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farfromharry · 3 years ago

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The nurse’s office | Peter Parker fic

Summary: Sometimes Peter forgets about his super strength. He simply wanted to put Brad Davis in his place when he tried to make a mockery of him, and now he was sitting in the nurses office with a very pretty, very concussed girl; oh and it was all his fault.

Word count - 2461

Warnings - injury, probably language

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Peter Parker was not the kind of guy that played sports. Before the spider bite the thought of any kind of physical exercise repulsed him, stole his breath just thinking about it. As a nerd he didn’t have the kind of endurance for that kind of thing.

Even now, with super abilities, he still didn’t really enjoy the idea. He thought people would be confused how such a skinny, nerdy kid suddenly became an all-star sport’s player. So he simply didn’t try— Plus he was rather content sticking to lego builds and science books.

But one thing he couldn’t stand was people challenging him to try and show off. ‘People’ being none other than Brad Davis.

He thought he could make fun of Peter and try to impress some random group of girls all in one. Challenging the boy to try and beat him in a quick game of hoops as he called it. In any other circumstance he would’ve declined, let him take the win and boast all he wanted, because truly Peter didn’t have the patience to amuse a jock like him when all Brad wanted was to humiliate the poor boy. Which is why he got so irritated so easily. He just wanted to prove him wrong and then go back to his conversation with Ned, but the universe is never on little old Peter Parker’s side.

You just so happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. You’d been chatting with a friend on the sidelines, paying zero attention to the essential testosterone war going on behind you. Peter had nothing against you, hell he didn’t actually know you. He was aware you were in a few of his classes but you were usually quiet and didn’t talk to many people if you didn’t have to. But from what he’d gathered you were sweet, kind to everyone you did talk to, and completely innocent to Brad Davis’ antics.

Which is why you weren’t paying attention when the two boys started throwing the basketball around. The taller of the two was doing wonders to hide his surprise that Peter could even make a basket from the distance he was standing, but there was no way he was going to be out performed in front of a group of hot girls by nerdy Peter Parker.

Realistically he shouldn’t have gotten so aggressive, and Peter shouldn’t have retaliated in the same way, not when he knew how dangerous his super strength could be. He could lift a bus with his bare hands, nevermind the damage he could do with a simple rubber ball if he threw it hard enough.

Unfortunately for you, that’s what he did. Though it was aimed at his opponent rather than you, the man actually saw it coming. Meaning you were the unsuspecting victim of Peter’s careless plot for revenge.

“Look out!” he yelled, watching as the ball flew through the air in the direction of the wrong person, too fast for even him to get to without exposing himself as the masked web slinger hero.

He winced when he saw the rubber collide right with your head, hearing the gasp of shock you let out from the sudden pain spreading through you.

“Shit,” you cursed, hand coming up to clutch your forehead once the ball had bounced away from you. All you could feel was the pain from the hit, barely even able to hear the commotion it’d caused around you.

You barely recognised your friends in the growing crowd of people when you looked up, the blinding lights of the gym causing you to hiss in pain. Peter was the person that blocked out the direct light with his body, standing in front of you so he could do his best to check on your current state.

“I am so sorry,” he apologised profusely, panicking as he didn’t quite know how he was meant to help in this situation. This is exactly why Peter never played sports.

Obviously the ever so compassionate jock, Brad seemed to find some humour in the situation, although it wasn’t much appreciated by anyone that was just trying to check if you were okay. “Way to go Parker.”

He tuned him out so he didn’t have to hear him, lightly placing his hands on your arms when he noticed you were swaying in an attempt to steady you.

“Are you okay?” His spidey sense told him you very much weren’t, and he was already feeling awful. The look on your face wasn’t good, a mix of discomfort and confusion that had him worrying a large amount for someone he barely knew.

“My head hurts,” you whined. There was also the addition of a slight sick feeling in your stomach, the hit having knocked off your balance and caused some motion sickness from the way the room spun.

“I know, I know,” he cooed. It was too difficult for you to even think at the moment, so you didn’t question why the boy was being so sympathetic. If this was any other Midtown boy the most you would’ve gotten was an apology and then they would’ve simply scurried away from the scene so they didn’t get into trouble.

He saw the slight change in your features, seeing the way your nose scrunched up and you began to sway. “I don’t feel so good.”

And that was the last thing you said before falling backwards, barely caught by the brunette to stop you hitting your head on the solid floor. Peter cursed quietly under his breath, readjusting where his hands were in order to lift you.

“Let’s get you to the nurse.” There were a few shocked gasps when he hoisted you up into his arms. Most of Midtown knew Peter Parker as the kid who failed to do a pushup in gym one year, and now here he was carrying a whole limp person with such ease.

He brushed off the confused stares though, not wanting to get himself tangled in a web of lies that he’d never get out of, all to protect his real, super secret, reason.

It wasn’t every day you saw one of the school’s biggest nerds carrying a limp body through the halls, hence why Peter got so many strange looks from bystanders that’d just been visiting their lockers or switching between classes. He ignored them of course, dead set on getting you right to the nurse’s office to get you checked over. God, May would be pissed if she found out he’d severely injured you.

»»——⍟——««

The two of you were in the office for quite some time before you regained consciousness. The nurse had called your mother and informed her about what had happened and how you were currently doing, which is the only way Peter knew what damage he’d caused.

But eventually it’d passed the point of too long for the older woman to just sit and wait like the teenage boy, so she’d left you to his nervous company.

So when you woke up Peter was there and ready with an explanation he’d been preparing the whole time you were out. What gave away your consciousness to him was the way your heart rate elevated slightly, the boy sitting forward in his seat to prepare for when you spoke.

You whimpered sadly when the light hit your fluttering eyes, raising your hand to block it out of your sight like a sort of shield. “What’s going on?”

You awkwardly removed the ice pack from your head too, eyes squinting to look at it with a clear expression of confusion that Peter had no problem clearing up for you.

“Hey, hey. You have a mild concussion, you need to keep that on there.” He was so gentle when placing the ice back onto your head that you could’ve sworn you fell in love right then and there.

“A concussion?” you asked rhetorically. You didn’t understand how a simple injury could cause it. You’d seen many sports players be hit with these things and they always walked away fine, why were you any different?

Obviously you didn’t know that the teen in front of you was enhanced, if you did then it’d all probably make sense, but Peter couldn’t risk telling you that. The male saw that you were clearly struggling to put it together, and in an attempt to save his identity, changed subjects.

“Is- um, is the room okay? Do you feel any better?”

“The lights are too bright,” you complained, head beginning to pound concerningly more when you could no longer stop the harsh brightness from getting into your eyes. The brunette was quick to leap up from his seat and press the light switch, but you found that the natural daylight leaking into the room wasn’t much fun either, and that was something he unfortunately couldn’t just switch off.

“I-I can’t do anything about that other light,” he explained. You were disappointed but you understood, humming quietly to confirm it was okay. He saw the way your eyes fluttered shut again, presuming you were trying to hide from any kind of brightness.

There were a few moments of awkward silence, the only sounds being your synced breathing. Peter didn’t know what to say, or even if you wanted to talk. He assumed you were mad at him for what he did, but he wasn’t exactly the best at spotting emotions when they weren’t outright stated to him, especially with a person he knew nearly nothing about.

And you were almost exactly that. Don’t get him wrong, he knew who you were, basic information like your name and who your friends were, but this might’ve been the longest conversation he’s had with you yet, and it all started with him very violently throwing a ball at your head.

“So, it was you that hit me with the basketball?” You asked. Seeing as you’d had your back turned you didn’t see the culprit, so you simply wanted to confirm he was being this nice because it was him. He looked down at his feet, cheeks blushing a soft pink shade as he hummed. “You really know how to make a girl swoon, huh?” you teased. You blinked open your eyes for a second to see both the apples of his cheeks and the tips of his ears tinting a brighter pink shade, pulling a giggle out of you.

It took him a little bit to get out of his embarrassed state, but when he did he was more than willing to keep up the playful banter.

“Well I did quite literally have you falling at my feet,” he carried on. Your eyes flickered over to him, seeing the tiny smile that signalled he was holding back a laugh and you couldn’t help but let out your own giggle at his joke.

Over the next hour or so you learnt how truly sweet Peter was. You’d never really gotten the chance to know him past his name, but now you were happy that you did. He was just so incredibly sweet.

“I must say, if anyone was going to give me a concussion, I’m glad it was you.”

He chuckled, nodding his head. You sent him a sweet smile, and maybe your eyes lingered on one another's for a little bit too long.

“And I’m glad I gave it to you.” His words only hit him a few seconds after they’d left his mouth, quickly shaking his head as he tried to furiously explain that wasn’t what he meant. “No- I- I’m not glad I gave you a concussion, I-“

You’d never seen a teenage boy so embarrassed, especially not one of the ones from Midtown who were known for being cocky and overconfident. “You’re cute, Parker.”

That just about killed him.

Neither of you really knew what to say after that. Peter was much too in his head after your compliment to even think of eligible words he could say to you, and you were still in quite a lot of pain so the silence was actually rather welcoming.

Only when the nurse re-entered her office to tell you your mother was here did you actually start talking again.

He was nice enough to help you stand up, making sure you were a hundred percent balanced before he let go. Once again you appreciated his help, hence why you didn’t want this to just be a one time encounter, you’d like to get to know him a little better.

He walked with you through the empty halls of the school building, making small talk and occasionally making the other laugh until you reached the outside of the building.

You turned to him before making your departure. “Do you have any paper?”

He thought about it for a second before reaching into his pocket, pulling out what you assumed was a random, old subway ticket. He watched you pull out a pen and struggle to find someplace, which ended up just being your hand, that you could rest the flimsy paper in order to write on it.

You were done within seconds, putting your pen away and outstretching your hand to him.

“Here.” You handed him the scrap of paper you’d scribbled on with a devious smile, watching the boy intently as he took it from you. He was uncertain at first from your scattered handwriting, probably a side effect of the concussion, but he was quick to work out that you’d just given him your number. An actual girl, had given Peter, her number. That really was a first for him.

“What’s this for?” he asked, trying desperately to hide the dumb grin threatening to make itself known on his face. A girl had never given him her number before, at least not with the intent of using it for something other than the answers to science homework.

“To keep you updated,” you innocently shrugged. His eyes kept flickering down to the new contact displaying your name and back up to you, where you were now making your way to your mother’s car. He had to nearly shout just so you’d be able to hear him from your new distance. “On what exactly?”

“How well I’m healing. See you later, Parker.” You gave him one of them cutesy small waves that made his heart burst, the boy struggling to reciprocate from how flustered he was. Although that hadn’t been an isolated experience in the time he’d spent with you today, he’d pretty much been a stuttering, love-sick puppy the entire time.

You didn’t hear him respond after climbing into your mom’s car, but he still tried anyway with a dumb smile plastered to his face.

“Yeah, see you later.”

peter parker taglist → @call-me-baby-gir1 @parkerlovebot @sinisterspidey @givebuckyhisplumsnow @lowkey-holland @hollandcrush @wizkiddx @sannie-san-shine @sonnydoesrandomshit @hopeless-romantic-baby @thehumanistsdiary @dummiesshort @itsbieberxholland @lillucyandthejets @bvttercupbby @spideyspeaches @celestialholland @captainamirica @lou-la-lou @slutforsr @tayyx @annathesillyfriend @paninipress @lovableparker @whoeveniskendall @dhtomholland @multixfandomwriter @magicalxdaydream @hallecarey1 @avengers-hamiltrash @aayaissaa @jacksnoodles @edmundspevensea @lovehollandy12 @peterbenjiparker @the-girl-in-the-chair @tom-softie @rqmanoff @hogwartsmarvelmommy @elishi03 @mn-jun @nocturnalms @kayasholland @peter-parkers-gf @wrendermeuseless @ladyluvr @ccosmic-illusion @camelliaflow3r @ellabellabus07

#peter parker #tom holland #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagines #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader

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wincestisasincest · 3 years ago

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Waves on the Shore - Chapter 10: Hands of Time

Viktor x Fem!Reader slow burn enemies to lovers

x posted on ao3 // WOTS masterlist

Summary: Jayce and Viktor questioning you about your weapon (made with farm-fresh Hextech) is the only thing keeping you from going to jail for science crimes. You and Viktor are literally at each others throats lmao. Also you’re from Bilgewater because pirates are fucking rad

Notes: THIS IS SO LATE RIP TO ME. If you are unaware, I spent the week without my usual meds and having 10000 allergic reactions every time I breathed so that is why. On that note, though, tHANK YOU to everyone who told me to stop being stupid and take care of myself and stuff y'all are too nice. ALSO this one may have a lot of typos but I didn't want to delay it any further so. I will still try to update this Friday now that I am not actively dying.

Some things that you may or may not care about:

- The song that is referenced is "Leave Her, Johnny" and it is a real pirate song!!!! I've linked it if you want to listen and see what it sounds like (spoiler alert it fucking slaps)

- Also, the Demacian steel is something I made up but I based it off of damascus steel from real life it's not relevant to the story but isn't it fucking cool?

Anyway, thanks for your patience and enjoy this week's episode of Supernatural

Word Count: 8.1k

Tags: @edenstarkk, @modernamilf, @dedicated2viktor, @doctorho, @yeehawbvby, @arcaneparx, @the-lake-is-calling

Mentions of: Suicide (Jayce's attempt), dismemberment, corpses, imperialism (booooooo), kidnapping

Triggers: Panic attack, self-harm (kinda? like it's not deliberate but they end up being fine with the pain and not stopping), dead animals, animal dissection (it's the mouse), language

This was the best chance that you had.

Caitlyn told you that the market was the place to connect with the staff of Piltover’s wealthy houses. In the early afternoon, before dinner but after lunch, they would descend upon the stalls with cultivated lists of what they needed at the house, exchanging gossip with each other as they shopped.

Only upon arrival did you realize how hard it would be to actually enter one of these conversations.

They zipped the square like bees in a hive, a blur of different earth-toned lapel dresses and baskets of goods, heads absentmindedly following the chatter as their feet automatically took them to their next destination. There were signs, but no one was looking at them. There was no question about it, these people had a rhythm, and hell if they were going to let some outsider like you disrupt it.

It wasn’t all them – you considered yourself an outsider too. Even if there was camaraderie to be had, you knew that you weren’t “working class.” You’d only gotten your first real job a few days ago, and before that, you didn’t work so much as barely scrape by through leeching off of other people. These maids and nannies and butlers, however little hey were paid, still made their own living. Your living never really felt like your own.

But, this was the best chance that you had to, maybe, make it your own someday.

You’d given up on trying to fool the wealthy of Piltover. Your first week on income and you’d already had to be told that water was free and tried to haggle something that wasn’t supposed to be haggled. That, combined with the fact that you were a bad liar around rich people because you enjoyed upsetting them, meant that they would figure you out in seconds. So, you had to take the alternative route of getting one of the house staff to put in a good word for you.

You blinked forcefully. Fretting about the time bomb of winter break in the background was just another waste of time. You fell into sloppy step with everyone else, like an instrument on the off beats, hoping to god that you would naturally fall into some small talk while you were buying what you needed.

One of the stalls caught your eye. A middle aged woman with withered, skinny fingers and a thousand-yard stare attended the counter. A patchwork of vibrant fabric swaths curtained off the area behind her.

“Hi,” you said plainly, hands folded in front of you, “I need a needle and thread.”

Now that you were staying long-term, you decided to invest in clothes that actually fit, even if it meant you’d have to fit them yourself.

The woman pressed her palms into the wood table, looking you up and down, making no effort to hide her judgement.

“We don’t sell that here, sweetheart,” she grunted, “it’s just fabric.”

“Oh. Okay,” you said dumbly, “uh… thanks.”

Great start. This might take a while, you thought, turning on your heel.

“Wait, wait,” she reached her hand out, eyelids slack like it physically pained her to look at you, “we might have something.”

She crouched behind the counter, abandoning you to linger by the stall in modest banality while the rest of the world moved on without you. Snippets of conversations that you weren’t a part of flitted past your ear like butterflies.

And then you heard it.

Everything else was muffled as the honed notes of a tune you could recognize even if you were deaf passed behind you like a ghost. The person humming it kept moving, clearly not here for you.

You turned your head and saw the back of a woman, with white frizzy hair, black heels, and a black overcoat, be absorbed into the crowd.

“Excuse me,” you said when the lady reemerged from behind the counter, not making eye contact as you drifted back into the channel of moving servants.

The melody circled around your head like twine on a spinning wheel. It was “Leave Her, Johnny” – relatively foreign to anyone in the Bilge who made a halfway honest living. It was traditionally sung on the last day of a voyage, with the lyrics playfully reworded to make fun of the captain or quartermaster of the ship. It was a song for vessels where disrespect towards authority was the norm. It was a song for pirates.

You ducked under bags of produce and split conversations in half as you dug through the crowd, eyes trained on what you were pretty sure was the back of her coat and ears attuned to her fond humming. The square was too congested to run in, but you kept a quick pace and deliberate step. Her coat was growing smaller and her humming quieter.

Further into the market, you were suffocated by the noise. It felt like you were attached to the handle of a music box, getting nauseous as the melody kept going around and around and around, supplemented by talking and clacks of dark colored heels just like the ones the woman wore. But you clung to that humming like a life raft.

You were a little kid that had lost their parents, bobbing their head around in circles, looking for people who were definitely somewhere, just not here. You got on your tip toes and looked over the field of heads for a wisp of white hair. Nothing.

The music in your ears curdled and the humming vanished. She was gone.

You started to hyperventilate as thick coats whizzed past you like freight trains. They all looked the same from down here. You were sinking, getting swallowed by a wave of discordant talking and clacking, and now, your own heartbeat. Panic shot up from your stomach.

You were finally losing it, you figured. What if you had imagined it all? What if that woman wasn’t even real? Alarms fired from all the synapses in your brain, some telling you to get started, some telling you that you were already out of time, and some telling you that you were in trouble.

You inhaled, gathering up all your might to plow through the wall of people and release yourself into the other side of the market. You gulped at the air, a classic fish out of water.

Bending over, hands on your knees, you focused on the cracks in the street, weaving through the cobblestones like a stream. When you blinked, you could feel your pulse through your eyelids.

A panic attack. Or an anxiety attack. You didn’t know the difference, and you weren’t sure what you were panicked or anxious about. Everything in Piltover, everything in your life, felt so big that you couldn’t even begin to assign specific emotions to things yet. It was all under the umbrella of cautious awe; trying to look for your future felt like staring up at a skyscraper.

