#it's the way she kind of loses her balance and steps back to catch herself because of her overwhelming joy that has me on the floor | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cupcakeeees · 7 days ago

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(1) “The Line Between Us” -

When The Clock Strikes Three

pairing: au!lando norris x reader

summary: While he navigates champagne-soaked conversations and late-night rides with his equally privileged friends, she’s left cleaning up the glittering remnants of a world she can only observe from the sidelines.

The chandelier’s light reflected across the room, bathing the auction hall in a golden hue.

It was the kind of event Lando had grown up attending - lavish, full of tailored suits and glittering gowns, where champagne flowed freely, and the clink of crystal glasses formed a rhythm beneath the hum of meaningless conversations.

He sat at a table near the center, surrounded by his parents, their friends, and a group of his own. It was always the same faces, the same voices.

Tonight’s cause? Something about restoring historical sites in Italy. Worthy, sure, but not something anyone here would think about once they left.

“Lando,” one of his friends, Max, leaned over, swirling his wine lazily. “How much do you think the Hogarth will go for?”

Lando shrugged, his eyes scanning the room. “Does it matter? Whoever buys it probably won’t even hang it themselves.”

Max snorted. “Right. It’s all about the flex.”

Lando forced a laugh, though his attention wavered. He was tired of this. The predictable excess, the hollow competition of who could outbid who - this definitely wasn’t his idea of fun.

Across the room, Lennon weaved between tables, balancing a tray laden with glasses of champagne.

She’d lost count of how many times she’d done this tonight. Her feet screamed in protest, and the ache in her lower back made her want to scream herself. But she didn’t have the luxury.

She hated nights like these. It wasn’t even the work - it was the people.

The way they looked through her, as if she wasn’t worth the space she occupied. As if her presence were an inconvenience. But the pay was good, and she couldn’t afford to lose this job.

Taking a deep breath, she approached the next table - his table.

“Champagne?” she asked, her voice steady, her expression neutral.

Lando glanced up from his glass, his gaze landing on her.

No glittering gown, no practiced smile. Just quiet exhaustion etched into her features, like she was holding the weight of the world on her shoulders.

“Yeah, sure,” Max interrupted before Lando could respond, reaching for a glass with a smirk.

Lennon moved to set it down when the tray tipped, just slightly, and a single glass toppled.

It wasn’t much - a splash of champagne across the pristine white tablecloth. Barely anything at all.

But to Max, it was everything.

“Seriously?” he said, his voice loud enough to draw attention from nearby tables. He recoiled as if she’d spilled it on him. “You can’t even hold a tray properly?”

Lennon’s face flushed, her heart hammering. She scrambled to set the tray down, grabbing a napkin to dab at the spill. “I’m so sorry-“

“Sorry doesn’t fix this, does it?,” Max shot back, leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated huff. “What, did they hire you off the street?”

Lennon froze. She wanted to say something - wanted to defend herself -but the words caught in her throat.

Lando shifted in his chair, his jaw tightening. “Max, that’s enough. It didn’t even touch you!”

Max blinked, before raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Just saying.”

Lando turned his attention to Lennon. Her eyes met his for a fraction of a second, wide with embarrassment, before she dropped them back to the table.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered again, grabbing the empty glass and the tray.

“It’s fine,” Lando said, his voice softer now. “Really.”

She hesitated, unsure whether to believe him, before nodding and stepping away.

Later, as Lennon stood near the entrance, catching her breath, she heard a voice behind her.

“Hey.”

She turned, startled. It was him.

Lando stood there, hands in his pockets, looking every bit the polished son of wealth and privilege. But his expression wasn’t condescending. If anything, he seemed.. apologetic.

“I just wanted to say sorry about my friend,” he said, shifting awkwardly. “He can be a bit of an ass.”

“A bit?” Lennon quipped before she could stop herself.

Lando blinked, then chuckled - a real laugh, not the rehearsed kind she’d heard all night. “Okay, more than a bit.”

She didn’t smile. Not really. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

His brow furrowed. “You shouldn’t have to be.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that, so she didn’t. Instead, she adjusted the tray in her hand. “I should get back.”

“Right,” he said, stepping aside. But as she passed him, he added, “Good luck for the rest of the night, Lennon.”

She paused, glancing over her shoulder. “How did you-?”

He raised his hands in surrender, pointing to the tag attached to her uniform. “I’m Lando.”

“I know,” she said simply, before disappearing back into the kitchen.

The last guests had left the auction, their laughter and chatter lingering like a ghost in the now-empty venue.

Lennon was on her knees, scrubbing a stubborn wine stain from the pristine marble floor. Her uniform clung to her skin, damp from the long hours, and her fingers ached from the repetitive motions.

The event manager barked out a few more instructions, and Lennon bit her tongue to keep from snapping. One more hour, she told herself. Just one more hour, and then she could leave.

Meanwhile, Lando was still out, lounging on a leather sofa in the corner of a private lounge with Max and the rest of their group.

Drinks flowed freely, and laughter echoed off the high ceilings. The auction had been tedious, but the afterparty was always where the fun began.

A model leaned against the armrest beside him, her laughter too sweet, her perfume too strong. Lando’s mind wandered, her words blurring into the background noise.

He glanced at Max, who was in the middle of some elaborate story, his hands moving animatedly.

“Earth to Lando,” Max said, throwing a peanut at him.

“What?” Lando asked, blinking back into the moment.

“You’re zoning out. Thinking about someone?” Max teased, earning a ripple of laughter from the group.

“No,” Lando said smoothly, leaning back with a smirk.

Lennon stepped out into the biting cold, pulling her jacket tighter around her as she hurried to the bus stop. The streets were mostly empty, the occasional car passing by as the city began to wind down.

She slumped onto the cold bench, her entire body aching from the long shift. The bus arrived, and she climbed aboard, grateful for the warmth even if the seat springs dug into her side.

The silence was soothing, and she let herself close her eyes, though she couldn’t stop her thoughts from racing. The humiliation at the auction replayed in her mind, over and over.

At the same time, Lando slid into the driver’s seat of his car - a sleek, black McLaren. He revved the engine and pulled out of the lounge’s private car park, the city lights reflecting off the polished hood.

The roads were quiet, the occasional red light slowing him down.

His phone buzzed on the passenger seat, another message from Max - “Getting lucky tonight, you shouldn’t have left..”

Lando smirked but didn’t reply. Instead, he turned on the radio, letting the low hum of music fill the car as he drove home.

Lennon finally made it back to her flat, shuffling through the door with half-lidded eyes. The warmth of the small space hit her, and she exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

She set her bag on the counter and kicked off her shoes, her body too tired to do much else. The money from tonight’s shift would help her make rent, but just barely.

Meanwhile, Lando pulled into the driveway of his family’s estate, the gates opening smoothly as the car approached. He parked, stepping out into the crisp air and heading inside.

The house was dark and quiet, save for the faint ticking of the clock in the hallway.

In his room, Lando peeled off his jacket and tossed it onto the chair by the window. He loosened his tie, glancing out at the city skyline, the lights twinkling like stars.

Lennon collapsed onto her worn-out sofa, pulling a blanket over herself. The soft hum of the radiator was the only sound in her tiny flat. She closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep.

In their separate worlds, both of them lay awake, staring at ceilings they couldn’t escape from, each lost in their own thoughts.

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oliolioxenfreewrites · 16 days ago

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osi’s midnight masquerade; a theatre troupe of queer vampires who play by their own rules. Would you be able to tell us a bit more about the vampires who make up this theatre troupe? 👀

I couldn't begin to understand the lives of these salacious vamps, so, I'll let Osi provide clarity ;)

a mini wip intro for chirstmas?? i think yes

WIP INTRO - Osi's Midnight Masquerade (narrated by Osirys himself)

Being a vampire isn’t a blessing. Let’s start there. It’s not the romanticized eternal youth nonsense you read about in books or see on glossy screens. It’s not the allure of satin sheets or the thrill of moonlit hunts. It’s a tightrope walk, every step one miscalculation away from falling into something dark, sharp, and impossible to climb out of. I would know—I’ve been walking that line for centuries.

To most, we’re the fantasies they want to believe in: seductive silhouettes cutting through smoke and shadows, predators with a touch of tragedy. People want us to be beautiful and dangerous, the ultimate contradiction. They want the dream of immortality wrapped in silk and sharpened by fangs. And we let them believe it. We have to. The truth? The truth is too messy, too raw for their imaginations to handle. Without connection—without others to keep us tethered—we lose ourselves. The hunger takes over. The walls of who we are collapse. That’s why I built the Masquerade in the late 70s. Not just for the performances or the power, but for the people. For the family.

And what a family it is. Deeply flawed, creative, brilliant, infuriating—but mine. Each of them brings their chaos, their hunger, their fight. Every single one of them keeps me grounded in ways I can’t always explain.

Milo is the heartbeat of the Masquerade, the one who keeps us moving even when everything else threatens to fall apart. Her music isn’t just accompaniment—it’s a command, shaping the energy of every performance, holding the audience in her grip. She doesn’t simply compose; she controls, her hands always in motion, her mind consistently several tempos ahead. Small-framed, but impossible to miss, Milo has a presence that feels like gravity, the kind that steadies the room while reminding everyone who’s really in charge.

Her sharp, hazel eyes don’t miss a thing, and her voice—measured but biting when necessary—can cut through the noise like a conductor silencing an unruly orchestra. She thrives on precision, on keeping chaos at bay, but she’s just as willing to unleash it if she thinks we’ve earned it. Milo doesn’t deal in softness, but when you’re spinning out, she’s the one who holds you steady, unyielding and certain, even if she’ll never admit that’s what she’s doing.

Still, Milo isn’t easy to know. For all her command, she keeps most of herself locked away behind a wall of sharp wit and sharper boundaries. You’ll catch glimpses sometimes—in the way her fingers drift over the piano keys during a rare moment alone, or in the weight of her gaze when she thinks no one’s looking. But the second she realizes you’ve noticed, she shuts it down, turning back into the unflinching architect of the Masquerade’s rhythm.

Vinscint is her constant, the foundation beneath her intensity. Tall, broad, and deliberate, he moves as if he's never rushed a day in his life. His calmness steadies the surrounding storm, and his strength quietly holds the Masquerade together when everything else feels like it’s falling apart. They create a balance—Milo’s sharp drive is softened by Vinscint’s patience, while the weight of his silence is anchored by her commanding presence.

Together, they’re the reason we’ve even lasted this long, the ones we all look to even when we won’t admit it. Milo keeps the rhythm, Vinscint keeps the ground beneath our feet, and between the two of them, we manage to survive.

René? René is my star, the one who steps into the spotlight and makes you forget the world existed before he arrived. He doesn’t just perform—he commands. When René moves, it’s with a grace that doesn’t feel learned, as though the stage itself bends to accommodate him. His voice has a richness that fills every corner with the theater, every word an invitation laced with danger, every glance a challenge you know you’ll lose but can’t help but accept.

His presence is magnetic and intoxicating in a way that feels unfair, like the universe cheated by putting that much beauty, talent, and raw hunger into one person. He burns so brightly it’s a miracle he hasn’t engulfed himself entirely, and yet there’s always the sense that he might. He leans into it though, weaponizing the tension, the risk, and the inevitability of his self-destruction. He thrives on it, and the audience does too. They adore him, worship him even, and René takes that adoration like it’s owed. Because to him, it is.

Tof is something else entirely. He doesn’t just stir up chaos; he is chaos, wearing it like a tailored suit, all sharp smiles and sharper edges. He steps onto the stage with a kind of careless confidence, like he owns it—and, in a way, he does. Rules mean nothing to Tof. He doesn’t just break them; he obliterates them, scattering the pieces for everyone else to trip over while he watches from the sidelines with a grin that could cut glass. He likes to see how far someone is pushed before they snap, and when they do, he’s there, ready to offer a smirk or a sharp quip that makes you wonder if he planned the whole thing.

But here’s the thing about Tof: he’s not as reckless as he wants you to think. Beneath all that chaos, there’s a mind that’s always working, always calculating. Every sharp word, every sly grin, every rule he shatters—it’s all deliberate. He’s not just ahead of the game; he’s the one running it, even when it looks like he’s spiraling out of control. That’s his brilliance. He’ll make you think he’s falling apart, but the truth is, he’s the one pulling the strings.

Now, of course, Tof does have one glaring flaw—or maybe it’s just part of his charm. He can’t keep his dick in his pants. It’s not just the sex, though that’s certainly part of it. For Tof, it’s about the game, the thrill of pursuit, the power of knowing he can have anyone he wants—mortal or immortal. It’s the tension, the chase, the way seduction gives him the upper hand before the other person even realizes they’re playing.

Moving on to Xaviyr, my baby. My soft spot. My reminder of what it was like to feel alive before the hunger sank its teeth into me. Xaviyr is young by our standards, still carrying a kind of softness the rest of us can’t afford anymore. His face, round and open, hasn’t yet been hardened by centuries of survival, and his wide, dark eyes still hold questions instead of answers. There’s a quietness to him, a gentleness that stands in stark contrast to the sharp edges of the rest of us.

But don’t mistake that softness for weakness. Xaviyr may not burn like René or cut like Tof, but there’s a strength in his stillness that’s impossible to ignore. He draws people in without demanding their attention, makes them feel safe without ever promising safety. It’s a skill none of us could replicate even if we tried.

Still, I worry about him. Xaviyr’s softness is part of what makes him so vital to the Masquerade, but it’s also what makes him vulnerable. This world isn’t kind to people like him, and I can see the toll it’s already taking, even if he doesn’t admit it. He’s learning, though. Learning how to navigate the hunger, the power, the constant push and pull of what it means to be one of us.

