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doctor-dusk · 5 months

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𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢'𝐦 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐲 | 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐭.

you decide to surprise your boyfriend (late sias!alex) on valentine's day.

warnings: oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (piv), veeery sub!al (but then after comes dom!al cuz i don't know how to write sub lol), a bit of aftercare :3

word count: 5.7k

celebrating the baby recents in nyc i'm going crazy that man's just….... *chef's kiss*

the bed felt cold that morning for alex, not just because the thermometers were reading low temperatures, but because you weren't there beside him to warm his body when he woke up. which was kinda weird.

‘’it’s not possible that she left so early today.’’, he thought while still staring at the empty side of the bed before raising his head. he smelled your perfume in the room, albeit faintly, narrowing his gaze at the half-open bathroom door in the hope that you would get out of there, even though he knew that wouldn't happen.

especially because it was valentine's day. alex wanted to wake up, look at you and your messy hair, your sleepy face, wake you up with a million kisses all over your face, then ask what you would like to eat for breakfast.

he looked at the digital clock on his cell phone, seeing that there were still ten minutes until 8am. you usually never leave for work so early, and alex really hoped you could curl up with him in bed for a few more minutes until you ran the risk of arriving late at the office.

in addition to the time, he saw a message that you sent to him twenty minutes ago informing him that you needed to go to work early that day and that you had left the breakfast table set for him in the kitchen in case he wanted to eat something.

but alex wasn't feeling as hungry as he would have liked, limiting himself to taking some sips of black coffee as he got ready to go to the studio.

as much as he wanted to focus on the demands during the recording process, his mind was stuck on the idea that it was strange that you hadn't sent him anything other than a text all morning. he thought he could ask you to have lunch together at any nearby restaurant, even if it was for fifteen minutes.

his hand reached his phone on his pocket, the wallpaper was a photo of you that he took during your annual skiing vacation in the austrian alps.

‘’hi.’’ you answered his call on the third ring. alex was surprised by the way you answered. in fact, everything seemed too strange for him now.

‘’hey... are you busy?’’ he said after a few seconds, speaking softly more so as not to let his friend hear him than to not disturb him.

‘’yeah, why?’’ you asked quickly, getting irritated by a document that was not scanned well, which made you curse under your breath.

‘’nothing, i… i thought we could have lunch together in a little while.’’ alex replied, nibbling on the cap of the pen he had in his hand, pretending to be focused on the computer screen, but in reality it only made him more anxious.

‘’i can’t, alex.’’ you answered him almost immediately, making him bite the pen cap harder.

‘’c’mon, just fifteen minutes. i didn't even saw you get out of bed this mornin’, y/n.’’ he replied, trying to not show his frustration through his voice.

‘’i already i can’t, turner. i’m really busy, there's no chance of leaving here now.’’ you replied in the same tone to him, making him sigh and remain silent. alex thought about asking you why you were like this, but he thought it could just be the stress consuming you day after day, you have great responsibilities in your department that sometimes keep you up at night. ‘’are you going to say anything else or can i hang up?’’

‘’no, i have nothing more to say.’’ alex replied shortly, not hiding the frustration in his voice.

‘’fine, i'll see you at home.’’ you replied and then hung up, not expecting him to answer you back.

turner threw his cell phone onto the table, letting out a heavy sigh as he tried to relax his tense shoulders as he adjusted his posture in the chair. he didn't know if he had done something wrong to you the day before or even before that, because everything seemed to be fine with him. or not.

did he forget to take out the trash yesterday? did he not compliment the color of the nail polish on your nails? is he spending too much time in the studio?

after all, he was a man and men can be stupid when it comes to women's feelings. but you didn't have any communication problems, at least not that he knew about.

“tough valentine's day, huh?” he heard matthew comment next to him, his eyes never left his cell phone screen, but his ears were certainly very sharp to the conversation next to him.

alex didn't answer him, preferring to immerse himself in any recording demands and not stress about the idea that you were acting weird with him for no reason.

and well, he failed the mission miserably.

what alex hadn't really stopped to think about for a second was that this was all a plan so that you could leave work early and get to your apartment first to surprise him.

and of course, you knew that alex would probably arrive a little after 8pm due to the chaotic traffic, or even later because he would probably be too upset to not want to get home early, so you knew you needed to be quick, tidying and organizing the entire apartment, and of course, preparing his favourite pasta, as well as the quick strawberry cheesecake for dessert. you just hoped you hadn't angered alex enough to make him not even want to look at your face at the end of the day.

it was past 10pm, you were finishing lighting the last candle placed on the dinner table when you heard the sound of the password being entered into the digital lock outside, indicating that alexander had just arrived. you directed your gaze to the door at the exact moment you saw him enter, one of his hands was wrapped around the suitcase handle and the other was trying to close the door behind him.

turner was too distracted to notice that everything was dark until he smelled tangerine and pink mango in the room, as well as some rose petals that trailed a small path through the hallway. he stopped, looking ahead and seeing you standing next to the perfectly set table for dinner.

he wasn't staring at you for too long without saying anything just because he was trying to understand what was happening, but because you were wearing a red dress with shoulder-to-shoulder straps, leaving the collarbone exposed and the skirt with a slit that began just above your left knee. he felt disoriented for a few seconds to the point where he even forgot that he was upset with you.

“what is that?” he asked, letting his shoulders relax as you approached subtly, letting him see how your makeup was light, but at the same time striking due to the red lipstick pigmenting your lips.

“what does that look like?” you chuckled, taking the suitcase from his hand and placing it against the wall close to the door, then wrapping your arms around his neck. turner looked once again at the dining table, the smell of gorgonzola cheese sauce mixed a little with the aroma of the candles, not that it bothered him.

“thought you were mad at me. i spent the whole fuckin’ day reviewing my sins to find out what i did or didn't do.” he squinted at you, seeing you laugh comically, and then he couldn't help but smile too. “it was all a plan, eh? i should ‘ave suspected.”

“you're still the smartest and dumbest man i know, honey.” you quipped, sliding the tip of your index finger along his chin, lowering it a little so you could give him a kiss that probably left his mouth stained with lipstick. not that he cared about that. “c’mon, i made this recipe in record time and i want to know if you will like it.” you said, taking his hand and making him sit in the chair at one end of the four-seater table and you sat in the chair on the other side.

there wasn't a moment when you both weren't laughing, or talking about the food, or planning what you were going to do the next day. alex felt mesmerized by you, as if you were always able to make him fall in love with you every day, or in every act like smiling at him and asking him why he had that silly expression on his face when you get up from your chair, walking around the table to hug him, taking the opportunity to sit on his lap, feeling him hug you with one arm while the other remained over your partially bare leg.

soon, you were laughing loudly with your minds connected, your face was red from laughing so much, and alex was trying not to choke on taking another sip of wine, as he was now laughing more at your laugh than at the conversation itself. he loved those moments where he lost himself in the feeling of laughing until his stomach hurt, or just enjoying your laughing face as you tried to stop laughing.

‘’oh, baby, i love you so much…’’ alexander murmured, kissing your rosy cheek, dragging the kiss a little longer until he reached your parted lips, giving you a long open mouthed kiss as you felt him playing with the slit of your dress, his hand moved a little further to feel the warmth of the skin on your thigh.

‘’not more than me.’’ you replied, kissing him again, feeling him smile between the kiss, biting your bottom lip.

‘’why not? i didn't knew this was a competition.’’ he drawled his voice, feeling you caress the back of his neck, giving him goosebumps slightly. you pretended to think for a while, nibbling your lip gently.

‘’cause i have something to show you.” you whispered as if it were a secret, holding his hand so that you could now leave the small room between the kitchen and the living room, crossing the hallway a little further until you reached the bedroom.

turner wasn't too surprised to see the bed littered with rose petals and more scented candles on the nightstands. the dim lights from the candles along with the city lights that invaded the room through the half-open curtain only added an even more romantic touch to the occasion.

in fact, what really surprised him was a chair in front of the bed, which apparently had no use until he realized he was going to sit there when you pushed his shoulders down, making him sit down. his curiosity and excitement were already at an all-time high as he looked at you and wondered what was going through your devilish mind.

he didn't dare say anything as anticipation pounded his chest, watching your every move as you went to the portable speaker connected via bluetooth to your cell phone, double-clicking on the cell phone's screen only to make the first rings of the selected song start to echo in a considerable volume.

you shook your head gently, closing your eyes to feel the music a little and let you body adapt to a rhythm, your closed mouth hummed the melody, your hands slid across the silky fabric of your dress, as if you were in your own world and for a moment, forgetting that alex watched your every act without blinking, thinking that he was incapable of missing something, especially the mischievous way you smiled at him when you opened your eyes and watched him.

‘’i really tried to be a little more creative this year, ya’ know?’’ you said, forming a hook with your two index fingers to pull the straps of the dress, and then the fingers of one of your hands quickly wrapped around the zipper, just to lower it enough to let the piece of clothing run like water down your body. ‘’you're a little hard to please, turner.’’

‘’oh, honey, i’m happy with literally anything you can give me. especially this.’’ alexander replied, opening his legs a little and leaving his body a little more relaxed in the chair, feeling uneasy with his girlfriend's figure in just lingerie in front of him. you were always able to leave him speechless. ‘’this lingerie is new, isn't it?’’ he asked, paying attention to every detail of those intimate pieces, his fertile imagination just formulating the image of those panties and bra thrown in some corner of the room while he was too busy touching and feeling every inch of your body.

‘’did you like it? i bought it just so you could take it off.’’ you smiled, turning around so that turner could lose himself once again in your curves, in the skin that seemed to glow in the candlelight, and, while he would love to continue having this privileged view, he couldn't wait to do what his mind already formulated.

you allowed yourself to get a little closer to him in rhythm with the music, each touch seemed to send him a certain type of stimulation, and alex was loving every second of it, feeling his chest rise and fall restlessly amidst his heavy breathing, watching you spreading your legs so that you could sit perfectly on his lap.

‘’look at you…’’ you murmured, slowly tilting your head to capture every little feature of his face, feeling that his eager hands were already trailing a small path from your knees to your thighs. ‘’you seem so desperate.’’

‘’i am.’’ alex responded almost immediately, feeling your lips press against his neck as you tilted your head a little more, taking in his scent, feeling it invading your nostrils like a summer breeze. alex let his hand go up a little more to hold your hair, taking it off of your shoulder to leave the area free so he could give you a simple kiss, but it was certainly capable of making you shiver completely. ‘’i need you so much, baby…’’ turner dragged his voice into your ear, letting his hand gripping the back of your head as he felt you smile into his neck.

‘’oh, but i'm not finished yet, love.’’ you tutted, moving your hands up to his shirt, and then your mouth took his in a deep and passionate kiss. alex felt the urgency to help you get rid of the shirt as soon as possible, now enjoying the sensation of your nails scraping the skin of his chest from top to bottom, the skin boiling with the desire that consumed him more and more. he loved the touches, the way you handled everything and made him more aroused to the point where he felt like he would explode just with these small acts.

the kiss didn't last long, as soon alex was enjoying the sight of you slowly flexing your knees to lower yourself in front of him as you got off his lap. normally, you were always quick to get rid of his undergarments, but at that moment, you absolutely loved to take advantage of the slowness, just to increase alex's anxiety a little more to the point of realizing that he felt goosebumps and was holding back a few curse words due to your slowness in just lower the zipper of his pants.

‘’you're very…’’ he murmured, holding his tongue between his teeth and letting his mouth contort into a crooked smile. he didn't want to act like he was practically dying from it, even though you knew that very well. it was clear to you how desperate he was, and that only made it more fun for you.

you laughed, ceasing the torture that would probably make alex climb the walls at any moment or just lose his patience, pulling his pants down with his underwear, watching his cock pratically jump out of the confines of his underwear, painfully hard.

you licked your lips at the sight, wrapping your hand around his throbbing erection, making him let out a sigh both from the relief and the simple pleasure he felt with the slow slide of your right hand, making him shudder.

for him, that was enough to make him see stars, but of course you could improve even more by replacing your hand with your lips that were thirsty for that touch, getting a preview of his taste as the precum entered in contact with your tongue at the exact moment your slid the muscle over the tip.

you wrapped your lips around him in a deliciously pleasurable way that made him raise his hips towards you a little, thrusting into your mouth, the tip of his cock hitting your throat roughly, making you gag in response, drooling over his length.

alex closed his eyes tightly, letting his head fall back, a long moan escaped his mouth when he felt you stimulate him with your lips and hands, stroking him where your mouth couldn't reach. he felt the spasms getting stronger and stronger, letting his fist close on your hair when you took him deeper.

but of course, you needed to take breaks, letting your hands work their magic on his cock so you could look at him. his face was flushed and frowning, his mouth was half-open, letting out the moans and whispers of someone who was loving it, and his hair was messy, with some strands sticking to his forehead due to sweat.

he opened his eyes, sighing deeply as he looked down and saw you smile discreetly, pleased to see him totally vulnerable and completely out of breath. and only because of you. he felt like if you kept going for a little more he was going to cum in your mouth, even more so if your kept looking at him like that.

‘’fuck, baby, please…’’ he pleaded, moving your face away from his cock when you slid your tongue once again along the hard and pulsing length, he didn't want to finish in your mouth now. you were already so turned on at this point, so you didn't respond and didn't dare tease him anymore, using your free hand to reach for the elastic of your bra.

alexander thought you were going to get rid of the piece, but he saw the moment you took out a condom strategically hidden inside the cup of your bra. he found that to be surprisingly exciting, and even more so when you wanted to make a point of looking deep into his eyes as you brought the packaging to your mouth, tearing the plastic in a careful yet provocative way so as not to end up damaging the latex.

your touched him again briefly, always having control of everything you were doing there, from the moment you fitted the condom onto his erection, lubricated in advance by both precum and saliva, until the moment you sat on his lap again.

‘’you must be so wet right now…’’ alex murmured, his sneaky hand wandered over the fabric of your panties, noticing how soaked it felt at that point, which made him smile devilishly as he brought his mouth closer to your ear. ‘’of course you are.’’ he said, nibbling your earlobe gently, his hot breath gave you goosebumps all over, feeling him grope your back to get rid of the bra, and soon the piece was on the bedroom floor and your firm breasts were in full and total contact with his chest as the two of you began kissing again urgently.

and alex chose not to waste time, just pulling your panties to the side and making you sink down on him while your mouths were still attached, losing himself inside you and making you feel every pulsating inch invading you in one single thrust.

