storytimewithtibby

[storytimewithtibby]

*swings in on a vine like a monkey* fUkcnngg ugghh, can have a kids meal dad please mighty kids meal.

Warnings: None, but definitely kinda crackyRating: GWord count: 1071Pairing: TF2 Medic x ReaderSummary: Reader assisted Medic patching up the team and needs a break

     Every inch of you was sore, not from having gone out with the other mercs, but because you’d just spent the last twelve hours helping the Medic stitch up various limbs and torsos. There were still spots dancing in front of your eyes from the too-bright lighting and red. So much red….

“Why are we here?”

     His tone implied that you had dragged him to some back alley dive bar with syphilitic strippers languidly swinging from a pole. Not a McDonald’s that, to be fair, could have been featured in a Twilight Zone episode. The employee dully provided their name and waited for your order. 

“Because I’m hungry.” You finally replied, fidgeting slightly before meeting the person’s gaze. “I need a mighty kids meal, please.”

“Double cheeseburger or 6 piece nugget?” They droned automatically, and you felt a flicker of guilt showing up at four am. 

“6 piece please.” 

“Schatz… why are you-” Medic started to ask, with an expression somewhere between amused and irritated. 

“For a boy or girl?”

“Me!” 

     For the first time since you came in, the employee seemed to show flickers of life, a smile tugging at their lips. Tapping the order in, they handed you a cup, and for good measure also slid a milk across the counter with a wink. 

“Rough day?” They asked, for all the world suddenly giving the air of bartender ready to play confidant. 

“Very.” You agreed, eyeing the milk before handing it to Medic who had apparently been struck dumb. 

“That is a lot of blood, you okay?”

     Letting out an inquisitive noise, you looked down and saw the bloodstains that spattered you from neck to knees. Oh… Hazily you could recall finishing up the Soldier’s bandages, and half wanting to just collapse. But a small part of you wanted a reward, more than the baring of Medic’s teeth and his very loud praising. Something small, simple, cheap. 

“He’s a field medic and I helped today.” 

“Ah.” 

     There was a moment of shared exhausted silence before the sound of a hand slapping against the heating tray made you jump, but the employee simply turned around. Their hand slid into a bin in front of the tray and pulled out a few small plastic bagged toys and expertly flicked the tabs closed with one hand while trying to hide a yawn before facing you again. 

“To be honest I’ve seen a lot worse, and you don’t look hurt.” A final probe, their gaze flicking to the tall man standing at your side, then back to you with a raised eyebrow.

“Only my back.” You assured them, taking the box with a smile. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

     Carrying your treat to a booth, you slid in with a low grunt before realizing you hadn’t filled your cup. After a moment of glaring balefully at the empty container, you turned your attention instead to the box, struggling briefly before opening it and looking inside. Three toys, but you already knew that setting them aside, but underneath the rest of the box was a mix of fries and nuggets that was definitely not the standard amount. 

     Not bothering to count, you plucked a fry from the container as Medic slid into the booth across from you reaching out for a toy. 

“Could we not have stopped by a store to purchase a toy?” He inquired, wiping salt from the plastic with his finger. “There’s something… spooky about this place.”

“It’s four in the morning. Everywhere is spooky.” Plucking one of the other toys from the table, you opened the packaging and spilled the toy onto your palm letting the instructions flutter to the table. “But these are collectibles.”

“They are not.” Holding his free hand over the floor he rubbed his thumb against his fingers to rid them of salt before peering at the toy still encased. “I am not even sure they are real things.”

     Eyes rolling, you are another fry as you let the toy roll on your palm before opening the other one. It was hard to define a McDonald’s toy when it wasn’t a pop culture thing. But they were kind of cute, and sometimes dangerous. The edges may be dull but stepping on them in the middle of the night could still hurt almost as much as a lego. 

     Nothing on earth or under it hurt as much as stepping on a lego in the middle of the night. 

“That smells like something the Engineer might make.” He commented moments later as you mindlessly munched while playing with the toys you’d gotten. 

“That’s fair.” 

“I can see the sun is beginning to come up.” 

     He wasn’t wrong, you could see the world outside through the glass instead of just your own reflection. How long had you two been sitting there? When you looked towards the counter the employee was leaning on their elbows staring into space and you couldn’t blame them. 

     Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Medic reaching out for the little bird-like toy and tuck it into his jacket. Before you could tease him, however, he reached into the box and pulled out a nugget, squinting at it. 

“Excuse you?”

“I saw a documentary about the making of these nuggets, I do not think you should be eating them.”

“You say after I’ve eaten several already.” You grumble, scooting the box away from you clearly amusing him. 

“Can we go home now?”

     If it weren’t for the note of hope in his tone you might have taken offense, but any lingering adrenaline had faded from your system too. 

“I had hoped to take a long shower and go to bed, but this was also… interesting.”

“Uh-huh… Are you going to keep the little bird thing?” Sliding out of the booth, you tossed the box and all into the trash by the door. “I think Archimedes would like it.”

“That is exactly what I was thinking! And would he not look precious cuddling up to it in his nest with his other odds and ends?”

     He crooned about Archimedes the entire drive back to the compound, his tiredness waning in the face of his adoration of Archimedes and his many adorable habits. It wasn’t a terrible way to end the day, even if your stomach wasn’t as happy with the meal as you’d been planning on.  

[storytimewithtibby]

Hewwo...... anything fluffy with Geralt??As an x reader pls? uwu

Warnings: NoneRating: GWord count: 1000Pairing: Geralt x ReaderSummary: Reader was assigned to take care of The Witcher’s needs while in town, and the Inn is full.  

     The tavern was loud, louder than it had any right to be given the weather outside. But the monster that had been slowly decimating the population had been killed, that in itself was reason enough to celebrate. Even if the guest of honour was less than amicable, sitting silently in a corner in an attempt to avoid being dragged into the fray. Requests for details of the fight had been firmly denied, much to the disappointment of all.

