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akaashisbabygirl · 3 years

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make me yours

if you know the original source of this picture! please dm me or let me know in my inbox so i can tag them

A/n: I am so excited to finally post my first length fic. I wrote a fic before about mafia akaashi and reader falling in love, and this one is similar but different as they are rival rivals. Check that one out too if you enjoyed this one!! I’m considering making a part two if this leaves people wondering what’s going to happens next <3 I wrote this story in third person as it was easier for me, for anyone wondering

Words: 6005

Pairings: Mafia!Akaashi x Mafia!Reader

Warnings: nsfw, characters are aged up, sex, oral (giving and receiving), hickeys, vaginal penetration, fingering

“Akaashi Keiji...” Yamiji, the great boss of the Fukurōdani mafia called out, stopping the young-looking boy in his tracks.

“What is it, sir?” Akaashi asked, his handsome turquoise eyes moving to face his boss.

“I need your advice with something... come with me.”

Akaashi nodded, tailing his boss down the lengthy corridor of the mafia building and into the headquarters where the boss generally stayed. Standing with his arms behind his back, Akaashi gently fiddled with his fingers, anxiously waiting for what the boss had called him in for. No one usually comes in Yamiji’s office, not unless something is the matter that he needs to discuss with them about. Akaashi wondered if he had done anything wrong. He didn’t want to be kicked out of the mafia - where would he go?

“We are at what seems like a war with the Nekoma mafia...” Yamiji started.

“Shit... that’s not good,” Akaashi thought. he knew that Bokuto, his best friend in the mafia was somewhat friends with Kuroo, one of the members of the Nekoma mafia. The two boys were close, Akaashi knew that. He wondered how Bokuto was going to take the news that they are now at what felt like a war against each other.

“And we want to be victorious... as usual. So, I’ve been working on some things lately and I’ve come up with a plan on how we can get the first laugh,” Yamiji’s choices of words were interesting, according to Akaashi.

“What is it, sir?” he asked, eyes now opening fully to know about the situation.

“What if the person we take out first it Nekomata’s daughter, Y/n?”

Akaashi thought about it for a second, “That would work. She is the head of the mafia’s daughter. Her death would be problematic with the Nekoma mafia, but then I fear they would come after us if they found out that we were the ones who assassinated her.

“Yeah! About that, don’t worry, Akaashi. I’ve already figured out ways we could get away with it. First option was to make it look like Nekoma’s other rival - Nohebi. Make it seem like they were the ones who ordered the assassination of Nekomata’s daughter,” Yamiji explained, chuckling evilly at his own plans.

“I believe that would work, but I’m not sure. do you have someone who you’ve picked to assassinate her?” Akaashi asked, just out of curiosity.

“Oh... yeah. Actually, about that, I was wondering if you could be that person?” Yamiji asked.

Akaashi blinked a couple times, to make sure he wasn’t daydreaming.

“You want me to do... what?” Akaashi thought he was dreaming. This didn’t seem right. In the mafia, he was only respected for being the brains of the group – nothing more.

“I would like you to be the one who assassinates Y/n. Will that be alright with you? I know you’re busy and all...”

“Yeah- no, no it should be alright,” Akaashi knew that he wasn’t able to defy the boss. He had to do what he was assigned.

“Really? Thank you, Akaashi!”

“You’re welcome sir. I promise, I won’t fail you.”

__________________________________________

I promise, I won’t fail you

The words ran through Akaashi’s mind on repeat, just like an echo. His eyes sat fixated on the naked girl standing in the bedroom, admiring her stunning body in the large, wide mirror. He could admit it – she had a nice body, she was an attractive girl, but he rejected to believe that she was Nekomata’s daughter.

She looked nothing like that old man. Her hair was (your hair length) and (your hair colour). She was young, looking around his age, maybe even younger.

How hadn’t she noticed him yet?

The dark grey curtains were wide open, the vivid light from the bedroom obvious to anyone who was looking up at the tall building.

How hadn’t she noticed him yet?

The boy settled with a mask concealing his face, donned in black clothing, standing on her balcony watching her. Or did she notice him and was acting like she didn’t. Judging by her facial expressions – she didn’t.