The melody floated through your numb skull as you regained whatever the hell you’d lost in there. Maybe sanity, maybe reason, or maybe hope. But you didn’t have an infinite supply, and soon, you were going to run out.

*****

Viktor watched you flinch again as the final holt of blue lightning exploded from the mini portal circuit with a pathetic, but kind of cute, pop. You screwed your eyes shut until the sound had completely dissipated, and just a little longer, for good measure.

You tentatively opened one eye, confirming that everything was okay, and then exhaled as you opened the second one. You blinked, your eyelashes fluttering like white flags.

“Damn it all,” you groaned, plopping into the chair you’d burst up from a moment ago.

You prodded the charred mess with your finger, soaking in the dissatisfaction. Viktor could see the smoke curl in the air even from where he was sitting – you must’ve completely fired the circuit.

Viktor hated to admit that it brought him a little… not joy, but reassurance. He was reminded that you could, in fact, fail at things like everyone else. Jayce had the same thought, exchanging a look with Viktor from the other side of the lab as if asking who should interrupt your sulking first.

Jayce took the initiative, crossing his arms casually.

“Y’know, I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you mess up,” he said with a half-smile. A stranger would’ve mistaken it for pleasure, but Viktor know that Jayce wasn’t cruel enough for that. There was no malice here, he was just trying to lighten the mood with humor.

“The cannon,” you mumbled, eyes laser-focused on the clutter in front of you.

“Ah… not really your fault,” he countered.

You dragged your hands down your face.

“Don’t worry, I can fix this thing, and I’ll figure out how to…”

And the words were lost on Viktor as he put his energy into analyzing you. Your brows froze into a permanent, impatient furrow, occasionally twitching with the fretful ups and downs in your voice. You weren’t looking at them anymore, but at your own hands as they offered weak gestures to compliment your speaking. Oh, Viktor thought, this actually bothered you.

Failure bothered him too, so he wasn’t going to get on your case about it, but your reaction was… unexpected. Not unlike that time you’d covered your jail cell in equations. You were making a weak effort to stay composed as you addressed them, but the non-verbal cues gave you away.

“Sounds good,” Jayce’s comment snapped Viktor out of his thoughts, “any idea what happened?”

“You sighed, picking up some pieces that the explosion had scattered across the table and dropping them into a pile.

“Yeah,” you said curtly, “just gonna take a little while to correct. What about those, uh… Ionians?”

Viktor returned his focus to the open mouse, raking through its exposed systems for any lead on its death. He remembered dissecting animals in one of the biology classes at the Academy, and he hated it as much then as he did now.

Even though they were already dead, the poor animals looked so tortured spread out on that table, formaldehyde fuming from their guts. It was paradoxical, how one could be reminded that this was a living being with just as much complexity as a human, and then told to break that being down until it no longer resembled anything with a conscience.

The skin underneath the mouse’s fur was stretched and thin, tearing in places that Viktor hadn’t even touched yet. He kept the conversation between you and Jayce in the background like radio to distract himself.

“What about ‘em?” Jayce crossed the room to you.

“Did you say they like… needed help?”

Viktor clicked his tongue quietly. The mouse’s intestines still had bits of cheese in it, which should’ve been impossible with everything else Viktor had uncovered.

“They do, but we don’t wanna rush things here,” Jayce said.

“Well, sure, but couldn’t you send them some aid in the meantime?”

“No can do.”

“Why not?”

“Noxus. We would alienate them.”

Viktor checked his notes again, running down the list. Flaky skin, lost hair, bloated belly, and, most importantly, tissue breakdown.

“And you’re not alienating them by helping the refugees?”

“Not at all. Even Noxians don’t like casualties of civilians – if no one is left then there’s not really anyone to have power over.”

“That’s disgusting,” you said flatly, “I hope the Ionians win.”

“That’s Noxus,” Jayce shrugged, “though, I’ll admit, I thought you’d be a bit more on board with this whole thing.”

No, Viktor mentally corrected him, Jayce thought that he knew you well enough to make predictions. Jayce thought that you were his friend.

“Why’s that?” you perched your chin on your hand.

“Prioritizes lives saved over everything else. Sounds like your brand.”

“I’ve got a brand now?” you masterfully deflected the question.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe you can draw me a logo or something.”

Jayce chuckled. Shit, you were actually kind of his friend.

“You’ve seen my work?” Jayce said cheekily, and Viktor could practically hear the smug eyebrow raise.

“Uh, yeah. Every time I pass by your desk it looks like an art museum.”

Viktor noticed Jayce’s art too, when he first looked through his notes. It wasn’t a hidden talent, but it wasn’t something that he advertised about himself either.

“What can I say? I’m a creative at heart.”

“I’ll try to keep up then.”

“Psh, you keep up fine. I’ve seen your sketches – way better than most engineering students.”

“I use a ruler to get the lines straight.”

“Oh. Well then yeah, maybe stick to other stuff.”

You snorted.

Viktor was caught in a deluge of déjà vu listening to your banter. Jayce sounded just like he did when Viktor first started working with him. For some reason, he felt angry.

Exhaling with frustration, he set his eyes on his work and jerked his train of thought back onto the rails.

The mouse’s death was impossible because it had died of starvation in less than 12 hours, with a partially full stomach.

Viktor brushed the errant, ripped out pages filled with his observations of the plants and opened his notebook to a clean piece of paper.

“Pardon me,” a new voice, slick but reserved, like honey seeping down the back of the throat, entered into the room.

Something about the sobriety in it stopped Viktor’s pen just short of reaching the paper. He didn’t need to look up to know who it was, but he did anyway.

“What’s up?” Jayce asked, the intonation of his question just a little too high for it to be natural.

“I’m afraid I have some bad news,” Mel folded her hands, casting a long shadow into the hallway.

*****

You rubbed your arms and switched the weight between your legs in front of the door, trying to retain some warmth. Viktor didn’t knock.

“It’s cold, hurry up,” you snapped, more aggressively than you intended.

He just contemplated the brass knocker and rested his hands on his cane, silent.

“We need a plan,” he determined.

“Couldn’t have talked about this on the way… here…” you faltered, instantly mesmerized by the cloud of your own breath that appeared in front of you, “Woah. I didn’t know that you could…”

You slowed down your words and just started exhaling plumes of frozen air, toying with new combinations.

“Why… if we breath out carbon dioxide then how can we see it in the air…?” you said, watching each word dissolve into the cold.

Viktor glanced at you from the side. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that you caught him off guard. He put his free hand in his jacket pocket and faced you.

“It’s not just carbon dioxide – there’s also moisture from your mouth and lungs. That’s what you’re seeing,” he explained, unusually even-tempered.

“Cool,” you hadn’t looked at him once the entire time, but you could feel his eyes on you, “so… what were you saying?”

“We’re not going in there until we’ve decided on what we’re going to say,” he said, returning to his normal, grumpy baritone, “and it’s not my fault that you didn’t bring a jacket.”

“I’m sorry, I was a little distracted,” you gestured to the door with one hand, letting the other run through your hair, “I mean, fuck, what a thing to drop on a Wednesday morning.”

“Then you can only imagine how Alex will feel.”

You crouched down, seating yourself on the stoop of the house. Elbows on your knees, you stared into the empty street. It was already relatively far from the city, as is expected for a safehouse, and the added cold weather that would keep people from going outside even in the middle of the day effectively rendered this distant edge of Piltover a ghost town.

Viktor was right, You can’t just go in there, guns blazing, and expect things to not end with you clawing each other’s eyes out while Alex processed some new trauma in the background.

“I- you should be the one to say it,” you said to the open, “I don’t think I’ll be able to do it, uh… kindly.”

“I will not be any better.”

“Yes, you will. Trust me,” you started to idly watch your breath dance through the air again, “I can, uh… hold the tissues.”

“He may require physical comfort. If so, he will not want it from the person who tells him.”

“What do you mean ‘physical comfort?’ I can like, hold his hand or something,” you looked over your shoulder. Viktor was trying to be neutral, but his lips were closed too tightly, and you clocked pent up frustration in a second.

“Can you at least try to take this seriously?” he pinched his nose. Apparently you had said the wrong thing again.

“Wha- I am!” you threw your hands in the air, “Gods, I’m not trying to piss you off right now, y’know? I just… well, I warned you, I’m not good at this stuff.”

You looked forward again before he could say something foul to your face. Instead, you saw his scuffed leather shoes in your peripheral vision as he stood on the other side of the stoop, watching the street with you.

“No kidding,” he said thoughtfully, “and… apologies. Our strategy will have to change, though.”

“Oh, great.”

“I will take care of the… physical comfort, if needed, and any additional support, but you will be the one to tell him.”

“We should’ve brought Jayce, he’s good at hugging,” you paused, realizing how weird that sounded, “at least, according to Caitlyn.”

“I’m no expert, but with children, it is usually the thought that counts for this sort of thing.”

“Uh… it’s not a thought, it’s a hug?”

“It is a physical gesture to let them know that they are not alone. Just being there means a lot.”

“Right- not an expert, a philosopher,” you bit your lip, catching yourself in an automatic insult where one wasn’t warranted, “Sorry, that was rude. You’re probably right. Are you sure you want me to break it to him, though?”

He thought for a wonderfully quiet moment.

“Practice on me,” he said finally.

“What?”

“Practice what you’re going to say on me first,” he impatiently waved you up with his hand, “Go on, stand up, it’s cold out here.”

You grabbed the railing and lazily hauled yourself to your feet, almost falling back down when you made eye contact with him.

Angry eyes were fine – they bounced off of you like a fly to a window. But non-angry eyes you could only take in passing glances or shared looks. Those round ambers, relaxed in discernment, went straight to your soul and it felt like getting shot in the chest. Your eyes dropped to your feet.

“No, no, make eye contact,” he insisted.

You inhaled softly, lifting your head and feeling the shock in your arteries again. But you stayed, your spine straight, forcing yourself to look past the pupils and get lost in the lovely golden color.

“And don’t look so constipated,” he winged, “it’ll just make him feel worse.”

“Listen-“

“I- trust me,” he paused, perfectly candid, “please. I am not trying to make you uncomfortable here. Do you believe me?”

“…yes,” you squinted at him suspiciously.

“And do you know why you believe me?” he waited for you to shake your head, “Because I looked you in the eye.”

Damnit, that was good.

“Alright, alright, point taken,” you grounded yourself to the floor.

He permitted your gaze to drift upwards for a second as you mentally prepared your little speech to Alex. When you came back down, you were ready this time, trapping his irises in your sights. They shined like rusted coins in the foggy sunlight.

“Alex, we’ve gotten word from one of the people looking for information in Bilgewater about your family. We don’t know anything about your siblings, or your father, but they found out what happened to your mother. She’s in gang custody.”

Time blurred, and Viktor’s observant eyes were replaced with Alex’s, completely nonplussed.

“Uh… I don’t have a mom,” he said.

“What?” your composure, that you’d spent all that time preparing, dropped in an instant.

“I have a dad and a pop,” he explained, “no mom, though.”

You looked at Viktor, who just shrugged.

Alex’s room was small, but it was all his. A twin sized bed, a desk, a chair, a bookshelf, and a dresser were all cozily pushed against one of the walls, with just enough space to walk through and not feel squished. Viktor sat by his side on the bed, while you straddled the desk chair.

The safehouse was run by an old married couple – who also happened to be retired Enforcers – that had already gone through kids of their own, so they were uniquely prepared to meet a 10 year old’s needs. The cover story was that he was their grand nephew staying in Piltover over the winter, which you liked, because it meant that he could still enjoy a social life, even if it was highly supervised.

You weren’t his guardian, so it really was none of your business, but you made a point to inspect his living conditions early on and you were not disappointed.

Now, though, the smallness of the room was stifling. Like there was a much bigger world waiting just outside, and you didn’t have access to it. You were missing the bigger picture here, like you were characters in a play that someone else had written.

“Well, then- who the hell did Mel’s informants find?!”

Viktor had begun skimming through a piece of paper while you were busy being frustrated. You didn’t know what it said, but it looked like Mel’s elegant handwriting.

“Female, late 20s to early 30s, five and a half feet tall…” Viktor blinked, breaking his monotone to mouth the next phrase quietly, like he needed to confirm what he was reading, “left hand replaced with a hook.”

“Oh,” you tsked, “well, the hook is helpful, but that doesn’t narrow it down too much in Bilgewater of all places.”

“Alex,” Viktor set the notes in his lap for the moment and addressed the boy, “your sister had her left hand replaced with a hook, did she not?”

“My sister’s not a grownup.”

“But she did have her hand replaced?”

“Yeah… so what?”

“Just a theory I have – would you be able to provide me with a detailed description of your sister? As well as your other family members?”

“The Enforcers already did that,” he kicked his legs restlessly.

“Yes, but this is for my own purposes,”

You furrowed your brows at him. What fucking purposes? It was strange, certainly, but what piece of information did he think the Enforcers would’ve missed out on that was essential to his own investigation?

Either he didn’t even think to explain it to you or didn’t care to hear your opinion, because he calmly waited for Alex’s answer.

“I would be willing to, eh, grant a favor if you help me,” he offered when the kid didn’t say anything.

“Anything?” Alex drew the word out, sounding a little too excited.

“Within reason and provided that the Enforcers have no objections.”

Alex cartoonishly pretended to think it over, putting his hand to his chin and humming to himself.

“Help me do my house chores after I tell you,” he said curtly, “take it or leave it.”

“Sold,” Viktor answer, just as curtly.

You sighed and gave up on trying to figure out what the fuck just happened. You were familiar with the concept of exchange – in fact, it reminded you of how you made your living in Bilgewater – but it was odd to see Viktor in that position. He fit it well.

“You may leave, if you wish.”

Alex didn’t answer, and you turned to check on them. Oh, shit, Viktor was talking to you.

“Uh, you sure?”

“You can also stay if you are interested. But I can handle things by myself from here,” he hand a hand in his pocket, freezing with resignation when he didn’t find what he was looking for, “Could you hand me a pencil?”

“Sure, yeah… paper too?” your hands ghosted over the different coloring utensils and blank sheets of parchment. There were open books here or there that Alex seemed to be copying the drawings from, adding his own spins on them.

“Please.”

“And, uh, I think I will go,” you added as you retrieved the items, turning around to pass them to the bed, “I’ve got that thing to fix. I’ll let Jayce know.”

“I will likely not be back tonight, so one of you must dispose of the remaining formaldehyde.”

You nodded, accidentally making eye contact for what felt like the millionth time today when he took the pencil from your hands. It replaced whatever curiosity you had left with the restlessness in your legs that finally compelled you out of the room.

“See ya, Alex,” you said from the door.

Back in the street, the cold was a punishing reminder of how stupid you were for not bringing a jacket. Thankfully, your conscience was preoccupied with an even bigger act of idiocy – gods you had put up with all that shit from Viktor because you thought that it was to Alex’s benefit, only for it to mean nothing.

You weren’t sure if he would use it against you, but he had seen it, and there was nothing good to overshadow that. You felt like the victim of some cruel joke, getting tricked into everything that you swore you’d never become – first, a Piltover lapdog, and now, a little bitch. You had to stop letting up so easily.

They paid for your services, not your personhood, and you could not forget that. And yet, you were oddly grateful to Viktor for sparing you from, perhaps, a worse fate.

Hell, he didn’t even have to come with you in the first place, but he did. When you asked, he had no questions, issues, or complaints, he just said he’d need a minute to clean up his work and get his coat. He’d taken the extra time to show you how to do this without permanently traumatizing the kid, even though that wasn’t part of the arrangement. And now, he was staying to help do the dishes and letting you get off with nothing, even though coming here was your idea.

You probably owed him something for that.

*****

Yes, Jayce was getting to see many sides of you today.

First, he’d witnessed a mistake, something he’d forgotten you were capable of doing. Then, he’d seen you ask Viktor of all people for help, and apparently be persuasive enough for his partner to instantly agree. And now, you’d come back and he was getting to study you as you silently lost your mind over a pile of Viktor’s terrible handwriting.

You’d explained the situation to him as briefly as possible when you returned, and then promptly made a beeline for Viktor’s notes as though you’d completely forgotten about all the stuff that you needed to finish. Jayce wasn’t going to stop you. If anything, he was curious.

But, over the afternoon, your irritability had grown, only getting worse the more you tried to tamp it back down and focus. You were a whole orchestra of ticked off – sighing, clicking your tongue, scratching your scalp, stamping your foot – and as it finally neared the end of the day Jayce was pushed to ask the question he’d been simmering on since you started.

“Heimerdinger tells me you can’t read,” he said from the other table, making you flinch but getting you stop the slightly grating drumming of your fingers, “so I don’t know what you’re trying to find in there.”

You relaxed into the seat of the chair, giving your poor eyes a break and cracking your knuckles.

“Word travels fast, huh?” you stretched your neck.

“Here? Yeah.”

“I was… well, y’know, Viktor is stuck there, so I was looking through his stuff to see if I could,” your shoulders drooped, “help or something? I don’t think he likes to be behind. But, for the life of me, I cannot figure out where he left off.”

“What’ve you got so far? Maybe I can help,” he said good naturedly. And he meant it, even if you both had better things to do at the moment.

“Something about the aging and de-aging of Vitamin C in organic material. I dunno, chemistry has a lot of words, I was never great at it,” you pursed your lips, “but you don’t need to help, I’ve wasted enough time today.”

“Uh… what?” Jayce raised an eyebrow, stopping his own task – carefully layering different kinds of Demacian steel over the circuits surrounding the transistor.

Jayce was quite pleased that his early interest in forging was making a return in his career. He remembered leaning about Demacian steel back when he was a kid, reading under the covers at 2 am when he thought his mom was asleep. It was made through a special process, where the blacksmith would weld pre-existing steel and iron in a forge with little to no oxygen. As a result, the metal absorbed carbon from the hot charcoals that created crystalline-like nanotubes in structure, which gave it flexibility and sturdiness suitable for Demacia’s finest blades.

And, apparently, it was exactly what they needed to fortify the transistor’s design.

“Well, y’know, I already broke the test circuit this morning…” you crossed your arms, “…with an explosion.”

“Oh, that?” he chuckled lightly, “That’s been bugging you a bit, hasn’t it?”

“Well, no one likes not doing the thing they’re supposed to.”

“Of course, but,” Jayce set down his tweezers, “you know that we’re not like, pissed at you or anything.”

You blinked, as if you just remembered he was there.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sure you’ve got a bunch of ‘em,” you shrugged, “it’s just an inconvenience.”