     So instead they were all chattering about what must have happened, the only responses being offered from the witcher being a soft snort at the more elaborate ideas that were being tossed around. But once the speculation stopped on the current conquest, the others in the tavern began to tell tales of past witcher kills that had been heard by troubadours.

     Taking a tankard from the serving woman, you slithered through the crowded section around the witcher’s table, setting it down and earning yourself a curious glance. His gaze flicked towards the new tankard, and then to the one in his hand which was still half full. It helped that you were one of the few residents who hadn’t pestered him every step of the way, his boot kicking out the chair at his two o’clock for you to sit.

“How goes it, witcher?” When all you received was a grunt in response, you rolled your eyes.

    A few eyes across the way at tables adjacent made you smile, a small one to avoid starting anything, but you were amused nonetheless. At least four other patrons had attempted to sit with the witcher, and had received what could only be labeled a warning growl. Maybe next time the hamlet decided to hire a witcher they’d be less reticent about what they’d seen for fear of seeming weak. You hadn’t had any such qualms, offering information readily as well as what you could remember having overheard in town. Looking like a scaredy puss was better than sending a man off to fight only the gods knew what without enough information to avoid a maiming.

“You should sleep…’ You offered unwanted advice after his fourth yawn that was hardly hidden behind the tankard

“I’m not human, therefore, I do not require sleep.”

     That was a blatant lie, as had been proven over the fortnight the witcher had been in town, sleeping near your hearth as everyone else had been too superstitious. You’d had a few qualms yourself, but after a couple of days had realized despite his perchance to monosyllabic responses, or noncommittal grunts, he was a decent sort of person. And most definitely human, as had been proven by his care of his horse despite the loathsome name he’d provided it. Or the attentiveness he showed towards the bard who had briefly stopped the town before moving on to juicier taverns in a larger city.

     For someone that said he was inable to care, he seemed to do it often, and deeply.

“You’re an altered human, witcher. Still mortal, in a matter of speaking…”

“In a manner of speaking.” He muttered into his tankard though his lips twitched up at one end, catching the serving woman’s attention for another.

  An hour later he was still unwilling to budge, despite the fact that he’d slumped far enough in his seat to be sitting on his lower back. Which you weren’t sure how that was possible given his armor could only have so much give. When his eye caught yours, you lifted an eyebrow at him, not willing to hurt your throat to yell above the loud drunks. But he looked away again, and you felt exasperated. Eyes narrowing, an idea occurred to you, a small smile curling your lips as you leaned back in your chair, balancing on its back legs.

 “When a humble bard, graced a ride along…’ You could feel his eyes on you, and the look was not friendly. “With Geralt of Rivia… Along came… this… song…’

     In your defense, you’d assumed that not much would come of you singing the song, most of the people around you were too deep in their cups. But you’d underestimated drunken mob mentality. As you opened your mouth to start the next verse, someone behind you picked it up. Oh. Another voice, and another, Dropping your chin to look at Geralt as the tavern filled with the song at various points, you tried to look smug in the face of that scowl. 

     You were relatively sure that was the same look that had been on his face when he’d killed the horned devil or whatever the hell the song said he’d killed. On the spot. Sword unsheathed. Putting a hand out for your tankard to at least hide part of your face from him, you tried to act as if you hadn’t just set off the off key impromptu singing behind you.

“I think it’s time to go.’ He growled.

“To sleep?’

“Yes, fine! Anything to get away from…’ Lifting a hand, he motioned to the rest of the tavern and its caterwauling. 

     If you didn’t take the task handed to you by the mayor seriously, you still would have pushed anyways. It was clear the Witcher needed rest. Standing form the table, you tried to hide your amusement when he staggered to his feet and immediately yawned. Leading the way back to your home, you paused for him to unhitch his mare.

“Just so we’re clear, I’m not that tired.’

“Of course.’

“But it’s as good an excuse as any to get out of that tavern.’ He continued, stifling another yawn.

     Offering a non committal sound, you shouldered open the door and walked inside. He was right on your heels, fingers working the buckles that held his armor in place. Pausing near your bed, you tried not to laugh at the sluggish movements. 

“Good night, Witcher.’

     In return, Geralt let out a grunt, he scrubbed a hand over his face before settling down. 

[storytimewithtibby]

Warnings: None, it’s fluffy for the sake of needing cute. Rating: G Word count: 417 Pairing: Data x Reader Summary: Reader is an ensign enjoying Data’s company

     Taking a drink from your cup, you smiled as the Android continued his explanation. It had been going on for about twenty-five minutes, but your next shift wasn’t for hours yet. It had started with a bit of slang, Data beginning the flood with his trademark “Query.” and you’d explained. Guinan had popped in a couple of times with a refill for your drink. Her expression amused the longer he spoke. 

     And honestly there didn’t seem to be an end in sight, your lips twitching up into a smile as he managed to segue into another topic seamlessly. He was so pleased with his growing understanding of human vernacular, and you were more than willing to let him go on as long as he wanted. 

“Data,  maybe you should take a breath.’ Riker offered as he spun a chair to straddle it. 

     The android blinked, his ramble stalling. 

“That’s a good idea actually,’ ignoring the commander’s smile. “I didn’t fully understand your last point, could you circle back please?’

“Are you certain?’ He asked, the dismay that had begun to express itself clearing. 

“Yes. Absolutely.’

     Setting your, again, empty cup aside, you watched Riker slowly slide off the chair with a look of bemusement on his face. As Data clarified where you’d been confused, he started up again, smiling as you cradled your jawline on the heels of hands. 

“There’s a Pool on how long the ensign is going to last, if you’re interested.’ Guinan offered as Riker settled at the bar, turned to be able to watch the two. 

“How long as it been so far?’

“Half an hour.’

