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midnightorchids · 27 days

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I am kinda curious

What would Jason be like if the coffee Cafe owner!reader built in a small library in her Cafe just for him,like she saw he liked reading and went like 'yup. I am building a small library for him'

This is such a fun idea, but omg please forgive me, I went a little overboard. Once I figured out what to write, I couldn’t stop. I apologize for how long it is. Also, this is completely gender neutral, so anyone can read!

But omg also, I was literally kicking my feet and giggling writing the end lol, Anyways enjoy!

Owning a cafe was a difficult job, there was always much to do— customers to attend to, drinks to make, and maintenance to do. You were always busy, but you loved your job.

You had spent a lot of time curating the perfect atmosphere for your beloved customers. The lighting was warm, with fairy lights and lanterns dangling from the ceiling. There was wooden furniture and two old couches that sat by the glass windows. The tiny space smelled of freshly brewed coffee and sweet bread. The cafe was always inviting.

You had many regulars at the coffee shop, each one with their own story, a different purpose.

For the past six months, twice a week, every Thursday and Saturday morning, a tall man walked in. Jason, you recalled his name from the many times you prepared his drinks. He’d order the same thing every time, a small London fog and a walnut banana bread.

He’d sit at the table nearest to the entrance, his back never towards the door.

Every morning, he’d come in with a new book. You had seen him read Franz Kafka, Oscar Wilde and Jane Austen; he’d read a lot of Austen.

He was a mystery and you wanted to know more.

You found Jason quite handsome. His skin was scattered with scars and you often found yourself staring at the permanent wound near his lips. You wanted to run your fingers along it, to trace it, to kiss it.

His eyes were always kind, a deep shade of green, forest-like you’d think to yourself.

He spoke with kindness. His voice velvety and rich, much like the espresso you’d brew everyday, except his voice was never bitter, almost always doused with honey.

Sometimes you’d catch him looking over at the counter, at you, you’d hoped.

Your coworkers were afraid of him, telling you to stay away, but you couldn’t help yourself. He was like an enticing book, waiting to be read. They’d warn you, “do not engage in too much conversation with the strange man.” But it was as if they were talking to a small child, their words would go in one ear and out the other.

“Strange,” you would never use that word to describe him.

From the small talk you had with him, to his choice in books, to even his taste in tea, you’d never describe him as strange.

Gentle was the word you’d choose.

He was huge, all height and muscle, terrifying to most, however to you, he was everything but that. You saw an angel and you didn’t even know him… yet, you’d tell yourself.

There were days, where you almost gained the courage to ask for his number, maybe ask for small detail, perhaps get a glimpse of his life. But each attempt was futile. Why was it so hard to speak to him for more than five minutes, you’d curse your inability to speak to attractive men.

You were beginning to give up on your dreams of getting to know the beautiful stranger, when he walked in through door.

The conversation began as per usual.

“Morning Jason, what can I grab you today,” you asked politely. He smiled softly in return and you stare at the scar by his lip as he begins to speak.

“Uhh surprise me,” you look at him confused, he’s never done that before and he finds himself smiling harder. “Just kidding, I’ll just the take the usual please,” he says as he places his copy of Jane Eyre on the counter to take out his wallet.

“Brontë, why am I not surprised,” you reply, gazing at the book. You take the cash from his hands and your heart drops. Shades of purple and crimson coat his skin. They’re bruised, again.

“What can I say, I’m a man of taste,” he smirks. You roll your eyes and giggle.

“Now who told you that,” and he shrugs. Then there’s a lull, you don’t know what to say now. It isn’t awkward, but you find yourself starting feeling a little uneasy. God, if you only you could come up with something else to say. You shake your head slightly and begin to warm up his banana bread.

You turn around and wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t walk away to his usual table this time, instead he takes a seat next to the counter. Odd, you thought.

Jason’s gaze doesn’t leave you for a second, he watches you in admiration, you don’t quite catch on.

If you thought Jason was handsome, then he thought you belonged in a museum. You were a work of art in his eyes. The kind of beauty they wrote poetry about. Absolutely stunning.

He wanted to get to know you, speak to you, but he was afraid. If you didn’t reciprocate his feelings, then he may never be able to see you again. The trips to the cafe would no longer be necessary and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

However today, Jason pushes his fears aside, he feels bold. He finds his confidence and he speaks.

“Do you read much,” he asks suddenly. You place his cup of tea and bread in front of him, and nod your head.

“I do, but not what you read,” you reply and he stares into your eyes, curious. “I mostly read magazines, you know Vogue and stuff,” his smile drops a little, he’s trying really hard to not look judgemental. Cute, you think. “Kidding, I read fantasy mostly,” and his face lights up again.

“So like J.K. Rowling,” he questions.

“No, Harry Potter’s good, but I’m not really a fan of her, you know as a person. I’ve been reading a lot Neil Gaiman recently though,” you say.

“Oh fuck, yeah, she’s said some pretty crazy stuff huh,” and you nod again. “Gaiman though, I don’t think I’ve ever read his stuff before, he any good,” he asks and your eyes go wide, you’re excited.

You spend the next hour of his visit speaking to him about books, about the things that you both like.

You only part from the conversation when there was a customer.

You’ve never felt this way before, all the assumptions you made about him were true. He was an angel, a kind and gentle one.

A month goes by and you notice your relationship with Jason change. Now, instead of sitting by the entrance of the cafe, he sits near you, back against the door. A sign of trust, you assumed. He smiled more, he showed his teeth and he laughed, hard. You loved the sound of his laugh. His eyes looked brighter, greener, emerald-like. He still walked in with a new book, but when the conversation began, it was long forgotten.

You watched his bruises heal and you watched new ones appear, you were always curious, but never had the courage to ask. He’d tell you when he was ready.

As time went by, you found yourself wanting to do something for him, you wanted him to know that you cared. You thought that if your words were going to fail you, then maybe your actions would prove otherwise.

Working a closing shift at the cafe on a gloomy Tuesday evening, you find yourself thinking of different gestures you could do.

Ideas came and left, nothing felt good enough. He deserved the best. Trying to busy your mind elsewhere, you begin to sweep the floors and that’s when inspiration hits you.

There, in the coffee shop, lies an empty corner. An odd spot, not necessarily small, but also not large enough either.

A perfect fit for a decently sized bookshelf. A library, for the community, but most importantly for Jason. You smile to yourself, proud at the thought. He’d love this, you knew he would.

The next morning you find yourself drilling holes into the pale walls of the cafe, trying attach the large shelf you lugged down to the shop.

Once everything was fixed into its rightful place, you begin adding the books, by genre and then by the authors’ last names. You add many of Jason’s favourites, multiple copies of Austen. You add children’s books, comics and something for yourself.

The shelf fits right into the ambiance of the cafe, elevating it honestly. The corner looked cosy and you found yourself wanting to sit by one of the couches with a book and a cup of hot chocolate.

You stare at the shelf once more, proud. Now, you just had to wait.

Jason walks into the cafe the next day, he’s late. He arrives near closing time. It’s just you and him in the cafe, most of your staff left for the day and not many people stayed this late. It’s quiet, the only sound coming from the machines on your side of the counter. He’s holding another book in his hand, but he has no intention of reading tonight.

His hair is slicked back, and there’s a small cut on his forehead. He’s dressed in a white dress shirt and black pants. He looks like he’s coming back from a big event or maybe he’s going to one later. Either way, he looks pretty like this, his arms look more defined and you can make out the muscles on his back when he walks around the room, waiting for his drink.

His eyes wander around the cafe before settling on the bookshelf nestled in the odd corner. His eyes soften, he’s never noticed that before, it must be new, he thinks.

“When’d you get this,” he asks, his fingers running along the spines of the books. He’s smiling, there’s so many books.

“Yesterday, it’s for you,” you say, holding your breath. This is it, the moment you’ve been preparing for.

“For me,” he looks over at you as you settle his tea on the counter. You begin walking over to his side, slowly, riddled with nerves.

“Yes, since you’re always here, I thought you’d like having a book shelf here. It’s like a library, you take a book and then you-“ he cuts you off suddenly.

“You made a library for me in your cafe, are you serious,” he’s trying to hold back a smile, you can tell. His scar gets more prominent when he does that. “Why,” he as asks, his voice is soft, it feels like warm milk with honey, comforting.

“You’re gonna make me say it,” you can’t see your face, but it feels hot, you can tell you’re blushing.

“Yeah, say it. Why is there a library in your cafe for me,” he says, enunciating the words “your” and “for me.” He’s smirking now. He knows the answer, he just wants to hear it from you.

The point of the library was to not have to say anything, for your actions to speak for you, but here you are. Ears burning and palms clammy.

“I…,” you trail off, you look around the room, anywhere but his face. He notices and walks closer, his hands gently make their way around your waist.

“Say it,” he exclaims, it’s not forceful, he’s smiling and shades of pink dust his cheeks.

You close your eyes shut, fuck, you’re going to have to say it.

“I really like you jas-,” and with that, his lips find their way to your own. You move in harmony, much like matcha and oat milk. His lips are sweet, he tastes like the banana bread, he decided to eat while pacing around the cafe. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, you pull back and smile. You peck his lips. Once where the scar is and once more on the centre. He grins.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear that from you,” he mumbles against your lips, waiting for you to kiss him again.

And you do, you kiss him again and again.

#gn!reader #jason todd #red hood #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd headcanon #red hood headcanon #batfam

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spooky-holtz · 1 month

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Sicilian Scheming

Melissa Schemmenti x reader

Genre: pure fluff

Word Count: 3.4k

Prompt: "I seen you were looking for ideas for fics and was wondering if you’d write one where Mellisa’s Nona comes to visit her at Abbot during summer planning where she meets teacher Reader and essentially forces them to go on a date together even though they don’t get along well but they end up really hitting it off then a time skip to their wedding where Nona’s bragging about getting them together?"

I've diverted from the prompt a little but the core of it still stands. Strap in.

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Make no mistake, you absolutely love teaching the third grade but by the time summer comes around, you’re glad to see them go. Summer vacation gives you a chance to relax and enjoy your time away from the stuffy brick building that is Abbott Elementary, spending weeks at a time curled up on the window ledge of your apartment basking in the sun with a good novel and often a crisp glass of wine.

You rarely get chance to see your co-workers save for the coffee dates you have with Janine, often meeting the smaller woman around the corner from her home to sit and chat in the large glass windows as the rest of the world passes by. You spend hours at a time chatting about anything and everything your rather uneventful lives have thrown at you, fingers curled around a sweating glass of flavored iced tea. These breaks are always among the highlights of your year, giving you a chance to wind down and refresh ready for the next group of kids that you will take under your wing.

By the time the summer break winds down though, you’re eager to get back to school and see your dysfunctional work family. There’s nothing you love more than the first day after weeks apart, hearing all about Barbra’s annual cruise with Gerald, or Jacob’s latest mission to get himself “down with the kids” - it usually involves some god awful Tik Tok trend that he should NOT be doing, but you don’t have the heart to stop his rather spirited approach to engaging with his students.

You love these conversations but there is somebody else that you find yourself searching for the second you step foot through the green doors of Abbott; Mellisa Schemmenti. The older woman has become an infatuation for you, her rigid exterior always melting when you interact. She knows exactly how you take your coffee, always leaves a seat open for you during meetings, and takes every opportunity to compliment your appearance - whether it's a new pair of earrings, or a slightly different shade of hair dye, Melissa will always notice.

She makes you feel special in the smallest ways, always leaving you with the hope that she might actually like you back. It feels juvenile and you can’t help but imagine yourself as one of the kids you teach every day, sending heart eyes across the room at each other at any given chance, just waiting for her cheeks to flush and that small, suppressed smile to appear on her glossed lips.

Your crush is no secret, but you would never tell anyone - well, except Janine who had managed to guess exactly why you get so nervous around the older woman after a few glasses of wine at the last faculty holiday party. You didn’t have to say anything; your longing looks toward the redhead on the other side of the teachers’ lounge as you nursed a plastic cup full of cheap alcohol was enough to prompt your friend to ask. You could never lie to Janine’s puppy dog eyes, especially not with a buzz courtesy of the liquor store across the street.

You can’t help but let your thoughts drift toward thick Philly accents as you sit in the gym on the first day of school, squashed between Jacob and Janine and caught directly in the middle of their conversation about whatever new Netflix documentary series dropped last week. You’re really trying to listen, but your thoughts are consumed by bright red curls and glittery lip gloss, not true crime documentaries.

You find yourself scanning the room as the pair babble on and you notice that the seating arrangement is half empty as you wait for the rest of the faculty to arrive and for Ava to take the stage for yet another development week speech that will go down in infamy at Abbott. She’s already poked her head from behind the curtain on the stage twice, clearly impatient to make her grand entrance to a group of less than willing participants.

You begin to hear the telltale sound of heeled boots clicking against the linoleum floor and you feel yourself freezing into place just as Melissa waltzes into the hall, Barbara in tow. You don’t know if you’re impressed or terrified at her ability to constantly wear those shoes and the thought makes you realize that you’ve never actually seen Melissa at her normal height.

Just as you suck in a deep breath, her eyes scan the room and instantly land where you sit, sandwiched between two of your rather enthusiastic co-workers. As her green eyes meet yours you see them shrink at the smile she sends your way, her pearly white teeth cutting through the shiny pink lip gloss she’s always wearing. You send a similar smile back, overjoyed at the fact she merely noticed you. God help your heart rate when she decides to talk to you for the first time in two months.

Your attention is pulled away by Barbara, who waves enthusiastically from behind Melissa, making her way toward the empty seats directly in front of you. Your eyes dart back to Melissa as she follows the billowing of the older woman’s cardigan, heels still impossibly loud against the floor.

The dark button down she’s sporting is tight against her torso, the sleeves rolled up to reveal her deceptively toned forearms. You have to remind yourself to look away for a split second, the thought of getting caught ogling her by one of your co-workers forcing you to tear your eyes away. You look toward Janine who has trailed off her conversation with Jacob, the pair watching you and Melissa like a tennis match. You feel your shoulders slump at Jacob’s knowing look, the excitement practically making him vibrate.

“You’re kidding, you know too?” You sigh.

“Uh yeah, you don’t exactly hide the heart eyes,” he scoffs. He must see the deer-in-headlights expression on your face because he continues, “I wouldn’t worry, she was definitely just throwing them right back at you.”