“Actually, that’s the only one we have,” Jayce rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “so, we do still need to fix it. But, more importantly, Viktor and I make all kinds of mistakes while we’re doing this stuff, so, y’know, you’re allowed to do that too.”

“Oh,” your eyes shifted, “yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

“I mean, you’ve seen us screw up before. Big time,” the corners of his mouth twinkled fondly, “What, you think we’re that hypocritical about it?”

“No,” deliberation pulled at the end of the word, “I think I’m just getting used to the whole, like, ‘job’ thing.”

“I don’t believe that you’ve never had a job before.”

“Well, I sorta have. I did gig work, y’know, like, short term stuff. Where you get in, fix the thing, get paid, and then leave. Mistakes, uh, don’t go well there, because if you inconvenience your employer you might get paid less. Hell, I fyou mess up really bad you get your ass beat.”

“People would beat you up?” Jayce raised an eyebrow.

“Well, not me,” you put your hands to your chest, “because I didn’t make mistakes. But other people, yeah.”

“That’s… kinda brutal.”

“Yeah,” you admitted, “but I guess I understand why people were so defensive of their stuff. Because, like, if I didn’t fix the beer tap then the bartender can’t work, and then we both won’t be eating at night,” you paused, “not to say that there aren’t assholes who do it just because they can. But it depends.”

“Ah, well,” Jayce said genially, “mistakes are part of the process here. So, as long as that mistake isn’t fatal, you don’t need to worry about getting paid.”

“Every mistake used to be fatal,” you reflected, gruff but not malicious, “or, at least, that’s how it felt. Like you’re hanging on by a thread.”

“It’s good that you’re still here, then.”

He smiled kindly at you, but you just looked lost. Not scared, not worried, just lost, like you were trying to piece everything together and weren’t sure where to start. You stared straight through Jayce and into oblivion.

“I guess I am,” you said, “but I’m lucky.”

Your eyes dropped in a quiet memorial to those who weren’t. Jayce bent his head, trying to keep your focus from underneath your contemplation.

“We’re all lucky,” he said, “doesn’t mean that we don’t deserve to have good things happen sometimes.”

“I don’t think it’s really about deserve,” your pupils twitched back up, “cause, like, everyone deserves a decent living. But that hasn’t happened, so we’re not even close to deserve yet. It’s about…” you brushed your thumb over Viktor’s writing, “it’s about winning this stupid fucking rat race. Like, asking yourself how much you’re willing to lose for a shot at rising above what you were born with. And people like the kind in Bilgewater, who don’t have much to begin with – they aren’t exactly dying to stick their necks out.”

“Yeah,” Jayce found himself nodding somberly, “I mean, survival was never an issue for me, but I get it. Trying to build something for yourself is always a game of risk. And it shouldn’t be.”

You arched an eyebrow, filled with the same reticent curiosity that Viktor had when he stopped Jayce from ending his own life. As if you were asking: “Really? With all this privilege, you’re upset because you lost a game that you knew you shouldn’t have been playing?”

And he would answer that, if he can’t make things better with his privilege, then was it really worth anything in the first place?

Obviously, he couldn’t say any of that to you. No one knew about his almost-suicide except for Viktor, and he would like to keep it that way. It wasn’t his proudest moment, even if he could justify his sadness. His pride was wounded, his dream was shattered, and he was an emotional wreck. Any way that he tried to process it in his head would have his failure come out on the other end, screaming at him that he was a waste of all his “gifts.” Altruistic, smart, wealthier than most, and all he did with it was get kicked out of school for not being careful enough.

But now, he was living proof that he wasn’t a waste. And, even if he didn’t like that it happened that way, his mistake lead to the best decision in his life.

“That’s where I’m having trouble,” you said finally, resting your chin in your hands, “because staying here, well, it wasn’t risky. It was so easy, and I feel like I’ve gone around, like, the rules of life or something. It’s just a bitch to tall take in.”

A switch flipped in Jayce. He got up from his chair and slid into the one across from you, putting his hands on the table to demand your full attention.

“Pen,” he said earnestly, “the rules are fucking bullshit. And I say this as someone who has spent my whole life benefitting from them and screwing with them – nothing has to be this way.

“I know that,” you rolled your eyes with dubious coyness, “like, obviously getting your hand cut off because you were fishing in a part of the bay that pirates owned isn’t the state of nature. But, y’know, they don’t care, and when they catch you, you’ll still get your hand cut off.”

“Not in your case, though,” Jayce patiently withdrew his hand, speaking in short sentences to encourage your rambling.

“Exactly! Like, whether I stayed or I left, I would still get to keep my hand, so to speak. Any consequences were personal preference but none of them were really bad. It was just… a choice. And I feel like this entire time I’ve been waiting for someone to cut that hand off.”

“I mean… that was kinda the point. We wanted to make it easy.”

“Yeah,” you snorted grimly, “and, I do appreciate that, even if I still don’t entirely understand it.”

“I mean, we had the resources to do, so we did,” he shrugged, “and you’re proof of concept for our whole ‘making lives easier’ thing.”

“Seems like you made Viktor’s life harder,” you grinned dryly.

Jayce bit his cheek. Of course you didn’t know what Viktor had said, you weren’t there, he told himself, but still he was caught off guard. He’d have to correct you.

“He was your biggest advocate, actually,” Jayce said.

“Uh…” your chuckled awkwardly, “are you sure about that?”

“Not that I didn’t also want you to hang around,” Jayce added, “but I was ready to let you leave when you made it clear that you wanted to. But Viktor, he was determined. He took care of most of it – the stipend, the Enforcers, hell, he even spoke to Heimerdinger about it.”

“I- wow,” you faltered, thoughtfully picking on your thumb’s cuticle, “I didn’t know that.”

“You left quite the impression.”

“Yeah,” you tilted your head to the side, looking out the window, “I guess I did.”

The darkness outside came alive with the moonlight, dropping gentle hues of blue across your face. The wind viciously rapped against the glass, but the brass handle never even shuddered. Jayce felt safe, in a way, like he could wait out the entire winter in here as you sorted through your thoughts.

You were on the verge of some big revelation, he could feel it. Barely breathing but mind racing as you tried to convert everything you’d learned today into something practical. Jayce was excited for it, even – you could realize the importance of their mission, you could see how much you could do if you really put your mind to it.

A warning tap of your fingers queued him back in as your mouth parted.

“What were we talking about again?” you quirked one side of your mouth goofily. Perhaps not today, Jayce thought.

“Ah, y’know what, I don’t really remember either,” Jayce sighed, trying to play off his disappointment, “I think it’s time to call it a day.”

He’d long since broken from the trance of his work and the exhaustion was starting to hit him.

“I’ll be here a little longer,” you said, standing up and wiping your hands on your pants, “Viktor asked me to clean up the formaldehyde if he didn’t come back.”

Jayce considered helping you, but you were deadest on doing something to make up the time that Viktor had lost. If this was that moment, then it could be all yours.

“Right,” he stood, grabbing his coat, “don’t forget to lock it when you leave.”

“I won’t,” you said over your shoulder as you organized the notes near the edge of the table.

Jayce rolled his shoulders through the sleeves of the coat and opened the door, taking one last look at you milling about the lab, completely unbothered. He felt like he was missing something.

“Good night, Penny.”

You didn’t look at him.

“Good night, Jayce.”

*****

It was colder by the time Viktor left Alex’s house, but somehow, with the heat lamps warmly leading the way back to town, the street actually had some life in it.

Viktor didn’t know what to expect anymore. He thought that he had some grasp on his own work, but every turn just gave him more questions and told him that his previous answers were wrong to start with. He wasn’t a detective, he was a scientist, and while he thought that those two professions weren’t that different once, he was beginning to reconsider.

Either this kid was miraculously connected to everything, or this conspiracy was bigger than anyone realized.

If that woman actually was Alex’s sister, the implications were disastrous on every level. Whether or not the pirates did it on purpose, they were aware of what they had done. Then, it would only be a matter of time until they figured out how to control the portal’s biology-altering effects, if they hadn’t already.

And what if they had? What did that mean for everyone else involved? Were Alex’s family also hidden in plain sight, and Mel’s informants were simply unable to identify them? Or, even worse, they’d already died but were so beyond recognition that no one thought to mention it.

What about Myrna? Alex claimed that he’d seen her associating with the gang before – had something awful happened to her? So awful that Iron Leg was compelled to attack the moment that he caught wind of it? And why was his first move to attack Piltover, of all places?

Footsteps began to ripple on the pavement as he returned to the more populated parts of town. People were still sparse, but the occasional shop owner leaving for the day or family being shown out the door after dinner would pass by.

So, Viktor concluded, he could not go insane at this very moment. Bad for publicity.

He craned his neck to see over the tops of the buildings, finding the window of Heimerdinger’s office – the highest window the Academy had – lording over the city like an eye. Heimerdinger would be losing his mind if he knew what Viktor was uncovering.

Viktor looked a few stories lower, landing on the floor that the lab was. You and Jayce had, no doubt, gone home for the evening, but even then, you’d spent the entire afternoon without him. You’d be the best of pals by now.

Viktor exhaled, shoving his free hand in his pocket.

He was being overdramatic. He knew that Jayce wasn’t that type of person, and he knew that if you wanted to spite him, then you would be more direct about it. But that made it all worse, because, once again and without even trying, you were exceeding him in what was supposed to be his thing.

He kept telling himself that it would be okay – you weren’t competitors. But the resentful nausea quelling in his stomach didn’t believe him. Maybe you had been trying, he thought. Why else would you beg him to come see Alex with you only to leave the minute that you got the chance? You clearly didn’t like being around him, with how nervous you got. Did you know that he would agree to stay?

And he’d fallen for it so readily, because he couldn’t bring himself to refuse something so… honest. If you needed him so badly that you overcame your own ego to ask him, then it must’ve been important. At least, that’s what he thought.

You were so confounding, but his recent state of mind was starting to make him wonder if he was the crazier one here. At what point did his speculations about you become his fault?

“Oh!” a kind voice collided with his shoulder, knocking him off balance as he breathed in sharply.

An older woman, with white hair in a neat low bun and sea green eyes. A thick black overcoat draped over her blue lapel dress.

“Apologies, dear! My eyes aren’t quite what they used to be,” she smiled.

“Quite alright,” Viktor forced a forgiving smile of his own, “I was distracted, myself.”

“Well, then, I hope we both make it home without another incident.”

She carried on forward, falling into a content hum. Viktor watched her go over his shoulder, and he could’ve sworn that he’d heard you humming that same song earlier this morning. Small world.

Damnit, he was thinking about you again.

He shook his head testily and continued on his way. Enough about you, he thought, he was going to put at least one thought to rest tonight, and maybe, finally, get something done here. He had to find his notes again, and maybe revisit one of his plants.

He had to go back to the lab.

*****

You were not mentally well.

You weren’t too proud to admit that to yourself. But, alone in the lab, no patrol officers stalking the halls and no Jayce to make you think twice, it didn’t matter anymore. You could let loose, and no one would see it. You could yourself to fucking snap. You realized now that this had been a long time coming.

It started after Jayce had left, when you picked up a cup of cleaning fluid so violently that you crushed it between your fingers. It gushed over the sides and creeped down your knuckles, ponderous as a waterfall, over the open cuts and scrapes that you always had. It burned, but you didn’t move, didn’t stop it, just let the pain sear through you nerve endings. Finally, a feeling that you could fucking process.

Because you couldn’t process everything else, gods, you really couldn’t.

You should’ve figured it out when you’d fucked up the cannon, you thought, as you dumbly through the cup in the trash, missing it by a few feet. You moved like you were drunk. Your limbs weren’t your own anymore, your own fucking life wasn’t even your own anymore. It didn’t belong to anyone else, but it certainly didn’t belong to you either, you thought as you slapped the cleaning fluid off your hand with a paper towel.

Breathing got harder, but you didn’t care. You liked it, almost, because it meant that you were doing something.

Or maybe you should’ve realized it when you met Alex, you continued as you half sat half fell on the floor. You’d ruined his entire fucking life and you weren’t even trying to. Before you’d even agreed to stay, your normal survival, the thing that you had always lived on, were fucking over other people. It was all your fault, because this was where you were now and you couldn’t deal with that shit.

The wind was too fucking loud, it sounded like one of the gods themselves was whistling in your ear as they watched you shrivel up and die.

That woman this morning, gods, you’d lost her, if she was even fucking real. You didn’t even know why you wanted to find her so bad, maybe you just wanted a single fucking scrap of what you’d left behind, but she vanished. Maybe you wanted the reassurance of knowing that you and Alex were not the only pieces of Bilgewater in Piltover, so that way, if he fucking died because of you and then you finally lost your mind, you could find solace in someone else.

You were restless and weak at the same time. You wanted to throw something, so you unsheathed your knife and gracelessly chucked it across the room so hard that something in the hilt broke. Then, you held your own arms so hard that your nails dug into your skin and the tips of your fingers were warm with blood.

Oh, and Viktor. Viktor Viktor Viktor. Advocating for you? Was he fucking insane? Wasn’t he supposed to know what this kind of thing was like? Did it even fucking matter what you said to him when he was just going to advocate for you in the end? Did your hatred mean anything?

You made a mistake today.

You made a mistake and there were no personal consequences, because personal consequences didn’t fucking exist anymore. You were on a new level, a big player who made big decisions, and yet it felt like you’d fucking lost everything.

Your mistake postponed the fate of those Ionians. Decided whether they would stay or leave. Whether they would live or die. Did they even want to come here? Did you want to send them here? What if they ended up like you? Washed away by the fucking weight of everything, separated from all that they knew, getting to decide whether they would stay and defend their country or leave it behind? Would it even be saving lives if they ended up like you? Because you were fucking dying here.

You smelled the formaldehyde that you hadn’t cleaned up yet. Formaldehyde. Corrosive to carbon steel in liquid form. Corrosive to Demacian steel.

You were going to end it. You moved like a robot, shaking the bottle of formaldehyde and standing above the half-finished circuit. It would melt the steel, fuck the wires, and seep into all the cracks that it wouldn’t. You didn’t know how you would justify it. You didn’t care. You didn’t want to think about it anymore, didn’t want to fucking choose for other people when you couldn’t keep your own head above water.

You wanted it to fucking die. Maybe then you could breathe again.

“Wha- you’re still- what the hell are you doing?” a Czech voice said in the doorway.

You turned. Viktor.

Fuck.

~ End Notes ~

i'm not sorry for the cliffhanger die mad abt it

End credits song (don't worry it is NOT as depressing as it sounds i promise): "I Think I'm Going To Kill Myself" by Elton John

(btw I'm thinking about throwing together a playlist with all of the songs i'm putting here and maybe others??? keep an eye out)

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor arcane #viktor #viktor x you #enemies to lovers #slow burn #viktor x y/n #arcane x reader #jayce talis #mel medarda #mel #caitlyn #jayce #waves on the shore #caitlyn kiramann #Spotify

80 notes · View notes

diavolosthots · 4 years ago

Note

Hey dear! I hope that you have a good time! I want to make a request, but please delete it if you don't feel like doing it.

I saved that request in the notes and been waiting for you to open them 😊

For request

First fight with brother (any of your choice) and one of them (I mean MC or that brother) thinks that it's end of relationship (because never had anything serious), but they reconciled in the end. I want some heavy angst with happy ending. MC can be GN if that is OK.

If you don't mind you can do for Mammon, but feel free to choose another one if you don't feel like write for him. Or if that would be better to write as headcanons for all the brothers. That's up to you!

I haven't been doing requests for ages. Please don't hate me if there is something wrong! I've read the rules, and I hope I haven't missed anything.

Anyway, sorry for long ask. And thank you for your writings!

(I forgot to look if you did anything similar, and remembered it at the end of writing that ask. Sorry if you already did something like that!)

Hey babes ❤ I did end up doing HCs for all of them because I thought it would be cooler (or more like I know someone is gonna request separate fics for all of them if I dont and I'm saving myself that trouble lol) I still hope you like it ! ❤ also this got SUPER LONG so its under a cut

Warning: angst -> happy ending-ish

THE BROTHERS in a fight with MC and thinking that they’re over (yikes)

Lucifer:

Everyone always says Lucifer is quick to lose his cool but he’s honestly been nothing but patient with you. He may have hinted at several things he doesn’t condone and he definitely has that ‘look’, you know the disappointed dad look, but he has held back a lot so as to not ruin the beautiful relationship you have with him. Everyone snaps, though, and when he finally did, it was ugly. He did NOT call you names, but oh he didn’t. He went straight for your feelings and pointed out every mistake you ever made for as long as he’s known you. Ouch. In his defense, you weren’t nice either. The argument ended nasty and ‘I hate you’s!’ were definitely thrown around, but none of them were meant, right? Goodness, he doesn’t know. After you left, he threw himself on his bed, literally, and just stared at the ceiling. His anger slowly fled away and he began to feel… guilty. Not necessarily because of the argument itself, but because he delivered some low blows and he knows that. Are you over? Done with him? You haven’t texted or called or talked… you’ve been actively avoiding him and he doesn’t like that, but his pride is such an issue, goodness. He can’t straight up apologize, that dickhead, but he’s sending you flowers and standing in front of your door with a sad face that says it all.

“Forgive me? I made reservations at your favorite’s? We can talk over a nice dinner?”

Mammon:

Mammon is known to get mildly agitated over the silliest things, let’s be real. He’s also quick to revert to the “are you dumb?!” argument, which is never effective. But he loves you and he would do anything for you so even if you do do something that he deems ‘dumb’, he usually bites his tongue. Doesn’t mean that doesn’t get on his nerves, though, and he definitely has a short temper, although people tend to overlook that. You just managed to push his buttons today and he used the “are ya stupid?!” argument, to which you obviously defended yourself, and rightfully so. This ended in a massive screaming match and him saying “Then leave! Ain’t nobody keepin’ ya with me!” He regretted it the minute those words left his mouth and you could see his eyes grow wide in shock at his own words, but that didn’t mean you stayed. “MC!” he tried running after you immediately but you were faster and honestly, who can blame you? He fucked up, and he knows it, and he feels terrible about it. Honestly, he’s crying just at the mere thought of you taking his words seriously and he can’t… he can’t bear to lose you, you know? What’s he gonna do? You’re the light of his life, as pathetic as that may sound to some…. So he won’t let you run away. Homie will hunt you down and beg for forgiveness.

“Please, MC! Forgive me! I’m dumb, not you!!! Don’t leave me…” Don’t leave him. He will continue crying.