     Riker whistled softly, shaking his head as Data began to use the ensign’s cup to demonstrate something. There were other people in Ten Forward who were attempting to watch the pair subtly unlike the commander. 

“When is the ensign’s next shift, do you know?’ He finally asked. 

“They only just got off, so… thirteen hours maybe?’

“I’ll lay money on fourteen hours then.’

     Guinan chuckled, shoulder lifting and falling. “It’s where I laid my money as well.’

“I’ll let their supervisor know, maybe cut her in on the action, that the ensign is going to be late.’ Riker said slowly, smiling and offering Guinan a wink. “Though they shouldn’t make a habit of it, obviously.’

“Obviously.’ Guinan agreed, replicating a drink high in caffeine for the ensign who had asked another question much to Data’s obvious delight. “But it’s good for them both.’

“If you say so.’

[storytimewithtibby]

Warnings: None, it’s fluffy for the sake of needing cute. Rating: G Word count: 531 Pairing: William T. Riker x Reader Summary: Reader teases Riker about Jazz, currently one off 

     The tip of your nose slowly skimmed under his chin, fitting briefly into the cleft of his chin before passing over his lower lip. You could see the smile on his lips, and felt his fingers lightly tuck under your chin in turn. 

“Someone’s feeling playful…’

     His voice was low, his hands moving to cup your face, lips pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. Another was pressed between your eyes as you leaned to rest against him. It would be safer to say you were feeling soft, a noise kin to a snort escaped you when he kissed your left eyebrow, his hands moving down to your ribs, fingers lightly prodding at them before wrapping around you. 

“Though I do have to admit, this is nice.’ Riker sighed when you stopped squirming from being tickled. 

     It had been a non stop, mission to mission, kind of month. And now as the Enterprise casually impulsed its way to the next planet, you’d been unable to resist taking a moment to just enjoy his company. To just enjoy being together, hear his chuckle, enjoy the smell of the skin cream he liked to use. 

“If we see Q again it will be too soon, to be honest.’ A hint of exhaustion entered his voice, as well as frustration. 

“True. But until then I think Holodeck 3 is available.’ You moved your face out of his reach as he continued to try and kiss your right eyebrow that you’d been keeping out of your reach. 

“Oh?’

“Mmhmm, and a certain commander has been threatening to show me how well he can play a bone.’ You grinned at the soft scoff that escaped him. “That’s Slang for saxophone, right?’

“No!’ The word was half shouted before he noticed the look in your eyes, lips curling into a smile before laughing. “I don’t recall it being a threat, but you are in dire need of an education.’

“So it’s the flute?’ Alright you were feeling a little playful, writhing as his fingertips began playing along your ribs until you almost fell trying to get away from him. 

“Get to the lift you heathen.’ He demanded mock sternly, unable to avoid smiling as you offered an old fashioned salute. 

“Aye aye, Sir.’

     As you walked down the corridor ahead of him, you could hear him muttering under his breath. Walking a little faster, you turned to face him once inside the turbo lift and grinned at him still several steps away. His head cocked slightly to the side when he noticed, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“I’ll go get the deck set up. Jazz originated in Nashville, right?’ At his glower, and quickened step, you pressed against the back of the lift with a grin. “Holodeck 3, please computer.’

     You would have sworn you could feel his feet pounding as he sprinted towards the lift, squeezing inside as the doors slid closed. His mouth was already opened to correct you, before rolling his eyes as you burst out laughing. 

“A blasphemous heathen.’ He amended, watching you double over with laughter, arms crossing even as a smile continued to tug at his lips. “Nashville indeed…’

[storytimewithtibby]

Chapters: 2/?
Fandom: Outlast (Video Games)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Eddie Gluskin/Reader
Characters: Eddie Gluskin
Additional Tags: mentally ill reader, Forced Orgasms, coitus to black out, Breeding Kink, Marking, Blood Kink, Daddy Kink
Summary: after being away for so long you’ve finally made it back home, to Mount Massive Asylum.

[storytimewithtibby]

    The bark is rough on your skin, more so against your cheek as you watch two children laughing as they walk towards where you’d been relaxing. The female is louder than her sibling, she makes you smile as she explains her latest creation, why it had to be made. Her brother is affectionately exasperated, and you slowly stand to climb down and follow them. It’s not that you feel any responsibility towards them, though they are innocent as far as you can tell. More that you’ve discovered that either one or the other would get into trouble and it was always interesting to watch.

    But you’re disappointed, not even the gnomes can be bothered to torment them. Slipping from shadow to shadow beneath the old trees, you follow them as they take a circular path back to the clearing where they live, or at least for now they do. When they speak of this place there’s an echo of finite time, and you know that they’ll leave. Arms wrapping as far as they can around a tree, you watch them race towards the door, laughing and shouting. You hope that when they leave they plan on coming back again.

    Later, the sky a warm, rich display of colours, you watch one of the older men walk out of the house, ushering people out. So many, your nose wrinkling at the sight of so many humans, most of whom always seem to leave trash in the clearing that the younger ones have to pick up. As the last car leaves, he lets out a breath, slouching slightly as he pulls off his hat and tugging off the eyepatch he puts on over his glasses.

    He looks like the man who built the house, but he’s not, watching him arch backwards with a groan before slinking back inside. You know if you wait, the other man will come out, the one who found this quiet patch of land and built his home. Not just on the earth but in it, your fingers drum against the bark as you debate whether or not you want to wait. Just to complete the set, gaze resting briefly on a young man that clambers down the steps and to the truck you know waits on the other side of the abode.

    Unable to resist, you wait until the truck is gone to move closer to the house, briefly stroking the head of the goat left outside. Dropping down to the ground, you crawl under the wooden planks, squirming when needed until you find the hole in the roof to the room below that hadn’t been fixed. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end, there’s something down below that’s bad. Not in a way you can describe, but you bare your teeth in warning reflexively despite being unable to see any danger. It’s there though… Like a bad storm hidden just off the horizon.

