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i-love-you-all · 8 months

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For the valorant hc game could you do sova please?

Of course! Sova, my love <333

Also realizing how long these posts get so I've put the keep reading line in.

5 things they usually see:

A practice target (often those poor bots). His greatest fear is failure - a missed shot. It could determine the fate of his teammates or the world, so it cannot happen (again). As a result, he spends ungodly amounts of time training and working out. No mistake will be repeated on his watch.

Wildlife! It's already established that he enjoys photographing nature, so I imagine that he see trees, flowers and animals quite often.

Chess boards and pieces. He's a pretty avid chess players (same with Cypher so I imagine those two compete as often as Sova can stand the information broker).

Guns and other weapons. I HC him as being military/special ops then onto whatever the Brotherhood is. And before then I HC his family to be a military family so he's grown up seeing guns, learning how to use them... and using them himself.

Various shades of blue. I think it's a top 3 favourite colour of his (looking at the clothes he wears outside his armour). But I like to think that he got his walls painted blue at the protocol. And that he got some say in what he would wear out on his missions and whatnot. (because if we're being honest, if he does work up north in snow and stuff as shown in his card, he should be wearing arctic camo).

4 things they usually feel:

The cold. He grew up in a cold place and like his voiceline on icebox, he enjoys the cold as well. For the most part, he doesn't mind it, but when he's out for a long time, he does enjoy the warmth of a fire, or just a heated room.

The calluses on his hands and the weight of his bow. He's been trained since young with the bow and arrow, so his skin is not soft, and it's not perfect. However, it is who he is, so when he makes a fist or absentmindedly rubs his hands together, he feels them quite often. It's a permanent reminder of who he is.

His wet hair as he leaves the shower + all the cleaning and brushing he does for it. I think that he takes special care of his hair because it's like the one part of him that "stayed the same" throughout his life, or that it's the only thing that can't be scarred. He must have so many scars around his body (though I sometimes write him to have none bc he's that OP :p) and then he lost his eye, so the fact that his hair can still stay nice and soft must be something to treasure :))

The sore feeling you get after a workout. Whether he was injured on a mission or just after a hard day, he can feel that stiffness. Maybe there are days he wishes he was a radiant. Maybe then, all the physical strains he takes on wouldn't hurt as much. He knows the soreness will only get worse, no matter how great he is at keeping in shape. And that's when his admiration for Brimstone gets stronger because that man has been working through this for decades longer than he has.

3 things they usually hear:

His electro music. I'd like to think that maybe, the reason why he likes that genre more (from what you can hear on the playlist for him) is because the drums are softer/rounder. A loud hit on a snare might make him tense up a little too much because it can sound like a gunshot.

His breathing, and his efforts to control it. Snipers have to work to control how they breathe, so as he settles down into a sniper's position, he needs to be extra aware of his breath. Also, in worse times, he needs to calm himself down when he has a nightmare intense enough to make him jolt upright in the middle of the night. Thoughts of losing his eye again, or a mission that was failed because of his action - or lack of action, sometimes plague him, and he hates how he loses control for those few moments.

A cold wind/nature. I've already talked about him being out in the world and enjoying cold weather, but he likes to be closely attuned with all the possible and plausible sounds of nature. Not only is it a good way to calm himself down, but it's also great training. When he's alone out on a mission, he needs to know what are normal sounds and what could be an enemy trying to sneak up on him.

2 things they usually smell:

Nice, warm, tea in the morning. He would never admit it, and Cypher has no proof, but it is him that sometimes takes Cypher's teas. Especially when he doesn't have any of his own available at that moment.

Metal/nothing. Not metallic as in blood, but as in the general iron smell of a gun or his bow. It's clean and isn't really reflective of the scents in his everyday surroundings, which is what I mean by nothing. He can smell food, gas, or whiffs of perfume as he travels around cities. He can smell flowers, trees, and nature when he's outdoors. He can't smell anything in that armoury as he prepares to leave on a mission.

1 thing they usually taste:

Blood. I know it's kind of a cop out for any agent, but I think Sova more than most (maybe not deadlock or brimstone) just due to his history in this line of work. He has lived through war, assassinations, and straight fist and knife fights. He has hit others, and inadvertently tasted a bit of blood splatter, or he has been hard enough to taste some of his own blood in his mouth. I think he might be a medium steak kinda guy if he does go out because he doesn't want to be reminded of anything while enjoying a meal. Though, there are times where he's in that sort of mood and will order something medium rare and let himself taste just that little bit of blood.

#yay my fave :))#valorant #sova #valorant sova #hc game #requested #answered asks

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lupinly · 8 months

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sirius painting remus' scars

[ sirius black x remus lupin, 862 words ]

sirius admired remus head to toe. he was utterly infatuated with the boy who absolutely hated himself. to sirius, remus was the most ethereal being that he ever laid his eyes on. for remus, he was a coldblooded monster who was no better than everyone else.

remus cursed as he looked himself in the mirror, trying to wrap the idea around in his head of how he did this all. the amount of scars that formed on the boy’s skin were ungodly. turning around, he saw scars that ranged from new to old settling down for years to come. sirius stood in the doorway and watched remus make a fool of himself before making his presence known.

“moony? alright there?” sirius questioned, motioning towards remus who was in his own world.

startled, remus quickly put his jacket on. “yeah, ‘m alright.”

“are you still feeling down from the moon? we don’t have to meet james if you’re not up for it. matter of fact, how about it be the both of us this evening.” sirius hooked his arm around remus’ shoulder, walking side by side.

remus knew his friend wasn’t stupid. sirius always knew when his moony needed a good cheering up, and this was one of those moments.

it started with ‘breaking’ into the kitchen after the elves had left. sirius had so much he wanted to do in order to cheer his best friend up. he thought getting all of remus’ snacks would be the opener for tonight’s events.

endless ideas circled around in sirius’ head. what could make his moony feel better? he knew how remus would sometimes draw over the smallest of scars on his hands so he wouldn’t see them. it was like a bulb flickered on in his head. sirius wanted to give remus the gift of not having to worry about the look of his skin, just for one night.

“it’s almost midnight, pads, what else do you have planned out?” remus yawned.

“one more thing, and you don’t have to agree.” the words intrigued him. "lily got these from her holiday and i just so happened to borrow some watercolor and brushes.” sirius held the metal box that contained an assortment of watercolors and a tin that had a couple brushes.

“so.. you want me to paint?” remus looked at him confused. “sirius, we're going to make a mess and we both know i'm going to clean it up while you watch.” he complained.

sirius shook his head. “think of it as if we were the canvas, our skin. i want you to see the way i see you, vise versa.”

“okay,” remus managed to get out.

on the inside, remus had the annoying feeling of butterflies swarming around in his stomach. on the outside, he was scared. of course, sirius had seen his scars before, everyone had, but this was more than just seeing them.

remus watched as the boy transformed their shared dorm into a mini art studio of sorts. a white sheet laid on the middle of the floor with the color palettes scattered around it.

remus shrugged off his jacket and laid it aside. he watched sirius rummage through his trunk for god knows what. “change into something other than your uniform, wouldn’t want to go to classes with green paint on your jumper.” sirius chuckled, his voice muffled.

semus sat on the floor, pulling his favorite blanket down with him. while he waited for sirius, he tested out the colors on his hand that he liked the most.

“okay.” sirius said. “do you want me to go first?” he asked. remus nodded.

remus painted with delicacy. he chose different colors that he personally thought suited sirius’ skin or furthermore, what he thought sirius’ favorite colors were. he went with a combination of both.

sirius was in awe from the work that remus had done. he had gorgeous marks of earthy tones going up and down his arms, marks of blue and white trailing up his back, and lastly, a small sun that was accompanied by a full moon.

“wow. remus- this is incredible. i knew you were talented but this,” sirius looked in the mirror. “you did amazing.”

a smile grew on remus’ face. “you really think so?”

“are you kidding me? hell yeah.” sirius reassured him.

It was now sirius’ turn to paint. remus had done so well on him that he was nowhere near as confident in his drawing skills as he once was.

sirius dipped the brush into the tin and onto the color palette. unsure of the colors he wanted to choose, he decided to ask the boy himself what he wanted to be painted on him. “flowers. I think that would be nice.”

he started on remus’ back. it held the largest scars, the ones remus was terrified of. sirius chose a variety of colors and started to plan out his creation. after drying, he began working down remus’ body, not missing a single speck that the boy hated on his skin.

“moony?” sirius asked softly.

“yeah?”

“i think you look beautiful with or without your scars.”

i saw a quote of "no thoughts, just sirius painting remus' scars" from another tumblr page that i cant find anymore but!! first little fic xx

++ i normally don't write character x character but the quote was so cute i had to bring it to life

[ LUPINLY]

#marauders #remus lupin #remus loves sirius #sirius black #sirius x remus #sirius black x remus lupin #harry potter #lupinly

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 1 year

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Lovebirds

Timari January: Replacement (Art) by @maribat-calendar-events

Summary: They find an old project from art class while moving.

Back to Timari January 2023 Masterlist

Tim slumped on top of Marinette, his chin resting on her shoulder to let him see what she was doing in his darling box. “You know, it’s not right to snoop.”

She snorted dismissively, but her hands stilled where they had been sifting through the many photos he had opted to take with him to their new house. “You got nudes in here that you’re trying to hide?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, I have those in a separate box.”

Marinette made a choking sound and her head whipped around to look at him to see whether he was joking. He kept his face perfectly impassive.

She squinted at him for a moment before shaking her head, grinning. “Anyways, I just wanted to see. I haven’t gotten to look at your photos in ages,” she said.

“Can I go through to make sure you don’t see any of the bad ones?” He asked, smiling nervously.

“... why would you go through the effort to develop bad ones?”

He huffed. “I was a kid. I didn’t know about shot composition.”

“Then why keep them?”

He thought about it for a moment before shrugging. “Couldn’t get rid of them, I guess.”

She hummed lightly.

Tim shooed her off so he could lean over the box. She huffed a little, clearly not enthused at the idea of going back to unpacking, but did so without any real complaint. She resumed her desperate search for bedsheets, neither of them wanted to sleep on a bare mattress if they could help it.

He grabbed a handful of pictures, the laminated pages just barely sticking to his hands. And then he started flipping through them. A tiny smile made its way across his face. He hadn’t seen a bunch of these in years, and there was something kind of adorable about seeing how bad he had been back in the day. Some of it wasn’t his fault, admittedly, catching people in motion was difficult with a camera, especially at night, but still. Looking at the blurs of color on dark backdrops that he had used to think of as tastefully stylistic rather than unfortunate…

It was a simpler time.

Besides, it made the few good pictures littered through the box seem more amazing. A shot of Robin and Batman awkwardly standing in line for smoothies. A picture of Robin in free fall, his cape fluttering in the ‘wind’. A picture of Batman poised perfectly against a rare moon in Gotham, a dark silhouette against the light.

And then he reached something at the bottom of the box that was too large to be a photograph.

Maybe it was a collage?

He pulled out a large sheet of laminated paper. It took him a moment to recognize it, but when he did he laughed out loud. “Holy shit, Mari, look.”

She blinked once, setting down a random vase so she could make her way across the room to stretch over him. Her eyes sparkled with recognition. “Ooooooh, I remember that,” she said, leaning closer.

The ‘that’ in question was a finger painting mural that their class had collaborated on during art way back when they were about to graduate from kindergarten. The base was a professionally done drawing of a forest, the trees sporting an almost ungodly amount of branches. This wasn’t the main feature, though. It was a backdrop for the actual finger painting the kids had done. Really, it was less of an art project and more of a ‘stamp your thumb in a spot and then turn it into an animal’ activity.

“When I put my bird next to yours everyone went ‘ooooooooo’. A classic,” Tim said quietly, pointing to the pair of tiny fingerprints in the top right corner. They had both opted to turn theirs into birds, because it ‘just made sense, they were in trees!’, but you wouldn’t know that from looking at it. They looked like smiley faces with feet.

Marinette and Tim’s blue and red birds had overlapped somewhat, turning the area between purple. Marinette had insisted that he had ruined it by ‘turning them into a Venn Diagram’, he had cried, and she had cried because he was crying and had begged for forgiveness.

It was quite a day.

He rubbed the two laminated birds, smiling. His thumb nowadays could cover up both of their old fingerprints. “I’m guessing you don’t have your copy anymore?”

She pouted. “No. It was the worst day ever and I tossed it into a river before it got home. My favorite pink skirt got ruined, why would I want to remember that?”

He snorted into his hand.

“You’re laughing. That’s my villain origin story and you’re laughing.”

He grinned and pressed his hand against his mouth as hard as he could in hopes that that would muffle his amusement even partially. He could still remember the pure horror on her young face, which looked particularly pale when compared with the bright green paint that one of their classmates had spilled on her. At the time, that had seemed like the biggest thing to ever happen to them.

She grinned and took a seat next to him, her eyes on the pair of birds. She leaned into him a little, almost mirroring the way they leaned against each other in the picture. At least they didn’t meld together like the birds had, that would have been inconvenient.

She absently rubbed her thumb against her palm, as if remembering the way the paint had felt on her finger all those years ago. “I almost poisoned a bunch of customers because I forgot to wash off all the paint on my hand before helping my parents.”

“... wait. Is that why I got a bunch of bread the next day?”

She cleared her throat.

“You told me the blue was just food dye!”

“Technically, I said that the blue wasn’t mold. And it wasn’t.”

He sputtered.

“And, I mean, you’re fine now, so it’s all good.”

His eyes narrowed at her. She was avoiding eye contact, so she definitely felt bad about it. But. He would have preferred an apology. Since she wasn’t offering one, he thought it was perfectly reasonable to resort to torture.

“How do you know that? I could be un-bread for all you know.”

She groaned. “I’m going to strangle you.”

“I’m a ghost! You can’t do that! Your hands would go right through me but, hey, at yeast you tried!”

Her eye twitched. “One more,” she dared him.

“... hey, you don’t gotta be a brioche about it –!”

She grabbed him by the front of his shirt and dragged him into a kiss. “Shut up,” she muttered against his mouth.

And he did.

#timari #timari january 2023 #maribat #timinette #shutterbug #timmari #tim drake #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #red robin

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hiccanna-tidbits · 1 year

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Jackunzel February Special Week 4 - Winter Unrestrained Winter Fun

One should know better than to ask “where are Jack and Rapunzel?” during the winter months. The answer, if you’re anything like most sensible people, is one you probably won’t enjoy.

