried to figure out her own on the opposite side of the world with only one person by her side. “We were all a better family to each other than our own ever could have been.”

“They sound amazing.” Your hand reached out, squeezing at her elbow and she cast you a grin.

“They are.”

“So aside from being a total bad ass federal agent chasing down serial killers, what is it exactly that your unit does?”

“Behavioural Analysis, it’s more psychology based, figuring out trends, triggers, history, patterns, geographical locations,” she waved her hand with each statement, “putting it all together to figure out who our unsub is.”

“That’s honestly really neat. I kinda wish hospitals had people on staff to help with that kind of stuff.”

“Yeah.” She laughed, “me too.”

***

Thick flakes of snow were drifting down through the air, coating the city in a fluffy white blanket, which meant going nowhere. Emily crossed her arms over her chest, letting out a huff as she looked out the balcony window. The temperature had been decreasing daily and she was getting pent up, cabin fever increasing and had been hoping to get out of the house this weekend.

“You okay?” You asked from your spot in the kitchen, packing up leftovers to toss in the fridge before pouring out a couple fresh glasses of wine.

“I’m bored.” She practically whined, turning around to face you, “if I have to watch another episode of The Bachelor I will blow my brains out.”

“Okay…” you laughed, picking up the wine to move back into the living room, handing her her glass. “You have anything else in mind? New show, game?”

She chewed on her lip, eyes darting around the room while she tried to find something to entertain her and you knew you were in trouble when they shot back up to you with that dangerous glimmer in them. “How about poker?”

“We’ve played every night this week, you think that’s gonna cure this?” You asked, grabbing the deck of cards from behind you before you settled on the couch.

“How about we up the stakes?”

“What? Play for real money?” You asked with a laugh, nearly gulping at the look she gave you in return.

“Or… we could make it strip poker?” She offered with a wild grin and you couldn’t help but roll you eyes.

“Fine.” You started to deal the cards out, “but you better take it easy on me, we all know you’re the poker champ.”

Emily in fact, did not take it easy on you.

It didn’t help that the cold bothered her more, her body aching at the temperatures meant she was bundled up, thick socks, leggings, tank top, thin pullover, hoodie. You preferred cool temperatures, meaning you were already down to just a pair of lace panties while she still had pants and a bra on.

“This is not fair.” You grumbled, letting out a little shiver as you crossed your arms over your chest and she laughed, draining the last of her drink. “You were wearing so many more clothes than me.”

“Sounds like someone’s a poor loser.” She chuckled, the cards in her hand finding home on the coffee table as she shifted toward you on the couch, “but I’m pretty sure I can make it up to you…”

You let out a small laugh as she caged you into the couch, your back hitting the arm in the same moment her lips hit your neck and you were suddenly out of complaints. Her hands toyed with your chest, groping and pinching at you, her lips smirking up into a grin as your hips rutted up against hers. It only took a few moments before her hand was sneaking into your panties, gently rubbing at your clit.

“Fuck…” You muttered, your head dropping back against the couch, eyes fluttering shut as her mouth wrapped around your nipple.

Your moans became louder when her fingers slipped into your pussy, twisting and curling just where you needed them. Emily’s breath hot on your neck, her teeth scraping against your skin as you fluttered around her, whimpers leaving your lips as she toyed with you, getting louder and louder until you hit your peak and losing a poker game was the furthest thing from your mind.

***

Emily let the apartment door swing shut behind her, flicking the lock before dropping the bag of groceries on the counter. After hanging up her coat and kicking off her boots her eyes finally swept through the living room, her head tilting when her gaze landed on you. You were perched in your usual corner of the couch, fuzzy blanket over your lap, mug of coffee in your hand but instead of staring at the television, your gaze as focussed on the corner of the room. She watched you for a couple of minutes, wondering if you were just zoned out, off on some tangent of medical language in your brain but you didn’t even blink to notice that she’d even come home.

“Okay you’re freaking me out. This is like when your cat is staring at the wall and the only explanation is a ghost.”

“Should we get a tree?” Your head titled to the side but your gaze remained in the corner.

“Uh… what?” She asked, laughing awkwardly and you finally looked over to her.

“For Christmas.” You explained, eyes sweeping through the living room, “every where’s all decorated, lights, garland, trees, I could do without the Christmas music at the hospital constantly but it’s a little drab in here, don’t ya think?”

“And you want a tree?”

“Not a real one,” your nose scrunched, “too much work, and it doesn’t have to be a big one, a mini one, just some lights to make it a little festive in here.”

Emily crossed through the living room, dropping down onto the other side of the couch as she looked through the apartment, “you’re right. We should decorate, even just a little, make it feel more homey in here.”

“Yeah?” You looked up at her and she couldn’t help but smile at the excitement in your eyes.

“Yeah.” She squeezed at your leg through the blanket, “we watch enough tv as is, we could be marathoning Christmas movies. I picked up hot chocolate,” she nodded toward the grocery bag.

“Now that, sounds like a festive night.”

“After decorating though.” She grinned and you raised a brow, “there’s so many little celebrations going on out there.” She gestured toward the window, “I walked past two separate Christmas markets today, we should go check them out, pick up some stuff for the apartment, maybe some treats.”

“You wanna go now?”

“Well I was gonna make baked ziti for dinner, but that could wait cause I have a feeling you really love Christmas.”

“Yeah…” you nearly winced with a small smile on your face and Emily laughed.

“Well c’mon.”

Five hours later the two of you were curled up under the same blanket on the couch while The Holiday played on the television. Empty pasta plates sat on the coffee table and mugs of steaming hot chocolate spiked with Baileys were cupped in your hands. Multi coloured lights from the tree and the tops of the wall cast a warm glow throughout the apartment, the smell of gingerbread wafting from a candle burning on the kitchen island.

