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sukirichi · 3 years

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dutifully yours. [01]

Attached to the could’ve been’s of a promised happily ever after with the Crown Prince disguised under a scheme for power and greed, you are torn between choosing your happiness — or abandoning it to fulfill your duty as the future Queen.

→ unedited bcos i’m brave lazy. implied patriarchy. angst in future chapters. pure romance and fluff for now. royalty au. eventual smut. prince naoya !! i love him sm i could cry. this fic will break me, okay. naoya is close to canon but with my twist if that makes sense. drama in future chapters. oh and listen to this while reading <3

→ massive shoutout to my besties for always hyping me and helping me uwu, i present this token of prince naoya being an ideal husband okay cry cry i love him sm im crying. anyways pls enjoy bcos i poured my heart out to this and bcos i want more people in the naoya fucker club :>

one | next (to be posted)

Ever since the day your mother taught you how to read, you’ve had your nose buried in a book. Losing yourself in different worlds, swooning over fictional princes, and fantasizing for a love story ripped out of fairytale itself with such burning, passionate romance – you’d been through it all, dreamt of it all. And yet, you struggled to stop yourself from tugging at your dress.

The tight corset hadn’t even been the main focus of your worries, and neither was the heavy rivière resting on your collarbones.

“Would you stop fidgeting?” Beside you, your mother pursed her lips, fingers decorated with jewels stopping in their movements of fanning herself. The temperature hadn’t been particularly high inside the limousine that evening. You supposed it was the mere sight of you tugging and gulping audibly every now and then, gloved hands running over the hems of your collar.

You ducked your head down. “Sorry, Mother. I can’t help it.”

“Dear, your anxiety is written all over your face,” she sighed, turning your face to her as she cupped your cheeks. Smiling tenderly like a mother always did, your heart felt soothed even by the slightest bit. You wished she could keep holding you like this – like you were a fragile flower she was afraid of breaking; a fragile flower that needed more care handled than most. Tonight, however, you felt a hundred years older. Like you’d accidentally clicked on fast forward and got launched to the future. A future that seemed so unclear yet so...perfect. So right.

“How would the Prince fancy you if you’re sweating bullets like that? It’s not a good look for a marquess’ daughter.”

At the mention of the Crown Prince, your heart sank again. “My apologies, Mother. I’m just rather nervous. It’s the Crown Prince we’re talking about here.”

“He is quite the looker, isn’t he?” she giggled behind her fan, “Strong and handsome, as well.”

“My ladies. You are not fantasizing over the Crown Prince in my presence, are you?”

Crossing her leg over the other, your mother leaned forwards, elbows on her knees as she winked at your father. The marquess had his torso half twisted from the passenger seat, glaring playfully at your mother’s unabashed features. “It is of no seriousness, My Lord. I’m simply easing your daughter’s nerves.”

Your father sighed in worry. “What’s got you so worked up, child? You are beautiful. The Prince would be blind to not notice you.”

Each fibre in your body screamed in desperation for your father to be right. Tonight was not just any other night – the entire Kingdom, including noblewomen, foreign royals, and unwed daughters from honourable families had been invited to the Zen’in Castle for one purpose only: to find his Crown Prince a suitable wife, one that would be fit to be the next Queen as well. As the daughter of the marquess, you’d naturally received the invitation. It felt just like yesterday when the mail arrived and you’d cheered so much in joy the chickens went flying out of their coops, your horses galloping and whinnying at surprise, and now you here – minutes away from the palace where you were soon to be deemed worthy or unworthy to be beside His Highness.

With a shaky smile, you dug your nails into your thighs. “Well, we’ve only met once, Father. I doubt the Prince would remember me.”

“Just smile, darling. You will do great.”

To no one’s surprise, the Zen’in Castle brimmed with people and esteemed guests. Men and women danced with one another as muted chatters and chuckles blended in with the grand royal orchestra, everyone dressed to the nines and making you feel completely out of place.

The moment you’d been welcomed by the knights and led to the palace doors, your dress began to feel tighter than usual, your ribs clenching uncomfortably from the pressure. Your hands had not stopped trembling either, not even when you hid it behind your back and nodded at the people passing by. There were governor-generals, dukes, earls, professors and royal advisors and even families of the royal family’s inner circle of knights. Everyone looked like they belonged here. Chatting amongst one another over the finest of wines or discussing conspiracies on where the Kingdom of Zen’in would be in the next sixty years of the future King’s reign, no one here seemed to be out of place.

Everyone except you.

A warm hand was suddenly placed on the small of your back, making you gasp. Your mother’s smile was nothing short of warm as she held you close to her one last time, leaving a kiss on your forehead. You didn’t even realize how much you shook until she clasped her hands with yours. “Calm down, dear,” she reminded, “You’ll be on your own now. This is where we leave you since we’re not supposed to mingle with potential princesses.”

“Mother!” Your eyes widened in embarrassment. Looking around frantically, you bit your lip in fear someone must’ve heard.

Of course, while it would be no surprise most guests – if not all – hoped that their daughter would be the Crown Prince’s chosen fiancée, it still felt wrong to boldly assume such when you could barely keep up with the events of tonight.

However, your mother merely laughed. “I am proud of you, dear. Never forget that. It doesn’t matter whether you are chosen or not. We’re only here for formality and respect to the King and Queen’s demands.”

“You say that as if the Crown Prince really would not bother with me.”

“We didn’t mean that,” your father cut in, a flute of champagne already nested between his calloused fingers. Ever since you arrived, he’d been snatched away by fellow earls and barons, disappearing into the crowd for a ‘hearty conversation over one’s lands.’ You knew better than that, though. That statement always translated to which leader got to have more chances to wine and dine with the King, to which your family was ridiculously reminded of that you’d been stationed to the most faraway land where even hearing news from the royal papers was but a privilege.

“Just be yourself, alright? And enjoy the party. It’s about time you met with girls your own age and made some friends.”

“I – Father, wait!”

A slender young woman slithered to your side out of nowhere, her golden brown eyes following the silhouettes of your parents. It wasn’t long before they completely disappeared. Left alone with the stunning woman that was – for some reason – dressed in a plain black curve hugging dress too modest for tonight’s appropriateness, you took three steps away in caution. “You must be from way up North,” she noted, her head to the tipped to the side. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

God, was she beautiful. Long, thick eyelashes and short hair chopped in messy yet elegant curves, you struggled to hold her gaze. “Oh, yes, I come from the Terratian Borders. My family is stationed there under His Majesty’s orders.”

She hummed to herself. “The Terratian Borders are mostly forests and fields, no? The last time my family and I visited there, I came across the loveliest dandelions I’ve ever laid eyes on. Shame they died on the way back,” offering her hand – again, bare and empty with decorations yet still littered with faint scars and cuts – she beamed at you. “I’m Mai, by the way. Mai Zen’in.”

Zen’in?

Hands cupping your mouth, you bowed deep until your back ached. “Lady Mai!” you shut your eyes closed, unable to live with the shame. Mai Zen’in; one of the iconic twin pair from the extended Zen’in royal family, both a fashion icon and a legend for being a rumoured female knight. To have her in your presence was an honour. “My apologies for not recognizing you any sooner, Lady Mai!”

“Stand up, I’m not a royal,” she sniggered, “We’re just relatives of the actual monarch, but don’t let the family name fool you. The Crown Prince barely even acknowledges us being of the same blood.”

Albeit hesitant, you followed her gestures of making you stand up. You straightened your back and cleared your throat, fighting the urge to go haywire the moment his name was brought into the conversation. Not only would you be seeing Prince Naoya again in real life for the first time in years, but you’d also made acquaintances with his distant niece. However, his name was spoken with malice.

Frowning, you faced Lady Mai in all seriousness. “Prince Naoya? Why so?” Lady Mai looked at you like you’d grown two heads.

“He’s an ass, that’s why.”

“I-I don’t think he is,” you defended, “The Prince has been nothing but kind to me.”

“I didn’t know he was capable of kindness,” she muttered more so under her breath, low enough you were unsure whether you were supposed to hear it in the first place. Lady Mai then shook her head to herself before stealing a flute from a waiter passing by. Chucking it your way, her face turned dark and grim. “Take it as free advice: stay as far away from his as possible. The Crown Prince is nothing but good news.”

“Is it because he has lots of lovers?” you inquired with a small voice, “Uhm – well – It was an assumption. With a title and handsomeness like that, it would make sense everyone would want to be the Crown Prince’s lover.”

Lady Mai’s lip curled upwards. “Prince Naoya won’t bother with lovers. He is too occupied for that.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Heard from whom?”

“The Royal Declaration from His Majesty himself,” you said, “Was it not the purpose of this ball? To find worthy candidates to be the Crown Prince’s betrothed? His coronation is coming soon.”

“Right. I forgot today was technically a bridal market,” she scratched the edge of her brow, falling silent for a moment. Her eyes scanned the lively crowd for a brief moment – watching with you as everyone laughed and danced to their heart’s content – the grand final event of the routine personal dance with the Crown Prince himself slowly approaching to reality. “You are joining in the festivities, are you not? Later, when he arrives, he shall meet you.”

“I am obligated to as a noble bachelorette, though I doubt His Highness would even look my way. There are far richer noblewomen here and even daughters of duke that would be perfect as his wife. ”

“You may have a point for that,” she hummed to herself, unaware that her agreement to the Crown Prince not paying attention to you left a sting both in your ego and heart. Not that it lasted long, for Lady Mai was already tugged on the arm by another equally fiercely beautiful woman – her older twin, Maki Zen’in. Soon to be governon-general of the Kingdom.

Lady Mai smiled in apology. “I need to go now since I’m not a part of this event. But hey, if ever I come around to visit the Borders again, perhaps you could entertain me?”

“I would be honoured to, Lady Mai.”

“You are sweet and innocent,” it was her sister who spoke this time, glasses perched high on her nose that concealed the wariness of her gaze. “I hope the Crown Prince never gets to your routine.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s nothing; she was talking to herself. Maki does that a lot,” Lady Mai’s forced chuckles were barely heard from the music. “You enjoy the party now. Don’t drink too much lest you want to embarrass yourself in everyone’s eyes and be talk of the Kingdom. Prince Naoya would hate it if you took the attention away from him.”

“Oh, uhm...”

“It’s a joke, Lady Y/N. Relax.”

You bowed once more. “My apologies.”

“The dance is about to begin,” Maki tapped on your shoulder, making you look up right where her eyes zeroed in. And exactly in the middle of the grandiose hall, under the sparkling golden chandeliers where he made all the gold in the world look incomparable next to him, the Crown Prince stood in his fully glory. Blond hair with the ends stained of midnight gelled back to reveal his forehead, the Crown Prince’s beauty never failed to shine. Whether it be in the papers, in the tabloids, in the billboards that you passed on the way to the city, or from way back when you met him for the first time as a naive, innocent teen – Crown Prince Naoya came straight out of a magazine cover.

In the back of your head, you could hear either of the twins murmuring good luck. Maybe both of them had said it – you had no idea. All of your attention, all the sensibility and coherence of your state had been switched the next instant, as if your heart and soul was born for the sole purpose of being bewitched by your Crown Prince.

And as if feeling someone’s gaze on him, the Crown Prince’s eyes trailed over the crowd. Almost boredly, his sharp eyes bounced from one giggling woman to another, the ends of his lips smirking upwards for just the tiniest bit. It must’ve stroked his ego. Until his eyes connected with yours. The Crown Prince’s eyebrows knitted together. You had no idea how you looked in that moment, and quite frankly, you didn’t care. Because the Crown Prince was looking at you, and you were looking at him with hearts in your eyes along with your heart pulsing at the tip of your tongue.

“Let us begin,” his lips moved from the distance, “Play the music. I shall dance with my bride.”

The air shifted in a split second. Murmurs were thrown over the room, women and men alike turning pale. Even the orchestra was stunned from the Crown Prince’s entrance – and it hadn’t even been dramatic to his standards – yet the whole castle fell mum from just a few of his words. A few seconds later, the crowd recomposed itself, and the strings began to dance along with its bows.

You are pushed into the crowd. Nearly colliding into the arms of another, you quietly thank the masked man who was to be your first partner of the night.

All the men joining the dance floor dressed with the intention of making the Crown Prince shine. Prince Naoya stood out from the throng of white as per the colour code, his blood red uniform as both Prince with the golden crest of the military leader pinned to his right breast. The other men meant to be filler partners until all the potential brides got to their designated three minutes with the Prince were all dressed in black, faces covered behind a plain black mask. None were allowed to talk. None were allowed to utter even a word, and so your partner pursed his lips in displeasure at your apology.

Whatever. You just had to wait a few more rounds before the song finished and transitioned into a new one; the song where you’d been informed would be your time alone with the Prince.

You’d been so lost in your head you barely breathed the entire dance. From partner to partner, you blanked. Your heart drummed so wildly in its cage it begged to come out, and strings of apologies were let out each time your masked partners grimaced for a brief second when their hands came in contact with your sweaty ones. Around you, all the lovely women smiled and danced graciously, mouths moving in unreadable conversations shared with the Crown Prince. Not once did you look at the six partners you’ve danced with. Not once did you worry about tripping on your own feet. Not once did you care that some of the masked men held you a little too roughly for your comfort. Your entire reason for existing in that moment was to witness the Crown Prince himself, mirroring his frown that got deeper and deeper with each woman retreating to the sea of people he’d rejected.

Not once did you even think about being one of them – the girls who’ve ducked their heads down as their parents comforted them over not being the chosen one, of bringing ‘dishonour’ to their families that the mighty Crown Prince had deemed them unworthy. Tears streamed down their faces until black ink followed afterwards, lips trembling from silent sobs.

Despite their broken prides – although there was that minority who simply sighed in relief after returning to their own families – no one would dare interrupt the Crown Prince’s dances.

All of these thoughts crossed your mind too late and at the exact time your masked partner pulled away from you, body half bent in a bow with his arm outstretched to the side. Following where he was gesturing at, your eyes met the Crown Prince’s tall and lean stature, a few blond fringes now fallen from his movements.

Even though a thin layer of sweat shone from his face, Prince Naoya remained ethereal.

And like a snake charmed by the musician’s seductive tone, your feet moved on its own. Fingers stretching until it met with the Crown Prince’s large and warm ones, you were now in front of him. With him. Holding him, touching him, meeting him eye for eye and realizing – gold. His eyes burned a deep shade of gold, elegantly rich and heartbreakingly stunning your heart ached.

Before you knew it, your hands began to tremble, feeling as if your body had been corded into a corset three sizes smaller. You could not breathe, and the Crown Prince took notice.

“You are stiff. Do I make you uncomfortable?” Good Saint. If only possible, you would’ve closed your eyes and basked in the deep warmth of his voice. It reverberated from deep within, breathed out with an air of natural authority and profound confidence it made your knees weak. As if sensing his effect on you (though for the wrong reasons, it seemed), Prince Naoya hummed to himself. “This routine shall last for a few minutes before I can let you go, I’m afraid.”

You instantly realized the implications of your silence. “N-not at all, Your Highness! I am honoured to be dancing with you.”

“There is no honour in a choreographed dance. Everyone will dance with me. It’s nothing special.”

Your heart fell. Prince Naoya not only sounded dejected, but detached as well. As if he found no pleasure or specialty in this event, at a time where he had every opportunity to meet his lover, and that this ball was merely a task to be checked off in his already long list of responsibilities. It wasn’t disappointment, per se, but rather melancholy that left a bitter taste in your mouth. Not because Prince Naoya held little to no regards for something you treasured, but because he sounded terribly alone. Like he was simply waiting for it to end out of discomfort.

“It’s special to me, Your Highness,” you blurted out faster than you could stop yourself. For a moment, you feared you may have offended him, but the Crown Prince only laughs.

And when he did – saint, when he laughed – his eyes crinkled into half moons, pearly whites flashing against the bright lights and his whole chest shook with amusement.

You’d never seen him smile this way before.

Prince Naoya’s laughter didn’t cease. Around you, your gut instincts told that people were now beginning to look; the Crown Prince’s deep rumbles of laughter sounded exquisitely like music as well, after all. “ Is it special to you because you are now dancing and within the Crown Prince’s proximity? As much as I presume how exhilarating it might be for those who mostly see me in the papers and in the tabloids, I assure you, dancing with your Prince is not an honour. Especially when you are all sent the invitations based on your status and not your worthy traits.”

“It’s special to me,” you mumbled, growing shy all of a sudden when the Crown Prince nodded at you to continue. “Because...because it reminds me of the first time we met.”

The Crown Prince hummed in amusement.

“We have met before?”

“Yes, Your Highness. I’m from the Terratian Borders – my father is a loyal servant of His Majesty. You visited the borders when you were eighteen and I was sixteen. Do you remember it, Your Highness? You stormed in my private library.”

Indeed, the young barely-out-of-his-teens Crown Prince barged into your home’s library years ago. You were not previously informed he and his parents would be visiting since they arrived wordlessly, so you were stuck in your chambers as usual, killing time if not for sleeping and tending to the animals. Perched on a ladder, you attempted to reach for a book on the upper shelf when your foot slipped beneath you. At the age of sixteen, you were dramatic enough to say your life flashed before your eyes. You would’ve screamed then had strong arms not appeared out of nowhere, the Crown Prince staring at you with wide, golden eyes as they were now, his breathy rasped as he asked, are you okay, my lady?

The mere recollection of that fateful memory had your cheeks warming in delight. “You were so charming and heroic back then. Even when I had no idea you were a royal, I would have still believed you to be princely,” you said rather absentmindedly, blinking once then twice at your words. “Of course, it’s understandable if you do not remember, Your Highness!”

“My apologies. I do not remember, though Terratia is a wonderful place. Such a shame I was not informed beforehand they had a lovely daughter.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” you cheered back, cheeks and jaw beginning to ache from how wide you were smiling. But could anyone blame you? You felt absolutely silly that you were a breath away from passing out minutes ago, and now here you were, dancing with the Crown Prince and sharing memories with him like it was a daily occurrence. The words it’s true love when you feel at peace with them suddenly rang back at your head from that latest romance novel you read, and you turned away, hoping the Crown Prince would not read your thoughts to your face. However, Prince Naoya’s lips pursed into a thin line, all traces of humour now disappeared. “I’m sorry – should I not have laughed?”

“No, I don’t mind,” he mused with his jaw locked tight, “I just haven’t seen anyone react that way before.”

“Like what?”

“Like my words meant the entire universe to them. I may dare even say you look terribly in love, though I cannot blame you on that one, can I?”