Pandora, the silent watchdog of our darkest secrets, her gaze defined by the weighty burden of her knowledge. She is known for her clairvoyance, an ability that survived her transition into vampirism. Her eyes, like deep pools of wisdom, perceive the fragile fissures in our lives long before they expand, a subtle warning etched in her expression. She is the guardian who steps in when we teeter on the edge of self-destruction, gently guiding us back from the precipice when our blindness threatens to consume us.

And last, but certainly not least, there’s me. Osirys. Osi to those who’ve earned it. I’m the one who built all this, the one who keeps it standing when everything else threatens to fall apart. I’m not the star—that’s René. I’m not the heart—that’s Milo. I’m the centerpiece, the one who holds the pieces together even when they don’t want to fit.

I’m not proud of everything I’ve done to keep the Masquerade alive, but I don’t regret it either. Regret is a privilege unbeknownst to turn off the century’s vampires like myself. The stage is what matters. Our family is what matters. And as long as I’m here, as long as the lights still burn and the audience still comes, I’ll make sure the Masquerade survives.

When we come together, we create something special that’s bigger than just each of us alone. On stage, we become unstoppable. The crowd feeds us their amazement, their curiosity, and their willingness to be swept away, and we soak it all in. That’s the real desire—not just our good looks or charm, but the presence we bring. It’s about being able to look someone in the eye and make them feel truly seen, wanted, and alive. That’s what makes us what they call, 'seductive.' Once they experience that connection, they won't want to let it go.

Neither do we.

That’s what the Masquerade is. A lifeline. A purpose. It’s what keeps not just me, but all of us from falling apart; no matter how sharp the line my children and I walk. If holding on to the spotlight makes me a monster, so be it. I’ve learned to live with that. Because at the end of the night, when the audience is gone and the lights fade, I’m still here. And that has to count for something.

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mjonthetrack · 9 days ago

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Grown Up 2

“The bigger one is actually fine af,” Misha, a

costume artist spoke loudly as her and Camille

were wrapping up their work for the day. Camille

furrowed her brows looking at the screen that

showed what at home audiences saw being

taped live,”Pooh?” Misha laughed at that,” girl

my bad I didn’t know he was spoken for.”

Camille didn’t get the chance to respond as

the woman had since left, but her attention

went to the man on the screen, who had

definitely long since replaced the chubby guy

with way less tattoos as the one being recorded. Camille shook her head after catching herself

checking out his tattoos, one of the key features

that made people attractive to her. But that

was Pooh Bear he wasn’t for her, he was -

well he was damn attractive she’d admit now

but the thought made her quickly shudder

leaving her studio space. The woman

wandered down the hall stopping to knock on

the locker room door but hearing nothing she

stepped in to place a hair care regimen to take

home as Sami requested. Finishing up, she

turned to leave when she collided into a damp

chest the force causing her to lose her balance.

A pair of strong arms grasped her small waist

tugging her close to prevent her from falling,”

be careful big mamas.” Her cheeks heated

slightly embarrassed seeing a towel wrapped

around a muscular build, her eyes traveled up a

tattooed chest then to a pair of familiar eyes,” oh

it’s you Sefa, I was just dropping off some things

Sami requested.” The man froze at his

coworker's name,” didnt think you fucked with

white boys,” his words came bluntly catching

her off guard. Waving her hands defensively,”

although Sami is incredibly kind I just had a hair

care I made for his sore scalp, he’s not my type.”

Sefa hadn’t let go of her,” then what is your

type?” Camille swallowed at the proximity,

thanking her lucky stars when her phone went

off. Picking it up she wiggled out of his

embrace,”Yes girl I’m on my way sorry I got

caught up.” Her eyes trailed to his but she

whispered a hurried bye and left him to his

thoughts. “ You are a damn life saver,” Trin said hugging

the woman as she appeared at their home.

Jimmy hugged the woman,” thank you Mimi,

our sitter got sick and this was our only time

off to celebrate our anniversary.” Trinity smiles

leaving a list of reminders and numbers,”

seriously thank you bae, the boys are upstairs

playing their switches, they are in bed by nine.”

Finally being able to chime in Camille opened

the door for the couple,” no worries love birds

go have fun and let Aunty handle this.” She

waved as their personal driver sped off, closing

and locking the door she missed the black SUV

parked in the developing house across the

street down a ways. Her focus went about

helping out with feeding the three boys a

before bed snack before overseeing their

nighttime routine then ultimately tucking them

in and heading downstairs. The woman went

about cleaning up the dishes when she noted

the back door open, her first thought was the

family’s dogs must’ve let themselves in but

her heart sunk to her ass when she recalled the

dogs were upstairs with the boys. The woman

rushed to grab a butcher knife and ran upstairs

to the boys room locking them in and guarding

the door with her body. Her heartbeat was in her

ears as she tried to reach emergency services

and the couple without success she cursed

silently glad the boys were heavy sleepers. Remembering an old number she prayed up

until a sleepy laced voice answered,” who’s

this-?,” the woman cried out quietly as her

hands shook she whisper yelled,” it’s Camille I’m

babysitting for Trin and Jimmy someone’s in the

house and I’m by myself with the kids I can’t

reach anyone.” The other line fell silent then

loud thumps and cussing followed by the sound

of a car door closing filled her ears,”I’m coming,

just stay where you are I will find you.” The line

went dead and her fears rose hearing distant

thumping coming from somewhere else in the

house. She rushed over to the boys covering

them with her own body shaking in anxiety

thanking God the dogs hadn’t alerted whoever

where they were. Her breathing quickened when

the boys began to stir and she started to pray

over them as she gripped the cleaver in her

hand she stood up protectively standing over

their beds, if this was it she wasn’t going to let

them babies go without a fight. The sound of a

door being kicked in made the dogs stand up

and begin barking it was enough to make her

eyes water and spill over from tears, she

steadied herself, hearing rushed footsteps

coming up the stairs to their direction. She

began to beg God to spare them, as it all went

silent she swallowed the lump in her throat.

When the door swung open she lifted her hand

ready to strike when a strong grasp caught her

wrist. The woman began sobbing as she

begged,”please don’t touch them I’ll do

whatever you want but don’t hurt them kids.”

“Camille, what the fuck?!” Sefa barked out at

the knife she had as defense and then relief hit

seeing the boys and dogs behind her, then it

hit him, she was going to lay her life down

for his family. Sefa tugged the woman and his

nephews into his arms locking them in,” I’ve

checked nobody’s here, you’re safe, I’m here

now mamas.” The two boys groggily looked

confused at the sight of their uncle smothering

them in a hug along with their aunty who was

crying. “What’s the matter Uncle Sefa?,” the

oldest asked but the man shook his head hiding

the knife from view, he held a crying

Camille while she shook against his

chest. Moments passed before police came as

well as the rushed presences of Jey with his

wife, Joe was there along with Sami. Finally

thirty minutes passed and the happy couple

arrived to police cars all in their driveway and

they rushed in to find everyone there and

Camille sniffling answering questions with

a detective. Trinity rushed to her boys and

inspected them breathing out in relief to find

them okay as well as Jimmy who’d followed her.

The others were amazed at what Sefa had filled

them all in with their friends bravery and loyalty

to protect their family. Camille saw Trinity with

Jey she began to cry again,”I’m so sorry, I don’t

know what happened, I only came down stairs

to put away the dishes and I saw the back door

opened but I ran to the boys as fast as I could.” Camille let out a surprised gasp at the pair

enveloping her in their arms thanking her with

urgency and their own tears. “You are our hero,

you protected our sons and for that I owe you

everything,” Jimmy said rarely serious as he

was. Trinity clung to her,” I don’t know what I

did to deserve such an amazing friend but thank

you, you protected my boys with your life, I

couldn’t repay you.” Camille looked bewildered

thinking she’d failed their simple request for

her to be a fill in sitter,” so you all don’t hate

me?” “Hate you, you could’ve died protecting

our nephews,” came Joe’s deep voice making

Jey nod pulling her into a hug,” thank you

for what you did for my brother, you’re family

now.” Her wet eyes found Sami who looked

at her face that rarely wasn’t smiling,”are you

hurt?” Sefa stepped up protectively tugging her

into his arms,” she’s going to be okay.” Though

she heard his conviction Camille deflated in the

muscular arms of Sefa,” Pooh I was so scared,”

she whispered grabbing on to his shirt. Solo

froze at how weak she sounded it didn’t suit

his normal sunshine,” it’s over now, I’m here

and as long as I am here nobody will hurt you, I

promise.” The group paused at the man’s

reassurance,”I see that hadn’t changed,” Joe

whispered to Jey who chuckled looking at his

younger brother,” he’s always had it bad for her.”

Jimmy handed some drinks out, catching their

exchange he sighed,” he would be good for her,

if only she saw his heart.” Trinity took a swig of

her drink not letting her sons out of reach,” he

wears it on his sleeve so obviously, maybe this

will open her eyes a bit, she’d be just as good

for him.” Sami cheered to that as the woman

was ignorant to their words, Solo however heard

it all, he felt a pang of hurt. It wasn’t as if he

tried to hide his interest from others, it was

not a secret amongst the family he had eyes

for Camille since they met, it was just a heavy

burden to be invisible to her in that way. Solo

pressed his lips to her head, rubbing her back

enough to make her slouch against his frame.

Lifting his head back to regard her he saw she

was out for the count tired from emotional

exhaustion. Trinity walked over nodding her

head to the direction of one of the spare rooms,”

be with her.” That was all he needed to easily

swoop her into his arms like a princess that

had been saved from the ferocious dragon.

A week had come and gone from the night

at the Fatu residence, Trinity had private

security now around their property not to

mention high tech security technology thanks

to an overprotective Jonathan. The pair still

thanked the stylist every chance they had even

offering to reward her but she declined any

type of restitution for her deed. Camille

had checked into therapy more regularly the

break in reminded her of dark times in her life. Paul even had a meeting with the woman to

check on his newer employees wellbeing.

It was a smack down event with the usos

scheduled to be on but the match was

paused abruptly. Camille stood confused just

being able to make it to the family sitting area

after putting her things away for the evening

when Joe or Roman Reigns at the moment

made her eyes widen. “As many of you know

my family’s home was broken into while they

were away celebrating their anniversary,”

Camille frowned a bit, this seemed to be off

script. Joe exchanged knowing looks as now

Jimmy and Jey entered the ring alongside

Trinity with Sefa,”it wasn’t pure luck our kids

were unharmed,” Trinity announced in her

own microphone. Jimmy chimed in,” my kids

mean everything to me, had it not been for

this woman we may have lost them.” Camille

gaped at the stage her eyes were wide at

what was happening. Now Jey added,” Recently

our company hired an amazing hair and makeup

artist who’s been responsible for all of our

teams looks, shes also a dear friend to our

bloodline family.” Sefa lifted his own mic

connecting his eyes with hers as the twins held

down the ropes,” Miss Camille Martin was by

herself that night looking after my nephews so

my brother and his wife could spend time

together on their anniversary,” the crowd awed

at the mention of Jimmy and Trinity. Sefa

continued,” family means everything to us,

inside this ring and outside for everyone in

this company,” Camille was still gaping like

a fish at what was happening feeling her

cheeks flame at her name being announced.

What made her eyes wide more if even possible

was Triple H himself coming into the ring

holding a huge wrestling belt that was pink

with many gems. “Miss Martin showed

true bravery that night, defending those

children with her life ready to lay down her

own to save those kids if necessary, we

here at the WWE will pursue full legal action

against anyone who tries to harm our talent

on stage or behind it, with that being said

Camille, your actions were not unnoticed by

us all, we would like to present you with

this honorary hero belt, please join us in this

ring.” Camille tried to swallow but a lump was

in her throat, fresh tears in her eyes not

expecting this at all, it was beyond what

she could imagine. Camille stood from

her chair and made her way up to the ring, the

twins aided her into the ropes. Her legs wobbled

a bit as her very large boss handed her the belt

posing for cameras a professional arm behind

her back. The deafening sound of cheers mixed

with applause made her jump, this sent Sefa

into action stepping up to hold her loose hand. Camille offered a weak smile to the man, her

grip tightening to steady herself when a mic

was passed to her. “Uhm-,” she shyly tried to

compose herself around a full stadium,” I’m

Camille, most of you probably don’t know me

but I’m backstage during fights.” The claps

seemed to encourage her while Trinity wiped

some spare tears of her own,” That night I

just did what I felt was necessary to protect

those children.” She stuttered a bit in anxiety,

Sefa rubbed her back comforting the shaking

woman, her small thank you made him smile,”

I have been friends with the Bloodline for years

and they’re the kindest group you’d ever meet,

I don’t think I should be rewarded by this level

but Triple H, sir, I thank you and the entire

WWE community for recognizing me in this way,

to my friends Jimmy and Trin- Naomi, I would

do it again ten times over if I had to, thank you,”

she bowed a bit accepting the belt which she

laughed when Joe wrapped it around her, Sefa

swooped her onto his shoulders making her

laugh swatting at his muscular bicep.

#fanfic #wwe fanfiction #the usos #romance #angst #fanfiction #fantasy #solo sikoa fic #solo sikoa fanfiction #sefa fatu #wwe fic

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whumperfultime · 9 months ago

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Whumpril 2024 Day 1: Limp

So uh I've only ever shared my whump writing with like. Two other people in my entire life. And it's been years since I let people read anything I've written in general. So it's kind of a big leap for me to post this, but I wanna get out of my comfort zone a little and develop these OCs some more. @whumpril

Contains: Sprained ankle, limping, fleeing from law enforcement, brief mention of gunshots, a little platonic comfort at the end, female whumpee

Kalei had no idea how she managed to evade the police pursuing her.

