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#I refuse to call it golden wind
boyfhee · 23 days
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심재윤 、STRAWBERRY LIPS
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featuring ⋆ tutor!jake, sort of classmates to lovers
warnings ⋆ pet names ( 0.5k )
note ⋆ i was studying and suddenly came up with this idea and it instantly reminded me of em so here's to her @goldenhypen
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you’ve been staring at jake for a while now, instead of focusing on studying. the soft glow of sunlight on his face with that dainty golden chain around his neck makes him look a bit too attractive, you can hear your heart thumping in your ears.
“what’s wrong, pretty?” there it comes. he leans a bit closer to take a look at the question you’re supposed to be solving. “you’re supposed to use the formula of the equation of trajectory for that one, angel.”
the trajectory of your life is about to change. 
because you don’t know what you’re doing. you should be studying but your eyes refuse to leave his sight, specifically fixed on his lips as he pops his lollipop back in, the warm summer winds entering your room through the windows and brushing across his face, ruffling his brown locks that glow like honey under the sun. 
summer is here.
however, you don’t know if it’s the season to be blamed as your cheeks heat up when he glances at you, or if it’s the man himself. 
“still stuck on that question, pretty?” he asks, the lollipop is still in his mouth, resting against the corner of his lips, you can taste the strawberry flavour on your tongue just by looking at him.
“uh, i’m trying—”
you offer a quiet and flustered response with a shaky breath, and jake couldn’t help but chuckle, cutting you off mid sentence, speaking in the softest, dreamiest voice. “it’s okay, i’ll tell you how to do it, sweetheart,”
you have no excuse for blatantly staring at his lips, but you couldn’t help it and stare in the same direction again as he takes the lollipop out of his mouth. every time he calls you by one of those pet names, you feel a flutter in your chest. when his shoulders brush against you as he leans closer, you suddenly get more conscious about everything around.
he’s explaining the solution and you’re busy looking at his lips again. the way they move when he speaks, the subtle smile as he writes the solution, you’re sure they taste like your favourite strawberry lollipop that he was eating earlier. his voice is reduced to nothing, your heart is beating faster and faster and when he finally looks up at you with only a few inches between you two— it feels like your heart has stopped. 
“are you even listening to me?”
you quickly avert your eyes from his lips, focusing on anything but him. you can feel the heat radiating off your cheeks, hands fisting together on your lap out of embarrassment. it won’t be a surprise if your heart pops out of your chest. “y-yeah,”
when you don’t hear a response, you turn your eyes back to him, and he sighs, putting the pen down. you wonder if you’ve finally annoyed him, but jake pulls your chair towards him. it doesn’t down upon you how close you both are until you feel his breath on your lips.
“i might not be able to hold myself back,” he whispers, thumb brushing over your bottom lip ever so tenderly, sending shivers down your spine. “if you keep staring at my lips like that,”
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itsbecomeblue · 2 months
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glue 001 ellie williams imagine
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don't dare forget about palestine
sinopse: you might have a crush on your friend, college!au
cw: swearing, basically fluff, ellie plays soccer, puppy love again because that's my thing, slightly nerdy loser!ellie, reader and ellie are oblivious, not explicit if reader is fem or masc, not exactly proofread.
it was a nice day, the sun gently hitting your face after a week of chilly wind and winter complaints from everyone. you were leaving your last morning class. you walked happily towards the college cafeteria, a thing that no one was ever happy to do. you feel hot on your back, your black jacket heating from the sun but you refuse to take it off and feel the chilly wind.
everything was going as smoothly as it could today. you had worries but the sun was nice and warm on your skin… as you walked you saw her. you saw ellie williams, and like this day, she was golden. a golden soccer player, the best player in your opinion, that's for sure. she walked over to you, that wasn't unusual.
“hey, sup?” she nudged your shoulder to catch your attention, unaware she already had all of it.
she had big green piercing eyes below her eyebrow slit and. you stared for a bit, that wasn't unusual either. she had a mid-sleeve blue shirt that left her tattoo slightly covered. she just waited for you to talk, as she always did, looking down and fidgeting with her fingers. you walked side by side.
“cafeteria?” you point towards the way to the cafeteria, the one you and ellie had been taking for a month now . she hums in agreement.
you met ellie in this same situation, her in front of you, the last ones in the line at the cafeteria. a guy, jesse, walked over to her, jumping the line. she called him out with a few chuckles and he apologized, telling you he just wanted to talk to her. she asked you to sit with her that day.
now, you're in the same line. her in front of you and no jesse to jump the line, but you're gonna sit with her again. the food was not appealing, but the company was great. that was something you and ellie agreed on but kept unspoken.
she's waiting for you to finish putting your food on the tray, so you can walk to the table. ellie looks at you over her shoulder and as soon as you're next to her she's sticking her hand out to your arm, you flinch slightly. ellie was more touchy than you.
“you're quiet.” she fixes your school bag's strap on your shoulder, her tattoo peeking out of her navy sleeve. her cold fingers touch a little of your collar.
“yeah?” you shrugged. “so are you anyway.” she took a breath and shrugged too, sitting down at the right corner table. that wasn't unusual at all.
“do you have any projects coming up?” ellie says as she sits down, she brushes a strand of her hair out of her face. you nod and she hums. “knew it. ya need any help?”
ellie was always the friend to help out in any way, she felt good doing it and she wanted her friends to succeed so if she could help, she would in a heartbeat.
“you wanna help me?” your pupils dilated and ellie noticed.
“no…i mean, yeah i do. you know i do.” she shook her head no, then nodded yes. she's a rambling mess and you just stare and it's making her stumble over her words. “come over after my practice.”
“‘kay.” you try to hold back a smile and you look at your food, the sun is warm and so are you. you thanked god she asked you to come over for a study sesh. you'd take any opportunity to see her and she'd always ask.
ellie was somewhat popular for playing on the soccer team. you had a separate friend group but sometimes people meet randomly and they just click. like you and ellie. you had met jesse when you met ellie, and you eventually met dina and ellie met your roommate but you never really hung out with other people.
you had been friends for a while, lunches in the cafeteria, study sessions, and dorm visits were what your friendship was about and you took every opportunity to see each other. you were getting ready to leave when niyah, your roommate and closest friend spoke out.
“you going to ellie's?” you smile in that certain way and niyah doesn't need an answer anymore.
“she's gonna help me with my project.” you sit down to put on your shoes, checking the time on your phone.
“again? you say she's a nerd and i'm starting to believe you.” and you're nodding.
“she is.” you chuckle. “so smart and a fucking geek!”
“alright, have fun studying i guess…”
“stop, i will. it's fun with her.” niyah mocks you, you throw a hat from the wall hooks at her and leave the room.
you walk a little bit until you get to ellie's dorm. the door is unlocked, as usual when you're coming over and you want to scare her.
“aaaaa…ha!” you yell as you go in, only to find out she isn't inside. you feel stupid and you giggle to yourself.
you sit on her neatly done bed, next to her dinosaur plushie and you text her ‘where are you’ ‘i was finna jumpscare you and no one was here… mad embarrassing’. you sighted, she was never late to see you.
ping! ellie replied ‘omw coach had us doing an extra today” you smile and ping! “i even left without a shower so i wouldn't be so late 💔” you replied “ig it didn't work”. you're waiting for a reply but soon enough you see a sweaty ellie coming into the room, soccer jersey still on.
“oh my god, intruder!” she faked a scare and you furrowed your eyebrows as in ‘you're not funny’. “what? you said you were gonna scare me so…”
“whatever.” you stay on your phone replying to some of your friends’ texts and she pulls it away, wearing a childish smile on her dumb face. some hair stuck sweaty on her forehead and her cheeks were flushed.
“you came here to work, not play on your phone!” she laughs and you cross your arms over you chest. you don't even bother reaching out for your phone.
“you still have to take a shower so…”
“do i?” she shrugs and you look disturbed, furrowing your eyebrows.
“ewwwwww, yes you do smelly ellie.” you laugh and she furrowed her eyebrows in that same ‘you're not funny’ way. the truth is, you find each other hilarious.
“fine, wait here.” she says before grabbing some clothes from her drawers and her towel. “gonna shower real quick, and… and we can start.” you hum and nod.
she goes to the bathroom and you stay on your phone texting niyah and some other friends while she's not back. you get anxious at the image of her in her sweaty jersey for some reason and if you took your eyes off your phone you'd stare. but now it isn't any better, she's coming in with fresh clothes, smelling as good as ever and with water drops on her hair.
“hey… you didn't take out your stuff yet?” she coughs, sitting on the bed too. you shake your head and she hums negatively as to scold you.
you don't take them out and she stays quiet while you stay completely still. when you decide to reach for your bag that you had previously thrown next to the bed, you knee nudges hers. she retracts instantly, making you lift your head to face her. book and laptop in hand.
you stare, as you feared you would before. she knows she's gonna stutter so she decides to stay silent. she blinks softly, eyes still piercing yours.
“it's a questionnaire about a documentary. so maybe this wasn't a good idea.” you hold your book and laptop closer to your lap.
“w-why is it not?” she stuttered and she wanted to leave, but it's her dorm room.
“because… you'd have to have watched it to help me reply so it's dumb.”
“we can watch it, and then we reply.” she reaches for the laptop you had in your lap.
“uhh… it's 3 hours long.” you chuckle and she scoffs in disbelief. “yeah…”
“why did you want help then?” she moves further onto the bed, turning her body to face you, holding your shoulder so you do the same, you comply.
“dunno. i just… i didn't think of what project it was, to be honest. i just wanted… this i think.” you look around, emphasizing the ‘this’ as you do.
“to come over?” you shrug before nodding. “could've just said that. ya know? not your tutor, i'm your friend.”
“i know… but i dunno, i like hearing you talk and you talk and talk when you're helping me and…” you stop yourself and she's beet-red.
“you ask for my help because you… you wanna hear me talk? sorry wait…?” she's convinced she misheard you or just misunderstood what you said. you're scared she might think you're weird or something.
“i guess so, but you're also really smart.” you try to hold back a smile again, and you look down. ellie wants to see you but she doesn't want you to see her blushed cheeks.
“makes sense, sorry if it seemed like that was the only way we could hang. ‘cause that's not true…. we can just hang out y'know?” you listen to her rambling, keeping your head down. she's done talking and you're silent. “can… can you look at me for a sec?”
and you do. what are those? are those your eyes? where's your iris? big ass dilated pupils. ellie chuckles.
“what?” you lean to put your laptop and book back in your bag and as soon as you do ellie holds your chin.
“you like it when i talk?” you blink a few times. “hm?” she insists and you nod. she stays quiet so you feel like you have to say it.
“i do. why?” you breathe so heavily that she feels your body alive against her fingers that she holds against your chin. her stomach twisted, she lost her words.
both were silent, her hand on your chin dropped and you were going to look away but she spoke again.
“‘cause… i like it when you look at me.” she's now fidgeting with her fingers against her lap again, eyes trying to not leave yours, she wouldn't wanna miss any expression of yours.
“sorry.” you try not to look away too. “i know i should look-”
“yeah, keep them on me.” she interrupts with a chuckle and your heart skips a beat. hers is fast. you chuckle back. “wh-what do you wanna do then?”
“just hang, like you said?” you finally move your body again, moving one of your legs onto the bed. she nods, and she notices you kept eye contact.
“yes.” she vocalized. “course.” a strand of wet hair is stuck on her forehead and you itch to move it around.
“why did the coach have you guys doing extra today?” you remember to ask.
“it was just me and dina, we were late.” she laughs and another strand of hair falls forward as she lowers her head. your hand trails off but you hesitate. “what?” she noticed you didn't laugh and your hand's movement.
“you have hair here.” she laughs and you sigh. “here…” you brush the strands away from her forehead, she's choked up.
your eyes go down to hers and as soon as they pierce yours you're choked up too. she breathed out a “thanks.” and she accidentally touched your nose with hers because of the proximity.
“that was a kunik.” you smile and she pulls away softly.
“what do you mean?” she curled her lips up in a sweet smile.
“your nose on mine.”
“nose kiss is cute.” she adds.
“mhm, i think so too.” you agree, palming your jeans. your hands were clammy and you wanted to take off your jacket and ellie seemed to read your mind.
“you're hot?” you furrow your eyebrows at first until you nod and take off your jacket. “glad you know.” now she's holding back a smile when you do too.
“uhm… today's warm.”
“are you really talking about the weather right now?” she laughs at your conversation attempt and you slap her arm.
“it's not like that… it's actually nice and warm today.” you giggle. “i was thinking about it.”
“right… right… it's true, it is warm.” she surrenders to your true statement. “it's nicer to practice like this, makes you feel more energetic.”
“plus made you sweat so hard.” you laugh, remembering the state she was in.
“naaah, it's always like that, but coming back here speeding wasn't as refreshing as the walks when it's colder” she emphasizes speeding and glares harder at you with a grin.
“hey! i didn't ask you to speed here!” you smile, she mirrors that. your smiles fade away with the silence that settles again. you were about to speak again when ellie beat you to it.
“i don't like being late.” she moves around to lie down next to your sat figure.
“you were just laughing about being late.” you start laughing, looking at her almost over your shoulder.
“about being late for practice, not about being late to see you.” she chuckles and you grin. she rolls her eyes, knowing what to expect from you.
“oooh because i'm just sooo more important.” you turn to her, leaning on the bed with your hands, closer to her face now.
“yeah right… you're just scarier than the coach.” she laughs but she stops drastically, serious expression. “it's your face. scary as shit i swear to god.”
“ooooh really?” you chant coming even closer.
“yeah keep that face away…” she acts frightened, one hand on top of her head and the other between your faces to keep you away. you lean even closer and you're both giggling “help!” even closer, giggles and chuckles alive.
“you're done for!” you come closer, face hitting her hand, that just holds your cheek.
you're still laughing and she's grabbing your face with both hands, pretending to scream in fear as you laugh into her face. you're almost on top of her and as soon as you touch, her eyes soften and you stiffen. the laughter is gone and long forgotten.
“nose kiss again?” she blurted out incoherently and you shifted, her hand slid to your neck, you felt hot again but now you didn't have a jacket to strip out of.
“what?” you crawl closer to settle where you were. your heart raced just like ellie's, even if you didn't know hers did. “ellie…” you start, not moving an inch away or closer, her head already lifted off the bed. her hand on your neck pulls you closer until your noses touch again.
“there, nose kissed.” she smiles. you let go of the breath you didn't realize you were holding. she moves her nose against yours. breathing against each other's faces.
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shebreathedherlast · 2 months
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Daughter of the Sea
Part I
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Done For
Luke Castellan x f!reader
Summary: You wanted glory but Luke already had it. You have no option but to take it from him.
Word Count 1.3k
TW: Violence, weapons, blood
. .・゜゜・・゜゜・.. ・゚゚・。. .・゜゜・・゜゜・.. ・゚゚・。. .・゜゜・.
Tearing through the forest your legs carried you as fast as you could go. This was the day. You needed this win. The wind flew through your hair as you ran. You were in enemy territory now, and that meant you had to be on high alert.
As an unclaimed half-blood you needed a way, anyway to prove your worth. And since camp offered glory you figured you might as well take it. You would've long ago if it wasn’t for Camp Half Blood’s designated golden boy, Luke Castellan. In your mind, he could be labelled by anything besides “the golden boy.” Luke was overwhelmingly competitive. He fought hard to earn the place of the “best swordsman at camp.” But even harder to keep it.
Living in close quarters with him for a little over a year, you had learned Luke’s best and worst qualities, and he did have many bad qualities.
For one Mr. Golden Boy, all but self-assumed the role of head counsellor. He just saw an opportunity for power and took it without question. When you thought about it, it did make sense. Luke wanted control because being a half-blood, a tool for the gods was all but a freeing life. You never had any say, no control, no power.
Luke might have enjoyed power, but you craved it in your very soul.
. .・゜゜・・゜゜・.. ・゚゚・。. .・゜゜・・゜゜・.. ・゚゚・。. .・゜゜・.
Your sword rang out with a clang when it met your opponent’s blade. You would earn glory, even if you had to claw it from between the fist of Luke himself.
With another swift blow, your opponent was down. Sprawled on the ground, trying to regain his breath. The boy, Chris, was supporting his body weight by placing his elbows on the ground beneath him. You had disarmed him and now you were holding your knife against his throat.
“They should call you the wraith, with the way you sneak up on people.” Chris said, a chuckle muffed by his inhale of breath.
“That sounds so extra.” You shiver, “Not my style.”
A voice flitted through the air behind you, “That sound’s like it’s exactly your style, Chaos.”
