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horrorxweasley · 3 years

Text

Shibari

George Weasley x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut, Swearing!, Shibari,Bondage, Dom George, Sub Reader, Oral (Female receiving), Degradation, Praise

Word Count: 2.1K

Prompt(s) used: none

Summary: George has been practicing the art of Shibari and he now believes that he has gotten the hang of it so much that he decides to test out his new found skill on his girlfriend

General Masterlist

Kinktober Masterlist

Taglist

Over the last few months George has gotten into a new hobby that he had seen practiced online. He came across it when scrolling through an adult website which he had joined a while ago to find new and exciting things to try out in the bedroom with his girlfriend Y/N.

When he first came across it he thought it was just regular bondage but the more videos he watched of people practicing the art and the more photos he saw of completed works, his interest in it grew, so he finally ended up buying himself some rope and a mannequin to practice with.

For months George spent most of his free time in his home office where he also practiced Shibari. He followed multiple tutorials and flipped through hundreds of step by step books. In a surprisingly short space of time George went from a simple arm tie to perfecting the tortoise shell, an intricate pose where the ropes make patterns all over the torso, wrapping round the breast area and making them more prominent, tying the arms behind the back and harnessing through the female’s heat. The look was absolutely gorgeous looking, his imagination always went wild, picturing Y/N in that particular Shibari pose, the very thought in fact made his trousers tight.

After many hours, weeks and months of practicing George finally felt as though he was ready to share this hobby with his girlfriend and hopefully test it out on an actual human instead of a mannequin.One night when they both had a day off of work, Y/N and George were sat cuddled up on the couch watching their favourite TV show until George began to get that itching swell in his trousers as he thinks to himself what is just beyond his office door.

“Hey Darling?” George spoke, shifting slightly to ease the tent that has built in his trousers.

“Yeah?” Y/N replied her eyes not moving from the TV

George leaned in closer so his lips were brushing the side of her neck just under her ear before whispering lowly.

“I have something to show you”

This grabbed Y/N’s attention as she recognized that tone of voice, George was clearly not wanting to watch whatever was on the TV anymore, and she wasn’t complaining. George stood up from his position on the couch, stretching his hand out to Y/N to take, pulling her up and leading her out of the living room. Y/N instantly recognised that George was leading her to his office, confused she asked: “Georgie, why are you taking me to your office?”. She had thought he was ‘in the mood’ so why would he be leading her to his home place of work.

“You’ll see the princess just trust me” he smiled, turning the door handle down, opening the door. He allowed Y/N to walk in first, looking round the room confused, until her eyes landed on the mannequin and rope. The way the mannequin was dressed up in the tortoise shell shibari art took the words from Y/N’s mouth from it’s beauty and also caused a wet patch to form in her pants from knowing that George was wanting to do that to her.

Y/N turned swiftly round to look George in the eyes, her’s wide and doe like, he could feel his trousers tightening slightly at the look of her. His face has a knowing smirk on it and a mischievous gleam in his eyes confirming his intentions for the night ahead.

“What do you think princess?” he smirked

“I-” Y/N was lost for words, her gaze drifting back to the mannequin with the beautiful rope laced round it.

George moved to wrap his hands round her waist, resting his head on her shoulder before whispering in her ear.

“How bout I try my hobby out on a real model” his words laced with a smirk on his lips.

George swiftly took hold of Y/N’s hand and grabbed some of his nicest rope and led her out the home office and down the hallway to their shared bedroom. Their bedroom was partially decorated with the adult toys which they already used the majority of the time in the many nights they shared alone. Once inside George closed the door over with a click while Y/N stood in front of the king sized bed waiting for him patiently.

George slowly walked over to her, his pupils blown with lust, he placed the rope down on the bed behind them as his lips found hers in a loving soft kiss which gradually got rougher and needier as they melted into each other's touch. George bit down on Y/N’s bottom lip harshly causing her to gasp allowing his tongue to slip into her mouth battling with hers for dominance.

George pulled back from the kiss, his lips red and swollen slightly covered in their saliva.

“Strip” He growled, letting go of his tight grip around Y/N’s waist.

Y/N began straight away, starting with her t-shirt, pulling it up over her head to reveal her bra, George soaked in the sight as she moved her hands down her body shuffling out of her leggings. She hadn’t planned it but she was wearing George’s favourite two-piece on her.

“Fuck, those bra and panties make you look even more etheral than you do, shame that you’re going to take them off” he purred, kissing her neck and shoulders slightly.

Once he had pulled away Y/N began to strip off her underwear, she unclasped her bra throwing it to the ground, her nipple hardening with the cold air. Next to come off were her panties, sliding them down her legs and kicking them across the room leaving her completely bare in front of George. His eyes darkened as they wandered round her whole body as he paced towards her. His hands found their way to he sides, caressing her soft skin with a groan.

“So beautiful as always darling”

He reached behind her to grab the rope, showing it off in front of her.

“Now the fun begins” He smirked, kissing her lips quickly before getting on his knees. Due to George being a literal giant he wasn’t much smaller than Y/N while on his knees.

George began to weave the rope expertly all over Y/N’s body, wrapping round her waist, over and under her arms. Y/N looked down to George in admiration as he concentrated on his art. The moment that George started the lower half of the ropework, Y/N found herself whining and moaning slightly at the feeling of the rope brushing up against her wet pussy. The friction was something she had never experienced before, but she was definitely enjoying it.

It didn’t take long for George to finish what he was doing, getting up from his knees to admire his girlfriend. Her hands were now tied so she was unable to move them, the rope accentuating her breasts perfectly. The tent in his trousers became tighter and tighter with every second, he reached forward and pulled on the rope slightly causing Y/N to moan as it brushed past her clit.

“Mm you like how the rope feels against your skin darling? Not too tight is it?”

“Love it Georgie, not too tight, promise”

“Look so pretty tied up like this” He cooed kissing and sucking marks on to her neck causing her to moan as he quickly found her sweet spot, her arousal dampening the rope slightly.

“M’gonna eat out that pretty little pussy darling, bend over the bed for me be a good girl”

Y/N quickly complied, desperate for George’s tongue, she laid her top half down on to the bed, her cheek pressing against the mattress, her hands tied behind her back. George made his way over and once again got on his knees, he raised his hand to slap her arse leaving a red handprint on the skin. The sensation caused her to half moan, half scream into the soft material.

George spread her legs wider to allow himself more access and began to place sloppy kisses over her fold causing her to whine out in pleasure. He groaned against her causing the vibrations to shudder throughout her, his tongue began lapping at her folds gathering her juices on his tongue. Y/N’s whines and moans got louder with every lick and sucked against her sensitive bundle of nerves. Every time George ate her out, he made it his mission to do a better job than the last time, he ate her out like it was his last meal. The lewd sounds of Y/N’s moans, George’s groans and the wet lapping sound of George licking up her arousal.

Y/N’s legs shook as she got closer and closer to her orgasm.

“Fu-uck Georgie”

“Y’like that don’t you princess, taste so good”

George’s teeth grazed against her clit before sucking harshly, Y/N screamed out in pleasure, her walls beginning to flutter against nothing as she came. Her legs buckled but George held her tightly in place as he slurped up every last drop of her orgasm, moaning at the taste.

A muffled “Fuck” could be heard from Y/N

“Done so well f’me, taste so fucking good princess, why don’t you make yourself comfortable huh and i untie your hands, but the rest...the rest stays on” George growled as he leaned back from her cunt,he reached up and untied her hands so she could flip round and lie on her back.

George towered over her, unbuttoning his shirt, ripping it off of his torso exposing his pale, freckled chest to Y/N, her eyes roaming across his bare body as he roamed over her tied up one. The tent in his trousers now fully painful and in need of release, he took off his trousers and boxers allowing his erection to spring free, slapping his lower stomach.

The tip was red and covered in pre-cum, Y/N felt herself salivating at the sight, but as she reached up to stroke his cock George’s hand caught hers, shaking his head ”no”.

”ah ah ah, tonight is about you princess”

George crawled on top of her, capturing her lips with his, their eyes fluttering closed as their tongues brushed against each other. George reached down between them and began stroking his cockthroigh her folds, gathering her juices as lube. He pulled away to look Y/N in the eyes as he slowly pushed himself inside her, her face contorting with pleasure as a loud moan fell from her lips.

”F-fuck” George groaned as he fully sheathed himself inside her tight cunt. He moved his hand so that it was wrapped round the rope on her stomach, pulling it slightly causing friction to run up her body as he began to pound into her.

”y’like that don’t you, you like how the rope feels brushing against your slutty cunt as I fuck you” he groaned

”fuck yes Georgie, love it”

George’s pace quickened, his cock hitting Y/N’s g-spot with each thrust, her walls squeezing his dick perfectly causing both of them to moan out in pleasure. Geroge’s hand stayed firmly wrapped around the Shibari rope as the other cradled Y/N’s face, as he looked into her eyes lovingly leaning down to kiss her once more.

Y/N felt her vision become blurry with each thrust as she came closer and closer to her orgasm. George’s pace slowed as he felt her walls squeeze his cock but his thrusts became harder.

“So. fucking. tight.” George growled out with each hard thrust. The sound of their skin slapping together along with both of their moans filled the room.

“Georgie- oh god, m’so close, feels so good” Y/N moaned out

“Yeah? Can feel you squeezing me princess, fuck you feel so good”

George sped up his pace again as they both neared their release. Y/N could feel George’s dick twitch inside her causing her to moan loud.

Soon enough Y/N’s legs were shaking as her orgasm took over her body, and George’s white

ropes of release coated her velvet walls. Both of them moaned loudly in each other's ears as George held Y/N close to his body, by the ropes round her skin.

After they had both calmed down and from their highs and caught their breaths George pulled himself from inside her and laid down on the bed beside her, wrapping his arm around Y/N’s waist.

“Fuck we’re gonna have to do this more often princess”

“You were amazing Georgie, this was amazing” Y/N smiled

“But no matter how much I love these beautiful ropes, could you take them off me now, I don’t think I can sleep like this” She laughed breathily as George smirked.

“Of course princess”

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cornfarm · 3 years

Text

summertime cicadas

saiki kusuo x reader

word count: 1.6k

synopsis: you go to saiki’s place to play some video games. saiki learns a bit about your dirty laundry.

cw: suggestions of past sexual abuse. it’s not explicitly stated but it’s heavily implied.

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

reader is gender neutral!

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notes:

i’ve had this sitting in my drafts for a few weeks now, but i was never happy with it.

it’s implied that you and saiki are in week 2-4 of dating;;;

i have some other stuff in the works but im tired so notes r boring today

enjoy waaaaaa

===================================================

When Saiki and you were left alone together, the tension that hung in the air was fun and playful. Coy glances, the heart jittering brushes of skin, and the almost knowing smiles you two would shoot each other. This time around, it was heavy, and it weighed hefty on both your shoulders.

It was your first time over at his place since you had begun dating.

You had texted him: can i come over? i bought a new game i wanna play it with u

He was very happy you decided to make the first move, he didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.

Immediately, the “devlivered” at the corner of your text changed to “read”. He hastily typed back: Sure, let me know when you’re here. My parents aren’t home.

You saw letters on your screen, but you squinted your eyes shut upon them entering your field of vision. You had thrown your phone across the room, too nervous to look at his response. Tentatively picking it up, your heart nearly exploded at his words. You quickly respond: okay! be there soon :)

Saiki suddenly felt a bit on edge, realization finally striking him that you were about to be in his presence. In his bedroom. Alone.

Saiki Kusuo never really felt things too intensely, so to feel it strike at his heart and stomach was almost a bit too much for his liking.

Saiki wound up sitting patiently at the dining room table, using his telekensis to pick things up, rearrange ornaments and fine china, and clean up trash. The last thing he wants is you coming over when the place is a mess.

The doorbell rang, not that he needed it to know you were here. Beckoning you in, you pull out a small disc box from your bag.

“I heard really good reviews from it. I was interested in it since I liked the art style but I wanted to wait until people played it and reviews came out before I committed.”

He takes it from your hands to inspect it, “I’m not super interested in recent games, I like older ones a bit more. Indie ones too. I’ve heard that the gameplay is really compelling.”

“That’s okay, we can still play together, right?” You almost look a bit nervous. Saiki gnawed at the inside of his lip.

“Sure,” you don’t look satisfied, “I don’t mind, doing things with you is nice.”

The content expression on your face satisfies him. You follow him upstairs.

Then the tension settles. You’re so close, the pleasant floral scent from your detergent lingering where you walk. He peers behind you as you take in his room: simple, clean, minimalistic. It’s painfully in character. You smile, flopping face down on his bed.

“I’ve only ever been here with everyone else, it was so lively then, but it’s so different when it’s quiet!” You situate yourself so you’re sitting at the edge of his bed, legs dangling off the side.

“It’s the same room.”

“Yeah but, now it’s just me and you.”

“I suppose so.”

You watch as he peers to the wall, a bit away from you.

“What, you’re not nervous are you? Do I make you, THE Saiki Kusuo nervous?”

He clicks his tongue, and begins stalking towards you. He stops right in front of you, shins nearly touching the mattress of his bed. He looks down, expression deadpanned like usual. Perhaps thats precisely why you got so flustered. Your hands coming to clasp politely in your lap, you look up at him, determined to hold eye contact.

“Mhm,” he smirks, “you do. What will you do about it?”

He watches as your lips part into a small ‘o’, before you turn your head down and begin to pout. He’ll spare you this time. The small proximity between you settles in; he should get out of here, nervousness is finally catching up, it’s a bit too much for him to handle. For such a cocky one-liner, he really can’t keep it together. He exits his room for a moment with a brief “wait here”.

He hears you let out a sigh down the hall. Taking the chance to inspect his belongings, you peer under his bed, nothing suspicious there, before making your way to his desk. There’s his computer, a nice leather desk chair, a lamp, and a small empty mug that holds pens, pencils, and highlighters. You thumb through them.

He re-enters his room, quietly opening the door, but just enough so where you hear. Outstreching his arm, he hands you a bottle of iced tea.

“This is,” inspecting the label, “you don’t usually drink these, right?”

Saiki stays quiet.

“So you got it for me? You remembered I liked it?”

He nods.

You beam at him, mutter your gratitude, and pull out the games box.

Placing the disc onto the disc reader, and pushing it in, you start up the game, and watch the intro animation.

“Yeah, the graphics are really nice,” he comments.

You adjust yourself, sitting on top a cushion on the floor, he moves a bit closer.

Skipping though dialog, tutorials, and the first few levels of the game, Saiki controller finally begins responding.

“I’m sorry, I thought the multiplayer feature would be available from the start.”

“It’s okay, you can pick first”

“Hmm...” you pause, brows furrowing in focus as you look through the different player avatar options. Finally, you turn to him and smile, “this one! Your turn.”

Saiki bites at the inside of his lip, again, moving his thumb over the joystick, he picks his avatar.

It’s nice, it’s quiet, the sound of cicada’s chirping outside his bedroom window, and the soft hum of his fan are gentle. Neither of you are talking about grand things like aspirations and inhibitions, but you didn’t have to. The soft, casual tone of conversation is something Saiki’s making sure to cherish. The game’s fun, Saiki is enjoying himself, he enjoys you.

But tension still looms heavy overhead. You aren’t the only one who was thinking about it, how close you two were, how your elbows kept bumping, the small,and the way you both tried to get just a millimeter closer.

Saiki knew what you wanted, but he couldn’t pull himself to take initiative. Why? Was nervousness just another curse set out to plague him?

He’s reading your mind, he knows without a doubt you want to, so why is he so nervous to reach out and touch you? He wants to run away.

“Saiki?”

Your voice broke his thoughts, he turns to you. “Are you okay?”

He does it without thinking, slowly placing the controller down and putting his palms on your shoulders.

“I’m just not used to this,” he finally says, “like, dating and all that.”

You wrap your fingers around his wrists, “that’s okay, I’ve never dated anyone either, we can just take it slow. We have time.” You reassure, “I’m nervous too,” voice smaller than before. He lifts his hands off, hovering them in front of you, debating on where he should put them. Should he put them back on your shoulders, or would that be weird? Maybe it’s okay if he takes your hands into his, but right now your hands are...

His vision finally focuses, and he looks at your hands, defensively positioned in front of your chest with your palms facing him. You’re looking at him with a half smile, but your brows are pursed down. You’re watching him very carefully.

Your thoughts still, pausing until he moves again, taking your hands in his own. He’s confused, why do you look so skittish?

You look visibily confused that he takes your hands. He’s granted one thought:

He’s not gonna do anything, see? He’s just holding my hands, that’s it. He’s not gonna do anything.

Do what? What do you mean? Do what?

“What do you mean?” He blurts out, voice ringing through your head.

Astonishment paints your face. Shit, you didn’t think you said anything out loud. Could he read your mind? He chooses not to say anything.

You shake your arms, he retracts his hands.

“I’ve just had bad experiences with people in the past, I got nervous, that’s all. I’m sorry.”

Oh. Your internal dialog isn’t as pleasant as the words you choose to say.

“Maybe I’ll tell you about it more in the future,” you still have the strength to smile at him?

He reaches out to touch you again, but never connecting. He hesitates this time, fingers hovering over your forearm.

“I’m not really interested in that sort of stuff. I wouldn’t do that to you. I won’t do that to you,” he corrects.

With a smile pained with melancholy, you shift yourself forward, wrapping your arms around his torso, burying your face into his shoulder, legs finding their way between his. He wastes no time wrapping his own arms around your back, pressing your chest closer to his own. Your hearts pound against each other, breathing syncing as you both exhale a sigh.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I know,” your voice is muffled.

You stay like that for a few moments. Cicada’s chirping, fan blowing, there’s nothing to say- the silence is comforting in it’s own way.

You finally pull away from him, voice much brighter, “but I’m not ready to kiss you yet, I think my heart would explode!” He flushes red. Adjusting to sit back onto the cushion, you lean your weight onto his side. He tension has finally settled, and Saiki sighs contently.

Saiki only uses his powers in ways to convinience himself. Fortunately, keeping you safe was more than convinient to him: it was the bare minimum- an absolute necessity.

As soon as you leave, he’ll find the bastards that did it.

#the disaster of psi kusuo saiki #the disasterous life of saiki k #saiki k #saiki kusuo #saiki kusuo x reader #saiki k imagines #saiki k headcanons #saiki x reader

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meltwonu · 3 years

Text

| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 | [CHAPTER 20] FINAL

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; camshow, sex toys, shibari, dom!seungcheol, dirty talk, overstimulation/forced orgasms, squirting, degradation, name calling, daddy!kink, gags! 😍💕 ✨HAPPY NEW YEAR!!✨ Here’s to more fun fics in 2021! I can’t believe this is our last chapter though omg 😭 It’s been suuuuch a journey and a privilege to write this little series out! I’ve honestly thought about a camgirl/boy series for like, over a year now, and I’m glad I finally did it! I completed one of my goals! 🥺💕 2020 was definitely a wild one, but I want to thank you all so fuckin’ much for supporting me and stickin’ it out with me all year! Here’s to more in the coming year!💕 Also I was proofreading this at the dining table last night thinking my roommate wouldn’t come out of their room but they did(while I was making dinner and my hands were dirty so I couldnt close my laptop ☠️) and they walked past my laptop and now I’m convinced they saw my fucking smut fic right in the open so yes my little mini-break next week is MUCH needed cause I am ✨embarrassed✨ 🤣 I’ll still do my inbox roundup tomorrow and probably answer a bunch of small thirst posts ‘n stuff throughout the week but there won’t be any drabbles! For now, enjoy chapter 20 🥺, have a safe weekend, and remember that I love you~ ❤️🍒💕

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 COMPLETE

Seungcheol wakes up much earlier than you do the next morning; pressing a kiss to your forehead as you groan and snuggle deeper into your pillow.

“Baby, I need to go run some errands for a little bit, okay? Just keep sleeping, you don’t need to get up yet. But, I made breakfast and put it in the microwave for you when you decide to get up later.”

His voice is muffled and you can barely understand what he’s saying but you nod; a soft sigh on your lips when you drift back into dreamland. He takes his time getting ready, checking his phone notifications as he gets dressed and places a note on the nightstand knowing that you didn’t catch a single word he said.

‘Hey, did you get everything I asked for?’

Jimin🧍🏻: of course, who do you think I am? Jeongguk?

Jimin🧍🏻: and btw, i’m just giving you a crash course okay? We don’t really have a ton of time

Jimin🧍🏻: did you watch those tutorial videos I sent you?

‘Yeah, I did some practice on my breaks, but I guess you can tell me if I’m doing anything wrong.’

Jimin🧍🏻: okee, i’ll be waiting. Don’t get here too late!

‘I’ll be otw soon. Thanks again, Jimin.’

“Ow--damn, okay, you don’t need to tug on it so much!”

“Sorry, I’ll be careful! And why are we practicing on you anyway?! Couldn’t you just have shown me pictures or something?”

“How else will you learn if not on an actual body? It doesn’t work the same way, Seungcheol.” Jimin pauses, checking himself in the mirror. “Also, keep in mind she does have boobs so just… go slow, okay? It’s not gonna sit like this on her.”

Seungcheol blushes a crimson red; biting the inside of his cheek at how amateur he was at this.

“Okay…”

Seungcheol is gone for a lot longer than you anticipate and although he replies quickly to your texts, you can’t help but be curious about where he’d gone and what he was doing.

Especially knowing that the two of you had to film tonight and knowing that everything was up to Seungcheol.

