#pearl just didn’t entirely realise until later
Text
Now and for eternity| Lucifer Morningstar x reader
Fandom: Lucifer ( netflix)
Request:” Can you write an imagine where Lucifer’s wife is like this well known social light that owns her own luxury fashion brand and she starts receiving gifts from an obsessed secret admirer and Lucifer is unknowingly being targeted by the secret admirer who is trying to kill Lucifer in order to get the reader and Lucifer thinks it’s his father trying to ‘strike’ him down for some unknown reason until Chloe point out someone that correlates with the readers secret admirer and Lucifer’s attacker. Feeling some type away about it Lucifer decides to taunt the secret admirer by upping the PDA and romantic gestures getting a kick out in it much to Chloe’s dismay. And once the secret admirer is caught Lucifer rubs it in their face that the reader is his for now and all of eternity before showing the secret admirer his true face. ”
Genre: fluff? I guess
Warnings:death threats, stalking, attempted murder
~~~
It wasn’t unusual to receive gifts and flowers at your office. After all, with the job you worked and the wealthy people you collaborated with, the presents simply represented one of the many perks of being a designer. Except, one friday morning, while examining a particularly beautiful bouquet of pink lilies, you noticed the little card that came with it
“I know they are some of your favorite - <3 “
Usually, work associates would leave a name. Some way for you to know that they value your work and are thinking of you (and maybe to flatter you into giving them a discount), but there was no name on this card, just a tiny heart in a glittery, pink gel pen. Pink lilies were, indeed, your favorite.
You brought the flowers home and told your husband, Lucifer, all about the mysterious gift. You had talked to your secretary and even she didn’t know where the flowers came from, since no one came to drop off lilies that morning. You presumed the sender must have simply forgotten to sign the card, and perhaps your secretary had forgotten about them, with the busy morning she’d had. You and Lucifer had a laugh, imagining the shy and anxious intern that was probably assigned the job, and the scolding they’ll get when their boss finds out about their mistake.
The next morning, a box of your favorite chocolates were waiting for you on your desk. There wasn’t any note, just the same heart, written in the same glitter pen. You dismissed it as a weird coincidence and moved on to working on your designs.
Without you knowing, this also happened to be the first time Lucifer would be faced with a very interesting note. As he was getting ready to leave the police station, he noticed a piece of yellow paper, stuck to his windshield
“Back off of Y/N. Consider this your first and last warning” no signature. Anyone in Lucifer’s place would have lost their shit, but he paid it no mind. He was the devil after all! If anyone wants to take his precious Y/N away from him, well, they can try. It would make things all the more fun. He folded the paper and stuffed it in his pocket before heading home.
The couple shared Y/N’s chocolates that night, talking about who this person might be. Lucifer wasn’t as amused as he had been the night before, if anything he was rather concerned but he didn’t want to say anything about the note to Y/N, because she would freak out.
Nothing really happened for the next week. Anonymous gifts stopped showing up at Y/N’s office, Lucifer didn’t get any more notes and things were falling back in their place, until the day right after Y/N’s latest photoshoot went public and viral. It was all to promote her upcoming clothing line. As soon as she walked into the office the next day, she spotted a red, velvet box, the size of a notebook, in the middle of her desk. On top of it, a note written in the same glittery pink as the other gifts
“Congratulations on your new line. Those photos are gorgeous - J.P. <3”
Inside the box was a gorgeous diamond necklace, looking like it was worth millions. If you hadn’t been concerned about the sudden apparition of all these gifts so far, you sure were now. You immediately called your husband to tell him about the mysterious jewelry, but he didn’t pick up. Unbeknown to you, he was busy ranting to detective Decker.
“I mean, not to be dramatic, detective, but the situation does feel like it’s spiralling out of control. Death threats, sure, those come every other weekend, kind of like fanmail, y’know? But actual gun shots fired at my head, well, that’s where I draw the line.” he ended with a giggle. Lucifer was leaning on Decker’s desk as she was examining the bullet casings Lucifer had brought her from his apparent ‘attempted assasination’
“Where did this happen again?” she said, not taking her eyes off of her work
“Right by that coffee shop ms. Lopez always talks about. I may have lost a bet to her the other day and have to get her coffee for the rest of the week, so I was just exiting the shop when a masked man in a dark blue BMW zoomed by, pointing his gun at me and shooting blindly. I mean, that is the most basic attemp at murder I have ever witnessed. At least make it interesting!”
“Lucifer, if someone is out for your life, it’s serious business”
“Why would it be? It’s not like I can actually die, detective! Plus, it’s probably not that deep anyways. Just, dear old dad coming after me again for no particular reason. Very characteristic of him.”
“ You’re getting ahead of yourself. Whoever sent this wants you and Y/N apart, why would your dad want that?”
“Because he’s a prick who disagrees with everything and anything that makes me happy?” Lucifer concludes with an innocent smile “And, of course, Y/N being moral, our marriage goes against the heavenly rules of the almighty, so he’s trying to break us apart, but worry not detective! Me and Y/N are stronger and more in love than ever. My father will simply have to accept that. Nothing will break us apart” he said, puffing his chest out with confidence
“That’s good to hear Lucifer, but I still think we should stay open to different possibilities”
“Oh, come on detective, that would be a waste of our time. I know my father better than anyone, believe me when I tell you this is his hand and no one else's. Case closed! Now, let’s move to the next one! Chop chop detective, murders won’t solve themselves!” Lucifer said, marching out of the precinct. Chloe rolled her eyes at her partner, before hiding the bullets and the note in her desk and going after him.
Although it didn’t bother you, you couldn’t help but notice how much more touchy Lucifer had been with you, ever since the necklace incident. He needed to touch you at all times: when you were out for coffee, at lunch, at the station, in your office, in Lux. His hand was always either around your waist or tangled in yours. You felt sort of bad, thinking he must be a little insecure with this secret admirer being after you at all times, but you wanted him to know that you loved him more than anything and that no matter what, you would never leave him for a faceless man, no matter how many pearls and chocolates he bribes you with. And so, you decided to play along with him, giving him as much attention as you could. Your visits at the station almost doubled, you always cleared your schedule to make time for him and even decided to start work later in the day than usual, so you could spend more time with him in the morning.
One afternoon, as you were enjoying your time with Decker and Lucifer during their lunch time, one of the notes from your secret admirer slipped out of your pocket. You didn’t realise it until Chloe picked it up
“Oh, I was going to throw that out”
“Where’s this from?” she asked, studying the note
“Just one of this week's gifts” you confessed awkwardly. Without a second thought, the detective reached for her drawer, pulling out another note from inside and inspecting them side by side. Eventually, she placed them both in front of Lucifer
“Notice something interesting about the writing?”
“They are remarkably similar…”
“More like identical”
“What is that?” you asked, looking at the unknown note. Your heart sank as you read it
“I’ll explain everything at home dear, I swear” Lucifer said
“You’ve received death threats because of me?”
“I’ll tell you everything at home, I promise”
“You have initials…” Decker noticed
“Yeah, ever since my photoshoot, they’re present on every package”
“What floor is your office on again?”
“5th, why?”
“How can someone enter your office every morning without anyone, not even your secretary noticing, and exit just as mysteriously?”
“Unless he found a different way in” Lucifer replied
“My window” you realise “You can step out directly onto the emergency staircase from there”
“He knew when to sneak in without being seen, so he must have known your schedule like the back of his hand. Who could know?”
“The only people who know it are my secretary and Lucifer”
“A stalker?” your husband suggested
“Maybe” Decker turned quickly to her computer “I’m going to check any business owners around that neighbourhood who could have had a close shot of when you enter and exit your studio, see if any initially match the ones on the notes. We’ll go from there”
You thanked Chloe for the help and went home with Lucifer, who spent the entire car ride explaining the note to you and the events of the previous days. You were angry at him for keeping all of it away from you, but ultimately happy that he was safe. You spent the night drinking wine and rewatching all of your comfort movies, to calm your nerves.
You decided to try working from home for the next couple of days, too scared by the idea of a stranger following your every move. It was a challenging process but Lucifer did his best in helping you get accustomed to this new routine. His homemade meals could not compare to anything you would eat while in a meeting with your business associates. Plus, the company was much more delightful.
Chloe texted you, almost a week later, to come down to the station as quickly as possible. They had found the guy. You hopped into your car and when you finally arrived, Lucifer was waiting for you outside
“They found him?”
“Yes dear, they did”
“How?”
“Well, as it turns out he lived in the apartment building next door. His living room window had a great view of everything happening in your office. We’ve found a week’s worth of gifts he was planning to deliver. It’s him for sure”
“Thank you” you whispered before collapsing into Lucifer’s arms and hugging him tight
“It’s alright lovely. It’s over now. Let’s go see how the detective is handling it. I think they’re in the interrogation room now.”
From behind the glass, you watched the man that threatened your marriage and your husband's life, confess to everything. Admit to stalking you, in order to learn your schedule. Break into your office and open fire on Lucifer. More than enough to get him behind bars for a long time. Decker and Lucifer got up and were ready to leave, but your husband requested a couple of minutes alone with the man. The detective agreed, cautioning him to not do something stupid, before leaving them alone. Lucifer turned on his heels to face the man in handcuffs and you could instantly tell he was furious
“Truly an honorable try. Y/N is one of a kind, you were right about that, the only detail you missed is that, you see, she’s taken. By me” the mischievous smile on his face let you know that he was up to no good “Our bond is indestructible and it’s really laughable to think that you’ve risked so much to tear us apart when you didn’t stand a chance to begin with” Lucifer leaned over the table, now his back was facing you “Me and Y/N are, and forever will be, together. There is nothing you or anyone else can do to change that. She is mine and I am hers, now and for eternity” as his little speech came to an end, you noticed the man in handcuffs go pale with terror. He began shaking in his chair, screaming incoherently about the devil. Even tho you hadn’t see what your husband did, you could tell by the man’s reaction. You laughed to yourself, not even mad that Lucifer had used his devil face against this man. You would have done the same if you had the option.
#lucifer netflix#lucifer morningstar imagine#lucifer morningstar x reader#lucifer morningstar fluff#lucifer morningstar
493 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fiancee
“Do we have to go?” whined Harry as he scurried around the large kitchen of 12, Grimmauld Place gathering ingredients for dinner and Ginny, his girlfriend, leaned against the large island in the middle. He was talking about shopping for Ron and Hermoine’s wedding. “Yes, baby. We have to go! At least this won’t be as boring as one of your Auror functions at the ministry,” she replied and rolled her eyes. “Honestly Ginny, we shag at most of those ‘Auror functions’ so don’t even go there,” he chuckled, “You have a point!” she laughed and pecked him on the lips.
***
“Bubba, you want to watch ‘The Notebook’ tonight?” Ginny asked him while going through the movies as Harry cleared up the dishes. “But I thought it was my turn to pick a movie!” he said as he crossed across the room and sat beside Ginny. She looked at him with the cutest puppy eyes and he melted right there. “Ughh. You know I can’t say no to that beautiful face. We can watch whatever you want!” he said, getting lost in those beautiful brown eyes. He kissed her, quick and soft, as she put on the movie. They snuggled together, both of their eyes on the TV as Harry mindlessly played with her hair. They talked and kissed and cuddled up, falling asleep not even 45 minutes into the movie. It was like they completed each other. One was incomplete without the other.
***
It was the next morning and as a thin ray of sunlight dappled Ginny’s freckled face, she slowly opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was Harry. She gave a slight content smile and kissed him on his forehead. He lightly opened his eyes and his gaze met with hers. Ginny broke apart and got up. “Busy day today! Ron and Hermoine are going to come by in-” she glanced at the clock above the sofa, “shit. 15 minutes! Get up!” she said as she pulled Harry up and literally dragged him to the bathroom. “Gin! Snookums! It’s just Ron and Hermoine! Why are we getting so worked up?” he looked at her, confused. “We are supposed to go shopping for their wedding! With Mum, Dad and the Grangers!” Ginny almost screamed. “Oh shoot-” Harry said as he quickly put some toothpaste on his and Ginny’s toothbrush. They brushed and got into the shower together. Ginny got dressed in a low cut white tank top, shorts and a brown cardigan. Harry wore a black hoodie and jeans. They quickly came out looking fresh and ready. They settled in the kitchen, waiting for Ron and Hermoine. “Gin- you look so hot,” he said as he looked at her slightly wet and thin body, he walked toward her and kissed her, wrapping his arms around her body. It was fierce and full of need. He pinned her against the counter and lightly squeezed her arse. There was a light flash sound as Ron and Hermoine walked out of the floo. They didn’t pull away and Ginny tangled her hand in Harry’s messy black hair, her back facing the newly arrived guests. “Oi!” Ron shouted. Ginny slightly pulled away to take a breath and muttered, “git.” Harry chuckled and got back to his gorgeous girlfriend. After a few seconds, they pulled away, deciding that their guests had enough of a show for that morning. “Bloody rabbits.” Ron cursed. “Good Morning to you too mate!” Harry laughed. “Come on, let’s go. Before these two start snogging again.” Ron said with a deadly look. “Will you not accept the fact that they are together, Ronald?!” Hermoine said, annoyed. Ron rolled his eyes and Harry held Ginny tightly from the side. “We have to get Mum and Dad, Hermoine’s parents will meet us there directly,” Ron said to the others. They nodded and Ron and Hermoine stepped into the chimney. “The Burrow!” they said together.
“Fuck Gin. I’m so turned on right now, I don’t know how I will keep it in my pants,” he muttered into her ear. “I can tell love,” she said trying to hide the lust in her voice as his bulge pressed against the side of her thigh. They stepped into the chimney and appeared in the Burrow a moment later. Harry was still clinging to Ginny from the side and Molly held her arms open to hug them both. Luckily, his bulge was not uncovered by Molly as she took both of them in the hug together. “Harry! Ginny! How are you two doing? It’s like we don’t see you anymore!” she said and pulled away. “Nothing much mum, we just-” she felt his bulge getting bigger and she forgot what she was about to say, overcome with lust. “We- study and… ummm, play quidditch. I help Harry prepare… as an Auror.” she said, trying not to sound unusual because what was the truth was, they ate, binged and shagged. “Okay? That’s good darling! Daddy, will be downstairs in a second.” Molly said as she got back to Hermione and Ron. “gin-” Harry threw a look at Ginny and she nodded, reassuring him that she needed him too. Soon enough, Harry and Ginny greeted George, Angelina and Percy as Arthur appeared on the staircase. He greeted everyone and they all flooed to a store in Muggle London to buy bridesmaids and groomsmens dresses and suits. They met Luna, The Grangers, Dean, Seamus and Neville at the store.
“The theme of the wedding is blue, along with white so couples will wear the same shade of blue! Bridesmaids will wear long dresses. Let each couple try on their clothes one by one.” instructed Hermione. George and Angelina went first and with just a few different outfits, settled on something to wear. Then Dean and Seamus, picked the very first suit that they both tried on. “Harry! Ginny! Go on.” Hermione signalled toward the trial room. Harry’s bulge was still large enough to be noticed, but he had no way out. He got up, trying not to show his front to the crowd. They walked into the trial room and the sales assistant handed them both robes to try on. They made their way into the changing room which was large enough to fit 5 people. It had chairs and hangers and enough light. “Finally,” Harry gasped as he caught Ginny’s lips into a hot and urgent kiss. She lifted her legs and tied them around his waist. He started by taking her cardigan off. Her hand entangled in his hair and squeezed her arse. She moaned loudly and pulled away with a grunt, “What if someone hears?” she said. He took out his wand from his back pocket and cast a silencing charm on them. He didn’t care as his wand met with the ground with a clatter. She pulled off his shirt and he did the same. He looked at her beautiful breast covered with a thin white bra which was almost sheer. This time he didn’t connect her lips to his again, instead kissing her neck. “Oh… Harry! I need you…” she moaned and Harry realised they didn’t have much time. He pinned her hard against the wall and put his hand inside her knickers, slowly inserting a finger. “Ahhh… yesss,” she moaned even louder. “Gin-” he grunted as he pulled her pants down along with her knickers, she indeed his belt and quickly unbuttoned his jeans. He took off his boxers and thrust into her slowly but hard. “Oh! Move Harry, move,” she moaned and he started a steady pace. It was hard not to come immediately. God, this woman would be the end of him. “Harder! Oh…. yesss! Faster Harry!” she screamed. He went at an unbelievably fast pace. Thrust after thrust it made him closer to his high. He fondled her breast and pounded into her. Once, twice, thrice. “Harry! Harry! Harry!” “Gin! Gin!” The room was filled with moans of either name. “Harry! I’m cum- Ah!” he swivelled his hips and thrust into her at an angle that had her spilling immediately. Her orgasm triggered his. He thrust into her as deep as he could and released his seed. “Gin-” he grunted as he felt himself come back down. “Wow- that was,” Ginny smiled. “I love you baby,” Harry pecked her and pulled out. “Mmmmm… I love you too,” she replied. They stripped from the rest of their robes too and Ginny put on the gown. It was a low cut navy blue gown with thin straps. It had a long, a-line skirt with a high slit on the side. It had a pearl detailing at the waist. It hugged her body perfectly. Harry couldn’t take his eyes off. He also looked handsome white trousers, with a white blazer, navy blue shirt and white bow. Ginny grinned at him menacingly and bent down to take off her white lace panties. She cupped her underwear and slid it into Harry’s hand. “Just something to think about.” she grinned and they stepped out of the changing room with a whine from Harry. “Took you too long enough.” Hermione said at once as she looked at the two of them. They had mussed hair and swollen lips, but they both looked entirely too pleased. Hermione knew what they had been upto, but she didn’t mention it. “This is what we are wearing! We both love it!” Ginny said, her voice now happy and uplifting. “These minxes,” Ron muttered under his breath, rewarding him with a hard nudge from hermione. The way everyone looked at Harry and Ginny, kinda proved that they knew too… The awkward stares didn’t end until they went back and changed into their original clothes and sat back down.
#hinny fluff#harry and ginny smut#hinny smut#harry potter#ginny weasley#post war hinny#domestic hinny#harry x ginny
63 notes
·
View notes
Photo
A/N: Let us kick off autumn season with everyone’s favourite pirate! This Imagine is based on requests from @manymanycupsoftea and two anons. This is probably not entirely historically accurate or more than a fluffy piece of even more fluff but… Have fun! 🎃😋
Words: 1913
Warnings: fluff, anxiety (fear of thunderstorms)
The first thunder ripped you from your light sleep, growling in the grey sky. It was so loud you could feel it vibrating in your chest. Sweating, you sat up, your limbs shaking.
One of the more considerate crew members had offered you a hanging mat but you had opted to build yourself a little nest behind some heavy wooden boxes full of ammunition and cannon balls instead, on top of a pile of fishing nets. It was surprisingly comfortable but most of all, it was safer.
It was for the first time now that you regretted your decision. Thunderstorms did not usually scare you this much—but on a ship, in the middle of the ocean with no land in sight… your anxiety stirred like a rousing lion ready to devour you.
You whimpered, unable to stop the pitiful sounds escaping your lips as you curled up in the corner. You had long gotten used to the way the ship kept rocking on the strong waves of the sea—but today, it made you sick to the core. The Captain had promised land soon, if anything to stock up on the crew’s rum supplies. If you were not mistaken, you were sailing somewhere on the Atlantic Ocean. Jack had told you about an island where the British settled and harboured many treasures and expensive alcohol. He had only been once, in his drunken state, however, barely remembered any of the experience.
Another thunder. You flinched once more, pressing your forehead against your knees until you felt a stinging pain spreading on your skin but only pulled away to look up with tear-stricken eyes when you heard a barrel being knocked over, and the Captain cursing under his breath.
Closing your mouth shut, you sank against the wood, wishing you were a mouse. Unlucky for you, he noticed you regardless.
“You alright there, missy?” He leaned over one of the boxes, his dreads hanging down and making the beads woven into them clatter.
“No. Yes. Go away!”
Jack pouted. “That was… an unhelpful answer.”
“I’m just sea-sick.” You choked out, unwilling to meet his brown eyes. They were, so you had to admit, far too captivating.
“In which case you should hop on deck and not cower in the dark.” On deck. That would be even worse. And in this weather… what was he thinking? Probably nothing at all, given the amount of alcohol on the Black Pearl.
“H-How… how close are we to land?”
“’Bout half a day’s journey if the storm doesn’t blow us off course.” Jack leaned in even closer. You could smell him now. A wondrously intriguing mixture of rum, a little bit of sweat and the tangy soap he had stolen from a British mercenary last week—and strangely… having the infamous pirate so close to you calmed you down. A third thunder echoed through the endless sky above the ship, so loud this time even the sleeping crew stirred a little in its slumber. A scream escaped your lips before you were unable to stop it.
Captain Jack Sparrow was many things but he was certainly not stupid—and he did not quite manage to wipe the shit-eating grin off his face when he said, “You’re afraid of the storm?” It was not a question; and even though you felt the urge to slap him for mocking you for your anxieties, what he did instead startled you to the core.
