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queenshelby · 1 year ago

Text

Chemical Reactions (P. 18)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy as J Robert Oppenheimer x Student Reader

Warning: Age-Gap, Infidelity, Smut, Torture

Words: 2,566

Note: The fic is spoiler free and my own fantasy and imagination. It is not historically and scientifically accurate.

In the dimly lit labyrinth of the laboratory, the brilliant minds congregated in solitude, their shadows dancing along the walls as they delved deep into the secrets of science. The atmosphere was thick with tension and secrecy, as each scientist knew that their work held the key to unleashing the destructive power of the atom.

As you sat there, lost in thought, trying to comprehend the magnitude of our endeavours, you felt a sudden chill run down your spine that day, feeling as though something was not right.

Little did you know that the universe was aligning against you, and you were soon to be caught up in a sinister web of deceit and betrayal.

Without warning, armed guards burst into the laboratory, their faces grim and unforgiving. Their commander, Officer Pash, followed closely behind them, his eyes burning with intensity. With a coldness that froze your very core, he commanded your arrest without ever revealing his intentions. Before you could say anything, you were whisked away, leaving behind a trail of uncertainty.

"Excuse me. This hasn't been cleared with Dr Oppenheimer, has it? She can't just leave, we have work to do," a fellow scientist argued, being the only one who was at the laboratory with you this morning while the others, from adjacent facilities, watched on as you struggled against the handcuffs that had been placed on you.

"Don't worry sir, Dr. Oppenheimer knows about this," the officer reassured calmly. "He approved the arrest," he continued on, and the scientist hesitated for a moment before looking over to where you and the officer were.

In that brief instant, a silent communication passed between you two as you shook your head.

"He doesn't know. He wouldn't have agreed to have me arrested like this," you told your colleague who gave you a nod of understanding.

A mixture of sorrow and confusion played out across his face as he saw your handcuffed wrists, understanding that you were no longer free to continue working together. You turned back to look at him once more, offering a subtle nod and a faint smile, begging him, without words, to see Robert.

***

"Can you tell me what this is about?" you asked calmly as Officer Pash led you through the labyrinthine corridors, past numerous other scientists, some recognising you but most likely unaware of the situation unfolding around them.

"Shut up and keep walking. You will find out soon enough,"

Pash replied curtly, making sure to keep his voice low so as not to attract unwanted attention. His firm grip on your arm ensured that you remained close by as you walked through the dimly lit corridors all the way to a vehicle where a bag was placed over your head. The sense of unease continued to grow inside you, filling your chest with an overwhelming heaviness.

The journey took far longer than you anticipated, taking a long drive followed by a walk through several mazes of concrete hallways and sterile rooms filled with equipment, all eerily devoid of life save for the flickering fluorescent lights casting eerie shadows upon the walls.

Each step you took brought you closer to the unknown destination while dread continued to build within your chest, threatening to break loose and consume you entirely. Your heart raced, palms sweating as your body seemed to be alive with anxiety. The constant pounding of your heart thumped in your ears, drowning out even the sound of Officer Pash's heavy boots.

Your thoughts kept drifting back to Robert, thinking that there would have been no way that he agreed to this, knowing that you were pregnant with his child.

You knew he cared deeply for you, yet still, he never said a word about any impending arrests or investigations. Was this Officer Pash lying? Had someone else informed him of your relationship with Robert and manipulated the situation?

Your head swam with these questions as the bag was removed from your head, and you found yourself in a cold, brightly lit room filled with rows of filing cabinets. The harsh fluorescent lighting cast harsh shadows on the walls, making it feel as if you were trapped in a nightmare.

Your mind raced with possibilities, attempting to piece together the reason for your abduction. You wondered how Robert would react when he discovered you missing. Would he think you had abandoned him? Or would he suspect foul play and search for you relentlessly?

Just as you began to lose hope and despair, Officer Pash re-entered the room, closing the door behind him. He approached you silently, his shadow stretching across the floor like a dark tendril. His presence made your skin crawl.

His cold gaze bore into yours, seemingly capable of seeing straight through your soul. A wave of terror coursed through your veins, causing your heart to race wildly in your chest. Officer Pash approached you slowly, methodically, moving with calculated precision. The space between you felt almost tangible, an invisible barrier that both repelled and drew you toward him simultaneously. Your breath caught in your throat, your hands trembling with fear and anticipation. His proximity alone made you feel exposed, vulnerable, and utterly defenceless against whatever intentions he may hold.

His presence was suffocating, engulfing you in a darkness that threatened to devour your very essence. Your legs quivered beneath you, your body trembling with fear and anticipation as Officer Pash moved ever closer.

"Someone has leaked information to the Soviets," he stated coldly, his eyes boring into yours.

"If you are suggesting that I have ties with the communists, then you are mistaken. I am loyal to the project and the development of the gadget," you answered, desperately trying to maintain your composure despite the mounting fear and panic inside you.

Officer Pash raised an eyebrow, a sceptical glint in his eye.

"Then why did I find these documents hidden beneath your bed?" he asked, and you bit your lip, uncertain how to respond.

"I didn't put these there. I don't even have access to these files,"

you argued, your voice wavering slightly under the weight of your fear.

"But someone had to have taken them from Dr Oppenheimer's office and hid them there," Officer Pash countered, his tone unwavering. "And you were the last person seen with Dr. Oppenheimer before these went missing."

You felt your heart sink in your chest, knowing that the evidence against you appeared to be mounting.

"Dr Oppenheimer and I...," you began to say, your thoughts racing as you tried to come up with a plausible explanation. The air in the room became thick with the weight of your fear, your breath catching in your throat as you fought to regain control of your emotions.

"Dr Oppenheimer and you?" Officer Pash queried, unaware of your affair.

"Well, I... I don't know how those documents got there," you stammered, unable to meet Officer Pash's unwavering gaze. "It must be some sort of setup," you added, hoping to convince him of your innocence.

"Someone is trying to sabotage the project by framing me as a spy," you pointed out, but the Officer simply laughed.

"Frame you, out of all people at Los Alamos?"

Officer Pash scoffed, his scepticism evident in his tone. "This isn't some small operation you're involved in here. It's a top-secret government project, and you've somehow managed to get entangled in a dangerous game of espionage. Why is that?" he asked before leaning over the desk and reaching for your throat, pressing down tightly.

You let out a muffled cry as your world started to spin, everything going black for a split second. When you opened your eyes again, you found yourself bound to a chair, facing Officer Pash, who stood before you with a look of triumph etched on his face.

"Since you won't cough up the information I am after voluntarily, we will have to implement some measures to aid your compliance moving forward," he declared with a cruel grin.

"I prefer doing these things the Russian way," he then announced as the room fell silent, the weight of the situation pressing down on you with crushing force. Your heart raced, adrenaline flooding your system, leaving you feeling lightheaded and weak.

You tried to focus on your breathing, to stay present and alert amidst the rapidly escalating tension. As Officer Pash paced around the room, you could hear the sound of his boots echoing against the hard surface, creating an ominous rhythm that underscored the growing sense of danger surrounding you. His every movement seemed calculated, each step sending a shiver down your spine.

As the tension reached its peak, the silence between you grew almost deafening. Sweat dripped down your forehead, causing you to wipe it away with a trembling hand.

Your heart hammered in your chest, fear coursing through your veins. Officer Pash circled you, his eyes holding a calculating gleam. You could sense the power he held over you, a power that you could not match in this darkened room. Despite your attempt to remain composed, your voice shook with anxiety as you spoke. "Why would anyone want to frame me as a spy? I don't understand!" you cried and, without breaking his stride, Officer Pash chuckled darkly.

"Do you really expect me to believe that you are all innocent after what your father has been arrested for?" he stopped pacing, fixing you with a piercing gaze. "You see, I have no idea how you got clearance for a project like this in the first place," he paused, allowing the silence to fill the room.

As you struggled to maintain your composure, Officer Pash stepped towards you once more, his footfalls echoing against the hard floor, intensifying the feeling of being trapped in this darkened room. With each step, your heart raced faster, your breath became shallow. His eyes held a sinister glint, one that sent a shiver down your spine. He circled you, the intensity of his gaze causing your own to widen in fear.

"Let me tell you something," he whispered, his voice low and menacing. "We will get to the bottom of this, one way or another. Whether it takes hours, days, weeks…or even months."

The thought of spending endless days and nights in this dim, chilling room, subjected to Officer Pash's relentless interrogation, sent a fresh wave of terror surging through your veins.

"No, please!" you begged for mercy as Officer Pash brought another fabric bag and placed it over your head.

You gasped in fear, struggling to breathe as the sensation of suffocation consumed you, your heart racing with terror.

Pain exploded in your body as his strong hands bound your wrists tightly to the arms of the chair, restricting your movements and adding to your helplessness. Your mind raced with thoughts of escape, but the reality of your situation sank in: you were trapped, completely at his mercy.

You fought back tears, trying to maintain your composure, though your heart hammered wildly in your chest. "I can help you find the truth," you pleaded weakly, your voice hoarse from fear before. Suddenly, your head was being pulled back and cold water was poured over the sack covering your nose and mouth.

The shock of the unexpected sensation sent a jolt through your entire body, making you gasp for air. You felt like you were drowning.

He kept pouring water until you were soaking wet, yet still unable to breathe properly.

Your lungs burned with the struggle for air, and you felt your limbs tremble with exhaustion. In the midst of this torment, Officer Pash's words seeped into your consciousness like poison: "Don't worry. We'll figure out the truth together."

As you writhed helplessly in your bonds, a new wave of fear washed over you: not just for your safety but also for the secrets you carried within.

"Please," you gasped against the water bag, "please, stop!"

"I am...pregnant...please," you begged, your voice hoarse from fear and fatigue.

Officer Pash hesitated for a moment, seemingly struck by the revelation. "Interesting," he said, raising an eyebrow.

The room fell into a heavy silence as Officer Pash considered his next move. Finally, he removed the water bag from your head, the sudden release of pressure causing you to gasp for air.

"But irrelevant to me," he then said before pulling your head up again.

"Now, think about your child. You don't want to lose your child, do you?" Officer Pash challenged, his eyes boring into yours after he removed the wet bag from your head.

"What would you do if I told you that your child's future depended on your cooperation?" he then asked and you felt your stomach twist with fear, your heart pounding in your chest. "Anything," you replied, your voice cracking with emotion.

Officer Pash smiled, a cruel, taunting smile that sent a shiver down your spine. "Good," he murmured, stepping closer to you.

"Then take some time to reflect and, tomorrow, we will continue this little conversation. If you talk and give me some names, then I will ensure that you receive sufficient food and water, ensuring the survival of you both,"

Officer Pash suggested calmly, a coldness behind his eyes.

You swallowed hard, nodding your agreement while thinking furiously. This man had already threatened you physically and emotionally, and now your unborn child's life was at stake. "Alright," you agreed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He left you alone in the room, the darkness wrapping around you like a shroud. Your eyes adjusted to the faint light filtering through the windows, casting eerie shadows across the barren walls.

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hornyjorny · 1 year ago

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late night distractions

river ward x fem! v

summary: river decides he's finally had enough of the office, and decides to invite you over for a much needed break ;) an- i've literally been working on this for like. a fucking month by now lmao. anyway enjoy. will be posting more in the future warnings- smut (18+ mdni), soft dom river, sub!v, oral (f receiving) public s3x (whoops) , creampie, f!ngering, mild degradation, you are both horny gonks who desperately deserve a break, johnny is being annoying again

wc: 8k??? holy shit me wtf

In the darkness of his office, surrounded by stacks of paperwork and casefiles, all River Ward can bring himself to think about is you.

The room is silent save for the endless droning of the ceiling fan above, and the distant hum of the city beyond. The dim, flickering fluorescent lights cast long shadows that dance like phantoms, wrapping the room in an eerie solitude. Outside the office window, the neon lights of Night City painted a vibrant tapestry of chaos upon the lonely walls. Piles of unsolved mysteries loomed around him, their weight pressing down on his weary shoulders.

River Ward sits in front of his computer, hands poised on the keyboard. All he can do is mindlessly stare at the open file on the bright screen before him. He can’t focus like this.

He can’t stop thinking about you.

Truth is, River just misses you. He yearns for you like a junkie craves a fucking boost. The demands of his work as a private investigator in Night City have become a never-ending fucking acid trip, a labyrinth of dead-end leads, and goddamn conspiracy theories that seem to lead to jack shit.

It’s been a long fucking couple of weeks.

Sure, he knew becoming a private investigator in N.C. was no easy task—it’s what he’s signed up for, after all. But by fuck, he’s drowning in his work with little resolve. River can’t really complain about the pay, either. He’s actually starting out not-so bad— but fuck, he’s always busy. And when you live in a world where there’s a literal ticking time bomb in your girlfriend’s head, ready to go off at any moment, the last thing you wanna be is fucking busy. The demands of his work feel like a fucking all-consuming whirlwind, a never-ending shitstorm of new info that all leads to buttfuck nowhere. And worst of all, he just wants to be home with you, enjoying the little time you guys have left together.

He aches for the way he’s able to pull you in his big arms, missing the way you always get on your tippy-toes to reach in for a kiss, having to reach up for him just to reach his lips. What he truly craves more than anything else in the world is your presence— your infectious goddamn smile, your laughter, your soft and tender touch. But he can’t go anywhere. Not till he makes a break in the case, at least.

River's fingers hover over the keyboard, but as he tries to focus, the words blur into a goddamn kaleidoscope of nonsense. His work, his responsibilities—it all fades into the background, overshadowed by the overpowering sense of longing. He shifts his gaze from the computer to the neon-drenched shitshow beyond the window, the vibrant chaos of Night City. As he thinks of you, a goddamn tidal wave of longing washes over him, drowning out the relentless work-related bullshit that usually occupies his mind.

But fuck, as much as he tries to be respectful, he just also really misses fucking you. It drives him insane how easily you submit to him whenever you’re stuffed with his huge dick. River’s just enamored by your sweet, soft little muffled cries of pure pleasure while he overtakes your deadly cunt. He loves the way your shoulders tense up when he hits particularly deep, loves the way your little face twists and contorts with sheer pleasure, all weakened and already fucked out within minutes of him shoving himself in..

Shit. He can't take it anymore. The case can wait. He wants you, and he wants you now. No use heading home now, right?

It’s fuckin’ late, well past 12 AM.

…but it’s also when you happen to be out you’re usually out and about after a gig.

Why not give it a shot?

River’s heart aches a little as he pulls up your contact over the holo. He just really, really fucking misses you, and internally prays that you’ll pick up, even if just to hear the sound of voice for a little while. He just craves any semblance of you. With an unsteady breath, he finally calls.

The eerie ringing of the holodex against the silence of the night’s air was deafening. His chest raises, heart pounding, desperately hoping you’ll pick up.

But then, the call finally connects, and you’re greeting him with the biggest, most mischievous grin on your face. Fuck, hes glad you answered. “Shit, was just aboutta’ text you, you know. Been missing you, Detective..”

River's lips curl into a smile he couldn't hold back—relief washing over him at the sound of your voice. Hearing you admit that you missed him too made him damn-near light headed. He takes a steady, deep breath to prepare himself before he speaks.

“Been missing you more than just words can say, V," he finally replies, his voice laced with a blend of longing and affection. "I just needed to hear your voice. I miss you, you know. It's been... tough here without you lately. Still at the fuckin’ office, too..”

