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mizunetzu · 3 years

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Hey! So, I decided to re-write the one female fic on my blog with male pronouns. The reason I had a female fic up in the first place was because I had a mutual who wanted to do a writing trade, but she never held her end of the deal, nor contacted me once the fic was done to my knowledge. She requested this Akaashi fic, so I hope more of you could enjoy it now that it has been male-readerfied. Happy reading!

-Mr. Mizunetzu

P.s. - the old writing makes me cringe.

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Akaashi x reader - Where Are You Going? (Male-readerfied)

⚠️Warnings - cringey old writing, Bokuto never saying “Akaashi” right

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

“Hey hey hey-Where you going, Akaagjnshi?”

The black haired boy froze in his tracks. Bokuto tilted his head slightly to the side, holding a volleyball he was about to spike. Akaashi gripped his volleyball bag tighter.

“...I’m going home. My mom needs me to help with dinner.”

It was such a weak, foolish excuse, Akaashi told himself. But knowing Bokuto, it would suffice.

Bokuto’s smiled quickly returned to his face. “Ah! You should’ve just said so! Tell your mom I said hi!”

“I will,” Akaashi said, dipping out of the gym quietly. Bokuto paid no attention to the small blush Akaashi was harboring, along with the few beads of sweat running down his temple.

————

“You’re gonna be late today, Aakkaggshi?”

“Yes, I...my teacher wanted to review a lesson I didn’t really understand. I can come to practice a bit late though.”

Another dumb excuse. But Bokuto’s stupidly wide grin assured him it worked everytime. Some part of Akaashi felt bad for lying to Bokuto, but the guilt eventually got buried and lost in all of the ‘I’m helping my mother with dinner’ and ‘I have to leave early to study’ excuses.

“All right! But y’know...I can come with you if you want-“

“NO!”

Bokuto stared at Akaashi with a blank face. Akaashi cleared his throat.

I-I mean, you’ll probably just get bored—and it’s gonna be quick, no need, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto blinked. Akaashi almost never got flustered or embarrassed. Was he...hiding something?

Eh, probably not.

“O...kay, I’ll see you later dude...?” Bokuto punched Akaashi lightly on the shoulder before leaving. Akaashi sighed heavily, before walking in the opposite direction of the classrooms, into the second gym.

Weird, Bokuto thought. That’s the boy’s basketball gym.

“I wonder why his teacher wants to meet him there...”

—————

“I’m leaving early, Bokuto-san.”

“Ah-is it you’re mom again? You must be a really good cook or something, if she always wants you to make dinner.”

“Yeah. I’m going now, goodbye.”

“Bye, Ajdjsfjdksjfdjkahshi!”

Bokuto waved absentmindedly at Akaashi, who bowed curtly. It’s been happening every other day, so he kind of got used to him leaving early or showing up a few minutes late.

“Oi Bokuto-don’t you think it’s weird that Akaashi-kun’s always leaving practice early?” Sarukui butted in, watching Akaashi as he hunched over, practically tip-toeing out the door.

“Yeah-why does he get to cut practice but we have to stay the whole time?” Konoha joined in, resting a hand on Bokuto’s shoulder. Bokuto brought a finger to his chin.

“Well-“ Bokuto gestured towards the door. “His mom is always telling him to come home.”

“Why?”

“To make dinner!”

Sarukui and Konoha stared at their captain like a child saying “two plus two is five.”

“You can’t be fucking serious, Bokuto.”

“I am!” Bokuto whined.

“What...what about the times he shows up to practice late?”

“That’s easy!” Bokuto clasped his hands together, eager to have another question he knew the answer to. “He says his teacher wants him to stay behind to teach him stuff he didn’t understand.”

“Bokuto...” Konoha deadpanned. “Akaashi’s in class six-he’s a straight A student.”

Bokuto furrowed his eyebrows. “Well, I-I haven’t thought about tha-“

“And Akaashi’s mom loves to cook-why would she make him do it?”

“Well...” Bokuto choked out, voice cracking a bit. “I did find it strange that he took his extra classes in the 2nd gym...”

Konoha and Sarukui looked at eachother. “....Isn’t that where the boy‘s basketball practice goes on?”

They all stood in silence for a few beats. Bokuto squinted his eyes and knitted his brows together. He still didn’t know what was going on.

A light went off in Konoha and Sarukui’s heads, gasping lightly. Bokuto tilted his head, confused.

“You don’t think he...” Konoha mused, unable to suppress the mischievous smirk growing on his face.

“Akaashi you sly dog.” Sarukui and Konoha shared a knowing smirk between eachother, while Bokuto scratched his neck awkwardly.

“Uh-“

“Bokuto...captain...buddyyyyy....” Sarukui sang. “Can me and Konoha leave practice early tomorrow? Around when Akaashi does? We’ll let you come with us~”

Ah yes, the power of friendship. How could Bokuto possibly refuse?

——————

“I’m heading home, Bokuto-san.”

“Dinner again?”

“...yes.” Akaashi was slipping his bag over his shoulder when Bokuto suddenly piped up.

“Oh! Can me, Sarukui, and Konoha come t-“

A foot was firmly jabbed into Bokuto’s own, earning a yelp from the grey-haired boy. Akaashi looked at Konoha strangely as Sarukui put a hand around Bokuto’s shoulders.

“Don’t mind Bokuto, dude. Tell your mom we said hi.”

Akaashi blinked, suspicious. “Al...right..” he waved it off as them probably going to do something perverted or stupid while he was gone, and bowed curtly once more. “Goodbye then.”

The two chorused out a farewell as Bokuto whimpered in pain and betrayal. Bokuto grabbed hold of his foot as Konoha and Sarukui’s innocent smiles dropped.

“Tail him.”

“I know, I know. Let’s go Bokuto.” Sarukui grabbed Bokuto by the sleeve of his shirt, dragging him out the gym door while they kept a safe distance from Akaashi.

“So he was going to the basketball gym...sneaky bastard.” Konoha smirked. They watched as Akaashi speedwalked to the entrance of the second gym, dusting off any dirt on his volleyball shirt and fixing his already pretty short hair.

The three ducked behind the wall of the gym, dashing towards it when Akaashi turned his back. “What’s he gonna do-he’s just standing there!”

Sure enough, Akaashi was standing idly a few feet from the door of the gym, seemingly waiting for something or someone. He messed with his fingers and tapped his foot anxiously, even though his face was completely calm and relaxed.

After what seemed like forever, the door of the gym opened ever so slightly, wide enough only for someone to slip though. Akaashi’s face lit up-even though he still held his neutral gaze-and he quickly let go of his own hands, letting them drop to his side. Bokuto and Konoha gasped, while Sarukui face held a knowing, shit-eating grin.

Standing in front of Akaashi was a boy wearing the Fukurodani basketball team jacket, and holding a basketball in his hands. He hazily tossed the ball back into the gym, before enveloping Akaashi into a hug.

Akaashi tentatively wrapped his arms around his torso. It looked like they were saying something to eachother, but Sarukui and Konoha couldn’t make out the words from their distance.

“Who would’ve thought Akaashi was dating someone...I for sure thought he was buying drugs or something...” Sarukui mumbled, eyes glued to the scene infront of them.

“Well-I thought Bokuto for sure would’ve known, right Bo? ...Bokuto?” Konoha turned to where Bokuto was standing, to see that he had disappeared. The two boys went pale.

“Oh no...” Sarukui broke into a cold sweat as he saw their loud was captian strutting towards them.

“Bokuto! You dumbass! Get back here!” Konoha whisper yelled, flailing his arms to try and grab Bokuto’s attention. It was too late. Akaashi and the boy took sight of him. Akaashi looked like a deer in headlights, while the boy looked at Bokuto with a nervous smile.

“Hey hey hey! Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend Akkaggshi!” Akaashi said nothing, instead tightening his hold on his (h/c)-haired boyfriend.

Konoha and Sarukui sighed, and stepped out from their hiding spot. Well, it’s not really a hiding spot if you aren’t hiding from something anymore.

“Who’s the guy, Akaashi?” Kohona said, smirking at the (h/c)-haired man next to Akaashi. He stepped forward.

“I’m (L/n) (Y/n), nice to meet you.” (Y/n) said. Akaashi deflated, embarrassed.

“(Y/n), please-“

“AWWW-you guys are on a first name basis?! How cute~!” Konoha made goo-goo eyes at Akaashi, while Sarukui held up a heart with his fingers. Bokuto slung his arm around Akaashi, making him stumble back slightly while he yelled things like “hey hey hey!” or “my man bro Alasshshshi!”

Akaashi looked eyes with (Y/n), practically pleading for help with his eyes while containing the last embers of his neutral collected gaze. (Y/n) just laughed, and booped him on the nose.

“They seem like nice people-why didn’t you introduce me to your team before?” Akaashi freed himself from Bokuto’s grip.

“...We’re gonna be late, let’s go-“ Akaashi linked arms with (Y/n) and tried to usher him away.

(Y/n) planted his feet firm and smirked.

“Noooo...I wanna meet your friends, Keiji-chan~”

“OOHHH HE CALLED HIM KEIJI-CHAN KONOHA THEIR PRACTICALLY MARRIED NOW-“

“Shut up, please” Akaashi begged. He pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling sharply. “(Y/n), that’s Sarukui-san, that’s Konoha-san, and that’s Bokuto-san.” Akaashi gestured to each of the boys standing around them.

“Now that you all are well acquainted, please, can we get going-?“

Akaashis pleads were lost in the sound of questions and conversations being flung at them. All going in one ear and out the other. He sighed in defeat.

After what seemed like forever, (Y/n) pried himself from the volleyball players and interlocked his fingers with Akaashi’s. “Okaaaay, lets go” he said with a chuckle.

“Finally...” thank the heavens.

“Where you guys going?” Bokuto asked. (Y/n) glanced to Akaashi for approval. Akaashi nodded.

“We’re going to grab some dinner at this one ramen place, we do it every Thursday.”

“Oh! Oh! Can we come?” Bokuto cheered. He looked like a puppy clinging to (Y/n’s) side. Akaashi deadpanned while (Y/n) laughed internally.

“But-we-“

“Sure! Let’s go!” (Y/n) said, looking straight into Akaashi’s wilting eyes. The boys clamored past him, (Y/n) in their clutches, heading out of the school to wherever they were going.

“Oh! And, Akaashi?” Konoha said, stopping in his tracks and looking back at Akaashi. He had his feet planted into the ground with a devastated look on his face. Konoha smirked, and Akaashi wished he just stayed at practice.

“That’s what you get for skipping practice so much.”

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#akaashi x you #akaashi x male reader #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji #akaashi oneshot #akaashi imagine #akaashi scenarios #akaashi keiji x reader #poor akaashi #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x male reader #hq x male reader

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pilothusband · 3 years

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Abducted Amphora

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol (not to an excess), food mention (they eat pizza), non-explicit tension, mentions of stealing shit, hints at a boss/employee relationship so there’s a slight power balance there, age gap that isn’t mentioned (he has years of service and she’s almost brand new)

Word count: 1,972

Author’s note: Written for @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday! Lightly edited, unbeta’d. This one is pretty tame compared to my other works. Thinking about turning it into a snapshot series. Let me know what you think!

A smattering of footsteps clatter throughout the courtyard, echoing off the old walls that surround you. Sprawling greens adorn almost every inch of the balcony, reaching out to an impossibly blue pool situated in the middle. You can’t help but gawk as you walk through the museum, trailing your boss by a few paces who is currently following the curator, a middle-aged woman with bouncy curls and a wardrobe to die for.

A few minutes prior, she had introduced herself as Vanessa Harrington, given a firm handshake to the two of you, and hastily made her way to the exhibit where an expensive piece of artwork was stolen.

“What’s weird is, this isn’t even the most expensive piece the museum owns,” she says, glancing backwards and waving her hands. How she manages to walk briskly in stiletto heels without looking forwards is a mystery to you.

The stolen piece is a Panathenaic amphora from Hellenistic era Greece. It was most likely used to fill with olive oil to give to Olympic champions. Not to say it isn’t valuable, but it had sat nondescript amongst bright and flashy paintings that were incredibly rare and sought after.

“And the security cameras were disabled prior to the theft?” Your boss, Marcus Pike asks, scribbling in his notepad. Vanessa nods in confirmation. “Then they were enabled right after, as if the thieves knew how to hack into the system.”

“Either they knew how to hack into the security system or they had enough insider knowledge to disable it,” you voice your thoughts, not even aware that you were speaking out loud.

Marcus looks over to you, his warm brown eyes flicking over your face in acknowledgement.

Every time his eyes meet yours, you feel yourself freeze up for a moment. No matter that you’ve been working with him for nearly a year, it’s as if time stops every time you look at him. His jaw, square and strong, along with his soft brown eyes that give away to his emotions at any moment. His broad shoulders always manage to get your pulse going, along with his small waist, showcased by the form-fitting button downs he wore under his suit coat.

“We’re going to need all information regarding museum personnel, as well as any vendors that drop by regularly,” Marcus shifts his attention over to Vanessa, who nods decisively.

“Absolutely. I have that all on my office desktop and can get that to you ASAP.”

Vanessa doles out more details for a few minutes and Marcus jots them down– in his unreadable handwriting no doubt– and then Vanessa bids you adieu and spins on her heel to her office, giving you two free rein over the museum.

There isn’t anymore DNA evidence to go over. The local police already had their personnel collect it days prior and the scene was spotless once you arrived. The thieves had been meticulous in leaving as little evidence as possible. The only fingerprints found were already processed and pending a match. They were most likely from an employee, and there’s a good chance it was just normal prints left behind from dusting priceless artwork.

Once Vanessa is out of the room, Marcus turns and places a big hand on your bicep.

“Good job back there, agent.” He flashes an easy grin. Marcus is an incredible boss. He’s driven, observant, kind, and knows when he has to make the tough calls. He’s a natural-born leader. You haven’t been with the bureau for long, being a junior agent among a team of seasoned professionals, but comparing him to other supervisory agents you have met, he’s warm and kind, always making sure his team is in good shape. He’s the kind of guy who’s prepared for anything, whether it be backup for a shootout with an unsub or someone in the room needs a pen before a staff meeting.

You can’t help but feel flushed at his praise. Despite Marcus’ easygoing nature and his openness with the team, he always seems to keep you at an arms’ length. It was getting to the point where you were wondering if he was regretting hiring you in the first place. Marcus often rotates the team when it comes to working directly with him on cases, and you have only worked directly with him once– your first ever case.

Initially you’re convinced you fucked up so badly that he didn’t want to pair up with you afterwards, but then the case report made its way back to your desk and your evaluation was normal, good even.

“Thank you,” you reply, ducking your face down to hide the growing heat licking its way up your face.

“Let’s grab some lunch, get those files from Mrs. Harringon and start digging.”

You nod in agreement and turn, walking towards the exit. You don’t notice the subtle movement, but Marcus trails you, arm raised as if he’s about to touch your waist, but pauses halfway through and scratches at his chin.

Later on that night, you’re holed up in Marcus’ hotel room, hunched over your laptop reading up on all of the museum employees. Marcus took on the task of reading over vendor files, his shoulders set much straighter.

Your back is screaming at you and your eyes are sapped of all moisture as you blink rapidly, trying to will your tear ducts into submission. It’s too early in the night to fall asleep with the amount of work you have to look forward to, and the longer it takes you to crack the case, the more likely the thieves are to get away with the crime.

“I think we could use a break,” Marcus says from across the room. You look up blearily, noting the look of concern he’s giving you, brow furrowed. He must have caught you in your tired state somehow, between poring over files and jiggling his leg absent-mindedly.

“Can’t argue with that,” you chuckle, rubbing at your eyes.

“I’ll order room service, compliments of the bureau,” he says, smiling sideways. “I’m feeling pizza, what do you think?”

“Pizza sounds heavenly,” you groan.

“What do you want to drink?” Marcus asks, his eyes scanning over the menu unfolded next to his laptop.

“Oh, uh,” you hesitate, trying to decide on caffeine or something healthier. “I think the room has plenty of water.”

“I was thinking something a little stronger,” he says, a small grin making its way over his features. “Nothing too crazy, since we still have work to do.”

“What’s your opinion on red wine?” You ask, wanting to select something you both can agree on.

“I love it,” he says, giving you a toothy smile. “Pinot Noir?”

“Sounds perfect.”

An hour later, you’re both seated on the floor, pizza box spread open between your bodies, munching away at the slices of pepperoni you both decided on and sharing the bottle of wine Marcus ordered.