He reached out for you, offering you his hand. Utterly confused, you stared at it, counting the many precious rings on his fingers and wondering what had caused the long scar right above his knuckles. A sword, perhaps?
He was a pirate. Pirates should not behave this way. You had not expected a life where you were being respected by your comrades when you joined this ship for no other reason than to escape the social conventions of your own family, to flee having to bend to rules you fundamentally disagreed with. Rules like forced marriages for the sake of society and reputation. Ugh.
And now here he was, taking your hand into his, pulling you off the ground and leading you over to one of the hanging mats. You stopped dead in your tracks when you realised what his destination was.
“I am not going to sleep in a hanging mat with you!”
Jack’s upper lip twitched slightly. “I wasn’t gonna sleep, I was gonna drink.” He said matter-of-factly, pointing to the bottle of rum on another wooden box next to the hanging mat as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Jack let go off your hand and made himself comfortable.
You presumed you had two options now. You could either jump in at the deep end and join him or you could return to your little nest, letting your anxiety get the better of you. The next thunder made you decide quickly. Before you could change your mind, you climbed up to him, realising only when it was too late that this hanging mat did not provide enough space for two people. You ended up using him both as your pillow and your mattress and Jack had the audacity to groan and then chuckle as he took a greedy sip from his rum.
“Sorry. This isn’t going to work, I’ll…”
“I’m not complaining about havin’ a beautiful woman sleeping on me, missy.” He cut you off.
“I won’t sleep. I’ll just… wait until this stupid storm is over.” You retorted, ignoring vehemently how the pirate had just called you beautiful and made his comment sound ambiguous. It was oddly flattering.
And then there it was again, his intoxicating smell, the alcohol more prominent now that he was sipping on his rum. You almost smiled to yourself. What would your mother say if she knew you were currently resting on top of a fearsome pirate who had more or less just non-verbally promised to protect you from a storm? This was more than your husband-to-be ever could have done for you.
Against all conviction, you fell asleep.
-
The next morning the crisp October air was fresh, as if cleansed by all the rain that had poured into the ocean and on deck of the Black Pearl overnight. The dark and threatening storm clouds had gone, the sun rising on the horizon. Jack had been right. There was land in sight—and the haven was busy, full of merchants and traders wearing… exceptionally strange clothes, their carriages full of pumpkins.
A frown decorated your forehead. Pumpkins? It could not be… had you been sailing for so long now?
“It’s Halloween.” You whispered—both euphoria and grief washing over you all at the same time. As a child, you had loved Halloween. Your father had brought Turkish Delight all the way from Eastern Europe to be eaten and you had been allowed to dress up as a fierce pirate girl with a wooden sword.
Jack leaned over, his lips slightly parted in an irritated manner. You shivered when his hot breath brushed against your ear.
“Uh… do you know why they’re all dressed like that?”
“They are wearing costumes.” You responded, smiling faintly at the memory. Jack looked at you as if you had grown two heads, eliciting a giggle from you. You didn’t know why but somehow… you kept growing to like the cocky pirate.
“It is an annual celebration to scare away nasty spirits. So this might be the one day of the year you will not look conspicuous being dressed like… well, a pirate.” You concluded, your voice more confident now. Perhaps it was not so bad after all. Jack had shown you nothing but kindness so far. “I wish I had a costume.”
“That can be arranged. Master Gibbs!” He called out, without ever taking his eyes off of you.
“Aye, Captain?”
“You’re in charge! I’m takin’ this lovely lady out for a drink!”
“Aye, Captain.” Gibbs repeated, raising his eyebrows just a little at being left with all the work while Jack was amusing himself with a woman. Heavens, what were you thinking? He was a pirate. You would not be amusing yourself with him… like that.
“Why?” You asked, as soon as you had followed him across the wooden boarding ramp and past a few merchants offering you fresh and big pumpkins. It was almost short of a miracle Jack’s ship did not attract any attention—but then again, this island was different—and it was Halloween.
“’Cause I’m thirsty.” He replied.
“You’re always thirsty. I mean, why are you taking me with you?”
“Cheer up, luv.” Love? Did he just call you love? It did in fact distract you so much you did not realise he never bothered to answer your question. “They serve the best rum here! But don’t tell that me mates on Tortuga. Ah, wait.” He stopped dead in his tracks and spun around, the sudden movement having you knock straight into him. He chuckled when you blinked.
You were standing in midst of a rather busy alley now. Market stands and laundrette services caught your attention, across the dusty ground a few chicken ran for their lives, being chased by a butcher with bloodstains on his white apron.
Unceremoniously and without any shame, Jack plucked a surprisingly well-made suit from a nearby clothesline. It was a British sailor’s uniform.
“You wanted to dress up?” He grinned, his golden teeth glinting in the rising morning sun.
“As a British sailor?” You asked, reaching for the appertaining hat but unable to stop yourself from reciprocating his grin in the process.
“As a freebooter!” He protested as he took the hat from your hand and put it on your head. Heavens, could this get any more bizarre?
Apparently it could, for about ten minutes later you found yourself sitting in a dimly lit tavern in a stolen costume, sipping, for the first time in your life, on a mug filled to the brim with rum. Jack had already half-emptied his while you were struggling not to end up completely drunk after only two sips.
If all this wasn’t strange enough already, you were the only woman in here—a circumstance which the other men, pirates or whatever they might have been, did not fail to notice. And when one of them gathered up his courage to approach you in a both eager and suspicious manner, the infamous pirate Captain simply slipped an arm around you, pulling you against his strong body and hence, scaring the stranger away.
Rum, sweat, tangy soap… you could get used to this.
“Jack? Thank you.” You blurted out before you could stop yourself. To say he was startled did not quite capture it.
“What for?”
“Everything. I think… I think you’re a good man.”
He frowned, hesitating. “I’m a pirate.”
“Yes, you are. But you have a good heart. You could have left me behind laughing at me when I begged you for shelter on your ship upon fleeing from my family. You didn’t… and now this is more than I could have ever imagined.”
“You’re livin’ a pirate’s life now, luv.” Love. There it was again. Smirking smugly, he raised his mug. “Take what you can.”
You laughed, more men turning their heads your way—right now, with Jack by your side, you couldn’t care less. “And give nothing back!” You clinked your glasses and drank. “Oh, and Happy Halloween!”
-
A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! Caffeine is essential as a writer, I guess. And red wine. A lot of red wine. ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥
#halloween clipart in title by hotshotspecialgmailcom#jack sparrow#jack sparrow imagine#jack sparrow x you#jack sparrow x reader#jack sparrow fluff#captain jack sparrow#captain jack sparrow imagine#captain jack sparrow x you#captain jack sparrow x reader#potc#potc imagine#pirates of the caribbean#pirates of the caribbean imagine#johnny depp
618 notes
·
View notes
Text
There May Be Trouble Ahead - Part 3
John Whittaker x Reader
A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s all lemon zest 🍋 because the world deserves more of the over-eager puppy that is the handsome Johnny Whittaker. And puppies need discipline.
The song excerpt is from ‘Let’s Face the Music and Dance’ which surely must be John’s life anthem? (It wasn’t released until 1936 but there’s that fiction writer’s licence again.)
Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including oral between consenting adults*. Some drinking.
*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.
(Not my GIF, credit to owner)
As John followed you out of his bedroom, you asked him if you might use the bathroom and he took your hand once more, guiding you along the corridor and pointing at a door. Once inside, you looked around at the huge roll-top bath and large porcelain sink. You smiled, once again it all seemed very Victorian to your (you liked to think) very modern eye.
Coming back downstairs a little later on, you heard a murmur of voices from below you and paused on the half-landing, tip-toeing to the edge and peeking cautiously over the banister rail.
John and Sarah were standing in the large lobby, and you noticed that John had his arms crossed over his chest in a very defensive stance.
You heard Sarah say in her quiet voice, “I just don’t want you to get hurt again, Johnny.” You grimaced as she said “Johnny” and the familiar way she used it. “I mean I hardly have to remind you what happened the last time you met someone and got carried away, do I? She ran off with your Father!” Your mouth rounded into an ‘O’ as you heard those explosive words. A scowl appeared on John’s face, and he snapped, “Well firstly, you did just remind me! And secondly, at least the old man’s not around this time to run off with my wife!”
“Wife!” exclaimed Sarah, “She’s an acquaintance at best! Hardly appropriate to speak of her as your wife. You met her, what - a week ago?” “Took me less time than that with Larita,” shot back John. Now it was Sarah’s turn to pull a face. “I’m just saying to take it more slowly this time, Johnny, that’s all!” John started striding away from her and you pulled back from the banister in case either of them looked up and spotted you. “Well, thank you for the advice, Sarah. You can rest assured that this time I shall be doing things with less haste and more consideration.”
Through the banister rails you watched Sarah remain standing there for a moment, crestfallen, before following after John.
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
John stalked into the sitting room, heading for a cigarette box on one of the low tables and opening it. Thankfully it wasn’t empty, so he took one out, tapped it a couple of times and lit it with the ornate table lighter next to the box. He drew on it before blowing out a long plume of smoke into the air. He heard heels making their way across the large rug behind him and hoped it was his guest, turning with a smile on his face.
Seeing that it was Sarah, his smile faded and he knew she’d noticed that. But why then did she have to keep on at him like some kind of mother hen? He sighed, “What other pearls of wisdom are you here to cast before me, Sarah?”
She tried a tentative smile, “I don’t mean to nag, Johnny. You know I don’t. It’s as I said, I just don’t want you to get hurt again.” He moved over to the large windows, gazing out over the landscape, “I don’t intend to, believe me. And I don’t intend to hurt my new lady friend either,” he replied, still smoking his cigarette and speaking over his shoulder to her, “I’ve met someone I truly like and I’m not about to mess it up.”
He turned back to the window and therefore missed seeing Sarah’s lips tightening into an almost-snarl as she heard his words.
And unbeknownst to him, the ‘someone’ of whom he spoke was currently listening just outside the sitting room.
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
A quiet voice behind you made you jump. “Are you lost, madam?” You swung round. Oh, it was the butler, Furber was it?
“Oh no, it’s fine thank you, Mr Furber. I’m just looking for John and I think I’ve found him now.” You pointed theatrically - and somewhat ridiculously - into the sitting room, before giving him an embarrassed smile and disappearing through the door.
You saw that Sarah was now the one adopting the defensive body language, and she and John were staring each other down in what looked like some kind of Mexican Standoff.
Okay, you thought, here I go with my ‘Absolutely Innocent of Eavesdropping’ act.
“Oh, John - there you are! I thought I’d lost you for a moment,” and you gave him a big smile. “Hello, Sarah!” you added, now looking at her and still smiling, but it was a very much smaller one than John had received from you.
John reacted as you’d hoped he would and came rushing over to you immediately, hand going to yours. “Do you want to go, darling? We can, you know.” “Perhaps we should,” you said, “we don’t want to take up the whole of everyone’s afternoon, do we?” He grinned at you, “No, we don’t, darling.”
You hid a smile, thinking that he was perhaps slightly overdoing it with the ‘darling’s’ but you’d take them all. Because you’d caught a look of absolute fury on Sarah’s face for a split-second when she’d heard the first ‘darling’ leave his lips.
That’s more like it, girl! you thought gleefully, let out all that broiling jealousy and sexual tension hiding inside that calm little head!
If she wasn’t going to be honest about her true feelings and instead mess around playing silly mind games, then that really wasn’t your problem. You’d just met John, you liked him (much to your amazement, you had to admit) and you wanted to see where things led.
It had annoyed you, quite frankly, when you’d heard her dripping words of doubt into John’s ear as if she was merely a concerned bystander, instead of being an interested party herself.
And if she was going to play dirty, then you just might have to as well.
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
John was feeling immensely relieved as he drove the two of them away from Flintham Hall. His darling (which was how he found himself thinking of her now) didn’t seem to have overheard that silly squabble of his with Sarah and they’d managed to take their leave fairly easily without too many entreaties from his Mother to stay longer.
Although she did seem a little quiet on the drive back to town. He shook off the thought, she was probably just a bit overwhelmed after meeting all of them in one fell swoop. It was quite a task, he acknowledged. He knew his family could be intimidating.
Arriving back and parking outside her flat, he was overjoyed when she asked him if he’d like to come in for either more tea or a small aperitif.
It seemed that he was still in her ‘good books’.
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
You poured a pale sherry for each of you and handed a glass to John. He was lounging - entirely at ease - on your large cherry-red sofa, and you sat opposite him on the matching armchair. He looked slightly disappointed at that but took a sip of his sherry, saying “Mmm, that’s a nice Fino.”
You’d spent the whole journey back pondering whether to confess that you’d eavesdropped. Firstly, you felt guilty for doing so. One of your mother’s favourite sayings was ‘eavesdroppers never hear good of themselves’ if she ever caught you and your little brother listening at doors. And secondly, you didn’t want there to be any lies or omissions between you and John.
“Yes, it’s not bad,” you agreed. “Look John, I need to tell you something.” He sat bolt upright, “Oh no - you’re dumping me! Already!” he wailed. You laughed, “No, I’m not! But I do need to discuss something with you.”
He sat back again, still looking anxious, “Tell me!” he demanded. You drew in a deep breath, “I overheard your conversation with Sarah. I’m sorry!” you said quickly, “I really didn’t mean to, I was just coming downstairs… and then you were in the sitting room.” You grinned, “Furber caught me standing outside!” He also grinned, “Yes, he’s got a habit of appearing without warning! I suppose it’s the whole butler thing.” His expression sobered, “So you did hear us squabbling! And also the final scandalous fact about my ill-fated marriage.” He took another sip of sherry. “Yes, the sad fact is, my Father ran off with her. They’re living in sin and penury down in the south of France.”
“I’m sorry, John,” you said sincerely, “that must’ve been hard to bear.” He smiled at you, “It wasn’t the best. And of course Mother went absolutely mad and said it was all my fault. Which it was, of course. By that time, I’d realised that I didn’t love her but yes, it still stung.” You leaned back and looked steadily at him, “I suppose it was for the best. In an awful way. But tell me, what’s with Sarah?” He gave you a puzzled look, “What do you mean, darling?”
“Your relationship with her. Tell me about it.” He sighed, “Mother always wanted me to marry her. She saw it as the joining of two dynasties, nothing romantic about it. I think I told you we had a brother-sister thing between us? We grew up together so that’s just how it was. Then mater started putting pressure on me to get engaged to her and her parents weren’t opposed to it, so it was kind of understood between the two families that that’s what would eventually happen. But then… Larita. As I said.” Another sip of sherry. “When she left, it was obvious that everyone expected me to just pick up with Sarah again from where we left off. But she didn’t seem all that keen - wounded pride, I suppose and I don’t blame her for that - and to be brutally honest, I really wasn’t keen either.”
His dark eyes gazed over at you, “I never felt that spark with her, you know? She’s just like another sister.” You almost felt sorry for Sarah. “So it was just kind of… left on the side and no-one’s mentioned it again.” You nodded, and decided to take the plunge, “You do realise that she’s in love with you? And probably always has been?”
His face was a picture. “Umm.. what?” You nodded again, “Yes, John, believe me. Her indifferent demeanour is all an act. She wants you for herself.” You met his eyes, watching him intensely, “Does that change anything? How you feel about her? Because if it does, then I’ll just take myself off somewhere else.” He shook his head vigorously, “No! It changes nothing. Absolutely nothing.” He put his sherry glass down on the small table next to the sofa and came over to crouch down beside your chair, grasping your arm, “I’m sorry about it if that’s the case, I truly am. But it’s you I want, not Sarah.” He leant in towards you and the two of you gazed into each other’s eyes, then John’s lips softly met yours and you shared a sedate kiss.
Breaking apart, he laughed nervously, “I hope you don’t mind that I kissed you?” Shaking your head and running a finger along his jaw, you were smiling as you replied, “I don’t mind in the slightest, John.”
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
John was driving perhaps a little too fast along the country roads, on his way back home in the gathering dusk. He was a very happy man indeed, and he was singing at the top of his voice.
There may be trouble ahead
But while there's moonlight
And music and love and romance
Let's face the music and dance
Before the fiddlers have fled
Before they ask us to pay the bill
And while we still have the chance
Let's face the music and dance
He pulled the car to a grinding halt and leapt out of it, bounding up the steps and into the house. Furber, gliding along with a tray holding a decanter of sherry and four glasses, hid a smile and nodded at him, “Good evening, sir. Shall I bring an additional glass for you?” “Uh.. no, thanks Furber, I’m just going to my room. To.. uh.. lie down for a nap before dinner.”
Furber hid an even bigger smile. He knew the signs only too well. The Master was in love again.
John’s foot was on the first step of the staircase when Veronica’s voice cut through his pleasant thoughts. “John! Please join us!” His shoulders dropped… caught like a rat in a trap! Accepting defeat, he turned on his heel and trotted into the sitting room behind his Mother. The other three ladies were ranged around various sofas and armchairs and in the process of accepting glasses of sherry from Furber, who magically produced a fifth glass and now filled it for John. How does he do that? wondered John, does he keep supplies of spare glasses in his pockets? Hmm, maybe he does, I wouldn’t put it past him.
He took the glass and thanked Furber, settling into one of the squashy old armchairs and facing the four women who were all looking at him expectantly. He looked back at them, until eventually his Mother broke the stalemate, “Well, John? Where did you meet her? At the Art Gallery?” Marion sniggered bitchily, “As if! John’s never been inside an art gallery in his life, Mama!” Shooting her a poisonous look, John replied, “As it happens - no, Mother.” Marion snorted in triumph but John ignored her, continuing, “I nearly hit her in the head with a tennis ball.”
“Johhhhnnn!” wailed his mother, “That’s no way to impress a lady!” He sighed, “I do realise that, mater. I promise you I didn’t do it on purpose. But it was certainly very fortuitous.” He knew that he probably had a dreamy, faraway look in his eyes but he didn’t care. He noticed Sarah’s eyes on him, and he felt a sudden pang of guilt. But what can I do? he thought, the heart wants what the heart wants.
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
Monday was dragging by and felt very tedious. You’d begun work on a small canvas by a fairly famous local artist and as you meticulously and gently rubbed at the grime which covered it, your mind drifted to last Saturday evening.
After that first innocent kiss, John had pulled you up off the armchair and slid his arms right around you, holding you close and kissing you in an increasingly passionate fashion. So much so that you eventually had to gently shove him away, smiling and catching your breath.
Most of the (admittedly few) men you had stepped out with had been appalling kissers, all wet lips and slobbering over you in indecent haste.
John might act like an overgrown schoolboy (or puppy, take your pick) but in the kissing stakes, he was well out in front of the rest of the field. His lips had hovered at your ear and you felt little huffs of his breath against it. “Your lips, your mouth, your eyes… you’re driving me insane,” he whispered, and you’d almost fainted at the sensuality of it.
You suddenly heard your supervisor’s sharp voice, and you looked up quickly at the older woman. She was in fact a very good mentor, her bark being worse than her bite as they say. She smirked, “You’re in a world of your own today, dear! I called your name at least twice before now.” Looking more closely at you, she gave a delighted laugh, “Oh my! There’s a man involved, isn’t there?” You blushed furiously and she crowed, “I was right! I knew it. Now, tell me all about him!”
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
After spending ten minutes telling your mentor all about John, you were slightly disappointed when she had a bit of a mixed reaction to the details you shared.
“My dear, he does sound very dashing,” she intoned, and you knew there was a ‘but’ coming, “but he also sounds a little bit… risqué.” You opened your mouth to jump to his defence, but she held up a hand, “I know you don’t want to hear this, but you do need to guard against making any impulsive decisions regarding him. He sounds as if he likes impulsive gestures, judging by the sound of the circumstances surrounding his marriage. And then his father running off with his wife! I mean, my dear, that is positively…” “Scandalous,” you supplied, “yes, I do realise that. But I truly believe he’s learned his lesson.”
She looked sceptical, “So you say, but please do bear in mind that he’s still probably inclined towards the impulsive, despite what he says. I’m sure your parents would never forgive me if I didn’t at least try and sound a warning shot across your bows!” You dipped your head and accepted her thoughts, “I am listening to you, honestly,” you assured her.
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
John had taken to telephoning you every evening since the Saturday you’d spent together. “I just want to hear your voice,” he’d say say quietly into the phone. “It’s nice to hear yours, too,” you’d reply. When he phoned you on Tuesday evening, you could hear some excitement in his voice. “I’ve got us two stand tickets for the races on Saturday,” he said, his words tumbling over each other, “Oh say you’ll come! It’s not one of the big gold cup meetings but it’ll be so much fun!” You laughed, caught up in his excitement, “Yes, John, I’ll come.”
“Wonderful! Mater keeps telling me not to call you too much or pester you at work but I can’t help it!” “It’s fine, I don’t mind,” you said truthfully, thinking about how you now sat in your flat of an evening waiting for him to call. Not that you’d admit that to him, of course. Your feelings for John were definitely a bit like a runaway train at the moment, and you were trying to keep the brakes on but you were struggling to do so.
