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bitchimasnake-sss · 7 months

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the monster trio (but make it highschool!au);

basically, what if these mf weren't illiterate?? highschool!au headcanons for the monster trio!!

luffy:

- the class comedian (and doesn't know it) - like this man is out here just going about his day, doing stupid shit. he doesn't know why the class is laughing when the teacher asks him what he's doing and he says "eating. want some?" through a mouthful of doritos and a shit-eating grin - everyday, atleast once, he gets sent to the principle (the principle is garp lmao) and garp sends luffy back to the teacher because even he doesn't wanna deal with this precious himbo

- he runs track (and he is actually so good at it) - he's that one kid that has adhd and the whole school knows but he doesnt "adhd? what's that?" "you, luffy, that's you" - his homework? never complete; his handwriting? so shit it feels like ants crawling on paper; his uniform? something has to be missing always whether it's a button on his shirt, tie, belt, something. - one time he pulled up with one sock missing and when asked, he shrugged and said "sometimes things happen" - why did he say it like that??? - somehow, despite it all, he manages to pass (nami tutored him forcefully and made him pay her later) - best friends with the martial artist!zoro and cooking prodigy!sanji - nobody knows how these three are friends??? but they are ig - also, i headcannon him as the guy who is like 4 feet and after one summer comes back stretched out (hehe, pun intended) - always so kind to others even if he doesn't know them, always willing to help freshmen out and run errands for you if you need help - nobody knew he is related to his older brothers (ace, sabo) "how are you their brother??" "idk? how am i??" - just the bestest boy ever, golden retriever energy all day every day no matter what universe it is

zoro:

- you take one look at this mf and you think, ah here is the classic delinquent, stick-up-his-ass martial artist and you couldnt be more wrong - he is never dressed right but that's cause he doesn't know how to tie a tie and listen if he had the willpower to find the right socks at 7 in the morning, he will - he is just an incompetent fool, trust me 😭😭 - gets late on the regular cause he always takes the wrong turn - the one "jock" who isn't anything like a stereotypical jock? like he hangs out with soon-to-be valedictorian nami, idiot luffy, theatre kid!ussop and cook!sanji - nobody can understand how this friend group was formed??? - actually gets asked out a decent amount of times and always says "nah, im good" and walks away to his friends - people are starting to suspect if he's dating luffy from how hard their bromance is going "zolo!!! gooDMORNING!!" luffy yells as he launches onto zoro in the middle of the hallway at 8:03 am on a random tuesday zoro casually drops his backpack to catch luffy "morning" zoro replies as if it's casual behaviour - the amount of trophies the school has in his name is insane (nation level martial artist, roronoa zoro) - he is actually decent at school, he is just average and he's fine by it he doesn't give all that much of a shit in the academic sphere - casually pulls up to the parents-teacher meet with thE FUCKING WORLD REKNOWNED MARTIAL ARTIST, DRACULE MIHAWK??? "i see he passed in all his exams. how wonderful, zoro. let's leave now." "aight" - he doesn't even think twice when asked if he knows mihawk, he's just like "yeah that's my dad what about him?" - a certified dumbass in every universe

sanji:

- listen to me this mf went to masterchef junior and fucking won and people only know this cause the school hyped him up and not because he wanted people to know "omg sanji did you actually win-" "no that was my twin brother sanjo, please leave me alone" - actually prim and properly dressed, shows up at time everyday and gives in all of his assignments and submissions well before the due date (he is partially responsible for keeping zoro and luffy on track) - he was the one making cupcakes when nami was organizing a fundraiser for a nearby orphanage, he was the one who baked cookies cause sabo wanted to hand them out on his last day of school, he was the one who baked cakes for his classmate's surprise birthday party - rumor has it if you get on good terms with sanji, a mysterious box of homemade chocolate will be there in your locker the next day - despite all the hype he has, mf still gets no girls - like luffy, he is insanely kind to those who need help - has gotten almost suspended once for beating up a senior year kid for bullying a freshmen (luffy and zoro just stood by and laughed as that kid got his ass handed to him) - he is the son of THE FUCKING OWNER OF BARATIE, A FIVE STAR MICHELLIN RESTAURANT THAT IS FREQUENTED BY CELEBRITIES ALL THE TIME "omg omg sanji is it true that the rock visited your restaurant last night?!" "yeah, his daughter wanted to eat my tiramisu, she's really sweet" - so chill always (but simultaneously losing his shit) - the kinda person you'd love hanging out with - as i said, in any universe, he is still single (feed him the rizz rizz fruit pls)

a/n: tried something new tell me do you like it or love it?

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bunnypeew · 21 days

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Venom - Alastor x gn!reader

WARNINGS: Angst, Fluff, self harm mentioned slightly

oke so again i’m very sad recently,, for reasons,,, so i wanted to write a angst that ends in fluff so you’ve been warned, may be ooc for Alastor!

they never had such a fight to the point where Y/n cried, sniffling and hiccuping all the the way into the argument, and Alastor didn’t know how to handle this since he was mad, he was also in and out of his demon form but he was keeping it at bay as not to hurt them.

“Al you are not listening to me,,

they say with a sigh, then dry away their tears and straights themself up, now with a determined look on their face, they then turned around to leave.

Alastor was taken aback by this move and sent a tentacle to their wrist to stop them from opening the door.

“where do you think you’re going, mon cher?,,

he says in an assertive tone, but still soft at the end of the phrase. He was scared, he was getting scared they were gonna leave and never comeback, he hated that they made him weak, soft.

“i’m going out, I-I just need a moment Al sorry,,

they took off the tentacle gently, he didn’t use force he went limp and looked at them leaving his radio tower, leaving him to himself.

a few hours had gone by and all Alastor did was bounce his foot on the floor and tap his staff with his long claws, he was waiting, surely they’d comeback to him like they always did right? it wasn’t that bad of a fight to him, it was one like the other.

to them tho it was a disappointment, more proof he didn’t listen when they spoke

they went to their hotel room and hid under the blankets of their bed, still crying and sniffling away their pain. Words were stuck in their throat, they felt like venom that was about to kill them, they didn’t like to think bad about Alastor, they loved him a lot so these thoughts were intruding their brain without permission, they started hitting their head slightly, they tended to do that when they were really upset or having a panic attack, they were having also problems breathing so they got up to go to the bathroom to free their nose, that was until they heard a soft knock on the door, it was his classical knock, they flopped their arms down from their nose and sighed, now walking towards the door, cracking it a little bit to see Al staring outside, smile strained as to show he was also very upset, he never did stop smiling but they noticed whenever his emotions shifted.

“mon cher, may i come in please,,

they started considering, looking at the floor then looking back at Alastor then sighing again, they then opened the door for him letting him in the walked and buried themself in th blankets once again.

Alastor had noticed how puffy their eyes were as soon as they opened the door, making him understand that they had been crying for a while now, since they left anyways.

He sits softly down in the bed near them, placing his cane down next to him, he softly sighed looking at the bundle of blankets, still hearing sniffles and cries, his hand reaching out to stroke them but stopped mid air, then flopping back into place next to his body.

“Tu sais, je n'aurais jamais pensé que tu me quitterais comme ça, tu m'as fait peur,,

“You know, i never thought you'd walk out on me like that, you scared me,,

he was speaking french, which meant he was really stressed and truthful, being genuine at the very least, they put their hands in their hair and started pulling slightly Alastor could feel something was wrong so he took the blanket off from their head, seeing what they were doing his heart sunk, he soflty took their hands and pulled them towards his face, they were whining a little bit at the contact and cried even more.

Alastor started kissing at their knuckles, stroking softly with his clawed hands then looked them in the eyes

“I don’t want you hurting yourself because of me, understood?,,

he breathes on their hands kissing again and waiting for some sort of reply from them, they struggled but murmured a little sorry before hiccuping

“oh mon cœur, you don’t have to say sorry, come here,,

he opened his arms for them to crawl on his chest and get comfortable, he started stroking their hair, kissing on it then they sit there in silence for a little while so they could come down

“I adore you, you know that right?,,

he says softly, they nod slightly

everything was peachy again, good.

AAAH I LOVED WRITING THIS!! again it’s a little ooc but i needed it,, i’m a sucker for soft Alastor hope you enjoyed!!

#hazbin hotel #hazbinhotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #reader x alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fluff #angst

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sethsclearwater · 9 months

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so i read your ‘gentle touches’ imagine and just thought about paul’s imprint sitting down with him pretty early on in the relationship and being like “i feel like you only want sex” and he’s like “i just don’t know how to express how much i love you” bc the poor baby has very little experience with soft sweet love :((

soft paul🥺🥺

...

you had sent paul a (much gentler) variation of the classic 'we need to talk' text not even 10 minutes prior when you heard a frantic knocking at your apartment door. you hadn't expected him to get so worked up about it but as soon as you opened your door you saw a very disheveled looking paul at your doorstep.

"paul-" you started, letting out a breathy laugh, "i didn't mean it like that," you added quickly, letting out an exhale when his features immediately softened and his shoulders noticabely dropped.

"what's wrong?" he asked nervously, peeking over you to scan your apartment in what you assumed to be an attempt to see if you had anyone else over.

you sighed softly, "come in, yea? it's not that serious," you explained, stepping back so he could step inside your apartment. when he didn't step any further than your doorstep as you closed the door, you quickly took his hand in yours and guided him over to your living room so the two of you could take a seat on your couch.

he was watching you anxiously, still clearly not understanding what was going on as he tried to figure out what prompted you to send that text in the first place, "i swear i'm not breaking up with you or anything," you started, turning your body so you could face him, your legs brushing against his as you pulled his hands into your lap so you could give them a gentle squeeze.

he didn't say anything so you took that as your sign to continue, "i just wanted to talk about our sex life," you murmured, a pink blush coating your features as you figured out what to say next. paul's brows furrowed as you thought through your next words, "i just sometimes feel like you only like me for sex and wanted to talk to you about it before it became a problem or something," you added, looking up at him as you tried to gauge his reaction to your confession.

paul's features noticeably softened as he relaxed, "you think i only like you for sex?" he asked, frowning as he slid one of his hands up to gently cup your jaw, rubbing soft circles against your cheek as he waited for you to respond.

despite his touch exterior he put on when he faced the rest of the world, he was always incredibly soft with you in his attempts not to fuck up your relationship.

you slowly nodded, "and i know that's not true but it just sometimes feels like that," you quickly explained, not wanting him to think he was really doing anything wrong because he wasn't.

he took in your words for a moment, seeming to think about his response before he replied, "i'm sorry i made you feel like that," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he apologized to you. you frowned, suddenly feeling a bit bad that you made him feel like he even needed to apologize to you in the first place. ubt before you could go to argue with him, he continued, "i just don't know how else to show you how much i love you," he added, letting out a soft sigh of relief when you crawled into his lap, quickly wrapping yourself around him so you could hug him close to you.

"i love you," you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone, "and i know you love me too," you added with a soft giggle, eliciting a breathy laugh from paul as the tension in the room eased up a bit, "and i want to show you how else you can love me because there's so many other ways we can do that without just having sex," you explained, lifting your head to peek up at him.

he nodded slowly, both of you taking a moment before you continued, "not that i don't love having sex with you or anything," you added with another giggle, "i just want to show you that there's so many other ways we can love each other, you know?" you asked softly, smiling when he nodded, "so why don't we start with a movie night or something? i miss you," you offered and paul was quick to agree, nodding before he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

#paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote blurb #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote angst #paul lahote fluff #twilight #twilight wolves #twilight imagine #blurb #imagine #fluff #angst

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machiavellli · 2 months

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In the HEAT of the moment

Pairing: Cal Kestis x chiss!jedi!reader

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: reader is in heat, unholy use of the force, slightly angst dynamic (we are a bit bratty), 0ral f&m receiving, p in v, dom!cal(?)/switch (accusingly), p0rn w/o plot (not really?), no use of y/n

Summary: Terribly h0rny on a ship with an attractive redhead, what could possibly happen?

MDNI!

Author’s note: it all started that I wanted to write an old classical sex pollen! fic, but then I remembered how a lot of people (myself included) headcanon chiss people to have a mating cycle and I thought it could be an interesting alternative. Also the only thing you really have to know about chiss people is that they are generally speaking slightly cold people, they have blue skin (NOT MENTIONED) and red eyes (which glows when they feel strong emotions). Reader is depicted as a force user, but this honestly only serves the purpose to make it even more filthy.

Sorry for the BAD DESCRIPTION of the Mantis, do you really care though? Also BD is safe and sound from any inappropriate view🤌

English isn’t my first language

I watched the red-haired figure beside me trying to land the ship as fast as he could, fear painted all over his face, anxiousness filling his chest. If only he could know what was actually wrong with me.

I was spread out on the co-pilot seat, breathing heavily, clothes increasingly damp from the sweat that was now clearly crowning my face. I was trying to concentrate exclusively on my force signature, or rather I was desperately trying to keep it closed. I just had to wait for the wave to pass, for this embarrassment to end.

I hated the fact that it happened in front of him, I usually was able to handle it myself. I wanted to shout at him to leave, I wanted to maintain my usual cold character, he had never seen this vulnerability in me before and he was scared.

He was probably thinking a fever had come over me, he couldn't possibly know how my biology worked and he couldn't, shouldn't know, that I was developing a soft spot for him.

It was so hard to be this close yet so far from his touch. If I had spoken I would have lost all control over my signature and he would have been able to sense my heat expanding. How the heat ran more and more in my blood until I felt my eyes burning. If only he could know.

