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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

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Rex and Anakin Raise a Family: Part Four

Part One, Part Two, Part Three – Chrono

Warnings: grief, resentment, lactation, animal death

----

For all that Anakin had said he could handle the twins, Rex still takes one in the sling as they go into town. They don't have a hoverpram yet, and neither of them could figure out a way to fold the fabric to securely hold the babies' heads up. Anakin takes Luke, and Rex takes Leia, and they ignore the whispers that still follow them.

The General keeps just behind his shoulder when they get to the hardware shop that carries the closest paint they can find in such a small town. It's not meant for armor, really, but speeder paint will do the trick for now. Rex's hands shake as he picks out the shades he needs, and the young Rodian at the register almost asks about it.

The issue isn't pressed.

They make their way back to the cottage, and Leia starts fussing fifteen minutes past the town's edge. Anakin looks like he wants to offer to take her back, but Rex is fine. He can comfort her. He can--

Anakin takes the paint, floating it along in the air before them, freeing Rex's hands to focus on the infant strapped to his chest.

"I'll feed her as soon as we get back," Anakin says, low and calm. "She's a little hungry."

Pacifier, then. They're only a few minutes out, by now. She can wait for them to get back to where exchanging the twins won't involve juggling.

Rex feels eyes on him, looks up and sees the soft, quiet smile on his General's face, and ducks his head back to Leia.

She glares up at him as well as a newborn can, sucking angrily on the paci in her mouth. Rex has no idea if she's actually upset or if her face just naturally follows such an expression, but it's adorable nonetheless. He hums to her, nonsense without words.

He's never learned lullabies; they picked up drinking songs in the field and from local soldiers, from their Jedi, war songs from their trainers, pop songs from the radio. A few learned lullabies, those who loved children and wanted their own, one day, brothers like Waxer who would have adopted Numa in a heartbeat if it had been an option.

He wants to learn lullabies. He wants to be able to sing children's songs to these tiny, helpless lives he holds in his hands, day in and day out. He wants to learn Mandalorian songs, real ones, not just battle chants and mourning melodies. He wants to be able to raise them with the childhood he didn't have.

"Rex? Door's open."

He looks up, and Anakin's standing on the porch, pulling the keys from the lock and gesturing in with his head. Rex hadn't even realized he'd stopped walking, subconsciously waiting for the blockage of the door to be handled. It's easier to focus on the children.

The paint gets sent to the backyard--trapped fumes wouldn’t be good for the children--and Rex lays Leia down in her crib. Anakin urges him to the backyard, says I’ll handle it about anything Rex uses to delay, and it’s only a few minutes later that Rex finds himself sitting on the grass, armor spread across a sheet of disposable flimsi, paints and brushes at the ready. He doesn’t quite remember setting it up, but he must have.

Anakin joins him, a twin in each arm and the Force laying out a picnic blanket. Leia’s nursing, swaddled up but content to suckle, and Luke seems happy to doze when Anakin sets him down on the cotton gingham. It’s a warm day, with a light breeze, and the babies are where the wind won’t carry the paint fumes.

“I’m here if you need me,” Anakin promises, though his attention drifts immediately to his daughter.

Rex begins to paint.

----

His remembrances are endless.

Every brother he’s ever known, every general he’s met, every small commander and random civilian, everyone he loved and knew. He lights a pyre, sings under his breath and tries not to break in a way that can’t be patched together. He mourns the tubies and cadets, the Jedi younglings, names he never learned and now never would.

Anakin gets Japor from somewhere, carves it whenever he’s too jittery to sleep and the twins are asleep. Rex recognizes a few symbols, like the open circle fleet, like Fives’ helmet eel, like Ahsoka’s markings. There are more, though, that are wholly unfamiliar, things he thinks are born of desert sands and binary suns, rough and painful and deeper in Anakin’s heart than even the Jedi.

He asks about the one for Fives, when he sees it.

He hides his anger.

Explanations, first.

“It’s an apology,” his General tells him, eyes distant. “I should have listened to him. I didn’t. The carvings are regrets, broken trust... that sort of thing. I’m part of why he died, and in that, part of why the rest is gone. He and his memory deserve a place of honor.”

Rex considers that, and accepts it.

Fives deserves an apology. The General recognizes that.

The General recognizes that he fucked up.

This is a good thing.

Rex lets go of his anger, still curled tight to his chest after months, as best he can.

He’s not very good at it, but he can try.

Luke starts crying, and Rex gets up to warm a bottle.

----

“I need to stay close to home until the twins are a little older,” Rex says. Teskarim, the woman at the childcare store, tilts her head to encourage him to continue. “I’m... I’ve never been anything but a soldier, and nobody here needs security services, but I can hunt. Do you know if there’s any kind of licenses required, or lists of which animals are legal hunt and which are endangered?”

“I... don’t,” she says, chewing her bottom lip. “But I think the butcher’s shop can probably point you in the right direction.”

Damn. He’d been hoping he wouldn’t have to talk to anyone new today.

“Thanks,” he sighs, and shells out some of the local currency for more formula.

----

The butcher has answers, and preferences. Rex isn’t much of a trapper, but he’s a hell of a shot, and decent enough scout and tracker. He listens to what there is to hear, and mentally takes all the notes he can. There aren’t any licenses needed in this hemisphere, but there are legally-defined hunting seasons for different creatures. The butcher knows when the optimal times of day are, which parts of the nearby forest and mountains are best to stake out, and so on.

Rex tells Anakin about his plan. He gets a slow blink in response, a cringe in what he thinks is guilt, and an offer to meditate for the best direction to take when he goes out. He accepts the offer in the spirit its meant, and sets out the next morning with the expectation that he may need to spend a few nights out under the leaves and stars.

The calm and quiet are their own kind of comfort. He’s loyal to Anakin, and he already loves the twins, but there’s a part of him that needs to be away from natborns right now. Anakin was a Jedi, a general, and fought in the metaphorical trenches with the rest of them, but he wasn’t a brother.

They grieve many of the same people, but they do not grieve the same way.

Rex needs the solitude. Not forever, not even for very long, but he needs it.

It takes two days, but he finds one of the in-season creatures, a creature shaped much like an Alderaan deer, but larger, and with longer fur. It’s darker in color, too, and he gives it a bit of time to wander about until he can be sure it’s a male, and he’s not about to leave some fawns without a mother. The shot is clean, and it doesn’t take him very long to tie it up and sling it over his shoulders to bring back to town.

The trek back takes hours, and the creature on his back is a pain to carry, but it’s almost worth the looks he gets from the civvies. Eyes bulge out the sockets at the sight of him, and he’s glad his helmet hides his smirk. He’s Kamino stock, hardened by over three years on the front lines, and there’s a pride in how easy the physical things are for him. It’s not impossible for a natborn to carry this kind of creature this far without help, but it’s uncommon.

He kind of likes the attention, now that it doesn’t come with the many prejudices that being a clone always had.

Anakin meets him at the butcher’s, one twin on his chest and the other on his back.

Seems he’s found a solution to that.

“Here to help me barter a fair payment?” Rex asks, and gets a too-charming grin in response.

“Well, I’ve been doing it most of my life,” Anakin says, cheery in a way that feels pasted on. “And I’ll have a trick to know if we’re being cheated.”

It’s a solid response, but Rex doesn’t like it. He takes note of the bags under Anakins eyes. “Have you been sleeping, sir?”

“Twins,” the man himself says. “And don’t call me ‘sir,’ Rex, we’ve been over this.”

“You need to sleep, General.”

Anakin pouts at him, probably because of the title. “I can handle two days alone, Captain.”

Rex rolls his eyes and sidles through the entrance of the butcher’s shop.

They’ve got this.

#Rexwalker #Captain Rex #Anakin Skywalker #Skywalker Twins #Luke Skywalker #Leia Organa #past Anidala #Phoenix Posts #Rex and Anakin Raise a Family #star wars #the clone wars #time travel #I have a couple tumblr-based ongoing fics but this one... meanders

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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Hue and Cry IX

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), mild violence, male-iinduced anxiety

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: The first day of the tournament arrives.

Note: My pupper had surgery yesterday and it was my longer day of work for the week so lots going on. Also had some bad Chinese but managed to get this out before it came back up. Feel better now and I'll have a shorter day today.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Lord Barnes’ mood did not improve in the days leading up to the first of the tournament. It grew colder in the capital and many feared the events would be cut short by an early winter. You didn’t care much either way. You had no interest in the sport or much of anything. You just abided the duke and in those times he left you alone, you laid in a void.

His want of you didn’t wane nor did your despair or the disgust you felt when he touched you. It was one thing to be a servant, to be a tool, a means to an end, but what he used you for now seemed little more than torture. He delighted in what he did, in how he made you suffer. Those times you remained unmoving and unfeeling angered him the most.

You dressed in yellow that morning. The horns announced the beginning of the tournament as you made your way to the stand amid the sea of guests. The wives, daughters, sons, mothers and fathers of those who would compete. You were out of place as you climbed the wooden steps between the benches and a green sleeve shot up to wave to you.

“Dearie!” May brushed past her husband to stop you at the end of their seat, “here, with us,” she insisted, “we did save you a place.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” you said quietly. You hadn’t seen her or her family since the night of the feast. Since Barnes had…

“I can’t have you sitting alone,” she trilled as she pulled you along with her and sat beside Lord Benjamin who bowed his head and issued a gentle greeting. “And I always longed for a daughter, you know? Peter’s a good boy but so troublesome. I did try to persuade him not to enter the lists but he just never stops.”

“The boy’s old enough,” Benjamin said, “when I was his age--”

“You married me,” May cut in, “a foolish decision indeed. He is on the roster for today. Sparring. I fear he might not make it past the early rounds but so long as he is not hurt.”

You nodded and covered your hands in your sleeves. Even with the fur-trimmed cloak Barnes allotted you, it was crisp. Your matching cap barely kept the cool air from your cheeks. Your leg shook from more than the cold as you recalled that Barnes was set to compete with the sword as well.

“A fine cape,” May commented as she touched the edge of your cloak, “with sleeves even.”

You looked down at the fawn-coloured garment that only allowed a peek of the canary yellow beneath. You fidgeted and kept your eyes on the field, “a gift,” you lied, well, maybe it wasn’t a lie, or maybe you’d bought it in sweat and tears.

Another horn blew and she quieted and clapped as all looked to the center of the arena. The wooden stands were hung in all shades of silk, the banners of each house, high and low, covered the rafters. By the end of the day, only one would remain. Lord Barnes’ blue and ivory flapped opposite your side and Benjamin pointed out his family's slender red and black crest amidst the panoply.

You were thankful for the distraction, not for you but for them. You didn’t know how many lies you could conjure or if you could keep the false smile on your lips. You clamped your hands together and watched a man in gold stroll out to the centre of the stadium with a cone to project his voice. You stood with May and Benjamin and the rest of the onlookers

“Fine ladies and gentlemen, princes, paupers, and everything in between, we welcome you in name of King Samuel to the Games of Goblets. For each competition, the victor is to be prized a goblet to bear as a symbol of his prestige. For the ax-throwing, bronze inlaid with amber, for the bow-and-arrow, silver set with citrine, for the melee, gold set with sapphire, and for the joust, a fine piece in gold set with opal and ruby.”

The crowd applauded and shouted. The man waited for them to quiet again, “This day, we begin with the melee, on the morrow, the axe, the next day, the arrow, and on the final day, we ride!”

Again, the audience grew rowdy and you were deafened by the cheers. The man laughed at the excitement and held up his hand for a final lull.

“Without further delay, let us begin. In our first round, the lower lords and the untested, before the second where they shall meet our season veterans, and so on…” he gauged the fervent tension of the people, “you will see me again upon the finale and perhaps you will be surprised by whoever stands with me.”

Again, the stand quaked with the energy of the people. You would have liked to sit but you stayed on your feet, afraid to draw unwanted attention. The first pair was announced but you didn’t watch. You stared at the sky or a rippling banner but had no interest in the games.

You only stopped to look as Peter’s name was called out and May grabbed your arm. She squealed as her nephew came out decked in his used armor, beaten out from its former user’s wear, and he unsheathed his sword to face his opponent. When the handkerchief was dropped, you were as stunned as his fellow competitor and the crowd by his swiftness. You’d never seen anyone move so fast, and in at least twenty pounds of armor.

The crowd awoke from their awe and cheered as his sword beat against the other man’s suit with tinks and tunks. It was like a bell, ding, ding, ding. It wasn’t until the other man was on his knees that the spar was ceased. Peter was declared the plain winner and sent on to wait for his next engagement. May wiped away tears of joy and Benjamin grumbled his approval.

You smiled, just a little. You were happy for Peter. You’d seen how joyful he was, he was likely dancing behind the curtain right now.

🏰

It wasn’t until the second round that Lord Barnes was introduced. He walked out fully armoured like any other combatant but his left arm was permanently bent, a shield strapped to it as he gripped his pommel in his right hand. He showed his steel and faced his match. He dealt hard and heavy blows until his opponent was on his back.

You shuddered at his unboasting victory as he wasn’t even patient enough to hear himself declared the winner. You touched your cold cheeks and puffed into the bitter air. The bodies around you warmed the stands but you were chilled to the core.

Peter appeared again in the second, then the third, fourth, and to his aunt and uncle’s delight, he soldiered onto the final. To your fear, he was to meet Lord Barnes. You tried not to squirm, not to show how nervous you were for Peter. You thought of running down and begging him to withdraw but what could you say? If anything, you’d both be worse for it.

As the last two banners were presented to the crowd, you sensed movement to your right. A familiar head of blond hair approached and the tall duke pushed past the row of people along the bench. Lord Rogers smirked as he came close, his sweaty hair drooping down his forehead from his last bout, the one he’d lost to his closest friend.

“Ah, I found you,” he said, “lady.”

You felt May peek past you and you gave a meek “my lord” as he stood close. He looked around you at the older couple.

“You have friends,” he stated, “please, do introduce us.”

You looked down and chewed your lip. You turned slowly to May and Benjamin, the latter peering past her only as he was torn from his fixation on the field.

“Lord Benjamin and Lady May Parker, baron and baroness,” you rubbed your hands together nervously, “Lord Steven Rogers, duke of Astrens.”

“Oh, we’ve heard of him,” May chirped, “my lord, it is an honour.”

“Indeed,” Benjamin agreed, “my lady, you did not inform of us of your lofty friends.”

“She is modest,” Rogers intoned, “we met by chance, really, through a common acquaintance.”

“You were skillful on the field, it is a pity you were bested,” May said.

“Very pitiful, I did put some gold on you, Lord Rogers,” Benjamin added, “alas it was a fine showing.”

“Wasn’t it?” he turned to stand with his arm pressed to yours, much too close for your liking, “however this one should be intriguing.”

“It’s our boy,” Benjamin said, “and your friend, my lord.”

“Perhaps you’d take another bet?” Rogers countered.

“I’ve lost enough this day,” Benjamin snorted, “I’d rather watch and be pleasantly surprised than paupered.”

“Prudence is wise but always so boring,” Rogers mused.

As the lower of the lords, Parker was announced first and you were saved from more uncomfortable banter by the man in grey. Rogers nudged you and bent as the introductions went long as the man with cone went into detail about the day’s fights all the way to the present match.

“I did look fine out there, didn’t I?” he whispered, “good form, even if I did lose. Barnes is in a mood and we both know that makes him… unpredictable.”

You lowered your head, “my lord.”

“You are quiet since last we met,” he remarked, “perhaps your thoughts linger on how else to use your mouth?”

You squirmed and stared at the competitors as they awaited their signal. Rogers laughed and stood straight as he focused on the field in kind. He played with your sleeve and tugged your arm down. He caressed the back of your hand and stepped even closer.

“When he wins, he might just be cheerful enough to share in his celebrations, hmm?” he said under his breath.

The gold cloth was dropped and the two men circled each other, eyeing their opponent cautiously. Barnes was the first to act but was evaded by the younger man. He didn’t not falter however as he swung again. Peter rolled under the strike and met it with his own steel, batting it away so that it nearly struck its holder.

Barnes dodged that time, then the boy spun again. They danced around each other, both swift, both calculating, both determined. Steel met steel but never that which clothed the fighters. May grabbed your other wrist as she held her breath.

Barnes laid a hit across Peter’s chestplate that made him stagger but he turned it into another lithe evasion. He snaked around the higher lord and hammered his false arm. The shield cracked in half and Peter ducked again.

Barnes was angry as he stabbed out. His blade was shoved away again and Peter jumped over the foot that tried to trip him up, a true achievement in armor.

You realised as Barnes laid a flurry of blows at the air that he was angry. The crowd silenced as the realisation fell over them and they watched as time seemed to slow. The duke was losing and he was enraged.

Peter jabbed the other man’s chest plated with his sword then hit his true arm. The sword bobbled in Barnes’ grip but he regained his hold on it. Too slow as Parker struck over and over, throwing him off balance, and sweeping him off his feet with a low lunge.

As Barnes clattered onto his back, the breath went out of him and every other person in the stadium. The man in grey shook away his shock and finally stepped forward.

“Our victor!” he grabbed Peter’s arm and raised it, “the Lord Parker!”

May hopped up and down and hugged her husband. Steve tutted and shook his head. Your eyes clung to Barnes as he sat up, forgotten in the dirt. His left arm was stuck at an angle away from his body and he reached up to force it back down.

Peter offered him his hand and was ignored. Barnes sheathed his sword and offered a curt bow before he exited. Rogers’ hand crawled up your arm and he gripped you. “Well, looks like we both will suffer his loss.”

For once, he spoke the truth.

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honey-makki · 4 years

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Firsts

Characters: Tsukishima Kei X Fem!Reader

Summary: Fate works in mysterious ways to bring people who are destined to be together, to actually be together.

Warnings: Sex!! blow jobs, face riding, virginity loss

Genre: fluff, smut

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Well this started as a drabble request but here I am a week later with a 5k fic about it. Soft tsukki inbound. I hope you enjoy @salty4tsukki bc I def enjoyed writing this.

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Being an only child is not a precursor to being lonely. Memories of family game nights, shared dinners and movies watched filled the air of your house letting you know that you were both never alone and, oh, so loved.

You knew that having as healthy a home environment was unusual and that it was part of the reason that you are so emotionally intelligent. Many of your peers couldn’t stand their parents and found every excuse to avoid being home. Sure, you and your parents had arguments about curfew or the number of texts you sent every month. The last argument happened every time you brought home a grade that was unsatisfactory, which wasn’t often, but consistent enough that it was a recurring problem.

“I’m just tired of them expecting me to be perfect! It’s unreasonable for them to expect perfect grades, being on a starter for the soccer team, and involved in other clubs! I’m only one person.” You ranted to Tsukki, sulking around his room before plopping on his bed, arms covering your sighing face. Tsukki was the only person you came to with family problems because you knew he would understand and not push you. The usually sassy boy always softened these days, knowing that this was the one thing that you couldn’t handle being teased about. Today, he looked at you with soft pity, knowing the amount of work you put towards everything just to be told it’s not enough.

“I could tutor you in English if you want? I know we have our usual pre-exam study sessions, but I really don’t mind making them more regular if you think they would help.” Tsukki might listen to you complain but he still isn’t the best at empathy, rather resorting to problem-solving. He showed his care and compassion to you subtly. Offering his solutions in a way you could make them sound like your own, knowing that provided a semblance of comfort. Allowing you into his room whenever you needed to complain and not questioning your feelings. Always offering you a hoodie or jacket when you were worn out from crying, knowing that the warmth would lull you into a much-needed sleep

You knew he cared about you. Yes, sometimes you over exaggerated your feelings to take advantage of that, but only because you wanted his jacket on your body. The thought that it was his arms rather than just a Tsukki scented cloth surrounding you. Only crying a little harder with the hopes he would offer to have a movie night which always meant cuddles. No, you never faked your feelings to him, not wanting to lie to your best friend and consistent childhood companion, you just embellished them.

Relishing in the fact that for maybe, just ten minutes that Tsukki wasn’t just your best friend, that he grew past friends as he aged, and saw you like more, as his other half. The person he wanted to spend not only his childhood years with but also every single one he still had left.

You aren’t sure when you fell in love with Tsukishima Kei.

It could have been his moment against Shiratorizawa when you saw him truly experience joy for the first time in the sport he spent so much time. It could have been the time he gave you his rain jacket when it was pouring before you walked home, knowing it wouldn’t do much against the downpour, but the barrier being symbolic. It could definitely have been the time you went over to study and you walked in on him singing to himself while studying, the soft tenor notes gracing your ears. You only really remember how his voice made your heart skip a beat, the flush of his ears when he turned around catching your eyes.

All you know is that you were hopelessly in love with the man who had been with you every step, every stumble of your life. The man who towered over you but never made you feel smaller than he, the man that laughed before checking on you when you tripped, but always ensuring you were truly ok.