“Turns out it’s bad optics for the boss to drunkenly sing 9 to 5 by Dolly Parton off-key, and I still get teased for it to this day, which is why I refuse to join the team on karaoke nights,” Marcus finishes. You’re clutching your stomach as you laugh at his story, head thrown back as you giggle.

You’ve only had a glass and a half of wine at this point, but you can already feel a persistent buzzing in your brain, your head feeling much lighter and much heavier simultaneously. This is what you get for skipping breakfast and lunch, opting to replace them with an afternoon snack and a late dinner.

Marcus laughs along with you, shaking his head and looking down at his slice of pizza.

Your laughter dies down and there’s a moment where it’s quiet, the only noise in the room being Marcus chewing on the crust of his pizza slice, and you taking a sip from your glass.

“This is a nice change,” you blurt out, immediately regretting your outburst.

“Mmm,” Marcus hums around the bite in his mouth. He swallows and looks up at you in question.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

Your eyes meet after he speaks and you can feel your heartbeat accelerating in your chest. God, why did you have to open your big mouth?

“Oh, nothing,” you shake your head. “It’s just…”

You don’t continue and Marcus shifts on his knees, leaning forwards to spur you on.

“It’s just what?”

“Well, I don’t know, it’s stupid.” You say, studying the box of pizza below you, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“Nothing you could ever say is stupid,” he says with conviction. His tone makes you look up at him in wonder.

“Tell me, please,” he adds softly.

“Well, I thought you didn’t like me. Or that you didn’t think I was a good agent.” You can feel your stomach plunging and your cheeks burning at the admission.

“Why would you think that?” Marcus almost looks hurt.

“God, it’s dumb,” you babble. “But I noticed you haven’t had me partner with you on a case in ages, and you seem to get on with the rest of the team so much easier.”

You risk another look into Marcus’ eyes and he looks absolutely crushed. He cards a hand through his locks and his eyes look far away for a moment. You physically deflate, feeling like the biggest asshole on the planet.

“Hey,” he says, scooting forward and moving the pizza box aside. “You’re an amazing agent. Everything I put in your evals are the truth.”

You don’t reply, but smile softly at him.

“I’m so sorry I’ve made you feel undervalued,” he puts a hand on your shoulder and squeezes it. The look on his face, much closer to yours now, is absolutely putting you through the ringer.

Marcus looks disheveled, which is rare for him, as he always looks put-together in the office, not a hair or thread out of place in his tailored suits. His hair is sticking up and his tie is loosened. His brow is furrowed in concern and you have the overwhelming urge to soothe your thumb over it.

“I just–,” he starts and pauses, trying to come up with the right words. “I was so distracted during that case with you, and I never want to put you in that kind of danger again. Especially as a junior agent.”

Distracted?

“What do you mean?” You ask, blinking in confusion. What could have possibly distracted him from the case? This man, so motivated, so focused. He was diligent to a fault, at times.

“I–”

He’s cut off by his cell phone, ringing insistently in his pants pocket. He lifts a finger to pause the conversation and answers the phone.

His expression is focused as he listens to the other end of the line, murmuring affirmations as the call continues.

“Okay, sounds good. We’ll be there first thing in the morning.”

He hangs up the phone, shifts his legs and stuffs it back in his pocket.

“We’ve got a lead on the suspects,” he tells you. “A bodega near the museum has a security camera that caught a large utility van parked in front, right around the time the amphora was stolen. The owner said they’re only available to talk before they open, so we have to be there by 5:30 AM.”

You scramble to your feet and shut your laptop while Marcus clears the pizza and wine. You watch him silently as he finishes the task, noting his stiff shoulders and the carefully neutral expression on his face.

You’ll have to ask Marcus about the conversation later, if you can work yourself up to it. For now, you’ll let your imagination run wild and hope someday you can get over this juvenile crush you have on your boss.

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#marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal #writer wednesday #marcus pike fanfiction

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angryschnauzer · 4 years

Text

Superior Specimen - Chapter 8

Summary: One night when you are following the Archaeology tag on instagram you stumbled across a fun looking dig… and an even more interesting Paleontologist who soon follows you back. Over the following weeks you start chatting and a friendship soon grows.

Relationship: AU Henry Cavill x Female Reader (No race or body shape mentioned)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

Warnings: Slow Burn, NSFW, 18+, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex, Drunken Piggy Back Rides, Oral Sex (Female Recieving), Drama, Theft, Amateur Heroics, Hospital Visit, Shower Sex, Oral Sex (Male Receiving), Blow Job, Fingering, Lavish lifestyle, Henry is loaded, The Shard, Expensive Gifts, Sixty nine, Unprotected Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Public Sex, Exhibitionism, Angst, Argument, Jealousy, Talk of car crashes, heroics, rough sex, use of safe words, Anal play,

I do not operate a tag list, but please follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications, as you will then be notified whenever i post something new.

I don’t have a masterlist, but all my works are on AO3, link here. Usually i post oneshots to Tumblr and AO3, and multichapters exclusively to AO3, but as this is my first henry story and its going to be a short series, i’ll post to both places.

Chapter 8

On the tube an old woman had offered you a tissue and had whispered quietly;

“He’s not worth crying over my dear”

You swallowed and smiled weakly at her;

“Unfortunately he was… he was just an idiot too”

“They all are my dear, they all are”

She got off at the next stop, giving you a pat on the arm before leaving the carriage, leaving you ride the rest of the way to Fulham Broadway on your own.

You were on autopilot when you arrived, walking through the small shopping mall that had grown around the tube station, grabbing a pair of overpriced knock-off designer sunglasses from the concession stand to hide your puffy and red eyes, swollen from crying. As you stood in the crowd at the lights to cross the road, a stream of Ambulances and Police cars screamed past, lights and sirens blasting, but it was London, every day there was a crisis or accident and you were used to them.

The walk to your flat was quick, just a few roads from the tube, and you were thankful you’d brought your small clutch bag from the hotel room that had your phone, wallet, and keys in. Once inside you pulled off your clothing, everything Henry had bought for you, tossing it into a heap on the floor before you climbed into bed and curled into a ball, sobbing into the pillow.

You woke to the sound of a metal on plastic crunch from the street outside, familiar with the sound and you knew it was vehicle vs wheelie bin, an all too familiar occurrence when collection day was on a Friday and people went out that night, so the street would still be littered with bins the following day. Staring up at the ceiling you heard the doorbell ring, glaring at the ceiling but refusing to move. You didn’t care if your bin that had ended up a casualty of a car not looking where it was going, so when the bell finally timed out you closed your eyes… only to be rudely disturbed by a loud knocking on the door a minute later, a muffled voice from the other side;

“Princess… it’s me; Henry… please, just tell me you’re ok… I’ve got to know you’re ok…”

You could feel your emotions rising within you; a heat, an anger, and as the knocking continued you grabbed the dressing gown hanging on the back of the door and was still tying it as you pulled the door open, but surprised to see state of Henry, his clothes a mess and his face blotchy;

“What the hell happe…”

Your words were cut short as he pulled you into his arms, hugging you tight;

“You’re alright… my god, you’re ok…”

“Henry, what is going on?”

He let you go and started pacing;

“I was an ass, I didn’t follow you, I was stupid… I tried calling you but you never picked up…”

“I had it on silent… I didn’t want anyone to disturb our date”

“And then the accident, I’d gone back to the hotel, I knew it was the closest tube to where we were...”

“Accident?”

“There was an accident, on the road outside the London Bridge Tube, a bus and council truck collided and ran into the queue… I stayed and helped the emergency services; I was trying to find you… but you weren’t there…”

Your hand was over your mouth, tears pooling on your lashes as you looked at him, and realised he cared so much for you that he had literally pulled people out of the wreckage of an major accident because he thought he had lost you. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you cradled the back of his head as he slumped to the floor, sobbing into your shoulder and the softness of your dressing gown.

Finally he pulled his head back, a weak smile on his face as he looked into your eyes, and you saw a different Henry, one that was fragile, one that needed you as much as you needed him.

“C’mon, let me put the kettle on”

Sipping on sweet tea as you both sat at the kitchen table, dunking Digestive biscuits in the deep brown steaming mugs, you looked him up and down;

“You are a mess”

He glanced down and realised his shirt and jeans were covered in dirt, grime, and in some places blood;

“You’re right” he paused before looking back to you; “Look, I’ve got a suggestion… pack a bag. Comfy clothing, overnight things. We’ll head back to the hotel and collect our things, then head back to my place. I’ll cook dinner and we can talk… ask all those things we’ve both wanted to ask since we met, yeah?”

He looked at you like a hopeful puppy, his deep blue eyes watery where he feared you would say no, but as you nodded he let out the breath he had been holding, and a genuine smile spread over his face.

Henry opened the door to his place and stepped aside, letting you enter and look around as he shut the door, resting all the bags from the hotel room on the shiny white tiles that covered the floor.

“This is your place?”

“It’s home for the next few months” he shut the door and wrapped his arm around you; “I gave up on having a permanent place about five years ago. I would always come back to a dust filled nightmare and a fridge that was a biohazard. I keep a PO box for any mail and a storage unit for my things that I don’t need when I’m away”

You looked at him;

“It sounds very… lonely…”

He paused, considering your words;

“I’ve never thought about it that way… but, you’re right” he wrapped his arms around you, his gaze intense; “I’m sorry I over-reacted earlier… about your flatmate. I was just… I don’t know, so focused I guess on this amazing thing we have now, and what we were talking about last night… how those I fall for push me away when I have to leave… I could only think ‘this guy will be around when I’m not’...”

You reached up and cupped his cheek with your hand, realising in that moment that for all the bravado and confidence, beneath that Henry was just like you, like anyone else, and feared losing those he cared for;

“I would wait… I will wait…”

You pressed a kiss to his lips, and the pair of you just held each other for the longest time, before he pulled away;

“What kind of host am I? I haven’t even offered you a cup of tea!”

Laughing you followed him into the kitchen, looking around at the sparse worktops, all the cupboards pristine white. Even the appliances were just plain brushed aluminium. As the kettle bubbled away you pushed yourself up onto the central island, sitting on the marble countertop as you watched Henry move around the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out the carton of milk, sniffing it and cringing;

“Okay, tea may be off the menu… the milk’s off”

Pausing he opened the cupboard, shoulders slumping when he saw the empty tea caddy;

“No tea either…”

Leaning back you pulled your phone from your pocket and opened google maps;

“This is Warwick Square, right?”

“Yes”

You pinched the screen and zoomed out, jumping off the counter;

“C’mon, there’s a Tesco Express just around the corner”

Walking hand in hand around Pimlico with Henry, it dawned on you that you had never visited this part of London, the sights and sounds much like most of the city, but where each little borough had its own character. Once you reached the supermarket he grabbed a basket and picked up the few things he needed, before his hand hovered over the selection of biscuits;

“Ok, make or break time to find out if we are truly compatible” his voice had an element of mischief in it as he spoke; “Milk or Dark Chocolate Digestives?”

You looked at the selection before you set your hand down on the bright blue packet;

“Trick question, we both know the true answer is Milk Chocolate Hobnobs”

He laughed as you dropped the packet into the basket, wrapping his massive arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest;

“I knew there was a reason I loved you” he turned to the row of refrigerators on the other side of the isle, unaware of what he’d said, and how your eyes were a little wider as you took in his admission; “Shall I make some burnt offerings for you tonight? I have somewhat limited culinary skills, but I can rustle up something with meat or fish…”

Nodding you were still a little stunned, finally finding your voice;

“Yeah, I’ll eat anything”

He cocked an eyebrow and you playfully batted at his arm;

“Oh shut up” you laughed

Dinner had been nice. An easy dish of roasted pork, Henry had thrown in some potatoes and had let them roast with alongside, and a simple salad. The one thing he did have readily stocked in his place was alcohol, and between the two of you an entire bottle of vintage Pinot Noir had been sunk over the course of dinner, and as you watched him stack the dishwasher you spread out on the massive white sofa that dominated the open plan space. You couldn’t help yourself but you popped the button of your jeans, letting out a sigh of relief.

Checking your phone you reopened your roommates’ email and read it again, before hitting reply. You knew deep down you wouldn’t be able to get a mortgage, but asked that you be kept in the loop and would start looking for another place come Monday. Having hit send you saw another email, this time from your Manager, requesting that you attend a review on Monday morning;

“Huh, so much for giving me a week off” you muttered to yourself, before looking up and seeing Henry approaching you, two full glasses of red wind in hand.

“Everything ok?”

Taking the glass you smiled;

“Yeah, work want me to go in for a review on Monday morning”

“Did they say what it was about?”

“No, but I’m guessing ‘playing heroics and injuring yourself on the job isn’t in your job description, please don’t sue us’ is probably on the agenda”

Settling next to you he rested a hand on your thigh, giving it a squeeze;

“I’m sure you’re right” he sipped at the wine before setting it on the small table at the side; “Hey I meant to ask, does your roommate have an Instagram account or Facebook page?”

“Yeah, I’ll pull it up. Its where he’s trying to do more serious photography”

He nodded and tapped at his phone for a few seconds before setting it aside, raising his glass again and clinking it against yours;

“Cheers”

By the time the last dregs of the 2nd bottle of wine were drained from your glasses you were drunk as skunks and just an amorous. You were draped over Henry’s lap, his hand was attempting to sneak under your t-shirt as you curled one hand in his hair, wrapping a deep brown strand around your finger as you kissed him lazily. When his hand finally found your breast you moaned at his touch, his lips brushing against your neck;

“I think we should take this to the bedroom”

You giggled;

“With the amount of wine we’ve had? Can you still get it up?”

He pushed his crotch up against you;

“Princess I’m already ‘up’, now I need to be in, and I don’t care which hole, I just want to feel you around my dick as we have some nasty drunk sex”

You attempted to slide off his lap and land on your feet, but what really happened was you tumbled into a heap on the soft white rug, one leg still on the sofa as the other hit the coffee table and your ass in the air;

“Help!” you cried out, giggling as Henry stood and swayed, before wrapping his arm around your waist and carrying you under his arm to the bedroom like a misbehaving poodle in Harrods.

He dropped you onto the bed and in the light from the lounge you watched as he yanked his t-shirt over his head, and started to unfasten his jeans, letting out a sigh of relief when the massive bulge in his boxers was allowed more room to grow. With a growl be bent over you and pulled your jeans down your legs, your panties following suit, before flipping you over so you were on your front. He went to reach for your ass but had forgotten his jeans were still around his thighs, and he proceeded to trip-tumble onto the bed beside you. You couldn’t help but to giggle into the soft duvet, and it earned you a single spank on your ass that make you squeal.

Rolling onto your back you looked at Henry as he huffed and puffed to take his jeans and boxers off, and you spread your legs as your hands strayed to your pussy;

“Are you doing to fuck me, or shall I just get myself started?” you said with more sass than needed, but it earned you a low groan and you could have sworn you heard seams ripping as he finally rid himself of his clothes.

“Cheeky wench!” Henry pounced on you, pulling your top over your head before fumbling with your bra, finally getting you out of it as he flung it across the room and you heard it hit something in the darkness; “I’ll show you, gonna fuck you so good you’ll have to sit on a cushion when you go into work on Monday”

He flipped you over and pulled your ass up, and you instinctively arched your back and bared yourself to him, prone and ready, begging for attention. You felt his hands smooth over your ass before dipping between your legs;

“Already so wet for me, you need me to fuck this cunt Princess? Fill you up with my cum? Or should I cum over your beautiful tits, so you can watch me as I spray my load on you, huh?”

He slid two fingers into your soaked hole, stretching you as his thumb found your clit and he rubbed harshly at it, the wine making him lose his finesse but up his pressure. When he pulled his fingers out you let out a needy whine, only to feel him press his dick against you, rutting into your crease and smearing your juices over himself.

The friction was delicious, and you found yourself pressing back and eager for more, earning a low chuckle to rumble up from Henry’s chest;

“You like that Princess? Like me rubbing my dick against your asshole?”

“Oh fuck… fuck… more…”

You felt him spit on your ass as he lowered his dick and slowly but firmly filled your pussy. As you were getting used to be filled so deep you felt his thumb press against your asshole;

“NERD!”

Suddenly Henry stopped;

“Princess?”