Leviathan:

His constant need to put himself down is frankly, quite annoying. To you anyway. But you put up with it and just reassure him that, at least to you, he’s the most amazing demon that ever existed. It’s just facts. But a person only has so much patience, right? You can’t always spend your days trying to lift him up when all he does is dig himself a bigger hole. Who has the emotional time for that? You sure don’t. “Oh my God, Levi! Shut up! I can’t take it anymore!” Followed by “See! You’re just like everyone else! Leaving me!” and then you slamming the door to his room shut. It’s frustrating and understandably so. It makes you feel awful that you can’t even make your own boyfriend feel good about himself and get at least a little bit of self confidence and it’s so, so, so very draining to have to constantly listen to that. At this point, it’s affecting your own mental health and you just… you just can’t…. But Levi can’t lose you because he knows you’re right. He has to work on himself if he wants to keep someone as amazing as you with him and that’s why he’s crawling back to you now.

“Look I… I know you’re right… I’m sorry. I promise I’ll … I’ll try. For you.”

Satan:

For being the Avatar of Wrath, you always admired Satan for his ability to keep cool. He prefers the relaxed and easy going life much more than the type of life people expect him to live, and you respect that. That doesn’t mean his constant need to one up Lucifer, through whatever means necessary, didn’t bother the hell out of you, though. You tried talking to him about it once or twice in a calm manner, but you always got the same answer “Pfft.. it’s Lucifer. Who cares?” And it never sat right with you. Just today he decided to pull a prank on the eldest and you had enough, standing in front of Lucifer and letting the bucket of cursed green slime land on you instead, to everyone’s shock. “What are you doing?!” Now that you’re thoroughly green from head to toe, you were also beyond pissed. “What am I doing?! What are YOU doing?!” But Satan matched your anger tenfold, accusing you of favoring Lucifer over him and oh! “You probably got an affair with him, too!” Which was a stupid thing on his part, but it looked like it the way you defended him. Anger doesn’t even begin to describe the emotion you felt running through you and had it not been for Lucifer, you probably would’ve physically fought Satan for such a dumb accusation. Lucifer took you to get cleaned up and lifted the course, giving you your natural skin and hair color back within a few days and plenty of scrubbing, and Satan felt like shit. You’ve always been there for him and, rationally speaking, he didn’t have a reason to doubt your loyalty to him, but he just can’t help but feel insecure beside Lucifer…. He decides to come apologize anyway, a deep blush on his face and guilt in his eyes

“I’m… sorry for accusing you. It wasn’t my right to speak out of anger and jealousy…”

Asmodeus:

How can anyone fight with the Avatar of Lust? Seriously, the guy is super easy going and he loves pretty much everyone. Not as much as himself, but almost. You on the other hand… you didn’t. Well you didn’t NOT love him or yourself, but you were just… you. You didn’t spend 4+ hours in the bathroom trying to get ready when you knew you were only going to the kitchen down the stairs. Like?? Although you never brought it up to Asmodeus, he constantly bothered you about skincare and what foods to eat and what not to eat, etc… It’s quite annoying, honestly, and at some point you just gave him a passive aggressive “Okay, whatever. Can we move on now?” To which he didn’t take lightly. He was still nice and sweet, trying to convince you that at least one of these things will make your skin glow brighter than a unicorn’s ass but you just had enough. “Can you stop?! You’re indirectly saying I’m ugly without that shit ton of product in my face and a diet that would make me starve before it helped me! If you want a skinny VS angel that barely holds onto their skeleton, get one!” It was more hurt and frustration speaking than anything, but your outburst still shocked him and he was taken aback for a moment. And then you ignored him for a week straight and as someone who thrives off of attention, especially the kind he gets from you, he can’t handle that! So he showed up in your room in sweats and a tshirt and messy hair and no product on his skin.

“You’re right… we’re all naturally beautiful…. Wow that… that really hurts to say MC but can you forgive me?”

Beelzebub:

Oh the sweet, sweet angel. He’s far from innocent and you know that. We all know that. But for this story, I will give him the benefit of the doubt. His reliance on Belphegor is just really… annoying. Belphegor this, Belphegor that. “Belphie used to…” or “Belphie said….” or “one day when Belphie and I….” Like why does everything have to include his twin? It’s so annoying and so rude when your significant other is right here !!! and planning their own future with you, Beel, thanks. It makes you feel less than and like Belphegor will always come before you. It makes you feel like shit, quite frankly, and who is to blame you? “Hey MC did I tell you what Belphie---!” “No! Shut up! I don’t care! It’s always about Belphie! The day you come to me and don’t let that name drip from your tongue is the day Jesus comes back to save me and we both know that will be never! I’m tired of always being stuck with Belphegor! We are not equals!” Granted, you shouldn’t have yelled and Beel was more than confused at your outburst, but you wouldn’t talk to him anymore after that so he left you alone. He thought you may need an hour or two, maybe a day tops, but that day turned into a full week and he even lost his appetite just because he knows you’re angry with him. It’s been a week, does that mean you’re over? His heart aches just at the thought…

“I’m sorry for bringing Belphie up… I don’t want you to feel less than, MC. You mean a lot to me and so does Belphie, but you’re not Belphie and I need to learn that…”

Belphegor:

Honestly it’s a miracle he hasn’t lost his temper at you yet. Well, he partially blames it on his own laziness because if being angry or getting upset didn’t take so much energy out of him, maybe he would’ve snapped by now lol, but he tries really hard not to because he thinks your relationship with him after everything is pretty good, considering yall kiss and snuggle and fuck on a regular basis. But anyway, that’s exactly the issue. Considering everything, you’re still holding *that* against him. It’s never direct either, which makes it worse. It’s always said in a joking manner and something like “haha look it’s just like that one time you killed me” or “Beel’s grabbing that ham like you grabbed my throat” or “I remember seeing jesus for a moment there” and it agitates him. It makes him so angry, and he finally snapped. “I know I fucked up MC! Stop holding it against me! What do you want? A medal of honor? A survivor's certificate? Maybe a pat on the back for developing some sort of Stockholm syndrome that made you come back to your abuser?!” And then he left. And you may have cried both from confusion and your own anger, he isn’t quite sure. It’s just so…. Aggravating. He can’t deal with it. He knows it was a mistake spurted by his own insecurities and survivor’s guilt which ultimately led to his hatred but please, stop holding it against him.. He can’t keep putting up with it from the person he’s grown to love. He’s the one ignoring you and he won’t budge either because he’s a stubborn ass, but maybe if you come up first…

“I’m sorry for yelling at you… I’m just so tired for it being held against me… I love you, and you should know that, and I do feel guilty about what happened.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #cheys headcanons #asmodeus obey me #belphegor obey me #mammon obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #tw angst

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lux-life-style · 3 years ago

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Hey I enjoy reading your post. I am in that finding myself phase, although I’m “doing well” I still lack confidence. I always feel I’m not good enough even after achieving something major. I won’t to grow out of that, do you have any tips???

Hey there Ashley, thank you so much for your question 👑

Confidence is a tricky thing for most people. We have deeply rooted insecurities and working on those takes time, consistency and patience.

You said that even after achieving something major you still don't feel good enough, my advice is don't use achievements to define your self worth. Achieving something big can of course add to your confidence, but it should never be the source.

The source for me is self love. And loving myself is difficult, it's a journey as many people like to say. Again it takes time. It starts small and it'll grow the longer you work on it.

I'll give you an example, I'm a curvy woman. When I was younger I hated that, I wanted to be a skinny supermodel. I had eating disorders and to this day I struggle with that sometimes. But I've come to accept my body, I've started to learn about my body, what things I can wear that'll make me look good, what excersise will help me tone my body, what diet works best for me etc. I've come to love my body, but it took time. It's been six years now and I still struggle sometimes. But everyday is a day to work on yourself, to love yourself a little more.

Another important part is your mindset. If you think you'll never be good enough or confident enough it'll stop you from actually feeling the way you like. Affirmations are a good way to reprogram your brain. Depending on your insecurities you'll need to find a way to adjust your mindset. Whenever I feel like I'm letting myself down and I'm not in the right mindset I'll put on a nice outfit and heels and remind myself that I'm a badass bitch who has the confidence she wants and can achieve anything. It might sound a bit silly but it works for me.

Lastly, you need to start believing in yourself. Finding yourself and your confidence is a journey, there are ups and downs. You'll learn along the way what works for you and what doesn't.

Identify your insecurities, write them down, think about ways to work on them. It'll be difficult at first, but it's worth it.

I hope that could help a little bit. ❤️

Lots of love 👑

#goddess #lifestyle #luxurious #aesthetic #transformation #confidence #Journey #Self love

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mehphoobia · 4 years ago

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You are beautiful

pairing - Tom Holland (actor) x Reader (college girl)

summary - Y/n is visiting her parents for the first time to Rio, whom she doesn’t know properly because they left her with her aunt when she was young. She is insecure about meeting her parents but she finds comfort in a stranger.

MASTERLIST

word count- 2.9k or around 3k

warnings - mentions of insecurity and self doubt, no swearing(cause its like my first post so gotta stay ‘pure’)

“Get up Y/N and Claudia…its 8 am already. We are going to be late.” a faint alarm could be heard from the kitchen, two rooms away from your room.

_______________________________________________________________

Your parents had been looking forward this vacation for months. With your father working in Rio for the past 7 years and your mother being a full time nurse at a nearby hospital in Rio where your parents lived, you never got a chance to feel how it felt to be with your parents. So naturally with no one to your care, you grew up with your Aunt Cass and your cousin Claudia, around whom your entire world revolved for the past 20 years.

________________________________________________________________

Grumpy, filled with laziness up to the brim Claudia dragged herself to your bed and tortured you to get up. “Just two more minutes. I swear”, you begged as if she was listening. Then came the final blow with a splash of water on your face and then well….its self-explanatory. You both got up, finished through the verbal fight which left Aunt Cass chuckling in the kitchen.

“Aren’t you a tad bit excited to go to Rio, it’s been years since your parents last spent time with you.” Asked Claudia looking at you expression-less face in the mirror while brushing your teeth. “I don’t know Cloud, it’s just that I don’t know how I should feel about it. I am nervous and scared and tired just thinking about how awkward it can get.”

________________________________________________________________

Your parents had last seen you on your 16th birthday, when they showed up at your house. The 16th year where you are neither an adult nor a child, of all those years they could have shown up, it was that year. Your mother had gifted you a manicure set and your father had bought you a hair kit and you absolutely had no idea what to do with it. Little did they know that you were more interested in trekking and photography rather than painting your nails and dyeing your hair? Where other girls chose tight fitting dresses and expensive heels you chose the comfort of sweatshirts: pajamas or jeans and sneakers.

_______________________________________________________________

“You will be fine, it’s YOU after all. If I can tolerate you enough to share my room with you then trust me, anyone can put up with you” said Claudia boasting her patience and handing a comb from her dresser. “Why don’t you curse or compliment me one at a time” you snapped annoyingly. But you were grateful for supportive arms around you which calmed you down.

After getting ready, you greeted Aunt Cass with a smile on your face and a stretched good morning as you helped yourself with some toast and orange juice. “Eat well, it’s a long flight after all” said Aunt Cass followed by a “Yes ma’am.”

“Keep your phone charged at all times. Keep calling me after every two hours and did you pack enough clothes to last you a month. I don’t want to hear your mother complaining later about it. Should I pack some extra snacks for you, you will surely not take care for meals and if you skip any your meals throughout the day, I swear you have had it then.” It never ceased to amaze you how multitasking Aunt Cass could be. She is strict, tough and a woman of her words. There was not a single day when you and Claudia had not done your college assignments or homework with Aunt Cass being at home. But at the same time she would sit with you past midnight when both of you cousins stayed awake for you midterms. Maybe that’s why you never missed your parents because you never had a void in your life, Claudia and Aunt Cass had filled it lovingly.

That being said, before you knew it all three of you were in the car and already off for the airport. The entire ride was filled with constant chattering as to how famous and beautiful Rio is and as how will not be able to walk down a street without bumping into a celebrity. However you were lost in your thoughts about living with your parents for a month, about whom you knew nothing and neither did they about you.

After reaching the Leipzig Airport, you waved them goodbye, leaving the loving and proud embrace of Aunt Cass and a cute envious look on Claudia’s face you were all set for Rio.

During the flight:

It was a 15hr flight, with the overthinking and hyperactive person you were there was no possible way you could have had a simple excited flight journey, but there is no harm in wishing one for right? Or so you thought.

When you were boarding the plane you noticed an unusual number of bodyguards outside, literally engulfing the poor person standing in middle. What annoyed you the most was the people who were cheering, because at some point of time it wasn’t cheering anymore, it was a mob attack. After boarding, what greeted you were the over excited air-hostesses which was obviously because ‘the person’ as you painfully learnt through the mob attack. But all you could care at that moment was your seat being a window seat or not, and luckily it was. After putting your hand luggage in the upper compartment (you had three suitcases and one hand luggage) you finally asked a fellow passenger dressed in black hoodie with a mask on his face and skinny jeans as to what exactly was the commotion about and to brief you about the situation. The answer surprised you- it was none other than Tom Holland.

Your mouth was literally in the O shape and eyes wide open. It was the Tom Holland. It was your favorite actor travelling in the same flight with you. That explained the mob attack. The only person that came to you upper floor was your Claudia.

Y/N: TOM HOLLAND is in the flight right now!!!!!! Tom freaking Holland.

Claudia: wwwwhhhhaaatttt!!!???????, damn I knew I should have gone with you. How could you do this to me? Why?

Y/N: I am sorry ok I didn’t know or wait maybe I did. His visit to Leipzig was mentioned in his itinary on his twitter account how could we miss that? We just got lucky man and also I was squashed in the mob attack at the airport.

Claudia: Oh! You mean you got lucky dipshit!? Please tell me you got a picture!

Y/N: no I couldn’t, I hardly knew about him being on the plane I asked someone and I have been freaking out since.

*announcement for switching off electrical devices.*

Y/N: I have to switch off my phone for a while, the flight’s gonna take off.

Claudia: okay, I knew I should have come with you. Ahhhhhhh!!!!!!text me soon..love you

Y/N: yeah you should have, I miss you. Love you too.

“Are you a fan too?” asked your neighbor. You look at him with suspicious eyes was he eying your texts? Because if he was, that’s not healthy and it creeped you out. Even though, “well yes, me and my sister.” You said and hoped the conversation will die out there. He took the answer and you could imagine a small smirk curling upon his face by the wrinkling of his eyes which was adorable. By his physique and posture he looked no older than early twenties. “What about you, are you fan?” you asked, unknowingly and regretted it immediately. “He doesn’t bugger me, so you could say so. How long have you been a fan?” ,“My aunt happened to be watching ‘The Impossible’, when we were younger and we have been crazy about him since. My sister liked him like crazy as to how cute he was but I liked his acting in the movie but ended up liking him too.”

“Very interesting..” something about him was attracting you, maybe his aura, the charming vibes, you didn’t know, but you were just attracted. But something pinned you, his accent, he had a British accent. Unknowingly, when your eyes met, your heart skipped a beat. It’s him. He was sitting right here. He realized your surprised expression and said, ”You can take a picture now” he chuckled and looking directly at you. Your brain on the other hand was still processing the vital information and the very awesome physique with veiny and beautiful hands and captivating eyes. How could you miss his eyes, those beautiful passion filled dark brown eyes.

“uh..um..h hi, I mean hello nice to meet you, I am Y/N”, ”Tom Holland” he said extending a hand not taking his eyes off of you. It amazed you really, how could he despite being an actor maintain such a down to earth personality. The way he talks, listens to you, waits for your reply and him being in the economy class instead of comfortably sitting in the first class seating arrangements. Wait!?Why was he here?. As if he read your mind and a sudden change in your expression from being flustered to confused. “Too many people, I needed to get out of there and breathe by myself for once. No cameras, no media, no stylists….jus… just plain old me. By the way, my manager is my imposter”, he said with a smirk on his face.

“Oh sure, I can understand that, it can get tiring sometimes. The attention being forced on you that you were never used to it. My parents too, in that way, been out of my life since the very year I turned 1 and suddenly they want meet me and want me to stay with them for a month in Rio. I didn’t want to but my aunt convinced me and I couldn’t say no to her. ”, ”You stayed with your aunt your entire life? Didn’t you miss your parents?” his passionate eyes suddenly changed into concern and pity, “yeah, but she means a lot to me, she was there for all my dance ceremonies, each and every one of my birthday’s , my graduation, she means the world to me so does my sister, she is like my pillar, my support , an annoying one at that.” You said smiling on you lap, and you could feel his gaze softening upon yours. ”my parents, uhh…you can never miss something you never had.” You looked at him again, but this time you could feel and see his gaze on you, watching you and never leaving your eyes.

Both you were so lost in each other that you didn’t realize when the flight had taken off and the snacks table breaking your moment. “Oh it’s been so long already since the plane took off, I didn’t realize we even missed the safety instructions”, you both chuckled at that. “Oh man!, you are really beautiful, really” he said running his hand down his locks and realizing that his tone was a bit too loud, and he meant to keep the compliment to himself. “Sorry?” you asked, despite you pretty much heard it when he said it, you wanted to hear it again.

“uhh..i m..mean your teeth are beautiful.” He realized what he said and his expression was like ‘did I really just say that?’. “I mean your smile is beautiful, Not your teeth..oh wait..I mean your teeth are beautiful too but your smi…” you couldn’t hold you laugh anymore looking at him and his cute ‘war’ with himself. “Thank you, I guess, a lot of people say that about me after I got my braces removed.”

“Oh you had braces? Since when?” “around when I was 15, like every girl wanted to look pretty and wanted boys around her ,so me and my sister had braces for the sake of it, not that I cared about me getting a boyfriend, just for fun”. He seemed to have got stuck on one word, “so you got one?”…”got what?” , “a boyfriend I mean?”. His expression changed and yet again you could feel blood rushing to your cheeks, “I always wanted a crazy guy, who could have something similar to my interests, ‘cause I am not like every other girl in the town, I am into trekking and photography and outdoor activities, not just a girl who likes shopping and who always has to be around people so, my specifications are a bit particular, so I have never had a boyfriend.”

“So, no boyfriend, right?” he asked as if that being the only part he was interested in, or who knows may be he actually was.

After a few hours, you realized you had a lot of things in common and the internet was all wrong about his interests and all. It was like meeting a complete different person, a person whom you have known for the longest time as if you have always been together. You were attracted to him and so was he to you, and you could tell that.