I remained contorted in the chair, trying to tighten all my limbs, trying to make myself smaller and smaller, to repress this uncontrollable situation. My head was back, eyes half closed, I couldn't look at him, even though the image of him, those damn red hair, was now imprinted on my retina. Every time I tried to open my eyes even slightly, he would turn his worried gaze in my direction. My glowing red eyes left me no opportunity to escape his peripheral vision.

I closed my eyes definitively, trying to cling to the little concentration I had left. I could feel Cal landing the ship, this is absolutely useless, I kept thinking. BD scanned me, «I know her temperature and pulse are high, I can see it» he replied with a frustrated tone to the droid, he didn’t like at all this unusual situation.

My eyes were still completely shut, not even for the love of the Maker I was going to open them, especially now that I could hear him rising from his piloting seat.

«You have to tell me something though, what the hell is happening to you, you were fine thirty minutes ago» he was now hovering over my face, and I could feel his warm breath as he spoke.

His hand reached out for my face, but I quickly sent him away, dismissing it with my arm, still, the brief touch made me tremble from the inside. And he noticed it.

You aren’t getting any information out of me, I would explode before letting you know anything, I thought.

He loudly snorted, starting to grow frustrated by his anxious state and my attitude.

«Listen, you got to tell me something. Why can’t I access your signature? You never blocked it. Let me read you» he then gripped with decision at both of the sides of my now completely sweaty head and made me face him.

I had to bite so hard my lips to hide the moan that almost made it out, to the point where I tasted my own boiling blood.

Focus, focus, focus. For the love of the Maker and for my dignity.

I tried to remove myself from his cautious touch, but his callous hands gripped harder, keeping me firm in my place. I then opened my eyes, the light of the cockpit invading my sight, making my eyes water from the discomfort, but I kept my burning gaze on him. Hopefully, even if a tear started to descend, he would recognise my furious gaze, which I had unfairly dedicated him numerous times, on missions, but also in everyday activities. I was just trying to keep my distance for all of those months, but all the crafting I did on my persona was breaking just in front of his eyes. If only he knew.

«I just want to help you. Let me help you. I know that you hate being helped, especially by me, but I need you alive and healthy kriff» he sighed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment, but I kept my gaze fixed on him, breathing even more heavily. It felt like oxygen wasn’t enough. Because it wasn't, as I resignedly knew; and I knew I was going to need his help if he didn't get out of here in mere seconds.

«Since I don’t know what’s the matter with you, I’m sorry, but I have to try to access your mind. You look like something is giving you a panic attack» how ironic.

If only he knew.

After that sentence, I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold the game, the control I had over my force signature was feeble, so it took me all my strength to do it, but I kicked him as hard as I could in the stomach, desperately trying to send him away. The kick ended up being much more delicate than I had in mind, it didn’t even hurt him, but it still made him step back a little and remove his delicious hands from my skull. I tried to catch the opportunity to leave the cockpit, but as I tried to stand up, my bloody wobbly limbs made me crash on the floor, my head hitting the seat just above and failing forward.

I hissed in pain, desperate, needy and desolate for the scene that Cal had to endure. I was barely lifted from the floor with my elbows, I lifted up my gaze towards his direction. Hairs sticking to my forehead and breath still as heavy as an imperial cruiser.

«Let me help you. You are a mess» he slowly walked next to me, lowering his broad figure to my level. Flashes came back in mind from all the times I had the upper hand over him, in our training sessions or missions. I was so good at hiding everything, until I wasn't.

«Y-you need…t-to stay away from me» I whispered and it made him widen his eyes from the surprise that I could speak. Words as light as air destined to fall into the sea of uselessness as quickly as lead. And with that, the unstable hold I had on my signature fell.

«I can’t leave you here, don’t be rid-» he started saying by lifting me from my arms. And with that, he knew. Now he knew.

Moments that felt eternal passed as I held again my gaze, now completely stripped of any decency. Kriff, if he knew.

I couldn’t reach for his signature, I simply lacked the strength to do so, but I was sure that he was scanning my interior from top to bottom, I could sense him everywhere in me. It was so good, I imagine the real touch, how good that must feel.

«Go away.» I replied, closing my tired eyes once more, letting my head fall forward, hiding hopelessly my bare mind.

«But I thought that I felt so good…» he said meanwhile rising my head once more, lifting my chin with one of his damn hands. And a light moan escaped my lips.

My mind went blank there, eyes fixed on him as I would be staring into the void itself and my mouth opened from the shock, revealing the now dried blood painted on my lips. I felt the agonising tears and the sweat mixing over my face, this was purely mortifying.

One thing was being shamed without addressing it and one thing was whatever was going on here. But as much as I felt shamed, I felt this growing heat rising once again in me: it felt good.

And it certainly didn’t help when he started to gently brush away the dried blood from my lips with his thumb. I was just glad his eyes were fixed on them and not my eyes, you know, for the sake of my decency.

«All of this…all of this for what?» He chuckled lightly, readjusting his gaze on me, making our eyes entangled again «For hiding from me? The only one ashamed is you, wilful as always».

«Leave the matter to me, I-I will handle-»

«You don’t get to handle a thing. Be a good girl and let me help you or your rut won’t pass» he voiced firmly.

This time, my eyes widened in surprise and the little nickname made my body flinch.

«Tell me you want my help and you will be served.»

For a moment, I breathed heavily again, focusing entirely on reaching for his signature: he was being honest. That’s all I needed. I needed him and he knew. He knew it all.

«Help me, n-need you»

Without any other dancing around, he lifted me easily, closing the cockpit door of the Mantis behind him, and locking up BD. My head instinctively went back, just for him to catch it with his large hand. I wanted any clothes off.

Once we reached for the table, he delicately leaned me against its surface, ice against my warm skin. He climbed over me with his broad figure, feeling his own arousal growing. He waited for this for so long. And I did not know.

Our lips, now, mere inches away. I was hot, but kriff, I could feel his heartbeat also running. Our breaths mixed over our faces and for cutting short all the theatrical tragedy, I simply lifted one of my hands to cup his face, making him come instinctively closer. Now as my lips danced on his, I knew it was over.

I was burning, to the point where the heat gave me back my strength and I started holding onto his hair with both of my sweaty desperate hands, making a moan escape from him. He felt like a sweet fresh relief from my pain, but Force, if I need more than that. Our hips then started to stroke against each other, searching for the real relief.

It felt like we were eating off each other’s faces, sloppy kisses filled with burning passion, mixing with the sweat and blood, nothing too different from our condition on a battlefield wryly.

Then, he started travelling down to my neck and moans finally freely left my mouth, as I felt the ginger growing harder on my thighs.

«You are so warm, so good» he muttered half moaning into my neck as his hands started working on my tunic, but he stopped for a moment and looked at me with those pretty green eyes: «Can I?».

«Hurry.» was my response.

And he hurried. Basically ripping my damp tunic away, and without losing a second he was on my breast, skilfully sucking one as he played the nipple of the other with his callous hand.

«So soft, can’t believe I had to wait this long» he whispered as his voice grew hoarse with desire.

«More Cal» I whined softly, now completely blinded by lust.

And my wish was his command.

He navigated down, in the direction of my wetness, leaving a trail of careless kisses behind. His hands, which felt frigid, given my temperature, followed him as he went down, gripping firmly my waist, and making my eyes roll. Hence, he held me still with one large hand flat over my lower stomach, pressing lightly, as the other worked to remove my trousers. At last, I was bare before him, a desire I hid for long.

«It took you a heat wave, almost a heart attack, for letting me touch you. So obstinate to prove yourself, when you were already perfect in front of me» he breathed while he lowered himself, as my thighs were being spread upon his face.

As my legs parted, I felt my indecent drench slide down, feeling exposed and turned on like never before.

«You are going to be my four-course meal» he mumble, taking a look at my condition and smirking, before starting to rub over my sensitive clit, as his breath kept teasing me.

I was in no condition to speak, my mind was already far too gone, and filthy sounds were the only thing coming out of me. And Force, the sight would have killed any Jedi master back at the temple. Too bad.

Once he considered it enough, he closed the gap between my heat and his lips, starting to suckle intensely, holding me open for him, feeling every one of his digits pressing into my flesh. The touch felt electric, combined with his force signature overwhelming me inside. I wanted him, may this be the last thing I ever do.

And he damn knew.

«For someone so bitter, you taste so sweet» A low groan escaped from him as he gripped greatly at my inner thighs, parting my lips even more, whilst I held on the table for my damn life, trying to steady myself as my body trembled beneath him.

His lips, the swirling of his tongue over my swollen bud, the slightly cool sensation from his lower temperature and the air around us, were driving me wild. I was getting close and instinctively I tried to force my legs closed, but I was immediately shut by his powerful hands, keeping me more open and vulnerable than ever.

«Don’t try. Let me have what is mine» he hissed while flipping me over to my stomach.

My face and chest made contact with the cold surface, as I felt my hips being lifted and dragged at the edge of the table. His cool grip, air, surface and exposure made my walls clench. The sight of my bare ass made his cock, still hidden beneath all his clothes, twitch in anticipation. He nudged over my warm soft flesh, admiring my curves, gripping it with force and giving it a loud slap.

«Don’t you think you were bratty enough? It feels so good to have the upper hand, no wonder you like it some much»

He was enjoying this almost as much as me, the only difference being that I was utterly submitted to my own desire, my rut, desperately trying to get me filled with his seed.

He lowered once more his gaze to my warm, opening my lips with his rough thumbs, as my wetness fell on the table’s surface. His mouth captured my clit once more, making me tremble from the newly acquired angle, but his hands were quickly on my sides, supporting my weight.

We kept filling the room with my indecent moans and his low groans as he ate me out like a starved man, till the point where I reached my peak, surrendering to the overwhelming sensation coursing through my body. Oh Force, oh stars. Why did I wait so long for him?

Instinctively, I let my hips fall on the table and Cal followed me, resting his head on my lower back, giving it a soft kiss. We were both breathless, but we were both far from being over with this.

We both knew.

My heat returned after mere seconds, making me whine. I flipped myself over as Cal lifted himself from me, gripping one of my ankles to drag me closer to him.

«Undress. Come over to the table. Quick.» I commanded and so he did as I said.

Rapidly he removed his own clothes and I got to stare at his toned pale body, covered in delicious freckles and reddish hairs travelling all the way down to his throbbing member. What a show.

He climbed for the second time that day over my figure and when he got to the level of my face, I decided that before anything else, I would have to taste him, my thoughts driven by my burning lust. I took him from his shoulders, switching our positions, causing his head to collide with the table and blocking him with my thighs, my wetness now pooling on his lower stomach, just above his crotch.

«My turn, you had your fun Kestis»

Whiteout giving him the time to protest, I descended over his body, leaving a trace of warm bites from his neck till the lowest part of his abandonment, making him squirm at every touch. I felt like my blood was boiling even more, raising my temperature once again.

I softly bit the flushed skin of his cock, before opening my watery mouth and taking as much as I could from his size. My boiling mouth, working in sinuous movements around his member, made him let out a low groan, overwhelmed by the sensation.

«If o-only I could’ve shut you up before like this, mhm. So pretty. So good.» he stated bringing his hands over his face moaning, lifting his hips up a little, causing me to pleasantly choke on him.

Hence, he moved one of his hands on my head, encouraging me to go deep, to move faster, increasing his excitement. From now on, I wouldn’t have ever again protested to remain silent.

Then, he lifted my head from him, a hand taking me from my chin, cleaning once more my lips, but not from blood this time.

«Nobody here wants me to come in your mouth, let’s be honest» he asserted and it was almost as if my rut snapped me out of my state, remembering what I truly want and need.

All I wanted was being filled, till I couldn’t take it anymore, filling me with pleasure and relief from the unbearable heat that has been consuming my body.

«Please» I pleaded softly, biting my lower lip between my teeth, desperation adorning my words.

Cal lifted me from my stance, sitting up and swinging my legs around his lap, my core just in front of his.

«You are beautiful, you have always been amazing, even if I thought you hated me» he spoke softly, caressing with one hand my face, removing some of the hairs sticking over it, whilst, with the other one, he held my waist firmly.

«I am sorry, I was just trying to be professional» I confessed lowering my gaze. The sounds of our heartbeats were the only thing I could hear as our force signatures started to entangle.

«You were more annoying than professional» he chuckled, «And professional for who? Do I look professional? C’mon.»

«Mhm…annoying…just because I kept beating your ass Kestis»

I took his chin with one of my hands, as the other gripped at the nape of his neck, his Adam’s apple rising as I bit again into his neck, making him breathe heavily.

«So annoying…» he moaned, «Tell me what you need to make you feel better, I would do anything for you»

Our signatures overflowing into each other, make me see the stars and the kriffing galaxy, I said in his mind. He thankfully knew.

Without another thought, he laid my back again on the surface, as he towered over me.

Breathe in, breathe out.

His fierce mouth was on mine, filthy kissing me, catching restlessly my swollen lips and whimpering while doing so. His hand adorned my curves, clasping at the softness of my hips, gently moving one leg up, aligning himself at my entrance.

Locking our eyes, sharing one last breath, before his length entered me.

Instinctively, I rolled my eyes back as his thick member filled me completely. He was everywhere inside of me, his pleasure was mine and mine was his. The Force could reserve such unholy uses.

«See? Good girls get stretch real good» he muttered in a groan of pleasure.

The carnal desire was burning more now than ever.

As he moved inside of me, I arched my back and let out soft moans, whilst he was holding me tightly, growling at the nape of my neck. I clenched my walls around him as he hit every sweet spot just right. Every deep trust emanated a lustful indecent sound, skin against skin, clapping together, coiled by sweat and desire.

He was filling me divinely, but I needed it raw. Animalistic. As my rut intended.

But, without words, he knew that.

