#and remembered a few i had forgotten i have
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𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 !
pairing: suna, tsukishima, ushijima, osamu, sakusa, and iwaizumi x fem!reader (separate)
note: thank you for the request @nicoleisdumb ! this was so fun to write and a nice refreshing break from jjk :3 miss writing abt these boys.
summary: You forgot date night ! Oops... now your man is ignoring you?? How are you gonna fix this?
content: slight angst to fluff, established relationships (marriage for a few, hehehehehe I will always find a way to sneak babies in), cursing, kinda suggestive for kiyoomi's part. not proofread!!!!
wc: 3.3k
❥ 𝐑. 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐀
Rintaro is not one to usually get upset when you forget things because you're human just as he is and he forgets things all the time. He forgets his keys at home sometimes, or his wallet, sometimes he forgets his birthday, etc. (never his phone, he always has that thing).
There has never been a day that he's forgotten a date or an anniversary to your surprise. Lately, though, work has consumed both you and your boyfriend. He was handling it better though, because when you'd get home you would immediately collapse onto the bed and fall asleep. Rintaro would make sure to change you into something more comfortable and at least clean your face with a warm, wet cloth and your face wash.
Today was no different from any others. As soon as you remove your shoes and lay in the bed, all of your problems don't matter anymore. It was only around 7 pm then.
The morning had arrived in a blur. Finally, you had a day off. This morning is off though, because you don't wake up with a set of pajamas on or Rin's t-shirt. That was your first clue to something being off.
The second clue was the fact that he is not in bed. Rin doesn't get up out of bed unless he absolutely has to. Usually, he's holding you captive in his arms. Before you investigate, you take the initiative to shower and brush your teeth. When you're in a fresh pair of clothes; a tank top and shorts, you slowly make your way into the living room, sleep still in your body.
A brown tuft of hair sticks out from under your mickey mouse blanket and a body way too big for the couch is curled up on it. Why is he sleeping on the couch?
"Rin, baby, why are you on the couch?" Silence. He's awake, you know it because of the sound from his phone that's muffled by the blanket. Is he ignoring you? There's no way... he must not have heard you.
So you speak up in case he didn't hear you the first time, "Morning, Rin!"
Still nothing. He doesn't even move. What is his problem? Your mood instantly deflates into something sour. There was a hope within you that you would finally get to spend time with him today. Be it cuddles or going out.
Since he's not talking to you, you'll just decide to make breakfast in order to pass the time and fill the silence. While breakfast is being made you try to think of things you could have possibly done to upset him.
Then it suddenly clicks... you wanted to go out with him today. He had planned to take you out yesterday. That had to be it, right?
"Rinnie was yesterday date night? I'm sorry for forgetting. I think you had tickets for something? I feel so fucking bad, baby." Sleep had instantly taken you last night that you forgot to set an alarm or something so you could remember date night.
He still didn't say anything, but he did get up from the couch to get some food. His gold eyes were cold and unforgiving.
"Rintaro. I'm really sorry. I guess my body got used to going to sleep right when I got home. I didn't even check to see if we were doing anything yesterday. I'll make it up to you, we can go out tonight?"
He's not mad at you, not anymore at least. Even though he's not mad at you, he kind of wanted to be. It's hard for him to be upset with you for too long.
"Don't fall asleep this time, sleepyhead." That familiar smile that you know so well appears on his face. It causes you to smile just as wide if not wider.
In seconds your arms are wrapped around him in a loving hug. "I won't fall asleep. Promise."
❥ 𝐊. 𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀
Kei is mean and petty about it. Date night is usually something simple like Netflix and some homemade snacks or something of the sorts. Mainly because the two of you like to stay in rather than go out.
He texted you asking where you were, only for you to reply that there was some old close friend of yours visiting town, so you decided to hang out with them.
When you got home late into the night, it was a little too quiet for you. Kei is probably asleep or playing on his play station, you assume. So, without even knowing that your boyfriend is upset, you go through your whole nightly routine.
Upon entering your bedroom you see his body lying in bed, his chest rising and falling every second. "I'm home." Leaves your lips in a whisper. There is no response so you assume he's asleep.
Halfway through the night you can't sleep, at all. It's probably because your boyfriend's comforting hands aren't wrapped around you, like usual.
You softly nudge your boyfriend's side trying to ease him awake, "Kei."
After a few more tries he finally startles awake, "what?"
"I can't sleep." You whine, "I need you to hug me."
"Shoulda' thought 'bout that before you went off with your friend instead of having date night." His tone is sour, from both being woken up and from you forgetting date night.
A small gasp leaves your lips, suddenly the conversation you two had a week prior to last night floods your brain. You weren't working that day and neither was Kei, which meant you guys could have your annual movie marathon.
"I'm sorry baby, I completely forgot..." He doesn't say anything to you and you can't tell what he's thinking because his back is facing you.
With a new spring of motivation you hop out of bed to make some of your favorite movie snacks and grab your laptop, before heading back to your bedroom.
"How about a redo?" Kei turns his body to look at you, he eyes the snacks and your computer. How could he stay mad at you?
"Hurry up before I change my mind." A huge cat-like grin adorns your pretty face.
❥ 𝐖. 𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐀
"Daddy, why red circle?" Your little son Nao asks looking at the calendar on the fridge.
"Mommy and Daddy were supposed to go out tonight, but work called Mommy and asked her to come." Wakatoshi explains to his three year old.
The original plan was for Nao's nanny to come a little early because Wakatoshi finally had time off of work and so did you. When she came to take care of your son you two were going to go to dinner and see this new jazz group.
Wakatoshi had only told his son part of the truth, you did have to suddenly go to work but it wasn't because they called you in, it was because you requested to work late, so you could have more time off in the future.
The only reason he sugar-coded it was, because he would never want to paint you in a bad light.
The both of you have enough to support the household and live a steady life so he has no idea why you decided to go into work tonight. It seems you'd even forgotten that you were supposed to go out on a date with him tonight.
"Mommy not gettin' dinner with you?" He asks for clarity.
"Yeah, that's right." He gives the little guy a pat to the head.
"So it's just you and me. After bath time and dinner we can do something fun like watch a movie."
"We watch Dootopa?" He asks with a beaming smile on his face.
"You wanna watch Zootopia?"
"Yes yes!!!" That is his all time favorite movie. Flash the sloth is his favorite character next to Judy Hopps.
"Okay, well lets hurry up and get bath time and dinner time over with."
When you arrive home, your two favorite boys are fast asleep on the couch. You make the assumption they've been watching movies all night because Toy Story 2 is playing and neither are awake to watch it.
Nao is curled up in his father's lap, while Wakatoshi's hand is supporting him in case he falls.
You pick the sleeping little boy up in order to take him to his bed. Wakatoshi ever the light sleeper awakes when you remove Nao from his lap.
Instead of smiling and kissing you goodnight he turns the TV off and proceeds to walk straight to your shared bedroom without a word.
You quickly place your son down in his bed kissing him goodnight. You know why he's upset with you and there's an eagerness for you to fix it.
"I totally forgot about dinner, honey, I'm sorry." Those words leave your lips as soon as you enter your bedroom.
Your hurry to change into something more comfortable so you can join him in bed.
"Don't be mad 'Toshi." He grunts, his back is turned to you, so who knows what he's thinking.
Luckily for you he tends to not hold grudges.
"I'll get us a reservation at your favorite place," desperation seeps into your voice when he still doesn't answer you, "I really feel dumb for calling into work today, please cut me a break baby-"
"You aren't dumb, by any means, and I'm not mad. I'm confused." That's when you remember that Wakatoshi doesn't usually ignore you when he's upset about something.
The reason he doesn't say anything is usually because he's thinking.
You wait for him to tell you why he's confused and as you do so you sink into bed. At the point he turns over to see your face.
"I'm confused as to why you needed to work late when you already have so many days off."
"Well- I was hoping the three of us could go on vacation this summer, if the team doesn't require you to do your workouts there." His confusion is replaced with awe.
"Just ask them for days off, if they dock your pay it won't matter. We have enough to live comfortably, I promise." It feels good to finally have your man looking into your eyes again. A relieved sigh leaves your lips.
❥ 𝐎. 𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀
"Forgettin' something?" Your husband asks right before you walk out the door to go to your best friend's baby shower. He's leaning against the door frame, his huge arms flex when he goes to cross them over his equally large chest.
Is there something you're forgetting? Nothing rings a bell, so you assume he means you're about to forget to kiss him goodbye.
You lean into kiss him and he kisses you back of course, but there's still a pout on his face and he doesn't look satisfied.
"I love you, 'Samu! I gotta get going before I'm late!" So you forgot about it. You forgot that tonight Osamu was supposed to take you to the shop and fix up a nice dinner for you two at your favorite table. He'd serve your favorite wine and you two would talk about the stupidest things into the early hours of the morning. He even closed early for tonight.
I mean, he can't blame you, your best friend of a lifetime is having a baby shower, and of course she wants you there. It would have made him feel a little bit better if you at least remembered it, but you didn't.
Osamu wouldn't be a Miya if he wasn't at least a little bit petty about it. He's decided he'll ignore you until you figure out that you'd forgotten about your date tonight. Maybe if he's not too sour he'll make dinner for you.
The petty man in question has been watching the clock for the past twenty minutes. You were supposed to be home by now, because it's already 8:45 pm. The baby shower started at 6 and ended at 7, so, where are you?
Just as he asks himself that question, the telltale sound of keys on the other end of the door snaps him out of his trance.
"Hey baby, I'm back!" The door swings open and your pretty face greets him.
He doesn't say anything back to you, he just pretends to be busy on his phone.
"Sorry I got back so late, I stayed to help her clean everything up." Your eyes watch your husband carefully, checking for any sign of him being upset, because he doesn't say anything yet again.
"What's wrong, 'Samu?" Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He's definitely mad, now you just need to figure out why.
After a quick change into your slippers and your keys are on the rack you walk up to him, giving him a hug from behind. You rest your chin on his shoulder. He's scrolling through twitter, his personal one not the one for promoting the shop.
"Why are you sulking? You're acting like your brother." Osamu accepts his fate, you know he can't ignore you when you compare him to his brother.
"Do not compare me to that oversized baby." When he hears your beautiful laugh he almost forgets why he was upset, almost.
"Did I not tell ya that ya were forgettin' somethin' before ya left?" The question in his voice makes you think for a second.
"Was it not a kiss?" He shakes his head. Now you're completely lost.
"I was 'posed to take ya down to the shop and we were gonna eat at our table." When he finishes his sentence you gasp in remembrance. Oh shit. You forgot about date night.
"Baby, you can't possibly be telling me I had to choose you or her." He stiffens for a brief moment, then relaxes.
"Nah, I was just hoping ya'd at least remember it." A shudder rolls down his spine when you give him a small kiss on the neck.
"I'm sorry for forgetting, baby. Let's have a do ov-" Osamu doesn't allow you to finish because he scoops you up bridal style and brings you into the kitchen to set you down on the counter.
"Ya better watch me cook or I won't forgive you."
"Aye aye captian!"
"Yer so annoying." He smiles at you.
❥ 𝐊. 𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐀
"Bye baby! Mama and Dada love you!" Your baby girl waves at you shyly as you and Kiyoomi drop her off with her grandparents.
"I wuv you too! Bye bye Mama, bye bye Dada." Kiyoomi hugs his daughter tightly before setting her down next to her grandma.
"Alright, sweet girl, make sure to be good for nana and poppa okay?" She nods her adorable little head, the tiny ponytails you put in her hair swing rapidly.
As soon as you guys are in the car, a look of excitement flashes in your husband's eyes.
"What?" You can't help smile when he looks at you like that.
"Made us that reservation for brunch like you asked." Your smile immediately drops. You'd forgotten that you and Kiyoomi planned this whole weekend out already. You two had planned this weekend two weeks prior, which is kind of why you forgot and booked a mani-pedi for an hour from now.
"Fuckkkkk." Why do you forget the most important things?
"Kiyo, can we do dinner instead? I forgot about brunch and booked a mani-pedi because today is the only day my nail lady could fit me in."
A tension forms almost immediately when you inform him of your plans. Guilt is heavy on your stomach while listening to your husband cancel brunch over the phone. The rest of the car ride is silent except for the sound that's happening outside of the car.
Your husband is kind enough to drop you off at your nail appointment. You feel so bad as you hop out of the car, so in order to try and smooth things over you offer for him to come inside but he just mumbles a quick, "No thank you, I'll come get you when it's done."
That's how you ended up spilling everything to your nail lady. She shakes her head as she shapes the gel nails into the shape you asked for. "What's his favorite color on you, sweetheart?"
You think for a second before answering, "He loves when I get sage green." The woman gives you a knowing smile and you connect the dots as to what she's referring to.
"You want him to feel better? Take him to dinner and then give him a night to remember with those pretty nails. Works every time with my husband." She says with a mischievous smile.
Your eyes widen for a second, "Oh my- I- we haven't had time to do anything because our little girl requires most of our time, but she's with her grandparents for the weekend."
The nail lady giggles as she goes to find your color. "Honey, if that's not a sign to get laid then I don't know what is!"
When your appointment is over you see the cadillac waiting for you in the parking lot. Kiyoomi doesn't even bother to look up when you enter the car.
"Got your favorite color." You purr with a seductive smile on your face. Kiyoomi doesn't spare you a glance, "Cool."
"Stop being so mean, I'm sorry about brunch. I made a reservation for dinner." That finally baits his attention, he turns to you, a nasty look in his eyes.
"Oh I actually think I'm going to be busy, can't go to dinner." He mocks your voice to make you feel what he had felt earlier. He's being mean, but he doesn't mean it. He still kind of has this habit of getting defensive when he or his pride is hurt.
"Too busy to get a blowjob in the car after dinner?" You know you've got him when he stops breathing for a few seconds. Your husband is only a man, and what kind of man would he be to deny a blowjob from his wife?
"Shit, should have started with that. Let me see your nails." The whole time he inspects your pretty hands there's a smirk on your face.
"I love this color on you baby."
"I know you do Kiyo. Now, let's get home, we have to get ready for dinner tonight."
Having your daughter stay with her grandparents for the weekend was the best decision you guys have made in a while.
❥ 𝐇. 𝐈𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐈
Hajime has been ignoring you for the past two hours and you can't figure out why.
You know you haven't done anything to piss him off recently (or so you think), so his behavior is kind of strange. Nothing you did made him listen to you either.
He doesn't even let you know he's leaving for work, which reminds you of yesterday. You were so excited to go see your cousin's puppy you'd forgotten to tell your boyfriend you'd be out for awhile.
Suddenly while you're tidying up the kitchen you briefly remember him asking you on a date... yesterday.
That's probably why he's ignoring you.
So of course, being the problem solver you are, you head to the store to get stuff to set up a nice date at home.
You decorate the table with pretty rose petals and cook his favorite meal for him. Candles light up the table and two glasses of wine are set on the table.
Hajime lets out a loud groan as he enters the house, working with a bunch of athletes all the time is quite tiring. What he doesn't expect is the dimmed lights and quiet music playing from the alexa in the kitchen.
For the first time today he talks to you, "What's all this?"
"An apology for forgetting our date last night. I set up an at home date for us." He tries and fails to look upset, still.
"I'm glad you remembered," he pauses, "the day after our date." A snort leaves his lips and you roll your eyes.
"At least I remembered. Hurry up and put your stuff up so we can eat. The food is gonna get cold."
It's safe to say he forgives with the way a lopsided grin adorns his face.
divider: @/chachachannah
#haikyuu#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x female reader#suna x reader#tsukishima x reader#ushijima x reader#osamu miya x reader#sakusa x reader#iwaizumi x reader#suna rintarou#tsukishima kei#ushijima wakatoshi#osamu miya#sakusa kiyoomi#hajime iwaizumi#suna rintaro x reader#tsukishima kei x reader#wakatoshi ushijima x reader#miya osamu x reader#sakusa kiyoomi x reader#iwaizumi hajime x reader
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Belladonna, Forget-me-not, Hyssop, dwarf sunflower 🌻
ouagh thank you for sending a request <3 check out the list here! <3
Inc: Lilia (both present and general), Reader, Silver, Sebek mention
WC: 3.5k
Warnings: War mention, arson, crimes committed during war time (all my homies hate Silver Owls). Lilia cussing, as he should.
Flowers: Belladonna (a confession given without words aka we are pining mentally in the club), Forget me not (the one thing I remembered and how it brought me back to you), Hyssop (one last walk through a house—sort of), Sunflower, dwarf (how many ways do I have to confess for you to believe me?). Some flexibility with these.