A shiver rolls down your body at the thought and you quickly try to shake off the nerves that seem to slowly invade your body when your mind starts to wander.

“It’ll be fine, I’m sure…”

“I’m home!”

“Where have you--oh, that’s… a b-big box? Um, should I be concerned...”

Seungcheol grins, shrugging as he sets it onto the kitchen counter. “Just some supplies for tonight. I had to go pick them up from a friend but I had to make sure everything was right.” He notices the way you can’t seem to take your eyes off of the box; eyes twinkling when he makes his way towards you.

He tilts your head up to meet his in a searing kiss, lips easing into a smile when you wrap your arms around his neck and melt under his touch. You moan against his lips just before he pulls away; staring dreamily at him while his hands start to roam over your clothed body.

“We have a long night ahead of us, sweetheart. Let’s pamper you a little before then, hmm?”

j__min: ??? where’s the loverboy

j__min has donated $200

angelhan has donated $75

therealchan99 has donated $50

xcaliburDK has donated $75

xcaliburDK: is that the sybian? Haven’t seen that in a looong while

You bite your lip and nod, somewhat shy as you sit alone in front of the camera. “Seungcheol’s still… setting up but he told me to start! I’m a little nervous, to be honest…” Your eyes flit to Seungcheol who rummages through the box in the kitchen and from the angle you’re sat in, you can’t see a single thing he takes out.

Earlier, he’d cooked you your favorite meal and even took the time to give you a full body massage before the two of you cuddled on the sofa and watched a movie. To you, it seemed a little too suspiciously tame and you only found yourself more nervous when he made you drink two glasses of water and ever so quietly announced it was time to start getting ready for the camshow.

“He’s being so suspicious! He was even gone for a few hours earlier today…” You mumble; brows furrowed at the camera before checking the comments.

It still amazed you every time with how much money you and Seungcheol made from the camshows and videos and it made you feel even better knowing that everyone loved the chemistry the two of you had together. There were a lot of video requests and ideas mixed in with the comments at any given time and you were definitely ready to pitch some to Seungcheol now that you’d rebranded your channel to be a couple’s channel instead.

“Almost done, sweetheart!”

gc__koo: he told me to watch cuz he was being suspicious with me too

gc__koo has donated $50

alphagyu97: what is he even plotting

alphagyu97: i am excited to see the sybian again tho ngl

artist8hao: pretty baby gonna squirt for us again?

universe_WZ: hell fuckin yea let us see how fuckin wrecked you get on that machine

You feel your pussy clench around emptiness at their comments; already feeling yourself getting wetter and wetter with the anticipation.

Movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention and Seungcheol walks towards the bed with a wide smile and the same box in hand. “Ready?” You can only nod back slowly, watching as he dumps the contents of the box right next to your body.

gc__koo: oy

chwenon: oh shit

sleepy_wonu: oh baby, you’re in for it now

sleepy_wonu has donated $100

Your entire body fills with warmth as you look over the various objects; unsure of where to really look first. “I, um--”

A stack of red ropes sits next to a small bullet vibrator that sits next to a ball gag that sits next to a pair of EMT shears and your eyes immediately flit up to Seungcheol who only smirks back at your shocked expression. “I had some other toys I wanted to use but I figured I should go easy on you, y’know? Since you showed me some mercy last night.”

Nodding, you reach out towards the ropes, touching them shyly. “Why red?”

“Thought they’d be on theme for you, babygirl.”

Seungcheol takes his time; remembering Jimin’s words when he tugs the ropes around your wrists.

“Colour, babygirl?”

“G-green… daddy…”

He nods, sitting up on his knees behind you as you sit on the sybian and face the camera. You bite your lip, somewhat embarrassed that you were already soaking the toy underneath you as Seungcheol worked to bind your arms behind you.

“D--daddy, where did you l-learn this?” You whisper, somewhat curious if this had anything to do with why he was gone for so long earlier in the day.

“Mm, daddy’s friend Jimin was kind enough to help me get the tools and teach me a few tricks to make sure I kept my babygirl safe. Wasn’t that kind of him?” You nod gently, gulping when you shift atop the machine slightly in hopes of relieving some of the growing sexual tension in your body. “Why don’t you thank him properly, sweetheart?”

Your hazy eyes make eye contact with the camera, head tilted slightly. “T-thank you, J-Jimin… for--for helping daddy…”

j__min: omg a shoutout ive made it

kitty_junjun: we never thought we’d see the day

tangerine_kwan: and here we all thought you were gonna be the bad guy huh

hoshi_tiger_xx: like when u only see previews of the book online but the rest of it is different ykwim

Seungcheol makes sure your arms are bound snug enough but not too tight; leaning away slightly to admire his rope work. “Feeling okay so far, babygirl?”

Nodding, you whine back slightly. “Y-yes, daddy… But… my--my pussy wants s-something…” He laughs in return, readjusting so that he’s sitting on your side this time to give himself easier access to start the rest of the bindings.

“Is that so? You’re gonna have to be a little more patient this time ‘cause daddy’s not done yet.” He starts working on the rest of the harness; going slow and checking in with you often to make sure none of the ropes were digging into your skin or making you uncomfortable. “You’ll have to forgive me a little though, I’m admittedly a ‘lil inexperienced so our pretty babygirl is only going to be tied up in this pretty harness for tonight.”

gentleman_josh95: the fact u even took the time to learn just for her

gentleman_josh95 has donated $100

artist8hao: seriously, the dedication

kitty_junjun: we stan a man who knows safety and etiquette

Comments of reassurance and donations flood in at Seungcheol’s small apology and although the two of you are in your own world; you can tell from just the amount of pings coming from your laptop that they all seemed to be encouraging him.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as Seungcheol continues to move around you on the bed to finish the harness and a smile graces his lips when he starts to secure the last knots in the back. He can’t help but mentally pat himself on the back at how neatly he’d done it for his first time.

“There. All done, baby.”

Your eyes flit to the laptop’s screen to see yourself; cheeks hot when you see how fucked out you already look and he hadn’t even touched you properly or turned on the machine.

The star harness Seungcheol had tied looks pretty with red ropes and you can’t hide your smile at how good it looks on you too either. “Ah, daddy made it really p-pretty… Thank you.”

This time, Seungcheol nods, letting you admire yourself as he silently reaches for the small remote for the sybian, switching it on.

Your entire body lurches forward as soon as the vibrations attack your clit and you immediately find yourself moaning and grinding down onto the machine as he gives you some relief.

“You’re welcome, babygirl. Now let’s really have some fun, huh?”

You need to cum.

Badly.

“Awww, is my pretty baby drooling? Does it feel that good on your sensitive ‘lil clit?” He teases, smoothing down your hair as you cry around the ball gag in your mouth; drool seeping out from the side of your lips when he raises the vibrations a setting higher.

You don’t know how many times he’d played with the settings and edged you by now, but all you do know is that the urge to cum only grows stronger as you grind against the machine, soaking it with your wetness as you chase the pleasure building up in your body again.

Surely cumming was okay, right? He never said you couldn’t.

You whimper around the ball gag, eyes fluttering shut when the tension in your body snaps in the blink of an eye and your thighs clamp down onto the sides of the machine. Throwing your head back, you moan against the gag and ride out your high as Seungcheol watches you from the side.

“Mm, bet that felt good, huh? But I know you want something in that greedy ‘lil cunt of yours, don’t you? You want daddy’s cock slamming into your tight ‘lil hole ‘til it’s full of my cum, right, sweetheart?” He licks his lips, turning off the sybian as you slump forward.

universe_WZ: shit shes so sensitive

chwenon: especially with her arms bound like that i bet she’s on cloud nine rn

gentleman_josh95: her cute lil head is probably all fuzzy already from all the sensations

therealchan99 has donated $100

gc__koo has donated $75

j__min has donated $150

All you can do is whimper and nod; teary eyes blinking back at Seungcheol as he smirks and leans in towards you.

“Mmm, you’ll get what you want eventually. But for now, you’re gonna cum again.”

He turns the sybian back on, licking his lips when he sees your body tensing again. It was always easier to get you to cum a second time and his point is proven when you mewl around the ball gag a few minutes later; chest heaving in stuttered breaths as you try to shy away from the toy still vibrating against your overly sensitive clit when you’re quickly thrown into another orgasm.

“You always cum for daddy so easily, don’t you, babygirl?”

Your head feels fuzzy after already cumming twice in such a short span of time but you nod, head lolling to the side as Seungcheol finally turns the sybian off for good.

Seungcheol gives you a second to catch your breath before he’s scooting in and fiddling with the clasps at the back of your head to take the ball gag off.

A thread of saliva connects your lips to the gag and you whimper at how good it feels to be able to actually speak again. “D-daddy…” Drool drips from your mouth as your lead lolls forward and Seungcheol is quick to bring a hand up to keep your head up as he looks into your lust filled eyes.

“Colour, sweetheart?”

“Still g-green…” He nods back, checking to make sure none of the ropes had shifted. “Would you like some water before we continue, baby?”

“Yes, daddy…”

He fetches you a glass of water, tilting it against your lips as you down the entire glass and you find yourself a little surprised at how needed it was. “Thank you, d-daddy…”

“You’re welcome, babygirl. Ready to keep going?”

You nod, a little bit more energized. “I hope everyone, mmh, l-likes the show so f-far~” Your teary vision prevents you from reading the comments and before you can even make an effort to, Seungcheol is already helping you off of the machine and helping you sit on the bed across from him.

alphagyu97: ugh she looks so fucking good in that harness

angelhan: right? That shade of red looks so good against her skin too

angelhan: so fuckin pretty

tangerine_kwan: pics for the private room later? Plz i beg

Seungcheol takes this time to take off his boxer briefs, cock curving up against his abdomen when he’s fully naked across from you. He wraps a hand around his cock, moaning and spreading the precum down his shaft as you watch. “D’you want this, baby?”

Your lips fall open in a silent moan as you watch Seungcheol jerk himself off and you can’t help but squirm. “Y-yes…”

“Tell me exactly what you want then. Let them hear what a filthy little slut you are for me.” You can’t help but feel miserably empty watching him and despite having already cum twice, you want his cock fucking you open and making you cum again.

“I--I--”

“Yes, babygirl?”

“I, ngh, I want d-daddy’s cock… Please? Ah, I--I wanna feel you fucking my--my pussy into the, mmh, s-shape of your c-cock… And I w-want you to c-cum inside my--my slutty little h-hole…”

Seungcheol scoffs, hips shallowly thrusting up into his enclosed fist. “That’s right. You’re just my slutty ‘lil babygirl that lets me use all her tight holes how I please, right? You like it when I cum down your throat and in your pretty ‘lil ass. But we all know you like it best when I cum in your hot ‘lil cunt. Makes you feel all warm and full, doesn’t it? You like it when my cum is dripping out of your spent cunt and sliding down your shaky thighs.” This time you nod furiously as you whine back in response.

“P-please… Can’t wait any--anymore!”

This time, the impatience takes over as you slightly tug on the ropes; whining when they don’t give. “Daddy!”

And this time, he gives in quicker than he anticipates, growling as he reaches for the EMT shears to cut you from the harness. “Don’t let your arms down, no matter how much you want to. You’re going to strain your arms if you move too fast so let me handle it, okay, sweetheart?”

The sudden gentleness in his voice has a giddy warmth pouring over you as you nod and sit still while he cuts at various points of the harness to make the ropes fall loose around your arms and chest. You keep your arms in the same position like he requested and you soon feel his hands roaming your skin and massaging your arms to get the blood flowing again.

“You’re so good for me, baby.” He whispers against your hair, leaning down to kiss your shoulder before he slowly easing your arms down from being folded behind your back.

He continues to massage your arms for a few more minutes before it’s you that’s getting impatient. “Daddy… Can you fuck me now?” Whispering, you slightly turn your body to the side to meet his gentle stare.

Seungcheol laughs under his breath, nodding. “Lay on your back for me, legs spread.”

You follow his orders as you quickly scramble to get into position; legs spread wide for him to situate himself between.

“Mm, your pussy is still so fuckin’ wet. I wanna taste you on my tongue, baby.” Whines spill from your lips as you shake your head ‘no.’

“No! My p-pussy feels empty, I need y-your cock, daddy… ‘n I’m so wet, you can probably, ah, just s-slide your cock in…”

He wraps a hand around his cock just as you wrap your legs around his waist and he guides himself until the head of his cock is right at your entrance.

Neither of you say a word as he slowly starts to sink his cock in; guttural moans on his lips when he meets no resistance and bottoms out in a singular thrust. “Holy fuck, your cunt is so fuckin’ wet. Shit, and so t-tight!” You clench around him, already feeling good with his cock inside of you as you beg him to fuck you hard and fast.

“Ngh, p-please fuck me like--like I’m your, hah, c-cocksleeve… I want it f-fast, daddy!”

He grits his teeth at your words; drawing his hips back before snapping them into you just how you wanted. “Fast, hmm? All you think about in that pretty head of yours is my cock pounding you open, huh? Slamming into you so fuckin’ good, it makes your toes curl when you cum.”

Seungcheol starts a quick pace, already feeling the pleasure building up for himself when you’re reduced to garbled noises and broken cries of his name. The heels of your feet dig into the small of his back as you try to press him in closer and he’s quick to reach for the small bullet vibrator left on the bed next to your body.

“Your body is so fuckin’ sensitive, I can already feel how tight you’re getting around me. So fuckin’ greedy to cum too. Already came twice and you still want more. You’re not satisfied until your whole body is shaking underneath me, huh, sweetheart?” He turns the small toy on, pressing it to your clit as you yelp and let out choked sobs.

“Ah, ngh, d-daddy, my--my clit’s t-too sen--sensitive! I--I can’t--!” Squirming, you feel the pressure building up obscenely quick; bottom lip quivering when he takes one of your free hands and makes you hold the toy to your swollen clit.

“Just a little more, sweetheart. Don’t you wanna cum?”

He angles his thrusts to graze against your g-spot and loud cries of his name leave your lips in a hurried, jumbled mess when he only doubles his pace.

The sound of donations and comments pour in like water and get lost within the ringing in your ears; unable to even warn Seungcheol that you’re about to cum when you feel your entire body starting to lock up underneath him.

Your lips part in a silent scream and your back bows off of the bed, thighs shaking uncontrollably as you cum for the third time. Seungcheol growls, fucking you through it as you squirt all over his lower half. He finds it harder and harder to thrust into you as you cum, but he feels himself quickly following suit with your warm walls fluttering around his cock.

“Fuck, baby, that’s right. Squirt for me, get me fuckin’ soaked while you cum.” He uses a free hand to make sure you keep the toy pressed to your clit, growling when he starts to unload his cum inside of you. “Mmh, gonna fill your cunt up with what you want, baby.”

A shaky moan leaves your lips as you feel him throbbing inside your pussy; walls clamped down onto him in a vice grip as you ride out the remnants of your orgasm.

“Ah, d-daddy’s cumming suh--so much inside of my p-pussy…”

Whining, you feel Seungcheol’s grip on your hand give way as he rides out his pleasure and you take the opportunity to turn off the small bullet vibrator while he doesn’t notice.

You watch his face contort in pleasure, hips still shallowly thrusting into you as his entire body shivers above you.

“D-daddy’s so h-handsome...” You mumble, cheeks hot when he cracks a smile through the pleasure wracking his body and chuckles under his breath.

“Thank you, babygirl.”

After you end the show, Seungcheol makes sure to cuddle with you on the bed for a little while longer.

“One more glass of water, baby.” You whine in response, pouting up at him before he gets up from the soaked sheets.

“But I already had a glass! If you have a piss kink just say so, ‘Cheol!”

He lets out a boisterous laugh at your comment, trudging back to the bed from the kitchen with another glass of water for you. “You need to be hydrated, sweetheart. You came three times and we played a little more rough today. I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“Fine, but you didn’t deny my comment.” You snarkily reply, taking the glass from him as you down the water.

“Don’t make me have to punish you again! I’ll have you know I still need to get you all washed up and change the bed--”

A faint pinging has the two of you turning to the laptop; still on your camming homepage from where you’d checked the revenues from tonight’s show.

A small [1] sits above your inbox and Seungcheol is quick to turn to you with an eyebrow raised. “I thought you turned off the messaging system on your profile?”

You tilt your head in confusion, handing him the emptied glass. “I did. The only messages I should get are from, like, the actual system admins or other creator accounts which, I haven’t received any ‘til... now, I guess?”

Seungcheol sets the glass down onto the nightstand before he takes a seat next to you, dragging the laptop closer as you go to check the notification.

“’Love&Letter Films’? Aren’t they one of the biggest adult film companies?” Mumbling, you click on the message, giving yourself and Seungcheol a second to process the message that stares back at you; a shocked smile on your lips.

‘Hello!

I hope this message finds Cherry and Seungcheol well.

We, at ‘Love&Letter Films’, have really enjoyed the shows and videos from your channel throughout the years and we really have enjoyed watching the growth of your channel and the addition of Seungcheol to it. The dynamics between the two of you are rare in this industry and we’ve yet to see anyone like the two of you in this market.

The shows from the last two nights have proven that the two of you have the right kind of chemistry to film together for bigger productions and we would love to hire you for a few film productions we have planned in the upcoming weeks as a feeler. Of course, all expenses paid by us if you would kindly take our offer.

We love the various scenes and roles that the two of you take on with ease and we would love to help propel your careers forward, should you pursue a career in the adult entertainment industry.

Please don’t hesitate to contact me as I’ve listed my contact information below. I’m excited to hear from the two of you and hope to work with you in the future on many projects.

Respectfully,

Kwon Soonyoung, L&L FILMS CEO’

#cherrybomb!cheol #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #scoups scenarios #scoups imagines #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol scenarios #svt scenarios #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #scoups fic #seungcheol fic #scoups #seungcheol #svt fic #seventeen fic

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theladyofdeath · 3 years

Text

The First Day {Oblivion}

An extension of Oblivion. It’s not necessary to read the story first, but if you’d like to, here is the masterlist: Oblivion

A series of short stories that revolve around Cassian as a single father, raising his daughter, Lily.

Fatherhood {Oblivion Masterlist}

Exhaustion was an understatement.

When Cassian’s alarm went off at seven, he wanted to tell his phone to fuck off. Only hours before, it had been his best friend and mentor, but now? Phones were stupid. Alarms were stupid. Everything was stupid.

Everything but sleep.

He pressed snooze.

The alarm went off again, eight minutes later.

With a muttered curse, Cassian was turning the alarm off and swinging his legs over the side of his bed.

A groan came from behind him and Cassian looked over his shoulder at Kiara, their golden retriever, who was obviously trying to get her beauty rest. She gave Cassian a look that he swore damned him.

“I know, girl,” he grumbled, patting her head. “I’m tired, too. Lucky you, you get to keep sleeping while I have to go wake up the princess.”

In response, Kiara huffed and closed her eyes, once more.

They better get used to it, he supposed. He’d have to wake Lily up every day, at this hour, for the next thirteen years.

The kid had never been a morning person.

Her mother hadn’t been, either.

Apparently, neither was Kiara.

Cassian was - when he got a good night’s sleep, that is. Not when he spent the entirety of his night on YouTube.

He padded across the hall to Lily’s room and pushed open the door, where his five-year-old was sprawled out on her bed, her golden-brown hair wild, her blankets pushed onto the floor. With a chuckle, Cassian walked to the side of her bed and plopped down on the mattress next to her. His legs hung off the end, by about a foot, and he took up most of the bed, which meant that Lily was now pushed up against the wall as she woke up, groaning.

“Daddyyyyy! You’re too big,” she cried, digging her heels into the side of his leg. “Off my bed!”

“Can’t,” Cassian said, yawning. “Time to wake up, it’s a big day. We’ve got to get ready.”

“No,” she protested. “Tired, daddy.”

“Me too,” Cassian agreed, and had to admit that her protests were awfully compelling. “But, it’s your first day of school-.”

Lily shot up in her bed and jumped on Cassian’s stomach in excitement. He let out a grunted curse and caught his daughter before she flung herself off the bed.

“First day of school!” she yelled, giddily. “C’mon dad!”

He let go, and Lily was running out of her room and down the hall. A minute later, he heard barking, which meant that Lily must’ve gotten Kiara wound up and they were having an early morning dance party.

Cassian was too tired for this.

Groaning as he sat up, Cassian took himself off the pink, twin-sized bed and padded down the hall where Lily and Kiara were, indeed, jumping around.

“I thought you were tired,” he mumbled, eyeing Kiara.

She just wagged her tail.

“Get dressed and meet me in the kitchen for breakfast,” Cassian said, yawning.

“Okay, daddy!” she yelled, after him. “C’mon Kiara, let’s go get dressed.”

Cassian snorted as he padded down the stairs and headed into the kitchen. Within ten minutes, he had a plate of eggs and bacon piled high for him, and a bowl of Fruit Loops and a blueberry muffin for Lily.

“Lil!” he called, setting it all on the breakfast nook - the same nook he had eaten at as a kid before school. “Come on, sweetheart! Breakfast is served!”

She groaned. “Coming! Patient!”

Cassian rolled his eyes at his five-year-old’s overdramatic nature and sat at the table, starting to eat without her. A moment later, she came down the stairs, Kiara just behind her.

Cassian looked at how she dressed herself and blinked.

“Do I look pretty, daddy?” she asked, twirling around.

She wore a pink tank top, jean shorts, and a white tutu. On her feet were red cowgirl boots.

