#‘skies aren’t always blue when I think of you’

[pretty-emo-dad]

Cotton candy skies is unironically an elmax song I’m so sorry

#stranger things #max mayfield #el hopper #Jane hopper #eleven hopper #‘with my outstretched hands #wish I had a chance’ #this is sooooo s2 max holding out her hands to el only to get rejected coded #‘always in my mind I’m running out of time’ #do I even need to explain? #el was literally in her mind while she was running out of time #‘skies aren’t always blue when I think of you’ #ik the line is supposed to be sad but all I can think is mike = blue and ‘not hopper #not mike #You’ #‘were you even real’ #is so ‘did I make you?’ coded #THE DONG LITERALLY ENDS WITH #‘Im trapped in my own brain’ #It’s literally them #elmax

[dhampling]

the gate girl!dadstarion, 1.5k

He knows vaguely where the building is - he’s sure he’s passed it on one of his late night jaunts - but you’re coming along too. He knows he’s prepared for this moment, down to the most minute detail.  - astarion is a school-gate dilf on his first pick-up adventure with you. wc: 1.5k a/n: dadstarion fridays! wooooo! hope you enjoy - love, dal x

“Come on. We’ll be late.”

Your hand meets his with a toothy grin.

Astarion teeters a little.

He knows vaguely where the building is - he’s sure he’s passed it on one of his late night jaunts - but you’re coming along too. 

He knows he’s prepared for this moment, down to the most minute detail. 

Weeks spent designing the overcoat now covering his clothes - almost feltish in texture, a deep blue with gentle golden threading. Brass buttons. The smallest red ribbon detailing in the seams. The fit is immaculate, despite the fact he had to take his own measurements. The gloves match beautifully, just as he’d intended.

Shoes polished within an inch of their lives. Shirt and trousers pressed to perfection. Hair neatly coiffed with assistance from your gentle hands.

He grimaces.

“She’s going to think I’m weird.”

“Is this for her, or you?’

He takes a moment. Examines both sides of his glove with a flex. Sniffs pointedly. 

‘She’s not going to think you’re any weirder than she already does. She’s your little freak.” You grab at his sides playfully and he shimmies around your clutches, breaking into a timid laugh. 

The dark skies of Deepwinter are primed to allow Astarion his first ever school pick-up. 

He hasn’t slept, you know that. Bag in hand holding the gift he’d spent the short day hidden away working on. Your matching scarves around your necks. The biting chill beyond the threshold of your hearth.  

Eyes round in a contemplative lax as his hand rests atop the door handle. 

“I’m being stupid, aren’t I?”

Your eyes roll fondly into your skull.

“Yes. Now, get moving.” 

It takes you enclosing your hand in his for the door to open, immediately facing a brutal fracas of ice-cold winds lapping at your face. 

“How in any realm is a child expected to walk home in this? Ridiculous!” He shuffles from foot to foot as he chunters while you lock the door and pocket the key, looking up to the stars.

“With a coat. And gloves. And…’

You point to the bag in his hand as you interlink your arms.

‘A scarf.’

Astarion gives a small smile, pressing a chaste kiss to your head.

‘Come on, now. We might get there in time to see her out the door.”

-

The walk there isn’t the leisurely gander Astarion had dreamt of when he’d thought of this moment. 

In his head it was always late summer. Sunblushed.

And yet as you turn your head to him in your giddy half-canter; cheeks flush and breath clouding the space around your perfect head, he can’t believe he ever imagined it any other way.

The stars overhead are familiar as they always have been. The slightest slippy tread of frost on the cobble. Windows around you lit with candles and the loud taverns you pass en-route seem well hunkered-down.

He finds himself pulling you closer with each corner turned, stumbling to keep with your gait.

And then, there it is.

A huddle of parents waiting out in the cold, hands rubbing together; a low hum of chatter. School gates still closed. When you greet some of them with familiarity - one or two even getting a hug as you make your way to your preferred circle - and introduce him as your husband, his heart swells. 

He didn’t realise you were friends with these people. That these fellow parents could be people to have anything in common with in the first place. Astarion is hardly the enigma he used to be within the city walls and they know of him. They know you’re with him.

But none have ever seen him in the flesh.

There’s a minute where he ponders what they think of him. How you’d described him, how they may have looked at your daughter under the orange gloaming light of Leaffall and wondered which features of hers came first from him as opposed to you. How they’d pieced him together in their minds.

He feels a little out of place as you chatter - hyper aware of each stolen glance in his direction. The whites of new eyes flickering in the darkness. 

It isn’t often he meets new people anymore. Even his client roster is exclusive. 

“Why would I tell you how good-looking he is when he isn’t even here to hear it?”

He tunes back in. They all look, you included.

“Hm?”

“Marta-’ 

A faux accusatory glance on your face as you look over to the human who - Astarion presumes - is Marta. 

‘Asked why I hadn’t told the group just how attractive you are.”

The way the most blinding smile breaks over your ruddied cheeks. He melts behind a scoff.

“Actually darling, Marta has a point. I’m hurt, frankly.”

Gods. They’re all laughing. Your gaggle of school-gate friends and he has them laughing.

“No, it’s just dark. See him by light. Then you’ll change your minds.”

You huddle closer despite the brazen lie and the group laughs away. He throws in a small chuckle for good measure and presses a kiss to your head once more.

They’re all relatively harmless, he decides.

What do school gate friends do? Why have you never invited them over for wine or something? 

“I mean - Astarion, what do you think?”

“Hm?”

“They’re showing a rather keen interest to come over one evening for dinner. Inconspicuous, I’m sure.” 

He looks around warily. Can they read his mind? Is someone here a weird school gate mind reader freak? What the fuck?

Your eyes narrow at Marta in jest.

Oh.

If you’re even showing the slightest hint at wanting the doting husband, the doting husband he will give you. Freely and willingly. Far too easily. Naturally.

“Oh! Whatever you want, my love. Anything.”

Astarion takes your head in his hands and brings you close for a warm kiss, eyes softening as he holds you in place. A gentle smile against the harsh wind.  

“What’s in the bag?” Another asks in a jarring fettle. Your head whips round. He answers softly. 

“I- I made the little one a scarf.” 

A coo arises from those huddled around the two of you. 

“He’s a tailor. A good one, too. Really good.” 

You nod with a smile, looking at him. You’re mid-cycle and the idea of your daughter spotting him with those big eyes makes you a bit weak.

A saccharine voice from somewhere in the mix - “He’s immaculate, honey. I’m a little jealous?” 

If he can blush, Astarion feels one coming on. This feels staged. 

“He can’t take his shoes off without kicking them up the wall. Or catch spiders.”

-

As you resume your quiet chatter amongst the group, Astarion catches the door open in the near distance and a soft amber glow pouring from it from the corner of his eye.

It’s a trance. He looks over the heads obscuring his view, the tips of his toes touching the ends of his pristine shoes. 

And there she is.

Absolutely perfect. Small, searching the crowd for the parent she knows will be here.

Then she sees him.

It’s not difficult from afar, even in the dark - she recognises the shock of white hair anywhere - and the look of sheer confusion painted on her face shifts to unfettered joy in seconds.

Gods. She’s running. Tiny legs, bag flailing in her hand. Shouting-

“DADDY!”

As she hurtles towards him, he realises he’s never seen her run like this. She can’t run like this in the house. It’d be enough to make him sad if he weren’t so wholly elated.

He crouches just in time for her to barrel into his open arms.

The way he cups the back of her head is as if he hasn’t seen her in years, spinning her as he stands and holds her at his hip. She’s babbling something wicked and all of it sounds like utter nonsense and he’s so besotted it doesn’t even matter.

His little girl, out in the world. Being a person. 

And it’s him that she chooses to run to. 

“Charming! Hello love!” You shuffle closer and plant a large kiss on the back of her head, taking the bags from her hand and hoisting them up over your back in a routine twirl.

You take Astarion’s hint of a glance toward his bag and roll your eyes fondly, feeling for the scarf and slipping it back into his hand.

“My little darling! Hello! I have something for you - close your eyes.”

He haphazardly wraps the scarf around her neck with one hand as she bristles against his hip, wiggling her shoulders in some impromptu happy dance.

“Look now! You match us!” He exclaims. 

She opens her eyes and squeals with glee you haven’t seen at the school gate before, ever.

And true to his word, the scarf wholly matches both of yours. Embroidered with small golden stars on navy fabric. Her name in some immaculate loopy hand. Far too big for her at present, but warm on this coldest of evenings.

“I love it daddy. I want another one.” She nods acutely and smatters his face in small kisses. 

As you look to Astarion, he raises both brows in amusement at her request. She tucks her head in under his chin.

“Come along now. Let’s get you warm by the fire.”

✦

#my writing #astarion x reader #dadstarion #astarion baldurs gate #baldurs gate astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #tav x astarion #dadstarion fridays #tailor dadstarion

[thepersonnamedsam]

do you think we’re best friends in every universe? - ln4 & gzd

pairing: lando norris x the genz!driver

summary: y/n asked lando, if they’d be best friends in every universe

word count: 500

warnings: none

note: a little drabble about the current tiktok trend :)

masterlist / taglist

„Lan, do you think we’re best friends in every universe?“, she asked the older boy. „Huh?“, he had asked back.

„Do you think we’re best friends in every universe? I saw this trend on TikTok“, she explained.

„Let me see“, Lando demanded. y/n stretched her arm out to give Lando her phone. „That’s a sad one, but there are happy ones“, she said as she showed him the video were the F1 drivers all had different best friends.

Lando laughed his typical laugh and said: „I definitely wouldn’t say ‚what’, I‘d probably say ‚huh‘.“ She laughed, as that was the exact thing he’d said when she asked him.

„Do you think we’re best friends? Seriously“, she asked one more time.

Lando tugged on his Ferrari shirt and looked at her Mercedes gear. „Yeah, I think so, even if we aren’t enemies on the track, I think we’d be best friends.“

y/n laughed a little, her heart swelled a little at his words. „What do you think, do we drive for different teams in different universes, do we even drive in Formula 1?“

His shirt changed to a McLaren one and hers to her own team. „Maybe, maybe I’ll drive for Ferrari and you for Mercedes“, he laughed. She nodded her head, wondering how’d it be to drive for one of the big teams.

„And what if we don’t even drive in F1? I mean we met here“, she dragged out. „I think we’d still find a way to meet.“

„I mean, we met on a Saturday in a bakery, don’t you remember?“, Lando giggled. They were sitting on the floor in a two bedroom apartment. „You’re right! London, 2021, a tiny little bakery, you ordered a cinnamon bun and I got a raspberry tart!“, she excitedly said.

„And look where we are now! I mean, you’re an engineer for Red Bull Racing and I am a professional Golf Player who even participated in the Netflix Cup with Pierre Gasly“, he added.

„I think we’d always find a way back to Formula 1“, she sighed. Lando‘s light blue shirt matched y/n Williams shirt. „Do you think we’d be teammates too?“, he asked.

She shook her head no: „I don’t think we’d always be teammates, but always best friends, right?“

Lando nodded as he handed her a pint: „Always my pub bestie.“

„Maybe not always pub besties, but maybe even best friends since birth“, she smiled. „You weren’t even born in the UK, how would we be besties since birth?“, he asked.

„But I was“, she exclaimed. „Don’t you remember our mums meeting in the hospital?“

„Fuck, yes you’re right! Besties since birth, my god.“

„I know everything about you, Lando Kinder Norris“, she giggled and pushed him away.

„Do you think we’d be together in another universe?“, he asked shyly.

„I think I love you in every universe“, she said back and drew more figures on his naked torso. „Good, I don’t think I’d be able to live without you“, he sighed. „Don’t worry Lan, I’ll always be with you, one way or another.“

„Don’t you dare eat that worm!“, y/n in her bird from squealed. „And what if I do“, Lando challenged. „I’m gonna pick your feathers out“, she dared. „Ohh now I’m scared“, he taunted and ate her worm.

„What if I was that worm“, she whined. „Then I’d have you in me all the time and forever.“

Lando laughed and said: „Yes, y/n, I think we’re best friends in every universe.“

°°°

@ironmaiden1313 , @topguncultleader , @biglittlesecret , @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23 , @copper-boom , @love4lando , @champomiel , @serenityleah , @iloveyou3000morgan , @angelwithoutmywings , @elleeeee21 , @youkissedareaderinthedark , @mikauraur , @thybulleric , @lpab , @fdl305 , @mellowarcadefun , @teti-menchon0604 , @vildetry06 , @bibissparkles , @aurora-maria , @lunnnix , @sya-skies , @Buckywifeyy , @dakotali , @rechtrecht , @noncannonships , @1eclerc16 , @pitlanebabe , @sopheeg , @avengersheart , @thatsadsmallchild , @peachiicherries , @idkiwantchocolatee , @callsign-scully , @mehrmonga , @badbatch-simp24 , @lissyontour , @din0nugs , @elliegrey2803 , @gay-for-victoria-de-angelis , @10vely-yutazen , @daggersquadphantom , @azriel-the-shadowsinger , @i-love-scott-mccall , @mikauraur , @heartmetaphor , @darleneslane , @ellswilliams , @thxtmarvelchick , @nataliambc , @dontjudgeabookbythecover , @hockeyboysarehot , @thehistoryone , @zimm04 , @woozarts , @mellowarcadefun , @deephideoutmolkshake , @grimeslvrr

#f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 #genz driver #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris drabble #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff #ln4 fic

[sixosix]

(not just a) one night something | itoshi sae

rumors spread, and your friendship with sae gets complicated enough to help you fix your problem

( ? ) itoshi sae x fem!reader

( ! ) probably ooc sae, supposed unrequited pining, time skips, meet again, failed date shenanigans, getting together, CHILDHOOD FRIENDS!!! this is so. terrible actually omfg.

“i think i like itoshi.”

kamiko pauses mid-lick on her popsicle as she follows where your eyes are intently focused: a nimble boy with pale brown-red hair, swerving a soccer ball around like it’s one with him, just another limb.

“sae-kun?” kamiko asks, brows furrowing. “aren’t you friends with him?”

“mhm.” you nod, watching him play with a bright smile. your view of his play isn’t hindered even from behind the fence.

the ball drifts past right in front of where you and kamiko are situated side-by-side on the grass; then, a gust of wind howls past and flaps your hair, and the culprit is in the form of itoshi sae, who looks as if he’s barely moving with how seamless he moves across the field of heaving boys.

there’s something entrancing about how he handles the ball—ruthless and decisive. in class, he’d just be sitting by himself, bored, while people flock around him like moths to a flame. but here, he’s thriving, nearly smiling if you know itoshi sae well enough. and you do.

even under where the sun is too high, and you’re feeling too warm in this light shirt, sae is untouched.

“he’s really cool,” you continue after a beat, and kamiko harrumphs.

“i like sae-kun, too,” she declares.

“oh,” you blink. you suppose best friends don’t have a free pass. “should we rock, paper, scissors it?”

you do rock, and she does scissors. you let out a little, woo! because you don’t get to win this often. rock, paper, scissors is always the easiest way to settle things.

“this is stupid!” kamiko fumes, her ears red from embarrassment.

you laugh, waving it off. “sorry, miko-chan. d’you want my candy as truce?”

kamiko pouts and takes it from you, still huffy and pouty.

when you turn back to watch the game, there’s a second where sae catches your eye, wiping sweat off his forehead. it spears into you, as sharp as how he sent the soccer ball straight in the net moments ago.

yells, cheers, the ball falls back onto the grass, sae quirks an eyebrow, waving once— victory—! your pulse jumps, and you barely have a moment to wave back.

blinking again, he’s already turning away, leaving you lost like you just lost a goal to him.

“hey,” kamiko nudges you, “you okay?”

you stare after sae’s back, heart racing. “it’s nothing,” you finally say, and kamiko’s brows are furrowed as she looks at you.

the day starts as usual, and it makes you feel off.

nothing seems out of place. your bed is exactly where it’s supposed to be; breakfast is your favorite, served precisely how you like it. you even arrived on time for class. nothing seems wrong, and it’s making you nervous because there’s a clawing feeling in your chest for no reason.

there seems to be nothing but clear skies, sunny with bright blue. birds singing, leaves fluttering and crunching under your feet, and the way to school is just smooth sailing. there is nothing out of place.

but the moment you step onto your classroom, everyone’s gazes cut into you. there’s a gleam in all of them, making you seize up, glancing around warily.

“what?” you ask defensively, scowling.

“hey, y/n-chan, is it true that you like sae?” one of your classmates asks, wearing a smile that spells out nothing but trouble.

“what…?” you stare at him, bewildered. “where did you get that?”

“from everyone, really. it was a hot topic earlier, didn’t you hear?”

it shouldn’t make you feel as shameful as it is, but the way everyone in the room is giggling and the way their eyes feel like they’re everywhere—in each corner of the room, on the floor, groping your body—makes you want to leave the room right and there, yet your feet are glued to the floor.

“you’re crushing on your friend? that’s so awkward!”

“way to ruin your friendship with someone like sae-kun…”

“haha! you think you have a chance, y/n?” someone else whispers from the sides. “that’s so brave of you.”

mortification boils in your stomach, and you feel it in the way your throat constricts, and your hands shake. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.” why do they care? do they have to stare this much?

“you’re so nervous!” she laughs, leering cruelly. “so it’s true!”

“leave me alone,” you snarl, fuming. with anger or humiliation? you don’t know.

all you know is that you only told one person about it, which can only mean one thing. you catch her eye, and at least, kamiko has the decency to look guilty.

you don’t know what went down earlier and what you did to make kamiko spill your confession, but what’s done is done, and there’s no use denying it when you’ve already lashed out.

you push past the students crowding around you and tune all their mocking sneers out, wishing the day would just end already.

you could get out right now, leave the room and pretend you were sick to not face any more of their suffocating scrutiny. but that is admitting defeat over petty gossip, and you will not have them winning over you just because of a stupid crush.

the door creaks open again, and the whispers increase with fervor and strength. a chair screeches against the tiles before it pauses, and suddenly everyone shuts up. you can feel someone’s stare drilling craters on the back of your head, but you don’t trust yourself to be able to look back, knowing who it is without even trying.

“y/n.”

you bury your face in your arms.

sae tries again. “who did this to you?”

“not now, itoshi. leave me alone.”

“stupid,” sae grumbles under his breath.

that day, when you shove past everyone and ignore kamiko and sae calling after you, is the day any affection towards sae is buried by disgust towards yourself.

your prayers are answered when news spreads out that sae is off to spain the next day.

it is sudden, despite his younger brother answering questions saying that yes, he’s already been planning to for a while; no, this is not sudden. and you know it, too, because sae told you about it before; you were just not expecting it to be this soon.

however, coincidence or not, you’re just relieved to know that you don’t have to embarrass yourself in front of your best friend ever again.

someone jokes that you scared him away, and you tell them that you’re grateful you did before you punch someone in front of him.

he never said goodbye.

whatever. he’s probably disgusted at you anyway.

(he becomes a star; you forget about itoshi sae for years.)

YEARS LATER.

“ahhh—finally!” kamiko wails, stretching her arms over her head at what looks to be a painful angle.

you groan, nearly losing balance and passing out on the floor, but unfortunately, kamiko is quick enough to tip you back. “ugh, that felt like ages. what if i just drop out? i could just do that now.”

“don’t,” kamiko laughs, patting your head lightly, pinky high and everything, “you’ll die worse than before if you give up now.”

you swat her hand away.

it took a while before you and kamiko got along again.

years, even. you think you still can’t accept her apology, but eventually, you got over your crush, people stopped talking about the incident, and your bitterness towards her left along with it. not like you could even try getting rid of her when she trails after you like a lost puppy, anyway.

so now here you are, in a reluctant friendship with kamiko, despite everything. it’s not worth losing a friendship over some boy, whether or not it’s itoshi sae.

so long as she knows what she did was wrong, she’s fine, you suppose. she hasn’t done anything else after that, so you let it be.

“you’re right. i can’t drop out when finals just ended,” you sigh, slumping. “i’ll do it when the next term starts so i don’t put myself through that again.”

“so dramatic,” kamiko giggles. “i’ll support whatever you do, okay?”

you roll your eyes, hip-checking her. “i know.”

like every poisoned teenager in the modern age, you reach for your phone and mindlessly scroll through as kamiko lists off her plans for the entire school break. something about flying out of the country for vacation, and you should consider coming. (the answer is no, obviously.)

“don’t hole yourself up in your room, y/n-chan!” kamiko scolds; it reminds you of a fretting mother hen. “that’s not healthy. we don’t get breaks often—have fun with it as much as you can.”

“okay,” you murmur, only half-heartedly listening in lieu of searching for a new series to binge over break. there’s nothing interesting. you scowl.

“hey, look,” kamiko remarks, tapping at your screen to pause at one article. “my feed has been all about soccer lately, too. i never even liked anything about sports!”

“weird,” you agree, but you don’t think too much about it. the familiar view of your neighborhood washes over your eyes, and you pause, . “hey, my stop is here. see you after break?”

kamiko pecks your cheek, “see you, then!”

you bid goodbyes, and the day should end just like that: on a high note, free from the shackles of student torture. when you reach your home, though, the weariness is overshadowed by sudden restlessness.

“ugh,” you say again because you already know what to do to cool off.

a school break is exactly what you need.

a school break should be spent at home, probably lying on the bed sleeping, and if not dozing off, then just lying somewhere with music blasting to muffle any thoughts in your head. it is meant to relax, waste time away, and regret it the next day because you never did anything you wanted to.

but the weather is still perfect; the setting sun isn’t smothered by gray clouds, nor is the wind sipping warmth off of your body. it’s not every day your mood matches the weather, so you get up, dress nice enough to not look like a zombie who had to take a math exam, and head out.

“stupid kamiko and her romanticized lifestyle,” you gripe, hugging your arms when your pace picks up speed. “’s starting to get to me, too.”

the theaters could be a good place to start, you muse, scanning the posters on the walls.

superhero action? eh. cheesy romcom? maybe not when you’re still reeling from finals. horror? might scare the stress away, sure, but the movie doesn’t look appealing.

you move to the next, when out of the blue, a body pushes up against you, almost shoving you to the screen.

“hey, back up a little, would you?” you hiss under your breath, spinning around to face a man that makes you pause for a moment out of surprise. he’s crowding behind you like he wants something, and he is suspiciously familiar—you just can’t put a finger on it.

he lifts an eyebrow. “you talking to me?”

your face scrunches, curiosity shattering instantly. “who else is there?”

“no.” the man shakes his head, staring right at you. “you talking to me like that?”

“okay, you don’t have to be a little—”

he scoffs, and that constipated, dead-inside face he’s making clicks puzzle to its empty slots.

that aggravating attitude, exuding confidence and arrogance with every word; two thick strands of hair framing the sides of his face, and that biting stare in green eyes—

“itoshi?” you blabber, dumbfounded.

you’re not sure why you didn’t recognize him instantly, but now that you are, you almost want to let your jaw hang open with how much he’s grown into his features, all spiky strands and soft skin.

the years have been treating him a little too well, it seems.

sae’s eyes sharpen at you before he quickly looks around, surveying the oblivious crowd—utterly unaware of japan’s golden boy cornering a helpless little you in front of a movie poster.

you follow his gaze and snort at his wary expression. “are you hiding from someone?”

sae’s gaze swivels back, and suddenly, your laughter dies down. “come watch the movie with me.”

you turn behind you, gazing at the poster featuring a boy jumping high up in the air, reaching for a ball, then back to itoshi sae, who looks like he’d rather bury himself on his bed than be here.