‘’fuck, alex…’’ you caught your lip between your teeth, arching your back a little, feeling his hand on your lower back while the other massaged one of your breasts, trapping the nipple between his index finger and thumb, giving your extra stimulation.

it didn't take long for you to place your feet on the floor, feeling alex squeeze your waist as you moved up and down, as if with each thrust you felt him even deeper, you were trying to concentrate on each stimulus and trying not to forget how to breathe. alex was also in the same state, even more so when every time he opened his eyes he was faced with the sight of you bouncing on his lap constantly, your breasts seemed to bounce like two large tennis balls as the chair was making an annoying squeaking sound.

he wasn't expecting you to use your best trick so soon when you were on top of him, so he completely lost his train of thought when he felt you rolling in his lap while he was fully inside of you and the tip of his cock was brushing on your cervix. it was slow and provocative, which made him place both hands on your waist and suck the air tightly between his teeth.

‘’that's right, love... you love doing this, don't ya’? you know how fuckin’ crazy i go when you do that.’’ alex murmured as he pulsed hard inside of you, twitching as his nails digged on your skin, which stimulated you even more, pressing your fingers on his shoulders as you’re getting more wet. ‘’such a little devil.’’ he said through his teeth, leaving a hickey on your neck that made you roll your eyes before giving a cheeky smile.

‘’i'd be lying if i said i didn't know.’’ you answered, feigning such an innocence that didn't go unnoticed by him, which made him decide that now he wanted to have control. he wanted to tease you the same way you did to him. he wanted to make you beg for more.

‘’i want to fuck you on all fours. now.’’ he said in a serious tone when your lips brushed against his. you felt the authoritarian tone from afar, and oh, how much you loved this side of alex, especially now when he’s so turned on, determined to have his way with you.

turner grabbed your thighs from below with both hands, not daring to pull out for a second, getting up from the chair and turning around only to throw you on the bed, his free hands now pulling his pants and underwear down so that he wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible, kicking it out when it reached his ankles. you loved seeing his desperation, the desire sparkling in his barely blinking eyes.

‘’turn around, ass up.’’

you turned around, your body was partially lying on the bed, your breasts were slightly compressed by the mattress, while your belly and ass were a little higher, your spine was arched to the maximum. alex loved the view he had as he crawled across the bed, parting your legs a little so the angle was perfect for him.

‘’look at you…’’ alex said in a purr, imitating your speech when he saw that the roles were reversed, and obviously he wasn't going to miss the opportunity to tease you a little since you were in that position, so vulnerable and so thirsty for him. ‘’you seem so desperate.’’ he let out an ironic laugh through his nose, letting his hands slide down thighs, a naughty smile appeared on his lips when you grunted something that he didn't understand because you were so numb.

his fingers caught the elastic of your panties, sliding the underwear down to your knees and you finished taking them off in one quick act, throwing it away. he drew random patterns on the hot skin of your right buttock with his index finger, leaving a few kisses there, and then that same finger invaded your wet hole in an easy glide, making you bury your face in the sheet, breathing deeply and smelling the faint aroma of one of the countless rose petals scattered across the bed that was dangerously close to your nose.

alex took his sweet time, loving the scene of you holding his wrist while he continued moving his index finger until it reached the knuckle of his hand, and soon his middle finger slided in, doing rapid movements that made you writhe like a true acrobat in bed.

‘’oh, fuck, yes, yes!’’ you moaned, feeling a hard slap on the other buttock that he made a point of hitting with his open palm to leave the mark, the burning feeling sending tingles all over your body. you gripped his wrist, feeling his breath hitting the middle of your back, trailing a few kisses to her shoulder. ‘’you love torturing me like this, don't you?’’ you said amid another groan, turning your face a little closer to get a glimpse of him, his left hand strummed on the side of you waist as if he were playing a piano.

‘’mhmm, it's my favorite pastime, darlin’. i love hearing you moan like that for me.’’ he bit your bottom lip, sinking his two calloused fingers once again inside you only to see you roll your eyes. ‘’and i really want to fuck you now.’’ he continued, increasing the pressure a little so that he could hear you panting with each thrust, his digits massaging your spongey spot.

‘’and what are you waiting for?’’ you asked, your eyes glued to his, especially when he took his two wet fingers out of you and put them in your mouth to make you taste yourself, savoring it as if it were your favorite lollipop, licking his fingers without breaking the visual contact. you definitely knew how to wake up his demons.

still without breaking eye contact, you felt his cock slide up and down your folds in a slow provocation, you knew he still wanted to prolong the torture a little longer, he was so thirsty to hear you beg for him that he just slide the tip on your hole, pushing just a little and pulling out, sliding it back over your clit, tapping it to cause minimal friction that made you close your legs a little and clench your empty hole around nothing.

‘’fuck, don’t do that to me, love.’’ you let out a whine, moving your hips towards him a little just so you could feel him enter a little more, and then he moved back, listening to her cries.

‘’what do you want, baby? tell me.’’

‘’i want y-you.’’ you said in a whimper, trying to get a hold of his hip.

‘’you already ‘have me, sweetheart.’’ he tutted. he knew what you wanted, but he wanted you to say it.

‘’y-your cock. i want it. please, just…’’ you swallowed hard, feeling frustrated with how much you wanted him to fuck you until pass out.

‘’just what?’’

‘’fuck me, alex, just fuck me, i need-’’

he didn't let you finish your sentence, sliding inside of you in one deep thrust, making you moan loudly as you felt every inch of him filling you at once.

alex took a deep breath, both hands holding the flesh of her buttocks, keeping it spreaded as he went back and forth slowly but with the right pressure until he bottoms out. you felt the strands of his gelled hair tickling your cheek and his warm chest pressed against your back for a few seconds when he made those slow movements.

‘’al, please…’’ you whispered, so cockdrunked that you can’t even think straight. ‘’the condom. take it off.’’

‘’you sure?’’ alex asked. the condom was something rare when you had sex, but still alex always wanted to make sure you wanted to go with or without it, always respecting your wishes.

‘’y-yes, please, i want you to come inside me, please…’’ you said in a plea, you’re so desperate to feel him filling you up that you didn't care about the consequences.

alex kissed your cheek, pulling out quickly just to remove the condom of his cock, penetrating you again with such ease, hissing at the feeling of your wet and warm walls wrapping around him, making it difficult to hold on for longer.

‘’faster…’’ you said eagerly, opening your eyes again to look at him, rolling your hips around a little more when you felt him buried deep inside of you, lost in a deep devotion that he even forgot how to breathe with those thirsty eyes staring at him and his slender body, begging for greater friction as you dictated the movements that made him lose consciousness.

turner smirked, gathering a handful of your hair in his right hand, pulling with enough force to make you bend your head back, forcing you to now support the rest of your body with your arms stretched out and your hands resting on the mattress, your head fell back enough so that your sweaty forehead touched the tip of his chin.

you couldn’t stop panting and moaning like crazy when you began to feel his movements gain more speed and more pressure, making you feel his cock so hard and with such perfection that you could even say that you were feeling the veins of his cock pulsing inside of you. the sound of your sweaty bodies colliding could not be overshadowed by the music that was still playing on the speaker, nor by your loud moans, as you were no longer ashamed to show him how much you were loving every second of it.

‘’that’s it, love. scream for everyone to hear how good i'm fucking you right now.’’ alex hissed as he moved his head to the side so he could place his cheek against yours, his fist closed tighter against your hair and his other hand snuggled firmly into the skin on your waist, his movements were increasingly intense and you felt like you’re literally going to explode.

‘’holy fuck, ‘m so close, please…’’ you bit your lip as your eyeballs turned white, trying to hold on as much as you could, but it was impossible when turner was massacring you with his movements, making your legs literally wobbly to the point that you couldn't support your body on the bed, but you would never ask him to stop what he was doing.

‘’mhmm, cum for me, baby. cum on my cock while i fuck you just the way you like.’’ he ordered, placing a kiss on the corner of your mouth, feeling you clenching hard around him. he knew this was a low blow from you, but he loved the way you squeezed his cock and made him dizzy.

you joined the clenching movements with a few more rolls, now it was he who felt like he was going to explode, continuing with the movements to his limit, closing his eyes and letting a broken moan escape every now and then that was not heard due to the sound of his hips clashing against your ass that echoed throughout the room.

‘’i’m fucking close, p-please…’’ you cried, feeling a knot on your stomach.

‘’me too, darling. cum with me, c’mon.’’ he muttered, already feeling the spasms through his body.

the climax arrived for both of you at the same time, followed by racing hearts, muscles tensing more and involuntary tremors. you felt your nerve endings like little electrical circuits, dissipating shocks throughout your body as you felt him pulsing inside you, coating your walls with his hot seed.

alex had to try very hard to keep you both in the same position, wanting to prolong as much as possible the feeling of bodies vibrating in ecstasy, your insides seemed to be much more cozy with the small contractions you were still doing. he let out one last long moan followed by a deep breath before opening his eyes and coming back to reality.

‘’wow. that was fucking awesome.’’ you were the first to speak up, hearing him laugh into your neck, pulling his soft cock out of you, taking a look at his cum running down your thighs, dripping onto the bed sheets before you could lie on your side so you could regulate your breathing.

‘’i swear, you're going to kill me one day, y/n.’’ he replied, seeing you laugh amidst your flushed face and smudged lipstick. and you were still as beautiful as at the beginning of the night in that red dress and under impeccable makeup.

‘’come here.’’ you called him with you finger, seeing him drag his body a little to lie down next to you, letting his hand go around you waist as he pulled you closer, looking at you with a silly and passionate smile, fitting his face into the crook of your sweaty neck, loving the texture of your shivered skin against his face. ‘’do you like the gift? maybe i won't be able to walk properly tomorrow, but... it was from the bottom of my heart.’’

‘’i loved it, babe. it could not ‘ave been better.’’ he responded with a laugh, removing his face from your neck to look at you again, not holding back from wanting to kiss every inch of your tired and satisfied face, which had a lazy smile after such an intense sex. he held your face, squeezing your cheeks a little so that you could make a pout with your lips and he could kiss you there countless times. ‘’still owe you a gift though.’’

‘’no need to, honey. i’m totally satisfied.’’

‘’bullshit. you can't expect that the only thing i have to offer you is my cock.’’ you giggled, your face was still flushed and his thumb ghosted over your parted lips. you didn't demand anything from alex, but still, he insisted on giving you the whole world if he could.

‘’do you know what would be very good now?’’ you asked, your voice a little choked up as you were still feeling the pressure on your cheeks and his kisses on your lips. he chuckled, letting go of your face for a few seconds so you could speak normally.

“a round two?” he asked mischievously, seeing you laugh a little lazily.

“i was going to suggest a slice of cheesecake.” you replied, laughing even more when he pouted, dramatizing an expression of sadness. “but a second round is not out of my plans for tonight. and neither did a third.”

“oh, you're a thunderstorm.” he laughed, kissing you again amidst a caress and the thought that he loved you more than he could measure. “a slice of cheesecake now and as many rounds as you want later, what do you think?”

you smiled widely at him, knowing that was an offer you would never refuse as you kissed him again at the sound of yet another slow song echoing through the bedroom.

#alex turner smut #alex turner x reader #alex turner fanfic #alex turner #alex turner fluff #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x you #doctor says

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theladyofbloodshed · 7 months

Text

Chapter 3 - Ruhn: Nesta's 25? she should be at the club

The phone vibrating on the bedside table told Ruhn Danaan three things. One – he was late. Two – the mirthroot that Flynn had bought was more potent than first thought. Three – there was a snoring faun next to him.

Ruhn leaned over her bare body to reach his cell. He’d missed the call. And six others. Plus a couple of texts.

Hunt Athalar.

‘Stalked by the Umbra Mortis,’ he groaned, flopping back against the pillows. Micah’s insistence that heads of the city’s departments should exchange contact information was proving more of a ball ache than anything.

The faun beside him – Ruhn couldn’t remember her name – stirred then blinked at him with bleary eyes. They’d had fun last night. Well, as much as Ruhn could remember.

He hit the shower, hoping she might find her way out to avoid the awkward exchange, but when he came to his room with a towel around his hips, the faun was still perched on the edge of the bed.

‘I have some, er, aux work to do. I’ll pay for your cab home.’

Her mouth twisted. ‘You can’t remember my name, can you?’

Ruhn flicked his tongue against his lip ring, stalling for time.

The doorbell rang. Over and over, somebody was buzzing at the door and Ruhn had a good idea who.

‘Official aux business,’ he said, ushering her down the stairs despite her muttering under her breath about him being an asshole.

A storm by the name of Hunt Athalar loomed on the stoop. He took a step back before the faun barrelled into him.

‘Seriously?’

It wasn’t Athalar who spoke but the pretty blonde that Ruhn had met a couple of days earlier. Her arms were folded across her chest. The fae look of you’re-a-worthless-piece-of-shit had been perfected on her features.

‘I need to work,’ said Hunt, turning to her and grazing his knuckles down her arm.

‘I am not a child, Hunt. I will manage a day without your company.’

He winced. ‘Nesta, you can’t cross a road without help.’

Her expression stiffened into stone.

Hunt’s wings spread out, veiling them, but not muffling the sound.

‘Hey. I care about what happens to you. Danaan won’t let anything bad happen. I’ll swing by when I’m done. Buy more cookie dough. Watch a movie.’

Ruhn couldn’t stop himself from frowning. This fallen angel was better known for gutting his enemies, not getting cosy with females and watching movies.

‘Answer your cell when I call,’ said Hunt, turning to look at him. Lightning wreathed his hands in warning. ‘Put some clothes on too. Ruhn – no shit today.’

In answer, he gave a lazy salute. The angel clenched his jaw, but didn’t pass comment. He turned to leave, touching Nesta on the shoulder as he departed, before bolting into the sky.

‘Welcome to my humble abode, Nesta Archeron.’

The place was usually a mess, but under her scrutiny, it seemed worse than usual. Ruhn was painfully aware of the peeling, graffitied wallpaper, the scrunched-up beer cans littering the stained carpet and the stench of smoke and alcohol clinging to the walls. The ashtrays were overflowing. A photo of a naked female was tacked to the dartboard with a dart piercing her head. Nesta peered over his shoulder to look into the living room where Flynn was naked and unconscious on the couch then her lip curled with disgust.

Ruhn guided her through the house, picking up discarded beer bottles along the way. Well, even if she wasn’t from Midgard, Nesta maintained the same stuck-up aura as other fae. He could imagine her and Sathia Flynn looking down their noses at one of the lace doily infested tea-houses the fae liked to frequent.

‘Do you engage in such activities every day?’

‘Not every day,’ he replied. Most nights though. And most nights Ruhn would wake up with a gorgeous female beside him with no memory of her name – but he usually sent them home happy. He had a reputation in the city, but it wasn’t a bad one.