About half an hour after you’d hung up, your doorbell rang. Opening the door, you were less than charmed to see your neighbour Euphemia standing on your doorstep clutching a teacup. “Oh hullo,” she greeted you, “I wonder if I can borrow some sugar?” Mentally rolling your eyes, you said, “Of course, step in for a moment.” You took the cup from her and she trailed along your hall after you, following you to the kitchen. You knew exactly why she was here and as you poured out some sugar for her, she said, trying to sound casual, “So you have a new young man, then?”
Your back was to her so you smirked to yourself. “Yes, Euphemia, I do,” you said lightly. “Mmm,” she grunted, “What’s his name, then?” “John.” “John what?” Now she was beginning to annoy rather than amuse you, “John No-one-You’ll-Ever-Have-Heard-Of,” you said sarcastically, handing her the cup of sugar. “There you go, Euphemia! Now, so sorry, I’m right in the middle of something.” In other words, sling your hook. She had a very dissatisfied look on her face as she hadn’t been able to get all the information she wanted out of you. Just then, there was another knock at the door so you headed to it, Euphemia on your heels again. God, that woman!
Upon opening the door this time, you were delighted to see a much more welcome face. John was standing there, a very large bouquet of peonies in his hand. He gave you a big smile then immediately leaned in for a kiss, but pulled back suddenly mid-kiss when his eyes met Euphemia’s over your shoulder. “Oh!” he exclaimed, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise you had company.” You looked over your shoulder, saying, “Euphemia was just leaving, weren’t you Euphemia?” you said with a hint of menace in your voice. “Um… yes,” she nodded, “nicer to meet you, Mr… ?” You grabbed John’s arm and squeezed hard, “Bye, Euphemia!” She sulkily brushed past you and John and made her way down your steps.
You dragged John inside and quickly closed the door. “That woman!” you hissed, “She’s just been in here to ‘borrow a cup of sugar’ …in other words, trying to sniff out information about you!” John laughed, “Ah, now I understand! Here, darling… these are for you.” He handed you the bouquet, you exclaiming how pretty they were and beginning to look for a vase. “I remembered you said that peonies were your favourites,” he announced proudly. You were impressed! You two had passed a florists on the evening of your first date and you’d remarked how much you loved the big blowsy pink flowers.
“Anyhow, she’s not very pleased,” you said conversationally as you busied yourself arranging the flowers, “she didn’t get any information out of me at all apart from your first name.” You looked up at him, holding one of the blooms in your hand, “And as much as I’m pleased to see you and these beautiful flowers… what on earth are you doing here, John?”
You saw his face pink up, “I hope you won’t be annoyed but I couldn’t wait until Saturday to see you.” Your stomach filled with butterflies and you put down the peony, going over to where he stood and hugging him, before kissing his cheek. “You’re such a sweet boy,” you smiled at him. You felt his his shoulders relax. “Marion told me you’d get really fed up with me.”
You ghosted a kiss over his lips, “Oh, poor Marion… she’s not a happy bunny, is she?” John smiled a little sadly, “Disappointed in love. Her intended had no intention of marrying her and took off travelling.” “Oh, what a shame,” you sympathised. “It’s given her a slightly skewed view of life,” John shrugged, “she unfortunately tends to revel in other people’s embarrassing situations.”
He leant back from you, your arms still round him, “You’re not fed up with me, are you?” You smiled, “Not yet.” He landed a small kiss on your lips, “I’m pleased to hear that.” “Have you eaten?” “No… I had the sudden impulse to come haring over here to see you.” You stroked his cheek, “Then have a seat,” you waved towards your kitchen table, “and I’ll make you something.”
Your mentor’s words echoed in your head as you went to the pantry and took out some food items for John. “…he’s still probably inclined towards the impulsive…”
You felt a little soupçon of worry. It seems like she had possibly hit the nail right on the head.
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
@paracosmenthusiast
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
#ben barnes#john whittaker#john whittaker x reader#john whittaker fanfiction#john whittaker imagine#john whittaker fanfic#easy virtue
34 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello! I love your writing sm. Can I request a third life smp with scar and Ren? Smth like Ren gets cornered by scar and has to escape? Either funny shenanigans or angst or both lol. Thaaaannnkkkssss
ohohohohoho if given the choice i will ALWAYS choose angst lmfao
also thank you!!
…
At around noon one warm day, Ren is organising the bookshelves around the enchanting table inside Renchanting. Business has been slow today, but perhaps that’s just as well. There haven’t been any deaths in the last couple of days, so the only traffic Renchanting has seen is Impulse coming to enchant another set of diamond armour as a backup. Ren is starting to feel a little lonely; as great as Martyn is to have around, he’s often so focused on his work that he’s not great for conversation.
Eventually, he gets bored with his task and wanders outside. To his shock, he spots Scar coming in through the door and automatically reaches for his sword.
“Hi, Ren!” chirps Scar, approaching him. “How’s it going?”
“What do you want?” Ren demands.
Scar pouts. “That’s not a nice hello.”
“You’re not a nice person at the moment,” retorts Ren, before raising his voice to call over his shoulder. “Martyn!”
“Oh, he’s not here.”
Ren tightens his grip on his sword. “Where’s Martyn?”
“Grian’s taken him to the desert to discuss a “business deal”.” Scar makes air quotes over the last two words. “So it’s just the two of us.”
“Okay… What do you want? A truce?”
“Oh, I’m here to kill you.”
Scar’s words strike fear into Ren, who immediately backs away a few steps. “Wh-What?
“I’m just kidding!” laughs Scar. “Just kidding.”
Ren maintains eye contact, ready to run at any moment. “I’m not so sure you are. You ARE unstable enough to just walk in here and slice me in half, though.”
“Aw, no, Ren. I would never hurt you.”
“You’re holding a lava bucket in one hand and a diamond sword in the other.”
“Oh.” Scar glances down at his hands. “So I am. What are you gonna do about it? I’ll remind you that I’m the red name here so you can’t hit me if I don’t hit you first.”
Ren grips his sword with both hands, holding it in front of him. “Scar, get out. I have the right to defend what’s mine, whether it be my life or my business.”
“Not if I don’t attack first,” says Scar, grinning maliciously. “Put your sword down and I’ll consider mercy.”
“No! You’re crazy!”
“Put the sword down,” Scar repeats. “It’s better for you in the long run.”
Ren hesitates. He doesn’t trust Scar as far as he can throw him, so anything Scar says is worthless to him. Except his threats. Those are very real.
“Will you be happy if you kill me?” he snaps. “Will you finally be happy? Will that finally be enough?”
“Nothing’s ever enough for a red lifer. I won’t be happy until you’re on red, just like me. You and your employee Martyn of course, but he’s too smart for me. That’s why I had to split you guys up. He’ll be much easier to kill on his own.”
Ren’s blood runs cold. “No…! G-Grian’s green; he can’t just murder Martyn!”
“He’ll do anything I tell him to,” responds Scar casually. “He has to.”
Ren is still slightly doubtful but he wouldn’t put anything past Scar. He knows he and Martyn are in terrible danger and he has to go save his friend.
If Scar lets him out of here alive.
“You… um… You mentioned mercy?” he says hesitantly.
“I did!” Scar beams innocently. “Just put down your sword.”
After a long hesitation, Ren lowers his sword and tosses it away.
Scar’s smile turns dark. “Excellent. Let’s shake on it.”
He holds out his hand. Ren automatically reaches for it, but Scar abruptly snatches it away and strikes his flint and steel, creating a burst of flame that burns Ren’s hand.
Crying out in pain, Ren takes off running towards the door. Scar doesn’t follow him, and when Ren flings open the doors, he sees why.
Four blocks of obsidian block the double doors. With his iron pickaxe, there’s no way Ren can mine them in time.
Heart now pounding out of his chest, Ren turns and flees towards the back door. He hears Scar curse and some hope returns to him; clearly, Scar hadn’t known about the other door.
Ren bursts out of Renchanting and dashes towards the desert. He doesn’t care that he’s running right towards Scar’s domain; he has to get to Martyn and make sure he’s okay.
Out the corner of his eye, he spots an ender pearl land just in front of him. A second later, Scar appears and drops lava directly in front of him.
Ren skids to a halt and scrambles back, but the lava has already set the tree behind him on fire, causing the flames to burn his entire right side.
“Give it up, Ren!” comes Scar’s thundering voice through the flames. “Come to me and die quickly.”
Ren doesn’t reply. Forcing back tears and cries of agony, he continues running away from Scar, but his progress is slower now; his right leg feels like it’s on fire. He won’t make it to the desert now, but the village is fairly close. Maybe he can seek refuge there.
Soon, he spots the top of Bdubs and Cleo’s castle and realises he’s nearly there, though he’s taken an odd path. His limbs all either ache or burn; he can’t keep going much longer. The pain is starting to overwhelm him.
He slows as he reaches the drawbridge, his vision growing fuzzy.
“Who’s out there?!” comes Bdubs’s voice distantly.
“It’s Ren!” Cleo’s voice calls back. “He looks hurt, Bdubs!”
As soon as Ren takes one more step towards the drawbridge, his knee buckles under him and he collapses.
He’s unconscious before he hits the ground.
…
“-at happened?!”
“We don’t know, dude! All we saw is him running towards the castle and collapsing right in front of the drawbridge. There didn’t seem to be anyone chasing him but he’s burnt pretty badly.”
“Oh my god…”
Ren groans softly as he forces his eyes open. Blinking against the light and his still-fuzzy vision, he struggles to sit up.
“Whoa, hey, what d’you think you’re doing?” comes Cleo’s voice.
“Martyn!” cries Ren, reaching out blindly. “Martyn, are you here?”
Two hands clasp his. “I’m here, boss,” comes Martyn’s reassuring voice. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“I…” Ren hesitates. “I don’t…”
“You got attacked, right?” Martyn grasps his shoulder. “You remember? You got attacked. Tell me who attacked you.”
“S-Scar.”
Martyn nods slowly. “I knew it. Grian spilled everything to me.”
“If you knew what happened all along, why did you yell at us?” snaps Bdubs.
“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t involved,” Martyn responds. “I’m sorry. All jokes aside, Ren is my strongest ally on this server and I need to make sure I understand what’s going on with him at all times.”
After a moment, Bdubs nods. “Okay, fine. I’m gonna go keep watch.”
“Martyn, are you alright?” Ren asks, as Bdubs leaves the room. “Grian didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“No, don’t worry,” Martyn assures him. “He eventually straight-up admitted he was just distracting me so Scar could go kill you, but by the time I got back home, you’d already gone. I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have let him take me away from you for so long.”
Ren shakes his head. “It’s not your fault. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
Martyn smiles back. “Same, boss. I think we may need some better defences, though.”
“Yeah,” Ren chuckles, before spotting Cleo hanging around in the background, watching them with her arms folded. “Oh, Cleo, um… Thanks for saving me. Sorry for all the trouble.”
“Don’t worry about it,” replies Cleo kindly. “It was actually really scary to see you collapse out there; we had no idea what had happened.”
“Scar didn’t turn up, did he? He was chasing me for a while there.”
“No, we never saw him.”
“Okay, good.” Ren shivers. “It was terrifying, Martyn. He tried to make a deal with me, then he burned my hand and-.”
He breaks off as he lifts said hand and finds it wrapped in bandages. “Wait…”
“Bdubs patched you up,” Cleo explains. “I helped a bit but it was mostly Bdubs.”
“Oh. I really need to thank him too. And I hope Scar doesn’t make trouble for you two for helping me.”
“Hey, don’t worry. We can take him. In the meantime, Bdubs and I agreed you can stay here while you recover. We can defend you from Scar if he comes to try and finish the job.”
“Are you sure?” Martyn asks. “I’m happy to take Ren home.”
“After an attempt on his life?” responds Cleo. “It’d be wiser not to move him.”
“I guess so.”
“Thanks, Cleo,” says Ren gratefully. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
Cleo smiles back. “No problem.”
45 notes
·
View notes
Text
‘So... the weather?’
This is a little AU piece that was requested! The prompt: Hey could you do a one shot where harry and famous reader are in a talk show and he has a crush on her. Maybe he accidentally hurts her while playing a game and he feels awful about it orrr maybe the host put a video where harry says that the reader is his crush and he gets nervous and embarrassed.
Promoting a movie was all but glamourous. It was a constant string of 14 hour days, 5am wake up calls and repetitive questions about working with this person or that person with very little time spent discussing the actual plot of the film. The savior of press tours was any interview where you werent alone, whether it was a joint interview with cast mates or a full couch talk show.
You’d been on the Late Late Show once in the past and you had to be honest, it was so much fun. Your first appearance included a 7 minute long musical medley involving fifteen quick changes and you very nearly faceplanting the floor.
By this point you were sitting in the dressing room, your hair being tugged one way or another by David your hairdresser, with your make up artist Cam working his magic on your noticabley exhausted face. “Who am I on with tonight Maggie?” you ask your manager, realising no one had actually told you. Maggie looked up from her laptop, a smirk on her lips. “James told me not to tell you so you’ll have to wait!” she said smugly. You rolled your eyes, “Of course he said that, that man has to stop trying to set me up”. James was a good friend, the two of you having met a number of times through industry parties award shows. He’d always try and find the mosyty eligible bachelor in the room and push you towards them just to shit you. Suffice to say none of them worked out.
Once your hair and makeup were done and you were dressed in a cute but entirely impractical and kind of uncortable outfit, a crew member came to get you and walk you down to the stage. “Ok so once we get to the stage, you’ll hear James announce your name, walk down the steps through the audience, wave or high five whatever you feel like. Then greet James and take a seat, then he’ll then announce the next guest”. You nodded along politely, already knowing the drill. “By chance, do you know who the other guest is?” you say shooting Maggie a smug look. “Yeah its Harry Styles” with that your heart skipped a beat, you’d always found him attractive and incredibly charming which is something you had stupidly mentioned to James once or twice. “That bastard” you say under your breath, you didnt have much time to think about it though because not even 30 seconds later you rounded a corner and there he was.
He was a gorgeous as ever, wearing what you could only assume with a gucci knitted jumper with a delicate lacy collared shirt beneath it, his signature pearls hanging perfectly around his neck, and a pair of cream flared pants. The outfit was quintessentially Harry. He was chatting to another random crew member who seemed to be giving him the same speech. You could hear James wrapping up whatever he was talking about, you were too distracted to follow it, you couldnt look away from the man 8 feet away from you. “You good?” Maggie says, pulls you from your bewildered state, Maggie’s words also caught the attention of Harry who finally looked in your direction.
Harry’s eyes landed on you and unbeknownst to you he was just as taken by the sight of you. Realising his gaze was lingering, Harry snapped himself out of it “Hey i’m Harry, nice to meet you” he said, taking a few steps towards you, his hand awkwardly out for a hand shake, something Harry was already kicking himself for doing. You took his ring clad hand in yours briefly “Hey I’m-” before you could finish you could hear James announce your name, you let out a laugh “that’s my queue”. It was probably a good thing that James has inadvertently introduced you, who knows whether you could have actually remebered your own name in that moment.
You descend the stairs, meeting James at the bottom with a friendly hug before taking your place on the couch. “Can you also put your hands together for the incredible Harry Styles!” James proclaims, the audience erupting once more, you watch Harry interact with the audience effortlessly as he makes his way down the stairs, having a bromance moment with James before he plops down next to you, sitting closer than you had expected him to. “So have you guys met before?” James says, knowing full well the answer is “No we haven’t, we met briefly backstage” Harry says. He couldnt stop thinking about how awkward he’d made the initial encounter but he couldnt help it.
Throughout the interview it was all too clear that sparks were flying bewteen the two of you. Harry had talked about his new music, you’d talked about your new film, an anecdote or two thrown in from the both of you. all was going smoothly until about 15 minutes in when James began to look very smug. “Now Harry, I know you two hadn’t met before but from what I hear you have quite the crush huh?” Harry’s cheek went bright red knowing exactly what was about to happen. You on the other hand had zero idea what was going on. “And how would you know that James?” Harry says trying to pretend he has no clue what James was referring to. “Funny you should ask my friend, this clip might just answer that for you!”
Your eyes darted to the nearest screen as the clip rolled, it was an interview from the press tour of the movie Harry had been in last year. The interviewer had asked the cast who they’d love to work with on future projects and to your surprise, Harry’s pick was you. The interviewer then asked why you were his choice, Harry’s response was “she’s just so talented, every time I watch her in something I’m just profoundly captivated. Her on screen presence is incredible.” One of his castmates laughed, playfully poking Harry in the shoulder adding "If it wasn’t already obvious he’s got quite the crush! He made us watch like 4 of her films during our set downtime” before the clip ended.
Harry dramtically buried his head in his hands out of sheer embarrassment as the audience let out a series of ‘oooohs’ and whistles and James burst out laughing. You let out an laugh as you awkwardly fiddled with your fingers, not entirely sure what you were menat to say or do in that moment. "Well then Harold, go on, ask her out. Nows your chance!” James goaded. Harry was utterly mortified but wasnt the least bit surprised. “So... the weather?” the audience laughed at Harry’s miserable attempt at changing the subject. “Alright alright i’l drop it but you can’t say I didnt try! Just remember this moment when you get married ok?” James said, throwing his hands up in defeat as he got in one last playful jab.
The rest of the interview went awkwardly by, although you were a little distracted. Did he really have a crush on you? How could he have a crush on you? You’re the one who had the crush on him, surely he didn’t feel the same? James wrapped up the interview and once the cameras had cut both you and Harry made your way backstage.
“Well that was sufficiently awkward and I apologise for how uncomfortable I’m sure that made you. I’m honestly gonna fucking kill James for that” Harry said, you could only giggle in response. “He has no idea what’s coming the next time we catch up. In all fairness, despite how uncomfortable that whole ordeal was, it was lovely to meet you” the two of you smiled at each other. “It was lovely meeting you too Harry, no need to apologise, I bloody knew he was up to something. anyway, I have to head back to my dressing room, I’ll see you around” you say before starting to walk away. You only make it a few steps before Harry stops you “Hey wait! What are you doing this afternoon? This was my last interview for the day and I was gonna head from here to get some food. Wanna come along?” You pause for a moment to think about what the rest your day looked like before smiling back at him “Well, I had planned to go home and eat some left over chinese in front of a film... but I like your idea better. Swing by my dressing room on your way out?” Harry could conseal his happiness with your response, a giddy grin now plastered on his face “It’s a date, but we have to make a deal that neither of us tell James ok? You know how smug he’d be. Deal?” Harry said with a wink, reaching his hand out to seal the deal. You laughed as you shook his hand once more, this time a little less awkard than the first encounter. “My lips are sealed. Now you better not take too long, I’m starving!” you say as you walk away with a smirk and as they say, the rest was history.
Hey lovelies, I hope you enjoyed this one! And I hope the anon who requested it thinks I did an ok job! I havent done many request pieces. Also I know its not super long but I still think its pretty adorable. Requests are open, just shoot me a message and I’ll see what I can do! xx
#imagine harry styles#harry styles x reader#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry fic#harry styles fic#harry styles imagine#harry styles#one direction#harry fluff#harry smut#harry imagine#imagine harry#harry oneshot#harry styles onseshot
212 notes
·
View notes
Text
| stay the night | Matsukawa Issei
»»——⍟——««
song | Toothbrush - DNCE
pairing | Matsukawa Issei x Reader
warning(s) | Implied sexual intercourse
words | 1.6k
author’s note | Hello its late but ayeeee also not beta/proof-read so it probably sucks but umm yes I’ll come back to edit this later its late and I’m tired
»»——⍟——««
You were like quicksand.
The more he struggled, the faster he sunk. But who said he didn’t want to succumb to you?
“Going somewhere?” His drowsy drawl filled the air between the two of you, your movements freezing as if someone had pressed the pause button on you. You were in the middle of collecting your discarded clothes, tugging on your crumpled T-shirt that had seen better days.
Your words caught in your throat, like water in a river when it crashed face-into-face with a concrete dam. “I...”
The night was dark outside, which wasn’t a surprise seeing as it read 2am on his bedside clock. Even in the darkness, you could make out the sharp lines of his toned body, a result of his years of volleyball and continuos exercise. And even in the darkness, you could see the adorable sleepy smile he was wearing. (God, why did he have to be so good-looking???)
“You know, baby you don’t have to rush.” He said smoothly, as if he didn’t just catch you hurrying away from a one-night stand. Well, it wasn’t exactly a one-night stand, the two of you had gotten... Intimate before. “You could leave a toothbrush at my place.”
How could he resist from admiring you? The full moon outside highlighted the etherealness of your skin, painting you as a goddess whose beauty was unrivalled in all four corners of the world. The white sheet you clung around yourself only accented his image of you as a divine being, one that he had been blessed to meet.
“I... Don’t think that’d be a good idea.” Your nervous laugh made him frown. Why were you so nervous anyway? Weren’t you so pliant and submissive to his touch only a couple hours ago?
“There’s someone else, isn’t there?” He interrupted, his sharp eyes catching on your numerous giveaways. Your hands were shaking, you avoided eye contact, and you stuttered. Yes, maybe he hadn’t really gotten to know you outside his bedroom, but he knew how to recognise the signs of someone concealing the whole truth from him.