You have no time to reply as the subject of the conversation reaches the row of seats in front of you, sitting in the hard plastic chair and turning her torso to see you, hand resting on the back of her seat. Her smile is wide again as she looks to you. The panic brews in your throat and your palms instantly become sweaty at the prospect of Melissa feeling the intensity of your feelings.

“Hey hun, it’s been a while,” she says, her eyes still crinkled from the smile she wears. Her focus is entirely on you, ignoring the duo that sits on either of your sides.

“Yeah, it has,” you manage to stammer out, “How’ve you been? You look good.”

You inwardly cringe at your words but you’re not lying. She’s obviously had her hair dyed ready for the new school year and it’s even brighter than usual, making her even easier for you to pick out of a crowd. She looks so full of life and at ease, the break clearly having done her well. Her smile grows impossibly wider at your compliment, putting you instantly at ease.

“It was great,” she replies. “Spent a lotta time at the beach with my family, so I’m not as pasty as you may have remembered.”

She throws a wink your way with the last statement, causing a pink blush to cover your cheeks within seconds. What you wouldn’t give to actually see Melissa at the beach, totally relaxed on a sun lounger with a drink in hand. The image turns your cheeks an even deeper shade of red and Mel clearly catches on, her smirk letting you know that she knows exactly where your thoughts have gone.

Before you even have chance to reply, Ava makes her grand entrance from behind the curtain to a chorus of groans that echos throughout the room.

You can feel Janine’s elbow nudging into your side, your friend having had a front row seat to your entire interaction with the redhead. The action earns her a swift kick to the ankle under her seat, accompanied by a hissed “don’t you dare”.

The meeting is over almost as quickly as it begins, Ava rushing back to her office to catch the latest episode of Real Housewives - she didn’t explicitly say it but you all know that’s the only reason she would be running back down the hall. You won’t complain though because it means you can get started with your work to prepare your classroom for the year ahead. You stand from your seat alongside Jacob and Janine and have all intentions of getting back to work when Melissa turns around again. Her emerald eyes stop you in your tracks, mid-stretch, your arms flexed above your head.

“I never got the chance to tell you earlier, but I really like your dress,” she says, completely catching you off guard. Your hands fall, hanging limply by your side and brushing against the floral fabric of your clothing. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t wear it specifically to catch her eye this morning. The soft smile she wears on her face makes your heart melt, the look on her face only reserved for you. “It's real pretty.”

You both stand there for a few seconds, blushing like lovesick teenagers and staring into each other's eyes when a throat clearing brings you back to reality. Janine claps her hands together, flustered by the interaction.

“Okay, I’m gonna get back to my classroom and, uh, get started on cleaning. Have a good day guys!” She calls as she walks away with Jacob in tow, enthusiastic as ever as he throws a thumbs up your way. You know that within five minutes of leaving the school gym she’ll be in your classroom waiting for the rundown on what the hell just happened between you and Melissa, as if she didn’t see it all happen from inches away. At this rate, you wouldn’t be surprised if Jacob shows up with a bag of popcorn to join in with the gossip session.

“Oh shit, yeah, I need to clean before Nonna shows up,” Melissa mumbles, “I don’t wanna even think about the earful I’ll get if my classroom is a mess.” She doesn’t even stop to think before she turns on her heel and practically runs out of the gym and down the hall toward her classroom. You don’t have time to process her words before her best friend speaks.

“Well, I guess that just leaves us,” Barbara says from her place next to where the redhead stood. She wears a gentle smile on her face that will always help you feel at ease. She reaches her arm out to you, linking your arm within hers as she turns to walk. “Come on honey, I’ll walk you to your room and tell you all about the cruise I had with my Gerald.”

After a rather lengthy conversation about ‘Sea Barbara’ and her less-than-christian antics, you’re back at your door for the first time in months and can’t help but feel like you’re home. Nobody particularly likes their job but that couldn’t be further from the truth for you. Already, you’ve planned out the next year and can’t wait to welcome your little Eagles back into the classroom.

It’s a full hour later by the time you actually hear another person’s voice - Janine chose to keep her distance but will no doubt grill you about Melissa at some point today. It’s just a matter of when.

You hear the signature clicking of her heels before you can see her, her footsteps considerably slower than usual. You can hear her talking as she walks, though you can’t make you exactly what she’s saying. The footsteps grow louder and slower before you hear a knock against your doorframe, the door propped open by a thick stack of textbooks that you’ve wedged in front of it in a desperate attempt to get some airflow in the stuffy room.

The sound makes you whip your head from where you stand on your stepladder, stapler and crepe paper in hand as you put together a display for the kids. You know exactly who will be standing there, already smiling as you turn and meet her eyes.

“Hey Hun,” she says, “I’ve got someone here who wanted to really meet you.”

For the first time you notice the presence beside her. You don’t need to take any guesses that this is Melissa’s infamous Nonna, the older woman clearly having stamped her grandchildren with her genes - she looks exactly how you imagine Melissa would in her old age, her hair silver and leaning gently on a cane.

“Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti!” she exclaims, making you jump and stand up straighter, terrified at the prospect of already being on her bad side. You climb down from the ladder as she stares at you, smoothing your hands down the front of your dress in an effort to get rid of any creases that may have formed during the morning. “You said she was pretty, but not this pretty!”

You feel your shoulders relax as you laugh at the older woman, taken aback, Melissa by the side of her groaning loudly with a “Nonna, really?” You move toward the pair holding your hand out to shake the wrinkled one of the grey-haired lady before you. Her fingers are adorned by the same kind of jewelry that Melissa wears, her Sicilian heritage extremely clear from the large signet rings that she wears across her hands.

“And there’s no mistaking that you must be Nonna,” you grin, introducing yourself. “I’ve heard a lot about you. You’re like a living legend around here.” She closes her hand around yours, the other still gripping her cane.

“Pretty and complimentary?” She remarks, turning to look at her granddaughter whose face has managed to turn the same colour as her hair. “Well, you kept a lot quiet about this one.”

You can’t help but look at Melissa at this statement, catching her eye and smiling even wider, Nonna’s remarks already making your grin impossibly wide. Her brow relaxes itself slightly, the hard lines around her eyes softening when she sees the pure joy on your face at finally getting to meet the woman you’ve heard so much about over the last few years.

“I’m not sure if I want to hear exactly what you know about me,” you joke to her, catching Melissa’s eye yet again. The poor woman looks unbelievably flustered but it's a welcome change in your dynamic. She usually gets to revel in the fact that you turn into a puddle in her presence, but now you can only hope to add to the quickly darkening hue of her cheeks.

“Trust me, you do. This one doesn’t shut up about you,” she says, smiling slightly and cocking her head toward Melissa who is actively wishing that a sinkhole would open up beneath her feet. She lets go of your hand and moves further into the classroom, leaning ever so slightly on her stick but still moving with all the confidence of your favourite Schemmenti woman - at least you know where Melissa gets it from now.

Your eyes dart to Melissa, the older woman already looking back at you with a silent apology in her eyes her teeth worrying her bottom lip. You reach out and rub the top of her arm over her shirt in a small act of comfort, letting her know that this entire situation is doing nothing but working in her favour.

“Ya know, it’s nice seeing something other than my Melissa’s classroom or the reception desk at this school for once,” Nonna says, almost speaking to herself. She looks around the room almost in awe, taking in the displays in various degrees of completion around the room.

You follow her further in, Melissa hot on your tail behind you. She’s so close that you feel her almost walk straight into your back as you stop closer to the older woman, her once intimidating heels stuttering slightly on the wooden floor.

“So, tell me,” Nonna begins, turning in place to face you, “What brought a girl like you to Philly? I know you’re not a local.” Her eyes twinkle as she asks, and you have a sneaking suspicion that she already knows the answer to her question from the tales her granddaughter has seemingly told her about you.

“I just wanted a change,” you answer honestly. “I only thought I’d be here a couple years, but it’s been five and I can’t see myself leaving any time soon.”

At your statement you hear Melissa sigh by your side. As your head turns to meet her gaze you see just how much it softened at your words. She knows just how much you love your job and the dedication you’re willing to put into making sure these kids make it. Year after year she’s been the one to help you draft lesson plans and mark countless piles of work over a mug of coffee in the teachers’ lounge, helping you when you feel slightly out of your depth in more ways than she could imagine.

It’s only when she’s this close to your face that you can see the glittering of her lip gloss as she smiles slightly, her lips pulled together in a look that conveys so much softness.

“Do you like Italian food?” Nonna asks, breaking the tense silence that has fallen between you. You feel the redhead beside you jump, both of you completely forgetting that her grandmother is just meters away from your little moment. You can’t answer quick enough, crying out for her approval and hoping that you can focus back from the incredible green eyes that are currently burning into the side of your head.

“Oh yeah, I absolutely love an Italian,” you stutter out, “Can’t get enough.”

You inwardly cringe at your words as you hear Melissa snicker by your side, Nonna’s eyes twinkling with amusement again. You hear a quiet “Bedda Matri” from Melissa through the giggles that shake her body.

“I bet ya do,” Nonna says, her grin revealing her impossibly pearly white teeth. You can feel yourself getting warmer and you’re not sure if it’s from the stuffiness of your classroom and its broken windows or from the pure embarrassment radiating through your system. “You know, I taught Melissa everything she knows about Italian food. Maybe if you’re nice she’ll cook for you sometime.”

Nonna’s eyebrows are raised as you turn to meet Melissa’s eyes, the older woman shrugging in your direction. It's nice to know you aren’t the only person completely lost in this conversation.

“Oh, I know!” Nonna exclaims, making the pair of you jump yet again, “Melissa, how about you cook this nice girl the family baked ziti tonight? Say, 7 o’clock?”

“Uh sure, if you don’t have anything on?” Melissa says, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion once again.

“No no, I’m totally free,” you stammer, your cheeks matching the deep red of your co-worker's hair. “I’ve got your address too.”

“Wonderful!” Nonna almost shouts, her shrill voice echoing off the semi-bare walls of your classroom. “You’re going to love it, trust me.” She says, throwing a wink your way.

You don’t particularly want to admit that the smaller woman is, but you do love it. So much so that two years later you’re twirling around a dance floor in a lacy white dress, Melissa in a matching getup and shiny new diamond rings on your left hands. As Billy Joel croons the chorus of ‘Just the Way You Are’ from the speakers set up around the room, you hear a familiar voice chirp up from a table just out of reach of the dance floor.

“You know, they would never have gotten together if I hadn’t practically knocked their heads together,” Nonna says, her voice carrying over the song as she explains her matchmaking services to Melissa’s Uncle Tony. You feel Melissa grin where her cheek rests against yours, your expression matching hers as you hear the older woman carry on. “I’m telling you now Anthony, this wedding wouldn’t even be happening if it wasn’t for me.”

You feel Melissa begin to giggle where she stands, her hands resting against the lace at the small of your back, thumbs rubbing gently against the surface as you sway together. You hear Nonna carry on, adamant that the life you’ve built wouldn’t be possible if not for her, and as much as you don’t want to give her satisfaction, you both know she’s right.

#wlw #self insert #reader fanfic #reader fic #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #writing #fluff #abbott elementary fanfic #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fic #melissa schemmenti fanfic #lisa ann walter x reader #lisa ann walter fic #melissa schemmenti x y/n

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tearskillstardust · 3 months

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❝ OF THOUGHT AND BIRTH DIVINE. ❞

001. 𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌—智慧之神。

Since antiquity, a word goes around in the lands surrounding the capital.

It's nothing new really, an old wives' tale—it has been passed from generation to generation by curious mothers who were once children themselves, having listened to the same story at least thrice from their own mothers before it was ultimately passed down to the next generation.

Your own mother had been shelling peas when she casually brought it up and you as casually dropped the vellum to listen in closer.

'They say the knowledge of prose and poetry is passed down by the God of wisdom, himself, and it is only from his generous blessing that one is able to find skill in these areas that leave most counting stars. '

You laughed, finding it as stupid as a donkey winning in a race of horses.

'Oh?' you questioned, and she passed a side-eye at your smug expression as you continued, 'And how much, pray tell, did you reminisce of', you sarcastically made exclamation marks in the air here, 'the God of wisdom, to have a child so blessed in the knowledge of poetry such as I?'

You did not have the right to complain when her hand playfully came to smack you at the side of your back, your father laughing as he came to settle next to you on the cot, having managed to find some free time from work only then.

'She's right, though, isn't she? Your child is blessed with the knowledge of poetry, why not appreciate it sometimes?'

Your mother passed a fond look before playfully pulling on your ear as you winced just as naughtily to provoke your father into taking your side—

'Aaah! Papa!'

'Don't listen to her! Arrogance keeps surfacing in this child's countenance!'

Your father laughs, affectionately freeing you from your mother as he handed you your vellum and secretively pointed towards his study.

He turns to your mother, 'You can't be like that with her anymore, love. She's grown and will marry away in some time, be kinder.'

Right, you think, rolling your eyes, finding the fun atmosphere deflating as you returned towards the study. You put away father's books from before—logs and registers detailing the exchanges of his store's valuables—absentmindedly staring at the feather in your hand as you played with its ink, making random pictures of flowers on the edge of you sheet.

If the restrictions put on all politically, especially the young who needed the most freedom of all, were not enough already, then there everyone was—putting more pressure socially.

Marriage was never a matter of casualty, if it occurred without inviting family from even the ends of the earth, then it was considered an unsuccessful one—and while you yourself were not big on having kids and romancing boys, the prospect of having a compatible, loving partner was not one that never crossed your mind.

Alas, you stared at the blank sheet with a more than bored look upon your features.

Inspiration was always hard to find.

Putting down your pen you rose with a sigh, gaze shaded with disappointment over inability to complete the poetry. What would rhyme with saccharine, anyway?

Mine?

No, you thought, turning towards the exit of the house without consulting anyone, only vaguely announcing to your father who sat on the cot, quietly enjoying his tea, as his gentle eyes traced your movements.

'I'll be back,' you said, and he nodded with a soft smile. Innocent, he was. Your father, that is. A man of simple but honest means, always smiling and finding joy in the basic things—your mother wasn't selfish herself, but she was certainly much cleverer than her husband.