Prince Naoya shook his head the minute the words left his mouth. Forcing himself to believe it couldn’t be real, perhaps, you truly did not know anymore. Your only plan for tonight was to see the Crown Prince and get to live out your dream of seeing him once more even for just a brief moment before you travelled back home while he married another, and yet – “Your Highness, I’m in love with you. I have always been since the day we met.”

You could no longer stop the words. The voice at the back of your head begged you to shut up and not cause a scene, that your time had passed up and people were staring, yet you remained in his arms no matter how much you wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow you whole.

“Please do not misunderstand me, Your Highness. I did not come here to attempt to steal your heart and be your wife, though I will admit I have dreamt of meeting you again for so many moons. I...I only want to tell you this. That I love you and even though it was a brief moment, I think the love I’ve always read about felt real and possible for the first time in my life,” chuckling nervously, you gather to courage to face him, adoration shining for the Crown Prince stood shock still before you, however stunned he may be. “I love you, Your Highness. I love you. And to whoever lucky woman you choose to be your betrothed, I hope she takes care of you and showers you with all the affection you are deserving of. You would make a great King. So God help his Crown Prince, and may you lead us all into a better world.”

Prince Naoya did not budge a muscle. His eyes remained hard on yours, breath warm as his nostrils fumed. With each passing second that he did not speak, you grew restless and tugged your arm away from his hold with a disgraceful smile.

You’d truly crossed your line. The repercussions to be faced for this impoliteness would destroy your family’s honour. You had to leave. “Your Highness? The song has changed. It’s time to let go—”

The Crown Prince inched close enough until his hair tickled your cheeks, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine as he pulled you close, close enough that your lower bodies touched. Skin ablaze with heat, you dared not move an inch. “Do you mean it?” he demanded lowly, his fingers ghosting over your wrist to hold you in place. “Do you truly love me? Not for what I have, not for who I was born to be, but me as a person itself?”

Closing your eyes to shudder in a deep breath, you exhaled. “Of course, Your Highness. Even if you were not born as a Prince, I’m sure I would’ve still loved you in a different universe.”

“But I do not know you.”

“We don’t have to know each other, Your Highness, and we never will. Once you let me go, I’ll return to the shadows where I belong, and I will continue supporting you until the day of your coronation.”

“And if I refuse to let you go?” he clicked his tongue, “What will you do then?”

The Crown Prince’s spicy perfume must be an aphrodisiac or hypnotizer of sorts. Everything he did messed with your mind that it was too late – the music had stopped and people were no longer drinking or chatting. Everyone’s eyes were on you and the Crown Prince. You could only imagine how controversial this position must be; with his lips trailing dangerously close to that sensitive spot in your neck where you nearly moaned. You really needed to leave.

“P-people are looking, Your Highness. You do not want this affair with someone you won’t choose—”

“Who said I won’t choose you?” Finally, he pulled away. But Prince Naoya never once tore his gaze away from yours, nor did he allow you to look at anyone but him as he caresses your jaw so light and feathery you wondered if he was truly there.“Who said I haven’t laid my eyes on you the moment you walked in here? This ball is for naught because of you, Lady Y/N. I’ve already made my choice, and you helped me confirm it as soon as you danced with me.”

“Your Highness...”

“Look at me,” he ordered, your eyes flitting from his pinkish lips to his sharp nose and then to his fox-like gaze. Only this time, Prince Naoya was no longer harsh. “Don’t be scared.”

“But they’re looking.”

“You are with me, of course they’ll look,” he teased, “They wish to be you right now. But ignore them and dance one more time with me.”

It wasn’t like you had a choice, but did it matter? One nod from him was all it took before the orchestra fumbled back to their spots and a new song played, Ode of Moonlight Lovers, and the Crown Prince was guiding you back to where he had originally danced with you.

From the corners of your eyes, you caught a glimpse of your parents with their mouths gaped open; your father looking like he was on the verge of passing out. However, you felt nothing but joy, nothing but the adrenaline pumping through your veins as he danced and twirled you in his arms. When the music stopped and you were both panting for air with silly smiles on your face, it dawned on you that you were with the Prince. No, rather, it was only you and the Prince alone. Even in the sea of people whose faces began to blur, he prevailed crystal clear.

You could recognize him anywhere, find him everywhere.

Prince Naoya stepped impossibly closer until your chests touched, hearts beating as one. Cupping your jaw, he was near enough that he swallowed all your shaky breaths with a small, teasing smile like you both shared a secret the entire world could not know.

“Do I still make you nervous?”

Laughing, you nodded. “Yes, Your Highness. I feel like I’m going to explode.”

“It’s beloved now,” he corrected, face inching closer and closer to a point you could count the number of his lower lashes. “And what do lovers do to seal their union?”

“M-Marriage?”

“Close, but this is much better.”

If anyone were to tell you that you would have a love story ripped out straight from a fairytale, you would’ve laughed at their faces. You were no Cinderella, nor were you a goddess of beauty that could’ve possibly caught the Crown Prince’s eye. Yet, his soft lips were on yours, kissing you with as much passion you could only dream of that you cried.

Strong hands guiding the back of your waist, Prince Naoya dipped you lower to the ground – the grand of finish of his dance. He had chosen his bride.

The crowd cheered and rejoiced all around you, making you smile into the kiss. Fisting his collar to bring him closer to yours, your mouth burst into metaphorical fireworks as soon as his tongue mingled with yours for an experimental taste. He was bitter yet sweet; expensive wine resting on his tongue, yet a delicate vanilla sat heavily on his soft lips that molded with yours. It was a taste you could spend forever being addicted on. And you were crying, crying so much your chest ached and the Prince’s cheeks grew damp from yours. You’d dreamt of this for so long, too long now.

Prince Naoya slowly pulled you away, his thumb wiping the tears away from the pads of your cheeks with tenderness in his touch. However, the Prince was not satisfied. The crowd whooped as he leant down to kiss your forehead. “You are mine now, my princess.”

Looping his hands with yours, the Crown Prince led you out of the castle. The crowd parted naturally to make way for the new couple, and you were left staring at his broad back and the tuft of blond hair where you’d soon find out how soft it would be. Sending one last glance to your crying parents, you waved goodbye. You had no idea where the Crown Prince would take you but you were already bunching your dress up, heart completely filled with trust you did not question it. What mattered tonight and for the rest of your life was that it felt right. That it was him – your beloved Prince Naoya Zen’in and soon to be husband – that you’d follow through the moon and back.

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animereaderinsertwriter · 3 years

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Cupbearer (Eren/Reader)

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV (in progress)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), vampire!eren, hunter!reader, fem!reader, smut, some amount of predator/prey dynamics but only kinda?? there is also a significant age difference but only cos eren is immortal and all that jazz. we're all adults here. there will eventually be smut.... and do i really need to say that there's gonna be blood in a vampire fic?

Description: A story of falling in love in 4 parts.

Eren is a bad man (well, a bad Creature) who has done bad things. When he meets the great-great-great granddaughter of one of his former friends in his favorite blood bar, however, he thinks it might not matter so much what happened in the past, so long as he can make the future something worth living to see.

Ao3 link here

Part I

A lamb in a den of lions, he thought, watching the newcomer as she settled in, ordering whiskey neat. A fool, for sure.

A fool she may be, perhaps, but even fools could be dangerous. Eren had known that the young woman was a Hunter from the moment she entered the bar (everyone else had, too) but something told Eren that she was hardly cut from the same cloth as the average Bane of Creatures. There was something in her movements— a predatory grace in her stride, perhaps, or a stiff, straight posture, with muscles tensed and ready for action— that betrayed her power to him; but for all that, she really was lovely, and the image of a rabbit caught in a patch of bramble came to mind whenever he looked at her.

Sitting in a corner, drinking his B-neg, he watched the woman as she sipped her drink, checking over her shoulder now and then. She was wary— as anyone with good sense would be— but she didn't appear frightened, and Eren's curiosity was piqued. It wasn't every day that someone so bold happened across his path, and it became harder and harder for him to resist the urge to approach her.

Eventually, Eren gave in to his curiosity— he never had been very good at or even particularly fond of restraining himself— and when he came silently up behind her, the newcomer didn't even notice his presence until he murmured a greeting close to her ear.

"Hello, little love," he said, and she startled in her seat. "Are you lost?"

She turned around then, her eyes big and bright in the dim lighting of the bar, but by the time she managed to look at the spot where Eren would have been, he was already seated on the barstool beside her. Eventually, though, her eyes found his, and when their gazes met, Eren was amused to find no fear in her visage.

"Far from it," she told him, turning her body towards him. "I am precisely where I mean to be."

Eren blinked, nonplussed.

"Curious," he said, leaning forward so that she could see the sharpness of his teeth as he spoke. "Do you fancy yourself a wolf among sheep, little Hunter? Did you really not think we would know you for what you are the moment you crossed the threshold of this place?"

Any normal, human ear would have missed the way her heart leapt in her chest, but Eren missed nothing. The fear he had hoped to inspire in her was present after all, but her face never moved from its impenetrable mask— an affectation that was somehow both soft and steely at once.

"That's not what I'm here for," she told him, widening the distance between her knees as she readjusted on the stool. "I'm here to discover the truth."

The truth— what an odd notion!— and yet Eren sensed no lie in her.

"You're a strange one," he told her, but forced himself to relax his posture to appear lazy, almost drunk. "Most Hunters— even ones so pretty as yourself— shoot first and worry about the truth later. What's your name?"

Her nose crinkled. "It's polite to give your own first."

Sharp, he thought, watching her closely. Names have power.

"Eren Jaeger."

"Eren Jaeger," she echoed, then extended her hand. "My name is (Y/N)."

That name sounded familiar to Eren— and though most names did after living a few centuries, this one seemed to hit closer to home. He knew that name, and knew it well…

"What's your surname?"

(Y/N)'s eyes flashed with an emotion that Eren didn't catch.

"Kirschtein," she replied, averting her eyes. "I'm Jean Kirschtein's great-great-great granddaughter."

And damn if Eren didn't want to laugh. Perhaps his nosiness into the posterity of his old acquaintances really was as bad of an idea as Armin always seemed to imply.

"I see," he said, and he truly, truly did. "Then you know who I am— what I am— and what I've done."

More than that, if she truly did know who he was, it was unlikely that she had come without a specific purpose in mind.

(Y/N) nodded, confirming his suspicions. "I was digging around in my family history and— well— I read what my grandfather wrote, and I just— I wanted the truth."

So wide-eyed, so innocent— so alive. Eren could see now her resemblance to Jean; if they were not similar in looks, she had his sharpness, his humanness… and, as he always had Jean, Eren envied her for it.

"If that's the case, then I'm sure you know that you don't get something for nothing," he told her, sipping his drink just to watch the expression on her face as he let the warm blood slide down his throat. "And that dealings with me can be dangerous."

"Jean Kirschtein loved you, Eren Jaeger," she told him fiercely and with such conviction that Eren nearly choked on his drink. "To take such a tone with me, to threaten me, the last living remnant of him, is the most disrespectful thing I've ever heard."

Eren was about to say that he didn't owe her, Jean Kirschtein, or anyone else any sort of respect, but she plowed on, unwilling to let him say his piece.

"You broke his heart a million ways by doing what you did, but— but he was your friend through all of it, no matter what side each of you were on," (Y/N) continued, passion aflame in her eyes. "I can't even imagine what inspired such a love, such a loyalty from him that he would forgive you for the horrors you caused. That's what I'm here to find out— what you have that a man such as him would find you redeemable."

The reproof in her words stung, but Eren was too old to argue. She could never understand what it was like back then.

"I understand more than you think," she snapped, and Eren actually flinched. "I understand that you hurt the woman my grandfather loved immeasurably, and that he forgave you for that even though he never even particularly liked you. I understand that you were ready to sacrifice the world for that selfsame woman, for Jean, and for all the others. I understand that you're a monster who loved and was loved back, but I want to know why."

How? Eren thought, shaken.

How had she known his thoughts? It was as though she had seen straight through to his innermost being.

Without speaking, she answered his question. (Y/N) took a hand and rolled up her left sleeve, presenting to him a scarred marking in the shape of a pentagram.

"My grandfather didn't settle down with just anyone," she told him, holding his gaze. "I come from a line of powerful witches, all of whom possessed strong claircognizance. Paired with my nature as an empath, you can assume I know what you're going to say before you say it."

Eren hummed, trying to appear less perturbed than he was.

"And yet you hunt Creatures for a living; strange, since you're practically one of us yourself."

(Y/N) glowered. "I hunt monsters that prey on my people, not Creatures. No innocent has died by my hand."

The unlike you went unsaid, but that didn't mean that Eren didn't hear it anyway.

"Don't get high-and-mighty with me, girl," he told her roughly. "Knowing is one thing, but experiencing what we experienced is another."

"I'm not here to judge you," she replied. "I told you, I'm here for truth, nothing more."

"And I told you that the truth doesn't come for free," he told her darkly. "You must give me something in return."

(Y/N) set her jaw.

"What would you have of me?"

It was a mean, base request. Eren was wicked for even thinking it, and vile for wanting it— but looking at the great-to-however-many-degrees granddaughter of a good man that he had once known, seeing the vitality that brought a flush to her cheeks and thumping to her heart, he knew he couldn't pass up this golden opportunity.

It had been so long since he'd had a Companion.

"Become my cupbearer for six moons," he told her, crossing his arms. "Starting with tonight, the moon becomes new; let me drink from you until six of these have passed, and along the way, you will learn what you want to know."

(Y/N) eyed him warily.

"Can you assure my physical safety?"

Eren grunted, almost amused. It was a bit late to be worrying about that.

"I think you know that I can."

"And will you let me continue in my duties as a Hunter?" she asked, her eyes searching his own as if she would find the answer to her question there inside the same eyes he'd had since he was nineteen. "Completely uninhibited?"

"That depends. Will you kill Creatures in the discharge of your duties?"

(Y/N) made a face. Eren had forgotten how expressive mortals could be, but he found that being reminded was not altogether unpleasant.

"You know I will," she replied, "But you have my word that any killing won't be unprovoked."

Eren supposed it was as close to a compromise as he could expect.

"As you wish it, so shall it be."

He turned away, signaling to the bartender for another drink, but a lightning-fast hand shot out to grab his wrist.

"Swear it," she demanded. "I need us to be Bound by it."

The meanness in Eren finally won over. He reached forward, grabbing (Y/N) by the neck, and the silver rings on her fingers burned him as she pulled at his hand to try and restore her breath. Eyes from all around the room were on the two of them— had been, since the very beginning— but it was only once the Hunter before him began to look appropriately humbled that he withdrew.

"Do not touch me without my permission," he said, "And I will return the favor."

(Y/N) looked at him then, but there was still no fear in her eyes. Anger, yes, but no fear.

She must be mad, or foolish one, he thought, considering her for a moment. I always have been partial to mad fools in general, but…

Something about her seemed different, and Eren didn't know what to do other than accept what she had to offer. Heavens knew he was getting the better end of the deal anyway.

"Swear it," she repeated, this time more quietly. "Give your word, and I will be your cupbearer."

Eren brought his hand up and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt. At his will, the nail tip of his forefinger sharpened, hardening into a point; he used it to draw an 'X' onto the skin just over where his heart rested inside his chest, cold and dead. Blood welled into the cut— precious little, compared to that of a human, but still enough to run down his chest in smudges— and it was by that blood that he swore. He spoke the terms of their agreement, then took the blood from his wound with the pad of his finger and marked the same spot over (Y/N)'s own heart.

"Satisfied?" he asked, their faces almost touching, and (Y/N) shivered.

"Yes."

Her warm, living breath fanned over his face with her reply, and Eren took the moment to close his eyes and appreciate the scent and sensation of it.

"You may think you're satisfied," he told her, pulling away, "But you don't know the meaning of the word."

She eyed him warily, but before she could speak, he added, "In six months' time, I'll ask you the same question, and it is then that you will truly know what it is to feel satisfied— satiated in every way."

"As you say."

It was a throwaway comment, nothing more than a dismissal, really; but Eren felt like it was the start of something truly remarkable.

#aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot #aot fanfiction #eren x reader #vampire!eren jaeger #aot smut

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todoscript · 4 years

Text

lilies & lilacs pt. i

SUMMARY: A dilemma with his grand charity gala brings Todoroki Shouto, CEO of Todoroki Enterprises, at your humble flower shop’s doorstep.

pairing: ceo!todoroki shouto x florist!reader

genre: eventual smut. fluff. slow burn. no quirks au.

word count: 5.6k+

warnings: none in this part, but expect sexual content in the future.

author’s note: this has been rotting in my wips for a couple of months now, but i finally decided to post it with the decision of progressing the story into parts. thank you to the lovely rosie aka @shoutogepi for initially betareading this and keeping the hype up for the fic in our chats together (love you <333)! feedback is welcomed and before you ask, im opening a taglist for the next 2 parts so just ask if you wish to be included

The uneasy padding of her boss’ dress shoes across the floor of his office made the secretary restless. She knew the bad news she delivered would cause some displeasure to stir within him, but never would she expect his tough bearings to falter, his troubles conveyed in hasty steps and frayed skin skewing those handsome features.

During the past two years she’s worked for him, she always thought his expression was nearly unreadable. When it came to his high position, her boss was forward and direct at conducting business—calm, stoic, and a perfect representation of efficiency and strong work ethic in his field. So while she witnessed the man’s uncharacteristic distress before her eyes, she wasn’t sure how this could end well for her.

Sweat began beading her forehead at the tension creeping between each tap of his feet against the hardwood below, coming to an unnerving halt behind his desk. When her eyes found his, all she could gather in those gray and turquoise clouds was annoyance toward their current predicament.

“What do you mean we don’t have a florist booked yet?” he repeated the dilemma she relayed to him merely moments ago. Hearing the agitation in his voice caused a nervous gulp to drop in her throat. She clutched her clipboard firmly in her arms to keep herself anchored in the wake of her boss’ growing frustration. However, she was still unsure how to continue as the words remained sealed in her mouth.

“Well?” Noticing his secretary’s lack of response, he pushed forward, hands leaning against the edge of his mahogany desk. The woman urged herself to endure the obstacles by first breathing through her nose before swallowing the lump in her throat, responding quickly.

“Um, Mr. Todoroki, sir, it seems all the florists on our list have all been booked for other events for the rest of the month,” she said, but mentally scolded herself when she heard herself sputter in such an unprofessional manner. Despite that, she prayed the explanation was enough to sate even a fraction of her boss’ inner turmoil.