You groaned in annoyance. “I was supposed to hunt you down, Castellan, you took all the fun out of this.”
Luke rolled his eyes at you. He contended with a raise of his brows, “Well, it looks like I was the one who caught you by surprise.”
You laughed at that. Did Luke really believe he could sneak up on you? “I could hear you coming from a mile away with your loud footsteps. You’re about as subtle as an elephant, Castellan.”
By now Chris was shifting his weight to get up. Noticing this, you pulled a knife from your boot and threw it in his direction. Chris froze, knife pinning his shirt to the ground.
“Stay down Chris.” Was all you said before turning your attention back to the boy in front of you. Christ obeyed, not moving an inch, in fear that your patience would wear thin. After all Luke could handle himself right? It wasn’t a hidden fact that for the better part of an entire year, you had been on the hunt for glory… specifically, the same glory that made Luke Castellan the camp-proclaimed “Golden Boy.”
“I’m going to enjoy humbling you, chaos.”
You scoffed, “In your dreams Castellan.”
And with that, your weapons clashed. Metal against metal, blade against blade. You had sparred with Luke many times before, he claimed you were the only one who could actually “put up a fight.” Every other time Luke had bested you. Your fights would last hours on end, each of you refusing to let the other assume victory. But, he always had this ability to fight without emotion. Anger never made him sloppy. You on the other hand. You used your anguish and pain to fuel you. It was both a blessing and a curse. You had the drive to fight till the end, but your rage could make you careless. Not today. You would keep your head on this time. You would win glory, one way or another.
He had his sword pointed to your chest, in response you raised your knives to push against his blade. You spun out of his reach and delivered a kick from behind. Luke stumbled forward as he tried to regain his stance. You wasted no time in lightly sinking your blade into his bicep. He hissed in pain.
“Chaos,” Luke groaned at the painful contact of your knife.
You snickered, “Ready to give up Castellan?”
He faced you head-on this time, “Never.”
Luke brought down his sword with such force, you thought the ground might have trembled. You held your daggers against his sword, preventing the weapon from piercing your skin. But he was stronger than you. Your arms weakened and he saw this as an opportunity to push down harder. Realizing this, you attempted to evade the sword, tumbling to your side, but the blade cut the flesh of your shoulder. Blood seeped out from the wound, coating your orange camp shirt in a deep crimson.
You drew a sharp breath, instinctively pressing your hand to the injury.
“That was way deeper than the nick I gave you.” You said through gritted teeth.
A brief look of concern filled Luke’s eyes before they glassed over with a dim look. His eyes darkened when he remembered that you wanted his glory.
“Get up and fight me, Chaos. Don’t you want my glory?” He taunted.
Your hand slid from your wound, readjusting the blades in your hands. “I will have your glory, Castellan, even if I have to kill myself trying.”
Luke’s eyes drank in your appearance. Eyes wild, hair falling from your ponytail. Knives in your grasp. And the determination radiating off you. This time was different from almost every other. You were determined to beat him, and loss wasn’t even a possibility. You and Luke always fought, both with blades and with words. And though he tried, he couldn’t deny that he started to find your anger increasingly more…attractive.
You swept his legs from under him, fighting for dominance as you straddled his waist. He wrested you off his frame as you grabbed his arm with the sword. You shifted your weight on his body as you reached for Luke’s sword. And at this, you could’ve sworn you had heard him inhale sharply.
Luke finally managed to push you off of him. He stood, holding his sword to your throat. The prospect of glory was fleeing from you and you would not accept it. You needed it, you craved it. With one last effort, you dropped your weapons, placing your hands on the belly and top of the sword. Luke stood fixed, too bewildered to calculate his next movements. The metal dug into your palms as you twisted your arms, disarming Luke in his confusion. You elbowed him in the shoulder, hearing a pristine popping noise before tackling him to the ground and pressing your forearm to his throat.
“Yield.” You spoke, breathlessly.
Luke simply nodded, seeing as he was defenceless and now his limbs were rendered useless.
A victorious smile reached your lips. You lifted your body off of his and reached the blue flag. Taking it in your bloody hands you ran to the boarder of the teams, firmly placing it on the soil of the read team.
Your fellow teammates let out a victorious yell. Even the conceited ares champion, Clarisse gave you a nod of approval. Near the lake a halo blue tridant appeared over your head, claiming you as Poseidon's child. You had achieved much more than glory. You had been seen by your father. After over a year of trying to earn your godly parent's favor, you had finally given your father something to be proud of.
As Luke and Chris walked back from their assigned station, they could see the glorious smirk that painted your features.
Yes, after that encounter Luke Castellan was definitely done for.
----
A/n This will become a series.
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turtletaubwrites · 1 month
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A Good Catch ~ Part 1
✨600 Followers Fic Celebration!✨
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I am so grateful for all of you! This has been such a wonderful time, and having all of you around to nerd out with, and to share my writing with is the best! Shanks won the poll for the next x Reader fic, and I hope you enjoy it!
Pairings: Shanks x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 4367
Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 (End)
Ao3 Link
Summary: You are an unlucky fisherwoman having a bad day, until a red haired pirate captain offers to help you out. You're pretty sure he only makes it worse.
Rating/Warnings: 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Angst, Teasing, Flirting, I feel like there's some romance tropes I could tag, but I usually just write smut, so please let me know what silly tropes I have in here 😅
A/N: I am having so much fun with this one! I'm doing my best to keep it to 3 parts, so wish me luck 😅 Please enjoy this fluffy first chapter!
| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |
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“Now I’m gonna get murdered by pirates,” you grumbled to yourself as the ship crept ever closer. “Just fucking perfect.”
The windless sea was no challenge for the massive pirate ship. All you could do was sit with your pile of fish, jealous of the huge oars guiding the threat to you. 
Dread loomed as that jolly roger closed the distance, like an animal baring its fangs before it strikes. Crossed blades, and a sinister skull with red stripes over its left eye socket. 
You didn’t pay enough attention to the gossip and wanted posters to remember who was headed your way. 
Not that it matters. They’re pirates. 
It was too much to hope that they’d pass you by. 
A few voices carried over from the deck, until a tall man leaned over the side. His bright, red hair hung still against this stupidly windless sky. 
“Hey, friend,” he called, the sun at your back giving you a glimpse of his wide smile, even from so high above you. 
“We’re not friends,” you countered, crossing your arms to keep him from noticing your shaky hands. 
“I suppose not. You seem like you’re in a spot of trouble though, and we’re happy to help.”
His deep voice sounded so friendly. Genuine. Charming. 
He’s just trying to lure me into his trap. Who knows what they’d do to me on that ship…
“The sun’s getting pretty low for a small boat to be all the way out here,” he judged, trying to block the glare as he looked down at you. “I don’t think we’ll be getting much more wind today.”
“Thank you, I’ll be fine.”
His pause made your skin itch, wishing he would stop looking at you. 
“We can bring your boat with us. I’m assuming you’re from that village a ways to the west?”
It must have been a trick of your eyes, it couldn’t happen so quickly. But you swore the day inched closer to night faster with every second. You watched the light grow golden as it lit up the red haired man, and his pirate ship.
Fuck.
“I refuse to be rescued,” you choked out, nails digging into your arms. 
“Okay,” he said in an annoyingly teasing tone, “if you insi–”
“I’ll pay you for the service! I had a great haul before…”
“Sounds good to me,” he laughed, deep and hearty. As if he were truly happy. 
You had thought pirates would seem scarier. Maybe this is worse.
You barely heard his shouts  as men started to lower ropes down, prepping to save you. 
“You should know I’m armed,” you yelled up at the back of his head, continuing when he faced you again. “Anyone touches me, and they’ll lose a hand.”
“I’ll be on my guard then. I’ve been running out of those.”
You didn’t understand, or appreciate his teasing while you waited. 
~
“Welcome aboard!”
Pirates echoed the red haired man’s welcome, and you assumed he was the captain as the rest busied themselves about. He sat on deck, calm as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Now that you were so close, you couldn’t help but notice the rippled muscles of his chest and stomach between his mostly open shirt. 
Besides the cloak over his shoulders, he didn’t seem to wear anything that could mark him as captain. Unless his red hair, and three scars over his left eye… 
“Oh.”
“Oh,” he asked, moving to stand beside you. 
“The jolly roger,” you pointed to the menacing skull. “You must be the captain.”
“Good eye,” he leaned in with a smile. 
His smile should have a completely different word. The sight from your boat was nothing compared to seeing the way this man's lips curled slowly, the left side starting first as it grew, as if he was enjoying the act of smiling itself. And his eyes…
His eyes were way too close to you. 
“Are you alright?”
Concern broke that smile, and he called for someone to bring water. 
Your face flushed, hot to the tips of your ears. You realized that you hadn’t heard what the pirate had said because you were too busy swooning over his pretty eyes. 
The water was welcome, and you gulped half of it down, suddenly embarrassed about how fucking fishy you must smell with your day’s catch beside you. 
“Is there anything else you need, miss…”
Trying to catch your eyes, the pirate leaned toward you. He reached for your shoulder, and you jumped back, spilling water down your chest.
“I’m so sorry, love. I forgot about your warning.”
His soothing voice felt real as he went to a knee in front of you. 
“I do hope you will spare me my fate, I swear that no one on this boat will forget it again.”
He’s really too charming. He’s either the sweetest person in the world, or some sort of demon with powers of seduction. 
You nodded. It wasn’t like you could truly defend yourself anyway. The fear of being at their mercy kept you hyper aware of all the moving bodies around you.
“How long until we’re at the village?”
The sun was almost gone from the sky now, and you just wanted to be home. To scrub this stupid day away, and pass out. 
“It should be about three days from now.”
“Three,” you choked out, dropping the now empty mug of water, which he caught without taking his eyes off of yours.
“We’ve got some business on the other side of the island. We'll be stopping by the village to restock supplies before we head out.”
“You didn’t tell me that,” you snapped, voice louder than you meant it.
He just smirked, tilting his head.
“Sorry, love. Would you like us to toss you overboard? I don’t think you had many rescuers lined up.”
For some reason, you couldn’t get your mouth to remember that these men could kill you as you growled back at him.
“You didn’t rescue me. I paid you for a trip back to the village.”
His lips quirked as if he was fighting not to smile again. He looked down at your haul, fish still flapping in the net. 
“That is a really nice haul, miss. Afraid it’s not enough for a direct trip, though.”
Pirates came to take your fish away, and it broke the spell his irritating eyes had on you.
“Please, save this one! You can have it, just… Make sure you cook it well.”
The two men with the net followed your gesture to that fish, assuring you they would obey before taking it away.
“Why’s that one special?”
The weight of this long ass day hit you, a heavy sigh leaving your lips before you looked back at that pretty captain. 
“It was a good catch.”
He huffed a laugh, the clear amusement he got from your words making you simultaneously annoyed, and pleased. You were mentally smacking yourself for that. 
Don’t be attracted to pirates, dumbass. 
“I’m Shanks. I don’t know if you heard me before, but…”
Your skin flushed again, and he seemed to notice, a warm, evil smile slowly forming on his lips.
“What’s your name?”
“You don’t need to know it.”
He gave a real laugh then, loud, and infectious. You had to remind yourself that he was laughing at you.
“What would you like us to call you then, huh? “Fish Girl?” Maybe “Fail Boat?” Or how about “Damsel in Distress?” I think I like that–”
You ripped your hand back as soon as you’d realized what you’d done.
But it was too late.
Your idiotic, suicidal hand had shot out and smacked him, hard, right in the center of that gorgeous chest of his.
The deck roared with laughter while you shook with horror. Shanks had looked down at his chest, and when he lifted his face to yours he looked stunned. If you hadn’t just signed your own death warrant, you might have thought his face comical, brows raised high, with his mouth and eyes wide. 
“Go easy on the girl, captain,” teased a tall man with gray hair, shaking his head at Shanks.
“Yeah, come on, captain! What kinda hospitality are you giving, insulting our guest like that?”
A whole group of pirates crowded around him, reprimanding him, and giving him a few gentle punches and shoves. 
Your mouth hung open. The sight of these pirates being so playfully disrespectful toward their captain didn’t fit in your brain. None of this made sense with what pirates were supposed to be like. 
“Fine. Fine! I’m sorry, miss…”
He’d broken away from his men, leaning toward you with that question. 
“Y/N.”
He hit you with a new grin to outshine all the others, making your breath hitch.
“What a beautiful name for a damsel in distress.”
You didn’t need to hit him this time, as pirates did the job for you, even throwing things at him from across the deck. 
Maybe it was the overwhelm, the fatigue. Maybe you’d gone insane.
But laughter built in your stomach, growing through your body, until you were shaking with it. You had your hands on your knees as it took you over, and the pirates around you joined in. 
How can pirates be laughing and smiling like this with me? How can it be genuine? 
Amidst the continued roars of his men, Shanks shook his head, gesturing for you to follow him. 
“Where are we going?”
“I’ll show you.”
Frowning at the back of his head, you followed through the wooden halls until he opened a large door, gesturing for you to go inside.
He rolled his eyes when you hesitated, before going in first. 
The large room was tiled, with lockers and showers, and there he stood in the center, grinning like a creep.
“I’ll pass,” you deadpanned, backing out the door.
“Come on, fish girl,” he taunted, “you stink, and I think you’ll be easier to clean than the blankets you’ll sleep in tonight.”
Blood rushing to your face again, your mouth opened and closed as anger and embarrassment fought to take over.
Shanks laughed again, but tried to stifle it. 
“Sorry, you’re just,” he motioned to his lips, mimicking your movements. “You’re a fish girl.”
“Shut up,” you seethed, leaning toward him. “I’m not taking a shower on a pirate ship when anyone can–”
“I’ll guard the door for you, okay,” he assured, finally seeming to take something seriously. “I’ll make sure no one comes in.”
Now his stupid smile was soft, small, and sweet. You hated it.
“Oh right,” you scoffed, “like I'd trust a pirate captain. Who’s gonna stop you from coming in?”
“What makes you think this pirate captain would even want to come in here, huh?”
“Fuck you,” you breathed, turning to leave.
He was so fast. You jumped back as he blocked the door. He saw your wide eyes, and moved out of the doorway so he wouldn’t block your exit, but he still leaned close.
“I’m sorry, Y/N. Really, okay? I promise I will sit right outside this door, and not let a single person come inside until you’re done. There’s fresh clothes for you over there too. Whatever you need.”
A very fine trembling worked its way around your body as you studied him. It seemed like such a bad idea to trust him. 
But you were exhausted. 
“You’ll sit in front of the door?”
He straightened up, a look of relief brightening that serious face.
“I will.”
“Will you wear a blindfold?”
“If that’s what it takes,” he agreed with a smirk.
“And let me tie your hands behind your back?”
Shanks sucked his teeth as he leaned back. You had a second of fear as he started taking his clothes off.
But all he removed was his heavy cloak, revealing that he was missing his left arm. 
Guilt hit you, apologies about to pour out, but he held his palm out. 
“Afraid I can’t do that, but I promise I’ll do the rest. Is that alright, Y/N?”
~
This is really nice soap.
Still on edge, your body started to relax a bit with the delicious smelling soap on your skin. 
But every time you felt a moment of relaxation, you’d remember the pirate on the other side of the door. 
“You’ve gotta make it tighter, sweetie. Otherwise it won’t work.”
That fucking sentence kept tearing through your brain. The way he’d run his fingers across yours while you adjusted the cloth to blindfold him. The way his hair and skin had felt and smelled as you moved it into place. The way he’d rasped those words while he grabbed your wrist to guide you, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting his fingers trail down your skin. 
The way you had let him touch you without arguing. His fingers had taken advantage of the moment, but it had felt almost electric to let him.
“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself.
“Y/N, is everything alright?”
“Uh, yeah. Thank you.”
How did he hear that over the shower?
~
“What the hell is this?”
“Sorry, love, I'm afraid I can't see what you– ow, hold on!”
You definitely had a few red hairs between your fingers after ripping his blindfold off. 
The pirate captain got to his feet to meet your eyes, and fucking snorted.
“What is wrong with you,” you fumed, tossing the blindfold at his face.
The fact that he caught it before it hit him only pissed you off more.
“There has to be something else I can wear,” you demanded, pulling at the frilly lavender dress he stuck you with. You looked like some creepy porcelain doll.
His face was going as red as his hair as he tried not to laugh.
“I’m sorry, no one’s– we don’t have anyone your size,” he choked out, clearing his throat before continuing. “We have a few more dresses like this, though. They were supposed to be a gift for a princess, so you should feel honored!”
“Fuck you.”