Whether it’s rolling aimlessly around in the snow, downing experimentally-made holiday snacks with ungodly amounts of sugar and calories, or sipping fancy bright blue drinks that may or may not be spiked, their activities can’t possibly be anything responsible. Leave them unattended for long enough, and these two might just impulsively build an igloo “clubhouse” and dye all the ice blocks neon colors.

“Oh god,” you gasp in horror. “Does the HOA even allow that?” To which I regret to inform you it does not, but they gave up long ago. The property values plummeted past repair after the Great Snowman Wars of 2017--the landmark event the HOA decided was the point of no return. This neighborhood, lavish as the real estate originally was, was a lost cause if every winter it turned into a tableau of carnage and high drama. The ice structures that absolutely no one is paying property taxes on and that were certainly built without any kind of permit are just the cherry on top, really. Alas, there’s no denying that the messy-haired brunette boy in the baggy hoodies and the blonde in fashionable sweaters are a menace.

After all, there is no greater threat to the hard-assed and the humorless of the world than unrestrained winter fun.

***

A thing made in large part because I saved some pictures that I was like “oh god oh god I absolutely MUST use these images for Jackunzel content!!!” But!!! It was too late and Jackunzel month was already over at the time D: Luckily the Jackunzel February Special blessed us with season-based prompts, and so at last I could use my blessed images of a Jack-coded dude who looks like he just passed out because he was enjoying winter too hard, a rainbow stained-glass-looking igloo containing both of Jackunzel’s most prominent motifs (art and vibrant painting!!!), and a cocktail literally named “the Jack Frost” which was too pretty NOT to use in a moodboard.

I also very much needed to use an extremely cute pic I found of a blonde girl laughing in the snow, like. That’s definitely what Rapunzel looks like in the winter and with that information in mind it’s really no puzzle why Jack’s madly in love with her <3 Like the nose-scrunch though!!! I am Weak!!!

Two more of these bad boys and my Jackunzel February Special submissions will finally be done ^^; Threw a lot more work into these things than I meant to tbh. But I gotta use up all my pretty snow pics somehow XD

As always, moodboard pic credits available upon request!

#jackunzelfs23 #jackunzel #jack x rapunzel #rapunzel x jack #moodboard #aesthetic #jack frost #rapunzel #jackxrapunzel #rapunzelxjack #rotbtd #rise of the brave tangled dragons #the big four #tangled #rise of the guardians #rotg #crossover

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fallout-boiiiiii · 1 year

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Infinity on high

Finished January 22, 2021

These were the first ones I made.

To start, I was going off of this wave four design.

Step one: do what we can with Vans Customizer

Vans Customizer allowed me to do almost all the basics of the shoe you can see from the first wave rendition of this design. But quickly I ran into an issue- I had originally intended to upload a starry night photo for the quarters and have Vans screen print them for me. But while starry night the painting is public domain, photos of starry night are not. Vans told me it would not accept my photo under copyright law because while the shoes are my personal use, I purchased them in base form from Vans so had I been allowed to upload it they could be sued for profiting off of allowing me to use it. Boo. Instead, I set the quarters to the same dark blue as the toes and heels. Regrettably I don’t have a picture of how they looked when they arrived.

Step two: paint the quarters

It took a long time. An amount of time it hadn’t occurred to me to document. I got them on Christmas and uploaded them to Instagram in January. All I can say about this (since I disclosed my paint and sealant of choice in the master post) is it was lots and LOTS of layering. Even if I had photos of it I wouldn’t upload them bc it would be an ungodly amount of photos. I decided to ditch the “infinity on high” side stripe and implement the font elsewhere.

(The side with the crescent moon is my favorite. The side with the swirly yellow is my moms favorite.)

Step three: finish painting

Now that the quarters were done it was time for the heels. The original design said to embroider the IOH moon on the heel, but I decided that was stupid. I utilized the font on the opposite heel to write “long live the car crash hearts” from Thriller. Once the heels were done I covered every inch of painted area with sealant and let it dry.

See next post as I’ve hit my photo limit >>>

#fall out boy #fob #fob shoes #my shoes #my art #custom shoes #custom #infinity on high #ioh #infinity on high shoes #infinity shoes #IOH shoes

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bexisanidiot · 8 months

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Bee facts bc I'm bored:

1. She has a bunch of scars all from being shot, stabbed, burned, maybe even self harm in a way.

2. If she wouldn't explode when she dies, she would want to be cremated then her ashes turned into seeds for rose bushes bc she loves roses.

3. Her ability to make her body burst in flames can be different colors depending on her current emotion or how strong the emotion is, like if she finally bursts into flames the fire would be a mix of blue and purple due to the amount of anger she has and/or has been built up.

4. She's more of a rodent and reptile person but she can enjoy dogs and cats the same.

5. She usually writes or thinks in Russian.

6. She has a high cold tolerance, she wears a long jacket for fashion plus it hides her figure more.

7. She always loved butterscotch candy or anything butterscotch flavored.

8. She probably never carved a pumpkin, her kids definitely have but she never got into carving a pumpkin.

9. She ALWAYS thought that the whole thing of Santa Claus was extremely fuckin weird cuz you know he always knows when you're sleeping and when you're awake, so she only calls him "Creepy Claus" or "Creep Claus".

10. She's very neat and very specific, like she always likes to do things clean and how she wants it done.

11. She can't really read into the future, she only gets deja vu more often than the average person.

12. She's very good at knowing the anatomy of organs and knowing what they do and exactly where is what.

13. She used to rollarskate and spray paint, she got too big to rollarksate and just lost interest in painting in general.

14. She's somewhat an empath, it depends on the situation.

15. I don't think she ever had much or any kinda of soda/pop.

16. She probably has the skill to be some kind of doctor or even an undertaker, but she rather do either combat, Intel, or r&d.

17. A lot of her weapons she has made/customized. She might've even helped other people in her lines of work make/modify their weapons.

18. She's very good at making all kinds of explosives due to her history of chemical warfare and her basically putting random things together she found in dumpsters.

19. She has a VERY strong sense of smell and good eyesight. But she is deaf in her right ear.

20. Everytime she gets/makes a sandwich she always has an ungodly amount of mayonnaise (I do too honestly).

#mgs #mgs oc [bee]#ramblings #mgs oc #metal gear oc #random oc facts

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shadowsinger11 · 4 years

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Inspiration

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Requested by anon: Could you do a Fred Weasley imagine where he falls in love with Harry’s younger sister. (Maybe a after the war where he lives)

Word Count: 3.3k (my hand slipped oops)

Genre: Fluff, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining etc.

Warnings: Slight innuendo, Fred being cute and hot simultaneously

Tags: @self-ship-love @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hufflexpuff @neovannii @jenniweasley @elf-punk @heart-of-tempered-steel @itseatyourdamnapples

Message me if you'd like to be added!

Masterlist

Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, England, July 16, 2000

It was a chilly Sunday evening. The summer air buzzed with excitement and the tender aroma of magnolia as tiny white and pink petals were gracefully falling from the huge cherry trees, carried by the light breeze. Twilight painted the horizon in liquid gold and fiery red, soon followed by mellow shades of dark blue that brought countless sparkling stars.

It was getting the slightest bit colder, but it did not matter; nothing else mattered but the loud cheers and cheerful music, celebrating the official bond between a Potter and a Weasley under the wide night sky.

You couldn't have been happier for your older brother, Harry, who was currently dancing with Ginny, his now wife - now and for the rest of his, hopefully, but not really likely, peaceful life. For the longest time you've been wondering how he'd always manage to get into trouble even as a small First year with no experience in the wizarding world whatsoever. Or, perhaps, that was the exact reason as to why evil-battling and rule-breaking were such common practices when hanging out with him.

However, there was no fighting that day. There was no room for worry and fear when the entire Weasley family and their loved ones were gathered on the clearing in front of the Burrow, chatting, laughing, dancing, singing, drinking, celebrating and living for what seemed to be the first time since Lord Voldemort's fall. Danger was practically nonexistent in that blissful moment which was frozen in time, once having looked agonizingly distant and impossible to hope for. But that dream was no longer just a foolish fantasy to heal wounded hearts. It was there, and it was happening in the most beautiful way imaginable.

And suddenly, all those clichés of a married life weren't even clichés. They were simply humble wishes of people who had witnessed far too many horrors in such a short period of time, and only craved stability among the massive chaos. So when you glanced at Ginny, a twirling blur of flaming red hair and a gorgeous wedding dress, you didn't feel the need to comment on how banal the color white was. You genuinely smiled, admiring the pure, exuberant joy, visible in her eyes and scarlet cheeks. Harry looked just as, if not even happier than his wife, dancing in the ridiculous but wholehearted way that only he could, and old memories of him winning the golden egg, training Dumbledore's Army and kissing Ginny in the common room for the very first time flooded into your mind.

It had truly been a long time since you had seen Harry careless and free like that.

You yourself had spent an ungodly amount of hours preparing the yard for the ceremony all day; rearranging chairs, decorating, making sure everything was going by schedule, only to then dance your tired feet off, and though you wanted to continue having fun with Hermione, Luna and the rest of the girls waiting for you, you really needed a break. And a drink.

Excusing yourself to leave the particularly interesting conversation you were having with distant Weasley relatives, you slipped off your black flats that, despite looking absolutely stunning, hurt your feet terribly after an entire day of fussing over the color of napkins and flower bouquets. Barefoot on the grass, you walked over to a chair next to a table which seemed to have been occupied, but judging by the mostly empty glasses and plates, the guests weren't coming back anytime soon.

You tossed your shoes aside with a sigh and rushed to rub your aching toes, hissing from how sore they were.

How has Ginny been dancing like that for hours?

"Enjoying the party, I see?" a familiar deep, slightly husky voice commented, causing you to look up.

It was none other than Fred Weasley, dear friend from childhood, staring down at you, his ever-present charming smirk resting on features and hands shoved into the pockets of his dragonskin suit. But it was his flaming red hair that made your eyes widen - it was carefully smoothed back, shining under the moonlight like liquid iron.

Fred's eyes still contained their famous, loveable mischief, except now slightly tamer and calmer. His firm biceps had visibly grown in size, stretching out the fabric of his coat just a bit to give you a prominent silhouette that caught you off guard.

It had been two years; he had changed so much.

And you were afraid to admit you had too.

You blinked in surprise, processing his uncharacteristically sophisticated appearance before realizing what he had asked you.

"Would've enjoyed it far more if my legs weren't killing me," you groaned half-heartedly and leaned back on your chair. "What's with your hair?"

"What's with your feet?"

"I asked you first," you cut him off. "I bet Ginny is responsible for this."

"Actually…" Fred trailed off, and, whether on purpose or not, ran a hand through the ginger locks to keep them in place, unaware of how you suddenly wished the hand doing the graceful motion wasn't his. "Mum insisted that I looked my best. What can I say, it's not like George and I usually listen to her, but we thought we'd make an exception this time; our sister doesn't get married every day. But honestly, Ginny couldn't care less about how we looked as long we showed up."

"So like usual, you mean?" you giggled. "Showing up is an achievement for you even if you're underdressed?"

Fred beamed, pearly white smile complementing his formal outfit. You wondered if he used that exact smile to effortlessly allure costumers and business partners at work.

He rested an elbow on the table as he leaned forward.

"Come on now, darling. I know you find my messy hair irresistible either way."

His cockiness only caused you to laugh, though Fred was quick to spot the flash of nervousness in your eyes; it brought him immense pride to know he was the one to turn you from confident to adorably bashful and flustered in the matter of seconds.

He was looking at you intensely, expectantly waiting for you to deny his flirty accusation despite your shyness.

"Nah, Weasley. It only reminds me that even at twenty-two you still do not know how to use a comb."

Fred's eyebrows shot straight up to his hairline, mouth agape. For the first time, he actually needed a second to form a reply.

"Didn't see that coming, I give you that. Courageous one, you are."

Your heart fluttered with joy and you openly grinned, shrugging in half-hearted humbleness.

"Perhaps I am."

Speaking to him felt unusually energizing, as though you had jumped headfirst into a chilly lake. It was unfamiliar and it set your nerves on fire, causing your stomach to twist and turn with sensations that left you dizzy, but unbelievably thrilled. And you wanted more of it, you wanted more of him.

"Fancy a drink?" Fred offered, already pouring champagne into a glass before handing it to you, and you keenly took it.

"Thanks, I've been thirsty with all the preparations I was doing."

"Is that why your legs are killing you?"

"Exactly, I've been running around all day, making sure everything was in order… you know, a lot of organizing and the like."

"It must hurt quite a bit then," Fred commented with a pained grimace. "But I absolutely get you, Georgie and I are just like that when it comes to the shop. It's a lot of accounting if I'm being honest, though I admit he's way better at it. We need to be completely precise; we can't allow any mistakes."

"Woah," you laughed. "Control freak much?"

He wettened his lips, never breaking eye contact.

"Perhaps I am."

You tilted your head to the side, gaze piercing into his in hopes of finding out what those gorgeous brown eyes were hiding. The tiny playful flames in them were eloquent.

Shifting slightly in your seat, you smoothed out your bridesmaid dress and raised your glass, the ghost of a smirk playing on your lips.

"Cheers to us control freaks then."

Fred mirrored your smug expression and your glasses met with a clink. The bubbly liquid tingled your throat, undoubtedly refreshing you and cooling you off. You glanced at the people dancing in the centre of the clearing and giggled - Ginny had apparently thrown away her white shoes long ago, bare feet stepping elegantly on the grass.

"You see, I'd like to chat a bit more with you, but I'm afraid it's a bit too loud here. What about we go to the pond across the field?" Fred suggested, pointing at the woods behind his back. You had visited them countless times when staying with Harry at the Burrow during holidays years ago; the tall trees and the glistening waters had never ceased to bring you comfort.

The noise started to become bothersome, and you felt it even more necessary to continue your conversation somewhere private, the unknown causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. Fred's presence could only be compared to a shot of whiskey, or the sensation of anticipating a tidal wave to crash into you in less than a second. It was wild and the tiniest bit terrifying, but oh so tempting as it pulled you in.

"I'd love that, but… you know," you grinned and playfully swang your sore feet. "Can't really walk."

But this didn't at all seem like a problem to Fred Weasley who only shrugged and stood up, "You don't have to. I'll carry you."

"Merlin, no! Please, it's not necessary."

Fred frowned, but his confused expression was soon replaced by an amused one.

"You said it yourself that your feet hurt like hell. And even if carrying you around isn't necessary, it doesn't mean I don't want to."

You attempted to tame the butterflies.

"No, no! You seriously don't have to, I promise," you frantically protested as you held up your hands in front of you to reassure him, but he only gave you a weird look. "I can walk on my own. I'll be too heavy for you."

"There's only one way to find out."