You chuckled absent-mindedly, they were a cute couple. While most certainly were they a couple put together randomly by their families, they had accidentally ended up being the most compatible for each other than either would today admit. But when the moon danced with the clouds, it were their laughs of genuine amusement, arising from reminiscing old moments spent together, that softly sparked joy within your heart.

It was a tiny wish then, in the very corner of your heart, that if you end up marrying a noble man, then he too, be as lucky as your father had been for your mother.

Lost in thoughts, when the expanse to the lake had been covered, that you did not know but you headed straight towards the still water body. Sitting next to its very edge with a sigh, wallowing in self-pity as you sought to better your mood, you began thus, looking at your reflection in the still water—

'Often do lilies turn to me, hiding faces showered in glee. Shaded in shyness the orchids ask, where were you gone, Malika? and in my innocence I answer, to the devil's lair.'

Silence.

You broke out laughing, finding the poem less descriptive of your own self than it was of the orchid's undying curiosity as its vines spread their feet as far as they possibly could.

And while the poetry itself was a little less than mediocre in your eyes, someone else seemed to have been much too impressed for either of your best interests.

It was when you finally began preparing to rise, having had more than enough ideas to continue your work when he interrupted, both intrigued and upset as he spoke—

'Will you speak no more?'

You turned around quickly, and much to your embarrassment, did not manage to find the source of the voice until he scoffed again and waved his book boredly, 'Here, lady.'

You cocked a brow at him, 'I'm not a lady but you're definitely an auntie. Tell me, what is it?'

He curiously asked, voice managing to hide his internal desperation, 'Will you compose poetry no more?'

You looked him up and down and it was then that you managed to catch a proper glimpse of him as the clouds cleared, as though the Gods themselves were keen on enhancing his divinity, the crown of his hair shaded with pale yellow light.

He was young in appearance, perhaps even a girl's dream husband, but the stillness of his disposition and eyes spoke of a maturity which was rarely found.

You would've described him in fluent poetry, should you have had the patience or the time (or even interest), but just as quickly did the sun hide and the shadow fell upon him once again.

You breathed, and so did he.

You turned around with the attitude of a real Malika, 'No.'

'Why not?', came his answer, just as quick.

You rolled your eyes, turning back with an annoyed expression, 'Don't you know it's rude to listen on to people secretly?'

He sighed, 'Your voice is too melodious not to be listened to, Malika.'

You passed a dull expression, 'Lady to Malika, huh?', then rolled your eyes boredly, 'Chameleon.'

An amused smile stretched across his features, and if it didn't already seem as though the Gods had carved him out of the finest marble, then now it seemed as though sunlight poured from urns onto his ethereal features.

You blushed red at your internal monologue of his beauty.

Why did it matter, anyway?

People were never allowed to choose partners of their own, regardless they be lovers or not. Ideas of romance were better of printed on paper and sold off for gold—not for building your future on. Or so your mother said.

'Lost in thought?', he inquired, sitting up straight as he shut his book, yawning quietly before his gaze turned to meet yours once again.

'No, I know what I have to do.' you shook your head and turned away again, only to lulled in by the trap of his own voice once again.

'Please,' he said, desperate now, and you could not help but feel the smallest pang of shyness at his insistence. 'If not poetry, then talk about something. Anything.'

'Like?', you questioned once again, cursing your curiosity and intrigue with the young man once again. But who were you to deny yourself the simplicity of indulging in conversation with one so charming as him?

He smiled, but only innocence lay behind its drape. 'Like, what's your name?'

The cry of the cuckoo came to you on the wind.

You answered with a glittering smile, 'Y/n. And yours?'

He smiled back, just as illustrious in his wake. 'Al Haitham.'

If you were surprised at the scholarly name, you did not show it.

Silence ensued, in the midst of which none desired to speak. It was the first time you were with him in which he did not desire you to speak, but merely to smile as he watched on, as though unable to move on from the tantalizing spell of your gently tugged lips.

Squirrels curiously peeked from behind trees laden with fruits, as the curious sparrows lined up together in serenity, watching on. Even the mischievous macaque stopped for a moment's notice, taking a break from dropping half-eaten fruits into the water, for the pleasure of watching its surface ripple.

He spoke at long last—voice laced with unimaginable gentleness.

'Pray tell, what troubles you so? Did the poetess/poet not find enough inspiration for her/his work?'

You smiled gently, your heart just as calm as you were, as though under a spell. 'Indeed.'

He chuckled, 'Blessed with a moon-like face and still troubling yourself with inspiration?' he rose suddenly, humming thoughtfully as he came closer to you with a teasing smile.

'Just a suggestion', he said, smile never leaving his features, 'Why not write about how the sun fell for the moon?'

'Oh?', you asked, suppressing a smile at his implication, considering the way the sun seemed to sit right upon his head, as though a crown.

He nodded again, 'The way it so desperately tried to reach her,' his gaze flickered ever so gently towards your hands, 'only to be held back by the confines of the sky.'

'Confines of the sky or confines of its own rule?'

However romantic may the sentence itself might have been, the aura of gentleness contained in him never managed to leave, as though he knew nothing but gentleness for you.

His gaze softly brushed over yours and he pointed towards the small twig stuck in your hair, removing it when you nodded softly.

'Alas, the moon is much too a beauty to be forced into submission,' he playfully answered, 'The sun must find a way to reach her in the end.'

You winked at him, just as playful of nature, if not more. 'Well, he might have to do it quick then. For should the stars reach her before the sun does,' you softly poked his nose at that, 'then the sun will be left watching.'

His gaze glittered with adoration and love, as though he had never seen more beautiful a being. You flattered yourself and turned on your heel, walking away with a smile before his voice came to you once again—

'Will you meet me here tomorrow?'

You turned playfully, the wind playing with your hair, reflecting your saccharine mood.

'What if I don't?', you shouted back, and his laugh came on the wind,

'I'll wait for you regardless!'

And while the question of whether or not you would meet him by the lake the next day was one you would decide on spontaneously, it was magical almost when your pen seemed to simply glide in your hands. Words stringed like necklaces of pearl in quick succession—

You suddenly remembered your mother's tale and the young man, finding it funny how seemingly, a talent for writing was certainly not one that was bestowed upon personally by the 'God of wisdom', whomsoever might the deity behind the name be.

Unless, well, Al Haitham was the deity.

You chuckle to yourself at the prospect, impossible, you think to yourself, feather dipping in ink as you continued the verse.

And understanding with the snap of his finger, the thoughts swirling in your mind, Al Haitham smiles to himself contentedly.

Most often, love is found in the most unexpected of places.

Better it was that way—he laughs to himself as he thinks that.

Confessions of truth and identity would be a tough challenge, but what was love, if not a challenge itself?

Nonetheless, for now, your smile was more than enough for him.

taglist : @astrothingsiwillneed, @dollhwa, @franxx-law, @lovingami, @mxyarylla, @ichorstainedskin, @nezukoo-channn, @arisaturn, @moodybluesrequiem80, @sleepy-waffle, @angel-of-requiem, @maleniaswife, @imgonnacrackarib, @flilou02, @beloved-brynn, @confusedo-17, @3443652, @wolfiafuntime, @meimeimeirin, @dottoresil, @sleepy-waffle, @floraldresvi, @ayra2452008, @peachiimcha, @dumb-gemini, @sh1-j1m4, @sangoqueenkoko, @kokosheep, @apwing @cheezzyshhh @willbedecided, @darktypedreams, @urlocalheizousimp @neuviloved @stormyenglish-23 @ishiyii @reixtsu @scaranthropy @caffeineinjelly @mellowberrie

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #al haitham #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham #al haitham x y/n #al haitham x reader #al haitham x you #genshin alhaitham #al haitham fluff #🔱of thought and birth divine

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sonder-paradise · 2 years

Text

𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐈𝐈 — 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭

◊ characters. diluc, childe, kaeya, zhongli, gn!reader

◊ genre. fluff, flustered boys bc i can (again)

— 𝐃𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐜 𝐑𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐫

honestly, it doesn’t take much for him to go a little red. he’s not exactly used to someone singing his praises so enthusiastically. he’s relaxing, for once. diluc finds comfort in your voice. it chatters on about the most mundane and ordinary things but it’s always so peaceful.

he zones out for a moment, admiring your features glowing under the warmth of the crackling fireplace. it’s not until you start talking about someone that he starts paying attention again. “and he’s just so handsome and admirable. i honestly don’t know what i’m going to do.”

diluc’s expression grows rather surprised as he tries remembering who you’re referring to. “he’s got such pretty red hair and very striking eyes,” you continue, smiling lovingly at him. at the description, diluc realizes you are referring to him of all people.

“oh? are you paying attention now? or shall i go on?” you remark, a playful grin decorating your lips. he can feel his face heat and it’s definitely not from the fireplace. “what? no of course not!” he exclaims, placing a gloved hand over his expression. how silly of him.

— 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞

it's the gentle moments when the world isn't looking that childe found himself vulnerable in front of you. you hold him after long days and he melts in your embrace oh so easily. small bits and pieces of laughter spill in between the two of you and he feels the weights lifting from him.

and as the night wanes, he’s sleepily resting his head against your chest and holding onto you tightly. he feels you stroke his hair back and just that simple action has his heart beating wildly. he can feel it thudding against his own chest and childe presses a gentle kiss to your collarbone.

“sweet dreams,” he whispers. you hum an answer tiredly, “love you, ajax.” the sweet sound of his name from your lips has him so utterly soft. it has him reeling in the mind and his heart doing subtle loop-de-loops. forget sleep, he can feel his face glowing in a flustered deep red. the tips of his ears tint with a gentle pink. he buries himself further into your chest, praying you haven't noticed his predicament.

despite his flushed cheeks, he looks up at you with an expression of awe. “say it again, sweetheart?” you chuckle softly, playing dumb. “say what again?” “my name. say it one more time for me.”

— 𝐊𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐚 𝐀𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡

longing is the most kaeya feels when you’re away. he finds himself immersed in silly daydreams and attempting not to glance out the window every other second. honestly he’s not used to feeling this way towards anyone.

he finds himself wandering into your shared room, taking in the silence of your invisible presence. it's light and airy; he feels as though he might finally sleep peacefully with the scent of your shampoo drifting through the misty dusk. kaeya lays down on your side of the bed, perhaps indulging in his longing a little too long.

"kae... ya?" you pause in the middle of his name, spotting your lover sleeping soundly on your side of the bed. your pillow is tucked in his arms, holding it gently. your return seems to have eluded his mind, but you lean down to admire his pretty features. your presence must have awoken him as well as he stirs to life in a daze.

he whispers your name, still resurrecting himself from his slumber. "i miss you so much. when are you coming home?" he murmurs, resting a hand on your cheek. you smile, kissing the inside of his palm. "i am home." he blinks once, twice, three times and suddenly he finds himself utterly flustered with himself. his eyes grow wide and he retracts his hand to hide his embarrassment. "i-i see... welcome home, my love."

— 𝐙𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢

basking in the shade during the summer sun was truly a pleasure for the two of you. zhongli sips his tea quietly, admiring the subtle beauty of the vast region he had come to create. as per usual, you are by his side. and honestly, he wouldn't have it any other way. "oh, there's a leaf in your hair," you say, reaching up to rid him of the peculiar object.

he leans down slightly, allowing you to do as you please. "hmm, do you mind if i fix your hair?" you suggest, stroking his bangs fondly. zhongli shakes his head. "not at all." the smile on your face is all his needs when you move behind him, taking his hair out of its usual tie and smoothing it out with your fingers.

zhongli admires your touch, noting the way your fingers run through his hair and barely graze his neck. the feeling is rather ticklish and he finds himself jerking in and out of relaxation from it. "almost done," you murmur. in spite of himself, his cheeks grow rosy from the intimacy. rarely did he feel this vulnerable with someone. "take your time."

yet, he relished in the serenity of the moment. though he was rather thankful for the fact you were behind him as he hid the small, growing smile behind the rim of his teacup. not that he noticed you could see the tinge of pink growing on the tips of his ears.

Taglist: @xo-cuteplosion-xo @ik8 @nonsense-corner @ireallylikehamsters @cross-crye

Wanna join my taglist? Comment under this post!

#[🖋] writing #diluc x you #diluc x reader #diluc fluff #childe x reader #childe x y/n #tartaglia x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya fluff #kaeya x gender neutral reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #genshin zhongli #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact drabbles

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anyca786 · 11 days

Text

Jimmy Kimmel Live

Y/n! Actress x Sebastian Stan (+ Chris Evans, Anthony Mackie and Paul Rudd)

A/N : Inspired by the Jimmy Kimmel Live interview during Captain America: Civil War (8years ago)

The lights dim in the studio, and a booming voiceover fills the air. On the screen, a montage explodes – Captain America’s shield clashes with Iron Man’s repulsor blasts, Black Widow flips through the air, and heroes stand divided. The title card blazes: Captain America: Civil War.

Thunderous applause erupts as the lights return to a smiling Jimmy Kimmel. “Welcome back to Jimmy Kimmel Live! Tonight, we have a super-powered group joining us. Give it up for Chris Evans, Sebastian Stan, Anthony Mackie, Paul Rudd, and the lovely Y/n!”

The five actors walk out, waving and soaking in the cheers. Jimmy throws them some playful jabs, then dives into the questions.

“Alright, let’s test your knowledge of each other. Chris has memorized all the songs of which Disney musical?”

“Frozen!” Anthony Mackie blurts out, earning laughs.

“Nope,” Chris smiles. “Anyone?”

Paul leans in, “Aladdin?”

Y/n and Sebastian speak at the same time, “Little Mermaid!”

"Yes" Jimmy confirms. The crowd roars with laughter. Chris throws his arm around Y/n.

“This is the kind of chemistry you see on screen, folks,” Paul teases.

“Well,” Chris grins, “Y/n and I might have belted out a few Little Mermaid duets in our trailers.”

"Interesting. Alright, let's move on. Paul's family name was shortened from what?" Jimmy asked.

Anthony jumps in with a goofy grin, “Rud-rud-evan-rudabar?”

The actors erupt in playful chaos, throwing out silly suggestions. Finally, Paul reveals the answer: “Rudnitsy.”

The questions keep flying. Chris nails Anthony’s debut film, and the crowd goes wild. The tension rises as Jimmy reaches Y/n.

