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edenesth · 9 months

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The Captain's Favourite

Pairing: captain!Hongjoong x doctor!reader

Word Count: 1.1k

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Struggling to steady your laboured breath, you pressed a trembling hand against the stab wound beneath your chest. Blinking rapidly, you attempted to regain clarity in your vision. From what you could discern, it seemed like the injury might not involve a vital organ, offering a glimmer of reassurance.

However, the stark reality hit hard – you were the sole medical professional on board.

You were always the one attending to the health of your fellow crewmates and never the one in need of medical attention. That all changed abruptly during the unexpected ambush launched by a rival pirate crew.

They strategically targeted a crucial member of the crew before escalating the assault further. The rationale was clear – if the ship's only medical personnel was incapacitated, who would attend to the wounded? Save for the captain, you were the next most important person on the vessel.

But the enemy was also aware you were so much more than just a doctor, "There she is, Captain Hongjoong's favourite. Get her," were the chilling words that you heard before feeling the sharp pain of a dagger piercing your abdomen.

The duration of the battle became a haze, with moments of consciousness slipping in and out as you observed, through blurred vision, your crewmates fighting back fiercely to defend your ship and all the treasures within.

The fight finally ended when your captain impaled the rival leader directly in the heart. Hongjoong, visibly exhausted, let out a weary exhale as he dropped his sword, "Take him and go, the rest of you. If you don't wish to join him in the afterlife." He commanded.

The rival pirates hastily moved to remove their leader's lifeless form from your ship without having to be told twice. It took no time for Captain Hongjoong to scan the surroundings anxiously, his heart racing as he searched for you.

"Wh-where is she—"

Before he could finish the sentence, he noticed what seemed to be your boots tucked away in a corner, cleverly concealed behind barrels. The enemy had evidently gone to great lengths to ensure you wouldn't be discovered until it was too late.

Without wasting a moment, he sprinted towards you, pushing all the obstacles out of his way with newfound strength fueled by desperation. His eyes widened, feeling his heart lurch at the sight of the red staining your shirt and your pale complexion.

"No, no, no, no, no, don't you dare leave me!" Hongjoong screamed, gently pulling you into his arms, "Hey, look at me. I'm your captain, and I order you not to close your eyes."

However, no amount of commanding could mend your injuries, and he was acutely aware of that fact. Time blurred as he urgently directed his crew to transport you to the nearest town without delay. Losing you was not an option he was willing to entertain.

Drawing on his experience from observing you tend to injured crewmates countless times, the captain applied pressure and bandaged your wound to minimise the bleeding until you could receive proper medical treatment.

Upon arriving at the closest town, you were swiftly taken to a medical facility, where Hongjoong fought to catch his breath as they gently took you from his arms, "Don't worry, we'll take care of her," He gave the medical staff a firm glare, "You better."

The nurse nodded nervously, motioning for him to wait by the available bench. Everyone in the facility recognised him; it was the very place he had taken you away from many years ago. As a woman, you had been denied the chance to prove yourself despite being an apprentice there.

That changed the day Hongjoong arrived, bloodied and in need of help.

With all the doctors unavailable, you, the only trainee present, seized the opportunity to showcase your skills by treating the pirate captain.

While he rested after you tended to his injury, Hongjoong overheard a conversation between you and your superior. Rather than receiving praise for your competent work, you were berated for not adhering to the rules and taking matters into your own hands.

Enraged by what he heard, he proposed taking you in as the crew doctor. Despite being aware of his pirate status, you agreed because no one had recognised and acknowledged your skills the way he did.

As time passed, you'd grown to harbour feelings for one another. Though neither of you openly admitted to them, the entire crew was well aware of the captain's undeniable affection for you. They often wondered when Hongjoong would muster the courage to confess.

You were used to him always watching out for you; he would go to great lengths, even pretending to be unwell just to stay near you. He'd reprimand other crewmates for inconveniencing you with their minor issues; a total hypocrite himself. It was hard for you to not realise the fact that he was clearly favouring you, especially when everyone aboard has been calling you 'the captain's favourite' since day one.

Except he would always be in denial whenever teased about it, despite his actions proving completely otherwise.

Now, waiting anxiously, he regretted not revealing his feelings sooner. The thought of you potentially dying without knowing his love haunted him. Reflecting on missed opportunities, he questioned why he hadn't uttered those three words earlier. What was holding him back? What was he so afraid of?

After what felt like an eternity, he was finally allowed to see you. Entering the room where you rested, he held his breath until relief flooded over him at the sight of your chest rising and falling steadily. He sat beside you, gently holding your hand to his face and pressing his lips against your palm, "Oh, thank god, you're okay."

Tears streamed down his face silently, oblivious to the fact that you'd awakened to his sobs. You smiled weakly, moving your fingers to wipe his wet cheeks, "Who would've thought? The mighty Captain Hongjoong is crying for me."

His head shot up immediately, a tearful chuckle escaping him and he nodded, "That's right. Do you see the power you have over me?" Taking a deep breath, he decided it was now or never, "I love you so much, you know that? You mean the world to me."

You nodded, "I love you too, captain. Thought you'd never admit it."

Leaning in, he kissed your lips softly, "I'll tell you I love you every day now if I have to. And I refuse to let anything like this happen again. You're moving to my quarters at once."

If you thought he was joking, you were mistaken. Things were about to change drastically. Consider yourself promoted from crew doctor to the captain's most valuable treasure, as if you weren't already.

Now that we have Prince San, General Seonghwa, and Captain Hongjoong, I'm still contemplating what other roles to assign to the rest of the members.

Anyway, really hope you're all enjoying these imagines. Thanks for reading, and as always, let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina

#edenesth #ateez crazy form #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #kim hongjoong #ateez hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x you #ateez fic #hongjoong drabble #ateez drabbles #ateez imagines #hongjoong imagines

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holdmytesseract · 2 months

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moodboard by @mochie85 divider by @fictive-sl0th <3

Summary: It's been a long time coming... But now the day for you and Loki to say 'Yes' and enter the bond of marriage has finally arrived. A covenant for eternity.

Chapter Three - Loki's Bachelor Party

Warnings for this Chapter: alcohol, partying, Scott as a stripper – kind of? also fluff

Word Count: 3,6k

a/n: I absolutely love the gif for this. Fight me. 😂

Once again goes the shoutout to @sagitternolunaspace for the Midgardian (pre-) wedding traditions! Thank you! And again a thank you goes out to everyone who helped me along with this chapter!

💍 Chapter Two °☆• Chapter Four 💍

You had been barely swept away from Loki by Natasha, Pepper, Jane and Wanda, when the god returned to the now empty apartment in the tower he shared with you. Once the door fell gently into its hinges behind him, he snapped his fingers; causing his Asgardian armour to melt away from his body - leaving him completely nude.

Loki ran a hand through his untamed raven curls, while he made his way to the bathroom. It was time for a shower. Time to get rid of all the stains which had left the mission on his skin.

The warm water massaged his muscles and helped him relax. It usually always did. The god loved a good, hot, relaxing shower after a mission - and if you'd join him, he loved it even more. If the girls wouldn't have stolen you away for your bachelorette party, Loki would've totally taken you with him, but well...

You had discussed this Midgardian pre-wedding tradition with him already a few weeks ago. It was something you were eager to have - and your friends didn't let this tell them twice, of course. They were more than happy to plan the party for you and surprise you.

As for Loki... The god wasn't sure about it. He understood the concept of this tradition. You had explained it, but he didn't know if he should like it or not. Alcohol, silly costumes - or well, T-Shirts and Strippers in the most cases? Tendencies to no. Hence, Loki didn't even know if his oaf of a brother would think so far to prepare something for him and he was convinced that the other male Avengers certainly wouldn't do it. Why should they?

Back when Thor married, he didn't have a bachelor party, but only because he did not know of such a tradition. When you gathered up Jane for her party, it was already too late - given the fact that you all were on Asgard at that moment in time. So, no Stark or Rogers who could saunter through the golden palace doors and pick up Thor for his turn.

Loki laughed to himself. As if Roger would ever do that... He would have to remove the stick up his ass first.

With a sigh, the god turned off the tab, reached for his towel and stepped out of the shower. Thick, hot steam had gathered inside the room; fogging up the mirror. Loki dried himself, went through his after shower routine and lastly put on fresh underwear. Then he cleaned everything up with his seidr and left the bathroom.

His next destination was the bedroom he shared with you, in order to get dressed - preferably casual. In the closet, the god found his favourite grey sweatpants (What a shame it was that you couldn't be here right now and admire the things this specific kind of trousers did to him.) and a loose black t-shirt - perfect for a lonely and lazy afternoon, evening and unfortunately night.

Loki then paid the little shelf in the living room a visit, which was stuffed to the brim with books. The chosen one was a old Norse romance - one of your favourites. Book in hand, the god made himself comfortable on the sofa; ready to get lost in a fictional world.

Unfortunately, he didn't quite get that far...

Barely ten minutes in, a loud knock sounded from the main door. Loki's eyes lifted. Another knock - followed by further knocks. "Oh for the Norns sake..." The god cursed; laid the novel aside and stood up. It knocked again. "I'm on my way!" He grumbled annoyed and at last opened the door for the impatient visitor - and once he did, his eyes almost popped out of his head; jaw slacking.

It was none other than his oaf of a brother, of course.

Thor had the brightest smile on his face which must be physical possible. Nothing very unusual. It was the dress up that shocked Loki... His brother wore black leather trousers and a emerald green t-shirt, on which stood in big golden letters: Loki's Bachelor Party. And the worst was the huge, very unfortunate taken picture of himself, which was printed on the t-shirt as well.

He couldn't be serious right now...

"Thor... What in Odin's name is that?" The blond god giggled and proudly displayed the t-shirt. "Do you like it, brother? I created it myself!" He boasted, but added seconds later in a whisper after Loki gave him a disbelieving glance: "Alright, alright... Jane helped me quite a bit, but... Shhhh. Don't tell the others." "Others?" The younger man asked; blinking.

Thor started to smirk again. "Of course, brother! We are not celebrating your bachelor party alone - if that is what you think." The black haired god looked once more incredulously at his older brother. "Bachelor party?"

Thor sighed and shook his head. "For somebody so utterly witty and clever, you are really stupid sometimes." The blond gestured towards his green t-shirt again, "You did see what it reads, brother, didn't you? 'Loki's Bachelor Party'!" before he reached inside his seemingly endless leather pocket and pulled out another emerald green t-shirt. "Now let's go, brother! Get changed! It's time to celebrate!" Thor threw the t-shirt at Loki, who caught it effortlessly.

"T-Shirt, black leather trousers and black boots. It's the, uh, dress code - like the Midgardians say. Five minutes, then you shall meet us outside. You will be awaited." Loki wanted to say something - anything, in order to protest, display his discomfort and especially ask his brother if he had lost his last remaining braincells, but before he could, Thor had already walked away.

Loki sighed as he closed the door shut; pinching the bridge of his nose. He clearly didn't want to do this. He refused to do this. After all, who knew who his brother had invited to this ridiculous Midgardian pre-wedding tradition party? Nobody of the male Avengers liked him that much to spend a great amount of time with him on a party for him.

At least that was what Loki thought.

The god wanted to call his brother; tell him that he would not attend this... bachelor party. He had already picked up his phone; thumb hovering over the green button beside his brother's name.

But then he remembered a conversation he had with you not such a long time ago...

"A what?" The raven haired man asked; eyebrows slanting. You giggled beside him. "A bachelorette party, babe. It's a Midgardian pre-wedding 'tradition'. The female friends of the bride organise a day - or a weekend, where they take her somewhere in order to celebrate the fact she is going to marry. Commonly - I'd say, it is an evening, where they party, have alcohol and mostly book a stripper." "A stripper?!" Loki shouted out; almost horrified. You nodded. "Yeah, it's, uh, I don't know... It's somehow a thing for such partys. After all, they are celebrating the bride's last days or weeks as an unmarried woman..."

"Yes, darling, I think I understood the concept, but... A stripper?" Your fiancè shook his head. "I don't want this. I don't want another man stripping for you."

You kinda saw that coming. You knew Loki was very... territorial when it came to other men. He always had been and you couldn't deny that you loved this about him. You were the only one for him - the only woman he'd ever lay his eyes upon, and it should be the same for you.

"If the girls really do that, I will refuse, okay? I promise, I won't watch that man strip for me." Loki shot you a relieved, almost thankful smile. "I appreciate this a lot, my love."

There was silence for a few moments, as you walked side by side, until... "The same usually goes for the bachelor party as well..." Loki wasn't stupid, of course. He could connect the dots quickly. "Female stripper?" The god asked; swallowing. "Almost, babe... I'm sure you heard of clubs with a lot of stages and poles in it? Seats and sofas where men - and women can sit, have a few drinks and watch half naked - or naked, who knows... Women dancing at those poles?"

Loki knew what you were talking about. He had been quite a few years on Midgard now; having definitely heard of such... establishments. Before he met you, such a thought would've peaked his interest, without a doubt. Beautiful ladies dancing at poles and showing off their curves? Which man wouldn't be intrigued? By the Norns, he would've probably spent various nights there already, if he was still the same god he was years ago - but he wasn't. Meanwhile, the thought of such clubs was everything but a turn on. It disgusted him, because if he went there, he would disrespect you. Yes, Loki would probably go as far and say he would cheat on you - and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

Your fiancè scrunched his nose. "Love, alone the mere thought of such an establishment disgusts me. I am yours - and only yours. I don't want to see other half naked women dancing for me. They don't deserve my attention. I swear to you, Y/N, I won't ever set one foot in such a club. Not under any circumstances. Never." You blinked; were quite a bit... shocked? Sure, you never discussed that topic, because there hadn't been a reason, but... All your ex-boyfriends would've salivated at the mere mention of such clubs...