‘Hello.’ Dec sat on a stool in the kitchen, already clicking away on his laptop. ‘You’re the fae who fell from space.’

‘Nesta,’ she replied tightly.

Dec held out a hand for her which she tentatively took to shake.

The three of them sipped at coffee in a painful silence once Ruhn had dressed. Dec kept throwing glances his way to encourage him to say something but Nesta had already made her opinion of him – and his home – clear from the pinched expression.

‘Do you need sugar for your coffee, Nesta?’

At Dec’s question, Nesta’s lips parted. ‘It can have sugar?’

‘Sure. And milk.’ Dec pulled open the fridge to sniff the milk. He retched. ‘We don’t have milk.’

Nesta frowned again. ‘How old are you?’

‘We’re only seventy-five.’

Her brows raised again. ‘Only.’

For an unknown reason, Hunt Athalar had taken a liking to this female who had a stick up her ass so Ruhn didn’t want a target on his back for cutting her loose in the city. It would be long fucking day babysitting her. Ruhn glanced down at his cell. A message from his father flashed on the screen. As if the day couldn’t get any worse.

‘What do you like to do, Nesta?’

She glanced around the kitchen at the piles of dishes in the sink and the overflowing bin. ‘To read.’

Thank Luna.

‘How would you like to see Lunathion’s library?’

She jumped off the stool as if sitting on it had been a punishment. Dec had probably cleaned them once or twice. He hadn’t. Flynn didn’t know what a sponge was.

Just as Ruhn thought of his friend, Tristan Flynn staggered into the kitchen. To all of their relief, he’d pulled on a pair of grey boxers. His chestnut-brown hair was flat on one side from his sleep. At the sight of Nesta in their kitchen, he pointed to himself then Ruhn, trying to remember which one of them had spent the night with her.

Ruhn cleared his throat. ‘This is Nesta Archeron. And this is Flynn.’

‘Oh. The female with the magic sword. Nesta. Hello,’ he said, winking. ‘I’m Lord Tristan Flynn.’

Her eyes went from his head to his toes then back up again, entirely unimpressed. ‘You need to bathe.’

***

The reek of sex and alcohol lingered even when they were far away from Ruhn Danaan’s pleasure house. The male was patient with her at the roads – no doubt in response to Hunt’s reprimand that she didn’t know how to cross. It wasn’t Nesta’s fault that those metal vehicles moved so quickly. But it was her fault that she forgot to look each time. On the whole, Ruhn Danaan seemed… fine. Not cruel. Not overwhelmingly arrogant even for a prince. He yawned his way along the walk, stopping to greet people he knew. But Nesta could not shake her prejudice because he looked so much like Rhysand. Even the low timbre of his voice was reminiscent of Rhysand’s despite the differing accent.

‘I have to meet my father,’ he explained. ‘I’ll save you from that. He’ll be panting if he finds out about the sword and he’ll want you wedded and bedded to… somebody.’ Ruhn cleared his throat again. ‘At the library, you can read books for free.’

‘I know what a library is.’

‘Alright,’ he said. Ruhn clung onto her hood at the approach to a busy crossing to stop her from walking into the road.

‘I can do the ones with the lights,’ she insisted.

‘Yeah, wait for the green male, good girl.’

‘Don’t call me that.’

His violet eyes alighted with mischief. ‘What should I call you?’

‘My name,’ she snapped.

The idea of Ruhn – Rhysand’s facial double – trying to flirt had Nesta wanting to shrivel up and die. No, it was bad enough having to listen to her sister and her mate’s toe-curling conversations. Nesta did not want fake-Rhysand to turn the charm on her.

‘You, er, you’re really not from Avallen, are you?’

‘I am from Prythian.’

‘You know of Fionn though.’

Nesta shrugged a shoulder as they continued down a quiet street dotted with trees as a warm, summer’s breeze swept through it. ‘It’s a story that I heard.’

‘I like stories.’

‘I’m not a good story teller,’ she insisted.

They stopped outside an elaborate building of white stone, made to look ancient even if it was new. A row of pillars lined the front, holding the overhanging roof up. Many stairs led to the entrance doors which were propped open. Ruhn led the way and dropped his voice as he pointed out places she could visit within the vast library. There were sections for artefacts, an archive, ancient books which were kept in glass cases, and rows and rows of books that were free for anybody to browse. From his wallet, Ruhn pulled out a faded card. The handwritten numbers were almost illegible.

‘This should still work,’ he said, taking to Nesta to one of the screens with portraits.

‘A television?’

‘Computer.’ He gave her a queer look. ‘You don’t have computers in Prythian?’

‘Obviously not.’

His tattooed fingers glided across the keyboard too fast for Nesta to make out what he’d done – so she pressed him on it.

‘I’ve used my library card to log you in. Still works after all these years. Good old public funding. You get three hours browsing then it will boot you out. You’ll have access to news journals, the internet, videos, whatever you want. Alright.’

Nesta nodded, not understanding most of what the prince had said.

‘Keep this,’ he said, pressing the small card into her hand. ‘If you want any books or whatever.’

‘When will you return?’

Ruhn shrugged. ‘I’ll send Flynn along to keep you company.’

‘Not him,’ Nesta said quickly. ‘Why can’t the other one come?’

‘Dec has a job. Flynn also has a job but he never shows up anyway.’

Once Ruhn Danaan’s steps faded from the library, Nesta was left in peace. The tranquil environment created by a library seemed a universal thing. She watched workers returning books to their rightful place and thought of her brilliant friend likely hard at work in Velaris’ library. Had news of her disappearance reached Gwyn and Emerie or would they hush it up?

Out of curiosity, Nesta searched her own name. It took an agonisingly long amount of time to find each letter but it yielded no results anyway. Then she searched Ruhn Danaan’s name and found pages upon pages of results about him. There was a birth announcement then subsequent ones about major milestones in his life. The portraits – photographs, she reminded herself – of him showed his glossy, black hair lengthening in each one with more and more tattoos added to his skin. His father, the king of the fae, reminded Nesta of Eris Vanserra. Both shared shining, wine-red hair and a long, thin nose but there tended to be amusement on Eris’ face like he knew a joke that nobody else did. Ruhn’s father appeared cruel and unwelcoming.

Nesta couldn’t help but think of Gwyn again and how this process would streamline her research. Rather than finding obscure references in books, a simple search could be entered and the hard work had already been done. It was magnificent.

Her fingers hovered over the keys, wondering what to search next.

H-U-N-T A-T-H-A-L-A-R.

Hunt had just as many entries as Ruhn did. Perhaps he was a prince of angels.

There were news reports that featured his name as one of the malakim who’d worked on a case in the city. He’d caught many demons from Hel, but also prevented a lot of crime in Lunathion. There was the odd photograph of him – where he looked entirely unimpressed to be photographed. Nesta laughed at that. He’d endured her experiments with his cell phone in good enough humour.

THE UMBRA MORTIS PURCHASED BY ARCHANGEL MICAH DOMITUS

Nesta sat close to the screen, scanning the lines of text to ensure she understood it fully. Hunt was a slave, as he’d told her. But he’d had many owners. The latest, Micah Domitus, was his fourth owner and the governor of the city. She hated the way those words were thrown around. Slave. Master. Bought. It made him sound like cattle.

She should have stopped delving into this. It wasn’t Nesta’s business to know – but she had pulled a loose thread and could not let it go until it was unravelled.

Hunt had fought in a battle against other angels. The general he had served had been his leader and his lover. And he’d watched her die at the hands of her sister. He had been prepared to die for his beliefs, but instead a slave brand was inked to his forehead. What had he endured for two hundred years? When would he be free?

‘Hello, gorgeous.’

Nesta scrambled to close down her search history as the irritating fae male slid into the chair beside her.

‘The Umbra Mortis? I can tell you what you need to know,’ said Tristan Flynn with an easy grin.

‘Shh. This is a library.’

‘Then lets get out of here so we can talk,’ he suggested.

Nesta couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him. He reminded her of Helion. No amount of charm would work on her.

‘Ruhn said you know about Fionn. I can tell you our version of the story.’ He dropped his voice to a whisper, ‘The fae one that’s not in any book or article.’

***

For a slave, Hunt rarely had interest in his day’s work. It could be made bearable by the company in the 33rd, but today, Hunt’s heart wasn’t in it at all.

He’d fired off a couple of texts to Danaan asking about Nesta. He didn’t trust the fae not to dump her or piss her off – and he’d learnt that Nesta wasn’t shy or retiring when it came to letting her mood be known. There had been no replies so far.

‘Hunt, you’re in daydream land,’ said Isaiah, waving a hand through the air.

Hunt spread out the papers in front of him at the table. ‘Because you’ve given me the driest task imaginable.’

There’d been an influx of demonic activity in the last four years so Isaiah had him searching for patterns – the time, the location, the type – through old reports. It could not have been more boring. Hunt wasn’t made for paperwork. Hell, nobody was.

‘You’ve been keeping tabs on our friend from the sky?’

Hunt raised a brow. ‘Is that what we’re calling her?’

Isaiah shrugged. ‘Micah will be away for another week. I’ve not let the word out yet. We’ve not found anything on the sword except that it’s magic and hated Ruhn Danaan anywhere near it.’

That did make him laugh. ‘He’s on guard duty today. I wonder if she’ll feel the same way as her weapon.’

***

‘This is what we call a liquid lunch,’ explained Flynn, as he insisted on being called.

The pair of them had tall glasses filled with crushed ice, brightly coloured juice and strong alcohol.

‘And it is acceptable here?’

‘Oh yeah,’ he said, sipping through a straw. ‘You’re on holiday from Prythian. Enjoy the delights that Lunathion has to offer.’

It was difficult not to enjoy his company. Nesta knew he was trying very hard to be liked, but also had an aura that he wouldn’t have cared if she didn’t like him either. It was different to be with the males from this land. Nesta felt safe with them. She could not imagine being left in Illyria or the Hewn City without harm befouling her. Flynn was a flirt, but his handsome smile was offered to every female with a pulse.

Money seemed no object to him either, so she had to wonder what he did or what he was a lord of. When her eyes had snagged on a dress, Tristan Flynn had wasted no time in purchasing it. A pastry pumped with cream had also been bought for her to snack on as they walked along the Istros counting the otters. He’d introduced her to one of the Mer who basked on the bank, enjoying the sun streaming upon his glistening muscles, but Nesta had been reluctant to get too close to the edge after Hunt had mentioned creatures called Sobeks. It brought up too many memories of being dragged to the bottom with the kelpie.

‘I can’t pay you for any of this,’ she replied.

Nesta took a tentative sip of her drink – and found it to taste delightful.

‘Wire me it back from Prythian,’ said Flynn, winking.

‘I have no money there either.’

‘A kept female?’

How right he was, Nesta thought. Everything in Prythian came with a condition. Look for these items or we’ll dump you in the mortal lands. Train or we won’t let you out. Her food, her lodging, her clothing, her everything was benevolently provided by Rhysand as long as she toed the line and did as she was told.

A female pulled up a chair at their table. Flynn’s demeanour changed at once.

‘What are you doing to this poor female, Tristan? She looks positively morose in your company.’

‘Haven’t you got a rich male to sink your claws into in The Five Roses?’

The female was as petite as she was, with light green eyes that were at odds with her dark hair. ‘I was actually on my way to have my hair done then I saw you tormenting a female and thought I might offer her a lifeline out of your abysmal company.’

Nesta had been about to offer that Flynn was not that bad – a shameless flirt perhaps who thought money could buy her affections – when he announced that their guest was his sister, Sathia.

‘I’ve not seen you before,’ she said, in a tone that suggested Sathia knew all of the fae worth knowing.

‘Nesta is visiting from Avallen.’

‘Father will be overjoyed to hear that you’re courting her.’

A blush stole across Flynn’s cheeks. ‘I’m not. Ruhn is.’

‘He most certainly is not,’ Nesta shot back.

Sathia took hold of Nesta’s hand to examine it. ‘Your nails are ghastly. Have you ever had a manicure?’

Nesta did not know the word. She glanced to Flynn who was staring daggers at his sister. ‘No.’

‘Then we must remedy it at once. Tristan, go and find another female to pant over. We’re busy.’

‘Can’t. Ruhn’s tasked me with looking after her.’

Sathia smiled sweetly to her brother. ‘Then I suppose you can come for a manicure too.’

***

A visit with Einear Danaan always left Ruhn bitter and broken inside. No matter what he did, he was always reduced to a boy who could never match his father’s demands. Ruhn could shake it off, pretend he didn’t care, but he always left his father’s villa with another splintering crack running through him.

He hadn’t planned to spend so long there, but his father had kept him, demanding information about the wolves and vamps. They’d gone over reports then his father had insisted on showing him his working model of the universe. That had kept Ruhn longer as he tried to wheedle out information about Fionn and the northern rift from his father without exposing Nesta.

It was dark when Ruhn finally left the Five Roses. There’d been a couple of messages from Athalar. One asking how Nesta was and another saying he would be later than planned but to stay with her until he arrived.

Ruhn groaned. If she hadn’t killed Flynn in all the time that they’d been together, it would be a miracle.

‘Dec, where’s Flynn?’ Ruhn asked into his cell. ‘He’s not picking up.’

Music thumped in the background of wherever Dec was. Through the cacophony, Ruhn made out, ‘We’re all in the White Raven.’

Hunt Athalar was going to kill him.

***

Sathia Flynn was going to kill her.

They had managed to lose her brother in a nail salon when his patience frayed. He’d given Nesta a card and said it was for emergencies only. It was not like the library card that Ruhn had given her. This one allowed Sathia to purchase anything.

Both her fingernail and toenails had been trimmed and buffed then painted. They’d gone to another shop where Nesta’s hair had been cut an inch or two shorter, but Sathia had her hair painted too and complained keeping it dark was so much upkeep – whatever that meant. They had gone shopping for heeled shoes and clothes that Sathia used her brother’s card to pay for. Then they’d gone to another place where Nesta had experienced pain like no other. Hot wax had been put on her body to rip out her hair.

‘Is it supposed to be this painful?’

They were in the bathroom of a club. She imagined Rita’s to look similar, but music played so loudly that it made the walls vibrate. They had drunk lots of cocktails. Her favourite – and the most difficult to ask for – was sex on the beach. Sathia and her friends had dusted glitter on to her face – and their own. One, Alice, was applying more make up in the mirror. Nesta barely recognised herself with her hair unbound and cosmetics on her skin too.

‘You can go commando,’ offered Sathia.

Nesta narrowed her eyes. She knew what that meant thanks to Hunt. ‘Do males do the same? The waxing down there?’

One of Sathia’s friends, Prunella, swigged at a bottle of wine where she sat on the sink. ‘You’re lucky if they trim.’