Akaashi watched as she slipped on the small nightgown that lay on the chair next to the mirror. She looked… stunning. How the fuck was she Nekomata’s daughter? She couldn’t be, unless her father had hooked up with someone, or Y/n had just got all her mother’s looks – that would only make sense.

Akaashi’s turquoise eyes were set on her – why did she make his chest hurt. She was nothing like he’d ever seen before, blowing him away so quickly.

He noticed her body turn to the windows, walking over. Akaashi tried to hide. Fuck. Did she notice him? Was she coming out to confront him, or even attempt to kill him? He would’ve been classified as a creep if anyone saw him standing on her balcony. He tried to hide himself to the best of his ability, turning his back around to blend in with the dark night sky. He held his breath, his eyes carrying a sign of fear as he silently prayed that he wouldn’t get caught.

A sigh of relief escaped Akaashi’s precious lips as he heard the curtains shut and the footsteps of Y/n walking off.

“It’s time to get out of here…” he muttered to himself, his mind now forgetting about the original plan to murder Y/n tonight. He couldn’t do it. Not now at least. He couldn’t kill her while he was still unsure why she had been making him feel slightly different. Akaashi sighed to himself, climbing down the rope he had used to get up.

__________________________________________

“I’m sorry sir…” Akaashi bowed in front of Yamiji, his eyes clenched shut as he prepared himself for his punishment, “I-I couldn’t kill her… I don’t know why… but I couldn’t.”

Yamiji sighed, “I really thought you would be the perfect person for this task, Akaashi. But, that’s not a problem. I can always just take you off the job and find another one of the members in this mafia to go kill her. I’m sure they’ll do it without a second thought.”

“NO.”

Akaashi didn’t know why he was screaming at this point. He couldn’t tell someone why his eyes were widened with shock from hearing his own boss say he would take him off the job. He wanted to prove that he was able to do what he was ordered to – that he wasn’t scared to do what he was assigned. But, all that Akaashi wanted to know was why she made him feel… odd? Why was there an instant urge to protect her when Yamiji said he would get someone else on the job? Why did he think she looked so beautiful when she had been disposed of her clothes?

“S-Sir… just let me have this job… please. I will go back whenever I can and try to kill her. Just please, let me have this job,” Akaashi silently mumbled, trying to conceal his inner feelings, fearing what his own boss would think of him for the way he acted.

“I’m going to leave you on the job, Akaashi. But you must promise me that you will kill her.”

“Yes sir. I promise.”

__________________________________________

“What’s with you, Akaashi?” Bokuto asked, his hand colliding with Akaashi’s back, almost making him choke on his water, “I heard the boss has given you a task to do… something important even.”

Akaashi sat his glass down on the table as his best friend went to sit across from him.

“You could say that.”

“What is it?” Bokuto asked in a curious tone.

“I… have to assassinate Nekomata’s daughter.”

“Nekomata’s daughter? Wait… from the Nekoma mafia?” Bokuto’s golden eyes widened in shock.

Akaashi only nodded I response.

“BRO. THAT’S SUCH AN IMPORTANT TASK.”

“Quiet down!”

“Oops… sorry. But, seriously Akaashi. I can’t believe it. You’ve been given such an important task, considering that we’re currently in war with the Nekoma mafia!”

__________________________________________

Akaashi stood on the silver balcony once more, peering into the room that Y/n stood in once again. This time, she was dressed fully in black clothing, similar to him. He hid his gun from himself, only threating to actually use it if someone did catch him standing up there.

There was no way in hell he could kill her. He didn’t have the guts to. At this point in life, Akaashi could only stand there and watch the beautiful girl who stood on the other end of the door. Her (your hair colour) hair was spread across the pillow on her bed, her attention drawn to her phone. Akaashi still wondered if she knew he were there – hopefully she didn’t.

He was sure of it now. Sure, that he didn’t want her dead. He wanted to keep seeing her like this. Keep watching her from her balcony like a stalker. He loved the way she sat on her bed, her (your hair colour) hair spread out on the pillow behind you, your attention directed to your phone. Akaashi sighed in defeat – there wasn’t going to be any way for him to get you to notice him, and it wouldn’t be long before Yamiji hired someone else to murder you.

He couldn’t fall in love.

He knew he couldn’t, because if anything were to ever happen to you, he would be heartbroken. Akaashi sighed. As much as he wanted to continue to stare at your beautiful features, he knew he couldn’t stay here for long. He would have to leave eventually.

