#i need to put them in a shoe box and keep them with my trinkets
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every night i just fall more in love with gerardrayfrankmikey romance :)
#mcr#my chemical romance#gerard way#mikey way#ray toro#my chem#frank iero#they are all my babygirls#my girlfriends if you will#i need to put them in a shoe box and keep them with my trinkets#i love my baby girls
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Abscond
Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader
Synopsis: Matt and Y/N had that cute innocent teenage love, but what happens when Y/N’s life is flipped upside down; and he’s the one that got away?🫂
Warnings⚠️: None….hope you enjoy this one tho…she cute or whateva🤭
Song for the imagine: The One That Got Away-Katy Perry
Never planned that one day
I’d be losing you
In another life
I would be your girl
“Is that the last box?” My mom asked me as I walked into the front door
“Yes finally, never realized how much stuff I had” I said walking up the stairs to my bedroom
“Well you were away for a good 5 years” she said laughing
“True, didn’t feel like I had so much stuff though” I said laughing
“I’ll let you unpack, and I’ll start some dinner” she said walking away
“Okay! I’ll be down in a few” I said walking up to my room
I stepped into my room placing the last box down….god this room needed some major upgrades. Can’t believe this is what my room looked like when I was 16…who did I think I was
I started to unpack some things, mainly my clothes and some trinkets.
“This room is such a disaster” I said looking around and laughing to myself. I can’t believe my mom left my room the same since I was 16….shes so weird.
I headed down to eat and chat with my mom after I cleaned up some more.
“Mom why’d you leave my room the same” I said laughing
“Well with your father getting full custody, and me knowing your father, and him not wanting you to come here, or me to go there I wanted to keep the memory of you from the last time I would see you” she said smiling
“Yeah dads a dick….Im so glad to be back home. I just missed Boston so much, Arizona is utter crap” I said laughing and drinking some water
“The east coast is better” she said laughing with me
“We have so much stuff to catch up on, and so many things to do” I said getting emotional
“I know. I can’t believe my babies 21 I can not drink with you” she said taking a sip of her wine
“Can’t wait for our drunk nights laughing and crying about random shit” I said
“Those are the best times” she said nodding her head
I had finished eating, and helped my mom clean up the kitchen
“Alright I’m going to head upstairs, and clean up some more, and unpack” I said kissing her on the cheek
“Okay baby, and if you need help let me know” she said drying her hands
“Will do” I said smiling at her before heading back upstairs
I got upstairs and started throwing all my stuff I didn’t want in trash bags for donation, putting more of my clothes away, and putting my new stuff out where my old things were.
I was pretty much done, and I decided to put my shoe container under my bed, I lifted up the skirt of the bed
“Oh god so much dust” I said making a grossed out face
I decided to get the broom and sweep underneath, I was sweeping when all of a sudden two Polaroids flew out from under my bed
“The fuck?” I said leaning down and picking them up, wiping the dust off of them
It was two Polaroids of Matt and I from when we were 16…. Holy shit…
My brows furrowed. When I moved to Arizona I swore I packed these, but I couldn’t find them after days of tearing my room apart
My dad never liked me talking about or speaking to boys, so I assumed he found them and threw them away. I held so much anger towards him for that….and the whole time they’ve been here.
I flipped them over and on the back of the left one it said
“Don’t forget about me I love you-Matt”, and on the right Polaroid it said “be us against the world, in another life I would make you stay”
All my memories started flooding back of Matt and I
Flashback
I was neighbors with the Sturniolos my whole life, but never spoke to the boys. I was always so scared, but one day when I was 13 my mom threw a party and invited them, the triplets and I immediately became friends.
We went to the same high school, and had most of the same classes together. They were the best things to have happened to me. By the time we were 16 I started to realize that I may have liked Matt, but was always so scared to tell him
One night I was just so fed up of never saying anything to him, so I got up and walked over to their house, texting Matt to meet me outside
“Hey Y/N are you alright?” He asked shutting the door behind him
“Yeah I’m good, I’ve just been thinking about some things” I said smiling at him
“Oh? Tell me” he said walking down the steps
“Walk with me?” I asked
“Yeah let’s go” he said following me
“So uh I’m not sure how to put this, and I’m not sure that you’ll feel the same way, but Matt I really like you” I said looking over at him
“Like, like me like me, or like me as a friend?” He said confused
“No Matt, like I like you. I have a huge crush on you” I said getting shy
“You do?” He said looking at me
“Matt YES” I said looking at him
“Y/N….I have the biggest crush on you too” he said smiling
“You do?” I asked confused
“Yes! Hasn't it been obvious?” He said
“No not really” I said laughing
“Well I do” he said pulling me in for a hug
From that moment Matt and I started dating, spending every second together. There was nothing but laughs, long conversations and overall innocent love you see in the movies.
“Hey Y/N, could I kiss you?” Matt asked me one night while we were watching a movie in my living room
“Yeah….ive never kissed anyone before though” I said getting nervous
“Me neither” he said also getting nervous
“Okay, so this could be a learning curve for us” I said laughing to break the awkwardness
“Uh yeah” he said getting shy
Matt had turned towards me, and leaned in kissing me first. It took me a few seconds to register what happened, and then finally I kissed back.
My stomach exploding with butterflies and fireworks…I never wanted to leave this moment. Matt had pulled away, and from that day on he couldn’t keep his lips off of me, but then again neither could I.
Everything was going good for 6 months, before my mom came home one day stressed and crying
“Mom? What’s going on” I said looking at her
“Baby….im so sorry” she said looking over at me and crying
“Mom what’s going on you’re scaring me” I said getting worried
“Y/N your dad won custody of you” she said looking down
“What? I’m 16. How does he magically get custody of me now?” I said getting upset
“I know baby trust me I tried to fight it, but he’s got a better rep than me” she said shaking her head
“What that’s not true! You’ve been here for me and where has he been? Gone nowhere to be seen…..I can’t believe this” I said shaking my head and letting out a sigh
“Trust me I know. I tried, but they don’t care they just look at his perfect record” she said wiping her eyes
“So what now?” I said scared of what she has to say next
“You have to go move with him” she said avoiding eye contact
“IN ARIZONA?? NO” I said raising my voice
“You don’t understand. We have no choice” she said
“This is so unfair. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave you, and my friends and I don’t want to leave Matt” I said starting to cry
“I know you don’t, and I’m so sorry that you have to do this, but there’s no other choice” she said shaking her head
“When do I leave?” I asked
“Two weeks” she said looking down
“TWO WEEKS! I don’t even get to finish the school year, or properly say bye to my friends and boyfriend” I said shrieking
“Y/N…..this hurts me too okay” she said
“I can’t believe dad…” I said rolling my eyes
I waited till the very last day to tell Matt and his brothers. I couldn’t spend two weeks with them knowing that we’re all hurting while we’re hanging out. So I much rather just tell them the night before I’m leaving. I can’t be here to see their pain
The night before I was leaving I texted Matt asking if I could come over, and he said yes. I walked over, and he let me in
“What’s going on?” He said noticing my demeanor
“I have to tell you and your brothers something” I said sniffling
“Okay yeah we’re in Chris room” he said
We went up to Chris room, and they all looked concerned
“What’s going on? You’re freaking us out” Chris said
“I’m moving…..to Arizona….with my dad” I said avoiding eye contact
“WHAT?” They all screamed
“Yeah I know, he won custody, and now I have no choice” I said crying
“This is bullshit” Matt said
“Trust me Matt I know” I said shaking my head
“When do you leave?” Nick asked
“Tomorrow morning…my flights at 5AM” i said
“What? And you didn’t bother to tell us sooner” Matt said
“I know okay. I just couldn’t sit here and see us all hurting, so I rather rip the bandaid off now, and not have to see the hurt in your eyes” I said wiping my tears
“I can’t believe this” Matt said
“Will you visit?” Nick asked
“I have no clue, my dads like a drill sergeant….he hates my mom, and he will probably hate me too. I’d be lucky if he lets me visit for the holidays” I said
“This is fucked” Chris said
“Very….” I said
“Well instead of being sad let’s try to make these next few hours memorable for you” Nick said smiling
That night we watched movies, and shows and laughed and ate snacks and took pictures and videos to always have one another
“Y/N let’s take Polaroids, so you’ll never forget me in Arizona” Matt said
“I could never forget you” I said looking at him
He pulled me in and snapped two Polaroids of us, writing on the back, and handing it to me
“I love you so much” he said pulling me in for a hug and kiss
“I love you too Matt” I said smiling at him
Later on that night I went back home and packed up the last of my things that I would be carrying with me. I thought I put the Polaroids in my bookbag, but what actually happened was I didn’t close the pocket, and they fell out when I put my bag on causing them to fall under my bed…..
It was 3:00am and my mom was in the car waiting for me. I looked at my room one last time
“I guess I’ll be back one day” I said shutting the light off and closing my door
I walked outside to see Matt and his family talking to my mom
“We’re going to miss you so much” Mary Lou said pulling me in for a hug
“I’m going to miss you guys too” I said sniffling
I hugged all of them, and waited to hug Matt last
“Matt I love you so much, and never forget about me” I said letting a tear slip
“I could never” he said letting a tear slip as well
I pulled him in for a hug, and kissed him
“I guess I’ll see you when I see you” I said to them
“Bye Y/N” they said
As I got in the front seat I waved
“Love yall” I said before getting in
My mom started to drive off as I stared into the side view mirror…..my whole life just gone down the drain….and now I have to start a new life in Arizona with my dad
We had gotten to the airport, and this was my first time flying alone, so I was nervous
“You’re going to be okay baby, I love you and let me know when you landed okay? Call me every single day please” She said letting tears fall
“Don’t cry mom” I said pulling her in for a hug
“How can I not? You’re leaving me” she said
“I’ll be okay, I’ll call you everyday and I love you too” I said before getting out the car
“Love you baby” she said and I shut the door walking to my new life
My dad was an absolute asshole. All we did was fight and yell and bicker. He never let me see my mom. I never went back to Boston, and at 17 when I graduated he put me in a private college. I could’ve left, but by that point I had so much fear in my heart because of him.
I had gotten two jobs so I could save and move out, and go back to Boston. I only did three years of college before dropping out. My dad was fuming, but I was 21, and I was ready to see my mother again
I hadn’t really kept up with the triplets because I didn’t want to endure that pain, but about a year ago I saw they were really famous on youtube. My tik tok page has become full of videos of these people I used to be so close with, and my ex Matt.
It was so crazy to see, but yet again we never spoke to each other for these 5 years.
Flashback Over
“God this is crazy” I said examining these Polaroids of us
I went downstairs to my mom
“Hey mom look what i found” I said shaking her the Polaroids
“Holy shit, you and Matt” she said looking at the pictures
“So crazy how fast 5 years can change everything” I said
“Man yall had such cute innocent love” she said smiling at the pictures
“Yeah I never talked to them again after i left” I said
“Yeah I know they’re mom always asked about you, you know they're super famous on social media now. They were just on tour last I spoke to their mom” my mom said
“Yeah I’ve seen it on my social media pages….its so crazy” I said
“You know Matt’s super cute now” she said winking at me
“Mommmm stop” I said laughing
“I’m just saying, you know You should see if they’re home I know that they live half in LA and half here because of their job” she said
“Mom I doubt they’d remember me or care because it’s been so long” I said rolling my eyes
“You act like you’ve been gone for 20 years, they will remember you” she said laughing
“I don’t know. I feel like we grew apart at this point, so would they really care to see me?” I said
“I’m sure Mary Lou always said they asked about you! Go on” she said shooing me
“Okay” I said giving up
I decided to walk over to the Sturniolos house, knocking and getting super nervous about who would open the door.
I heard walking, and suddenly the door was opening up
“Hi” I heard Mary Lou say as she opened the door
“Hi Mary” I said smiling at her, she looked at me a little confused before suddenly her eyes got wide
“Y/N??” She said shocked
“Yes!” I said smiling at her
“Oh my god! Look at you! You’re all grown up. My god it’s been so long” she said pulling me in for a hug
“I know…. 5 years and 6 days to be exact” I said pulling away from the hug
“Please come in” she said waving me in
We walked to the kitchen where I sat at the island
“Jimmy! Come look who’s here” she yelled
Suddenly Jimmy came in from upstairs
“Holy shit!” He said smiling at me and pulling me in for a hug
“When did you get back?” He asked
“About a few hours ago actually” I said
“Man the boys prayed every day you’d come and visit” he said
“Yeah I know….my dads not the nicest” I said shaking my head
“I figured it was him” Mary Lou said
“Are you back for good?” Jimmy asked
“Yes! I’m back for good” I said smiling
“Oh wait till the boys hear about this” she said
“It’s so insane how fast 5 years go by” Jimmy said
“I know I was saying the same thing earlier….i'm just so glad to be back home” I said
“We are too! Man this is amazing” Jimmy said
“I should call the boys” Mary said, I assumed she meant FaceTime, and that they were back in LA
“They’ll be so happy to see you” she said
I smiled at her, and right before she went to call one of them, the front door opened
I heard three deeps voices laughing and talking
“Oh well never mind they’re home” she said
“We’re in the kitchen” Jimmy yelled out
Chris walked in first with Nick behind him, and then Matt behind Nick
“What the fuck” Chris said looking at me as he stopped in his tracks
“Is this real life?” Nick said looking at me
“Y/N?” Matt said looking at me with a shocked expression
“Yeah” I said smiling at them
The End
Alright guys I hope you liked this one, and lmk your opinions and if I should make a part 2 TEHEHE🤭🤭 love yall so very much, and always thank you for the support and love 🥹🖤🖤
-J💅🏽
#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo triplets imagines#matt sturniolo fanfic#matthew sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo imagines#Spotify
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Trinkets - Ballet au
Alma had asked all three of her balletos to visit her in her room for something very important. Her face was stern, and her steps were quick paced. The three grandkids didn’t know what was going on but decided to follow her anyway. Once all four madrigals were in her room, she closed the door and her face softened. She turned back around to face them with a smile.
“Ok, now that I have you here, I have something special for all of you” Alma walked over to her bed where three items were neatly placed on it.
“Mirabel, you first” Alma smiled softly as she picked up one of the items, her first pointe shoe from when she was 16 years old. Mirabel stepped closer to her abuela, slight confusion etched in her features.
“Abuela?” Mirabel’s brow lifted as she stared at the shoes.
“I got these shoes when I was just sixteen years old. I was so happy to the point where I was fighting with myself on whether I should take them off” the older woman chuckled at the memory. “Now with a little polishing and some magic, they are now…yours”
Alma hands her the pointe shoes and Mira…just stared in shock and awe. She didn’t know what to say or do. After a few seconds Mirabel takes the pointe shoes and some tears fall down her cheeks.
“Th- thank you abuela”
Alma pulled Mirabel into a tight hug and patted her head “It’s ok nieta, no need to cry”. Mirabel hugged her back tightly and after a few moments she let go. The young girl took a moment to really grasp the situation and sat on Alma’s bed, just thinking about how long Alma had the shoes and how important they are.
The next two items on the bed were for Luisa, a silk bow and the beaded magenta bracelet. Alma picked the two items up and walked up to Luisa.
“These are for you, nieta. This bow-” Alma gestured to Luisa to bend her head down and she obliged. After a few seconds the light pink bow was tied into Luisa’s bun, “was something I put on every time I practiced in my younger years, and now it belongs to you.”
Luisa was too stunned and well…grateful to speak. Before she could say anything Alma then put on the magenta colored bracelet on her wrist. She, Mirabel, and Antonio already know the sentimental value behind but now…it’s hers. Hers to keep and cherish for as long as she could. Like Mirabel, she let the water works flow out.
After another minute or two of comforting Luisa it was now Antonio’s turn for his gift. He really didn’t get why his primas were crying and continuously asked them if they were ok. Alma took the final item off the bed and kneeled down to Antonio’s level.
“Now tonito, this final item is for you” The older woman revealed to him a music box. “I used to dance to the music it made all the time at your age and so much older” she took a necklace off her neck and at the end of it revealed a key.
She put the key into the keyhole and twisted it around. After a few turns she stopped and the small circular box opened to reveal a small twirling dancer. The little person spun as the music played out of it.
“Wow…” Antonio stared in awe as the little dancer that spun. Tonito carefully took the music box and Alma placed the key around his neck.
Now Antonio isn’t stupid, he’s fully aware of how important the thing in his hand is and he highly appreciates it. “Thank you Abuela, I promise I’ll never break it!”
“Wh…why are you giving these to us?” Mirabel finally spoke up after practically crying while clutching her gift in her hands.
“Because you all worked hard for it so you deserve it- oof!” Before she could say anything else all three grandchildren crushed into a tight loving hug.
As the days & weeks pass the three balletos can’t find it in themselves to really part with their gifts outside of their room or Casita. Luisa refuses to wear her bow or bracelet when doing chores just barely wears them while practicing.
Mirabel won’t put on the pointe shoes unless she’s performing. And even then she hates it because she doesn’t want to scuff them up. Antonio mostly uses the music box when he draws, reads, or feels like dancing to the music. If you ever catch him doing it, it’s an adorable sight.
-
Idea 1:
Just for funsies, let’s add Bruno to the ballet thing (but only if it’s ok with you). Now this man just barely has Antonio’s experience in ballet. But he’s only there to bond with his mama and be a total goof in the studio otherwise. I imagine that if he stayed in the au, his gift isn’t in high demand so he could pop in and “practice” from time to time.
But, when it came to the nutcracker he actually did perform surprisingly well. Granted he improvised because he didn’t know much ballet at the time but he’s a theater kid so he made it work. And trust me, it took EVERYTHING and I mean EVERYTHING in him to gather the courage to play the role. And it took even more courage for him to not run off stage.
Of course Alma had him wear the beaded bracelet and yes he took a picture after the play and it hangs up in the studio next to the others. Alma is a little upset that she doesn’t have a trinket for her to give him but she’s trying to find something.
Idea 2;
When it’s a no practice day Alma likes to share stories from when she was younger and doing ballet or just stories in general. Bruno, Luisa, Mirabel, and Antonio love listening and it’s a great bonding experience for them.
Idea 3:
After Antonio gets his gift he absolutely slays the role of Snow white in plays and he knows it very much.
Idea 4 angst tehe:
The other three grandkids + pepa feel like Alma doesn’t notice them as much anymore. Mostly at dinners Alma talks about whatever new skill one of them learned or the conversation surrounds all of them and ballet.
Julieta, Agustin, and Felix don’t mind it at all. They actually find the way their kids/brother/mom light up when they discuss the topic adorable. Whenever the other three grandkids try to discuss what their day was like it just gets brushed off and the attention is focused on Mirabel again, and by extension the others.
The way I see things; Alma helps Mirabel, Luisa, and Antonio get better at their ballet skillset every other day of the week for hours at a time.
Mirabel’s schedule is from Monday to Friday for 3-5 hours. Early morning from 9am to 12 or 9am to 1pm.
Luisa’s schedule is from Monday to Wednesday for 3 hours. Afternoon from 1pm to 3pm or 12pm to 2pm.
Antonio’s schedule is every weekend for an hour each. So his sessions are from 1pm to 2pm or 2pm to 3pm.
I’m not sure whether Bruno would have a clear schedule but I’m sure he would prefer weekends. 1 hour each after Antonio, but only if Alma isn’t too tired.
So, I’m not really sure if Alma would really have time for the others, but honestly tell me what you think. I could honestly see a rift between the grandkids because of it but I’m not so sure. But also…do you think Casita would collapse in the au or not?
THIS IS SO CUTEEEEEEE……
Alma keeping that stuff for all those years and then. Giving to them. That’s so sweet I’m gonna cry. And she gave it away, and they were fully understanding as well. She definitely was so happy when they accepted them. Also it’s so sad but so sweet how they don’t want to use it outside their rooms. Like. Dies.
So if Bruno was in the AU, it’s entirely by accident. He had been contemplating on coming back. He has the same vision (or not, it might be different, not sure yet), and he saw that Mirabel and Alma were close. The cracks weren’t…as bad, and the magic seemed fine. So he was really thinking of coming back. How he needed up down ballet by accident, he was in the studio at night, checking it out. Alma came in cause she forgot something and Bruno managed to convince her he was a figment of her imagination and it was dream.
Yeah that’s what he thought. She was like “Oh if this is a dream. Then I can teach you ballet as well.” Bruno had no choice but to play along 😭 he really thought he had her fooled. But by the 3rd or 4th session, she had figured it out. And after she revealed he did, she managed to convince him to come back. He still continued ballet, and yes, since his gift wasn’t in demand, he would be able to do it more often.
Yes, Alma loves telling stories, tbh she’s actually got a lot of them, you’d be surprised 💀 Antonio indeed does, he had his animals play in the play in exchange for food.
Alma does notice them, they just don’t realize it 😭 they just don’t really make an effort to try and communicate cause they’re scared of how she’ll react. But she won’t realize what’s happening if they don’t TALK. And they just think that, but Alma regularly talks to them and says things to them. Literally any given time she’s not in the studio, she’d be talking to literally anyone else. It’s insane what tunnel vision can do 😨
And the other adults not minding makes sense, they see it as Alma not being so uptight and strict all the time. Also, if they just speak up, Alma might actually try and engage in conversation. Let it be Isabela, suddenly no one has a problem 🤨
I think the schedules would work. On the days she can, Mirabel would probably try and dance with Luisa in the afternoons, and then come and watch Antonio on the weekends <3333
#my asks#my asks are open#encanto#encanto au#au#encanto mirabel#encanto alma#encanto antonio#encanto luisa#ballet AU#ballerina AU
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Chinstrap
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The woman that opened the door and let her into her apartment looked nothing like what Abigail had expected. She was about the same age as her, fit and healthy, pitch black hair, and wearing comfortable home clothes. Without waiting while Abigail removed her coat and shoes the woman walked out of sight into the apartment. "You're disappointed. You were expecting an old lady with a black cat?" she asked from a room away.
"No. Yes, maybe. I don't know what I expected," Abigail answered, trying to figure out in what direction to walk. The woman appeared again in front of her. "His name is Steven," she said and held up a docile black cat. Abigail not really liking cats gave it a perfunctory pat. "This way," the woman said and led the way to a room that looked perfect as a cigar room at a men's club. Two large armchairs with a small round table and a bar trolly in between them at the center of the room, otherwise decorated in dark green and brass. The walls were filled with shelves containing books, boxes, and trinkets.
"Sit, please. You told me in the email this was about a boy problem."
"Well," Abigail started, uncomfortably, "he made me... I..."
"Don't bog yourself in details. I don't need details, you don't want to relive the past. Pastis?"
"Relive pastis?" Abigail asked confused. The woman grabbed a bottle from the trolly with a big "Pastis aperitif anise" label. "Oh, no. Thank you. I'm driving."
She put the bottle back. "Just tell me what you want for him."
"I just don't want him to hurt anyone else as he hurt me, but you said that wasn't possible didn't you?"
"You can't change who people are, fundamentally. Everyone has a role to play. If you try to change too much somewhere, something else gives somewhere else. There is the occasional pawn that turns into a queen, but otherwise the best we can do is to move the pieces around to where they make the best contribution. Or the least damage anyway." She grabbed the pastis again and poured a shot each in two glasses. "Or you can remove them from the board."
"No! No, I don't want that. I did think a bit about what you wrote in your response. What if he can be the cautionary tale? That guy you date to discover everything that's wrong with guys. I think my problem was that I didn't see it coming."
The woman slid one of the shot glasses over to Abigail's side of the round table. "How do you mean?"
Abigail struggled to get a folded piece of paper out of her jeans pocket, then placed it on the table. She hesitated for a second before she emptied the glass of pastis next to her. The woman unfolded the paper and made a giggling snort. "I am 100% on board."
Matt couldn't peel his eyes off her body as she pulled off the tight, white shirt. He liked how the light color made her tan stand out, how her tits jiggled as the sports bra lost its friction grip on the shirt, and how her long blond hair fell out in a cascade over her body as she finally pulled it over her head. She was only wearing the pink bra and matching panties now. She held out the arm holding her shirt straight out to the side and demonstrably dropped it on the floor near the rest of her clothes while looking straight at Matt. His gaze locked with hers, though he desperately wanted to keep undressing the remaining few items with his sight. He had heard someone say that if a girl's underwear matched she was the one who had decided to have sex that night. Her bra and panties did match, but he was too excited by what he saw to draw any conclusion from the quote.
Slowly she walked towards him where he was lying on his bed, propped up by a big pillow his ex had left him with. She was clearly putting on a show for him as she climbed onto him and the bed, straddling him. As he looked up on her he could see himself in the ceiling mirror reflection. Of course she had decided to have sex with him. White socks, blue, straight jeans, black Ed Hardy T-shirt, chinstrap beard, sparkling ear piercing, and the cap on his head at just the right angle. No shit her panties matched. How could you not decide to get to bed with him?
She leaned forward into the reflection and put her pink, lipglossed lips on his and started to kiss him. The first few kisses were tentative, but the next one was almost forceful, ending in an almost slurping sound. Before he could inhale she threw herself on him again, kissing him harder than before. Her blonde hair enveloped him on all sides and he started to squirm to get free. He could feel his lungs burn and darkness creeping in into the edges of his vision as his consciousness was fading.
With a sharp, inhaling sound Matt sat up in his bed and looked around confused, heart racing. He fell back into his pillow and stared at the white ceiling. It had felt so real, but clearly some of the details were wrong. There was no bombshell girl in the room for one, but it had all felt so real. He tossed a bit, trying to calm down, but he knew there wouldn't be any more sleeping after that dream/nightmare, and he needed to piss.