‘That’s why you get a vibrator,’ chimed in Alice.

‘What’s a vibrator?’

Sathia squealed. ‘I just love her.’ She ran her hand against Nesta’s hair. ‘Right. Shots and dancing. Let’s go.’

***

Hunt felt his age when he left the Comitium. A day spent at a desk had left his neck and back aching from holding up his wings. When he landed at Ruhn Danaan’s home, none of the lights were on. He bit back his irritation and dialled his number.

‘Where are you?’

Hunt had no doubt that Nesta would be able to hold her own. The issue was she was naïve in their world and he knew what fae pricks were like.

‘We’re out,’ said Ruhn.

‘Where?’

There was a slight intake of breath. ‘The White Raven.’

Fae assholes.

It was a short flight to the Old Square. The owner of the club was a butterfly shifter who was still on the door greeting patrons. At the sight of Hunt landing, with lightning crackling in the air, his jovial expression changed to one of concern.

‘Not trouble here, I hope?’

‘Off the clock,’ he replied tightly. ‘Come to visit a friend.’

‘There won’t be trouble?’

Hunt threw him a bland smile. ‘Let’s hope not.’

He spotted the three fae pricks drinking amongst other females at a booth near the door with Nesta not amongst them. Hunt worked his jaw as he marched over. One day, Ruhn Danaan would learn to grow up.

‘Where is she?’

‘In my defence,’ slurred Tristan Flynn, ‘it was my sister who brought her here. We’re just on guard duty, doing as we're told, Umbra Mortis.’

Declan Emmett, the most amenable of the three, pointed towards the throbbing dance floor. ‘She’s just enjoying the music.’

The others began peeling away from her at the sight of the Umbra Mortis striding through the crowd, a scowl on his face. Loose and free, Nesta was dancing amongst a group of fae females with her gorgeous hair tumbling behind her, without a care.

Gone was the female in leathers with a sword strapped to her spine. Gone was the female who found jeans uncomfortable. She was lost in the music, utterly free. One of the fae had shelled out on a new wardrobe for her, by the looks of the sparkly, black dress that skimmed her thighs and clung to her narrow waist. A shimmer of pink glitter dusted her cheeks.

When Nesta finally noticed the ebb of the crowd as he approached, she finally snapped her attention towards him.

‘Orion!’

Before Hunt could react, Nesta had moved at preternatural speed – faster than fae in Midgard could move – to throw her arms around his neck and lean all of her weight on him. Hunt lifted her off the floor to steady both of them and Nesta pressed deeper into his body.

Nobody had called him Orion for a long time – and never with such warmth.

She kissed his cheek. ‘Have you come to dance?’

‘No,’ he replied over the thump of the music. ‘To see you safely home. I was worried. Do you want to go with me?’

'I will go wherever you lead me, Orion.'

There was little resistance from Nesta who seemed happy to be led through the crowd towards the exit. From the giddy expression, she’d had a lot of drinks under Ruhn Danaan’s care. Hunt pulled off his jacket to protect her from the chill of the night on the way out.

‘Did you have fun with Ruhn?’

Nesta gave him a funny sort of smile with bleary eyes. ‘The Prince of Pricks.’

‘Shh,’ he reminded her as they passed a group of fae also staggering along the path. ‘You’ll get me into trouble.’

Hunt held out a hand for Nesta to take to steady her clumsy steps. Instead, she fell against him, knocking the air from his ribs as her arms came around his body.

‘Thank the Mother that he isn’t like Rhys even if they have the same face,’ she said.

On the walk home, Hunt hoped the fresh air might sober her up but it only emphasised just how drunk she was. Twice, he’d had to grab her before she planted her face into the concrete then she insisted she wanted to walk along a wall so Hunt had held her hand tightly while Nesta stepped across the crumbling brick in perilously high heels like a wobbling toddler. At the end, she leapt into his arms – before he was ready, so the pair had nearly gone down together.

‘I missed you today,’ she said with colour high in her cheeks.

It was just drunken talk, but Hunt would play that on a loop in his mind until he was dust.

It was too far to her hotel. If they walked, they might be there by sunrise with the pace Nesta was setting and Hunt didn’t want to risk her throwing up on him if they flew. The Comitium loomed on the horizon, still a hub of activity despite the late hour. He’d take her to the barracks. It wouldn’t be the first time somebody had been snuck in, although never by him.

‘Are you going to lock me up, Hunt Athalar?’

He grinned at that. ‘Have you committed an offence?’

Nesta gave him another inebriated smile as she clambered up another low wall to walk along. ‘I used to be a very bad girl. So they locked me in the House of Wind and destroyed my home and made me train until I was very good girl,’ she slurred.

Hunt lifted her off the wall before she fell and broke her neck.

‘Who locked you up?’

‘My family. My sisters. Cassian. Rhysand. All of them.’ She threw out her hands like it should have been obvious. ‘They all sat and told me how useless I am. You have become a pathetic waste of life.’ Nesta gave a low laugh then jabbed him in the chest. ‘Not eating won’t bring your father back, Hunt. And – my personal favourite – we did this because we love you. We ruined your life, ruined your future, but it’s because we love you.’

‘Stop,’ Hunt commanded, holding her still. ‘What are you talking about?’

Then it all came out, as if Nesta couldn’t stop herself. How she’d witnessed her father’s neck snap and retreated into herself because she couldn’t cope with the grief. How she drank every single night and took men to her bed to hate herself more. That her family had staged an intervention and forced her to become a warrior even if she had never wanted it. That her sister’s child would kill her but when Nesta revealed the truth, the male she was entwined with forced her to march until she collapsed. If Hunt ever met him, he’d kill him.

Nesta crawled onto the path then flopped onto her back. ‘The whole world is spinning.’

Despite Hunt’s attempts at trying to lift her up, she’d become a deadweight and patted the ground so he’d be beside her.

‘Nesta, we can’t lay in the middle of the path.’

‘Please,’ she begged, voice full of pleading so desperate that it twisted his heart.

What the hell was he doing? Hunt eventually lay next to Nesta on the concrete. The bright lights of the streetlamps blocked out most of the stars so he had the mad urge to fly her all the way to Mount Hermon for a better view. The night before that final battle, he and Shahar had fucked like animals – but Hunt had gone out to look at the stars one last time before the dawn took them. The stars had been stunning. And he had naively took it as a good omen because they’d made him hope of a better future.

‘I ruin everything, Hunt.’

He laced his fingers into hers. ‘That makes two of us then.’

Nesta closed her eyes, her other hand pressing against her forehead.

‘What did you drink today?’

‘Cocktails. Shots. Liquid lunch.’

Oh, she would need a medwitch in the morning to stop the hangover from hell.

‘They didn’t give you any mirthroot? No lightseeker?’

‘I don’t know what they are.’

When Nesta was ready, she pushed off from the ground and scrambled upright again. In the morning, he’d call Ruhn Danaan to give him an earful about getting a female who was lost in their world blind drunk.

From the bare shoulders that her dress exposed, Hunt could see the tattoo on Nesta’s back again.

‘The male who made a deal with you and made you hike - is he your mate?’

Nesta threw up her hands then flopped onto a wooden bench on the sidewalk. ‘He trapped me in a house and laughed at me when I fell down the stairs. He fucking better not be.’

Hunt crouched down in front of her, touching a length of her hair. ‘Let’s get you to sleep. We will talk about it all tomorrow and see if I can help.’

Although, he doubted he’d get this much truth from her in a sober state.

Her mood was swinging to a different emotion every minute so Hunt wasn’t sure which Nesta he’d see next.

‘I don’t think you’d make me carry a heavy bag and make me walk until I collapsed.’

‘Never.’

Her hand touched his face, stroking it gently. Tears welled in her eyes. ‘I did something stupid.’

Hunt caught her hand and kept it cradled to his face.

‘I went to the library and I searched your name. I know why you’re slave. I know what happened.’

It meant Nesta knew about Shahar. Sandriel. The war. The slaughter. Who he was. What he did.

She freed her fingers to touch the witch-ink on his brow.

‘Orion,’ murmured Nesta.

There would come the inevitable revulsion. Some still believed in their cause even if they’d never act on it, but most found it laughable. Each person had a place in life, a standing which would never change. If you were at the bottom, then it was tough luck. Those at the top would always be there. Hunt had been a fool to hope he could change the world. And he’d lost everything as a result.

Tears spilt down her cheeks. ‘I wish there was a Hunt Athalar in my world fighting for people like me.’

‘Nobody wants that,’ he replied, standing and deflecting from the tenderness in Nesta’s voice. ‘Let’s get you to bed.’

The bubble of emotion that Nesta had shown to him was replaced for a strange sort of anger where everything irritated her on the final portion of the walk. When she walked into the hedge, despite his best efforts in tugging her out of its path, Nesta kicked it – then told it off for hurting her leg. At the Comitium, Hunt took her in the elevator but forgot how curious it would make her. When he showed her how to press a button for their floor, she pressed every single one then complained that it was a ridiculous invention for stopping at every floor.

There were some battles that Hunt knew not to engage in.

He steered Nesta into one of the kitchens. It was a small, rudimentary thing for snacks with most meals provided in a mess hall. The toaster worked, so two slices of toast were shovelled into her mouth to try and sober her a little before sleep. Her lips glistened from the butter and she ate with her eyes closed.

‘Shall we watch Bangs and Fangs?’ Nesta asked as she tried to throw an arm around his neck, but managed to collide with the wall instead.

‘Fangs and Bangs. You need to sleep. We can catch a Sunball game tomorrow, if you like. I’m not working.’

‘I don’t know what that is.’

‘You’re in for a treat then.’ He unlocked the door and pushed it open. ‘In you go.’

Hunt made a noise at the back of his throat. Nesta had barely even stepped into the room before she whipped her dress off over her head, tossed it on the bed, then staggered towards the bathroom. Half-way there, she bent over – glorious ass on full display in a lacy green thong – to take off one shoe which she threw across the room then stumbled the final distance.

This was going to be a long night.

#hunt x nesta #hutn athalar #ruhn danaan #tristan flynn #nesta archeron #sathia flynn #declan emmett

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elaenya · 8 months

Text

127

Ascended Astarion x gn reader.

Just an angst drabble of a scenario i’ve imagined lately. Astarion is described as rather abusive.

TW:Abuse, isolation, depressive thoughts, suicide.

127 years, one week and four days. You had counted every single day since your freedom had been taken from you.

This wasn’t what you expected, and if you had known that this life was ahead of you, you wouldn’t have even considered helping him take the power that now seemed to crush your very being.

But he had been so compelling, so convincing. He had your strings wrapped around his fingers and played you like a puppeteer.

It wasn’t always this bad, though. For the first 30 years he had given you everything that he’d promised. You danced, travelled, stretched your wings and soul in every corner of the world and came back to the home you’d settled in together. He threw you parties, brought you the finest wine, and held you as the heat of the morning sun escaped through your windows and settled upon your cold skin.

Then he became possessive, paranoid. He accused you of things you never did, of trying to leave- so he made sure that you never could again. It was funny how that worked, a vampire spawn tied to its master. Just his words forbidding your leave left a burning power through your veins. If you ever tried to even as much as stretch your arms out through the window, the agony that soared across your bones and limbs would leave you weakened for days.

Sometimes you wondered how your friends were doing, though you weren’t sure if you could really remember just who they were. You knew their names, their voices that echoed through your dreams, and that you longed for the absent reality where they burst through the door to rescue you from your prison. Was Jaheira still as warm and strict, and did Wyll still love to dance?

Were they still alive? Any of them..

It wasn’t a pleasant thought, to think that you were all that alone in the world.

In some ways you almost wished your cell had been in a cold underground prison, not in the mansion that reminded you everyday of what you used to have. Not the bed you used to lay in, not the halls he used to chase you down. Just a stone wall and a cold bed.

Anger, fear, sadness- it all rushed down on you like lightning. It stole the air from your lungs.

The realisation that the realities you imagined weren’t real and never would be crushed your entire soul until only strained breaths were left. You weren’t going to see Karlach break down your door, or Shadowheart embrace you tightly. No, all you had was the stupidly detailed wallpaper and a ceiling which didn’t turn any less white and plain each day that passed.

You swung your body up, grabbing on to the first thing your hand got contact with and threw it across the room. A vase. It landed on the wooden table on the far right of your room, crashing into small pieces on the floor.

It wasn’t enough.

You grabbed a hold of the thin wooden post of your bed, tugging on it until broke off and you could throw it on the floor. There it fell into pieces, sharp and ragged wooden pieces.

Perhaps it was desperation, or pure rage, but for a moment you saw the sharpest wooden piece as something else. A stake.

Your hands fumbled as you fell down on your knees, tears staining the carpet below you. There weren’t many thoughts as you moved, just a scream of despair as you grabbed on to the piece and plunged it into your chest.

It burned and ripped through your body with a pain far worse than anything you’d felt before. It strangled you, engulfed you, and yet there was also a sense of relief.

Arms wrapped around you, trying to tug yours away from your body. Muffled shouting surrounded and echoed against you.

The two of you both got to feel something you hadn’t felt in very long.

Freedom, and pain.

#astarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader

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theknightmarket · 6 months

Note

I still think about Chase Me a lot and it.

Hmgh. 🙏

Not a lot of Murdock content that goes into his potential motives.

"You're a special case."

In which Murdock's cat and mouse chase comes to an end. TW: cursing, mention of murder Pages: 16 - Words: 6,500

[Requests: OPEN]

They got him.

They’d trapped him in a corner and wrapped the cuffs around his wrists. He was sitting in a cell, chained to the desk, waiting to be interrogated.

If they hadn’t called you, you would have forced your way into the police department anyway, regulations be damned. But they were smart, or maybe they just remembered the last time you were kept from the end of your case – either way, you had been writing up a very particular, very private report when your phone began to ring. You nearly didn’t answer it, too determined to finish off the last paragraph of the page before someone could interrupt, but it buzzed once, twice, thrice, and then you grabbed the thing and pressed the call button. Your mouth hung open at the half-way point of a cursing out when the officer who called you spurted out the very words that kept ringing through your head like a church bell.

They got him.

They had captured the Serotonin Serial Killer, and he was waiting in interrogation room C to be questioned by a detective. You made the forty-five-minute drive into twenty, flashed your badge at the receptionist, and didn’t say a word to anyone as you dashed through the hallways of the bustling building. Officers pressed themselves against the wall to avoid being barreled into, knowing you were on the warpath just from the look on your face. Though, it was no secret where you were headed. Your little stint with the man of the hour was kept between the two of you, but people had picked up on your sudden determination to solve the cases. When you worked sixteen-hour shifts, whispers took your place in leaving your office building and returning to your apartment. Rumors spread, some nice, some rude, all patents of the news agency; apparently one of his victims was your sister or uncle or second cousin thrice removed, because it gave you a motive and you were obviously the most important in the case to grant one. Never mind the guy slitting the public’s throats, the detective who was doing their job had to have a personal reason.