Fred walked over to you and leaned down, one hand sneaking around your waist and the other slipping under your knees. You shrieked in terror, arms flying to clutch at his shoulders, and heat rose to your cheeks from the abrupt contact. Your chests were pressed together, and you were afraid he'd be able to feel your racing heart. His skin was warmer than you had thought, and it successfully fought off the night summer chill.

"Are we going?" Fred whispered down at you, lips so close to yours that you recognized the nuance of champagne in his breath, mixing unbelievably well with the scent of cinnamon and sandalwood of his cologne.

Not only is he sinfully attractive, but he smells heavenly too?

"Yes," you breathed and let Fred effortlessly walk across the meadow with you in his arms. They brought this new, odd, yet familiar sense of security, and you allowed your head to rest against his chest, nervous gaze wandering off into the distance in hopes of not meeting his. Nevertheless, curiosity eventually took the best of you, and your eyes would occasionally flicker to his, which were now completely black under the night sky. They could swallow you whole, you swore.

Minutes later, you found yourselves in the company of old, enormous willows which surrounded the pond you so vividly remembered from your teenage years. You thanked Fred as he carefully let you down, and took a few steps forward to look around and drench in the misty moonlight that enveloped the area. The waters were crystal clear and completely still, reflecting the moon and its majestic silver glow. The bushes had grown significantly over the time you were away, and you fondly looked back at the moments when you would pick up colorful wildflowers in the summer before your fourth year.

"Shall we sit?" Fred asked quietly from right behind your shoulder, and you followed him with a nod. You found a comfortable spot on the fresh grass to sit, a few feet away from where the water met the soil and moved back and forth ever so slightly.

"It's more beautiful than I remember," you noted, lips curled up in a barely visible smile. Fred hummed in agreement.

"That's why I always make sure to come here every chance I get when I return. But, unfortunately, that's very rare in my case."

For a moment, there was only the chirping of crickets and the soft bubbling of water.

Fred turned to you.

"Remember when mum used to call for us to de-gnome the garden and we'd hide here? We could stay in the bushes for hours before we eventually came back," he recalled, seeming deep in thought. It was an extraordinary sight; for once the playful spark in his eyes was more mellow, there was no cockiness seeping into the way he was holding himself. He was just Fred, the man who was currently thinking with so much adoration and love about his childhood, the most significant memories of it being marked by you.

You wondered, given you ever had the chance to spend with Fred as much time as your older brother did, if the charismatic prankster would have fallen for you like you had done. You wondered, given the chance you had let Fred get to know you better all those summers ago, if his heart would have belonged to you by now just like yours did to him.

Had you possibly missed your chance?

"Oh, I do," you sighed, the tension in your chest vanishing as warm nostalgia crept in like an old friend. "I also remember when I got this really bad nightmare that night. I was so terrified that you took me on a ride with your broom in the middle of the night to cheer me up."

"That's true! My parents don't know about it to this day," he replied smugly. "I can still hear you screaming like a lunatic."

You jokingly smacked his arm, "I was twelve!"

Fred's grin grew wider.

"Excuses…"

This only caused you to stare at him in disbelief and cross your arms, managing your most serious expression, but Fred was aware you were on the verge of failing to keep your stern facade. He squinted his eyes as a teasing attempt to provoke you, smile threatening to split his face in two.

"Alright then, that's enough about me," you announced, and Fred nodded in mock agreement as he studied your playful pretence. "If you're so much better than me, Mr Darcy, what else do you do aside from stealing ladies away?"

"Stealing their hearts," he said confidently, flashing you a seductive smirk, reserved only for special girls back in your Hogwarts days. You giggled, finding his antic utterly ridiculous, but you hated to admit that it still turned your blood into liquid fire. Fred apparently saw right through you, because when your eyes landed on his, they appeared completely dark once again, but, you suspected, for a reason other than the lack of light.

Your throat went dry, and you found it hard to swallow down the lump that cut your breath short.

He ran a hand through his ginger hair as he began to explain, "I'm kidding, you know. But to answer your question, George and I have been working on this potion that should be able to change the color of the eyes and hair. Fun for those who enjoy experimenting with their appearance, but it can also be useful to the Ministry. They're actually going to send a team of a couple of aurors to visit us next month so we can update them on our progress and negotiate the details."

"Wow! That's certainly exciting!"

"Is it? I mean, it probably is, but I've been having second thoughts lately if I'm being honest." He scratched the back of his neck, and you realised you had only witnessed him being anxious when it came to his greatest passion. "I'm afraid we might not be done on time, there's still plenty left to improve."

You put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention, and said, "I'm sure you'll figure it all out eventually. Keep working as you normally do, try not to stress too much over the deadline, and even if things go wrong at some point, don't go too hard on yourself. It wouldn't take away any progress you've made so far."

Fred's body relaxed just a bit and he looked down at you. He couldn't deny the sense of serenity that he felt only when he was with you. Even as a careless young boy, he was able to pinpoint the way his midriff would clench every time you'd laugh at his jokes or ask him to play with you, without knowing what it all meant.

But now, as a grown man, he had a word to describe the bittersweet fire within.

"You know what?" He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "I could really benefit from having someone like you around to give me motivation."

"Motivation, huh?" you raised an eyebrow, fighting back a smile. Fred sneaked a hand around your waist and pulled you closer.

"Yes, motivation."

"Motivation for what?"

"Marketing strategies, work projects…" he shrugged nonchalantly, "...among other things."

You quickly caught on, suddenly becoming way too self-aware of the way you were practically cuddled into Fred's side, hand resting on his shoulder while his were wrapped around your waist. But his shining confidence seemed to rub off on you, because you asked.

"What's with you offering me a job all of a sudden?"

His bottom lip was tucked between his teeth as he took his sweet time devouring you with his darkened gaze. You didn't know whether you wanted to hide from it, or expose yourself even further to the way it burned its way straight to your core.

"Well…" Fred dragged out in his low, hoarse voice, and caressed your cheek with his thumb before slipping it under your chin to guide it towards his face. You could nearly taste the remaining flavour of champagne on his lips. "I've certainly been feeling…"

Fred went quiet as he got lost in the way you fit so perfectly in his arms; you had always meant to be there, he realised. His mouth crashed into yours, hands tightly gripping your waist, and you let out a gasp. Fred's lips were soft, although slightly chapped, and they moved gently but firmly against yours, turning you into their slave. Your palms naturally slid up his chest and he closed any remaining distance between your bodies by placing you to straddle his lap. The kiss was a dance of pushing forward and pulling back, two lovers having finally found their rhythm after years of living in fearful desire. You were positively drunk on his taste, on him, and you wished to never become sober.

When your need for air overcame the one for physical contact, you pulled away. Your chests were heaving with rapid, shallow breaths, hearts beating in synch like they had always done. You let a finger tenderly trace his cheekbone down to his jawline, then it came back up to draw different affectionate patterns on his face.

"What were you saying?" you asked, clearly out of breath. "How were you feeling?"

He fondly took your hand that was caressing his skin, and lifted it up to press feather-light kisses on your knuckles. His lips retraced their path until they reached the tips of your fingers, and he kissed those with the gentlest of touch.

You heart ached pleasurably from the way he was handling you with such care, much more than you ever believed he was capable of.

After minutes of worshipping you by the moonlit lake, Fred looked back at you as though you were his entire world. And replied with a smile.

"Inspired."

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

Masterlist

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader fluff #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley oneshot #weasley twins x reader #weasley twins #fred and george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagines #james phelps #oliver phelps

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garagesesh · 3 years

Text

illicit affairs

one.

Summary: As the new girlfriend of notorious womanizer and formula one driver, James Hunt, you’re suddenly thrown into a whole new world and meet the man who James hates most, Niki Lauda.

Pairings: James Hunt x (f!)Reader, eventual Niki Lauda x (f!)reader

Warnings: Period typical sexism, mentions of prostitution, mentions of sex, niki is a dick like a huge dick and also just very jealous and doesn’t know how to compliment women at all, swearing, slow burn, blood

A/N: I’m going to warn you now that I haven’t written anything in a really long time and I suddenly got the motivation to try again. So, I’m really sorry if this is dumb lmao. Anyways, I’m really excited about this gif and I’m having fun writing it! Also, James is still a dick but can be nice?? idk i made him a lil different. except i will state right now that i am separating the real life James Hunt and Niki Lauda from my personal versions. i don’t paint them in the best of light at times and i don’t want to disrespect the real ones. also i suck at summaries.

🏁 BRAZIL

são paolo | 26 January, 1975

The Brazilian summer sun beat down across the Autódromo de Interlagos track, setting record high temperatures. Soles of shoes melted, sweat drenched the clothes of everyone, and ice was poured in ungodly amounts onto the tires that did nothing other than evaporate.

Thousands of poor souls all dressed in the hues of their favorite team were jammed packed into the stands under the unforgiving sun hours before the race to catch glimpses of their favorite drives themselves gearing up for the race.

Weaving in and out of the waxed and gleaming cars, your eyes couldn’t help but admire the metal boxes of death that littered the concrete in two neat rows. The heat was unbearable as it beat down your back and although you were appropriately clothed for the weather, it still felt like layers upon layers of tight winter clothes engorging your body. Nonetheless, you trudged on in what you admit being too high platform heels.

Admittedly, this was the first formula one race you had ever been too. In fact, it was your first race of anything after meeting a very and very attractive formula one driver at a dinner party you both didn’t want to be at, you were now required to show up at such events. Not that you minded, at all.

It was last December when you had been invited to your old roommate’s family dinner for the holidays. The whole night itself was dull as people droned on and on about themselves and their achievements in over priced evening gowns and tuxedos.

Dressed in your best dress with your most expensive shoes and jewelry, you had entered the large four story, twenty room home, with the austere grandeur you felt out of place.

The night had droned on and one as you stood in the corner of the room, nursing a glass of wine and observing the glistening dresses that were elegantly draped on the older and more refined women of society, complete with the most delicate and custom shoes and drowning in priceless gems hanging off their necks and eats.

The men were dressed all the same in black and white tuxedos but, no doubt the most expensive that one could find.

Except.

There was a single outlier.

A man standing near the fireplace dressed in blue velvet, with an open white shirt, no tie and long un-brushed blond hair; was laughing loudly while flirting shamelessly with a much older woman with his arm draped on the mantle with his finger gently pulling on the woman’s extensively long string of pearls.

Despite unable to hear him over the music and crowd, you could tell he was witty with the way the woman’s laughter rang out. Watching him flirt with almost every woman over the age of sixty-five, you found, was the only interesting thing at this damned party.

It was only during dinner did you meet the mysterious and somewhat enthralling man.

Excusing yourself from the table to use the restroom, you pushed the bathroom door open just as the door was being opened from the inside. Making the mistake of resting your entire weight on the door handle, the door smacked against the figure in the bathroom.

A crack softly rung in your eyes. “Oh my god! Are you alright?!”

“Yeah-“ The blond and very attractive man from before, clutched his nose in his large hand as he laughed before checking if there had been any blood. “just fine.”

Oh god, he was even better looking up close.

“I think you might need some ice.” Embarrassment shot through your body due to not only your clumsiness of hitting the poor man, but also the sheer closeness of your bodies.

“I think I might need some tissues first.” He laughed again, clearly finding the whole thing amusing.

“Are you bleeding?!” You moved your head to try and look around his large hand to examine his nose.

Moving his hand away from his nose, you could see a small stream of crimson blood. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve dealt with much worse. Besides, I don’t mind that you were the one to break my nose.” He winked down at you as you bundled an excessive amount of toilet paper around you shaking hand and shoved it on his nose with too much force. “Ow.”

“I’m sorry. I-uh here.” Reaching down, your hand gently grasped his warm and much larger hand, gingerly placing the wad of toilet paper into his own hands; your fingers grazing each other during the simple exchange.

“James.” He spoke muffled through the mask of the burgeoning red paper.

“Huh?”

Pulling off the makeshift bandage, he winced as he grinned. “I’m James.”

“Y/n.”

“Well it’s an absolute pleasure meeting you.”

“I broke your nose! Let me pay for the hospital bill!”

“It was my fault and I don’t think it’s broken, hopefully. I don’t need you to do that.”

“I really am so sorry about all of this.” Noticing the tiny drops of red on his crisp white shirt, “Let me pay for a new shirt at least.”

James looked down at his shirt and only realized that his shirt was stained with blood then. “Oh-items alright. I hate this shirt anyways. How are you enjoying the party?” James grinned as he opened the door for you to walk out in front of him.

“Oh uh, it’s definitely a dinner party.”

“It’s boring.”

“Oh absolutely.”

His eyes eyes flickered down towards you as he hit his lip gently. “I know how you can repay me.”

“And how’s that? I have twenty pounds in my purse-“

“No. Let’s go for pizza?”

Should you leave with a man you just met?

Is the chance of being murdered better than being hypothetically murdered to death by boredom?

“Yes.”

Smiling at the memory, you found that you were enjoying yourself as you wandered aimlessly around the track as your boyfriend was currently somewhere else with his team preparing for the race and overall you didn’t mind it being a million degrees and a humidity percentage of about a billion out.

Continuing on your walk, you mouthed the names of the teams and tried to remember what car and driver belonged to as James had taught you.

Elf, Jody Scheckter.

Brabham, Ronnie Peterson.

Lotus, Carlos Reutemann.

Williams, Jacques Laffite.

Hesketh, James Hunt.

Your lips upturned in amusement before moving on to the red and white car beside it.

McLaren, Emerson Fittipaldi.

Ferrari.

Could you fall in love with a car? Certainly so, you just had with this one.

No single car had ever been this beautiful.

The weekend had you swimming in the Italian art work. All different colors, styles, and models; driven by some of the world’s wealthiest men and women all here for the grand prix.

But this was different.

The blood crimson car was an absolute piece of art.

As if it was painted right there on the track with the finest paints and delicate brushes. As if Michelangelo himself had risen from the dead to paint this car. The car itself swooped low with lines of utter perfection and precision. Thin and straight white, green, and red lines ran along the outside of the cockpit, only to stop for the cursive white letter looping around each other in elegant script.

Niki Lauda

You admit that you weren’t thinking soundly as your hand reached out and grazed the cherry car. Fingertips bribing numbly at the heat of the cooking metal underneath and fell just at the precipice of Nik, flowing down and trailing the i to the k-

“What are you doing?”

You retracted your hand from the hot metal and clutched it against your chest like a guilty child that was caught with their hand in the cookie jar just before dinner, at the sound of the stern and very obviously annoyed voice behind you.

“Are you going to move?”

Your lips opened to respond as you turned around to face your confronter.