__________________________________________

Kuroo sat in his chair, his feet up on the table as he whistled while Y/n walked by. Y/n rolled her eyes, ignoring him to the best of her ability.

“Hey kitten,” the tall, black haired boy smirked.

Y/n rolled her eyes, trying to walk past, only to have the boy grab onto her wrist. She struggled to free her wrist, but Kuroo was stronger than her, so really, there was no use.

“Let go of me, Kuroo,” she demanded, an angry tone filling her soft voice.

“Kitten… you know you want me to be with you. Come on. Why waste your time on some random boy when you can just be with me. You know I’ll treat you like the queen you are,” Kuroo winked.

She would only roll her eyes in response. It had become a regular occurrence where Kuroo would come up to her and suggest a relationship. However, she never wanted to be in a relationship – not now at least, and most definitely not with him. She was sick of being in the mafia with Kuroo, he was too much of a flirt. It made her a target of his, being the only girl in the Nekoma mafia.

“You say that, Kuroo, but the last girl you were in a relationship with, you cheated on her.”

“Yeah, but she wasn’t special. I just wanted to be with you, kitten.”

“I’m not taking any of your bullshit, Kuroo. I’ve told you at least a hundred, or even a thousand times, I do not want to be in a relationship with you. now, leave me the fuck alone. Father wants to see me for something!” you argued back, pulling your wrist from Kuroo’s grasp and storming off.

“Fucking bitch,” Kuroo muttered underneath his breath.

Y/n made her way as quick as possible up to her father’s office. She knew that if she wasn’t fast, Kuroo was going to come right after her. She didn’t want that – she didn’t want him. By this point, she was sick and tired of him and his bullshit. He would confess his love to her one day, and that exact night he’d be pulling a new girl into his bedroom and fucking her. It became obvious to her eyes that Kuroo really wasn’t interested, and she herself wasn’t planning on spending anytime waiting around for a boy who was unsure of his feelings.

Her body stood outside the dark, wooden doors of her father’s office. Her soft fingertips pressed against the keypad, typing in the special passcode of the office that only he gave her. The doors automatically opened, her father’s figure sitting at his desk now being visible to her (your eye colour) eyes.

“Hello Y/n,” her father’s evil smirk appeared onto his old face.

“What have you called me here for, father?” she never liked being called into her father’s office for long. She wanted to do her own thing, not sit around and listen to her father’s bullshit every once in a while.

“Oh, I see you’re jumping straight to the point.”

“Precisely. So, what is it that you want from me today?”

Nekomata took a breath before speaking again, “I have a task for you, my precious girl. You know how we are currently at war with the Fukurōdani mafia? I believe they’re going to send an assassin from their shitty group to come after one of our members… and their smartest member, Akaashi, would be a perfect first start for us.”

“What’s the thing with Akaashi?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“He’s the smartest one in their group. If we’re able to kill him first, the Fukurōdani mafia should knew not to mess with us.”

“Why exactly do you want me to be the one who kills Akaashi? Why can’t you pick someone else like Kenma or maybe even Kuroo? You know both of them would love to have that job.”

“Because both boys seem to have a slight friendship with Akaashi and Bokuto. They would both hesitate to take their so-called friend’s life, that is why I’m entrusting this mission to you, my sweet girl,” Nekomata explained.

You could only scoff, folding your arms as you stared at your father.

“So, what do you say, my dear? Will you be up to the task, or should I call someone else to do it for you?” her father asked.

He knew she loved to take on a challenge, which is why he threatened to give the job to someone else if she wasn’t up to it. He knew his ways to get what he wanted, and in times of need, he wouldn’t forget about these ways. Nekomata always got what he wanted.

“I will.”

__________________________________________

Y/n stood at her mirror, admiring her body. Her beautiful hair had been tied up in a lower ponytail, enough to keep it out of her face. Her body was draped with black clothing, mainly pants and a shirt, a belt strapped around her waist which was to hold her weapons.

She sighed; her eyes still focused on your body in the mirror. How did she end up in his position? How did she go from such an innocent girl to someone who took other people’s lives without any care in the world?

Quickly, she fled from her apartment, making her way to the address of this Akaashi fellow’s home.

