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todorokies · 2 months

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cherry blossoms, tarot cards & chamomile - suguru geto

contents: sfw, fluff, meet-cute at book store, fem!reader, strangers to potential lovers, mentions of curses & whatnot, tarot cards reading,, 1.5k words.

a/n: this one goes out to the hopeless romantics who wanna fall in love in a bookstore aka me (we hear & see you)

spring has sprung as one would say. the pale snow that covered the ground has melted away, which in turn allows the freshly cut grass to flourish.

cherry blossoms had recently littered the streets alongside the sidewalks, with each petal engaging in a unique twirl that fluttered like a dragonfly before angelically collapsing on the concrete.

with spring came along new missions suguru would have to endure either by himself or with his trusted friend —and nuisance— satoru. as curse energy that once accumulated during the toughest season gets released during the warmer seasons.

today was different however, the pair had been sent into town to retrieve a relic from the past of jujutsu history; a two thousand year old book that slipped out of the archives and has been rumoured to be contained in a bookstore hidden in the nooks of jimbocho.

“the warm breeze outside might fix the low oxygen levels in your heads.” yaga sarcastically reasons when satoru made his complaints about the origins of the mission known.

the raven haired sorcerer reprimanded his tone but expressed his concerns in a more diligent manner. anyone with half a brain would know it would take many decades to successfully pawn through each and every bookshop in the jimbocho district for a specific book, that neither of them even have the slightest clue as of what it looks like.

nonetheless, they were shooed off campus with a pat on the back and a simple: “you’ll know it when you see it—or rather feel it.”

suguru now navigated through the busy streets alone, —his white haired companion taking off a few hours ago on his own journey— with both hands in his pockets taking in the simplicities of life that surrounded him while keeping his eyes sharp for any unusual curse energy.

each corner he’d turn the storefronts would be filled with colourful book spines neatly lined adjacent to one another. the harsh sound of crimped sandpaper occasionally made its presence known when a costomer would flip through the pages.

a bitter earthly aroma tangoed with the wind. one would simply scrunch their nose up and turn the other way but for suguru, the olden smell of books filled him with comfort.

elderly couples hand in hand, a few children accompanied by their parents, and the complementary store cats that would linger in the isles or be found curled up on a random stack of books.

after roaming about and checking a few stores for their recent inventory stock, suguru oddly felt inclined towards a particular store that was larger than the others.

he enters, a ring of a bell from above signals his arrival. immediately, the smell of different assortments of tea wafts in and lingers in his nose.

a café combined with a bookstore…that’s definitely convenient. he eyes the ‘ring for assistance’ bell that rest apon the main counter, he lightly scoffs before ringing it.

“how many times do i have to tell your ass, no, you can’t conduct a séance he—” you round the tight, abelit, breathable corner to face the person it seems you weren’t expecting. you slightly jump back in a frightened manner then regain your composure, or more so, your customer service demeanour.

“my apologies! business is slow today and i thought a rather persistent costomer had came back. do you need help with a book or would you like to order something?” you enunciate your words with care, trying to not let any vocal cracks slip as you fiddle with your colourful apron which is a rather stark contrast from your all black work uniform.

suguru would pride himself as goal oriented man. the kind demands of asking to take a look at your recent stocks to see if the cursed book has fallen onto your shelves nearly wavers past his lips but the faint smell of his favourite tea clouds his better judgement.

“yes, i’d take chamomile tea with honey please.”

“coming right up!” you popped the ‘p’, scurrying off into the back to prepare his choice of beverage. alone with his thoughts again, suguru observed his surroundings with more caution.

the store has a whimsical charm to it. different array of ambiance lighting scattered throughout the establishment, vintage burgundy rugs made an appearance here and there, a few wooden chairs cushioned by velvet and a long couch that looks as if it has been passed down through many generations.

a sturdy coffee table in the middle and of course, the probably hundreds of thousands books neatly tucked in the shelves.

he wonders if you run this big place by yourself, must be a hassle if you do. he also wonders why a séance was mentioned by you in an irritated tone. maybe it could connect to his current mission? he plans on subtly bringing the topic up.

“one chamomile with honey!” you cheerfully announce handing over his mug. you don’t miss the way your heart skips a few beats when your fingers accidentally brush against his.

suguru nods his head to express his thanks. while digging for his wallet he brings up what’s been on his mind, “what was that séance you were talking about before?” he lightheartedly inquires.

you cautiously look over your shoulders and nibble on your bottom lip, as if you were scared someone might hear, “nothing too serious i suppose. these past few days business has plummeted cause there’s been talk about how this place is haunted.”

a small beat passes.

“which it isn’t by the way! just some silly stuff kids say when they wanna get under uncle daichi’s skin,” you grimace.

you then go on a bit of a tangent about how the alleged “hauntings” started a few weeks ago, just about the same time you gotten a new inventory restock. books would fly off shelves, unnerving whispers can be heard, lights would flicker and the atmosphere would turn unsettling.

suguru is unfazed yet intrigued by this, he calmly listens as his sharp eyes never leaves your face. he notices how animated your expressions are when retelling the events; you talk heartily with your hands as well as your voice that creates a certain bass to match your feelings.

he hums as he takes a slip from his mug, “can you show me the known hotspot for these hauntings?” you nod eagerly and swiftly move from your spot at the front desk to the back of the store.

yaga wasn’t kidding when he said he’d be able to feel the cursed book, as the cursed energy in the air multiples a tenfold when they step into the secluded part of the store the lighting couldn’t reach. he wonders how a cursed object this powerful was able to conceal itself from being spotted for so long.

suguru plucks the hefty grimoire off the shelf, small dust particles flying in its wake, “i’d like to purchase this one.” you look at him as if he grew an extra pair of eyes, but quickly shrug off any confusion and lead him back to the front of the store to cash him out.

as you progress his payment you feel conflicted about letting this particular stranger go so soon. holding him up for a few minutes couldn’t hurt, right?

“uhh.. wait, with each purchase a tarot card reading is offered free of charge. would you like to know what the future potentially has in store for you?”

suguru presses his lips in a thin line and sighs. he doesn’t have time for this and doesn’t believe in cards beholding a hidden future, however he is a sorcerer and just bought a book that would be a danger to society if not soon contained. raining on other peoples parade simply isn’t his forte.

he softly smiles with his eyes turning into crescent moons, “hit me.”

you try to conceal your excitement as you bring out a deck bound together by a rubber band. you start shuffling until four different cards slip out of the deck.

death, judegment, eight of cups, and the lovers.

“intresting…don’t be too alarmed by the death card, it could indicate the decay of a friendship that doesn’t hinder towards your beliefs or an troublesome habit finally coming to an end.”

you continue, “judement and eight of cups go hand in hand as your new calls for action may put certain things into perspective for you, as this chosen path may lead to dissatisfaction.”

“and finally, the lovers card is the nice light at the end of the tunnel. someone you can confine in and pour your heart out to; tarot cards can be interpreted in millions of ways so, take what i say with a grain of salt.” you smile as you put the cards away to bid the stranger farewell.

suguru stares astonished absorbing this information, you’re good. he’ll give you that. “well..thanks for the reading and the tea, have a great day.”

and just like that, he turns his back to leave until he stops just in front of the door. “oh, and i can assure you the ‘hauntings’ should come to an end now.” he smirks and waves you goodbye.

you smile until he fully leaves which is when the realization hits that you didn’t even get the chance to get his name, you frown and groan into your palms.

maybe he’ll swing by again…hopefully.

reblogs & feedback is extremely appreciated !! <3

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spacecowboyhotch · 5 months

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Blossoms & Whiskers

prompt: painting

pairing: jake lockley x f!reader

contents: anxiety, a couple kisses, avoidant love confessions

wc: 1.1k

an: the first of hopefully many promotional fics for the @moonknight-events’ bingo @juneknight & i have going on right now. DISCLAIMER: as a event runner i will not be entered in the drawing for prizes. this is promotional only.

SP BINGO 2024 | moonknight masterlist

As soon as you enter the flat you know who’s fronting. There’s the faint smell of paint wafting through the space and the covered canvas that Jake keeps easeled in the living room is gone. The window to the fire escape is open and there’s a mason jar full of murky water in your view. His hand appears, dipping and swirling the brush.

“Jake?” You yell as you kick off your shoes and hang up your light jacket.

“Out here. I’ll be in in 20,” He calls back distractedly through the window, hand disappearing.

You’d never seen Jake paint, it was something he’d picked up in the last few months and something preferred to do on his own, like many other things in his life. But, you always like to imagine the expression on his face. Brown eyes under a furrowed brow, intense and scrutinizing as always. His nose scrunched in concentration, the tip of tongue sticking out the corner of his full mouth like it does when the two of you play Jenga. The lines he paints are as sharp and precise as the lines of his body.

You peg him for a structured modernist, dependent on clear contrast and definite shapes. One day you hope to no longer guess, you hope that he’ll share even the smallest bit of his art with you.

You decide to take a quick shower and put on a kettle for some tea. By the time he’s slinking through the window carefully with the canvas, you’re curled up on the couch with a book. His eyes linger on you, enjoying how incredibly cozy you look.

“Took longer than expected,” He explains as he sets the painting back on the easel, turning it away from you.

You don't look up when you respond, “It's alright, honey. Cover it up and come snuggle.”

Jake is quiet for a handful of moments, unmoving. Finally he says, “It's finished.”

Your eyes freeze on the page, but you don’t move. Your interest in piqued. “Oh?”

“It’s for you. I’d like you to see it.”

“Are you sure?” You ask gently.

“I’m sure. Always sure about you,” He adds his voice is still quiet, but firm.

You grin, throwing your book on the floor as you stand, uncaring about what page you were on. Jake was sharing this with you. For a moment you wonder if he’s shared this with Marc or Steven at all– they’d mentioned giving his privacy. But if he was sharing this with you, certainly he’d shared it with them.

“Eyes closed,” He instructs, and you quickly follow suit. “Good girl.”

With your eyes covered, you can hear your own breath more clearly, hear the quiet drag of the easel against the wood floor. Hear his quiet, even steps.

His hands come to rest on your waist, and you feel his mouth brush the shell of your ear as he whispers. “Open for me.”

You open your eyes to rows upon rows of your favorite flower. The sun hangs low in the sky, just beginning to dip below the horizon, a few clouds dotting around. It’s much brighter than you ever imagined. Jake is a conglomerate of neutrals and darks, leather and basics. To see so much color, such an obvious lightness from his own hands stuns you. As you take more in, you see a black cat frolicking through the stems, batting at one of the flowers. Its eyes shine mischievously.

It’s your turn to fall quiet, your eyes whisking over the canvas time and time again, drinking in all you can.

“Don’t comment too quickly,” He says dryly, his hands squeezing your hips.

“Oh, Jake, its beautiful,” You breathe softly, taking a small step forward to examine it in further detail, wanting to see each and every stroke.

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, that comfortable warmth that you bring to his chest multiplying tenfold. “You think so?” He asks, trying to sound noncommittal.

“I know so. Is this cat supposed to be ours?” You point to it, grinning up at him. He’d mentioned his want for cat a few times, but it wouldn’t be a possibility until the lease was up so that you all could move to a pet friendly place.

Jake hesitates for a moment, his eyes flickering to you before they return to the canvas. Jake was the last of the boys to come around. Your relationship is the newest, and though it is no less sweet, no less passionate sometimes he struggles to be open with you. You’re patient, knowing that every piece of the man standing beside you is worth waiting for.

“It's supposed to be me,” He admits quietly.

“You?”

“The cat is me, and everything else…is you.”

“Me?”

He grows quiet again, trying to figure out what to say. He so desperately wants you to understand. You gaze up at him, watching as he mulls things over, gathering up the words to tell you what this all means to him. What you mean to him.

“Its me, basking in everything that is you. You love the sunset, you love pointing out shapes in the clouds. You love these flowers. There’s more there, more intention that I could explain. But I hope that one day, the cat, that you’ll—“ He stops, realizing that he’d got too carried away. He was about to show all his cards.

You raise a hand to cup his cheek tenderly, “I do. I do already, Jake. It’s easy.”

His gaze grows more intense as he studies you, searching for any dishonesty. There’s not a drop in your eyes. “Me too.”

Jake didn’t know it could be this easy. Sure neither of you have said the words outright, but he can feel it in the way you look at him right now. You lean in, closing the gap between you to press a soft kiss to his mouth before, one he gets lost in. And when you pull away, you simply turn back to the painting. Your hands reach out, fingers wiggling and his hand darts out, grasping yours.

“It’s still wet,” He reminds you, squeezing your hand gently before he lets it go.

“Right, sorry,” You murmur sheepishly.

All of this has you feeling a little shy— held but with hands that are afraid you’ll break. You could ask him to say it, you could say it yourself but you know that things are the slowest with him. Sometimes you have to treat him like the cat he’s painted. He’ll spook easily, retreating into solitude.

You tuck the idea of asking for more in your back pocket. Another time. Instead you ask, “So…where are we hanging it?”

Jake relaxes. He knows your thinking face, could see you weighing the pros and cons. It feels good to know how you feel about him and even better to know how well you know him.

He drops a kiss on your forehead before moving towards the fireplace. “I was thinkin’ here.”

“I’ll go get those sticky strip thingies,” You say, marching towards the closer that holds everything from spare linens, holiday decorations and yes— sticky strip thingies.

“Command strips,” Jake corrects you, snorting softly under his breath.

moonknight taglist: @ninebluehearts, @rmoonstoner, @hotchs-bitch, @later-gators12, @foreverinwanderlustt-blog, @aleeb, @eyelessfaces, @marc-spectorr, @missdictatorme, @toracainz, @mccn-bcys, @campingwiththecharmings, @whatthefishh

#jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x f!reader #jake lockley fanfiction #jake lockley fluff #moonknight fanfiction #moonknightevents #arson writes

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kittyball23 · 5 months

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Diaper Duty (a Trolls fanfic)

Summary: It’s obvious by the stinky smell coming from Baby Branch’s diaper that ONE of his brothers has to do the dirty work. Question is, who?