He was attractive.

Not in a model or rockstar and definitely not a James way, no; but in a handsome and somehow perfectly imperfect way. Dressed neck to toe in a red racing suit adorned with sponsorship patches up and down his sleeves and chest, with his matching red helmet clutched in his right hand with gloves held in the other. His brown hair sat on his head in curls that fell long on top but short on the side. He had protruding teeth that wasn’t off putting but charming. His matching brown eyes narrowed and scanned you up and down in obvious judgement and his brow slightly furrowed as he took in your outfit.

“I said, are you going to move?” His deep and heavily accented voice cut like ice as he pointed his helmet, motioning for you to move out of his way. “That’s,” He pointed the helmet then to the Ferrari behind you. “my car. Move.”

“You could have just said excuse me.” Amusement instead of annoyance bubbled up within you after realizing who this man in front of you was.

“I have more important things to do than dish out pleasantries, especially to those of your kind.”

“My kind?”

“A track girl.”

Your arms folded over your chest instinctively with his insults as you stepped out of the way, switching spots with him. “So you’re the Austrian rat.” You smirked, watching Niki check the very obviously undamaged paint from where your fingertips had barely grazed. “The great Niki Lauda. Favorite to win the championship. Obnoxiously rich. Dangerously talented and just oh so fast!”

Scoffing, he moved away from the lettering and knelt down to place his helmet and gloves inside the cockpit of the small box of death. “I should’ve known you were with Hunt.” He muttered just loud enough for you to hear.

“How do you know that?”

“The fact that he and his little girlfriends are the only one that calls me that.” His hands fiddled with something in the car as he seethed. Niki didn’t care about being called a rat, no, it was the sheer lack of respect that James had for him and preponderance of the nickname being used from James and his menagerie of women.

“Is that it?” Your hands fell to your hips as your eyebrow quirked up, knowing full well that some rude comment was about to slip off his tongue.

“And that you look like you belong in a gentleman’s club.” Niki didn’t even look at you as he declared his observations nonchalantly.

“You really know how to charm women, don’t you? No wonder you’re just so popular with the ladies. A real Casanova huh?” You teased, both of you knowing he was quite the opposite of Casanova. “You know, he told me about you.”

“What did he say?”

“He said you were an asshole.”

“Am I?”

“Are you?”

“Only to those I dislike.”

“So is that everyone?”

“Just about.”

“He also said you looked like a rat.”

“Do I?” He stood up at that and turned around to face you as he folded his own arms and sat down on the large rear tire, simultaneously nodding his head upwards as if to show off his rodent like features.

“Kinda but, not in the way I had imagined originally. You’re definitely hmm,” You brought your fist under your chin in fake deep thought. “…bigger?”

“Did you imagine an actual rat?”

“No, just a small, teeny tiny man with huge buck teeth.” Covering your mouth in fake surprise you gasped dramatically. “Oh my god! Maybe you are exactly what I imagined.”

“Funny.”

“Extremely.”

“Anything else?” He stood up to stand over you, looking down as he waited for some insult directly from the mouth James Hunt to spill out of your own.

“He also told me to stay away from you.” You looked up thru your lashes at the man mere inches in front of you.

Niki furrowed his brow in confusion. Stay away from him? What threat did his pose other than being an asshole? A million thoughts ran through his mind but unable to land on a single conclusion that made sense to him but, then again did James ever make sense?

“Kitten!” The tall blond that was James Hunt, interrupted any chance of Niki deciding on what the approaching man had meant.

“James.” Smiling as he wrapped his much larger arms around you, whirling you through the air in boyish delight as he smiled down at you before capturing your lips in a quick kiss.

“I was looking for you.” His larger hand brushed a strand of your hair out of the way and gently tucked it behind your ear. “I was hoping we could you know…” His blond eyebrows rose suggestively as he smirked down at you.

“Don’t you have any respect?” Niki spat, making his presence known once more.

“For fuck’s sake.” The Brit groaned dramatically at the reminder of who was there. His flirty demeanor changed to a much more serious and demanding one. “I thought I told you to stay away from him.” But it didn’t last long as James sucked in his upper lip and bit over his lower one to imitate a rat as he looked over at Niki. “Watch out love, he’ll make you lose a brain cell with every word that comes out of that ratty little mouth of his.”

You didn’t find yourself laughing at your boyfriends imitation of the other man. Instead, you looked over to Niki and smiled watching how his lips pursed in anger and his eyes narrow sharply. “We actually had a very pleasant conversation. Isn’t that right Niki?” He only scoffed and looked away from you and your false statement.

“I doubt that’s even possible with that shit disposition of his.” It was James’s turn to scoff and roll his blue eyes.

“Now, now James let’s not be mean, he showed me the utmost respect and kindness.” you wretched your eyes away from Niki and wrapped your arms around James’ neck.

“Oh really?” He leaned forward and let his forehead rest upon your own, his blue eyes looking into yours.

“Mhmm.” You leaned in as well and-

“Hey arschloch, next time you bring your play things around, tell them to stay away from the cars.”

“What did you do kitten?” James pulled away and his mouth opened in mocked shock.

“I-“

“I caught her messing with my car.” Niki motioned his hands to his chest. “She could’ve broken something or worse, gotten hurt. These aren’t the toys you think they are, Hunt. They’re killing machines.”

“But kitten didn’t do either, now did she?”

“No, but that’s not the point-“

“Then what is your point, rat?”

“I want you to keep better track of your little girlfriends and get them to stop bothering me and learn to be safer on and off the track!”

“Aww are you jealous?”

“Hardly.” Niki scoffed.

“I think he’s jealous kitten, would you say that the rat is jealous?”

“Hmm.” You looked him up and down, watching as the shorter man’s hands flexed and his jaw clenched so tight you were certain that he was going to crack a tooth. “I-“

“I’m not jealous of your obnoxious girlfriends or of you.” Niki interjected, pointing a finger at James. “I would never be jealous of you. Never.”

“It’s alright Andreas. It’s okay, I know you’re too embarrassed to admit you are.” James wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his own body, as he smiled down at you. “I would be jealous of me too. Is it possible to be jealous of me even though I am me?”

“I have things to do.” Niki changed the topic abruptly, clearly exhausted of James’ presence.

“You heard the rat squeak kitten, it’s time for us to go. Pleasure as always Niki.” He saluted the Austrian with two fingers.

“Bye Niki, it was nice meeting you. I hope to see you soon.” James didn’t wait for Niki’s response as he spun you around and lead you back to the pits.

“He’s just the worst, isn’t he?”

“I think he’s quite funny.”

“Funny?” James stopped in his tracks, pulling away from you slightly, looking down as his face contorted in confusion. “He insulted you. He’s a pig.”

“I know.”

“He’s a sexist asshole.”

“I know.”

“Darling-“

“I thought it was funny how he got riled up over you. Did you see the way he shook with anger? And the overly serious tone when he called you an asshole?”

“That wasn’t him being funny. It’s him being a dick.”

“I thought it was amusing.” You laughed to yourself recounting the encounter with the Austrian driver.

“Amusing.”

“In how much he hates you.”

“Well then the sentiments are the same.”

“I think he just needs-“

“To get laid.”

“James.”

“What? I’m right!”

“Whether you are right are not, he just seems…lonely.”

“The rat being lonely makes it right for him to say that to you?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“It’s not helpful to let his words get to me. Besides, I’m going to hopefully, kill him with kindness.”

“Aww are you going to melt the Grinch’s heart? Are you going to hold his hand and sing kumbaya around a giant Christmas tree?”

“Wow that’s a great idea! Would you like to join in our hand holding James?”

“Fuck no.”

“Shame. You’re going to miss out on such a beautiful friendship.”

next chapter ⌦

␛ to main masterlist

␛ to illicit affairs table of contents

#niki lauda #rush 2013 #james hunt x reader #niki lauda x reader #james hunt #fanfic #daniel brühl #chris hemsworth #not affiliated with the real james and niki #rush

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thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch · 3 years

Text

all three heartbeats

bakugou katsuki / f.reader

genre: married au (husband/wife), angst, hurt/comfort?, fluff, katsuki being a sap in lowercase

synposis: katsuki works full time as a prohero, but his time working to ensure the publics safety kept him busy- far too busy at times. he seeks comfort in you and his newborn little girl because the both of you keep him grounded and keep him fighting. he just wishes he could find a way to feel like a better father and husband.

w.count: 3.6k

a/n: hi hello i aint never written for bnha before and i thought i would never write anime fics again but here we are years after (it has been actual years, someone save me LOL). what better way than to start back out with blasty amiright?

It was one of those nights. Katsuki had just walked into his home at an ungodly hour and as he shut the door behind him, he leaned his back against it, He flicked all three locks of the front door shut and dropped his duffle bag at his feet before he tipped his head back to rest on the wood. He closed his eyes, sighing as he had the urge to just sink to the floor of the entryway landing and power nap.

Lord knows when his phone would buzz or ring again- his seemingly never ending work calling him to clock in again. It seemed like recently he never clocked out of his job- always working, patrolling, fighting petty villains trying to commit petty crimes and occasionally stopping more dangerous situations that kept him on edge and busy for hours to days on end.

The duffle he dropped at his feet was full with his gear and his hero suit that was in desperate need of washing and minor repairs- things that if he even muttered to himself about, you would happily offer your aid.

His closed eyes opened and his chin dropped back down, the back of his head coming off the door as he pushed the rest of his body off it as well. He heeled off his shoes and ruffled his hair as he finally walked into his home, leaving his duffle at the door as he made his way to the bathroom.

In all honesty, Katsuki wanted to go immediately to the room he shared with you where he knew you were asleep. He desperately needed a shower though, and he wasn’t planning on crawling into bed to hold you smelling like sweat, smoke and hero work.

You told him before you didn’t mind his post-work scent, in fact you told him it was charming in it’s own way since it was proof that Pro Hero: Dynamight worked harder than anyone else to one day be the No.1 Hero he’d been dreaming of his entire life.

Katsuki never told you, but he’d think about that almost everyday and it always made him smile when he did.

The shower he took was brisk and quick because all he wanted to do was go to bed. He couldn’t remember the last time he wasn’t just taking power naps on the couch at the agency. He couldn’t remember the last time he got to go to sleep in his own bed. Katsuki couldn’t remember the last time he got to hold you and it was starting to really piss him off.

Since graduating UA, getting engaged, married and then having a child with you, is tempter had considerably settled. He wasn’t entirely tame by any means, he was still a quick fire with insults, refused to use people’s names and stuck to stupid nicknames he thought of, cursed like a sailor and exploded when something mildly frustrating ticked him off- but he wasn’t like he was before.

When Katsuki can stand to be in the same room as Todoroki and Midoriya and not blow a giant fuse within the first sentence exchange, anyone would call that progress.

It was no shock that you were a large factor in his settled image- he had to start leaning self control and how to manager his attitude. The one extremely rocky point in your relationship with Katsuki back when you both were third years and you threatened to leave him if he didn’t shape up made him change. It wasn’t easy, but the arguments and fights you both had back then serve as a reminder of how far he had come according to you.

When Katsuki stepped out of the bathroom, he sighed- feeling refreshed- as he walked to the bedroom with a towel around his waist and another over his head drying his hair. It was way too late to be running the hairdryer, he’d risk waking up his child that he knew was otherwise dead to the world in their crib.

Twisting the doorknob as quietly as he could, Katsuki stepped into the bedroom and his eyes immediately looked to the bed, seeing your body’s shape beneath the comforter of the giant, Alaskan king bed you insisted you absolutely needed.

He felt his lips twitch as he left the door cracked to let in a small amount of light from the hall without stirring you. He went to his dresser and snatched a pair of shorts and a tank top and threw them on before he left the room as quietly as he had come in.

Katsuki went back to the front door and picked up his duffle bag, moving it into the living room and setting it on the couch to fiddle with it in the morning. He grabbed his phone from the side pouch of the duffle and began to shut the lights off and retreated back down the hall.

Before he went back to the room you slept in to join you, he stopped first in the room that was directly across the hall from his and yours and as quiet as a mouse crept in.

The nursey was painted in a pale yellow with sunflowers painted on the walls (curtesy of the bakusquad who insisted they were in charge of nursery decorations). Against the wall was a shelved cubby for toys and items for the baby and beside that was a changing table. Across the room was a tall dresser filled with way too many baby onesies and outfits for the future.

Katsuki walked to the white, wooden crib at the back of the room as the room itself was glowing in the soft, blue light of the baby’s nightlight. He leaned over the crib side and looked down to see his child sleeping just as quiet as can be.

He smiled as he reached down and stroked her chubby cheeks with the back of his knuckles. She was warm and soft.

“Hey there, Girlie,” he whispered, barely audible. Just watching his little girl sleep so soundly made his chest warm. God, he loved her so much. He frowned as he thought about how tough it might be on you while he’s away looking after her by yourself. She was barely a few months old and he hasn’t even had a weekend with you two yet.

Katsuki bit his lip to keep from letting the disappointment he felt in himself slip out in the form of growls.

He stuck around in the nursey for a few more minutes, just petting and admiring his child before he snuck back out and finally, finally went back to his room and as carefully as possible slid into bed.

You slept in the center of the bed that could easily fit four sleeping bodies, and Katsuki shuffled in further towards you before he was right behind you. He stared at your back in the dark room, his eyes adjusting more and more as the minutes pass.

Katsuki lightly grabbed your shoulder before he was pulling you to your back and then reaching over you to lay on your chest. On an ordinary day, Katsuki would be happy just holding you, but he felt especially worn out and drained. So, for once, even if you were sleeping, he just wanted to be held instead.

His cheek pushed into your chest, listening to your steady heartbeat beneath his ear. His right arm stretched over your shoulder to rest by your head and his left stayed beside his own body, his right leg hiked over your waist to be as close to you as he could get.

He felt his eyes roll before he shut them, finally feeling comfortable and warm and safe for the first time in days. He was finally breathing easy and all he wanted to do was stay here, in your arms, for the rest of his life.

As he started to finally doze off, his eyes fluttered open at the feeling of something carding through his hair.

He heard you take a deep breath before you were shifting just a bit to curl around him more and he felt your chin push against the top of his head.

“Go back to sleep,” he muttered, feeling your sleepy gaze on the top of his head. The small, sleepy chuckle that left your chest hummed against his cheek.

“Welcome home,” you whispered, sleep laced heavily in your voice as he felt your lips push against his scalp. “How was work?” You ask so innocently, but the question only made Katsuki burrow his face into your chest further. He doesn’t answer you, so you prompt him further. “Katsuki?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” he muttered, lifting his face just enough to speak clearly then pushing it back down again.