Summary: A trinket he had forgotten pulls him down a path of memories that he wishes he could forget.
There’s a sunflower in the garden this year.
He thinks it’s quite curious when he first sees the bud, its petals still closed tight as though afraid to enter the world. He’s standing outside of the front door of his cottage with a mug in hand as he gives it a scrutinizing look. The silence of the forest surrounding his home lets him focus ample attention on how this oddity came to be. Silver has run to town and won’t be back until the evening, aiding Sebek in purchasing school supplies for the coming year, and Malleus is likely packing in his eagerness to get out of the palace for another ten months.
It’s just Lilia, his mug, and the sunflower.
“Shy, are we?” He murmurs in amusement as he raises the mug to his lips before they twist to a wry grimace. Perhaps being alone is not good for him—he’s beginning to speak to his gardens like an old man already.
He wisely turns heel and re-enters the cottage as he downs the bitter coffee before discarding the mug in the sink. He’ll wash the dishes before Silver gets home, only because he knows the boy will do it all himself if he doesn’t, which would do nothing but make Lilia feel guilty. Silver insists it’s fine, he’s happy to help his father—but it shouldn’t be that way. His brow furrows in dissatisfaction as he weaves through the cottage's halls to arrive at his bedroom.
Contrary to his room at NRC, this one is so barren it looks downright unoccupied, like no one has ever lived in it to begin with. Lilia had moved most of his valuables with him when he had received notice of his pending enrolment alongside Malleus. This at least makes sorting out what he’s to wear today much easier as he pulls open the closet to peer inside. His fingers dance along the various fabrics as he hums, and haws, and already knows he’s going to wear the same outfit he wears essentially every day.
Lilia Vanrouge has become a man of consistency—another factor that serves to paint him as ‘old’.
“Decrepit, even,” he grumbles to himself as he tosses his clothes onto the bed. Perhaps he can spice it up a bit to combat these self-perpetuated accusations through the application of an accessory. The thought pleases him enough to make him reach for the top shelf of his closet, his hand hitting against objects and shoving things around in his bid to grab something useful. Maybe he would have benefited from just floating up to see what he needed to get, because his hand soon hits an item that topples off the shelf and nearly clocks him in the face.
“Shit!” He snarls as he moves back. The box clatters to the floor by his foot with a loud rattle, causing him to glare down at it accusingly. His eyes narrow as another low curse slips out and he fumbles to pick the box up.
It’s made of carved wood—oak, by the weight of it. Each etching along the sides paints a tale that draws Lilia to a stop as he turns it over in his hands. A figure perched on a tree branch with another sitting beneath, a blade and wood in hand. The two figures are next in a home, with a few flowers hanging to dry from a window. Then they are standing beside each other by a body of water; the carving here is detailed enough that he can see apprehension in one’s gaze and sternness in the others.
The final carving is incomplete, only because a blackened char mark has burnt the wood to an unusable state.
Ah.
He remembers why he didn’t take this to NRC. He remembers why he had it shoved in the back of the closet like something rotten, something meant to be concealed. He feels his mood darken as he turns the box over again. Each nick, each mark, tells a tale of something that stirs a burning shame in his gut. His hands tighten enough that he hears the wood creaking under his strength before they relax once more.
Then, he pauses. Silver won’t be back until far later in the day. He has nothing to do but wash a mug that now sits fermenting in his sink. Beyond this, he’ll simply be wandering from room to room in his cottage like a ghost, perhaps cutting some firewood, perhaps seeing if the bloody quails that have been tormenting his vegetable gardens are back.
Lilia moves until the back of his knees hit his bed and he sits down, cradling the box more gently now. A sudden urge—a bit of masochistic curiosity—tugs at his heart as his lips curl into a sneer. His thumb brushes against the carving of the figure crouching in the tree.
Well, if he needs a good way to kill an hour or so.
“All is as if it were days long past. No matter where it takes us, it will all be over in the blink of an eye. Far cry cradle.”
_________________________________________________________
The memory begins as it always did any time that he did this. He’s just over 300 years old, his hair long and his body perched on the branches of a tree. He forgot that if he’s personally in the memory, his magic has a habit of tossing him headfirst directly into his body again. The scent of pine overwhelms him as he looks across a Briar Valley that once was just as full of life as he. Green, as far as the eye can see, and the songs of birds that have since gone extinct filling the warm air.
He shifts on the branch and closes his eyes for a moment as he drinks it all in. Things long since gone, things he wishes he could experience just one more time in his current life. He almost loses himself in the memory—a dangerous risk—before he hears the faint sound of scraping from beneath where he’s perched.
Lilia’s eyes snap open and his gaze travels down to see a figure with a cloak sitting against the pine tree, their hood pulled up as their hands expertly carve a piece of wood with their blade. He can’t quite tell what it is they’re making—and truthfully, he’s long since forgotten.
But the sound of their voice as they hum an old folk song he hasn’t heard since the war times makes him tense all the same.
You.
Fuck.
The uncomfortableness of the situation, the realization that perhaps doing this was a mistake on his part, makes him shift back on the branch. This is enough to make a few twigs snap and force your attention to jerk upwards to where he lay. His red gaze locks onto yours as every sound in the forest falls silent and all he knows is the confusion in your eyes.
“How long have you been up there?” You blurt out, your voice sounding exactly how he hears it in his dreams for the past four hundred years. A strangled sound leaves his throat, and with all of the energy he can muster, Lilia jerks himself free of the memory.
_________________________________________________________
He stutters for air as his eyes open once more and he grips the box tight. The carving of his body on the branch overlooking yours at the base is now just a mockery for things he foolishly lost. The only way he can know you now is through the use of magic, and even that cannot return you entirely.
He shouldn’t be doing this. A glance at the clock on the wall tells him he was in the memory for fifteen minutes, despite it feeling only like mere seconds.
He shouldn’t be doing this. He turns the box over in his hand to look at the next carving. The two figures in a home, with a few flowers hanging to dry from a window. He notes with a bitter amusement that they’re all sunflowers.
The box should go back on the top shelf. He should lock it away again and forget it, leave it for Silver to find only once his father is dead and rotting under the earth. Perhaps the boy can finish what the humans started—burning it to nothing but cinders.
He shouldn’t be doing this to himself, and yet…
“All is as if it were days long past. No matter where it takes us, it will all be over in the blink of an eye. Far cry cradle.”
_________________________________________________________
Lilia finds himself standing in a small cottage eerily reminiscent of his own. He knows a few months have passed since the first encounter by the way there’s snow falling heavily from the skies outside. Briar Valley’s winters are vicious—as untamed as the land itself once had been before metal teeth had torn it apart and left the fae to clean its viscera. His gaze travels to the window nearby to look out at the landscape before it’s drawn upwards to the flowers hanging down from the sill.
Sunflowers, which look as fresh as the day they were likely picked, paint a cheery picture against the bleak backdrop beyond.
“I am afraid it isn’t quite perfect, but it should do the trick to warm you up.” Your voice's soft cadence causes his shoulders to tense as he doesn’t turn around to face you. He can hear you humming, the sound of a bowl being set on a nearby table, and the aroma of something so intoxicating it makes his stomach twist in phantom hunger. “Why were you rushing through this blizzard to begin with?”
Lilia blinks as silence falls. You’re waiting for his response. This likely won’t play out unless he gives it.
“Her majesty bid me to deliver a missive to Princess Meleanor.” He murmurs, eyes still fixated on the sunflower. They almost look real to him despite the knowledge that this is nothing but an illusion. He hears you hum in disapproval. You often did that—hummed a lot, laughed a lot.
“Terrible weather to be doing so, but I suppose if it’s urgent, you can’t sit on it. At least have something to eat before you go braving Briar Nation once more.”
His head turns slightly so that he can catch a glimpse of you in his peripheral vision. Your back is to him as you scoop more food into a second bowl. You’re not unique—just another fae in a nation of many—but you stand out to him. Four hundred years later, he still struggles to rationalize why.
“You must like sunflowers a lot.” He comments abruptly. He didn’t say this in the memory, and he can tell by the way it seems to stutter around him. You still turn and look at him in confusion, however. “You only have sunflowers hanging on your window.”
“Oh!” You seem surprised, and then delighted as a smile graces your face. He wishes he had never seen that again. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
He wants to say something, perhaps ‘I know’, but the memory melts away before the words can leave his tongue.
_________________________________________________________
Lilia tastes copper when his eyes snap to the clock on the wall. Thirty minutes have gone by now—another fifteen in the previous memory. His hands shake slightly as he turns the box over like a man under a compulsion. The carving of two figures by the water seems to be taunting him as his thumb traces across your body.
He doesn’t even bother speaking the phrase clearly this time. It comes as a mumble, and suddenly he’s falling into darkness again.
_________________________________________________________
Tension is palpable when Lilia opens his eyes. Although it’s spring, the warmth seems nonexistent in the air as deafening silence fills where he stands. You’re by his side, your arms crossed tight over your chest as you stare at the pond beyond. By your feet, a patch of sunflowers smiles up at the bright skies above.
“How much longer do you think it will last before they wipe it clean?” You ask, your voice containing barely concealed rage as your nails dig into your sleeves. His jaw clenches as he shrugs one shoulder.
“A week. A month. A year. It could be any amount of time. They have new machines that they’ve been using—new means to rip open our nation to reach its heart.” He scoffs and turns sharply. “Fucking humans. Why did they need to come here to begin with? We were fine before they came crawling onto our shores, with their bitching, and moaning, and noxious fucking machines!”
“Lilia.” Your voice is calmer as he feels your hand touch his arm. His fury simmers slightly under this action. “At least we’re gaining some ground against them, right? And they haven’t reached all of Briar Nation yet. I can still provide game and herbs to the neighbouring villages—there’s an abundance surrounding my cottage.”
Lilia wants to say that’s because all of the animals are being driven deeper into the woods, but he holds his tongue as he meets your steadfast gaze. In the period of time since he’s come to know you, he’s also realized that your stubbornness will have you refuting every claim with an optimistic one of your own. Already you had staunchly refused to leave your cottage despite the looming threat drawing ever so nearby.
“I need to go soon.” He finally sighs as he tears his gaze away from you to the pond again. He hasn’t seen this pond since the war era simply because he knows it was drained for the Silver Owls' use. He hears your own sigh slip out as you remove your hand. The skin that you touched aches in its absence.
He steals a glance at you and tries to preserve your side-profile in his mind. If he could, he would carve it onto every surface he possessed, marking every line and bump that comprised the masterpiece that is you to his liking. He has already devoted himself by this point to mapping these curves with his fingers under the shadow of Briar Nations endless nights. He has memorized every sound you make, as sweet as any song can be, and which places on your body elicit such music. You had both entered this dance as a means to release stress—but now, four hundred years later, he knows it meant so much more.
He wants to sweep you in his arms. He wants to pull you to safety, to silence your protests with hushed whispers and utterances of his devotion. He wants to pour his heart into your hands until he’s empty and belonging entirely to you. He is a man who, once he devotes himself to something, gives endlessly until he remains a ghost of who he once was.
He loves you in this moment, where the sun dapples your skin, and he can pretend he’s still in the Briar Nation he knew. So, he breaks conduct again.
“You should leave.” The memory wavers at his words. In the past, he had simply turned at this point to begin returning to your cottage so that he could ready his travel pack. “You should go to the next village over. Go somewhere safe.”
The memory wavers again, fraying along the edges, and yet still Lilia finds himself persevering. “Please. I don’t want to see what’s going to happen next.”
You turn to look at him as his vision begins to darken. Your brow furrows, confusion etching your face as the last words you speak feel like a nail in his own coffin.
“Lilia, this is my home.”
_________________________________________________________
He doesn’t immediately speak as he comes back again. The clock shows forty-five minutes have passed now, and the lighting in the bedroom he sits in has altered to reflect this. A numbness has crept into his body and settled just below his skin. It fluctuates and writhes like an insect and causes him to shiver as he rotates the box once more.
The last carving is incomplete. The black marks that mar its surface guarantee this. Faintly, he can smell smoke on both the box and his hands as he traces his thumb across this, as well.
It comes back filthy.
Lilia’s expression schools itself to a blank look as the silence of the empty cottage perpetuates. Only his breathing breaks the still air, stuttering slightly as his lips part.
“... far cry cradle.”
_________________________________________________________
Lilia can smell it before he sees it. Wood, smouldering in the unforgiving winter sun, accompanied by something more pungent and feral. He’s already running by the time he snaps into the memory, his feet dragging through heavy snow as he fights against the elements to reach the treeline. He can see dark smoke pluming upwards.
It’s always too late by the time he arrives.
His steps slow, his feet drawing to a stop as cold snow soaks through his pants. Before him lays a painting of carnage, crafted by human hands, and displayed for the eyes of any fae passing by. Footsteps trample in the aged snow that surrounds the smouldering husk of the structure. Your words regarding your cottage being in a hot spot for game and herbs ring as a mockery now in his ears as he slowly, slowly, inches closer.
“Hello?” His voice cracks as the words leave him. The forest echoes them back—hello? Hello? Hello?
Stone dust scatters across the white earth as his hand comes to touch the frame you had been so proud of when you had first shown it off. Burnt, with embers still smouldering in the wood. He feels afraid to step further, but he knows that if he doesn’t then he’ll never get the satisfaction of knowing whether you may have survived it or not.
Lilia passes through the door frame. He looks up to what remains of your roof, to the space where sunflowers once hung, and then just beyond the large wooden table you had carved for yourself as well. A small box sits perfectly on its blackened surface, like it had been placed on display intentionally for his discovery.
The memory begins to blur at this point. Things that should be there soon bleed into black outlines, dripping down onto the floor with a rhythmic thump. He can see static in what looks like the shape of an arm peeking out from behind the table leg as his stomach twists, and rage begins to flood through his veins in place of blood. A stuttering breath leaves him as the static arm remains still.
He is General Lilia Vanrouge. He is a soldier. He is meant to protect his people, and yet, and yet—
_________________________________________________________
Lilia snaps out of this memory by throwing the box to the floor. It clatters at his outburst before he kicks it viciously into the closet, his breath leaving him in ragged gasps as he does. His mind is a blur as his one hand grips the sheets beneath him and the other grabs his collar, trying to ground him in the moment before the whole world spins out of proportion.
He is not General Lilia Vanrouge. He is not a soldier. He is not walking into the home of the person he thought he loved, forced to bury what was left of them in a pauper's grave—just another loss in the wartime.
He is a man, sitting in his cottage, with a son who will be home by evening and a school he needs to pack for.
“Fuck,” he groans, pressing his face into his hands as he shakes himself free of the thoughts. “Fuck... fuck!”
A brief glance at the clock shows an hour has passed by now. His chest feels heavy, and his mind full of cotton as he dresses in a mechanical manner before going about his chores for the day.
By the time Silver returns, he’s fought off the quails, weeded the garden, cut firewood, and cleared the gutters. What he hasn’t done is clean the mug that’s been sitting in the sink since the morning—a task that Silver happily takes on after Lilia looks close to losing it.
If his son notices anything else off about his father, he says nothing about it, but Lilia does note the way Silver seems a bit more talkative than usual this evening. Lilia’s mind continues to replay the memories he experienced in a macabre theatrical viewing as he tries hard to listen to what Silver is saying. Eventually, they both fall silent as Silver washes the mug, along with the dishes from dinner in addition. The sun is beginning to set when he pauses to peer out the window with a curious expression.
“Did you see the sunflower in the garden?” Silver asks, his voice soft as he finishes drying off the mug. Lilia raises an eyebrow as he looks up again.
“What about it?”
“It opened up.” Silver looks surprised, and then delighted as a smile graces his face. Lilia’s eyes widen as he notes the similarities between the childish joy on his son's face, and that which he once saw on your own.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
#lilia vanrouge#lilia x reader#(ish)#twst#twst x reader#twst fanfiction#twst spoilers#yeah#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst lilia#phew ok girlies i think that hits it#anyway went off kinda... oop
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Typical Day For a Bouncer
I'm Joey, a security guard at a night club down the street. I got the job because I'm a big ex-rugby player, but I've kept it for so long because I'm good at handling people. I can't tell you how many underage idiots try to sneak in here. It takes patience, grit, and a keen eye to keep the troublemakers out!
Like any other Friday night, the club is packed tight and a line of impatient patrons stretches down the street. I've gotten good at telling people "no," in a way that makes them listen, so they have no choice but to calmly wait until I feel like checking their ID and letting them in.
Every now and again, I'll have some fools try to sweet talk their way in. Girls try to flirt, guys try to bribe, but the biggest assholes make a scene. It's nothing I can't handle.