“Alright, this might get interesting. Who is y/n's celebrity crush?”

Y/n hides her face, a playful blush creeping up her cheeks.

“Oooh, this is juicy!” Anthony leans forward.

Paul throws out a guess, “Brad Pitt?”

"Nope, try again" Jimmy says with a playful smirk on his face.

Chris and Anthony exchange knowing smirks.

Sebastian tries his luck, “Johnny Depp?”

Y/n shakes her head, even more flustered.

"Maybe I should just say it for you…" Chris teases.

"Please don't!" Y/n says blushing.

Jimmy, sensing the tension, prodded further. "Come on, Chris, spill the tea!"

Chris Evans & Anthony Mackie replied "Sebastian Stan!"

The crowd gasps, then bursts into excited cheers. Sebastian's cheeks match yours in a vibrant shade of red.

He leans towards you, a playful whisper brushing your ear. "Really?"

You nod sheepishly, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "We'll talk about this later," Sebastian murmurs back, a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

"Alright last question, aside from English, what other language does Sebastian speak fluently?

"Romanian!" Y/n replies immediately and the crowd erupts in whistles and applause.

As the show drew to a close, Jimmy unveiled a set of action figures – Captain America, Falcon, Winter Soldier, Ant-Man, and (your superhero name). The audience roared with approval as you held up your miniature self.

"Thank you guys for being here!" Jimmy said, extending a warm hand to all of you.

The cheers continued as you and your fellow Avengers exited the stage, the energy of the night buzzing in your veins.

Part 2 soon

#marvel #marvel fic #sebastian stan x reader #chris evans #anthony mackie #paul rudd #avengers cast

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staar5384 · 8 months

Note

PLEASSEEEE PART 2 OF CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS 🙏 COUNTING ON YOU

champange problems 2

neuvillette x gn!reader

hurt/no comfort - pure angst yet again - implied wriolette - they/them pronouns - light spoilers for 4.1 at the end

you ask and you shall receive! here's the highly request pt. 2! here's pt. 1 for those interested

You weren’t aware how long you had left Fontaine when you returned. After you rejected Neuvillette’s marriage proposal, you disappeared without a word. Guilt and shame ate away at you, and you couldn’t bare to face him after you had humiliated him in front of the entirety of Fontaine.

You took a vacation down to Mondstadt, where you spent your days wandering the vast wilderness and your nights drinking your sorrows away in the taverns. You made friends with a few of the locals in your drunken state. You blubbered and sobbed about how much you missed Neuvillette, and how you regretted throwing him aside the way you did. They all told you the same thing each time; “If you love him so much, go to him.”

After some convincing, and a lot of pondering, that’s exactly what you did. The journey back was excruciatingly long. Each day you weren’t back home trying to reconcile with your lover was another day your heart ached for him.

You had hoped that when you returned, people would have forgotten about the events that took place that night, but you were wrong.

Everyone stared at you as you walked the streets. They threw disgusted looks at you, whispered amongst themselves. It wasn’t undeserved, but it was uncomfortable.

You arrived at your shared home with Neuvillette, unlocking the door, and stepping inside. Adeline, your Melusine made, took notice of your arrival, “You’ve returned,” She said, her voice soft. “It’s been so long. The Monsieur and I have been so worried!”

“I’m sorry to worry you, Adeline,” You gave her a smile. “Speaking of Neuvillette… Is he here?”

She shook her head, “No he’s in a trial right now. Then there is a banquet tonight he’s attending.”

Unsurprising. There was always some sort of event happening thanks to Furina. “Thank you, Adeline.”

“May I ask a question?”

“Of course. What is it?”

“Forgive my intrusion, but why did you say no to the Monsieur?”

You shouldn’t have been so surprised by the question, but it still caught you off guard, “I don’t know. I really don’t.”

You had decided you would find him at the banquet tonight. You dressed up in your finest clothes, then headed for the Opera Epiclese. Just like your walk to your home, this one also consisted of stares and whispers. You kept your head down as you moved along.

The guards outside stared at you for a moment. You weren’t invited, you knew that and they did too, but they didn’t try to stop you.

The building looked just as beautiful as the night you left it. The purple and blue hues were replaced with grays and reds of varying shades. The flowers that once symbolized love were replaced by strings of stones and crystals that shone in the dim lights of the opera house.

You could feel all eyes on you as you walked around. You picked up a drink offered to you by a Melusine. You thank her, looking down inside. It was a purple color, and it smelled almost floral. You took a small sip. It was iced tea. Confusion struck your face. Since when has anyone ever served tea in the Opera Epiclese?

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Furina. She was ascending the stairs with a black haired man in tow. You vaguely recognized him; he stayed down in the Fortress of Meropide. The two were speaking, the man chuckling as she spoke.

Furina turned her attention toward the crowd below her. She glanced out at everyone, scanning the crowd until her eyes locked with yours. They widened, then she nudged the raven haired man. He focused his attention on you, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you.

You felt your body warm in embarrassment. Why did they have to draw so much attention to you?

You placed the half empty glass of tea aside and rushed into another room. The room was fairly empty, only a few people resided in it. You found a place in the corner to tuck yourself into. All you wanted to do was find Neuvillette, but instead you’ve attracted the unwanted attention of every person there, including the Hydro Archon.

It was going to be a long night.

Neuvillette had spent weeks planning this banquet for his friend, Wriothesley. The man had been his rock after you left, and he deserved the recognition for the hard work he did in the Fortress of Meropide.

He looked at himself over and over again in the mirror. Was his hair a mess? Did his face look flushed? He had just finished a trial and had no time to stop at home and wash up, so his appearance felt off.

“Checking yourself out?”

Neuvillette jumped, turning his head to see who was there, “Wriothesley, you startled me.”

Wriothesley leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “Who would have thought I could scare the great Chief Justice?” He chuckled, pushing himself off the wall and approaching Neuvillette.

This gave Neuvillette a chance to look him over. The man was dressed in a deep gray suit with a maroon tie that hung loosely around his neck. The suit shirt hugged around his chest, leaving none of his features to the imagination. “You’re staring, Neuvi.”

Neuvillette’s face turned a deep red, “Ahh yes, sorry. You look good tonight. That’s all.”

Wriothesley laughed, “And so do you. Stop freaking out over it.”

“How did you know?”

“Only a person worried about their appearance stares so deeply into the mirror. Well, except Furina. She does it because she’s a narcissist.”

Neuvillette let out a breathy chuckle, “Oh Wriothesley, be careful. She may hear you.”

As if on cue, Furina burst through the door, “Wriothesley! Did you tell him!”

“Tell me what?” Neuvillette glanced at the man.

“Oh. Right. Umm-”

Furina cut him off before he could speak, “They are here.”

Neuvillette’s heart sunk deep into his chest. A wave of emotion rushed through him. “What?”

“We saw them in the crowd. They were entirely alone, but I think they were looking for you,” Furina replied.

“We can kick them out,” Wriothesley shrugged. “They technically weren’t invited.”

“No,” Neuvillette said. “Let’s not worry about them. This night is not about me. It’s about you, Wriothesley.”

“But how can I enjoy my night if you’re uncomfortable?”

Neuvillette was slightly taken aback by his words. He cleared his throat, shaking his head gently, “I’ll be alright. Let’s get out there and have a good time. I’ll pretend as if they don’t exist.”

Wriothesley and Furina just glanced at each other, before giving in. The three left the room and began to engage with the party.

Wriothesley stayed close to Neuvillette, his hand lingering against his waist, hand, or any other part of Neuvillette’s body. The two were incredibly close, not moving away from each other for longer than necessary.

Furina took notice of this, of course she did, she loved the drama of Neuvillette’s ex being here as she watched what was most likely a blossoming romance.

The night continued on, and so far, Neuvillette had not seen you. Thanks to Wriothesley, he rarely even thought about you being here.

You had been wandering around the opera house in search of Neuvillette. Has the damn place always been so big?

People began to take less notice of you as their attention drifted towards the festivities. You were thankful, as it made your night a lot less stressful.

“Where could he be?” You mumbled to yourself before you saw him across the room. He was seated beside the man from before, and he looked so content.

The two men were chatting and laughing. You saw the man’s hand rested on top of Neuvillette’s, their fingers intertwined with each other.

You stared at them for a moment, unable to process the scene in front of you. Another person was holding onto Neuvillette’s hand, another person was making him smile in ways only you had been able to.

Were you too late?

Wriothesley noticed you first. His grip tightened on Neuvillette’s hand as he stared you down. It was almost as if he was challenging you to act.

Neuvillette noticed the sudden tightness of Wriothesley’s grip, “Is everything okay?” He glanced at him, then in the direction he was looking in. There you were.

Tears were in your eyes as you were unable to fully process the scene in front of you. Time felt like it had stopped and there was nothing but you and the two men in front of you.

Neuvillette rose from his seat, releasing his grip on Wriothesley’s hand. He whispered something to him, then began making his way to you.

As his figure moved closer, you almost ran once again. Your heart hammered in your chest almost painfully, as if trying to beat through your ribcage.

Once he was in front of you, the whole room turned its attention to the scene. Neuvillette cleared his throat and waved his hand, “Let’s go somewhere more private.” You nodded, and the two of you left the room together.

Now you were entirely alone. No guests, no Furina, no random man holding Neuvillette’s hand. The silence was uncomfortable as neither of you knew where to start or what to say.

“Why are you here?” Neuvillette asked, keeping a good distance between you two.

“I,” The words were trapped in your throat. “I’m here for you.”

Neuvillette let out a sad chuckle, “You know, months ago I would have loved to hear those words, but now,” He turned his head away from you. “They mean nothing.”

There was a sharp pain in your chest as he spoke. It felt like dragging a blade through your heart. “Neuvillette, please. I-I’m so sorry,” You tried to move closer, but he raised his hand to motion you to stop.

“Your apologies won’t repair the damage you caused. Do you know what it was like to stand on that stage, watching your lover run away from their heartfelt proposal? Do you know how it felt to become the talk of the city? I was pitied by everyone. I leave my comfort zone to throw a beautiful party, give you an emotional speech in front of so many people, and you not only reject me, but you disappear entirely,” His voice was getting louder, and you could see his hands shaking. “So on top of the heartbreak you caused me, I spent every day and every night worried sick for you. You left without a single word. You could have died and I would have never known. And you only just now feel sorry?”

You could hear the rumbling of thunder from outside, and the sound of rain hitting the roof of the Opera Epiclese. You stood there in silence with your head hung low. Shame, guilt, it was all bubbling inside you.

“Nothing to say?” He said, his voice cracking. You still said nothing in return. He scoffed, running his hand through his hair. “After everything I said, you can’t say a single word.”

“I shouldn’t have rejected you like that. I should have talked to you about my fears. Instead, I ran away like a coward. I spent so much time sulking and feeling sorry for myself, but I couldn’t bring myself to fix the damage I created.”

“And now you want to try? I fixed it myself, so don’t worry. I don’t need your help. Not anymore.”

Tears were falling from your eyes, your face flushing as you cried, “I still love you, Neuvillette.”

“Well, I’m sorry to say I don’t feel the same.” There was a flash of lightning outside, illuminating the empty room. “I suggest you leave. You were not invited here, and do not expect an invitation again,” Then Neuvillette spun around and left.

You watched the door open and close, leaving you alone in the empty room. A minute passed, then another, and two more after that. Your body and mind had completely frozen. The beating of your heart was painfully fast and hard. You silently cried, listening as the rain fell from the sky.

When you finally had the courage to leave the room, you made sure your exit was quick and unnoticed. Rain was pouring from the sky as you left the Opera Epiclese. You knew why it was raining, and now you had to walk back to your once home in your ex lover’s sorrows.

a/n- i feel way less confident in this than the first part, but you requested a part 2, so i had to deliver. i almost went the less angsty route, so maybe i can make an alternate ending that is actually happy. also i tagged everyone who was interested in a pt. 2. i hope that's okay!

taglist- @soggywafle arccanejj erosdevil just-a-fuegoleon-fangirl @heartfatelust

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfic #genshin #genshin fanfiction #genshin fanfic #neuvillette #neuvillete x reader #wriolette #wriothesley #genshin impact angst #genshin angst #neuvillette angst #hurt/no comfort

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mushroomates · 10 months

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the fellowship at the beach:

aragorn: knows exactly where to go for peak waves and sun. it’s not crowded and quite frankly the fellowship is unsure if they’re technically trespassing but it’s a good enough time for them not to care. likes to set up canopies and umbrellas for everyone then disappears for like 2 hours on a walk/hike.

boromir: likes to grill/camp out. he enjoys large bond fires and roasting marshmellows. during the day he likes to do beach volleyball or swim in the ocean, a very physical dude. enjoys activities,,, has to be doing something.

merry: likes to fly kites with boromir on the dunes. not a huge fan of water, enjoys playing games and building large sandcastles. he and pippin like to turn gandalf into a sand mermaid when the can, as well as dig a giant moat with gimli.

pippin: gets sunburnt everytime. has so much sand in his hair. gets it everywhere. is a walking disaster- has lost several hats, sunglasses, beach toys, wallets, keys, phones,,,, everything pippin has in his possession when he comes to the beach he will no longer have when he leaves. this also includes the many stickers, magnets and keychains he swipes from nearby shops for keepsakes. wants to rent a jetski but no one will go with him.

frodo: likes to wade in the water and collect pretty seashells. brings them back to his friends to show them off. finds rocks in all shades and sizes, brings samwell heart shaped rocks as well as any cool colored ones that remind him of sam. gandalf once asked why frodo never brought him any rocks, in which frodo started collecting all grey rocks and bringing them to gandalf. funnily enough, most rocks are some shade of grey, and gandalf got rather sick of pebbles being chucked at him.

sam: has many towels and lots of sunscreen. very prepared with the snacks, brings sandwiches and drinks for everyone! likes to hang out in the shade and walk along the shore. enjoys the touristy shops along the coast, especially likes the salt water taffy and keychains. laughs loudly at all the gimmicky tourist traps,,,, always goes in/falls victim to them.

legolas: is weird about sand,,,,, cannot have it between him and something else. ex: between the shoes, clothing, hair. has to be directly on him or nothing at all (walking barefoot) once they are even within proximity the beach he jumps out immediately charges towards the water. likes to push people in/splash them.

gimli: no shoes no shirt no problem,,, immediately in just swim trunks as soon as they pull up to the parking lot. enjoys building massive sand castles with the hobbits as well as digging deep trenches to trap their compatriots in. they cover it with a towel, someone falls in and nearly breaks their neck- good times.

gandalf: brings a book to read, likes to chill in the shade and listen to the waves. falls asleep more often then not, wakes up barricaded in sand or made into a sand sculpture. will disappear suddenly and come back with ice cream. no one knows where he got it. he does not share or tell anyone where he gets this mysterious ice cream either.

bilbo: is reading with gandalf. he brings some iced tea and good sunglasses and just relaxes. he is a active people watcher, likes to eavesdrop as well as note and speculate on interesting figures. likes to do some light journaling/writing as well.

gollum: is fishing. lurks in the bay and attempts to catch fish with his bare hands, then proceeds to immediately eat them raw. also chases seagulls- will chath and eat those as well. he is, unfortunately, quite successful in this. he is also no longer allowed in or around several public beaches.