“You were right.” Emily mumbled “this is much better. I guess I forgot how just how nice actually embracing the holidays can feel.”

“Oh really?” You glanced up at her with a small grin and she raised a brow in your direction.

“What?”

“I’m just saying, I saw an ad for a really cool looking ice sculpture festival next weekend.”

She laughed, nudging your shoulder with hers as she shook her head at you, “alright, fine. It’s not like I have much else to do anyways.”

“Exactly.” You settled back into the couch with a satisfied sigh, “though we need to get some presents for under the tree.”

***

“If you don’t hurry up, you’re gonna miss the countdown!” Emily shouted over her shoulder, puling her sweater tighter over her shoulders, her eyes sweeping through the stars sparkling in the night sky. A dreamy look on her face, no doubt partially thanks to the bubbly the two of you had been drinking since dinner.

“I know, I know!” You scoffed back, hurrying back onto the balcony and handing her a flute, “but you absolutely cannot start a new year without champagne, and this is legit champagne.”

“Classy.” She replied with a laugh when she took the glass from you.

The streets below you were filled with laughter, cheers and the general sound of celebration as midnight ticked closer and closer. You shivered and Emily tugged you closer to her, her arm linking into yours as smiles broke out on both of your cheeks while you joined in on the countdown echoing from the street below. The clock hit twelve and choruses of ‘Happy New Year’ and cheers bounced through the air as the two of you clinked your glasses together and took a swig of your drinks fireworks exploding in the sky above you.

“What?” You asked when Emily swiped your glass, putting it along with hers down on the small table.

“C’mere.” She tugged you to her, “you can’t not have a new year’s kiss.”

Her arm wound around your waist, lips meeting yours tenderly, moving with grace against each other as your arms wrapped around her shoulders. Her tongue slipped into your mouth and you let out a happy sigh into the kiss.

“You know, you’re really good at this.” She murmured, lips curving into a grin and you chuckled.

“I’m good at a lot of other things too.” The smirk on your lips pulled a laugh from Emily.

“I like this.” She replied, stepping backwards and you let out a squeal when she pulled you down onto the couch behind her, your legs settling around her hips as she adjusted you on her lap, her lips meeting yours once again.

The kiss was full of little laughs, happy breaths, satisfied sighs as you held each other tighter to combat the chilliness of the now January night air. You could only hope that if this was how you were starting the year off that it would end up being a better one overall than the last.

***

Emily was in the kitchen scrounging up what she could for dinner out of leftovers when you finally emerged from your bedroom. You glanced up to her with a happy smile,

“I take it the meeting went well?” She asked.

“Yeah. The hospital wants to fly me out for a couple of consults on Tuesday.”

“That’s amazing!”

“You’re good then..” your brow scrunched, “like… if I take off for a few days? It feels weird to leave you… unsupervised, for lack of a better word.”

Emily barked out a laugh, “I’ll be fine, I’m sure I can handle a few days on my own. You go save some lives.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged, “you’ve cleared me, the shrink has my med load decreased, I was cleared at the beginning of the month by PT to up my workouts. Hate to break it to ya, but you’ve been downgraded from babysitter to roommate at this point.”

“Okay, okay.” You laughed, sliding onto a stool at the island.

“I’m guessing this is the same research you’ve been working on?”

“Yeah, finally found the right place with the right fit and resources.”

“So you’re moving then?”

“God no, I don’t even know if there’s an actual job available. They might just want my research, might offer me a grant to keep working here, fly me in when needed. I could probably do ninety percent of it over Skype, it’s all about collaboration at this stage.”

“Well whatever happens I hope it’s good.”

“Me too.”

While Emily did actually enjoy her solo time in the apartment, she found it feeling just a little strange. Knowing that you weren’t coming home those nights, that noise out in the hallway were just the neighbours making their way to their own apartments. That she wasn’t waiting for you before starting dinner, she could eat whenever she wanted and that there was no one to start the coffee for her in the morning. Your absence was felt, even if you were still keeping in touch over text the three days you were gone.

It was barely noon and there was already a sense of urgency shooting through the apartment as you practically jumped out of your bedroom into the living room.

“Em!?”

It wasn’t even a second later that she came barrelling out of her room, duffle over her shoulder, still open so she could grab her phone charger and tablet from the kitchen island to shove into it.

“I, uh.. I think I need to go.”

“What?” You asked and she stalled suddenly,

“The guardian I had for Declan, he just called me. Declan tried to call him, there’s something going on, I need to get back stateside.” She took a deep breath, feeling the jitters in her chest starting as her pulse started to race, “oh god…” She suddenly dropped to a squat, her elbows on her knees so she could bury her face in her hands, “I really didn’t think this was gonna happen so quick.”

“Em…” you stepped toward her, a hand resting on her shoulder, squeezing softly and she was able to take another deep breath, calming her racing heart enough to bring herself up to standing and you could see the misting in her eyes.

“I… I know you’re not my therapist or anything, but you have honestly been the closest person since we got here, and I… I don’t know if I’m ready to go back.”

“If Declan needs you…”

“What if this is some kind of trap? What if Ian got to Tom, and this is just a fucking set up?” She ran a hand over her face, turning back to you, “sorry, I’m freaking out. You were gonna say something when I first came out.”

“Yeah,” you smiled, “you don’t have to worry about Ian. Your team has him.”

“What?” Her eyes widened and you gestured to your phone in your hand.

“Hotch called; they want you back to help break him.” Reaching out you squeezed at her wrist, “you’re ready. They need you, the real you... you get to be yourself again.”

Emily couldn't help the warmth flowing through her at the thought of that, at getting to return to her real life after all this time. “And you what, keep playing pretend here?”