Shouto approached her answer with silence before that foreseeable sigh left his lips, spilling with exasperation. He turned, his back facing the secretary, gaze lined to the windows gracing him with sunlight behind his desk. Stuck in contemplation, he pinched the bridge of his nose, mouth pursed in a firm line.

Where am I going to find a florist in time for this damn charity gala? He internally griped, closing his eyes as if that would help him uncover the solution to this untimely mess.

His esteemed company, Todoroki Enterprises, had arranged a plan to hold a widely anticipated charity gala by the end of this month. The event was conducted to raise funds for all manners of different charities that would vary in the level of grandeur on display. And given that the organizing for the event would be under his very name, Shouto had the critical responsibility of ensuring nothing but peak quality to those that would attend.

His staff had long procured the venue and were managing the layout of the gala. They sought out some suitable entertainment, booked catering, and scheduled for the charity auctions and raffles to take place throughout the night. What was still needed were the decorations, and right now that was where they hit their deadend with no florist currently reserved.

And here’s the real kicker: the gala was two weeks away.

Two. Weeks.

How he allowed for such errors to occur was beyond him at this point. All that really mattered was that he found a way to correct those mistakes and fast.

As much as Shouto figured he could skip past the flowers and substitute them with some other kind of flashy decorations, he already had a clear idea of how he wanted the gala to look. The floral arrangements would compliment the theme of the event exceedingly well. Turning back on the plan would be an insult to everyone’s prepared attire for the evening, with the dress code already sent out to all the distinguished guests invited to this grandiose ball. No doubt in his mind, he needed that florist, and needed them stat.

Sure on his resolution, he finally shifted to face his secretary. The anxious expression plastered on her face greeted him, and at that, Shouto bit his lip. His guilt surfaced for allowing his emotions to affect his workspace. He knew better than to take out his frivolous thoughts on his staff, who very well had no control over the situation. So he eased the atmosphere, attempting to lift the tension surrounding his office in the dreary gray of his temper.

“Nishiyama, I’m sorry for my behavior just now,” he apologized. The secretary, in turn, was taken aback, eyes widened. Her anxiety slowly whittled away as she scampered to return his kind gesture.

“Oh no, sir, it’s fine! I’m sure you were just feeling stressed hearing the news. I surely would be if I were in your shoes.”

“No, it’s not. I was acting childish despite how much you and everyone have done so far for the event,” Shouto said, “I should be thankful for your time, considering you also have a family to take care of at home.”

While the woman stared at him, abashed by his sincerity, Shouto swiveled his chair around to take a seat. A much-needed seat to be entirely honest. His secretary was not kidding about how the bad news seemed to harrow some stress in his body. But, being accustomed to having this weight pushed on his shoulders from the very moment he was announced the head of the company many years ago, he more than anticipated the stress to come with the job.

Shouto spared his secretary one last glance before his eyes darted down between the important papers sprawled on his desk. “If that’s all the news we needed to address today then you’re dismissed, Nishiyama. Carry on with the rest of the organizing as planned,” he ordered. Nishiyama lowered her clipboard to her hip.

“R-Right. Thank you, sir.” She parted his presence with a curt bow. Shouto picked up on her heels clicking toward his office door until they suddenly stopped altogether, looking back at the man midway. “What about the florist, sir?” she asked, concerned at the unresolved predicament lingering in the air. Her question wasn’t met with an immediate reply, but Shouto eventually gave her an answer he deemed adequate of a response. His words were coated with as much reassurance as he could muster in this situation.

“Don’t worry, I’ll handle it myself.”

The task was easier said than done.

Usually, when it came to booking a florist for special occasions like this, you’d want to contact them months ahead of the scheduled date to ensure maximum efficiency and work out any problems that should arise. But there were only two weeks left until the awaited charity gala.

Shouto was certainly pushing his luck at this point and to a dangerous degree. If he didn’t find someone to arrange the flowers for the ball soon, the venue might be absent of all life and mood, essentially flopping from missing such a key element. Shouto could not allow for that to happen.

Given his word, he took it in his hands to rectify this mistake. For the entirety of the day, he sifted through the aforementioned list of florists his secretary had provided him—extended thanks to his team’s desperate search for more options.

All he had to do was narrow down the lineup. Unfortunately, those efforts may as well have been all for naught.

“Hello, is this Himawari’s Garden? I’d like to speak with the head florist there about arranging the flowers for a gala my company has been planning—”

“I’m terribly sorry, sir, but we’re currently busy preparing for a big wedding coming up next week. If you’d like, I can try and book our services for you toward the next month or so when we’ll be available?”

Shouto’s brows tightened during the exchange—a gesture he’d been repeating as of late while he dwindled the line of florists. If he kept it up, those wrinkles might be embedded into his skin permanently. He was at least grateful he managed to thwart the heavy breath of air that threatened to leave his lips and reveal his frustration to the woman on the phone.

“No, that’s fine. Thank you for your time.” With that, he hung up.

Shouto leaned back in his seat in exasperation, his weight pressed into the cushions as his eyes situated themselves toward the ceiling. The consistent taps of his fingers on his mahogany desk were all he heard amidst his deep contemplation. His eyes lidded shut in an attempt to seek a moment of refuge from the stress, but his conscience began eating at him.

Of course, what was he thinking? The beginnings of spring to late autumns were the mark of wedding season—the time where florists and other businesses specializing in decorative arrangements thrived and busied themselves with eager clients. Not only that, but it was also the month of June. The sixth month of the year was undoubtedly the most popular month among couples to hold their weddings, and he had witnessed this fact firsthand through his myriad of fruitless phone calls.

Shouto had thoroughly wrung through his rope and teetered on the edge of complete defeat. He sealed down his most recent loss at the hand of another busy floral business by striking a line across Himawari’s Garden on his list. At that, the total tallied to thirty whole flower shops. Thirty unsuccessful attempts.

That sigh he contained during the phone call found its way out of his throat in dramatic waves of displeasure

“You alright, sir?”

His administrative assistant, Midoriya Izuku, heard his huffs when he entered the threshold of Shouto’s office. He noted his boss’ hunched posture and the rare crease crinkled between his nose bridge, pressed against his hands that were clenched together above his desk.

“I’m guessing the new list of florists was also a no-go?”

Shouto didn’t offer any words, instead sliding said list—now fully crossed out—toward his assistant as his reply. Craning his head for a better look, Midoriya feigned a smile, not wanting to let the man’s defeat consume the mood entirely.

“Well... I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised… Wedding season is upon us after all.”

Oh yes, Midoriya. Shouto knew that very well. So much so that he sunk further into his desk at the reminder, head practically drooped with a gloomy rain cloud hovering atop him. The green-haired assistant fervently shook his head back-and-forth upon realizing his remark had thrown salt into his wound. “Oh, I-I mean... Don’t worry, sir! I’m sure we’ll still be able to sort out this problem in time before the gala!” he sputtered to help alleviate the despair that crept in, but it came to no avail according to his boss’ silent sulky demeanor. That was when Midoriya remembered the two cups of hot coffee held in each of his hands.

“Ah, right, I made you some coffee! I figured you could use one considering you’ve been cooped up in your office all day.” Setting one in front of him, Shouto perked up at the nutty aroma that slowly slipped into his senses. He eyed the fresh cup of coffee tentatively, the steam flitting above it in wisps.

Lifting the cup, the rich smell wafted further into his nostrils, imbuing him with that familiar peace he usually reveled in. On any ordinary day, he’d be accompanied by his classic roasted blend perched on his desk, with no problems threatening to disturb his peaceful routine. Not anything like today. Not anything like this dilemma of a desperate time crunch for a florist.

Perhaps that was what he needed. A filter of caffeine to wash away the ordeal like it was a bad morning plaguing him with baggy under-eyes and fatigue from a previous day of hard work. Though he’s sure not even caffeine could erase the headaches he developed throughout his day so far. If anything, indulgence would just make those headaches worse.

Nonetheless, he welcomed the smooth blend of flavors that ebbed down his throat through modest sips, rejuvenation quickly oozing in his veins. Headaches or not, the stimulation from the caffeine was essential if he wanted to combat the rest of the day with some drive.

“Thanks, Midoriya. I needed that,” Shouto acknowledged. He nodded at his assistant, who rubbed the back of his head modestly, saying how it was no problem at all, but the way his boss suddenly got up from his seat interrupted his words.

Shouto already felt the strong coffee going to work as his steps picked up in long strides around his desk that had the assistant’s brows knitting together, confused. “Where are you going, sir?” Midoriya asked, his voice sounding more distant to Shouto, who continued his way past him and toward the door.

“A quick drive,” was the blatant answer he gave. He downed the last of the cup before tossing it in the trash bin near the exit of his office. “Something to clear my head a bit. I’ll be back soon, but until then, keep reaching out to any businesses that could potentially be available to help us.”

“Yes, of course, sir! You can count on me!” Midoriya was prompt in replying. As expected, being Shouto’s right-hand man at the company.

With that, Shouto took to the parking lot below his building, twirling his keys over his index finger before hopping into his Mercedes and driving off.

The withering sunlight cast its glare over his car during his ride through the city. By now, the skies splayed vibrant red as the sun gandered above the horizon. He drove down the narrow and busy streets that kept the place bustling at these hours. It was likely the time when people finished up their workday and were eager to arrive home for much-needed rest.

During a particularly long wait at a red traffic light, he pondered over his predicament again. His thumb rapped against the steering wheel while he bit his bottom lip, that ugly feeling of regret seeping into his thoughts.

Maybe he placed too much faith in these flowers after all. Sure, he mentioned the vital role they played in aligning with the theme and complimenting the guests’ attires. But was it worth all the trouble he put his team through, searching through a throng of businesses already busy with their own events to organize? In a way, this could’ve been sorted out had he recognized the current times and planned accordingly to avoid the mess. But now they were trapped in this bind, crunching for anyone that could help them within only fourteen short days.

Just as he weighed the idea of calling Midoriya over the bluetooth in his car to drop the floral arrangements altogether, something caught his eye at the last second.

Shouto peered through his window, squinting at the corner, where he spotted a cart of flowers in front of a shop of some sort. His grip tightened around the leather of his steering wheel as he leaned in for a better look. Some kind of spark in him roused his anticipation the more he shifted forward in his seat, like the hope that was slowly fading inside was igniting once again.

Another inch further and he attained a better look of the shop. Its sign came into view just below the small boundary of his window—letters brushed in calligraphy on a long board of canvas with lilies painted on the edges that seamed together into a bouquet.

N… Neigh… Neighborhood Lily.

He deciphered the words, but didn’t give them much thought. All that enveloped his mind afterward was the fact the name wasn’t any of the list of thirty shops he phoned today. So the very moment the light overhead flickered to green, Shouto’s hold on the wheel tightened. His foot gradually stepped on the pedal with much more purpose.

He decided to take a brief detour from this casual little drive of his.

It was about six o’clock when you waved off your latest customer, who was leaving the shop with a basket of vibrant tulips swinging on their arm. The smile on their face was an adamant indication they were more than happy with their time here, something you always delighted in, being very passionate about your job as a florist.

“Thank you, and please come again!” The bell overhead gave a gracious chime at the customer’s departure.

With them gone, you drew your attention back to the flowers laid out on the small wooden table in the corner of the shop. Before the customer came in, you were at work arranging and crafting the blossoms you purchased from the flower market that morning into bouquets.

You’d be closing in about an hour and thirty minutes or so, but for now, you basked in the silence and the calming aroma of the flowers that surrounded you while you continued your work. A modest hum naturally sang past your lips and soothed its way into the shop that was devoid of all souls except yourself.

“Hm, you’re a pretty thing, aren’t you?” You made some small talk with the rose in your hand. It was a habit of yours to spill a few words out within your own little world, imagining the flowers were keeping you company whenever you were alone.

“And there, now you all look even prettier.” An adoring smile embellished your lips as you finished off another bouquet by tying it with a silk ribbon. Looking over the bundle one more time, you thoroughly admired the shades of pinks and reds that complimented each other in the ensemble.

Then two more bouquets down, and you already made a good amount of progress. You figured that if you kept up the pace, you’d likely finish the rest of the batch and have them ready for display tomorrow. But just as you clasped three more flowers in your hand, the bell atop the door chimed, alerting you to a new patron.

You nicked off a thorn from one of the stems before turning around and giving your attention to the visitor. When your eyes found their way to the shop’s entrance, you were surprised to meet a man of slicked white and red hair. The few strands that found their way out of the gel must have been tussled from a long day of work considering the fatigue plain on his handsome face.

Despite the few wrinkles here and there, his attire was still surprisingly pristine. He wore a simple yet compelling suit, the fit seeming tailored to the contours of his body that rendered you a tad speechless at how good he looked just standing there. The sight almost made you feel underdressed.

You hadn’t realized you were staring for longer than you deemed appropriate. You couldn’t help it, being that the stranger was a stark contrast to the regular customers you were used to. The fanciest you’ve encountered since you opened your shop were the young boys that rushed in with nicely fitted tops and jeans, frantically inquiring about what kinds of flowers were right to give to a girl for a date they had later that day. Not anything like attractive businessmen in immaculate suits and shining silver wristwatches that surely cost more than all the flowers you tended here.

Noticing you were gawking, you blinked thrice to knock yourself out of your trance and properly greet the man.

“H-Hello, welcome to Neighborhood Lily,” you said, mustering the politest tone you could give to make up for the awkward moment of wordless eye contact. You must have kept your eyes on him for what felt like a good five minutes at least. The man, in turn, acknowledged you with a small grin, much to your relief.

“How may I help you this evening?”

“I’m…” he hesitated, seeming wary of how he wanted to go about his next choice of words, “just looking for now,” he decided.

Not paying much mind to his hesitation, you nodded. “Oh, well, if you have any questions or need any help on anything, please let me know. I’ll just be around the corner!”

Allowing him to go about his business, you returned to your table of flowers and oversaw the blossoms again. However, it was difficult for you to busy yourself with the task at hand. The mere thought of the other presence in the shop was enough to hammer you out of your concentration.

He was already a compelling figure on his own, what with his good-looks accompanied by his classy ensemble that felt more than out of place here. But what you were especially curious about was what business he had at a humble flower shop like yours during this hour.

That curiosity led your eyes straying to the side, where you peeped the man walking through the small aisle of flowers. He examined the bouquets and vases on display, even showing interest in the more decorative pieces hung in pots from the ceiling.

You tried to determine what his motives were. He was showing some considerable intrigue at your arrangements, though perhaps it was pure admiration for your work, and you were letting your self-consciousness get to you.

Well, spying would just get you nowhere, you thought. One way or another, he’d answer your curiosity by either coming to you directly or leave the shop altogether. You had to admit you hoped more for the former.

Until then, you tore your gaze away and resumed gathering flowers in your hands. You assessed their compatibility with one another while you fiddled around with their placement in the bouquet. The white lilies and the blue lilacs went very well, along with another set of light violet lilacs you couldn’t help but string into the bundle. As a result, the beautiful balance of cool tones made for an exceptional well-made bouquet. You finished the piece with a matching white satin ribbon and then let the arranged flowers thrive inside a glass vase.

“Those are very pretty.”

Startled at the voice, you whipped your head around, hands braced behind you against the edge of the wooden table. Your untimely lack of words were a result from realizing the owner of the voice was closer than you anticipated.

The businessman went from lingering around the aisle of flowers in the middle of the shop, to appearing in your proximity.

“E-Excuse me?” you asked, wondering if you heard correctly to which he pointed at the bouquets laid finished on the table. “In fact, all the flowers here are exceptionally beautiful.” He gestured to the entirety of the shop. His eyes quickly roamed across all the decorative flourishes before they came back to you.

“You do excellent work here in your shop.”

Words coming from a man like him made you bashful. You subconsciously played with the hem of your apron, eyes drifting to anywhere but his face at the compliment. However, the sliver of heat fluttering to your cheeks didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Oh, um, thank you. It’s nothing really, I’ve been arranging flowers for quite some time while at the last floristry I worked for so I have a fair amount of experience.”

After another second of fiddling with the fabric, your hands ended up falling to your sides. You sauntered toward one of the flower vases that were already set on display, dawdling around the conversation. His eyes followed you, watching you nurture the blossoms. “I opened this flower shop of mine just recently actually. Been getting a decent amount of business here and there, but I’m just glad that the people who’ve visited so far like my work,” you told him, twirling a strand of your hair. The pads of your other hand brushed against the soft, abundant petals of a yellow chrysanthemum.

The man observed your actions, analyzing your face. He distinguished the devotion hidden in your eyes as you looked upon the flower with a luster. Despite your humble character, it was more than clear to him you were very passionate about what you did, relishing in the ambiance and admiring the modest appearance of this little shop of yours, covered in the wonderful aroma of flowers.

You didn’t detect that deep breath of air he earnestly drew in as he stepped closer. So close that his proximity broke your stupor to meet his rigid expression.

“How would you feel about an… opportunity to let more of your work be known?”

“An opportunity?” you echoed. “Wait… do you maybe have a wed—”

“No,” he interjected, so abruptly that you couldn’t help but quirk a brow. Catching himself, he took a moment to clear his throat, mindful of his behavior. “I mean, it’s not a wedding. Rather, a charity gala that my company has been planning for some time.”

“A gala?” Your mouth worked faster than your mind, accidentally blurting out your thoughts. The astonishment was evident in your tone; it made the man question your reaction by leaning in.

“Yes, a gala,” he said again like you didn’t just hear his words from a foot away, without even realizing the lengths behind his baffling offer. “Is there something wrong about that?”

“N-No. It just wasn’t the kind of opportunity I expected it to be is all… A gala…” Your voice hushed around the utter of “gala”.

What the man presented so blatantly was unexpected to your ears. Galas meant a pompous party full of people decked in lavish attires, drinking quality champagne from tulip glasses. Sizing up the man again, you could only imagine this gala would only include the most important and wealthiest people in attendance.

You had to ask something, “Um, about this gala... How many people will be there?”

“Maybe about... five hundred or so? I’ll have to check in with my assistant to confirm the full count again.” He shrugged nonchalantly and yet on your end, hearing the number almost reduced your head to a dizzy mess.

Five hundred guests? It was a number you couldn’t fathom. You hadn’t even been booked for an occasion as ordinary as a baby shower, but this man wanted you to arrange flowers for his big charity gala?

As oddly enticing of a job it was to you, there had to be anyone else more experienced and capable for this.

“Sir, I’m not su—”

“The pay, of course, will be more than generous, and I’ll even provide you funding for any necessary materials for this project,” he chimed in before you could voice your protest. It was then that you began to distinguish something laced in his voice and exhibited on his face.