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dreamtinblackandwhite · 1 month

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A Dog's Best Friend

chris evans x female!reader summary: Dodger finds his best friend - Chris finds... someone.

note: this is my first fic for Mr. C. Evans :) I'm still going back and forth on if this will be a full series or if it will be a series of one shots but if will for sure have multiple parts! let me know your thoughts and opinions please!

warnings: meet cute, little bit of fluff, Chris falls hard and fast, swearing

word count: 2262

“Come on, Dodger!” I call to my rescue boxer-mutt as he trots back towards me with his skunk toy. Normally, he is very good at fetch but today he continued to be distracted by the golden retriever who was playing near him. I really can’t blame him though, I am equally as distracted by the owner of this dog.

Stop staring, I remind myself as I force my eyes to Dodger again. I kneel down as he gets closer so I can wrestle the toy away. I watch from the corner of my eye as the girl nearby tosses her dogs ball out into the distance; she’s got an arm, that’s for sure.

Dodger’s wet nose bumping into my face was his subtle reminder that I should be looking at him and not anyone else. “Okay, buddy,” I laugh as I stand up. I toss the skunk off in the same direction as before and watch Dodger happily chase after it.

While I wait for Dodger to come back, I easily fall into the enthralling trap this stranger yielded. I wonder if I’d ever seen her hair color on another person before – the sun really catches it perfectly, illuminating the multitude of different hues and shades that dance between each strand. I wonder what she does for work; her outfit didn’t give too much of a hint: blue jeans that were cuffed at the ankle just above a tan pair of boots with a grey-green shirt tucked into the waist with a long tan coat tossed over the top of it all and loosely tied closed at the front. It was a simple outfit, but nice enough in imply she was going somewhere next; unlike my black joggers paired with a grey workout shirt, white running shoes, a green windbreaker, and a Boston Bruins cap.

I watch her kneel down to greet her pup, “this isn’t yours, silly!” She exclaims, tugging at the skunk that hung from his mouth. Wait, skunk? I look down at Dodger now who sat patiently looking up at me with a ball in his mouth, his tail wagging a thousand miles a minute.

I laugh as I gently take the ball from him; he licks my hand in thanks. “You are such a good wing-man, buddy,” I praise with a gentle pat to his head. I stand straight now, tugging my cap a little bit lower over my eyes to hopefully save the awkwardness of her knowing me immediately and flattening out any wrinkles that may have formed in my jacket.

I walk closer to her as she searches the park for the possible skunk owner. Dodger follows happily at my side, his eyes trained to the ball in my hand. “I think our pups got a bit confused,” I open, trying to keep my voice welcoming and charming; I hold the ball up and give my wrist a slight twist.

She blushes immediately and moves to close more distance between the two of us, reaching her hand forward with the skunk. “I’m sorry about that; I’d say he doesn’t do this often, but that would be a lie,” she grins at me as we trade toys. I wet my lips before grinning back at her, her smile was gorgeous. She is gorgeous. Her eyes seemed to carry specks of a thousand different shades in them and were piercing against the sun that had begun to rise. “He’s got a bad habit of stealing.”

I laugh gently and shrug my shoulders, waving off the apology for her dog. “Don’t worry about it,” I reassure, looking down at Dodger at my feet. “I’m sure it was a mutual trade.” I try to control my expression as I glance back to the girl in front of me, my mind racing with a thousand different observations and questions. I think she chews her lip when she was nervous; even now she had the bottom right corner tucked into her teeth, her jaw flexing slightly as her eyes searched mine. Is she a coffee or tea person? She has really pretty eyes. Does she like road trips? Movies at home or in the theatre? God… her eyes.

“Dodger, right?” She asks, a small smirk playing at her lips as she steps back to toss the ball for her dog. My eyes widen by a sliver as a blush creeps over my cheeks, I’ve been made. I should have introduced myself right away, why try to hide it? Now it just seems like I was intentionally hiding from her – I don’t want to hide from her. Does she think it’s weird for me to be who I am? What if she hates my movies and, in turn, me?

“Uh- y-yeah,” I stutter embarrassed as I turn away and toss the toy for Dodger to run after.

“So, you’re Chris Evans’ dog walker, then?” She asks, her voice carrying the smallest glint of teasing. I smirked softly, looking back at her feeling slightly more comfortable after clocking the joke. Maybe my social status didn’t matter to her. That was nice; most people would have thrown a fit by now.

“Evans couldn’t afford my dog-walking fees,” I joke, winking at her. Did you just wink? What the fuck was that? Are you stupid?

She laughs, her chin falling towards her chest and one hand covering her mouth. The sound literally brought goosebumps to my skin and a warm tightness to my chest. I gulp as I try to control the smile on my face. Keep it friendly, not creepy. “I’m Y/N,” she introduces, sticking her hand out for me to shake. Y/N…

I feel my smile grow slightly as I took her hand in mine, giving her a polite handshake. “Chris,” I reply, keeping my voice cool and collected. Should I have let go of her hand already? How long do you normally shake someone’s hand? How long have we been shaking hands? It feels like hours – her skin is so soft and her hand is so small. I don’t want to let go – what is happening to me?!

She dropped her hand to take the ball from her dog again, tossing it off. I squeezed my now empty hand into a fist, containing her warmth to my palm. Calm down, she’s just a stranger in the park… with a beautiful name and beautiful eyes. “If I’m being honest, I recognized Dodger before you,” she explains as I bend down to grab Dodger’s toy and toss it. “So, either you have this whole ‘Clark Kent’ thing down solid or your dog is more famous than you. I’ll let you decide whichever helps you sleep better at night.”

It’s my turn to laugh, hard, my hand cradling my ribs as I do. It felt freeing and relaxed. I took a few deep breaths as I look back at her. “Thank you for that,” I chuckle, “I need to be humbled now and again.” She grinned at me as the dogs trotted back over to us. I knelt down and held my hand out towards her pup. “And, what’s your name?” I asked in a puppy voice as I scratched his ears.

“Oh god,” she mumbled slightly, covering her eyes embarrassed. I look up at her confused, taking the ball and tossing it off before doing the same for Dodger. “I have never been embarrassed about his name before this moment…” she grumbled, giving me a sheepish grin as I stood back up next to her.

“You’ve got me on the edge of my seat, Y/N,” I laugh softly, suddenly feeling anxious for very different reasons. Did she notice how you basically just moaned her name? You are being fucking creepy, dude.

“His name is Thanos,” she grumbles, hiding her face again. I burst out laughing again, leaning forward and resting my hands on my knees. “I didn’t think I’d meet anyone from the MCU when he was a baby!” She defends before starting to laugh herself.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh,” I breath out between chuckles as I try to control myself.

She shook her head at me. “No, please,” she giggles as her hands hide her blushing face again. “It is pretty funny.”

“I guess I’m just disappointed it’s not Rogers or Captain,” I grin at her as the pups came running back to us. “Hi, Thanos!” I cheer, kneeling down to scratch his head again. Dodger, realizing I was busy, went straight to Y/N. She happily bent down to give him so belly rubs before tossing his skunk off – I did the same for Thanos.

“Oh, you’ll just love his brother and sister then…” Y/N mumbles, looking at me embarrassed still.

“What do you mean?” I ask as I straightened up.

“Two cats… Loki and Nebula,” she grins, laughing at herself. Even if I didn’t actually find what she said funny, I’d still be laughing with her. It was contagious, I couldn’t imagine anyone hearing her laugh and not joining in.

Dodger and Thanos returned to our feet quicker this time, yipping at us to stop laughing. “Sorry, guys,” Y/N sighs as she bent down to toss Thanos’ ball. I went to do the same for Dodger but he growled and backed away, wagging his tail as he looks up at Y/N.

“What in the world?” I laugh softly; Y/N bent down and easily took the toy away from him to toss. “Traitor!” I call out as Dodger chased away. “It’s because you’ve got a better arm than me,” I wink again, looking back at Y/N. She blushed and looked down at her feet nervously; she’s adorable when she’s flustered. “So, where are you from?” I ask maybe a little too excitedly.

“What do you mean?” She counters, giving me a pointed look. “I was born and raised here in Boston.” Her serious resolve quickly faded to a grin as she heard the horribly fake accent come from her lips.

“No offense,” I laugh, setting a hand back on my chest to try to comfort my heart that was doing summersaults. “But never do that again.” Always do it – it was adorable.

“Noted,” she chuckles softly. “I am from a super small town in Wisconsin, moved here about a year and a half ago.”

“Ah, Wiz-cahn-sin, eh?” I countered, putting my own midwestern accent into use.

“That’s not fair,” Y/N laughs, playfully pushing my shoulder; I felt the warmth of her skin radiate through my jacket. “It’s part of your job to be able to do accents.”

I smirk at her as I held my hands up defensively. “You’re right,” I admit my defeat happily after seeing her smile. “What’s it like? I have never been to much of the Midwest.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” she smiles, tossing both dogs toys now that Dodger was completely ignoring me. “It’s pretty much just farm land everywhere you look, but the people and weather are pretty similar to Massachusetts. Just take all the history from Boston, Salem, and Plymouth and replace it with red-necks, corn, and beer and it’ll be like a typically Tuesday night for me.”

This woman seems to have quite the knack for making me laugh; I can’t remember the last time I laughed so genuinely with someone, it was nice. “What brought you to Boston, then? Needed a break from the red-necks?” I guess with a small smirk.

“Always need a break from the red-necks,” she grins at me. “I got a job at Tufin as a senior project manager for their cybersecurity department. It took me a bit farther from my family than I had planned, but it’s been a welcome change.” I study her facial expression for a moment, she looked sad but not in a bad way. She missed her family, I think.

“It must be hard, being so far away from them,” I glance at her as she tossed the ball for Thanos before he got distracted by wrestling with Dodger playfully. “Do you get home to see them a lot?” Take it slow, play it cool…

“Not really,” she shrugged her shoulders with a sad smile now. “It’s hard to get off work, and the flights aren’t exactly cheap.” She anxiously ran a hand through her hair again. “Holiday’s and special occasions mostly.”

Hug her. Wait, no! Don’t do that, that’s creepy. Fuck, how can I comfort her? Dodger happily rolled onto his back as Y/N scratched his stomach, Thanos was off in the distance chasing a few butterflies. A soft ring echoed from her watch, she frowns as she shut it off.

“Fuck, it’s already 8:30…” she mumbles; I look around anxiously, zipping my coat up and tugging my cap lower onto my forehead. Normally, I would have already made it home by now and avoided any extra interactions. “T!” She calls out with two sharp taps to her hip; Thanos came running at the command. “I’m sorry, I have to drop him off at home before work.” She looked at me apologetically, her smile didn’t reach her eyes fast enough to hide her disappointment.

I felt a pang at my heart as we both clipped the dog’s leashes onto their collars. “Of course,” I smile at her to reassure her, though I doubted it hid my disappointment either. “It was really nice to meet you, Y/N.” Y/N…

“It was nice to meet you too, Chris,” she grinned before turning away and clicking her tongue for Thanos to follow. Wait, don’t go…

“Y/N!” I called out before she got too far away. “I’ll be back here at 7 tomorrow, if you – I mean, uhm…” I stuttered, fuck, fuck, fuck.

She giggled softly and bit her lip, god how beautiful. “I will see you tomorrow then, Chris.”

#chris evans au #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans #chris evans fanfic #chris evans x you #chris evans x female reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fluff #a dogs best friend

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yoonsdoll · 3 months

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apricity - hjs

content : bf!shua x f!reader ; fluff n romance ; 0.5k words warnings : none i think ?? just the use of 'baby' as a petname - apricity : the warmth of the sun in winter . an : oki truth be told i have had zero motivation to do anything so i needed to write something cute to slowly get back into writing again , this isnt proofread or anything like that :')

hong joshua's actions are like apricity. his smile comforting you on the saddest days and his hugs warming you up in a few seconds - seconds that felt like hours when he held you in his arms, cooing at you patiently as you explained your thoughts and worries. truth be told, you loved it that way, and he did too. he loved the way your nose scrunched up as he beckoned you towards him ; he loved how you could tell him all about your shitty co-workers or friend that told you something so stupid that it managed to ruin your day.

he remembers that you once told him something about 'bothering him with your troubles.' he never heard such ridiculous words. he loved listening to you talk for hours, even if it was just about how your toast was a little too burnt that morning, so burnt infact that it annoyed you. he loved it so much because he loved you.

hong joshua's words are apricity. you love the way he writes his feelings down on paper at night when he misses you, just to call you in the morning and read it out to you. he knows you seem to think that he doesn't realise how his random 'i love you' s really matter to you - but he sees the way your eyes sparkle and how your cheek turn a shade pinker, which is why he says it daily.

even when you feel insecure about the relationship, he never screams, he never even gets mad. he talks it out with you as softly as he can. 'don't be silly. i don't even care for other girls. there will never be another you.' ; 'no one can understand the love i have for you, not even you.' and your favourite, 'baby, i go to sleep every night hoping to dream of you.'

hong joshua's acts of service remind you of apricity. his love shown clearly through the tea made and brought to you on chilly mornings and the heated blanket waiting for you on the couch for when you got back home. his favourite thing being making you a delicious lunchbox for work before he leaves, and him noticing it sitting empty by the kitchen sink, ready for the next morning.

even his 'random' dates - which he truthfully took the whole day prior planning - were warm like the sun on a winter day. it was impressive, really ; the way he could keep a smile on your face the whole day by holding your hand as you walked through the beach and how he packed an extra sweater incase you got cold while playing with him in the snow.

hong joshua is apricity. from the way his eyes smile along with his mouth to the way he carefully thinks before speaking around anyone. hong joshua is apricity because he will always be the one you think of when you feel a familiar heat from the sun on a cold day - melting away the ice, just as he melts your troubles and moulds them into love.