His lips were fucking quivering as he fought his laughter. His eyes flicked down to your clenched fists, and he relented.
“Right, sorry, okay! You can have some of my clothes, you’ll just have to roll them up, alright?”
Very judgmentally looking him up and down, you raised your brows at him.
“Do you have any shirts that actually button up all the way? Or do you expect me to let my tits hang out like yours.”
Shanks cackled then, catching himself on the wall, his eyes even tearing up a little. 
You kicked yourself for saying something so sexual in front of a fucking pirate.
“You’re a funny one, fish girl,” he teased between hiccupped laughs, “but you definitely look like a damsel in that dress.”
You kicked the pirate for being such a dick. 
“Fuck, sorry,” he huffed, wincing as he rubbed his shin where you’d kicked it. 
“Follow me. I definitely wanna get you outta that dress– I mean into different clothes,” he almost yelled, warding off a slap with his arm. “So you stop hurting me!”
Practically boiling with a mix of anger, embarrassment, and fear, you let yourself be guided along. The lantern lit halls were roomier than you would have expected, and you could hear the distant voices of the crew. 
“Here we go,” he said gently, opening another large door. He went in first again, and you entered what had to be his quarters.
Of course. We’re getting his clothes. 
It was full of rich, dark woods, red blankets, a desk that seemed to have more bottles of alcohol than anything work related on it, and a delightful, almost spicy scent filling the air. 
The room was a bit messy, and you felt out of place standing there in that frilly dress while he dug through his wardrobe, tossing clothes to the ground as he searched.
“Here, love, how about these?”
“Do you have a belt?”
~
Managing to roll, buckle, and tuck at his clothes, you were mostly satisfied as you checked the mirror.
Even with all the buttons done up, you still had to tie his shirt to keep your chest from popping out like his does. 
“You almost finished? The party’s star…”
Those pretty eyes brightened when you opened the door. His little smirk made you frown, and he held his hand up.
“You were right, Y/N. This definitely suits you better.”
He offered that hand to you, and even in the warm glow of the lanterns, you could see scars, callouses, and thick veins that made your breath hitch for a moment. 
Your hand had almost reached his when he pulled away.
“Almost forgot,” he teased, his voice somehow lower than normal as he stepped out of the doorway for you. “I’ll lose my only hand if I touch you, right?”
“I…”
“Well, I definitely won’t risk that.”
He stepped further back, letting you follow him into the hallway. 
Your brain seemed to stutter, unable to join the moment as it flew through conflicting emotions. 
Like why it upset you that he wouldn’t risk it. 
Shanks moved in close, his spicy scent filling your lungs as you looked up at him. 
“Just let me know if that ever changes.”
He turned away after a subtle wink that made your brain short circuit. 
“You comin’? I’m hungry.”
Still barefoot without your fishy shoes, you chased that red hair down the hallway.
He really is some sort of seduction demon.
~
“Hey, girly. Is this jackass treating you alright?”
“This is how you talk about your captain?”
The older man with long, gray hair ignored Shanks’ protests as he looked you over.
“You should be more worried about him,” you grumbled, narrowing your eyes at the captain.
“Ha, I’m sure you’re right.”
He grinned down at you, before motioning toward the fire. 
“Come on, the food’s almost done.”
The crew had found a remote beach, and set up camp. Their camp supplies seemed to be mostly alcohol. 
Shanks had said they had business here, and that they’d go to the village in about three days.
What kind of business are pirates getting up to on my island?
The thought was pushed aside as Shanks called for you. Most of the pirates were holding their plates, or using boulders or crates while they ate. Captain Shanks had a dingy little table by the fire, and was waving you over. 
“Come on, love. Let’s eat, and find out why that fish of yours is so special.”
The day's events hit you again, but you joined him in a mismatched chair, and grabbed a fork. 
It smelled good.
“Here,” Shanks demanded, shoving a mug of some kind of alcohol into your hand, before standing and lifting his own to address the crew. “Here’s to our luck! We found an unlucky fisherwoman, and now we’ve got good eats. To Y/N!”
The sheer volume of their enthusiasm made your eyes go wide as you faked a sip.
“So tell me, fish girl,” he leaned toward you, the small table not leaving much space between you. “Why is this fish so special?”
Ignoring him, you focused on your plate. The way it looked and smelled was perfect, but you had to know.
He watched your movements, following along as you pierced into the flesh, bringing the first bite to your lips. 
It was perfect. Whoever had cooked it had treated it right. The tender meat and the subtle flavor were given just the amount of spice to balance it out.
It would have sold well. After all it took to get it, you were grateful that it didn’t go to waste, and tasting it yourself was wonderful.
Even if you were sharing it with a pirate.
“This is incredible, Y/N. You really are a fish girl.”
Letting out a sigh, you dug in, trying to enjoy the meal that had put you in this situation. The night was filled with the sounds of music, laughter, and endless calls for cheers, the clanging of metal mugs like the shifting heartbeat of this joyful crew.
“So, I had someone take a look at your boat, in case we could help fix it.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my boat,” you spat out, wishing you could have enjoyed your meal in peace. Without this too fucking handsome and annoying pirate captain.
Shanks tapped his fingers on the table, a smirk playing at his lips. 
“That was the report,” he said softly, the teasing tone building slowly in his voice. “They did say that one of the oars is missing.”
“Thanks for the report,” you grumbled, watching the fire now.
“Come on, just tell me what happened. How’d you get stranded out there?”
“It’s none of your business.”
Your face felt hot, the fire not close enough for the burning in your skin. 
“Consider it payment then. For my clothes, and for my company,” he taunted, his voice dipping low. 
“I could do without the latter.”
“You wound me, sweet damsel.”
He put his hand to his heart, chuckling at your frown before chugging whatever was in his mug.
“It was a really good catch,” you mumbled, giving in. He scooted even closer to you, excitement in those lovely eyes, mixing with the light of the fire.
Shanks kept that beautiful mouth shut, just tilting his head toward yours as he waited.
“My grandma used to talk about her best catch. That was it,” you said flatly, gesturing to your empty plate. “She made me promise that if I ever caught a fish like that, I had to eat it myself, eat it with friends.”
“Don’t waste a fish like that on berry, sugar. It’s a gift.”
He raised his mug as you mimicked your grandma’s voice, and you brought yours up with a sigh, still just pretending to drink.
“I’m honored, then. Your grandma was right, that fish was amazing.”
Memories of her seemed to join you at the table, bittersweet, and heavier than you’d like. 
“Sorry, Y/N. You, uh… You doing okay?”
“I’m fine,” you coughed, a hint of anger back in your voice as you fought against the prickling in your eyes.
“Well,” he drawled out, extending the word for way too long, “you still didn’t tell me how you got stranded out there with nothing but the perfect fish.”
Groaning, you put your forehead on the dingy table and blurted it out, as if you could make it not true if you said it fast enough. 
“I caught the fish. I saw what it was. It started to slip through my hands. I knew it’d sell well, so I didn’t want to lose it. I ended up tripping over one of the oars. I should have let it go, I could have grabbed the oar if I’d seen it slipping. But I was greedy. I wanted to sell that stupid fish instead of eating it, and now grandma’s probably cussing at me from the afterlife.”
Shanks at least had the decency to shove his knuckles between his teeth before he started laughing. 
“Oh, fuck you,” you huffed, standing to leave the captain’s dingy table.
“Wait, please,” he called, catching your fingers in his, and pulling you back toward him. Only to drop your hand as if he’d been burned when you met his eyes.
“Fuck, I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean–”
Whatever you might have said was lost in a wave of too many things at once. Humiliation over the whole thing, fear that these pirates could still hurt you, especially if you fell asleep, and the burning in your stupid cheeks because this gorgeous asshole held your hand. 
What the fuck is wrong with me today?
The moon was mostly full, so there was plenty of light on the sand as you walked away from the camp. They were so fucking noisy, but the ocean beckoned for you to sit, gentle waves like your grandmother’s sweet voice. 
When she wasn’t giving me shit, you thought with a laugh, digging your toes in the sand. 
“The ocean makes me feel better too.”
His deep voice annoyed you more than it startled you. 
Shanks sat beside you, but not too close.
Ignoring him did not make him go away. 
“What do you want?”
“I wanna make your shitty day better. How can I do that?”
“Take me home.”
“Three days on that one, love. Anything more immediate?”
Your plan to stay up all night was already failing, exhaustion dragging you down.
His eyes were so soft under the moon, the hint of a smile brightening his face.
“I don’t want to sleep out in the open with everyone. Is there somewhere… safe where I can sleep?”
Shanks nodded, looking down as he cleared his throat. 
“Of course, let me take you now.”
The ship itself seemed to be sleeping, so quiet with only a handful of crew watching it as the rest camped on the island. 
Red hair under lantern light guided you through those wood paneled halls again, until he led you to the guest quarters. 
“Here’s the key, and you’re welcome to shove this chair under the door knob as well. Breakfast will be at the beach in the morning,” he laughed, running his fingers through his hair. “It’ll probably be the afternoon depending on the hangovers, but you– Are you alright?”
He knelt at your feet, looking you over as you slumped onto the bed.
“How long were you out there today? Have you been drinking water? Are you…”
This charming pirate stopped himself from touching your forehead, and some insane, fatigued part of you reached out, grabbing his hand with both of yours. 
“I lied,” you confessed, voice quiet and close, his pretty eyes on your lips. “I can’t cut your hand off. I’m not armed.”
The slow smile he gave you now was your favorite, somehow making the light in his eyes shine brighter. Your hands reluctantly let go of him as he shifted, but instead of moving away, Shanks touched his calloused fingers to your cheek. 
“Your secret’s safe with me, sweetheart.”
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Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!
a/n: I am obsessed with these two now. What the heck. I need Shanks to make fun of me like that 😅
Tag List: @shewrites02
Part 2
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| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |
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littlestw01f · 29 days
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Flight
Azriel x Reader
AZRIEL MASTERLIST
MAIN MASTERLIST
Summary: Azriel the usually confident male confesses his feelings for his closest friend
CW: Fluff, wing clipping, fluff
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Azriel couldn't believe himself, not when it came to you. How could he have females swoon over just a word from him but could not put what he felt for you each time he looked at you.
The way he smiled at you when you weren't looking, the way he blushed whenever his shadows refused to listen to him and stayed in your hair. It seemed they felt for you precisely what he did, after all, they were an extension of him. He couldn't let go of the feeling of butterflies in his stomach whenever you smiled at him. He had to talk to you, to tell you about how you made him feel. You were one of his closest friends for Couldren's sake.
You stood outside in the balcony of the House of Winds, your Illyrian wings were scared, your family was cureler to their females than usual, you had your wings main membrain, having to carry their weight while the thinner membrains were ripped out, making them useless.
You smiled at the night sky, you always enjoyed being that the House of Winds, you could see the night sky clearer from the hight of the home, the stars always seemed closer like this, as if you could still fly.
"y/n?" You hear Azriel call out when you turn to look at him, his shadows rush to you, playing with your hair drawing a chuckle from you, "How are you feeling?"
You frown slightly at him, "I'm alright, why do you ask?"
"I just..." Azriel came to stand next to you, smiling as his shadows nuzzled into your cheeks. "You looked all sad and melancholy, so I... I wanted to make sure everything was alright."
"I'm not sad," You smile at him, and turn to look back at the sky, "Well, not anymore atleast."
It had only been a few years since you had lost your wings, your wings were a price their inner circle had to pay after Rhysand became High Lord and gave the first command to ban clipping Illyrian females, you were kidnapped while you were in Windhaven with Cassian, a note insulting Rhysand's law in your bed, and in a day of Cassian and Azriel searching for you, they had received the thin membranes of your wings delivered to Rhysand's mother's house.
Azriel had found you soon after that, you were passed out chained up in a small cave of an Illyrian mountain, your father's and brothers's blood coating him as he had gently unchained your wrists and placed your cloak to cover you, his scared hands trembling as his tears feel to your limp body covered in tiny cuts and bruises, his shadows crazed at the thought of you hurt, trying to soothe your cuts with their cool touch.
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Things were quiet, Azriel simply watched you admire the sky, he looked over your face as if memorising every inch of you, he opened his mouth to speak but closed it instantly.
The shadows he had on him whispered in his shoulder when his eyes lit up. "Do you want to go flying?"
"I can't...?" You offer a little confused, moving your wings slightly to prove it.
Azriel's eyes go a little wide and a blush forms on his cheeks, "Oh, I meant, flying with me... I can carry you."
You look at him for a second with a smile stretched across your lips, "You'd take me flying for fun?" The only time you had flown was with the help of Cassian and Rhysand to bring you up and down the House of Winds, they had quite politely put it that Azriel 'did not like passengers'.
"Yeah. I will take you if you want to," Azriel's heart was hammering, matching the speed of yours as you nodded and stepped closer to him. He stretched his wings as he took your hand, wrapping one arm around your waist, his shadows played with your cheeks, hiding in your hair, the two of you froze when Azriel wrapped his arms around you completely, a second in that closeness, a golden thread connected you to him.
Azriel smiled like a faeling with a crush, shooting up to the sky, making you chuckle and wrap your arms around his neck, you smiled wide, seeing the stars at the closeness, the familiar one as Azriel kept going higher, having you both in mid-air he spoke.
"How I wished there was a bond for us, my love." Azriel breathed out, spinning both of you around in the air, his hand joining his shadows over your cheeks, you were still dazzled at the feel of the mating bond forming, "So that there will be something to explain why I feel for you as strongly as I do."
"How I looked up at the same stars you look at and hoped that if I couldn't be bold enough to ask you to be mine, something would align in my favour." Azriel smiled at you while floating, his tone different than you had ever heard, softer, gentler.
"I like you too, Az." You whispered softly, your arms holding tight to not fall into the sidra. As you looked at him, you realised that you had never been this close to him before.
Azriel smiled, releasing a loud sigh, "I'm glad, otherwise my ten step first date I have planned for us with all of your favourite things to do might have made me look like an idiot."
"I... I would like that." You beamed up at him. Your heart beating like a hummingbird's, "To... To go on a date with you."
"And," Azriel looked a little nervous, "If you still like me by the end of it, maybe we could be something more than friends?"
You nod happily, "Yes. Yes, I'd loved that."
He pulled you in for a soft kiss, a laugh leaving you after you pulled back, "My mate," Azriel smiled after the kiss, the shadows that wrapped themselves around his hand and your face seemed to growl.
"Fine," Azriel rolled his eyes making you snort softly, "Our mate." He corrected before pulling you back in a kiss. His shadows content on your body, pushing your body close to his, enveloping you both in their enclosed darkness.
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{Azriel Masterlist: @fxckmiup}
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fatehbaz · 1 year
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“Is it green energy if it’s impacting cultural traditional sites?”
Yakama Nation Tribal Councilman Jeremy Takala sounded weary. For five years, tribal leaders and staff have been fighting a renewable energy development that could permanently destroy tribal cultural property. “This area, it’s irreplaceable.”
The privately owned land, outside Goldendale, Washington, is called Pushpum, or “mother of roots,” a first foods seed bank. The Yakama people have treaty-protected gathering rights there. One wind turbine-studded ridge, Juniper Point, is the proposed site of a pumped hydro storage facility. But to build it, Boston-based Rye Development would have to carve up Pushpum — and the Yakama Nation lacks a realistic way to stop it.
Back in October 2008, unbeknownst to Takala, Scott Tillman, CEO of Golden Northwest Aluminum Corporation, met with the Northwest Power and Conservation Council, a collection of governor-appointed representatives from Washington, Oregon, Idaho and Montana [...]. Tillman, who owned a shuttered Lockheed Martin aluminum smelter near Goldendale, told the council about the contaminated site’s redevelopment potential, specifically for pumped hydro storage [...]. Shortly thereafter, Klickitat County’s public utility department tried to implement Tillman’s plan [...].
Meanwhile, Tillman cleaned up and sold another smelting site, just across the Columbia River in The Dalles, Oregon, a Superfund site where Lockheed Martin had poisoned the groundwater with cyanide. He sold it to Google’s parent company, Alphabet, which operates water-guzzling data centers in The Dalles and plans to build more. For nine years, the county and Rye plotted the fate of Pushpum — without ever notifying the Yakama Nation.
The tribal government only learned of the development in December 2017, when the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission (FERC) issued a public notice of acceptance for Rye’s preliminary permit application. Tribal officials had just 60 days to catch up on nine years of development planning and issue their initial concerns and objections as public comments. [...]
When the tribe objected, FERC said it could file more public comments to the docket instead of consulting. [...]