A/N: Taking place before TBT

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John Dory sighed, his head slumped against the windowsill of their pod and a pout on his lips. Outside, a harsh storm had just started to pour down, the sky clapping with thunder and raindrops beating harshly against the land. It was so not the way that he’d pictured this evening. It was supposed to be another great one up on the mushroom stage, belting out a song alongside his brothers, eating up the claps and cheers from the audience and soaking in the praise – not getting soaked in raindrops.

Behind him, he could hear the sounds of soaked feet squishing against the soft carpet and the sounds of water droplets patting against the floor as hair was wringed out. He, Spruce, Clay, and Floyd had made an effort to try and get out as quickly as they could before their concert got rained out, but it just hadn’t been fast enough. Heck, even Baby Branch, who was too young to perform and had only been there to watch, was soaked from head to toe. And all four of them were also less than pleased with the turnout of that evening.

John Dory groaned, finally prying himself away from the window and turning towards his brothers. “This stinks!” he exclaimed, kicking at the air angrily. There were only so many rehearsals they could do before they got bored and craved the real deal of an actual performance.

The other boys nodded, solemnly agreeing.

Floyd sighed. “Yeah…” But then, he scrunched his nose, a look of disgust crossing his face. “Ugh… but that’s not the only thing that stinks…”

It was then that Clay and Spruce, too, donned their magenta sibling’s same expression.

“Aww, ewww!” the yellow-haired Trolling moaned, pinching his nose to keep the putrid odor from infiltrating his nostrils. “Spruce, did you let one rip? Not cool, man!”

“Don’t blame this on me,” the purple-haired Trolling said, defending himself from the accusation, “it was you who probably did!”

“No way, dude,” Clay retorted. “I might be all for jokes n’ stuff, but I wouldn’t do something like that. That’s just wrong!”

John Dory, who’d made his way over as Clay and Spruce bickered, suddenly realized where the smell was coming from. “Bros, I think it’s Branch!”

The boys paused. “Branch?” they echoed.

JD picked the little baby up off the ground, who babbled at his brother with his one-toothed grin. It was when he was up close to his youngest brother that JD saw the lump that hung in his diaper, and noticed the awful scent that wafted into his nose was much stronger now.

“Ugh! Okay, I don’t think it’s Branch. I know it’s Branch.” He held the baby at an arms length away. “Okay, guys, whose turn is it to…”

But John Dory trailed off when he turned to look at the others. Within the split moment in which he’d affirmed the case of Branch’s dirty diaper and began to ask the question, Spruce, Clay, and Floyd had already picked up and dashed off from right under his nose, the only evidence of them ever having been there in the first place being a strand from each of their colorful hairs in the spots where they’d been sitting.

“Seriously, guys?!” John Dory complained. “Just cuz I’m the oldest doesn’t mean I gotta do all the dirty work!”

But, left without a choice, JD just sucked it up, using one of Grandma Rosiepuff’s clothespins to pinch his nose and grabbing a fresh diaper from the package they had.

“Remind me to add potty-training to your schedule, bro, a’ight?” he said rather nasally to Branch as he laid him down on the changing table and began to undo the diaper, cringing distastefully with every move.

Baby Branch just giggled in response.

#trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #branch trolls #john dory #spruce trolls #clay trolls #floyd trolls #brozone #fanfiction #kittyball writes #brodacious fanfiction

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lycheedr3ams · 9 months

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Ma'am- respectfully i need more butcher König 😩 any chance you're making him a bot or even just a drabble of him? Thanks so much

y'all love butcher!konig and i am here for it. I’m not going to make him a bot on c.ai but I’ll do a drabble! this is a long headcannon dump, not structured at all lol. also most of this is based off of the butcher who liked me, but he was very similar to konig in some ways

SFW, i want this to be wholesome for now

I really do owe it to the butcher who liked me a few years ago. I hope he’s doing okay

butcher!konig was never entirely satisfied with his job. He just did the same routine day in and day out. Sure, there had been plenty of new girls who came and worked in the grocery store for periods of time. They were pretty and all that, but none of them were anything like you. There was just something about you that butcher!konig just loved. You made his shifts of slicing meat and fish much more interesting when you’d pop your head through the swinging door to just say hi, or how he’d watch you walk around through the little window in the same door. how you'd always smile at him and he could just recognize you by the smell of your perfume before he even saw you. the way it would waft around the store as you passed by just mesmerized him.

You’d have to pass through the meat department every so often to get chicken from the freezer, and butcher!konig always also had to get meat from the freezer during those times. He’d help you unpack the heavy boxes and load them up, and he’d keep you company whenever he could while you fried the chicken in the cramped back space. He’d laugh whenever the oil would splash over from the fryers and stain your uniform, and you always pretended to be mad at him for it. you'd scrunch your nose all cutely and he loved it.

butcher!konig always wore a face mask, reminiscent of the ones during the pandemic days. it was leather, and it almost looked like a BDSM thing, but he quickly explained that a friend of his made it for him when you pointed out that it looked like a kink thing. he blushed so badly under that mask. it truly was just a cool thing his friend made for him. you never asked him why he always wore it even though masks aren't required anymore, and he was always thankful you never questioned him for it. besides, you didnt even mind because his blue eyes were just so damn beautiful. you told him that once, and he quickly excused himself and cleared his throat.

the one time you came into the grocery store to shop as a customer in your normal clothing, butcher!konig couldn't help the way he stopped stocking the shelves and just stared at you. the way your chosen clothes complimented your figure compared to your oil-stained work uniform was astounding to him. he loved your style and just couldn't help but stare at you. you smiled and came up to him and tried to talk to him, but he was very quiet that day and wouldn't look at you when you came up to him. you just made him so nervous :(

#konig call of duty #konig x reader #konig fic #konig #konig imagine #konig mw2 #konig headcanons #konig fluff #butcher!konig

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kakushino · 5 months

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I’m scared to ask because like I never done this before-

Anyway 👀

Do you think you can make a head cannon thing (or whatever they are called. 🥲) about a male y/n meeting (tanjiro, rengoku, or zenitsu) for the first time but y/n had like major anger issues because of their past (mostly because of their father) and they like later at night they like tell them that their dad was a horrible person and just and soft for the first time to them.

It’s fine if ya don’t want to do it I won’t mind at all :)! But if u do thank you! :D

Tanjiro meeting reader with anger issues

Tanjiro would never judge anyone for their trauma.

Tags: mild violence mention, anger issues, GN! Reader, sfw

Masterlist

AN: I have to admit, this gave me some troubles to write, as I tend to forget "the bad" as a form of coping mechanism. Lots of thanks to A and G for beta-reading and their help in figuring this out! Thank you for your patience and for requesting this! I hope you like it!

The first time Tanjiro sees you, you split your knuckles punching a man much bigger than you. The wrath and distress practically oozing from you make his nose scrunch up a little, but the situation is dissolved before he can step closer to you. You disappear in the next second like vapor above a cooking broth. It makes him wonder who you are, and why you have so much anger in you.

The second time Tanjiro sees you, he actually meets you. Your form is tense as you administer meds to a few of the slayers resting in Butterfly estate. He vividly remembers the way you laid out that man on the streets…

One of the slayers says something he can’t hear but the next thing he knows, you’re pouring tea over that slayer’s head, much to his indignation. Yet again, the anger wafts from your figure as you stalk away, overpowering any other scent he might have caught on you.

Is there anxiety? Is there sadness? All he can smell is anger, and it makes his head spin.

The third time he sees you, you’re sitting on the engawa staring at your hands, callused from labor and fighting. An undercurrent of the previous negative emotions seemingly soaked into your clothing, yet your face is blank. He has to wonder, are you always on the edge? Or does he just happen to see you in such situations?

He feels compelled to sit beside you, and perhaps offer you an ear and a kind word.

Perhaps it is his openness and warmth, but you find yourself spilling your life story to him - how your past left a festering wound behind, and especially how your father created a deep chasm in your mind, heart, and soul. You tell him how you simply can’t keep calm when someone reminds you of the inadequacy and loneliness you always felt when under your father’s thumb, the shame and the distress fueling your fists, and you cannot hold back.

Tanjiro simply listens. He offers no judgment to your character, because anger is not what defines you, it never did. He understands the need to use it as a protection, a wall of defense when anything hits too close to home, he understands and he doesn’t blame you. He doesn’t know how it feels to be related to such a person, but he knows just how to comfort you.

He gives you his hand to hold, and reassures you, tells you that that man shouldn’t call himself a father, tells you that you will find happiness, and that’s one thing he will never experience. Karma is free, and it has its way of coming back around.

The warm embrace you share afterwards is the start of something great for you both, the stars being the only witness to your exchange.

dividers made by the amazing @benkeibear Network: @enchantedforest-network

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #tanjiro x reader #kamado tanjiro x reader #kamado tanjiro #tanjiro #tanjiro x you #tanjiro x y/n #demon slayer headcanons #kimetsu no yaiba headcanons #tanjiro headcanons #kny headcanons #kny fanfic #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #demon slayer fanfic

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fanficshiddles · 6 months

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The Redbridge Hunts, Chapter 4

The following morning, Loki sat in the teacher’s lounge having his tea before classes started. David, Matt and Hannibal were in there too.

‘Chris is up to something, I can feel it.’ Loki grumbled as he sat down next to David.

‘He can probably tell she’s your soulmate, so is trying to rub you up the wrong way. Don’t fret on it too much.’ David assured him.

‘I don’t know, I think he was pretty serious last night about hunting her. If I hadn’t been there, I dread to think what he would have done.’

‘But you were there, so it didn’t happen. Don’t think about it.’ Hannibal grumbled. ‘Besides, you’ve only spent one day with her, can’t be that special yet.’

‘If she is his soulmate, of course it’s special.’ Matt argued.

Hannibal huffed in response, he didn’t believe in soulmates, he had a partner that he loved dearly, who was also a vampire.

‘Just because you haven’t met your soulmate, doesn’t mean you can be a grumpy git about those that have.’ David said as he threw his newspaper at his fellow vampire.

‘There’s humans coming.’ Matt warned everyone quietly.

‘Not just any human… Claire.’ Loki said, sounding a little panicked already and she wasn’t even in the room. He wasn’t prepared to see her yet, he’d left his vaseline in a drawer in his classroom, and her smell was already starting to waft into the room.

‘That’s Claire?’ David asked after sniffing the air. ‘She smells incredible.’ He growled low.

Loki’s eyes snapped to David, his jaw clenched. ‘She’s’ Loki was cut off from saying anything else as the door opened and in walked Michael and Claire.

Loki instantly covered his nose with his hand and tried to make it look like he was just resting his head. He still looked a little odd, though luckily Claire didn’t notice.

‘Hey everyone. I found Claire on her way in this morning. Loki, you didn’t tell her about the teacher’s lounge!’ Michael said as he went straight over to the kettle to make himself and Claire tea.

‘Ah, yes. It totally slipped my mind. Apologies, Claire. How are you this morning?’ Loki said chirpily, he brought his cup of tea up to his mouth and took a long, slow drink while she answered.

‘That’s ok, there’s so much to take in anyway, I would have probably forgot.’ She said brightly.

Loki noticed David, Matt and Hannibal all shifted in their seats as Claire walked past them to get her tea from Michael. Loki had to focus hard on keeping himself calm while he introduced her to them all.

‘There’s also Severus, Jessica and Jeremy that you haven’t met yet. I’m sure they’ll be along soon.’ Michael said as he took a seat and motioned for Claire to sit down too, she took a seat next to Matt, who stiffened up, but he smiled warmly at her.

When Jessica, Severus and Jeremy walked into the teachers’ lounge a few minutes later, Loki observed that Jessica and Severus both tensed up as soon as they caught scent of Claire and looked at her with a slight hunger in their eyes.

‘Morning guys, this is our newbie, Claire. She’s Loki’s soul….’ David caught himself before saying the wrong thing. ‘…ful new assistant!’

Loki raised an eyebrow at him for his choice of words and internally face-palmed.

Jessica and Severus did manage to snap out of it, albeit looking a little stressed. David, Matt and Hannibal were slowly calming down and becoming accustomed to her scent. Loki wasn’t though, he wanted nothing more than to pounce on her already.

Claire chatted with everyone and felt quite relaxed meeting all of her new colleagues. She initially thought being one of only two females working there would be a bit intimidating, but they all made her feel very welcome.

‘Well, we best get to our classes.’ Matt said when they could hear the corridor getting busier with students arriving.

Loki and Claire headed to their class together. On the way there, Claire noticed Loki walking quite fast and every now and then he kept pressing the back of his hand up to his scrunched up nose. She held back a little and subtly sniffed her underarms, worried incase she forgot to put on deodorant that morning. To her relief, that wasn’t the case.

As soon as Loki and Claire got into class, Loki turned and sneakily put some Vaseline on around his nostrils. It worked well yesterday, so he hoped it would work just as well today too.

‘Ready for your second day?’ He asked Claire with a smile as she began putting papers onto each desk.

‘Yep, I was born ready.’

Loki found himself smiling while he watched her, or more, stared at her. The way she had a small smile on her lips the whole time as she moved seamlessly around the room, how she just seemed really happy to be here. He caught himself in time before she noticed him watching her and he began writing some notes up on the board.

Claire enjoyed observing Loki while he taught. He wasn’t an overly strict teacher, he was very fair and made sure that no one was left behind. Students felt comfortable to ask him for help, he never mocked them or told them off for not knowing something. He made learning fun where he could. Though he didn’t stand for any mucking around or nonsense, he especially didn’t tolerate bullying of any kind, but he knew when to have a laugh, too. Because of that, most of the students respected him and he was one of their favourite teachers.

‘Now, we are going to move on to the Holocaust.’ Loki announced.

Before he even had a chance to go and get said books from the back, Claire was already there getting them out, making him smile.

One of the students raised their hands, a new student who had just moved to the city a few months ago.

‘Yes, Billy?’ Loki asked.

‘Can we learn about the history of Redbridge and the red river?’

A low mumble spread through all of the students.

Loki chuckled and folded his arms over his chest. ‘Calm down, everyone. There’s not much to learn, Billy. Everything I’m sure you’ve heard are rumours, not facts. We can certainly look into the history of when the bridge itself was built.’