“No.” You laughed, “actually right before Hotch called, St Thomas’ called…there was a job and they just offered it to me. I move to London at the end of the month.”

“Oh my god, that’s amazing.” A smile burst out on her face and she pulled you into a tight hug until you were nudging her away.

“You need to go.” You practically laughed, “there’s a jet waiting for you, a car will pick you up on the other end.”

“Fuck, right.” She quickly zipped up her bag, double checking that she had everything she needed.

“Text me if you’re missing anything crucial and I’ll ship it out.”

“You’re a lifesaver.” She paused, looking up at you with genuine gratitude written across her face, “and I mean that, both literally and figuratively. Thank you, for everything.” Stepping toward you she wrapped an arm around your shoulders, placing a kiss on your cheek before she stepped away.

“Yeah well, you can pay it back to me by not ruining all my hard work in your first day back in the field, okay?”

“Absolutely.”

“Stay safe.” You warned her and she cast a smile back to you while she opened the door.

“I will. And don’t be a stranger.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

_________________

@momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @its-soph-xx @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @peanutbutterprincess @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @happenstnces @sapphicprentiss @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @niyizh @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @romanoffsho @ratsnestinmyhair @assgardangod @hopedoesntknow @dj-bynum3718 @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx @lesbodietcoke @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak xnovak

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #solace in solitude #emily prentiss series

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kurticus · 2 years

Text

Monitor Duty Company

“So I have been meaning to ask, what exactly are you?”

Danny was floating through the open space of the Watchtower bridge. Idly tossing a fist sized red bouncy ball with a yellow lightning bolt pattern off of the gray metal walls. The question came from the red speedster, Flash, who was lounging in the central chair of the room with his feet propped up on the control panel. Supposedly Flash was watching those monitors. But despite this being the third time Danny had visited the space station, he’d never seen Flash monitor anything. He just made conversation and told stories that Danny could not decide if he believed or not.

The question caught Danny as he sent the ball flying. He fumbled and twisted upside down as he barely caught the ball on its return. Nervously he straightened and replied, “What am I? Uh. Kind of a deep question isn’t it?”

Flash waved his hand dismissively. “I mean the ghosty stuff. Not really my area of expertise. But you don’t strike me as a ghost.”

“Ha. Not ghostly enough for you?” Danny put his hands over his head and made his eyes glow. “Am I not spooky enough?” He waggled his fingers for extra effect.

In a blur Flash was standing next to him, giving Danny an over the top examination. Half bowing as he hummed in consideration. Then in an instant he was back in his chair spinning slightly. “Nope. Kid you don’t seem like a ghost at all.”

Danny let gravity find him again and drifted back to the floor with a light thump. He stood up straight and eyed a glance at his reflection in one of the grand windows of the space station. His hair was still white and he radiated a soft glow. Slightly annoyed, he asked, “What do you mean?”

“I have met ghosts. Sometimes they seem like normal people. Sometimes they are invisible voices that try to creep you out. Sometimes they turn into monsters and throw cars at you. Heck we have a part-time leaguer named Deadman. Nobody can see him at all until he decides to take over someone's body. I’ve never seen a ghost shoot lasers or make glowing shields like you do.”

Suddenly a pencil eraser from somewhere on the nearby desk bounced off Danny’s face. Danny flinched and rubbed where he’d been hit. “Ow, stop that!” Looking back he saw Flash toying with a pencil innocently.

“Besides,” Flash continued, pointing the pencil at the ghost boy, “You are solid. Lots of spooky things have to work to be solid. You default to it. You gotta choose to go through stuff like J’on does. So I figure, not a ghost. Am I right?”

“Well, I am a ghost.” Danny tossed the ball back to the speedster. “But that is kind of a blanket term that gets complicated fast. Lots of things call themselves ghosts. Technically speaking, I am an Ecto-Entity.” Danny pronounced this with formality and a stiff back. Thinking of the way his parents said it. “Also more politely known as a Ghost of the Infinite Realms.”

“Infinite Realms huh? Sounds spacious.”

“You have no idea.” Danny picked his foot up and tucked it under himself. Then slipping past gravity he pulled the other foot up so he was sitting on nothing with crossed legs. Drifting slightly he continued. “Also called the ghost zone, it is an endless dimension of energy and emotion that exists in the shadow of reality. Basically emotions and memories from this world can imprint on the energy of the ghost zone. Then that energy forms stuff like me.”

“So,” Flash smiled. “Just to be clear, you aren’t some creature that escaped from Hell to haunt the living?”

Danny flashed a crooked smile and shifted his eyes to a bright frost blue. “Keep the jokes up, I know how well you handle iced floors.” Still drifting lightly while sitting in air, Danny softly blew air at Flash. Dusting him is a light coating of frost and snow.

“Cute.” Flash shivered slightly and brushed a few snowflakes from his shoulders. “So not the exorcism, don’t go into the light kind of ghost?”

Danny thought back to the flash of pain and light from the accident. “Uh, well… There can be some overlap…”

**************************************************************

This conversation takes place after Danny has worked with the Justice League a few times and built some trust. Flash, after learning of his love for space, invites him to spend time at the watchtower. Giving him someone to talk to during his shifts on monitor duty.

I haven't written much myself, but there have been so many great posts lately about Danny interacting with the DCU. I might have to start my take as well.

Plus the question of how the lore interacts between the different shows is really compelling to me.

Let me know what you think. I haven't written much so I am sure there are plenty of pointers I could use. Hit me.

#danny phantom #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp #Flash #dc comics #Dcau #fanficiton #Danny phantom crossover #dp fic

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acurlygirlamy1 · 5 months

Text

DIARY OF A SNOW SHOVELER:

Moved to North Dakota this fall. We heard that summers are fun and winter is beautiful. We think there is no more beautiful a place in the whole world!