Just last week, I had this entitled brat come up to me and demand I let him in. The boy couldn't have thought I'd believe he was twenty-one. He wasn't even in line! I don't remember what I did to get him to shut up, but he kept hammering on and on about his skills with hypnosis. I remember listening to that kid ramble about the voodoo of the mind for what felt like forever.
I don't remember kicking him to the curb, though. He probably got tired and went home.
"Hey, buddy!" a familiar voice squeaks over the music. I roll my eyes, preparing myself to say no yet again.
"Oh, it's you," my deep voice catches in my throat. The kid from last week is standing in front of me once more, ignoring the line of adults to his left. In his ratty sweatshirt and baseball cap, he doesn't look any older than eighteen. Still, the sight of him unlocks a memory I somehow had forgotten. "Hello, sir!" I call back, remembering him as my closest and most respected friend. How could I've forgotten that this boy was my best friend I call sir?
"You gonna let me in, big guy?" A devious grin spreads across his boyish face.
"Of course, sir."
There are a few angry comments from the people waiting in line. I can't imagine they're happy to see this guy ushered into the club before them. Normally, I have a strict policy against VIP treatment. I think everyone should have to wait in line like equals, but sir is great. He can come and go whenever he wants!
"Hey, why don't you take a break from the front and buy me some beers," the boy yells over the roar of the music.
I leave the entrance and start pushing my way through the crowd in the direction of the bar. I probably should've warned the other bouncer that I was taking a break, but my feet were carrying me away before I knew what was happening. The other guard knows what he's doing, but he's still pretty new here. I'm sure he'll be fine.
The bartender gives me a can of light beer, and I hustle it back to the boy on the dance floor. People tend to get out of the way when they see a giant security guard coming through, but the place is so jammed packed that I have to press against several sweaty partiers on the way over.
"Your beer, sir," I say, flinching at the meekness in my voice.
"What the hell is this?" he whines when he sees the drink, "This is crap. Get me the good stuff, and buy a lot of it!" The kid tossed the open can at my broad chest, and the cheap beer splashes across my uniform.
"Yes, sir."
I march back to the bar with a clenched fist, and grab a tray, ordering the barback to fill it up with the more expensive bottles of beer. He glances at my soaked shirt and pants, but averts his eyes the second he sees my less-than-friendly face.
That boy is my best friend. I respect him greatly, but goddamn is he infuriating. How did I even become close to someone so immature? I pacify myself, and carry the tray back over to the kid.
"That's better," he snorts and takes a sip of the premium drink while I stand there to make sure he likes it this time.
"Alright, sir," I begin, thinking about the twenty minute break I've been taking, "I need to get back to work."
"No you don't!" the boy interjects.
"I..." the words fumble in my mouth, "...well, I don't need to, but I should, sir."
"Tell your boss you're done for the night. Then go wait by my car. You can guard it!"
"Yes, sir," the words come out before I even know what I've agreed to.
Before I know it, I'm marching into the back office and calmly telling the club owner that I'm taking the night off. He's pissed, but I'm his most reliable employee, so he doesn't fire me. I can tell he's not happy, though. He looks like he'd take a swing at me if I weren't two feet taller than him and a hundred pounds heavier.
"You make a great watchdog!" the teenager laughs as he comes stumbling out of the club.
Something about him brings a scowl to my face. It might be the way he referred to me as an animal, or it might be the way he's staring at me like I am an animal. Maybe I'm just irritated from standing by this parked car in the cold for the last two hours, but this boy is getting on my nerves.
"No one has bothered your car, sir," I report.
"Good, boy," he slurs and then reaches a gangly arm to pat the top of my head. I can smell the distinct earthiness of the beer I'd bought wafting out with his breath.
Every muscle in my body tenses up, as I try my best to restrain myself. Sir is my best friend. I respect him. I do what he says. I shouldn't get this worked up by him making a little joke at my expense. It's perfectly fine for him to tease me a little since I trust him completely. I know all this.
"Still think hypnosis is fake?" he asks, bringing his wet lips uncomfortably close to my own.
"Sir?" my brow furrows, unsure why he's bringing up that crap again.
"Well, it's real, and you're hypnotized."
I stifle a groan, "Sir, you've had a lot to drink..."
"The only thing I'm drunk on is power!" he yells, smashing a bottle on the sidewalk for effect, "I've got you like a trained dog; that's how good of a hypnotist I am! Let me prove it."
I was pissed. I was livid. Sir had mocked and insulted me repeatedly. It was a bad idea for anyone to pick on me, especially someone a third of my size! Nevertheless, the boy has all my faith, so I kept my mouth clamped shut.
He told me to kneel, and I grunted, "Yes, sir." I already had beer all over my clothes, so what's a little mud on the knees of my pants? It was better to just keep him happy, but that didn't mean he had hypnotized me.
"Keep your arms raised, like you're worshipping me," he went on.
"Yes, sir."
My arms went up. I'll admit this was a bit more strange, but I still trust and respect the teenager enough to comply. That doesn't say anything about my state of mind.
"Alright, now stay like that until I come back," he laughs, "I'm going to get a snack, but if anyone walks by, I want you to bark at them like the hypnotized guard dog you are!"
"Yes, sir," I answer, hearing the hoarseness in my voice.
As the boy stumbles away, I find myself stuck in the position he'd left me in: on my knees, in the cold, with my arms raised in compliance. I'm doing this willingly, right?
Time creeps by uncomfortably slow as I silently wait next to his car. Suddenly, I hear footsteps nearby. A wave of barks burst out of my throat, and I find myself growling like a territorial mutt in the direction of the pedestrians.
Now I'm acting like a dog!
Sir doesn't come back for another hour, which leaves me to viciously snap at numerous other passerby. They seem terrified, which makes sense. They probably think I'm insane! I'm beginning to wonder if I'm insane too.
I respect that boy more than anyone even if I only met him once, a week ago. I really would do anything he told me too. Is that strange? It's not like me to be so...obedient. I'm the kind of guy that normally tells people what to do, so why am I doing this?
There's no way...it's not possible...I can't actually be hypnotized, right?
"Good, boy," he pulls off my cap and ruffles my hair, "Now, be a good dog and drive me to your house. I might fall asleep on the way there, so you'll have to carry me inside to your bed. If you do good, I'll give you a special treat." He licks his lips and reaches a scrawny hand out to squeeze my tired pec.
"Yes, sir," I answer, jumping up to do his bidding, but I can feel that the words aren't really mine.
Shit. I think he's right. I think I am hypnotized.
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Absolution
Azriel x Reader(N)
Summary: Two lovers separated out of necessity finally reunite, only for a brief tryst.
A/N: This is an experimental piece of work. I'm testing a writing style, so feedback is welcome. It's an extended universe for a plot I was working with details tbd but doesn't involve much plot here. So it should be an easy read. This is my first ever Tumblr publish and it's scary!! So be kind. Hope you enjoy!
Word count: ~4.5k
Warning: NSFW, 18+ SMUT, f!receiving, m!receiving(barely), sappy start+spicy middle+angsty end (i guess), voice kink, p in v. Mentions of OC other than reader[not enough editing/proofreading/formatting]
Azriel stepped into the room desperately holding on to the moment, afraid Crone Mother would change her mind. N sat on the balcony—like every evening, on the floor, her legs crossed, her hands clasped in her lap. The curtains came alive with the touch of a gentle breeze to guard her from him. Her sheer dress melded with her body under the radiance of the fading sun, her skin aglow as if made of stars and gold. Summer flowers adorned her hair, tucked into the braid that unravelled after the day’s practices.
His shadows peeked over his shoulders and swarmed his hands buzzing with excitement. With each silent step, he prayed he didn’t break her trance. He settled before her—bringing his knees to his chest, he rested his elbows on them, and his wings tucked tight to his body.
The hue of the setting sun made everything heavenly about her—soft, ethereal. Wisps of hair teasing her cheeks, the knowing smile on her lips, the slight flutter of her eyelids under his stare. A sigh escaped Azriel’s lips. It was a worthless attempt to hide his presence from her, the one who held the sight.
Azriel wasn’t a fool to waste the mercy bestowed upon him after months of longing to be close to his beloved. He stretched on the floor, his head finding its rightful place in her lap, and wrapped his arms around her waist. Her scent and warmth made their bond burn brighter and he sighed in contentment.
After long minutes, N rested her palm on his head. Her fingers carded through his hair, and her nails scratched his scalp the way he liked. A thumb teased the shell of his ear and his wings responded with a sudden tremor.
Azriel smiled. He buried his face into her thigh. Air shifted around them as her body answered to his touches and breaths. Despite the need clawing in his chest, he chose to wait a few minutes, to savour the comfort of her simple touch.
N broke the silence. ‘How was your day?’ Her voice was as sweet as ever.
‘Long. Excruciatingly long,’ sighed Azriel. ‘I started with your friends from the armoury today. Until your mother sent me to the gardens.’ He remembered the smile on the older woman’s face when she took him away from the others. A secretive, mischievous one. ‘She enjoys testing me a bit much. She made me tend to your roses.’
N laughed, the sound sending a shiver through him. ‘That must have been a vision. Maybe she’s exacting revenge for how you treated her back home.’
Azriel’s heart thudded in his chest. Home. No matter what Crone Mother said, N had one home. It was with him, in Night Court. ‘I think she’s forgotten all that. She’s more interested in stealing you from me.’ His arms tightened around her and his shadows whirled around them emphasising their master’s possessiveness, ‘But I don’t mind. As long as she lets me be with you for a while.’ His lips twitched. ‘Did you know everyone here addresses me as your mate?’
Another laugh broke through her lips, ‘They're not wrong.’
‘No, they are not.’ Azriel finally looked up. Her eyes were already on his face. ‘I’ve been called many names over centuries. Shadowsinger. Spymaster. But this one,’ he leaned up to her face, ‘I like the most. To be known as yours before they even know my name.’ He got to his knees and trailed a knuckle along her jaw. ‘I’d like that for the rest of my life.’ Their bond strummed a tune so loud that rendered him senseless. ‘I want to have a life with you. A home, a family. Anything you want, any way you want. As long as you want that too.’
‘You mean that.’ N stated as if she needed to reassure herself. She stared at him with a mask of impassivity on her face that almost rivalled his own as a spy. Then, she smiled. ‘But I’ll have you know there will be more tests from Crone Mother.’
'I’ll suffer anything for you,’ he murmured against her lips. ‘So that’s a yes?’ N nodded before her eyes sparkled with mirth. ‘What is it?’ His senses warned him, his shadows stood alert on his shoulders.
‘Well, technically, we’re married.’
Silence fell between them. Azriel’s fingers left her skin.
‘What?’
N shrugged. ‘Do you remember the first time we duelled?’ Her voice was steady but her hesitance broke through at the sight of the male who sat frozen in front of her. ‘You made me bleed. You proved you were my equal. And, it all happened after the bond snapped for you.’
Azriel remembered that day. He had wanted to impress her. It was the day he felt the warmth of her breath on him for the first time. For days and nights to come, he relived those moments until his skin prickled with heat.
N’s unsure laughter died soon when he didn’t even blink. His shadows retreated. His end of their bond quietened, alarming her.
Finally, he said, ‘All this time you were my wife?’
Her breath stuck to her throat. ‘According to our custom, yes.’
‘And you kept that a secret.’ His wings flared behind him to their full glory and his eyes narrowed. ‘What did we discuss about your secrets?’
N leaned back, ‘Was I supposed to tell you all this when I had your blade to your throat? I’m not sure you’d have been open to that conversation.’ Her voice reeked of confidence but Azriel saw the facade waning in her darkening eyes.
Memories flitted through his mind—visions of her from the instant he laid his eyes on her to the present. Every misfortune they endured, every second they spent in love, every. . .
He stalked her on his knees, his hands on either side of her. He hissed, ‘You slept with those males after that.’ A sound escaped his throat, a rumble deep from his chest. ‘My wife slept with other males to spite me.’
N stared at his lips and swallowed thickly. She hurried back, her hands slipping on the smooth marble under her. 'Azriel,' she whined wincing at the way her body welcomed her impending doom.
Azriel inhaled sharply. ’You like that? When I call you my wife?’ He chuckled darkly. His lips whispered against hers, ‘Of all the things you kept from me, this is the worst. You’re not getting out of this easy this time.’
N pleaded with her eyes. Her breaths shuddered. ‘They are watching.’
‘Then they’ll know my actions are justified.’
Azriel dove for his kill but before his hands grasped her, she faded away. Her airy laughter echoed in his ears. She stood in the middle of the room—her hands gently clutching her skirt to free her feet, her braid coming undone over her shoulder, teeth sinking into her plump lip—a vision of devilry and seduction.
His eyes flashed up to hers with a glint. His shadows who wanted vengeance of their own circled his shoulders and arms with a frenzy. N was in trouble and she knew it. She turned to run only to be met with his hard chest emerging from a dark mist.
‘Did you really think you could get away?’ He caressed her cheek, ‘There’s no escape from me. You should know that by now.’
N slid her arms around his neck. ‘Back then, we barely knew each other. I didn’t want to scare you.’ She looked into his eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’ She sent every ounce of sincerity in her being through their bond, still he kept his end cloaked.
Azriel pulled his arms away. Dark amusement shone in his eyes. ‘As if a silly apology is going to save you.’
N smoothed her palms over his chest. ‘I know.’ Her lips brushed against his skin, littering his face with soft pecks. ‘I know,’ she kissed the corner of his lips, moving closer and closer to the centre as she breathed the words, ��I’ll make it up to you. For every secret.’
Even as N pressed her body into his, Azriel stood unmoved with a cruel smirk on his lips and his hands by his side. Her fingers wandered over his sculpted torso before unbuttoning his shirt. The shadows on his shoulders swayed, watching, waiting. The regal female who made others quiver with fear grovelled for his forgiveness, and his wretched heart grew giddy with power and pride.
Azriel itched to grab her waist and bite her lips until she bled for him again. A true victory in this duel. He closed his eyes in a wasted effort to tame his thoughts. At the first touch of her cool fingers on his bare chest, he almost gave in.
His eyes snapped open the moment N pulled her lips away. She dropped to her knees, her fingers dancing on his hips. Pressing a kiss below his navel, she inched her hands between his legs and fondled him with the heel of her palms. The warmth from her hands seeped through the cotton, which he was forced to wear upon their arrival, promising him the pleasure that awaited him.
In all the years with her, Azriel treated her lips as a relic–sacred and holy–a crown jewel in the trove that was her body. Something to be guarded, treasured, worshipped. He never had to take her mouth the way she offered to him to reach for the stars.
N smiled sweetly. The goddess who witnessed every vice and virtue under the sky knelt before him with love in her heart and devotion in her eyes.
Enchanted, Azriel watched her. His lips parted with a shaky breath. Their bond blazed with emotions he couldn’t name. At that moment, he knew there had never been nor ever will be a male more blessed than he was.
His scarred hand cradled her cheek tinged with a soft blush. She leaned in, closing her eyes, trapping his hand between her shoulder and face. She sighed. She kissed his wrist, his palm, his fingers.
Azriel couldn’t decide which was in more pain—his heart or his cock. Both, mere toys in her hands.
N grazed her lips against his clothed hardness and Azriel closed his eyes. His head fell back. A gasp escaped deep from his chest when her tongue soaked him through the fabric. He couldn't remember why he wanted to punish his sweet mate. He was close to breaking already and all she did was tease.
A sharp scrape of her teeth along his length had him bury his hand in her hair softer than the flowers that tumbled down her breast. He hissed in warning as his eyes held hers in a glare.
‘I want you to look at me,’ she smiled. That damned smile that masked her every cruelty.
Too much time had passed since they felt each other’s skin. Months, almost a year of not seeing each other, not holding each other. And there she was ready to worship him with her entire being if only for a night until their time ran out. Every move of hers had his heart wring in pain, the desire through the bond overwhelming and consuming his soul.
His shadows swooped down and pulled her to him. Azriel crashed his lips onto hers before her feet rested on the ground and stole every little breath from her chest. His shadows brought them to her bed, delicate and soft fit for a queen, like her.
He pried the cord that held her dress together below her breasts. His lips ventured south leaving a trail of red on her neck and chest while N rewarded him with her moans. Shadows, ever obedient, parted her dress to make way for their master’s hand to relish the smoothness of her skin. He caressed every inch of her body with his marred hands except where she ached for him the most. She pleaded and moaned, guiding his hand between her legs.
‘You shouldn’t have lied to me,’ he growled, letting his canines scratch her jaw. ‘You know how I feel about secrets, don’t you?’ A sob left her lips as the back of his fingers teased her entrance with the barest of touch. ‘Is this what you call making up? Crying and moaning until your husband fucks you?’