“Beautiful,” he said, mouth full of eggs. “I think I wore the same thing to my first day of kindergarten.”

Lily’s hands flew over her mouth as she giggled. “No you didn’t, daddy!”

Cassian laughed as he motioned for her to sit down and eat. She didn’t protest as she sat and ate her entire bowl of cereal, and her whole muffin. Cassian was washing his plate as she finished, and once she was done, she was on her booted-feet yelling, “Let’s go!”

“Not so fast,” Cassian said, walking after her. “Upstairs. Teeth brushed. Hair brushed.”

Lily groaned, yet again, as she stomped back up the stairs, Cassian just behind her. They brushed their teeth, then Lily was ordered to sit.

“Why?” she asked, even though she did as she was told.

“Daddy’s gonna do your hair,” he said, taking a brush through her long, wavy hair.

Lily’s brows shot up. “You can’t do hair, daddy.”

“Oh yes I can,” he said, taking some oil from the bottle on the counter to smooth her hair out, taming her waves. “Daddy stayed up late watching YouTube tutorials on how to do pretty hairstyles for school, so we’re going to try one out today.”

Lily looked skeptical. “You don’t do hair good, daddy.”

“I do now,” he sang, starting to braid. Kiara hadn’t been having it the night before as he practiced on her fur, her tail. She kept nipping at his hands to stop. He didn’t blame her, of course. Her fur was rather short, but it was all he had, other than himself, to practice on. Which he did, too. Although, Cassian was perfectly man enough to acknowledge that he could not pull off french-braids.

At all.

Lily looked much cuter.

He separated her hair into four half-braids, then split her hair in half and put them in pigtails. He put a little product in the bottom of her pigtails, so that her hair wouldn’t get too frizzy. After putting two little pink bows above her ponytail holders, he told her to look in the mirror. “Alright. What do you think?”

Lily’s grin was wide as she gasped. “So pretty, daddy. The Tube taught you how to braid?”

The Tube was how she referred to YouTube. Cassian never wanted to correct her. It was too cute.

“YouTube and Kiara,” Cassian said, winking. “You look very pretty, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, daddy,” she said, smiling at her reflection in the mirror.

Cassian watched her and his smile faltered. Those eyes, so full of joy, got him every time. Gray-blue, filled with awe.

Nesta’s eyes used to look like that when she looked at him.

He cleared his throat. “Alright, kiddo, let’s get going, we don’t want to be late.”

Lily hopped off her stool and called for Kiara. “Kiara can come with us, right, daddy?”

Cassian nodded, his throat tight as she hurried out of the bathroom. He let her have a moment chasing Kiara as he went back into his room and pulled on a t-shirt to go with his sweatpants. He pulled his hair back to gather the mess that was on top of his head, slipped on some shoes and was hurrying downstairs.

“Come on, Lil!” He called. “We’re gonna be late! Grab your backpack-.”

She came around the corner, her Wonder Woman backpack already on her back.

“I’m ready, daddy, I’ve been waiting for you,” she said, with a roll of her eyes.

Cassian snorted as he walked into the kitchen and grabbed her lunchbox out of the fridge. “Here,” he said, hooking her lunchbox onto her backpack. “Pizza lunchable, carrots and ranch, orange slices, and a juice box.”

“Yummy!” She said, throwing her hands in the air.

Cassian took her hand and whistled for Kiara to follow them as they made their way out of the house and into Cassian’s truck. He took a picture, of course, to send to Feyre and Elain. If he hadn’t, he would never hear the end of it.

The whole way to the school, which was only a few blocks away, Lily sang to the radio at the top of her lungs and Kiara barked along with her.

Once they pulled into the parking lot, Cassian parked the truck and left Kiara in the car as he walked Lily into the building. She took his hand, and Cassian held onto her little fingers tightly. He knew there would come a day when she wouldn’t want to hold his hand any longer, so he would dwell on the days that she would.

He walked her into the first classroom on the left, across from the school’s office, where Cassian had taken Lily on orientation night.

Mrs. Lochan’s room. Welcome kindergartners! the door read.

“Alright,” Cassian breathed, taking a deep breath as he knelt in front of his daughter. “Go in there and make a bunch of friends and have the best day ever, yeah?”

She rolled her eyes. “I will.”

“Alright,” he said, quietly. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you,” she said, and threw her arms around his neck. He held onto her tightly, as long as she’d let him, before letting her go. Lily kissed her dad on the cheek. “Thank you for doing my hair, daddy.”

And with that, she was off.

He watched her hurry inside and the teacher had spotted her immediately, greeting her and making her feel welcome. Cassian gave them both a little wave before taking his leave.

Hands shoved into his pockets, he walked back to his truck and got inside. After shutting the door behind him, he sat there for a moment in silence.

Kiara laid her head down on his lap and whined.

Cassian chuckled, wistfully. “I know, I know. Our little girl is growing up.”

Kiara huffed and sat back up, staring out the window toward the front of the school. She stayed like that until Cassian pulled out of the parking lot and back toward the house, where he and Kiara would be counting down the hours on the clock, waiting to go pick Lily up from her first day of kindergarten.

#fatherhood oblivion #oblivion #nessian #nesta #cassian #fanfic #modern au #fanfiction #sjm #acotar #acosf

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chiquitinchino · 3 years

Text

【7:46pm】

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ꕥ Fluffy Puffy ꕥ

Yunho x reader

Warning Too cute to be true (AU)

Descr: You are making up extra credit for your art class, so you decided to take a pottery class. Based on the name that was given to you, you thought that the teacher would be an old man. Your Pottery class turned out to be private lessons with a stunning young man that was around your age. Oh what to do . . where is this lesson going?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The professor from your art course is making you take lessons to boost your grade. Not that it was bad or anything, you just wanted an A to make your GPA look pretty. Your art teacher was a pain in the ass with her grades, “so stingy”, you would say to yourself. But pottery couldn’t be that bad. Every assignment was equally stressful as it was relaxing anyways. Best of both worlds I guess.

You chose from the list she had, “5 Ceramics/ Pottery lessons with Sir. Jeong” it was a weird last name and sounded old but you went with it. It was only 5 lessons and playing with clay how hard can it be?

“Ugh It’s just 4:25 and it’s already so dark”, you said walking into your 4:30 class. Taking off all layers you sat comfortably on the stool. Right next to sign that said 4:30 class. No one was there. You were kinda creeped out. The lights were dim, the sun was already gone and all you heard was a person shuffling in another room. Not even a receptionist! “Oh these are private classes”, . . . “With an old maannnn. . .” You sat there wincing at yourself allowing your brain to wonder through 5 million different scenarios.

Thud! “Okay . . Class time”, you heard a voice say. It didn’t . . sound old. . Nor look 👀. A Tall handsome young man appeared in front of you. Black hair, very pink lips and soft eyes. Perplexed at what laid before you, the young man was . . Actually very very handsome.

“Sir Jeong???? He deserves the name of Mr. At least.”, you thought to yourself as the teacher walked towards you cleaning his hands from clay.

“So you’re my new student. Huh?”, he asked.

“Uhmmm, yes . . I guess”, you replied looking around.

“Haha alright let’s get started then”.

You were now so happy it was a private lesson. He was giving you a tutorial, and your eyes were just wondering his body. He face was full of concentration; body big for the little stool he was in; not lean, strong build; well rounded all around; his hands. . . Seemed strong. . You thought to yourself; his concentrated face gave him a different look than what he had when he walked in, but his cheeks squished your hearts with how soft and plushie they looked; and his black hair seemed so silky and soft; and his voice wasn’t rough or smooth or deep or high, but it was definitely sweet and full of patience and delicacy. “Like . . Honey, or maple sap”

WHIPPED IS WHAT YOU WERE

“Eehhhh, I would say more like dough, because it’s easier to structure than honey. But whatever makes you comfortable”, wide eyed you looked at his face. Blankly he stated back.

“Everything okay? You’re looking at me like I have 3 heads”.

Panicked you responded, “ah no no nothing Mr. Jeong, please continue”.

“Please call me Yunho, it’s weird to have someone around my age to call me that”

“Oh, okay then. . Yunho, please continue”.

After 30 minutes of Yunho talking and demonstrating you how to treat, knead, and play with the clay you were finally able to do it yourself. Excited you rolled up your sleeves. Sitting at the stool, Yunho stood in front of you watching you. He seemed taller and taller the closer he got. A little shy you dived in. You started off better than you expected. With enough confidence you entered the hard part, building your desired pot. Before molding your pit of clay you stood and took a few steps back. Thinking real hard on how you wanted it to come out. Like a light bulb it clicked. You went to work. Super concentrated you were building up your creation.

SNAP!

Just like that went your concentration as from the blink of an eye a ring of your clay was on one hand and the other places spinning on the wheel. You heard giggling from your side. Looking over you saw Yunho giggling. “No go ahead do as I showed you”, “Ehhh. . . Ha. . . “, you liked blankly at your mold not moving. Looking back over to Yunho he wasn’t there. Thud, you heard something behind you. It was a stool that wasn’t there when you first sat down, and it was reallllllllllly close. A rush of black flooded your sight. It was just Yunho sitting behind you.

“Come. look.”, he said wetting his hands. You turned around quickly, as your face flushed red realizing what’s about to happen. His chest bumped onto your back lightly leaning you forwards, his arms stretched forward towards the mold and taking the clay in your hands. Molding it into what it used to be. Extremely flustered you watched his hands.

“See ?”, He said standing up from the stool.

“You remember now ?”

“mhm”

Why are you so hot, you felt like sweating. UGGGHH what was thattt?! He was so warm and delicate with me. He might have sat behind me but he didn’t even touch you much. Is he really that big or am I just small. So many thoughts rushed through your head while you tried building your vase. Every few minutes your clay would flop, break, and bend too far. After thinking for too long you just grew frustrated.

“Ughh come onnn”, you talked badly to your clay. Putting it back and adding more pressure to your art. And SNAP.

The damn clay broke off.

Tensing up you squished the clay in your hand.

“Hey, heyyy don’t take it out on the clay now”, you heard a voice behind you say softly. His big hand brushed against your clenched fist. Feeling another hand on your other shoulder, you saw Yunho’s face pop on your side view.

“Let’s try again, this time let me help you, okay?”, he said slightly smiling.

Feeling something on your hand you looked at your hand. His hand. His though brushing against your hand to ease up. Looking back, how could you not calm down. Releasing the tension, you let the frustration fall off your face.

Yunho let out a cheeky smile, “great okay, now lets go back to putting it on the mold”, his voice was so . . Patient it was so sweet. He held both of your hands to the mold. And you both wet your hands in wet clay. You can feel his chest on your back. His breathe was calm. And his skin was soft. He was very warm too. You oddly felt safe.

“Done”, In an instant your bubble popped. “Huh?” You looked at the vase before you. It wasn’t the one you wanted to make exactly but it still was pretty. Popping up once again at your side you looked over your shoulder. It was a smiling Yunho. You quickly turned around flustered of the pretty boy.

He got up and placed the stool in it’s place. “I think that should be it for our class today, I am going to heat it up so then we can paint next class”, Yunho explained to you. It seemed like everything was moving so fast. You weren’t ready to leave him. He was too dreamy please don’t let the class be over yet.

The moment you laid your eyes on him, it’s as if time stopped. But in reality it went by faster than light you complained to yourself. Sulking you picked up your stuff.

He walked you to the door and you walked out “till next class”, he said

Looking back, you wanted to take a picture of this exact moment. His cute smile and the way he stood at the door. Little did you know this exact moment, was engraved in your brain, you just had to wait more time till you realized this night would be the night you always come back to thinking about him.

“Till next class”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors note: I meeaannnn if y’all want more ain’t nobody complaining. Just let me know.

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#ateez #atiny #ateez fanfic #kpop #fanfic #yunho #jeong yunho #yunho fluff #yunho x reader #yunho scenarios #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #pottery #ceramics #alternate universe #yunho teacher #teacher

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sunfloweroranges · 3 years

Text

𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕠𝕟 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕤𝕜𝕚𝕟

𝙰/𝙽

𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎!!

𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚌.

𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖.. ✨

𝙼𝚢 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚡𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚘 𝚒𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗!

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜:𝟸𝚔

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝, 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚜𝚑𝚞𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗, 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚖, 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜, 𝚋𝚒𝚐 𝚜𝚊𝚍

𝙴𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢!

𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

A shaky breath escaped their lips, with a small puff of steam, the air wasn’t that cold, it was so late though. The moon was far up on the star littered sky, but their eyes didn’t see them… Their hands fiddled with a ring of keys trying to see through the blur of tears which key to use, but when the keys fell from their hands so did the tears from their e/c eyes. Today was the worst, first the work, too many clients, almost every each one was yelling and angry at them for no reason or for a reason they didn’t control. Then the way back home, they caught a flat tire and stood on the busy highway for hours trying to find a way to change it just to find no internet signal while trying to look for youtube tutorials.

They did end up calling a roadwork help, of course it wasn’t cheap and they were questioning if their rent would be paid from what they had left. The workers weren’t nice either, all over rude and belittling. When y/n go back on road they had to drive another additional half an hour, because the mechanical shop was in the opposite direction. They placed the top of their hand to their mouth trying to hide the ugly cries, muffling them in process as well.. It was the small things that kept on piling up lately, from awful customers to even the smallest things, like takeout missing a piece of their order or even worse, messing up or missing part of their partners order, then to add salt to the bruise, they realized the mistakes or missing pieces halfway home. · · · · · ·

Y/n crouched to grab the keys, the concrete floor cold and disgustingly wet against their fingers, they quickly picked up the key, having a small raccoon charm hooked on it, the little plushy reminded them of their lover, the most gentle and kind person they knew, they shakily brushed the small plushy as clean as they could with their hands, while the tears blinded their vision between blinks. While quiet sobs left y/n, the door softly clicked and opened, Choso standing behind them with his messy hair and the tired eyes, that somehow looked livelier whenever he saw his beloved. His gaze looked around his eye height vision, where he expected their dearest to be, but, they weren’t there, rather, when his eyes slipped down he saw the shaking, crouched figure.

The familiar mess of h/c strands, shaking, in worse than ever disarrangement immediately flared an alarm in the towering male’s head, he crouched down and brushed his hands on their shoulders. “Y/n? Come inside, you’ll catch a cold if you stay out.” His words resonated like an echo in y/n’s mind, their head crowded with terrible thoughts like a horror ride with only a terrible end, but these words, the familiar voice they heard was like a sharp turn to a much calmer ‘ride’. They barely moved, all they did was tip forward, onto their knees, dirtying their pants from the wet concrete that felt unbelievably spiky on their legs.

Choso didn’t hesitate to catch the tilting lover in his arms, when these things happened he already knew what was going on. These shut downs happened very rarely for y/n, but when they did, all Choso could do was be patient and gentle towards his beloved, they talked about it ever since the first one happened years ago, when they barely met and y/n messed up their work project and had a lot of inside rumble piling up for a while. The male gently picked up y/n in his arms, with a grunt getting up and shutting the door with his foot almost stumbling to the ground but luckily catching balance.

Y/n kept on clinging to their keys and the raccoon plushy, even though their safe heaven was right there, holding them close, in these moments y/n curled up, didn’t speak, barely moved and would love to become invisible for the time being. These moment were like a last straw for their sanity and patience. From these moments they couldn’t come out themselves unharmed, but ever since Choso learned and grew to care for Y/n out of his own loving and kindness towards them, y/n survived these storms calmly and safely, even if the saving was from their own self. · · · · · ·

Choso knew one thing, silence was the worst that could happen now, it gave space, space that surprisingly quickly could be filled with the worst nightmares and most gruesome scenes by y/n’s troubled mind. The click of a kettle ensured to add a new noise, the blackette had already put on some soft playlist that y/n enjoyed, the rumble that slowly got louder was just one of the few factors that would help ground y/n. His beloved that was now curled up on the couch, waiting for Choso to appear again while ‘Leave me in Amsterdam’ played from the Bluetooth speaker on the table. Choso’s gaze softened seeing how Y/n, now drowning in his hoodie, that was still warm as he was wearing it just a moment ago, cradled the raccoon plush that Choso took off of the keys and promised to wash and dry tomorrow.

The water rumbled as its temperature rose, the pigtailed male walked up to the soft brown couch an crouched in front of y/n, gently placing his hands on their knees that were pulled close to their chest, his gaze, so soft and loving, so caring, everything he did towards y/n was as such. Choso gently brushed the thumb of his left hand against the thin material on their knee, y/n had to be helped, but got changed into more comfortable clothing and out of the dirty pants they had on. · · · · · ·

“A few years back, I remember you’ve asked me about my favorite flower… I asked you to guess, and you said Sunflowers. Truth be told, I didn’t have a favorite bloom, but ever since you’ve said that, I can’t help but look at the yellow pedals with a smile.” Choso’s voice as quiet, a gentle tone, reminiscing and confessing, another gentle tug onto Y/n’s mind to ground. A pair of e/c glassy orbs looked to the black ones, their darkness enticing, but somehow, keeping it shallow with their caring gaze, though blurred through the salty tears that balled in the corners of y/n’s eyes at these words.

A soft sob escaped their throat, their eyes feeling hot with tears and their nose runny as they curled into themselves more, their body tensing and limbs shaking as they clutched onto the small plushy, their knuckles turning white. Choso’s brows twitched in worry, just for a moment he thought he did something wrong, but seeing how y/n’s face changed just a bit, the tiniest way that their brows curled, he knew that they were just emotional, that these tears weren’t as sad, but rather touched the most vulnerable part of his lover.

The black haired male gently lifted on his feet and rested his knee on the edge of the couch, if he learned one thing, it was that even if these things that he did, seemed useless, they worked, bit by bit, slowly reeling in the loving and kind and sometimes too loud for most people’s liking y/n that reminded him a little of Yuji, that he knew and loved. · · · · · ·

The feeling of weight, of touch, of warmth.. The feeling of someone else, the feeling of Choso, it felt so foreign, so new and yet so safe and familiar. His arms have wrapped themselves around y/n, when they unveiled themselves from the curled up bean they’ve become because of crying. Their eyes burned and their nose did too from too much rubbing, but it didn’t matter, not when the soft lips kissed their eyelids soothingly, not when his kisses felt like the cure for any possible ache.

Y/n felt the tenseness of their body hurt, this tense shut façade that they subconsciously clawed at to hold up. Y/n was afraid, scared to show their vulnerability, shutting down, unable to speak nor show what was wrong. With Choso around things were different, with him they could slowly grow and show the weaknesses, say what upset them with no fear of judgment, or keep silent and be sure that he wouldn’t leave, he wouldn’t judge, that Choso would simply be there, support y/n in the ways he knew could help, even if just a little, even if it was just a millimeter pull away from the edge of a breakdown.

The next factor, the warm cup in their hands, the keychain raccoon hung off of their finger as they held the mug with two hands, they took a small sip, a simple tea, a warm beverage, not too sweet, not too bitter, the perfect tea just the way they liked it most. Choso knew just how to make it, and he also knew, after y/n told him, that drinking something, the warmer the better, makes their throat hurt less, as when they shut down their throat tensed and shut in a way speaking wasn’t possible, but drinking soothed it, not permanently, but definitely helped even just for a moment.

The soft breeze, cold, icy air making their breaths turn into small clouds before fading away. Y/n sighed shakily looking at the star littered sky, immediately spotting their favorite, orions belt. Choso took Y/n out, on the roof of their apartment complex, the sky looked so beautiful, here where the streetlamps didn’t work, here where the area was pitch black, the stars looked so bright, the milky way stretching across the sparkling roof.. Y/n hid their hands withing the long sleeves of the hoodie, slowly, the cold air grounded them, the smell of ground, of the nearby forest, of the world, cold, but refreshing, like a breath of life into the shell of their mortal body.

Choso looked to his beloved, his arms wrapped around them as he sat on the edge of the roof with an old blanket under them to keep them separated from sickly cold concrete of the roof. His dark eyes reflected the stars, but y/n’s showed him the most hidden and breathtaking galaxies, his hand gently resting under the dark hoodie y/n cuddle into, gently pulling the h/c figure close his fingers mindlessly mapped out the beauty marks on their side, he knew all of them, where each one was embedded into the vast universe of y/n’s skin.

He knew they would sometimes feel insecure, loose grounding, shut down, or have a bad day overall, but these moments just helped him prove y/n that truly, he wasn’t going anywhere, especially not away from the one he loved most. Y/n sniffled again, this pulled Choso out of his thoughts and mindless staring into the sky, his hand didn’t waver as he connected the small constellations on y/n’s skin “The Sky herself, is envious of The Constellations on Your skin”

With these words the sobs softly began again, but this time, y/n leaned into the awaiting embrace of the dark haired male, he didn’t expect it, he didn’t expect anything from y/n, not even letting him care for them. This time like many others, y/n managed to surprise him. Three soft squeezes onto his shoulder. That’s all it took for him to remember their little codeword, causing a gentle smile to break out onto his lips he buried his face into y/n’s hair and whisper, where no one else could hear, where the sky herself was watching them from above…“I love you too…”

· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

@ryosmne @love-amihan @falling4fandoms ||if youd like to be added to the tag list, comment, send an ask or a dm :))

#𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕗𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕣𝔹𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕣𝕪ℂ𝕚𝕥𝕣𝕦𝕤𝔽𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕤 #choso kamo x reader #choso x reader #kamo choso #jjk x reader #choso kamo jjk #choso jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #choso fluff #choso x nb! reader #nb reader

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skateboarding-poet · 3 years

Text

His pink ukulele

Summary: Sakuya plays the ukulele. He also appreciates what the ukulele brought into his life.