December 8 - 6:00 PM It started to snow. The first snow of the season and the wife and I took our cocktails and sat for hours by the window watching the huge soft flakes drift down from heaven. It looked like a Grandma Moses print. So romantic, we felt like newlyweds again. I love snow!

December 9 - We woke to a beautiful blanket of crystal white snow covering every inch of the landscape. What a fantastic sight! Can there be a more lovely place in the whole world? Moving here was the best idea I've ever had! Shoveled for the first time in years and felt like a boy again. I did both our driveway and the sidewalks.

This afternoon the snowplow came along and covered up the sidewalks and closed in the driveway, so I got to shovel again. What a perfect life!

December 12 - The sun has melted all our lovely snow. Such a disappointment! My neighbor tells me not to worry- we'll definitely have a white Christmas. No snow on Christmas would be awful! Bob says we'll have so much snow by the end of winter, that I'll never want to see snow again. I don't think that's possible. Bob is such a nice man, I'm glad he's our neighbor.

December 14 - Snow, lovely snow! 8 inches last night. The temperature dropped to -20. The cold makes everything sparkle so. The wind took my breath away, but I warmed up by shoveling the driveway and sidewalks. This is the life! The snowplow came back this afternoon and buried everything again. I didn't realize I would have to do quite this much shoveling, but I'll certainly get back in shape this way. I wish I wouldn't huff and puff so.

December 15 - 20 inches forecast. Sold my van and bought a 4x4 Blazer. Bought snow tires for the wife's car and 2 extra shovels. Stocked the freezer. The wife wants a wood stove in case the electricity goes out. I think that's silly. We aren't in Alaska, after all.

December 16 - Ice storm this morning. Fell on my ass on the ice in the driveway putting down salt. Hurt like hell. The wife laughed for an hour, which I think was very cruel.

December 17 - Still way below freezing. Roads are too icy to go anywhere. Electricity was off for 5 hours. I had to pile the blankets on to stay warm. Nothing to do but stare at the wife and try not to irritate her. Guess I should've bought a wood stove, but won't admit it to her. God! I hate it when she's right. I can't believe I'm freezing to death in my own living room.

December 20 - Electricity's back on, but had another 14 inches of the damn stuff last night. More shoveling! Took all day. The damn snowplow came by twice. Tried to find a neighbor kid to shovel, but. they said they're too busy playing hockey. I think they're lying. Called the only hardware store around to see about buying a snow blower and they're out. Might have another shipment in March. I think they're lying. Bob says I have to shovel or the city will have it done and bill me. I think he's lying.

December 22 - Bob was right about a white Christmas because 13 more inches of the white shit fell today, and it's so cold, it probably won't melt till August. Took me 45 minutes to get all dressed up to go out to shovel and then I had to piss. By the time I got undressed, pissed and dressed again, I was too tired to shovel. Tried to hire Bob-who has a plow on his truck-for the rest of the winter, but he says he's too busy. I think the asshole is lying.

December 23 - Only 2 inches of snow today. And it warmed up to 0. The wife wanted me to decorate the front of the house this morning. What is she, nuts?!! Why didn't she tell me to do that a month ago. She says she did but I think she's lying.

December 24 - 6 inches - Snow packed so hard by snowplow, l broke the shovel. Thought I was having a heart attack. If I ever catch the son of a bitch who drives that snow plow, I'll drag him through the snow by his balls and beat him to death with my broken shovel. I know he hides around the corner and waits for me to finish shoveling, and then he comes down the street...at a 100 miles an hour and throws snow all over where I've just been! Tonight the wife wanted me to sing Christmas carols with her and open our presents...but I was too busy watching for the damn snowplow.

December 25 - Merry f---ing Christmas! 20 more inches of the damn slop tonight - snowed in. The idea of shoveling makes my blood boil. God, I hate the snow! Then the snowplow driver came by asking for a donation and I hit him over the head with my shovel. The wife says I have a bad attitude. I think she's a fricking idiot. If I have to watch "It's A Wonderful Life" one more time, I'm going to feed her through a chipper shredder.

December 26 - Still snowed in. Why the hell did I ever move here? It was all HER idea. She's really getting on my nerves.

December 27 - Temperature dropped to -30 and the pipes froze; plumber came after 14 hours of waiting for him, he only charged me $4,400 to replace all my pipes.

December 28 - Warmed up to above -20. Still snowed in. The BITCH is driving me crazy!!!

December 29 - 10 more inches. Bob says I have to shovel the roof or it could cave in. That's the silliest thing I ever heard. How dumb does he think I am?

December 30 - Roof caved in. I beat up the snow plow driver, and now he is suing me for a million dollars, not only for the beating I gave him, but also for trying to shove the broken snow shovel up his ass. The wife went home to her mother. Nine more inches predicted.

December 31 - I set fire to what's left of the house. No more shoveling.

January 8 - Feel so good. I just love those little white pills they keep giving me. Why am I tied to the bed ???

-Author Unknown

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cecilysass · 2 months

Text

Shine On (10/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 10: None for You

Farrs Corner, Virginia February 23, 2015 6:50 am

Jackson wakes up and slides out of the twin bed, creeping over to peer out the guest room window.

Outside the light is strange and silver, sunrise filtered through the gunmetal gray of clouds overhead. Jackson’s eyes roam over the dim, silent farmland adjacent to Mulder’s property. He thinks it looks cold out, like it could even snow.

He goes to the pile of old clothes Mulder set out for him and paws through each item, looking for something practical and warm. He selects the jeans he wore yesterday, a long sleeve waffle weave shirt, and a striped sweater that looks from a different era, like it belongs to a Friends cast member or something. Again the sleeves are too long, completely covering his hands. He decides that will help keep him warmer.