    Edging closer, you only have a moment to realize your mistake, feeling the earth beneath you shift before spilling you and it into the hole. Breath knocked from your lungs, adrenaline races through your body hot and sharp as glass. Demanding you move even though your body isn’t listening. By the time you are able to move, each motion of your limbs is jerky and almost too fast, scrambling to your hands and knees to skitter backwards until you feel something against your back.

    No one is there, just that sense of wrongness, that sense of danger that has your stomach in knots. Licking your lips, tasting the acrid taste of your own blood, you slowly stand and stare up at the hole far above you. You can make it out, muscles still tense as you strain your ears trying to hear anything. Still nothing, carefully moving in the direction you can feel the bad thing, unable to resist its pull. You want to know, need to know. Peering around the corner, you freeze seeing the other man, the first one, asleep in his chair, head resting atop his crossed arms.

    It’s the closest you’ve been to any of them, nails scraping softly against metal as you cling to the corner forcing yourself to breathe. He doesn’t seem to have been woken by your less than graceful entrance, and it calms you a little bit. Dropping low to the floor, your muscles move smoothly as you drag yourself along the floor, moving towards the other side of the room. It’s there, the bad thing, behind a transparent barrier. Your fingers lightly press against it, looking at the swirl of light and ink, head canting to the side as you try to figure out what it actually is.

    Bad. That’s all your brain supplies, you hand moving along the surface trying to find a crack you can slide your nails into to try and pull it away. But a noise behind you makes your throat clench, head twisting on your neck to look over your shoulder. He’s moving, sluggishly to be sure, but definitely waking, your gaze flicking towards the entryway you need to use to escape before… Well, you don’t think he’s going to attack you, he’d be a fool to do so. But you’ve noticed that most humans can be very foolish.

    Moving very slowly, you edge along the wall, making sure to feel ahead of you to avoid knocking something over as your gaze stays locked on him. As you’re almost to the door, his eyes lock on you, and he doesn’t look very tired at all. There’s an alertness to his attention on you that makes you feel foolish.

“Hello.’

    Startled, you freeze as if a lack of movement would make you invisible, seeing his hand moving off the desk and out of sight. When you don’t answer, he repeats himself, eyes narrowing slightly. The muscles in his arm are tense under the fabric of his clothing, and you take another side step to your freedom. His body unfolds from the chair to stand, one hand behind his back. But you’re moving, turning to run, taking a quick look about you before moving to the wall and using your nails to dig deeply into it to pull yourself up it.

    You’re at the corner where wall meets ceiling when he bursts into the room, holding something in his hand that smells like the air after a lightning strike. Growling low in your throat, you scramble for the hole along the ceiling and claw your way out. You don’t stop until you’re deep in the woods, not wanting to wait around for him to find you. He didn’t look amused, or happy. Curled tightly, as small as possible, high in a tree, you try to calm yourself. He can’t find you, humans are all but blind in the dark, and even the light they carry wouldn’t be able to pierce the foliage far enough.

    Still, it takes a long time to fall asleep, listening as hard as you can to the night noises around you. Just in case. Weirder things had happened than a human finding a foolish creature that let their curiosity get the better of them.

—

    He does find you, days later, in the woods while you’re watching plaidipus pups play in the stream. They don’t like you, but they’re cute, so you were very careful as you’d crept out on a branch over their sport. So entranced by their clumsy movements, the day had passed from morning to afternoon before the sound of something snapping underfoot had put you on red alert.

    Your gaze met his, finding him staring up at you, from behind the tree you’d taken for a roost. He didn’t have the sharp cornered thing in his hand this time, instead he had a tube, that was scratching against the inside of the book in his hand. When he didn’t call out to you, or seem to be interested in anything else than staring, you slowly pushed yourself up onto your hands, and the tips of your toes, crouching on the branch. It’s worth the expression on his face to reveal your best defensive reaction, standing and sinking into the tree out of sight.

    The tree is old, as are most that are in the forest. The weight of its age is a heavy thing, pressing against you on every side. It’s not unpleasant, especially with the low thrum of life that vibrates through it. Sap, insects, birds, squirrels, you can feel the minute tremors they cause in the bark all the way to the center of the tree. Lulled, against your better judgment, you can feel yourself falling asleep, the tree’s voice a low groan that you can feel all the way to the core of you.

    When you wake, it’s with a peaceful feeling, reluctant to pull yourself free. But as understand as the tree was, it would only be a matter of time until the apathy shifted. You didn’t belong, not really, and it was best to leave before you became an unwanted guest. Your eyes open as your face escapes the bark, seeing the world has gone dark, slowly slipping the rest of the way out to crouch on the branch. He’s not below you, or anywhere that you can see as you scan the area around the creek. More than a little smug, you stand and stretch, hands reaching upwards as your body adjusts to freedom.

    Brow furrowing, your fingers skim past something soft, wiggling them and feeling it again before tilting your head back. On the limb above you, the man is staring down at you, and the only word you can think to apply to his expression is delighted.

“How did you do that? What did it feel like? Are you going to do it again?’

    He’s talking almost too fast for you to understand, practically vibrating, still rambling as the tube in his hand scratches rapidly into the book. In sharp contrast, you can’t seem to move. Sinking into the tree takes time, too much considering all he’d need to do is drop down and catch you. Pulse racing in your ears, your arms slowly lower, still staring at him as you try to recall how high you are. High enough that you’d have to be careful not harming yourself leaping down.

    His lips stop moving apart, pressing together and twisting into a slight scowl. Gaze flicking back and forth between his eyes, your foot shifts, trying to prepare yourself to leap and run the moment you find yourself on the ground. The book closes with a soft thud, making you jump slightly, your breath coming and going quickly. When his body leans slightly, you jump, flying through the air and landing on the ground in a roll that you stop with your nails digging deeply into the earth. Leaving furrows, you race through the woods to put as much distance as possible between you and the man you assume is still in the tree.