The rain was hitting the warm concrete and the garden in the courtyard with small drops of water. Above the dorm building, the sky was filled with gray clouds, hiding away the usual summer sun.

It wasn't the type of weather people usually liked to see while they were outside. Yet, Sakuya was outside, taking in the calming sign with a dreamy smile on his face.

His body was sheltered from the rain, but his mind was focused only on it. The sound of the rain droplets meeting the ground, the sight of the rain wetting the usually dry outside, the smell of the wet concrete, they all had the honor of having Sakuya's entire attention.

He had no idea how much he sat outside and stared at the scenery, but his mind finally walked away from the daze as if someone snapped their fingers next to his ear. Suddenly, he remembered why he went outside in the first place.

Sakuya carefully held the ukulele in his hands while he took out the cover, and the sound of the zipper of the cover touching the strings of the small instrument echoed melodically. He stared at the pink instrument in his hands, a small smile blossoming on his face as he remembered the day when he received it.

He could remember the awe he felt when he saw Itaru holding the ukulele, his hands seeming a little too big for the small instrument.

"Wow, Itaru-san, is that a-"

Sakuya didn't even get to finish his question, because Citron jumped right into the conversation that barely started. "It's an ukulele! It's really small, isn't it?"

Sakuya couldn't help but agree. He's always wanted owning one, playing one, but he would've been content just with seeing one.

"Is it yours?" Sakuya asked. Itaru had a cunning smile on his face, the kind of smile he had when he was planning something.

"Itaru's appearance doesn't work with his appearance," Masumi answered before Itaru could, and his words made his fellow troupe member waver just a little. "But the director... she'd look so cute, playing an ukulele..." "Itaru is more like a mysterious guitarist from a cool band!" Citron added, not allowing Masumi's train of thoughts to take over the conversation. "Hey, this is not why we're here..." Tsuzuru sighed, trying to get his troupemates to focus on... whatever they were doing.

"Why do you have it, then? The ukulele." Sakuya said, catching the attention of his troupe, much to Tsuzuru's relief. Itaru's smile was on his face again, and it made Sakuya confused.

"It's yours," Masumi finally said, as direct as ever.

Sakuya's eyes widened slowly, while they were looking only at the instrument he'd wished to hold for years. A few moments passed silently, the Spring Troupe allowing the leader to process the words.

Citron took the instrument from Itaru’s hands and slowly approached Sakuya, carefully holding the ukulele’s body. But, the closer he got, the more blurry he became.

And then, a sob escaped his lips, and another, and another.

One of them, probably Tsuzuru, put his hand on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. Citron gave Sakuya the instrument, smiling kindly at him.

The body and the neck were warm, probably from how Itaru held it in his hands. The color was a pastel pink, his favorite color. He felt a small paper stuck at the back on the instrument and, when he turned it around, he found a small piece of paper with the signature of all of the Spring Troupe members, and a message saying “Thank you for being our great leader”. Sakuya ran his fingers over the paper, staring at it intensively. He felt his heart swell with emotion, bursting with warm feelings all over his body. The tears in his eyes were warm, and his face felt hot. Wiping a few tears away from his eyes and cheeks, he gave everyone a huge, grateful smile, followed by a watery "Thank you!".

Sakuya plucked every string, wincing at the flat sound each of them made. He has been particularly busy with the mixed performances MANKAI Company has been delivering lately, so his ukulele has been patiently waiting for him to remember that he had left it on his table. However, even if Sakuya didn't get to play it as often as it used to, the instrument still served as a daily reminder for the Spring Troupe leader to smile, and that people cared about him very deeply.

He started tuning the instrument by rotating the pegs one by one, humming contently when the sounds matched the ones he spend so much time learning with the help of his roommate.

“Okay, Sakuya,” his roommate said, bringing his laptop to the table in their room. The laptop had a MeTube tab open at a video titled “Ukulele playing for beginners”. He pointed at the seat right next to the laptop

“I want to learn how to play the ukulele! ” Citron declared. “So, we will learn together!”

Sakuya was surprised by what his roommate just said, but it all made sense when he saw him grab a very old looking ukulele from somewhere inside his chest. Sakuya gasped quietly. “Where did you get the ukulele?”

“In my country, it is a requiem to know how to play the ukulele, since it is the national instruments played at birthdays!”

“I think you meant requirement...”

“Yes, that!”

“...Wait. If it’s a requirement to play the ukulele, then why do you not know how to-”

“Let’s take a seat and learn, Sakuya!“

“But-”

“I’m pressing play!”

The person in the video started describing each part of the ukulele, from the body, to the pegs. When they got to the tuning part, both of them tuned their instruments to the best of their abilities. Before they moved on to the strings, Citron paused the video.

“Your A string is a little sharp, Sakuya.”

Sakuya looked down on his instrument, and pulled the A string, but it didn’t sound off to him. “Really? Are you sure?”

“Yes. Try loosening the string with the peg.”

Sakuya did as he was told (well, he tried, but the first time he tightened the string instead and the sound was considerably sharper than before) and, with his second try, he won the aproval of his roommate, who pressed play once more.

Every few minutes, Citron stopped the video and helped Sakuya with small things he didn’t even know were being done wrong, as if they were usual, rookie mistakes that Citron was aware of and knew how to correct. The more they went on, the more convinced Sakuya was that his roommate knew how to play, after all. However, he didn’t say anything, since it felt like Citron knew Sakuya caught on his little lie.

By the end of the tutorial, Sakuya’s fingers were hurting, and the tips of his fingers had the shape of the strings imprinted on them, but he was more content than he thought he would be. The quality of the sound he was creating seemed to get better with every chord he played, and he even learned the very simple tune of “You Are My Sunshine”. But, the best part was the look of content and pride on Citron’s face.

“You learned so much today, Sakuya! Congratulation!”

“It’s all thanks to you, Citron-san!”

It’s been more than a year since then, and now Sakuya was more than able to tune the instrument by ear. He took a seat on the ground and hummed to himself. “Hmm, let’s see if I remember how it goes...”

He started playing “You Are My Sunshine” to the little audience that he had: the rain, the chairs, the cherry blossom tree in the courtyard, or whoever happened to pass by but didn’t dare to interrupt him. The melodic sounds of the ukulele, occasionally accompanied by his own humming, blended with the calm of the sight in front of him. He didn’t know how many times he repeated the tune, but the rain was restlessly applauding his little show, which made Sakuya smile.

His little concert wasn’t over, however, since he started playing other songs that he knew, like “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star”, “Three Little Birds”, or random pop songs he heard of from Taichi and Kazunari.

Ah, yes, Sakuya thought, Taichi-kun always gives me nice song suggestions. He always seems so eager to listen to me play...

Sakuya’s face was getting warmer, and his cheeks were being decorated with a light shade of pink. Taichi reminded him of one and one song only...

A minor, D minor, G seventh, C major, F major, D minor, E seventh, A minor, A seventh...

Sakuya named all the chords he was playing in his head, the chords that, combined together, recreated the song “Fly Me To The Moon”. His occasional hums became almost words that were following the tune with the help of Sakuya’s gentle and warm voice. The feelings he was experiencing were making themselves known to the outside through the little moments when Sakuya’s voice shook slightly with emotion.

The first time Sakuya played this song in front of someone, it was when he played it in front of Tenma and Taichi, who have been pleading Sakuya to let them hear him play at least one song. Well, Taichi used to plead more, but Tenma’s blushing face whenever he was asked about it proved he was just as interested in hearing him play as much as Taichi.

Back then, his voice didn’t shake only because of his affection slipping through, but also because of his nervousness. It was the first time he played the ukulele to anyone outside on his troupe, and he wanted to impress the two boys that he loved, who were sitting right in front of him, listening to his performance attentively.

Taichi’s eyes were wide open and his mouth slightly agape, sucking in every movement, every sound, every nervous smile thrown his way that he always reciprocated a second too late. Tenma’s eyes were closed, his mind probably far away, somewhere at a place where only the three of them existed peacefully.

The song ended, and Sakuya took his hand away from the body, holding the ukulele with the other hand by the neck. After a few moments of silence passed, Taichi closed his mouth, a huge smile blossoming on his face, and he launched himself forward, hugging Sakuya tightly.

“Sakkun, that was amazing!” Taichi gushed, his grip on his boyfriend tight. Sakuya burst into laughter, all of his nervousness being melted away by Taichi’s touch.

“Thanks, Taichi-kun! I’m glad you enjoyed it!” he replied, and turned his head towards Tenma, who seemed like he just came back to reality from whatever dream world he went off to.

“It was beautiful” was all he got to say. Taichi stretched his hand out to Tenma and grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him into a group hug.

“If you guys get any more talented, my heart will burts!” Taichi joked, hugging his partners a little bit tighter.

“Prepare for your heart to burst, then, ‘cause we won’t stop anytime soon,” Tenma replied, making Sakuya laugh.

When Sakuya’s thoughts came back to the present, he finally noticed the two pair of eyes that were watching him with interest.

One of his favorite audiences, Tenma and Taichi, were watching him, patiently waiting to be noticed. Sakuya’s eyes met theirs, and they smiled at him.

“Felt like having a little concert all by yourself?” Tenma asked, and he stretched an arm towards Sakuya to help him get up.

“Kind of,” Sakuya laughed nervously. He took Tenma’s hand, and his fellow troupe leader lifted him up with relative ease. “I noticed that it was raining, so I suddenly got the idea to play some songs here.”

“But, Sakkun, it stopped raining fifteen minutes ago,” Taichi observed.

“Wait, really?” Sakuya turned his head towards the courtyard, and Taichi was right: the earth was wet, the concrete was still a darker color due to the water, but the rain was no more. Not even the clouds were up in the sky, they were replaced by the orange evening sun.

“Bet you caused the rain to stop,” Taichi said, “your smile is always so sunshine-y that it brings the sun out even in the darkest days!” Taichi’s comment brought a small blush to Sakuya’s face.

“Now that the weather cleared up,” Tenma began, “it seems like it’s a perfect time to go out and do some street acts. What do you say?”

“Aw, nice thinking, Ten-chan! Of course I’d like to perform some street acts with you two!” Taichi replied. “Right, Sakkun?”

“You’re right,” Sakuya agreed. “I just need to leave this in my room, and I’ll come with you too. I’ll be back in a moment!”

“Sure, we’ll wait at the entrance.” Tenma said.

Sakuya opened the door for his room and went inside, noticing Citron wasn’t there. He walked to the table in the middle of the room, where he carefully put the instrument cover. After carefully putting it over the instrument and closing the zipper, he headed to the door and, right as he was about to turn the doorknob, he glanced back at the pink ukulele, in its pink cover, sitting on the table. Even the sight of it made Sakuya think of all the good things it managed to bring into his life.

Maybe it wasn’t wrong to think that the ukulele was a representation of his dreams of being an actor. Back then, they were only things that Sakuya convinced himself it was okay to dream about. But now that they were in his life, they were one more reason to wake up with a smile on his face, one more reason to be happy every day, one more reason to be grateful of what he was given.

Sakuya gave it one more glance before he walked out of the room and closed the door.

#a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!#sakuya sakuma #citron #masumi usui #tsuzuru minagi #itaru chigasaki #tenma sumeragi #taichi nanao #sakutaiten #bcs why would y'all expect anything else from me lmao #autumn writes ig

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janeofcakes · 3 years

Text

Soulmates: How John Met Sherlock...Again

Here it is, my friends! I have so much to say, but I’ll just give you the summary instead. I hope you like it!

Ten years after John Watson left with Mary for parts unknown, he returns to London with his daughter in tow to take over a friend's practice. He does not know what became of his best friend and, as much as he may want to see him, he resolves to make no effort to do so. Will he cross paths with Sherlock Holmes again and what will happen if he does?

_________________

Chapter 1

Gracie Watson stands stock-still next to her new teacher’s desk, a backpack slung over her shoulders. She clutches to her chest the school books that were given to her in the main office. Her blue eyes briefly dart around the room from posters to windows before scanning the actual faces of the third grade classmates she has yet to meet. Squeezing the books tighter, she leans back a fraction and turns her head to look back at the classroom door where her father stands with the principal. He smiles genuinely in encouragement and waves, knowing the door is cracked only enough for Gracie and Mrs. Jennings to see. The corner of Gracie’s mouth curls up as he mouths ‘I love you’ and the door closes slowly. Gracie instantly feels the pang of nerves that had loosened winding up into a tight ball in the pit of her stomach again.

“Class,” Mrs. Jennings says from behind her, “this is Grace. She’ll be joining us for the rest of the year. She has moved here from Bath, yes?”

Gracie blinks and looks back at the cheerful woman stepping to stand beside her. A quick flash of panic and adrenaline surge through her body, but it does not show on her face as she tamps it down quickly. Watsons are brave, she reminds herself as she straightens her spine and pulls her shoulders back slightly.

“Yes, Mrs. Jennings,” Gracie’s voice is confident now. “I haven’t been to London before. This is my first time.”

“Oh my, you are in for a treat,” the teacher smiles, her eyes sparkling. “There are a lot of things to see and places to go. Has your father been here before?”

“Yes, he lived here a long time ago,” Gracie answers respectfully.

“He’ll know his way around then, won’t he?” Mrs. Jennings glances at the clock as Gracie nods and then meets her eyes. “We’ll make a little time to introduce ourselves before lunch.”

Mrs. Jennings puts a reassuring hand on Gracie’s shoulder and looks at the twenty-one eight year-olds sitting by twos in three lines before them. The teacher nods at the right side of the room and gives Gracie a warm smile. Gracie feels the knot in her stomach loosen a skosh and the muscles under Mrs. Jennings’ warm hand relax slightly. She has a good feeling about this teacher.

“Why don’t you sit next to Olivia?” Mrs. Jennings gestures with her other hand.

Gracie swallows hard and turns to look at the other students again. They stare back with curious eyes and dull expressions. Some of them look like they are mulling over how best to tease her and make her life miserable, while others wear shy half-smiles. Only one girl sitting alone at one of the wide two-person desks in the back of the room appears genuinely interested, bordering on excited, to meet Gracie.

“Raise your hand, would you, Olivia?” Mrs. Jennings asks. The girl’s arm shoots up before the words are out of the teacher’s mouth. Gracie feels a soft pressure on her shoulder, a nudge of guidance as Mrs. Jennings continues: “Thank you. Go on and have a seat, Grace.”

Gracie nods and begins walking down the aisle. Under normal circumstances she might glance to and fro to see the faces of her new classmates, but she cannot tear her eyes away from the girl called Olivia. Her hand is still raised high in spite of the fact that Gracie knows exactly where she is headed, and her eyes sparkle as they watch Gracie with unwavering focus. They are oddly colored eyes; mostly grey, but they look blue too or maybe green. It is like they change from one to the other with every step closer. Olivia’s skin is as pale as Gracie has ever seen and she wonders if this girl ever goes outside for any length of time. It is made even lighter by Olivia’s dark brown hair pulled back with wisps of escaped curls around her face.

The closer Gracie gets to Olivia, the more she seems to like her. Gracie is good at making friends and was well-liked at her old school. Ever-confident, she typically throws herself into it, greeting new kids when they start. However, this situation is vastly different and Gracie has been ill at ease since the day before. She has never been the new kid in school and honestly never thought she would be. She entered into this school and its halls and this classroom with a great degree of apprehension, in spite of her father and the principal’s assurances. She had put on a brave face and talked herself into believing she felt it, but now, this very minute, slowly approaching Olivia, she finally feels like herself. Olivia has not the look of someone who is staring curiously at a stranger, but of someone seeing a friend who has not been back in ages. Her glittery grey eyes, rosy cheeks and wide, closed-lipped smile tell of genuine intrigue. She seems absolutely thrilled to have Gracie in the seat beside her.

Gracie’s lips curve up as she places her books on the desk and sits. Olivia lowers her hand and gives her new deskmate a friendly nod. Gracie’s smile grows as she leans away to plop her backpack on the floor.

“Perfect. Welcome, Grace,” Mrs. Jennings declares from the front of the room. She takes up position in front of the white board and speaks in a more serious tone. “Everyone get out your math workbooks to page 53. Did they give you all the books you need in the office, Grace?”

“Yes, Mrs. Jennings,” Gracie answers, glancing at the stack on her desk.

“Excellent,” Mrs. Jennings smiles and then turns to the board to write an equation. Gracie starts to lean down again to fetch a pencil from her bag only to see pale fingers holding a bright blue one over the workbook. Her eyes follow the arm and train on the girl next to her.

“Hi. You can call me Olive,” Olivia whispers with a grin.

Taking the pencil with a slow smile on her lips, Gracie thanks her and opens the workbook. Just as Mrs. Jennings turns back to the class and begins speaking, Gracie throws one last glance Olivia’s way.

“Call me Gracie.”

***

The lunchroom is packed with students from grades three through six. Some stand in line joking and holding trays for the school lunch while others head for seats with their friends. The room is alive with movement and noise, but it is merely a low din in the ears of Gracie Watson where she sits alone and stares at a note her father slipped into her lunch bag. It was there between an orange and the sandwich she had made herself the night before.

See, you’re having a great day! XX Daddy

Gracie smiles to herself as she reads it again. He even slowed the pen to make his messy doctor’s scrawl legible. The two of them had discussed the disadvantages of cursive and importance of making letters look like actual letters before. Gracie’s father found them so amusing and always chuckled his way through her tutorials, but how were patients to get the right medicine if no one could read his writing?

Gracie reads the note again and glances around the room, unable to keep from feeling a little sad. There had not been much time to talk to any of the kids in her class that morning. Mrs. Jennings taught lessons and had some one on one time with Gracie while the other kids did school work. She wanted to determine Gracie’s reading level quickly so she would be in the right group that afternoon. No one had spared Gracie a second glance until a few minutes before lunch when Mrs. Jennings had everyone introduce themselves. Gracie could tell right away that Peter and William liked to tease. She also knew in a glance that Josie and Hildie would not be her biggest fans, nor would she like them. Gracie had barely heard all their names before they were shuffled off to lunch. Truth be told, Olive was the only person to have paid her any mind and even that was limited. You couldn’t really talk when the teacher was telling you the principles of multiplication. Still, Olive has seemed keen to know Gracie. Yet here she is, sitting at a small table all alone with nothing but her lunch and a note from her father.

She drops her eyes back to the paper when Josie meets her gaze and wrinkles her nose. The last thing Gracie wants to deal with right now is sass. Why is it so much easier to become the target of a ponce than to find a friend when you’re the new kid?

Gracie sighs and takes a bite from her sandwich as someone stops in front of her table. Gracie closes her eyes, steeling herself for battle. Obviously, Josie has decided she may as well start being a pain as soon as possible. Maybe not such a good day after all. Gracie swallows thickly and looks up slowly. To her surprise, she is met with a grin instead of a sneer.

“Hi,” Olive chirps. She holds a lunch bag in one hand and a small carton of milk in the other. “Can I sit with you?”

“Uh...yeah,” Gracie replies, more than a little taken aback. “Sure.”

Olive’s face brightens and she moves to sit, placing her lunch bag and drink on the table. Gracie quickly crumples up the note in her hands and shoves it in her pocket. Watching as Olive begins removing food from her bag and setting it on the table, Gracie takes a bite of sandwich and chews. She has to wonder about this girl. It seems natural that she be curious about the new kid, but no one else is and Olive is clearly going out of her way to talk to Gracie. Is this some sort of trick? Gracie tilts her head and considers the dark-haired girl before her.

“Want some soup?” Olive asks, opening a green thermos. “It’s the best potato soup ever. My godmother made it.”

“Oh, no thanks. I’m good,” Gracie assures her and takes another bite.

“Please yourself,” Olive blows on the milky-colored liquid in her spoon before it disappears in her mouth. Then she closes her eyes and shakes her head minutely in appreciation. Gracie lets a small smile of genuine amusement flash across her lips. Olive mirrors the look when her eyes open with flecks of green this time.

“So you’re from Bath,” Olive states, scooping up some more soup.

“Yeah, I’ve always lived there,” Gracie says around a mouthful of sandwich, “but my dad used to live here.”

“So you said,” Olive blows on the full spoon. “Have you seen the Roman baths?”

“Oh, yeah. Dad took me every year since I was four,” Gracie bubbled. “They’re fun and Dad knows all about how they were made and why they built them.”

“That’s awesome! I’d love to hear about that,” Olive exclaims, popping her spoon into her mouth. “My dad knows stuff too. He took me to Stonehenge and told me all about it.”

“Wow!” Gracie’s eyes widen in awe. “Did you climb on the rocks?”

“No,” Olive grumbles and rolls her eyes. “They won’t let you.”

“Aw,” Gracie groans, disappointed. “They don’t let you swim in the baths either.”

“But they’re baths!” Olive blinks in disbelief.

“I know, right,” Gracie declares. “That’s exactly what I told Dad.”

Olive giggles and the noise is infectious. Gracie snickers as she picks up her own carton of milk and takes a drink. Olive grabs a dinner roll from her bag and takes a bite.

“So why did you move here?” she asks as she chews. Gracie sets down her drink and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Dad’s a doctor and he has this friend who sees patients here,” Gracie explains.

“At St. Bart’s Hospital?” Olive asks. “My dad goes there a lot.”

“No,” Gracie wrinkles her brow trying to remember the word her father had used. “He has a practical or a pragmatic.”