He got up and walked into the bathroom. Looking back from the mirror was a man that didn't look as he expected. Something was off. He touched his smooth earlobe where the clear stud had been in the dream, but now there wasn't even pierced hole. He scratched his chinstrap beard and looked at the reflection of the rest of his body. Had he always been that skinny? And his hair was too long, wasn't it? Fuck, that dream had really rattled him. He badly needed a smoke.
Having finished his business in the bathroom he found himself standing half naked in the middle of the bedroom, completely lost. Where did he keep his cigarettes? Or lighter for that matter? It was like that part of his brain had been wiped out. And everywhere he looked in the apartment he just saw appalling shit he knew that he had bought, but couldn't for the life of him understand why. Chinos and shirts and nerdy shit. He needed to get out of there, have a walk to try to collect his thoughts. Maybe buy a pack of cigarettes somewhere. The clock showed 4:11, but there was a 24/7 convenience store a mile away.
He found socks and jeans, but only ugly shirts until he reached the bottom of the pile and pulled out a completely white T-shirt. Better than the rest, but just like the rest of the clothes it felt like a size too large. He would need to do some serious shopping. He was just about the leave when he remembered his hair. He would need a haircut today too, and a piercing.
He grabbed a promotional snap back from the rack just next to the door, made a mental note to add a proper Chicago Bulls cap on the shopping list, and put it on just as he had seen in the dream. Brim 3/4 to the back.
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Vows are spoken
To be broken
Feelings are intense
Words are trivial
Pleasures remain
So does the pain
Words are meaningless
And forgettable
Heavy Metal Valentines Day Three: Roses
March 29th, 1985
Billy would say it's too early for this, but considering the way the sun was shining directly into his bedroom window, that would be a lie.
Give him a break, he was hungover and frankly, extra cranky given the date. He heard the knocking again, groaned, and pulled himself out of his warm, comfy enough bed.
He should have seen it coming, all things considered. Eddie had called him yesterday, bestowing him early birthday wishes, and, more importantly, asking him if he would be home alone on said day. Billy honestly assumed it was a joke, Eddie's little mention of a "special birthday surprise" for him if he was, can ya blame him, that's just Eddie's bit.
But all of that foreshadowing clearly went right over Billy's head, as he found himself opening the door to a very excited Eddie, and a very large, and frankly itchy, object being shoved into his arms.
He had barely even processed Eddie's presence, ending up staring at their face for a few seconds after the shove. They looked far too pleased with themselves. Billy looked down to see...a bouquet?
He saw the roses first, they were kind of hard to miss, their deep red petals contrasting against the light green of the... carnations? Green carnations? He looked over just enought to see the bunches of lavender poking out from underneath the other flowers, most of them unknown to him.
Oh.
Eddie got him a bouquet for gay love. Billy could feel his face heating up. Out of embarrassment, anger, or adoration, he couldn't tell. Eddie got him a bunch of flowers to say "I'm gay and I love you."
God Billy had been quiet for too long, he needed to say something. He couldn't just stand there and scowl at the bunch of flowers his boyfriend got him as a birthday gift, he'd look like a total
"Jackass."
"Huh?"
Or, ya know, instead of saving face, he could just insult Eddie right to their face, sure, much better plan. God damnit all.
Billy looked back up at the sound of fabric rustling, just standing their watching Eddie flail and backtrack on their gift, saying they could take it back and get him something actually wanted, staring, like a moron. God somdays he really thinks Neil is right. God, just fucking do something!
"Shut up, would you?"
Not that.
Billy watched Eddie's eyes grow misty in a way that made him both horrified and violently jealous. God he sucks at this.
"Okay, no, Eddie look. I'm not mad, I promise, you just...caught me off guard."
"I called you, I told you I was coming over with my surprise.."
"No, No, Not like That. When you said surprise, I thought you meant like, I don't know, some silly little trinket or somthing, not a floral love letter. This is way to thoughtful, and now my gifts will look properly shit by comparison."
"So, you..like it?"
This was another one of those things Billy was getting used too. Eddie never specified with any medical terminology, but they had mentioned to Billy that they were... different. In ways that other people didn't like, in ways that got them held back their senior year. Whatever Eddie had or was, it made it a lot harder for them to navigate social situations, due to a "lack of understanding cues" they said. Having that with a boyfriend who spoke in nothing but sarcasm made conversations...interesting, to say the least.
"Yes Eddie, I like it, but you know Neil will flip his shit if he sees this, right?"
"Oh, yeah, I had kinda hoped you had a place to put them that would be, like, private, I can take them back if you don't!"
"No. I'm keeping these."
And keep them he did. Kept in an old Cali shoe box at the back of his closet. Over the next three months he would bring them out every now and then, looking at them made him feel nice. He was planning on pressing them soon so he could keep them for longer. He never got to.
Sketch
#billy deserved better#mungrove#my art i guess#billy antis dni#eddie deserves better#gay billy hargrove#heavymetalvalentines#your honour they're gay#autistic eddie munson#i love flower language with all my gay little heart#also sorry for the ending#i feel like shit so you all must suffer with me
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OKAY!!! HUSBAND IIDA FUCKING THE SHIT OUT OF YOU AKA BREEDING YOU CAUSE HE WANTS IT ALL WITH YOU!!!!
i don’t know what demon came from hell and possessed me when writing this but it’s darker than my other stuff. this is more angst than smut i guess. i think i’m going to write another one for iida with a breeding kink that more lighter.
warnings: sexual abuse, nsfw, choking, slight breeding kink, eating out,
wc: 4k
every Saturday, you and your husband iida go to the farmers market to shop for food or other things. you two walk side by side with hands locked together. you pull him around and he smiles at your huge grin. you swing your arms as you walk to the little market.
it was warmer that day so you wore a cute sundress while he wore a polo and shorts. he watched the skirt of the dress flow around your beautiful body. he just watches you look around for the best veggies and ripe fruit.
you’ll catch him staring and you’ll ask him a question which he won’t respond to. you lightly punch him and he’ll snap out of his daze. he smiles and apologizes. you tell him to go over to the bake goods and pick out a dessert for the two of you while you drag some summer squash and peppers.
he pouts as he goes a looks at the cookies and cupcakes. he waits for the old women to finish talking with another customer. he points to the two he would like, pays and turns back to you.
the guy sitting on the back of the truck was flirting with you. you smiled and laughed at his jokes. he shyly smiles at you. he cracks a joke and you touch his shoulder.
iida storms up to you and snakes his hand around your waist. he pulls you closer. he glares at the man. you turn to iida.
“hey honey, did you know i used to go to school with him?” you laugh and turn back to the guy. you pay for the veggies as iida quickly pulls you away from the man.
“ooh let’s get the apple cider doughnuts! they smell amazing!” you close your eyes and inhale. the sweet smell of warm dough, apple and cinnamon swirled around you. “please tenya!!” you grab his arm and hug it. he looks down at you.
“yes of course,” he smiles down at you. you two stand in line and talk about what else you need to get and which buildings you still needed to look in. “i think we should have curry for dinner, hun,” he tucks a loose piece of hair behind your ear.
“ok! i think we have everything for that! do you want to get some extra potatoes? wait! what did you get?!” you look down at the bag.
“chocolate chip,” you glare at him. “what? you like chocolate chip?”
“i can make those at home! you’re supposed to get something new here.... but they do look pretty good,” you mouth watered.
the line moves and you two ordered your doughnuts and apple cider. iida’s phone rings and he steps away. the doughnut guy started making small talk with you.
“beautiful day isn’t?” he asks.
“yes! it’s so nice to finally get out!” you smile. “have a lot of people come here?”
“oh yeah. they’re pretty popular around this time! i swear one guy ordered like 15 this morning,” he laughs and turns to pour the ciders. he turned and handed them to you. “boyfriend?”
“husband,” you smile and grab the drinks.
“you look so young!” he compliments you. you blush and turn around to see iida scowling at the man. you hand him the cider with a sweet smile.
“thank you,” he takes the cup and brings it to his lips.
“be careful! it’s a new pot!” the guy yells.
too late, iida had burn his mouth. he took the cup down away from his face and stood there stoic. the guy handed the bag of doughnuts to you. you link your arm with iida’s and started to the venters.
“you want to cry. don’t you?” you laughed.
“that’s so hot. it’s like lava. why is it so hot??” he looks at you. you laugh at your husband. you two walk to a stand full of movies. you take a few bites of your doughnut. you melt into the warm apple taste. iida picks up a movie and shows you.
The Mask, “hmm never seen it,” you say and look down at the movies. he shuffles around and picks up another. fatal attraction. “sounds scary,” you say. he moves behind you at the other table. you hear him pick up another. fear. “is this you telling me you want to watch a horror movie when we get home?” you ask. he chuckles and tosses the movie back on the table.
you walk away from the booth and to a table full of rings. he hugs your shoulders and puts i his head on yours. you pick up a cute little ring and hold it up to his face. “cute” his chin digs into your head. you put the ring back and head to the car. iida laces his fingers with yours as you two walk.
he stops and looks at some fruit which causes you to get jerked back. you look at him and then at the fruit. “we should get some,” he says. he pulls you closer and you hug him. he looks over some apples and strawberries. something catches your eye. you release your husband and walk over to a booth full of boxes. you look through them, you bend down to get a closer look at the small trinkets.
iida turn to look for you. he see you bend over and some guys looking at the view. he drops the fruit and rushes to you. he grabs your wrist and drags you to the car. he glares at the guys. he rushed to the car, his grip not loosening.
“tenya!” you try to pry his hand off your wrist. “what is your problem!?” you yell. he walks you to the door and opens it. he lets go of your wrist and lets you get it. he slams the door and makes his way to his side.
he quietly gets in and puts his seatbelt on. his hand grip onto the wheel. he just stares forward.
“what was that about?” you yell.
“keep your voice down!” he turns to you. his expression only coming off as angry and demanding.
you turn to the window and put you seatbelt on. you just watch the scenery. once he had driven out of the busy parking lot, his hand comes to rest on your thigh. his thumb rubs circles into the fabric of the dress. you tilt your leg away from him. he moved his hand back to the wheel and drove silently the whole way home.
he pulls into the driveway with a scowl. he parks the car. your hand reaches for the handle. he quickly locks it. you glare at him. his hand reaches for your hand and you pull away.
“y/n!” he yells.
“no tenya! what was that whole... whole.. tantrum you pulled at the market!” you yell waving your arms around.
“you kept flirting with guys!” he yells. you fell silent. he looks at you. “you were flirting with the vegetable guy, the apple cider guy and you purposely bend over so those guy to watch,” he says.
“you’ve got to be kidding me, tenya,” you whisper. you fingers rub your temples. “you’ve got be actually joking right now,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut. “tenya,” he looks at you. “what is this?” you hold out your left hand.
“your wedding ring,” he answers.
“what does it mean, tenya?” you look up at him.
“that you’re married,” he answers.
“now, who am i married too, tenya?” he looks at your question confused.
“me?” he shyly answers.
“so why would i flirt with guys i barely know?” you pause. “hell why would i flirt at all?” you yell.
“i don’t like your tone!” he yells.
“unlock the door,” you whisper.
“no,” he huffs.
“open the fucking door, tenya iida. or i swear to god i’ll break it open myself,” you slowly say.
“not if you talk to me like that,” he crosses his arms. you look at him dead in the eye. you press the unlock button on your side of the car and he quickly grabs your arm. you push him off and make your way inside. he slams his door and chases after you. “y/n!” he yells.
you unlock the main door and slip off your shoes. you walk to the kitchen and unload the bags. you hear the door open then slam then heavy footsteps to the kitchen. you ignore him as you put away the vegetables and other goods.
“y/n,” he whispers. you stand up and look at him.
“yes, tenya,” you sneer. he pleading face drops to pure anger. he walks closer to you. you back up till your back is flush against the fridge. he hand comes up and creases your face. you inhale and try not to move away. he quickly turns away and slams his fist into the counter. you exhale the breath you were holding.
with a blink of an eye, his hand was around your throat. his eyes look like they were deciding either they wanted to kill you or fuck you till you couldn’t think. your eyes, glossed with tears, held a pleading look of desperation. you loved tenya but sometimes he would get so jealous, he would stop thinking and end up hurting you in frustration. you thought you could let it slide but it’s been 5 years and it’s only getting worse.
“i... i want a divorce,” you struggle to say while tears flow over the sides of your cheeks. his eyes turned to pure unfiltered rage. his hand fell to yours and with that he dragged you to the bedroom. you dug your heels into the floor. he turns and grabs your upper arm. you try to run the other way. his hand slips and you fall to the floor. you try to scurry away but you feel his large hand grab you hip. you’re lifted off the ground and swung over his shoulder. you kicked and screamed for him to up you down. you pleaded that you were sorry and that you don’t want a divorce.
he throws you onto the bed. you curled up hoping he wasn’t going to hurt you. he grabs your chin and forces you to look at him. tears streamed down your face as your husband looks down at you with eyes full of anger and disgust. he feels you tremble underneath his touch. he scoffs and pushes you back onto the bed. you start sobbing while holding your head.
he wasn’t always like this. you guys head fallen in love in high school and dated all through college. he proposed a few months after graduating. you guys were young and in love. but after the honeymoon and he went to work, he started coming home stressed and angry. he would take it out on you. it started off as snapping at you or getting frustrated at small things. it didn’t escalated till his father died. after the funeral he was so disoriented and frankly drunk, that he slapped you around. you figured it was grief and stress. you let it slide, hoping it was a one time incident.
one day after he got home, he went to shower with you. you weren’t feeling well and weren’t in the mood for sex. you kept pushing him off you. he grabbed you by the hair and forces you to suck him off. you cried silently while his dick destroyed your throat. you didn’t stop crying till he had left for work the next morning.
you put up this facade of a loving couple in public. people think you two are perfect for each other and that you guys are what true love is suppose to look like. you did love him. that’s why you wanted to stay with him.
at first you blamed yourself. you rationalize that you started it. you gave him attitude and this is how he’s reacting to put you back in your place. you were the one starting the fights and this how any rational person would react. ‘he’s fixing me’ you would repeat over and over in your head as he would pound you into the bed.
he grabs your arms and pins you to the bed. he switches his grip as one hand moves to slide up your dress.
“tenya,” you whisper. his hand moves your panties to the slide.
“tenya,” you say. his fingers push their way through you. he licks his lips as his fingers trace over everything inch of you.
“tenya,” you yell as tears made rivers out of your cheeks. his grip on your wrist became unbearable. his fingers twist inside of you.
he doesn’t answer. his heavy breath hitting your face. you close your eyes as he starts thrusting his fingers. it hurt, the speed, the force, everything hurt. you let the tear speak volumes for you. he didn’t care. he sees you as his little wife. the love of his life. his first love.
his thumb moves to rub harsh circles into your clit. the pleasure in the pain. the worst part about all of this. you can’t control how you body reacts to him. his fingers move at lightening speed in and out of you. you feel your core tighten as he grazes over your sensitive spot. the knot forming against your will. you know in a few seconds it will come undone and he’ll be satisfied.
you open you mouth as the wave of ecstasy cashes into you. just like the drug, after the high, only the original feels remain. he continued thrusting his fingers into you. your legs trembled. a whole in your chest expands and your eyes shed the last tears.
he removes his finger from you. you roll onto your side as he moves around the room. you figured he was going to change to go run. he usually ran after to clear his head, then he would come back and apologize.
you close your eyes and try to sleep. you hear him get undressed and you hear the dresser open then close. you try to steady your breathing as he walks by you. you bite your lip to not make a noise.
you feel the bed dip. ‘he probably putting on his shoes’ you think. ‘he’ll leave and i can be alone.’ then his large hands grip onto your hips. you scream and try to turn onto your back to kick him off. but he holds on.
“stop fighting y/n!” he yells. you stop. you’re paralyzed in fear. he lift your hips to his. you feel him drag his tip through your folds. you close your eyes as he pushes his way through. you bite your lip to not scream. his size stretches you out. you grip onto the sheets. he bottoms out and instantly start thrusting. you clench your jaw to not scream in pain. even though he’s going slow, the pressure is unbearable. you’re still sensitive from before and he just is huge.
you knuckles are turning white as he slides out then slams back in. his hand caressing your ass. his hand travels down to your lower back. he holds it there as he slowly exits and snaps back in. his fingertips dig into your hip. you let your body go limp. you give him the control. he snaps back in. he hear him grunt softly each time.
you release the sheets as the pain fades away. the time before he snaps back in shortens. each time he ruts back in you flinch. he feels you clench around him. he smiles and quickens his thrusts. his hand starts roaming again. he massages the flesh of your ass. he lick his lips as he stares down at your body.
he loved you. he doesn’t know how to show it. correctly. he has been in love with you since freshmen year. when he saw you walk into the classroom with your friends. he can still remember the day he asked you out. may 7th. the flowers were blooming and his heart was beating so fast, he thought it might explode. he couldn’t believe it when you said yes. he felt like he was dreaming.
he feels like every time he’s with you. dreaming, peaceful, home. which is what clouds his judgement. he can’t control his burst of anger from work. he has to keep it cool there or else he’s fired. but at home, he feels safe but he’s so frustrated that anything sets him off. he knows it. but he isn’t willing to change.
tenya continues to drill into you. your body feels like it’s on fire. his hands burning you with every touch. you lay there, numb. your fingers play with the sheets, trying to ignore everything. you look up at the photo on your nightstand.
you in your beautiful wedding dress. your hair falling in stunning ringlets. the biggest smile you’ve ever had. and tenya. he stands next you with his arm around your waist. he’s lean into you. his eyes shut from laughing and cake on the side of his face. you had taken the first slice and smashed it into his glowing face. his smile was one you’d always remember.
a tear slides down your cheek. who was the man above you?
“god y/n, you make me feel so good!” he moans out. another tear falls to the bed. the man above you was supposed to be the one.
‘he’s fixing me’ you think. you think about your first date. he took you to a cute park and he had made sandwiches. you two had laughed the whole time and you felt sad when it was over.
“fuck y/n, i can’t wait to fill you with kids,” he moans out again. a tear add to the pool. the man above you wasn’t the sweet high school, who was too shy to even look at you.
‘he’s fixing me’ you repeat. you think about buying your first place together. a cute little apartment, close to the college. he put on some old love songs and grab your hands. you two dance in the empty apartment for hours. you had wished that every night there was like that one.
“damn i’m almost there!” he grunts. thur the tears you try to think about the wedding. how handsome he look. how nervous he was. his face stayed pink the whole week after it.
his thrusts become harder. you squeeze your eyes shut. they burned with salty tears. his nails digging into your sore skin.
‘he’s fixing me’ you repeat again. you’re reminded yourself about your first fight. he came home late and he had forgotten to pick up something from the store. you were tired and moody so you snapped and told him that he was never reliable. he yelled back that it wasn’t his fault. it wasn’t but you hated him yelling at you. you two had a screaming match till he got into the car and disappeared for the night.
you stayed up waiting from him to come home. it wasn’t till 10am the next day when he came back home stumbling and smelling of liquor. you hugged him tightly and started crying. he told you he was fine and that he was sorry. he wiped away your tears and kisses your forehead. he joke about being starving. you cooked him breakfast and went to bed together.
“you’re all mine,” he moans as he comes in you. the man above spoke the truth but it stabs you like a knife. how can he love you while he hurts you?
you lay there motionless. your eyes are flat and red with tears. ‘am i fixed?’ you ask yourself. ‘thank you for fixing me’ you close your eyes and fall onto your side. tears continuing to create oceans. you feel him lay next to you with his arm draped around you. he squeezes you closer to his chest. his breath on your back made you shiver.
you look at the picture again. you curse at it mentally and closed your eyes.
you dreamed that you were floating in the ocean. you’re eyes are closed and the salty water pricked at your wounds. there’s no land in sight. you’re breathing is slowly and almost relaxing. you swing your arms around on the surface of the water. you open your eyes to see birds flying in circles above you. you hold your breath and let yourself sink into the blue abyss.
you felt like nothing. absolute weightlessness. all your emotions, pains, bagage floats away in the soft current. you let yourself fall deeper and deeper into the salty ocean.
a force grabs you by the stomach and pulls you down. you open your mouth the scream but your lungs fill with the unforgiving water. the once beautiful light blue sky started to feel like a distance memory as you pulled deeper into the darkness.
you jerk wake. you sit up and bring your knees to your chest. you hear the shower running. you check the clock on tenya’s side of the bed. 9:30. you try to hug yourself tighter. you started to notice all the bruises. they littered your body. your wrist were a greenish yellow. your upper arm was purple, you bet your hips had small purple dots and you look at the mirror across the room. a faint handprint wraps around your neck.
your bit your cheek to try not to cry as you get up. you swing your legs off the bed and stare at the floor. you bit harder on your cheek as you force yourself to get up. you feet hit the cold floor. you push off the bed and stand. your legs feel wobbly. you room feels like it’s spinning. you grip onto the end table, knocking off the picture. the picture that will haunt you forever.
you slowly stumble to the kitchen. “water,” you could barely say. you made it to the bright kitchen. you squint and walk to the sink. you grab a glass and fill it.
your hands shake as you bring it to you lips. the cold water flowed down your arching throat. you closed your eyes and finished the glass. you quickly filled another. you water to the cabinet and pulled out the bottle of Tylenol. you untwist the cap with shaky fingers. you shake up a couple and pop them into your mouth. then the cold water. you finished it in one go.
you slam the cup down as you look up at the ceiling. you hear a door shut and soft footstep coming to you. you felt his hand snake around your hips. he wraps his arms around you. he pulls you close to his chest. his head snuggles into your neck. you squeeze your eyes closed as you bit your lip. you held back you tears as he kisses your shoulder and neck.
“good morning, beautiful,” he says in a low tone. he moves away from you and opens the fridge. “eggs?” he asks searching the fridge.
“hmm? yeah sure?” you say walking away from him. you walk into the bathroom. you shut the door quietly. you lean against the door. you release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. you move to the sink and stare at the clean white sink. you turn on the water and cup your hands. you watch the cold liquid spill out over the edge. you bring your face to your hands and rub in the cold water. you turn the sink off.
you breath and look up at yourself. you stare at a tired, beating, puffy eye version of yourself. “fuck you,” you whisper. you go to turn on the shower and the handle was warm due do tenya’s. you twist the handles and sat on the toilet. you lean forward on your knees as you bring your hands to your face. flashback of the night before flash in your mind. you felt his hands on you again. you see the photo and his eyes. those eyes filled with a fury so red hot, it burns deep into your memory. you push your hair back as you take a deep breath. you stare at the wall for a few seconds before standing again.
you slip off the disgusting sundress. you pull off your panties. you instantly threw them away. you wanted nothing to remind you of that painful night. you step into the shower. the warm ran down your sore body. you wrap your arms around yourself as you stand there, staring at the tiles.
you here the door creek open. tenya’s head peers in. “you want any eggs?” he asks.
“um. no i’m good,” you answer, not really listen to what he says. “thanks,” you to finish. you close your eyes and listen to the door close shut and his footsteps fade away in to kitchen.
you sink to the floor. the water running down your back. you close your eyes as you listen to the water.
#mha smut#mha iida#mha angst#mha#bnha smut#bnha x reader#bnha#bnha iida tenya#iida tenya#iida smut#iida tenya smut#bnha iida#iida#iida x reader#smut#fanfiction#fanfic#my hero academy fanfiction#fic#fic request
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Baby Birdie|Hawks x F! Reader PART SIX
A/N:Slowly but surely I'm getting these out!
Summary:Hawks can't help but get curious by your past which you keep very secret. Until one day when his curiosity gets the best of him.
Tags:None
Part Five
"Oh wow.. that sounds awful." You tell Keigo. He just finished telling you about his past when he was a kid. You guys have some interesting conversations in the morning over some banana pancakes for breakfast. "Yeah but it doesn't bother me too much anymore." He replies cooly.
"That's good!" You reply. You were enjoying this nice slow morning with Hawks! You guys rarely get these where you are BOTH have a day off. Just the your phone buzzes and you pull it out, looking at a text message. "Oh dear."
"What?"
"My landlord says the old lady down on the first floor threw out her back and needs my help." You explain.
"Oh should I go with?" Hawks asks worriedly. "No no it's fine! Besides, people will get suspicious seeing us together! It won't take long! Promise!" You reassure him and stand up before heading out of the apartment. Hawks just huffed and sat there, staring down at his now empty plate.
He knows that you know a lot about him, but he knows barely anything about you! He just knew the day he met you that you needed help! Never really stopped to get to know the real you! Now that he thinks about it, you've always been so closed bout your past.. I mean yeah Keigo had his own too! But he eventually got over it! Maybe you just didn't have one?
He then shakes his head. Don't be stupid Keigo! If so she'll tell you when she's ready! He tells himself in his brain, trying to get it off his mind. But now he couldn't resist as he found himself in your bedroom. He felt so guilty, looking and snooping around, making sure to not disturb anything. Whenever he did have to, he made sure to put it back exactly how it was before!
Just when he almost gave up from searching, he noticed something in your closet, hidden by piles of old clothes that don't fit you anymore. He goes over and uncovers it. A shoe box. He shrugs and opens it, his eyes widening at the array of stuff inside!
There were a bunch of pictures, polaroid and digitally printed! And some Valentine's and Anniversary cards, even small little gifts and trinkets. Why would you have these? He wondered. But the dots started connecting once he looked through the photos. They were all of you, looking a few years younger, with another man with a brown beard and styled hair.
That's all the pictures were! You and this man eating ice cream, at a sushi bar, out drinking, zip lining, meeting with an older couple who Hawks assumed was the man's parents. But the piece that finished the puzzle was a little black box at the bottom of the shoe box. He opens it and eyes widen when he sees a beautiful fancy ring with a diamond on it!