"You seem surprised, my love?" You blinked again. "I-I, no, I... It's not that, babe. I'd rather say I'm shocked about the fact that all my ex-boyfriends wouldn't have said no to such a club night and you..." Loki raised an eyebrow at you; a look of disgust on his face. "Pft..." He scoffed. "Mortal men... They never fail to shock and disgust me. It's almost embarrassing that they still don't know how to cherish, worship and appreciate a woman and the love she gives them."

You couldn't help but smile; feeling pure love pumping through your veins for the raven haired god walking beside you. You reached for Loki's hand; slipped your fingers through his and gave them a squeeze. "Have I already told you today how much I love you?" Your fiancè chuckled. "Yes, darling. I believe about five times." You shook your head. "That's not enough... I love you, Loki, with all my heart."

The god stopped abruptly in his tracks and reeled you in, causing you to squeak up and crash against his muscular chest. A strong hand kept you from rebounding and pinned your body against his. "I love you even more, my darling," Loki whispered and caught your lips in a feverish kiss; not caring the slightest that you two were actually on a walk - in public.

"Let's say the unthinkable happens and Thor organises a bachelor party for me... What am I going to do? I don't think I'm the right person for such things - and not really best friends with the other... men in this compound." You smiled gently up at Loki; once again giving him a loving squeeze. "I know what you mean, babe, but... If the boys, or just Thor - whoever throws a bachelor party just for you, I'd say it's a huge gesture. Give them a chance, please? See how it goes and then decide."

Give them a chance, please? Your words echoed through the god's head on repeat. He swallowed hard; pondering what to do, but in the end he closed the contacts app on his mobile and placed the little device on the sofa. With long strides, he moved to the bedroom to change his clothes - again.

A look in the mirror told him, that the decision he made was probably already not a wise one. The t-shirt looked... interesting. He didn't really like it, but if he wanted to participate in that game, he had to play by the rules, right?

Running a hand through his raven locks and collecting a few things he'd probably need on this 'party', Loki then closed the main door of your shared apartment behind himself. Taking a deep breath, the god made his way down to the first floor.

The moment the metallic doors slid open, he could already hear voices. His brother, of course; Laing, Banner, Stark... He fought the urge to roll his eyes and stepped out of the elevator.

Tony was the first to notice him. "Reindeer Games! There you are!" All eyes were on Loki now. "Man, I honestly didn't think he'd come...," added Bruce in a whisper, whereas Thor and Scott smiled brightly. "But my brother did come!" Thor boomed and made his way over to him; slamming his meaty hand on his left shoulder blade; causing Loki to grimace in slight pain. "He truly is here!" The blond continued. "No illusions!" "And he's wearing the t-shirt! Suits you, bro!" Scott smiled like a little boy in the candy store.

"Well, yes," Loki answered and adjusted the t-shirt - which everybody else wore as well; trying to stay cool. "Admittedly, I pondered to just call my brother and tell him I rather prefer to read, but... I thought I give this-" He gestured around. "-a chance."

Thor patted his shoulder once more. "Wise decision, brother. Now let us go. A merry time is awaiting us!" "Poetically put, Point Break." Stark commented; passing the two Asgardians by. The other two men followed. Loki watched them leave the building through the main doors, where already an all black bus - yes, bus, waited.

The god grimaced. He could've relinquished the sight of Tony Stark in black leather trousers.

Loki found himself in a so-called 'party bus' again. Like the name already said, it wasn't a normal vehicle with seats. The interior looked more like a disco than a bus... Loud music, tons of alcohol and bright lights. The god didn't really like it at first; was still reluctant and kind of mistrustful. He still couldn't believe that this - whatever it was or going to be, was for him. For his bachelor party.

While the others were already in party mode and having fun, Loki sat in a corner with a drink in his hand; observing - until Thor made his way over to him.

"Brother!" The blond shouted through the music. "Do you like our surprise?" Loki hesitatingly shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, I-" He got interrupted by Tony, suddenly shouting at the two Asgardians through the music as well. "Point Break, Reindeer Games, c'mon! We arrived!" And with those words the music stopped abruptly, just like the bus.

Loki frowned. "Arrived? Where?" Thor just grinned at him; the conversation he just started already forgotten and gripped his arm; pulling the younger god to his feet. "Let yourself be surprised, brother, but I can assure that you will like it."

And Thor should be proven right...

The building before the group of men stood now, wasn't just a building... It was huge and filled with dozens of different parcours; built for a game called Lasertag. Tony didn't need to explain much, since the game itself was kind of self-explanatory.

"Let's go, dudes!" Scott chirped like a little school boy; was totally excited and already made his way to the entrance. The others followed.

About twenty minutes later, after they all got a instruction and their attire, the Avengers decided which parcour to play first. Loki looked around. "Can we just choose anyone we like? I mean, what about the other people here?" The group started to laugh; giving the fact that the usually so attentive god didn't notice it yet.

"There are no other people here, today, Loki..." Bruce started to explain. "Tony rented the whole thing for us."

The god blinked. "The... whole thing?" He asked; quoting Banner. They all nodded. "Yes, of course the whole thing. Unless it wouldn't be fun." Stark shrugged his shoulders; looking around.

Loki blinked again. He was confused - but probably in the best way possible. "Why? Why would you all agree to celebrate this Midgardian tradition with me? For me?" The four other men exchanged a few looks, before Tony took a step closer to the tall, dark god; awkwardly placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Because you're one of us, Reindeer Games. You're an Avenger - even if we don't always get along and approve of this, but you are." Bruce nodded; agreed with the billionaire. "Tony's right. You earned your place. You proved us and the world wrong. You can be good - when you want." Scott nodded approvingly. "Yeah, man."

Loki swallowed hard. To hear such words had always seemed to be in far distance for him. He would've never... never anticipated or expected that the team would accept him one day. He thought they'd see forever the psychotic, maniacal killer they always had seen in him... Apparently not anymore...

"I..." Again swallowed Loki hard. "I don't know what to say, except... Thank you. Truly. I mean it."

The mood was on the verge of getting very emotional. But before that could happen, Tony eased the situation up. "Yeah, well, your soon-to-be wife played a huge roll in this all, but don't get too comfortable. You are still a pain in the ass."

Loki just smirked; gave the billionaire his best, mischievous smoulder. "Vice versa."

It was already pitch dark outside, when the small group of men emerged from the Lasertag 'arena' again; laughing and smiling. Loki would've never thought that he could have so much fun with Thor, Bruce, Scott and especially Tony in his 'free time'. Perhaps you could blame it on the small amount of alcohol running through their veins, but who knew?

"I did not know that this... Midgardian game was going to be so much fun!" Thor boomed; walking besides Loki and Tony. "I told you, Point Break, haven't I? Just like I said that your drama queen of a brother was going to like it." "Indeed, Stark." "You do know that I can hear you?" Loki threw in; causing them to snicker - almost like little school girls. The raven haired god just rolled his eyes in mock offence.

The group made their way towards the party bus again. Happy already waited in front of the big, black vehicle for them to return. Of course, Tony had hired him as a driver.

Only now did Loki realise, that Happy was dressed in the same clothes as the rest of the men; paired with black sunglasses.

"Happy! Are we ready to go?" The friendly bodyguard nodded; adjusting his glasses. "Sure, Mr. Stark. The bachelor party is ready to roll on." "What are waiting for then?! Let's go, Reindeer Games! Time to really celebrate the fact that someone is willing to marry you."

Loki wanted to give a snarky response, but a clap on his back from Thor caused all the air to escape his lungs and the words to die in his throat. "Come, brother! Stark is right!" Grumbling under his breath, the god followed the others inside the bus.

It took him a little while to get comfortable and especially to just let go and - he repeated your words in his head... Give this a chance.

And he did.

The music was loud; echoing through the whole bus. Alcohol was flowing and Scott had already reached the level where he was awkwardly dancing around a pole in the middle of the bus - much to everyone else's entertainment. One thing was sure, though... Loki had fun, was definitely a bit tipsy, but also the most sober one. He hadn't had a single break yet from the loud, deafening, colourful and amusing chaos around him. Well, he went outside for a moment to call you, since he saw that you tried to call him, but that was hours ago and didn't really count as a break, did it?

A look on his mobile told him that it was already way past midnight. Usually, at this time, the god laid curled up in bed with you, but you weren't here and the alcohol and adrenaline in his bloodstream kept him wide awake.

"Hey! Guys, guys, guys!" Tony suddenly turned down the music; causing all eyes to land on him. "I have 'n idea." He prompted; swaggering over to the others. "What 'bout we ask Happy to take us to a strip club, huh?" The other three men were way too drunk to think straight and so they all agreed - except Loki.

The god shook his head. "Stark, no." Tony raised an eyebrow; looking at the raven haired man in disbelief. "Sorry, princess, I think I misheard ya. Did you say no?" "Yes. I won't go to a strip club with you." Tony started to pout like a toddler. "But why not? Lots of pretty ladies, Reindeer Games! They're gonna be aaaall over you!" Loki swallowed the anger bubbling up inside him. "That may be true, yes, but I don't want that. Y/N is the only woman for me. I don't want or need others."

Tony groaned and theatrically steadied himself on Bruce's shoulder; almost causing the doctor to tip over. "You're such a party pooper..." The billionaire shook his head, before pressing a button on his watch. "Happy, escort us to the next bar. Not strip club - unfortunately." Then he turned to Scott. "I s'ppose your performance has to be enough. Show us what ya got, Thumbelina." Lang didn't let himself tell that twice and Thor turned up the music again.

The party went on till the first rays of sunshine kissed the summer sky and the amount of alcohol coursing through the men's veins catapulted them into a deep slumber.

Loki awoke late afternoon that day, with a thundering headache and Scott cuddled up against him. The god groaned and grimaced. It had been definitely a night to remember.

Tags: @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jaidenhawke @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @multifandom-worlds @jennyggggrrr @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @herdetectivetheorist @hisredheadedgoddess28 @chennqingg @princess-ofthe-pages @km-ffluv @brokenpoetliz @huntedmusicgardenn @lokiforever @stupidthoughtsinwriting @loz-3 @jaguarthecat @icytrickster17 @eleniblue @yourfriendlyslytherinhc @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @kimanne723 @lou12346789 @smolvenger @lokisrealpurpous @isaidoop @lokisgoodgirl @aagn360 @cakesandtom @alexakeyloveloki @glitchquake (continuing in the comments!)

#the baby fever wedding #the baby fever au #loki x reader #loki #loki laufeyson #loki x female reader #loki fanfiction #loki x you #tom hiddleston x reader #loki fluff #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson x reader #loki smut #loki x reader smut #marvel loki #loki marvel #mcu loki

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neewtmas · 1 year

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A Bouquet Of Tulips

A/N: This was fun to write! I used this request as an opportunity to write a reader that is not working for Lockwood & Co because it's rare that that is fitting, but I thought here it did and it's a nice change. This is also written from Lockwood's POV.

@ the anon who requested, I'm not sure if this was what you're looking for, but I hope you like it :) everyone enjoy <3

pairing: anthony lockwood x fem!reader

wordcount: 2.2k

request: Hey, I'd like to request a lockwood x reader where they're going on their first date together and there's just loads of fluff - by anon

taglist: @maraschinomerry @marinalor @oblivious-idiot @lockwood-lover @givemea-dam-break (if you wanna be added or removed, just send an ask :))

masterlist

“One of you is going, I don’t care if you want to or not”, George said and Lucy immediately jumped up from her seat at the table, chair scraping over the floor. “I need to do - uhm… laundry. Looks like it’s your turn, Lockwood!” She didn’t wait for his response, but instead rushed over to the staircase that led to the basement. "Have fun you two", she said sweetly and gave them a wave before swiftly descending the stairs.

Lockwood ran his fingers through his hair, groaning. "Last time she did the laundry she dyed all my shirts pink because she threw in some red socks! She shouldn't even be allowed near the washing machine. Why can't she go with you?"

George shrugged, entirely unfazed by Lockwood's desperation. "Get in a fistfight over who's going for all I care. But not now, we're leaving in ten minutes."

Begrudgingly, Lockwood followed George out the door a few minutes later. Their walk to the archives was quiet, mostly because Lockwood was still sulking over the fact that Lucy got to stay back with the excuse of doing laundry - which she was not going to do, he was sure of it.

The sky was a monotonous grey, and together with the chilly breeze that whirled dried-up leaves over the concrete sidewalk, it did nothing to raise Lockwood's mood.

They entered the building together, and immediately the hushed atmosphere weighed on Lockwood like a heavy blanket around his shoulders. Contrary to George, who was in his element here, Lockwood was glad about every minute he did not have to spend in the library.

He noticed a little stain on the sleeve of his coat and tried to scratch it off while following George as he walked through the foyer, not paying any attention to his surroundings. A voice called George's name and Lockwood looked up to see him waving to someone. As he followed George's gaze he spotted a girl sitting behind the front desk, waving as well. As her eyes met his, her smile widened briefly before she returned her focus to the computer screen beside her.

Lockwood stood for a moment, staring at her as she scrunched her eyebrows in focus, leaning closer to the screen when he heard George call his name. He was already at the foot of the stairs, motioning him towards him impatiently and Lockwood hurried through the foyer after throwing one last glance in the girls' direction.

The rest of the afternoon George sent him back and forth through the long aisles between the bookshelves with a piece of paper on which he had scribbled different book titles and instructions on how to find them. Sometimes, those instructions would lead him past the area from where a glance down into the foyer was possible, and every time he walked past, he would try and catch a glimpse of the girl sitting at the desk below.

After George decided they had gathered sufficient information, they packed up, Lockwood now in a much better mood than a few hours ago. He almost skipped down the stairs towards the foyer, but his mood immediately got a damper when they walked past the front desk and instead of the girl, the seat was now occupied by an elderly man. He had grey hair and wore gigantic glasses, and just like the girl, he greeted George by name and with a kind smile.