You turned, looking over your shoulder;

“Look Hen, I may be up for some anal play, but lube… you gotta use lube…”

You saw him look back and forth between your ass and his bedside drawers, as if trying to work out whether to forget the ass play and just fuck your pussy, or to give up your pussy for just a few seconds and get the lube. In the end the lube won, and he quickly slid out of you, leaning across the bed and yanking the drawer open, before pulling out a small bottle of Durex Lube. You saw it and grinned;

“Ooh nice one. Make sure there’s enough for a tit-wank in the morning”

Henry paused and looked at you, and you could almost see his brain short circuiting at what you’d said as it fought through the wine haze;

“Fuck, if I didn’t want to fuck you doggy style quite so much I’d say let’s do that now…”

He settled behind you and rammed his dick straight back into you, making you squeal as he filled you. You heard the quiet squeeze of the pump on the bottle before the cool gel fell on the crease of your ass and his fingers started to massage against your back door. He ran his finger around and around your brown rose, and you could feel yourself relaxing and trying to push back to get him to go further, making you whine;

“Please Hen… do something…”

He ran his thumb over your asshole and rested it on it before finally pushing in, holding the digit inside just up to the first knuckle, and that’s when he started to move in your pussy.

“So. Fucking. Good. My dirty little Princess…”

You whined for more, for him to go harder, deeper, and he did so with glee;

“You want more? Fuck yes, take my dick, can feel your insides parting for me, you like my thumb in your ass? Like being double stuffed?”

“Fuck…” your head was swimming, your chest resting against the bed as you snuck your hand between your legs and started to strum at your clit, urging your orgasm on as Henry turned into a feral beast behind you, fucking you raw and dirty, you pushing back for each thrust to feel him deeper and split you wider.

Your orgasm happened without warning, screaming out his name as you came so hard he was sure if he hadn’t pulled his thumb out your muscles would have broken the bones in it. Your knees gave way and you slumped down onto the bed, Henry still deep inside you, fucking you as you lay spent on the bed;

“So close… almost there…

“Cum on my ass Hen…” you muttered as he railed into you, and you heard a groan as he pulled out of you, seconds later the splash of his hot seed landing on your naked ass, back and thighs.

For a moment everything went quiet before you felt him wiping his cum from you, and he moved you in the bed until you were curled up in his arms, the little spoon to his big;

“You’re fucking amazing Princess, I fucking love you so much” he slurred, before the two of you feel asleep in drunken stupors.

Chapter 9 >>>

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x you #henry cavill au

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ithinkthereforiamfandom · 3 years

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MarvelLock

(As a welcome to my newest Patreon Kate (sorry this took so long dear one), and I confess a touch of self indulgence. Loki was Actually first in Mitguard many years before Thor, and he met an interesting human, who was high as kite!) Established Johnlock, Established LokiSigyn,

In this AU Loki does not die on that ship and indeed finds the sunshine again!

Loki landed in Midgard, he had heard tales of this land where his people had once been Gods and had also heard endless lectures that this could be no more, as they had to leave Earth and it’s peoples to their fate. The whole was pointless, but he had decided to look the City of London in the eye because it sounded like a challenge. To look a city in the eye must be an interesting feat and it was said that the London Eye was quite impressive.

“Could you direct me to the eye of London?” Loki asked a neatly dressed policeman. “The What!?” “The city's eye, the London Eye. I wish to meet it’s gaze” The man had given him a quizzical look, maybe one could only met the eye by invitation, as a Prince could he not appeal to their Queen. “Down by the river" had been his only direction but his guide gave a further “follow the smell" before going on his way. Loki could smell only one source of water so he made his way towards it. The destitute were everywhere but he understood that the city looked after them, maybe it had a kindly eye, he thought grinning to himself until further enquires led him to an enormous wheel strung with carriages.

This was the great City of London's eye!

Loki barked a laugh of disappointment, it was a perfect metaphor for the whole damn planet, all just spinning in place pointlessly! “It won’t blink you know" Loki started and turned to the voice. One of the destitutes had approached him, a striking face but Loki could smell the poison he’d put in his blood. Curiously Loki held his peace hoping that maybe his sudden companion would speak again.

“You asked after the eye like you were about to have a staring contest and were so clearly disappointed to see it… you’re not from around here, no. You smell wrong, like winter but it's the middle of June and you move strangely too, like you ride a lot of horses but you don’t carry the callouses of caring for them, gloves would mask the marks of riding.” Loki watched the interesting mind race behind those odd eyes. “Sherlock Holmes" Who held his hand out for a polite shake in the manner of someone meeting a new animal, cautious of bites.

“Loki Odinson" He responded in kind and the heat of Midguard blood startled him almost as much as the words that followed “Norse mythology, god of mischief, shape shifter and Mother to a few supposed monsters… this isn’t your real skin is it? It feels wrong too” Loki's eyes filled up blood red right through the sclera as he allowed his Joten face to push through his human skin. Sherlock look intrigued and oddly relieved. Like he has been waiting for his mind to leave him all along.

Loki smiled as questing fingers lightly traced the patterns in his Joten skin, he couldn’t break his glamour for long but to enthral one mortal was really no risk. “This is my true skin Sherlock Holmes, Fenris and Sleipnir are no monsters but if you treat something as monstrous for long enough what’s the difference.” He was growing melancholy and that was not the purpose of this journey. He would entertain his new found friend instead, so he grabbed the hand that lingered on his skin, he had some time while the poison was working during which Sherlock Holmes would dismiss it all as fantasy and hallucination.

The revelation of his true nature had sparked an idea in the mad man's head to they found themselves outside of a bland looking building. “So this establishment is where your brother spends his leisure time, but refuses you entry…” Loki read a small brass plate that displayed Diogenes Club and the rather impolite phrase of ABSOLUTE SILENCE that was engraved beneath it. “You say he has cut you off because of the poison, the drugs, and you would like me to play tricks on him for your amusement…” Loki studied the face in front of him it was sickly and underweight but with arresting eyes and a fine frame to the body. He could work with this. “Just don’t let him touch you" Loki warned as he wove the spell, his magic was still young and could be unstable. “Won't be a problem” Sherlock had managed before the rush of the magic stole his breath.

The door swung open and two men strolled in; hair just slightly longer than proper matched well with impeccably tailored suits. Sherlock took a slight lead to the tea room where the so called powerful but most just plain boring sipped and chewed in their desperate collective solitude. No Mycroft, he shook his head at Loki and turned them towards his brother’s office, pausing beside the doorway to the antechamber he tried to figure out his next move. The fussy old secretary would interfere and he was at a loss until Loki moved him to face himself in a brushed steel light fitting… He barely held back a gasp as his illusion self vanished but not just his illusion, he and Loki were simply gone.

Loki grinned as he guided his shocked accomplice towards the entrance, entering was easy enough and he swiftly moved them into the office proper as the brother's assistant had left the door open to drop off some documents. A pallid man sat at a desk frowning at words and scratching his own mark irritability on each page. A tray beside him held a plate of sweet confections and some hot beverage gone cold, cancelling all sound around them Loki turned to Sherlock. “Okay, what next?”

Sherlock's smile split his face and he hoped he would remember this after the high. “The biscuits, Mummy, our mother sends them by the batch. He always eats too many, has since we were kids" He watched incredulously as Loki waved a hand and the biscuit in his brother’s fingers snapped in two. Startled his brother tried to pick up one piece but it broke again and so did the next one. Sherlock could see the sweat form on his brother’s temple and waited for his next move. A crack, deafening in the habitual silence, heralded spilled tea and fallen papers as his brother’s fussy desk split in two under his palms. Mycroft was on his feet now staring at his secretary who had glanced into the room and continued without a word. The phone was next and the plastic shattered into his palm, his trousers were the final casualty. He’d tried to dust the plastic’s shards off his hands and then fled in his ragged clothes to the next room.

Sherlock followed crying magically silenced tears of mirth as his brother pointed and waved soundlessly to his beleaguered secretary, climbing to her feet she glanced into the office again. All was as it should be. “Are you okay sir, you look a bit peaky" She’d queried quietly and Mycroft had nearly fainted dead away as he had turned and seen his office in perfect order.

Sherlock guided Loki back the tea room and took a few breaths to collect himself, he nodded to his companion to drop the camouflage and led them out to the streets in the requisite silence before collapsing on a park bench to chortle out his thanks.

Loki nodded as his almost friend thanked him, he could smell the poison was leaving Sherlock’s blood and knew he would need to depart soon. “It was my pleasure, the pointless rule of silence, it that your brother’s doing" “No it’s a general rule, avoids political discussions which inevitably always get loud, good rule though” Sherlock was sobering fast so Loki lead them to a small well tended park and settled them on a bench. “Enough poison Sherlock, no more drugs" He watched as Sherlock took in his words but cast a sleep charm upon him before there could be an argument.

If Midgard held One such as Sherlock Holmes maybe it wasn’t so pointless and he was smiling as he went home.

… Ragnarok and one mad titan later. ...

Loki lay on a couch and watched the Midgard sun rise over the green land they had called Asgard because where else would they live. Sigyn would be awake soon and Loki would forever be grateful that she was among the survivors who had trickled in after the attack, Heimdal could see them, see what remained of the Asgardians after that harrowing battle and they had gathered everyone to their new home.

Sigyn had been away in Vanahiem with a small group when Hela had attacked and there had been a few groups in other Realms but Thor had insisted everyone be present in their new home as the people of Asgard rebuilt.

Loki's face clouded over as he remembered how he had gained a wife, she had been delivered by an emissary of Jotenheim, and he had watched his brother’s blood boil as Thor had very slowly realised that the emissary was not actually asking for aid for the clearly ill woman in his charge. Thor had stood to say something, no doubt very kingly and self-righteous, so Loki stepped between his brother and the trouble maker to graciously accept the gift of a spouse from the new king of the Joten, he had been the one to destroy half of their city many years ago and had aided greatly in the repair as recompense.

The woman raised wary eyes as Loki guided her to the healers and then promptly guided her to his chambers after they had dismissed her suffering as simple exhaustion. He was quietly furious as she sank into the couch, he was no healer but he knew who might help, many years ago he had been having fun on Midgard, in London, it wasn’t far. He had watched the mortal many times after that first meeting, he had displayed a brilliant mind but far too many scruples, Sherlock! ... his companion had been a healer, between them they would aid his wife. So he gathered up his precious cargo and stepped though space, South and West over the waters.

John was pecking his way through a blog post as Sherlock prepared dinner. “Sherlock" a voice called from their lounge, holding up a hand for Sherlock to stay where he was John peered into the other room. Loki stood in the lounge holding a limp form to his chest. “John!” John dashed forward as Loki lay the woman carefully on the couch. She wasn’t human, half-mast eyelids showed blood red eyes and the distinctive Joten markings pushed through pale human skin.

Sherlock knew that voice but stayed in the kitchen as John had indicated, Loki had sounded relieved to see the doctor so clearly there was a medical problem, he turned off the gas and collected John’s kit as well as a blanket upstairs. He put the kit at John’s side and stepped around Loki to drape the blanket at the woman’s feet, John would pull it up when he was done so Sherlock clasped a hand to Loki's shoulder in support and quietly headed to the kitchen, two more for dinner then. He let John get on with clearly urgent work.

She had been a cast off like himself, an insult intended to remind Loki of what he was but she was also a true person in Loki's eyes and he had made sure she knew that.

He chuckled to himself because she had learned; she had healed and become his wife but she also grew fiercely independent and though they were wed they saw no need to be in constant company. Loki was pleased with her boldness and proud that she had recovered from her ordeal so excellently.

He could hear her waking, these new chambers were small but suited them with a simplicity that Asgard had never really possessed. It had been a few months since everyone had been called to this new home and the quiet domesticity had been a balm he did not know he’d needed but his heart froze as a loud thump came from the bedchamber.

“Sigyn, my love. Are you well?” He called as he rose then raced through the small house, because he knew the answer. He knew there would no joke to share, of two left feet, or playful mocking of Midgardian shag carpets. His wonderful wife lay pale on the floor as she tried to rouse her body from the collapse.

Loki lifted his wife with quiet words to sooth her distress, there were human healers, a hospital a short way away. He could maintain her illusion for her and hoped they would be able to help as he turned on his heel and stepped through space into a strange room. “My wife, my wife!” He approached a woman standing nearby, her clothes and name tag identified her as a doctor, like Sherlock’s John! “Please aid my wife, she collapsed a few minutes ago, it’s never happened before!”

He lay his very soul on a steel treatment bed and also wept with relief as the room burst into action. They fussed and took readings from all kinds of things that they attached to her arms, fingers, and head. She spoke to them quietly and called to him for answers when she could no longer talk then when once again he was told exhaustion and he nearly screamed, but these were uninformed human doctors. “I’m going to bring her regular doctor, he can consult for you" He gritted out before he threw himself through the doorway of the room, stepping through space once again into 221B Baker street.

“John!” He called this time and Sherlock answered “He’s occupied at the moment Loki, he won’t be long" “Unoccupy him then, my wife has collapsed and these simple Midgard healers know nothing!” Loki was pacing the dingy room when John appeared. “Your wife collapsed, what were her symptoms before it happened” but the end of the sentence was muffled as Loki grabbed John’s shorter frame firmly around the shoulders and stepped through space back to the hospital door he had left from.

“No! Loki, no, I’m not looking at a thing" John adamantly refused as he had been out and out kidnapped from London without even his phone for Sherlock to trace. He could see Sigyn, Loki's wife where she lay resting on a gurney in a pile of blankets. “Just review the tests John and I will return you personally!” “No Loki we discussed this, my phone is at home. Sherlock will be going spare. Trust Loki, there needs to be trust.” Loki almost roared with anger but a quiet coughing sound from the bed drew his gaze, she was laughing weakly at him and shooeing him off with a small gesture.

The regular staff had long since cleared out as the Asgardians had quickly made arrangements with the nearby hospitals, they would be needed until healing rooms could be set up and currency could do anything on Midgard. He returned her small smile and gave John a glare for good measure before he step through space and almost straight into Sherlock, who stood in the lounge in his coat and scarf obviously waiting. Loki had been about to comment on blinding, pig headed loyalty but Sherlock simply flashed a ring shining on his left hand. “I know, he’s lovely isn’t he" Growling at the nonchalant comment Loki quickly confirmed his consent and wrapped an arm around Sherlock's waist before he thrust them both through space to John’s side.

John was smiling by the time they returned and Sigyn seemed more awake too but there were tears in her eyes and he rushed to her side. “What did you do to her!" “I did nothing, what did you do to her” John responded as he turned to lean against Sherlock and whisper in his ear.

John watched the bed from Sherlock's arms. Sigyn held Loki and copied John’s gesture of quiet words in the only ear she would need. He watched as Loki froze and then shook, John heard sobs which turned to laughter as Loki scooped Sigyn off the bed and stepped magically though the entire wall, like it was the illusion, before heading towards the reception area. He heard more laughter and walked beside Sherlock as they followed it at a human pace.

Loki smiled with tears on his face as he thanked the staff, he rejected the offer of a wheel chair, refusing to put his wife down so that she might simply walk. “Regular exercise is important in early pregnancy Loki" John had called to him but this was irrelevant for the moment. “Maybe a taxi rather" Sherlock had suggested which made sense as stepping through space had taken him practice and took effort so there was no way to know its effect on a baby. “Loki, get them home first Love" His beautiful, glowing, miraculous wife had chided gently as he had turned for the door. “We'll wait" Two smiling men had said in almost perfect unison and they did wait, quite patiently until Loki strode out from a different doorway and embraced them both.

Arms lock around chests and shoulders as the three men embraced tightly over the good news. Loki dropped his head to Sherlock’s shoulder and said a quiet thanks in John’s ear. When they left the hug they were back in Baker street. “We will visit as much as we are able. John I hope you’ll remain in attendance of Sigyn's condition" Loki turned to John who looked a bit crescent fallen. “I’m not an obstetrician, a birthing doctor.” “But she would prefer you by her side, even if you’re only consulting. I believe you’re familiar with the practice of consultation” He flicked his gaze to Sherlock who was glowing, and Loki knew that look very well. He had worn it just that morning, pride in his partner, and a fathomless depth of love

@fanishjuli @mofftissfan @sarahthecoat @loveismyrevolution @riorothbates @underestimatemethatwillbefun @anotherwellkeptsecret @benaddictedandsherlocked @johnlockismyreligion @almosttomorocco @superwholocklmt @strangeps3lyricsmuffin @chinike @sillystring111 @ben-locked @jobooksncoffee @notjustamumj @johnlockunicorn @chained-to-the-mirror @thinkanddoodle-batch @melmey-fanfics @the-persian-slipper @melsesowieso @morgendaemmerung89 @shiplocks-of-love @pri1982 @kitten-kin @francj96 @sabrina-phynn @colourfulwatson @thejohnlockoutlet @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @shoshililly @mrb488 @yaycoffee @pippn-frodo @barbsiebabe @skullinitium @boisinberryjamarama @anchored-in-high-tide

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maggiec70 · 3 years

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The Black Widow

I nearly snorted my morning coffee seeing the romanticized painting of The Lovely Louise and Her Perfect Children; it was amazingly motivational so early on a Sunday morning. So here is an alternate point of view about all this loveliness. And those of you who know me know I rarely say anything I can’t attach a footnote to.