Like, the ring was fancy! Way more fancy than a normal ring you wear around. It clicked in his mind. She was married! Or at least engaged! I mean, I kinda figured I wasn't the first! But.. something seems a bit off here.. Keigo thinks to himself curiously, still staring at the ring and at a photo of you and this man rock climbing together. Where was this outgoing, spunky person you once were?
"I'm back Kei!" Your voice calls out from the living room. Keigo jumps and quickly puts everything into the box before putting it back in your closet and covered by clothes. Then he got up and walked out of your bedroom and into the living room. "Hey, where'd you go?" You ask casually while slipping off your shoes and placing them by the door.
"Oh just decided to tidy up." Hawks lies. He wasn't sure wether he should tell you what he found or not. If you hid the box under a bunch of clothes in a corner of your closet, you probably don't want to remember it! But now he was curious to know more. He can't help it!
"Well anyway, we have the rest of the day together! What should we do?" You ask him. It was only 10:10 AM. That's when Hawks gets a idea. "Let's go out for a fly!" He suggests. This way, I can ask her about the box once we're alone! He thinks to himself.
"Okay! Let's go!" You tell him before slipping on your shoes and jacket again. Afterwards, Hawks picks you up bridal style before taking off to the air off with you. You happily hang on and smile while flying. Hawks honestly felt pretty bad. You were so happy right now and was gonna risk ruining it with bringing up something potentially awful.
But he wanted to know!
So after flying around for a while, the two of you land on top of a building. "Y/N? Can I ask you something?" Keigo begins. "Sure what is it?"
"Uhm.. so while cleaning up, I stumbled upon this strange box in your closet. It had some pictures of you and this man.. and an engagement ring?" He asks.
He could see you immediately stiffen and look away. Aw crap I knew I shouldn't have said anything! Hawks thinks to himself. "I-I'm sorry! You don't have to answer that!" He quickly adds. "No no it's fine.. it's just-..." Everything went silent.
"His name was Kei. I met him when I was 29, having just graduated high school and entered college. I was at a party one night and met him there. He was so nice and sweet, and was the only sober and good guy at that party! So we talked until it was over, exchanged phone numbers, and then went out seperated ways."
"After that we kept talking and soon graduated college together and moved in! And it didn't take long before he proposed to me. Being naive, I said yes. I really thought he was a good guy! But he didn't show his true colors until a few days before the wedding.. it was our rehearsal brunch.."
-
"That was a great run! Huh?" You ask while looking over at your fiance in your guy's dressing room. "Yup! Can't wait for our wedding day!" Kei replies happily. You let out a content sigh. "Anyway, the girls said they're gonna take me out to a bar to celebrate. They said they'll drop me off after we're done!" You tell him a you began gathering your things and stuffing them into your purse.
He looks over at you. "A bar? You sure that's a good idea?" Kei asks. "Yeah I'll be fine! I won't get drunk and I can defend myself! Don't worry!" You reassure him and begin walking to the exit, but Kei stands in your way. "Uhm.. and how do I know you won't cheat on me?"
Your eyes widen form shock. How could he even SAY something like that?? "You don't need to worry! I wouldn't dream of cheating on you!" You reassure him and once again walk around him. But in a rush, he grabbed your wrist, turned you around and your eyes widen with fear when you met his gaze.
He was CRAZY mad, and had a death grip on your wrist that you tried yanking free to no avail. "You are NOT going to that bar!!" He yells angrily. Before you knew it a strong stinging was on your head as you found yourself lying on the hard ground. Your hearing was muffled but you heard multiple voices shouting. Some sounded angry some sounded concerned.
The last thing you saw was your now ex fiance being handcuffed and taken away by the police.
-
"After that incident, I was taken to the hospital and got patched up.. After being discharged I went to visit Kei in prison and ended the relationship. Shortly after that was when I started working at my old office. And then a few years later I met you.." You finish, staring down at your feet. You were trying your best not to cry.
Hawks was just speechless. He had no idea it was that bad! To think that a few days before marrying who you thought was the love of your life, ends up hurting you and potentially could've killed you! It made him feel worse to think that your whole life has basically been dispair since you worked at tht awful office job after breaking off your wedding.
But he knew ONE thing is for sure. I won't end up like Kei. I'll protect her and treat her properly. I'll be sure of it. Hawks thinks to himself before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. You didn't hesitate to wrap your arms around his waist while his big, soft red wings wrap around you. You felt so protected.
You haven't been able to feel this way for a long time. And you were happy. You knew Hawks wouldn't end up like Kei, however the small thought creeps in the back of your mind. But you quickly shake it away.
He's not like him, despite his name sounding the same. I know he won't hurt me.
#mha#bnha#mha reader insert#fluff#mha oneshots#boku no hero academia hawks#bnha hawks#hawks x reader#mha hawks#bnha keigo#keigo takami#keigo tamaki#mha keigo x reader#keigo fluff#keigio
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Artistic Instinct Chapter Nine
Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty
Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.
Word count: 6500
Warnings: Language as always, warning of racist language (Nush talking about her mother's experiences), yearning, fluff to second base (yes, my darlings- IT IS ON!), alcohol is mentioned, food, anxiety attacks.
Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)
This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something. This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!
People often think artists
Create with their hands
But really they create
with their hearts
So please be gentle
For we wear our vulnerability
On our sleeves
And freely give all we have
Hoping someone will fall
In love with the parts we offer
R. Evelyn
Chapter Nine
The sharp buzz of the door startles you out of your daydream. Laden with roughly the entire contents of your spice cupboard, vegetables, meat and prawns, your hands are crisscrossed with creases from where the weight of the totes has gouged at your skin. A smart-looking kindly gentleman greets you, “You must be Ms Pierce. Mr Pike has asked for you to wait here for him.”
Wow! Marcus’ place has a concierge - who did he have to blow to get a place like this?!
Throwing the bags onto one of the hotel lounge-like chairs, you slump into another as you rub soreness from your hands. A small ping tells you that the lift has arrived - you look over in the direction of the noise, a tremor of excitement rippling through you. An adorably scruffy Marcus, wearing old jeans and a t-shirt, steps out - his face utterly beaming on seeing you. “Hey! How are you doing?” he leans in to kiss your cheek twice - hang on, when did this start being a thing?
“Why didn’t you let me pick you up? You’ve carried so much over- lemme see your hands,” his brow knits on seeing the rapidly reddening welts as he takes your hands in his, brushing his thumbs gently across your palms.
“You live four roads away from me - they’re not that bad! And anyway, you can help me now- which floor do you live on?” You outwardly roll your eyes at the sweetness Marcus shows you, secretly enjoying the stroke of his fingers and the ghostly press of his lips still burning a hole in your cheek.
Marcus takes all of the bags from the chair, refusing point blank to entertain you helping him to take them upstairs - you watch as his arms twitch under the weight, enjoying the mixture of confusion and shock at your strength across his face, “you carried all of this?”
Nodding at him, you try to take a bag again, but he dangles it just out of reach, “Watch it - you do realise that I have two other brothers apart from Ads? I will think nothing of rugby tackling you to the floor and pinning you down,” you warn, enjoying the flush brought to his cheeks.
“You’ll be the death of me,” Marcus flusters as he calls the lift, handing you the smallest, lightest bag.
✪✪✪✪✪
Exiting at the top floor, you’re taken aback by the amount of light and quiet that washes throughout the building. Feeling so removed from the shadows cast from the tower blocks and the hustle and bustle of the streets below, the broad daylight offers a sense of serenity, a peace that invites itself into the soul and makes itself at home. As Marcus unlocks the door to his flat, you kick off your shoes at the entrance, “You don’t have to do that,” he offers through the keys in his mouth, holding the door open with his elbow, still refusing any help from you.
“Oh believe me, if I didn’t, my mum’s radar would go off and I would be cruising for a bruising,” you giggle, taking in the glorious spaciousness of his apartment, “I promise my feet aren’t too stinky and that I put on clean socks.”
“Whatever makes you comfortable,” Marcus’ eyes crinkle at you, “Can I get you something to drink or eat?”
“A coffee would be ace - strong and black please,” you reply, your gaze drinking in the details of his home. Books line the shelves along one wall - such a mixture of titles ranging from airport bestsellers to obscure art catalogues - the relief to see actual paper and hardbacks adorning the shelves rather than trinkets and plants when so many keep their books electronically in their pockets.
A couple of large canvases lie propped against another - long hours preventing them from being hung - their bright colours sure to bring joyful hues to quite a stark room. There are a few photo frames dotted around - mostly pictures of a moment in time rather than poses - of people you assume are friends and family from back in the States. Handing you a steaming mug, Marcus looks over your shoulder as you look at a photo of an older couple dancing and laughing at a wedding, “That’s my mamá and papá at my oldest sister’s wedding. It was such a magical day - just so much love in the air.”
“You can feel the joy radiating from them,” you offer, lowering your gaze from him to grab the frame next to the picture of his parents, “Are these your sisters or cousins? You all look very alike.”
“Yeah, my little sisters,” he grins proudly. “This one is Beth - she’s two years younger and is a paediatrician in Texas. Has two kids with her wife, Sophie. And this one is Cat - she’s doing her own thing out on the West Coast as a musician. They definitely inherited all the clever and cool genes.”
“Hah! You’re kinder to your sisters than I am to my brothers,” you grin, “They’re all total idiots but due to some weird genetic and biological insistence, I still love them.”
Taking a gulp of your coffee, you turn back towards him, “Come on you, we’d better get to work if you want a curry this evening.”
He pouts, looking more like a sulky little boy than a middle aged man. You can’t help but laugh at the sad puppy dog eyes he is conjuring at the thought of work, “Oh poppet, what’s wrong?” you teasingly mock.
“I kinda hoped you were a magician who could just magic a curry outta nowhere so we could watch films til the others arrive,” Marcus grumps shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Well, there is UberEats for that but you horrible lot put me up to this so you’re going to help,” you wag your finger at him, “But as you’re the only one here, you get the honour of being the chief taster,” you add, tapping him playfully on the nose.
With a soft huff and a furrow of the brow, Marcus guides you into the kitchen where, whilst he was making your coffee, he has helpfully already put all the fresh produce in his fridge as the sides are delightfully blank apart from the bags of spices.
“What are we making today, Chef?”
“Ok, meat dishes are a spiced yoghurt leg of lamb, a keema - don’t you give me that look, a cardamom butter chicken, and, a prawn and courgette curry,” you turn to Marcus’ fridge to find the lamb, “Needs to come to room temperature before we cook it.”
“My tummy is rumbling already,” Marcus adds, his eyes glinting excitedly as he licks along his lower lip, the skin glistening damply. You have never quite figured out whether your love of his lips is due to their fullness or the association with the kindness of his words.
“Hah- you’re not getting away without having some veggies, too, mister,” you cluck as you hand him a bag of onions and several bulbs of garlic to skin, chop and crush for the various dishes.
“Ok, Moooom,” Marcus dramatically rolls his eyes at your dictate, “I admit, I’d rather eat sugary or salty things over green stuff but I can make an exception for curried veg.”
The arch of your eyebrow virtually reaches your hairline at him teasingly calling you mom, so you reach for the towel, twist it and flick him hard on what you’d hoped would be his hip but catch him square on his arse instead.
A yelp of pain and wide eyes greet your action, “Did you just…? Oh, it is on.! You might think you’re tough from your brothers but my sisters taught me sneaky tactics.”
“Come at me, bro!” you taunt from the other side of the kitchen, putting up a boxing stance.
Brandishing the hand without the paring knife in your general direction, he answers, “Nope, gonna use the element of surprise and attack when you least expect it!”
Tutting your tongue at Marcus’ weak ass response, you grab the spices you need to prepare under the power of your pestle and mortar. With the waft of roasting cumin soaring through the air and your battle with your boss at a supposedly declared ceasefire, everything starts to feel comfortable and easy again. You could be six years old and standing on the chair next to your mum, watching like a hawk as she lovingly prepared meals for your family with an ever burgeoning belly. It was then, during those hours shared in the galley kitchen that became your time with her when normally it felt pretty split between her work as a GP and your brothers.
What the fuck… You jump out of your skin when a warm, solid wall presses you out of your nostalgic reverie, “Hah! Pinned ya! Sneaky tactics- told ya they worked,” a deep, soft voice whispers in your ear.
Your heart flutters like a bird trying to escape its rib cage with the closeness of Marcus, the heat rising through your body from your proximity to him - a visceral response to the glorious cocktail of masculine smell from his aftershave and body wash.
What do I do next?
Why can’t I bloody think straight?
Wiggling yourself around so that you face him, his face now so close that you can feel his warm breath upon your cheeks. Your eyes playfully catch the steady gaze of Marcus’ deep soulful pools. It would only take the smallest of movements to reach forwards and kiss him right on that stupidly gorgeous, plush Cupid’s bow and crease. But… what if he doesn’t want that? He’s my fucking boss - that would be a stellar move to make…
Instead of the tiny incline forwards to press your lips against his as every inch of you screams to do so, you drop to the floor and crawl out from between his legs, “Not pinned well enough it seems,” you tease haltingly as your tongue sticks in your dry throat.
As you check the browning of the cumin seeds, out of the corner of your eye you see Marcus’ head drop sadly, hearing a small sigh - his hands still upon the work surface and feet not having moved from the position he had pinned you in moments earlier.
Did he want to...? No, surely not.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, Nush,” Marcus humbly apologises, pushing himself off the side, “I hope that I haven’t made things awkward.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” you softly say, pouring the roasted cumin into the mortar, ready to be ground, “I was the one who flicked you on your arse - I am the one who should be apologising.”
You beckon gently to Marcus, who has now taken refuge in the furthest corner of the kitchen from you - wringing his hands instead of chopping the onions, “Come over here - I want you to experience one of my most favourite smells of childhood. These are roasted cumin seeds and when you grind them, they release the most heavenly scent.”
After a few grinds, you offer the bowl towards Marcus’ face as he closes the gap between you, “I… Wow! I wouldn’t have thought it would make such a difference but it’s almost like you’ve entirely transformed it. See,” the dimple deepens in that right cheek of his, “you are a magician.”
“I love how spices - a bit like paint - can take on completely different characters depending on how you treat them. Leave the spice whole and you have this mild and fragrant taste. If you crush them, then their attitude comes back tenfold with a vengeance. Toast them, and they may as well be Clark Kent in a phone booth.”
Looking up you see Marcus gazing at you with a sweet half smile on his face - could he like me… like that?
“Sorry, you don’t need to hear me blathering on,” you fluster, waving your hand in a dismissive gesture as the heat rises through your face.
Shaking his head gently without dropping your regard, “No. No, please don’t ever stop. Your passion for things is beautiful.”
“Growing up, I didn’t realise that other people didn’t have whole cupboards filled to the brim with herbs, spices and seasonings. I mean, for all the damage the British Empire reeked, you’d have hoped that the spices would have entered more of their culture, but no! Apparently, my family was the weird one for having food with a flavour,” you shrug your shoulders at some of the ridiculous things you’d heard as a child - accusations of differences you’d never thought to be of note.
Marcus chuckles at your indignance, “It’s funny you should say that. I didn’t realise that my mamá had an accent until it was pointed out to me when I was a kid.”
Noting your slightly confused expression, Marcus explains, “She’s Argentinian- came to the States as a political refugee as she was a journalist following the disappearances during the Dirty War. Met my dad, and I came along very soon after, and the rest is history..”
You can’t help but laugh at the flush on Marcus’ cheeks as he recounts his personal history to you, “Love can’t be held back when it hits and it’s obvious that they’re still crazy about each other now from that photo.”
“Exactly, no point in wasting time when you know what you want,” Marcus grins, looking at his feet.
“My parents have a similar story. My dad is as English as they come - I mean we’re on a freaking island so there’s no true thing as being completely English. My mum is from Pakistan - Karachi - it’s in the South.”
“She came over due to the fighting between East and West Pakistan - the two countries that are now Pakistan and Bangladesh. It kept interrupting her studies to become a doctor so she came to England and restarted her degree here.”
Marcus’ brow creases in thought, “Why did she restart her degree? Could the credits not just be transferred to the college she moved to in the UK?”
“Hah- yeah. It was the seventies, during a time where all Southern Asians were P*kis - no matter where they were from on the Indian subcontinent- and thought of as dirty, lesser beings. There were constant race riots for anyone who wasn’t ethnically white or English. She would never have been taken seriously with her mediocre medical training from some Adobe hut in the middle of a jungle,” you fume, pounding the seeds into fragments. The mortar being threatened with the same fate too.
Marcus’ fingers wrap around your wrist to try and prevent your rage at the ignorance of others from causing you an injury, “I am so sorry,” he pulls you into a warm, tender hug, tucking your head under his chin, “How long before food can take care of itself so we can put a film on? I think we both need a rest.”
“Hmmm, ten minutes and then most things can simmer or be switched off ready for a reheat or proper cook this evening,” you say, leaning reluctantly out of his comforting arms to go check on the bubbling saucepans of food.
“‘K. I’ll go get things set up so you can flop for a bit,” Marcus touches you gently on your shoulder as he goes to set up the front room. You go to squeeze his hand but it’s removed from your shoulder too quickly for your response.
✪✪✪✪✪
“You ready?” Marcus calls through the wall as you turn off the heat from the final pans.
“Mhm,” you mumble in response to his question - double, triple checking that everything is off. Too many fire alarms ruining perfectly lovely meals or moments.
“What did you pick?” You ask, curling up on the other end of the sofa to Marcus, “Do you have no cushions?”
“Shit, no -I’m a guy, what can I say? - lemme grab the pillows from the bed,” Marcus jumps up, calling through from his bedroom, “Bet you have loads on your couch.”
“A fuckload, but, mainly to hide the fact the springs have gone. It’s like a precarious balancing act of comfort on there,” you surreptitiously sniff the pillow, inhaling the smell of Marcus’ shampoo, “Did you give me your pillow?”
A confused look is shot at you from the other end of the sofa, “Whaddya mean?”
“Smells of your hair,” you say as you squish it into the perfect comfy shape, “Like a mixture of lemon and eucalyptus.”
“That’s a sharp nose you’ve got. I gave you the other side though,” Marcus huffs through a chuckles he shakes his head at your somewhat strange comment, “Guess I’ve been sleeping across both sides then.”
“Best thing about sleeping alone- getting to starfish across the bed. Unless of course…”
Marcus can’t help but laugh at your awkward dig to find out whether he’d brought home the goddess from Friday’s antics, “So you wanna know if I brought home Kemi?”
“She was very beautiful. You’d have been mad not to,” you try to school your expression as best you can, keeping your eyes glued to Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly singing about true love, desperate to hide the jealousy coursing through your veins.
“Must be mad then. Didn’t even kiss her,” Marcus honestly answers whilst copying your tactic of staring at the tv, “She could see that there was someone else I liked so it would have been cruel to have done anything.”
You mull this over in silence, trying not to speak, to ask a million questions.
“Nush.”
“Mhm?”
“Can I talk to y…”
You both jump as an alarm goes off on your phone to remind you to turn the lamb down in the oven.
“Oh shit. Hold that thought,” you jump up from the sofa, heading in the direction of the kitchen with zero thought of what the man at the end of the sofa is desperately trying to tell you. Fiddling with Marcus’ ridiculously swanky oven until it looks like it is doing what you want it to do, you walk back in with two ice cold beers from his fridge.
“Raided your fridge,” you cheekily grin, holding one out to Marcus, the condensation running, down your fingers, “Hope you don’t mind!”
“Good thinking, Batman,” Marcus nods in appreciation, “Any more alarms set to scare us both?”
“Only due to go off when the film is done, so…” you yawn widely, “We’ve got a while yet.”
Marcus’ hand that was slung over the back of the sofa, lifts to stroke your shoulder, “You sleepy? C'mere, you.” With a soft tug of your t-shirt sleeve, he pulls you into his side - your willingness to sink into his broad chest very apparent. Your ear is pressed against him, his heartbeat singing a lullaby to you as his fingers stroke and caress the silken waves of your hair. You wonder at how this man - a total stranger a week ago - has seemingly knitted himself into becoming a cocoon of safety for you, his gentleness and calm offering a haven of tranquility in your otherwise cacophonous world, as the light in the room slowly fades to black.
✪✪✪✪✪
“Uh oh.”
“Hey, welcome back, sunshine!” a gentle pair of fingers stroke back the hair that had drifted into your face as you dozed.
“Sorry for falling asleep. Again,” trying to finesse your way through the heat flaming your cheeks, you offer an awkward grin towards your chuckling pillow, “Guess we’d better start getting things finished as we’ve only got a couple of hours until everyone arrives.
“Oh, don’t give me that look, Marcus! I don’t want to move either but this curry won’t finish cooking itself.”
“Spit spot, there’s work to be done,” Marcus trills as he adopts his best attempt at a British accent.
“What the fuck was that? Did you just turn into Dick Van Dyke or something?” You tease mercilessly at the appalling sound coming from those lips, choking back laughter at his mock offended face.
“C’mon, you’re right. We’d better get moving,” Marcus stands with a stretch and a creak before reaching back to tug you to your feet.
Back under the glowing lights of Marcus’ kitchen, his presence is now constantly close to yours as you glide together around the space - stirring, chopping and checking. Every time he passes, above the general aroma of cumin and coriander, the onions and garlic, you can smell the cedar and amber upon his skin- a deliciously masculine scent that only seeks to entangle your senses further.
“Here, try this,” you hold out a heaped teaspoon of mince curry to Marcus, “This is the keema - I promise that I only put in the two chillies you chopped for me, this time.”
“Mmm, that’s so good,” he says thickly between chews, stealing the spoon from you as he dives in for a second, third, fourth spoonful.
“Hahaha! Leave some for the others- and you need to try it with some raita and fried onions too,” you check through your dog-eared, yellowed and slightly sticky recipe book that your mum had handed you the day you’d left home at eighteen - a memo of all the times you had cooked them together.
“Shit, I’d better start the chicken,” going through the spices in front of you, you search for the cardamoms that would make the butter chicken sing, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Marcus’ head snaps up from the green beans he was preparing towards you, “What’s up, sweetheart?”
“I can’t find the cardamoms for the butter chicken - gah I knew I’d fuck this up!” you cry, scraping your trembling hands through your hair, eyes flashing around the room wildly as your cortisol rises, making you want to run and scream at your failure to feed your friends.
“Whoa - where’s this coming from? C’mon, look at me. Look at me, Nush,” Marcus has his hands on either side of your shoulders, squeezing them gently, “There’s enough here to feed our whole office for the week with the daals you prepared yesterday, the vegetables we’re about to make and the meats that we’ve cooked up already here. Andy is bringing all the rice and naan, Kiri is bringing beers and Dian is on gin and tonic duty. You have done more than enough and I will not allow you to get this upset over one missing ingredient especially when there is a small store downstairs that I’m sure will have it, if we cannot find it after we look for it together.”
After seeing your numb nod as an agreement, Marcus moves his hands to the side of your head to focus your gaze on him rather than the panic seeping through you. As he strokes his thumbs across your cheeks, you allow your eyes to close and your breathing to regain a normal pattern.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologising?” Marcus searches your now open eyes.
“My reactions are ridiculous. Most people tell me to stop being so stupid and that just whips the storm inside my head even more,” you whisper, “But you. You know how to slow everything down and stop the spinning.”
The corner of Marcus’ mouth twitches, “D’ya wanna know a secret?” You nod at him, “As you know, I was married before. When it ended, I totally spiralled. The world kept spinning too fast and I experienced constant anxiety, very nearly burning out of my role.
“I was lucky. My boss was understanding but made me promise to get some support. He knew of someone mental health trained within the FBI who was there for mainly hostage negotiations - not part of the true psych team but someone who could help without it turning up on your record.
“Kwame worked with me for almost a year - pretty much to the point my decree absolute came through. Our sessions were done on a track - by running with me, he was teaching me the skills I needed to control my fears. By my feet hitting the tarmac, he was grounding me. By going over running techniques, he was teaching me how to control my breathing- taking longer and deeper breaths. And running is just repetition. A mindful repetition that allows your brain to have a bit of a break.
“So when I see you start to spiral, I try to give you the same steps he taught me. Get you grounded, opposite me so you copy my breathing and hope that gets you on the right track.”
“Thank you,” you drop your head forwards, relaxing onto his chest. He feels so - safe.
“You don’t need to thank me. Well, okay maybe you do as look what I’ve just spotted,” Marcus holds the offending spice aloft.
“Oh my god, I could fucking kiss you. You have just saved the curry,” you dramatically declare, clutching the cardamom jar to your heart before placing it next to the other ingredients on the counter.
“Go on then.”
What?
His comment makes you snap your head over to catch Marcus’ tremulous gaze, his eyes darting between the floor and your lips. He takes a small step, closing the small distance between the two of you, threading his fingers between yours. Each slow movement offers an unspoken opportunity for you to step away. To tease him and move on with the day.
But why on Earth would you?
With your heart racing faster and faster, you lure him ever closer with your eyes, soft but absolute in their conviction of what was about to pass between you. A small part of you understands that when you kiss him, something will change forever. That within his lips you may find the place to call home - the aching in your stomach may cease and life could start to make sense again. The anxieties of the week washing away, the pain of your collective pasts and the hint of a brighter, happier future before you.
When he doesn’t move again, you seize the moment. Pushing up onto your socked tiptoes, you tilt your chin, inclining your face until your lips come to rest upon his in the sweetest, chastest kiss. Drawing back slightly to check that Marcus is okay with a raise of your eyebrows and widened eyes, he holds your gaze steadily, similarly stunned - a mirror of each other with racing hearts and slightly parted lips. It’s like in that moment everything around you ceases to exist as anything other than extraneous nonsense - all the noise inside your head silenced by that one touch.