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"You seem to know the people at the front desk pretty well", Lockwood said as they walked down the sidewalk a few minutes later. George shrugged. "I mean, I come here often. You're bound to get talking at one point. The guy in there just now is really into discussing The Problem's history, we've been talking a lot."

"Sounds great. And the girl?", Lockwood asked, not interested in George's conversation about ghosts with a man who probably wasn't that far from turning into a ghost himself.

"Oh, that's (name). She's nice. Sometimes, when she's on her lunch break, she helps me with research for our cases."

"Oh." Lockwood grimaced. He didn't expect George to be that close to her. "You never told us about her."

George raised his eyebrows. "What is there to tell?"

"I don't know? Maybe that you got a secret girlfriend at the archives that helps you with your research?" The words came out much sharper than he intended, and George immediately stopped walking. "What?"

"I said what I said." Lockwood turned around, crossing his arms defensively. He knew he was acting ridiculous, but for whatever reason the thought of George and (name) leaning over some dusty old book together made him furious.

"What is your problem, Lockwood?", George asked, raising his hands defensively.

Lockwood just turned around wordlessly and continued down the street, not looking to see if George was following him.

Just a few seconds later George was next to him again, slowing down his run to match Lockwood’s speed.

“I might remember her telling me she’s single. You could ask her out”, he said innocently, looking straight ahead and trying to suppress his smirk when Lockwood whipped his head to look at him. “What?”

“I said what I said.”

Lockwood huffed and sped up, hands buried in the pockets of his coat.

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Lockwood was quieter than usual during dinner, not really paying attention to the conversation between Lucy and George and instead absentmindedly ripping up his piece of bread.

"Oh, and you know (name), right?" George said in between spoonfuls of soup.

"Yeah, what's with her? She had a shift today, didn't she?", Lucy replied.

Lockwood looked up immediately. "You know her too?"

Lucy chuckled. "Of course. She sometimes helps us with research on cases."

Lockwood looked back and forth between the two of them, and George had to bite back a laugh at his expression.

"Lockwood's got a crush", he said under his breath, and Lucy turned to Lockwood, wide-eyed. "On (name)?"

"No!"

"Oh please, if I hadn't called you you'd still be standing in the foyer, staring at her. And don't think I missed your disappointment when it was Stanley behind the desk instead of her when we left."

"What? No, I -" Lockwood sputtered and now Lucy was chuckling as well.

"Maybe you should ask her out. But better hurry, or else I might do it first."

"You?!"

Lucy didn't answer immediately and instead examined her nails that she had painted blue that afternoon before shrugging. "Why not? She's really cute. I'm sure you agree."

"You're the worst", Lockwood grumbled as George couldn't hold his laughter in any longer.

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The next few days George and Lucy were teasing Lockwood incessantly, and while it was annoying, he couldn't deny that he might actually have a crush on (name). Which was ridiculous, because he never even talked to the girl. For all he knew, she could be the worst person to ever walk this planet. Then again, George and Lucy only had nice things to say about her, so that was unlikely. And the way she had smiled at him…

It didn't take long for him to decide that he had to do something about it. But it had to happen without his two friends knowing because he didn't need them to make fun of him if she rejected him. Which was likely, since she probably was into well-read guys, someone more like George.

The next day, after an early lunch and confirming that neither George nor Lucy would be at the archives today, he put on his coat and left the house as quietly as possible. On the way to the archives, he passed a small flower shop that he never really noticed before, and he had already almost walked past it when he reconsidered and turned around.

The sweet smell of freshly cut flowers was overwhelming as he pushed open the door, a little bell chiming above him. The shop was even smaller than it looked from the outside, and it was packed with all sorts of flowers and plants. No one was behind the counter, but then he heard rustling and footsteps and from behind a curtain, a woman emerged. Her face lit up with a smile as she saw him.

"How can I help you, dear?", she asked.

"I'm going on a date", Lockwood began but quickly corrected himself. "Or rather, I'd like to go on a date. I thought I could bring her some flowers."

The woman clapped her hands together. "How lovely! More men should think like you." She walked around the counter over to a large and colourful display of all different kinds of flowers. "You know, my husband brought me flowers on our first date as well. What flowers does your girl like?"

"Uhm… I don't know." Lockwood felt like a fool. Should he have prepared better? Maybe he should have talked to her first. Maybe it was a little weird to come onto her like that without ever saying a single word to her.

The woman didn't seem to mind and after a moment, she pulled out a bouquet of tulips in all different colours.

"How about these? Chances are her favourite colour is somewhere in there."

Lockwood didn't have anything to say against that, so a few minutes later he left the shop with the tulips in hand.

The remaining few minutes to his destination he felt uneasy. He wasn't so sure anymore if this was a good idea. But there was no going back now. Before entering, he checked his hair in the reflection of the glass door and made sure his coat was neat before gripping the flowers tightly and stepping inside.

Y/N sat behind the desk, typing away at her computer. His heart skipped a beat as he saw her, and only then did he realise that he hadn't known if she would even be here today. Maybe that meant it was his lucky day. He took a deep breath and straightened up.

He walked up to the desk and suddenly forgot what he wanted to say. She looked up from the screen, a polite smile on her face. "Hello, how can I - Oh, hey!" Her expression changed into one of genuine joy, and Lockwood thought he might faint.

"Hey", he choked out, cursing himself. He always knew what to say, how to charm himself in and out of every possible situation. How was it that the one time he needed his brain to work, it didn't?

"I'm Lockwood."

Her smile widened. "I know. George told me you might come by."

He felt the tips of his ears get hot. God damn it, George.

"What brings you here?", she asked, and without thinking, Lockwood pulled out the flowers from behind him and held them out to her.

"These are for you."

She gasped, and her hand flew to cover her mouth. "For me?" She reached out to take them from him, her fingers brushing over his. She buried her nose in the bouquet, taking in the scent with closed eyes. Lockwood did not take his eyes off her.

"These are so pretty", she finally said, a cute pink blush on her cheeks. "Thank you so much, no one has ever given me flowers", she added timidly.

Lockwood had the urge to tell her how this was a disgrace and how he would give her flowers every day if she wanted, but he held himself back.

She tucked a stray curl of hair behind her ear and Lockwood watched her, wishing it was him doing that. "I'm about to take my lunch break in the park", she said. "Do you maybe wanna join me?"

"Yes", he said immediately.

He waited a few minutes for her to finish her work before they left the building together, and walked to the park.

The conversation was flowing easily, and Lockwood's nervousness dissipated soon. Talking to (name) felt natural and like they had known each other for ages. Every time she laughed at one of his jokes, he couldn't help but smile as well, his heart doing somersaults in his chest.

They sat down in the park beneath the shade of a tree, leaned against its trunk, and (namr) pulled out a box from her bag. "I packed strawberries this morning. We can share?"

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, eating strawberries.

"I saw you a few times with George", (name) suddenly said. "I wanted to talk to you but you always seemed to rather be anywhere else." She smiled shyly at him. "It's almost a little funny how you were so eager to leave every single time."

Lockwood ran his hand through his hair. "I like it more to be in the field, you know? Facing the threats head-on. The library isn't exactly my favourite place to be - though that might have changed today."

He watched as she blushed brightly and averted her eyes. "You're messing with me", she mumbled, but he could tell that she was trying to hide a smile.

"I would never", he chuckled, and she smiled at him before leaning her head against his shoulder. Her hand was resting on her leg, and without thinking, Lockwood moved his hand over hers. For a moment he feared she'd pull away, but she didn't and instead intertwined their fingers.

thanks for reading! feedback is appreciated :)

#anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood & co x reader

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mrskreideprinz · 3 months

Text

| MONSTER |

Pairing: Dottore x Oc!Cecilia

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Dark Content, Oc x Canon, Dottore is probably ooc, Cecilia goes by she/her pronouns, Dottore & segments go by He/Him, Heavy Angst, Camil is a segment oc, Camil is young (around 5 - 6 years old), Cecilia & Camil have a familial bond, Physical Assault, Manhandling, Abuse, Dottore has some serious control issues, Toxic Relationship Dynamics, Lab Accidents, Vandalism (Idk if that needs a tag but just in case), Manipulation, Cecilia has abandonment issues, Cecilia is mentally ill, Angst without a happy ending, 4.7k words.

A/n: This was by far the most stressful fic I’ve ever written but I hope you guys enjoy it. Also please practice proper lab safety guys lmao.

Summary: This is a story of how my oc Cecilia gets her vision <3

Tags: @auphelia @suyacho @themovingcastlez @tighnarly

It was half past midnight when the door opened and an unwelcome figure stood in the doorway. Watching the sad sight in front of him, Dottore frowned. He was not surprised. No, not in the least. He knew this was exactly where he would find Cecilia, sitting with her legs crossed as she happily told Camil another ridiculous story of hers. It had been this way for quite some time. Ever since he pushed Cecilia and the young segment together–a ploy to keep Cecilia out of his way–they had been inseparable. Unfortunately, as happy as the two of them were together, Dottore found himself more than just frustrated with their relationship.

After some time together he noticed that the moments he and Cecilia spent together dwindled, and often her time was spent with Camil. Dottore wasn’t the jealous type, or at least that is the lie he continuously told himself. Seeing how deeply she loved and cared for the boy made him feel a mixture of emotions that he’d rather be rid of. He’d never seen Cecilia be so docile and kind hearted as she was towards Camil. Even Dottore couldn’t deny she looked like the picture perfect mother she’d always craved to be.

He wondered often why she couldn’t be as content with him as she was around Camil. The way she laughed seemed more genuine, her smile wider, and her eyes had a hopeful glint in them. Quite frankly it infuriated him, and the fact that he knew why it enraged him only bothered him more. Every day he’d come into his room only to find Cecilia absolutely enamored with the boy. It needed to stop. He had to put an end to it, now.

He shut the door loudly and watched how Cecilia stopped talking to look up at him innocently—oh, it pissed him off—and noticed how Camil suddenly tensed up.

Dottore walked slowly towards a corner of the room where a mirror and a darkwood dresser stood. “It’s late.”

Cecila scowled at Dottore as his focus remained on undoing the buttons on his shirt. “It’s not that late.” She paused to give Camil a small, comforting squeeze. “Besides, I was almost done telling my story.”

Dottore’s gaze did not move from the mirror, but it did tighten. “Camil doesn’t need his head filled with any more of your silly ideas.”

Cecilia glared at him and held onto Camil tightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dottore removed his stained button up shirt for a cleaner version of a similar shirt. He took another glance into the mirror before sauntering towards Cecilia and Camil, staring them down through the safety of his pointed mask.

“You two have been spending an awful lot of time together.” He said with a strained smile.

Dottore knelt down to their eye level, both Cecilia and Camil on edge. Cecilia could sense something was wrong. Dottore was off, more so than usual.

“Is that a problem?” She asked, still glaring at Dottore.

Cecilia clung to Camil, holding onto his body with an almost iron grip and even going as far as to lean away from Dottore. She may not have been as smart as Dottore, but she was no fool.

“Not at all. It’s merely that Camil has work to do and you’re holding him back.” Dottore explained.

There was a long moment of silence where Cecilia and Dottore stared down at each other while Camil cowered in Cecilia’s arms. He clung to Cecilia almost as much as she did to him. Everything in Cecilia’s body told her to run. Run far, far away until it was just her and Camil, but she resisted. Cecilia knew better than to do something so reckless with Camil, even if she did want so badly to do it.

Slowly, Cecilia released Camil from her arms and allowed him to move as he pleased. Although, he still remained by her side regardless of the freedom he was given.

Dottore placed his hand atop Camil’s head and smiled. “Run along to the lab. Omega is expecting you.” Dottore flashed his pearly teeth in amusement.

Camil’s eyes widened in fear and he struggled onto his feet before he ran off in a panic. Cecilia watched with a wounded heart as Camil ran out the door clumsily, falling before finally getting back onto his feet and sprinting straight out the door. Cecilia wanted to reach out for him, urge him to be more careful, but she knew better than to anger Dottore further.

Cecilia jerked her head to look at Dottore. “What is wrong with you?” She snapped. “Why did you do that?”

Dottore stood up and crossed his arms. “What is it I’ve done exactly?”

Cecilia stood up and gestured to the door with her hands. “That!”

Dottore lifted his head up to look at Cecilia with what she could only assume was a cold expression. “It seems you’ve forgotten not only who but what Camil actually is.”

Cecilia grit her teeth and narrowed her eyes. “Camil’s a lot more than what you’ve created him to be.” She spat.

Dottore clenched one of his fists as he tried to calm himself.

When he’d given the segment as a peace offering to Cecilia he never thought she’d pull the stunts she had. Naming him was one thing, loving him was another, but acting as if Camil was her own was going too far. It was bad enough that the segment was one of his weaker segments. The last thing he needed was Cecilia’s silly little fantasies implanted into his mind.

“You forget yourself, Cecilia. Need I remind you who gave him to you in the first place.” He tilted his head to the side to glance at her.

Cecilia clenched her fists, trying her best not to lose her temper. She hadn’t forgotten, in fact there were times she wished she could. The fear of losing Camil in a second to him scared the shit out of her. The mere idea had kept her up at night on one too many occasions. She’d lay there, eyes trained to the dark ceiling, as every worry slowly started to trickle its way into Cecilia’s mind. She would glance over at Dottore’s sleeping form and wonder for a second if she could get away with taking Camil and leaving. Thankfully, she would quickly correct herself before going any further.

“That’s it!” Cecilia yelled, forcefully putting on her boots.

It’s true that Dottore and Cecilia had never seen eye to eye. Even in the best of times they could be found pointing fingers and chewing each other out. Cecilia was impulsive and immature, while Dottore was calculated and calm. It was a recipe for disaster. When the two had just met things were a lot more peaceful, civil even, but times had changed and bringing Camil into the mix only worsened things.

Dottore grabbed Cecilia’s wrist as she stomped towards the door. “Sit down before you do something reckless.”