‘The river though, it’s true. It was red the other night, I saw it!’ Billy continued. ‘The story about vampires, it must be real.’

Some students looked at one another excitedly, while others looked a little apprehensive.

Claire listened rather intently as she handed out the last book and made her way back to her seat in the front corner of the room. Loki glanced briefly at her, then back at his students.

‘There is no such thing as vampires, Billy. There is a perfectly reasonable explanation for the red water.’

‘Like what?’ Another student asked.

‘Well, no one knows for sure. It’s highly likely to be run off from a local farmer’s field, the chemicals they use on their land can cause a wide range of issues, especially near water sources. Or it could simply be someone pulling a prank every year, trying to keep the excitement of the city alive.’ Loki shrugged.

‘Sir, farmers wouldn’t be spraying at this time of year.’ Another student called out.

‘Alright, enough of you all just shouting out without raising your hands, and enough talk about Redbridge. As I already said, there will be an explanation for it, that I am sure will become clear sometime. Now, on to the Holocaust.’

Some of the students groaned in disappointment.

At lunch time, Loki originally planned to go to the teacher’s lounge to eat as usual, but he thought of something else instead.

‘Claire… would you like to just have lunch here with me today? I’m not really in the mood for the trivial chit chat of the others today, though I would like some company.’

‘Yeah, that would be nice. Not sure I’ll be any less trivial though.’ She grinned.

Loki chuckled and motioned for her to pull her chair over to join him at his desk. ‘Conversation with you could never be trivial, I’m sure.’

The couple both fell into easy conversation together, aside from Loki doing his best to just smell his food and not her, they were really comfortable with one another.

‘Have you always wanted to be a teacher?’ Loki asked her.

‘Nope. When I was younger, I wanted to be an astronaut.’ Claire laughed. ‘I was determined I was going to walk on the moon. However, I quickly learned that I wouldn’t be able to achieve that.’

‘How come? You can do anything if you put your mind to it.’

‘Well, being afraid of enclosed spaces is kind of a big deal if you’re an astronaut. The thought of being enclosed in a glorified tin can was enough to make me start hyperventilating.’

Loki laughed. ‘Ah, yes. That would not be ideal.’

‘My parents are both teachers and I looked up to them, so that sort of planted the seed. Aside from space, I��ve always been interested in history, so it made sense to go down that path.’

‘Ah, following in your parent’s footsteps. They must be proud of you making it this far, it’s not an easy road.’

‘Yeah, they are. They’re not the most affectionate of people, but they do express how proud they are of me. And they helped me through college and to move here.’

‘What do they teach?’

‘My mum teaches geography and my dad is a primary school teacher.’

‘I often think I should have gone down the primary school route, sometimes the teens here can be a bit of a handful.’ Loki said.

‘I dunno, looking after kids under ten doesn’t sound so fun either from some of the stories I’ve heard. They still throw temper tantrums and get sick often. It’s not as easy to get them to focus or listen.’

‘Good points.’ Loki chuckled.

‘What about you, have you always wanted to be a teacher?’ Claire asked as she finally took a bite of her sandwich.

Loki finished his mouthful of food before responding. ‘I have actually. I don’t know why, but even as a child I would often play pretend as a teacher. Similar to yourself, I had an interest in history so knew it was the path I had to take. I was lucky that I managed to get a job here as soon as I finished college. I had a bit of sneaky help though. My dad set this school up, it helps fund the hospital that he also set up and founded. So, he was able to get me this job as soon as I was ready.’

‘Oh wow. Well, knowing the right people is a big plus.’ Claire smiled. ‘I’ve heard of your dad, his name is Lucius, right?’

Loki nodded.

‘I’ve read about him, he’s brought a lot of money into the city. Making lots of jobs with the hospital and doing his best to keep costs down for people in need of medical care, often free. Makes sense that he set up this school to help with that.’

Loki couldn’t stop smiling. ‘You certainly did your research.’

‘I like knowing the history of cities.’ Claire said with a little blush from the way he looked at her, she diverted her gaze down at her sandwich and continued eating.

‘What do you think of the blood river now?’ Loki asked.

Claire’s head shot up at that question. ‘Well, part of me thinks like you said, there must be a reasonable explanation. Although, there’s another part of me that does wonder… or perhaps, wants to believe, that there’s maybe something more supernatural going on. Maybe, just maybe, the stories about the vampires are real? I don’t know, I guess it’s maybe just the child within me that would like to believe in vampires.’ She laughed nervously.

Loki raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Vampires aren’t real, it’s all just a big fairytale and made worse by all the silly fantasy novels and movies.’ He scoffed. ‘Have you been back to the bridge?’

‘Yes, I went last night again. I know you said it’s dangerous, but I couldn’t help myself. Though that’s the weird thing, I was following the fence that’s in the forest, and a bat began acting very strange. It was flapping around my face, chased me out of the forest. Not normal behaviour for a bat.’ She frowned.

‘Really? Hmm, that is odd.’ Loki waited till she looked down at her food then he quickly applied more vaseline now he was finished eating. ‘Perhaps you just spooked the bat, or it sensed danger and was trying to warn you, maybe.’ He shrugged.

‘Yeah, maybe. I guess animals are good at sensing danger. I’ll see what happens when I go back on Friday night.’

Loki’s eyes widened. ‘You’re going back?’

‘Yep. I really want to try and find a way through the fence. See if I can find this chemical spill it might be.’ She smirked.

‘It’s really dangerous around there, Claire. It’s best to be avoided, especially in the dark.’ Loki said with a firm tone, not much different from the tone he used with his students when they were getting a bit rowdy.

‘I’ll be prepared, don’t worry about me.’ She smiled. ‘I appreciate your concern though. Or are you just worried about losing your new assistant?’ She teased.

Loki chuckled. ‘Well, that too. It would be most inconvenient, the amount of paper work I would have to do…’ He sighed dramatically. ‘It would eat up all of my spare time.’ He shook his head with a smirk as Claire laughed.

‘I will do my best to make sure you don’t get a bunch of paper work.’

‘Two visits in a row, to what do I owe the pleasure this time?’ Lucius chuckled when he entered his office and found Loki there, looking out of the window.

‘I need some more advice.’ Loki said sheepishly.

Lucius motioned to the sofa, they both sat down and Loki began.

‘My colleagues, that are vampires, are also attracted to Claire. Not in the same manner as me, I don’t think, but they seem to be attracted to her smell a little more intensely than other humans. This worries me as I obviously don’t want anyone feeding off her.’

Lucius hummed. ‘They didn’t attempt though, did they?’

‘No… but they all looked to be struggling at first.’

‘Well, that’s the main thing. They were able to keep themselves under control enough to not actually attack her, and if it got easier over time then you don’t need to worry. Some humans just smell more appealing than others, and she is obviously one of them. Similar to how some foods smell more appetising than others, they’re not all the same. Claire must be the equivalent of a prime cut of filet mignon steak. Luckily for you, you are surrounded by decent vampires who know how to control themselves well, or they wouldn’t be teaching.’

‘I guess so.’ Loki sighed. ‘Aside from one…’

‘Yes, but we both know he’s not your average vampire. As ruthless as he can be, he has the most self-control out of all of you.’ Lucius reminded him.

‘I know, I know. That still doesn’t ease my worry of him sniffing around. Plus, Claire is going back to the river on Friday night. She’s determined to get behind the fence, into the hunting grounds. I know there’s nothing there right now, but who knows what kind of vampires are lurking around there… or if Chris is hanging about. It wouldn’t surprise me if he has eyes on her most of the time.’

‘Hmm, that is a concern.’ Lucius pondered a moment, tapping his lip. ‘I have an idea.’

‘What is it?’ Loki asked, perking up.

‘Leave it with me. Go with her, keep an eye on her. Allow her to get behind the fence, don’t keep her out, only interfere if you need to.’

‘What are you planning?’

‘Just trust me, Son.’ Lucius patted Loki’s shoulder.

#tom hiddleston #loki #loki x ofc #loki fic #vampire Loki #the redbridge hunts

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bettysupremacy · 8 months

Text

The Cheerleader Curse pt. 2

summary When the party gets too much, somehow you end up face to face with a familiar metal head

w/c 1.2k

a/n I only tagged people who specifically asked for pt 2 <3 could be read as a stand-alone! also idk how I feel about this writing of mine

In the end, you had gone to Tina’s party.

The kids plans tangled, they messily read We want Steve to take us.

So currently, sitting firmly on the cold marble island, you watch Carol pour you punch. Warm and stingy, it splashes over the sides messily, drawing a trail of liquid down the cup, onto the counter, where it puddles into a stain.

“You’re making a mess.” You nudge Carol with your foot. She turns, hair wild, cheeks tinged pink.

“It’s a party!” She grins, sloshing the drink towards you. “They’ll have more to clean than some punch.”

Your nose scrunches defiantly at the pungent smell wafting from the red cup. “This is rancid.”

“It’s good!” She coaxes. “Y’just gotta get used to it!”

“Used to what?” Tina pops into the kitchen, wearily frowning at the messy countertops.

“The punch.”

“Oh,” Her eyes roam away from the mess, and back to yours. Giggles start to peel at the sight of your face. “You’ll never get used to that.”

“Thanks,” You frown. “But no thanks.” Your fingers gently slide the full cup away from you.

Carol glares, shiftng Tina into something of a reprimanded little sister. What? She mouths, shrugging and looking away.

Regretfully, she slinks out of the kitchen.

Carols eyes make their way back to you, laughing softly when you push her face away, palm smooshing into the fat of her cheek. “What’s up?”

“Huh?”

“What’s up?” Carol repeats, teasing smile playing. Her eyes scrunch. “You don’t seem like yourself.”

You cringe at her bluntness. “I’m having fun!”

A shriek of a laugh slips from her lips. “You lying bitch!”

“Am not!”

“You’re totally miserable!”

You laugh at her exaggeration. “I’m totally fine!”

She shrugs seemingly fine with your fraudulent answer. Dropping the interrogation, she picks at your jeans in the contentedness of the silence.

“Y/N?” Carol gently frowns, fingers kneading into your knees.

“What?” You look up at her attention.

“Are you okay?”

“What?” You repeat, startled at the bluntness that edges her voice.

“Are you waiting for someone?” She pushes, “You’re shifty.”

“Shifty?”

“You keep looking over there.” She shakes her head in the direction of the front door. “You can’t already be plotting your escape.” She lightens with an easy smile.

You stop, guilty and caught. “I’m just tired.” You heave a sigh, warm minty air hitting Carol. “Can I get some air? Outside? I’ll come back in. Play beer pong with you.”

She smiles, satisfied with your honesty, concerned with the look in your eye. “Yeah, babe,” She breathes. “Don’t go far.”

You nod, smiling at the way she pats your knee before you drop off the counter.

Tommy strides to Carol, arm dropping over her shoulders heavily. The couple watches you head out. “What was that about?”

Carol sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, and shaking her head.

Outside is cool, but humid. The chill seeps into your skin, then warms it with the warm air seeping through the open windows of the house.

You walk further, further than you know Carol would like you going, but not far enough to leave the yard. It’s as quiet as it can be with a party alive 30 feet away. The bass still tingles your toes out here.

You walk to the side of the house, desperate for more of the chill that slowly works into your fingers, but you’re not alone. You back up, conscious of Carols warning, scared of the figure in front of you. Tall and long limbed, it doesn’t face you as you slowly back away, scared to grab its focus.

But you’re foot catches in the tiny rocks, and a rough inhale catches his attention. Ragged and sharp, it startles him over the thrum of music.

The boy flicks ash away from you, then, ultimately drops the cig to the ground, smashing it meanly with his boot.

“You okay?” He can’t decide wether to help or not. You hadn’t much liked him the last time you’d met.

“Yeah,” You choke back, the gravel sticks into your palms that crush down. “M’great.”

He drops down to his knees decidedly, helping you ease the weight of your hands off the pavement. With great heaviness, he takes your hands into his own to inspect. Gravel sticks where blood licks your skin. He hisses through his teeth.

The first good look at his face shows the worst. It’s Eddie.

“That hurts.”

“Yeah,” You frown.

“Should we go in?” He murmurs, thumbing at it curiously. “Find a first aid?”

You look up at him, lips parting softly as you take him in. He’s much more pretty in this lighting. Pretty features softened by the haze of party lights shining in from a window.

His thumb snags as he brushes rubble from your palms, snagging again when you pull back in shock. Sucking through your teeth, the haze of his pretty lips breaks, and the expression on your face reels him back.

“I can clean my own hands and drive my own kids around, you know.”

Vaguely, he registers he’s embarrassed you. “I know.”

“So I don’t need you to be doing that for me.”

His mouth opens to answer, but you don’t let him.

“So next time Dustin needs a ride I’m fully capable of doing it myself.”

Wait.

“Wasn’t that tonight?”

You pause, stumped by his memory. Selective, you think. “Yes,” You allow. “It was, but-“

“So what are you doing here?”

You huff at his interruption. “I’ve got it covered.”

“Sure you do.” He scoffs, standing. His knees ache fully from the crouch.

You scoff back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” He starts, brushing his hands against his rough jeans. “I gotta go pick them up since you’re occupied.”

“I said I had it covered.”

“Who’s covering it for you?” His sarcastic tone irks you. “The cab driver? You drop them off with a $20?”

Wow, you think, he’s a dick.

“Steve has it handled, thanks.” You stand, dully aware of the throb in your hands.

“Harrington?” He laughs meanly. It cracks at you. “Oh, yeah, they’re in safe hands.”

Your arms cross coldly. “Don’t talk about him like that.”

“Whatever,” He snarks, turning towards the backyard. “I have shit to be selling.”

“Whatever,” You snark back. “It’s not like I wanted your help anyways.”

You turn on your heel, straight to the front door. The closer you get, the closer you feel the bass thrumming in your skin.

“Fine!” You hear him yell, it’s lost and muddled from the loudness of the party.

“Fine!” You shout back, hoping he heard it over the ruckus that’s sure to file a noise complaint.