Let’s not be fooled by a pretty face, folks, or tales of marital bliss. The trope of the lovely Louise and her gentle influence on her rowdy husband has been perpetuated with few facts to support it, and even fewer to support the view of true love.

It is true that Louise probably blamed Napoleon for her husband’s death, but not because that made her a widow grieving the loss of a beloved husband but because it meant an end to the flow of financial rewards, titles and awards, and the loss of her status at an Imperial Court she actually disliked and had refused to attend when Jean-Boy was alive.

Less than two months after Jean-Boy’s death, Louise was petitioning Napoleon to make her “Princess of Sievrès” [or the more authentic Polish “Siewierz”], a request he denied because her husband had never bothered to apply for the letters patent. Before the state funeral in July 1810, Louise had sold every property and every possession her husband had acquired and put her father and brother in charge of managing the money for her and her children.

As Marie-Louise’s dame d’honneur, Louise tried—and succeeded—in distancing the other ladies of the empress’s household and cementing her control. The only woman not falling for Louise’s tactics was Madame de Montesquiou, who actively disliked her. Her memoirs are quite illuminating on the subject. When Napoleon abdicated, Louise used her considerable influence to keep the empress from even thinking about joining him in exile. Instead, she followed the lead of Francis II and helped shove Marie-Louise into the dubious arms of Count Adam von Niepperg.

Immediately after Napoleon’s abdication, Louise threw her plumed bonnet into the Bourbon ring, welcoming the Restoration. When the Allied armies entered Paris, she offered Arthur Wellesley the use of her house as his headquarters; he refused the offer with some gallantry, but the offer certainly shows that Louise was clearly on the other side of her dead husband’s loyalties.

Throughout the marriage Louise insisted that whenever Jean-Boy was home on leave from one campaign or another that he spend time with her family, a collection of small-minded upwardly-mobile bourgeois bureaucrats, plus the slightly sinister Doctor Corvisart, a close friend of her father’s. She refused to visit Jean-Boy’s family in Lectoure, claiming it was too far to travel, the “accommodations” were insufficient, and so on and so forth. She made what she clearly intended to be a “state visit” in 1818 to Lectoure simply to turn over the former episcopal palace Jean-Boy had bought in 1799 to the town, brushed the dust—and any association with the town—from her gloves and returned to Paris. She never allowed her children to return, either, although her eldest son visited just once as an adult.

The worst blot on this woman’s character arose from the challenge by Jean-Boy’s allegedly illegitimate son, Jean-Claude, in 1816 for the title and all that went with it. Suffice it to say that the tale unfurled much the same as the last chapter in the feud between Henry II and Archbishop Thomas Becket. And that’s a subject for another blog.

I once thought to write a sort of companion work to “The Emperor’s Friend” and call it “The Black Widow.” If I weren’t so damn old I still might. The documents are all sorted, labeled, filed, and boxed, ready to go.

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secretlynestaarcheron · 4 years

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Chapter Seventeen + Eighteen

Okay, this is a nice filler chapter with Domestic Nessian because it will make me happy to write :)

The Selection AU

Tagged: @justgiu12 @blxckbeak @justabunchoffandomtrash-blog @swagbookmaster @my-fan-side @heyitsrhysand @lovelynesta @acourtofmarauders @illyrianwitchling13 @sjm-things @superspiritfestival

lmk if you want to be tagged

Chapter Seventeen:

Nesta wiped the sweat off her brow as Feyre and her finished carrying one of the bed frames up the stairs. Feyre leaned over her hands on her knees as she caught her breath. “I haven’t done this much labor since the last move,” Feyre huffs.

“So, never?” Nesta replies as she shakes her head and grabs the bed frame again. “Okay, let’s take this to your room.”

Feyre sighs in content, “My own room, we’re really climbing up in the world, Nes,” she chuckles as she grabs the bed frame and they begin moving again. “Soon we’re going to have to move ourselves into a palace, now that is going to be a sight. Can you imagine me tracking my muddy boots through the palace?”

Nesta rolls her eyes as they drop the bed frame in her spacious room. The house was smaller than the one they had when they were fours but it was almost too big for them now. Nesta didn’t know how they would fill all of the rooms. She had gotten so used to sleeping next to her sisters, she felt like it would be cold and lonely by herself.

“Where do you want this?” Cassian calls pulling her from her thoughts as he walks past the door with Mor. It was their father’s desk, Nesta remembered the late nights she would find him huddle over books and scraps of papers.

Feyre pops up next to her, “Put that in the room across from Elain’s, I think we’re turning that into a library,” she pipes up, Nesta turns to look at her in surprise. “What? It’s about time you have a place to put all of your books. I am tired of finding them littered all over the place.”

“To the library it goes,” Cassian exclaims, giving Nesta a wink. She rolls her eyes in response, she definitely wasn’t at the point of ignoring him anymore but she wasn’t sure where she stood with him. She didn’t even know where to begin when she thought about him, they could both be killed or imprisoned if she ever voiced the thoughts she had of him.

Mor let out a chuckle from the other room and it crashed the little bubble Nesta had placed him in, it was just a reminder that he wasn’t Nestas. Throughout her time here Nesta wanted to hate her for how she joked with feyre, chatted with Elain, and made Cassian laugh so loud it filled the house. Nesta hated how tolerable she was, how Cassian deserved someone that would actually admit they had feelings, who could admit out loud how they felt.

“You okay?” Feyre asks, peering over her shoulder at Nesta as she pushes the bed frame against the wall, right by the window that looks over the forest that borders their house.

Nesta gave her sister a tight smile, she couldn’t let anyone know these thoughts, these were her own to bear. She couldn’t hurt anyone else, not now that everything was finally coming together. “Just thinking about how we will have to head into town to get you some new art supplies, this window gives beautiful light to paint.”

Feyre beams, making Nesta return the smile as her sister talks about everything her sister wants to paint from a portrait of them to the castle gardens to their little shack in caste seven. Despite the pain and misery they felt they would always have each other, they were survivors.

The girls work hard to finish up the bedrooms before nightfall, Nesta moving through the rooms to make sure everything is in the best spot, she needed them to be happy before she could even begin to think about her room. It would be weird to sleep so far apart, they had always slept in the same bed since moving to caste seven.

She peeks through the rooms as she moves down the hall, everyone must have made their way downstairs. She stops at the end of the hallway, where the master bedroom sat, she wanted it to be a guest room or a studio but both Feyre and Elain refused. She opens the door, her mouth dropping when she sees the bedroom set up, Feyre and Elain both curled up on the bed, their heads close together.

Nesta smiles at the scene, making her way over towards the bed and sitting down on the edge. Elain eyes blink open and she smiles at Nesta. “It doesn’t feel real,” she mumbles half asleep. Feyre stirs but doesn’t wake. “Not since you went away, I feel like I am going to wake up and it will all be gone.”

Nesta lays down next to her sister, grabbing her hand and squeezing it. “I know,” Nesta replies, a ghost of a smile on her lips, her world was finally looking up. She looks at her sister's faces in the moonlight peaking through the curtains. They hadn’t been in the home for long but she could see the peace on their features. She realized that she didn’t need to cause any agony by saying anything, all she needed was them.

She listens to them breath while staring up at the ceiling before letting go of Elain’s hand and moving downstairs. The kitchen light is one and she hears someone moving around, peaking in she sees Cassian by himself with a bunch of pans surrounding him.

She leans against the doorway, watching him intently, as he moves around the kitchen without seeing her. He moves to grab something off the stove, swearing under his breath as he grabs the hot plate with his bare hand. “Need any help?” she asks, pushing herself away from the doorway and steps through.

He turns in surprise laughing when he sees her looking at the mess surrounding him. “I was trying to make you guys a welcome chocolate cake, I remember Feyre mentioning to Rhys that it was her favorite,” he replies, running a hand through his hair leaving a trail of brown flour through his hair.

She chuckles lifting a hand to dust it out of his hair before she realizes what she's doing, she smiles sheepishly dropping her hand and turning towards the counter. “Are you following a recipe?” she asks, looking around for a piece of paper.

He takes a minute to answer and she wonders if he was stunned by her actions as well. “Uh, well-, here’s the thing,” he replies, looking around at the mess. “My adopted mom used to make this amazing double chocolate cake growing up, I used to watch her. I thought I could remember.”

She moves to the pantry where a few of her mother’s recipes were placed in a box on the shelf, she moves through them looking for the card she wanted. “Here,” she says, handing it to him. “Probably not as good as a double chocolate cake, but it’ll do the job.”

He smiles in thanks, reading over the card before beginning to gather the ingredients from where they littered all over the place. She can’t help but think about his parents as she gathers some dishes to clean, he had never mentioned them to her, which wasn’t completely odd. They didn’t know each other that well, but she did find it curious how he was adopted. That was rare in the caste systems, most kids were placed as eights and had to fend for themselves.

She was curious, she wanted to ask more but she bit her lip, finishing up the dishes and turning to see him putting the cake batter into the oven. “Round two was a success?” she asks.

He laughs, “It was more like round five, but I’ll let you decide once it's cooked if it was a success.” he replies, looking around the now clean kitchen. “Are you heading to bed?” She doesn’t even respond before he’s moving across the kitchen and rummaging through his bag.

She leans against the counter, watching him look through his bag before pulling out two packages. He turns to her looking down before extending the packages towards her. She takes them from his outstretched hand, eyeing him slightly before ripping the parchment on the first one.

“Their house warming gifts,” he announces as she pulls off the paper and flips it over to see a picture of her at the palace. She was cuddled up in the back corner but all the other girls were out of focus, it was just her in the back looking out at the moonlight with a book on her lap.

“Did you take this?” she asks, peering up at him, his embarrassment answering her question. “I didn’t know you enjoyed photography, you’re really good.” She rubs the glass, that was the second night at the palace, before they even were introduced to the prince. This was before she even had a conversation with Cassian.

“Rhysand asked me to sneak in and see how you all act, a professional photo that you all submitted was one thing but he wanted to see some candid shots,” Cassian replies before looking up at her and running a hand through his hair. “You were the only one not all over me to know anything about the prince.”

She chuckles, smiling down at the photo before looking back up at him. “Is that why I got such a warm welcome from you when we first ran into each other?” she asks.

“I think you actually physically ran into me on our first encounter,” Cassian retorts back to his own normal chipper. “I’ve been taking some of your family throughout the week. I can get them printed if you’d like.”

“I would like,” she replies realizing how oblivious she had been, she hadn’t even seen him holding a camera this whole time let alone snapping photos of her and her sisters. He nods his head towards the other gift and she begins to open it.

It was an old book, the binding was falling apart and the ink was fading, she couldn’t even read the title. “It’s a copy of the original princesses diary,” Cassian says as she looks up at him curiously. “She was the one who instilled the first schools, built and managed the palace library, and traveled the world collecting the books that fill it.”

“Really, I didn’t know any of that,” she replies, flipping through the pages as if she could just absorb the memories.

“History books and magazines mostly pride her on her fashion sense but I thought you’d enjoy her story,” Cassian says, his voice soft. She had never seen him this soft before, so open and relaxed, it was always stern and forced while at the palace.

“Thank you,” she says, looking down at the gifts before looking at him again. “For the gifts and for staying and helping.”

He was right in front of her, the kitchen only lit by a few candles, the smell of cake cooking in the oven. She felt like she was a kid again, back with her mom reading in the kitchen while her mother baked goods for the lower castes. She could see the look on his face too, he was safe, she couldn’t help but feel glad that him being with her made him feel this way.

“Nes?”

She turns abruptly away from Cassian, she is lost in her thoughts again, imaging something between them that did not exist. She turned to see Feyre in the entryway, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “What’s that smell?”

Nesta laughs, “Of course the smell of cake would wake you,”she retorts as the timer goes off and Cassian moves to take it out. Nesta couldn’t help but want to stay like this forever. She was truly and utterly happy.

~*~

“You ready?” Cassian asks, and Nesta notices a new air to his voice, there was something different between since last night when he gave her the gifts and everyone woke up to enjoy the cake. They had sat in the living room way past dawn. Mor fell asleep in the rocking chair and Feyre, who practically scarfed down half the cake, complained of a stomach ache until Elain helped her to bed.

Nesta and Cassian had sat side by side on the small sofa, their shoulders brushing whenever they flipped a page of their respected books, hers the diary and his one of her father’s old business textbooks. Their knees would brush whenever he switched which legs were crossed and she would have to reread the page again wondering if he had felt it too.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she replies as Cassian takes the bag from her and moves to put it into the car. It didn’t mean much as she turns back to see her sister’s on the porch, she moved to them quickly to embrace them, she wasn’t ready to leave them. “I am going to miss you both.”

Feyre chuckles, as she pulls away from the hug first, straightening her shirt. “Please, once you’re back in the palace library or eating your bodyweight in pastries you’ll forget all about us,” Feyre retorts.

“And the prince wrote to Feyre, he doesn’t know when we can visit but he wants all the families to come after the ball. We will see you soon,” Elain adds. Nesta raises an eyebrow and turns to Feyre who’s cheeks had turned a light pink, she wouldn’t meet her sister's gaze. Better her than me, Nesta couldn’t help but think.

“You could see me sooner if I didn’t go back,” Nesta says, if they agreed she would, she’d turn around and send them off without her. Send an apology letter to the prince and spend the rest of her life here with them.

Feyre shakes her head, “Not possible. I am still rooting for you to win,” Feyre exclaims. “I would look great in a tiara.”

“Who said anything about you wearing a crown?” Nesta asks, crossing her arms and peering down at her sister. She meant to tell them when she was home that there wasn’t a possibility of her winning but with moving she didn’t find a moment alone with them to share, she doubted the prince would allow her to anyways. Feyre might be wearing a crown soon if her red cheeks had anything to do with what was in the letter.

“Obviously being the sister of the Queen would make me a princess,” Feyre replies with an innocent shrug. Elain rolls her eyes at her sister, Feyre had a mind of her own and nothing they say would go against it.

“Speaking of not knowing anything about monarchies-,” Nesta begins earning a grunt from Feyre. “I have a tutor coming once a week, to help boost your studies now that we are three.”

Feyre groans and yells after her as Nesta moves down to the car. “I hope you know I am eighteen now! Do I really need a tutor?”

Cassian props the door open for her and she moves down the sidewalk. “I like them,” he says as he follows her into the car. She smiles out the window where they were waving wildly. “I like them too,” she murmurs.

~*~

“What do you want, Nesta?” Cassian asks, his voice just below a whisper as he turns to face her, she knew he was only that close because Mor was asleep in the seat across from them but she couldn’t help but take every inch of him in. She didn’t know when she would see him with such detail once they stepped foot back into the palace.

She can’t help but roll her eyes when she thinks of the question: What did she want? She wanted a lot of things. She wanted to take a hot bath with lots of bubbles after the trequious journey back to the palace, she wanted the next diary, she wanted a hot meal, and of course, she wanted him. Unfortunately, she couldn't have that last one.

“That’s a very loaded question,” she replies, she wanted to be able to reach out and push the strain of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes that she wanted to stare into for the rest of her life. “I want to house the homeless, I want to end hunger-,”

He chuckles, but to stay quiet it's breathy and she had never heard anything like it before. She wanted to bottle it up and save it for a rainy day when she was back home. Her sisters married and she was alone with her books so she could remember that he was real. “Don’t patronize me, sweetheart,” he replies. She wanted him to call her that, for the rest of their long lives. “What fuels Nesta Archeron, what’s her deepest desire.”

“Do I get to know yours, sweetheart?” she asks, her eyes piercing straight into his dark ones, which had an emotion she couldn’t pinpoint. He gives her a small smile and then nods. “Okay, what I want to do, what I truly want to do-,”

“Stop stalling, darling,” he says. “This plane is going to land any minute.”