Desperation.

This man seemed desperate for some reason.

“May I ask when the event will take place?” Your arms crossed against your chest. A gulp formed in his throat at the question, unsure if he wanted to unveil the news or risk scaring you off. Either way, if you were working for him, you’d learn eventually. A sigh came out.

“Two weeks,” he answered.

Oh yeah, that explained it. It also answered any questions you had over the tension rigid in his shoulders. At this point, you were bound to join him in his stress because, goddamn, organizing a whole assembly of flowers for a grand ball within fourteen days? The idea was beyond daunting.

While you reflected on the intimidating pieces of information, he was gauging your reaction. Would you say yes? No? Laugh at the idea that he thought he could find a florist to work for him at such late notice? There were a slew of uncertainties twisting in his head—an act unbecoming of him, but you were his last hope. Whatever you responded with next would either be the nail in his coffin or the wings that made him soar.

You would be treading on uncharted waters at a chance like this, having never sailed anywhere beyond your little island of floristry where people came and went with your humble little arrangements. But you also thought of this as a daring opportunity to find new land. See what the world had in store for you outside of selling the general bouquets and vases you had on display. Plus, when would a chance like this ever come up again?

Though it meant encountering difficulties along the way, taking on such a big challenge right off the bat, you figured you’d be able to keep your boat afloat. You were also sure the journey toward bigger regions would be worth the struggle in the end.

“So do you have your answer?” he pressed forward when your silence became unbearable to his nerves. He thanked the fact that his voice managed to sound steady enough not to give himself away. Your arms remained crossed in front of you, your hand coming beneath your chin the only sign that you were taking his offer to heart. It kept the flickering flames of hope blazing inside him.

“I just want to ask you something,” you replied. He nodded, allowing you to continue.

“I know you’re under pressure with this gala coming up in only two weeks,” you began. Your arms unraveled, and your fingers ran to your apron again. You formed the next bit of words with uncertainty, “but are you sure I’m the right person for this job? I mean, I don’t have much to offer you in terms of skill other than what I have here.” You nudged at the range of your shop, plain as can be though with a generous amount of flourishes on display. Yet nothing you thought special enough to be graced by him and his grand proposal that evening.

“I just don’t want you to regret your decision.”

There was a pause of silence after that. The man seemed to give your words some thought—a quick reflection on the situation. You couldn’t decipher much in his face, but you happened to take some time to admire how pretty his eyes were. The individual blue and gray shades were mesmerizing to you, resembling glaciers glittering beneath the moon high in the north. Another detail you jotted in his long list of attractive features. Before you could marvel at them any further, he whisked your thoughts back to earth with his response.

“It’s true that I’m coming to you because I’m in need,” he admitted, hands slowly closing into fists like he was reluctant to confess this, “but from what I can see, I genuinely think you’re more than capable for this job. So yes, I’m very sure I won’t regret this decision.”

It was clear to you that he was sure on his stance. But to reinforce his statement, he bent his head low into a bow, weight added to his next words.

“Please be the florist for our gala.”

The gesture briefly overwhelmed you, not something you were expecting, but you managed to acknowledge it by returning the bow.

“I’ll be in your care then.”

With all things said, you were soon tidying up the exchange and trading business cards. Yours was a standard card with your number, name, and business attached with a picture of a lily printed across the paper. His, a premium slip of stainless steel engraved with his information and then some, the fancy card reflecting off the lights hanging from the ceiling. You read the name etched in ebony black over the gray material.

Todoroki Shouto — CEO

“You’ll likely receive a call from either one of my assistants or me within the next day or so about when to meet up to plan for the arrangements.” Shouto’s voice brought your head up from the card, where you watched him glide toward the door.

“R-Right, I’ll leave my cell on,” you stuttered. The fact that this whole exchange had just transpired was still kicking in for you.

Shouto nodded, extending a wave out that you mirrored while he opened the door to the shop, the bell chiming above him.

“I’ll see you then.”

After that, the resonating tinkles of the bell were the last you heard.

You stared at the entrance aimlessly, mouth gradually gaping open at the mere prospect that you were really about to arrange your flowers for a grand charity gala in two weeks!

A mixture of elation and jitters erupted in your body all at once, uncontained as you whipped your head around and strode across your shop in giddy steps. Your eyes lit up at the steel card gripped between your fingers, clenched so tightly like you were worried the card would turn to dust when you woke up from this dream. But at the wide smile that bloomed on your lips, you knew that this was reality. This man, Todoroki Shouto, was giving you the opportunity to have your true potential shown at this big gala.

Meanwhile, on his way back to his Mercedes, Shouto was clicking open his phone. The screen beamed at him in the low light of the evening turning to night while he punched a number from his contacts list. It took only the cusp of the second ring for the person on the other line to pick up his call.

“Midoriya, call off the search,” Shouto commanded into his phone. He rested his back on the door of his car, leaning against it with his phone still attached to his ear. His gaze found its way back to the flower shop he had just departed, eyeing the light emitting from the windows to the sign hanging above them. Grinning, he took in the sight of the flowers dancing in the wind around the shop’s vicinity before finding your silhouette standing in the benevolent light inside.

“We have our florist.”

#bnha x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha imagine #todoroki shouto x reader #mha x reader #bnha fic #todoroki fic #todoroki imagine

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myafterlifeisbetterthenyours · 3 years

Note

Glad you're enjoying the story and picking up where we left off, I have some ideas for the direction of the story taking into account my personal vision and my own OC "Kiell" which I decided not to post anywhere. I'm sure Stella the moment she saw Blitzo she would attack you, but after many hours with you trying to keep Stella under control so as not to destroy half of the palace in search of Blitzo. Later, after a brief fight with Stolas, Stella decides to go shopping with s / n and during the

Stella with her Owl demon S/O

You stared at the Imp. The Imp staring right back.

You went to move, try and fix the situation. But before you could make a move, Stella barged past you, nearly toppling you to the ground.

'How fucking dare you!' Stella screached, chasing after the Imp.

Dusting yourself off, you watched as Stella chased the Imp around the clearing, screaming a variety of curses at the Imp.

The Imp, out of space to go, ran into the hedge maze Stella close behind.

You just watched, slowly following after, Already having a good idea what was about to happen.

Stella ran into the hedges, screaming at the Imp.

Running deeper into the maze, Stella's voice gradually got further away.

You stood at the entrance. And as you suspected, the Imp's little head popped out of the hedge, looking the way Stella ran before climbing out of the hedge.

He chuckled to himself, dusting off a few leafs before walking off.

Directly into you.

He looked up at you, an awkward little smile crossing his face. 'Please don't kill me.' He begged before you grabbed him by the horn.

Dragging him off, the Imp pleading for his life, his pleas getting progressively more desperate the further you dragged him.

You dragged him through the maze until you reached the large concrete wall that surrounded the palace grounds.

Tossing him against the wall, the Imp had balled himself up, covering his face.

But after a few moments of nothing happening he looked up, slowly lowering his arms.

'So your... not gonna kill me?' He asked. Clearly confused as to what was happening.

You couldn't help but laugh at his simple nature. 'Kill you?' You asked in mock disbelief 'My good man. After everything you've done for me, I should be shaking your hand!' You proclaimed.

I pulled him to his feet, you dusted off the Imps coat, 'Everything I have, is thanks to you. Something I am very grateful for.' You told him fondly.

Your right hand slid up his shoulder, gripping the side of his neck, 'Unfortunately you've seen me and my love in quite the compromising position. So, I'm gonna need some assurance you won't tell anyone.' I told him, an edge to my voice.

The Imps face morphed into a smirk 'Ah, yes, I got a good eyeful of you and her highness.' The Imp inspected his hands, 'I'd love to help you, really I would, but, uh, why should I?' He asked a coyly.

You let out a long chuckle before wrapping your hand around his throat. 'Don't think just because Im grateful to you, I won't kill you. The only reason I haven't just killed you, is because your still of use to me.'

Releasing his throat, I pulled back, dusting my coat. Before extending my hand. 'Now, I need your word you won't share this information with anyone.' You growled, extending your hand.

Your hand begining to give of the familiar glow of magic.

Blitz hesitated. 'Why should I?' He asked, clearly wanting something out of it.

As if on cue, the silence was broken by Stella's distant screams, a large fire ball firing into the air, showing just how close she was.

Looking back at the Imp I told him 'I could always give you to her, I'm sure she would-' before I could finish he pushed his hand into mine.

The deal was made instantly.

The Imp wavered for a second, before asking 'Wha-what happens now?'

Gripping his shoulder, you told him, 'Now? Now, you leave.'

With that said, you grabbed him by his coat and threw him into the air, clear over the wall.

'Hurry on back now!' You called out, a wrath twang to my voice.

'Wouldn't want Stolas missing his little boy-toy.' You growled as you walked away.

It wasn't hard to find Stella, the yelling had only gotten louder, now accompanied by fire... lots of fire.

When you found her, she was screaming at stolas, the field around her ablaze in purplish flames.

Now, you were quiet content to watch Stella give her "Husband" a verbal thrashing.

But when you saw there daughter, staring down from the second floor window. The poor girl looked in utter distress at her parents fighting.

You moved forward quickly, ignoring the pain as the flames licked your body.

Reaching her, you spun her around, looking her dead in the eyes. You stroked her cheek, telling her you were there for her.

Tears welled in her eyes, the flames around you slowly died down until you were just holding the sobbing woman in a field of Burt grass.

You held her close as she cried into your chest. Holding her close, you looked up, meeting Stolas' gaze as he looked at the two of you.

You couldn't help but Shooting dangers at the prince, he was the cause of this, and you wanted him to know it.

You carefully picked the woman up, carrying her away.

You entered the palace, you locked eyes with Stolas one last time before letting the ghost of a smile spreading across your mouth.

You carried her into the palace, backtracking all the way to her study.

It took some work, but you opened the door, carrying her in, placing her on the large lounge set against the far wall.

Laying her down, you pulled out your handkerchief. Wiping away her tears you asked her gently 'Are you alright?'

Stella just shook her head, rubbing her arm across her eyes. 'No. No Im not' she said, her voice thick with emotion. 'There's no where. Theres nothing I can do, nothing without that Fucking Imp ruining it.'

She broke down into a new fit of tears, pulling you close she clung to you like the world would fall out beneath her.

She sobbed into your chest, crying for what seemed like hours. Releasing all the frustration she had seemed to pent up. You just held her close as she did.

It was as she finally calmed down, that there was a knock on the door. Getting up, you walked over before cautiously opening it.

It was her daughter. And she looked quite concerned.

'You must be Octavia' you told her gently, taking her hand with a small bow. Octavia spoke gently, asking you 'Is my mum alright?'

Not sure how to answer, you moved out of the way, allowing her to enter the room.

Seeing her daughter, Stella quickly wiped her face, cleaning herself up a little before saying to her 'Hello darling.'

Octavia said it back before taking a seat on the couch.

The two shared some gentle words with each other, Octavia seeming very concerned for her, but you could tell your presence was holding her back.

So you gently spoke up. 'I'll go have some tea brought up. Give you two a moment.' Stella gave you a thankful look, Octavia giving you a thoughtful glance before focusing on her mother.

You left the room silently, carefully closing the door behind you. Now in the hallway you went about looking for the help, making your way down the long hallway.

You may have despised Stolas as a man, but you had to admit, his home was quiet amazing.

You eventually found a Butler, from whom you politely asked if he could have some tea sent to Stella's study.

With your task complete you started the arduous task of retracing your steps back to the study.

Making it back, you were surprised to find Stolas outside her door. Walking closer, the demonic Prince turned to you.

'What are you doing with my wife?' He demanded.

Stepping closer you stopped before bringing a finger to your chin 'what ever could you mean, your highness?' You asked smugly.

'I'm not an idiot, so don't act like I am one.' he said a scowl in his voice. 'I know your after my wife and don't even try to play innocent.'

He said it all with such dignity, such honour. It took everything you had not to laugh.

Clearing your throat you took another step closer to him.

'I didn't have to lift a finger, Stolas.' You told him, arrogance creeping into your voice.

'You had everything one could want. Power. Influence. A family.' You took a moment to shake your head. 'You had the most beautiful, most intelligent, most amazing woman in hell.' You gave a long dramatic sigh. 'And you gave it all up, For what? An Imp?'

Walking forward, you placed a hand on his shoulder. 'I don't have to Act like your an idiot Stolas, you've more then proven it. And now, You've given up your claim to your marraige.' Looking him dead in the eyes and told him, 'Its my turn now.'

Before Stolas could respond the tell-tale sound of silverware clinking of a cart being pushed, drew your attention to its source.

Taking a step back, you addressed the maid pushing the cart 'Thank you so much, if only all imps were so brisk' You told her politely, opening the door.

The Imp pushed the cart between the two of you, into the room. I smirked at the Prince, the Imp walked out of the room, right between us.

'Thank you very much', you told the Imp, giving her a bow. The Imp giggled, giving her own little curtsy before scampering off.

You walked past him, entering the room. 'Now if you'll excuse me, I have to care for a dear friend after all the stress her "Husband" has put her through.' You told him, each word lathered in arrogance.

Before he could respond, you shut the door, perhaps a little to loud. But the satisfaction from slamming the door in that pompous gits face was well worth it.

#helluva boss x reader #helluva boss #headcanon #x reader #helluva boss headcanon #helluva stolas #helluva stella

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headheartbellarke · 3 years

Text

HOME | Charlie Gillespie

Requested by anon: "Hi! If request are open can you do a charlie imagine where him and the reader (she/her) met on a project a while back and have been friends for a while, but the reader kinda had a crappy home life so she gets overwhelmed by charlies family being so loving and perfect and she basically breaks down and feels like she doesn’t fit in and isn’t good enough for him? please and thank you so much, ur writing is amazing!!!"

PAIRING(s): Charlie Gillespie x fem! reader

WARNING(s): mentions of abuse, trauma, anxiety, angst, fluff

WORDS: 2,036

SUMMARY: charlie takes co-star and girlfriend y/n home for christmas but that leads to self doubt in her (im so bad at these) [note: this takes place in 2021]

As Charlie pulls out the key from the ignition, I sigh, wringing my hands nervously. He unbuckles his seatbelt and faces me, giving me a bright, happy smile.

“My family is so excited to meet you.” He says, reaching forward to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

“What if they hate me?” I whisper.

My boyfriend, Charlie, and I first met on the set of Charmed – we were both in the first episode, but I left it after that due to scheduling conflicts with my other show, Chilling Adventures of Sabrina. I had been a part of CAOS since its first episode – I played the role of Sabrina’s cousin, Sarah Spellman.

Back then, we were just friends. After I left Charmed, we would text and call each other occasionally. Whenever we were in the same city, we would meet up – but that was hard considering we both had quite different lives. So, we didn’t think of each other as more than friends – sure I thought that he was attractive, but that’s it.

But, in 2020, after CAOS was cancelled, I got a call from the casting director of Julie and The Phantoms: she was the one who had previously cast me in CAOS, and she believed that I’d be perfect for the role of Julie’s British cousin who joins her school after her parents relocate to LA – I also play Reggie’s love interest.

I texted Charlie immediately after my manager finalized all the details for the new role. He had been excited and when shooting started in 2021, we were pretty inseparable.

After a few weeks, I had developed a major crush on him ad the rest of the cast had also picked up on that. They were also convinced that Charlie liked me (which I didn’t believe at that time but later found out that it was, indeed, true) and they used to tease us about it all the time. Finally, a couple weeks before production ended, he asked me out on a date and it’s been really, really great so far.

We’ve been dating for about nine months now and honestly, he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. He’s my home – all my life I’ve always felt lost, but I feel like I truly belong with him.

Now, he laughs. “Baby. I promise you – they already love you. My mother’s been bugging me to bring you home ever since we started dating, and you’ve already met Megan, and she loves you.”

“If you say so.” I say, still not convinced.

He grins and we get out of his car and face his childhood home. I take a deep breath, shaking off my nerves. He knocks three times on the front door, and it opens immediately after.

A petite, blonde woman steps out, with a wide smile on her face. She opens her arms as Charlie yells, “Mamacita!”

“Mon chéri. Ça fait trop longtemps!”

“Je vous ai manqué!”

I have absolutely no idea what they are saying, but the scene in front of me is so heart-warming. Charlie’s mother is genuinely happy to see her son – one can tell by the way she’s holding him, almost like he’s a little child. Charlie is quite a couple inches taller than her, but he’s nestled his face into her shoulder.

I can’t stop a grin from breaking out on my face. It’s honestly rather lovely. But I also feel a slight pang in my heart knowing that no one ever greets me like this when I go home.

They separate from each other and she squeezes his shoulders, looking at him with so much love that I have to look away. I have never seen a mother look at their child like that, with such intense love. That’s dumb, I know. Mothers are supposed to love their children. But all my mother ever looks at me with is disappointment, anger, disgust, and – you get it.

She notices me next and claps her hands. “You must be Y/N!”

“Hi, Mrs. Gillespie. It’s so nice to meet you!” I extend a hand toward her.

“Aw, come here! You’re gorgeous.”

She pulls me in for a hug too, and for a moment I’m engulfed by the smell of white musk and the feeling of warmth.

We pull apart and I smile at her, genuinely. All my anxiety has washed away.

“My son is always talking about you, about how pretty you are and –”

“Let’s go inside!” Charlie quickly cuts her off, eyes widened as I laugh.

“But I wanna know what he says!”

Mrs Gillespie winks at me as Charlie turns scarlet. “I’ll tell you when he’s gone.”

***

Another roar of laughter erupts around the dinner table.

Honestly, I’ve never seen a family like this – a family so connected, so loving. All of Charlie’s siblings – from his three older brothers to his little sister are here for Christmas Eve, and all of them are teasing each other, telling childhood stories, and just having the best time. I was, too. That was until I suddenly realized how I don’t fit in here.

Everyone here grew up completely different than I did. When I was young, about two years old – my dad left my mom and I for another woman. I haven’t seen him since – although, he sends me a postcard and some money on holidays and birthdays. He’s travelling around the world with his new wife and is apparently ‘happier than he’s ever been.’

The reason he left is because kids ‘freak’ him out and he isn’t ‘ready’ for that kind of responsibility. I mean, it wasn’t like he was fifteen when he had me: he was twenty-seven, and already married to my mother for about two years then.