You can distinctively sense River’s distress, he looks exhausted, and you can’t help but to feel the pang of longing that fills your heart. You really did miss him too. But turns out River was right— you were actually out and about on one of your little hot-shot missions, and it so happened you were closeby. Your honest, original plan was to just catch up with your boyfriend, maybe stop by his place if he so happened to be up.

“You know what, River?" You reply, voice tone a mix of playfulness and genuine concern. "I've got news that might make your night a whole lot better.”

Well shit, now you’ve got him reeled in. “Was actually gonna ask you if I could stop by— Jus’ finished a gig not far from your place. Been thinkin’ about you a lot lately, Riv.”

Oh, fuck. What were the odds?

His heart starts to jump in his chest.

“I’m at the office right now,” He breathes quickly, voice dropping an octave as he whispers into the holo.“Would really love it if you wanna stop by..” He just sounds so fuckin’ soft, so needy, your heart melts a little bit.

“Be there in five, Detective.”

“Preem,” he smiles. “See ya then, V.”

When you walk through the door, River’s weary gaze shoots up from the mountains of papers scattered casefiles on his desk. His mechanical eye flickers a shade brighter— and he’s beaming. Fuck, he’s glad you showed. To him, you merged like an ephemeral beacon. His weary gaze, burdened by the weight of investigations, was abruptly lifted as it collided with your presence.

Before you had entered, the room was cast in an eerie quietness, illuminated solely by a dim desk lamp that struggled to push back the encroaching shadows. Beyond the window, the vibrant neons of the city painted a fractured mosaic on the walls, offering a glimpse of the relentless nightlife far below.

It felt kind of… lonely, almost. A heavy quietness hung in the air, broken only by the distant hum of the city, reminding River of the isolation that often accompanied his late-night work. Regardless, you skillfully navigate the precarious stacks of paperwork strewn like toppled skyscrapers across the floor to your boyfriend.

"V," he breathed, his voice a low rasp of longing, "you have no idea how good it is to see you right now.”

Before you could make it into his arms, your digital companion materializes before you, the air around him fracturing into millions of tiny blue shards, peering over River’s shoulder, aviators raised downwards.

“Things are lookin’ rough for Detective Dumbass,” he pauses, looking back up to you, a smug grin plastered across his face. “…Looks like there’s something other than work on his mind. Better come let your dog off the leash before he snaps.”

You internally groan. And so it begins. You shoot Johnny a look— before you turn back to River.

“Guess I can say the same to you, Riv..” You sigh with a smile, reaching out to tenderly touch his arm. “Can’t stop thinking about you, you know. S’ been a while since I saw you..”

“I know,” River whispers, his heart when you wrap your arms tight around his waist, resting your head against his chest. Your hearts beat in tandem, a silent symphony of love rekindled. “Couldn’t be without you for a second longer if I tried, V..think I would’ve finally lost it.”

You can hear it in his voice— he’s tired. Exhausted.

So you decide to give your detective a moment of reprise amidst the chaos. Fuck it, you’ll be the first one admit it— you’re desperate too. You haven’t seen River in god knows how fucking long. Haven’t felt his skin against yours in ages.

“Well, I’m here now, Detective Ward...” you whisper, tracing your index finger along his chiseled jawline, down his chest, down to the loops of his belt. “Why don’t you show me just how much you’ve missed me, then?”

But regardless, your words carved through a path of intimacy that ignited a smoldering, burning fire. You swore mechanical eye shimmered with newfound brilliance. And in response to your playful assertion, his lips curved into a smile as radiant as the moonlight over the city's nocturnal canvas.

“Be glad to, little merc.”

Oh shit, you hadn’t heard that little nickname in a while. But fuck, how you love when he calls you that. With little patience remaining within you, you finally crash your lips against his, and he borderline whimpers into your mouth, hands grabbing your ass as leverage to hold your shorter frame up into him.

The sensation of his lips against yours feels borderline intoxicating. Everything about him drives you absolutely fucking insane— his mouth crashes against yours, letting out a little low groan into your mouth. You can’t help the way his excited eagerness sends little heatwaves down to your core. In that suspended moment, the world outside vanished into obscurity, all that mattered was him.

But River pulls away, and your lips finally part. It seems like all time stops around you when you gaze into each other's eyes, your heavy, needy breaths rising and falling together in sync amidst the quiet of his office.

“You know, V..” River whispers real low, finally breaking the moment of prolonged silence. “I’ve missed you so fuckin’ much. Missed everything about you. Can’t focus… can’t do nothin’ right now.”

Oh, you absolutely know what he’s getting at.

But then, the familiar materialization of blue pixels flashes before you, digital companion appearing before your very eyes, leaning against the door frame. You can’t help but to internally groan— not again. Always picking the worst times to interject.

“Told you so, dipshit. Detective’s sniffin’ around for more…”

Before you can snap back, he’s gone.

Ugh.

The remnants of your playful distraction lingers like a promise in the air, your fingers tapping along River’s beefy arm. “Soooo, River? Gonna ask me to help you out?”

Steady heavy hands grab at your hips, holding you into place. River leans down to your ear, his voice a salacious whisper; an uncharacteristically animalistic growl leaving him as he leans in close.

“I’ll fuck you right here, right now, if you’ll let me, V…” he pauses, steely gaze meeting yours. “That’s how much I missed you.”

Oh, shit.

It didn’t even cross your mind that he would ever actually wanna fuck in his own goddamn office. Your heart begins to pound in your chest.

You’re Night City’s most dangerous merc— and he’s a fucking up-and-running detective, one whose job is made harder by people like you every day— your relationship defies any and all odds, but by Christ, you can’t deny that offer. Not when you crave him oh-so-desperately, not when he’s towering above you, peering down at you like you’re about to become his next meal.

Your breath catches in your throat immediately, his words sending a euphoric shockwave of lust to your core. Rationally, it’s a terrible fucking idea, kinda a public misdemeanor, and just borderline nasty. Sure, it’s late as hell, but River’s office isn’t the only damn one in his building. Getting caught is the last thing either of you need right now, but fuck, you both need eachother like you need oxygen. Neither of you want to hold back.

Truth be told, you’d give anything to be fucked right here and now. This was a side of River Ward you’ve never really seen before— and you’re here for it.

“Huh,” Johnny appears in your line of vision—lighting up a conjured cigarette from the depths of your imagination. He takes a long drag before exhaling, the digital smoke dancing in the dim lighting around you. “…Didn’t actually think he had it in him to do that type of shit.”

You don’t even hear Johnny at this point. You completely push him aside.

“Here? In your office?” You repeat, a sly, shit-eating grin stretching across your face. “Isn’t that a lil risky, Detective Ward?”

River’s staring down at you like you’re about to become his dinner, both his dark amber eye and white mechanical one bearing into yours in anticipation of your answer. You’ve never seen him so… feral. You’re almost intimidated.

“Don’t start, V..” He growls, the warmth of his ‘ganic hand brushes tenderly against your cheek, before he grabs your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. “…Risky isn’t something that’s bothered you before, has it now, little merc?”

So of course, you feed into him. You know how to play him better than he can play himself. Your hands reach down to his chest, slowly down to the loops of his belt. You give it a weak little tug, all whilst maintaining eye contact. Innocently, you look up at him, batting your eyelashes— then you shake your head. “Never has, never will, Detective Ward.”

He can’t deny that, can’t deny you— not when you look at him like that. “That’s what I thought,” A wild grin stretches across his face—his usual soft demeanor now completely thrown out the window. He presses a brief, sloppy kiss to your lips before pulling away.

“Keep at it, then. See if you can handle me.”

There’s something about the way he delivers the words that makes you tremble, like prey standing helplessly before its predator. River doesn’t stop there—he growls; dragging his lips to your neck; trailing sloppy bites, spattering blues and purple marks. Before you can miss the heat of his hands they’re back on your waist, slowly just trailing down your sides. River’s hands are fucking huge— able to cover you almost entirely, and it makes you shudder a little. Sure, you’re dangerous enough, could easily handle him in a fight, but sometimes you felt like River could really snap you in half if he really wanted to.

His fingers travel underneath the hemline of your shirt, caressing against your bare skin. His ganic’ hand against you is so warm, almost burning against your skin, while his damn-near freezing metal hand makes you shudder. It’s a familiar balancing of the two sensations that you hold so so dear, and your appreciation for the feeling only amplifies when they slide underneath your bra.

River stops in his tracks hands rising to grasp at your chest, squeezing your sensitive nipples for just a second, and you fucking whimper. This time, he offers you some reprise— and finally tugs both your shirt and your bra off of you, leaving you exposed to the cool air of his office.

River swore your body was a fucking work of art, dimly-lit curves protruding through the darkness of the office, your hard nipples perking up at the coolness surrounding you. You look so cute when you shiver just a teeny bit when his thumb runs over your nipple. River smiles dumbly at you, a breathy little chuckle escaping him.

“Best merc in all of Night City…” His deft fingertips move towards the waistband of your shorts, tearing them off of you as if they were nothing before stopping abruptly to squeeze at the flesh of your ass. “…And I’m about to fuck her stupid.”

You shiver a little at his words— your cheeks heating up, a familiar burn rising in your lower stomach. And before you can even respond, River’s pushing everything on his desk to the side, sending stacks of paper cascading to the floor, and he’s grabbing your ass again, lifting you up to rest your ass against the cool metal of the desk.

River lowers himself to your ear— his voice real low. “Gonna take care of you now, pretty girl.”

His big hands reach for your panties, deftly tearing them down to your thighs. The air in the office is cool, and you shudder when his warm palms spread your thighs apart. Rough, calloused fingers inch between your legs to your glistening cunt, spreading your folds and slipping his digits into the wetness of your slit, moving up and down, collecting your slick with each little passing movement.

You can’t help the helpless curse that escapes your lips when his thumb slides across your wetness, before pressing it so softly over your now-exposed clit. You reel back with a desperate moan— and you begin to throb. Fuck. Shit. You feel so vulnerable and desperate, your thighs spread open for him on top of his desk, just waiting for his next move as he stares down at you with hunger shining in his eyes.

River’s literally rock hard at this point, literally aching to be inside of you, but shit, you just look soo soo cute already, and you’re just so fucking needy for him. And all he had to do was call for you.

River leans down to your level, taking the sensitive bud into his mouth, swirling his tongue around against it, before switching to a soft suckling. His touch is tender— gentle,

and sends little jolts of lust down your spine. “F—Feels good…” you whimper weakly.

He pulls away when you wiggle against him, a string of saliva connecting your nipple to his lips. You exhale deeply, eyebrows knitting together as your hips arch up a little— but you’re growing impatient again. You want, no, you need, more of him. Your core’s literally on fire. You swear, your mind is beginning to fog with nothing but the thought of his dick. You’re just so fucking horny— and he’s refusing to give you what you want.

You’re about to beg him for more again— but before you can, his hands are on your hips, pulling you towards the edge of the desk so your legs drape off almost entirely. You know what River is about to do when he settles down on his knees between your thighs, his gigantic hands coming up to press them apart against the cool metal.

River can't help but to stop dead in his tracks for a second to stare at your cute pussy glistening so heavenly in the dim light of his office. Man, it made his night at work actually totally fucking worth it. He was so grateful for his pretty merc, so grateful you allow him to delve between your thighs after a hard day.

But the way he’s staring down at you sends literal goosebumps across your skin, he’s just enjoying the view for juuuuusstt a second. He can’t help but to admire your glistening cunt— you’re just too damn pretty.

“Missed this preem pussy of yours, baby…” He sighs against you. “Can’t ever get enough.”

But you’re growing fucking impatient, the way he’s staring at you makes your insides burn and your pretty pussy drips eeeveen more against his desk. “Stop starin’, hurry up…”

“Nah,” he laughs. “Wanna enjoy the view first.” He's grinning as he parts your sticky folds with his thumb, rubbing tenderly at your clit with his thumb.

Your lips immediately fall open with a moan— his breath hot against your throbbing cunt as he gives you the attention you needed for so fucking long.

He moves up, and this time, he flattens his rough tongue to your dripping slit, sliding all the way up from your drenched hole, excruciatingly slow. Then, as if you weren’t already struggling to keep yourself under control, He folds his tongue up against your puffy clit, looking you dead in the eye.

And you can’t take it.

You shiver underneath him, cheeks flushing as you turn your head away to avoid his gaze. But oh, he knows how much he’s embarrassing you, and he loves it. He pulls away from your sopping cunt, his voice switching to a soft coo. “Awww, baby…” He pulls away from you. “Can you look at me, lil’ merc?”

He almost loses it when you peer down him with that cute, innocent gaze of yours when you each for his beefy shoulders, trying so hard to stop your thighs from squeezing around him as he starts slurping at your aching bud. “Good girl… Always followin’ orders..”

You whimper soft curses into the night’s air, his name leaves your lips, and River perks up— letting out a little pleased hum against you. Then, he wraps his beefy ganic’ arm around your hips, holding you close to him as his cold metal fingers brush against your wetness, before sliding into your tight hole.

A jolt is ripped through you, a whine escapes your lips at the sudden intrusion. You can feel the way his fingers stretch you out with such ease— they’re fucking thick, and long— they reach so so deep inside of you. “Y—You’re reachin’ deep, Riv...” A filthy moan falls from your parted lips.

And he grins, tapping his fingers faster against your sopping walls. “You’re so fucking needy— s’ cute,” River chuckles. “You’re just as bad as I am..” he whispers, and begins to drive his digits in and out of your sloppy cunt. Immediately, your back arches— and within seconds, he’s ripping desperate little whimpers from your throat as he renders you fucked dumb with his fingers alone.

You sob out a little curse—using what little strength you had left from the day to squeeze your thighs around his head. He’s filling you nearly full again, your tightness constricting around his single digit.

Instead of pushing your thighs away, he embraces it, siding his free hand underneath your ass to guide your tired hips as he presses a sloppy wet kiss to your aching bud, slipping in another finger. This time, you cry out— and you buck your needy hips against his face.

“Careful now,” River warns, tightening his strong grip on your hips, actually holding your hips down now, “Be nice, baby…” he mumbles between your thighs, growling against your pussy. “Tough it out fr’ me and stay still.”

A little twinge of embarrassment runs down your spine. You truly cannot help it. “Y—Yes sir…” you absent-mindedly moan. You're barely holding it together.

“Sir?” River repeats, big fingers are drilling in and out of you, stretching you just so perfectly. “Is that what you’re calling me now?” His digits tap soo deeply inside of you, fucking you harder and deeper than your own ever possibly could.

“Look at you, V… you’re fuckin’ desperate fr’ me. Turned you into my whore again real quick.”

His words make you fucking throb— and you can’t do anything but whimper incoherent little cries of pure humiliation, and you try to bury your face in your hands as your cheeks burn.

Your boyfriend, however, immediately catches on to your embarrassmenf. River’s voice lowers to a soft coo—“Didn’t tell you to stop callin’ me that, now did I?” he pulls away from your hole for just a quick second— ceasing his abuse to give your clit a quick little kiss of appreciation, eyes looking up at you as if you were his fucking universe. “Keep at it, lil’ merc. Doin’ sooo good for me.”

And then he begins again, sucking and licking at your poor clit. God, you love him. You’ve always lost your fucking mind whenever River stuffed his big fingers inside of you, it just feels so good.