She bites her lip before she continues, “I want to teach, I want to take my books to the lower castes and I want to give them a chance.” She doesn’t know why she feels embarrassed to tell him, she hadn’t even said it aloud to anymore before, she didn’t have the means, the books, or the funds before.

He chuckles and she narrows her eyes. “I am not laughing at you, I promise,” he replies, shaking his head an expression of fondness embracing his features as his eyes meet hers again. “You surprise me, Nes. I am glad I met you.”

He’s close to her now, but she knows he’s not going to kiss her this time, but she wants him too.

A sound chimes and the pilot announces that they would be landing soon, Cassian pulls away reaching across the aisle to nudge Mor awake. “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he says, leaning back in his seat as she smacks his hand away. He turns to Nesta with a mischievous grin, “I am not sure if you know but Mor, Rhy, and I all grew up in the castle together. Rhys and I used to pull the worse pranks on her to wake her up.”

Mor shakes her head from across the aisle, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and patting down her hair, she still looks effortlessly beautiful despite being asleep in an upright chair. “Traumatizing, I have slept the same, always on edge,” she retorts. They continue to joke, Nesta quickly feeling out of place as the plane lands and the security guard come on to help the exit through the crowds.

She’s quiet as they maneuver through the crowd, saying hello and taking pictures with a few girls, the crowd thickens and she feels a firm hand placed on her back. She turns to see Cassian grinning at her, “Wouldn’t wanna lose you in this crowd,” he says over the cheering. She nods turning back towards their destination.

The car was quiet, all three of them squished in the back, she wondered if the King had sent such a small car because he didn’t want her to come back. Mor sat in the middle, telling tales of them as children, but Nesta hardly listened. When they were alone she was sure that Cassian was hers but in reality neither of them were available from the outside point of view, especially her.

“You’ve been quiet, you feeling alright?” Mor asks as they step out of the car and Cassian moves to help the guards unload the bags.

Nesta smiles in thanks, “Of course, just tired,” she replies, “You share a lot about your childhood, did you not stay local for your later years? Did you travel?”

Mor lets out a breath, “Let's just say the King and my father didn’t approve of who I chose to spend my nights with,” she says with a wink. “They sent me to a school across the sea.” Nesta eyes widened, of course she knew, she had wondered about Elain who barely acknowledged any boy who came her way but she had never heard of someone being sent away.

Mor looks back and sees Nesta’s expression. “I hope I didn’t offend you,” Mor replies but doesn’t seem like she would have actually cared if she did.

“Of course not, I am shocked by how they responded not by you,” Nesta replies with an ease. Mor sends her a smile and Nesta is glad, the last thing she wanted for Mor to not feel comfortable around her. Nesta couldn’t help but celebrate selfishly, so Cassian wasn’t with her.

“You two standing there all day? We have a feast to attend!” Cassian exclaims from where he was hauling a few bags and trunks up the stairs. Mor laughs after him before turning towards Nesta. “Since I was honest with you, I hope you can be honest with me,” she begins and Nesta nods a wave of anxiety pulsing through her. “I’ve known Cassian for years, there’s only been one girl in his life and he was hurt by the end. I saw you two in your kitchen before we all came down and I heard bits and pieces of your conversation on the way here.”

Nesta’s face burned, she didn’t have anything to be embarrassed about, she hadn’t said anything that would get either of them in trouble. “I am not going to say anything, Cassian is a brother to me, I want him to be happy. He seems happy with you but you’re apart of-,”

“The Selection, I know,” Nesta finishes and turns away from Mor. That explains the embarrassment, she didn’t want Mor to think that she was leading him on, but could she trust her enough to tell her what was really happening. “I wouldn’t lead him on if I knew there was no way I could be with him.”

Mor purses her lips but she seems happy enough with Nesta’s answer. “Okay, that settles that then,”

she replies putting an arm through Nesta and leading them towards the stairs. “I think we’re going to be great friends.”

Nesta rolls her eyes and wonders how she ever thought she could hate this girl over a guy.

She moves down the hall towards her room, wanting to fall into the soft bed and never wake up. “Hey!” she turns to see Cassian jogging down the hall towards her. “Where are you headed? The feast is that way.” He points behind him.

“But my soft bed and warm bath is that way,” replies pointing towards her door.

He catches up to her and they fall into a nice silence. “So,” she pipes up as they step in front of her door. She thinks about that night he walked her back from the library and awkwardl it had been, that was only a week prior, time was moving so quick.

“So?” he questions stepping in front of her like he did that night.

She crosses her arms, “You never told me your deepest darkness fuel-worthy desire,” she retorts. “I told you mine, so you get to tell me yours.”

He smiles down at her mischievously, “I guess it’s only fair,” he returns, glancing up and down the hallway to make sure no one was nearby. “You can’t laugh and you can’t tell another soul.”

“Laugh? Like you did to mine?” she retorts with an eye roll but nods nevertheless. “I promise.”

He steps forward, his face dropping low so his mouth is right by her ear, she wanted to pull away but she couldn’t. “My fuel worthy desire-,” he says, pausing, making her heartbeat with anticipation. She was ready to shove him if he said anything stupid but the word that falls from his lips stuns her. “You.”

Her breath catches, as he pulls away enough to look her in the eyes, she blinks up at him. “Did I scare you?” he asks, worry laced through his tone. He moves to pull farther away but her hand reaches up to catch his coat. She shakes her head, swallowing the lump in her throat, as she pulls him closer towards her. He doesn’t take long to meet her halfway, neither of them caring in that moment who sees them.

“You just keep surprising me, Nes,” he murmurs, pulling away slightly, pressing his forehead into hers.

“Good surprises I hope,” she replies, fighting the urge to pull away, she had never been this vulnerable in front of anyone before. He chuckles, shaking his head, as he reassures, “The best.”

Chapter Eighteen:

Cassian sprung awake to the sound of pounding on his door, he groaned, pulling away the covers and slipping on a shirt as he moved towards the door. It was probably Amren, welcoming him home with a pile of work. He opens the door reading to start the morning off with a quick wit comment but it falls short from his lips when he sees the King standing there.

The King takes in Cassian’s appearance practically pulling him apart with his eyes. “You weren’t at the feast last night,” the King replies, stepping through the door and looking around Cassian’s room, before turning to face him once more. “You missed the announcement of guests staying with us before the ball, I would think the Captain of the Guard would want that information.”

“I was catching up on the work I missed while away, my apologies,” Cassian begins, looking around to make sure there was nothing incriminating, even if there wasn’t the King would find some way to scold him about anything. “My second in command, Amren, was there. I trust her to have the list ready for me to go over.”

The King hums but doesn’t move. He was here for another purpose. Cassian wishes he would just outright say it without making Cassian guess. “I can go speak to her first if you would like,” Cassian retorts, hoping that would satisfy the King enough that he would leave.

“Are you sure there isn’t another stop you would like to make?” The King asks his eyes narrowing to watch Cassian’s expression which lucky for Cassian was simply pure confusion. He racked his brain for anything that happened before he left, he hadn’t made the list yet, perhaps the King was waiting for the names.

“I am not sure-,” but before Cassian can finish the sentence the King extends a magazine towards him. He grabs it looking at the cover. It was when they were arriving home, Cassian stood behind Nesta while Mor was taking a picture with a young girl. Cassian’s eyes narrow. “What am I supposed to take from this?”

The King lets out a breath of frustration, pointing to where Cassian’s hand was placed firmly on Nesta’s lower back. That’s when the headline caught his eye, “The Selection Affair?”

Cassian can’t help but worry, had anyone seen them last night? He had been foolish to kiss her out in the open where anyone could report back to the King. “There was poor security at the airport, I didn’t want to lose her,” Cassian replies with a shrug that he hopes didn’t come across too relaxed. “Rhysand is one of my best friends, even you can see that, I wouldn’t ruin this experience for him. If you don’t believe me, even you know I value living more than I do a girl.”

The King chuckles and it irks Cassian. “I don’t believe you, but I have no proof not too. Just know, if you do find yourself in a relationship with one of the selected, you won’t be dying,” The King replies and as he steps out the door, he turns back towards Cassian and with a crooked smile says, “You’re a prisoner to me, Cassian, and I found that killing your girlfriends fuels you. Don’t test me.”

Without another word the King strolled down the hall as if not just dropping a bomb onto Cassian. He knew the coincidence for beginning a relationship with a selected member, but when he was near her, all he could think about was her. He always thought subconsciously that Rhysand would protect him but not even Rhysand could help him when he didn’t even know the extent the King had on Cassian’s life.

He shut the door, turning back towards the dark room, he wouldn’t be able to go near her ever again. He slammed his fist against the wall next to him, blood dripping down his knuckles as he did it again. He couldn’t even tell her why he had to stop.

It would be easy enough, he told himself as he made his way to his office where he would have to do the work he left behind. He would be so busy with the ball that he would make every excuse in the book not to be near the selected. He let his mind trail to after the ball when the girls who start dropping in numbers to the point where he would have to talk to her or if she was picked, if she became Queen he-

He stopped his escalating thoughts, he knew she wasn’t the type of girl that would play them both. She wouldn’t have kissed him if she still wanted Rhysand. He couldn’t let himself think of her like that even if it would pull him away from the thoughts of her. How she felt in his arms, how she tasted, how-

“Welcome back, did you have a nice vacation?” He turns to see Amren moving down the hallway with a stack of folders. “New recruits, you still know how to do your job, right? Didn’t lose your touch on your week and a half vacation?”

He rolls his eyes as she drops the stack in his hands. “It was a blast, I even got a tan line from sunning myself,” he retorts, unlocking his office and shoving the door open.

“I hope you are nice and recovered, because I did absolutely nothing while you were gone. Have fun with your massive workload,” she taunts.

He chuckles as he drops the files on the desk. “Don’t be jealous, Amren. One day you’ll feel joy again, I believe it,” he responds, his eye catching on a note that was tucked under his door, it was caught under a cabinet.

“I prefer to do my job then run off with a selected,” Amren responds leaning against the door frame and reaching into her pocket to pull out a parchment. “I also have the list of the prestigious guests that will be staying at the palace leading up to the prince’s birthday ball. I have a star next to the ones already here.”

Cassian moves around his desk and grabs the list groaning at the first name. “Did you really think he wouldn’t be here? He’s the prince's cousin,” Amren pipes up knowing exactly what name he was groaning about.

Cassian shakes his head, scanning the rest of the names, before looking back at Amren. “I was hoping that he would at least go home, why does he need to stay at the palace the whole time?” he asks. Amren purses her lips as if hiding something. “What do you know?”

“It’s all gossip, I wouldn’t think too much into it, especially when it comes to Tamlin but apparently some guards saw him with one of the selected while you were gone,” Amren responds with a shrug. “They were seen embracing last night, I am not sure who the girl is, but it’s Tamlin so who knows if there’s any honesty, however-,”

“Tamlin would also do something like this and not care about the repercussions, the King can’t kill his nephew,” Cassian finishes for her. He hated Tamlin for putting Rhysand in such an uncomfortable position, but wasn’t he doing the same last night? Embracing one of the selected? It didn’t matter, he would never be able to talk with Nesta again. “Do we know who the girl was?”

Amren shrugs half-heartedly, “No proof, we know it’s not Nesta, and they were seen in the south wing so that most likely scratches every girl that’s in the north wing,” Amren retorts and before Cassian can even ask her to make him a list of the girls and their rooms she pulls out another piece of parchment. “Honestly, I should have your job.”

“Trust me, Ams,” Cassian says looking over the list, “You do not want me as your second in command but I will see about getting you a raise.”

Amren rolls her eyes, both of them knowing that the King would never think of giving her a raise or even prompting her, he barely wanted her in the spot she was in. “How about fixing the hot water instead, I am tired of taking cold showers,” Amren replies.

“Consider it done,” Cassian says, giving her a smile as she moves down the hall lifting a hand in goodbye. Cassian pulls the door shut, grabbing the envelope, and ripping open the seal. Someone must have slipped it under the door before he left in a hurry to be with Nesta and her family.

Whoever wrote it was in a hurry as he took in the rushed writing, the ink smeared together blurring some of the words. “I know you're looking for the spy, your suspicions are correct, we do have a mole hidden in the selection. I’ll let you figure that one out, Cas. I will let you know that we have something big prepared to celebrate the prince’s birthday. ~T”

Cassian wants to crush the paper in his fist but he needed it as proof for when he ruined Tomas Mandray’s life. Threatening Cassian like this, purposefully taunting him, this was all a game to him. What did a well established man have to do with a rebellion besides being bored?

“Captain,” a small voice says from the doorway, a young maid barely sixteen stood staring up at him with frightened eyes. “The King wanted me to give you a message.”

Cassian slips the piece of paper under a stack of books, not ready to show anyone else the contents especially a young maid scared of the King. “Very well, let’s see it,” Cassian says, trying to soften as best he can not to scare her anymore.

“He wants me to tell you that he wants extra guards during the week, while everyone gets ready for the ball, especially on the selection,” the maid squeaks out barely looking at him.

Cassian’s eyebrows furrow, of course Cassian would set up extra guards so the King had sent her for another reason. “He wants the ladies to be extra protected, particularly, Nesta Archeron,” the maid responds flinching at the name. Cassian wonders what the King had told her about Cassian, why she was so scared. “He has requested you be Nesta’s guard, he sees potential in her and wants his best guard to protect her.”

He swallows the anger, “Very well, if the King comes to you again let him know that I received his message and will implement it by tonight,” he says, falling back into his chair, the girl stayed there staring at the ground.

“He wanted me to make sure you had everything you needed,” the girl responds. “Is there anything I can get you?”

Cassian rolls his eyes at the twisted gesture in this cruel game. He noticed how she looked like Nesta with the dirty blonde hair and light eyes and wondered if the King had chosen her because of those reasons based on her fear and the King’s reputation he had his conclusion. “No, thank you,” Cassian replies seeing the relief flood through her. “Thank you for giving me the message, you are free to go.”

She hurries down the hall without another word.

~*~

The guests that had already arrived as well as the selected girls were at dinner. Nesta had smiled at him as soon as he walked in but he turned away from her, his eyes hard and unfazed as he turned to say something to Rhysand.

He didn’t miss how her shoulders fell.

He stood behind her through dinner, catching the King’s gaze many times, who was more entertained by the scenario that he had put Cassian in than the Prince of Spain's conversation. He didn’t look at her too long, only keeping her in the corner of his eye, enough to make sure she was ok without letting himself get lost in the thoughts of his hand in her hair or fading into her eyes.

Those eyes that the gentleman sitting next to her complimented often.

Cassian’s teeth clench as he heard the drunken words slip from the gentleman’s mouth, his feet urging him to step forward as he saw Nesta move her seat farther away from him and his wavering hands but as soon as he was going to risk it he glanced up at the King once more, seeing his lips curl up in a cruel smile at Nesta and the handsy ambassador.

Fury filled him as he realized that the King was setting him up. He was waiting for any physical proof to send Nesta to her death.

The dinner moved slowly as Cassian fought every muscle in his body as he watched ambassador Handsey talking loudly to Nesta about her appearance, he was glad when Rita came over to chat with Nesta pulling her away from him. He watched the ambassador give up on intruding in their conversation and move on to another group, Cassian doesn’t miss the disappointment on the King’s face.

The crowd begins to disperse as soon as the Queen takes her exit, Cassian wavering as Nesta continues chatting with Rita and laughing. Even the King takes his leave, his eyes burning into Cassian’s before he disappears into the hall. Nesta says her goodbye, before turning and leaving, Cassian follows behind her not wanting Nesta to know that he was assigned to her.

It would be easier on the both of them if they didn’t have to talk. Nesta circles back, moving away from her room and towards the south wing. Cassian brow furrows as he watches Nesta move down the hall, looking over her shoulder to make sure no one is following her. If she was the mole they gave her no training whatsoever.

She stops short, moving into the shadows, but Cassian can see her clearly looking down the hall. He wonders what made her hide but Tamlin and Rita appear down the hall moving towards her door. They’re whispering to one another but it doesn’t look like a lovers quarrel. Rita seems angry and Tamlin, as always, is taking it like a joke.

“I am not giving you anymore information, your going against the plans, this isn’t the Tamlin show. You can’t use us to get back at your cousin or his friends,” Rita snarls before opening the door and slamming it shut behind her.

Tamlin lets out a string of curse words, moving to knock on the door but deciding against it and moving to the hall out of sight. Once the hallway is clear, Nesta moves from her hiding spot, back down the hall towards where Cassian was.