Naturally, my mother blames me for her divorce. I was born out of an accidental pregnancy, so my mother made sure to remind me every day that I was unwanted, and my birth was what ‘pushed’ him to leave us. Every single day, my mother told me that I shouldn’t have been born, that I was a mistake, that I was worthless, unlovable and so, so many more horrible things. She used to drink like crazy, and if I accidentally faced her in that state, she would sometimes hit me.

Years and years of abuse and all that childhood trauma led me to develop a fear of abandonment, trust issues, intimacy issues, anxiety, and depression. Throughout school, I had been closed off, unable to form relationships and friendships with other people. I had feared anything and everything – I couldn’t even maintain eye contact with people.

Of course, when I auditioned for CAOS and moved away to LA, away from that toxic environment, I got help and turned my life around. (My mother was incredibly happy to see me go since she had married another guy and now has a family with him – so I was the only thing left that reminded her of my father.) I learnt to accept, prioritize, and love myself – but I’m still working on that, of course.

But, I know, deep down, no matter how well I am, or how happy I am – there will always be a part of me that’s broken. I’ve grown to accept that, accept the fact that I’ll always carry the trauma with me.

But Charlie doesn’t. He’s lived a good life, and he deserves someone who can give him their everything – and that’s not me.

As much as I hate to say it, I’m not good enough for him.

He senses a change in my demeanour and squeezes my hand under the table. I give him a weak smile.

***

“Y/N/N, what’s wrong?”

I look up at my boyfriend. He has a look of concern on his face as he takes a seat next to me on the couch.

I sigh into the quiet. Everyone has fallen asleep, except Charlie and I – we are seated in his living room in front of the fireplace.

“Nothing. I’m just really tired.”

“That’s not true, Y/N. You were fine throughout dinner – oh my god, it’s the ice cream, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“The pistachio ice cream that Maman made. It was weirdly bitter, eh? It’s okay, you can tell me.”

I purse my lips. “No, Charlie. The ice cream was great.”

“Are you sure? You’ve been down since desert.”

“It’s not the ice cream, babe.”

“Okay, then, what is it?”

He looks at me expectantly, and I can sense that he’s feeling anxious.

“I just – I realized that I don’t fit in.”

He furrows his brows, but before he can say anything, I start speaking again. “Charlie, you have such a loving and perfect family. And you know how I grew up. What I went through. So, you know that I’m not used to this. I’m not – I’ve never seen love like this in a family, you know. And I don’t fit in here! While your mother was being so nice to me, I kept wondering when she’s going to scream at me. Or when your father was genuinely interested in me, I kept thinking that maybe he’s trying to find a way to get rid of me. It’s just – it’s just the way I grew up, and I’ll always be like this, Char. Your family is so nice, and it shocks me, honestly. And I think that maybe it’s better if you date someone who grew up the way you did, someone who’s like you. Because I have been broken my whole life, and I don’t think that I can give you everything that you need. I don’t think I’m good enough for you. You’re the best person that I’ve ever met, and I think you should be with someone who’s worthy of you.”

I whisper the last part, and feel a teardrop fall into the space between my collarbones. I look down because I’m too afraid of what he might say.

I hear him breathe out heavily and I feel him take my hands in his.

“Don’t you ever say that.”

“But it’s true –”

“Y/N. Don’t you dare doubt yourself. You are good enough. No, you’re perfect. You’re the strongest woman I know. I completely understand why you feel what you’re feeling right now.”

He scoots closer to me and cups my cheeks in his hands. “And it’s okay. It’s okay to feel that way. It’s okay to feel shocked. That doesn’t make you a bad person, nor does it make you not good enough. In fact, it makes all the stronger – you went through so much as a kid, and still, you have space in your heart for me. You know, I never doubt the fact that you love me, ever. Because you always make me feel special, make me feel good about myself and always make sure that I’m happy. You always go out of your way to take care of me, and you always make me feel at home. I don’t want anyone other than you. I love you so much and I never, ever wanna lose you.”

I think I’m fully crying now, as Charlie continues, “It’s okay to feel that way. Take your time. But I’m never leaving you. You’re my person, and you’ll always fit in with me, baby. Always.”

“Charlie…”

I look at him properly, and I can see the pain in his eyes as a tear traces along the curve of his cheek. He sniffs, saying, “I’m sorry. I just can’t imagine being with anyone other than you.”

“Why are you so good to me?” I whisper, my throat still tight from the emotions.

“Because you deserve someone good, and I can only hope that I’m good for you.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his shoulder as a sob escapes my body. “I’m so sorry, baby. So, so sorry.” I keep whispering that, while he rubs my back, saying ‘it’s okay.’

“I love you so much, Charlie. Honestly, thanks for being so good to me. You have no idea what you mean to me.”

I can feel him smile as he says, “I think I have a pretty good idea, yeah.”

***

jatp requests are open <3

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mskatesharma · 3 years

Note

Hey sorry to bother you but I wanted to ask if you could rec some good sources on learning more about Indian Culture/history/customs. Movies books anything really. I have looked online but well, I always take things on the internet with several grains of salt. And considering I know very little on it, I can't say how reliable the information is. I would like to incorporate elements of Kate being Indian when writing about Kate (and Kate and Anthony) going forward and I want to do it in as respectful and accurate a way as I can. For example, I had a thought of Anthony seeing Kate and her fam celebrate Holi and falling in love with how happy and carefree she is and brushing some paint off her cheek before she dunks some pigment onto him or something 1/2

But considering I've never celebrated Holi or seen it celebrated before I don't think I'd do a good job to write it... I know I get annoyed when people get the basic customs and traditions of my culture wrong. Anyway sorry for rambling TLDR: I would like to learn more about Indian culture and idk where to begin so I would be grateful for any direction you can point me at 2/2

so this has taken me a while to answer because i needed to find time to sit down, think about it and answer it properly. it might seem like a somewhat simple question, but to me, at least, it’s complicated? (i’m probably going to be going over stuff you probably already know, but i’m trying to answer in a complete way.)

i need to start off by saying that my family is from north india (gujarat specifically), and because of that, i have a certain level of privilege, including how north indians and north indian culture is portrayed in the media (obviously including bollywood). i mention this because simone ashley is south indian, specifically tamil, and there is so much prejudice against south indians in general, and this obviously extends to how they are depicted and how their culture is shown in various forms of media; colourism (which simone has spoken out about) is just the start of it. (also, as someone who is north indian, i’m not the best placed person to talk about the prejudice and discrimination faced by south indians.)

a big part of why desi fans are so excited about simone’s casting as kate is because she a dark-skinned woc, and typically, dark-skinned women aren’t cast as romantic leads, and they’re not cast in shows anyway, especially when compared to light-skinned woc. so the fact that she’s going to be a lead in one of the biggest shows on netflix is a big.fucking.deal. in addition, they changed her character’s surname from ‘sheffield’ to ‘sharma’, which on the surface seems like a great idea, but if you look a little deeper, there are so many problems to be found.

(this got long so continues below)

sharma is not a generic indian surname; it’s specifically a north indian hindu name, which throws up questions. is kate going to be a hindu on the show? does this mean her family is from north india? are they going to talk about caste on the show because sharma is a brahmin surname? how are they going to explain kate being in england, and being out in society with the upper crust of the british aristocracy? (because of the time that bridgerton is set, and with them specifically setting up kate as indian, i honestly don’t know how they’re going to explain kate’s presence) i honestly think that the show didn’t think too deeply about it and they chose the name sharma because it starts with ‘sh’ and ~sounds indian. however, it’s thrown up so many questions that they can’t ignore, especially because they tried to explain race in the first season.

i talk about all this because you ask about holi, and incorporating elements of kate being indian when writing. and i’m not trying to be mean, but i would maybe hold off altogether? i need to point out that holi is a hindu festival, and is not specifically tied to being indian. i know i mentioned that sharma is a hindu surname, but we don’t even know if kate is going to be hindu, she may be a christian, or another religion or an atheist. also, because simone is tamil, they may decide to have kate be south indian despite the north indian origins of sharma, if they chose to address it at all. and depending on where in india you are from, and your religion, you will celebrate different festivals. even indians of the same religion celebrate different festivals, and some celebrate occasions at different times (e.g. gujaratis celebrate hindu new year the day after diwali. this isn’t the case for most other hindus. if we take holi, i know that it tends to be celebrated more in north india, and the image you describe isn’t necessarily universal).

there has been a lot in the tags regarding clothing, and seeing kate and her family wearing indian clothing, and while i get it, it makes me nervous. personally, i cannot wait to see kate in the same style of dresses that everyone else wore in season one. why? because seeing an indian woman in that period of dress is something i have been longing for. i don’t want to see an indian woman wearing a lengha or a sari or sabyasachi in that time period, i want to see her in a bonnet and empire waistline, because that is something we haven’t seen much of.

also, talking about seeing kate and her family wearing indian clothing has the potential to ‘other’ her, and tbh, can come across sometimes as fetishy, especially when you consider the time the story takes place in, and all the implications of colonialism. (there’s also the fact that unless the show has hired indian costume designers, it would be kinda gross for them to use any kind of indian clothing, and that includes adding elements to the era-typical dress that i’m hoping for.)

i’m going to be honest, i’ve seen pieces of fanart with kate wearing a sari and other indian clothing, while anthony has been in typical regency dress, and it makes me uncomfortable. it gives off coloniser vibes, and that’s a dynamic i have absolutely no interest in. there’s also the fact that i’ve seen art where simone as kate has been shown as light-skinned, to the point where she appears to be the same colour as anthony, and i mean, hello?!

full disclosure, i’ve made some posts regarding headcanons and music that i should have thought twice about. i’ve reblogged stuff that i should have thought more about before i did so. why? because they had overtones of north indian privilege, and/or orientalism. being indian (wherever in india that is) is part of someone’s identity, it’s not a gimmick to sprinkle onto things, and it’s not something to festishise, and i think, at least from what i’ve seen, that is the concern a lot of desi fans have, even if that’s not the intention of the original posters.

i realise i’ve gone on a seemingly massive tangent, but what i’m trying to say is, i don’t think there is a need to specifically reference kate being indian, especially when when writing canon-era fic, even more so when you consider we don’t know how the show is going to address it. now, i’m not saying i have faith in the show when it comes to kate and her ~indian surname, just that until we know how the show addresses it, i don’t see why it needs to be referred to? i understand why one might want to, but i just think there are waaay too many potential pitfalls, and the risk of coming across as orientalist/patronising/fetishy too high. some fans have fears when it comes to kate sharma and how she is presented, and for good reason.

sorry for not answering how you expected, and not giving you the resources you asked for (which, tbh, i’m not sure i would know where to start). i get what you were trying to ask, and i thank you for asking in the first place, but the question felt a little unfair tbh. but, i would encourage to read up on orientalism, also about the privilege that north indian hindus have, and honestly, the british colonisation of india.

ETA: i put this in the reblog but im going to add it here as well

also, something i forgot to add, even though i talk about north indians/north india and south indians/south india, it is obviously more complicated than that. there are many different states in india, and even then, different regions within those states will have different customs to each other. and then you have to factor in religion. likewise, there’s no one language that everyone in india speaks. basically, it’s not one universal culture that can be ‘boiled down to the essentials’.

#kate sharma #kate sheffield #kathony #bridgerton #anthony x kate #kate x anthony #simone ashley #kanthony #if i've got something wrong please PLEASE correct me #also if i've forgot to say something that needs to be said #idk anymore #i am once again wishing they hadn’t tried to explain race during season one #look at all the stuff it’s thrown up #ask

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hopelikethemoon · 4 years

Text

First Words (Javier x Readr) {MTMF}

Tile: First Words Rating: PG Length: 2100 Warnings: Fluff Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set in 1993 after A Dance Owed. Summary: Reader and Javier spend their last day in Laredo and it’s one of firsts.

@grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @beccaplaying @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale @roxypeanut @snivellusim @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts @awesomefandomsunited @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @ah-callie @swhiskeys @exrebelshocktrooper @u-wakatoshii @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @frietiemeloen @arrowswithwifi @cinewhore @random066 @uncomicalhumour @heather-lynn @domino-oh-damn @cyarikaaa @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl @yabby-girl @xqueenofthecraziesx @punkass-potato @coredrive @pascalesque @theduchessofkirkcaldy @queenquazar @sabinemorans @buckstaposition @holkaskrosnou @yespolkadotkitty@seeking-a-great–perhaps @kochamcie @jaime1110 @katlikeme

“She’s gonna say abuelo before she gets either of our names right.” Javier said lightly as he walked in from the back patio, sliding the screen door shut behind him. “Wrapped around his finger.”

“Josie’s fond of her Peña men.” You retorted, glancing up at him for a second before turning your attention back to the tomatillos you had boiling on the stove. “I can’t say I blame her, however—“

Javier arched a brow at you as he walked further into the kitchen, “However?”

“I can’t help but feel like I’m being a little set up here.” You told him, reaching for the spoon and giving the pot a stir.

“I told you I’d help.” He ran his tongue over the front of his teeth as he gave you a look. “But I know you know how to make it.”

“I do know how to make verde. It’s simple.” You retorted, setting the spoon back onto the stone holder on the counter. “But I’ve made this for the two of us, not your extended family.”

You knew Chucho and Javier were just trying to make you feel like part of the family — because you were, but at the same time they’d inadvertently set you up for failure.

“Hey,” Javier said lowly, hooking his finger into the belt loop of your jeans as he drew you away from the boiling pot. “They’ll love it.” He assured you, smoothing his hand down your hip. “You made a good impression at the wedding.”

“I figured the only impression I made was — that poor girl Javier accidentally got knocked up.” You taunted, cocking your head to the side as you looked up at him. “I’ve never had to do the extended family thing.”

“Me neither.” Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth.

You gave him a skeptical look, “You almost married a woman, Javier. You never met Lorraine’s grandparents? Her aunt? A weird uncle?”

He scratched at the back of his neck and glanced downwards, “Touché.”

“That’s what I figured.” You grabbed the dish towel off the counter and swatted him in the thigh with it. “If you’re going to stay in here, get the blender out.”

You’d had a handful of serious relationships in your life, and every time they got remotely close to really serious you’d quickly found a reason to skirt out of it unscathed.

Maybe you didn’t want to admit it aloud, but that was exactly what had happened with Lance too. Except it was paired with the sobering realization that you wanted Javier — who had seemed unattainable.

Who never once gave you the impression that underneath his bachelor veneer, that he could be something like a family man. When you first met him you never would’ve imagined yourself standing in Texas in his father’s kitchen, making salsa verde because his tia was coming over to visit before you went home to Miami.

“Baby, did you remember cilantro?” Javier questioned as he hauled out the blender and plugged it in on the counter by the microwave.

“There are so many knives in this kitchen.” You shot him a look over your shoulder. “And don’t the neighbors have pigs?”

“Ouch.” He feigned injuring, clutching at his chest. “I might have to take my offer to take ownership of the verde off the table.”

“Ha. Ha.” You laughed humorlessly, shutting off the stovetop.

Javier leaned against the counter opposite of you, arms folded across his chest as he watched you work. You could feel his eyes on you as you blended down the sauce in small increments, before pouring them into a bowl to cool.

“You know, they all adored you.” He told you, once you shut off the blender. “Pretty sure they couldn’t figure out what you were doing with me, but that didn’t change that they adored you.”

You smiled at him as you cleaned up the mess you had made, tucking the dirty dishes into the sink, “They’ve all made me feel so welcome. Doesn’t mean I’m not nervous.”

You recognized that some of the kindness was probably pity. You weren’t stupid — you were fully aware of the optics of the situation.

Javier had a history of burnt bridges; a history that his entire family and the whole goddamn town knew about. You and Josie probably looked pretty flammable to them. If only they knew you’d been made flame resistant from all the bridges you’d set alight while standing on them.

They hadn’t seen him in Colombia after Josie was born. They hadn’t been there through the years that mattered.

Chucho was probably the only one who actually believed that you’d still be around next Christmas.

“Just one more night, baby.” Javier reminded you as he crowded in close to you at the sink. “Then we’ll be in Miami.”

You sank back against him and sighed heavily, “I’m looking forward to it being just the three of us again.” You curled your fingers around his arm as he curled them around your waist. “I haven’t spoken to my own brother in years. You can imagine how navigating your extended family feels.”

“You do it so well,” He pressed a kiss to the crook of your neck. “Couldn’t even tell you were nervous.”

You elbowed him in the gut, making him swear as you twisted around in his hold. “Fuck off.” You taunted, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips before slipping away from him. “I’m gonna go see what Josie and Chucho are up to.” You gestured to the cooling dish. “Finish our verde.”

Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth and nodded, “I’ll be out there in a bit.” He told you as you slid the back door open and stepped outside onto the patio.

Laredo was a nice change of pace from Colombia. Wide open spaces and a little peace and quiet. You almost regretted that the three of you would be moving back into an apartment in a few days.

You tried to picture what a younger Javier looked like working on the ranch alongside his father. You’d seen the pictures in frames on the walls, the old high school graduation picture stuck on the side of the fridge alongside the pictures of his cousins and their kids.

It was hard to picture him without the mustache, the worry lines, and the weight of life on his shoulders.

You shielded your eyes from the sun, looking across the yard towards one of the horse paddocks where Chucho had Josie.

You couldn’t picture Javier as a younger man, but you could picture Josie growing up here. Christmases, birthdays, family reunions. Snapshots of life that you couldn’t relate to.

All you wanted was for Josie to have a normal childhood. A happy childhood. Two parents who loved each other, a stable home life, extended family members who cared. You wanted her to have everything you didn’t have growing up.

You never wanted her to worry.

“How are you doing, chica?” Chucho called out as he started back across the yard towards the patio. “You get that verde finished?”

“Javier’s finishing it up.” You answered, hugging your sweater around your middle as you moved to sit down in one of the chairs around the stone fire pit. “How’s Miss Josie?”

“Having the time of her little life.” Chucho bounced her in his arms and she giggled and squealed. “Give it two years and I’ll have her out there on one of my best mares.”

You laughed, holding your arms out to take her as she tried to squirm out of Chucho’s hold to get to you. You could tell she was tired — but she was trying to soldier through it.

“She’ll never want to leave then!” You kissed the top of her head as she flopped against your chest. “You’re going to need a nap before dinner.” You brushed your fingers through her curly hair as she sighed dramatically.

“Javier was a natural in the saddle,” Chucho recalled as he sank down into a chair across from you. He gestured out towards pasture. “Not even two and I had him in the saddle with me, going out to check on the fence line after a storm.”

“You could probably convince me to let her ride when she’s three.” You offered with a short laugh, rocking her in your arms.

“Deal.” He chuckled, adjusting his hat on his head as he sank back in the chair. “You looking forward to the big move?”