Cecilia yanked back her hand and glared at Dottore. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

He let her go but only to trail behind her, watching her closely. It didn’t take long to notice where exactly she was going, and Dottore knew precisely why. If he’d known Cecilia would’ve turned out to be so troublesome he would’ve never entertained her in the first place, but unfortunately this was a lesson he had to learn. It’s true that Dottore did have a soft spot for her at some point, but it was safe to say that place had all but hardened now.

“Stop following me.” Cecilia snapped, picking up the pace as she walked, nearly tripping on her own two feet.

Dottore smiled.

“Throwing a tantrum? How am I not surprised?” He said.

That fucking asshole.

Although his words enraged Cecilia, she couldn’t deny the validity of his statement. It’s true that her rash decisions would not help in the long run, but she couldn’t help it. At least, that is what she told herself for so long. She reassured herself that her harsh attitude was a just reaction. Dottore was clearly up to something and at that moment Cecilia trusted Dottore only as far as she could throw him. She just needed to see Camil, she needed to know that he was okay. That’s it, nothing more.

It didn’t take long for the two of them to reach the double doors to the laboratory. Cecilia swiftly pushed through them without a second thought. Several segments stopped what they were doing to see what all the commotion was about, and upon seeing Cecilia and Dottore they backed away and returned to their work. She scanned the room to search for Camil. It didn’t take long to find what she was looking for. Upon seeing him she quickly rushed to his side and placed a warm hand atop his head.

Cecilia knelt down to meet Camil at eye level, pressing her forehead to his. Cecilia was relieved to see Camil still alive and well. Her mind had come up with rather awful ideas of what had happened to him rather than what was truly reality. She hugged him tightly, ignoring Dottore who was most definitely staring at her. Perhaps, she was too harsh on Dottore. Maybe, she really was too overprotective when it came to Camil, and he was a segment, after all. She couldn’t very well keep him all to herself. She let out a sigh of relief. All was well. Everything was okay.

“Cecilia.” Dottore warned.

Cecilia gave him one last tight squeeze before finally letting go of him. It was in the instant that she let go and watched Camil return to his work that the warning of danger shocked her body, again. She had the urge to take him and make a run for it. Everything was fine, she reassured herself. Nothing and nobody would harm Camil. As long as she was around Camil would remain safe and well.

She had been lost in her own mind when a firm hand ripped her from her sprinting thoughts.

“It’s time to leave, Cecilia. Now.” Dottore demanded.

His grip was like iron, leaving no room for Cecilia to escape him no matter how hard she would try. Cecilia felt many eyes on her, judging her harshly. Even in that moment all Cecilia could think about was Camil and whether he would be okay. She wondered if her actions would doom him. She prayed that he would not be punished for her behavior, but even looking back she hadn’t regretted the way she acted.

Dottore waited till Camil had walked further away to let go of Cecilia. “Get out and stop disrupting my work.”

Cecilia rubbed the area that had been squeezed in order to soothe the pain. She wanted to leave, truly she did, but she couldn’t move her legs. It was as if they were cemented to the ground, refusing to budge even a little. Nothing was wrong, nothing could possibly be wrong. Even as Dottore glared at her, eyes full of fire, she could not move a muscle. In her mind she yelled her reassurances, trying her hardest to convince herself that nothing was truly going to happen to Camil, but no matter what she did she just couldn’t believe the words she was shouting.

She couldn’t pinpoint a reason as to why she was acting the way she had. It was unusual even by Cecilia’s standards. She needed to move and fast. She knew that if she didn’t move, leave the lab quickly, that there would absolutely be punishments for both her and Camil, but no matter what she did she wouldn’t budge. It was as if her body had a mind of its own, knowing information she had yet to understand.

Cecilia analyzed her surroundings, watching closely to how Dottore and the segments around him acted. She watched as he glared at her and then returned his attention to a nearby segment which was then approaching him. Dottore had begun discussing something with the segment, Cecilia wasn’t sure of what exactly because she could only hear her panicked thoughts rushing through her mind. It was in this small interaction that Cecilia noticed for a split second that Dottore had looked to Cecilia, then the segment, and then finally to Camil.

Cecilia’s eyes widened. Something was wrong. Her eyes darted to Camil and then to Dottore who grinned at her. For a while Cecilia couldn’t make out the words that Dottore was saying, but then she started to become more awake and aware. That’s when she clung to the first and only word she heard: ‘maintenance’. Her heart pounded in her chest like a heavy drum and her face turned pale as she realized what he meant by it.

Finally, Cecilia’s body moved and jumped towards Dottore’s. “Please, don’t do this.”

Dottore remained silent and motioned for a segment to approach him. He then pointed in the direction of Camil and asked the segment to grab him and bring him to one of the empty operating rooms. Cecilia’s eyes darted to Camil and she tried to rush to Camil’s side, but sadly, Dottore’s hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.

“Let go of me!” She yelled, but it was no use.

Dottore didn’t release her and instead he squeezed her wrist as if to crush her bones into dust. She whimpered in pain and looked to Camil with a remorseful look, only thinking about him in the midst of all her pain.

Camil looked at Cecilia with a pained expression. He could only watch for a few moments before he looked away and squeezed his eyes shut, beginning to cry not only from the sight, but the sound of her cries as well. He covered his ears with his hands, adding pressure to shut out Cecilia’s voice but it was a fruitless attempt. For he could still hear the shrill sound of her voice, piercing his skin like a razor blade.

Cecilia let out a loud scream as she watched Camil be escorted away from her and led into a nearby room. She reached out an arm towards him but she was painfully out of reach. Dottore yanked her backwards and threw her onto the floor carelessly. Cecilia cried out for Camil as she crawled her way to Dottore’s feet, clinging to his legs as she begged for him to reconsider.

“Don’t do this. Please, Zandik, he's all I have.” She pleaded.

Dottore looked down at Cecilia’s tear stained face and kicked her off of his legs, walking towards the nearby room without a second thought. Cecilia was frozen in place as she watched Dottore make his way towards the door, and it wasn’t until she heard the click of the door shutting that her maternal instincts kicked in, again. In an instant Cecilia jumped to her feet and ran straight for the room. She tried to turn the knob but it was too late, it was locked.

She slammed her fist against the door. “Zandik! Zandik, stop! Let me in!” She screamed, her voice falling on deaf ears.

Cecilia was at a loss as to what to do next. She slammed and pounded against the door, screaming until her throat burned, but it was no use. All she could do was hang onto the hope that Camil would be okay in the end, and that future seemed bleak from the few words she had heard through the door. Words such as ‘memory’, ‘brain’, and ‘scalpel’. It was becoming incredibly clear to Cecilia that things were about to take a turn for the worse, but if she found some way to stop them, save Camil, then maybe things could be different. Maybe, she hoped, she could alter the future.

She continued fighting even when it seemed futile. Eventually her arms grew weary and her body weak as she fell to the ground, her head leaning against the door as she became numb to the surrounding world. Whatever was to happen to Camil was now inevitable.

Hours had passed when the door was opened and woke Cecilia up. It didn’t take long for her to stumble to her feet, using the nearby wall to balance herself. She watched as Dottore moved him and Camil to the side, while three segments walked out the door and passed them. All three of the segments seemed to have unreadable expressions, giving Cecilia nothing to go off of to determine what sort of outcome she should expect. Cecilia came face to face with Dottore and pleaded for an answer with her eyes; he merely smiled and looked at Camil.

She knelt down and held Camil’s face in her hands. “So, he’s okay?”

Dottore nodded. “For the most part.”

Dottore grinned, almost as if he was holding back laughter, but Cecilia ignored it for the time being. She wrapped Camil up in a great big hug and sighed with relief.

“I thought I lost you.” She whispered.

Cecilia pulls back to stand up and reach a welcoming hand towards the boy. “Come on, let’s go finish that story.”

Camil said nothing. Instead he gave Cecilia a confused look before his gaze turned to Dottore. He tilted his head and stared at Dottore as if he had a question he was too scared to ask. Cecilia lowered her hand, sensing something was off about the situation. She wanted to ask Dottore a question, many in fact, but she was frozen in shock. Dottore looked at Camil and then back to Cecilia with a great big smile.

“Oh, yes, there is one minor detail I forgot to divulge.” Dottore admitted.

Cecilia stared at him in pure terror, not knowing what words would spill from his lips. She tried to reason that whatever truth he withheld could not be as bad as she thought. Camil was alive and well, after all. Nothing could possibly sour that triumphant truth.

“When I did a bit of maintenance I decided to work on some loose ends. Sadly, this meant I had to make some adjustments up here.” He pointed to Camil’s skull.

Cecilia’s heart pounded harder than it ever had before. She could feel her blood rushing through her body at an inhuman speed. Something was wrong.

“What did you do, Zandik?” Cecilia asked.

Dottore smiled at her, again. “I had to temper with his memory.” He paused for a second. “So, simply put, he doesn’t know who you are.”

Immediately Cecilia felt her heart drop into her stomach. She couldn’t hear anything. Not a single sound was heard other than the faint sound of someone wailing. It felt as if her chest was being crushed by tons of bricks. Cecilia couldn’t think, breathe, or even utter a single word.

I failed.

I failed you Camil.

Suddenly everything started to boil to the surface. Every word Dottore had ever said became etched into her skin, his grin implanted itself into her brain, and just as she thought she was calming down she got an image of Camil’s smiling face in the back of her eyes. Camil was gone. The boy she loved as one of her own for so long had become nothing but another face to look away from.

Cecilia started to mumble to herself, gripping onto her thin hair as she pulled on it and made a painful ache form on her scalp. Each time she had an image of Camil’s face staring back at her she felt her heart lurch and her breath hitch. She wanted to rip the skin right off her bones, rip and tear at her flesh until there was nothing left but a forgotten memory.

For a moment Cecilia snapped out of what hysteria had disrupted her mind to peer up at Dottore with a glare. Her eyes, a poisonous shade of magenta, pierced through his ruby ones. She wanted to kill him. Cecilia wanted him to feel the pain that was throbbing through each and every one of her veins.

Cecilia was not one to feel hatred for anyone, much less her own lover, but in that moment she had licked up the fresh taste of hatred and spat it back out. No more did she feel sympathy or care for the man who stood before her, instead she lapped up the taste of malice’s black ooze as if it was her favorite flavor. Cecilia had soon tuned out anyone surrounding her and Dottore, completely forgetting Camil and the remainder of the segments which accompanied him.

Without thinking she swung her hand across Dottore’s face, watching with locked eyes and flared nostrils as his mask fell to the floor with a loud clank. Usually the appearance of his scarred skin and deep red eyes would’ve caused Cecillia to feel a flutter in her chest, but what remained instead was a cavernous hole that sucked any good around her.

Camil, or what was left of him at least, was left backing into the wall behind him. He tried his best to escape in a stealthy way, but instead he had ended up opting for just running away. This time Cecilia paid him no mind, not even turning her head to get one last look before he ran behind another segment. The Camil she knew and loved had already died. So, what was the use holding onto an empty carcass? Just because her hands once held that small body of his in her arms, cradling him until he fell asleep, it did not mean that she had to hold onto him any longer.

Cecilia straightened her back as a trail of tears made its way down her pale cheeks. “You’re a fucking monster, Zandik, and you always will be.”

There was a familiar look in his eyes that Cecilia found upon uttering those words, but she paid it no mind. Instead she gave him a cold glare one last time before walking away. Her goal was to simply walk out of the lab and never return. Maybe, she would even find her way back to the flowery fields of Mondstadt, but instead something took control of her body and ate the last bit of warmth she had left inside her.

She walked past a few counters littered with scientific tools and other various substances. Cecilia stopped for a moment to catch her breath, simple as that, but then something happened. Deep down inside her gut something had snapped, releasing an intense feeling that was deeper than love and colder than hatred. Cecilia had finally lost all sense of rationale as she remembered the night she held Camil for the first time, and how his breathing was so small and weak. He had clung to her as if she was his mother, and in another world maybe she would’ve been.

In a fit of rage she swiped her arms across the contents of the counter which stood in front of her, knocking over various tools and beakers which had god knows what in them. She hissed in pain, something was burning. That burning had turned out to be her own skin and the smell was awful. In an attempt to ease the agony she felt she ended up falling back into another counter, and upon turning around she had destroyed more beakers that contained more unidentifiable substances. She cried out in pain as more random fluids had splashed against her skin, destroying the porcelain skin that used to rest comfortably on her body.

She stumbled in an attempt to run towards Dottore, cursing as she approached him. “What- Fuck! What was in those.. Those.. That fucking shit you have over there, Dottore. What is it?!” She screamed.

Dottore merely chuckled and responded calmly. “It’s acid.”

Cecilia growled and ran towards a nearby station that was used for emergency purposes, and quickly stepped into the nearby shower, turning it on as quickly as possible. Sadly, there was not much she could do, because upon looking at her reflection on her way into the shower she realized just how badly she’d been hurt. Although she could barely see with the pain searing throughout her whole body, she had realized that half of her face had been burned away by the substance. She looked for mere seconds, tears stinging against her open wounds before she quickly got into the shower, making sure to get the water all over the damaged skin. She wasn’t even entirely sure it would help her, but it was worth the try.

She continued to wash away the acid as best she could until her body fell completely weak against the hard tiled floor. Cecilia’s expression fell into something empty, looking down at her skin which had all but practically been destroyed by her rage. She hadn’t even noticed that some of the segments and Dottore, including the boy she used to call ‘Camil’ had long since left her, abandoning her to the cold floor covered in blood and various fluids. At that moment she wondered what the point in saving her flesh was if she couldn’t share anything good with it.

She felt her body weaken, the medications she was regularly given to by Dottore had no doubt weared off by now. Her fingers twitched and lips turned up in a small smile as she thought of the warm feeling of holding that small boy in her arms, carefully and with tenderness. As Cecilia pondered the what if’s her body had begun to freeze, her fingertips became covered by frost and her lips turned a bright shade of blue. She thought about if things could’ve been different had she let Dottore do as he pleased a little more. Maybe, if she was a little less stubborn and a little more soft things wouldn’t have ended so harshly. In the end she wasn’t sure what was left for her anymore. Perhaps Mondstadt would be a more welcome place to explore, but for all Cecilia cared she would’ve rather died than continue on with her journey in life.