The darkening woods around her were quiet aside from the chirping bugs and distant birdsong. No matter how hard she strained, she couldn’t hear any more footsteps crashing through the brush or shouted orders to surrender. Which was a miracle considering how close they had been when she tripped on that stupid tree root.

That stupid fucking tree root that left her with what she prayed was just a sprained ankle and not a fracture. Whatever was wrong, it hurt. And even worse, it kept her slow. Each leaping step forward on her left leg came with an awkward landing and pulse of pain on her right. She grimaced and whispered obscenities under her breath each time. Every low ditch or patch of thick foliage beckoned to her, practically inviting her to stop and hide so that she could rest and assess the damage.

Stopping wasn’t an option.

She had to get to Dace and Matago first.

The whole job had been a set-up, clearly orchestrated by Vanidor. Get an undercover officer to pose as the client, lure them out of the city and into a rural part of Garal, arrest them after they’ve delivered the stolen goods. It was convincing enough that Kalei felt safe making the delivery by herself. That at least might have thrown a wrench into Vanidor’s plan – he was probably counting on grabbing all three of them in the same place.

That’s the desperate hope she was clinging to, anyway. If there was another team targeting the others back at the ship, then she would be too late.

Another step forward. She landed wrong on the uneven terrain, stifling a pained whimper and failing to hold back her tears. Still, she kept going. There was no way to tell if Vanidor’s team knew where they’d landed the ship. If they did, she could only hope that her crewmates would be able to take off before getting captured.

A familiar golden glow became visible through the maze of trees: the interior light of the Azaphia’s cargo bay, guiding her home.

A bellowing voice came from somewhere behind her. “Police! Stop running and do not move!”

Kalei quickened her pace to the absolute maximum, not once taking her eyes off the light. The adrenaline flooding her system seemed to numb the pain and fuel her forward. The thinning trees revealed the outline of the ship, and then broke entirely, revealing the clearing where they had landed.

She almost collapsed in sheer relief when she spotted Dace already inside, standing at the control panel for the cargo bay’s entry ramp. He slammed his hand on the close button as Kalei forced herself to keep moving. She could still hear the officers behind her, closing the gap, as the Azaphia’s engines began to power on.

The ramp raised up from the ground and inched higher.

Kalei threw herself forward, her chest slamming against the platform’s edge as it ascended. Dace grabbed onto her arms and dragged her up before she could even begin to try to climbing it herself. The two clung to each other, losing their balance and falling to the floor as the ship lifted off.

The first gunshots rang out while the cargo bay’s entrance closed and locked.

Kalei let herself collapse altogether and tried to catch her breath. They weren’t technically safe yet, but she was too exhausted not to place her faith in Matago’s piloting skills.

Dace shifted beside her, pushing himself upright. “What happened?” he demanded.

“Trap,” was all she could say at first. A few deep breaths later, she added, “Vanidor set us up with an undercover operation.”

At the mention of the man’s name, Dace let out a frustrated sigh. “Fucking bastard…guess I’ll have to let Mat know we need to lay low for a while.” He paused, processing more of the situation. “You were limping out there…are you hurt?”

Kalei tried to wave him off, then grimaced as she registered the throbbing pain again. “Twisted my ankle. Just get me some ice.”

The movement of the ship stabilized as Matago got them to the right altitude to fly. Kalei moved to try and stand only for Dace to scoop her into his arms instead. The adrenaline rush gave way to relief, and she found herself laughing as he carried her towards the med bay.

“What’s so funny?” Dace asked.

“Vanidor’s elite federal police can’t even capture a lone woman with only one fully functioning leg.”

#my writing #ocs: the crew #whumpril2024 #whumprilday1 #leg injury #limping #on the run #police mention #comfort #female whumpee #i'm so good at tagging my reblogs WHY do i not know how to tag my own writing

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mymiles27 · 9 months ago

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A STORY OF HOW WE MET

Part 2

I continued work as a cardiac technologist everyday for a couple more years in the same hospital as hers. I would be assigned to the Emergency Room for a week every 3 weeks or so, but mostly I stayed on the 3rd floor of the hospital where life dragged on.

From time to time I would be called to take tests on the floor. At which point, I would be roaming around and taking my time.

Illegally, I would park my machine over to the laboratory or somewhere I know someone who can look after it. I would secretly drop by the emergency room, which by the way is situated on the ground floor. I had to travel 2 floors down illegally, just to catch a glimpse of her.

And man, it's always worth it. Seeing her in her blue scrubs just always looking down and working tirelessly. It's like she never stops. The few moments I see her stop would be when she hangs out with her friends.

One time, I dropped by the ER station to see my friends (and of course her). I stayed there for an hour after my shift ended. I talked to whoever was there just to catch a glimpse. I didn't see her anywhere. I thought, it's been an hour. Maybe she didn't go to work. I usually get in trouble at home if I don't go straight home.

I was getting ready to leave, bid goodbye to my friends. I quickly turned around and bumped straight into her.

Again the slowmo. Me, turning too fast and bumping almost into her face. Her steth gone askew but she quickly put it back in place. She looked at me apologetically, both hands raised. As if to protect herself or in my head I might have imagined her reaching out for me so I don't fall. I don't really know. I stepped back twice to regain my footing.

I could relive it over and over in my head. And it wouldn't be as sweet as the first time I heard her voice.

"ay sorry ga"

Her voice is played nonstop, amplified and on repeat after that day. It was the voice I'd know anywhere. Too soft and kind to even be upset about waiting for an hour. Too sweet and lovable to even worry about losing my balance or hurting my back. Not even anything could compare.

"ok lang"

Was my quick retort. Breathing was too hard to add another. She raised her hand again to wave goodbye and stomped on quickly ahead. My day was complete.

I got home about two hours later. There was no one to scold me, they were all out, probably playing Bingo. So I slept in great ease, recounting how my day was sooo great. I've decided do it again tomorrow.

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titanicfreija · 1 year ago

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Formal dancing together took some work. The first waltz felt good, but Sunny just relaxed, she didn't dance.

Which was why she wanted to now.

But Freija's lack of creativity often stifled her informal dancing. Rise taught her several but it gave the Titan a series of motions to recite, it didn't teach her how to dance. For all her animation, Freija locked up without guidance. Thus, she held love for waltzes, tangos, and certain maps and games in the crucible.

Unfortunately for Sunny, waltzes and tangos all but necessitated a humanoid shape. So she needed to adapt.

"You've been quiet."

If Freija would give her the time.... "I'm trying to figure out a puzzle," she sort-of-didn't-lie.

Silence hung heavy in the cockpit for several long moments, until Freija slowly tried, "Yeah?"

"I'll tell you when I think I can explain it."

"Ah. Okay. On a scale of one to ten, how imperative is it that I leave you alone?"

Sunny almost got to ask before Freija interrupted. "One being I can point out a pretty flower, and ten being injured in the middle of combat and you already said 'hang on' once."

"Was there a particular thing?" Sunny giggled nervously upon having that trait pointed out. The ghost got irrationally annoyed when Freija called her unnecessarily. (The annoyance had rational roots, being that she wanted to help and knew what was wrong and couldn't get at it, and therefore Freija's call could only be dispair and fear, and it hurt Sunny to hear. The irrationality stood in her being snippy and angry and stormy after the instances.)

"Kinda. Wanted to talk to you about the music and dancing thing again. I know I said I'd drop it..."

Apparently, Freija had expected to be interrupted, because she didn't pick it back up. She was prepared to have an argument just by bringing it up.

Blasted Titan.

"Were you waiting for me to explode at you so I could give you something to argue with?"

"Kinda? I'm still kinda hoping the ranting will help me figure out how to help."

Sunny dropped out of the air and she planned to catch herself over the instrument panel but Freija gasped and cried out, lunging to catch with both hands. "You okay?!"

"I'm exasperated, but I'm fine," Sunny groaned, floating to Freija's ear height. "Didn't mean to scare you, I was just trying to be dramatic."

"It's fine," she muttered, turning back to the controls and checking the autopilot and the gauges artificially.

"I'm... It's sweet, the way you want to help me, it really is, but you do need to face the fact that, occasionally, we do lose."

Freija hardly glanced at Sunny and shrugged lightly. "I know. We lost every step of the way in Neomuna. And the crucible still eats me alive."

Sunny nudged her shoulder. "Sometimes there's nothing left for a thing but to let it lie."

The perpetually hardened brow softened and Freija pouted like a puppy at her ghost, then looked back to her visual. "Sorry."

"It's okay. This time, that's not the case."

The puppy face came back, but happier. "Yeah?"

"The puzzle is finding balance for your structured dances and my non -limbed shape. I can't stretch my petals to reach hands or sub in for legs in ways that'll translate to the dances. So I'm trying to think of what to do."

"There's all kinds of parallel parts dancing," Freija cheered. "Groups in the Tower do it all the time. It takes a second to learn how to do them right, but we can totally dance together!"

Sunny giggled. "I have too many pieces in the wrong places to imitate you guys. My bottom panels are front and back, and I can spread them out and go back and forth, but I can't do it enough to copy footwork."

"Oh? I'll need to see. So you've got... Eight? On your discs?"

"The ones I could use to dance, yes. Top, bottom, left, right. I used the angular ones for a long time, but the pieces move similarly. There's only a few exceptions, most of which are fewer."

"Yay! I can imitate your bouncing motions, spins, kinda things. We'll have to work together for hands and feet for you, or reinterpret, maybe keep feet together?"

"Well... I'll have to remember how, first, I don't want you to think I've got a routine planned or anything."

"Don't let me get excited and scare you," Freija laughed. "But really, when you get your petals worked out, remember how you like to use them, show me so I can see if I can copy with my arms somehow? And if you do anything with the other two sets. I don't know what I can do with my head, but we can work it out!"

Sunny nudged Freija's head gently. "I will," she promised. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Being my guardian. What's a five on that scale?"

"Ummm.... Something odd and not readily identifiable from a hundred meters somewhere like the gulch in the EDZ?"

"That'll suffice."

"Okay. I promise not to whine about any music."

#destiny 2 #d2 #ocs #writing #freija #scribble #sunny

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milaxkorshunova · 2 months ago

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Once the drinks kept coming it was difficult to stop them. And with every glass turned upside down their laughs became louder, conversations lighter until the world around them disappeared, along with the sewers, the waste, the stench, and dirt of their everyday life. It felt like stepping back into a time when everything was effortless. The world faded away, leaving just the two of them, cocooned in this small, golden bubble where nothing could intrude.

It wasn't them anymore. It wasn't Gideon Rutherford and Lyudmila Korshunova on a charitable camp-out event. They were as far away from those people as they were from the shining moon in the sky. They were as pure as the morning dew and the soft mist that rises with the first rays of the sun, that little gap between time and space when the night ends but the day hasn't started yet when everything is just a moment before waking up. At that time, they were just Gid and Mila, closer to those young and naive kids they had been in college, sneaking to and away from the parties, running away for the weekends just to return to sleepless study nights with nothing but their names and dreams of life they didn't know they already had.

Lyudmila couldn't be more grateful to have Gideon there, who, after everything, still saw the old part of her that no one else knew – the part that felt young, weightless, free.

When she thought she couldn't keep her laughter in (even during lesser entertaining parts), Lyudmila was definitely not ready to see Gideon struggle to stand. She ended up in a state of mute laughter, the kind where her stomach was hurting and her face was twisted yet no sound was coming out of her – until it did, and it came bursting out.

Clutching her sides, she gasped, “Stop, I’m going to pee myself!” She attempted to stand up herself, gladly taking the hand offered and pushing herself up. With her own wobbly legs, Lyudmila made both of them lose balance for a second or two – truly like two drunk idiots – before she steadied them.

“Honestly, darling,” she teased, catching her breath, "you're talking as if I have any idea where my shelter is located in this god-forsaken land. So, – " She swayed a bit, "even if you wanted to try something, luck is definitely not on your side." The mumbling of her words – oh, God was she drunk!

"But I think it's that way." With her arm still linked with Gid's, she set off toward a direction that, in her current state, seemed entirely reasonable. She moved at a surprisingly bold pace, considering their inebriated state. “I’m always up for a little adventure. Maybe we’ll run into a bear. And maybe that bear will take care of the French for you—save you the trouble of any ‘drowning’ attempts.”

"You would make an exquisite statue," the Rutherford agrees "Wouldn't put ya on these grounds, though... Can't trust who might've taken a piss on them." With the number of enemies his father's made, there's really no telling. Good thing it's the first time they're hosting this many questionable parties, given he used to roll around this land as a kid.

But when she playfully insists he'd been a gentleman, Gideon indulges a private smile.

Sometimes, looking back, he's not so sure. It had taken his next relationship — the toxicity of it — for him to realize he'd taken Mila for granted. Her unselfish love, the effortlessness of their connection, the understanding he didn't always deserve. He's relieved she doesn't hold it against him. That she remembers him more as the man he'd wanted to be, rather than the naïve, cocksure boy he'd sometimes been.

"Your company is always welcome, but it's rude to leave a man drinking alone." Gideon smiles, motioning for shots. He pushes two over to her when they arrive, with thanks to the bartender. "C'mon, unsung hero... Bottom's up. Show 'em how we used to do this."