A small dumbstruck smile creeps across Marcus’ lips before he lowers his head to press another gentle kiss upon you. Then another. Then another. Each press of your lips a little longer. A little deeper. Your lips part to allow his tongue entry as every single thought is quietened by the taste of him. Dropping hands for his to cradle your face and yours to thread through his hair as your bodies press together tightly.
Oh the taste of him is utterly exquisite! From where you’ve been using him as chief curry taster, there’s an element of spices with the tiniest hint of mint. And how you have missed having that beautifully solid warmth of his body next to yours. Inhaling his breaths that fall upon you, your hearts match each other’s rhythms as your lips explore each other, every sensation drawing together to create a humming ball of energy, like you are standing at the point where lightning strikes the Earth.
✪✪✪✪✪
Hands fisted tightly in each other’s clothing - both stuck in the quandary of wanting to tear the fabric from your bodies but also frightened of pushing the other too far. Finally pulling apart, you gaze upon Marcus - all lust blown pupils and dopey smiles. Your foreheads come back to rest against each other, unable to quite let go just yet, not wanting to break the spell and return to reality.
“I have wanted to kiss you since perhaps the first time I met you,” Marcus murmurs as his lips gently ghost over your cheeks, “Maybe even from seeing the photo in your file when Andy drove me here from the airport.”
“Was the person, me?” You quietly ask, finally with the confidence to finish that conversation, “The reason you didn’t kiss or sleep with the goddess?”
He drops his eyes as he gives you a small nod, “Normally, I’d have just asked you out but I was scared of fucking up. It’s been a long time since I felt a spark with anyone.
“You’ve entered my life in this whirlwind of intelligence, beauty and tenderness - I didn’t want to frighten you or make you feel uncomfortable if you didn’t reciprocate.”
A thousand thoughts flood your mind as Marcus says those words. All at once, you want to tell him how safe he makes you feel. How much now that you’ve started kissing him, you never want to stop. How the cruel critics of slumber, silence themselves when you feel his heartbeat against your cheek.
Instead you stand there, silent.
Trying to stroke out the creases you’ve created in his t-shirt as you attempt to find words to put into a logical order, you notice his face twitching when the material under your fingers makes contact with his sides, “Oh Marcus, are you ticklish?”
“Um, no,” Marcus tries to deny breezily as he takes a small, hesitant step back from you, pretending to steady himself.
Making a small movement towards him, your hands at the same level as the point of the bunched fabric - you ask, “Are you sure about that?”
“Yeah,” Marcus is now eyeing you suspiciously - desperate to kiss you again but also a little worried as to what havoc your fingers might reek.
“Then, why are you moving away from me?”
“No reason…” his usually deep voice now a little tighter and higher, “Nush… What are you about to ARGH!”
His knees crumble beneath him as you attack his sensitive sides, “Gah! Quit it, woman,” he weakly commands between wheezes and hoots of laughter.
Taking full advantage of Marcus’ prone and vulnerable position, you take the opportunity to straddle him - effectively pinning him to the floor, “This is how you pin someone.”
“I let you pin me,” Marcus corrects you with a wink.
“Oh really?” you contest, entirely unconvinced by his bravado.
“Yeah,” he says with a small wiggle, bringing his hands to the back of your head, “Cos y’see, I can flip our positions quite easily.”
Suddenly, you find yourself flat on your back in Marcus’ kitchen with zero air in your lungs to form any sensible thought other than to kiss him hard. His large hands cradle your head as he props himself gently above you on his elbows. You feel his entire body covering yours. Deliciously pressing against every single inch of you and oh how it takes every bit of the minutismal amount of self control you have to not beg him to fuck you senseless into that floor.
✪✪✪✪✪
“Shit, is that your door?”
“Fuck,” Marcus pushes himself up to kneeling between your legs, “Can we pretend we’re not in?”
The harsh realisation of an evening with your colleagues, albeit lovely people, sinks in to you both.
“Nope,” you groan, popping the p with a deflated gusto, “Hang on, don’t buzz them up until I’ve tucked my boobs back into my bra.”
“I dunno, makes for easier access,” Marcus lopsidedly grins with a wink as he heads for the door.
“You certainly didn’t seem to make hard work of it earlier,” you mumble at him, before you affix a smile to your face, “Hey! How are you all doing?”
A sea of never ending hugs envelopes and separates you from Marcus as everyone piles into his apartment. The stupid grin still firmly in place on your face since you’d first kissed, you find that every time you look over at him, he’s gazing right back, mirroring that lovestruck smile.
“Oh my god, it all smells so amazing,” Dian waxes lyrical, squeezing you tightly as she inhales a lungful of exotically scented air, “What’ve we got?”
You take her by the hand into the kitchen to show all the different things you had bubbling away. Andy ducks into the kitchen behind you, laden with bags filled with pilau rice, naan and chapatis, and a beautiful small bunch of spring flowers in his other hand - tiny tête-à-tête daffodils with multiple heads along each stalk, brilliant yellow and red tulips standing like soldiers and the otherworldly looking stems of hyacinth, wickedly scenting the air under your nose as he thrusts them under there.
“Hey pretty girl, here’s all the bits you asked for. You deserve a much bigger bunch for what I’ve roped you into but I know you love the early blooms,” he offers by way of apology, sticking a kiss to the side of your forehead, “Smells fucking good though as ever. Hope you don’t mind but I’ve brought a box to take some home for Greg - he was a jealous arse this evening so I suppose I should share.”
“You know the way I cook, enough for several small armies,” you wonkily grin at him, truly thankful for the part he’d had to play, “‘Fraid there’s no easy way to say this and you will have to be the one to break it to Greg, but there’s no butter chicken tonight.”
“You’d better have a damn good excuse for this slatternly behaviour, madam,” Andy gives you a serious side eye for this infraction.
“Well…”
“Initially Nush couldn’t find the cardamoms but then we ran out of time. Plenty of food here, though,” Marcus answers for you, his hand gently holding your hip as he reaches around you to grab a couple of beers from the fridge.
You see Andy catch Marcus’ hand lightly stroking your side as he walks back to Kiritopa, but are entirely grateful when his expression and mouth say nothing. The light chatter in the kitchen, whilst Dian dips a teaspoon into all the pots, is interrupted by a small knock at the door. Sticking your head around the kitchen door, you spot Marcus opening the door to a nervous-looking Harper. Andy sidles past you, to pull her into the main room, rather than her previous position of standing on the doorstep, utterly awkward and obviously feeling quite out of place.
“Hi, I hope you don’t mind me coming. I know I wasn’t there Friday but I don’t really do large crowds and drinking.”
You walk over to her amidst the chorus of “not to worry”s and “lovely to see you”s, “Fancy something to drink now? Got plenty of soft options and I think I’ll stick alongside you as I’ve got to make sure I don’t burn stuff.”
“Including yourself, this time,” Harper retorts quickly with a small smile and a raise of her eyebrows.
“Hah, chance’d be a fine thing,” Andy laughs, slapping your shoulder before turning back to clink bottles and talk with Kiri and Marcus.
✪✪✪✪✪
Through the full length doors of Marcus’ balcony, evening spring sunshine streams through, bathing the group of your co-workers in a gentle, diffused light that flows around the room coating you in a golden glow. You all eat your fill and then some, with full tummies and tired eyes - the kitchen still full of half eaten dishes.
“Can we make this a weekly thing?” Kiritopa asks through a mouthful of food, hopefully.
“Not unless we take it in turns or get a take away - I don’t have the physical or emotional energy to make this level of curry every weekend,” you pointedly remark, looking up from your coke to meet Marcus’ eyes.
You’ve spent the evening barely speaking to each other for fear of alerting the others but surreptitiously brushing past so that you can sneak touches. Tender hidden strokes that feel like the kindest stitches on hidden, gaping wounds.
Marcus stands up to help usher the evening to an end and get you to himself again, “I have some boxes for y’all to take food home as otherwise, I’ll be eating this for weeks - delicious as it is.”
Everyone thankfully takes their boss’ hint and head into the kitchen to grab platefuls to reheat after long days. Slowly saying their goodbyes, your friends drift off in the direction of their homes as you throw yourself in an exhausted heap of bones on his sofa. Two strong hands grip you under your arms, to drape your torso across his lap.
“Hey tired girl,” you slightly open your eyes to spy a smiling Marcus gazing down at you. His fingers draw lazy patterns over the sensitive skin of your neck.
“I’d like to take you on a proper date this week. Wanna do this properly. Make a bit of a fuss.”
“Yeah? Not just pin me down and ravish me on the kitchen floor?” you grin widely at him.
“Well, I’d hardly call that a ravishing…” your eyes widen, eyebrows raising at Marcus’ comment, excitement pooling in your tummy, “Yeah, I saw there’s an Argentinian restaurant in Blackheath so how about steak, Malbec and homemade ice cream before I bring you back to either yours, or mine, for another, even better ravishing?”
“That sounds amazing, although with the amount of food in my belly, I may never have to eat again,” you give your stomach a rub, “But the ravishing…”
Hauling you up to sitting across his lap, you protest loudly, “I am going to crush your legs.”
“Stop making ridiculous comments and c’mere,” Marcus demands as he gently turns your head towards him, stealing a delicate kiss from you.
“I...should… - argh! Stop kissing me for a second,” you beg halfheartedly, “I should go home.”
“Stay.”
“Please stay,” Marcus desperately entreats you, “I’m not expecting anything but I’d love it if you stayed. I know you’ve got nothing here but give me two minutes and I can have a spare toothbrush for you. I’ll drop you home early tomorrow morning so you can grab some clothes and then we can go into work together?”
It feels as though the wind is knocked out of your lungs with the depth of Marcus’ need to be around you.
How does he do it?
“There’s no games with you, are there?” you twist in Marcus’ lap so that you now straddle his thighs, placing your hands on either side of his ridiculously handsome face.
“No,” he shakes head slowly, all the while holding eye contact with you, “I’m too old and I know what I want.”
“What’s that?”
Stroking his hands up and down your sides as he nuzzles your neck, he clearly and confidently declares,
“You.”
Tag list of glory (as ever, please ask to be put on or dropped from the list): @astroboots @silverwolf319@sirowsky @leonieb @disgruntledspacedad @bison-writes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @danniburgh @sugarontherims @green-socks @tardisfangurl @absurdthirst @pedropascalito-deactivated20210 @mouthymandalorian @mrsparknuts @zukoyonce @agirllovespancakes @yespolkadotkitty @lunaserenade @theravenreads @lv7867 @songsformonkeys
#pedro pascal#josé pedro balmaceda pascal#jose pedro balmaceda pascal#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal#ppascaledit#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal x reader#marcus pike#marcus pike x reader#the mentalist#the mentalist fanfic#marcus pike x oc#marcus pike x oc reader
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Everything Comes at a Price (Demon!Dark/Fem!Reader) Chapter 1
Commission prompt: Reader is really depressed, and Dark decides to roughly Fuck the depression out of them
Important: Reader has female pronouns and is a vagina owner!
Warnings (For this chapter specifically): Talk of depression and stressful life, mentions of unnamed character death, mentions of beheading/dismembered head and some minor blood/gore (not too detailed), cursing, mentions of family in the hospital, demon!Dark (akin to jinn or genie), and pet names.
A/N: PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS! This first chapter is allllll story setting. Part two will have the good ol' rough and dominating Dark fucking.
As always, if you would like to support me, I have a Ko-Fi (here) for donations and I usually have a few slots open for commissions (unless life gets in the way)!
“Look, I think it’s just best if you take some time off.”
Though worded nicely, you instinctually felt the pang of panic and anger already bristling in your chest.
“Time off…” you murmur, eyes sliding down to your boss’s desk in thought, “As in, a week or two or…?”
You let the implication hang heavy in the air. There was a telling silence that followed your question. When you finally met his gaze again, your boss let out a hefty sigh. Before he even said anything, you knew what his answer was by the sympathy on his face alone.
“We won’t fight your unemployment for the first few months, which hopefully will be enough time for you to find another place of employment. I’m sorry, Miss Y/N, but between the company making cutbacks and your recent drop in productivity, I had to-”
“Don’t you dare,” you hissed sharply, interrupting him before he could finish the excuse.
Rage fueled your motions, forcing you to your feet while your eyes narrowed on the man you’d once thought a decent person.
“A drop in productivity?” you scoffed, “My apartment building was just destroyed in a freak fire two weeks ago that, of course, my insurance refused to cover. I’ve been bouncing place to place between motels and friend’s homes until I can afford another deposit on the measly pay you give us. My mother is in the hospital, in the ICU, after a freak hit and run. My car broke down yesterday and I walked thirty fucking minutes in the pouring rain today just to make sure you assholes weren’t a man down with all this work. And you knew all of this, but you still decided to fire me? I can’t- You know what, fuck you. Fuck you and fuck this place! I hope this whole company shuts down and you get to experience even a modicum of the instability I’ve had to!”
Before he could respond, you slammed the chair back into place against the desk and stormed from the room. You could feel the confused gazes from your coworkers as you marched to the door but didn’t dare spare them a glance. Most of them you considered to be your friends and you knew you’d have to explain everything later, but you couldn’t allow anything other than anger to inhabit your body at that moment. One bit of sadness and you would crumble. Rage would keep you safe until you made it to your temporary home for the night.
Little curses and fury-filled resentment spilled from your lips as you stepped out into the dreary public. Of course, it was still raining. You hadn’t even dried off from your trek to work and now you were thrown right back out into the storm. A timely crack of lightning rumbled across the sky as you shot one last middle finger back at the door.
“I can’t believe this shit,” you grumbled.
Pulling your raincoat up over your head, you kept your gaze down and began your journey back to the hotel. The one upside to all the rain was that the sidewalks were nearly barren. Cars sped by on the busy roads but you were alone on foot. In fact, you didn’t see a single soul until you were on the block housing your hotel, and somehow that lonely occupant still managed to slam into you.
“Excuse you,” you muttered.
“So sorry, please excuse me.”
The person’s voice sent shivers down your spine and every last hair stood up on your arms. Reflexively you pulled back as a hand touched your side, ready to give them a mouthful, but they were moving on by the time you could gather your wits about you. All you caught was a tall form in a black business suit striding off in the opposite direction.
With an irked tsk and a mutter of “Fucking asshole”, you rushed into the lobby, stomping the rain from your shoes along the rubber mat. Sure you were pissed off but you still had the human decency not to create more work for others.
You managed a little nod to the desk clerk on your way by to the elevator. As you watched the numbers climb slowly down, you mentally questioned the fates if the world was against you. The elevator stopped on literally every- single- floor; All 25. Trying to maintain your composure, you leaned up against the wall and let your eyes flutter closed, slowly breathing in and out rhythmically. Just a little longer and you’d be in the safety of solitude. You could let it all out.
The ding of the lift doors opening pulled you out of your little meditative session and you immediately let out a grateful sigh of appreciation upon realizing it was empty. Being stuck in a small metal box with others for an undetermined amount of time made your skin crawl, much less when you were already on the edge of snapping. You mashed the close button repeatedly until the metal doors finally sealed shut and the elevator began to move. The rest of the journey was a blur until you stopped at your room door and fished your card out of your pocket, coming out with not only the plastic key but a large silver coin.
“The fuck?” you muttered.
As the door buzzed open, you flipped the coin over in your fingers, trying to think back on when you had gotten it. You were pretty sure you’d never seen anything like it before; completely void of any details on one side but the other filled with finely engraved words.
The loud startling thump of your keys as you threw them on the nightstand wasn’t even enough to draw your concentration away from the interesting little trinket. It took a few minutes and some good lighting but you eventually figured out what was written; the discovery only confusing you further.
“Clutch this coin to thee whilst ye make a plea
In return ye shall become my endless devotee”
“Yeah… that’s not creepy at all,” you sighed.
Tossing the coin on the nightstand next to your keys, you sloughed off your wet clothes and tossed them in the small hamper next to your duffle bag. After this horrid morning, you needed a long hot shower before you pondered on any strange coins or the mental shithole that had become your life.
You weren’t sure exactly how long you spent under the burning water but, by the time you exited, you were both hungry and in dire need of some caffeine.
“Or a nap. A nap could be heavenly,” you murmured to yourself.
Towel around your head, you dropped into the bed naked and took a moment to revel in the sheets against your freshly lotioned skin. There was hardly a better feeling. Thank god you had the good sense to buy some of your own sheets rather than rely on whatever the hotels had to offer. It made your day the tiniest bit better.
As you leaned back against the headboard, you snagged up the coin once more. The metal was cool against your warm fingers as you flipped it around and around. Did you dare give it a try? What was the worst outcome: You felt silly for believing a random coin and no one would ever know? Although, what if it was legit...?
Now that thought made you feel silly. A little chuckle passed your lips before you clasped the coin between your hands and brought it to your chest, closing your eyes as if about to pray.
“Alright, I don’t know how this works so I’m just gonna state my wishes out loud. I hope that works for, well, whoever you are. First off, I want that backstabbing business ruined. They fucked me over after I bent over backward for them, now they deserve to feel the same. Please. Second, I don’t know how you could do it, but I’d really like my insurance company to finally approve my apartment claim so I can find another place soon. Third-”
You trailed off as emotions immediately welled up behind your eyelids, the burning already tingling in the back of your throat from holding them in.
“My third and most important wish, please, if nothing else, find the one that put my mom in the ICU and make them pay. Those idiots down at the police department couldn’t find them, or so they say anyway, so just… give them what they deserve, please.”
With a stifled sniffle, you wiped away the few tears that had escaped and fell back against the headboard, eyes staring unseeing at the ceiling as you let the pain wash over you; Rage, dread, hope, apathy, desperation. Eventually, the unending barrage became too much to deal with. This wasn't a new thing in your life, but it had certainly culminated into something worse with everything going on in your life; clinical depression exacerbated by a series of unfortunate events.
With no other plans for the day and the weight of your heart heavy in your chest, you chose to simply roll over and bury yourself, and your troubles, in the fluffy comforter. You’d feel better after a nap. You were almost certain of it.
Even as you drifted off into sleep, the tears didn’t cease.
When you first woke, you weren’t sure what had roused you but you knew it wasn’t good; All you could feel was bone-trembling terror. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, felt frozen in place with only the ability to stare at the now dimly lit wall; watching the shafts of setting sunlight ever so slowly creep down by the minute.
“Come now, darling,” a low voice crooned in the void behind you, “I know you’re awake.”
Like a rubber band snapping, the grip on your body suddenly released and you shot up in bed, immediately turning around to find out who had spoken. You weren’t sure what you expected but it certainly wasn’t the devilishly handsome man that was seated next to the window. The sunlight pouring down on him made it very obvious that his skin was lacking any range of melanin, rather being pallor shades of whites, blacks, and greys, but that didn't detract from his appearance at all. In fact, he looked like something out of a Gothic romance novel or a Tim Burton movie. Once the enchantment of seeing him began to wear off, you finally noticed what sat on the table next to him.
A human head.
“Holy fuck!”
A hellish screech escaped your lips as you hastily scrambled backward, trying to get as far away from him as quickly as possible, only to go careening off the edge of the mattress. The pain of impact on the floor couldn’t even deter you. As your back hit the wall, you kept your eyes pinned on the intruder, watching for any sign that he was going to follow you or attack.
“While I’m certainly not minding the show, don’t you think you’re rather underdressed for this occasion?” he spoke suddenly.
It took a few moments for his words to sink in but the moment they did, you launched yourself back at the bed with a hushed curse and promptly pulled the sheets up around your naked body.
“Who are you? How did you get in here? I-Is- Is that real?”
Long clawed fingers made their way into the matted, bloody mess of hair and pulled the body part free from the table with a sickening pop.
“It is undoubtedly real, but I figured you’d believe me much quicker if I had a visual aide to my claims,” he replied, dropping the offending thing before tossing you a sharp, seductive, smile, “The name is Dark. I’m a demon and the owner of the coin you wished upon.”
Your tongue felt too heavy to move while you watched in horror as he licked the blood from his fingers like a cat bathing itself.
“I- I don’t-”
“You don’t understand,” he supplied helpfully.
As he rose from his seat, you stared at him owlishly, unable to take your eyes off his graceful form as he nearly glided across the floor to stand in front of you.
“That coin,” he hummed, pointing at the metal disc in question, “It belongs to me. When someone makes a wish while holding it, I’m able to hear them. In your case, I heard all three.”
Trepidation tickled the nape of your neck when your eyes slowly rolled over to the head once more. It was as if you couldn’t breathe. Sick crawled up your throat and it took every ounce of your strength to keep from vomiting at the man’s feet. You don’t know how long you sat there, struggling to breathe and ease the nausea but, when it finally went away, rage took over.
“I didn’t want you to actually KILL them!” you shouted.
The demon casually arched a brow in your direction before saying, “You specifically wished for the one involved in your mother’s accident to get what they deserved.”
“Yeah! Like prison! Not death!”
A soul-trembling crack resounded through the small hotel room as he slowly craned his neck side to side, ethereal pulses of red and blue emanating from his being. Some of the previous ire slipped from your hold when he moved even closer, step by step until his knees were touching yours.
“I will never understand you humans and your sense of righteousness. Would it ease your mind to know this wasn’t the first time they had committed such heinous crimes?” he asked.
“W-What?” you questioned softly.
“I will not delve into details but rest assured that your embarrassing sense of compassion was lost on them; they were vermin,” he explained, “Now, that makes three wishes fulfilled. You have two remaining.”
You thought back on exactly what wishes you had made and were immediately overcome with dismay.
“Wait, what did you do?!” you demanded, jumping to your feet and glaring up at him, “You didn’t kill anyone else, did you?!”
A twinge of disdain passed through his features. His hand landed heavily on your shoulder and you were shoved back down onto the bed with a 'tsk' of disapproval, as if scolding a misbehaving child.
“Fortunately for you, no. Your previous place of employment has simply been condemned for multiple code violations that have mysteriously come to light during a surprise investigation, and your insurance company has been informed that they’re facing a lawsuit if they don’t reevaluate your claim with a more positive outlook.”
Relief flushed through your veins and you thanked him meekly. You wouldn’t have been able to live your life knowing you had caused the deaths of so many people, let alone friends.
“So, what now?” you asked.
“You have two more wishes before your soul belongs to me.”
He said it with such finality and ease that you almost didn’t react at first. Once his words settled in though, oh, panic quickly followed.
Gaping up at him in wide-eyed disbelief, you tried to stammer out some rebuttal or plea, but nothing would come out. Panic soon gave way to defeat as you realized there was no obvious way to get out of this ordeal. It had been clear as day on the coin.
Thinking on the offending piece of metal, you looked over and snagged it up, reading the inscription once more.
“Clutch this coin to thee whilst ye make a plea
In return ye shall become my endless devotee”
“So that’s what this meant,” you sighed quietly, before gazing at him once more, “And there’s no way to bargain out of this?”
He looked mildly pleased by your inquiry, letting out a little hum before falling back into an ornate chair that definitely hadn’t been there a few seconds ago.
“And what would you bargain?” he purred, “What could a simple little human such as yourself have to give to me, other than your soul of course.”
You cursed his infallible logic and stayed quiet as you tried to think over your options. Truly, you had nothing else to give him; no money nor gifts. Your soul was the only valuable thing you owned, and there was no undoing what had been done. A person had died because of your wish.
With a heavy sigh, you sat up to your full height and prepared yourself mentally.
“Is there a time limit? Do I have to make my wishes today or can I think about them?” you asked.
“You’re free to use them when and wherever you wish. However, do not think this a loophole. Choosing to postpone your wishes until death does not release you from this contract. Your soul will still belong to me when you die.”
Well fuck. There went that option. If you were doomed no matter what, you might as well make use of the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity... right?
“I’m going to need time,” you whispered.
“Fair enough,” he replied, finally taking a step back, “You have my calling card. You can call for me if you have any questions, otherwise, you know what to do.”
He strolled back to the window and snagged the dismembered head, flashing you a wide smirk that framed his fangs perfectly.
“I’ll just be taking this with me. Hope to hear from you soon, darling.”
#Demon!Dark#Dark/reader#female reader#PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS PEOPLE#This chapter is a little dark#heh... dark#pun not intended#two part series#Chapter 1
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A Very Merry Christmas (4/4)
We're ending this little series with a steamy little Christmas celebration for our favorite little birbs. Thank you all for following this series. I had a lot of fun writing this story.
Chapter Three of A Very Merry Christmas is here.
I'll focus on a few other TimRae projects and finishing a few other stories. Would you be interested in an AU?
Here's a steamy Christmas celebration, my loves!
~~~
Christmas dinner was a sin, really. It was the most delicious meal Raven ever had in her lifetime – Alfred truly did wonders in the kitchen. She still silently marveled at the normalcy of the Wayne family celebrating Christmas with a Christmas ham, creamy mashed potatoes, and array of vegetable dishes and sides, and a delirious amount of desserts. It felt strange to watch Bruce Wayne carve into the ham and gingerly place a rather large slice of ham on an annoyed Jason’s plate. The emotions in the room were strange – hurt still bubbled low and raw underneath the surface, but there was a level of protectiveness, forgiveness and care she could feel all at once with the family.
While everyone was still full and dutifully placing dishes into the dishwasher (“Alfie should not wash dishes, you little shits,”), Raven, Cass and Alfred carefully portioned off leftovers into containers for everyone to take home tomorrow.
The house smelled like Christmas as Cass steered her back into the sitting room where the large Christmas tree was bright and warm. If she blinked, Raven thought she was in an old Christmas movie as she watched Dick and Bruce settle a few more gifts under the Christmas tree. Their movements ruffled a few sprigs of the tree and Raven could smell the fresh scent of pine.