She would see him whether he wanted her too or not, so he stepped out into the light, causing her to jump back in surprise. “Cassian? What are you doing here?” her tone was not as welcoming as he wanted it to be. Realization hit her and she crossed her arms, “Did you follow me here?”

“Yes, but only because it was King’s orders. I am assigned to guard you,” Cassian explains, deciding not to go into anything else the King commanded him to do. He couldn’t believe that Tamlin was the T in the letter, it had to be him. “Why did you follow Rita?”

Nesta rolls her eyes, “I don’t need to tell you anything,” and her voice is hostile, he knew she was building a wall between them and it hurt, but he knew in the long run it would protect her better than he could. “Rita was weird tonight, I wanted to make sure she was okay.”

Cassian felt guilty for thinking she was the mole, he wasn’t even following her that well and she barely noticed. All she cared about was making sure her friend was okay. “Are you walking me back?” Nesta asks, he couldn’t quite grasp the tone. He stays silent. “I don’t know why you’re acting weird but after overhearing that conversation I don’t really want to walk back alone, you can even do you ten steps behind me.”

He couldn’t say no. Nesta wasn’t the kind of girl to ask such questions so he gives her a curt nod watching as she moves down the hallway before walking behind her.

#dont worry them being happy wont last forever #nessian #acotar #cassian #nesta archeron #nessian fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #sjmaas #rhysand #feyre archeron #the selection au

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annafm · 4 years

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(MEDALION RAHIMI, NONBINARY) - Have you seen ANNABEL MAJIDI? ANNA is in HER/THEIR JUNIOR year. The LITERATURE + INVESTIGATIVE JOURNALISM MAJOR is 22 years old & is a SCORPIO. People say SHE/THEY are DILIGENT, ADROIT, CYNICAL and AUSTERE. Rumors say they’re a member of WINTHROP. I heard from the gossip blog that THEY ARE FAKING BEING A PSYCHIC. (JAMES. 21. EST. THEY/THEM.)

hllo this is anna i hvnt .. played her in a while <3 bt thts okay i think she is very fun 2 play bt like in the way tht she is <3 serious n mean a bit ... bt its okay .. LHKDSGFHLKSDHLKG im sorry this is long this is. an old intro i hvnt rly changed much >.>

CAR ACCIDENT, INJURY TW

aesthetic.

falling feathers darkened at the tips, tweed and pinstripes, red trenchcoats and plaid skirts, worn ballet shoes covered in dust, smudged eyeliner and unruly hair, boxing gloves, ornate canes and pain medication, bandaged hands, classical music floating throughout an empty ballroom, worn jackets and awkwardly cut t-shirts, spilled ink and stained hands, glasses skewed, sneers and jabs, constant fighting, smog in a city, spotlights and encores, piles of books and a long line, backless dresses and sitting alone at a bar, wariness.

basic.

full name: annabel odeda majidi

nickname(s): anna, annie (father only), anna-banana (father only)

b.o.d. - october 31st, 1997

label(s): the catalyst, the charlatan, the minefield, etc.

height: 5′6″

hometown: nyc, ny

sexuality: bisexual

stats

favorite song: you’re dead, norma tanega / now, your hope and compassion is gone / you’ve sold out your dream to the world / stay dead, stay dead, stay dead / you’re dead and outta this world

background.

born to two high schoolers who never married, firoj majidi and parvana banai. they were head over heels for each other - when firoj graduated he took up two jobs alongside community college to support their family, until parvana graduated and took on the arts.

growing up was tough - living in the city wasn’t cheap, parvana’s art rarely sold and the two often went without eating in order to provide for annabel. as a child she’d often wear hand-me-downs from extended family.

was taught to be a hard worker and it was reflected in her schoolwork - anna excelled in all her classes but especially english. her love for writing grew at a young age, and as a child she saved up enough money to buy herself proper journals.

the only thing that she grew more passionate towards than writing was ballet - she caught the image of girls flying through the air and landing on their toes in the window of a dance studio on a walk home from school one day and that was it - something clicked inside of her.

that same day she would spend hours prancing about their tiny apartment, trying to mimic what she’d seen. it was easy to spot the passion anna had for the dance - and within a few months they had saved up enough money for a month’s worth of lessons.

anna was ecstatic - her slippers were old and found in the back of a thrift store by an odd miracle, but she put her all into the lessons regardless. she was quick to pick up on each move, and by the end of the month it was clear that anna had a natural talent.

parvana picked up a job in order for them to keep affording the lessons, month after month - they weighed down on their pockets, but it kept anna happy.

flash forward a few years - life was good. money was still a struggle but they were tight knit.

or rather, anna thought they were tight knit.

firoj and parvana split up when anna was twelve - an event that rocked the young girl’s world, something that she couldn’t understand. they had kept up a front of love when anna was home from school or ballet - but behind doors, they had been growing apart.

anna viewed their separation as parvana running off with another man - an art collector who had a fascination with paravana’s paintings. she viewed this as the end of the world. she viewed this as the death of love.

when anna was twelve, she swore she would never fall in love - refused to believe in its existence. she couldn’t wrap her mind around the simple separation.

her father got a third job in order to keep up with payments, and anna pushed herself in both ballet and school - not being able to handle an empty apartment. she decided to get a job - to help ease her father, but was too young.

so anna decided to do what any average 12 year old would do. she started scamming people.

she’d sell store-bought lemonade as if it were homemade, stole ceramics from art class and sold them to neighbors. she found an old girl scouts uniform in the back of a goodwill and for the next month, she sold knock-off girl scout cookies from the dollar store - going door to door.

her personality had changed drastically - anna went from a sweet, optimistic girl with warm brown eyes and an infectious laugh to cold, calculated, and downright cruel. she knew what she wanted and how to get it.

she got an invitation to a prestigious private school, full scholarship, before she hit high school - originally wanted to reject it as the thought of being surrounded by new york’s richest teens was appalling, but their ballet program was a one-way ticket into the american ballet theatre. anna ultimately accepted the scholarship.

high school was immediately hell for her - pretentious rich kids who all shared a collective brain cell and her secondhand uniform being a prime target for them.

ballet got extremely competitive - anna was a threat to every dancer in their program, bullying and sabotage became standard - but anna retaliated when possible.

this all, however, suddenly stopped when anna picked up her latest scam: faking psychic. through a small network of ‘bees’ she’d pay to gather information (gossip, rumors, etc. etc.) she was able to accurately ~see~ into students’ past, present, and potentially future affairs. the money was very worth it.

from that point forward, people were intimidated by her.

when anna was 16 she was handpicked to join the american ballet theatre’s studio company, alongside 11 other lucky individuals. her dream from that point forward was to become the youngest principal ballerina for abt - and she was going to start by winning over the role of clara in their production of the nutcracker.

she was 17 when she was chosen, much to the dismay of the other girls. she had momentarily quit her ‘psychic’ business in order to dedicate the entirety of her time towards rehearsals & practice.

the final week before her first performance as clara, anna got into a car accident heading home after another tiresome rehearsal. knocked unconscious, anna woke up three days later with no recollection of the accident - and her leg freshly operated on.

it was a devastating event that should had killed her - maybe she would had been better off if it had - but instead, it had effectively destroyed any chances of her dancing professionally.

it took two months of extensive physical therapy for anna to walk again - now relying heavily on a cane.

with ptsd and depression weighing heavily on her shoulders, anna turned back to writing - mostly as a coping mechanism, but it soon became the fierce passion it once was when she was younger.

for the remainder of her high school life, anna dedicated the majority of her time towards recovery, her writing, and directing her school’s theatre productions. oh - and claiming that almost dying had given her the gift of mediumship. it wasn’t too far off from her psychic claims - her peers believed it well enough to either stay away, or pay her for a small amount of comfort.

decided to attend yates for their reputation despite her hatred for pretentious schools (very ironic because she herself is pretentious) & also. she had a scholarship <3 so.

in the midst of writing her first book that’s based heavily on her experiences as a low income student at a private school but like. she’s side-eying all these societies and seeing a Big Money Grab if she were to. write abt them instead

still can’t dance any longer, but she works as a ballet assistant for one of the dance instructors & still tends to barge her way into theatre rehearsals to <3 give her unwarranted opinion

personality & facts.

she’s not the friendliest person. knows what she wants and how to get it, and will not hesitate to use people or push them out of her way in order to achieve her goals.

her cutthroat nature was the reason for her success in academics and dance - tends to intimidate the students in the ballet classes she helps out in.

horribly stubborn - if she’s got an idea of you already in her mind, then it’s hard to convince her otherwise.

still uses a cane - in fact, she can’t really walk without it - unless she wants to be in pain.

it’s sturdy, ornate, and pretty fucking solid. doubles as a weapon if need be - has definitely … hit people with it before, though she’s calmed down now that she’s a little older.

used to be very angry, very defensive as a teenager - is still the same, just … less intense. will not hesitate to speak her mind and let her opinions known - especially in the face of injustice.

doesn’t really have the best … relationship with authority, mainly because of where she was raised and her con-artist businesses. tends to be snarky and sarcastic to anybody in charge - or really, anybody in general.

pretty distrusting, pretty emotionless on the outside, doesn’t like to be seen as weak or somebody to be pitied. keeps herself closely guarded and doesn’t really let others ‘inside’ due to her own comfort levels.

she’ll sleep around but dating is out of the question, for the most part - she’s been on a few blind dates, a few casual get-togethers - but she’s always the one to break things off. is more of a careful hook-up kind of gal.

still does her psychic medium business !! sometimes she wonders if she’s a bad person because of it - but ultimately, it’s on her customers for believing in all that nonsense anyway. anna herself is a skeptic - doesn’t believe in anything unless she can see it and feel it.

is actually … a pretty sentimental person, doesn’t take anything she’s got for granted, and is hugely appreciative of her father. sends him money when she can. hasn’t spoken to her mother in years - pretty sure she’s got a step / half-sibling or two but she’s never met them.

a lone wolf and likes it that way, but she isn’t super opposed to friendship - even if she won’t necessarily call anybody a friend. appreciates others who are similar to her - got their head on right, and knows what they want in life.

has a pretty bad fear of driving - will uber if she needs to go anywhere - even then, being in cars makes her pretty anxious. still has ptsd-induced panic attacks, though she’s managed them pretty well.

doesn’t really do drugs! will smoke weed to ease the ache and her nerves, but otherwise she only takes what is prescribed for her. doesn’t drink anything hard, either. big fan of beer and wine. probably gets wine drunk home alone late at night … like … two times a week.

goes between being high strung and uncaring - she’s not especially moody ( rather, is just consistently angry for whatever reasons ) but she definitely tries to bottle everything up.

probably keeps pepper spray on her at all times, even though she’s got her cane. has cat ear brass knuckles on her keychain - took advantage of the archery club at her private school. she’s not paranoid, she just likes being prepared.

has a soft spot for children, animals, and soft women. kind of person who will put herself in the line of danger in order to protect others - even if she doesn’t necessarily know them too well.

also the kind of person who’ll set something on fire - or do something because you’ve told her not to. incredibly spiteful when wronged. will raise hell if need be.

morally ambiguous tbh.

wanted connections.

who do u think i am ;; either uh. people who have seen her around campus being a bit of a freak like <3 kick someone’s tire in a small fit of rage <3 or spend 20 minutes trying to coax a cat near her so she could pet it <3 or having a that’s so raven moment <3 or someone who tried to help her out with something and she was like. excuse me. what the fuck. get away from me freak loser. maybe threatened them.

slowburn but make it evil ;; uh. when i played her as older she hd a plot where she <3 ws engaged n then broke it off bcos her fiance cheated <3 so i wld like another. plot where she actually <3 tries to enjoy someone else’s company and presence and it just ends up hurting her n reaffirming her idea tht love is? fake n dumb n stupid. thank u.

ykno ... a little dash of spice ... ;; uh. yknow just hookups. hateships <3 or they never talk abt what happened <3 or an awkward drunk one night stand <3 maybe a pregnancy scare and shes like Ah. motherhood Scares me. because she <3 hates her own mother <3 LDSLKFHLGSHLK. it leaves their relationship rly weird the whole ordeal ... maybe even just a blind date <3 or someone she ghosted

read my future ;; customers very classic uh. just people who come to her for her psychic readings <3 and her uh. talking to the dead <3 but also alternately. skeptics ?? people suspicious of her ?? very epic.

like actually Die? ;; enemies. she hates them so bad. maybe its one-sided. maybe theyre an annoyance. maybe she annoys them? very bad not very good.

and we dance dance dance, dance dance dance <3 ;; this is just. fr ballet students. or, hold up, consider this: someone who recognizes her frm this. very tragic event where she cld no longer b a ballerina bc i think it ws. like not the Biggest deal bt if ur muse ran in private school circles ykno ??

pet the feral cat ;; these r the soft <3 normal connections <3 someone she’s soft for / protective of. friends that she doesn’t completely hate.

i Do Not Know ;; i will. take anything. please. weed dealers, people she’s totally sus about for no reason. she steals and reads their mail. they have been rivals for years. they hv a special bond. they r strangers but they get stuck in an elevator. she’s tutoring them bt she wont let them take a break n she keeps making them recite fucking. shakespeare. anything is sexy and fun n cool

#yatesintro #car accident tw #injury tw #ptsd tw

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like-the-wings-of-butterflies · 4 years

Text

This Moment In Time (Racetrack Higgins x Reader)

Summary: Upon moving into your first apartment with Race, you’re reminded of the moments that led you to where you are

Warnings: Some mild angst quickly followed by sweet sweet fluff because I’m an absolute sucker for it

Word Count: 2,244 (this is longer then any of my usual stuff wtf)

A/N: I KNOW I’M A QUEEN BLOG BUT I NEEDED TO WRITE THIS AND DIDN’T FEEL LIKE SETTING UP ANOTHER BLOG TO POST IT SO ENJOY SOME OF MY OTHER FANDOM NONSENSE

A.K.A - I rewatched Newsies for the upteenth time (god bless you disney +) and it sparked an idea which is only a tiny little bit self indulgent

Feedback and comments are always appreciated! ♡

“So this is it.” You breathed into the darkened room, a smile dancing on your lips.

Race placed the burning candle in the centre of the one room apartment before rising to his feet again and grasping hold of your hand. The gentle flickering glow revealed that the small apartment. It was neglected to say the least, paint peeling from the walls, dust-encased windows and the odd squeaking floorboard; certainly a step up from the lodging house however. “I know it ain’t what we were dreamin’ of, not even close, but it’s-“

“It’s got a roof and it’s got you,” You finished for him, squeezing his hand in assurance with an honest smile despite him barely being able to see through the darkness. “It’s perfect. Nothin’ a bit of cleanin’ won’t fix.”

Truly, you couldn’t help but fall for the mess that was Racetrack Higgins. When you first showed up on the doorstep of the lodging house at the age of 13, it was Race that volunteered to take you under his wing and teach you the fine art that was selling newspapers. Staying as his selling partner permanently wasn’t exactly part of the plan, either was becoming one another’s best friend, but the pair of you couldn’t imagine selling with anyone else; having grown too accustomed to each other’s company.

He’d always flirt with you - as he would with every other person who’d give him the time of day— flattering you with compliments and cheesy pick up lines at every opportunity. You’d flirt back of course, not being able to resist the handsome blonde’s charm, but at the cost of catching feelings; no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise, a childhood crush steadily emerged, turning the heads of the other newsboys.

But as the years progressed, you both matured into young adults. Your experiences bringing you closer together as you grew fonder of one another day by day.

Never in your entire life did you think you’d be living anywhere else but the crumbling walls of the lodging house or in one of New York’s damp alleyways. Yet here you were, hand-in-hand with your fiancé, settling into your first home together. Many were shocked that you were engaged at such a young age, but neither of you could truly see yourselves without the other in your life. Now too old to live in the lodging house, Race ironically managed to find work operating printing presses, and you as a server at Jacobi’s. In a unlikely twist of fate, you managed to earn enough money to move into the small apartment and support yourselves, all while keeping a close eye on the other Newsies.

“Should we check out the penthouse?” Race grinned ear to ear, running to the window upon your nod. He wrestled with the frame for moment before it opened with a satisfying ‘crack’ that echoed through the apartment, before stepping out onto the fire escape.

“M’lady~“ Race offered his outstretched hand with a charming smile, helping you step onto the raised surface. Your breath hitched as you saw the landscape in your surrounds. You were about four floors up which made the view expansive, and you suddenly became keenly aware of how many beautiful sunrises you’d be able to watch from your current position. You’d been in Jack’s penthouse on a couple occasions, but never just to sit and admire the view.