A sigh slid out from your lips. “Okay, look. My parents... Engaged me to someone, alright?” A breath of air escaped your mouth in a huff. “I don’t want to get married to him, but... My parents don’t want to die without seeing me in a wedding dress. Which is stupid, but they’re not getting any younger.”
“What, are you sharing a bed with him, too?” He snorted, trying his best to hold back the splash of jealousy that sparked across his tone.
You surveyed him carefully, your eyes trailing over his toned muscles. “... No, but it just... Feels wrong if I spend the night with someone else.” Reluctantly, you admitted why you’d never stay, confessing the guilt that plunged into your stomach like a heavy rock.
“Hold on, let’s rewind this a little...” Shaking his head, he held his hand up to stop you from talking. “This... Guy that you’re marrying... Do you like him at all?”
The lip bite was enough of an answer for him.
“You don’t.” He concluded simply, watching you struggle for a response.
“Well-! He’s... Nice, but a little of a pushover, and... Very reliant on his mother...” You noted with a wince. “Actually, screw that, I don’t see how its’ going to work out. His mom literally treats him like a five-year-old and he acts like he’s five-years-old.”
A scoff rang in Issei’s bedroom, rumbling from the depths of his throat to the vibrations in your ear drum. “You deserve someone better than that.”
“Are you volunteering?”
“If I am, will you stay the night?”
»»——⍟——««
Issei had never understood when Hanamaki explained that waking up next to someone you loved was the best feeling in the world. At least, he never understood until the morning sun trickled in through the slits of the curtains and he got a glimpse of your (hair colour) hair, swung over the pearl-coloured pillows.
Oh, and you were a blanket hogger.
Not that he minded. The nights were always too hot for him and he normally ended up kicking them off anyway. You, on the other hand, were wrapped up like a dumpling.
He froze when you stirred, moving in your sleep until you cuddled up next to him, tucking your chin into his chest with a satisfied hum. He didn’t dare move. Everything in him stopped momentarily. What if his heart beat too loud and he woke you up? (If he could’ve stopped his heartbeat he would).
It was in this way he gradually fell back asleep, your head tucked in his chest and his breathing eventually lining up with your steady ones. His phone rang once when his coworker texted to ask if he was okay, he responded with a quick ‘I’m sick’ and typed the shortest leave-requesting-email he had ever written in his entire life, trying to get the letters right without waking you up.
By the time he woke up, it was past 9am, and the sun was mercilessly beating down on him at that point. A yawn coursed through his body before he realised something wrong.
You were missing.
To your credit, you had stayed the night. Surely he couldn’t have expected you to stay in the morning, too?
“You’re awake.”
If he got a heart attack at that moment, Issei could die a happy man. As far as he could tell, you were dressed in only one of his t-shirts, the garment overflowing from your smaller shoulder width to your mid-thighs. He was also pretty sure his jaw dropped and he gaped at you for a decent amount of time, which would be embarrassing but really, could you blame him?
“I could get used to seeing you like this every morning.” He commented once he had recovered from his state of partial shock.
Your hair cascaded over your neck, and it was in that moment that Issei found out you were one of those people that could roll out of bed with your hair looking messy but in a perfect way. He would never change the position of a single strand, even if he was held at gunpoint. Why would anyone change perfection, anyway?
“I took the liberty of using your kitchen.” You replied with a smile. “Wash up and come out to eat. I took the day off.”
When Issei said he had never washed up that quickly in his entire life before, he truly meant it. He didn’t even run that fast when he missed his alarm and remembered there was a practice match that morning.
“About what I said last night.” He begin speaking while washing up the dishes, the soap bubbles eavesdropping on your conversation rather blatantly. You were leaning against the wall, your eyes judgemental as you eyed the (lack of) content in his fridge. “About volunteering.”
“Oh, it’s fine. I’ll probably just divorce him after a year or something.”
“No, it’s not fine. If you marry him I swear I will attend the wedding and I will raise my hand when the priest says ‘Speak now or forever hold your peace’.” He threatened, waving around the plate you put the fried eggs on. “I’ll marry you.”
“I’m sorry?”
Issei shot you a weird look. “Why are you sorry?”
“I’m sor- Did you say you’ll marry me?” Bewilderment painted your tone and your flummoxed expression, eyes as wide as the saucers Issei just finished washing.
“Uh... Yeah? You don’t want to marry him, I don’t want you to marry him, so you can marry me instead.” He explained, as if it was as simple as 1 + 1. “Your parents get to see you in a wedding dress.”
You blinked a couple times just to make sure you weren’t delusional. “How on Earth did you manage to come to that conclusion?”
“I don’t want you to marry anyone but me!” He defended, putting down the plate before he broke something and got the two of you injured by the sharp edges that would no doubt result from a broken plate. “Consider this with me for a moment. I would never pressure you into doing anything, you’re free to go anywhere you want as long as you’re safe and I know where you are, and uh...” He fumbled around for the last reason. “And you can use the coupons for free massages that I get from my volleyball magazine subscription.”
“Is that how you try and convince someone to marry you?”
“Wait, I have more reasons!”
“Such as?”
“I... Can make really nice coffee?” He suggested hopefully. “Oh, uh, I like kids. And... I’ll definitely put a lot of effort into planning dates. Plus I’m not a pushover, and I’m not mama’s boy.” He paused for a moment before adding: “That’s not to say I’m not nice to my mom. I transfer checks to her every month, I call her every Monday night, and I visit her on every second week of the month.”
You stared at him quietly. “... Then what do you suggest we do? I can’t just call my parents and go: ‘Hey, I was sleeping with this guy while you engaged me with this boy I didn’t even want to marry, can I marry the person I was sleeping with instead?’”
“Or, I could call your parents.”
“That sounds like a terrible idea.”
“Do you have any better ideas?”
“Seeing as I just agreed to marry you, I don’t think any ideas I have at the moment would be rational.”
“I’m the one who just asked you to marry me, aren’t my ideas even more irrational?”
»»——⍟——««
when Issei asks you to stay the night and you end up agreeing to marry him instead,,, on a separate note please don’t agree to marry a guy impulsively okay, look at what happened to Anna from Frozen
taglist. @mrs-kuroojinguji @procrastination-lady @drippinginhoneyandgold @shoyosun @aka-a-shii @shibayamasbae @churochuu @seijohlogy @dearsukuna @whootwhoot
send an ask to be either @owlywrites or @cadenceh2o to be added to Cadowly’s Songfic December taglist!
Kageyama’s fic is supposed to come out tomorrow :’) I haven’t even started writing it
#matsukawa issei#haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! x reader#matsukawa issei x reader#matsukawa x reader#matsukawa fluff#matsukawa issei x y/n#mattsun#aoba johsai x reader#seijoh x reader#aoba johsai#seijoh#aoba johsai third years#cady writesss «#cadowly's songfic december
123 notes
·
View notes
Text
Small post-prison Dream drabble
CW: (almost) panic attacks
If this gets a good enough reception, I may do more :)
It was raining, but Dream couldn't stop to appreciate it. Appreciating rain? Dream almost laughed at the idea, but after months of nothing but lava and obsidian, the cold and wet was a nice change of pace. There had been water in the prison, he supposed, but it was warm, heated by the lava all around him, warm and dirty after months of use. The cold was a nice change of pace. And this rain, this clean water, might actually do something to clean the blood of his skin. It was certainly soothing his burns and scars, burns and scars Quackity and Sam would have to pay for.
Dream needed more stuff, he needed diamonds then netherite, he needed enchantments and potions and farms, better food as well, he doubted he could handle another potato, he doubted he could handle much at all for the moment but that was a problem for later him. Bread would sustain him for now, although he did keep a few extra potatoes in his inventory just in case.
The problem was, he had nothing. Well that wasn't entirely true, he had some bread, a handful of potatoes and a freedom he hadn't had in months, but other than that, nothing. Not even a wooden pickaxe to his name and the entire server wanting him dead. Well then, better a wooden pickaxe than nothing, he thought. He had to start somewhere.
Breaking down a tree was more difficult than he remembered, or maybe he was just remembering what it was like with an efficiency V netherite axe. He might be weaker now, he might be more vulnerable, did the prison affect his muscles that much? He'd still managed to kill Tommy so he can't have wasted away too much, but then why was this stone taking so long to mine? He didn't have the weakness effect from the elder guardians anymore, but he wondered if the months of constant weakness had affected his muscles. Well that was just another thing on the to-do list, get stronger again. Maybe strength potions would work, but for that he'd have to go to the nether. He was a long way off being prepared for that.
After getting a stone pickaxe and axe, Dream wondered if caving or strip mining would be better. He didn't want to be in any cramped space if he could avoid it, but in order to get armour and weapons, in order to protect himself, he'd have to go in. Both had their benefits and downsides. Strip mining was more cramped, darker, closer to being like the prison he had only just escaped. But, if he was weaker after his stay there, it offered fewer mobs to deal with. Less chance to die right after he made it out. He couldn't die now, not after everything that had happened, not after he finally made it out. He had to get his revenge on Sam and Quackity, and that meant staying alive, getting gear, getting stronger. Punz as well, Punz had betrayed him. Went to Tommy and Tubbo and Sam to put him away. He'd cut ties with Punz though, he was on the list, just further down. No, it was Sam and Quackity that needed to pay the most. That meant going underground where there was no daylight and lava around any corner. So, strip mining it was then, less chance of dying was always a good decision. Plus, Dream thought, he couldn't let a stupid fear stop him from going where he pleased. He wasn't Tommy, getting scared whenever he was near a plains biome, he was Dream, a god, someone who had survived worse that a stupid obsidian box. And he was going to make them pay for putting him there.
He dug down to Y=11, finding some coal and iron on the way down. This was good, this was normal, he ignored the tightness in his chest. Although, it was eased by the chill air. He didn't know he could miss the cold, but here he was, feeling nostalgia over a temperature. A temperature, he quickly realised that he couldn't handle as well as he used to. Spending so much time next to a sea of lava, in the sweltering heat, had changed the way his body handled temperature, it seemed. He quickly made a torch and held it in his off hand. Fire would warm him up, enough that he didn't die at least. The furnaces smelting iron also helped warm him up. He made sure to note that wherever he ended up staying better be well insulated. He couldn't go for a desert though, the heat would be welcome but he wanted rain. Maybe a jungle? They were tricky to navigate which would help deter people from finding him. Warm, but not the heat of lava, wet, tricky to find. Perfect.
Enough iron had been smelted to make a pickaxe and a bucket. A good start. Strip mining had never been Dreams favourite, he got bored easily and, unless he managed to hyperfocus on the task, could never pay attention long enough to find anything. However today was different, while he did find himself getting bored and wanting to change tasks, he managed to force himself to continue mining, placing torches periodically to prevent spawns. The tightness in his chest eased a little at the moment.
Eventually he had enough iron for armour. It wouldn't be as strong as the netherite he was used to, the netherite he needed if he were to survive an encounter with another player, but it was better than nothing. Hadn't Technoblade beaten Quackity while only wearing iron armour? Although that was Quackity, Dream would need better armour to survive an encounter with a competent player.
Dream spotted diamonds, the last few he'd need for a full set of armour and tools. There was a problem though, they were across a large lava lake. He could already feel the heat, humid and heavy just like in the cell. The cell he'd only just escaped from. He could do this though, just bridge across the lava, grab the diamonds and head out. He'd need to deal with more lava in the nether anyway, this was nothing. This couldn't harm him. It just simply couldn't.
Dream shifted, edging across the lake. Slowly. He was usually so fast, it must have been the effects of the elder guardians, he told himself, his weakened muscles from the elder guardians, that must be it. Heat rose up to meet him, making him sweat under his heavy armour. His armour was so heavy, his muscles were weaker but were his bones as well? How long had it been since he had seen sunlight? There had been a small amount of time today, before he went mining, and it had been blinding. Too bright and yet not enough at the same time. He wanted to just lay in the sunshine with grass beneath his fingers forever. He had to bring his vitamin D levels up again. He wondered how many vitamins he was deficient in now, thanks to Sam. His body was wrecked and it was all Sam's fault, and Tommy's and Tubbo's as well.
The sound of the lava though, was what almost got him. It bubbled and popped rhythmically, always the same. In the cell there had been exactly three sounds: the elder guardians coming to weaken him, the constant ticking of the clock striking its way into his brain, and the bubble and pop of the lava preventing him from getting out. He knew every small sound lava could make, down to the smallest detail, and it was here again now. Except this time he had blocks and air above the lava. And, he realised while quickly unshifting and looking through his inventory, a water bucket. The hissing of obsidian being made was music to his ears, gone was the sound, almost. There was still a layer under the obsidian that was still quietly bubbling away, but the sound was obscured. Dream looked at the obsidian, that tightness in his chest was back. He ignored it, he had exclusively walked on obsidian for the last few months, he could do this again. He did. He walked, slowly, almost too slowly, over to the diamonds and mined them up. It was an eight vein, more than enough to complete everything. A couple diamonds to spare would always help anyway.
Next came enchantments, or the nether. He should probably check what he had in his ender chest, it had been so long he had almost forgotten anything that was in there, but the only ones he knew of were by where people lived (for obvious reasons) and he didn't exactly want to go there. So, he figured, off to the nether it was. Blaze powder and pearls were what he needed. Unenchanted diamond armour, he was prepared enough, he was over prepared if anything. Unless he found a player.Dream quickly found another lava pool, better to make a new portal than risk being found in a known one. The lava raised the same reaction as last time, but he needed it this time, he couldn't get rid of it. Well he could, he had a diamond pickaxe, but that was slow. Dream wasn't exactly known for being slow. He placed a block in the lava and the water next to it, steam came up to meet him as obsidian was formed. Breaking the block he placed caused more steam and more obsidian, but the base of the portal was complete. He made an upside down L shape with some cobble, placing water at the top. Now it was time to pick up the lava. Why couldn't he pick up the lava? He used to throw himself into lava for fun and how his stupid brain was saying he couldn't handle it through a bucket? Dream's breathing quickened, this was bad. He picked the water back up and made the rest of the lake into obsidian. The diamond pick would be useful after all. He told himself it was because he needed extra obsidian for an ender chest.
The purple spirals of the portal stared at Dream. He needed to go through. He needed to go through and find a fortress, not die, not have a panic attack, and get out. The first three points would be easy, the last? He had held it off so far, he could continue to do so. Until he was the most powerful person on the server again, he would not allow himself to rest enough for his brain to catch up on what happened. When he was safe, when he was feared, he could allow himself to examine his mental health, make it stronger again. He couldn't be seen as weak, they'd kill him, or put him back in the prison. He couldn't be weak. Dream stepped through the portal.
There were a few signs of life, but it didn't seem like he was in a well trafficked area. Not the best spawn, but he could work with it for now. He sneaked constantly, on the off chance someone else was around. The heat if the nether reminded him of the cell. At least there wasn't much obsidian around. He had spawned in a warped forest, so he quickly dug into the wall a little and stared at an enderman. He was too far for it to reach him, but he could reach it. It dropped a pearl. One half down, now he just needed to find a fortress. He added angry endermen to the list of sounds he wasn't sure why he missed, but did nonetheless.
The endermen reminded him of a certain hybrid waiting back in the overworld. He'd have to get into contact with Ranboo again.
He had never minded the heat of the nether before, but now it suffocated him. He longed for the wind, even the stale but cold air from caves, but he had to press on. He told himself the humidity, or the heat, was the reason he had difficulty breathing.
Eventually, Dream found a fortress. The blaze spawner was pretty easy to find as well. Finally, luck had decided to give him a break. The first blaze he killed didn't drop a rod, but the second one did. Blocking himself away, he pulled out a crafting table. The blaze rod got turned into power, then combined with the pearl to make an eye of ender. Finally, Dream surrounded the eye in obsidian, creating an ender chest.They have off a faint glow. Being boxed into the wall with netherack all around, the ender chest was Dream's only source of light. He had missed the darkness, the lava had always illuminated his cell, giving off a bright orange light that he couldn't escape. The chest was different though, softer, easier on the eyes.
Dream opened his ender chest. He found his spare set of netherite armour, not fully enchanted but he could make it work for now, he'd get books in a bit to make it stronger. He'd have to be stronger this time. This could never happen again. There was also a bunch of netherite, he'd upgrade his tools in a bit, once he was out of the nether. And, of course, there was his trident, his riptide III trident. Some small voice inside him hoped it was still raining when he got back to the surface.
He had God apples now. How appropriate, he thought, that the man who can bring back the dead, a walking god, get access again to his God apples.Dream ditched the diamond armour and tools, and pulled on the netherite. Nightmare. He still needed to train, get his strength back, brew potions. But he was back, and the people who threw him into the obsidian prison were going to pay.
He made his way back to the portal, back to the overworld. He had to admit to himself, however much he hated to do so, that he now hated the nether. It was too hot, too much lava, the bubble and pop sounding over and over and over just like in the prison, the stupid obsidian box. He'd use the overworld for travel when he could. But, he thought to himself, he couldn't show weakness to others, they couldn't know how they'd managed to infect his mind, he would travel via the nether when with others. If he ever was with others. Was there anyone left that didn't hate him? That hadn't left him? Dream pushed those thoughts aside, forced himself to climb back to the surface. The cold air of the caves was a relief from the nether, but it was the rain he was seeking.
Dream hopped onto the grass and just stood there for a few seconds, letting the cold soothing rain hit his face. He'd get too cold soon, he knew that his body's ability to regulate temperature was ruined by living next to lava for- how long was it? Dream didn't know, doubted he ever would for certain.He had a riptide trident, a water bucket, and feather falling netherite boots. Dream smiled, genuinely smiled for the first time in a long long while. Pulling out his trident, he pushed himself into the air. Wind and rain whipped his face, he didn't know he could miss this. Dream flew through the air, he was finally free.
Now time to grind, then hunt down Sam.
39 notes
·
View notes
Note
lu lost perle eventually, mundy comforting him-just like you said before.
Here it is!
It was a quiet Saturday that day, but Lucien would remember it all of his remaining life.
He was busy with the usual chores left and right in the house while his other half was in town. The van needed to be checked and the fridge nearly empty.
Lucien changed the sheets on the bed and went to deal with the laundry. He whistled to himself as he came down the stairs with a basin in his hands containing said laundry.
"Meow?"
"Oui, ma chérie. Tu veux aider Papa?"
[Yes, my darling. Do you want to help Papa?]
Lucien's white, long-haired cat followed her Papa, walking close behind him. As soon as he put the basin down, she jumped in the old sheets and rolled on her back.
"Perle, non…" He chuckled and scratched her, tickling her all over her belly. She tried to gnaw on his fingers, grab them and push them away playfully. He pulled her out of the basin after a minute of playing and carried her in his arms to hug her, holding her like a baby.
He sat down on the floor and spent a few minutes cuddling with her, talking with her, exchanging headbutts and words of love and praise.
Lucien absolutely loved his cat, she was his counsellor, confidente and since he had rescued her when she was but a kitten, he watched over her and raised her as he would a daughter. And he remembered when he had rescued her. She had rescued him too.
Back in those days, more than a decade ago, he was on a mission and was coming back to his hotel room where he had found her at his door dirty, shivering and fragile. She was so dirty in fact that she was grey with patches of yellowish filth.
She had hissed at him all the while climbing on his shoe and not letting go of his ankle. He remembered how she planted her still soft claws and little fangs into him. Lucien had of course pulled her out of him to get rid of her, but to no avail. She stayed on him and he had hated it…!
He had eventually entered his flat with her and gave her a bath. Lucien smiled as he remembered how she bit his hand as ferociously as she could, the poor thing, until he opened a can of tuna. Unsurprisingly enough, she soon preferred to plant her fangs there.
Since then, they had learnt to live together, spy and kitten. And when the Frenchman came back home from work, she would suck all his attention to herself, meowing, asking for pets, for scratches and for more playtime until the poor thing was exhausted and would fall asleep holding Lucien's hand between her paws.
"Meow!"
"Ma chérie, je dois m'occuper des linges, donne-moi un petit instant."
[My darling, I need to take care of the laundry, give me a little instant.]
He stood back up and resumed his chores.
In town, Mundy was making haste. He glanced one last time at the list that Lucien had hand-written for him.
"Oh bugger, that's last week's one, isn't it?" He flipped the note and the back read "Je t'aime, mon chéri", which he now knew translated to "I love you, my darling."
Yeah, that was last week's note. Mundy shoved a hand in his pocket and took all the lists out, reading them back and front with his groceries bag in hand, in the middle of the market. And his awkward flipping of the little notes made him drop his bag.
"Ah, bloody hell…!" He knelt down and picked them up. A woman kindly stopped to help him. "Thanks, mate."
"No worries." She smiled and took one of the notes from the ground. "Oh, your wife has a beautiful handwriting."
Mundy's eyebrows jumped and he smiled.
"Yeah, she does." He answered.
"Here you go, you go it all back."
"Thanks again."
"No problem, have a nice day!"