Watching him grow into his height and his body gaining muscles during highschool was both a blessing and a curse. Your eyes were drawn to his figure, shoulders hunched over on his desk, deltoids peeking out of the sleeves in a way that made you want more. Yes, you loved looking at him but sometimes it plagued you.

Eyes scrunched shut and heavy breathing, all you can think about is what Tsukki might look like under those clothes. It was a curse, lewd thoughts of your best friend being the only way you could get off anymore. That didn’t stop you from plunging two fingers in and out for your dripping cunt edging yourself closer to your release. At the precipice, you pull your fingers out and eagerly circle your clit, the other hand moving from gripping the bedsheets to pulling at and groping your nipples. Tsukki’s name leaves your lips like a fervent prayer as you cum to the thought of him. You never felt worse about yourself than you did at this moment, but somehow you found yourself here regularly.

You didn’t know that at that exact same moment Tsukki was in his room thinking about you. The way your smaller hands would fit around his dick, the hesitation you might experience but be driven forward by lust. The thought of being the first and maybe the only person to touch you always drives him to his release.

He might have fooled around with some girls before, a handjob here and there, amidst a make-out session, but he could never find it in himself to go further. He couldn’t, no, didn’t want to be with anyone else, because he knew that the whole time he would be thinking about you under him.

As you had aged, sleepovers became less frequent but were something the two of you still cherished and actively made time for. Tonight is one such night, having just finished your final midterms and gorging yourself on celebratory ramen from your favorite shop. Tsukki’s parents were out of town for the week, but were used to your presence in the house and didn’t mind you being over.

You being there should have been fine, nothing out of the normal but that's not how fate works.

Once you arrived at his place you both changed into lounge clothes getting ready to binge the latest season of Game of Thrones. You went to the kitchen to grab you both some water, knowing neither of you will want to get up once you start.

Tsukki must have had the same idea because as you rounded the corner of the kitchen, you were met with a brick wall and a frigid wave running through your body. You realized it wasn't through your body when your nipples began to harden, peaking through your now translucent shirt. While you are still shocked at the chill, Tsukki looks down to see what happened. Instead what he sees is you, accidentally exposed, the white shirt clinging to the curve of your body like a second layer of skin.

He knows that if he doesn’t avert his gaze that he won't be able to suppress a rising tent in his pants. Committing the image to memory quickly, he apologizes for being in the way, “Shit Y/N, I’m sorry. Feel free to go grab one of my shirts to change into. I’ll clean the mess up.” With that, he moves towards the kitchen to grab a towel, brushing against your body in the narrow hallway.

You head up to his room and go to his dresser, you’ve watched him put his laundry away before, knowing exactly where he keeps his biggest and most comfortable shirts. You strip off your shirt, skin pebbling at the breeze from his fan. Blushing at the fact you are taking your clothes off in your crush childhood friend room, you strip off your lounge shorts now noticing they also have been soaked.

As you pull his practice jersey on you notice it reaches your midthigh, which causes a brief internal conflict. Should I grab a pair of his shorts even though I know they’ll be too big? This shirt is longer than my shorts were anyways, but it’s not the most decent thing. The deciding factor in opting for no shorts was nothing to do with you, rather with the man waiting patiently downstairs. It had everything to do with the glint of intrigue in Tsukki’s eye you spotted earlier, the almost imperceptible hitch in his breath, and the burning touch he left on your body as he passed you in the hallway.

Tsukki was not even thinking about what you would look like in his clothes as he had more urgent problems. His cock was achingly hard in his sweatpants, the gray not doing him any favors of hiding how he felt about seeing your body. He was doing everything he could think of to suppress both the thoughts of you and blood rushing downstairs.

After quickly cleaning up the spill, he got situated on the couch with a blanket hoping it would help hide his current problem as he got it under control. Tsukki spent the remaining time of your absence struggling to distract himself, reciting poetry meditating, anything to not think about it, think about you, think about the curve of your che- fuck he was failing.

His eyes shot open at your weight landing next to him on the couch. Subtly looking over your form, that he now has burned into the back of his eyelids, seeing you drowning in his clothes, his volleyball clothes. Wait, is she just wearing my shirt? His gaze lingering on the soft expanse of your thighs, knowing that he should be able to see the hem of your shorts with the way you are sitting. The thought of you in your underwear almost makes him moan, his already hard dick twitching with precum budding at the tip.

You shoot him a smile, apologizing for taking so long and say you're ready to watch if he is. After some time has passed, the air is nipping at on your still slightly wet skin, you scoot closer to Tsukki and get under the blanket with him. The slight abrasion from his sweats on your skin sent electricity tingling throughout your body and unknowingly did the same to him.

Reaching forward to grab a glass of water after a particularly gruesome scene, your phone tumbled out of your lap. Not really thinking you lean forward and grab it, slightly raising your ass into the air to reach the last few inches. You plop back down with a grunt and throw your arms open, hoping Tsukki would know that this is your way of saying you needed to take a break from the show for a bit.

Neither of you expected the moan that escaped his lips as you brushed across his now very obvious erection. Neither of you knew what to do after either, he flushed red with embarrassment and hid his face, you with your arm still where it landed on his thigh, unable to move. “Y/N, can you please move?.” he barely chokes out. The obvious restraint in his voice was a sound you had only previously daydreamed of.

Driven by lust, or excitement, maybe even fear that another opportunity would arise, you do move, but not in the way he had intended. You get up off the couch and he's sure that you are getting ready to leave, disgusted with him, but instead, you settle in on your knees between his thighs. Doey-eyes looking up through your lashes with hesitant excitement. “Ok, I’ve moved, what next?”

Is the one thing he dreamed about is really happening? The actuality of it seems almost incredulous. “Y/N, stop joking, I’m sorry about this. They just kinda, happen sometimes.” He can’t meet your eye because he’s sure he would cum just from the sight of you between his legs.

“If you don't want me here Kei, I’ll move, but I’m serious.” As you say his first name, another moan comes from his throat, spurring you to action. Biting your lip, you move the blanket and hesitantly grasp his erection.

Tsukki is hazy with confusion but simultaneously everything is crystal clear with pleasure, unable to focus on anything due to the duality inside his head. Even if he wanted to tell you to stop, to stop and think, he wouldn’t be able to choke out the words.

He notices you aren’t really moving which is driving him mad until he looks down and sees just how pure you look. “Kei, I don’t-- I don’t really know what to do. Just tell me what you like and I’ll do my best.”

“Princess, are you sure you still want to do this?” as he pulls you up to eye level, cupping your cheeks. Seeing your nod and nervous smile, he leans forward to kiss you.

The chill that had previously permeated your body is replaced with warmth, the feeling of his soft lips moving in time with yours, his gentle but assertive grip on your back acting as heat sources. It’s a comfortable warmth, an invitation into him.

You plan on taking that invitation as he deepens the kiss, one hand in the hair at his nape, the other returning to palm him through his sweats. As he stops your kiss, holding in a groan you take that opportunity to return to your original position in front of him. Waiting patiently, looking up at him for instruction with an absolutely pornographic gaze.

Tsukki thought the image of your chest was the best thing he would ever see, but this takes the cake. Your hands playing with the waistband, with slight hesitation before pulling both his bowers and sweats down with his assistance.

You knew what a dick looked like, but that doesn’t mean you are any less intimidated when one is just a few inches from your face. Long and curved, a prominent vein running up to the head that is flushed red and slick with precum. His hand rests on your head with the other on his thigh. Seeing his excitement on his face gives you enough encouragement to kitten lick his tip two times. “Fuck Y/N, please don’t tease me,” his voice wavering between a moan and a whine, you’ve never heard him sound so dependent, so needy before.

Knowing that you are the one doing this to him gives you the confidence to start taking his dick in your mouth. You pause at the head, moving your tongue around, unsure what feels good until his grip on your head tightens as you rub against the bottom, just before the shaft. “Fuck pretty girl, please move your head down, please I wan--” A groan cuts him off as you follow his command. Slowly starting to bob along a portion of his length, with increasing speed.

“Spit on your hand and stroke the rest, god your mouth is heavenly” after pulling off to follow his command, you finally notice the familiar Tsukki-induced burning in your stomach, but amplified by a hundred when you see his cock twitch as you spit into your hand. He watched you with half-lidded eyes as you positioned your hand under your mouth, whispering uncharacteristically gentle words of praise.

Soft moans fall out of his mouth as you swirl your tongue around his head on every upward movement. Your hand mimicking the speed of your lips, trying to give him as much pleasure as you can. One particular comment of his shoots straight to your core, “Y/N, I never imagined you would make me feel this good.” The implication of him thinking about this, the same way you have, makes you moan around his dick, which in turn elicits a sharp intake from Tsukki.

His grip has been tightening on your head slowly, but all of a sudden he pulls you off. “Don’t wanna cum in your mouth without asking, just hand me a tissue.”

You never imagined Tsukki making the type of sound he did when you artlessly stuttered out “W-Well you have my permission.”

Returning your tongue to his tip, which is now angrily red and coated in both spit and precum, it only takes a few seconds before he bucks into your mouth as he orgasms. His cock reaches further than you expected resulting in you choking as he hits the back of your throat, unintentionally intensifying his orgasm.

He pulls you off of him, grimacing at the cold air hitting his spent dick, bending forward to look you in the eye.. “Pretty girl, I’m so sorry for that last bit, I didn’t mean to hurt you. Are you ok?”

The pressure of his thumb wiping off a few spare tears makes you wonder what his touch would feel like on the rest of your body. As your mind delves into lewd thoughts, you shift your thighs looking for some pleasure, and give him an absentminded “It was fine, unexpected but I wanna make you feel good.”

He carefully sits you in his lap and pulls you into a deep kiss, slow but hungry. He moves down your jaw to your neck before whispering “Well, I guess it’s my turn to return the favor huh.” You bite back your moan, but as he harshly sucks a spot at the base of your neck it slips out. “You don’t have to hide your noises, princess, let me know how good everything feels.”

He runs his hands up and down your sides underneath his shirt before they find your chest. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve imagined these.” You tug your shirt off and do the same to him. Both of you are just marveling at the beauty in front of you with lust.

He makes the first move, gently bringing your right nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, as his left-hand switches randomly between rubbing along your side and massaging your left boob. The warmth of his tongue flicking against your pebbled bud is miles better than your own fingers, endless breathy moans falling out of your mouth as you find purchase for your hands in his hair.

You must be unconsciously rutting against him because he stops his ministrations and stills your hips with a harsh grip. “Feeling needy now? Let me take care of you.” Tsukki rolls you off of him and you expect him to get on his knees in front of you, making you clench your knees both out of excitement and embarrassment.

So when he lays down on the floor in front of you and shoots you a smug smirk, “Come take a seat,” your jaw drops in shock.

“No, Tsukki, you don't have- What if I don’t taste good, please don’t worry about it-I don't want to suffoc-” excuses and concerns pour out of your mouth but your body betrays you at the thought of him licking your sex.

“Y/N. Get over here. I want to do this and I’ll ensure you enjoy it.” His tone was commanding enough that you moved from the couch to straddling his head without a thought, losing your panties along the way. Your mind is murky with lust and anticipation, thoughts of how many times you’ve imagined his tongue on your clit being the only thing breaking through the fog.

His tongue pierces through the haze as he runs the flat of it along your entire soaked core. Your body wants to pull away from the pressure but buck into the pleasure at the same time but Tsukki makes the decision for you, wrapping his arms around your thighs so you are snug against his face.

He repeats the action, trying to coax a moan out of you, adding a little more force each time. It isn’t until the bridge of his nose brushes your clit that you finally let out the noises you’ve held in. “Kei- hi- fuck- higher,” breathy moans coat your words in lust.

“Your wish is my command, princess.” His smug tone would have been annoying except for the fact that he was pressing hesitant licks against your clit eventually circling it with the tip of his tongue. You have no control over the whines you are making, only broken up by saying “yes Kei, yes, fuck” and other words of praise

Knowing how it felt when you moaned around his dick, he tries humming with his lips surrounding your clit and if he wasn’t already hard, he sure is now after the way you lewdly moaned his name and fiercely tugged his hair.

The view of your tits heaving along with your breaths drive him to be a little more aggressive with his tongue, mercilessly switching between toying with your folds to harshly drawing shapes into your clit.

Your cunt is drowning Tsukki in slick, coating his face and chin and he’s never been happier. Sucking your folds and using his tongue to taste all of you. He can't believe that anything has ever tasted better than you do right now.

He can tell by the legs squeezing his head, and the shake of your entire body you are close to your orgasm. Wanting to try something new, he slides his tongue into your hole, causing you to grip his blonde locks so hard, you probably pulled some out.

The wanton moans reverberating through the room are the only encouragement he needs to keep pressing his tongue against your tight walls. Your cunt so desperately wants to be filled its almost sucking his tongue in, but you know that alone won’t be enough to make you cum.

“ ‘m close, fuck. Please my clit, Kei please” The loss of his pressure in your cunt is overridden by the shockwaves of his lips around your clit, paired with him tracing letters and a deep moan from his throat. That was all you needed to be pushed over the edge. His moan continues as you ride out your high, hips jerking forward at the intensity.

As he pulls you into a sitting position on his lap, “Obviously I didn’t need instructions on how to make you feel good. I’ve thought about this for years.” You aren’t clear-headed enough to slap him like you usually would. All you can think about is the painful tension already building again in your core and his painfully hard dick pressed into your thigh.

You pull him into a kiss that conveys your unspoken words. Full of need and lust and wanting to make up for all of the time you lost. Your lips meet his harshly, like if you stop that it might disappear, afraid to pull back for air.

As he moves to your neck you instinctively rut your hips against him, looking for some form of release. Growling into your ear, “Oh, so one wasn't good enough for you? You want another orgasm?”

“Well, It’s obvious you want another one,” matching his smugness with another roll that causes him to groan.

Before you can recognize it, he's flipped you over on your back and is hovering over you, eyes committing every inch of you to memory, drinking in the sight of your body, pebbled nipples, slick coating your thighs, love marks he's left thus far. It’s almost enough to make him go feral.

Almost.

“Y/N, are you sure you want to do this? We can stop. I really don’t mind.” The concern in his voice is clearly fighting against the lust, just barely winning over his more carnal desires. His answer comes in the form of your hand grabbing his dick and giving it a few soft, needy strokes.

“Please Tsukki, I need you in me. I’ve thought about this for so long, no way am I stopping”

“Alright pretty girl,” and with that he returns to your deep kiss, your lips feeling like a home he never knew he left. He brings his hand down to your core, ghosting his fingers on your lips before teasing one finger in slowly.

You hiss at the pleasure, hands finding stability rooted in his shoulders. He takes your bottom lip in between his teeth to help distract you while he rocks it in and out of your pussy. Quickly, he could tell that you were ready for a second and slipped it in, being met with you clawing at his shoulders while letting out a wanton moan.

Tsukki moves to place wet kisses along your neck and down to your chest, sucking every once in a while and then following it with a swipe of his tongue. You miss the pressure on your mouth, but you can feel another orgasm building, and it's getting harder to breathe.

You genuinely do stop breathing when he takes one nipple in his mouth and uses his free hand to start rubbing circles into your clit. Well, if this is the way I die, I don’t really have any complaints. The coil in your stomach is about to snap and the only warning you can get out is slapping his shoulders.

The wave almost knocks you out, back arching off the floor while also trying to get more from the man between your legs. Inserting a third finger stretched you so good, he watches you try to fuck yourself on his hand through the orgasm, greedily wanting more.

“You ready, pretty girl? Ready to take my cock?”

“Shit yes, Kei, please fuck me. I’ve dreamed about cumming on your dick, please please--” you are reduced to babbling pleas when he runs his dick along your slit coating himself in your slick. The jolt of pleasure every time his head hits your already over-stimulated bud edges on pain but you don’t want him to stop.

You see stars and hear symphonies when he thrusts into you. A duet of his staccato grunts and your euphonic moans, accompanied by the fortissimo sounds of your pussy as he slides in. After taking a rest for you to adjust to his girth, his pace starts off slow but gradually increasing as you beg him for more.

“Fuck, please, fill me up, god I never thought your cock would feel so good, Fuck”

Your babbling praise is reduced to a high pitched whine when he starts slamming into you harder than before. The heavy slaps of his hips into yours replacing your moans in the melody. You barely process his words as the tip of his cock slams into your cervix with no remorse, over and over and over again.

“Did I just hear you say you didn’t think my cock would feel good? Do you want to go back to cumming on your fingers to the thought of me or do you want me to continue stretching your tiny little pussy out?”

Tsukki never minced his words, but the sheer lewdness of them causes heat to rise in your face. “N-no Kei. Please help, shit, me. Wanna cum on your dick so b- so bad.” His answer is to push one of your legs back towards your shoulder, the new position and the curve of his cock has him hitting that spot inside you always struggled to reach.

Every muscle in your body is tensed up, burning from the desire to cum. Shockwaves of pleasure radiating from your pussy reach the tips of your toes and through every hair on your head.

Your walls are clenching around him, wanting him deeper, even though there isn’t really any room left for him. Your body is driven by lust and disregards any pain you should be feeling, rather interpreting it as a different octave of pleasure.

You find your fingers on your chest, groping and tweaking your nipples, knowing that you get even more sensitive when you are ready to orgasm. “Kei, please cum in me, I wanna cum but I wanna, no I need to do it with you,” it sounds more like a moan or a plea than a request, but Tsukki was already struggling to hold back his own orgasm.

He took your lead, moving his mouth down to your chest and rolling your other nipple against his tongue. Simultaneously, he snakes a hand down to your vagina, to the spot you begged him to touch earlier and rubs meticulous circles on your puffy and neglected clit..

Your back arches off the floor at the first touch of your clit, and your cunt clenched around his dick, making it even harder for Tsukki to thrust in and out. Your orgasm is stronger than its ever been, you’re certain you blacked out for a minute, only coming to when you hear a hearty moan from Tsukki and another wave of warmth in your sex, this time coming from him.

His forehead pressed against your chest as he fucks you through both of your orgasms, hand still curling your clit, attempting to extend the euphoria you both feel for as long as he can. Your hands find their way into his hair and you gently tug and scratch his scalp, making him look up at you.

Your face may be covered in tears, and spit but he’s never looked at you with more adoration. You continue to pull him up to your face, placing sweet kisses all over his face as you both ride out the last waves of your high, his dick still inside of you. Wincing as he pulls out to lay down on the floor, he ends up pulling you into an embrace.

You look over to his content face, illuminated by the television, eyes closed with a ghost of a smile dancing over his lips before he murmurs, “I never knew Game of Thrones sex scenes were quite so realistic, but I’m not complaining.”

“God, Tsukki you’re so annoying,” you say trying to shove him off of you with a laugh, but he just holds you tighter.

“I like it better when you call me Kei.”

Tags

@ceo-of-daichi @roandtheroses @sugawara-sweetheart @nonexistent-social-life

#tsukishima #kei tsukishima #tsuki #tsukishima x you #tsukishima x reader #tsukki #tsukki x reader #tsukki x you #tsukki x y/n #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu smut #kristen writes #soft tsukki #h*rny hours

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saiki-kusuhoee · 3 years

Text

His Model‐ Chapter I

We had talked about Yandere Midoriya before, right? I’ve got a whole plot now, and I’m splitting it into 3 chapters. Also, new theme, new me! Enjoy!

Warnings: yandere themes, stalking, Deku is a fucking creep

Powerlessness.

Izuku Midoriya was not a stranger to the feeling of complete powerlessness. However, his quirkless days were far behind him, and now, he was the brightest symbol of heroism, peace and optimism. The dark, dim days of powerlessness that were lined with the silver of his ‘friendship’ with Bakugou, the love and care from his mother, and at the end, the support of his hero, All Might. Now, his whole life was booming, and blindingly, brilliantly bright. As a sidekick of Lemillion’s, his pay was tremendous, allowing him a lush lifestyle. He had friends for days, and could have any girl of his choosing. He was happy. He wasn’t powerless anymore. All thanks to his idol showing him mercy. Showing him a bright future, a way to fulfill his dreams.

Potential.

You had a lot of potential. But you were at a dead end office job, with a monotonous routine. You were beautiful. You could be a model, an actress, anything. Was your potential wasted? Was it too late for you to have a career that wasn't filing paperwork and filling out forms? You looked so bored. You looked so sad. Living in Japan is expensive, and your job is barely enough. You’re lonely, too. You don’t believe in yourself, do you? You don’t believe in your potential, do you? You don’t think you’re as perfect, as golden as you are… do you?

You’re about to have no choice but accept it. He’ll make you accept it. You’ll accept his love too.