When asked what Rye could offer the Yakama people as compensation for the irreversible destruction of their cultural property, Steimle suggested “employment associated with the project.” [...] Presented with the reality that Yakama people might not want Rye’s jobs, Steimle hesitated. “Yeah, I mean I, I can’t argue that — maybe it won’t be meaningful to them.” [...]
Klickitat County’s eagerness creates another barrier to the Yakama Nation. In Washington, a developer can take one of two permitting paths: through the state’s Energy Facility Site Evaluation Council, or through county channels. Both lead to FERC. In this case, working with the county benefits Rye: Klickitat, a majority Republican county, has a contentious relationship with the Yakama Nation [...]. “Klickitat County refuses to work with us,” said Takala. [...]
Fighting Rye's proposal has required the efforts of tribal attorneys, archaeologists and government staffers from a number of departments. [...]
And Rye’s project is just one of dozens proposed within the Yakama Nation’s 10 million-acre treaty territory. Maps from the tribe and the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife show that of the 51 wind and solar projects currently proposed statewide — not including geothermal or pumped hydro storage projects, which are also renewable energy developments — at least 34 are on or partially on the Yakama Nation’s ceded lands.
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---
Headline, images, graphics, captions, and text by: B. Toastie Oaster (High Country News). “Green colonialism is flooding the Pacific Northwest.” As published at The Wenatchee World. 25 March 2023.
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megumishotgf · 1 year
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cabin holiday with bf! katsuki
summary: going on a cabin vacation with your pro-hero boyfriend, katsuki.
warnings: some nsfw content (like three sentences detailing sex) oopsie
masterlist
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thinking about renting a cabin in the middle of nowhere with katsuki. he sustained a injury during a difficult mission a few weeks ago and the hero commission insisted he couldn’t come back yet. you know how damn impatient your boyfriend is - he is itching to get back to his job. he physically cannot function without a routine. staying in bed all day? not a chance in hell.
you suggest going away with katsuki for the final week of his time off. he agrees because what the hell else is he supposed to do with his time? also, he can’t say no to you. he feels like a fucking caveman for the first few days because there’s no internet. he’s always complaining.
“y/n, the hell did you bring me to this dump for?”
“you’re annoying. no, i’m not going to a damn spa!”
“there’s nothing to fucking do here. guess we’re going to have to fuck all day.”
but he settles in quickly. katuski is the perfect housewife. he cooks three meals a day for you, makes sure the fireplace is stocked on wood, makes sure the windows are closed so you don’t get those damn mosquitos inside… and, of course, he will act as if it’s the worst thing ever but he loves being able to take care of you. even if you insist it’s his time to rest, you know he hates being kept still and having nothing to do.
as katsu said, you have sex all the time. in front of the fireplace, in the shower, in the hot tub, on the kitchen counters… any surface there is, he wants you bent over it and begging for it.
on the second day, you decide to go on a hike around the cabin. you’re surrounded by tall forestland. the earthy air smells so good in places like this. you can hear birds singing sweet songs, branches crackling underneath your feet and… katsuki’s beautifully gruff voice. careful, dumb ass! do you want to fall over and die?
he’s concerned (terrified) that you’ll run into a bear but you tell him he’s just being silly. although if you were to encounter one, they would definitely feel threatened by your angry spiky-haired boyfriend who constantly looks like he’s about to throw hands.
remember the spa you mentioned? the one katsuki refused to go to? after some convincing and head he agrees to go. but never for a massage. he doesn’t want anyone’s damn hands on him but yours. you spend time in the sauna, the pool and finish the day with manicures. of course, katsuki gets one nail painted to match the pretty colour on yours. afterwards, you’re glowing radiantly and he can visibly see you more relaxed. he notes to agree next time you suggest having a spa day.
the next morning, it’s beautifully sunny. the weather is uplifting and you wake up earlier than usual to start your day, the golden hues all around the cabin making you feel energised. katsuki has already gotten up to do a quick work-out (he won’t listen to you when you reprimand him about his injury). you suggest going out for a bike ride to appreciate the beautiful day.
on your bike journey, you drive past a field full of flowers. there’s lawns of wild flowers growing and swaying gently in the wind. you’ll stop to collect some. katsuki will take one of the daisies you picked up and tuck it behind your ear. my pretty baby, he’ll call you. your heart swells at his softness. you love seeing this side of him. the special side reserved only for you to see.
on your final day, you and katsuki decide to stay in the cabin and relax. it’s colder today, despite the sunny weather you had just the day before. katsu makes you your favourite breakfast. yeah, yeah brat. i didn’t make this for you. but of course he did. he always makes sure you’re eating well. he can’t keep his hands off you normally, but today he seems to be unable to let go of you.
the day ends in fucking great sex. katsuki is so touchy today and makes you feel so loved and desired. he’s got his hands all over you, his cock making sure to hit all your favourite spots. after prepping you with his fingers and mouth, obviously. and he drags it on so long until you’re begging for him to get to it. but he just wants to savour you and this moment. you’re so pretty. his pretty girl.
he’ll end the day confessing he’s going to miss this. and it hits you then that’s why he’s being so touchy. you’ll make an ‘aw’ sound because your boyfriend is so freaking cute. he scoffs when you call him that, though. katsuki gets back to work shortly after you come home. he’ll think of the night you fucked in front of the fireplace often and it’ll get him so noticeably hard.
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awriternamedart · 6 months
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"Are- Are you not afraid?! You are challenged by a god, afterall!!"
The Traveler did not lower their sword, refusing to break their stance and eye contact with the God of Hydro. A beat of silence passed.
"Dvalin, Dragon of the West."
"What..?" Furina dropped the hands on her hips, confusion prominant. Whispers began to circulate again, this time louder. Even Lyney and Lynette looked over at the Traveler again, curious.
"Borieus, Wolf of the North." They took a step. "Tartaglia, 11th Harbinger."
"Wait, these are-" Paimon's eyes widened as they realized what was going on, tugging on the Travelers shoulder. "Traveler?!"
"Osial, Sea God, his wife. Azdaha, Dragon of Earth. Signora, 8th Harbinger. The Raiden Shogun, Almighty Narukami, thrice." Their stance shifted, taking another step towards the god who stood above them. "The God of Arcane Wisdom. Apep, Dragon of Dendro. Countless beings across the lands, Oceanids, Hypostasi, Abyssal creatures, more."
"Cease your name-calling, what is the meaning of this?!" Furina stamped one of her feet against the box she stood upon, the hollow sound echoing. "Tell me, at once!"
"The names of those who have challenged me, and yet here I stand."
The water in the docks surged up, golden spikes eminating of Geo kicking up dust with the rise of the wind. Electricity crackled in the air, vines and grass nearby sprouting up to its masters call as the Traveler cocked their sword once again, a small smirk on their face as the blade caught the light.
"Are you next, Focalors?"
-
i think we underestimate just how much kf a badass rhe traveler could have been to the initial scene where we met furina
just sayin
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nataliawrites · 1 year
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Sweeter Than Revenge // Toto Wolff
Toto Wolff x Verstappen!Reader
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Toto Wolff was a perfectionist. He demanded nothing but the best. He refused to settle for second or third. He knew what he wanted and he knew how to get what he wanted.
That’s where you come in. Some would call you a jack of all trades. Despite your relatively young age, you had graduated at the top of your Oxford class with a Doctorate in Engineering Science — specializing in automotive and mechanical engineering — and a Masters in Strategy and Innovation. Your thesis on exploiting friction and wind resistance instead of battling against it caught the eye of numerous car manufacturers, all wanting to snatch up the mind behind the innovate approach that could revolutionize the industry.
But when Formula 1 teams joined the fray for your employment, your mind was made up the second you saw the email from the Mercedes-AMG Petronas team principal himself. The exorbitant salary, company car, and executive position Toto was offering you were benefits but they paled in comparison to the opportunity to do the one thing you had been waiting for since you permanently left home at 18 years old — prove the people that you had once called family wrong.
Growing up as the eldest child of Jos Verstappen and half-sister to Max Verstappen was anything but sunshine and rainbows. Constantly in the shadow of your younger brother. Always ignored in favor of your father’s golden son. Never receiving approval or the affection you desired after the loss of your mother. Always an afterthought to racing.
When you moved to an entirely different country, merely a teenager yourself, the only communication you received from your family was a text message from Jos reminding you “not to embarrass the family name” a few months after you started university. So you powered forward, completely alone in a foreign country and forced to work two jobs on top of school, but finding solace in your studies.
Now, as you hit send on your response to Toto Wolff, all of your struggles were going to pay off.
Not long after, you were invited to formally meet the team and sign all the necessary paperwork in the beginning of the offseason. You made the drive to Brackley and smoothed your power suit before entering the team’s technology center. A composed receptionist took your name before guiding you down the halls lined with moments and memorabilia from team history and leaving you in front of a door with a steel “Toto Wolff” nameplate on it.
You took a moment to collect yourself and rapped your knuckles against the solid wooden door, turning the handle when a deep accented voice from within the office told you to enter. The Austrian, who painted an imposing picture behind his desk, rose to greet you with a firm handshake. You quickly realized that he was tall and fit and, despite how hard you tried to keep your mind professional, extremely handsome.
“Dr. Verstappen, it’s great to finally meet you,” Toto motioned for you to sit down across the desk from him.
“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Wolff. I am so grateful for this opportunity.”
“The pleasure is ours. We are very excited to have you onboard this coming season. And, please, call me Toto.”
“Then you must call me Y/N. And while we’re on the topic of names, I’m sure you’ve noticed mine.”
Toto leaned back in his leather chair, “a funny coincidence to be sure. I hope that doesn’t mean you cheer for Red Bull.”
You hid a wince at his joking tone, “about that … it’s not exactly a coincidence. Max Verstappen is my brother. Half-brother if you want to get technical.”
You continue as you see him about to speak, “let me assure you that this will have no negative impact on my work with you. If anything, it will make me work harder towards the team’s success. I don’t exactly go around making this public knowledge, but my childhood was not the best and I haven’t spoken to my brother or my father since I first moved out at 18. They never supported me or showed that they cared about me. I’m doing this for myself. I’m going to help Mercedes win to prove them wrong.”
Your heart pounded out of your chest as Toto impassively stared into your soul. “I believe you.” A breath you didn’t even realize you were holding rushed out in relief. “I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Jos Verstappen and what you’ve told me does not exactly come as a surprise.”
“Thank you, Toto. I promise you won’t regret it. We’ll get Mercedes back on top.”
“I am counting on it. Welcome to the team.”
You spent the rest of the off-season working more often than not, applying the research your Doctorate was built on to the car and optimizing it as much as possible. You spent your days working closely with the engineering team and both Lewis Hamilton and George Russell, gathering as much data as possible before you flew out to pre-season testing. Your evenings were usually taken up by Toto, the both of you workaholics who stayed far past the time that everyone else had left, typically discussing strategy and your mutual loathing of Red Bull over dinner that was ordered into the office.
The attraction that you felt upon first meeting your boss grew more and more as you got to know him better. While his handsomeness certainly didn’t hurt, his intelligence and passion truly did it for you. His age didn’t bother you — boys your age certainly left something to be desired — but you refused to be known as the woman who slept her way to the top (despite how unfair and inaccurate that would be) in a heavily male dominated field. So you used all your willpower to stay professional and prayed that Toto didn’t notice when you would gaze at his lips or his forearms or his chest in that famous button up shirt for a bit longer than strictly appropriate.
There was no way that Toto Wolff could possibly reciprocate your feelings so your resolved to keep them tightly bottled up.
He had a different idea.
You were in Toto’s office to mark your last dinner before flying to Bahrain for pre-season testing, lightly talking over a bottle of wine, when he abruptly set down his glass and looked resolutely down at you. “Tell me if I’ve misread the situation,” he pushed your plates to the side, uncaring, as he reached out to pull you across the desk and towards him.
You seized up in shock but melted as he crashed his lips to yours.
You gathered what little common sense you had remaining to detach yourself from him, “Toto, we can’t.”
His eyes went guarded, “Do you not feel the same way?”
“No but-“
“Then why?”
“Because you’re my boss! Because even the thought of this is unprofessional! Because it can ruin both of us!”
“But you want this.” He said it as a statement.
“Of course I do,” you deflate. “But we can’t-“
“And I want this too. I want you. You are strikingly intelligent and incredibly beautiful. We are both consenting adults and the team does not have a fraternization policy. There is no reason we must suffer in restraint.”
He takes both of your hands, engulfing then with his large ones before continuing, “you have been taking care of yourself for so long. Now, let me take care of you.”
You were extremely thankful the next morning that you accepted Toto’s offer to join him on his private jet instead of flying commercial charter with the rest of the team. At least this way he had time to drop you off at your apartment so you could pick up your luggage on the way to the airport without having to rush.
The other perks were pretty nice too. If you had told your younger self that you would be joining the Mile High Club with Toto Wolff on a private jet heading to Bahrain for the start of the Formula 1 season, you would have laughed in your own face (and then tried to work out the physics of how you time traveled to see your younger self in the first place).
Once in Bahrain, you jumped into the beautiful chaos that is the F1 season head first. Mercedes started off on a much higher note than last year and the mood around the garage remained light as the team kept the momentum going. It quickly became common to see 1-2 Mercedes finishes or at the very least both Mercedes drivers on the podium as the optimized car and your unorthodox strategies gave them the extra edge.
You and Toto tried to steal as many moments together as you could away from the hurricane of work that sometimes swallowed you up. Soon, neither of you particularly trying to keep your progressing relationship a secret, the rest of the team became aware that you were together. Despite your initial fears of backlash, you were met with support and the worst you got from the team was gentle teasing about managing to tame the infamous Toto Wolff.
As the season unfurled, neither your father nor brother had noticed you working for their rival. While photos of you with Toto, your drivers, and generally around the team did circulate, neither of them made the connection between the woman in Mercedes gear and the daughter and sister they cut off years ago. You ignored the traitorous pang in your heart every time Max or Jos’ eyes glossed over you, not realizing who they were looking at.
Or at least they didn’t until the FIA Prize Giving ceremony.
Toto was attending to receive the Constructors’ Championship trophy while your drivers collected their respective Drivers’ Championship and second-place trophies and you had come along as his date. While making the rounds on Toto’s arm at the gala after the ceremony, Max happened to overhear Toto introducing you to an acquaintance and your brother’s head snapped up at the sound of your name.
Max stared at the woman with Toto. It couldn’t be … but she had the same face shape and nose shape and hair color he remembered. His feet moved towards you before he could help himself, “Y/N?”
You heard the familiar voice interject from behind you and steeled yourself before turning around, “Max.”
“Is it really you?”
“Last time I checked.”
Toto had managed to excuse himself from his conversation and joined the awkward reunion between the estranged Verstappen siblings.
“Verstappen,” he nodded a curt greeting.
Your brother paused, looking between you and Toto, “wait-wait. You and him? You’re together?”
“For a while now,” you gained some satisfaction from the mix of emotions, none of them pleasant, that crossed Max’s face. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice earlier. I mean, Toto and I did only meet because I work for Mercedes. I’ve been around the paddock every race.”
You didn’t notice the approach of your father until you looked at Max’s wide eyes frozen on someone behind you.
“How dare you! To go against your own family? To actively work against your brother?”
“Hello, father. How are you? I’ve been great! It’s only been a little under a decade since I’ve heard from you.”
“Why you little who-”
Toto stepped in front of you before your father could finish what was sure to be a very complementary sentence, “Verstappen, I would stop it right there if I was you.”
“I always knew Y/N was an embarrassment but even I didn’t expect for her to become a gold digger going after men her father’s age.”
Toto came to your rescue once again, “she’s far from a gold digger. Y/N is Mercedes’ Executive Engineer and Strategist. She’s a large reason why we beat your son all season long.”
“What she is,” Jos spit out, “is a shame to the Verstappen name.”
Toto resolutely held you close, “then it’s a good thing she won’t be a Verstappen for much longer.”
Taking the opportunity, you raised your entwined hands to show off the diamond ring that graced your ring finger since Toto took you on vacation to the Seychelles and surprised you with a beautiful proposal a week ago.
“Max, Jos … we’ll be sure not to invite you to the wedding.”
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ravenyenn19 · 9 months
Text
Six of Crows future head cannon:
Alby Rollins joins the Dregs.
Picture it: 1920’s-esque Ketterdam, 10 years post Sweet Reef/ Ice Court. Slick Rolls Royce cars line the cobbled streets, a city spiraling toward a new age. Rain drenches the obscure signs & hidden arrows pointing to the Speak-Easy halls. In a time of prohibition… down, down, down must one go in the Barrel to find the most notorious of them all. A slice of sin, six feet under. A crowd drunk off vice served in black tea cups.