Even worse, he’s literally moaning against you, sending little vibrations throughout you. It’s far too much, he’s soo mean, but you couldn’t possibly get enough of the euphoria he’s giving you— you feel like you’re fucking drowning.

You want to buck your hips against him so so badly, but you know fighting is futile at this point. So, your tired thighs begin to shake beneath him, your drippy pussy already beginning to throb in anticipation of an incoming orgasm. You’re fucked.

“River— Detective— Sir…” you choke out. “M’gonna… gonna cum.”

He can feel the way your thighs tighten around him, the way your sharp nails start to dig and scratch into his big shoulders. Your cute sloppy cunt is starting to twitch and pulse beneath his licks, and your pretty face starts to twist in pure euphoric bliss. River hums against you, a pussy-drunk grin plastered on his face. He knows you’re gonna cum, and he’s being damn-smug about it.

But oh, he can’t take it. You feel the coolness of his metal hand against your ass, and before you feel inclined to face him, you hear the telltale “ziiip!” and shuffling of fabric as he pulls down his jeans and boxers just enough to free his throbbing, rock-hard cock with one hand, running his ganic hand up and down against his hard shaft. Anything to keep those thoughts of fucking you at bay (for now).

He’s so fucking mean with the way he’s eating you out, overstimulainng your already sensitive cunt hard. No matter how hard your shaky thighs try to squeeze around his head, he just keeps sucking your clit, shoving his thick fingers in and out of you as your stomach coils and your cunt throbs. You’re cumming. And you can’t help it anymore.

You’re well-past the point of giving a fuck about how loud you were being. You lose yourself, then. “Give it to me, V,” he groans against you, and his name falls from your lips like a prayer— a mantra. You’re keening into sweet “ah-ah-ah’s” as he slurps at your cunt, repeatedly tapping his big, thick metal fingers inside of you, devouring you whole.

River’s heart flutters in his chest when he feels your legs begin to shake in his rough grasp as you finally gush all over him. He can’t decide whether to focus on your fucked-out face, looking all cute with your saliva-coated lips forced ajar, your eyes all glossy— or your destroyed, soaked, puffy cunt.

“Love my messy lil’ merc..” He coos softly in your ear. “Got no idea how proud I am, pretty girl...”

Your cunt squelches and drips onto the desk everytime he pulls his cool metal fingers in and out— fucking you through your explosive orgasm, and you’re just whimpering and moaning so fucking much. He’s forcing electrical shocks down your tired body as he renders you destroyed with his tongue alone.

But oh, you ache for the way his throbbing cock splits you in two, you miss his little whimpers and groans when your tight, sloppy pussy hugs him tight.

And suddenly, you’re overcome with the desire for more.

River continues pumping his veiny shaft in tandem with the thrusts of his fingers as little moans fall from both of you. You squeal when his harsh licks become too much for your overstimulated pussy, yanking your thighs away from his head.

He stops immediately—pulling himself away from you, and looks back up at you with his entrancing white mechanical eye with such genuine concern, eyebrows raising as he stares up at you. “You okay, baby?”

You pant— breaths heaving from your chest, and River rests his head against your plush thighs, looking up at you with concern. You sit there for a minute, panting. Your pussy pulsates and throbs beneath you, and you’re completely and utterly overwhelmed already. But fuck, there’s something else inside of you— and it wants more. No, you need more of him. You ache for his cock.

You collect yourself— you want him now. “Y—Yeah, m’fine…” you pant. “…Want you to fuck me now, Riv… please,” you pant.

River grins— a little pleased hum falling from his lips as he presses a little soft kiss to your thigh. “You sure, V?”

“Please, sir…” you whine, wiggling your hips. You truly, genuinely swear you need him inside of you at this point.

“That’s all you needed to say,” he whispers. With little warning, his metal hand gives your ass a slap, your body jolting with a nasty moan. “Breathe deep for me an’ stay still.”

You just can’t help but to follow his command, allowing yourself to take a deep breath in, bracing yourself against the desk. River’s cock is literally throbbing. He’s been aching to be inside of you since the moment you fuckin’ walked in. He slides his thick cock against against your slick, soaked folds up against your sore, aching clit. He chuckles when you let out a little whimper. But truth is, he’s just as down bad. You’re so fucking wet, so warm— he needs you now.

You feel his tip prod at your hole again— but this time he’s pressing deeper and he’s giving into what you both want.

Your chest heaves and struggles for air as your glossy eyes stare back into his, whimpering so so softly as River gently begins to roll his hips, the tip of his cock nudging at your slit with each slide up, his ganic’ hand resting on your lower tummy to press down, while his metal hand slides up your body to press against your throat.

River’s thickness slides all the way into you until he finally bottoms out. Your mouth falls agape as he knocks the wind from your lungs. He’s fucking big. Thick. Hard. His eyes hungrily trace over your body; observing how your chest rose and fell, your scarred body shaking in his arms; legs trembling as you struggle to take him fully.

And although this definitely isn’t your first time, you briefly struggle to handle his size, and it even aches a little. It’s been too fucking long since he’s filled you like this, and you both know it. “Forgot how—forgot how big you are..” you breathe.

River, on the other hand, is in heaven.

You’re literally dripping around him, hole clenching tight around him as his cock struggles to stay still inside of you. His big, beefy arms come down besides you— pinning you down to the desk. “You’re so tight, V. Haven’t been stretched out good in a while, huh?”

You shake your head. His cockhead is literally nudging at your cervix, and it’s making you feel dizzy and lightheaded. You feel… good.

“Think you can handle this dick?” he smiles, and you nod, your eyes fluttering open as

River’s metal hand wraps around the back of your neck, his fingers coldly pressing up against the sides of your throat as he squeezes.

“Yes, sir!” you cry out hoarsely. The feeling of his firm fingers pressed firmly against your throat makes you fucking weak— causes you to get eeeeven wetter, and even more fucking desperate for him.

River is letting out low groans that echoes within the quietness of the room as his hard cock delves into you. He just can’t help himself— his lil merc’s pussy takes him too fucking good, and he can’t help the way his hips rentlessly slam into you.

He’s ripping pathetic, high-pitched whines and whimpers from your lips, loving the way your smaller hands hands grab at his shoulders for dear-fucking-life as he fills you to the very brim, the tip of his leaky cock pressing agaisnt your cervix. It feels… amazing. You can’t help but to be vocal—River’s cock always stretches you out so so fucking well, and there’s even a little ache from the way he stuffs you completely full over and over again, slamming you into the desk with little remorse, just using you like a fucking toy. You’re trying sooooo hard to compose yourself, to keep yourself from sobbing and clawing at him. But oh, you’re such a terrible liar, you’re enjoying him sooo much.

His dick is literally rock-hard, even beginning to tremble a little bit inside of you, and he has to force his hips to stop. He takes a shaky breath, a low groan falling from his lips, and you can’t help but to just stare at him, his eyed half-lidded, mechanical one dimming softly against the darkness. He’s soooo needy and it's just straight up adorable. He’s literally aching to fuck you stupid, it fucking kills you. But god, it’s just the perfect opportunity to tease him a little bit.

A little smug grin forms across your lips as an idea pops into mind. Ever-so-slowly, you begin to move and grin your roll hips back against River’s, fucking yourself back into him the best you possibly could given his huge size. “Thinka— ah—Think you can handle me, Detective?”

But River’s not having it tonight. Not about to handle shit from his dangerous little doll, not about to let you, the most dangerous merc in Night City, win this one. His hips snap to yours viciously, pulling his thick cock all the way out before pumping it back up to you full-force, filling you to the literal brim over and over again. “Don’t start shit with me now, baby,” River growls. “You were doing sooo well— was bein’ such a good little merc for me..” he coos.

River’s hand grabs at your hips again and forces hard hits into you. It’s far too much for your little mind to handle, but by god, you loved it. River can’t get enough of the way your nails dig into his back, the way your legs kick out over and over from underneath him as you struggle to bring yourself to form words. “S—Sorry, Detective Ward..” you sob

He peels himself off of you, bracing himself internally as his hands move to pry your legs apart as he forces himself even deeper. River’s voice is a deep growl, as if encouraging you to acknowledge the mess he’s making between your thighs. “Guess we know not to talk back now, huh baby?”

River grins when you cry out little “uh huhs” and hips begin to ram into your ass, big hands digging into your hips for leverage. With each thrust, he’s knocking the air out of your lungs, forcing literal jolts of pleasure to fire from synapses.

Through the tiniest, weakest gasps, and through the soft, wet sounds of River fucking himself into your dripping pussy, you feel like you’ve already been broken in at this point. Purely fucked stupid. Your brain’s beginning to feel like it’s short-circuiting, your core’s on fucking fire.

You’re totally unaware of yourself at this point as he slams against your ass, uncaring as you let desperate, depraved whiny moans escape your lips. You sound filthy— you no longer care about getting caught, the only thing on your mind is him. Your pussy squelches against the quietness of the office, your nasty moans bouncing off of the walls. All you can do is hiccup little “thankyouthankyouthankyou!!’s” as River stuffs you full, and he loves it.

“There you go, V. Good girl, givin’ in….finally.”

A gasp escapes you, your pussy clamping down on him as you nod over and over again. But he can’t help but to give you a little chuckle as his ganic hand wraps around the your throat juuuusssttt enough to squeeze a little. And oh, just like that, he’s entirely set you off. Within minutes, he’s fucked the most dangerous merc in Night City into submission. What a fuckin’ achievement that one is.

You’re so so out of it, mind dumb from the combined pain and pleasure. the wetness of your cunt squelches and drips whenever he pulls out his cock to fuck it deeper. Your slick even drips down his balls— and it drives him fucking crazy. River is ripping sobs and little hiccups of pleasure from your throat as he angles his cock deep inside, almost folding you in half, your knees wrapped right around his back to hold him deeper. But fuck, he’s getting loud too. You both are.

You’re fucked out by your pretty cop boyfriend. You. The most dangerous merc around. It’s a funny fucking thought, almost. Johnny’s gonna lose his shit again after this, but your head is literally spinning, your thighs beginning to tremble against River’s mean thrusts. You feel drunk off of him, and your pussy literally trembles whenever he looks you dead in the eyes as he fucks the life outta you.

You swear your system is genuinely being overloaded by sheer fucking pleasure. Jolts of electrical euphoria slide down to your best spots over and over again. But there’s a creeping, burning feeling burning up within you, and your body seizes.

Fuck. You’re already close. Like the obedient merc you are, you warn your detective, even as tears of dumbfound pleasure slide down to your cheeks, even as you struggle to let the words fall from your lips. “C—Close!!” you hiccup.

“Already, baby? Finishing up so soon?” River teases, and he can’t help but to stare down at you at the absolute, utter enchanting way tears begin to spill from the corners of your eyelids as you try so fucking hard to hold your orgasm back for him, to not let it overtake you even when your tummy coils and you’re forced to heave out your little breaths and moans as he literally fucks the air from your lungs.

“Riiiivvvvv…” you whine, half-kisses eyes

closing. “Jus.. jus’ lemme finish..”

He can feel the way your juicy pussy attempts to milk him dry, the way your entire whole body shivers and trembles beneath him. River presses a little kiss to your forehead, still driving his hips into yours. “Hang on a little while longer for me, yeah?”

River swears, you look fucking adorable. All spread out beneath him on his desk, your nails desperately scratching at his bare back while you try to wrap your legs around his waist. Your eyes are tear-filled and glazed over— your mouth slightly agape. He’s grunting, panting— River feels every little contraction and pulse of your tight cunt around his thick, veiny cock. can’t hold back for any longer— he needs you to finish.You’re trying sooo hard to hold yourself back, and fuck, it’s adorable—he can’t help but just to tease you a little.

River hunches over you, getting real close in between his ruthless thrusts and little groans of pleasure, his voice is hoarse— low, as if he’s struggling to keep himself together.

“Ask nicely, V.”

A twinge of embarrassment shoots down to your core at his filthy demand. At this point, you know you’ve got no choice but to obey. You open your mouth, and let the sinful, filthy words you know he wants to hear slide from your lips, and you sure as hell can’t tell whether you love it or hate him for it.

“Please let me cum, Detective,” you whine, your chest beginning to heave as you struggle to hold yourself back from releasing just yet. It’s fucking almost painful the way you’d body convulses and just seizes; he’s just giving you too much pleasure. “Been s—soo good for you… been takin’ alla you so well…” You babble out, the first tears of pleasure beginning to slide down your puffy cheeks.

“I want you, River. Need you now. Need this. Please, just let me—please…” you beg. And River finally gives in, leaning down to press a little kiss to your forehead whilst in the middle of absolutely destroying you.

And oh, River Ward just couldn’t get enough.

A little smirk of satisfaction spreads across his face at your debauched little begs. River was always so proud whenever he got to make his lil merc finish— and just fucking looved to hear you beg beneath him.

“Go ahead, little mercenary, you can cum for me,” River growls, relishing in the way your pussy tightens when he growls deeply in your ear. “N’ don’t hold back on me, sweetheart.”

So you finally heed his command, and finally let go of the insane amount of tension building up within your stomach. Within seconds, you’re gushing against him, pussy constricting impossibly tightly around his dick, and your entire body jolts— your back arches entirely off of the desk as your jaw goes entirely slack. You’re genuinely not able to talk, you’re too fucking absorbed in able to letting the crashing euphoria overtake you.

“O-Oh, Fuu—ckkk…” River groans, his voice cracking so subtly sweet as he struggles to chase his own orgasm. You’re literally milking him for all he’s worth— and it’s been too long, he’s literally aching to cum, and you know it too.

You’ve got him whimpering, his head is thrown fowards as he fucks you through his own orgasm. Through your half-lidded eyes, you watch your beloved detective. “Cum inside… please, Riv. N—Need it,” you cry out.

River chuckles—his thrusts are animalistic— borderline furious as he drives his hips into yours. “Remember, you asked for it, little mercenary…”

You literally can only watch when River rocks his hips back and forth into you, as if testing how deep he’s claimed his deadly merc. But even with a muddled mind and blurry eyes, even as your sweet detective boyfriend roughly grasps onto the meat of your thigh hard enough to bruise, you notice his hips beginning to falter, slow down, his own thighs beginning to tremble.

You genuinely swear you catch his eyes rolling back for just a second.

“Fill… me… up,” you pant, and as if on cue, hips finally stop as he presses his weight onto you with a groan— and pushes himself as deep as possible, filling you up to the brim before he shoots velvety ropes inside, pumping you full of of his hot cum. “Fuck—fuckfuckfuckfuck…”

It’s just been so so long since’s he’s felt your warm, pretty pussy clench around him, and he’s thrown over the fucking edge. He can’t bring himself to pull out, not like this, he just needs to enjoy the feeling of you milking him of all he’s worth, he needs you to take every single drop. It’s just been far too long since he’s last felt you like this. Around his trembling, aching dick, you clamp and squeeze against him in like a fucking godsend. He can’t get enough of your pretty pussy dripping all over him, letting him pump your pretty pussy full of his cum.

You look utterly etheral in the dim glow of his office, naked, fucked-out, panting and heaving with tears of pure, dumb-founded pleasure running down your cheeks from the orgasm he genuinely ripped out of you after sooo long.

You both sit still, quivering and shaking as you pant and struggle to breathe as you come down from your respective highs.