Cal flipped me over, grabbing onto my waist from behind, as he impaled himself without warning in one trust. His powerful thrusts sent shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through my entire being, and I felt the intensity of his emotions radiating through every cell in my body as he poured into me relentlessly. One of his hands reached for my neck, bringing him even more inside of me.

As our hearts synchronised, the combination of the raw act and our force signature fuelled his movements. the connection deepening with each powerful stroke.

Every noise, every sound of pleasure, filled the room, intoxicating our actions even more, the sound of our skin colliding acted as a frame, in this almost dazzling lust.

We both become lost in the heat of the moment, Cal blinded by my rut that I shared with him in the force.

His cock throbbed with excitement, eager to release its energy deep within my welcoming embrace. The redhead filled me up completely with his solid, pulsating presence. The sensation was invigorating, propelling both of us closer to the brink of euphoria.

«Close» I mumbled with the little strength left in me.

His muscles tensed, as I tightened around him, feeling my pleasure intensify as Cal’s arousal reached its peak.

With his last powerful strokes and the connection we shared in that moment, I saw the stars and the galaxy, feeling our bodies intensely tremble at the reach of our high, whilst gasping loudly.

He painted my inside white with his warm liquid, turning my body temperature back to normal.

Breathless, he fell onto my back, his nose brushed deliberately over my ear, with his member still inside of me.

Restored our normal heartbeats, he lifted the both of us from the table, guiding us to the sofa, where I sat on his lap, brushing some of his hair away as he did the same with me.

«I had no idea chiss had a mating cycle»

«Nobody knows, it’s embarrassing»

«It was fun in my opinion baby» he confessed before giving me a small caste kiss. The action, made me flush and smile unintentionally, which produced a soft laugh from the redhead.

«Fellow associate» I replied, hiding the smile.

«Don’t start again ple-»

«The cycle lasts a week» I said, cutting him off by placing one finger over his own swollen lips.

His eyes widened and a smile formed upon his face as I pressed my forehead on his, smiling, without control this time.

There was nothing he didn’t know now.

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 1 year

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What if Crowley(spn) had a kid and the Winchester’s almost kill them? What would/how Crowley do/react and what would the Winchester’s do?🤔

That’s My Goddamn Daughter!

Team Free Will x cambion!reader

When Castiel locates another cambion, potentially with the power to kill a knight of hell, he and the Winchesters go after her but then Crowley shows up claiming she’s his daughter.

Warnings: MOC Dean, mentions of rape but really just misunderstandings, blood, concussions, I have no medical knowledge, swearing, reader gets knocked out a lot lol

WC: 2.2k

A/N: I kind of want to do a part 2 to this. What do you guys think?

Minors DNI

“I’m sorry what? Can you repeat that?” Castiel sighed, slightly exacerbated. He thought he explained the situation pretty well. Dean’s eyes were wide in both shock and disbelief and Sam just looked exhausted.

“Like I said before, there is another cambion in existence and she could be the answer to the Mark.” Dean swallowed the last of his now warm beer and glowered at the angel.

“And you didn’t think to tell us this before now?”

“Dean.” Sam started but the elder held up his hand to stop him. Cas sighed, mentally preparing himself for a classic Dean tirade that always seemed to come when he presented the brothers with a new lead.

“You’re hiding things from us, lying. How do we even know if this so-called cambion is the real deal? Why didn’t she show up before?” The angel’s eyes rolled, why did they have such trouble understanding?

“There was a spell concealing her from the angels’ view but for some reason, that spell is now gone. I assumed it was tied to someone in her family, possibly the parent that was a demon. But now, that demon is dead so the spell is gone.” Sam seemed to accept that answer but Dean was more skeptical.

“So what do we do if we do find this girl? Just ask her to come back with us for tea and cake? She most likely knows that daddy dearest was a demon and might want revenge and we are probably the ones that did it or we know them. So what then?”

Sam leaned against the war room table beside his brother. “Dean’s right. Remember that kid Jesse, he had a whole town under his thumb without even thinking about it and he was just a kid. What could an adult with an obviously powerful parent do?” Dean nodded along and Cas had the distinct urge to smite them both.

“We need to take that chance. She might be our best shot at killing Cain without the First Blade.” Dean huffed, still clearly miffed at being so blatantly brushed off by the angel.

“Alright fine but you can’t get mad at me when I say I told you so when this inevitably goes wrong.” He shrugged and Cas smirked slightly, happy to get his way.

——————

“Well that was easier than expected.” Dean sulked, sitting on the motel room bed pouting like a child. The woman had been easy to find, in fact it was too easy. She was a goddamn librarian in a small town where everyone knew her face.

No locks on her doors, no weapons in the house. She welcomed them in with open arms after Sam fed her their story of being lost and needing directions. She gave them pie and lemonade, answering every question they asked, including Dean’s flirtatious ask about a boyfriend.

Her head dipped and she avoided eye contact as she shyly replied that no, she didn’t have a boyfriend. Sam smacked Dean upside the head for that when she wasn’t looking. Cas, getting sick of the circling conversation mixed with too much human lust, had stepped forward and knocked her out with his grace.

He caught her soft body as she crumpled, ignoring the pointed looks the brothers sent him. “She would’ve come willingly.” Sam pointed out but Cas replied with a simple, “There isn’t enough time for you two to ‘convince’ her.”

Sam blushed and Dean just smirked, too proud of himself. They quickly smuggled her out to the car and started the long journey home. Now, they were taking a break for the night and Dean watched as the girl slept on, blissfully unaware of everything going on in the world.

“She really doesn’t seem demonic. She’s just-“

“Nice.” Dean finished his brother’s sentence for him, saying the word like it disgusted him. “Are you sure she’s the half-breed we want?” Again, Castiel was questioning why his destiny was intertwined with the Winchesters. Y/N shifted in her sleep, curling up on her side cutely, giving out a large sigh.

Cas stood at the foot of the bed, intensely watching the men who flanked her on both sides, like guards watching over their ward. “I can sense her power, it is far greater than any other cambion. Her blood has old magic in it, she is quite possibly descended from a natural witch.”

Sam froze, his entire body going stiff with surprise. “I’m sorry, so this girl is a product of a natural witch and a demon.” Cas shook his head, arms crossing over his chest.

“No, the magic is too deluded for the witch to be her mother or father, it is more likely that it is her grandparent.” Sam’s eyes flicked down to the girl, somehow already feeling incredibly protective of her. She was by far the kindest person he had met in a very long time, how could she have such evil in her blood? But he was wary, both because of her power and the fear of what could happen should she succumb to that power. He knew that feeling, that rush from demon blood, how addicting it could be.

Dean could feel the heat radiating from her body as she rolled closer to him. The mark was quiet around her, soothed like a feral cat getting love for the first time in its life. But how dark could she get, what was she capable of? And who in the hell was her demonic parent?

“We should keep moving. If we found her so quick, there’s no telling who else would be coming after her.” Cas nodded and fluttered away, presumably to ensure that no demons had followed them.

Dean moved away from her as quickly as he could, a curling in his gut making him feel like he should be repulsed by her but her presence also called to him. He fished a half-drunk bottle of whiskey from his duffle bag and settled himself in the chair in the far corner of the room. “Get some shut eye, I’ll take first watch.”

Sam pulled a ratty blanket over top of her, careful to not wake her and took a seat on the other bed. “Do you think this could work?” Silence settled over the brothers.

“It’s our only shot.” And with that, Sam settled back against the thin pillows, keen to get any rest he could to escape his swirling thoughts.

——————

A rattling woke Dean from his alcohol induced slumber. With a groan, he lifted his head from the back of the chair he had accidentally fallen asleep on. His neck screamed in pain but that was nothing compared to the throbbing in his arm.

The mark burned and the rattling became louder. His green eyes fluttered open, only able to see vague shapes in the dark room. A shadow stood by the door, their hand on the knob, desperately trying to open it. “Please please please.” Her voice was filled with tears and a panic that made his heart lurch in his chest.

“Sweetheart.” The sound of his own voice made her work even faster at trying to open the door, but it was of no use. She screamed and Dean bolted forward. Moving faster than even he could comprehend, he grabbed her, wrapping a large palm over her mouth to keep her from making any more noise.

Her back hit the mattress with an exhale of air through her nose. Her eyes were wide with panic, her breathing quickening becoming erratic as his muscular body settled between her plump thighs, shoving her skirt up her legs. She tried to grab at Dean’s shoulders to shove him off but using his free hand he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head.

Tears rolled down her temples, wetting the sheets below them. “I’m not going to hurt you. You need to trust me.” Her head shook furiously beneath his hold, on the edge of hysterics.

“Dean?” Sam muttered sleepily, sitting up in the bed. “What’s going on?” His hair stuck up in all different directions as he lazily looked around the room. His eyes landed on the situation in front of him and everyone froze.

Suddenly, the room exploded. With no hesitation, Sam launched himself at his older brother and tackled him to the floor. “What the hell were you doing!” Dean thrashed violently.

“She was trying to run! I had to stop her.”

Sam snarled. “Not by doing that.” Dean landed a good punch to his jaw, knocking Sam for a loop but his grip remained strong even as his head spun.

Seeing her chance, Y/N slipped from the bed as quietly as she could but her legs gave out as soon as she rocked forward onto her feet. She yelped, catching the boys’ attention and they watched her fall, almost in slow motion.

Her head slammed against the corner of the bed before slamming into the floor. Blood pooled under her forehead, her eyes went hazy before they shut. “Shit!” Sam scrambled off of his brother, fear coursing through his veins like a fire. He slid a hand under her head, cupping her face gently. “C’mon open those eyes for me.”

But she didn’t respond. Thick fingers fit against the dip of her throat, and he struggled to find her pulse. When he finally did, it was thready and weak but it was there. He breathed a sigh of relief. “She’s alive, probably a bad concussion though.”

“Son of a bitch!” Dean growled, sitting up against the bed frame. “Why does this shit always happen to us?” As gently as he could manage with shaking hands, Sam lifted Y/N into his arms, resting her face against his strong chest. He could now feel the way her own chest rose and fell with shallow breaths.

Sam laid her on his unmade bed, keeping her on her side in case she got sick. The wound, a small gash on her right temple, had slowed its bleeding. It wouldn’t require stitches, just a couple butterfly bandages. “I don’t know, Dean.” He sighed and got to work fixing her up.

Meanwhile, Dean was stewing, thinking. She could have used her powers to save him off, to escape but she didn’t. She was just a normal girl getting involved in something that she didn’t want to do. “What are we doing Sammy? That girl doesn’t have any powers, she’s just a kid.”

“Without the blade, we have no chance at getting rid of the Mark. She’s our best shot.” But there was no conviction in his tone. Sam was also doubting the integrity of this plan but he was desperate. Dean with the blade was far more dangerous than this girl could ever be, they needed her.

“How dare you touch my daughter!” The door burst violently, shattering under the force at which it was hit. Crowley stood, absolutely fuming in the entryway, eyes red with pure rage. Sam and Dean sprung into action, their guns drawn.

“What are you talking about Crowley?” Dean shifted so his body blocked the demon’s view of the girl on the bed. His shoulders were tense, the Mark telling him to protect her with everything he had. But apparently, Crowley wasn’t having any of it today.

With a wave of his hand, the boys went flying into the wall, their guns tossed away and ropes appearing from nothing to pin them down. “I told you I would find the blade and this is how you repay me! You kidnapped my daughter! Lust after her! And then you harm her!” His voice thundered through the room, shaking the foundations of the building with his fury. “You sniveling weasels! I kept her out of this life for a reason!”

The Winchesters struggled against his hold. Crowley loomed over the double bed, intensely staring at the woman. “She was never meant to know. I just wanted her to have a normal life.”

Dean’s nostrils flared with anger as the demon leaned forward and cupped her round cheek with one hand while the other brushed against the bandage on her forehead. “Don’t touch her.” The hunter snarled. His arm burned as the mark screamed at him to rip apart anyone that even so much as looked in her direction.

A vein in Sam’s neck ticked in time with his pulse while he pulled at his bonds. He could feel the loosening of the ropes around his wrist. An angel blade rested on the chair Dean had been occupying, if he could get even one arm free, he could grab it. “You are the ones that hurt her! Not me!” Crowley snapped but didn’t take his eyes off of her.

“Last warning.” But he disregarded the Winchesters and instead lifted Y/N from the bed, taking extra care not to hit her any more than she already was.

Her face easily tucked into the dark material of his suit shirt as he held her close. “Stay away from my daughter.” And with that, both him and the ropes disappeared, leaving only her sweater and the bitter smell of sulphur.

The boys collapsed to the ground. Dean wasted no time as he scrambled forward in a desperate attempt to reach the now gone pair.

“Son of a bitch!”

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queenshelby · 9 months

Text

Yes! Mr Murphy (Rewritten)

PART 29: THE PERFORMANCE

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Lots of Angst, Age Gap, Teacher x Student, Pregnancy Loss, Infertility

Chapter Note:

This chapter explores the next six weeks from Cillian’s Point of View.

Cillian’s POV

A few days following your latest encounter at Cillian’s apartment, Dermont and Cillian sat at the pub, drinking pints of Guinness. The dimly lit room echoed with the sound of lively conversation and clinking glasses. Outside, rain drizzled down on the streets of Dublin, adding to the gloomy atmosphere that matched the melancholic state of their minds.

Cillian took a long sip from his pint, contemplating the weight of recent events, including the break up with you and the fact that, again, Nina was struggling with his separation from Danielle.

While Nina’s mental health was something Cillian and Danielle had addressed in recent days, following her having run off from his apartment, the breakup with you still had left him shattered. It was something he could not come to terms with and struggled to accept.

"You know, Dermont," Cillian began, his voice tinged with melancholy. "I can't stop thinking about her. It's driving me mad."