N froze. Her eyes stared into his with unspoken emotion that radiated clearly in their bond instead. ‘Azriel, please.’ His hand came down hard between her legs. She arched her back beautifully for him as a silent gasp escaped her lips.
Azriel memorised every pull of her muscles. ‘You should’ve known better.’ He slipped his fingers in and out, barely past her entrance, coaxing moans out of her. Her wetness had his mouth water. He undid his pants enough to ease himself out and thrusted into her in a single move.
They were perfect for each other—masochists at heart, denying themselves release until the day for their reunion drew closer and closer. N reached a hand out and clawed at his chest. Her eyes widened and soon glazed with pleasure. Her lungs ached for air. Her body begged to escape the feral male whose only intention was to devour her body and soul. Yet, she wrapped her legs around him.
Azriel waited panting, his heart losing its rhythm, shirt clinging to his back. N tugged him closer with her heels on his ass. He growled, baring his teeth. He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her to his chest. Her eyes fixated where his hips snapped against hers, where they were finally a whole. Each of her whimpers nudged him to quicken his pace.
He felt his release closing in. ‘Is this what you want?’ She looked up, mewling for him, her eyes burning with tears. Too soon. He pulled out of her weeping cunt and dove in with his tongue.
N cried out his name, sweeter than any melody she had ever sung for him. Her body slumped on the bed. She sought for leverage, her hands fisting the pillows. As she felt her fingers grasping at reality, shadows weaved around her wrist and pinned them above her head.
Azriel watched his mate’s body collapse and crash at his ministrations. He dug his fingers into her thighs tearing them open. Her bright eyes pinched shut before she met his crazed ones. With her chest glistening with sweat, her neck reddening, and her teeth sinking into her wet, swollen lips, she came.
Watching her body shiver with every lick of the evening breeze, Azriel rid himself of his clothes. He leaned down to kiss her lips, but she stared dazed. He laughed and nipped at the insides of her bicep, clearing the fog in her mind. Her arms flushed red as blood rushed back. Her fingers twitched and his shadows trickled along them. She came alive with whines when he slipped his fingers inside her.
Her desire came in waves through the bond. A groan rose from his chest, a guttural rumble. Even after his transgressions, she only wanted more, more of him. N clenched around his fingers at the sound. Azriel chuckled darkly into her ear. N curled into herself and clenched again. A renewed glint came to his eyes as he stared into hers.
‘She likes my voice, does she now? I always wondered. . .’ He lowered himself between her legs again, his second haven, the first being her embrace. A series of soft ‘please’ escaped her but the lust in her eyes told a different story, the bond sang a different tune. And he chose to heed its calling.
He wrapped a hand around her thigh and pushed the other aside with his shoulder. He didn’t want to miss this one. It was no new knowledge. He always had his suspicions, years of practice in observing the unobserved. But to finally see it with his own eyes, he was desperate to witness it. He wanted it to be true, he prayed for it to be true.
The room was filled with nothing but N’s silent pleas. Her wetness glistened in the last lights of dusk promising him an elixir crafted just for him. A fresh wave of arousal rolled over her body. Azriel hummed, breathing in the scent.
‘So pretty,’ he exhaled. His eyes took in every flutter that invited him back. ‘You like being praised, don’t you?’ N moaned fighting against the shadows that held her hostage. Azriel pulled her close by her hip and inhaled—loud and deep—his nose almost touching her.
‘Always wet for me, eager for me.’ His voice softened, his taunts dying as if his anger was meant for N and not her cunt, ‘I missed you so much. I can tell you missed me too,’ he pressed his lips to her thigh, his eyes unwavering, ‘by the way you wrapped around me, by the way you swallowed me.’ His cock throbbed at his own words.
He rasped, ‘Look at you, teasing me. Do you want a kiss?’ He flattened a hand on her abdomen, his fingers stroking deliberate patterns. ‘My tongue, my fingers? Hmm?’ Her hip jerked up for more and he pressed a kiss to the arch above her clit.
'Azriel, please. I want more.'
‘So wanton, so needy.’ A wisp of shadow licked her entrance once and N closed her eyes. Her hips moved in tandem as if she could materialise what she needed out of thin air. ‘So beautiful.’ Azriel grazed a thumb along the junction where her leg met her hip. N fell back with a groan.
‘You want me, don’t you? You never lie to me,’ another kiss to her thigh, ‘You can’t lie. Unlike N,’ his eyes finally caught her desperate ones. For a moment, he almost felt tyrannical to let the wicked smile pull at his lips. N threw her head back and circled her hips again.
‘That’s it, pretty. Show me how you’d fuck me. Show me how beautiful you are.’ His tongue trailed a line alongside his thumb, ‘Come for me.’
Her legs went taut around his shoulders. Her toes dug into his back next to where his wing emerged from. When her stomach sank in, Azriel shoved two fingers inside and held it there as she unravelled with a choked moan.
Pure, perverse pride filled his chest as his mate bucked and thrashed at the impact. Azriel was sick—sick at heart, sick in his desires. He never denied it. But it hardly felt a sickness with N trembling with his fingers inside.
Having lived through the horrors he did and committed unspeakable sins over his lifetime, Azriel knew there was no absolution for him. Nor that he cared. He already had his heaven, right there, in front of him, basking in the afterglow of pure pleasure.
He nuzzled his nose into her thigh to steal a little more warmth from her exhausted body. He brushed his cheek against her, closing his eyes, savouring the moment before his primal need destroyed the only person he loved the most. He hummed satisfied, pressing the lightest of kisses to her skin, his pathetic attempt to atone for the wicked he unleashed upon her. His heart should cower in shame and guilt, yet it swelled with love and hunger.
His name, whispered once, tore his attention from his perverted thoughts. He never cared for what he was called. But in her sweet voice, a sacred chant uttered in the confines of their chamber, he liked no word more than his own name. His shadows answered her call, smoothed over her sweat-covered body apologising for their master’s sadism, burning her skin with their delicate coolness. Some mercy, for they were no better than him.
Azriel brushed a thumb along her cheek gathering her tears away, a tender kiss placed in their stead. He smiled like a gentle lover. He parted her lips with his fingers soaked in her essence and slid them past her teeth.
With hooded eyes, N looked up at the male who sought the remnants of her soul clinging to her body and sucked on the tips. Her tongue rivalled the wetness between her legs. She was a true seductress.
Azriel lapped at his fingers and the lips sheathing them alike, tasting her whole at once, embracing the insanity he fought to stave off for so long. Even when he slipped his fingers out of her mouth, even when he pressed his body onto hers, even when he lined himself to her welcoming heat, he didn’t break the kiss like her lips were his only tether to reality.
N stilled beneath him. Another tear slipped from the corner of her beautiful eyes. Azriel was cruel, but he was capable of loving his mate right. He wrapped a hand around her shoulder and smoothed a palm over her hip. He inched in slowly into her pulsing cunt, ‘Give me one more, love. Just one. For me?’
His mate, ever merciful, nodded. The adoration that flowed through the golden string between their hearts reflected in her eyes. ‘Please,’ she said breathlessly, ‘please, Azriel. I want to touch you.’
The one whose dangerous hands slit throats of the most feral of males and females with grace asked to touch him so sweetly. How could he deny anything to her?
His shadows didn’t wait for his instructions. They released her arms and slid over to the skin their master left unattended, staking their claim on her body. Azriel reined them back only to lose control again. She made him jealous of his own shadows, ones meant to serve him, ones who forgot their place around her.
A long sigh pulled his focus back to her. Too exhausted to hold him like she always did, N ran her hands along his sides. ‘I missed you.’
‘I missed you too.’ Azriel lifted her thigh higher and wrapped it around his waist ripping a whine from her throat. He did miss her. He missed everything about her. Her raw devotion to him, her pure heart, her unconditional love.
As he moved deeper and deeper still, he felt it. The echo of a song he knew too well, one of love and longing that kept them connected through the times of separation. Beyond the familiarity of its thrum, he recognised something else.
Like catching a flicker of light after being lost in the dark for long. Like the first time he gained control of the darkness he was born with. Like the first time he tasted his freedom. In her arms, everything made sense. His breaths strained.
Tears flowed freely from her eyes. ‘I missed you,’ There was a tremor in her voice. Azriel soothed her with his own declarations but she shook her head, ‘Don’t make me leave you again. Please, I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t, not without you.’
Azriel always believed he loved her more than she could love him in her lifetime. His petty display of jealousy and temper, a proof of his love. What an arrogant fool. His heart ached for failing to truly see his beloved’s feelings for him, how deep it ran in her veins, how it destroyed her while it breathed life into him.
He pulled her close, enveloping her in his comfort, and his wings draped around them.
‘Promise me, Azriel.’ She closed her eyes, ‘Please.’
‘I’m here now,’ he caressed her cheek. He left kisses on her forehead, eyes, cheeks, and finally on her lips. ‘I’m here. I’m with you, love. I’m here.’ And at those words, N let go one last time leading him to his release.
Azriel left his shaking mate in the bed with a kiss when he came back to his senses to draw a bath. He stood by the door of her bathroom and watched his shadows tickle the skin below her ear. A light chuckle escaped her lips as more chased her hand. It was a sight he was used to and missed dearly.
N smiled at him as he carried her in his arms. Her body shivered at the first touch as Azriel lowered her into the tub. She tugged at his wrist, and he joined in. She leaned her back into his chest and closed her eyes. The water washed her exhaustion away while his hands massaged her tender flesh. Her eyes struggled to stay open and she sank deeper against him. As he dried her tenderly after, she watched him with an easy smile.
Azriel carried her out to the bedroom and paused. Fresh sheets lined her bed. Sweet fragrance of jasmine lingered in the air. Lit candles stood on windows and her desk. Moonlight streamed past the drawn curtains. His shadows failed to notice, too lost in her as he was.
‘I told you they were watching,’ N said, her voice quiet and tired.
He eased her into the bed and pulled a blanket over her legs. He traced the marks of red on her stomach and between her breasts, marring her pristine skin—still a masterpiece—complete, perfect. ‘Do you think they’ll let me near you again after seeing what I’ve done?’ He couldn’t stop the smile that cruelly tugged at his mouth.
N groaned, throwing a hand over her eyes. ‘I’m pretty sure Mother Aarzu is already dissecting how you wrecked me for her next seduction lesson.’
‘Well then,’ Azriel laid beside her and pulled her to his chest, ‘I’m willing to contribute more to these lessons. They sound very necessary.’
She glared from behind her hand. ‘Mock all you want but your brothers are worse. I bet Rhysand was listening to your thoughts the whole time. And they are already planning on ways to taunt you.’
Azriel lifted a brow. He opened his mouth to defend his ability to guard his thoughts when his brother’s laughter echoed in his mind. ‘Your shields are pathetic when she’s around. They went down the moment her lips were on you.’ N flinched in his arms and he knew his brother invaded her mind as well for his next words, ‘Thanks for the show. Quite an. . .inspiration.’
N scoffed, ‘I don’t know why we do it behind closed doors.’ Her words had his mind conjure ideas already. A frown appeared between her brows. She looked at him sharply when she felt a hardness pressing into her hip, ‘We’re not doing that.’
Azriel laughed aloud. Something he hadn’t done in a while after he sent his mate away. ‘Anything my wife wants,’ he teased. He cradled her face against his chest and kissed her eye. ‘Anything you want.’
#azriel#azriel fanfic#azriel fanfiction#azriel shadowsinger#azriel spymaster#azriel x reader#azriel x reader angst#azriel x reader smut#azriel angst#azriel smut#azriel acotar#acotar#acotar fanfic#acotar fanfiction#acotar x reader#a court of thorns and roses#acotar smut#acotar angst#acotar x reader smut
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Can I have some g1 soundwave x reader please😅😅😅😅😅
Being the only femme Cybertronian on the Ark can be... something. Especially when some of them try hitting on you without getting to know you; quite annoying really, but you keep it pushed down; but some people can tell because of your alt-mode.
You stayed in the Ark because of your job as a medic. Your alt-mode is a heartbeat monitor, which also corresponds with your sparkbeats, which is how some people, very few, can tell what you're feeling.
You made your own little base of operations under an abandoned amusement park. You'd bring in people who were injured and left behind in the ruckus of the battlefield between the two factions. Human or Decepticon.
Whenever it's a human, you'd ask them to promise to not tell your Autobot friends about your place of escape, and they do. But with Decepticons, you make sure that they are knocked out, and you just give them a few amounts of anesthesia because they would break in, destroy the place, kidnap you and hold you for ransom against your friends.
One day, when looking through one of the many aftermaths of a battle, you found a minicon in the rubble, Soundwave's minicon: Frenzy. When you took him back to your base, you realized you've forgotten to stock up on more anesthesia, so now you have to worry with the fact that he might wake up soon as you did the procedure of fix-and-repair.
As you were putting your tools away, he woke up with a fright, and you quickly explained the situation to him, which slightly calmed him down. Key word: Slightly. He was suspicious of you but is slowly diminished as you continued to work on the minor injuries that just need a new paint job and be buffed. The last bit disappeared in an instant when you gave him an Energon Goodie.
When he came by again, to your surprise that he remembered the way here, you gave a tour of the place above, he somehow managed to get the place up and running again; thank Primus that your location was miles away from the nearest civilization.
As time went by, Rumble found out, then Ravage, then Laserbeak. When they come to visit, it would be like as if there was no war, they're having a good time in the amusement park.
Sooner or later, Soundwave got suspicious. Where were his kids minicons going late at night?
Being the best spy he is, he followed them, and was surprised that they were hanging out with an Autobot, weren't fighting like there was a war, stopping a fight between Rumble and Frenzy as calm as possible- and somehow easily get them to make up?! He couldn't do that without them continuing to squabble with each other.
He used his telepathy powers to look into your thoughts to see if you secretly had ill intentions with his sons minicons, but there wasn't any!
When his minicons return back to base, it's an instant interrogation the moment they step foot back in the habsuite: How long has this been going on? How did this happen in the first place? What do she always do with them? The only questions that were about you were answered back with positivity.
Curious, he decided to look more into your file when the Decepticons fight the Autobots near the Ark. When he does, all he finds is all good things.
When it was the next time they decided to visit, he wanted to meet her in person. And so he did, and by Primus were you nervous. You were worried he might blow your helm up. You, Soundwave, and his minicons walked through the park, watching the minicons play games, ride the rides; he began to trust you.
The more you all hang out in private, at your secret location, the more you begin to bond closer together, mainly you and Soundwave; the minicons noticed it as clear as day.
So, being mischievous little ones they are, Rumble and Frenzy decided to stage a lil' something. In private, the minicons would call Soundwave Sire, or dad in human terms. So, when the next time you and they met up, they would unexpectedly drop Carrier, mom, at random times in the night. When they first did it, they'd put on an act like as if they didn't mean to say it and it just slip. You fell for their act, so did Soundwave because it was unexpected.
They see you? An Autobot medic? As a parental figure? I mean, sure, you heal up their injuries, you give them Energon sweets if they be good and behave, calmly deal with their fights, gives them sweet head pats, have the most caring optics he's seen, the most beautiful smile- Oh, scrap! He's in love.
He would lie awake at night, questioning why he found you attractive. For starters, your gently touch that he felt when you repaired him, your smiles seem to shine brighter than any star, and sound from your vocalizer was like a siren's call and he was the sailor that was lured by its enchanting melody, your optics the prettiest shade of blue that rivals with this hunk of rock's sky, have the spirit of a Carrier with his kids- Primus, he was hooked, lined and had sunk deep.
After he came to terms with his newfound emotions, he started noticing something about you. Every single time he was close to you, he'd see the screen of your alt-mode, on your chassis, start getting taller. One time, he danced with you as music played in the park, and he saw that the big spikes became frequent, and a subtle blush would be on your cheek plates that you try to hide with your servo and turning your helm to the side. He found this adorable, so much that he became addicted to having that cute blush on your face.
When back on the Ark, you would get pings from an unknown comm-link number, only to realize it's Soundwave, and he's sending you something. When you are finally alone in your habsuite, you would take a look to see that they were poems; they were so sweet, you reread them, laying on your berth, kicking your feet as you excitedly giggle from how nice, sweet, and adorable they are that they might as well be invitations for Cupid to continue to shoot arrows into your spark, making you fall harder for the Con.
When they spent the night in your secret base, you all had fun doing any activity that comes to mind: pillow/blanket forts, teaching the little ones the steps on how you make your glorious Energon Goodies, etc. The last activity was a horror movie marathon. Every time a jump scare would pop up on the screen, you would hug the closest bot, and it just so happened to be Soundwave. During the horror movie marathon, you, Soundwave, and his kids ended up in a cuddle pile, scared, all but Soundwave, Ravage, and Laserbeak.