“How the hell did we make it here Racer?” You breathed in awe as you watched lights and lampposts decorate the otherwise dull streets of New York, like little stars in a blackened sky.

Race wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into a sweet embrace, your back pressed against his chest and his head resting on your shoulder, “I was just the prettiest Newsie you’s had ever seen and you’s couldn’t help but fall for me,” He teased, pressing a long kiss against the side of your neck as he giggled lightly to himself.

“You don’t think growin’ up or working together our whole lives had anythin’ to do with it?” You jested back, reaching a hand behind you to fiddle with the curls upon his head as you closed your eyes and leaned into his embrace.

“Absolutely not. But the strike?” He mused thoughtfully, “That’s when I realised I loved you.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was no surprise waking up to Race sitting on the cold floorboards beside your bunk the night after the strike had been announced. Your beds weren’t too far from one another and Race always slept lightly, often being the call of comfort whenever anyone was having nightmares. He gently shook you awake while brushing away the tears that stained your face, smiling lightly once your eyes opened.

“What’s goin’ on Doll?,” He whispered out, careful not to wake the others, “Why you’s havin’ nightmares?”

“I’m scared what we’re doin’ is gonna get us all hurt,” You croaked out into the darkness, doing your best to hold back a sob. “That we’s gonna end up in the Refuge.” Nobody was oblivious to the chances of the strike ending in violence, the stakes were high; you were only a group of kids fighting against one of the most powerful men in New York after all.

Race’s hand stilled on the side of your face, his warm palm flat against your cheek grounding you and bringing you a sense of comfort. He could see in your eyes just how scared you were.

“I’m scared too,” He admitted before pausing, seemingly collecting his thoughts, “But we’s gonna be okay. Jack and Davey are smart, they’s know what they’re doin’.” He vowed, taking hold of one of your hands and rubbing his thumb against your knuckles.

You both sat in silence for quite some time, both too distracted by your thoughts swirling around your heads. As you felt your eyelids growing heavy, you lightly tugged on Race’s arm who brought his eyes up to meet yours.

“Stay with me?” You queried, eyes hopeful.

Without so much as a second thought, he lifted the thin sheet covering your body before sliding into the small bed, his chest pressed against your back, “Anythin’ for you (Y/N).”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

A few days later, when the bulls attacked, you were an absolute mess; much like the others. In such a short amount of time, your entire world had flipped upside down and everything was shrouded in a new sense of seriousness.

Of the entire group, Davey, Mush, Albert and yourself had come out relatively unscathed - save for a couple bruises - meaning you’d been tasked with patching up the others who weren’t as lucky. You’d just finished tying up Les’ arm into a sling, only as a temporary measure however, just to stop the energetic boy from exercising it too much until he got home. You bargained on the fact that Mrs Jacobs would have a far better fix to his seemingly broken arm, knowing that if worst came to worst, the family could afford a doctor.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” You grinned softly as you walked towards Race in the back corner of the lodging house, shrouding himself in the shadows of the late afternoon sun.

“Ha ha.” He imitated, his usual playful attitude absent as he refused to look in your direction.

Something wasn’t right.

With your bodies facing each other, his legs hung over the edge of the table he was perched on as you remained standing. After a few moments of unmoving silence, you lightly tapped his knee, asking him to move so you could stand between his legs. He complied, but kept his eyes secured to the wall on your right. Slowly, you reached out to cup his jaw with a gentle hand, tilting his face to meet yours. You face fell the instant you saw the extent of his injuries.

His left eye was swollen shut, with hints of black already forming on the delicate skin. His chin was tinged an unforgivable red from where he’d wiped away the blood from his busted lip and damp trails ran from his watery right eye.

He’d been crying.

Your own tears welled up when he looked you in the eye, and you found yourself biting your lip to stop any from falling.

With your other hand, you grasped hold of the brim of his worn hat and placed it on the table beside him, letting the mess of curls fall lose against his face.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded solemnly, bringing a hand up to wipe away at his own tears before resting his head against your chest and wrapping his arms around your back, “You?”

“Just shaken up.” You stated, wasting no time in wrapping your arms around his shoulders and placing your chin upon his head. The pair of you stayed like that for an extended period of time, without anyone questioning you. It was a hard day for everyone, no one needed to make it any harder. After some time, the sun had set and the lodging house was quieter then ever before. You longed to sit down and fall asleep yourself, your legs sore and aching. But you couldn’t bring yourself to disturb the heavy sleeping form of your best friend. The years of denial on your behalf, stating that you hadn’t caught feeling for Race were long forgotten now.

The things you’d do to make that moment last forever.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

A few days later, you and the other Manhattan Newsies had recovered for the most part. Physically, everyone were well on their way to healing, but emotionally there was still a fair way to go. Crutchie was still in the Refuge and Jack was still missing but everyone had managed to rest up while Davey reassessed the group’s future movements.

While the others sat glumly in Jacobi’s, you’d decided to go for a long stroll around New York to clear your head, musing the thought of visiting Crutchie in the Refuge. He was one of your closest friends, so sweet and so caring with an equally as vibrant personality, the thought of him in such a wretched place brought tears to your eyes.

You’d helped Jack smuggle food and blankets on too many occasions to count; how difficult could it be without him?

Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the shout of your name from a long way down the busy street. Race’s figure came into view quickly, his chest was heaving as he sprinted down the cobblestone footpath towards you. Immediately, you panicked, thinking Race had been caught stealing cigars again and the cops were on their way but much to your surprise, he slowed as he neared you. Rather then desperation being painted across his features, his face held joy. Pure, unadulterated joy.

“We’s in the papes (Y/N)!” He gasped out, bending to place his hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

“What are you talkin’ about Race?”

“Katherine got us in the paper!,” He heaved, sweat glistening on his forehead. He pulled the rolled up newspaper from underneath a strap of his suspenders, before unrolling it to the front page and holding it out to you, “Look! That’s us!” He beamed, pointing a finger at the image underneath the headline: ‘NEWSIES STOP THE WORLD’.

In your slight state of shock, you glossed over the story and mentally took note to personally thank Katherine later on.

You actually made it into the papes.

“You’s know what this means?” You queried, your smile transforming into a bright grin as you grabbed hold on Race’s hands, tucking the paper under your arm.

“We’re famous.” He finished for you, his grin matching yours.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Newsies of New York City.” Jack addressed from the top of Newsies Square, Joseph Pulitzer at one side and governor Theodore Roosevelt at the other. It was nice to see him back where he truly belonged, the so-called ‘King of Manhattan’. You could feel your heart beating painfully in your ears as you awaited the news, the anticipation making every second feel longer then what it actually was. Race’s hand was tight in your grasp as you sucked in a final breath, “We won!”

The chorus of cheers that sounded was deafening. It was finally over. After two ruthless and unforgiving weeks of striking, and everything had finally come to a close.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realise you were holding and turned towards Race. Race grabbed your shoulders and pulled you into his chest, laughing and chorusing while you were grinning ear to ear yet entirely speechless.

When he pulled away, you were slightly disappointed with the loss of contact, but when his arms around your body were replaced by his lips against yours, the world melted away. Slow and soft yet fiery and passionate the same time, as unpredictable as Race himself. His hand moved to cup your jaw and draw you closer, your arms finding their way to wrap around his neck.

When you pulled apart, there was stars in both of your eyes.

“I love you (Y/N).”

“I love you too Racetrack.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You sighed lightly at the fond memories, feeling incredibly grateful for all that had happened in order to bring you to where you were.

“We’s really made it huh?”

Race briefly chuckled into your shoulder, before raising his head and placing another long kiss against your neck, “We’s really made it.”

#newsies x reader #racetrack higgins x reader #race x reader #newsies race x reader #newsies #jack kelly #davey jacobs #jack kelly x reader #davey jacobs x reader #x reader #fluff #fanfiction #fanfic #writers on tumblr

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sn0wshimmer · 5 years

Text

hhhh I need to talk about this warriors au sitting around in my brain anyways here goes

Differences in clan custom:

- It’s pretty normal to bring in and/or mate with outsiders so as to keep the gene pool not so... incesty...

- Clans pretty much are a large family unit. It’s not uncommon for cats in the same age group to think of each other as siblings despite not being from the same litter.

- LGBTQ+ is seen as a normal thing and accepted without much question. It’s customary for cats to introduce themselves with their pronouns included.

- Mollies can be deputies/leaders while nursing kits. The idea that they can’t is just sexism.

- Sign language is a standard skill because,,,, let’s be real,,, it’s pretty much practicality.

- Disabled cats can be warriors because the only reason they can’t is ableism.

Storyline changes:

- Tiny was found by Bluestar on her own rather than Thistleclaw and Tigerpaw. He becomes part of ThunderClan under the name of Nightpaw, and later Nightstorm.

- Rusty and Princess join ThunderClan at the same time as Firepaw and Kindlepaw. Firepaw is trans.

- Sandpaw and Dustpaw don’t bully Firepaw. However, Sandpaw is generally unpleasant because of losing her father recently, and Dustpaw is destructive and unpleasant because he and Ravenpaw were loner kits with an abusive mother before coming to ThunderClan. They both get support.

- Ravenpaw stays in the clan and earns the warrior name Ravenfeather. He has support for his anxiety and PTSD.

- Mosskit is the child of Bluestar and Thistleclaw (result of a one night stand). They are non-binary and go by they/them. They’re a ThunderClan cat and their warrior name is Mossheart. They mentor Firepaw.

- Tigerclaw is less Obviously Evil, he’s a lot more covert about his actions.

- Tigerclaw is Snowfur’s son and Whitestorm’s brother. That’s why Bluestar falls apart after that, because that was her nephew and she loved him dearly.

- WindClan doesn’t get kicked out because that’s whack and really never would have happened in any sort of realistic scenario.

- Brokenstar is less... stupid. He makes smarter decisions. Basically, instead of training young kits, he collects lots of rogue allies and wages war on the other three clans.

- Crookedstar X Bluestar instead of Oakheart X Bluestar. Because the idea of this just being a taboo subject that a lot of people kind of know about, but they’re just rumours and like as if our two clan leaders would have had an affair with each other? Gold.

- Crooked X Blue have Mistyfoot, Stonefur and Silverstream. Bluestar pretty much stares down her daughter and thinks “why did she do literally the exact same thing I did” and Silverstream’s death is the first thing that starts pushing her towards breaking.

- Stormkit and Featherkit go to RiverClan without a fight because the claim does belong to the mother’s clan regardless of circumstance. Graystripe doesn’t change clans (he can’t bring himself to leave his entire family for one that won’t trust him) but is still very much present in his kits’ lives.

- Firepaw, Kindlepaw and Graypaw stay apprentices until the end of the second book.

- Dustpelt, Ravenfeather and Sandstorm become warriors before the other three apprentices.

- Cloudtail is Ruby’s son. Ruby is leader of BloodClan (renamed “The Clowder). She couldn’t deal with having a son and leading The Clowder, so she gave him to Nightstorm instead.

- Fireheart, Kindleflame, Nightstorm and Cloudtail actually have significant family relationships.

- Cloudtail, Ashfur and Ferncloud are foster siblings and it’s relevant.

- Cloudtail, Ashfur and Ferncloud are Sandstorm’s younger siblings and it’s relevant.

- Dust X Fern is changed so that it’s less creepy.

- Snowkit lives. His warrior name is Snowcloud.

- Cinderpelt, despite being disabled, is not a medicine cat because she’s disabled. She’s a tripod (born without a leg) rather than an accident happening. She becomes a medicine cat because she wanted to be one.

- Yellowfang was originally named Murkstorm, but Brokenstar changed her name as a way to disgrace her.

- Swiftpaw is Brambleflower (Bramblestar) and Tawnypelt’s older brother and it’s relevant.

- When The Clowder comes to the forest, Ruby tries to take Cloudtail back. He declines, and ThunderClan straight-up refuses to give him up.

- Leafpool is a demigirl and Squirrelflight is agenderflux. Brambleflower and Squirrelflight have a toxic relationship (so basically canon) and eventually the truth about the three’s parents is the final straw that break’s the camel’s back. Squirrelflight gets together with Nightcloud and Brambleflower with Stormfur. Alderheart and Sparkpelt are Nightcloud and Squirrelflight’s kits.

- Squirrelflight and Crowslash (Crowfeather) have a one-night stand resulting in kits. Squirrelflight rather than Leafpool because it’s less out of nowhere. Squirrelflight doesn’t know if the three are Brambleflower’s or Crowslash’s until the kits are born and Hollykit has almost his exact coat and Jayfeather has the exact same WindClan build. Crowfeather knows upon seeing them that they’re his but keeps quiet. Brambleflower notices but blames it on coincidence. He had some doubt in the back of his mind but it’s mostly gone by the time they’re apprentices.

- OKAY SO the story behind Squirrel X Crow. Instead of Feather X Crow, Crowslash and Squirrelflight have a highly passionate affair during the great journey, before breaking it off because they’d rather stay loyal to their clans. Squirrelflight moves on with Brambleflower and Crowslash “moves on” with Nightcloud. At first, all seems well until Squirrelflight and Brambleflower have a massive fight, and she finds herself at WindClan’s border. She is met with a Crowslash who immediately moves to comfort her. They end up getting more... sexual (Crow just can’t resist his old flame). Afterwards they are both extremely ashamed and vow to never speak of this again. That is, until Squirrelflight gets pregnant...

- Lionshade (Lionblaze) becomes the medicine cat instead of Jayfeather. He’s terrified of his powers and doesn’t want to hurt anyone. He and Jay say “fuck you” to destiny.

- Hollyheart (Hollyleaf) is the third cat. Their power is persuasion. They can convince others to agree with them or do things for them. They can’t make them do anything against their morals and it might not work against a particularly strong-willed kind of cat, but they just have a kind of... charisma about them. She doesn’t die in the last hope, but near the beginning of a Vision of Shadows.

- Dovewing is the fourth cat. Her powers remain the same. She’s pressured into becoming mates with Bumblestripe by her friends, Rosepetal and Blossomfall, because he loves her. However, she feels nothing for him. She’s only ever had one crush before, and it was on Sedgewhisker, an older molly from WindClan. She finds herself more and more drawn to another friend, however... Briarlight. Briarlight listens to Dovewing without judgement and helps her find the courage to break up with Bumblestripe. The two mollies become mates not long after.

- Ivypool is pretty much the same as she was in canon but Fernsong is a bit older. Blossomfall is their other mate and they’re in a happy polyamorous relationship with their lovely kits, Bristlefrost, Flippaw, Thriftpaw, Shellfur and Plumstone.

- Thornclaw’s a single dad, his kits are Eaglewing and Stemleaf.

- Leafpool dies in the final battle of Omen of the Stars, leaving Lionshade devastated. Hollyheart also dies. Lionshade then takes on his younger half-brother, Alderheart, as his apprentice, and it becomes a really precious sibling bond.

- Shadowpaw is Tigerheart’s son with another molly (not sure who yet). He’s still the same as in canon, just not Dovewing’s son. Lightleap and Pouncestep are still Dovewing’s daughters however.

- Tigerheart never becomes leader. In fact, he STAYS. DEAD. Tawnypelt is ShadowClan’s leader instead.

And yeah that’s all I got so far should I make a separate blog and turn this into a rewrite?

#warrior cats #Warriors #warriors au #warrior cats au #warrior cats rewrite

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revan-escence · 5 years

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10 OC facts

I was tagged by @etoilebinaire to do this and I never turn down a chance to talk about my OCs, so let’s start with my oldest swtor OC, Rhyka!

1. Despite not having an education prior to the Acolyte trials on Korriban (she was not taught to read properly until she became an apprentice under Zash, where she taught herself slowly and has not admitted to anyone due to classic Sith Pride™), she does have a sharp and hypervigilant mind with a natural aptitude for learning, with specific interests in areas including Sith history, legends, and holocron study, which made her unintentionally ideal for the position of Darth Nox on the council and close partners with Talos Drellik. She has her own personal library which is rumoured to have archives on documents and histories banned by past Sith and various Emperors, and forgotten holocrons. She has never cared to address those rumours.