Dermont took a swig of his Guinness, his eyes narrowing as he studied his troubled friend. "You are still caught up on her? Jesus, man," he spoke.

"I can't help it," Cillian confessed. "She's all I think about,” he admitted in the midst of being somewhat tipsy and Dermont leaned back and crossed his arms.

"I have to admit, Cillian, I never understood why you let her go in the first place,” his friend pointed out, causing Cillian to sigh.

"It's the age difference, Dermont," Cillian lamented. "She is half my age, for God's sake. It felt wrong,” he explained and Dermont tilted his head, a sceptical expression on his face. "Age is just a number, my friend. If there's love, it transcends all that rubbish.”

Cillian snorted and took a sip of his Guinness. "You make it sound so simple, man."

"Because it is," Dermont affirmed. "Besides, you're not getting any younger either, mate."

Cillian glared at his friend playfully. "Thanks for the reminder, Dermont,” he said before asking his friend what to do.

“You should try and resolve this. If you want her back, then tell her,” Dermont pointed out and Cillian's face contorted with uncertainty. "I don't know, Dermont. I don't even know if she'd want me back after the way I ended things."

Dermont scoffed, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, the classic self-deprecating Cillian Murphy. Trust me, mate, shoot your shot. You never know until you try."

Cillian chuckled, his eyes lighting up with a newfound determination before remembering something else that, just days ago, you had told him about when you were made to resign.

Cillian, of course, then told Dermont all about it, including the fact that there had been an email that was sent to the dance academy, signed off by a “concerned parent”.

“I thought me and Connie were the only ones who knew at the time?” Dermont acknowledged, resulting in Cillian to nod.

“From the parents, yes…” he determined as the discovery of someone sabotaging your career had ignited a fiery determination within him. He couldn't let this stand and wanted to know who did this to you.

Dermont, ever the curious friend, frowned as he listened to Cillian tell him about the email that had, apparently, given rise to your forced resignation. "Who could have done it then, you think?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Cillian sighed heavily, the lines of worry etched deep on his forehead. "I don't know, Dermont. I can't think of anyone who would stoop so low," he replied, frustration evident in his voice.

Dermont's eyes narrowed as a thought struck him like a lightning bolt. "What about Kit? She knew…" he suggested, causing Cillian's eyebrows to shoot up in surprise.

"Kit? Why would you suspect her?" Cillian questioned, his tone laced with disbelief. Kit had always seemed loyal.

Dermont leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Think about it, Cillian. Kit knows how much you still love Y/N, and you fucked her. Perhaps she grew jealous and decided to take matters into her own hands” he suggested.

Cillian's mind spun with the possibility, a flicker of doubt igniting within him. Could Kit have orchestrated this? He mulled over Dermont's theory, his eyes clouded with suspicion.

“It was just sex, man. Kit said so herself,” Cillian pointed out though while running a hand through his unruly hair. “I just can't imagine her doing something like that,” he then told his friend.

Dermont leaned back, resting his pint on the table. "Are you sure about that, mate? Kit's been acting a bit off lately. She knew how much you love Y/N, and let's face it, jealousy can turn even the sweetest of assistants into vengeful email-senders,” Dermont said jokingly, causing Cillian to chuckle momentarily.

"Don't ruin Kit for me, Dermont. She's been nothing but supportive and she is a pretty good assistant,” he pointed out as he could not believe that it may be her who sent the email.

Dermont leaned in closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But what if she's secretly in love with you and can't bear the thought of you being with someone else? People do crazy things for love, mate. Crazy things,” he pointed out.

Cillian stared at Dermont, trying to gauge whether he was being serious or just pulling his leg. "You can't be serious. Kit has been with me for years,” he said.

Dermont shrugged, a devilish grin on his face. "Hey, I'm just saying. It's worth considering. Love can make a person do all sorts of mad stuff,” he argued.

Cillian rolled his eyes, taking a long sip of his Guinness. "You watch too many telenovelas, Dermont. Kit is not the culpri-" he began to say and, just as Cillian was about to finish his sentence, his phone buzzed, signalling a new message. He pulled it out of his pocket and unlocked the screen, eyes widening as he read the name on the display - Kit.

"Speak of the devil," Dermont chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Go on, mate. See what she wants,” Dermont told him and Cillian hesitated for a moment before opening the message. His eyes darted across the screen, his face contorting into a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

"She... she just sent me a meme of a cat wearing a hat, some Oppenheimer thing…" Cillian laughed, and Dermont burst into laughter, doubling over with mirth. "Oh, mate, you were so close to discovering her sinister plot, and she distracts you with pictures of dapper felines. She's good,” he joked.

Cillian's forehead creased with frustration as he slid his phone back into his pocket. "I can't believe I'm even entertaining this nonsense, Dermont. Kit would never betray me like that,” he was certain, but Dermont was not.

Dermont wiped away a tear of laughter, struggling to compose himself. "Okay, okay, I'll drop it. But remember, cats in hats can be dangerously distracting, especially those which build atomic weapons. Stay vigilant, my friend,” he carried on, and Cillian shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You're an ejeet. I don't know how you come up with this stuff,” Cillian acknowledged, causing Dermont to wink playfully.

"It's a gift, mate. A gift that keeps on giving,” Dermont told his friend before they clinked their glasses together, the sound echoing through the pub as they shared a moment of lighthearted camaraderie amidst the chaos of love and betrayal.

Little did they know, the truth was lurking in the shadows, waiting to unveil its twisted face. And when it did, everything would change.

But for now, they would enjoy their pints, laughter, and the blissful ignorance that only a good pub session could provide. The mysteries could wait; they had Guinness to savour.

***

About two weeks later, Cillian and Dermont were still hunting for cues, and it was Nina who told them both to give up and let it be. According to Nina, you took up a new job with a theatre production company that specialises in musicals and dance performances, and it was one of those performances that she wanted to see.

Nina had followed you on Instagram and Facebook for weeks, and you stayed in touch. You offered her some tickets to attend the show with either her mum or dad, now that you knew that Danielle no longer held a grudge against you.

In fact, she even tried to get you reemployed which, in the end, was an offer you declined even despite the fact that the owner of the dance academy apologised to you.

"Dad, you have to take me to see her perform! Can you take me? Please?" Nina thus pleaded, her blue eyes wide with anticipation after Cillian slumped onto the couch, his brow furrowing as he stared at his daughter, who was bouncing with excitement in front of him.

Cillian sighed heavily, running his fingers through his tousled hair. "Nina, we've been through this. I don't think it's a good idea," he repeated as, just two days ago, she asked him the same question.

Nina pouted, crossing her arms stubbornly. "But Dad, she's been teaching me everything she knows about dance, and I really want to see her perform.” She begged.

Cillian's gaze softened as he looked at his daughter. He hated to disappoint her, but he had his reasons for not wanting to see you perform.

"Nina, you know how things ended between us," Cillian said, his voice tinged with sadness.

“All I know is that you broke up with her,” Nina pointed out in response, to which Cillian sighed, finding it difficult to explain to his young daughter the complexities of your relationship.

"It's a complicated situation, sweetheart. We had our differences, and age played a big part in it,” he pointed out and, immediately, Nina, being the insightful teenager she was, raised an eyebrow sceptically.

"Wait, Dad, are you saying you dumped her because she's young and cool?" she asked and Cillian shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling like he was on trial.

"Well, it wasn't as simple as that, but yes, age was a factor. I did not know how young she was and when I found out I realised that it couldn’t work. I didn't want her to miss out on experiences and opportunities that someone her own age could provide. Despite, my career, it…" Cillian began to say, but Nina interrupted him.

Nina crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing with determination. "Dad, you're being ridiculous. Your career? Really? You hooked up with your assistant, it’s all over the papers, but you are worried about bad press because of Y/N?” Nina spat, causing her father to gulp.

Cillian shook his head, willing himself to stay firm in his decision. "Nina, it's not that simple and I would rather not revisit this. Okay?” Cillian then shut her off which caused Nina to sit down next to her father, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Dad, you need to grow up. It’s okay to be in love with someone who doesn’t quite fit within your ideals. Love is an iffy little thing, worth making sacrifices for” Nina said like a grown-up and Cillian glanced at his daughter, love and pride shining in his eyes. Nina's words struck a chord within him, making him consider her perspective.

“I read this in a book at school, don’t judge” Nina then pointed out, but the words had already sunk in.

"Maybe you're right though," Cillian reluctantly admitted and Nina beamed, her blue eyes sparkling with triumph.

“Does this mean you take me to see her performance?” Nina wanted to know and Cillian nodded.

“Yes, but only because I know it means a lot to you and you grew up to be so wise” Cillian chuckled softly, giving Nina a playful nudge.

Nina squealed with delight, throwing her arms around Cillian in a tight hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, Dad! You won't be disappointed, I swear!" she told him while Cillian found himself chuckling again, unable to resist his daughter's infectious enthusiasm.

"All right, calm down, you. Now, tell me more about it. Is it a ballet?” Cillian asked and Nina's eyes sparkled with excitement as she launched into an animated description of the contemporary ballet assembly you were part of.

Listening to Nina, Cillian found his curiosity piqued. Maybe it was time he saw for himself what he had been missing and, as Nina continued to regale him with tales of your talent, Cillian couldn't help but wonder if he had made a mistake by letting you go.

The performance was weeks away, but Cillian promised Nina that he would take her to see you. Deep down, he hoped that by witnessing your prowess on stage, he would find closure and the strength to move on. But, unfortunately for him, he would soon learn that the opposite was the case.

In the days leading up to the performance, Cillian's mind became consumed with memories of you.

He recalled your laughter, your teasing smiles, and the passion that ignited between you both, erasing any concerns about age differences or what society might think.

As the date drew nearer, Cillian's heart felt heavy, a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. He found himself becoming increasingly nervous and couldn't help but wonder what seeing you dance on stage again would do to him.

***

A few weeks later, when the night of your performance had arrived, Cillian waited at the theatre's entrance, fidgeting with his ticket in hand.

Nina, dressed in an elegant dress, bounced beside him and Cillian's heart swelled with pride at Nina's excitement. He took a deep breath, hoping that tonight would bring him the closure he needed.

They had good seats, three rows from the front and when Cillian took his seat in the dimly lit theatre, a flutter of anticipation in his stomach.

The lights dimmed, hushing the buzzing crowd. The stage came alive, bathed in ethereal hues of purple and blue.

The first dancers appeared, their movements captivating the audience. But Cillian's gaze remained fixed on the edge of the stage, waiting for your entrance.

And then, there you were, gracefully gliding across the stage, your body a mesmerising blur of movement.

Cillian's breath caught in his throat as he watched you, his eyes hungrily drinking in every sway of your hips and arch of your back.

The music swelled, and you leapt into the air, defying gravity with an effortless elegance. The audience erupted into applause.

Cillian's heart raced, torn between the memories of what once was and the undeniable beauty he witnessed before him.

As the performance went on, Cillian found himself entranced by your talent, lost in the way your body spoke a language all its own.

He couldn't look away from you, from the raw emotion etched across your face, from the way your body moved with a combination of strength and vulnerability.

Cillian's breath hitched as you effortlessly leapt and twirled through the air, your passion radiating from every pore. It was as if time stood still, the world narrowing down to just the two of you.

Act after act, Cillian remained glued to his seat, unable to tear his eyes away from your performance. The audience erupted in applause after each routine, but for Cillian, it was an internal symphony of emotions.

As the final act approached, Cillian's heart pounded in his chest. It was a moment of truth, a moment where he had to face his feelings head-on and decide what he truly wanted.

The lights dimmed, leaving only a single spotlight illuminating the stage. You stood there, a vision in black, poised and ready to unleash the depths of your soul through movement.

Cillian held his breath as the hauntingly beautiful music began. Every step you took seemed to echo in his heart, the ache of longing mingling with the bittersweet melody.

The dance spoke volumes, conveying a story of love and loss, of two souls intertwined in an eternal dance of desire and hesitancy. Cillian couldn't help but see himself in the narrative.

The climax of the performance drew near, a moment of climax and intensity where you and your partner poured all your emotions onto the stage. The chemistry between you was palpable.

Cillian's heart raced, his fingers involuntarily clenching around the edge of his seat. His eyes locked with yours, and he knew in that moment that he couldn't deny his feelings any longer.

The dance came to a crescendo and the audience erupted in thunderous applause, but Cillian was rooted to his spot, emotions swirling within him.

Nina's eyes flickered between you and her father, sensing his conflicted emotions.

She reached out a hand, resting it gently on Cillian's arm. "Dad, are you okay?"

Cillian tore his eyes away from you, his voice thick with emotion. "I... we should go soon” he stammered and Nina gave him a sympathetic smile, squeezing his arm reassuringly.

“Do you want to go and talk to her?” Nina asked as tears glimmered in Cillian's eyes.

“No, we should go,” Cillian told his daughter just as the lights came on.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murhpy #cillian x reader #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy fanfic

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heyiwrotesomethings · 11 months

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yor x femaler reader. friends to lovers

so yor is on an undercover mission on ball?and is almost caught by the bodyguards of the target when she is dragged into an alley way,after being chased, by reader and she keeps her quiet before a gunshot is heard near them and they are found.

Things happen and yor is knocked out and bound in a ware house were they try to interrogate her.

KEY WORD: try

Reader goes and commits h0moc!d3

Ballroom Blitz

Yor Briar x She/Her Reader

A/N: I know this isn’t exactly what you asked for, but I was unsure how to best carry it out so I tried to make it a little easier for myself. I can promise you that Reader does commit homicide though! For added fun, I thought about the song The Ballroom Blitz by Sweet while writing this, so if anyone wants to give that a listen, feel free. Thanks for reading! Word Count: ~1,465

“The target is in the back of the room in the burgundy suit, see him?” (Y/n) murmured into the minuscule communications device tucked snuggly in her ear. She hid the movement of her lips behind the champagne flute in her hand.