But your gripes with the press and other detectives were nothing you were focused on; distantly, you heard the taps of your shoes against the clean tiles towards the room, the times new-roman C blazing against the white wallpaper outside of a locked door.

You opened it without a second thought.

“It’s you.”

“You sound surprised, sweetheart.”

Murdock sat there, as you expected, chained, as you expected, grinning from ear to ear, as you expected. You imagined he was the first to be smiling so wide in the cold steel of a police chair, bound to the table in front of him. He was still adorned in his usual outfit, a red turtleneck and black trench coat, with blood splatters barely noticeable even in the scrutinous glaring of energy-efficient lights. The only thing that put you ill at ease was the crack in his sunglasses. It brewed a pit in the bottom of your stomach as your thoughts fled to assumptions that only helped to deepen it.

But you didn’t verbalize your suspicions that someone had put a hand on the man before you, the only indication that it crossed your mind being the heightening of your shoulders and an overtaking scowl. Instead, you simply locked the door behind you and dropped into the chair across from him. “You got caught,” you stated bluntly, his eyes following your descent, and it felt wrong to be able to see part of his iris.

“I did,” Murdock admitted. “Well done, you cuffed me.”

“No, I didn’t.”

You couldn’t keep the venom out of your tone, but you didn’t entirely want to. What you wanted to do was find the officer who caught him, ask them how they did it, and then find out exactly how his glasses got shattered so you could repay the favor. You assumed the plan came from your innate distaste of the police force and the rest of the detectives – you relied on the idea so that the thought could pass your mind without worry for the real sentiment behind it. And it almost did.

Murdock, helpfully, brought it back. “Jealous that you’re not the only detective in my life?”

“And if I am?”

“I’d appreciate it.” Damn his charming smile. He leaned forward in his seat, balancing his head on one of his hands, and flashed his grin at you like some kind of reward. It made you tense up, aided by the chill of the metal chair but by no means outweighed by it. You didn’t like this. The uncertainty of your emotions. In your last encounter, you were so certain of your anger towards him and his constant evading of capture, and yet there you were, with the man himself in front of you and definitely captured, fighting a losing battle against your own mind to convince yourself you weren’t swayed by him.

“Good thing I’m not, then.” You ignored the spark in Murdock’s eyes that hinted at his doubt. “How’d you get caught?”

“I killed somebody.” You almost laughed. It wasn’t as though he would be in the same room as you for shoplifting given his track record, but you let him continue without interruption, “Jemimah Pims. Fraud. I got spotted going into her office by a receptionist.”

You knew the name. Pims was big in public service chains that weren’t fast-food; she’d always hated the things, so she pulled a complete 180 and threw herself into high-class wine bars and five-star restaurants. Go figure, she didn’t start those businesses with legal money in her pocket, and that was where Murdock came in. The issue was that you didn’t believe that was his place. You’d seen him take revenge for affairs, prejudiced, miscarriages of justice – not money laundering. And getting a witness?

He must have misinterpreted your skeptical expression, because he followed himself up with, “She’s perfectly fine. Probably clearing up a couple of meetings that are going to go unattended.”

That didn’t help quell your suspicions. Of course, the receptionist was indeed alive, she had been the one to report him, after all, but that wasn’t the part you doubted.

“Let me rephrase that; why’d you get caught?”

You hit the nail on the head. The missing shard of his glasses was enough for you to see his iris, and that was enough for you to see his true feelings. That must have been why he kept them on so much, but they weren’t helping him now. Any excuse he might have made was wiped off the drawing board, and he knew that, too.

Almost reluctantly, he answered, “You’ve been awfully busy lately.”

“You can’t just kill someone because you want attention.” You interrupted a useless continuation that he didn’t even get to start. Of course, you had been busy in recent weeks, but that meant you had enough on your plate already without him piling it sky high.

A few days after your interaction on the roof of the theater, you were handed a case file from the higher-ups. Manila folder, top secret stamp, the whole cliché that made you want to bash your head into your desk. Your actual desk, mind you, the one that had been slightly bloodied by James Pratt. Everything was cleared up relatively fast, the funeral was scheduled for two months’ time, and you were back to work like it had never happened, like there was never a body of a friend draining into the floorboards. That folder, though, pushed it further back into the recesses of your mind; it was a political assassination attempt that you were shocked it landed on your task list. However, it was definitely there, and it was definitely high up on the list, so much so that you barely had time for yourself, let alone the serial killer watching you from another office building’s fourth floor. You supposed that Murdock reached his boiling point quicker than you.

One of your hands leapt to the bridge of your nose while the other ran through your hair. This job was pure stress without a serial killer giving you bodies because he wanted you to look at him.

“It worked, didn’t it?”

He stretched out his hands in an attempt at a shrug, but the cuffs limited how far his dramatics could go. To compensate, he brought his ankles up to cross them over the table. You could already feel the headache brewing, and the incompetence of the cops around you was certainly not helping. Hadn’t they read a single guidebook or, hell, watched a crime movie? It didn’t have to be one of the good ones, either, for them to figure it out that the criminal needed to be chained by the arms and legs to the table. You were so, so close to wringing someone’s neck – whether that was Murdock or the incompetent police. Really, anyone within a twenty-foot radius was at risk.

But you couldn’t, no matter how much your hands itched at the thought. Instead, you took a long, deep breath, in and out and in and out. A pitiful chuckle bubbled up in your throat. “Jealous that you’re not the only serial killer in my life?” you asked, somewhere between sarcastic and genuine.

“Yes.”

Too bad.

“So, what now?” you asked, to which you only got a raised eyebrow in response. “You’re in a police station, Serotonin.” His pout became more noticeable. “How do you plan to get out of this one?”

“Who says I plan to get out of it?”

“You wouldn’t sacrifice your entire career to get some one-on-one time with me. You’re not stupid.”

There was a glint of pride peeking out from the edge of the sunglasses. The rest reflected back onto him, but it was enough for you to see, notice, and feel the rush of blood to your cheeks and ears. Your moral compass told you it was wrong, behind wrong, to be happy with his silent praise, but that thing was long since broken. You wouldn’t trust it to tell you the ethics of kicking a child into the road to stop a wayward fruit cart.

“Hmm, well, as much as I’d like to, you’re right; I can’t just abandon it all for one person, no matter how gorgeous they are.” You had half a mind to find an ice bucket to dunk yourself in. If only to yourself, you would admit you didn’t get complimented often – on your work or otherwise. It wasn’t for a lack of anything, but the general verdict wherever you went was to never initiate conversation unless someone didn’t like the look of their head on their shoulders. It happened often in the detective department, and that was where you spent the majority of your time – the rest was in your apartment, alone and whiling away hours until you got back to work.

But you weren’t allowed to dwell on that depressing thought for much long, before Murdock started talking again, leaning as far back into his chair as the cuffs let him go. “There are moles in the police, sweetheart,” he teased, “you said it yourself. Not one person here can’t be bought or blackmailed. The boys standing outside this two-way mirror, for example.” He turned to smile in the direction of that very mirror. You couldn’t see the officers outside, obviously, but you could imagine them sweating through their blue jackets, not only because they were caught but because Murdock had that look. The one that told whoever he was staring at that this would be their last day, like making eye contact with the grim reaper. Except instead of a bleached skull and hollow pits, he was a beautiful masterpiece come to coax you into the ‘sweet embrace of death’, as the saying went.

“I can taste the corruption from here. It didn’t take long to find out about the affairs and gambling.”

“I thought your whole thing was indiscriminatory vigilante justice. Moles don’t count?”

Vividly, the body of Pratt sprang to your mind. Still warm on the floor of your office. Head turned so that his check was mashed into against the grain. Eyes glassy like a frosted window.

Even though his gaze returned to you, you felt his words pierce the air as knives thrown to the mirror. “Oh, they do. I’ll kill them when I’m done here.”

Murdock was happy with himself. Proud of his work that rewarded him with this scene – two police officers paling from behind a wall, a detective sitting across him wearing a blush and a scowl, and himself haphazardly chained to the table. He wouldn’t have traded it for anything else. He sometimes, on the days when things were, the days when he was positioning old bodies or stalking new ones, when he had time to himself, he wondered what it the outcome would have been had it not been you assigned to his case. He couldn’t imagine the boredom; he didn’t give a damn about the press or the public, whether they were scared of him or in awe. When he first started this whole thing, he hadn’t even cared about the people chasing him, and, mostly, he still didn’t. But then there was you. A grizzled detective with a chip on their shoulder and enough experience with the law to sate thirty juniors. Murdock loved his job, but you made it that little bit more interesting.

Only, he could have done without your next question.

“Do I count?”

His head shifted to stare directly at you, his shattered focus pulled into one place, your expression of curiosity, doubt, a tinge of daring.

You continued, that tell-me-I’m-wrong look overtaking the rest of the emotions, “I let you get away with de Gaille and Lochlin. Doesn’t that make me a killer by association?”

Technically, he supposed it did. After all, he’d killed people for less. However, that wasn’t meant to be your ending. You weren’t supposed to be a pig on a hook in the butcher’s backroom.

“You’re a special case, love.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to help me get out.”

Your immediate thought was to resist. Mouth open to tell him a stern no and legs ready to storm from the room, you were sure Murdock saw, but he didn’t act. He just watched as your shoulders heightened and your grimace deepened. He just watched as you stayed seated, though the discomfort showed.

“Your boys can’t do that?” you asked.

He shook his head. “They’re at the window because two officers have to be. They won’t go near me with a ten-foot pole, or without a foot of concrete between us.” A light chuckle bled into his words, accompanied by the flash of an eye and the corner of his lip perking up. “You, though, have been much, much closer. And you have nothing for me to play on, except for a little bit of affection.”

“Affection, is that what it is?” the scoff escaped you before you processed his words, and it was just as well. You didn’t want a serial killer to know he was – on the most basic level and not even that much and only if you wanted to actually define it and you certainly didn’t – correct. You did feel something for the man sitting before you, leaning casually back in the steel chair of the interrogation room, but you wouldn’t admit it aloud.

“Romantic, sexual, aesthetic, whatever your attraction is. It stops you from letting me fry, as you like to put it.”

“It stops me from letting you die, but that’s where it ends. Locking you up, I’m fine with that.” You were getting faster, pitifully desperate to prove to him, to yourself, to the two officers standing outside that you were not tied to him in any way. You had no reservations about keeping him behind bars. Despite that, it wasn’t the thought at the forefront of your mind – pride and place belonged to the reassurance that it wasn’t that simple. For one second, you assumed that you did enjoy his company and looking at him and his charismatic whisperings that set something aflame in your heart. You still couldn’t abandon everything to run after this maniac. You couldn’t. You couldn’t.

“Are you?”

Were you?

A horrible feeling of dread washed over you, thrown to-and-fro in the rush of the river Styx, your lungs filled with water, and you struggled to keep afloat. It wasn’t that simple. It couldn’t be. There were so many other factors at play. Your life, his life, his job, shit, your job. You were a detective sent to wrap the handcuffs around Murdock’s wrists.

As if he sensed your crumbling façade of calm, he pushed, “You’ll have to pick a side, of course.” You hated to admit it, but the choice would be easy, if you could convince yourself to acknowledge that you did have a choice. Left or right. You didn’t have to consider the nuance of it all, no matter how much you wanted to. The answer your heart made for you blazed in your mind, but trails of fog tried to cover it with questions and consequences.

“Sitting on the fence isn’t an option.” His tone was strangely gentle, like coaxing an injured animal from their hiding place. “If you let me out or if you lug me to a cell yourself, I’ll know where you stand. Hell, I’ll even give you a week to change your mind. But you can’t just leave and wash your hands of it all.”

Responsibility. That was the thing at the crux of his decisions. Who lived and who died all depended on responsibility. The corrupt decided their own sentences when they played both sides off against each other. Police and aristocracy, politicians and the church. The hypocrites were the ones with their necks on the block, and Murdock wielded the axe. He hoped that you would see that, and maybe, if you wanted to, find a handle for yourself.

The distance between the two of you seemed to close. The desk turned to mist. The walls around you felt as though they’d constricted without you noticing.

“Think about it, love.” You didn’t need to think, that was the worst part. “You can go back to your boring job where you aren’t respected or cared about, and you can file reports about a teenager’s accidental arson while the bigger cases are picked off by fat cats who just want the reputation and money.” You didn’t need to be convinced. “Or you can come with me and use justice how it should be used. How you want to use it.”

Heart thundering in your chest so loud you thought it might burst – but then you wouldn’t have to make a decision so maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad – the rest of your body stayed paralyzed with fear. Not of Murdock, of course not, but of the fact that you wanted to go with him. In a split second, you’d made your choice, and you didn’t need his fancy words to encourage it. You weren’t some injured animal, you were a detective who had lost faith in the system, leaving only a struggle with your morals and upbringing to contest with, two things that were fading fast from your mind.

Meanwhile, Murdock struggled with the twitch of his hand that compelled him to comfort you. He had never been a sympathetic person – most murderers weren’t – but he didn’t like this look on you. At least, he liked it much less than the vivid rage you so often sported, particularly when it was for him. This was a distressed look that he didn’t mean to cause. Give him the fireworks and the explosions and the sparks, not the earthquakes that rocked the very place he stood and threatened to knock him off his feet entirely. Deep in his chest, he wanted to exchange that expression for anything else, but he found him options vastly limited by the cuffs. His mouth dropped open, seconds away from offering kind words, but they had done enough.

Luckily, that enough was in the direction that he wanted.

You didn’t speak as you got up from your chair and walked to the door. You lifted your hand but switched courses quickly, aiming not for the handle but for the ring of keys hanging on the wall next to it. One of them would unlock the handcuffs. One of them would set Murdock free and damn you to a life of crime in one movement. You had witnesses, after all, and your own conscience wouldn’t let you be a traitor to either side.

When you were close enough, he reached out to you. A hand caressed down your arm as far as the metal would let him go. His contact sparked against your skin while the clang of the cuffs hitting the table rang out in the room like a church bell. When he was free, he did the most unexpected thing you would ever believe he chose to do.

Murdock wrapped an arm around your waist and shifted the hand that was on your arm around your shoulder. He was surprisingly cozy, like a warm-blooded animal, in the din of the interrogation room. As you stood frozen, half from his action and half from the reality of your own setting in, he tightened his grip and dipped his head into the crook of your neck.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he mumbled, words muted by his closeness to you, but you didn’t mind. You didn’t mind one bit. In fact, slowly, you drew your arms around him, too.