Dully, you feel tears bubble up, angry and embarrassed. Maybe you wanted his help. You swipe at your dry cheeks roughly with your knuckles, pushing into the party. It’s amazing you hold it together so long, though by the time you reach the downstairs bathroom, Carol is standing there waiting. Word travels fast and��crying girl towards bathroom spreads quicker.

She doesn’t have to ask, pulling you in tightly.

“Stupid boys,” She murmurs, hand in your hair. “Stupid, stupid, boys. Don’t let them get you you.”

You think, startled at her knowing-

“What happened to your hands?”

@astermath @armydrcamers @eggo-segual @strangerstilinski @avitute @munson-enthusiast @agirlsguidetolove

#eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine

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pas-cal · 2 months

Note

Hmmm how about a Kaeya x Reader where they celebrate leap day

You know, I have never written nor read a reader fic before so let's see how this goes lmao

For the purposes of making this as immersive as possible, it is first person POV, no name is given to reader and terms are gender neutral. This work is sfw.

You awaken to an empty bed.

The sight of it does not dishearten you, because the sheets are still warm and you can hear shuffling in the other room. A whistling, like a tea kettle going off, is what truly stirred you awake, but the noise has since been quickly snuffed out. The warm aroma of tea fills your nostrils next, and you lay curled up in the sheets, basking in the scent that mixes so well with that of your lover.

You shut your eyes and pretend to sleep when you hear footsteps padding into the room.

"You know you can't fool me with that," comes a velvety voice that warms you all over. Kaeya may be a cryogene, but everything about him is so utterly enveloping and cozy.

Only for you, though. This is a privilege you both flaunt and savor. You cherish every moment.

Stubbornly, you keep your eyes shut, and Kaeya laughs softly as he sets the tray he had in hand on the bedside table. "You scrunch your nose too much. It gives you away." The bed dips where he takes a seat on it's edge and you feel a pressure just above the tip of your nose. "Right here."

You can't help the stifled laugh you let out, and finally you peak an eye open to see Kaeya fully. He's still dressed for bed, his hair an unkempt mess from sleep. It's rare to see him so imperfect. Even his eyepatch is gone.

"You're supposed to kiss me awake," you say with a dramatic huff, but you cannot fight the smile from your lips as you say it. Kaeya simply looks on amused.

"Am I now? Well it seems you've already awoken, so a kiss seems rather unnecessary now. For all we know, it might put you right back to sleep." As he says this, he leans down to press his lips to your temple. His breath smells of mint leaves and something sweet, like honey. You glance toward the tray and see two cups wafting steam into the air. In the middle is a plate with glazed tea cakes.

You blink, finally seeming to take note of the time. You glance toward the window, where the sun is nearing it's zenith. Morning has already passed and yet Kaeya is still here bringing you breakfast sweets and tea.

"It's leap day," Kaeya says in explanation when he catches on to your confusion. He laughs when he sees it only worsen. "It's considered a holiday here in Mond. We take any opportunity we can to find reason to celebrate."

You look skeptical, and rightly so. "Leap day," you echo in a rather flat tone. "Alright, I'll bite. How does one celebrate leap day?"

"Hopscotch is a favorite activity," he says, and you roll your eyes instantly. "There's also frog racing, but it's not a very exciting sport if the winter has been especially cold. Jump rope competitions-"

"Archons above, stop with your nonsense. You could've just said you had the day off." You swat at him in mild annoyance, but he just smiles that toothy smile that melts your heart all over again. He snatches your hand, presses his lips to the back of it sweetly, and then cradles your palm against his cheek.

"I had the day off," he confirms. You brush your thumb over his cheek bone, admiring the way the afternoon light makes his skin and hair glow. No doubt, as he gazes back at you, he's doing the same.

Only you get to see him like this. So at ease. So soft. So warm. All his walls are down and he has no reason to put up his usual walls and masks and intricate facades. The face that cradles in your palm is porcelain. His heart nothing but a thin sheet of ice.

You lean in wordlessly to press your lips to his, and he easily shifts to reciprocate. Gentle and soft, with the taste of mint and honey lingering on your lips. When you part, you smile softly and tuck a stray wild navy lock behind his ear.

"So we have the day together, then," you say, looking back to the tray of tea and cakes. Your stomach gives a pitiful little rumble at the sight of the food, and you feel your face burn hot from embarrassment.

Kaeya merely chuckles and plucks one of the cakes from the plate. "Eat first," he says, holding the pastry out for you to take a bite. "We can play later."

#genshin impact #kaeya alberich #x reader #reader insert #kaeya x reader #divider by cafekitsune

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lazypanartist · 2 years

Note

Hello hello, one blind box fic for your enjoyment! Please be aware there is medical terms, blood and injuries in this, though nothing too awful. However if you find this too much, give me a heads up and I will whip up something else.

-📝 nonnie

"DONNIE!!!"

The soft-shelled brother bolted upright, quickly looking over to the large metal door of his lab being opened to four figures.

A pale looking Leonardo, a frantic Mikey, Raphael who looked about ready to cry, and-

"UH." Donnie blinked hard, feeling his stomach wrench at the sight of your leg. "Okay. Okay uh, don't- urf, ogh okay. Okay. Put them on the table, I'll need to have some…Assistance…Oh that is deep."

"We were skateboarding and they fell off the ramp!" Raph explained, setting you down on a medical table. "They came in at a bad angle and landed right on the board, and a piece, well…"

"Got it. Any medications that I should be aware of? Blood thinners, etcetera?"

"No."

You looked up, stressed but far, far more calm than the rest of them. Like you weren't the one with your shorts leg pulled up as high as it would go and a gash in your leg the size of your hand, and who knows how deep.

"Alright, Raph, hold their leg still while I flush the wound out. This is going to…Really, really hurt, but I need you to be still okay?" Donnie said, waving Leo over who rushed to him with a squeeze bottle full of really hot water. Michelangelo held your hands tightly, his grin pinched.

"Squeeze my hands when it hurts, okay."

"Mkay. Thanks for helping me out, guys. I usually bandage myself up but this one's out of my skill range. And arm. I can't sew it up at that angle, maybe I need to go to the hospital though- eugh, but the climb up top…"

Donatello took the bottle and began to flush the wound with the hot water, making sure to clean it thoroughly. Steam wafted up and he scrunched his nose at the metallic smell. "What do you mean?? Do you have something, are you anemic, what?"

"I have cognital-whatchamacallit to pain."

"Congenital insensitivity to pain? Wait-" The violet clad turtle sat up straight, accepting a towel from Leo and pressing it to your wound.

You blinked in response and gave a quick squeeze of Mikey's hands. Not from pain, no, from nerves.

You couldn't feel pain, after all. Or temperature.

"...That's pretty massive. Why didn't you tell any of us?"

"Yeah. Whatever that means sounds pretty important!" Leonardo huffed, gathering whatever medical supplies his twin asked for.

You shrugged. "I mean, it's not a big deal. I do my injury checks every few hours and I'm decent at not like, hurting myself. I bought a chew stim thing to help my stress and now I don't tear up my lips or tongue as bad anymore, and like I said, I usually can patch myself up or know to get help, this one just is in a bad spot. Besides, I'm fine."

Leo passed over thread and a needle. "Wait, you can't feel pain??"

"Yeah, or sweat, or feel cold or hot, it sucks."

Mikey's nose wrinkled as he frowned, keeping your eyes on him. "I mean, I don't see why that's like…a bad thing though. Getting hurt is awful."

"They can't FEEL when they get hurt, so if they don't notice it, they can have a bad wound that just gets worse, like if they walked on a broken leg." Raphael continued to hold your leg firmly, like you would suddenly feel it and jump. The eldest hissed in sympathy as the disinfectant was poured over the wound, the astringent smell sharp and burning. "And no body temp regulation? Means summers and winters are very dangerous."

You nodded at Red's explanation. "Yeah. I tend to have a lot of issues during extreme weather and stuff. I usually just hole up in the house during those times, but…I can't live in a bubble, y'know?"

Donatello threaded a needle after making sure it was sterile and, after shuddering, he quickly began stitching the wound on the back of your thigh. "So, we should probably give you an x-ray when this is all done. Just to be sure you dont have any fractures or breaks you aren't aware of…"

You agreed quietly, squeezing Mikey's hands again.

"...So, why again didn't you say something about this?"

Shame made your face ruddy as you refused to look at Leonardo. You couldn' help shrugging meekly and looking elsewhere with a sigh.

"You'd all treat me differently. Everyone always does once they find out. You already are."

The group of teens all stared at you, and you worried your lip-

"Ah! Nope, hey-"

Michelangelo's thumb pulled the flesh from between your teeth and shoved your chew necklace in your mouth. Your face went red, and he shrunk back from your glare. You were humiliated, and now everything was different.

You hated it.

Rolling your eyes, you spat the silicone shape out of your mouth and looked away. "Yeah. Definitely already are…"

"I-I'm sorry."

"We just want to look out for you, this is dangerous and-"

"Do you think I'm…what, an idiot who hasn't dealt with it my whole life?!" You snapped at Raphael, at everyone. "Someone who doesn't know?? I take care of myself! I check myself, I monitor the heat and the cold, I make sure to clean and bandage any wounds I get! I know stoves burn, I know what frostbite is, I LIVE WITH THIS!" Shaking, your eyes welled as frustrated tears stung your eyes.

"This wasn't even my CIPA's fault. I just suck at skateboarding. My injury was not due to my nervous system issues. But now, you're going to freak out, and bubble wrap me and pretend I can't cook my own food or make my own bed or walk to the damn transit without holding someone's hands. I know it's dangerous, and I've messed up a few times or was unaware of an issue, but I'm better now, better at taking care of myself. I know the mortality rate is high, and I'm FINE."

Breathing came out in strained puffs, and you longed to pick or scratch, but you resisted, opting instead to toy with your jacket's zipper as you looked away. "Look, just…stitch me up, and let me go to the home. I shouldn't have sai-"

"You're right."

You looked over at Donatello, who had finished closing the wound and had now wrapped the spot.

"Mh?"

"You're right. We treated you like you don't know your own illness. I'm…Sorry." He sighed and stood up, taking the various materials with him to clean.

"I think it just…scared us." Baby Blue suggested, scratching the back of his head. "I mean…That was a lot of blood. I thought you were in shock at first."

"Yeah." Mikey nodded. "And when I heard that you could be mortally wounded and not even know, it just made it worse. For all of us. I think we all started having a bunch of 'what if' scenarios and feared the worst without thinking about what really happened."

You sighed, propping your head up with a hand. "I'm sorry for yelling. That wasn't cool."

"It's fine," uttered Raphael, gently patting your leg. "I'm sorry I freaked. I know…you pro'ly don't need the help, but…can we keep a closer eye out for ya? Make sure you're aware of any injuries?"

You looked down at your hands. You remembered getting that scar on your palm from grabbing a hot cookie sheet from the oven. You had been alone at the time and, though you ran it under water when your realized your mistake, you hadn't done it nearly long enough, and the burn ended up quite nasty. The one on your chin was from shaving and taking something more than facial hair. The scars from your surgery when a broken rib you didn't know about punctured your lung were like railroads across your torso.

You loved your freedom, but…

You sighed, nodding slightly. "Okay. Okay I…You can help me when I get hurt. Just…I'm not glass. I'm a person."

"How about," Donnie started, coming back with S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. and shooing his brothers away. "He's going to give you an X-ray, no worries- How about, if you have like…an accident when you're around us, you get the right to do your own check first. We can do them for places that are hard to see for you if you need, and if whatever happpened seems bad enough, we will ask to give a second opinion check. Is that…okay?"

You mulled it over quietly.

"If I'm doing something self-destructive, give me a moment to realize it before you correct me, okay?"

Leo nodded. "You mentioned you were getting better, if you think that would help then absolutely."

"And I want you to not beat yourselves up if I get hurt. It's going to happen, okay? It's best to just, deal with it and move forward from there.

Mikey agreed, watching the violet turtle drone sweep a beam up and down your form as you laid out on the medical table. "Yeah. We can do that."

"Alright…Alright then, sure. Just…please no coddling."

Raph smiled softly, his snaggletooth poking out some. "We'll try our best, though we might need a reminder from time to time."

You smiled and nodded, welcoming their help.

–

"Yeah you broke your wrist, probably from trying to stop your fall."

"Ah damn." You huffed, looking at the swollen joint. "At least it wasn't my rib again."

"I CALL DIBS ON THE FIRST CAST SIGNATURE!!"

"Hey, no fair Leo!"

"You snooze you lose baby bro."

"Raph wants second! I have a big autograph!"

"Adorable that you three think that I wont be signing first since I am, you know, casting their arm."

You smiled at your friends. Yeah, you think this could work.

Aww!! Not-so-hurt to comfort! Love how they all backed off when the reader told them off, and everyone came to a compromise ☺️ Wish people IRL would do the same when they find out someone is disabled in any way 🙃

This is rlly cute though! Thank you so much!!

#kana's chats #📝 anon #rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rise donnie x reader

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child-of-the-cosmos · 1 year

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Pov: You wake up from your ethereal sleep, the only light is the pitiful glow from the moon above, dusk has faded into the depths of night now. Something calls you, like a siren out at sea. A single cup lays at your bedside. Red pools and stirs within. Reflective from the somber light outside your window. Why were you here? Foreign sheets scrunch under your fingertips. This wasn’t your home.

It calls you again, louder this time. Whispers surround you in a flurry. “Run, run run- hide, hide, hide.” There’s another voice, more prominent than the rest. Smooth like honey- with a serpents edge. “Drink from the cup dear, go on.” It urges you. The whispers grow louder, pleading you not to. There’s a fear laced within their tone.

You tried to listen to them, you did, but it felt like the world was now moving in slow motion. You watched as your hands slowly slid around the cup. You heart raced as you listened to the voices plead you to fight. Another, called out to the darkness around you. “Leave the child alone! They have done no wro-”

“SILENCE.” A chill swept through the air, and your skin prickled at the plummeting temperature. The voices were all silent now. You felt their sorry gaze from the walls, slowly disappearing into nothing. Questions piled and overflowed as you tried to piece together how you got here- and more importantly, how to get out.

