#💖Out of the Shadows Forever💖 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

revelboo · 1 month ago

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Oml the cliffhanger on metroplex. Big guy needs more love in his life.

I absolutely love your work on these stories you got cooking here. Each and every one of them have so many characteristics to them. Can't wait for your next work. 🤗💖💖💖

Thank you!

18+ 🌶️

I Can Feel You Pt 6- extended cut

Metroplex x Reader

Monitoring as you step into the labyrinth that makes up his interior, for a moment you hesitate. Looking back up at the light streaming down from above like you want to go back. He knows he could close that exit to you, force you to continue on. Would you resent him then? If he takes away your choice? Little hands twisting together as you stare up toward that light, he knows he can't take that away from you. Needs you to choose him. And finally you take a shuddering breath and square your shoulders. "Okay," you whisper, eyes wide as you look around. "Okay. Show me, big guy."

Slowly he begins flaring his biolights, feeling the strain of redirecting energy where he needs it to give you direction. It's slow going when you're so small. Turning again and again, following the pulses of light. Trusting him to guide you and occasionally reaching out to brush your fingers against him almost absently. Those little touches helping focus him, because if he's wrong, if he's not careful, he'll burn through too much energy and be forced into recharge again. That unease twists through him as you follow, because he's not sure you'd be able to find your way back out. You're so little, so easy to overlook. How long would it be until the Autobots above miss you? Before you slowly starve to death wandering around inside him? That fear is a living thing, urging him to turn you back around. Let you go.

Just once, though. He wants to speak to you at least once. More than your stilted conversations as precious to him as they are. Wants to feel you reach out and be able to touch you in return. "I didn't realize all this was down here," you whisper, brushing against a cable. "It's like a whole other city." Except its only him here and now you.

You don't complain as he leads you, but as time passes, you are slowing. Shoulder and wrist bumping a wall as you turn a corner. Time is a hard concept for him, but it's different for you. You'd have taken a rest interval by now, right? He's not sure, but as you stumble guilt sets in. Knowing you're exhausted, but you're so close. Please, just a little further. "Metroplex? I think I'm done," you say, leaning your head against him. "Is it much further?"

Pulsing warm light, he waits, and you reluctantly push away from his walls to keep going. Knows you're tired and he's asking much more than he has a right to. But just this once, he wants to wrap his arms around your little frame. Needs you to understand how precious you are to him.

Exhaustion pulls at you as you scrub a hand over your eyes, your head pounding. It feels like you've been walking forever, trusting that there's a reason you're down here. It must be night by now or early morning. There's no way to know down here in his labyrinthine interior. He's seen you eat and must know you'll need to soon. Should already have. You keep your eyes on those warm, comforting lights of his, not on the empty shadows beyond. If not for the low hum of his spark vibrating under your feet, you'd think you were alone. Abandoned. Know you're inside him and there's nothing to fear, but panic is just there under the surface. Screaming at you to turn and run back the way you'd come. That this is a tomb, maybe yours.

And then light, warm and beckoning. Leaving the tunnel you were in to enter an open space limned in warm light along the walls, pulsing slowly as they run upward with a low thrumming you feel in your bones. Breath catching as you tip your head up to find his spark. It's a shocking thing to see, knowing it’s everything. It’s him.His life force pulsing and glowing above you, little arcs of energy trailing through the air around it.

"Metroplex? This is your spark, right?" The part of a Cybertronian they protect and keep hidden, and he's shared his with you. It feels like trespassing on something private as your eyes drop. Like this isn't something meant for you to see.

Directly under it is something almost like a closed metal flower, pulsing with that same energy. And along the ground, his biolights pulse. Slow, deliberate flares that draw you forward. As you approach, that strange structure opens, metal petals unfurling slowly as thick cables unravel from around it. "You wanted me to see this?" You ask, because of course he had. That thing that's not at all a flower is pulsing slowly like his spark, that light almost hypnotic. One of those cables brushes your ankle and twines about it as you approach and reach out. Fingers brushing him and feeling energy arc through you, shattering you.

That contact jolts through you as everything falls away and you’re left in a space limned in the warm pulse of his spark, surrounded by him. You can feel him in a way you never have before as you try to figure out if the space you’re in is small or infinite. And if touching whatever that was just killed you, because it’s so hard to focus here. You feel like you’re drifting and just want to sleep.

So hard to focus. That’s not your thought, is it? It feels like yours, but there’s a faint dissonance. Ground me, little one.

“Metroplex?” You whisper, reaching out and a figure materializes in front of you, bigger than you but not as massive as the Autobots are. Ghostly and insubstantial until his servos touch your fingertips and he solidifies some. You’ve never seen his bot form, but you know this is him. Metroplex. Warmth spilling through you as he offers you a big hand and you lay your palm in his.

“Touch me,” he says, the words a deep rumble, a plea as his servos curl around your hand.

Because he becomes more real where you touch him. Encouraging you to reach for him, hand lifting to cautiously cup his jaw. And his other arm curls around you and draws you near, feeling solid against you. The warmth of him, the thrum of his spark against you all so real. “Hi,” you whisper against him.

“You saw me,” he says, chin on top of your head, that deep voice so grateful it hurts you. Like acknowledging him, speaking to him is unthinkable. “Woke me.”

It breaks you wide open, that wonder in his voice over something so simple. Thinking about how he takes care of you, watches over you, has tried so hard to reach out. “I’m here. I’ve got you,” you whisper, reaching for him, cupping his helm in your hands and pulling him down. Because you understand that loneliness, of being unseen. Knowing you’re so much smaller than even the smallest Autobot, that you’re easy to overlook. To forget. And among them you feel alone, alien and unseen. His mouth is warm when you go up on tiptoes to kiss him. And he rushes into you, tangling what you feel with what he feels.

Knowing that he won’t be able to maintain this for long, but he’d wanted to tell you how much he appreciates you speaking to him so he doesn’t drift away from reality completely. All those little touches, the sound of your voice and your stories, you’ve held him together. Giving him something to focus on. A sense of self after so long.

You can’t separate yourself from him as his mouth slides against yours. Can’t tell if the need and heat are yours or his. But knowing that you see him and that you want to wrap yourself around him, protect him against that fear of being forgotten. Of losing what little of himself is left. Dying alone and forgotten.

Not sure how much of this is real, it feels like it is as he drags you against him. The kiss becoming something desperate, needing to show him he’s still alive. To feel him hold you, touch you. Big servos on your hips, lifting you as you wrap yourself around him. You feel the head of his spike slide against you. Sex and need and fear of being forgotten, left behind, all jangling through you. His thoughts, your thoughts. There’s no separating them as he pulls you down, the hard length of his spike sliding deep to stretch you.

Those big hands on your hips, moving you against him as your mouth brushes the corner of his mouth, hearing him venting raggedly against you. “I see you,” you moan, clinging to him.

“I feel you,” he whispers, against you. “I have you.”

You know it’s true as he keeps moving against you, his spike stroking deep again and again. You’re safe and sheltered here in his arms. He’s been watching over you all along, reaching out but unable to say a word. When he pushes you over that edge and you fist his spike, your climax is a gentle warmth spreading through you. Feeling him rock himself against you, groaning with his own release, helm resting against your forehead as those optics seem to devour you. Because he does see you, he’s seen you all along.

#transformers x reader #idw metroplex #metroplex x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 months ago

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To be alone with you 8

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, power imbalance, cheating, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your babysitting gig becomes complicated. (f!plus sized!reader)

Character: dilf!Clark Kent

Note: who predicted 2024 would be the year I converted to Cavill.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The blinds are drawn as you hug your pillow with one arm. Your body is stiff as you sleep with one leg hooked around your blankets, the bottom of one cheek exposed to the steady blow of AC. You shiver and roll onto your back, pulling the covers around you fully.

The night before is a vague shadow in your mind. You remember starting the movie but not much else. You’d been so tired after the break-in, you must’ve passed out almost immediately. You feel bad, hoping that Clark doesn’t take it to heart.

You push yourself up. Your head is thick and full with sleep. You haven't slept like this in forever. Your mouth is dry but tangy. You swallow the gritty morning and cough, turning to dangle your legs over the edge.

Your striped shorts are crooked and wrinkly and your tee shirt smells like sweat. Ugh. You're a mess.

You stand and lumber around clumsily. You grab a change of clothes and try to stretch out the kinks as you cross the hall to the bathroom. You close the door and put your clothes on the counter, facing your reflection.

You look rough. You feel just as bad. You turn on the cold water and splash it over your face before you brush your teeth, scraping out the stale taste stuck to your tongue. You turn on the shower and undress, wincing as your thighs meet.

You must be close to your time of the month. You get a bit sensitive. It would explain your fatigue and the soreness. Great.

You step into the glass booth and wash yourself. The warm water is soothing against your stiff muscles. God, you really hurt. You reach down to touch your folds, checking your fingers for blood.

PMS is a bitch. Not enough to bleed for a week, your body has to gaslight you into thinking you are already.

After, you pull on the fresh clothes but hardly feel more awake. Just sluggish and achy. Coffee. You don't live off it like your sister but you need it in that moment.

Thinking of, where is your sister? Not too unusual for her to he errant but it's been a few days.

As you come downstairs, you hear snoring rumbling through the first floor. You slow and tiptoe into the front room. You cautiously approach the couch and find Clark, arms crossed, sleeping on his side, cramped into the small space as he slumbers. The small throw stretched over his shoulders.

Your stomach pits. You're certain he'd much rather be at home in his own bed. Your guilt keeps you from disturbing him.

You creep into the kitchen, making your movement muted and staggered. You flip the switch on the kettle and wait as it hums. You load the french press with grinds and teeter on your toes, dancing nervously around the tile.

You pour the boiling water into the press and check the time on the stove. You give it time to brew and lean on the island, listlessly cupping your chin and tapping your cheek with your fingertips. As you blow out, you hear the floorboards and stand up to greet Clark as he enters.

His hair is askew, eyes droopy, and the blanket still draped around his neck. You didn't realise before he hadn't been wearing a shirt. His pajamas hang low on his stomach, the dark hair across his chest and trailing down his stomach exposed shamelessly. You gulp and focus on his face.

“Smells like coffee,” he grins crookedly, “morning.”

“Morning, uh, I hope I didn't wake you up,” you squeak.

“Not at all,” he waves you off, “you passed out so quick, I figured you'd be up and at em. Besides, Jonny’s an early riser.”

“Oh, okay,” you turn to press down the plunger on the press, “I'm sorry I zonked out so fast–”

There's less resistance than you expect and the coffee splashes up and overflows, splashing your hands as you recoil with a yipe. You try to shake it off but a particular spot on the back of your hand singes badly. Before you can think, Clark has your arm and angles you to the sink as he flips on the cold water.

He guides your hand under, crowding you as your arm shakes in pain. You hiss even as the water soothes.

“Oh, I'm so clumsy,” you murmur.

“As long as you're okay,” he slowly lets you go, “you let me take care of this.”

He swipes up the dish towel and sops up the errant drops of coffee. He dries off the outside of the press and patiently pushes down the plunger. You turn off the water and use a fresh towel on your hands.

He faces you, “blistering?”

You look at your hand, “just tender.”

“You're lucky I'm here,” he chortles, “scare away all the bad men and take care of your burns.”

“Ha, yeah, I–”

“Mm, something smells like cherry blossoms,” he interrupts, sniffing the air, his blue eyes narrowing on you, “is that you?”

“Um, yeah,” you catch a wafting scent from your body, “that's my body soap. Oh no, is it setting you off?”

“Not at all,” he smiles, “I was more worried about you.”

“Ah, no, it's fine. The soap doesn't trigger me surprisingly.”

“Hm,” he leans on the counter, gripping the edge as you notice how his stomach muscles clench, “I bought Lois some cherry blossom soap once. She never used it. Guess it isn't her scent.”

“Not for everyone I guess,” you turn and open a cupboard, taking down two mugs.

“Mm, yeah,” he agrees dully, “well, I should call your dad over my coffee,” he pushes himself straight and nears, stopping right beside you as you pour into the cups, “maybe after we can go get breakfast. My treat.”

“Oh, you don't have to–”

“I want to. Kinda weird not having Jonny around, looking fir a distraction,” he accepts a mug as you slide it over to him.

“Makes sense,” you say, “well, who am I to deny a free meal?”

🏡

After searching your coffee cup for an ounce of strength, you give in to the persistent glaze in your eyes. Maybe eating will help. Clark's offer is generous, almost too generous, yet your stomach clenches at the thought of food.

You grab your purse and head down to find Clark. He's in the kitchen, rinsing his mug, your own forgotten on your night stand. He dries it and puts it away as you wait for him to notice you.

“Did you talk to my dad?” You ask.

“Yeah, actually, couldn't get through. They must be on the road. Service gets spotty, right?” He hangs the dish towel neatly, “so you ready? I gotta stop by my place and change but then we can eat.”

“Sure, uh, well, you know, if it's too much…”

“Not at all, I'm excited. There's this place I've been meaning to try for a while but Lois hasn't felt like it,” he says, “tried calling her too. Think she's still mad at me.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Kent.”

“Clark,” he corrects you, “you make me feel so old.”

“Sorry,” you apologize again.

“It's fine,” he shrugs, “we should get going. I'm starving.”

“Not gonna lie, me too.”

“Must've been all the salty snacks last night,” he kids.

🏡

After you stop at the Kents', you set off for breakfast. The more you think about it the hungrier you are. You grow restless as you watch several options pass by, holding your tongue as Clark keeps driving.