The woman went away and Mundy finally found the right note. He checked and when he was sure he hadn't forgotten anything, he headed back home.
Lucien always asked him to throw away the past notes to not get confused between them all but Mundy couldn't. He loved those notes, they all had a different message on the back, but were all signed with a capital, cursive L and a heart.
When he finally hit back home, Mundy opened the door wide and slipped in before pushing the door back with his foot, given that his hands were carrying the food bag.
"I'm home, Lu'! I got everything on the list."
Mundy headed straight for the kitchen and put the bag down on the table. He then removed his jacket to get more comfortable, and hung it next to the front door.
"Lu'?"
The Frenchman was nowhere to be heard, so the Aussie started looking in every room.
"Lu'? Where are you, love?"
No one was downstairs so Mundy went upstairs. After looking in the bedroom and even the bathroom, he came out confused and frowning.
"Where the hell is he…?" He wondered out loud while putting his hands on his hips. He came back to the kitchen, dragging his feet, and looked at the notes on the fridge. That was how Lucien communicated when he wasn't there, by leaving a note on the fridge. But there wasn't any new one.
Hm. Odd.
Mundy turned to go back to the living room when a sight caught his eye through the French window, in the garden.
"Gosh…" He rushed to it and opened it. "Lu'? What are you doing there? Oh?"
The Frenchman was sitting cross-legged, his back to Mundy and his entire upper body rocking back and forth.
"Lu'...?"
When Mundy turned around him, his jaw dropped. Lucien was crying, holding Perle against his chest and rocking back and forth like a mad man.
"What is it…?" Mundy crouched down. "What's wrong? Why're you holdin' Pearl like that?"
The Frenchman couldn't speak, he couldn't move, he couldn't do anything but keep his eyes closed and let his tears stream down his face, continuously. His breath hitched each time he tried to catch it, before he would dive in his sorrow again.
"What is it?" Mundy repeated and Lucien curled up even more on Perle. "Love, don't hold her that hard…" The Aussie put a hand between them, on Perle's fluff. "She'll claw you if you - oh, God…"
His pupils retracted to a dot when he felt how cold the cat was. His eyes darted to Perle, her face, her eyes that were still open.
"No… Give her over here…"
Lucien was so overwhelmed that he did not fight Mundy back. The Aussie took the cat in his arms and realised how limp her body was.
"Pearl…? Pearl, baby? Pearl? Talk to Dad? Meow to Papa, Pearl? Pearl?!"
He sat down and scratched her cheeks, feeling his own burn with the tears rising.
"Pearl, baby, say somethin', please?"
Lucien lowered his head and covered face in his hands, drenching them with more tears.
"Oh my God…" Mundy started crying too, sniffling between two bits of sentences. "When? When did she…?"
"I don't know… I was dealing with the laundry… She came to play with me and then she went on her own way… Next time I saw her, she was… she was on the grass and… Mundy…" Lucien caught his breath in a staccato. "Mundy…" He burst out crying again, leaning on his lover.
"I'm… Fuck…" Mundy pushed her eyelids to shut down. "We need to treat her right, baby, you hear me?"
Lucien nodded, his forehead against Mundy's shoulder.
"Right… Go in the house and get a box."
"Mundy, I can't… I… Tell me she is fine, please… I… I can't live without her… She has been here for the past fifteen years or so… I can't, Mundy…"
"Love, we gotta do what's right…" Mundy sniffled and looked down at his lover. "Y'know what, you hold her safe and I'll get what we need, yeah?"
"Mundy, please, no…" Mundy gave him the cat and knelt down to lace his arms around Lucien.
"Love, I… There's nothing else anyone can do…I'm sorry, I'm so bloody sorry…"
"But Mundy… She was our baby… Perle, ma chérie… Mon amour… Mon bébé… Ma petite Perle chérie…"
[Pearl, my darling… My love… My baby… My little darling Perle…]
Lucien held her in his arms and curled on her to hug her as tight as possible, crying in her fur. Mundy held him and let his tears flow too for a minute or so, before he stood up.
A moment later, he came back with a box and a shovel. He walked past Lucien and started digging in the garden.
Lucien didn't pay attention to him and kept on talking to his cat as if she could still hear him.
The sound of the shovel hitting the ground dissolved in the air and Lucien noticed only when it stopped, and the silence fell heavily. He turned to Mundy and saw the Aussie on his knees. Yeah, that hole was deep and big enough.
"C'mere, Lu'. Bring her in."
The Frenchman obeyed. He lay Perle in the box, and both him and Mundy closed it, crying all the while. When the box was lowered, they stood on all four and put the soil back, crying and mumbling, trying to bid farewell to the best friend and baby they both shared.
When they were done, none of them could move. Their hands were dirty, as were their trousers from kneeling down on the ground, but none of them cared. They stayed there in the garden, on their knees.
"Do you think that… we gave her a good life?" Lucien asked.
Mundy turned his head to look at him before closing the gap between them and lacing an arm around his lover.
"Yeah… Course, we did. She… She lived the best life she could ever have dreamt of. We… We treated her really well. I mean…" Mundy had to stop for an instant, to steady his breath. "We loved her so much… She was like… She was our baby, our little baby girl and… And you cooked for her from time to time and she'd always be there in the house… She'd be… She'd be playin' around with us and… Gosh, she was the best kitty ever. She was friendly and never attacked anyone. She loved to be the centre of attention and yeah, she loved pets and scratches and all that…"
"Mundy, I miss her…" Lucien turned and buried his head in Mundy's chest before crying more.
Grieving took weeks. The house was oddly silent. No one was there to steal the chicken when Lucien was preparing it. No one was shedding their white hairs on Lucien's clothes. No one would wake Mundy up early for nothing else but attention. No one would nap in impossible locations and positions. And when either Lucien or Mundy opened the cupboard in the kitchen, no one came and meowed for treats.
The silence sometimes screamed loud. The absence of meows and noises of claws on the wooden floor was unbearable.
That day, months after Perle had passed, Mundy was cleaning the house and realised that they hadn't dealt with Perle's toys, her bed, her cat tree and scratching post. All of her was still there, in the house. Neither him or Lucien had the strength to throw it away. It still counted too much. Mundy stared at Perle's little bed. He had built it with a few wooden planks and a pillow. Lucien had always chosen the pillow cases. They were all girly pink, or white with red hearts for example.
Mundy stared and stared. He sighed and Lucien saw him walk to the front door and take an umbrella.
"Where are you going, mon amour?"
[My love]
"I won't be long."
The Aussie exited the house. It was pouring outside and the umbrella was barely enough to protect him. He walked and walked. His heeled boots splashed into the thin layer of rain water on the pavement.
Lucien was left home, alone. He hated it. He didn't know what to do. He tried watching some television, doing some chores, anything! The silence was making him mad. He did all the chores and even prepared some dinner, in the middle of the bloody afternoon, just to keep him busy, and the house a bit noisy!
He ended up in the kitchen, looking through the French window where the grass had grown back, in that little corner. He had planted a little olive tree there now. Why? Because they had another one and Perle loved climbing it and playing with the olives when the time of the year was right. So there it was, the baby olive tree, growing as well as it could.
Lucien sighed and wrapped his arms around himself. Mundy, please come back soon…
And as if God himself had heard him, the front door opened.
"Mundy?"
"Yeah, love, it's me, I'm back, darl'."
Lucien went to him and took the umbrella away.
"Where did you go? It is pouring rain outside, couldn't it wait? Look at you, you are drenched."
"Yeah, I know, I'm sorry. I had to pick this up."
"Couldn't a new pair of shoes wait?" Lucien answered and took the drenched shoe box that Mundy was holding. "You left me alone and… It was horrible!"
Mundy removed his boots and his jacket.
"Look, gimme just a second. I'll take a quick shower and be right back with you."
Lucien looked at the shoe box and frowned. He put it next to Mundy's shoes near the front door and went to prepare some coffee.
When the Aussie came back fresh and dry, he hugged his lover from behind in the kitchen and kissed his temple.
"Hey, love."
Lucien didn't answer.
"Where did you put the box I brought with me?"
The Frenchman frowned.
"Next to your shoes."
"Oh, ok, be right back." Mundy went and returned a second later. "Love, come and sit on the sofa."
Lucien grabbed both their coffee mugs and came to the living-room. He took a seat on the sofa and put the coffees on the coffee table.
"Here." Mundy handed him the box.
"Mundy, I do not need shoes."
"Take it."
"Mundy-"
"I said, take it. Open it and see."
Lucien sighed. He took the box that he put on his lap and stared at it blankly for a second. He hated boxes now.
"C'mon, open it."
He placed his fingers left and right and lifted the cover.
"Mon Dieu!"
[My God!]
In the box lay a kitten. It was all grey and very fluffy with still its kitten fuzz.
"What is this, Mundy?"
"It's a kitten."
"I know, but what… I mean why?" Lucien asked, staring at the ball of fluff looking everywhere around it.
"Meow…?" The mewl was adorable and it pinched Lucien's heart.
"It's a baby girl. She's about two months old now. No one wants to adopt her cause people don't find grey cats pretty, so I took her from the shelter."
Lucien gently picked her up in his palms and pushed the box away to drop her on his lap.
"What is her name?"
"We can name her whatever we want, love." He smiled and Lucien's eyes filled with tears. He raised the kitten to his chest and hugged her dearly.
"Mon Dieu… She… She is so soft and…"
"Yeah, she was the last one of the litter too. All her brothers and sisters got adopted."
"Poor creature…" Lucien's tears beaded at the corner of his eyes and as he blinked, they slid down his slim cheeks.
"Yeah…" Mundy got closer and hugged his lover. "So what d'you wanna call her?"
"Perle." Lucien answered without thinking for one second.
"You sure? You named Pearl that way cause she was white. This one's grey."
"I know. But look at her… You did not see Perle when I rescued her but she looked similar to this one. She was a ball of grey hair too."
"We should name her something different." Mundy said. "She's not Pearl and she will never be her."
"I know, I just…"
The kitten mewled in Lucien's hands. He put her on his shoulder and she went to his neck and started playing with his face and his hair.
"Hey, it's fine. Let's have a think, yeah? She's grey this little one. What's grey?"
"I do not know…"
"Clouds?"
"Non." Lucien chuckled under the kitten's mewls. He offered more of his face and she touched his cheeks and headbutted him. "She is very excited…! Non, non, non, this is Papa's nose, don’t use your claws.”
“Meow!”
“Don’t talk back either, petit chaton cendré.”
“What did you call her?”
“Little ashen cat.” Lucien answered, playing with her on his lap.
“Ashy!”
“What?”
“Her name. She could be Ash, Ashy, something like that.”
“What about Cinderella?” Lucien asked.
“Meow?”
“It comes from Cinder which is grey, non?”
“Yeah, go for Cinderella, or Cindy for short.” Mundy answered. “What would that be in French?”
“Cendrillon.” Lucien answered. “A beautiful, princess name.”
The kitten played with his fingers.
“Now, I am Papa, and this scruffy man here is Dad.”
“Meow?”
“Scruffy?” Mundy repeated.
“Oui, you are scruffy, but I love your scruffiness.”
“Scruffy?” He repeated again and Lucien held the kitten up, facing Mundy.
“Cendrillon, do you find your Dad to be scruffy?”
“Meow!”
“See, she does!”
“No, she doesn’t!”
Both chuckled and Lucien freed their new baby on the carpet. She started discovering her vast new territory, one that she would soon call home. Meanwhile, Papa and Dad were still on the sofa.
“Thank you, Mundy.” Lucien snuggled against his lover.
“Hey now, it’s nothing.”
“Non, it is everything. I did not even think about saving a new kitten.”
“Nah, you can’t think straight when you’re sad, baby.” Mundy held his lover closer and kissed his hair. “Feel a bit better?”
“Oui, thanks to you again.”
“Bah, my pleasure, really. I love seeing that smile on your old face.”
“Old?!” Lucien exclaimed, his eyes opening wide.
“Well, if I’m scruffy, then you’re old.”
“Old?!”
“You're a good kind of old, like wine. You just keep gettin’ better and better. Can’t get enough of you.”
Mundy’s hands and lips made the Frenchman’s brain melt and his complaint dissolved in the heat of the embrace.
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
Galactica, Chapter 66 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica
A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫
Last Chapter: Katya decided that parenthood might be in the cards after all, Pearl couldn’t get Dahlia out of her head, and Violet worried that Sutan’s friends would never be able to respect her.
This Chapter: Brunches, presents, an announcement, a trip to the champagne room, and a new hire.
***
Sutan opened the door to his apartment, a smile blooming on his face at the fact that the light was still on, which meant Violet hadn’t gone to bed yet.
It was after 8, Sutan spending the day with Gigi and then going to a Christmas reception in the evening with Tamisha, his boss pleading with him to please come with her and make sure no one she hated talked to her, Sutan guarding her for the entire cocktail hour.
“Violet?” Sutan called out, hanging his jacket up and toeing his shoes off.
“Bathroom!”
Sutan walked through the apartment, the door to the bathroom open. Violet was standing at the sink, her fingers braiding her hair into French braids.
“Hey,” Violet smiled and gave him a quick kiss, her lips tasting faintly like sugary lip scrub. “I didn’t know if you’d be home, but I got dinner for you too.”
“What are we having?” Sutan leaned against the sink, watching Violet who unscrewed the lid on one of her face creams, scooping out a dollop and rubbing it into her skin.
“Lentil soup.”
“Yum.” Sutan drawled, his tone bone dry.
It wasn’t that he hated lentil soup, but he’d never understand why Violet ate it voluntarily when the entirety of Manhattan's takeaway options were open to her.
“Don’t act like that,” Violet huffed, holding up her hand with a bit of leftover face moisturizer, silently asking him if he wanted it and Sutan nodded, Violet’s fingers gliding over his cheek seconds later. “It’s good for you.”
“Do I at least get bread this time?” Sutan had to bite his lip not to smile, Violet looking at him like he had grown a second head when he had complained about the distinct lack of bread on his plate the last time she had ordered dinner.
“Yes,” Violet rolled her eyes, but she continued rubbing in tiny circles, even dipping her fingers again to make sure she had enough to cover his entire face.
“Lucky me,” Sutan wasn’t sure if he was talking about the bread, or about the strange little things Violet always tended to do for him, this little traditions of theirs starting in Paris when Violet had needed to get rid of some extra hand moisturiser and had ended up massaging it into his skin.
“Did you have a good day?” Violet ran a finger down his nose, the pressure weirdly comforting, her never ending attention to detail carrying into this as well, the finishing tap on his nose a sign that she was done.
“Very good.” Sutan smiled as he watched Violet wipe her hands, her bedtime routine done for now even though she was still in her work clothes. “Been all over the city. Shopping, dinner, the whole shebang since I’m training a new model.”
“Great.”
Violet wasn’t fully paying attention because she had already heard of days like that before, instead grabbing her crutches to get to the kitchen, but Sutan didn’t mind.
In past relationships, he would have been interrogated if he had said he had spent the day with a model, Kahmora in particular, always keeping an eye on him.
He hadn’t thought much of it then, hadn’t even considered that there could be anything wrong with it, after all, it showed that they cared, but he had to admit that it felt amazing that Violet trusted him to do his job and just his job.
“I put your soup in the fridge,” Violet made her way to the kitchen table, sitting down to keep him company while he ate his dinner. “Sorry that it’s cold.”
“I don’t mind,” Sutan pressed a quick kiss to her temple, walking over to the fridge. “Oh. Speaking of.” Sutan looked over his shoulder. “I got you something.”
“You did?”
“It’s on the table.” Sutan grabbed the container of soup, an order of bread lying untouched on the counter. “White plastic bag!”
Just like with the ring dish, Sutan hadn’t actually realised how often he just dumped his stuff on his kitchen table, the quick pitstop he had taken at home to change into evening wear just enough time to add to the ever growing pile that Violet patiently stacked against the wall every single day.
Sutan dumped the soup into a bowl, opening the cabinet that hid the microwave to pop it in.
“Sutan… What…” Sutan turned around, looking at Violet who was holding the iPhone 6 box he had picked up at the Apple store. “What’s this?”
“A phone?” He leaned against the counter, the microwave humming away. “I’m sure you’ve seen one before.”
“I understand that it’s a phone, but why are you giving this to me?”
Sutan paused, that question not at all the one he had expected. He was thankfully saved by a ding, the microwave telling him that his food was ready so he had time to think.
“Well, isn’t it obvious? They had the newest model in stock,” Sutan took his bowl, grabbing a spoon before he walked over to the table, Violet’s brown eyes following his every step. “And your phone is barely working.”
“I don’t think-” Violet pursed her lips, clearly swallowing her words. “I can buy my own phone.”
Sutan smiled. Of course. He should have seen it coming. You wouldn’t know it just looking at Violet, his girlfriend so prim and proper from the outside, but she was adorably non-materialistic if it didn’t concern clothes.
“You could, but you haven’t, and I happened to be at the Apple store.”
“I-” Violet looked at him, her brown eyes searching his face. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome lovely eyes,” Sutan captured her healthy foot under the table, holding it between his own. “I’m here for whatever you need.”
***
Bianca picked up the French press and poured herself a second cup of coffee, inhaling the fragrance as she lifted it to her lips. She and Courtney had been in bed all morning, but finally decided to wander downstairs for a very late breakfast.
She looked up to where Courtney stood at the stove, concocting some kind of tofu scramble.
“How’s it going over there?”
Courtney had insisted it was one of the few things she knew how to cook, happily chopping tomatoes, zucchini, shallots, and pretty much every other vegetable Bianca had on hand before dumping it all in a sizzling wok. Bianca was frankly unconvinced that she knew what she was doing, but told herself she’d eat it regardless.
“It’s great! Almost done!” Courtney chirped, adding what Bianca noted was a respectable amount of hot sauce for a white girl.
“Sounds great,” Bianca said, opening a cabinet to grab some plates.
“It’s so nice having a stove,” Courtney commented. She said it in a breezy, offhanded way, but it gave Bianca pause, turning towards her with a furrowed brow.
“You don’t have a stove?”
Courtney bit her lip, suddenly embarrassed, and explained, “Well, my place is a studio, and...uh, there’s not like a full kitchen.”
Bianca nodded, doing her best to keep the judgment off her face. No stove meant that whatever place Courtney was renting was not a real studio, and likely an illegal sublet. She shuddered to think of all the potential safety violations in that kind of set-up. Nevertheless, she decided to drop the subject, putting the plates down and slipping an arm around Courtney’s waist, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
“Thank you for making breakfast, baby.”
“Anytime…” Courtney gave the pan another stir with a wooden spatula before leaning back against Bianca, letting her hold her even tighter.
“So listen...I, uh...have a proposal for you.”
“Oh?” Courtney tilted her head back, one eyebrow raised.
“Yeah, so, there’s this big fucking board meeting scheduled for January 6th, so I’m probably gonna stay in town over the holidays. I was thinking that maybe you could stay here, while Galactica’s shut down. With, uh, full stove access. Would you like that?”
Courtney whirled around, her beautiful face beaming, throwing her arms around Bianca’s neck and exclaiming, “I’d love it!”
Bianca leaned forward to capture her lips in a gentle kiss which soon grew deeper as Courtney arched against her, backing her up against the island. Bianca smiled against her mouth, unable to stop the dimples from piercing through as she thought about how lucky she was.
They stayed like that, blissfully wrapped in each other, until Bianca lifted her head to ask, “Is something burning?”
“Shit!”
***
“Mmh,” Trixie had to bite down a moan, his mouthful of waffles and bacon like an explosion of flavor. “Holy shit!”
“So?” Katya grinned, looking at him with her blue eyes. “Are they up to the standard?”
Their entire Sunday brunch crew, and even Violet, was gathered in their living room, Katya cooking for everyone, the table stacked with hearty and filling winter recipes like ginger and peach pudding, spiced sweet potatoes, apple pancakes and baked chickpeas.
“They’re amazing!” Trixie smiled, shoving another forkful down, the salt and the syrup perfect together.
“Awh thanks sugar butt,” Katya pressed a kiss against his cheek, which made Kim produce a retching noise.
“Take it to the bedroom you two!” Kim threw her napkin at them, which made Shangela snort and Ivy giggle.
“Be careful what you wish for Kimmie,” Pearl drawled, a stack of apple pancakes largely untouched on her plate, “because you really don’t want them to take it to the bedroom.”
“Everyone,” Max rolled his eyes, even though he was still smiling and Trixie snorted, a sense of pride welling up in his chest at Pearl’s words.
Sure, he and Katya had a tendency to be loud, but how could he not when Katya was the hottest woman alive, her innovation, commands and demands in the bedroom so fun and rewarding to follow.
“Actually,” Katya sat up straight, Trixie mourning the loss of her heat for a moment, until he recognized the serious expression on her beautiful face. “Trixie and I have an announcement.”
Everyone grew quiet, all watching them as Katya stood up.
“I’m pregnant...and we’re keeping it.”
At once, the table erupted in cheers, Ivy hopping up off the chair she was sitting on to go hug Katya, while Pearl made a beeline for the kitchen, yelling over her shoulder that she was getting the champagne.