As he sits on the bed tying his shoes, he listens closely for sounds in the house: first with his ears, then more carefully with his shine.

He’s pretty sure Scully slept downstairs last night. After Jackson came up to his room, he’d read ghost stories in bed for a while, studiously ignoring both of them. He just needed a break. No more questions, no more pressure.

But he felt these little wafts of emotions drifting up from time to time anyway. Later, after he heard Mulder come up the stairs, he still sensed that ember of Scully’s emotions glowing somewhere down there beneath the floorboards. He doesn’t think she ever left the first floor.

He stands up, shoes tied, considering his next move.

He decides to do the thing they do in movies: stuff some pillows in the twin bed, then throw the quilt over and shape the lumps so it looks like he is curled up underneath. He thinks he does a pretty convincing job. If someone looked in the door to the room, it would really look like he were asleep there.

Next he closes his eyes, clears his head, makes sure he’s alert to all the minds around him. He discovers Mulder is awake but still lying in bed, so he gently alters Mulder’s perception to make sure he’ll hear no footsteps on the stairs.

He reaches out to try to do the same to Scully, but he has trouble for some reason. When he sneaks out of his room and down the stairs, he sees why. As soon as he sets foot on the first floor, he can tell she is still asleep on the couch.

Hopefully she doesn’t wake up easily. Just in case, he has an altered image ready to shine in her mind: an impression that the room is empty and silent, that there is no one else there.

He tiptoes across the floor to stand behind the couch and glance down at her. This stranger, his biological mother, completely lost to sleep. Her face is crushed into the pillow, and her breathing is regular.

As he watches her, his shine unexpectedly picks up a strange image: she is lost in a snowstorm, blinding white, crying out for help, calling Mulder’s name, her abdomen swollen in pregnancy. Something snakelike is down her throat, keeping her from breathing properly.

Her lips twitch slightly in sleep as he stands there.

He blinks, shudders, clearing his mind of the picture. Disturbing dream. He wonders if any part of it really happened.

Trying to ignore any other images coming his way, he heads towards the front door. Mulder’s puffy winter coat is there, and he picks it up, pulling it around each of his arms without fastening it. It, too, is too big. Then he opens the latch, cracks the door, and slips outside.

Outside, the early morning cold nips at his face right away. Ghostly traces of fog linger around the house and in between trees. The ground glitters with frost. Each puff of breath curls out from his mouth, and he slips his hands into the deep pockets of Mulder’s coat.

He makes his way around the side of the little house, the ice-coated grass crunching underfoot. He’s aiming for the clump of trees near the back of Mulder’s property. Those trees grow in a tight knot, and whatever lies inside of them is dark with shadows.

He hesitates, squints, looking for any sign of anyone standing near the trees. All at once Jackson feels nervous.

He thinks about the man who came after them yesterday. What if someone unexpected is out here, waiting and watching? Someone who knows Jackson is out here, someone who is tracking his moves? Mulder and Scully had been so panicked about getting him inside. He remembers that sharp spiky thing Mulder had. Maybe he should have brought that with him, although he can’t imagine what he would have done with it.

Instantly, instinctively, he closes his eyes and stretches out with his shine to check around him. He can find no one else around, no people nearby at all, except for the muted minds of Scully and Mulder inside the house. Scully’s still asleep; Mulder’s pondering his life choices quietly in bed.

But he hadn’t shined that man’s mind yesterday either, had he? Nor had he ever been able to shine Rose.

He can’t shine Rose this time, either.

As he walks into the heart of the trees, she is standing inside, half obscured in purple shadow. She’s wearing a sleek black coat and black boots, like she has dressed not to be seen. She has a gray scarf over her mouth that she pulls down when she sees him.

He’s really happy to see her, as weird and slightly scary as she is. He raises his hand and smiles, but she only takes a single step towards him, her face calm and eyes unblinking.

“Hi, Jackson,” she says.

***

Even though Rose doesn’t say much, there is something about her that makes her easy for him to talk to. Jackson wants to tell her everything, and she listens, in that cool, serious way she has.

“So your problem is Dana?” she says, tilting her head in consideration.

“She herself isn’t the problem, really. It’s just it hurts to be around her,” Jackson says. “Is there a way to stop it? To control the flow coming from her?”

“There is,” Rose says. “I can show you. She can do a few things to help, too, if you think she’s willing.”

Jackson heaves a sigh, relieved. “Good. I’m glad.”

“Are you doing okay? Otherwise?” The young woman’s face betrays no emotion, and her words are businesslike. Even though he’s spent time with Rose before, it still feels funny to Jackson not to be able to use his shine on her. Something like being blindfolded. He can’t get over not having any idea what she’s thinking.

“Yeah, I guess,” Jackson says. “I’m still messed up about my parents, but … I’m glad you took me to Mulder. If I hadn’t found him—them— I don’t know what would have happened.”

She smiles a closed-lip smile. “I knew it was a good idea.”

“How? How did you know that?”

“I told you. I’ve been keeping an eye on you for a long time.”

“Why?” He tries the most important questions again. “How do you know me? Who are you, exactly?”

She gives him a quizzical look. “I actually thought you’d inferred.”

Jackson shakes his head. “Nothing I can think of makes any sense.”

She says nothing, and her eyes focus away from him, full of some dark-edged emotion Jackson is relieved he can’t shine. In the days they’d traveled to Virginia from Wyoming, when she was showing him things about his shine in conversations at rest stops and on the balconies of motels, she often drifted off like this, just gazing off. As though she were lost in some private sadness.

“They want to know how I got here,” Jackson persists. “They’re worried. They keep asking. Can’t I tell them?”

“No,” she says, her tone final and decisive.