You say nothing at that and instead return to just carding your fingers through his semi-damp hair as you bask in each other and the silence of the house. You glance over to the alarm clock, seeing the time 4:03 am in orange, glowing numbers.

You feel like you have loads you want to talk about with Katsuki, things you want to share with him that had happened and things you want to have him tell you that’s happened, but it’s too quiet and too peaceful to bring them up. They’d have to wait.

“’m sorry,” he suddenly spoke from where he lay on your chest. Your fingers stop their mindless fiddling in his hair and he grips onto you tighter.

“What for?”

“Not being here.”

You felt your heart crack at the tone of his voice. He’s always been more open and mushy around you- as much as he denies it and he only get’s more open and more mushy when he was sleep deprived and just plain exhausted.

“I’m always working, always gone, always away doing fuck-knows-what out there and not here. I’m not home and that’s gotta really fucking suck.” He’s silent for a moment but you dare not speak. You feel like he’s been holding a lot in recently and if he’s choosing now to let it all out, you would silently encourage him to do that.

“I mean-” he scoffs at himself, “we’re married for fucks sake. We have a baby and I’m basically leaving you home alone day after day to raise her by yourself.”

“What?” Your shocked to think that’s how he feels. “Katsuki, that’s not-”

“It feels true,” he whimpers. “I feel like if I keep doing this, keep leaving you and Misuzu alone,” his voice cracks at the sound of his daughter’s name leaving his lips, “then you’ll both just disappear and I won’t even have the balls to go after you two.” You think you feel something wet seep through your sleep shirt, but you don’t say a thing about it. “I don’t feel like a husband and I don’t feel like a father. How can I feel like a hero if I can’t even spare the time to be with my god damn family?”

“Well,” you start. In truth, all you want to do is console him, but for all you know that could make him feel worse. You had to figure out what he wanted first. “What do you want to do then?”

He took a deep breath before he let it out again.

“I think I’m going to take some time off,” he concluded. It had been on his mind recently and now was as good a time as any. He just wanted to be home. “Maybe a week or two.”

“If that’s what you really want to do, then I think that’s a great idea. Just don’t forget to tell Eijirou or else he’ll blow a fuse if he just think’s your late because the great Dynamight is always punctual.”

You got a hearty puff of air and smile out of him for that little line. it was no shock that when all came down to it, Kirishima Eijirou and Bakugou Katsuki ended up working in the same agency.

“I’ll just text the bastard.”

“You need to tell the agency too, you dolt,” you lightly whacked him on the bed as he groaned. Getting time off wasn’t going to be hard for him considering the god awful hours he’s been forced into the past however long. Just going into the office to get that time off is annoying and a process he wish he could get someone else do to for him. “Just head out in the morning and let both your partner and your agency know. It won’t be so bad.”

“Whatever,” he huffed. “Just, go back to sleep.”

You glanced back at the clock to see that only about half and hour had passed. You sighed as you closed your eyes happily ready to return to sleep before Misuzu woke up.

You swore Katsuki was out before you.

-x-x-x-

You woke up three hours later, just after 7 am to the sounds of your daughter’s crying from her nursey. When you opened your eyes and sat up, your husband was no where to be seen.

You frowned, knowing that he was awake somewhere and he had only slept a few hours. Shaking your head, you got up and went to Misuzu’s room to get her from her crib and bring her into your arms.

You shushed the infant in your arms as you left the nursey and walked around the house. Katsuki was no where to be found and his everyday shoes were gone from the shoe rack next to the door. He must’ve went out already.

Not thinking much of it, you moved to the kitchen to grab one of Mizusu’s bottles from the fridge. One plus of pumping was getting bottles for the future- but that was one of the only pros among a number of cons.

With Misuzu being still so young, she didn’t do much beside nursing, napping and diaper calls. She would coo and whine and clutch onto your fingers and clothes and hair, but her energy was never prolonged.

After nursing, burping and playing with her she was yawning again. You left to place her back in her crib in her room as you let he sleep a little while longer. Flipping on the baby monitor, you left the room and went to the kitchen. Your daughter had breakfast, it was only fair that you got something to eat too.

As you scrambled the last eggs in your fridge, enough for Katsuki just in case you saw him this morning, you heard the front door open and shut again. You smiled as you heard footsteps come treading into the kitchen and you looked over your shoulder to see your husband.

You smiled at him as he rubbed the back of his head. Dressed in jeans that tore just slightly in the thighs and a t-shirt, Wwhen he saw you, he immediately started going towards you.

“Good morning,” you told him as he was at your side looking over your shoulder. “Welcome home.”

“Mmn,” he hummed at you.

“Where’d you go so early in the morning?”

“Agency.”

“You should’ve slept in a little bit more. You didn’t sleep long.”

“I didn’t want to wait any more to just be able to stay home.”

You smiled at his answer. You brought one hand up to pat his cheek as he leaned into your touch.

“Why don’t you go get comfortable if you’re staying home then?”

He hummed at you again, nodding before he kissed your shoulder and sauntered back into your shared room. He took his time getting changed and getting into more homey clothes, because when he came back into the kitchen you were placing your food on plates for the both of you.

This time, when he came to you, instead of standing beside you, he latched onto you from behind as he buried his face into your neck. You could tell from the feeling of his eyelashes tickling your skin that he was still tired. You had half a mind to tell him to just go back to bed and he could really wake up and eat later.

The way he tightened his grip on your waist and started to sway ever so gently back and forth in the kitchen made you stay silent though. It was a serene moment between you two and you just closed your eyes and basked in it. It had been so long since you just got to bask in him and him in you.

“You hungry?” You asked as softly as you could muster. He nodded but made no effort to try and move away from you. “Do you expect to eat with your face hidden?” You teased.

“Just a little longer,” he muffled, his breath making your skin rise with gooseflesh as it tickled.

Half and hour later, you were taking his plate from him as he cleaned it of food and went to put them in the sink. He jumped from his chair at the table before he was gently moving you away from the metal hole in the counter where you were about to wash the dishes you had dirtied this morning.

“I’ll wash them,” he insisted.

“I don’t mind doing it.”

“Don’t be so damned stubborn. You cooked, so it’s fair.”

You shrugged as you relented. “If you really insist. Thank you, Katsuki.” You placed a small, short kiss on his cheek before you moved back to the table to sit.

As he cleaned up the dishes, you sat at the table and fiddled with your phone, scrolling through apps to see what you missed and then flicking occasionally to watch Katsuki’s back.

“I feel you fuckin’ staring,” he spoke as he shut the water off, shaking his hands before he dried them on a towel. The dishes all sat in a plastic draining rack as he turned around and leaned against the counter. You placed your chin in your palm as you laughed at him.

“Yeah? Got a problem with it?”

“Not necessarily.”

You both jumped when a small whine was heard over the speaker of the baby monitor you had sitting on the center of the table. You pushed your chair out, but before you could even stand up, Katsuki was up and down the hall to check on Misuzu.

When you made it to her door, he had already lifted her out of her crib. She had reached up and snagged a tiny handful of her father’s hair as he hissed.

“Listen you little brat, just because your my baby doesn’t mean you can yank on my hair.” Her small fist only yanked down on his hair more as if to say ‘I can and will’. You chuckled as you walked into the nursey and started to detangle her hand from his blond hair.

Katsuki watched as her fingers released his hair and instead wrapped around your finger as you bounced it slightly. Her tiny arm moved in tandem with your finger bounces.

“Hey,” your soft voice calling him suddenly brought him out of his own mind. You gently pulled Misuzu’s fingers off you as you pushed your palm against Katsuki’s cheek. “Why are you crying?”

Was he? God, he hated crying- especially in front of you. He clicked his tongue, whipping his head to face away from you as he used one of his hands to quickly swipe under his eyes.

“I’m not.”

You smiled at him, holding back a laugh as you pushed your husband into the living room to let Misuzu play on the floor. Katsuki sat on the living room floor cross legged as you watched him play with her as she lay on her back.

Occasionally he would glance at the time and remind you to pump, as if your tender chest wasn’t a constant reminder anyway. You always just nodded and told him you would when you needed to.

The three of you spent the morning in the living room until the infant began to yawn back to back and rub at her eyes clumsily. You let Katsuki put her down for her nap in the afternoon since he never really had the opportunity to. Through the baby monitor you could hear him mutter and coo at her to go to sleep.

When she was down, Katsuki came back into the living room and sat himself beside you on the couch. He sighed, throwing his head back against the couch and closing his eyes, obviously ready for a nap himself.

“Why not try and sleep while she’s down?” You had planned on getting him to rest while you start to go through the duffle bag you had relocated to the corner of the room a while ago to see what all he needed done with his hero equipment.

He opened one of his eyes, seeing you eyeing towards his bag and he frowned. He shifted his body, snatched your waist and threw himself back to lay on the cushions, you following in tow to lay on top of him.

“Katsuki!” You scolded in a hushed tone as to not wake up your daughter who just went to sleep.

“I’ll nap here and you will too. No objections.” He brought one of his hands up to start stroking your head. “Just let me take care of my god damn wife for once.” You just shook your head and pushed your cheek further against his chest to get comfortable. When he says it like that, you can’t really bring yourself to oppose him.

“Hey,” you whispered. You felt him hum in response to you. “I love you.”

His legs shifted and his arms wrapped around you tighter, getting more comfortable. He let out a deep, comfortable breath as you felt him push his cheek into the top of your head.

“‘Fuckin’ love you too.”

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mozzarella-stickz · 2 years

Text

Random OC Headcanons pt. 1: Annie Harris

Warnings: NSFW stuff (she is 18 don’t worry!), vomiting mentions, divorce mentions

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- Annie has a collection of nail polishes, but really only ever uses the purple ones

- convinced Klitz to let her paint his nails, and now he always has one nail painted whatever color Annie has on at that time

- has played the piano since age 6

- moved from Ohio to Connecticut (I’m pretty sure that’s where the movie takes place - correct me if I’m wrong) in 6th grade

- went to Kings Island the summer before senior year with Klitz, Matt, and Eli, ate a giant blue ice cream before going on The Beast, and threw up blue all over poor Klitzy

- prefers diet sodas over regular ones, thinks they taste fresher that way

- caffeine addict, but prefers really sweet coffees

- her favorite music artist is Blondie, but secretly listens to Weezer

- her car is 10 years old, from 1994, and named it Stevie after Stevie Nicks

- wants to live in Nashville one day

- Star Wars is her favorite movies series, but she ADORES typical teenage 80s/90s movies. Her favorites are 10 Things I Hate About You, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, and The Breakfast Club

- Had a HUGE crush on Ferris, made Klitz dress up as him for Halloween with her as Sloane and Eli as Cameron (Matt refused to be Principal Rooney)

- kissed Eli once as a joke in 7th grade, he still brings it up to annoy her

- has IBS and has spent countless sleepovers in the bathroom (personal experience here)

- Likes to wear cute tank tops and baggy jeans, usually with a leather jacket if it’s cold

- however, always wears crew necks and shorts to bed, unless it’s hot as fuck which she wears t-shirts and shorts, or cold as fuck and she wears pajama pants and a crew neck

- takes really good care of her hair, likes it to be soft and silky

- Her phone is a purple Motorola RAZR

- Parents are divorced, and she lives with her mom and step-dad. Split was amicable and she likes her step-dad, but rarely gets to see her real dad because he moved to Arizona for work

- Her room is always messy

- Owns an ungodly amount of candles

- She and the Tripod tried to light them all, Eli knocked one over and now Annie has a permanent burn mark on her floor

- Her mom makes really good fried chicken

- Used to be an avid reader as a child, but now cannot get past the foreword

- Has a ring from her dad she always wears, it’s amethyst, her birthstone (sorry pic is kind of blurry, but you get the idea)

- considered getting a nose ring, but tried a fake one and it made her look stupid and the Tripod made fun of her for a week

- writes really cringy song lyrics in a notebook, once again, was found by the Tripod, resulting in torture mostly by Eli

- wants to try weed in college but is worried it will make her anxiety worse

- really scared about the Tripod splitting up for college

- really good friends with Danielle, appreciates having a girl in the group to help when things get crazy

- buys lacy underwear but usually hates the feeling so she wears cotton ones instead, wears the lacy ones only when she’s around Klitz

- her first date with Klitz, she got so nervous she threw up, he took her home and they cuddled on the couch while watching TV

- total virgin before Klitz, they learned together <3

- gets turned on when he looks at her over the brim of his glasses, which can be problematic when they’re studying together and she’s on top of him immediately

- tried to break up sometime in college for each other’s sake because of distance even though they were both in-state, Annie was more north

- it lasted two days before they called each other crying

- visit each other as much as they can

- do get married, have a daughter named Elise Matilda after Eli and Matt

- Annie becomes a speech therapist who does piano lessons, Klitz is a college professor for Physics

- they live happily ever after <3

#danonation #paul dano #danocel #fanfic #klitz the girl next door #the girl next door #tim klitz #klitz x reader #klitz imagine #klitz x oc #original character

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justfrozenthings · 3 years

Text

I Have Loved You Since Forever

Pairing: Anna/Kristoff

Rating: T (just to be safe)

Word: 2,641

Notes: This was just an idea that popped into my head so I figured I would write it because why not. Sorry for any grammar mistakes I have made because I know for a fact that there are some.

Summary: Church bells tolled for a wedding Kristoff has been dreading ever since he received the invitation in the mail.

He sat on a bench in the park absentmindedly running his fingers through Sven’s soft silky fur; the exact bench where he and a particular redhead would meet up to vent about all their troubles and get them off their chests. He remembered the many nights she had called, asking him to meet her at their place so that he could hold her as she cried. Sure, it usually meant getting out of bed at some ungodly hour, but damn he would do it for all eternity if it meant he could bring a smile to her beautiful freckled face. This time, however, instead of his ears being met with the heavenly sounds of her laugh; they were met with the sound of bells from the church nearby, sounding like death tolls with every breath that racked his body.

There was a wedding being held today; one that he had been dreading ever since he received the white envelope decorated with intricate golden scrolls.

Today was the wedding of Anna Arendelle, his best friend and love of his life. Yeah, you heard it right, he, Kristoff Bjorgman, was deeply and utterly in love with his childhood best friend. The friend he had told that he was unable to make it to her wedding during one of their daily park bench meetings. He could still hear the pain of her voice in his head.

“And why not?” Anna said sternly, trying to hold back the swell of tears in her eyes. He hated that he was the cause of them. “Don’t you want me to be happy?”

“Anna you know I do but-”

“Then come. Please Kristoff,” she croaked. “It wouldn’t be the same without you there.”