The young man walks into Kaz Brekker’s office (after fighting his way there), sits himself in a chair opposite a great obsidian desk. Winded & lip still bleeding from his tousle with the men at the doors, Alby wheezes: “Teach me.”
In turn, A near 30 year old Kaz smirks. “I thought lions preferred their pride.”
Alby, barely pushing 17, gives a smile of a golden boy, nervous but strong enough to hold the gaze of a devil. (He’s practiced.) “I thought Crows scavengers. Here I am, a shine for the taking.”
“Still have that crow, little lion?” A feminine shadow whispers from the corner. Unnoticed by the young man previously, he clicks his teeth but still refuses to show fear. A serpent-like bead of sweat slides down his spine, a shiver chasing after. He holds firm, biting his cheek to hide the startle.
He knows this shadow, this phantom. She haunted him, once.
“I buried it with my father,” the Kaelish prince whispers, “or rather, in place of him. Never did find a body. Pity.” He shrugs.
Kaz’s eyes glint like a cat’s, his smile a loaded gun. A gloved hand stretches halfway across the table in offering. “All right, cub. What do you want?”
Alby reaches forward, feeling the cold black leather of Dirtyhands’ grip between his fingers. The moment is a stormy crossroads, a whip between his shoulders reminiscent of his father’s favorite belt. He smiles, for this is a pain Alby has been walking toward since the day he woke up clutching stuffed black feathers.
(His blood never did bleed emerald.)
More than one answer to Kaz’s stinging question come to mind, nettles along the path of his thoughts. Yet, only one pricks Alby into speaking, the rage in his voice real rather than bravado. “Revenge.”
The Wraith giggles roughly, slipping herself to the arm of Kaz’s chair on silent feet. Alby swallows.
“On me?” The leader of the Dregs rasps, a brow peaked with amusement. His wife smiles with closed lips, knives glinting along her body like hungry specters. For here, her teeth are shown. Alby knows she Captain’s a fleet of the deadliest ships in the True Sea. He drags his gaze from her quickly.
“No.” Alby stutters, but he does not lie. Kaz Brekker bested his abusive father, and he does not care about Pekka’s death. In fact, sitting with the suspected murderers, Alby finds he rather prefers their company.
Kaz reclines in his chair, a hand lazily splayed on Captain Ghafa’s knee. He regards Alby with black eyes, a sharpness that pierces through his strength but doesn’t shatter it. A blade meant to probe. A test of mettle. Alby has waited too long for this audience, he cannot lose it. A moment passes.
Dirtyhands looks to his wife, his Wraith. She quirks her head in the silent exchange. Six heart beats have passed, and Alby Rollins is certain he won’t leave this room. He waits for the snap of a cane to bank his vision, a warm blanket of red to cover him from the jugular down.
He waits for death, but does not invite it. It does not come.
Instead, a voice like choking smoke, “Then let us begin.”
Alby Rollins releases a breath. His knuckles loosen in parts. A tattooist is called in.
The Crow & Cup bleeds as it settles, accepting the fresh skin as it’s master’s tithe.
Alby sits taller, a prince of a different kind, a darker throne.
I don’t make the rules but this is now my personal agenda & important that u agree
Crap now I have to put it in a fic
Should I do it?
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nicotheghoul · 4 months
Text
CASPER HC'S!
Mc getting him a sunflower plushie!
C: "Is this a sunflower plush? Why?"
MC: "Yes. It is. Remember how the first flowers you gave me were sunflowers?"
C: "Oh...yes...I remember that. But why a plushie?"
MC: "You said sunflowers remind me of you. Plus, this one can't die."
C: "...I maybe hate you for that."
He says that he maybe hates MC because he refuses to admit that the sunflower plushie made him happy, and since he can't lie he had to dance around the truth.
First date scenario after ending 3!
Varying shades of golden yellow wave in the wind. The crunching of walking as you both hold hands in silence, walking through the sunflower field as you enjoy eachothers presence. Suddenly, Casper stops and turns towards you.
C: "Sunshine?"
He asks softly, smiling.
MC: "Yes, love..?"
You reply, tilting your head.
C: "....Fuck..how do I say this..."
He mutters under his breath, sounding nervous as he glances at the ground. The sun setting in the background, a beautiful scene playing out in front of your eyes. A blushing Casper who's nervous to say whatever he wants to, standing in a sunflower field while the sunsets behind him. Not just any sunflower field, however, but the sunflower field that he imagines your wedding taking place in.
C: "Ah uhm...you're...goregous, amazing, kind, perfect..."
He continues to spew out compliments to you until his breath hitches in his throat, then silence. He sighs and speaks once more.
C: "...My sunflower, what I'm trying to say is that you mean the world and more to me. I....appreciate you...I appreciate everything you've done for me. I've never had anybody care for me quite like you do...so thank you."
He brushed some of his long white hair behind his ear and glances away, clearly flustered by his own words.
I also hc that along with calling MC sunshine, he calls them his sunflower.
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fluorynn · 8 days
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🥀— 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞.
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𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : tsu’tey ✘ omaticaya!fem!reader
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 / 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 : ANGST, heavy angst, heavy dialogue (?) descriptions of blood, injuries, tsu’tey’s kuru is severed, tsu’tey’s death, stubbornness, crying, mild fluff —
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 3.4k+
𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 : @iwannabeapinkaesthetic @bridgechazlyn @nana-muffin @avatarloverfrfr @talanyra @dvxsja @ikeyniofthetayrangi
𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐲 : @cafekitsune !!!
author’s note : I don’t know what to feel about this one LOL — Tsu’tey deserved the BETTER😭😭😭 I hope you like ! Sorry I’m advance as well — comments/reblogs are always appreciated <33
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Right when it occurred, something did not feel right. There is an odd sensation stirring in the hollow of her stomach. It could not be the adrenaline that had taken its course within her body for she had anticipated it, nor could it be the minor, barely visible cuts created by the Sky Demons’ graze of foolish weaponry for while it burned only the slightest bit, it wasn’t extreme enough to draw pools of blood.
Grunts of an odd, internal wound left her yet she, with all her restraint, refused to acknowledge it right then and there and gently patted the side of her ikran for she too felt it, she too felt the distress, the slight yet sudden tear of something, of someone apart from her sole rider. Golden eyes waste no second in searching, mind voicing for her ikran to halt the strong, frenzied flaps of her wings.
She shuts out the sounds of the Sky demon’s flying equipment, the war cries the Na’vi created, and waits. Waits and observes, observes and listens, straining every one of her senses; frantic became her gaze as the feeling within her spiraled, harsh and swishing became Pandora’s winds as it surged through her limbs, aching swirled her heartbeat, lips whispering faint murmurs, longing for the presence, the call of him.
A pair of ears, belonging to the woman who had bound her life to him under the will of Eywa, hitched high and flickered at the agonized screech which sharply pierced through the air, coming from a specific aircraft until it soon began its descent down to Pandora’s ground. She wasted no second in trying to comprehend where, who the cry derived from, and the ears once chirped high faltered for a brief second as she picked it apart while panic, fear, the scorching pain corporeally and spiritually exceeded throughout her as she did.
Wretched. Agonizing. Appalling.
The cry which ripples from deep within Tsu'tey's lungs, clawing through the inward flesh until it reached the base of his throat and had been unleashed, is to be described as those precise words.
“Tsu’tey!”
Actions transpire before thoughts could be formed, her high chirp commanding her ikran to acutely glide down, right towards where the prolonged blue frame plummets down, the harsh ruffles of the branches due to her reckless speed being disregarded despite the gnashes they sliced across her striped flesh.
The churn spasms furthermore from the core of her being; burning, afflicting, and it is when she reaches him, the one bound to be her mate soon, her Tsu’tey lying on the grassed ground, that she is met with the dejected notion weighing upon her.
Despite the physical agony he is currently experiencing, he feels her — his serenity, the compliment to his being, the support and sustainment to his unbalanced character — close by. A palm clasps below his chest piece just to cover, to perhaps hide from her that he is hurt. His innards burn, gnaw, coil with each breath he tries taking. He coughs and despite the burn of it, he calls out to her.
“Y-yawnetu.” ( loved one )
“Ma Tsu’tey –”
Yet she is already rushing to him, descending onto her knees right beside him. She did not know where to begin. Act nearly transpired before thought once more, until she catches the way he holds himself. The pain submerged from not just him but her with each hurried step she had taken, each ragged breath she had taken, and so when her hand reached to touch just over his wounded chest, it became vivid, blistering.
A violent racketting envelops him entirely at the feel, a grunt spewing from his lips and it instantly makes her touch retract from him, hissing more so in distress at the notion of her mate being injured at the hands of them. Not even them, but guided by their coward minds and dastard hearts with what they called a gun.
Her mouth parches, her throat tightening as she tries to speak through her anger and pain. “T-tsap’alute si ( I apologize ). You are hurt, w-we have to get you to–”
His head created the smallest head shakes only for him to wince rather visibly, reaching for her hand. “Stay. T-touch –”
Hesitantly, she did as he said though she notices his discomfort and instead goes to cradle the upper curve of his head, but there’s slight space between for with the bit of strength he carries he uses to keep his head up.
The pressure of her palm rumbles a sound from his chest and she notices how his jaw narrows, how his ear winces. “Hurts?”
“T’s n-nothing. Fine, I’m fine.” He breathes in before his long fingers loosely wrap around her forearm, and his browline tugs down at the dry blood latching, the gnashes littering her skin. He, even in this situation, firmly states rather than questions: “You are hurt. T-they hurt you – did they–”
“I am fine, tiyawn. I am fine – my fault. I was rushing to come to you –”
His sharp eyes blaze and upper lip curls over his teeth as he hisses. “Must be more c-careful! Demons could have…have killed you. M-must think now more than ever —”
“ I will – but I am fine, I promise.” She assures and with her other hand she cradles his jaw, feeling it condense before trying to get him to calm down for she sees how agitated he became.
“Syeha si ( breathe ), Tsu’tey. Tsyeha si.” He exhales then tries to inhale only for the passage of his throat to obstruct with a gush of something; iron tang distastefully becoming one with his taste buds, the sudden swarm of liquid causing a choke-like sound to form at the back of his throat. Fearful, she wastes no time in moving the current hand on his head to the upper backside of his neck to slightly elevate him despite his strained protest.
“I— fine. I am fine–”
Her other hand leaves Tsu’tey’s cheek and goes to the base of her throat, right over the beaded necklace crafted by his very hands, the very blood stained hands that tear from his wound and reach for hers to stop her from acting. “ You are not fine! You are wounded, for Eywa’s sake! We must call for help—”
She watches how Tsu’tey tries to resist crumbling his features when her fingers brush up his neck, halting just right below the start of his kuru. He watches in anguish as the irises within her golden hues dilate, nearly becoming one with the other. She feels it undone, the braid, and with it undone, it is unprotected yet for whatever cause would it be? He feels the ghost of her touch over its bareness lurk down, and he grunts loudly as he shifts to stop her. “Ma yawnetu, please–”
But now the simple act of doing so becomes toilsome and painful, provoking an excruciating groan out of him and she’s haste in halting him from creating any more movement. “Ftang (stop).”
Tsu’tey is apprehensive, forming the weakest scowl as she gives him a pointed look. Perhaps it was because Tsu’tey was in her presence – the woman who succeeded to take his stoic mask off, to soothe the scowl constantly twisting his face. It was then that she found herself seeing him better then he saw himself – who he truly was, is, and bound to become. To her it was a must to be by his side, and to him it was an odd yet yearning-to-the-bone necessity to have her with him, to see her the way she sees him.
So with that, he releases a ragged breath but lets her and she resumes her act — not near enough to make contact with it, but near enough for him to feel it hovering. Enough for him to choke on a gasp and clutch onto her forearm when she reached the end which rested right by his side.
She too feels the sensation of it, of what he’s feeling in this second, of what he’s been feeling when he met the ground. She feels him, the one who's supposed to be her mate, experiencing the most indescribable pain there is for the Na’vi: the only true connection to the wonders within Pandora, to their Great Mother being torn off. To the one bound to be their mate for eternity.
The notion crashes down on her stronger, becoming sole with the ache stirring within. She says nothing for a long time and tries pushing through the muskiness enveloping her vision, wanting to take him in; colorants of yellow and ebony streaked boldly on the sides of his scalp, and she recalls being the one putting them there, she recalls how all the tension and worries seemed to have faded away from Tsu’tey when the lovely strokes of her paint-dipped fingertips specifically striped upon certain parts of his angular features as well, somewhat enhancing them and his azure tones – yet now the color scheme was assisted by blemishes and smudges of red, and the fierceness he once carried before this battle occurred vanished. This is an entirely different Tsu’tey that no other has ever witnessed, — and if it weren’t for one of the reasons being that he was too damaged, too hurt and strained, she would have smiled softly down at him and bathe him in all the love and happiness there was within her because of him — one even she hasn’t witnessed — the closest ever being was when Sylwanin passed.
“Let me take you to Tsahik. You are Olo’eyktan. I-important and must stay alive, let me call for help so we can take you back –”
“I am far too injured for Tsahik to fix this. There is a battle happening at this moment, woman. We cannot let this interfere. They all need to fight for our People. Our home.” he grunts , nose scrunching at the raise of his tone. “And a demon weapon striked me…sa’nok died from it. Even if we try, it will be too late—”
“Toruk Makto will know what to do.” she quickly interjects. “He was one of them, h-he will save us. Will save you, ma Tsu’tey. He will not leave the People without their Olo’eyktan. H-he —”
“Then he will be the one to lead the People.”
He can’t fight the subtle twitch of his lip at how her ears perch at this, and she frowns deeply, just like he expected her too. She didn’t dislike Jakesully while she was wary of him at the beginning. Yet he earned trust, a rightful place among the Omaticaya. Even so, that place was not, isn’t, what Tsu’tey is suggesting.
“But he…y-you are Olo’eyktan. Our guidance, our leader.” she takes in a sharp breath and blinks rapidly as he stares up at her. “You…you are to b-be my mate. And I yours, yes?”
Purple swelled beneath the ebony striped beneath Tsu’tey’s eyes, pronouncing the anguish and disappointment lodged within his pupils, weighing down upon him. His lower lip quivers when he grabs ruptured queue, and it takes everything in him to not yell.
He speaks through sputtered syllables. “I…I c-cannot ride again. Cannot be guided with the voice o-of Eywa. C-cannot lead the People and be strong Olo’eyktan because of this –”
The smallest whimper he made causes her to hold back her own, ears catching onto the way his breath hitched. He releases his hold on his queue and let’s it falls back to his chest in order to apply pressure to evict the constant drain of blood even though at this point it is inevitable. His other hand tries to grasp onto something, anything to sustain himself. She is quick to grab it, guiding it towards her, right above the part he painted over — fingers dipped in turquoise-colored paint at the beginning yet now taints with the boldness of crimson, the length of his fingers curling from the curve of her shoulder while his palm had pressed above the side of her chest right near her heartbeat, the closest thing he was to ever feeling.
He finds grounding, he finds the guidance of her heartbeat, of her touch but it isn’t nor will it ever be like how it’s supposed to. Inhaling through flared nostrils, as if preparing to say the words he wished so desperately to not be true, he utters the words that unfortunately confirmed her very thoughts:
“But overall…I-I will not be able to form tsaheylu with you, yawnetu. You will not have a true mate. A-and I will no be able to feel you…to truly have you under the will of our Great Mother.”
It was effortless to push away the wretched feeling ripping inside of her — but stubbornness is almost as if it is one with her. Something Tsu’tey both adored and despised at times – and in this case, he isn’t exactly certain which he feels right now.
A sob heaves from her chest, feeling so utterly pathetic when tears continue welling in her eyes. “K-kehe ( no ). You have always had me — no matter tsaheylu. You’ve felt, known and seen me, ma Tsu’tey. I feel, know and see you then and now. Please let me continue — let us go—”
“Oeru yawne ( my love )…” The expanse of his palm slides up to her neck, gently enveloping her drenched cheek and weakly frowns at how he’s grimming her beautiful face with his own blood. It is too much; the raw truth of it all, the rasped breath of his tender words, the quivers of his palm due to his pain, tears cascading from her eyes and coating her cheeks, him giving the mantle to someone else and accepting it, the sinking fact that the first and only thing she can and will ever solely, truly feel from Tsu’tey, the man who she’s chosen to be with for the rest of her life as he has chosen her with no hesitation, was him hurting, him processing it with the same pace as she is.
