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azzo0 · 6 months ago

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Happy Mama Day

Summary: Touya and the kids surprise you for Mother's Day.

Contains: soft Touya, fluff, kids n sappy stuff

Pairing: Touya x f!reader

wc: 2.1k

Based on this idea.

Touya buried his face under a blanket when little hands slapped his cheek. A little girl's voice screamed at him excitedly to wake up. He opened his eyes slightly, sighing into the pillow when both his kids started jumping on the bed, singing, "Wake up! Wake up!"

"Daddy, Daddy, Keiko said it's Mama day today!" His son yelled, pulling the blanket off him.

"It's called Mother's Day, not Mama Day, Takeo." His daughter sassed, crossing her arms as if she knew some great secret her younger brother didn't.

"Stop jumping, Takeo. I'm up." Touya sighed, sitting up and running a hand through his snowy hair, disheveled from sleep. Takeo jumped into Touya's lap, making him let out an 'oomph.'

"Daddy, Keiko told me-" the three-year-old began. Sometimes, Toya was surprised by how fluently the child could speak since most three-year-old's he knew yapped in baby language. He talked to Rei about it, and she told him he used to be the same.

"Keiko-Nee." He corrected, his gaze shifting to his eldest. She excitedly crawled to him and sat on her knees excitedly. He ruffled her bright red hair and looked down at Takeo, "What did she tell you?"

"Keiko-Nee told me that her teacher told her it's Mama Day!" The boy exclaimed.

"Is it?" He hummed.

"Can we do something special for Mama when she gets back from work?" Keiko asked. "My teacher told me you can show your thanks to your mothers today! Let's do something special!"

"How do we show our thanks?" Takeo asked, tilting his head.

"We can make her cards and make her favorite food or buy her gifts!"

Takeo gasped and looked up at Touya with wide eyes, the same colour as yours, "Does that mean we can cook a cake?"

"Bake a cake," Touya threw the child over his shoulder and got off the bed, holding a hand out for Keiko. She took his hand and jumped off the bed, "Sure we can, but first you two need to eat breakfast, clean up your rooms, get ready for the day, do your homework and then we'll bake Mama a cake, okay?"

"It's not fair that I have homework and Takeo doesn't!" Keiko lamented, puffing her cheeks out.

"He does have homework. He has a colouring book to fill. Isn't that right, Taki?"

The three year old nodded his head even though he wasn't sure what 'homework' was. Touya took the kids downstairs and made them sit at the dining table. He went into the kitchen and put on the apron. He took out a few eggs and beat them up with milk and sugar. He dipped slices of bread inside the eggs and then fried them, keeping them a little soft because that's the way his babies liked it.

He took the plates out in the dining room, setting them in front of the kids, "Eat up."

"Thank you," the two chimed.

He sat across from Keiko and Takeo. He sighed when Takeo began breaking the bread into bits without putting them in his mouth. Touya quickly finished his breakfast and helped Takeo with his. After breakfast, the kids followed him upstairs so they could clean their bedrooms. Keiko was six, old enough to make her bed and tidy her room, but Takeo still needed help, given he was only three.

He folded Takeo's blanket and kept it in the crib while Takeo picked up the toys littered on the floor and dumped them in the toybox. Once Touya was done with Takeo's room, he went to Keiko's room, watching his daughter huff and puff as she folded her giant blanket all by herself. She turned to him after she was done, flexing her arms, "I did it by myself!"

"You did great, Keiko." He lowered his back with Takeo on his hip and kissed Keiko's hair. He took her hand and led the kids to the bathroom.

He put Takeo down, took Keiko's unicorn toothbrush, put a small amount of toothpaste on it and handed it to her. He then proceeded to put toothpaste on Takeo's smaller shark toothbrush. He gave him the toothbrush and watched him look up at his sister and try to imitate her. Touya smiled to himself and took his toothbrush hanging beside yours. He brushed his teeth along with his kids and then helped them wash their faces, making them giggle when he patted them dry.

"Cake time!" Keiko squealed, stomping downstairs with Takeo chanting 'cake' behind her.

"Homework first, you two." Touya reminded sternly.

"But I don't have school tomorrow. I can do it later!" Keiko whined, "And Taki's homework isn't even real homework! You just make him sit down and colour a bunch'a pages so you can watch soccer on the TV!"

Toya raised his eyebrows amusedly as Keiko tapped her foot on the floor impatiently. He let out a chuckle and turned to the kitchen, "Alright, alright. Just don't make a mess, okay?"

"Yes!!" She exclaimed, taking Takeo's hand and following after her father.

Touya helped Keiko and Takeo into little aprons and rummaged through the cabinets, looking for the cake mix he bought ages ago. It's not that he didn't know how to bake a cake from scratch, but with two kids involved, the kitchen was bound to get chaotic. He found a vanilla cake mix and took out a bowl and a hand beater, setting everything on the counter. He opened the flaps of the cake mix as the kids watched him excitedly. He took out a white coloured packet and cut it open with a pair of scissors.

"Can I put it in the bowl?" Keiko asked.

"Sure ya can. Come closer." He handed her the packet, and she carefully put the mix into the bowl. Keiko snatched the cake mix box and read the instructions, squinting her eyes as she tried to read the sentences.

"It says to... mix water, oil, 'n eggs with a mixer on... meedum...?"

"Medium," Toya corrected, encouraging her to go on.

"...speed or beat by hand for two minutes." She finished with a grin. Touya patted her hair and measured out the water and oil, which Takeo insisted he wanted to pour. Touya picked up Takeo so he could reach for the cups he had measured. He watched Takeo pick up the cup of oil in his chubby hands and empty it into the cake mix, followed by the water.

"You want to crack the egg?" Toya asked Keiko, smiling when she nodded excitedly. He showed her how to crack an egg and then handed her another one. She managed to crack the egg and let its contents fall into a bowl.

"Do we beat with an electric mixer or hand?" Keiko asked.

"Hand beater," Toya replied. He mixed the ingredients and then let Keiko take over for a little bit. Of course, Takeo didn't want to be left out and had to take a turn whipping the batter.

"And then we pop it in the oven," Touya transferred the batter into a cake pan and put it in the oven that had been preheating for some time.

"Daddy, while we wait, let's make Mama a birthday card!" Keiko exclaimed, pulling on his hand.

"I've got some cleaning up to do, Kei. You make one with your brother-"

"No! Don't you gotta wish Mom Happy Mother's Day too?" Keiko put her foot down and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Yes, let's make a mama card," Takeo added.

"Fine," Touya sighed, "Let's go make a mama card."

He sat on the floor in the living room with the kids. Keiko handed him and Takeo A4-size papers and let them use her sketch pens and colour pencils. She told him how to make a card, speaking as if she was giving away the world's darkest secret, "So, basically, you fold it in half like this, and then you write 'Happy Mother's Day' in fancy handwriting. You can make a drawing if you wanna, and then on the inside, you thank Mama for all she's done. Any questions?"

"No, ma'am, thank you." Dabi picked up a blue sketch pen and nudged Takeo, "Say thanks to your sister, Taki."

"Fanks."

Touya had never made cards for anyone before. Sure, he'd received plenty of sweet ones from you, but he never gave you one in return. He folded the paper in half and tried mustering up his fanciest handwriting, which turned out looking like a doctor's note. He picked up a red sketch pen and threw in a couple of hearts and smiley faces.

He moved on to the inside of the card, and that's where he got stuck. The green sketch pen hovered over the paper as he thought of what to put inside. He had so much he wanted to thank you for. Your love, your support and your kindness. The list went on and on. He glanced up from the paper to see Keiko beautifully decorating the card while Takeo went on a scribbling spree. He smiled softly at the kids and looked down at the paper. He knew just what to write.

You knocked on the door and yawned, bringing a hand to cover your mouth. It had been a long day at work, but you couldn't wait to greet your husband and kids and then spend some time together on the couch after dinner. You heard a few excited cries, and the door was thrown open.

"HAPPY MAMA DAY!!" Takeo screamed, hugging your leg.

"Happy Mother's Day!" Keiko exclaimed with a grin, hopping from foot to foot.

"Oh, my babies." You smiled and stepped inside, pulling them both in a hug. You kissed their cheeks and made them giggle. "Thank you so much."

"No, thank you for all you do, Mama! You're so cool!" Keiko beamed.

"So cool!" Takeo agreed.

"Okay, okay, let ya mama breathe." You looked up when you heard Touya's voice. His lips tugged up on the side in a smirk, "Hey. Happy Mama Day."

"Thank you," you laughed, kissing his cheek.

"We baked you a cake, and Papa made your favorite dinner!" Keiko exclaimed, "We also made you cards!"

"Mhm?" You took the card from Keiko and read through it with a stupid grin. You kissed her nose, "Aww, thank you, Kei. You're so sweet."

"Here is my mama card." Takeo waved his drawing in front of your face. You took it from him and gushed over the stick figures of him and you holding hands.

"It's lovely, thank you, Taki." You squished his cheeks together lovingly.

"Papa, where's your card?" Keiko asked.

"I didn't make any. What are you talking about?" Touya shrugged.

"Lies!"

Touya sheepishly revealed the hand in which he held the card. You got up from the floor and took the card, giggling at his messy handwriting adorned with hearts, flowers and smiley faces. It was so unlike him. You flipped it open and read it.

Happy Mama Day, wifey.

There's a lot I wish I could say to you more often, but putting it here feels easier. Thank you for all that you've done for me and our kids. Thank you for being by my side when nobody was and for holding my hand on sleepless nights and shooing away my nightmares. Thanks for dragging me out of my depressive episodes and taking me on ice cream dates. I'll never forget them. The ice cream was delicious, by the way.

Thank you for birthing our beautiful children. I'm so lucky to have you by my side to raise our kids. You're my definition of a blessing in human form.

With love,

Your handsome husband,

Touya

(P.S. You have a nice butt)

Your hands quivered as you read the note. Your eyes blurred with hot tears. They fell onto the card, and he pulled you into him and kissed your temple. You wrapped your arms around him and buried your nose in his chest, feeling his warmth seep into your skin, "Thank you, Touya."

"My words hit ya that deep? Maybe I should be a poet." He chuckled, combing your hair with his fingers.

"There's nothin' poetic about it." You muffled into his chest. You pulled away and pressed a kiss on his lips. His hand went to rest on your lower back as he leaned into you.

You were aware of the kids watching, so you pulled away and glanced back to see Keiko pretending to be very interested in the door handle while Takeo tugged at his sister's sleeve. You chuckled and held an arm open, "Come here, Keiko, Takeo."

You scooped up Takeo while Touya picked up Keiko. You let your head rest against Touya's shoulder, your heart brimming with joy and contentment, "I love my little family."

#touya fluff #dabi fluff #dabi x reader #touya x reader #touya todoroki x reader #dabi x you #mha x reader #dabi #azzo writes

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charliedawn · 4 months ago

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Can you write about the slashers finding out the nurse has a stalker? (That isn't them lol)

(Hi ! Sorry for the absence everyone. It has been a really busy year for me. But here you go ! Thank you for the request !)

Jack is usually pretty chill. He wouldn’t do anything at first if he saw the stalker didn’t bother anyone. But, if he saw that the stalker was starting to get a little too annoying ? He would make him get the message.

Jack would drape an arm over your shoulders and give the stalker the ‘Get out of my face’ look.

And if he still didn’t get the message ?

Then the stalker would unfortunately find his way down a flight of stairs—the express way.

You were sleeping when you heard someone open your window. You immediately turned on your lamp, but was surprised to find Patrick Bateman standing in the middle of your room.

He was covered in blood and lit up a cigar.

He took a deep puff and exhaled loudly.

You waited a few minutes before asking what he was doing here and why he was covered in blood. To which, he took his time to answer.

Patrick: "I apologise. I found a cockroach at your window."

You *look him up and down suspiciously*: "…Must have been one hell of a cockroach, huh ?"

Him *smirks* : "One BIG cockroach."

Bo: "Ssh…You the one who likes followin’ Nurse Y/N around, huh ? Ssh…Come on. We wouldn’t want to wake them up with your pussy screams, right ?" *proceeds to bust the stalker’s kneecaps*

Bo is the type of man to take action. He wouldn’t wait or warn you about the problem—but he would take care of it. Because he likes to be the man of the situation, the one who takes care of business and makes sure no one would be stupid enough to bother you.

So, let us just say that the stalker unfortunately didn’t make it.

"Oh oh oh. Naughty naughty stalker. You are one fffffunny human, ain’t ya ?!"

You woke up the next day with a pool of blood next to your bed. When you asked Penny about it, he replied with a large smile that he had a midnight snack.

You told Norman and asked for his opinion on what to do. He asked you to explain exactly what was happening and remained with a polite smile on his face as you proceeded to explain everything.

Once you were done, he still had a smile on his face. He wordlessly stood up, rolled up his sleeves and left for a couple of minutes before returning with an axe.

Your eyes widened and you tried to stop him, but too late. He stepped outside, knowing your stalker was probably waiting for you to get out of the house. The stranger was surprised when he saw Norman leave. It didn’t take Norman long to spot the stalker and without his smile leaving his face, he walked towards the stalker and swung his axe—barely missing the top of the stalker’s head.

"…If my baby girl/boy ever tells me you have been following her/him again…I won’t miss."

And with that, Norman went back into the house—humming a happy tune…while the stalker was left on the ground with his pants soiled upon having the scare of his life.

Pennywise was being his usual annoying and sarcastic self when he noticed someone following you from a distance. He didn’t care at first…not until he read the guy’s thoughts. And what he found in there ? It was enough to make his usual smile falter.

After that day, he decided to teach the guy a lesson. He hence took your appearance for a day and lured your stalker away from anywhere where they could be seen. And when he was sure there was no one around ? He took back his appearance and in one second, gulped down the stalker.

Literally.

No more stalker. Pennywise didn’t even leave the bones behind.

Brahms noticed from the start. Of course he did. Brahms used to be a stalker himself. But, your stalker was not a professional stalker and Brahms didn’t take him all that seriously at first. Besides, who was he to judge ?

But then…He hurt you. He took pictures of you. He kept them to himself, and Brahms felt as if it was getting exhausting for you.

And Brahms could not take it anymore.

One night as you were sleeping, the stalker crept into your room as per usual, but Brahms was waiting for him this time. And before he could approach your bed, Brahms took the stranger by the neck and held him above the ground. The stranger’s feet kicked the air…until they didn’t move at all.

Brahms let his body fall to the floor. He then proceeded to drag him out of your room—unaware that you had been awake the whole time. You closed your eyes and let go of the knife you had been clenching in your hand.

…

Jason noticed that one of the nurses was following you around. At first, he didn’t do anything as it seemed that you weren’t all that bothered by it. But then, he realised that you weren’t smiling as often anymore and that you would occasionally take pills to help with the tiredness (having a stalker meant really little sleep since you knew they were watching you.)

And finally, the stalker hurt you. He saw a bruise around your wrist and that…That he couldn’t handle.

At his arrival in St Louis, his machete was confiscated, but he was hired by a domestic furniture company to do mandatory work. And guess what is in high supply in his place of work ? That’s right. Wood and nails. Jason built himself a wooden mace with nails. Poor stalker ended up in a ditch around the hospital…his whole body smashed and mushed.

The moment Michael Myers would get a whiff of that stalker near you, he would become a permanent wall between you and the stalker. Your own watcher and bodyguard. The stalker would become the observed. Michael wouldn’t sleep or eat while the stalker is still there. And the moment they would meet ? Myers would make him regret ever being birthed into the same world as him…

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #pennywise 1990 #pennywise 2017 #slashers #pennywise x reader #michael myers x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #jason voorhees x reader #jack torrance x reader #norman bates x reader #patrick bateman x reader

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uniquedinosaurdreamland · 11 months ago

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Ingrid Engen & Mapi León x Reader

-Annoying-

yay (kind of hate the ending but lol)

Ingrid Engen & Mapi León x Reader -Annoying- 🩷

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“Who pissed in your coffee this morning sunshine?” Lucy smirked as she caught sight of you walking into the change room with a scowl covering your face. “Where are the other two, thought you guys were attached at the hip.” Lucy continued to tease.