The sky was bright and the breeze was refreshing. Downtown’s skyscrapers were golden with the light of the blazing sun, ever burning in the sky. The numbered summer days would soon fade into grey skies, but then burst into the bright colors and rich, warm spices of autumn. Izuku would miss the summer, though. Each and every thing he saw on his patrol brought memories of you. He could enjoy his stroll; the villains must’ve put off their plans to enjoy this beautiful day, too. Everyone must be enjoying today. He hoped that you were having a good day. Standing on the corner of the sidewalk, he gazed diagonally towards the skyscraper you worked in. Golden light spilled onto the street, illuminating everything that it touched. Then you walked out. Izuku’s mouth was slightly agape as fans crowded around him, but he was focused on you. The sun brushed on your skin, tangled in your curls, your eyes brighter than usual thanks to the light. You were glowing. The shouts of fans, and the begging for autographs brought his eyes away from you. He greeted the crowd around him, shaking hands and taking pictures. He didn't get to see you board your bus. Or take a picture.

It would’ve been a beautiful picture, too.

Nighttime brought the promise of seeing you. You were on your balcony, with your elbows resting on the railing. You looked to the sky, the moon shining its heavenly light on your soft skin. Izuku would die to feel your skin, to feel you. Taking out his phone and zooming into you, he took a picture. You were so perfect. He couldn’t wait to get home and put this one in the scrapbook. Quickly taking note of the color of your silken pajamas, Izuku took off. At home, he printed the picture, gluing it to a piece of paper, writing the date, and finally putting it into the book.

The book was thick, filled with candid pictures of you. The cover was pastel yellow with star shaped rhinestones, and your name in calligraphic black font. Smoothing in the paper, Izuku smiled and sighed with contentment. He flipped to the page that held a clump of your hair that he took from one of your combs. He felt it and pressed his nose into it, inhaling deeply. Fuck, it smelled so good. He wanted nothing more than to hold you and smell the real thing.

Settling into bed, he held the pillow that had your smiling face printed on it. It was dressed in one of your shirts, and a pair of your panties adorned the bottom. It was lightly sprayed with the perfume that you had often purchased. Izuku ran his finger along your fabric jawline whispering to your picture.

“My beautiful girl… so perfect and sweet… I love you baby. I love you baby. I love you so so so so so SO much.”

He clutched the fake you close, shuddering as he inhaled your artificial scent. Izuku wanted the real thing, though. It wouldn’t be long until he finally had you.

It only took a week for the leaves to begin to turn from the lush chlorophyll infused greens to the bright golden yellow. The skies began to fluctuate between light blue and grey. Storefront windows carried more beiges, browns and oranges to match the seasonal mood. Restaurant chains and coffee shops alter their menus to include flavours like pumpkin spice, or cinnamon maple.

Izuku watched as the colours of your wardrobe were changed to fit in with the city’s vibe. Deep oranges were beautiful on you. He put buying warmer toned clothes for you on his to do list. He was sure to buy things that were picture perfect. They would make you his model. Then one day, you would model wedding dresses for him. Then maternity gowns. You two would have a perfect life together!

Izuku never let his dreams crash and burn, and this was no exception. He was going to have the real you. No matter what it took, no matter how much you ended up hating him, he would get what he deserved so very much after all his hard work.

#izuku midoria x reader #midoriya x reader #deku x reader #yandere deku #yandere midoriya #yandere izuku midoriya #yandere izuku #bnha x reader #I'm proud of myself. Like you have no clue how difficult it was to make the huge switch from doing no schoolwork or writing to buckling down #and getting my shit together.#I've been diagnosed with bipolar depression and #I am on medication. the future looks bright.

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aalissy · 3 years

Text

Tutoring

Eep sorry this is kinda late!! I was rewatching The Princess and the Frog hehe. I hope you enjoy this chapter <3. Also, have you guys seen Lies yet?!! That episode broke my heartttt. I feel soo bad for Kagami and Luka. The Ladynoir thooo this is their season isn’t it haha.

AO3

Marinette nibbled on her lower lip before hesitatingly pressing the button to ring Adrien’s doorbell. She finally found the time to take the Mandarin lessons he had promised to help her with in Shanghai. Of course, that didn’t help the thoughts of her and Adrien doing anything besides the tutoring they were meant to be doing. Shaking her head, Marinette closed her eyes tightly as she felt a light blush flood her cheeks.

Before her dreams could go any further, however, Nathalie’s voice cut into a daydream of Adrien slowly leaning across the table to kiss her. “Yes?”

“Oh, uh, uh,” she stuttered before rocking back and forth on her feet with a wide smile, “I-I’m here for um, Adrien. Uh, h-he was going to teach me Mandarin today.”

“One moment,” Nathalie said before the camera disappeared.

There was a small buzz before the mansion gates swung open. Blinking slightly, Marinette cautiously stepped through the gate, walking nervously up to the front door. Her arm raised to knock on the door when it flew open. Her mouth fell in surprise as she looked up at Nathalie.

Quickly, she lowered her arm and gave the woman a bright grin. “Hello!”

“Hello,” Nathalie nodded back at her before speaking decisively, “You are to be here for an hour and then Adrien will be heading to his fencing lesson. Is that alright?”

“O-of course!” Marinette shifted slightly on her feet. “I don’t want to take up any more time than necessary.”

Sucking in a deep breath of courage, she finally spotted Adrien over Nathalie’s shoulder. Instantly, she felt more relaxed as he gave her a bright grin and a friendly wave. Giving him a small, shy smile back, she stepped around Gabriel’s assistant and raced up to greet him.

“Marinette, you’re here,” Adrien’s grin got wider. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

“M-me too.” She ducked her head with a small blush. “I-I’m actually really excited to do this. I’ve always wanted to learn Mandarin.”

“And I can’t wait to help with that!” He nudged her shoulder slightly and her blush got darker. Looking away from her, Adrien turned to Nathalie who was still staring up at the two, and he then spoke again, “Don’t worry, Nathalie. I’ll make certain to keep an eye on the clock so we don’t go over schedule.”

Instead of responding, she simply gave a firm nod before immediately walking away, her heels clicking against the tiled floor. Marinette finally released a tense sigh, not noticing Adrien was bending down until he practically whispered in her ear, “She can be a little intimidating, huh?”

Marinette jumped, scrambling away and almost falling down the stairs before Adrien grabbed her arm and pulled her back towards him. Her hand fell against his chest as she stared up into his brilliant, worried green eyes. Feeling her cheeks flush a deep red, she pushed herself away slower this time, taking care to not fall down the stairs.

Nibbling on her lip, she murmured, “S-sorry.” Sucking in a deep breath, Marinette looked back up at him and answered his question, “B-but no, I don’t think she’s that intimidating. I’m just worried about taking up too much of your free time. I don’t want your lessons with me to be too much of a burden.”

Adrien looked at her with surprise before he let out a quiet chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Marinette, you could never be a burden. I offered to tutor you, remember? Besides, I’d rather be spending hours here with you then another second alone in this house.”

Marinette blinked a few times as her heart stuttered in her chest. Adrien wanted to spend hours with her?! How was she meant to function after that little tidbit of information? She opened her mouth but could barely release more than a small squeak before Adrien grabbed onto her hand, squeezing it lightly.

Tugging on it, he led her up to his bedroom with a gentle smile. “Now we should hurry up and go before we really lose track of time. We should probably get a little bit of studying in before my fencing lesson starts.”

Simply nodding, Marinette let him lead her towards the couch. Eventually, when she snapped back into the present-day, she turned to him with a grateful grin. “I-I almost forgot to thank you for this, Adrien. I just know this is gonna be really useful in the future.”

“No problem, Marinette.” He rubbed the back of his neck shyly before he turned to the sheets of paper that were lined up on his table. He carefully straightened them before handing her the first sheet. Adrien scooted closer to her, leaning over her shoulder as he pointed at some of the notes on the sheet, “So, these are some introduction words I figured we should start with. Some of these are probably words you already know, but they’re words you’ll use the most. I thought we’d work on pronunciation first and then I’ll teach you how to draw and read the symbols.”

Oh, this was such a bad idea. Why had she thought she could handle this?! Adrien’s shoulder was brushing against hers with every word he spoke. Struggling to pay attention to his words and not stare at him adoringly, Marinette nodded as he went over the words on the list.

Eventually, she straightened up with a slow blink when he said, “So, are you ready to try pronouncing some of them?”

Giving him a nervous smile, she attempted to do just that. She wasn’t even surprised when Adrien had to correct her on the first pronunciation, enunciating the words once again for her. The more that she listened to him, however, the easier it became to relax. At some point, Marinette barely even noticed his presence as she sunk into his words and teaching.

The minutes blended and the hour passed by in such a blur, that neither of the teenagers noticed when a knock sounded on the door. When Nathalie entered and cleared her throat, however, they sprang apart, their heads snapping to the assistant. She looked at Marinette before turning to stare at Adrien pointedly. “It’s time for your fencing lesson.”

“Oh, right,” he gasped, giving Marinette a sheepish smile, “Sorry, I lost track of time. I just had such a great time teaching you. You pick things up very quickly, Marinette.”

She flushed prettily but stood up when she heard Nathalie clear her throat again. Adrien stood up with her and she shot a glance at his assistant. Quickly, she embraced him before brushing a small kiss on his cheek. “Thank you so much again, Adrien. I think the only reason I learned so quickly was because you were my teacher.”

His shocked expression turned into a radiant smile as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Only because you were a fantastic student.”

“S-so, um, does next week work for you?” Marinette tapped her fingers together as she felt her face heat up.

“That sounds perfect, Marinette.” He grinned at her. Biting her lip shyly, she turned to begin walking out of his room and down the stairs when she heard him scramble after her. Blinking over at him, she paused where she stood when Adrien shouted, “Wait!”

Looking at her sheepishly, he nodded at the stairs. “I can walk you out since we’re both leaving now.”

“O-oh. That’d be great!”

Butterflies fluttering furiously in her stomach, Marinette wished that they had more time as they walked outside together. Giving him one last final wave, she watched him slide into his limo before walking outside the mansion’s gates. With a lovestruck sigh, she whispered, “I swear, I’m gonna marry that boy someday.” With those last, parting words, Marinette watched Adrien’s limo leave the mansion before she turned around to head back home, already looking forward to next week.

#adrinetteapril2021 #adrienetteapril2021 #adrinette #adrienette #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #ml #mlb #fic #fanfic

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leejungchans · 3 years

Text

— our first snow.

word count: 2.2k

pairing: dino (svt) x idol!oc (juliet)

warning(s): mentions of cyberbullying, allusions to stalking (dispatch yucky), mentions of the toxic/dark side of the kpop industry

genre: mostly fluff; slight angst (about idol life); crushes-to-lovers; idol au

notes: can be read as a standalone but you can refer to juliet’s masterlist for more info on her!! there may be some weather inaccuracies in this ahskhwjs please don’t be mad 😭 i live somewhere that never snows :(

summary: a confession is made during the first snowfall of 2021.

a/n: thank you to the anon who suggested a cute dino/juliet scenario 🥺💖 i hope you like this!!! thank you all for reading and have a nice day!!

Winter in Seoul is beautiful.

Even though she’s been living in Korea for six, almost seven years, Juliet thinks she can never get tired of seeing snow. Something about it is just so utterly magical and charming, like being in a Christmas card. Sure, it’s freezing and the snow sticks to everything—her hair, parka, boots, even her lashes, but it’s still one of her favourite things about living in Seoul as it’s something she wouldn’t be able to experience back home in Sydney.

Juliet still remembers the first time she saw snow the year she moved to Korea and how transfixed she had been. Upon learning about this, Yeri, the first friend she made at her former company, immediately dragged her out to the sidewalk where snow elegantly floated down from the sky and would eventually envelop Seoul in a pristine white blanket.

Though, she supposes that at the moment, they’re experiencing more of a snowstorm than a snowfall. By the time she gets back to the dorm, her black parka will probably turn white from all the snow sticking to it. She wonders what her members are doing, if they’re also enjoying the snow or staying inside to shield themselves from the biting cold.

A particularly strong gust of wind blows the hood of Juliet’s parka off her head, causing snow to immediately start landing on her newly-dyed purple hair. A gloved hand instantly reaches up to tug the hood snuggly back into place.

The female idol turns to her companion and smiles, even though he can only see her eyes due to the both of them wearing black masks, but she hopes he notices her eye-smile anyways. “Thanks, Channie.”

Juliet watches Chan’s eyes curve into crescents, and she knows he’s also grinning behind his mask. They’re always so sparkly, she thinks, like they hold the entire universe in them.

“C’mon,” he says softly, “the snow’s getting heavier, better get you home before we’re both stranded out here.” Juliet doesn’t tell him, but she wouldn’t exactly complain even if they do get stranded as along as she’s with him.

Here being a mostly empty street with only the dim lights from the street lamps and the occasional passerby to keep them company. The passerby’s don’t pay them any attention either as they walk briskly in an attempt to get out of the snowstorm as quickly as possible. They did pass a few small groups of people who came outside to enjoy the first snow of the year, but those people too occupied with making snowmen and taking photos to notice that they had crossed paths with two idols.

Despite the late hour, Juliet doesn’t want to go home. At least, not yet. She knows she should be back by now, a few award shows are scheduled for the end of the month, not to mention ATEEZ’s upcoming projects and appearances, so she needs all the sleep she can get to keep up with the practising. Chan definitely also needs the rest, yet he insists on walking her back to her dorm after their late night out before going back to his.

Juliet knows they’re both physically exhausted from their hectic lifestyles, but it is the unspoken knowledge that this is the only time of the day they have for themselves, truly just themselves, that make them want to stay out longer to retain a sense of normalcy. Over the years, she’s learnt to cherish the short-lived moments away from the cameras and prying eyes.

It’s knowing this that causes her to deliberately slow down her walking pace, because she wants just a little more time where she is simply Baek Minyoung instead of Juliet from ATEEZ, spending time with her friend Lee Chan and not Dino from SEVENTEEN.

Juliet has always believed that she is someone who warms up to people slowly with the exception of her members. But then Chan came into her life and effortlessly wove himself into the seams of her heart in a blink of an eye.

She thought they’d just be friends, she really did, until she found herself falling for the energetic boy with a heart of gold after a few secret outings much like this one. Before either of them knew it, their friendship had morphed into something more, though neither dared to make a move. After all, they know how fragile idol relationships can be in their industry—interfering companies, invasions of privacy, the slew of hateful comments that every idol couple cannot escape...

There were many nights where Juliet stayed up late thinking if it was easier to stay friends than to take the next step. Idol friendships, even opposite-sex ones, typically last longer and are met with less scrutiny, after all.

In those times, she also found herself wondering what her life would’ve been if she never came to Seoul and became an idol. She never thought that at one point in her life, getting a coffee or grabbing lunch with friends without having people shove their phones in your face would be a luxury, but here she is.

But if she never came to Seoul, she never would’ve met her members, the kind staff members who treat her like a younger sister or daughter, the amazing friends she met along the journey of becoming an idol...

She also wouldn’t have met Chan, so there’s that.

She once asked him during a phone call last year how he and his members cope with all the downsides that come with being an idol.

“It’s a learning process every day, I think,” he says thoughtfully. “But in general, I try to tell myself that even though bad things happen, there’s still a lot of good that outweighs the bad...I get to meet amazing people and do what I love for a living...These things are what I will cherish forever, the bad things won’t last forever, and it doesn’t do me any good to lose myself in them instead of the good.”

Juliet thinks about that a lot. Not that he has to know, or he’ll never let her live it down.

“—say about the first snow?”

Chan turns to face her with confusion written across his face from a lack of response. She blinks blankly at him. “What?”

He shoots her a look of mock exasperation. “Were you seriously not listening to anything I was saying?” he whines.

“Sorry, I spaced out!”

“I’m not going to be friends with you if you keep ignoring me like this!”

Before the boy has time to react, Juliet grabs a handful of snow from the ground and launches it at his face. He splutters for a moment, brushing off the flakes from his mask as she cackles, but her glee doesn’t last long when he reaches for a larger handful of snow.

Juliet shrieks and jogs away from Chan, which isn’t as easy as she thought given that her feet keep sinking into the layer of snow. “Wait, wait! Stop! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“You have to keep it down,” he laughs, gently tossing the snow back onto the ground, “we can’t be out here screaming and drawing Dispatch’s attention.” His tone is light and teasing, but the mention of the news—no, gossip—outlet makes her wrinkle her nose in distaste.

Though she can’t help but find it funny that if someone from Dispatch is actually currently following them—and she hopes they’re not because, hello? What happened to privacy and human decency?—all they’d get would be footage of them throwing snow at each other.

“You’re right,” Juliet says as they continue walking, “let’s not give them more business. What were you saying earlier, by the way?”

“I asked if you know what people here say about the first snow.”

Of course she does. Even if it has never been brought up in the dramas or movies she watched, her friends outside the industry have certainly gushed about the symbolism.

“No, not really,” she replies, feigning innocence. Playing dumb is fun, especially when you can also play the ‘foreigner card’ to back yourself up.

“It’s said that any lie you tell on the day of the first snowfall will be forgiven, and that any wish you make will be granted.”

Juliet frowns. “I thought that was for the first snowfall of the season, not the year. So technically, today’s not the first snow.”

Chan’s mouth drops open in a large ‘O’. “I thought you said you don’t know much about the first snow,” he accuses before shoving her lightly.

“Ah-ah-ah, you can’t be mad at me! You said any lie told today will be forgiven!”

“You’re the one who said today doesn’t count!”

“Okay,” Juliet relents, “this can be our thing, then. We can have two first snows each year.”

He laughs, and she can’t help but admire the sound of it. It’s just so contagious and never fails to put her in a good mood. “Deal.”

They keep walking until her building is in view. Admittedly, it’s a risky move to have him walk her all the way to the building’s entrance, as it’s known that people tend to wait outside idols’ dorms hoping to catch a glimpse of them, but Chan insisted that he didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of her walking alone in the dark at this hour.

“You know what else people say about the first snow?” Chan’s voice loses its usual playful edge. Instead, it sounds far softer and might’ve even betrayed a sense of nervousness.

Juliet doesn’t respond, but she turns to face his side profile to assure him that she’s listening. He keeps looking down at the ground, so she decides to silently admire the straight slope of his nose and the sharp angle of his jawline.

“People say that if you confess to someone during the first snow, you’ll stay together for a long time.”

“Is this your way of saying that you want to be with me for a long time?” she teases, but her grin drops when Chan looks at her with a solemn expression. “Oh. Oh. You’re being serious.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh at her wide eyes. “I know we’ve talked about this before, but what would you say if I told you I want to be with you? Officially, I mean.”

What would she say? A million thoughts are running through her mind, and she feels as though she’s been struck by lightning. How would the boys react? Their second year since debut was only a few months ago, would they think it’s too early? Would they be upset with her? Should she tell her company or let them find out? Would they tell her to break it off if they knew?

What if they break up? Will they still stay friends after that? Idol relationships can crumble easily given the nature of the industry and its habit of selling the fantasy of idols being ‘available’. Ten fingers wouldn’t be enough to count all the couples who broke up due to the pressures that come with this job—hectic schedules, obsessive fans, meddling companies, cyberbullying, the list can go on forever.

Is it worth it to take the risk when there seems to be a million reasons suggesting that it’d be better to stay friends?

But what does she want? Does she want to live basing every decision off of appeasing people who only know her from what they see on a screen?

Or does she want to live unapologetically with the people she loves and cares about, even if she has to risk her reputation and image simply for being happy?

Her answer couldn’t be clearer.

“I’d say that I’d like that a lot. Unless you’re secretly playing a prank on me.”

To say that Chan is flooded with relief would be a massive understatement. “You scared me!” he whines as he clutches his heart. “You weren’t saying anything for so long and I thought you were thinking about how to reject me!”

“I’m sorry,” Juliet giggles, eyes shining up at him. “Forgive me?”

A dramatic, reluctant sigh. “I guess I can make an exception for you,” he finally says.

Despite their masks hiding most of their faces, their eye-smiles tell the other just how happy they both are.

Deep down, Juliet knows that a simple snowfall cannot guarantee a fulfilling, long-lasting relationship. Perhaps a few years later, or even shorter if they’re unlucky, they may find themselves dealing with imminent heartbreak and separation.

But when her gloved hand—gloves courtesy of Chan because he somehow knew she’d forget her own— reaches for his, interlacing naturally as though they’ve done it a hundred times prior to today, she hopes that the universe will grant her silent wish that they can stay like this for a long, long time; that no matter how much they and their environments may change, they will still be able to find happiness and comfort within each other. She thinks it’ll come true.

After all, it is the first snow. Their first snow.

— bonus!!

a/n: eeeeeeeeppppp ngl this is,,,kinda cute if i do say so myself ;-; and yes this is also indulging my wish to have a cute boy (preferably park seonghwa or lee chan) confess to me on a snowy day ahdjhwjs 😔 again, thank you for reading and take care!!

feedback is always and highly appreciated!! whether it’s a reblog, a reply, or a short ask, it would mean the world to me 🥺💗 and remember that you are more than welcome to chat with me about anything in my asks!!

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rigmarolling · 4 years

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Historical Holiday Traditions We Really Need To Bring Back

Here comes Santa Claus, and also a bunch of annual holiday Things we do to ensure he commits a truly boggling act of breaking and entering and leaves goods underneath the large plant in the living room.