You had already tried to move multiple times now, but your body just wouldn’t listen! It was like you were frozen, or more specifically a... puppet. As if strings were attached to your every limb, moving this way and that only if the puppeteer allowed so.

The question now was, who exactly was this puppeteer?

Pieces of your memory flowed through, you winced at the oncoming headache as fragments slowly started to piece together. A stage, a creaking floor... you fell through it. You were running from something. It was chasing you.

“The tea.” You jumped at how close the voice was now. You snapped your head in the direction it was coming from, only to be met with a dark silhouette looming over you. You could make out what looked like spikes framed around their head, dark auburn illuminate by the moonlight, gold irises stared back into yours.

Glove outstretched, cup engulfed by their hand as they slowly guided yours to hold the red liquid. “Drink it, it will make you feel better.” It stated, backing away to give you space. You couldn’t fight the entire time, your body almost going limp when it neared you. You glanced at the cup, bringing it to your lips. A floral smell mixed with something else wafted to your nose as you became helpless to whatever pull or control this being had over you. In one last futile attempt, you tried to speak to it yourself.

“W-wait!” Your body froze, and you watched the being flinch slightly at your sudden outburst. “I.. uhm,” Think Y/n think! “Who... are you?” It was silent, but thankfully your body hadn’t moved an inch. It was holding you in place for the time being. “It doesn’t matter-” “Then how about just your name?” You pushed. You just had to keep it distracted enough for you to hopefully escape... once you figured out how to do that, that was.

It was quiet, contemplating. A silence overcame the two of you as you searched for an exit. A door! Barely outlined behind the tall figure, but there definitely was one. If you could just get past...

“Eclipse.” You blinked at the figure. Eclipse?... The Eclipse? More memories flooded your mind, along with the reason you were here. You were sent here! Your kingdom! You pushed your fear aside, more pressing matters at the forefront of your mind now.

“Please,” You started, “My kingdom- I...” You tried to move again, and much to your surprise you were able to- A sharp pain shot up your right leg, you yelped as you fell out of the bed, landing harshly on the wooden floor beneath you. Tears pricked your eyes, but not just from the pain. You had a job- a duty! And here you were barely able to stand, barely able you help your people, and crumbling in front of the sole person you were sent out to seek.

How pathetic. Useless... but-

“Please, Eclipse... My people need your help.” You had to try.

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absoloutenonsense · 5 months

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(almost) exes-to-lovers Sunday Snippet

“Louuuuuuuu,” Harry whines, but there’s a giggle behind it that makes Louis smirk. He doesn’t say anything.

His boyfriend is sitting at the tiny kitchen table in their minuscule apartment, that is doubling as an experiment-center right now. He’s blindfolded and his hands are in his lap, as he was instructed.

“Louuuuu,” Harry singsongs this time. “This is taking forever, let’s just go get ice cream.”

“It’s been six minutes,” Louis says, crossing his arms as he leans back against the refrigerator across from him. “And ice cream is the reward once you get through all of our run-through.”

“Don’t you think I deserve a reward already?” he asks, grinning hard enough that his dimple is in full force.

“No, I don’t,” Louis lies. Harry always deserves a reward.

Harry pouts. “I always deserve a reward.”

Louis shakes his head and tries to keep the laughter from puffing out of him.

Harry sighs when there’s no response. “Okay,” he huffs. “Go on, give me the last one.”

Louis stands up straight and grabs the final part, a kitchen-towel-covered mason jar and brings it over to the table, right in front of his boyfriend’s face.

“What do you smell?”

Harry takes a small whiff, scrunches up his face, then takes a bigger smell as he leans forward. “What did you bring into our home that would smell that rank?”

Louis snorts and blushes, still not over it being their home. “It’s not one thing, baby, I told you. You got too good at single smells. C’mon, what do you think it is? Talk it out.”

Moving forward again, it looks like he’s about to bring his arms up onto the table, but he catches himself and keeps his hands on his knees. It’s better to focus on only one sensation at a time, to try and solidify each one before moving on.

“Well, you’re clearly using something we just washed because I can smell our fabric softener, so thanks for that.”

Even through the blindfold, it looks like Harry wants to roll his eyes. Louis just gazes fondly at his cheeky, observant, playfully stupid boyfriend and waits as Harry gets another good waft of something and concentrates.

“Like… rubber?” he asks more than says and continues sniffing it out. “Intense rubber. Not… not tires? But not, not tires? Ugh.” He tips his head back.

“Keep going, you’re doing great,” Louis says.

“Something sort of citrus-y,” Harry says. “Not heavy like a lemon. A… grapefruit? Maybe? And… cinnamon? Or, no, nutmeg.”

“What’s your final guess?”

“Well… okay I guess… okay. It’s grapefruit, nutmeg… and a tennis ball?”

“Take off the blindfold,” Louis says, finally sliding down into the seat across from him.

Harry pulls it off, giving a wide-eyed look as he shrugs and looks at the still-covered jar. “Well?”

Grabbing the corner of the dishtowel, Louis pulls it off to reveal what’s inside.

“Wait a minute,” Harry says, reaching out for it and pulling it to his nose again. “What did you do to this lemon peel, it doesn’t smell like lemon.”

“It’s a yuzu,” Louis says, pointing at it unnecessarily.

“A yuzu? Where did you find a yuzu?”

“That Asian supermarket that opened up a few weeks ago. Went after work yesterday.”

“You went without me?” Harry asks, affronted.

Louis laughs as he says, “You’ve never mentioned it!”

“That because I didn’t know about it, but now I want to go. Do you know how long I’ve been searching for a good kewpie mayo?”

“It’s gotta be years for how put out it made you.”

“And it might as well be for how much damage this betrayal has done to me!” Harry says, looking back down at the jar.

“So I should never go anywhere new without you ever again, is that what I’m hearing?”

“Yes, I don’t know how much clearer I could’ve been,” he says. Harry points at the jar. “What did you do to this poor tennis ball?”

“It was an old one from the community rec center,” Louis says. “They were going to throw it out so I snagged it.”

Nodding, Harry opens his mouth but then stops to look up with confused and fearful eyes. “You didn’t use my nutmeg I ordered from the Banda Islands did you?”

“Of course not,” Louis says. “I wouldn’t touch anything in that kitchen unless you put it in my hands. I got a small packet from the corner store.”

Throughout Louis’ answer, Harry’s face softens.

“So you’re telling me I got a 66%?”

Louis takes the jar back and looks at it considerately. “Nah. Yuzu kinda smells like grapefruit. I think you passed with flying colors, baby.”

“A hundred percent?” Harry asks, like he’s in awe of himself. “Well, that definitely earns at least a large sundae, don’t you think?”

Louis grins at him. “Whatever you want. You earned it.”

Harry holds up the blindfold. “So… I should… put this away?” There’s a spark of heat in his eyes and a smirk on his lips.

“I don’t think so,” Louis says, leaning across to take it from him. “We’ve still got to run through sense of taste. Think this’ll come in handy for that.”

“Mmm finally,” Harry says, getting up from his chair and taking the step towards him, lacing his fingers through Louis’ hair as he bends down. “You know that's my favorite test.”

“Mhm, mine too,” Louis says, right before his boyfriend kisses him.

#this is an apology for chapter 10 #there will be no further apology snippets though sorry <3 #(almost) exes to lovers

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greyias · 2 years

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FIC: Chance Encounters - Chapter 10

Title: Chance Encounters Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight (pre-relationship) Rating: T Genre: Canon Divergent AU. Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn Synopsis: Even the smallest change can have large, unseen ripple effects. When Theron Shan books a voyage on the Esseles, he has no idea how a chance encounter with a Jedi Knight will change the course of his life. A canon divergent alternate universe examining what happens when Theron and the Hero of Tython meet much, much sooner. Author’s Notes and Spoilers: See Chapter 1.

If there was anything to be said about Theron’s unorthodox exit strategy, it was that their landing was mostly a soft one. And wet. And made an unpleasant squelching noise that was probably going to follow him even longer than the smell.

On the more humorous side, Theron might have finally found a foolproof way to pierce Grey’s cheery optimism. As they stumbled and slid down the pile of refuse, the look she fixed on him was caught somewhere between pure disgust and haughty indigence.

“You did that on purpose!” The fire in her eyes might have been more intimidating if her tone hadn’t come out a pure pout. The image of pure indigence was accentuated by the delicate trail of an unidentified substance slowly trickling down the side of her face.

“Saving us from certain capture, excruciating torture, and death? Yes, I think that was on purpose.”

“You pushed me!”

“You were being too slow!” He insisted, which only caused the heat in her glare to increase tenfold. Instinct had him backing up a few steps. “And in my defense, you pushed me with your mumbo jumbo back in engineering.”

“That’s different.” She sniffed indignantly at him before getting a whiff of the incredible smell wafting off them both; her face turned a shade greener.

“You know you have a little something here.” He mimed swiping across his forehead.

Her nose crinkled in annoyance, causing that same smattering freckles to scrunch together again. That, combined with the indignant noise that escaped her throat, nearly did him in. As it was, he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing — which was a mistake, as he got a small taste of the muck and yeah. Okay. Maybe he deserved that a little.

“Look on the bright side,” he said.

“What bright side?”

“You can’t smell the whiskey that was spilled on me anymore.”

Somehow, this seemed to only make her look even more aggrieved. “That’s your bright side?”

“I mean, for me.”

She snorted out a long breath that made her nostrils flare out, and he didn’t think it was all due to irritation this time. “This is not funny, Theron!”

“I’m not laughing!” He insisted, although it was probably not altogether too convincing, as she looked like a leaf-tail whose cheeks were stuffed with cyanoberries.

“You must be the most infuriating person I have ever met!”

For all the heat in her words, she didn’t really sound angry, more… confused. Which was an emotion he had become well acquainted with ever since she had sat down next to him on the Esseles.

“Likewise.” He found himself saying.

For a long moment they just stood there, looking at each other with tense expressions that veiled a tangled mess of emotions like a thicket of nettles. Then she sighed, the anger bled from her features, leaving her looking tired.

“We should probably find a way out of here.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Probably.”

The walk back to the hangar bay was mercifully short and uneventful. They tried to make themselves halfway presentable with some cleaning cloths Theron had stashed in an inner pocket. His beloved jacket would definitely have to be laundered — but he had no clue if the rest of his ensemble would be savable. Someone was definitely going to be paying for his dry cleaning bill. Theron just didn’t know who that would be yet.

Just as he was musing whether he could finagle expensing the whole thing to the SIS without getting an earful from the Director about excessive costs, they rounded the last corner to the hangar bay. However, instead of the wide-open door they’d left, a shimmering red force field blocked their path.

“What the—?”

He was cut off as a figure slammed into the force field from the other side, hitting it so hard that he bounced off and hit the floor with a grunt. With a start, he recognized it as one of the security guards that had accompanied them here. Beyond the pulsating red glow of the barrier, they could only watch as a small squadron of troopers and a figure in a dark hooded robe attacked Asara and the rest of the security team.

Blaster fire rang out as the Esseles crew exchanged fire with the Imperials. In the distance, two more security guards flew up in the air as if being lifted by an invisible force. Theron hesitated only a moment before rushing to the controls on the door, drawing his slicer spike.

“There’s no time for that!” Grey grabbed his wrist and tugged him out of the way.

Before he could even question her, her lightsaber was already in hand. It blazed to life in a burst of blue and she skewered the entire panel with the controls. With a loud pop, the panel sparked and died, and the force field blocking the hangar faded away.

“Well, I guess that’s one way to slice open a door.”

Grey took a precious moment to give him a disgusted look for the poor joke before sprinting off into the hangar, lightsabers in hand. He was right on her heels, his blasters already drawn.

The scene that greeted them as they entered the hangar was one of pure chaos. Acrid smoke wafted up from the surfaces and bodies where blaster fire had found its mark. The final security guard slumped to the floor with a hole in his chest as the hooded figure turned to the disguised Asara, who had been flung to the ground during the battle, and now was desperately crawling backwards to put space between her and their attackers.

The hood obscured the face of the tall, robed figure as his arm stretched out, hand clenching the air dramatically, as if he were grabbing hold of a great unseen weight. Asara let out a choked cry as something yanked her upwards, her eyes going wide as she clawed at her throat to get some air. The figure’s head cocked to the side, as if able to hear — or maybe just sense — their approach and whirled around in one swift move, hand still in the air as Asara struggled helplessly.

The Sith, because what else could he be, was young, probably not any older than Theron, if that. However, his sickly gray pallor made him look aged beyond his years. An expression of what could only be described as glee lit up in his red eyes as his gaze fell on the Jedi rapidly advancing on him. With a positively feral grin, he threw Asara aside, eager to toy with his new prey. The ambassador landed in an ungraceful pile on the floor.

“At last,” the Sith’s words dripped with both venom and anticipation, “Kilran promised me an actual challenge, but I was thinking he wouldn’t deliver.”

Theron slid a look over at Grey, but her gaze didn’t waver from their new opponent. If this was her first time facing off against a user of the dark side, she didn’t let it show, as she had slipped back into that calm, unyielding mask of hers.

“I would ask that you set your weapon aside,” she said in an even, measured tone. “We can settle this peacefully if you let it.”

The Sith let out a loud snort of derision. “Peace is a lie.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Theron muttered. “We’ve all heard the spiel.”

A single, disdainful look was spared for him. “Your betters are speaking, insect.”

Despite himself, Theron’s brows rose in both surprise and indignation, but the only sign that his Jedi companion had even heard the brusque dismissal was a single muscle that twitched along her jaw.

“And does my ‘better’ happen to have a name? Or should we just refer to you as Darth Asshat?”

“You may not refer to me at all,” the Sith bristled. “This is a conversation between two ancient foes.”

“You two literally just met. Your rivalry has all the history of a hundred and twenty seconds.”

“I grow weary of this tiresome babble.” The Sith flicked his eyes back to his target. “Do you not have anything to say for yourself, Jedi?”

“You do not look old enough to have the title of Darth,” she mused. “Nor do I think my companion’s appellation is appropriate.”