They decided to spend the night here before returning to the Decepticon base at the break of dawn. You decided to put the little ones to sleep. He decided to start cleaning up the mess that was made, and when he finished, he came back to you telling the ending of an old Cybertron bedtime story.
To him, it looked so nice and peaceful, and you looked so motherly that he just wanted to confess right there, right now. What sealed the deal was you placing a goodnight kiss on the top of their helms, tucking them to sleep before leaving the room they were occupying, only to be dragged off to somewhere by Soundwave, into the place you slept in from time-to-time.
You wondered what was happening, until Soundwave got on one knee plate, servos holding your own, visor looking up into your optics, glistening as he let out a very poetic, charming, delightful, exquisite of him telling you about his feelings, everything about you that made his spark soar: your voice, your optics, your touch, everything.
He carefully watched the screen on you chassis to see if there was any indication of making you uncomfortable or not. And by the end of his heartfelt confession, he watched the heart monitor didn't make any giant spikes. Oh, no. It made a heart at the center of the monitor as blush covers your entire faceplate.
Part 2 coming soon!
#transformers#transformers g1#transformers g1 x reader#g1 x reader#soundwave#soundwave x reader#g1 soundwave x reader#cybertronian reader#frenzy#rumble#laserbeak#ravage
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And I return with some ghost Obi. Thanks @queenaelinwildfire!
Spinning off of Sparky, ghost Obi haunting Jango
Ooo bonus points if it’s smol obi wan
When the boy first appeared, Jango had been sure it’d been the spice. Hallucinations were hardly new and the young boy who stared at him with frightened eyes was hardly the strangest thing he saw. In fact, the boy who whispered warnings about when the slavers were coming, and told him that Neeva—the young togruta girl a few slaves down—was dying, and told him stories about men in white armor who died forgotten heroes, was perhaps the kindest hallucination that Jango experienced.
Except the boy didn’t go away. Not when Jango killed the slavers. Not when Jango detoxed. Not when Jango left behind all but the scars of his time with the slavers.
Jango hadn’t quite believed in ghosts before, but he had no other explanation for the boy that followed him unerringly from the slavers’ ship to Concord Dawn to the ugly, worn down ship he eventually acquired.
“You have a reason for haunting me, kid?” he asked.
The boy frowned. His hand came to his neck where a collar rested.
Jango had tried not to think about that particular accessory too much.
“I don’t know,” the boy admitted. “I… I don’t remember how I got here.”
Jango was going to guess that the answer included ‘dying’. “You need help moving on?” Jango asked. Though he had no idea how he would help some ghost move on. Jaster would have, though.
Jango blocked out the thought.
“I don’t know,” the boy admitted. “I don’t think so. I think I’m here for a reason.”
Great. A reason. That explained so much. “What’s your name?”
The boy’s brow furrowed. “I… I don’t know.” The boy sounded alarmed, as though he’d just realized he didn’t have a name.
Well, there went trying to track down where the boy had come from. All Jango had to go on was the rough mining clothes the boy was wearing, several sizes too large for him, and the collar around his neck.
Mining colonies weren’t exactly sparse in this galaxy. Even narrowing it down to mining colonies that used slavery didn’t help.
The Republic might claim that slavery was outlawed, but that didn’t mean much, Jango had discovered.
“Do you have a name you want me to call you?” Jango asked, because while Jango could keep calling him ‘the boy’ it seemed…
Wrong.
If Myles were here, Myles would have already named the kid. It’d probably have been something meaningful and well thought out.
If Silas were here, he’d have helped the kid come up with a name on his own. He’d have turned it into a game, until the kid didn’t even remember he was upset.
If Jaster were here…
Jango tried not to think about what Jaster would have done.
The boy frowned and Jango could tell he was thinking. “Obi,” the boy said finally. “I think… I think I like Obi.”
“Obi,” Jango agreed. He wondered if it was the kid’s actual name, hidden in the depths of his mind. “You going to keep following me around?”
Obi tilted his head. “I think so. I don’t want you to be alone.” Obi’s gaze was piercing. “Are you going to go home?” he asked. “Now that you’re free?”
Jango swallowed. “I don’t have a home to go to.”
Obi’s eyes echoed with a terrible sadness. “You’re afraid.”
Jango closed his eyes. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said, words coming out short.
“Sometimes I dream I can’t go home either,” Obi whispered. “In the dream, I want the desert sands to strip me to my bones.”
Jango flinched, but added the piece of information to the possibility of where Obi had come from. Though, there were a spare few mining colonies on desert planets. The combination was rarely conducive to the most valuable of mining operations.
“It’s not the same kid.”
Obi stared at him. “I think they’d want you to come back.” His hand rubbed at the metal collar around his neck again. “Wherever home is. They… they probably miss you.”
Jango scoffed. He’d gotten so many of their people killed, the ones that remained could hardly want him back. “Not likely, kid.”
“In my dreams, they died because of me,” Obi whispered.
Apparently being a ghost made the kid telepathic. Jango was not a fan. But it was… it was a kid, a dead kid. Jango didn’t have the heart to try to get rid of him, unless it was to bring him home.
“Just a dream, kid.”
Obi looked away. “What if it’s not? Do… do we never get to go home?”
Jango sighed. “Come on, let me teach you how to navigate in and out of hyperspace.” He’d noticed that the kid looked like he enjoyed watching Jango in the cockpit. Sure, the kid would never need the skills himself, being dead and all, but Jango didn’t know what else to do with the dead kid that was stuck with Jango.
Obi nodded, following Jango back to the cockpit. It was the end of the conversation.
Or it should have been.
The question haunted Jango as the months passed. Would he ever get to go home? With the sins that weighed so heavy on his shoulders? It’d been years. Years as a slave and now nearly a year free.
He looked at Obi, who hadn’t aged since the day he’d found Jango in the hull of the slave ship. Just a kid. Always a kid. A dead kid that couldn’t go home. Whose closest thing to home was Jango and Jango’s ship.
Jango had been determined not to think of it, of what he’d lost, of what was gone, of what he could never allow himself to have again.
Do we never get to go home?
Was that why the kid was stuck as a ghost? Had he told himself he was never allowed to go home? Had he trapped himself in some sort of eternal punishment.
Jango had never heard of it happening before, but he wasn’t a scholar, and this universe was full of things stranger than Jango could believe.
Do we never get to go home?
Was that why the kid had found him? Because he saw Jango’s punishment as his own?
Because this life Jango lived now, constantly chasing the next bounty, with nothing but a ghost at his side… was it a life? Was Jango just as much a ghost as the dead kid that haunted him.
“Where are we going next?” Obi asked when the next hunt finished.
Jango stared at the controls on the cockpit’s dashboard.
Do we never get to go home?
Did he?
The kid needed a home. Jango… Jango couldn’t give him the one he’d been taken from. But…
“Concord Dawn,” he said.
“Where’s that?” Obi asked. “Is there a hunt there?”
Jango shook his head. “No, kid. We’re going home.”
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Long after Lister and the Cat are gone, and Rimmer has shut himself down, Kryten is left alone again. Going senile like Holly and suffering with android dementia, he wanders Red Dwarf still trying to keep the ship in order.
Warning: very sad oneshot
Grade 2 dust on the G deck pipes again. Kryten flapped his microfiber dusting cloth and took care of the unsightly dust that had settled on the oxygen pipes that run along the corridor. Such details were important. Five minutes later— or was it ten? He’d have to recalibrate his internal clock. His cloth was now significantly blackened, he would have to make his way to the laundry for it to join the next load. It was just two decks down. All he had to do was get to the Xpress Lift at the end of the corridor and head down. It couldn’t be simpler. Big jerky steps took him along the guiding yellow line on the floor that led to the lift.
He was following the yellow line. Definitely the yellow line. Just like Dorothy. It was patchy in places and crossed over the green and red lines in several places. It was a right mess. They were meant to be directional, somebody was going to get lost if they tried following these to get to where they’re trying to be. Those lines need to be repainted. The skutters should be able to take care of that. Kryten stopped his walk to quickly program a reminder for himself to organise the repainting.
Kryten had always related to the tin man, but the scarecrow in need of a brain was who he felt more like these days. He wasn’t sure why, isn’t this how things have always been? That was a 20th century film. What was it called again? He wondered why he even had the information on disk. Who would have shown it to him?
Humming the tune to ‘follow the yellow brick road’ as he carefully stepped on the patchy and wonky yellow line, what Kryten wasn’t aware of in that moment, was that he had painted those wonky lines 10 days ago.
His mind was confused. He forgot things, he got lost and turned around, things that should be familiar sometimes scared him. He hadn’t always been like this. 4 and a half million years ago he was top of the range exquisite technology. His head was packed with RAM and memory far larger than any mechanoid before. Now his components were failing him. He’d long-since run out of spare parts, with no materials to replace them. Maybe it was one too many corrupt files he’d had to scrub from his harddrive. Maybe it was a scorched circuit somewhere, or a screw loose. Maybe it was because he was so, so old. His system computer hadn’t updated his status in a very long time, he wasn’t aware of what was wrong, so that meant that nothing was wrong.
The Xpress Lift parted its doors and Kryten took his robotic jerky steps inside.
‘Where to?’ asked the lift.
Kryten stood there for a few moments, calculating and examining, scanning his surroundings for clues. He’d already forgotten about heading to the laundry, even with the dirty cloth still in his hand.
"Do excuse me," he said politely to the lift, "I seem to have taken a wrong turn. I will not be needing your services right this moment," and he stepped back out of the lift. He looked at the thick, flat, intertwining breadths of colour on the floor. It looked like a muddled bag of jelly snakes all wrapped around each other, and the longer he looked at them the more muddled they became. Kryten shook his head to recalibrate his eyes. He could’ve sworn he’d seen the snakes wriggling.
There were toilets further up the corridor, and Kryten ignored the jelly snake lines as he went back the way he came to get to them.
These toilets were never dirty, never clogged. It was as if nobody ever used them. That can’t be. There had to be a crew using them every day.
Hold on.
Where was the crew?
Kryten’s internal cooling fans started to spin faster.
The ship had a crew, it did. He remembered Miss Anne. She had big black hair, it got everywhere, he was always cleaning it up. But he hadn’t seen her or her hair for a long time. Hadn’t she died? Hadn’t they all died?
The noise of the fans spinning as he overheated buzzed through his body.
Yes, yes. She had died. She was on the Nova 5. They had crashed and the humans had died. Then he was alone. He’s still alone. How long had he been alone?
No, no. He was a mechanoid. He wasn’t supposed to feel alone, he wasn’t supposed to feel anything.
So why did he?
He couldn’t remember breaking his programming, nor could he remember who it was that helped him do it. The name of the ship he was on, and had been on for over a million years eluded him. The only companions he knew of now were the last remaining skutters. The only voices he heard were automated. There was nothing left to remind him of how much it meant to him to be a person. There was no one to look after, no one to joke with. Kryten had lost his friends and lost himself long ago.
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Business Proposal || knj (9/?)
pairing: namjoon x f!reader || ex friends to lovers!au friends to lovers!au
Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fwb!au, non idol!au, unrequited love
Warnings: slow burn, angst, fluff, flirting, semi-edited, smut, fingering, eating out, unprotected sex.
Rating: mature, 18+
w.c: 8.0
Synopsis: Namjoon is living on borrowed time, and it’s time to cash in. His father is months from taking his last breathe and his life long dream is to watch his oldest son say “I do.”
A/n: lol, hello, I'm sorry for being so MIA lately. I kinda have had half of this written since November but my mom came to visit me in Korea and I forgot about it haha. If you are still here thank you for sticking around! Enjoy! Let me know your thoughts!
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10 Years Ago
Things were finally looking up.
“If you just remember everything we have gone over you'll be fine.” He simply says like it's no big deal, waving you off.
You on the other hand are filled with the gnawing pain of your nerves. As you look down at your notebook filled with an equal mixture of correct and incorrect answers.
Maybe things weren't really looking up.
“I think we should do a few more.” You rush out, flipping to a new page. In that exact moment, the buzzer in Namjoon's hand goes off, and he stands up.
He pushes in his chair and walks to stand beside you, putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Over studying is not the answer.” He says gently, giving your shoulder a light squeeze before walking away to pick up your drinks.
Your protest dying as you burn daggers into his back. You aren't sure if it's a good thing that he has so much faith in you. When you don't have an ounce in yourself. Especially when in two days you'll hopefully end your misery with the dreaded math final.
It's been two whole months since you've started your weekly tutoring sessions with Namjoon. You aren't completely lost in class anymore. If you are, you just come to the broad man and drown him in all kinds of questions. With this tactic you've even managed to get an eighty-five present in your last math test.
The only thing left for you to pass is the stupid final.
You have been seeing Namjoon a lot more this week. Scheduling, and practically begging him to squeeze you into his tight schedule since Monday. A request to brush up on equations and gain some clarity on things you might have forgotten. To say the least, your test anxiety has reached a whole new level. You visibly look exhausted, your skin is oilier than usual, sporting a few painful pimples on your chin, and your hair looks so greasy despite just washing it in the morning. You should feel slightly ashamed for even leaving your house looking like a hot mess, but your thoughts are suffocating. Staying in would make the panic in the pit of your stomach worse.
Especially when you and your tutor have recently discovered your inability to do word problems. The main reason why you keep calling Namjoon at three in the morning. Even though he thinks you're just being paranoid, especially with the silent sigh of defeat you hear through your phone speaker. He tries his best to reassure you that you're going to be fine at the end of the day.
“There will probably be three, five at most. He had said last night when you called.
Thankfully he had stayed up revising his final paper, instead of being three dimensions deep in dream land like on Sunday when you called. Still, even though he had muttered out a tiny complaint, he stayed on the line with you. Until you were calm enough to fall asleep again.
In just three months your acquaintance has blossomed into a full on friendship. Along with your sneaking suspicion that both Taehyung and Jimin like him better. It was obvious last Friday night when Jimin had a small end of the semester get together at his apartment. Namjoon got so drunk he performed the entirety of Grease Lightning on karaoke. Including the dance break with special guest and step brother Jeon Jungkook.
Later on in the night the older of the four cried about the final scene in the Titanic. It was a rollercoaster of emotions, but heartwarming to be able to see a different side of the Philosophy student.
“Look who decided to join us.” You jump, placing your pen down in your notebook, closing it to hold your page. You turn around, feeling a wide smile come onto your face when you lock eyes with the other source of your happiness these last few months.
“Hobi,” you exclaim, holding your arms out to him. He chuckles, and leans down giving you one of those awkward hugs one gives when the other person is sitting down. It only lasts a few seconds and then he is leaning his head back to plant a sloppy kiss on your cheek, making you cringe.
“Ew,” you pout, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. He chuckles, pecking your lips lightly and then taking the seat next to you.
“Joon says you need a break from being a math wizard.” He chuckles, dragging your notebook to him. He places his arms over it keeping it hostage.
You whine crossing your arms in front of you, pouting like a child. “But what if I don't pass. I don't want to have to take the class a third time.”
Namjoon shakes his head, sets your chamomile tea in front of you, and sits down. “I already told you, you won't. I did the math last night. Even if you get a sixty five percent, you'll still be able to pass the class with a B.” He states firmly and takes a sip from his coffee.
You huff, sinking further into the chair. “I don't want a B, I want an A.”
Hoseok snakes an arm over your shoulders and brings you close to his side.” “Then you will pass the class with an A honey cakes.” He kisses your temple before resting his cheek on top of your head. You take a deep breath, nodding and snuggling closer to him.
“So are you two dating now?” Namjoon leans back in his seat, crossing his arms in front of him.
Hoseok waves an arm, brushing off the question that has been surrounding the two of you these past three weeks. “You know it's not like that.” He answers before you can. He pulls his arm away and sets them both on top of your notebook. He sends you a knowing wink.
“Yeah you out of all people should know it's not like that.” You back up Hoseok, sticking your tongue out at the other. “How's Rina by the way?” You challenge making the man next to you burst out in a fit of giggles.
You see, most of the things Jungkook told you about Namjoon prior to your first meeting have all been lies. Or just not the whole truth.
Namjoon was a broody person. He did put his studies as one of his priorities in life. And he didn't want a relationship.
Yet in the last few months you have gotten to know the career driven man. You've also managed to peel back some of his layers.
He did have his moments of indignation, but he could also be very playful and funny. This side mostly comes out when Hoseok is around or when he wants you to get your mind off the things that have been stressing you out. He does have a strong work ethic, but he also knows when to take a break.