“I don’t understand,” Jackson says. “How come they don’t—”

“It’s very complicated, Jackson.”

“Where do you live? Is Rose your real name?” Jackson pushes. “Don’t you go to college or have a job or anything?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Rose says shortly, ignoring his questions. “And don’t say anything to them. Nothing. If you do, it will cause… problems. If you keep quiet, we can still meet on occasion, when I’m able. I can keep showing you how to control your shine.”

“But why? Why do you do this for me?”

“We’re family,” she says lightly, with a tinge of irony. “You do things for family. Or so I’m told.”

Jackson ponders this carefully. He can’t tell if she is being entirely serious. He knows she’s not related to the Van De Kamps, and their relatives didn’t tend to be the types to show up mysteriously with magical powers anyway. Even not having known his biological parents for very long, he suspects if she’s being sincere, she must be related to him through Mulder and Scully.

Actually, she looks like a younger version of Scully. That realization stuns him for a second, because it is suddenly so completely obvious he can’t believe he didn’t see it before. Rose is short, shorter than him. Her hair is lighter than Scully’s, but it’s reddish blonde. She has those pale blue eyes. And her voice, too—the way she speaks. It reminds him of Scully.

But Mulder had said they didn’t have other kids besides him. And Jackson didn’t detect any hint of a lie from him at that moment, nothing to indicate he was telling anything other than the truth. He seemed kind of sad about it, actually; there was that heaviness of regret in his thoughts. Nor could Jackson think of why he might lie about that.

Is it possible to have a kid and not know about it?

Rose presses her lips together and puts her hand on his arm. “Listen. When she’s near you, picture, like, a glass wall between you and her. It doesn’t have to be glass. Any translucent material. Visualize it and imagine her feelings bouncing off of it, not hitting you. When you get better at it, you can imagine her feelings staying within her own chest, never expanding out.”

Jackson is skeptical. “That’s it? Just picturing shit?”

“Picturing shit is the whole ball game,” she says wryly. “And it’s not easy. You’ll have to practice it. You’ll get better with time.”

“Is that what you do? To keep me from using my shine on you?”

“I don’t really have to,” Rose says, her tongue running over her bottom lip quickly. Her expression is cryptic. “There are things about me that aren’t like other people.”

Jackson scowls. “But you have it, too? The shine?” he asks curiously.

She nods shortly, but doesn’t elaborate. “Dana can also help from her end,” she adds. “She can visualize keeping her feelings within. Not radiating them outward. Really that’s something she does naturally anyway, so she should get it.”

“So you know her? Scully?”

“I met her once,” Rose says. Her face is completely still. “When I was a kid.”

“You’re related to her?”

Rose nods, and she looks down, seemingly to casually examine her nails. They’re painted dark red. Rose red, Jackson thinks.

“I don’t really get any of this,” Jackson says. He swallows. “But, I mean, if you’re their family, I’m sure they’d like to see you.”

“It’s not safe,” she says, looking up from her nails. He can’t be sure, in the dim light, but he thinks there could be tears in her eyes, which shocks him. Rose has never shown any sign of getting emotional before. She leans forward and embraces him, suddenly, which startles him, too. When she pulls back, she looks unruffled again, the only sign of her slip that her blue eyes are slightly wet. “So you be careful, too.”

What the fuck. He is too confused to answer properly.

She turns to walk away. “And yeah, Jackson,” she calls behind her, “you’re right. Rose didn’t used to be my name, like Jackson didn’t used to be yours. I chose the name Rose from an old song.”

There is a pause as Jackson waits for her to explain further. When she doesn’t—when she just begins to hurry into the woods—he just sighs in tired frustration, resigning himself to not knowing more.

But then she hesitates, ten feet away. Slowly she turns her icy eyes back to his.

As she does, the words of three perfectly formed sentences appear in his mind. The letters of each word slightly vibrate and jump around, but he reads them clearly, kind of like a computer screen or the titles of a movie.

Can’t you see? There’s nothing you can do. There’s loving everywhere but none for you.

The sentences send a chill through him that is unrelated to the cold morning.

“What the fuck does that mean?” he blurts out loud.

She just smiles slightly, mysteriously, and turns swiftly away towards the shadows.

***

Mulder pads down the stairs as quietly as he can, trying not to wake anyone else in the house up. At the foot of the stairs, he can hear hushed rhythmic breathing coming from the direction of the couch.

He follows the sounds and stands over the couch, letting himself look at her uninterrupted. Scully looks younger in sleep. Unguarded, like she did years ago when she’d routinely doze off against his shoulder on all those cross country flights. Like she’s got nothing to hide.

All morning he has been thinking about what happened last night, about the expression on her face as her lips touched his. The way her fingers trailed over his skin, each touch sending warm aches through him.

It was all exactly what he had hoped for. Practically an erotic dream come to life. The best possible thing that could have happened in his broken relationship with Scully: that she would reach out to him like that, tell him she missed him, kiss him with such need.

He would never have guessed he’d react like he did. Never. He’s been turning it over in his mind since he woke up.

On the couch Scully stirs a little in her sleep, and he fights with the urge to lean down and gently stroke her hair. Hold back until you’re sure, he reminds himself.

It was exactly her need that felt like the problem; it was exactly her need that worried him. He’d looked down at her, those wide and hungry blue eyes, and knew—just knew—that she would have walked away from him three days ago.

Because she doesn’t want just plain old sad sack Mulder, does she? She wants Mulder because he is Jackson’s biological father. Because Mulder can help her protect him. Because he is an important character in the all-consuming story of her baby, the son they lost.

And his failure in all of this—in doing a good job at any of it— is exactly why she stopped wanting him to begin with.

If they mess this up, if Jackson leaves, if he is taken from them, if they can’t protect him, if they aren’t good at this imitation parenting they’re doing… what will happen? Will that longing look in her eyes disappear? Will she revert back to polite and chilly small talk?