“When we get home, we’re talking about this.”

He pulled back at that, barely enough for you to properly hear his question of, “Home?”

It went unanswered, but he had already gotten a sentence out of you, and that was much more than he could had ever expected. You propped your hands against his chest to subtly move him further from you, eyes cast down and expression downcast.

“Stay here.”

He followed your order easily, considering it was just him standing in the room while you left into the hallway. Both of you knew it would take just one turn of the key to lock him inside, a couple of steps to tell someone that he needed to be locked up as soon as possible, a quick course of action that would relieve you of all your guilt. Murdock wouldn’t hold you to it, because you still chose a side. It just wouldn’t be the one he wanted.

When you returned with a hat and jacket – and, unbeknownst to him, the image of those two officers paralyzed with fear seared into your mind’s eye – he felt his shoulders relax and a pleasant smile take over his lips. Pleasant wasn’t a word often used to describe anything to do with Murdock, but you had a strange way of breaking the norms, and he didn’t mind it one bit. He even let you manipulate his arms like a doll into the flimsy material before you dropped the cap onto his head. It dipped over his forehead slightly, so you adjusted it until you could just see his eyes out of the shadow.

“You don’t say a word until we’re out of this building and into my car,” you ordered, and Murdock thought it best to acquiesce. It was the least he could do after this whole situation that he put you in.

Briefly, he nodded. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He had.

But the next course of action was simple; you left the keys on the hook as you opened the door, unceremoniously shoved Murdock by the shoulder into the hallway, and lead him into the entrance. You had never been more appreciative of the other officers’ reactions to you. Seeing them jump out of your direct path like they’d been set on fire was good for you, if not practically – given you were escorting a serial killer out of the precinct – then emotionally. Nobody tried to look at the man in step by your side, mostly because they were too afraid to cast their gaze anywhere near you. Before, you might have felt disappointed at the reaction, but, if Murdock was right, they were no better than you.

You really hoped he was right.

You made it to your car promptly, and he was soon to round the hood to get into the passenger seat while you swung the driver’s door open. You almost drove off without looking in your back seat, your hand still on the keys in your ignition when you noticed the pile of equipment in the middle of the bench. Duct-tape, zip-ties and lo-and-behold, your original gun. It was as clean as the day Murdock had taken it from you.

Speaking of – you turned to look at the man next to you, who wore the most sheepish expression you would have imagined fit on him.

“Seriously?” you asked.

“I wanted to be prepared in case you put up a fight.”

“You were going to kidnap me?”

“Only for a day or two.” Your eyes narrowed, and he took that as a sign to rush to his own defense. “Just long enough for you to come around. I would never kill you.”

How comforting. It was weird that the thought was half-genuine; you were indeed glad that he had never planned on ending your life.

Sarcastic or not, you muttered a, “thanks,” as you pulled out from your parking space and started the journey home.

Murdock was a surprisingly quiet travelling companion. You expected him to be chatting your ear off about his latest kills, their crimes, their lives, their deaths, etcetera, etcetera. The only thing noise he made, though, was his humming along to the radio’s soft rock. Some instrumental had him tapping his fingers along the window’s edge in its rhythm. If you hadn’t been driving away from a police interrogation, it might have been sweet. And even if you were…

But the magic didn’t last forever. You pulled into your apartment’s parking lot, the three scuffed paint lines amongst those alleyway dumpsters and loose beer cans constituting for one, and you turned off the engine. You didn’t live in a nice part of town, you knew that, and you weren’t ashamed. Sure, you spent most of your time in your office, but that wasn’t because you were embarrassed to live in the building. It was just easier for you, to the point that your apartment was more of a second home, like the grandparents’ that you used to spend every second Wednesday at.

You locked your car door when you were out, then made your way to Murdock’s side.

“This is your place?” he asked, shutting his own door behind him.

“What, you’ve never seen it before?”

“I steered clear of your intimate life.”

The image of the equipment that was still in your backseat had you raising an eyebrow. “Oh, that’s where you draw the line?”

“I didn’t want to rush it.” You didn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes, nor did you stop yourself from grabbing Murdock’s hand and tugging him towards the front of the building. From the outside, it looked like your standard run-down-rat-dream, but you’d taken the liberty of sprucing up your own rooms. It lessened the fear in your heart about showing your new partner – in crime.

Said man shot a look down to your hands. “No, I much prefer you doing this out of your own volition.”

The lobby of your building served its purpose. It had a reception table, a door to the breaker box and other things up-keep, and a staircase that led to the rest of the floors. There was only one other door on this level, which was for the owner’s place, but he was either hardly ever there or rotting on his couch, based on how little you saw of him. Another plus was that there were no cameras, but that was only a positive for right now. You would certainly be more worried about smuggling in a murderer had there been sufficient security measures.

So, with the ease of this mission, you took Murdock up to your apartment relatively easily. The other occupants of the building stayed put in their rooms as you went up the steps, before you stopped on the fifth floor. It took a second for you to fish your keys out of your pocket, but, when you had and you’d twisted them into the lock, Murdock let out a little whistle.

You were proud of the work you’d done to fix the place up. When you had first bought it, it was more of a trash dump than a living space – you hadn’t made it three steps without tripping on a bunch of tied up newspapers, which got you into the immediate mindset for clearing it up. The cleaning was over by the first day, the repairs by the third, and the refurbishment by the end of the week. All on your dime, mind you, but you were fine with that. It just meant that if and when you moved out, you would take everything with you.

Now, it was made into an actual home with crimson wallpaper, a plush couch, a bookcase in the corner and, the thing that Murdock took most notice of, an empty fish tank.

You closed the door behind Murdock as he sashayed to the centre of your front room.

“I didn’t see you as a fish owner,” he commented.

“I’m not.” You hung your jacket on the rack beside you. “Never spent enough time here to look after them.”

It was a sad tale you never liked to tell. Three betta fish and two weeks at the office was the most you let slip when people asked.

But, instead of asking, Murdock flopped back onto the cushions behind him and tucked his hands underneath his head. “Cozy.”

You were able to see his closed eyes when you sat on the coffee table. He looked peaceful, if you could ever call him peaceful. For a moment, you thought he might have checked out early and fell asleep.

His voice nearly startled you, but it only made you squint your eyes and cross your arms on your knees. “You wanted to talk,” he prompted.

“What’s the arrangement now?”

“I assume this is a one-bedroom and I don’t like sleeping on the couch.” He opened his eyes only to wink with the one you could see between the cracks of the glass.

You admonished him firmly. “Murdock.” For you, this was a turning point in your entire life. You didn’t believe in that second chance after death – not that you imagined you would get a good one after this – so you needed to make this count.

“There we go,” he whispered, a smug tone made by you finally saying his real name aloud.

As much as you’d like to continue his banter, easier now that you could actually talk to him in the privacy of your own home, you needed to be secure in your thought process. “Am I quitting my job?”

“Yes.” Blunt, but effective. That was better for you. “But you still have a week to mull it over. Not that I think you’ve made the wrong choice—” His hand jumped back to where it had once been in yours, “—You can do more work out here than you ever could as a detective.”

Whether that was true or not, you both believed it. Murdock had since his first kill, and you were steadily getting further and further from the fence.

“So, I’m joining you.”

“If you feel so inclined.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Whatever you like.”

“You’re being vague.”

“Sweetheart, this is your life.” As if to punctuate his point, he brought you closer by your hand. Your heart thudded in your chest while the memories from your first one-on-one flooded back. “You can come out stalking with me or go off on your own.”

Deep breath in, deep breath out. He was right. You assured yourself that, yes, this was your life. And you’d chosen to spend it taking the law into your own hands.

Now, your questions were for the simple act of asking questions. You needed time to process it, and listening to Murdock talk was surprisingly helpful. “Then why pull me off the force?”

“I saw what they were doing with you. You told me. I certainly won’t take credit for your work, and you’re not restrained by paperwork or legalities. I just wanted to open you up to more effective opportunities.” He leaned closer, almost out of his seat. “And, as much as I’ve loved our game of cat and mouse, it’s hard to carry on a relationship when you run the risk of shooting me anytime we meet. Although, I do love the danger. Complicated, isn’t it?”

“Not really.”

When you’d first become a detective, you would have never imagined that your career would end like this. Shot in the line of duty, punched a higher up, retired at a nice, old age to a farm in the countryside. Those were the scenarios you’d thought up all those years ago. And yet, you liked this outcome. It filled you with some kind of excitement when you thought about finally dealing with the other detectives you’d seen. And Murdock, oh, Murdock, he was your favorite part.

That was why you didn’t need any encouragement to dive forward and connect your lips with his. He was immediately receptive to the kiss, using his hand to pull you towards him. All the stress of joining a murderer melted away with the contact. Sparks danced along your skin where he drew his other hand from your arm to your shoulder to your neck. Undoubtably, you were touch-starved, you’d known that for a while, and that made the fire grow quicker than you thought it would. The dance you’d been doing with each other for months was nothing in comparison to the dance of your lips. It was less infuriating for you, and more prideful for Murdock. The little sounds that escaped your mouth as you shifted to get more comfortable gave him a boost to his ego that he really didn’t need. Still, he smiled while you pushed deeper.

This was his prize. You would never admit it, but Murdock knew that you knew that he won. He wasn’t sitting pretty in a cell, he was sitting pretty on your couch, with a view, not of iron bars, but of a gorgeous detective who had practically pledged their life to him. He leaned back just an inch to breath, letting you do the same, in order to get a good look at you.

The breath was worth nothing when you knocked it out of him, anyway. Disheveled was a good look on you.

“I’ve made my choice,” you muttered, “and I don’t intend on going back on it now.” That statement made his heart quicken, more than fleeing any crime scene could ever cause.

His curiosity was piqued when you straightened your back and looked towards the bookcase.

You got to your feet as you said, “Oh, that means I can show you something.”

Murdock watched you rush to where you were looking. You grazed a hand across the dusty surface, eyes skipping through the spines to find the thing you were searching for. When you turned around again, Murdock saw not a book, as he would have guessed, but a manilla folder.

After your rooftop meeting, you had done some research. You used to tell yourself it was to keep tabs on the other detectives, so that you could possibly guess who Murdock would go after first. Now, you admitted that it was just to dig up some dirt.

You fell back next to Murdock on the couch, bringing a foot onto the coffee table. The folder was tossed open in your hands by the weight of the papers inside, and there were a lot of them, each separated with a tab. One name, one last name, was written per tab.

It didn’t take long for him to figure out what this was.

“Oh, I love you,” he sighed as he flipped through some of the documents. It was a dream come true for him. The background check was the most boring part of the process, he much preferred the chase. With you, he had gotten all of his information from talking to you, and he only stayed entertained because it was you. In your hands was the golden ticket to avoid all of that messy business.

Murdock was so happy that you chased him.

“I love you, too,” you replied, bringing a hand up to grab at his jawline. If it were any other moment, he might have teased you, but he was too busy falling in love with you, as if the cat and mouse schtick hadn’t been enough for him already. He was looking forward to getting your claws back.

“So,” he whispered into the minimal gap between you, “Pierce or Vanderbilt first?”

You dropped your head, hitting his lips with a light laugh. It was the first time that you wondered what your life had become in a grateful sense.

[I don't actually think that this was a request, but I also think of Murdock way too much to only have one fic about him. Hence... you get this. I hope you enjoyed <3!]

#theknightmarket #fanfiction #markiplier egos #writing #markiplier egos x reader #markiplier #one shots #x reader #murdock x reader #murdock #iswm #iswm murdock #also guess who just remembered they have an inbox #detective x criminal

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pascaloverx · 9 months

Text

Rewrite The Stars

Chapter Five

Summary: One photo changes your whole life, when you accidentally bump into a celebrity and the world starts to believe that you are a couple.

chapter four chapter six

"I'll have the chocolate truffle pie with whipped cream." You respond to the waiter who is taking your dessert order.

"I'll have the same as her, but without the cream." Pedro responds by closing the menu and handing it to the waiter.

"I think we have to take pictures of each other. Most of of couples do this and I can set it as my cell phone wallpaper. " You comment while taking a sip of the wine Pedro ordered.

"Any pose for a photo you want to suggest?" Pedro asks, seeming to agree with your idea.

"Just look at me, like you think I'm one of the most beautiful women you've ever seen." You suggest taking your cell phone and watching from the corner of your eye, Pedro takes his cell phone out of his pocket.

"I truly think you are one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen." He speaks subtly as if this sentence won't make an impact on you.

"That's what I call getting into character, Mr. Pascal." You say getting ready to take photos of your fake boyfriend. Unfortunately, you can't help but feel embarrassed because you think this is the level of flirting you're going to hear.

"Thanks for the compliment but it wasn't a character line. That was my honest opinion." And then you look at him, like someone who doesn't believe what he's saying but doesn't know how to react even if he be sincere. He then takes your photo while you look at him.

"The photo was supposed to be cute, now I'm going to look like a mess on your screen." You say, taking a careless photo of Pedro in return for him taking one of you.

"I see you're the vindictive type, should I be worried?" He asks softly, seeming to make fun of the situation. You look at him smiling, trying to show that you are satisfied with your action.

"If you don't get up to anything, you don't have to fear anything. In fact the photo turned out better than I thought." You say showing the result of the photo you took of Pedro. It was very natural beautiful. It almost looks like a real boyfriend with the handsome appearance.

"I would like you to explain in detail how you imagined this photo would turn out. Remember that's your boyfriend's face you're talking about." After hearing Pedro saying this, you immediately laugh. Before you react, the waiter brings the desserts. You and Pedro then begin to delicately eat your respective desserts.

"I used to ask the head chef here to make this dessert for me on my birthdays. In total I spent about four birthdays working here. It always seemed magical when I ate it this dessert. I guess I'll have to find another birthday tradition now." You say as you enjoy every piece of your chocolate pie.

"You seem to really like that pie. There's some cream in your mouth. Let me take it out." He says, passing his fingers under my lips and in reflex, I end up licking his fingers. I mean almost licking his fingers.

"I'm so sorry, that was reflexes being quicker than reasoning. I swear I didn't mean to..." You say, apologizing for the light lick. How embarrassing.

"Don't apologize. But it's interesting the types of reflexes you have. Hopefully this will give a sexier tone to our date." He says laughing at your face. He's barely started dating you and he no longer takes you seriously.

"I'm glad you're having fun. But after this I'm ready to go home. If you don't object." You don't know how to continue this dinner after what you did.

"Dear, if you want to go. We will. But there's no need to be embarrassed." Pedro kisses his cheek as he gets up to pull out your chair. He then surprises you by placing a light kiss on your neck just in time for a paparazzi to take a photo of the moment.