—

“It’s not that serious, Stanley! It doesn’t seem to be a predator.’

“Seems! That’s not exactly a hard fact. I thought you were a scientist, Sixer!’

    Despite not being able to see them, you can hear them, hand resting against the side of the house. Lightly gnawing on your lip, you slowly lever yourself up to peer in the window. All four of them are in the room, the children staring at Sixer in fascination as he turned his attention to answering their questions. It takes you a moment to realize they’re discussing you, Stanley pacing the floor and grumbling under his breath. You can only just make out Sixer’s description of you when the young boy pipes out excitedly that he can’t wait to see you for himself.

“Not a chance in Helsinki!’ Stanley shouts, startling you and causing you to drop back down.

    It’s hard to hear anyone but Stanley as he shouts loud enough his voice is a roar that frowns out everyone else. You’re not dangerous. To them. Unless they attack you, but you’re beginning to realize that Sixer is just curious, and you can understand that. Carefully standing, you peer in the window and find a pair of eyes peering into yours. A flash of silver, and the sound of an ear splitting shriek freezes you until the young girl moves away from the window. Crouching down, your legs tense before launching yourself upwards, scrambling the last few inches up onto the roof. Almost immediately, you find yourself off balance as the roof opens and he climbs out, his hands open and held out.

“Easy… easy….’ you recognize the tone, soothing and low. It’s the same you use on animals you find in the woods that are trapped or hurt. “Can you speak?’

    Nodding, your mind is racing as you try to think of a way off the roof. There’s something about heights and this man that you will laugh about later, much later, trying to calm your racing pulse.

“And understand me, that’s good.’

    When his hands lower, your attention is immediately shifted to his left hand, lips curling back to snarl a warning. They stop, though they don’t lift again, and you slowly force your face muscles to relax. As they shift, you snarl again, baring your teeth until he stops. Then it’s only his left and you crouch low as another snarl trickles past your lips.

“Oh… you think I’m going for the gun!’ His laughter, while nice sounding, is not appreciated, your eyes narrowing. “Sorry! Sorry, no I don’t- Well, you- I’m not going to try and shoot you.’

“You can’t shoot it, Great Uncle Ford!’

    Eyes flying towards the opening in the roof, you see the familiar white and blue hat before an eager face with wide eyes appears. Right on his heels is the other youngling, and you can’t help the growl that rumbles in your chest. None of them move closer, Ford reaching down to cover the girl’s mouth with his hand to stop the sharp piercing noise she’d been making.

“I’m not going to shoot an intelligent creature, Dipper...’ But he’s tense now, shifting so the younger humans are partially behind him.

“Look at the eyes, it must be like broad daylight out here for it.’ Shoving at the man’s arm, Dipper tries to lean closer. “Are those antlers or twigs, I can’t tell.’

“They seem to be natural, and dangerous! Stop trying to get around me, boy!’

    Slowly, very slowly, you stand upright again, eyeing the three of them and feeling exposed not knowing what the fourth is up to. He seems the more dangerous, volatile, your fingers twitching as you try to project an aura of serenity your not feeling.

    The words spoken next are muffled, before the girl reaches up and pulls the man’s hand away with a jerk of her head. “Oh my gosh it’s so pretty!’

“And what do I always tell you?’

“Pretty doesn’t mean not dangerous.’ She responded, though it didn’t sound as if she believed him. “I’m Mabel!’

    A brief nod, acknowledging her even as you decide your nerves can’t take much more of this, gaze flicking towards the opening in the roof.

“Ohhhh do you wanna come inside? You can absolutely come inside if you want to!’

“Mabel!’

    The sharp tone unsettled you, but not nearly as much as the young girl dipping out of the man’s reach and running towards you with a hand held out. She comes to a stop with her hand only a short distance away, beaming up at you.

“No, thank you.’ Behind her you can see that the man has pulled out his gun, your eyes holding on it before lowering to hers. “Your offer is very kind.’

“Oh. Okay, maybe next time you’re creeping outside the window-‘

    Her words are abruptly cut off as the man snatches her back, blinking at him and the tightness around his eyes.

“I wouldn’t have hurt her, Sixer.’ This appears to be less than assuring, his hand holding the girl against him as he stares back at you surprised. “The other man, he called you Sixer.’

“Ah, Stanley. Right.’

“Great Uncle Ford? How’s it doing that thing with its voice?’

“What thing?’ You ask, delighting the boy apparently as he all but bounces.

“You sound like… like uh…’

“Woodchimes!’ Mabel blurts out.

“Yeah kind of like that!’

    Unsure of how to take that, you fall silent. Behind you, you can hear the sound of something down below and turn to look. Stanley is standing below, with something in hand that you think might be a gun but it doesn’t look the same. It causes a very similar reaction, your body tensing, before suddenly lunging away from him and the three in front of you. Over the other side of the roof, you skid down before launching yourself in the direction of the tree line, landing hard enough your entire body feels jarred before dashing into the foliage to put distance between yourself and the clearing.

[storytimewithtibby]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2 Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Reader Characters: Arthur Morgan Additional Tags: been a while since I wrote 2nd POV Summary:

A friend gave me the prompt of first meeting, so I used her self insert as reference for the doctor bit.

For @sundewsunset

[storytimewithtibby]

Fingers skimming along silk that shimmered like starlight, the Great Lord of the Underworld sat upon his throne, his face a mask of indifference. But the grisly gleam of the dead that saturated the very walls with sickly luminescence exposed the hungry gleam that filled his eyes, uncovered the depth of longing that showed only in the way he stroked the fabric with short movements of his thumb.