2. She wears two masks: due to her slave brandings, she does not like to leave her face visible, and she likes to have an identity other than that of Darth Nox for smaller errands and missions. When she wears the Dread Mystic mask (left) she is known as Darth Nox, which she wears to more prestigious and important events, and her ancestor’s mask (right) is what she wears when she wishes to be seen as Lord Kallig, and interact with other sith lords without being recognised as a member of the Dark Council. That being said, Lord Kallig has a place of residence on Tatooine, better known for its parties and gatherings of other Imperials close to the Sith lord, with the odd closely monitored Republic. Darth Nox, on the other hand, has a place on Yavin 4, and it is not known what she does there.

3. She has lightning scars down the entirety of her left arm, which reach up her neck, stopping only on her left cheek. This comes from the first time she used her Force Lightning skill- the first time she used the Force at all, them- which left permanent reminders. She also has scars from being whipped as a slave on her back, which is why she never wears vaguely revealing clothing- which have presented themselves as an awkward issue when invited to high society social events.

4. The scar on her forehead is a Hutt mining slave branding, mostly illegible now from her constantly scratching it. The branding under her eyes are newer than the one on her forehead, which she cannot remember not having, which reads in Aurebesh as “DANGEROUS // FORCE SENSITIVE”. Due to her life as a slave, she also hates Hutts with a passion.

5. She is obsessive about her appearance to the point where she hoards numerous articles of clothing, and various other items. This is because, as a slave, she grew up not having most of the basic essentials, such as things to wear. She does not have mirrors on her ship, or in her strongholds.

6. Standing at a height of 6′7 (200 cm) and muscularly defined, she does not often need to try to intimidate people. She still walks with a slight hunch from years of trying to remain unnoticed, which is a difficult habit to unlearn.

7. She has not cut her hair since she left slavery. Since slaves owned by the Hutt she served were shaved bald for convenience, this refusal to cut or style her hair is a small act of defiance.

8. She is somewhat emotionally stunted after being raised as a slave in a highly lethal sector. Every emotion other than anger or hatred is an unusual experience, and not necessarily an enjoyable one. Despite this, she is fiercely loyal and protective to her crew, and to those who have treated her as an equal and not merely as a means to an end. She does not know if she has felt love, but she felt something when Marr died, and it terrifies her.

9. Sometimes, when she has the time, she replicates and takes apart old holocrons to further study the information left within. Even more occasionally, she compiles a collection of information from various archives, holocrons and datapads that she thinks a person would be especially interested in, and gifts it to them, pretending that it was no effort at all and a coincidence that there was a specially decorated holocron with a niche topic lying around in Rhyka’s library. She was working on one for Darth Marr when she was called away to assist with hunting down Vitiate, and now it collects dust on an unused desk.

10. She has two incredibly pampered Tauntauns, which often is joked by Andronikos that they live better lives than the Darth and her crew combined. Rhyka often responds by making the Tautauns sleep in his bed.

This was actually more fun than I expected! I tag @colors-of-fear (for some reason tumblr won’t let me tag your main blog??), @etoilebinaire (because I know you’ve got more OCs and I need to see them all) and everyone who sees this is also welcome to try it, but only if you like!

(But please do tag me should you do this because I really want to see your OCs!)

#Sounds about Rhyka #swtor #Star Wars The Old Republic #character memes #Sith Inquisitor #darth nox

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aoibaratraveler · 4 years

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A Look Back At My Time In Japan Part 1!

Time for some Japan nostalgia!

I was hoping to write this much sooner than now but between settling back after our road trip, finding a job and then finding time to organize my life during my days off has been difficult!

This will be part of a three semi-detailed/summarised blog looking back at what I can remember from living in Japan three years ago; since I was too much of a fool to document it back then but then again I was having the time of my life so that can be a good enough excuse I guess, right?

Part One will be my first month in Japan where I was living in Tokyo with a friend who graciously let me stay in her apartment. Part Two (and maybe three) will be my four months living, studying, and working in Nagasaki and Part Three (or 4) will be my hitch-hiking back-packing trip around Japan in what was my final month of my six months living there!

Pre-arrival/Arrival in Japan and First Impressions:

I was excited beyond belief that I was finally going to go live and explore Japan and be away from home for the first time. I was also super nervous, the preparation to study abroad was pretty intense for someone who had never done it before and for someone who had never gone through the paperwork of visa application, passport renewal and getting all the documents together for the study abroad application itself. Once that was settled though it was just the wait to be able to go (maybe I should write a simple how-to of my experience with the study abroad application and why I think every university student should do it?). I purchased my departure ticket to be on 29th February 2016 which I thought was pretty cool since it’s not every day you get to fly on a leap year. About six months prior to this I had met up with a close friend of mine who was about to leave for a year to participate in the JET programme and she, we’ll call her L, invited me to stay with her for the month of March in Tokyo to sightsee and hang out before my study program would start in April and of course I took her up on it!

In the days leading up to my departure, I really went all out and planned my own going away party with all my friends and had the best time with an escape game, archery tag and a poutine party. The bf, who at that time was just a friend, met up with me beforehand and helped me pick out a bunch of Canadian souvenir type things to bring with me to Japan so I could give to my homestay family. It was a fantastic day and very special so I had no idea that on the day I was set to leave that one of my other close friends, A and the bf planned to sing me a going away song at the airport (to be clear, the bf didn’t actually sing, A did and he provided the music on his laptop and speakers). This tidbit may a bit unnecessary in my nostalgic walk down memory lane but it is just part of what made those six months some of the best times in my life.

Anyway, enveloped in jitters and excitement I boarded my plane to Japan to start my journey, or as the Japanese say “tabi” (旅). I flew into Haneda airport which is quite central to Tokyo and I then found myself squeezed into a sea of evening commuters on the metro. Unfortunately, when I got off the metro and proceeded to take the escalator out of the station…I dropped my suitcase down it and one of the wheels broke which made walking around Tokyo a tad difficult. At that time I hadn’t realized that there was free wifi pretty much everywhere in Tokyo and while trying to find my friend’s apartment…I got lost for about an hour. It was pretty funny and I wasn’t too worried, to be honest, but I did feel bad to be keeping my friend waiting. I found a payphone to try and call her to tell her what was happening but I ran out of change while on the call (had a bit of leftover change with me from when I had first vacationed in Japan two years prior). After a while of walking around and trying to follow google map’s offline directions, I found a koban (a small police station) and gave the police officer the address that I was trying to find. The police officer was very kind and accommodating and pulled out a map to show me where I was and where I was trying to go (which actually wasn’t too far away…I was walking in circles). He then copied down the address on a big piece of paper with some instructions and hailed a taxi for me since he figured it was late and I should just take a taxi which I didn’t mind. I got to my friend’s place in no time at all and settled myself in.

First Two Weeks in Tokyo:

In my first few days, I took out my Japanese textbooks so I could prepare myself and brush up on things to be ready for classes at my university in Nagasaki and because I was planning to be staying with a homestay family that could speak no English…..well, being that I am pretty much the queen of procrastination, those collected dust pretty fast. Since it was a small apartment and I had a suitcase and big travel rook sack with me, L’s sister advised me to just send it to my homestay to be stored there in the meantime. The Japanese postal service is amazing and although my suitcase was pretty big and heavy they had no problems with shipping it to my homestay in Nagasaki the same day.

L’s neighborhood was quite cute and quiet and super pleasant to explore. It was pretty suburban and away from the hustle and bustle of central Tokyo which I greatly appreciated. Since L had work, I often explored on my own and was able to borrow her sister’s bike to further acquaint myself with the area. One of the days I borrowed her sister’s bike, I rode to Arakawa river which is a huge river just outside central Tokyo. I brought my textbooks along and thought I would spend a quiet afternoon just revising next to the river. I didn’t. Instead I rode the bike along the river and took everything in. There were other people there on runs, some guys practicing skateboarding and an old man playing the saxophone. When I finally got around to sitting down and opening up my textbook, a friendly old man walked up to me and with a big smile on his face asked me what I was doing there and why I was in Japan. I told him and we had a pleasant conversation at the end of which he handed me a bag of something from his garden–I think basil? And then told me to enjoy Japan. I didn’t exactly know what to do with this bag so I just gave it to L’s sister who had been doing most of the cooking in L’s place to include in whatever dish she was next going to make.

In the following days, I did all the typical touristy stuff in that I spent an entire day at one point just walking to and around central Tokyo and taking as many artsy photos as I could manage with my old phone. I explored around the Tokyo Sky Tree, perused Sunshine city—definitely made sure to check out all the Ghibli and Sailor Moon items I could find and get a spectacular view from the 59th floor (the place has 60 floors but you have to pay from the 60th and I ain’t about that life).

At the end of my first week in Japan, I made my way to an Airbnb hostel where I would be spending the next 4 days. This place was pretty interesting and my first real hostel experience. Everyone there was really friendly and I became quite close with my roomie who was the embodiment of a stereotypical German woman in that she was tall, pretty, had long blonde hair and sky blue eyes. She was in Tokyo for a mini-vacation from where she had been staying in Hokkaido and basically just wanted a change of pace. We exchanged stories, shared a few laughs and went sightseeing together. We are both fans of anime so we decided to check out Akihabara and since neither of us wanted to go to one alone, we decided to go to a maid cafe…and boy was that an experience. Firstly, it was super expensive so props to the girls who work there because they probably make a ton of money but it was also just very awkward. The maids put on a performance and called us “master” and refused to take any orders for food from us unless we put our hands up to our faces like cat paws and said “nyaa nyaa” first. Afterward, we did the very cliche anime couple thing and went to ride a pedal boat at Ueno park; it was a very silly but funny day. In the following days at the hostel, the roomie and I explored Shibuya crossing, the Hachiko statue, the National Museum of Nature and Science in Ueno on a rainy day and went to a Pokemon center where I purchased a little Charmander souvenir for the bf (who was then just a friend). It was definitely a very cool little pocket of my time in Tokyo. I ended off my first two weeks in Tokyo by visiting the imperial palace and exploring the royal gardens and…..go to the Ghibli Museum! The Ghibli Museum was beyond impressive and I definitely teared up a bit to be there. It was so cool, we weren’t allowed to take any photos from inside but it was like being transported to another world. On top of the museum was a life-size statue of the robot from Castle in the Sky and inside the museum were all these cute little bits from the movie and a mini theatre where you could watch original Ghibli film shorts. There was also a lovely gift shop with so many beautiful items like illustrated postcards; I purchased a lovely illustrated postcard of the Ghibli museum during the day…which I inevitably misplaced (I’m terrible, I lose everything).

Second Two Weeks:

I met up with a Japanese friend who I had met in Vancouver and we went for a day trip to explore Kawagoe also known as “Little Edo”. I say day trip but really it wasn’t until I got there that I realized that Google had lied to me when I searched best day trips from Tokyo because as lovely as Kawagoe was, it wasn’t worth a “day trip” because it was so small that it could be done in an hour or two! It was really quite funny, to be honest. It was very pretty and had loads of old-style architecture from the Edo period, hence where it got its nickname but there wasn’t all that much to do and a bit expensive to get to so after a couple of hours of walking around and trying to make our money’s worth of the train ticket to get there we decided to head to the next biggest spot to explore; Yokohama. Yokohama was definitely very fun and vibrant and the Chinatown there was great. We snacked on a bunch of samples and enjoyed the pretty night lights of the area. It was certainly a day with a lot of contrast.

The next day was great because the next day L and I headed to Taiwan! L managed to get a week off and so we thought why not explore Taipei during that time and get a little break from Tokyo. I, unfortunately, did not know the geography of the city too well and when I booked the Airbnb it ended up being too far from the centre of Taipei city and hence too far from any convenient connections to explore outside of Taipei PLUS we went right in the middle of the rainy season so it was a bit difficult to do any fun outdoorsy things. We still made the most of our time there and had a lot of fun. We ate at a few night markets and tried a lot of food, explored the area near our Airbnb, visited a cafe that was owned by a family friend of L’s and went to the National Palace Museum which housed tons of historical artifacts from China, it was pretty grand. Even though we spent the last two days of our trip sick in bed I’d still go back to Taiwan again to explore more of what the country has to offer and try more of the food!

Last Week in Tokyo + Night in Fukuoka:

I spent the majority of my last week in Tokyo just chillin’ really and preparing for my departure to Nagasaki, although I did go with L and her sister to do some lesser-known sightseeing in parts of Ginza and did the obligatory visit to the Tsukiji fish market to taste a delicious array of food. As well as some egg on a stick. Good stuff. The last bit of sightseeing that I can remember for that week was in two really interesting parts of Tokyo that not many people think to visit when they explore the city (well this was back then, it seems to have gotten a lot more popular now) known as Yanaka and Nezu. These two neighborhoods make up what used to be Tokyo old downtown and have really kept their old-timey style. Walking through these neighborhoods felt like taking a trip back to the Show era of Japan and walking through the Yanaka cemetery felt very mysterious and cool. I gotta be honest though, as pretty as these places were, I mostly remember them because of the delicious beef korokke and taiyaki that I had there. 10/10. I’m only in part one of my nostalgia blogs but I’m telling you now that I basically ate my way through Japan.

So it was my final night before heading to Narita airport for my flight to Fukuoka and what did I decide to do? Laundry. Except L didn’t have a dryer and the weather wasn’t warm enough for my clothes to be dried fast enough to pack them up and I’m not sure what exactly happened but I think I broke the washer or something because for some reason the water didn’t drain so it wouldn’t have mattered if she had a dryer because my clothes were soaked. With only an hour to go before I had to be out of her apartment (L was asleep and I had decided to just not sleep that night since my flight was so early and I had to leave her apartment at 5 am), I wrung the clothes out as best I could, packed them in the new suitcase that I purchased in Taiwan to replace the one that I sent to Nagasaki with the wheel I had broken on my first day in Tokyo and was off. L’s place wasn’t far from the train station and I arrived 20 minutes before the first train of the day so I decided to go grab some breakfast and use the toilet at the nearby 7/11. Many convenience stores in Japan have two floors and a seating area so it’s a really nice place to just chill for a bit if you’re waiting for a train. A bit dramatic but I’ll never forget this day for the sheer amount that happened in a single morning. So I said before that I thought I’d use the toilet before heading off for the train and I guess for the first and only time in my life, I left the door unlocked…well a construction worker walked in on me on the toilet because of course. I screamed, he screamed and then he awkwardly and for some reason, slowly, closed the door while I died of humiliation. Anyway, I finally hopped on the train to Narita with tears of humiliation still in my eyes and also simultaneously laughing at myself. There weren’t many people on the train thankfully but I’m sure I was still dubbed a crazy foreigner in the minds of the people that were on the train. Oh, by the way, I may not have kept a journal at the time in a technical manner of speaking but I did have a daily journal in the form of me texting the bf every day (again, he was just a good friend at this point) and sending him long messages of what I did every day. Having him to confide in all the time definitely helped me to not go insane, especially that day and especially since Japan is ahead of Canada so he was still awake at that point. Once I arrived at the airport, I was to be greeted by the news that my suitcase was too heavy to be checked in without having to pay an extra exuberant amount, why you may ask? Because my clothes were still frigging wet. Well, partially owing to that and the fact that I accidentally purchased a heavyweight suitcase in Taipei…oops. After some reorganization of my suitcase and bag and *ahem* throwing out some things that I no longer deemed necessary to my life, I was finally able to be checked in..rather late (everyone was waiting for me, what can I say? I was a mess). Pretty sure I cried in my sleep when I finally arrived at my seat on the plane and passed out.

It was a relief to finally arrive in Fukuoka and the airport was so close to the main train station! It only took about 7 minutes to get there. I obviously got there really early in the day so I walked around Hakata station and explored the area before meeting up with the rest of the people who were part of my exchange program for the Nagasaki University of Foreign Studies at the hotel that they were to be staying at and signing in to show that I had arrived. Now I said they were staying at that hotel because of course, I wouldn’t be. But don’t worry, this was by choice, why spend the equivalent of $80 somewhere when the true shoestring traveler way is to rough it up somewhere for little to nothing? It took a bit of searching but I managed to find a family restaurant that was open 24/7 and not too far from the hotel (although sadly had no wifi), left my big ol’ suitcase outside (yay for safe Japan) and headed inside for the night where I did my best to study for the whole night, order some food every now and then and eventually pass out for a couple of hours. The next day I met back up with the exchange group, boarded the bus to Nagasaki and headed to the university to meet my homestay family who I would be staying with for the next four months! (spoiler alert: my homestay mother was about an hour or two late to pick me up and I was, in fact, the last person to be picked up at the university…so yea the first of many reasons why my homestay experience was certainly an interesting one).

#lifeinjapan #nostalgia #studyabroad #japantrip #firstsolotrip #japantravel #japan #Travelblog

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