Your eyes flutter open when he pulls out of you, a trail of cum sliding from your abused hole down to your ass. His calloused fingers cup your chin so so gently as he slides his overwhelmed cock against your soaked folds, still trying to savor your juices while he still could.

Another moment of silence passes between you as you sit still for a minute, all spread out and panting.

“Need you to look at me, V…” he pants, a dumbstruck little smile spreading across his face when you tilt your timid gaze up to meet his, your eyes fluttering open. The pad of his thumb slides across your cheek— and your heart burns with love at his gentle touch. “Thank you,” he breathes, voice shallow, chest heaving a little. “I… I needed that.”

River's strong hands find their way to your waist, pulling you impossibly close until there was no space left to bridge. You willingly slump against him, finding solace in his warm embrace.

"I know you did," you reply with a weak smile, your voice reduced to a meek whisper. With a shaky hand, you cup his jaw, your touch conveying more love and appreciation than your words ever could. "I needed that, too."

As you both lay entangled in each other's arms, the dim office around you seemed to fade away. The quiet hum of the city and the eerie darkness disappeared, replaced by the warmth of your long-awaited embrace. In the daring midst of Night City's chaos, you and River had finally reached a moment of peace and solace in each other's arms.

A lingering moment of silence passes, and River finally speaks, his voice raspy and exhausted. "V, let's go home. Can’t fuckin’ stand this office anymore..” he sighs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before pulling back to gaze longingly into your eyes.

You meet his steely gaze, your eyes locking with his. “Mhm... was thinkin’ the same thing," you replied with a knowing smile.

River’s strong, reassuring hands lift you off of his lap. With the most gentle and softest of touches, River helps you dress, sliding your clothes back onto your exhausted body. The moment is intimate—filled with an unspoken affection that neither of you dared to disturb.

….Except for Johnny.

Your digital companion strikes again, ashing out his cigarette against the concrete.

“Well… guess the star-crossed lovers are finally on their way out. Enjoy this while you can, V— ain’t gonna last.”

You can’t bring yourself to bitch back right now— the moment between you and River is just too perfect, so you just mentally shrug off Johnny's caustic remark. You knew him well enough to understand that, beneath his shitty cynical exterior, he harbored some form of care for you.

Johnny's holographic form appeared, leaning against a digital wall as he continued his tirade."I've seen a lot of 'em come and go, these star-crossed lovers," he spits, his tone still dripping with sarcasm. "But you, V, you always manage to surprise me. Guess I should be happy you found someone like River to put up with your crazy ass."

You can’t help but to laugh inwardly, your thoughts projecting to Johnny, "Well, aren't you just a bucket of sunshine today? You know what they say, Johnny, love makes the world go 'round."

He snortes, his cyber visage maintaining its cool composure. "Yeah, love. The most preem emotion in the 'verse, huh?"

Your smirk was evident in your mental reply, "Jealous, Johnny?"

He rolled his virtual eyes, flicking his digital cigarette away. "Nah, I've had my time, V. But for your sake, I hope it lasts."

As you and River reach the exit of the office building, you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of contentment, knowing that, for now, you have found a love that was worth cherishing, no matter what Johnny or Night City throws your way.

Hand in hand, you and River leave the office behind, heading toward the sanctuary of your shared world—where your love could flourish and bring you the peace you both desperately desired after such a long day. Home was where your hearts truly belonged, a place where you could find solace in each other's arms, where love thrived amid the bleary, unending chaos of the city around you.

#literally took more than a month to write this. oopsies.#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk smut #river ward x reader #river ward #cyberpunk 2077 fic #river ward romance #river ward x v #v cyberpunk #cyberpunk2077 #silverv #cyberpunk phantom liberty #fem v cyberpunk #fem v #cp2077 #joce writes

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sailorspica · 1 month ago

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poto month — poto questions

What's your favorite lyrics line in the musical?

You may interpret it if it pertains to the text or to the music arrangement only

POTOCTOBER

i cannot answer just one but these are all from sung-through book parts for such dumb reasons; bolded more earnest choices. also a huge fan of the whole finale, which is peak driving around music where i try to sing every part

stranger than you dreamt it: the beginning with "damn you you little prying pandora"/"curse you you little lying delilah" (🫵🏼 yk) is very fun, but he also spills all his beans while insisting "secretly... secretly"

why have you brought me here: i love how fast and mad they sample the title song right before "raoul, i've seen him"

raoul i've seen him: "yet in his eyes all the sadness in the world / those pleading eyes that both and adore" <- catnip to me

twisted every way: "he murders all that's good" is a wild statement since, idk, how good can a rich opera audience be, and buquet sucked

the AIAOY quote at the end of PONR: "lead me, save me from my solitude"

honorable mentions because of our other formative fucked up age gap movie, by sheer coincidence also from 1986: "and in this labyrinth where night is blind" and "little lotte thought am i fonder of dolls or of goblins or shoes"

#asks #mae 🐇#potoctober #moot moot

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no1konigfan · 2 years ago

Text

Random songs that makes me think about the COD men

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

Most of these make no sense

König

-btr-no idea

-ooomph-labyrinth

-the neighbourhood-wires

-radiohead-all i need

-dxrk-rave

-kslv-override

-rammstein-sonne

-little big-big dick

Graves

-Lana del ray -west coast

-dpr ian-nerves

-foo fighters-everlong

-big & rich-save a horse

-eliasgs-immortal

-the weeknd-heartless

-flyleaf-all around me

-tyler the creator-new magic wand

-Charlie xcx-Vroom vroom

Captain price

-arctic monkeys-505

-deftones-risk

-solitude aeturnus-scent of death

-shaggy-hey sexy lady

-lana del rey-doin time

-the cranberries-dreams

-timbaland-the way i are

-kim petras-treat me like a slut

Soap

-beach bunny-sports

-crying city-buy my lies

-stephen sanchez-until i found you

-erika lundmoen-yad(sped up)

-joji-sanctuary

-the smashing pumpkins-zero

-the neighbourhood-reflections

Ghost

-Sleep token-the summoning

-ivan cornejo-està denada

-Hozier-movement

-kxllswxtch-waste

-scxr soul-demons in my soul

-vira-god complex

-chance pena-in my room

-the goo goo dolls-iris

#cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #philip graves #cod price #könig cod #x reader #simon ghost riley #soap mw2 #call of duty

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cityandking · 1 year ago

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🧱 😱 ✨ 🐺 for dai, minah and anticlea!

thanks dear!! // prompts I'd like to receive

[ 🧱 ] how would you describe your muses’ morality? what are their core values?

DAI — "nothing is more important than the responsibility my faith confers upon me to help others in need." originally his altruism was structured by the tenets of his faith, but he's come to understand that his altruism is his own and faith is just one way to guide it. with or without pelor, with or without tempus, he wants to help people and do good. he was lawful good when the campaign started, but he's shifted to neutral good over time.

MINAH — minah's morals are a little hard to pin down, tbh. she has a deep-seated lack of trust in any authority or organization, so her morality prioritizes the individual over rule of law. her sense of right and wrong is largely based on her moment-to-moment gut instincts in a situation, but tends to be driven primarily by her desire for personal safety and security (financially, physically, mentally, emotionally, etc.) and secondarily by an impulse towards compassion (she'd really really rather not break any fingers). she meant it when she told cian that there's always unfixible things, and she's not particularly interested in fixing them—she tries to keep out of the big-picture politics and ethics, and she's likewise not planning to cut down on the thieving any time soon—but that doesn't mean she can't tip a busker or talk to a half-blind orphan lordling or offer to save a templar's lover from tranquility (as an interrogation tactic, but hey! still an offer). it's the little touches when you desperately need them that matter most. minah is true neutral.

CLEA — clea lives by the old girl scout law of leaving a place better than you found it. she's lived a long time and values heart and courage and kindness and growth. at the root of everything, she's just a gardener. clea is neutral good.

[ 😱 ] does your muse have any specific fears? where did those fears come from?

DAI — he's afraid of deep water. his first death was pretty traumatic ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I rolled a couple times during the kaiju arc against panicking while they were underwater but he kept it together (shout out to that high WIS mod). besides that, he's afraid of failing the people he's supposed to be taking care of, which was always there but really kicked in when Izzy died. a lot of things changed for him when Izzy died.

MINAH — she's got a couple, yeah. she's a lil claustrophobic—she can deal with tight spaces, but she needs to be able to access an exit, otherwise she gets panicked about being trapped. a few escapes have gone badly over the years—crammed in some tiny hidey-hole hoping no one notices her, or not quick enough and ending up arrested—and she's afraid of ending up back in a cell

CLEA — her son's memory haunts her—she dreams about him sometimes, when she's not dreamwalking—but mostly she's just grateful to see him. it's the only way he lives on. she's definitely afraid of foresyhte going to the abyss (and then losing him just like everyone else), which is why he won't be going! problem solved.

[ ✨ ] what aesthetics or symbols do you reference when writing your muse? are these backed up by canon, if your muse comes from a canon? is there any specific relevance to these choices?

DAI — shields, the sun, wings, light. wounds/sickness come up pretty often, which makes sense because he's a healer (but *cocks gun*). lava, recently :)

MINAH — I associate her with the tragicomedy masks, and also songbirds. molten gold, a bit. silks (the aerial kind, mostly, but also costumes). the theater, of course. and nomadism—living on the road, horses and caravans, that sort of thing.

CLEA — old trees, shrikes, white winter foxes, snow. furs and beads and silver jewelry. weeping willows and labyrinths and tea and bright embroidery. the way sunlight feels through the trees on a cool day in early spring, a touch of warmth after a long winter.

[ 🐺 ] does your muse like solitude? do they prefer it to being around others? how easily does your muse get lonely?

DAI — definitely (desperately) needs his alone time. he's a true introvert; no matter how much he likes hanging out he simply Has to find some quiet time to rest and recharge. the trip through the storm where they were all crammed together in the tiny hut was one of the worst experiences of his life and he's literally in the abyss right now. he doesn't get lonely easily, in part because he's always had pelor with him—the loneliest he's ever felt, I think, is when his faith was in tatters and he didn't know where to turn.

MINAH — minah likes a little private time to take the mask(s) off, but she gets antsy if she's on her own for too long. even if she's not entertaining, she likes to be in a group—she's an extrovert

CLEA — she gets lonely really easily, actually. back home she was part of a big community, and then when she left she was constantly meeting new people, going new places, traveling with her party. being in selto is nice—she likes the city and she's got friends and plenty to keep her busy—but she never lived alone before. she has a tendency to talk to the plants (and the neighbors) when she's undersocialized. she really does wish forsyhte would visit more often.

#sorry these got Long I simply have many thoughts and feelings #daichi #minah #anticlea #good kids :')#memery

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eleventhhouseproductions · 3 months ago

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The Vulnerability of Dating Again in the Next Decade

As I sit here reflecting on the years gone by, I realize the journey of the heart is often tumultuous. Navigating through the labyrinth of love, I've encountered numerous heartbreaks, each leaving a mark deeper than the last. I've encountered men who professed love yet failed to uphold its essence. The years have taught me to cherish my solitude and use it as a tool for healing and growth.

Recently, a man approached me on a social platform. He shared some common interests—which piqued my curiosity. It was a gentle reminder that, despite the past, connections can still spark in unexpected places. As I ponder the idea of flirting with the notion of a new relationship, I am more aware of the importance of understanding who I am and what I desire.

The past has been a harsh teacher, reminding me time and again of the significance of intuition. Had I listened to that inner voice at the outset of my dating journey, I may have saved myself from so much pain. This lesson is powerful, urging me to step back and truly listen, to give my heart the patience it needs to discern between fleeting attractions and genuine connections.

Now, as I contemplate opening my world to someone new, I do so with a mix of fear and hope. The fear of letting someone in and facing disappointment again looms large. Yet, there's also a glimmer of hope that a new love can blossom with transparency and honesty. This time, it’s about finding someone willing to walk alongside me, sharing openly, vulnerably, and authentically.

In sharing my journey, I inspire others who may find themselves in a similar place of uncertainty. Let us not be disheartened by the shadows of our past, but rather, let us use them as stepping stones toward a future where love, in its most valid form, can thrive. If you, too, are on the cusp of letting someone into your heart, remember that the right person will accept your vulnerability and cherish it as the foundation of a beautiful partnership.

#newjourney #Visual #artist

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casually-angsty · 7 months ago

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Midnight Philosophies: The Great Perhaps and the Crunchy Mango Sunshine

In eighth grade, I wrote a poem about a boy in which I had given my all for nothing at all (in my own thirteen year old self's words). I remembered this only in the fact that I had been cleaning out my closet and discovered the physical copy I had saved in a box with photos from the years before.

That moment, as messy as it was, became symbolic as I read the last line about our former selves being ghosts in our new lives. We were different now; the only thing we shared was our memories of who we used to be.

Thus began a sixty degrees moment (in which I sit on the cold floor in sixty degrees in thought). There have been so many versions of myself that I have let go to the unknown. I don't think of them, not to forget about them, but to avoid the solemn moments of my past. But the cool thing is that it’s new years eve, so I kind of HAVE to think about all of the heartbreaks, the nights of solitude, the rageful runs...

...everything that allowed me the opportunity to grow out of my former selves. The biggest lesson from 2023 is that everything you lose is a step you take. Yes, I may have lost so many things, friends, pieces of myself, but in the end, I have gained so many lessons that have made me better as a person, stronger even.

A reminder of this is day my AP Literature teacher, my favorite person, had calmed me down from an anxiety attack. After I had settled down, I began to explain how I got through the first round of despair--my crunchy mango sunshine era. I was the kind of girl to live in the sunlight. To make smoothies and drink tea every night. I lived by routine. I stuck quotes all over my room to remind myself of the beauty of the bliss I was in. And as fearless as I was, I let it all go in response to a singular intrusion of my inner peace. She saw the smile on my face as I recalled those moments and said,

"Bring her back."

And that is where my mind has been. These past two weeks have not been all that kind. Call it what you want, but the false hope has faded and I am now facing a hard truth. I have two options here. I can continue wasting my time in this labyrinth, the mystery of life...or I can forgive my adversaries and enter a new version of me, one in which I enjoy the moments I am given regardless of the ups and downs, where I am present in the moment and hold the power to say, "bring on the great perhaps."

The scary thing about life is that it is ever changing. Everything that comes together is meant to fall apart. You may have the tightest grasp on something, but eventually, you have to let go, for if you never bleed, you are never going grow.

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ughhitsnick · 1 year ago

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In the labyrinth of recursive learning, I stumbled upon an Asian technology textbook PDF while delving into local SEO tasks. If memory serves me right, my exploration led me through a series of interconnected modules, weaving a string theory of information. Unfortunately, I neglected to save the PDF, and my nascent exploration was abruptly interrupted, diverting my attention from academic pursuits. The document, a diagram elucidating the rapid progression of technology and the imminent fusion of TVs, phones, appliances, and electronics, now eludes me.

Amid this intellectual pursuit, a diagnosis of schizoaffective disorder was added to my repertoire. This revelation coincided with the unsettling discovery that my neighbors were infiltrating my network, erasing or appropriating items from my camera roll, and disseminating personal pictures at my workplace. A nervous breakdown ensued, leaving me feeling unsafe in my own home, particularly in this one-bedroom abode shared with my father. Strangely, specific items mysteriously vanished, and an unfamiliar meme materialized in my camera roll, serving as the catalyst for sustained periods of psychosis.