He stared down at his feet before he gave a deep sigh and stared back into her beautiful blue orbs again. She was wearing the pink beanie that he had gotten her one year for Christmas, and the matching scarf that came with it. Her button nose tinged with a light hue of red from the chilly autumn breeze that spread to her cheeks, her freckles looking like little stars twinkling in the night sky. “I’m sorry Anna, but I can’t.” And before she could say anything else he got up from his spot on the bench and left.

He couldn’t bear to hear her sobs as he walked away and he wanted so much to turn back around and tell her he was sorry and that he loved her and that he would do anything to never make her cry like that again. But he couldn’t, because he didn’t want her to see the tears that had formed in his own eyes.

Kristoff hadn’t noticed, but those same tears that had formed in his eyes the night before came back to visit him. He blindly wiped them away with the sleeve of his old high school hoodie; the purple letters were faded out and hard to read. He had told her he couldn’t make it to save his own heart, but he ended up breaking hers in the process.

Unable to last another minute on the bench any longer, he got up and whistled for Sven; who, at some point during his flashback, had trotted over to chase the frogs in the creek. He shoved his hands in his front pockets and walked with a slight hunch in his back from all the grief he was holding in as leaves of reds, oranges, and yellows danced and swirled around him. He needed to find solace, and there was only one other place he could do that.

Bulda’s was the local cafe owned and run by Kristoff’s adoptive mother Bulda and was another place he and Anna often found themselves visiting. At the beginning of their friendship, Kristoff was too afraid to tell Anna that he had been adopted because he was worried that she would judge him. Anna was his only friend at the time, besides Sven, still is in fact, and he didn’t want to lose that friendship with her. She eventually found out through some people at school, though this wasn’t until they were seniors in high school, and when she had asked him about it he figured that there was no reason hiding it. As he readied himself to lose the only human friend he had ever had, Anna placed her hands on his and told him that there was nothing wrong with that. It was at that moment when he realized that he had fallen hard for the feisty redhead sitting next to him.

Kristoff had smiled back at the memory; if only he had told her his feelings then maybe he wouldn’t be here wallowing in his own self-pity.

Maybe coming here was a bad idea, he told himself mentally. But before he could leave, Bulda attacked him with a big bear hug.

“Hi Krissy!,” Bulda exclaimed as she planted dozens of little kisses on his face.

He returned the hug causing him to smile only a little bit. It seemed no matter how dire or sorrowful the situation was, his mother always put a smile on his face. “Hey Ma’.”

Beulda unwound herself from her son’s embrace, “The usual I’m guessing?”

“You got it.” He tried putting on the happiest tone he could muster, but it was no use. He knew she could see right through.

“Okay,” Bulda said, eyeing him cautiously. “I’ll be back in a jiff.”

Not even five minutes later, Bulda had returned with a large slice of her famous Chocolate Eruption cake and a cup of hot cocoa with whip cream, chocolate drizzle, and chocolate shavings. It didn’t take long for Kristoff to notice that Bulda had only brought one fork. Usually, there were two, one for him and one for Anna. He had never been too much of a chocolate fanatic. He liked it just fine, but he’d choose something like vanilla over it any day. At least that had been true, he had realized before he met Anna. No matter what, he was always amazed by the amount of chocolate that such a small person could consume. It was impressive really, he wasn’t going to lie.

“So,” Bulda sighed as he plopped down in the booth next to him. “What brings ya’ here?”

“Well, I was in the park and decided to grab a bite to eat.”

“No,” Bulda shook her head. “What I mean is what are you here instead of at that church trying to stop that wedding?”

Kristoff let out a frustrated sigh and buried his face in the palms of his hands before bringing one of them up to run through his golden locks. “Ma’ I can’t just go crash someone’s wedding just because I have feelings for them.”

“Sure ya’ can. When it’s someone who loves ya’ back that is.” Noticing that her son was still not picking up on what she was saying Bulda continued. “Listen baby, I may be old and crazy but I know true love when I see it. And let me tell ya’ whatever Anna and that Hans guy have ain’t it.”

Annoyed, Kristoff shoved a forkful of cake into his mouth. “What exactly is it that you're trying to say Ma’?”

“I’m saying that Anna loves you and that you have a chance to win her over before it’s too late.” She rested her hand on his shoulder, “I know you love her Kristoff. And Anna loves you. Deny it as much as you like, but it’s the honest truth.”

“What makes you so sure?” he asked, still not buying what his mother was saying.

“Because I’ve seen the way she looks at you, and I’ve seen the way she looks at him. It’s not the same. She loves you Kristoff. She just needs help seeing it.” He stared at the cake, deep in thought as he ran his mother’s words through his head over and over. “And plus I’m never wrong,” Bulda winked before giving him a peck on the cheek and leaving to go wait on another table.

He sat there contemplating what his mother told him as he watched cars pass by through the window. He knew it was crazy, but he had to try. If things went wrong? Well, then at least he gave it his best. At least she would know that he loved her.

Quickly glancing at his watch, he sprinted out of the diner ignoring the honking horns and shouts of angry drivers as he made his way to the church. There wasn’t much time left.

Running up the steps of the church two at a time he burst through the two grand wooden doors. He couldn’t hear any music, which was a good thing he thought until he heard the priest prepare the couple for their “I do’s.”

“I object!” Kristoff practically burst through the doors of the nave sprinting past the pews and up to where the young couple stood.

“Kristoff? What are you doing here?” Anna’s brows were furrowed and a look of bewilderment spread across her freckle-painted face.

Kristoff’s chest heaved up and down, his voice labored with heavy breaths that shook his entire body. “I’m sorry Anna. But I can’t let you marry him.” His honey-brown eyes bore into her glittery blue ones, a small twinkling of hope reflecting in them. “Not before I told you.”

“Told me what? Kristoff, what's gotten into you?”

“Anna, there's something I need to tell you. I was too much of a coward to do it before and because of that, I missed my chance. So before you marry Hans I just need to let you know that I love you Anna Arendelle.” Gasps spread throughout the crowd and everyone sat there, mouth agape, including Anna. “If the feelings aren’t mutual then that’s fine. We’ll still be friends and nothing will change. I just had to finally get it off my chest.”

Anna blinked, her shocked expression never left her face. “Kristoff I-”

However, before she could say anything Hans had stepped in between them, he looked at Kristoff like he was some kind of fool. “Gee thanks for stopping by buddy, but unfortunately for you, it was a waste of a trip. Now if you’d please kindly leave so I can marry my fiancée that would be greatly appreciated.” Hans gave him a pat on the shoulder.

“No.”

Hans, who was currently heading back to his place next to Anna, turned on his heel. “What did you say?” Hans’s eyes shooting daggers into his.

“I said no. I’m not leaving unless Anna says so.”

This only seemed to make Hans angrier causing him to fist his hands. However, before he could lay a punch on Kristoff a streak of white ran past him. He was confused at what was going on at first, that was until he turned back to look at Kristoff, the scene before him sending him into total shock.

Anna had run over to Kristoff and had meddled her lips with his. “I love you too Kristoff. Always have.”

Hans shook with anger. In a flash, he grabbed a gun from the inside pocket of his tux and aimed it at Kristoff. Then, as if by some kind of miracle Sven came running in biting Hans on his rear end before he could pull the trigger. He cried out in pain, dropping the gun as he did so.

Everyone was evacuated from the building as soon as the fiasco was over. Fortunately, one of Anna’s friends she had invited worked for the local police station who had called in asking them to send a deputy over with a car so they could bring Hans in for questioning.

Wedding guests stood outside of the church conversing with one another as if nothing had ever happened, waiting to hear from Anna to see what was going to happen now that the wedding was obviously not going to continue.

“So,” Anna said from where her head sat on Kristoff’s shoulder. “Did you really mean it when you said you loved me?” She looked up to gaze at him, his eyes so welcoming and warm.

He placed a kiss upon the crown of her head. “Every word.”

“For how long?”

She smiled up at him and he had fallen in love with her all over again.“Since forever.”

“Me too.” They held each other tighter, relishing in their moment of bliss. “I just can’t believe I was about to marry a complete psycho. I’m just lucky my true prince charming came and saved the day.” Kristoff only responded by stroking her hair, hoping that this would bring her some ease. “Everyone’s still here. What should I tell them? I’d hate to send them back home, I feel like I should give them something.”

Kristoff tried to think of ideas. “Hmm…we could all go to mom’s cafe.” He nuzzled into the soft skin of her neck and a tiny giggle escaped her dainty pink lips.

“I’d love that.”

———

2 Years Later

Church bells rang throughout the town, but this time they made Kristoff’s stomach swell with happiness instead of sorrow.

As he stared at himself in the oak framed cheval mirror straightening his bow tie, he smiled at himself. He’d never been a tuxedo kind of guy, quite frankly he’d never been all that into dressing up in general. For today though, he would put up with it.

While he was excited, he wouldn’t ignore the fact that a tinge of fear had somehow peeked its way through. There was no denying the butterflies in his stomach.

A knock came from the door and Elsa, Anna’s older sister, peeked her head through once she got the “okay” that it was safe to enter. She asked him if he was ready before mussing up his hair a bit from its slicked-back style and adding any last-minute touches to his tux. “She always did say she preferred your hair when it was wild and free.” With that, she gave him a hug and left to go make sure everything was running smoothly.

Glancing at himself in the mirror one more time and letting a nervous breath, he left to go take his place at the altar. Kristoff walked down the aisle, which had been decorated with sunflowers, lace, and cream-colored ribbons, each step feeling heavier with anxiousness and exhilaration. The sun hitting the stained glass windows cast colorful hues on the cherry wood pews filled with family and friends. And as the music began Kristoff felt his heart flutter.

There was a parade of bridesmaids and flower girls. Even Sven got to join in having the very important job of being the ring bearer, carrying both rings tied to a white ribbon around his collar.

Suddenly people stood from their seats and the long exciting wait was finally over. Anna turned the corner, arm in arm with Elsa, her bluebell eyes swelling with tears of happiness. Her wedding gown was simple, nothing too extravagant. Its sleeves were made of lace with intricate flower patterns showing off her creamy freckled arms. The dress reached the end of her knees and buttermilk yellow satin ribbon had been tied around her waist. Sunflowers and baby’s breath had been woven into her ginger locks, the sun’s glow giving it a halo effect. She looked like a redheaded goddess.

She took his hands in hers, promising a vow of everlasting love. They slid their rings on one another’s fingers, thankful for there not being any kind of interruption. It was then, Kristoff realized, that confessing his love to Anna, two years prior, had been the best decision he would ever make in his life. Well, creating a child together from their love, who would be due in nine months time.

Ao3

#kristanna #kristanna fanfiction #my fanfiction

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circle-art-process · 2 years

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RECREATE YOUR MASTERPIECE

Fernando Amorsolo was a nationally renowned Filipino painter known for having rural life as his subjects.

I find Amorsolo's works really inspiring. He believes in painting the world in a warm and happy light, which is a fresh perspective from my pessimism. His attention to details, mood, and lighting was also super awesome.

I was planning on using acrylic at first, but my range of colors were very limited, so I opted for watercolor, which I just realized have an ungodly amount of for some reason. I don't even paint that much.

I was thinking about doing something about the rural scene. Fortunately, I grew up in a rural area, which is currently in the process of urbanization. Luckily, I still have my childhood memories to hold on to.

I took a photo from my backyard as inspiration. Some people used to tend to the area there, but they stopped for some reason. Now, it's overgrown with wild greenery.

I then looked at some of his works for reference. The compositions look so warm and detailed. As expected from the national artist.

Next, I sketched out my ideas on my trusty sketchpad. At this point, it seems like only I could understand them.

I then made a final sketch on my 12x18in canvas. I used a 5h pencil.

When I went to the Mall of Asia recently, I learned about the art store next to National Bookstore. I was thrilled when I saw the masking fluid. I saw it once being used by a fancy watercolor art account online, but I could not find it in any stores until then. It was exciting finally getting to try it.

I then watched some watercolor tutorials on YouTube and tried my best in painting.

And then I finished, but realized I took to long as it was already past the deadline.

The painting is a family of three harvesting water spinaches (kangkong). The father is wiping away a sweaty brow, while the mother is holding a basket containing their produce. The son is working diligently at the back. Their clothes are a reference to the colors of the Philippine flag.

Of course, I could never amount to one of the greats. As of now, that is. I guess I failed at capturing the warm effect using color theory. I am pretty colorblind after all. This looks more cool than warm with all the blues and greens. The colors look a bit dull. I suppose I have my low quality watercolors to blame for that, or maybe it's just me. Despite all that, I'm still pretty proud of this work. I never knew I was capable of producing something like that traditionally.

Approximate time: Around twelve hours. Watercolor takes time to dry, but is very rewarding! I mean, look at those soft and blending effects. So pretty!

#fernando amorsolo #painting #watercolor #history of philippine arts #apir !!!!!#labyu sir bilog

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rouiyan · 4 years

Text

𝘖𝘝𝘌𝘙𝘊𝘈𝘚𝘛 𝘚𝘒𝘐𝘌𝘚 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘛𝘏𝘖𝘚𝘌 𝘞𝘏𝘖 𝘋𝘐𝘌 [ 𝘭.𝘫𝘯 ]

⧏ the second volume of rouiyan’s debut series, till death do us part ⧐

synopsis: “i will keep you,” he says softly, as sweet as black tea, “and i will keep you warm.” (Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless)

✧ prince!lee jeno x crown princess!reader ✧ royalty au

✧ genres : fluff, angst ✧ word count : 5.0k ✧ disclaimers : brief descriptions of nudity (nothing sexual), allusions to sex (nothing explicit), malintent

read volume one here: of the heart.

when the moon, in all her glory, begins to set, Mother Nature begins each new day by inhaling the misfortunes of the day before and blowing out frigid breaths in their stead. this morning is no exception for nothing is so clear as the wisps of fog that lie just beyond the horizon, a velarium of sorts, over the forest canopy. the sun is a little early today, but it is for naught, since its rays are caught between the tendrils of fog right as they begin to show. perhaps Mother Nature woke up in a bit of a fit today, seeing as the skies are already oozing the grays before the blues have yet to surface. Her fingers gently stir the clouds to ensure that they collide right where the earth most needs it and She's joyful in the sense that Her work can be admired from far down below. after all, the paintings She conjures in the skies are nothing short of masterpieces.

like a ceiling folding in with the pressure of water leakage, the clouds from down below give off an air of distress. the air itself is heavily encumbered with a clarity found only after the rainiest of days. and if not for the sake of the story, the author could spend hours droning on about Mother Nature's tour de force, she really would, but instead she will insert a few lines from a symphony:

The autumn mist drifts blue over the lake,

The blades of grass stand covered with frost,

The flowers' sweet scent is gone,

An icy wind bends down their stems,

My heart is weary.