There have even moments in your tutoring slash now study sessions when he forces you to take walks. He says it helps clear your head, but you also know it's his way to get his ideas to flow again whenever he feels stuck.
During these walks you've managed to find out more things about him. He loves museums because he's shit at art, and knowing that there are people out there who aren't makes him appreciate the art a lot more. At least once every two months he visits the tree he and his father planted his mother’s ashes at to update her on his life. He cares so much for Jungkook and his mother even if he doesn't show it all the time. And despite not wanting a relationship he has been head over heels for the girl he's been casually hooking up with for the last two years.
Though he won't come out and say it himself. You have witnessed the way his face settles down into something calmer. And his eyes light up whenever his phone rings and her name pops up on the screen.
He once spent thirty minutes talking about a joke she had told him one night. Spoiler alert, it wasn't a good one, but it was adorable watching him try to get it out in-between chuckles.
You also know he shares the same negative sentiment Jungkook has about your current relationship with his best friend. But just like he claims that his relationship with Rina is complicated. So, is yours with the ray of sunshine you get to now call friend.
“She's fine.” He shrugs, clearing his throat and looking out the window. You share a look with Hoseok before letting out a fit of shared giggles.
If someone had once told you that your strict math tutor slash friend would turn into a shy mess with just the simple mention of a name. You would've thought they were fucking with you. Even if it still surprises you a little bit.
“You should just ask her to be your girlfriend.” Hoseok chimes in.
Namjoon throws his head back groaning. “It wouldn't work out if I do, plus that would require for me to act like a boyfriend and I'm not ready for that kind of commitment.” He speaks with his eyes trained on the high ceiling of the cafe.
You lean forward placing your elbows on top of the table and wrapping your arms around the hot mug. “You already do Namjoon. A switch of labels is not going to change anything. And don't you think she deserves some kind of confirmation and respect when it comes to your relationship?” You finish tilting your head to the side.
“I do respect her though, which is why I don't want to ask her, like you just said a label won't change anything.”
You let out a sigh, “I didn't say that you didn't respect her. I just think that from a girl's perspective she might be feeling a little bit confused with your words and actions. You say the two of you aren't anything serious but then you act like you can't live without her. If I was in her shoes I would feel very frustrated. So, maybe you don't have to make this big grand gesture or ask her to officially be your girlfriend but just clarify things between the two of you. If you aren't serious about her then so be it but if you are then tell her that.” You finish and take your first sip from your tea.
“I agree with honey cakes, just be a little more straight forward that's all.” Hoseok shrugs before standing up.
Namjoon rolls his eyes, and looks between the two of you. “And what about you?” He counteracts childishly. You knew it was coming. In his eyes the two of you giving him advice when you're in a similar situation is a bit hypocritical. Plus you and Hoseok are on the same page so it's di–
“That's different.” Hoseok speaks before you. “And this is about your love life not ours.” He states stuffing his hands in his pockets.
“Whatever.” Namjoon brushes off. You sigh, aware that if you choose to continue the conversation it will end in the three of you having a petty argument. You look at Hoseok as he leans down, placing a delicate kiss on your cheek, making the man witnessing the affectionate gesture scoff in annoyance.
If he wants to say something he doesn't voice it instead he opens his leather bound notebook to a new page.
Hoseok ignores him and stands up straight. “Are we still on tonight?”
You nod. “I can't stay for long though I want to catch up on sleep.”
“Fine then just one movie it is.” He winks before turning on his heels. Leaving you behind with the grumpy man. He looks up from his journal, opening his mouth, but you raise a hand to stop him. “It's different Namjoon.”
Namjon clicks his tongue in annoyance and shrugs. “Whatever, let's just do one more world problem before calling it a day.”
“Fine,” you huff, sliding your notebook in front of you and opening it to a clean page.
Just one more day and you'll be free from this torture.
Hoseok's apartment is everything you expect from the maximest man. Just upon walking in you are hit with waves of bright colors. By the doorway there are different KAWS figurines that you can only imagine cost a fortune. Yet they greet you with their x'd out eyes as you remove your shoes.
Then you have to pass by the Supreme beaded curtain to finally enter the living room. A bright red leather couch is settled in the middle. With wine colored pillows and a black throw blanket that you've adopted since the first night you spent in Hoseok's arms.
Abstract art lines the walls behind the television. There are more figurines lining the shelves in between books, records, and framed pictures of his friends and families. Along with a few miscellaneous items that he's told you he's obtained over the years.
His TV is huge. Takes up almost the whole wall, but your favorite to watch movies since he installed a surround system upon moving in years ago.
You still remember the first night he invited you over. It was after spending two whole weeks texting non stop. He simply asked if you wanted to watch a movie with him and you thought why not.
One night led to another and now another. It always starts the same. The two of you spend days teasing one another through text. Lewd texts along with pictures. You come over for a movie and then you end up underneath him.
When it's over, he lets you use his shower while he orders takeout from the vegan restaurant a block down the road. And the two of you resume watching the movie as if neither of you were panting each other's names in pleasure.
A simple arrangement with absolutely no strings attached.
It was what you were expecting when you came over tonight. Not that you don't mind the nights in which you do come over and nothing happens other than the deep hearted talks over a slow record playing in the background. But that wasn't happening either, because ever since you arrived at his doorstep, the overzealous man has been quiet. Biting the inside of his cheek and moving around you far enough to raise suspicion.
It has your mind traveling back to the conversation that occurred in the afternoon. Was Hoseok having second thoughts? Or was there more to his actions than what you were picking up?
“Hobi,” you whisper the minute he enters his living room with a bowl of popcorn stepping over your legs that were resting on his coffee table. He silently settles down next to you, on the other side of the couch with a gap wide enough to fit a person in between.
Now you're more than positive that something is wrong.
You groan, “I think I'll just go home then.” You mumble, pushing the throw blanket of your shoulders.
This is enough to catch his attention. His eyes are wide behind his dark rimmed glasses and he sits up. “What why?” He tilts his head in confusion.
A dry chuckle escapes your lips. “You obviously don't want me around, so I'll just go. I need to go to sleep early anyway.” You shrug, slipping your feet in his fuzzy slippers and swiftly start making your way to grab your stuff in his room.
“No I–wait.” Finally, he speaks up, earning an eye roll from you that he can't see as your back is still turned.
With haltered steps you spin on your heel to face him again, “What? You've been acting strange since I got here. So, if you don't want me around I will just go home.”
At lightning speed he sets the bowl of popcorn on his coffee table, and stands up. He makes hasty steps towards you and when he is finally standing in front of you, he sets both of his hands on top of your shoulders.
“Don't leave…I'm sorry.” Hoseok's eyes cast down past your face. They settle upon the graphic on your old washed out t-shirt. He takes a deep breath and looks up again. His face twists into something you can't decipher. It's a look you've never seen him wear, and it settles hard into your chest.
He looks troubled, chewing on the inside of his cheek. His eyes dart to five different focal points. You know he's arguing with himself. When he finally looks at you in your eyes again. You can't help but shrink a little bit.
His features have hardened, and you want to reach out to smooth over the little worry lines in the middle of his forehead. Guilt washes over you.
For what?
You don't know but you hope more than anything that you'll soon find out.
“Can we talk?” He speaks up, letting his arms fall down, his knuckles brushing against your skin.
For a second you think he's going to pull away. Retrieve into his body, but when he grabs your hands and laces his fingers with yours. The guilt in the pit of your stomach dissipates and you're left with confusion.
When you don't answer his question, he repeats himself. This time differently, “I just think we need to talk, I've been thinking since this afternoon. I want to check up on you, and I guess us.” He clarifies, and now you're filled with a different kind of emotion. As much as you're relieved that you didn't do anything wrong per se. You are slightly annoyed that he couldn't just tell you that when you first arrived. Instead of ignoring you until you reached your breaking point.
Frustrated, you say slowly, “Then just say that, instead of ignoring me.”
Hoseok closes his eyes and sighs, nodding his head before speaking, “you're right I'm sorry. I just have a lot on my mind and I am not sure how to bring any of what I'm thinking about up.”
“Hobi, just say it. We agreed on clear communication when we realized that this was going to be more than just a one night stand.” You sigh, beginning to walk in the direction of his couch, stringing him along. “Whatever is on your mind, just say it.” You push him onto his couch and take the seat next to him, your body fully facing his, and you fold your legs beneath you.
He nods, running a hand down his face. “I don't think this is working anymore.” He whispers, eyes trained on his ceiling.
Okay you were definitely not expecting that, but instead of voicing your surprise, you squeeze his hand. Encouraging him to continue.��
He does, “I think I'm slowly falling for you, well I don't know I'm confused about my feelings.” He whispers the end and falls quiet.
As much as you want to run away and hide at his confession. He looks troubled and you wouldn't be a good friend if you just left him to wallow in his thoughts. No matter the pressure that has settled in your chest. Or the fact that your heart thinks you're running a marathon, making your ears feel like they're about to fall off too.
With every passing moment you're finding that it's getting harder to breathe. You aren't dumb, the atmosphere has also changed, but it isn't because of his confession. It's because you are also a bit confused about your feelings.
You clear your throat, “W-What are you confused about?”
He stops his staring game with the ceiling, shifting his whole body to finally face you. “Do you know why both Kook and Joon are so against us?”
The question throws you off guard but you suppose it has to do with what he's going through. You do have an idea as to why your friends are raising a brow at your relationship. Jungkook’s warning the first day you met the barista is enough for you to get a rough idea of what they mean. But you want to hear it from him.
Still you don't know if you can trust your voice so you shake your head.
He continues, “I've never been in a relationship because I don't trust people to love me the way I know I can love them. So, I just sleep around, and when I get bored I break it off.”
“I know. They warned me about you when you immediately showed interest. And trust me I knew what I signed up for when we agreed to keep seeing each other. I don't expect anything more than what we are doing.” You tilt your head to the side.
“I know that's why I'm confused. At first that's all I expected and wanted. But then I don't know I feel so full and empty when I'm with you. I don't want you to leave when the night is over. You're the last thing I think about and the first thing I want to see. I've never felt this sure and comfortable with anyone ever, and I don't know what to do because we both know this isn't forever, your forever is with someone else, and so is mine. But for now I just want to be with you and know what it's like to fall in love and with you.” He takes a deep breath. “Even if it's just for a little bit. You know that next year I'll be leaving for that design school, and I'm sorry but nothing and no one is going to stop me. I've waited too long for this opportunity. I know I'm being selfish to ask you this, but can you please find it in your heart to let me be yours until then?”
Hoseok finishes. And you're left to your own devices. To deal with your emotions as they spill out of you in hot tears. You've never had someone confess to you so passionately before. Actually nobody has ever bothered. And even though it's semi depressing you can't help but feel on cloud nine with all his words wrapping around you in the warmth that he radiates.
Without thinking you kneel, and wrap your arms around his neck. “Okay let's do it.” You beam and he matches your smile. He leans in to kiss you but you place your hand over his mouth to stop him.
Confusion plagues him like a bitter sting. You laugh, “But only if you agree that when everything is over there's no drama between us, and if I ever get married you have to design my wedding dress.” You remove your hand, and cradle his cheek, rub your thumb over his eyebrow.
He chuckles, rolling his eyes. “You will get married.”
“Nah, but it's okay. I've accepted my faith.” You shrug, resting your forehead against his. His hands come up your cheek, squishing them slightly.
“You will honey cakes, that's why I'm already planning your dress design in my head.” He wipes your forgotten tears, and tilts your head to the side.
You feel your breathing get faster, as his heart shaped lips rest centimeters apart. “How are you so sure?” You whisper, swallowing thickly at the end.
He smirks, with a glint in his eye. Like he knows something you don't, “because I know someone who is also falling for you but they’re to dumb to notice “
“Who?”
“Secret,” he says before finally crashing his lips onto yours.
Hoseok’s room is equally as loud as his living room. It’s a little more diluted with simple decorations and a huge abstract painting on the wall in front of his bed. His bed takes up most of his space, adoring a black duvet with black sheets. He has three pillows and two of those you’ve taken ownership of. His brown dresser holds little trinkets of things he buys or finds in the pockets of his pants. It’s also home to a series of designer colognes. Your favorite one was definitely Terre d'Hermes. Somehow the smell always fills with comfort.
Your favorite part of his room–other than his bed–was his desk. They say you can tell a lot about a person by just looking at their work space.
He’s a messy artist. His sketches are always thrown around, or pinned on the corkboard hanging over his desk. He has two bookshelves filled with sketchbooks and magazines. Sometimes if you’re lucky he will leave his sketchbooks open, awarding you with a small glance of his work. He has different notebooks for different magazine cutouts. Each one labeled something like, ‘street’ or ‘formal’ or ‘one-day.’ The latter always peaks your interest but you’ve never thought to ask. He has a thousand different sketching materials, and so many colorful markers. You just know that he was that kid in class with the sixty-four crayola back.
He's passionate about his craft. A passion that shines through everything that he does. Especially when he’s sharing that passion with you. Now, as he lays you down onto his soft mattress. He kisses his way down your neck, slowly pushing your shirt up to reveal your stomach and the few stretch marks that appeared one day in your early adolescent years.
For years it was hard to be intimate with someone in fear that they would disgust your partner. But the one thing you learned while growing up was that most men didn’t give a shit unless they were getting it.
Yet Hoseok, your boyfriend, now.
He cares.
In a good way. The first time he saw you naked he almost came in his jeans. Your curves were all in the right places. You have enough skin to grip onto, and he loves all the marks and imperfections your body has.
He couldn’t understand why you were so beautiful in the soft glow of his bedroom lights? Why he didn’t have the words to describe how his heart was literally beating against his ribcage? Why for the first time in his casual dating experience he feared he wouldn't be able to give you the pleasure you deserved?
So, that first night together, he took his time. Trying to get his thoughts under control. He painted your body with featherlight kisses. Determined to leave his trace imprinted in your body for however long you two would engage with each other.
Everytime you came over. He did just that. He took his time, choreographing a dance with your body. It was a no-brainer that he had fallen for you. Something he knew shouldn’t have happened. He had plans for himself. He had a future mapped out since he was teenage. Though, he had the sneaking suspicion that you wouldn’t stop him from achieving his goals. That you would support him through everything. He should’ve stopped his feelings for you from growing.
He kept them quiet until his portfolio got accepted. Until he saw the brief glances Namjoon gave you when he thought you weren’t looking. Perhaps it was the jealousy that made him confess. Or that his time with you was now limited. Whatever the reason was that led him to his confession, he only hoped that you felt the same.
You giggle, the beautiful melodic sound grounds him as he wraps a calloused hand around your right breast, circling his thumb around the pebble.
You're his girlfriend now.
He, your boyfriend and he will bring down the moon for you tonight if you asked him too.
“What’s so funny?” His curious stare meets your amused one.
You had failed to keep your giggles at bay while he made out with you on his couch. He let a few of his own out when he had had enough of kissing and grinding in his living room, and guided you into his room.
He loved the sound, and he loved that it was only because after months of dancing this tango you were still shy underneath him.
“Nothing, it’s just that Mickey is staring at us.” You whisper gasping when he grinds his lower half against yours. Hoseok playfully rolls his eyes, reaching and turning around the newly added picture of his family dog on his bedside table. No more prying dog or human eyes around to interrupt the two of you.
His attention returns to you. Gaze burning with lust as he leans down, pecking your lips lightly. “Can you stay over?” He says, kneading your breast again. The teasing touches were driving you insane. But this is how you preferred it. Slow and intense, tangling your body with his, until the two of you became one.
“I’ll make an exception if you promise to drive me to my class tomorrow with a free coffee.” You smile, pushing your chest into his hand.
He shook his head, reaching down to your lips. “Hustler.” He mumbles, capturing your mouth in a slow sensual kiss. “You got yourself a deal baby girl.”
Your body shudders at the nickname. He only used it when it was just the two of you. He knew the effect it had on you. “Can I take your shirt off now?” He smirks.
You let out a pleasurable sigh, nodding your head, before verbalizing a soft, “yes.”
He pulls away, sitting back on his heels, peeling his shirt off before helping you with yours. He discards the two of them somewhere behind him. He pulls you towards him again, resting his forehead against yours. A bright smile adorning his perfect face.
It makes your stomach crumble, knowing that from this moment on.
Hoseok would always be the one who got away.
Your big “what if.”
Your biggest treasure. Your safe place. Your blueprint for a future with someone else. The love story that was made to end. But one that burned so bright that would have you telling your future daughter to never be afraid of love.