“His own practice?” Olive offers between bites of roll and soup.

“Yeah, practice. That’s what he called it,” Gracie says, pointing at Olive and popping the last of her sandwich in her mouth. “Anyway, he’s retiring and gave Dad his practice. So we moved here. Dad came first and found our flat. He started working and came home on weekends for a while before we moved.”

“Really?” Olive wondered. “But who was with you? Do you have a godmother too?”

“No, but Dad has a lot of friends who watched me,” Gracie tells her.

“Oh, because he’s a doctor. Lots of people would know him. Obvious,” Olive nods and takes a bite of soup, gesturing with the spoon once it’s empty again. She leans her elbow on the table. “But why didn’t you both just move at the same time?”

“Dad wanted to make sure he liked the new job first,” Gracie shrugs. “Didn’t want me to have to change schools until he was sure he’d want to stay here.”

“Makes sense,” Olive nods thoughtfully.

“What about your dad?” Gracie asks, beginning to peel her orange. “What does he do? Is he a doctor too?”

“Nope,” Olive places her spoon on the table and straightens her spine proudly. “He’s a Consulting Detective. The only one. He invented it.”

“Oh,” Gracie frowns as she places a piece of rind on her napkin, “but you said he works at a hospital.”

“He does experiments for cases at St. Bart’s,” Olive clarifies, “and looks at bodies when there’s a murder.”

Gracie stops peeling and her mouth drops open. She stares at Olive with wide eyes.

“Murder?”

“He solves them all the time,” Olive nods with sparkling eyes. “And robberies and people who go missing and everything. He works with the police.”

“Wow,” Gracie breathes. “Dad tells me stories about a detective and his friend who solve crimes together. Does your dad tell you about his cases?”

“Sometimes,” Olive answers, putting the thermos and spoon back in her bag. “He lets me watch his experiments when he’s on a case. We do them together when it’s in between.”

“That sounds fun,” Gracie beams and offers an orange slice. Olive grins and takes it.

“Thanks,” she pops it into her mouth and chews. “It is. I love it.”

“So have you always lived in London?” Gracie asks, bringing an orange slice to her lips. Olive nods.

“Dad loves London. I don’t think he’d live anywhere else,” she reflects and takes another slice when Gracie offers.

Gracie squints and considers this. If Olive’s dad likes London so much maybe Gracie’s feels the same way. He used to live here, after all. She is about to ask her new friend more about the city when a gruff voice brings her thoughts to a screeching halt.

“Afternoon, Holmes,” an unpleasant-looking girl sneers as she approaches their table.

Gracie’s head snaps to face her with surprise and wariness in her eyes. The redhead has two other girls in toe and all wear snide expressions. They stop before the table and stare menacingly, the leader with her hands on her hips. Gracie swallows slowly and takes in the scene. The girls have to be older than she and Olive. They are all at least a foot taller than Gracie and have a few inches on Olive as well. They look as mean as any bully at Gracie’s old school. She grimaces. What could she have possibly done to get on their bad side so quickly? Maybe they go after all the new kids, but how do they even know about her and how on earth could they know her middle name?

Gracie opens her mouth to speak, but Olive beats her to it.

“Jones,” Olive says disdainfully by way of greeting as she turns her head to look up at the girl. “They let you out of the dunce chair for lunch? I suppose everyone deserves a break.”

Gracie turns her now shocked gaze on Olive, who stares coolly at the tall redhead called Jones. What is she doing? Jones obviously means business and there’s no reason for Olive to get involved. Antagonizing this kid and her friends seems like the last thing either of them should do. Gracie’s eyes dart back to Jones to see her cold glare focused solely on Olive and it strikes her that Jones has not actually spared her a glance. She was already boring a hole in Olive’s skull when she and her gang, because that’s the only word for it, walked up to their table. Gracie’s eyes shift back to Olive curiously.

“Funny,” Jones says flatly, setting her hips and leaning her weight to her right foot. “I’m surprised to see you here, Holmes. I told you I didn’t want to see your face in here again only yesterday.”

“This is the lunch room,” Olive’s tone does nothing less than tell Jones what an idiot she is and Gracie wants to face palm.”It’s called that for a reason. I would’ve thought you’d pick that up by grade six.”

“Now listen, you little…” Jones launches herself forward with fury in her eyes. One hand is already a fist pulling back and the other reaches for Olive, who hasn’t even flinched. Gracie is out of her seat and in between them before Jones can touch the collar of Olive’s school uniform.

“Stop right there,” Gracie mutters in a threatening tone.

Jones takes a small step back and looks down her nose at Gracie, a cruel smirk on her face.

“Lookie what we have here,” Jones’ lip curls in amusement. “Holmes has a little friend.”

The other girls laugh and Gracie feels a tug on her elbow, no doubt Olive trying to steer her out of the way. Gracie ignores the attempt, standing taller and furrowing her brow.

“You’re new around here, aren’t you, kid?” Jones asks. “If you weren’t, you’d know nobody crosses me. Why don’t you just turn around and get right back on outta here. I’ll give you a pass this time.”

“Not until you shut your mouth and go back where you came from,” Gracie says in a low voice. “Leave my friends alone.”

“Or what?” Jones scoffs, stepping close to Gracie. “What are you gonna do, half-pint?”

Gracie’s hands clench into fists, which does not escape Jones’ attention. The tall girl laughs and turns her head slightly for a remark over her shoulder to her cohorts. Gracie snaps her left fist forward, catching Jones right on the jaw and sending her stumbling backwards into her friends. The three girls stare at Gracie in shock and she glares back. Olive’s hand is still touching Gracie’s elbow, but is rigid and still. Gracie wants to glance around the room to make sure none of the lunch monitors saw, but she will not break her death glare with Jones. Her father would never take his eyes off the enemy.

“Take your friends and go,” Gracie growls. “You answer to me if you come back.”

Jones regains her composure and yanks her arms away from the very friends who kept her from falling on her ass. Her hands are clenched in rage and she looks like she plans to rip into Gracie at any moment, but one of the other girls grabs her arm in warning before she can make a single move. Too many of the other kids in the lunchroom are watching now. Not to mention one of the monitors, who obviously missed the punch, seems to have taken an interest as well.

“This isn’t over,” Jones says under her breath. She presses her lips together hard, turns and stalks away with her friends hot on her heels.

Gracie lets her muscles relax minutely as she watches their retreating backs, her fists loosening. Her eyes dart around the room nervously, but she sees only bright eyes of acknowledgement and a few delighted nods. When she turns back to Olive, her friend is incredulous. She is about to start in on what looks to be a lecture on self-preservation and lunchroom politics when the interested monitor appears at her side.

“Everything all right, Olive?” the older woman asks in a significantly less posh accent.

“Yes, Mz. Chapel, it’s fine,” Olive answers in a friendly voice.

“I don’t know why those three are always giving you trouble,” Miss Chapel shakes her head, looking after Jones and her lackeys.

“Simple minds, Mz. Chapel, simple minds,” Olive jokes and the woman lets out a deep, hearty laugh.

“Now that’s an understatement,” Miss Chapel chuckles. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Gracie. She’s new in my class,” Olive bubbles excitedly. “This is her first day.”

“Well, welcome, Gracie,” Miss Chapel smiles warmly and nods. “Don’t let those three sour your day.”

“Oh, I won’t,” Gracie assures her. She looks at the woman’s rosy cheeks and smiling eyes and likes her immediately. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

“Oh, dear. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad,” Miss Chapel remarks with concern in her voice as she scans the room and sees two boys who must look suspicious. “You’ll have to fill me in later. Duty calls. Bye, Olive.”

“Bye, Mz. Chapel,” Olive calls and then grabs hold of Gracie’s arm, pulling her close.

“Hey!” Gracie says irritably, but Olive interrupts at a mile a minute.

“What the heck was that? Are you crazy? Jones is the biggest bully in school.”

“You didn’t seem all that scared of her,” Gracie shoots back. “I just followed your example.”

“And if I jumped off a building, would you follow me then too?” Olive demands in exasperation.

“God, no,” Gracie blurts. “I’m not a complete idiot.”

Gracie is sure Olive had been about to say something, but she goes silent and stares for a moment instead. Her expression is unreadable and Gracie cocks an expectant brow. She is not about to be scolded by someone who knowingly goaded a bully. Olive finally opens her mouth, but what comes out is a burst of a giggle. Gracie’s eyes widen as Olive continues laughing, a quite undignified snort punctuating it, and Gracie dissolves into giggles as well. They sink down into their seats again when something occurs to Gracie.

“Your surname is Holmes?” she asks almost before her bum is on the seat. It can’t be. It’s too much of a coincidence, but is the only explanation for Jones calling Olive by the name.

“Holmes with an L, yes,” Olive nods once.

Gracie watches with her brow furrowed as Olive plucks up an orange slice and pops it into her mouth, giving the blonde a stern look.

“Seriously, that was really stupid,” she says. A drop of juice slips down her chin and she wipes at it.

“Hmph,” Gracie harrumphs, putting aside her wonder and shoving a slice in her own mouth. “She was ready to knock you on your butt. You should be thanking me.”

“No, really, Gracie,” Olive leans forward in her chair and rests her arms on the table. Her grey-green eyes are intense, her face deadly serious. “Samantha Jones is not a good person to have as an enemy.”

“Real people don’t have enemies,” Gracie replies with a snort.

“Well, you’ve got one now,” Olive states gravely. “You still real?”

Gracie meets her eyes and swallows her orange slice. It starts out as a pointed stare, but both girls are laughing again in no time.

“I guess we’re in this together then,” Gracie quips. Olive watches her for a good minute, her face open and a grin shining brightly. The bell signalling the end of lunch sounds, but the two girls don’t move for a beat. Olive’s smile grows as she rises slowly. Gracie does the same, both grabbing food containers and shoving them into their bags as they get to their feet. Once they have gathered everything, the two girls stand to face each other with sober expressions. Olive tips her head toward the door where the other kids file out into the hallway.

“Once more into the breach,” she says with a sparkle in her eye. Gracie grins and they start off, but Olive pauses. “Gracie?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

***

Olive Holmes jumps out of the sleek black car that picks her up from school each day and drives her home. Her father hates asking his brother for anything, which is why Olive’s uncle arranged for it without consulting him. Her father conceded quickly, however. It is the safest way to get her to and from, especially considering his profession, and he would do absolutely anything for his daughter. Even put up with his pompous older brother.

Olive throws her school bag over her shoulder and slams the car door. Half turning to the building before her, she waves at the driver in the car window.

“Bye, Charlie,” she calls. “See you tomorrow.”

“Good evening, Miss Olive,” he replies and then watches her walk up to the building, digging in her bag for the key. When she opens the door, she walks headlong into one of the most delightful scents on earth. She closes her eyes and inhales contentedly, angling her face toward the open door of 221A. The woman inside is clearly making her famous meatloaf and has left her door open to draw Olive’s attention, which can only mean one thing. Olive’s father has a case on and will be home late tonight.

“Hello, dear,” Mrs. Hudson appears, drying her hands on a white dish towel. Olive flashes a warm smile and runs to the old woman, throwing her arms around her waist. “I thought I heard you come in. How was school?”

“Great!” Olive exclaims, pulling back and adjusting her bag. “Dad’s on a case?”

“Afraid so, dear. He wasn’t sure when he’d be home,” Mrs. Hudson tuts before smiling brightly. “But now you and I can have dinner and catch up.”

“I know! I can smell it,” Olive licks her lips. “It’s my favorite!”

“I know, dear,” Mrs. Hudson laughs. She smooths down Olive’s hair and brushes a curl from her forehead. “Would you like to help make the potatoes?”

“Can’t, Mrs. H.,” Olive replies with a shrug. “I have some homework first, but I’ll be done before dinner.”

“Homework?” Mrs. Hudson follows the girl to the stairs that lead up to the flat she shares with her father. The old woman wears a look of concern as she watches Olive begin to ascend. “That doesn’t sound like you. Is everything all right?”

“I didn’t do as much of it in class,” Olive explains. “I made a friend today. A best friend.”

“A best friend? Oh my, that’s exciting,” Mrs. Hudson beams. Olive is well-liked by her peers and will go to birthday parties and the like, but she does not interact with any outside of that. She has never really had an interest in it and has certainly never referred to anyone as a best friend before. Her obvious excitement speaks volumes. “You can tell me all about her over dinner.”

“Yes!” Olive grins. “I can’t wait! Her name is Gracie and she’s the best. She’s new in my class today and sits right by me.”

“Fantastic, dear,” Mrs. Hudson rests a hand on the banister and the other on her hip. “You run up and finish that homework and then we’ll talk all about it.”

“Ok,”Olive heads up the stairs again, calling back as she goes: “I’ll be down as soon as I’m done.”

---

“So how was your first day?” John Watson asks his daughter as he sets a glass of milk before her and sits at the dinner table. Gracie has just put a fork-full of rice in her mouth, but doesn’t let that stop her from answering.

“So good,” she says enthusiastically, two grains flipping out of her mouth and onto the table. John knows he should be reminding her not to talk with a full mouth, but her good humor is infectious and he is beyond pleased. She had been so nervous and trying not to show it when he left her at the school that morning. The principal had assured him they would do all they could to make the transition as smooth as possible, but that look in her eye when he last saw her had lingered in his mind all day as he attended to patients.

A grin spreads across John’s face as he picks up his own fork and spears a piece of chicken. Gracie slurps milk from her cup and places it back on the table. Her blue eyes twinkle over her milk mustache as she continues, her elation building with every word.

“I made a friend named Olive. We sit together in class and she ate with me at lunch too. We even played at recess,” Gracie speaks so quickly that John couldn’t get a word in if he tried. “She’s lived here all her life and told me lots of cool stuff about the city. Did you know there are lots of parks here?”

“Yes, I did,” John laughs, finally able to respond when she takes a breath and another bite of rice. “One of them is just up the street, you know.”

“It is?” Gracie gasps, her eyes wide with wonder.

“Yeah,” John chuckles. “We could go on the weekend if you like.”

“Yes, yes, yes! Let’s go right now!” Gracie cries, utterly ignoring the fact that it is 6:30 in the evening.

“Whoa. Hold on, Gracie,” John cautions, chewing a piece of chicken. “It’s too late and a school night to boot. We can go on Saturday.”

“Ok,” she replies, disappointed. She gets another fork-full of rice and slips it past her lips. The corners of John’s mouth curl and he takes pity.

“It’s only a few days away,” he consoles.

“Dad, it’s Monday,” Gracie says flatly.

“But it’s dinnertime and then bedtime. It’ll be Saturday before you know it,” John reminds her. “And you can find out more about your friend all week in the meantime.”

“That’s true,” Gracie considers thoughtfully.

---

“I made a best friend today, Dad,” Olive tells Sherlock Holmes as they pack her lunch together. She glances at the kitchen clock and reads 7:30, which doesn’t leave her much time before bed. She needs to talk fast if she wants to tell him all she’s learned about Gracie. His case, a double murder, had wrapped up faster than expected and he had walked into the entry way just as Olive was leaving Mrs. Hudson’s flat to go upstairs for a shower. As always, Olive had rushed to throw her arms around him in the biggest hug of all-time. Sherlock had chuckled and lifted her off her feet, making her once again rue the day when she would be too tall for him to do it. She was already tall and just kept growing. Two years ago when she was six, Olive had asked her father if he could do an experiment to slow it down.

“Why wouldn’t you want to grow up?” Sherlock had asked her.

“I want you to always pick me up and hug me,” she had told him in a very serious tone. “You’re growing up too and I’ll get too tall and heavy.”

Sherlock had laughed then and picked her up, so their eyes were even. He assured her that it would be a very long time before he grew that much. He also told her that there was no experiment to stop her from growing and she had cried.

She understands all of that now, of course. She is eight, in grade three and very smart. Incidentally, she has also read three of her father’s medical books from cover to cover in search of a way and there is none. She furrows her brow at the memory, but is drawn back to Sherlock, Gracie and her lunch quickly by the sound of her father’s voice.

“A best friend, eh?” Sherlock’s baritone thrums. “You’ve only just met her. Perhaps you should reserve judgement.”

“I don’t need to,” Olive replies decisively. “I can just tell.”

She meets Sherlock’s eyes as he looks at her skeptically. Olive knows he trusts her to make her own determinations. He has spent a lot of time teaching her all he knows about reading people and making deductions. She has never made any quite so quickly before, but Gracie is different. Olive can tell. Gracie is special.

“There was a well-worn copy of Nancy Drew and the Clue Crew #20, Treasure Trouble,” Olive begins as a sly smile spreads across her face. “She obviously likes to read and loves mysteries, like me. When she had the chance to unpack her school bag and organize her desk, there was a small purple notebook covered with stickers that she writes ideas and thoughts in. So she likes to write, examine and think things through carefully, like me. I think she even has a specific section in it where she’s writing a story. She also has a special pencil case for her writing utensils and one particular purple pencil seems to be her favorite. Like. Me.”

Olive pauses here to survey her father’s features as he gleams with pride. He tilts his head and looks at her thoughtfully.

“Based on the Nancy Drew, I’d wager she likes pirates too,” Sherlock comments with a light laugh in his tone. Olive’s eyes widen and she inhales dramatically.

“I thought so too!” she exclaims. “I’m going to ask her about it tomorrow.”

“Just remember to pay attention to Mrs. Jennings,” Sherlock reminds her as he puts a pear in the lunch bag. “You are there to learn, after all. Even if you know most of it already.”

“Obviously,” Olive snarks, shoving a pudding cup in the bag, Sherlock cocks a brow and looks at her with eyes that want an explanation. “May I? I want to share it with Gracie.”

“You may,” Sherlock answers after a moment’s hesitation. Olive grins and thanks him. They turn back to her sandwich, adding cheese and lettuce. “What did she have for breakfast?”

“Egg and toast,” Olive says quickly.

“Oh. Well, I can see why you like her now,” Sherlock teases.

“Dad, stop,” Olive scolds, but there is no bite to it. She wraps the sandwich and puts it in the bag as she continues: “She’s as smart as me. She knew all the answers in class almost as fast as I did and didn’t hesitate raising her hand.”

“Well, I’m convinced,” Sherlock grins and walks to the refrigerator with the lunch bag in one hand. He opens the door and places it inside. “Gracie sounds like the perfect best friend for you. Give me the cheese and things, will you?”

Olive picks up the container and a few other things. Stopping before him, she offers them up and he takes them one by one, adding to the shelves and swapping things around.

“You haven’t even heard the best part,” Olive tells him as she fetches more food stuffs from the counter. “The thing that makes her most like me.”

“There’s something else?” Sherlock questions. “Now this, I must know.”

Olive stops moving entirely and watches Sherlock as he closes the refrigerator door. He turns to her, ready to speak again, but the words die on his lips when he sees her face. Her eyes are soft, her expression the most sincere he has seen in a long time. Concern begins to cloud his own eyes and he opens his mouth, but she cuts him off.

“She loves her father more than anything,” Olive tells him in a hushed voice that loses none of its intensity by being lower in volume, “and she’s fiercely loyal.”

Sherlock swallows around the lump in his throat and holds out his arms, hands open. Olive immediately rushes into the waiting hug. They wrap their arms around each other, Olive pressing her cheek to Sherlock’s belly. He bends down to kiss the top of her head, sighing into her dark curls left untamed after the evening’s shower.

“I’m so glad you met her today, Olive,” he whispers softly. “She sounds wonderful, like just the right best friend for you.”

“Obviously,” Olives replies in her standard ‘Don’t be an idiot’ voice. All Holmeses have it. It’s a trademarked thing at this point. “She’s also either very brave...or very stupid.”

“Oh?” Why do you say that?” Sherlock’s brow crinkles in confusion and Olive pulls away to look at him. She wears a triumphant deduction face he recognizes from nearby windows and mirrors on his own cases. His lips curl up and he only just keeps a grin at bay.

“Jones and her minions started a row at lunch and she stood up to them,” Olive tells him smugly.

“Did she?” Sherlock lets the smile overtake his resolve.

“Yep,” Olive pops the P and giggles, “and then she…”

Sherlock’s brows raise in expectation when she stops and then lower in suspicion as he narrows his eyes. He knows that look. Olive is up to something. She hides her plots well at times, but has never been able to fool him for long. Sherlock turns his head slightly and studies his daughter.

“Olive,” he says slowly in a tone of warning. The girl bites her bottom lip and fidgets a bit before sighing in resignation.

“She punched Jones,” Olive tells him, watching apprehensively. “Right in the face.”

Sherlock’s mouth falls open in shock, his eyes widening tenfold. Completely overtaken by disbelief, his brain doesn’t tell his mouth to close or to speak and he stands gaping at his daughter.

“None of the teachers saw so she didn’t get in trouble,” Olive rushes on, looking nervous, “but some of the other kids did. Word gets around fast. Half the school was saying hi to her by the end of the day. Pretty good first day, eh?”

Olive is grinning now and just a bit smugly too. The initial surprise has worn off and Sherlock’s lips are quirking up again. He must meet this Gracie before too much time passes because he can tell his daughter will be by her side until the end of time if she has any say in it.

“Indeed,” Sherlock agrees wholeheartedly and then gives her a knowing look. “And what about you?”

Olive furrows her brow in confusion.

“Which do you believe based on the evidence?” he asks. “Is Gracie brave or stupid?”

Olive smiles again immediately and gives a little jump of excitement.