Because I’ve always got a hankerin’ for the days of yore, here are some historical holiday traditions we really need to bring back:

1. Everything that happened on Saturnalia

Saturnalia was the ancient Roman winter festival held on December 25th--which is why we celebrate Christmas on that day and not on the day historians speculate Jesus was actually born, which was probably in the spring.

Saturnalia was bonkers. As the name suggests, it celebrated the god Saturn, who represented wealth and liberty and generally having a great time.

Above: Their party is way cooler than yours could ever hope to be.

During Saturnalia, masters would serve their slaves, because it was the one day during the year when everybody agreed that freedom for all is great, actually, let’s just do that. Everyone wore a coned hat called the pilleus to denote that they were all bros and equal, and also to disguise the fact that they hadn’t brushed their hair after partying hard all week, probably.

Gambling was allowed on Saturnalia, so all of Rome basically turned into ancient Vegas, complete with Caesar’s Palace, except with the actual Caesar and his palace because he was, you know. Alive.

The most famous part (besides getting drunk off your rocker) was gift-giving--usually gag gifts. Historians have records of people giving each other some truly impressive white elephant gifts for Saturnalia, including: a parrot, balls, toothpicks, a pig, one single sausage, spoons, and deliberately awful books of poetry.

Above: Me, except all the time.

Partygoers also crowned a King of Saturnalia, which was a predecessor to the King of Fools popular in medieval festivals. The king was basically the head idiot who delivered absurd commands to everyone there, like, “Sing naked!” or “run around screaming for an hour,” or “slap your butt cheeks real hard in front of your crush; DO IT, Brutus.”

Oh, wait. Everyone was already doing all that. Hell yes.

(Quick clarification: early celebrations of Saturnalia did feature human sacrifice, so let’s just leave that bit out and instead wear the pointy hats and sing naked, okay? Io Saturnalia, everybody.)

2. Leaving out treats for Sleipnir in the hopes of avoiding Odin’s complete disregard for your property

The whole “leave out cookies and milk for Santa” thing comes from a much older tradition of trying to appease old guys with white beards. In Norse mythology, Odin, who was sort of the head god but preferred to be on a perpetual road trip instead, took an annual nighttime ride through the winter sky called the Wild Hunt.

Above: The holidays, now with 300% more heavy metal.

Variations of the Wild Hunt story exist in a bunch of European folklore--in Odin’s case, he usually brought along a bunch of supernatural buddies, like spirits and other gods and Valkyries and ghost dogs, who, the Vikings said, you could hear howling and barking as the group approached (GOOD DOGGOS).

That was the thing, though; you never actually saw Odin’s hunt--you only heard it. And hearing it did not spark the same sense of childish glee you felt when you thought you heard Santa’s sleigh bells approaching as a kid--instead, the Vikings said, you should be afraid. Be VERY afraid.

Because Odin could be kind of a dick.

Odin was also known as the Allfather, and like any father, he hated asking for directions. GPS who? I’m the Allfather, I’m riding the same way I always ride.

And that was pretty much it: “I took this road last year and I’m taking it again this year.”

“But,” someone would pipe up from the back, “there are houses on the road now--we’re gonna run right into them. We could just take a different path; there’s actually a detour off the--”

“Nope,” Odin would say. “They know the rules. My road, my hunt, my rules. We’re going this way.”

So if you were unlucky enough to have built your house along one of Odin’s favorite road trip sky-ways, he wouldn’t just plow right past you.

He would burn your entire house down--and your family along with it.

Kids playing in the yard? Torch ‘em; they should have known better. Grandma knitting while she waits for her gingerbread Einherjar to finish baking? Sucks to be her; my road, my rules, my beard, I’m the Allfather, bitch.

Above: Santa, but so much worse.

To be fair to Odin, he could be a cool guy sometimes. He just turned into any dad when he was on a road trip and wanted to MAKE GOOD TIME, DAMN IT, I AM NOT STOPPING; YOU SHOULD HAVE PEED BEFORE WE LEFT.

To ensure they didn’t incur Odin’s road trip wrath, the Vikings had a few ways of smoothing things over with Dad.

They would leave Odin offerings on the road, like pieces of steel (??? okay ???) or bread for his dogs, or food for his giant, eight-legged horse, Sleipnir, because the only true way to a man’s heart is through his pet.

People would generally leave veggies and oats and other horse-y things out for Sleipnir, whose eight legs made him the fastest flying horse in the world and also made him the only horse to ever win Asgard’s coveted tap dancing championship.

(Side note: EIGHT legs...EIGHT tiny reindeer...eh? Eh? See how we got here? Thanks, nightmare horse!)

Above: An excellent prancer AND dancer.

And if Odin was feeling particularly charitable and not in the mood for horrific acts of arson, children would also leave their shoes out for him--it was said that he’d put gifts in your boots to ring in a happy new year.

If all that didn’t work and the Vikings heard the hunt approaching, they would resort to throwing themselves on the ground and covering their heads while the massive party sped above them like a giant Halloween rager.

So this holiday season, leave your boots out for Odin and some carrots out for his giant spider horse or you and your entire family will die in a fiery inferno, the end.

3. Yule Logs

Speaking of Scandinavia, another Northern European winter solstice tradition was the yule log. Today, if you google “yule log,” something like this will pop up:

...which isn’t an actual log, but is instead log-shaped food that you shove into your mouth along with 500 other cakes at the same time because it’s CHRISTMAS, and I’m having ME TIME; so WHAT if I ate the whole jar of Nutella by myself, alone, in the dark at 3 am?

But that log cake is actually inspired by actual logs of yore that Celtic, Germanic, and Scandinavian peoples decorated with fragrant plants like holly, ivy, pinecones, and other Stuff That Smells Nice before tossing the log into the fire.

This served a few purposes:

It smelled nice, and Bath and Body Works scented candles hadn’t been invented yet.

It had religious and/or spiritual significance as a way to mark the winter solstice.

It was a symbolic way of ringing in the new year and kicking out the old.

Common belief held that the ashes of a yule log could ward off lightning strikes and bad energy.

Winter cold. Fire warm.

Everybody loves to watch things burn. (See: Odin.)

The yule log cakes we eat today got their start in 19th century Paris, when bakers thought it was a cute idea to resurrect an ancient pagan tradition in the form of a delicious dessert, and boy, howdy, were they right.

In any case, I’m 100% down with eating a chocolate yule log while burning an actual yule log in my backyard because everybody loves to watch things burn; winter cold, fire warm; and hnnnngggg pine tree smell hnnnnggg.

(Quick note: The word “yule” is the name of a traditional pagan winter festival, still celebrated culturally or religiously in modern pagan practice. It’s also another name for Odin. He had a bunch of other names, one of the most well-known being jólfaðr, which is Old Norse for “Yule father.” If you would like to royally piss him off, or if you are Loki, feel free to call him “Yule Daddy.”)

4. Upside down Christmas trees

I just found out that apparently, upside down Christmas trees are a hot new trend with HGTV types this year, so I guess this is one historical trend we did bring back, meaning it doesn’t really belong on this list, but I’m gonna talk about it, anyway.

Side note: Oh, my god, that BANNISTER. I NEED.

Historians aren’t actually sure where the inverted Christmas tree thing came from, but we know people were bringing home trees and then hanging them upside down in the living room as early as the 7th century. We have a couple theories as to why people turned trees on their heads:

Logistically, it’s way easier to hang a giant pine tree from your rafters upside down by its trunk and roots. You just hoist that baby up there, wind some rope around the rafter and the trunk, and boom. Start decorating.

A Christian tradition says that one day in the 7th century, a Benedictine monk named Saint Boniface stumbled across a group of pagans worshipping an oak tree. So, instead of minding his own damn business, he cut the tree down and replaced it with a fir tree. While the pagans were like, “Dude, what the hell?” Boniface used the triangular shape of the fir tree to explain the concept of the holy trinity to the pagans. Some versions have him planting it right-side up, others having him displaying a fir tree upside down. Either way, it’s still a triangle that’s a solid but ultimately very rude way of explaining God. Word’s still out on whether anyone was converted or just rightly pissed off that this random guy strolled into their place of worship, chopped down their sacred tree, and plopped HIS tree down instead. Please do not do that this holiday season.

Eastern Europeans lay claim to the upside-down tree phenomenon with a tradition called podłazniczek in Poland--people hung the tree from the ceiling and decorated it with fruits and nuts and seeds and ribbons and other festive doodads.

(God, who lives in these houses? Look at that. That’s like a swanky version of Gaston’s hunting lodge. Where do I get one? Which enchanted castle do I have to stumble into to chill out in a Christmas living room like that?)

Today, at least in the West, upside-down trees are making a comeback because...I don’t know. Chip and Joanna Gaines said so.

Some folks say it’s a surefire way to keep your cats from clawing their way through the tree and then puking up fir needles for weeks afterward, which checks out for me.

5. Incredibly weird Victorian Christmas cards

So back in the 19th century, the Christmas card industry was really getting fired up. Victorians loved their mail, let me tell you. They loved sending it. They loved getting it. They loved writing it. They loved opening it. They loved those sexy wax seals you use to keep all that sweet, sweet mail inside that sizzling envelope. (Those things are incredibly sexy. Have you ever made a wax seal? Oh, man, it’s hot.)

The problem, though, was that while the Victorians arguably helped standardize many of the holiday traditions we know and love today (Christmas trees, caroling, Dickens everything, spending too much money, etc.) back in 1800-whenever, a lot of that Christmas symbolism was, um...still under construction. No one had really agreed on which visual holiday cues worked and which...didn’t.

Meaning everyone just kind of made up their own holiday symbols. Which resulted in monstrous aberrations like this card:

What the hell is that? A beet? Is that a beet? Or a turnip? Why is it...oh, God, why does it have a man’s head? Why does the man beet have insect claws?

What is it that he’s holding? A cookie? Cardboard? A terra cotta planter?

And then there’s this one:

“A Merry Christmas to you,” it says, while depicting a brutal frog murder/mugging.

What are you trying to tell me? Are you threatening me with this card? Is that it? Is this a threat? How the hell am I supposed to interpret this? “Merry Christmas, hide your money or you’re dead, you stupid bitch.”

Also, why is the dead frog naked? Did the other frog steal his clothes after the murder? WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS?

Victorian holiday cards also doubled as early absurdist Internet memes, apparently, because how else do I explain this?

Is this some sort of tiny animal Santa? A mouse riding a lobster? Like, the mouse, I get. Mice are fine. Disney built an empire on a mouse. And look, he’s got a little list of things he’s presumably going to bring you: Peace, joy, health, happiness. (In French. Oh, wait, is that that Patton Oswalt rat?)

But a LOBSTER? What’s with the lobster? It’s basically a sea scorpion. Why in the name of all that is good and holy would you saddle up a LOBSTER? I hate it. I hate it so, so much. Just scurrying around the floor with more legs than are strictly necessary, smelling like the seafood section of Smith’s, snapping its giant claws.

This whole card is a health inspector’s worst nightmare. It really is.

I gotta say, though, I am a fan of this one:

Presumably, that polar bear is going in for a hug because nothing stamps out a polar bear’s innate desire to rip your face from your skull than candy canes and Coke and Christmas spirit.

This next one is actually fantastic, but for all the wrong reasons:

I know everyone overuses “same” these days but geez, LOOK at that kid. I can HEAR it. SAME.

If you’ve ever been in a shopping mall stuffed with kids, nothing sums it up better than this card. This is like the perverse version of those Anne Geddes portraits that were everywhere in the late 90s. “Make wee Jacob sit in the tea pot; everyone will--Jacob, STOP, look at Mommy; I said LOOK. AT. MOMMY--everyone will love it.”

Actually, you know what? Every other Christmas card is cancelled. This is the only card we will be using from now on. This is it.

Wait, no. We can also use this one:

Merry Christmas. Here’s a fuckin’...just a dead fuckin’ bird.

#victorian #listory #christmas #holidays #mythtory #norse mythology #odin

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shadow-assassin-blix · 3 years

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A Picture is a Poem Without Words

CHAPTER 11

A/N: Alright. Um. Let’s see. This is build up to a certain event that happens in season 2. The next chapter going to be angsty. Let’s see warnings: in the beginning there is allusions to smut, but then later on there is more detailed smut, blowjob, fingering, sex in general.

Everything taglist: @mikeisthricedeceased

Pacho taglist: @yungkvte

The party lasted several more hours, the partygoers in a state of drunken oblivion that allowed Pacho and Blix to slip away quietly. The two of them drove off to his home and made their way upstairs to his room.

The two of them stripped slowly, crawling onto the bed once they were both naked.

Pacho hovered over her, brushing her hair from her face staring at her with a smirk.

“What?” She asked him, her hand running over his chest softly.

“I just… can’t believe you threatened to cartel members… over me. What did I do to deserve you?” He questioned kissing her firmly.

She kissed him back, her hand cupping his face.

She pulled away briefly to state, “Just lucky I guess.”

She returned her lips to his and they kissed for several minutes. Pacho slowly working his way down her neck and chest. He pressed several kisses to her skin, nipping here and there. Her moans were breathy as he worked.

“Luck? Hm. Not usually a believer in luck,” He muttered against her skin.

She laughed softly at him, “Hm. Don’t know what else to tell you then.”

“Fate. We were destined to find one another,” He countered looking up at her.

“Not a believer in fate or destiny. Then again… never had a reason to believe in those things,” Blix whispered.

“Maybe I’ll make a believer out of you,” Pacho said with a grin. “But first… I’m going to make sure you see stars.”

Her giggles soon turned to moans as he did just that.

The next morning, when they woke up their limbs tangled up around each other, Blix looked at him fondly. She had missed him more than she would ever say. They both quietly stretched and took a shower together. When they got dressed, and made their way downstairs, they discovered quite the crowd sitting in the living room.

Pacho’s arm was draped around her shoulders as they stepped off the stairs.

“What are y’all doing here?” Blix asked the group of men before them.

“We are here to talk business and have lunch. The two of you are late. Then again… I am sure the both of you needed to catch up,” Gilberto answered, his voice teasing.

“Mmhmm. Imma need y’all to not act like schoolgirls just cause we had sex. Most of you are married. You in particular have 3 wives. Maybe focus on your sex lives, or…. As I hear… lack thereof,” She tossed back with a smirk.

“Knife to the heart. No mercy this one,” Gilberto said putting a hand on his heart in mock pain.

Pacho took a seat on the lone chair, pulling Blix into his lap as he does so. She adjusted herself as she sat and listened to them talk about their next phases. As they talked, Navegante walked in, holding the home phone.

“It’s for you,” He said handing it to her.

She stared at him confused, wondering who the hell would call her at Pacho’s house.

“Hello?” She answered taking it from him.

“Hello Miss Lage, this is Judy Moncada. Was wondering if I could steal a few minutes of your time?” Came a feminine voice.

“Go on,” Blix urged curiously.

“I was hoping to have a meeting with the Cali, wanting to form an alliance with them. I was told that you were the one to go to make this meet happen?” Judy explained.

“Hm. Wonder who told you that? Listen, Mrs. Moncada, I’m going to need more info than just wanting an alliance. The brothers are busy, and Pacho will only meet if it is worthwhile. Cocaine is all about the sales, no? Then sale this proposition to me,” Blix prompted ignoring the looks she was receiving from everyone around her.

“Escobar has killed my husband and brother. I want him dead just as much as they do. I am willing to do whatever it takes to get that done. How’s that?” Judy replied firmly.

Blix reached over to grab the calendar and looked it over.

“How does Wednesday, at 11am sound? You get one chance Mrs. Moncada, you better come with a damn good offer,” Blix offered. “Oh. And Mrs. Moncada… I am sorry for your loss.”

“Wednesday at 11 is fine,” Judy answered. “And…. Thank you. You are one of the few people to say such.”

They hung up, and Blix wrote the meeting into the calendar before setting it back on the table.

“Judy Moncada wishes to meet with you and is willing to do whatever it takes to get revenge on Escobar,” Blix informed them, handing the phone back to Navegante.

Diego popped up suddenly with her cell before anyone could say anything.

“Your phone has been going off,” Diego tells her.

She takes it from him and answered it as it began to ring again. She hears an automated voice tell her this was a collect call from a prison in Mexico.

She followed the prompts, standing up and walking away.

She moved outside as the phone picked up.

“Miss Lage. I hear you made quite the arrest. Wanted to give my congratulations,” Came Felix Gallardo’s voice.

“Mr. Gallardo. What a pleasant surprise? Thank you, I suppose. But… I get the feeling that you have more to talk about than my work,” She was suspicious.

“Hmm. No. No hidden motives, other than wanting to see if you’d take my call. Surprised I don’t hear Pacho huffing in the background,” He teased somewhat darkly.

“Mr. Gallardo, I thank you again for the congrats, but unless there is something of actual importance you wish to say to me, I’m hanging up,” She warned her thumb hovering over the end call button.

“Do let Amado and them know… their victory will be brief. Just because I’m in jail doesn’t mean I don’t have any power. Do tell them that, to watch their backs,” He said darkly.

“As for you Miss Lage, that dress you wore? Looked beautiful on you, shame that it had to get dirty chasing down König. Oh. Before I forget… a package should be arriving for you. I do hope you like it,” Felix told her hanging up.

She stared at her phone, walking back into the living room as Diego handed her a package. There was no return address on it. She quietly opened it to find a painting of a pomegranate in a somewhat gothic style.

She stared at it noticing a quote in Latin. It said, “If I cannot move Heaven, I shall raise Hell,” and was written above the fruit, near what appeared to be a gateway painted behind it.

She pulled out the note that was at the bottom of the box.

“The descent into Hell is easy, little shark. Don’t trip, for the monsters will descend upon you. You are becoming quite the Queen of Darkness; I am sad I will not get to witness your descent. – Felix”

She stared at the note, noticing her hand was shaking as she held it. It slipped from her fingers, and she stared blankly at the floor.

Pacho stepped over to her, looking concerned. He picked up the note, and took the artwork with firm hands, looking at them briefly. He tossed them onto the coffee table and stood in front of Blix, lifting her chin up.

“He was the one who called?” he waited for her nod, “Do not accept his calls anymore, okay?”

She simply nodded again, clearing her throat.

“What does this mean? Why is Gallardo sending you this?” Amado questioned looking at the items.

“That day… in the hotel, the art auction? I quoted Horace. He was a Roman poet. Satirist. He became friends with Virgil, another famous poet. The quotes… those are his. The Pomegranate is a symbol of Persephone, a goddess of spring who became the Queen of the Underworld when she married Hades,” She explained motioning to each piece of the message.

“It’s a warning. That even someone as pure Persephone could fall,” Pacho surmised.

Blix nodded at his guess.

“He wanted me tell you to watch your backs. That he still has power despite being in jail,” She informed Amado sitting back down.

Amado scoffed muttering under his breath. Blix stood up again and walked down to her library. She needed some space and a moment to breathe.

She took a seat at her window nook and sighed softly. She was left alone for a good hour, when Pacho stepped into check on her.

“Lunch is ready, would you like to eat in here, or would you be okay with eating with us? Amado and the others have already left. It’s just Gilberto, Miguel, and Chepe,” He quietly informed her.

She looked at him, slowly making her way to him.

“Would love it… if we could just have one day free of drama. Just one,” She pleaded as she wrapped her arms around him.

“I know. I’m sorry, my love,” Pacho whispered to her, returning her embrace.

The two of them walked out, toward the dining room, joining the others for lunch.

The rest of the day went by in a blur and soon enough it was the next day.

She woke up, simply throwing a robe on not wanting to get dressed yet. She wandered downstairs, vaguely aware that it was oddly quiet.

She made her way into the kitchen where Pacho was cooking.

“Well. This is quite the sight,” She commented as she stared at him.

He smirked up at her, motioning for her to sit, as he focused on the meal.

“Where is everyone? It’s oddly quiet,” She looked around noticing she couldn’t even see guards patrolling.

He simply presented breakfast to her, pancakes and bacon, simply telling her to eat.

She does as requested staring at him with suspicion. Once she had finished, he took the plate away, washing it off, and putting it in the dish-machine.

“Today, it is just going to be me and you. The guards are still here, just further away. I thought you and I could go for a drive around town. Spend time together,” Pacho finally spoke.

Blix smiled at that, nodding her head. She got up from her seat and went upstairs to get dressed. She got dressed in some jeans and a cute halter top, throwing on some flats. She wandered back downstairs once she was ready, meeting Pacho in the garage. He held open the door to his green Porsche, bowing dramatically.

Blix laughed at his bow, thanking him in an overly posh voice as she stepped in.

The two of them drove into town, just enjoying each other’s company. They stopped occasionally to go shop or explore an area. It was nice to just relax and talk about random things. He drove her to his old neighborhood, showed her where he and Alvaro grew up.

“Remind me one day, to take you to New York and meet my family there. I am sure you would enjoy it,” Blix said as she held his hand.

“Hm. May have to take you up on that. So, what would you like to do now?” He asked her as they continued driving around.