He missed her,

his chest a chasm that echoed each sluggish thump of his heart, his clenched jaw a constant ache that throbbed throughout his head, caused his stomach to twist unpleasantly. Though he was still proficient in his duties, the closer the autumn season crept, the less patience he had for mortal's constant supplications, their averted gazes as they burnt their offerings in his name. Acknowledging those that came to his hall with a look that seemed as empty as a blind man's, a vague sort of curiosity flickering over his features before once again becoming still as stone.

What if she didn't come back?

Sightlessly, he lifted his head, chin tilting to face the stalactite decorated ceiling, peering through layers of earth and stone. The leaves would be drained of colour, not all, but the vibrant verdant foliage would be fading to the warm yellowed hue of candlelight before the others shed their own darker hues for shades of russet, making the canopy of tree limbs into a blaze of fire that seemed ready to consume the branches they shivered on.

Soon, very soon.

Hades had no sympathy for the mortals who were bemoaning the chilled air, the frost that occasionally crept along their windows, the poor who shook and chattered in their threadbare clothing. For six months he would have Spring, twenty-four weeks of warmth. Even as long as it sounded rebounding against the confines of his mind, it was never long enough, never enough time to steel himself for the bitter chill that flowed through his ichor filled veins when she left, took that subtle warmth with her above ground when their time was done.

Mere moments now.

Heavy tread carried him up the jagged stones that made the stairs leading to the gates that opened to the world above, singular smooth spots from many pilgrimages before. Hades could have passed through shadow, simply stepped off the dais where his throne was placed to where they were to meet. But he needed the time, needed a moment to try and curb the excitement and dread that warred in him. Grasping almost desperately at the surety that his Queen would be back in her rightful place, wracked with doubt that of course, she wouldn't. After untold centuries she couldn't just abandon him, had to have come to the realization what her coming home meant, that she tempered his apathy with her empathy.

She wasn't there.

Hands clenched into fists at his sides, he stared at the entrance through slitted eyes, protecting them from the unforgiving crimson rays of the setting sun. Over a millennium and she'd finally found some loophole, some miniscule crack to wiggle through and avoid one hundred and sixty-eight days hidden from the sun. Hoarded away from the warm air, greedily held prisoner with black silk and cool fingers, possessed by an unrelenting need to break her, own her, keep her. Stiller than the stone and shadow around him, Hades waited, chest barely rising and falling, dark eyes peering intently at the entrance. The vermilion rays were a cooler shade than they had been moments before, blessed dark finally descending, the sky awash with violets and cobalts as the moon slowly started to rise.

She wasn't coming.

Though he hadn't seemed to move, the shadows began to quiver, shifting subtly in tune with his rage and despair, cracks branching out along the rock as though a great weight were pushing against it. But there, the slightest hint of warmth in the now cool breeze that brushed delicately along his jaw, caressed his neck, kissed the backs of his hands. The scent wafting behind it, skittish as though afraid of being caught, sultry for all its hushed tone. It was the smell of warm soil, fruit just turning ripe on the trees, rain that misted down to gently dampen everything it touched. His body tensed, conflicted, to move forward, knowing what it meant. Or stay, stay and wait for her to finally come into view, allowing that perhaps his mind had started playing tricks in its reverent wish that she was only waiting for the velvet brush of night to arrive. But he couldn't lift either of his feet, which felt as though they were some mineral mimicry of a tree's roots, digging into the earth, holding him in place.

Hades? Don't move, don't break the spell, the wicked trick, if that's what it was.

While his gaze was accustomed to the dark, hers was not, leaving him free to watch every move the way a starving man watches those who can afford to eat lift their forks. Each step brought her closer, seeming to bring a soft glow of light with her as she did so, the thick brunette waves sliding along bared shoulders, rich hyacinth coloured eyes staring into the dark. It hurt to see her, an eternity without, his hand lifting towards her even as she recognized the lean shape that had stood still as death in the shadows. He bruised her, marred that immortal flesh as he clasped her tightly, feeling the kisses hot as summer rain against his throat as she clung just as fiercely.

Warmth, so much it almost burned.

The hatred, the looks of loathing and disgust, the bitter resentment that had been a constant bed companion between them had gone. Gone, long gone, the memory of her hands reaching for him tentatively as though she expected a rebuff after centuries of spewing venom and bile fresh, the new acts of reunion that were no longer filled with sullen looks and fits of temper, but tears of happiness and whispered affections. He didn't return her kisses, though he hungered for them, pulling away slowly as he cradled the sweet ache tightly to himself. The sudden jingle of laughter, bright and merry where most could not even remember such a thing, made the ache all the sweeter, the corner of his mouth twisting slightly in reciprocation. She would teach him to laugh again, hidden behind curtains as dark as midnight, thick as fox fur in winter. Gentle him among black satin sheets, and blankets of fur until he forgot what had haunted him for so long.

So serious, my love.

Smiling felt foreign, the muscles of his face refusing at first before finally forming the shape, a subtle shift easily missed, but he felt her happiness pierce the hollowness in him, filled that darkness with a spear of pure joy. Soft fingertips ghosting along his lips, the warmth of them against his skin passing like a brand, his eyes burning as they stared into hers. The words of affection catching in his throat, crashing against the backs of his teeth to break apart and fail him as his mouth refused to open. Unable to make even a tease of some scathing reply, to reciprocate the affectionate rebuke, the smile losing its shape as he lifted his hand to cup her cheek, watching as she nuzzled against the cold flesh and smiled up at him with understanding.

I missed you too, my Lord.

[storytimewithtibby]

“You do realize you could just visit, right?”

Persephone interrupted loudly, bored unto death of hearing her mother’s snide comments. Winter solstice and she was stuck between her mother’s bitterness and her husband’s cold anger that was getting chillier by the second.

“Yes, absolutely sister of mine. It’s not like you’re doing all that much during those months anyways.”

She could hear the sounds of several gods choking on their nectar over the loud thunk of her head hitting the table.