// (a few hours later)

"Alright, I got this... Hey- hey! Don't laugh! Have some faith, Lyu- Ly-... Mila." With more care than it should've taken, Gideon slides off the stool, world tipping over briefly until he catches himself on legs that feel like jelly. "See??... Now let me escort you back to your tent." He offers her an arm to get off her own stool. "I won't try anything, promise."

And then, in case she's more worried about her roommate, he adds, "I won't-... Won't drown the French rat, either. Even if the lot of them could use a little baptizing."

And that, from the mouth of a real skeptic.

#pls i am so sorry for this fucking essay lmao i couldnt stop #dont match #c: gideon rutherford #[ event: camping ]

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apiratewhopines · 3 years ago

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Weak

A Captain Swan one shot

Rating - G / 15k

Summary - A whole lot of pining, then a happy ending. Egregious amounts of chocolate chip cookies. You have been warned.

—

Monday - 2001

Logically, Emma Swan knew she hadn’t loved Killian Jones her entire life. After all, he didn’t walk into her corner of the world until she was a teenager.

The small-minded town with pretensions of grandeur that she found herself in that fateful day was the latest in a long line of never-ending stops in her short life. Same shit, different day. Sure, David and Mary Margaret Nolan seemed decent enough, but everyone did in the beginning. She had learned early on that smiles were the worst kind of lies, and a welcome usually only lasted as long as the money from the state checks did.

It was a Monday, and had felt like it. Wet, miserable, and cold. The bright pink umbrella forced on her by her new foster mother as she left for school was useless against the gusting wind and torrential rain. She was soaked through. Her worn red Converse were a half-size too big—the only pair of shoes she had ever picked out for herself—and they rubbed her feet raw. The weight of the waterlogged canvas made every step feel like she was moving through quicksand.

Her new foster family had wanted to drive her on her first day, citing the incoming stormy weather. It was a nice gesture and certainly more than most would have done. Still, Emma had felt it was essential to establish boundaries from the beginning. Polite and distant. Better for them all to treat each other as temporary roommates. She was less than a year away from aging out of the system, even though she would be granted a few extra months to graduate from high school. There was no need to pretend a permanence that was as unlikely as it was unnecessary.

Emma had walked the short distance to her new high school to start the second semester of her Junior year, only getting turned around a couple of times. She had the same trouble now as navigated back to the building the Nolans owned. She hadn’t missed the big city exactly, but the sameness of the streets in the town unnerved her. Everything looked similar, haphazardly laid out and boring. Despite always being alone, she had never felt lonelier as she made her way to her new place.

She never thought of them as homes.

Until he showed up.

For years afterward, her mind amplified the moment. It echoed through her head, taking on new meaning and exaggerated importance with every subsequent interaction. In the dead of night, she would probe the memory like a sore tooth. In the bright light of morning, she held tightly to her dreams, innocent scenes that made her heart race nonetheless. Everyone she met was sized up in comparison and immediately found lacking.

He was perfect.

Their meeting wasn’t the stuff of fairytales and legends. For one thing, she was fairly certain romantic heroines didn’t wear cast-off clothes and look like drowned rats. Still, if ever there was a man made for myths, it was Killian Jones.

The sheets of rain had made it difficult to see your hand in front of your face, so she could be forgiven for nearly colliding with the stranger. His quiet oof was barely audible over the pounding of rain, but his hands came out of nowhere to catch her before the impact caused her to lose her balance. Faster than she could even react, he had thrown his jacket over both their heads and ushered her through the door, out of the elements.

The difference between the humidity outside and the chilly air inside the minimalist hallway made her glasses fog up. It was as if the voice of God was reverberating through the space when her companion complimented in a lilting voice, “Nice shoes.”

She swiped at her lenses and was treated to a flash of blue eyes, lashes spiked with moisture and as dark and thick as the scruff covering the sharp lines of his jaw. A jaunty wink and gentle pat on the shoulder to assure himself she was steady had her scrambling for coherent words.

He waited another second before her tongue-tied silence seemed to act as a dismissal, and with a friendly nod of the head, he turned away.

She watched his form take the stairs two at a time, energy vibrating around him as if all the light in the universe was drawn to him. She wanted to shout for him to stop, demand his name and favorite color, and ask if he ever ached for things he never knew. Instead, she continued to stand frozen in the doorway, eyes following him like he was her lifeline, a buoy in the rough seas. When his red Converse were no longer visible, moving to the second-floor landing and out of sight, she heard the jingle of keys and the sound of a door opening and closing before her breath returned in a rush.

Rubbing her arm where his touch had lingered, she walked up the two flights of steps to the Nolan place on the third floor in a daze. Suddenly, her clothes felt too tight and the room too warm. Mary Margaret was in the kitchen baking cookies; completely obvious that the world had shifted and nothing would ever be the same again.

So no, technically, she hadn’t loved him her entire life. But since her life didn’t feel like it started until she met him, it was a moot point, really.

Read the rest on AO3

@teamhook @jrob64 @motherkatereloyshipper @stahlop @kmomof4 @klynn-stormz @xsajx @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @snowbellewells @qualitycoffeethings

#cs ff #emma swan #killian jones #captain swan

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drspencerweed · 4 years ago

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Dreams Do Come True

Summary/Request: from anon: CONGRATS ON HITTING 500 ILYSM!!! random request,, having a wet dream about spencer while sharing a room on a case (i know, super original) and him getting all hot and bothered hearing you moan 🙈😁

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

W/C: 3484

Content: smut, fluff, friends to lovers, oral sex (both receiving), premature ejaculation, wet dream, sub!spencer

A/N: Hi! So this probably isn’t exactly what you asked for, but I started writing it and it kind of took on a mind of it’s own. I banged this out in two days, it practically wrote itself. I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

read on ao3

Sharing a hotel room with her was normal. It was. Sure, they had never done it before, but that was just because Hotch had never randomly assigned the two of them before. So okay, it wasn’t normal by definition. But he wasn’t going to make it weird. Just because he had a small crush on her did not mean that he would let it be weird. They were colleagues, and they even spent time together outside of work too! She would come to his apartment to watch old movies, and he would go to hers so she could cook for him. So he knew he could spend time with her alone, that wasn’t the problem.

It was the sleeping that was potentially the issue.

His little crush had been invading his subconscious almost constantly nowadays, and he was known to talk in his sleep. He was so scared he would say something wrong in his sleep. If she overheard something like that, he knew their friendship would never recover. How can you act normal around someone who said your name in their sleep?

He had been avoiding going to sleep before her, so he had taken Derek up on his offer for a drink in his room to talk about anything but the case they were working.

“So when are you going to tell [Y/N] that you’re into her?” Derek asked out of nowhere.

Spencer stuttered around the sip of his drink. “W-Who says I’m interested in her?”

Derek just laughed and clapped Spencer on the shoulder. His cheeks were burning, a sure sign of his embarrassment at being called out. “Pretty boy, you give her heart eyes every time she walks in a room.”

His blush deepened. “Even if I was interested, there’s a very low probability that she is also interested. So the answer to your question would be never, obviously.” Derek stopped his giggling and gave Spencer an incredulous look.

“All that genius and you don’t see how she looks at you?” Derek asked.

“How she looks at me?”

“She looks at you like you hung the stars, man.”

Spencer scoffed, brushing off the comment. “No she doesn’t.”

Derek started laughing again, “Yes she does! Oh my god, the genius can’t read basic body language?”

“Even if, occasionally, her body language reflected an attraction to me, it was probably because she was thinking of someone she actually was attracted to. Statistically, most women find me awkward and-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, none of this negative self talk. You’re a catch!”

Spencer just waved his hand at the comment, taking a long sip of his whiskey and coughing a bit as he swallowed. Derek eyed him curiously.

“I’m telling you, you’re never gonna get anywhere if you never shoot your shot. The worst thing that could happen is she says no.” Derek advised. He shook his head and finished his drink .

“The worst that could happen is she thinks I’m an absolute weirdo and never wants to talk to me again.” Spencer explained.

“That’s not going to happen.” Spencer rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“I can’t risk losing her.” He insisted. Derek sighed and accepted that he was a lost cause, leaning back in his seat and changing the subject.

~~~~

Spencer made his way back to the room a few hours later, saying a silent prayer to a God he didn’t believe in that she was already asleep. The light was off, so he clicked on the bathroom light so he could see but hopefully not wake her.

“[Y/N]?” He called quietly into the dark. All he got in response was a small whimper. He thanked his lucky stars and made his way to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Once he was all cleaned up and in a pair of sweatpants and a tshirt, he made his way to climb into bed. Just as he swung the sheets off, he heard a low moan from the bed next to him. It stopped him in his tracks. He turned towards her bed, looking at her face for any signs of distress. Nightmares could be debilitating; he knew from experience. But her face was peaceful, beautifully restful. He stopped again for a different reason, taking in the way her face looked as she slept.

Then it scrunched up as she let out another moan. His eyebrows furrowed, wanting to wake her in case she was having a bad dream, but not wanting to disturb her. He swallowed thickly.

Another moan. This one was followed quickly by a quick, “Spencer!” He reeled, unsure where his name had come up. Was she dreaming about him? Was she having a nightmare about him? Or was she calling out for his help?

She let a long, drawn out, “Oh,” and rolled from her side onto her back. He took a step forward, planning to shake her awake from what was clearly a nightmare at this point. But suddenly, “Go on, lick me.”

Spencer stopped with his hands out above her shoulders, inches from waking her. Lick me? He mouthed to himself. What could she possibly be dreaming about?

“Fuck, Spencer, I’m gonna cum!” She exclaimed, rolling back on her side. And-oh my gosh. Spencer took three quick steps back, realizing far too late exactly what was happening. He was entirely unsure how to react. [Y/N]? Having a sex dream about him? It was unbelievable. On his third step back, he ran right into his bed, and lost his balance.

He fell to the floor with a crash.

Her eyes blinked open, and he didn’t have any time to get up or move at all, so her eyes met his immediately upon waking. “Spencer? What happened?” Her voice was tired from sleep.

Spencer blinked, and immediately panicked. He was never good at lying under pressure. “I-uh. You were having a, uhm, dream. And I thought, thought it was a nightmare so-” As he spoke, [Y/N]’s face got redder and redder, and she sat up in bed and placed her face in her hands.

“Oh no, you didn’t hear anything, did you?” She asked cautiously, barely chancing a glance up at him. He swallowed tightly and nodded. “Fuck me!” She said, throwing her head back on the pillow. Her voice sent something through him, and all he wanted was to say Okay and kiss her. But Spencer knew one didn’t control their own subconscious. Just because she had a dream about him didn’t means she actually wanted it to happen. He scrambled to his feet and cleared his throat.

Before he could say something, anything really, she was sitting up again with a groan, rubbing her hand over her face. “Well I guess now you know about my stupid crush.”

“Your crush?” He asked. She looked at him incredulously.

“You heard me moan your name in my sleep. Yes, obviously, my crush. On you.” She explained matter of factly. He stuttered, trying to allow his brain to process the amount of information he had just been given. It didn’t make sense to him. [Y/N] was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, not to mention one of the most confident. She carried herself with such authority he never thought she’d look twice in his direction. Clearly, she’d want some confident alpha male who could match her energy, not his insecure nervous self. But here she was, telling him point blank that she had a crush on him.

He didn’t know what to do. While he was standing there, stuttering, trying to gather his thoughts, [Y/N] made her way out of her bed to stand in front of him. She was only wearing a tank top and a pair of small shorts, and he could barely keep himself from staring at her body. “I had no idea.” He finally settled on saying, and she let out a loud laugh.

“Really? Profiler extraordinaire? No idea? Why do you think I cooked for you so many times?” She smiled at him while she said it, like she couldn’t quite believe he didn’t see it.

“I thought you just wanted to be friends!” He exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. She seemed to deflate at this, her face falling and wringing her hands together.

“I did! I do! But I was always open to...more. I just wanted to spend time with you.” She explained, sitting back on the edge of her bed and staring down at her hands. “But you clearly have no interest in that-”

“No! No.” He corrected quickly, and then realized with a sudden clarity that since her confession he’d done nothing to imply he felt the same. She stared up at him at his exclamation, unsure what he meant.

“No?”

“No, you’re wrong, I do have interest in that. In more.” He explained, sitting next to her. He awkwardly reached for her hand, which she offered with a small smile. Lacing their fingers together, he looked her in the eye with purpose. “I also have a crush on you. I stayed out of the room tonight because I was trying to avoid, uhm. What happened to you. I thought that might happen to me.”

She stared at their entwined hands, and then looked back at him. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” He smiled at her, and her face brightened immediately. She turned completely towards him and pulled him in by the neck, pressing their foreheads together. Spencer let their noses rub together, both of them still beaming.

“I’m going to kiss you now.” She whispered, her breath fanning over his lips as she said it. Before he could even nod, her lips pressed to his. It was magic. Her lips were soft and urgent, catching his bottom lip between them. Her hands pulled him closer to her by the neck, and he let his hands find her waist, urging her closer. She climbed into his lap with his guidance, and he let his tongue slip into her mouth as she did it. Her hands roamed into his hair, pushing it off his head and carding her fingers through it, causing him to moan. She giggled into his mouth.

“You like having your hair played with, baby?” She asked, pulling away to watch his reaction as she tugged on his roots. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he let his hands drop to her ass. He squeezed and pulled her down onto him, letting his lips find her neck. She let out a loud groan as he sucked a mark into her pulse point, but she pushed him away with both hands on his cheeks.

“Not above the collar,” She reminded. He smirked at the idea of everyone on the team knowing what they were doing. At everyone on the team knowing that she wanted to do this with him.

“But what if I want people to know you’re mine.” He asked, pressing a quick kiss to her lips as he said it. She smiled at him.

“I think you’ve got this whole thing wrong then.”

He furrowed his brow at her, unsure what he could have possibly misunderstood.

“You, Dr. Reid, are mine.” She said, and then pushed him down onto the bed. He stared up at her perched on his lap, and let his hands roam her body. Now that he had free reign to touch, he never wanted to stop. She sighed and ran her hands down his chest, going to the bottom of his shirt and pulling it off of him. Her hands lit fires under his skin, as he gripped her by the hips and rolled his hardness into her. She chuckled at him.

“Hard already, baby?” She teased. He moaned and threw his head back as she rotated her hips on him. “Use your words.” She ordered, gripping his face to make him look at her.

“Yes, miss.” He answered on instinct. He immediately froze up, trying to take back the honorific when they had never discussed anything like that. It just slipped out, his little experience with being a submissive taking over because of [Y/N]’s naturally dominant role. But her eyes lit up, and she simply smirked at him.

“Good boy.” She whispered, and pressed down hard with her hips.

He came in his pants.

With a loud groan and a thrust upward, he shot into his sweatpants. She chuckled as he shuddered through his orgasm, and leaned down to kiss him. As soon as he came down from the high, embarrassment overtook him. He had a chance with his dream girl, and he literally blew it not five minutes in. Because she called him a Good boy. He brought his hands up to cover his face, but she caught his wrists before he could reach. He closed his eyes and turned his face away, not ready for the ridicule that was sure to follow.

“Awh, did I make you cum?” She rolled her hips a few times, and he hissed at the oversensitivity. “That’s so hot.”

“W-What?” He asked, turning back towards her slowly. She was beaming at him.

“You were so overwhelmed with me that you came so quick, what’s not hot about that?” She said, stroking his cheek. “The cutest boy, all worked up, just for me.”

He blushed again, and swallowed as he smiled back at her. “But what about you?”

“What about me?” She asked. His hands danced along her sides, cupping her breasts and teasing her nipples through her shirt.

“Wanna make you feel good.” He said while she gasped.

“What’s stopping you?” She asked with a smirk. He surged upwards and began kissing her again, only stopping to finally rip her shirt off of her and get his hands on her bare breasts. Her hands found his hair again and tugged on the strands, causing their mouths to break apart as he panted.

“Wanna taste you.” He requested. She moaned and pulled him into another kiss, guiding his hands to touch her under her shorts. His fingers trailed through her wetness, and she moaned against his lips. Then he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked on them, while her eyes watched through hooded lids. He moaned around his fingers, the taste of her so intoxicating he wanted more of it.

“You’re so fucking hot. Such a good, good boy.” She whispered, stroking his hair. Then she crawled off his lap and laid out on the bed next to him. He turned to watch her as she shimmied off her shorts. Her eyes fell to where he was still sucking on his fingers. She gestured him over to her, and he quickly crawled between her legs. She nodded towards him. “Go on then, taste me.”

He dove in tongue first, with broad licks up and down her pussy. Her hands immediately laced through his hair, pulling him closer to her. His tongue traced from her hole to her clit. He wrapped his arms around her thighs and pulled her in, letting his lips latch onto her clit and sucking. Flicking the tip of it with his tongue, she moaned and threw her head back on the pillows.

“Oh!” She cried, and it sounded just like when she was having the dream earlier. Spencer had a quick thought about making her dreams come true, but brushed it to the side as idealized thinking. Then she lifted his head off of her and looked straight into his eyes. “Go on, lick me.”

Whether she remembered her dream or not, she was clearly living out her fantasy. He lolled his tongue out of his mouth and leisurely licked over her pussy, his tongue flat and wide. She canted her hips up towards him, and he let his tongue form rapid circles around her clit. Her moans fueled his motions, and he moved one of his hands down to pressed two fingers into her.

She whined as he entered her, and let out a quick “Spencer!” He curled his fingers while sucking on her clit again, and her thighs began to clench around his head. He found the right spot inside her by listening to her moans, and then focused all his attention there while flicking his tongue against her clit.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” She cried, tugging on his hair. He kept doing everything exactly the same, pushing her over the edge with a loud shout. He kept up his ministrations until she pushed him off from the oversensitivity. She let out a loud sigh as he pulled off, and her hands went up to clutch at her own hair for a change. Staring up at the ceiling, she let a grin cross her face as a few aftershocks rolled through her. He admired her as she came down from her high, and then moved to the bathroom to wash his hands and get a rag to clean her up.

When he came back he went to wipe her down, but she took the rag from him. “Sit. I get to take care of you, now.” She wiped herself down and then kneeled in front of him. She pulled down his sweatpants, which stuck a little to his cock which was hard again. Smirking up at him, she began wiping him down while he hissed, the gentle touches not enough for him. Suddenly her hot mouth wrapped around his head, and he groaned out. She made quick work of him, throwing her all into the blowjob from the start, taking him as deep as possible over and over. His hands clenched in the sheets as he came for a second time, this time down her throat.

She swallowed as he watched in awe, and then wiped down his softening cock and stood up. Silently, she made her way to the bathroom and got rid of the dirty towel.

When she came back Spencer was still sitting on the edge of the bed. He smiled up at her and reached out a hand, which she took gladly letting him pull her in for a hug, with her standing between his knees.

“I really like you, you know.” He said, his chin resting between her breasts as he stared up at her.

“I know. I really like you too.”

“Would you like to get dinner with me, when the case is over?”

“As long as we can keep doing what we just did before then, absolutely.” She said with raised eyebrows. He let out a laugh which made her smile, and he pressed a kiss to her chest.

“Of course.”

“You can make my other dreams come true.” She smirked.

“I’d love to.”