“Yes, I see him.” She heard Yor reply.

(Y/n)’s eyes drifted to the opposite corner of the busy room to find Yor navigating between the dancing couples in her signature black dress.

“Use caution, those men around him are trained bodyguards.”

“What would I ever do without your help (Y/n), thank you.”

(Y/n) could hear the genuine gratitude in Yor’s voice and smiled behind the lip of her champagne flute.

“Any time, partner.”

(Y/n) stood vigil in her corner and watched Yor slowly make her way through the dancing and chatting aristocrats, politely denying any offers to dance along the way. She briefly turned her eyes back on the man in the back of the ballroom. Well, it was supposed to be brief, but looking at the man, she saw how nervous he looked as he nursed another glass of wine. A red rather than a white this time around, he must have finished off the previous bottle on his own. No one would think anything was amiss if he suddenly toppled over once Yor slipped the poison into his never-ending drink.

Yet his nervous behavior concerned (Y/n). Was he expecting something to go wrong for him tonight? Had someone tipped him off?

(Y/n) saw movement at the target’s left and peered over at the well-dressed, snooty looking woman stiffly walking over with a large binder in her hands. On closer inspection, (Y/n) noticed it was the guest book and silently cursed as the woman hung over the target’s shoulder and pointed out Yor from the crowd.

“Yor, we’ve been compromised. Retreat and regroup—“

“Everyone attack!” The man shrilled over the fanciful classical music that filled the ballroom, jabbing a desperate finger in Yor’s direction as he practically crawled over the woman with the guest book to run away with his hands raised to the sky.

The bodyguards and even more men who had been disguised as waitstaff leapt into action and began lunging and shooting at Yor, flinging the ballroom into chaos.

“Shit—” (Y/n) pulled her gun free from its hiding place and aimed it at the ceiling, firing off a single shot. “Everyone who doesn’t have a stake in this fight, get down!”

Most of the people fell to the ground in an array of screams and shouts before they began scuttling away like cockroaches. How undignified. For some reason the small orchestra was still playing though, and for that (Y/n) had to give props. That, and they seemed to switch to something more energetic to match the hectic scene.

“(Y/n), go after the target!” Yor yelled into her mic, making (Y/n) wince, “I’ll hold them off here.”

(Y/n) wanted to disagree, but they really didn’t have another choice. If their target got away, then that wiggly little mole would never be seen again.

“Don’t die on me, Briar!” (Y/n) warned, dodging a bodyguard’s punch before elbowing him hard in the stomach and sending him to the ground with the bridge of his nose crushed into his skull.

Yor sent her a wink from the other side of the ballroom as she sliced another man’s jugular open while dodging a spray of bullets. It was strangely artistic, almost like a dance with the music still playing, a very bloody, violent dance.

But now wasn’t the time for (Y/n) to ogle her best friend, she had a cowardly little mole to catch up with.

She disposed of a few more bodyguards on the way out of the ballroom and kicked the double doors open, catching sight of the target as he scrambled around the corner. She ran after him and the ballroom’s double doors swung shut with a heavy thud, muffling the music and gunfire within.

After littering the halls with a few more bodies, she had cornered the target. She almost felt bad for the man sniveling and cowering beneath the elegantly carved mahogany table and red velvet table cloth, an expensive antique vase smashed against the ground and scattered around him in his hurry to hide underneath.

“Please, don’t kill me! I’ll pay you triple what you’re being paid!” He pleaded, eyes red from crying.

“Afraid I can’t do that, sir. This is the risk you run when you deal in selling sensitive information,” (Y/n) reloaded her gun and took aim, “No amount of money can save you when you piss off all the wrong people.”

She ended it with one shot, putting the man out of his misery quickly and only taking the time to check that he was truly dead before rushing back down the maze of hallways back to the ballroom to assist Yor in anyway she could.

“Yor, I eliminated the target. Retreat.” (Y/n) spoke through the communicator. She waited a few moments, but heard no reply, “Yor, respond… Yor? Shit.”

(Y/n) picked up the pace, becoming more worried the closer she got without word from Yor. She couldn’t hear the orchestra anymore, they must have wised-up and split. She slammed the doors open and her eyes were immediately drawn to the middle of the room where Yor was struggling beneath a mob of bodyguards while one stood in front of the dog pile, breathing heavily.

They all looked in pretty bad shape, Yor had given them hell, but they had overpowered her with their numbers and the one left standing was fumbling with his gun, spilling bullets onto the floor as he hurriedly tried to reload while his comrades yelled at him to work faster while trying to keep Yor down.

(Y/n) trained her gun on the man, “Drop it!” She warned.

But the man only tried to load it faster, earning him one of (Y/n)’s own bullets.

“(Y/n)!” Yor called out.

She looked happy enough to see her, but the weight of the people on top of her made her voice sound strained and (Y/n) could already see a bruise forming on her cheek and that made her furious. The time for offering warnings was over, now they had to pay.

(Y/n) fired off the last of her bullets to take out a good portion of the pile before running up on them and striking another man with the barrel of her gun with incredible speed and accuracy. It was then that the rest of the dog pile caught up with what was happening and tried to retaliate by fighting back or putting more pressure on Yor, but (Y/n) was swift in painting the ballroom floors with their blood. So swift in fact, that she hadn’t realized she had moved at all, the only thing waking her from her trance of violence was Yor’s hug.

“(Y/n), it’s over! You did it!” She beamed.

“I… did it. I did it—!“ (Y/n) cupped Yor’s face in her bloody hands, “Are you okay? What am I saying, of course you aren’t, you’re all bruised and scratched up!”

Yor didn’t seem bothered by (Y/n)’s bloodied hands at all. In fact, she cupped her own hands over them to press them even closer to her face.

“I’m okay,” she assured chipperly, “you don’t need to worry so much!”

“I love you, so of course I’m going to worry if you’re hurt! No matter how superficial the wound—“ (Y/n) stopped abruptly, had she really just said that out loud? Looking at Yor’s expression, she definitely did.

In the past, she had let a few things slip that she had later fretted over, a few actions too, but Yor was mercifully oblivious. However, (Y/n) had never flat out told her she loved her before! Even Yor couldn’t be that oblivious, not while they stood so close together with their fingers threaded together against her cheeks.

“I- I mean—“

“I love you too!” Yor blurted passionately despite how flustered she appeared, “I was worried about you going after the target alone, and when we get separate assignments I get really worried too! I can’t go to sleep until I hear you enter the apartment.”

“You too?!”

“Yeah!”

They heard the sound of someone’s throat clearing and they leapt into defensive stances until they realized it was the orchestra organizing themselves back into position. The conductor led the orchestra into the first few notes of a song before craning their head back to give the women an encouraging nod. An unflappable bunch of musicians to say the least.

“Want to dance?” (Y/n) asked.

Yor’s eyes shimmered and she nodded excitedly, bringing (Y/n)’s hands to her waist before eagerly bringing her arms around her neck as the music began to pick up.

#spy family oneshot #spy family x reader #yor x reader #yor briar x reader #yor forger x reader #spy x family oneshot #spy x family x reader #requests #anonymous

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silverstzrs · 6 months

Text

"One last dance"

Gojo love story? fluff? idk atp

This will be a short series cus i have many ideas for it 653 words only??? i'll make the 2nd part longer

The first dance: the sky after the rain

"What's a girl like you doing here?" A white haired man wearing sunglasses and button ups paired with black jeans approached you. Well you couldnt blame him he had probably saw you ask the baratender to make your fourth drink this hour

"This is a club," you responded but the swell in your red eyes say theres something more to the story, the white haired man sat beside you,

"Well those eyes say something else princess, whats wrong?"he asked, well thats a lot for a stranger to ask to a stranger and even more he called you a pet name, but you couldn't hold it in anymore you needed someone to talk to and god sent one to you, who are you to decline anyways?

"My ex left me.." trying to hold back the tears that the man who used to love you had caused, because although he cheated on you, you still loved him those 2 years meant a lot to you and he was the only person you had left."he cheated on me.." you sobbed letting out a few tear drops rolling off your cheeks.

The white haired man takes off his sunglasses to show his sky blue eyes, he took a tissue out to wipe the tears off your face.You felt a warmth in your heart again which felt foreign now after your heart froze to the man you once loved.

"Well then, lets get you to forget him alright?" he replied after wiping your tears away throwing the wet tissue onto the table holding your hand.

"Where are we going?" you sniffed following him closely behind he didnt respond but he pulled you to the VIP dance area which is quieter and had lesser people,

"We are here!"he finally answered has he pulled you into a dance position suddenly, your face was slightly blushing at the act. His hands were big yet it was still warm and soft.

"I.. I dont know how to dance.." you admitted but his hands did not let go of yours he just held it tighter,

"Just follow me!" he reasurred you, smiling at you with a big smile on his face, you completely forgot about your ex at that moment.

The music started, it was werid though.. a club playing classical music? You cant help but think someone may of requested it. The pair dances, you following his footsteps and movements, your foot stepping on his occasionally, but he never let go of his grip on your hands.

Little did you know, he was admiring your efforts to dance along side him, he cant help but jusy chuckle at your mistakes some times. You looked beautiful when you werent crying for someone you didnt belong to, your everything felt so beautiful to him.

Middance, you remember you dont know who he actually is, and you dont ethier so you decided to ask middance,

"Sorry, but I dont think I've ever got your name" you say embarassingly, you didnt even know the name of the person who helped you out of your sadness,

"Oh yeah, I dont think we did ethier" he joked a smile appearing on your face "Satoru Gojo of the Gojo clan, and what's yours princess?"

Satoru Gojo? He was like the male verison of Elsa, had superpowers (of sorts), blue eyes, white hair and came from a rich family background."My name is Y/N L/N" you answered before the music stopped.

Satoru let go of your hand to give you a slight bow, "Nice to meet you princess Y/N", you laughed at the act.

A group of girls walked up to you two, "You two are a cute couple!" they complimented, Satoru looked at them with a smile has you explain the two of you werent dating... yet

Two months after this occurence, he proposed, making you his offical girlfriend now, those girls were truly fortune tellers.

This is the end of part one!

I wrote this at 12 am so dont mind the mistakes!

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olderthannetfic · 9 months

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I've just read an article (in Gazeta Wyborcza) about a very popular series of books among young teens in my country, Poland, called "Rodzina Monet" (Family Monet). The author gained popularity while publishing on Wattpad lol. The article basically said that it's problematic because these books are read by young girls, even 10 years old, and it glorifies violence. Plus it just isn't well written - there were some fragments in the article and yeah it's not well written lmao. A woman in the comments said that her daughter is reading this book and asked if she should forbid it. Since no one answered her, I replied that I don't think forbidding the book is a good solution and suggested talking to her daughter about it, showing her the article and asking what she thinks about it. But I don't know anything more about that situation, for example how old the daughter is. I don't think I'd worry if my child were to read this book, I read trashy stuff too. But I started wondering if maybe there should be some control in such a case? The thing with the books from what I gathered (I haven't read them) is that they are about a 14yo girl, who suddenly lost her mother and grandmother, is sent away to US from Britain where she starts living with her 28yo (handsome) stepbrother and his 3 (also handsome) brothers. She lives in a beautiful villa since the stepbrother is super rich. He's also cold and distant and doesn't understand that she has issues with food (she has some kind of eating disorder). Some of the things he and his 3 brothers do can be described as domestic violence but they apologize, buy her expensive stuff and are all adult handsome men. Yeah it's a young adult fiction. The thing is that it's just not well written so none of the bad behaviours is commented upon.

Sounds like typical godawful id trash that people eat up. Making a rule against it will just make it more tantalizing.

It would be far more valuable to kick any worthless partners out of one's life and demonstrate not putting up with shit to a tween girl than to ban her from reading trashy books.

One could always try buying her something better, but IME, people who try that always do it wrong: they buy books that are better written, yes, but the vocabulary and sentence structure are a thousand times harder, there's zero iddy wish fulfillment, and the plot is something fucking depressing and supposedly edifying.

Readers can smell a tryhard "your taste is bad" gift a mile away.

I think it's also important when trying to find replacement trash to understand what the kink actually is. Why is it age gap? Well, have you seen 14-year-olds? They're awkward and covered in zits. Of course the protagonist is young like the readers and the hotties are older.

More importantly, why is it abusive? Absolute idiots will be like "Because society taught girls wah wah wah wah wah", but the actual reason is obvious if you've read trash romance for adults:

It's so the love interest(s) can be in the wrong.

The self inserty protagonist of this type of story has very little power. Not only is she usually younger, but she's poorer, a fish out of water in a new situation, etc. The way she gets power is by the love interest doing something absolutely horrible, realizing they have erred, and then groveling forever. Their guilt is an effective way to manipulate them. And yes, retail therapy is usually the next step from this particular trash classic all the way back to The Flame and the Flower.

You can try giving a teen girl a book about a teen girl action hero who is awesome and whose love interest likes her because of that... But if the reader doesn't feel awesome, she's still going to prefer a book about a loser with a destined, fated love or a misunderstood woobie whom other characters have to grovel to after not initially realizing she was special.

You can't fix self esteem by handing someone a book they don't identify with and telling them their id is wrong. And if self esteem does improve, that doesn't mean the lizard brain is going to switch trash fiction tastes anyway.

One can try leaving other fun books around, but that's about the most that could be helpful.

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totowlff · 4 months

Text

extra — you asked for this

➝ who the hell is in your bed, cassandra?