Where he lived was such a beautiful place. Why was she feeling this way? Why was she imminently drawn to the place where he called home?

She climbed up the balcony with the rope she stored in her backpack. Resting herself on Akaashi’s balcony, she noticed the curtains of his apartment only slightly opened. Peeking inside, she could see the flashes of the TV screen lighting up the dark room, making out the figure of a boy sitting up against the bed head.

He had a dull look on his face – almost as if he was upset for some reason. Why did he look like that? Slowly she shook her head. She shouldn’t be thinking like this. Not at all. Her mind should’ve only been focused on the boy she was assigned to kill.

But why did she want to hold him so badly?

He looked young – just a little older than her. He had beautiful, messy, black hair, a decent body, dressed in a dark coloured shirt and some grey sweatpants. He was a good-looking boy. Y/n could only shake her head again.

Stop, stop, stop, stop. Why are you thinking like this, Y/n?

She shook her head, trying to throw the thoughts form her mind. That didn’t work. Her soft, (your eye colour) eyes sat focused on Akaashi, watching his every movement. She needed the right moment for when he was unarmed to go into the room and attack him. It wasn’t her first kill – so it was nothing new to her. She knew what she was doing.

She sat on his balcony, watching him for what felt like an hour before she noticed the boy get up from his spot on the bed. He walked down the corridor, shutting one of the doors behind him. He was probably using the restroom.

She used that opportunity to sneak into the apartment. How careless of this boy? Leaving the door unlocked for anyone to secretly walk in without him even realising. Quietly, she shut the glass door behind her, turning around to find a place to hide. She didn’t think about the situation. Where was she going to hide? What was she going to do? She didn’t think of anything properly at all.

“Just as I expected,” Her body jumped, hearing the voice of a man in the bedroom.

Anxiously, she turned around to find Akaashi standing behind her, his arms folded and a glare spreading over his face. She was able to see him more clearly now – he did indeed have a beautiful looking face. He was a beautiful boy.

When her father had first brought him up, she thought that he was going to be an older looking man, someone who had been in the mafia for several years – but her thoughts were wrong. Too wrong.

Akaashi stepped forward, only causing her to step back, trying her best to get away from him. These actions continued, until the back of her legs met with the edge of Akaashi’s bed. Why wasn’t she drawing her gun? She had it on her right now, she could use it to protect herself, but she didn’t.

Akaashi was now standing directly in front of her, chest against chest. Her body had lost all of its control. Akaashi’s hands flew up, pushing her down onto the bed. She wasn’t fighting back, not at all. She was completely mesmerised by this boy, by the way he acted and what he looked like. He was nothing compared to the Akaashi who she had imagined.

Akaashi kneeled onto the bed, pinning her tiny body underneath his large frame. His hands pinned her wrists down onto the sheets.

“You’re Y/n Nekomata,” how was his voice attractive too?

Why did she sound like she was falling for him?

“H-How do you know who I am?” she asked, her eyes widening.

“Because, my boss asked me to assassinate you. And now, you show up outside my apartment, even going as far to sneak into my apartment? You’re so rude, Y/n. I never once broke into your apartment when I was there,” he smirked.

Son of a bitch.

Why was he like this?

Why did his words create a blush that began to spread across her face? She didn’t like it when Kuroo touched her, pinning her to the wall or even trying anything remotely sexual with her, but she was fine with being pinned underneath the body of the man she was assigned to kill.

“Y-You’ve been to my apartment?” She didn’t know what else to say at this point. She had become absolutely speechless.

Akaashi stayed absolutely silent. She could only wonder now. Was Akaashi also assigned to assassinate her?

“I think it’s time you leave.”

The heartbreaking words that she didn’t want to hear fell from Akaashi’s lips.

However, she didn’t want to leave. Y/n wanted to stay pinned underneath his gorgeous body for as long as she could. She wanted to be close to him, bodies touching with the minimum lighting in the bedroom. Was she attracted to him? Maybe. Because, if this feeling was a normal feeling, why didn’t she feel the same way when it came to Kuroo, someone who she wasn’t ordered to kill from a rival mafia? Did the thrill of herself getting caught by someone with the man you’ve been assigned to kill thrill her in some way? Maybe. But honestly, she didn’t even know herself.

“C-Can you get off me first?” She asked, a small, playful chuckle leaving her lips.