“Presents time,” Cass whispered into her ear and pushed her into the plush rug next to Tim, who easily caught Raven by the elbow and helped her settle in next to him. Cass pushed a plate stacked high with desserts into Raven’s hands, “Eat,” before bounding up to the couch to settle next to Bruce.
Raven stared at the gingerbread men and colorful thumbprint cookies warily before shooting Tim wry smile. “This is so much food,” she whispered to him, while watching Tim chuckle and pluck a colorful peanut butter Christmas cookie, his favorite, off her plate. Alfred had taught her how to make them, which thankfully turned out passable by Alfred’s standards. Tim didn’t seem to mind the burnt edges.
“We’re growing superheroes, we need our calories,” Tim said teasingly before quickly devouring the cookie.
Raven leaned into Tim, pressing into his side as they settled comfortably against each other. Curling her legs under her and feeling just a tiny bit drowsy from all the food, she carefully balanced the plate on her lap. “I don’t think I’ll fit into my uniform after all of this,” Raven breathed in resignation and took a careful bite out of a gingerbread Batman.
Tim made a dismissive sound and grabbed another peanut butter cookie while the rest of the family was busy pouring themselves glasses of eggnog and hot cocoa. “I definitely do not mind you out of your uniform,” he whispered discretely into her ear, earning a blush and exasperated eyeroll from Raven.
“Shut up,” she shoved Tim lightly, and she smiled at his amused chuckle as he plucked another cookie from her plate and crawled towards the large coffee table to grab them some hot eggnog. He carefully crawled back to her, half a cookie in his mouth, balancing two glass mugs of eggnog in his hands. Raven accepted the small glass mug and took a careful sit and immediately felt the warm rush of alcohol and spicy, creamy sweetness coat her tongue. Delicious.
“Okay, presents!” Dick announced after Alfred finally joined the family, not after depositing a large Christmas log on the table much to everyone’s delight. Bruce dove right in and began handing out slices.
Raven settled back and watched in a mixture of fascination and amusement as everyone eagerly handed out gifts. Bruce received a Green Lantern shirt from Jason, much to his chagrin. Damian received a new easel stand from Bruce. Jason got a new holster with tech upgrades from Tim. New ballet shoes for Cass from Dick. Alfred received some incredibly fancy pair of gloves from Damian. Dick chuckled in amusement at the Hufflepuff scarf he received from Cass (Both Dick and Cass seemed to have taken quite a liking towards Harry Potter).
There were more gifts that were passed around and opened and Raven took great pleasure to take in the domesticity of the scene in front of her. She ignored how her stomach leaped and warmed at the occasional ‘Thank You’ and the hug she received from Cass for the ballet tickets (“We can go together!”). She still was not entirely used to having this kind of doting attention directed towards her. This year she and Tim signed the tags of all the gifts for the rest of the Wayne brood with their names together. It was a surreal act, a first in their relationship (since last year they just kept to themselves), making this feeling of inclusion into this little bubble very real. She watched as Damian carefully unwrapped the silvery wrapper of their gift for him, her gaze briefly catching sight of the familiar tag she and Tim meticulously cut out and signed. She felt her heart leap briefly and marveled how a simple strip of paper could affect her.
They gifted Damian with leatherbound sketchpad and graphite pencils which Tim had carefully picked out for the younger boy. She watched as the corners of Damian’s lips curled slightly into a smile as he lifted the large sketchpad and inspected the lettering of Damian Wayne carefully pressed into the leather. She knew that Tim and Damian were not always at best terms, but Tim still was very thoughtful of his younger brother’s interests.
“Thank you, Raven, son,” Bruce smiled kindly over at the couple, holding up a large leather satchel. Tim had mentioned that Bruce needed a new bag for work, so he and Raven tried to find one and worked on customizing it with a few more hidden panels and locks.
“Welcome, B,” Tim beamed and quickly went through the codes and panels with the older man.
Raven was busy making plans with Cass to catch a performance at the New York City Ballet Company for their Spring season with the promise to use a portal to pick the younger woman up in Gotham. Tim returned and sat down next to her and gently pressed a small present into her lap.
“Oh,” Raven looked at the small red package in surprise. She caught Tim’s bemused smile and playfully rolled her eyes. “Wait, let me get yours,” she said and hurried towards the tree and grabbed the medium-sized gift. “Here,” she offered him a stern look. “Don’t shake it,”
“What is it?”
Raven settled next to him and placed her own gift into her lap, curiosity piquing slightly at what could be in the box. “Just open it,” she nudged him gently while watching his fingers pull at the ribbon and meticulously unwrap the giftwrap.
“Oh,” Tim pulled out a Sigma camera lens from the box. He blinked and stared at the new model, surprised at the gift. They briefly talked about getting new lenses for his camera a few months back, Tim was touched that she even remembered that conversation. “This isn’t even out on the market yet,” Tim marveled.
Raven shrugged and smiled mischievously. “I have my ways,”
Tim carefully returned the lens into its box. Leaning in he pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. “Thanks, Rae,”
Raven hummed, a warm blush dusting her cheeks, and she ducked her head. Focusing on her gift, she unwrapped the gift carefully and stared curiously at the grey box. Carefully lifting the lid, a small smile spread across her lips as she stared at the little note she found on top of a pair of very fuzzy blue socks. ‘For your cold feet.’
She released a soft huff of laughter and pulled out the impossibly soft and fuzzy socks. She shot an amused look at Tim, who quickly returned hers with a familiar boyish grin of his own. Pushing aside the colorful box stuffing, she pulled out a portable mug heater and a beautiful kabuki mask from his last trip to Japan.
“Thanks, Tim,” she pressed a soft kiss onto his cheek.
“There’s one more,” Tim gentled nudged her shoulder, prompting her to look back into her gift box and rummage through colorful paper before fishing out a small velvet pouch. She cast Tim a curious glance, before turning back to the little pouch and carefully opening it. Turning it upside down, she knew it was jewelry when she felt the light weight of a chain slide down the pouch and drop into her hand. “Tim,” she breathed.
It was gold necklace with a little bird in flight pendant. The pendant looked delicate and finely made, Raven could see the details of feathers on the little bird’s outstretched wings. The little pendant slid down her palm as she shifted her hand in the warm light, the delicate weight of the necklace tickling her palm. She never really thought much of jewelry, but her heart warmed at the thoughtfulness of the gift.
“Do you like it?” Tim asked carefully, leaning into her space, and gaging her reaction. He knew that he shouldn’t be all too worried over her not liking the gift, he already knew that she appreciated small tokens and trinkets. Early on into the relationship Tim learned that Raven did not seem to care over expensive and lavish things, but she enjoyed simple treats and gifts from his business travels and missions. She did the same by bringing rocks or other strange trinkets from her off-earth missions. Yet the little golden necklace seemed to unwittingly rattle him just a little bit, he thought.
Raven smiled and nodded. “It’s pretty,” she mumbled, careful to keep the little conversation between them as the rest of the Bat family busied themselves with their own presents and conversations. Leaning into his space, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You shouldn’t have,”
“Well,” Tim chuckled and took the necklace out of her hand and gently pushed her shoulder to turn her around for him to put the necklace around her neck. “I would have wanted to get a bat pendant, but that would have been weird,”
Raven released a huff of laughter as she pushed her hair out of the way and allowed Tim to fasten the necklace around her neck. The little gold bird settled against her red reindeer sweater. Absently fingering the little pendant, before turning back to Tim to show him how it looked. She smiled as she watched him beam at her, blue eyes bright in mirth. He looked happy and content, bathed in the warm Christmas lights and wrapped up in his dorky Festivus Christmas sweater. Raven’s heart warmed at the sight, the Tim she met so many years ago was so different – much darker, and she enjoyed seeing this new light in him. Leaning in, she kissed Tim. “I love you, you dork,”
Tim hummed and offered a mumbled ‘I love you’ back before gathering her into his arms for a quick hug. Aware of others around them and the curious glances they shot their way, he released her and pressed a quick kiss to her temple before they settled next to each other. While Raven busied herself with Cass, Tim caught Bruce staring at them, his gaze warm and there was a small smile on the older man’s lips. Tim felt a little flustered at being watched but felt relieved to find himself in a better place with Bruce and the rest of the family. Offering the older man a small smile, Tim was glad that he and Raven decided to spend Christmas together with the family.
“We should take a family picture,” Dick announced, his Gryffindor scarf clashing terribly with his cat Christmas sweater. There was a loud cacophony of agreements and grumbles (“So many dramatics, dickface”) as Dick herded people to the small couch by the Christmas tree and had everyone settle around Bruce and Alfred.
Raven blinked, suddenly unsure where to place herself in the middle of people moving around the living room for the family picture. She awkwardly stood up and made a grab for Tim’s camera. “I’ll take the picture –”
“No!” Cass jumped to her knees and stopped Raven from picking up the camera from the table. “You sit with us,”
Raven felt heat rush to her cheeks at the invitation. “But I –”
“You’re one of us now,” Dick chirped from his perch on the couch’s armrest. His arm was slung over the back of the couch behind Alfred and he smiled warmly at Raven.
“Sit,” Tim mumbled warmly into her ear, gently pushing her lower back towards the couch. He easily caught on her sudden discomfort, catching the way her brows drew together in worry. Smiling gently, he gave her another gentle push before he took the camera and worked on setting up the tripod and timer.
“Come sit with us, Raven,” Bruce said while wrapping an arm around Damian next to him. Bruce easily caught her flustered glance and tilted his head towards the side where Cass had settled down next to the Christmas tree.
Raven tried to hide her surprise and embarrassment as she ducked her head and hurried to sit down next to Cass by the foot of the Christmas tree. You’re one of us now settled low in her stomach and surprisingly sent warm jolts up her spine – she had not expected that invitation. She felt Cass’ hand wrap around hers and she looked up at the younger woman in surprise. Cass offered her an encouraging smile and nudged her shoulder. Raven offered a small one in return as she allowed these new feelings to settle in.
“Hurry up, Timbers. Let’s get it done within this year’s Christmas maybe?” Jason’s annoyed voice drifted through the living room and Raven listened to Cass giggle next to her. “My hot eggnog is getting cold, and I’d like it warm, thank you very much.”
“Hold on, one sec,” Tim mumbled. He was busy tinkering with the camera settings, making sure that the lighting was perfect, and the exposure was just right. After making sure that everyone was in frame, Tim pulled out his camera remote. “Okay, got it.”
Hurrying towards Raven and Cass, Tim settled down on the floor next to Raven and gave her gentle smile. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer to his side, he squeezed her shoulder encouragingly. “Okay, everyone. On three, smile. One, two, three!”
“Wait now? Or on three? Or after?”
“On three, Dickface!”
“Boys!”
“Three!”
As the sounds of the camera shutter filled the room, Raven smiled and leaned into Tim. Whatever discomforts and flustered feelings she may have had early on, seemed to have slowly dissipated – like a weight she had been carrying on her shoulders had lifted. She belonged. Leaning into Tim more and feeling his arm just tighten a little bit more around her, Raven basked in the warmth of belonging.
The picture turned out great.
~
They all settled into their own rooms later that evening after everyone had their fill of eggnog, hot cocoa, and the Christmas Yule Log was miraculously eaten up. (“When you raise boys, leftovers are rare,” Bruce told Raven with a chuckle) A round of ‘Merry Christmas’ filled the living room followed by amusingly stiff yet warm hugs among the men (except for Alfred, who warmly hugged his brood) and a promise of Christmas leftovers for breakfast for everyone.
Raven and Tim silently shuffled back to their room carrying their gifts. Raven was surprised she even received gifts that evening considering that none of them even knew that she would be coming. The cashmere scarf from Alfred was beautiful (“I wasn’t sure who Master Tim would bring, but I would think every young woman would need a beautiful scarf”) and the Christmas-themed Batman sweater was funny (“We didn’t know who you were,” Dick shrugged apologetically). Bruce gifted her with a first edition Mark Twain book, undoubtedly pulled out of his personal library, but she loved it. (“You’re welcome to come and visit the library, or our home, anytime.”). Damian surprised both Tim and her when he silently offered them a thick rolled up paper before scurrying back to Bruce’s side and stuffing his face with cookies. When she and Tim unfurled the paper, they were surprised to see a beautifully drawn pencil drawing of both of them asleep and curled up into each other in one of the many sitting rooms of the house. It was beautiful.
Just as they carefully deposited all their gifts on Tim’s study table, Raven heard a little huff and scuffle by their door. Titus’ head peaked through the open door, obviously on his way to Damian’s room down the hall. The large dog whined, begging for Raven’s attention. Leaving Tim to change and get ready for bed, Raven released a soft chuckle and went over to the large dog.
“Hey boy,” she whispered and knelt to offer some scratches. Titus huffed loudly and promptly plopped down on the floor and rolled onto his back for some belly rubs. Raven eagerly complied, rubbing the dog’s soft fur.
Raven chuckled as Titus gave a low huff and whine as she scratched just the right spot. She heard Tim move in the background and slowly appear next to her, watching them in amusement. “Titus is going to miss you,” Tim chuckled while rubbing his face with a towel.
Raven hummed and she briefly looked up at Tim, noting that he had already changed for bed. Taking that it was her turn to get ready, she gave Titus one last pat on the belly and finally stood up. “I’ll miss him too, but not his sheer force of a dog,” she said with a small smile and stood up. They both watched Titus whine and get to his feet, watching Raven curiously. With a sneeze and a huff, he sat by their door. “Night, boy,” Raven gently patted the dog on his head before gently nudging Titus out the door and closing and locking it.
Pressing a kiss to Tim’s temple, she slowly shuffled off towards the bathroom to wash her hands and get ready for bed. She could hear Tim climb into bed and tinker with his phone as she heard the distinct tapping of keys, she was sure that Tim was busy checking emails and some work-related project from WE. She could feel the gentle push of his stress and it was a little surreal how well she knew Tim. While admittedly, there was still so much to learn from each other, Raven oddly caught herself surprised at how well they complemented each other despite the physical distance between them at times.
Despite her earlier hesitations of coming to meet Tim’s family officially, Raven was glad they made this trip. She understood his hurt a little bit better. She got a glimpse of how much he cared for his family, despite the tension that often bubbled low beneath the surface. She understood and saw Tim more, a rawness she was privileged to see, and her heart unconsciously warmed to have shared those moments with him.
Frank Sinatra’s ‘Have yourself a merry little Christmas’ crooned softly from the bedroom and Raven smiled. Feeling warm and full, Raven was glad she was here with Tim. She silently hoped for more of this. These quiet, raw, moments between them. Funny how she now found herself wanting this kind of raw intimacy.
After washing her face and brushing her teeth, Raven stripped down to her underwear – thankfully a matching lacy black pair. Not bothering to change just yet, she slipped out of the bathroom and leaned against the doorframe as she listened to Sinatra’s voice and watched Tim frown at his phone screen.
“I’m not sure Frank Sinatra will appreciate you frowning so furiously at his singing,” Raven teased, while playfully crossing her arms.
“There’s just a report –” Tim paused and openly stared at her figure, drinking in the black lace. “Oh,” He sat up, leaning against the headboard and watched her move towards the bed with piqued interest. “Hey,”
“Through the years we all will be together…”
Raven released a soft chuckle. “Hey,” she replied, lips curling every so lightly as she felt the familiar press of desire and attraction press against her. Drinking in his own boyish grin and the way his muscles rippled as he carefully placed his phone on the nightstand while not breaking eye contact with her had her own desires pool low in her stomach.
“Merry Christmas,” Tim said as Raven reached his side of the bed.
Raven hummed playfully. “Merry Christmas,” she replied and climbed into his lap, Tim’s hands immediately settling on her thighs as she sat down.
Tim grinned up at her boyishly and ran his hands up her thighs and over the swell of her hips. Fingers teasingly hooked into the sides of her lacy underwear and his lips curled further into a smile as he caught her amused stare. “May I unwrap my Christmas present?”
Raven released a thoughtful hum and ignored his fingers press into her hips. Leaning over him, she instead slipped her hands underneath his grey shirt and teasingly tugged it up his body while pressing a kiss to his neck. “I was hoping I could unwrap mine?” she mumbled into the underside of his chin as she pressed her body into him and felt his hands splay over her hips and butt. She tugged at his shirt once more and they fumbled to remove it while Raven lay over him.
They kissed languidly, both basking in a warm Christmas glow that settled low in their abdomens and left warm tingles up their bodies. Fingers were needy and gentle as they pressed into familiar curves and scars.
Raven felt nimble fingers run up her back and make quick work to unfasten her bra as she kissed him deeply. With a soft inhale, Raven sat up on Tim’s lap and allowed the garment the slide down her shoulders. Raven raised an eyebrow playfully as she caught Tim’s heated gaze, watching her remove her bra and drop in on the floor. For good measure, she teasingly rocked her hips into him as she felt his erection press against the apex of her own growing need.
Inhaling sharply at the steady rocking of her hips, Tim’s fingers dug into her hips and slowly slid up her waist for a steady trek up her chest. “Definitely the best Christmas, I must say,” Tim announced, hooded eyes eagerly drinking in Raven’s naked form.
Raven teasingly raised an eyebrow and ran her hands down his abdomen, watching in satisfaction as the muscles contracted in contact. She hooked her fingers into his sweatpants. “I still need to finish unwarp—”
Titus’ loud snuffling interrupted them as he sniffed the bottom of their bedroom door. Raven paused, lips lifted into an amused smile, and they both curiously watched as the silhouette of a large nose danced across the small crack at the bottom of their door. There was a low whine and a lot louder snuffling.
Tim shot an annoyed-amused look at this door. “Go away, Titus. You’re killing our Kinky Christmas mood,” he said, which of course did not achieve anything with the silencing charm still in place in the room.
Raven chuckled. With a little spark of magic that danced through the crack, Titus released a loud huff, before scurrying away from their bedroom door. With purple eyes dancing in amusement, she turned back to an equally amused Tim. “We should get a pet,” she said, tilting her head to the side thoughtfully and she regarded Tim’s surprised expression.
Tim blinked, surprised at the announcement. Scooting further up against his pillows to sit up better, he dragged Raven closer to him on his lap. The pads of his fingers pressed into her waist. “A pet?” he repeated, curious at this sudden announcement.
“Yes, a pet. An animal,” Raven rolled her eyes and squeezed his left forearm playfully.
Tim paused, gaging where this was going. He watched Raven curiously, waiting for her to explain but she seemed to wait patiently wait for his reply. He blinked. “Uh, okay? But we’re rarely together as often as we’d like in one location. So maybe a,” Tim paused and drew his eyebrows together. “A fish?”
Raven released a soft huff of laughter. “I’m pretty sure a fish needs just as much care as any other animal,” Her gaze softened a little bit as she took in Tim’s curious look and the corners of her lips curled up. “You always said you’d like a cat and I thought we could get one together?”
Tim’s chest warmed at Raven’s explanation. She remembered their conversations of wanting to own a cat as a child but never having been able to. Tim smiled warmly up at Raven, as a rush of emotions spread across his chest. It was always so easy to remind himself why he loved Raven because of her simple acts of kindness and thoughtfulness. “I’d like that,” he said. Curious, he pressed on. “So, it moves around with us? A few months in Gotham and Jump at a time? How do we –”
“I could be more in Gotham,” Raven cut in, tilting her head thoughtfully as she looked down at him.
“Oh,” Tim breathed, as realization slowly dawned on him. A pet – something they’d share together, the feeling of permanence bubbled low underneath his skin and the thought left him just a little bit breathless. “More time in Gotham?” he repeated, sounding terribly like an old record, but he needed to confirm what he was hearing and what it meant.
The corner of Raven’s lips lifted slightly, and she shifted in his lap as Tim sat up fully to lean against the headboard. Fingers pressed into the dips of her waist, and she felt a blush spread across her cheeks and neck as she felt his warm press of emotions against her – want, love, happiness.
“Yeah,” she replied and absently traced an old scar along Tim’s right forearm. “I’ve been thinking of getting a degree at Gotham University, have a life more outside of the Titans,” she shrugged nonchalantly. “I’d still help where I can, but –” Raven blinked thoughtfully and stared at Tim. “I’d like to have a life as Rachel as well,”
Raven watched as a smile grew on Tim’s lips. She returned his smile, her own emotions a whirlwind in her chest as she thought of the different prospects of the future. “That’s an excellent plan,” breathed Tim, eyes shining and his grin wide with excitement and happiness.
“Yeah?” Raven asked, unconsciously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. They occasionally talked of the future and their current arrangements, but her plans offered unspoken possibilities they both seemed eager to explore. “That is, if Batman is okay with having a half-demon resident in Gotham?”
“Fuck Batman,” Tim huffed and pressed forward to kiss Raven, muffling her bark of laughter. Pulling away from the kiss, he smiled “So, a cat?”
“We should look at shelters,”
In a rush of emotions, Tim kissed her again. The promise of so much more between them seemed to teasingly dance in front of them and he was eager to take what he could get. He felt Raven hum and melt into the kiss, leaning deeper into his embrace.
“I love you,” he breathed after finally pulling away and gently pressing another kiss to the corner of her lips. Basking in the joy of the moment and the unspoken promise of what lay ahead for them, a cat and so much more, Tim pulled away and carefully leaned towards his bedside table. “I have another Christmas gift,” he announced and with unusually clumsy fingers, he pulled the small item out of the bedside drawer.
Raven’s brows furrowed as she curiously watched Tim blindly fumble through the items in his drawer. She kept her balance on Tim’s lap, as he twisted and tried to keep his balance over the edge of his bed as he rummaged through the drawer. “Here,” Tim announced and turned back to her a little too quickly, eager to present to her what he pulled out of the depths of his drawer.
“What – oh!” Raven felt her heart stutter to a halt and her breath was knocked out of her lungs. She stared at the small black box in front of her with a wild mix of emotions. She blinked, wondering perhaps she was seeing things, but yes – the little black box was there. Her heart jumped into her throat. “Tim.”
Tim blinked at her tone and jumped as his own thoughts and stray emotions seemed to catch up with him. “It’s --- ah,” he breathed, and Tim was sure he could barely hear his own thoughts over how loud his heart was hammering in his chest. He shifted in bed, bringing Raven closer to him. Her eyes were wide, staring at the little box in his hand.
“It’s not an engagement ring,” Tim quickly explained, catching the panic and surprise that crossed her face. “I --- ah, yet.” He quickly added, heart beating like mad in his chest and he watched in relief as Raven released a soft huff of laughter and the confusion on her face disappeared.
He pressed the little box into her hands with a nervous laugh. “It’s not an engagement ring,” he repeated and offered her a small reassuring smile. “Yet – we didn’t talk about that. But --- yeah,” Tim wrapped her fingers around the small box and held her hands. “It’s just a ring I thought you might like,”
There was an inexplicable warmth that spread through Raven at the unspoken promise of something deeper. They had never really talked about how their future may look like – their work offering little stable foundation to a permanent future. But this tonight – these little promises and pictures of what may potentially be ahead of them painted a much clearer picture of the future for the two of them. It left Raven breathless. They were getting a cat, together, and they had this now – this little warm bubble they shared.
“Oh,” Raven opened the box and stared at the silver infinity knot ring perched in the velvet case.
“I thought you might like it,” Tim explained gently, taking in Raven’s surprised reaction. “I just – I like this, us, and everything we have together. It was a dangerous mission, but Lisbon and getting shot and getting paired with you was incredibly lucky for me – well, minus getting shot and losing a lot of blood, but,” Tim shrugged and watched as Raven chuckled softly. “I’m so lucky to be with you, and I honestly don’t think I deserve you or everything that you’ve given me. You’re the kindest, most loving person I know. The last year has been incredible and yeah --- I want more of this. These moments of us together, it’s been incredible. I love you, Rae,” Tim felt his stomach twist and he smiled gently at Raven. “I’d really like that cat with you,”
Raven laughed; eyes filled with unshed tears. “I love you too,” she breathed and dipped down for a deep kiss he eagerly responded to. There was a jumble of emotions that seemed to catch up on her – she honestly wasn’t quite sure if they were hers or Tim’s, but the feelings were pleasant, and she was in no rush to dissect them.
She pulled away when air became scarce and a deeper hunger pressed into her as their hips slowly rocked into each other and fingers pressed into the dips of her ribcage and brushed just under the swell of her breasts, a reminder of their nakedness. Sitting upright under Tim’s watchful gaze, she pulled the ring out of its box and slipped it onto her finger. It fit perfectly. Looking down at Tim’s face, she quirked her lips up teasingly. “Are you sure you didn’t just propose?”
Tim laughed and leaned forward to press a kiss onto her cheek, he felt her grin widen. “I want you to be my cat partner,” he teased and ran his hand down her bare back, enjoying how her warm skin felt against his hands. There was a little window that offered a little glimmer of being more than just cat parents that they both seemed to acknowledge but they did not bother to speak about – yet. “Besides,” he mumbled against the underside of her chin and teasingly ran his hand over her waist. “I’d rather propose somewhere else, not with a 200-pound dog standing guard outside our door and the rest of my family in the house,”
Tim flipped them over, Raven released a soft laugh as she was pressed into their bed and Tim hovered over her with a teasing smirk. Fingers teasingly hooked into the waistband of her underwear and he grinned boyishly at her, long hair falling into his eyes as they twinkled playfully. “And I’d like us to celebrate very loudly all over our apartment and not worry over nosy neighbors,” he said and playfully tugged at her panties. Pressing down for a breath-stealing kiss, Tim nipped at her lower lips and pulled his body flush against hers and gently started to tug her panties down. “For now, we celebrate us being cat parents. I’m going to unwrap my Christmas gift,”
“Yes,”
With a final tug, black lacy panties were thrown off their bed and Tim quickly dipped his head between her legs, tongue eagerly licking wet folds and burying into an addictive warmth. Raven gasped loudly, back arching off the bed, just as hot electricity shot through her body and desires pooled low in her abdomen.