[storytimewithtibby]

he’s not big on PDA but the moment he hears the patter of feet he’s trying to empty his hands to catch her. it isn’t always, it isn’t often, but it’s worth the exasperated groans about the honeymoon being over from the other gods.

she loves the way he catches her, but even more than that she loves the way he laughs. but she’s greedy and selfish, and only wants him to laugh at home. low chuckles, raspy ha ha has, they’re hers alone.

they both love the way the other gods wonder, try to puzzle it out. why would she want to go home to Hades? what could he possibly have bribed her with? jewels? endless wardrobes? power and position? none of them realize she lost her heart to a crooked smile, and look of surprise.

[storytimewithtibby]

text: Are you ever coming home?                                                              text: it’s been 3 days! text: I know.                                                              text: don’t forget to play with Cerberus text: I won’t.                                                              text: and kiss the girls goodnight for me text: I will.                                          .....                                        ..........

                                                             text: come find me in Athens.

[storytimewithtibby]

I.     her face is wet with tears when she finds Hades after wandering in the dark; weeping, screaming. her chest is hollowed out from her loss, a child unwanted but loved, stolen from her. curses fall from her lips; first for the queen who ordered the child’s murder, and then for the one who refuses to let her see him one more time. he explains rebirth, or tries, while her fists beat against his chest. eventually, she understands and sags against him as she curses her father’s arrogance.

II.     she screams directly in his face, watching it change from the one she loves, to the one that she’s learned to hate. again, the betrayal cuts deep, fingers curled into talons that attempt to claw his face as she hurls curse after curse towards him. Hades finds her tearing the bedding from the frame to feed the fire, sword in hand, helm on head. he helps her feed the fire, then takes hold of her to lead her to the training yard and places the sword in her hand.

III.     the sound of wailing fills the air, but none are hers, Hades’ hand holding hers. a new cry fills the air, large hands cradling the small frame even as a crack of thunder rumbles in the air. the babe is all but swallowed in her “father’s” robes as Zeus appears, demanding to see his new child. even as her heart swells with love watching Hades deny him, the moment is tainted, taking hold of Hades’ sword as she steps between the brothers with a snarl on her lips.

IV.     she hears their laughter, arms wrapped around this new child, feeling the fingers of her second clinging to the fabric at her thighs. is she absolutely sure this time, they ask. loudest of all is Zeus’ laughter as he makes a joke of it, swearing on his seat upon Olympus, Hades managed this one on his own. the sounds stop abruptly, nectar running down Zeus’ face, Persephone leaving with children and husband in tow. the following winter is a long one, bitter cold, vicious.

V.     her chest aches, repeating the conversation again and again in her head. could she have stopped Hades from going? did she want to? even before she sees his face, her stomach twists, bile rises in her throat. shrugging off the hand on her shoulder, her hand slaps him hard enough she feels bones fracture. worth it, especially when the confusion turns to cold indifference. though if she knew what he’d done she might have stabbed him instead.

- river cursed

[storytimewithtibby]

they met in secret during the spring, rare and far between. hurried kisses, robes falling haphazardly from shoulders, hair mussed and tangled.

he wrote all the things he couldn’t say, letter after letter, carefully rolled and tied with yellow ribbon, pinned with a yellow opal. sometimes he found a nymph to deliver them.

she brought home the first leaves of Fall in her hair, they crackled like fire when he held her close. left a trail behind her as her feet flew down passageways.

[storytimewithtibby]

I.      she’d thought it would be intriguing, chin resting in the cradle of her hands, but all things considered, she’d have been better off celebrating the winter solstice with the nymphs. was thinking of doing just that when she noticed the crowd was slowly growing silent, shifting to get away from something, and there he was, the black sheep, the hidden one, and she felt a shiver down her spine. she hadn’t realized that the crowd had continued pulling back as she’d moved forward until his head turned towards her, dark eyes glinting from beneath his helm. when she realized no one was going to greet him, she took it upon herself to do so, offering him a drink, smiling as he pulled the helm from his head and stared down at her. though he didn’t say anything, the surprise ghosting across his expression over such a small courtesy made her heart clench. cheeks flushing, she disappeared back into crowd ignoring the whispers around her.

II.     fingers gripped his, pulled and tugged, though he refused to move, staring at her with a flicker of alarm no sculptor had ever captured. but he most definitely felt like a statue, her body levered backwards as she teased and cajoled, demanding he dance with her instead of watching everyone else. a minute shake of his head, fingers tightening as he pulled her upright again, lifting her hands to kiss the backs of them with a murmured decline. felt his suspicious gaze on her, keeping her back to him to hide her smile. spun when she felt fingers tentatively graze her elbow, beaming up at him and saw surprise pass through his eyes again.

III.     it’s sweet, she promised, holding the chunk of fruit in front of his mouth, having tapped his lower lips twice as if knocking. the goblet in his hand hovered over the table, her own placing on his wrist to slowly lower it. she’s not unaware of the interest she’s generating, can practically feel her mother’s rage like Apollo’s chariot just parked on her back. but that’s unimportant, as is the low teasing whispers about empty-headed maidens, all she can see is the way Hades is staring at her, trying to search for something before his mouth slowly opens and he takes a bite of the fruit. his confusion makes her grin, flicking a bit of cloth towards him to wipe his chin before popping the rest of the fruit in her mouth. told you, she chirrups before wandering away, trying to lose herself in the crowd before her mother can catch her.

IV.     the indignant sound that escapes him makes her laugh, reaching up to straighten the flower crown that she’d placed on his head. taking a step or two back, her head cants to the side as she takes in the effect of bright flowers against all that darkness. two fingers press at the edges of his mouth, the hands that had been rising to remove it pausing as his head jerks back, the flower crown slipping down over one eyebrow. she wonders if he even noticed that he bent down to accommodate her height as he straightens. satyrs play their pipes and she holds her hands out to him, here in the garden away from everyone else, a smile playing on her lips as he chuckles shaking his head before taking hold of them anyways.