➝ word count: 3,3k

➝ warnings: cursing, mentions to hitler, homophobia, allusions to domestic violence, cheating, emotional abuse, stalking and comparisons between horses and people

➝ author’s note: my boss is being a real bitch today, so keep this adorable extra in tribute to her

Looking at the picture frame on the table, Albert Aldersey pressed his lips into a thin line. In the image, he was holding a newborn Helena, with a restrained expression, without showing any emotion. Beside him were his two eldest children; on the left, Jason looked at the camera seriously, while on the right, Cassandra was smiling widely, clearly excited about the new addition to the family.

“You never get tired of being a thorn in my side, do you?”, he thought to himself, looking away from the documents that Henry had left at Stansted House, at his request. And given the amount of paper inside, the man had worked hard over the past few weeks looking for information.

Upon opening the folder, Albert came across a large photo of a man. He had a smile on his face, his gaze directed somewhere to the left of the camera. Dark hair, brown eyes, white shirt with the first two buttons open. The logos embroidered on his shirt were all too familiar.

— Torger Wolff — he murmured, reading what was written just below the image, along with the photo credits. Nothing like the name Andromeda had told him when she spoke about her meeting with Cassandra at their youngest daughter's house.

He had realized something was unusual with his wife as soon as he heard her come into the foyer. He heard her telling John, the household’s head butler, that the things she had bought on Savile Row were in the boot of the car and should be taken to Albert's closet. He could hear Andromeda running quickly up the stairs, the sound of her heeled shoes echoing through the corridor.

— Andromeda — he shouted from the drawing room. The clicking of shoes stopped momentarily, as if the woman had hesitated for a few seconds before changing direction and heading towards him. As soon as she appeared at the door, Albert looked up from the newspaper and saw that there was, in fact, something wrong with her.

— Yes, Albert — she said in a low voice.

— Is everything okay? — Albert asked her, lowering the edition of the Daily Mail onto his lap.

— Yes — Andromeda replied, her voice tense. The navy blue dress she was wearing had a dark stain.

— Did you have any problems getting my suit?

— No, it was ready. John is taking it to your closet.

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them.

— What is that stain on your dress?

Looking down, Andromeda pursed her lips.

— I spilled tea on it.

— Where did you go for tea?

— I went to Pimlico to visit Helena. Jack is in Switzerland, she is alone with Tommy and I thought it would be nice to stop by, see how they were doing — she snorted, putting her hand to her forehead — But Cassandra was there...

Albert felt his muscles tense and his nostrils flare when he heard that name. “Damn it”, he thought, dropping the newspaper on the armchair and jumping to his feet.

It was a name he hadn’t heard in a while, and sooner hoped to forget; the greatest mistake he ever made, if he had any hand in her making, which was still an uncertainty to this day.

— And what did that bint say this time?

— Albert — his wife said, a reproachful edge to her voice.

— What, Andromeda?

— Please…

Albert couldn’t help himself. Any time his daughter was brought up in private company, he couldn’t help but talk about how she’d wronged him.

His daughter — if she was his, mind you — had always had a rebellious streak, thinking that she was too good to be just a wife and mother and had to make her own way in the world. She was an ungrateful aberration that spat in the face of the traditions and ideals that the family had held for centuries.

Albert had sent her to Cambridge to get a classical education and to meet an appropriate suitor, but instead, she decided to change her course without telling him or Andromeda, and ended up doing marketing, or some hogwash, for a motorsport team in Northampton. Even worse, the team she worked for was owned by the Germans! His grandfather, who was a Royal Navy officer in both World Wars, was likely turning in his grave, knowing his great-granddaughter was working for the company that made Hitler’s limousine. It would have been less awful if she’d worked for McLaren in Woking, at least they had a respectable English heritage.

— You know she is, there's no point in denying it. You try and bring a daughter up right by sending her to good schools, send her to university to get an education, try set her up with someone respectable, but she dates men without a pound to their name and takes some ridiculous job — he shouted — If she thinks we're going to take her back just because she finally realized that we were right all along…

— She found someone, Albert — Andromeda said, suddenly.

He couldn't hold back a laugh.

— Are you telling me that she found someone capable of putting up with her? — Albert said, mockingly — Because you'd have to be crazy to stand being around her for more than five minutes...

— It's worse than that — his wife murmured, running a hand over her face.

— And what could be worse than that?

— She's pregnant — Andromeda shouted, suddenly.

He felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. After hearing so many times from Cassandra herself that she wouldn't marry or have children because she wouldn’t give her parents the satisfaction, the news seemed unbelievable and infuriating in equal measure. Albert shot his wife a skeptical look.

— Are you telling me that Cassandra found a man witless enough to not only be around her for more than five minutes, but crazy enough to breed her?

— Albert, she's not one of your mares — Andromeda murmured.

— Even if she were, she’d have gone to auction straight away — he said — Too willful. Plus, my mares have a good lineage, good blood running through their veins, unlike that tart. And you know who's to blame, don't you?

That was the other effect hearing the name of his estranged daughter had on him — it reminded him of Andromeda’s possible indiscretion with one of his trainers some thirty-five years ago. His name was Seamus Doyle. Normally, Albert made a habit of not trusting the Irish, but his father had hired him when he was in charge of the stables. Albert kept him around after he took over because the man was as talented with horses as Albert had ever seen, like he practically spoke their language. However, when Cassandra started growing hair the same shade of red as Seamus’, he became suspicious. Nobody in his family or his wife’s family, to his knowledge, had had red hair, so it had to come from somewhere.

Andromeda denied it to this day, but Albert knew better.

Nevertheless, he knew people would talk if he treated Cassandra like the bastard he knew she was; it would reflect poorly on him and his wife both if word of Andromeda’s missteps came to light, so he had no choice but to raise Cassandra as if she was his own, but that didn’t mean he had to treat her like she was his daughter behind closed doors.

His strategy most of the time when she was growing up, was to simply ignore her, and it wasn’t surprising to him when their disdain for each other became mutual. It was easy enough to simply send her to boarding school and forget about her most of the time. He was too busy with the stables anyway, so he let Andromeda and the household staff handle things related to the children and simply signed the checks for the school bills.

Andromeda's eyes glistened with tears. “She knows what she did. It must be the guilt eating her up inside”, he thought, turning to the armchair and taking the newspaper he was reading in his hand. Albert was already near the door when he heard his wife call his name.

— What? — he grunted, without looking back.

— She said the baby's father is named Christian. He works in finance — Andromeda murmured.

A small smile appeared on his face. “That’s all I need”, Albert thought.

The next day, he contacted Henry, a private detective he had on retainer for certain occasions. He liked to be sure about certain things, like business dealings and the people interested in his children. He’d used Henry’s services when Jason told him that he intended to marry Rose, the girl he’d met at Cambridge and had been courting for a while, something he agreed on after an extensive investigation into the girl's background and family. They held no peerages or titles that he could find, but their family had long been in the jewellery business. They even made the medals and badges by the armed forces, and used in official investitures, which is why Albert gave his blessing to the union, despite Rose giving him nothing but three granddaughters and an enormous amount of headache.

Helena's boyfriend received the same sort of investigation, but, fortunately, the youngest had made a sensible choice. Jack was a relative of the Marquess of Normanby, and his parents had important ties with the royal family; the fact that he was, according to Henry’s dossier, the godson of the Duke of York, made him a perfect choice.

Cassandra, on the other hand, was the real problem. This was something he realized when she told him, in front of the then-Lord Glamis, during a dinner planned by Albert to introduce him to Cassandra in hopes of making a suitable match, insisting that she was not a broodmare to be auctioned off. Later, in his office, she defiantly repeated herself, telling him that she would never give him the satisfaction of her getting married or having children, which earned her a slap that left her face redder than her hair. Incensed, Albert told her that she made it incredibly difficult to put up with her, let alone love her, and she would end up an old spinster like her aunt.

However, that episode did not discourage her antics. After that, Albert had the impression that her determination to challenge his authority became even greater. The men she started to have relationships with were absolutely inadequate.

All the same, it made the man in the photo he was holding even more intriguing.

From what Henry had gathered, Christian was the man’s middle name. He’d included several photos of him; accompanying her to doctor’s appointments, and standing in the doorway of the dreary matchbox-sized townhome she’d lived in — that Andromeda had insisted on buying for her, for some reason, like she couldn’t afford to rent her own place.

His real name was Torger and he was born in Vienna, the son of an anesthetist and an art transport specialist, who died from cancer in the 1980’s. From what this “Torger” had said in interviews that were included in the dossier Henry prepared, he made his fortune in investing, especially in technology companies.

His involvement with motorsport came later, when he bought shares in the Mercedes-Benz Formula 1 team, becoming the team's CEO, which made him Cassandra’s boss. He didn’t want to even think about how his daughter managed to end up pregnant by her boss.

However, Cassandra’s choice still seemed strange to Albert, as this “Torger” did not have the profile of the man his daughter has had relationships with before. To his knowledge, she usually went for the brainy, academic sort. The one serious boyfriend he knew of — Callum, from what Helena had told him — was someone that she’d met at Cambridge, and had reconnected with when he was working on his doctorate at Oxford. He had no ambitions beyond his research, apparently, not even wanting to teach full-time. Typical.

Albert didn’t think there was anything wrong with getting an education, he was a Cambridge man himself, as was most of his family, for many generations, but he firmly believed that staying in school and collecting degrees was useless; one had to join the real world eventually and apply that knowledge somehow.

According to Henry’s dossier, this Torger person hadn’t even finished university.

— Mr. Aldersey? — a voice broke him out of his own thoughts. He looked up to see John standing in the doorway with a somber expression on his face.

— What now?

— Mrs. Aldersey is waiting for you to go to Lady Sybil's exhibition.

Albert snorted.

— Do I have a choice?

— I don't think so, sir — he replied with the shadow of a smile on his lips.

Letting out a sigh, he got up from the armchair and headed to the door, where John was standing, holding the tweed jacket that matched the waistcoat and trousers Albert was wearing. Albert threw it on as he headed downstairs.

When he arrived in the foyer, he found Andromeda standing near the door, adjusting her Cartier watch on her wrist. Hearing his footsteps, the woman looked up at him.

— I already told Sybil that we're on our way — she said.

Albert ignored his wife, straightening his lapels and adjusting his lapis cufflinks before heading out of the entrance of the house, where John had the Land Rover waiting. As he took his place at the wheel of the vehicle, Andromeda's voice was a mere whisper.

His mind was elsewhere, specifically on the gaps in Henry’s dossier. He had gathered a large amount of information about Torger, there was nothing relevant about his family other than the fact that his parents were immigrants. Albert hated it when Henry's reports didn't give a clear and objective view of those being investigated, especially their relatives. He could not imagine having the Aldersey name involved with people who did not live up to the importance and relevance of that family.

Aside from that, Cassandra was proving to him that she had made the first right choice in her life. The man was tall and fairly handsome, and had money. The fact that he was a bit older than his daughter was of no object, either, but it made him wonder if the poor bloke wasn’t desperate, divorced, or both.

After parking the car near the entrance to Sybil's gallery, Albert and Andromeda walked the few meters to the entrance in practically silence. At the door, in addition to a security guard, there was a woman dressed in a dark blazer, her blond hair carefully arranged in a low bun.

— Good evening, sir, madam — the woman smiled — Could you come with me?

The path to the room where the exhibition opening was taking place was a blur of color. Albert hated going to Sybil's gallery. He hated the clean, bright white walls and lighting, he hated the people that hung around the gallery, gawking at ridiculous-looking paintings and sculptures, he hated the vegan canapés she always served at the events she held.

But what Albert hated most was having to interact with Sybil's circle of friends. To him, not a single decent person would be caught dead there, just the artsy, continental pillow biters and muff divers like his sister-in-law. Andromeda could deny it all she wanted, but Albert’s suspicions were not unfounded. He had long suspected that Sabine, the French woman that was always with Sybil, wasn’t her housekeeper.

Upon entering the exhibition hall, he came across what seemed like a crowd milling about. The conversations filled Albert's ears, and he felt irritated by the sound of laughter and the clinking of champagne glasses.

— Romy! — Sybil's shrill voice sounded somewhere to his left. Turning his face, he saw his sister-in-law approaching with a wide smile and her hair down in gray waves. “Why doesn’t she color her hair? She looks so old and haggard”, Albert thought to himself — I’m glad you came!

— I would never miss an exhibition of yours, and you know I love porcelain.

Albert rolled his eyes.

— And that's exactly why I called you — she replied, before looking at her brother-in-law with a certain disdain — I'm surprised to see you here, Bertie.

Albert swallowed hard, grimacing at the stupid nickname. It was what his mother called him, but his dreadful sister-in-law found out once and never called him anything else.

— Why do you say that, my dear sister-in-law?

— As far as I’m aware, you’d rather look at horse’s fannies all day than at art.

— Sybil, please — Andromeda whispered, placing a hand on her sister's arm — Albert was very kind to accompany me here today.

The woman looked at him suspiciously.

— Bertie has never been kind to you, Romy.

— There's always a first time, isn't there? — Albert replied — Besides, what kind of husband would I be if I didn't protect my wife from the influence of the disgusting company you keep?

Sybil stepped forward, her eyes filled with anger.

— If you cared about protecting my sister, you wouldn’t put your filthy hands on her so much — she whispered, before putting a fake smile on her face and turning to her sister — Want me to show you what’s on display, Romy? There's a Hungarian vase that I'm sure you'll love.