You shrugged, “I’m looking forward to being settled. It’ll be good to see our friends again. To get back into a rhythm.”

“Never thought I’d see Javier settled.” Chucho told you, shaking his head slowly. “But it’s a good look on him.”

“He’s a really good father.” You smiled warmly, looking towards the back door, you could just barely see Javier through the glass as he moved across the kitchen. “I know the situation isn’t ideal—“

“No.” Chucho cut you off. “Things happen for a reason. They always do. There’s no such thing as ideal or not. The two of you are good together.”

“Yeah, we are.” You agreed, kissing the top of Josie’s head again. “It’s all just very new for me.” You admitted. “The wedding was a lot.”

“Would’ve gone better if Javier had given his old man a head’s up.”

You felt your cheeks warm, “I know.”

“Everyone was real impressed with you.” Chucho told you, “Javier was worried.”

You frowned, “He was worried?”

“That they wouldn’t welcome you with open arms.”

“Oh.” You had assumed he meant that Javier has been worried that you wouldn’t fit in. But he’d been worried for you. “I really appreciated being included. I mean, I did show up unannounced.”

He waved a hand, “You know what you need?”

“A stiff drink?” You laughed.

“A joint.”

“Excuse me?”

Chucho gave you a look, “You didn’t strike me as a tight ass like Javier.”

“I’m not.” Your brows furrowed together. “Just so we’re clear — you mean a joint joint, right?”

“Is there any other kind?” He questioned as he stood up slowly. “Old age takes its toll on you and I’ve found a bit of marijuana helps take the edge off.”

“I would agree but,” You gestured to Josie. “I’m still breastfeeding her. As tempting as the offer is.” You glanced back towards the house, “Does Javi know?”

Chucho shook his head, “Let’s keep this between the two of us.”

You grinned, “Now I really do feel like part of the family.”

The back door slid open and Javier stepped out onto the patio. “The verde is finished and the blender’s washed and put back up.”

“Look at that,” Chucho clicked his tongue against his teeth. “He cleans too.”

“Funny, pops.” Javier retorted as he strolled over to where you were sitting. “Real funny.”

Josie perked up the second she heard Javier’s voice, scrambling to get out of your arms. “Da-da!”

Javier stopped dead in his tracks, looking between you and Josie. “Did she just—?”

“Can you say it again?” You questioned, smoothing out her curls as you turned her in your arms so that she was reclining back against your chest and facing Javier. “Can you say daddy?”

Javier knelt down in front of you, grinning from ear-to-ear at Josie. “Come on, princesa. You know you want to say it.”

She clapped her hands together, rocking back against your chest. “D-d-d!”

“Say daddy.” You kissed the top of her head.

“Are you going to say daddy, JoJo?” Javier questioned, tapping his finger against her nose as he leaned in to kiss her cheeks. “Say daddy.”

Josie let out a shrill squeal, “Dada!”

You grinned down at him, “Javi!”

“Ha ha ha!” Josie cooed, tilting her head back against your chest to look up at you. “Da da da!”

Javier gave your knee a squeeze as he met your eyes, “Baby, you’re gonna have to pinch me.” He glanced back at his father then, “You hear that pops?”

“I sure did.” Chucho smiled at both of you. “You know, I think I’m gonna take the truck out and check on some work I sent the boys to sort out this week. I’ll be back before they show up.”

“You need any help?”

Chucho shook his head, “You stay right here, Javier.” He gave you a knowing look, before heading back in the house.

“Are we sure she said daddy?” Javier questioned as he scooped her up, cradling her against his chest as she babbled nonsensically.

“I am certain.” You assured him, your heart aching from just how happy you felt. The joy on Javier’s face made everything worth it. The nerves, the worry, the anxiety, the uncertainty. Those two people made it all worth it.

This was the Javier that no one else saw. The Javier that was madly in love with the tiny baby girl that the two of you had brought into the world. The Javier that was looking forward to being a stay-at-home dad.

“Now we’ve got to get you saying mommy.” Javier murmured to Josie as he bounced her in his arms.

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader

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bunnirs · 4 years

Text

Scarlet Crossroads

Chapter 5: Trust

Previous/Next

Scarlet Crossroads Masterlist

For being one phase, it seemed to carry on forever. Sure, you were a patient person, but that didn’t mean you liked doing nothing for such an extended amount of time.

To be honest, you weren’t just doing ‘nothing’. You were running in the woods, your shoes covered in mud, the cold mist hitting you in the face as you took large steps. You were confident in your tracking abilities, knowing that if you somehow lagged behind, you’d find the group quickly. (Not that it would ever happen though.)

That’s why you didn’t hesitate to stick behind with your newfound companions, Leorio and Kurapika, as they trailed behind Gon and Killua.

You must say, their progress was surprising. Neither of them seemed a bit tired, nor worried. It was comforting in a way, their innocence that is. Looking at them could be compared to still water, resting in its permanent tranquility, unbothered by the unforgiveness of the other elements.

You hoped it would forever stay that way, but of course, life is cruel, and so are the people who walk with it. Breaking from your thoughts, you notice that the two pre-teens had wondered ahead, separating themselves from the group, or maybe even someone in particular.

There was no question as to who it was, which made it all the more amusing to you. The magician hadn’t even tried to hide his aura, the lust practically seeping off of him. As to why your brother affiliated with him? That answer remains unknown.

You glance at your comrades, Kurapika and Leorio matching paces, their breathing evening out with each other. As much as the two liked to argue, they sure did match pretty well. It was as if their personalities were made to clash, often butting heads about some small thing that really held no interest to you.

As you listened to the men ahead of you, you almost wanted to scoff. It seems you weren’t the only one pissed off at Hisoka’s advances. The more you glanced at them, the more they stood out to you. They were running in a formation that looked almost thought out, as if they all knew each other. Most likely a gang of some sort.

Whatever the case was, Hisoka got lucky. He’d be able to let loose some of his pent up bloodlust, meaning, he’d maybe calm down for once.

You merely scowled at the thought, knowing that it would never come true. Hisoka didn’t know the definition of calm, well atleast, your definition of it. You knew that these men wouldn’t complete this exam, much less this phase. They wouldn’t even get to go home to whatever families they had, hug their children, wives, whatever they had waiting for them.

But they chose to come here, knowing the consequences behind it. Murder upon contestants was legal, knowing that as long as the examiners were safe, they didn’t care what happened to you. How comforting.

As you watched Hisoka from afar, he seemed to be luring the group into a separate direction, and as much as you’d like to follow him, you had to stick with Leorio and Kurapika.

Minutes felt like hours, and to your dismay, the fog only grew. If it weren’t for your background, you might have fallen for the tricks used by the creatures of Swindlers Swamp.

Speaking of which, it was pathetic watching these men subject to the noises around them. They gave in to their fear, letting their feet guide them to something even greater.

You stopped as soon as Kurapika and Leorio began to slow their pace, almost like they were out of breath.

“What’s up?” You questioned, your feet digging into the mud below you. “Something wrong?”

Leorio cried out in shock, pointing ahead of him. “Of course somethings wrong?! Where’d the other contestants go?!”

Kurapika was wide eyed, watching as something began to move closer.

Your eyes widened, your arm reaching behind you to grab something from your bag when suddenly someone walked past you. They looked to be in a daze, the contestant clearly confused.

As soon as he got close enough to the object, he disappeared with a yelp, causing Kurapika to jump backwards.

It seems you hadn’t been careful enough, and led them right into a trap. Hopefully, by saving everyone’s asses, you could make it up to them.

With that in mind, you rushed forward, shoving the two men behind you just as the ground tore apart.

Large portions of earth were kicked towards you, your arms crossing as you braced for impact. Before they could touch you, you appeared in the air, landing gracefully on your feet, away from the destruction.

Before you stood a Noggin Lugging Tortoise, a monster who used food shaped spikes on their back to lure prey towards it. It was smart, but due to its size, it wouldn’t be fast enough to keep up with you.

You looked back towards Kurapika and Leorio, the other contestants running away from the large monster. How pathetic, but at least they knew they couldn’t win this fight.

You ran to join the duo, standing back to back with them, your eyes tracing the air around you. From what you could tell, three of the monsters had circled around you, all preparing to crush their jaws down on your tiny, fragile, human bodies.

Before they could do that, you rushed forward, pulling a long metal staff from out of your bag. It’s sharp edges gave off a harsh glare from whatever light was exposed, making it look all the more deadly.

It crackled with energy, the engravings turning a deep red, glowing with what seemed to be the power of its owner.

You sprung upwards, the edge of the staff making contact with the brittle skin of the beast, immediately piercing through it. It let out a shriek, trying to shake you off, but it was of no use.

The area you had punctured turned a deep purple, almost as if it was completely out of blood.

That’s when you pulled back, jumping down from your suspended position, your staff spinning in the air as it made it back to your hand.

The large monster fell to the ground, its eyes drooping to a close. It shook the ground as it made contact, almost comparable to that of an earthquake.

You whipped your head around as you heard the shouts of Leorio, who had gotten caught in the mouth of another beast, wood being his savior as it prevented the jaw from closing.

That’s when Kurapika jumped into the air, his wooden blades piercing the monster's eyes, his eyes filled with nothing but worry for his friend.

That’s when you noticed a difference between the two of you. He did it to save his friend, while you, did it to strengthen the trust they held for you. He did it out of selflessness, while you did it for your own confirmation.

You scowled, the staff shrinking in your hand as you stepped forward, catching Leorio as he dropped to the ground, his weight almost taking you off guard.

Kurapika shouted a quick “Let’s go”, before sprinting further into the fog, knowing you’d be close behind.

As you quickly followed his example, you glanced down at Leorio, who seemed to have experienced whiplash. “You alright there, tough guy?”

He blushed at the current predicament, somehow forgetting the large monster that was growling from behind him. “Y-yeah! Of course I’m fine! You can’t really expect that to stop me, can you?!” He huffed, flailing his arms, almost hitting you in the face. “And can you put me down?! A woman isn’t supposed to be holding a man like this, it’ll give someone the wrong idea!”

“Like what? I saved your ass?” You question, your eyes narrowing. “Cause it’s true.” You paused, looking behind you at where the monster used to be. “That fall would have broken a tailbone, which could interfere with the performance of the exam.”

“Well, I didn’t! So, I guess what I’m supposed to say is, thank you! But seriously, put me down!” Leorio complained, sounding almost like a child.

“Alright fine.” You rolled your eyes, dropping him on the ground, his rear making contact with the wet ground. His head shot up at you, a strong glare on his face. “What? You said to put you down.” You smiled, glancing at Kurapika, who seemed to mirror your expression.

“Not like that-“ he groaned, sitting up to wipe off his pants. “Just- whatever! I don’t care! Let’s just go before we really get behind!”

“Right, like we aren’t already.” You muttered, starting to match paces with Kurapika, your eyes trying to read his features.

Kurapika’s own eyes met your gaze, his orbs widening a bit when he noticed you were staring. He bashfully looked forward again, his teeth baring down on eachother.

“Also, are you gonna explain the weird stuff you did back there?! I kinda wanna know who I’m traveling with! You haven’t said a word about yourself, and you expect us to trust you?!” Leorio had caught up, looking at your bag, almost like he was going to rip it from straps that kept it close to your back.

“Leorio, she doesn’t have to say anything if she isn’t interested, not everyone is nosy like you.” Kurapika mumbled. “She saved you from that fall, you should be thankful and leave it at that.”

You chuckled softly, a genuine grin on your face as the boys argued over you. “It’s quite alright actually.” You spoke, your voice clear as day, almost as if water had been released from their ears. “I don’t mind sharing some things.”

“Great! Now, I’ve got a few questions.” Leorio pondered, his eyes trailing your body, a cheeky smile on his lips. “What’s your-“

Before he could finish his sentence, your hand collided with his mouth, clamming it shut.

Ahead of you stood a clearing, Hisoka and the group from before standing in front of each other, a wicked smile on the magician's face.

Shit.

TYSM FOR READING CHAPTER FIVE BABES!!! THIS IS WHERE WE STARTING GETTING INTO IT!!! IM NOT THE BEST WHEN IT COMES TO FIGHTING SCENES, SO I HOPE THIS WENT WELL?? IM HOPING SCARLET CROSSROADS WILL HELP ME GET GOOD AT ACTION SCENES HAHAH!

ANYWAY, THANK YOU ALL FOR BEING SO CONSIDERATE LAST WEEK! I was seriously going through something AND I don’t think It would’ve ended well if It weren't for the HUGE AMOUNT of support I got from you!!! I love you all so much, so please, take my love. If you ever need anything, send me a dm or an ask, I’ll answer it in a heartbeat.

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kyber-kisses · 4 years

Text

Hymn (Part 3)

Winchester Brothers x Sister!reader (platonic)

Wanna start from the beginning? Here is the masterlist!

Warnings: descriptions of violence, cursing, more angst and fluff. (You guys know the drill)

Summary: Y/N Winchester has wrestled with demons ever since her mother died, but when her younger brothers lives are in danger it’s their souls she fights to save, because isn’t that what a big sister should do?

A/N: I am so excited for you guys to read this chapter! I worked really hard on it and i hope yall enjoy! feedback is greatly appreciated!

The stories told are all we know Exchanged in truth and word The photographs are quilted paths From places we've outgrown

It wasn’t the thunder outside that woke you up. It was never the thunder. If anything thunder was soothing to you, even if you were only eight years old. But it was the creak of your bedroom door that roped you in consciousness. The timid voice of your brother moving softly through the space.

“Y/N?”

“What is it Dean?”

“The thunder. It’s too loud.” The small four year old whimpered, jumping slightly when another round rattled the house.

“You wanna sleep in her with me?” You mumbled sleepily, getting your response when you heard small feet quickly move across the carpet before he dove under the covers besides you.

“Why aren’t you scared of it too?”

“Because Im not scared of anything.” Sighing you rolled over, trying to fall back into the middle of the dream you were having.

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Now go to sleep.”

. . . That didn’t happen, because not five minutes later you heard Dean speak up again.

“I can’t sleep. The rains too loud.”

Letting out a groan you rolled over once more, flinging the covers off of you as you slid out of bed. “Come on.” You held out a hand, waiting for Dean to take it.

“Where are we going?”

“On an adventure, what else?”

There was a pause before you felt him latch onto your hand, and then he was sliding out of bed besides you, looking up at you with his big green eyes.

“We gotta be quiet though, okay?”

“Okay.”

You navigated the darkened hallway with ease, Deans hand still gripping yours as you descended the stairs. A flash of lightning lit up the living room as you entered.

“What if we get caught?” Dean whispered, looking back up at you through the dark as the two of you entered the kitchen.

“We won’t. You wanna know why?”

“Why?”

“Because were ninjas.” You smiled, suddenly hoisting your little brother up onto the tabletop. His small legs kicking lazily over the edge as he watched you.

“We are?”

We carry with the friends we make The hearts we mend and break I see it in another way All lives that we have changed

“Uh-huh.” Nodding, you slightly you pushed yourself up onto your tiptoes and reached across the counter for the dented pie tin. Only one slice of apple remained- but that was more than enough. Grabbing that along with two forks you moved back to Dean and pulled out a chair, using it as somewhat of a stool to help you climb up onto the table.

“Do ninjas eat apple pie?”

“I think so. Why wouldn’t they?” You shrugged, lightly tapping your fork against his as you split the piece with your brother. His eyes lit up once again and before you knew it his cheeks were full of apple filling.

Good. Your plan had worked. He wasn’t thinking about the thunder storm anymore.

“Next time can we be cowboys though?” Dean spoke through a mouthful of crust. “I like cowboys better.”

“Sure, as long as I get to be your sidekick.”

“Deal.”

You held out your free hand, pinkie extended. “Pinkie promise?”

“I pinkie promise.” It took him a moment as he juggled with the fork and then his small pinkie wrapped around yours.

“What do you two think you’re doing?”

The sudden and new voice was followed by a click as the light above the table switched on, both of your heads whipping around in surprise.

“Hi, Mama.”

Sure enough standing in the doorway to the kitchen was a very pregnant Mary Winchester, her golden curls falling over her shoulders like a waterfall, her arms crossed.

“I believe it’s past both of your bedtimes the last time I checked?” She mused, her soft and familiar smile crossing over her features as she stepped into the room.

“The thunderstorm was scaring Dean-“

“So she took me on an adventure! Don’t tell Dad!” Dean suddenly blurted, his words slightly muffled by the amount of dessert in his mouth. His eyes widening when he realized how loud he had been.

You watched your mothers eyes narrow before she raised an eyebrow. “Hmm- I won’t tell him. . . As long as you share some of your findings with me.”

You paused to share a look with Dean before he nodded. “I guess we can allow that.”

With that you passed over your fork to your mother, the woman slowly sinking down into the chair you had pulled out earlier. “Now, what type of adventure was it tonight? Pirates? Knights?”

“It’s a secret.”

“A secret? Oh well you can trust me. I’m good at keeping secrets.” Mary whispered back, her elbows on the table as she leaned forward, taking a bite of pie as she did.

Dean was quiet for a moment before he leaned forward. “Ninjas.”

“Ninjas? Oh well that is exciting.” She nodded, the same soft smile from earlier still on her lips. The three of you sat in the kitchen until there was nothing but crumbs in the pie tin and then she was ruffling the hair on both of your heads.

“I think it’s time my little ninjas went off to bed now, isn’t that right?”

You slowly nodded before sliding back onto the floor, the cool tile making your toes curl as you helped Dean down. “Can I sleep in Y/Ns room tonight? The thunders still too loud.”

“As long as it’s okay with your sister.”

You gave him a small nod as you rounded the table, standing on your tiptoes to place a kiss on your mothers cheek. “Goodnight, mama.”

“Goodnight you two.”

Mary’s smile came back as she watched you extended your hand to Dean, his own quickly moving to latch onto your again. “C’mon Dean. Let’s go to bed.” She shifted in her seat so she could rest her forearm on the back of the chair, the two of you darting off silently to the stairs and off to bed. . .

I must go alone Cause I need you there So my memory of home is full

*. *. *. *. *. *.

The force in which you awoke from your sleep was enough to make the chains tethering you to the wall rattle, your head slightly snapping back to collide with the cold metal, the impact making you wince.

“Fuck.” You gave a tired groan as you rolled your shoulders- well at least as best you could. A yawn came shortly after as you allowed your head to rest against the wall. Just a dream. . . Or memory. Dream memory? Was that a thing?