V.     you came back, he whispers against her lips, bracing his weight above her, staring down at her. it’s not the first time he’s said it, or the hundredth, but every single time he manages to sound surprised by it. of course later this moment of weakness will be swept into the hearth with all the others, her fingers skimming along his skin, cradling his face as she kisses him again, and again, cuddling close, this little intimacy far more important than anything else. her laughter ringing out in their bedchamber at the sound of Cerberus’ mournful howl, the sound of Hades curses lost beneath it. it was nice to be home.

[storytimewithtibby]

he finds himself waking to reach out across cool sheets, can’t think of what he’s trying to find when his phone is clearly on the pillow, but long fingers tangle in the fabric, staring at the bunched bedding with irritation and confusion both.

sometimes when he’s alone with his thoughts he almost remembers something. someone. chases the memory through the dark hallways of his mind before stopping.

where his siblings once looked at him with exasperation or ignored him entirely, now there’s a hint of pity in their gaze. it makes him angry because he knows there’s something he’s supposed to know and doesn’t.

her laughter makes his heart skip, and it echoes long after she’s stopped. he finds himself going to parks to take off his shoes and walk through new grass, fingers skimming along the trunks of trees that hum with life.

there are times when she looks at him that he feels like she’s looking for someone else, her fingers passing over his skin as if seeking someone else. but he doesn’t doubt she loves him, and he kisses her palm in silent apology without asking about the one she obviously keeps hoping for.

when the memories come they’re knives. loss regained, understanding those searching stares, and he screams because there’s so much. love and joy and relief. rage and hate and vengeance. his wife, his daughters, he realizes how much he’s hurt them just by not remembering, by not knowing. and he blames himself, his selfishness, but he doesn’t shoulder the blame alone and begins to plot.

- river cursed

[storytimewithtibby]

she kisses him because she loves him and because he loves her too. but it’s not the same, he doesn’t remember who they were, he only knows who they are, knows who they’ve become.

sometimes she can almost taste the bitterness on his tongue, the draught his siblings dosed him with in a misguided attempt to help ease his hurt. but she knows he still hurt, they’d helped to carve the hole but left it with nothing else to fill it.

watching him fall in love with her all over again is a good ache, but it’s still pain. there are memories he can’t recall, inside jokes that he’s an outsider to. the earth trembles at the heavy weight of her anger.

it’s their anniversary, from the first time round not the second, and she buys him a gift. he stares down at it confused, untying the ribbon from around the ripe fruit, cracking it open with forgotten practised ease. there’s something in his eyes as he watches her pop a seed into her mouth but it’s gone when she looks closer.

the draught should have worn off, but he’s also been drinking it for thousands of years and even a god has limits. the smile is the one she remembers from before, and it breaks her heart a little bit every time she sees it.

- river cursed

[storytimewithtibby]

I.      he’s so serious, even more so than Athena, or Hephaestus, which is saying something because she rarely sees them smile. but every winter solstice he arrives and she’s been trying to build up the courage to speak to him. she doesn’t quite manage it, a soft hello uncle, grasping his hands in greeting and tugging him down to kiss his cheek. the look of surprise in his dark eyes is more rewarding than anything she’s ever done. long fingers are still squeezing hers a moment later, and she’s certain that he’s not aware he’s doing it, before letting go abruptly and leaving her to dance with the nymphs pulling at her.

II.    she stares down at the platinum vine that runs from her wrist to her elbow, at the gems that seem drunk in the light and glow like stars against her skin, the leaves curve along her skin. it’s beautiful and cold, but he’s wearing that smile that’s a poor imitation of his younger brothers’ arrogant ones. even though it makes her skin crawl seeing nature captured in such unforgiving, undying, metal, she beams up at him and kisses the corner of his mouth in thanks, laughing when she feels the metal shift as his fingers pass over it. it’s a beautiful present, but nothing compared to hearing him chuckle for the first time. 

III.    everyone says they heard her scream, and they did but it wasn’t with fear. it was excitement and victory, it was defiance against the mother that refused to understand, feeling his arm wrap around her waist to pull her onto his chariot, murmuring her name as he cracked the reins to send the horses tearing back beneath the earth. he was tired of waiting it seems, his lips against hers as she tried to laugh and kiss him back at the same time. the lack of sun is bitter cold against her skin, but his grumblings warm her, knowing that it was she who caused him to move heaven and earth to claim his intended. she was the reason the patient one snapped from inaction to recklessness. 

IV.     upset didn’t begin to cover her emotional state, following Hermes up the stairs with her hand clutching Hades’. she was trying to forgive her mother this wedge she could feel driving between them, his fingers listlessly curled around hers. her mother’s logic was the living belonged above ground, even plants struggled free from their shells to escape being trapped in the earth. she understands, but it doesn’t make it any easier to watch his face grow impassive, the way he refuses to look at her. she stops a few steps above him so they’re the same height and turns to kiss him, feeling the warmth of the sun against her back, hearing her mother calling her name. don’t forget me, she whispers against his lips, and knows if she begs him not to let her go he’d let humanity die without a blink. i’ll come home soon, i promise, she swears, reluctantly letting Hermes pull her towards the world above. 

V.    he’s not waiting for her at the entrance and her heart skips unpleasantly, taking the stairs at a run, impatiently bouncing on the toes of her feet as Charon ferries her across, passing through Cerberus’ legs with little more than a graze of her fingers along one massive paw. he was not on his throne, or inspecting Tartarus, when she finds him in the hall she flings herself at him, kissing his cheeks, the straight line of his lips, thawing him slowly until he wraps his arms around her so tightly she can feel her bones screaming in protest. fingers skim over sharp cheekbones, along the line of his nose, across his brow, before pressing the tip of her finger against the edge of his mouth that’s slowly lifting into a smile.