“Brave,” she declares with pride. “Gracie doesn’t have enemies. At least, not until today and she made the decision carefully. She didn’t just stumble in blind. She’s loyal to her dad and her friends. And fast too.”

“Yes,” Sherlock mutters as his mind begins to wander to a time when he knew someone like that. Olive watches his expression change and leans in a bit, closing her small hand around his long fingers.

“Did you ever have a best friend like Gracie?” Olive asks him in a soft voice. Sherlock’s eyes shift to her face, but he remains silent. “A best friend?”

Sherlock almost sighs. He has taught her too well. Olive is much too perceptive for an eight year old. She absorbs knowledge and masters it even faster than he did as a child, which isn’t really surprising. Like father, like daughter. What really amazes him are her innate abilities to unlock and understand sentiment, both the feelings of others and her own. With all that working against him, he knows he cannot hide the truth from her and braces himself to answer.

“I did once,” he tells her.

“Your man Friday?” Olive inquires with a warm tint to her voice.

“Yes,” Sherlock chuckles quietly. He has told Olive the stories of past cases and villains, and her favorites are the ones that include John. Sherlock has never mentioned him by name though. He does not know why exactly. Saying it out loud felt too close, too painful. So he borrowed a page from Robinson Crusoe and started referring to John as “my man, Friday”, Olive found it extremely amusing from day one.

“What happened to him?” Olive’s voice breaks Sherlock’s reverie and his gaze focuses in on her again. He smiles kindly as he places a hand upon her head and smooths down her long curls. Exactly what became of John Watson is the last thing Sherlock wants to think about right now.

“It’s getting late,” he says instead of answering her question. “Why don’t you brush your teeth and get up to bed? I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Okay,” Olive gives his hand a squeeze and bounds off down the hall. Sherlock watches her go, straightening his shoulders and resolving to not think about John Watson.

---

“See does get intah tubble,” Gracie tells John around her toothbrush. She spits in the sink and continues before starting on her teeth again. “Some girl in grade six, Olive said she’s her enemy, started bothering us at lunch and what does Olive do? Mouths off to her.”

John fixes her with a stern expression, a sinking feeling in his gut. While Gracie has never been called out for any incidents at school, John knows there have been a handful. He did not address them per se because they were always in defense of a friend or weaker child, but this is not the way to start anew in London.

“Gracie,” John says in a low tone, “what happened?”

“I told her to leave Olive alone or she’d answer to me,” Gracie shrugs and spits again. John looks at her expectantly, but she says nothing more.

“And…” John prompts. Gracie meets his eyes and heaves a sigh.

“I punched her,” she tells him in a pouty voice, knowing she will be on the receiving end of a lecture.

“Gracie!” John’s voice is loud and incredulous.

“I know I shouldn’t have, but she was going to flatten Olive. You always say it’s not okay to be a bully.”

“It isn’t, but I don’t want you in trouble on your first day,” John scolds.

“I’m not in trouble,” Gracie grows defensive and puts her hands on her hips, one hand still clutching the toothbrush. “No one but a few kids saw and they just told other kids. Lots of them are being really nice now. Fastest way I’ve ever made friends before.”

John considers this for a moment and runs a hand through his hair in resignation. It’s no less than he would’ve done for his best friend. Nothing he hadn’t done. He’d even done worse.

“Okay,” John sighs. He looks at Gracie’s reflection in the mirror as she continues cleaning her teeth. “Looking out for your friend…”

“Bess friend,” Gracie interrupts, the toothbrush mincing her words again. John nods hurriedly and rushes on to the point.

“...is all well and good, but fighting is not something you want to do,” John tells her firmly. “Get a teacher’s help next time. Do not take matters into your own hands again.”

Gracie spits one last time and meets his eyes in the reflection. She resists rolling them as she shifts her weight.

“All right,” Gracie full-on pouts now. She leans over the sink to rinse her mouth and then puts up her toothbrush, grabbing a hand towel to wipe her mouth.

“Thank you,” John says, already feeling relieved and yet, uneasy too. “Get into your pajamas and I’ll be there to tuck you in.”

---

“I can’t wait until school tomorrow! I have so many questions for Gracie,” Olive exclaims as she climbs into bed.

Sherlock snugs the covers under her chin and cannot help the smile blooming on his face. Olive has always had friends and loves unraveling the mysteries of new people, but has not been quite this excited about a single person before. Yes, Gracie is definitely an excellent addition to her life. That much is certain. Without having even met, Sherlock feels as though he knows her after everything he has learned from his perceptive daughter. More than that, young Gracie reminds him of a time in his life when he was at his happiest. He never thought he would have that again, but then Olive came along and everything changed back.

“I want to know more about Bath,” Olive is saying when Sherlock returns to the present. “That’s where she used to live. Can we go there one day and see the baths? Except Gracie says you can’t swim in them.”

“You can’t?” Sherlock feigns surprise and crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, that’s ridiculous.”

“That’s exactly what I said!” Olive tells him emphatically. As she recounts more of what she and Gracie spoke of throughout the day, Sherlock clicks on the bedside lamp and rises to turn off the overhead light. His little girl is still going a mile a minute when he sits down on her bed. “And I want to know more about her dad. He’s a doctor, you know. That’s why they moved here. He has a practice. Can we have a playdate?”

Now this is definitely a surprise. Never in her life, no matter how much she has enjoyed another child’s company, has Olive asked to have a playdate.

“We’ll have to see what her father says, but yes,” Sherlock tells her in a measured voice, watching as face grows even brighter.

“Oh, thank you, Daddy!” Olive sits up quickly and throws her arms around him.

“We still have to see what Gracie’s father says,” he reminds her, “and we need to get you to sleep. You have a big day ahead. Which book would you like?”

“Would you tell me one of your cases?” Olive asks hopefully as she lies back again. Sherlock eyes her with doubt as he brings the covers to her chin again.

“They aren’t really appropriate for bedtime,” he says and she shakes her head swiftly.

“It’s fine. It won’t scare me. I want one I’ve heard before,” Olive assures him. He cocks a brow, still questioning whether or not this is wise. “Just one. A Study in Pink? Please?”

Sherlock inhales sharply. Olive is thinking along the same lines as he. She has met a girl she believes will be her best friend for years to come and it has taken her mind right to the very moment Sherlock met his best friend. He lets out a long breath and his face softens.

“Of course, sweetie,” he says quietly. She perks up instantly and whispers thank you just before he begins.

“We met just outside to inquire about sharing this very flat when I got a text from Graham…”

“Greg,” Olive interrupts with a big grin on her face, knowing Sherlock is only teasing about not recalling the CDI’s name.

“Ah, yes,” Sherlock chuckles, gently tapping a fingertip to her nose. “Greg.”

---

“Gracie, you’ve talked non-stop since you got home,” John laughs, pulling back the quilt and sheet on his daughter’s bed. “You’re exhausted.”

“No, I’m not,” Gracie replies as defiantly as she can around a huge yawn. She stumbles to her bed and nearly face plants right into the pillow, but catches herself. John chuckles softly and pulls up the covers while she turns over slowly to look at him.

“I don’t think you can even stay awake for a story,” he remarks playfully, knowing she will deny this every day of the week and with one eye already closed.

“No! No, I’m awake,” Gracie insists, grabbing his hand with her smaller one. “Please tell me a story. You know I can’t sleep without one.”

That is patently untrue, but John just looks at his daughter fondly and brushes her fringe from her forehead.

“All right, sweet pea,” he concedes, his voice already taking on the gentle quality he reserves for bedtime. “Any requests?”

“The first one,” Gracie yawns again. “When they met.”

John leans back a bit to look at his sleepy girl. He had wondered if she would pick this one after meeting her new friend. Gracie told him absolutely everything she had learned about Olive today, as well as all she wanted to find out tomorrow. It was enough to make him wonder if they would pay attention to their lessons at all, and he said as much. Gracie assured him that they only talk when allowed, naturally and eye roll. John had just given her a knowing look and she promised to keep her word.

John brushes her hair from her face again and inhales deeply.

“When Sam Williams and Dean Jensen got to the scene, it was obvious foul play was involved,” he begins. “Dean marveled as he watched Sam work on this, their first case. He saw every detail, every clue that every other person on earth would glaze right over. He was amazing.”

---

“We ran through the back alleys, jumping over fences and around skips,” Sherlock’s voice is urgent. He knows he should not make the story suspenseful since it is just before bed. Olive stares at him with wide eyes and rapt attention, but he cannot stop himself. He has not told this tale in some time and is completely absorbed in the memories and rush of feelings. “I knew we could catch the cab if we were only fast enough.”

---

“But when they got to the street, the cab wasn’t there,” John’s tone is full of hushed intensity. Gracie’s eyes are wide and yet, she can barely keep them open. When she blinks, her heavy lids stay down a split-second longer than normal before she tears them open again to meet her father’s.

---

“We returned to the flat to find Greg and his forces conducting a thorough search of the premises,” Sherlock does not even try to keep the disdain from his voice, remembering how Anderson and Donovan had volunteered in hopes of finding drugs. “They found the pink case and leapt to the wrong conclusion. Idiots. If Greg hadn’t been in charge they would’ve arrested us on the spot.”

---

“And just like that, Sam was gone,” John shakes his head, still remembering his own disbelief when Sherlock was suddenly missing. “It didn’t take Dean long to figure out what had happened, so he hailed his own cab to follow.”

Gracie’s eyes are closed now, her breath evening out and deepening, but John doesn’t want to stop. His mind is flooded with memories and images as the case plays out in his words.

“Dean jumped out of the cab and stared up at two identical buildings. He picked one and ran up the stairs, two at a time, only to find himself looking out the window to see Sam and the cabbie in the other building,” John murmurs, suddenly out of breath. Gracie makes a soft noise and shifts slightly. Her eyes flutter open and then close again. John detects the movement, but is so wound into the case that he just keeps staring at the bed’s headboard like he’s looking through that window again. His voice comes out in a defeated whisper: “He made the wrong choice.”

---

“A shot rang out and struck the cabbie, knocking him to the floor,” Sherlock says dramatically, caught up in the story as much as Olive. “I ran to the window, but couldn’t see anyone in the opposite building. Later when I started deducing the shooter for Greg, I knew.”

---

“Sam knew it was Dean,” John breathes, his words nearly inaudible, even in the stillness of the room.

---

“I walked away from Greg, but made it clear to Friday that I knew what he’d done for me,” Sherlock meets his daughter’s wide eyes, full of wonder. “He smiled at me and I knew at that moment…”

---

“We both knew,” John almost gasps, unable to maintain his distance from the tale now that his daughter is asleep. His eyes have grown soft and watery.

---

“We would be best friends for life,” Sherlock finishes, nearly in a trance that breaks as soon as Olive exhales loudly with the word wow.

“That was better than any other time you told it before,” she tells him in awe. Sherlock’s lips turn up into a small smile and he bends to kiss her forehead. “So what happened?”

“What?” Sherlock’s brow furrows in confusion.

“You were best friends,” Olive clarifies. “So what happened?”

‘Where is he’ is the unspoken question hanging heavily in the air between them. Sherlock licks his lips, trying to decide what to say. Oddly enough, Olive has never before asked for an explanation as to why his best friend is no longer in his life. A pang of despair surges through his body, leaving weariness in its wake. He looks at Olive with some apprehension, pushing thoughts of John and Mary from his mind.

“He got married and they moved away,” Sherlock shrugs uneasily while trying to sound casual. “We grew apart.”

“Hm,” Olive presses her lips together. She looks unconvinced, but mercifully does not push the issue. “I don’t think that’ll happen to Gracie and I. We’ll be friends forever.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Sherlock says sincerely and kisses her head again. “Good night, Olive.”

“G’night,” she grins and pulls a stuffed bee from beneath the covers as Sherlock stands. She turns on her side and snuggles it close.

Once Sherlock is out of the room and the door is closed, he leans his back against it and sighs sadly. Unwilling to dwell on the memories, he walks down the stairs and into the kitchen where he starts loading the dishwasher he had installed shortly before Olive was born. He knew he would have little time for washing up with an infant in the flat.

Sherlock tries to keep John from his thoughts as he works, but the face that still haunts his dreams will not relent. Mycroft had tried to tell him what had become of John a few weeks after he and Mary had left London, but Sherlock could not bear it. He could not know anything about John without being able to share it. Sherlock had been so broken and hopeless, nearly turning to cocaine for release, but would not do that to John. He knew John would not give a damn at that point, but Sherlock still refused to go back to his old ways.

Sherlock could not really blame John for leaving. He had been the one who pushed him back to Mary after she shot Sherlock, and she wanted to leave London. She seemed to want John all to herself and Sherlock had not expected that. Nor had he anticipated John going with her without a word. That had cut more deeply than any cruel words could have and Sherlock was lost as a result.

That was ten years ago and so much had changed in Sherlock’s life since then. He had healed and repaired his broken heart, but never forgot John, the one true love of his life. Never at any time, however, did he allow Mycroft to tell him anything about the doctor or his new life. His meddling brother knew exactly what John was up to and still did. He would never stop his minions from spying, much the same as Sherlock would never ask what they had observed. In spite of this fact, Sherlock would never delete John and revels in telling Olive of their adventures, but he does keep his distance from that part of his mind palace. It is the only locked door and he approaches it only to slip a case from the letterbox. Why then, does John so plague his thoughts tonight?

Sherlock closes the dishwasher and switches it on. He walks through to the sitting room and goes straight for his violin. Picking up the beloved instrument carefully, he props it under his chin and deftly moves the bow across its strings with a sigh. As a piece of his own composition fills the air, one he only plays on difficult nights, he closes his eyes and allows his mind to work so that it might ease.

_______________

So there it is! What do you think?? Too much pining? Not enough? The girls are the greatest, yeah? Third grade versions of John and Sherlock, but they have their own personalities too. They made me laugh so many times while writing and editing. Lol. I never would've thought I'd like writing kids, but I really do. Of course, I never pictured myself writing Johnlock fanfic either. Oh, how we change as we grow.

Logistically speaking, my plan is to post a new chapter every weekend. The whole story is finished, I just haven't typed it all and I need to edit. I'm sort of old school that way. That said, I may have to post every other week. I'll just have to see how it goes.

Your support means so much to me and I love you all! Jane

#johnlock #Johnlock fanfic #Sherlock Holmes #sherlock #john watson #sherlock loves john #John loves Sherlock #mystrade

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nerdified · 3 years

Text

Procedural Notes: Patient #3 (FKA Hugo Jensen)

NOTE: [At the time of this audio recording, Mr. Hugo Jensen (NKA Norville Nerdlinger) has just begun the process, and is restrained. The identity of the speaker is unknown. This transcript is reproduced here in order to assist with identification of this man, who has since disappeared, absconding with an undisclosed amount of the process agonist. Efforts to locate him have, to date, been fruitless. If anyone knows anything about this man or his whereabouts, please report the information to Central Command.]

[BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]

Quiet, now. It’s no use struggling.

I’m not going to hurt you. Quite the opposite.

I see that look in your eyes, like you don’t think I could hurt you. You’re probably right. I’m not much of a fighter. But I know what you think of me, and other guys like me. I’ve been listening to you on the phone, you know. Hacked your telecommunications. What was it that you called me, on that call with the client yesterday?

Oh, yes, I remember. A walking pocket protector. I’ll admit, that was a new one for me. I’ve had “pencil-neck” and “four-eyes” and the good old-fashioned “nerd” lobbed at me before, but “walking pocket-protector”… Heck, it’s got a little poetry to it!

Shh. I know, it feels strange. It’s a little unsettling, at first, I’ll agree. But you’ll get used to it. It’ll go easier for you if you just relax and quit fighting it. In time, you’ll even begin to like it.

I’m sorry about the gag. Unfortunately, it’s just the beginning of the process, so I have to leave it in for…twenty-three more minutes, at least, if my calculations are correct.

Ha! Who am I kidding – my calculations are always correct.

I can see from your eyes that you hate my guts right now. That, too, will change.

You see, what’s about to happen to you isn’t out of the ordinary, or even very noteworthy. As far as I can tell, it happens to a lot of guys, especially those that zip through their twenties and then hit that speed bump called thirty, bank accounts empty and career opportunities shot. Those of us who didn’t win the genetic lottery couldn’t get by just on our looks and our charisma, like you did.

I remember how it felt when I was in high school, and guys like you were all A+ students and perfect jocks, too… gosh, it’s enough to make me swear.

But no. You couldn’t leave well enough alone. You couldn’t just be a jock, be good at sports, and leave the academics to the rest of us. We didn’t ask for much, you know. We just wanted to be left alone in our science labs, and in our tutorials, in our lives.

There's no escaping guys like you. You’re everywhere, and you’re spreading. For a time, we ignored it. Figured it was some kind of anomaly. But it wasn’t – it was a trend. And despite the fact that we didn’t see it coming, we are now prepared for its end.

Like I mentioned – it won’t surprise most people to see you change. Maybe a few of your close friends will worry about you. Express some concern. But by that point, you’ll already have accepted your new self. You’ll be able to say “This is just who I am,” and it’ll be their choice how to proceed. That’s a side benefit, by the way, of the process. You get to find out who your real friends are – and, spoiler alert: they’re not exactly big football fans.

You have to be prepared for some major shake-up in your life, though. The good thing about the process is that it won’t faze you in the slightest. Everything will be gee-whiz gosh-darn super-duper spiffy keen neat-o, if anyone asks, and for you, it will be.

Now, I know those terms are a little outdated. We’ve had to make a bit of an adjustment to the process in your case. The earlier version wasn’t quite strong enough for you, so we’ve had to over-compensate in a few directions. You won’t just be a little bit nerdy, you know, a couple of odd quirks, some new hobbies. For example, Derek – well, that’s his dead name, he goes by Derwood now – Derwood can sometimes get by in normal society. He even kept a few of his old friends. He’s just more into things like superhero movies, and he’s left behind all knowledge or passion for sports. I think I even saw him reading a comic book the other day, come to think of it.

But that’s not going to be you. Oh, sure, you might develop a taste for superhero movies, but if you do, it won’t just be a passing interest. You’ll become a rabid fan. I believe…obsessive…is the operative word, in fact. Yes, you see, that earlier version of the process would have worn off, and you’d have been back to your old self in no time, which would wreak havoc on your psyche, not to mention put our entire operation in jeopardy. We can’t have that.

It looks like some time has passed, but not quite enough for me to remove the gag yet. Do you feel your perfect white teeth shifting around in your gums, almost impatiently? Nod once for yes.

You don’t have to nod at all, not if you don’t want to. I don’t need you to confirm for me what I can already see happening in your eyes. Speaking of your eyes – how’s your vision? I can see you starting to squint every now and then. Trying to see past that blur? Don’t worry. I’ve already got your glasses, right here, for when it gets too bad for you to see. Talk about your Coke-bottle lenses - my calculations again predict that you’ll settle somewhere around…hm…negative six diopters, which is even worse than mine.

To put it simply: you won’t even be able to read the big E on the eye chart without your glasses on.

I know, you’ve never been to the optometrist in your life. You never needed to. And don’t think about getting contact lenses, either. I mean, go ahead and try, if you really want to embarrass yourself.

Oh, I can see it now: timid, nerdy little guy like you, shuffling into the doctor’s office – you say you want to get contact lenses, and they get you in the back for a fitting. They show you how to do it, you know, hold your eyelids apart and then just plop the lens on there. But you have to do it three times before they’ll let you leave with them, and you won’t even be able to get one in, because you’ll keep blinking it out. I wish I could be there to see it, honestly – you, all frustrated, trying to swear, but only able to say things like “Fudge!” and “Gosh darn it!”

It’ll be so beautiful. I’m getting teary just thinking about it.

I’m glad you’re starting to settle down a bit. Let me know when you need your glasses. Maybe while we wait, I’ll get started on your hair. That trendy fade has got to go, and so does that scruff on your face. At the start, you’ll have to shave a lot, but as the process continues, you’ll start producing more of a 5-alpha reductase enzyme. This will convert your testosterone into dihydrotestosterone, or DHT, which will actually miniaturize your follicles. Kind of like using a shrink ray on them! Oh, and there will be no taking of inhibitors, like finasteride or anything like that – our process contains a potent agonist, with an affinity of 0.25 to 0.5 nM for the human androgen receptor.

It’s all very scientific, I assure you. And with the miniaturization of your follicles, your sebaceous glands will begin to over-produce sebum, which results in – you guessed it! Acne. Pimples. Zits. I know you’ve never had to deal with that before, so I’m just preparing you for it now. Pizza-face, I think the popular nickname is. Get ready for a lot of that.

Let’s see…what else can I tell you.... Gosh, this is kind of like the orientation for a new job, isn’t it? Ah, yes. I know. Speaking of jobs...

Yeah, this is the tough part. It’s all very natural, I assure you. Just like with your friends, your co-workers will come to see you in a different way. I know you have quite a few cutthroat underlings who would eat one another alive to get your corner office, and the moment they sense you’re not as much of a threat as you used to be, they’ll swarm.

I give it two weeks, tops, until you’re gone. If you choose that road. Or you could make it much easier on yourself and resign. You won’t be financially ruined – not with all that new information surging through your brain – you’ll be an asset to the right company, the right department. Maybe IT will take you. Or accounting. Maybe you won’t work corporate. Maybe you’ll work retail.