~~~~

When they walked into the precinct the next morning, [Y/N] was wearing a scarf, despite the hot Texas heat. She hadn’t quite caught Spencer in time, and he had in fact left a mark. Of course the whole team noticed.

“Oi, Pretty Boy, was [Y/N] in your room last night?” Derek asked at the coffee station. Luckily Spencer was facing away from him, so Derek didn’t see how his immediate reaction was to blanche at the memories from the night before. He gathered himself quickly.

“Yes, of course, why?” He asked as he turned around, stirring his coffee. Derek’s attention was on [Y/N], who was talking to an officer on the other side of the precinct.

“That scarf is only there to hide something, I think our lovely lady might’ve got some last night.” Derek said with a smirk. “Don’t let it break your heart, you still have a chance!” He turned to Spencer and clapped him on the shoulder, who was blushing intensely at the tease. [Y/N] had, in fact, ‘got some’, and he was the some she got with. Derek noticed he was off.

“C’mon, I’m just teasing. She probably didn’t get a chance to-” While he was talking, Spencer caught [Y/N]’s eye from across the room. She smirked at him and waved, and he smiled and waved back. Derek cut himself off when he saw Spencer’s wave, turning to see just as [Y/N]’s face turned back to the officer she was talking to. “Oh my god. You crazy man, you actually did it!” Derek exclaimed, shaking Spencer.

Spencer spluttered, shaking his head. “N-No, it’s not like that, I-”

“I don’t need all the details, I just need to know it happened. Because it did happen, didn’t it?” He asked, trying to look Spencer in the eye, but the latter was aggressively avoiding eye contact. Spencer pursed his lips to try and contain his smile as he nodded. “My man!” Derek exclaimed, pulling him into a hug.

Spencer caught [Y/N]’s eye again over Derek’s shoulder, and the smile she gave him made him smile right back.

They had dreams to realize tonight.

Final A/N: thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

taglist: @rusticreid @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto

send me a message or comment on this fic to be added to my taglist!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #sub spencer reid #criminal minds fan fic #spencer reid fan fic #my fic #mine

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starsasunder · 11 months ago

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My dear.

How many times has she heard that endearment now? Dripping with sarcasm, with affection, with irritation, with lust. Always he had spoken it to her gently, even before they had gotten close, yet now it drips with contempt, as though she were nothing more than a naive child in need of correction.

She staggers forward one step, then another, determined to put herself between him and them. Her legs ache with exhaustion, a chilling sort of stiffness slowly crawling up her limbs as the Light exacerbates barely-healed injuries from another of His kind. Elidibus would be pleased, she was sure, to know that even now he hampered her from her task.

Before she can stop Ryne, she rushes forward, Light already brimming at her fingertips as she attempts to stem the flow welling up within Inanna. Inanna cries out and tries to grab her but she's gone so fast she cannot even react, losing her balance for a moment only to catch herself with her staff.

"Is that really how you see me? Weak, pathetic, unworthy? A waste of all your time and efforts?" she hisses, a sardonic smile on her lips as she wipes them clean of dripping Light with her wrist. She spits the rest on the ground, taking a moment to holster her staff across her back, then takes an unsteady step toward him without support, then another.

"You set yourself up for disappointment, Ascian." Not his title, and certainly not his name. Not now. "I was never going to live up to your expectations. I'm not her." She didn't know her name, but she could put two and two together. Whispered requests to remember when he thought she was asleep; fond, nostalgic glances when she did something that must remind him of her; the way he seemed to look right through her at times... Now that she knew the truth of him and their fractured world, she knew the truth of herself. Or at least as much as she could hope to, given how little he had revealed.

"Oh, my dear." The laugh bubbles out of him, a sick sort of amusement filling him at her words. "My enemy is all of you." The smile drops and he raises one hand into the air, the snap of his fingers echoing through the space around them.

She is unraveling before him, and there is a pull in his chest, as if there was a rope between them, yanking him to her. He stays firm, feet planted where he stands. This will not sway him. Even as he watches her fracture and splinter, bursts of Light spilling from every orifice in her fragile body, he stands.

He aches as he watches her, eyes cold and uncaring, a stark contrast to the overflow of emotion he was feeling within. A part of him wants to run over, to pull the aether from her body and take it into his own, to be the one bursting apart so she could stand tall and strong and be the hero the world needed, the hero he wasn't so sure he still believed himself to be.

His thoughts are interrupted as one of her compatriots rushes to her side, the noxious scent of Hydaelyn's aether permeating from every fiber of her being. The resulting feelings that well within him silence any doubts he had begun to harbor, and his face contorts as he turns on the small being. She is too slow, untrained in the ways of his old friends gentle magicks. It is no feat to stop her, a simple burst of aether like a bullet bringing her to ground.

"Look at you, you can barely stand! And this is supposed to be the hero of your world? The saviour of the star?" He barks out a laugh, anger and malice filling every word he speaks. "Pathetic."

#[ ic. ] inanna.#[ partner. ] ofaetherium.#[ ship. ] inanna: 'i think we've loved a thousand lives; i try to find you every time.' « hades | ofaetherium »#[ verse. ] starlight dimmed.

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aneenasevla · 2 years ago

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Spookengan 5 - Sherlock Mousie

Previous / MasterPost

Made in Collab with @useless-bi-otch

"Seven days."

That's what the whispering female voice said on the call she'd received, the exact day she was watching Ring, the famous horror movie, last week. It was an unknown number, of course.

A part of her brain was skeptical, saying it was just a prank call that coincided. Another part, the superstitious one who loved to mistake coats for people in the dark, said it was too coincidental to be anything mundane. Either way, it was extremely difficult to ignore.

Ayami decided not to let that interfere with her work, though. She tried to focus on the office paperwork, the calls she needed to make, the contracts she needed to sign. It was a useful way to occupy her mind. And with her busy schedule as it was, she wouldn't jump in fright every time the phone rang. She was a big girl, enough to not fall for that stuff anyway…

But things didn't stop there, of course. The phone rang, and when she answered it, the meeting she had scheduled for the weekend had been canceled due to the disappearance of one of the employees. The other day, the printer started printing a bunch of weird little notes.

“Don't run away”, one of them said.

“I know who you are”, the other said.

And the next day, the living room’s carpet was wet. Akito, her brother, swore he hadn't done that. This was very strange.

The feeling of strangeness only increased when, the next day, when she turned on the faucet at the bathroom sink to do her morning hygiene, the water was dirty and accompanied by a handful of dark and viscous hairs, and there's so much of it so that she wondered how it didn't clog all the plumbing. She had to ask to use the neighbor's bathroom while calling the plumbers, trying not to let her head paint bizarre, terrifying scenarios.

As tempting as it was to get someone else to see the movie too, she didn't want such a cheap and petty solution. She decided to wait and see. She had a Katana at home, anyway.

The night of the last day arrived, and she, trying to silence the anxious voice that whispered scary nonsense in her ear, decided to take a shower. She rinses off and washes her hair under the shower, all the while glancing nervously over her shoulder. When it's time to get in the tub, she makes a point of inspecting the water, making sure there aren't any submerged creatures, emerging from the depths of Hell. And then she ties her hair back and steps into the tub, sighing, feeling kind of ridiculous.

"Don't be an idiot, Ayami…” She says to herself “It was just a prank call… and you didn’t even watch any tape before that call, that’s not how the curse works…"

And the silence kinda helped her to calm down, the water felt really good… she reached for the soap, and was surprised when it landed right in her hand. She opens her eyes and, right in front of her, she saw a pair of black eyes peeking at her through locks of lank, black hair, hiding a devilish smile.

"SQUEEEAK!" Ayami loses balance in the bathtub, slipping, sinking to her nose and swallowing a mouthful of water. Coughing, eyes watering, she faces the macabre figure and yells: “Raian! You almost made me drown, you…!" And throws the soap at him, which he dodged with a reflexive swipe of his hand. He burst out laughing right in front of her.

"AHAHAAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh fuck, I'm gonna throw up- ahahahahaha!" He holds his belly as he leans against the wall and slides down it as he loses strength, still laughing "Holy shit, it was so damn worth it!" He turns around when his lungs start begging for air, clapping his hands like a seal "I can’t get enough of this mouse-like, high-pitched scream…"

"Catching me off guard during the bath was unfair! You big…" She growls, staring at him indignantly while he laughs his ass off "Yeah, go on, keep laughing! You must be very proud of yourself, huh? Spending the whole week building up the tension for the ultimate scare…"

His laugh goes from devilish to mischievous. He looks at her, tugging the wig off his head, getting to his feet "And you fell right into it. The invincible Sherlock Mousie, a rational strategist, being deceived by absurd coincidences right outta a ghost movie."

"It's your fault! You and your effort to make everything as believable as possible!" She kicks some water at him "How did you manage to do those things, huh? When one of the employees I was going to have a meeting with disappeared…"

"Uh? Oh, that idiot", he shrugs "Making people disappear is our specialty, you know…" he smiles devilishly at her, and when her eyes widen. He laughs and waves his hand "Just kidding, he drank too much and took a soothing injection. He's in the hospital, he'll be back on his feet soon."

"Ooh… okay then…" She sighs, relieved "I don't need to ask about the printer, it was definitely you… but what about the carpet? I mean, you really got it soaking wet just to make a prank? That's dedication..."

"It wasn't intentional. I stopped by the house to organize the 'black hair coming outta the sink' thing in the bathroom when I saw your brother walking down the hall. I made a run for it and dropped some stupid vase on the carpet by accident. Luckily he's as inattentive as you are, so I didn't get caught."

"The hair!" She gestures agitatedly, her brow furrowing even more "That was by far the most absurd part of it all! Where did all that hair come from? I had to call the plumbers, the pipes were so clogged!"

He shrugs as he chuckles “Well, you know my family, we're never short of black hair” He crosses his arms, now full of himself, his smile still not fading in the slightest.

“You're going to reimburse me for the damage, do you hear me?" She throws more water on him, but the truth is that the relief was so much that she couldn't even get very angry. She was actually impressed with his dedication "But seriously, you did some good mix with the sources there. I noticed as much detail from Sadako's version as Samara's version’s."

"You're not the only one who likes this crap", he gets up, approaching her "I've seen both versions, and honestly, we do better. But the best part was your face when I finally showed up, like..." he kisses the tips of his index and thumb fingers "Chef’s kiss. Tha shit deserves an Oscar. Shall I call you Marilyn Monrat from now on?"

She lets out a fart-like sound through her mouth, quickly covering it up "Pffft…! If- If I were acting, maybe… you're the one who should get an Oscar for playing the most muscular Sadako I've ever seen in my life, hahaha! It deserves one for originality alone."

"Hahahaha, I met an idiot who looked just like that, not original at all" he comes even closer "heh, but today... ooh, today was the day I finally caught the so elusive Sherlock Mousie off guard" he sits down and uses his knuckles to squeeze the tip of her nose "Now she's right here, helpless and naked in front of me" He crosses his arms and, without any shame, looks her up and down as if there's no water covering her up.

Her first reaction was to try to cover herself with her arms, blushing at his intensely interested gaze. But she holds the urge back, mustering up the courage to put her hands on her hips and let him get a good look, arching an eyebrow.

"Naked? Maybe. But never defenseless…" And she grabs the back scrubber beside the tub, attacking him as if wielding a sword. He obviously defends himself like it's nothing, but she uses that half-second of distraction to jump out of the tub, rushing out of the bathroom while grabbing a towel on the way. He could’ve sworn he heard her giggling. He lets out a low laugh in response.

"Seriously? Still gonna run away?" he smiles devilishly "Hehe, that's how I like it", and he runs after her.

Neither of them was going to sleep that night, that was for sure.

Next Chapter Here

#kengan ashura #kengan omega #kenganverse #heavybakery #devilsfood #kengan oc #fanfiction #raian kure #kure raian #funny pranks #halloween #ringu #sadako #samara

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just-horrible-things · 3 years ago

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‘Verse: Resistance Story: Unlikely Salvation, co-author @whump-sprite Timeline: Arc 5, Ariadne has been rescued from interrogation

Home Again, pt1 [ First | Prev | Next ]

Reyan is invisible until the door closes behind him. As soon as she lays eyes on him Ari tries to get up. Relief and fear blur into each other, coming together as a hot, unnameable spike of emotion behind her sternum.

She wants to go to him. Reyan will protect her – from the feds, from Dev, from the world.

But her ankle blazes with pain on pain and she cannot make it take her weight, not for all the will in the world.

"Hey," Reyan says to her. "Let's go home." His smile is worried and gentle.

Shame closes over Ariadne like thick, filthy swamp water, and she can't breathe.

It takes all the will she can muster not to hide her face in bandaged hands. She hugs her elbows tight against her body, ignoring all the places that hurt to move.

“‘kay,” she manages, in a very thin, strained voice.

Reyan moves a hand as he approaches. Ari can’t look at him but she glimpses the faint glow that trails behind his fingers. She expects a spike of irrational panic – and when it doesn’t happen the feeling is like missing a step.

She sits frozen, paralysed between the need to pull away and hide, and the shame of being seen to react so childishly. When Reyan reaches down to her, she very stiffly gives him her less-bad arm.

She’s been picked up with magic enough times to recognise the buoyant feeling as it takes most of her weight. She feels too dirty to touch, but her ankle doesn't give her much option but to fall against Reyan as he pulls her upright.

His body is warm against hers. The steady support makes Ari's heart ache. She wants it. She can't stand it. She doesn’t deserve it. She needs it.

Reyan knows better than to put an arm across her back, and she’s pathetically grateful for that.

“Take care of yourself out there,” Dev tells her at the door, “I’d hate to see all my hard work go to waste.” “Thank you,” Ari answers softly. “For… all the help.” She means it. She hasn't forgotten screaming and begging for them, but it feels… distant. This time, they have been good to her, and she needed it so badly.

Reyan makes it easier for her to walk than it ever was leaning on Dev. She's lighter, and the splints don't dig in the same way, the breaks – all the breaks, ankle and feet and arms and ribs – don't shift as painfully with every step. She can only guess that Reyan's magic is wrapped invisibly round her broken limbs, keeping them steady. She’s grateful for that, she’s intensely grateful.

(Would he still expend that energy on her if he knew the whole truth?)

A thought tries to form, while the elevator goes down and Ari has a chance to catch her breath, about what kinds of faults Reyan would or wouldn't judge her for. But then they’re moving again and she loses the idea, loses everything but the narrow focus on keeping her balance and forcing her limbs to move.

When they get to the car – not a vehicle she recognises, doesn’t matter – she all but falls into it. She would fall, and probably hurt herself worse, if not for Reyan’s magic. Instead she’s lowered carefully onto the back seat. “What’s easiest for you?” Reyan asks. “Want to lie down? Sit sideways?” The car isn't wide enough to lie full length. She doesn't want to fold her bad leg up, but if she sits sideways how will she brace herself against the movement of the car…?

She almost starts crying again just trying to figure it out. Sharp humiliation cuts inside her chest and behind her eyes.

“Just… just the normal way?” she wavers. Her back is all tightly wrapped in Dev’s neat bandages. Maybe resting it against the car seat won't be so intolerable. It's a less terrifying prospect than being thrown around on every turn.

She doubts her decision as soon as she leans back.

Reyan watches her with concern in his eyes as she tries to settle. His hand rests briefly on the front of her shoulder. The simple gesture sends a fresh lance of guilt through Ari’s heart. “I’m sorry,” she blurts out, only barely remembering not to sir him. “They – got everything I know, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Reyan leans a hand on the roof of the car. He's trying to make eye contact but Ari can't lift her gaze from her lap. “Most of what you knew is no longer true,” he says. Ari clings to the assurance like a lifeline. She told herself the same, in the long hours between tortures. Tried to hope that they’d treat everything she knew as compromised. “They have mindfuckers,” Reyan says. Yes, Ari tries to confirm, but she’s choked up and it comes out as a tiny croak of an “‘s.” “We knew it.”

Tears are spilling uncontrolled down her cheeks again. Reyan shifts stiffly as if to get into the back seat with her, so Ari – a little bewildered – shuffles over to make room. Anders sits carefully on the edge of the seat beside her, takes her arm, and pulls her in close.

Baffled, Ari is pliable in his hands. He guides her – not forcefully, almost hesitantly – to put her better arm across his chest, and lets his hand linger on her upper arm. His other hand goes to the back of her head, fingers sliding carefully through her hair.

A sob wells up in Ari’s chest, then another. She buries her face in the crook of Anders’ neck and clings as the tears overtake her.

“I’m sorry,” she cries, over and over. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.” “It’s okay,” Anders repeats in answer, over and over to match her apologies. “It’s okay.” Slowly, almost cautiously, his hand moves across her scalp, stroking through her hair as Ariadne weeps wretchedly into his shoulder.

She’s seen him throw lightning from those hands. She’s been pinned beneath them while his magic cut into her mind. Some part of her thinks that she should be scared – but she isn’t. She has nothing to hide, not from him. If he hurts her, it will only be because she deserves it. She trusts, absolutely, that whatever he chooses will be right.

And he’s choosing to hold her.

He knows what they took from her and he still wants to hold her. She’s still worth something to him. She still deserves comfort.

Slowly, she’s able to stop putting voice to the apologies.

The tears take longer to stop. She sobs long enough and hard enough that she can scarcely breathe through the stabbing pain of her broken ribs. Anders doesn’t let go. His hand rubs gently up and down the back of her head, not pausing, not changing pace, until the sobs tail off gradually into sniffles, until the shaking stops and at last even the tears run dry and Ari starts to almost fall asleep on his shoulder.

She startles a little when he moves. “You’re okay,” he tells her gently. His hand on her arm guides her to sit up, and reluctantly she does. “Let’s get out of here, shall we? Alex will have my head if I don’t bring you back soon.” Ari nods, perhaps a little too sharply. She wants to ask how Alex is. If he’s been hurt, if he’s been overusing his magic, if he’s okay. She wants to ask about Taryn, and Peyroux, and everyone else.

But she can’t find the words. There are none in her head. All of the energy has drained out of her with the tears, leaving her exhausted and empty, thin and grey and dried up inside.

Reyan closes the door on her and lets himself into the driver’s seat, and Ari sits silent and passive in the back where he left her.

His driving isn’t kind on her back where her weight presses it against the seat. But even the pain feels somehow irrelevant, faded and far away like everything else. The world slips past outside the window. Ari’s gaze slides aimlessly over the buildings but she doesn’t see any of it, and she doesn’t think anything at all.

[Next]

#my writing #verse: resistance #unlikely salvation #ariadne milonas #dev #anders reyan #comf?#comf???#once in a blue moon I am nice to my characters

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marauderundercover · 3 years ago

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Taking Chances Ch. 21: Apologies (Father’s Day)

AO3

Marinette purses her lips as she looks at the neatly wrapped package in her hand. She knew she should still give it to her dad, shouldn’t let her hurt over the Gala stop her from celebrating Father’s Day with him for the first time. She’d already gotten confirmation from her Maman that her present for her Papa had arrived. So that was taken care of. A small part of her, the petty part, wanted to use Kaalki and go back to Paris for Father’s Day. But she also didn’t want to hurt her dad, no matter how much he’d hurt her. She had to be better than that, she is Ladybug after all. Sighing, she drops the present onto her bed. Grabbing the rest of what she needed for a movie night at one of Jason’s safe houses, she rushes out of her room. She knew that her dad’s conversation with Superman in the Batcave wouldn’t last too long, and then he’d be looking for her and Damian to lecture the hell out of them. Unfortunately for him, neither of them planned to be around to listen to it.

“Got everything Pixie Pop?” Jason asks as she rushes down the last of the steps, barely stopping herself from falling. She quickly balances herself and shoots her brother a small grin.

“Yup. Let’s go before I can get grounded.” She says, rushing past him and out the door, grinning as she hears his loud cackles behind her. It will get better. She’d talk to her dad eventually, and shove the bad feelings away. But she was going to let herself mope for another day. After all, letting herself feel negative emotions was part of the reason her parents agreed to let her stay in Gotham for the summer.

---

“What do you mean there’s an entire movie about you and Cat boy?” Jason asks, shoving another cookie in his mouth. Marinette shrugs.

“I mean we have a movie. It’s not my favorite, it’s kind of ridiculous. None of it is accurate. Except, Adrien did voice Chat Noir for the movie...still not sure why he thought that was a good idea.” She says, thinking back to the original premiere of the movie and all of the drama that came with it.

“Well shit. He’s not the brightest kid, is he?” Jason asks with a snort. Marinette opens her mouth to argue, then remembers some of Adrien’s….less brilliant moments. Okay, so maybe he’s not perfect.

“Ya know, we were once cast as Ladybug and Chat Noir in a music video.” She says, snorting at the look on Jason’s face.

“You’ve gotta be kidding. Really? Kid, please tell me you didn’t go through with it.” He says, looking mildly distressed. Marinette just rolls her eyes.

“No, we didn’t. The concept for the video changed and so no more hero costumes. I was terrified though. Kept losing the mask on purpose ��cause I was convinced the mask would be what gave it away.” She admits with a small laugh.

“Ya know, that’s almost as bad as the time that someone at WE thought it’d be a good idea to enter B in a Batman look alike contest. Sent in his photo and everything.” Jason says with a snort. Marinette’s jaw drops.

“Wait, really?” She asks. He nods.

“Yup. But that’s not the best part.” He says. Her eyebrows furrowed together. What could possibly be better- Oh. No, oh my-

“He lost, didn’t he!” She cheers, laughing at Jason’s huge smile.