Akaashi only smirked before letting go of her wrists, standing up and watching her pull herself from her laying down position. She readjusted her hair, grabbing her small bag that had fallen to the floor when he pinned her down.

She jumped, feeling a hand slip underneath her shirt and to her belt, grabbing the gun. Her head turned with widened eyes towards Akaashi, with her gun now sitting in his hand.

“I’ll be taking this from now on.”

He was truly a smart boy. A boy that she now wanted to meet again. She couldn’t kill him – especially not when he ignited some sort of fire inside of her body that she thought she lost.

__________________________________________

Y/n stood on the balcony once again, just like the week before. The curtains had been opened a little more this time. Akaashi was in the same position as last time, his back pressed up against the headboard as the glowing lights from the TV brought light to the dark room.

She could only sit and watch. She wanted to be caught by him again – if he would ever notice her. Y/n sat and watched; her eyes sitting focused on the boy who seemed to have no idea that she was there.

Y/n watched as his hand came into contact with the remote, pressing the pause button. He got up from his resting spot, walking over to the window.

He was coming towards her.

She didn’t know if she should move or stay and wait for him to find her. She wanted to feel him again, she wanted to be close to him. Even though, right now the smartest option was to move and leave before he could find her.

But she couldn’t move.

The curtains were drawn open, her face now meeting with Akaashi once again. The glass door slid open, Akaashi’s hand moving out to grab onto her wrist tightly, pulling her into the room. He pushed her towards the side, locking the door and shutting the curtains. He couldn’t have anyone seeing the two of them together.

“You haven’t been here in a week. I was starting to think you had gotten bored of me,” Akaashi smiled as he rested the palm of his hand on her cheek.

“My father wanted to spend some time with me, so I’ve been at his mansion for the last week,” she answered.

Seeing him like this, she was able to notice his height. He was tall, taller than her. She had to move her head up, just so she was able to stare into his turquoise coloured eyes.

“You keep coming back. Why is that?” Akaashi asked.

“I have to kill you…”

She has to kill him. That was what she was assigned. But she couldn’t. He had taken her only gun away from her the first time the two met face to face. It was childish of her to keep running back to the same guy she shouldn’t be with.

“You won’t.”

“What do you mean, I won’t?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowing.

“You won’t kill me.”

“Of course, I will. Why would you think I wouldn’t?”

“You’re here right now. You let yourself get caught.”

He wasn’t wrong. This is what her dad meant when he said that Akaashi was smart.

“Y-You…”

Akaashi smirked, leaning forward and pressing his lips onto her own. His lips were soft, but his kiss was strong and filled with passion. Her mind had gone completely blank, unable to focus properly. She returned the kiss, letting him slip his tongue past her lips.

This was wrong.

She pulled her lips from his, her mouth slowly parted as she looked up at him. She wanted him to tell her to stay, so she could get to know him. She wanted to stay. She didn’t want to leave him again. Akaashi had tugged at her heart strings harshly, and now, she didn’t know what to do without him.

“You need to leave. You can’t keep coming back here.”

She felt her heart sink.

__________________________________________

Y/n’s hands flew to his black hair. Her legs began to feel shaky as she came into contact with the back of the bed. Akaashi only pushed her forward, her back now meeting with the soft sheets of the bed

It had been weeks since he first kissed her. Weeks of her sneaking back to his apartment because she desperately needed to see him. It had been the same with Akaashi too. There had been days where he made his way over to her apartment, sitting on her balcony and watching as she fell asleep, making sure she was safe.

Truth was – he didn’t want her to leave.

He knew she wasn’t, as she kept appearing at his apartment. He continued to let her in, as he started to realise, he was falling for her. It was obvious that she was falling for him too; especially with the small blush that would appear onto her face when he would touch her or kiss her.

His hands moved to her wrists, pinning them down tightly onto the bed once more. Akaashi’s lips moved from her lips, down to her neck, sucking on her soft, delicate skin. Soft pants flew from her lips as he found her sweet spot.

His lips began to suck on her collar bone, hands desperately tugging on her black shirt, desperate for the material to come off.

“C-Can I?”

Even though she was from a rival mafia gang, he still wanted to take his time with her. He wanted her to feel safe in his arms.