“Congratulations!” Violet smiled, her hands clasped together. “That’s amazing!”
“It is,” Trixie smiled, warm happiness filling his entire body as he watched Katya laugh, Shangela joining in on the hug.
“Mama! I can’t believe you're gonna be a Mama!” Shangela grinned, holding Katya’s elbow and shaking her. “I thought you were completely set on never having kiddos?”
“I thought I was, but-” Katya looked at Trixie, their eyes meeting across the table. “It happened and, I mean. What’s the worst case scenario? That we fuck up and they become a serial killer?”
“Shit, that would be fucked up,” Kim snorted, her eyes widening. “Not that killer isn’t a cool name.”
“Now that’d be something!” Pearl grinned, returning to the living room with a bottle of champagne and several glasses, the stems between her fingers. She bent down, pressing her cheek against Katya’s stomach. “Hi Killer! We can’t wait to meet you!”
“Pearl!” Trixie swatted his best friend's shoulder, but Katya was laughing, holding Pearl’s head and pressing it against her stomach, and while Trixie seriously hoped his child wouldn’t become a serial killer, he had to admit that it was a little bit funny.
“Seriously,” Shangela looked around. “All y’all need Jesus. Stat.”
***
“Courtney,” Tyra said, rapping on the glass jewelry case to get her attention. “Courtney…”
“Court!” Morgan cut in sharply, and at that she finally looked up.
“You ready to take a break?” Tyra asked. “There’s a pho place right around the corner that we could try.”
“Oh, uh...yeah, just give me a couple of minutes.”
Tyra exchanged a put-upon look with Morgan, who returned her look with an exaggerated eye roll. When they’d suggested meeting up, neither of them were anticipating following Courtney around as she scoured antique stores to find the perfect Christmas present for Bianca.
She’d already found a huge book of 1960s fashion photography, as well as a vintage Hermes scarf, but apparently that wasn’t enough for her precious girlfriend. And worse, she’d been talking about nothing except Bianca all afternoon.
Tyra didn’t care if Courtney was gay or bi or whatever, but this slavish devotion to her brand new relationship was extremely tedious, and it made Tyra long for the days when Courtney would date men whose names she forgot three days later.
“Ooh, look at these!” Courtney exclaimed, pointing to a pair of earrings. “Aren’t they beautiful?!”
“Nice,” Morgan said, barely looking up from her phone.
They were nice. As annoyed as Tyra was, she had to admit that. They looked like brass, cut into art deco shapes and adorned with garnets, exactly the right style for Bianca, at least from what Tyra could tell from seeing her on TV.
“Excuse me,” Courtney asked the sales clerk, “How much are these earrings here? I can’t see the price tag.”
The clerk took a key and opened the case, pulling out the earrings to examine the price tag before declaring, “$279.”
Morgan whistled softly under her breath and the clerk raised one eyebrow, just barely but enough to be noticed.
“Shall I ring them up for you?” he asked drily, clearly expecting her to say no, already moving to put the earrings back into the case.
“Um…” Courtney bit her lip, fingertips resting on the edge of the glass.
“Court, you’re not seriously gonna spend that much are you?” Tyra asked, appalled. She’d seen Courtney’s apartment. That girl did not have a damn penny to spare.
“Yeah, she knows you’re poor, there’s no way she’s expecting some expensive gift,” Morgan added.
“No, I know, but…” Courtney squared her shoulders and looked at the sales clerk, saying, “I’ll take them.”
Tyra looked at Morgan behind her back, scandalized, shaking her head. Morgan smothered a laugh with her hand and gave a little shrug as if to say, ‘It’s her credit card debt.’
***
Pearl was back at the club again. At 4 pm on a Sunday. Which was totally normal, right?
Right.
She sighed slightly, swirling the whiskey in her glass, unable to hear the clink of ice cubes over the pounding bass. She should definitely leave, she knew that, and told herself that she would… She wasn’t going to say that she was obsessed, wasn’t going to give in to the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about Dahlia, but she was leaning on the side of pathetic, and if there was one thing Pearl Liaison didn’t do, it was pathetic.
She probably had to rethink that though, as she handed one of the managers 200 dollars in cash, the man taking her to a small enclosed room, a heavy red curtain blocking out the rest of the club.
Her stripper alias was “Sin,” which was both absurdly simple and painfully fitting, Pearl drawn to her dangerous beauty like a spell, hungry for even the smallest taste of her.
Pearl tapped her fingers against her thigh, her lip between her teeth, when she heard a voice come from the doorway.
“Well well well,” Dahlia smirked, pushing the curtain aside. “Look who’s back.”
Pearl felt her heart skip a beat as Dahlia gave her a slow once-over, her bedroom eyes even sexier when she was so close. Today’s outfit was a sinful (fitting) red set, a garter belt digging into Dahlia’s soft tan skin.
“Mmmh.” Pearl tried to keep her face blank and expressionless, tried desperately to hang onto the last bit of control, but she couldn’t stop her heart from speeding up as Dahlia made her way across the room, her palms getting sweaty as she swayed her hips to the music.
“So,” Dahlia smiled, swinging a leg over Pearl’s lap. “You know the rules right?”
She smelled like peaches, and Pearl had to dig her fingers into the velvet of the couch she was sitting on.
“No touching,” Dahlia reminded her, full lips twisted into a smirk.
“I’ve never been a fan of rules.”
“Good thing that isn’t up to you then,” Dahlia sat down, and Pearl had to bite back a groan as she took her weight, the woman an insane tease. “Promise me that you’ll be good?” Dahlia tilted her head, her lips slightly separated, “or I promise you that a bouncer will kick your ass to the curb.”
“Shit, right, right.” Pearl nodded, and Dahlia grinned.
“Good girl.”
Pearl swallowed. Dahlia reached out, grabbing a remote from behind Pearl, a small speaker inside their room powering up, and Pearl was in heaven as she began to move.
To call it a dance would be generous, but Pearl didn’t care. She was mesmerized by her curves, watching her with rapt attention as she swayed her hips, bent down to slowly unhook the garters, leaving them dangling. Dahlia was sin personified, her bra holding her perfect tits in place, the promise of hard nipples just underneath the lace.
Dahlia turned around, and Pearl knew instantly that she worked out, her ass round and firm, the kind of deliciousness that only came from discipline and hard work. A quick motion and her bra was now unhooked. She let the straps slide off her shoulders, finally dropping the bra on the ground.
“Turn around,” Pearl whined, unable to help herself, and Dahlia looked back over her shoulder, dark eyes flashing with amusement.
“You really want it, huh?” she asked, and Pearl nodded vigorously.
“Uh huh.”
Dahlia turned back slowly, hands demurely covering her chest, lashes fluttering.
“Please…”
She kneeled on the couch, straddling Pearl’s thighs before removing her hands, arching up forward to display her glorious tits, brown nipples hard and so, so close.
Pearl bit back a whimper, and Dahlia began to roll her hips slowly, inching closer and closer until her perfect mouth was right up against Pearl’s ear.
“What are you thinking about, baby?”
“How much I hate rules,” slipped out of Pearl’s mouth before she thought better of it, and Dahlia laughed.
“Poor thing...” Dahlia clucked, taking Pearl’s hand from the arm of the sofa and inching it towards her body. First her thigh, skating her fingertips higher and higher up her beautiful tan skin, flashing the naughtiest smile as she got closer to her lace, barely-there panties.
Pearl’s chest heaved, and Dahlia laughed, right in her face, redirecting her hand higher and higher, palm very nearly brushing against one of her pert nipples, finally letting it rest on her bare shoulder as Dahlia ran her own fingers teasingly across Pearl’s.
She arched forward again, those incredible tits grazing Pearl’s own chest. Pearl squirmed painfully on the sofa as Dahlia body-rolled against her, not daring to move her hand from where it was placed, fingers digging into the smooth skin.
She was close, could feel herself on the edge, and orgasm so close just from this, and then suddenly the song had ended, and Dahlia hopped up off her lap, re-clipping her garters, picking up her bra from the floor.
Pearl tried one last hail Mary, hoarsely saying, “Give me your number.”
Dahlia laughed, shaking her head. “No way. This...this is business.” She gestured to the room around them. “That would be...not. And anyway, what would your girlfriend say?”
“She-” Pearl swallowed. “We broke up.”
“Do you think I’m stupid?”
“We did!” Pearl sputtered. “It’s true.”
“Yeah, well, even so...you do know I’m her friend, right?” Dahlia asked pointedly.
“Well…”
“Exactly,” Dahlia said, shaking her head again. “You’re asking for trouble.”
“I want to see you again,” Pearl said.
“You can see me anytime,” she said sweetly, adding pointedly, “As long as you bring cash,” before leaving, shutting the curtain behind her.
Pearl let her head drop back against the sofa, a deep sigh leaving her. Fuck.
***
“So,” Trixie tried not to tap his fingers or look at himself as he watched his computer screen, Skype pulled up.
Trixie didn’t like doing job interviews, the process tedious and draining each and every time, living up to Fame’s expectations and wishes difficult on a good day.
Interviews, however, were especially draining when it happened digitally, trying to act natural hard enough on its own when on screen, but as the manager and department head, it was his responsibility to feel out potential hires, to figure out if they’d fit with his team or not, but he had a decent feeling with this one.
“Are you interested?”
“Fuck yes!”
Trixie had to hide a grin, Aurora practically beaming through the screen. She was very pretty with tan skin, white blonde hair and full brows, the striped shirt she was wearing fashionable and fun.
Aurora had an impressive portfolio, her references were decent, and most importantly, she seemed like someone Fame could be impressed with if given time and guidance.
“Oh fuck-” Aurora grimaced, the enthusiasm gone for a second before she recovered, trying to play it cool. “I mean yes. Yes I’d love that.”
“Great.” This time, Trixie couldn’t hold back the laugh, Aurora probably fitting right into his department if she could keep the attitude in check.
“Our legal department will take care of your visa,” Trixie jotted down that he’d have to talk to Rita, work permits always a massive pain in the ass, “but you’re starting January 10 either way, and hopefully you won’t have to work remotely for long.”
#rpdr fanfiction#thedane#veronica#galactica#vitan#bitney#trixya#dahlia x pearl#raja gemini#violet chachki#courtney act#bianca del rio#trixie mattel#katya zamolodchikova#shangela laquifa wadley#kim chi#pearl liaison#tyra sanchez#dahlia sin#a'whora#morgan mcmichaels#lesbian au#m/f au#fashion au#smut
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
Amortentia - A Jily Oneshot
Summary - No, James does not get Sirius to say something stupid so they’d have a switch of positions because obviously Slughorn would put either one of them with Lily. Any one of them would do, really.
Well I loved writing this as I was writing it and now that it’s all done with I can’t bare to even read it once again or edit it so here it is. James and Lily brewing Amortentia together in 7th Year potions class.
Lily Evans, 7th Year student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Head Girl was pleased to say that she was perfectly normal thank you very much. Except, at the moment she was sure her skin was a darker shade of red than her hair and her heart was beating frantically inside her ribcage threatening to fall out. It reminded her of one of those fishes that she’d watched as a little girl when her father fished them out of the waters right onto the mud where they would beat their fins on the floor thudding loudly until, they stopped.
“Yes, of course Miss Evans,” said Professor Slughorn beaming widely at her. “Would you please tell us all how you identified the potion?”
“Yes, Sir,” she said trying to keep a straight face. “It was by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen and the steam rising in characteristic spirals. And not to forget, its smell.”
“Very well, very well,” said Professor Slughorn beaming widely at her. “10 points to Gryffindor. Now, before we begin brewing this incredibly powerful and dangerous potion, I might add, I need you all to understand very clearly that-”
And he went on about how ‘when you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love’ and the ill effects of Amortentia. Now again, Lily Evans 7th Year student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Head Girl was still very pleased to say that she was perfectly normal, thank you very much. For as if it were any other girl of her own age, in her position in all meaning of that word, they wouldn’t have been able to think straight. But here she was in a very normal state of mind, a very abnormal normal beating of her heart, a very abnormal normal flushing of her skin and a very normal feeling all over.
It didn’t take her long to recognise the scent that overtook her when she entered the dungeons this fine afternoon, the odd smells and its vapours that she was so fond of, the smell of parchment, and him. But that didn’t stop her from raising her hand when Professor Slughorn had asked the students to identify the potion whose smell was wafting across the dungeons much to the chagrin of the content and grinning N.E.W.T level students. That didn’t stop her from answering, without a stutter or stammer mind you, when Professor Slughorn asked her how she identified the potion correctly.
“Evans,” nudged an all too familiar voice from beside her. “Didn’t you hear him?”
“No,” she said. Because no, she wasn’t perfectly normal as she claimed to be. She was a witch for starters, and a completely mad one at that.
“Sorry, what?” said James looking a little confused. “You can tell him if you want to, you know. I would myself but he’d think I’m saying it just because I want to go back to Sirius.”
“Sorry, what?” she mimicked with all honesty. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening.”
“Day-dreaming are we, Evans?” said James with a smirk. “Slughorn teamed up you and me because Sirius gave away his masterplan of what he was going to do with the Amortentia we brew a little too loudly. Now he’s teamed with Peter instead.”
“How is that going to stop him from doing whatever he wants to do?” she asked back knowing the answer very well, at least now she felt herself regaining her composure.
“By all means,” began James and gave a dry chuckle whilst running his hand through his hair. “I think it would be very fitting if he’d join you instead. I mean, it only makes sense. Head Girl Evans and Sirius Black. Nothing could possibly go wrong.”
“You happen to be Head Boy, James.” she said and she now lost count of how many times she had to remind this boy that he was in fact Head Boy and that they weren’t very different from each other. He took his duties seriously of course, but sometimes, many times, he needed slight reminding.
“Will remember, -” he began but was abruptly cut off by Professor Slughorn who came and stood by them.
“Is there a problem Lily? James?” he asked eyeing the two head students and looking down at the empty cauldron in front of them. “Everyone’s already beginning.”
“Sir,” began James when realisation hit Lily. “We were just talking about how Sirius should be-”
“How WE should be beginning soon,” cut in Lily. “We were just talking about how we were to be going on about our potion.”
“Very well, very well,” said Professor Slughorn clearly satisfied. “It is of course of utmost importance to plan your potion before you begin concocting it.”
And with that, he was off to the front of the classroom proud and beaming at the struggling students.
“I thought you just said no,” said James drily.
“For something completely different,” she clarified. “Come on now, we’ll have to begin soon if we don’t want to be left behind.”
And so, they began. Lily dropped in the Ashwinder egg carefully as James carefully took out the rose thorns and dropped them in too. In went the peppermint oil and the moonstone and here they were completely oblivious to how much time had passed by as Lily carefully stirred the potion and James joked about the recent prank of the Marauders. They of course weren’t involved in anything to do with fishes and paints and colours and the ceilings of one particular classroom. Just when he was recalling how they had retrieved paint from a Something from Somewhere, Lily smelt it before she saw it.
There were spirals wafting slowly from the cauldron and James seemed to have noticed to for as he stopped talking and looked appreciatively at the cauldron. Lily stirred the potion once more and took in the feeling of the scent as it slowly wafted into her nostrils, right up her nose as it intoxicated her brain and spread into her blood and veins. Smiling slightly to herself, she looked up at James and stepped aside motioning for him to take a smell. She watched him as he grinned at her and said ‘Our potion Evans, I can’t believe it’s this easy!’ and took a long intake of the potion. She watched him as the smell overtook him, his body changing ever so slightly seeming to become divine as he took in the feeling of whatever, and maybe whomever he loved.
“If not for Lily Evans and James Potter,” came the loud voice of Professor Slughorn from the far-left end of the dungeons. “It is of course, Amortentia! Perfectly brewed, both of you. Thirty points to Gryffindor for your commendable work.”
“Thank you, Professor,” said James grinning widely at Professor Slughorn looking quite pleased with himself.
Lily gave Professor Slughorn a wide smile.
“Now, now,” he began as the entire class turned silent after their clapping and cheering and Lily was sure she heard some hooting and wolf-whistling, some that were directed at them somehow from where Sirius stood, something he’d be getting a nice telling off from her later on. “Can the two of you tell us what you smelled? You need not, of course if it’s personal. Miss Evans?”
“Sir,” she began stalling some time. Now you see, this was one of those moments when you are suddenly confronted with the truth and you’re not sure if you can trust your mouth to see if it will co-operate with the ill, pathetic and lying excuse of a brain you have. “I smell parchment, vapours of our classroom and,”
James. She used this time to clear her throat.
“Coffee.”
“Ah, lovely Miss Evans,” said Professor Slughorn beaming proudly. “Don’t we all love the smell of fresh coffee! Mister Potter?”
“Sir,” began James grinning broadly. Lily took this time to glance at Emmeline Vance’s cauldron that looked extremely interesting today, ah, the fine material and the fine black colour whilst of course, paying stern attention to what James was saying.
“Leather, the smell of soil after rain and,” here he paused for effect looking around at the anxious eyes and excited faces of everyone who were watching him. “Coffee.”
“Brilliant, Mr. Potter,” said Professor Slughorn. “I smell Coffee when I look into my Amortentia too. Now students, if you brew your potion correctly, you will be able to smell those things you obviously love and no Mr. Curran, I’m not going to lift the lid of my potion and nor will Miss Evans and Mister Potter.”
Lily took a seat back and hoped she wasn’t flushing bright red or anything of that sort. Her heart was now again, doing all sorts of spectacles inside her ribcage and she wouldn’t mind having it beat one last time like the fin of the particularly greyish fish she’d watched her father catch last summer and then stop.
“Coffee, eh?” said James making her jump out of her mid-day trance. “I reckon half of this class will end up smelling coffee in their Amortentia. Quite the smell, innit?”
“Yes,” she said putting her potions book into her bag slowly as ever. “Yes.”
“Now, Lily-flower,” began James and of all these seven years she’s known James Fleamont Potter, every time he began some sentence with the word ‘Lily-flower’, the end results weren’t all that nice for both of them. That is, a nice hex James’ way and a sleepless, complaining night for Lily and her roommates. “Wasn’t it only yesterday that you so politely were disinclined to acquiesce to Moony’s request to try drink some coffee?”
Right.
Right.
“I suppose,” he continued again and though Lily fiddled with the insides of her bag, she could feel him smirking. “You had also mentioned how its smell was ‘sickening’ and makes you ‘want to pluck your nose out’?”
Right.
Right.
“I mean,” James continued as though her silence was cue for ‘Go on’. “Coffee. It’s a euphemism isn’t it? For ‘the utterly handsome and good-looking man standing right next to me who also happens to be my fellow Head.”
Right.
Right.
This now again, was one of those moments when your brain wants to do something but your hands, your legs or like in the case of Lily Evans, the neck wasn’t very well under the control of it. Much to her disappointment, she felt her neck tear away from the bag to look straight at James Potter.
“Right of course,” he said smiling as he put his scales and books back into his bag. “Where handsome becomes beautiful and man becomes woman for me.”
Before she could come up with a retort or something cleverer to say, she was standing stupidly staring at the head of James Potter who was making his way out of the dungeons amidst the other students, hopping and whistling to himself. When exactly the bell rang, Lily wasn’t sure. But she knew one thing and she’d stay by it all long. Lily Evans, 7th Year student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Head Girl was perfectly normal and slightly in love. (And denial).
#jily#jily oneshot#jilytober#james potter#lily evans#jily fic#jily one shot#amortentia#potions#potionsclass#jily fluff#alstroemeriablack#suchitasenthilkumar#marlene#sirius
88 notes
·
View notes
Text
Twists and Turns of Fate
Ao3 | Word Count: 4k | Tarlos // Buddie
Happy belated birthday my moonlit angel @letitialewiss, you deserve the world, unfortunately that is something I cannot give, so the next best thing I can do is gift this fic to you instead 💖💖💖
Let it shine
'Til you feel it all around you
And I don't mind
If it's me you need to turn to
We'll get by
It's the heart that really matters in the end
Some say your fate is predetermined, others say that you create your own fate. And then there are some that theorise that there are multiple realities; Having been created by the many changes in one’s life where each choice you make, and the decisions made by the people around you change the very outcome of your life.
In this case, the fate of two couples’ rests with one meeting; one deal; one night.
It was at a first responder’s conference where the two pairs came together. Buck and Eddie were coming from Los Angeles to attend, the 118 having been gifted two tickets by the higher-ups, in hopes that they might learn something to bring back to the team (and maybe, just maybe, influence the 118 to be less of a headache for the department in future years)
TK and Carlos flew in from Austin, having missed a closer conference that was scheduled while they were both rostered on. TK had been to one in the past with his dad, back when they were in New York and he enjoyed making connections with other first responders. He had mentioned going to Carlos who liked the idea so much that he decided to tag along himself knowing that he had some time off at that time.
It’s at the conference recommended hotel that the two pairs briefly cross paths for the first time, Carlos and Eddie accidentally bumping shoulders as they pass in the lobby. It's not until later at the opening of the conference that the four properly meet for the first time, finding themselves seated together in the same row.