“we haven’t even seen each other for so long.”

sae looks at you with an expression that speaks: so?

“this is…” you slowly say, “a volleyball movie.”

again, with the look: and i care, because…?

you splutter, hands raised in defense. “well, isn’t soccer your whole shebang?”

“you like it,” he says, unblinking, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the poster, “we will watch it.”

“i didn’t even say anything about liking it—”

seemingly having enough of your stalling, he tugs on your wrist and leads you to where the movie you “chose” is showing. you keep talking in hopes of scaring him off to spain once again, but he seems determined to ignore you, and it’s not in the way you need at the moment.

since when did he even get tickets?

“at least take me to dinner first, jeez,” you grumble when he leads you to two seats in the far corner.

“it’s not like i’m asking you to sleep with me. and aren’t movies counted as dates?” sae counters easily, plopping down on the seat next to you, as if he didn’t just drag you into this just to hide from god knows who.

“okay, genius, answer me this: who are you even running from?”

sae isn’t the type to squirm, but the face he makes might as well be the closest you can get out of him. “i don’t want to do stupid photoshoots.”

although your friendship with sae felt mostly one-sided because of how inexpressive he is, you’re glad you can read him more easily than anyone else. it makes you feel giddy, even if you know that he never explained why he didn’t say goodbye, and your last interaction was, to be frank, mortifying.

but right now, he isn’t saying anything about it. he isn’t even looking at you’re a pebble he kicked off the side of the road, like he usually does to everyone else. so this might be good—maybe sae actually has a heart in there, willing to spare you from embarrassment just to continue this friendship.

even when here, he’s a celebrity, and you’re just a childhood friend who had a crush on him.

you might have liked him because of that—a star the world can’t handle just yet in the body of one boy. he lets you stay by his side, even if you could never follow after him. he’s always there; if he’s not, he comes back somehow, a pull of gravity bringing you together.

with a long, dragged-out sigh at that thought and this situation, you lean against the headrest. “i’m on school break. i wish you just chose some pretty girl to drag into your undercover mission.”

“i did.”

you turn to face him with a grimace, but he’s looking right at you without a hint of amusement. just faint confusion, as if he’s wondering why you’re even wishing for something like that.

deciding to ignore his comment, you continue, “i feel like i’m about to get handcuffed the moment someone sees us together. not the best way to spend my break, itoshi.”

“you won’t,” sae huffs, and it almost sounds like a laugh. “just watch the damn movie.”

stunned at the slight upturn of his lips, you wordlessly watch the screen in front of you, but nothing about it is on your mind and is instead on the boy who you never thought you would see again.

(as always, even with blaring signs and butterflies in your stomach, you choose not to overthink it.)

“i can’t believe you sat through the entire movie,” you remark as soon as the credits roll, chuckling from disbelief.

sae usually leaves halfway through and doesn’t remember anything about it the moment he steps out. that is, if he even bothers watching in theaters in the first place. it’s soccer, soccer, soccer for him, and there is no hope in getting him out of it.

he faces you with a blank stare. “if you wanted to leave, you could’ve just told me.”

“and do that to you when you looked so captivated by a volleyball movie?” you snort, recalling the near-starstruck expression on his face you caught a glimpse of during the climax of the movie. “i’m no monster, itoshi.”

sae blinks, turning away with a scowl. “you were seeing things.”

you give him a helpless, fond smile and thank the heavens he doesn’t see it.

abruptly, he stands up and begins walking away, taking your hand along with it. his hand is warm, and your face is getting warmer, borderline hot, the more he continues doing literally anything.

for someone hiding from a photoshoot, he sure is roaming around with someone else in tow too freely.

“let’s eat dinner.”

“what? stop taking me hostage,” you whine, wriggling in his grip. onlookers give you glances before double-taking when their eyes catch a glimpse of an itoshi sae out in the wild. “i know you missed me and all, but if you keep dragging me everywhere, i’ll start screaming for help.”

“y/n,” he warns, with a slight glare.

you’re pretty sure your eyebrows reach your hairline hearing that from him. a pause, then: “you still remember my name.”

sae frowns. “what do you take me for?”

“an asshole.”

he shrugs and doesn’t deny it. “we were best friends.”

right, your gaze rips away from his, frowning at the floor. best friends. were best friends, ex-friend, classmate from years ago—that’s what you are to sae right now, and who are you to force yourself any more into his life again? look at how that ended up last time.

“actually,” you rip your wrist away from his grasp, trying to hide the hurt that is probably flashing across your face, “i don’t know if i want to eat dinner here, itoshi…”

sae’s frown deepens, but thankfully doesn’t push. “then, give me your number.”

“my number…?”

“you didn’t have a phone before i left,” he explains, with a hand patiently stretched out. “give me your number.”

you reluctantly grant him your phone to show the screen where a series of digits are displayed. dutifully, sae types it down on his own phone, which is probably the latest brand of the most expensive one you can think of.

“what is that for?” you ask, belatedly, once sae’s handed your phone back to you.

“you said you’re on school break. i’m taking you out tomorrow.”

“take me out?”

sae quirks a brow, amused. “are you complaining? didn’t you used to have a crush on me?”

you feel your face go up in flames, mortified. “had. had! that was ages ago. i don’t—”

of course. of course sae didn’t forget! he wouldn’t bring it up early to scare you off into spain, and now he’s cornered you right where he wants you. damn him!

sae tilts his head, inching closer, “you don’t?”

the whiff of his cologne and the dizzying proximity kills off the lies you were about to spew.

with a cough, you glower, “didn’t know you were so obsessed with me that you still remember something as stupid as that.”

he huffs a short laugh and lets you reel from assumptions by staying silent.

god, does he have to be so infuriating? you can almost feel your collar looming over your pulse the more those sharp green pierce straight right at where it hurts the most.

fuck.

this is the part where you realize that even after all this time, sae is still infuriatingly handsome. and even now that you’re mature and can tell right from wrong, you’re still attracted to him. gravity pulling, tugging right back into his palm.

(he is a star; how could you even think of forgetting about the same person you orbit around?)

you slam your hands on the counter, startling your friend into nearly dropping her phone straight onto the marble floor. “i like itoshi sae,” you declare, and recoil at saying that out loud.

kamiko perks up in confusion, blinking owlishly. “what?”

“i like itoshi sae,” you repeat, horrified. “again!” as if once wasn’t traumatizing enough.

she realizes she heard it right the first time and her jaw drops to the floor. “wait, how? what happened? what the hell did i miss? break just started yesterday—”

“he’s back in japan!” you weep, clutching your head with a grip strong enough to rip skin. “and i ran into him…?”

“is that a question or a statement?”

“shut up! he, like, roped me into watching a movie with him, and we spent the entire night together—”

“you had a one-night stand with itoshi sae?”

“not like that!” you shriek, heart bursting so wildly that blood rushes to your cheeks instantly. the implications of that are something you want to ignore. “i was just his… one-night girlfriend. except we didn’t do anything, it was barely even a date.” admitting it aloud makes you realize how stupid it sounds.

“y/n-chan!” kamiko gasps, eyes sparkling so bright you’d think she’s trying to blind you from excitement. she ambles over and grabs both of your hands. “y/n-chan, that is so incredibly stupid of you; you have to tell me everything that happened!”

“hey.” you frown, scandalized. “didn’t you like itoshi, too? and we fought over him through rock, paper, and scissors.”

kamiko’s eyes widen comically, slapping a hand over your mouth. “don’t say that!” she hisses, looking around as if you two aren’t the only ones in her kitchen. “my boyfriend might beat up your boyfriend before he even gets to be your boyfriend!”

the thought of kamiko’s spindly-built boyfriend fighting against soccer genius itoshi sae is a hilarious visual image.

“i’d like to see him try,” you laugh, pulling her hand away.

kamiko lifts one eyebrow, clearly wanting to point out that you didn’t deny anything about sae being your boyfriend. she pulls out her phone and starts researching, looking for any juicy information about japan’s golden boy. “i didn’t know itoshi-kun was back here. is that why my feed has been bombarded with soccer news?”

“i didn’t know either,” you wail, rolling your head to face heavenwards, ready to be taken in. “if i did, i never would’ve gotten out. i wouldn’t be in this mess, then. you’re leaving tomorrow, right? take me with you. i’ll start packing.”

kamiko shakes her head, drawing you back to her. “i’m sorry, y/n-chan. you have to face this like a real man!” with a free hand on your shoulder and fists pumping for effect.

you scowl. she’s betrayed you twice now. “weren’t you the one who wanted me to come!?”

kamiko turns back to her phone, curious. “hey, look. there was an interview earlier…”

sae texted you that same morning after that conversation with kamiko, telling you that he wanted to meet up and see you again. he said he still wanted to eat dinner and asked if you still didn’t want to, but after witnessing the car crash of an interview, you demand answers from him.

right now, though, you’re suddenly regretting not bringing a coat and scarf large enough to avoid any passerby glancing at you and wondering why you looked so familiar.

speaking of:

“hey, did you hear about itoshi’s interview?”

“what? what? itoshi the soccer kid?”

“yes! he said he’s seeing someone!”

“he can’t be! he hasn’t even met me yet!”

“was it the girl people saw with him last night?”

“wow, and here i thought his kind aren’t the type to be interested in romance…”

it’s that interview again. they haven’t stopped talking about it since the release. is that the easiest way to hook the entire population’s attention? stir romance and some celebrity in a pot, and suddenly, it’s pouring out money.

you want to muffle both your ears with your palms, but that would draw more unwanted attention, and you’re already running a bit late to your “date” with itoshi sae.

your heart is pounding. you want to get in there and hold it until it calms down.

“y/n.” a hand catches your arm, tugging you to a chest.

sae is holding you. “you almost ran past me.”

you blink, eyes round. “i was running?”

“from me, it almost seemed like,” he says, and pulls away only to take one good look at you. “you dressed up.”

“i did for you,” you nod, pleased, because you know he means that he thinks you look good. but no. first: “i might’ve been running because of that interview”

sae’s composed expression wavers, for a moment. he avoids your eye, glancing around with deeply furrowed brows. for anyone, he looks like he somehow got stomach cramps, but to you, this is easily translatable as sae being flustered.

“there is nothing to explain.”

“itoshi.” you grab him by the shoulders, heart racing and eyes wild. “you dragged me into a movie date last night. if it turns out you’re already in a relationship, i am going to kick your ass all the way to spain for playing with me—”

sae cups both of your cheeks in return. “i was talking about you, stupid. who else would be there? you think i’d look at anyone else?”

sae glowers at the ground when you try to meet his eyes, murmuring, “there are not a lot of things in japan that interest me. i have my own goals, but i am not immune to this. if you weren’t here, i wouldn’t bother staying— why are you crying?”

“itoshi!!!!” you hug him, sniffling. “i thought— i thought you left and didn’t care for me anymore! i thought i scared you off to spain when you heard about my massive crush on you!”

sae’s face is a mix of constipated and flabbergasted, but he doesn’t make any move to push you away. “what do you mean? you already knew about my feelings for you.”

“...when?” if sae confessed to you in any way, you definitely don’t remember anything, which means it never happened. if sae ever proclaimed his love for you, it’d be the only thing on your mind.

“we went on a date.” sae looks as confused as you are. “did you not know? it was obvious.”

“...what about your attitude made it obvious!?”

“you’re into my attitude.”

“shut up, itoshi.” you lightly hit his chest, overwhelmed by the flurry of emotions that keeps crashing over your soul, “promise me i’m not just a one-time thing?”

“never. you’re never just that.” much to your surprise, sae pulls you in by the waist and smiles. it’s small, barely visible, but it’s still there. “and it’s sae, dumbass. can we get on with the date now?”

“—another question, itoshi-kun,” the interview starts, sliding closer to the edge of her seat to inspect any of itoshi’s micro-expressions (not that she’d get any since sae can easily compose himself, and only those who can understand him well enough can look past that), “pictures from last night are spreading like wildfire! tell us, who were you with?”

sae doesn’t hesitate: “it’s none of your business.”

“hm, but you sure didn’t act that way when you let yourself be seen in public like that,” she says, and though her expression doesn’t give it away, she’s riling him up on purpose.

itoshi’s eyebrow twitches slightly. he looks impatient. “i’m not ashamed to be seen with her, so don’t fucking bother trying anything. what i have with her is out of your concern.”

“so, does that mean—”

“yes, i’m seeing someone,” he cuts her off smoothly, running thin, “and yes, who you saw is the one for me. are you going to keep asking questions unrelated to soccer? i’m going to leave.”

he does leave before the interview can even reply, checking his phone and typing:

sae

let’s meet again.

i want to see you.

a/n: just wanna say: i literally know NOTHING about this man and only based his characterization off of glimpses and scenes i saw from the manga (and for me to translate a soccer match to a romantic fic is torture). so the fact out of everyone in blue lock, a fic about sae has the highest word count is insanity. i need to balance it out with bachira and isagi fics asap.

#606:BLLK #blue lock x reader #x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock fanfiction #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x you #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x y/n #sae itoshi x you #itoshi sae fic

[blythsholland]

Impromptu Getaway - Tom Blyth x Female!reader

Pairing: Tom Blyth x female!reader

Warnings: none, just fluff! WC: 1.2K

Summary: your boyfriend Tom, takes you on a spontaneous getaway but little did you know a surprise was coming.

AN: This is my attempt on getting back to writing after a long time of not doing so. Any grammatical errors are all mine! Sorry if this isn’t good enough. I hope you all enjoy!

-

It was Saturday morning. The sun peeking through the bedroom curtains woke you from your deep slumber. Turning around, you meet the man you were lucky to call yours. His hair was all over the place, the sun hitting his nose, a small smile across his lips even while sleeping, and a subtle amount of scruff he had not had the chance to shave. Tom was all yours, and you were lucky to be his.

You both were in a cozy cabin Tom had rented for the weekend at a ski lodge resort. When he learned he had a small break from filming Billy the Kid, he immediately asked you to go on a spontaneous little trip. Tom had heard of the place before because it was famous for its beautiful views and skiing. So, when he asked, you did not think twice and packed your bags. Thankfully, your work was fully remote, so if Tom were to ask you to go with him anywhere, you would.

Deciding to wake him up, you pressed small kisses against his cheeks, nose, and forehead until they reached his lips.

A small chuckle left his lips, finally opening his gorgeous blue eyes to see you. "Well, good morning to you too, my love."

"Morning handsome. Did you sleep well?"

He pulls you even closer so his lips meet yours. “I always sleep well with you in my arms, darling.”

It was moments like these that made your love for Tom grow even more. No matter how cheesy he would get, the butterflies were always there.

“Is almost 9 in the morning… what are our plans for today?”

“That my love is done. I have planned the day for us beforehand. And trust me, you are going to love everything I have planned out today.”

“Well then, let me shower so we can start our day.”

Getting up from bed, you started to go through your bags, picking up an outfit for the day, when you felt Tom’s arms wrap around your waist and his lips kissing your shoulder. “Can I join you?”

Throughout the day, various activities were made by both of you. To start the day, Tom planned a delicious brunch for the two of you. It was in an outdoor place, being able to take in the fascinating views the resort had. After that, you both instantly hit the slopes. Tom was an expert at skiing. However for you, not so much.

“Tom! You forgot I am not an expert on this. Stop laughing!” You had fallen while trying to come to a stop but had failed horribly with you ending on the snow-covered floor. And yet, that did not stop you both from having fun. Ice skating was next on the list and that did not go as well for Tom as it did for you.

“You know, this is payback for laughing at me when we were skiing.” A chuckle left your lips as you helped Tom get up from the floor after he fell… for a fourth time. “And I bet you’re enjoying this, aren’t you doll?” Giggling, you pressed your lips against his in a small kiss. “Oh, of course I am.”

Nighttime came and you both made it back to the cabin. The activities done throughout the day made you want to take a long hot shower and that was exactly what you did. This gave Tom enough time to prepare one last thing, a surprise for you. After a nice long shower later, you entered the bedroom only to be surprised by Tom, dressed nicely, giving you a look, you could not describe. He seemed a bit nervous, and you could not comprehend why. “Tom is everything okay?”

“Everything is more than okay love.” He responded by pecking your lips in a short kiss. “I have one more plan. It is more of a surprise, and I want you to wear that dress I made you pack. Get ready. I will be waiting for you in the living room.”

While getting ready, you could not help but think about all the possibilities of what it could be. The dress was one Tom loved on you. Something about it made you look even more beautiful than you already were. With one last look in the mirror, you made your way towards the living room to meet with the most beautiful scene in front of you.

In front of the fireplace stood Tom. His eyes looking at you in complete admiration, mesmerized by your beauty, his pupils full of love for you. It was like time stood still. You are standing there in front of him as if you were an angel sent from above, and Tom could not believe he was lucky you were his. Candles around the living room illuminating the place in a soft glow. Rose petals were placed across the floor, creating a passageway for you to walk in. Everything was perfect.

Walking over to you, Tom grabbed your hands and pulled you towards the center of the room. By now, you had a clear idea of what was going on and what was coming next. Tom started talking and that is when your tears fall. “My darling, I have been lucky to call you mine the last three years. You have been there for me every step of the way, through difficulties, cheering me on in my career and work, and I could not have asked for a better person. You are the love of my life, my other half, the one that completes me.”

Grabbing a small box from the back of his trousers, he opens it showing a beautiful diamond ring. He gets on one knee and holds your hand before continuing. “I am so deeply in love with you, and I want us to be like this forever, with you by my side, until we grow old. I knew from the moment I saw you, that you are the one. You captivated me before I even got the courage to talk to you. And here we are tonight, with me on one knee, about to ask you a question that is going to change our lives for the better. My love, my darling, will you make me the happiest and do the honor of marrying me?”

By now, tears were falling freely. His words touched your heart deeply. Tom, the man you love with your entire soul, was in front of you, asking that question you had dreamed of since you both started dating. Somehow something in you knew the day you met Tom; he was going to change your life forever and he certainly did.

Overwhelmed with emotions you could not even utter a word. Instead, you kneeled in front of him. Placing your hand on the apple of his cheeks, wiping away the tears that also fell from his enchanting blue eyes. “Tom, you have my heart and my whole soul. And you have no idea how deeply touched I am by your words. I love you more than you can imagine, so yes! A million, billion, infinite times yes!”

A hearty laugh left his lips, grabbing your left hand as he slid the ring on your finger, before catching your lips with his on an enthusiastic kiss. His lips were soft against yours, his thumb caressing your left cheek while the other tangled itself in your hair. A kiss full of love, passion, and a promise of forever.

tomblyth just posted a photo.

liked by youruser, rachelzegler, tomblyth, hunterschafer, and others

tomblyth A special weekend with the future Mrs. Blyth 💍❤️🥂

rachelzegler I'M SO HAPPY FOR BOTH OF YOU.

rachelzegler Guys, the way I witnessed both of you fall in love in front of my eyes 🥹🥹🥹🥹

↪ youruser  I love you!!! if it weren’t for you I wouldn’t have made the first move. 🫣

youruser I love you so so much 🥹❤️ can’t wait until forever with you.

↪ tomblyth I love you so much more my darling. Can’t wait to see you walk down the aisle. 😍��️

hunterschafer OH MY GOD YOU GUYS, so so so immensely happy for both of you. 🩷🩷 @ tomblyth @ youruser

userfan my parents are getting married!!!😭

userfan1 congra😭tu😭la😭tions😭

userfan2 that should be me 😭 I’m kidding you guys, I love you both so much 🥹

youruser just posted a photo.

liked by tomblyth, rachelzegler, tomholland2013, zendaya, and others

youruser The easiest “Yes” I ever said. I love you with my entire soul!❤️💍🥂 @ tomblyth P.S. Last pic is Tom’s way of celebrating after I said yes.

↪ tomblyth I love you infinite times more, my love. ❤️ And let’s be honest, you loved the way I celebrated on that last pic! 🫢

↪ youruser Oh, you know I did! 🤭

rachelzegler I am going to be the maid of honor btw!

↪ youruser Yes you are! 👗💗

joshandresrivera Did Tom really went outside like that in the cold snow?

↪ tomblyth you bet I did! It was fun!

userfan no wonder Tom posted that random story of him dancing and going outside like that in the snow!

userfan1 The ring is so gorgeous. I’m so happy for both of you omg.🥹😭

userfan2 my parents are so in love 🥹 I want what they have!

#tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x fem!reader #tom blyth x you #tom blyth social media au #tom blyth fic #tom blyth fanfiction

[die-pink-maus]

📖 Mein Tutor 📖

❤︎ Darawing Credits: @shkretart ❤︎

Synopsis: Reader makes a New Year’s resolution to be more productive, finding herself fascinated with language, she decides to hire an in person tutor to give her the run down on Deutsch. However, turns out that learning German isn’t the only thing on readers mind…or her tutor, König’s 🤭

TW: 18+, MDNI, heavy smut, fluff fluff fluff, MDom, age gap relationship (26/41), dirty talk, female pronouns used, fingering, p in v, eye contact during seggs, size kink, female reader, vanilla seggs

AN: This is a ✨one shot✨ all the goods are here and there aren’t any additional parts. I would say this is a “medium” burn lol, there’s quite a bit of background and dialogue before we get into ITTTT. I’m learning German at the moment and my tutor is really cute, so it made me think hmm…😂 Also, I do tend to write König as a softer character, so this won't be for you if you don't like fluff, but I'm going to try my hand at a more domineering version of him soon. I hope you guys like it!

Word Count: 5,412

❤︎Like & Reblogs Are Greatly Appreciated!❤︎

Enjoy! 💋

I’ve never really been one for New Year’s resolutions, but considering how chaotic my life was last year, I figured setting a goal or two for myself would probably do me some good. I’d been searching for new and productive ways to spend my free time for a while now, and discovered that I really enjoy learning new languages. Language has always been incredibly fascinating, but I never realized just how fascinating it could truly be until now. He’s retired, ex military, and practically everything about him is unknown, down to his name as he only goes by his former callsign which is König. He’s shrouded in mystery with just the right amount of danger — everything from the way he caries himself to the black ski mask he wears during our lessons is telling of his obscure and likely troublesome past. But behind this large secretive wall appears to be an overall happy man, one who chooses to spend his free time teaching people such as myself how to speak in his native tongue — German. He’s an incredible teacher, he’s taught me more than I ever thought was possible in two months. He makes our lessons enjoyable and fun, I’m almost always ready for our next lesson the minute one ends.  I practically count down the days of each week, patiently awaiting 7pm on Friday nights when he graces my front door, barely able to walk through the door frame without bumping his head due to his unbelievably tall and brawny stature. I think about him more than I’d like to admit. The sweet praises that escape his lips at the end of each lesson, how the wrinkles around his stunning blue eyes crinkle up when he listens to me say a new word he’s taught me — I assume he’s smiling considering I can’t see anything other than his eyes. “Very good, schatz.” He says as he gives me a playful round of applause. There’s something about him that draws me in. I don’t really know what he looks like, but from what I can see, he’s perfect. Probably the tallest man I’ve ever laid eyes on, a muscular physique that never goes unnoticed even in loose fitting clothing, it’s damn near impossible for my mind not to wander off. I know he’s much older than me, and for all I know he could have an entire family with a wife and children. Considering how sweet he is, it wouldn’t be surprising at all.   I’m not too sure if German is considered a language of love by many, or anyone at all, but he has a way of making it sound so sexy. I’m damn near hypnotized by the rough and rugged tone that coats each word he speaks. Even in English, his accent is absolutely endearing, it takes everything in me to keep my composure as my core heats and arousal slowly begins to glaze the soft pink cotton of my panties. 