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arafilez · 3 months

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☆ ⼂ LOVE, TAILORED ﹗two

ꔫㅤㅤ ❜[ fashion designer khj x ceo fem!reader ] ㅤ⋆ ㅤfluff, crack, e2l 𓏧 for the company assets you have to work with solo designer kim hongjoong. even if it meant him annoying you at every step. ㅤ warnings flirting ㅤ﹢ㅤ3k wc ꔫㅤㅤ ❜part one . two . three

“Did he just call you, darling?” you jump at the voice behind you as soon as you leave the room.

You slowly turn around, praying and hoping it is not one of your employees but you are met with a tall man wearing round glasses. His hair is brown-black with blue shades at the ends and honestly, it suits him well.

Your eyes form an obvious question mark as he grins lightly offering his hand and says, “Hi, I am Song Mingi, Joongie’s assistant and friend.”

“Joongie?” you question him as he slightly racks his head not understanding why you are so lost, before realising his own mistake.

“Oh I meant Mr. Kim,” he clarifies as you nod your head rapidly and shake his hand. He offers a light smile before asking again, “The ‘darling’ matter?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, your Mr. Kim has a habit of flirting as you already know probably,” you reply with an easy-going smile. Mingi looks like a soft person with all that height which you find very endearing.

“I guess so,” he replies quietly before bowing as you bow back and he takes his leave inside the room where Hongjoong is.

You bit your lips trying to resist a smile as you walk back slowly towards your own office.

Mingi narrows his eyes and enters the room to assist Hongjoong keeping a mental note to ask when he has ever flirted with anyone that deeply. He forgets.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ————

“What’s got you giggling so much like a teenager?” Seonghwa groans as you roll your eyes. If he wasn’t your friend from college you would never have his nagging ass around. Okay, maybe his organising and cleaning abilities are like yours too. Overly frantic!

“Did you know Kim has a sexy but cutie assistant?” you ask him as he narrows your eyes at you.

“No, I didn’t, is this because of him?” he asks pointing at your smiley face.

“Maybe,” you sang lightly, pushing yourself back into the chair as Seonghwa let out another sigh.

Your happiness is short-lived as your office door swings open and Hongjoong walks in with some sheets of paper in his hand. You abruptly pull your giggling self up and sit straight, staring at him with daggers in your eyes.

“Have you ever heard of, oh I don’t know, knocking?” you scream the last part of the sentence. Nonchalantly removing his beret, he put it down on your table before thrusting his sheets towards you.

“Zip it, princess, you weren’t doing anything highly confidential,” he replies.

“How do you know that?” you retort, your mind fogging with clouds of anger at the pet name. Princess, darling, what’s next sweetheart? You are getting extremely impatient at this man now.

Seonghwa pops a biscuit in his mouth which he had stolen from the tea that was served to you and watches the increasing banter amusingly unfold between the two of you.

“I know because your room blinder is up, princess,” he replies smirking as a horrifying look crosses your face. Your blinders are up, that means-

“Yes, I saw you kicking your feet in the air and giggling like a teenage girl around her crush,” he deadpans as you groan, slumping your head back down on the table.

Luckily for you, Hongjoong doesn’t further probe into the topic, except throwing an amused smile your way. He clears his throat lightly and says, “Those papers contain the designs I have made, ask your models if they are comfortable with wearing them.”

You look up, scrunching your eyebrows at him as he gives you a non-plus look on his face. You look down at the papers with his words replaying in your mind. No designer has ever cared for what the models want, let alone asking them after making designs.

“Wait, you made these in a week?” you quiz looking at the eleven sheets of paper as he shrugs but you continue, “And I think you counted wrong, there are ten models, four male and six female.” Your eyes stick to a design inside that was an upgraded version of the gown you had gawked at on the first day he came. The colour also is changed to lilac from baby blue.

“Oh, my mistake,” he says swiftly and you nod, looking at the other designs. The way he had made the bold designs look strikingly different and the softer designs look oddly extraordinary using elements from various places made you speechless.

“You’re talented as hell,” you whisper out accidentally and then hope and pray he didn’t catch that or else the teasing for the next one and a half months will be endless.

“What was that again?” he asks playfully as you scoff biting back the smile and trying to hit your face.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ————

Photoshoot days make you extremely nervous. What if a model falls sick? What if a light breaks down? What if even one camera starts to malfunction? And the worst fear of all, what if the outfit design gets ruined?

It makes you more nervous than models and you have absolutely no idea why. Seonghwa had once said it was because you knew how once when the company under your dad almost went bankrupt because a minister’s daughter threatened to sue the company for molestation accusations. Even though the truth was that she was the one flirting around, the fear on your dad’s face that day showed you how the world works.

You tap your feet impatiently waiting for the shoot to start and soon you feel another presence beside you. Seonghwa was talking with the photographers in front and Hongjoong was out there fixing and checking the model’s outfit for the last time. You looked beside you and saw the handsome man, Song Mingi standing.

“Oh hello,” you greet bowing and he bows back and your mind flashes back to the first meeting with Hongjoong where he had thrown all formalities out the window.

“Are you okay? Your hands are shaking badly and you are fidgeting,” Mingi says his deep voice messing up your brain.

“Yeah,” you breathe out throwing a smile his way and looking in his eyes. Beautiful hair, brown eyes, tall, deep voice, respectful, and observant nature- could he be any more perfect? How did a devil like Hongjoong end up having an angel for his personal assistant?

The love song playing in your head suddenly made a screeching record sound as Hongjoong’s annoying tone cut through the air, “Mingi can you please check the models whilst I keep notes from here beside the director and our very beautiful CEO- nim?”

You take in a sharp breath as you see Mingi leaving and before you could even open your mouth he whispers, “Damn, if you stare at him with those heart eyes, his girlfriend will kill you.”

“He has a girlfriend?” you say it louder than you expect, looking at him in shock and unfortunately for you, a few of the sound and light officials look at you with questioning eyes.

You give them a small smile gaining back your cool before looking at a smirking Hongjoong saying, “You are not very subtle, are you?”

“Oh shut the fuck up,” you grit out and turned to look at the photoshoot that started already.

“Make me,” Hongjoong teases as you glare at him with fire in your eyes. Shouldn’t he be paying attention to the models? Or does he trust Mingi that much, yes, of course, everyone should trust that beautiful boy, and no, he has a girlfriend, you have to stop thinking about him.

“Look at that, I am so handsome that you can’t keep your eyes off me,” Hongjoong grins as you gasp. How dare he?

“In your dreams, Kim,”

“I dream about a lot of things.”

“Oh god.”

“You say that in my dreams too.”

You whip your head at him watching his lopsided smile and scoff. “Seriously?” you ask with disbelief evident in your face. Your ears felt like burning at the outrageous comment he just made. Like it has been a month only.

“Control your hormones, Kim, you ain’t a teen,” you reply as he cocks his eyebrows at you.

Slowly he leans in as you widen your eyes and try to go back but the camera stand leg hits your shoe. He looks into your eyes once before whispering, “Trust me, I am controlling myself a lot.”

He moves away, eyes fixing on the monitoring screen as you look into the distance. Your breath still feels erratic, his words repeating in your brain like some kind of spell. In all that whispering you believe he had glanced at your lips for just a fraction of a second, but surely you were tripping.

Not in this universe did Kim Hongjoong look at your lips.

And you definitely did not like that jerk of a human.

You did not.

Even if he makes you feel breathless.

You did not. Maybe it’s a thing that will pass. He just looked good today. Maybe.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ————

After the shooting day, your schedules with Hongjoong had increased. The pictures have been released and blown up instantly. Various private and public interviews, press conferences, and media highlights kept the two of you busy. Most of the conferences had you two in the centre, speaking from both sides of the story.

Seonghwa made you write the words you will say under his surveillance because according to him you were “too stubborn” and “will say shit indirectly about Hongjoong” in your speech if he did not keep it under check.

You would not go that far you assured him, but he just would not trust you. Such a mom.

The same speech you repeated over and over again, changing the way of saying it in every interview. The words you had written weren’t a lie at all. You did find him talented and his designs out of the box but that fed his ego way too much.

He would ask you a question in every interview for example, “Oh you found that thing I used different, I see” or a “Well, of course, you liked it” and indulge in what the interviews called ‘playful banter’ as you would give him murderous look and he would just smile.

The week had ended quickly and you knew how the next few weeks you had to be busy again for the upcoming show and ramp-walk in Paris. You huff out a short breath as you silently clean up your office desk. Today's interview took an increasingly long time, and you just want to go home and dip yourself in a hot bath.

You zip up the chain of your handbag and redo the lipstick a bit before checking the mirror and applying some foundation under your eyes. You never know where cameras are and you certainly don’t want to be caught in any other state other than the “always fresh” or else articles are just a picture away.

Suddenly you hear a slight knock and think it is the security before letting out a forced but cheerful, “Come in.”

You turn around as your eyes meet the person you didn’t know could knock. “Did you learn how to knock? Also, I am tired, why are you here now?” you groan as looks at you with one eyebrow raised.

“Chill, I just wanted to drop by, I finished the paperwork and saw your light was on,” he replies as you shake your head.

“Always keeping a lookout for me or what?” you joke and he doesn’t answer choosing to smile instead and look sideways.

"I did think you would get me a binder for designing the clothes too?" Hongjoong asks and cheekily smiles before adding, "Darling." You roll your eyes at him, a stark contrast coming to your usual composed and calm behaviour as a CEO, not giving him the satisfaction of an answer.

You turn around in your heels ready to leave when he calls out, "Close the drawer on your left, darling."

Oh for fu- heaven's sake!

"Don't call me that," you nearly snarl at him and an innocent-looking smile etch his face as he comes closer to you and you stare back wishing your eyes could bore holes in his body.

He is simply insufferable.

"But you like it, when I call you that," his tone hints at light mocking as he continues, "Loosens up your uptight behaviour." You gasp at him feeling a bit offended and whisper out, "I hate you."

"Do you now?" he presses his lips together, loving how you are riling up. He has always loved to rile you up, balancing his comments well so that they don't become offensive but do tease you and he has been having an excellent time doing it.

He has a pretty face, your mind registers and your eyes lock with him, silently agreeing with your mind. He does have it, with his long lashes, two-toned hair falling on his forehead and soft lip- What is wrong with you?

You visibly shake out of your trance when you realise how close you and Hongjoong have come while talking.

Hongjoong's breath traces on your face and the room falls quiet with silent anticipation and even though your eye might be playing tricks but you did notice him steal a quick glance at your lips before looking up at your eyes again. Your breath feels slow and your eyes roam over his face and the moment feels like forever and somewhere in the back of your mind you wish it does.

The trance is broken as Hongjoong's phone rings and he jerks muttering a silent curse before moving away and picking it up while you widen your eyes and scurry out of the room.

What the hell just happened?

You pick up your bag and he turns around, walking out the door while you lock your office door since Seonghwa left early. You both had a quiet elevator ride, his familiar deodorant filling up the closed space. Neither of you talk nor would look at each other.

You feel thankful about it because god knows what you have spewed if you did. Walking outside you fish out your phone to book a cab while he takes out his keys.

“Woah, how did Miss Organised forget her car keys?” he giggles as you look at him glaring playfully. Of course, he is back to normal.

“I didn’t forget it, I gave it to my cousin earlier who wanted to impress a girl,” you breathe out as you remember his pleading face and promise to bring you as his plus one to a football match he is invited to.

Not that you can’t buy your own tickets, but going for free is always a different kind of fun.

“That is so old-school,” Hongjoong scoffs as you let out a laugh.

“Maybe, but he is eighteen, so I let him be,” you grin and then look back at your phone to see several car symbols roaming around the location.

“Well, I will drop you off,” Hongjoong voices out before he can stop himself and he is himself surprised when your head whips towards him.

“What if you kill me and dump me somewhere? I can’t trust you,” you gasp dramatically and he rolls his eyes.

“Please, if I wanted to kill you, I would have done it the day you hogged up half my pudding in the changing room,” he reasons.

“I was hungry and it was not half,” you whine as he stares at you.

“It was half, and no, do not say the piece between quarter and half, ‘cause it was half,” he shut you up raising his fingers and putting them on your parted lips.

He stares at your figure which is only slightly shorter than him as you stare back before he coughs and pulls his hands back and you look away licking your lips.

“Do you want the lift or not?” he asks again after a few seconds as you decide there is no harm in accepting help from him anyway. So you nod your head to a yes and you both head towards his car.

The car ride is mostly silent, a soft Lany song playing from the radio as you look out at the city lights lighting up the way. You felt them glittering the highway as Hongjoong followed the route you had explained earlier.

You look back at Hongjoong driving, the wind hitting his parted hair and the white part shining lightly under the streetlights. Okay, maybe he did make that work well. You see he has changed, probably in his office, you figured, and was just wearing a simple hoodie over the same jeans.

“Can’t take your eyes off me?” Hongjoong teases you without even glancing and you narrow your eyes at him before looking away as he giggles lightly.

“Do you ever stop talking?” you retort and he steals a quick glance at you before eyeing the road again.

“Do you ever stop being uptight?” he asks.

“Yes, sometimes I just want to leave all these and drive away anywhere my mind takes me to,” you sigh looking away and seeing the blinking traffic lights.

“I thought you didn’t like being spontaneous,” he adds on, though his tone had become increasingly softer compared to the earlier teasing and you look down at your hands.

“It’s not that easy, you know?” you reply as he hums lowly, keeping his eyes fixed on the road.

After some moments of quiet pondering you look at him. You felt your brain function abnormally as you couldn’t help but find him ethereal as the orange streetlights lightened up his face. Maybe it was just the sleep deprivation that made your heart beat faster and let your eyes linger long on his side profile and his eyes that were trained on the road ahead.