He says nothing for a second, simply letting himself scrutinize and adore her and gather his words. “It is worse to go through this life without purpose than to die. A-a feel without you, oeru yawne, has no purpose.”
“And a life without you has no purpose!” Her voice grows harsher, words broken. “Is that what you want to do to me, hm? Leave me with no purpose?”
“You will have the People—”
“It isn’t the same! A-and so will you if you choose to see the light of this—”
“Ma Y/N.” It isn’t firm, his tone when saying her name. But it is enough for her to stay quiet, ears flattening at the sides of her head.
“Me…just being me will not suffice for the People. And while I am more than happy to know that it is sufficient for you… it is not for me.” The octave of his voice is tremulous, barely audible to ears as he peers up at her. “Not when knowing I cannot satisfy those around me — it will not be enough from my part…for them. For you. Especially with everything you have given me.” He gives her one of his truest smiles despite the red that now streams out the corners, coughing afterwards.
The pad of her thumb swats the blood away, knowing what he was doing with his words. She badly wants to frown at him, to tell him it is not the time to be smiling but she can’t help the pure allure she has to his lovely expression. She can’t help herself from tilting her head and questioning, “What have I given to you?”
“Patience. Peace.” His eyes close a second as he sighs. “Even through grief, through loss and chaos, you chose me. It is as you say; you’ve felt and have known and seen me. While my mind was to be dutiful to the People…my heart was purposeful to you.”
Nuzzling into her touch, he breathes out, “and now I accept this — because I’m in the presence of you. It is…a bit more peaceful.”
“Y-you skxawng.” she chokes out for she doesn’t know what to say and instead lets her forehead shadow over his as he chuckles. But he feels it, feels what’s channeling from her mind, heart, soul, and it’s enough to bring him much more tranquil.
The bleeding from his chest does not stop, but at this point he doesn’t care anymore. Instead, he removes his hand from the spot and loosely curls around the hand that has not left its spot from his cheek. Fingers tenderly knead the flesh of her wrist while the other still cups her face, thumb stroking the apple of her cheek. Eyes taking her in, the sensations she now only faintly ignites within him, and he groans lowly at how those blazing, loving emotions clash with the shock that is coming together. The reality, the acceptance of not being the one to guide the People, of not giving her the future she truly deserves, the acceptance of it all.
She doesn’t want to accept it however. Not now, not yet. So all she can do is nod, swallowing through the lump within her throat and let’s herself softly touch him; the fading specks across his nose, the beautiful markings of his forehead, the sharpness of his cheeks, the quiver of his lip as he inhales curtly, eyes closing for a solid moment. It is ridiculously unbearable now, pain pulsating in sharp waves through his body.
“Hurts?” She tries evading her gaze from the red spiraling down his blue skin, from his severed kuru. He shakes his head and lets his hold press a bit more against her. “No more…fine. I’m fine.” he gently coaxes his lie with a subtle twitch of his mouth, wanting to reprieve her from feeling any more anguish for him.
“That — that is good.” she returns his expression, professing her own belief in his words to spare him his strength in trying to console her. But how he slightly hears it in the way her breathing becomes frantic when his own starts to falter. The extent of his wounds are as he said; too great and severe for Tsahik to cure, and the heart's wrenching notion that he’s near his end slowly starts to seep past her obstinacy.
Faint cries of what seemed to be cheers chime through the sky, and he can’t resist the sigh of relief that emerges. “That is a good sign. Very good.”
She nods but doesn’t tear her attention from him. She watches how his bright orbs shift beneath his shut eyelids. When they come to view again, there is slight agitation. More ache accompanied by sorrow, all of it spreading from the core of his being. “Yawnetu.”
Her tail lashes in fret. “I am here, Tsu’tey — what is wrong?”
“C-call to them…it is almost time.” His words stammer violently, grasping much more onto her when he gasps. Her coils furiously shake across her shoulders, nose scrunching, lower lip trembling when she sobs. “not yet…n-no not yet. I cannot lose you! P-please—”
“My stubborn girl,” he grunts quietly when his red stained mouth manage to smile. “You will never lose me. I…I am more than certain we will see one another again. But now the People, Toruk Makto must know he is to lead them. And I need you to help me let him know.”
She desperately nestles her cheek against his hand for a moment, sniffles and nods before craning her neck forward and placing a light kiss over his forehead. “W-whatever you wish, tiyawn.”
She does what she is told while he listens, the voice of Jakesully being heard, wasting no second in confirming he is on his way with the others.
Feathered kisses are met with his temple now and across his forehead, his eyelids, his nose, his cheeks — but lastly his lips. Not caring for the blood tainting them, only for the sensation they soothe her soul with, she gives him one last broken kiss.
She focuses entirely on Tsu’tey, respite emerging deep from within his lungs while desperately trying to give him one of her breaths as if it’ll spare him, tender fingertips grasping his face in an anguish manner as he too tries meeting her halfway.
The hand on her cheek goes back to her shoulder, gently pulling her closer. Her thumbs brush down his cheeks, outlining the structure of his jawline. “I feel you. I see you, oeru Tsu’tey.”
The tip of his nose nudges her when his forehead finds its place over his her. “I feel you. I…I see you, oeru Y/N.”
Those are the words he finds himself mouthing to her one last time, the only pair of brilliant, loving tearful eyes that he sees, the last swarm of peace that wavers with Toruk Makto’s shadow as it envelops his dying body.
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psychologynerd · 12 days
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Is it true that Sarah can write whatever she wants? Yes. It’s true that Sarah can decide to forego everything she has written in multiple books; drastically changing her mind and the trajectory of the books she has set-up for years. All of that is true.
But is it realistic? Is it likely?
A side of this fandom believes so. They believe that all of the set-up Sarah laid out for 4 books in the series was dismissed and dismantled by half of a bonus chapter. A bonus chapter that was a limited edition release for sales. That was never reprinted. A bonus chapter that if you don’t go looking for information online you’d never know exists. A bonus chapter that was only released in English. A bonus chapter the majority of this fandom has never accessed.
The other side does not believe a bonus chapter indicates such or would so drastically dismantle all of the foreshadowing set-up over 4 books.
What I, and most Elriels I know, see is this:
1. We see Elain and Azriel take comfort in one another at the initial family dinner in the human lands. The 3x3 was there sharing a meal. Azriel was humored by Elain arming herself with a fork. Elain was comforted by Azriel. Elain was even wearing a cobalt dress.
2. We have Feyre musing about Elain liking Velaris and clinging to Az for peace and quiet. What a handsome pair they would be. Mor drawing 3 winged men and 3 women with golden hair.
3. We have Az carrying Elain down from the house of wind. Elain calling his hands/siphons beautiful- earning a blush from Az. Offering his arm, “graceful as any courtier,” walking her to the garden.
4. Azriel and Cassian going a bit stiff at the sight of Elain and Nesta. Azriel offering his hand to take Elain out to the garden.
5. Feyre musing: “why not make them mates?” “What if that’s what she needs?” And an entire conversation on mating bonds fueled by, what Feyre perceives, an obvious compatibility and comfort between Elain and Azriel.
6. “A seer. The cauldron made you seer.” After being told if anybody could determine what’s amiss it would be a mate.
7. “I’m getting her back.” Elain “devouring the sight” of him. “You came for me.” Azriel’s eyes glowing. Rage rippling off his form at the thought of Elain being hurt. This was no ordinary rescue. It occurred on page. Elain worked with him. He cradled her to his chest despite his wounds. He refused to let her go. She kissed him on the cheek. Explicitly romantic rescue.
8. “This is truth teller.” We have an entire alchemical marriage of light and dark. Spring and death. We have Elain step out of a shadow with truth teller and save Nessian (and all of Prythian). A knife Rhys tells Feyre that Azriel has never allowed anybody else to so much as touch.
9. Potato steam from a dish Elain is carrying being likened to Azriel’s shadows.
10. Azriel bulldozing by Feyre (essentially) to wish Elain a Happy Solstice.
11. “Sit, I’ll take care of it.” “Wait until everyone is seated to eat.”
12. Headache powder. A sweet and considerate gift. Azriel’s eyes light up. His laugh a sound more joyous than any Feyre has ever heard.
13. Rosehall. Azriel is associated with a Rosehall.
14. Staying up into the early morning hours together to discuss gardening plans. When Az barely makes time for anything outside of work and training. When Feyre doubts he is interested.
15. Shy glances. Azriel’s shadow snakes ready to strike when Nesta insults Elain. “What happened to Elain?” And cassian marking Azriel’s obvious distress. “Are you alright?”
16. Cassian realizing Az is over Mor. Few longing glances.
17. Elain being trained in stealth by Azriel or the wraith spies? Elain might have Az beat in secret-keeping?
18. A charged glance. His secret to tell (confirmed Elain).
19. Elain loses her newfound boldness around Lucien. Lucien can’t stand to be around Elain for more than a few minutes. Elain is relieved when he isn’t around.
20. Elain has been paired in her trio friendship with the wraith spies Azriel, himself, trained. Feyre (the rulers) has Amren and Mor. Nesta (the warriors) has G and Emerie. Elain (the spies) has Nuala and Cerridwen.
Elain and Azriel have been aligned in so many ways.
Now, regardless of how you interpret alllllll of that (and I’m probably missing things),
This is what 100% of readers have read. Guaranteed if they read the books, they read all of these scenes. They expect something to come of all of that. That all has to go somewhere. You know what is not guaranteed they read? A limited release bonus chapter.
This is why, despite the explicit confirmation of romantic interest in the Azriel pov bonus between Elriel, we think if what happened in the second half of the bonus was so pivotal, it would have been included for 100% of readers to access.
What bonus chapter of Sarah’s (or any author) that was not an epilogue, included in every book, vastly changed the trajectory of a series?
This is why when people say it’s “only lust” between Elriel, we cannot fathom this perspective. After all of those scenes??? Really?
This is why when Sarah said we should know by the end of ACOSF, we say “The sisters standing together ended the series. Spring was blooming through Velaris. The rose carving half-hidden by shadow on the mantle. Azriel and Elain both leaving us with Nyx in their arms. The next book is Elain and Azriel.”
When Sarah said it was obvious, we all say- indeed, look at all of this. Look at the other bonus as well, which was originally a chapter in the book, that says “let’s focus on one sister at a time.”
It becomes extremely mind-boggling that Elriels are told a bonus chapter supersedes all of that canon. That we’re delusional.
I don’t get it.
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victoria-daydreams · 9 months
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Compliments to the Chef
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AN: It's here people! I floated the idea and you all demanded it be written. Don't care if there's any inaccuracies about fine dining culture or rules, we're all here for Chef Luca. If you commented on my original post I went ahead and tagged you. I wrote this on my phone because I'm on vacation so excuse any typos or errors.
Taglist: @chiddybangchiddy @emjayewrites @ay0nha @adorabubblesblog @ayoarticulate @blowmymbackout
Word Count: 4.4k
Prompt: Thinking thoughts about writing a fic with Chef Luca from The Bear involving an black!oc/black!reader on a study abroad trip in Copenhagen and them falling for each other.
"How do you even function in this weather?"
The coldness of December in Copenhagen could be quite unbearable at times. In her thick peacoat, Dannie shivered as snow gently fell to the ground in large, fluffy clusters. The tingle of cold air on her golden brown skin felt as if someone was jabbing needles all over her body. It was an unfathomably cold evening and Dannie began to wonder if this outing was worth it.
Aya, a native to the country, only laughed and tugged at the thick knitted scarf around her neck. "You want my scarf?" she questioned, smirking at the American.
Glancing at her friend, red-cheeked from the cold, with snow falling in her dark, springy curls, Dannie shook her head.
"Don't think that will change me freezing my ass off," Dannie retorted, wrapping her arms around herself, trying to maintain some warmth.
Aya laughed again in response, "Come on, we're almost there," she said, linking her arm with Dannie.
Dannie's teeth clattered as the cold wind continued to permeate her coat and her wool sweater. Stiffly, she walked with Aya, her shoes crunching loudly against the snowy cobblestones underfoot. Despite the frigid temperature and the feeling of being frozen to the bone, it was beautiful day in the capital of Denmark. As far as the eye could see, picturesque buildings lined the streets in colorful rows. The vibrant colors of the architecture reminded Dannie of cakes and other tasty pastries. The two women passed by cafes which littered the narrow streets of the snowy city, filled with tourists and locals of all ethnicities and nationalities.
Finally, they arrived at the restaurant, its name written in Danish. Savory scents and muted conversations greeted Dannie as Aya spoke with the host about her reservation. Without a doubt, this was the most expensive restaurant she'd ever been to in her life just based off the interior. After taking their coats, the host showed Aya and Dannie to their table, which offered a splendid view of Copenhagen. A glass of water was poured for her followed by a menu being placed into her hands. Browsing the menu, Dannie's eyes nearly bulged at the prices of dessert alone.
"Aya, why does a desert cost damn near an arm and a leg?" Dannie asked, her brows raising in disbelief.
"Because it’s 'fine dining'," Aya explained simply. "Don't stress about prices tonight," she reassured, with a dismissive hand wave. "It's your birthday, I'm treating you remember?" she reminded.
"Aya, I love you, but I'm helping you pay for this," Dannie stated firmly, placing her hand over her heart. "I refuse to let you break your bank account over a tiny portion of food and dessert," she added jokingly.
"Aya?" a British voice called.
Dannie's eyes flitted over Aya's shoulder to see man dressed in a fitted navy blue shirt and black slacks with a black apron tied around his neck. Aya turned in her chair, her face lighting in recognition.
"Luka! Hej!" she exclaimed, waving him over.
Approaching their table, Dannie realized that this Luca was nothing short of a heartthrob. Strikingly warm blue eyes, tousled blond hair, and not to mention his wide and undeniably strong frame.
"It is so good to see you here again!" Luca said, smiling at her.
Playfully she rolled her eyes, "You don’t know how long I remained on the waiting list to eat here again," she quipped, standing up to give him a quick hug.
"I see you brought a friend this time," he noted, as Aya pulled away from him.
"Yes! This is Dannie, she's studying abroad here and today is her 26th birthday, so we're celebrating!" Aya introduced excitedly. "Dannie, this is Luca, my chef friend I've been telling you so much about!" she said, gesturing towards him.
Dannie gave him a shy smile and offered her hand to shake as Aya sat down.
"A pleasure to meet you Luca, I’ve heard so much about you," Dannie said, her voice laced with the warm southern twang she was born with.
"First, a happy birthday is in order, I cannot think of a better place to attend for such a special occasion," he responded, mirroring her smile. "And hopefully Aya here has only been saying good things," he joked, glancing at her before reaching for Dannie's hand.
The moment their hands brushed against each other, Dannie felt Luca slightly jump at the sensation.
"Good god, your hands are freezing," Luca commented, letting out a chuckle and moving his right hand to the other side of hers. "You need a warm drink in you," he said, in that thick accent of his sending a shiver down her spine.
"Well, I wouldn’t mind a hot chocolate, if a fine dining establishment like this can manage it?" Dannie suggested, enjoying the heat from his hands engulfing her own.
Luca's mouth curled upward and nodded, "Yeah, I think I can manage that just fine," he assured, rubbing small circles against her skin. "I'm sure the kitchen has everything I need for this special request," he informed. "Anything for you—as friend of Aya's," he added quickly.
If Dannie’s was not mistaken, there was a hint of red he saw on the man's lightly freckled cheeks.
"I will be sure to get that out you, Dannie," he promised.
"Thank you Chef Luca,"
Reluctantly, Dannie pulled her hand from his grasp. Silence lingered between them for a moment and blue eyes stared unblinking into dark brown eyes. His intense eyes sent another pleasurable shiver down Dannie’s spine. That look…God, it made the temperature in the room increase by at least five degrees. Aya sharply cleared her throat, snapping them from their heated gaze.
"Right," Luca began, clearing his throat himself. "One hot chocolate coming right up for the birthday girl," he said, with a grin before leaving for the kitchen.
Dannie watched his form retreat. Luca went to rub the back of his neck, clearly feeling sheepish. Three quick snaps drew Dannie’s attention back in front of her to Aya grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
"Girllll," Aya sung, her eyebrows raised high. "What was that?" she asked, leaning her body forward. "Did I just inadvertently play matchmaker? Is this love at the first sight?" she questioned.
"Listen, it may not be love at first sight, but…” Dannie answered, taking both of Aya's hand. "The spirit of Tamera has fully possessed my body!" she joked, causing both of them to quietly squeal together and lightly stomp their feet on the floor.
~~~x~~~
An hour later
"This has been one of the best meals I have ever tasted in my entire life," Dannie stated, dabbing the corners of her mouth with a napkin.