“I can’t deal with Mapi right now, so I am going to stay far away from her otherwise I will kill her.” You said to your national teammate trying to control your emotions and stay calm. The morning started like any other waking up between your two girlfriends, engulfed in warmth until you all had to get up and get ready for training.

You don’t know why but Mapi had woken up in an extra annoying mood and her sole purpose was to make you want to pull your hair out. She knew how much you hated to be poked and tickled so all she had been doing those exact things, in the bathroom, when you were making coffee, when you just passed each other in your morning routines and even when you were walking down the stairs causing you to almost slip as well as lose your shit. Mapi had also turned to making fun of your height, you were only a few centimetres shorter then the older women but that was enough for her.

You had grown up with three older brothers who took pride in how ticklish you were and who sit on you and poke and prod until you couldn’t breathe. They had traumatised you so much that you hated anyone even making the movement of poking or tickling as it made you squirm. Yet Mapi didn’t care, loving your pouting face when she did it.

She had riled you up so much you had decided to drive yourself to training instead of getting driven by Ingrid. “You're an idiot.” Ingrid directed to Mapi, shaking her head as she watched you pull out of the driveway.

“Come on, it was just a joke, Corazón.” Mapi said, trying to defend herself.

“You know how much Y/N hates you poking and tickling her, and yet you continued.” Ingrid replied, grabbing her keys from the counter to take the other car to training since you had taken the main one.

“She’ll get over it.”

You in fact did not ‘get over it’ instead you worked hard to ignore your Spanish girlfriend through the entire training session, moving away when she stood too close, ignoring her calls from across the field, deciding to only speak to the older woman when you were placed on the same team for a game at the end of training.

Ingrid watched from the sidelines with Frido and Keira sat on either side of her, she laughed lightly as you scored a goal moving to high five your team members except for Mapi who had her hand up for you only to get brushed. “What's up with your girls?” Frido asked.

“Mapi was annoying Y/N and now Y/N won’t speak to Mapi so I’m just leaving them to sort it out, like always.” The three watched as Mapi ran by you pushing out a finger to hit your side, you scowled, hitting her hand away while Mapi smirked back winking.

“At the World Cup Ella and Alessia tried to tickle Y/N, she almost killed them. Lucy can vouch for me, she was the one having to hold little miss sunshine back from strangling them.” Keira said remembering the time you had been napping on one of the couches at national camp and Ella and Alessia had woken you up by tickling you under your arms and around your neck.

“Mapi needs to learn when to stop and she will learn her lesson once she takes it too far. Y/N did grow up with three older brothers.” Ingrid said shrugging her shoulder, she’d seen enough of Mapi teasing you and she knew you always got the last laugh.

Not even a minute later Mapi had snuck up on you and proceeded to tickle you, you let out a scream as you tried to get out of her tight grasp. You had finally been pushed over the edge and once you finally got out of her grip you turned around using all your force to tackle your Spanish girlfriend to the ground. Mapi wasn’t a typically ticklish person but you knew of the one spot on her neck that was very ticklish.

So with Mapi’s arms pinned under your knees your hands made their way to that spot that made the defender laugh and squirm underneath you. Mapi begged you to stop, being too weak from being tickled to throw you off. After a few moments she finally mustered the strength to get her arms from under your knees to grab your waist and flip you over onto your back.

“Calm down mi amor.” Mapi laughed as she now had your hands pinned down.

“I hate you.” You said through gritted teeth.

“I am sorry I have been annoying you. I will stop now if you calm down.” Mapi said looking down at you with her signature smirk plastered on her face.

“I hope you know I will get you back.” You stared back up at her as she got off you offering you her hand to be pulled up.

“I’m sure you will Cariño.” The slightly taller woman said, pressing a soft kiss to your hairline, smirking as she noticed you trying to hide your smile at the action. The whistle had been blown to end the game without you two realising so you both started to walk to your other girlfriend who stood talking with Frido and Keira waiting for you both.

Mapi stopped to talk as you grabbed a water bottle to drink from, before you made your way to the locker room you had one last plan. Turning to Mapi once again who had her back faced to you, you put your foot up and pushed it into the back of her knee successfully giving her a dead leg. You laughed loudly as her knee crumbled, with the mix of the dead leg and the hard training session her leg wasn’t working.

You weren’t sticking around to deal with Mapi’s annoyance, ignoring her colourful language and laughing as Ingrid hit her on the back of the head running to fall into step with Lucy. You were quick to move to the shower once you got back to the locker room. You had finished getting dressed in your (Ingrid’s) hoodie and some shorts.

“You are annoying.” Mapi said as the three of you said your goodbyes and moved to the parking lot to head home.

“I know.” You smiled back. “But I’ll go get some stuff for dinner on the way home, so you can’t stay mad at me.” You said as you walked to the car you had taken while Ingrid and Mapi walked to the other one.

Starting the car and pulling out, sending light smiles to the fans that were hanging around the entrance. Your shopping trip was quick, grabbing the last few things to make your mum's famous soup recipe before making your way back home. Quickly grabbing your training bag and shopping bags from the boot you unlocked your front door and headed into the kitchen.

Blowing a kiss to Ingrid who sat on the couch reading a book, not knowing where your other lover was but just figured she was in your shared room somewhere. Not having to start dinner for another two hours you put all the groceries away before moving to the couch flopping down so your head was sat on Ingrid's lap.

“Hei Kjære.”(Hello Darling) Ingrid smiling down at you moving to press a soft kiss to your lips, you smiled against hers as she pulled away to continue her book. You smiled as Bagheera jumped up onto your lap, your fingers threaded themselves though his fur getting a satisfied purr from the cat.

You were too focused on Bagheera to notice Mapi finally made her way from the bedroom to the lounge. The older woman smiled at the scene in front of her before moving to take Bagheera away. “Hey, give me my precious boy back.” You whined as Mapi moved the now sleeping cat to his bed.

“No cause you need to hug tu novia.”(your girlfriend) Mapi smiled, moving to lay down.

“You're annoying though.” You looked up at her teasingly.

“Lástima.”(Too bad) Mapi said before running full speed ahead to launch herself on top of you. Immediately burying her head into your neck, your hands made their way up her hoodie to scratch her back lightly.

“Why can’t you get along like this all the time.” Ingrid said, looking down at the two of you.

“Because my love, Maria is like a child she needs attention all the time and she thinks in order to get the attention she wants she has to poke and tickle.” You smiled up at your Norwegian lover, Mapi didn’t seem to like your comment as she grabbed onto your sides and dug into them with her fingers.

You immediately tried to get her off and you did which meant that Mapi was now on the ground. “I take it back.” Ingrid mutters under her breath as she once again watches the two of you get into a play fight. Which ends up with you over Mapi’s shoulder as she pokes you in the stomach over and over.

“STOP PLEASE STOP.” You yelled.

“Say I am the best most amazing person ever.” Mapi said, stopping her movements for a moment.

“No.” You squealed again as Mapi started to poke you again, not letting you move down from over her shoulder as you banged on her back. “Fine, you are the best most amazing person ever. Happy.” And with that you were placed back on your feet.

“Very.” Mapi looked down at you, as you moved to get out of her grip and return to your position on the sofa she pulled you in and connected your lips. Mapi moved to deepen the kiss, your legs feeling weak as she squeezed your hips, but before she would get carried away you pushed her away gently.

“I have to get dinner ready.” You said simply pecking her lips one more time before moving to the kitchen, Mapi happily making her way over to Ingrid to cuddle into her side.

You spent the rest of the night eating and watching a new movie that Ingrid had picked out, you were first to call quits and head to bed finishing your night routine before hopping into bed while your lovers finished the movie. An hour later the movie finished and Ingrid and Mapi headed up to bed, catching sight of you snuggled into the sheets made their hearts flutter.

Ingrid climbed into her side on the left after she was finished, closely followed by Mapi who took her side on the right on either side of you. Ingrid and Mapi’s hands intertwined over your waist as Ingrid snuggled into your neck and Mapi pulled your head gently to rest on her chest, the three of you now in a deep sleep tired from the fun but annoying day you had.

#woso x reader #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #barcelona femeni #fc barcelona #lionesses #lucy bronze

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ghosts-to-reid · 1 month ago

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Angelic

Request: hey so i saw ur ask are open and i wanted to request a reid x f reader. Like really angsty. they are both bau agents and reader is about to go on a risky mission and spencer has a nightmare about reader dying and in his dream Hes holding dead reader. And he wakes up and she is still next to him. fluffy ending. Sorry if this is too much😭😭 Anon

TW: Death, Injury.

SPENCER REID REQUESTS OPEN

The unsub ducked into a warehouse, Hotch barked orders to split up, you and him entering through the front whilst he and Derek entered around back. Drawing your guns, Spencer went in before you instinctively, shielding you.

The air was thick as you both listened for any sign of the unsub. He had been elusive, a horrific murderer who kidnapped women, forcing them to play the role of mother, until eventually he killed them. He had been escalting just slowly enough to have been doing thid for 20 years without suspicion, only being picked up on VICAP now due to his frequency of crimes turning from one woman a year to one a month. It was unknown what his current victim count was.

Spencer turned the left corner of a hallway, whilst you turned to the right, attempting to clear them before proceeding. However, the unsub had the element of surprise, springing to shoot you, grazing the artery in your neck. He fled before you hit the ground, but Spencer didn't pursue.

"We need medic to the west hallway now! Agent down! Suspect fleeing to west entrance!" He barked down his ear reciver before falling to his knees to grab you desperatly.

He cradled your head onto his lap, pleading with you desperatly as you gurgled, grabbing at him. He pressed his hand to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding the best he could. His eyes blured with tears.

"No please no baby..." He sobbed desperatly to you, your eyes were brimming with panic, and confusion

"Spencer..." You weakly managed to gurgle, grabbing his arm.

"Baby no.. no... HELP! HELP ME!" He screamed desperatly, pleading for anyone to do what he cant.

Eventually, your grip on his arm began to loosen, fear struck his heart as he watched you go limp, any life that remained draining from your eyes.

"No. No! You need to hang on! Help is coming... Help is..." He began to sob, the cries wraking his body as he help onto your now, limp body. He was soaked in your blood, still warm. He despertly whispered into your hair, begging you to please wake up but it was too late.

He sat up to scream, and suddenly he was no longer at the warehouse. He was breathing heavily, suddenly in the pitch black warmth of his bedroom. He looked around frantically, he was in bed. In his house. He broke out of any remaining trance when he felt your weight shift next to him.

He turned slowly to see you sleeping peacefully, face angelic in the dim light of the moon. His fears melt away as he takes in the sight of your hair loosley spread along the pillow, and he softly reached to move a stray strand from your face. Yous tirred, waking slightly at his touch, looking up at him with adoration.

"C'mere..." You spoke with sleepfilled vocie asyou reached your arm out tiredly to hold him. He smiled, moving to hold you, tighter than you had expected.

"Everything okay?" You mutter softly into his shoulder, all he does is nod sfotly, placing many soft kisses to your collar bone.

"Perfect, everythings perfect..."

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds prompts #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine

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ckret2 · 4 months ago

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Chapter 62* of the first day of the rest of human Bill Cipher's life—he's back in the Mystery Shack but whether or not he's a prisoner anymore is up in the air, he's proven he knows how to escape, and the Pines have proven they don't want to execute him anymore. For now. How's he gonna celebrate?

With back pain! That's what you get from half a week of running around in the woods ignoring all your body's pain signals.

But at least it can't get worse.

This chapter is book compatible but book spoiler free! The fic won't remain spoiler free, but while I figure out how to incorporate the new info in the fic, we're proceeding with pre-written chapters unaltered.

[*you may notice chapter 61 is missing! This plot was done sooner, so I'll be posting chapter 61 sometime after 64. It's not chronological so you're not missing anything!]

####

Soos was awakened by Melody as she thrashed and sucked in a gasp like a scream. Groggily, Soos said, "Babe? You okay?"

She rolled over, grabbing for his arms with trembling hands. "Soos—"

"I've got you." He half sat up with a sleepy groan and pulled Melody into his embrace. She pressed her face into his chest with a sigh. As he stroked her hair, her breathing slowly steadied out again.

"M'good," Melody said. "Sorry I woke you."

"Don't worry about it, babe. Always happy to cuddle." He yawned. "Sleep paralysis again?"

"Yeah," Melody sighed.

For as long as Melody could remember, she'd had sleep paralysis nightmares: nights where she'd wake up and find she was unable to move any part of her body but her eyes, and a monster escaped from her worst dreams was lurking in the room. Shadowy figures with glowing eyes, twisted demonic representations of her least favorite teachers, hunched hags with claws extending out of tattered robes—for three years, it had looked like a werewolf-mummy from an old horror movie that terrified her as a child—filling the doorway, or silhouetted in the window, or standing perfectly straight in the corner with neck tilted sideways as though it were broken, or staring hungrily down at her from the ceiling with bulging eyes, or crawling up from the foot of the bed and over her body to grab her throat.

The first time she spent the night with Soos, she'd warned him about her sleep paralysis; but for the past year, she'd never had a nightmare while sleeping in the Mystery Shack. She'd even been completely free of them for several months—something subconsciously reassuring about having her fiancé next to her, probably—until their unwelcome house guest moved in and she'd gone back to sleeping at her aunt's house in town.

And now she was even having them in the shack.

"This is the third time in less than a month," Soos asked. "Same one as usual?"

"Mhm."

"I couldn't protect you this time," Soos said mournfully. "I have failed you as your knight in shining armor... Maybe I need shining armor. Do you think they make like, shiny silver spandex pajamas?"

Melody laughed. "Soos, you goofball." She hugged him tighter. "It's fine. I always get sleep paralysis more when I'm stressed. And the situation in the shack's been... well..."

"Yeah," Soos sighed. "I know." She didn't need to tell him what part of "the situation" was stressing her out.

For the past year, ever since Weirdmageddon—which she'd been just unlucky enough to catch live on a weekend trip to visit Soos—her sleep paralysis demon had looked like Bill Cipher.

She'd told Soos this last fall, and in a panic he'd told her that Bill was a dream-invading demon; and for a moment they'd feared this meant Bill had found a way back. But no—according to Soos, Bill was a real chatterbox, and he was always doing something if he invaded your dreams. The thing Melody saw acted like any of her other nightmares: creepy. Standing on too-long legs at the end of the bed; giving off sickly yellow light she could see through her eyelids; staring at her with one bloodshot eye; crawling onto her chest with claws like gnarled black branches. It was just an unlucky coincidence that the real Bill had been a dream demon, and just an unlucky coincidence that being petrified by an eye-bat felt so much like sleep paralysis.

Ironically, now she had confirmation that her nightmares didn't mean Bill was back—because, when Bill did come back, her nightmares hadn't changed.

"My subconscious just hasn't caught up to the fact that you guys finally executed him," Melody said, getting comfortable to go back to sleep. "The good news is, the real Bill's gone and we never need to worry about that again."

"Oh," Soos said. "Um. By the way. The craziest thing happened at like one in the morning."

####

Bill was creeping upstairs to bed when he heard Melody shout, "He's WHAT?!"

He had to clap a hand over his mouth to keep from bursting out giggling.

####

Bill was getting better at using his other eyes in his sleep, even when he hadn't chemically connected himself to them. His range wasn't very far yet. From inside the shack, all he could feel was his hoodie, his new necklace, a handful of drawings Mabel had done, and four blankets of his zodiac wheel: two in the kids' room, one in Soos's, and one in the dark.

Around eight in the morning, Mabel was still sleeping comfortably and Dipper was staring at the ceiling worrying; all was right with the world. He only glanced into Soos's room long enough to overhear Melody, "—I'm not mad at you, I'm just mad about the whole situation. I mean, I'll adjust, but still—" before moving on, uninterested in listening to a cutesy couple reassuring each other.