You're surprised as he passes the city limits and you shift in your seat, craning to watch the sign pass. He clears his throat and turns down the radio, "almost there. Guess I shoulda mentioned it's all the way out here."

"Nah, it's fine," you shrug, "just curious."

"Really cute place, locally owned," he explains, "I prefer to give my money to an honest family business, you know?"

"Totally get it," you say coolly.

He taps his fingers on the wheel, as if he's restless or even agitated. He pulls into a gravel lot off the country road and you look up at the painted side. You passed this place with your parents a few times but never pulled over. It's a quaint brunch restaurant in a cottage-style house.

"Oh, this place," you chuckle.

"You been here?" He asks.

"No, but I've seen it."

"Right," he intones and clicks free his seat belt.

You free yourself of your own seat belt and climb out as he mirrors you. You let him take the lead and follow him to the front door. He holds it open and you enter ahead of him. You're greeted inside by an elderly lady.

"Good morning, may I show you to a table?" She offers.

You nod as Clark gives a vocal response over your head. She leads you to a table for two. You notice the place isn't very busy. There's an older man in the corner drinking coffee over a newspaper but no one else.

You sit as she introduces herself as Lena and promises menus. She shuffles away as you look at Clark who seems enamoured with the place. He admires the painting of flowers not far from your table and the lacy curtains around the front windows. It's cute but a bit outdated.

"There ya go, honies," she lays two menus on the table, her knobby hands shaking, "would you like coffee or tea?"

"Coffee, please, and..." he looks at you.

"Green tea, please."

"Coffee and green," she repeats, "lovely."

She hobbles away and you shift awkwardly in your seat. She must be the only waitress. In a place like this, you're not surprised. You just hope the food is decent, not that you can be picky.

"This place is nice," he muses, "peaceful."

"Yeah, it's interesting," you say as you pick up the menu.

"I'm glad you got some sleep," he takes his own menu and browses it lazily, "glad I could be there to keep an eye out. Protect you."

"Ah, well, yeah, I don't think they guy would come back anyway but it did help," you give a small smile and settle on eggs benedict.

"Great," he puffs out his chest just a little.

You peek up at him. It must be a good distraction for him. With Lois and Jonny gone, he needs something to keep him busy. You can humour him.

"Here ya go, sweets," Lena returns with a mug off coffee and a teacup on a saucer. She places both shakily and stands as straight as she can to ask if you've decided on what you want.

Clark lets you order first and you speak loudly and slowly to the woman as she cups her ear. She repeats it back to you before listening aptly to Clark. When she's done, she gives a soft clap and goes back behind the counter. She scribbles on a piece of paper and puts it in the window.

You glance over at the window, distracting yourself with the blowing grass. Somehow out here, you don't feel the same tickle in your sinuses. You sit back and cross your arms, watching the lazy blue sky.

"Oh, it's so romantic, a nice breakfast for two," Lena startles you as she appears again. She places a candlestick in the middle of the table then puts a wax taper in it. You can only stare and share look with Clark as she lights it, "you are so darling together. Is it a special occasion?"

"Uh," you bite your lip and look at Clark.

"Just breakfast," he answers as he throws his hands up, "spur of the moment, you know?"

"That's precious," she squeals, "you are such a beautiful pair."

"Thanks," Clark says and you just smile awkwardly.

She winks and leaves once more. You watch her cross the restaurant and sit with the old man and his newspaper. He lowers it as she whispers to him. You turn back and face Clark, leaning forward.

"I think she thinks we're together," you keep your voice quiet, "like a couple."

"Eh yeah, I didn't want it to be awkward," he shrugs, "no harm in it, really."

Your mouth slants as you consider his response. You guess he's right. What will it hurt? She's just a lonely old woman.

"What?" He tilts his head.

"Nothing," you answer.

"Really? I mean, I could correct her if it's a big deal--"

"It's not, really," you lean forward and cross your arms over the table, "just funny, I guess. Second time it's happened."

"It is?" He furrows his thick brows.

"Yeah, the ice cream guy..." you trail off, "whatever. Just... I'm kinda young but maybe don't look it."

"It's flattering, really," he insists, "people really think I could be with someone like you."

"Well, I mean, Lois is gorgeous," you laugh, "so..."

"Lucky man, surrounded by beautiful women," he grins.

“Oh, uh, thanks,” you sit back awkwardly, not expecting the compliment. You're nothing like Lois, love handles excluded, you still couldn't compare. You're just the babysitter. “Thanks, that's… you don't have to say that.”

“Well, you are,” he rubs his neck bashfully.

“Ha, yeah, well…” you clasp your hands in your lap and look again out the window.

As you watch the horizon over the dusty road, your heart roils in the tension. There's something nipping at your mind, just on the edge of your memory but you just can't grasp it. Is he just being nice or is there something more behind his compliments?

Don't be silly, he doesn't see you like that. He couldn't.

#clark kent #dark clark kent #dark!clark kent #clark kent x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #babysitter au #superman #dc #dcu #to be alone with you

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claudemblems · 1 year ago

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A Kiss to End All Doubt | Albert Moriarty

Summary: When you agreed to tag along with the Moriarty brothers to a grand ball, the last thing you expected was to receive a noble's offer of marriage. Thankfully, Albert plays the part of your lover well, perhaps a little too well for his affectionate words to be fake...

Content: SFW. Fem!Reader. 3,723 words. Pining. Soooo much romantic tension. Albert is a flirt and no one is surprised.

Notes: I have been writing this fic for what feels like forever BUT IT'S FINALLY FINISHED :3 I'm so excited to finally give this to you. I hope you enjoy it 💖 I may also add an epilogue if there's an interest for one...🤭

Did Albert Moriarty, one of the many faces of the Lord of Crime, truly not have the slightest idea of the effect he had on you?

It was silly to even fathom that a man of his stature could be so oblivious, but you couldn’t help but start to wonder once he started giving your flushed cheeks and wide eyes a quizzical look.

That, or he was playing coy with you, which wouldn’t be all that surprising coming from him. He’d long since mastered the art of making noble ladies go weak in the knees.

But that was a skill he’d acquired out of pure necessity. If he had things his way, he’d refuse to give the stuck up women of the nobility the time of day. Unfortunately, he had a role to play in all of his brother’s plans, and so he continued flirting with the noble ladies just long enough to leave them wanting more.

You, on the other hand, were no noble. In fact, you had no good fortune, distinguished education, or marriageable prospects to speak of. Truly, you were nothing but a mere face hidden amongst the shadows, which was perfect for an assistant to the Lord of Crime.

You’d begun to empathize with Albert’s disdain for these royal functions, mainly the lavish balls he and his brothers had little choice but to attend. It was important for them to keep up appearances as a well-rounded noble family who knew how to mingle with the upper-class, whether they enjoyed doing so or not. While they seemed to have gotten used to it for the most part, it proved to be quite the difficult adjustment for you. Thankfully, Albert had patiently taught you the ins and outs of noble life, giving you lessons on small talk and etiquette whenever time permitted.

However, he hadn’t yet taught you how to handle a nobleman’s advances.

“You must be Lady [Name],” the man greeted, holding out his hand for you to take. You briefly glanced towards Albert, taking his nod as a sign to follow through with the gesture. A kiss was placed onto your hand before the man let go, stepping back to better admire the exquisite sights around him. “It’s quite a splendid ball, isn’t it? There’s so many well-mannered and intelligent guests in our midst, such as you, young Lord Albert.”

“Lord Darnley, you are far too kind,” Albert said, placing a hand over his heart and bowing. “I ought to be extending the compliments to you. Your presence here is most welcome, as well as that of your entourage. Would the girl you brought with you happen to be your little sister, Lady Georgina?”

“Ah, I see you’ve made sure to memorize the names of all the guests! Indeed, she insisted on joining me, and no matter what I said, she refused to take no for an answer!” Darnley bellowed in laughter, briefly drawing the attention of the other guests nearby.

“She already seems to be quite the free spirit. I’m sure she has a bright future ahead of her.”

“If you’re so interested in my dear Georgina, I would be more than willing to sit down and discuss a potential marriage between the two of you.”

You swore you saw a flash of disgust appear in Albert’s eyes, but he simply smiled brightly at Darnley, careful that his emotions did not look fake or contrived. “While your offer is certainly generous, I have no plans of marriage at the moment. I’m afraid I’m already plenty busy with my service in the royal army.”

“Ah, what a shame,” Lord Darnley sighed, but his disappointment quickly turned to anticipation when his gaze once again fell on you. Your stomach lurched at the look in his eyes, but you tried to retain your composure, copying Albert’s mannerisms by offering a surface-level smile.

“Lady [Name], I am supposing you are not yet married if you’re attending this function with the Moriartys.”

“That would be correct, my good sir. How astute of you to notice.”

Lord Darnley grinned at the news like a hunter mere moments away from ensnaring this prey. “Well then, my lady, is there anyone that has asked for your hand yet?”

Goosebumps ran down your arms as you swallowed thickly. Anyone with a right mind knew exactly where this conversation was heading.

“I…well…” Should you tell the truth? Should you lie? But then who would you say had expressed a desire in marrying you? “It’s…complicated.”

“So, that would mean no formal question has been posed then, correct?”

“...Correct.”

You heard Albert’s feet shift next to you, on guard for whatever preposterous idea this nobleman could come up with next.

“Well, it’s certainly not good for a lady of your standing to be without a husband. I, myself, am quite the romantic, and I believe a courting period fosters a genuine love between both parties involved. If you have no one currently vying for your hand, perhaps you’d offer me the chance to earn it.”

No. No. On so many levels, no.

But this wasn’t about you—your happiness or married life did not come before the liberation of London. Whatever the brothers asked of you, you would adhere to their words, even if it meant having to be stuck with a man such as…this. Though you knew they’d never even entertain the thought of offering you up to some man who cared only for your beauty and status and nothing for your heart. If you were to refuse Darnley’s advances, at the least, you were confident the Moriartys would respect your decision.

Even so, you didn’t want to cause any more trouble for them. If you couldn’t agree to the idea of marriage, perhaps a date or two would suffice, right?

Just the thought made you feel sick.

“Well, what do you say, my lady? Will you allow me the pleasure of courting you?”

You knew you had to keep up appearances. You couldn’t allow for cracks to show in the perfect and amicable facade the Moriartys had carefully crafted. You knew that well, and yet…

This was a proposal that not even death itself could bring you to accept.

“I’m sorry, my lord, but I must sincerely refuse.”

Lord Darnley stared at you in alarm. “Come again? You didn’t just say no to my advances, did you?”

Your heart rate quickened as his words grew heated, and in that moment you wanted nothing more than to take off and hide somewhere safe and quiet in the manor’s garden, away from other people who might come up with even more ridiculous propositions.

“It’s just as you heard, my lord. I must decline.”

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as Lord Darnley stared straight into your eyes, not blinking for several long moments. Your hands had begun to shake as you feared that you’d just begun tarnishing the reputation of the Moriarty family. Truly, there were fewer things more terrifying than a nobleman who felt he’d been insulted, and the consequences for such an offense would be nothing short of dire.

“Lady [Name], you are in no place to refuse my offer. You said yourself that no other man has even brought up the idea of marriage to you! Are you truly so brazen that you would reject the prospects of a life in union with mine? We all know who makes the decisions around here, and they’re certainly not made by women—!”

“My good sir, I believe you’ve said quite enough.”

A small gasp left your lips as Albert sneaked a hand around your waist, still carefully holding his glass of wine in the other. You searched his face for an answer as to what he was scheming, but he simply smiled—a true one this time—wordlessly reassuring you that all would be well.

“You see, Lady [Name] may not have received an offer of marriage as of yet, but that is only because I have been quite busy protecting our beloved country. I wish to propose when I am able to be at home more often and thus can fulfill my duties as a devoted husband to my wife. So I must politely ask that you rescind your offer, lest you make yourself seem as though you chase after taken women.”

Propose? Husband?

If you were afraid of tainting the Moriarty image, Albert clearly didn’t share your concerns.

“Taken? Why, I—! You’re bluffing, Lord Albert! You’re not planning on marrying this woman!”

“And what has brought you to that incorrect conclusion?”

“If that were the case, you would have brought it up the moment I asked if she were single!”

“To be fair, you asked if she’d received an offer for marriage, not if she was currently available to court.”

You could practically see the steam coming out of Lord Darnley’s ears, his face growing redder with each passing minute. He was still unconvinced, and for good reason, too, but you weren’t about to let Albert’s kindness go to waste.

You placed a hand on Albert’s shoulder, smiling up at him as he redirected his full attention to you. “It’s true, my lord. My affections have been reciprocated by my dear Albert, and I am patiently waiting for him to ask me to marry him. It will be a proposal I shall readily accept.”

Darnley scoffed, a hand placed over his heart in disbelief. “And you had the gall not to tell me when I’d begun to question you? Either you’re a terrible liar, or you’re just hoping to humiliate me in front of all these guests!”

“I would never dream of deceiving or insulting you, my lord. I should have made my relationship status clear to you earlier. Please forgive my carelessness.”

“I still think this is some elaborate hoax the both of you are trying to pull off. If not to tarnish my good name, then to convince every noble here that you’re worth the status bestowed on you at birth.” Lord Darnley swiped a fresh glass of wine off the tray of one of the waiters walking by, the man watching in horror as the lord downed all of the liquid in one gulp. His cheeks had started to take on a flushed hue from the great amount of alcohol he’d consumed that night, and with the way things were going, he was sure to be drunk by the end of it. “Perhaps, Lady [Name],” Darnley continued, a lopsided smirk forming on his face, “you’ve been lying about your social status, and you’re hoping that your marriage to Lord Albert will secure you a place in the upper class.”