What follows may seem incredulous, yet I possess sequences of images, research trials, and metadata supporting the allegations stemming from my recollections. Social engineering, the inaugural stage of hacking, functions as the cornerstone in the OSI model—the physical layer—marking the commencement of cyber intrusions. A palpable sense of clandestine activities surrounds me, leaving me bewildered as to why I'm the last to comprehend. Subjected to involuntary psychiatric holds by my family, I've encountered threats of false narratives fed to law enforcement during these episodes, culminating in a total of 12 hospitalizations. Although I acknowledge my challenges, attempts to share my experiences in Glen Cove were met with deceit and manipulation.

My interactions took a surreal turn upon encountering an individual, coinciding with the erratic behavior of my phone and subsequent electronic malfunctions—an early sign of hacking. Back then, such claims seemed preposterous, given the technological limitations of the era. Yet, hindsight reveals the prescience of those warnings.

Anticipating skepticism, I intend to migrate to a dedicated website to host visual evidence—pictures and PDFs. My narrative alone won't suffice; the plausibility and capabilities of technology, wielded for unintended purposes, demand visual substantiation. Clinical trials, site screenshots, system bugs, crashes, and an array of mixed media will fortify my assertions.

Within this city, a fascination with spying exists among specific groups, transforming into an unsettling amalgamation of knowledge akin to infowars. This intrusive behavior extends to exploring the contents of dwellings and personal belongings. A historical backdrop of financial success, often linked to organized crime, persists, suggesting that little has changed. Despite my pleas for solitude, the mind games persist, evident in the disconcerting looks from individuals in my life. The forthcoming evidence may bridge the gap between the seemingly implausible and the undeniable, as the web of coincidences, though quickly accumulating, is underpinned by the inexorable forces of luck, the universe, or a divine influence.

What I am going to share is going to mostly be unbelievable, but I have sequences of images and research trials and metadata that support any allegations that could be drawn from my recollection. Social engineering is the first stage of hacking. Its the first layer in the OSI-model, the physical layer, so thats where the hacking starts. I know that something has been going on around me, why I am the last to know is beyond me. I've been 51-50'd by my family and threatened with promises that lies would be fed to any law enforcement that would be called at any given time. Ive been hospitalized 12 times in total so far. I know I have problems, but when I moved to Glen Cove and started picking up on weird vibes followed by odd conclusions upon daily reflections, I tried explaining my experiences with those closest to me, and was met with lies and manipulation. It was when I met one individual that my phone and later on other electronics, but my phone started to misbehave. It was bugging out slowly but surely, like someone was hacking it. This was before the technology we have today, so me saying that was so far fetched to everyone, I looked like a nut. When someone told me something over a year ago, i thought this individual was completely out of his mind, turns out he wasn't.

I plan on migrating to a website that can host all of my pictures and pdf's because my story telling will not be enough, you will have to at least see the plausibility, and capabilities, of technology and the people who use it for purposes other than was intended. Clinical trials, screen shots of sites, bugs, crashes, all sorts of mixed media will be backing up my statement. There is a fascination with spying on people here in this city, it is done amoung certain groups of people for fun. Turning into infowars, but with knowledge of what was in their dwellings, or in their belongings. There is also a long history of financial success here, mostly fueled by extremely organized crime. I don't think much has changed. I tried to ask to be left alone, I asked and asked, everyone because I knew that some of the people in my life were playing mind games with me, even just by the look in their eyes. The evidence will support what may not be so hard to believe, I dont know. The coincidences add up quickly, luck runs out rather fast, but the universe and or god definitely had their influence is matters without a doubt.

#margot robbie #ask me anything #no sense of community #Shadow Orginizations #Scam Artist #Identity thefts #gangstalking #ThePheonixProject

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cryptid-killjoy · 4 months ago

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He had to save Pan, Hook, and the Nevers to save the Pixies, and keep the never ending great war going. He couldn’t believe he just walked out on his father. He knew why he was doing it, but the phrase the road to Hell is paved with good intentions kept repeating in his head as the pair drudged through the snow. He just betrayed Hook for the second time in his life right to his face and he his stomach was in knots over it. He crossed his mental fingers this betrayal would end up mendable with his father later.

"Four things. We got this." Talk about being in your 'I don't know how but I will get shit done' phase.

He promised himself to stop thinking so much but his brain didn't shut off. Figaro gave him their coat so at least he was more covered than before, but now he felt bad the both of them were not as bundled up as they should be in this blizzard.

The cold must have been getting worse, that or the long exposure was finally getting to them because Nelly's wings stopped working and was having a hard time keeping up. Will had to put her tiny body in his pocket to help keep her warm too. The brave trio marched on. He worried about foot prints, but the snowfall was covering up their tracks almost as fast as they could put them down.

Why did the labyrinth have to be so far from Pixie Hollow? There was big fuck snow energy going on between the three of them. He was starting to understand why the Fairy Queen had the rule about winter fae staying on their own side of the forest so long ago. There was no winter side now though. All of the Nevers were over taken by blankets of white.

All that said their drudge would lead them back to the Hollow. Guilt started to creep in what he did to his mother's people. The road to saving them sure wasn't on the straight and narrow.

Good thing he had the heart of a pirate.

Eventually they did find the frost frost fairies. It was as he watched all the frost fae he finally got an idea of how he was going to make his debate with Periwinkle. The long drudge was useful after all. Feeling like death was upon them and so close to frost bite was a feeling that sunk to his marrow and realized the rest of the forest had to be feeling the same way.

He finally saw the twinkle of her nearly identical wings as his. Periwinkle's were more blue for winter and Willem's were golden like Miss Belle herself. The likeness other than color was pretty uncanny. Their glitteriness reflected against the snow.

One more time making sure they were thimble-sized people with his Antman powers and he'd be ready to approach. For as much as he'd practiced it even took him more than one try this time. He couldn't control his body from shivering. He wasn't sure how he thought he was going to control the magic so easily now. Why was everything getting harder as they went? Maybe he was just plain exhausted?

Thank goodness he had Figaro with him. The endless snow seemed insurmountable. As they spied on Periwinkle from a distance he was worried showing face was going to set off alarm bells to the rest of the pixies. They'd already kidnapped a sleeping death Pan in a glass coffin, a big bag of blue dust, and Pixie Hollow's dignity. He was ready to be attacked on first sight.

They'd follow her in pirate mode skulking in shadows waiting for the perfect moment when Periwinkle was truly alone. Here goes nothing.

"Aunt Peri!" His voice echoed in the icey solitude.

She flitted away frightened by his voice.

This took his Wild Will heart off guard. He was ready for an ambush or an attack. He was ready for verbal anger.

"Periwinkle. It's me. Willem. It's us. Figaro, Nelly, and Wild Will. We just want to talk. We come in peace. Just talk. That's all we want."

"Is Hook out there?" She peeked cautiously around her icey barrier. "Is it true? Did you bring him back?"

That cut Willem hard. It wasn't that she was asking or that she already knew. He really shouldn't have been shocked the pixies already knew when they had so many lookouts in the forest, but it was the way she was suddenly so timid. This wasn't the pixie he met before. His heart dropped right to his stomach. This was his father they were talking about. This was his mother's sister, born of the same baby's laughter cowering from him right now. He wasn't sure how to feel about that. This mission was starting to take a toll on him.

"Peri, Listen. It's not what you think. Just let me explain. I'm trying to fix things, I promise."

He thought he came in here about to pirate this place up, but maybe it was time to go back to tinkering? Maybe he really wanted Geppeto's sweater back about right now sick of feeling pulled between tinkers and pirates. He wanted to curl up in the attack and watch a show or maybe sit in the walls with Hansel.

"Hook made Zarina loads of promises too. Look how that turned out. Look how you turned out. The blue dust is gone again. You're going to try and take my winter away aren't you?"

Here we go again. Same shit, different day. Yeah, Willem was tired of that shit too.

"It's not your winter! It's Pan's! And it'll never be your winter ever again if you don't help us. This is Pan's sleeping death winter and if it doesn't ever end you'll never get to frost the leaves again. None of the frost fairies will ever get to do any of their jobs again because the Hollow is dying. The whole forest is dying. Even the Enchanted 100 Acre Woods is dying. Magical places are dying, Periwinkle. What's that tell you? Not anything good. The pixies are needed in the forest. All of you, all seasons of you, to do all your jobs. All talents are important to the forest. You have to see that. You guys are never going to be able to frost leaves for spooky season, for hot tea, or fuzzy sweaters, and slippers, and hoodies. Never for the transition snow days from school and building snowmen. No frost on window sills for people to open doors and take a big breath of chilly air. Not if this blizzard kills everything and it all ends and there's never any new frost. Open your eyes. We have to wake up Pan and defeat this winter somehow so the frost fairies can actually have their jobs back. Don't you want your job back?"

Woah.

Periwinkle stood there gobsmacked. She hadn't looked at that way before. She was so glad to be surrounded by winter everywhere with no boundaries for once it didn't even dawn on her what had been stolen from her.

"W-w-well when you put it that way."

"That's what I thought."

"So, what do suggest?"

"That's why I brought Hook back." He finally admitted to her.

Then he told her the truth, no pirate lies to it. He actually went with honestly. Hook was back in from New Zealand (the only part he omitted was Delta's permission because he'd never speak on his original mission as it was need to know info) and the old Captain was back in labyrinth. Even Periwinkle didn't know where Pan's labyrinth was or how to get in, so she was on the edge of her seat as the story was told. What she noticed was the way he told it. He was good story teller. It reminded her of the Wendybird Tink was always jealous of. The boy could really spin a yarn. It made her wonder if Hook could talk like that. She didn't know him personally like that.

What really got her the most was when he explained he knew the history of his mother Tink's twin wings with Periwinkle. He even admitted it was his father Hook that told him about it, not Tink. Poor Periwinkle didn't even know Tink had died long before she could have even told Willem all this. So the story was sadder to her than it was to Will. Having to picture Hook knowing all her personal stories was odd for her. But, the what mattered was she got the point. She looked over Willem's wings and could see the similiarity to Tinker Bell's.

"It just might work. It's worth a try." She'd eventually say.

He looked back at Figaro. "What was that you were saying about convincing again, Smalls?" He felt like he pulled that off easily enough for as much as he was sweating it. Who knew the truth could set him free? "Add pretty, charming. and cleverness to the Wild Will talents."

They could hopefully start fighting the winter now with the magic of their wings. Hook and Pan would start the war. What worried Will was what would come later. The fall out of him doing this to his father. He couldn't predict that.

Figaro’s powers weren’t the most useful for this expedition, but they trotted along like they belonged there, just because Willem had wanted them there. They didn’t have magical light or magical wings that they could use to lighten up the darkness, but they did also have their cellphone so there was that, another light if they needed it. Still made them feel helpful.

“Gawsh,” Figaro said, in an imitation of Goofy. “Your wings are looking mighty pretty today, Willem.”

But there wasn’t much time for more compliments as the maze began to shake. They were a step away from pulling a Scooby Doo and jumping into Hook’s or Willem’s arms but instead they put their hands against the wall to keep themselves up. “Jinkies-” They groaned, putting their arm over their head for now, trying to avoid the soot that was falling down. Their nose wrinkled and they looked back to Willem to see if he was okay -

Only to see the familiar sweater, which made their mouth feel drier than anything. Of course they knew that sweater. They could list everything that had been in their father’s closet. Knew it better than their own, ol’ Gepetto had a snazzy-grandpa sense of style.

Mind games. Like the anime movie that they watched on shrooms once. They bit on their tongue to stop themselves from getting emotional at the sight of the outfit. Were they as over their father’s death as they sometimes pretended to be? God - never. That was always going to be the biggest pain of their life. More so than any of the friends that they had lost. Hell, if Fig had lost Willem too that night, they would have just walked off into the fog themself, having nothing left to live for. They never said that to Willem but - it was certainly a thought that had been in their head.

“Pull your bootstraps up to your nipples kid, we got work to do,” They said in their most authoritative tone, even if they were shaken themselves. “We’re in a place that would scare eight lives out of a cat in one shake, so we gotta be phoenixes.”

At least Hook had confidence - for now. Then that seemed to sink quickly as everything was becoming clear. Though this was obviously causing Figaro pain, and Willem pain, it was going to affect Hook the most. If only they could replace that hook with something like .. a teddy bear so he could take this test out on it rather than on Will.

They stayed in their lane for this one, though looked between the two like it was a tennis match. They were all ready to get up in arms when Hook yanked on the sweater though, hands up, fisticuffs, ready to give the one two if that hook slipped through the fabric and hurt Will.

“Oi, mind your business!” Figaro said back to the echo, not that it would do much good. It was an echo. It wasn’t the person saying the things in the first place.

Oof, they caught that motion and gave a subtle thumbs up in return, ready to leave, even if it meant leaving Hook behind. This wasn’t an Ohana moment, unfortunately. They had to leave family behind. Hook - and the Sweater.

“Peace out homeslice,” They said, before clutching onto Willem’s hand and going with the flow - right back out into the blizzard again. Without the mask on, it stung at their face, feeling like little ice swords were pelting their skin. Seeing Will in a worse predicament, they removed one of their layers, the bulky coat, and tossed it over to him. “We suffer, we suffer together, DaFriend.”

“It’s gonna take a lot of convincing,” They said, not exactly sure if Willem’s charm was going to be enough to get the task done. If only they could pause life and open a skill tree like in a video game and put more points into charisma for this. They secured the mask back on top of their head, their breath heating it up and causing that clammy latexy feeling that felt gross, but still felt better than the cold. “But hey - that’s only like four things. We got this.”

They squeezed his hand for extra warmth, not letting go, at least, not until it would get too cold and they had to bring their hands into the sleeves for protection against nasty, nasty frostbite. “I swear to fuck though, I never want to see snow again.”

#willemxfigaro

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lit-works · 2 years ago

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City in Darkness

Interlude

Deep beneath the city, a hovercraft settles to rest outside an entrance to an underground labyrinth unrecorded on any city maps. Two men, dressed in green uniforms, disembark, Manhandling a bound human between them, a form struggling in a bulky sttaightjacket. The pair and their prisoner approach the entrance, and a set of massive doors slide open to receive them.

Th bound figure is not gagged, and his voice rings down the tunnels as his captors half-lead, half-carry him onward.

"Dolts!" Shouts the captive. "Don't you realize who I am?! Don't you know what I can do? I demand you turn me loose, now, fools!" The captors make no acknowledgement of the captive's demand, but here him through another set of doors.

Max Dillon, called Electro by those who know and fear him, is pushed roughly through the doors into a small cell, empty save for a circle of bright light. His captors shove him harder than necessary, and he topples to his knees in the center of the light. The doors clank shut and lock behind him, and he is left alone. His solitude is broken by a crackling voice that emits from a hidden loudspeaker.

"Welcome to my sanctuary, Electro," Intones the voice. "I am sorry you had to receive such rough treatment at the hands of my hired help, but they were instructed not to let you out of your insulated straightjacket until we have had a talk. I have need of you, Electro–of you and your special talents."

Electro blinks in the blindingly strong light for a moment, straining at his bindings.

"I–I know your voice!" He says, staggering to his feet. "I know you! Listen, we can work together! Between the two of us, we could recreate the Sinister Six!"

The only reply is a long, throaty laugh that reverberates in the cell long after the loudspeaker had been shut off.