"How did you know the paparazzi was going to take this photo?" You ask quietly, avoiding that anyone except for Pedro could hear you.

"I didn't know. Now come on, I have to take you home." He speaks naturally, giving you a peck on your lips. Without any reaction, you spend a few seconds standing still, contemplating the man you are pretending to date. Your heart races as you realize that your fake boyfriend has unimaginable effects on you.

tag: @wanniiieeee , @hungrhay and @leilanixx

#pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal masterlist #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #fake dating #unrequited love #reader insert

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rowaelinsdaughter · 10 months

Text

𝖒𝖞 𝖌𝖎𝖗𝖑 (𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗)

i wish manon was my girlfriend :"(

WARNINGS: FLUFF JUST FLUFF, modern AU!

the dawn sun sneaks through the curtains causing you to wake up from one of the deepest dreams you've had in weeks. you grunt a little and turn to continue sleeping next to the body that is also sleeping soundly next to you. unable to fall asleep, you open your eyes and look at your girlfriend's face.beautiful is what you always think every time you look at her, her snow white hair creating a blanket on the pillow. as carefully as possible, you brush his hair away from her face and caress her cheeks with your fingertips.

manon stirs a little and continues sleeping, oblivious to the outside world of dreams and your caresses. you get up and put on one of her t-shirts that reach down your thighs since she is so tall. carefully, you close the door and head to the kitchen to make coffee. you leave the coffee maker on to start brewing and open the kitchen and living room windows, letting in the fresh morning air. you lean on the balcony railing and breathe in the aroma of freshly cut grass and freshly baked cakes. of the pastry shop in front of the house... and a memory appears in your memory.

4 years ago, you were working in that same bakery as a waitress to save money to pay for college. manon was a regular customer and you were always fascinated by her enigmatic and powerful aura. you almost always tried to take her orders since that was the only way you could talk to her even for a few seconds and even though you knew her order by heart, you always asked her what she wanted to hear her voice.

but what you didn't know was that manon went to that cafeteria even if it caught her far from her house to see you. and one day when she left the money on the table for you, you saw a note folded on top of the money.[phone number] call me.that night you wrote to her and that's where it all started.

you and her bought the apartment, your first apartment. located on the same street where you met, near the university where you were studying and close to manon's work, the apartment was perfect, and it was more perfect when little by little you created memories in it.

arms pull you out of your reverie and manon rests her head on top of yours. "good morning baby"

manon growls, “you know i don't like it when you call me that.”

you laugh and turn in her arms to look at her, “that's why I'm telling you. you are normally grumpy but when you wake up you are worse”

she clicks her tongue, “that's what you get for leaving me alone in bed.”

“sorry for leaving you alone…baby”

manon lets go of you and goes to make two cups of coffee. laughing, you head into the kitchen after her. when you arrive you sit in one of the chairs and watch her prepare breakfast. a cup of coffee appears in front of you and the stove starts to work. when it's over, you start to eat, but you notice manon's gaze on you.

"what?"

“can't I look at my girlfriend?”

“of course you can look at me.”

"so?"

"i don't know"

manon tries to hide a smile and fails in the attempt. you rarely see manon smile like this. you wish you had your cell phone so you could take a photo of it and put it as your wallpaper. now you're the one staring at manon.

"what?" manon repeats

you get up from the chair and sit on manon's lap.

"i love you"

a blush appears on her cheeks and you start laughing at her for being so adorable. manon makes a show of trying to escape but deep down you know she loves it when you get like that.

if someone wrote a book about you, manon would be the black cat and you would be the golden retriever, but you wouldn't change her personality for anything in the world.

tags; @danikamariewrites @throneofsapphics @vanserrasswife @shadowdaddies @thehighladywrites

#sarah j maas #sjm books #fanfic #throne of glass #throne of glass imagine #throne of glass fanfiction #manon blackbeak #manon imagine #manon x reader #manon fanfic #manon fanfiction #tog fanfic #tog #tog x reader #fluff #manon fluff #aelin galythinius #rowan whitethorn #dorian havilliard

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palossssssand · 2 years

Text

A long-awaited update for my commission prices! All the info below is also included on my commission sheet images. BASE PRICING-Base sketch! Further rendering will be added on. Most standalone sketches will come with a flat shape or pattern background.

Headshot-$15

Half body-$30

Fullbody-$50

ADD-ONS-Any combination of add-ons can be done!

Clean Lineart +$10

Flat Color +$10

Cell Shading +$10

Complex shading +$30

Backgrounds-depends on complexity. Just ask!

FAKEMON DESIGNS-Price is per design, please have an idea or sketch for me to work with! Fully shaded render, concept work, and permission to use for your fakemon region with credit included.

-Simple/First stage-$50-$70 -Complex-$100-$120

GUIDELINES

Pricing is in USD and per character.

I may decline your request for any reason.

Art may not be used commercially or for profit. If you are interested in commercial work, just ask!

Feel free to use my art as icons, banners, wallpapers, etc. Please be sure to credit my work!

YES-ocs, fanart, ship art, furries/anthro, humanoids, gijinka design, body horror, bugs, monsters, mech/robot(will try my best)NSFW(you must be 18+ to request this. I have my own parameters for nsfw art)

NO-incest/explicit gore/certain characters from media(hazbin hotel, attack on titan, south park, etc)

Please have a visual character reference when commissioning me! If you would like a custom designed character or reference, please have a description or idea ready, and pricing will be according to complexity.

Sketch only commissions will not be sent wips. Commissions with more steps will be sent wips at every stage, with 3 revisions per stage allowed.

If you would like to use the commission artwork or any of my existing art as a tattoo, please ask! I will request an art use fee from $40 depending on the complexity.

Payment is upfront. I will not work on your commission until payment has been received. Commission will usually be done by 1-3 weeks, depending on how busy I am. Slots will open/close periodically and my commission status will always be in my bio. If you are interested, please DM me! My paypal email is [email protected].

Thanks!

#SORRY I HAD TO REMAKE THE POST I GOT THE BASE PRICING WRONG <3 #commissions #commission sheet #my art #fakemon #body horror #bugs #see what happened is that I made my base price sheet and saved a png #and then later updated the firealpaca file with new prices #and as I was saving all my sheets as pngs I thought 'oh my main sheet has a png already! cool'#anyways!

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ivyial · 6 months

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Reading one of your answers, I noticed that you wrote “Leon has a crush” and while I was playing the game, I also had such thoughts because a man cannot behave like that if he does not feel something. Can you please explain how you were convinced of this?

hi there!! i'm so very late to this ask i'm sorry :,)

so i'm gonna try and retrace the steps of how i realised that (from a year or so ago lolol). one thing you have to know about me before we begin is that i cannot recognise flirting for SHIT LMAOAOAO like genuinely. it is BAD. i am seriously socially impaired in that department.

when i played re4r last year, i had not played the og re4 (i still haven't, as a matter of fact). so i went into it relatively blind, with no opinion about leon/ashley (it did not seem like a big enough ship that people were ever giving their opinions on it, apart from the 'overtime' part in the og). i knew a bit about ashley, and how annoying a big chunk of the fandom found her in the og, and that was about it.

ashley flirting with leon in the game was somewhat obvious. the "i think you'd look pretty dashing" line was a big giveaway, although other than that, she doesn't actually make any big move on leon (sure, she offers him to become part of her security detail at the end, but yeah).

HOWEVER.

the dining hall scene happened - leon telling ashley "i'm not used to having such good company"???? that definitely made go 💡!!!

also, if you go back to chapter 9, after ashley's playable section, she finds leon again in the cage, and he says to her "can you make it down? i can catch you". i didn't find his words odd, but i found his tone extremely specific. if you go back and listen, it doesn't exactly sound like a matter-of-fact offer. it sounds like an incentive, but i wasn't so sure whether it was more for ashley's benefit or his own. he just sounds so bashful saying it and he's smiling. maybe that's just me, but i definitely found his tone suggestive in that scene. at the time i just shrugged it off as me misunderstanding tone (as it happens sometimes).

i originally was not predisposed to seeing them as a couple, since i'd never really seen the possibility of it being evoked in the modern RE fandom. i was more of a cleon girlie at the time too (i still am, but not as much nowadays). so i finished the game for the first time thinking "aw, leon and ashley had such a great dynamic, he's very supportive of her and kind, they're a great (platonic) fit". but then, you know, there was still the flirting initiated by ashley, the flirting (?) initiated by leon, and that unusual tone that he had in chapter 9.

so i didn't really see the bigger picture until i read the leshley/eagleone posts written by @sapphire-weapon (if you haven't checked her blog out yet, you have to, not just for her leon/ashley posts, but even for her general meta analyses which are absolutely brilliant). and then, i started putting it together, noticing the instances of leon flirting with ashley, some of which i'd missed, the structure of the story, etc.

and from there, well. you realise how well leon and ashley work together, even in a platonic setting, and you add their occasional flirting, as well as the DINING HALL SCENE??? which to me is a massive giveaway and is one of the things that convinced me the most apart from their literal interactions. room with red wallpaper, a statue of two snakes that could either be fighting or, well, fucking lmao (i also don't need to explain the phallic symbol there), the queen/king paintings, and the fact that this is one of the few rooms in this game where they are not interrupted by any enemies. it's a very private setting + "well, yeah, but i'm not used to having such good company".

leon's crush is also demonstrated through the way ashley pulls out a softer side of him.

you can see in chapter 13 (when he calls out for her from the other side of the cell - if you listen closely, it sounds like nick apostolides is reverting back to re2 leon's voice for that line).

there is also quite a bit of (sometimes unnecessary) physical contact between the two, which is almost always initiated by leon (it might even always be him). see: the way he holds on to her just a bit too long after catching her when she jumps out of the church window + the way they look at each other (chapter 5), right after escaping the ganados and joining luis in the villa (chapter 5), comforting ashley in the castle (chapter 9), and most importantly, checking on her after opening the cell and letting his fingers trail along her arms etc. (chapter 13) and (not physical contact but intended) the way he manages to break saddler's hold to reach for ashley when saddler touches her head on the altar (chapter 15). and i mean, he carries her bridal style multiple times (either catches her when she jumps or carries her like that on the way to the lab) (that in itself is also for the sake of practicality, but it adds to it).

taken separately, these events would probably not mean anything, but when you look at it all together, you realise that leon's feelings for ashley run deeper than just professionalism. i don't think he has to act like that - or at least, not if capcom just wanted them to be PURELY PLATONIC PURELY SIBLING CODED as one part of the fandom shouts all day long

this is a very long answer but yeah!! i hope this answers your question. btw, feel free to send me more leon/ashley asks!! i'd love to answer them :3

#leshley #eagleone #leon kennedy #ashley graham #leon x ashley #resident evil #resident evil 4 #re4 #resident evil 4 remake

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blackthewolf17 · 1 year

Text

──── ∗∙⋅:✯:⋅∙∗ ──── ⋙ ✨Welcome to the fourth edition of my commissions ✨ ──── ∗∙⋅:✯:⋅∙∗ ──── ⋙

L O A D I N G….. □□□□□0% ■□□□□20% ■■□□□40% ■■■□□60% ■■■■□80% ■■■■□90% ■■■■■100% ❚S T A R T❚

╔═════•°⛥°•═════╗ Detailed information ╚═════•°⛥°•═════╝

✟ Payments are made only by Paypal. ✟ Work begins on the piece after 24 hours of payment. From there the work takes 1 to 2 weeks (for large works 1 month), if you do not receive an update during the established time you can request a refund. ✟ All drawings that are ordered will have a folder created on Drive for storage for 4 years as a backup for the client in case the files are lost. Likewise, the link to the respective folder may be requested if the client loses the link in the same way. ✟ If a piece is requested for marketing, 40% more than the established price will be requested.

╔═════•°⛥°•═════╗ What is delivered? ╚═════•°⛥°•═════╝

All commissions (regardless of commission type) will be given the following: ✦ Psd file. (Editable) ✦ Sketch board (regardless of the type of commission, a board is created with conceptual drawings so that the client can choose one and work on it). ✦ An alternative version of the drawing. (Colors, lighting, textures, etc. are modified) ✦ A thank you card for your purchase.

✧ The "Painted" type commissions have variants for wallpaper (both cell phone and PC), as well as 2 alternative versions.

✧ If you are a frequent customer (you have placed 5 orders) you will be given a 15% coupon for your next order.

╔═════•°⛥°•═════╗ What can I draw? ╚═════•°⛥°•═════╝

✅I can draw: Mechas/Robots, Furry, NSFW (G0r3/ P0r_n0/ V01d), Complex armors and suits. ❌I don't draw NSFW Lolicon/Shotacon, real people without their consent, weird fetishes, hate art, political propaganda.

If you are interested or want more details, send a private message. ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

#my art #my artwrok #digital painting #commission #commisions open #art commisions

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tar-maitime · 3 months

Text

with their heart still intact

Rating: T Characters: Maedhros | Maitimo, Fingon } Findekano Additional: modern AU, character injury, recovery WC: 1k

For @russingonweek Day 6 - AU Prompt: Canon divergence and fix-its

There was no clock in the hospital waiting room, and Maedhros never wore a watch, and her phone battery was low enough that she’d forsworn checking it every other minute to see what time it was now. She’d been reduced to staring at the other people camped out here to try and distract herself from the thoughts that threatened to spiral. They’d told her Fingon was still alive when she got here, that they were “working on him”, but that was well over two hours ago, and she hadn’t heard anything since.

“Thalion?” a nurse called out, and the woman Maedhros had been watching, dark-haired and grim-faced with two small children in tow and a third clearly on the way, rose and walked stiffly where she was directed, holding her children’s hands tightly.

Then it was just Maedhros and a short, stocky bearded man and a willowy girl, near tears, left in the waiting room. She’d made calls to Fingon’s parents and siblings when she’d first arrived, but none of them had made it here yet - Fingolfin and Anaire had been at a political dinner across the state, Turgon was frantically trying to find childcare for his daughter and also Aredhel’s son whom he’d been watching, Aredhel herself was somewhere with no cell reception, and Argon was out of state at college.

Maedhros thanked anyone listening, fervently, that she’d been as close as she had. As bad as it was waiting here, she was sure she would’ve had gone spare if she’d been stuck somewhere else, unable to even do this much.

“Vanyaran?” somebody said, and she startled, scrambling to her feet.

“It’s Noldoran,” she told the nurse reflexively, “but Fingon Vanyaran is my husband. How is he? Is he going to be all right? Is he --”

The nurse gave her a sympathetic look. “He’s going to be fine,” she assured, gesturing for Maedhros to follow her back. “He’s got some pretty bad burns, and a nasty concussion on top of that - not quite a skull fracture though, thank goodness - so he doesn’t look his best, but he’ll pull through.”