Much like hearing someone’s thoughts without wanting to, Mulder heard a sudden truth from his own mind: he won’t survive having and losing her again.

She murmurs something in her sleep, moving her lips soundlessly. Today is Scully’s birthday, Mulder remembers. He recalls what Jackson said, that she had been hoping he might be surprising her by taking her out. Maybe, Mulder thinks wistfully, that means she does have some interest in sad sack Mulder. Maybe there is some hope that he never entirely lost her love. But he doesn’t know that for sure. He doesn’t know anything about how she feels about this. He bites his lower lip, feeling as awkward as a teenager.

There is the squeak of a chair across the room, and Mulder looks up, suddenly on the alert.

Jackson is sitting at the kitchen table, wearing one of Mulder’s old sweaters, drinking a glass of water, and flipping through one of Mulder’s psychology texts. Strange. Mulder had not seen him there before. He scowls, puzzled, walking across the room to Jackson.

“Hey.” Mulder whispers. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Jackson says, looking up from the book. His cheeks are a little pink. Mulder wonders if it is the dry air.

“I didn’t know you were up,” Mulder says, keeping his voice lowered. “I somehow didn’t see you sitting there when I came downstairs.”

Jackson’s lips raise into a half smile. “Maybe you need some coffee.”

Mulder grins. “Yeah. Maybe so. Did you sleep well?”

“Sure,” Jackson says. His eyes drift uneasily across the room.

I didn’t leave anything out of place on his desk, did I?

The words land in Mulder’s mind like heavy rocks through a window, undeniable and painful. He has to force himself not to react—not to show his surprise on his face, and definitely not to look over at his desk. Keep busy in the kitchen, he tells himself. Start making coffee.

Mulder turns to get water for the coffee maker. As he does, he discreetly looks over towards his desk. It doesn’t look any different than usual at this distance. He needs to find a reason to go over there and inspect it more carefully.

As he’s pouring water into the coffee maker, he gets a sudden flash of a series of images from Jackson’s mind like some out of control slide show: the boy’s foot stepping on to the porch, his fingers latching the front door, Mulder’s winter coat slipping back on a hook.

Should be fine. Everything is back like it was.

Mulder feels an impact like a kick in the stomach. Jackson left the house. He actually went outside, despite the known danger. Why the fuck would he be outside? The idea that the boy is hiding something, something big, fills him with a sickening sense of betrayal he knows isn’t entirely logical.

And then as soon as he thinks it, he tries desperately not to think it. He can’t process it now. It’s too dangerous with Jackson here.

“What do you want for breakfast?” Mulder says casually, swallowing back the surge of nausea. “We have, uh, some bread. I think some oatmeal maybe?”

“You have eggs. I saw eggs yesterday,” Jackson says eagerly.

“You want eggs then?”

“I could make scrambled eggs,” Jackson offers. “I’m pretty good at that.”

Mulder widens his eyes. “All right,” he says. “If you’re sure.”

“Yeah,” Jackson says, looking pleased. “I’m sure. Let me make breakfast. I make eggs at home all the time.”

Mulder watches as the boy gets up and starts pulling out bowls and spatulas, clearly excited about the project. He doesn’t look like someone who is hiding a big secret. He looks, frankly, like a kid.

“Try not to wake Scully up,” Mulder says lightly.

Jackson just nods vigorously as if that were obvious, and Mulder steps back, arms folded, trying to seem relaxed.

“I’m going to go see if Skinner emailed us the forms he was supposed to,” Mulder says, gesturing to his desk. “Let me know if, uh, you can’t find something you need.”

Jackson nods again, but he stops and looks over in Mulder’s direction for a half second before he opens the fridge.

You closed his laptop, right?

Again Mulder wills himself not to react to this sentence. In a way he hopes is natural, he glances over at Scully on the couch, who blissfully sleeps through anything. Then he casually approaches his desk, his chest tight.

For a moment he stares hard at the laptop sitting on the desk. Jackson had, apparently, remembered to close it.

Mulder forces himself to breathe in and out, trying to clear his mind. He knows he needs to calm down. Jackson could pick up on a snippet of his thoughts at any moment.

Carefully he turns and watches Jackson’s back in the kitchen, watching for any sign to suggest Jackson is already aware of his discomfort. But Jackson’s cheerfully cracking eggs into the bowl.

He sits down at his desk and opens up the laptop. It is password-protected—Chilmark61—but the password is written pretty prominently in Mulder’s scrawling handwriting on an orange sticky note on the desk, which Mulder admits isn’t his finest security move. He can just imagine the lecture he would have gotten from Frohike. But it’s usually him alone here at the house, and he forgets passwords more than he probably should.

There is nothing strange opened on the computer, nothing seemingly out of order. He opens a browser window. Could this be as simple and straightforward as a 13-year old looking at porn? Please let it be that simple, Mulder thinks. Please let this be about busty naked ladies.

He looks at the browser history and sees a few pages accessed this morning, about fifteen minutes ago. Specifically a search engine and a song lyrics site.

Song lyrics don’t seem particularly nefarious. But still Mulder’s heart thumps distractingly loudly. He opens the search engine page in the history to see what Jackson was searching for.

In the search field he’d typed “can’t you see, there’s nothing you can do, there’s loving everywhere but none for you.”

Eerie melancholy creeps over Mulder. The lines don’t mean anything to him, but they definitely seem ominous. So sad, so hopeless. What do they mean to Jackson? What could be going on in the kid’s head?

The results for his search were all pretty much the same. The words were part of the lyrics of a 1968 song by a British band, the Zombies, “A Rose for Emily.” Mulder thinks he might vaguely remember the song, but not very well. It really doesn’t seem like a song a kid should know anything about.