Suddenly you say, “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

ꔫㅤㅤ ❜ [ ara's notes ] ㅤ⋆ ㅤidea credit to @iwishiwasrichasfuck. banner made by @/DathanHamen in wattpad. loving it rn lolol .ꔫㅤㅤ ❜ [ taglist ] ㅤ⋆ ㅤ@haneagerr @tunaasan @stellarlune-love @jeonghanfr @soocore @chaotic-floral @loveateezㅤmain mlistㅤ atz listㅤ navi

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skyward-floored · 10 months

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Pup

I was looking through my fics since ao3 is back up, and realized I never put this one on tumblr?? A crime. But here it is now. Bapy Twi and protective Hero’s Shade Time for your reading pleasure :)

Ao3 link

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There’s a child crying.

A sharp golden ear pricks as the sound of it flits past, soft cries interspersed with hiccups that are desperately trying to be muffled. It’s a fair distance away, the wind carrying the sound of it through the forest, and the ear’s owner glances around and twitches his other ear as the sound continues.

There shouldn’t be anyone in this part of the woods.

A frown tugs his mouth, as much as it can in the form he’s currently in. He’d felt he’d be needed soon in the land of the living, the cure for his spirit’s restlessness drawing nearer by the day, so he’d drawn closer to the kingdom he’d once been the hero of, settling into the form of a divine beast as he’d padded through the woods, waiting and watching.

And then the crying had begun.

He raises his head, his ears flicking, and listens intently, following the quiet sounds towards their origin. Brambles tug his golden fur, but he pulls his way past the thickets, certain that if his hearing wasn’t so sensitive, he likely wouldn’t have heard the child at all.

He hasn’t been walking for long when the crying abruptly goes quiet, cutting off with a fearful whimper. He freezes, sharply pricking his ears before lowering his nose to the ground instead.

He filters out the smells of the forest, ignoring the fresh plants and musky scents of other beasts, searching instead for that of a child. It takes a moment, but a soft, young scent finally wafts into his nostrils, hints of pine and soft hay spiked with fear throughout it... but there’s something else making up the scent of the child that makes him start.

A faint musk of horses, and milk too.

A scent he knows intimately.

He quickly finds the direction where the scent of the child is coming most strongly from, and takes off at an even faster pace than before. The crying had concerned him, but the absence of it worries him even further, and the realization of who this child must be has him trotting rapidly between the trees.

All of a sudden a cry rings out, sharp with fear, and he bolts, paws pounding against dirt and moss alike.

He nearly trips on the roots that stick up from the ground, and mud tries to slip him up, but he ignores them all and runs even quicker, grateful for his long, powerful legs. His fur stands on end as he suddenly enters a clearing, and the reek of monsters hits his nose, but the beasts aren’t what he focuses on.

He only has eyes for the small child huddled on the opposite side of the clearing from him.

The boy can’t be older than two, dirty brownish-blonde hair brushing his face, blue-grey eyes widened with fear. Tears shine in his eyes, and he’s trembling where he’s cornered solidly against a large tree. The sight of him is almost entirely blocked off by monsters, all with weapons drawn and malicious grins twisting their already grotesque faces even further.

But what most sets his hackles rising and a growl rumbling through his chest, is the sight of the tip of a blood-red blade pointed at the child’s neck, held by a foe the golden wolf knows well.

A Shadow.

He growls, and the shifting darkness turns, glancing towards him with a startled look in his eye. But the emotion is quickly smothered, replaced instead with an amused smirk.

“Now this is a pleasant surprise,” he remarks nonchalantly, as if he’d suddenly dropped by for tea rather than found him about to murder a young child in the middle of the woods. “You’re looking quite a bit older than last I saw you. But I suppose regret does weigh a man down, doesn’t it?”

He lets out a deeper growl in response, and the Shadow chuckles.

The darkness making him up abruptly shifts, settling into something less formless. A broad form with a pelt draped across the shoulders slips into view, a normally kind face twisted into a smirk. Tattoos glowing a faint red as bangs brush across his forehead, and the golden wolf almost takes a step back at the familiar face now looking at him.

But he checks himself, standing his ground with a snarl.

“Perhaps it was forward of me, but I went ahead and introduced myself to your descendant,” the shadow says, smiling down at the young boy he’s still pointing his sword at. The child shrinks away, and he laughs again. “I must admit, I don’t see much of a resemblance.”

He suddenly dips down and snatches the boy up by his tunic’s collar, eliciting a startled cry from the child.

“Take a good look at what you become, Link,” he says in a low voice, ignoring the boy’s struggling. “Because this will soon be a future that doesn’t exist.”

He draws his blade up again, pressing it to the child’s throat.

Link whimpers and the golden wolf grows dangerously, but he’s unable to do anything without risking his descendant’s life. There are simply too many weapons pointed his way, things that could go wrong, and the wolf darts his eye around for an opening.

“It’ll be quite fascinating to see what happens to this time period without you to save it,” the Shadow says mildly, teasing the blade closer. “Eternal Twilight sounds rather intriguing to me. I wonder what will become of Hyrule?”

He glances back at the wolf, who feels desperation start to sink into his chest.

“What do you think, Hero of Time?” the Shadow hums, and the golden wolf feels his heart clench when the red blade draws a single bead of blood from the boy’s throat. “A snap of the neck, or a sword through the chest? I’ll let you decide.”

He lets out a fearsome snarl, blood roaring in his ears.

The Hero of Twilight cannot die now, he is too important a player in future events, too important to the fate of Hyrule. He plays an integral role in history, and killing him now would damage the flow of time irreparably, both in the Twilight invasion and later in their quest to take down the Shadow.

Not to mention the fact that this is his descendant, the only living remains of his family, of his wife, of his children—

Twilight cannot die now.

The Shadow waits for him to make a move with a smug grin, certainly expecting him to try something. The wolf recognizes the look in his eyes though, and knows that if he so much as takes a step in the wrong direction his descendant will be dead before he can even think about attacking.

He glares at the Shadow as a terrified tear escapes down Link’s cheek, feet burning with the desire to get the child out of his clutches and somewhere safe. But the darkness only smiles at him, a satisfied look in his eye as his descendant continues to struggle.

It’s the look of someone who believes he’s won.

And the thing is, he likely would have too, if not for the fact that the hand of the child in his grasp suddenly begins to glow.

Blindingly.

The boy’s hand flashes, and the shadow shouts in surprise and drops him. It’s the only opening the golden wolf needs to leap forward at the nearest monster, tearing it’s throat out without any provocation. The beast lets out barely a gurgle as it falls, and the wolf leaps at another, tearing through the group that stands in his way. It doesn’t take him long to fight his way to the middle, and he leaps forward, standing protectively over his descendant.

Their Shadow hisses in anger, and the golden wolf matches it with a growl of his own, the two taking stock of each other.

He can hear Link’s heart thudding nearly out of his tiny chest behind him, and glances back at him just once, taking in the tear-stained cheeks and trickle of blood on his neck. Then he turns his attention back on his old foe, who should be long gone in this era of history.

“Obviously I should have gone after you first,” the Shadow snarls, eyes blazing. “I’ll kill you both, Hero of Time, and I’ll make you watch as I rip your descendant to pieces in front of you.”

Instead of replying, the golden wolf launches himself at the Shadow’s throat.

The movement is startling enough that his teeth connect, though not as solidly as he would’ve liked. He bites as deep into the thick, dark magic that makes up his foe as he can, ignoring the familiar visage the Shadow is still wearing, and the darkness shrieks.

He lurches backwards from him, black blood spraying down his front as he swings his sword, and the golden wolf goes to attack again despite the stinging cut now marring his cheek.

He fights with a ferocity he usually doesn’t give into, claws gouging and teeth snapping as he protects the child behind him. The Shadow is no match for one as skilled as he, even with his tricks and skills of his own, and soon the golden wolf is standing above him, shadowy form barely held together.

Black blood seeps into the forest floor, and while the golden wolf sports a few injuries himself, none are overtly dangerous. Blood trickles down his snout as he steps onto the Shadow’s chest, and he levels the darkness with a terrifying glare.

“LEAVE,” he roars, and with one last look of pure hatred, the shadows disperse, sliding back to whence they came.

The golden wolf lets out an exhausted huff, and sits down for just a moment.

He takes stock of himself, and makes sure the clearing is completely void of any more dangers before turning around to look at Link. He pads slowly over to the boy still shaking against the tree, aware that the sight of him will likely be frightening due to the fight he just witnessed. There’s blood in his fur and he’s still panting for breath, but Link merely stares at him, a few tears still rolling down his cheeks.

His blue-grey eyes, so familiar to the wolf, flit across his face, fear still bright in them. But they also shine with an odd curiosity, and wonder along with the terror.

He supposes that makes sense. Twilight always had loved dogs.

The golden wolf stops a few paces from the child, sitting down and allowing him to make the first move. After a long moment, the boy inches a little closer, and reaches out a trembling hand towards him. It alights on his muzzle, and he allows the child to run a few shaking fingers gently down his snout, which seems to convince him he’s not a threat.

The boy then launches himself at the wolf, snuggling tightly into his fur as he begins to cry again.

The golden wolf lets out a soft whine, meant to be comforting, and Link sniffles loudly as he presses his head against his neck. He seems content to stay buried in his fur a while, and the golden wolf breathes in slowly, allowing himself to once again taste the familiarity that lies in his boy’s scent.

The child doesn’t have the exact same scent as home, or even the same as when they traveled together. But it’s there, and as he gently nuzzles the tears from his cheek, that old familiarity both soothes and pains him.

“This is all natural strength!”

“I’ll uh, heh, look into getting him a proper rod...”

“Any chores that need to be taken care of? I’m familiar with farm work.”

“Oh, this means our little ones will have families of their own, and them after— oh I’m getting ahead of myself!”

“Win this fight! Show us that courage can fight in every battle!”

The child lets out a wet hiccup, and the golden wolf curls himself around him, trying to exude as much comfort as possible. The boy crying into his fur shouldn’t have to worry about monsters yet, about Shadows that attempt to destroy and kill, or the hero he’s going to someday become.

He‘s too young to have to worry about his future.

He sits curled around the boy for as long as it takes him to calm down, hiccupy sobs gradually slowing. The sniffles continue, but at some point they’re accompanied by the growling of his stomach.

The wolf pricks his ears at that, and pokes Link with his nose, making him startle a bit and raise his head. The boy wipes some tears from his eyes and looks at him with a confused expression, and the golden wolf gently pushes him towards his back, hoping the young boy will get the hint.

Link takes a minute to realize what he means, but once he does he easily clambers onto his back, still sniffling a little. The wolf feels his hands clutch at the thicker fur by his neck, and he carefully stands up, beginning to trot off through the woods again.

He knows exactly where he needs to take the boy.

The trip to his destination isn’t too far, but between making sure his charge doesn’t fall off his back, and avoiding the occasional monster that dwells in the woods, it takes longer than he’d prefer. By the time he reaches the spirit’s spring, the sun is nearly set and Link is fast asleep on his back, nestled into his fur with little breathy snores escaping him.

The sun is low in the sky, but a few orangey rays of light still shine through the trees, making the water almost glow as the wolf settles down next to it.

As he quietly waits for the boy to stir, a fairy flits by, pausing upon seeing him. She greets him with a chime, which he acknowledges with a nod, and she zips over, jingling worriedly at the injuries he and the child have sustained. He shakes his head at her to tell her not to worry about it, but she spins a few tight circles around them both anyway, and the handful of stinging wounds the golden wolf had been ignoring fade quickly away.

He gives the fairy an grateful look, and she chimes warmly as she continues on her way, disappearing into the fading light.

He watches her go, then gently slides the boy off into a soft patch of grass, pausing when he lets out a murmur in his sleep. But his descendant settles down again, and inwardly he sighs in relief. He settles in next to him to wait, and carefully licks off some of the blood that still stains his neck, going back and forth between cleaning out his fur, and trying to tidy Link up a bit too.

He doesn’t bother keeping an ear out for danger. This spring is a safe place, secure from darkness, and if he’s right about the village that lies only a few hills away, this is where Link is meant to be.

Footsteps suddenly approach from nearby, and the wolf pricks his ears as he listens to them. He gives Link’s cheek one last soft nuzzle, the boy beginning to stir, then slips away to watch from a distance, hidden in the bushes.

Right as he settles in, a young man walks into the spring, blonde hair held back with a bandana. His focus is on the open gate, fiddling with the mechanism that probably locks it once the doors are together, but then Link’s stomach lets out a loud growl.

The man startles and turns, and meets the wide eyes of Link, who is staring at him with an equally surprised look on his face. The man blinks at the sight, and releases the pommel of his sword he’d reflexively grabbed.

“A Hylian?” he murmurs to himself, obviously confused at the sight in front of him.

The man’s eyes take in the dirt coating the child seated in the grass, old tear tracks on his cheeks and dried blood speckling his front. He doesn’t outwardly react, but the wolf sees the confusion in his eyes change to outright concern, and the man gets down to a knee, giving Link a gentle look.

“Where did you come from little one?” the man asks softly, and the wolf watches as Link shrinks down and doesn’t answer, lip quivering.

The man hums, and carefully inches closer, reaching a hand out.

“It’s all right,” he reassures gently, and Link looks up at him, appearing less afraid. “I’m not going to hurt you. Are you hungry? I can get you some food, my wife is making dinner right now.”

Link hesitates, and glances back once at where the golden wolf is hidden with a worried look. He seems to consider, then finally steps closer, reaching out and taking the man’s hand. The man’s face brightens into a smile, and Link relaxes, letting himself be pulled a little closer.

The golden wolf watches in satisfaction as the man, whom he knows is named Rusl, brushes some of the dirt off Link’s face, giving him a reassuring smile.

He doesn’t know the exact tale of how Rusl ends up an adoptive father to Link; Twilight had never gone into much detail when it had come up, and he’d said before even he didn’t remember all the specifics. But he couldn’t have picked a better man to take care of his descendant if he’d tried, and despite him being unable to see it, he gives Rusl a respectful nod.

Rusl then picks up Link, gently and carefully, and settles him into his arms. Link freezes at first, but then sinks into the man’s hold, head resting tiredly on his shoulder.