“So what are you doing in Germany? Did you have a shoot here?” you didn’t mind asking because he already had mentioned a lot of stuff that he was not supposed to and also his eyes lit up when he was excited to tell you about some stuff anything at all. “uh..yeah we had to film a segment in Berlin and then we decided to take a break, so I around different places and now we are heading towards the Carnival.” “oh Carnival huh? My aunt says its pretty lively. That was like the main reason why I agreed to go Rio. ”

“so don’t mind me asking, but are you going to be awkward around your parents? Like I know you are not very close to them..” he asked you sincerely concerned with his hands slightly brushing off of yours on the handle of the seat. It’s like he wanted to hold your hand because he knew the weight of his question but he felt like you would disintegerate if he did so. You could feel the same pit around your stomach filled with nervousness that you had forgotten about a for couple hours. “I don’t know, it’s complicated, I don’t know anything about them and also they might have certain expectations about me and what do I do if I do not live up to it. I know we haven’t had a very comfortable story build around us but somehow I don’t wanna disappoint them from my side because they don’t know anything about me like the birthday incident I mentioned about. But I simply don’t want to disappoint because I don’t want my mother, who was never there for me, to question my aunt, who has always been there for me” It’s like you pour the entire timeline of your life in front of Tom and you were scared if he would drift away. “I understand Y/N, but your parents were the ones who planned this trip right?” “yeah they were the ones.” “so that’s it, you know when I have too much on my plate, my manager asks me to take a break and let everything go for sometime. All my meetings and appointments are cancelled because I will ruin them anyway, so there is no point of it. Your situation is kind of similar too, you have had a lot in your life with you parents not being there and now you simply just have to take a break and forget everything for a while because that’s what your aunt wants to you to do.” His hand finally rested upon yours and none of you flinched. It’s as if it’s meant to be.

That being said, you have already arrived in Rio and a beautiful ocean greeted you with open arms and you accepted it with a fresh mind. Tom’s hand still resting over yours and his fingers brushing the upper part of your hand and you look at each other embracing each other’s warmth with your eyes. That’s when you realized that you have fallen for him, not Tom Holland but just him, just Tom.

After the plane landed he was still holding on to you, scared to let go. He was scared to let you go because he cared about you and some fact had gotten him attracted towards you and he was scared to show you his vulnerable side. On the other hand you were scared to let go because you might never see him again. As if he sensed it again, what you were thinking, “I will see you again for sure. Don’t worry.” With a tight squeeze on his hand you let go and say “thank you, I will wait for you.”

“me too.”

You didn’t see him again after departing the flight, he would steal glances out of every opportunity to see you ,lost between the flashes of cameras and cheering, till the last second. The last time you saw him was to murmur something to his manager pointing towards you and that was it, the escalator distanced him from you. But you would still wait..

Outside the gate you could see your parents waiting for you, with Tom’s words in your mind you greeted them with a smile and everything seemed normal, as if they were always with you.

Two weeks later, still no message from Tom.

Claudia bombarded you with messages, when you told her about the entire duration of the flight. You were kind of annoyed with messages cause they were literally somewhere is hundreds. So you decided to ignore her for sometime.

*Ting* some part of you wanted to check that message but the other part of you wanted to go eat pizza because you were really tired from messaging and explaining everything to Claudia over texts. But then you were like *screw it* and you checked the message and…

*unknown number*: I said you were really beautiful Y/N….

A/n- uh..first of all thank you for reading this, cause it like my first post and my first fanfiction so i was a bit skeptical about posting this but fuck it, here it is guys it took me around four hours to complete this and its worth it.

also if you wanna be tagged in this just let me know!!! *uwu face*

lemme know if you want a part 2 of this, because I will gladly include it with improvement of course, love you ppl...

#tomholland #tom holland #tomholland fanfiction #tomhollandxreader #tom holland x reader #actor!tomholland #actorxreader #tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff #tomhollandfluff #tomxreader #actor tom holland #actortom #marvel

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sunflowerheartsandstarryskies · 4 years ago

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The Devil and the Mermaid Chapter One -Lucifer x Mermaid!Reader

Author’s Note: The inspiration here came from a dream of mine, also one of my favorite shows “The Legend of the Blue Sea” has some heavy inspiration in here as well. I might make this into a series please give some feedback if you do??? If anyone wants that anyway??? I hope you like this either way :)

Edit: Thank you for all of the amazing notes, and there is a new part up now!

Next Chapter

________________________________________________________________

Mermaids were very secretive and they adapted to hide in dark underwater caves so they couldn’t be found. They also evolved to have many different abilities from across different oceans, and you were one of them. You were always fascinated by human culture, however, your clan made you very aware of the horrible traits of humans and made you fear humans as well as hate them.

That didn’t stop you from always searching and watching humans from a safe distance. Your clan never liked that you strayed from their traditions of never going to the surface and to leave the human world alone. However, you heard stories of mermaids being able to transform into humans but only when their destiny and heart are needed out of the water. “The moon will pull you towards your destiny,” that is a phrase commonly used in your clan.

One night you were swimming near the ocean floor hanging out with sea anemones and the different groups of fish when you hear the most beautiful voice swimming down to you even through the filter of saltwater. You tentatively swam up to the surface, you were in front of a giant boulder you peaked out on the side where you heard the voice. You saw the epitome of what humans called “Tall, dark, and handsome”. You saw a pier and there were a lot of people gathered together, it was a party, and closer to you was the voice that got you so enamored almost immediately.

You swam closer to the pier and saw the man wearing a black suit, tousled black hair, and very pretty eyes. He was playing on a piano facing sideways from you as gracefully glides his fingers down the keyboard. Now you can hear him even more perfectly and it made you sigh happily as you got closer to the pier.

You heard applause coming from the pier and assumed people were clapping for the man, and you wanted to clap too but didn’t want anyone to see you. Despite that, today wasn’t your lucky day as the man looked towards the ocean and spotted you before you could swim out of sight.

“Oh hello there, I didn’t know people were skinny dipping this late at night,” he said to you.

You sputtered and spun around in the water and looking around for someone else in the water. “Are you talking to me?” you asked.

“Of course I am darling, I don’t see anyone else in the ocean with you,” he replied.

“Oh, people usually don’t notice me when I’m out here. I swam by here because of your voice. That was you, right? Because it was beautiful!” you exclaimed.

“That was me, I’m glad you enjoyed the show,” he said with a big grin. He was sitting at the edge of the pier now as he was talking to you. “Did you want to join the party? I don’t think the hosts would mind much if there’s one more person here.”

“I uh...don’t know where my clothes are? Yeah so, that’s why I don’t want to step out,” you said and even as you said it, it sounded like a lame excuse.

“I’m sure I can find something for you as long as you don’t swim off, why don’t you swim near towards the sandy area of the beach and I’ll meet you there,” he spoke and that big grin hasn’t left his face the entire time. This human man left you completely infatuated with him and had you nodding before you even realize it. The grin turned into a full-on smile as he saw your nod. He clapped his hands and replied, “Well, I’ll meet you over there once I can find some clothes for you.”

You were glad that it was way too dark for anyone to see your tail or scales as you swim to where the water ends and land begins. You looked up to the moon as it shines down on you, and you pray to it, begging her to make you human even for a little while to be with this amazing human that you found. That’s when you felt a sudden change in the tides as it pulled you under. You felt terrified as you never felt this lack of control before and felt a blinding pain in your bottom half, and you looked up through the water and see the moon directly down on you. You had legs! You wiggled your toes and a sound between a giggle and a gasp came out of your lips, then you heard footsteps approach you.

He came back as he said he would with a pretty red thing in his hands, your knowledge of human culture only comes from the conversations and observations you get when you went people watching. “I ran towards my bag to see if I had anything, and all I had was my robe. If that’s alright?” he asked as he lays it down on the ground. “That is, thank you very much for your help. I didn’t know if you would come back or not,” you admitted. “And, what? Leave a gorgeous woman like yourself deserted naked in the ocean alone? I think not,” he smirked.

You didn’t know what humans normally would do in situations like this, so you opted to just walk out the ocean to get the robe. As soon as you stood on land your newfound feet wobbled beneath you and you collapsed back in the water. You let out a huff as you heard the man hold back a snort, you slowly rose back up, testing your feet, you let the water glide off of you, and you put the robe on. It felt so soft, you didn’t human clothes were so soft!

“What is this?” you asked lifting your arms letting the fabric lay over your arms. “It’s silk, have you never felt silk before?” he questioned. “No never, it’s so soft!” you exclaimed smiling wide. “I’m sorry for being so rude, what’s your name?”

“The name’s Lucifer, love,” Lucifer replied. You ran up to him, admittedly very clumsily, and hugged him tightly. “Thank you Lucifer,” you said. You felt him stiffen but then felt him pat your shoulders, you released him after a few seconds. You also smelled a very odd scent off of him, it didn’t smell quite human but you don’t know humans that well so you couldn’t be quite sure.

“And what’s your name?” he asked. You paused your name in Mermish couldn’t be pronounced in the human tongue, so you thought of the next best name. “(Y/N)” you answered. “Do you have any other plans after this?” he inquired.

“I don’t really have any clothes or like a place at all?” you said with a shrug of your shoulders as you pulled the robe closer to your body.

“What do you mean?” he asked and he looked a bit angry? Concerned?

“I-I...I,” you tried to take a deep breath and think of a rational explanation for this. You looked over at the pier deck where there was a crowd of people still there, then you looked up at the moon. She gave you legs, that means this man must be your destiny, he has your heart. The moon pulls you towards your destiny. You looked at him and you started tugging at the sleeves nervously and look him in the eyes. He’s looking at you with patience and kindness that you didn’t know humans possess, that gave you the power to find your words.

“I’m sort of not human?”

#Lucifer Morningstar #lucifer #lucifer fox imagines #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer fox x reader #lucifer netflix #x reader

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alloftheimaginesblog · 4 years ago

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Stupid Sometimes {Plus Size Reader x Tony Stark}

Plot: Tony Stark praises your curves, with no ill intent, but it upsets you because of past experiences. Once he realises that he’s upset you, he tries to show you he’s sorry.

Character: Plus Size Gender Neutral Reader x Tony Stark

Part of my Plus Size Reader x Character Series!

Requested by lilacprincessofrecovery

Every day, Tony made some sort of comment. Usually some form of ‘compliment’ that focussed on your body. Being plus size, Tony liked to compliment you on your confidence, the way you rocked outfits and how you looked. It wasn’t made to sleazy and nine times out of ten, it never came across sleazy. It was made to boost your ego and give you a pep in your step however... it never usually made you feel that way.

All your life, you’d had people talk about your weight; obsess over your health and offer insults in the form of advice. All your life, people put you down, mocked you and told you to lose weight when really, your body was none of their concern. It hurt you a lot then and it hurt you a lot now. They would those types of comments where you’d think about it for days afterwards, thinking you weren’t good enough and neither skinny nor pretty enough. It was horrible. You thought that as you grew up and became an adult, people would focus less on your weight.

Tony didn’t mean to offend or upset you. There was absolutely no malice or ill intent behind his words. He genuinely thought he was being a good friend, how was he to know that you’d had terrible experiences with people focussing on your weight all of your life and he never helped the issue? Even positive focus upset you because again, why did people need to comment on your body and your weight all the time? It’s like when you’ve got a big zit on the end of your nose, you know it’s there, other people know it’s there; why focus on it and cause further embarrassment?

Tony had walked past you as you made lunch in the kitchen and smiled, “I love your confidence in that outfit,” he said as he popped a grape into his mouth, “Other people might not think they can pull an outfit like that off, people tend to think that bigger people can’t pull that stuff off but you can. You rock it.” He thought he was helping, he thought he was being a nice friend to you... that was until, you burst into tears.

You hadn’t meant to get so emotional over it but it was becoming increasingly upsetting as the days went on until you couldn’t take it anymore and until you just burst into tears whilst making a sandwich. Tony stood, kind of awkwardly gawking at you, as he tried to understand the situation.

“What happened?” He asked, eyebrows furrowing together in concern, “Was it me?” All you could do was nod and Tony let out a long sigh, “Was it this morning? I thought you found it funny when I try and make Banner ‘Hulk out’!” You shook your head, wiping your tears as you struggled to gain your composure. Tony frowned, oblivious to the real issue.

“It’s-It’s okay,” you sniffed as you grabbed a tissue and swatted your hand, “I’m just being stupid.” You didn’t like confrontation, you didn’t like getting upset in front of people so you tried to brush it off.

Tony, however, wasn’t having any of it, “No,” he said, catching your wrist gently, “Talk to me... I’ve upset you and I want to make it right.” You sighed and nodded. Tony gave you a small smile, “Come, we’ll sit on the balcony and get fresh air. You can take all the time you need.” You let him lead you outside and let him pull up two chairs for you both. Over the years of knowing Tony, you were one of the few people who had the privilege to see his softer and more caring side. It was nice.

Tony didn’t speak and instead allowed you the time to calm down and gather your thoughts. When you eventually did speak, he turned to face you, “It was what you said in the kitchen that upset me,” you said slowly.

“About Banner?” You shook your head.

“About my outfit and weight,” you sniffed, looking anywhere but at him.

He frowned, once again confused, “I was telling you how good you looked - it wasn’t meant to upset you.”

“I know,” you said and you did know that he truly didn’t mean to upset you, “I know you meant it as a compliment but... I don’t like that sort of stuff.”

“You don’t like compliments?”

“I don’t like compliments centred around my body or weight,” you corrected him. He leaned forwards, curiously, “Tony, all my life people focussed on my weight. They told me I was too heavy, that I was a whale, that I should go on a diet. People would say ‘you’d be prettier if you were skinny’ to me thinking that it was a compliment. People constantly thought they had a say in my weight and the way my body looked.”

Realisation began to dawn on Tony as he muttered a small ‘oh’.

“You’re only trying to be nice and boost my confidence, I get that and I appreciate the intent but... my weight isn’t your concern, nor anybody else’s; why should you or anyone else focus on it and only talk about it? I had years of bad experiences like that which have severely impacted on me negatively... So, even though I know you don’t mean it to be upsetting-”

“It comes across like you need my approval to look a certain way; like I have a say in what your weight should be or what your body should look like.” Tony nodded, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I would’ve stopped...”

You shrugged, “I thought I could deal with it but... I obviously can’t.”

Tony reached out, grabbing your hands and rubbing his thumbs across your knuckles gently. He looked deep into your eyes as he apologised, “I’m sorry. I truly am. I’m stupid sometimes. I make stupid comments sometimes. I can be a right dick sometimes. What I don’t want to be is the person who hurts you. I am really sorry. I promise you, from now on I won’t comment on your body or weight. I’ll compliment you in other ways.”

It meant a lot to you that he said that, it meant a lot that he understood that he upset you and instead, apologised. You thanked him for his apology, squeezing his hands. In a matter of minutes, the issue had been resolved and dropped and you found yourselves talking about other things but Tony couldn’t get the fact he’d upset you that much out of his head.

The next day, you woke up feeling a lot better about the situation. Tony had been a real gem; he’d apologised and understood straight away. He told you that he’d never had those experiences and he was sorry for not thinking the comments through properly. It was nice to hear, it was nice that someone listened to your feelings about those types of comments instead of brushing you off.

When you opened your eyes, you were surprised to see that you were surrounded by flowers. You sat up, looking around the room, seeing more than a dozen bouquets of flowers - all different breeds and colours - around the room. You were confused, and a little weirded out that someone was in your room as you slept, when you noticed an envelope on your bedside table. You opened it curiously.

Dearest (y/n),

After yesterday, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I’d upset you so I wanted to do something nice for you. I wanted you to wake up to a beautiful view of your favourite types of flowers.

I am truly sorry about it all and I do hope that you’ll forgive me.

If not, I’ll make you a wonderful breakfast of pancakes, syrup and bacon when you wake up and surely that’ll make you forgive me... If it doesn’t, I’m sure I can conjure up another surprise.

I can compliment you one thousand other ways but I’ll only list a few. I admire your courage and your strength. I appreciate that you listen to me and when I was having bad nightmares and panic attacks, I appreciated that you stayed up with me to talk about them or not talk about them - depending on how I felt. I love that we have a similar type of humour - you’re the best when it comes to a partner for pranks. I admire your kindness and your patience - you have the patience of a saint. I enjoy being your friend and it makes me happy that we’re so close and I daresay that this experience will bring us closer together. You’re beautiful - but you don’t need me to tell you that.

I do hope you forgive me,

T.S

Tears welled in your eyes as you finished the letter. He was someone who made stupid comments sometimes and could be stupid sometimes but he was sweet and kind and when he cared about someone, he truly did care. You manvoured your way around the flowers and rushed out of your bedroom. You found him standing in the kitchen drinking coffee.

“You’re up!” He grinned, “Pancake- oomph!” You crashed into him, hugging him tightly, almost knocking him off of his feet at the force of which you charged. You murmured a small ‘thank you’ into his shoulder as you hugged him, “I take it you liked your flowers then.”

You let go a few seconds later, “I loved it, Tony. I loved your letter too. You didn’t have to, you know. I’d forgiven you yesterday.”

Tony smiled, “I know but I wanted to make sure you knew how sorry I was... Now... Pancakes?”

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pepperpills · 3 years ago

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The Harvest - RE8 Fanfic

The Harvest

A Resident Evil 8 fan fiction by Joana

Karl Heisenberg x Female Reader

Notes: heey, so here is Part III, hope you all enjoy it! i'm thinking of starting a new story soon, once this is ended, probably focusing more on world building and Karl and reader relationship hehe

Warning: NSFW content

Part I - Destiny (1) Part I - Destiny (2) Part II - The Lord

Part III – The Hunt

Getting to know the factory turned out to be a fantastic experience. You had never seem so many different paraphernalia in your live, the closer you had ever got to that was when you were a child poking around your dad’s storeroom, but there were only some tools, agriculture products and inherited ornaments from your cabin family – these last ones were your absolute favourite.

Heisenberg’s factory, on the other hand, was full of interesting things, some of them you had no idea what were used for. You even found a suspicious “torture” room, but couldn’t dig into it, once he was nearby. Still, you found his journals narrating his experiments, his audio reports and some guide books on mechanics that had you intrigued for a long time while reading them. He was a madman, you were convinced, but at the same time, that secluded part of you was growing a little each day you explored his life.