The fourth blanket was in some tight dark container—leather?—but he could hear a muffled voice: "If Bill's staying here on a long term basis, we need to renegotiate... almost everything about his captivity." That was Ford. It was gratifying to know that even when Bill was asleep, the whole household was thinking about him.

"Yeah, you're right," Stan sighed. "We can't just let him keep sleeping on a couple of cushions. We haven't been able to use that couch all summer." There was the sound of a zipper and the lid over the zodiac blanket swung up, revealing Stan standing above.

Ford said, "And trying to get him to sleep in the living room is a lost cause. He says he needs to sleep in a room where he can see the stars."

A guilty look crossed Stan's face. "Right. That's probably it." He pushed the zodiac blanket aside, pulled out a t-shirt, and shut the suitcase again. "We could get—I don't know—an inflatable mattress or something..."

"There's an unused mattress in the basement, isn't there? Maybe we could haul it up." (It wasn't a terribly comfortable mattress. But Bill supposed they only wanted to give him the bare minimum so they could get their precious couch cushions back.)

"I'll ask Soos about it," Stan said. "Well, let's get this over with."

That was Bill's cue to wake up. He'd like to look alert when they came for him. Negotiations ought to go in his favor; he could still threaten suicide if their terms felt too restrictive—or even just threaten to escape, he could do that now if he didn't like their terms!—but they couldn't threaten to kill him anymore. He wondered if he could get phone privileges...

He opened his eyes. He was laying on his left side, the window at his back. He tried to push himself upright.

Sharp pain exploded in the left side of his back. He gasped, collapsing on his side. The pain clawed over his left shoulder, inside his arm, up his neck, across to his right shoulder blade, down nearly to his hips. His entire body tensed around the pain.

He let out a weak, wheezy laugh. (He could feel his ribcage contracting as he exhaled.) That was truly exquisite pain.

All right. He shouldn't be surprised by this. He'd spent four of the last five days tromping through forests and mountains and three of the last five nights getting next to no sleep, including two nights in a thin sleeping bag. The last couple of days, he'd hiked all over creation carrying two fully-loaded backpacks, in a body that had gotten next to no exercise for the past month and probably hadn't been designed for hiking in the first place. And on top of all that, first he'd thought the Axolotl was coming to arrest him and then that the Pines were going to kill him—and human bodies handled emotional stress very poorly. Not to mention whatever the heck had happened when three-fourths of his body had simply stopped working for an hour.

He'd ached for days. He'd simply kept pushing himself through it all, because this stupid weak human body didn't get the luxury of rest when Bill's life and death were on the line.

Apparently, that was all the pushing it could take. Now he felt like someone had shoved a knife in his back and twisted the muscles up around the blade like twirling a forkful of spaghetti. (Oh, that sounded delicious. One more brilliant idea to implement when he restarted Weirdmageddon: spinal muscle spaghetti. Freshly grated parmesan, maybe a little pesto.)

It was difficult even to breathe—that little motion was enough to make his back muscles squeal in pain. He had to carefully move his hips and right arm in tiny motions to let him roll onto his back while roiling up his pained muscles as little as possible; and then he just as carefully rolled onto his right side, his back to the room. The human body was such a fascinatingly complex interconnected thing, crisscrossed with puppet strings that all tugged each other; no matter what part of his body he moved, somehow it managed to yank on something in his upper left back. He curled his left arm against his chest and squeezed his elbow with his right arm, trying to find a way to tense the rest of his body that reduced the tension on his back.

He heard the door to Mabel and Dipper's room open. For lack of a better plan, he shut his eyes and tried to look natural as they passed him on the way to the stairs. Like heck was he about to let the kids know he was in pain, much less ask them for help. He doubted he was severely injured—he combed through his knowledge of human anatomy—probably just a muscle spasm. It would reduce in a few hours; and then he could make his way downstairs and figure out how to convince someone to get him an ice pack out of the freezer without betraying that anything was wrong. For now, he just had to lay down, try to find a position that didn't stab into his revolting muscles, and wait...

Downstairs, Stan bellowed, "Hey, demon! Get down here!"

Right. What were the odds Bill could make it downstairs and fake that he wasn't in agonizing pain in front of the Pines family? Could he suppress those winces convincingly? He tried to sit up.

And immediately fell to his side again with a gasp. In spite of his breathtakingly self-destructive willpower, he physically couldn't force himself to sit upright. Why not! What was the point?! He didn't mind the pain half as much as his body did, and he thought he should be the one in control here!

Stan hollered, "BILL!"

His voice cracked, "Later!" Ugh. Good thing he'd gotten in his dramatic return last night. He suspected that was the last time he'd look cool for a while.

####

Soos was just emerging from the bedroom when he heard Stan shouting, "I said get down here, Cipher!"

There was a long pause before the reply came from upstairs: "Can't!"

"I WASN'T ASKING!"

"ME NEITHER."

Something was up. Bill always talked a little too hard—not always loud, but hard—as though he were trying to carry on a regular conversation over a strong wind; but Soos thought something about his voice seemed even more forced today. Almost strained.

Soos heard Stan and Ford talking quietly as they headed up the stairs—"...sounds off, do you think he's injured?" "I can't imagine how, if he'd been up this morning we would have heard him banging around..."—and he followed them up.

At the top of the stairs, Stan demanded, "Well? What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong with me." Bill was curled up on his usual cushion bed. He didn't even turn to look at them. "Just—let me sleep in. Am I not allowed to sleep in? It's not like I have a job." Now that he wasn't straining to shout, his voice sounded even more pained—barely more than a tight whisper.

"All right, fine. Nothing's wrong with you," Ford said. "Then what's wrong with your body?"

Bill chuckled weakly in defeat. "Back's in too much agony to do its job, so I'm giving it the day off."

"Oh, dude," Soos said sympathetically. "Back pain is the worst. One time, I messed up my back after carrying a bunch of boxes between the museum and the attic? Yeah, it was pretty bad for like, a day. I was kinda crying, because it hurt, but also because I had to miss work, and I felt awful about it—but then I remembered the Mystery Shack was closed that day, and I wasn't missing work. So I went to sleep."

Stan and Ford stared expectantly at Soos.

"That's it, that's my whole anecdote."

"Riveting," Bill said flatly. "Did you invite everyone up here to stare at me?" With great difficulty, he pulled his bedsheet up over his head, leaving only a pile of golden curls visible. "Anyway. I'd love to come downstairs—really, I'm famished—buuut my back won't cooperate, and I can't tell you how furious I am about laying on the ground like an idiot at the feet of three of my captors, so if. you. all. would. leave. Please." The "please" came out sounding like the final word of a hex.

Soos winced. Oh, yeah, he supposed being stuck on the floor in front of a bunch of guys you didn't like was pretty embarrassing. He looked toward the stairs and shifted his feet, waiting for the Stans to make a move that direction.

But instead they huddled up to discuss. Stan muttered, "Think he's faking?"

"Why would he?" Soos asked.

Ford murmured, "Soos is right—unless he's that desperate to sleep in, I can't think of a reason he'd lie. He had some... muscular issues after the eclipse—and who knows what he's been up to the last couple of days..." Ford raised his voice, "This isn't the same thing as after the eclipse—?"

"No, just garden variety human back pain," Bill said quickly. "I assume it's garden variety. I've never had back pain before."

"Can you tell what muscles it is?"

"Ugh." Bill let out a shaky sigh. "Pain's... generalized, but... top suspect is the latissimus dorsi. Next guess is the erector spinae group."

"What," Stan said.

Ford nodded like he knew what Bill was talking about. Which he probably did, Soos figured. Doctor and all. "Probably not a severe injury, then. It likely just needs rest—"

Irritably, Bill snapped, "Like I said."

"Great," Stan said. "Then I don't care anymore." He headed downstairs. "Lemme know when the demon can walk again."

Soos and Ford exchanged an awkward look, silently debating whether to follow suite. Ford turned to Bill and cleared his throat. "What do you want for breakfast."

Bill groaned and muttered, "Probably can't use utensils. Whatever, just—bacon and toast and the strongest painkillers in the house."

"All right." Ford headed downstairs.

That struck Soos as inadequate. Trailing after Ford, he said, "Dude, Bill's in so much pain he can't even sit up. Shouldn't we offer to call a doctor or something?"

Ford said, "Knowing Bill, he'd rather die."

Soos considered that. "I'm gonna offer it anyway." He backtracked enough to get his head above the attic floor. "Hey Bill, do you want us to call a doctor or something?"

"I'd rather die."

"Haha, okay! Welp, glad I checked."

But as he headed down to the kitchen, something about the situation still bothered Soos.

Ford was already laying out bacon in a frying pan. "Soos, could you get the painkillers?" he asked. "We should probably give him individual pills rather than the whole bottle. When he got his hands on the cold medicine, he used it to get crossfaded with cider and to drug a wild animal."

Soos winced. Ouch, was that the cold medicine he'd given Bill? (He wondered when Ford had learned the phrase "crossfaded.")

"Hey... didn't Bill say he was famished?" Soos asked. "Is it kinda weird he's just asking for bacon and toast?"

It took Ford a long moment to answer. He didn't look up from the bacon. "I... suppose he's too proud to ask for anything more complicated."

"Why wait for him to ask, then? Just make him some more stuff anyway?"

Ford shook his head. "He'd be insulted."

Ford had been right about Bill's reactions so far, but— "Okay, fine. Then I'll bring it upstairs and insult him. He'll be insulted and fed. What do you think he'll eat?"

Ford glanced at Soos. Soos thought the look was grateful.

####

Apparently, Bill's age looked a little bit different to everybody. Soos had first found out when Abuelita mentioned that Bill looked like one of those ladies she saw at bingo night who were clearly 60-something, but had had a little too much work done—makeup, facial injections, hair dye. The sort who never really looked younger, but rather just gave off the impression that they were terrified of looking older.

So Soos had asked Mabel, and she said that Bill looked like he was in his mid-20s—about Soos's age, maybe a little older. He'd asked Dipper, and Dipper said he had no idea—to him, Bill never really looked quite convincingly human, more like an alien wearing a human rubber mask—but if he had to take a guess at the age the rubber mask was supposed to portray... like, middle-age-ish? Parent-middle-age-ish? Maybe 40-something? 40-something. Melody had had a hard time as well, but eventually settled on early 30s—the age you imagined a snotty Silicon Valley startup CEO would be.

Which was all very fascinating to Soos.

Because to him, Bill looked eighteen. Exactly eighteen.

At 23, Soos was just reaching the age where 18-year-olds stopped looking like peers and started looking like babies. Eighteen was "you know this is what an adult looks like, but it takes you by surprise almost every time" age. Eighteen was "you wouldn't be surprised to see this face behind a counter working as a barista, but you'd be a little alarmed if you overheard them talking about paying rent" age. Eighteen was "they can be all alone in the world making their own decisions and it's technically okay, but if they are, then someone failed them" age.

To him, Bill looked like somebody who'd been flung callously out into the world before his time—unprepared, overwhelmed, and alone.

Soos knew Bill was older than the whole universe or whatever. He knew that Bill was the guy who'd tried to take over the Earth. But he wasn't that guy now. Look at him. He shouldn't have been worried about imprisonment or world domination or getting executed. He should have been making pocket change working at the mall food court over summer break and playing Dancy Pants Revolution at the arcade with other recent high school grads and making puppy eyes at all the small business owners in town until somebody offered him a minimum-wage full-time job and sneaking into the movie theater on Saturday mornings.

Soos was finding it more and more impossible to see Bill as the enemy, much less as some incomprehensible alien. He had cousins who looked like Bill. Slap a pair of sunglasses over his freaky eyes and try to ignore that his body proportions were just a bit unnatural, and he could blend right into a Ramirez family portrait. Just another post-high-school pre-college kid in the middle of the transition from skinny teen to fat adult that most Ramirez women went through by 30. His neon yellow hair would fit right in beside Reggie's little sister's current neon red dye job.

From the moment Bill temporally poofed into the Mystery Shack on June 1 with a Pony Heist bedsheet toga and an ineffective vengeance plot, he'd been going through the physical and emotional wringer. Soos got it, of course Bill was having a bad time, he was a prisoner because he was a danger to the whole universe. And being human for the first time was probably tough. One time Soos was stuck in a pig's body and that was rough, and it was only for one day and at least Soos had still been a mammal. It was probably inevitable that Bill was having a bad time.

But it bothered Soos, seeing somebody in his house who was so miserable. And it bothered him that no one else seemed very bothered.

He loved the Pines family—he'd reverse-adopted Stan as his dad and he'd give his life for any one of them—but part of him had to wonder whether they'd be more bothered by witnessing the hell Bill was going through if he looked like he could be part of their family.

####

"Hey dawg!" Soos hefted up the tray as he entered the attic. "Breakfast!"

Bill was still buried under his bedsheet. "Stanford couldn't be bothered to come up himself?"

"I wanted to bring it!"

Bill grumbled something inaudible. He'd made no secret of the fact that he disdained Soos, although Soos had no idea why. When a human looked down on Soos, he had a couple guesses; but he didn't know what an alien could judge him for. Was it the British dog man nightmare? Was Bill insulted by Soos's 10th grade geometry grades?

But Bill didn't protest, so Soos scooted around his makeshift bed to set the tray down on the floor in front of him. "Uh... feel better, dude. Hey, you know—if sleeping on the floor is hurting your back, the fold-out sofa in the living room is still totally available. Just, in case you wanna—"

"Not interested," Bill said. "Buzz off, Questiony."

"Okay." He'd offered.

Soos was almost back to the stairs when Bill said, "What is all this stuff?"

"It's breakfast!" The tray included bacon, a toasted sandwich, a drink with one of those straw that bent in the middle so Bill didn't have to sit up all the way up to drink it, a pre-opened chip bag, and a pre-opened pill bottle. (Soos had elected to ignore Ford's advice that they mete out painkillers one pill at a time. If they gave Bill individual pills, he'd have to ask for more when they wore off, and Soos suspected he'd rather choose to suffer.)

"I didn't ask for this."

"Well, I thought you might want some other stuff."

"I don't."

Surprise! Bill was insulted. Soos didn't understand how he could be insulted by some extra food for breakfast—he's still gotten his bacon and toast—but all right, fine, Soos had been warned. "Oh, okay. Just don't eat anything you don't want."

Bill grunted in response.

As Soos started down the stairs, Bill said, "Hey, Questiony. If Mabel asks where I am, just tell her I woke up for breakfast then decided to sleep in."

Aww, he didn't want her to worry. "What about if Dipper asks?"

"Tell him to mind his own business."

"Heh. You got it, dude." Soos headed back to the kitchen—still bothered.

####

Yesterday, Soos and Melody had made plans to take advantage of the Mystery Shack being closed for the day to make breakfast together, the way they used to during the off season. But today, Melody had said that, now that Bill was alive again, she wasn't comfortable eating in the shack, and she'd gone to her aunt's house. She'd said she wasn't mad at Soos, and he believed her—he'd played no part in Bill's continued survival—but still. It kinda felt like she was mad at Soos.

So Soos was eating brunch by himself in the kitchen when Bill gingerly eased himself downstairs—leaning to one side, wincing in pain, one eye squeezed shut, and supporting himself on his broken umbrella; but, mobile again. He ducked into the living room where Stan and Ford were watching TV and, from what Soos had overheard, planning what to do with the rest of their summer. "Okay, I'm here," Bill said. "Negotiations?"

"Hey—no weapons," Stan said. "Hand over the umbrella."

"What! You let me keep it last night."

"Yeah, when it was raining and we were tired. I don't see any rain inside the house."

"Hey, Mr. Pines?" Soos leaned out of the kitchen. "Bill was just using the umbrella to walk? Maybe we could let him keep this one?"

Bill shot Soos a dirty look, face flushed. (What was that for!)

Stan paused, and turned to Ford for a verdict. Ford pressed his lips together, looked away, and muttered, "Well, if he's using it for legitimate purposes."

Bill stared at Ford, brows raised in amazement. "Wait, wait—I'm allowed to have it now?"