“Can we go slow today?” You run your hands down his torso, playing with the belt buckle of his expensive belt.
“I’ll go at whatever pace you want me to go, baby girl.” He reassures, his fingers play with the bra strap that had fallen down your shoulder.
You tilt your head, looking at him with soft eyes. And he swears he feels himself melt.
The next few minutes were a mess of soft kisses and clothes being discarded. Each article of clothing, landing with a soft ‘thud’ against his bedroom floor. You’re on cloud nine, his lips kiss down your neck, your collarbone. His hands part your thighs, baring your cunt to him. He sits back, mouth watering at how wet you are. He couldn’t wait for a taste.
He could never wait. And he never did.
He kisses your mound before wrapping his lips around your clit. He savors the sigh that escapes your mouth. He smirks when he immediately feels you grip his hair, pushing him further. Just like he couldn’t resist, you also couldn’t.
He sucked, distracting you from his finger circling around your entrance making you gasp in surprise when you feel him insert one. Slowly thrusting it as he licked you like a man who has been starved for weeks.
“Hobi,” You sigh, pushing his head further. He fingers you faster until he feels you clench around him, and he stops, making you whine.
“Please,” you plead. He chuckles against you, inserting another finger. This time he doesn’t give you time to adjust. You feel him thrust into you with no hesitation. His mouth sucking on your clit, swirling his tongue around it playing with the nub.
You were withering, moaning his name, and anything your mind could conjure up in this moment.
Overwhelmed with blissful pleasure, you grip his bed sheets, bucking your hips into his face. He groans, knowing you were on edge from how tight your grip on his head was now. And he did the one thing he knew would drive you insane. He slowed down, until he came to a complete stop.
“Hoseok,” you groan, slamming your hand onto his comforter. He chuckles, lifting his head. Your body was flushed, your lips swollen, your hair splayed out around you. He loves bringing you to this moment.
“You said you wanted slow.” He grins, taking his fingers out of your pussy. Loving the way it clenched over nothing now. Almost as if it was begging to be played with again.
You roll your eyes, pouting. “Not this slow. I want to come.” You say, sitting up on your elbows.
“Oh baby you will.” He winks, licking his fingers clean. He leans over, pecking your lips quickly. “You will come as many times as you want. But I want the first one to be around my cock tonight.”
You gasp at his words. You knew his mouth was lethal but sometimes it still surprises you. The lust lacing with his soft timbre made you weak in the knees.
“Fuck,” you whisper, grabbing his face and kissing him hard.
The word ‘slow’ is forgotten from either of your vocabularies, while the two of you kiss hungrily. Sucking on tongues, teeth clashing, hands touching and clutching onto anything and everything.
Hoseok lays you down on your side, climbing in behind you. His teeth nips at your bottom lip and he wrapped your leg around his hips. He kisses down your neck, while you help guide his cock to your entrance. He locks his eyes with yours as he slowly pushes himself in. His arms wrap around your torso, and he pushes you closer to his chest.
Both of your heartbeats are in sync. Racing against the clock, basking in pleasure that you never want it to end.
“Move please.” You say, lifting your face to kiss him.
He begins to move his hips, making you gasp into each other's mouths. It’s a sloppy pace from the start but you don't care. You want more, so you met his thrusts halfway. One of his hands palms at your breast. He alternates between swallowing your moans and leaving his mark on anything he can get his lips on.
“B-Baby.” He moans, resting his forehead on yours. “I’m close, are you?” He thrusts, letting out a low moan when he feels you clench around him.
He didn’t give you a minute to answer, before he was lifting your leg higher around his waist, allowing himself to reach the deepest part of you. “Touch yourself baby.”
You moan his name, letting go of his hand, your finger meeting your clit, rubbing it in circles. Trying to keep up with his unrelenting pace. And soon you feel him still behind you, eyes shutting in pleasure as he spills himself inside of you. His orgasm triggers the coil in the pit of your stomach as you feel your release wash over you in a tidal wave, making you push his cock and cum out of you. His fingers frantically come down to meet yours as he helps you ride out your wave. He whispers praises against your skin while you come down.
Hoseok kisses your lips slowly, chuckling before whispering words that you will forever hold near and dear to your heart.
“I love you.” He pushes your hair away from your face. “I love you so much to know that one day I’ll have to let you go.”
You giggle, turning in his arms, nuzzling your head into his neck. “I love you.”
You feel him laugh, twinkling his fingers down your spine, “Let’s get matching tattoos.”
You look up at him, raising a brow before shaking your head. “You just made me squirt, told me you loved me, and now you want to get matching tattoos?”
“What better way to commemorate the best ego boost.” He shrugs.
“You’re insane.” You untangle yourself from his embrace. You stand up, putting on his shirt.
“I didn’t hear a no.” He says smugly, putting his arms underneath his head.
“Because you’re an insane idiot who makes me agree to things like these.” You smile, before walking out of his room.
“Great, I’ll make an appointment.” He shouts after you, “I love you.” He adds after a moment.
You enter his kitchen, and turn on the lights. You can feel your smile take up your entire face. For a moment you realize that for the first time in a long time you felt happy.
So yeah, maybe, things were finally looking up.
“You’re late.”
Namjoon says after taking a slow sip from his coffee. He looks at you from over the rim of his glasses.
You roll your eyes, setting your bag down on the empty chair. “It's raining, and I forgot my umbrella. I had to wait for the rain to stop.”
“You could’ve texted to let me know.” He shrugs, setting his cup down on the coaster and flipping the page of his book.
You sigh, before (gently) throwing your phone onto the table. “It’s dead. And before you ask, no I didn’t bring a charger. No, Jungkook wasn’t in class today so he couldn’t give me a charger, an umbrella, or a ride. Jimin is sick. And Taehyung doesn’t even go to our school. He's probably getting high with his new fling, so I wouldn’t have been able to ask him either.” You say, listing all the solutions he would’ve thought about in seconds.
“Mhm,” he nods, closing his book. “And your boyfriend?”
Annoyed, you let out a whine, crossing your arms in front of you. “I don’t know, let me go downstairs and ask him. I’m sure he can stop managing a business to give me an umbrella.”
Namjoon leans his elbows against the table. “Trouble in paradise?” He tilts his head, clasping his hands on top of his book.
You shake your head, pulling out your chair and slumping down in it. “Hobi and I are fine. It’s not like he’s leaving in two months or anything.” You throw your hands up in exasperation.
It’s month seven into your shining relationship with Hoseok, and you should’ve known that things would start to hit the fan sooner rather than Later. Your boyfriend was in the middle of the most tumultuous change of his life. Things were moving quickly and his time dedicated to you was bumped down his monstrous daily to-do list.
Yet you couldn’t do or say anything because isn’t this what you signed up for?
“Ah, so there is trouble.” Namjoon chuckles before opening his book again, setting his fancy leather bookmark aside. “This is exactly why I don’t do relationships, they just attract problems.” He adds, giving you a pointed look.
You roll your eyes, “Shut up asshole, not all of us can be like you and Rina.”
“Sure you can, it's simple just don't attach any strings to it.” He shrugs, underlining a sentence in his book.
“Two people who have been only exclusively seeing each other for years literally the definition of strings attached. You can keep denying it all you want but she’s your girlfriend. You guys do all the couple-y stuff.” You grumble, leaning back in your chair, looking out of the window. The gloomy weather adds to your shitty mood.
“She’s not, we are not dating, and I don’t need to talk about this with you again. Rina and I are on the same page.” He finishes, taking a long sip from his coffee.
“Well, how would you feel if Rina was spending time with another guy, completely ignoring your presence when you walk into her coffee shop all wet and angry because your professor basically told you your topic for your essay was shit.”
Namjoon smirks, leaning back in his chair. “Sounds like you’re jealous of Yuri.”
“So what if I am?” You bite, “I understand that he’s training her to take over his position, but all he talks about is her and what he needs to teach her when we’re together. And whenever I come in they’re always laughing at something behind the coffee machine. And I know she’s nice and all but I would like his attention too.” You scoff.
Namjoon hums, tapping his index finger against the table. “Do you trust him?”
The question doesn’t catch you off guard, the obvious answer is on the tip of your tongue. But with how things have been going lately. You can’t help but hesitate.
“I don’t know anymore.” You whisper looking down at your hands, turning the ring on your middle finger. “I know I should, and I do…I think I do. It’s just things have been so shit lately and I feel like a burden to him because of everything he has to do.”
Namjoon lightly kicks your foot under the table, making you raise your head to meet his gaze. “I don’t know if I am being of much help, but he loves you. I know that whatever is happening he’s not doing it intentionally. Just talk to him about it.”
If only it were that easy.
“I’d love to but he never has time.”
“Why not talk to him now then.” He says reaching into his bag to take out his cigarettes and lighter.
“He’s busy downstairs with Yu–”
“No, I’m not busy now.”
You jump at the sound of your boyfriend's voice. You turn your head to look at him. A small tray with a mug of probably chamomile tea on top of it. His hair is shorter than the last time you saw him two days ago. He got a haircut and didn’t even tell you about it. That’s how low you have made it on his list. He can’t even send you a stupid picture of his new haircut. He can’t even send you a ‘goodmorning’ or ‘goodnight’ text. He also probably forgot that you were nervous for the meeting with your professor about your essay topic.
All these realizations make you want to roll into a ball and cry. You knew your time with Hoseok was limited. You just didn’t expect for the end to be so torturous.
“That’s what I told her.” Namjoon speaks, narrowing his eyes at you for a second before turning his attention to his best friend. “She’s jealous of Yuri, because you’ve been spending too much time with her.” He shrugs, walking quickly to the stairs before you can bury him ten feet underground.
You hear Hoseok let out a heavy sigh, and take the seat next to you. “Honeycakes,” he starts.
“Nice haircut.” You interrupt, slumping into your chair more. It earns another heavy sigh from the man sitting next to you.
“Is Yuri the reason why you’ve been so upset lately?” He says placing a hand on top of your knee underneath the table.
You let out a dry laugh before shaking your head. “No, it’s not her. It’s how you’ve been acting lately, it’s the time you’ve been spending with her. It's never having time for me anymore. It’s forgetting our date last week. It’s not even telling me that you got a haircut.” You finish, closing your fists to keep yourself from crying.
Hoseok gives your thigh a squeeze before leaning back in his chair. “You know how things have been lately. I’m trying so hard to do everything I need to do. I don’t mean to be so dismissive but I can’t juggle everything at the same time.”
You flick off a piece of lint from your jeans. “It’s nice to know that I’m just something you juggle around.”
“That’s not what I meant. You knew what would happen when I started my application process. You said you understood.”
“I did, or I thought I did Hoseok. I didn’t think I would become so secondary to you.” You sniffle. “I love that you’re chasing your dreams, but this is me trying to support you. I’m trying to understand how you’re feeling. But you stop me. You have shut me out and now I’m just something you remember sometimes.” You close your eyes, feeling the tears fall down your cheeks.
The last thing you wanted was to be crying like this in public.
“I-I want you to tell me when you’re having a hard time like you used to. I want you to feel like you can relax around me when we’re together. But every time we are together, we either argue, you don’t talk, or you talk about work, deadlines, or how you can’t wait to move. How do you think that makes me feel Hoseok?”
Hoseok sighs, and wraps his arm around your shoulders. “I’m sorry.” He kisses your temple. “I wish you would’ve told me earlier before it got to this point.” He whispers, rubbing your back, while you lean your head onto his shoulder.
“But Hobi like you said, this is what I signed up for. This is what I agreed to.” You add bitterly.
“Yes Honeycakes, but you’re still my girlfriend. And I know that I haven’t been the best boyfriend lately, but I do care about you and I do love you.” He lifts your head from his shoulder. He gently grabs hold of your face, making you look at him. “Just like how you want me to talk to you when something is bothering me, I also want you to talk to me.”
You close your head sighing, “You’re right, I’m sorry that I keep making things difficult.”
He shakes his head. “You don’t. I’m the one that can’t seem to keep my girlfriend from doubting me. I’m the one who hasn’t told her how much I yearn to be in her presence at every waking moment.” He says, his thumbs wiping away your tears. “I love you, and I think that’s why I’ve been so avoidant lately. I know that our days are numbered and I would rather ignore the fact that I’m moving away soon than cherish the moments I get to spend with my family, my friends and you.”
You nod, holding out your pinky out to him. “I promise to keep trying my best.”
He hooks his pinky with yours bringing your laced fingers up to his lips. “I promise to keep trying my best too.”
“I love you,” You whisper, letting go of his finger and wrapping your arms around his waist.
His low laugh makes his chest vibrate against your head, “I love you.” He adds, rubbing soothing circles over your back. “Now, can you please drink your tea before you get a cold. I texted you earlier asking if you needed an umbrella but you didn’t answer. And now look at you coming in here all pouty and wet.”
You raise your head to look at him, opening your mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by the forgotten voice of your friend. “Her phone’s dead.” Namjoon throws his lighter onto the wooden table.
Hoseok tsks shaking his head, reaching over to push the tray of your lukewarm tea closer to you. “I should’ve known. I knew you didn’t charge it last night, just like I knew that you left your umbrella at my place.” He pinches your cheek. “How did your meeting go?”
“He basically said that I need to restart my essay topic over again.”
Hoseok laughs, bopping your nose with his own. “Well did he say those exact words?”
“No but it was basically implied.” You emphasize.
“Fine, I’ll talk to your study partner if my baby isn’t being told that she’s a genius all the time, then what am I paying him for.” He jokes, which earns a glare from said study partner.
“You’re not paying me, idiot.” Namjoon rolls his eyes, grabbing his brown leather messenger back and stuffing his cigarettes into the front pocket.
He’s grateful that he came back to smiles and not tears. The stoicness of his actions makes the two of you laugh hard. Your laugh resonates longer in his mind. It always does. No matter how much he tries to deny it. You always resonate longer in his mind. But he pushes that fleeting thought aside.
Namjoon is happy.
His friends are happy.
Things in his life were finally looking up.
“I have to go, but don’t be late next time and charge your phone.” He says hoisting his bag onto his shoulders.
You nod, saluting in his direction, before bursting out into a fit of giggles as Hoseok tickles your side.
Namjoon doesn’t stay for longer than he needs to. He’s already running late to meet Rina, but he can’t hide the smile taking up his space.
He can’t help but feel proud that things were finally looking up for you too.
a/n: I hope you have enjoyed it. I will try not to be so MIA and upload a little more frequently rather than every 6 months haha. But my life has been pretty busy lately. In the past few months. I have moved to a different part of Seoul and I got a new job. I basically just hang out with my friends when I have free time haha. I also do dance class 3 times a week, and I started personal training last week. But I will try to manage my time better because I do miss writing and this story!
#kdiarynet#bts fanfiction#bts imagines#bts smut#bts fics#bts scenarios#bts army#bts jhope#bts namjoon#bts angst#bts fluff#jhope smut#Namjoon x reader#jhope x reader#Namjoon fluff#Namjoon smut#Namjoon angst#hope angst#Namjoon fanfiction#Namjoon imagines#Namjoon fic#Kim namjoon#jung hoseok#Namjoon bts#j hope bts
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I have something that has been banging around in my head related to Crowley’s apparent loss of memory. This is probably not original but I haven’t seen it articulated quite this way so I’m just going to write it out. Crowley has a few interactions with Gabriel where he is trying to remember things that Heaven “erased”. On one occasion Gabriel says - “I can’t” and Crowley says “Yes you can” with certainty. Another time, Gabriel says “It hurts” and Crowley says, “I know, do it anyway.” I have THINGS TO SAY about this below the cut.
I think we can take it as given that Crowley has had his memory erased by Heaven, as evidenced by him not remembering Furfur or Saraqael or why they decided to have gravity. If it was one thing, I would buy it as a throwaway but the lack of memory is so specifically and repeatedly called out that I don’t think we can take it as a coincidence.
It’s equally clear to me that he hasn’t forgotten EVERYTHING about his time as an angel. He remembers that he worked on a specific nebula in S1, he remembers going into battle, he knows that if he gets into Heaven he’ll be able to access top secret files. And you cannot convince me that he doesn’t remember Aziraphale in Eden. Aziraphale doesn’t know his *demon* name, so Crowley introduces himself, but Aziraphale never does the same because Crowley already knows who he is.
SO I have made the mental leap to conclude the following - Crowley had his memory wiped by Heaven when he fell, he remembered nothing just like Gabriel, and he FORCED himself to remember some parts of his time in Heaven. Meaning, he tried hard to remember, it *hurt* and he *did it anyway*. I like to imagine that he did so because he wanted to know who he was (which of course is reason enough) but also because he wanted very much to remember a friendship with a certain Principality.