God, that’s cruel even for me. I wouldn’t wish retail on anyone, even a jerk like you. But there’s no telling what could happen. For all I know, once the process has completed, you could end up one of those Geek Squad guys at Best Buy! Have you seen the uniform they have to wear? It’s company-mandated dress code. You’ve seen them, haven’t you? White, short-sleeve, button-down shirt. Black polyester clip-on necktie; black, pleated trousers; black lace-up shoes…and white socks. Yes, white socks, kept completely spotless and bright. All this is enforced, too, with routine inspections, to make sure you’re being compliant!

You see, there’s really an infinity of possibilities for you. If anything, this is a new chance for you – a fresh start. I know it feels scary, all this change. But change is the only constant. Everything is always in flux. Heck, every seven years, your entire body regenerates – every cell is new and different, so why shouldn’t your personality and identity change, too?

It’s logical, isn’t it? Nod once for yes.

Good! You’re starting to come around, aren’t you? Like I said, it won’t be so bad if you just accept it. If you don’t fight it. That sudden urge to position your tongue up behind your teeth when you say ess. Eth. Eth. How your voice keeps breaking, and in the most unfortunate ways, and at the most unfortunate times – all of this is being etched into your muscle memory as I speak to you.

There isn’t much longer now until I can remove your gag, and I can see that the physical alterations are beginning. Too bad all that hard work at the gym all these years is so easily eroded by our process, but then, those muscles were mostly for show, weren’t they? Well, no longer. It isn’t exactly sarcopenia, but it’s close. You’ll be at least one and a half, possibly two, standard deviations below the relevant population mean, and no amount of exercise will restore your former abilities.

Yes, the ropes are looser now, because you’re much smaller. Rapid onset muscle deterioration. You could struggle out of them. Maybe you could even escape. You could try. But there’s no way you’d make it very far without your glasses. Who would believe you, anyway? What would you even say?

Like I said, you might as well give in. It’s not so bad, once you get used to it. And you’ll have me. I’ll be with you for the whole beginning process, so you can acclimate to your newly nerdy life. You won’t be able to continue living in that luxe apartment you’ve got – no, you’ll be moving into a nice little basement apartment I’ve got fixed up for you, in the suburbs outside the city. The landlords have just got it refurbished, with some nice wood paneling, and there’s a spare twin bed that should be just your size! There’s also tons of room on the walls to put up all your posters. You won’t need much room for anything else, really. You definitely won’t be needing that enormous closet of tailored, fitted button-down shirts, or all those sneakers, definitely not those expensive Under Armour boxer-briefs. What a waste. No, the new you is way more frugal with his money, seeing as he’s paid so little of it. The new you doesn’t even think that much about clothes, or fashion.

This must be a lot to handle. Maybe I should have a little mercy on you.

Tell you what. I’ll let you choose your underwear. How’s that, pal? That make you feel any better? Nod once for yes.

See, I’m not that bad. That’s right. So, here. You can choose…Hanes, or Fruit of the Loom?

Oh, I see. You thought I meant what kind of underwear. Haha, no. You’ll be wearing tighty-whities from now on. Sorry, them’s the rules. Besides, you won’t need much support…down there, if you catch my drift!

Don’t look so horrified. You won’t even notice that it’s gone. Mostly. You’ll still have some length, just, you know, not a lot. You won’t be able to call it a “cock” or a “dick” ever again, either. Oh, look how cute – you’re blushing just hearing me say it! You might call it something else, like your ding-a-ling, or your wiener.

Okay, okay, I can tell you’re getting embarrassed, you’ve gone all red and blotchy in your cheeks. We don’t have to talk about the … “no-no place” anymore, little buddy.

All right. Here’s your glasses. I’ll just set them on your nose, for you…there. Wow, they sure do make your eyes look tiny!

I can tell you’re getting near to the end of the process, and I’m curious to see how big your two front teeth have gotten. From that bump in your upper lip…gosh, it looks like you might be giving Bugs Bunny a run for his money!

You’ve really been behaving better, so I’ll bring you a mirror, okay? So you can see for yourself. I must say, it’s already quite the improvement. I wasn’t expecting your hair to turn so red, or get so curly. Maybe if you can’t get a job at Best Buy, you could run away and join the circus as a clown!

I’m just horsing around with you, pal. Don’t pass out on me. You promise not to scream? I hate it when they scream. Nod once for yes.

You’re a little excited, aren’t you? It’s okay. You can tell me. I bet you get a little more excitable than you used to. Maybe you even get a little clumsy, with the loss of all that hand-eye coordination. Trip over your own two feet and go sprawling.

But who knows. There’s so much potential.

And you’re just the beginning, too. Let’s just say that my proposal for introducing you to the process wasn’t well-received by Central. What do they know? They have this power, and they don’t use it. Well, you snooze, you lose, by golly! If you have a gift, you use it, otherwise it goes to waste.

Anyway. Enough of the supervillain speech. You don’t need to know anything more. It’ll probably be wiped out in the massive crush of nerdy trivia about Star Trek and Star Wars that’s going to download into your brain soon, anyway.

So, this is it. Are you ready to see? Nod once for yes, and I’ll pull the cloth off this mirror here.

Alrighty, dweeb, you asked for it. Here goes.

Say salutations to the new you!

[END TRANSCRIPT]

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beelsnack · 4 years

Note

Hiya! I saw ur post about u being stressed at work so please take ur time with this request! There's no rush! Ur wellbeing is more important 💖 But when you get the time how about some headcanons for an MC who is very cute and naive but got teased for being so at RAD so they try to dress "cool" and pretend to be all badass but their tough persona just makes the demon brothers uwu even more cuz they think it's adorable how hard they're trying

Ah, thank you for being patient, Nonnie! I hope this was worth the wait!

I realized a bit too late that I may have misinterpreted your request a little, but I hope it turned out alright anyway. ^^

-----

Lucifer: “Careful, my dear, your face may get stuck like that.”

When the human turned around to greet him, they had their normal cheerful grin on their face. However, Lucifer watched as their expression turned surprised, then frustrated before they managed to school it back into the hilariously deep frown they had been forcing all day.

“Would you mind telling me why you’re making that ridiculous face?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” They fell into step beside him. Even though they had pretty much figured out the layout of RAD, Lucifer insisted on walking with them to the Student Council Chambers. At first, it was just to make sure they didn’t accidentally end up in the torture chambers in the lower levels, but now he genuinely enjoyed the few moments they had alone together. Hearing them chatter on about their day lifted his mood exponentially.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” Lucifer inclined his head. “Force that scowl for much longer and you might pull a facial muscle.”

They wavered for a second before sighing. “Did it really look that bad?”

“It was quite an unnatural look for you.” he replied, a hint of laughter in his voice. “Would you mind telling me just what you were trying to do?”

“...Some demons in my class told me I smiled too much.” they admitted. “So I was trying to...not?”

Lucifer paused, regarding them with a raised eyebrow. “What in the Three Realms does ‘smiling too much’ mean?”

“I’m...not sure honestly,” they shrugged.

“My dear,” he stopped in front of them, placing his hands on their shoulders. “I don’t particularly care what those other demons think or want, but I will not have you depriving me of your beautiful smile.”

Mammon: That was his jacket.

It was way too big on them, making them look even smaller than they already did. It was also very clearly not part of the RAD uniform - not that any of the brothers wore their uniforms correctly, but the human was usually pretty up to code with theirs.

He caught up to them in a few steps and grabbed onto the collar of their - his - jacket. “Hey, human! Just what do you think you’re doing?”

They squeaked in surprise, and for a moment Mammon was caught off guard by how unbearably adorable it was. When they turned around, they were grinning sheepishly at him.

“H-hi Mammon.”

Oof. Honestly, he did not anticipate how seeing them wearing his clothes was going to affect him. The sleeves came down to their knuckles, and they had curled their fingers around the cuffs almost instinctively, It was too cute, he felt like his heart was trying to smash through his ribcage.

“You - you got a whole lotta nerve, stealing from the Great Mammon.” he released their collar, they both continued walking, although he had completely forgotten that his class was in the complete opposite direction.

“You left it in my room, though.”

“Doesn’t explain why you’re wearin’ it!”

“I’m sorry.” they sighed, beginning to shrug the jacket off of their shoulders. “Some demons were picking on me, so I thought they would leave me alone if I dressed a bit tougher. It didn’t work anyway, so I’ll give it back now.”

They were just about to yank their arms out of the sleeves when Mammon shook his head.

“Keep it, if it makes you feel better.” he definitely wasn’t blushing, nope, not even a little bit. “I’ve got others, so just accept the Great Mammon’s generosity.”

Leviathan: “Please tell me you didn’t pay a stupid amount of cash for those.”

The human frowned up at Levi, putting a hand over their new headphones almost protectively. “I paid a perfectly reasonable amount!”

“I wouldn’t pay anything for those,” he frowned. “The manufacturers would have to pay me, actually.”

“Alright, alright, I get it!” they huffed. “I just bought them so people would stop talking about me when they think I’m listening.”

Levi tilted his head. “Huh?”

The human sighed, playing idly with the cord of the headphones. “Some demons in my Curses class like to freak me out by saying how yummy I look when they catch my eye. I kind of hoped that they would stop if they weren’t getting a rise out of me.”

A white-hot surge of protectiveness crashed over him as the human curled in on themself. He might have been a giant otaku, but he would be damned if he let anything happen to his best friend. Well, more damned than he already was, anyway.

“You should have just said something,” he shoved his hands in his pockets. “I have an old pair you can have. They still work fine, but they released a limited-edition Ruri-chan version and obviously I have to rep my waifu so I’ve been using those - “

Satan: “Can I ask you something?”

The two of them were on their way to the RAD’s library. Satan honestly didn’t need to study, but the human definitely did, and using an academic excuse meant that Lucifer was more likely to leave the two of them alone.

“Of course,” Satan held the door open for them. Without even bothering to look, he began walking over to the table that had basically become their territory. Even if there were other demons there, they would probably scamper off.

“How do you get people to be afraid of you?”

Satan paused, raising an eyebrow in an expression that definitely did not make him look strikingly like Lucifer. “Me specifically?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, being the Avatar of Wrath gives me a leg up.”

The human scowled. “Damn it.”

“Why would you want people to be afraid of you?” Satan asked as they sat down. Up until this point, the human’s modus operandi was being so sweet that nobody ever wanted to hurt them, so the threatening angle was a complete 180.

“Some demons in class were making comments about me being dessert.” they mumbled, taking out their textbooks before slinging their bag over the back of the chair. “I honestly couldn’t tell if they were talking about my personality or my flesh, so…”

“Okay, first of all,” Satan leaned forward on his elbows. “We kill them.”

“Satan, no.”

Asmodeus: “Oh, darling, what have you done to yourself?”

They really needed to get a “Do Not Disturb” sign or something. Not that it would stop anything, but still.

Asmo at least had the decency to shut the door behind him, but that was as far as it went. He was openly staring at them, doing his best impression of the Scream painting.

“The makeup tutorial made this look so much easier.” they sighed, leaning back in their chair.

“They always do,” Asmo came over behind them, placing his hands on their shoulders as he leaned down to look at their laptop screen. “Never trust the ones on Sinterest.”

Their final product looked nothing like the model on the screen. The wings of their eyeliner were crooked, and one eye was longer than the other. The contouring made them look like a clown, and somehow they had gotten black eyeshadow on their nose.

“That’s quite the change of pace for you, darling.” Asmo commented, “It’s a look, but why the sudden switch?”

The human remained silent, their bottom lip quivering in a way that made Asmo want to gathering them up in a blanket. Eventually, they sighed again.

“All the succubi look so cool, and I always look...” they paused. “Human.”

“Darling, I don’t know how to break this to you - “

“I know, I know.” they grumbled. “I just wanted to look badass for once!”

The puppy-dog pout they had going on wasn’t doing anything for that particular look, but Asmo decided to keep that comment to himself. Instead, he spun them around, hands still on their shoulders. “Now, now, don’t make that face. Let’s see if we can’t fix this up a little, hm?”

Beelzebub: “What are you doing?”

He hadn’t meant to scare them, but they jumped like he had jumped from the ceiling. The yelp they let out made him feel guilty. Maybe Mammon was right when he said that Beel was disturbingly sneaky for someone his size.

Usually the gym was empty when he came for his morning workout, so seeing the human seated on the workout bench was a definite surprise. Not a bad one though.

“Beel!” the set the weight down. “Um…g-good morning…?”

“Morning,” he replied, making his way over to where they were situated. “You’re not usually one to workout, much less this early in the morning.”

“I, uh…” they stammered. “I wanted to get a little stronger, is all.”

“Not that I’m going to stop you,” he set his gym bag down next to the weight rack. “But why?”

They grumbled under their breath, but eventually sighed. “Some demons at RAD told me I looked chewy.”

“I mean, you kind of do.”

“Hey!”

“All humans look chewy, though.” he shrugged. “It’s not a bad thing. But you want to build up some muscle, right?”

They pouted, and Beel really wanted to reach out and pat them on the head. Instead, he sat next to them on the bench and handed them the weight they had been using.

“Okay, so you want to hold it like this…”

Belphegor: “You had a funny dream last night.”

They had learned from experience that telling Belphie to stop invading their privacy by watching their dreams did exactly fuck all, so they just huffed in annoyance as he flopped against their shoulder. “It wasn’t funny.”

“Amusing, then.”

“For you, maybe.”

They felt him smirk against their shoulder. “You really think a leather jacket and sunglasses will make demons think you’re tough?”

“More than skipping around with flowers in my hair would.”

“I think you would look cute with flowers in your hair. Let’s take some black roses from Diavolo’s garden.”

“Aren’t those poisonous?”

Belphie shifted, nuzzling into their neck as the professor walked in. “It’ll help with the tough image.”

“For about 4 hours until I start foaming at the mouth.” they folded their arms, jostling Belphie from their shoulder.

The demon laughed, pillowing his head in his arms as he leaned forward onto the desk. “I like how you are now. If someone starts giving you trouble, I’ll kill them for you.”

“No cannibalism, please.”

“That’s more Beel’s territory.”

#shall we date obey me #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie

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quantummindclassicalheart · 3 years

Text

a taste of summer

In which Caleb’s hidden talent for baking and Jester’s love of sweets collide in the best possible way. Inspired by various illustrations of this concept, chief among them @belligerentbagel’s depiction here.

I started out trying to justify the presence of strawberries in a traditional German Zemnian holiday dessert (note: strawberries are a summer fruit) and six YouTube tutorials, 10 recipe tabs, and over two thousand words later, here we are.

Caleb had gotten the idea over brunch one morning as the Mighty Nein were sitting down to a hot meal of pancakes and waffles in the dining hall of the tower.

"You know, you'd never think it was summer, considering how cold it is up here in Eiselcross," Jester had observed between shoveling forkfuls of pancake into her mouth. "Summers back in Nicodranas were always warm and sunny. That’s way better, if you ask me."

Granted, she’d gone on to spend the next fifteen minutes ranking various weather phenomena from most to least favorite (“Rainbows are probably the best, because it’s sunny but also it’s raining and also they’re so colorful? But fog is just the worst. If you bump into someone it’s like, oh no, I didn’t see you there because of this stupid fog. Clouds are all right I guess...”) but the initial spark of inspiration had been enough.

It was in fact the middle of Brussendar, not long after the solstice. And Jester was right-- the weather outside was a far cry from the balmy summers of the Menagerie Coast. But perhaps… perhaps Caleb could bring a bit of summer to her.

After returning to his room, Caleb flipped open his spellbook and pulled out a folded slip of paper from its hiding place between the pages of a little-used section towards the end. Erdbeerkuchen, it read in a flowing script. Zutaten: 3 Eier, 150 g Zucker… He traced the handwriting gently with a finger, the words illuminated by the warm light of the fire burning in the fireplace.

Caleb did a few quick calculations in his head and drew up an ingredients list on a nearby notepad, then tugged once on the red rope pull by the fireplace. A gray mackerel tabby with green eyes soon poked its head out of the brass trapdoor in the floor, clambered up, and sat patiently at Caleb’s feet, wrapping its tail around its legs.

“Ekaterina, just the cat I wanted to see,” said Caleb, giving her a scratch under the chin. He proffered the list to the small cat. “Could you please take this to the kitchen and prepare these ingredients for me? And let the kitchen staff know I’ll be needing the kitchen tomorrow afternoon. Just for an hour or so.” The tabby gave a *mrrrp* of assent, closed her mouth gently around the list, and darted back into the trapdoor, which shut behind her with a click.

When Caleb arrived at the kitchen the next day, the ingredients were all measured, sorted, and organized neatly into bowls. An extra bag of flour had thoughtfully been set out on the counter along with some spare bowls and a scale. Frumpkin wandered in behind him, tail swishing back and forth, and promptly hopped onto a counter to supervise.

Caleb tied back his hair and prepared to get to work. First, he reached into one of the bowls and counted out the strawberries one by one, inspecting each for bruising. If this was going to impress Jester, it had to be perfect.

Next, he walked over to the brick oven, assembled a small pile of kindling inside, and set it ablaze with a flick of his fingers. The little fire grew, and he made a mental note to continue adding wood as the temperature rose. Caleb gazed into the orange flame, watching it dance and catch and consume the bits of kindling. The fire crackled. Already the heat was building, and the shadows inside the oven flickered and played across the interior walls. It was at once familiar, comforting, and altogether hypnotic.

Just then, the sound of a bubbly voice startled him from his reverie. “Natasha? Sonya? Mary? Where are you, cats?” Caleb looked over to see Jester peering in through the doorway. “Oh, Caleb. Where are all the cats today?”

“I gave them the afternoon off,” Caleb said. “Well, at least the kitchen staff. I needed the space for a special project.”

“Is it a super secret spell? Because you’d tell me if it was, right?” said Jester eagerly. “What’s in the bowls? Some crazy magic spell components?”

“Well, it’s not quite magic per se. Though I suppose one could classify this as a transmutation of sorts…” Caleb stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I’m making a cake for our friends. Come here and have a look, if you like.”

Returning to the counter, he loaded some ingredients onto the scale, checking that everything had been measured out to his specifications. Jester skipped over to the side of the counter opposite Caleb, where she could get a better look at the contents of the bowls. “What’s that one, Caleb?” she asked, pointing to a small bowl of white powder.

“Ah, that is bicarbonate of soda mixed with some cream of tartar,” explained Caleb. “It makes bubbles of gas in the batter during the baking process. Helps it rise.”

“Ooh. Sounds pretty magical to me,” quipped Jester.

“Well, as I recall, you have a bit of experience with magical confections, no?”

“Sure do!” Jester beamed. “Just say the word and I will load this baby up with Dust of Deliciousness like that. Boom.” She mimed an explosion with her hands.

“I appreciate the offer, but I think our friends will want to keep their wits about them.” Caleb unloaded the scale and grabbed a large empty bowl with geometric designs on the side. Opening a nearby carton of eggs, he picked up an egg in his right hand, rapped it sharply against the countertop, and leveraged open its shell one-handed over the bowl. He cracked the other two eggs into the bowl similarly and then added in the sugar.

“We do have a secret ingredient, though,” Caleb said conspiratorially. “Fresh vanilla bean.” He tipped in the contents of a smaller bowl, picked up a whisk, and began beating the ingredients together vigorously.

“Where did you learn how to bake, Caleb?” asked Jester.

“When I was a boy growing up in Blumenthal, my mother always did the cooking,” said Caleb. “She taught me how to make practical things with my hands, for the most part. Breads and rolls and such.”

“Una, right?”

“What was that?” Caleb stopped stirring.

“Your mom’s name,” said Jester. “You said it back on Rumblecusp. When we were going around and making sure we hadn’t forgotten anything important. And you say it every time you do your vault of amber thingy.”

“Good memory. I’m surprised you remembered,” Caleb remarked. “Yes, Una. Like I was saying, she mostly taught me how to make bread and that sort of thing. But every summer, when the days were at their longest and the strawberries were at their peak, she’d prepare a special Erdbeerkuchen. Strawberry cake.”

“And now you’re making one for all of us,” noted Jester.

“Well, we’ve been through a lot these past few days. I thought a little pick-me-up was in order.”

“I’m sure your mom would be very proud, Caleb.” Jester leaned over, resting her elbows on the counter. “Sooooo, can I help?”

“Can you… yes, by all means, I could use a helper,” said Caleb. “Frumpkin would do it, but he has no opposable thumbs, which makes holding a knife a bit difficult.”

“Meow,” agreed Frumpkin, raising his front paws to demonstrate.

“Why don’t you take the stems off from those strawberries and cut each of them in half? I ought to start the glaze for the fruits, so I’ll only be a minute.” Caleb set out a wooden cutting board and a paring knife on the counter.

“Sounds good to me!” said Jester, picking up a strawberry in her right hand and the paring knife in her left. With the berries taken care of, Caleb turned to place a small saucepan on one of the stove burners, lighting the stove with a well-placed mote of fire.

Carefully, he poured a beaker of red juice into the pan and brought it to a boil. As he added some starch to the juice to thicken the glaze, he could hear Jester humming to herself quietly. Listening to her voice, he realized he’d almost forgotten how nice it was to cook with someone else.

When he was satisfied with the fruit glaze, Caleb brought the heat down to a low simmer and turned back to check on Jester’s progress. By the looks of it, she’d gotten through just over half of the berries so far.

“So, how did I do?” asked Jester.

“They look good. Except…” Caleb’s eyes narrowed as he examined the pile of sliced fruit.

“What is it, Caleb?”

“I distinctly recall setting out twenty-five strawberries for this recipe, and there are only twenty-one here.” He raised an eyebrow. “Any idea what could have happened to those other four?”