“Tim!” she gasped, her thighs straining against his forearms as he pressed them wide open. Raven’s world seemed to turn into a blurry haze as heat just ignited her skin. Blindly grabbing the sheets to anchor herself and her reeling world, Raven buried her right hand into Tim’s hair and gave it a sharp tug as he hit a particular delicious note in his ministrations. Groaning, Raven felt her titter dangerously out of control.
Enjoying watching her coming undone, Tim continued with his careful ministrations of measured licking and strokes. Humming in delight as he felt her sharp tugs in his hair, he peered up at her and watched in satisfaction as continued to writhe in delight. Spreading her wider open and digging his fingers into her hips, Tim’s tongue buried deep within her and eagerly stoked a fire that made her sing.
Raven felt the world melt away as she felt herself quickly tumbling over the edge as Tim continued to stroke and suck, quickly sending her into oblivion. With a cry, Raven felt her body tumble over the edge. The world seemed to explode as she fell through the sky and her body roared at lick after lick after lick – continuously stoking flames and propelling her into the abyss.
The world came back around her slowly and the first thing she heard was her unsteady and rapid breathing. Her senses came back one of after another, her skin hot and sticking against the sheets despite the cold winter air that brushed over her legs. She lay spread eagle, all her limbs weak, and she gasped for breath as the heat within her belly still roared and her core throbbed deliciously.
“Fuck,” she breathed, blinking up at the old wooden ceiling and thanked the gods for their common sense of using a silencing charm.
“Hmm,” Tim made a humming sound of agreement from below and Raven lazily lolled her head in his direction to catch him still draped over her thighs and hips. He looked like the cat that ate all the cream – quite literally with the way his chin glistened. Raven blushed at the sight and her desires roared lowly for more. Nimble fingers danced over her heated flesh, dancing across her inner thighs and dangerously close to her throbbing core – teasing her with each stroke. Raven involuntarily bucked into him. Fuck.
“That was the best present to unwrap tonight,” mumbled Tim with a soft grin. He watched her sigh softly as he ran his hands up her waist. “Need to do one more thing before we move along,” he announced and quickly began kissing and nibbling on her hip bone.
“What are you doing?” Raven asked in between breaths as Tim nibbled and sucked on her hip bone, teeth scraping against heated flesh. She gasped as teeth dragged across her skin and she felt herself buck into him, cashing the delicious friction.
With a wet pop and a satisfied grin, Tim looked up at her, catching her blown blue eyes over her heaving chest. Tim felt his emotions hum in satisfaction, he loved watching her come undone and loose herself. “Just leaving a little mark to celebrate the occasion,” he said, eyes trailing back to her hip bone.
Raven’s brows furrowed together in confusion before releasing a soft huff of exasperated laughter as she saw the blossoming red bite mark on her skin – on her hip bone. “You didn’t,” she threw him an accusatory smile.
“Oh, I did,” Tim kissed her rib cage as he crawled up her body. Pressing a kiss to the side of her right breast, he dragged himself up her body and enjoyed the silky press of her skin against his. Pressing into her and enjoying the subtle roll of her hips against his own, he kissed the underside of jaw. “Thought it’d be a good touch to celebrate our Kinky Christmas,”
Tim had lost his sweats at some point earlier and Raven felt him brush against her inner thigh. Chasing the silky heat and his hot emotions, she laughed and wrapped her arms and round his shoulders, drawing him flush onto her. “You sap,” she whispered and caught his lips for a kiss. Feeling him brush against her, she whimpered softly and wrapped her left leg around his waist.
Tim rolled his hips against her teasingly, his cock brushing against her entrance and he released a breath he was holding in anticipation. Teasingly, he kissed the corner of her lips and smiled. “You like it, admit it,” he said while grabbing her leg around his waist and digging his fingers into her thigh. He grinned at the soft mewl and how their bodies rocked into each other.
“Yes,” She whispered, slowly loosing herself again. Her fingers danced over his shoulders and traced old scars. Rocking her hips against his and chasing the heat that was building up, Raven tapped his shoulder and hungrily brushed up against the silky skin of his cock. “But,” she whispered and her breathing stuttered as Tim started to kiss her neck and continued to teasingly rock into her. “I – I’d rather,” she mumbled, and she felt him nibble at the junction of her neck. “You fuck me into oblivion to celebrate our cat parenting future,”
Tim dragged his teeth along her pulse point and listened to her stuttered breathing. Allowing a fire to consume both of their desires, Tim promptly crawled over her and grinned down at her wolfishly. Rocking his hips into hers and brushing against her entrance teasingly, he spread her wider for him and pulled her in for long, bruising kiss. “Gladly,” he growled and all but impaled himself into her hot heat in one fluid motion.
“TIM!”
Much later, when they lay spent against each other and basked in the afterglow of lovemaking, they’d agree that this was perhaps the best Christmas they ever had – the promise of more Christmases together, as a cat family, seemed to glimmer teasingly.
#TimRae#tim drake#raven roth#teen titans#young justice#batman#No Beta we die like robins#TimRae Fanfiction
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Aaaaaah!!! Please please please write about wedding clothes, I need more of the Yearning
(note: please reblog, since that’s how we get prompts for future chapters!)
anon 1: Prompt for the renouncement AU. Surely the happy couple (plus assorted Huaisangs and juniors, if you like) need to meet with some chefs and sample a gazillion interesting things to decide on the banquet menu. WWX, of course, samples all the wines...It would also be lovely if you wrote them getting dressed and having their hair done to match the gorgeous fanart of the two of them kissing one another's hands...
anon 2: renouncement verse prompt for the wedding arc: sizhui and xiao-yu help wwx with a practice run for his wedding hair, and lwj has a surprise for each of them!
Despite Wei Wuxian’s insistence that Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen were going to far too much trouble for the union between their two clans, his brother and future brother-in-law refused to do away with the wedding rehearsal--a grand event in its own right, with a reception for the two bridegrooms’ families and an official exchange of gifts--and set the date for the longest day of the summer, a fortnight before the actual marriage ceremony.
“You’ll enjoy the party,” Jiang Cheng scolds, when Wei Wuxian tries to complain. “And you don’t even have to do anything, so be good and let me and Zewu-jun handle it.”
In the end, Wei Wuxian spends the rehearsal morning tasting wine, because three kinds of liquor are usually served at weddings in Yunmeng: with the sweetest and most delicious drinks poured out alongside the food, and the stronger, sourer ones reserved for later in the night, after the newlyweds retire to their bridal chamber. Surprisingly, Lan Xichen tags along to help him choose the first liquor, and approves of the golden honey-plum wine so highly that he buys a whole case to take back to Gusu with him.
“I leave wine bottles as offerings when I burn incense for Mingjue-xiong,” he explains wistfully, as the two of them go back to the clan quarters with enough fengmi jiu for the dinner party. “He would have liked this, I think.”
After Li Shuai and Yu Zhenhong finish sorting the liquor, Jiang Cheng displays Wei Wuxian’s wedding dowry, and Lan Xichen hands over the bride price, while Wei Wuxian tries not to choke on his own spit from his place at Lan Zhan’s side. He knew about the dowry Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling were settling on him, of course--there was a trunkful of silk sheets in violet and blue, and three deep chests of new gowns and slippers tailored to fit his height and slim shoulders, and then a tea set and a box of gold jewelry. There was also a larger case of jade and silver trinkets for him to wear after moving to the Cloud Recesses, where gold was largely forbidden for the sake of breaking the law against extravagance, and Wei Wuxian had to promise not to touch any of it until he and Lan Zhan officially start living together in the jingshi.
Jin Ling decided to present him with a box of baby’s essentials, which Wei Wuxian thought was ridiculous--the only children he and Lan Zhan will ever have are A-Yuan and Xiao-Yu, both of whom are far too old to actually use the gift, but his nephew looked so pleased when he presented his dajiu with the tiny shoes and dresses that Wei Wuxian shut his mouth and accepted them without protest.
After all, he and Lan Zhan might really end up with a new baby sometime in the not-too-distant future, if Wei Wuxian’s propensity for acquiring small children is anything to go by.
But none of this prepared him for the delivery of the bride price, which turns out to be six thousand golden taels from the Gusu Lan treasury to make up for the loss of Lotus Pier’s newly-instated head disciple and the zongzhu’s elder brother, not to mention the only legitimate heir to Yunmeng Jiang. Jiang Cheng doesn’t even bother to look gracious when he sees it, as Wei Wuxian notes with a cough that sounds more like a strangled scream than anything else--because his shidi seems to believe that a small fortune in gold is his due for having to part with Wei Wuxian, even though Lan Xichen will be compensated for about a fifth of the bride price on the actual wedding day,
“Did your brother just bankrupt your sect so you could marry me?” Wei Wuxian demands, half-crazed as Lan Zhan ushers him back to his bedroom to bathe and dress in his freshly-tailored bridal robes. “Lan Zhan!”
“My uncle set aside a bride price for me before I was born, since he guessed that I would require no less than five thousand gold whenever I decided to marry,” his intended shrugs. “Hurry up and dress, sweetheart, or we will be late.”
Wei Wuxian relents and takes a hurried bath while Lan Zhan goes off to tend to his own ablutions, watching Sizhui and Xiao-Yu play together from behind the privacy screen as he scrubs his back and arms and pours perfumed oil into his hair. Sizhui seems to be trying to wrangle A-Yu into an embroidered green coat and trousers, but the baby looks far more interested in Wei Wuxian’s clothes: namely, the red and purple wedding gown, since he manages to snatch the shining silk robes out of his xiongzhang’s hands before building a nest in his pillow-basket with them.
“Xiao-Yu is a bird,” he insists, as Wei Wuxian drops his cake of soap and laughs himself hoarse at the sight of him. “It’s my nest! Go ‘way!”
“A-Yu!” Sizhui cries, nearly stunned speechless. “Didi, those are A-Die’s wedding robes! You can’t play with them, so be a good boy and listen to xiongzhang, or--or you’ll make Yuan-gege cry!”
Xiao-Yu only squints at him before turning up his button nose. “No!”
But Lan Zhan arrives a few minutes later and coaxes the baby out of his basket with a stick of haw candy, leaving Wuxian to heave himself out of the tub and draws on his underwear. After that, the three of them lure Xiao-Yu into his tiny silk coat (by feeding him all the candy he can eat, to keep him from running away) before Wei Wuxian finally dons his bridal ensemble: a deep red overgown with lotus blossoms sewn onto the sleeve-hems in lilac and gold, while the skirt and shoulders boast a shower of stray golden petals falling from the heart of a single central flower.
“Let me do your hair,” Lan Zhan murmurs, as if this were their actual wedding day instead of the rehearsal dinner. “You look beautiful, Wei Ying.”
Wei Wuxian feels his heart quiver at the compliment as A-Yuan steps forward with his lotus headdress, pinning it into place in front of his high-combed bun so that Lan Zhan can secure the tiny gold chains fastening it to the back of his head. He often noticed his friend’s good looks before they were engaged, of course, which is the only reason why Lan Zhan finding him beautiful in return has flustered him so--and he tries to put the thought from his mind, or at least shove it away so that he can examine it later in private.
Anyone would find it pleasing to hear such a compliment from their bridegroom, he thinks, before blushing himself half to death when Lan Zhan leans down to kiss the side of his face. Get it together, Wei Wuxian!
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Broken Things 12/24
by: mldrgrl
Rating: varies by chapter, rated R overall
See Chapter 1 for summary and notes
Fort Worth is not the city that Boston is, but it’s working it’s way up. It’s bustling and busy and the first time he’d taken Jesse and Jimmy with him, Mulder had feared he may lose the brothers to the excitement of it all. He was pleased to find out the pair were more like him and preferred a slower pace and less crowds. He doesn’t have to worry about them gambling or picking fights or looking for any other kind of trouble.
The demonstration they give and the training they provide to the postal service is a success. The horses are installed in their new home and position as a delivery team and Mulder will be bringing eight horses back to the ranch to train as a set of two teams. He celebrates the job well done by giving Jesse and Jimmy an early bonus and sending the two off to do some sightseeing. Deciding he’d like to do a bit of shopping himself, he sets out from their hotel to the city center.
For the last few weeks, Mulder has been making a mental list of the things he’d like to get for Katherine. He doesn’t care if she protests, he has a mind to spoil her, and she’ll just have to get accustomed to being spoiled. His first stop is a book shop where he inquires after the most current science journals and texts. While browsing the bookshelves, he also finds a copy of The Taming of the Shrew and purchases it for a laugh.
The next stop he makes is to a rather impressive three-story building called The Martin-Brown Co. It advertises clothing, dry goods, and other notions, which is exactly what he’s after. He buys ten yards of a wool fabric dyed a shade of blue that reminds him of her eyes, two pairs of boots using a template he secretly traced of Katherine’s shoes for size, several pairs of stockings, a new shawl, an overcoat, and the valise he promised. Everything is to be wrapped and sent to his hotel.
The last stop he makes is to a jeweler. He would give Katherine his mother’s ring, were it not for the fact that it currently resides in a safe deposit box in Boston. Even if it were in his possession, he has a feeling that Katherine would consider it too lavish and perhaps she would be right. Though beautifully made with several square-cut diamonds, a working ranch would not be the best place to wear such a ring.
He wants to get something to symbolize the marriage though, not just for her, but for himself. A simple gold band is easy enough to find for his own finger, but it’s tougher to pick just the right ring for his wife. A very nice salesman assists him in trying to find the perfect piece.
“I want it to be nice,” he tells the associate. “She’d probably like something plain, but I still think it should at least have a stone in it. I also don’t want her to fret over it getting in the way of the household chores.”
“I think I can help you with that,” the man says. He pulls out a tray of nice-looking bands, diamonds of various shapes and sizes twinkling from all of them, but still none of them seem quite right.
He looks through four trays of rings and has it narrowed between a gold band with a row of very small diamonds and pearls or a silver band with three one carat diamonds, when another ring catches his eye.
“What’s that stone?” he asks the clerk.
“That’s a sapphire. Would you like to see it?”
“Yes.”
The man takes the ring of the tray and hands it to Mulder. He inspects it carefully. It’s a gold band with three stones inset in a row of small squares, like patchwork almost. The middle stone is the sapphire, flanked on either side by two diamonds.
“What do you call this design?” Mulder asks.
“In the middle where the sapphire sits is called a pinched square mount. On either side of that is what’s called a diamond mount on a geometric plaque. On the shoulder here you’ll see there’s criss-cross etching.”
“I think this might be the one.”
“An excellent choice.”
“Let me just...let me just look at them one last time and give me a minute to consider.”
“Take your time, Sir.”
Mulder puts the ring down and looks over the trays again, focusing on the three main contenders. He has doubts about the three diamonds and so just looks to the sapphire and the diamonds and pearls.
“What is this?” he asks, pointing to a different ring that he seems to have missed in his earlier inspection, focused as he was on finding the perfect stone. “Are those hands? Holding a heart?”
“Yes, Sir. It’s a claddagh ring. It’s Irish.”
“Irish?”
“Yes, I can’t say I know the origins, but you’ll note the inside is stamped with what this type of ring is meant to symbolize.”
Mulder turns the ring around to read the inscription. “Love. Friendship. Loyalty.”
“We have this one as well, if that doesn’t suit you.” The clerk pulls out yet another tray and the same design of the ring Mulder is holding is etched into the interior of the band with loops around the band that look like infinity rings.
Mulder is torn. He’s leaning towards the sapphire because the stone is gorgeous, but this claddagh ring seems more suitable, even if it’s not as elegant or flashy. He’s not the one that will be wearing the ring though, Katherine is. And he tries to think about it from her perspective. He could probably buy three or four of these claddagh rings for the same price as the sapphire, but the value of the simpler ring feels immeasurably greater.
“That’s the one I want,” Mulder tells the clerk, nodding to the etched silver claddagh ring the man is holding.
“Very well.”
“And the gold band as well. What type of boxes do you have?”
“Right this way.”
Mulder follows the clerk to the other side of the store where there is a case of boxes on display. He selects a black box, oval-shaped, made of leather. There’s a small gold latch at the front and a gilded border on the top of the case. The interior is standard velvet and satin.
After Mulder leaves the jewelry store he heads back to the hotel. The desk clerk informs him his packages have arrived and been taken to his room. He closes himself in the room and looks at the items that are neatly placed onto his bed. He takes the ring box out of his pocket and opens it up to look at it.
Diana comes to mind. All these items he’s purchased would seem paltry to her. He was always happy to lavish her back when they were courting, but she was never satisfied. There was no such thing as too much for Diana and nothing was ever good enough. Katherine is different and he needs to remember that. He fears that Katherine will see all of this and be cross with him. The perfect simplicity of the ring in his hand makes him realize that there is more to loving someone than purchasing trinkets.
Money is no object to him. The ranch does well, but it’s not the source of his income, it’s the source of his joy and passion. He doesn’t know with absolute certainty, but from what he does know of her, he feels that Katherine gets her joy from learning new things and from stimulating conversation. Out of all the items packaged up on his bed, what she will probably be the most grateful for are the four issues of a magazine called Science: An Illustrated Journal and one called The Popular Science Monthly.
The ring and the books aside, he tells himself that the items he’s purchased are practical. He hasn’t gotten anything she can’t use and what wouldn’t be considered unnecessary, but that’s not really the point.
Well, he isn’t going to take the items back, so he packs each one up into the new valise and thinks that maybe it’s a good thing that at the very least, everything fits nicely into the travel bag. He keeps her ring in his pocket though, along with the little pouch that holds his band. He doesn’t want to wear his quite yet. Not until she can put it on his finger for him.
↭
Katherine is setting out items onto the table in the kitchen to make a pie. Mulder and Jesse and Jimmy are due back the next day and she’d like to have something nice to welcome them home with. She’s just sat down to start peeling apples when she hears Queenie bark.
Over the last month, she’s grown accustomed to the sounds of the ranch, and in particular, the way that Queenie herds her flock of sheep. Her bark is usually quick and no-nonsense. This bark that she hears now raises the hairs at the back of her neck. This bark is more like a snarl. A warning.
Katherine jumps up from the table and hurries to the back door. She sees Queenie by the pens, crouched low and backing away from something slowly. The dog growls and snaps as she lunges forward and then retreats again. Initially, Katherine can’t spot the threat, but then she sees it, black as midnight and sleek, slinking around the side of the corner pen with caution, but without hesitation. She’s heard there were panthers in these parts, but never seen one.
Melvin is running from the bunkhouse, waving his arms and hollering. Richard is behind him with a pistol. She doesn’t spot Trevor, but now is the time that he’s usually watering the animals so he must be out there somewhere, trapped where he is.
“My God,” Katherine whispers before turning and running to the other side of the dogtrot.
There are four rifles hung on pegs in the middle of the wall and a cartridge belt hanging alongside them. Mulder had told her before not to touch the firearms. They’re always loaded, he’d said, just in case. Leave them be. Of course, he probably assumed she had no idea how to use one. She grabs the cartridge belt and swings it over her left shoulder and then pulls down one of the rifles and holds it crosswise against her stomach and pointed to the ground as she runs back to the door, cocking the lever as she goes.
Without much thought beyond eliminating the threat, Katherine stands positioned in the doorway, a good fifty to sixty yards from the pens. Melvin is whistling and hooting, trying to get the enormous cat’s attention. All the animals are agitated. The goats and sheep are bleating and the hogs are grunting. The chicks are fluttering in the coop and clucking like crazy.
“Stay back!” Melvin yells at her.
“Don’t move,” she yells back, raising the butt of the rifle to her shoulder. She cocks her head and closes her right eye, lining the cat up in her sights. She’s not in a good position to shoot to kill, but she can definitely incapacitate if she aims right.
She has to do it quick. The panther is stalking Queenie quietly, not at all threatened by the barking dog. It’s not close enough to lunge, but it’s getting there. “God, help me,” Katherine mutters, and then cocks the hammer and squeezes the trigger. The recoil causes the butt to slam into her shoulder, as anticipated. She winces, but doesn’t take her eyes off the panther. It screams seconds after the discharge, baring its teeth as one of its front arms collapses. She hit it in the shoulder, just as she’d aimed to.
There’s no time to waste. She reaches up and grabs a cartridge off the belt over her shoulder and shoves it into the ejection port. It’s cocked and reloaded in under ten seconds, but it feels like eternity. The panther is now on the defensive, limping backwards and screeching as Queenie barks and takes small lunges towards it. A frothy and red saliva starts to drip from its mouth.
Katherine keeps the rifle at her shoulder and the panther in her sights as she steps sideways to get behind Queenie. She prays as she moves that the dog keeps its distance and she prays that the panther doesn’t charge forward with a surge of adrenaline. Worst case scenario, she shoots the dog before the panther. Best case scenario, she only has to kill one living creature today.
Queenie snaps viscously at the injured panther and it hisses in response. As it raises its head and bares its teeth, Katherine fires once more, hitting it in the jugular. The panther goes down without a whimper. Queenie is still barking and snapping as Katherine lowers the gun. She walks to the dog and pulls her back by the scruff to hold her in place.
Melvin comes running. He’s puffing and sweating by the time he reaches her and grabs hold of Queenie as well as the dog twists and yelps to be set free. Richard walks to the panther and crouches low over it, inspecting it from all angles.
“Where’s Trevor?” Katherine asks.
“I ain’t seen him.”
“Trevor!” Katherine calls.
“Go on,” Melvin says. “I got Queenie.”
Katherine stands and scans the pens. The animals are still agitated, running to and fro and loudly voicing their anxiety. She spots Trevor crouched low behind the hog trough, trembling. She sets the rifle up against the fence and climbs over into the hog pen and kneels down beside Trevor. It’s obvious he’s wet himself and she puts a hand on his back to soothe him.
“It’s alright,” she tells him. “It’s over.”
“I didn’t know what to do,” he tells her. His voice is shaking right along with the rest of him.
“You did exactly as you were supposed to do, you kept yourself safe.”
“I saw him come down from that hill back yonder and I tried hollerin’, but nothing came out. And then Queenie started kicking up a fuss and all I could think was that I got to hide.”
“You did good, Trevor. Queenie’s worked up, but she’s alright. Who knows what that panther would’ve done if it had spotted you.”
“You shot ‘em.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Where’d you learn to shoot like that?”
“My father taught me, when I was small.”
“I ain’t ever had a father.”
“I know, sweetheart.”
“You wasn’t scared?”
“I was terribly scared.”
“But, you didn’t look scared.”
“I had the advantage of being near to the rifles, knowing they were loaded, and knowing how to shoot. If I had been in your position, I would have done exactly as you did.”
“My hands don’t want to seem to quit shakin’.”
“That’s alright, it’ll stop soon enough. Let’s get you up and you run on to the bunkhouse and clean yourself up, alright?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“You bring your clothes on over to the laundry basket when you’re done and I’ll get a load done tonight.”
“Sorry to be so much trouble.”
“No trouble at all, sweetheart.”
Katherine helps Trevor stand and keeps a hand on his back. He’s taller than her by about half a foot, but he seems small in this moment. He is careful climbing the fence, still weak with fear. She climbs over after him and takes up the rifle. The cartridge belt is laying in the dirt. She hadn’t noticed it had slipped from her shoulder. She picks that up as well and waits until Trevor has started to weave his way to the bunkhouse to go over to where Melvin and Richard are hovering over the dead panther.
“I put Queenie up in the barn and give her some hamburger,” Melvin says. “She’ll calm herself in due time.”
“When this story gets told,” Katherine says, trying to sound as serious and authoritative as she can. “I’d like you to please do me a favor and make it very clear that Trevor was trapped where he was. I know how boys are and the last thing Trevor needs is to be shamed for being afraid of a panther.”
“I’ll see to it,” Melvin says.
“We best get rid of the carcass before any scavengers come sniffing around,” Richard says.
“I’m going to see about the pie I was fixing.” She turns to walk away and then stops. “I take no pride or glory in killing that panther. I did what had to be done.”
“You done good,” Melvin tells her.
Katherine nods and returns to the house. She dusts off the cartridge belt and hangs it back on the nail beside the rifles. She loads a cartridge into the chamber, leaves it half-cocked, and puts it back in its place.
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@ava-sr said: EE i do apologize that this is late, but maybe a small request because of my moblit-brainrot. which dates he would like to take you on? maybe like one of those guided painting classes? aGh all i know is that man is the absolute sweetest and i love him with all my heart
Types of dates with Moblit pt.1
{ Moblit x reader | tw:none | fluff | modern }
{ "Vanitas Still Life" 1662 by Edwaert Collier c. 1640 - after 1707 London or Leiden }
Ideal dates : these are dates he plans up ahead, makes sure they go smoothly and you're both are having fun. He really looks forward to these dates, they're like an event for him. He saves them up for important occasions like your anniversary, valentine's day, birthday.
I. Cuddling for hours at a time
you have to understand that in Moblit's overworked and stressful life, moments of respite are rare and far. He's so deprived of touch and love that it's a miracle how he has managed to function without even a beep. The thought of having someone to warm his bed, cradle his worries and put them to rest by simply combing through his hair, never crossed his mind despite having a hundred thoughts running through it per minute.
Some days he manages to forget your existence even, not out of some selfish desire or to belittle you, but out of disbelief, after all it's too good to be true.
You're too good to be true to him.