"Yes?" Ford said. "I mean—If you're using it to walk, why wouldn't you be?"

"Why wouldn't I—?!" Bill laughed in disbelief. "'No weapons, Bill!' 'No weapons, Bill!' Ev-ry sin-gle time! No canes, no umbrellas, no brooms, no baseball bats, no GOLF CLUBS, no STICKS, no CURTAIN RODS—"

"Oh come on!" Stan spread his hands defensively. "Some of those can obviously be used as weapons—!"

"I wouldn't have needed a baseball bat if you hadn't already taken my cane!"

"You tried to brain Soos with a cane on your first day."

Bill shot another dirty look at Soos.

Soos said apologetically, "That did objectively happen."

Bill rolled his open eye and glowered at Stan again. "What, so because of that I'm not allowed to walk?"

"I," Stan said. "That." He turned to Ford again for help.

Ford said, "If we'd known you needed a cane—"

"I fall down the stairs twice a day!"

"Well," Ford said.

"You use me falling to tell when I'm up in the morning!"

"Ah."

"Did it not occur to you! That this was a problem! That I was trying to solve!"

"I see your point."

Why didn't he just say something, Soos wondered; followed by, what, the guy who refused to explain why he was stuck laying on the floor until we dragged it out of him?

"Well, you've got an umbrella now," Stan said. "Happy?"

"Elated," Bill said sourly. He perched on the armrest of the sofa, visibly wincing as he crossed his legs and found the right position to balance himself. (Soos noted that, since Stan and Ford were already occupying both armchairs and the sofa's seat cushions were in the attic, Bill didn't have any cushioned place to sit. With back pain, no less.) "Let's get this over with."

The crux of the negotiations was that, when Bill and the Pines had initially agreed on the terms of his imprisonment, they'd only been meant to be sufficient enough to last until either the Pines figured out how to kill him or Bill figured out how to escape. Now that both had happened and it looked like Bill would be staying here longer than planned, they supposed they needed something more sustainable.

Bill requested door rights back. Stan and Ford nixed that immediately; they didn't trust him with that kind of freedom.

"Fine, then at least let me go outside. I want fresh air, blue skies, and a social life! I'm an extrovert, I'm losing even more of my mind in here."

Stan and Ford exchanged a look. "Yeah," Stan said grudgingly. "He's more or less in solitary in here. Even for him, that's harsh." (A ghost of a triumphant smirk flickered across Bill's face and disappeared.)

Ford considered that with an unconvinced grimace; but he said, "I suppose... you can make occasional trips outside the shack for... mental health purposes. Under adequate supervision."

"Finally," Bill sighed. "So what's 'adequate' supervision?"

That was where negotiations broke down. Stan and Ford did not think that Mabel alone was adequate supervision for the villainous Bill Cipher, and Wendy was just barely sufficient for Rainbow Club nights but he couldn't be trusted alone with her outside that; Bill, on the other hand, objected strenuously to the suggestion that he could only go outside with somebody who hated and/or distrusted him—which described everyone in the shack except Wendy and Mabel—because that would just make going outside miserable.

They couldn't agree on what kinds of things Bill would be allowed to do, either. They didn't like the idea of him hanging out with Rainbow Club members outside of club meetings, or going with Abuelita to bingo, or visiting a bar in town—all of those would give him too many opportunities to manipulate people with minimal oversight.

"Okay," Bill said irritably, "so are there any social activities I am allowed to participate in! Since it sounds like socialization itself is off limits—!"

Soos decided to make himself scarce before things got any more heated. Maybe he'd go upstairs to retrieve the tray from breakfast.

####

The bacon and drink had been consumed; the bendy straw had been tied in a double loop; the pill bottle was alarmingly light; the sandwich had been picked at, before Bill elected to eat the toast around it and leave the filling behind on the plate; and the potato chip bag had been flung across the room, crushed chips left in its wake, in some sort of protest against receiving unasked-for food. Okay. So Bill was really insulted, then.

Eh, Soos should probably clean up here anyway. He took pride in keeping the Mystery Shack clean, but he hadn't had a chance to thoroughly clean the attic since Bill and the kids moved in for the summer. And it looked like the projectile potato chips weren't the only junk food trash that had accumulated. He saw empty chip bags, candy wrappers, peanut butter jars, jerky packets, cider cans... a lot of cider cans...

He went downstairs, got a broom, a trash bag, and a vacuum, and got to work.

As Soos worked his way across the floor sucking up potato chips, he quietly sang to himself, "Am I cleanin'? Girl, I'm cleanin'. I vacuum in the attic. 'Are you cleanin'?' Yeah, I'm cleanin'. I vacuum in the..." He picked up the couch cushions to vacuum under them—he still wondered why Bill preferred to sleep on the cushions rather than the sofa bed downstairs. Maybe he got scared of the dark and liked to sleep by a window? That would make sense. Since Bill used to glow when he was a triangle, he probably wasn't used to the dark. Or maybe he just thought the attic was cooler than the living room.

Soos almost set the cushions back on the ground, noticed bloodstains on one, and froze. He'd seen Bill with a lot of little injuries, but had he seen any cuts that big? The blood didn't look fresh. They'd at least been here long enough for Bill to hide them on the underside of the cushion. Soos looked around wildly for any clues about how or why or when, uneasily decided that since they were dry and Bill wasn't dead he didn't need to worry about it, and pulled out the upholstery attachment to give the stain a halfhearted vacuuming before putting the cushions back in place. What the heck was happening in this attic?

Soos scooped up the mostly yellow and black clothes sitting at the foot of the cushion-bed—they were outside Bill's cardboard box "dresser," he figured that meant they were dirty—wrapped them in Bill's Pony Heist sheet, and tossed the bundle toward the staircase. They flew down to the landing without hitting the stairs. "Yes! Three points! No net!" Soos pumped his fist.

He cleaned the window seat's cushion with the upholstery attachment, picked it up to clean underneath—and the cushion was really heavy on one side. He felt that side of the cushion; there was something hard and brick-ish inside. He caught a flash of white along one edge. The cushion's stuffing was coming out of a tear in the seam. Soos reached inside.

His jaw dropped. "No way. How did he...?"

Soos had pulled out two stubby crayons and the long-lost Journal 4.

####

(If you got this far thank you for taking a break from the fandom-wide riots over the book in order to read my fic. (I'm assuming there's fandom-wide riots, I'm queuing this Monday night so that I don't have to worry about it for the rest of the week.) Anyway, I'd love to hear what y'all think about our first Soos-focused plot arc!

And as promised, now that the book's out, I'll be getting to work crossposting the fic to Ao3 soon-ish. I don't know when yet, since I'm writing to y'all from the past, but soon.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #soos ramirez #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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portraitofalinkonfyre · 3 months ago

Text

A Fierce Dillema

Pairing: Fierce Deity x Reader

Warning(s): None, just some introspective fluff and controlled chaos with everyone's favorite deity <3

Masterlist

“(Y/n).”

You awoke to the gentle calling of your name and a firm hand on your shoulder. A groan left you as you tried to turn away, to hide in the downy pillows and scattered sheets of your bed, but the voice was too persistent to ignore. A quick glance at your nightstand revealed that it was four in the morning, which was only cemented by the fact that the sun hadn’t even risen yet.

“(Y/n),” the voice, oddly familiar, continued to press. “Wake up.”

Wake up, he said. You already had an inkling of who would dare disturb your slumber, and it only became clear when you saw the Fierce Deity’s silver-haired reflection on the glossy surface of your alarm clock. He was wearing his armor and that blade of his was secured to his back, which undoubtedly meant something significant had occurred since you bid him and the other boys goodnight six-ish hours ago. “Oh my god, what happened?”

There was a slight pause. You could practically feel the tension through the calloused hand on your bare shoulder and sincerely hoped he hadn’t gone out and killed someone… or set the kitchen on fire. Again. You weren’t sure which was worse, because at least a body was easy enough to hide when you had nine heroes at your disposal.

“Can humans consume deer meat?”

What?

You had to physically turn around to convey the bafflement you were currently feeling. Ever the gentleman, he removed his hand and took a respectful step backward. Now facing each other, you looked him straight in the eye and asked: “Is there a deer in my kitchen?”

“Yes.”

“...Is it for breakfast?”

“Yes.”

…Okay. You were an adult, so you would handle it as such. It was a minor miracle that he had the foresight to talk to you before attempting to use your stove (you hoped). Besides, you did say that you were going to teach the boys about your world until another portal showed up to dump them somewhere else, and Fierce would be no exception. “I’ll be down in five. Do I need to watch meat-cleaning videos or did you put that sword to use?”

The Fierce Deity, destroyer of gods and civilizations alike, looked almost offended by your assumption of his sword usage. You watched, amused, as his voice took on a scolding tone. “I would never, it is much too large for such a task.”

“Whatever you say, buddy,” you slid out of bed with the grace of a waterlogged snail, arranging the blankets in some haphazard semblance of a made bed. Fierce quickly made himself scarce, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Your relationship with the deity was an… unusual one. You had been cleaning when you accidentally knocked over Time’s precariously placed traveling pack, only for a vaguely-humanoid mask to fall out. You proceeded to snatch it up and the shit that followed was wild enough to be the star of a bestselling novel on Booktok, because there was no other way to describe it when a seven-foot, fully-armored man materialized two feet away wielding a sword that was as long as you were tall. Chaos had ensued and a fight nearly broke out between the newcomer and Sky, of all people, in your kitchen until Time managed to calm everyone down. From then on, he had simply coexisted in your home, though there were occasionally spats between him and the other boys. Traditionally, Time was the one to break it up when it happened, but you also discovered you yourself had some sway to him when you screamed loud enough.

Recently, however, Fierce had become unusually devoted to helping out around the house, going so far as to attempt to duel Wild for the right to cook dinner. It had taken a full minute of scolding to get him to pipe down and watch Family Feud with the others, though you got the vague sense that he was pouting as he watched you from the couch. His behavior only ramped up when your boss blessed (cursed) you with more hours at work and you returned home to learn that, in the span of five hours, he had managed to not only break your vacuum cleaner, but nearly maim the mailman for “invading your territory”, to which you informed him that things were drastically different in your world and promptly bought a “guard dog on duty” sign to hang on your mailbox.

A quiet creak of the floorboards outside reminded you of who you were keeping waiting. With a muffled curse, you threw on a half-decent shirt, leaving your axalotle pj pants right where they were, and dashed outside to meet the deity. He was leaning against your wall, arms crossed over that mouthwateringly muscled chest (you had eyes), but seemed to snap to attention when you barreled into the hallway. “Let’s cook this bitch!”

And so you did. While the gorey mess practically dripping from your island wasn’t particularly enthusing, you sucked it up and retrieved a pan, turning the stove to the max. A bit of oil later and you had a butchered flank roasting on the front burner, while a large pot filled with bones boiled away. Fierce was very considerate of your lack of knowledge on this sort of thing, quietly handing you the finished cuts when you requested them. He hardly spoke, choosing to listen as you prattled on about nothing in particular. Within the hour, you had an entire pile of roasted meat on a serving plate, and several members of the chain had begun to trickle in, likely drawn by the delicious scent of food. It was only when everyone was downstairs did you notice that he had disappeared. Despite the minor fuss the younger boys raised, you grabbed some food and went to find him.

It was on the woodpile in the very corner of your property where you tracked him to. Even with his impressive bulk, there was still space to sit on the stacked logs, so you plopped down happily. Fierce looked at you with a surprised expression, but said nothing. So you did instead, offering him the plate. “I hope you know I’m not going to let you run off without eating after all you did.”

He took the plate. “It is nothing.”

You shrugged and began peeling the orange you snagged earlier. “Maybe to you, but not to me. You gave us a break and I’m grateful.”

“I stole sleep from you.”

“And?” You honestly had no idea why he thought you cared about that. Sure, waking up early sucked sometimes, but you weren’t made of glass. You popped an orange slice into your mouth. “I’m an adult.”

There was silence, but it wasn’t as uncomfortable as one would think. The sun had long since risen, bathing you in warm golden hues that not even the gentle breeze could chill. It didn’t even dawn on you how strange you must have looked–sitting next to an actual deity while dressed in a stained t-shirt and printed animal pants–or how unusual your life had become.

“I have a question,” said the deity. You listened intently before answering–it wasn’t often that he initiated conversation and you didn’t want to spoil it.

“...I have an answer.”

If you had looked closely, you would have seen the subtle quirk of his usually flat mouth before his expression reformed to something more solemn. You wondered if you should have mentally prepared for this conversation. “You do not fear me… why?”

You blinked, trying to process what had just been said to you. “Excuse me?”

As if sensing your bafflement, the Fierce Deity elaborated: “I could end your existence with a sweep of my sword. Thousands have recognized this, but you either deny or remain oblivious to it.”

Ouch? You knew little of his backstory beyond being imprisoned in a mask for countless years by someone named Hylia for–... well, you don’t think he had informed you, but it was far from warranting fear. If he had wanted to hurt you he would have done so already. You were honestly a bit offended he thought so little of you. “Is that all you think there is to it? I’ve told you before and I’ll say it again: you’ve done nothing to warrant my fear, so I don’t know where you’re getting this from,” you paused, realizing how harsh you sounded. “...Sorry, I just… I don’t see you that way.”

“Then how do you see me?” asked the deity, and you were caught off guard by the genuine curiosity in his pupil-less eyes. Was he… self conscious? It was a laughable thought, that the Fierce Deity was capable of such an emotion, but it was the only one that made sense in this dance of conversation.

That begs the question… how did you see him? ‘A person’ was your first thought, but it was what anyone would say. An acquaintance? Yes, but then it made your relationship seem almost transactional, which was not what you were aiming to convey. He was clearly looking for reassurance beneath that stoic facade and you knew an opportunity like this wouldn’t come again.

“A friend,” the words rolled off your tongue before you could stop them, but what could you do besides continue? “You’re my friend.”

It was simple, really, though that didn’t stop him from looking completely and utterly baffled. “You consider me… a friend?”

Why did it sound like such an affront when he said it like that? Your orange was long gone, but it didn’t stop you from fiddling with the peel in your hands. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it,” you responded honestly, because, really, you wouldn’t have. “You don’t sound like you have many friends.”

There was a sort of bitter melancholy in his tone that you knew all too well. “I have none.”

You grinned and reached up to pat his shoulder, emboldened by the rising light and your own sense of duty. “Until now.”

For the first time in forever, The Fierce Deity, vanquisher of worlds and gods alike, smiled. Truly smiled. You could have sworn his porcelain cheeks seemed a little less stark when he took your hand, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of it like in the fantasy novels you read as a child. Then, before you could choke out a flustered response, he leaned close and said. “I vow to not disappoint you.”

It was almost impressive how quickly you recovered from the shock of his actions. With a small laugh, you laid your hand on his shoulder, warm as an inferno, and whispered. “You could never.”

Is this the same AU as Knightmare In Toronto? Who knows!

#fierce deity x reader #linked universe x reader #linked universe #legend of zelda

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gremlingottoosilly · 11 months ago

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werebear!price getting extra adamant on feeding you as winter approaches. Gotta stock up before hibernation.