She blinked only for a moment when she felt the last bits of warmth wash away into something bitter cold. It was as if she had died and gone to whatever hell was waiting for her. She accepted it for the most part, but not before her eyes opened and saw her breath floating in the air in front of her.

Where am I?

Why is it so cold?

It wasn't until she opened her eyes that she saw the floating vision in front of her. At first she hesitated, not knowing whether it was meant for her or not, but as she soon reached out for it with a trembling hand, it seemed to accept her. She didn't worry about whether that vision was hers, because as she looked at the glowing cryo vision once again she knew that it was indeed hers.

What a sick joke it was. Cecilia thought in that moment if her life had truly just been some joke for the archons to bask in. Had everything she’d done up to that point meant nothing? Had she meant nothing?

As much as she knew she had to get up, fight for her right to live, she just couldn’t. Even as she withered away on the floor she still couldn’t help but yearn to hold Camil in her arms again. She just wanted to feel the sunshine on her face as she told him another story she had learned in her time in Mondstadt. She wanted Camil back. She wanted her sweet, baby boy safe in her arms again. Sadly, Cecilia would only be left with the aching in her heart and the face of an unfamiliar person. Whoever Cecilia used to be had died that day and instead she had turned into something truly horrific

#dottore x female original character #dottore x oc #dottore x original character #genshin original character #genshin impact original character #genshin oc #genshin impact oc

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crisalidaseason · 4 months

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Traces of you

Summary: Warren as he notices the traces Layla leaves on him.

Pairing: Warren Peace/Layla Williams CW: during the fake dating stage, Warren is falling for her, so Is Layla, cute, fluff, pre-relationship, developing feelings, fake dating trope.

Lipstick stains

His boss noticed it first, asking him to clean up before starting his shift. In the bathroom, the rough paper did a poor job at removing the lipstick stain from his cheek. He sighed, wondering where his head went when accepting Williams’ deal. All that ‘making Will jealous’ disaster seemed unfruitful for Warren.

“Your lipstick stains” he had told her the next day at the table, not sure why it bothered him so much that it did.

The ginger in front of him made an apologetic face.

“Oh, Sorry, Warren. I won’t use it in school again, just in case. Promise”

She was always such a nice person, it made him feel strange. People weren’t nice to him - aside from his mom - a part of him expected Layla to just break the mask and be rude sometime, but deep down he knew she could never.

“There he is!” she whispered as they walked through the hallways.

He was getting too used to her lips touching his cheek, more than he should. The kiss was always short because Layla was always quick to check if Will noticed something. He never did, too enamored with Miss-preppy-Greyson.

As Warren checked his face in the Paper Lantern’s staff bathroom, he saw there was no stain on his cheek. He spent the entire shift wondering why it bothered him so much.

“Do you have a darker pink?” he asked the next day at lunch break.

Layla, still distracted by her reading, looked up at him.

“Darker pink of what?”

“Lipstick”

She tilted her head to the side, a little confused, but nodded.

“Will is going to notice if I walk around with a dark pink stain on my cheek” he simply said, trying not to be embarrassed by his comment.

He was just helping her be more convincing with the whole fake-dating, right?

Layla seemed to think for a while.

“Are you sure?”

Warren nodded. He still had a pink mark on his face by the next Paper Lantern shift.

Glitter

“Your shirt was dusted with glitter” his mother commented while helping her son fold the laundry.

Warren looked at her quizzically.

“Not too much, but still glitter nonetheless” her mother’s grin was unmistakable.

“Mom” he groaned.

She surrendered her hands in the air, chuckling.

“Sorry, but it is unusual! You can tell me things, you know?”

He remained silent, but still attentive to her words.

“It’s normal to date at your age”

“I’m not dating mom!” he replied. Trying to hide his red face as his mother chuckled beside him.

Layla was never afraid of wearing glitter on her eyelids, or sometimes one of her cardigans would have glittery designs, her bracelets were covered in glitter. He was fine with it, found it scaringly endearing despite the fact it stuck to his clothes. He noticed that Magenta, Zach and Ethan also had some on their clothes, for sure the result of a hugger-Layla.

“There is glitter on my shirt” he commented once in the library.

Layla would spend her only free period in the library, where coincidentally Warren would also go. She did not need to sit beside him, Will was not there, but she did anyway.

“Really?” She whispered back.

He showed the bluish-green sparkles on his right arm, a result of wearing her glittery bracelets and hugging his arm.

“Oh” she replied “Sorry, Warren!”

“It’s okay” he replied “but they are persistent, the washing machine has no chance”

She smiled, chuckling lightly. He liked when she smiled, Warren felt funny when he made her laugh.

“Besides, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I did not have glitter dusted all over my shirts?” he reasoned.

“The fake kind” she whispered humorously.

Warren let a smile escape.

Perfume

Warren did not wear perfume. He did use deodorant - he was not a unhygienic neanderthal after all - but the smell coming from his jacket was definitely perfume. A mix of lavender and oranges seemed to be stuck on his jacket that he so politely offered Layla to wear over her head to avoid the drizzle. It was an enjoyable perfume, not too sweet or strong, fresh and so…Layla.

He considered not washing the jacket that day.

“You smell of limes today” he commented while checking the time. The school bus was late.

“Is it too intense?” she asked.

He denied with a short head movement, looking at her smaller frame and smiling a little.

“It’s nice”

Layla smiled at him, cheeks reddening more than her blush intended too.

“Do you have it with you?” he asked after a few minutes of silence.

“The perfume?”

He nodded.

“Care to share a little? You know, smelling like your girlfriend is surely a normal thing, right?”

Layla seemed to ponder for a few seconds, her grin growing bigger as she opened her bag to take a small bottle.

“Ready?” she asked.

Warren nodded as the ginger girl sprayed a few times. The smell of limes - and maybe a hint of cloves - invaded his nostrils.

#sky high #sky high 2005 #warren peace #layla williams #warren x layla #is greenpeace their official ship name or is this tumblr tag suggestion weird?#Because greenpeace is a cute name

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ticklishraspberries · 1 year

Text

Hand in Unlovable Hand (Inej/Kaz)

Summary: Kaz learns that holding hands without his gloves is surprisingly nice. It also leads to another surprise. (Prompt from an anon but I had also started writing it like an HOUR before getting the prompt, LMFAO. Great minds think alike. Please enjoy my humble offering of Kanej fluff. Warnings for vague references to both Kaz and Inej’s canon trauma.)

Shaking slightly, Kaz tugs the glove off of his right hand, pulling the leather slowly until his hand is bare, and places the glove down on his desk. He repeats the action with the other one, and Inej is frozen as she watches him remove his armor for her.

All the rumors about the Bastard of the Barrel — hands permanently stained by the blood of his enemies, or murderous claws like some sort of demjin…Although Inej had never believed it, she can’t lie and say her curiosity had not been piqued. But Kaz’s hands are just that: Hands.

His skin is pale, much paler than the rest of him, since it’s always guarded from the sun. His nails are short, fingertips calloused. His knuckles are still bruised from a fight with the Dime Lions a few days prior.

Inej isn’t disappointed that the outlandish rumors are far from the truth. In fact, it fills her with a sense of warmth that Kaz trusts her enough to show her the facts beneath the fanfare. That at the end of the day, Kaz Brekker is just a boy, and she is just a girl, and they are half-terrified, half-excited at the idea of interlacing their fingers, skin on skin, for the first time.

The tension in the room is thick enough for Inej to slice it with Santka Alina, but she’s left all of her knives down in her bedroom, leaving her own armor behind to even the playing field.

Her heart skips as Kaz reaches out. His pinky links with hers, and he lets out a breath she hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Alright, Kaz?” she asks.

He clears his throat. “Alright. You?”

She nods, and dares to push her hand farther into his, and he doesn’t recoil, although she sees the idea flicker across his face.

After the first time, it gets a little easier. There are still days where the water creeps up the shore, freezing Kaz in terror, bile climbing his throat, and affection is off the table until the waves recede. Inej has those days, too, where she can’t tell a loving touch from that of a client, indulging in a torturous transaction.

Hands are easier to get used to than lips, or anything beneath their clothes. They both hope they can build up to that, someday, but for now, they are content to intertwine fingers and knock their trouser-clad knees together beneath tables in the Crow Club, a little secret touch for them to share.

After a busy night, Kaz finds himself sitting at his desk, bad leg stretched out before him, the top buttons on his shirt undone and his gloves off to the side, while Inej perches on his desktop, braid loose and smiling.

He has never been good at verbalizing his desires, a fact that is stunningly shown by how long it took him to voice his affection for her. But even Barrel bosses get worn down, and Kaz has only ever turned to booze and violence to cope with that burnt-out feeling.

Maybe now, he’s found a more healthy alternative, in the way that her touch simultaneously soothes and excites him.

He lets out a little huff and extends his hand in her direction, ungloved palm facing the ceiling.

Inej raises a brow at him. “Is this your way of asking me to hold your hand?” she asks.

Kaz feels the tips of his ears burn. He can’t remember blushing more in his life than he has in her presence, and he can only hope that she doesn’t always notice. Deep down, he knows she does.

“Perhaps,” he replies.

When Inej just stares at him, awaiting a real answer, he sighs. “Inej, darling, will you please take my hand?”

Her face splits into a smile. “Of course I will.”

Rather than lacing their fingers together, Inej places her hand beneath his — her hand is so much smaller, her fingers can’t quite wrap around — and trails the tip of her thumb along the curved line on his palm, stretching from the heel of his hand to beneath his pointer finger.

A shudder rolls through Kaz, and his hand clenches in her grasp.

“Are you alright?” she asks, grip loosening.

“I’m fine,” he replies. “It just…I guess I’m not used to people touching me there. It was just…Different.”

Inej watches him carefully, like she’s trying to be sure he’s telling the truth. She must be convinced, because she gives his hand a gentle squeeze before resuming the action of tracing the little lines on his palm. His fingers give the occasional twitch, but Inej gives him the benefit of the doubt, that if he were truly growing upset with the sensation, he would pull away; she had made him promise on multiple occasions that he would not suffer in silence to try and appease her. She wants him without armor, yes, but she doesn’t expect it to all fall away at once.

When her touch strays lower again, towards his wrist, Kaz makes a soft noise in his throat that makes her look up again. “Seriously, Kaz, is there something wrong?”

Kaz averts his gaze from her face, flushed from the collar of his shirt to his ears, a dusty pink that sticks out on his pale skin, even in the dim light. “It tickles, alright?” he says, and his gravelly voice somehow sounds softer, younger.

Inej’s dark eyes widen in surprise before her face settles into the most fond, loving smile. When Kaz dares to look back at her, his heart nearly melts at the sight. He has spent so long convinced that he is unlovable, unwanted. He still hasn’t quite wrapped his head around the idea that Inej wants him, the same way he wants her. But when she looks at him like that, like he’s…Like he’s beautiful, he feels like he just might deserve her.

“Kaz Brekker, you never fail to amaze me,” she says, her tone light and teasing. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a person who was ticklish on their hands.”

He brings the hand that isn’t still clutched in her grasp up to his face, a lousy attempt to hide his flustered expression. “Shut up,” he says, but there’s not an ounce of venom behind it.

Inej laughs, his favorite sound, and uses the advantage of his covered eyes to scribble her nails against the center of his palm, making a surprised chuckle fall from his lips.

He finally pulls his hand back, rubbing away the tingly sensation on the leg of his pants.

“Too far?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “My ego is wounded, but otherwise, I’m alright.”

“Oh, please. Everyone is ticklish, Kaz.”

“Even you?” he asks, the hint of a smile tugging on his lips.

She’s gone in a flash, silently descending from the desk and out the window, an answer enough to his question. He chuckles again, to himself, and for once, the prospect of revenge is so utterly innocent, it makes some hidden, childish urge in him spring to life.

Back in her room, that same bit of childlike glee has grasped at Inej, causing an excited flutter in her stomach. Because at the end of the day, she is just a girl who remembers her father talking about the boy who would one day sweep her off her feet, and Kaz is just a boy, a lovable boy with a shy smile who has done just that.

#kanej #kanej fluff #kanej fic #six of crows #six of crows fic #six of crows tickling #six of crows tickle #kaz x inej #inej x kaz #raspberry writes

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ladykailitha · 2 years

Text

Oh For a Muse of Fire! Part 3

Just know that Steve is being an unreliable narrator to Robin about his day, and had been spiraling all day.

Part 1 Part 2

The three of them together got down and showed Opal what she had to do, making quick work of the process.

Things went well for a first night and once they had cleaned up for the night and divvied out tips, Opal watched as Steve and Pearl walked out together.

She turned to Diamond, “I thought we weren’t supposed to know each other’s real names.”

Diamond grinned. “They come as packaged deal. If you hire one, you have to hire the other. They’re like symbiotic soul twins or something. But they’re good workers and I don’t mind it so much.”

Opal nodded. “So they’re not a couple? I mean they said they weren’t, but I was watching them all night and they’re couple level cutesy with each other.”

Diamond shook his head. “You’re more Pearl’s type than Garnet is.” He winked at her and patted her on the shoulder.

Steve started removing his shirt the second he and Robin got home.

“Just how many times did the new girl splash drinks on you?” Robin asked eyeing the several different stains.

“Three times,” Steve mumbled. “The other two were from patrons trying to get free drinks.”

Robin winced. “I’m sorry. At least Opal seems nice.”

Steve sighed. “I’m sure she’ll fit in fine. It’s just going to take a while for her to get used to everything.” He ran his fingers through his hair and grimaced. “I somehow got booze in my hair.”

Robin grimaced back. “Gross. Go get the first shower.”