Your tender words pull him back each time he blindly steps closer to the edge, a never-ending spiral of self-destructive work tendencies awaiting him at the bottomless abyss. Your warm embrace shutting out the swarm of nagging voices meant to guilt him out of rest, to act as if the key to curing his sleep deprivation was to not acknowledge its existence, that fatigue symptoms could be erased by his own homemade placebo remedies.
As if your mere touch could turn anything to gold, and in his case, it did.
It was what made the difference between an anxiety inducing catastrophic day, and a mere rough stepping stone he could easily manoeuvre around leaving his pace steady and undisturbed.
Reminding that it's okay to fail, to give something your best only for it to crumble to dust. It's a process of trial and error, it takes time and patience.
You don't get to choose how well things end up working out, it's not up to you nor is it your place.
And that's why for him, his ideal place in the world is in your arms, to simply let the rise and fall of your chest lull him into comfortable numbness. His features softening as the oxytocin levels rise, courtesy of your warm embrace, soft skin providing just the right pressure against his own.
Laying on your shared bed together, the soft breeze coming from the open windows moves the thin curtains. Moblit is Holding you close as one of his arms sneak around you, fingertips tracing shapes up and down your back. Face buried in your shoulder as yours rests on top of his head, stray hairs almost tickling your nose when you brush against them.
The passing of time does little to his cotton filled mind, occasionally attempting to pull you even more closer as if it's possible. Legs tangled with yours under the heavy blanket despite him hogging most of it.
Every now and then, when a certain amount of time passes, he'd look at you with half-closed eyes, a lidded look of satisfaction before murmuring in his sleepy voice.
"Do you want to get up?" And despite his sincere words and warm tone, his body makes no move to detach itself from your side.
Does he know the soothing effect of the circles he keeps drawing up your back? Or how much him talking with his lips still pressed against your neck makes you melt just a bit.
Whatever it is, Moblit seems confident in his ability to keep you snuggled against him, tucked underneath the warm blanket and fluffy pillows almost muffling your answer.
II. Visiting a music bar
Preferably something with soft yellowish lights, small enough spaces not meant for dancing but to create an intimate atmosphere akin to a music venue.
A jazz club, maybe a brewery.
Dimmed sunlight seeping through the thin curtained window, shadow traces of people smoking outside while making small talk, cushioned bar stools placed around the long bar with a mirrored wall behind it as several aged bottles and fancy glasses with signatures decorate the wooden shelves.
The quiet chatter of people blurring behind the mellow music the band is playing on the nearby stage, smooth movement with relaxed postures as if they've done this a hundred times before, and they probably have.
You're sitting in one of the booths near the window, a private spot where you're far enough for people not to notice yet close enough to still hear the music flowing.
The beat is slow, hypnotising even that the minutes blur together.
Moblit giving you a smile as he comes back with your drinks, sitting opposite of you before handing you the cold glass, ice cubes clinking against each other as you raise the frosted rim to your lips, sugary sweet filling your senses, the cooling sensation of the drink slides down your throat.
There's a hint of citrus in it.
You've learned to trust Moblit's choice in drinks after being together for so long, he just knows what's going to taste good and which kind of drink you seem to need without having to say a word.
He seems comfortable here, even referring to the bartender by his name like they've been friends for a while, and maybe they have judging by the out-of-script welcoming he gave Moblit.
One conversation starts another and both of you find it so easy to talk to each other without boundaries or second thoughts, the smiles and occasional chuckles almost never leaving your features while nursing on your drinks.
He tells you stories from his work and about his co-workers. You find yourself entranced by his seemingly abusered line of work and the amount of chuckle worthy instances a single work day can offer.
That one time Hange knocked the liquid incense oils that someone Levi brought to freshen the place, well to their luck the oils fell directly on an open flame from the nearby scented candle which resulted in the fire spreading through the liquid alcohol between the broken glass.
And despite the feeling of dread, from seeing his files catch on fire this story brings him, the sound of your chocked laughter as you almost spilled your drink over your clothes, made it all worth it for him.
III. Antique shop
There was something to be said about Moblit's yearning for especially old looking things, trinkets, crumpled maps, tea stained letters and silvered mirrors.
You can't miss the gleam in his eyes as he opens the antique store door open for you the chime of the door bells following after. The smell of burning incense lingering in the air alongside the slow ticking of an old wooden clock.
The look on his face is of pure fascination, his eyes following the trail of the objects lined on the tables, from the old oil paintings with hand carved frames to the crystals reflecting sunlight next to the colourful stones. Observing as he carefully walks behind you through the narrow spaces between the tables and shelves.
Pulling your attention whenever he finds a particular curious thing to show you as if it's an offering, it can range from music boxes with a really familiar melody that you can't quite remember or a beautifully shaped rose quartz stone that feels cool against your palm.
Whatever he brings, it often manages to intrigue you in some way. Moblit could always notice things other people would skip over otherwise, scanning the tables was like a small treasure hunt.
He'd always pick one or two leather journals, almost filled to the brim with ink scribbled pages and tea stained spots, personal diaries dating back to the 90's and if he's lucky they might edge towards the 80'. He likes to read them, live in someone else's shoes even for a split second, puzzle pieces falling in place as he figures out what kind of person the author was.
Of course sharing his discoveries with you while having lunch later, not out of pride nor to show off, but out of genuine respect to other people's lives and their dedication for leaving behind a piece of their soul.
IX. Roadtrip
It's something he plans months ahead in advance, he genuinely wants to make the best out of the few weeks off both of you got to spend together. Making sure to plan a set of destinations, preparing snacks and food, packing your essentials and renting a big enough van.
A small getaway even, to completely leave everything behind and set out on a carefully planned adventure with the one he loves most, you.
Enjoying the fresh weather, the high sun and fast wind as both of you roll down the windows, fields of green and yellow meet you alongside the road the further away you move from the city.
Although be careful; the Moblit behind the wheel is a much much more different than the one you know, he's using all what remains of his self-restraint not to speed down the highway and swirl, the thought crosses his mind every hour or so and he's visibly agitated when you're forced to drive behind a particularly slow driver.
You might even have to remind him of the speed limit occasionally just so you don't end up with a pile of speeding tickets at the end of the trip.
It's like all his usually cautious and calculating demner evaporates into mist the second he touches the steering wheel, Temptations of just flooring it while high on adrenaline still linger in the back of his mind.
Beside that, the trip is a relatively calm one as you get to bask in all the new and different places you'll get to visit. Try new food and walk through different city streets, just the experience of something out of the usual is enough to satisfy Mobilt. Not to mention the fact he gets to experience it with you and just wander around without a purpose or care as long as you're together.
He'll definitely keep in mind what sort of things you seem to like, what intrigues you and the kind of reactions you show. He even started an album filled with mostly your pictures and the things you've seen.
It's most relaxing and filled with low stakes, nothing too fancy but nothing too boring either. Walking the thin line perfectly.
X. Visiting a museum
But not just any museum you see, one centred around natural history. Displaying everything from ancient fossils to full on skeleton displays of a 122 foot titanosaur, depictions of distant relatives of homosapiens and modern evolution trees of the current animals.
Moblit guiding you through the shiny tile floor and between the exhibits while holding your hand, eyes gleaming with passion as he goes on and on about each thing you glance at. Making all the trivial facts seem more fascinating than they have any right to be.
The squeaking sound of footsteps echoing on the too clean floors as four children pass you by, racing each other towards the iron suits of armour on display. They almost fall over the red ropes from leaning too close in, their caregiver seemingly busy talking with a security guard over the 'smoking not allowed' sign.
You spare them a final glance before following Moblit through the corridor leading to the world history & old inventions section. Soon enough he steals your attention again as he begins talking about the first airplane prototype that you can't help but be enamoured by.
Despite there being a sign framed on the wall that sums up the jest of Moblit's lecture, he manages to make it not only less boring but add his own twist and uncommon known facts to it that it feels less of a history trip and of an interesting conversation.
He has so much knowledge that he's so eager not to only share but hear your own opinion and take on it, valuing your view no matter what amount of knowledge you have over the subject.
XI. Painting together
It's an idea that you offhandedly suggested after your museum visit, after all spending an hour in the Impressionism era gallery did leave an impression on you. And so the suggestion of checking out an art store for some acrylics and a couple brushes left your lips on the way home without a second thought.
Well little did you know that the small suggestion managed to latch into Moblit's brain for weeks after, making him spend his free time searching and gaining information on painting and how to start, he even managed to find some really good classes having a limited time course sale
That's how both of you end up in a guided painting class, seated next to each other with aprons on and a pallet to mix paint tubes in. You'll find out how much of a fast learner Moblit is, so much that most of the class he spends guiding your hand through the steps and offering his help whenever possible, although he still remembers not to be overbearing and still gives you space.
Both of you are in your own bubble from the class, being with him makes you feel easy and more reassured. He's like your very own comfort corner that you seek in every party, except that he can walk around with you and always looks out for you.
And whatever you end up putting on that canvas, Moblit will cherish more than any renaissance painting, will even insist on hanging it somewhere in the apartment.
#ava🕯️#Moblit🕯️#fluff🕯️#aot🕯️#moblit x reader#moblit x you#snk moblit#aot moblit#moblit berner#moblit berner x reader#fluff#aot fluff#moblit fluff#types of dates#aot#snk#aot x reader#snk x y/n#snk x you#snk x reader#aot x y/n#aot x you#attack on titan#aot modern au#modern aot🕯
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A Tall and Small Collection | Soren | Beyond the Cover of the Wall
Soren woke a few hours later from a dreamless slumber. His eyes, slightly hazy, focused with more clarity with each blink. His brothers were still sound asleep, breathing peacefully in their beds. Soren rolled over onto his back and stretched. He could feel every muscle in his body constrict and release as he arched his back and pulled his arms down from over his head. He sat up and glanced around. No sign of Brady. [Typical.]
Soren stood and grasped his brothers’ shoulders, giving them a gentle shake awake. “Hey bobbins. Time to get up,” he said gently. Rey and Dorian both moaned and tried rolling over further into the covers, but Soren had seen this before and it wasn’t going to work.
Doing the only thing he knew how to do, he walked to the side of the bed and deliberately, but gently, fell forward onto his brothers. He caught himself with his arms before completely smothering them. They cried out in surprise, which was followed immediately by reluctant moans and smiles.
“No Soren!” Rey muttered sleepily. “Just a little longer.” Soren grabbed the top of the blankets and rolled, pulling them off of his brothers while simultaneously rolling himself in the blanket.
“Nooooo!” Dorian curled in tighter to himself, laughing at the sight of his brother rolled up in the blanket. “It’s cold!” Soren untangled himself from the blankets and tugged at his brothers’ ankles.
“None of that. We’ve got important work to do, remember? We’ll stretch and get going. You want to still want to go borrowing tonight, don’t you?” Soren’s request was met with a charged silence. It was obvious they wanted to go while also maintaining the warmth of their beds. They yielded and sat up, stretching as big as they could before putting on their shoes and stretching. Soren guided them through each stretch until he was satisfied they were limber enough for their trip. They grabbed their borrowing bags and headed off into the walls, but not before Soren took the two mice pelts and wrapped his brothers in them.
Going out was dangerous and being seen was even more so. It was a precaution to ensure the secrecy of the borrowers. If they were spotted, which was entirely unlikely, hopefully the human would simply think they had mice. Soren reminded himself he needed to teach them about mousetraps and how to get around them.
Soren nodded reassuringly before leading the way into the labyrinth of walls before them. Rey smiled nervously back while Dorian beamed with determination. Soren couldn’t help but, in this moment, remember his first time outside the walls with his father.
A stiff silence followed them as Soren guided them through the walls. There was an anticipation and nervousness clinging to them which every step intensified. Soren felt a hollowness pumping in the center of his heart as if to remind him that his brothers were relying on him and him alone to succeed.
Soren shook his thoughts from his head. He couldn’t think about Brady’s failures or the long-term goals. He had to think about the here and now. He squeezed through the boards, making sure his brothers were right behind him, before making the final trek around the wall to the electrical cover.
Soren stood at the wall’s edge, the beams of light illuminating his hazel eyes. He took in a deep breath to calm his nerves as he summoned the words, the same words, his father spoke to him before his first borrowing trip. He turned toward his brothers and knelt, beckoning them forward to his side. He grasped their arms and looked them in the eyes.
“Are you ready?” he asked. Dorian and Rey nodded, albeit stiffly. “It’s okay to be nervous and scared. Remember?”
“Rely on our instincts. Turn nerves into strength,” replied Dorian. Soren nodded before gripping his brothers’ arms just a little tighter.
“There’s something else,” he said. “I need you two to promise me something no matter what.” Slightly alarmed, his brothers nodded.
“The apartment should be empty. I’ve had my eyes on this place for a while and I checked it out earlier. Everything should go smoothly. Still, anything can happen. The human may come back early. They may still be in the apartment. Any number of things. When we’re out there, I need you to listen to everything I tell you to do without question.”
“We can do that,” piped up Rey.
Soren paused to look his brothers’ eyes. “This means everything I tell you to do. If I say hide, you hide in the safest place you can see immediately. If I say run, you run as fast as you can back to this place here. If I say leave me, you have to listen to me and run back here. Do you understand?” His brothers’ eyes filled with panic.
“Soren…”
“No,” Soren interrupted his brother. “I have more experience than both of you. I know what to do in an emergency, most of them anyway. When we’re out there, you have to trust me. Will you trust me?”
The boys were quiet for a moment longer before nodding. “Yes.” Soren smiled.
“This is going to be fun and it is exciting. I don’t think anything is going to happen, but just in case I have to lay these ground rules.” Soren stood and readjusted his pack and his hook. “Alright, let’s go borrowing.”
Soren pressed his ear against the electrical cover and listened while Rey and Dorian watched intensely. It was clear their focus was at maximum levels. He listened closely. There was the hum of the refrigerator, which was overpowering, but Soren was satisfied for the moment. He gestured to the door.
“Want to listen?” he asked. They glanced to one another first before stepping beside Soren and pressing their ears to the cover.
“I don’t hear anything other than that hum,” said Rey, keeping his voice quiet like Soren had taught them. Soren nodded approvingly.
“This cover comes out behind the fridge. We’ll have to go out to see what we can find.” With that, Soren stepped to the side and opened the cover. “There’s another entrance that comes out beside the kitchen table, but that’s only for emergencies.”
Soren stepped through the cover, brothers at his heels, and crouch-walked until he reached the side counter. He listened again. Silence. He straightened and pointed in a broad, sweeping motion, to the kitchen.
“This is the human kitchen. If you’re looking for food, this is usually the best place to look. This human, however, tends to keep a lot of dried goods in that side room over there. Why do we look for dried foods?” asked Soren expectantly.
“It’s easier to store than fresh,” replied Dorian.
“Right. Humans also keep dried food in those cabinets. Why don’t we just put a line from here to there? It would be easier,” questioned Soren.
“Because a human could find it?” asked Rey, partially unsure of his answer.
“Right again. Now, to get to the side room, we have to run along the walls here, cross by the couch, and slide under the door. Okay? Don’t worry. We’ll take it nice and slow,” Soren said with a reassuring smile. Jittery, his brothers smiled back.
Soren waited for his brothers’ attention before taking a deep, calming breath and stepping out to instantly duck under the cabinet ledge. He reached around the corner and signaled his brothers to follow. They were on his heels in an instant. Carefully, he guided them around the side of the room, along the wall by the kitchen table, and quickly darted across to the couch.
Each step of the way, Soren made sure they practiced good habits – checking all directions, listening, staying low. The next move was longer, but only by a little. Soren could hear his heart pounding in his ears. A quick glance confirmed that his brothers were just as nervous as he felt; the main difference being they looked jittery and scared.
Soren smiled warmly before reaching over and giving both of them a quick tap on the shoulder. It seemed to be the nudge they needed. The three of them darted from the relative safety of the couch to the small gap beneath the door. Soren threw his bag onto the ground and laid on his front before sliding under the door. Dorian and Rey both followed, not half a fluid as Soren was when removing their borrowing bags and sliding under the door.
They were met with a much smaller room than the living area. It was like the back room they had practiced in for the month leading to this moment, except it was filled with numerous strangely shaped objects. Some were round with long sticks attached. Some were black and white rectangles. Some looked like big black boxes with netting across the front. Dorian and Rey both seemed to shrink and cling closer together after surveying the room.
Most importantly, the ground was littered with partially empty and opened chip bags and plenty of small trinkets the boys could choose from. Soren quickly checked the corners and the shadows. Nothing. It was quiet. [Today’s a good day.]
Relaxing slightly, Soren slung his bag back over his shoulder and headed for the nearest bag.
“Remember, don’t take what the human may notice. Let’s get some chips, then we’ll look around. Be sure to always stay in eyesight of me if you want to explore, okay?” said Soren. Dorian and Rey, daring not to leave their brother’s side, eagerly walked on either side of him. Dorian and Rey stared at the bag, eyes wide, as the opening was nearly double their height.
“Why do the humans have to be so big?” asked Rey rhetorically.
“That’s the greatest question of them all,” sighed Soren before ducking into the bag. He crouched and tested the staleness of the chips by bending them. Satisfied with their freshness, he began placing them into his bag. After gathering four or so, he stepped out and motioned for his brothers to go in and gather some for themselves.
Dorian ducked inside and began placing fragments of chip into his bag. “How can you tell the good from the bad?” He asked.
“Depends on the chip, but usually the quicker they snap in half, the fresher it is,” replied Soren. After filling their packs, they spent some time walking about the room. Rey and Dorian had dozens of questions on their mind, and Soren tried to answer them all – for what he knew anyway. Soren glanced around the room, noticing the volume of partially eaten chip bags. [This is probably why the mice came in the first place.]
While borrowing, both brothers selected a trinket which they believed the human would not miss. One of them being a thick piece of plastic which was rounded on one side and pointed on the other. It was a pearly blue color and it could fit on the wall or as a shield with the right holes. The other found a hard-plastic cylindrical piece. It was black and had strange symbols on it. It was tall in the middle and had curved edges which flattened out. Rey decided to wear it as a helmet.
Their borrowings successfully secured in their bags, they made the trek back across the room and under the door. They made it to the couch and back along the wall without incident. It wasn’t until they rounded the final corner and were within eyeline of the electrical cover that they heard something.
The sound of jingling keys. Both Rey and Dorian froze in their tracks. Even from behind the safety of the refrigerator, they began trembling in their boots. Soren felt his heart jump into his throat and his body tense. He forced himself to take a breath as to maintain the attention of his tagalongs. Soren, thinking quickly, pulled at their arms and toward the electrical cover.
“It’s okay. The human can’t see us from here,” Soren reaffirmed. “Still, we need to go.” Rey and Dorian nodded, allowing Soren to pull them inside the safety of the wall cover. A smile spread across their faces.
“We… we did it! We just finished our first borrowing trip!” Dorian and Rey cheered, jumping into a series of shoulder shakes and fist bumps. Soren let them have their moment before pulling them into an embrace.
“You’re official borrowers now. What do you think of that, bobbins?” Soren reached up past the mouse skin hoods and ruffled his brothers’ hair. Their celebration was brief, but the meaningful looks they gave one another meant the world. What he wouldn’t give to see the look in his father’s eye, knowing he helped train his brothers in their first borrowing trip. “I’m so proud of you two,” muttered Soren.
They stayed embraced for another few minutes before beginning the trek back to camp. Soren led the way and listened as Rey and Dorian talked about what they thought was the strangest and what they were going to do with their borrowings. It wasn’t until they were almost back to their camp when Soren heard Rey’s soft, kind voice call out his name.
“Soren?”
“Yes Rey?” he replied.
“We… well… we were wondering… have you ever, you know, seen a human up close?” asked Rey. Soren stopped in his tracks for only half a moment before turning and walking backwards until he slowed to a stop.
“I’ve been pretty close a few times,” he replied. “It’s definitely not something you want to take lightly. Humans can be completely unaware, but some of them are very smart. You have to always be thinking ahead.”
“So, you’ve never been seen?” asked Dorian. Soren shook his head.
“No; at least, not that I know of,” he said. Soren felt his chest tighten as he thought about what his father told him about his encounters with humans. “Just remember, if you are seen, you can’t freeze.”
“What if we’re… you know, caught? What do we do?” asked Rey.
“We stay quiet. Like I said, humans can be pretty oblivious. They’re bound to think we’re not as smart as we are as long as we don’t speak to them. If something doesn’t happen instantly, they may try and turn you into a pet. If that happens, bide your time and don’t let them know you understand,” replied Soren. He remembered his father telling him about a cousin of his who accidentally spoke to a human. Needless to say, it didn’t end well. Thankfully, the secret of the borrowers was kept.
“We won’t say a word,” promised Dorian. Soren snapped out of his trance and let his lips turn up into a partial grin.
“You’d better not get caught then. Come’ere! RAWR!” Dorian and Rey shrieked and sprinted past Soren toward their camp, being chased the whole way there. Soren had to admit the trip had gone much smoother than he thought. The timing couldn’t have been better and what they borrowed would easily last them a few days.
When they arrived back at camp, after a vigorous wrestling match between the brothers, Dorian and Rey displayed their borrowings to their father who, for the first time in a long while, was back at camp. Brady, their father, seemed mildly impressed at their borrowings, but kept his complements to a minimum. Brady even had the audacity to mention that the entire trip should have brought back more food for their stores, which brought a distant hint of disapproval and sadness to the young borrowers’ eyes. His lack of complete praise for his two boys was enough to churn Soren’s insides.
[Figures. I know you couldn’t do better.] Thought Soren bitterly as he stored their food. “Okay. Let’s get you two some rest. Stretch, change, and lay down,” instructed Soren. Within a few minutes, the brothers were tucked snuggly under their blankets awaiting Soren’s arrival.
On days or nights when Soren went borrowing, he, without fail, would make sure to sit with his brothers until they fell asleep. He would sit, back against the baseboard, and let Dorian and Rey lay on him. Then, much like their mother, Soren would hum the melancholy melody of Soren’s father, Aaron, until they fell asleep.
Soren’s eyes lulled as he leaned back and hummed. Dorian and Rey were already fast asleep and curled into the crooks of his arms. As Soren fell into a restful slumber, he made a mental note to start laying out the thread to the different rooms. If his brothers were going to borrow, they needed to know how to get around the apartments.
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#borrower#g/t#gianttiny#theborrowers#tinyhuman#giantworld#story#narrans#borrowing#adventure#wall#musician#fear#angst#capture#captured#medical#plan#brothers#bigbrother#liveforyou
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Long Lost Letters
Author: @norbertsmom
Prompt: Going home a few weeks Before Thanksgiving. Due to a tragic death. Cleaning up their stuff. You find a stack of letters addressed to you. You thought he never wrote you back. So, you stopped writing him years ago now older have a family. Writing back to him is a long shot because it’s been so long, but you do it anyways… and wait. [submitted by anonymous]
Rating: T
Author’s Note: Thank you nonny for the prompt. I don’t usually write angst, but I thought I would give it a try. I hope you like it. Thanks to my beta and bestie @mega-aulover for her constant encouragement.
____________
“You ready to do this?” Prim asks me as we walk through the door of our old family home.
“I guess,” I tell her as I look around. It feels so still. Everything is exactly as it was last time we were here over the summer, except mom’s not here. Coming back home without her here is surreal. The three of us shared a video call over the weekend to set our plans for Thanksgiving dinner coming up in a few weeks.
Two days later, I was at work when I got the call from the hospital that mom had collapsed; a stroke, the doctor told me. I had to call Prim and tell her that our mom was gone.
Now that the funeral’s over, Prim and I have to decide what to do with mom’s stuff. There’s no mortgage. Dad made sure of that. His life insurance was set up to pay it off when he passed all those years ago. Now they are both gone. Prim and I both relocated after college, so neither of us really wants the house. It’s not really home any more without them in it. I guess we’ll get it ready for a new family to call home.
Our husbands are both out with the kids. They’ll come back with some packing boxes to help us pack it all up later.
“Bedroom or kitchen first?” Prim asks.
“Bedroom,” I tell her. The kitchen was where we would spend all our time together during family visits. Too many memories there right now.
We head into mom’s room and I have to stop and take a breath. The scent of mom’s gardenia perfume lingers there and really hits me. It reminds me of the hugs she would give whenever we came home, soft and sweet. So much for putting off old memories.
Neither Prim nor I say a word as we head for the closet. We take turns pulling down hangers. Prim set aside a favorite blouse that she wants to keep, but otherwise, most of it goes into the donation pile. At the back of the closet we find mom’s dresses from when she was young, from designers like Halston, and Diane Von Furstenberg. They are considered vintage now. We leave those hanging for us to go through later with my daughter Holly.
The few pairs of shoes at the bottom of the closet go into their own donation pile. On the shelf above the hanging rod are a couple of boxes, keepsakes probably. We each grab a box to see what’s inside.
We sit down on the bed and before I get a chance to open mine, Prim gasps. She has her box open and one by one she pulls out a collection of small trinkets. Things we had given mom and dad over the years when we were kids, a macaroni necklace strung together with yarn, a lumpy clay statue that Prim swears is a true likeness of our old cat Buttercup, and a world’s best daddy keychain, among others.
“I have no idea why she kept this stuff,” Prim says as she wipes a tear from her eyes and sets the box aside. “What’s in yours?”
I lift the lid and I find a small stack of old letters tied together with a ribbon. “Looks like mom and dad’s old love letters.” I hand them off to Prim while I see what else is in the box.
“Ah, Katniss,” Prim says, and I look up. She’s got the ribbon untied and she’s leafing through the letters. “These are all addressed to you.”
“What?”
“Look.” She turns the one in her hand around and I see my name, well my maiden name there in a familiar scrawl that I haven’t seen in ages.