Lord Heisenberg was nicer and quieter than you would imagine. He basically lived in his various offices across the factory, mostly he would be trying new mechanisms on bodies and seeing how they reacted with the Cadou, the strange parasite the villagers mentioned only on rare and veiled conversations. As far as it wasn’t you, or your family, lying cold on one of the stretchers, you didn’t care. As a matter of fact, you felt tempted to try some things with the gears yourself as you deepen your studies in his books.

At your first days there, you got worried you would have to share the bed with him, which would be much more proximity than you had ever had with another person. The man had already seen your half naked and that was enough. However, he didn’t sleep there with you and you wondered why, once he so enthusiastically mocked you about it when you arrived. Actually, you started doubting he ever slept at all.

You were still a bit scared, though, never knowing if he would play a prank on you, so you were very careful to avoid him for a while - that didn’t endure –, believing you should give him space to get used to your presence after the mood he got into after your reception.

He was disturbed, indeed. His work was getting closer to a crucial point that involved Mother Miranda. He musted be discreet, but it was proving to be a real trial with Soldats activating and running around as lost beasts. Also, having you around actually gave him a new problem.

Lord Heisenberg would walk around the factory looking for material, testing the Soldats and cursing a lot, some of these swearwords you didn’t even know, but started liking how he used them, almost cartoonish. It was never directed to you, of course. He acted like you weren’t there most of the time, in others, when he was more chilled, with less work to do, he asked “how is the mess at the wing, buttercup?” laughing at you blushing at his indiscreet platonic flirts.

You had to find your way around the factory. That place was a labyrinth and a map would come handy, so you drew it on some clean papers you found lying around, loving not to get lost anymore. You hadn’t been face-to-face to one of his creations yet, just saw them on the production lines on the overview of the factory and on some specific rooms. You also avoided it due to fear.

He told you where the wing to be cleaned was and you found it after an hour. It was so incredibly packed with mechanical parts that you could barely come inside to take a look. Huffing, you thought that he could solve that without moving a muscle. It made you mad, but also made you wonder what you were doing there. You cleaned it anyway, as it was your duty and used that waste to build some minor projects.

At the end of your expedient, your hands were orange because of the rusty irons you were moving all day long and you had little cuts here and there, but nothing really bad. As it was going, it wouldn’t take long for you to finish cleaning and could even decorate it for him, making it feel more like home to you too.

You were liking it there. Of course, it was dusty, grey, sometimes rusty and hot all the time, but it was also very different from everything. Once you said goodbye to the cabins, then to the Village and maybe being away from Miranda’s dominance made you feel lighter.

You found some red fabric lying around somewhere, appearing to be forgotten, made some nature sketches on blank papers and put yellow lights on the bedroom and on Karl’s soon-to-be new working room. It looked cosy. You hoped he would appreciate it when he met the reformed wing, until then, you would keep quiet not to bother him.

Though, shortly after you finished decorating the bedroom, an event destroyed your plans of avoiding Heisenberg. On your daily route to what you would now call your wing, you crossed the kitchen and found an overcoat-less Karl trying to prepare a sandwich. He had any chef’s nightmare happening in that place. There were blunt knives flying around, a metal cup chasing the kettle spilling hot coffee all over the floor as he tried to open a bottle of whiskey and, finally, hot coffee hit Heisenberg’s chest and he screamed and cursed like a sore animal.

“FUCK!” He thundered, his word echoing in the corridor where you stood.

You couldn’t ignore that scene even if you tried. You were getting tired of not talking to him, you lived together now and all your few friends were slowly becoming distant memories. You would be happy to hear his voice, something else than gears rumble, even if it was cursing your predecessors.

As a powerful person, he would try to use his powers to do simple things and do a real mess instead. You felt compelled to give him some support, maybe it was a part of your mother’s care for others that lived in you too. You entered the kitchen headstrong, holding a laugh at his misery looks. Now he was stroking his shirt with a cloth and only noticed you when you were getting around the island.

You didn’t know, however, he never “never noticed” you. He felt your presence at the corridor before you saw him and he felt ashamed of you seeing him failing at a stupid task, and so forth his reaction was to be boorish.

“What?” He asked in a rude tone.

“Just let me help.” You offered, placing your hand in the air between you two. It wasn’t really an offer, you were just being polite, you would help him one way or another, you would have your small talk, but he wouldn’t give up so easily. “Please.” You asked, making the sweeter voice you could.

He huffed and threw the wet cloth on the sink. You took another cloth from one of the drawers – you were getting used to the utensils’ places –, wet it a little with water and looked at him, your head slightly tilted to the right.

“What is it, kitten?” Heisenberg questioned, roughly playful then.

“It is your shirt.” You pointed.

“Yes, it is dirty. Weren’t you trying to help?” He started to lose patience.

“Yeah, I am. It is just… You will have to take it off.” You let it out unpretentiously, although in your mind you were revengeful.

“Oh.” He understood and immediately took it off with so much easiness you wondered how many times he did that when you were so uncertain of it at your first day.

You had never seem him shirtless. To be quite sincere, you hadn’t seen many shirtless men in your life. The Village was a very cold town, once it was deep into a forest in the mountains, so even in the summer there wasn’t a hot weather, so people tended to keep their clothes on. Because of this, when he took it off you instantly blushed at his scarred chest.

He has what you would call a dad body. It isn’t really sinewy, although still very strong with thick arms and defined muscles. He has some belly, which means he isn’t a skinny person, but he isn’t fat also. And maybe you took too long looking at him like that and feeling weird feelings you would think about later that night.

“You’re almost drooling there, buttercup.” He teased you and when you quickly, but gently, started cleaning his chest with the cloth, so you wouldn’t have to answer, he gave up a deliciously loud laugh.

You laughed with him, making him laugh even harder. You didn’t want to admit it, but you liked it, this casual connection between you two. The laugh died a gradual death and you started moving you hand on his chest, feeling its warmth below the cloth. You could almost swear his breathing was getting faster and you saw he was biting his lips, maybe because you were taking too long. You didn’t want to finish, but you both know there wasn’t much coffee on him anyway.

You put the cloth with the other one in the sink and as you watered them, you saw him going to get his shirt that had been laying on the island.

“No, no, no.” You said, taking it from his hands kind brusquely, making him confused. “I need to wash these.”

“I see.” He said, raising his hands to show he wouldn’t try again, as a peace offer that made you grin.

“I can finish your sandwich for you, it will only take a minute.” You added, embarrassed to be so bossy with him.

“I will be at my office.” He told you and left without looking back.

You thought he got mad at you because of the shirt situation. It made you sad, you started having a nice approach. To compensate you made him a really good sandwich with the meat and vegetables you found in the refrigerator. Searching for food there you considered asking him to go see the Duke and buy supplies, maybe even hunt, because you didn’t have enough provisions. Anyway, you also prepared the coffee, poured a glass of cowboy whisky – sipped one, two or three times yourself – and cleaned what was there to be cleaned. It took more than one minute, but less than teen.

You were heading to his office when you heard a muffled noise. It sounded guttural and made you shiver. Electricity running through your body, making you feel hopelessly exposed, only that countered by the alcohol it felt good. You stepped carefully as you got closer to the door. You considered not knocking, but the noise made you knock.

“Just…” He gasped. “Leave it at the door, please.” Heisenberg was painting, but he asking “please” was what made up your mind, that politeness wasn’t usual, so you did what he requested.

You wanted to be around him on that day, but chose to respect his privacy. You didn’t imagine that his mind was blowing with you, he desperately wanted to continue the kitchen talk, but couldn’t give himself the chance once he was so close to perfecting the Soldats.

To ease your thoughts, as you were no longer requested at the factory, you tested your stealth skills and slipped to the forest behind it, caring your bow and arrows determinedly.

You were familiar with that area as you have hunted all around the Village, thus, you knew where to go to find good preys. It was by the lake were the deer stopped to drink water. It was far from the factory entrance, but again, you knew exactly what you were doing. When approaching the lake, you climbed a tree and waited.

It didn’t take long until a lonely deer appeared, unsuspicious. It leaned its head so it could reach the water level and started drinking it. You positioned one arrow, held your breath and did the physics magic. The arrow nailed its left eye. It didn’t scream, it was over very quickly.

You climbed the tree down, came closer to the body and tied it with the rope you brough from the factory. Your way back wasn’t effortless, you were slower due to the extra weight and the lycans sensed its blood, their sounds were all around you. They wouldn’t hurt your, though, somehow, they knew you were with Heisenberg.

It was past four in the afternoon when you reached the factory, panting with the effort of bringing the deer. Heisenberg was poking around for something in his front yard. He noticed you just as you appeared in his peripherical vision. He walked towards you, with an intrigued expression that transformed into an impressed one when he saw the deer.

“Some gifts you have there, kitten, ain’t gonna lie.” He commented, squatting to take a good look at the animal. “How did you do that?” It was clear he didn’t mean to offend, quite the opposite, he was genuinely curious.

“A girl has her secrets.” You answered, when you finally stop panting, shrugging when internally you are fulfilled someone knew about you hunting and didn’t seem mad at you.

He wasn’t even angry you left the factory without his permission, which made you happier. He stood below you with the animal for a few seconds more, than got up on his feed, laid his hands on your shoulders, well, on your skin hunting jacket, and said “You are really something, kitten.”

You fell for his words. You never wanted to feel that dependant on someone’s appreciation for you, but with him it was lighter. Karl took the weight of the world off your shoulders by bringing you there and kind off supporting you even though you had only spent little more than a month together.

“Thank you, my lord.” You spoke.

“Stop it. Call me Karl.” He said roughly, but good hearted. “Now, do you know how to clean this deer?” Heisenberg asked.

Usually, Duke would do it for you, although you knew the theory, you hadn’t much practice.

“I was hoping you could help me with it, Karl.” You suggested, toasting him a malicious smile.

“For fuck’s sake.” But he cursed laughing.

He cleaned this table at the garage and disposed the deer there. You helped him doing the messy job, learning with him what you only saw the Duke doing. It wasn’t pretty, but you were comforted by his presence and obstinacy. He probably did it often as it showed, but didn’t bother to take it slower so he could teach you.

Heisenberg enjoyed that night more than you could imagine. He didn’t care for the Soldats, they could wait, it was nice being around you for a change, not running away from your hair, your smile, your presence. For the first time in his life, he actually had someone who wanted to be around him.

Later your prepared venison, demi-glace, potatoes, a fresh arugula salad and both of your enjoyed dinner at the kitchen island with bottles of dark beer. He was funny, he was tripping over words a little, due to the alcohol, but his stories, oh man… He was a real brat. You told him about the cabins and the hunting. He listened carefully, never judging you and laughed at your silly manners, at your etiquette and, over all, loved your cook.

He slept in the bed with you, tired, amused and drunk, he sunk in his dreams. You stayed up a bit longer, resisting your lazy eyes temptations just to appreciate his scent, it would smell like burned wood.

#resident evil #re8 #karl heisenberg #re village #karl heisenberg x reader #resident evil 8 village #heisenberg #heisendaddy #heisenberg resident evil #resident evil viii #resident evil 8 fanfic #original post #resident evil village #re8 karl heisenberg #resident evil heisenberg #fanfic #re fanfic #the harvest

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forasecondtherewedwon · 4 years ago

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Queen Takes

Pairing: Beth Harmon/Benny Watts Rating: M Word Count: 1938

Summary:

With Beth home from Moscow, her friends gather to celebrate her achievement. One guest arrives late.

The colour of Kentucky feels like a trick after Moscow. Her blue home—her mother’s home—is a playhouse, not the American standard it’s masquerading as. Sure, Russia with its cold, with its blacks and browns across the walls of the hotel where she stayed and on the jackets of the old men in the park, is striving for a monopoly on drab stoicism, but Beth Harmon passed her early years in a trailer as silver as a bare tin can. You can find barrenness anywhere, even inside a person.

Across the coffee table, Jolene looks back at Beth like she knows what she’s thinking, those morbid thoughts. Beth can hear the smooth crack of her friend’s voice in her head. It’s… comforting, the sense that someone can simultaneously have no time and all the time in the world for her. Jolene’s eyes don’t tell her she’s a fool for taking so long to recognize love or a genius for refusing the draw (plus everything before and after)—they just say, nice dress. Subtly, Beth raises her Coke and inclines it towards her friend. Thanks.

Matt and Mike are keeping her living room balanced, one twin on either couch. Harry’s moving his hands with precision and intensity as he reiterates the brilliance of Beth’s endgame over Borgov, though Jolene is laughing at him, laughing in airy howls, because she has no interest in chess. Unlike Alma/Mrs. Wheatley/Mother, Jolene does not possess the patience to sit and listen while Beth unravels her win, move by move. How different is a friend from a sister, a sister from a mother, a mother from another mother again. This is fine. Beth, smiling, admires her guests and accepts that she has quite enough chess-lovers in her life.

There’s a knock at the door.

Jolene’s laugh cuts off like there should be a blade dangling in midair.

“Well,” she says to Beth, “go get him.”

“He’s worse than any of these three,” Beth warns with a smile, stalling and hopefully concealing the waver in her words, hands, and heartbeat.

“I’m anticipating a sanctimonious pain in the ass, and that’s just from the articles I read about you playing him.”

“You could’ve met him in New York,” Mike says as Beth gets a grip on herself and the couch, pushing up and striding with sudden purpose to the front door.

“Fight New York City traffic in my nice car? Just to sit in some dirty concrete basement? All of you talking nothing but chess?” She huffs a laugh from her nose. “Even when I was an orphan, I had better things to do than that.”

Beth’s heart is doing something painful and distracting in her chest and she misses any rejoinder the boys might have made, though she wouldn’t advise one. Very few people are so much their own person as Jolene is. Very few. Her hand is clammy on the knob as she takes hold and swings the door open. He doesn’t speak, and yet she hears, again, his voice down the long, long line, reaching her in her hotel room the night before the final. He doesn’t even smile.

“Benny,” Beth breathes, and collapses into him when he greets her with a startling kiss that captures the remainder of her oxygen. Her eyebrows raise when he pulls back. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

His gaze dips down to her dress and back to her face. Now, he smiles.

“I guess I’m playing white.”

She narrows her eyes.

“What happened to determining sides with an impartial method?”

“Don’t have any pieces on me to hide in my hands. You wouldn’t happen to have a board in the house, would you?”

Beth smiles again and holds the door wide to let Benny enter her home. She sees his car tucked against the curb out front. Likely, it contains his hat. His head is uncovered.

“And that was fair, by the way,” he whispers as she walks him into the living room. “When have you known me to skip a chance at making the first move?”

With the addition to the party, there are fresh drinks to be poured, trips to the bathroom to be taken, and things are shuffled around some until Jolene joins Beth on one couch, the twins and Benny opposite. He’s slung his leather jacket over the back of the couch and elects to sit forward. With his elbows braced on his thighs in this way and fingers intertwined in the space between, he could be contemplating one of their many games. But it’s her he looks at—staring straight across with a steadiness she can’t match in front of the others.

Jolene and Benny swap remarks, her judgements a strange and wonderful counter for the way he has always spoken in foregone conclusions. She calls him by his full name every time, just the way she told Beth she read it. As the afternoon stretches and Jolene’s career ambitions take their place in the conversation, Benny begins to call her ‘Esquire’. Beth looks on warily. Jolene breaks into a slow smile and nods her permission with a proud bob of her chin.

They bring out the cake she’s been pretending not to know about. Once, on a plane, she told her mother that a Houston tournament would take first place in her life’s Christmases; well, this feels like the best birthday she’s ever had and she doesn’t even have to age for it. Beth only cries at moments of excruciating frustration or when she is ambushed by emotion, no escape route of three moves prepared, so, naturally, the tears spill over.

“You. You did this,” Jolene insists, firm hold on her shoulders as she rocks Beth side to side on the couch.

Beth can only sniffle and smile down at the cake, chocolate, as Benny wields a knife (from a drawer in the kitchen) to slice uneven pieces. It’s heavenly. Despite high hopes of leftovers and sending each guest home with a slice, the six of them devour the cake. Harry chases the last crumbs around his plate, Matt groans and kicks his feet up on the table in search of relief for his overstuffed stomach, and Beth lies on the floor, raking her fork lazily through the icing before raising it to her lips and licking the tines clean. It’s only the pleasure of the day she means to extend with this exercise, but she can feel Benny’s eyes on her. Black makes its opening move.

She hugs each of her friends at the door as they drag themselves away. The alternative is to risk passing out across her chic living room set, and she hasn’t offered to let them stay. If any of them asked, she certainly would, but no one is at a loss for where they’ll be spending the night and they’re all—Beth knows—too aware of the car parked out front with the New York plates to want to intrude.

“You’re a queen,” Jolene says. She’s the final person to fold her into a hug. “You deserve this and more. And I bet,” she adds, dropping her voice so it’s just for Beth, not Benny, standing at the picture window and watching the boys drive away, “tonight’s going to feel even better than when you wiped Ohio with his skinny ass. Or whatever the hell happened between the two of you since then.”

Beth draws back, hands still on her friend’s waist, and gives her a look.

“Please,” Jolene begs, “it’s obvious. You’re World Champion and I am staring at the only thing Benny Watts wants to win.” She leans in with a conspiratorial smile. “This and more, Cocksucker.”

Laughing out loud, they break apart. Beth’s flushed as she waves from the doorway, arm making a wide sweep over her head, tears of gratitude welling up as her friend peels away. She dabs beneath her eyes with her fingers. She shuts the door. She flicks her eyes to Benny as she sidles around the little bit of wall separating the living room from the front room, dominated by her mother’s piano.

“I threw up in that one,” Beth volunteers, pointing out a silver cup trophy to Benny as he turns from the window. He shoots her a critical look.

“And the papers all say you’re so glamorous.”

“Everyone’s different in their own home.”

Benny gives a sideways nod to concede this.

“You’re different, I think,” she ventures. She’s less sure now, skirting the piano to come closer to him. “Like you might actually sit down.”

“I sit down,” he protests.

“For something other than a journalist.”

“I sat on your couch for hours.”

“Like you might actually stay.”

Him not entertaining her with flimsy attempts to leave, to find a hotel for the night, was his move. This boldness is Beth’s. Will he laugh at her? He could. She wonders if Harry ever mentioned to Benny that he did a stint as her roommate.

“Are you going to pull something inflatable out of someplace and condemn me to blowing it up?”

She laughs under her breath.

“No. You’re welcome to come upstairs.”