“Y-Yeah…”

Instantly, he slipped the black shirt from her body, revealing her lace, black bra. It was almost as if she had planned for this exact moment.

“You’ve been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you?” He smirked, burying his head into her chest.

Akaashi’s hands flew to her back, unclasping her bra. He pulled away, throwing her bra onto the floor where the rest of her clothes lay, discarded somewhere on the wooden floorboards. Her hands flew to cover her breasts from his eyes, but Akaashi only held onto her hands, pinning them back down onto the bed. He noticed the small blush which began to sit on her cheeks, due to her chest being exposed to the boy she was supposed to kill.

This was stupid of her, to be all exposed, needy and wet for him. She had been assigned to go kill him, not sleep with him. It wasn’t her first-time having sex, she wasn’t a virgin, and it wasn’t the first time she and Akaashi had done something sexual. He had fingered her, gone down on her, and she’d even given him a blowjob. However, the two of them had never gone the full way before, and she wanted that to change tonight.

She wanted him to take her and make her his.

Akaashi’s soft lips wrapped around her nipple, sucking lightly. Her head was thrown back against the pillows, her breathing heavy, chest rising and her lips slightly parted. Akaashi switched his attention to her other nipple, a small whine leaving her lips.

“Keep your hands where they are. I don’t want to have to tie you to the headboard.”

She did as she was told. It was funny with how quickly Akaashi could pull her down into submission. His hands unbuttoned her pants, pulling the zipper down, tugging the black material down her legs. He pulled his own shirt off, throwing it to the pile of clothes on the floor, along with her pants. Akaashi pressed soft kisses onto the inside of her thigh, before coming into contact with her matching black, lace panties. He ran his finger along her clothed womanhood, a small moan falling from her lips. She was wet, soaking even.

“You’re soaking for me, baby.”

He slipped her panties down her legs, throwing them to the floor as he spread her legs apart for him. Her legs sat spread wide, her slick evident to his eyes. Akaashi dipped his head down to her womanhood, licking a strip around her folds, collecting her wetness on his tongue. His tongue pushed into her cunt, a louder moan falling from her lips. His lips moved up, sucking on her clit as his fingers toyed with her entrance. From how wet she was, he was able to push two fingers into her cunt. He dragged them along her tight walls, curling them inside which earned a sharp moan to fall from her lips.

Her body was sensitive to Akaashi’s touch. She craved him more than he craved her. Her hips bucked up as he was able to slip another finger inside of her, stretching her out for him. Akaashi’s fingers were long and slim, decorated with beautiful veins which stood out. His fingers hit spots deep inside of her. Her walls clenched tightly around Akaashi’s fingers, moans slipping from her lips as she lost control of her body.

“G-Gonna cum…” her voice was shaky, legs shaking as her climax washed over her like a wave.

Akaashi removed his fingers from her cunt, watching how her cum had coated his fingers. He brought his fingers to his lips, sucking on her cum. He watched as she tried to hide her face from him.

“Get on your knees,” he commanded.

Following orders, she moved onto her knees, watching how Akaashi now set himself up against the bed head, his legs spread as he stroked his clothed boner, “You know what to do.”

She crawled in between his legs, hands moving to unzip his pants, tugging them down his legs, along with his boxers. Her eyes came into contact with his member once again. She threw his clothes to the floor, her mouth moving down to wrap her lips around his length. Akaashi’s hand sat on top of her forehead, helping her take more of him into her mouth. She maintained eye contact with him as she went down on him

“Rub your clit for me, baby. Make yourself cum,” Akaashi moaned out.

She followed orders once again, rubbing her clit. Pleasure spread throughout her body as her wet cunt clenched around nothing. She could feel her arousal dripping down her thighs, her legs shaking as her clit became sensitive. Being sensitive, her climax built up almost quickly, her cum now shooting from her cunt, dripping down her legs and onto Akaashi’s bedsheets.

She felt horrible for ruining his sheets, but her mind was filled with lust and need for him to even consider apologising. Akaashi pulled his length from her lips, watching as drool began to slip from her lips.

Akaashi grabbed onto her hips, lining her up above his erect length. He helped push her down, her walls clenching tightly around his length. He knew she wasn’t a virgin, so he didn’t care much about making sure if it hurt or not. She clenched her eyes shut for a second. He was the biggest she had ever taken. He helped her take all of him in, before pulling her off of him. A small gasp left her lips as she was thrown back down against the bed, her legs being wrapped around Akaashi’s waist as he began to thrust into her.