With his nostrils flared and his face red with anger, Albert wanted to take his wife and leave immediately, and give his sister-in-law a piece of his mind on the way out. However, he knew that doing that, in addition to causing a scandal, would only give Sybil the reaction she wanted. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

He picked up a glass of champagne from a tray carried by a passing waiter, trying to focus on something other than the terrible music booming through the gallery, or the cynical commentary of the people around him. He stepped toward one of the windows and glanced at his watch, praying that time would pass faster and that he could finally leave.

Albert was in the middle of his fourth slice of pesto and tomato toast when he noticed that Sybil and Andromeda were looking at the piece that was right next to him.

— Ah, Romy, this one was a real find — his sister-in-law said, pointing to the small figure protected by the acrylic — It's a figure of a pantalone made in Vienna around 1745. It was in a private collection for a long time before being sold to an Austrian antiques house. You know how I found it?

— How?

Albert glanced at the figure, but unimpressed. It was of an older bearded man in glasses. It looked like a clown to him, the kind of thing one would find in a charity shop and not a high-end gallery exhibition.

— I was studying to put together this exhibition and found a very interesting book about Austrian porcelain. It was written by one of the greatest experts in the field, Elisabeth Bednarczyk…

Albert's heart skipped a beat. It wasn't possible...

— Did you say Bednarczyk?

His sister-in-law raised an eyebrow.

— Yes, Bednarczyk. Elisabeth Sturm Bednarczyk, actually, she is a very well-known scholar and collector in Vienna.

That woman couldn't have the same surname as Torger's mother by mere chance. It couldn't be a coincidence, especially because Torger was from Vienna, and Albert couldn’t imagine that “Bednarczyk” was a common surname in Austria…

— Do you know if this Elisabeth has a sister?

Sybil raised an eyebrow.

— I only contacted her to buy the piece for the exhibition, Bertie. I don’t generally interrogate business contacts about their personal lives or hire private detectives to stalk them, unlike you. It’s almost like you don’t have enough personal issues of your own, isn’t it?

— Just doing my due diligence, Sybil — Albert simply replied, as he looked at the piece of porcelain. “And because of that, I know that this family just became my problem too”, he thought to himself, as he read Elisabeth Bednarczyk’s name on the base of the acrylic.

#toto wolff #formula 1 fic #wlffog #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fic #toto wolff x oc #formula 1 x oc #formula one x oc #f1 x oc #formula one fic #toto wolff fanfic #formula one fanfic #etlwlff

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sigritandtheelves · 1 year

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All Along, Like Fire (Part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2

PG-13 | 2.1k wds | MSR, AU

A/N: Sorry this took so long. I got stuck and then it grew a plot and now it might take a minute to resolve it :/

1995

Something was very wrong.

Their case had wrapped up and they were filing paperwork when Diana dropped in. Mulder had expected awkwardness, even avoidance, but the look on Scully’s face was pure terror.

She said she wasn’t feeling well. She said she felt sick. She said “excuse me” with a little nod to Mulder and Diana and now he hadn’t seen her in three days.

There was an email saying she wouldn’t be in, that she was visiting her mother, and then she worked from the forensics office and avoided him. Mulder scrubbed his hand over his face and tried her number again: home and then cell, home and then cell. Nothing. He replied to her email a third time.

On the morning of the fourth day, she sent another email, just two short words, but they punched him in the gut:

I remember.

—

“Melissa, what if I can’t trust him?” Scully sat on her sister’s couch, tucked around a throw pillow.

Melissa’s had listened in stunned silence as Scully explained her fragmented memory. She sat now with furrowed brow, fingers tight over her lips in concern and disbelief—first that Dana’s partner was married, and then that said wife was somehow involved in her sister’s kidnapping. Melissa couldn’t believe that the broken, sad-eyed man who’d hovered in the hospital could have knowingly done anything to harm Dana. “You didn’t see him when you were first brought to the hospital. He was wild and desperate for answers. There’s no way he could have been a part of what was done to you. I’ve never seen anyone so… devastated.”

Scully remembered the way Mulder had looked at her in the hospital, the way he’d snuck in to curl around her late that night. He’d held her until she fell asleep and she’d felt so safe. What radiated off of him in those moments felt dangerously close to love.

But then a horrible thought struck her, and she voiced it aloud: “What if it was just guilt?”

What if he’d known something was coming, that she was in danger, that Diana had some connection to whoever had done this? The thought of Mulder as untrustworthy shook a deep foundation of her being, and Scully felt sick. What if he’d caught her up in his orbit, seduced her even, in that first year for this express purpose? She’d been deceived by men before: charmed and swept up and manipulated into believing she wasn’t worth their whole hearts. To think she’d let it happen again was unbearable.

Scully couldn’t even bring herself to tell Melissa that they’d slept together--not after the Daniel fiasco and her already shaky sense of self respect. She’d been stupid to let it happen again.

Melissa moved from the armchair to sit beside her sister. “You can’t know until you talk to him, Dana. You have to tell him what you know.”

Scully squeezed the pillow harder. “I know,” she said, though she knew what it would mean. She would tell him, and he would hate her for it. The truth, she thought, might bring their partnership crashing down around them and would probably leave them both alone.

—

Even in the darkest depths of those grieving weeks, Mulder had never given in to getting this shitfaced drunk. In the shitty bar, clinking glasses and classic rock and noisy voices all blurred together. He had a small booth to himself, and let his eyes go fuzzy in the amber lights as he knocked back another shot. Diana had left for Germany early in the morning, but he couldn’t go back to that apartment tonight. He didn’t want to face her things or her smell—or the truth that she could have had anything to do with what happened to Scully.

Scully. Oh god.

He’d been an absolute bastard to her, an unimaginable asshole of epic proportions. She’d looked so afraid, and he’d yelled at her, actually yelled at her that she was wrong.

Fuck.

He’d been so angry precisely because he suspected that she was right. But if she were right, he was a blind idiot. He was a duped pawn, and even more at fault for Scully’s torment than he’d originally thought. He considered all the post-coitus confessions to Diana, dumping his thoughts about every case, every discovery they’d made, and he felt all the liquor in his guts roil and threaten to come back up. All the information she’d literally fucked out of him. What an absolute dipshit.

He needed to get out of here. He needed answers, proof, something that would help him fix this absolute cock-up of a situation.

There was only one number to dial that might help him get both of those things. Mulder fumbled for his phone and stared hard at the display, trying to press keys with uncooperative fingers. He nearly misdialed twice, but finally the line was ringing.

“Yello?” A perky voice for almost two in the morning—Langly.

“S’me, turn off the tape.”

Muffled, turned away from the phone: “Hey, it’s Mulder. I think he’s drunk!”

A rustling, and then Frohike’s voice: “Mulder? What’s up?”

“I need a ride,” he slurred. “And some answers.”

—

“Shit,” Frohike said.

“Yeah,” Mulder agreed. He was slumped across the Gunmen’s couch, head pounding, only a little less drunk. He’d told his friend everything, including about his more-than-partnerly indiscretions with Scully.

“Well,” the shorter man started fiddling around with some computer parts. “I can check in on where Diana has flown, but only if she was using her regular FBI credentials. Unmarked black helicopters don’t usually leave a passenger manifest.”

Mulder groaned and turned his face into the side of the couch. “Gotta tell her I’m sorry.”

“Who, Diana?”

He shook his head. “Scully. I’m such an asshole.”

Keys clacked away as Frohike did his funky poaching. He didn’t say anything for several moments, and then he stopped typing to look at Mulder. “Listen,” he said, and Mulder rolled his head back to look at him. “I don’t really have the credentials to comment on anybody’s love life,” he began, “and Diana is one hot tamale, I think we could all agree on that.”

There was quiet for a moment, so Mulder prodded: “But?”

“But Scully doesn’t seem the type to make wild accusations. And she’s done nothing but steer you straight for the last year and a half.”

Mulder grunted.

“She’s honest and she’s good, and you’re a goddamned lucky sunofabitch to have her—and you probably shouldn’t have done what you did, though I sure as hell understand.” He cleared his throat, and Mulder wanted to curl up and die at that moment. “Way I figure, you’ve got a choice here, G-man,” Frohike explained. “Because I don’t think there’s any way you can keep both your partner and your wife.”

The silence after that was heavy. Eventually Frohike returned to his keyboard, clicking and clacking and searching for anything that might make this terrible dilemma easier, while Mulder debated between blacking out and throwing up.

—

Scully came to the office crisp and put-together the following Monday, though her heart had never felt heavier. She was buttoned up over the pain of his disbelief—his vehement denial and rejection. She’d told him the truth as gently as she could, and he’d pushed her away. She understood how hard it must have been to hear, just as she understood that after her realization, there was no way she could work with him anymore. Their situation was impossible. She had barely made it through the meeting with A.D. Skinner, and now she stood at their office door feeling like a traitor, like a quitter.

She loved this job, even when Mulder’s ideas were crazy. No, especially when his ideas were crazy. But working with him now put them both in a terrible position. She couldn’t work with him if he stayed with Diana, but if he left her, Scully would be the reason for their parting.

She couldn’t do that again—couldn’t stand the thought of being even partially responsible for another broken marriage.

There were other ways to find justice, and Scully would pursue them on her own.

He looked surprised to see her, sat up straighter, and in his glasses and rumpled shirt he made her think of their first meeting. Scully flashed on the fear and excitement of that case, on cold rain and the scent of candles and wind whipping through pine trees. She didn’t want to do this.

She had to do this.

“We need to talk,” she told him.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

A heater rumbled lukewarm air into the basement office, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke. Scully took a few steps closer to the desk and crossed her arms in a self-protective gesture.

“Mulder,” she said, gentle, working through the fear. “I can understand why you wouldn’t want to believe me. Why you maybe can’t.”

“It’s not that.“ He shook his head. “Scully, I’m sorry for the way I acted before, I shouldn’t have—“

“No,” she cut him off. “I mean thank you, but I understand. You need proof, or at least something more than my broken memory. I, of all people, understand that.”

“I have proof,” he said.

“What?” She wasn’t expecting that. She felt a shock of something like dread zip down her spine and suddenly wanted to sit down.

Mulder was nodding, an expression of anguish on his face. “I, uh, I had Frohike and Langly do some digging,” he explained. “Diana hasn’t been in Europe, at least not all of the times she said she was.”

Scully walked over to the chair in front of his desk and dropped into it, her legs no longer willing to hold her up.

“And there’s more,” he said. “Worse.”

“Worse?” Now her heart was thumping. What could be worse?

Mulder chewed on the inside of his cheek, as if debating how much to tell her. He opened a folder on his desk and passed her a sheet of paper. “Everywhere she went, women went missing, then came back sick. Sometimes more than once.”

There was a list of names and addresses on the sheet—forty, maybe fifty names, most in Pennsylvania and Ohio. “Mulder, oh my god.” She looked up at him. “The scale of this—how long has this been happening?”

He shook his head. “Years, at least. Maybe decades.”

He had found all of this so quickly, and now there were leads, maybe real information about what had happened to her. This was something they could actually follow up on—could she really leave now? Transfer back to Quantico and try investigating all of this on her own? Mulder’s face was a mixture of excitement at finding a lead and misery at what it meant. Even with answers he was still trapped in an impossible situation.

“Mulder, I came here to talk because I was going to leave—to go back to teaching until I could figure this out. Until you could figure this out.” She looked away, unable to meet his reaction to this. He was quiet for a long time and she could feel his eyes on her.

“You wanted to leave?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to, no.” She risked a glance at him and her own conflicted misery was reflected back at her. “But I didn’t want to be near you if you were still… with her. I didn’t want to come between you, but I couldn’t—and after what happened with us—“ she shook her head. “It was a lot.”

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“You must feel so betrayed,” she said. “I’m so sorry… I know how hard it can be to trust people.”

His voice was thick, on the verge of tears, and now it was he who wouldn’t look at her. “I still trust you, Scully.”

His words sent fire through her. She could feel herself blushing. “I trust you, too,” she said, almost inaudible. And she meant it. No matter what doubts she’d had sitting on Melissa’s couch, sitting in the same room with him now she knew her instincts were right: he was good. He was safe. He would never hurt her.

But their trust alone couldn’t solve this problem. “Mulder… what are you going to do? What can you do?”

She imagined him confronting his wife, accusing her, being laughed at and gaslit and then having all of their leads disappear. Would Diana disappear as well? Maybe pull some strings and have Scully killed? Then she imagined the alternative: Mulder staying married to her, pretending not to know, living a lie. Neither seemed a very good option.

“We can begin with these women,” Mulder said. “We can begin by getting their stories.”

She met his eyes across the desk and after a moment, she nodded. Yes, she thought. They could find the truth.

—

End Part 3

Go to Part 4

#a thing i wrote #all along like fire #part 3 #msr #txf fanfic #au

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bell4lan · 2 years

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Pumpkin Patch

Genre: Very fluffy

DNI: NON-MLM/NBLM, fujoshis, mlm/nblm fetishizers

Character(s)/Reader: Male Reader (can be cis or trans it's not specified) and Childe but I use Ajax instead of Childe

A crunching sound was heard as you and Ajax hopped out of his truck onto fallen leaves. The area was decorated with beautiful shades of oranges, yellows, reds, and browns.

"Aren't you excited?!" Ajax asked with a huge smile on his face as he grabbed your hand.

"Of course I am! It's so beautiful here." You replied, completely pumped for the day ahead of you.

Something you and Ajax have in common is that you both love pumpkin patches. When you guys heard your town was holding an autumn event at one, you both made it your mission to go.

So here you guys were, walking around looking at the beautiful autumn trinkets and activities . You couldn't decide on what to do first, but Ajax seemed pretty excited about carving small pumpkins.

"Let's do that first!" He said while looking in the direction of the stand. You agreed, and let him lead the way.