Anger surged through you at his utterly ridiculous theory. Darnley had unknowingly gotten one fact right: you were a nobody. When you’d been taken in by the Moriarty family, you had nothing to your name but pen, paper, and the clothes on your back. But you knew one thing for sure: you had worth as a human being, and no one, noble or otherwise, would be able to change that.

And marrying a noble for status? What a laughable suggestion. As if you’d stoop so low just for some so-called “honor” among the elite.

“Well, dear sir,” you began, discreetly hiding a smirk behind your gloved hand, “I had no idea you were so foolish as to even come up with such an inconceivable thought. I once held you in high regard as I’ve heard many within the nobility sing your praises, but your current behavior is quite unbecoming of a person of your stature.”

You heard Albert try, and fail, to stifle a laugh next to you. You quietly breathed out a sigh of relief to see that he’d chosen not to reprimand your strong words. If anything, he seemed eager to encourage them.

As Lord Darnley frantically signaled for a waiter to bring him more wine, Albert took the opportunity to lean down next to your ear, whispering a simple yet heart-pounding question, “[Name], would it be all right with you to play further into these roles of enchanted lovers?”

Your breath caught in your throat, butterflies beginning to form in your stomach. “Of course,” you said. If only you knew how I truly felt, you wouldn’t even need to ask.

He smiled down at you, a sight that only stirred up the butterflies even more, and pulled you closer against him. Meanwhile, his eyes bored into Lord Darnley’s frame, darkening with every passing moment. If there was no one else in that ballroom, you had no doubt Albert would have leapt at the chance to get rid of him.

When Lord Darnley had finished downing another glass of wine, his fiery countenance returned to you and Albert. “You both are frauds,” he spat. “Everyone else here might be too dim-witted to figure it out, but I’ll make them aware that you’re not the upstanding moral characters you believe that you are.”

“It’s a shame to hear such vile thoughts coming from your own mouth, good sir,” Albert sighed. “But if I must be honest, I don’t care what any noble in this room thinks of me or the house in which I rule over.”

“Oh? And why is that, good sir?”

“Because,” Albert answered, turning his body towards yours, his visage noticeably softening when his focus returned to you, “the only person I want to please is the woman I adore. Not one person in the nobility is worthy of praise or merit—no one but her alone.”

Setting aside his glass, Albert gingerly took your hand in his own, meeting your eyes to silently ask for your permission. At your nod of approval, he lifted your fingertips to his lips, placing a gentle and almost reverent kiss against them.

“I love her,” he said, his sweet gaze reaching the very depths of your soul, “and when the time is right, I will make her mine.”

His words were like a match igniting the fire blazing in your heart, the flames fed by your deep affections for him, growing with every beat that thumped in your chest.

Your breath caught in your throat as his hand came to rest against your cheek, his touch so light yet so dizzying, more intoxicating than any wine you’d had that night.

Albert searched your eyes as all the feelings you’d tried to keep at bay finally came pouring in like waves. You were sure he could see it all: the admiration, the yearning, the love you’d kept locked away. But somehow he’d managed to find the matching key, the truth you’d been hiding for all these years finally at his reach.

His fingers traveled along your cheek and down to your jaw, this thumb tracing patterns against your skin. You were still dazed from his words to Darnley, but you brought yourself to meet Albert’s gaze once more, curious to see what truths you could uncover in his own expression.

And you wished you hadn’t, because when you saw the affection so clearly present in them, you wanted nothing more than to throw yourself into his arms and kiss him until the night turned into day.

Albert wasn’t oblivious, and you knew it. Whatever people thought of him as—a genius, a young prodigy, a man of great knowledge—his ability to read people was beyond the average person’s comprehension. And you knew when he’d finally figured out what the person he’d been surveying was hiding. His lips would quirk upwards ever so slightly, the dimples on his face just beginning to show, and he’d cock his head to the side, pleased with his findings.

And that was exactly how he was looking at you.

You’d placed your heart out in plain view of his observant eyes, and he’d figured you out. But now that he knew of your feelings for him, what was he planning to do with them?

Albert’s thumb drifted from your jaw down your lips, careful not to brush off the lipstick staining them. He stared at them for several moments, deep in thought, before he returned his eyes to yours, a single question hidden within them.

May I?

Already breathless, you squeezed his hand once, closing your eyes as Albert leaned in painstakingly slowly, every nerve in your body alight with anticipation. This was the moment you’d only been able to imagine in dreams, on nights where you sat wordlessly under the stars, silently wishing upon them in vain. They couldn’t grant you your desires. They couldn’t give you everything you ever wanted. You were the only one with the power to seize your opportunity and make your own wish come true.

And as Albert’s lips finally fell on yours, you smiled.

Your greatest wish was being granted right before your very eyes.

His lips tasted faintly of wine, and the subdued scent of his cologne still lingered on his collar. Combined with the warm and comforting touch of his hand cupping your face, your senses were overwhelmed in the most wonderful of ways. It felt as if you’d begun to float, brought into a fairy tale-esque trance where the entire world grew still except for you and Albert.

Time had stalled to allow you this moment of pure, undeniable bliss that not even the corrupt powers of this world could take away from you.

With his lips still on yours, Albert’s hand snaked further around your waist, gently pulling you closer against him. You practically had no room left between the two of you, and so in a moment of boldness, you placed one hand on his shoulder, the other on his chest, right above his heart. Even through his suit, you could feel it beating wildly.

It only made you wonder: did he truly mean what he’d said earlier? Did he really harbor such affection for you? Did he really intend…to make you his?

Before you could ponder anymore, Albert finally pulled away, cheeks faintly dusted with rose. He appeared somewhat dazed himself, but he kept his composure, still well aware of where the two of you were at the moment.

But this time when he turned to Darnley, he smirked, practically beaming from head to toe with delight as he spoke. “Well, Lord Darnley, do you believe us now?”

If looks could kill, both of you would have succumbed to that man’s rage.

Darnley’s hands gripped his wine glass so tightly that it shattered onto the floor, the remnants of wine staining his once perfectly polished suit. Other nobles stopped their conversations and turned to him upon hearing the commotion, a few of them even pulling out handkerchiefs.

“Sir, let me get you a new glass,” a waiter spoke, holding his hand out to take the broken one from him. But Lord Darnley was already fuming, and he shoved the waiter to the side, smashing the rest of the wine glass against the floor.

“You will pay for this,” he snarled. Sending you one final glare, he turned on his heel, marching out of the ballroom, hopefully never to be seen again (at least for the night).

“Well,” Albert breathed, laughing as he ran a hand through his hair, “I don’t think he’ll be bothering us anymore.”

“You’re right…Thank you, Albert.”

“What are you thanking me for?” he asked, gaze drifting back to yours. “I’ve done nothing to warrant your gratitude.”

You shook your head. “You have, Albert. You didn’t have to step in and save me from Darnley’s advances, but you did, even though doing so could have tarnished your family name. I’m indebted to you.”

Albert frowned ever so slightly, and you cocked your head to the side, confused. After a few moments, his gaze flickered to the people dancing around the room, his cheeks still tinged a beautiful red. “If you thought I was doing all that just to be a gentleman,” he murmured, “then I don’t know what it would take to make the truth clear to you...”

Well, suddenly you were the one left blushing.

“It’s not that. I…I don’t want to assume anything more, not when you’re such a precious person to me. I’m just scared of ruining what we have between us.”

Albert turned his attention back to you, using the hand that was still on your waist to pull you close to him again. Taking your other hand in his, he lifted it up to his lips, your faces now just mere inches apart.

“And what if I were to say that I do want something more?”

You almost wanted to pinch yourself to make sure it wasn’t all a dream.

But you still felt the press of his lips against yours, took in the smell of his cologne, and memorized the touch of his fingers running along your cheek. It was not a dream. It was even better.

Albert leaned down next to your ear, his breath fanning against your skin. “If one kiss isn’t enough to convey how much my heart yearns for you, then allow me to kiss you until you’re breathless, and no more words of doubt are left on your tongue.”

Albert smiled as your face grew redder, and with the way he bit his lip, you knew he was struggling not to comment on it.

“For a noble, you sure lack any semblance of shame, Master Albert."

Albert shook his head and chuckled to himself, that mischievous glint having once again returned to his eyes. “Keep teasing me and you’ll find out just how shameless I can be, darling.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Do you want to find out?”

Despite your flustered state, you couldn’t help but laugh, squeezing Albert’s hand tighter in yours. “If you want to kiss me so badly, do so in a place that’s actually romantic, will you?”

Taking you by the hand, Albert began to lead you outside of the ballroom and into the rose gardens. “Of course, and I’ll take my time to make sure I kiss you properly.”

You made a mental note to thank William and Louis for letting you tag along to the ball. If all went well, they would end up becoming your own brothers-in-law, after all.

But that could wait until you finally had Albert’s affections all to yourself.

#moriarty the patriot #moriarty the patriot x reader #albert moriarty #albert moriarty x reader #kat writes #IT'S FINALLY HERE #Honestly I'm so happy with this one :3

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prose-for-hire · 3 months ago

Text

Should I Stay or Should I Go? (Part Three)

Part One // Part two // Part Four

Pairing: Spike x Giles!reader

Part three of four 💖

Warning: reader drinks/smokes, difficult relationship with Giles and not friends with Buffy.

He had been searching for you when you hadn’t returned, his face steeped in worry as he stormed through the night to find you. Maybe you had got lost or eaten in that annoying human way. He cared for you deeply. He couldn’t help it and as he walked through Sunnydale until the light started to singe his body, he knew that he couldn’t fight his feelings anymore.

It had been five days. He had caught your scent around the UC Sunnydale campus but he kept losing it in certain places. He needed to see you, needed to make sure that you were okay.

He had been sleeping in your bed clinging to your clothes, bathing in your scent. Wishing he could have you back by his side again, where he was more sure each day that you truly belonged. He wished to have you pressed against him again, cradle you in his arms, grip your body in his bed.

He had found you five days later by chance, stalking into the Bronze looking for something to pass the time. His mind on you but he had little hope that you would appear before him. He was even beginning to worry he had dreamt you up.

Until, well, there you were. Stood at the side of the Bronze looking miserable as you swirled your drink around. You were talking to a redhead who looked a little exhausted by your company.

He stepped back, watching you intently as if you were a mirage. He wanted to reach out and touch you so badly but he was afraid you may be a cruel illusion. He had looked for you for days, he had worried sick about you.

From the dark he overheard your conversation, you had left because of the kiss. It had overwhelmed you as much as you had wanted to stay in the moment forever.

“I just don’t know… should I go? Should I stay?” You asked, not for the first time since you had started talking to her.

“I, uh, I’m still not sure Spike is exactly boyfriend material”

“I’m not trying to make a blanket out of him, Will” You said smiling softly at the idea of Spike wrapping his arms around you.

Your indecision was bugging even yourself as you spoke about it for the millionth time. Willow was at a loss as to what to say other than that Spike was very dangerous and ultimately evil. You were already way past that and had seen the good in him as well as the bad. You liked both but you knew that this would sever any chance at reconciling with your Dad.

“Embarrassed, is that it?” Spike asked, his eyes not meeting yours as he stepped from the shadows. His eyes were haunted by a situation much like this, some decades earlier. He felt it, the rejection, the pain. It was so acute and written on his face so clearly that you could almost feel it yourself.

“Spike, it’s not like that, I-”

“You used me for a cheap thrill and then went toddling back to your boring little life livin’ under Daddy’s thumb”

He stormed out, lighting up a cigarette as he walked, his duster whipping around him as he walked into the street. You ran after him, ignoring his muttering about not even getting to the thrilling part.

You grabbed his shoulder and he let you turn him to face you. He was agonisingly close, you even found his frown cute. His anger desirable. You wanted to kiss his pain away, remove the furrow from his brow. Offer up any thrill that he could possibly want.

“If you don’t want me then bloody well let me free” He moved as if to push past you but you took his hand. With your touch he softened, even slightly.

“I was scared, Spike”

“Now you find the time to bloody fear me”

“It’s just, I was trained from a child to be a Watcher and as much as I never cared for it, things like that are kinda difficult to unlearn. Suddenly I was ten years old again being screamed at by some stuffy Watchers when I started to empathise with one of the vampires in our case studies.”

You had been wrestling with your own morality. It was a battle you could never win when kissing Spike felt so right but everything you had been taught until now had told you it was so wrong.

He nodded, understanding that where you come from can impact your life, and even your un-life. He was still reeling from the rejection, it had hurt in a way that he hadn’t felt since he was human. He offered you a smoke, you took it, leaning into him as he flicked his lighter on for you. Your eyes met, deepening your gaze as you inhaled the thick smoke.

Nothing was said in this time, though it lasted for an age, something unspoken was communicated. Shared.

He lowered himself, his duster sliding from his shoulder slightly as he knelt on the floor his cigarette bobbing from his lips as he spoke, “I’m on my knees here, pet, I can’t lose you. Love like this comes once an eternity.”

“Love?”

You reached for him, lowering yourself to kneel with him, your hands clasping his after flicking your cigarette away. You couldn’t help the way your doubts creeped into your head, how your upbringing made you question every move that you made in terms of good and evil.

“Where do we go from here?”

“Come home?”