“Of course he did! You didn’t really think Brucie Wayne could ever be THE Batman, did you?” He asks with a smirk.

“Who entered him?” Marinette asks, kind of assuming that Jason did it with Tim’s computer.

“No one could ever prove anything, but Lucius Fox couldn’t stop smiling for weeks after it happened.” Jason says.

“No way, Lucius Fox? Oh my god!” She starts laughing again, the negative feelings from earlier almost completely gone. Disappeared. Times like these, she was beyond relieved that she wasn’t an only child anymore. She doesn’t know how she’d ever function again without her brothers and Cass.

---

Bruce takes a deep breath before knocking on Marinette’s door. He’d spent some time talking to Clark in an attempt to calm down. He still couldn’t believe his two youngest children had gone to the Watchtower without permission...well, he could believe that Damian went. But not Marinette. And then there was her attitude towards him at the Tower. Her posture was very Damian, but her words and tone were very much Jason. He couldn’t decide if he was glad that they were bonding, or frustrated with the way his sons were corrupting his daughter. Not hearing an answer on the other side of the door, he knocks again.

“If?” He says. Alfred nods.

“Marinette, I know you’re angry, but shutting yourself away in your room is not the answer. I’ll give you ten more minutes, but then we need to talk about your behavior today.” He says, nodding to himself. That sounded good. That was right, right?

“I’m certain that wouldn’t work on Miss Marinette even if she was in her room, Master Bruce.” Alfred says, giving him an unimpressed look. Bruce’s eye twitches.

“Indeed, sir. It seems that Miss Marinette will not be sleeping at the manor tonight.” He says, turning to walk away.

“And I’m assuming you know where she is?” Bruce says, doubting that Alfred will actually give up her location. He’d definitely been picking the kids’ side the last two weeks or so. It was different, and he wasn’t fond of the change.

“Of course I do, sir.” Alfred says, raising an eyebrow in a silent challenge.

“Will you tell me where she is?” He asks, trying hard not to huff when Alfred shakes his head.

“Of course not, sir.” He says before walking away. Right. So she wasn’t sleeping at the manor, but she was safe. If she wasn’t, Alfred would have told him where she was. He mentally runs through a list of possible places she could be. Dick’s apartment, one of Jason’s safe houses, the Siren’s apartment, Paris- He pales as he realizes that she could definitely be in Paris. Was she really so upset that she would go back to Paris? Would she ever come back if she left? He lets out an uneven breath. He messed up. He messed up and now she was going to go back to Paris and she’d never talk to him again. Unless- maybe she didn’t. Swallowing the guilt that appears at the thought, he pushes her door open. If she had left for Paris, she would’ve taken everything with her. The sight of her clothes and sewing supplies still scattered around the room makes him breathe a sigh of relief. She hadn’t left Not yet. He’s about to walk out when an envelope on her bed catches his eye. Frowning, he walks over and picks it up, ‘Dad’ written on it in neat cursive. Now standing by her bed, he realizes there’s also a neatly wrapped package (Batman wrapping paper) on it. He smiles, then glances back at the envelope. He opens it, smiling at the art on the cardstock. It was clearly Marinette’s art, but he was confused why it was addressed to him.

‘Dad, I just wanted to let you know that I’m so happy you’re my Dad, and I’m so glad that I got to meet you. Finding out that I was adopted was a little scary, but you’ve made sure I’ve been okay through it all. Happy Father’s Day! Love, Marinette’

Bruce blinks. She was scared. If he had to guess, she was most likely scared that the family wouldn’t accept her. They’d been getting along so well, until the Gala mistake. Until he’d decided for her. Assumed she wouldn’t want to go to the Gala. And now she didn’t even want to stay at the manor tonight, and she was angry enough earlier to throw a chair at him. He pushes a hand through his hair, cursing lowly under his breath. He had to fix this.

---

A sharp pounding at the door makes Jason leap off the couch. He holds up a finger and gestures for Marinette to hide. No one should be here. No one else knows which of his safe houses he was at today. Grabbing a gun, he walks over, glancing through the peephole. He scoffs.

“Get the fuck outta here Bruce.” He calls through the door, watching Marinette as she immediately tenses as if she’s gonna run. He shakes his head at her. She didn’t have to run, he sure as hell wouldn’t open the door if she didn’t want him to.

“Jason, open the door. I need to talk to Marinette.” Bruce calls, Jason snorts.

“Yeah, not gonna happen B.” He says.

“I would like to apologize to her.” Bruce says. Jason blinks. That’s new. Did the old man finally figure out that fuck ups warrant apologies? He glances over at Marinette, raising an eyebrow. It was her call. The unsure look on her face almost makes him decide for her. Almost. The kid’d had enough of people deciding shit for her.

“Let him in.” She says. He opens the door, glaring at the man.

“Is it okay if he comes in?” She whispers, and Jason nods.

“Up to you kiddo.” He whispers back. She stands taller, pushing her shoulders back before nodding.

“She’s the one who let you in. Don’t fuck this up.” He warns before stepping aside and letting Bruce walk in.

“Marinette.” He says, nodding at her. Jason groans. Yeah, B was totally gonna fuck this up.

“Father.” She says, shifting so that her arms are crossed, a neutral expression on her face. God, he really hopes her mimicking Demon Spawn is just a phase.

“I would like to preface this conversation by letting you know I went into your room.” Bruce says. Marinette just raises an eyebrow. Yeah, Jason wasn’t seeing the connection either. “I apologize for invading your privacy like that, Damian has definitely reminded me several times that your personal rooms are not to be messed with. However, when Alfred let me know you weren’t sleeping at the manor tonight, I was worried that perhaps you had gone back to Paris.”

“I wouldn’t have gone back without telling you. Well, other than akuma attacks. Do you really think I’d do something like that?” She asks, frowning.

“I know that I’ve done things I’m not proud of when hurt. Things that I came to regret. And I saw earlier today how hurt you actually are. I didn’t realize-” He pauses. “I also read the card that was on your bed.”

“What! No, that was- that was for Father’s Day.” She says with a sigh.

“I didn’t open the gift. I originally thought the envelope would have a note from you on where you had gone. Or that you never wanted to see me again. I thought the chances were pretty even.” He says and Jason snorts.

“Oh, okay. Wait, why would you ever think that? Yes, I was hurt. I still am hurt, if I’m being honest. But I don’t want to cut you out of my life.” She says, shaking her head.

“Nor do I want you out of ours.” Bruce says. Marinette blinks. “I realize now what it must have looked like, to you. Not informing you about the Gala, taking the rest of the family. It was, admittedly, not my best moment. I made a decision for you when I should’ve asked you what you wanted. You could have even come with us as MDC, but I took that option away from you. I am very sorry, Marinette. I am glad that you’re my daughter, sweetheart.” He says and Jason blinks. Well shit. The old man did have feelings. Too bad no one would ever believe him if he tried to say something about it. He watches as the tension in Marinette’s body drops almost instantly before she runs over and launches herself at Bruce. She wraps her arms around him and Jason can see the way her body shakes. Bruce just stands there, staring down at the top of her head in shock.

“You wrap your arms around her.” Jason snarks. Bruce blinks before listening, returning Marinette’s hug. Well, they were still dysfunctional as hell, but at least now he’d be able to take Pixie Pop to the manor without feeling like an asshole brother.

---

Marinette bounces nervously in her seat as she watches her brothers hand her dad presents. She’s shocked when Jason hands over a small gift, knowing that the two’s relationship wasn’t….great. She leans forward in anticipation, watching and waiting to see what he’d picked out.

“Thank you, Jason. Clark will never let me live this down.” Her dad says, the fondness in his tone not matching the frown on his face. He turns the box around and the room erupts in laughter. Somehow, Jason had found a company that made customizable bobbleheads. The body was probably just a stock body, dressed in civilian clothes with a superman suit peaking through the shirt. And the head, the head was hilarious. It was very obviously crafted to look like their dad, specifically with his ‘Brucie Wayne’ smile. It was awful and amazing at the same time.

“I think Jaybird wins best gift.” Dick says with a grin.

“Tt. Unlikely. The new katana that Cass and I gave him is obviously superior.” Damian says, crossing his arms.

“I don’t know Damian, I still haven’t given him my present.” She points out, grinning at the slight frown on Damian’s face.

“While I doubt your present could be better than mine, there is no doubt it will be better received than Todd’s.” Damian says. Marinette snorts at the look on Jason’s face.

“Listen Demon Spawn, there’s this thing called humor. That’s what my gift had. I know you wouldn’t know anything about humor, so let me explain it to you.” He starts, and Marinette jumps in to cut him off before they can start arguing. It was Father’s Day, the least they could do is avoid fighting with each other for a couple more hours.

“And this one’s from me.” She says, passing him the present wrapped in Batman wrapping paper. She grins as Tim and Dick both laugh, not having seen it before now.

“I think Mari might win just ‘cause of the paper.” Tim admits, taking a large drink of his iced coffee that Marinette had picked up for him. She’d had to fight an akuma right before they started presents, so she’d stopped and got Tim coffee from the shop that he’d tried when they’d all been in Paris. She watches in anticipation as her dad carefully unwraps the box, opening it and pulling out the black suit jacket. He smiles at her.

“Did you make this? It’s amazing.” He says, and her brothers nod in agreement (though Damian does so reluctantly).

“Look at the inside of it.” She says, gesturing for him to unfold it. His eyebrow twitches, but he does as she says. She watches his face for the moment he spots it, and grins when his face drops into a wide smile. On the inside of the left side of the jacket, she’d added a breast pocket. It wasn’t really for anything though. Instead, it was so that she could embroider all of his children’s names in a way so that it would rest above his heart. The jacket also had tiny bat logos embroidered at the cuffs of the jacket. The thread was shiny and very dark so that it would barely show up against the black of the jacket. It had to be lit just right to see it, but as he tilted the jacket again, she knew he saw it. It had taken longer than suit jackets normally do for her, but it was because she knew that it had to be perfect. It was, after all, the first piece of clothing she’d made for her dad.

“It’s perfect, Marinette.” He says softly, running a hand over the names. She lets out a sigh of relief before smiling at him. Things were still a little rough, but they were so much better than they’d been the night of the Gala. She was glad that she had stayed, that she hadn’t ran like she had so badly wanted to.

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @trippingovermyfeet @mizzy-pop @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82 @lady-bee-fechin

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moonbeam-mothling · 3 years ago

Text

The first chapter of the story I’ve been working on!!! Mina, a borrower, needs to figure some way out of a large aquarium before the apartment’s human occupant returns.

———————————————————

Fishtank Ch1

Mina couldn’t be called a practiced swimmer, but at least she could manage to keep her head above water. Falling into the frigid, smelly goldfish water had been quite a rude shock, Mina normally running on the warmer side. Not helping matters, the human’s “AC unit” was blowing, causing shivering waves of goosebumps while Mina tried to calm her mind enough to figure someway out. She couldn’t waste time or energy considering the other possible outcomes to her situation, knowing the human who lived in this particular apartment shouldn’t be back for a while.

She looked up, shaking pond-like water out of her face and blowing to prevent any from getting in her mouth. The water level in the aquarium was too low for her to reach the rim. The LED light glaring above her, she averted her gaze to assess her surroundings.

By then the three fancy goldfish residing in the gargantuan aquarium had noticed her, proceeding to gently peck and nibble toothlessly at her body below water. Under better circumstances, Mina would have been delighted to get such a close look at the beautiful creatures; dancing like butterflies, their long flowing fins streaming like showy scarves. The fish were each larger than a chicken’s egg, but not large enough to be a threat to the borrower, though she was far from eager to learn this firsthand.

Bubbles about the size of Mina’s fist burst from the water surface not far from her in a constant flurry, threatening to splatter water into her eyes and mouth. The plastic tubing of the bubbler was the closest thing for Mina to grab onto, struggling to keep any kind of grip due to a healthy coating of algae. No chance Mina could pull herself out like this, she thought as she readjusted her boot the goldfish had managed to loosen. Fortunately for Mina, borrowers tend to avoid wearing anything too flashy, not wishing to attract unwanted eyes; a tactic proving just as affective for fish as with humans.

Looking around, her only other options were the filter and a thin, leafy plant cutting growing out and over the aquarium’s edge. Unfortunately these were both on the other end of the fishtank, a far swim for any borrower. At least the goldfish relented some, now only picking at Mina’s person every now and then. Swimming as best as she could, Mina opted to try her luck climbing the plant growing over the aquarium side. Passing the filter, Mina got the impression it would be more difficult to climb than the bubbler tubing, judging by the sheer plastic covered with shades of green up to where the highest water level normally covers.

Reaching the base of the plant cutting, Mina clung gratefully to the branching stems, catching her breath and shivering with cold; shuddering as the fine roots brushed against her skin below the water. She found her movements were slightly stiffened from the chilly water, but she realized that now the water felt much warmer compared to the air conditioned room.

The plant cutting grew out in short, straight sections, maybe as thick as Mina’s wrist, zigzagging together like a lattice. No surprise, the plant’s stalk was slippery, though mercifully not so much that Mina didn’t think she had a shot of climbing out. Adding in its many purple-striped leaves, she was feeling hopeful her ordeal would soon be through. Hanging on with a death grip Mina began pulling herself out of the water, taking great care to mind how she put her weight on each section of plant she stepped on or held on to.

Hand, hand; foot, foot.

Mina mentally repeated her climbing process, willing herself to keep steady as she shook with cold. The further out of the water she got, the more the frigid air found purchase on her already chilled, wet form, hair dripping and further renewing her want for warmth.