When Gabriel had his memory wiped, he still knew he needed to get to Beelzebub. I believe that when Crowley had his memory wiped, he still knew he needed to get to Aziraphale. So he went through a lot of pain to claw back some of his memory. He didn’t get everything back, but he got something. We know Heaven didn’t wipe the memories of all the Fallen, so Crowley’s memory was probably erased (or I would argue ‘suppressed’ is more accurate because the memory is still there, he just can’t access it readily) because he was high ranking, but also because he *knew or saw something specific and significant*.
Upshot is, I now desperately need a fic that features Crowley fighting to remember himself. Does this exist?? Do I need to write it?? Anybody else have this train of thought?
#good omens#crowley#aziraphale#aziracrow#anthony j crowley#good omens 2#good omens fanfiction#angel crowley
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so. this scene has been talked about a lot:
I think this scene is a really interesting example of the criminal minds writers giving tiny pieces of character backstories that are never elaborated upon, (or, more broadly, forgetting early established character details) because unlike a lot of examples where lines are said and immediately forgotten about, I do think this revelation informs a lot of Hotch's character. I'm not necessarily saying that the writers always had it in mind when writing Hotch that he experienced childhood abuse, but I do feel like you can see the ways in which he was affected. I don't know—this made more sense in my head, but it feels a little less forgotten about and a little less thrown in than some other examples. I think a big difference between this scene and some later ones is that:
The trauma happened pre-series
and
It was established in the first season.
criminal minds isn't great at letting their characters be affected by their in-series trauma for more than a few episodes (and then maybe it'll come up once or twice down the line because the writers remembered it happened) and a lot of later instances* of characters being revealed to have some major pre-series trauma suffer because the impact it would have reasonably had on them isn't consistent with earlier portrayals and sometimes even contradicts established information.
not that it can't be interesting to look at those earlier portrayals of their characters with the backstory that is added later. again, this all made more sense in my head: essentially, the reason i think this feels different to me is that the writers knew when they started writing hotch that he was abused as a child, while other characters who have traumatic backstories revealed have those backstories added much later, and so the writers have a not-great choice between showing the effects their trauma had on them when there was no sign of it earlier, or moving on with their character as if none of it ever happened.
*i'd like to quickly establish that i'm not talking about morgan here. that was also a pretty early reveal and feels consistent enough with early characterization that i wouldn't be shocked if the idea was first floated while season one was being written
#as for how i think hotch's childhood abuse actually affected him#that would require a longer post and for me to watch more episodes so i have more evidence#but the very simple one sentence version is that i think hotch fears becoming his father#was it his biodad or stepdad? i dont remember. he had both right?#either way. if criminal minds writers were like#hey nineteen year-old canadian#for some reason we want you to cast hotch's father for a flashback#i would want the actor to look as much like thomas gibson as possible to really drive that point home#even if it WAS his stepdad#and if it was his stepdad it could fuck people up even more because instead of being told he looks like either of his biological parents#he'd constantly be told how much he looks like his unrelated abuser#man im sorry im just rambling in the tags ill shut up now#criminal minds#criminal minds rewatch#criminal minds s01e08#natural born killer#aaron hotchner#not fic
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my old/beautiful book collection
the pretty books shelves
my Tolkien collection
vintage fiction
antique and vintage Bible study books
I have very few truly old books, but more than I remembered are from the early 20th century. List of titles and more details under the cut
pretty books shelves
Reader’s Digest editions: Little Women (Alcott), Tales from the Arabian Nights, Emma & Pride and Prejudice (Austen), Jane Eyre (Brontë), The Last of the Mohicans (Cooper), The Adventures of Robin Hood (Creswick), Two Years Before the Mast (Dana), David Copperfield, Oliver Twist & A Tale of Two Cities (Dickens), The Robe (Douglas), The Adventures, The Further Adventures, The Memoirs, & The Return of Sherlock Holmes (Doyle), A Passage to India (Forster), The House of the Seven Gables, The Scarlet Letter & Twice-Told Tales (Hawthorne), Kim (Kipling), The Sea Wolf (London), The Song of Hiawatha and other poems (Longfellow), Anne of Green Gables (Montgomery), A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Smith), Kidnapped (Stevenson), Uncle Tom’s Cabin (Stowe), A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court & Innocents Abroad (Twain), A Journey to the Centre of the Earth & Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea (Verne)
The Confessions of Saint Augustine—E. B. Pusey translation, Franklin Library edition. This was a Christmas gift from my parents and @bluesidedown has the same one
The Pilgrim’s Progress (Bunyan)—CBN University Press Christian Classics. I don’t actually remember where I got this one but most likely from my dad.
Through the Looking Glass (Carroll)—Heritage Press edition with slipcover and illustrations by John Tenniel. Again, probably from my dad but not 100% sure (he gives me a LOT of books).
The Complete Canterbury Tales (Chaucer)—F. H. Hill translation, Arcturus books with slipcover and illustrations by Edward Burne-Jones and William Morris. Another Christmas gift where Blue and I got matching copies from our parents.
Heretics & Orthodoxy (Chesterton)—Hendrickson Christian Classics. Again, a Christmas gift from my parents.
Nemesis & The Mirror Crack’d From Side to Side (Christie)—Heron Books. Another one I can’t remember the origin of.
The Prairie (Cooper)—Easton Press collector’s edition. From my parents, Christmas this year. This is pretty much the handsomest book I own.
Great Expectations (Dickens)—Chatham River Press. Based on the inscription on the flyleaf this belonged to my dad first. Probably I got it as a gift or in his thinning of his collection.
The Scarlet Pimpernel (Orczy)—International Collector’s Library. Another of unknown origin.
Quo Vadis (Sienkiewicz)—International Collector’s Library. It amuses me that in organizing these books alphabetical by author’s last name, these two matching editions still ended up side by side.
Treasure Island (Stevenson)—Children’s Classics, illustrated by Milo Winter.
Treasure Island–Prince Otto–Strange Case of Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde–Kidnapped–The Black Arrow–The Master of Ballantrae–David Balfour (Stevenson)—Canterbury Classics omnibus. I actually have most of these in other editions, but I keep this for the ones I don’t have elsewhere.....and keep the other editions too because I am a book-dragon.
The Prince and the Pauper (Twain)—Portland House Illustrated Classics, illustrated by Franklin Booth. Not sure where I got this one.
The Greek Myths (Graves)—Folio Society, two volumes in slipcover. These were a Christmas gift from my parents a couple years ago, because I collect fairy tales and folk tales and suchlike.
Tolkien
These are mostly newer Houghton Mifflin or HarperCollins editions. The Silmarillion has Ted Naismith illustrations; Children of Húrin has Alan Lee illustrations, as do the covers of LotR; The Hobbit and LotR have Tolkien’s original illustrations and maps, and Roverandom has cover art by him as well; and Bilbo’s Last Song, Farmer Giles of Ham, The Adventures of Tom Bombadill, and Smith of Wooton Major are all illustrated by Pauline Baynes.
vintage fiction (top down, left column first)
Malory’s Le Morte d’Arthur—Norwood Press, 1911
Stalky & Co. (Kipling)—Macmillan and Co, 1927. Completely leatherbound with gilt spine and seal on the front cover
The Master of Ballantrae & The Black Arrow (Stevenson)—Everyman’s Library, 1938
Popular Fairy Tales (Andersen)—Blackie and Son. No date, but google tells me it’s from sometime in the 30s/40s/50s based on the binding style
Jo’s Boys (Alcott)—The Children’s Press, 1965
Around the World in Eighty Days (Verne)—Dean and Son. No date, but I’m guessing mid-twentieth century
Three Cheers Secret Seven (Blyton)—Brockhampton Press, 1960
The Burgess Animal Book for Children—Little, Brown, and Company. Copyright 1948, though likely printed later
At the Back of the North Wind (MacDonald), The Little Lame Prince (Mulock), King Arthur and his Knights (Frith), All the Mowgli Stories (Kipling)—Junior Deluxe Edtions. Illustrations are copyright 1956, no print dates
The Door in the Wall (de Angeli)—Doubleday. Copyright 1949, no print date
Freckles (Porter)—Grosset & Dunlap, 1916. Very beat up and mostly held together by packing tape on the spine
The Call of the Wild (London)—Grosset & Dunlap, 1910. It has a very faded picture glued to the front cover as part of the original binding, as well as illustrations throughout. Quite worn, with many pages about to or falling out
Kilmeny of the Orchard (Montgomery)—Ryerson, 1947. This was actually printed before the Anne series was entirely published, as the list of Montgomery’s works in the front only includes the first three books in the series
Captains Courageous (Kipling)—Thrushwood Books. Date uncertain, but google tells me probably 1950s
Heidi (Spyri)—Collins, 1958. While this did originally belong to my dad, it’s the copy I read as a kid and has been on my shelf for a long time
The Mark of the Horse Lord (Sutcliff)—Oxford University Press, 1965. I learned in making this list that my copy is probably a first edition, albeit rather beat up from being a school library copy.
Warrior Scarlet (Sutcliff)—Oxford University Press, 1966. I also have a 1973 copy that still has its dust jacket.
Robinson Crusoe (Defoe)—Dent/Dutton, 1966. A beloved favourite copy that I read many times
Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea (Verne)—Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1953. Another beloved copy that I read many times, I flatly refuse to part with this one despite having a less faded and beat-up edition because 1) I am dreadfully sentimental and 2) the illustrations in this edition are much better than in the RD edition.
King Arthur and His Knights of the Round Table (Lanier)—Illustrated Junior LIbrary. Illustrations copyright 1950, no print date
antique and vintage Bible study books
Young’s Analytical Concordance—per a pencil note on the title page this was published circa. 1937, and it definitely looks the part
The Bible as History in Pictures (Keller)—Published in 1964, this is definitely outdated in terms of archaeological evidence of Bible events but it still fascinates me to see
The New English Bible: New Testament—as a Library Edition, I don’t think this strictly counts as a first edition, but it is definitely an early edition as it was printed in 1961 when the NT translation was completed (OT translation of this version wasn’t completed until 1970)
Exposition of Genesis (Leupold)—Wartburg Press, 1942
The Epistle to the Hebrews (Brown)—Banner of Truth, 1961
Luke the Physician (Ramsay)—Baker Book House, 1956
The Gospel in Ezekiel (Guthrie)—Adam and Charles Black, 1857 (or MDCCCLVII if you prefer). This is the oldest book I own, and while is is now quite beat up - the spine is 80% tape and the front cover has come off completely and been replaced with cardboard - I can tell it was a very handsome book when it was new. The spine is bound in dark blue and brown leather, with gilt lettering and decoration, and the edges of the pages have beautiful multicolour marbling on them.
#ooops this is veeeery long#in my defence i have rather a lot of books#so even the fraction that are old/beautiful is quite a few#to quote leah: hope this is enjoyable to others and not just wildly self-indulgent#i had fun and learned a few things about the books i own#and remembered a few i had forgotten i have#about
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Hmm brain just conjured up another fictional little guy; at this rate, I am eventually going to run out of room to accommodate all of these fictional little guys, they will have to find a motel or something
#writing#writeblr#writer things#his name is tommy because that is the first name that came to my head#dark curly hair tanned skin hooked nose and dimples and dark eyes#an easygoingness and just genuine passion about him that's contagious#he may be a mechanic and wears loose oversize clothing a too long red button up with the sleeves rolled up#he smokes more out of habit and boredom than wanting to do it he hates it#he's got that classic awkward nerdy but strangely appealing best friend in a movie or show kind of vibe to him#except instead of being in that standard best friend role he is currently trying to usurp the role of love interest in my mind in the vague#new wip i had been thinking about making#though maybe i should make a new wip as this other wip is already new and has different vibes but...#i have made three new wips in the span of the last few days i am not making another i am not i am not#shoe meet horn#he's also mentally ill and the narrative is going to be f*cking normal about it#alright maybe i'll make a new wip#god am i going to make a new wip#my other brand new characters staring at me as i barely even got them off the ground yet like really come on dude#but don't worry oh god I remembered a 4th wip from the past two weeks don't worry bennett i haven't forgotten you#and the several hundred others up there#hmmm thinking about tossing him into a scifi#yes he looks suspiciously similar to some of my other ocs but different maybe i'm pulling a t*m b*rton#and hiring the same actor for all my movies
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After the transformation (death) of a friend, Shadowheart and Karlach go on a journey to take their effects home.
--
They’re not dead, just gone.
They’re not dead, just gone.
(She tries to think about Omeluum. She tries not to think about how Omeluum is not the name of its old host.)
It’s easiest to pray to Selûne on their behalf. When it’s not about them, she never knows what to say.
#my first published fic in three calendar years good god#i have a bunch of notes about this in the actual fic and in my docs. ask me about how this au works and i will cry with joy#my writing#baldur's gate 3#bg3#bg3 fic#shadowheart#karlach#tav#shadowlach#it's been so long since i had to tag posts abt fic... ough#basically i created an underdark cult of selune in my head to justify the tav i'm currently using#and the implications of that for the entire campaign and especially for shadowheart. i have not been able to stop thinking about#my fic#i intend to get more into the respective writing heads of shadowheart and karlach each chapter sort of alternating i think#was rereading my beaujes stuff and remembered how much i liked writing in each of their voices. with a little practice i think i can here#also. playing bg3 and having specific thoughts and complaints based on how the game addresses certain parts of forgotten realms lore#has made me realized just how much i have learned and changed these past few years of dming and gming#it's so weird to be on this side of writing fic about a story. where i know so much more of it than is contained in the story itself
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Katy Manning, in her second screen role (see her first here), as Julia Dungarvon - full-time typist, part-time coffee shop waitress, and member of more than one love triangle - in Man at the Top: The Prime of Life (1.4, Thames, 1971)
#fave spotting#katy manning#man at the top#doctor who#jo grant#classic doctor who#1971#classic tv#thames#kenneth haigh#mark mcmanus#keith skinner#i recently picked up s2 of Man at the Top after several years of looking; i got the first series and then network promptly deleted both#individual releases in favour of a complete set and as i wasn't in LOVE with the series i refused to double dip... patience finally#(finally!!) paid off. but it had been so long since i watched s1 that i legit just didn't remember it and thought i should rewatch before#starting series 2. two things came back to me on revisiting: Joe Lampton is a serious contender for old tv's Biggest Bastard and also the#scripts are really actually very very strong (particularly the first few‚ written by novelist John Braine who was the character's original#creator way back when Room at the Top was published in 1957). anyway. one thing i hadn't remembered... and SPOILERS INCOMING FOR S1 OF THIS#OLD SERIES NOBODY WILL BE THAT INTERESTED IN EXCEPT ONE MUTUAL I KNOW HAS SEEN S2.. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED#while i remembered Katy turned up (in 2 eps iirc) i had completely forgotten the absolute ick of a storyline she has. she's Joe Lampton's#15yr old son's 18yr old girlfriend... who Joe then starts sleeping with. blergh. like i said Joe is a piece of work and honestly pretty#unredeemable at times (this a prime example). it's all pretty gross but Katy does well and has a much meatier role than in the Softly#Softly: Task Force she'd done the year before. she was about 25 but convinces as an 18yr old (just as Skinner convinces as a 15yr old but#he too was in his 20s im relieved to say; there's some heavy macking that made me squirm when i knew Katy was 25 and thought he was 15)#shudder. anyway. despite everything I've said this series is better than i remembered‚ mostly bc of those pin sharp scripts that belong to#the power game and the brothers world of big business bitching mixed with familial melodrama. just.. try to be a little less creepy joe.#or a lot less‚ ideally
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There was a three second span today where I forgot Arizona exists so that's where I'm at mentally right now.
#i've had two friends who lived in arizona#and the writer of my favorite webcomic lives there as well#basically what happened was i was trying to remember usa state capitals#i used to have them all memorized but it's been a while since i've tried to recall them and upsettingly i seem to have forgotten a few#the states were listed in a random order and arizona was like two thirds of the way down the list#and when i got to it i just stared uncomprehendingly for a solid three seconds wondering how that had gotten onto the list#(the capital of arizona is phoenix by the way which is one of the ones i can usually remember just fine)
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did I just trigger a repressed memory of remembering a repressed memory???
#Girlypop WHAT#rue rants#I remember recently being so sure that something happened before these past few months that I had forgotten about.#I remember even when I did know it it was foggy#But I don’t remember what it was now#I mean I know the general idea but that’s it#The only thing I have is the color tan and a principals office#And I’m not sure this even happened. Could’ve been a dream#I’ve been getting those lately#But. I don’t know. I was so sure#vent
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