She bit her lip as a thought came to mind.

“… How long do we have the house to ourselves?” She asked with a flirty smile.

“All day,” He replied simply with a smirk.

She leaned over resting her chin on his shoulder, kissing him randomly. Her hand slid over onto his thigh, squeezing it briefly. He sucked in a breath as her hand moved over to the growing bulge in his pants, rubbing it firmly.

“Darling…” He breathed, his hands clenching on the steering wheel.

“Yes, dear? Something the matter?” She said coyly as her hand continued their ministrations.

He pulled her hand away, holding it tightly in his, “You’re going to make me crash.”

Blix gave him a Cheshire-like grin and simply held his hand.

They drove home and made their way upstairs to his room. She made him sit down and straddled his hips. The both of them had long kicked off their shoes. She undid his pants, and he helped her by shoving them and his boxers off. She slid to her knees, positioning herself in between his legs.

She ran her hands her up and down his length, enjoying the soft breathy moans that were escaping him. She leaned forward, running her tongue over the tip, before slowly taking him into her mouth. She took as much as she could tolerate into her mouth, her hands taking care of the rest.

She bobbed her head up and down, moving slowly and purposefully at first, before picking up speed which caused several groans and grunts to escape Pacho lips. Sounds that she absolutely loved to hear.

Pacho at some point stopped her, gently motioning for her to pull away. He kissed her deeply, leaning down to her as he unbuttoned his shirt. She slipped out of her jeans, breaking the kiss for a second to also toss her shirt off, as he dragged her back onto the bed.

Her bra flew off at some point, and Pacho ripped her underwear off without care. Blix was lying on her back, as Pacho moved down to between her legs, and return the favor. His fingers dipped in and out, teasingly. He began to firmly thrust them inside her, while his thumb brushed over her clit firmly.

His mouth moved to replace his thumb, his tongue lavishing it sweetly. She could feel the pleasure building up swiftly and just before she could come, he pulled away. She whined at that, glaring down at him. He kissed his way back up to her lips, wrapping her legs around his waist as he lined himself up and slid in.

She moaned at the fullness she felt as he seated himself deeply. She rocked her hips, wanting him to move.

“Impatient, are we? Perhaps I should teach you some better manners? Only good girls get what they want,” Pacho teased, still not moving.

“Pacho. Move, please,” She pleaded softly with an exaggerated pout.

He chuckled at that, “Well. Since you asked so nicely.”

He began thrusting, long and powerful movements that led to short fast paced ones. It didn’t quite matter the speed at that point, the both of them were so turned on, that neither of them were going to last very long.

They reached their peaks in no time flat and collapsed in each other’s arms. Pacho began to pull out, when Blix stopped him.

She quietly told him to just stay, and he does so, resting his weight against her body softly.

He gently brushed her hair out of her face, pressing kisses randomly to her cheeks.

“How are you feeling my love?” He gently asked kissing her chin.

“Quite well. Today was very nice, thank you,” She tells him sweetly.

“Hm. It’s not over just yet, I have a lovely dinner planned for us this evening. The chefs are working on it as we speak. I plan to woo you,” Pacho said with a smile. “In fact, I think we should go take a bath.”

Pacho pulled away from her slowly, pulling her along with him, to his large jacuzzi-like bathtub. He turned the water on and threw some bath salts and threw in some bubble bath mix. When the water was a decent level, the both of them stepped in; Blix settled with her back against his chest, resting between his legs.

They turned the water off eventually, just relaxing. Pacho peppered her neck in kisses and bites as they sat.

“So… what’s on the agenda for tomorrow?” She eventually asked, turning her head to look at him.

“Mh. Not much, I have to go check on some locations. Make sure security is running properly. Would you like to join me?” He offered her.

“If you are comfortable with it, sure. Apparently, I am the go between,” Blix said with a snicker.

Pacho chuckled as well, kissing her cheek.

“Wouldn’t have offered it if I wasn’t comfortable with it. Diego will be with us,” Pacho informed her.

Blix nodded, yawning as she was hit with a wave of exhaustion.

“Hm. Should get out soon, dinner may be ready by now. Don’t want you falling asleep at the table,” Pacho teased.

The two of them stepped out, rinsing off before they threw on some underwear and robes. They didn’t feel the need to get too dressed up, since it was going to just be the two of them. They ate and quietly talked about nothing.

Once they had finished, they stepped out on to the covered patio, sitting outside to listen to the soft sounds of the rain.

“Did you ever figure out how your father was able to get pass security?” She asked wanting to know.

“Paid off one of the security guards to create a distraction somewhere on the grounds. That guard has since… been disposed of. No more troubles on that end,” Pacho assured her, holding her hand in his.

She nodded her head, leaning against him.

She tiredly tells him, “Haven’t gotten to tell you but uh… I got promoted.”

He turned and looked at her with surprise, a proud smile growing on his face.

“Well. Actually, I was offered any office in the world… but… I decided to stay here. So, I was promoted to be the new lead supervisor here in Colombia,” She explained further.

“Any office in the world? And you chose to stay here? Why’s that?” He questioned curiously.

“Hmm. Don’t know… Could be there’s this really hot guy I’m seeing?” She said teasingly.

“Oh? Really? Do I know this guy?” He asked joining her little joke.

“Think so. Brown hair and eyes, a face so pretty I want to punch it every now and again because of it, a lovely smile that he doesn’t show very often. He tends to be a bit overprotective, but I still love him. Sound familiar?” She listed with a smile.

“Mmhmm. Indeed. Sounds like a pretty good reason to stay,” Pacho replied kissing her cheek.

“That and I quite like Cali. Didn’t think I would when I came here but it’s grown on me,” Blix revealed thinking back to when she first came here.

Pacho raised an eyebrow curiously, motioning for her to elaborate.

“I was previously located in Greece and I loved it there. Thought about actually taking a permanent position there but there was greater need here in Colombia. So, I followed orders as a dutiful agent would. I hated everything. The heat, the humidity, the bugs. Working with men who thought I was a damsel in distress 24/7. It was awful,” She recalled scrunching her nose a bit.

“What wound up changing your mind?” Pacho inquired staring at her incredulously.

“Honestly? Horacio. Granted, he too was a bit reserved about me coming onboard here. He eventually realized that I could hold my own and became a bit like an older brother to me,” She explained softly. “I had a really bad habit in working so much that I would forget to eat, and he noticed that. Would check in on me and if I couldn’t recall when I ate last, he made me stop working immediately and go get food.”

Pacho nodded in understanding, “So, he was the first one to sort of welcome you to the country and made it more bearable?”

Blix nodded in response, “Yeah. He would invite me over to his home and have dinner with his family. He treated me like family and made my first year here more tolerable.”

“Which is why you got so upset when I suggested you two were together when we had that first lunch together that day. I see my mistake,” He said with a nod as he thought back to the second time they met.

She chuckled at that with a firm nod.

As the rain began to pick up, they made their way back inside and upstairs, back to bed. Blix felt a dull pain in her shoulder that was slowly building. She moved her arm back and forth, trying to work out the stiffness that was forming. Pacho motioned for her to lay down on the bed, on her stomach.

She shrugged off the robe, doing as requested, tucking her arms under the pillow. She felt him sidle up next to her on the bed, and felt his hands slowly run over her back. His hands began to massage her back, working out the knots he found. She groaned every time he worked on a spot that was particularly tight.

The impromptu massage was so relaxing that she wound up falling asleep. Pacho finished, smiling at the soft snores he could hear coming from her. He made a few phone calls to make sure everything was good to go for tomorrow’s meeting before lying back down next to Blix.

He laid on his side, admiring her, his fingertips running over the many scars he could see. He fell asleep, smiling briefly when he felt her move closer to him, seeking his warmth.

The next morning, the clouds had cleared away, showing a bright sunny day. She woke up to the sun on her face, and Pacho still asleep behind her. She sat up with ease, sighing quietly as she realized the massage had made sure she didn’t wake up tense.

She grabbed one of his shirts, throwing it on haphazardly as she got up and made her way to her bedroom to change. She threw on some dark wash jeans and a tank top. She stepped into some cowboy boots knowing they were going to meet at the ranch, and she had planned to ride Phobos while they spoke.

Despite having not talked to Pacho for a month, she still made trips out to the ranch to see Phobos. She always felt better after spending some time with him, whether it was going for rides or simply grooming him.

She walked downstairs, hearing movement and found Diego with a few of the guards talking quietly.

“Hello Diego. What’s happening?” Blix asked him, wondering why everyone was acting strangely.

“Escobar escaped prison last night and is apparently on a bit of rampage,” Diego informed her.

“Shit,” Blix said as she walked over to her bag with her phone.

She had a few missed calls, and as she answered them, she was given more details. DEA found out that Escobar had created a palace and had proof of it, but the ambassador wouldn’t do anything with it. So, they went to a local news station and gave them the info which led to public outrage. Which then led to an investigation at the prison that went awry, and Escobar escaped.

“Javi… You have the worst luck,” Blix said to him when he recounted everything to her on the phone.

“Yeah. I know. But the President is embarrassed and wants this fixed. There’s been talk that he may be bringing Carrillo back,” He said with a sigh.

“Good. He didn’t deserve to be shipped off to Spain anyway. It would be nice to see him again,” She said mostly to herself.

“Heh. I’ll keep ya update if they decide to bring him back,” He promised before hanging up.

She had wandered into the kitchen when she was making the calls, taking a few bites of an arepas filled with eggs. She munched on it as she returned the living room, smiling when she saw Pacho up and dressed for the day.

As she stood next to him, he stole a bite from her arepas causing her to gasp dramatically.

“How rude? Is mine,” She pouted as he tried to take another bite. “Diegoooo! Make him stoopp!”

Diego laughed at her plea, shaking his head.

She begrudgingly shared her food with him as they made their way to the cars. The trip to the ranch didn’t take long, and as Pacho got security set up for when the brothers arrived, Blix and Diego went over to the stalls.

Diego saddled up a horse as a stable hand brought Phobos out to her, ready to go. She gave him a couple of pets, cooing to him, before mounting him. Once Diego was ready to go, the two of them took a stroll around the property.

“So, what’s been happening since you decided to disappear on us?” Diego asked curiously.

Blix told him about her promotion and her decision to stay here. Diego raised an eyebrow at that.

“Hm. Staying here eh? You going to stick around with us then? Or you going to continue pretending you are a good girl?” He asked in a joking manner.

She snorted at that, “Yeah. My role has basically become a desk job. My second, Theo, he is taking over the active missions. I have no true need for my place now. Would it bother you if I wound up taking a more permanent residence here?”

“No, actually I wouldn’t mind it at all. Pacho tends to act more rationally when you are around. When I say we all tried for well over an hour to get him to have his hand properly looked at the party, I mean it. He wouldn’t listen to any of us,” Diego remarked.

“What exactly happened that led up to that point? He has yet to tell me,” Blix wanted to know.

Diego slowed his horse down to a stop, pausing as he took a deep breath.

“The older Salvador? The one whose hands you pinned down with a knife? Made several… comments about his sexuality…about me… and you… Usually he is able to ignore them but when the comments turned to you, he was not okay. He gripped his glass so hard that he shattered it trying to not cause a fight,” Diego told her with a wince.

“Hm. Note to self, maim him next time I see that worthless piece of shit,” Blix noted with a scowl.

Diego snickered at that, “So violent. I love it though. We should probably start heading back. I doubt their meeting will last too much longer.”

Blix nodded, they had been riding for about an hour at that point and it didn’t take them very long to return to the ranch. The two of them dismounted their horses and handed them off to a stable hand who was planning to give them a thorough grooming.

They rejoined Pacho, who was standing with the brothers and an older woman who she presumed was Judy Moncada.

“Hello, Mrs. Moncada. It is a pleasure to meet you,” She greeted her, holding her hand out to shake.

“Miss Lage, a pleasure to meet you as well. Thank you for this very beneficial introduction. I hope to see you at our next meeting. Word has it you can be quite ruthless,” Judy noted looking at her with a bit of scrutiny.

“Hm. Yes. But only when it comes to protecting what’s mine. Not sure I’d be much help in your one-woman war against Escobar,” Blix admitted looping her arms arounds both Pacho’s and Diego’s, proudly.

Judy nodded, “An honest woman. I like that. I simply hope Escobar doesn’t take anything from you like he has done me.”

Judy walked away at that, getting in her car driving off. Blix didn’t want to admit it…but that last statement left her with a feeling of dread. She knew it was just Judy speaking from her pain, but it came off as a warning in Blix’s mind. She mentally shook it off for now, trying to dismiss the anxious thoughts that swirled in her mind.

Pacho, Diego and Blix returned home where Blix received word that Carrillo was returning to Colombia, and that he’d be back by tomorrow afternoon.

While initially, she was thrilled at that, Judy’s words still circled in the back of her mind. Something was telling her… that something terrible was going to happen. She just wasn’t sure what.

Diego and Pacho both could tell something was bothering her and tried their best to distract her. It worked for a time but even later on as she laid in bed, the feeling of dread still loomed, and sleep was hard to come by. She hoped it was just her mind playing tricks on her, but only time would tell whether her worry was warranted or not.

#pacho herrera x oc #pacho herrera #narcos

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takingcourage · 4 years

Text

Foliage

Pairing: Liam x MC (Eliza)

Word Count: 1,375

Summary: Liam, Eliza, and Eleanor visit a favorite part of the palace grounds.

Note: This story is part of my October Fic Giveaway and was inspired by @needalittlerain‘s request for “Collecting pretty leaves for later” with Liam x MC. Thank you so much for the request! : ) I hope it’s okay that I decided to include Eleanor in this one as well.

If you would like to make a request, please follow this link for more details.

Eliza had never intended for this to become one of their traditions. As she considered the years she’d spent in Cordonia, she could skip over the memories of many events with ease. Balls had come and gone, festivals and state dinners had the habit of turning into monotony in her recollections. But this occasion was one she couldn’t help remembering: it grew more precious with every passing season.

As a wave of nostalgia threatened to carry her away from the present, she stretched her fingers to find Liam’s hand. His grip was warm and secure, and he took advantage of their closeness to drop a kiss at her crown.

“Look at that smile,” he prompted in a quiet tone, cautious not to disrupt their daughter’s lively pace several steps ahead.

Eliza’s breathy laugh mingled with the crisp Autumn air. Though it was just past midday, it was late enough into the year that she’d had to wrestle Eleanor into a jacket and boots before following her outside. Based on the glimpses of wrist that fell below the sleeves, it wouldn’t be long before they needed to unroll another inch from the cuffs.

Shaking her head, Eliza pulled her own blazer a little tighter across her growing belly. “You wouldn’t believe how many times she’s asked to come out here today. It was all I could do to convince her to wait until you could join us.”

“I’m honored.” He gave her fingers a light squeeze. “It’s one of my favorite places too -- especially with the two of you.”

Eliza returned his gesture with a quick pulse, then dropped his hand to catch up to their daughter.

Still several feet ahead, Eleanor came to an abrupt stop and bent as close as she could to the grass. Though the lowest limbs were still inches above her head, she cast a cautious eye toward the sky above. “Hello, tree! How are you?” she asked upon reaching its slender trunk.

Stifling a giggle into her shoulder, Eliza watched Liam cross to the child’s side. Methodically, he squatted as close to Eleanor as the branches would allow, stretching a hand to brush a pile of leaves away from the roots. “Your tree looks very healthy,” he spoke, eyes turning up toward the young girl’s.

“Uh-huh!” she agreed proudly, her smile earnest as she met her father’s gaze.

“Should we check on the others?”

Predictably, Eleanor agreed, though she was hesitant to stray too far from her own sapling. One finger extended, she pointed him to all of the trees she could remember. “Daddy’s tree. Uncle Leo’s tree. Grandpa’s tree.”

He walked to each of them in turn, checking their appearances before offering his assessment of their health. Of the four, Eleanor’s had undergone the most significant changes in the few years since its planting. Eliza’s throat thickened with the reminder of the tree’s symbolic purpose. If appearances were anything to go by, their daughter’s reign would be steady and sure -- a welcome change from the trials they had faced over the past several years.

Liam’s voice snapped her back from her wanderings. “You have an excellent memory, Ellie. Do you remember the day we planted your tree?”

Running up to his knees, Eleanor nodded, eyes wide before something in her father’s look made her question the claim. Small brow creasing, she shook her head instead.

“Shall I tell you?”

The shaking head corrected its initial course, pigtails swinging wildly as she resumed her nod with renewed vigor.

Liam lifted her in his arms to give a better view of the higher branches, pointing to the remaining leaves while he recounted the story close to her ear.

Eliza stayed a few steps behind, hesitant to disrupt their time together. Their summer had been draining in more ways than one, and while they’d intended to go along with Liam on his series of diplomatic visits, her morning sickness had cut many of the tours short. Now that things were more settled and they were in Cordonia for the foreseeable future, she hoped their schedule would revert back to something a little more normal as well.

By the time she reached them, Eleanor was back on the ground, holding tightly to the stem of a tiny yellowed leaf. “Can we put it in my book, mama?”

Eliza laid out her palm to take it for safekeeping. “Of course.”

“Thank you!”

“We’ll start drying it when we get home,” she assured. As Eleanor bounded away in search of more, Eliza tested the serrated edge with the tip of her finger. It was a daintier specimen than what she might have picked, her own attention having been drawn to several sturdier leaves littering the ground. Still, there was no denying the one her daughter had chosen would make a fine addition to their growing scrapbook.

As promised, they secured the leaf beneath two volumes of Cordonian history shortly after reaching the royal apartments. From previous experience, Eliza knew that they’d be checking the leaf’s progress frequently in the following days. The questions were likely to start as soon as Eleanor finished her afternoon nap.

Perhaps it was a good thing that her nanny would be the one who was there to answer them, Eliza considered ruefully.

There were only a few minutes before she and Liam needed to leave for their afternoon meetings. It was too early to go, but too late for her to start on correspondence or any other projects. Casting an eye over the living room, she smiled as her gaze landed on the slim book on the middle of their coffee table.

She’d just picked it up when Liam entered from the study. Wordless, he came to her side and looped an arm around her waist. His chin rested lightly on her shoulder, hair soft against the apple of her cheek.

Still standing, she thumbed through the album, pausing to reflect on each of its couple dozen pages. The first held a perfect little leaf she’d found on one of their walks through the orchards when Eleanor was still a baby. Sitting at the base of the sapling, there was no doubt which tree it had come from. When she’d decided to keep it, she’d expected it to be a small memento -- not the start of a custom that resumed with each trip they made back to the capital.

Most of the leaves were ones that Eleanor had chosen for herself, fragile souvenirs rescued from decay after falling to the ground. Some were green and hearty, others golden and paper-thin. All were reminders of the time they’d spent in the orchard. All were reminders of how much the tree -- and their daughter -- had grown in three short years.

“I can’t believe how quickly the time has gone,” Liam murmured against her throat.

“Sometimes I wish it would slow down, just a bit.”

“Not until the spring. I’m rather eager to meet this little one,” he admitted, cradling the distinctive swell beneath her blouse.

“So am I.” With a glance toward the clock, she closed the book and lowered it back to the table.

“But no matter how quickly these years pass, I’m grateful to spend them with you. So grateful, Eliza.”

Her mouth was opening to return the sentiment when a quiet knock sounded from the outer door of their quarters. “There’s the nanny.” The words weren’t quite a complaint, yet she couldn’t bring herself to feel happy about leaving this moment behind. “We should probably go.”

“She can wait a little longer,” Liam insisted, drawing her chin forward for an unhurried kiss. Eliza sighed against him, forgetting all else for the few blissful seconds his lips were on hers. “Now we can go,” he whispered when they parted, fingers lingering on her cheek.

Mouth still tingling with heat, Eliza straightened her clothes, retrieved her briefcase, and fell into step at her husband’s side.

Sometimes their lives were busier than she would have liked. On occasion, she found herself wishing that duties didn’t take up quite so much of their time. But beyond this meeting, and the next one, and the next, they had a lifetime full of traditions of their own making.

#playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #the royal romance #liam x mc #fic request #follower milestone

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rxsie-the-demon · 4 years

Text

Brooklyn Baby | JJ Maybank

SERIES MASTERLIST

A/N: heyo! so i haven’t written fanfic in FOREVER, and i never have on tumblr. so please be patient with me (haha). this is gonna be a series, basically everything that i want (dreamed?) about that happens in season 2 of outerbanks. i hope you enjoy!

chapter summary: Nikki Reddy is new to Outer Banks High School, aka ‘Kook Academy.’ After befriending Topper, Kelce, and Scarlet and getting a crash course on OBX culture, she meets the school outcast, Kiara Carrera

warning: swearing, mentions of drowning, shooting, death, smoking, etc. nothing super bad, just usual stuff from s1

word count: 2075

CHAPTER 1: Shades of Cool

I honestly had no idea what was going through my brother’s head when he decided to say, “Fuck it, let’s move to the Outer Banks.” In the middle of the school year. In the winter!