Our lesson is almost over for the evening, but I’m feeling a little bold…another thing I promised myself this year is that I won’t allow fear to control my life. I doubt I ever cross his mind. He probably doesn’t look at me or think of me in all the many ways I do with him given our age difference, but I’m old enough to know what I want. Tonight’s the night I start making it clear that I’m interested, and if it’s not reciprocated, at least I tried. He began packing away his notebook and heading towards the foyer when my eye caught a glimpse of a vintage bottle of red wine I’d bought earlier in the week. “Um,” I began hesitantly, my mind sorting through ways in which I could make him stay a little longer. I walked over to the kitchen counter and grabbed the bottle of wine, along with two glasses from the cupboard above. “Any plans for this evening? I was thinking…maybe you’d like to have a glass of wine with me?” I blushed. The look in his eyes was reminiscent of a deer in headlights. Figures he’d be caught off guard, considering we’d never spent time together outside of our lessons. “Well, I don’t have any plans at all,” he laughed, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, the wrinkles around his dazzling blue eyes crinkling up. “Are you sure there isn’t anyone else you’d rather share that with? Looks like an expensive bottle, don’t think your boyfriend would appreciate you sharing this with the strange masked Austrian man who comes by to teach you German once a week.”

“Well, who said I had a boyfriend?” I giggled, my cheeks ablaze from slight embarrassment at his assumption. “I just assumed that a beautiful young woman such as yourself…” He began as we held each other’s gaze. “So is that a yes or no?” I smirked.

“Alright, wine it is.” He said hesitantly as he removed his boots. “I’ll invoice you for the extra time later.” He teased. We both took a seat on my sofa “Prost!” I smiled after I poured us both a glass, and raised my glass with him. “Sehr gut, Schatz!” He praised before raising the edge of his mask up to his nose and taking a sip. This is more of him than I’ve ever been able to see. His jaw line is strong and chiseled, peppered with an even layer of stubble. “Alright, you have to tell me,” I began. “Why do you wear the mask?”

He paused for a moment, thinking of an answer to a question he probably gets quite frequently. “There are quite a few reasons…” he sighed. “The military has and always will be a large part of my life, I suppose there’s some comfort in it for me. Maybe I just feel a little exposed without it because I’ve worn one almost every day of my life since I was a teenager.” He laughed. “Also, there’s the matter of safety…”

“Why would you need your mask for safety?”

He sighed, “It’s complicated, but there are situations you can sometimes get yourself into that cause you to make enemies out of people you wouldn’t really want to make enemies with.” He said. It hadn’t really occurred to me until just now that he’s more than likely had a hand in ending someone else’s life. It sounds silly, because he was in the military so I should have just assumed, but aside from the mask and his large, intimidating body, it’s kinda hard to picture him as some ruthless assassin. All of our interactions thus far have been so pleasant, and he’s never been anything other than a gentleman, there’s a part of me that wonders… “Are you okay?” I asked, a pang of immediate regret stirring within me as soon as the words left my lips. I guess I just can’t imagine having to do the things he probably had to do. I don’t think I’d be okay, I don’t know how I could cope with taking another life, or watching the life of someone else get taken. He cocked his head to the side, eyes slightly squinted as he let out a brief chuckle. “You know,” he began. “I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me that before…” he trailed off. “I would say…I wasn’t always okay, it was very hard in the beginning, but over time I’ve learned to be okay.” He beamed, a softness gleaming in his eyes, almost as if he was glad I asked. “I’m happy to hear that” I smiled. 

I’d like to think I was able to gain his trust that night, something I know is probably a challenging task for many others. Since then, we’ve made it somewhat of a tradition to share a bottle of wine after each of our lessons. Sometimes he even cooks dinner and chefs up a few of his favourite Austrian dishes. Nothing makes me melt more than seeing how overjoyed he is that I’ve enjoyed something he made. Another two months have gone by, and it’s safe to say that he and I have been growing…closer, but be has yet to make an actual move. The ball is now in his court, so let’s see what he does with it. It's Saturday and I'm bored as hell. We spoke earlier and since we both aren’t doing anything, we decided maybe it would be a good idea to do something together, so I invited him over. This would be the first time we’d be spending time together where a lesson hasn’t taken place beforehand, so as excited as I am, I’m also feeling quite nervous. I made a small plater of appetizers for us to snack on while we do whatever it is we’re gonna be doing. Ultimately there’s no set plan, so I’m thinking we’ll probably end up watching a movie or two. My doorbell rang a few minutes later, and there he was holding a 6 pack of German beer and an extra large pizza. “You told me you enjoy pizza last time, so I figured I’d bring some for us to share.” He smiled. 

“Great choice.” I giggled as I moved aside so he could come in. “I did half meat lovers, and half extra cheese with pineapples.” He said as he opened the box to display the pizza, the look in his eyes hinting at how proud he was for remembering the toppings I like. “Very simple order, but it’s something very few can seem to get right,” I laughed as he placed the pizza on the counter top. “Thank you, König.” I said as I wrapped my arms around his torso. He’s huge so a proper hug just doesn’t work, but no hug in this world compares to a König hug. Those big muscular arms wrapped around me, engulfing me into his strong chest. He always smell amazing, like fragrant musky oud and aftershave. “Natürlich, Schatz.“ he whispers as his hand roams over the back of my head, fingers gently playing in my hair. I could stay in his arms forever, I’ve genuinely never felt safer than I do right here. We haven’t really had a moment quite as intimate as this one. We’ve hugged many times before, but not like this. We pulled away and smiled at each other. I cleared my throat before heading over to my kitchen to grab plates and napkins. "So how has your day been so far?" He asked a he took a took a seat at the breakfast bar. "Honestly, it's been pretty boring thus far, I'm counting on you to entertain me" I teased.

"And how do you expect me to do that?" He smirked.

"That's your job to figure out, not mine." I winked.

"Alright, what's you opinion on horror movies?"

"Love 'em!"

"Paranormal or slasher?"

"Hmm, haven't watched a slasher in a while..." I said as I took a seat on the stool beside him, grabbing a slice of my half of the pizza.

"Okay, I'm gonna count down, we're both gonna say a slasher on three and then go from there."

"Alright."

"Eins, Zwei, Drei..."

"Saw marathon." We both said before proceeding to burst into laugher. "Well that was easy," He laughed. "Never would've pegged you for a Saw type of woman though."

"Hey...ya girl's got good taste alright?" I laughed as I took a bite of my slice. We moved everything to the couch and setup Netflix. Luckily for us, Netflix happens to have all of the saw movies available for streaming. I took a seat on the couch after figuring everything out with the TV. "Why are you so far away?" He asked. I sat frozen for a moment, not sure what to do, the blood rushing to my cheeks as I face him. One of his arms rested gently behind the couch, signalling for me to come closer. I smiled bashfully before sliding closer to him, his large robust arm swinging around me and nuzzling me into his side. I gently placed my hand on his chest, before looking up at him. He looked down at me, the wrinkles around his eyes doing that thing I love so much to give away that he's smiling. He gently rubbed my arm, lifting his mask up to his nose, as he placed his finger underneath my chin. He leaned in close, gently rubbing his nose against mine. "May I kiss you, Schatz?" He whispered.

"Ja." I breathed.

"Sehr gut..." He smiled, taking note of my Deutsch response, as he closed the gap between our lips, enrapturing me in a kiss so deep my body turned to jello. His tongue entered my mouth, taking the kiss to new heights. It was dripping with passion, riddled with fervour and yearning. It was hot. Sensual and inviting, I was practically speechless when he pulled away, a string of spit connecting our swollen lips from the brief make out session a few seconds prior. He pulled me back into his chest, gently placing a kiss on the top of my head. Seems like he’s doing something with that ball after all.

By the time we’d finished watching the movies, it was nearly 2am. We were both slowly beginning to doze off before König took notice of the time. “Schiße,” he groaned as he rubbed his eyes. “When did it get so late?”

“No idea.” I yawned as I gently rose from his chest. Ugh he’s so comfy, I really didn’t want to get up, but I didn’t want to push things too far along by suggesting that he spend the night, no matter how badly I wanted to, and fuck did I want to. That one kiss alone was more than enough to have me practically dripping through my panties and down my thighs. He’s such a phenomenal kisser. For a good hour throughout the first movie, I pretty much had to fight myself to keep my mind off of imagining those lips of his covering my entire body in wet gentle kisses. Feeling them enclosed around my nipples, sucking and nipping at them with his teeth while his large calloused hands roam about my body. Picturing him between my legs, his sweet, rough tongue lapping over my swollen nub and dipping between my folds, blue eyes piercing my gaze as he watches me writhe in pleasure beneath him. I would let him have me all over the house, on every piece of furniture, every corner and crevice, I want to be able to look anywhere in here and remember how hard he fucked me…but I don’t want to come off too eager. We got up from the couch and headed towards the front foyer. “I had a great time tonight.” I blushed. “I’d love to maybe do it again sometime.”

“I agree,” he said. “But maybe, only if you’d like to, I could take you out for dinner somewhere nice?”

“Yes,” I said a little two quickly. “I would love to.”

“What about after our next lesson this week?”

“That works for me.”

“Perfect.” He said as he finished putting on his shoes. “I’ll see you then, Schatz. Guten Nacht” he said, gently pulling me in for a tight embrace, placing a kiss on the top of my head. “Let me know when you make it in.” I said.

“Roger.” He smiled, playfully saluting me as he headed out the front door. 

Sundays are what I like to call Self Care Days. I’ll normally do a full deep clean of the entire house, engage in some intensive skincare, play my favourite music, drink my favourite wine and eat my favourite foods. It wasn’t until I was finished washing off my clay face mask that I realized I was missing the wine and food. I quickly slipped into a pair of black leggings and a white hoodie, then grabbed my car keys and headed out to the grocery store a few minutes away to grab a bottle of Chardonnay and a few ingredients I’m missing to make lasagna. The supermarket is relatively empty today, which is quite surprising considering it’s a Sunday, but I have zero complaints. I definitely prefer it this way, there’s less anxiety surrounding finding the things you need as you can simply take your time. After grabbing my favourite jar of tomato sauce, ricotta cheese and big bottle of Chardonnay, I began walking off towards to the cash register. As I mindlessly drifted through the aisle towards the cashier, I caught a glimpse of someone familiar. My eyes trailed over the produce section of the grocery store and I saw him — König…but he wasn’t alone. Beside him, a beautiful statuesque blonde, gently rubbing his arm as a little boy around maybe around 3 or 4 years old sat nestled between his arm and chest. My heart practically sank and fell right out of my body and I froze dead in my tracks. No, nothing is set in stone between he and I, but what the hell is going on? Why spend any time at all with me outside of our lessons? Why kiss me the way he did or ask me out to dinner? It’s not like we sit and talk about German for hours over multiple glasses of wine, watch movies on opposite ends of my couch in complete silence, or conjugate verbs while he cooks me Käsespätzle. I’m no fool, I see the way he looks at me…but if he’s married, I want absolutely nothing to do with him. Once I’d gotten over the initial shock of what I’d seen, I was enraged. I decided the next course of action was going to be absolute pettiness. I began heading over in his direction, a gigantic phoney grin plastered across my face as I approach him and his family. “Oh wow, König!” I exclaimed. “Had no idea you and your family also shopped here too.” I said through nearly gritted teeth. “Yes, I’m surprised I haven’t run into you here before.” He smiled, seemingly oblivious to being caught. “I’m one of König’s students, nice to meet you.” I smiled as I turned to the blonde.

“Karina, likewise.” She smiled.

“She’s my Friday evening student, she’s progressing quite well!” He laughed. 

“Ahhh…I’ve heard quite a bit about you actually.” She smirked. 

“I’m sure you have…well I just wanted to come over and say hello. Take care” I said before I walked over to self checkout. As angry as I am, more than anything else, I feel foolish. Of course he has an entire family, and of course she’s beautiful. Good thing I grabbed the big bottle of wine today. The first thing I did when I got home, aside from pour myself a glass of wine, was cancel the rest of my lessons with König before blocking his number all together. I feel so disgusting and betrayed. Why wouldn’t he tell me about her? Was he hoping I’d be interested in being some sort of mistress? Considering this is something that was initiated by me on the basis of “I’m gonna get what I want this year”, this is a little embarrassing.

The thunderstorm brewing outside was the perfect addition to this mess of an evening. About 3 glasses of Chardonnay and 3 slices of pizza later, I still can’t get over seeing him with them. I just feel so stupid. I genuinely thought this could have been the beginning of something…special. As mad as I am, I cannot get over how amazing he looked with that baby in his arms. Considering how patient he is with me during our lessons, I just know he’s probably the most amazing father, but I have to just try to move on I guess. I got up to pour myself another glass of wine when my doorbell rang. Very strange seeing as it’s 10pm and I’m not expecting a visit from anyone other than a brutal hangover, but I’m not expecting that till tomorrow morning. I opened my phone to check my Ring camera before going towards the door. It’s him. What the hell is he doing here? Was today not enough? I walked over to the door, taking a very deep breath before proceeding to open. He’s soaking wet from head to toe. His white, crew next t-shirt sticking to his body, revealing a clearly defined chest and sculpted abs. “What are you doing here?” I asked. 

“You cancelled your lessons…and then I tried calling you and never got through. I thought maybe something happened to you.” He said.

“Really? König, please, spare me the pity party.”

“What? What are you talking about? What pity party?”

“Wasn’t it enough for me to have to see you with her? And then you act as if it’s not weird as hell for me to be interacting with your wife.” I spat. He stared at me for a moment before doing something I never thought he would do. He pulled his mask up and over his head. I stared at him, dumbfounded. I drank him in, assessing all of his features — he’s beautiful. He has a buzz cut, which is different than what I’d always pictured, and a scar the slits through his eyebrow that looks…pretty damn good if I’m being honest. His expression grew soft, mildly amused as he watched me stare at his maskless face. “Schatz,” he said. “That is my sister, Karina, and her 4 year old son Markus.” He laughed. 

“Fuck…” I cursed under my breath. 

“Can I come in please?” He asked. I nodded as I moved aside to let him through the front door. I really don’t know what’s worse, me assuming that the similarly large blonde hair blue eyed Austrian woman standing beside him was his wife, or the outburst I just had. I would crawl under a rock and live there for the rest of my life if I could, because I genuinely cannot handle the embarrassment. I walked over to the linen closet to grab him a towel to dry off. “Thank you,” he said as he put the towel to his face. “Now, what’s all of this about me having a wife?” He asked, smirking knowingly as he clearly already knows the answer. I’m not at all ready to have this conversation, but here goes. “I guess when I saw all three of you, I just assumed that was your wife and child.” I sighed. Looking back, especially now that I’ve seen his face, I definitely see the resemblance between him and Karina. “We’ve been spending a lot of time together after lessons…that kiss last night…I thought there was something between us.” I blushed.

He stepped closer to me. “Of course there is, I asked you out for a reason.” He laughed in mild disbelief. “But I do have a hard time understanding why you would be interested in me…You are so beautiful, too beautiful, but I’m so much older than you and all the things I’ve done —“

“König, I don’t care about any of that. All I care about is how I feel when I’m with you.”

He smiled as he raised his hand up to my face, cupping my cheek in his palm. My heart began to race at the sensation of his touch. “Why do you think she said she’s heard a lot about you?” He laughed. “I help her out with my nephew while her husband is deployed. Admittedly, you are all I can ever seem to think or talk about these days. I am happiest when I’m with you.” I never thought I’d hear him say these things, but God does it feel so good to hear. He leaned down and I leaned upward to close the gap between our lips. I never understood what people meant before when they said they felt a spark when they kissed someone, that is until he first kissed me. I never want it to end, but I also want more and I can tell he does too. He picks me up, effortlessly walking us both over to the kitchen before placing me on the countertop, his kiss growing hungrier and hungrier by the second. My hands sauntered about his torso through his damp shirt. He pulls away briefly to take it off before returning to my lips. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him in closer between my thighs. A small moan escapes my lips as I feel his hardened length push up against my pussy through his grey sweatpants. Fuck, looks like he’s big all around. My pussy weeps at the thought of him splitting me in half with his big stiff rod. His hands slip beneath my oversized shirt, softly massaging and caressing my tits as we continue to kiss, his hips slowly grinding against my sopping wet heat through my panties. Christ. I could cum right here. The motion of his hips alone is enough to send me spiralling out into a fit of intense pleasure. I can’t wait to feel him fill me up, and see the look on his face as he slips into the slick mess he’s created. He begins to roll and pinch my nipples between his fingers as his lips move towards my jawline, slow soft kisses trailing down my neck as I whimper and moan, my sensitive nipples growing harder beneath his touch. I pull my shirt up over my head, allowing his lips access to my exposed chest. His lips continue to trail downward towards my breasts, taking one of my nipples into his mouth, while his hand continues to massage the other. “Oh, König…” I moan quietly as my head falls back, goosebumps slowly decorating my entire body as he takes his time catering to my nipples. “Your body is incredible,” he breathed as he came back up to meet my lips. “I love the way it reacts to me…” he said lowly, his hand trailing along my side until it reaches the hem of my panties. “Oh…I wanna taste you.” he whispered in my ear. I placed both feet on the countertop and leaned back onto my elbows, slowly sliding my panties off and down my legs, flicking them off to the side in one swift little kick. He fell to his knees, spreading my legs apart to admire my sticky wet folds. “Schiße, Schatz…” he moaned as he looked up at me, placing gentle kisses along my inner thighs. “I’m going to make you feel things you’ve never felt before.” He smirked as he planted slow purposeful kisses against my heat. He nuzzled his face between my folds, his tongue lapping gently at the arousal pouring from my tight cunt. “Ohhh…” I moaned out, my hand resting on his head as he picked up the pace, my clit throbbing uncontrollably as his tongue ferociously flicks against it. “Fuck, König…God, you’re gonna make me cum.” I whimpered, legs beginning to shake as his hands held on tight to my thighs, fingers digging into my plush flesh as I squirmed beneath his lips and tongue. He began sucking my clit while his tongue continued to flick against my swollen nub, my orgasm building as I watched him indulge in me, enjoying and savouring every ounce of my sweet juices. He came up for air, licking his lips as he took in every inch of my naked body. “I could eat your pussy all day, Schatz. Fuck, you taste even better than you look.” He praised.

“Now I want you to cum for me.” He said, slowly sliding two of his fingers inside me, his thumb rubbing swift circles against my clit. My back arches up off the counter as the room fills with the loud, obscene noises of me growing closer to succumbing to my orgasm.

He leans over me, fingers curling upward and into that delightful spongy spot inside me. He kisses me slowly as I cum all over his fingers, bringing them to his lips to lick them clean. “Sehr Gut.” He smirks as he pulls away, my eyes immediately drawn to the large bulge in his sweatpants. He pulls them, along with his boxers, down, revealing his long, hard, uncut cock. Fuck…he might actually split me in two. He’s gotta be at least 9-10 inches with a fair amount of girth, and a thick vein that embellishes the side of his length. I sat up as he placed his hands on my hips. “Are you sure about this, Schatz? I don’t wanna hurt you…you’re so tight.” He said.

“Yes, I’m sure.” I said, gently taking his hardness in my hand, slowly stroking him as I held his gaze. “I want you, König.” I breathed as I positioned his thick leaky tip at my entrance. “I’ll be gentle.” He breathed against my lips before kissing me , slowly pushing forward. I leaned back onto my hands to allow him more room to go deeper, his hands resting on the counter on either side of me. “König,” I gasped as he went deeper, slowly thrusting in more of himself little by little. “Am I hurting you?” He asked, expression awash with concern as he takes a brief pause. “No. I want more,” I moaned. “I want it all.”

He smiled, “Gutes Mädchen.” He said, holding my gaze as he continued to push into me, my eyes widening at the delicious feel of his fullness. “Fuck.” I moaned. 

“Mmm, look at you…” he smirked. “Schiße, you take me so fucking well.” He breathed, watching his fat cock slip in and out of me, letting out a guttural moan as he bottoms out. “Mein Got, you’re so fucking tight.” He said as his thrusts began to pick up pace. “So…big…” I moaned as he thrusted harder, eyes glued to mine, basking in my aroused expression as he continued to fuck me. “Harder.” I panted.

“You sure you can handle it, Schatz?” He asked.

“Yes. Please” I begged. He stood up, gently pulling me towards the edge of the countertop, placing my legs in the air, and wrapping one of his arms around both of my thighs before slamming into me repeatedly. “Oh my God.” I cried out, his thick tip kissing the sweet gummy edge of my cervix over and over. “This is what you wanted, ja?” He taunted.

“Y-yes.” I moaned, barely able to speak.

“Aw, what’s the matter, Schatz? Thought you could handle this?” He smirked, watching as my pussy gushes around this cock, dripping down it’s base. His free hand moved towards my clit, his thumb continuing with those hypnotizing circles as he mercilessly pounds my cunt, his face and chest glistening with sweat. I can feel myself about to come undone. “You are so beautiful.” He whispered. I’ve never been fucked this hard before, or taken anything nearly as big as him. I am completely overwhelmed with pleasure in the best way, and the look and his face let’s me know the feeling is mutual. I damn near explode all over his cock, coating majority of his length in my creaminess. He pulled out, I could tell his orgasm was about to follow mine. I climbed off of the counter top and got on my knees, licking my slick off of his shaft before wrapping my lips around the head of his cock. He grabbed hold of my hair and I began sliding my lips up and down his shaft. “Fuck…” he whimpered. “I’m gonna cum.” He moaned. I picked up the pace, sucking him vigorously. I continued until he couldn’t hold back anymore, shooting ropes of his hot, sticky cum down my throat. I held his gaze as I swallowed. “Fuck….” He exhaled, trying to catch his breath as I rose to my feet. He pulled me into him, kissing me hard as we both came down from our high. “That was incredible.” He smiled, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “It was.” I blushed. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

He laughed. “There’s nothing to apologize for, Schatz, especially not after that.”

“Would you like to spend the night?” I asked sheepishly.

“I would love to.” He smiled as he gave me a kiss on the cheek, before scooping me up into his arms bridal style. “Let’s go take a shower, Ja?”

“Lead the way!” I laughed as he headed towards the stairs.

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[wisteria-blooms]

sunburns & dragons (charlie weasley & reader) (1/?) pilot

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

A/N:  Pilot chapter of the Charlie Weasley version of 'long hair & tattoos.' Hastily edited before work so I'll fix things up as I go. I hope you'll like it!

CHAPTER 1: When Lucius threatens to bring Goyle over with the intent of courtship, you fight back. Malfoys never lose, right? 1.9k words

CHAPTER 1: 23, STILL CRAZY

Before you knew it, September had fallen over the Malfoy Manor.

Now, what did a September dinner look like at the Malfoy Manor?

It looked like a long dining table engulfed by the even larger room it presided in. It looked like a warm and gorgeous chandelier, embedded with thousands of crystals, that hung overtop the middle of the table. It looked like the rattling of leaves, threatening to redden and the brown, outside in the rolling gardens. It looked like the velvet sun seeping into the windows, casting frightening shadows on the patriarch’s face.

With every second that ticked by, you felt the last of summer slip through your hands. In a few weeks, it would get darker earlier and earlier until you were dining with your family in darkness.  

“Genevieve’s wedding really was beautiful,” your mother, Narcissa, remarked for the third time today. And the tenth time this week. But who was counting?