“Mayyyyybe Frumpkin ate them?” Jester said hopefully. Frumpkin, who had been cleaning himself fastidiously, looked up from his perch on a nearby stool. His amber eyes flitted to Jester, then to Caleb. “Mrrrow,” meowed Frumpkin.

“Is that so? That was very naughty, Frumpkin,” said Caleb, wagging a finger playfully at his cat. “Naughty kitties who spoil their appetite with berries shall go straight to bed without any supper.”

“Meow.” Frumpkin glared at Jester.

“I don’t want to hear any excuses out of you,” Caleb declared. “I’m sorry, but this most heinous crime simply cannot go unpunished. Now, off to bed with you.” He waved a dismissive hand towards Frumpkin, who had been staring pointedly at Jester for the last thirty seconds.

Jester rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine, fine, I ate the strawberries,” she confessed. “They just looked so sweet and juicy and I had to do some, uh, ‘quality control.’ You know. To make sure they were really as good as they looked.”

“You ate four,” Caleb pointed out.

“I was being thorough.”

Caleb snorted, crossing his arms. “And what do your taste buds say, o master of quality control?”

“Very good,” Jester pronounced. “Top notch.” She reached for another berry.

“Ah, ah, ah. Not so fast,” said Caleb, swatting away her hand. “Naughty kitty cats get punished for their transgressions, you know.”

“And exactly what sort of punishment did you have in mind?” asked Jester teasingly.

It was at this moment that Caleb became acutely aware of his particular choice of words. “Well… ah... perhaps you might take over the mixing for a bit?” he offered quickly. “My arms are a bit tired, and you’re stronger than I am anyway. We’re looking for stiff peaks, mind you.” He extended the bowl of half-beaten batter to her.

“Hmph, fine,” said Jester. “But first, you’re going to try one of these strawberries.” She plucked one off the table deftly, a bright red jewel between her cornflower blue fingers.

“Jester, we’re already a few short--” Caleb began.

“Eat the strawberry, Caleb.”

“But I calculated--”

“Shut up and eat the strawberry.”

Seeing the look of determination on Jester’s face, Caleb wisely decided not to protest further, and he opened his mouth to let her feed him the berry. It really was as good as Jester had said, and more. He closed his eyes half-consciously, savoring the perfectly ripe fruit.

For a moment, he was a young boy again, picking strawberries in the field with his friends under a cloudless sky. There was the heat of the sun’s rays, the wind in his hair, the sweet burst of juice on his tongue with just a hint of tartness to tie it all together. As Caleb snapped back to reality, his eyelids flickered open to reveal a grinning Jester standing before him.

“So, pretty good, right?” She tossed the berry stub into a bin and looked at Caleb expectantly.

“Ja, pretty good,” Caleb acknowledged.

“You know, you have to let yourself enjoy things, Caleb. You put all this work into making nice things for other people, but you never let yourself just be happy.” Jester was still smiling, but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes.

“I suppose I’m still learning how.” Caleb picked up the paring knife and began hulling the remaining strawberries. “Thank you for the reminder, anyway.”

“Anytime,” said Jester, grabbing the whisk and giving the mixture a good stir. Between the two of them, the strawberries were soon cut into neat halves, and the batter beaten until light and fluffy.

Caleb inspected Jester’s handiwork, poking the whipped mixture gently with a finger. “Mother would approve,” he commented. “Here, just fold in these dry ingredients and we’ll be ready to bake.” He sifted in the flour and baking powder, passed Jester a large spoon to stir it all together, and fetched a round metal pan with a little dip around the perimeter of the base.

While Jester held the bowl, Caleb scooped the batter into the pan and leveled it off carefully. “That looks good to me,” he announced. “Let’s put that into the oven.”

“Wait, Caleb!” Jester interjected. “Isn’t there one more very special ingredient you’re forgetting?”

“No,” said Caleb, “I’m quite certain I added everything on the--” Jester leaned up and planted a kiss on his cheek, leaving him momentarily speechless.

“Love,” she said. “You can’t bake without love. I’m sure your mom knew that, too.”

“I-- yes, that was silly of me.” He thought back to the handwritten recipe in the back of his spellbook. “I’m sorry I forgot.”

Caleb paused for a moment, and then spoke again. "Can I tell you something else, Jester? I planned to make enough cake for everyone, but the truth is... I was making it especially for you. I know how much you love sweets, and I wanted it to be perfect."

"For me?" she said, eyes wide. "You put all this time and effort into it, Caleb. Of course it's going to be perfect."

“Well, why don’t we put this in the oven now that it’s ready?” said Jester, taking the filled cake pan from Caleb and sliding it into the brick oven. She came back over and hopped up on one of the counters. “And while we’re waiting... I can remind you a little more about that secret ingredient.”

“We’re not talking about the vanilla this time, are we?” said Caleb. In response, Jester hooked an arm around his neck and pulled him in close until their faces were almost touching.

“No,” she said gently, “we’re not.” Caleb leaned in to close the distance between them, meeting the softness of her lips with his own. He took a moment to breathe her in, in all her sweetness and her warmth, and then leaned in a little more to kiss her. Hard.

#critical role #jester lavorre #caleb widogast #widojest #writing #just like last time i saw bagel’s art and wanted to write something to go with it #and had to decide what Caleb would bake #i saw a youtube tutorial for Stollen (German holiday bread)#and then thought better of it because it’s basically fruitcake #and i didn’t think Jester would be into fruitcake #also there are no strawberries in Stollen #(it is also true that there is no rolling pin needed for Erdbeerkuchen shhhhh)#in the process of researching this fic i also learned that baking powder was invented in the mid-1800s #so we’re just gonna say that chemical leaveners exist in some form by 812 PD #this is technically canon-compliant for a very specific window of time #insert it somewhere between episodes 115 and 118 and we're golden lol #thanks again to d.k.m. for being my beta for this!

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breanime · 4 years

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How about the Bre’s boys learning how to do their mixed race daughter’s natural hair. 😁

Billy Russo: Billy watches every video he can, and he watches you do her hair, he FaceTimes your mom and asks her some advice on what products to use and where to get them. When he does your daughter’s hair, he plays Disney songs and smiles as she sings along. He’s nervous, but you tell him he’s doing great, and she says things like “good job, Daddy!” “I can see you’re doing your best!” And he just loves you both so much, he wants to do well... and once he’s done, he steps back, breathless--the puffs are perfectly balanced, the part is zigzagged, your baby’s curls are popping... He grins, looking over at you. From then on, he jumps at the chance to do her hair.

Logan Delos: Logan hires a beautician, watches how she does your daughter’s hair, shadows her for a few days, and then takes a whack at it himself. You watch, proud and so in love, as he does her hair, washing and drying it before putting in the detangler and other products, his tongue poking out of his mouth as he works. It takes him twice as long as it would take you, but your daughter is strangely patient with him, and when he’s all finished, he’s so proud of himself. You and your daughter shower him with kisses, and Logan takes about 100 pictures of his handy work.

Jax Teller: Jax takes a long smoke, gives himself a quick pep talk, and goes into the bathroom to tackle his baby girl’s blonde afro. You watch, secretly tapping it on your phone, and you can tell that your man has been doing his homework. He stops and asks her if she’s okay and make sure that he’s not hurting her. He’s intent on braiding it, and he has to take his rings off because they catch in her hair, but once he’s done, he looks up at you for your approval, his grin matching your daughter’s when you give him a thumbs up.

Coco Cruz: “Daddy isn’t used to doing this,” he says, running the comb through her hair, “but I’m gonna try.” “Okay, Daddy,” she chirps back. “And Mommy isn’t gonna laugh or make fun of Daddy...” He raises an eyebrow. “Right, querida?” You nod. You sit back and watch as Coco does her hair, and you giggle when, after he puts a bow in her hair, she puts one in his. So then he comes over and puts a bow in your hair. By the end of it, all three of you look like pretty little princesses.

Angel Reyes: Angel does no prep beyond watching you do her hair, and yet, when he sits down with her in his lap, a comb, a brush, and some gel... He knocks it out of the park. Like... he’s really good. So much so that he becomes the main one to do your daughter’s hair. She starts whining. “I want Daddy to do it!” When you approach her with your bucket of barrettes and bows. It’s so unfair. Although, to be fair--he did watch you do her hair, and your own hair for years so... he had time to watch and learn. “And people say EZ is the genius in the family,” you mutter as Angel does puts beads in your daughter’s hair. He grins, and your daughter giggles, your two angels.

Miguel Galindo: Miguel rolls his sleeves up one day and decides he’s gonna do his baby girl’s hair. He’s watched you do it for the longest, and he may have watched a few tutorial videos (32 videos, to be exact), so he feels ready. He takes his time (much to your daughter’s annoyance), and he makes you stay away while he does her hair. Finally, he calls you in. Your daughter is spinning around in circles, her hair bouncing around her. “Look what Daddy did!” You look over at Miguel, who’s grinning at you. “Look what Daddy did,” he repeats proudly. And you have to admit... the man’s got skills.

Nick Amaro: Nick did Zara’s hair plenty of times before, but the texture of her hair was a little different that your daughter's was, so he felt like he was learning how to do it all over again. He sat by your side, patiently watching the way you did it and asking questions before he took over. He stopped and asked your daughter if he was pulling too hard or being too rough about 50 times. “It’s okay, Daddy, you’re doing a good job!” She said, smiling up at him. Nick’s heart melted. He moisturized her hair and put it into a pretty bun complete with a bow and a headband, and she turned to him, wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a big kiss on the cheek. You may have teared up a little at that...

Johnny Tuturro: Johnny and your daughter are in the bathroom, making a tutorial when you come home. “Okay, and what do we do next, champ?” He asks your daughter. “Now we get the de-tang-u-ler!” She answers. You laugh, leaning against the doorway and watching as Johnny puts the product in her hair, describing the sweet smell to the camera. “Mommy, look!” Your daughter grins at you. “Me and Daddy are doing a Youtube!” “Oh, I see, baby,” you chuckle back, “and of course, daddy can’t be bothered to put on a shirt...” You sit on the sink and watch them, eventually becoming the camerawoman. Once Johnny finishes, your daughter models her new ‘do for you and the camera, a true Tuturro.

Rio: Rio takes this very seriously. He preps for weeks, watching videos, watching you, interviewing you on your technique. At one point, you walk into your room and see your gangster husband in bed doing the hair of one of your daughter’s Cabbage Patch dolls... You only got to take three pictures before he tackled you and took your phone. So when the big day came, he was ready. You took pictures of the process, and once he was done, your daughter said “I so pretty!” As she looked at her reflection. Rio grinned. That was the best review he could have asked for.

*******************************************************************************************

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think! This is the last one for tonight! So good night!

Everything Taglist: @sweetybuzz25 @mrsjaxtellerfan @rhabakoli @encounterthepast @realduckvader @justvnash @knowles-morgan @ateliefloresdaprimavera @evanlys19 @nyxxnoxx @carlaangel86 @luminex3 @jigsawlover10 @gollyderek @otomefromtheheart @lexxierave @crushed-pink-petals @amethyst09 @falsehopesndreams @a-dorky-book-keeper @witchygagirl @glimmerglittergirl @nich0lasmatthews @ben-c-group-therapy @felicity-x0 @amirra88 @yourfellowangel @vibranium-soul @xserenax-13 @whoaitslucyy-blog @gemini0410 @ktiz90 @theoceanhathsolace @starrynite7114

#Billy Russo x reader #logan delos x reader #jax teller x reader #coco cruz x reader #angel reyes x reader #miguel galindo x reader #nick amaro x reader #johnny tuturro x reader #rio x reader #bre's boys #bre's boys preferences

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coldwind-shiningstars · 3 years

Note

ok ok prompts!!! so, I would be Delighted by some more qinxiyao family fic (deleted scenes or things you might have wanted to include in the big bang fic but didn't get to?), or, alternately, anything in the modern tcgf au? anything at all; they're all so excellent <3

both of these are such excellent prompts I started working on both of them, but the modern au got finished first! I’ll probably both a) do a lot of edits on this and b) do the qinxiyao family fic in a week or so, but here this is for now. Also, for those not in James and my brains, this is a very small part of a very large AU! Small note, all characters appearing in this fic are trans; however, He Xuan is still very much an egg and so they are referred to throughout the fic as “he/him,” although SQX at least is aware of this and wondering when to bring it up with her. She is, however, unaware that “Ming Yi” is a stolen identity and He Xuan is actually the eco-terrorist who’s been blowing up her brother’s fish hatcheries. It’s a long story.

If Xie Lian was being honest, he didn't much like the internet. It was so bright and everything moved too fast. People used a bewildering array of slang and images. It was surprisingly difficult to avoid spending hours reading upsetting news stories. People spent days arguing about pornography.

Also, his phone didn't really connect to WiFi very well. Even by the loosest definitions of the word, he hardly counted as a netizen.

People were usually shocked when he told them this, though, because Xie Lian's best friend was one of China's most popular beauty influencers.

Xie Lian's face appeared on her Weibo with some regularity. She talked about him often. He'd gone viral three separate times on Douyin, entirely accidentally.

What Shi Qingxuan was most famous for, however, was makeup tutorials. He had never actually appeared in one of these, but, since there were very few people in the world capable of saying no to a very determined Shi Qingxuan, this was about to change. He was used to being in her charmingly decorated little apartment but not quite used to becoming a decorated thing himself. He'd even put on one of the outfits Hua Cheng had designed and sewn for him, based on some of his old dance costumes and a few frantic weeks of historical research, and kept swishing the skirts around his legs.

Shi Qingxuan started setting up, chattering away to Xie Lian as she did. "You need anything before we start? Bathroom, water, a snack? I edit my videos pretty heavily, so we can always take a break, but it’s good to be comfy."

"No, I'm fine," Xie Lian said, and then had to close his eyes when she clicked on the ring light.

He fiddled with the makeup compacts laid out on the table.

Shi Qingxuan adjusted her light, scootched Xie Lian’s chair a little to the left and a little back, and then fiddled with the camera. It was quite the involved operation, Xie Lian thought; he knew a lot went into making videos, but he hadn’t realized it took this much effort before the camera was even on. Shi Qingxuan had done his makeup before, of course, but mostly just for fun, or something she could take a picture of and post on Weibo. It had been so long since he'd been filmed.

He watched Shi Qingxuan press record on her camera and then sit back and flash it a smile, putting on her Influencer Face. She squeezed his hand under the table.

“Hi everyone, welcome to Feng Shi!” she said, chirpy. “I’m Shi Qingxuan, and today we’re doing xianxia makeup with my good friend, Xie Lian. Now, for this look, we’re going to need…”

When Xie Lian was little, the makeup artists for his dance troupe had known he took about twice as long as anyone else did to get his makeup done. He was the darling of the company, though, so this was tolerated with fondness.

He didn't like the way the foundation felt on his face when it dried. His eyes watered when they put on eyeliner. He liked to spin his chair from side to side.

He'd had much worse things on his face than paint since then, and had learned how to be still.

Shi Qingxuan patted his hand cheerfully as she pulled out the setting powder.

"You're always one of my favorite models," she said. "You're so photogenic and so patient!"

"Thank you," Xie Lian said, and held still while she brushed it in his face.

Ruoye, probably noticing the warmth, slithered out of Xie Lian's robes and curled up on top of his head so she could get the full blast of heat from the ring light. She flickered out her tongue to scent Shi Qingxuan when she leaned in with a liquid eyeliner pen.

Shi Qingxuan made little kissy sounds at her, which only confirmed Xie Lian's certainty that he had good taste in friends. Most people were startled by Ruoye originally, but how they responded to her after Xie Lian introduced them was a good litmus test.

Ruoye settled in, and Xie Lian reached up a finger to stroke her scales.

He was feeling good, content and warm, happy to sit still. Then the apartment door clicked open, and Xie Lian stiffened.

"Ming-xiong? Is that you?" Shi Qingxuan called.

Ming Yi mumbled something back and shuffled into the room, buried deep in his black hoodie. As always, Xie Lian's first thought upon seeing him was wondering how he could see through all that hair.

The hoodie had a fish skeleton painted on it that he recognized instantly as one of Hua Cheng's drawings; it made Xie Lian smile, thinking of how insistent San Lang was that they absolutely weren't friends, no way, there was no particular reason he would make custom hoodies for Ming Yi. The fish were a coincidence. He’d even made Ming Yi custom salmon breakup boots while proclaiming it meant nothing.

Xie Lian, wearing an elaborate hanfu Hua Cheng had designed, sewn, and embroidered himself, even making him a period-appropriate duduo to flatten his chest, absolutely did not buy any of these excuses. Hua Cheng covered people he cared about with his art.

Ming Yi grunted a greeting and wandered off, probably to raid the fridge. Shi Qingxuan winked at Xie Lian.

“I’ll edit most of this out,” she said, conspiratorial, “But my viewers love Ming-xiong. Especially when he’s out of focus in the background. They’ve made memes. I haven’t told them anything about him. It’s good to keep a little mystery! It keeps people watching.”

Xie Lian, having no real idea what she was talking about, smiled and suppressed his instinct to nod. Shi Qingxuan began painting a flower on his forehead with red pigment.

Finally, Shi Qingxuan gently removed Ruoye from Xie Lian’s head and shoulders and settled a wig cap over his hair, then the wig she’d pre-prepared. A few bobby pins, a few tucks, and then she stepped back, grinning.

“Ta-dah! How do you like it, taizi dianxia?”

“It’s beautiful,” Xie Lian said, honestly.

“We’ll end the video here, I think,” she said, “But I’ll get some posed photos of you to edit in here if that’s alright. Oh, tilt your head back and forth a little? Good. Smile at the camera!”

Shi Qingxuan fluttered her fingers at the camera in a wave; Xie Lian waved too, a few seconds later. As she leaned forward to click off the camera he straightened his legs out to try and loosen them up. His knees made terrible crunching sounds as they stretched.

“You can take a little break if you want,” Shi Qingxuan said. “I’ll set up the area where we’ll take photos, but I’ll try to make it quick. You’re a darling for sitting through all this, you know?"

She was already bustling around again. She seemed to have an endless fountain of energy; Xie Lian found it admirable. He laid flat on his back on her bed, careful to not get makeup on her sheets or wrinkle his clothes. Ming Yi sat next to him, eating shrimp chips. He put a few directly into Xie Lian's mouth, feeding him like a little bird, and Xie Lian felt warm. Like Hua Cheng, it could be hard to know when Ming Yi liked you, but there were ways to tell.

He let Shi Qingxuan pose him until she was satisfied with the numbers of pictures she’d taken, trying very hard not to feel like the chuunibyou teenager he’d once been. He felt himself mostly immune to embarrassment at this point, but he supposed there were always exceptions.

Eventually, they cleaned up, although Xie Lian had promised Hua Cheng to show off the full look, so he didn’t get changed or clean his face.

“I’ll buy dinner,” Shi Qingxuan said. “We deserve it. You too, Ming-xiong!”

She herded them both out of the apartment and down the street to a small noodles stall. They all ordered (in He Xuan’s case, three bowls) and Xie Lian was fumbling for his phone when he heard Shi Qingxuan cheerfully tell the clerk to put it all on the same ticket. She tapped her phone to pay for it all before Xie Lian could protest.

A few people asked Xie Lian for pictures as they ate. He posed obligingly, hoping he hadn't spilled any sauce on his clothes while eating. When he was done, he packed up his leftovers, let Shi Qingxuan nag him into calling a Didi instead of trying to walk home, and bid both her and Ming Yi farewell. Ruoye, who had spent most of the time they were eating in Xie Lian's backpack, made a brief appearance too like she wanted to say goodbye as well.

Xie Lian clicked his own apartment door closed quietly and tiptoed over to slide his leftovers into the refrigerator. Down the hall, a light shone out from underneath Hua Cheng's studio door.

There was an old picture of the two of them on the fridge; it was them in a hospital pediatric ward group room. Xie Lian, age fifteen, was beaming at the camera, his "FIGHT! JUVENILE SLE" shirt a bright red and his pants an immaculate white. Next to him, Hua Cheng, his right eye patched with patterned tape, bald and tiny, stared up at him with devotion.

Ruoye bonked her head gently on the freezer door. Xie Lian pulled out one of her mice and slid her gently into her tank before giving her the treat; she was swallowing the mouse as he left the kitchen.

Hua Cheng turned to him as Xie Lian opened the door to his studio. His eye got wide, and his face looked like it did sometimes when he looked at Xie Lian, like he was seeing something holy. He slid his headphones off his ears.

Xie Lian did a little twirl for him, letting him see the way the fabric moved, and then tilted his face up for a kiss when Hua Cheng came over to him.

“Gege, you look beautiful,” he said.

“San Lang,” said Xie Lian. “It’s all you and Qingxuan. I’ll get her to send you the pictures later.”

Hua Cheng kissed the top of his head. He was dressed down, in a soft shirt and pants, not wearing his prosthetic eye. Xie Lian leaned his head into Hua Cheng’s chest.

“Gege seems tired,” Hua Cheng said. “Would you like to get ready for bed? Do you need dinner or your medicine? I can help you take all that off.”

“San Lang, you’re working,” Xie Lian said. “I already ate, so I think I’d like to sleep. But you don’t have to help.”

"Gege is more important than commissions," Hua Cheng said, and Xie Lian let him bundle him off to bed.

post about prompts!

#replies #my writing #body in abyss heart in paradise #paradife-loft

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