“I am Vokk.” The Sith’s face contorted into a sneer. “And with your defeat, I shall prove myself worthy of inheriting the title of Lord.”

When that statement didn’t get the desired reaction, he drew one of his lightsabers in a smooth motion. The red blade bursting to life with a loud snap-hiss. It cast an eerie glow across his unnatural gray pallor and seemed to almost make the red in his eyes aglow with power and madness.

“The way of a true Sith is to destroy a dangerous foe. I will carve your heart from your chest — and your fellow Jedi will sense your defeat. As will my master!”

“O-kay,” Theron dramatized the word by drawing it out, “someone has an active imagination.”

Grey’s lips quivered between stoic resolve and a smile threatening to erupt. Ultimately, common sense won the battle as her expression steadied into its now familiar facade, even as Vokk’s expression twisted with outrage.

“Do not worry, worm, I will cut your tongue out with my lightsaber once I finish with my foe.”

“Oh, good. I was feeling left out of this conversation.”

“Sparky, I think to be left out, you must stop talking first.” Grey’s expression didn’t budge from its neutral mask, but he thought he heard the barest trace of humor threaded through the comment. But still, point taken.

“All right, Blondie,” he emphasized the nickname as he shot her a look. “Why don’t I leave you two to your ancient struggle of light versus dark, then? Me and the boys here will make do on our own.” He motioned to the troopers behind Vokk with his head.

Apparently Vokk had tired of not being the center of attention for several seconds in a row, and stabbed a lightsaber straight for Grey’s heart. She deftly parried the blow with a flick of her wrist, sparks flying as the two blades met.

Theron pushed away from the spot, twisting to shoot at the troopers as he dove for cover behind a stack of nearby crates. The aim was wild, but the effect was to send the troopers scattering back out of range. They returned fire, their shots going wide and hitting the floor, walls, and ceiling as he quickly ducked behind his impromptu cargo shield.

From his shelter behind the crates, a sharp bark of laughter momentarily grabbed his attention. Instinctively he turned to the source of the sound to see the two force users locked in a dangerous dance, their feet moving with a startling speed. The result was a blur of red and blue as their blades clashed together repeatedly in a colorful shower of sparks, with neither opponent gaining any ground on the other.

His attention was pulled back to his current situation when a blaster bolt pinged dangerously close, punching a smoking hole in the crate just inches from his head. While Theron had been distracted, one bolder trooper had left cover and repositioned to get a better shot at him behind his temporary cover. His targeting implant adjusted his arm minutely, helping him aim precisely at the narrow gap between the chest plate and shoulder guard — and the trooper went down with a cry.

The close call sent a surge of adrenaline through him. Outnumbered as he was, it would be tempting to lean into the rush and let it buzz through his veins, to allow the red haze to descend and fog his awareness. A distant echo from the past rose unbidden: Ngani Zho telling him to open his mind to the present situation, to allow awareness to fill him and distractions to fall away. There was always a solution to every problem. It was just a matter of being open to its possibility.

Perhaps some lingering resentment should have surged forth, but he didn’t have the luxury to indulge in it right now. Instead of squashing down the voice like usual, he chose to listen to the words instead. He took in a deep breath to center himself, and then surveyed the room, taking everything in and processing in it.

The remaining troopers had sought refuge behind some half-unloaded cargo — and forgotten, judging by the layer of dust that had settled across the tarp stretched across it. They would peek out from behind it to take potshots at him, but had apparently been so focused on him, they’d missed the bright red warning sign on one barrel labeling its materials as highly explosive. One well-aimed shot would probably be enough to pierce the barrel and ignite the materials inside.

Theron weighed a few other tactics before taking aim at the barrel and pulling the trigger. The shot plowed into the barrel, punching a hole straight through and drawing a burst of sparks that set the volatile chemicals inside ablaze. Rather than reveling in his success, he immediately took off running in the opposite direction to put as much space between him and the oncoming inferno.

The ground shook beneath him as the barrel detonated into a fireball that sent the bodies of the troopers flying. He leapt over another stack of crates, flames and debris flying towards him, and narrowly escaping a chunk of jagged metal hurtling at him. Distantly, he could hear it clatter and scrape against the ground as his ears rang from the blast. He landed in a crouch and peeked back to see a large blackened ring where the cargo had been.

During all of this, the lightsaber duel had moved closer to Theron. He looked over in time to see one of Vokk’s red blades come down in a heavy blow aimed at Grey’s head. She caught it between her two crossed lightsabers in front of her. His guts clenched in anxiety as he waited for the larger, more imposing figure to force down his opponent’s blades. But he’d forgotten how capable she was, and to his relief and amazement watched as she reversed the momentum of the strike and sent her opponent stumbling backwards.

Vokk let out a bellow of rage and frustration at being outmaneuvered, quickly regained his footing. His eyes blazed with rage at Grey, but she returned the stare with an almost unnatural calm. This steadfast confidence from his mortal enemy of three minutes only made Vokk angrier.

Hate practically radiated off of the Sith apprentice. He snarled, looking around wildly until his gaze landed on Theron and the burning chaos and wreckage wrought by the spy.

“You,” he seethed.

Vokk gave a quick flick of the wrist, and Theron’s entire world became a blur as he went flying across the room. He slammed into the ground, his head bouncing off the floor with the impact. Stars exploded across his vision, darkness flickering at the edges. The first sensation to register beyond the wildly spinning world was the cool, metal grating pressing into his cheek and a distant ringing in his ears.

He pushed up onto his elbows and tried to get his bearings. The world swam out of focus with the movement, and it took a moment for his vision to clear. The various blurs of the world came into sharp focus just in time to see an airborne Vokk, triumph and hatred gleaming in his eyes as his lightsaber aimed to cleave Theron in two. Even if Theron had his full faculties at that moment, he had barely enough time to process the scene, let alone react.

Someone shouted something that might have been his name before a vision of tan and gold slid out of nowhere in the split second before Vokk skewered him. He had hardly recovered any of his precious equilibrium when it was once more upended by something considerably more substantial than Vokk’s Force throw, and he once again was sent flying backward.

This second landing was softer, but the world still pitched sickeningly as he hit the ground with a grunt of pain. He had just enough presence of mind to roll with the impact this time, shoving himself up into a half-crouch as everything swayed with the movement. It took another precious moment for him to focus again and understand what had just happened.

Grey was standing in the area where he’d just been pushed away from, her eyes wide and face pale. She held up a single saber in front of herself as a defensive gesture, a tremble running through the typically firm stance. Theron’s relief at being alive quickly gave way to horror as he saw her other arm hanging uselessly at her side. The sleeve of her shirt and tunic burned away completely. Blackened flesh peeked out underneath the tattered remains of the sleeve. Her second lightsaber had been flung several feet away as she’d received a glancing blow from Vokk’s lightsaber when she’d thrown herself between it and Theron.

The Sith’s mouth curved into a wicked smile as he raised his twin blades to strike a blow at the injured Jedi.

The darkness at the edges of Theron’s vision brightened into an crimson that pulsed in time to his rapid heartbeat and the pounding in his head. He hadn’t even registered that his fingers were tightening around his blasters, nor was there any thought in his mind other than a percolating anger quickening, boiling over into rage. He didn’t bother to aim, letting his targeting implants do the work as he unloaded shot after shot at Vokk.

The Sith was caught off guard by the sudden onslaught from a presumably downed foe, retreating several paces as he narrowly deflected the blaster fire. Red eyes first widened in disbelief, then narrowed in rage as he raised his hand to use the Force once more.

Dark purple electricity arced from Vokk’s fingertips, but this time Theron was ready and rolled out of the way from his semi-crouched position. The moment he had cleared the blast zone, Theron was struggling to his feet, firing wildly in Vokk’s direction with both blasters.

A few of the wild shots hit their mark, and smoke curled up from Vokk’s singed flesh. He snarled in pain and fury and his hand shot out again to send another blast at Theron. Before the Dark Side energy could finish crackling and unfurling from his fingertips, the snarl turned into a sickened gasp. Vokk looked down to see a single blue blade buried hilt-deep in his chest.

Vokk’s knees buckled as disbelief and anger warred in his expression. His gaze first shifted to Grey, whose face was set in a grim and determined mask, then up to meet Theron’s unflinching stare. As if, even in his last moments, he couldn’t comprehend the fact that this puny Force-blind spy had contributed to the downfall of this supposed great and mighty Sith.

With a final hiss, Grey’s saber deactivated, the blue light vanishing as Vokk collapsed facedown with a thud. Her lips pressed together, face set into an unreadable expression as she stared at the body at her feet. Even though she was still standing, it was clear at this point she’d exhausted the seemingly infinite reserves she’d been drawing on all day.

Sweat beaded on her forehead and neck, dripping down beneath the collar of the ruined tunic. With her good arm, she still held the hilt of her lightsaber with a white knuckled grip, her posture so rigidly tensed it seemed she might break with the slightest movement. Her injured arm still hung limply, the wound clearly visible through the charred cloth of her sleeve. The lightsaber blade had cauterized immediately it, so it wasn’t bleeding freely, but still looked extremely painful.

When she eventually raised her head to meet Theron’s gaze, exhaustion and pain shone through the cracks in her stoic mask.

“Are you okay?” Her question came out almost as a breath as her legs gave out and she collapsed to the ground.

His lunging forward to catch her was more of a natural reaction than an active thought. The entire world swayed with the sudden movement, his stomach clenching uncomfortably as his equilibrium tried to catch up. He grabbed her just barely, and eased them both gently to the floor.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, too quickly and entirely unconvincing.

“You,” he muttered as they both slumped against each other, their foreheads touching, “are the most stubborn woman I have ever met.”

“Your face.” With her good hand she reached towards where his head had hit the ground, but seemed to realize what she was doing at the last moment and let it drop.

He winced, now that the adrenaline was fading, noticed the cool sensation of trickling liquid, and belatedly realized that maybe it wasn’t all sweat. “We certainly make a fine pair, don’t we?”

The laugh she let out was quiet and strained, but there was a note of fondness behind it. “Now that’s not something I ever thought I’d hear you say, Sparky.”

His chuckle was half-hearted. “I thought I told you to call me Theron.”

“Sorry. Force of habit.”

In the wake of the battle and surrounded by carnage, the hangar was eerily quiet. Compared to the earlier cacophony of blaster fire, explosions, and lightsaber combat, the relative silence was a stark contrast. The only sound outside of their haggard breathing was the fizzling from the flaming debris of the cargo that Theron had used as an impromptu incendiary device.

“We should get moving,” she said after a moment, “before—”

The loudspeakers drowned her out as Kilran’s voice seeped out of the crackling speakers. “I’ve just given the order to charge up our main turbo lasers. In a few minutes, your pathetic ship and all of your pathetic friends will be nothing but debris.”

“That?” Theron asked.

“That.” Grey breathed a sigh.

“No rest for the weary.”

“I am afraid not. Can you check on the ambassador?” At her question, Theron’s gaze settled back on her injured arm and she shook her head at him softly, as if sensing his thoughts. “Despite my injury, I am still capable of walking.”

The skepticism must have shown on his face, because she gave a soft huff of exasperation as she pushed herself to her feet with a single movement. He didn’t bother to check the frustration in his own sigh as he carefully picked himself up. Thankfully, the world was deciding to stop spinning so much, and he could make his way over to Asara. She was conscious, and even if her thanks were uttered hoarsely as he pulled her upright.

She looked around at the smoldering mess of the hangar, and the bodies of both their attackers and the security guards that had given their lives in her defense. Her brows bunched up into genuine contrition. “So much death.”

“Too much,” he agreed quietly.

“We don’t have time to take them with us, do we?” Her voice was still quiet and raw from the abuse she’d taken at the hands of Vokk. At the soft shake of his head, she bowed her head. “Then we get back to the ship to save what lives we can.”

After retrieving her lightsabers, Grey had joined them at the shuttle. As she eyed the pilot’s seat with intent, Theron made an executive decision and firmly steered the stubborn Jedi to a bench in the back of the shuttle, while Asara quickly took her place at the controls.

It was was for the best. Of the three survivors of their little counter-boarding party, at this moment, Asara was the best candidate to pilot the shuttle. She had a clear enough head and vision to operate the controls, or at least, better than a one-armed Jedi and a possibly concussed spy.

As they took off and cleared the hangar, Theron stared out the view port at the wreckage and bodies of their fallen comrades. There had been too much death and bloodshed. But perhaps — he thought as he looked back at Grey, leaning against the bench, clutching her injured arm — it hadn’t all been in vain.

Next Chapter

#swtor fanfiction #theron shan x jedi knight #Theron Shan #Female Jedi Knight/Hero of Tython #oc: greyias highwind #otp: adorkable #au: chance encounters #swtor #fanfic #greyfic #finally managed to wrangle this monster #(i think)#in which theron does what he does best #snark at bad guys #and cause absolute chaos wherever he goes

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casspurrjoybell-28 · 5 months

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Alpha's Temptation - Chapter 37- Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

When we get to the bathroom, my jaw drops.

It's been completely transformed, rose petals scattered across the floor and counter and even floating in the bath.

There are candles lit up all around the room, contributing to the amazing smell that wafts through the air from the steaming herbal bath water.

But that's not all.

Beside the tub I'm greeted by a breakfast platter laid out on a small table.

It's filled with chocolate croissants, avocado toast, different types of bagels, mini pancakes with whip cream, containers of jam and butter, bacon, scrambled eggs and a platter of fruits and two steaming mugs of tea.

"Oh Daemon," I tear up immediately, burying my face in his shoulder.

"This is what you were up preparing all morning?"

"Awe, my little crybaby," he coos, bringing me over to the tub and putting me gently in the water.

I sniffle, wiping a tear as he strips to join me.

"I feel bad I was sleeping the whole time," Daemon gets in next to me, looking more energized than ever, which is the opposite of what I feel.

Him fucking the living daylights out of me on top of my heat just completely threw me for the loop.

"Don't feel bad. All I want to know is if you like it," he says, pulling me onto him so I lie back against him, cradled in his arms.