You nodded blithely. Of course, it was beautiful. Anything Malfoy money touched, despite how little thought or meaning was put it in, was stained beautiful. Truly, it was something, watching your eldest cousin, Genevieve, marry on the cliffs overlooking the French Riviera. She wore the most gorgeous dress, and her hair was done to perfection, not a strand out of place.

You were happy for her but you had to wonder: wasn’t your own happiness what mattered the most? When Genevieve was holding Maximillian’s hand, saying vows that were too pure and sweet to come out of her mouth, you were sat alone watching. Your eyes would drift everywhere. First, at Draco, beside you, who had brought Astoria. You watched your two littlest cousins, Charlotte and Clara, holding each other and tearing up at Genevieve’s vows. Then, to your cousin, Claude. Claude was Genevieve’s older brother and was clasping his girlfriend’s hand that was perched on his lap. She was probably a soon-to-be-fiancée after this event. Genevieve’s picturesque romance sparked a fever in everyone, including yourself.

And you trudged on alone the rest of the night, nursing your champagne, embraced by only the sweet sea air.

Everything was perfect from start to end. They had perfect weather (cloudless blue skies and sunshine), the perfect people in attendance, the perfect vows, and the perfect dinner, the perfect wine, and—

As much as you hated to admit it, it was bitter to be alone.

Really freaking bitter.

“You should consider a location for your own wedding, (Y/N),” Narcissa, always the optimist, continued. “These venues book up quite fast. Susan’s daughter has been on the waitlist for her choice venue for a year now.”

“The booking isn’t the hard part,” Draco, your little brother by two years, added. “The hardest part is (Y/N) finding a man that can actually tolerate her.”

“That’s true,” you said in agreement, much to Draco’s chagrin. “I don’t think any man is suitable for my standards.”

“Maybe the men aren’t the problem,” Lucius, your father, said through gritted teeth. You had probably evoked some bad memories of you abandoning the gentlemen he’d tried introducing you to at the country club.

“That’s just it, they are the problem,” you shot back. “Money or status doesn’t better a person make.”

“You won’t be holding onto that belief when you inevitably end up alone,” Lucius stated.

“Father, I may have a solution to (Y/N)’s predicament,” Draco piped up. A devious smile spread across his face. “Dear sister, you remember my friend, Goyle, don’t you?”

All that came to mind when you heard Gregory “Goyle” was a sweaty and stout boy with a forehead bigger than the rest of his face. The size of his noggin clearly housed nothing because the thoughts that came out his mouth were puzzling. And any chance of Goyle nurturing his intelligence or academic pursuits was shot down whenever a pretty girl walked by. At least he had quidditch to fall back on. He was definitely a decent beater by strength, rivalling your best friends, Fred and George Weasley. They often complained to you about his dirty tricks on the field.

“I wish I didn’t,” you lamented.

Lucius raised an eyebrow. “His father and I are acquaintances,” he mused. “He would be a decent choice of a partner.”

Goyle? That was the best your family could come up with for you? How low could they go now?

But still, you looked at your father in bewilderment. “You’re not serious, are you?” When Lucius didn’t answer, you continued. “Kiss any chance of intelligent children in your bloodline goodbye,” you quipped, swirling your wine glass around. “Wasn’t like Draco was going to propagate that trait anyway.”

“I would do a better job than you!” Draco retorted, slamming his own glass down. You smiled a bit; you’d broken him with that remark. “If I recall correctly, dear sister, there were some classes you didn’t fare well in, leading to mother and father having to visit the Headmaster personally.”

You flushed red. It was true, everything he said. It wasn’t your fault that it was just one class you couldn’t do well in, no matter how hard you tried.

“Well, if you spent more time reading than sucking off Pansy’s face in the library, maybe you would’ve graduated with distinction, too.”

“At least someone wanted to date me. Or were you snogging both of the Weasleys when I wasn’t looking?”

“That is enough!” Lucius bellowed. He was loud enough to shut both of you up. “(Y/N), this is despicable conversation and I will not have this at my dinner table.” Of course, this was all your fault. And likely, your father’s head was imploding at the thought of you having relations with a Weasley. Any Weasley.

“Yeah, (Y/N),” Draco whispered. “Don’t be indecent at the table.”

“Shut up,” you whispered back, taking a slow sip of wine to regain composure.

“I will personally extend a dinner invitation to Gregory and his family. We will dine here in a fortnight,” Lucius announced.

“What?” you blurted out. You thought this whole thing was a stupid joke. “For what purposes will you have him here, father?”

“I reckon it’s long overdue that the Malfoys officially make allies with the Goyle family,” Lucius stated. “And I’ve been left with no choice.” He was referring to all the times you’d rejected his friends’ sons.

The look on his face was stern. And for once, you couldn’t tell if he was serious or not.

“If even Genevieve can find a partner to spend her life with, then so can you,” Narcissa cajoled. You would’ve laughed at her veiled insult towards your cousin, but the situation was too dire for humour.

Your father couldn’t possibly want you to romance Goyle. You were envious of Genevieve’s fairytale wedding, but you didn’t want that if Goyle was your betrothed.

You felt acid at the back of your throat. You clenched your jaw. Anger was burned your face, anyone who couldn’t see it would be a fool.

“I won’t have it, father,” you stated coolly. You weren’t going to let Lucius, who never lost at anything, win this one. “If the purpose of the dinner is for me to entertain Goyle.”

The tension in the room was palpable; the atmosphere had taken a complete nosedive. Narcissa and Draco remained completely silent.  

“You don’t get to choose everything you want to do in your life, (Y/N),” Lucius gritted through his teeth. “You’ve made a fool of me a million times over because I let you do what you wanted.”

You slumped back in your chair and huffed. Whatever your father wanted, he got. But what if there was a way to circumvent that? The wheels in your head began turning. What if it was improper to have Goyle here in the first place because—

“I’m not sure how my boyfriend would feel about that, honestly,” you said, swirling your wine nonchalantly like you hadn’t told the biggest lie in the world.  

And with that, three heads swung around and fixated on you.

“What did you say?” Narcissa asked, her curiosity visible on her face. “I’m not sure I heard correctly.”

“That I have a boyfriend and I’m not sure how he’d feel if he found out my father was trying to set me up with another man,” you responded.

“That’s impossible,” Draco stated. “You just said there was no man suitable for your standards.”

“In general, yes, of course,” you said. “But he’s different.”

“Who is ‘he’?” Draco asked, trying to get you to perjure yourself.

“Why wouldn’t he have come to the wedding?” Narcissa asked. You were lucky that her sudden interest superseded any of Draco’s questions.

“I wasn’t sure how well-received he’d be around such uptight people like Uncle Theo and the rest of our family,” you said. “And he’d would’ve drawn all the attention off Genevieve, which would’ve been disastrous given her constant need for it. Maybe you could meet him in a more intimate setting, like at this dinner father is suggesting we have.”

Lucius’s lip quirked. “And to what—”

“Advantage you’ll have? If you’re looking to better our family name, I assure you he will do a much better job than the Goyles ever could.”

You were so cool despite your frantically-beating heart that you were impressed with yourself. Who knew that deep-down, you could be a stone-cold Malfoy, too? Fred and George surely wouldn’t be impressed with that revelation.

“Fine,” Lucius finally ceded. “Invite him over in a fortnight. But I must warn you, (Y/N), if you do anything to embarrass the family name…”

“I understand, father,” you responded with your hands in the air. You knew the lecture by heart. “I’ll renounce the trust put in my name, and allow Draco inherit it instead.”

“And we’ll invite the Goyles over with the intention of courtship.”

Lucius thought you’d be upset about that, that it was a good enough threat to put you in line. But you didn’t care. You had the wealth of your own savings and the knowledge that Draco would always be your family’s favourite child. If your parents had it their way, Draco would inherit everything and he wouldn’t have to split it with their failure of a daughter. He was brilliant and golden; you were the runt.  Empty threats like that meant nothing to you.

“You’re a liar,” whispered Draco from beside you.

“I would never,” you shot back. “Just wait and see.”

“Oh, I’m just aching in anticipation,” he said. “To see how badly you’ll embarrass yourself.”

You rolled your eyes, and adjusted your posture on your seat as the main course, salmon and asparagus, was served by Dobby.

When dinner concluded, you ran up the stairs without a look back. When you were certain you were alone and that every single sound-proofing charm was cast on your room, you frantically opened your drawer. You pulled out a directory and slammed through the pages. Names of old classmates and acquaintances whipped past your vision, but no one seemed to fit what you were looking for: a fake boyfriend to get your parents to sod off for the rest of your life.

You were going to wage another Wizarding War if you asked your male friends who were dating or engaged to other women. And any of the boys you danced off at the country club certainly weren’t going to be on your side.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed, slamming the directory shut.

With a heavy sigh, you leaned back again the bed. You would figure this out tomorrow, if Fred and George could carve out some time for you.

>> NEXT CHAPTER

<< CHAPTER DIRECTORY

#charlie weasley x you #charlie weasley imagine #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley fic #bill weasley x reader

[incandescentlysomething]

Lady of the Ashes: Chapter 3

House of the Dragon Season 1

Aemond x TargaryenOC

Chapter Word Count: 3763

She was his everything… For her…he would do anything.

From the moment of her birth, Aemond Targaryen swore himself to the protection of his niece Aelinor Velaryon. As the two grew up inseparable, they find themselves entangled in the Dance of Dragons, battling to stay together even as their families try to pull them apart.

IMPORTANT: Instead of the six year time jump we saw in the show, we're doing a nine-year time jump. I was in no way comfortable building toward future events with Aelinor only fifteen years old. Here is a list of current ages. Aemond: 24 Aelinor: 18 Jacaerys: 19 Lucerys: 15

Let me know what you think!

Masterlist A03

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 P.1 P.2 Chapter 3

Nine Years Later

The citizens of Dragonstone felt the dragon before they saw it. The fishermen working at their boats, the merchants unloading their hauls from the ships, all felt the world swallowed by shadow as the sun above them was blocked out. The first time it happened, as the shadow of dragon wings passed overhead and the heat of the day was blocked, some of them had screamed that it was Balerion, returned from the dead. There had been chaos in the streets.

But now they knew better, and some of them even lifted their arms to wave at the young Princess as she flew by.

Aelinor Velaryon Targaryen laughed when she saw a few scattered expressions of fear below her, pulling hard on the handle to draw Darrax away from the shore. He’d been known to swoop down and steep the catches of unlucky fishermen, but now he was so large that he would destroy everything in his path if he tried.

“Come, Darrax,” she leaned forward to pat his neck. “Let us carry on.”

The girl was a sight to behold, and many people from the harbor and the castle both stopped their tasks to watch her and her mighty dragon turn toward the sea.

Darrax had not slown in his growing, now with a wingspan rivaled only by Vhagar and a body only slightly smaller than that of Vermithor. His obsidian scales sparkled a million shades of blue and green as the light of the sun reflected off of the waves. He was fast, carried by his large wings, and it was easy to see why the people of Dragonstone had shouted ‘monster’ the first time he flew above them.

But he was also gentle, for he had his rider to care for.

Aelinor had grown much since her childhood, though those that truly knew her would have said that she had not changed at all. She wore her hair in a long plait down her back, and it flapped behind her in the wind, a streak of brilliant silver against the sky. Her reins were modified with a single handle, so that she might be able to command Darrax with only one hand. She rarely needed to, however, as the bond between dragon and rider was so close that she could command him with just Valyrian.

“We aren’t fishing today, Darrax,” she called. “Just stretching our wings.”

The young woman had been stretching her wings more and more often as of late, as she found it suffocating to be in the presence of her parents. Her mother was pregnant with her fourth child by Prince Daemon, and while Aelinor wouldn’t mind supporting her mother in such a time, it was difficult to do so without encountering her father. He had been growing ever more persistent in his desire to train her and Darrax, and she was beginning to run out of excuses.

They swept around the west side of the island, keeping low so that they both might enjoy the spray of the sea. If anyone had asked, Aelinor would have said that she went this way so that Darrax might rest on the cliffside that faced toward the west. But Darrax did not need any such rest, and there was only one reason that she always flew west.

This day, like all the rest of them, she looked west and found the skies empty.

Aelinor sighed, too used to the disappointment for it to sting much. It had been a long nine years, with no word save what came through official messages to the Princess Rhaenyra. She knew that Aegon and Helaena had wed, and that they now had two children. She could not imagine that to be a good match, struggling to reconcile the odd and insect-obsessed Helaena with an image of motherhood. Nor was the Aegon that she remembered the type of boy who should have been a father. Aemond…there was little news of Aemond. She knew it was no fault of his own, but she still found herself hoping to hear from him, even after all these years.

Darrax let out a huff, sensing his rider’s emotions, and then he dove.

“No! NO, Darrax! No!” Aelinor’s shouts were silenced as Darrax plunged beneath the waves.

For a few moments she was weightless, and then he was splashing back to the surface, his wings causing great waves around them as he launched himself back into the sky.

Aelinor sputtered and spat out water. She was completely soaked, but she was laughing. “Darrax!” She scolded, though they both knew she didn’t mean it. “You silly creature. Let’s go home then, so I can dry off.”

Darrax pumped his wings, driving himself up and over the cliff, cutting across the island to carry them back to Dragonstone.

An hour later, Aelinor was walking through the halls of the castle. She was no longer wet, though her leathers had pasted themselves uncomfortably tight against her skin. She had undone her long braid, letting her hair fall past her hips. A bath. A bath was what she needed after that sojourn into the sea.

She reached up with her bad hand, grabbing her glove with her teeth and pulling it free. Then she carefully stretched out each of her fingers, looking forward to warm water and bath salts.

“Aelinor,” her father’s voice echoed from in front of her, the man himself stepping out from an adjoining hall.

She didn’t slow her pace. “Price Daemon.”

He didn’t protest her use of the title. He had never been one to argue trivial matters, and he couldn’t care less whether she called him Father or not. For nine years, his eldest daughter had held him at arm’s length, resentment simmering between them like oil in a pan.

He knew she didn’t like him, but he just didn’t care.

“I wish to take you flying,” he fell into step, watching as she carefully tended to her crippled hand. “So that you might learn to—”

“To what? To fly into battle? Against who, Prince Daemon?” She demanded. “My mother might feign ignorance, but anyone can see that you are preparing for something. I will not be brought into your schemes.”

“You are your mother’s daughter, and with that comes specific—”

“Correct. I am my mother’s daughter. And the daughter of the man who raised me,” she didn’t say whom you murdered, though she had been tempted more than once over the years to confront him about the murder of Ser Laenor. “My loyalty is to them, and not to you.”

Daemon let out a scoff, but fell away, and Aelinor did not look back. 

She stepped into the warmth of her bedchamber, finding the bath already full and steaming.

“What did—” A girl stepped out from behind the dressing screen. “Rhaena!”

The two girls had grown closer in the years they had lived together on Dragonstone. Though not as close as sisters, they were dear friends. Aelinor decided not to wrap her in a hug, given that she still reeked of seawater, but she beamed at her cousin.

“I thought you might need it,” Rhaena laughed. “Darrax take you for a swim again?”

Aelinor was already stripping out of her leathers. “Of course he did. He’s positively impish.”

“I wonder where he gets that from,” Rhaena rolled her eyes, watching as Aelinor practically dived into the bathtub.

“It’s so warm. Thank you, Cousin.” They had never stopped calling each other that, all too aware of the boundaries that would be ripped down if they had to acknowledge what they were — sisters. But still, since the marriage of their parents a few years ago, they had been sisters in all but name, and Aelinor was eternally grateful for the female companionship.

“Your mother said that she wished to speak to you,” Rhaena said. “It sounded important.”

Aelinor gave a slight nod, dread already pooling in her gut. She knew what this was about, as did Rhaena. It was the same topic that had been haunting the halls of Dragonstone for months, casting a pall over everything Aelinor did.

“She knows my feelings on the subject,” she finally said. “But she is my mother, and the Princess of Dragonstone besides. My feelings have little relevance.”

Rhaena passed her a cloth, and Aelinor started to scrub some of the salt from her skin. “But shouldn’t your feelings matter? After all, it’s Jace, of all people.”

Rhaena’s expression was genuine, but Aelinor could hear the question she did not ask. Rhaena was, if not in love with, certainly interested in Jace. But it had never been a secret that, to secure Jace’s own place on the throne, he would marry Aelinor. With her pure Targaryen looks, they would be able to secure the claim of any of their future children. In recent months, Rhaenyra had begun making plans in earnest. After all, both Aelinor and Jace were older than Rhaenyra had been when she first wed Ser Laenor.

Aelinor sunk lower into the bathtub, letting the water lap over her mouth and nearly to her nose. She did not want to think about these things. She did not want to imagine having children with Jace, and certainly did not want to imagine what that would mean. Her brother was nice enough, having grown out of the worst of his childhood impulses, but he was still Jace. Luc would have been more agreeable, if he weren’t still a babe in her eyes.

At least she knew Jace felt the same way. They were not suited to each other.

But they would do whatever was required to win their mother the throne.

“It could be worse,” Aelinor sighed, trying to force some levity into the situation. “I could be marrying a Lannister.”

“At least they have gold,” Rhaena smiled. “What if it were Aegon, or worse, that rogue Aemond? When traders come from King’s Landing, they say that his face is—”

“I know what the traders say,” Aelinor snapped, biting her cheek to keep from cursing aloud. “I would like to bathe alone now, Rhaena. If you please.”

It was a dismissal as plain as any, but Rhaena did not fight it. She just said her farewell, stood, and walked to the door.

She should not have let it bother her so. It had been nine long years, and the rift between their families seemed more insurmountable than ever. But there was still that tiny part of her that sprang to attention whenever she heard even a whisper of Aemond. And too often, it was cruel, malicious whispers that her family seemed to take at face value.

The door creaked open, and Aelinor groaned. Gods be damned. Couldn’t she just have one bath in peace?

“Aelinor? May I come in?”

“Of course, Mother,” Feeling no shame at her own nakedness, Aelinor did not open her eyes as she heard her mother glide into the room and take a seat at her dressing table.

“Did you have a nice flight?” Rhaenyra asked, with almost forced politeness.

Aelinor shrugged. “As good as any. But I can confirm that the sea is quite frigid this morning.”

“Then perhaps you should not be swimming in it.” Her mother laughed.

Aelinor sighed, opening her eyes and moving to rest her chin on the side of the bath tub. “Out with it, Mother. I can see that it’s bothering you.”

Say it. Say that it is finally time for me to do my duty and wed Jacaerys. 

But that was not what Rhaenyra said. “Ser Vaemond moves to challenge Lucerys’ succession to the Driftwood Throne.”

“What?” Aelinor sat back. “But it’s settled. Why is Lord Corlys allowing it?”

“He isn’t. He’s been gravely injured in the Stepstones,” Rhaenyra gave her a sad look, appearing genuinely bereaved by the injury to a man they all admired. “Baela wrote. We must make for King’s Landing to defend Lucerys’ claim before the Iron Throne.”

Aelinor’s mouth dropped open. “When?”

“We will leave tomorrow,” her mother stood. “And Aelinor?”

“Yes?” Already her mind was awhirl with everything that this might mean.

“This is…” She watched as her mother searched for the words. “We need to present a united front. We’ll be bringing our dragons, and I…I ask you to remember who your true family is.”

It was both a warning and a scolding, all wrapped up in one. 

Aelinor nodded, and stared after her mother as she left the room.

She sat there for a long time, stewing in the bathwater. There was so much to think about. On one hand, she was more than a little relieved that she was not yet formally betrothed to her brother. But on the other, there was a genuine twinge of fear. She did not want the legitimacy of her brothers challenged, and she did not want their futures left uncertain. It was a settled succession, and Ser Vaemond was risking everything by drawing it into the open.

Her mother’s ascension to the throne would be questioned if her children were declared illegitimate, and Aelinor knew she would not be immune to that. She might look more Targaryen than Jace and Luc, but it was plain to see that she was not the daughter of Ser Laenor. Gods, this could ruin everything.

But, there was one thing that stood out above all else. 

She was going back to King’s Landing.

She was going back to Aemond.

King’s Landing

“Get up!” Aemond snarled at the squire in front of him. “I thought you were here to train, not lie on your back like a whore!”

The boy scrambled to his feet, wiping mud off of his cheek. “Yes, my Prince.”

Aemond sighed. There were many young lords looking to squire for him, and so far none of them had impressed him at all. Most weren’t even worth using as training fodder. He had to give the Blackwood lad some credit — at least he hadn’t started crying yet.

“Keep your sword up,” Aemond rolled his eyes. “And maybe you’ll be able to stay upright.” It was as close as he would get to offering advice.

“Prince Aemond!” A voice called.

Aemond looked toward the walkway, seeing Ser Criston hurrying down the steps. “What is it, Cole?” He did not have much patience for his mother’s lackey, having always found Ser Criston to be a bit…well, if loyalty could be a fault, then it certainly was in Ser Criston.

Cole stopped, offering a curt nod that could perhaps pass as a bow. “Your mother The Queen bids you attend her. She is in her chambers.”

“Wonderful,” Aemond couldn’t imagine what his mother could have to say. He loved her well enough, and she him, but they never had much use for each other. She often scolded him, calling him too wild, too unruly, and yet he knew he did not get half the scoldings that his brother did. “Take care of this one.”

Ser Criston stared at the Blackwood boy in disdain, but nodded, shedding his white cloak and setting it away from the mud. 

Aemond sheathed his sword, removing his gloves and hurrying toward the stairs. His boots splashed through the dir, and he saw many curious eyes turn his way.

Only once he was inside the castle did he slow to a walk, making his way toward his mother’s chambers. He passed many groups of lords and ladies, all of whom bowed in greeting, but he did not acknowledge them. They weren’t with his time.

A group of ladies-in-waiting gathered by the stairs, meaning he would have to walk straight past them. He recognized one of them by her red hair: the Tully girl. He thought her name might have been Myria or Myra or something like that. She had been presented at court a few months prior, with it plain as day that her family was angling to make a match between the two of them.

Now, as she had when she had first seen him in the receiving hall, she did not meet his gaze, bobbing a curtsy without ever looking him in the eye. He hurried past, hearing them erupt into giggles when they thought he was out of earshot. 

It was always like that. Why shouldn’t they laugh at the maimed prince? He was practically a circus attraction. All he had to look forward to was a future married to some random lady who couldn’t look him in the eye, let alone work up the courage to speak to him. He tried not to let it bother him, after all, they weren’t worth his time.

His chambers were in the same tower as his mother’s, and he passed the closed door of his room as he knocked on her door. “Mother? You sent for me?” A maid swung open the door.

“Yes, Aemond,” his mother was seated on the sofa, his niece and nephew playing with a maid on the floor in front of her. “You can all leave us.”

Aemond stood with his hands behind his back, quirking a smile at his young niece as she was carried from the room.

“Sit, Aemond,” Alicent sighed. “We need to talk.”

“You make it sound very serious,” he dropped into the chair across from her. “How may I help.”

He swallowed nervously. Was this to be it then? Was today the day that he would be officially tied to one of the sycophants roaming around the castle? Gods, don’t let it be the Tully girl. Someone with some backbone, at least.

“I called for you because I think this is something that should be entrusted to your skills. You  know the dragon keepers better than anyone.”

That did catch his attention. “The dragon keepers? Is something wrong with the dragons?”

Alicent sighed again, and he realized suddenly that his mother looked worried. More worried than he could ever recall seeing her, except that day when he had lost his eye. Even his father’s declining health had never caused the dark circles that now surrounded her eyes, and he could see that the skin of her nails had been picked until it bled.