Like, he could’ve at LEAST waited ‘til the summer or spring. But nope, we’re going to the Graveyard of the Atlantic in fucking January.

JANUARY.

I can’t even wear cute sandals or shorts.

I sighed deeply and turned into the parking lot of Outer Banks High School, or as some kid I heard called it, Kook Academy. I have no idea what that was supposed to mean because no one at the school seemed crazy. But then again, this was my third day here. For all I know, these kids are batshit crazy.

I parked her white Lamborghini Aventador that I had gotten for my sixteenth birthday (just Sweet Sixteen things) and grabbed my pink Kanken backpack and flung it over my shoulder, brushing her shoulder lengthed hair out of my way. Stupid hair always getting in the way of everything. While I walked into the building, I pulled her schedule out of the pocket of the bag, not remembering where my AP US History class was.

“Nikki! Hi!” I heard a girl’s voice call out. Turning around, I was met with the energetic, and for a lack of a better word, preppy girl who was assigned to show me around the school two days ago. Scarlet, I remembered. The girl whose name matched her hair. Next to her, the tall, HOT, tan blonde friend wearing khakis and a sweater, and the other boy, also tall, equally hot, dark-skinned friend. Topper and Kelce, was it? I couldn’t remember. Or was it Topher, like Christopher? I knew a guy who went by Topher instead of Chris. He was a weird guy.

“Hey! Scarlet, right? And...Topper and Kelce?” I gave them a sheepish grin. “Sorry, I suck with names.”

“No, it’s all good, broski,” Topper smiled. “And you got them right if that makes it better.”

I sighed with relief. “Oh, good.”

“I LOVE your dress,” Scarlet cooed. I did too. A yellow plaid cami dress over a thin, white turtleneck sweater, complete with white converse and a simple silver necklace with an ‘Om’ symbol.

“Aw, thank you! I love your outfit, too! I could never rock a green tube top and jeans, you’re BLESSED.”

“We should start walking to class, guys,” Kelce interjected, “Otherwise we’re going to be late, and Miss Newbie here doesn’t need that on her third day of school.” Topper rolled his eyes and laughed.

“Facts, love. Let’s get a move on,”

As we turned to walk to class, we passed by this girl whose rather dull aura caught my attention. I only saw part of her face when we walked by her, but she had sunken eyes as if she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in who knows how long. Her frizzy brown hair was spilling out of the hood of her black sweatshirt, and her hands were stuffed in the pockets of her black sweatpants.

Honestly? I thought she looked like shit. But not in an insulting way, in an “Are you ok? Do you need a hug?” kind of way.

“Hey, Top,” I turned next to him to asked, “Who’s the girl in all black that looks like she’s gonna pass out?”

The three OBX OGs spun their heads around to catch a glimpse of who I was talking about, before letting out a laugh at her question. “Ah, that’s Kiara. She’s a freak.” Top responded, chuckling.

I smiled sarcastically, a little mad that they outright insulted someone like that, but couldn’t show it because, well, I had no other friends. “True, but uh, how so?”

“She’s friends with Pogues, that’s how.”

“...Pogues?”

“The poor kids on the island, from The Cut. They’re all freaks and whores, they run around, stealing stuff, trying to shoot people.” Scarlet chirped up, emphasizing the different words. I nodded slowly.

“Yeah! This one Pogue, John B, like, he stole my girlfriend, uh sorry, EX-girlfriend from me, and his buddy JJ tried to shoot me in the head!” Topper exclaimed. Nikki’s eyes went wide.

“Wait...hold up, wait, he- WHAT? WHY did he try to shoot you?”

“I got into a fight with John B.”

“OK BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN HE’S GONNA- WHAT?”

“OK OK, I may have stuck his head underwater for a bit. I wasn’t gonna KILL him, I was just messing around, you know?” Topper looked at Kelce and Scarlet, who agreed with him, “Gotta show those dirty Pogues their place.”

I laughed dryly. What the flying fuck?

We stepped inside the classroom and took our seats, with me right behind Scarlet, and Topper and Kelce on either side of her.

Scarlett spun around. “Bro, our teacher isn’t even here!” She rolled her eyes and pulled out her Puff Bar from her bar and took a hit. She looked over at me and held it out for me. I shook my head no and turned to Topper. “Wait, Topper, that ex-girlfriend. Does she go here?”

Kelce and Scarlet immediately looked over at Topper, who looked like I just ran over his cat.

“Oh I’m sorry,” I immediately apologized. “I shouldn’t have asked about-”

“No, no, it’s ok,” Top said awkwardly and coughed. He turned to face me with a sad smile. “Uh, remember how I mentioned she’d left me for some Pogue?”

“John something, yea?”

“Well, he killed her and himself, about six months ago.”

My jaw dropped. “What the fuck?! How are you so casual about- Shit I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, he shot the last sheriff, Sheriff Peterkins, who by all accounts was actually a sweetheart. Then he proceeds to convince Sarah, or maybe he blackmailed her, I don’t know, into riding his boat into a tropical depression. We found the wreckage of the boat a couple weeks later, but...their bodies were never found...”

“Holy fucking shit.”

“Yeah... That girl, Kiara, she was best friends with both John B and Sarah. John B was, by all accounts, trash, but he was still her friend, I guess.”

I nodded slowly, trying to process all the information Topper had just dumped onto me.

Despite my extremely wealthy upbringing, I was raised to not be classist. Or at least, I hope that’s how I turned out; Scarlet, Topper, and Kelce also don’t seem like the most honest people. But these...Pogues that they were talking about...don’t seem like the sweet people.

But something about that girl’s eyes...they seemed so sad. You don’t feel for someone like that unless they’re a good person. Right?

*****************************************************

Our teacher was droning off about...gosh who even fucking knows, I stopped paying attention the second he walked in.

I was on autopilot mode, taking down notes but not, like, actually paying attention. Instead, my mind was on these really cute boots I saw while online window shopping yesterday. I had bookmarked the link. Maybe I’d buy those?

“Nikhita!” My teacher called out. Hearing my first name, I snapped back to reality.

“Hi!” I smiled back. The class chuckled a bit.

Mr. Obi, a Nigerian man with the biggest glasses I’ve ever seen, rolled his eyes. “Hello. Did you hear what I said?”

“Not at all, sir, not at all.”

Topper and Scarlet were losing their minds; the former had to put his head down on his desk because he was laughing so hard.

He sighed and shoved his glasses up his nose. They slid down again. “I asked you what was the impact of the election of 1860?”

Shit shit shit shit shit

“Uh...wait, we want to war? Yea, that, like, started the Civil War.” I said, thankful I knew the answer. Mr. Obi was unimpressed.

“Mhm. Anyway, so...” and he continued to drone off.

Topper turned to me, smiling, and we both laughed.

As the lesson went on, I kept glancing at the clock. Ok, 45 minutes left, which means we’re halfway through class.

Mr. Obi kept going on and on about the Civil War, until, 15 minutes later, a little alarm went off on his phone. He turned and pressed the ‘Stop’ button.

“Right on time. Ok, so, I shortened today’s lesson because I wanted to talk about your project. Nikhita, you got here two days ago, the first day back from winter break, so you have no idea what I’m talking about, and I’m sure most of your classmates have forgotten. So I’ll refresh your memories: the second semester of U.S History is not going to the usual. You’re going to have a semester-long project that can be about anything. Literally anything, so long as it has something to do with either world history or current events. Yes, I know this is a United States history class, but we expanded this project to make it more interesting for you guys..”

Mr. Obi stopped for a second, looking at all of us. I nodded, partially because I felt bad because everyone was just giving him black stares, and because I found this project interesting.

“Now, in the past years, I left my classes to choose their partners or groups. But before the break, I’m sure you all remember the catastrophe that was your mini-project, yes?”

The class mumbled something incoherent, except for the boys in the back of the class who started cheering, which made our teacher smile.

“Well, because of that, I’ve decided to choose your partners for you. Well, more like the Pyramid of Doom.”

The Pyramid of Doom. This mini pyramid statue that has a little opening on the top, with all of our names in them.

Mr. Obi opened the Pyramid and began. I stayed quiet, listening to see who I was going to be paired with. Hopefully one of my three friends, or maybe one of the boys in the back. They’re cute.

When my name was called, I leaned forward to pay attention. The intensity, the suspense. Who was gonna be my partner?

Mr. Obi stuck his hand in the Pyramid and pulled out the next piece of paper. “Kiara Carrera.”

My eyes went wide.

******************************************************

“So, you excited to be partners with the freak for class,” Topper asked, taking a bite of his pasta. I laughed sarcastically.

Outer Banks High School has an A/B schedule, which means third block is two hours instead of 90 minutes, and everyone has a different lunch at a different time, depending on their class. On A days, I have lunch with Topper and some other kids. On B days, I’m by myself.

Today’s an A day.

“It’ll be fine. She doesn’t seem that bad.” I turned to my left to face him, popping a grape into my mouth. Yum. I love grapes.

“Yea, just wait ‘til you get to know her,” this boy across from us said. “She’s so weird. She hates being a Kook. Like, she never goes golfing.”

“Or shopping!” One girl piped up. “She just likes to sit at the beach and surf, and smoke weed and stuff.”

“Well, that sounds fun,” I shrugged. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love going to country clubs, and shopping, and going out to get breakfast, but I love chillin’ at the beach. Maybe she just has different interests?”

“Ok, that’s fine,” Topper stated, “but she’s friends with Pogues. And not just any Pogues - John B Routledge, JJ Maybank, and Pope Heyward.”

“Ok, but like, one of them’s dead. Look, I’m all for holding people accountable for their actions, but...bro, stop tryna cancel a dead dude,” I laughed. Topper punched my arm, and I winced jokingly.

He wrapped an arm around my waist, and I blushed a bit. Topper’s cute, definitely, and I like the attention, but I knew what was going on. Sarah Cameron, the dead girl, was this school’s Queen, with Topper as King. He’s looking for a replacement, not an actual girlfriend.

But...I liked the attention. I put my head on his shoulder.

“Hey, so, my friend Rafe’s 20th birthday party is this Friday. He’s a family friend and I would love it if you’d join me at the party.”

I turned to look at him, debating whether or not I wanted to go to some rando’s birthday party. But Topper knows him, and it seems like everyone else does, too.

“Sure,” I smiled. “Why not.

__________________________________

chapter two

#outerbank #outer banks #jj #jj maybank #john b #john b x sarah #obx kiara #pope #jj fluff #jj smut #jj angst #obx fic #obx

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darksiders-scenarios · 4 years

Note

May i perhaps ask for a scenario/perhaps a drabble in which the human gives Death flowers?

Aie, what mess have I written? Sorry, I’m still being ridiculously slow because of exams and work :( Since I worked on a few asks, I think it’s ok to open my ask box again though I’m still working on more. I hope everyone is safe and well.

----

'What if he's one of those yardstick types?’

‘Now you’re overthinking it.’

You kept overthinking it. ‘"Oh, you got me a gift! Let me measure theweight of your appreciation for my existence. Behold! A floppy stem, a symbolof your utter thoughtlessness. Gasp! A weed! A symbol of your unforgivingcarelessness. Guards! I found a-"'

'As poetic as your stream of consciousness is, howabout you stop assuming flapdoodle about my brother you don't know and justgive him the Creator-damned flowers.'

'I don't even know how to begin, how to approach him. Wh-What to, to say.'

'How about- Hey, you rotting carcass, listen to me or I’llharvest your bird.’

You stared at the horseman.

Fury shrugged. 'Always works for me.'

But the threat of disappointing loomed large as youlooked at the disarray of flower arrangement in your hand. A stem floppedmiserably to the ground. 'It's not easy,' you murmured.

‘Well of course it's not easy since you care so muchand love so deeply. Your problem stems from overgeneralising and catastrophising.Disaster won't strike, tragedy won't ensue. You've survived a whole damnapocalypse by Oblivion.’

You ducked your head.

‘What's more,’ Fury continued. ‘I believe what you’redoing is an honourable thing. This direct expression of gratitude to a valued companion.Words are the most powerful and simplest way to express gratitude yet you aregoing beyond that simplicity. You're choosing action over mere words. Andbelieve you me, more species could benefit from such trait. Humans areremarkable like that.’

You glanced up. ‘That… helps. Thanks Fury.’

'Anytime my little simian. I suppose you would need aflask of a sort for the posy. Strife says he's got one in his dubiouscollection.'

You almost forgot how to breathe. 'Why do I feel likeeveryone knows?'

'Because everyone knows.'

You thumped your face in your free hand, groaninghard. 'Great.'

'Indeed. Besides, who better knows his brother thanhis own sister?'

'His brothers?'

'Now your thinking is really flawed.'

'I can't be sure if you're courting me badly or thatyou've been spending too much time in the company of my wayward brother.'

Mortified and embarrassed, your sense of relief savagelycombusted and you wished the ground would swallow you up at once. 'You couldjust tell me that you don’t like it.’

Death glanced up quickly, as though taking note ofyour stunned expression for the first time. ‘Did I utter that out loud?’

You let your face answer for you.

‘I did, didn’t I?’ For a few heartbeats, both of youwere absolutely still. 'What is the occasion?' he tried awkwardly.

'That would've been a much painless way to start theconversation,' you mumbled unhappily, feeling deflated.

'I know I...' Death sighed, running his hand down hisface. ''This is completely unexpected, you see. I... It doesn't matter, itdoesn't excuse my outburst. I’m sorry.'

‘Answer me this then,’ you said. You hid the smilewhen Death stared at you expectantly. ‘Why Strife?’

‘Because I recognise his signature stench,’ he noddedat the crystal flask in your hands.

‘Adequate,’ you allowed. ‘So…. take two?’

The warmth in his eyes always did something to yourstomach. ‘What is the occasion?’ he asked again, comfortably this time.

‘There’s no occasion. I just wanted to give yousomething to express my appreciation for you. To say thank you.’

‘For what?’

You shrugged, looking away. ‘For everything you’vedone for me. Your support made me stronger, wiser. Thank you for always beingthere for me. For… for accepting me as family. I-’ you laughed, a nervoussound. ‘You can see that I didn’t prepare a speech but all I want to say isthat your friendship means the world to me. And I... am forever grateful toyou, Death.'

The birds chirped their evening songs and the breezewhistled through the trees. You can hear the water gurgle in a nearby stream.

'So you are bribing me.'

'Yes I-' You heart twisted viciously in your chest. Ittook a few moments to regain the will to speak again and when you spoke, yourvoice was barely audible. 'Is that... is that what you think?'

Death eyed the floral bouquet suspiciously. 'What elsecould it be? Here you stand, having just blatantly listed the qualities thatappeal to you. By giving me this "gift", you hope to reinforce those favourablequalities, do you not? So, bribery.'

'I… I see,' you relented heavily, heart plummeting toyour toes, crushed. 'Here I stand foolishly believing that we were longpast such... puerile presumptions of the other.'

'What a coincidence.'

You looked up sharply. Laughter danced in his eyes.Death barely evaded the kick to the shin and he fully broke into a laughing fitlike a child hearing the word "poop".

'You got me, you old git!' you hissed, nursing yourthrobbing knuckles after a successful blow to his arm.

'I know!' Death exclaimed cheerfully, utterlyunrepentant. 'I could see the anxiety rolling off you in waves.'

'Of course you would revel in that,' you groused,blinking a few stray tears from your eyelashes.

The laughter slowly faded, though his eyes stilltwinkled. Death smiled softly. 'I apologise. It was inappropriate conduct ofme. I truly appreciate the gesture. May I have my gift?'

Yet oddly, it was that inappropriate conduct that madeyou feel lighter, as though a heavy weight has been lifted off yourshoulders. You approached him, offering the bouquet. 'And I apologise for strikingyou.'

Death accepted the flowers, carefully gripping the crimsonholder, the flowers layered in silk ribbons. 'Nonsense. I deserved it and youknow it.'

He turned his gaze downward and you waited silently,pulse quickening. 'From your front yard?' he asked without looking up.

That obvious? 'Ye-Yes. The... best ones,' you added lamely. Damnit, you knew that you should have asked Muria to let you in her atrium!

Death didn't say anything as he stared at the flowers,his expression thoughtful. 'I see a mix of such seasonal foliage, the, ah,farmgirl-esque arrangement.’

The what? ‘Y-Yeah, that’s right,’ you said stupidly. Crap,is that a good thing?

'What do we have here?' he murmured, gently touchingan orange flower. ‘Genus Berberis. A symbol of bad temper.’

‘Precis-what!’

He carried on. 'The hellebore winter flower. Representingscandal.'

You looked scandalised. ‘Listen-‘

‘The Narcissus!’

‘I didn’t know you were versed in floriography. I feelbetrayed.’

‘The yellow Hyacinth. Jealous, child?’

‘At this moment, not really.’

'"Caution, danger," cries the Rhododendron!"'

‘I think you’re having waaay too much fun with this.’

‘A striped Carnation!’ Death gave his most dramaticgasp. ‘Rejection!’

‘I feel… that you’re being unfairly selective.’

‘I am,’ Death declared triumphantly. And you calledStrife wayward, you thought. ‘The best ones,’ Death parroted your words, theasshole.

You groaned. ‘If you don’t like it-‘

‘Hands off my posy.’

You quickly dropped your hands, unable to contain yourlaughter anymore. ‘You can be really silly, you know that.’

Death chuckled. ‘You understand that I am not likethis to anyone.’

You stopped laughing almost immediately, replayingthose words for the next minutes. ‘I’m honoured.’

You startled when Death suddenly placed a hand on topof your head, fingers reaching behind your ear. Your hand flew upautomatically, without thinking. The back of his hand was as always coarse andpowerful.

'I believe your trajectory is off,' Death said softlyafter a brief pause, gently directing your hand to the soft petal of the flowertucked behind your ear.

'No,' you blurted, mentally punching yourself. 'No, Imean-' you squeezed your eyes shut, willing to control your tongue. You exhaleddeeply. 'What flower is it?'

'Can you not smell it?' his voice was gravelly low toyour ears.

'All I know is that my hair smells the sweetest it hasin a long, long time.'

Death snorted. 'Now there's something we can bothagree on.'

‘So what is it?’

Your muscles turned rigid when his long finger tracedthe general area behind your ear, brushing against your fingers. 'Canterburybell.'

You swallowed, your gaze fixated on the green shardson his chest, gleaming bright emerald in the evening glow, throwing tiny pearls oflight on your clothes. ‘And… what does it symbolise?’

There was a softness in his amber gaze. ‘Gratitude.’

Time halted. The faint thrum of your pulse beat louderthan a storm. Your fingers curled around his larger ones and this time, hedidn’t move your hand. His eyes crinkled and you knew that behind his mask wasa broad smile. You smiled contently, gently closing your eyes and resting theside of your face against his chest, breathing in synchrony with him. At peace.At peace.

Your pulse picked up pace, beating much louder in yourears and faster, faster. That's funny, you're not feeling anxiou-

A moment later, Death tore away from you and leaptback as though scalded by a cauldron of lava. 'What in Oblio-'

The posy exploded in his face. The violent impactsending him toppling into the bushes. It was never your pulse.

'Death!' you leapt over the foliage of desecratedpetals as you ran to him. 'Death, what the hell happened?'

'I should've known,' Death hissed through clenchedteeth, pushing himself to his knees, dragging his weight from the bushes. 'Thestench. I should've known you were up to no good.'

'Death, your mask!'

'What the- my mask!'

Standing before you, battered in the aftermath of theposy outbreak, was a livid Death- with a cactus lodged to his face mask.

'Someone will perish today,' Death promised, low andthreatening, his voice somewhat stuffy.

You stopped a metre before Death, brows furrowing inbewilderment when a shadow was cast from the bushes, seemingly out of place. Itloomed in size until the saboteur revealed themself at last from theshrubbery, coming to stand behind Death.

Strife leant close, deliberately slowly till his lipswere close to his brother’s ear. And whispered.

'Roses are red,

Violets are blue.'

'Piss off, Strife.'

Strife didn’t piss off.

'He has many names,

But Prickface suits you.'

'I said, piss off!'

The air infused with Strife's gleeful clapping as he skippedaway from Death's gigantic spectral fists and dance-evading the wraths of the Masherof Karkinos, and a disorderly horde of noisy ghouls until they disappeared intothe horizon.

Somewhere in your house, Fury smirked.

That night, your bedroom door was kicked wide open.

'Welcome back to mysorry-didn't-realise-it-was-a-dungeon room. How can I he- Death! I thought itwas War! And what do you know? Your mask is fixed.'

'I had a spare. One must always be prepared, as youknow.'

You shuffled uncomfortably. ‘Listen, about before-‘

Death clapped his hands. ‘Put something warm. We’re goingon a night ride.’

You practically leapt from the bed.

52 notes · View notes

hopiewrites · 5 years

Text

Nobody - OHSHC

NOTE: big, big thank you to the person helping me write this fic, LT! i don’t think they have a tumblr so here is a link to their quotev!

pairing - host club x reader

ongoing series, chapter 3

word count - 4,180

chapters 1 & 2 up now!