You had barely nodded before he slammed his lips against yours, your knees resting uncomfortably on the tarmac, but all you could think about was the way he felt against you. The urgency in which he kissed, the way he cradled your face in his hands, caressed your skin. He felt divine beneath your hands, his lips felt heavenly on yours.

How could anything about this be wrong?

You leaned against him, your forehead pressed against his as you panted trying to regain your composure. You stayed like that for a while in the dark alley before you took his hand again and walked towards your shared crypt.

From there, you took things slow. Much slower than either of you would like. You often fell asleep against him in the evenings and shared such deep confessions. Of your pasts, of your feelings for the other.

After a week of settling back into your home, you had an unwelcome houseguest. And she didn’t even bring a home-warming gift.

Buffy slammed the door to your crypt so hard that it almost came clean off its hinges. She came to tell you that your father had been turned into some demon by Ethan Rayne and she wanted to make sure that you knew that he was okay. That he was shaken but unharmed and would perhaps appreciate a visit from his family.

You mumbled something about going to visit sometime but realised this was the wrong decision. Buffy saw this as an opportunity to give you some (again, unwelcome) advice.

“Look, y/n, as a friend-”

“We were never really friends, Buffy”

The young girl looked surprisingly hurt, perhaps she had truly seen you as a friend and you had misjudged her. She had, of course, never been anything other than pleasant to you. You had just allowed your jealousies to fester beyond control. Plus she was self-righteous in a kind of annoying way.

“Well, friend or not I care about you because I care about Giles. Grow up, y/n, the rebel act was kinda last season. He misses you”

“He made it very clear that I’m not welcome, why would him letting Ethan make him all Fyarl-y make a difference?”

“You can’t be happy here, with him” she visibly shuddered as he walked up to join you from the lower level of the crypt. You appreciated that you got a glimpse of his athletic torso beneath his unbuttoned red shirt.

He slung an arm around you, squeezing your shoulder and whispering in your ear. You were too comfortable together and Buffy looked as if it made her physically sick. She threatened Spike vaguely, gave you another warning and then with a hair flip she stormed back out of the crypt and slammed the door shut behind her.

The thing that irritated you the most was that she genuinely thought she was ‘saving you from yourself’. That you had taken the wrong path. That the love, this amazing and beautiful feeling that you had never quite felt anything like before, was somehow wrong. Or gross. Or evil.

Which had fed into your thoughts the first time you had been close to Spike. You wouldn’t let it happen again. You hated the distance. The way his absence had physically pained you.

Spike guided you back down to the his bedroom, pressing soft kisses against your jaw, nipping at your neck and caressing his lips down your chest. He wanted you all to himself, he wouldn’t let you go again. Not now he knew how good life could be with you in it. By his side, in his bed.

By late afternoon you were lying on your side in his bed, watching him writing in a notebook. Papers littered the floor of the crypt. He hadn’t had such inspiration since he was human. You had brought him back to life. Revived him.

“Did you mean it, when you said you loved me?” You asked softly, your fingers trailing softly against his muscled arm.

“Never meant anything more,”

He had, of course, noted that you hadn’t said it to him. It stung a little but he would rather have you by his side even if you didn’t love him than not at all. He knew you cared for him, of course. Knew that you felt safe with him. Knew that he would kill any man, demon or slayer that came anywhere near you.

He put his writing down, shifting himself and burying his face into the crook of your neck. He would give anything to hear you say it.

“Say you’re mine, love, and I’ll be here until the end of time,” He pleaded between landing slow kisses against your exposed skin.

“I love you, Spike, I think… I think I’ve always been yours,” You whispered as if you were afraid he might overhear.

He smirked darkly, his fangs bared and his face morphed from beyond your line of vision. Your eyes were closed, enjoying his touch. He suddenly wrenched your head to the side, exposing your neck further.

He could feel your pulse thrumming faster now.

He swallowed thickly, before propelling himself towards your neck, ignoring the firing from his chip as he held you in place…

#spike x reader #spike btvs x reader #spike btvs #spike imagine #spike x you #buffy the vampire slayer #btvs imagine #btvs x you #btvs x reader #btvs #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #buffyverse

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hotgirlbedtimescenarios · 2 months ago

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hellloooo kt 💖

for a blurb: joel and reader on a camping trip. maybe they go swimming in a lake and watch the stars at night time :)

fluffy or smutty idc i just love how u write joel! 🤍🤍🤍

Hello sweet Lali! ❤️ Your compliment goes straight to my heart; thank you so much. 🥹 I’m equally, if not even more, obsessed with how YOU write, Joel. Anyways...

So, I kind of got carried away with this one, and it turned into much more than a blurb. Once the fluff began, I couldn't stop it. Whoops. I hope you like it :)

Forever Like This

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

Words: >1k

Vibes: fluffy & flirty

———

“Are you sure about this, Joel? Where are we going?” you call out, your voice a little breathless as you trail behind him along the thick forest path.

The sun is low in the sky, casting long shadows between the trees. You've been walking for what feels like ages, your legs sore from the hike, and the soft rustling of leaves around you makes it feel as though you're stepping deeper into the heart of the woods. You can’t help but wonder if you’re lost.

Joel glances back over his shoulder, his brown eyes gleaming with that familiar spark of mischief. He shifts the overnight bags in his hand, effortlessly transferring their weight to one arm before reaching out to take your hand. His touch is warm and grounding. “We’re almost there,” he says with a grin that only makes your curiosity grow.

Minutes later, the forest parts, and suddenly, you step into an open meadow. The sight takes your breath away. Sunlight filters through amber and gold leaves overhead, casting everything in a warm, golden glow. A soft breeze stirs the tall grass, making it sway. The leaves above rustle gently, sending a flurry of them dancing in the air, floating slowly to the earth below.

In this picturesque clearing sits a small log cabin, its wood weathered with age. It's tucked away into the corner of the clearing. A sparkling lake stretches out to one side, the water mirroring the clear blue sky. A little john boat lies tipped on its side at the water’s edge, its wood faded from years of use.

Your heart skips in your chest, overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of the scene. “What is this place?” you ask, your voice soft with awe, turning to look at Joel.

Joel’s gaze is already on you, watching the wonder in your expression. He smiles, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. “This cabin’s been in my family for years,” he explains, leading you toward the clearing. “Tommy and I used to come here to hunt or fish when we had the time. Haven’t been in a while, though.”

You look up at him, your eyes catching on his rugged features, the rough stubble along his jaw, the intensity in his dark eyes, and the way his dark hair flips slightly at the nape of his neck. You feel an undeniable sense of peace just being here, beside him.

“C’mon,” he says, guiding you toward the cabin. “Let’s get settled.”

The cabin’s door creaks as Joel unlocks it, revealing a small, cozy interior. The air smells of pine and wood, with the faintest trace of something earthy. As you explore the cabin, you notice little wooden carvings scattered throughout the room, birds, bears, and tiny trees, all crafted by hand. You imagine Joel sitting here by the firelight, carving late into the night.

Joel opens the windows, letting in the cool autumn air, and begins to unpack the bags. “Spent a lot of nights here when I was a kid,” he says, his voice softer now. “Tommy and I used to fight over who got to steer the boat. I learned how to hunt here, shot my first deer in these woods.” There’s a faraway look in his eyes as he speaks, lost in the memories.

You listen intently, feeling the weight of his words, then glance around at the tiny cabin. The wooden walls, the faded rugs, the firewood stacked neatly by the door, it all feels so personal.

Joel offers you a smile and gestures toward the lake. “Come on.”

You follow him, shoes and socks quickly discarded as you step into the soft, cool grass. The lake stretches out before you, its surface smooth and inviting. You dip your toes in, and a burst of laughter slips from your lips when tiny fish begin to dart around your feet. They nibble lightly at your skin, and you shriek, pulling your feet out of the water in surprise. Water splashes onto Joel, who’s sitting right beside you.

You glance at him, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but when you see the damp patches on his T-shirt and the playful glint in his eyes, the teasing smile on his lips, you know exactly what’s coming.

A huff of laughter rumbles from his chest and he smirks, “I was just thinkin it might be nice to take a dip.” Before you can scramble away he’s pulling you into his arms with a swift move, lifting you effortlessly off the ground.

You squeal in surprise, trying to wriggle free, but Joel just chuckles as he carries you toward the water. “Joel! No, don’t!” you laugh, your voice half-pleading, half-giggling, “Our clothes!”

Your struggle is futile. Before long, he’s wading into the lake, the cool water quickly rising to his knees. He releases you when the water’s chest-high, and you find yourself drenched, laughing helplessly as Joel grins at you, clearly pleased with himself.

“Refreshing, huh?” he smirks, his voice deep and amused.

“Yeah,” you say, sticking out your tongue at him, “I guess it’s not too bad.”

The two of you spend the next few minutes wading and splashing, playfully dunking each other in the water, until you both end up stripped down to your underwear, your soggy clothes thrown onto the shore. You float together, bodies pressed against each other in the water, content in the intimacy of the moment.

Joel wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. He presses a soft kiss to the tip of your wet nose, his breath warm against your skin. “Did I do good? Like the surprise?” he murmurs, his voice tender, hopeful.

“Perfect,” you whisper, and then kiss him. It starts off innocent and slow but builds, passion quickly catching flame. Beneath the water you wrap your legs around his torso, anchoring yourself to him and his hands cup the cheeks of your ass, kneading the flesh. His tongue sweeps against your bottom lip, begging for entrance and you allow it as your fingers tangle in his hair.

A groan rumbles in Joel's chest; it vibrates against you where yours is pressed up against him. His fingers skirt at the edge of your panties, asking for permission. To his surprise, you pull away from the kiss, and he watches you with a puzzled look, confusion in his lust-filled eyes.

“Not here,” you breathe, nodding toward the water. “Too many fish... and who knows what else is swimming around in here.”

Joel’s eyes narrow in playful frustration, but his lips curl into a grin.

“That cabin got a shower big enough for two?” you ask, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

He groans low in his chest, his eyes dark with desire. “We’ll make it fit,” he grumbles, giving you a squeeze that makes you laugh.

“Well, what are we still doing out here?” you tease.

“Fuck if I know”, and before the last syllable has left his mouth the both of you scramble out of the water, dripping wet and laughing as you race toward the cabin.

———

Later, after the sun has set and the stars begin to twinkle against the clear night sky next to a thin sliver of the moon, you and joel lie on a blanket in the meadow, the cool grass beneath you.

The sounds of the forest are a backdrop to the two of you, an owl hooting and insects humming in the distance. A cool wind skirts across the meadow, and you lean into Joel, the warmth of his body blooming beside you.

“I don’t think I’ll ever want to leave,” you sigh dreamily, perfectly content at where you find yourself, resting your head on his chest and listening to the steady beat of his heart.

Joel wraps an arm around you, pulling you close, planting a kiss on the crown of your head. He grins to himself secretly, thinking about the diamond ring in a tiny blue box hidden in his suitcase just a few yards away in the cabin.

“You're right,” he murmurs, his voice equally content, “I could do this forever.”

#joel miller x reader #fluff #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro characters #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #game joel #one shot #joel miller drabble #asks #request

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imeanitplsmorenamifics · 10 months ago

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Hi! Can I get the “I think he knows” prompt with Luffy? 💖

Hey! Yes, you absolutely can! I'm so sorry for the late response! I was so busy and I was taking a break from writing for a while but I'm back now! I hopefully won't be disappearing anytime soon 😭. Anyway, I hope you like this! You can find my Flower Asks here, Hozier asks are here, and my Taylor Swift Asks here. You can find my masterlist here and my rules here. And you can request here! I Think He Knows: You are ridiculously in love with him and haven't confessed yet. He already knows. Characters: Luffy, GN!Reader Pairings: Luffy x GN!Reader TW: None that I know of!

I Think He Knows

.·:·.✧ ✦✧.·:·.

If there’s one thing you’ve always been sure of, it’s the fact that you are helplessly in love with Luffy.

You guys met when you were kids. You had been saved by Shanks' crew and he brought you to a village where you happened to meet someone Shanks knew. A kid your age named Luffy.

From the first time meeting, you knew there was a deeper feeling you felt for him. You were a kid at the time so you weren’t too sure what the feeling was exactly. All you knew was that you always wanted to be around him. You were basically his shadow. The two of you were inseparable.

When you were younger, everyone always thought what you felt for him was a puppy love crush. They had no idea what to think when you felt exactly the same way when you grew older.

You never felt like anybody really knew how you felt about him. It was much different from the way they described it. They said that you always felt like being around him. You didn’t feel that way, you needed to be around him.

He made you feel a way that no one else had ever made you feel. Your heart raced when you were around him, you felt like you had enough energy to power a city. Everything was perfect when you were with him.

People were always a little confused by your feelings toward him. When you would explain, they would say to confess to him. You always said no. At first, they thought it was because you were shy. But you were always to forward when it came to him. So why didn’t you ever confess?

The answer was pretty simple. You never confessed because you knew that he already knew how he felt about you.

He was always appreciative of your touches. He wanted to be around you just as much as you wanted to be around him. He would always sneak into your room at night so you could hang out and talk. He always begged for you to pay attention to him. He was just as obsessed with you as you were of him. You both always gravitated toward each other.

You never wanted to force anything, especially a relationship, with him. You wanted things to happen organically, naturally. If it’s meant to be, it will all work out.

You just hoped that he made some kind of move soon. You knew that you could easily be the best thing to happen to someone and, if you know you’re worth a lot, you wouldn’t want to wait forever for someone who doesn’t confess what they feel.

Knowing the two of you... You’re bound to get together soon.