It’s Buck, however, who recognises Carlos and is the first to offers his hand in greeting, “Hi, I’m Buck and this is Eddie,” he indicates to Eddie beside him who reaches around him to offer his own hand.
Carlos accepts them both with a warm smile, “I’m Carlos.”
TK leans out from his seat with a wave, “and I’m TK. Nice to meet you.”
And that’s where it began.
Over the course of the day, the four of them listened to the speakers, taking on the pearls of wisdom being presented; Making inter-professional connections with the number of attendees from different walks of life, and getting to know their different perspectives and experiences.
Over lunch the two pairs came back together to each upon discovering that despite the new connections they made, none came close to how well they got along together, finding natural ease with each other as they got to know each other more and traded stories from their stations.
Carlos and Eddie gravitated together, both equally content to listen to and occasionally throw in their two cents into the animated conversations of TK and Buck who seemed to hit it off almost instantly, acting more like long lost friends who were catching up, rather than two people who had just met.
They both share an understanding but exasperated look upon learning how reckless and prone to disaster both TK and Buck were and eventually fell into their own conversations, lamenting that they’ll have early grey hairs just from knowing them.
In no time at all, the first day of the conference had concluded and it seemed that the four of them were more than willing, after having some downtime to freshen up, to meet up again and have dinner together at a nearby bar instead of the stuffy hotel restaurant.
The mood of the bar suited them well, not overly busy but having a quiet buzz of energy thrumming in the atmosphere. With stomachs grumbling it takes them no time at all to decide on the simple bar meal of burgers with a side of fries each.
Carlos and TK watch as Buck and Eddie wordlessly fall into an obviously well-practiced routine when their food arrives; Eddie opening his burger for Buck to take the pickles and Buck transferring a portion of his fries into Eddie’s basket.
It was amusing to them to see the LA pair acting like a couple, leaving no space between themselves as they brush shoulder and arms together but seeming oblivious to the glances stolen over the course of the evening that were clearly seen by the Austin pair on the opposite side of the booth.
They weren’t the only ones to observe couple-like behaviour, however, with Buck and Eddie witnessing the unspoken communication between the TK and Carlos, especially when Carlos went up a bought them all a round, not needing to ask TK his order, not to mention catching the numerous, practically intimate, looks the two shared.
It would seem almost comical to an outsider watching these two non-couple couples dancing around each other both wanting to ask the question that none of the men seemed to want to ask.
It was apparent to Buck and Eddie that there was something between Carlos and TK and the same could also be said about what TK and Carlos saw between Buck and Eddie but not wanting to voice their assumptions just yet recognising that they’ve only known each other for a day.
It’s not until Eddie and Carlos split off, heading to the pool table which had become free after their meal that they eventually broach the subject with their new friends, curiosity getting the better of them.
** ** ** **
Buck was watching Eddie bemusedly, knowing exactly how that game was going to go, fully aware of Eddie’s woeful skills at the game. TK could see the sparkle in his eye, a look one simply does not give their best friend. With this thought in mind, he leans across the table clearing his throat.
“So,” he draws out, “You and Eddie, are my keen eyes deceiving me, or am I seeing something going on there?”
Buck sputters on the mouthful of beer he was in the process of swallowing and turns to TK looking like a dear caught in headlights, “What? No of course not!” he exclaims in a hushed whisper, glancing over at the pool table to check that Eddie didn’t somehow overhear.
“But you want there to be,” coaxes TK, pursing his lips in amusement when he sees the scandalised look on Buck’s face and puts his hands up in mock surrender.
“Hey, no judgment here, I can appreciate a good looking guy when I see one too, even though I prefer the clean-shaven look myself.” He says has as his eyes slide over to the two at the pool table, focusing on Carlos.
“I’m not-- I mean, I don’t think he’s-- ugh,” Buck hides his face in his hand for a moment before dragging it down his face not seeing the point in refuting the claim, “Am I really being that obvious?”
“Like there’s a neon sign hanging over your head, not that Eddie’s noticed I don’t think.”
“Oh, thank god.” Buck sighs and rests his head on the table, the fear of his true feeling being known flowing out of him.
“Would it really be so bad?” asks TK softly, causing Buck to look up sharply realising how that might sound.
“It’s not that. It’s just- he’s got a kid, who I adore, and we work together, and I don’t even know if he’s…what if he doesn’t feel the same way? I don’t want to mess up the good thing we already have just because my heart decides to skip a beat every time he smiles at me.”
TK gives him a sympathetic look and reaches across to touch the back of Buck’s hand, “I get it, I do, but from what I can tell, even after only knowing you guys for a day, is that the feeling is mutual.”
The conversation dies down as Buck ruminates on what TK had said and glances towards the subject of his thoughts, reflexively smiling when Eddie catches his eye with a grin as he leans over the pool table to take his shot. He’s so focused on Eddie, that he almost misses the look that Carlos was giving to a distracted TK.
“And what about you and Carlos?” Buck pipes up, redirecting the conversation.
TK briefly flicks his eyes over to a now pool-focused Carlos before settling back on Buck, “What about us?”
“Oh, come on, I’ve seen the way you two keep looking at each other.”
TK shrugs, avoiding Buck’s gaze as he takes a sip of his soda, “I don’t know, we’ve had our moments but that’s all they were – moments.”
Buck couldn’t believe what he was hearing. And TK was calling him and Eddie oblivious to each other’s affections towards each other when he himself was entirely missing the fact that the same could be said about him and Carlos.
“Are you sure about that?” he presses, “Because from the way you two keep looking at each other tells me that you both clearly want the same thing.”
“I…It’s complicated.”
“You say that but there’s no mistaking the chemistry between the two of you, I don’t see why you’re holding back.”
“I could say the same thing about you with Eddie.” Challenges TK, turning the conversation back on its head with a quirk of his eyebrow and sees Buck’s resolution crumbling before continuing.
“Tell you what, let’s make a deal. I stop dancing around Carlos and make a true effort if you do the same with Eddie.”
Buck chews the inside of his lip and glances back over at the two men across the room before looking back at TK, a look of determination clear on his face, “Okay, deal.”
“If this blows up in my face, I blame you.” Adds Buck, earning himself a laugh from TK who nods, before the two of them finish their drinks and heads over to join the other two.
** ** ** ** ** **
Unbeknownst to the two men at the booth, a similar conversation occurred across the room at the same time as theirs with Eddie and Carlos.
“So, you two.” Carlos slightly indicates his head towards the tall blonde as he takes the first shot of the game. “Anything going on there?”
Eddie busies himself chalking up the tip of his cue stick, “Me and Buck? No, we’re just good friends, partners at work.”
Carlos watches as Eddie surveys the table, trying to find himself an easy shot, eventually settling on a clear one towards a corner pocket and catches him sharing a smile with Buck across the room. “That’s honestly not the answer I was expecting.”
Eddie jerks his head up at that, hitting the cue ball distractedly and missing his intended target, “What’s that supposed to mean? Buck’s not- I mean I don’t think Buck is-”
“Eddie, I’ve caught you staring at his ass more than once today.” Seeing Eddie’s eyes widen, Carlos shrugs and puts his hand up placatingly, “Hey, I get it. There’s no mistaking a good looking butt especially in jeans like Buck is wearing.”
Carlos continues, “All I’m saying is that the way you two are around each other, makes me think that there’s something between you two and don’t believe it’s just friendship.”
“I could say the same thing about you and TK,” Eddie responds relaxing into the conversation as he lets his eyes flit between Carlos and TK, echoing the tail end of Buck and TK’s conversation.
“You’re deflecting.”
“So are you.”
Carlos pauses as he presses his lips together, making quick work of the table, clearing most of his quarry in one fell swoop, and then resumes the conversation.
“Are you sure that he’s not-”
“Into guys?” Asks Eddie, as he finally gets the chance to take another shot, feeling wholly inadequate at the game after seeing Carlos make such quick work of the solid colours. He looks up after sinking the first ball of the stripes, catching Carlos’s nod.
“No,” he answers after missing the next shot and sinking the cue ball into a pocket instead, “We’ve never actually talked about it.”
Carlos dips his hand into the mesh bag of the pool table pocket and pulls out the white ball and walks closely behind Eddie.
“So, if that’s the case, who’s to say that he doesn’t feel the same way if you’ve never actually talked about it.” He says simply as he walks past and lines up easily with the 8-ball, cracking it direction of the far corner pocket, sinking it, and ending the game.
Eddie knows Carlos was right. And the only thing that was really stopping him from finding out was fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of change; Fear that if he confesses his feelings that things would become awkward between him and Buck if he doesn’t feel the same way. Carlos had planted the seed, bringing to his attention the fact that maybe it wasn’t as one-sided as he thought.
Carlos himself was lost in his own thoughts. Eddie brought up the one thing that had been playing on his mind for months, knowing exactly what he was talking about. He and TK have had so many great moments together, but he still has no idea where he stands with the firefighter, not for the lack of trying mind you. It's why he eventually decided to let TK come to him when he was ready, choosing to make peace with TK’s indecision but not letting it stop them from at the very least being friends.
Their both distracted from their thoughts when the subjects of their affections took the game ending as their cue to come and join them. TK surprisingly wrapped his hand around Carlos’ waist and propped his head on his shoulder, whispering into his ear while Buck bumped shoulders with Eddie, giving him a sympathetic look as he notes how badly Eddie lost the game.
It’s from here that the four take notice of the late hour and decide to head back to their prospective rooms, knowing the conference would be starting relatively early in order to maximise the full day. They part ways at the elevator, with a promise to meet for breakfast in the morning.
** ** ** ** ** **
Buck couldn’t help but fidget once Carlos and TK, departed the elevator a floor before their own, with TK giving him a wink over his shoulder as the mirrored doors closed. Their previous talk had not left his mind, and now more than ever he wanted to take that risk and bear his soul, consequence be damned.
As soon as they enter the room he busies himself, unsure of how to broach the subject without blurting out his feelings
“TK and I were talking about some… stuff, and it made me realise that I never actually told you that I’m bisexual, have I?” He ends up asking with his back to Eddie as he shuts the curtains.
No, I don’t think you have,” says Eddie carefully, hope blossoming in his chest with this revelation, knowing now that Carlos might have be onto something, “is there a reason why you’re telling me now?”
Buck scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, “I uhm well it’s just that I-” he starts to say stumbling over his words before turning around and ends up doing the exact thing he didn’t want to do after seeing Eddie looking stunning, bathed in the warm glow of the bedside lamps.
“-I think I’m falling in love with you.” He blurts out and then starts rambling now that he’d opened those floodgates, “I never meant for this to happen and I understand I you don’t feel the same way but after-”
He doesn’t get a chance to say much more than that before Eddie presses a finger to his lips having taken a few swift steps until he was chest to chest with Buck, effectively silencing whatever he was about to say next.
Heart racing, Eddie lets his hand fall away as he leans in close until they were almost nose to nose, his eyes searching Buck’s, not really sure what he was trying to find. There was a hesitation between them before eventually, Buck makes a move, slowly closing the space between their lips.
With his heart fluttering in his chest, he pauses, hovering his lips a hair’s breadth from Eddie’s, giving him the chance to back out if he wanted to. The momentary pause, however, was too long for Eddie, and he tenderly joins their lips together, unable to bear the anticipation.
Time froze for them at that moment as they fell into the kiss. Eddie entangling his fingers into Buck’s hair and Buck cupping the back of Eddie’s neck. They went slowly and hesitatingly, letting the kiss fill them with warmth as they took their time exploring each other.
It doesn’t take long for passion to take over, deepening their kiss as the pent up feelings they had each been suppressing for so long taking over as they lose themselves within it, neither wanting to come up for air.
Their desire drives them to the edge of one of the beds and Buck slowly lowers himself back onto it when it touches the back of his legs, he pulls Eddie with him, unwilling to disconnect from the man just yet. Eddie falls easily with him bracketing his legs beside Buck’s as he guides the two of them down until Buck was lying on the plush covers.
Eventually, Eddie breaks off the kiss with a gasp, no longer able to ignore his need for oxygen. He braces his forearms beside Buck’s head while he keeps his forehead pressed to Buck’s as their chest both heaved against each other, catching their breath and both looking at each other in a mix of awe and disbelief.
“Wow,” breathes out Buck once his breath had slowed, “So, you’re…?”
Eddie huffs a laugh, endeared by Buck’s hesitation as if they weren’t just making out like a couple of teenagers a second ago, “Yes Buck, if it wasn’t already clear, I like guys too.”
Buck grins easily up at him, “I’m just making sure I didn’t put you under a spell or something.”
“You’re insufferable,” Eddie responds, recapturing Buck’s lips in his own sending them both spiraling again before Buck puts a hand against Eddie’s chest and gently forces them apart chasing Eddie’s lips as the man sits back, confusion painted across his face.
“As much as I am enjoying this and would very much like to continue,” Buck gasps, sitting up to rest back on his hands, “I think we should take things slow.”
Eddie’s face clears in understanding before softening his gaze as he takes Buck’s face in his hands and lightly touches his lips to Buck’s before pulling away looking at Buck fondly, “Okay,” he agrees, “I like the sound of that.”
** ** ** ** ** **
Carlos and TK had an interesting night themselves. The conversations the two had with both Eddie and Buck gave them the shove that they needed and after they split off from the LA pair, the two had let go of their inhibitions.
They got reacquainted, much like they did when they first got together, except the difference being that this time TK stayed. As their racing hearts settled TK found himself pillowing his head of Carlos’ chest listening to his heartbeat.
It was there that he realised what he’d been missing. Being there, being properly close to Carlos since they met, he discovered that it felt like coming home. He lamented all the time he’s wasted, accepting the fact that he’d been dancing around Carlos for far too long and resolves to make good on what he told him at the bar.
He was going to try. Try a be a boyfriend that Carlos deserved.
So, they talked. They ended up talking for hours, learning more about each other than they had in all the times they’d come together previously and promised to continue to do so when they went back to Austin.
Carlos felt his heart swell at the prospect. TK was finally being completely open with him, and genuinely wanting to make an effort. He even went so far as to ask him if he was willing, even after all these months, to actually, properly call each other boyfriends to which he wholeheartedly agreed.
Carlos let out a contented sigh that night when the conversation inevitably lulled, the pull of sleep became too much. He was still awake when TK started quietly snoring, it then that he wrapped his arm around TK and pulled him in closer, finding himself at peace.
That’s how they found themselves the next morning, waking up slowly, comfortably back in each other’s arms. It isn’t until TK reaches over to check the time, does he remember that they never set themselves an alarm and discovers that they had barely any time to get ready if they didn’t want to completely miss breakfast.
They made it with very little time to spare, finding Buck and Eddie happily sipping at their coffees as they wave the two over.
“We saved you some food before it all disappeared,” chirps Eddie, shoving the two full plates to the empty spaces in front of the seats opposite them causing the two to look at him gratefully after briefly seeing the lack of options still left when they walked in.
“So, what took you guys so long, we have to head to the conference in,” Buck looks down at his watch, “less than twenty minutes.”
Carlos glances at TK as they took a seat, “we got distracted last night and forgot to set an alarm.”
Buck and Eddie both purse their lips with a silent look passing between them before Buck catches TK’s eye, subtly quirking his eyebrow to which TK gives his an almost imperceptible nod in confirmation of their deal the previous night.
The four of them made small talk about what they thought would be talked about throughout the day as the Austin couple eat their food in a hurry. Before too long they were ready and rushed to the conference breathing a sigh of relief when they make it in time.
As they made their way across the room, Carlos couldn’t help but notice the change in the energy between the LA pair and as they trail behind the two he looks to TK who was wearing the same questioning look.
The two were being almost blatantly affectionate with each other, making TK and Carlos curious about what happened in their room that night. It’s not until later in the day that they catch a few secret moments raising their suspicions once again before later confirming them when they see the two holding hands.
It was cute to see the two no longer being oblivious dorks around each other and being adorable dorks instead. As much as TK and Carlos wouldn’t believe it themselves, Buck and Eddie could say the same thing about them, noticing the same change in their energy and each couple couldn’t be happier for their new friends.
Before they knew it the day was over, signaling the separation of the two couples having to depart, heading back to their respective cities. They exchanged numbers, offering a place to stay should either couple come to visit and promising to keep in touch before heading their separate ways.
And they did, every so often they’d catch a call from one another, updating each other on the coming’s and going’s in their lives. It seemed even after the stories they’d heard at the conference, Buck and TK were as accident-prone as ever, causing their boyfriends much undue stress. But they continued as couples, relationships stronger than ever exactly how fate intended.
Oh, these twists and turns of fate
Time falls away
But these small hours
These little wonders
Still remain
#jess writes#my fic#911 fox#911 lone star#911 fic#911 lone star fic#9-1-1 x 9-1-1 lone star#buddie fic#tarlos fic#evan buckley#eddie diaz#carlos reyes#tk strand#userkourt#userkimmy
27 notes
·
View notes
Text
Liminal
Fandom: Thunderbirds
Rating: Gen
Genre: Friendship
Characters: Parker, Scott
Another #fluffember offering, although perhaps a different type of fluff to yesterday’s. ‘Rose’ only wanted to lend itself to angst, so it took a little bit of strong-arming and a pov shift to move away from that. I call this ‘melancholy fluff’.
After the rain comes the sun, but there’s a special moment in between.
People complained about the English weather plenty – “too grey”, “too wet”, “too boring”, “too cold”, the list went on – but in Parker’s mind, there was little that beat the fresh taste of rain just passed. In the distance, a rainbow flirted with storm-grey clouds, an indication that just because it had stopped here, didn’t mean it had stopped everywhere. Likewise, somewhere the sun was poking her head out, not yet visible from the estate but surely not far off.
It was quiet, peaceful – even that blasted dog was hiding from the recent weather with Parker’s ward, deep inside the manor – and he closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the scent of freshly-fallen rain on grass. Born and raised a city lad, the majority of his life surrounded by the concrete jungle of London or prison, even in his golden years it was a simple thing that never failed to fill him with awe.
His skin prickled, a sixth sense honed from a, uh, misspent youth, and slowly, cautiously, he let his eyelids crack open again, searching for the interruption. Petty thieves tried their luck with the Creighton-Ward Estate all the time, and with his Ladyship entertaining some very important guests, he was determined not to let some young upstarts ruin their day.
It wasn’t a young upstart. Well, he supposed it was, but not an unwelcome one, and most of the time not really an upstart anymore. The years had not been particularly kind to the youngster, and unlike Parker’s own youth, it wasn’t even karma knocking.
But musings aside, what was one of their very important guests doing wandering around the garden, rather than staying in the nice, warm manor and not interrupting Parker’s appreciation of the English weather?
Shoulders were slumped, gelled-back hair flattened and coat wet. Had he been out during the rain? Oh, Mrs Tracy would not be pleased when she realised one of her grandsons was trying to make himself sick. Not that Parker would tattle, but he wouldn’t need to. She, at least, was inside the manor, warm and dry.
The young man hadn’t noticed him yet, so he stayed where he was for the moment, observing. Some of the Tracy boys were simple enough to handle, the same approach reliable every time, but this one required a special touch.
Those slumped shoulders, the way he’d clearly slipped out into the rain with little care or thought for the later consequences… it was one of those days. The heavy, heavy days where the world weighed just a little too much, the losses too dear, too fresh even after all these years. The young man wanted solitude, an escape from self-inflicted responsibility. Parker, well in his golden years and with too many memories of young men spiralling away entirely with nothing to ground them, knew that solitude was not the answer.
Just… a change of scenery. For a while. And a supporting shoulder.
“Nothing like rain just gone,” he said, stepping forwards to draw attention to himself. Never sneak up on former military. “Wouldn’t you agree, Master Scott?”
Blue eyes flicked to him, widening in surprise for a moment before settling into something more melancholy again. The young man forced a small smile, painfully thin and worn, looking around him. “It’s not too bad,” he agreed. Parker chuckled dryly and finished his journey to his side.
“Not too bad, ‘e says.” He shook his head. “You young lads.” The young lad in question managed another quirk of his lips. “’as ‘er Ladyship shown you ‘er new garden yet?” Strictly speaking, it wasn’t finished and she wasn’t intending on showing anyone until it was, but Parker didn’t think she’d mind too much.
Scott shook his head, and Parker reached up to clasp his shoulder, guiding him down the path. Even through his gloves, he could feel the dampness of the coat, but he didn’t comment. Not yet. The fact that Scott didn’t react, even just to shake him off, spoke volumes.
The new garden was small, by Creighton-Ward standards. Surrounded by high walls, some ten feet at least, and entered by an ornate wrought-iron gate, it was perfectly secluded from the rest of the estate. As they passed through the arched gateway, Parker let his hand drop from the young man’s shoulder.
“’ave a walk-about,” he invited. Scott glanced at him, eyes clouding with confusion, and Parker shrugged, gesturing at the carved wooden seat tucked into an alcove in the wall. “These h’old bones don’t move like they used to, Master Scott.”