I bet he’d enjoy an extra sleepy pet if he went pet shopping

One of the main reasons he picked you in the human pet shop is because you proceeded to sleep through whatever he was doing. Price isn't the most subtle being in this building - he is heavy and imposing, even if his human form, and he by no means is trying to make himself smaller. It doesn't bother little sleepy you - not even when your cellmates are pushing and screaming, either trying to get away or as close to a possible ticket to freedom as possible. You were...sleepy. Always tired and exhausted, you're no match to his boys - especially to Soap's bursts of energy and Gaz's desire to hunt for his mate through the woods. They still adore you, obviously, they love to tease and to make you scared of them, but you eventually fall into this sleepy hazy state, and now you belong to your big bear. Fully. Price makes sure to bring you the best blankets he could find - he digs up scales and weight you before the hibernation starts because he is scared of you being starved back in the shop, that you need to take on a bit more kilos until you can be safely tucked away under his arm. He loves to just make you hang out in his office, you're chained to the floor on a warm, fuzzy carpet - you're so sleepy when you just lay next to his thigh, snoring softly, a warm blanket draped over your shoulders. He doesn't keep you on his lap because he wants to be able to go out of the room without disturbing sleepy little you - you're always so weak and pathetic after you wake up, your poor attempts at hiding from your new life aren't working because you wake up and it's the same people, all over again. You wake up and you're still his pet...so you just fall asleep again.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere price #price x reader #yandere 141 #monster!141 #monster!price #tw: monster fucking

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jacesbeloved · 5 months ago

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amidst the waves: special part

summary: born a lowborn, your family a group of fishermen that supply the market; one day, it wasn't a fish caught but rather, a young man.

pairing: lucerys velaryon x fem!reader

notes: heree’s a special gift in the name of hotd s2 !! had this in the drafts for so long and just finished it after the first ep as a warm up for the fics to come :D i hope u guys enjoy

part: I, II, III, special

You had hoped for a nicer sea.

Inside of a sturdy wooden fishing boat, situated in the middle of the waters, all the while rain was pouring down on you, the waves wasn't cooperating as well.

Your hair was tied into a knot, absolutely drenched from the rainwater, as you desperately tried to help Alaine tie the net inside of your boat. Some of the sea creatures you've captured managed to jump back out because of the chaos inside of the boat.

"Are we not heading back!?" Alaine yelled, hands clutching the sides of the boat as the waves rocked the both of you.

"What do you think I'm doing!?" You moved the oars aggressively. Alaine groaned before joining you in rowing the boat.

Your hair strands stuck to your forehead by the time you arrived at a part of the sea where the storm had calmed down. Only a light shower of rain droplets fell on the both of you.

Alaine wiped her forehead tiredly, resting her head on her hands while you continued rowing. Desperate to head back home and escape any possible storm that may follow your boat.

Something seemed to feel wrong; like you were forgetting, neglecting something.

You sneaked your eyes to the side, a second before you sharply turned towards your sister's direction. Her skin was pale, body shivering.

"Alaine? Alaine!" You pulled off the extra piece of clothing around your neck and proceeded to place it around your sister. "Hey? Stay with me, okay? I'll bring us back." You whisper on her forehead and she weakly nods.

A sigh leaves your lips, forgetting the ache in your arms as you started to row continuously without any break.

It took the both of you an hour at most; your arms were practically crying and shaking. The fear and nervousness inside of you growing whenever you glance at your sister still trembling in your scarf.

The familiar shore reappears in your sight, even though it was still far away, you felt a bit relieved seeing it.

There was no one by the shore when you got closer. Your hut's door closed shut and you couldn't see any movement from inside of the open windows. You gently grabbed your sister's head, whispering her name on her head as you tried to wake her up.

"We're here, Alaine. Please stay for me," you spoke, rubbing her head as you started screaming your brother's name. "Arrel! Where are you! We need you, now!"

By your first scream, there wasn't anyone that came out to help bring you fully to the shore. You screamed Arrel's name again, this time even louder which caused Alaine to groan.

You apologized softly, pulling back the oars and rowing.

Someone yells your name, at first you thought it was Arrel but it wasn't.

There was another figure right beside your brother's. A figure that seemed taller, a little bit bulkier, and certainly more layered. The figure had a unique coat on, a luxurious one.

Your eyes go wide when the two of them run to your boat, pulling the front to the shore as your body freezes on the spot.

It's Luke.

Or, to be correct, Prince Lucerys.

"What happened to her, Y/N?" he asks out with concern, rushing to pull off the coat he was wearing and place it on top of your sister.

You weren't sure what to tell him; do you just answer and act normal as if there wasn't anything that went on between the two of you three years ago? Or do you ignore him, throw a tantrum, reject his offer of a helping hand?

"Y/N! What happened to her?!" You were snapped back to reality when Arrel was the one that asked you. Your eyes blinking erratically as you stammered through your words, telling them that it seemed Alaine caught a cold because of the rain.

"We have to bring her to the hut. Arrel, get some new clothes for her, the ones I bought, those are comfortable and warm enough for her." Luke instructs, your brother nodding as he runs off.

"What- Arrel! Help me bring Alaine there what are you doing!"

Luke sighs, obvious to him that you were ignoring him.

He grabs hold of Alaine's arm, helping her up with his hand on her hips. Despite not wanting to, you grabbed the other arm and proceeded to help your sister out of the boat. Choosing to set aside your pride for now.

"You should run inside. You're drenched! I will carry her." Luke says, stopping for a moment.

"No!" You yelled.

Luke huffs, rolling his eyes as he nods.

By the time you got to the hut, you had quickly finished dressing Alaine in a new set of clothes from her wardrobe, not taking the ones Arrel was handing you that were from Lucerys.

Arrel had brought in a pot with cold water, and you grabbed a towel and submerged it in cold water before folding it to place on top of Alaine's forehead. The younger woman was still shivering, even though her forehead was hot.

"Here," Luke joins, entering the open room with some liquid inside of a small cup.

You looked at him, confused. "This," he says, raising the cup. "It's tea. We can use it to make her sweat and get the cold out. We have to get the heat out of her body."

"I know how to treat a cold, Luke," you grumbled. Arrel is looking at you with an "are you serious" look. Another sigh leaves your lips. Arrel rolls his eyes and takes the tea from Luke.

You held the back of your sister's head up, helping Arrel and Luke as they tried to make her drink it. Making sure that none of the hot liquid falls on her. Alaine coughs loudly, grimacing at the taste.

When the two males get her to drink it all, you set her back down and wrap a blanket over her body. Letting her rest and sleep.

Hours passed by in such an awkward atmosphere. You were seating on the seat by the kitchen, quietly cutting an apple as Arrel assorted today's catch into different tubs. Luke was out for a bit, unclear to you what he was doing but all that you remembered was him borrowing a piece of parchment and some ink. After that, he stayed inside of the living room, right across from the open kitchen with Arrel in the middle.

Your youngest sibling suddenly stands up, informing you that he'll be taking them to the market and that he left some to cook for later.

"W-what, you're leaving now?" You stammered, eyes flicking over to Luke before snapping back to Arrel.

"Yes. I have to get these to the market. I have to buy some herbs and other food as well, some you can use for our dinner with Luke later-"

"I appreciate the thought, Arrel, but there is need not of an extra dinner. I can leave before dinner if needed-" It was Luke's turn to speak now.

Your lips go dry, Luke gulping, Arrel staring at the both of you weirdly.

Taking none of yours statements into account, he leaves the hut. Ignoring your empty threat.

That is why here you both were. Sitting in silence, not a word spoken, no stories of what happened in the other's life for the past years.

You lean back a bit, catching a glimpse of the sun setting so you stand up. Rubbing your hands on your hips. "I'll start cooking."

Luke was quick to stand as well, following your footsteps to the kitchen. "I can- I'll help!"

"No need. Sit."

"Nonsense. I used to cook for your family all the time." He says with a chuckle, an attempt in lightening up the atmosphere. "Used to, Luke. I'm sure your maids and cooks cook for you now, of course you'd forget how to grill and cook."

He grabs the small pail filled with fish, running outside and away from you.

Being the person that you are, you ran after him. Dashing out of the door while screaming his name, glaring at him. A smile draws on his lips as he runs near the shore, the weight of his clothes evidently wearing him down.

You shove him hard, gripping the padded shoulder of his shirt when you catch onto him. Luke laughs at that, acting as if he was getting hurt with each time you smacked his shoulder.

"Give me it; I'll cook," you demanded.

He calms down a bit, sealing his lips as he thinks for a second. Eventually, he hands you the pail with a small grin. "As long as you'll let me help."

Your eyes narrowed at him, and he walked away without a word. Luke catches up to you with no problem and sets out to walk beside you with his hands behind his back.

"I missed you, you know," he said. The sudden statement surprised you, a faint red hue threatening to show on your cheeks.

"I wrote to you many times," and you started to feel a bit apologetic. Remembering the times when a random raven flies to your hut, having a letter with Luke's signature? Speaking about how being with his family was weird but great,. He was still weird even after months, but he grew back into his family. Though he also missed staying in the hut, in his own little tent, grilling seafood at night for dinner.

"I didn't know you did," you lied.

You hear him scoff a bit: "I found my letters underneath your bed; Y/N. Arrel showed them to me."

And there it is. The nerve to apologize after being caught.

"I assume you have your reasons, and I respect that." He cuts off your train of thoughts, already assuring you when he sees the guilt strike your face.

"Forgive me," you said. "There is nothing to forgive, Y/N. I understand that we did not really leave each other on a good foot." He spoke with some sense of maturity, different from the one he already had way back.

You nod, pursing your lips.

The two of you remained silent, him watching as you prepped the fish, expertly using your knife quick and clean.

"So what brought you back here?" It was your turn to speak, opening up a conversation.

"I told you." He smiles at you. "I missed you."

You look away from him, acting as if you were looking for something, just to avoid him seeing your cheeks. The sun was still setting, and he would still be able to see the rosy stains on your cheeks from his reply.

"And the sea," he laughed, pointing at the waters. You laughed with him, and although it was forced, you tried your best not to. "Of course, the sea."

The rest of the conversation passed by awfully comfortably. It was like two childhood friends catching up about what happened in their lives. Loud laughs and playful remarks thrown here and there whenever one joked about something.

Arrel arrived, not really interrupting them when he did. Just simply walking inside the hut silently carrying some other already cooked food.

You remember one simple question that you had—something that was lingering in your head for the whole day ever since you saw him today. "What is it, my lady?"

"So, uh, how is life betrothed?" The response you got caught you off-guard.

Luke laughed. He laughed. Loudly. Not just a simple laugh; no, he was laughing hard.

You got thrown off by that, shaking your head and looking away. Focusing down on what you were cooking over the fire, as you just chose not to push on it. When he laughs at your name, you scowl. "What?!"

"Y/N-"

A loud roar cuts you both off, and your heart almost falls out of your ribcage when you see two big dragons flying in your direction. Your hand immediately comes over to grip Luke's arm, squeezing it as you point at the two creatures with fear on your face.

Compared to the pure fright on your face, Luke's face had relaxed as he recognized the two dragons despite the dark skies.

Both dragons flew above them, circling their little vicinity before the two dragons disappear for a few moments. Taking deep breaths, you slowly released your hold on his arm. A small smile appeared on his face as you went back to the clay pot hanging over the fire as if nothing had happened.

He followed you to your spot, ghosting over the fire as he watched you in silence. I watched the way your forehead creased in concentration, but the nibbling on your lips told him you were still irritated.

"I do not have a betrothed, my lady," he says the answer that was interrupted before.

"Rest her soul."

Luke shakes his head, "She is not dead. The betrothal was called off a few days after I returned."

"Oh!" you sigh, biting the inside of your cheek awkwardly at the piece of information. You didn't necessarily know what to do with the information but it certainly did lift a lot of weight off of your chest. "That is... unfortunate."

"Incredibly unfortunate," Luke echoes in the most monotone voice you ever heard. A deadpan look on his face.

You were about to take notice on that response of his when three figures appear behind him. I am walking towards the both of you. Luke, looking back as well, turns again to you but now with a genuine smile.

When they come closer, your breath hitches. It's Queen Rhaenyra with Prince Jacaerys and Joffrey.

"Your grace," you say, taking a knee and bowing to them. Luke glances at you as he does a shallow curtsy himself before he stretches his arms to hug his family.

"It is our honor to meet you, Lady Y/N. You are my son's savior," Rhaenyra reaches to shake your hand, a look of genuineness on her eyes. Jace and Joffrey reach as well, each taking turns saying their greetings.

"You praise me, your grace. I simply did what any normal person would do. It is more surprising and commendable that Prince Luke—" you pause, "Lucerys—managed to live through our impoverished, penniless—"

"Y/N." Luke stops you there, holding your arm with a frown. "You should not bring your family down. You guys have been more than welcoming and accommodating for me."

"I agree with Luke. It is us that are in debt to your hospitality. Without you, I do not think our family could have been complete again." Jace cuts in with a solemn smile.

Rhaenyra comes forward, glancing at your family's hut. "Oh, my parents are yet to come back from the town. My brother, Arrel, is also in the market for dinner—perfect!"

"I had just remembered. I will be able to cook a bigger dinner once he arrives."

"There is no need, dear. We have come here to express our gratitude for your hospitality to my son," Rhaenyra says softly. "May we?" You nod eagerly, opening the front door of your hut to welcome the unexpected family.

Luke tends to Alaine first, covering her with the curtain to provide her with some privacy as she is sleeping, before he happily accompanies his own brothers. Even telling Joffrey to start fanning the pit of fire while Jace skewered the fish. You and his mother having a cup of tea inside.

"You are all fishermen?"

You nod, "My mother and father deliver these seafood to King's Landing on occasion, which is why only us three are left here."

Rhaenyra hums, looking around. "Luke has told us all about this. According to him, he learned a lot more lessons on livelihood here than in King's Landing."

The two of you share laughters at that. "My apologies, your grace. My family—I included them—had not known of Luke—Prince Lucery's status so we had treated him as normal as we would any other person."

"There is no need to call him with such formalities. I am aware of the relationship you both share," Rhaenyra replies and you look at her awkwardly.

What even is this relationship that she speaks of? You weren't quite sure.

"There is no need to feel troubled, Y/N. If my son has yet to tell you, his—"

"Betrothal was called off," You finish for her. The Queen sends you a knowing look as she nods. The two of you comfortably sitting in silence.

A gasp disrupts the silence, "Oh my, your grace," Alaine's head falls to bow. Gulping as she looks at you with major confusion. You shrug discreetly, not knowing how to reply.

"This is Alaine. Our middle-born." Alaine does a curtsy with nervousness before Luke's call from outside echoes inside. "Mother! Y/N! Dinner is ready. Arrel has arrived back as well!" Luke yells from outside.

The three of them head back out to reveal the four boys getting along with each other. Arrel, despite being younger than the other three, is tallest and is the one ordering them around. They were fixing the plates and preparing the cooked meat.

Alaine had already run to the food as soon as she came out. You and Rhaenyra... still chatted.

"I know my son's attachment is heavy but I tell you this as a mother: all I want for Luke is happiness. He is to rule Driftmark after his grandfather. I figure it will be an incredibly burden, not to discredit your or..."

"Your grace, I do not know."

"Mother," Luke calls. The two of you turning to him. "You shan't pressure Y/N. Let us have supper."

Rhaenyra squeezes your hand as she sighs, nodding while pulling the both of you to where they were eating.

It was a rowdier but definitely cozier supper. Laughters and stories both from the sea and the castle were shared as if there weren't a barrier between their status—because to them, there weren't.

Luke was right beside you throughout supper. Comfortably jesting with your siblings and his. It was all too casual.

The two of you share a look at that moment, eyes staring longingly at each other. A smile comes onto your lips when you feel his hand slowly and softly creeping into your free hand. You glance at his hand, then at his face.

He's smiling at you. One that pulls at your heart again, just like before. Only this time, he's sure he won't be leaving you any time soon.

#hotd #lucerys velaryon fic #lucerys velaryon x reader #luke velaryon #luke velaryon x reader #house of the dragons fic #lucerys velaryon imagines

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icarusredwings · 4 months ago

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Sometimes 14 has fucking comas.

What I mean by this is after a very draining day (whether emotionally or physically) his body will just simply crash to the point he will sleep 38-42 hours at a time.

The first time he did it, Donna got so scared that she screamed, "Not on my watch, Spaceman!" And slapped him so hard that he woke up and whined 'It's always the mothers' under his breath.

The second time it happened, she called 15 and 15 preformed 'very advanced testing,' which included making 14 slap himself in the face while unconscious by holding his hand above his face and dropping it, giving him a nudge, and shining a light into his rhetna before saying.

"Yup! Im definitely in comatose!" Then proceeded to go "Awww! I'm in a coma! Ruby look i'm in a coma!" And cuddle himself for a few hours until he wakes up.