Der Einsame im Herbst (The lonely one in autumn), from Mahler’s Das Lied von der Erde

in the exact opposite sense that Mother Nature loves her leaves, with tender fondness and a forgiving hand, prince jeno's father has never loved his second son more, with an impassioned sneer and a bagful of riches in mind. at least, that is exactly what prince jeno himself thinks as he skims through yet another letter, this time from his father.

son,

never did i think i would enjoy the prospect of a winter ceremony as much as i would this, perhaps you would also like to see an early coronation. i've made the necessary arrangements, i assure that you will not be suspected in the least but keep caution and wariness by your side, our family name is already a great deal tainted. thought not for long, i'll be sending a carriage to retrieve you for your rounds back home, we've ought to get going on them. the damsel is a sight for sore eyes, i presume, i'd hate for her to foil our ambitions; she is much in your hands to attend to now. i'll see you by the throne soon, my lad.

king of the southern mines, your father.

the prince's vision narrows upon the words 'coronation, arrangements, suspected, foil, throne,' and he is already a sight of frustration, fingers gripping the paper with such force that his short nails are digging into his palms through it. seething, he tears his eyes from the script before him but instead, they land on the previous letter sat atop the open escritoire. the one from his mother. the stamped edge of the paper lifts with the wind that filters through the window just above it and he has the sudden urge to let it be carried away wholly. jeno crosses the room in four steps.

with both the pages collected in his hands, jeno crouches by the mantle, the roar of a fire licking up before him. his face is drawn in concentration, jaw stiff and clenched. the lines of his brows are met with a furrow in between, set above the meek lines of his eyelids. his pupils dilate, albeit out of habitual need, in the reflection of the inferno before him. he's ever-so-aware of the distinct scent of burning coals that siphon and sharpen his reminiscence of home. it's sentient, the feelings of familiarity that overcome his senses, halting his movements, his fingers clutching the papers in a way that almost tells of longing. longing of a seemingly different world entirely, one that he has only ever known until a few weeks prior. being washed anew in distant lands and over the course of a single lunation, jeno finds that he's never felt more mismatched from himself, disconnected from the people who raised him in contrast to the people who have brought out the better in him. but the embers are not the only thing he smells, not the only he sees, or heeds to.

the pearly carrara marble of the mantle tells stories in the grayed lines that trail across its posh surface. his eyes rove over the white, the faith and purity of your heraldry binded with the emblem of your family. the white of angels, of untainted relations, sterility in empowerment, the inviolable you. the white tells stories that the black never could.

so jeno finds a warm pleasure in the way the flames overwhelm the papers with eager enthusiasm, the damned words of his parents receding into mere ash. prince jeno thinks he could forever part with the world if it asked him to feast his eyes on this very sight until the end of time.

despite arousing before the sun, you are disappointed when it starts to chase your wakefulness. there is something edging the growing unease in your mind, as if time is trickling down the drain of the past, too fast and too unforgiving. as if time is berating at your senses, telling you there is much more than what meets the eye but for the life of you, you cannot pinpoint what. for now though, you tend to the pressing matters at hand, jeno has been called home for his rounds, rather abruptly.

"perhaps i should go with you, rounds don't always have to be made by one per-”

jeno cuts you off effectively, "they are very much a one person duty," he assures pointedly. your nose scrunches, the light inconveniences starting to rub off on your exasperation. in a tired voice you mumble, "we could always change it up a bit, i'm sure." jeno chuckles heartily at that, his hand coming up from his side to rub out the lines of stress in your forehead.

"little miss princess, you're saying that as if you do not have rounds to complete of your own. i'm almost certain you host are a far greater amount of people that wish to be invited to the ceremony than i have-"

it's your turn to cut him off now, "why don't you stay with me then?" in attempts to enhance the force of your resolve, you uncover a hand of your own from under the sheets to comb through his locks. the way his eyes instantly close to relish in your touch paired with the little purr he gives is almost telltale of your victory. almost.

jeno pauses, his eyes flicker back open, and a soft knowing smile runs along the features of his face as he shakes his head, in knowledge of your artful tactics to wear him down. "and neglect my kingdom and their desires?"

you've left the feelings of frustration behind, instead deciding to fool around with the boy, to see what you can get out of him for good fun, "but we've yet to decide what flowers to use as centerpieces. and whether we're throwing a private or public ball. wedding preparations are surely more important than handing out personal invites…we can cut corners one some niceties." jeno knows better than to let his guard down. the jeno around y/n isn't to be trusted as easily. he settles for words of comfort instead, "i'll write."

"well, that's of course. silly of you to voice something as unequivocal as that."

a pause and his resolve is slipping, "maybe a few short visits back wouldn't hurt." you lick your lips in good-natured fun, another pause, "i'm sure my father wouldn't half mind if we cut it a week short." your eyes look hazy to him, though in reality they are simply amused, and drawing words from him he isn't even sure he's saying. "or- or maybe i could convince him, or try to at least…," he trails on and on.

your satisfied a certain amount and, suppressing a smile from giving away your plotted schemes, you mutter quietly, mostly for your own pondering, "i'm thinking alliums would make a statement, blue alliums." jeno gives a noise of confusion, unsure of how you've suddenly come to talk of flowers. "the centerpieces, i mean." jeno's silence only urges you on, "alliums, or blue alliums at that, are symbols of unity and good fortune. i think that'd make a nice combination with a base of milkweed, dignity and freedom, if my memory serves me right."

the prince has found his voice, "what of the rounds?" but he's met with a small chortle, "nothing, a month is a month, i'm sure we'll work around it."

"but, i- i'm not sure i understand. you were adamant enough a millisecond ago, and now-"

"and now i'm telling you i was toying with you, dear sir. such fun it is when you let on more than you'd like."

jeno's cheeks flush, the warm color dusting the bridge of his nose, apples of his cheeks, tips of his ears. your warm smile and benign banter bring him the simplest of joys. he's not sure he's ever felt this way before. familiarity. and, not the familiarity that comes from his assigned butler since birth, or the old lady at the apothecary he's been to all his life that's paid to tend to his wounds. not the familiarity that comes with blood and playing house, the type of sickened familiarity he feels with his brother, doyoung, that every second spent with him is forced. the familiarity he feels with you is by choice, by genuine and sincere desire. you want to wake up in the mornings with him by your side. you want to spend breakfast pushing each other's toes away underneath the table. you want to hold his hand when he walks you to your carriage. you want to make love with him in the most ungodly hours of the day. which is exactly what happens that morning.

a day is barely enough to do all the things you've penned in your journal. things to be done before you were to be married, with the one you were to be married to. the list had been written, curated, and refined by nine-year-old you, who you must say, had some very good ideas, though verily a romanticist.

jeno is departing tomorrow morning, as early as the sun will permit, and suddenly you wish that it would never rise again. whatever the case, you set out first thing this morning, hand tugging along a very tired prince, for the bathing pool. nine-year-old you must have misinterpreted the meaning of 'skinny dipping' for swimming but you thank nine-year-old you because things seem to have worked out in your favor either way. jeno is jolted awake by the gelid water, the seasons now mark three-quarters into fall.

"go in first," you state simply, hands on your hips and eyes drawn down into the water. the single toe you had dipped in to test the waters is frigid and frozen. jeno, who has yet to finish undressing himself, nodded at your words. if he were looking in your direction he would've noticed the smirk on your face. he stands straight, boxers on the ground behind him as he takes place by your side, "cold?"

"not at all, surprisingly," he's looking at you now and your countenance can't help but decompose in front of him, a small, unsuspecting smile adorning your lips. "oh really, can you attest for that?"

the smile is now blossoming unto your cheeks, "are you telling me to go in first?" the prince nods at that, fully aware of your schematics, "yes, i would like to see you enter the warm water."

"you agreed to go in first just a few seconds ago, don't tell me you've backed out on your word," a feeble matter against the boy but he defends himself by saying, "devious little princess, as if this wasn't your idea."

you're equally defensive when you point out, "not me, directly, but rather me as a child-" he pushes you in. lee jeno, second prince of the esteemed southern kingdom pushes you into the subzero degree bathing pool.

assuredly though, he dives in a few seconds after he's had time to relish in your shocked expression and piercing screams. he's coming up for air, his hands have found your bare hips to make sure that you resurface together. or drown together, you think, because it seems his foot is caught in the crevices between two rocks and since he's writhing like a madman, you're writhing with him too. it's a strange sight, two very beautiful individuals, absolutely in love but absolutely inane, for if jeno had thought to let go of his grip on you, you might've been able to unlodge his foot altogether if he had not been set on wrangling both your bodies about.

it's four minutes later that the two of you are on the leveled bronze rock, now, absolutely loosing it over jeno's lack of common sense. both of you are having trouble breathing, spurts of water still occasionally gushing past his lips. he thinks you're most beautiful in your bare skin, with nothing to define you but yourself. he's running his fingers up and down your torso, lips connecting with the surface of your neck. he appreciates that you kiss him with such avidity, you always do. jeno loves that you make it known to him, that what you say, you mean. and that even if you were never to utter a word again, he would still understand the sheer vehemence with which you love him.

you cross off paragliding, building a snowman, and studying together for a test. not because they've been completed but because there simply is no plausible way to get them done with the deadline closing in fast. the next activity you present to jeno has his eyebrows raised in intrigue. he's quick to reply when you ask him.

"a moon, a quartered moon." the knowing smile that grows on your face tells him he's chosen correctly.

jeno gives a squeeze to your hand as the needle comes in contact with your clean skin. the first few minutes are highlighted by the sensation of a million bee stings, racking through your brain, but the rest is relatively smooth sailing. yours comes out just as good as jeno's, a small moon, a quartered moon, tattooed into the skin just behind the left ear. there specifically, so that it's known by each other and each other only.

there will be months passed before the moon becomes a sort of unspoken but affirmative communication instrument. when jeno loves you a little too much, he rubs the inked skin softly. his sleepless nights are cured with the pad of your finger upon the spot. between the many general meetings you're required to oversee in a day, jeno waits outside the conference room for you to exit, his fingers stroking the moon for the duration of the few seconds allotted to him before you're whisked away again. the symbol of night is translated into accounts of bonding, the smallest of things giving way to happiness.

you would say the uses of the 'lovemark' are amplified as the sun retreats and the mascot of your relationship shines brighter than ever. it's evident in the look on jeno's face, especially, a few feet below you, peering up your skirt with a dumbstruck look on his face.

"jeno, dear, now is really not the time." the boy clears his throat and looks away, baffled at how you'd caught him anyways. your position is so frightfully awkward, one foot on the top end of your chamber's windowsill, another bent and hoisted onto the flat ledge of your roof. "come on up now, and get those dirty thoughts out of your mind. for heaven's sake, we're here to watch the sunset and stargaze, not to pound into each other."

the prince laughs at your offhanded remarks, arriving himself on the platform. the view is expansive in the way that you can see the forest from here, the ocean if you squint, the hills set in the far distance, and the sky has never felt closer to the earth while the things you've always known to be near appear smaller and more distant than ever. even the gregarious tree stalks of the forest rise to what could be measured as an only inch from this outlook.

"nine-year-old y/n seems to have known nothing but fun days." jeno muses, leaning his weight back upon his hands. your eyes are glazed in an omniscient mist, "i'd expect so, she was born and raised with everything." the prince picks up on the tone of distaste with which you'd spoken your words. he turns to you and studies the hairs that fall in your eyes, "hardly fair."

you reply not a beat after, "not at all fair. if i were to accomplish one thing during my run as queen, i'd give the children opportunities of a lifetime." the thoughts tumble out of your mind, as if you'd known of this conviction of yours since you were but a child. your drive as a ruler, firm and headstrong to implement your values and beliefs on your subjects has been the sole idea that's grounded you in the castle for your entire time being.

"and what if you cannot?"

your first reply is dealt with in humble humor, "at the very least, i'd like it to be engraved on my tombstone that i tried." the second, is laden with a sorrowful undertone, "housing, schooling, meals and warmth in the winter. we have it the worst here up north. if they are without school, they are left with nothing." jeno's head turns to yours, he sees the slip of a tear and he wipes it away, only to be met with another. your voice cracks in despair, "there are no mining jobs to take up, no farms to harvest, aqueducts to run. i dread that one day i must rule a kingdom of arts."

jeno tries, he really does, to gather you in his arms but your sobs rack your body with such force that he is left to comfort your desolations with words and a hand on your back, "what is there to dread? are the arts so difficult to maintain?"

bitterness forms at the tip of your tongue, "no, jeno. i regress in the face that art is invaluable. but the world seeks to attach a price to every viable thing, to label the passion of others. and now, now the arts are for the rich, only for the rich. have you ever heard of a hungry man paint instead of seeking shelter from the rain? a woman who writes prose instead of feeding her dying children? there is no one who can live solely on art but the heavens have sent me to rule a horde of those very people."

the prince knows you need to voice the thoughts weighing down your mind, so he gives them a platform, a nudge, "a kingdom of arts would be blessed to house a queen with intentions such as yourself, surely there are others who hold the same principles as you."

"no doubt," your eyes cast on the forming stars, "but as much as i would love to trail a path of meliorism and say that with a tide of willingness, there will be change, i must not forget the real nature of the world we live in."

"and what is this nature that you speak of?"

"the drive of greed and sadism, in exchange for the feeblest of pleasures."

the world comes to a still in this very moment. the moon begins her ascent. the stars unsheath their full luminance. the whites of their gleam reflecting on the rooftop on which the two of you are sat. time and space shrivel in the potency of untainted humanity.

"we will bring change, you and i."

you feel your heart calm as your rambling ceases. jeno looks over at you and smiles.

prince jeno is scheduled to return in twenty seven days time. there is something that feels wrong about him leaving. a feeling that if he leaves, all hell with turn loose and you will be unleashed unto the dogs for ravaging. there is a coated and unspoken thought that splutters in your mind whenever you even dare so much as to begin to think of it. the possibility that with jeno's leave, you'll be left with the realization that it was all a phase of infatuation. that when you see him again, all the feelings that you'd built up over the course of a month and a few days was just a glamourized dream. that he was never real; the real that you needed.