#one piece #opla x reader #one piece live action #one piece netflix #one piece x reader #opla #one piece imagine #one piece oneshots #opla luffy x reader #luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy #luffy x you #opla x you #one piece x you

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astroa3h · 11 months ago

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❤️‍🔥 asteroid valentine through the houses ❤️‍🔥

Asteroid Valentine (447) isn't just another mundane space rock orbiting the Sun 🌞; it was discovered on October 27, 1899, by the eagle-eyed French astronomer Auguste Charlois 👀🇫🇷. Standing out from the crowd of generic asteroids adrift in the cosmic expanse, this one boasts some serious pizzazz, seemingly nodding to Saint Valentine himself—the icon of all things mushy and romantic 💘, immortalized by legends and the gooey celebrations of Valentine's Day. Bearing the name Valentine, it's no shocker this asteroid has turned into the cosmic hotspot 🔥 for unraveling the enigmas of pulse racing obsession. It's like the universe's own twisted cupid 🏹💖, laying bare the types of swooners you magnetize and their lovestruck shenanigans when they're utterly smitten with you.

❤️‍🔥 1st House: In the 1st house, you attract the “Shadow Follower”. This individual is mesmerized by your very presence and seems to be wherever you are, blending into the background but always watching. They admire everything about you, from the way you walk to the way you talk, often mimicking your style or interests in an attempt to close the gap between you. Be aware you may attract narcissists.

❤️‍🔥 2nd House: When Valentine graces your 2nd house, it brings the “Lavish Obsessor” into your life. This person showers you with gifts and material symbols of affection, believing that the key to your heart is through extravagant displays of wealth. Their obsession lies in owning the best, and that includes their relationship with you. They see you as a prize to be won, a luxury to be possessed. You are the ultimate trophy.

❤️‍🔥 3rd House: In the 3rd house, the “Conversation Hacker” is drawn to you. This individual hangs on your every word, obsessively analyzing texts and conversations for hidden meanings. They're likely to deep dive into your social media history, bringing up topics or inside jokes you barely remember, demonstrating an unsettling level of interest in your thoughts and communications. I wouldn’t be surprised to see a lot of weirdos in your DM’s.

❤️‍🔥 4th House: With Valentine in the 4th house, you attract the “Home Invasion Romantic”. This partner wants to be so involved in your life that they overstep boundaries, wanting to move in too soon or redecorate your space to suit what they believe is best for "us." They're fixated on creating a domestic bliss that you didn't sign up for, insisting on being your ultimate comfort but in a way that feels more invasive than nurturing.

❤️‍🔥 5th House: When Valentine visits your 5th house, it brings the “Jealous Admirer” into your love life. This type is intoxicated by your creativity and zest for life but is also fiercely envious of anyone else who shares your attention. They want to be your muse and your audience, the only one you perform for, often leading to dramatic displays of jealousy that can turn any romantic scene into a thriller. Fatal Attraction VIBES.

❤️‍🔥 6th House: In the 6th house, you draw the “Routine Stalker”. This individual is obsessed with your daily routines and habits, often rearranging their schedule to "coincidentally" bump into you. They take note of your likes, dislikes, and even your coffee order, using this information to craft themselves into the perfect partner, always just one step away from being too much in sync with your life. This placement can turn dangerous, watch your back.

❤️‍🔥 7th House: Valentine in the 7th house attracts the “Binding Contract Lover”. This person sees your relationship as a deal that's been sealed, treating every interaction like a contractual obligation forever. They're intensely committed to the idea of "us against the world," often pushing for commitments or declarations of love that feel more like chains than choices. Those with this placement are likely to cheat on long-term partners, unsure how to escape unhappy relationships.

❤️‍🔥 8th House: With Valentine in the 8th house, the “Soul Chain Romantic” is drawn to you. This lover believes in a connection that transcends the physical, claiming a depth of bond that feels more like a possession. They're drawn to your darkness and secrets, wanting to merge in ways that erase individual boundaries, but this is a placement that also draws sexually deviant partners your way.

❤️‍🔥 9th House: In the 9th house, you attract the “Obsessive Quester”. This partner is obsessed with the idea of you as their ultimate quest, an adventure to be conquered. They're drawn to your beliefs and philosophies but twist them to fit their narrative of a grand love story, often pushing you into roles and situations that feel more epic in their head than in reality. Expect a lot of love bombing followed by ghosting with this placement.

❤️‍🔥 10th House: Valentine in the 10th house brings the “Public Claimer” into your orbit. This individual is obsessed with how the relationship looks to the outside world, constantly posting, tagging, and declaring their love for you in very public ways. They're more interested in the status of being with you than the actual connection, often putting on a show of affection that feels performative rather than genuine.

❤️‍🔥 11th House: In the 11th house, Valentine attracts the “Ideological Chameleon”, someone who obsessively aligns with your hopes, dreams, and social circles. They seamlessly adopt your interests and ideologies, aiming to become your perfect match. This partner integrates so deeply into your world that they begin to mirror you, losing their individuality in the process. They are harmless though, usually truly loving you. Just don’t break their heart, they might end up dating your BFF out of revenge.

❤️‍🔥 12th House: With Valentine in the 12th house, you draw in the “Phantom Soulmate”. This partner feels a deep, unseen connection to you, believing they knew you in a past life. They love from the shadows, perhaps through anonymous gestures or silent admiration, convinced of a spiritual link between you. This is actually my favorite Valentine placement, think of the Gomez Adams to Morticia.

xox astro ash

Get your own astrology reading @ astroash.net

TikTok - astroa3h

#astrology #astrology readings #astrology aspects #natal chart #astrologer #astro observations #astro notes #astro community #astrology blog #daily astrology #astrology houses #horoscopes #zodiac #astro placements #birth chart #valentine #valentines day #Asteroid Valentine (447)

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aphroditelovesu · 1 year ago

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.navigation

✿.｡Welcome to my blog! My name is Larissa, but feel free to call me Lari or Lady L, which is how you know me. I'm Brazilian 🇧🇷 and I was born on October 15th. English is not my first language. My pronouns are she/her and I am bisexual 💖💜💙. I am Libra ♎️ and INTP.

⤷♡. If you want to support my work or to just tip me, can you buy me a coffee? ☕️

⤷✿.Here I've gathered all my series, masterlists and some additional things to make them easier to find. Enjoy my blog, dear reader.

⤷♡.+ disclaimer: some of my works may have nsfw content in addition to the yandere genre. if you are sensitive to these topics, I recommend not reading.

⤷♡.+ genre: yandere/dark!au.

⤷♡.+ Requests are OPEN. Asks and concepts are open.

⤷♡.+ character ai: aphroditelovesu.

⤷♡.+ Rules and Fandoms List;

⤷♡.+ Emoji Prompt List + Prompts List;

⤷♡.+ Wips; 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6; 7; 8;

⤷♡.+ Commissions;

‘‘Love you so bad, love you so bad, mold a pretty lie for you.’‘ ˚˖੭ Fake Love, BTS.

⤷♡.+ BTS; 💜

⤷♡.+ BLACKPINK; 🖤

⤷♡.+ ITZY; 🧡

⤷♡.+ Stray Kids; 💙

➷ EXO: Yandere Baekhyun (Romantic), Yandere Suho (Romantic).

➷ TWICE: Imagine as Classmates.

⤷♡.+ Greek Mythology; ⚡

⤷♡.+ Egyptian Mythology; 𓂀

⤷♡.+ Historical Characters; 📜

➷ The Lost Queen | Yandere!Alexander the Great ❝You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn't understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren't safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won't let you go so easily.❞ The Lost Queen Series Masterlist

⤷♡.+ The Vampire Diaries + The Originals; 🧛

⤷♡.+ House of the Dragon; 🐉

⤷♡.+ Game of Thrones; ❄️

⤷♡.+ The Sandman; ⌛

⤷♡.+ Outlander; 🗿

⤷♡.+ Wednesday; 🎻

⤷♡.+ Brooklyn Nine-Nine; 👮‍♂️

⤷♡.+ Bridgerton; 🐝

⤷♡.+ Shadow and Bone; ☠️

⤷♡.+ Outer Banks; 💰

⤷♡.+ K-Dramas; ❤️

⤷♡.+ Reign; 👑

⤷♡.+ The Tudors; 🗡️

⤷♡.+ Hannibal; 🍽

➷ The Bloody Viscount | Yandere!Anthony Bridgerton ❝You had fallen in love with Viscount Bridgerton and he had fallen in love with you. The marriage seemed perfect, but then why did Anthony Bridgerton always come home late and bloodstained?❞ Prologue; Chapter 1; Chapter 2; ➷ The Shadow of the Golden Dragon | Yandere!ASOIAF/HOTD/GOT ❝You have always been an avid reader and your greatest passion was delving into the pages of "A Song of Ice and Fire" by George R.R. Martin. You knew every character, every twist and every detail of the Seven Kingdoms as if they were part of your own life. But what you never imagined is that an unexpected encounter with a mysterious antique book seller would change your life forever.❞ The Shadow of the Golden Dragon Masterlist

⤷♡.+ Percy Jackson; 🌊

⤷♡.+ Harry Potter; 🔮

⤷♡.+ A Court of Thorns and Roses; 🌹

⤷♡.+ A Song of Ice and Fire; 🔥

‘‘We were born to be alone but why we still looking for love?’‘ ˚˖੭ Lovesick Girls, BLACKPINK.

⤷♡.+ Attack on Titan; ⚔️

⤷♡.+ Naruto; 🍥

⤷♡.+ Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir; 🐞

⤷♡.+ One Piece; 👒

⤷♡.+ How To Train Your Dragon; 🐲

⤷♡.+ Death Note; 📓

‘‘Don’t you know that you’re toxic?’’ ˚˖੭ Toxic, Britney Spears.

⤷♡.+ Marvel; ۞

‘‘I wish you would love me again, no, I don't want nobody else.’’ ˚˖੭ Love Me Again, V.

⤷♡.+ Love Letters; 💕

⤷♡.+ Love Letters II; 💕

⤷♡.+ Kinktober 2023; 🎃

➷ A Black Rose | Yandere!Ian Daerier ❝A cruel and narcissistic reaper falls in love with the woman he was supposed to take the life of.❞ Oneshot;

#navigation #masterpost #masterlist #masterlists #rules #fandoms list #prompts #emoji prompt #prompt list #yandere au #love letters #wips #yandere #dark au #📌 pinned post

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mokie-bleh · 10 months ago

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Author can I have a scenario where y/n child is ticklish? and Shadow Milk Cookie found out about it and started gently tickling at first, and then he got into the taste and got carried away. Have a nice day, sweetheart. 😘 Oh! I almost forgot to hold it (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ *Gives a lot of happiness, love and respect 💟🌹🌹😀🌹🌹😀😀💞💞😄😄😏❤️❤️❤️😄😄😄💞💞💕💕💕❣️💋💋💓💋❣️💖💌♥️♥️♥️❣️💖💋❣️❣️💕😌😆🤗😆😌🤗🙂🙂😃😃😹😹😚😚😚☺️😁😁🎉🎉🎉😉😉💘💝💝💝😙😚😚😊😊☺️😉* *Oops, are you okay? * helps to get up this mimic lapulka*

Thank you for all the love is much appreciated ☺️☺️ i did see your other one and don’t worry i’m working on it and other requests too have a good day!👍

Shadow Milk Cookie x Child! reader

platonic!

The way he found out goes something like this.

You both were just chilling and he offered to take you out for a walk. You agreed since you were sitting too long and you wanted to run around for a bit and explore.

At some point you got tired from walking for so long and not having that much stamina in you from running and playing.

Shadow Milk Cookie did notice this and offered to give you a piggyback ride. You looked up at him and nodded, greatly accepting his offer. He went to go pick you up and doing so he gently grazed your sides causing you to giggle.

He paused for a moment. Then he got this huge shit eating grin on his face. “Ooohhh y/n~ I had no idea you were ticklish!”

He did eventually pick you up and placed you on his shoulders. However, he decided he wanted to test some things…

When you guys got back he grabbed you off his shoulders and held you in one arm. You were confused as to what he was doing, but you quickly found out what he was trying to do.

You squealed loudly as he lightly started to poke your stomach. “Hehe wow you're sensitive here too!” This started going for a bit until he placed you down. You thought it was over and that he was done.

Nope! He kneeled down just right above you and started reaching for other areas on you. You laughed and shifted uncomfortably as you tried to prevent him from continuing.

He’d make his comments like

“Wow y/n you’re so ticklish!”

“Ooohhh I’m gonna get you~!”

“Hehe, you’re so cute I could just eat you up!”

“You’re so silly y/n! I could do this forever!”

Something like that.

Let’s hope he doesn’t go on forever. You didn’t know how much you could take. He went for your sides, your stomach, under your arms, just anywhere that would cause you to laugh and squirm.

You’re basically praying for mercy at this point.

Thankfully, he did stop and decided to give you a break. Your laughter died soon enough and you were just laying there trying to catch your breath. He left you to rest since you were exhausted from laughing and squirming too much.

#cookie run kingdom #crk #shadow milk cookie #shadow milk cookie x reader #crk x reader

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simp4konig · 1 year ago

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"Can't sleep?" König x Gender-neutral Reader

Word count: 3704

Having flashbacks about the battlefield and unable to fall asleep after an exceptionally draining mission, you go seek the comfort of your Colonel in the middle of the night.