This being said, if 14s having a really good week and he's in the house? He's borderline narcoleptic. He's just as bad as Wilfred when it comes to nodding off. He doesn't mean too, he's is just so stressed that his body finally feels safe enough to process All That (TM) and it's exhausting.

Thursdays, he's the sleepiest because Thursdays he has therapy. No one is allowed to ask shit from the Doctor on Thursdays, or else Donna will beat you with a slipper.

#He's such a sleepy guy #And he'll cuddle with just about anyone too #the fourteenth doctor #doctor who #dr who meme #donna noble #15th doctor #ruby sunday #retired time lords #sleepy time lords #im fully aware thats not how narcolepsy works #him and wilf will be talking and then 2 minutes later both are passed out in their chairs #I think it has something to do with the nanobots inside of him #or perhaps its like TARDIS jetlag

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petew21-blog · 6 months ago

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Let's run some tests

"Won't let her get away this time" I said to my new reflection

My girlfriend of two years decided to split up right before I was ready to propose to her. All that cause she was working as a veterinary nurse with this guy, Dr. Omar. She said she didn't cheat, but she said she fell in love like never before. I couldn't let her get away. She was the best woman I ever met. I had to do everything to get her back

Maybe it was luck, maybe a trickster god, but I do owe him. I woke up as Omar the next day that Alisha moved out. I was shocked, everyone would be.

He was not a bad looking guy. But in my previous body I was a bit... how do I say this. Well, maybe slighty against some minorities. So even thought it was meant for me as a blessing, I was having a hard time at first, waking up with a different skin tone. So what a guy from Nebraska like me might not have a great mind set

That changed when I discovered I could be grateful for the body I was now in. Slight hairs over the chest, veins popping out everywhere. Damn, chicks are gonna dig this. Especially Alisha. If my balding head and belly fat was the thing that made her not love me, than so be it. I am improved now.

As I proceeded in my examination, revealing a very nice surprise in the boxers. A message from my ex-girlfriend popped on the screen. "Hey, wanna meet later. I am at the beach now, but I am up for dinner or sth."

"Hey, sure. The beach sounds better tho" I sent to her. She rewarded me with a photo in her swimming suit, revealing the beautiful body I already knew

I took a photo of myself in a vest with a sthetoscope. Even if she won't like it I may keep the photo for myslef. The chicks love animals and they love doctor. Man, being an animal doctor must be like a lottery for them

Another message popped up on the screen. It was my old body. He wanted to meet up and talk about what happened. Great. Right on time

I met him at the edge of the town. He was nervously stepping around the car. He then approached me, being scared what might happen to him in my body. I stayed confident. He can't hurt me now. I don't have to do anything. I threatened him, that if he was gonna say anything to anyone, I will find. Not that anyone would believe him. I was almost ready to leave, but then he stopped me

"If you won't fix this, I will reveal everything I did in my body that will ruin your career and drive Alisha away from you"

Fuck. Maybe he does have advantage after all. Or maybe not

"Ok, stay here, I'll go get my phone and we can discuss how to revert this. Ok?" he agreed with me and stayed at his car.

What he didn't expect was that I prepared a dart gun with anesthaethic and shot the dart at him. He screamed in pain, cursed at me, while I just laughed. He stumbled and fell on the ground, still trying to get up

I got over him, enjoying how he was trying to fight the effects.

"Sorry, for that. I might have given you a higher dose. I gotta get used to being a doctor now haha. But before I do anything else to you know this. NO ONE! IS GONNA GET BETWEEN ME AND ALISHA! SHE IS MINE!!!"

The fear in his eyes remained even as his body's heart failed. Atleast he won't bother us anymore. Now, gotta fix everything before my date tonight with Alisha. I am lucky that I already know her and know what to say in advance. I am so excited!

Story submitted in inbox: Would you do a story with an man swapping bodies with the hunky doctor currently dating his ex girlfriend?

#body swap #male body swap #criminal body swap

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cobaltperun · 11 months ago

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Lost (4) - When they come for me

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Warning for this chapter: I believe it is intense and violent, if you are sensitive to graphic depictions of violence, please don't read

Word count: 5.3k

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

-Opposite of lazy, far from a punk, Ya'll ought to stop talking, start tryin' to catch up motherfucker-

You've always been a light sleeper, well, unless Tara was in your arms. She relaxed you, her warmth, her body close to yours, brought you peace, chased away any nightmare you might have. Unless she was sick and you were taking care of her she made it harder for anything else to wake you up. You still should have been more alert. Sam got attacked, yet you relaxed completely, believing the police officer outside of Tara’s room would do his job. You should have realized that it was clear the attacker could get into the hospital and slip out unnoticed.

Yet you didn't wake up until a robe brushed against you.

Not that it mattered. That was still plenty of time.

Your right hand shot up, grabbing the wrist and you immediately saw a knife. The black robes, the chilling, white mask, the knife. In the darkness of the room, the person in front of you looked more like a mini Grimm Reaper than a human. You weren't struggling, you did feel the Ghostface trying to push the knife into your chest, with both hands now, but you were still stronger. You were just still drowsy from sleeping and this just wasn't triggering your fight-or-flight response, you didn't even feel any adrenaline. You felt anger though, coursing through your veins, that need for revenge threatening to make you act rash.

You wouldn’t though. You were a trained fighter; you wouldn’t be consumed by emotions. You faked a yawn, wishing to irritate the Ghostface, you’d break it mentally first. Once it realized it couldn’t do anything to you, that’s when you’d beat it up.

You felt more than saw Tara shifting her weight, she woke up due to your sudden movement. Tara screamed, her healthy hand getting between your chest and the knife, though luckily she didn’t try to grab the knife, and you finally saw tiny dark red spots on the knife. The desire to mentally break the attacker vanished, leaving only the thoughts of beating the monster within an inch of its life and then letting it rot in prison.

You jerked your knee up, colliding it with Ghostface’s right shoulder. The pushing against the knife stopped and you forced your elbow into the attacker's guts. With the Ghostface gasping to regain its' breath the next part was a walk in the park. Without letting go of the wrist you slipped Tara off you as gently as you could, though not without giving her a comforting squeeze to the shoulder. "I'll be right back," you began sitting up as the Ghostface tried to get out of your vice grip. It tried to make you let go of its wrist, to pry your hand open, to push it away, to take the knife, but the way you were holding its right hand made sure it couldn’t let go of the knife either. The struggles were futile as you lifted your right arm, still holding onto Ghostface’s wrist and proceeded to punch it in the stomach once again with your left fist. Another punch to the side of the head and you felt the person underneath the mask going limp in your hold.

"Let's take this outside," you growled at Ghostface, fury burning in your eyes. This attacked Tara, this hurt her! This thing? That didn't even bother to clean the knife? As if her blood was something it wanted to admire. Maybe it was someone else's blood? It didn't matter. The possibility that it was Tara's was enough. The possibility that this was the knife that the monster used to hurt her was enough. You slammed the monster against the wall, disorienting it further, before pushing it out the doors. There was no need to do this anywhere near Tara.

That's when you saw it, a body to your right, the blood. So, it did kill someone... Your attention went back to the killer as it tried to get back up. With a scoff on your face, you approached the Ghostface to shut that idea down. A reckless, almost desperate slash missed your neck by several inches, you stepped to the side to avoid the next one, swept the arm holding the knife away and once again went for the head, slamming your fist into the mask and hearing a small crack.

The Ghostface tried to stab you again and yet again you grabbed the wrist. "Got you," it was the first time you heard the voice Tara heard as she was being attacked. It was, indeed, a chilling voice. A glint of another knife caught your attention, and you pulled back before it could reach you, switching from standing your ground and pummeling the monster to a proper fighting stance, bouncing lightly on your feet and putting up a guard.

It was just in time as well, as you narrowly ducked underneath another knife. Another Ghostface. Well, as long as they were focused on you, you were okay with this situation. You grappled the one that just attacked you, reaching down as you ducked and grabbed the attacker's shin, forcing it to the ground with a loud thud. You didn't have time to attack again, as the other Ghostface lunged at you aiming to end the fight with the two knives.

You lightly nudged one of the arms away and dodged to the side, leaving you enough opening to land a quick punch to the enemy's side. By the time you pulled away from the dual-wielding Ghostface the other, taller one got back up. The dual-wielding Ghostface didn't give you time to focus back on the other one and tried to stab you again. You pulled back just out of reach and grabbed one of the arms, twisting it and forcing the murderer to drop the knife. As the other Ghostface rushed you from your right you leaned forward wrapping your arm around the waist of the one in front of you and tossing it at its partner. The two stumbled back a bit but otherwise remained on their feet.

You raised an eyebrow when they seemed to look at each other. The smaller one motioned toward Tara's room, and your heart began beating faster. No way, not a chance.

They split up, the taller one heading for Tara's room while the one that began all of this attacked you. You had moments to react, you feinted with a punch to the head, and just as the Ghostface stopped you spun around, landing a spinning back kick to the side. The other Ghostface stopped right in front of Tara's room, as if taunting you.

And like a fool, you took the bait. Not that it mattered, you had no choice but to take the bait. It was either this or letting Ghostface get to Tara.

You went after it, sidestepping a stab and landing a knee on its chest. With each hit you pushed it back, away from Tara's room. A series of quick punches to the head and upper body should have finished the one in front of you off, and you would have, as you pulled your fist back, ready to slam a haymaker right to the side of its’ head, but instead, there was a loud bang, and you felt a piercing pain in your right side. You stumbled forward, stopping the flurry of punches and looking back, your eyes wide in surprise. The other Ghostface wasn't right behind you. It wasn't holding a knife. It was holding a gun.

"Guess you aren't invincible after all," the Ghostface taunted and went for your neck. With a grunt, you got back up and traded a blow to the side of the head for a cut across the right side of your jawline. Not too deep, but it would leave a scar. Ghostface didn't get up, but it didn't matter. You lost.

"How about we play a game, Y/N, where you don't move, and I don't shoot Tara."

Your blood ran cold, you tried to think of a way out, a way to save Tara, but you couldn’t find any solution. There wasn’t any way to save her, other than to hope that listening to the Ghostface would be enough to buy you some time to figure it out.

"Turn around," you obeyed the command and saw the gun was pointed toward Tara. "On your knees," what choice did you have? You weren't fast enough to reach Ghostface. You couldn't get between Tara and the gun. You couldn't do anything.

To make matters even worse you heard the one you just knocked down getting up. "You really are a guard dog," the phrase the one behind you said was familiar, in the back of your mind you knew you heard it dozens of times, but all you could focus on was the gun pointed at where you left Tara. At the moment, it hardly mattered where or who said that phrase before. And it certainly didn’t matter that he slammed the handle of the knife to the back of your neck, you didn’t react and that seemed to stop him from doing it again.

"Here's how things are going to go. One of you dies here, but one of you might just survive if you play along," the one with the gun decided. "Tara, come here or we'll slit Y/N's throat."

"Leave her out of this!" you immediately moved to get up, but the finger getting closer to the trigger stopped you and you settled down, biting your lip and forcing your body to stay still. Where was the security?! Surely someone heard a gunshot, right?

What were you thinking? As if they’d risk their lives to face a lunatic.

"You broke the first rule," the Ghostface behind you whispered in your ear and stabbed the knife into your left side. You barely held back a scream, instead inhaling sharply and gritting your teeth. Fighting professionally for two years made you think you could tolerate pain, and to an extent you could, much better than most people, but this was a whole different kind of pain. The warm blood soaking your shirt around the wound, the piercing pain, it was like nothing you have ever experienced.

And Tara was stabbed again and again, alone in her own house, where she was meant to be safe.

Your wounds didn't hurt nearly as much as hearing Tara whimper in pain as she got out of the room in her wheelchair. You could see the blood soaking her bandaged left hand and you desperately wanted to get to her, to protect her. "Y/N," she whispered weakly, tears filling her eyes.

For the first time in years, you truly weren't sure what to do to help her. You wanted to comfort her, to tell her it would all end well, but you couldn't.

"Now, here's a game we're going to play," the one near Tara spoke up and got behind Tara's wheelchair. "Are you scared Tara? Y/N failed to protect you."

"Fuck you," Tara gritted out, glaring despite the pain she was in.

"Another one," on command the Ghostface behind you added another stab to your left side.

"No!" Tara screamed as you gasped for breath.

"If you move in any way I don't want you to, Y/N gets another one of those. If she moves, I slit your pretty little throat. You got it, Baby?" Tara remained silent. "Guess that's another one then."

Realizing what Ghostface meant Tara quickly nodded. "I got it!" she cried out, her breathing already labored.

"That wasn't so hard, was it? Next up, you get to choose what happens. You can live by shooting your precious guard dog," you and Tara looked at each other, equally terrified. Of all the things the monster could have asked for... You couldn't even try to convince Tara to do it, because what if that made them change their mind and then they asked Tara to do something even worse.

"No, no," Tara shook her head as the gloved hand slid down to Tara's left hand.

"Do you need me to hold your hand?" Ghostface squeezed Tara's injured hand and then pointed the gun at you as Tara whimpered in pain. "It's easy. Look Baby," the Ghostface fired the gun and if the one behind you didn't hold you back you would have fallen to the floor. You gasped as the burning pain engulfed your abdomen and just for a moment you couldn't hear anything, not even Tara's screams of your name.

"So, so easy," the Ghostface leaned down next to Tara and, while still maintaining a strong grip on the gun, placed Tara's right hand on in.

"I'm begging you, don't make me do this," Tara wept as she desperately tried to get free from Ghostface's grip.

"Keep begging," the Ghostface encouraged, clearly pleased by Tara’s desperate attempts to plead for your life while pulling the sleeve of the jacket Tara was wearing up and then taking a knife and cutting through the bandages wrapped around her hand.

"I'll do anything else, whatever you ask, just please not this!" her voice was getting hoarse. "Please, anything but this!"

"Fine. Here's anything but that," and then, with the gun still in Tara's hand, the Ghostface pushed Tara's finger against the trigger and fired the gun. The bullets hit you in quick succession, one near your left shoulder, the other grazing your right shoulder.

"Y/N!" Tara's desperate scream echoed throughout the hall.

"Careful with that aim, you nearly shot me too," Ghostface behind you complained and pushed you down to the ground.

You could feel your heart beating faster, drops of cold sweat falling from your face as you tried to control yourself, to stay strong for Tara.

"You know I'd never hurt you," the other reassured and then got the gun out of Tara's hand. "I don't know what you are screaming about, Tara. You got what you wanted right? You didn't kill Y/N," the monster even began slowly reopening the wound on her hand, digging the tip of the knife into the surface,

“Stop that!” you raged, as Tara cried out. At this point, the situation was far too desperate to hope Tara would make it out of this alive, so you tried to find whatever strength was left in your body to get up. The weight on your back was too much and your arms, especially the left one gave out after a couple of attempts.

Tara's sobbing turned into coughing and wheezing and even from where you were you could see and hear she was struggling to breathe. Asthma. Now of all times. "Tara!" you couldn't remember the last time you yelled as loud as that. "You won! I can't fight back! Just let her go!"

"Let her go?" the Ghostface holding Tara reached around and squeezed her neck. "Why? She didn't do her part of the deal; she didn't kill you. Did you, Baby?" the monster ignored Tara's rapidly worsening condition and pointed the gun at you. "Hmm? Should I do it instead? That way you can feel less guilty. What do you say? Want me to do it just for you? Want me to kill the one you love so you don’t have to?"

Despite an asthma attack Tara quickly shook her head, her tear-filled eyes met yours for just a moment, the despair, the anguish showing in her eyes, almost made you look away.

"What was that? You have to speak up if you want something. Here, I'll even count to three. One," Ghostface taunted as Tara desperately opened her mouth, but all that came out were gasps and failed attempts at pleading for your life.

You doubled your efforts, managing to push your body up. You had no idea how much more Tara could take, and you were not about to find out.

"Hurry up and speak Baby, we're at two now," another taunt, another struggle, all for nothing.

"Damn it!" you yelled, pushing even harder to get up, but a stab below your shoulder blade made you drop down to your forearms once more.