Maedhros felt like she could breathe for the first time in hours. “Thank you,” she murmured shakily. “That’s good. Thank you. Can I...?”

“He wa sawake last I checked,” the nurse said, turning a corner and gesturing Maedhros toward a door. “He’s right through there. I’ll let you have some time before you have to stick to visiting hours. But if he’s asleep, let him sleep, he needs it.”

“Of course,” Maedhros promised, and then she was through the door without waiting another moment.

The hospital room was small, just big enough for the bed and medical equipment and some cupboards. The walls were a sickly pale yellow with wainscoted wallpaper patterned with badly drawn mauve flowers, but the room had Fingon in it, and that was more than enough for her.

He was lying still, his eyes closed and a saline drop going into one heavily bandaged arm - all of him was heavily bandaged. His braids were gone, Maedhros noted distantly as she dropped into the hard plastic chair beside him, burned or cut off she couldn’t tell.

He shifted as she sat down, and then opened his bloodshot eyes to look at her. “Russe,” he murmured, “you’re here.”

“Yes,” she choked out, barely holding back tears now that she knew everything was relatively all right. “I came right away. They just let me in. Ho are you feeling?”

Fingon appeared to assess himself for a moment, and winced. “Everything hurts,” he informed her. “I was a little bit on fire. Not anymore, though. And I think they’ve got me on painkillers, ‘cause the hurting is kinda...far away.”

“That’s okay,” Maedhros said, and reached her hand out for his bandaged one on instinct. He took it before she could think better of it. “You’re going to be okay, Finno, I was so worried, but they said you’ll make it no problem. You’ll just have to rest and heal for a while.”

Fingon hummed and nodded slightly. Then, “Is Gil okay? Where is he? Is he - what did you tell him?”

“He’s fine, he’s with Atar and Curufin, they were closest,” Maedhros assured. “He and Tyelpe are probably having a lovely time. He knows you got hurt and that i had to come see you without him, but that’s it. Nothing scary.”

“That’s good.” Fingon let out a sigh. “Sorry I worried you, Russe.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s not like you asked to get in a wreck.” She sniffed hard, still determined not to cry. “I’m just glad you’re still here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Fall to the dark side,” Fingon said, slurring slightly, echoing an old joke of theirs, “and then where would Gil be?”

“Exactly.” Maedhros just barely stopped herself from squeezing his hand, not wanting to hurt him. “So rest up and get better, okay? I’ll come as often as they’ll let me, and I’ll bring Gil, too, now that --” Now that she knew Fingon wasn’t about to die. “-- I’ll bring him.”

The nurse was back, knocking lightly on the doorframe, and Fingon’s eyelids were starting to flutter with sleepiness, so Maedhros stood and brused a kiss over his forehead, just barely not making contact. “I love you, Finnonya. Sleep well.”

Then she had to leave, ushered out, but the awful thing constricting her chest when she arrived had gone away now. Fingon was alive. He’d get well. Everything else, she could handle, as long as he was still there.

#silmarillion #russingonweek #maedhros #fingon #russingon #maedhros x fingon #my stories #modern au #tw character injury #hospitals #probably inaccurate medical stuff

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starsomens · 9 months

Note

I had some thoughts about dad Noah

he likes to take lots and I mean lots of photos at random times of the day between you and the baby. like you're reading a children's book with him, Noah is there to take a photo without you seeing. He probably changes his cell phone wallpaper almost every week because he can't decide with so many cute pictures

He likes it when you go with the baby to the studio and watch him work, sometimes Noah doesn't even finish what he needs to because he gets distracted by you and the baby looking at him with bright eyes and showing pride

When you were pregnant, Noah would poke or stare for hours at what you and he did together

again, when you were pregnant Noah liked to draw on your belly because he saw it on the Internet and thought it was really funny so he started doing it, especially his favorite anime or game characters

ok, that's all

thanks!

OH ANON!!!! YES AAAHHHH

THANK YOU ANON BIG BESITOS FOR YOU MWWUUAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!

literally made my night while doing homework

#dad noah will be the death of me #dad noah #noah bad omens #bad omens #noah sebastian #star’s anons✨#bad omens cult #noahsebastian #badomens

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bellarkeselection · 2 years

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Plotting Gossip

Request from @catmikaelson20 klaus is hatching a plot against an enemy, and he is making a plan with some witches, and suddenly, a witch sees klaus's phone wallpaper. He tells her that it's his girlfriend and starts talking about her non-stop.

"So let's run over the plan one more time. We hunt down the witches who are working alongside my mother. Then we torture them and get information and once they are dead we stack their bodies as a message to my future enemies. What are you doing with my phone little witch?" He stopped his explanation seeing Davina was holding his cell phone in her hands. She turned the phone screen towards him showing him a picture of him and Y/n. "Who exactly is this girl. I thought you didn't care about human life because they were too weak." He takes the phone from her hands grinning ear to ear at the picture making his heart flutter. "She's my girlfriend, Y/n. The love of my life. She's my everything."

He kept staring at the phone before sitting down on the couch. He couldn't get enough of seeing his girlfriend and he missed her everyday they weren't together. "Davina she may be human but she is innocent and brings out the good in me. She makes me feel like a better version of myself. Like I can be better with her. She makes me feel human again." He glanced up at the witch seeing her just blankly staring at the original hybrid. "Wow I didn't know you had that in you." She breaths out before the door opened and she saw a young girl with (h/c) enter the room waving to the witch then leaning down and kissing him gently on the lips. "Hi Davina. Hi baby. So how's your plan to stop your mother going. You're not covered in blood yet so that means we still have time for our date." The witch watched her smile still not fully understanding that he was head over heels for someone.

"Of course we can love. I did promise you that you would be my first priority before I take my vengeful mother." My boyfriend Klaus replied twirling some pieces of my hair in between his fingers. Without thinking I wrapped my arms around his neck leaning down pressing my lips onto his. He cradles my face in his hands and I started pulling at his curly locks getting him to moan until Davina cleared her throat blushing at us. "Uh I'm gonna go..." Klaus waved his hand wrapping his arms around my waist making me squeal when he started kissing my neck finding my sweet spot. "Yes little witch leave us. Well tear my enemies apart later." He vamped me upstairs putting my back onto the bed breaking the kiss to remove his shirt and mine. Wrapping my arms around his neck he moaned when my fingers twisted themselves into his curly blonde hair.

"I guess we're skipping dinner tonight for this. I mean not that I'm complaining I'm just suprised." I gasped grinning up at him tracing my fingers over the tattoo on his chest. He moves down running one hand through my hair crashing his lips onto mine. He breaks the kiss staring down at me like I was a goddess or a queen in his eyes. Even though I was a weak human compared to him he sees me as much more than that. "I just can't help myself Y/n. I'm just bloody obsessed with you. You're very being, your smile, laugh, spirit and the way you make me a better hybrid than I used to be-" I cut him off crashing my lips onto his he gasped leaning into kiss until I break it feeling my heartbeat skip a little. "Nik, I love the way you describe everything you love about me but there's far too much talking for the amount of clothes we aren't wearing. So make love to me already please." He smirked nuzzling his nose against mine running his fingers over my hips making me squeal. "What kind of boyfriend would I be if I denied my queen's wishes."

Tags @rosie-posie08 @colbysbrocks

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#klaus mikaelson x reader fluff #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson x y/n #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson imagines #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson x human reader #jospeh morgan #tvd #tvd imagine #tvd fandom #tvd x reader #tvdu #tvd witches #klaus mikaelson fluff #requests open #ask box is open for anything #comments really appreciated

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kaiwewi · 2 years

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A Room for Two

Secret Santa gift for @save-the-villainous-cat 🎅💝 I hope this will do your prompt justice!! Bit longer than originally planned, because I got carried away xD

“Get some sleep,” the villain had said.

Like slumber wasn’t some near unattainable, elusive enigma on the best of nights. Like the hero wouldn’t find themself tossing and turning for hours, haunted, even when their sorrows and worries were unfounded.

If they already couldn’t sleep under normal circumstances, how were they supposed to find any rest when they, for once, actually had good reasons to be upset and anxious?

Reasons. Plural.

As if being abducted by Supervillain wasn’t nerve-wracking enough by itself. To add insult to injury, she’d dragged them right off their living room couch, hauled them halfway across the city while offering only the most cryptic of half-explanations for her actions, and then presented them to the villain as a ‘Christmas gift’.

This had to be the most humiliating and terrifying thing that had ever happened to the hero, and all their nemesis had to say to them was to 'get some sleep'.

What were they supposed to do? Let go of their fury and frustration and climb into bed with the villain, pretending the two of them were good friends having a fun sleepover and not enemies sharing a damn prison cell?

Yeah, fat chance.

Besides, the hero hated sleepovers. Sleepovers always ended in darkness and isolation, with the hero lying awake in the early morning hours, forced to listen to their friends’ even breathing ringing through their own sleepless silence like taunts.

But it hardly mattered. They didn’t plan on sticking around anyway.

They stomped through the half-lit room again and tried the door one more time for good measure. Still locked. Of course it was. They muttered a few curses. All right, the window then. Maybe they had missed something. Maybe they could—

“Hero, please.” The villain groaned, face half-buried in a heap of cushions. “Stop pacing round the room like a caged tiger. I’m trying to sleep.”

They were not pacing. Pacing implied aimlessness. They had a purpose. While the villain had plopped down on the stupidly soft-looking, king-sized bed, fluffed their pillows, and turned off their bedside lamp, the hero had been scanning the room, attempting to form an escape plan.

“I’m trying to find a way out,” they hissed. “Because, in case you haven’t noticed, we are trapped. This is a cage.”

“Actually, it’s a suite. Supervillain’s nicest guest-room even.”

“Right. A guest-room with a locked door and barred windows.” The hero scoffed. “What does that make you? Supervillain’s most esteemed guest?”

“It’s a temporary arrangement,” the villain said crossly. “If you must know, Supervillain and I had a disagreement about … work-related issues. I'm only here so I won't get in the way of her plans. Once she’s finalized her current project, she’ll let me go.”

The hero glared into the night beyond the open window and trailed their fingers along the gold-plated ornaments of the, sadly, perfectly solid metal bars. “You’re an idiot,” they said, “if you think a cosy bed, expensive wallpaper, and a fluffy carpet make this any less of a cage.”

“You forgot to mention the flat-screen TV and the gaming console.”

The hero turned their glower on the villain, who sighed.

“Fine,” their nemesis said. “Let it be a cage then. A gilded cage with excellent room service. Which is a million times better than the alternative. So, I’d very much appreciate it if you would kindly behave yourself, be patient, and not get us relocated to the dungeon. Thank you.” The villain rolled their eyes. “Come on. It’s late and I’m tired. If you aren’t going to sleep, can you at least lie down? Please.”

The villain really did sound tired. Despondent almost. It didn’t suit them. Not that the villain’s pitiful state changed anything.

“Don’t do that. Don’t pretend I’m the one being unreasonable. You don’t get to act like my presence here is such an inconvenience to you after you asked Supervillain to kidnap me.”

“You think I wanted her to—” To their credit, the villain seemed genuinely appalled at the notion. “I’d never—”

“Funny.” They spit the word like a threat and felt somewhat gratified when the villain subtly shuffled a bit closer to the headboard with every step the hero took towards the bed. “Because when I asked Supervillain why she’d taken me, she told me, and I quote, ‘Villain wants company’.”

Their nemesis cringed. They averted their gaze and wrapped the covers protectively around themself in a rare display of … remorse? Fear? Vulnerability?

Yep. Something was definitely off about the villain today.

Curious, the hero sat down on the empty side of the bed after all and leaned back against the pillows. Dammit, the stupid things were even cosier than they looked.

“I’m sorry,” the villain said softly. “When I said I didn’t want to be alone on Christmas, I thought Supervillain would send a henchman to play boardgames with me or – I don’t know – get me a cat? I never thought she’d go and kidnap my favourite frenemy.”

Why did the villain have to sound like they were about to cry?

Great. Now the hero was beginning to feel guilty too.

A bit reluctant, they reached across the empty space between the two of them and awkwardly put their hand on the villain’s shoulder.

Their nemesis sucked in a sharp breath, but otherwise made no protest.

“Villain,” the hero said after a moment of tense silence. “How long have you been here?”

“Five weeks,” the villain replied in too matter-of-fact a tone, “two days, and roughly” – there was a bit of shuffling as they turned to throw a glance at the alarm clock on their bedside table – “seven hours now.”

The hero didn’t know what to say to that. They pulled their hand back.

Neither of them spoke for a minute or two.

“So…” the hero said eventually. “I’m your favourite?”

The villain tsked, though not without humour. “Honestly? I would have preferred the cat.”

More silence.

The hero stared at the ceiling. They were beginning to think the villain might have fallen asleep already, when they felt a soft tug on the sleeve of their t-shirt.

“Hey, Hero?” the villain whispered. “Could you touch me again?”

“Excuse me?”

“Not- Not in a weird way! Just, maybe, a hug? … I really miss my friends and family,” the villain added, as if that was explanation enough. Perhaps it was.

The hero sighed, grumbled incoherently, then sighed again. It wasn’t like they’d get any sleep either way. “Okay,” they said. “But if you do anything funny, I’ll smack you.”

The villain chuckled. The mattress dipped as they scooted over and wrapped their arms around the hero with a tentativeness that, given the two of them were technically enemies, bordered on sacrilege.

“Thank you,” the villain murmured, dozing off right then and there. “I was so lonely.”

The hero couldn’t bring themself to push the villain away after that, even if it meant they’d likely remain in this position until the villain woke up again. They closed their eyes, resigned themself to another long night, and let their thoughts drift into reverie.

When the hero blinked their eyes open again, they were met with the disorienting sight of daylight, ruffled sheets, and their bed-headed nemesis still curled up in their arms.

Wow. They’d slept. – Kidnapped, locked up, and cuddling with their enemy, the hero had finally managed to have a good night's sleep. After weeks of restlessness and insomnia in the safety of their own bedroom. What irony…

They lifted their head to get a better look at the small smile on the villain’s sleeping face.

Maybe the hero would delay their escape attempts, stick around for a few nights. They could really use a vacation. And hadn’t the villain said something about excellent room service?

#Secret Santa #Secret Santa snippets #save-the-villainous-cat #heroes and villains #hero x villain #villain x hero #hero/villain #enemies to friends #one bed trope #insomnia #snippet #writing snippet #writing #my writing #creative writing #fiction #writeblr #writers #writers on Tumblr

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