Steve kissed her cheek. “You’re the best, Robs.”

As he was about to close the bathroom door, she called out, “And when you’re done I want to hear all about your class. Because don’t think I didn’t notice you being off today.”

He groaned and slammed the door. He didn’t want to think about it. But he also knew that talking to his best friend would make him feel better. He turned on the water as hot as he could stand it and then stripped. He stepped under the steaming water and let it wash over him.

Let it wash away the pain both emotional and physical of the day. He washed his hair and then as the conditioner set he worked on scrubbing away the filth and slime of working at bar.

He put on his pajamas and walked out, towel drying his hair.

“Come on,” Robin said, patting the spot on the sofa next to her. “I dug out our emergency rocky road ice cream.”

Ouch. Steve supposed that his day had been worth the rocky road, but the fact that she had picked up on it was what hurt. He flopped down next to her with a heavy sigh. He took a spoon from her and began digging into the ice cream tub.

“So, you know how I had to get special permission to be in Mrs Byers class?” he began after several bites.

“Yeah,” she said around a mouthful of ice cream.

“Apparently the rumor is that Daddy threw his weight and money around to get me in the class so I leer at naked women.” Steve stabbed at the ice cream. Yeah, Eddie had been the one to say it, but he could tell it was what everyone was thinking.

Robin winced. “Ouch. Instead of that you know the professor?”

Steve nodded. “I tried talking to her after class, once people had gone, but she kinda brushed me off.”

Robin wrapped her arm around him and kissed his temple. “I’m sorry, Steve. Maybe she was just trying to keep up appearances so the two of didn’t get into trouble.”

He sighed. “I suppose. But she could have said that.” He threw up the one hand dramatically. “It’s not like anyone else was there. And anyone in the hall wouldn’t have been able to hear what we were saying. It just...”

“Hurt.”

Steve laid his head on her shoulder. “That wasn’t even the worst part.” He pulled his knees up to his chest.

She looked down at him. “Yeah, what was worst than that.”

“The live model is Eddie Munson,” he said. “And he hates me.”

Robin’s eyes went wide. “Eddie? As in went to Hawkins, stood on tables, and took three times to graduate Eddie?”

Steve nodded. “Also known as the longest gay crush I’ve ever had. I’ve had crush on him since my freshman year. And now not only do I have to see him naked, without any of the fun parts, but doing it knowing he hates me.” He let out a sob.

“You don’t know he hates you,” she whispered in his ear and kissed the top of his head.

Steve told her everything Eddie had said.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Robin breathed into his hair. “I guess the saying is true for crushes as it is for heroes. Never meet them.”

He just sobbed as she made soft murmurs of comfort.

Steve walked into his class with his head held down and made his way to the seat he was in before. He managed to avoid catching Eddie’s eye and he sat down with a sigh. He just had to suck it up for fifteen weeks. Keep his head down and his mouth shut. And hope to whatever god was out there that he could keep his interactions with Eddie to a minimum.

Joyce stood in the center of the classroom a little in front of Eddie who was sitting on the same stool from last time.

“I hope you are all sitting in seats that you like,” she said, “but after today you won’t be able to change seats.”

There was some uproar, but she quieted them down with an ear piercing whistle.

“Hey!” she called out. “It’s because you’ll want to be drawing from the angle every time otherwise your drawing and for the final oil painting will not turn out well.”

Everyone eyed each other and grumbled, with a few people getting up and shuffling around. Joyce let them.

Steve stayed in his spot. It was far enough back that the model (Eddie, his mind helpfully supplied) would be in full view, but close enough so Steve could make out details.

Someone tried to make him move.

“Come on, I want to sit there,” the girl whined. “It’s the best spot in the room.”

Steve smiled up at her, tight lipped. “I know. That’s why I’m here. I need this class to graduate.”

Eddie frowned. He supposed that could be true, an art credit for whatever business or law degree the dude was getting.

“Just move, asshole,” she sneered.

Steve worked his jaw back and forth. He didn’t want to get Joyce involved, mainly because he was pretty damn sure she would take the girl’s side. Be the gentleman and all that.

“I’m not moving,” he said firmly. “I was here first. I picked this spot because it’s got the best view of the model. This is my last class and then I’m done with school and I’m not going to fuck it up on the second day just because you feel entitled to a chair and an easel.”

She looked about to explode when Joyce came over. Steve closed his eyes expecting the worst.

“What’s going on here?” Joyce asked firmly.

The girl teared up. “He stole my seat, Mrs Byers. I was there first and when everyone else was moving around he slipped in and took it from me.” Steve looked up at her in shock.

Joyce raised a single eyebrow. “Steve?”

He looked back and forth between them. “What does it matter? No one’s going to believe me anyway.” He leaned over to grab his stuff, but he felt a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Steve...” Joyce said. “Just tell me your side.”

He let out a shuddering breath. “I sat here last time. When I arrived first thing it was empty. I sat down, same as before. Then she came up and started demanding I get up.”

Joyce looked at the girl. “Is this true, Michelle?”

Michelle shook her head, tears still falling down her cheeks.

Joyce looked around them. “Did anyone see what happened?” she called out.

Eddie stepped forward and Steve knew at once that he was fucked. He would be regulated to the back, and he would fail the class. Again.

Eddie put his hands on his lower back and rocked back on his heels. “She’s a lying reptilian bitch.”

All heads snapped to face him.

“Excuse me?!” Michelle protested.

“You heard me,” Eddie sneered. “Save your crocodile tears for the drama department, they’ll go over better there.”

Steve gulped.

“It happened just like Stevie here said. He didn’t do anything wrong. And I don’t think he should be forced to give up his spot just because she’s a woman, either,” Eddie continued.

Joyce turned to Michelle. “Take a spot in the back and come see me after class. We will be discussing whether or not you will be continuing my class.”

Michelle squealed in outrage. “But Mrs Byers!”

Joyce pointed at the back of the class and she was forced to walk back, every eye in the class following her.

Joyce pressed on the bridge of her nose and sighed.

“All right, now that we are all settled,” she said to the class. “We are going to work on upper body today.”

Eddie grinned. He looked Steve straight in the eye and took off his shirt. Steve reached down and grabbed his water bottle. His mouth was so dry right now. He gulped down the water as Eddie walked backward to sit back on his stool. He tied his hair back in a neat bun and got into position.

Steve was going to combust.

He picked up his drawing board and set it on the easel. He pulled out his pencils and got to work.

When Joyce came around, she stopped to admire it. “You’re really good, Steve. Just remember to go lightly at first, so it’s easier to correct mistakes.”

Steve blushed. That was his problem in all aspects of his life. He always went into heavy. Too dark. And when it inevitably blew up in his face, he was scarred for life.

“I’ll try, Mrs Byers,” he replied. He picked out an 4H pencil to force himself to go lighter and she nodded approvingly.

She walked on and Steve let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He really valued her opinion. She was the one that convinced him to try for art school. To teach art to others.

As he was cleaning up his stuff, Eddie came bounding up to him. With his shirt still off. Asshole.

“How did you know this was the best seat in the class?” Eddie asked as he tugged the shirt over his head. Not like it changed much. The sleeves had been off and most of the sides stretched so that Steve could count his ribs. Something he was very much trying not to do.

“I’ve failed the class three times,” Steve bit out. “So I’m really hoping to not do that again.”

Eddie laughed. “You failed three times? You must really like to leer at naked people.”

And there it was. Steve really shouldn’t have got his hopes up that Eddie was a cool dude.

“It’s not like that,” he growled. “And you know what? I don’t have to defend myself to you. Now, excuse me, I have to go get ready for work.” He brushed past Eddie, knocking their shoulders as he stormed off.

Eddie scowled. He jumped in because he didn’t like the way Steve immediately thought everyone would have gone against him. He liked proving people wrong. But every interaction he had with King Steve left him feeling like he was in the wrong.

He didn’t like that feeling. Not at all.

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Epilogue

Tag List: @artiststarme @allbymyselfexceptformycactus @spectrum-spectre estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @itsall-taken @m-owo-n @zerokrox-blog @runyousillydetective @grimmfitzz @wonderland-girl143-blog @sapphirecobalt-1@scheodingers-muppet @victor-thee-corvid @apricottree @bookbinderbitch @sleepyboosstuff @biatcgh @pixiefallingupthestairs @grtwdsmwhr @thepainisspicy @carlyv @eboyawstenn @bisexualdisastersworld @bidisastersworld @abstractnaturaldisaster @evix-syne666 @nerdsconquerall @lololol-1234 @goodolefashionedloverboi

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #art school au #gay steve harrington #bisexual eddie munson #ladykailtiha writes

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newtonsheffield · 1 year

Note

Is there gonna be any call on their "we aren't exclusive" bluff? Like, is one of them going to be propositioned by someone they otherwise would have been interested in?

Well, Kate’s not helping herself because she keeps going out, telling herself that she and Anthony aren’t exclusive and she’s absolutely not going to call him tonight.

But there’s also the fact that Siena’s back in London for a few weeks and normally, when she messages Anthony he just sends through his roster so she knows when he;s free to hook up between her shows. But now he’s kind of… not that into it. Siena’s great, they’re great friends but he’s… kind of really feeling this thing with Kate right now. His heart pounds in his chest when he sees her and it’s nice when they sit in a hotel room and eat dinner with his arm around her shoulders, one fork between them. He feels like he can let Kate see parts of himself that he’d be too embarrassed to let anyone else see. Like when he could feel his head spinning and his pulse pounding in his ears as he fumbled in his bag for his stain remover pen and her hands had been steady.

“Let me do it. You’re okay. It’ll come right out.”

“Sorry, um… Sorry.” He murmured while she stamped lightly at his tie with the pen.

Kate shrugged, “Don’t be embarrassed. We all struggle.” She smiled, recapping the pen, “All done, handsome.”

He’d felt the kindness and understanding in her eyes and it settled in his chest. “Thank you, Kate. I appreciate it.”

She smiled again perching her hat on her head with a wink, “Always happy to help a gentleman in need.”

He likes Kate, maybe too much if he’s being really honest with himself. And he hasn’t responded to Siena’s text yet, hasn’t decided what to say when Kate picks up his phone by mistake.

“That’s my phone.” He chuckled, kissing her neck, “Who is it?”

“It’s Siena.” Kate said awkwardly, “She wants to know if you want to hook up or not.”

Anthony’s stomach dropped, “Oh, well… I… no.”

He saw something else in Kate’s eyes for a moment before she cleared her throat and it was gone “Why not? Doesn’t matter to me, we’re not exclusive, right?”

And he tried not to feel like his heart was breaking when he nodded, “Ah yeah, I guess we aren’t.”

“Just… wrap it up or get an STI check before we hook up again.” Kate tugged her shirt back on, even though she’d only just arrived, “I actually have to go.”

She reached the door before Anthony could find his voice, “Kate?”

She turned slowly, her eyes watching him carefully as she stood in her doorway. “What?”

Stay

Don’t leave

I don’t want to see her. I don’t want to see anyone else.

But he couldn’t bring himself to say any of it. So he just said “I’ll see you at work on Wednesday.”

“Yep. See you at work. Have fun.”

#mile high #kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

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the-clones-deserve-the-best · 3 months

Text

Got an idea to do a little rewrite of episode 6 but with Yord instead of Osha thanks to a post by @junocornkiwi

This is also being posted (and modified) on Archive.

I only wanted to post a small part, but the last one I tried posting felt like three whole chapters instead of one

___

All Yord remembered was him. Him being in his head. That only added more stress to the fact that he plowed through his friends like they were training dummies. He tried to save his comrade but realized he only delayed her fate.

After his leg was cut by the red saber, Yord could only lay helpless as the masked stranger impaled her and pulled another Jedi into his saber with her before decapitating both of them.

Then he remembered being with Jecki as they escorted Osha back to the ship to get her away from danger and warn the council of what happened here. After Ithia Paan's death was sensed by the trio through the force, Osha desperately wanted to go back for Sol.

Yord volunteered to go alone. Osha was safer with Jecki than him. They were closer. She never once assumed Osha's guilt.

"When you get back to the temple, find Master Plo Koon. He's the master who completed my training. He will have the patience to complete your training. It's the best way we can protect you, Verosha is to make sure you can defend yourself."

He looked Jecki in the eyes before he left. They always bickered and made fun of each other. They were siblings. They also had an undying loyalty to each other. He knew Jecki didn't want him to go, but she put her emotions aside.

"May the force be with you." She finally said before guiding Osha towards the ship.

When he got back, he saw Ithia Paan laying dead not far from Him. Her neck was snapped. There was no sign of a saber wound. It really unsettled him. A jedi, especially one as skilled as Ithia Paan, killed without a weapon.

Besides that, he only remembered saving Mae from him and seeing his actual face before everything went black.

He sprung awake in a mysterious cave. His arm had been bandaged, and his wound healed. He was shirtless as he usually was when he slept.

Yord looked across the cave and saw his robes. He got up to approach them. They were not only clean. They had been ironed and neatly folded, placed above a towel to keep them from getting stained by the rock they were set on.

He went to put them back on when he saw another pair of clothes. Civilian clothes from what it seemed. He unconsciousnessly opted for them. Black Hakama pants with a loose white sleevless shirt. The fabric felt smooth against his skin. The boots blended into his pants. His feet never felt warmer.

He bent over to pick up a collection of throwing knives. Like Mae had. He examined them before seeing a figure out of the corner of his eyes. He reverse gripped one of them, holding it up.

It was him. He saw Yord but ignored him, knowing he'd follow. Which Yord did. He sensed Yord's tension. He knew Yord wouldn't attack from behind like he did earlier. That was to save Mae and Sol. Qimir had no hostages. He was going about his day on his private ocean planet like he didn't shish kebab two jedi and snap another's neck to prove a point to Mae

Yord observed Qimir closely. He watched as Qimir just stood at the edge of the ocean. Stared off into the distance before removing his robes. He was naked, and Yord felt a flush in his face. His heart trembled, and his breath got deeper. Once he recollected himself, he slowly approached. His attention turned to Qimir's lightsaber.