"i'll be forever thinking of those lips on mine, maybe even missing them," you let, comically. jeno eyes you conspicuously, "and i'll be forever thinking of you, as a whole, not just the lips unlike you. a little fixated you sounded there, mind you." his little sniggers are given in response to your hands pushing his chest in frisky response. the prince pulls you closer into a final embrace, the coachman of his black carriage is awaiting his departure.

he parts from you and you can't help but trail behind him down the paved path. he's over his shoulder now as you let loose a sliver of your deepest worries, meekly, "i hope we never change, jeno."

the prince halts at the bottom steps that curl into the palace. he sees you, feels you, knows you, for he quotes, “i will keep you,” he says softly, as sweet as black tea, “and i will keep you warm.” (Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless)

jeno can hear the light pellets of raindrops hit the roof of his carriage. the gray skies are darkening by the second, it's telling him something that he's sure he doesn't want to hear. his fingers fiddle with the cuffs of his tailored suit jacket, something you'd requested be made for him when his stay was first prolonged. the prince is entirely clad in white and he knows enough to imagine the face his mother will make when she first sees him home. lee jeno doesn't remember a time when he's donned a color other than black, but somehow, the white doesn't feel too far from home.

with the white, his mind flashes with the events of the past month or so spent in your noble abode. you, on the other hand, rarely ever wore a color other than white, the most differing shade being a cream or beige. but even with all the lights, you never seemed to mind when they were dirtied. almost always, a day in the fields or by the bathing pool would drench a good six inches of your skirts in mud and the unfurled hems of your frocks or crinkled fronts of those sweaters you so often adorned were always beyond your notice. you were free in that way, never stopping to fuss over the little things you deemed unimportant. jeno thinks if he could live that way too and though he isn't sure if he can, he knows he wants to.

jeno can hear the spindles of the carriage gyrating with added resistance against the now watered-down mud of the trodden roads. his eyes are caught in the sky that looks as if it's to detonate at any given second. he predicts the thunder before it rings loud in his ears and he hears the coachman slash a whip to a trepid horse, an echo of the natural phenomenon. he wonders what it would feel like to be the coachman, out in the clamorring downpour, or perhaps the horse, blindlessly running to the crack of a whip, or the trees even, awoken by the threat of a fire. he wonders if he has any desire to be the lightning itself, to jab at the delicate foliage as he'd like, to set fire to that of which he doesn't like, to wield destructive power. he wonders, but he knows he doesn't want to.

lee jeno is in his carriage when he realizes what it means to be free, but not in the hindrance of others. he realizes what it means, not to rule but rather to guide without the oppression of others. lee jeno is also in his carriage when the skies turn black and a deluge of rain is unleashed upon the castle of white.

a man a few inches brief to the prince, but of higher rank in swordsmanship, is propped on the limestone trellis that holds the awning in place, his two feet hooked between the vertical balusters of stone and fingers clung onto the ridge of the balustrade. he finds it ludicrous that every individual of importance he has ever met, is so caught up in their own belief that they are untouchable, where in reality they are the most vulnerable of all. he thinks this, specifically, as he upturns himself over the railing and onto the landing, only to see that the king's door are left wide open, the only shield of protection being the pristine white curtains glinting a sheen of blue in the moonlight.

renjun is humored when, upon drawing the curtains back, the king himself is simply laying there on the ground, unconscious as he was informed he'd be. the knight presses two fingers to the inner wrist of the withered man and finds that he still has a job to finish. brandishing a blade from the underside of his calf, he deems the inscription on the handle fit for the deed. he drives it into the gut but makes quick work of it, the sputters of blood that erupt from the now-awakened royal something he wishes the guards just outside not to hear. renjun makes further assurance that the blade is firmly put in place, the stout palladium shaft protruding from the king's abdomen like the ring of a windup toy.

a black body bag is used to sheath the quickly-paling bag of bones. it is left under the light of the moon, through a skylight rounded in the dead center of the palace. around the malefaction, stairs wind in all directions from the ground up and if there were even one maid to have crossed the landing once in the night, she would have been met with what looked to be an unassuming trash bag. but fate had it so the sun would rise before your dead father was stumbled upon, an inscribed shank planted between his internal organs reading, this star-like solitude (Giuseppe Ungaretti, from Last Choruses for the Promised Land: XVI (tr. by Patrick Creagh)).

the blood that seeps from the measly opening in the bag is not silver, nor is it gold. it is blood red. the red of a brazen senex that perhaps preceded and proceeded his times, entangled in the intricacies of the new age, the new game of politics he simply had no means to play at. akin to the webs of an arachnid, the string of fate hung around his neck, thin and unnoticeable, cinching with each passing second until Mother Nature deemed his time up. the blood that seeps writhes in the rays of the sun, twines like the veins in the marble beneath it. it seeps until the figure in the sack is drained and the clumping skin of human remains is the same shade as the white tiling. red against white, white against black, the black of a crying sky.

read volume three: dearly departed.

✧ end note — i had such a hard time trying to pull this outta my ass in a way that captures everything i wanted to say. so thank you for reading this piece. it’s one of my most favorite things i have ever written, undoubtedly.

#nct fics #nct scenarios #nct ff #nct jeno #nct lee jeno #jeno x reader #jenoxreader #jeno imagines #jeno fluff #jeno angst #jeno blurbs #rouiyan fics #rouiyan writes

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beelzebubisbestwaifu · 4 years

Note

Okay, so can I request for Belphegor and Beelzebub being soft yanderes? Like I love those bois so much- Also I wanted to ask, how do you have any tips for someone that's planing to start to write?

Can do bby.

Personally I didn’t really get seriously into writing until I started my creepypasta blog (like 2-3 years ago) and before then I didn’t do too much writing. But the best tips I have are:

Write what you love to read! It really helps with motivation to write.

Read read read read read read read. It helps with finding the right words and descriptions for your own writing. It also helps with developing the kinds of writing styles you enjoy.

If you can’t FEEL yourself in the scene while reading it then try re-writing or heavily editing. If you cant feel it your audience wont either.

Time often helps with writers block. Take a moment, make something to drink, and then sit down to look over your work. I’ve sometimes had to delete works I’ve spent ages on bc I realized I was forcing a concept that didn’t work at all.

Change the font/color/highlight of what you’re writing. Your brain often overlooks errors it sees a million times so by tricking it into thinking you’re reading something new you’re tricking it to actually proofread.

Good luck!!

Sharing is Caring

Beelzebub x reader x Belphegor - Soft!Yandere: Some smutty stuff but mostly fluffy stuff.

“Isn’t it kinda weird you guys share everything?” I hum, carefully sorting a comically huge pile of socks. The room smells of fast food and laundry detergent, perfectly matching the stupid amount of clothes needing to be folded.

“Yeah but we don’t mind,” Belphie hums, sorting his shirts from his brother’s, “We’ve been sharing everything since we were angels, after all.” I nod, setting a lonesome sock into the single pringle pile. Beel carefully folds some pants, his stoneset features unmoving as he sorts.

“Even lovers?” My eyes squint as I giggle at my own joke. The intent of course being to cause Beel to react in any way shape or form. The serious second youngest looks up, his tone smooth and calm.

“Why? Are you applying?” I honestly can’t tell if he’s being serious and that makes my blush even worse.

“What??” stammering, I search for a matching purple sock to go with the one in my hand, “I was just joking, guys...” Belphie lets out a lazy little snicker, stringing a shirt onto a hanger. Embarrassment blossoms in my chest like an overexcited squirrel in a pillowcase. Being around demons should teach me to not be so sensitive. After all, it’s not like they’d actually genuinely want to be with me in that way, right? I’m human??

“How cute,” Belphegor mumbles, one eye peeking out from his mop of messy bluish hair. I huff, glaring down at the socks like I’m about to avenge my family and complete my sock-based revenge anime arc. Having finished with the pants, Beel comes over and plops down by my side to assist in the sock avalanche.

“C’mon now Belphie,” Beelzebub huffs, delicately folding together two socks and tossing them into his own little pile, “Teasing them isn’t nice. They were kind enough to assist with our little laundry issue, after all.” How grateful can one be for a muscular demon who eats an ungodly amount? He is right, though. After Mammon’s little “get rich quick” scheme messed up and basically wrecked all of Beel and Belph’s clothes, nobody was willing to actually help them with the cleaning. Mammon is still suffering in Lucifer’s room listening to the lecture, Leviathan hid in his room, Asmo is off being Asmo, and Satan....was actually fairly helpful in collecting the soiled clothes. I couldn’t leave my boys to deal with this nonsense alone, I just can’t be that cruel.

“I understand, Beel,” The sloth avatar nods, moving from shirts to dress clothes, “But you must admit, it is cute when (y/n) gets all flustered.” I cannot bring myself to look up and acknowledge what Beel’s reaction is, but judging by the pleased hum it wasn’t something I agree with. “Hey, that reminds me,” Belphegor’s sly little tone strikes a chord deep in my lungs, the feeling of a love unconfessed I suppose, “Do you have anything you’re going to do when you get back to the human world?” The question actually kinda melts my resolve a little, shoulders drooping as I focus on the task at hand. At first going home seemed like such an excitable event, but now I kinda don’t want to leave.

“Well,” I sigh, “I’m probably going to enjoy some non-strange human foods. No offence but it’s odd being in a culture where you can just buy some brains at the supermarket.” Beel nods in understanding, the food in Devildom is quite bizarre when placed beside human food. “Then I’m probably going to cuddle up and sleep in my own bed. There’s nothing quite like the mattress at home yknow? Even if it kinda sucks. It’s just nice because it’s yours and it smells familiar.” Belphie gives a shy smile, watching me with his one looming eye. “Then maybe I’ll get around to the stuff I’d been putting off for so long.”

“Oh?” The sleepy youngest hums, sitting down next to Beel and I to take a break, “What do you mean by that?” I hum, letting my guard down and focusing on the socks.

“I was kinda putting it off,” I admit, blush creeping onto my cheeks, “But I think I’m gonna hop back into the dating game. I never really took it seriously, but being around immortal demons kinda puts the perspective on the shortness of human life.” at this point my companions have stopped sorting and are staring at me like I’ve murdered someone. “I was approached by an old friend of mine, someone I had once had feelings for, and asked on a date. And I think I’m gonna say yes. Could lead into something amazing for all I know.” I grin at the twins. “You never know unless you take the leap!” The boys stare, serious expressions painted onto their, in my opinion, perfect faces.

“Huh,” Beel hums, “I guess you’ve got quite the to-do list. But I think your advice is sound. Sometimes in life you need to take the leap.” Belphie grins up at his brother, the two sharing a warm glance before Belphie clears his throat.

“(y/n), you must be exhausted,” He hums, “You should go take a nap. Beel and I can finish up here.”

“Are you guys sure?”

“Positive.” Beel gives me one of his patented too-adorable-for-words-closed-eyes-smiles and I nod, standing up and giving my favorite set of twins a wave goodbye before leaving.

The hallways are silent as could be, the chaos surely taking place in one of the boys’ various rooms within the house. But despite the eerie calm over everything, my chest remains warm and full. Helping the twins out always puts me in a ridiculously good mood. A sleepy, slightly peckish mood though. I walk off and grab a cookie from the kitchen before slipping into the serene blue-hued room I’ve come to call home.

I know I’ll miss this bed. I’ll miss the mattress and the smell of the pillow. Even now as I wake up from my nap I still find joy in it’s warmth. The way the covers wrap around me so tightly, the way the warmth creeps up my neck, the way the pillow’s heartbeat pounds in my ear...

“hMm?” I grumble, opening my eye in utter confusion. Of course my pillow doesn’t have a heartbeat. It also doesn’t have arms and also doesn’t smell like fast food and laundry detergent.

“Shhh,” whispers a voice from right by my ear, “let’s not cause a ruckus, cute little snugglebug.” Belphegor’s chest shakes from his contained chuckle as he holds me closer.

“Your hair smells so good, (y/n),” Beel hums, burying his nose in my hair and humming, “Like a snack.” The weightlifting demon keeps me pinned between him and his younger smaller twin with one arm.

“G-Guys?” I whisper, squirming and letting out soft little noises of struggle, “What’s going on?”

“We’re taking a leap,” Belphie chuckles, “Taking advantage of things we’ve been putting off, so to speak...And I would stop squirming if I were you.” Of course, being a human being with an ounce of common sense, I begin to squirm harder between them.

That is until I hear Beelzebub let out a deep rumbling groan.

It’s at that point that I realize I have one leg wrapped around the gluttonous demon’s hip, a hot bulging something being pressed into my crotch through the fabric of the large male’s sweatpants.

“Warned ya,” Belphegor hums, pressing something into my already sensitive being from behind. The sloth avatar lets out a pleased hum, peppering my neck in kisses as I squirm.

“(y/n),” Beelzebub pants, gripping my hip in his large hand, “Please...You’re making it so hard to be composed.” I squeak as Belphie nips at the nape of my neck, my hands wringing Beel’s shirt as I wiggle.

“Why are you...doing this?” my voice is barely more than a whisper as I feel the throbbing half-arousal of my handsome demons press up close to me.

“Simple,” Belph coos, snuggling up closer somehow, “We want you to be ours. At first we didn’t think you’d choose a demon we couldn’t dispose of....but when you mentioned a human we became rather...concerned.”

“We don’t want to hurt anyone you love in the human world, (y/n),” Beel’s sweet voice adds in.

“Yes yes! How could we make you cry? The thought alone kills us, (y/n). The only tears should be from happiness.”

“happiness caused by us of course.”

“of course!”

My silence is so thick I’ve almost forgotten how to speak.

“So you don’t care that I’m human?...” An offended gasp comes from Belphie’s lips, a small bite being delivered to my earlobe soon after.

“How could you say that?” his voice is laced with offense as Beel nuzzles my head, “We love you for who you are, dear (y/n). We love YOU.” a soft squeak exits my lips as Beel moves back a bit to cup my chin and stare deep into my eyes. Normally I’d be scared of prolonged intense eye contact with a demon but this? This is saddening. Beel’s deep purple eyes are laced with concern and heartbreak, as though I’d already rejected them.

“You don’t have to accept our feelings,” Beel whispers, his voice a mere rumble like thunder in the distance, “We just want you to know we have them an-” his sentence, while touching, is cut off by my lips on his. Pained warmth consumes my core as I try to pour out my feelings in a kiss to the lovable giant. Beel’s hand comes up to caress the back of my head. Belphegor gasps softly in surprise as I press my butt into his hips, hoping to express some sort of positive feeling to the youngest brother.

“I think they accept,” Belphie purrs, nuzzling between my shoulder blades and grinding up against me. I blush, feeling Beelzebub grip me tighter and push himself closer towards me, his tongue lapping at my lips hungrily. Excited sparks of joy and arousal rocket through my body as I realize my deepest hopes were coming true: that my beloved demons love me back...

And they’re willing to share.

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