“Come on little one, you’re safe now,” he says gently, and Link sniffles once, an arm wrapping tightly around Rusl’s neck. “Let’s get you inside, and get some food in you. Then we can try and figure out where you’re from.”

Rusl then stands and looks around the spring one more time, calculating gaze lingering on a paw print sunk into the sand. But it’s getting darker by the second, and nothing else appears out of place, so Rusl leaves the spring, Link tucked securely into his arms.

Time watches them go, single eye glowing silently in the twilight.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu time #lu twillight #twilight princess #...sort of #hero’s shade #rusl #linked universe fanfic #writing from the floor #kid fic I suppose #time line shenanigans!!!#canon typical violence #oh yeah some of those lines don’t belong to me they’re in lu just so we’re clear #I think that’s it #this really is one of my favorite fics I’ve written #I really like how it turned out

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darkestspring · 2 years

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second time is the charm

a/n: welcome to my extremely self indulgent hour. due to my current aegon i love hour, ive decided to create a little something. so i made an oc who takes the place of aegon i’s third wife who reincarnates as alicent’s second daughter then has to go through being obsessed over again and goes “well shit.”

@frankcastleonlyfans this is part one of my special project but im??? so excited, i ended up choosing the name Daella and im so excited for this aaaaaa

Aegon had three sister-wives. He married Visenya for Duty, Rhaenys for Desire and Daella for Love.

He had loved Daella Targaryen so much as to sire several children with her, he feared for her safety just the same.

Purple eyes stared at the words written on the page with a troubled look on her face.

Daella Targaryen, third of her name, daughter of King Viserys I and Queen Alicent, stared up at the tree shading her. She was still attempting to grasp into the fact even thought she was nearing her seventh name day.

She strained to believe why her soul had come back to life. The last thing she recalled was dying in Aegon’s arms, at peace with her fate and then she woke up as a baby in her mother’s arms as she sobbed with relief.

She was almost stillborn, a miracle. The maesters told her.

My special girl. Her mother had cooed at her with softness as she cradled her.

Cursed. Daella had thought.

“Dae?” A voice called out to her as she paused her reminiscing of the past which was long gone. She turned her face to lock eyes with familiar purple eyes.

Ah. Yes, Daella was not an only child. In fact, she was the youngest girl of five children. In this life, she possessed two older brothers, Aegon and Aemond, an older sister, Helaena. And her younger brother, Daeron.

Not to mention her older half-sister, Rhaenyra.

“Dae?” The voice repeated and she shook out of her own thoughts, it would do no good to keep herself locked in her thoughts.

“Aemond.” She smiled at him as she moved over. “Come sit with me and tell me what you wish to say.” Her mind flashed back to times where she would spend afternoons with her head in Visenya’s lap.

Aemond walked closer to her and sat next to her. He studied her for a few minutes in silence before looking down at his hands. “Mother asked me to come get you. For afternoon tea.”

Ah, yes. The afternoon tea. The only time her mother could interrogate her without suspicion. Of course, it wasn’t just her. Her grandfather would insist on hearing her doings. What she read, what she did, who she spoke to.

Exhausting. All too familiar.

“Sister, please don’t love anyone but me.” The familiar voice of her brother, Aegon I reverberated in her ears. She still remembered it so clearly. How he held her wrist as he suffocated her with his affection.

“Let’s stay here for a moment longer.” Daella insisted, drowning from the feeling of deja vu. She moved to rest her head on Aemond’s shoulder, her eyes closing. “Do you ever wish to fly away?”

“Sometimes.” Aemond replied, looking down at his younger sister. “I’d be way too sad if you flew away. I’d die of a broken heart. You make everything okay, sister.”

It was times like these that he and her new elder brother, Aegon II reminded her of Aegon I, Visenya, and Rhaenys.

It wasn’t just them. It would be easier if it was two, this time it was worse. Her half-sister, her uncle, her father, her nephews. The possessiveness and obsession, the paranoia and inclination towards violence where it concerned her, it was everywhere.

It was worse within her uncle Daemon, he had killed her first guard out of jealousy because she had ignored him and talked to her guard.

It was always like that. Too much violence, too much paranoia. Too much exhaustion.

“I heard that Uncle Daemon is flying in today.” Aemond remarked, glancing down at her. “For dinner.”

It was enough to make her stiffen, Daella removed herself from Aemond, much to his disappointment, and got up after grabbing her book.

“We mustn’t be late for tea.” She murmured, her voice quiet and purple eyes glancing at him before walking forward. “Come, big brother.”

Aemond, like he had done since the day she turned two, followed after her with haste.

Daella Targaryen, third of her name, had seen this happen once before and now she only felt dread. She would proceed with caution. Extreme caution for the wellbeing of westeros depended on it.

King Aegon had loved Queen Daella too much, some would say. He loved her like the sun loved the moon, too fervently. It was rumored that Queen Visenya and Queen Rhaenys had loved her just as much.

Some say that you could still feel their love when you walked through Daella’s Garden.

#yandere house of the dragon #yandere aemond targaryen #yandere daemon targaryen #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #yandere aegon targaryen #yandere aegon i targaryen #yandere alicent hightower #yandere hotd #HELLO TO MY SELF INDULGENT HOURS. THIS FIRST PART IS MAINLY AEMOND AND ITS PRETTY TAME AT THIS POINT #BUT IM SO READY FOR THE FUCKERY TO BEGIN #EVERYONE GOES FERAL #E V E R Y O N E #now onto my other requests and drafts

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thebookshoparoundthecorner · 6 months

Text

Sickfic Recs

I'm down for the count with Covid after avoiding it for three years, and thus have been reading/rereading some sickfics that have brought me comfort. I figured while I was at it, I may as well make a list of a few of my favorites, in case anyone else was in need of the same!

In no particular order:

1. A Tree of Life by aknightofthe7kingdoms

Summary:

Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life. Proverbs 13:12 Crowley was certain that he wasn’t ill. He just wasn’t feeling...quite well.

2. La Grippe by LadyWallace

Summary: Aziraphale had watched it take too many lives already, he wasn't going to let it take his friend too. It was lucky then that he just happened to stumble across that deserted barn somewhere in the green fields of France. Sick!Crowley Historical backstory

3. Helped By Angels Unawares by Sodium_Azide

Summary: In the late middle ages, Aziraphale stumbles across a human tragedy that has somehow also affected his demonic adversary, and abruptly understands much more about what he is willing to do for the sake of the Serpent of Eden.

4. Fever Dreams by Lady of Prompts (Aethelflaed)

Summary:

Angels don’t get sick. They can, however, burn through enough of their grace that their corporations begin to malfunction. This happens to Aziraphale far more often than to other angels. Aziraphale gets a fever and Crowley takes care of him!

5. A Matter of Opportunity by PinkPenguinParade

Summary:

The pain danced sharp and angry, lit up ragged nerves. Pulled him on, toward that fuzzy promise of rest. Fifteen feet, maybe? He could do fifteen feet. Could do fifteen feet standing on his head, right?Seven feet.

Four.

He reached out for the door and slapped it once, twice, the wood pulsing against his skinned hands.

6. Such Selfish Prayers by spargelseason

Summary:

Crowley, while still apparently comatose, had somehow managed to wrap himself so thoroughly around Aziraphale on their way up, that any attempt at dropping him onto the mattress without being pulled down as well proved futile.

And hence, quite defeated, Aziraphale found himself lying in a warm tangle of Crowley and blankets. He felt a little stunned.

7. The Words We Say by QixxiQ

Summary: Aziraphale calls Crowley a plague rat one time and it kinda messes him up for roughly 300 years.

8. In Sickness And In Hell by entanglednow

Summary: Crowley picks up something unpleasant while mingling in Hell, and is determined that Aziraphale not see him while he's sick.

9. Temper by TeaCub90

Summary:

‘Angel, I told you not to fuss,’ Crowley croaks, somewhere underneath the blankets – and then he emerges, all tousled hair and black vest, looking both three shades paler than usual and more than a little annoyed at the absolute audacity of the angel for bringing him a hot drink.

‘It’s no bother,’ Aziraphale bats away his irritation, ‘this should be better for you, especially after you threw the Lemsip at the wall. And the hot Ribena.’

10. And In Health by Kalimyre

Summary:

One of the many ways Hell is awful is the demon flu that is always going around the office. Crowley comes down with it, and this time he allows Aziraphale to help.

Indulgent, soft fluffy fic, because Crowley deserves to be taken care of sometimes.

+1 Bonus self rec (cause I'm learning how to get better at doing that)

Our Side by theshoparoundthecorner

Summary:

Aziraphale gets sick. He doesn't know how, and it really shouldn't be possible, but he does and unfortunately there's nothing he can do about it. When he decides he has to cancel his plans to see Crowley, Crowley insists he come over to the bookshop with soup. When he arrives, he looks worse than Aziraphale.

Cue a mysteriously sick Angel and a mysteriously sick Demon, taking care of each other in a London Soho bookshop, drinking tea, eating soup, and having an oddly easy time of it.

Well, at least for the first forty-five minutes.

In which Crowley and Aziraphale see each other at their worst, love each other for it all the more, and learn that being on your own side isn't so bad after all.

Those ten are just a few of my favorites, and I have more that I've been reading and bookmarking, so I might do a second rec soon! Meanwhile, if anyone else has any good omens sickfic recs they want to make (or self recs!!), feel free to do so in the reblogs or comments!

#good omens #good omens fic #good omens fic rec #good omens fic recs #sickfic #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #fic rec #fic recs #i should have been asleep two hours ago but the cough is lingering tonight

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sailtomarina · 9 months

Text

Make it right

Draco spat the blood out of his mouth before wiping his chin clean. Shame burned low in his stomach at the reality of it all: his return to Hogwarts after the trial, his sentencing to ten years of Ministry work following graduation, and his inability to defend himself under the strict guidelines of his probation. Each day brought with it new tortures in the form of taunts, hexes, and fists. The worst part was that he didn’t even try to avoid punishment. He chased it the way his friends used to take potions—often, and in great quantities.

Like, for example, today.

He could have walked away the second class ended, made his way back to the castle and the safety of his dorm room. Instead, he’d watched Hagrid saunter off into the Forbidden woods to gather Acromantula venom, gathering his belongings in as slow a manner as possible.

He’d seen the way Finnegan glared at him throughout the entire duration of class, how he’d exchanged whispers and nods with the other wizards near him.

The jelly-legs jinx hit him just as he made to stand with his bag, sending him sprawling face first into the boulder towards which he faced. He’d turned his head just in time to avoid a broken nose, but the impact on his teeth still cut up the inside of his mouth.

“Why didn’t you move, or at the very least, block that?”

He didn’t have to turn around to recognize that voice. It was the voice he heard in his dreams tinted with screams and piss and so much blood.

It was the voice he most desired and feared. Of anyone, she was the one who most deserved justice against him. He wanted her to kick and scream at him, call him all the terrible names he knew fit.

“Because it’s the very least I can offer them.”

She cast the counterspell, and Draco stood to brush the dirt off his clothes, leaving smears in their wake. He could use a charm to vanish the mess, but he hardly ever used magic outside of classes anymore. The weight of his wand felt like clasping the hand of a stranger now, rather than the comforting friend it had always been in the past.

“Scourgify.”

The marks he’d left behind vanished. He turned around to yell at Granger for her meddling and complete lack of self-preservation. The words never left his lips, instead becoming trapped on his tongue as she moved the tip of her wand up to his face without the slightest hesitation. Was this the moment he’d been waiting for?

“Episkey.”

The sharp pain in his cheek faded to nothing, and he probed the spot with his tongue to verify the cuts had healed.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Her actions didn’t make any sense to him. She shouldn’t be here, cleaning him up and casting healing spells.

“Righting a wrong,” she said, her voice calm and steady as if the response was only natural.

“Righting a wrong.”

He couldn’t help but repeat what she’d said, in utter disbelief at the implication. “Are you daft?”

“What’s daft, Malfoy, is you seeking out every single person looking for petty revenge.” Her rebuke was quick, slapping him with her disapproval.

“Finnegan deserves some satisfaction just as much as I deserve punishment,” he choked out. This was the first time he’d dared utter them aloud, even though he’d said them to himself a million times and more. He chanted them, repeated them almost like a prayer each night.

“Looking for pain the way that you are doesn’t make any of it right.” Her gaze, a clear shade of light brown like the honey he stirred into his tea, pierced him straight through. She saw too much.

Then again, she always had.

Trapped under his eyes the way that he was and feeling a rare moment of naked honesty, he again let out more of his true self.

“I don’t know what else to do.”

At that admission, she cocked her head to the side, chewing on her lip like she often did when considering a particularly trying problem. Her brows rose, lighting up as an idea came to mind.

“Catch.”

Not a half second later, her bag was flying towards him. He caught it just before it hit the ground, the weight of the shelf’s-worth of books she must have stuffed into it nearly knocking him on his arse.

“Bloody hell, Granger, this thing must weigh more than a hippogriff,” he grunted, hoisting the bundle more evenly into his arms. She smirked at the gripe, remembering a specific hippogriff and his specific blunder then.

“You’re my study buddy now, and you’ll accompany me to and from class and the library until graduation. Your choice, of course.” Spinning on her heels, she started her ascent back to the castle with the full expectation of his acquiescing to her offer.

Draco’s mind went through a series of mental gymnastics over the turn of events as he watched the distance increasing between them. He could drop her books and go his own way. Malfoys didn’t bow to others.

Unless they were Voldemort.

Or sentenced to Azkaban.

Or…

He could swallow his pride and follow the witch. Maybe she knew the real meaning of justice. Maybe she could help him figure out who he was outside of the family name and the Mark.

His mind made up, he grit his teeth and took the first step towards a future of his own making. He found Granger stopped and facing his way as she waited. The smile that stretched across her face when she noticed him moving hit him as hard, if not harder, than her ridiculous bag.

A smile for him rather than at his expense.

With she the giver and he the recipient, the smile took on a whole new meaning. Perhaps instead of seeking his own pain, he could seek joy for her and, just maybe, for himself.

WC 999

Juuuuuut shy of 1K, let's go!

Twitter prompt from DramionePrompts

#dramione #dramione prompt #draco malfoy x hermione granger #dramione prompts #dhr fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #hermione granger #draco malfoy

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