Through the force, he could hear the battle that took place hours earlier. The sound of the blade cutting through some of the most highly skilled Jedi like they were defeneless younglings.

He bent down to put up the saber. It was very well crafted, much lighter than it looked. It fascinated him.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Qimir called out. Yord immediately got defensive. He ignited the blade, staring Qimir down. "You can feel your old power returning, can't you?"

"Don't come any closer!" Yord yelled out. "I won't hesitate."

"If you're not going to join me, I'd like to put my clothes back on." Qimir responded. He fully submerged himself. Yord felt the urge to use the force to keep him there and drown him. The feeling made him smile a bit. "I know you're considering it."

Yord snapped back to reality. His eyes met Qimir's. He remembered that the saber was active. He could have stuck Qimir down.

"You're wondering if it's okay to strike me down." Qimir started. He stared into Yord's eyes. "In the heat of battle, it's justified. A few hours later? It's vengeance."

Yord got distracted by Qimirs other saber. He snapped back into focus. He didn't mean to stare but it caught his eye. He turned his head to block it from his vision.

"Did you kill Sol?" Yord asked. Qimir just stared at him with disappointment.

"No." He answered

"Did you kill Jecki?" He asked with more concern in his eyes.

"No." Qimir answered. I saw her and Osha get on the ship for Coruscant."

A flash of relief filled Yord's eyes for his little sister. Little Jecki, while always appearing composed, has a violent side to her when she is in a fight. She could probably have defeated Qimir if she had complete control over her emotions.

"Weird you asked about him first." Qimir interupted. "Considering his role in what happened to us."

"I don't know you!" Yord yelled. "You killed my friends!"

"I only killed those who threatened my existence." Qimir responded. He slowly put his pants on, watching Yord's eyes glaze his chest. He walked calmly past Yord. He expected Yord to follow, which he did. It pleased Qimir to have an old friend with him again.

"Where'd you get that scar?" Yord asked.

"How do you think?" Qimir asked.

"How am I supposed to know? I wasn't there!" Yord snapped

"Not physically. You felt it through our conmection. Although we were systems apart. You felt my pain. You've got the same scar on your back. They just took your memories and convinced you it was a birth mark."

"Who?" He asked

"The jedi." Qimir responded

"The Jedi wouldn't do that to me!" Yord snapped. Qimir didn't respond. Just looked him in the eyes and smirked. "What's so funny?"

"That you believe that. I find it so cute that you believe that." Qimir replied. "That the Jedi wouldn't do whatever possible to keep themselves in the positive light. Even to you."

"I don't believe you!" Yord replied.

"Then don't. The longer you're here, the faster the effects will wear off. You picked my clothes over your robes. It's already starting."

"You cleaned my robes? And steamed them?" Yord asked innocently.

"Just how you always liked it." Qimir smiled. Despite the mass murder of his friends a few hours before, Qimir's smile and warmth felt genuine. Yord couldn't help but be curious about this bond they once had.

Yord followed Qimir back into his cave. Qimir started making dinner. He gave him a cup of cold water, also just how he liked it. He smelled something familiar. Something he hadn't had in a while. It was an old favorite that he hadn't had in a while.

"Are you trying to seduce me and get my clothes off?" Yord asked.

"Only if that's what you want." Qimir smirked. "Right now my objective is to remind you of our dyad."

Dyad? Yord thought.

"We were an unstoppable dyad in the force. We could see through each other's eyes, hear what the other can hear even from light years away. Our power was great and we could have brought the Jedi in a better path to being more compassionate." Qimir started.

"Through our dyad, I could sense that you made knight again two years ago, you took a young Zygerrian girl named Tasi Lowa as your first padawan. You went out of your way to make her feel like she actually belongs."

Yord tensed up at the idea of Qimir knowing about Tasi. He thought of the worst.

"Don't worry, I wouldn't hurt Tasi." Qimir started. "I'd help train her so she would be a powerful warrior. More powerful than both of us. She could be strong enough to take over her planet and start fixing their wrong doings."

"Don't mention Tasi!" Yord got defensive. "Leave her out of this."

"You're so defensive." Qimir observed. He turned his attention to their dinner. "You see her like a little sister. A daughter, maybe?"

"Maybe. Jecki is more of a little sister to me. I guess Tasi is.."

"You always wanted to be a father, Yord." Qimir's face lit up at the memory. "You were always protective of me when we would go on missions. I still believe that you'd be an amazing father if ever given the chance."

Yord sat there with a confused look on his face. Why can't he remember any of this? If Qimir is telling the truth, why can't he remember it. If Qimir was lying, why else would he have kept him alive when he could have easily killed him like they were enemies. He didn't. He just knocked him unconsciousness then took him to his private retreat and healed him. Gave him fresh clothes and, from the smell, is making an old favorite of his for dinner.

"Cortosis." Qimir changed the subject. "Good for sensory deprivation and against lightsabers."

"Is that why you were headbutting lightsabers like a mad man?" Yord laughed. He was quite amused by Qimir's antics. He had to admit he respected that cockiness.

"Yes. It also fills your enemies with fear and confusion." Qimir replied, handing Yord a bowl of soup. "Here, remember this? We ate this a lot as padawans."

Yord took a bite and felt a burst of nostalgia. Suddenly, he had a flashback of Plo Koon bringing them food after a successful mission. It was like being a little family. Master Plo and Sol taking them out to lunch with the extra crdits they snuck or saved from the last misson.

Yord smiled, thinking of the times. Master Plo was always patient with him when he was a padawan. Anytime Yord felt frustrated with his progress, Plo Koon took him a side and just let him vent his frustration. It helped him clear his mind so he could focus better when Master Plo went over the lesson again with him.

"Give it a shot." Qimir interupted. Handing his helmet to Yord. "It'll help you unlock more memories. Your memories are yours and should always have been."

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

#qimir x yord #star wars #yord x qimir #yord fandar #qimir the acolyte #the acolyte #mention of Plo Koon who will appear soon #force dyad #rewrite for copium reasons

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calabria-mediterranea · 7 months

Text

The Story Of Natuzza Evolo: Calabrian Mystic

Natuzza was a Calabrian mystic who acted as a medium and healer, showed evidence of stigmata, and could “bi-locate” — be in two different places at once. She is also connected with “hemography,” which is when blood stains miraculously transform into symbols, shapes, and even words, particularly Christian ones like crosses.

Natuzza was born in 1924 in Paravati, a tiny hamlet near Mileto in Calabria. Her given name is Fortunata, from which the diminutive “Natuzza” comes. Natuzza’s father had left for Argentina a few months before she was born, and he never returned, leaving Natuzza’s mother alone to care for her newborn as well as her other children.

Natuzza never learned to read or write and helped support her mother and siblings by working for local families. She allegedly began having her first visions as a small child — Jesus, it is said, appeared to her as a boy who played with her and one of her brothers — but her brushes with the dead didn’t become popular knowledge around town until she began experiencing them as a young teen at work.

And it wasn’t just apparitions with Natuzza, even as a child. At her First Holy Communion, her mouth reportedly filled with blood when the wafer symbolizing the body of Christ was placed inside. At her Confirmation, a large stain of blood in the form of a cross formed on the back of her shirt.

Because of Natuzza’s experiences with the paranormal, as a young woman she was closed in an asylum with a diagnosis of "hysterical syndrome" for a few months by the local priest and was not permitted to enter a convent to become a nun.

Natuzza became known for the appearance on her body of blood-coloured images and words around the time of Easter and these caused her great psychological and physical pain. Some of the words were found to be Hebrew and Aramaic which was strange because she could not read or write, even in her native Italian. For decades devout Catholics from Calabria, then the rest of Italy and other parts of the world, began coming to her to ask for advice and prayers and to ask her for information about the souls of their relatives.

In addition to seeing Jesus, Natuzza also claimed to have also seen and communicated with the Virgin Mary, angels, and the dead, particularly souls in purgatory, throughout her life.

Natuzza was also considered a healer, credited with being able to look at a person and tell them what was ailing them, physically — using formal, medical terminology — as well as suggest treatments. She could also see the future and sometimes spoke in languages she didn’t know (remember, again, she was illiterate). In fact, some of her blood stains even transformed into phrases in foreign languages.

However, Natuzza never accepted money for what she did or was accused of participating in anything fraudulent based on her abilities, which, in the eyes and hearts of many, lend credence to her and her followers’ claims.

"It's a question of removing the suggestive religious context from the event. It doesn't allow rational reading since it cloaks it in mythology and unprovable hypotheses," says the Italian Committee for the Checking of Pseudoscientific Claims, or CICAP.

The group believes the so-called stigmata cases are really examples of Gardner-Diamond syndrome, "a skin condition that, although rare, is well documented in medical literature." The syndrome gives rise to a series of periodic, painful and bleeding bruises of unclear origin, combined with psychiatric disorders such as self-harm.

Although she’s relatively unknown internationally, Italians have been fascinated by Natuzza for generations as she has been a popular subject of books and various Italian television programs.

After Natuzza passed away on All Saints’ Day in 2009, about 30,000 people traveled from all over Italy and beyond for her funeral in rural Calabria. One-hundred priests and six Italian bishops were also in attendance.

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ninebluehearts · 2 years

Note

MY BRAINS GONE BLANK AAAAHHHH-

since im obsessed with dorm room mark (by @) maybe reader/OC going on a date being in a relationship and it becomes serious and it suddenly creeping up on marc how much he misses her aka marc being in loOvE. but he thinks he's not good enough for her bc it marc so self loathing :((

idk its 10pm i tried

I'M OBSESSED-

Summary: Marc is overwhelmingly in love with you. You're overwhelming in love, just not with Marc..

Warnings: Some serious sadness up ahead, my dudes.

A/n: First fic in awhile y'all! Hope you enjoy it!

------------------------------------------------

Marc slumped against the frame of your bedroom door, watching as you swiped the wand of a red lip gloss across your lips for the second time, concealing the pink of your lips with the dark red liquid.

"You look like a hooker." Marc said, a smirk creeping onto his lips as you glared at him. "A lovely hooker, if it makes you feel any better."

"You're not funny." You said, shoving the wand back into it's respective tube and tossing it into your makeup bag, knowing you'd be back for it later into the night. "Does it really look bad?" You asked as you swiped your finger under your bottom lip to remove the excess gloss.

"Where are you going? I thought we were gonna watch Ferris Bueller's Day Off and eat the brownies I made?"

"Out." You zipped up your black, thigh high boots and threw your bag over your shoulder, brushing past Marc and heading to the bathroom.

Marc followed you, leaning against the closed door. "So, you're gonna ditch me for Marvin again?"

"You know that's not his name!" You stifled a laugh, not wanting to reward Marc's petty jokes. "It's Mark with a K and you know it." You said as you pulled open the bathroom door, tossing the hand towel at Marc.

"Yeah, Melvin. That's what I said." Truth be told, Marc felt guilty for loving the fact that they basically had the same name. It meant that late in the night, when you thought Marc was asleep across the dorm, and when you screamed Mark's name, Marc could pretend it was his own. It always felt so, so wrong. But also so, so right.

You rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around Marc's neck as you pulled him into a quick, tight hug. "If I'm up for it, we can do your thing when I get back, okay?"

Marc just nodded, trying to be discreet as he buried his face in your neck and took a deep breath, relishing in the scent of your perfume against your warm skin. It was truly intoxicating.

Before you pulled away, you leaned up and gave Marc a small peck on his cheek, leaving a red kiss mark on the skin. "Oh shit- sorry about that," You said with a laugh, hurrying towards the door. "I'll see you later."

Once the door was closed, Marc slowly reached up and gently touched his cheek, chills running down his spine as he replayed the moment over in his mind. "I love you." He whispered, knowing you would never love him the same way he loved you.

You never did come home. Marc knew this because he fell asleep on the couch waiting for you last night. He woke up with brownie crumbs on his shirt and the main menu for Farris Bueller's Day Off on the TV. "At least I had a good time last night." He mumbled to himself, taking a sip of his warm beer that had been left on the coffee table for the past six hours.

You know that's not true, mate.

The voice in the back of his mind said to him, though he continued to ignore it like he always did. He picked up the glass container that held what was left of his brownies and the warm beer and left them on the kitchen counter.

After that, Marc took a long, hot shower, waiting until the water turned to freezing to slowly scrub the smeared, red stain off of his cheek. A sense of defeat washed over him; defeat, guilt, and anger. You weren't his. You never would be. He had no right to feel this way. And the more he told himself that, the worse he felt.

When Marc left the bathroom to grab a shirt from his room, you were standing in the kitchen with Mark, both of you so engulfed in each other's kiss that neither of you noticed him standing there.

Marc walked back to his room and slammed the door, finally pulling you back to reality. "Marc?" You called out, dashing over to knock on his door. "Hey! I'm sorry I didn't make it home last night. We fell asleep watching a movie." But you were met with absolute silence. "Marc?" You knocked on the door again, but still received no answer.

You felt two arms wrap around you from behind, followed by Marks face pressing against your neck. "Hey, I've gotta go."

"Okay. I'll see you tonight?" You turned around to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into another lengthy kiss.

"Definitely." He breathlessly whispered against your lips. "Unless I pay a visit to you around lunch?" He said with a smirk, his hand slipping down your back to grab your ass.

"Mark!" You squealed with a laugh, reluctantly pushing him away.

"I'll text you." Mark gave you one last kiss, then went on his way.

You rolled your eyes, a stupid smile stuck on your lips. You knocked on Marc's door once again, jiggling the lock this time. "Let me in Marc! I've gotta talk to you!"

Silence.

"Fine, I'll talk through the door." You slipped down to the floor and sighed. "Ughh, I think I'm in love. I just had the best night of my life with Mark. He took me to that fancy restaurant that I've been dying to try, then we went to his friend's house to have a game night, then we went back to his place to watch When Harry Met Sally. Amazing, right?"