"I love it. So much. Thank you," my lip trembles with the threat of more tears.

I can hardly believe someone would do all this for me.

That to him, I'm worth time and effort.

"Then that's all that matters."

I feel his lips kiss my nape.

"Hungry?" he asks, reaching over to the plates of food.

Immediately I realize how ravenous I am and I eagerly nod.

"Yes. This looks so good," I clap my hands together, turning to smile at him.

He guides a strawberry to my mouth and I bite into it gratefully, not able to suppress the noise of appreciation I make at the fruity flavor gracing my tongue.

Then it becomes apparent to me that he's intently watching me chew it.

"What?"

"Just imagining something else you could eat."

My face reddens.

"And here I thought you were being a gentleman."

"Hey, I am a gentleman. You better tell your friends that I am," he says, mock-offended.

I cross my arms, raising an eyebrow at him.

"The only thing I'm going to be telling them is what a beast you are,"

"This beast knows you like it," he smirks at me, eyes darkening.

"Hmm maybe..."

I give him a teasing kiss on the cheek then reach over hungrily for the chocolate croissant.

I devour it in a minute flat and Daemon laughs at me when I reach for another one.

I offer him a bite to which he responds to by biting off thee quarters of it.

"I said one bite," I giggle at he struggles to chew it, cheeks stuffed with the pastry.

Then he accidentally drops a handful of blueberries in the water and I die laughing, slumping against his chest.

I can't help the little snort that comes out.

"The little piggy's made his return," he teases.

"Hey," I scrunch my nose at him.

Then an idea pops into my head for retaliation and I quickly reach over to dip my finger in the whip cream before smearing it on his nose.

He scrunches his brows, wiping it off with his fingers.

Then he reaches towards me with the white cream and I screech, backing up in the water.

"Get back here," he snarls playfully.

"No," I squeal as his hand nears my face.

When it appears this is a fight I won't win, I decide to deploy a move of my own.

I grab his hand as it's about to make contact with my cheek, instead making his fingers come toward my mouth.

I lick the cream off of them, slow and sensually, keeping eye contact with him all the while.

I think my inner wolf awakening was really just my hoe awakening because I enjoy every second of Daemon watching me do it.

The mood alters from playful to erotic in seconds, his eyes darkening.

"So that's how you wanna do this?"

He goes to move toward me but I put my leg out, pressing my foot to his chest to stop him.

"Stay back," I order.

He growls lowly, grabbing my leg by the ankle and pressing his mouth to my sensitive skin.

I gasp as he grazes his teeth against my inner calf, sucking on the skin until a hickey has formed.

"What are you doing...?"

He moves up my leg, nibbling on the inside of my knee, then trailing his tongue over the inside of my thigh.

"Hmm wait..." I squeak, trying to pull my leg back as he advances on me.

For some reason I feel embarrassed.

"Your legs are too damn sexy," he grunts, lightly biting my other thigh.

The familiar pooling of desire starts again in my core and I whimper as his mouth reacquaints itself with a mark he already made last night.

"Oh..."

My elbow bumps against the fruit platter, sending more berries spilling into the water.

My moan falls short and we look at each other, smiles threatening to breech our lips before we both burst out laughing.

"I think we're even now, shortcake," he grins as I clamber back over to him.

I fish out the berries as his arms come to encircle my waist, burying his face in the crook of my neck and breathing me in.

"You smell so good," he murmurs.

"It's the soap."

"No. You've always smelled like heaven. Every time I'm around you your scent gets me hard."

I feel my face flush.

All these things he's been keeping from me.. .just thinking about how into me he's been all this time makes me feel so special.

"You have a problem."

I shake my head, trying to hide the smile on my face.

"How can a smell get you hard?"

"It's your smell."

I want to deny it, say that he's crazy.

But then I remember how good he's always smelled to me.

Everything about each other, from the start, pulled us in.

"O-okay," I reply dumbly.

"So you never thought about me like that?" he presses on, a teasing lilt in his voice.

"I don't know..."

I put my face in my hands, going impossibly redder.

"Tell me, baby," I sigh.

"Okay. I... did. I liked how big you were. That you were strong. Your tattoos, too."

"Am I going to have to compete with other inked Alphas that go to the gym?" he jokes.

I roll my eyes.

"Of course not, silly."

"Hey, don't blame me for being worried. Everywhere you go there's Alphas left and right, drooling all over you."

"No there is not..."

"I've seen it with my own two eyes. Every single damn time."

He squeezes me close, his stubble tickling my neck.

"You just assume that. You're too overprotective," I giggle.

"And I always will be when it comes to my shortcake."

I tear up again, just looking at him with my bottom lip puckered in a pout.

He chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to my lips.

Then we rest for a bit, both eating various bits of the amazing breakfast he prepared.

Well more like he eats three giant bagels, inhales the half the eggs and bacon 'saving the rest for me' all while I nibble on my technically second chocolate croissant since he ate most of the other one.

Daemon lifts a mug of tea to my lips, holding it steady so I can drink.

"It's not too hot?" he asks me from over me, chin resting on top of my head.

"It's perfect."

Once I've had my fill I tiredly yawn, snuggling up on his chest with my eyes closed.

I mean it when I say there's no place I'd rather be than in this moment.

I'm so grateful.

That I have a mate who would do this much for me.

He's treating me like a princess, making me feel so loved.

I relax in the luxuriously hot water, letting out a little sigh as I drape myself over him.

"Want to wash your hair first?" he asks and I nod.

He knows me so well.

That I can't stand the feeling of my hair being greasy or dirty.

He reaches for the shampoo, squirting an appropriate amount into his hands.

He guides me to arch my head back, getting my hair wet before he lathers it with the soap.

He massages my scalp gently and I sigh in pleasure.

Who knew someone washing your hair could feel so good?

When he's done he rinses it with the cup on the side, kissing my nape once when he's gone.

Then he decides to start washing me with the bubbly soap.

I let his hands roam all over me, lathering it into my skin and getting me squeaky clean.

Touch like this from him feels so good, so affectionate and I let out little noises of appreciation.

It's not long before I feel something hard pressing under me.

"Daemon."

I turn to look at him like he's crazy and he just grins sheepishly.

I shake my head in disbelief.

How can he get hard after doing what we did only just a few hours ago?

Sigh. Alphas and their unparalleled amounts of libido.

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aparticularbandit · 2 years

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Finding Family: Part Five: Chapter Thirty

Summary: When America begins universe-hopping again to try and find her moms, she realizes that’s too much scope for her. She looks for smaller scope, and instead she finds Wanda.

AO3

The cloud dissipates from around them, and Kate unlocks her arm from Agatha’s before stumbling forward towards the nearest trash can, coughing like there’s something stuck in her throat, somewhere between gagging and dry heaving. Agatha’s sure somewhere in the English language there’s a word for it – retching is close enough in texture, but it’s much drier than the image retching evokes – but she can’t quite think of it. She gives the girl a hard slap just between her shoulder blades, enough to force Kate to give a final cough before glaring up at her. “What was that?”

“Simple teleportation spell, dear. Didn’t mean to make you lose your breakfast.” Agatha taps her chin with one slender finger. “Or dinner.” She sighs. “I take it you don’t have much experience with magic, do you, sugar?”

“Nope.” Kate starts coughing again, hits her chest a couple of times, and then straightens. “I think I swallowed some of that cloud…thing.”

“Oh, you poor dear.” Agatha shakes her head. “Teleportation rules are like rollercoasters. Keep your arms and legs inside the moving vehicle at all times and don’t swallow the cloud.” Not that it’s actually possible to swallow the cloud. It isn’t really a consumable substance.

As they talk, Wendy unwinds her arm from Agatha’s and glances down the alleyway. Her nose scrunches up with disgust, and then she covers it with her sleeve. “Where are we, Hook? It smells worse than a pirate ship out here.”

Kate’s eyes widen, and she stares at Wendy. “You’ve been on a pirate ship?”

Wendy hesitates. “Well, no, but I assumed—”

“Assumptions make asses out of everyone,” Agatha interrupts, and Wendy glances away with a look of chagrin.

Kate sniffs the air. “You know, it’s actually not all that bad. This smells just like that alleyway next to my old apartment. Not the side I used for trash, but my neighbor Randall? It smelled a lot like him. Only better.” She wafts up with her fingers. “There’s no B.O. smell.”

Wendy ignores all of this and turns back to Agatha before asking again, “Where are we?”

“New York, of course.” Agatha offers her a smile that’s more fond than anything. “Where else would we be?”

Wendy just scrunches up her nose again, still covering it with her shirt sleeve. “New York stinks.”

“Always has, dear.” Agatha turns back to Kate. “Now, did you have some place in mind for us to stay, or do I need to come up with something?”

Kate raises an eyebrow. “What did you have in mind?”

Agatha looks up at the dingy brick complex, hands templed together in front of her. She doesn’t have a key mostly because she’s never needed a key. Magic unlocks doors well enough for her, and a key just means someone else can try to steal it from her (good luck, buttercup) and get into her apartment on their own. Of course, if they did get into her apartment, a nasty little surprise would be waiting for them, so in all honesty, the only person it would have hurt is the thief. Who shouldn’t have been trying to take what doesn’t belong to them in the first place.

Yes, Agatha is aware how hypocritical that sounds. So be it. Let her be a hypocrite. No one is stealing from her.

“Is that….” Kate glances to the building next to them. “Is that the Sanctum Sanctorum?”

Agatha doesn’t even glance over. “Yes. The Ancient One and I used to meet up for tea when they were in town. Quite a nice sorcerer. Not like the one who keeps the sanctum now. He’s so….” She waves a hand in the air.

“Arrogant?” Kate supplies. “Cocky? Hot?”

Wendy gives Kate a look and raises an eyebrow.

“What?” Kate says, and she turns away, brushing her arm with one hand. “I’ve got eyes, and he’s got hot dad vibes. Kind of like how—” She cuts herself off. “Nope, nope, not going to say that.”

“Not going to say what?”

“Puritan,” Agatha completes finally. She gives a half-hearted little shrug. “This isn’t a permanent home, but it’s a nice place when I want somewhere to spend my time.” Then she starts up the stairs into the complex, gesturing for the girls to follow her. “C’mon, girls. Let’s get inside and make sure no one has fucked with my apartment.”

Something in her twinges at the foul language. Agatha’s eyes narrow slightly. That’s odd. But the feeling passes quickly enough, and while she doesn’t exactly shrug it off, she does file it away to examine later. And then she shrugs it off.

The doorknob is just as grimy as Agatha remembers. The hallway smells just as much of smoke, although at least Wendy isn’t covering her nose with her sleeve the way that she had in the nearby alleyway. The lightbulb overhead still flickers ominously. The carpet on the floor still looks like the color theory meme, which was useful when…well. Agatha’s never dragged a dead body through her apartment, and she’s never killed anyone in the hallway, and normally when she kills another witch, there’s no bloodshed, just the hollowed out corpse, but it could be useful if she did knife someone down for whatever reason.

Or, you know, in one of the many, many attacks that various supervillains or aliens or monsters from other dimensions and universes have made on New York in the past several years. To be honest, Agatha’s kind of surprised this building is still standing, given its proximity to the Sanctum Sanctorum, but that have more to do with the protection spell she set up around it decades ago.

Agatha leads them five doors down, to the last apartment in the very back of the building, and three floors up, to the very top floor of the building. Neither of them complain about this, although it’s clear that Wendy is growing more exhausted with every step. She slumps forward, feet dragging up the stairs, but she makes it.

It’s when Agatha reaches out to open the door that Kate stops her. “It’s going to be locked,” she says. “Don’t you need a key?”

“I’m a witch, hon. Do you really think I need a key?” Agatha raises an eyebrow, and instead of grabbing the knob with her hand, she claps her hands together. The door opens without even a touch. She strides inside, lifting the lights with an equally gentle lift of her finger, and examines the runes she’s placed in the apartment itself. They haven’t changed in three years. Good. She’ll need to modify those if—

No. Give it some time. She wants to see how Wendy will react first.

If Wendy will react.

The apartment isn’t as bare bones as might be expected. There’s a navy blue couch with faded silver paisley looking out through the window, a coffee table in front of it with an—

Oh, right.

Agatha scrunches her nose and scurries in front of both of them, taking the teacup in her hands and hiding it behind her back as she turns to the girls. “You didn’t see that.”

“Didn’t see what?” Wendy asks with a yawn.

“Exactly.” Agatha points at her. She sees Kate raise an eyebrow at her again, and she sighs. “Look, kid, I expected to get back here a lot sooner than now. There may be some things you don’t want to see.” Or smell, although she doesn’t say that bit. “I was in a bit of a hurry.”

Kate keeps her eyebrow raised. “I thought you were a witch?” she says. “Can’t you just, you know,” she makes a sweeping gesture with one hand, “fix it with magic?”

Agatha gives her a blank stare. “The only witch you know is Wanda, isn’t it?” Before Wendy can correct her, she holds a hand aloft. “Ash, Wendy, Scarlet – all Wanda. All the Scarlet Witch. Do you know any witch who isn’t Wanda?”

“I know you,” Kate answers. Then she shrugs one shoulder. “Sort of.”

“So no.” Agatha crosses one arm about herself, elbow resting in her hand, other hand held aloft. “How to put this in a way you can understand, let me see.” She taps her chin. “Ah, yes. Wanda is a PlayStation 5. Top of the line. Amazing graphics. Can do pretty much anything you ask of her. Every other witch is a PlayStation 4 or lower. Still potentially good graphics. Still a lot of power. Can’t do everything the PlayStation 5 can. Make sense?”

“No,” Wendy says at the exact same moment that Kate says, “Sort of?”

Agatha takes in their confused looks and sighs. “The Scarlet Witch is a nexus being. She is the center of reality for this universe. Among other things.” She waves her hand dismissively. “Just by her very nature, Wanda – all versions of Wanda, unfortunately – have more power than me. They don’t need runes. They don’t need incantations. They can just do whatever they want, whenever they want.” She glances over to Wendy briefly. “Provided they’ve had enough training.”

Or their emotions go haywire, Agatha thinks but doesn’t say.