There are dishes, a light left on in the kitchen, but this mess is unlike what she did to the space herself while drunk. This scene is simply lived-in. Beth ignores the dishes and the light, eyes locked on Benny. It isn’t ‘now or never’ with him like it was with Harry—with Benny, it’s then and again. He brushes by her at the piano, the way he would in his New York apartment before they began sleeping together; the more he made sure not to touch her, the smaller the space felt. The near-collisions alone nearly drove her mad, she didn’t need chess for that. But when he’s almost past her, his fingertips connect with her skin and trickle down her arm to take her hand. Beth exhales with a smile. His middlegame remains the least predictable stage of his play.

Though she’s made the master bedroom her own, she turns the other way at the top of the stairs, right instead of left, wanting to show him where she studied and learned. He lets himself be pushed back onto her flowered bedspread. She indicates the torn mesh canopy overhead as she staggers forward on her knees to sit astride him and he hikes the black dress up her thighs. As he reaches for her back and unzips her—Beth tilting accommodatingly towards his chest—she talks ceiling visualization. How she found it, how she mastered it, how she got it back in Moscow. She waits for Benny to parrot her annoyance over discussing chess at a time like this, but he wears an empathetic smirk. Following leisurely minutes of undressing each other—“Slow down, Harmon, this isn’t speed chess”—that smirk is just about all he wears.

His necklaces glide across her chest as he kisses her neck. When he slips his hand between her legs, she invokes touch-move, insisting he finish what he’s started. Play progresses from there. This is all mine, she thinks, feeling Benny, denting a pink pillowcase with her clutching hands.

They’ve written her up as someone who attacks early and with ferocity. She lunges and thrusts, she likes control. ‘Out for blood,’ ‘killer instinct’—they make her something more than human. In her time, she’s been a talent, a prodigy, a virtuoso, a wunderkind. All of that’s become a bit mechanical. Have they forgotten, or have they never understood? Beth swipes her fingers through Benny’s hair as they catch their breath.

Chess can also be beautiful.

#my writing #The Queen's Gambit #Beth Harmon #Benny Watts #beth x benny #I haven't jumped fandoms in almost a year so it was about time

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axwalker · 4 years ago

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Happy Birthday, Maskaneko! A Tears in Heaven one-shot.

The beautiful edit in the moodboard was made by the talented, creative birthday girl @mskaneko 💕💕💕

Happy birthday again!!! As I said earlier, I’m so grateful to have you in my life. I hope you’ll spend an amazing day.

I love youuu ❤️❤️❤️ @mskaneko

You said you’d be happy with a peek into Drake and Lexie’s life in Tears in Heaven. So here it is. I hope you’ll enjoy it. 🎉🎉🎉

Warnings: Mention of the death of a child, grief. Language and smut.

It’s been a tough year. Lexie and I have been working hard, and between our demanding jobs and Lennie, we’re exhausted. It’s a miracle we were both able to clear our schedules for a few days to come to Corsica to Max’s and Rashad’s house for a short vacation. We need this much more than we’re able to admit. I miss my time with Lexie. I need more of her. If there is one thing I can admit to myself, it’s that. That there is nothing more fundamental, more important to my happiness, than my wife and my little girl.

A roar of laughter interrupts my thoughts. I look through the window, and I can’t help but smile at the sight down by the shore. Jaiden is chasing Lena to the edge of the ocean, and every time the water splashes up on her little legs, she squeals and runs back, her face animated with some mix of terror and delight.

A throaty laugh harmonizes with my squirt’s high-pitched giggles, and Lexie walks into view. Her dark hair is scooped up into a messy bun, and she’s all long, sun-kissed legs and rounded baby-belly in her orange bikini. It will never get old, how my heart thumps a little harder when I see her. Desperate to get to her. I leave the home office and walk barefoot and bare-chested over to the windows and sliding door. Lexie and I wasted too many years and made too many mistakes before we came together again. We both had a lot of growing up to do, a lot of pain to overcome but seeing her with our little girl and Maxwell’s boy chasing the waves, seeing her pregnant again, this good life was worth all the patience in the world. She is worth the wait. I press my palm to the cool glass and let years of memories wash over me, all the painful years spent apart. Being with my family always provides perspective. I might feel exhausted sometimes, but my heart, my life is whole. The axis of my existence it’s those two people down there playing in the ocean like they don’t have a care in the world. Seeing that lifts my burdens, too. And it reminds me that we can’t let life interfere with our lives as a family. Work can’t take so much room in our lives, is not who we are.

After turning my laptop off, I cross over to the sliding door, slipping out and not bothering with anything other than the blue shorts I’m already wearing. Lexie is laughing as Lena tries to lift Jaiden and they both collapse into the water. I walk toward them, silent until I’m close, and then run past Lexie, playfully slapping her ass. She squeaks, jumping a little, her face lighting up when she sees me.

“Where’d you come from?” She laughs. I back my way into the cool waves and wink at her as an answer before turning to scoop up both Lena and Jai, one under each arm. “Daddy!” my girl screams in her sweet voice. I keep running until the ocean stirs around my waist and dunk them both to the neck, making sure to keep their heads out of the water. Their giggles and squeaks occupy the next five minutes of what suddenly feels like a perfect day.

“Uncle Dake,” Jai says. “Put me up on your shoulders.” Lexie takes Helena so I can lift Jaiden. The heels of his little feet kick against my chest, and he squeezes my neck as we go deeper into the water.

“I can swim, Mom,” Lena says from behind us. “Put me down.”

Lena’s five, and while she still likes me to toss her around, she doesn’t tolerate it from her smaller mother all that much. I’m not crazy about it either, considering Lexie’s six months pregnant.

“It’s deeper than you think, Lennie,” Lexie says. “I don’t think it is a good idea.”

Alexis and I went back to therapy when Helena turned three. Slowly, almost without noticing it, we were turning into overprotective, smothering parents. Lexie refused to go anywhere without her, and she’d have horrible panic attacks when her work forced her to travel. Therapy certainly helped a lot, but as much as I would love to say that it was like turning on a switch, that we don’t suffocate Lena anymore, it would be a lie. We would never be those two carefree parents we were ten years ago. But we’re trying; we both want our kids to have the best possible life.

After begging a little more, Lexie gives in, and sure enough, in seconds, Lennie is swimming past me, her skinny arms and legs slicing through the waves, her hair in two small braids.

“Baby, that’s fair enough,” I call out. The ocean isn’t turbulent today, but I don’t want to take any chances. It can change fast. Calm one second and treacherous the next. Lena turns, doggy paddling to stay afloat, her cute face wet and frowning.

“But, Daddy—”

“Do I repeat myself, Lena?” She frowns the brown eyes so like Lexie’s widening. She shakes her head.

“No, sir.”

“Then that’s far enough.” I gentle my words with a smile, take the few steps separating us and tap her head with Jaiden’s foot. She giggles and swims a circle around me, disappearing for a second underwater and then popping back up, laughing again.

“I need to learn that trick,” Lexie says wryly. “I tried last week, asked her if I repeat myself, and she just stared at me and said, ‘What’d you say, Mommy?’”

I can’t help it, I laugh, and Lexie glares at me.

“You know she loves pressing your buttons. Every time she finds a new one, she just has to push.”

“Looking forward to her teenage years.” I pull her close, anchoring Jaiden by one leg and looping an arm around her, cupping her stomach.

“If she’s as sassy as you, baby. I’m not looking forward to them either.” Lexie leans her head on my shoulder, covering my hand with hers on her stomach. There’s a subtle movement beneath my fingers.

“Lexie,” I breathe. “Did you feel that? They’re moving.” Of course, she felt it. It’s her body, but she just laughs. It’s not the first time the twins have moved, but I always seem to miss it, so it’s the first time I’ve felt the life growing inside Lexie for myself.

“One of them is moving.” She guides my hand to the other side of her stomach. “This guy has been quiet all day.”

“Guy?” I raise one questioning brow. “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t find out. You got some divination powers I know nothing about?”

She shrugs. “I just have a feeling they’re both guys. God save me. Lennie and I will be outnumbered.”

I chuckle “You hear that, Lennie? Your mom says we’re getting two boys. What do you think?”

“I want sisters! Boys are yucky.” Jaiden jumps to the water, and they start a water war.

“You heard the girl,” I tell Lexie. “Boys are yucky. I sure hope she’ll think like that for a long time.”

Lexie laughs. “I honestly don’t care.” She grimaces and rubs the small of her back. “I’m so big this time, I just want them out . I’ve already gained as much weight as I had by the end with Lena. I’m huge.”

I lean over to whisper in her ear. “You’re sexy as hell, Lexie. Always.”

She turns her head so our mouths are mere inches apart, our lips separated by a single breath. “You think so, huh?”

“I’ll show you tonight,” I whisper over her mouth.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Jaiden chants. We glance down at our godson, and both laugh.

“You kiss all the time,” Lena mutters from a few feet away. She’s not wrong, but in my defense, her mother is irresistible.

“Lena, we need to get back inside,” Lexie says. “We’ve been in the water all day, and you need your lunch. I bet Max made the grill sandwiches you love so much. After lunch, we can get ice cream from Amorino.”

“A few more minutes, Mommy, please? So, Daddy can swim with me?” Lena asks, lips pouty and huge eyes pleading. If she figures out, she has me wrapped around her little finger, we’re doomed. Who am I kidding? The girl was born knowing. “You think you can keep up with me? Okay squirt. Let’s go.”

After a while, we get out of the water and join the others for lunch in the terrace. Lena claps and rocks her shoulders, some little move she and Jaiden made up. The two are thick as thieves. Jaiden’s at our house as much as Lena is at Rash and Maxwell’s.

“What’s that you’re drawing, Lennie?” Liv asks. She might not like kids, but she sure is crazy about her goddaughter.

“It’s us!” Lena grins.

“Let me see.” I reach for the paper. Lexie walks up beside me and looks down at the drawing in my hand. It’s a man-stick figure with which I assume is a stethoscope around his neck, obviously me. A shorter woman-stick she’s colored caramel and who has brown lines drawn around her shoulders for hair. Jaiden made Lexie’s stomach a circle and there’s two orange round things inside.

“Grapefruit,” Lennie says. “Mommy said the babies are like grapefruits now.”

“Ahhhh.” Lexie purses her lips against a smile. “You got them perfectly, baby.”

In her drawing, she is standing between Lexie and me, holding our hands. I tilt my head, staring at what Lena’s holding in the drawing. A white bird?

“What’s that white thing your holding, squirt?”

“It’s Tom!” She says, her smile wide and proud. “He’s an angel, like mommy said.” Tom’s name, said so unexpectedly, causes the adults on the terrace to hold their breaths collectively. Lexie goes perfectly still beside me, and her hand goes instinctively to her stomach. That old fear lives in the back of both our minds. As much as losing Tom still hurts, we talk openly about him to our daughter, making sure she knows she has a big brother looking out for her all the time, even though she never met him.

“You can have it, Mommy,” Lena offers, her beautiful smile slipping, his childish intuition sharp enough to pick up on the shift of mood in the terrace. “I-I drew it for you, so we can put it in the twins’ nursery.”

“It’s so good, Lennie. That’s a great idea,” I say, glancing at Lexie, who stares down at the paper. Even though she isn’t crying, her eyes have that look of shattered glass she sometimes gets when she thinks of Tom. Unfortunately, therapy doesn’t eradicate pain. Not for the first time, I wish I could carry it for her, but I can’t.

“This is your most beautiful drawing yet, Lennie,” Lexie says after clearing her voice, reaching down to caress the angel on it. “I love it very, very much. It will look perfect in their room.” She bends to kiss her hair, closes her eyes tightly and then cups Helena’s little head and kisses her forehead, too. She clears her throat and pulls back to spread an overbright smile and says, “Who’s ready for ice cream?”

ALEXIS

Accident. That’s how everybody described what happened to my baby boy. An accident. It does hurt less than it used to. At first, I couldn’t think about Tom without aching and falling into a black hole. Five horrible years, where I needed to numb myself or ignore my pain to keep breathing. An empty shell that had trouble breathing. I would cringe at the sound of Tom’s name, incapable of pronouncing it myself. Not because I didn’t want to hear it, but because I wanted to hold him so badly. It’s been years, but my body perfectly recalls the sweet little weight of him in my arms. His scent still fills my nostrils if I draw a deep enough breath. I remember the dark tangle of curls brushing against my cheek. His little voice calling me mommy. Some days my head and thoughts are locked in a room with those last memories, and I don’t want to leave because he’s still there. As difficult as that day was, in that memory, he’s still there. But life goes on. It has moved on, and I’m a baby two and three. I’m years into a marriage full of love I spent five years thinking wasn’t even possible.

“You okay?” I glance up from the table, from Lenna’s drawing, which I’ve found myself thinking about all day, to see Liv, wearing concern on her intense green eyes. The terrace is clear of dishes from tonight’s meal, and everyone’s gone to their respective corners. It’s just Livvie and me.

“I’m fine.” The concern on her face stays. “I swear; I’m fine,” I say. “Just thinking. Remembering.”

“Anything you want to talk about?” Her voice is unusually soft. Her gaze, as usual, is knowing.

“I’m all talked out. A lifetime of expensive therapy will do that to a girl. I guess I’m feeling more than thinking, but I’m good.”

“Okay. I’m here if you need me.”

“I know Liv. I don’t know how I would have done otherwise.”

“I think I will go join Maxwell for a nightcap”

“Now you’re talking.” I sigh and stand from the table, squeeze her hand. “I’m going to turn in. Take a quick bath since Drake is putting Lena to bed.”

“Alright. I’ll see you in the morning.” She gives me a wry grin. “I may even cook breakfast.”

I deadpan, and Liv chuckles. “Did I say cook? I meant order.”

I laugh. “That’s more like it. Good night, Liv,” I say, grabbing Lena’s drawing.

After just a few minutes in the bathtub, I dry off and belt a terry cloth robe over my nakedness, smiling when both babies move. “Hello, boys.” I don’t care what Drake says, I know what I feel. “I’d love for Daddy to feel both of you move. Can we make a deal that you’ll let him feel you both at some point?”

“Daddy would love that, too,” Drake says from the doorway. Leaning one shoulder into the door and wearing a white shirt, sleeves-rolled-up, he looks so attractive, my husband. His face grows more handsome the older he gets. He has that strong virility that somehow converts years into sexual magnetism. I walk over and reach up to caress his jaw, shadowed with stubble.

“You have a little gray in your beard, Mr. Walker.” I close the space between us and tip my toes to kiss him.

He grunts, closing his eyes and leaning into me, his hardness pressing into my belly. I want him so badly. The restlessness I’ve felt most of the day needs an outlet, and I know the best, most pleasurable way to get it.

“Lie down,” he says, leading me to the bed. My hand goes to the belt of my robe, but he stops me. “I want to unwrap you myself,” he says.

I lie on my back, and he hovers over me, connecting our eyes. I see desire there, yes, but concern, too.

“Drake, I’m okay,” I tell him, grabbing his hand and kissing it.

“You sure?” His dark brows form a frown. “The drawing—”

“It took me off guard.” I pull his hand into the neck of my robe, passing his palm over my nipple until it buds beneath his fingers. “But now I want you.”

He hesitates, searching my face and eyes before nodding. Our eyes meet, and beneath the desire filling his stare, a question lingers.

“Drake.” I place his hand on my stomach. “I’m fine.”

He bends to kiss my stomach, the underside of my breast. That restlessness needs attention, try to disturb my desire, but before I can allow myself to be distracted, the lights in the bedroom dim and my husband’s hands are on me. Drake opens the robe as if it’s a gift.

“Fuck baby, you’re so gorgeous.”

He lies down to spoon me, brushes my hair aside, and kisses my nape.

“You okay?” he asks. I know Drake well enough to hear the restraint he’s exercising. The restlessness caught him too, and in days like this, he needs wild, unbridled fucking, but he doesn’t want to hurt the twins or me. As many times as I reassure him, it’s hard for him to believe it’s okay to be as rough with me as we love sometimes.

“Drake, please, fuck me hard. I need it as much as you do.”

“Lexie,” he rasps, dropping his forehead against my hair. “Don’t ask. . .I can’t. . .the way I feel right now . . . I wish you knew what you do to me.”

“Show me.”

And he does; he takes me hard and rough. He fucks me into oblivion, until there’s nothing else but him and me. I’ve needed this desperately, craved the feeling that comes when we make love, when we’re like this, when we have this together, when he’s inside me.

“Fuck, Lex,” he growls. “I love you.”

Tears fill my eyes. The tears I wouldn’t allow myself earlier because Tom was years ago and I should be over it. I could hide that from myself, but I can’t hide anything from him. The tears run down my face, and they aren’t all grief or sorrow. They’re tears of gratitude for my little squirt sleeping down the hall. Tears of hope for the twins growing inside of me. Tears of happiness for the love of a man like Drake.

“God, Drake,” I sob. “I love you, I love you.”

Hours later, we lay together side to side, exhausted. All my restlessness gone, forgotten.

“Wow,” he says.

“Wow, I repeat. You have a magical dick.”

We both laugh at that, and he tickles me, making me wriggle in his arms. Suddenly, we both go still, feeling the movement in my belly at the same time. Like tiny synchronized swimmers, one of my boys moves on my left and the other on the right.

“Shit.” Drake’s gaze meets mine. “Both of them are moving. That’s. . .that’s amazing, Lex.”

“It is. I wanted you to feel that so badly. I feel them do that all the time, but I wanted . . . I’m so happy . . .” I stop, emotionally exhausted.

“Our life,” I say suddenly, toying with the hair on his chest.

“What about it?” he asks, kissing the top of my head.

I reach up to touch the flecks of gray in his stubble. “I’m so glad we met when we were young. That we will grow old together. That I’ll have a life with you. Despite all the years we spent apart. We lost so much, but now we have this life, our marriage, our kids.”

He tenderly rubs my belly. “These kids, all worth the wait. And no matter what comes, we’ll face it together.” I turn around, he pulls me tightly against his chest, and we fall asleep together.

#axwalker writes #tw mention of grief #tw mention death child #n*sfw

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purityoflust · 3 years ago

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Hii can i have a creepypasta matchup?