Silence.

You reached up and knocked on the door again. "Are you mad because I didn't eat your weed brownies Marc Spector? Because now is not the time to be petty, my love!" You called out with a small giggle.

Silence.

"Well, I hope you come out later, because I'm getting us drinks to celebrate tonight! But for now I gotta get to class." You stood up and brushed off your dress, then pressed your hand against Marc's door. "I love you Marc. God, you're like the brother I never had. You're my best friend." After a moment of waiting for an answer, you walked away, a small pit of disappointment twisted around in your stomach when you were once again met with silence.

Once Marc heard your bedroom door shut across the dorm, he finally allowed the broken sob he had been holding in to come out. And once it was out, there was no stopping the others that followed it out, each one racking his body harder than the last.

Marc Spector had fallen in love with you, and he couldn't see a way out.

Taglist: @hot-mess-express1

#💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙thoughts #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #(mentioned)#marc spector imagine #marc spector fic #marc spector angst #marc spector x reader #marc spector x female reader #sad marc spector #oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac #oscar isaac hernandez estrada #moon knight fic #moon knight imagines #moonknight fanfiction #thanks for the ask!!

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shmowder · 2 months

Note

Piercing anon back again! I’ll admit my thoughts on Clara were 100% inspired by the fact as a teenager around her age I myself did my own piercing which ended about as well as one would expect it to end. Also didn’t even think of artemy with pierced ears but now I will never get it out of my brain and I shall consider it canon modern au artemy wears a single one in the right ear.

Speaking more on Daniil “prunde” dankovsky he also strikes me as the type who if someone he was with romantically had piercings he’d roll his eyes and go “well I guess they look acceptable on you” but I feel like he’d only really give that pass to minor piercings like a nose ring or maybe at the extremest snake bites but anything more crazier and he’s back to prudevsky mood. Not piercing related but I could see Clara in a modern setting where it’s possible doing stick and poke tattoos as well maybe I’m projecting a tad bit of Clara, I could also see Eva having a tattoo or two possibly but having since gotten them covered up or they just weren’t in a visible spot to even begin with.

sorry for rambling none of my friends aren’t in Patho and I have to let someone know about my in depth headcanons over this subject sorry 😭

PLEASE DO RAMBLE, PLEASE I BEG I WANNA HEAR MORE.

I mean really, you're apologising for rambling on the pathologic rambling blog? That's literally all I do in here. I absolutely love listening to what other people's ideas, and endlessly talking about my own.

God Artemy with a single earring is going to be the death of me, oh my god Artemy with a septum piercing. Just Artemy in general with any piercing... Artemy with a belly button piercing someone please take me to the back of the store and shoot me.

What kind of earring would he wear? Maybe a handmade one by the kin where it's weaved from swyrve and dried plants? maybe one in the shape of the steppe letters? since the Kin clothes ingame do use the letters as a print for their clothes. It could even be one his mother used to wear and Isidor kept save in a box as a memory, planning to give it to Artemy when he finally gets the Menkhu role.

Or maybe an earring that Murky and Sticky made for him from clay, dried rose petals and colourful stones. The options are so many.

And the right ear too 👀 That is so clever. Do you know who else would wear subtle queer signals? Yuilia. She would 100% have a single earring in her right ear. Prude Dankovsky even complains about her wearing pants and dressing like a man, which was uncommon for the type period.

Artemy probably picked up on the meaning from his days in the army where homosexaulity was more of an open secret between men. Daniil definitely knows the meaning but doesn't want to pierce his ears in order to wear one, he definitely uses other signals instead.

Prude Daniil definitely has some suppressed fantasies about piercings and tattoos, which make him seem disgusted by the notion. I'm just saying Daniil getting a glance at Artemy's belly button piercing or seeing your periced nipples poking under your thin shirt is all that it would take for him to see piercings under a new light.

When it comes to tattoos, I think Peter would be the best at giving them. I mean they still get infected, that man cares not for medical hygiene, but they look absolutely amazing at least.

The Kin might prefer non permanent tattoos. Something made from clay that stains the skin for a long while but washes out after a month or so, like henna! Artemy can give tattoos, but his art skils are worse than a 6y old attempting to write their name with a dry marker on a board for the whole class.

Eva would definitely want a matching tattoo with you, Andrey would, too. Maria wouldn't want it on her own body but she'll definitely get a rush from seeing her name tattooed on yours.

I like to think Alexander Saburov got a tattoo when he was a teenager that he is very embarrassed about and got removed while he was in the Capital, he denies that fact whenever an old person in town recalls the story of how angry his mother was the day she found out.

I think Nina had a tattoo, like a spider or a snake. But she kept convered up.

Aglaya probably has one too but not a willing tattoo? More like the inquisition symbol permanently marked somewhere on her back or arm. It's a very tiny symbol with a serial number. This symbol yk? Or it could be on her chest, directly on top of her heart.

Maybe in meta reality, it's her doll's brand and production number, and the only reason hers show on her body is because she is aware she is a doll. So the other's can't see it, much like they can't see how the whole town is made out of sand.

For Clara's stick and poke services, I see her being actually decent at art. Her lines are confident and it goes much smoother than her DIY piercing business. She does small doodles of animals mostly, the souls n half love it and ask for tattoos of their other halves aka pets.

You'd expect she gets busted a second time when one of the angry mothers drag her kid to Katerina Saburova to complain about what Clara did to her angel child. Except Katerina just asks Clara for a tattoo of her own, a small spider on her ring finger.

Capella 100% asks her for a tattoo of a butterfly or an infinitely symbol, any hipster tattoos you could think of.

Khan is... Khan is too scared of needles to ask for one. So he forbids the whole of dogheads from getting any.

#♧several characters

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salt-is-a-terrible-currency · 1 year

Text

Sore

Written for day 14 of the Narcos fandom smut alphabet over on @narcosfandomdiscord

Fandom: Narcos

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Words: 580

Pairing: Javier x OFC Aurora

Prompt: nipple play

Warnings: smut, postpartum, domestic fluff

It’s torture. He has to wait at least six weeks. Make no mistake, Javier loves the little girl currently screaming her head off in his arms with his whole being but let’s be honest: her arrival has also fucked up a lot of things. Their sleep, their personal hygiene and their sex life.

He’s conflicted, more than he has been in years. On the one hand, he is so utterly in awe of his wife and the life she’s carried that he wants nothing more than keep her in bed with him for a whole day and on the other hand he is aware of how long it’s been since either of them had a shower, and of how much pain she’s in. He fears that if he touches her, she’ll break. When she passes him in the kitchen - her braid falling apart and one of his mustard stained t-shirts hanging to midthigh on her - he tugs at her arm, beckoning her to stop for a second.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he says. She guffaws at him but steps into his arms all the same. His fingers find her chin, tips it up to meet him in first one kiss, then another and another.

“Javi,” she sighs. “God, you’re making this hard.” He almost says something vulgar about how she’s making something hard, the lack of sex apparently having reduced him back to some teenage sense of humor, but he simply groans into the spot below her ear instead. Her palms come up to rest at his chest and Javier stops, thinking he’s gone too far. Instead, he’s met by the sight of her worrying at her lip.

“I want to try something tonight,” she pauses, glances over at Amelia,”or whenever she stays down for more than ten minutes. If you’re up for it.”

⁂

She guides him into sitting back against the headboard.

“You first?” she asks, on her hands and knees in front of him. Javier shakes his head, reaches for the front of her shirt to tug her closer.

“You first,” he insists. Aurora pushes at the insides of his legs and he goes with it, opening up for her so that she can settle with her back to his chest. As much as it pains him, Javier keeps his hands at his legs. She’s going to guide him and he doesn’t want to get ahead of himself. Aurora’s fingers wrap around his wrist, leading his hand up under her shirt to cup one breast. Her hand shifts to cover his and shows him a gentle circling pattern, the pad of his thumb brushing over her nipple every now and then.

“Be careful,” she says,“I’m sore here too.”

“Of course.” He punctuates it with a kiss to the top of her head. Aurora removes her hand, leaving him to his own devices as he continues what she showed him. She leans back into him, sighs. He grows bolder then, letting his other hand wander up under her shirt and pelting along the way until it too is busy with her other nipple - matching the pace. When Aurora comes, she comes with a shiver and a loud moan that has them both pausing to see if their daughter will wake up. Amelia remains quiet, Javier silently thanking God for the fact. Aurora shifts out of his grasp, back onto her knees in front of him and reaches for the now uncomfortably hard bulge in his jeans.

“Now you.”

#nffalphabet #javier pena fic #javier pena x ofc #narcos fic

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set-phasers-to-whump · 2 years

Text

stabbed

prompt: stabbed (alt no.11)

whumpee: sonny carisi

fandom: law and order svu

hi here's a fic that i did not all plan on writing...it's been a hot minute since i've seen this show but i was trying to work out who i hadn't stabbed yet and well. that list is surprisingly short. so here we are! hope you enjoy :)

It happens with absolutely no warning. They’re canvassing an apartment building, checking to see if anyone has information on a young girl that’s gone missing from her grandmother’s apartment. He’s been given the top floor, and the grandmother lives on the second floor, so he’s not really expecting to find out much. Thus far all he’s learned is that the old guy in 603 likes to vacuum in the middle of the night, and that the couple in 615 has a dog even though pets aren’t allowed.

He stops in front of the last apartment on the left side of the hallway and knocks. A guy around his age answers the door.

“Have you seen this girl?” Sonny holds out the picture they’ve been given. The guy takes it, looks closely, then passes it back.

“I don’t think so. Something the matter?”

“She disappeared from her grandmother’s apartment on the second floor two days ago.”

“That’s terrible. But I’m sorry, I haven’t seen her.”

Sonny nods. “Thanks for your time.”

The man shuts the door and Sonny turns around to begin canvassing the other side of the hall. He comes face to face with a woman, also about his age, who is reaching into her purse, he assumes for her keys. She must live with the guy he’d just talked to.

“Hey, have you seen this girl?”

The woman looks at the picture, blinks. And then she pulls her hand out of her purse but instead of a key she has a knife and just like that she stabs him in the stomach.

The first thing he feels is complete shock - what the hell just happened? And then he looks down at himself and sees the blood soaking through his shirt and the pain hits him all at once.

He falls to the floor and the impact makes the pain even worse. It pulses through his torso, hot and sharp and overwhelming.

He lies there flat on his back for a few seconds, feeling the blood steadily soaking through his clothes, before slowly dragging himself up so he’s sitting against the wall. He has to focus, he tells himself. He knows what he’s supposed to do, in theory. Apply pressure. But with what?

He knows he’s not going to be able to remove any of his clothes. So he looks around for something else he can use, but only manages to establish the fact that he’s completely alone in this hallway. He briefly wonders whether the woman who’d stabbed him is inside her apartment, whether she’ll come back, but decides that’s a problem that can wait for later.

Having found nothing to use to apply pressure, he settles for simply using his hands. He presses a palm into the wound but almost immediately removes it. It’s far too painful and the sensation of blood soaking into his skin makes him dizzy.

He’s shaking, he realizes, looking down at his hand that is now stained bright red with blood. That’s not good. He stares at the hand for several seconds and tries to get it to stop shaking, to no avail. He should do something about this.

Call someone. The thought pops into his mind unbidden, and he wonders how he had managed to forget that he isn’t here alone.

He grabs his walkie talkie and presses the button.

“Hey, Lieu?”

Olivia’s voice comes through the speaker clearly. “Done already, Carisi?”

He exhales slowly, readjusts his grip on the walkie-talkie when it threatens to slide out of his shaking hand. “Not exactly.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Got stabbed.”

“What?”

“There was a lady…she had a knife. Took me by surprise.”

“Where are you?”

“Sixth floor.”

“Don’t go anywhere. I’m on my way.”

He doesn’t think he could go anywhere even if he wanted to. He leans his head back against the wall and lets the walkie talkie drop to the floor. He wishes that the pain would stop, or at least become more tolerable. But it’s still horribly present, pulsing with the same intensity that threatens to overwhelm him completely.

“Carisi!”

He opens his eyes - he hadn't even realized he’d closed them - and finds himself looking directly at his Lieutenant, crouched on the ground in front of him.

“Hey, Lieu.”

“A bus is on the way. How are you holding up?” she asks, taking off her jacket.

“Been better,” he answers. “I think the lady might still be inside. Didn’t see where she went.”

“Did she have red hair and a black jacket?”

He thinks for a second. “Yeah.”

Olivia sighs. “Fin saw her leave the building in a hurry a few minutes ago. She said she was late for spin class.”

“Hm,” Sonny says, eloquently. “Will you -”

Before he can finish his sentence, Olivia presses her balled-up jacket into his stomach, and it feels like someone has hit him with a baseball bat. All the air leaves his lungs in a rush and he has to grit his teeth to keep from making noise. White spots dance in the corners of his vision.

“Sorry, sorry,” is the first thing he hears, once the ringing in his ears dies down.

Sonny doesn’t say anything in reply, isn’t sure he’s even able to. He tries to take a steadying breath but it catches in his throat and turns into a sort of whine on the exhale.

Olivia grabs his hand. It’s the one covered in blood, and it’s still shaking, and he feels the need to apologize to her for both of these things but he still isn’t sure that he can speak. He’s too focused on breathing and on not letting the pain overwhelm him to the point of passing out.

“Just a couple more minutes,” she says, and if she’s bothered by the blood or the shaking she doesn’t show it. “You’re gonna be okay.”

And despite the horrible pain and all of the blood, he believes her easily.

thanks for reading! hope you enjoyed <3<3

#whumptober2022 #altno.11 #stabbed #law and order svu #fic #sonny carisi #my writing #i say things #fun fact this is my 200th work on ao3! which means it's like my 230-something work on here. wack.#anyway halfway thru the week...the end is in sight. we're gonna make it.

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