Aya hummed in agreement, "Including the specially made hot chocolate?" she asked teasingly, wriggling her eyebrows.
"Yes, the hot chocolate too," Dannie agreed with exasperation, rolling her eyes and laughing.
"Maybe we should send our compliments to the chef, personally," Aya suggested, a mischievous expression on her face.
"No!" Dannie whispered, her face growing hot at the mere thought of Luca coming back to the table.
"Why the fuck not?" she whispered back. "You two were practically eye fucking each other in front of me earlier," she pointed out.
"Okay, but—"
"Excuse me," Aya called, cutting Dannie off and a maître d' promptly was at their table. "The dessert was absolutely phenomenal. My friend here would like to personally send her compliments to the chef who made it," she explained, a barely hidden smirk on her lips.
"Of course, ma'am,"
Feeling utterly mortified, Dannie had taken to hiding her face behind her hand.
"Why would you do that?" Dannie asked, her hand sliding down to cover half her mouth.
"Come on, you’ll thank me later," Aya dismissed, picking up her wine glass. "You and Luca would be such a hot couple together," she said, before sipping her dry red.
"Really?" Dannie asked skeptically.
"Yes bitch!" Aya responded, almost in disbelief she had to answer that.
Dannie grabbed her own wine glass and raised it to her lips, thinking of Luca. His warm demeanor was definitely an attractive trait, as well as his prowess in baking such delicious treats. Any woman with a pulse will find that trait irresistible in a man.
"I was told I've been summoned,"
The sound of a British accent instantly snapped from Dannie from her musings and straighten up her posture. Looking up, Luca was at their table and smiling at the two of them, his hands folded behind his back.
"Yes, hello Chef Luca!" Aya greeted, with a knowing grin. "The dessert was to die for!" she complimented. "Dannie and I just had to tell you in person. Right Dannie?" she asked, nodding encouragingly.
"Everything was superb, Chef Luca," Dannie agreed, "Thank you,"
"You're very welcome and thank you. I'm so glad you enjoyed it," he said.
"Before you go Luca, could you tell the maître d we're ready for the check?" Aya said.
"Ah, yes the check," he replied. "I already have it here," he informed, unfolding his arms and giving the little black book to Dannie.
Opening the book, let out a small gasp of surprise. The receipt showed a balance of zero.
"Are you kidding me?" Dannie asked, glancing back up at him.
"The chef heard it's your first time in Copenhagen, wanted to make this an unforgettable experience," Luca explained.
"Job well done, I'll say," Dannie retorted, chuckling a little. "I fear wherever I go next in Copenhagen nothing will hold a candle to this,"
"Well, I know my way around the city pretty well," Luca began. "I can show you some spots that will blow you away, if you’ll let me," he offered, smiling shyly.
Dannie nodded vigorously with a smile, "That would be amazing, Luca. Thank you," she said, mindlessly playing with her ginger dyed hair.
Luca’a face seemed to brighten and a faint blush starting to cross his cheeks, "Saturday?" he questioned.
Dannie took the pen from the checkbook and wrote her phone number on the receipt.
"Saturday,"
~~~x~~~
Saturday
Dannie loved farmers markets. There was always just a magical feel when she visited one. Now, compound that with the fact that she was in a different country during Christmastime and she might as well been in Winter Wonderland. Above, the sun shone uninhibited in a perfect, cloudless blue sky. With a gentle breeze, snow from the ground and buildings swirled past Dannie as tiny crystals. She could not envision a more perfect day for a first date.
"I think you're a mind reader Luca," Dannie said, stealing a glance at him. "I absolutely adore farmers markets," she informed, with a smile.
"I promised I'd show you the best spots in the city, didn't I?" he reminded, their arms brushing against each other as they walked side by side.
She nodded, "You did," she agreed. "Keeping promises, a good quality to possess. I like that in a man," she stated, their arms brushing again.
Luca smirked, "Noted," he said, smoothly lacing his fingers with hers.
Dannie’s heart fluttered, her chest blossoming with warmth. She could've just melted right into a puddle at that very moment. They made their way deeper into the busy market, walking through the narrow lane as the mouthwatering aroma of roasted chestnuts and mulled wine was soon thick in the air.
Along a few connecting streets, each road was dedicated to different vendors. One street was filled with paintings and handmade jewelry. Another street had fresh produce and jams. While a different different part of the market was selling hot food based on scent alone from how strong it was.
"You know," Luca began. "Aya said you were studying abroad, but you never said what for," he said.
She chuckled, "You're right, we knew you were needed in the kitchen, so our conversation was pretty limited," Dannie recalled, with a nod. "History, that’s what's I’m here. I’m a history major,"
"Ooh, not my best subject," he mentioned, laughing lightly. "History class use to always put me to sleep," he joked.
"Why does everyone say that!" Dannie exclaimed lightly, laughing a little. "You mean to tell me there was never a time period you learned about and just became obsessed with it?" she asked,
"I became obsessed with baking at a young age," he answered. "You, on the other hand, are a true history buff. I can tell just by how excited you’re getting," he stated. "So, tell me, what are your favorite periods to study?" he asked.
"It’s World War I followed by the Roaring 20s, then World War II, lastly the 50s and 60s," Dannie listed, using her free hand to count them off. "I dabble in The Gilded Age as well," she added, shrugging her shoulders. "I don't know something within me just gravitated to those periods the moment I learned about them in school. I think it’s mainly the aesthetics, fashion, and music," she explained, smiling softly. "To be clear though, I would never want to live through those eras. The world is hostile enough to Black people as it is. I can hardly imagine what it was like back then," she finished, raising a finger.
When Luca didn't reply after a beat, Dannie began to internally panic thinking she said something wrong.
"Oh no, did I kill the vibe?" Dannie asked, with a horrified expression. "I swear every time I speak about my love of history it always somehow results in vibe killing,"
"No, no," Luca reassured. "I'm just admiring how cute you are nerding out over history, I do the same when it comes to cooking," he explained, with a grin.
"Well, join me in my cuteness and tell me what made you nerd out over cooking," Dannie said, playfully bumping his shoulder.
"I fear the amount of time that would take would consume our whole date," Luca joked.
"And I want to hear every second of it," Dannie said. "I'm dying to know how the man next to me became the esteemed Chef Luca,"
"Alright, you asked for it," he said, letting out a chuckle.
Listening with her full attention, Dannie learned from Luca how at a very young age he’s always had a passion for cooking and because of that he was able to hone in on his skills. Of course, this led to Luca thinking he was ‘the shit’ by the time he got to culinary school, carrying a major chip on his shoulder. That chip stayed him as he progressed into his career until he was unintentionally humbled by another chef after witnessing their skills in the kitchen. Without working with this chef, Luca swears he would not be where he is now had it not been from him.
"So, a slice of humble pie did the trick, huh?" Dannie concluded, her tone teasing.
"Yeah, yeah it did," Luca admitted, laughing and nodding his head. "You can either choose to accept it or deny it. Luckily, I accepted it and changed the course of my career," he went on.
They crossed into the main of the market, stumbling upon the Christmas market . The massive space was filled with all sorts of food vendors, stalls, vendor kiosks, and there was even a petting zoo with a variety of farm animals. At the center of it all, a gigantic Christmas tree stood, towering above everything in the square. The freshly cut pine tree was covered in lights, garland, and ornate ornaments.
"This will always be my favorite time of the year," Dannie sighed wistfully, admiring the lights and decorations around them.
"I remember spending my first Christmas here in Copenhagen," Luca mentioned. "It felt like I was in a movie," he added.
"If it snows on Christmas Day, that would just put the icing on top of the cake,"
He turned to look at her, "You know what, an idea just popped into my head,"
"What?"
"Has anyone ever made you dessert from scratch?"
"Yeah, some family members of mine, but never like a romantic partner or anything like that," she answered, and the realization dawned on her. "Wait—are you offering to do that for me?"
"I am," he nodded. "You mentioned cake and the gears in my mind started turning," hestated. "Plus, all the ingredients I would need are all around me,"
"Making a girl feel special, that must be your superpower Luca," Dannie joked.
“Not just any girl. I like to make you, feel special Dannie,” he corrected, squeezing her hand.
She giggled, "If you’re making dessert from scratch, chances are I won’t be able to enjoy the fruits of your labor tonight,"
"Guess you'll have to come back to my place again tomorrow then," Luca suggested, smirking slightly. "Come on," he said, leading her the nearest stall.
For the next thirty minutes, Dannie and Luca shopped at the farmers market, grabbing everything necessary for the surprise dessert Luca was going to make. Instead of the usual 'divide and conquer' tactic, they remained together, tackling neighboring stalls at the same time. After two laps around the market, Dannie and Luca were at there final stalls. Luca was at a strawberry vendor a few stalls down, while Dannie waited at a honey seller’s. Shifting the weight between her feet, Dannie could feel her feet start to grow tired from walking. Another minute passed before the older woman handed her the jar of honey with a smile.
"Is there anything else you and your boyfriend are interested in purchasing?" the older woman questioned, still wearing a kind smile.
Boyfriend. The term nearly makes her choke on her water she was drinking.
"Oh no, we’re not—" Dannie began, but stopped herself. "Thank you for the honey, ma'am," she finished, nodding her head and placing it in her canvas tote bag.
Not soon after, Luca appeared next to her carrying his own bag of groceries. Automatically, his hand came to rest on her lower back.
"Do we everything we need?" he asked.
"I believe so," Dannie replied, with a nod. "Can't wait for you to wow me again in a more intimate setting this time,"
"I aim to please, love,"
"A fucking pet name? Pick me up from the goddamn floor!" Dannie thought.
Grinning, she linked her arm with his, "Next time, instead you baking for me, I want to be apart of the baking process," Dannie informed.
"You’re already planning for a next time?" he questioned, arching his brow.
"Of course, do you know how rare it is to find a man who has a passion for baking?" she quipped, raising an eyebrow of her own.
"Back to my place?"
"Lead the way," Dannie encouraged, and Luca guided her out the farmers market
~~~x~~~
"I cannot wait to eat this cheesecake," Dannie said, leaning back on the counter and crossing her arms. "Too bad I have to wait until tomorrow to get a slice," she pouted playfully.
"We can have a slice of it over afternoon tea," Luca suggested, carefully placing the cheesecake into the refrigerator.
Dannie rolled her eyes, "Ugh, god you’re so disgustingly British," she teased.
He closed the door to the fridge, "Hey, don’t knock it until you try it," he retorted, pointing the tip of the wine bottle at her that he grabbed.
"I'll have you know, my drink of choice is a strong coffee," Dannie informed, lightly digging her index finger into his pec. It took everything in her to keep a straight face feeling the firmness of the muscle. "Not black coffee though, I'm not a serial killer," she clarified, laughing lightly which he shared. "But because you're so cute, I'm willing to try it for you," Dannie conceded, booping the tip of his nose.
"You'll thank me for expanding your palette," he quipped, causing her to roll her eyes again. "If you would be so kind to get the glasses, love,"
"Since you asked so nicely," Dannie said, moving over to the overhead cupboard.
Grabbing two wine glass, she turned back around just in time to get a perfect view of Luca's back. His shirt was just tight enough that she could watch the flex of Luca's muscles in his biceps and shoulders underneath the fabric.
"So goddamn strong," Dannie thought. "I wonder what it would feel like to have that grip around my hips or my ne—"
The cork escaped the bottle's hold with an echoing pop, snapping Dannie from her impure thoughts.
"You okay back there?" Luca asked.
She cleared her throat, "Yeah, totally," she answered, finally walking back over. "I didn't want to startle you as you opened the wine," she explained, placing the glasses down.
Filling both glasses, Luca handed her a glass first and then picked up his own.
"Cheers," Luca said, tilting his glass.
"Cheers," Dannie echoed, clinking their glasses together and sipping their wine in unison.
Lowering his glass, Luca’s gaze fell back on Dannie.
"After our afternoon tea and cheesecake, how would you feel going to the National Gallery of Denmark with me?" she wondered, swirling her wine around in one hand while the other reached for a blueberry left over in a bowl.
"I would love that,"
"It’s a date then," Dannie smiled, dipping the berry into the bowl of whipped cream and popping it into her mouth.
Pure bliss swept over her face at the sweet and tangy flavor flooding her taste buds.
"Fuck that was so good," Dannie laughed, shaking her head when Luca leaned in towards her. She swallowed. "Luca?" she asked, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe.
"Sorry, you…you got a little something…" he trailed off. "Right," he continued softly, reaching out with his thumb and gently wiping leftover whipped cream from the corner of her mouth. His thumb drew across her bottom lip. "There," he finished, dragging her lips apart slightly.
Dannie couldn't move from her spot, and from the looks neither could Luca.
"Silly me, I’m such a slob," she said, the words coming out in one soft breath.
He removed his thumb from her lips, "No, you’re fine," Luca responded, before bringing his glass back to his mouth and quickly downing the rest of his drink. Clearing his throat, he placed the cup back down on the counter. "It might not be the cheesecake, but might I offer you the best strawberry you'll ever eat?" he asked, regaining his usual warm demeanor.
Dannie smirked, throwing back the rest of her wine as well, "You may, since you forbade me from eating any earlier," she reminded, putting her glass down.
Luca grinned, plucking a freshly washed strawberry from the bowl and gently pressed it against Dannie's lips. The move caused a giggle to bubble within her chest and her face to flush with heat. Opening her mouth, Dannie bit down into the perfectly proportioned fruit in Luca's fingers which moved a little. The sweet juices filled her mouth, a drop of it escaping from a corner of her lips.
"How was that?" he asked, a cheeky smile on his face.
"Mmm," Dannie hummed in satisfaction, closing her eyes and nodding. She waited a moment after swallowing her first bite, still relishing the nectar of the fruit, before speaking. "Certainly the juiciest strawberry I've ever eaten," she responded, wiping the corners of her mouth with the back of her finger. "You flinched slightly when I bit into it," she pointed out, making Luca chuckle.
"I was hoping you wouldn’t notice,"
"Don't worry, I don’t bite..." Dannie promised, her voice dropping a pitch. Instantly, Luca's cheeks flared red at her words. "Unless, you want me to," she teased, and leaned forward to bite into the remaining strawberry.
"Fuck me..." Luca breathed.
Smiling coyly, Dannie turned her back to Luca and started to walk over to the living room. Suddenly, a pair of warm, strong hands gripped her waist and spun her back around. Luca's face was expressionless, but his pupils had darkened considerably and flickered over her face. Dannie met his stare through hooded eyes, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. The tension between them was palpable and it hung thick, making the soft and shallow breaths from both of them more pronounced. Luca ran his hand across her lower back before pulling her closer, dipping his head towards her.
The little space remaining between the two sent Dannie's heartbeat into overdrive. Their faces were barely an inch from each other. Her eyes dropped to his lips, slowly making their way back up her his by way of his jawline. It was as if a dam broke. Within a blink of the eye, Luca pressed his mouth against Dannie's. Inhaling sharply, any and all thoughts flew from her head at the feeling of his lips. Dannie softly moaned into the kiss, her eyes closing while her fingers found their way to grip on Luca's blond locks. Eagerly, she returned the kiss as he walked her back until her lower back was pressed into the edge of the granite countertop.
"God, you're so beautiful," he huffed out before leaning back down to kiss her roughly.
Luca's palms slipped beneath Dannie's sweater to glide across her warm skin, his lips nipping hungrily at her lower lip. Only heavy breathing and the smacking of lips filled the air of the kitchen. With practiced ease, Luca wedged his leg between her own while his left hand skirted around her midsection until it he hooked her leg around his hip. Dannie's hands gently made their way to unbutton Luca's shirt, finally being able to fully appreciate the taut muscles underneath her fingers.
Another moan fell from Dannie, this one breathier than before. His body responded, grounding himself into her. Moving his mouth to the corner of hers, Luca's lips trailed down her neck, peppering open mouthed kisses down her jaw and neck. Dannie could only pant his name in quick, short gasps.
"Luca…Luca…." she breathed, her head thrown back.
Slowly, he drew back from her, forcing Dannie to open her eyes and lift her head up. Staring into his smoldering eyes, Dannie was mesmerized by the flush that stained Luca’s cheeks and neck, not to mention his swollen lips. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers, both their breathing labored.She felt herself chasing his lips as he withdrew. Luca wrapped his arms around her thighs and effortlessly lifted her onto the cool countertop.
"You're too good at this," Dannie commented breathlessly, before capturing his lips in another slow, languid kiss. "I bet there has been many girls in this same position," she suggested, kissing him again while her hands busied themselves with undoing his belt.