"Oh, Baby, guess you don't love her enough, after all, all those times you daydreamed about your guard dog, all those nights you dreamt of her, and yet you just don’t love her enough," there was even a gleeful cheeriness in the bastard's voice.

"N-No!" it came out as if spoken by someone on the verge of drowning, desperate and gasping for breath, but there was no doubt what word came out of Tara's mouth.

For a moment everything stopped, your struggles to get free, both Ghostfaces, it all stopped. The only things that continued were Tara's desperate attempts to get her breathing under any semblance of control. "Please, no," it sounded even worse than the first no she spoke.

"Okay, okay, Baby, I get it," it started out calm, that damn voice, but then there was a muffled maniacal cackle. "Well, someone has to die, Tara! Otherwise, this was all for nothing!" and then the monster tilted the wheelchair, tossing Tara to the floor. "Guess you made the decision on who goes first!"

The pain from gunshots, the stab wounds, the weight pressing on your back; the adrenaline rushing through your body pushed all of that away when the Ghostface pointed the gun at Tara. Get to her. Nothing else matters! You abruptly pushed your body up, digging the knife deeper into your back. That didn't matter. In a split-second decision, realizing you couldn't just get up, you stopped holding your body up and twisted as both you and the Ghostface holding you down dropped to the floor. Your right elbow landed on the side of the Ghostface's head.

At last, you did it. You were stumbling back to your feet, but it was a few moments too late.

"Tara!" your eyes met as the trigger was pulled, but instead of a gunshot, all you heard was a deafening click. The euphoria at the realization the gun was fresh out of bullets added a much-needed boost of energy to your movements as you slammed a haymaker into the Ghostface's mask. The Ghostface dropped to the floor, and just for a moment, you considered finishing it off. It would end one half of this nightmare, and the other one would be easier to deal with, but Tara's coughing getting even worse made the decision for you.

There was no time left to finish the fight or to be gentle, and you dropped to your knees next to her. Getting hurt, aggravating the wounds, those could be fixed. Suffocating when there was no way you could get her to safety quickly enough, couldn't. So, you, as carefully as the situation allowed, turned Tara around.

She whimpered, biting her lip and then immediately continued coughing. As she struggled to take a breath you put your arms beneath her knees and upper back. "I got you, okay?" Tara managed a weak nod as you got back up, your knees nearly buckling under the pressure.

The first step was torture, unsteady and painful. Your arms screamed for you to just let go. You could feel the stab wounds and the gunshot wounds getting worse due to the strain you were putting on your body.

And then there was pressure on your gunshot wound. The one near your left shoulder. Tara, despite wheezing and gasping for air, couldn't take her eyes off the wound. The third gunshot. The one that happened while the gun was in the very same hand she was using to press on the wound. The steps that came after that became easier, quicker, and before you realized it you were back in her hospital room and putting her back on the bed.

The inhaler was, luckily, easy to find and you shook it before bringing it up to Tara's lips. She wouldn't take it though. Her eyes remained glued to your wounds. She was starting to sweat now, as her breathing became more and more shallow, but she kept pressing the wound, stuck in her thoughts, and likely blaming herself for that wound.

"Tara, look at me," you pleaded, cradling her cheek with your free hand. "Tara, please," panic was setting in. "Love, look at me," that somehow seemed to snap her out of it. You couldn't blame her, you had no idea where that one came from, but it got her to look you in the eyes. And that was all you needed, just Tara not looking at all the blood covering your upper body, or the blood slowly dripping from your jaw down your neck.

Finally, her lips parted, and she accepted the inhaler, and your body relaxed as Tara's breathing gradually went back to normal. Her right hand remained pressed against your wound. "I hurt you," she cried out, clutching your shirt as tightly as she could, despite her own pain.

"No. No, you didn't. You hear me? None of this is your fault," you took her hand, gently pulling it toward your heart. "Still beating, okay?"

Tara squeezed her eyes shut and nodded as tears fell from her eyes.

“I’m okay, Tara,” you wiped her tears away, smiling slightly when she leaned into your touch, her breathing shaky, but at least her asthma wasn’t an issue right now.

Both of you heard steps and your eyes widened at the realization. It wasn't over. Tara began shaking as she dragged her hand to the back of your neck. She pulled, simultaneously pulling you closer and pushing her body closer to you. You took a deep breath, just for one more moment basking in her warmth, and then you were ready for this to be your end, as long as you took these two down with you.

"Pull the knife out," you almost forgot it was still there. "I need a weapon."

Tara's eyes widened at that, but seeing the look in your eyes and hearing the steps approaching she shakily pulled your head to her shoulder and reached down for the knife. You bunched up some of her hospital gown and your jacket she was still wearing and bit down, trying not to notice how your blood stained her clothes. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Tara kept repeating and your arms went around her as she began pulling the knife out. It hurt even more than it did when you got stabbed. You felt the blood trickling down your back, it wouldn't be long before the blood loss would kick in. You were already starting to feel lightheaded so maybe it already kicked in. All you knew was that the knife was out, that it was now on the floor next to you, that Tara was still apologizing, and that the footsteps stopped. From the sound of it, the bastard was right at the door.

You bit back a groan, picked up the knife from the floor, and got up as smoothly as you possibly could. "Damn, you're persistent..."

"I should say the same thing," the Ghostface, from his height you figured it was the one that was holding you down before, spoke. "You still want to fight?" thankfully, it looked like all the hits you landed were effective. There was an undeniable tremble in the attacker's posture. He wasn't as shaken as you were, but you had experience on your side, so things were more or less even you supposed.

"Tara is right behind me," you said, at peace with whatever was about to happen. You'd at least take these monsters down with you. As long as the other one doesn't get up right away you might actually do it. The bastard still didn't get into the hospital room. Not that it mattered. You'd wait. Maybe that would let you recover enough strength to pull through.

You felt a weak pull at your shirt and smiled somberly when you heard a sob. "Just in case I don't get another chance. You saved a life that had no right to continue. So let me-"

You were interrupted when several gunshots made the Ghostface in front of you and Tara run for cover.

"Tara!" you both heard Sam's shout and you couldn't help but grin as you looked back at Tara. Finally, there was relief in her eyes.

You sighed. "I'm getting you out of this damn town ASAP," and you would. Damn it, you would. The moment someone patched you up you'd be on your way to preferably Sacramento, or, alternatively, San Francisco. Susan was a nurse, she could take care of Tara, so you really hoped she'd let you stay at her place.

Sam rushed in along with a man you vaguely recognized. The former sheriff? You really didn't have the energy to think about that right now.

"Oh, Sam!" the relief in Tara's voice was like a balm to the wounds. Everything would be fine now.

"I'm here," Sam reassured Tara and then looked at you. "Oh, God, Y/N," yeah, you imagined there was a lot of blood, everything kind of felt wet and sticky.

"Come on, we need to get out of here," the man ushered the three of you.

"Y/N can't, she's injured," Tara sounded desperate and you couldn't blame her, you really couldn't. You were injured, she was injured, she couldn't walk and there were two murderers between you and safety.

You looked at her blankly. "You did not just..." oh, if you weren't already motivated to get the hell out of the hospital, now you'd move out of spite. You handed the knife to Sam. "How's this for 'can't', huh?" Tara yelped when you once again lifted her up. "Keep us safe?" the question was mostly directed at Sam.

"Of course," there was certainty in Sam's eyes. You could recognize that look, Tara could recognize that look. It was the same look you had plenty of times during the fight. Sam would rather die than let anything happen to Tara.

"Sam," Tara tried to speak, maybe to say something about the way they ended the conversation from earlier that day, or maybe it was something else entirely, but Sam just leaned in and kissed her forehead.

"We'll talk later," she promised softly.

The man, who you now realized was holding a gun, left the hospital room first and Sam followed him. You were the last to step outside and you looked at your options. The elevator would be the best option if you could reach it. It was far and there was a Ghostface in your path, the one that was holding Tara, the one you knocked out, at least temporarily. There was no telling how long Ghostface would stay unconscious though. Not to mention another one was still somewhere nearby. Still, the stairs, while closer, were probably even more dangerous. Not to mention that you, plain and simple, didn't have enough strength to do it. The man and Sam probably had a similar train of thought, as they began moving toward the elevator.

This time Sam was the one leading as the man remained close behind you. With the way your vision was getting blurry this really was the best option. If you and Sam switched you doubted you'd be able to fight back, like this, you were mostly moving on autopilot. You heard a commotion behind you, you were vaguely aware of Sam stopping, conflicted over helping the man or keeping her guard up in case the unconscious Ghostface regained consciousness and attacked again. You were completely aware of Tara's whimper, of her fear as she curled into you as much as she could. So, you kept moving. You passed the unconscious Ghostface, you reached the elevator, you got in. Sam got in. The man didn't.

They argue. Someone mentioned the head. Pain. Pressure on the chest. Shooting. Elevator lights.

Tara.

Too bright. The hall was dark. White flashes. Dizzy.

Tara.

Doors closing. Cold sweat. Words. Someone speaking. Buzzing. Heart is too loud. Heart. Brother.

Zack.

Keep going. In, out, two times in, out, in, two times out. Keep doing that. Keep breathing. You have to make sure Tara is safe. Keep breathing.

Tara.

Doors open. Move. Move. Move. Something pulls your head down.

Tara.

It's soft. Small. Trembling. Hand. You're moving.

Tara.

The hand vanishes. You feel lighter. Tara isn't struggling to stay in your arms. Did Sam take her? Who took her? Your vision clears just for a moment, and you see the doctors around the three of you.

Tara is safe.

Everything goes black.

~X~

Nothing could have prepared Sam for the way Tara cried out your name, raw, frightened, desperate for you to respond to her. It made Sam turn around just in time to see you stumbling back and dropping to the ground.

“Help her, please! I-“ Tara gasped, tethering on the edge of another asthma attack and causing Sam to rush to her side, to hold her and try to calm her down. “It’s my fault, it’s my fault,” Tara still cried covering her eyes with her hands and the blood stains left on her face, your blood on the side of Tara’s hospital gown and jacket… Tara felt it, the warmth and stickiness of it, the smell of it, and Sam couldn’t even begin to imagine how her sister must be feeling right now.

Sam knew you got seriously hurt, but seeing you carrying Tara made her think it wasn’t as bad as it looked. She looked back at you, just as you were being taken away, and then at the spot where you fell, and the stains of blood left behind. There was so much blood there and she feared you might not survive. It was only a fleeting fear, because you would survive. You’d survive, you’d survive for Tara. Sam had to believe I that, otherwise she’d start panicking as well.

“Sam, help Y/N,” Tara pleaded, looking up at Sam the same way she used to when they were children and thought Sam could do anything.

But Sam couldn’t do anything right now. She couldn’t help or fix you up, she could just wait with Tara.

“She’s strong, she’ll get through this,” was all she could say as she held Tara as tightly as she could without further aggravating Tara’s injuries.

Sam felt tears soaking through her shirt. “I shot her,” Tara said, and then repeated those same words, stuck in that moment, spiraling into guilt and fear and Sam had no way of helping her. She simply didn’t know how to properly approach Tara now. What to tell her, and Sam fully understood what the distance did to them. She no longer knew how to make her own sister, the person she loved the most, feel safe.

The only option remaining, before she got another asthma attack, or did something to worsen her wounds was to sedate her and check up on her injuries. And Sam? Sam felt helpless.

Even more so she saw Dewey in a body bag. Tara nearly getting killed twice, you nearly getting killed. Wes, Judy, and now Dewey, dead, all because some lunatic somehow found out she was Billy’s daughter and was now after her. In the back of her mind, she thought she didn’t deserve to be the one capable of making Tara feel safe, not when she was the reason why Tara wasn’t safe in the first place.

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter #scream #jenna ortega x reader #x reader #x female reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months ago

Text

Killing Time 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, includes violence, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: a job offer could be an escape from your old life, but the new one, may not hold freedom.

Characters: Kraven the Hunter, August Walker, Lloyd Hansen, James Conrad, God the Bounty Hunter, Court Gentry

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

The interior of the car is sleek and shiny. You don’t want to touch anything as you strap the seat belt across your torso. You feel bad enough that he insists upon getting your bags in the car. When he’s at last in the driver’s seat, you relax.

You glance out the window at the patch of grass where Jake was moments ago. He slinked away as you hid behind the tinted glass in triumph. One little victory after a year of terror.

“So, shall we?” James asks as he turns the engine. “We’ve some ways to go,” he adjusts the mirror and glances over at you. “I know it isn’t good etiquette but I must say you look beat. It won’t bother me should you doze as I drive.”

“Oh, uh,” you rub your cheek bashfully, “thanks, I... spent all night packing so--”

It’s not a complete lie and you’re sure he can fathom the truth after the morning’s confrontation. Admitting it will only make it worse. You just want to leave it all behind.

“Of course. I apologise for the short notice but thank you very much for being so accommodating,” he says.

He shifts into gear and checks his blind spot before he slowly steers away from the curb.

“Me? Thank you for the drive. I’m sure I’ve could have found a bus--”

“You would assume but as I said, the location is remote and you’d still need to get from the station to the house. I don’t mind at all. I’ve not been to the manor in some time and I’m overdue to check in on it.” He explains, “I’m happy to do so with company, if I’m to be honest.”

“Ah, okay,” you accept. You cup your hand over your mouth as a yawn rises without warning. “Mm, sorry.”

“As I said, please, rest your eyes. We have a long road,” he says. “Oh, you won’t mind some music? Any preference?”

“I’m not picky,” you assure him and lean back against the seat. Despite not wanting to check out, your body is screaming for sleep. Your muscles ease against the firm cushion and you can’t help a groan. “Whatever you like.”

You turn to look out the window, watching the streets and the few pedestrians on the pavement. Your lashes flick, weighed down by the sleepless night and the peak of adrenaline. Your head lolls and you let your eyelids close. Just for a minute and you’ll open them again...

When you stir, the car is still but idling. The engine hums and the AC flows. You look over at the empty driver seat and jolt upright. Huh?

Your panic is curtailed as the door opens and James appears with a tray of cups and a paper bag. He smiles as he lowers himself into the car and balances it all in his lap.

“I didn’t know if I should wake you but I grabbed some coffee. Sugar and cream if you need,” he wiggles free a cup and puts it in the holder. “And they had some lovely looking bagels--”

“Oh,” you wipe your chapped lips with the back of your hand. “You didn’t have to—I'm sorry I fell asleep...”

“I did expect it,” he chuckles as he hands you the paper bag. “It is your choice. I got one sesame seed and a pumpernickel. I hope that’s acceptable.”

“Mm, pumpernickel?” You clasp the top of the bag, “thanks, that’s... that’s so nice.”

“Not at all,” he takes his own cup as he puts the tray behind his seat. He inhales the scent through the slot of the lid. “Ah, not terrible. They had English.” He lifts the cup slightly. “How typical, yes? That I would rather tea.”

“I don’t mind tea,” you shrug and open the bag.

“We will eat then be back on the road. Further on, we will have something more substantial.” He explains.

You check the first bagel; sesame, and hand it to him. You sit and unwrap your own. Before you can have a bite, you gape at the digital clock in the dashboard.

“Holy... two hours?” You utter.

“Oh, yes, the time breezed by,” he remarks.

You hide a frown and bite into the toasted bagel. You feel a bit better but a glaze of dizziness lingers. You need the sleep but you’re embarrassed all the same. You shouldn’t be snoring in the passenger seat on your way to a job. After all, he’s technically your boss.

“Really, don’t worry,” he says as if he can read your mind.

“I’ll try not to,” you swallow.

You finish your food with minimal conversation. You’re still a little groggy but not as tired. You manage to stay awake as he sets off again.

You glance over at him. He’s a stranger but something about his presence is calming. So much so that you lost all wariness. After what you’ve been through with Jake, you should’ve taken a bit more time to think this through. It strikes you then that this man is taking you to some remote location, based on a single conversation...