Hand, hand; foo-!!!

The plant segment bearing most of her weight snapped in half, suddenly throwing her balance and losing her grip. Purely by instinct Mina barely managing to hold her breath before plummeting back-first into the water, the angle of impact nearly knocking the air from her lungs. Below the surface she was met by the rushing current of the filter outflow, pushing to keep her down. All Mina could think was to get to the surface, fighting against the force spinning her like a bug stuck in a stream.

Mina broke the water surface at last, gasping to catch her breath and get air to her brain. Back at the surface and clear of the filter’s outflow, she was grateful for a helpful current now gently leading her towards lily pads the size of whole potato chips. None were sturdy enough to support her full weight, but she clung to the round, green and red leaves none the less. Exhausted, Mina propped herself up on a particularly large leaf, laying on it like a life raft, all too eager for a rest.

——

“The fuck??”

Mina jolted to foggy conscious, needing a second to remember where she was. She saw the vibrantly mottled lily pad that kept her afloat, the twinkling reflections from the LED lights on the water’s surface. Shivering still, Mina’s teeth chattered and she could feel her hairs above water standing on end, and… the back of her knee itched? Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no. She remembered why she’d startled awake, panic rising in the pit of her guts before even turning to look.

Two giant brown eyes, each one bigger than Mina’s whole head, met level with her own stare through the slightly water-stained glass. Mostly submerged, Mina was chilled to begin with, but unable to tear her gaze from the colossal human’s, her insides felt frozen solid. Heartbeat drumming in her chest and pounding in her skull, Mina struggled to keep her breathing under control. Maybe then her brain would function normally again.

The two stared at each other for what felt like an unbearably long time, at least to Mina, but she was too petrified to look away. The giant eyes were hard and almost restless, attempting to comprehend what they were seeing. The human opened their mouth slightly, but emitted no articulate words, only broken snippets of speech from a buffering brain.

The spell was broken at last when a goldfish fin grazed Mina’s leg and gave her a start. All three goldfish were swimming in front of the human in a graceful, braiding sort of dance.

“Um-“

The enormous person trailed off, standing and shifting position so he was looking at the borrower from above. Shaking, Mina had to shield her eyes from the LED aquarium light, but tried to keep her sights locked on the human. Her gigantic counterpart raised a hand larger than the borrower, but paused with it hanging over the aquarium edge. Mina’s panic renewed, her eyes now jumping between the hand and its owner’s difficult to read face.

“.. Uh…”

The human trailed off and gave a small huff. Their thick, bushy brows knitting together and they clenched their jaw. Very, very slowly the huge hand lowered into the water, enormous gaze mindful of her reactions, almost questioning if she was fine with every increment they reached closer. Mina couldn’t think, much less breathe, tensing as the large fingers maneuvered between her and the lily pad, but oh! The contact was SO WARM, and Mina was chilled to the bone. She was embarrassed how readily she clung to the giant hand, but thoroughly too desperate for warmth to pull away as she was lifted out.

“Shit, you’re freezing…” the deep voice remarked quietly, Mina able to feel the sound regardless. Suddenly the human’s other hand came into view, thumb and pointer finger extended towards the borrower. All Mina could manage was to shut her eyes and brace for the worst. Instead she felt a vaguely familiar sensation, realizing the human was removing aquarium snails from her person and plunking them back in with the goldfish. The human gently adjusted their grip on her, making sure the borrower was snail-free.

Out of the water the air conditioning bit at Mona’s drenched form, prompting her into a shivering ball. The world tilted as the hand holding Mina elevated her to the human’s collarbone, positioning their hand around her in a gentle embrace of warmth. Any semblance of coherent thought left Mina’s mind, suddenly enveloped in warmth. The steady sound of the human’s breathing, the soft beat of a heart larger than herself, it was all certainly overwhelming and quite more than enough to lull Mina to sleep after what she’d been through…

#mina #my oc #borrowersona #borrowers #g/t community #g/t #borrower #giant/tiny #giant tiny #my ocs #oc #my writing #fishtank #chapter 1 #ch1

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definitelynotsuzumi · 4 years ago

Text

Zapped to Another World

Genshin Impact x Fem!Reader

I wrote this in my spare time when I was working back in November and thought that I should share this ^-^

Depending on the comments/notes and if I have spare time, I may be updating this.

[Masterlist]

The rain poured down your umbrella. The clouds coloured the sky a dark grey as you ran for the bus. You sighed as you reached the traffic light. Yup, you were definitely not going to be able to catch it now.

School had ended for the year, which meant more free time for you and the new game you had recently gotten into. Genshin Impact.

You could not help but smile at the thought of it. With school out of the picture, you could finally focus on the game completely. There was so many things to do. Farming for artifacts, completing your daily commissions…

You sloshed your way over as the lights turned green. While you love that school is out, you honestly hated the wet weather that came with the winter break and the feeling of wet socks on your feet. After safely crossing the road, you winced as a white truck rushed by, soaking your clothes through as the giant puddle you have been trying to avoid poured onto your skirt and legs.

You let out a sigh as you quickly took shelter under a tree nearby to try and wring out the remaining water when it happened.

“Just my luck…”You muttered as you clumsily balanced your umbrella, “Can it get any worse?”

Just as those words left your lips, it happened. A white flash lit the sky for a brief second. But it was too late. Thousands of volts came cascading upon your body and everything turned white.

“This is your fault.” You heard a voice. It sounded like a young, sulky boy.

“How is this my fault? You’re the one who lashed out when I put down that +4 card down.”

“THAT AIN’T FAIR STILL! I WAS SO CLOSE TO WINNING AND YOU BLEW IT!”

“Uh…What’s going on?” You blinked as your vision settled. You sat in what looked like a library of sorts, with several shelves lining the walls and a long white and gold marble table in the centre of it all. A girl with long, platinum hair glared down at her male counterpart, who huffed in annoyance.

“How about you explain it to her, Artem.”

“Sorry, but I don’t speak to cheaters.”

“Oh for gods sake- fine. We apologize for uhm…Killing you. Truly, a thousand apologies. If only someone can control their temper for once in their life-“ The girl shot a dirty look at Artem.

“LIKE YOU ARE ONE TO TALK! SOLARIA, YOU SINGED MY EYEBROWS OVER KILLING YOU IN AMONG US!”

“Well excuse you! My anger was perfectly justified! You voted me out even when I told you the truth and that I was innocent!”

“DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT WAS TO EMBROIDER AND GROOM THEM BACK TO NORMAL AGAIN?”

“Could you guys please stop fighting for 10 seconds?” You yelled over the noise. The girl and boy finally stopped, leaving you to rub at your ringing ears.

You sighed. Kids were always a handful back in your home. You had to take care of your cousins whenever your aunt was over, and it often resulted with your ears ringing and your head pounding.

“What’s done is done. I’m…well, dead and I seriously have no idea where I am.” You said, trying to stay composed.

“Well…In your human terms, this is kind of like the After Life.” The boy, Artem explained, sighing as he put down his Uno cards.

“Or well, it shouldn’t since…You were supposed to live for like, another 50 to 60 years. But someone messed it up.” The girl, Solaria, summoned a book from a shelf. You blinked as a weathered leather book with gilded, golden pages floated down onto the table.

“Shut up. I said that I was sorry, didn’t I?” Artem groaned.

“Sir Artem, are you losing your braincells? I was the one who apologized. You still owe the human an apology.” Solaria bit back icily.

With a wave of her hand, the pages of the book flipped and she studied it carefully for a minute before looking back up.

“Well, as a soul now, you have an option. You can go into Elysium or be reincarnated.” Solaria sighed as Artem huffed again.

“Huh. What do you know? Elysium sounds real good right about now-“You thought out loud as Artem’s eyes turned wide with fear.

“Please don’t go into Elysium!” Artem yelled. The books shook in the shelves as his voice echoed.

“Ow, inside voice please? Hasn’t your mother taught you better?” You winced in pain. It seems that immortals had a throat of steel, judging from the way they could shout infinitely.

“I’m really sorry, but if Dad finds out I brought in another human because I accidentally killed them…He’s going to banish me…To Earth…” Artem looked down onto the table.

He was unable to meet your eyes as you stared at him with bemusement.

“Yeah, as much as I hate to say it, please…Reconsider on our offer to reincarnate. He is on thin ice with Father and if he is banished, I’d have to take on his duties as well. I’m pretty exhausted with the workload as it is.” Solaria sighed.

“As long as it’s not Earth, I’m cool with it.” You looked up at the ceiling, which took your breath away. The entire solar system was on it. With it, was the familiar sphere of white, green and blue.

“Hm, that is easy enough. I could reincarnate you into my world.” Artem brightened up.

Solaria sighed with relief.

“And to make up for it, I could buff you up with a couple of blessings here and there-“

“Within reason.” Solaria cut in, with a sharp look at Artem.

“Psssh, as if it’s hard to make a Gnosis.” Artem had considerably relaxed after hearing your statement.

“Are you serious? Don’t you even know the situation down at Teyvat?!” Your eyes widened. Were they talking about what you were thinking of?

Artem rose to his feet, the ivory wings on his lower back flaring. His eyes gleamed gold as he stared down his sister.

“It’s my world. I do what I like with it. If you don’t like it, get a world of your own.”

“You only got your world because Mother took pity on you. Don’t act all big when you have killed so many humans.” Solaria hummed, rolling her eyes.

“I’ll only grant this human the bare minimum. Anything more, and I’ll let Father know of your deeds thus far, even if it means more work for me.” Solaria glared back. Her eyes gleamed silver as she did so. You felt a shiver run down your spine.

“That’s all that I’ll need then. Work on your blessings and gifts. I’ll work on mine.” Artem turned away from his sister. The siblings set to work, the atmosphere of ice cold professionalism now in the air.

Solaria rose from her place on the table. With a flick of a finger, the Uno cards vanished with a burst of gold sparkles. The leather book floated beside her as she constantly referred to its pages while flying around the room.

“Hmm…Not much of a combatant, I see. Polearms and swords will probably be hard for you. Perhaps…A catalyst?” She pulled out a bright blue book adorned in gold, with feathers sticking out.

Blowing off any dust from the beautiful book, she casually tossed it over her shoulder and onto you. You instinctively brought your arms up to protect your face but as the book hit your arms, it disappeared into a burst of gold.

“Huh?” You blinked as you saw the book reappear beside you, its pages flipping.

Solaria returned with a satchel and a bag of gold coins. Looking satisfied as she noticed the book beside you, she inserted the bag of coins into the satchel before sliding it over your shoulder. Solaria hummed to herself before smiling again.

Reaching behind her neck, Solaria detached a shimmering teardrop necklace before slipping it around yours.

“There’s nothing special about it, apart from it glowing. I thought it would be a nice touch.” Solaria winked at you.

Tilting your chin up, you froze with shock as she pressed her lips against yours.

“WHAT WAS THAT FOR?” You felt heat rush to your cheeks.

“Oh, please. Don’t be flustered. That was merely a blessing of mine. It will help you when you need to speak with the natives of the land.” Solaria coolly said as she wiped her mouth.

You were still reeling in shock. Your throat seemed to tighten as you coughed.

“..Thank you, for agreeing with us on our selfish request. To be forcibly stripped of our powers can be the worst pain and humiliation a god or goddess can bear.” Solaria murmured to you as she hurried to the end of the room, where she knelt and seemed to draw symbols in gold.

You held back your tongue. ‘What about me? I got zapped to death here.’ You thought to yourself.

“It is done. Please step into that summoning circle there.” Artem held a floating, golden cylinder in his hands. Solaria rose from her place on the floor, gesturing for you to come over.

It was a Gnosis! You were quick to obey as you hurried to Solaria’s side.

Stepping into the centre, you turned to face Artem and Solaria, who stood side by side. They flared their wings as you sensed an energy swirl around you.

“I, Artem, God of the Moon, grant you passage and dominion over my world, Teyvat. Do you accept, (Y/N) (L/N)?” Artem’s voice echoed in your ears.

“I accept.” As the words left your lips, the Gnosis within his hands flew into your chest. You gasped as it did so, a heat spreading rapidly across your chest.

“Be safe on your travels, (Y/N) (L/N).” Solaria flashed a warm smile as you coughed.

“Resigno!”

The gold summoning circle glowed bright blue and you found yourself falling through the blue skies.

You screeched ungracefully as you fell from the sky headfirst. The green grass was coming up way too fast.

‘Am I going to die again?’ You thought as you held out your arms to break your fall, only for a huge gust of wind to cushion your fall.

“Huh?” You blinked in surprise as a person clad in green floated beside you.

It was a young boy with 2 braids, which gleamed blue in the light. His eyes were a beautiful mix of green and blue.

‘Venti?’ You gaped as he grabbed your hands and guided you back onto the ground.

“Never thought I’d have an audience during my practice session. Are you okay?” Venti grinned at you.

“Never...Never better. Thank you...”You gave a thumbs up as you got air back into your lungs again.

His deft fingers plucked at his harp as he sat down on the soft grass.

“It’s no problem. But what brings you here anyways? Not many people know of this spot.” Venti tilted his head. It seemed as though you uncovered his secret place.

“I- uh well...Accidents happen. I’m not a mad fan or a stalker, I swear. Well, maybe I am a fan but still.” You rambled but you forced yourself to stop talking and to breath. Venti is real and he is in front of me. Venti is real and he is in front of me.

Your heart was beating fast.

‘I should say something smart, introduce myself or something.’ You thought to yourself as you composed yourself.

You wanted to at least tell him your name but the words are out faster than you can stop them.

“Wanna grab a drink?”

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