-> back to masterlist

Forget-me-not Blue

Weeks had passed, and the daffodils began to bloom, welcoming spring into season that April.

(Y/N) was excited, even if things were barely starting to come to life. The early spring flowers had arrived, and that meant the butterflies and bees would start dancing around again, and the cherry blossoms would bloom, and everything would be alight with new life and begin the new year with vibrancy. She couldn't wait until she was able to walk through Ouran's gardens that would be full of roses and lavender and dandelions.

It seemed that the entire school shared her excitement, as the whole campus was vibrating with excitement and joy. The colors seemed brighter and the sky seemed clearer and the spring air was crisp and clean, brushing it's hands through the trees that were budding with new leaves and fruits.

All was well that day. (Y/N) got to spend time with her mother that morning before she had to run off to work, managed to remember all of her school supplies, and even got to finish her makeup on time; she was wearing one of her favorite outfits, a cherry wood brown turtleneck and a pleated plaid skirt, paired with the dirty vans she always wore.

She stayed late yesterday to make the food beforehand instead of going in early that morning, so she managed to get two extra hours of sleep, and felt relatively rested.

She decided that the day was good.

Everybody in homeroom was chatting amongst themselves, as usual, while cute drawings of different characters and flowers adorned the whiteboard with little phrases and words next to them. Her head was low as she entered, quietly making a beeline towards her usual desk and pulling out her notebook.

Something scrunched under her papers.

The girl moved her notebook, curious brows raised, and there, on her desk, sat a yellow sticky note, with a sun wearing sunglasses and a little daisy sitting around the neat, swirly handwriting that read;

Come to the club room after classes, We have planning to do~

Just when she thought she'd gotten away from them, they pulled her right back into their grubby hands.

She sighed, trying to hide the slight grin that made it's way to her face. She propped her head up on one hand, staring blankly at the whiteboard at the front of the room.

I wonder what's going on this time.

It wasn't long before everyone got settled and into their seats. Now, all she had to do, was wait.

- nobody -

Everyone is so lively today.

Even more so than usual, the host club's atmosphere was effervescent, seeming to bubble over with what she assumed was excitement – even the guests were basically dancing in their seats.

"So, Kyoya! When will the annual Spring Dance be held this year?"

"Yeah! Everybody has been talking about it already, we're all so excited!"

"Well, ladies, we plan to have it soon, in early May. We're actually having preparations being made at this moment."

"Oh, wow, really!? We have to start looking at gowns, then!"

"Yes, we're looking forward to it! I wonder what the theme will be this year."

Spring Dance?

"That, my dears, is a surprise. Just know that all the hosts have worked very hard to find only the best decorations and catering for our guests."

They all swooned at Kyoya's smooth cut words, alight with his usual false cheeriness. He smiled at his guests politely, listening to their excited rambling.

Huh. I should've figured they would have one. Just slipped my mind. Maybe that's why they wanted me up here, to help with preparations?

"Oh, (N/N)-chan!!! You look so pretty!"

Almost knocked back by Honey's embrace, she hid a giggle, letting him hug her – now that it's been nearly a month, the timid girl has gotten used to her elder's childish mannerisms.

"Hello, senpai. Um, thank you!"

He laughed cutely before letting her go. "So you got Tama-chan's note? I wasn't sure if you'd come visit us today."

"Yeah, I almost didn't see it actual-"

"Oh, Princess! Welcome!"

Yet again, she was scooped up into a pair of arms, but this time, she was twirled around and around and around, before finally her feet touched the ground once more, a pair of warm hands on her shoulders.

Her cheeks were pink from that welcome, and head spinning after that twirl; she still wasn't used to Tamaki's bear hugs. As nice as they were, they always made her chest flutter and twist, as if, suddenly, the only thing that was there was warmth, and a rosy cinnamon scent that she could lose herself in.

(Y/N) smiled.

"Hi, Tamaki-senpai."

"I'm glad you came today! We have many things to discuss, like the-"

"Spring Dance?"

"Oh! Yes. I'm guessing you've heard?"

His hands fell from her shoulders, as his head tilted like that of a puppy, blonde hair shining like gold under the florescent lights that hung in chandeliers from the ceiling high above.

"Well, just now I heard some of Kyoya's visitors talking about it- oh, I think you have people waiting, senpai."

She nodded her head towards the girls waiting patiently with smiles on their pretty faces. The taller nods. "Yeah, I'll tell you more about it later, okay? So don't leave!"

"Okay, don't worry! I'll be right here."

He smiled once again before greeting his guests and walking with them to a table.

She took it upon herself to sit, folded up in a sofa situated at the back of the expansive room, and plugged her earbuds in to block out the chatter that echoed. Plucking her journal out from her bag, she balanced it on her knee, continuing a sketch she'd been working on recently–a myosotis plant, more commonly known as forget-me-not's.

Small flowers, known for their symbolism of faithful love and reminiscent feelings; their color, known as "true blue," was the color of trust, loyalty and truth. She chose these flowers for an assignment in her art class, the project being on symbolism in everyday objects.

She was a bit of a nerd for those kinds of things.

From beside the focused girl peered a curious ginger over her shoulder. A pair of honey eyes roamed across the paper, watching as her hand moved and twitched, careful yet messy in a way he hadn't really seen before.

"What're you drawing, (Y/N)?"

Music drowned out his words, earbuds nestled safely in her ears as she just continued what she was doing, unbothered.

He decided to tuck his voice away for now, watching the pencil as it dragged across the paper, quietly. He moved closer, a sheepish smile playing on his lips as he crouched, propping his arm on the armrest of the chair, head leaning close to the oblivious girl's shoulder.

He'd seen those flowers before, overflowing in the pots that sit right outside his mansion's front doors, serving as a welcome whenever he arrived home. He never realized how pretty they were until that moment.

Soon enough she turned the page, and from the corner of his eye he saw a nonchalant smile pull on her cheeks - she wrote a message in her book.

How long have you been spying on me?

Kaoru chuckled, then pulled out an earbud of hers.

"About five minutes now, actually."

"Hm. You're such a stalker, you know that?"

Closing her book she turned towards the younger twin, headphone swinging and smacking Kaoru in the face as she moved; she held back an embarrassed laugh.

"Those are forget-me-not's, right?" His head tilted, lights reflecting in his eyes like constellations.

She lit up. "Yeah. I'm just doing rough sketches for a project I'm working on... I'm pretty excited to start painting it."

"That's right!" The girl jumped at his exclamation, dropping her journal with a thud, "We've never seen your paintings before. When will you show us your winning masterpiece, (Y/-"

"What's this?"

Her cheap journal was plucked from the floor by slim hands, mischievous eyes studying the contents of the page that had revealed itself from the prior fall.

"Wai-"

"Ooh, I never took you as the obsessive type, (Y/N)."

Kaoru stood abruptly from his crouch and walked over to where his twin was in front of the poor girl, lips falling open, just a bit, just enough to suck in a breath he didn't know he needed.

"And for Tamaki, no less!"

Imprinted on the thin pages of her grimoire, was an unfinished portrait of none other than Tamaki Suoh, eyes sleepy and hair a mess, but a smile as bright as the very sun. You could feel the warmth he radiated through the page.

What took Kaoru by surprise was how much detail was put into the whole thing, even if it was a bit sloppy. It looked like it held every color in the world, even though the only thing that was there was the dull, grey lead of the pencil and bits of eraser shavings caught here and there.

She jumped up and tried to snatch it out of the taunting male's hands, though he just held it over her head.

She felt like crying; nobody was supposed to see that.

"What are you all doing?"

None other than the king himself asked, taking long strides towards the twins. Hikaru couldn't get enough of this. For one reason or another, he felt acid deep down in his stomach that bit at him from the inside, but on his tongue was the sweet taste of hell's fire, and he would deal with the burning of his conscience later.

"Seems like you have another fan, boss! Look at this."

Though, the girl wouldn't give up that easily. She jumped up once again, eyes glaring holes through the auburn's head, and a shiver crawled up his spine. He almost considered giving it back. Almost.

Tamaki was there now, and it felt like everything was in slow motion for her. Yeah, maybe she was being dramatic, but she couldn't help it. That was private and special to her, not to mention how embarrassed she'd be if he saw it.

(Y/N) disregarded how she was now chest-to-chest with Hikaru Hitachiin, and how pink dusted his cheeks as his eyes slanted down at her own ones in a silent declaration of war. The tips of her toes kissed the marble of Ouran's floors as she leaned against the much, much taller male in effort to get back what was rightfully hers, but he only stretched his arm out further, completely ignoring everyone else's presence in the now emptying room.

In that moment, nothing mattered to either of them. There was nothing else but each other and the mutual feeling of a bloody red.

...Save for the other club members of course, who watched the whole ordeal with amusement.

Kyoya sipped on his earl grey. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say Hikaru is flirting, wouldn't you agree?"

Haruhi's hand clasped over her mouth in an effort not to laugh. She hummed in silent agreement. "Yeah, I'd definitely say so."

"(Y/N), you drew this...?"

It was those words that were the rain that washed the fire to ashes, though the biting heat lingered even when she pulled apart from Hikaru. His glare snapped to the wall as he avoided eye contact. Her skin was red with embarrassment and anger, blood boiling and burning her from the inside. The older twin only stood, arms crossed and eyebrows drawn together with an angry pout plastered on his rose petal lips.

Though, what she didn't know was that Hikaru was nauseous with the nasty aftertaste of guilt, pitchforks stabbing at his lungs, making it hard for him to do anything but clench his fists and bear it. He didn't care about how he made her feel. Why would he? She was just another one of Tamaki's stupid fangirls.

Right...?

He couldn't keep himself from glaring over at (Y/N) one last time.

- nobody -

Tamaki cleared his throat, clapping his hands together as all the hosts gathered and watched him.

"So, as many of you know, the annual spring dance is upon us, and we've already booked the grand hall for the ceremony."

(Y/N) listened curiously from her seat beside Mori, whom she felt safest by at the moment. He didn't ask questions; he didn't pry; he didn't do much of anything, really. His quiet presence was cooling against the fire raging red underneath her skin.

"I thought we should all gather to choose a theme. Last year's was royalty, and the decorations and dress code played off of that."

That's so like them. The girl grinned quietly to herself, finding their predictable nature entertaining. "Does anyone have any ideas?"

The girl hesitated, just for a moment, swallowing Hikaru's thorny glare like sour medicine.

"What about a vintage theme?" She spoke.

"Vintage theme...?" Tamaki questioned aloud, tilting his head slightly, just like she noticed he'd always do when thinking.

"Yeah. Like age old antiques, soft colors, lace, the like. Unless you've already done something like that, I mean.."

"No, no. Actually... That's a really good idea, (Y/N)," Kyoya flipped through his little black book, jotting down the girl's idea.

"Yeah. Sounds good."

(Y/N) shifted at the sudden voice beside her, quiet but not shy. Mori wasn't even looking at her, not sparing a single glance her way, his face bearing the same sea glass expression.

She took Mori's words to heart, those words he probably thought nothing much of. She then elaborated her thoughts, a little clearer, a little more confident.

"I think it would be really elegant, not to mention economical. We could maybe even visit a few antique shops for some of the decorations."

No one added anything in, silently willing her to continue.

"Soft colors, like cream and periwinkle and mauve would do. Maybe we can even make some kind of dress code."

Still, no one.

"...I don't know."

"That's a wonderful idea, (N/N)-chan!" Exclaimed Honey from his cozy seat on Mori's lap.

"Yeah, we've never done anything like that before. It could be really pretty," added Kaoru.

Kyoya chimed in, "Any other ideas?"

"Nope! I think this is what we're going for this year, my dear Kyoya!"

As the hosts scattered amongst themselves, Honey tucked his arms snugly around (Y/N)'s legs with a wide, sweet smile; too wide, too sweet. In the moment, though, the girl was caught up in catching butterflies in her stomach. They listened to me, she thought. Her hands subconsciously found their way around the short male's small frame, as they tended to these days.

"(N/N)-chan, do you wanna walk with us outside?"

A sheepish smile stretched her lips as she replied. "Can't, senpai. I have to prepare tomorrow's food."

"Oh, about that, (Y/N)."

Honey reluctantly loosened his hold and marched back to his tall companion. Kyoya stood at her side now, tucking his phone away safely into the pocket of his trousers.

She hummed, listening.

"We're not opening the club tomorrow, so you don't have to have anything ready. Just go home and get some rest."

(Y/N) turned her head to peer up at him. His eyes were unfocused, looking out at the blooming colors of spring outside the windows. She didn't understand what he was thinking or feeling, or if he was feeling anything at all for that matter.

In that moment, he reminded her of the darkness that separates the stars.

- nobody -

The walk home was full of life, unsurprisingly. Wildflowers and green grass lined the roads, honeybees buzzing happily as they kissed the flowers and danced with butterflies. There was still a few hours of the day left, judging by how the sun was strung in the sky, so instead she decided to walk to a local park. It was small and well-worn but very peaceful, with its rusty swings and small pond.

Ducks waddled around in and out of the water. Birds chirped back and forth in the few trees as a lady struggled to keep her small dog from chasing a poor squirrel scurrying around the base of an oak.

Settling on the swings, (Y/N) took a second to unwind. The wind was soft and carried the scent of wild roses as it soothed her skin. There were yellow daffodils happily swaying by the pond. Everything was okay in that moment.

In a swift movement the girl kicked off her shoes and hopped out of the swing, laughing at herself when she stumbled. The grass felt like silk on her callused feet as she stepped towards the large rose bush, crouching to smell its pink petals. Carefully, she plucked one, two, three, four roses and skipped away to gather a few daffodils, cattails, and dandelions.

For mom, when she gets home.

Right as she was about to steal a pinecone from its branch, her phone vibrated annoyingly in her pocket.

2 new messages from " the host club 👑✨💞"

Since when was I in a group chat??

Ignoring it, (Y/N) decided to check it out later. How did they even get her Instagram though? It didn't matter, she figured. She'd probably spent far too long at the park, anyway, if the creamy orange beginning to color the sky was any indication. It was time to head back home.

With all different kinds of plants gripped securely in her dirty hand, she retrieved her discarded shoes and gingerly walked back towards her neighborhood.

- nobody -

It wasn't until (Y/N) found herself sprawled across her bed and once more attempting to wrap-up her forget-me-not sketch that she remembered the notifications she had received from the host club prior.

The mixed bouquet of wild flowers she had managed to concoct was placed on her mother's nightstand, along with a note on which she had scrawled a short but sweet message the moment she arrived back home. Aside from that, the only things she had her mind set on were homework (regardless of how little she was assigned), dinner, and sleep. It's true, she was tired, a bit hungry as well, but she still chose to squeeze in some relaxing time to comfortably let her pencil dance across the designated page within her journal.

It almost amazed her how lost in thought she would find herself whenever she decided to let her creative side flow as freely as it did. It's as if she would switch over to autopilot and let nothing but her hand take control while her mind soared with an intoxicated sort of vigor as it explored every idea that subconsciously came to her head.

It was for this exact reason that it took her several moments to register the lit-up screen of her phone lying atop the cluster of unmade sheets just inches away.

Setting down her pencil, (Y/N) diverted her attention to the rectangular device and awkwardly shifted positions before picking it up and unlocking it. The number of messages from earlier had since multiplied, a prominent 61 plastered on the corner of the application.

haruhi.fuji: Well I know of a few thrift shops around near my apartment. You can find all kinds of hidden gems there.

haruhi.fuji: Don't know about antique stores though, but (Y/N)-chan might know of some.

tama_king: Thrift stores????

(58 more messages)

The corners of her lips upturned just enough for her to notice.

She opened the app and scrolled through the messages, skimming through notifications and following each member back. Well, accept for Hikaru, who hadn't even followed her in the first place. Hesitantly, (Y/N) typed out a message, then deleted it, then typed it out again, then deleted it. The girl sighed, chewing on her cheek, trying to decide what to say.

tama_king: Look (Y/N)s online!!

Well, leave it to Tamaki to point her out. Said girl settled for a simple greeting.

(username): hi everyone!

haruhi.fuji: (Y/N), we were just talking about what kind of decorations we should get for the spring dance.

(username): oh, well i figured we could just go looking through local shops to find authentic antique decor

haruhi.fuji: Like all of us out shopping together??

tama_king: That sounds like fun we should go see all the commoner shops together!

(Y/N) suddenly had regrets. All eight of them, six of which all likely hadn't ever even heard of a thrift store before, out and about? Even if she was starting to grow used to the lot of them, it was a whole other thing to be seen out in public with them. It wasn't that (Y/N) was embarrassed of them, but more so bothered by how much attention they seem to bring towards themselves. The socially awkward girl wasn't sure if she could handle that very well.

(username): i mean, sure??

haruhi.fuji: That sounds... ;;;

(username): yeah ik, migjt not be the best of ideas i've had huh

(username): *might

She quietly laughed to herself, trying to shake off the dread that was already piling on her shoulders.

tama_king: No, it sounds like a great idea!!

The "Oh, what have I done," slipped past her lips as she saw none other than Kyoya himself finalize the plans.

KyoyaOotori: I see you three have been planning an outing?

KyoyaOotori: And when are we all going to do this?

It was funny, because she could practically feel him shaking his head through the screen. Maybe the two of them were more alike than she had originally thought.

She decided then that she might as well go through with it.

(username): well, earlier you said i didn't have to prep for tomorrows guests, so i'm free tomorrow after school.

tama_king: The host club was planned to be closed tomorrow for preparations to be made for the dance. i'm sure our lovely guests wouldn't mind. so Kyoya, is tomorrow okay to go out shopping?

KyoyaOotori: I suppose that it would be a good learning experience to see what low-budget commoner living is like. So, yes, that sounds just fine. I'll make sure to let the others know.

It looked like all had been settled, so she switched the device back off and let it sit to the side. The sound of the door clicking shut and the A/C being tampered with alerted the young girl of her mother's arrival home, so she skipped into the doorway to greet her.

She looked tired, just as she always did, with the same empty smile and hollow eyes. (Y/N) hugged her and in a small voice, said hello.

"Heya, Pumpkin."

There was nothing else to be said as the woman kicked off her shoes and walked into her room, no doubtedly to sleep until she had to drag herself back out to work again. (Y/N) hoped she liked the flowers she had picked out for her.

Sometimes there is no worse feeling than guilt that will eat one out from the inside.

She felt as though the way that things were running in her house functioned like an unbalanced scale. Her mother always came home exhausted and worn-out as the result of working from dawn to dusk, and it hurt the young girl's heart to see her in such poor condition. It wasn't extremely often that she would even get the chance to say hello, and rarer still that she ever had the time to hold a good conversation.

They both loved each other more than life itself, and (Y/N) knew that better than anyone else, but with all the overbearing work her mother put up with, day and night, everything just seemed...

Unfair.

Bitter and unsavory thoughts aside, one glance at the clock on the microwave reminded her of the looming drowsiness she felt gradually washing over her. It had been a long day, and the next was certain to be even longer.

With this in mind, she experienced little to no hesitation before striding off towards her bathroom to ready herself for what she hoped to a good night's rest. Once she was curled up under the cotton sheets and had her stuffed animal of choice in a loving grip (not caring about how childish she may have seemed), the bluish light of her phone caught her attention as she slowly and reluctantly lifted up one eyelid.

Reaching for the device resting on her night stand, she opened both eyes; given how she hadn't really been exposed to the darkness of her room for a prolonged amount of time, it didn't take long to adjust to the screen's luminescent glow as she focused on the message displayed on her lock screen. A single notification was shown, and (Y/N) couldn't help but allow a small smile to make its way onto her face once she had processed what it read.

haruhi.fuji: Good luck tomorrow, (Y/N). Hope you'll be able to handle a few hours out with those goofballs.

#ohshc #ohshc x reader #tamaki suoh #tamaki x reader #kyoya ootori #kyoya x reader #haruhi fujioka #haruhi x reader #hitachiin brothers #kaoru hitachiin #hikaru hitachiin #hitachiin twins x reader #nobody - chapter 3 #hopiewrites #nobody

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katymacsupernatural · 5 years

Text

Demons and Spongecake

Dean Winchester x Reader

1500 Words

Written For: @spnfluffbingo2019, @spngenrebingo

Squares Filled: Game Show(Fluff), Case Fic(Genre)

Summary: Dean finds a hunt in England, near one of your favorite shows.

Warnings: None

You could hear Dean screaming your name before you stepped foot into the bunker. His voice was loud, full of excitement, and you wondered what could have possibly brought this on. “Coming!” You called out, your arms full of grocery bags, struggling to open the heavy iron door.

Dean met you on the other side, taking the bags from you, almost jumping up and down in excitement. “Sam found us a case!”

Raising an eyebrow, you continued down the staircase, knowing that Dean would continue to tell you about this case he was so excited about. He needed no encouragement. “It’s in England!”