*Slow burn

*ANGST!!💔... dw it gets wholesome at the end i promise ❤️

*Thanj you to Azzy!! (My No.1 Fan...🥹🫂💘) for this request !!!🙋🏼‍♀️💫💞💞✨Love u too🫶💕,, I kind of 🥺slightly🥺 maube a littke bit🥺🥺🥺went off prompt and König isnt affected by the mission per se BUT i have fulfilled the CUDDLING part!!! ☺️☺️pls dont show up to my fhome with pitchforks and torches im sry it just sorta happened ok😱

Also i rhink i have dementia bc I thought someone else rqsted König comfortinf rreader in a storm???😰😰Turns out nobody did so maybe i hallucinated it or smtj idk🤷🏼‍♀️Anyways I thought to merge these two ideas together so lmk what u think abt this lil (by "lil" i mean WAY too long🤪) drabble🙏💕

*Reader is pining for König

*Events loosely take place in the KönigxKing (as in, reader's call-sign is "King" storyline) mini-series. This serves as a slight backstory for King (reader). Again, this is by no means in any chronological order in relation to the series, so this can also be read as stand-alone! :)

*THANK YOU FOR 100+ FOLLOWERS!!!!!! 🥳🎉🎊✨🎇💖I SWEAR ONE IT LITERALLT FEELS LIKE MID-AUGUST WHEN I HAD LIKE 7 WHERE DID U ALL COME FEOM??????😰😰💘 IT MEANS SO MUCH FOR ME LIKE I CANR STRESS THIS ENOIGH BC IM SO HAPPG U GUYS THINK MEWORTHY ENOIGH OF YOUR PRECIOUS FOLLOW AND WANT TO READ MY WACK WORKS!!!!!!🤧🤧💖💖 LIKE??????? 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹THANK U THABK YOU RHABK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🫶🥰🥰💖💖💖❤️💞💞💕💖💕💕💞

...

You couldn't sleep.

It was raining relentlessly outside, the pitter-patter of water droplets hitting your window. Storm clouds boomed loudly outside, and despite the blinds being pulled tightly shut, lightning occasionally flashed through the cracks, elongated shadows of buildings forming on the walls.

Counting down the seconds until you'd hear the rumbling thunder, it would only be a few kilometres away, and you'd shudder at the sound, shivering.

While tossing and turning in bed, you had kicked off your covers and were staring at the ceiling, still wide awake. Normally, a storm like this would be like a lullaby to your ears, yet now it did nothing in helping lull you to sleep.

Even if you wanted to sleep, how could you when those corpses haunted your nightmares?

Laying in bed, your mind replayed the same scenes like a movie reel, the same screams like a broken record:

Lifeless, unblinking eyes with mouths agape and an expression of fear permanently engraved on their pale faces; flies swarming in hordes to harvest the soft tissues of the irises and tongue, eating the human mush; limbs contorted in unnatural positions, arms and legs crushed by the force of detonated mines, bones broken under the weight.

Rumbling roaring of machine guns and the deafening explosions from hand grenades meant that the high-pitched ringing would drown out everybody's yelling, muffle all noise from your surroundings, and you'd only be pulled out of your daze when you'd find yourself stumbling on unstable ground, on bricks and cheap concrete that had all crumbled.

Bodies would drop so fast it'd take at least seconds for you to register whether it had been an enemy or an ally.

You'd pull the trigger, but seeing a bullet go through someone's forehead and the exaggerated shock stamped on their face — a permanent expression in their final seconds remaining forever in death — left you wondering why you would ever sign up willingly to do this.

Disorientated, you'd struggle to pull yourself together, would enter far too many close calls for a soldier to count, and would only get a grip once you saw a familiar face, a reminder that you weren't alone in the warzone.

Even now, the sonorous sound kept echoing in your head, and, if you listened closely, it resembled hundreds of hoarse shouts, so many people screaming at once in collective agony.

You flinched as a bolt of lightning suddenly struck the sky.

Sparing an absentminded glance at your digital alarm clock, your eyes widened slightly at the time: 1:56am.

Damn... you thought. ...it's that late already?

Drills would begin at 7 o'clock, and you had to have woken up at 6 to brush your teeth, get dressed, eat, and mentally prepare yourself for the day, so you kissed a good night's sleep goodbye, and accepted the telling off from your superiors the following morning for under-performing.

...Still, how could you sleep after what you had experienced? What you experienced and would continue experiencing?

Accepting high-pressure missions and a demanding workload once you had enlisted, you thought that your ability to keep calm under pressure and stay composed would mean that you would have been unaffected by the shooting by now, and be taking everything in your stride. Calm, composed, and unaffected, is what you had thought you'd be. Surely you'd be able capable enough to cope with it all?

Yet, you weren't any of those things. Never getting used to the stress that would persist even while on supposedly "low-intensity" extractions. You'd always be on edge, always recoiling at hands that would reach over to tap your back as encouragement or hold your shoulder in reassurance on base.

You believed you could never familiarise yourself with the panic and unpredictability of missions and being hyper-aware of something, anything, everything going wrong, with the adrenaline that would course through your body and take over your senses in times of fight or flight, with the nerves that would keep you on edge hours after landing safely on base.

But, most of all, with the nights you'd lay in bed, unable to fall asleep: nights like these, when every time you closed your eyes, you saw the eyes of dying comrades; when every time you walked along the corridors, imagined yourself diving across the floor and felt shattered shrapnel breaking under your feet; when every time you sat in an empty room, heard ear-piercing blasts and the ricochet of discarded shells just missing your head.

Whereas the other operators seemed to be completed unmoved by any of their deployments and would shrug their shoulders off of the events, the anxiety for you lingered, trauma deep within your soul consuming you whole.

How could you ever get over the fact that you were shooting real people? Losing real soldiers?

...Losing yourself along the way?

All this work took a toll on your psyche, but comparing yourself to the other soldiers made you feel like such a coward, and second-guess ever enlisting in the first place.

...Well, you did so because it had been your only option all things considered, but looking back on it, you thought that maybe it would have been better if you hadn't chosen anything at all.

Accepted the grave nature of your failures in life, the same life that would have had inevitably ended with you pre-maturely in a grave.

After all, you had no job prospects to look forward to, no dreams to strive for, no aspirations to achieve.

Failing your school exams time and time again until you had finally achieved a result that was good enough didn't earn you any security, as you weren't exactly employable with grades you had just barely managed to claw to even pass.

Really, it was hopeless. You were hopeless.

To say your family was disappointed in you would have been an understatement. Out of three children, you were labelled the disappointment child, the underachiever and failure.

Your two siblings worked as a lawyer and an engineer respectively, while you had never even been able to grasp the basics in education, never spoke with your teachers of anything other than the worrying results of your exams, never came home to share a thing with your parents you had accomplished with a smile of pride stretched on your young face like your siblings did.

Never. Because you weren't ever good enough.

At the dinner table, your siblings boasted of promotions and of revolutionary research, of trials and of successes, of their brilliant breakthroughs, as you sat on the side of the table, listening from the sidelines, excluded from all of the grandeur that you couldn't relate to.

Still, it was always better to keep your mouth shut than to make a dent in the conversation, further embarass yourself and prove how lowly you were, than to have so many pairs of pitying eyes talking down on you in patronising tones, of the subtle condolences from your parents and their regret with triumphant smirks and condescending attitude from your siblings.

In a last ditch effort to make your parents proud, you made the decision of joining the military. You were young and impressionable, under the impression that your parents would finally be impressed.

...Of course, they weren't. In fact, your decision made them even more disappointed, shaking their heads sympathetically with strained smiles stretched on their lips.

Maybe that was the reason you couldn't handle the pressure of the military, you thought. You were weak, incompetent. Pathetic.

Although no one told you explicitly or made you feel that way directly, somehow, you always had felt inferior. Somehow, you felt that no matter what you did, how much you did, how well you thought you did, you wouldn't ever come close to the others's level.

That, despite your effort and dedication, you would never be good enough. Would always be inferior no matter what, because you always had been and would always be so.

...Your Colonel never made you feel that way, though, and you never quite understood why.

After all, your interactions were few-far-and-inbetween. It made you wonder what made you feel this way, and what spark ignited the warmth you'd feel when he was around.

Although a man of few words, the words that he did say to you would matter, though. His praise, his acknowledgement, his always being there made you want to keep going and prove your worth to him.

It started off as sporadic encouragement:

Your skin glistening with sweat, an accented voice would say "Gute Arbeit," over your crumpled body on the gym mat.

Offering you a gloved hand, you grasped it gratefully, and he pulled your tired body with ease. "Good job, King."

A lopsided smile from you as you'd wipe the sweat from your forehead and brows after sparring with someone else, limp limbs barely keeping you standing. His eyes were betrayed no emotion under his veil, yet a thin-lipped grin was behind it.

"Thank— you— sir!" You'd manage to breathe out, still panting for breath. "I did— my best, but— I didn't win."

"That does not matter," he'd say, speaking in a tone you couldn't quite recognize. "Very good job. Keep it going. Soon, you'll be able to pin even me down."

You'd laugh weakly at his words, yet would immediately feel a surge of motivation to keep working hard, and would train up to the point of exhaustion behind closed doors. Thinking you'd be alone, you'd punch a dufflebag with grunts of effort, missing the tall silhouette observing you with crossed arms in the corner, satisfied.

Then, those became casual greetings;

"Guten Morgen, soldier. Nice day, ja?"

Turning around, you'd see your Colonel walking towards you, frame visible even from a distance.

You smile broadly, eyes crinkling up in genuine joy, before you caught yourself and coughed. "Y-yeah!"

"Always a nice day whenever you're around, sir," you'd tease, playfully winking at him as he approached you, yet you were yet to master it without blinking both eyes.

He'd chuckle heartily, flattered, then shook his head to hide how his face flushed under his veil, and held up a hand.

"Thank Gott I have you here. My day would have been ruined."

"Have a good day, sir!" You'd call after him brightly, and he'd turn around for a final time with a two-fingered salute. Strange, since he was your superior, not the other way around, but you shrugged this off as a friendly gesture.

Until it developed into a sort of mutual connection.

In your eyes, at least.

You didn't want to assume that you two were friends, as the man was way out of your league. Strong, muscular, and a disciplined soldier — a Colonel, no less — a man of influence.

Besides, he, conversing with the only-recently-recruit-turned-soldier that was the slowest to understand a joke, did not comprehend complicated terms, and was the least bright out of the entire faction was not something you wanted him to be associated as, didn't want to tarnish his reputation.

You reasoned that you didn't want to bring down the Colonel down to your low level, so you kept your relationship as just that; associates. Aquaintances. Nothing more, out of respect for your Colonel.

Little did you know, the Colonel had developed a soft spot for you.

It seemed as though the storm had gotten worse, as the rain was unrelenting, and the tapping on the glass increased with force. Booming thunderclouds made your room shake.

A sigh as you turned to your side again. 2:07am.

Your thoughts moved back to your Colonel, and you started missing him, longing for him. The warmth that radiated off him made you wish he'd take you in his arms, hold you close to his chest, and you suddenly felt so cold. So lonely and cold.

Maybe it was childish of you to be feeling this way — he was your superior, after all, and you had no reason to be so attached — yet your daily encounters made you gain feelings for the man. Made you feel things when he was around.

Somehow, he brought you security. Made you feel protected. Safe. Like you could always count on him for having your back.

Made you forget that you were so useless, and was the reason for the fuzzyness within your chest, the buzzing feeling you'd feel as you'd be grinning from ear to ear after speaking to him.

Made you feel like you weren't pathetic. Weren't a wasted wishing star. Instead, you were appreciated, seen, even.

You wanted to see him. You wanted to be with him.

...Would he want you, though?

No. Of course he wouldn't. You weren't good enough.

A deep sigh. 2:15, the digital alarm clock displayed.

...What if he actually did want you? Not even as a partner, but just to be around him? Breathe the same air as him? You thought you weren't worthy of his time, but maybe, just maybe he wouldn't see it as such a waste.

Another crash of lightning brought you to your senses.

Finally making up your mind, you huffed in exertion as you pushed yourself off your stiff mattress, not bothering to organize the mess of blankets on the floor.

Walking with certainty, before you realised it, you were at König's bedroom door. Standing behind the door, hand hesitatingly reaching for the handle, you bit your lip, confidence wavering.

Should you really go through with this right now? What if he was asleep at that moment and all you'd do is disrupt his slumber? It wouldn't be fair of you to disturb him so late in the night, especially when he had so many responsibilities.

Still, you inhaled deeply, and, as quietly as you could, knocked twice.

You almost jumped out of your skin at the familiar accented voice of your Colonel.

"Come in," he said hoarsely. His tone was almost warm, inviting, yet you shook your head at the idea, and pulled the handle.

Entering inside, you slowly closed the door behind you. When you turned around, König was sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, seemingly deep in thought. Wearing a tank top and cargo pants, his head was hung low, his veil hanging loosely over his head.

The blinds were drawn open to reveal the sky dominated by darkness, the grey curtain of monochrome on the nearest buildings cast down by the clouds, the raindrops that remained on the windows and the rhythmic echoes against the pavement as they dropped in syncopation.

The sight, his presence, were both so... relaxing. In a way, your anxiety was relieved by the tranquility of the scene, and it made you forget the internal turnoil you had been going through for the past few hours, made the tension in your body fade.

"Ah, King," his arms dropped to his sides and he raised his head to meet your eyes in the dark. "I had a feeling that it would be you."

You fidgeted nervously, not knowing what to do.

"Bitte, schön," he said, patting the empty space beside him on the mattress. "Please, sit down. I insist."