End of interlude

#marvel #marvel comics #marvel characters #comic books #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic series #marvel fanfic #my fanfiction #l1t3rat1 #spider man #electro #doc ock #sinister six

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saintmurd0ck · 3 years ago

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his saving grace | matt murdock x reader | one-shot

masterlist

Summary: Matt tells you how much he loves you.

Warnings: Mention of blood/injuries, some religious references

Matt’s eyes fluttered open as he slowly regained consciousness, hand instinctively flying to the bloodied bandage on his side. His hazy memory of the previous night did little to answer his questions, but he figured the coppery smell of his Daredevil suit laying on the ground was explanation enough. Matt reached across, his agonising body protesting the movement, fingers closing around the opened blister packet of aspirin on his nightstand.

As he waited for the dull ache in his ribs and pounding in his head to subside, he turned towards you. The sound of your soft exhales comforted him, soothing him to his very core.

He could feel the buttery light of the sun filtering into the room, sensing how the rays settled on you as you slept.

The walls that Matt put up, the ironclad barrier around his identity, were not for his protection, but for that of his loved ones. He had learned early on that his life was one made for solitude, one that required sacrifice. Exposing his identity, even to those he loved, was a risk Matt couldn’t afford. He’d come too close, too many times.

With you, he felt the labyrinth of his boundaries shift. Something about you took his walls down with every breath, with every word you uttered. Something about you allowed him to be vulnerable, in a way that the only closer you two could get was if Matt cracked open his chest to expose his beating heart.

You noticed his change from within.

His unwavering hazel gaze, once shrouded in torment, began to soften. He became more present in the moment with you, instead of turning his head at every siren flying past. Simply, he began to smile more.

You were Matt’s saving grace, his morning and his evening star.

Matt tipped his head upwards, a silent prayer of thanks falling from his lips.

Moving closer to you, he brushed your hair off your shoulder, pressing a small kiss to where his fingers grazed your skin. He winced at the pressure on his stitches, but savoured the moment, tangling his fingers in your hair, your heartbeat echoing in his ears.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” Matt murmured against your shoulder. He lifted his head up, tilting it in all directions, as if to make sure no one else was here to listen to what he was about to say.

“Well, I mean, I tell you I love you all the time, but,” he chuckled, “I don’t think you have any idea. I’ve always been alone, and I thought I was… better for it…” he paused, letting a furtive smile blossom across his face.

“It’s hard sometimes, figuring out who I am.” Matt sighed, tracing circles on your back. “But it’s like you have this,” his face contorted, “grip on me. You make me want to continue being Matt Murdock.”

“I wanna make Hell’s Kitchen a better place, I always have, but now… it’s because of you.”

Matt felt a wave of anger ripple through his body, grinding his teeth as it seared his wounds. “Sometimes I hate that I let you in, ‘cause I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you because of that…” he trailed off.

You stirred in your sleep, the movement catching Matt off-guard. He pressed his lips together, urging himself to keep going. “I question why God chose me as His soldier, especially when He put the Devil in me.”

Matt’s chest caved as he lowered his voice, almost stumbling over his words. “Now I realise He sent me an angel to guide me.”

Matt closed his eyes as he finally allowed rest to take over, feeling the aspirin relieve his pain.

On your side of the bed, your open eyes glistened as a single tear rolled down your face.

“I love you more than you’d ever know, Matthew,” you whispered, loud enough that he could hear it above his sleep.

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock fanfic #rhi writes 💻#x reader #the gospel of st murdock

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katytheinspiredworkaholic · 2 years ago

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The Construct of Time, Chapter 06

Pairing: HotchReid

Written For: The HotchReid Valentine’s Day Trope Challenge, Trope Assignments = Historical AU, Time Travel

Summary: The year is 1924, half a decade after the first World War, and a few years before the Great Depression would devastate the nation. It is a time of contradiction: the modernist uprising of science and innovation, met with a traditionalist, fearful desire to cling to the past in a fast-evolving, urbanist society. And on this morning in Washington D.C. an unmarked package is left outside the office of Aaron ‘Hotch’ Hotchner, P.I., with a note simply telling him to find the rest, and a substantial price tag attached. What he finds in this package is something he has never seen before, hundreds of years old, and he barely knows where to start trying to find more like it. Ultimately he is pointed towards someone that may just have a clue what to do with his charge: a Classics Historian working in the basements of the Smithsonian, Dr. Spencer Reid. Together, what they discover sends them on a break-neck chase across the city, searching for a mysterious collection of powerful artifacts, and the people that are trying to sell them. Forever changing everything they know about the world, the people in it, truth, lies, love, and the fragile construct of time.

Rating: Mature/Explicit (to be determined)

Chapter CW/notes: More flirting, more character introductions, more historical and scientific inaccuracies I’m sure. This fic is so tame in comparison to my others xD and I like blatantly ignore/barely hint at period-typical racism, homophobia, and sexism in this chapter. It’s my fic I can do what I want. My characters are decent human beings in the 1920′s, I’m sure it happened. The action is picking up! Cool stuff coming up soon! No beta and probably sporting some mistakes, I apologize, but thank you for reading anyway. 💕

Word Count: 4852

Masterpost Link

Ao3 Link

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Chapter 06: Community Outreach

–

The bell above the door chimes soft and delicate as Spencer and Hotch enter a carpentry shop in one of the older corners of town. It's an area the Private Detective hasn't ever really ventured into, he had no reason before today, and is pleasantly surprised at the bustle of life along the brick-house lined streets. The shop Spencer has led them to is filled to the brim with furniture and antiques alike. Some in desperate need of repair, some shining like new although they boast the same age as the buildings themselves. And the craftsmanship, it's gorgeous – Hotch is so distracted by the towering items creating a labyrinth of walkways that he nearly loses Spencer once inside the door. Thank God he's as tall as he is and easy to spot.

"Well, well – do my eyes deceive me? Has the great scholar finally left his cave of solitude to see what life is like in the daylight?" A deep, pleasant baritone echoed from the back of the shop, right where Hotch could spot Spencer heading towards. Behind a long work counter was a black man with a blindingly handsome smile, clean shaven from the top of his head to his chin save for some very expressive eyebrows that conveyed his jest in the most charming way. Square-jawed and broad shouldered, he leaned over the counter to greet Spencer who was smiling just the same. Ducking his head at the other man's teasing.

"With friends like you it's a wonder I ever leave the castle basement," Spencer quips back, and the man feigns a wound as if shot through the chest. Dramatic and even bringing a lighter smile to twitch at Hotch's lips. But it was easy to hold back, as a darker jealous emotion hangs heavy in his stomach at the easy interaction. Curiosity his only saving grace.

"That hurts, pretty boy, that hurts!" the man laughs as he straightens back up, just as smoothly clearing up some of the space on his work bench. "So what brings you here during normal folks' waking hours?" His warm, dark eyes slide to Hotch as the man sidles up to Spencer – indicating he wasn't a lurking customer. They came together. Just in case this mysterious friend had missed that little detail. "And who's the spook?"

Hotch does quirk a small smile at that. Fair enough, he supposed. He did look a little intimidating for midday and in this part of town.

Spencer turns to Hotch, revealing just how much his face had indeed lightened at the interaction, and the soft glow of it is enough to ease the warring apprehension in his chest. "This is P.I. Aaron Hotchner, I'm assisting him in a case he's investigating."

"Hmph, you sure you don't mean Agent Hotchner?" the other man says in a slightly more serious jest, giving Hotch a very thorough once-over as he sizes him up. "Looks like a Fed if I've ever seen one."

"No," Hotch answers, inviting himself into the conversation. "I work for myself and no one else."

"I can respect that," the man hums, and then extends his hand after having it cleared of wood polish and saw dust. "Derek Morgan."

"Sergeant Derek Morgan," Spencer corrects, earning him a cheeky smile in return. Their friendship is easy, well-honed, and they are still a surprising pair but Hotch maintains a polite demeanor as he observes them. But Spencer turns directly to Hotch, the companionable air dissipating back into the meat of what they are doing there. "We met through a military function at the Smithsonian a couple years ago. He's one of the best problem solvers I know. Mechanics, architecture, social situations, mathematics – even the ancient water heater in the Smithsonian basement."

"Oh you flatter me, but that is how you got me to fix that rickety old hunk of junk to start with," Srgt. Morgan laughs under his breath, that wide smile back on his face. "Which means you need something from me. Again."

"Consider yourself flattered, then. How often do I ask you for help?"

"Is it a day ending in Y already?" Srgt. Morgan ponders. Spencer hits him with a book that he magically conjured from his satchel.

"Academic help, you menace," he scolds, then hands over the worn, cloth-bound novel. "Here, I found this in a shipment from Venice. Pretty sure it's on your wish list to Santa Claus."

"Yes, oh you sticky-fingered thief you are so good to me," the other man cackles in delight, flipping through the pages of what looks like an old architecture tome completely hand-written in Italian. "One of these days you're going to get in trouble for being my own personal Robin Hood."

"Stop, you're going to give Aaron the wrong idea about me," Spencer bemoans, turning to Hotch and stage whispering. "It's a loan, he returns them to the museum when he's done with them. I just like sharing knowledge with those who appreciate it."

"Oh I'm going to appreciate the heck out of this beauty," Srgt. Morgan grins nearly salaciously and Spencer gags on air.

"Stop, you are so embarrassing."

"This is how you ask for favors? Bribery and insults?" he teases further, and Hotch is now fully chuckling under his breath. They bicker like he and his brother Sean used to, when they were still on speaking terms.

"It seems to be the only language you speak," Spencer shoots back. "Now do you want to hear what I have for you, or should I take my bribes elsewhere?"

"No, no, don't get in a twist. You know I'm always happy to help the sweetest string bean on the block. Whatcha got for me?"

Spencer has no hesitation sharing the puzzle box with his friend, immediately pulling it from his satchel and delicately placing it on the man's workbench. Opening its casing and removing the lightweight puzzle within with care. Sergeant Morgan goes quiet, curious, professionally so, and begins to look the object over expertly. Feather-light touches as he turns it in many directions, as he mulls the puzzle over between his work-rough hands.

"Nice grain, soft wood, chestnut: better for carving. Popular in Europe, especially Italy," he says as if mentioning the weather. "Yep, Italian renaissance is my guess. But the mechanics are genius. It's almost like a Spanish lockbox, but –" he doesn't open the box, but manages to move a few of the panels. The box twisting and clicking as he maneuvers them. It was more than Hotch could have done when he first inspected the box. "Fascinating."

"We're worried it houses some kind of explosive or booby trap," Spencer explains, worrying his hands in front of him like he wants to snatch the puzzle back before Srgt. Morgan accidentally gets too careless with it.

"You see how large these turning mechanisms are? And the turn radius?" Srgt. Morgan demonstrates as he speaks, the dials encompassing the entire box and moving whole facets at a time. The man shakes his head at their question. "The majority of the box is dedicated to the puzzle's mechanics, so it's not going to leave room for much else. No explosive is that small, even loose gunpowder wouldn't do much damage without something to light a spark." It's an assurance that gives both Hotch and Spencer relief, Spencer's more plain on his face.

"Could one of the sides turning make a spark?" Hotch questions.

"Sure, if the metal could somehow be exposed to the air, I suppose. But I've never heard of anything like that, and this thing doesn't weigh enough to contain the metal pieces inside it."

"How do you know all this?" Call it a detriment of his profession, but Hotch is very much suspicious over anyone that conveniently falls into his lap or speaks too confidently out of the blue.

"I was a landmine and explosives expert in the service," Srgt. Morgan says. Not taking offense, outwardly, but being questioned about his qualifications did not appear to be a favorite pastime of his. Hotch is sure the man has had his fair share, out there in the world. "I know a thing or two."

"I'd expect a landmine expert to be missing a few limbs, or fingers," Hotch says, amicable as he can manage, deftly changing his tone to straddle the line of professional and companionable. His questioning weren't personal, after all, and this was a close friend of Spencer's. A social call required a different approach to a business related one. "Or have at least some battle scars."

"Well not only was I good at what I did, I made no limb-threatening mistakes – and was very lucky when I almost did." He flashes a bright, charming smile as he plays into Hotch's offered olive branch. "Word of advice? A good bomb expert still has all his fingers and toes."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"So now that you aren't afraid to breathe on it wrong," Srgt. Morgan teases, holding up the box between the two men as he leans on the workbench. "You mind telling me what kind of case a P.I. gets caught up in that deals with something like this? Whatever this is?"

"This," Spencer interrupts, immediately taking back the delicate puzzle box. He'd reached his limit of restraint, apparently. "Is a very old piece of very important history–"

"I gathered as much."

" –which should be handled carefully. Instead of waved around like a brick." Spencer scowls at him, only making Srgt. Morgan laugh, and Hotch allows himself a much more subtle smile all his own.

"You scold like my grandmama," Morgan teases.

"And if I had a wooden spoon I'd smack you with one like her, too," Spencer snaps.

"At least you aren't hitting me with your purse."

"It's a satchel!"

"Boys," Hotch drones, then smirks at his slip up. "Gentleman. Let's get back on task, shall we?" Sergeant Morgan straightens back up, smirking in victory, and Spencer flushes pink at Hotch's mild reprimand. "So we've determined the box isn't a weapon, or dangerous, per your expertise." He nods to the other man, who tilts his head and eyes him like he can't tell if he's being chastised or not. "Sp- Dr. Reid values your opinion, and trusts you, and I trust him." There's layers to those words, a meaning behind them that has the good sergeant narrowing his gaze to a much more closed off and calculating look. Hotch showed a few too many of his cards there. Oops. "Maybe you can help us with another part of the case? You seem familiar with the antique and auction business," Hotch points out, gesturing to the establishment surrounding them.

"This is my family's store," Morgan explains. "My pops passed, but my Ma and sisters run it very well. They know their furniture. A lot of our pieces end up at Christie's and Southerby's across the pond. I'm just learning the ropes, after being in the service so long."

"Please," Spencer chides. "He's too modest. The Morgan family does more restorations in the city with more accuracy than anyone else I've encountered. He's been studying the craft like he's attending medical school."

"Oh, I was mistaken. Flattery will get you everywhere, pretty boy," Srgt. Morgan grins.

"So, what's the chance you've heard of a private auction that would have something like this up for bid?" Hotch questions, nodding to the puzzle box.

"Something like that? Not anywhere in my market, or adjacent ones, and I'm known to wander into the wrong room most of the time," Morgan says, feigning bashful. "Call me a snoop. And I would have noticed something like that on the block."

He turns and gives Spencer a look just this side of jest.

"You know who you need to talk to about secret auction meetings, right?"

Spencer is quiet, drawing Hotch's attention as well.

"Yes," he admits, slowly. "But – I didn't want to get her in trouble." Morgan outright laughs at him at that.

"Oh no, she'll be tickled pink. And she'll get a kick out of your G-man."

Hotch can't help the firm scowl. He has a reputation, after all.

"Not FBI."

"Whatever you say man." Morgan says, his hands raised in feigned surrender.

Spencer packs up the puzzle box into his satchel with care, a warm smile to his friend (and possibly at Hotch's expense). "Thank you for your help. I feel much safer knowing this won't blow up a city block while we're walking down it."

"Anytime, pretty boy," Sergeant Morgan smiles, bright and blinding and quickly shifting to something far more mischievous as they turn to leave the shop. "Give my baby girl a kiss for me."