Carving a small pumpkin was surprisingly a lot easier than carving a big one, it was actually going pretty well for you. You went with a classic pumpkin carving design, while Ajax went with something more silly.

You finished your pumpkin and showed it to him, smiling bashfully when he started praising your skill. Ajax showed you his and you absolutely loved it. The design he chose totally suited him, it was adorable.

You both then headed off hand in hand to find another activity to do. "Let's do the corn maze." You suggested after seeing there wasn't many people.

"I love the corn maze!" Ajax said excitedly as he practically sprinted to the entrance, dragging you with him. You both paid and entered the big maze, seeing some scarecrows which freaked out Ajax.

"I don't get how you aren't scared of them. Look at them! They're so creepy looking." He faked a shiver as he looked at the scarecrow, making you laugh at his antics.

"You're not a crow are you? " You asked jokingly. He sent you a small glare and you smiled at him, starting to lead him deeper into the maze.

You guys both noticed how quiet it got and realized you were a lot deeper than you thought.

"We aren't lost are we?" You asked as Ajax guided you.

"Of course not!" You didn't believe him, but you weren't worried. The workers gave you guys a map before you went in just in case something like this happened. Also, you didn't mind having some alone time with your boyfriend.

After a bit of walking, you both sat down on a bench in the maze.

"It's beautiful here isn't it?" You asked as you looked around. He nodded and rested his head on your shoulder. You intertwined your fingers together and felt him scoot closer to you.

"I love you (Name)." He whispers and kisses your shoulder.

"I love you too, Ajax." You gave him a kiss on the top of his head and smiled softly. He sat up and let go of your hand. You looked over at him and saw him fidget awkwardly.

"Are you okay?" You asked. He seemed very nervous, like there was something he was holding back from.

"Yeah! Just um...(Name)?" He paused before saying your name, trying to build up confidence.

"What is it Ajax?" You were worried about what he was going to say. The day was going so well, there wasn't anything wrong right?

Ajax kneeled on one knee in front of you and fumbled with his coat, pulling out a black velvet box. He looked up at you and held it out towards you.

"(N-Name), we've been together for a few years now and they've been nothing less than amazing. You make my day brighter just by being around me. I feel like each day I fall more and more in love with you. To be honest I didn't think it was possible to be this in love before I found you. I've been thinking a lot recently, and i've realized I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to be able to call you my husband instead of my boyfriend. (Name), will you marry me?" He presented the band inside the box, nervously looking up at you for a reply. His words had moved you to tears, you wiped them away and cupped his face.

"Ajax, of course i'll marry you...but-" His smile dropped a little as you said that and pulled your hand away. You searched through your pockets and pulled out a navy blue velvet box.

"-I was going to ask you." You laughed through your happy tears. Ajax smiled widely and laughed at the insane coincidence.

"Oh my god, you were going to ask me today too?" You nodded and gave him a big hug. He moved back onto the bench and you opened the box to show him the band you got him. You slipped it onto his finger, and he slipped the one he got for you onto yours.

"I love it (Name). You really know my taste." He said before kissing your cheek. Your heart was beating like crazy. You were now engaged to the love of your life, you could barely process it.

You and Ajax made your way out of the maze, with the help of the map, and bought some souvenirs. You put the bags in the back of his truck and heard him run up behind you. He tapped your shoulder so you turned to him, completely caught off guard when he jumps into your arms and wraps his legs around you. You placed your hands under his butt to keep him up.

"Ajax you can't just do that without warning I could've dropped you." You said as he kissed your face.

"I don't care, I'm engaged." He said before kissing your lips. You smiled and kissed him back before setting him down and getting into the truck.

Ajax started driving away, but before you were fully out he yelled out "I'm engaged!!" and drove off afterward. You could hear some horns honk at his announcement as you hid your face in your hands out of embarrassment. You laughed into them and punched his arm lightly.

You were so excited to marry him, to spend your life with him, grow old with him, maybe even have children. You knew he'd like that. Maybe that was a step you could take after marriage, adopting children. 'I shouldn't get too ahead of myself.' You thought as you stared out the window with a grin.

You couldn't wait to tell everyone you knew.

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

This originally wasn't going to be a proposal fic but I had to do it the perfect chance was right there. Also it just screamed Ajax to me 🥱

I wanted to wait to post this since i've been posting a lot recently, but I love it too much. I couldn't resist posting it now ^^

#genshin impact x male reader #genshin x male reader #tartaglia x male reader #childe x male reader #genshin fluff #tartaglia fluff #childe fluff #genshin x male reader fluff

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theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction · 1 year

Text

Imagine going present shopping for the Avengers…

A/n: Happy Holidays you beautiful humans!! I wish you so much love and safe festivities x

Tinsel shone in its glory as workers climbed their tall ladders to fix decorations to a large tree on the street. Snow fall had started early this year and the city was alive once again. Despite the turbulence of heroes and villains, people flocked to their closest stores and exited with wrapped boxes and bags - it really was starting to feel like Christmas.

Clint had called you an hour ago requesting some assistance for an undisclosed emergency. Thankful that you were at the tower at the time, the journey to the shopping square was easy on foot but when there was no Hawkeye present, you guessed that he was stuck in traffic.

Buzz! You lifted your phone and saw a text message.

Running late. Start without me. Will keep you updated. - H

As you read the text, you made a note to ask him why he kept signing off as Hawkeye instead of his real name.

With him out of the picture for a while, a head start with gift buying for the team was a good idea. Everyone was off on their own adventures this year, some on missions, some off-world. You didn’t know their exact locations but you figured that you could get some help from a certain Sorcerer Supreme on Bleeker Street.

Forty minutes or so had passed with Clint sending regular updates of his location while also offering gift advice and you shopped around.

Found an amazing green scarf. Banner or Hulk? You typed out.

Definitely the big guy. Apparently he told Bruce that he liked how soft they were. Clint replied.

Funnily enough, you could imagine the Hulk making the argument about scarves. Easily, you proceeded to make the purchase. As you stepped outside, the wind was far colder than before so you decided to walk towards a coffee shop for a warm drink and to rest your arms.

Adjusting the bags around your wrists as they become uncomfortable, you tried to put the receipt into your pocket. You glanced up every so often to make sure that you didn’t bump into people when a voice approached from the side.

“I’m so sorry.” Clint apologised as he caught up. You paused your steps with a smile, happy that he had finally made it. “I was on my way when I saw a mugging take place. After I dealt with that I thought a cab would be quicker.”

Classic hero move. You lifted your arms to display the marvellous holiday themed bags. “My spirit cannot be crushed, Barton. I’m invincible.”

“I actually forgot how much you love this time of year.” Clint chuckled as took a few bags away to help lighten the load which you greatly appreciated.

“So what’s the emergency?” You wondered.

The man huffed as his shoulders slackened. “Christmas gifts for Laura and the kids - I’ve been so caught up in spending time with them that I didn’t get a chance to buy anything.” He looked at your blank expression and rolled his eyes. “Go ahead and judge.”

You sent him a small shrug. “I would but I was going to bribe Stephen with my homemade eggnog to use his magic portals as a personal present delivery system so…”

Clint raised his free hand, “No judgement here.” He gave a small laugh that finished on a sigh when he looked around at the people. “Navigating the busy crowds is going to be a challenge.”

“You’ve got me, what could go wrong?”

Clint smirked. “I can think of at least ten things.”

You took his arm and merrily pulled your friend onto the snowy streets. “Alright, Grinch. Let’s get some hot cocoa to warm that heart.”

While walking to the coffee house, Clint took a sneak peek through the bags and you were glad that his gift was safely hidden in your cupboard. You had created a new bow after he complained that his current one wasn’t the best for stealth.

“What’s this?” Clint pulled out a black box that looked very expensive. “An extra special something for a special someone?” He teased.

You lunged forward to take it from his palm, forgetting to hide it. You knew who he was referring to but you chose not to confirm the suspicions and tucked the item away into your pocket.

“That’s meant to be a secret. You only found out accidentally.” You reminded. “Besides I’m not sure if I’ll even it give to…”

“Y/n, if you don’t give it to the one person who actually makes you happy, I will. Got it? Christmas is the time for confessions of love or pining or whatever it is that you both have going.”

As much fun as Clint could be, you knew that his words were serious after all, even he was tired of seeing people dance around feelings. So you promised to deliver the special present as well.

The quest for gifts for his kids wasn’t a large task because Clint knew the perfect items. In under an hour, you both had everything wrapped or boxed or bagged and then loaded into your car for a quick trip to the Sanctum Sanctorum.

Upon arriving at Bleeker Street, you parked in a concealed area that was reserved for the Avengers. You and Clint pulled out the presents for the team before stepping onto the porch and knocking thrice. On the third knock, you both were transported inside the Sanctum suddenly.

Clint exhaled. “I remember why I don’t like coming here.”

You heard him but was more preoccupied with finding the wizard donning the red cloak. “Happy Holidays, Stephen!” You called out holding up the neatly bowed bottle. “I brought you some of my special eggnog.”

Clint looked around at the empty space when silence began to fill the room. “This isn’t going to work. He’s too busy with the universe to-”

There was the sound of footsteps before Stephen appeared from a hidden doorway. He approached and saw the drink in your hands.

“I am not the postal system, Y/n.” He told you slightly annoyed.

You nodded and handed him the bottle nonethless. “Be that as it may, you do still owe me from the time you accidentally turned the whole team into hermit crabs and then you erased their memory because it was so traumatic.”

Clint’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry, what?”

Stephen’s jaw clenched when he remembered how that ordeal only ended with your help and discretion (that is, up until this very moment). He sighed and raised his hands, summoning several portals. “Where are the presents?”

Masterlist here

#theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #gif is not mine #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #the avengers imagine #the avengers x reader #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #mcu x reader #mcu imagine

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j4y-lvr · 2 years

Text

❝diamonds of the sky‚❞…nishimura riki

pairing. niki x gn!reader genre. fluff warnings. none (lmk if I should add anything) wc. 866

You drew a sigh, sinking in your seat as the gushing wind blew past. You got stood up on a date yet again. The constant buzz from your phone persisted, the messenger on the lookout for you. You sat in front of the tteokbokki store that closed not a while ago.

The diamonds of the sky crinkled under your notice, gazing over the rare sight. A breathtaking view, yet you stood under it, turned all blue.

Your feet take you to wander about, an echo zipping past your ear as the sound of a lapping chain approaches you and screeches to a showstopping halt. You muse a round of applause.

"you got stood up again?" "maybe I'm just not destined for any of this," "if you keep looking in the wrong places, then yeah,"

"where else am I supposed to look?!" you banter, tired from the sequence of events, jolting your arms into a shrug. "what about me?"

It was then that you froze, your body facing whiplash as you perk a 180, facing him with your front flushed. "w-what," He props an innocent grin as he sets his feet onto the peddle, offering you a seat behind.

You comply, trusting the boy who had dropped the bomb on you out of seemingly nowhere.

"where to?" you inquire, gulping down the lump in your throat from his previous statement sending you into a fury of heat that crept up your ears, spreading the unusual warmth to your cheeks.

"my heart," he replies, turning back to send a wink your way before peddling with you seated behind him, gripping the material of his shirt in your fist, fighting a smile.

You look to the night sky as niki peddles at a calming pace. Unknown to you, a smile pricks on your lips with the serenity of the moment. Little had you thought that today would be led with niki taking you on a date.

Was this a date?

Either way, you appreciated the sentiment, mentally thanking him for something more than a night where you went home sulking and sat only to sulk some more.

The swift motion of the cycle's wheels drifting past the path came to an abrupt stop as niki gasped, both of his feet landing on the trail he trod upon.

The sudden halt sent you crashing into niki's (rather broad) back, causing you to grab your nose while a sharp pain throbs, subduing as you rub with the palm of your hand. An irritated huff escapes your mouth, "why'd you stop?"

"there was a cat,"

"oh," not like you could blame the cat for ruining the moment. Possibly because it made it much better with niki's hand clasping yours and securing it around his waist, "hold tight,"

What was this feeling, the feeling of being with niki. You found it comforting, the thought reflecting your action of laying your head on his back as he carried on, peddling, your eyes shutting in pure bliss.

"we're here," niki spoke, his hand softly tapping on your head to get your attention. "where are we?" You question, scanning the open area with not many accommodations around, almost looking abandoned.

Behind you was a shed where he placed the cycle to the ground, running up to the middle of the area spinning, waiting for you to join him. You hesitantly walk up to him, showing a small smile.

He pulls out his phone, fiddling with it before setting it on the rubble by the path, taking your hand in his. "would you like to dance?" he asks, mimicking an elegant tone of a prince you'd see in medieval movies and series.

It brings a chuckle out of you, "not like I can refuse," you respond, to which he laughs, setting a hand on your waist and guiding your hand to his shoulder, slowly twirling with you in his hands as classical music booms from the device.

You felt awkward doing such movements next to niki because he was a born natural when it came to dancing. "just relax, don't think about dancing to the music, let it come to you," he says, making the whole process seem flawless.

The moonlight seemed to smile upon the both of you, your moves finding a pace to the ballroom routine niki somehow knew. You tried to copy his moves but took it a bit too far by stepping on his shoe repeatedly, causing him to silently yelp.

"maybe I should just give up the classical music," he states, wincing from the repetitive stomp on his shoe. He switches the playlist, playing one made by the two of you, and waltzes back to you in a few flashy moves.

You laughed, a genuine grin spreading across your lips. You did a small dance yourself that caused niki to laugh till he dropped to his knees, sitting on the road covered with dust and rubble.

You sit beside him, gazing at the moon, stars, and all that could be seen above in the night sky.

You rest your head on his shoulder, a thought crosses your mind that he was right; you had been looking in the wrong places after all.

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