Slowly lowering yourself to his side, you sat at a reasonable distance away from him. With the both of you sat down, the size difference was still very noticable. His height made him hunch over you, and one of his thighs was like the two of yours combined.

So nervous, you didn't even notice how his back slumped so you'd be both at a similar level.

He cleared his throat. "What brings you here so late in the night?"

An awkward tug of your t-shirt collar.

"Can't sleep," you stated simply.

"I see." He was quiet for a few moments. Then: "And you decided that my room was the place to go?"

Your face heated up, and you averted your gaze. "Well, sir, it's j-ju—"

"—Nein," he cut you off, holding up a hand to stop you. "I have told you so many times not to call me that. Call me König."

"But— but you're my superior," you gasped, mouth agape. "You deserve to be addressed with respect! I couldn't possibly—"

The protest died on your lips again as the man shook his head, the loose material of his veil following his movements. "Nein. None of that matters. I want you to call me by my first name."

A heavy silence lingered over the two of you, words left unsaid by you both.

"So," König prompted, "what brings you here, King?"

Pausing to think over a pretence, the best you could come up with was: "The storm scared me."

"Ja?" Even with the fabric covering his face, you could almost see the skeptical smirk on his lips.

"A soldier like you afraid of loud clouds? Some rain?" He chuckled.

"Really, I'd have thought you better than that, King." If you didn't know him well enough, you'd have thought he was mocking you, yet despite the sarcasm his eyes held a genuine concern for you.

An bashful laugh escaped you as you rubbed your arm, nails slightly digging into your skin.

"Okay, tell me the truth, King," Leaning forward, his tone became serious. "I know for certain you aren't scared."

He searched for your eyes, yet you avoided his gaze.

"Something is troubling you. Is that it?" He cocked his head to the side, fabric falling loosely over his shoulder. "You can tell me, King. I am your superior, you know. You should tell me these things."

"Well... it's j-just—"

You bit your lip, willing the tears to stay in your eyes.

Don't cry. Don't you dare cry.

König watched you, patiently waiting for you to continue.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, vulnerability showing in your eyes. "—This recent mission, it was— it was really, really difficult. And I just..."

König shuffled towards you until your knees were almost touching, watching you intently. As your body trembled, a hand hovered in uncertainty by your shoulder.

Sniffling, you wiped the wetness on your face with your arm, voice breaking.

"I-I just think that I'm not strong. That I'm... weak. Not— not good enough to be working with people that are so much better. So much stronger—"

Your breath hitched in your throat, voice coming out in a broken sob. "—I-I mean— I'm so pathetic. I shouldn't be so... weak. I should — I should be better. Wh-why—"

Tears flowed freely down your face. "—Why can't I be better, König? Why am I so— so useless?"

Without saying anything, König wrapped his strong arms around your body and pulled you against his chest, pulled you close so you could let it all out. For a few moments, he let you cry, ever-so-gently stroking the back of your head, fingers running through your hair. Weeping into his chest, his steady breathing soothed you.

Once you recovered enough from your emotions, you pulled away, downcast. Face red and blotchy with tears, eyes puffy and pink from crying, lips quivering and voice hoarse, you felt so pathetic. So, so pathetic.

"F-fuck, s-si— König—" Trembling. "I'm so so sorry. I'm too emotional, please, I'm sor—"

"Nein." His tone was soft, yet firm. Definitive. "You have nothing to apologise for, King."

Both hands cupped the sides of your face, tentatively tilting your face upwards. His expression was forlorn, and you felt tears brimming in your eyelids again.

"...You're not weak. You're not pathetic. You're not useless. I see you always trying so hard, King, always giving it your all..."

He paused for a few moments, deliberating over how best to put his thoughts into words. "...Maybe... maybe your best isn't the best out of anyone's bests, but it's the effort that counts." He rubbed the back of his neck, then let out a mono-syllabic laugh. "Scheiße, did that make sense? Sorry— I'm not good with words—"

You glanced away. "—Hey," his hand reached to hold to side of your face. "Look at me, King."

"You're not weak, not pathetic, not useless," he repeated, voice wavering.

"You're none of those. You're better than you think you are. Your inner strength," a finger pointed at your chest, "your heart, it's so full of goodness. So full of so many good things that don't define you, but instead changed you for the better."

"Maybe... maybe you aren't the aren't the best, haven't been the best, or never will be the best, but it's not your fault. You try so hard, and the odds... the odds are stacked against you. And, sometimes... sometimes it's okay to not be the best. You don't have to be fearless, the strongest, perfect. You can just be... you."

His eyes were pleading in the dark. "Please don't doubt yourself. You're so— so much better than you imagine."

A shaky breath. "So much stronger than you tell yourself. I can promise you, you are your own person. Other people's successes don't define you."

König turned around to glance at his alarm. 2:36.

When he turned back, your face had slowly regained the colour on your cheeks, eyes sparkled, chest rose and fall at a steady pace. You said nothing, yet König knew you listened to every one of his words.

"Looks like it's too late for you to fall asleep in your own room," he whispered, gently caressing your face. "Stay here with me, King."

Eyes immediately widening in surprise, you were about to protest. "B-but— I couldn't possibly, König—"

That protest died on your lips as König's arms engulfed you again, and brought you down against his mattress so you were laying on his chest. Cocooned like a protective blanket over you, you didn't need him to say anything more. You felt so... safe. Loved.

The storm outside seemed to calm down, and lightning no longer crashed against the window. Rain faltered, and some clouds were separating in the darkness of the sky.

Before you knew it, your eyelids became heavy with drowsiness, feeling a wave of calm wash over you, cleansing away your sorrows.

Just before you fell asleep, you heard König say something in German, barely above a whisper, but you did not understand:

"Schlaf gut Schatz. Ich liebe dich."

...

I don't know who needed to hear that, or if anyone even did, but I stand by the words I wrote. Although you are reading this, and are likely a stranger, and I'll never face you in real life, I want you to know that you *are* good enough. And if it takes a person on the internet using a fictional character to tell you so, then so be it. You are still valid. 🫂

...

Note: i rhink some of the ppl that read my previous fics will be able to tell that i went tryhard mode on this one 💀💀

Its mostly bc im back in school and were going over all the stupid fancy shmancy literative devices and figurstive language (god why cant u call it literallt anything else i swear why does it have ro be so unnecessarily overcomplicated just call it sentence structures or writing techniques istg.man😭)so i unconsciously chanelled all of thise boring technicalities into this 😬

With me writing as a hobby you'd think I'd have the highest grades in English? No💔I wish LMAO

I NOW HAVE 130+ FOLLOWERS!!! Which is unbelievable if u wsk me bc etf why wre eo mwnt people following me i don't deserve this qt ALL 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 THANK YOU ALL 🥹🥹🥹🫶🫶🫶💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓

I still remember when @puff0o0⭐ began their self-aware au with König and Ghost qnd ive qlways veen cheerint for her from the sidelines ☺️☺️come to find out shes been mentioning ME in THEIR podts and writing on their blofs thwt my CoD blog is good and i.????😭😭😭cant????????😭😭😭😭😭 Literally -99999 damage and an ARROW 🏹 STRAIGHT thru the HEART 💘🥹 I LOVE U B (platonically ofc dw)😽💕💓💓❤️💞💞💕💞💕💞💞💞💕

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reginalusus · 13 days ago

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Babe, please spill any angsty headcanons you have for Jason and Harvey!! I'm especially curious about Harvey's drug use.

Idk why, but I just love seeing my favs go through it💞💖💞💖

Ohhhh, of course, lovie, mwuhaha.

Now, I don't know if you mean Harvey and Jason as separate characters or together as a duo, so I shall do both. I'll put it under the cut since there may be triggering stuff.

Jason - He wants someone to be proud of him. Jason has always been one to strive to do what he thinks is best, and it's not that he expects thanks for it, but after trudging through his own version of Hell and reforming himself into a questionable saviour of Gotham despite everything that has been hammered into him as Robin, he'd just love a proud smile, a nod of acknowledgement. From someone. Anyone. To let him know he's doing something right. To let him know that he at least kept some semblance of the boy he was. - Said it before on the animation post, but, Jason will crawl into dark shadows when he's having a PTSD episode. Bruce always told him the shadows are somewhere that he could recover, that he was safe there. - "He took me away from you. So why couldn't you have done it for me?" - Jason feels like an anachronism whenever he is around the rest of the Batfamily. He's there with them as Red Hood, but they want him to be Robin - his Robin is from a different lifetime, a different era - so his placement feels wrong. He's in none of the recent photos, none of the memories on the walls. He's 'wrong'. - Jason's chest tightens at rising voices. He still looks for the nearest table to hide under sometimes, even if he'd do no such thing anymore. - While he was being tortured by Joker, he called out for his dead mother, not just Batman.

Harvey - Harvey has BDD, which developed in his early 20s. The tabloids who were against his running for DA/Mayor would use the 'Apollo' title to render him to a 'pretty boy lawyer'. It bordered on objectification. The scarring only made things worse. He still runs his hands along his face and tries to see what they saw.

- Because Harvey's DID is not normal, and he and Scarv alt between one another quite quickly sometimes, Harvey is burdened with physical pain the majority of the time. Headaches and jaw tension from the switching, and a dry, sore throat from the voice. He practically eats painkillers, and keeps them absolutely everywhere. - Additionally to that, Harvey may have an addiction problem with them. It hurts to hurt. But it hurts even more to not hurt - it's what he's used to. - "Anytime someone lays a hand on me, a touch of love, a gentle graze, I can feel it: they're trying to rip the Harvey Dent out of me. They're trying to bring a dead man back to life." - In his childhood, even after his father beat him to half-death in a drunken stupor, he'd still try to hug him. - Uhhhh, I don't wanna just come outright and say he hurts himself. He already does that in different ways. But he does it bluntly for a slightly different reason. Like. I feel like I explained it in my fic decently enough:

And that actually breaks us neatly into...

Harvey and Jason - Jason has a hard time time accepting that Harvey isn't going to live forever. He thinks of this in the same way that kids do when they start to realize that their parents won't be with them forever. That void in them starts to form, and they prepare for it to stay empty. - Jason will routinely help out Harvey during depressive episodes by doing menial things that Harvey is too exhausted to do i.e. clearing out the ashtrays when they're full of butts, always keeping a spare pack of ibuprofen on him just in case, hiding drugs etc. (and he's a Drug Lord, so he knows exactly how to do that efficiently). - Harvey wishes Jason would call him 'dad'. Even just once. - Jason wants to do 'normal' things sometimes, rather than the usual crime shtick (their jobs, essentially, which is what their dynamic revolves around). Normal, boring things rather than cigarette breaks, like watching TV together, maybe going to the cinema etc. Harvey would like to have public outings with him too, but refuses. Everyone knows who he is. Jason can sort of get away with appearing normally in public. Harvey can't. And Harvey hates himself for it. - Sometimes Jason will accidentally call Harvey 'Bruce' during PTSD episodes. - Although they very rarely, if ever, hug or come into physical contact with each other, Jason finds the scent of Harvey extremely comforting in those moments they do hug because it's consistent: he always smells like tobacco, bourbon and expensive, heavy aftershave. Think of it as a child finding comfort in holding and taking in every sense of their parent's clothes after they've passed. - That kid is not your son. You're right. He's OUR son. He wants you gone, he sticks around cuz' it's useful. If it makes him happy. - Harvey will joke about killing Jason a second time, and about how fitting it would be to kill him in his second life, but he dreads there ever being a night where an outing may go wrong and he has to be the one to mourn over his second death. - Jason wishes Harvey was happy. - Harvey wishes Jason was happy.

#asks #answered #harvey dent #jason todd #two-dads au #angst #tw: mental health #tw: drug addiction #tw: self harm #tw: child abuse mention

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grapejuicestyless · 1 year ago

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hi, hope you're well! i was wondering if you could write something for conrad based on the song my love mine all mine by mitski? i've been obsessed with it lately and it reminds me off him 💖

My Love, Mine All Mine.

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

summery: Y/n has always gave too much. She always loved, believed too easily. She can’t control what others will do with that, but she can control how she loves.

Sorting through the shiny papers, the corners cut into my skin with each photo I crumpled up, tossing it into the shadows. Each memory ingrained forever on a film that would only taunt me with the past.

I hate the way the sun shined through the leaves in each one. How the sand looked so soft under our feet, the ocean bluer than any summer sky could every paint it now. I am reminded of how vibrant the world became with him in my life, when he was mine.

I say that he was mine loosely. I am unsure if I even have the ability to own something so pretty, so precious. If I ever even did. I remember the way my hands would run through his salty curls after a beach day. How he would hold me extra tight, we’d only bring one towel to share. His lap was soft, shorts scrunched up and dripping still.

I think of his lips on mine. How perfectly they fit on mine. I remember how desperate each kiss was. Not once had he ever made it seem like if it were to go no further we would cease to exist, but he was feverish enough with each lick into my mouth where I knew no matter what, he would never be satisfied. He always wanted more, more, more. How foolish of me to believe it was because he could simply not get enough of me, not because I was not enough.

He was kind, showing me affection in ways he swore would only ever be for me. He decorated his walls with love letters and Polaroids of us, of me. He had stacks of our adventures in an old shoebox under his bed for when I was away and he was missing me. He reminded me everyday how much he adored me. Counting down the seconds until he could hold me in his arms. He promised me it was a feeling that nobody else could ever give him. A heart rush that only ever came over him when my name was involved.

So why does he look at her that way? Why must his eyes carry the same shimmer of lust in them that he once held for me? I see the way his hands grip at her hips, her thighs. It’s animalistic in a way, primal. He wants her, needs her. He’s hers.