You let out a sigh as you felt your heartbeat slowly begin to find its steady rhythm again, eyes shifting tiredly to the bindings on your wrists and the length of chain that shackled them to the wall. That shackled you to the wall.

Shoot. You forgot about getting yourself thrown in here. . . Then again you did have a hobby for getting on the bad side of your keeper.It was like timeout. . .a very uncomfortable timeout.

Shifting as much as your bindings would allow you tried to get more comfortable. Your butt was numb from sitting in the same position for so long, but there wasn’t really anywhere else to go. You let yourself sink back into your previous position, your arms having lost all feeling awhile ago from hanging for so long.

It wasn’t the first time you had gotten yourself thrown in the cell, and if anything; at this point you were just doing it for the sheer amusement. You had to get your entertainment from somewhere . . . Even if that did mean annoying the hell out of some demons.

The silence that had surrounded you was suddenly broken though when the massive door to the old train car rolled open, light splitting through the darkness as the wheels squealed in their tracks revealing a shadowy mass.

At this point anyone else probably would have screamed and cried or pissed their pants. . . But this was practically just another Tuesday night for you, so you grinned.

“Manah. I thought you were never gonna come visit me. You really shouldn’t leave a gal waiting.”

“And I was hoping by this point in your career you would have known better than to disobey orders.” She tutted, deep red eyes locking onto you tightly.

Career. You huffed with a roll of your eyes. That’s not exactly what you would call it.

The demon in front of you was known by most as Aka-Manah. Birthed from zoroastrian legend she had a knack for controlling others, using them like puppets- like she had been doing to you since what felt like forever. She was the same one that snatched you away from your family, along with a pair of particularly nasty hell hounds. You had the scars to prove it.

Not trying to take my time away Replace the old with new My prison with my reasons right Till I come back to you

You called her the Puppeteer because that’s exactly what she was. She snatched people up from their families and made them do her dirty work. Usually it was children, they were easier to work with. Manah liked to stay in the dark, keep her hands clean. Her acolytes as she called them (you being one of them) were her fighters, her killers. . . And because of it you had so much blood on your hands. innocents and guilty alike. She pulled the strings and you did the dance. You still had your own thoughts and control of your own mind, but it was your body she used. Her finely tuned weapon capable of cutting down anything she wanted gone.

Manah towered above you, tall and long limbed, in a black dress that dropped off her hips and hung loose around her calves, her straight red hair shifted slightly in the breeze coming from outside as she moved to pull at the silk gloves around her hands. She seemed annoyed. . . Angry even. After years you knew how to read her.

A smirk crossed your lips as you tilted your head slightly. “Aw, are my baby brothers causing you and your demons trouble again?” You knew you hit your mark when her jaw clenched. Of course you knew your brothers were still out there, whispers of the famed Winchester brothers passed through thin lips often around here. Manah wasn’t fond of them, they killed so many of her demons that she often took it out on you. This was gonna be one of those times.

Your words got you a harsh slap across the cheek before she knelt down in front of you, your cheeks squeezed between her thumb and forefinger. “You best hold your tongue. I got a job for you.”

“What kind of job? Because like I’ve said a thousand times over you vile skank; I’m done doing your dirty work.”

She squeezed harder much to your irritation. “Oh you know that’s not true. You, my darling Y/N, are my swift and terrible sword. . . And you are far from done.” Using her free hand she fished into the pocket of her dress, producing a thin silver chain, a rams head charm hanging from the center.

Your face fell along with your shoulders as you shook your head. “No. Please don’t.”

Manah ignored you, snapping the necklace around your neck. It was her way of controlling you, as long as the necklace stayed on she held power over your body. You couldn’t take it off yourself, the magic it was laced with prevented it.

“Now, it’s time we got those pesky siblings of yours off the playing field, don’t you think? You’ve constantly asked me to allow you to go back to you family, well here’s your chance darling.”

That’s all it took for you to realize what she was doing. She was sending you after your brothers, and Manah didn’t take prisoners.

Now I must go alone Cause I need you there So my memory of home is full

SPN Taglist:

@familybusinesswritingbro@a–1–1–3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @music-is-all-i-need @agusdoti @callmekda @jordangdelacruz @orphiceseum @andthatsmyworld @marvelfangirllll @fandomnerdespressourself @gladiosamicitias @castielsangelsx @lxstgxrl-ck @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit @amendoise @phoenixuprisingsstuff @ericalynne007 @kaitlaitlaitl @totallyluciferr @supernaturalenchanted @dolanfivsosxox@supernatural-ocs @emptycanvasposts @akshi8278 @defenderrosetyler @heyyy-hey-babyyy @idksupernatural @vicmc624 @all-will-be-well-love@busy-bee-angel-misska @starsandmidnightblue @lilulo-12fanfiction @beanie-beebo @xoxoaudreymarie @greenarrowhead @mrsjenniferwinchester @mysticalfuncollectorus @brebolin @biahblue @noahandthegiraffe

HYMN Taglist:

@biahblue @brebolin @noahandthegiraffe @psych0crybaby @beetears @supernaturalenchanted @skyelikestowrite @leej2468 @vicmc624 @let-me-luve-you @lilwinchester67

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester series #dean winchester x sister!reader #Sam Winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester series #sam winchester x sister!reader #SPN #spn x reader #bi-danvers writing

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homeforchristmas-au · 4 years

Text

Character bios pt 2!!

Decided to continue the bios for the rest of the fam squad, the full extended family!! Might change things around a bit, we’ll see!!! Here’s part one in case you missed it :3

Emile Sanders (formerly Picani):

Age: 46

Pronouns: he/him/they/them

Height: 6’1”

Curly medium golden mahogany brown hair and sky blue eyes, subtly tanned skin covered in freckles, red framed rounded glasses, likes dressing like a cartoon character or just wearing cartoon merch (his prized possession is his Mabel pines jumper) but wears a brown cardigan over a white button down shirt with a pink necktie when he goes to work

A big goofball that has a lot of love to give, but he still knows when to be more subdued and calm and when to activate “serious picani”. He’s always loved helping people work through their issues which is why he’s a therapist

Like patton, he’s excellent at reading emotions, though he’s a bit better at it since he’s a professional

Has ADHD, but has developed the necessary coping skills to help keep his symptoms under control

Has two siblings; Catarina (Patton’s mother) and Leonard (Patton’s other uncle). Emile is the baby of the family while Leonard is the oldest

Emile met Thomas when they were both in college. They shared an ASL class and quickly began getting along, and frequently practiced sign language together and feelings developed from there

It was quite some time before they got married, but it was well worth the wait

Thomas Sanders:

Age: 43

Pronouns: he/him

Height: 5’10”

The standard character Thomas look; floppy medium brown hair, chestnut eyes, fair skinned, wears the same three shirts periodically for five years until he buys three new shirts, the usual stuff

He’s a sweet, down to earth guy. Loves cartoons almost as much as Emile does, has a passion for pizza, theatre, and the cats of the world he’ll never be able to pet without dying. He can be impulsive at times, but his heightened anxiety oftentimes outweighs that

Has three brothers named Christian, Patrick, and Shea, but I won’t describe them in depth cos I don’t wanna get any facts wrong since this is based on Thomas himself oop-

I’m literally just describing the canon character Thomas except slightly older im-

There’s like nothing else to add to make this fun and unique it’s just character Thomas welp

Thomas and Emile’s kids:

Anton Sanders:

Age: 16

Pronouns: any/all

Height: idk uh ??? 5’7” ???

Medium length wavy black hair, electric blue eyes, fair skinned with a beauty mark on his right cheek beneath his eye, usually wears fashionable clothes and declares himself an eleven, often wears scarves and turtlenecks (almost exclusively black) as well as his round mirrored sunglasses

Can and will kill you with a single look. Especially if you mess with his family. He’ll never admit it but he loves them with everything he’s got, even if he never acts like it for even a moment

Especially adores Remy and respects that they’re discovering themself and exploring new possibilities. He knows from experience how tough that is and how much of a challenge it can be

Was adopted at age three after his parents were busted for child abuse and heavy drug addiction. It took quite some time for him to come out of his shell but Emile and Thomas were nothing but patient and loving and kind. He still has a lot of trust issues but he knows he can trust his family

Will never admit it now but became insanely jealous when remy was adopted into the family. He did not want a brother because he knew that meant he was being replaced and he wasn’t loved anymore

Eventually Thomas and Emile sat him down and they all talked through it and assured Anton that he was still loved and he was not being replaced

It still took a very long time for Anton to trust Remy, even if he was only a baby

His heart was won over when Remy said his first word to him

All he said was “no” but Anton admired his defiant spirit

also yes this is the Critic how did u know

Remy Sanders:

Age: 12 (birthday January 16)

Pronouns: he/him/they/them/it/its

Height: damnit how tall are 12 year olds

Shoulder length hair dyed dark purple at the roots that fades into magenta at the ends (hair colour changes periodically depending on what it feels like having), chocolate brown eyes, fairly dark skinned but not heavily so, gender expression changes at the drop of a hat but it often wears leather, skirts, beanies, and a heck ton of earrings (when it turns eighteen it starts getting a lot of different piercings like angel bites, nostril, and industrial piercings, etc) (that’s worth noting)

Almost always sarcastic but that’s its way of showing love really. It’s a helluva punk that can and will fight anyone to the death if they deserve it (or if they hurt someone Remy likes). It’s actually a huge nerd but doesnt usually show that side of itself. It loves reading, watching shows like doctor who, and doing puzzles with Logan

Was diagnosed with adhd after Emile noticed it experienced similar symptoms for quite a while

Was adopted by Thomas and Emile when it was a baby (and Anton was four), having been found by Emile when it was left in a box in an alleyway, which was a long and complicated process but one hundred percent worth it

It has a trio of male rats named Holmes, Watson, and Splinter. Thomas was a bit reluctant to let it adopt rats but they all went to a rat breeder and when Thomas saw them all and even held one he realised it wasn’t so bad and they were actually kinda cute

When it was nine years old, it nearly died in a nasty hit and run. A truck had swerved into it when it was by the side of the road. It was fine after a lengthy recovery except it had to use a wheelchair after some spinal cord damage left it immobilised from the waist down. The driver was never identified

It probably wasn’t a coincidence that this event occurred not long after remy started talking about how much it loved boys just as much as it loved girls, but that teas a bit too hot for this post

Logan’s sisters:

Ellen Adams-Waterson:

Age: 26

Pronouns: she/her

Height: 5’6”

Light auburn hair going just barely past the shoulders, honey eyes, fair skinned though mildly tanned, covered from head to toe with freckles, red framed rectangular glasses, usually wears clothes for comfort and especially likes turtlenecks

She’s a determined, steadfast kinda gal who fights for whats right and gives everything she has for her loved ones, especially her immediate family. Although she can be pretty blunt with her words she’s also kindhearted and wants whats best for everyone

She’s an avid writer, and has actually published a novel. She also dabbles in fanfiction and is unashamed about it

She’s married to a wonderful wife named Elizabeth and they have a daughter named Kaylee (15)

She’s also been trying to quit smoking but so far that has yielded no results

Ashley Fletcher (formerly Adams):

Age: 24

Pronouns: she/her

Height: 5’10”

Long light ash brown hair that reaches her tailbone that she keeps parted to the right, electric blue eyes, fair skinned and a face full of freckles, black rectangular glasses, tries to be fashion forward but mostly just wears T-shirts and denim jackets

She’s a trans woman and has been transitioning for a few years now with lots of support from her family. She’s a nice person but let’s people walk all over her a bit. She doesn’t like confrontation much because of her anxiety disorder, but she’s trying to get better with that

Loves acting and wants to pursue it as a career, but her anxiety makes it difficult to put herself out there

Married to a trans man named warren and they have a son named jack (11) and a daughter named Emma (6)

She met warren at a pride event with Logan and Patton, and it was actually Patton who met him first (although at the time he went by a different name and didnt know he was trans yet) and then introduced him to the others

They actually talked about adopting a child long before even considering marriage. Although they realised it would look better to adoption agencies if they were married, and that was the main reason they even went through all of that

Renae Adams:

Age: 21

Pronouns: she/her/he/him

Height: 6’8”

Short wavy hair dyed bright pink, amber eyes, fair skinned, a black *dabs* styling pair of Warby Parker’s, often wears high neck shirts and suit jackets, basically always business casual because she can, and loves wearing hoop earrings

There are two sides to Renae; either stone cold businessperson or happy go lucky memelord with a heart of gold. She’s a lot like Logan in that regard, although it’s harder to predict what side of her you’ll see at any given moment. She can either be a super soft bean or the scariest person on the planet

Has been dealing with OCD her whole life, and sometimes it gets particularly bad (especially the intrusive thoughts) but she has a therapist and psychiatrist she sees somewhat regularly

She runs her own coffee shop called Real Bean Café and it does fairly well. She’s always thinking about how she can improve her business

She’s aroace so she isn’t in a romantic relationship but she is in a queerplatonic relationship with a beautiful enby named Pigeon

They actually met in her coffeeshop. Renae saw Pigeon’s Attack on Titan T-shirt and was immediately compelled to talk to them

And that is it for part two of the character bios!!! Might make another post talking about Logan’s sisters’ kids and partners but idk we’ll see 👀

I just really like character designs man lmao

Lemme know if I need to tag anything else my brain box isn’t generating the required tags rn lmao

#ts home for christmas #thomas sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides au #thomile #thomas x picani #thomas x emile #emile picani #adhd picani #adhd emile #character thomas #remy sanders #critic sanders #it/its use #car accident mention #hit and run mention #injury mention #ocd mention #long post

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just-my-fandom · 5 years

Text

Putting It Off (Tony Stark x Wife! Reader)

Request; May I have a Tony Stark x wife Reader? Its after the snap at they have two children, a boy and a girl with Tonys parents names and its just them being a happy family and time skip to his funeral the reader comforts her children and Tony leaves a message for them?

Tonys parents names, the children, are named Howard and Maria

My spring allergies kicked in and let me tell you, I am SUFFERING

_________________________________

"Alright, Thing One and Thing Two, lunch is ready,"

Tony groans as he squats down in front of the make shift tent, the loud giggles of the two children inside bringing a smile to his face,

"Daddy!" A little boy with Tony's dark hair and his mothers eyes jumps out, face conjuring fake fear, "Iron Mans come to get me!"

"Say what? Im right here!" Tony furrows his eyebrows, Howard turning and pointing at the tent,

"No, Iron Mans evil sidekick! Iron girl!"

A child like roar echoes from the tent, Tony raising an eyebrow when a little girl stumbles out, Tony's helmet sliding on her head for it being too big,

"Whoa Whoa, what are you doing with that?" Tony lifts up the girl, her giggles loud as he lifts the helmet off her head, revealing (hair/Color) locks and light brown eyes,

"I was being a super hero papa, just like you," Maria wraps her tiny arms around Tonys neck, allowing him to kiss her cheek,

"Yeah well, I'm done being a super hero for now. Maybe when the helmet is big enough to fit your head you can be Iron Girl,"

Howard pouts, taking Tonys hand as Tony led him towards the house,

"What about me? Will I be a super hero?"

Tony looks down at him, helping him up the steps to the porch,

"One day. You can only dream so big,"

You step out of the house, holding open the screen door so Howard could run inside, and you pull Maria from Tonys arms, smiling at the man,

"I didn't dream big, and look where that got me," You peck Tonys lips, Tony winking,

"You just got lucky,"

"Who's that?" Maria's question has you looking over Tonys shoulder, the man turning at a car pulling up,

Tonys arm slides to your lower back, and his eyes follow as Steve, Natasha, and Scott all stepped out of the black car,

"Why don't you go inside and help Howard with the drinks?" You set Maria on her feet, watching her tug the door open and rush inside,

"Long time no see," Tony greets, the group of three walking up to the porch,

"We think we figured it out," Steve says blankly, your eyes meeting his as you frown,

"Figured what out?"

"We might be able to bring everyone back," Scott says almost too excitedly, watching you and Tony share glances,

"Great. Why show up here?" Tony asks, and Natasha frowns,

"We need your help, Tony,"

Tony clicks his tongue, "Well I dont want to help and possibly fuck everything up with Thanos. Im perfectly happy where I am. I have two kids for christs sake,"

"Why don't," You put a hand to Tonys chest, noticing his anger slowly building up, "You guys come in for lunch and we talk this through? I dont mind making extra sandwiches,"

Tony meets your eye's, questioning you, but you only flick your eyebrows at him and open the screen door,

. . . . . . .

"Maybe you should do it,"

Tony looks up at you, rolling on a clean tee shirt as you step into shorts,

"Do what?" He asks, and you raise your eyebrows, stepping up to him so you could slide your arms around his shoulders, hands pressing to the back of his neck and his hair,

"The whole time travel thing," You lean forward, kissing his jaw, "Up to this day you've been beating yourself up over Peter, and now that you have a chance to bring him back you're avoiding,"

Tonys fingers press into your upper waist, tilting his head down to press his lips to your temple,

"Plus," You look up at the man, allowing him to reach forward and capture your lips warmly, "He would love to meet Howard and Maria,"

"Exactly," Tony closes his eyes, forehead bumping yours as his thumbs draw circles on your hips, "If we go back in time we could mess it up to where Howard and Maria arent even born,"

"Tony," You slide your hands to his face, directing his eyes to meet yours, "You have to try. Please,"

A moment of silence, and Tony sighs, nodding, "Okay," He breathes, "I'll let Steve know in the morning,"

A loud giggle and shushing causes you to pull back from your husband, looking over in time to see a flurry of hair rush past the door,

"Maria (M/N) Stark, come here," You tip toe to the door, sliding into the hallway and lifting up your daughter, who shrieks and giggles,

"Where's your brother? Huh? Tell me," You press kisses to Marias cheek, her tiny hands pressing to your face to push you away,

"I got him!" Tony playfully roars, tackling the youngest Stark son onto the bed and you grin, tossing Maria across the bed so Tony could catch her,

Howard stands up on your mattress and bounces, yelping when you tug at his legs and pull, causing the child to land on his back and laugh with glee,

Tonys eyes look down at his daughter, who slowly calmed as she eased into her fathers arms, then he looks up, watching you sink onto your bed and pull Howard into your lap,

He really wanted to bring Peter back. But was he willing to risk the three loves of his life for something he wasnt a hundred percent sure was going to happen?

. . . . . . .