You shake off your suspicion. It’s Jake. That’s all. He taught you distrust. Someone you thought was your friend, turned out to be a monster. Well, they say you’re more likely to be assaulted by someone you know. Maybe it’s good that you barely know James.

“How long were you in the city?” He asks, piercing through your inner turmoil.

“Oh, uh, about five years,” you answer. “I... you live there or....”

“Closeby,” he answers. “I think you can guess I’ve relocated but I do tend to hop around often. I get restless.”

“Ah, so that’s why you need a caretaker.”

“Essentially, yes,” he agrees. “I’ve not the ability to remain as long as I need. It was a colleague who suggested it. One of his rare good ideas.”

“Right,” you nod.

“Well, I trust you will keep good care of it,” he says over the steering wheel.

The journey unravels before you. It’s further than you thought, but you didn’t really pay much attention to your destination. You’re more concerned with getting away. All the business of thinking this out can wait until you can breathe.

As promised, you stop again to eat and relieve yourself. James girds only a few hours left. It’s taken most of the day to get this far and the road ahead is less a highway and more a rural path. You take your time eating, as much not to make yourself sick as to take a break from sitting in the car.

Back on the road, you feel the exhaustion fall on you again. You struggle to keep your eyes open as the evening deepens. James drives towards a thicket of trees, the moonlight flickering between them. You descend into the darkness as the car thrums through the noise of crickets and swaying leaves.

The fir thins and opens up to reveal a large stone wall and a wrought iron gate that gleams in the moonlight. The peaks of the large manor are painted silver in the night’s hue. You sit up to see it clearer. It looked big in the pictures but you’re blown away by the reality.

“A moment,” he stops and puts the car in park.

He gets out as you watch him through the gloom. He unlocks the gate and pulls it outward, just one side, enough to get through. He comes back and shifts gears, steering through and up the long paved drive. He kills the engine and sighs.

“I’ll just go lock up before we do the grand tour, if you don’t mind,” he says.

You give a noncommittal grumble as you undo your seat belt. You just want to stretch your legs. You get out parallel to him and he hurries off back toward the gate. The hinges creak loudly in the night, and eerie high-pitched noise.

As he returns, the moon hides behind a cloud and drapes his figure in black. “We’ll fetch the bags after. It’s dark out here.”

You’re too tired and uneasy to speak. Now that you’re here, the second thoughts begin. This man is still, at the core, a stranger. And more, you don’t exactly know where he’s taken you. You push back the doubt as another symptom of your year of torment. That was another man, not him.

He leads you towards the front door. You climb the curved stone steps as bats flutter off in the sky. You shiver as he unlocks the door and disappears within. A light beams through on and you shy away. He beckons you inward from behind it.

“Come,” he holds a flashlight. “We’ll need to turn the generator on.”

“Oh, uh, of course,” you agree and step inside.

He shuts the door as you enter and he turns to aim the light around the grand foyer. He slowly moves forward, sure to keep pace with you. You admire what you can in the shadows. The staircase that curls out at the bottom, and the carved posts that sharpen to points at the end of the banisters.

You follow him, huddling close without thinking. It feels as if you might get lost if you stray too far. He takes you along the hallways behind the stairs and to a narrow door at the end. He opens it and shines the light down.

“You first, I’ll keep the torch above you,” he says.

You look down the dark staircase then at him. He angles the light and brightens the way down. You turn and take the first step, and the next. Each groans beneath your weight as you put your hand on the railing. You get to the bottom and his own steps illicit creaks.

He nudges you as points the flashlight across the damp basement. It’s cold down there. You fold your arms as your teeth chatter. You go to the generator and he looks it over.

“You have the most important task,” he says and flips the light in his hand, “holding the torch.”

He offers it and you take it uncertainly. You shine it over the boxy generator and he examines it once more.

“We only need to turn the valve here,” he points, “then the choke,” he moves a rod from left to right, “turn the ignition,” he twists, “and pull the cord.” He grunts as he tugs, “just until you feel resistance and it should--” it rumbles and clanks, then mellows out to a steady hum. “There. Now, let it run for a moment and set the choke to run...” he steps back and dusts his hands off on his pants, “there’s a manual on the shelf over there in case you need to restart it, ever. Thunderstorms are not so kind here.”

“Oh, okay, uh, yeah. I’ll find that.”

“Mm, yes, well, how about tomorrow? If you don’t mind, I think I’ll be in better spirits for a tour then. Then you might see it in the light of day, eh?” He suggests. “For now, we’ll find you a place to sleep and get your bags in.”

“That sounds good,” you agree. “I am beat.”

“Me too,” he agrees. “There’s an old kettle around, I’ve some tea in my bag. If you’re interested.”

“Maybe in the morning,” you turn back to the stairs, steadying the sphere of light across them. “I just want to lay down.”

“Can’t blame you,” he trails behind you. “Given the way the day started, I’m certain you’re merely happy to be away from it all.”

“Oh...” you utter, a tinge of embarrassment nips in your cheeks. “Yeah, well, that was--- it’s over now, right?”

“Yes, a fresh start,” he agrees as you start up the stairs and he follows closely. “I do hope you find peace here.”

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fantasywater · 29 days ago

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Is Stolas actually cheating? Why or Why Not?

I've had some debates where I've been told that Stolas isn't cheating, and especially not continuously. However, I personally think that he is.

The not cheating crowd reasoning's are:

1.Only the initial act was cheating. Once Stolas screamed the morning after that he wanted a divorce than every sex act with Blitz afterwards was not.

2. Since the marriage was consentless, loveless, and abusive this means he was never cheating on her. This interpretation tallies with Stolas's words on the balcony and in Western Energy.

3. Divorce only takes one person's consent and Stolas called it so he's free to fuck whomever, whenever, and wherever.

My rebuttals:

1.It's still cheating until that balcony scene where he calls for the divorce and kicks her out.Because even after his petty moment of triumph he still tries to placate her, and she's still living in the house. She is also still eating dinner like a family while still very much pissed at what he keeps doing.

I also find it ironic that only when he finally stops being passive and goes through with the divorce is when he also finally stops sleeping with Blitz for good. He went backwards with it. Which means he absolutely would have kept blatantly cheating(as well as kept Blitz in the deal) if the dropoff wake-up call hadn't happened.

2. No one gets to redefine a word just because the character doing it is a fan favorite. Stolas is committing infidelity by the very definition of it. He's an adulterer and a victim of domestic violence. Both are true at the same time.

Basically Stolas as a character can think what he's doing is indeed not cheating,but this doesn't mean the narrative agrees with him.

Narrative disagreement: Stella and Octavia's call-outs in Loolooland. Asmodeus's call out in Ozzie's. Via's pain again in Seeing Stars. Andre's call out in Western Energy. Via yet again in the Sinmas leaks.

Out of all the people I've listed I think the narrative has been very consistent in using Octavia to drive home that his cheating was wrong, and therefore damaging, regardless of what he personally thinks about it.

3. Yes, he called for divorce, but he cheated to initiate it therefore breaking his daughter's peace and mental health in the process.

The Via angle will always be why despite his pain his cheating still makes him an asshole. As well as the fact that he kept doing it even after his daughter told him that it was negatively affecting her.

Do you all agree with the view that both parties need to consent if they want to have sex with other people during separation or divorce proceedings,and especially if one spouse still has feelings, is pissed, or sad about it?

I know for example celebrities very much sleep around when they're only separated or in the various stages of divorce though they're technically still married.

Other bits:

Anyone else think Stolas's take back my power moment against Stella was lacking?

I mean it didn't really hit because there was no strong buildup of her wronging him.

But there's plenty of him wronging her with his frequent and remorseless cheating, and therefore her negative actions are because of that inciting incident.

To me Blitz and Via's felt earned while Stolas's didn't.

We had a whole season(honestly Stars and Western as well) of Stolas wronging Blitz so when he so strongly lashed out in Full Moon it truly felt cathartic.

Same with Via. We have two full episodes of this man repeatedly neglecting his own child for his affair partner and breaking her mental health. So when the third time happened and she has her take back my power moment I cheered.

With Stolas however I should have been cheering, and in a vacuum it wasn't a bad scene,but then the buildup was pretty bad because he has been onscreen for a season, and the circus bedroom scene, very much wronging Stella not the other way around.

Thoughts?

#helluva boss critical #anti stolitz #anti stolas #helluva boss octavia #helluva boss stella #helluva boss

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admiral-mason · 1 month ago

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Ultra-Impact Part 3

Idea based on @valeriele3's Live Stream post.

Forgot to mention this in the last posts (I've edited in though), but reader is Gender Neutral (GN)

Warning: Violence and gore. Also Hakita saying things that he likely has never said.

0-2 0-3 << YOU ARE HERE 0-4

PRELUDE /// THIRD WEIGHT OF TWO WORLDS

TWO WORLDS ARE BINDED THROUGH A SINGULAR SCREEN.

A complete and utter destruction of the senses.

This is the best way to describe the current event: V1 blasting the absolute hell out of the 3AM Among Us Potion Knights of Favonius with his arsenal. Peeking from behind a rock at a distance, you watched V1 blast a swordsman Knight in the face with its shotgun before parrying an arrow from another and shooting him with the revolver.

It then proceeded to ground slam into a small group of them before knuckleblasting them, leaving nothing behind but guts and blood puddles on the floor (and you wincing silently). Then, Amber manages to land an arrow on V1; unfortunately, it harmlessly bounces right off and V1 turns its camera-like head right at her and swaps to its Sawn-On shotgun. As you slowly looked away, flesh squelching and bone breaking accompanied the outrider's screeching screams of agony.

In the head of the battle, you attempted to gather your thoughts and deal with the pain in the right arm thanks to Amber's arrow. Is this how it felt to witness Ultrakill in real life? You never expected weapons such as the Knuckleblaster and shotgun to create ear-piercing noise that no Earth weapon matched.

You also noticed how V1 never used any explosive damage; not even projectile boosts, despite its ease of accomplishment. In fact, its current actions force the Knights to focus on it and not you. Perhaps Teyvat sent it here to guard you in this Impostor SAGAU world. Your arrow pain dwindled quicker than normal too; probably another random little power gimmick.

However, your time to dwell on such thoughts ran out when noises best described in the onomatopoeia "BRRRRRRRTTT" followed by the sounds of penetrated flesh resounded in the air. Peeking over your rock, you witnessed V1 blast the last of the Knights including Kaeya with its nailgun.

Looking at the carnage V1 left in its wake, you noticed something bizarre.

Instead of laying limp, the blood and flesh of the dead knights began fading away into glowing red dust.

Much of [streaming platform] buffered and suffered an outage for a good couple of hours, with the cause of the sudden shutdown leaving even the site's administrators and management team fumbling in confusion.

Coincidentally, many users reported that their instances of the game Ultrakill suddenly crashed and refused to boot up afterward despite their computer and Steam page acting normally. Hakita put out an official statement regarding the matter:

"Okay, I will be real. I can't do anything to the game on my end either. I can't edit it, open any files, get assets, hell even all of my videos on my YouTube channel are missing without reason. So for now, all we have access to is this Discord server."

(Some people thought that he did this after a petition to reconstruct V2 exceeded twice its supporters)

A few people watching your stream coincidentally noted that it suddenly ended without explanation before [streaming platform] died.

The combination of these events spurred mass panic on the internet; Videos theorizing that some foreign nation or 'master hacker' committed a cyber attack to steal valuable information ran rampant on Instagram, Facebook, YouTube, you name it. Meanwhile, users on [streaming platform] took to platforms such as Reddit and Discord to share their perspectives on what happened, with a select few even touting that God had shut the sites down as a warning to humanity's current sins.

Thankfully, the anomalous instances reverted and disappeared in a few hours, except for your account on [streaming platform]. Instead of displaying your past streams, it simply displayed a single live stream:

THE FIRE IS LIT.

It bore a thumbnail shot of what appeared to be somewhere in Genshin, looking at a small camp with a tent, a campfire, and a pot boiling over said campfire. The chat slowly started with one or two messages before rapidly exploding with "what is this" or "what happened" responses or something along those lines. Then, two familiar figures showed up on-screen:

It was you and V1, and the latter carried you in a bridal style.

Of all the things you expected to do in life, having V1 bridal-style carrying you wasn't on the list. After it killed all the Knights of Favonius, it took your right arm and inspected the area injured by the arrow before swiftly pulling it out much to your discomfort.

After you gritted your teeth and grimaced in response to the sudden pain, V1 made a small dent in one of its arms allowing its blood to flow onto your wound. Miraculously, the blood let the injured area grow back and your pain rapidly dissipated leaving you both amazed and bewildered.

During this time, you noted how V1 managed to fit its three left arms all placed on its side; a sort of circular device connecting the arms to the torso allowed them to cycle between one another.

V1 then let you go and handed you a revolver; specifically, the regular Sharpshooter revolver. "For me?" You asked the supreme machine, pointing to yourself as you did so. It simply nodded in response and gestured for you to take it. You did and put the electric gun in your right pants pocket, hoping no misfires occur.

Once that happened, V1 suddenly scooped you into its arms before dash-jumping away with you deeper into the forest. Oddly enough, the smell of a soup or stew grew ever stronger the more distance you two covered in the woods. After a couple of minutes, V1 put you down at your destination.

The robot brought you to a campsite with an open campfire and a pot over said fire. It's safe to assume that the pot contained the soup or stew that currently emanates the smell. A crude tent seemingly stolen from an adventurer stood behind the fire.

The last noteworthy object in the area caught your attention: a black-and-white splotched Terminal. Located right next to the tent, the terminal displayed your Twitch chat on the left side and its main screen on the right. Once you stood in front of it, it printed out:

"GREETINGS, GODFATHER. PLEASE TAKE SOME TIME TO INTERACT WITH YOUR FOLLOWERS IN THE OTHER WORLD."

A camera then revealed itself above the screen and you knew what you had to do. Stepping in front of the camera, you waved. "Hello? Chat can you see me??"

And then, the floodgates busted wide open.

Adm!ra1-M4son: Oh my god GUYS OUR BOY'S ALIVE

johnifer: Holy shizzle drizzle crick crack he's fucking alive

valeriele3 donated $5.00: "Oh my god! Are you okay??"

"Yeah- I'm fine. Thanks for the donation by the way even if I have no idea how to use it right now..."

V1 then proceeded to make itself known as well. Moving you a bit to the side, it waved both of its hands seemingly eager to introduce you to your fans. The chat went wild again.

hiraya: omg is that V1??

LiNk29: Nah man bro got isekaid with the gopro...

BeeseChurger: SOMEONE SEND THIS TO HAKITA RIGHT THE FUCK NOW

Yuormethor: On it chief.

Simply put, this strange terminal allowed you to see your Twitch followers again, which was nice. V1 then left its spot in front of the terminal and checked on the pot. Sure enough, when you moved on over to it, there was a soup with radishes and tomatoes as its main ingredients. V1 likely got them from theft, but you didn't care- food is food after all.

The robot used a ladle in the pot to scoop some stew into a wooden bowl, which it then handed to you along with a spoon. Taking in its aroma, smells of radishes, tomatoes, and some mint filled your nose and you slowly took a small sip.

(A/N: Guess the soup.)

The soup's taste bore both a tart and sweet flavor, with a little bit of refreshment with some added mint. As you savor your first meal in Teyvat, your chat watches you do so.

kpfjillion: give me that fucking soup

XxcSHARPxX: Give this man peace for the Impostor SAGAU shit he's gonna come across lmfao

hiraya: he'll be fine! I'm sure of it.

After the fifth sip, you heard mechanical footsteps behind you before they stopped. You turned around and saw a familiar adversary V1 fought, and the two of you stared into each other's gaze.

"Well, nice to meet you in person, godfather."

V2.

Taglist: @valeriele3, @bunniotomia, @feetusdeletussthenyeetus

#sagau #genshin impact #genshin sagau #crossover #genshin x reader #ultrakill #ultrakill v1 #v1 #v1 ultrakill #sagau impostor au #impostor sagau #impostor au #ultrakill v2 #v2 ultrakill #v2 #sagau cult au

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