“The Princess Rhaenyra is coming to make a petition,” she said finally. “She brings with her all of her children, and all of their dragons. The Dragon Put must be made ready for her and her hoard, and I must prepare a feast and a ball and all the like.”

Aemond felt his mouth go dry. “Her children? All of them? It couldn’t be. It seemed almost impossible. Nine long years had passed since…since…

“All of them,” his mother confirmed. “Which is the other reason I needed to speak with you.”

More likely, it was the only reason she had asked to speak with him. Subtlety was not his mother’s strong suit, and there was no reason the dragon keepers could not be briefed through a simple message. She had wanted to speak to him about his half-sister’s family, in person, for a reason.

Alicent leaned forward. “Aelinor will be with them, Aemond. But she is not the girl you remember. It has been nearly ten years, and you must remember who she is, and who you are.”

“And who is that, mother?”

“You are the legitimate second son of the King,” Alicent said. “And she is the bastard daughter of a false heir, who has spent nine years being fed their lies and derision, far from any realm of reason. The Aelinor you knew is gone.”

Aemond tensed. “That seems….Father has settled his succession, and we should not—”

“I am not here to argue succession with you, Aemond!” His mother snapped. “I want to be sure that you understand. When they enter this hall, it must be us, and it must be them. The fate of our family may very well depend on it.”

He knew that the succession crisis was constant fodder for the King’s critics, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Blast the Seven Kingdoms, and damn the succession. He didn’t care if his half-sister or her bastards, or his own damn brother ascended the throne. He disliked them all equally. All he cared for was Aelinor.

“Besides,” his mother sat back, fanning herself weakly with her hand. “She is betrothed to Jacaerys.”

“What? Jace?” Aemond spat, unable to contain himself. “Why have I not heard of this?”

“They haven’t been to court to announce it.” Aliecent sighed. “Knowing Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon, Jacaerys has almost certainly bedded her already. What better way to secure their line?”

“That Strong boy will never—”

“Watch yourself, Aemond. Please.” His mother waved him away.

He didn’t want to draw out the conversation longer than necessary, and quickly stormed from the room. His mother had certainly achieved her objective, which was reminding him why he hated Jacaerys Velaryon so deeply. His own chambers were only a few doors away, and once he was there, he flung open the window and screamed into the open air. He didn’t give a damn if everyone in the courtyard could hear him.

For nine long years, he had stared across the sea toward Dragonstone. He had requested this chamber specifically because it faced south. And for the first few years, with decreasing frequency, he had begged his mother to grant him permission to fly that way. To where Aelinor was. To…he wasn’t quite sure what he had wanted to do. But he hadn’t wanted to leave her alone.

And now they had given her to Jace. Jace did not deserve her. That Strong boy did not deserve to breathe the same air as her.

Or, did he?

It had been many years since he had seen Aelinor, and she could have changed. She could be different to how he remembered her.

And she might not…

No, he wouldn’t let himself think about that. The truth was staring him in the face, the rage settling into his bones with every seething breath he took. Jace did not deserve Aelinor, but then, neither did he. He was just the scarred second son, after all, and she should be the lady of some great house. He wasn’t jealous, he was concerned for his childhood friend, who had been treated so carelessly by her family.

Given to Jace. He cursed aloud.

Still, his gaze drifted to his writing desk, and to the small box that sat in the top drawer. It had sat there for almost eight years, waiting.

And it had all been for nothing.

#house of the dragon #hotd #game of thrones #got #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #lady of the ashes #fanfiction #fanfic

[neontoad]

“Here!”

Dazai is grinning from ear to ear, proudly showing Chuuya a handful of chestnuts he’s collected from the ground, and this is such an unexpected view, that Chuuya has to do a double take. 

He’s not mistaken. 

Dazai is smiling. 

A chestnut falls on the ground, - no wonder, Dazai's hands are overflowing with them, - and Chuuya picks it up, his eyebrow raised with scepticism.

When he reluctantly agreed to hang out with Dazai after a mission, he didn't expect him to start running around under a chestnut tree like a rabid squirrel, collecting chestnuts with such zeal as if they were no less than precious diamonds.

“You id-”

Chuuya doesn’t get to finish the sentence. His eyes meet Dazai’s, and the uncovered eye’s shine is hypnotic, its colour perfectly matching the chestnut’s, the dull colour turned into a rich hue of brown Chuuya’s never seen before.

On second thought, collecting chestnuts doesn’t look like such a lame idea. 

They start frequenting the park, and every time their pockets get filled with chestnuts, and their hearts with warmth.

Suddenly, autumn is not about gusting winds and rainy days anymore. For Dazai, autumn is about the fiery foliage of the trees that complements Chuuya’s hair so beautifully, and even though clear skies are a rarity in this season, Chuuya’s eyes are blue enough to make up for it. 

For Chuuya, autumn is about the deep brown of chestnuts, the colour he never knew was so warm - as warm as Dazai’s hand in his, as warm as the way he looks at him with timid adoration, as warm as the lively spark in his brown eyes. 

For them, autumn is about prickly husks leaving scratches on their hands, hot chocolate in paper cups, and sharing an umbrella on a rainy day, and always, as years go by, it’s about collecting chestnuts. 

It’s always about chestnuts. 

Their first kiss under the chestnut tree when they were 16. Their first “I love you” at 17 as they were lying on the grass, breathless, after relentlessly bombarding each other with chestnuts, smiles on their faces lighting up the gloomy Yokohama sky. 

Autumn is about chestnuts, warm hands and love.

Until it’s not. 

Chuuya is 18, and he doesn’t go anywhere near the park anymore.  

Seeing chestnuts in the grass doesn’t feel like a treasure hunt, but rather a bitter reminder of what he used to have. Frankly, he’d pay all the money in the world to cut down every single chestnut tree in this godforsaken city. 

Autumn is a shit season, if you think about it. 

Years pass, but Chuuya still can’t bear seeing a certain shade of brown. Much to his annoyance, it’s everywhere - in the colour of his desk, in the leather of his car seats, in the fallen leaves in the puddles of water on the ground. 

When he sees that shade again - the shade, as he looks Dazai in the eye in the Port Mafia dungeon, he tells himself he didn't miss it. He tells himself the colour doesn't look even more striking now that he can see both brown eyes looking at him with such longing, that he even lets himself reminisce for a split second.

One day they are heading to the ADA office after a joint mission. They aren’t speaking - they don't have anything to talk about. Not anymore. With the corner of his eye, Chuuya sees a familiar tree - it grew taller, but the way its leaves show off their autumn dress is the same as it used to be when they were younger. Before Chuuya knows it, Dazai is gone, running toward the tree with his trench coat comically fluttering behind him. Chuuya just rolls his eyes. Such a manchild. 

“Here!”

Dazai is grinning from ear to ear, his hands are full of chestnuts, and the way he’s showcasing his treasure to Chuuya wakes something up inside of him. Something that was dormant for so long. Something that he, deep down, missed so much.  

“You idiot,” Chuuya mumbles, intently looking at Dazai’s lips.

The chestnuts fall on the ground. 

It feels like their first kiss all over again. It’s chaste. It’s sincere. It’s perfect.

“Can we start again?” Dazai whispers into Chuuya’s ear, his warm embrace defeating the chilly September afternoon. 

Autumn is about forgiveness, warm hands and love.

Autumn is about them.

Autumn is about chestnuts. 

It’s always about chestnuts. 

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #skk #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #soukoku #fluff #mini fic #teen skk #autumn #chestnuts #a little angst but they are okay #falling in love

[romanoffsbish]

Unconditional Kind of Love

Natasha Romanoff x Stark!Reader (afab)

Pronouns: She / Her to They / Them

Request / @mostlymarvelsstuff was my guide. 🥰

A/N: Hello angels!!! So I worked on this fic with an insider to guide me, and I just wanna be transparent here and say I did my best to navigate the struggles one goes through when in such a closeted space. But I also know, from experience, that the title non-binary isn’t one size fits all. Some afab individuals label themselves nb, go by they/them then still remain outwardly feminine as that’s how they wish to present themselves(identity and expression aren’t mutually exclusive). So, I know not everyone who is nb detests wearing dresses. I chose to just write this from the perspective of someone in an ever changing headspace. However you exist is valid, but for the sake of this fic I tried to just keep with the flow of understanding oneself/coming out.

Warnings: Coming Out (Fear/Grief)

It was a beautiful morning; the birds were chirping, likely grateful for the clear blue skies the budding Summer had afforded them. The bright sunlight was slowly filtering into your room through the cracked open blinds as time tediously passed on by. Lines of otherwise unseen dust were now illuminated as they flickered throughout the air. There was only the soft sounds of snoring as you laid there, your lover on your chest, it was relatively perfect.

There was no visible reason for you to be feeling this low, but immense dread had settled deep in your stomach as you read through an email.

Stark Charity Gala Reminder:

Hey honey, I had Happy leave a few dresses for you to try on, please let me know which one you prefer, and I’ll have it tailored to your needs.

You didn’t know how to tell him your needs were based on the disappearance of said flowy fabric…

—

Sure, you could tell him, but you were paralyzed by your fears that he’d expect it anyways. That your comfort wouldn’t come before business, so you chose not to mention it. As progressive as the world has become, you know your father works closely with some wealthy men, most of whom were up there in age; in your experience they weren’t all that big on the changing times.

This wasn’t always how you felt, but as of late, you’d really felt an aversion to the expected attire at your father’s many various events. In your day to day you could wear as you pleased, which is really just whatever attracts the least attention. Unwelcome comments on your appearance only ever made you feel more removed from reality.

Your father meant well, you know he always did, but it didn’t change the fact that he was not the most attentive person, and therefore still saw you as the little girl in tutus chasing butterflies around the garden as a nanny tended to your needs.

Which truth be told hadn’t been the case for most of your adolescence, it had only started weighing you down though in the more recent years. Everyday you woke up to have your identity invalidated in simple ways, and with that came chipped away pieces of your soul. This unsettling feeling came with the territory of being closeted, you remember it well from when you initially dealt with your sexuality, and coming out hadn’t been any easier. If anything, it’s only become harder.

To look into your aging fathers eyes, and tell him that the person he knew was never the real you was daunting, and was something that made you think suffering in silence was the better choice.

You’d already lived a long many years as Y/N Stark—Tony Stark’s eldest daughter, and you didn’t exactly know how to be anything but that in an outwardly sense. It was all a bit intimidating, and so you lived in this cycle where you would build yourself up to speak your truth, only to lose the confidence when faced with the chance.

While being so deeply in your thoughts you failed to notice the woman on your chest moving about. The beautiful woman who’s held your heart in her very hands for years now, the same one who hadn’t a clue what your inner turmoil’s were like. Natasha was as understanding as they came, you knew deep down that she’d love you all the same, but the crippling fear of rejection never allowed you to utter the words, “I’m nonbinary.”

You’d yet to even speak them aloud, instead they swirled around your brain, amongst the waves of self doubt, being swept beneath the currents of ‘It’s safer to pretend,’ and ‘We can’t lose her…’

Natasha was staring up at you with a sleepy smile, the sun had fallen over your face it allowed her to gaze into your eyes in a way she normally couldn’t. The one tone color suddenly became intermixed with complementary ones, and in the moment she thought you’d never looked more mesmerizing. But her sappy expression soon melted into one of worry the longer she stared.

“Good morning,” she raspily greeted, a smile retaking up her face as she sat up to level her gaze with yours, “What’s on your mind my love?”

In a panicked move you surged forward, hoping to use your lips to distract her from pushing further, and it seemed to work as she let you guide her backwards until she laid flat on her back. You kissed her with urgency, as if her lips were enough to heal all of your broken pieces, and in a way that is exactly what happened. The turmoil returned to its vault, where it would likely live another day unsettled, but it would be okay, just as long as you had Natasha by your side.

“Breakfast,” you hummed as you slowly pulled away from her lips, staring down at her with a cheeky grin, and flexed brows. Natasha snorted, “You should’ve woke me up then baby, let’s go!”

Once you both entered the kitchen your lover dropped your hand so she could make her way over to her first love—the Nespresso machine.

“Lady Y/N!” Thor bellowed, startling you with his sudden emergence, “Would you like a poptart?”

With a wide smile you nodded, accepting the sugary breakfast from the God, but once you turned around to face the drink counter your expression sullened, and Natasha noticed.

Natasha always noticed you. It’s been hard to keep up with you with her influx of missions, but she’d been around enough to know it’d been months since the light in your eyes faded out. In the privacy of your shared room you seemed content most days you spent together. A light flickered within your eyes in those moments. But now, it was as if you were living on autopilot as you moved through the kitchen, she watched you with a stoic mask as she sipped on her coffee.

“Squirt, can you pass your old man the salt?”

You genuinely smiled at him, and did as asked.

“Tony, are you serious? It was right there.”

“Yeah, well it was closer to her Pepper, sue me.”

There was a subtle tick in your jaw, nobody else saw it, but the redhead, also known as The Black Widow, the top spy of her generation, noticed it. A frown befell her face, one she masked with her mug as you approached her with swift steps.

“Hey Natty,” you greeted her with a kiss to her cheek, “I’m going to go take a shower, and get some work done while you’re in your meeting, but I’ll be sure to find you for lunch with Yelena.”

Natasha stopped you with a hand on your hip, she jutted her lips out expectantly, and you gave her exactly what she wanted with a soft kiss.

“Get a room!” Tony shouted with a grimace, and you chuckled against your lover, you didn’t have to see to know her hand behind your back held a middle finger up for your father to interpret.

When you walked away Natasha’s head began to spin with reasons for your dropped mood, but she came up empty and vowed to herself that she’d figure it out somehow. All she ever wanted was for you to be happy, and she would wade through hell or high water to ensure you were.

—

A grunt of displeasure left your lips as you kicked your mini wastebasket across your shared room. You were barely able to keep it together, it was clear Nat was onto you, and it’d only been two innocent in nature comments from oblivious men.

“Get it together Stark,” you grumbled before settling down at your desk to work on a project for Pepper as you’d been her assistant since Nat. A few frustrated tears stained your papers, but fortunately they only held data for you to key in.

After an hour and a half of half assed work you pushed away from your desk and waltzed into the en suite so you could finish crying it all out. You spent another half an hour under the water quietly sobbing until the heat faded into cold, then you cleaned up and clambered right on out.

In a matter of seconds you selected your outfit from your side of the closet, and slid into it. You’d settled on a pair of olive green khaki pants, with a black, button up shirt tucked into the bottoms. Your hair was slicked back, giving it a shorter appearance, and that made you feel giddy.

Yelena was expected to arrive at noon, and as you glanced at your clock you realized you only had a few minutes before, so you applied a thin layer of chapstick to your lips and made your way down to the living room where you found the pair discussing who knows what with your girlfriend.

Natasha heard your shoes scuffle against the hardwood of the hallway, her heart skipped a beat as you approached her with a reserved smile. One she would never tire of seeing, and she quickly pulled you into her side with pride as her sisters girlfriend was left to gawk at you.

“Kate Bishop, this is Y/N Stark, my sister’s long time girlfriend, and heiress of Stark Industries.”

Kate smiled nervously, hand trembling as she reached for yours, “Nice to meet you Y/N, I-wow, you look rather dapper if you don’t mind me saying so.”

Time stood still for a moment, you’d been so used to the compliments of others irking you that you weren’t used to this euphoria upon hearing something outside of the usual beautiful, or pretty. Natasha bit her tongue, she had a moment of understanding once she saw the way your eyes momentarily sparkled at the woman.

“Kate Bishop!” Yelena snarked, “Y/N is a —.”

Before the blonde could ruin the highlight of your year you raised a hand, effectively shushing her, “Thank you Kate, it’s lovely to meet you as well, you look dazzling in your sundress, it suits you .”

Natasha glared at you playfully, and you smiled back at her knowingly. “Hello gorgeous.”

“Hello my love,” she made sure not to comment on your appearance. A part of her felt guilty for not noticing the signs sooner, but it melted away as you kissed her tenderly, as if the prying eyes of hazel and chestnut weren’t right there.

“Disgusting,” Yelena gagged, “Let us go eat!”

“Ooh!” You clapped, “Where are we eating?”

Yelena hesitated to answer you, she knew your teasing would likely ensue, “Applebees…”

“Why?” You looked at the blonde with a smirk, “So you can have a Kraft kids meal?”

“What I’m ordering is none of your business!” She shouted, voice cracking as she did with her buff arms now crossed over her chest in defiance of her obvious predictability. “For your information, cyka, I love to have entertainment with my meals, you guys are too boring.”

“Oh, so the crayons do it for you?”

“Yes!” Yelena threw her hands up as if this was the most obvious answer, “There’s tic tac toe, word search, and coloring. With you two it’s just googly eyes, and talk of how work went.”

“Yelena, your girlfriend is coming too.”

“I know,” she whispered like she was telling you a classified secret, “She’s a little boring too…”

“I don’t know,” you spoke rather loudly, “Kate doesn’t seem boring to me, she seems fun!”

Yelena glared at you, then ran towards the car after shoving you into a tree. Natasha quickly helped you to your feet, raising her brow at you in subtle judgment, you shrugged. “So worth it.”

Natasha shook her head, “Yeah, until one of you kills each other, then I’m down a lover and sister.”

A smile of appreciation broke out on your face making the redheads heart flutter, for another moment in time you both just stared at each other as if the world had stopped orbiting the sun. But it was short lived as the hot ball of gas shrieked from the backseat of Nat’s corvette.

“Hey Poser! And Poser’s stupid GI Joe doll, hurry the heck up! Some of us have worked up mega appetites this morning you know?!”

Natasha looked to you in horror, but fortunately Kate was quick to quell her worries as she gingerly walked by the tree, “Yeah, we went on that five mile morning hike, I’m truly famished.”

“Slava Bogu,” Natasha murmured in relief in her mother tongue, her hand then slid perfectly into yours so she could now walk in stride with you.

(Thank God)

—

By the time the two of you returned to the compound you were exhausted. Lunch turned into a day’s worth of fun after Yelena begged the two of you to go mini golfing with them as well. As much as you enjoyed teasing the blonde, you also loved her to pieces and knew how exciting and new being in America was for her. So even if you wanted to say no, you truthfully wouldn’t. You could tell Natasha felt the same way when she looked at you for permission to agree to stay.

It was only 8pm, but the two of you snuck off to your room after hurriedly eating the stew on the stove Wanda had left for you two to reheat. After a joint shower, and a quick bedtime routine you found yourself snuggled into the redheads chest as an unwatched movie played on the screen.

The longer you laid there in her arms, replaying the day’s events while listening to the rhythmic beat of her heart the more you began to feel your anxieties melting away. Natasha had shown you time and time again that she loved you, and there wasn’t much of a question on if she’d continue to. The way she looked at you at lunch told you she knew enough, and when all she did was run her hand over yours tenderly before turning to scold her sister you knew you were giving the looming dread far too much power.

Natasha could feel your tears seeping through her shirt, but she didn’t say anything, she only held you that much tighter as she hummed a lullaby. You let out all the pent of frustration with each tear released, most directed at the world for putting you in such a predicament, some at yourself for all the years you lost hiding, and the rest for the family you still worried might leave.

“Natty?” You sniffled, “Ca-can we talk please?”

Natasha reluctantly let you out of her grasp so you could both sit up, the redhead sat against the headboard while you settled in the center of the mattress with your leg crossed over the other.

“What’s the matter my love?” Natasha’s tone was softer than normal, it also sounded like she was on the verge of tears herself, and that honestly terrified you. Maybe she was going to end things if you said what you planned to, but before you could shame spiral once again, you finally lifted your head up from your lap and looked into her glistening eyes, and you knew she wouldn’t.

“I-um,” you began to fiddle with your hands, nails picking at the sensitive cuticles until the redhead clasped her hands over yours. “It’s okay, you can tell me when you’re ready baby, there’s no rush.”

You knew that was her subtle way of saying she knew, and the fact that she wasn’t tossing you out of what used to be her room was the final confirmation you needed to speak your truth.

“I’m non-binary!” You blurted the words, and as you let them pass your lips for the first time a healing cry shortly followed. Your body racked with sobs, and Natasha pulled you into her lap.

Natasha coo’d, “I’m so proud of you baby,” she rocked you softly, and held you incredibly tight, “You’re so strong, and I’m so lucky that you trusted me with this, thank you so much baby.”

“W-we’re okay?” Your trembling voice and lip broke the redhead's heart, a tear finally fell from her eyes as she understood just how scared you were of her reaction. “Yes, we’re fine my love.”

Her lips pressed to your forehead reassuringly before they found their rightful home against yours. “You’re my soulmate Y/N, I love you for who you are, and I promise that’ll never change.”

A few beats of silence fell before anyone spoke again. “What does this change for you love?”

“I’m still figuring it all out Natty, but I,” you took in a deep breath to calm your racing heart, “I’d like to start going by they/them pronouns, and I don’t want to wear dresses to my dads stupid galas.”

Natasha chuckled softly, “That’s easy enough.”

“I don’t know how to tell him Nat, I’m scared.”

Natasha cupped your cheek, her thumb running across your cheek tenderly as she stared into your eyes. “I am with you every step of the way.” She pressed a firm kiss to your lips to seal her sentiments in completely. “I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

“What if it isn’t?”

Natasha shrugged, “It will be,” she smirked softly when you pouted. “Because, if he is anything but understanding I’ll just hack into his suits again like when he tried to say we couldn’t date.”

When you laughed unabashedly Natasha knew she’d done all that she was able to here. If Tony, or anyone for that matter, had anything negative to say when the time came, she’d handle them accordingly. For now though, all she wanted to do was hold you impossibly close, until you never questioned the strength of her love for you again.

——

2,975 Words

❤️ Kaitlyn 🥹

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff fic #natasha romanoff fluff #gxg #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #black widow imagine #black widow x reader

[523rdrebel]

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5, Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Chapter Summary: Omega and Wrecker's plan unfolds. The family wanders the Life Day Festival and feelings are brought to a head.

This chapter is mostly from Crosshair's POV. His internal thoughts will be identified by Italics without quotation marks.

Rating: T, SFW

Warnings: None

Crosshair divider by Snotbuggle, Star and Moon Dividers by Saradika

Desi and Isabella had intended to have a leisurely morning with brunch and preparations for the upcoming Life Day Festival. But things rarely go to plan.

They instead got caught up in the frustrating intricacies that came with romantic relationships, and had yet to leave Desi and Taayo’s sitting room. Desi was thoroughly enjoying Isabella’s recounting of her encounter with Wrecker and Omega, “Clever girl!” She laughed boisterously, clapping her hands together in delight, “I’ve had half a mind myself to lock the two of you in a room until this little issue is solved!”

“These things aren’t that simple and you know it, Desi.”

“I wouldn’t mind a chance to clock him one in that smug face of his, though…For hurting you.”

“Desi, he didn’t… It wasn’t his fault.”

“I’m not talking about the chip.”

Isabella sighed, running a hand over her face, “I don’t blame him for wanting space. I just– I wish he would talk to me.”

“I’m still not convinced he can talk…”

“Desi!” She let out a startled laugh but recovered quickly, “I just think, maybe I shouldn’t go at all. I’m not convinced Omega and Wrecker haven’t devised some scheme to force Crosshair and I to be alone…”

“You’re blushing.” Desi waggled her eyebrows, then wrapped her arm around Isabella’s shoulders, giving a soft, reassuring squeeze, “Look, Izzy– I don’t see the problem here. Just wear the dress and go to the Festival! If the man can’t handle you being at an event that will span a majority of the bottom two levels of the city…”

Isabella rolled her eyes, “I don’t want to push him further away, Desi. Besides– maybe he’s right. Maybe I did treat him like a project– What if I was wrong?”