Spencer trips over thin air, sputtering in protest.

"I will do no such thing!"

He would have slammed the door if Hotch wasn't the one holding it open for him, making the older man chuckle and Srgt. Morgan's deep baritone laughter follow them into the midday sun.

—

Their venture across the city takes them this time to a quiet corporate office building just on the line of Capitol Hill, large enough to house more than one enterprise – but Hotch is surprised to discover is entirely owned by the telephone operating service. Spencer seems to know his way around, as he does in every building they enter, Hotch notices, so the men don't bother with the line at reception or even the directory. They weave through hallways and stairwells that all look the same (the academy aesthetic had been starting to grow on him) until finally spilling into a vast room filled with rows and rows of switchboards. Men and women every six feet sporting headsets and speaking pieces and dozens of wires and connector cables. All talking. All moving. It's busy and organized and absolute chaos – the layout alone feels overwhelming to take in. Spencer walks speedily through it, and Hotch doesn't blame him one bit. The historian only speaks to a floor manager, quietly to the point Hotch can barely hear them, for a moment before they are directed to a set of elevators that don't access the rest of the building.

They only drop to the basement levels. Again.

"What is it about basement offices?" Hotch questions once the doors close, the comfortable muffled quiet pressing in around them.

"No one can sneak in through a window," Spencer says, shrugging and offering a small quirk of a smile. It warms Hotch more than sunshine ever could.

In a private room on sub-basement level three, a single occupant takes over a space the size of an entire row in the operation center above. The walls are adorned in the brightest colors, cabinets and desktop areas blanketed in gleaming figurines, crocheted knitting arrangements, ornate glassware, dolls and toys alike – and at the center of it all sits a woman just as vibrant. With bouncing golden curls, voluptuous heavy curves decked out in a dress fit for 5th avenue, red lipstick and a gorgeously placed beauty mark revealed when she spins to look at them. Holding up a manicured finger, indicating to stay quiet as they entered.

"Yes sir. Thank you kindly," she chirps pleasant and sweet into her mouthpiece, and with a flick of her wrist, jewelry chiming, hands moving fast and without a second glance to her movements she weaves phone lines and flips switches with ease. Smiling brightly back into the phone piece a mere moment later. "Samson? Let the congressman know I have the Italian ambassador on the line." They disconnect before Hotch can blink in surprise. "You're welcome," she chides to no one, spinning on her stool and adjusting her skirts to address them. Eyes finally focusing on –"

"Oh, as I live and breathe! Dr. Spencer Reid! Ah, what a pleasant surprise." And she's up, across the room, kissing his cheeks adoringly, shamelessly leaving behind red smudges of rouge and lipstick. "That's how they do it in Paríe."

"How affectionate," Spencer murmurs, trying to wipe the color from his cheeks though some seems to be a permanent pigmentation having nothing to do with the makeup and everything to do with the kisses. "This is P.I. Hotchner, I'm consulting with him on a case. Mr. Hotchner," Spencer says it so easily and Hotch has to clench his jaw tight to hide how it makes his blood heat up in a very unprofessional way, "this is a very good friend of mine, Ms. Penelope Garcia."

"My, my, aren't you handsome. Where have you been hiding this one, Spence?" Hotch takes his hat off to greet her, and she practically giggles in exhilaration. "And so polite, too! Please tell me those gentlemanly manners come with a sultry Southern drawl."

"I'm afraid I lost the accent sometime around my second year at Harvard," Hotch tells her, offering his customary delegation smile he also learned at his alma malter. What can he say? He knows who it works for. Ms. Garcia practically pouts as she flirts back.

"Such a shame."

"Penny, please," Spencer groans out. "Professionalism. What have we talked about?"

"There's a time and a place, and when you look at me like that," she pokes his nose for emphasis, shattering the attempted chastisement on the young man's face, "that means now is not that time. Fine, I get it. You called dibs. Message received." Spencer's cheeks now nearly match Ms. Garcia's lipstick in his embarrassment, not that the other woman seems to be bothered by it. Blunt and straightforward was not something Hotch was used to in this day and age, his eyebrows raised comically at her statement. "So what can I do for you fine gentleman today?"

"We-" Spencer sputters a minute, clutching his satchel to his chest in his mild panic. "We needed your help, need your help – with information. For a case. Aar- Mr. Hotchner's case. That I'm consulting on. Officially. Professionally." Ms. Garcia clearly bites the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at her friend. Her perfectly applied lipstick makes it easy to see the smile she is fighting, however. "Quiet, you. I'm actually here for your help."

"What a compliment," she says, grinning like the cat that got extra cream in their saucer. "So what does the great Dr. Spencer Reid need to know that he can't find in his beloved books?"

"We're looking for information about an auction that's about to take place, or might have already taken place," Hotch interrupts, saving Spencer from tripping over his tongue once more. He also steps closer, a solid presence to give him something to gravitate towards. Their close proximity sends his very nerve-endings into a crackling excitement. "It would be private, very elite, which I'm gathering you know something about."

"Something. Basically everything," Ms. Garcia sighs. "You would think being a switchboard operator would just mean the usual duties: providing information, connecting long distance calls, just making sure all these high profile people get their phone conversations running smoothly. But I basically do every kind of telephone operating work except climbing a pole."

With a short drop and spin into her chair, she pushes herself down the line, wheels on the feet of her stool, and starts digging through drawers and file cabinets. "I'm in charge of connecting all the top secret lines in the District; the White House, congress, FBI, CIA, you name it – I'm in charge of it. They still use wire connectors, for privacy, and this fancy room so no one can be caught snooping. Can't tap a line if I'm the one controlling who gets to listen." Stacks upon stacks of paper appear next, as she lifts them and places them on the long counter-top. "These are what was transcribed so far the past week, but our new girl who listens to the recordings has a little bit of a spelling issue. So good luck."

There must have been three thousand pages of typed up conversations. Hotch feels dread sink deep into his stomach. This was going to take them days to sort out.

"You're really going to just let us read through this?" Hotch questions instead.

"Oh, no no no – Dr. Reid has security clearance, you do not," she answers, pointing at them each in turn. "Good looks only get you so far in life. Plus, do you really want to read through all of that?"

Hotch most certainly did not.

"Well, I doubt Dr. Reid wants to, either," Hotch mutters, hating to point out the obvious. He'd feel very uncomfortable assigning the man to the task and then just watching him work.

"Why?" Ms. Garcia looks genuinely puzzled, and Spencer is already pulling a stack as thick as a briefcase is wide towards himself. "It'll take him no time at all." Spencer glances a little guiltily at Hotch, for what reason the man could not even fathom, until the young historian begins to read through the transcripts.

Hotch watches in absolute stunned confusion.

What happens next borders on the absurd. Spencer reads through the stack at a speed that can't be possible. His finger traces down each page, mouth moving fast as he speaks each word under his breath, and turns a page every 20 seconds. Hotch counts. Wordlessly holds his wrist up so he can watch the seconds tick by with each count of the tiny golden piece on his watch. 20 seconds, a page flips, 20 more seconds, another page; and Spencer doesn't stop for nearly an hour. Eventually, Hotch takes the offered chair Ms. Garcia gestures to, and lets the younger man work. He stares in astonishment, and Spencer is so busy he doesn't notice. Ms. Garcia certainly does, though, and is grinning from ear to ear at Hotch's flabbergasted expression.

"He's amazing, isn't he," she whispers.

"Remarkable. Beyond." Hotch can barely believe what he's witnessing with his own eyes. How could anyone read that fast?

What else could Dr. Spencer Reid possibly do that would leave Hotch so floored? Every day, every meeting, every moment, the other man comes up with new ways to surprise him. Entice him. Hotch is mesmerized by everything the other man does, and he's finding it increasingly difficult to keep that information to himself.

"I've got something," Spencer says after a long while, holding up a page towards the end of the stack, rereading it over and over with a scrutinizing look in those honey-hazel eyes. Hotch is on his feet and standing behind the man in an instant, leaning down to read over his shoulder – too close? Possibly. But only Ms. Garcia is there to witness it, and she had seen him staring at the other man for the past hour. There were no secrets here. "They don't mention an auction, but they mention a historic collection and a Georgetown professor giving them clearance into Qatar airspace for 'transportation of academic materials.' The charter is named Quantico, and it was set to leave from a private flightline in Alexandria."

"I know it well," Hotch admits. "That has to be it. When was this?"

"A few days ago," Spencer reveals with a smile, that only falters for a moment. "Odd, their terminology here sounds like this has already happened."

"That could be a mis-type," Ms. Garcia added, eavesdropping. "Told you, the typist is new. She misspelled Washington the other day."

Spencer nods along, and then keeps reading another page or so, his hand stilling so suddenly Hotch feels the reverberation. "Oh no."

"What?"

"There's… there's some mention of a criminal element, and some government agencies in Europe that should not want anything to do with these items. They're assigned to intercept the charter, and–," his voice goes quiet, and Hotch is standing so close he knows the words are meant solely for him. Spencer turns to look at him over his shoulder, realizing a little late how close Hotch was hovering, but the amount of terror reflecting in his gaze is enough for Hotch to understand the inference the other man made.

Some very powerful people were hoping to do some very terrible things with the items Hotch was sent to find. If anyone discovered that these items could actually conduct the hidden fourth facet of alchemy, then this wasn't just a case to retrieve the artifacts for a client. This was far greater than that. And far above Hotch's paygrade.

Unfortunately, he also happened to be in the best position to do something about it.

"I think it's time I take a turn in consulting my own experts in the field," Hotch says gravely, standing up to his full height and retrieving his coat and hat. "If those items are dispersed to the international underworld, we will never see them again." Whatever Professor Blake had tried to arrange, those artifacts were not going to any academics or museums of origin like she'd planned.

"But what can we do?" Spencer asked, standing up and scrambling to gather his own things.

"I know the man who owns that flightline," Hotch explains. "Nothing goes in or out of that airfield without that certain someone's say so." Someone who shared some of his best Scotch with Hotch just the day before. He just hopes Dave doesn't directly know about anything that is going on, or somehow became involved since he'd last spoken to him.

Spencer is beside him the next time he looks up.

"I'm coming with you."

Hotch isn't proud to admit that he hesitates.

"I won't take no for an answer," Spencer states.

"No."

"Yes! You are going to be leaving your informant and heading straight to the airfield afterwards, it only makes sense I come with you!" Spencer argues, side stepping to stay right in Hotch's space as the man tries to circle around him. "You can't just double back and come get me. And I'm hardly just going to go sit and wait in Alexandria until you are done talking to your crime boss or whoever it is–"

"You aren't going to Alexandria, either," Hotch says, stern and final, making Spencer gape at him. "You are taking the artifacts back to the Smithsonian."

"And what? Just sit on my hands until you deem me worthy of assisting you?"

Hotch does scowl at him then, petulant should not be an attractive look on anyone and Hotch was determinedly not thinking about those avenues when they could be dealing with potential life-threatening situations. "If something were to go wrong, which it very well could, then I would rather you be somewhere out of the line of fire."

"And then I would never forgive myself if something were to happen to you," Spencer says, no hesitation and adrenaline making his heartbeat pulse visibly at his throat. He swallows thickly, the admission ringing loudly in the room, and Hotch watches the expressions on his face flit from one emotion to the next. An invigorated flush to Spencer's cheeks that he wants to feel beneath his hands. "Don't ask me to stay behind. If something happens and I'm not there, I –"

His voice fails him, and it takes everything in Hotch to not reach out to the man.

"What exactly do you plan to do, if something were to happen?" he asks, not unkindly, but it draws those beautiful eyes back to Hotch's face and a barely there smile of disbelief graces those lips.

"Well, I have been known to talk my way out of anything."

Hotch finds his shoes rooted to the floor, unable to look away for anything, and feels his own expression soften. It feels like melting. He smiles, small and real, and just for Spencer.

"It seems you can talk yourself into anything, too," he murmurs lowly. Spencer flushes deeper in response.

Ms. Garcia clears her throat, making the two men jump about two feet apart.

"Yes, hi – still here. My office, and all that," she practically giggles, watching from her chair. "Didn't want to interrupt your lover's spat or anything, but do y'all want me to call you a car or something so you can get this show on the road?" Hotch sighs and nods, while Spencer ducks his head down to hide his lobster-red flush, tucking hair behind his ear nervously.

"Thank you," Hotch mentions as Ms. Garcia waves them out the door. "For your help, and your… discretion." He coughs, struggling to admit the word.

"You are most very welcome," she beams at him. "Just make sure you take care of our mutual friend, keep him out of any gunfights."

"Will do," Hotch answers, putting on his hat and tipping it just to see her laugh. Instead she pinches his cheek and sends him on his way with a kiss to the other.

"Thanks, doll. Hope to see you again real soon. Your taxi is waiting on the curb!" She calls, stunning him silent and making Spencer burst out laughing. The young scholar has to lead him out of the room, taking Hotch's larger hand in his own, neither noticing that their fingers interweave together perfectly. Not until they were already back in the elevator.

—

tbc…

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Tagged list so far: @physics-magic @thaddeusly @sideblogforcrimpy @anxious-enby @t4tpoisondamage

(To be added to the taglist just send me a message via comment, reblog, ask, or DM!)

#I don't have much to say about this one sadly except I LOVE writing Morgan and Spencer dynamics #and Penny and Spencer dynamics #and Hotch and Penny dynamics #I have my favorites. Clearly #HotchReid #Heid #The Construct of Time #katyswriting

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ginkgomoon · 4 years ago

Text

MLQC as The Phantom Of The Opera Lyrics

The Phantom Of The Opera is coming to my state and I'm so excited to be watching the musical live this year. I've been a fan of the musical and movie for a long time now, and never thought they'd come to my country!

The Phantom Of The Opera by Andrew Lloyd Webber is one of the most successful and well-known musicals. Based on the 1910 novel of the same name by Gaston Leroux, its central plot revolves around a beautiful soprano, Christine Daaé, who becomes the obsession of a mysterious, disfigured musical genius living in the subterranean labyrinth beneath the Paris Opéra House.

This post was inspired by its music, and I found some interestingly funny parralels! If you have heard of it then that would be amazing because we have something else in common, too!

Links to the music is provided on the title of corresponding song of the character! Have a listen to enhance your experience 🎭

Gavin-

Think Of Me Think of all the things We've shared and seen Don't think about the way Things might have been

Think of me, think of me waking Silent and resigned Imagine me trying too hard To put you from my mind Recall those days Look back on all those times Think of the things we'll never do There will never be a day When I won't think of you Can it be, can it be Christine (MC)? Long ago, it seems so long ago How young and innocent we were She may not remember me But I remember her

All I Ask Of You No more talk of darkness Forget these wide-eyed fears I'm here, nothing can harm you My words will warm and calm you Let me be your freedom Let daylight dry your tears I'm here, with you, beside you To guard you and to guide you

Lucien-

Music Of The Night Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation Darkness stirs and wakes imagination Silently the senses abandon their defences

Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before Let your soul take you where you long to be Only then can you belong to me

Floating, falling, sweet intoxication Touch me, trust me, savour each sensation Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in

*Lucien falls in love*- I Remember Fear can turn to love—you'll learn to see...

Damn you! Curse you! Now you cannot ever be free!

All I Ask Of You Share each day with me Each night, each morning Love me—that's all I ask of you Say you love me You know I do

Masquerade Masquerade! Hide your face, so the world will never find you! Masquerade! Every face a different shade Masquerade! Look around—there's another mask behind you!