That stopped you in your tracks. “England?”

He nodded, setting the bags down on the table before taking your shoulders and turning you to face him. “Y/N, you know that one baking show we’ve been watching?”

“The British Baking Show?”

“Yeah, that one!” He exclaimed. “Well there have been curious deaths surrounding it, and they’ve even considered shutting down the new season.”

Sitting on the edge of the table, your mind worked over the facts. “But Dean, what about the British Men of Letters? Why can’t they, or another hunter handle this one? That’s a long way to go, and…,”

“Tickets are bought, and everything is settled,” Sam announced, climbing the stairs, his bag already packed and placed on his shoulder. “Oh Y/N, perfect timing!”

“Wait,” you stuttered. “It’s all set up? But what about Dean’s fear of flying. And...and…,”

“All taken care of,” Sam answered smugly. “Dean’s got Dramamine, and you’ve got a spot as one of the contestants.”

You shook your head, not believing what you just heard. “I’m what?”

Dean patted your shoulder, picking up the duffle bags you hadn’t noticed. “Y/N, you’re a great baker! You’ll do great while Sam, Cas and I canvas the forest surrounding the area, along with the castle.”

13 hours later you were standing in London, turning in circles as you took everything in. Sam was trying to get the rental car while Dean tried to control his breathing. He had done great on the plane, cuddling next to you and sleeping most of the way, but the stress had taken a lot out of him.

“I’m driving,” he insisted, sliding in the left side of the car, grumbling when he realized the steering wheel was on the other side. You slid in back, while Sam and Dean changed places. The car was much shorter than Baby, both Sam and Dean’s heads almost touching the roof.

With Sam constantly reminding Dean which side of the road to drive on, Dean headed out of the crowded town, heading to Berkshire.

You watched out the window as picturesque scenery passed by your window. Green and so unlike Kansas, you couldn’t believe that you were visiting England. But your visit had you extremely nervous.

Sure, you enjoyed baking, but you had never considered yourself good enough to be on a show such as the Great British Baking Show. Just the thought of being in that tent with Paul and Pru critiquing your bakes had your stomach in knots.

“Human travel is tedious,” Cas muttered as he appeared in the seat next to you. “You have been traveling for hours.”

“Some of us aren’t born with wings,” Dean muttered. “But I would like to do something besides flying.”

Cas ignored Dean. “While you guys have been in air, I took the liberty of checking the area. Do we have any idea what we’re up against?”

Sam pulled out his notebook, shaking his head. “No idea. Three crew members have been found dead, with only this symbol carved into their wrist. No other injuries.”

“Looks demonic,” Cas said. “What are our plans?”

“We were able to get Y/N a spot on the show. Saying we were feds. She’ll be watching everyone in the tent, while we search the grounds. We only have this weekend to figure it out, otherwise, we’ll have to wait another week.”

You were going to be staying in the large manor house located behind the tent. Sam, Cas, and Dean would have a room in the local inn, only about five miles away. You had nervously gone through your notes, knowing you needed to have two recipes perfected and ready to go before tomorrow, along with the technical which you had no idea what it would be.

“Y/N, you okay?” Dean asked, coming around the car with your bag in his hand. “I know we just kind of threw you into this, but I know you’ll have no problem.”

“Dean, I’m not a baker!” You exclaimed. “I like dabbling in it, but these people are talented, and have time to practice.”

He took your shoulders in his hands. “Relax and have fun. You’re here because they think you’re undercover. Just enjoy the chance to be on your favorite show, and let us get this Monster out of the way.”

After a sleepless night, you made your way down the stairs, finding you weren’t the only one up and ready early in the morning. A buffet was set out off to the side, the other contestants munching on food. Taking a plate from the sideboard, you were piling bacon and eggs onto your plate when Dean waved at you from outside the window.

Sighing, you took a piece of bacon off the plate before setting it down. Leaving the rest of the contestants behind, you stepped out onto the nicely manicured lawn. “Dean, it was breakfast,” you complained, lifting your bacon to take a bite, but Dean took it from your hands.

“I know, and you can go back to it soon enough. But we know who the Demon is,” he explained, his mouth full of your bacon.

“Good. Did you take care of it?”

“Yep,” he answered proudly. “It was the Butler. Always the Butler,” he chuckled. “The Demon hated the show, and wanted to cause trouble.”

“So that’s it?” You asked, a little disappointed. “We came. We were here one night, and now we’re done. No competing, nothing.”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, you are a contestant. And it is the morning of the show. Why don’t you go ahead with it? For today at least.”

After Dean pushed you back to the manor, you quickly shoved some eggs into your mouth before it was time to go. Nerves had your palms sweating, your stomach twisting as you walked down the path. The top of the white tents was in the distance, and you rubbed your hands together nervously.

“Exciting, isn’t it?” One of the other contestants asked you. “I’ve been wanting to be on this show for so long, I can’t believe it’s happening!”

Before you could answer, you were pulled to the side by the producer. “Listen, I know that the problem has been solved. But we want you to follow through with today at least. Then, we’ll come up with an excuse as to why you can’t come back. Okay?”

You took your place behind one of those light teal covered kitchen stations, tying your apron around your waist. As you took a deep breath, you could see Sam, Dean, and Cas off to the side, peeking through one of the windows.

Paul and Pru gave the instructions, leaving the tent and your first three-hour task was started. Your nerves slipped away, and you began baking, humming to yourself.

You mixed and poured, getting your sponges into the oven. Your apron was a mess, but you were enjoying yourself more than you thought you would.

It wasn’t until you had thirty minutes left that you began to worry. You had always thought people should plan better, but now that you were in their position, you knew how hard it was to keep everything on time. But you finished your dessert just as they sounded the end of the challenge, and you brushed your hands off, pleased with how it had turned out.

Paul and Pru both enjoyed it, but you still left the tent before the technical, knowing they would come up with an excuse as to why you couldn’t move on. Dean came over, pulling you into his arms. “You did it!” He exclaimed. “My girl was a famous baker!”

“Not exactly famous,” you insisted. “I just got a little lucky.”

“But they seemed to like it,” Sam answered, patting you on the shoulder. “And we got the Demon taken care of, so I think everything’s good to go!”

“Let’s go home,” you mumbled against Dean’s suit coat. “I enjoy baking in my old kitchen, for my three judges.”

“Food still tastes like molecules,” Cas argued, and you just rolled your eyes. But you were telling the truth. While you loved this show, you knew it wasn’t exactly for you. Baking pies and fixing homestyle meals for you and your hunters was your type of baking.

Dean/Jensen Tags: @acortez82 @acreativelydifferentlove @adoptdontshoppets @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278 @bebravekeeponfighting @brindz30 @cap-just-said-language @colette2537 @deansgirl215 @its-not-a-tulpa @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @just-another-winchester @karouwinchester @keikoraventeller @krys198478 @librarygeekery @misspygmypie @mlovesstories @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @mrspeacem1nusone @nothinbuttrouble2 @ria132love @ruprecht0420 @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @squirrelnotsam @team-free-will-you-idjiot @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @torn-and-frayed @tricksterdean @wonderfulworldofwinchester @woodworthti666

Forever Tags: @aditimukul @alexwinchester23 @algud @amanda-teaches @andreaaalove @artisticpoet @atc74 @be-amaziing @camelotandastronauts @caswinchester2000 @chelsea072498 @closetspngirl @docharleythegeekqueen @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008 @esoltis280 @gh0stgurl @goldenolaf25 @growningupgeek @heyitscam99 @hobby27 @horsegirly99 @internationalmusicteacher @iwriteaboutdean @jayankles @jensen-gal @just-another-busyfangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @lifelovelaughangell123 @li-ssu @linki-locks11 @littleblue5mcdork @lowlyapprentice @maui137 @mogaruke @monkeymcpoopoo @musiclovinchic93 @nanie5 @percussiongirl2017 @plaid-lover-bay25 @roonyxx @ronja-uebrick @roxyspearing @samanthaharper2018 @samanddeanmyheroes @sandlee44 @shamelesslydean @simonsbluee @sillesworldofwriting @sgarrett49 @spnbaby-67 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spnwoman @superbadassnatural @thatcrazybookwormgeek @thewinchesterchronicles @vvinch3st3r @wecantgiggleitsafandom @whimsicalrobots @winchester-writes @zombiewerewolfqueen

#spnfluffbingo2019 #spngenrebingo #dean winchester x reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural reader insert #katy writes #spn fanfic #dean fanfic

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cupidmarwani-archive · 4 years

Text

Come Into the Water (15/15)

As the sun travels over the sea, Sarah and Ava share countless kisses and learn each other’s bodies, but as it begins to set, Sarah knows she must go home, and as such, Ava must return to her own along the far cliffside. She hikes back up, soaked in seawater, and gets into dry clothes before sitting on the cold floor in front of the last box. Still cellophane-taped together, coated in a thick layer of dust, sitting off to the side in a way which has allowed her to abandon it for far too long. She gets the sense that opening it would be a step forward, one she isn’t sure she’s prepared for. As much as she has grown and healed, it still feels unattainable. Overwhelming.

Nonetheless, she shoves her key into the gap where two cardboard flaps meet and begins to slice through the tape. Little by little, she breaks into her memory until the box falls open and she’s left staring into bubble wrap. She didn’t pack this box. She didn’t pack any of them. Everything she brought with her was carefully folded away by someone else’s hands, and as such, she isn’t sure which mementos have come with her. They could very well be reminders of what happened to her. Or they could be comforts from a home she has since overwritten with the family she’s built here.

Beneath the cushion, the first thing she lays eyes on is her graduation cap from when she did her pre-med. Sentimental, cheesy, but her own. She had been happy and excited to become a doctor and save lives before everything. Then her hands are of their own mind as she looks to see what else. Books she’s cherished. Spirals of dutiful notes from class. A trophy for winning an essay competition in grade school. Memories flood in, more bad than good, and she welcomes them with an ease she never thought she could feel about the past again. Her mind doesn’t stray to photographs on desks or coats that smell like mothballs. Instead, she takes a moment to be proud of herself for how far she got before everything. It means something, that survival. And even if she’s had to come away from it, it’s the sort of destiny that Maggie has mentioned over early morning breakfast, and the sort of good chance that Olivia mentions in prayer when she holds Sarah’s hand on rough afternoons.

She should have done this sooner, she thinks to herself as she carries knick-knacks to the kitchen to arrange on the counters void of coffee makers or fruit bowls. All this time and still, she doesn’t cook for herself because she always eats with Olivia and Maggie, and they always welcome her into their home with open arms and a sense of being loved unconditionally. It’s warm like a matronly embrace as she arranges photos and books on marble, and feels like this space belongs to her in a way it didn’t before. Everything fits neatly among the shells Ava gave her so long ago as well.

On the path to something worth living in, she even goes so far as to give her hair a complete run through with the brush, even if it winds up a little frizzy because she hasn’t felt like investing in a comb, and scrapes it into a ponytail before heading to Olivia and Maggie. Golden light beams onto the lawn through the open drapes, and when she reaches the front porch she can hear Noah shrieking in delight. When Sarah opens the door, it’s to Maggie teaching him how to knead dough on a plastic sheet on the living room floor as Olivia cuts cooked and seasoned chicken breast to place onto already mostly loaded plates. Although Sarah has just now shown up, there are three plates and Noah’s high chair set out and filled. She is wanted.

“Anything I can do to help?” she asks.

Olivia shakes her head, and gives her an endeared look. “You look happy.”

“I saw Ava today,” Sarah admits. “She’s having a rough time, but she does miss you all. And she does want to keep eating dinner together, if you’ll have her.”

And of course they will, which Olivia doesn’t hesitate to say, and she seems overjoyed again as they eat, as does Maggie. It feels like a celebration, almost, and yet Sarah still can’t let go of the necklace she saw in town which told of a fraught history. A creature as human and as ethereal as a mermaid passed, and the solution of the jewelers was to take her teeth and add them to a necklace which was supposed to symbolize peace. It’s inhumane. It lingers in the back of her mind in spite of the happy atmosphere and how she had felt unpacking her box of mementos, unwilling to be banished in order to save her an instance of joy she so desperately needs in a world such as this one.

After dinner, Sarah does the dishes. She thanks Olivia and Maggie for the meal. She hugs them goodbye, kisses the top of Noah’s head. She rolls up her pant legs and strips her feet bare. And again, she returns to the water and waits for Ava to come so she can touch her again and learn more of the contours of her body and the taste of her sighs and the life of each twitching sinuous muscle from a woman carved out of all the best things in the ocean.

Moonlight, obscured by clouds, does not approach her but she sees her way well enough with leftover street lamps and the way her body recognizes the contours of the tidepools. She sits, happy, and touches anemones with her icy fingertips while water flows past and warns her of an incoming high tide. Her own breath crystallizes in front of her.

She waits.

Waiting and alive, she keeps her eyes open until finally, finally, Ava rises and wraps slippery arms around her. Close. Sarah kisses her twice, and Ava swims her out of the shallows and to where fish weave in the currents and the makos like to take precedent. She’s nervous but refuses to voice it when she has such potential for a good night and she’s preoccupied with dreams of more dinners with Ava on the beach and the euphoria of physical connection with someone who really does love her completely. The water swims around them and, as the chill of the air bites Sarah’s face, grey sharp fins begin to cut through the surface once more. Ava sees them, but doesn’t tense like Sarah does.

Ava makes a series of clicks and sounds like the makos use to communicate with each other. Sarah wonders if it’s the same language or if Ava just learned. Heads break waves, the same three who she’s already met, the young one, and a handful of others who stay back.

“Are they going to hurt us?” she whispers.

The woman trills back at Ava, who smiles in relief. “Not tonight. They came to talk to you.”

“I don’t-”

“Little English,” the woman says. Her teeth catch the limited light and Ava holds Sarah just the smallest bit tighter. “You’re nice to us. Not like others.”

“Why would I be mean?”

One of the men, the one who looks like the jeweler’s granddaughter, tilts his head to the side. “They hurt my mother,” he explains. “Her…” He waves a scaly arm in front of his face. His mother’s teeth.

“I’m not like that. Most of us, we’re not like that.”

Ava nods beside her and Sarah can feel the brush of her lips against her temple. Tenderness, safety. A reminder she is not out here alone and in an emergency, she will have the chance to get safely back to the beach and up to her home. She shivers a little. It’s cold out here.

“How can I help you with that?” she asks. “To trust us again?”

“His mother’s body,” the woman answers, gesturing toward the man who spoke. “We want to properly send her off.”

“Is her body somewhere up there? Or just her teeth?”

The man points to his mouth again. Just her teeth. Sarah pictures the necklace in her mind and knows, it may not be easy to get, but it’s the right thing to do. And maybe Claire will understand that. Hopefully, she will understand that. If not, Sarah can just pull out her mother’s card and name prices until it’s high enough. Not only is it right, but it could help protect Ava from the times these mermaids have taken out their anger on her, the one who keeps bringing humans and food and light down to the shore where it’s impossible to ignore.

But it seems they’re just scared. Grieving and in pain, wishing for a proper send-off for a loved one. It’s a human thing to feel and want, and so Sarah makes a promise to bring everything back, and they all melt back into the darkness, leaving Sarah with her legs around Ava’s waist and a question of exactly how long these people have been hurting without being able to ask anyone for help.

She wants to just enjoy this moment, but it has been tainted. Sarah’s just tired and in need of rest, after the emotional toll of this and unpacking her mementos, as well as having been able to touch Ava and understand her love as something which is attraction as much as it is affection. And that’s okay, she decides as she skims her palms along the sculpted muscle of Ava’s back and shoulders. She’s allowed. She’s loved.

They continue to drift, until Sarah eventually falls asleep cradled in Ava’s arms, and wakes up on the shore, out of low tide’s reach, with Ava’s coat wrapped around her body.

#ciwfic #fic #mine #reesker

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hhemeraa-a · 4 years

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For the Holidays @etlascivus

On the first day, there will be a wreath upon his door, adorned with a frost that refuses to melt, sparkling with decorations of white orbs and bells. Upon it sits a pair of gloves folded atop each other. They are elegant, exquisite, and warm when pulled over the hand, crafted in leather and personalized with an M stitched in decadent font upon the back. A gift, for the first day.

Beneath the gloves there is a note: “on the first day of Christmas, let me gift to you: a pair of gloves to keep your hands warm when I cannot be there to hold them myself.”

The wreath is a pleasant delight, one that brings surprise and a faint smile. This season always did something to him, the lights, the sounds of feet crunching through thick snow, the tastes, the warmth. Green wreath was simplistic, but realistic, bringing with it a charm he didn’t know he’d like. It was a bit magical for the modern decorum of his apartment and though out of place, fit right in on the front of his bedroom door.

The gloves are handled with delicate care, admiring craftsmanship and looking about apartment as if he was being watched before slipping a single glove over fingers. Oh. These were nice. Shockingly nice and free hand immediately opens note. While the wording was a bit heavy handed, Myles was enamored by... all of it. Simple gesture struck true, one that showed the other knew of something he liked and cared enough to ensure that it was thought out, both in presentation and delivery.

There’s a small huff at knowing he’d have to get Ashmedai something in return. This was more than enough for mortal to consider his Christmas gift complete, unaware at what the next few days were about to bring....

On the second day, gift flickers on the table. Today’s present is a set of candles, three lit, three silent when they’re found, thick and standing tall, medium, short. The lit candles glow within their cores, and bare shadows on their walls, offering an enchanted, living scene of timeless forest and creatures of the wood. As before, a note sits not far off, “on the second day: Please enjoy their company, even in the absence of light.”

Evening tea is interrupted by the sudden appearance of candles on the table. At first, Myles isn’t sure what they are or if he was the one who bought them-- how long had they been sitting there? Where was his lighter-- but artificial lights dim, leaving nothing but the silent flickering candlelight and once again, man turns to boy and is charmed by dancing scenes of flora and fauna. Golden eyes relish in the display only briefly before finding note and smiling with a tinge of concern.

Christmas was a bit of a ways off and this was the second gift given... exactly how many more were going to come?

The third present is gifted in person. Confections, cookies, pastries, a plate’s worth of assorted treats, imperfect and, in some instances, improvised, as ingredients ran out, as sugars and spices grew thin. But, he tried. All without magic, he tried. And hopefully, they prove decent. He’ll make more, Asmodeus promises, he just needs to know what Myles likes best.

"This is too much,” Myles laughs at the overly extravagant display of desserts, none of which he turns away and waves his hand in dismissal at promise to make more considering his mouth was already full of what was provided. “Enough, enough. This is already more than enou-oh. I like this one.” Finger touches at something that tastes of cinnamon and ginger, but he can’t help but crack a smile and a laugh at being so distracted by something so small. Yet so grand.

The fourth day is one of merriment. Flurries of cold are soft upon the cheek and dust faces a rosy red with the brush of flakes. Of course, he takes responsibility for it. A favor called, the devil says. It isn’t, that much is clear in the angle of his smile. In truth, it’s but simple coincidence. Still, he would like to call it a gift. Fresh snow, on the fourth day, Merry Christmas to you.

Morning brings uncomfortable chill and bare feet padded over towards covered glass doors to balcony only to reveal the sheet of delicate white falling from the sky. Plans to accomplish, work to complete, all gone on mute in the silence of thick snow, and he doesn’t mind. Bemused smile itches at the edge of lips when he sees demon in the corner of his eye, taking responsibility for the weather and he shakes his head in a chilly amusement. Too cold to leave in these conditions, so back to gather blankets and settle in on the couch. Perhaps he’d even invite gift giver to join him in drinking something warm. A day to appreciate the ‘gift’ in the comfort of his home.

On the fifth day comes the gold. Asmodeus takes Myles’ hand when he’s allowed it, and upon each finger, lays a delicate kiss. It starts at the nail and climbs to the knuckle, where a golden ring forms upon each finger and thumb of the taken hand. Each is engraved with decadent features and mystical runes lost to time. Each is a charm, each bares it’s own grace. For luck, for health, for stability, longevity, and love. He gifts them all with a kiss, their magic warm upon Myles’ hand.

He gives his hand without thinking and is surprised at the sudden pressing of kisses at each knuckle. This one... he doesn’t like. The rings still hold some symbolism of a time now passed and pursed lips reveal only that he’s conflicted in his acceptance. They were moving forward after all, things were mending. Why open up old wounds when all gifts have so far been accepted in their rawest form, so why read into these anymore than he must?

Smile comes slowly, reserved, appreciative of the work put in and he looks at them all in comical fashion, “five is a bit much for me, don’t you think? Though one might be a bit presumptuous... thank you, Sidonai. I know you’ve been thinking of me and I... appreciate it, I do. But sometimes even too many gifts can be a bit uncomfortable.” Genuine smile, a softness he hasn’t shown Ashmedai in months, lights up his eyes and hands gently hold the sides of demon’s head so he can place a kiss on his temple. “Thank you. For everything.”

#etlascivus #you sent too many asks and I'm slow #so have on big post

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