“Stars and Skies, Izzy! You are going to the Festival and if that man doesn’t kiss you like some holo-period-drama protagonist I will wring his neck myself!” Her tone left no room for protest and she stood, grabbing Isabella’s hand and dragging her towards the door. “Come on! We’ve got preparations to make and then I’ll help you get ready!” Desi paused, shouting across the house, “Taayo! We’re leaving!”

“See you later, darling! Don’t get Izzy into too much trouble…again!” He had a gentle voice that always sounded like he was on the verge of laughing.

“Spoil sport!”

They spent most of the day running around frantically to and fro with Desi barking orders like a military sergeant, and Isabella happily assisting. It was a wonderful distraction, she had no time to worry about the coming evening or what to do about a certain grumpy someone, instead her thoughts involved how best to place decorations for maximum festivity and keeping Desi from injuring herself in her dramatic rushing.

Now that Desi and Isabella were in her home, they’d taken turns in the ‘fresher, washing off the sweat, dust and dirt from their day. The quiet calm of a full day was hanging over them with an undercurrent of nervous excitement.

“Alright Izzy, which dress did you say was his favorite?”

“Wrecker said the blue–”

“Well? Put it on!”

“Desi–”

“Nope! No second guessing! Go–”

She loosed a fond, if exasperated sigh, Desi hadn’t steered her wrong yet so she put on the dress. It was a lovely cornflower blue embroidered with stylized golden stars that sparkled when she moved. It had long flowing sleeves and a rather daring neckline, a sharp v that ended just below the bust. She twirled in front of the mirror and couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. The last time she’d worn it, she’d been wandering the market with Desi and Taayo and had run into Omega and her brothers. She tried to recall if Crosshair had shown any sort of outward reaction to signal that he’d liked the dress, but failed. He was too good at hiding and she was too afraid she’d been wrong.

“Oh! At least he’s got taste… Brings out your eyes.” Desi hugged her shoulders from behind, “If this doesn’t knock that scowl off his face– then he doesn’t deserve you.”

Isabella reached up and squeezed her friend’s hand gently, “Thank you.”

She returned the soft smile, winked, and whispered, “Now, lets go catch you a stubborn-ass sniper!”

Wrecker didn’t bother knocking, Tech had already deactivated the lock so he burst into Crosshair’s home with a wall-shaking bellow, “CROSSHAIR!”

He groaned in response. He stood uselessly before his meager clothing options, still in just his comfortable lounge pants, his recently grown out white curls mussed from running his hands nervously over his head. A toothpick sat securely in the corner of his mouth, which he chewed absentmindedly.

Wrecker continued to bellow as he entered, followed quickly after by Tech, “Happy Life Day!” They were both dressed in the nicest clothes they owned, comfortable and light, but certainly better than what Crosshair felt he had to offer. Why does it matter what I wear? I’ll just sneak away at the first opportunity…

“You are not dressed.” Tech remarked flatly.

“Figured that out by yourself, did you?” Crosshair snarked, rolling his eyes.

“It was a simple observation.”

“Come on Cross! Omega and Hunter are waiting for us!” Wrecker looked quickly over Crosshair’s clothing options, humming loudly to himself and wiggling his fingers as he made his selections. “AHA!” He tossed the items at his brother, who caught them mid-air with a scowl, “Put those on and let’s go!”

It was a simple outfit, a loose black shirt of comfortable, breathable cloth, and a pair of dark patterned pants. Crosshair shrugged and began to dress. At least it’ll be comfortable. He added on his simple boots and grabbed his gundark leather jacket he’d filched on a supply run– nights got cool on Pabu. He sighed, schooled his face into an unaffected mask, and followed his excitable siblings out the door.

“Izzy! Izzy! Izzy! Are you ready?” Omega was bouncing up and down, blond curls bouncing wildly. Hunter leaned against the wall outside, amused smile and soft gaze trained on the energetic little girl.

“I’m coming, ‘Mega!” Isabella called, voice bright with laughter. She took a moment at the door, taking a few steadying breaths and steeled herself for what was sure to be an interesting night. Omega’s eyes sparkled and she gasped, “You wore the dress!!” She clapped her hands excitedly and Hunter chuckled, a deep amused rumble. Isabella could’ve sworn she heard him mumble, “Cross is a goner…” But she chose to ignore it.

“Of course I did! You asked me to.”

“Come on! I told Wrecker to meet us here–” Omega beamed at her then grabbed her hand and started pulling her toward the street. Hunter followed quietly after.

Only moments later they heard the bellowing, joyful laughter of Wrecker, then saw the trio rounding the corner towards them. Wrecker had one arm around Crosshair’s hunched shoulders, practically dragging him along as they walked. Crosshair’s scowl was deep but there was the tiniest hint of humor in his eyes. He stopped short, eyes locking onto Isabella like a target. His scowl deepened and the whites of his eyes flashed with something, but it passed too quickly to identify.

He looked good. Really good. Isabella couldn’t deny that fact anymore than she could deny the warm blush growing on her face nor the painful clenching in her chest. She sighed, took a deep breath, and plastered a smile on her face, for Omega, she reasoned.

“Crosshair!” Omega exclaimed, full of mirth, then grabbed his hand and pulled him along towards the lower levels of Pabu. Crosshair grumbled, “What’s the rush, shortstack?” Hunter tried and failed to hide his chuckle at the sight.

It was a long and awkward walk, at least where two of the group were concerned, Isabella kept trying to sneak looks at Crosshair, attempting to gauge if she’d made things worse by agreeing to come with them.

Crosshair scrunched his face, trying to hide away from everyone but being in too public of a place to hide. He couldn’t keep the tiniest curve of his lips from showing at Omega’s bright enthusiasm, though he rolled his eyes and made snide remarks.

Omega led the charge into the festival running towards the bright lights and festively decorated tables, then raced back towards the group to chatter in wonder and excitement. There were colored lights everywhere, booths were filled to the brim with handmade goods and decorated with a festive, Life Day flare. It hurt Crosshair’s eyes, all the gaudy, colorful items, the whimsical recreations of historical figures in fanciful Life Day garb, the happy, wide toothed grins of the towns-people. Ugh… 

Omega grabbed Crosshair’s hand and pulled him towards a table, “Look Crosshair!” She pointed at a wooden carving of a Tooka wearing a red festive hat. He rolled his eyes, but she had already run off to the next booth, excitedly exclaiming about a holopicture projector of a snowy planet. He sighed, picking up the Tooka figurine and placing credits on the table with a scowl. The merchant raised an eyebrow but, wisely, kept silent. After nearly an hour of this, Crosshair’s hands were full of items Omega had pointed out before running off to the next shiny thing that caught her eye.

“Those will look great in your home, Cross. Goes great with the decor.” Hunter elbowed his side, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

“Keep it up, Hunter. All these are going to your place. And at least half of them are noise-makers.”

Hunter’s smile faltered every so slightly, then walked quickly off after Omega, “No more gifts!”

Echo joined the group for a while, wandering the festival with them and chatting with Hunter while the others browsed the tables. There were game booths set up periodically, which Echo and Wrecker took turns doing with Omega. They had some sort of competition going, but Crosshair didn't pay enough attention to know what it was.

Crosshair tried not to stare as Isabella wandered the stalls, making small talk and surveying the items.

“You look stunning this evening, Izzy!”

“Thank you! Omega picked it out for me.”

“Oh! Smart girl!”

Hunter chuckled, “You could just talk to her, you know…”

“Stay out of it, Hunter.”

“Maybe if you weren’t staring at her like a love-sick Akk-pup, I would.”

Crosshair made a disgusted noise, pushing past Hunter with a forceful push with his shoulder, and stalked away. He pointedly ignored Hunter’s laughter.

Eventually, Wrecker stopped at Daisy’s stall, full of all manner of baked goods and scenting the area with the comforting aroma of fresh bread. He stayed there, grinning happily, as Daisy regaled him with a story and he listened with rapt attention. Echo had wandered off at some point, speaking animatedly with someone about his work with Rex. Next was Tech, getting into a rousing debate with Phee and a few other history and culture enthusiasts at a stand promoting different cultural holidays similar to Life Day. He’d be busy for the reminder of the evening. And finally, Omega dragged Hunter away, his arms now laden with the gifts Crosshair had acquired, to play with Lyana and Shep, leaving Isabella and Crosshair alone.

Crosshair scowled, he knew that Wrecker and Omega had set this up, knew that they expected there to be some sort of resolution, but he felt too lost. Adrift in the swirling emotions he’d been trying to force into containment under the shell of anger and fear. He had tried to keep his distance, tried to ignore that she’d chosen to wear the dress he felt most closely fit her. She was beautiful, he wouldn’t deny that. He groaned inwardly, This shouldn’t be this hard! Just stay away. She’s just a person.You’ve never liked people anyway.

They walk slowly and in silence, observing everything, neither willing to break the ice quite yet. Crosshair’s eyes land on the constructed bar area, where they were serving festive spiced drinks. To him, that looked like an escape. He wasn’t prepared to face Bells yet, wasn’t ready to see the hurt in her eyes again, wasn’t ready to remember the guilt and the anger. He was quite content to wallow, thank you.

The bar had been prepared with four specialty Life Day drinks: the Fuzzy Tauntaun, Jedi Mind Trick, Outer Rim, and Yub Nub. He scoffed at the silly names, but grabbed one that looked the least festive and most appealing and found a silent spot in the corner against the bar.

Isabella followed him, but kept her distance, she was at a loss at what to do. It seemed obvious that Crosshair didn’t want her here and she didn’t think that a productive conversation would be had in such a public setting. She couldn’t hide her disappointment, she had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that Desi would be right– "Ugh, it’s not a holo-film Izzy! Don’t be so stupid!" She whispered under her breath. She grabbed a drink as well and took a healthy swallow, taking comfort in the burn. She was too antsy to sit still so she ambled around the area, sipping her drink and ignoring the swirling emotions and the intense presence at the corner of the bar. She walked, she mingled, doing little more than greetings and small talk, some small part of her wishing she’d just stayed home, despite the eager insistence of her friends.

Crosshair watched as Isabella wandered the area, talking and drinking, she was a natural in a social setting but he couldn’t shake the feeling that her smiles were dimmer and her eyes did not carry that familiar warmth. What would you know about it anyway? He chided himself internally, You didn’t want her around, you don’t actually think she misses you? The alcohol did little to improve his mood, but he sipped at it anyway.

Now Isabella was chatting with some tall man with a sickly sweet smile, Crosshair tried not to listen.

“Izzy! Or is it Bells now? I’ve heard someone calling you that now, I think.”

“Oh, that’s Crosshair’s nickname for me actually.” Was that regret he was hearing?

“What, he too good to call you Izzy?” Try me, Di’kut…

“Uh- He’s a little stubborn. But I don’t mind, actually, I like it.” 

“Should I start calling you Bells too, then?” I shouldn’t be jealous. You aren’t even mine.

“That’s alright. Izzy will do.” Kriff… I need to leave.

“He gets a special nickname? What if I called you…Bella?”

“Absolutely not.” That’s interesting. Is she mad? “You can call me Isabella or Izzy–”

“What’s wrong with Bella?”

“Call me Bella one more time, Mr. Keis.” Damn, Bells…

He found himself standing and crossing the distance between himself and the pair, standing behind her glaring menacingly before he’d really registered he’s moved.

“Uh–Maybe I should go…” Mr. Keis cleared his throat, gave a half hearted smile, and practically ran away, “Later, Be–Izzy!”

Crosshair’s heart was racing, the pounding loud in his ears when Bells turned around, her face flashing with shock and relief?

“Crosshair–” The way she breathed his name broke something in him and he panicked, turned on his heels and walked away, seeking shadows, desperately searching for a place to be alone. The eyes of everyone he passed burned against his back, ears ringing and pounding, drowning out any other sounds. He was oblivious to the figure that followed him.

He finally stopped in a small decorative garden area, it was shadowed and quiet, without a soul in sight. He stood rigid, breathing heavily, with his head leaned back facing the starry night sky.

A soft voice tentatively called his name and he squeezed his eyes shut, he wasn’t ready to face her. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be.

“Cross– You don’t have to say anything, but I just, I need you to listen.” He stays silent and doesn’t move. “I don’t blame you for what happened.”

He turned to face her, face stuck in a pained expression. She reached out a hand, but stopped short of touching him, “Wait– Just listen. Please.” Isabella took a deep breath, then words started spilling out, “You didn’t hurt me. It was the inhibitor chip. I watched you fight it, and I was terrified– not of you but for you. And then when you woke up, you shut me out and I was hurt and confused and angry. I thought…” She stops, voice shaking and eyes full of emotion.

Crosshair couldn’t look away. He wanted to run, wanted to shut the world out again, like he always did, push the feelings down where no one can touch them. I thought if I’d pretended not to care, then I wouldn’t.

Isabella shivered, the night had taken on a sharp chill, and she crossed her arms over her chest for warmth. She continued, speaking softly, “My brother joined the Empire, you know…They bombed our city, our parents died, and he joined them.” She laughed, an empty humorless sound, it was not a sound he associated with Bells. “I was…away when it happened. I didn’t even know about it until nearly four cycles after the funeral. He was changed. He tried to get me to join them too, but I refused. He got angry and…we both said things we shouldn’t have and I ran. What I wouldn’t give for a chance to talk to him again.” Tears flowed freely down her face and Crosshair ached to wipe them away. Her eyes pleaded at him and she whispered, “What I wouldn’t give to talk to you again.”

He sighed, his fists clenching and unclenching, and he started to pace, “You don’t understand. You don’t know what it’s like to lose control of your body–your mind– Two voices and both of them feel right and both of them are me. One says Follow orders! Eliminate the threat the other says, This is wrong.” He stopped pacing, shook his head, then pointed one finger painfully against his chest, “My brothers left me behind because I chose it. But I hated them for it. The choice… it was right. I knew it was. The Empire was going to fix things, to fix me.” He ignored the tears streaming down his face, grimacing against the emotions that were finally being released, “But it was a lie. Everything I thought, everything I believed was a lie.” He faced Bells straight on, meeting her eyes finally, “Now you look at me and tell me how I’m supposed to know what part was the chip and what part was me? How am I supposed to trust myself? How am I supposed to–”

She took a chance, closing the distance between them and taking his hands in hers, he did not pull away, “Crosshair– You are not to blame for the actions of the people who made you.” The silence spurred her onward, “Here’s how I see you: strong and capable, and a bit of an ass.” He chuckled despite himself, and she continued, “You care deeply, even if you hide it behind harsh words and sarcasm, and you’re incredibly smart. You are more than what they made you.”

The earnest feeling behind her words slammed against his heart painfully, “Don’t you ever get tired of being so fucking nice?”

She shook her head, “You want me to be mean? To yell at you? To hate you?”

He growled, all his frustration bubbling to the surface, “Why? Why can’t you just give up on me?”

“Believe it or not, Crosshair– and brace yourself, this may come as a shock– I actually like you. Specifically you.”

“You like everybody…”

“Not everybody, but most people, yes.” She places one gentle hand on the side of his face, “Is it so hard to believe that I care about you?”

He leans into her hand, eyes falling shut, but the silence stretches, so she speaks again, desperation clear in her words, “I will respect your wishes if you don’t want to see me again after this, but I–I miss you. Maybe I’m naive. Maybe I’m soft. And maybe I shouldn’t, but I did think that kiss meant something…”

“I…don’t know how to be what you want, Bells.”

“And if I said you already are?”

Silence. Hesitance. A knowing sense that this will change everything.

"What do you want from me? I wasn’t made for this…" Crosshair was confused, uncertain, never before had he been faced with such a strange and intimate challenge.

"Because it's not what you want or because you're a clone?"

He sighed, groaning inwardly, Leave it to Bells to read between the lines so clearly.

She placed her other hand on his face, pulling him down to look at her directly, "I don't give a damn what your makers claimed your purpose was. They made you, but they're gone now. You're here. You're alive. You can choose!"

"And how the kriff am I supposed to know how to do that!?" He pulled away, the feeling of her hands on his face burning the shape of her fingers into his memory. He turned his back to her, breathing heavily, "My whole damn life has been orders and structure, fighting and surviving!" He turned back towards her sharply, "And what about you, huh? You talk about freedom and choice–" His tone was sharp, accusatory, "What do you want?"

This shocked her, her eyes darting around in confusion, "Me? It-It doesn't matter what I want, Crosshair!"

"Wrong answer, BELLS."

"Cross–"

"No! Stop trying to be nice. I want you to be selfish!" His long strides brought him back to her space, leaning over her, begging her, daring her to answer, "What about you? What do you want?"

She let out a string of curses, of which Crosshair would later be impressed, anxiously shaking her hands at her sides, "I–" she started pacing back and forth, then comes to an abrupt stop once again in front of Crosshair, "I want you." It was a simple admission. No frills, no questions.  Crosshair was silent, unsure what to say, frozen in place. Bells started speaking again, a rush of words spilling out, "I’m drawn to you, Crosshair. In a way that I’ve never been drawn to anyone before. I want to spend all of my time with you.  I want to make you smile, or better yet, make you laugh. I want to paint and hear you snark that I've gotten more paint on myself than on the actual canvas. I want to kiss you– Damn, I want to have you kiss me senseless and to quiet your past when I can… hold you when I can't. I want you safe," She closes her eyes briefly, "even if it isn't with me." 

He slowly gets closer then gently reaches his hand up to cradle the side of her face. He laughs, deep and rough, "Kriff, woman! Even when you're being selfish you can't help but worry over someone else." He paused, feeling her lean into the palm of his hand and in that moment he decided to try to stop running, if this was where he got to stay. "Kiss you senseless, huh?" His mouth curled upward in a challenging smirk.

"Please…" He needed no further encouragement and his mouth crashed into hers, finding it blessedly soft and eager. His tongue runs over her lips and she whines, opening her lips to allow entrance. He grabbed her firmly around her waist, pulling her close and running his fingernails across her back. He pulled away from the kiss, smirking down at Bells, taking in her hooded eyes and kiss-swollen lips, "Begging already?"

"I could always yell at you instead," she smiled then leaned up on her toes to catch his bottom lip between her teeth. 

"Maybe later." He leaned back in, capturing her lips once more, taking his time with slow, languid kisses.

Bells responded eagerly, hungrily, kissing him back with a fervor he never would have expected. Her hands explored his back with soft, gentle touches, caressing his form with reverence. It mesmerized him and he nearly lost himself in the moment. He pressed kisses along her jaw, eliciting bubbling, joyous laughter.

“I KNEW IT!” Wrecker’s voice boomed from behind them and Crosshair’s head shot up, fixing his boisterous brother with a withering glare. Wrecker laughed loudly, and started typing on his wrist com unit. The pair separated reluctantly, standing side by side, with Bells leaning into his side. Crosshair wordlessly removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

Moments later, all three of their com units began dinging with notifications.

GETWRECKERED: <3 Found Crosshair! Aaaand Izzy! <3

BanDADna: Ugh Finally!

Echoohc3: You all owe me 50 credits!

TECH-nically: I will mark this day on the calendar.

CrissCross: I will kill you all.

DrSunshine: No he wont. <3

Ye Olde taglist:

@anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @starrylothcat @secondaryrealm @arctrooper69 @sev-on-kamino @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @dystopicjumpsuit @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @sunshinesdaydream @followthepurrgil @yubnubhub @jediknightjana @dangraccoon @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @echoxbuggs @trixie2023 @ezras-left-thumb

#rebelwrites #Suflowers & Blasters #Crosshair x OC #OC - Dr. Isabella Ramót #Grumpy & Sunshine #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #Rebel Writes #Sunflowers & Blasters #Sunflowers and Blasters #crosshair x oc #Crosshair x “Bells” #Crosshair x Dr. Isabella Ramot #Star War AU #star wars #the bad batch #tbb #tbb crosshair #tbb Omega #Slow Burn #Sibling Meddling #tbb wrecker #chapter 9

[ms-scarletwings]

A Speculative Analysis About Irkens No One Asked For: Part I

Dem green fellas. Them lil guys, they’re an interesting pack of critters, aren’t they?

I used to really fixate on them back in middle and high school, stronger than everyone else seemed to be on the spazz in the dog costume. Jhonen Vasquez’s worldbuilding has always towed a very fine line between nonsensically ridiculous and surprisingly logistical, and this balance is typified in everything we know, and can infer, about these bug-eyed imperialists at the center of everything Invader Zim. So, let’s infer, and take a crack at it since no one’s stopping us anyway- More specifically, some thoughts and ponderings I had about how they “tick” as a fully realized society, not just a sci-fi monster..

A Homeworld Obscured 

Now, to really understand the history and “deal” of any civilization, or any animal, usually you would turn to their environment first to give you some handy clues and context.

Small problem, though: We actually don’t get much in the way of direct, explicit showing or explanations about Irk itself when it comes to the show. This makes some sense, given that the whole of what they do worth showing (and the most notable members of their kind) exists almost entirely off-world. So instead, we mostly find out more about Irk from what Invader Zim does tell us about its natives. As far as confirmed canon goes, we know that Irk’s atmosphere appears red, its surface is entirely and densely urbanized, and it’s long been depicted in starmaps with a set of Saturn-like rings. 

  This last fact is probably the most interesting, because planetary rings are usually something we, in our own little solar system, would only associate with massive, gaseous worlds, not terrestrial ones.  What These rings are made of is really anyone’s guess- could be ancient debris from natural satellites, Water-ice particles, maybe even some form of artificial defense network put into orbit by the Irkens themselves. If they aren’t artificially created, this would suggest that Irk has quite a strong gravitational field- greater than that of any of our neighborhood’s rocky planets. This is the common theory I personally like to subscribe to, because it would also go hand and hand with explaining why the average height of the irken race is so much shorter compared to that of an adult human. It fits neatly into the “why” question for the sort of athletic skill and agility we’ve seen invaders able to demonstrate on Earth, too, for otherwise being of meek physical prowess. It even adds some credible context for why the very achievement of growing to a more substaintial height is both uncommon and associated with extreme survival fitness to them.

A Fun fact that’s about to be relevant: “Rayleigh scattering” is the term given to when light wavelengths become shifted and scattered through an atmosphere medium. Long story short, it’s the reason our sky has color to it during the day. Stay with me on this.

I’ve also seen some people take a go at the red-looking surface, guessing a different gas makeup than the elements on earth responsible for our blue skies. I’m gonna go against the grain here, and actually contest that. I think that Irk’s atmosphere is coincidentally extremely similar to Earth’s. We know well enough that they both have a similar composition of gases breathable to both societies, given that Zim, Skoodge, and Tak all seemed pretty comfortable without some form of assistance on the same dirtball as humanity. Instead, I propose that Irk’s magenta skies are actually the symptom of heavy pollution. Sunsets and sunrises in the real world are known to make the sky appear more reddish-orange, even pink, as is. Usually, Rayleigh scattering has the light From the sun appear bluish in full midday, but during low sun, the rays are coming at an angle making them have to travel farther before reaching us, so you have already stretched light waves getting the same treatment from the air and, well, a higher frequency blue turns down to the lower end of the spectrum, red and yellows.