“You’re not that old,” Scott retorted, but he took the invitation for what it was and wandered down the central gravel path. He didn’t stop to admire the flowers, but Parker hadn’t expected him to. If he’d wanted someone to do that, he’d have invited Mrs Tracy, or Virgil. Scott just needed to move around for a while, walk off whatever had decided to weigh on him today, away from the ever-observant eyes of younger brothers.
Surrounded by high walls, and with said brothers all unaware of the garden’s existence, there was no witness save Parker, and Parker had long learnt to become invisible. He sat on the seat, feeling the chill of the damp soaking through his trousers with no complaint, and waited.
The sun’s rays had just broken through the lingering clouds, turning the drops of water clinging to petals and leaves into shining pearls, when a warm body settled onto the bench beside him. Parker said nothing, continuing to look forwards at the sparkling walled garden until Scott let out a sigh that sounded far more upbeat than his previous attitude.
“Thanks, Parker,” he said. Parker glanced at him; shoulders were no longer slumped forwards, but loosely relaxed, and what had been melancholy eyes were brighter again, their determined shine renewed.
“My pleasure, Mr Scott.” Scott frowned at him, but it was playful, not offended. After a moment, he smiled again, and Parker’s own face relaxed into something similar. “h’Are you ready to go inside?”
“I am.” No hesitation; the troubled young man from earlier had gone, leaving the confident one in his stead. Confidence always looked better on him.
“h’I think h’it would be prudent to take the servants’ door, Master Scott,” he offered, making his way to his feet and scowling as his back creaked. Golden age or not, he wasn’t that old! “h’Otherwise your Gran might see you before you dry h’off.”
Scott winced at the reminder of his grandmother’s presence and inevitable disappointment, but then laughed. “If that’s what you suggest,” he agreed. “Lead on, Parker.”
They didn’t escape Sally Tracy’s eagle eyes, but at least Scott was laughing again during their attempts, and refused to wilt under the eventual scolding. Parker met the woman’s eyes once her eldest grandson was sent to dry off properly and find some fresh clothes, and saw the same relief in them. The world demanded too much from him, but it hadn’t broken him.
If it took some English weather and a walled garden to hold him together, then that was what Parker would provide, as many times as it took. The young man wasn’t going to break under the grey ninja’s watch.
#fluffember#thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds are go fanfiction#tsari writes fanfiction#aloysius parker#scott tracy#grandma tracy#thunderfluff
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
In The Darkness Chapter 79 - Missing
Noragami x Harry Potter AU
Words: 1,224
Summary: Yato wonders what has become of his friends and family.
Also available on Yatorihell AO3
The Sword of Gryffindor glittered, surrounded by piles of jewels and coins and treasures.
A golden goblet engraved with a badger lay on its side, ropes of pearls spilling from it.
There was a distinct sound of grating, like a heavy door being dragged over stone, before a reverberating slam shut him in darkness.
~
Yato woke in a bleary haze. His shoddy little tent had barely survived the night's snowfall, the canopy bowed with snow that threatened to collapse the entire structure and bury him alive. The scratchy polystyrene of the sleeping bag had tangled his legs and by the time he fought his way free he felt the cold chill that had seeped around his cocoon. The gas lamp sat abandoned, out of fuel for a few days now, and Yato groaned in protest as he stood up. He’d need to find the nearest village if he didn’t want to freeze to death tonight.
The horcrux looked at him dully, nearly invisible in the darkness of the tent as he picked it up and put it around his neck. He had tried every offensive spell he could think of trying to destroy it. Confringo, Expulso, Bombarda Maxima, Astrapicus; fire, lightning, and blasting spells didn’t even make a dent in the smooth surface, pinging the locket through the snow to Yato’s increasing agitation.
Hiyori told him that only Basilisk venom could destroy it, but there had to be another way. There had to.
Yato cursed lightly as he pulled on another pair of thin socks, his tracksuit, and the dirty, sorry excuse his white scarf had become. His coat was beginning to tear in the pockets and his brown boots were still wet from yesterday’s journey, but the need for warmth forced them onto his feet.
He left Hiyori and Yukine weeks ago, apparating to spots of beauty he’d heard of. He didn’t have Hiyori’s knowledge of the Muggle world, but he knew enough to survive.
The nearest village he apparated to was nondescript, empty in the early morning cloudy weather. Here the roads were gritted and the snow had turned to slush that seeped into his worn boots, but there were the supplies he’d need to see in the spring.
The only shop had just opened, and the bell jingled overhead as he entered. The clerk, unloading the day's magazines and newspapers, gave him a wary look but Yato shuffled to the back of the shop, eyes averted. He couldn’t be too sure who was magical or not, and he didn’t fancy drawing attention to himself by acting suspiciously. Without the radio – which he’d left with Hiyori and Yukine – he had no idea what was going on in the outer world.
Yato stared at the cans lining the back wall and felt his thoughts begin to drift. He thought of Hiyori or Yukine as he did every day; of their safety, of their reaction to wake and find him gone. He wondered where they were, or where they would’ve gone if he could finally come back. Were they looking for him? Had they risked going back to Grimmauld Place to call Kofuku? Had they been snatched…?
Yato felt the gentle hum of the horcrux and realised it was twisting his thoughts, feeding off his negative energy. He nudged it away from his skin through his coat and dumped his shopping basket on the counter.
The clerk said nothing but eyed him warily. If she was surprised to see him pull out a crumpled note to pay for the tins of food and fuel, she didn’t show it. She handed him back a few coins in his gloved hand and Yato sighed inwardly. He’d forgotten about Muggle money until he first went to get supplies, and whilst he wasn’t proud of it, the only way to survive was to trick shopkeepers into thinking that he had paid.
The doorbell jingled as he stepped back into the early morning. The first houses were stirring, the lights lit and kids leaving to catch their bus to school. Yato ducked his head as he passed a man in a neat black coat, feeling his eyes linger on him like he’d detected a bad smell. Perhaps he had; it had been a while since he’d had a proper shower, so he could only imagine that he looked like a tramp.
The walk out of the village was quiet and muffled by last night's snow, growing thicker the further he trudged the lonely road. His breath came in puffs of clouds as he slung himself over the nearest wooden stile into a field and took shelter behind the hedgerow.
The thoughts he’d shucked away crawled back into his head slowly. Where would Hiyori and Yukine be now? What had become of Kofuku and the rest of the Order? Had Grimmauld Place been discovered, and was Ebisu ok?
Yato thought back to the big empty house and its lone occupant. He didn’t even know if Buckbeak and Coo Phone had reached the Burrow. The guilt twisted in his gut, yet it had abated over time with each painful thought.
Yato shook his head, remembering the horcrux and its sadistic appetite, and drew his wand. A second later the field was empty, and Yato was gone.
~
Hiyori absentmindedly pulled at a loose thread on the blanket, staring into the dark canopy. She hadn’t slept in her own bed since Yato left, not that she had for months anyway. In a way, it was comforting to smell him on the sheets, but it was still a sore reminder that he was gone.
He abandoned them when they promised to stay together.
She and Yukine reluctantly moved camp after a few days, hoping Yato would see sense and come back. When he didn’t, they packed up and left, unsure of where to go or what to do. They couldn’t go back to Grimmauld Place after Kofuku’s warning, and they couldn’t go back to the Burrow in case it was being watched. It was made clear that any leverage the Sorcerer could use against Yato would be seized, and the best leverage they could get would be his friends.
Instead, they stayed in the wilderness, leaving tattered markers made from Hiyori’s pink scarf so that if – by chance or fate – Yato found them, he would know they were near.
Yukine snorted from across the room and Hiyori sighed. Sleep didn’t come as easy to her, and when it did, it taunted her with nightmares of snakes and blood and Yato, lost, captured, or dead. On these nights there was no one to comfort her and lure her back into sleep, to remind her that he was safe, and she hated him for it.
At the very least there were no reports of his capture, by the Ministry of Magic or Kazuma, whose attempts at keeping their spirits high were failing as he referred to the three constantly as if they were still together.
She rubbed her thumb along Sakura’s wand beneath the blanket. The fact he’d left it for her was another stab in the heart. He planned this. He knew that he was leaving, so he gave her the most important thing he owned to protect her. He danced with her and told her they would go home…
And then her home left.
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
Laundry Duty
A short piece of Virgil-centric fluff for @fictivekaleidoscope to help her feel better after her op. I find Virg a challenge to write, so this took longer than the 10 minutes I originally promised XD.
Please excuse me while I scamper back to Gordon’s corner with my tail between my legs. Writing anything other than him is a bit like learning a foreign language for me.
Genre: Humour & fluff.
Characters: Virgil, Scott & John, with young Gordon and Alan in the background.
Summary: Virgil is the domestic househusband we all fantasise about, but with a dark twist...XD.
-x-
Virgil was not amused.
At all.
As if a solid week of back-to-back rescues garnished with a healthy amount of sleep deprivation hadn’t been enough, the massive pile of dirty laundry that was taking up two thirds of the floor was yet another nail in his green coffin.
Thunderbird Two’s pilot was flabbergasted at Scott and John’s laziness. Sure, he was guilty of not pulling as much weight as he usually did, but he was on his first day off in two weeks. Scott was into his fourth day of not being deployed and John had left EOS in charge of Five while he was planetside. Last time Virgil had checked, both brothers were perfectly healthy and as a result, more than capable of laundering their own clothes.
Scott had shrugged when Virgil had confronted him on the issue, not understanding why he couldn’t chuck all his dirty clothes into a pile and offload them onto Grandma. When John had suggested that he might do the same thing, Virgil had capitulated and very grudgingly offered to toss their clothes into the washer with his own. The embarrassment of one of his brothers getting deployed in an unwashed uniform for the entire world to see (and smell) would be enough to send him to an early grave.
Except, what had seemed like a good compromise an hour ago didn’t seem quite so good when it became apparent just how many items needed washing. There were the regular and spare iR suits, plus six days and five bodies worth of jeans, shirts, socks, pyjamas, t-shirts, swimwear…
Virgil scowled and resisted the urge to stamp on a particularly filthy looking shirt of Gordons. He was no househusband, but even he could tell that it would take at least six, possibly seven loads to get through this infernal pile. And considering each cycle took an hour and fifteen minutes to run, plus the fact that he’d probably have to pre-soak all of Gordon’s contaminated items, he was looking at between seven and ten hours of laundry on what was supposed to be his day off.
No way. Absolutely no way.
Anger completely overtaking logical thinking, Virgil grabbed an armful of clothes (instantly wishing he’d pegged his nose beforehand) and dumped them haphazardly into the nearest washer. Not pausing to consider material, colour or degree of dirtiness, he shoved everything in together. When the first tub was stuffed to capacity, he rummaged through the remainder of the pile and pulled out his own clothes before depositing them in the second washer. Heaven forbid he throw all his good shirts in with Gordon’s bright green swim trunks.
John’s white polo shirt was a different story.
Satisfied that the first washer was suitably stuffed (probably to the point where none of the clothes would actually get cleaned), Virgil double checked to make sure none of his own items were mingling with Gordon’s trunks and Scott’s socks. After finishing his inspection, he opened one of the cabinets and pondered over the choice of detergents.
Virgil quickly realised why laundry duty was the least favoured chore amongst his brothers – there must have been at least ten different types of detergent staring back at him. Scented dryer sheets, stuff for sensitive skin, perfume pearls, organic this and that, et cetera, et cetera…
Deciding to indulge in some petty revenge, Virgil selected the most ostentatious, sickeningly feminine detergent he could see; a bright pink bottle with a picture of a cloud on the front labelled ‘Sunset Marshmallow’. He popped the cap, inhaled deeply and nearly gagged at the cloying scent that assaulted his nose. It smelt like something a unicorn had vomited up.
Thunderbird Two’s pilot upended the bottle and tipped most of the contents into the washer containing his brother’s clothes. As the cherry on top, he also dumped in an entire container of scented pearls in the fragrance ‘Dusky Rose’, before slamming the lid shut and hitting the start button with an air of flourish. His mood rose considerably at the thought of his lazy ass brothers stinking like a garden.
Virgil’s own clothes were treated to a modest amount of regular lemon scented detergent and no fragrance pearls. Heaven forbid that he be caught smelling like a pre-teen girl.
Leaving both washers happily humming away, Virgil breezed out the door and allowed himself a small snicker of amusement.
‘Lazy suckers.’
-x-
Virgil didn’t know why, but somehow all his revenge attempts always ended up boomeranging back to bite him on the ass.
After his brother’s hideously perfumed clothes had finished their wash cycle and been tossed in the dryer with some more scented pearls for an extra dose of revenge, Scott and John had arrived to sort through and collect what belonged to them. Virgil, who had been fishing his own freshly scented (but not too freshly scented) laundry out of the second dryer had noticed some raised eyebrows and grimacing faces as the combined scents of Sunset Marshmallow and Dusky Rose hit both Scott and John square in the face (and nose).
All had seemed reasonably well up until that point. Scott and John had quickly caught wind of Virgil’s revenge act, but were both smart enough to realise that they had nothing to throw back at him. They had left their dirty laundry at his mercy, and now they (and John’s green polo shirt) were paying the price.
Virgil had insisted that they all eat lunch together before commencing their afternoon chores. Not willing to pass up the opportunity of free food, his brothers had agreed and were now sat around the kitchen island. Gordon was busy doodling on the sofa with a sandwich in his lap and Alan was taking a nap in Scott’s room.
What started as a fairly civilised family gathering began to disintegrate when John started to sniff and rub at his nose. Several minutes later, a light rash broke out on his neck and along his forearms. Several more minutes later, he was folded in half as a series of violent sneezes shook his frame.
“What – ACHOO– was – AH– in that – AH– stuff you put – AH– in our laundry? ACHOO!”
Virgil shrugged and resumed eating, “Don’t know. Price you pay for being lazy though.”
John wiped a tear from his eye as another sneeze took hold, “ACHOOOO!”
Scott grimaced as John directed a particularly powerful sneeze over his sandwich, “Argh, John! That’s disgusting! Cover your nose for god’s sake!”
“Virg,” John wheezed, doubling over into a flurry of slightly smaller, but no less violent sneezes, “Help me! ACHOO! Please! I – AH– can’t – ACHOO– stop! ACHOO!”
Virgil sighed and stood up from the table. He disappeared into John’s room and ferreted around in his brother’s ensuite before locating some foil wrapped tablets. Upon returning to the kitchen, he was mildly shocked to see the redhead tearing his shirt off and throwing it to the floor.
Virgil didn’t say anything, opting instead to hand John his tablets with a fresh glass of water. The medication disappeared down the middle brother’s throat in the blink of an eye, quickly followed by a large glug of water.
“How many of these do I have left?” John croaked, motioning to the wrapper in his hand before succumbing to another sneeze.
“That’s the last packet I could see,” Virgil replied, retaking his seat at the table, “Do you have some spares?”
John groaned and shook his head, “I’ll need to take – ACHOO– some more in about an hour – ACHOO– to get rid of the worst of it – ACHOO!”
Virgil sighed and dropped his head into waiting hands. He’d have to pick John up a fresh batch of antihistamines before the middle brother gave himself a nosebleed. The engineer kicked himself mentally, not out of guilt, but out of disappointment at his own stupidity. It was a well-known family fact that John was allergic to just about every damn thing on the planet. Peanuts, chamomile, celery, most types of pollen, kiwis, cinnamon and juniper to name a few. He’d even been allergic to the formula Alan had been given as a baby. Virgil had found that particular incident hilarious, but had retracted his humour after being informed that the redhead was honourably discharged from babysitting duty due being literally allergic to Alan.
‘Bad call, Virgil. You should have just shrunk all his clothes instead.’
Depositing his plate by the sink, Virgil picked up his phone and made for the hanger stairwell, “I’ll be half an hour, Scott. The closest mainland pharmacy is right on the Australian coast.”
Gordon hastily crammed the rest of his sandwich into his mouth before jumping up from the sofa and sprinting over, “Virg! Can I come with you? Please? I promise I’ll behave!”
Virgil didn’t have the energy to protest, “Fine, but don’t you dare wander where I can’t see you.”
Crumbs sprayed out of the little blonde’s mouth as he bounced up and down excitedly, “I promise! Let’s go!”
Scott snorted as Gordon rocketed out the door.
“Only half an hour, you say?”
In the background, John let out an exotic profanity as blood started to stream from his nose.
Virgil set his jaw.
“Half an hour.”
Revenge. Boomerang. Ass. Him.
#thunderbirds#thunderbirds 2015#thunderbirds fanfiction#thunderbirds tag#thunderbirds are go#gordon tracy#virgil tracy#scott tracy#john tracy#alan tracy#grandma tracy
47 notes
·
View notes
Text
STORMY WEATHER
Pairing: Alex Høgh Andersen x Reader
A/N: Hey guuuuuys!! This is my first time ever writing a scenario (that’s why it probably is terrible), so I’m sorry for my bad writing and grammar, english is not my first language, so again, I’m sorry. I’ve been reading scenarios since I was 15 years old and now I’m 23. Anyways I hope you read it and you guys like it. If you liked it then let me know and also you can add me and let’s be friends! Again, thank you so much
It was a rainy autumn day in Dublin and I was working in my best friend’s mother’s café. Despite of the bad weather, the café was full as usual (maybe because the colder it is the more appealing is a cup of coffee or a hot chocolate duh!).
It was 7:30pm and the costumers started to go home because it was getting dark already. I had to withdraw the account so I had to close the coffee shop tonight. There was nobody left and only the cars on the street and the sound of the dishwasher were heard.
I was about to be done cleaning the tables near the window when suddenly I see a man standing outside under the rain. He was tall and had broaded shoulders. I figured he was waiting for someone (or so I thought). The man was soaking wet, so I thought to invite him in. I did not want him to catch a cold because he was soaked in the rain and I would feel bad for not letting him in. After 30 seconds debating whether to talk to him or not, I finally dared to speak to him.
“Sorry, you can come in and wait whoever you are waiting for.”
The man turned around and I was left speechless. I’ve never seen a man as handsome as him, like never in my entire life. Even though it was a bit dark and he was soaked, I could see he had the the bluest eyes I’ve ever set my eyes on. He had beautiful long dark hair and had beautiful, fleshy pink lips (oh those beautiful lips).
He stared at me and then smiled, how can someone have such a wonderful smile? I was in a daze until I realised that I was probably looking a bit like a fool and regained my composure.
"I didn’t mean to bother you, I see it's time to close and I wouldn’t want you to delay for someone you haven’t met before" he said a little embarrassed.
"There’s no problem, I still have another hour here and a little company is never wrong" I said with a shy smile on my face.
He stared at me and as if hesitating a little he decided to listen to me and came in the café. He sat down at the nearest table he had and I went back to my chores. I saw the boy was shivering a bit so I turned on the heat, turned on the radio and started to prepare a hot chocolate for him to warm. Once I was done I neared him.
"Here, there's nothing better than hot chocolate to relax and warm up." I smiled at him.
I was going to go back to the bar to clean up what was left but suddenly, something kept me from taking a single step. The boy had just taken me by the hand.
"As you said before, it never hurts a little company" he smiled, showing those perfect white pearl teeth.
I felt my cheeks burn, I nodded and took a seat in front of him.
"What’s your name?"
“I am (YN). And you?“
“I like your name! I am Alex.“
“Hahaha thank you. Ermmm... I know it's not my business to ask you this, but what were you doing out there at this time?" (Contemplating the beautiful light of the moon in the rain, what are you doing asking something so obvious? *facepalm*).“
"Oh, don’t worry! I was waiting for my friend Marco, he had to pick me up for dinner with some friends, but he has forgotten about me, as always" he said with a laugh. "How old are you? Forgive me for being so direct" he said a little distressed.
"Hahaha it’s alright, I am 23 years old."
"Oh really, I'm 26!" He said smiling.
Suddenly a black car stopped in front of the café and a few seconds later, Alex received a text message from his friend.
"Marco has already arrived, I must leave before he gets impatient." He smiled.
"Yes, you'd better go now. I'm glad my chocolate has helped you recover a little. It's been a pleasure to meet you Alex, enjoy dinner!" "I'm glad that fool didn’t pick me up earlier. Well, I’ll see you soon!" He winked at me and left.
I looked at him smiling and when he came out, I closed the door. Before Alex got into the car, he turned around and said goodbye again, this time with his hand. I walked to the table where we were sitting and saw a note. How could he write it without me noticing? The note read:
“(YN), thank you for the hot chocolate and the company, it has helped me a lot to recover.”
At the end of the note, what appeared to be a phone number. I stared at it and thought, "It seems to me that it has not been such a bad idea to close the coffee shop late at night after all."
And with a smile on my face, I finished closing the café and went home, wanting to go back to work the next day.
#alex hogh andersen imagine#alex hogh andersen imagines#alex andersen imagine#vikings#AHA#alex hogh andersen reader#alex hogh andersen x reader#aha imagine
78 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
rickeypeacemaker
Peacemaker
cordyceps-fungus
The zombie fungus 🍄❤️
rbs-photo
RBS Photo
bigmoisty
Untitled
meklaasblog
chubby & big