"Not on the island darling," he whispered, running his tongue along the slope of where her neck curved into her shoulder, making her shudder uncontrollably.
"No one has had the pleasure of christening this?" Dannie questioned, slowly dragging her legs up to wrap around his waist.
"Until now, no," Luca answered, his face retreating from her neck. "Would you like to do the honors?" he asked, smirking at her.
Her legs tightened around his hips, "Yes Chef,"
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grapejuicestyless · 6 months
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can you do a conrad fic based on sad, beautiful, tragic by t.s.?
Sad, Beautiful, Tragic.
Conrad Fisher x fem!reader
Summery: Y/n is young, naive but not stupid. Conrad had made one too many empty promises for even her to continue believing.
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My feet stood cemented on the pavement, stuck to the grounds that lingered in deadly details of him, but never us. Not now, not ever.
I felt like an idiot, showing up now, so late. A random autumn night in Boston. The streets in the city still bustling with life, longing for the scents of pumpkin spice and apple cider. The further into the suburbs you drove, the quieter it grew. The trees became plentiful, black streets becoming canvases of orange and yellow.
We weren’t right. It was obvious. Laurel reprimanded me for this, my great attempts to salvage what little we had left between us. A dwindling flame, a broken glass spilling wine across a pearl white table cloth. She called me a fool, too blinded by what I wanted to work so badly in my head that I refused what was being presented right in front of me.
His snide remarks with his school friends, all much smarter than I. They knew it. I was never a prodigy, a prospect, gifted. Each dig was minor, easily brushed away like dust on the pages of a forgotten story page. But Conrad always had a way with his words, a tongue that made even the kindest comments come out like daggers. Backhanded and cruel, aimed at the naive.
Gullible was never written on the ceiling yet each time he smiled and pointed I looked. I was a scarlet thread, wrapped tightly around his thumb.
When the door opened, Susannah greeted me with a sad smile. Her eyes spoke a thousand sentences, pleading for me to leave, walk away while I still could. But Conrad had promised, promised that if I just gave him one more chance it would be different.
And I believed him. I believed him because when I met him, he was a good man. Shy, sweet, observant. He was charming, and god he was always handsome. The Conrad I fell for never lied to me. If we disagreed, it was quickly resolved.
Now it seemed like each phone call was just another nail in the coffin. Another reason flying by, red flags blowing in the wind begging me to follow, to leave. It was walking on eggshells, fragile. I was clumsy and they broke. I sit alone in my room sometimes, phone beeping to its death, hanging off my shoulder and I forget. I forget all the reasons I am fighting, what I am fighting for.
But then he comes back, just like he always does. A vicious cycle. He throws daggers at my deepest hurts, freshest wounds to have the pleasure to watch me crumble within his grasp. And when I’m too weak to stand, he lifts me back up. Suddenly, my stomach aches, I want to throw up. It’s bubbling up my throat, the guilt is eating at me until I am nothing. How could I ever even forget how wonderful this man is to me, how could I ever want to leave? I wipe my memory of all the nights I spend crying on the floor. We never speak of it, what we’re doing, but the guilty look in his eyes tells me he knows. We both do. I sleep on the floor for another week, I can’t move. I am paralyzed by my heavy heart, a locket around my neck. It’s golden, decorated in whimsical swirls. A picture of Conrad stays with me always, I clench in my fist. I want to rip it off, watch the chain scatter. It weighs me down, I can barely breathe.
I am a good girl, I don’t fight. I stay quiet while Conrad fights himself. I don’t buy into his attempts to work me up anymore. I know that with him, with us, we are destined to see storms. I know better now that once they pass, the sky will clear and the tragedy of it all will fade away. So I wait. I always wait for that moment of clarity. I refuse to think when I’m so worked up.
It’s sad, and it’s beautiful and oh so tragic, the way we dance around each other. How hours ago I was standing outside his door, regretting my naivety, trying to salvage us. Now I sit in his living room, waiting for him with my legs crossed. The melodic ticking of the clock alerts me of the time. I’m cold, my nose is rosy. I let the house capture me in its warm blanket. A sacred place of safety, I smell Susannah, I smell my mother. I see Belly’s old pictures on the wall in frames and Stevens gifts to Jeremiah and Conrad.
“Y/n/n, hey.” His voice is airy, lips pressed to my temple. I didn’t even hear him coming in the deafening ringing of silence in my ears. My eyes shift to his face, but I cannot move.
“Hi Con.” My voice is coarse, tired. It’s so late, my eyes hurt from being open so long. His arms wrap around me as the couch dips beside my thighs. He’s so warm, so gentle now, I find myself drifting away again. Getting lost in the calm, I forget about how devastating the storm was. I haven’t even picked up all my discarded pieces yet. Somehow, I manage to keep giving away more and more, even now. I am not sure how I can afford this.
Our conversation is warm, long. He talks about school and I talk about mine. With us being alone, I miss any snide comments or judgmental stares. He is so much kinder without the influence of others. He is almost the same man I grew up loving.
“You’ll still visit me, won’t you?” He pleads innocently. The look in his eyes is genuine, I almost crumble. A sharp intake of air is stuck in my throat, my brain becomes re-wired.
I remember the sad looks from Susannah, the fights with my mother. I remember how disappointed Belly was when I left again. How Steven yelled and fought until I was gone. Everyone in my life sees it in a bad light and I still managed to miss it.
Suddenly the golden chain around my neck feels heavy again. It hurts my skin, it’s burning the back of my neck. I hold it in my hand, it’s still heavy in my palm.
“Y/n?” His hand is on my thigh, I can’t breathe. My chest heaves, my throat is burning. There’s a lump stuck in my throat. It’s expanding and my eyes hurt. I’m tired, I’m sick, I’m sad.
Standing up, his hands drop from my lap. I close my eyes so I don’t have to look at him anymore. I can feel my lip quivering while I suck in a harsh breath. My eyebrows are furrowed, fists clenched.
“Y/n, hey, baby…” He cooed at me, palm pressing to my cheek. I am inconsolable, irrevocably damaged. Too lost in our beauty to remember the tragedy, the sadness that defines us. That is us.
“Conrad, I’m leaving.” It comes out sticky. Quiet other than my sniffles and his breathing.
“You just got here, did…have I done something?” I feel his hands slip down to my elbows. He holds me in place son the carpet. It hurts, not because he’s holding too tight, but because his touch burns.
“No, Conrad.” My eyes open, I search his blue ones. I get lost in our deep they are, collecting my thoughts. I feel trapped.
“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t. If I stay any longer I’m afraid I won’t ever leave.” His face is blank until it isn’t. It’s shifting, contorting into something that looks incredibly confused, pained.
“What, what are you saying?” His voice is less calm now, raising. Not quiet reaching the level of desperation I can see building inside of him already.
“It’s a cycle, Con, can’t you see it? We’re toxic and it’s sick because we are the ones letting it be this way. We fight but we never talk. You promise me you’ll get better but you never do! I’m tired of trying to be alright when I’m around you! You don’t make me feel good.” It’s off my chest, yet he hasn’t comprehended any of it.
“Y/n, please. We can work through it, right? I love you, I do. Please just, please. I love you, you have to love me. It doesn’t just go away like that, I love you.” He’s crying now. His blue eyes clouded in a dark overcast. He makes me feel guilty. All self respect I have is gone, and suddenly I’m back in his arms.
My head finds its place on his shoulder, I tuck my face into his neck. Not to be close, but because I feel to ashamed to show it after falling so quickly under his mind games.
Silently, I agree with him. Of course I still love him, I always will. So I stay, a fool who got so close, but remained so far away. He presses another kiss to the side of my head and tells me I won’t regret it. When I wake up alone in his bed, cold the next morning, I know I’ve been blinded to another empty promise. It’s so hard to stay when he’s mean, but it’s even harder when he’s sweet. So I pack my things quietly and leave. I won’t visit him at school. Not until he comes home will we see each other again.
Oddly enough, the thought doesn’t drain me. I don’t dread never seeing him for weeks on end. I don’t regret not choosing somewhere closer to get an education simply to be near him. I am relieved he will be gone. My heart keeps beating.
It’s barely a month before I’m stood back in front of him. Only now the carpet is cold cement and his living room is the train tracks. He is in Boston, he’ll never leave. He tries his hardest to get me to stay. He’s the nicest I’ve ever seen him. He’s persuasive, but in our time apart he doesn’t know I see it less as a genuine feeling from him and more as a twisted tactic of manipulation.
“We can settle down, we’re almost out of college. Just me and you and it’ll be great. If you’d only give us another chance.” He pleads, hands not yet on my skin, but he’s so close. I can feel his warm breath on my skin.
“I don’t want that anymore, Conrad.” I try to be kind about it, I try and blame my distance on myself. It is me who is trying so desperately to break things off. He’ll never know it was his cold heart that shattered our beautiful love. But it’s helpless, he won’t stop.
“Then we’ll travel the world. Y/n, I don’t care, I just want to be with you!” He tries again. Yet all his words are the exact same. He’s not even trying to understand me, I feel like screaming.
“No, no.” I reaffirm. I won’t look at him because it hurts me too much. I know if I look at him I’ll stay again. My chest is closing in on me, I can’t help but reach to hold onto it. My pinky grazes the same locket when I do. It’s dainty, but gorgeous. There’s stacks of photos within it. Mostly of Conrad, but a few of my family underneath.
“I’m not understanding, Y/n. I don’t get it?” He’s desperate, the train is coming. Once it pulls up to the platform, if he hasn’t convinced me one last time to stay, I’ll be forever gone. It’s the final fight, we can feel it.
“All we do is fight, Conrad. I can’t fight anymore. I tried to end it earlier and you promised me it would work out, it would stop but it hasn’t! And I can’t do it anymore.” My hands rest on the bends of his elbows. I hold him close, I look into his eyes finally, I want him to understand me, I beg for him to understand me.
“Then let me fix it. Let me make it better, Y/n. Anything, I’ll do anything I just can’t-don’t walk away.” My pleads are deaf on his ears. He doesn’t care about what I want, and it’s apparent now that he never did. He’s selfish, so he only takes. He wants me but he hates to have to deal with me.
“Conrad, stop!” He’s ranting, my voice is loud over his. A few people turn their heads. It’s so late in the evening, they’re only passing. Ready to go home.
My eyes shift around until everyone has gone back to their own business. The breath that leave my chest is heavy, harsh but quick.
“Please, Con. Please just try and listen to me.” My voice is breaking. Not because my leaving is breaking my heart, but because I am tired. I am tired of staying, of being so weak. I am wasting my youth on a boy who hasn’t matured yet. I deserve more, I crave it.
“There’s no amount of fixing either of us could do to mend whatever’s happened between us. We lost it a long time ago. And I’ll always love you, how could I not? You’re everything to me. But you’re not mine anymore, and I can’t be yours.” My hands slip from his skin to my chest. I try an even out my breathing, again I am reminded of my necklace. It feels wrong to still wear his picture around my neck when I’ve already let him go.
Unclasping it slowly, I let the gold gather in my palm. It’s warm from where it touched my skin. It’s rusting form how often it’s been worn, and my neck feels lighter. I ball up my fist, taking his hand over my other one steadily.
When he feels the warmth mixing with the coolness of the pendant, I can see him giving up. He nods, swallowing hard.
When the train comes, I wave goodbye to him one last time. He’s frozen, hand still holding the locket out and eyes still sad. I wonder how long he’ll stay there, I never see him move even as the train pulls away from the station.
………………………………………………………………………………….
The whirring of the train passing is accompanied by the occasional blowing of its horn. It’s deafening against the heavy silence that’s consumed me. There’s not even a crunch of a leaf to break it. Now that she’s gone, it’s settled in how I’m truly alone. I’ve blown it.
I wait for her to be out of sight. The caboose nothing more than a small speck in the horizon. The moon is high, the wind is chilling. It’s nearly winter in Boston, yet the weather is no where near as cold as my bones. I curl my fingers over her locket, bringing my knuckles to my lips, I breathe over it.
It doesn’t even smell like her. It’s a sad souvenir of pity. She didn’t want me, I’m certain she only gave it to me because she didn’t want a reminder of me either.
I stuff it into my pocket slowly, fingers feeling around the rough cotton of my pants. It sits snug at the bottom of it, right beside the long, handwritten note I prepared for her.
I knew I had my own demons, I know I was a mess. I treated her horribly, I gambled away our love. But this time I was serious. I wanted to fix it. I wanted to make it better.
My words meant little to nothing now. There were no amount of promises I could make when I was already too late.
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mamawasatesttube · 3 months
Text
a sneak peek of ch2 of androecia, rough draft, posted in order to motivate myself to keep working on it tomorrow:
He kisses Kon some more, because he can, and because kissing Kon is fucking radical. Today is different than last night—instead of a haze of frenzied desperation and need need need, he gets to actually savor it. It’s slow, warm and syrupy and sweet. He takes his time, leaning into Kon and exploring him properly.
Last night was all about Tim. But today, Tim wants to learn Kon. Every sound he can elicit by touching him, kissing him, caressing him; every different facet to his smiles, every gasp or sigh or hum of pleasure. The shape of his mouth, the way he likes to be kissed best.
One day, Tim will be a walking encyclopedia of all these facts. But today, he’s just setting out on his mission to learn and catalogue it all. It’s thrilling.
“Rob,” Kon breathes, his voice low and a little rough in a way that sends sparks shooting down Tim’s body. “Mm…”
“Clone boy,” Tim answers, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the pulse point in his neck. Kon makes a breathy sound and tips his head back, turning his face into the sofa cushions, and Tim smiles against his skin. Kon likes neck kisses.
Kon’s crop top has ridden up his ribs between them, exposing a delicious swath of golden-brown skin. Tim runs his hand down Kon’s chest, relishing the way Kon sucks in a breath as his fingers brush bare skin.
Kon’s fingers twine into his hair, an echo of the phantom fist that refused to let Tim look away from the mirror last night. He gently but insistently tugs him back up for another proper kiss, licking into his mouth. Tim makes a low noise in response, shifting against him to try and get even closer, and Kon spreads his thighs apart invitingly, pressing Tim to his chest.
When he breaks the kiss, Kon drops his head back against the armrest for a moment. His eyes are alien-bright, his cheeks flushed and his mouth an enticing shade of kiss-red. Desire pulses low in Tim’s gut.
“Robbie,” Kon murmurs, gazing up at him. He reaches up, his fingers grazing Tim’s cheek before his hand settles in against his jaw, his thumb caressing Tim’s lips. “You’re so beautiful.”
Tim’s face burns. “I—” He clears his throat, ducking his head. “Says you.”
Kon blinks, and then his lips curve into a slow, lazy grin. “Aw… you think I’m pretty, sunshine?”
Fuck. Sunshine reaches right into Tim’s chest and carves out a spot for itself, settles in warm and pretty like a drop of sunlight itself. Kon can’t keep getting away with that. Tim stares down at him for a moment, trying desperately to kick his brain back into functioning gear.
The most beautiful person in the entire universe just asked him if he thinks he’s pretty. Tim stares at him for a moment or two more, lips slightly parted but fumbling for words. Kon just called him sunshine. And is now gazing up at him with those gorgeous, inhuman eyes framed by thick, dark lashes. This close to him, Tim can see the faint, faded freckles sprinkled across the apples of his cheeks.
“That’s…” Tim clears his throat again. “That’s the understatement of, like, the century, but. Yeah.”
On the upside, admitting it makes Kon blush. On the downside, Kon only gets prettier when he’s blushing and smiling up at him like that, his eyes shining with warmth. “Oh,” he breathes, beaming. “Wow, Robbie, that’s…”
Kon’s arms twine around him, pulling him closer again. Kon’s smiling into the kiss, which is so endearing that Tim’s heart flutters in his chest as he kisses him and kisses him. He wants to hear Kon moan.
God, Tim just has to kiss him again.
A gentle pressure winds around his whole body like a weighted blanket, smushing him against Kon. Heat flares through him at the reminder of what Kon’s TTK can do to him, and he gasps against Kon’s mouth, his toes curling under the blanket. “Kon,” he breathes.
Kon pulls him into another kiss, humming in answer. His fingers stroke over the back of Tim’s neck, slow and soothing. “Mm…”
Tim skims a hand down to his chest again, strokes against his ribs. His fingers play with the rumpled hem of Kon’s shirt, dipping under it just slightly. “Can I?” he asks, breathless.
Kon lets out a soft noise, almost but not quite the moan Tim wants. “Robbie,” he says, a little strained. “You can do whatever you want with me.”
Tim’s heart skips, leaps, and soars. “Kon,” he says, and slips his hand up Kon’s chest.
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