And wouldn’t you know, air pollution can actually do the same thing. THIS is why there's a scary ass orange haze known to accompany the presence of massive forest fires and volcanic eruptions. Earth’s most polluted cities even experience longer and redder sunsets for the same reason. 

Left: Image of a lilac sky over a Chinese city experiencing heavy smog levels Right: Intense red haze spotted over towns in Indonesia in the wake of rampant rainforest fires

On Earth, Zim stared directly into the midday sun without hesitation, nor concern that it would literally blind him. I think the planet hue and this is plenty enough to guess the likely case that Irk’s surface probably doesn’t get a lot of direct sun on an average day as is, and the sheer amount of unbroken cityscape that covers the homeworld would be the more obvious suspect than just having a more distant star from them. If they overcrowded to the point of their expansion, why build their civilization deeper into the ground, instead of up? Maybe there's actually a good reason or two they don’t raise their young topside.

A Psychology Molded for Domination

As well, I want to chirp about real world space again for a second. So, anyone up to the buzz in geek circles and aware of the math on the matter probably got the memo: humanity is almost matter-of-fact certainly not alone in this sandbox of a universe (or at the very least, we won’t always be alone). Like, about as certainly as we were about Black holes’ existence before we up and observed the real thing. And while it’s probably not going to happen in any of our lifetimes, sci-fi and media generally have been trying to take a crack for years at what the theoretical first contact with an alien civilization is going to look like. 

And I’m gonna go ahead and say it, 

As “cliche” and Hollywood as the conquering little green/grey dudes trope might have become… it’s actually not a wild take after all. The little and green thing, that’s creative liberty, but the part about them being hostile and something we may not actually even WANT to be aware of our existence? That’s an idea that even the smarty pants experts have been fearing the realistic odds of, even including the late Stephen Hawking .

The Evolution of intelligent life is a hard thing to really pin down and predict, given that we literally only have the one example to study. Under the right conditions, what reason would another advanced species NOT have to be equally as expanding, as exploitative of its resources, self-destructively short-sighted, and as supremacist as humans have already demonstrated themselves to be capable of? There is a lot of very interesting literature that suggests BOTH empathy/altruism and or aggression/tribalism to be (at least in the short term) very rewarding characteristics for an intelligent social species to develop.

And that’s the thing about the behavior of the Irken Armada I think has always been fascinating. Their drive to be the biggest definitionally invasive species across the cosmos is framed exactly as irrational, bumbling, and pointless as it deserves to be; however, is it not just the extended conclusion of every empire that has existed here on Earth, if only it had survived long enough to achieve the technology of Irk? And yet, it’s reminiscent, like the rest of their design, to the far from sapient, yet very real world creatures they appear to be most inspired by: hive and colony building arthropods. Whether the next point I'm about to touch on should be seen as a rejection of that resemblance, or further elaboration of it is anyone's to answer.

Transhumanism, or.. Transirkenism, in this case?

Like the specifics of what Irk really looks like and how it realistically works, a bunch about the aliens’ physical biology is left to scattered tidbits to ponder and piece together into a bigger picture. A few of those tidbits are as follows, drip-fed to us over the course of aired and scripted but never released episodes:

+ From the mouth of Vasquez himself, it has been confirmed that Irkens lack any form of reproductive organs. Instead, they rely on industrialized facilities to grow and produce them in a factory sense.

+ Yet curiously, they still demonstrate something akin to sexual dimorphism, or at least the cultural existence of masculine/feminine genders, where females are aesthetically set apart by the presence of curled antennae, eyelashes, and higher voices.

+ Irken lifespans are able to stretch far past that of an average human’s (Zim himself is cited to be around 2 centuries old in earth years).

+ Invader class soldiers have been implanted with surgical upgrades to their eyes.

+ Every Irken is fitted with a PAK that serves a wide array of utility and life-sustaining functions for its owner. These units are physically and neurologically connected into an Irken’s spine from “birth” and contain a cybernetic backup of an individual’s personality, assigned occupational programming, and memories. 

That’s not close to a complete list by any means, but it’s got the gist of what I want to dwell on most, starting with the last bit; because the PAK isn’t done true justice in one statement. It is not an extra addition the way a prosthetic enhancement is, and it is not a tool the way armor and weapons are. It is literally analogous to a vital organ to these aliens, and they are shown to die within 10 minutes of being forcefully detached from their own.

The degree to which Irken bodies and minds rely on this technology, and how seamlessly they are integrated into it, ALONG with their completely artificial life cycle all directly points to the fact that their civilization has advanced into a cyborg-like stage of evolution. It may even be on track to reach a post-organical peak in due time, phasing out more and more of their “vestigial” and feeble meatsuits until they’ve become a true drone army. And that actually begs some huge questions now that we realize we will never know how much of the Irken anatomy was ever originally a natural feature. An Irken’s own brain practically comes secondary to the superior efficiency of the supercomputer on their back, capable of literally holding their own essence and being in the form of code. A code that can preserve the “self” even in the event of meatbody failure, being uploaded post-mortem into the Control Brains’ collective data and repurposed for a future generation of workers. It absolutely would stand to reason that the species has continued this biological self-tampering to other heights- extending their lifespans, incorporating untold amount of mechanical upgrades into their bodies, and maybe even genetically engineering their smeets to be so compatible with this technology.  The control brains themselves are a mesmerizing reflection of this change over time- the result of an evident shift long ago from technology serving them, to them serving the directives of computers. When you really pay attention to the control brains’ role in the series, it comes clear to you who (or what) is really in charge of their society. The Tallest still maintain their symbolic/cultural importance to the Irkens, but outside of their part in spearheading the active intergalactic invasion, they ultimately are figureheads when it comes to actually running the homeworld and ruling the lives of Irk’s inhabitants. If I had to bet money, I would say the Brains may even have the ability to choose and predetermine the next Tallest when a replacement is needed. But what does that make the Tallest? A meaningless title and transformation, chosen arbitrarily by the AI overlords? Well, I don’t think so, actually… but maybe that, and more on the “meaty” morphology of their race is all a tangent fit for another day and post ;)

#invader zim #irkens #long post #sci fi #iz fandom #scarlet talks about things #oh boy here i go hyperfixating again

[gayerthanevertbh]

the way i loved you.

pairings | natasha romanoff x reader

summary | you saw her with someone else. while on her side, it’s a whole different story.

warnings | cheating (is it though...), a little angst, and huge fluff at the end.

notes | idk i don’t want to update anything so enjoy this little one-shot for now!

masterlist

She knocked on your door at two o'clock in the morning, screaming your name with the rain pouring down heavily from the sky. Baby, I love you. Come on, open this door. Don’t leave me out here! She says, more like a cry for mercy with a mix of help. You were in the kitchen, looking through the small window, and see her being so desperate with her hair to damp from the rain. She banged on your door twice, then calls out your name with a choking sob.

Your heart breaks from the sight of your girlfriend crying, almost kneeling on the ground with so much strength that she has left. It all felt so unrealistic and like a dream, a hazy fucked dream. You don’t know if you were meant to see that, but it almost felt like you were made to see it. She was holding another woman’s hand at a jewelry store; you can see the way her eyes glimpse with happiness as she looks at her fingers, it almost seems like she was about to kiss the woman’s hand. And when she turned her head to the side, she catches you fleeing away – and you never turned back.

“It’s not what you think, Y/N! Please–It’s not what you think,” she closes her eyes and keeps smacking her hand on the door with her shoulders slumping; your heartaches and wished your damn self to open that door. Instead, you watch. She wiped her teary eyes and continued to slam her hand on the door. “I love you, just come here and let me explain…Please? Please, baby?”

This continued for five minutes until you couldn’t help it anymore and swoosh the door open as you can feel the rain prickling onto you. She stands there with a helpless look, her hands holding them together like a prayer. She starts muttering out words with a sob: “Baby, don’t leave me. It’s not what you think, I promise you it’s far from what it looks like!”

“How can I believe you?” you say, almost scoffing at your words. Instead, you wrap your hands around her body like a bear and continue to watch her sob for her goddamn life. You yelled with a breaking voice, “You’re sleeping with her, aren’t you? You’re cheating on me!”

“I swear I’m not, baby. Please, just listen to me. Wait, please don’t close the door.” Natasha shakes her head in a frantic way and rummages through the pocket of her leather jacket. You can hear the way her breath shakes, trembling with the fear of losing you in just one blink. As soon as you try closing the door, her other hand holds it and brings out a red box. You raised your eyebrows in confusion, what was the box that had to do anything with your fight with Natasha?

“What are you–”

“This is the ring that I bought for you,” she whispers, her eyes glued to yours as you can see a faint smile smothering her face. She opens the box, and you quietly gasp at how glamorous the ring was. It was shining through your eyes as you can see the full detail of the diamond ring that was shaped like an emerald cut. It was small – just how you always liked it – and beautiful, like how the bright blue skies are whenever you’re walking downtown New York. Natasha gets on her knees and wipes her wet cheek, her hand still holding the ring. “You know I kept my promise, Y/N. Y–You know I’ll marry you…So marry me. I bought this today for you, that’s why you saw me with the girl. I promise you detka that I’m not cheating on you.”

“Natasha–”

“Marry me,” she asked with a shaky voice as her eyes were full of desperation and need, the want of her just holding your hand and slipping that ring on your finger; screaming to the world that you’re finally hers. You watch as she brings your hand and kisses it, whispering once more: “Make me the happiest wife in the world, please? Marry me, baby girl. I can be the best wife you’ll ever have. I won’t do any reckless shit since you always worry for me, I don’t even have to go out drinking with Steve anymore! That’s okay, I’ll stay with you. I’m stuck with you, remember?”

Remember, you always remember that. You both vowed together that in every aspect, you were stuck with her as well as she was with you. You could feel your heart thumping loudly through your ears by the memory of it, the look on Natasha’s face when you answered her to be her girlfriend. She never left you, she was faithful. So, it made you feel stupid to even have the audacity to call her a cheater – you felt terrible about it.

“Stand up, honey,” you tell her gently as you help her stand up, almost catching her when she’s about to trip. But she kept her body straight as her head was lowered down to look at you, the ring still visible in her hands. You almost don’t even want to wear it being so beautiful and sparkling in your eyes, you felt awful. “Natasha, I shouldn’t have called you a cheater. I’m sorry, I feel so stupid.”

Natasha laughs through a sob and shakes her head, her other hand placing it against your cold cheek as both of you are now under the rain together. It felt like a movie where two lovers reunite again and make love under the rain. It’s romantic, it’s thrilling through your bones. You leaned against her palm and kissed it, almost making the redhead’s knee tremble from the simplest kiss.

“Say yes?” her voice was full of hope and fear that you might turn her down due to the fact that you’ve seen her with a girl that was completely out of context. You close your eyes and imagine the life that you would have if you married Natasha. And it hits you. It hits you so deep that it makes your heart beat so fast to the idea of walking down the aisle, seeing her so happy and giddy. And you imagine children too, of course, you have to carry it. She’s happy enough to even adopt a child, you both agreed on that a few months ago.

So, you gave her a nod, a nod that made you cry with joy. And you’ll never forget the way Natasha smiles all the way up to her cheeks that she carries you with a twirl, almost slipping off the ring on her hand. Once you are back on the ground, she slips the ring to your finger and kisses your hand once more; whispering breathlessly: “You’re going to be my wife, I’m so excited.”

You nodded and pressed your forehead against hers, feeling her breath onto your chapped lip. Then, you slip your hands to her neck and close your lips together. She was stunned at first, but had her arms around your waist as you kissed her with all the might you had left. With the kiss that you gave, it was basically you just said: I’m never letting you go. And you won’t, you know that you can’t. If you must exaggerate, you cannot live without her; and boy, she can’t as well.

And that’s the way you loved her.

“Gonna be the prettiest bride for me?” she asked, cupping both of your cheeks with a smile with her pearly teeth; you can feel her tears still dripping down from her eyes, and you wiped them with both of your thumbs on her cheek. You nodded but rolled your eyes playfully, responding to her question: “I’m always pretty for you, right?”

“Of course, honey. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever laid my eyes onto.”

With that simple reassurance, you were hers.

thoughts? <3

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha angst #natasha romanoff fluff #black widow x reader #black widow x you #a's oneshots!

[tagsecretsanta]

From @tracybirds

From @tracybirds to @thundergirl007

Tobogganing + John + Things don’t go according to plan

Content Warnings: Discussion of grief and missing people at Christmas.

“I thought you said you’d done this before,” grumbled Penelope as they trudged around the township. “I was led to believe tobogganing involved less wandering around the shops and more sliding down mountains at breakneck speeds and fracturing a leg for your thanks.”

“There aren’t any real mountains around here, Pen,” said John absently. “And I don’t understand why all the sleds we keep seeing are so small.”

“Toboggans.”

“Sleds.”

Penelope sniffed, burrowing her gloved hands deeper into her coat pockets in an effort to keep out the cold. “I just would have thought the ‘sled’ was already available for use if you were planning to invite me to partake in this hare-brained adventure.”

“I don’t set up hare-brained adventures, we’ve just hit a minor bump in the road.”

“You call a missing toboggan on a tobogganing excursion minor?”

“You call a simple hour sledding an adventure?” Penelope pulled a face and John laughed. “How come you’ve never gone anyway?”

“I told you,” said Penelope. “My parents didn’t believe hurtling down mountains trying to get yourself killed was a good source of entertainment. You’ll find we never went skiing either.”

For a moment it was as though the world stopped spinning, leaving him hurtling on with no solid ground beneath his feet.

“Oh,” said Penelope. “Oh, I’m sorry John, I didn’t think.”

“It’s fine,” said John. He felt a million miles away, he felt every square inch of fabric against his skin, and maybe it could be alright if he could just convince his lungs to breathe.

Instinct took over and he turned on his heel, starting to babble his excuses.

“You’re right, this was a waste of time,” he finally choked out and turned on his heel.

“No, John, it’s not, it’s–”

He didn’t hear the rest of her cry, drowned out by the hustle and bustle of Christmas shoppers and the blood that was pounding in his ears. His ragged breath caught in his throat and he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the pavement in front of him. He knew that if he allowed the world to distract him for even a second, the tears would fall, tears he’d cried a thousand times in his lifetime but that never seemed to run dry.

John hated that they were always there under the surface.

His comm pinged, but he ignored it, not in the mood for clumsy apologies or stammered explanations. He knew he was being over-sensitive, but then it was Christmas and his mother was dead and if there was ever a good reason to be touchy about a subject, this would be it.

Everywhere he looked were families, complete and untouched, with mothers who were alive and fathers who stayed.

And brothers who came home.

His lungs constricted as he tried to breathe through the pain, blindly collapsing onto a bench, assaulted by a new memory, formed only last week when he’d called to say he wouldn’t be going home this year. He’d already known the reaction, knew he would dismay them all with his selfishness, but he couldn’t fly to that humid, tropical island where they’d cut their mom out for good.

At least here, in the snow, he could pretend to be somewhere she loved.

John sucked in a breath through gritted teeth. It wasn’t the same as Dad, he told himself. No-one could argue that Oxford terms weren’t intense, that the vacations and half-terms weren’t loaded with assignments and readings and more besides.

Still, Alan had cried.

He pulled out his comm, wincing at the missed call from Penelope. She hadn’t tried again. Instead, he pulled up the photos he’d been sent of their new home, the sparkling blue of the ocean and the verdant green overpowering in each image. The vibrancy nearly hurt to look at in the monochrome street, all whites and greys. In every photo there was life and love, and John felt small and sad and alone.

“He isn’t back yet?”

Penelope’s voice floated out of the crowd and John froze. He half wanted to hide, half desperately wanted to reach out to his friend, but instead he didn’t move, hardly daring to breathe.

“No, Scott, I’m sure, he was heading back to you. Yes. Yes, I know. I checked the usual spots along this route.”

John furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of the words. His brother ought to have been asleep on the other side of the planet. Penelope had never held any qualms about approaching him after an upset before; they’d had disagreements and missteps between them plenty of times in the past without needing a mediator.

Penelope sighed.

“I’ll head back to his flat now, then,” she said. “I’ll try calling him again when I get there.”

A few minutes later she walked past him, briefly glancing at him as she walked past the bench. He saw it the moment she realised who she’d seen and raised a hand, mouth twitching into a weak smile.

“Hey.”

“John Tracy, where were you?” she cried, hurrying to his side.

“Just here,” he said, feeling bemused. “I didn’t want to go home.”

Penelope pulled him into a crushing hug. “I’m so sorry, John, I–”

“Get off, Penny,” he muttered. “It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine, and both of them knew it, but John couldn’t stand to hear apologies when most of his misery was his own fault.

“I wish I’d gone to island,” he confessed. “I know it’s too late, and I shouldn’t have been so stubborn.” He checked the time. “Christmas will be over by the time I get there.”

“Oh, John,” said Penelope, hugging him once more. “You should have said something.”

“Better late than never, right,” he joked, but the words fell flat between them. He sighed. “It just feels like all Dad wants to do is forget about her. And everyone else is just going along with it.” He scuffed his shoe, listening to the crunch of snow against concrete. “I know it’s what got her killed, but she really did love this stuff. Dad might blame himself, but we’d have never gone if it wasn’t for her.”

“The things that your mother loved about this world isn’t what killed her, John,” said Penelope gently. “It was an accident.”

“It’s not like that’s any better,” snapped John. He bit his tongue, filled with immediate regret. “Sorry, I’m… sorry. I hate that island and I hate that there’s no snow and I hate that she didn’t get any say over any part of it.”

He huffed, drawing his coat tighter around him.

“And worst of all, I know she’d have loved it there. Just as much as anywhere. And my family’s all there, and sure they’ll miss me, but at least they’re together.”

Penelope didn’t say anything and the two sat in silence, shoulder to shoulder and watching the world as it hurried on by, eager to leap from preparation to holiday.

“Come,” said Penelope, dragging John to his feet. “Let’s go back. We can have hot chocolate and watch a Christmas movie together. I know it won’t be the same, but at the very least you won’t be alone.”

“I don’t feel like celebrating, Pen,” said John.

“Who’s celebrating? This isn’t a party, it’s a quiet evening in with friends.”

John huffed. “With you, that’s practically an open invitation for a party,” but he smiled all the same.

She caught his hand with hers and dragged his arm over her shoulders, so that they walked together in calming harmony.

By the time he stepped across the threshold, the warmth had begun to flicker once more in his chest, and the evening no longer felt too close around him.

Penelope flung herself onto the couch, flicking through options on the holoprojector, and shooed him into the kitchen.

“Same mug?” he called out to her.

There was no reply.

“Penelope?”

John stuck his head out and frowned. The living room was empty. He called again, this time hearing a scuffle coming from the bedroom.

He rolled his eyes, and strode across the room.

“Pen, what mug do you want?”

“Hmm?” she asked, sounding more flustered than usual. “Oh, the usual will be fine John. Can I borrow this book?”

John looked down. “My textbook on galactic evolution?”

Penelope’s eyes widened as she glanced down. “Oh, uh, I mean you always talk so fondly of the topic.”

John’s eyes narrowed. “What’s going on, Penelope?”

“Nothing,” she said automatically, just as there was a loud crash from the bathroom. She closed her eyes, as John looked between her and the closed door, uttering only a single word: “Boys!”

John pulled the door open and stared. Virgil and Gordon were frozen in front of him, looking somewhat like deer in headlights as they collected the hair products that had fallen from the counter. Scott saluted him with a grin from where he lay in the bath tub, and Alan bounded across the room, leaping at him for a hug with a shriek.

“Merry Christmas!”

“What are you all doing here?”

He didn’t get a response as his brothers crowded around him, swapping bits of the story and tales of the long trip, and demanding to know how he’d been, and John couldn’t tell where the questions stopped and the answers started, so he just laughed and hugged them all, too overcome with joy to take it all in.

There was however, one constant that he could make out.

“You did this?” he asked Penelope, who hadn’t stopped beaming at him in nearly five minutes.

She shrugged. “I may have suggested to Scott that you weren’t as bright and perky as normal. I believe he did all the heavy lifting from there.”

“Don’t let Scott take the credit,” piped up Gordon. “Virg overheard the fourth call and told Scott that he needed to learn to read between the lines and book us all a flight.”

He pulled a face. “Course, Virgil also got us caught, so don’t give him any credit either.”

“And what about Dad? Grandma?”

“Booked into a hotel down the street,” said Virgil, smiling. “Where I imagine we’ll all be staying too.”

“I want to stay with John,” protested Alan, and John ruffled his hair with a fond smile.

“You can share my bed,” he assured him. “And the couch is a pull out if anyone else wants to stay.”

“And we can argue over that later,” said Scott with a grin. “I heard you were making hot chocolate?”

John grinned. “I’m on it.”

He swung past Penelope and pulled her into a hug.

“Thank you,,” he whispered.

She hugged him back.

“Merry Christmas, John.”

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #tag team secret santa #thunderbirds fanfiction

[dawn-moths]

“Weekend in Paradise”

Howl Pendragon x Female Reader

word count: 4,900+

(Every year for your anniversary, you and Howl take a weekend trip to some quaint, romantic little town to see some sights, try the local cuisine, and be reminded how lucky you two were to fall in love.)

disclaimer/content warning: no explicit smut, mostly just tender kisses, established relationship, this is just pure romantic devotion because i’m sad and need something soft and non-angsty right now.

*ao3 mirror*

***

“How do I look?” you asked as you gave a graceful twirl, the long skirt of your dress furling out around you in a cascade of pastel yellow, your giggles filling the room like rays of warm sunlight. You held your beautiful new hat to your head, the one with the white silk ribbon tied around the base, ending your spin with a small curtsy.

“Gorgeous, as always,” Howl replied smoothly with that signature charming smile of his as he walked towards you, pulling you in close to his side for a gentle embrace. You turned to face him, nuzzling your cheek closer into his chest, reaching up to loosely drape your arms over his shoulders, your grin widening with glee. He asked you, “Have you packed everything? Need any more help?”

“No, I’m pretty sure I have everything,” you responded, pulling away just enough to look up into his crystal blue eyes, his gaze as clear and sure as the late spring skies. “But what about you?” you then continued with a teasing lilt. “You’ve been packing for days, it seems. Weeks, even!”

Howl let out a soft chuckle, beginning to guide you out of the room with one arm still lovingly secured around your waist. “I think I’ve narrowed it down,” he joked. In the main living area, at the top of the short staircase leading to the front door, sat his suitcase which still appeared to be bursting at the seams with how many clothes he’d managed to shove inside.

You’d jokingly warned him he better not use magic to make more fit. Knowing Howl, he’d try to take his entire closet with him, if he thought he could get away with it.

And so you couldn’t help but giggle to yourself as you’d heard him grumbling under his breath when he’d first began trying to pack about how he wasn’t sure which shirts or coats or shoes to bring with him because he wasn’t sure what mood he’d be in during your trip.

You’d just shaken your head at him, hands on your hips as a smile spread across your face.

“It doesn’t matter what you wear,” you’d tried to reason with him. “We’re only going away for a weekend. Just pick a couple options and you’ll be fine.”

“Oh, but you don’t understand!” he’d sighed dramatically, running his bejeweled-ring adorned fingers through his silky shoulder length hair. “Who knows what the weather will be like and, not to mention accounting for any spontaneous activities we encounter on the way!”

You couldn’t help yourself from laughing, covering your mouth with one hand as if that would hide your amusement at his theatrics. “You’re going to end up being severely overdressed, aren’t you?” you asked.

Howl wore a playful smirk, then lifted a finger to accentuate his point when he replied, “Ah, but you see, even for something as simple as a picnic in the park, there’s no such thing as being overdressed, so long as you look your very best.”