I grab it out of her hand and look at the return address, although I already know who it’s from, my childhood best friend.
We met when we were five and became fast friends soon after. His mom made him work at his father’s shop after school, so I would hang out there to keep him company. We did everything together. We even went to prom together. We were never really a couple, but everyone said we belonged together.
I was headed off to college, but he stayed behind. He said if he was going to inherit the family business, he might as well start working there full time.
“Right before I left for college, he asked me to be his girlfriend,” I confess, tracing the letters on the envelope. “I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship if things didn’t work out. I told him I’d send him a letter with my answer.“
Silence falls between us.
“After I got to school, I missed seeing him every day. I decided that, yes, I did want to be his girlfriend, even if it was long distance. So, I wrote him a letter and included it with my letter back home to mom. I asked her to give it to him. I thought he never wrote back to me.”
“Did you try to call him?” Prim asks.
“Phone calls were expensive back then. You paid by the minute for long distance, remember?”
“Yeah, no cell phones like today.”
“Right. I asked mom in my next letter, but she replied she hadn’t heard from him. I even went to his father’s shop when I came home for winter break, but his mom told me he didn’t want to have anything to do with me. She never liked me much, so I didn’t expect much sympathy from her. She told me he had enlisted in the service. So, I gave up on him. I went back to college that January and made new friends.”
“I’m sorry, Katniss,” Prim says, rubbing my back as she hands me a tissue. I didn’t even realize I was crying. “I’m sure mom had her reasons for keeping these from you.”
We hear a commotion from the living room, and we both realize that our families are here. Prim gets up to go greet them as I frantically dab the tissue under my eyes. I clear my throat. “Give me a minute?”
“Sure thing,” she says as she hands me the pile of letters and pats me on the leg on her way out the door.
I know I need to get up, but I’m stuck in my spot on the bed, leafing through the letters, wondering why my mother would keep these from me.
A knock on the doorframe breaks me from my misery.
“Hey sweetheart.” My dear, sweet husband comes in and wraps his arms around me. He doesn’t ask me what’s wrong, he just lets me grieve. I’m a blubbering mess, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
I realize he probably thinks this is all about losing my mom, and truthfully, part of it probably is, but I have to tell him the truth. So, I take his hand and I tell him all about the letters we found and why they are upsetting to me.
After I’m done, he brushes my hair off my shoulder and asks, “Are you upset you never got the chance to see how things would have worked out with him?”
“No, I have a family, and I’m happy.” I try unsuccessfully to smile.
“Are you sure?”
“The more I think about it, the more I think mom knew things wouldn’t have worked out with him. She was trying to save me the heartbreak, but by doing so, I lost my best friend.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
“Don’t be. If that didn’t happen, I wouldn’t have you. I think my mom knew this was going to happen anyway, you and me.”
“So, you forgive her,” he asks.
“I do,” I tell him, with a watery smile.
“You ready to go out there?”
“Just a couple more minutes. Would you save me some pizza? I’ll be right out.”
“Take all the time you need.” He gives me a kiss on the forehead and walks back out of the room.
I pick up my phone and go online to a popular social media app to look up my old best friend. With a name as unique as his, it’s surprisingly easy to find him. I think for a moment before typing out a note.
Dear Gale,
It’s been years since we last spoke,
but I wanted to let you know I never forgot you.
If you haven’t heard, my mom recently passed,
and I found your old letters among her things.
I just wanted to let you know that I hope you are happy.
I’m happily married now with two great kids.
Your old friend,
Katniss Everdeen - Mellark
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Do you have any headcanons for main 6 set in modern times? What kind of job would they have, what music would they like or whatever else? I love your headcanons, they're always so detailed and on point 💖
I really loved doing this, only reason it took so long is because I definitely over thought a lot of this. Thank you for the ask! I hope you enjoy the headcanons, I definitely want to do more of this! SO when I have the time I definitely will and I actually have a rough plan of what the story and the background for the six and MC’s would be.
The “Event” mentioned references the plague but when and if I get to it that will all be explained.
REQUESTS ARE CLOSED but here is my Masterlist in the meantime!
Asra
You’ll usually find Asra in one of two places, the shop or the local cafe/bakery, living the slow city life.
Asra loves to people watch and more importantly he loves photography, he’s always taking pictures, a lot of them are of MC.
His bedroom wall is plastered with his photography and he sells a lot of them as a side gig on etsy.
He has a great blog too.
But his main focus is the shop, tucked away on a quiet corner street it feels faintly magical. Asra does tarot, sells candles, crystals and other trinkets, as well as herbal remedies that Julian admits work quite well.
In this AU Asra grew up in foster care, so when he finally found his home in the shop he never thought about living anywhere else.
It’s stayed that way for years, sharing a two bedroom flat above the shop with MC, its cluttered at times, filled with secondhand belongings but Asra loves having his own space and own things.
And he so loves taking his little holidays out of the city, bringing back more trinkets that bring good luck and fortune.
Asra always wears sneakers or trainers on his feet, mainly because all he does is walk in the city.
Although he does have a painted van for the shop deliveries; he and MC spent a week painting a swirling pattern on its sides.
His wardrobe is all tees with faded logos and cotton pants but on the rare occasion he decides to dress up Asra has an impossibly colourful blouse and faded jeans he loves to wear.
And there are so many hats! Vesuvia is sunny but he has more hats than he needs, although it's nice to have one for any occasion.
Also has crocs, they are an abomination of pink.
Asra’s phone of choice is an old samsung, he keeps meaning to update it but he’s a bit scared the photos on it will get lost.
Asra and technology don’t always mix well, for some reason...
Even in this universe Asra wouldn’t be Asra if he didn’t have Faust, a mischievous lavender python who always seems to escape her vivarium and ends up in Asra’s camera bag.
When Asra picked her out at the pets store he was told he was the only person she had ever not bitten or squeezed. Asra believes in fate, so he took her back home with him and the two are inseparable.
Asra oh so loves music, and just about any kind of tune can be found on his mp3 however he soon found his favourite to be the chillhop tunes the cafe played everyday. They really relax him.
The biggest Disney fan when he was younger, Asra then slowly decided Dreamworks were better but his favourite movies are those from Studio Ghibli. Asra simply adores the art, the music and the stories.
As mentioned Asra loves photography but he also quickly discovered watercolour paint and he doesn’t claim to be good at it but he does love making little pieces of art for birthdays and Christmas.
Speaking of which Christmas is his favourite holiday.
Asra also dabbles in growing orchids, he's too successful and there are so many he and MC don’t know what to do with them!
Asra’s favourite hobby aside from photography is rollerblading. He’s pretty good at it, cruising through the streets and along the dockside of the city (he definitely dragged MC into trying it out).
Asra never really thought he’d be one to get a tattoo but after getting Faust he changed his mind, since then he has a gorgeous complicated tattoo of the little snake on his shoulder blade.
It was only after “The Event” that Asra got another one; MC’s favourite flower on his hip bone.
Nadia
Nadia Santrivia, she’s beautiful, generous and married one of the richest men in the city, for the most part she’s alright with that.
Although Nadia hasn’t always lived in Vesuvia she’s tuned into the city around her so well, she’s in her element and thriving.
Work doesn’t end, if there was ever a beginning to start with. It's one thing after another; approving designs, attending fancy dinners, opening a charity fundraiser. Life is busy for the CEO of Vesuvia Industries.
Nadia’s happy to run Lucio’s business, because she knows she can do good with it but she can get lonely. Thankfully she has several friends who she can rely on to cheer her on...
The most important thing is that she can be herself, her own person, being last in line for her parent’s business and overshadowed by several sisters Nadia needed an escape.
Vesuvia provided the opportunity.
Nadia’s apartment is sat above the clouds in the skyscraper of Vesuvia Industries, much the same as the other universe home and work go hand in hand when it comes to Nadia.
She’s not materialistic, her apartment is clean and open and perfect for yoga and other purposes that require open space. It's very new and high tech, the coffee machine is her favourite thing though.
The views of the sunrise over the bay are gorgeous.
Ashamed to admit she has tons of shoes.
It’s usually required of Nadia to have the suits and dresses befitting a woman of her status, so when the sun goes down or she has a day off Nadia looks like an entirely different person.
She’s no less stylish, but her airy blouse’s, ripped denim jeans, subtle leather jacket and ankle boots give her a whole different persona, and man does it make her look good on her motorcycle.
Yes a motorcycle, Nadia owns one. It comes out of her garage only once a month but when it does she turns heads.
The rest of the time Naida is pretty eco-friendly with an electric car the business made just for her in a deep shade of purple.
As the CEO of the company Nadia is expected to have the latest iPhone model, her phone is always ringing and if she weren’t so patient she’d probably hurl it off the skyscraper roof.
Nadia always wanted a pet but she could never figure out what kind, and one dropped into her lap literally. Turns out she’s an owl person, although Nadia would never consider Chandra a pet more a companion.
A skyscraper is no place for a semi-wild owl but Nadia is happy enough to make the trip to the stables outside of Vesuvia to see Chandra and give her toys. Such a change from the small owlet Nadia raised.
When it comes to music Nadia is very picky, she spent her childhood listening to her sister’s choice of music and certain songs just put her in a bad mood, except for jazz.
That music preference surprised her but as soon as she discovered Lucio didn’t like it she was hooked. She thought about learning the saxophone (not to annoy Lucio or anything, no definitely not...)
Nadia’s not a big movie watcher, although she is a big fan of disaster movies when the mood strikes (it's nice to think about more chaotic things happening than signing a stack of papers), mainly she only has time to watch tv shows.
Her favourite is the Walking Dead but MC has caught her watching ‘how its made’ shows too. Of course being an avid inventor Nadia would be enthralled by seeing how her car or coffee machine is put together.
Speaking of inventing, although Nadia always wanted to make it her job she’s only ever gotten to approve the inventions her company makes.
It's not entirely what she wanted but thankfully she has just enough time to squeeze in working on her little projects. Ones she hopes will help others one day.
Nadia’s found it super important in the big city to keep herself safe, between her hobbies of yoga, kung fu and fencing she’s a pretty formidable opponent. It’s saved her life more than she’ll ever admit.
Her other hobbies, to list a few are horse riding, polo, piano, swimming, wine tasting, and playing those arcade grabber machines (she has about 50 teddy bears and MC has about the same amount). Most of those hobbies began in her childhood.
Nadia likes to pretend she is above getting a tattoo but anyone who knows her well enough will reveal she has a owl shadow tattoo on her inner heel.
Julian
Poor Julian is the definition of a struggling city batchelor, and he certainly wouldn’t have it any other way.
Still the most well traveled of the group Julian spent his formative years abroad in the army as a field medic (where he met Lucio), now though he’s a lean mean crime fighting machine!
Well he’s a forensics doctor for the Vesuvia PD, but it still counts as being a crime fighter! He’s never really lost that dramatic flair that's for sure.
He’s been a bit of everything; medic and doctor, waiter, translator, actor, sailor, troublemaker and a fugitive (but that’s a story for another day).
But Vesuvia truly is his real home, a place he’s always come back to and where he’s made friends and family, enemies, lovers, and memories.
Sure he lives in the ‘bad part’ of town as Asra calls it, but Julian feels at home enough that it doesn’t bother him, that and he’s got Mazelinka to handle the riff raff.
The two of them share a two-storey house that sits next to his favourite bar, a bit too convenient for Maz’s liking. Despite that the place is cozy and old, all wood flooring and furniture that's been around longer than Julian’s lifetime, it’s filled with the scent of cooking and coffee and other than the box tv and Julian’s phone there's almost no modern technology.
Julian’s room has faded photos of his friends, and postcards from places he’s been too and a few posters of his favourite plays, as well as rough sketches tacked to the corkboard his desk is littered with papers and he even has an old school microscope.
In the mess of his room only Julian can find the thing that he’s looking for, he calls it an ‘organized mess’ when in reality it’s really just a mess.
Unfortunately this extends to his clothing choices too, Julian is terrible at laundry so there is no end to the stains on his mellow patterned tees and jeans, the only smart thing about his wardrobe are his boots and oxfords.
Quite true to form his black trench coat is a constant companion. He usually dresses like he’s in a black and white movie or like a scruffy doctor when he’s in his lab coat.
Still has an eye patch, his depth perception when crossing roads is not great... there are a lot of hospital bills.
Also the reason he doesn’t drive unless he can help it, Julian doesn’t own a car but he’s prone to borrowing one if he needs it (usually from Asra).
Julian is very much the guy on the subway who falls asleep on your shoulder because it's the only place his mind isn’t working overtime.
MC thinks it’s very cute.
Julian’s not really too fussed about his phone of choice, Samsung, Apple, so long as he can make calls and do google searches on symptoms of a flu he’s good. No matter how hard he tries his screen is always cracked.
People often point out the raven following Julian around, he’s not too sure if its the same one but Julian knows its his own fault feeding the scrawny thing when it landed on his window pane. Now it won’t leave him alone, Julian took to calling it Malak and he’s quite fond of the bird even if it likes to cackle for food outside his window at an ungodly hour in the morning.
Maz has threatened to cook Malak on more than one occasion.
Music is one of the few things that helps Julian focus, he’s not usually super into any particular artist or album but his main love is music from musicals and movie soundtracks, if he’s able to do so he’ll sing along.
Lead forensic doctor Valdemar finds it highly unprofessional when they are conducting autopsies.
Almost has no time to watch movies or tv but if you strapped Julian to a chair and put on Brooklyn 99 or any kind of superhero movie he might enjoy it just a little bit...
Honestly though those things are just background noise for him, Julian will put on the tv to keep himself occupied while he’s doing reports. But he loves comedy movies and shows, they might tear him away from his laptop just long enough that he gets a few good laughs.
However if Mazlinka gets the old camcorder out he’s all over watching old home videos of him and Portia and his old hound dog, he’s just so nostalgic sometimes.
Thinks learning counts as a hobby, Julian habitually grabs any book he can to read through so youtube is a miracle in his eyes. Free content, that he can listen to and learn from as well as visually see? Yes please.
Julian learned to play the fiddle when he was younger, for a time as a teen he even went street performing to earn money for Portia’s obsession with bracelet making. He doesn’t play it much anymore but he’ll give MC a tune anyday.
He’s also very invested in cocktail mixing, only thing he mixes is Salty Bitters, he’ll argue any day that the Salty Bitter counts as a cocktail.
Also very invested in his self sustaining bio-tank at work, the other officers are growing concerned about the leeches Julian likes to keep in it. They’re planning an intervention.
The only tattoo Julian had was one forcibly given during “The Event”, his ‘murderers mark’ on his hand. He’s really ashamed of it because it reminds him of the part he had in the disaster that befell Vesuvia.
Muriel
He definitely suits the other universe more, it's even harder to get away from people in this modern world.
But the start remains the same, he was lost and his only friend was Asra for a long time, until Lucio came along and tricked him into doing unspeakable things as a ‘bodyguard’ until he escaped.
People are unavoidable and Muriel keeps to himself during his job as a keeper for a local animal sanctuary, raising and re-releasing wildlife with other volunteers, he practically runs the place.
But the volunteers know not to bother him especially when he goes back to his house on the hill, to take care of his chickens before he vanishes like usual into his house.
No one knows much about him, and he prefers it like that.
Muriel’s home is simple and honestly built for one, there’s only one chair, only one pillow on the bed, only one set of cutlery, only one of everything. It leaks on occasion and always needs fixing, he’ll forgo sleep to fix things.
Who needs more than four hours of sleep anyway?
A lot of Muriel’s belongings are from garage sales, or picked up off the side of the road, not a lot of money goes toward his comfort Muriel prefers that the animals in the sanctuary have comfortable beds and good food.
Muriel’s clothes? He wears them till they die, an usually when he picks them up from a garage sale they’re already pretty close.
For that reason Muriel doesn’t have a specific choice of clothing, he owns jumpers, tees, denim jackets, flannels and whatever jeans and pants fit. He has one pair of khaki coloured boots that are surprisingly well maintained and usually wears a beanie or cattleman hat to hide his face.
Old pick up, old pick up, old pick up! Owns an old pick up truck he fixed up, it breaks down regularly and only plays radio but Inanna enjoys riding in the back. Muriel likes driving a lot on those country roads.
All that’s to be said about Muriel and his phone is this; he owns a nokia and has no intention of getting a smartphone. Ever.
His hands are a bit big for it though, he’s called MC and Julian accidently so many times... and he only usually text’s, so that's awkward.
Inanna is Muriel’s constant companion, and when they’re in the city man do the two of them turn heads. Inanna is a wolfdog in this universe and she definitely looks more wolf than dog.
But she really is a big sweetheart, Muriel raised her from a puppy after she was rejected and placed in a shelter, he knew a wolf dog would need some special attention to grow into a perfect companion rather than a dangerous animal.
Anyone can look at Muriel and instantly think he’s one of those people who would play country music, for the most part that’s true. He does play the guitar and can sing okay, he does like country but his real love of music comes from indie artists.
He can’t really explain it but the music gives him a sense of carelessness and hope he’s never known.
Doesn’t really watch tv or movies, Muriel is almost always too busy for that but he’s found it the strangest thing, Inanna likes watching tv...
After that he got drawn in by the documentaries about animals, he didn’t really realize that people did shows about the habitats and behaviours of animals but he finds himself entranced by it when he passes by.
He soon relented and sits on the floor with his arm draped over Inanna as they watch documentaries about wolves in Alaska.
With the amount of animals Muriel raises anyone would call it a job, Muriel however would argue it's a hobby for him. Sure waking up every hour in the night to feed raccoon babies isn’t ideal but it's never been anything short of joyous to watch them go back to the wild.
Muriel's other hobby centres around his guitar and learning songs to play to himself and maybe a certain person *cough* MC *cough*.
He’s also an avid baker, none of his meals are ready made. Leading on from that he forages for mushrooms, and herbs rather than buys them.
Muriel doesn’t have a tattoo, only his scars.
He thought about getting some but he doesn’t trust someone to touch him that way and also he’s not a big fan of needles.
Probably a good thing otherwise Inanna and all his chickens names would be on his arm.
Portia
Absolutely suits the modern life in this universe, Portia somehow finds the time to do everything, the bustling worker or the relaxed dreamer.
She’s almost everywhere in the city, doing everything at once; working at Vesuvia Industries, grabbing the sweetest iced tea at the cafe, exploring the corruption of downtown streets.
Portia is obsessed with knowing every inch of the city, and what goes on inside it because it's a very strange city with a stranger history.
Portia is a great and helpful assistant to Nadia, but she’s also hiding a lot including her identity as Pasha Devorak the reporter for Vesuvian Times.
She has as many curious secrets as the city.
Portia previously lived in a small studio flat however since working for Nadia she has been lucky enough to afford to rent out a small cottage outside the city. She loves it so much and other than being in an AU not much has changed between the two cottages.
It’s shielded by so many grand trees and a vivacious garden that it feels like her own little world, the inside of the cottage is filled with hand knitted blankets, painted glass figurines and the warm smell of baked goods.
Sometimes its a bigger place than Portia can manage by herself but she likes taking to fixing things as they come along, she definitely is a fan of the saying “if it ain’t broke don’t fix it!”
Her clothing choices are just so cute and by no means is she afraid of showing off her cottage core style; jumpers, skirts, vest tops, crop tops and patterned blouses look really good on her. Of course the garden requires the heavy duty stuff, sweatpants, a tattered tee and the old hoodie that refuses to die.
She’s not to much into heels even though she’s short, Portia prefers pumps and loafers because “comfort over beauty!” (although she would be pretty cute with or without).
Nadia finds Portia’s headstrong and optimism very amusing and definitely takes a few life lessons from Portia.
Who needs to drive? Portia doesn’t, she loves taking the bus or the train wherever she goes. That way she can bop her head to her tunes while watching the landscape go by, in a beautiful intricate place like Vesuvia it's important to take it all in.
That and everyone can agree that Portia behind the wheel of a vehicle is a disaster, she just gets so distracted.
Nadia has offered Portia a new phone many times but Portia is plenty happy enough with her older gen 6 iphone (because if she got a new one she’d have to get wireless headphones!) Also she’d feel bad for Siri.
Unfortunately Pepi the cat came from terrible circumstances, certain circumstances where Portia jumped of a bridge after witnessing someone chuck a mewling bag into the river.
But Portia is so thankful for her amazing kitten, the two of them protect each other. Though Pepi’s idea of protecting Portia is making sure the birds don’t feed from the feeder outside and meowing at the fridge when it’s too loud.
Portia’s music taste is disarming to those who don’t know her well, she is a huge fan of rock, any rock music just so long as it’s good and a classic (ACDC, Queen, etc...) she likes to think she is a connoisseur of rock.
Julian can not put into words how much he abhorred it when his little sister would blast that music to drown out his.
Portia will either watch every movie or show when it comes out or will binge watch a show or movie after forgetting it existed. There is no inbetween, but she loves media, consumes it even.
Detective shows and spy movies are her favourite but she’ll enjoy just about anything unless it's a musical she was forced to watch one too many times because of Julian.
Portia has so many hobbies, one would say too many but she digresses.
Of course gardening is at the top of her list, moreso because the garden always needs doing but she gets a great sense of pride growing her own food and Pepi loves chasing the spiders that hide in the strawberries.
Portia is also a very avid blogger, there is a lot of conspiracy theories on there but with a following of half the city it seems pretty popular.
In her downtime Portia is loves to relax with her favourite soft drink and beat V3suviaC0unt#1 ass on her games console, she finds the shrieking of her enemy to be great fun.Portia’s love of games however soon transpired to collecting action figures of her favourite game characters.
She is very protective of them.
Like Muriel, Portia also doesn’t have a tattoo. It’s not that she’s afraid of needles but she just hasn’t found a reasonably good design to get yet.
Lucio
Lucio is definitely the one out of the six who was made for the modern world, sure being a Count is cool and all but in this world he can have both power and freedom and not have to sit in every meeting called.
He’s never once taken anything seriously, Lucio’s power has been built on the backs of others without him ever having to raise a finger.
It’s happened everywhere he goes, in the army he sacrificed the good of his teammates to rise in the ranks, he forced the Asra’s parents to make him the best prosthetic arm in history, he codled up to an old dying man to get his business and when he found out that wasn’t for him Lucio pawned it off to his wife and rolled onto the next devious plan.
Lucio’s been an army man, a CEO, a crime lord and the cause of “The Event” but maybe one day he’ll rise above those defining moments and be greater (but that is a story for another day).
Of course Lucio did live with Nadia for a time, but when he made her CEO Lucio took to calling his mansion home, Nadia wasn’t a fan of the creepy vibe it gave off which is just as well because Lucio hosts a lot of unsavoury characters...
True to form each room in that place has only the most expensive belongings, every bed is king size and the garage is filled with gas guzzling monstrosities of cars. It’s not cluttered by any means, but it's gaudy and shows off his wealth.
The only place things seem normal is the kitchen, Lucio doesn’t spend much time in there but on the wall sits a board of old memories when he got along with the others, they didn’t always find him unbearable.
Lucio’s torn it down and put it up so many times already he can never make up his mind if he wants to keep it.
Only thing Lucio ever liked about running a company were the expensive suits he was told he had to wear at least that was a great improvement on his fashion sense. Of course he’s not always wearing suits sometimes he’ll just wear a dress shirt with one too many buttons undone and a pair of white chinos and trainers.
Sunglasses are a must, that, and a lint roller. The dogs shed a lot...
As mentioned before Lucio has a lot of very pricey cars, he is the product of what would happen in Portia was given a car, he’d get distracted and crash it into the back of another vehicle.
He’s lucky anyone will insure him and that he has so many cars.
Lucio tried to be different to the ‘normies’ by getting his company to make a phone suitable to his taste. A phone that had two charging ports (to charge it twice as fast) and a waterproof casing (that kept it a bit too dry and hot so it spontaneously combusted in his pocket).
Lucio now has the latest iPhone instead.
Owns a lot of pets, the exotic eels, macaques, cockatoo, etc... The same as he does in the normal universe, none of which are particularly nice and well behaved. He prefers his fur babies Mercedes and Melinchor.
They were two dogs he saw fighting in dog fights and he was in love instantly buying them and bringing them to live with him, chaos follows those two like a bad odour.
Lucio decided that to be the cool rich guy he needed to like cool music, for the longest time he spent his time listening to hip hop no one really ever notices that Lucio in fact hates hip hop, he much prefers pop music.
It's a secret he will take to his grave but MC has definitely heard him singing to Katy Perry’s ‘Firework’ in the shower.
Lucio is the biggest movie buff in Vesuvia, he’s definitely offended when no one invites him to premieres, which is why he’s done all he can to get into movies (with little avail). And he will watch anything and enjoy it, he is usually one of those people who don’t realize the book exists when such a movie is out.
But do you know what his favourite kind of movies are?
Romantic-comedies, or just anything that's classed as romance. Date nights with Lucio are pretty good but he cries a lot, poor guy.
Just don’t get started with Lucio and hobbies, if he’s tried something once he’ll make out he knows everything about it and even if he hasn’t tried it he’ll pretend he has. He’s forever speaking out of his a** but no one dares call him out on it.
That being said Lucio really doesn’t have the capability to commit to a hobby, unless parties count? They don’t? They should!
Although one could say maybe planning parties does count...
Tattoos? Lucio has a few; his army number on the back of his neck, a sword piercing a heart on his chest and the twin silhouettes of the dogs running on the heel of his foot.
#the arcana#asra#nadia#julian#muriel#portia#lucio#modern#au#alternative#universe#the arcana asra#the arcana nadia#the arcana julian#the arcana muriel#the arcana portia#the arcana lucio
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