"Mama?" You look down, kneeling so you were eye to eye with the brown orbs that brought tears to your own,

"What is it, sweetheart?" You brush a hand through Maria's hair, hand cupping the side of her face,

"Where's papa?" She whimpers, doing her little head tilt as she blinks,

"Papa's um," You swallow, and pull her forward so she was against your shoulder, "Papa's not going to be coming home any time soon,"

"Why? Is he at work?" Maria asks, biting her thumb nail like she has done since her toddler years,

"Yeah," You kiss the side of Marias head, blinking away tears, "Papas at work,"

You stand up, heaving Maria into your arms, and look around at the crowds that stayed for Tonys funeral,

"Wheres your brother?" You ask softly, walking up the porch to your home,

"With Happy," Maria answers, arms at your neck as she lets her eyes drift in the distance,

"Hey, Y/N," Happy steps out of the screen door, Howard in one arm, "Tony left you something. You and the kids should come see this,"

Everyone is gathered around in the living room by now, eyes looking at you as you swallow, sitting down at the couch with both kids at your sides,

Howard grasps at your shirt, leaning into your arm as he looks at his twin sister, then to where Happy sat Tonys helmet in the living room floor,

A hologram comes up, causing both kids to jump, but then Maria giggles and extends a hand to the hologram of Tony,

"Papa!"

The hologram doesnt respond, stepping back from the camera to show his full body, and he clears his throat, eyes looking off to the side,

"I dont know why I let you convince me to go back in time," Tony chuckles, finger rolling his wedding ring as he coughs into his fist, "Y/N, I remember the first day we met. We were at the lab together and you found a mistake I made in my suit and completed it,"

You smile at the memory, Tony was just a man you met at the labs, frustrated that his suit wouldnt power on. You found a wire out of place and when the suit turned on, he offered to buy you dinner,

"From that dinner date on, you helped me through anxiety attacks, through the struggles of threats," Tony rolls his shoulders, "Meeting Harley and Peter and treating them as my own kids; I suggested to you about kids, since we were already married,"

You look over your shoulder, Peter and Harley glancing at one another and sharing weak smiles,

"When you said you were pregnant with the twins," Tonys hologram laughs softly, "I felt like I didnt deserve it. You are such an independent young woman, that I didnt deserve. But you gave me two beautiful children that you allowed to name after my parents,"

The hologram moves forward, eyes unexpectedly meeting yours, "I love you so much, Y/N M/N Stark. If anything is to happen, take care of my four kids,"

Tony winks, blowing you a kiss and waving to the twins before the hologram vanishes,

When people began to leave and Howard and Maria went for cheeseburgers with Happy, you run your hands down your black dress, exhaling deeply as you walked up to two teenagers,

"You both know Tony cared for you, right?"

Harley sets down his glass of water, pressing his lips together and nodding, "I honestly thought he forgot about me," He shoves his hands into his suits pockets, looking down,

His hands instantly slide back out when you pull him forward, squeezing him with reassurance as his own arms slid to your back, accepting your embrace,

"He doesnt forget anyone," You murmur, and look at Peter, cupping his face then pulling him to your chest,

"You both knew him best," You tell the two, looking from Peter to Harley, "I want you to still be apart of Howard and Marias lives, just because Tony isnt here doesnt mean you arent part of the family anymore,"

"Thanks, Y/N," Peter smiles, Harley nodding as he mumbles a thanks, and you smile, stepping back and waiting for your house to empty so you could drown in your own tears in one of Tonys shirts and the hologram on replay

#tony stark imagine #tony stark x reader #tonyxpeter #tony stark #peter parker x stark reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x sister reader #peter parker x reader #harley keener imagine #harley keener x reader #harley keener

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years

Note

would you ever do a shelby sister x alfie with shelby sister tricking Alfie into doing something with horses with her? I feel like we already know Alfie would be so awkward and chaotic around horses but the good kind of awkward and chaotic

It had been quite the day when Alfie Solomons bumped into Margaret Shelby.

“Me brothers told me not to talk to you, Mr. Solomons. They said you were dangerous.”

“Yeah? Well, I were told you Shelbys are dangerous too. So which of us is really in trouble?”

They both were. Mostly because they fell hard for each other within a few days. Both of them were instantly in trouble one Margaret’s brothers found out.

Arthur’s face turned a nasty shade of reddish-purple, John was cursing up a storm, and Tommy was glaring silently at Alfie. But it didn’t matter what they did. Their sister wouldn’t give Alfie up.

It caused quite the rift in the family until Polly had enough of the childish bickering and demanded everyone get along or she’d start treating them the age they were acting. Which was about three to five years old.

Begrudgingly, they all agreed and played nice. The first olive branch was extended to Alfie, inviting him along to watch their horse race. Alfie wouldn’t say no. Margaret was far too excited to bring him along. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous.

~~~~~~~~~~

In their private box, the Shelbys chatted with other wealthy members of British high society. Alfie stuck by Margaret, feeling a little out of place. Sure, he ran a big chunk of the racetracks in the country but that didn’t mean he was a regular at the events. He liked to be more behind the scenes rather than out front and center, schmoozing with the elite.

“Stay here, I’ll be back.” Margaret set down her drink and went for the door.

“Wait, hang on, where ya going?” Alfie followed her.

“I’ll only be a mo’.”

“Can I go with you? Arthur still hasn’t stopped giving me the evil eye.” Alfie mumbled under his breath.

Margaret glanced around him. In fact, her eldest brother was staring daggers at her beau. “Alright, c’mon.” She took his hand.

The two went into the next building beside the track. It smelled distinctly of hay and horse droppings. The scent made Alfie’s nose wrinkle but Margaret seemed to fit right in, despite her fancy dress.

“I want to see our horse before he goes out.” She tugged him down the stables’ aisle before stopping at a stall with the Shelby name labeling it. “There he is. Hello, May.”

The woman smiled when she saw Margaret leaning over the stable door. “I was wondering when you were going to come give him some luck.”

“How’d he run today?”

“Like a dream.” May patted the gray’s neck. “C’mon in, I’m going to grab his tack.” She headed out of the stall and down into the tack room.

Margaret stepped inside. “Alfie, come say hello.”

Alfie kept his distance with his hands in his pockets. “Erm, I can see ‘im fine from here.”

“Don’t be silly, he’s harmless.” She smoothed her hand over the horse’s neck. His coat was shiny from being groomed to perfection. A Shelby horse never went out looking dirty.

Alfie took a few cautious steps forward. “Big fucker, ain’t he?”

“He’s only sixteen hands.” She giggled softly. “I’ve ridden horses bigger than him.”

“Blows me mind that you’re not afraid of these beasts.” He shook his head.

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Afraid of them?” She rested her cheek against the gelding’s shoulder.

Alfie scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Ain’t afraid of anything, love.”

“Come pet him then.”

He frowned. “He ain’t gonna bite me hand off, is he?”

Margaret laughed and beckoned him over. “He won’t do anything.”

Alfie walked over and let her take his hand. She gently guided it to pat the horse’s cheek.

“His name is Hermes.” She told him, letting go of his hand.

“Like the god?”

“No, it’s a brand of handbags. They’re expensive.” She shrugged.

Alfie chuckled and felt himself relax a little near the horse. “You Shelbys and your expensive things. Clothes, cars, horses, handbags.”

“Men,” Margaret added to the list with a cheeky look.

“Men? You talking ‘bout me? I’m expensive?”

She giggled and leaned over the stall door to kiss him. “You’re priceless, Alfie Solomons.” She murmured against his lips.

Alfie was so taken by her that he hardly realized Hermes was trying to chew on his collar. When the horse snorted, he jumped back in alarm. “Oi, told ya he was tryna get a chunk outta me.”

Margaret laughed and rubbed Hermes’s nose. “Naughty boy, I’ll have a snack for you after you win the race.” She cooed.

“Fucking knew they were dangerous,” Alfie grumbled.

“Oh, hush, they’re just big dogs.” Margaret kissed Hermes’ nose and stepped out of the stalls. “C’mon, you.” She took his hand again.

“Tryna gouge me eye out.” He mumbled. “Bet your brother taught ‘im to do that.”

Margaret just rolled her eyes and led the man back up to the box.

#ugly crying asks

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astralshipper · 5 years

Text

I’m not great with wedding stuff. I’ve been to one wedding ceremony that I fully remember, and that was a very.... southern kind of wedding that I don’t think Sam and Astrael would rlly enjoy.... so here’s some after wedding stuff!!

Pairing: Sam x Astrael

Word count: 2,337 (IM SORRY I DIDN’T MEAN FOR IT TO BE THIS LONG!!!)

The song used is Grow As We Go by Ben Platt, which I always say is the sam/astrael song!! it’s rlly good and makes me SOB so go listen to it if u don’t know what it is!!

Astra ducked out the back door of the building, leaving the bustling reception behind with a relieved sigh. It’s not that she wasn’t grateful for her friends and family coming to support her, it was more an issue of just wanting some alone time. The cool night air caressed her skin as she made her way to the balcony’s railing. She leaned against the concrete half wall and allowed her eyes to flutter shut. The fabric of her dress ruffled against the wind around her legs.

The sounds behind her grew louder momentarily as the door opened, only to lower back down with the click of the door closing. Astra didn’t even have to turn to know who had just joined her. Within seconds, a pair of arms wrapped around her waist and her head tucked underneath his chin. A wave of relief crashed over her as soon as the familiar scent hit her nose. Though he had clearly gone all out tonight with the aromatic scent of cologne dusting his suit, the classic smell of Sam still lie just beneath. She could still pick up on the hints of coffee and old books that clung to his skin and lulled her to a relaxed state each night as she curled up in his embrace.

His grip on her tightened as she melted into his hold. The tension in her shoulders dropped and she exhaled a long breath that she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her hands moved to rest atop Sam’s arms around her waist. Her head turned on instinct to nuzzle her nose into the fabric of his shirt.

Sam bent a bit so he could press a soft kiss to Astrael’s temple. His lips lingered in that place for a few seconds, just letting the moment wash over the pair of them. This was the kind of calm they wish they could feel every day, the kind of contentment they longed for in the midst of the constant chaos that they called life.

Astra twisted in her newly wed husband’s grip so they could face one another. Her hands pressed against his chest as she peered up at him, hazel meeting hazel in a moment of pure adoration. “I’m in love with you, Sam,” she whispered into the night. Her voice was just barely audible as the wind carried the cadence to his ears. A soft smile spread across his face, one that caused the dimples Astrael loved so much to deepen.

He leaned down once more, and this time he pressed their lips together in a true kiss. Astra’s arms looped around his neck in an attempt to tug him impossibly closer. Even after the pair pulled away, they remained against each other as much as possible.

Astra took a moment to take in the sight of Sam after a day of being pampered and complimented. The smile on his face seemed brighter than ever. His eyes sparkled with a contented glint he did not often get to bear. His tuxedo jacket had long since been discarded, likely laying over the back of one of the chairs back in the reception room. His bow tie hung undone around his neck, one side reaching down just a bit more than the other. The top few buttons of his shirt were also unbuttoned and allowed the edges of his anti-possession tattoo to peek out from beneath the fabric. Before the movement could even register in her mind, Astrael’s fingertips were already carefully tracing over the ink with a feather light touch. She raised up on her toes just a bit so she could press her lips to the flame design surrounding the pentagram.

The pair held each other in silence for a brief moment before the speakers inside switched to the next song. The familiar guitar finger picking seeped out from underneath the door and between the cracks, allowing the hunter and the fallen angel to pick up on the melody. By the time the words kicked in, Astrael had already tilted her head up to give Sam a small smile.

You say there’s so much you don’t know You need to go and find yourself You say you’d rather be alone ‘Cause you think you won’t find it tied to someone else

Sam returned her expression and took a step back, holding one arm behind his back and the other out towards her. He bent over in a bow. “Mind if I have this dance?”

Astra gladly placed her hand in his own. “No one I’d rather dance with.”

The hunter stands to his full height once more and loops his free arm around her waist. Astra places her hand on his chest, fingers curling over the top of his shoulder in a steady grip. Sam recognized her insistence to stand on the tips of her toes, and let out a low chuckle.

“Stand on my feet,” he invited. Astra’s brows furrowed.

“Are you crazy? No! I’ll hurt you!”

Sam raised a brow in a challenging manner. “Angel, with the shit I’ve dealt with, having you stand on my feet so we can dance is basically a spa day.”

The mumbled words that came from Astra’s mouth were inaudible, but she decided to take his offer anyways and stepped up onto his feet. She waited for him to flinch, wince, shift with discomfort, anything. He simply smiled and leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead.

He pulled her carefully into his chest, the arm around her waist trailing up to rest against the back of her head. Her head lay on his chest, eyes fluttering shut with utter contentment. Never before had she felt safer or happier than in that moment, tucked under the chin of the love of her life, swaying softly to their song. Sam’s eyes shut of the same accord, his jaw clenched in an effort to fight back the tears he had only let spill twice tonight. Once again the burning sensation pricked at his eyes and nose.

You don’t ever have to leave, if to change is what you need You can change right next to me When you’re high I’ll take the lows You can ebb and I can flow And we’ll take it slow And grow as we go

All the time they’d spent together, the years they’d fought side by side, the losses they’d faced hand in hand, all of it built up to this moment. And now, all of it seemed worth it. Astra’s grip on his dress shirt tightened as her hand balled into a fist. She pressed ever closer to him, as if possibly they could form one being and she would never have to let him go.

Feeling this shift, Sam took in a shaky breath and tightened his hold as well. He tilted his head down so he could bury his face in her hair, which had long since fallen out of the intricate up do that Claire, Jo, and Alex had all worked on together, looked over by Jody who had to step in quite a few times. Sam’s lips pressed against the crown of her head, where only mere hours ago there sat a veil that resembled an angel’s halo, raised just above her head by about half an inch to give the effect of it hovering on its own. But that wasn’t necessary to remind him of her celestial background. Also unnecessary for this were the lace designs depicting angel wings sewn into the back of her wedding dress. Both were small, cute little additions that Astra was head over heels excited about, but they weren’t what was important to him.

He knew she was an angel every day. That’s why he called her that so often. After the fall, Astra began telling him that she wasn’t really an angel anymore, that she was useless and shouldn’t have that term of endearment anymore. Sam refused every single time. It wasn’t her grace that made her an angel, it wasn’t her wings or her abilities, it was just her.

The woman in his arms turned her head so she could nuzzle her nose into his neck. Once again, she felt herself drift off in the smell of Sam. All she could feel was calm. This was the one place she felt like she could fit in, this was her home. Not Heaven, not the bunker, not the Impala, but Sam. She didn’t need her wings or her grace, she didn’t need a huge house with a white picket fence. All she really needed was her family around her. Sam, Dean, Cas, Jack.... that’s it.

The song drifted out as the final note was struck, but the couple made no immediate moves to separate. It seemed that in that moment, the reality of the day just came crashing down upon them. Astrael didn’t realize the tears making their way down her own cheeks until she felt Sam’s tears soaking into the hair atop her head.

They finally pulled back just enough to look each other in the eye. Streaks of tears lined both of their faces and their eyes were red rimmed, but their bright smiles were more genuine than ever. Sam’s hands shifted so he was cupping her face in both hands. Astra’s moved to grip at the front of his shirt.

He leaned down towards her, only to stop just a hair’s width away from her lips. “I love you, Mrs. Winchester,” he whispered against her skin.

Astra’s breath hitched at the name, only to be exhaled in a shaky sigh. Her nerves set alight with him so close, yet so far, and the fire in her stomach from his words pushed a small squeak from between her lips. Her neck extended as far as she could in an attempt to connect their lips, but Sam simply moved backwards with her to keep them just barely apart.

Her finger’s fidgeted with the fabric between them. “I love you too, Mr. Winchester,” she managed to reply, voice wobbly and cracking with emotion. A flash of a pearly white smile preceded the final push forward, and Sam finally allowed their lips to connect. Astra’s arms flew up around his neck as his wound around her waist, picking her up just slightly to bring her closer to him.

A little over an hour later, people would begin exchanging goodbyes. Hugs and tears would be shared, congratulations given, and promises to visit soon agreed to under very insistent pointed fingers. The reception room would fall silent and all that would be left was the same five people that there always was. The newly wed couple remains as close as possible all night. The brother in-law pokes fun at the pair ceaselessly, though his pride for his little brother shines bright in his eyes. The raven haired angel, who for this one day caved in and arrived to the ceremony sans his trademark trench coat, wears a soft smile as he helps the rest of the team to clean up what’s been left behind. The young nephilim beams consistently, practically bouncing on his heels as he dashes to and from the newly weds to ask endless questions. He also wanted everyone to know that he was very excited to be able to wear a full suit for something where he got to tell the truth, though he wasn’t a huge fan of the bow tie. Astra had removed it from around his neck shortly after the ceremony finished after realizing how much the boy tugged at it with discomfort.

The lights would be shut off and the doors locked back up, the room left idle until the next reservation it has planned. Now clad in their normal, every day clothing, the family of five would make their way out to the ‘67 Chevy waiting for them in the parking lot. They’d pile into the car, chatting and laughing and poking fun at each other. Dean might toss his head back in a laugh at something Cas says in misunderstanding, and Sam might reach forward from the back seat to deliver a swift smack to the back of his brother’s head. The old cassette collection will probably make an appearance as the conversation comes to a close and the moon inches its way across the sky. Astra might lay her head down on Sam’s chest halfway through the ride back home, and Sam might begin running his fingers through her hair in a way he knows always works to put her to sleep. Her soft breathing might even out, much like the young nephilim also sleeping on the bench seat beside her.

At this point, Dean might look back in the rear view mirror. If he did, he would see his little brother holding to his chest his new wife, a soft smile on his face that Dean has never seen him bear in any other situation. That’s Astra’s smile, he realized long ago. That’s just for her. The corners of his lips might quirk upwards and maybe, just maybe, he’ll speak softly into the night.

“I’m happy for you, baby brother.”

Sam might blink up at him in the mirror, a look of utter awe on his face. He might trail his fingers through her hair once more as he gives his brother a nod of recognition, and the sound of classic rock overtakes the car once again.

If all of that happens, and if Sam and Astra fall asleep together that night and wake up the next morning, limbs tangled together under the sheets and fingers intertwined, it would mean one thing: Astra finally found her home. After millennia of searching, trying, and failing to find where she fits in, she finally found it in this little patchwork family settled in an old bunker in the middle of no where, Kansas. A sleepy kiss from Sam that morning is truly the cherry on top of it all.

And that’s enough.

#oof okay so this isnt gr8 but!!#i had cute things i wanted to write!!#and i wanted to talk abt the whole fam bc i love my hunter fam!!!#supernaturally soulmates #ethereal family #Hunter In-Laws #samxastrael wedding

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