Masquerade! Seething shadows, breathing lies... Masquerade! You can fool any friend who ever knew you!

Victor-

All I Ask Of You

Then say you'll share with me One love, one lifetime Let me lead you from your solitude Say you need me with you here, beside you Anywhere you go, let me go too Christine (MC), that's all I ask of you Say you'll share with me One love, one lifetime Say the word and I will follow you

Chapter 18 Down With This Murderer I love her! Does that mean nothing? I love her! Show some compassion... (Dark MC- The world showed no compassion to me!)

Kiro-

I Remember I remember there was mist Swirling mist upon a vast, glassy lake There were candles all around And on the lake, there was a boat And in the boat, there was a man Who was that shape in the shadows? Whose is the face in the mask?

All I Ask Of You Say you love me every waking moment Turn my head with talk of summertime Say you need me with you now and always Promise me that all you say is true That's all I ask of you Let me be your shelter Let me be your light You're safe, no one will find you Your fears are far behind you

All I want is freedom A world with no more night And you, always beside me To hold me and to hide me

Masquerade Masquerade! Hide your face, so the world will never find you! Masquerade! Every face a different shade Masquerade! Look around—there's another mask behind you!

Masquerade! Burning glances Turning heads... Masquerade! Stop and stare at the sea of smiles around you!

Shaw-

The Point Of No Return Past the point of no return No backward glances The games we played till now are at an end Past all thought of "if" or "when" No use resisting Abandon thought and let the dream descend

MC-

Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again You were once my one companion You were all that mattered You were once a friend and father Then my world was shattered

Wishing you were somehow here again Wishing you were somehow near Sometimes it seemed, if I just dreamed Somehow you would be here

Wishing I could hear your voice again Knowing that I never would Dreaming of you won't help me to do All that you dreamed I could

Wishing you were somehow here again Knowing we must say goodbye Try to forgive, teach me to live Give me the strength to try No more memories, no more silent tears No more gazing across the wasted years Help me say goodbye

All-

Notes Where is she?

You mean Carlotta?

I mean Miss Daaé (MC) Where is she? I want an answer!

Well, how should we know?

She's not with you then?

What's all this nonsense?

Of course not!

Monsieur don't argue Isn't this the letter you wrote?

Of course not!

Minor-

Notes Dear Firmin (MC), just a brief reminder My salary has not been paid

Whole storyline-

BLACK SWAN to STF-

So, it is to be war between us! But this time, clever friend, the disaster will be yours!

Poor Fool, He Makes Me Laugh [Instrumental interlude] [Scream]

Ladies and gentlemen. Please, remain in your seats. Do not panic; it was an accident ... simply an accident!

Dark MC-

Down With This Murderer Pity comes too late— Turn around and face your fate: An eternity of this before your eyes!

Nothing can save you now—except perhaps Christine (MC) ... Start a new life with me— Buy his freedom with your love! Refuse me, and you send your lover to his death! This is the choice— This is the point of no return!

#literally watched the entire movie for this #my tumblr keeps glitching #恋与制作人 #love and producer #mlqc #mlqc translation #mr love queens choice #mlqc cn #mlqc analysis #mlqc en #mlqc kiro #mlqc Lucien #mlqc victor #phantom of the opera #mlqc shaw #mlqc gavin

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chayacat · 4 years ago

Text

Devil’s Sweet Star (7)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut

***

Twinkle twinkle little star...

How I wonder what you are...

You hear this refrain as you try to escape him. You run desperately through these long corridors that follow each other and collide like an endless Labyrinth. But the more you advanced the more you heard that voice.

Hold your breath and count to ten...

Praise your Lord it’s soon the end...

You suddenly find yourself in front of a dead end. It's getting closer... A sinister sneer was heard.

Twinkle twinkle little star...

Time for you to fall and ... DIE.

A white mask appears in front of you with a knife in his hand. You wake up startled and sweaty, panting and putting a hand on your chest. Then a sigh of relief, all this was a nightmare. Since your conversation with Ghostface, this nightmare haunts you, this feeling of insecurity, knowing that it could appear at any time to kill you... it was horrible.

You're watching your alarm clock, 9:30. Fortunately for you, it's your day off, you have to take your day too, right? You stretch for a long time before heading to the bathroom to pass some water over your face.

“Come on, I've been through a lot worse than being the target of a fucking lunatic. He said that, until I tell the police, he won't kill me. He will eventually forget me, I'm sure... At least, I hope so.”

After you get dressed you leave the bathroom to prepare breakfast, then you sit in front of the television to find out the news of the day. As you listened to the news, your eyes turned to the pictures hanging on the walls.

A photo catches your attention in particular: Your parents sit at the beach, your mother holding you in her arms, your father smiling with all his teeth fresh bottles of beer in his hand. it was your uncle who took this picture and gave it to your mother as a souvenir. Then she gave it to you.

No brothers and sisters, you're an only child. But you didn’t have the feeling of solitude that all the unique children had because your parents have always been there. You shake your head, your eyes closed, then you get up to kiss the photo softly before sitting back on the sofa.

The information is quite repetitive nothing new, nor interesting. You change channels until you stumble upon a series, when someone knocks on the door. given the force in the door knocks, it could only be Mrs. Lawson who surely brought you your mail. or cookies.

“Mrs Lawson! Do you need something?” you said with a bright smile.

“Oh no my dear...in fact, I made cookies and I thought you would like to have some. I’ve followed your advices and James loves them more than before!” She responds with a laugh holding you a packet full of cookies.

“Well thanks! But please come in! I’ll make some tea! Earl Gray, I presume?

“Yes, Thank you sweetheart. What a lovely home you have! It's really different compared to the ancient tenant. He was always absent and this place was the kingdom of dust. Excepted for the bedroom and the bathroom, he never cleaned anything here.”

“Ewwww...Fortunately for him I wasn’t living here with him, otherwise I'll kick his ass for being such lazy. Don’t worry that’s not my case! This is and will stay as clean as the first day!” you said as you prepared and put the tea on the table. “You and Mr Lawson are a lovely couple; how did you meet him?”

“Oh, James and I, we've known each other since we were kids, we’re going to the same school. He was playful and a little impatient. But he was a loyal friend and his kindness was endless. And I'm not talking about the charm he had with women. The only flaw I can find is that he is often distracted and it's not new, I can’t remember how many times he goes to the infirmary. Then we each made our way... and 41 years ago, to the day, we dated. And since then, I've never left him. At 71 and 72 years old we still have the spirit we had when we were 30!” She chuckles before taking a sip of her tea.

“Well, your Kids must be proud to have parents who have loved each other so much all this time as you. And your grandchildren too! “

“oh, if only I had...Unfortunately, I am sterile and we have never been able to have children... but James never abandoned me even for that.”

“Oh...I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to...” You said really embarrassed.

“It’s nothing. Is this your family on those photos? Your parents must be proud to have a beautiful and kind girl like you. I envy them so much. It must have been difficult for them to see their little girl leave the house...I'll hope you call them sometimes to reassure them.”

You remain silent on her last words. The situation is...complicated and too many things come to your mind. Things you'd rather have forgotten forever. And others you want to keep until your last day. You talk for a few more minutes with Mrs. Lawson, whom you learned during the discussion that her name was Meredith, before she left your apartment smiling and more lightly having someone to talk to when her husband is not there.

You put everything in the sink to wash it, and the packet of cookies in one of the kitchen closets, where all your treats are usually located. But shhh... It's a secret. Then you look at the piece of paper on your fridge which is Jed’s number.

He gave it to you when needed. But you don't want to disturb him, risk his life. After all what will Ghostface do if he ever realizes that Jed is also in confidence? he said he would not kill him as it was because of him that he was the star of Roseville. But if he ever realizes that he knows far too much... You shake your head, preferring not to think in what state he might leave that poor Jed if the urge to kill him took Ghostface.

You head to your room, to look at the different dresses you had for the reception. Jed and his colleagues have warned you that proper dress is required once there and everyone knows that for the rich, proper dress means for us an outfit bordering on the overpriced.

“well then, what do I have in there that could do the trick? This one? No, too eccentric. Maybe this one? Hm... No, too flash, if I want to look like a traffic light this dress is perfect. Oh, maybe this one! No no no, too English schoolgirl...”

You looking during 30 minutes before giving up. None of these dresses will fit darling, you'll have to buy one... luckily you were saving for this kind of situation. A clothing emergency doesn't prevent!

You take your bag before leaving the apartment, determined to find this dress. The one that not only will allow you not to get thrown out, but that may impress Jed. Hold on... What?

“But what am I thinking... Remains serious mollusc brain! Jed is your neighbour, nothing more! Even if he has a rather pleasant physique to look at, an angel face and eyes... Ahhhh his eyes... but what's wrong with me???”

“huh...You’re okay?”

Note to yourself: never talk alone or we'll think you're crazy. You turn to face Jed, looking at you a little worried but also surprised. You laugh slightly embarrassed when trying to find your words. Good luck.

“Oh Jed! Hum yes, I'm fine! I was just...going outside...” you start before sighing “sorry... I'm going out for an emergency dress. For the reception. Unfortunately, I have none that will allow me not to find myself outside at the entrance...”

“I suspected it a little ... Then... I thought you'd like it.” He said holding a packet to you.

“oh Jed...You shouldn’t...I can’t, really...” you replied before open the package pulling out a beautiful purple dress. “She’s beautiful. How do you know that was my favourite color?”

“I didn’t know. But... I thought you'd be the only person worthy of wearing her in this town.”

“Thanks...You know what? Tonight, I'll pay you for the restaurant! And I insist! If you refuse, no more cakes.” you laugh.

“Yes, ma'am. I give in to such a threat, I care too much about your cakes for that.” he said raising his hands in the air, laughing too. “See you tonight then”. He replied before leaving. You look at the dress while going home.

That won't stop you from buying one for tonight. Well, it will not be a luxury dress either, but at least enough to be presentable. Brushing your hair a little won't be too much either. Because I doubt that, being dressed in sweatshirts and jeans is the best idea of the century. And above all... be careful. No inappropriate topics and no questions too personal.

You fold and store the purple dress in an empty locker in your wardrobe before you go out to buy tonight's dress. you take the opportunity to go to the café to check that nothing has been stolen or vandalized. You make at least three clothing stores before you find your dress: black with white and red floral pattern with very short sleeves. Simple, soft but effective. On the way you met Lindsey, the florist who, thanks to you, saw her clientele increase.

In the evening, dressed and coiffed, you and Jed left the building to go to dinner. From a distance, we might think you're a young couple dating. You both agreed to a Chinese restaurant, one of the best in Roseville. While eating you were discussing about everything and nothing... let's say you ask more questions about him than he does about you.

“I never thought you'd have had so many adventures... But... I want to know more. I want to know about little Jed Olsen, the pure boy from Florida.” you said eating a spring roll.

“Well, I don't see what more I could tell you about me... When I was little, the other kids thought I was...weird. And they made fun of me because I was the "chouchou" of the school, the poor and weak Jed Olsen. As I told you before, my parents considered me as a mistake. You suspect that they were not going to defend me... they were acting in front of everyone but then...” he responds taking a sip of wine.

“I’m sorry... I don't understand how they can be so horrible with a child...Look at you today! You have a job, a fairly stable situation, you are a beautiful young man... and they miss all that. Just because you're a mistake to them.”

“I managed on my own as soon as I could. I had to have... 15/16 when I emancipated myself. it wasn't easy, but it taught me two or three things. But let's talk about you. Miss Rainbow.”

“hey I had the prettiest rainbow dress! my mother and I had spent a whole day doing it. And it paid off. Otherwise, I don't have much to say either. A normal life... a teenager... almost normal. A mundane life in short. And then I wanted to fly on my own. To create something personal. That's why I moved here.”

“And how did your parents react? I guess they must have cried when they saw you leave the family nest.”

“It’s...complicated. I don’t wanna talk about that. For now.”

He simply nods before eating again. After paying the bill for both meals, you leave the restaurant with Jed, laughing at one of his work anecdotes. Although he remains shy about some things, Jed seems more comfortable with you. As you were about to return to the car, several men stood in front of you, armed with iron bars. Instinctively you take Jed's hand and squeeze it tightly.

“What do you want?” Ask Jed calmly.

“Nothing to do with you, redhead. The boss has a message for her. So, get out of there, or you're going to taste my bar.” respond one of them.

“Ready to run?” Jed replied looking at you holding tightly your hand. When you nod, he hits hard enough in a trash can to send it over your aggressors before pulling you by the hand to escape. “Come on! This way!”

“GET THEM BOYS !!!” Scream one of them.

You follow Jed blindly, while memorizing the path taken in case you manage to sow them to return to the car. After a while you find yourself in a dead end, your pursuers getting closer little by little.

“What do we do now???” you ask panicked and breathless.

“... Give me a hand." He responds pushing a big trash can.

Placing it so that you could pass on the other side of the wall, you were about to go up when Jed took your hand shaking his head. He hit the lid of the trash can loud enough with his hand to make your assailants, who were getting closer and closer, believe that you were actually climbing the wall. Then taking your hand, he walked down a narrow and closed alley, hiding you both deep so that no one would see you.

Jed beckoned you to remain silent, before taking a light look, hearing the assailants stop in front of the wall. By pure reflex, you tighten against him, your arms tightening around his waist, your face buried in his torso.

“Shit! They managed to escape! Goddamnit, the boss is going to be mad.” said the one of the assailants.

The band leaves after a few minutes. Jed looked at you surprised before smiling slightly and patting your shoulder.

“They’re gone...We can go now. Are you alright?” He asks with a smile.

“Y-yeah... I'm sure it's that guy... McKellan who hired these guys. it seems that he wants more than to send me a message...” you start to say before blushing and releasing Jed. “Sorry...W-we should go home now.”

You go back to your car, re-borrowing the road and finally go home. What a night! The fear of being attacked at your home wins over you and, while Jed is about to return to his apartment wishing you good night, you stop him by taking his arm.

“Wait! I... I don’t feel safe to sleep alone at home tonight. Can you...can you just stay with me? Promise it will be the first and the last time.”

“Well... if it makes you feel better... Why not.” responds Jed with a smile while Danny smiles devilishly. You let the wolf enter in the sheepfold? Poor you, you don’t know what you do. Even if he sleeps on the sofa, he can now explore better your home.

You both enter your apartment and prepare something to sleep on the couch for Jed. He didn't mind, he used to do it with work. You take the opportunity to show him where the coffee is and what to eat if he ever gets up before you tomorrow morning.

“Are you sure you don't mind?” you ask.

“Don’t worry. I'll try not to make too much noise. Rest well and relax. I’m here. Good night...and thanks for the restaurant.” he responds with his angelic smile.

“...Good night Jed.” you replied, kissing him on the cheek unwittingly.

You blush when you see him put his hand on his cheek, surprised, and quickly go to your room by closing the door. Your gesture will not remain inconsequential... Maybe it's going to affect your fate. In a way you'll never dare think about it.

***

(Done! I’ll wish you a Merry Christmas to all of you! In these difficult times, nothing beats the Christmas holidays to find some joy and not think about what is happening now! fingers crossed that the year a month is better than this one! If you have questions for me or if you just want to talk, just do! See ya! )

#dbd fanfic #dbd #dead by daylight #ghostface #danny johnson #jed olsen

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