I am Brazilian (so will have so bad english)

I'm Aries,rise in cancer

Im a girl and bi

appearance:

I have blonde medium hair,with hangs,i have light brown eyes i have pale skin,i wear glasses

I always wear black(with skirt ❤️,here is very hot i refuse to wear pants)

Im not to skinny(idk how my body look like so much)i have medium thighs,A slim waist, medium breasts (I consider it small), and i very proud of that i have a big butt (thank you genetic 😘)

Likes:

Witchcraft,games,music,cats, country's,horror movies,i listen to Rock/eletronic/pop history,bats,snakes, dance (i do belly dance too),pandas,flowers,cold weather (i wish it could snow here), Carnaval (a Holiday here),festa junina(a holiday too)rain,moon,yake care of myself,true crime,learn about psychopath's minds,florests,medicine,mental too

*Im scared of dogs,i was attached by dog's many times so yeah i don't deal with them

Deslikes:

Imsects,beach(rivers,lakes,sun,hot weather,liars,sushi, screams,loud sound,children basically 💀,im scared of needles(kinda ironic bcs i have a tattoo 💀)

Personality:

I make jokes about my traumas for me is hilarious (thats my way to deal with them) but i very curious and sometimes talkative,it depends how i woke up in the day(if i woke up good or bad), when i made a friend and it becomes my best friend i am kinda possessive (thats a problem i already having help with that)

I'm very jealous of everything, friends and even things

That's why I've never had a good or even serious relationship. I understand, even because no one has the patience to be with someone who is very jealous

I don't fell in love easily and i not to sensitive (training hold tears since my 11 y.o, that's a bad thing bcs nowadays i cant cry)I am ambivert,i have anxiety(i getting help with that too)

In a relationship:

I want someone that gives me attention and understand why i am so jealous(i know its hard) and deal with my mood swings,im very clingy so (poor person)i don't fell in love so easily so it will be hard,i am very shy too,but sometimes i like to flirt with people

I think is that

Bye🫂

Your matchup is: Clockwork!

GENERAL:

Hi Sugarplumb! Sorry I took so long, I was so busy. Didn't take too long to decide this match, though. I write each of the Creepypastas in my own way and had to build up the rest of the personalities, too.

YOU TWO AS A COUPLE:

Honestly, she isn't the biggest fan of witch-craft, but she enjoys watching you learn or practice it - and she helps any way she can if she needs to.

She enjoys music and LOVES rocking out with you to Rock and Pop. Dancing, too!

You like flowers, yeah? She's always getting you roses, or sunflowers - anything you prefer.

She isn't too big on the learning thing, but she likes learning about mental health. True crime isn't her big go-to since, well...she IS a murderer and she's basically family to a whole group of them. She knows how shit works.

She will beat up anyone who lies to you.

She doesn't understand how you don't like the sound of screaming, but she tries her best not to allow you to hear things such as that.

She makes sure to keep needles away from you at all costs.

Constantly compliments you and showers you with hugs and kisses.

She understands your issues and she's supportive.

She can get jealous too, and pretty bitchy, so she relates!

She's there for you 24/7.

Clockwork, AKA Natalie, makes tons of jokes as well.

Shit like "I'd rather chop off my clit and eat it than deal with this bullshit."

She also jokes about her own trauma.

She's fine with you being possessive, honestly - there's just a limit.

She will give you as much attention as she possibly can.

She's patient and softer with you, while being out there and hot-headed with others.

She's always there to help keep you relaxed when you have an anxiety attack or if you have corrupting thoughts.

Loves dressing up for you. And she loves your clothing style.

Overall a great gf.

So sorry this was so short, I'm a bit occupied and I have a few more requests to get done. BUT, I hope you like it nonetheless!

#MATCHUPS #CREEPYPASTA MATCHUP #CLOCKWORK X READER #CLOCKWORK X YOU #CLOCKWORK X FEMALE READER #CLOCKWORK X Y/N #CREEPYPASTA #CREEPYPASTA X READER

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pynkhues · 4 years ago

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I hope you post your c & c Christmas fic! I am having a horrible Christmas alone bc of covid 19 and could use a little cheering up.

I’m so sorry you had a horrible Christmas alone, anon! And I know this is a few days late and a few dollars short, but I hope the first scene (and it’s a doozy of a scene at 3k words haha) from it helps?

I’m trying to finish the fic now, so fingers crossed I have it all up by tomorrow. It’s ended up being really long, haha, so hopefully people still want a monster Christmas fic four days after Christmas! 😊

“No.”

And damn, if Rio doesn’t pop an eyebrow at that.

“No?”

The question is enough to make Jane’s bottom lip wobble as she rocks in her galoshes, the sound of her wet socks squelching inside them making somethin’ in Rio’s head twitch, because shit – he’d tried to get her out of them at the back door. Tried to pick her up and cart her upstairs to the tub, ready to wash the snow Kenny had shoved down the back of her parka off, but she hadn’t wanted that neither. Had been content to dart beneath his arm the second he’d lugged Marcus up with his other; even more content to leave a trail of sludgy footprints behind her through the kitchen like she wanted him to follow, and he hadn’t exactly.

Or y’know, he had until she’d dashed past him again and he’d gotten a hand into the hood of her jacket.

“So you don’t want to get in there with him, huh?” Rio asks now, jerking his head back to where Marcus is already sprawled out in the tub, fuckin’ blissed out, his skinny arms slung over the rim and his body submerged in the steamy, sudsy water ‘til he looks like some eight-year-old mafia don. It’d make Rio grin – does – until he meets Jane’s look again, her bottom lip still wobbling as she furiously shakes her head, her rabbit beanie slipping down her icy wet hair.

Rio frowns.

“You ain’t cold?”

And shit, he knows she is.

Knows it because the second he’d pulled up to Glenvale Elementary School today to pick ‘em up, she’d been cold. A last-day-of-school snowball fight havin’ ballooned out until the faculty were left frantically trying to dry off forty shivering kids, and whatever, Rio had thought. It was good for them. Work hard, play hard gotta start somewhere, and he’d plucked Jane and Marcus’ tooth-chattering selves out of the fray and blast the car heaters the whole way home, but the second they’d tumbled out of the car, Kenny had thrown a snowball himself, and a fresh fight had begun.

And okay, maybe he should’ve stopped it sooner than he did, but he had Mick on call and the last drops to organise before the holidays, because apparently people buyin’ up supplies of prescription drugs as gifts for sick family members is a straight up thing (and call Rio Father Christmas, because damn if he ain’t deliverin’ on the fuckin’ miracle. Ain’t even price gouging, although that’s more because Elizabeth had turned a particular shade of purple at the prospect and he knew he’d never hear the end of it if he’d bloated prices, but - - damn, it would’ve put at least two of the kids through college.)

Point is, maybe he meant to pull ‘em in after half an hour, but by the time he finally got back outside it’d been close to two full hours and the kids were all red-nosed and tremblin’, their clothes soaked through, the evening just starting to yawn above them to swallow the last of the light whole.

“No,” Jane repeats now, sullen this time, and Rio feels his nostrils flare in irritation as he stares back down at her. At least the room is warm enough, he thinks, watching the steam curl the ends of her wet hair, the ebb of the heating warping the air as it pours from the floor vents. The kids’ bathroom is one of the rooms they’ve refit over the last year – a pet project of Elizabeth’s that Rio had found himself involved in, mostly because he almost got as much of a thrill out of inventing organisational systems as she did. The big, low white tub set back against the wall with polka dotted wallpaper above it, gold light fittings and a long, deep blue vanity that had as much storage as they could ever need. Still – it didn’t stop one of Emma’s bikini’d Barbie’s and a fuckin’ deluge of rubber sea animals from taking up space around the room.

“I’m a grown up,” Jane adds, sniffing wetly, pulling his attention back, and Rio’s second eyebrow raises to meet his first. “Grown ups don’t have baths with boys.”

“Om has baths with daddy,” Marcus says helpfully from the tub, and Rio gestures back at him, taking in the way Jane just huffs out a breath and stomps her little foot against the white honeycomb tiles and it figures, Rio thinks, that one of Elizabeth’s kids would end up with the fuckin’ stubborn powerball in that genetic lottery.

Figures it’d be Jane too.

“That’s different, they have to share everything because they’re a mommy and an od.”

At least the others ain’t this stubborn, he reminds himself, scrubbing a hand back over his head. At least he’d been able to pile ‘em up with towels and sweats and direct them to the downstairs bathroom while he handled Jane and Marcus, but then again - -

He trains his ears to hear ‘em – Emma and Danny’s giggles sounding through the floor beneath his feet, loud even over the downpour of the shower, and then:

The flush of a toilet.

Kenny screams.

Right.

Lotta other balls in that genetic lottery too though, huh?

He exhales sharply.

“A’ight,” he says, looking back down at Jane’s pink little face. “You don’t gotta share a bath since you’re all grown, but you can’t stay in your wet clothes.”

And it’s weird then – the look that Jane levels him with. Somethin’ too hard in the set to her mouth and too open in her wide green eyes, and Rio’s frown deepens, brow furrowing, because there’s somethin’ in that look that tells him this ain’t entirely just about stubbornness, when suddenly Marcus chimes in from the tub.

“Soup.”

And shit, no, they’re havin’ pizza for dinner – Rio’s already ordered it – but before he can say as much, Jane’s nose is wrinkling up and she’s rolling those too wide eyes and that hard set to her mouth is softening, and huh, Rio thinks. They ain’t talking about dinner either.

“Soup doesn’t have bubbles, Marcus.”

“This one does!” he tells her easily, and Rio turns to watch his son glide his hands through the bathwater, catching soapsuds, a too-innocent grin on his face. “It’s an alien soup. Like - - like from Neptune. I got abducted! I’m gonna get eaten! Help me, Officer Janey!!”

With that, he slides down into the water, flails his skinny legs up above the surface, fake yelling, and Rio huffs, exasperated as water spills over the top of the tub, but can’t quite hide the twitch at his lips when he sees Jane’s look tear – the urge to play too already warring on her face as she steps closer.

“No, Marcus! We can play later, not - - ”

“Help!! Hel - - blergh.”

Marcus splutters around a mouthful of soapsuds, and Rio does roll his eyes this time, grabbing a washcloth from the sink to wipe his son’s face.

“You gonna help him, Officer Janey?” he asks, glancing back from Marcus and they can all see Jane’s resolve weakening. She shifts her weight, puffs out her cheeks, and then, just like that, she caves.

“Okay, Sir Marcus, I’ll get you home for Christmas.”

And thank fuck for that, Rio thinks, keeping his expression carefully in check as Marcus grins in delight, squirming back up the side of the tub to make room for her. It only takes a minute for her to peel off her jacket, leaking freezing water everywhere in the process, and Rio edges forwards, starting to help her when his cell phone buzzes in the back pocket of his jeans. He pulls it out, checks the number, and hooks it under his ear as he crouches down beside Jane.

“’ey,” he says, and immediately he’s met with a wave of sound from the chaos of the mall – the tinny, tinkling melodies of Christmas songs and the thrum of shoppers, the distant sounds of static announcements and the too-close bray of Annie’s laugh, but it’s Elizabeth who replies, her voice clear and clean as a bell.

“Hi. Did we decide on the flatware set for your sister in the end? They’ve got one on sale here at this cute little kitchen place, and - - ”

Rio sighs, annoyance sparking at the fraying edges of his patience. He lifts up Jane’s leg as she dangles herself over the edge of the tub, pulling off one of her galoshes, and then the other, cringing when her soaked pink socks settle back on the floor, leaving a smear of dirty water on the tiles.

“We decided no, mami,” he tells Elizabeth over the line, pulling off Jane’s socks in one rough motion as Jane makes a grab for a rubber fish. “We already got her the - - ”

“Towels, I know, but she didn’t have enough forks for us when we were there last week, and if that’s going to be a regular thing now, I really think we should get her the extra flatware set.”

And shit, Rio thinks, moving to kneel so he can peel off Jane’s sopping wet sweater and shirt as she kicks off her jeans and undies, it figures.

It figures because Elizabeth’s been pressed about Carmen’s place since Carmen and Matt finally separated back in August, splittin’ up their assets and sellin’ the house. It had been a long time comin’, and Rio couldn’t say he wasn’t pleased about it – after all, him and Carmen hadn’t always seen eye-to-eye, but shit, she was his sister and she was a boss bitch, and Matt had always been the sort of belly crawlin’ fuck who’d soured at any woman who was more of one than him.

Anyway, it didn’t take all that much to figure out that Elizabeth was watchin’ Carmen’s marriage dissolve and her new life as a single mom with the sort of projecting fixation that - - shit - - just dredged up baggage.

Still, it was kind of fuckin’ funny too to watch Elizabeth try to help Carmen in the way she wouldn’t let anyone do for her back when she finally called it with her own dumbass ex.

“Yeah, those towels weren’t cheap,” Rio says into the phone, standing up and grabbing Jane underneath her icy arms to swing her into the hot water beside Marcus, letting her eyes slip shut briefly when Jane kicks a fresh wave of hot water onto the floor of the bathroom.

“Neither is cooking dinner for seven extra people.”

Grabbing his cell properly now that Jane’s in the tub, Rio drops his free arm down, grabbing Jane and Marcus’ wet clothes off the floor and striding out of the room, down the stairs and beelining for the laundry. He grins, pleased, when he sees Emma’s already put her own snow clothes in the washing machine, even if she’s managed to spill washing powder all over the floor in the process of it.

“One thing,” he sing-songs over the bustle of the mall behind Elizabeth’s voice. “Everyone’s gettin’ one thing. If you want to get Carmen the flatware set, that’s two things.”

And he can’t even see her, but he can feel Elizabeth bristle down the line.

“I might not be as quick with the books as you, but I do know basic math, thank you.”

Which - - shit, not what he meant. He grabs a rag out of the laundry cabinet, dropping down to wipe up the powder.

“Nah, you ain’t hearin’ me. I know you, Elizabeth. You get Carmen two things, you gettin’ everyone two things – Aida, my mom, your sister, your friend – we ain’t doin’ that this year. We decided that.”

Vaguely he can hear her sister laugh over the line again, and then Ruby say:

What about…

“No, I think she has one of those already,” Elizabeth replies, and Rio sighs, tossing the rag into the washing machine with the kids’ clothes. Vaguely, he can hear footsteps down the hall behind him, Jane and Marcus still playing in the tub, the shower a few rooms up, and he still has some business calls to make tonight, and damn, weren’t they going to figure out which presents were from Santa and which were from them later too? He checks his watch and frowns.

“Elizabeth, what time you comin’ home?”

“Soon,” she tells him quickly, then, to one of the others: “No, that’s too much.”

Suddenly, a cold little hand grabs his wrist, and Rio glances down to see Emma clutching at it, already decked out in her pink fleecy sweats and rainbow fuzzy unicorn slippers, which’d be fine if her hair wasn’t hanging wet, soaking into the back of her dressing gown. He frowns, pushes his cell between his shoulder and head again to pull a hair elastic off his wrist and tie her hair back up off her neck.

“Od, can we watch Frozen tonight?”

And Rio briefly blanches at that, but grunts in affirmation, letting her go only for Emma to come back and cling to his hand again, splaying his fingers so she can fit her own between his. He blinks down at her curiously, picking up his cell again with his other hand, because damn, it ain’t like she’s never held his hand before – she’s always been a touchy kid – but he figured she’d be out of sight the second he told her she could put Frozen on. Like she’s seen the look on his face, she squeezes his hand and sidles closer until she’s practically on top of his leg, and so Rio crouches down instead, lugging her up and carrying her out of the laundry and over to the living room, letting her rest her head on his shoulder as she clings to his side.

“Annie, stop it,” Elizabeth says, annoyance growing in her tone, and Rio rolls his eyes, depositing Emma on the couch, and okay, maybe the kid’s just tired, he thinks, watching as she nestles back in the cushions, her big blue eyes only half-lidded.

He flicks on the TV while Elizabeth babbles to Annie and Ruby in his ear, like she’s half-forgotten to hang-up, and he’s about to do it himself instead when he hears the name Dean pop outta Annie’s mouth, which - -

Fuck that.

His jaw tightens, loosens, tightens again.

“Thought we weren’t doin’ all of that this year,” he hums, tryin’ to keep his voice light as he loads up Frozen on Disney+ and grabs one of the blankets to toss over Emma, because wasn’t that dumbass ex of hers off in Nevada this year with his new girl’s family?

“What?”

And sure, play dumb, baby, Rio thinks, striding out of the room as Emma wriggles down in the blanket. He heads back towards the corridor, hearing Jane squeal somewhere upstairs and Marcus laugh as he moves towards the downstairs bathroom.

“Thought we had the place and everyone in it to ourselves.”

“We do,” she tells him quickly, and he can hear her moving herself, walkin’ maybe – her sister’s voice getting further away.

“We ain’t changin’ plans.”

Because fuck – they’re a week out from Christmas, and they had shit on lock this year. Had decided on that together too after the whole mess of last year with Elizabeth having to do the six hour round trip to take the kids to South Haven after Dean’s car had broken down (fuckin’ allegedly, Rio thinks with a snort, because he could smell that bullshit a mile away).

“The plan isn’t changing,” she promises, raising her voice a little to be heard over the roaring opening chords of Last Christmas. “We’re still hosting everyone, and the kids are staying with us, it’s just - - something’s just come up which is - - I mean. It’s really not anything you need to worry about. I’ll tell you when I get home.”

Exhaling harshly, Rio scrubs a hand back over his head again, and shit – if this means Dean’s comin’ again - -

He pauses, distracted suddenly by the sight of Danny bouncing from foot-to-foot outside the bathroom, shaking with cold in his parka and beanie, melted snow dripping from his hair, waiting still for his turn in the bathroom. With a grunt of irritation, Rio strides up the hall, banging heavily on the door only to hear a strained in a minute from Kenny through the crack, and Jesus, Rio thinks.

Teenagers.

He covers the mouthpiece of the phone, glancing down at Danny who just shifts his weight again, snow-pale except for his bright red nose as he stares up at him.

“Use our bathroom,” he tells him, jerking his head upstairs towards his and Elizabeth’s en suite and Danny blinks owlishly back at him, shivering still, and Rio jerks his head in instruction again because it’d be just his luck to have to cart the kid to hospital for hypothermia again.

“Is everything okay there?” Elizabeth asks as someone says is this all today, ma’am?

“Fine,” Rio says shortly, and then, just to annoy her: “I’ll tell you when you get home, yeah?”

And it works, if her huff is anything to go by, and then when he hears cash or card? his lip curls.

“Elizabeth, don’t get the flatware set.”

The last thing he hears before she hangs up is the ring of the cash register.

#there's a lot going on it which you can probably tell from this excerpt haha #it ended up being a bit plot heavy #and a bit angsty #but still v christmas-y #and of course with a nice big hea #the center and circumference #fic asks #my fic #welcome to my ama #Anonymous

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