He clicks on the same lyrics page that Jackson had visited and scans the song’s lyrics more systematically.

Her roses are fading now She keeps her pride somehow That's all she has protecting her from pain And as the years go by She will grow old and die The roses in her garden fade away Not one left for her grave Not a rose for Emily Emily, can't you see There's nothing you can do? There's loving everywhere But none for you

Something tightens and twists painfully in Mulder’s stomach, a symptom he recognizes as anxiety. Why would Jackson be looking for this?

It could be for a perfectly innocent reason. Maybe he remembered hearing it somewhere, on the radio or something, and he had a few of the lyrics rattling around in his mind. Maybe he googled it just to know what song it was. That happens to everyone sometimes, doesn’t it?

But why would he be so concerned with keeping it a secret? And what did this have to do with him leaving the house?

Mulder closes the browser window. He presses his eyes closed and folds his hands together, strategizing what exactly to do and say. He stands up and walks back towards the kitchen.

Immediately he can see that Jackson doesn’t look so cheerful anymore. He is actively scrambling eggs now, turning them over and over with the spatula. He’s staring down at his work with no expression, his face stone.

Mulder knows he’s been using his shine.

“You know,” Jackson says casually, “you could have asked me.”

Mulder watches the spatula move across the pan, scooping up eggs and flipping them over. He waits.

“Instead of checking browser histories and all,” Jackson adds bluntly. “You said you were going to trust me.”

Mulder sighs heavily. “You’ve not exactly been honest with us, Jackson.”

“I haven’t lied to you.” Jackson’s eyes flash up dangerously at him, his lips pursing in anger. He looks shockingly like Scully.

“You don’t think using your abilities to mislead me … is a kind of lying?” Mulder says. “Because that’s what I think you did this morning. To keep me from knowing you left the house. To keep me from realizing that you used my laptop.”

Jackson turns off the heat on the stove. His jaw sets; he looks at the food so he does not make eye contact. “Speaking of lying,” he says in a tight voice, “you told me you didn’t have a shine. Not for years. You told me you couldn’t read people’s thoughts or feelings.”

Mulder nods, running his hand over his mouth. “Yeah. I did say that. Because until recently, it was true.”

“Well, I can’t help but notice that you seem to have one now.”

“For exactly one person,” Mulder says. “Only for you. Not for anyone else.”

Jackson’s eyes shoot up to Mulder’s. “Seriously? You’re being serious?”

“I am,” Mulder admits.

“You only can shine me?” repeats Jackson. He sets down the spatula, his eyes growing round in horror.

“Yeah,” Mulder says. “But it’s not like I–”

“Stay out of my head,” Jackson warns, taking a step backwards. “Don’t use your shine on me, Mulder.”

“You know it doesn’t work like that,” Mulder says gently. “I can’t help it. I’m not doing it on purpose. And I’m only getting little pieces every once in a while, Jackson. I’m not exactly—”

“I can’t handle this.” Jackson puts his hands up over his face.

“I know you’re overwhelmed,” Mulder says. “But Jackson, this is important. Why did you leave the house? Why are you searching for these song lyrics? What do they mean? Why are they important?”

“God, I can’t tell you,” Jackson says. “I already said.”

Cold panic runs through Mulder. “So this is about the person who brought you here? Is that person still around? Are you in contact with them?”

Jackson groans, covering his ears, and walks to the kitchen door, looking out the window.

“What’s going on?” Scully’s voice startles Mulder, and he whirls around to see her. She is standing at the kitchen table, hair messy from sleep, arms folded tightly, eyes wide.

“I’ll explain in a minute,” Mulder says to her, holding his hand out, “I just want to—”

He’s interrupted by a clear broadcast from Jackson’s mind, warning words thought loud and clear.

Are you there? Mulder can read my thoughts. I don’t think I can hide you from him in my mind. I’m sorry.

This isn’t aimed at him, Mulder realizes queasily.

He stands there blinking, staring blankly at Scully, trying to comprehend what he just heard.

“Mulder?” Scully takes a step towards him, concerned.

He turns back to Jackson, who has backed up against the kitchen door. He’s wrapped his arms around himself, and he looks young and frightened in Mulder’s too-big sweater.

Whoever Jackson just tried to send a message to must also have a shine, Mulder realizes. Which means this person is someone Jackson can communicate with anywhere and any time. He suddenly feels dizzy and weak.

He needs to pull it together, fast, and consider his next move carefully.

“I’m going upstairs for a second,” Mulder says in a hoarse voice. “I–” He shakes his head. “Maybe I’ll go for a run or something. Leave you two to talk.”

Jackson is still watching him warily, his back against the kitchen door. He says nothing.

Scully’s sharp gaze snaps from Mulder to Jackson, then back again. “All right,” she says carefully. Her forehead is creased, revealing her confusion and worry. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” Mulder nods quickly.

“You’ll … let me know if you need something?”

“Yeah,” Mulder agrees roughly. “Of course. I just… I just need a minute.”

Feeling their eyes on him, he walks dazedly towards the stairs, each step suddenly feeling like an effort.

Partway up the stairs, he stops, gripping the handrail. He closes his eyes and summons all his will.

He’s not positive how to intentionally send a message out to someone unknown in the universe, but he’s sure going to try.

Whoever you are, he attempts to push out into the world. talk to me. Fucking talk to me. Let me know what you want with my kid. Let me fix whatever this is however I can. Come deal with me, face to face.

There. Done.

He walks up the stairs, feeling surprisingly like he’s done something significant. He needs to go put on warmer clothes if he’s going outside.

***

#xfiles fanfic #the x files #x files fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #x files #xf fanfic #msr #jackson van de kamp #x files revival

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