Kate nods slow. “So Wendy could fix everything. If she wanted to.” Her glance moves to Wendy. “Right?”

“Um.” Wendy’s lips press together. She knocks her heels against each other. “I…I don’t think I have enough training for that. And I’m tired.” She yawns again, covering her mouth with one hand. “Maybe in the morning? After I’ve slept?” She glances blearily about the room. “Where do we sleep?”

Agatha gestures in front of them. “There’s a couch.”

Before she even finishes speaking, Kate hops the back of the couch and spreads out on it, dropping her bag, quiver, and bow on the floor just in front of it. “Dibs!” She flashes Wendy a bright grin. “Sorry, but America got the couch last time, and you had your own bed, and I know you didn’t always use the bed, sometimes you slummed it out in the living room with us, but I get the couch this time.” She immediately tucks her arms under her head and stares up at the ceiling, letting out a relaxed, relieved sigh. “It’s not the nicest couch, but it’ll do. For a bed, I mean.” She glances to Agatha. “You got any extra blankets? Throw pillows are nice, but blankets, man.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Agatha says through gritted teeth. She presses her lips together as she turns back to Wendy then gestures again. “There’s a floor? I don’t keep extra beds. People didn’t really visit me for that sort of thing.” She doesn’t glance away. “I didn’t really want people visiting.”

Wendy yawns again. “That’s…that’s fine, if you’ve got blankets. I mean, I’ve slept a lot of places. Floor’s not so bad, just so long as it isn’t cold.” She meets Agatha’s eyes and gives her a smile. “Thanks for giving us a place to stay, Hook. We didn’t really think that far ahead.”

“I could’ve come up with somewhere for us to stay!” Kate says from where she’s stretched out on the couch. “You just didn’t give me the opportunity! I could’ve checked to see if my—”

Agatha stops listening. She’s not really interested in what Kate has to say. Instead, she reaches over and ruffles Wendy’s hair, offering her a half-fond smile when Wendy glances back up at her with an annoyed expression. Her head tilts to one side, and she whispers into her mind, Don’t thank me too much. New York isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Her gaze flits through the window to the sanctum next door. And if that Puritanical new guy’s around— She rolls her eyes. Woof.

Wendy just giggles.

Kate gives her a harsh glance. “What?” she asks. “What did I say? What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Wendy waves a hand at her. “Don’t worry about it! I’m just tired.” But she glances back to Agatha and gives her a bright grin, and that’s enough, really.

Agatha doesn’t like how that makes her feel.

At first, Agatha doesn’t sleep.

Her bedroom has a mottled collection of books and scrolls amassed over the centuries in one corner, most of their spells memorized but unwilling to be shared with the world at large. Every so often, she glances over to them, remembering where she found each one, considering running her fingers along some of the older parchment just to feel it against her skin again, but choosing, instead, to stay in her bed. The mattress is harder than the one Scarlet made for her; she’d never really liked the feather soft beds. She’d spent too much time on beds made of lesser materials that doing anything else felt wrong, and feeling wrong isn’t conducive to good sleep. She clasps her hands together just above her stomach and stares at the popcorn ceiling without really looking at it, thinking over her options.

She’s free now, isn’t she? Wendy freed her. So there’s no reason to ever return to Wanda’s house, even if Wendy and her little friend decide to go back. Somehow, she doesn’t think Wendy will care too much about that, and even if she does—

Agatha doesn’t sigh. She reviews. Wendy is another Scarlet Witch. A younger one, to be sure, and one that she has personally been training. That means – in theory – she should know all of the spells that Wendy knows. She knows what she hasn’t taught her. But that doesn’t mean Wendy can’t just make magic happen without even knowing what she’s doing.

So – if Wendy wants to force her back, Agatha supposes the child could do it easily enough. She just doesn’t think she will. For all that Wendy knows about her, she’s not scared of her, which does just fine. She’s never given Wendy a reason to be afraid. That was very intentional. Still is.

With her eyes open, Agatha lets her mind stretch out like mist again, tentatively touching the minds of her apartment’s other occupants. Even in her dreams, Kate is frustrated. Confused. There’s a blonde woman in them that reminds Agatha somewhat of her own mother, albeit much more conniving. On second thought, not like her mother at all. And Wendy—

Agatha isn’t surprised when the knock comes at the door, but only because she’s aware the girl is there before she even knocks. “Come in.” She lifts a finger, and the door opens as if she were standing there to open it herself.

Wendy enters, rubbing her eyes with one hand, and then glances up at her, bleary eyes widening. “You’re floating.”

“Mmhm. Helps me think.” Agatha slowly shifts, and as she does, she lowers, until she sits on the edge of her bed, one leg just crossed over the other, hands resting on the mattress on either side of her. “Is something wrong, my little Wendybird?”

Wendy makes a disgruntled noise and shuts the door behind her. Without thinking, her finger reach to one of two necklaces around her neck – a chain, from which a ruby red star dangles. “I couldn’t get to sleep,” she murmurs, not meeting Agatha’s eyes. “I know you aren’t having any nightmares – you’re, um, you haven’t been sleeping, I guess – but I wondered….” She pushes a hand through her dark hair and glances up. “Can I sleep in here with you? If you…if you sleep, if it wouldn’t bother you.”

Agatha’s head lists to one side. She examines the girl in front of her. Her lips purse together. “You won’t try any funny business.”

“No!” Wendy exclaims. “I mean, no.”

The repetition holds no offense, and for once, despite Agatha’s desire to be dramatic, to hold her hand to her chest and feign being seriously wounded by the words, she doesn’t. Instead, she examines Wendy a second time and then gestures her forward with one hand. “Come here.”

Wendy moves across the room, bare feet leaving tracks in the dust that Agatha, hovering just above it, hadn’t. She climbs onto the bed next to her, and Agatha gingerly wraps an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her against her side. “You have trouble sleeping alone, dear?”

It takes a moment before Wendy nods against her side. “You’re not the only one who has nightmares, you know.”

“I know.”

“I just…when other people have nightmares, they want to be comforted, and I always want to be with someone, so it’s always easier that way.” Wendy reaches up and fiddles with the second cord around her neck, drawing attention to it

Agatha recognizes that cord. Her fingers itch to touch it, but she chooses not to. “Having nightmares is a natural part of life. Everyone has them.” She rubs Wendy’s arm. “But if you want to stay here with your Hook, then by all means. I won’t bite.”

Mostly.

Wendy nods. “Thank you, Hook.”

It’s the gentlest thing in the world, the way that Agatha moves to the side of the bed that is always hers whenever she’s needed to share a bed with another person (for whatever reason she’s shared a bed with another person), the way she curls on her side but stretches her legs out beneath sheets and blankets that haven’t been used in years, the way that Wendy nestles against her, burying her head just against the hollow of her throat, tucking herself in so small that she just fits. Agatha slowly runs her fingers through the girl’s dark hair, letting them curve into the curls, and then leans down just enough to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “Sleep, my little Wendybird. No pirates will get you here.”

At her words, Wendy gives another gentle nod before tucking closer to her. She glances up, and for a moment, it seems as though, she, too, is going to say something. Instead, she offers her a sleepy smile and leans up just enough to press a kiss to Agatha’s cheek. When she pulls away, she flushes a bright scarlet, bites her lower lip, and swallows once before nestling against her once more and closing her eyes.

Agatha doesn’t need to reach into Wendy’s mind to know when the girl has fallen asleep; she can tell from the way her breathing slows and then settles, from the beat of her heart keeping a much calmer time. But as Wendy settles, something long dead in the center of Agatha’s chest tightens painfully. She ignores this as much as she can, instead ever so gently tracing a finger along the slope of Wendy’s neck and pulling on the thick black cord she recognizes.

At the very end of the black cord dangles a golden cage even more familiar to her, and inside that cage is a bright, sickly green stone.

Now, Agatha did not disappear during the Snap. She was not involved with the Avengers or their kin, although she picked up on the explanations they gave for why half of humanity suddenly disappeared. In fact, the surviving Sorcerer Supreme sought her out for the connection she’d had with the Ancient One and asked, futilely, for her help. (Request denied.) She’s certainly heard of the Infinity Stones that are supposed to no longer exist.

That is not how she knows this necklace.

For a moment, Agatha holds the golden cage in her hand, staring at the green gem. Then she tucks it just beneath the edge of Wendy’s shirt again. This stone holds no temptation for her as she is now. She knows better than to try and mess with her timeline, no matter how much—

Okay, so perhaps a little bit of temptation. But she ignores that. She can ignore that, unlike some people.

Agatha strokes a hand through Wendy’s hair again, tucking it back out of her face, and then lets out a breath. Her lips press together. How does she feel about this? How can she feel about this? She doesn’t know.

The worst is the voice in the back of her mind as she closes her eyes – both hers and not hers all at the same time – whispering gently, “Ah, so that’s where it is. Never thought you’d be the one to find it. Good girl. I’ll be seeing you shortly.”

It makes Agatha shiver, but she forgets it by the time she wakes up.

#bandit fic #finding family with wanda and america #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #america chavez #agatha harkness #kate bishop #mcu #queue

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lovelybarnes · 3 years

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verbena- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, mentions of other avengers warnings: none. this is all fluff about: y/n gives bucky flowers a/n: thank you to @hollandsvogue for the flower help!!

the smell of the verbenas in your hands wafts up to your nose while you jam your key into the lock of your apartment, grip tightening on the bouquet of gentle flowers. your dirty combat boots leave a small smear of dirt in the bottom of your door, even after you wipe them on the cheesy doormat sam gifted you when you moved in. you’re relatively clean for the hours after a mission, but the dirt and splatters of red that stain your suit and the stray twigs that reside in the messy strands of your hair show that it wasn’t a clean-cut undercover op. you prefer it; those types of missions, as clean as you come out of them, seem so much dirtier.

you push the door open with your hip, the gash on the palm of the hand that isn’t holding the assortment of flowers too angry and velvet to touch the cold of the doorknob. “hey, handsome,” you greet when you kick the door closed, walking towards the couch that your boyfriend is sitting on, watching one of the television shows you’ve referenced before.

“hey, doll,” he murmurs tiredly, his eyes clearly having just opened from a nap, but the pull of his cheeks as he smiles at you is bright. from his lap, alpine purrs, looking up at you and blinking as a hello. you lean over the couch to press a soft kiss on bucky’s forehead when he tilts his head at you. at the sound of alpine’s meow, you laugh, turning to her. bucky’s hand begins to pet her again, “she wants you to say hi to her, too.”

“i will,” you promise her, “but she’s very clean and white right now. the dirt on my hands will not go with her fur.” alpine meows again, almost in agreement as she settles back in bucky’s lap.

“how was the mission?” he asks, turning to you as you walk into the kitchen.

“it was a mission,” you hum, catching the reflection of the twigs in your hair in the microwave. you begin to pick at them with your free hand.

“what’s that?” bucky asks, eyes settling on the flowers in your hand. the sound of the cupboard when you open it leads alpine off of bucky’s lap to wander around the kitchen and stare at you. you look down at the bouquet, startling when you look back up and bucky is nearly in front of you.

“you’re sneaky today,” you inform, tiredness seeping into your words when you finally let it in the comfort of bucky’s eyes, “or maybe i’m just tired.” he scans you worriedly. “these,” you extend the flowers toward him, “are for you. i saw the flower shop selling them fresh when i was coming back home and i know they’re your favorite, so…” you offer them to him. “you always get me my favorite flowers after my missions, and i know you like verbenas, so…” you trail off again, beginning to feel nervous and foolish when bucky won’t react.

suddenly, he exhales quietly, shaking his head gently with a big grin adorning his face. he takes his flowers from you, tucking his nose between the petals to inhale. “thank you,” he tells you, pulling you in closer to kiss your nose.

you scrunch it up, “i’m all dirty,” you warn.

“i don’t care,” he replies flatly, kissing you again, “thank you. i love them.” he smells them again, before pulling one out as gently as you’ve ever seen anyone handle a flower before to place it behind your ear. he gazes at you for a few seconds before hugging his flowers to his chest, “i need a vase.” he announces, “where do we keep our fancy vases?”

a few days later, your apartment is warm with laughter and avengers, your friends sitting around your living room and kitchen.

“...and that’s how i found out steve wears captain america underwear. he wears my face on his ass,” sam chortles, making steve groan loudly, his pale cheeks warming with a sweet pink as he blushes.

“one time!” he says, “one time i ran out!”

“uh huh, then why were they in there in the first place?” natasha asks with a raised eyebrow, a wine glass pressed to her lips and her green eyes twinkling as she sits on the couch, alpine resting on her legs.

“i-” steve’s face contorts in thought, “gag gift. ‘had to be.”

you and bucky laugh again, unconsciously leaning into each other, “that’s nothing--” clint begins, settling his stare on tony, “last week, i saw tony step out of his suit naked--”

the avengers part into groups, those who want to have something on tony, and those who have enough. natasha and maria form their own where they talk about how exhausting it is to be the most mature in a room full of gods and ancient beings.

“nice flowers,” sam comments, eyeing the verbenas bucky put in the fanciest vase you guys have. “when’d you get them?”

“a day or two ago, i saw them in that cute little flower shop when i was coming back from a mission,” you reply. “i remembered verbenas are bucky’s favorite flower.”

steve nods, “his ma used to plant them every spring; daisies, forget-me-nots, and verbenas were always planted outside of the barnes household.”

you turn to look at your boyfriend, catching the pretty recognition in his eyes.

“so you just get them for him after each mission?” sam wonders after a econd, looking at you with his brows furrowed.

you nod, “there’s usually at least one bouquet with the ones he likes, so i get him one of them. why?”

sam’s shoulders raise, “i just think that’s interesting. ‘cuz i told you last week how much i liked orchids and i went on a mission two days ago.”

your lips curl into a grin, “i promise to bring you orchids from now on.” you offer him your pinky, wrapping it around his.

a day after everyone leaves, you and bucky begin to work on a small garden on your balcony, making sure to plant every single favorite flower of the avengers, as well as the same flowers bucky’s mother would plant-- right outside the apartment window so bucky would see them each morning.

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