I remember the night I discovered their secret. My lover and my sister hand in hand one late June night. I stood still on the grass watching over them. My tears came out dry. I couldn’t even try and sob, let myself break. With his leaving just months ago, I’d already rung myself dry of any tears I had left.

It’s funny how something that once made you feel special can make you feel so sick so suddenly. What once gave me a reason for my living killed me so suddenly.

I knew I was always destined to die, to burn out and disappear. I never imagined how it would’ve happened at the hands of the two I trusted the most in my life. Looking up at the moon that night, I prayed to forget, to heal so suddenly. Rid me of the ache in my heart and replace it with a cold emptiness.

He holds her while she sits in my spot on the couch. She laughs at the jokes I told him that now spew from his lips. Her hands find home in his hair and the towel we once shared as become theirs. It’s all reused, it’s the same. He makes her feel special, wanted, lusted after. He’s a damn good actor, he fools the whole damn world with his cruel games.

Now I know better than anyone that when calling him mine, I must use it loosely. At some time, he might have been. The photos I tear up in my room are only proof of our years spent together. Two summers spent doting on each other. He was with me, but could I call him mine? If he left so easily, did he ever even need me? Want me?

I hold the final photo in my hands, the moon shines down on us. We’re only young in the photograph. His cheek is pressed to mine, our smiles touch. We look so free, so happy. I feel guilty if I were to rip it up when it still feels so happy.

Grabbing a pin from the bedside table, I poke it into the wall beside my mountains of other places and people I’ve seen. It sticks out, like it’s been highlighted in bright red. It stings to look at, but it reminds me of a better time, a time when I believed I had the ability to have good things.

Now I know, nothing in this world belongs to me. Not my baby, not my sister’s loyalty. Not my mother, not my brother. I have no control over anything. Yet, each time I allow myself to believe that I do. That I mean something. I pay a price for the immaturity of my heart. I act a fool over the smallest affections, the most discrete love. And I watch as each time it is taken away, leaving me with a heavy chest and a heart far too full for my body. Nothing in this world is mine for free. Nothing in this world belongs to me but my love, mine all mine.

#tsitp conrad #conrad x reader #conrad fisher angst #conrad fisher #conrad x you #conrad fisher x reader #team conrad #conrad fisher fluff #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher x y/n #belly x conrad #conrad

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 months ago

Text

Dirty Work 50

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: 50 chapters?!

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You don't sleep, you just lay in an achy stupour. The sun limns the door as Loki's shadow darkens beneath it. He sat there all night, you could hear him, leaning against it, sighing, sometimes pleading for you to come out.

He groans as the door shifts with him. He exhales and you hear some cracking as he moves. He must be just as stiff as you.

“Pet,” he taps on the wood, “are you over your tantrum?”

His words sting. He speaks to you like a child. You wish he'd leave you alone, let you out, just disappear!

He stands with another long groan and you feel him leaning on the door. He jiggles the handle then hits the wood in frustration. He hisses. Good, you hope it hurts.

Tears spring as you feel guilty just as quickly as that spiteful thought rose. You don't want to hurt anyone. You never have. You just want to be.

“You cannot lock me out forever. I must clean up,” he demands.

You don't argue. You don't mention he has another bathroom. Two even. You don't have the energy.

“Must you persist in this stubbornness?” He snaps.

All he ever has for you is criticism. Just like your father. And you're just the same useless girl.

You don’t answer. You get up, keeping your back to the door. You tell him over and over to leave you alone. It doesn’t work. So you’ll just ignore him.

You go to the tub and crank on the faucet, the water splashing down loudly as you flinch as the sudden gush. You hear a thump on the door but focus on testing the temperature of the water with your fingers. You don’t listen to see if he goes, to you he’s just not there.

You strip off the camisole nightie and step into the tub before it fills. You lay in the burgeoning depths as it slowly rises over you. Goosebumps rise on your body yet the water offers little warmth for you. Even as it steams up to your shoulders.

You sit forward to twist off the tap and lay back with a sigh. You wet your hands and drag them over your forehead, the water trickling down to dampen the bandage across your nose. You don’t know what you’re doing or what to do. You never really did have much of a plan. Life was always just day to day. Survival.

Your lashes close as dampness lingers on them, fueled by a new flow from within. Your tears trickle out and you sniffle. Your mind wanders to a woman you never knew.

Was this what it was like for her? Confusing? Scary? Or did she love your father? Was he different when it was only her?

How can you even begin to know her when you don’t even know yourself? You are not your mother’s daughter. You are no one’s. You are no one.

You don’t languish long in the tub. You drain it and sit shivering on the toilet lid, wrapped in a thick cotton towel. You stare at your hands and think but you’re empty. You can’t live inside your mind, just like you can’t live inside this room.

You stand up and storm towards the door. You stop short and gulp. You won’t let him lock you up. Not any longer. Maybe your mother was a brave woman and maybe you can be too.

You flip back the lock and pull the door open. The bedroom is empty. He’s gone. You deflate. Just as you found a semblance of courage.

You cross to the other door. The handle won’t turn. You expect as much, just like you should’ve expected him to leave before he could hear you.

You back up and peer around. Your eyes narrow on the window and you tilt your head. You can go too.

You rush over to the closet and push the door open. You search through the hanging garments clumsily, hangers whining on the bar. You pull down a plain black blouse and equally simple pants. You dress as you peek over and over at the door. You don’t have shoes but you don’t care. You double up socks and go to the window.

What do you even care about shoes? You don’t have anything.

You hook your fingers into the notches along the bottom of the window and lift. It doesn’t budge. You whimper as your knuckles ache from the effort. You pout at the glass, contemplating the best way to shatter it. Your gaze wanders up to the latch at the top. Oh, it’s locked!

You slide the lock back and try again. It opens. You can barely believe it. A way out, but what comes after. You don’t have to think of that now.

You poke your head out and peek around the green lawn. The birds tweet and the trees sway with the breeze. You stick your arms out next and rest your stomach against the sill. You lift one knee and haul yourself over the ledge, dragging your other leg out awkwardly.

The roof is steep and offers little traction. As you manage to crawl onto the slope, your head spins from the drop just below the eaves. Don’t look down, that’s the first rule right. You search for a safer descent than the vision of yourself plummeting to the ground.

Just along the far side of the house, just at the corner, the ivy lines a faded trellis. You can try to ladder down on that and if not, you’ll turn back and act like nothing happened at all. No, there’s no going back. Just go.

You move carefully, turning to face the house. Your fingers grip beneath the bricks as you place your feet against the shingles, little grip through the socks. That was a bad idea.

As you inch along, flush to the roof, wriggling bit by bit, you hear the low hum of an engine. You don’t think much of it, it’s probably just a passerby. You focus on your own flight. You won’t have a car, just your feet. How far can you get?

The sudden ring of the gate frightens you. You jerk and nearly lose your bearing. You whimper and slide down to the eaves. The metal trough is tenuous as best as you feel your weight testing the bolts. Your heart pounds in your ears.

The bell rings again but you don’t let it faze you again. You’re nearly there, just a little further.

“What on earth–” Loki’s voice makes you flinch.

The eaves creak and tremble under you as you curl your fingers over the shingles. You glance over fearfully, surprised by your discovery and all too aware of your treacherous escape. Loki’s nostrils flare as he glares out the window at you.

“Get back here! Are you mad, you’re going to get–”

The gate bell once more pierces the air and a sudden crack sounds from behind you. You slip down the shingles with a yelp, grasping at the roof as your feet meet only air. Your catch yourself on the edge, just barely, and whine as you dangle over the grass.

“Gods!” Loki blusters as you hang perilously.

Your heartbeat blocks out the noises all around you. The birds’ songs fade and the rippling leaves quiet. It’s only you and the horrid drop below. Don’t look down, you repeat. You’ve seen the movies, that’s the worst mistake you can make.

“Pet, don’t panic,” Loki clambers down the front steps as he calls to you, “just hang on. I have you, darling.”

You squeak as your arms burn and your fingers throb. You’re not that strong. You don’t think you can hold yourself. You hear him running as a car door shuts.

“Hello?” Frigga’s voice carries over the lawn, “is everything alr–” She gasps, “oh, dear, what is going on? Loki, let me in.”

“Mother, one thing at a time,” Loki’s voice fades away as you hear him running.

“Oh my,” Frigga remarks, “dear, you just want to hold on. Try not to move too much, you’ll lose your grip.”

You close your eyes and focus on just that. Her advice is little help but you don’t even have the ability to tell her that. You’re terrified and weak. You feel your fingers about to give. You wrestle with your own mind, it would be easier to just let go and let what happens happen.

“Here, here,” Loki hollers as a metal rattle accompanies him.

Your eyes stay sealed as you fear even a glimpse of your ground. You whimper and whine, eyes once more wet and leaking. Something hits the roof not far from you and you hear a strange tempo, steady but harried. A hand closes around your wrist.

“He’s got you, honey,” Frigga shouts from the gate.

You don’t react. Loki grunts and his arm wraps around your back. You let your eyes open just a crack and look over at him. He urges you to him as he leans over the side of a ladder.

“Get your foot here,” he directs you to the rung above his own feet, “come, darling, come, I’ve got you.”

You follow his direction. Your adrenaline swells over and leaves you hollow. He gets you onto the ladder, just in front of him, and he takes a step down. You cling to the rungs as he continues until he’s stood on the grass.

“Go on, I’ve got a hold on the ladder,” he assures you.

You push your foot back and shakily dip it down. You put it on the next step before you dare to move the other. Your descent is slow and shaky. He helps you onto solid ground with his hands on your hips.

As you pull away and face him, you find his expression pinched. You push your lips out and mop up your tears, “I’m sorry, I–”

“Not now, I must deal with my mother first,” he hisses.

You wince and nod, pressing your tight fists to your cheeks. He gives you a long look and he rolls his shoulders. “Straighten yourself up, pet. Do you want her to see you in such a state?”

You shake your head and heave. He spins on his heel and marches away. You swipe away the last of your tears and swallow your sobs. You follow him, jittering as your legs move at a staggered pace. It’s almost as if they aren’t your own.

“Mother, you weren’t invited,” Loki accuses, “and we are not currently receiving guests.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. What is going on here? Why was she hanging from the roof like a cat on a clothesline, Loki?”

“It is my concern, I don’t need you sticking your nose in–”

“Don’t speak to me as such, I am your mother,” her tone sharpens as you wobble towards them, “now you let me in, that poor thing must be frightened and you’re not even comforting her.”

“She is not yours to worry about,” he rebuffs.

“Nonsense, you left so fast, you didn’t let us the chance–”

“Go,” he snarls.

“Loki,” you babble as your legs fold, your sight splotchy and off kilter. As you crumble into the gravel he turns. He rushes towards you as you hold yourself up on your hands, slumping over the drive.

“Pet, it’s alright, I’ve got you,” he hooks his arm around you, “you should go inside.”

“Please… I don’t feel good,” you utter.

“Let me in, son,” Frigga demands urgently, “I can help her.”

“Just like you helped her before–”

“You know we had no idea,” she barks, more viciously than you could ever imagine her sounding.

“Loki, please,” you lean into him and tilt your head up, it lolls dangerously on your neck, “please, let her in.”

He considers you, his features drawn but no longer in anger. You see the fear he’s been holding onto. You reach to touch his shoulder and wilt into him.

“Please, I’ll stay,” you sniffle, “if you let her in. I won’t try to run again.”

He sucks in a breath and looks over his shoulder. He huffs and turns back to you. He scoops you off the ground and stands with a grunt.

“Mother, I trust you can wait until I get her somewhere safe?”

“Not long or I shall knock this gate down,” she sneers, “but perhaps I’ll let him take the wheel. Your father won’t hesitate.”

“Father…” Loki echoes.

“Oh, he’s here too, I told him to stay in the car thinking I might talk some sense into you,” she bites out, “imagine if I told him what I’ve walked up upon.”

“Let me get her inside,” Loki says tersely.

He carries you towards the house. You drone and sink into his arms. You don’t know what you were thinking. You don’t know what came over you. You need sleep, your temples are like drums; boom, boom, boom.

“I’m tired,” your murmur.

“I know, pet, I know,” he brings you up the steps and through the front door. As he comes to the stairs, you reach out and grab the banister, latching on with all your strength. He stops.

“Please, don’t,” you bat your eyes and pout at him, a glisten in your vision, “don’t lock me away or I’ll jump next time.”

He waves and his throat tightens, “don’t talk like that.”

“It’s the truth,” you eke out. “I only… I only ever wanted to see the garden, you know?”

He lowers his eyes guiltily and frowns. He backs away from the stairs and instead, carries you into the den. He lays you on the sofa and puts a pillow behind your head. You relax, happy to at least be out of the room. Still, your prison remains.

“We will talk later but first, my parents,” he strokes your forehead before he stands straight.

“I could make tea,” you offer and try to sit up.

“You will not move,” he points a long finger at you, “not one inch. Do you want tea?”

You look at him. Is he really asking?

“Yes,” you squeak.

He nods, “very well, you will have tea. Stay,” he wags his finger again, “first, I will fetch my mother and father, then tea.”

You try to smile, “thank you.”

“Hm, curse the hour,” he sneers under his breath, “I could do with something a bit stronger.”

He leaves you with that remark, striding out rigidly as his fingers twiddle at his side. You feel the same dread as him about your guest. You’re in no state to receive them, and in less to be reminded of the last time you met.

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