You rolled your eyes, strolling over to help him shut his suitcase, in the end having to sit on top of it while he used a bit of magic to smush the rest down, tugging the zipper with nearly enough strength to snap the poor thing off in order to close it.

He’d pecked you on the cheek then, muttering a quiet, “Thank you, dear,” before helping you down from off the mountain of his packed belongings.

He did this every year, which you reminded him of— that on your anniversary vacation he always tended to get carried away.

But at least now that it was time to depart he’d seemed to have made up his mind.

“Oh, are you guys leaving now?” Markl asked as he popped his head around the corner, having come down from his room to see the two of you off.

“Indeed we are, Markl!” Howl responded to the boy triumphantly, walking towards his apprentice with his hands on his hips. “Are you and Calcifer going to be alright running things while we’re gone?”

“We’ll be fine…” Calcifer droned from his place at the hearth, flames glowing bright. “As long as Markl makes sure I have enough firewood, at least…”

“I already told you,” the boy remarked with indignance. “I’ll bring you firewood every morning and every night!”

Howl rustled the little boy’s auburn hair, causing his frown and scowl to fade back into a smile. “I’m counting on you to hold down the fort until we return, alright, Markl?”

Markl gave a playful solute, ensuring the wizard his castle was in good hands.

Howl then turned and addressed you when he heard you begin to pull your suitcase closer to the door, assuring you that you didn’t need to trouble yourself and that he’d get it for you.

“We’ll be late,” you informed him with an almost guilty smile, hating to hurry his goodbyes along, but, well…

If you didn’t keep an eye on the clock then no one would.

“Alright, everyone!” Howl called to his apprentice and fire demon, Hin puffing out a wheeze of a bark from his resting place under the table. “Take care and we’ll see you soon!” He then came to grab both of your suitcases, heading towards the door with you trailing after him.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” Calcifer muttered passive-aggressively as he grabbed another piece of the firewood that was stacked beside him. “You two just go galavanting about while I stay here and do all the work!”

“Oh, don’t be upset,” you smiled over your shoulder at the fire demon as Howl turned the colored dial on the door to a new one he’d added just last week, one that was a light lavender shade. “I’ll bring you back a souvenir. I hear they make the most delicious macarons in the town we’re visiting!”

That made the fire demon soften up a little, trying to suppress a bashful grin as he replied, “Well, alright… Maybe if you bring me back a few…”

And with that, you and Howl departed, the door swinging open to reveal a quaint little sea-side town as you turned to give one final wave to Markl who waved back and wished you both safe travels with a beaming grin.

***

It was a sunny day— a perfect day— and the early afternoon light sparkled off the surface of the calm sea, a scattered line of sailboats gently swaying on the horizon. The village was quiet, peaceful, the sounds of a few seagulls cawing to each other overhead as they glided under the cotton candy clouds harmonizing with the whisper of the water lightly rocking against the cliff sides and a sweet melody of a guitar being strummed somewhere in the distance. The warm spring breeze was just gentle enough to make your dress and hair drift a little bit in the direction that it blew.

“Oh, Howl!” you said through a breath of awe, unable to tear your gaze from the lovely scene. “It’s beautiful! How did you find this place?”

“I just happened upon it a little while back,” he admitted nonchalantly with an elegant shrug, movements always smooth and fluid. “I’ve been saving it for today.”

The two of you began up the hillside, you offering to take your suitcase back and Howl only allowing you to carry it once you told him that you wished to hold hands and you couldn’t do that if he carried both bags. Yours wasn’t heavy, as you’d only packed for two days since you were only going to be gone two days. You couldn’t speak for Howl (who’d probably squeezed a few extra articles of clothing into his bag at the last minute), though you were willing to bet he was using magic to assist him in lugging a generous portion of his wardrobe up towards the pastel cottage-esque bed and breakfast you’d be staying in.

You both checked into the romantic little inn and the man at the front desk handed Howl the key to your room, a little blue ribbon tied in a bow at the end of the shiny gold object.

Howl thanked the man, sliding him a few folded bills as a tip, and then continued down the hall where you both went up a short, spiraling staircase, Howl insisting on carrying your things up the climb. That time, you let him have his way.

Once at the top, he stopped at the door, hesitating. He then turned to you, holding the key out for you to take. “I think you should open it,” he suggested with a calm smile. “There’s a surprise waiting inside.”

Unsure of what you were about to walk into, you slowly took the key from his lithe grasp and went to unlock the door, pushing it open to reveal—

“Oh my gosh, Howl!” you took one step into the room, then two. “How did you— Is this magic? How did you do all this?”

The entire suite was decorated with all kinds of flowers— roses and tulips and orchids— but the majority of them consisted of your favorites, which were white lilies and delicate little bluebells. It complemented the cool tones of the furniture, like moonlight and vanilla, pearls and white wine.

There were little butterflies sculpted and etched into the details of things like the ornate frame around the oval mirror hanging above the fireplace and the headboard of the plush, king-sized bed that was stacked with an array of pillows, the texture of each one slightly different.

“I might’ve used a little,” he admitted as he came to stand beside you, lightly tugging you by the waist back to his side and kissing your forehead when you looked up at him with adoration and bewilderment in your eyes, hands clasped together in front of your chest, almost unable to believe that this place wasn’t a dream. That he wasn’t a dream.

Howl went to set your suitcases by the end of the bed as you took a closer look around, continuing to turn about the room slowly, taking it all in. Eventually you drifted back towards him, your own two feet guiding you back into his arms, guiding you back home.

“Happy anniversary,” Howl spoke in a low, quiet tone. Then he wrapped you up in his comforting embrace, his lips meeting yours for a tender kiss.

“Happy anniversary…” you replied with a lingering smile, foreheads pressed together, lightly nudging your nose to his. Your cheeks already were beginning to burn from how much you’d been smiling, so much joy filling your heart even as your romantic weekend together had barely begun.

“Now…” Howl suggested cooly, going over to pull the sheer curtains away from one set of windows to get a better view of the glittering water just outside and down the hill. He extended a hand to you, gently guiding you towards him so you could admire the scene as well, his chest pressed to your back as he rested his chin on your shoulder as his arms once again wrapped themselves around your waist. His gaze flicked from you to the view before landing back on you. He gave a slightly mischievous grin before asking, “Shall we?”

So, walking arm in arm, the two of you headed out of the beautiful inn where you probably could’ve just stayed all weekend— just you and him amongst the scent of the lilies and bluebells and the quiet crackling of a gentle fire— and headed back into the positively picturesque village, excited to see what else it had in store.

***

You’d been strolling about the town for a couple of hours, always with hands clasped or elbows interlocked, never breaking away from each other’s touch for more than a few seconds. Similar couples passed by as you ventured down the cobblestone streets, staring and pointing out at the sights that you’d just passed or were soon to venture upon.

You’d taken a tour of the nearby beach, collecting some of the little multi-colored pebbles that composed the shore as keepsakes to carry around, finding your favorites and trading ones that you thought each other would like, trying your hand at tossing others into the sea.

When Howl skipped a stone perfectly for the third time in a row, you gave him a look— one that said with playful accusation, “you’re cheating”— and Howl gave you a cheeky wink, pulling another one of those adorable giggles from you that he loved so much.

Then you’d headed towards the square where a fountain with a flawless marble statue of an angelic looking woman playing a mandolin stood ethereally in the center of the clear, flowing water, reflective sunlight glittering like gold dust over the surface, some local children tossing shiny silver coins in and making wishes. You imagined that Markl probably would’ve joined them, had he been here.

“Oh, what’s that?” you asked as you pointed towards some smoke rising from a chimney a few streets down.

“Why don’t we go find out?” Howl asked, whisking you away towards the mystery.

When you came upon the building the chimney belonged to, you saw it was a bakery, the smells of fresh sourdough bread and delectable chocolate pastries wafting outside from the open window. The sign on the door said it was soon to close for the day, but perhaps, if you were lucky, they wouldn’t be sold out of everything just yet.

“After you,” Howl remarked with a graceful nod and the extending of his hand towards the interior as he opened the bakery’s glass door for you, dainty little bells jingling overhead to signal your arrival.

Inside, tiny fairy creatures were painted on the ceiling and ivy plants hung like festival flags from corner to corner. Cupcakes frosted with pastel pinks and purples and blues were spaced evenly behind the glass counter, cute bite sized cheesecakes or single-serving pies placed a little further down. It smelled even better on the inside, the rich fudges and spicy cinnamon and nutmegs of the bakery mingling together in perfect harmony.

“Well, hello there!” a pleasant woman greeted as she walked out from the back room, a few smudges of powdered sugar and caramel drizzles spotting her multi-colored, patchwork apon. “Welcome! What can I help you with today?”

“Oh, well, it all looks so good…” You contemplated as you scanned your options from behind the display case, a finger tapping your chin as you tried to decide. You then looked back to Howl and asked with an eager smile, “What do you think?”

“I think perhaps we ought to choose a few to share,” he replied, kneeling down to get a closer look. 

You nodded your head, kneeling down as well. “I think you’re right.”

So, after choosing four of the bakeries freshly made desserts, wishing the woman (who’d been very helpful in recommending the most popular pastries as well as her own personal favorites) a good day, the two of you began to head towards the docks to watch the sunset behind the sailboats and continue to enjoy the fresh air and lovely weather.

But then, just as the sea was coming back into sight, Howl suddenly seemed to have a change of plans.

“I have a better idea,” he announced, his gaze following a couple who was riding down the main path on seafoam green bicycles. 

There was a bike rental station right at the corner, only two more left as if they’d been waiting there specifically for you and him.

So, with each of you carrying your desserts in the little wicker baskets attached to the front of the bikes, you took a leisurely ride further through town, venturing to the outskirts where you found a vast, sprawling field dotted with little white daisies nestled between a canopy of maple trees, dappled light freckling you both from between the star-shaped leaves.

You both decided to stop there for an evening picnic, finishing your pastries after Howl summoned a fluffy blue and white checkered blanket and placed it perfectly over the lush grass.

Little yellow butterflies flitted around, occasionally landing on a nearby flower to enjoy a sweet snack of their own, or simply drifting on the breeze. At one point, one of them fluttered over to land on the top of your head, slowly opening and closing its wings as you remained perfectly still.

Howl propped up on his side as he lay across the picnic blanket, admiring the rare moment with so much fondness you could’ve sworn the definition of the word became the color of his eyes.

“Perhaps he was a friend from a past life,” he commented with a soft grin. “He seems to really like you.”

You carefully lifted a finger to where you could feel the delicate creature perched upon you, coaxing it to crawl onto your hand, and when it did you slowly lowered it to your eye level, smiling at the insect dreamily.

“He’s beautiful…” you whispered, afraid if you raised your voice too much it would scare it away.

Howl leaned in a little closer, also moving cautiously on account of the butterfly. “Of course he is,” he began, his azure gaze drifting back to you. “Beauty has a way of finding beauty…”

As the butterfly caught the next soft gust of wind to flutter further into the field of daisies, you met eyes with Howl.

He always knew what to say, but never in a way that felt forced or inauthentic.

When Howl told you things like that, gave you charming compliments, it was always because he truly believed it, meant it from the most honest parts of his heart.

Yet, for some reason, every time he spoke such pretty words to you, it caught you off guard, as if you still weren’t accustomed to such genuine observations.

“Howl…” was all you could sigh out as he closed the gap between the two of you for another kiss, this one more passionate than the soft pecks he’d gifted you thus far, but no less tender. It was the kind that warmed you from the inside out, made you float even further into the fantasy only to remember that this was your reality, however unbelievably perfect.

After you both had gotten your fill of each other’s own unique brand of sweetness, Howl carefully brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his gaze unable to leave you as he murmured, the tiniest twinge of guilt laced into his rich baritone, “I know we just had dessert, but there was technically a dinner reservation booked for us tonight…”

Your eyes, which had been tracking his graceful hands, migrated back to those bewitching blues. Again, you were met with a gaze that made you think— made you know— that you were his entire world. That, even in a place as mesmerizing as this, he would always find you the most entrancing, enticing thing to admire.

He turned a little apologetic then, eyebrows pinched a fraction as his smile fell slightly crooked. “Or, we could just go back to the inn and have a meal there…?”

Now it was your turn to smile, putting him at ease with the soft expression, saying, “We have all night to enjoy the inn…” You took one of his hands in both of yours, studying his long, delicate fingers, too pretty to be as strong and sure as they were. “Let’s go to dinner.”

So you rode your bikes back into town and parked them right outside the restaurant, under the dim glow of a street lantern, the sky just beginning to shift into the navy of night, the last peach hues of the fading day lining the horizon with a thin streak of periwinkle between them.

The path leading to the eatery was lined with glowing, blown glass orbs, flecks of mint green and gold freckling the delicate sculptures and casting speckles of color at your feet as you crossed over the mosaic stones.

Your table was seated outside, facing the ocean, which had gone dark now, the moonlight casting a silvery trim along the waves, a majority of the sailboats docked but a few stray vessels still illuminated and hosting late night patrons who drank wine and traded merriment as they rocked upon the water.

You liked watching them, sneaking glances throughout your meal, the echoes of their joy only furthering your own contentment as you and Howl clinked glasses, toasting to a wonderful first day of your anniversary weekend, what was sure to be a wonderful night to continue.

“What are you thinking about, my love?” Howl eventually asked, catching you staring wistfully at the sea, melancholy weaving into your usual mirth.

Your attention turned back to him, looking a little caught off guard, as if you hadn’t even realized you’d been in a daze. “What am I— Oh…” Now your gentle smile reappeared, though still tinted with a tiny hint of somberness.

Your hand slid across the tabletop to find his, which turned over to clasp gently around your own with a gentle protection. “It’s just…” you began, watching as Howl’s thumb caressed the top of your hand. “Sometimes I think about how things were before I met you… How dull they seemed. But then you came into my life and suddenly there was so much color, so much life…” Your grin brightened a little bit then, and you chuckled out a teasing, “Definitely a lot more drama.” Even Howl found amusement at that, he couldn’t deny it.

Your view turned back out to the sea, the twinkling lights of the sailboat shimmering off the water. “And it’s just… Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve it all…”

Howl’s expression dropped, morphing into concern— nearly into shock.

“What you did to— Well that’s obvious, don’t you think?” You looked back to him, blinking twice, a little confused. He took both your hands in his, grip flexing a fraction over your palms as his brows knit with worry. Turning a little more serious, he cleared his throat and said, “You deserve this and more. So much more. And I would do anything— anything— to give it to you.”

“Howl…” Sighing each other’s names was an emotion in its own right, between the two of you, a coded declaration of your love. “You give me more than enough. What I mean to say is that…” You leaned in a little closer to him, scooting your chair forward a few inches, tenderly cupping his cheek in one of your velvety palms. “What I mean to say, is that I never thought I’d get lucky enough to find a love like we have.” Even in the dim light, you swore you saw Howl Pendragon blush, not as accustomed to receiving your blunt words of affection as you were of his.

“But what if luck has nothing to do with it?” Howl shifted back into his confidence then, lifting an eyebrow for a moment as another one of those sly grins spread across his lips. “What if it was fate instead?”

“Then, I suppose,” you began, lightening up and letting out a tired laugh, “I should be thanking fate.” Howl learned into your touch, savoring your warmth. “Because I’m the luckiest girl in the world,” you told him, feeling him squeeze your hand a little firmer. “The luckiest girl in the entire universe.”

Howl brought the hand of yours that he was still holding to his lips, kissed the top of it, allowing his lips to linger for a moment as his crystal blue gaze held yours, his devotion as bright and steady as the stars sparkling in the sky.

“Then that must make me the luckiest man in all of eternity,” he replied, voice silky smooth and low, only loud enough for you to hear, as if, dare he speak any louder, the angels in the heavens grow jealous and try to reclaim you.

Then it was your turn to blush, a bashful smile painting your joy, sipping at your wine while trading loving glances, ankles intertwined under the table and content enough just to be in each other’s presence.

***

Once dinner was over and you and Howl took the short stroll back up the hill to the inn, you realized just how tired you really were, the many activities of the day finally catching up to you.

Howl noticed the sleepiness tugging at your eyelids, drawing them down at half-mast like the sailboats preparing to dock for the evening, and swept you off your feet, carrying you up the stairs towards your suite and carefully lowering you to the end of the bed, the plush comforter filling in around you in a nest of fluffy goose down.

Howl placed his hands on either side of your thighs, leaning down a little closer as he murmured in that sweet, deep voice of his, “It’s been a long day, hasn’t it?”

You nodded, failing to suppress a yawn. “Definitely an eventful one,” you chuckled, a lazy smile lingering on your lips. You reached up to drape your arms over his shoulders, clasping your hands loosely behind his neck, his shiny, soft hair like silk between your fingers. “But I had a great time… So thank you, Howl. For all of this.”

Howl took a seat on the end of the bed next to you, gently pulling you into his lap and cradling you in his arms, your head lolling against his chest, hearing the steady beating of his heart— a falling star wished back between the ribs of its rightful owner. He smoothed back some of your wind tousled hair and said, “None of this would be possible without you, my dear. Who else would I share it with?”

You let out another hum of gentle adoration, nuzzling closer into him, his scent of roses and bergamot and the slightest twinge of campfire smoke putting you at ease the way it always did. Everything about Howl had a way of putting you at ease.

He’d always be your beacon on the shore, your guiding light. You found him in every bird that sang perched along the windowsill or burst of carefree laughter echoing through the market square. He would keep watch over you by way of the constellations spread out across the night sky or the refreshing breezes that winded through the streets during the day.

Because anything beautiful— whether mundane or fantastical— reminded you of him. Just the same as they reminded him of you.

Beauty has a way of finding beauty.

Perhaps he was right.

 “You spoil me…” you teased. “Better watch out, Calcifer might get jealous.”

“Not if we bring him back some of those macarons like you promised,” he chuckled, now caressing your neck, following the line of your collarbones and shoulder, slowly traveling back up and down with his soothing ministrations as you melted further into his tender touch.

“I love you, Howl…” you sighed, your eyes closed, breathing calm and steady.

“I love you, too,” he replied, placing a kiss delicately on the crown of your head.

For a little while, he just held you like that, keeping you safe in his arms while you drifted off into your dreams, subconscious painted with strokes of sunset orange and glittering gold, deep blues and shining silvers, pastel purples and soft cream whites.

They were pleasant dreams, while they lasted, though as Howl shifted around you and caused you to stir, you didn’t worry about losing them. You’d gain plenty of new opportunities tomorrow to view those colors in reality, this place so gorgeous one could only imagine it to be something out of a fairy tale.

“What are you doing…?” you mumbled as Howl lowered you to lay out on your back, making sure a pillow was placed comfortably under your head.

He knelt to start unlacing your boots then, flashing something only slightly mischievous before answering, “Well, you can’t very well get into bed in all these clothes, now can you?”

The faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of your lips before fading back into exhaustion, laying still as Howl removed your shoes, your stockings, helped you out of your beautiful dress and then tucked you under the covers.

Once you were settled, he made good work of removing his own clothing, garments slid perfectly onto hangers and hooked on the back of the door, the suite’s wardrobe too far away to be bothered with apparently.

When he joined you under the sheets and blankets, he pulled you close, your bodies curling around each other like entangled vines traveling up towards the sun. He pressed another kiss to your forehead, muttering one last, “I love you,” before wishing you sweet dreams.

And this time, you dreamt not only of the colors, but the feelings as well.

There was enough devotion and adoration to fill all of the world’s oceans, so deep and full and undeniably real that it was no wonder it didn’t take much for you to drown in it all.

But below the surface there was always a savor waiting for you, your protector, your rescuer, the one you could always depend on. He could take your hand and guide you to unbelievable new worlds, all the beauties hidden in any nook of the land, or even his own imagination, waiting for you to happen upon them.

And you didn’t know how it was possible, that you and Howl just seemed to fall in love more and more every year, every day. But you supposed it was sort of like magic. You’d have to see it, hear it, feel it to believe it. And once you had, that was all the proof you’d need to never question how or why is was possible ever again.

***

(Me picturing post-war Howl bringing Sophie on all these amazing dates and lovely trips and just wanting that to be me T-T <3

No but really, who wasn’t in love with Howl Pendragon after their first watch of the movie haha

Anyway, this is literally from like over a year ago and I’d never finished it, so I figured I’d spruce it up a bit and just put it out there.

Also writing for Howl made me want to write for Qifrey (from Witch Hat Atelier) because, charming and mysterious wizards? sign me up!

I hope you enjoyed!

See you next time <3)

#i literally started this like an entire year ago aaaaahhhh!! #im glad its finally done lol it was haunting me whenever i opened my 'currently working on' folder #howl's moving castle #howl pendragon #howl pendragon x reader #howl pendragon x you #howl pendragon x y/n #howls moving castle #howls moving castle fanfic #howls moving castle fanfiction #howl pendragon fanfiction #howl jenkins x reader #howl jenkins pendragon #howl jenkins x you #howl jenkins x y/n #hauru no ugoku shiro

[littlemisspascal]

New Writers added to The Pedro Library 🐼

@mylostloversbookmarks​​ @julesonrecord​​

New Works Added ✨

Many fics aren’t appearing in the tags when searching. If I miss yours, please let me know 💗 Or add me to your taglist cuz I love being tagged 😊

As always, if you would like me to remove your work from the rec list, please let me know and I’ll remove them asap 😊

New Character Added - Claude ✨

@theredwritingwitch Marcus P  The Art of Stealing

@absurdthirst @storiesofthefandomlovers Marcus P  Casual Neighbors +  The Baby Blues

@hopeamarsu Tim  First Mistake / Javier  Waxing Moon / Marcus P  Full Moon

@popcornforone Tim  Thinking / Javi G  Is That All Mr. Gutierrez?

@musings-of-a-rose Javier  Jump Then Fall

@simpingcowboy Javier  Voulez-Vous//Do You Want To?

@whiskeynwriting Whiskey  Irreplaceable

@oonajaeadira Whiskey  This Will Be The Day That I Spy

@pennyserenade Dieter  You Can(t) Always Get What You Want

@butchmandalorian Dieter  CNC

@albertasunrise Joel  Hope

@thot-of-khonshu Joel  Jealousy, Jealousy

@swiftispunk Joel  Here Today +  Style / Frankie  False God

@beskarandblasters Joel  A Taste For Men Who Are Older / Din  Living “Waters” of Mandalore

@toomanystoriessolittletime Joel  Too Fast

@forever-rogue Joel  Welcome to the Neighborhood +  Protective +  Nightmares / Whiskey  Science Lab Crush

@insomniamamma Joel  In the Light They Both Look the Same

@wheresarizona Din  Creed

@spacecowboyhotch Din  Gardens of Babylon

@floral-force Din  Misjudgments +  Of Brown Eyes and Desert Skies / Frankie  I Was Made to Love You

@radiowallet Marcus M  Eyes Open

@artemiseamoon Frankie  Is This How It Ends?

@beecastle Frankie  Frankie + Staring

@fuckyeahdindjarin Frankie  Soulmates AU

@criticallyacclaimedstranger Frankie  Blind Dates and One Night Stands

@boliv-jenta Claude  Me-Use

@rise-my-angel Thief  By Fate of The Night

@grogusmum Oberyn  Yes, You May

@wardenparker @absurdthirst Oberyn  The Viper’s Bride

@mandoalorian Maxwell  Mastermind

@prolix-yuy Maxwell  Sheer

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #my library