He took his anger on the mafia out on her, tearing her tight cunt open with every thrust of his hips. The room began to be filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, loud moans falling from her lips as deep groans fell from Akaashi’s. He hated the fact that they were both assigned to kill each other, but they both couldn’t. he couldn’t accept the thought that she had to die, that she had to be killed in order for the Fukurōdani mafia to scare off the Nekoma mafia.

He wanted to be with her. She wanted to be with him.

He loves her. She loves him.

But they can’t be together. They can’t be seen in public. They can’t hang around and hold hands and make love to each other. They were rivals, but they were in love. Rivals in love. Two people who were exact opposites were in love. They were drawn to each other, desperate for each other. They needed each other to survive.

“A-Akaashi… I-I love y-you,” she moaned out without any care in the world.

Akaashi’s heart felt as it had stopped. Did she really just say that?

She wanted to hide the fact that she was in love with him, but now that her mind had been clouded with the feelings of love, passion and lust, she wasn’t able to conceal her feelings towards him.

“I love you too,” he groaned out, fingers moving to rub harsh circles on her clit while his lips moved to suck on her neck.

“C-Cumming… Akaashi.”

“M-Me too.”

The two both climaxed together, Akaashi’s seed shooting inside of her. He began to panic, knowing he didn’t pull out and that he wasn’t sure if she was on birth control or not. He pulled out of her, going to the bathroom to grab a towel as the thought ran through his mind. What the fuck did he just do?

He grabbed the wet towel, cleaning in between her legs.

“You need to go home…” Akaashi mumbled under his breath. He didn’t want her to leave. He wanted her to stay and spend the rest of the night with him, but he knew how dangerous it was for her to stay.

“I don’t want to leave. I want to stay with you! And- I-I don’t think I can walk.”

With the way her soft eyes were looking at him, soft and serious, he couldn’t say no. Instead, Akaashi pulled the bedsheets over her naked body, covering her and himself. Akaashi let his head rest on the pillow, her hands moving to rest on his chest as she curled up to his side, falling into a deep slumber.

__________________________________________

“Hey kitten,” Kuroo smirked.

She was sick and tired of Kuroo now. She wanted to scream and tell him that she’s in love with another boy. That she had sex with another boy and tell him that he needed to leave her alone or she would kill him.

But she couldn’t.

“How’s the mission going, kitten? Actually, killed him yet?” Kuroo smirked.

She wanted to scream. She couldn’t kill him.

“Just leave me alone Kuroo, I don’t want your pity.”

He only chuckled, “Suit yourself, kitten.”

He pushed her up against the wall, hands pinning hers to the cold, wooden wall, “Though, I will make you mine, if you like it or not.”

“You can’t.”

Kuroo tilted his head in confusion.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Someone has already made me theirs,” she smirked.

“That’s bullshit. Everyone in the mafia knows that you’re going to belong to me, and only me. No one would be stupid enough to touch you without my permission. You’re lying!”

It was almost as if Kuroo was trying to convince himself that she still was going to be with him, that she hadn’t been taken by someone who was going to love her more than he ever could.

“Pull the bandage from my neck and look. There is your proof.”

Kuroo tugged the bandage from around her neck. His eyes widened, noticing the dark purple marks which decorated her neck.

“Where the fuck did you get these?”

“From the boy who made me his, Kuroo.”

Kuroo threw the bandage to the floor in anger, “You fucking slut.”

“Correction. His slut,” you chuckled, watching as Kuroo stormed off in anger.

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infinitelytheheartexpands · 3 years

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My Personal Opinions on Some French Grand Opéras

Here we go. I’ll be focusing solely on pieces in what’s widely considered the “Golden Age” of grand opéra (from 1828 to about 1870).

1828, Auber: La muette de Portici: never seen or heard so I cannot comment, but I do think it slaps that it helped start both the Belgian Revolution and the genre of grand opéra.

1829, Rossini: Guillaume Tell: I love this one. it’s one of the few grand opéras that has a happy ending and it’s fully deserved. it’s long but it all has a point-- the first act introduces us to the community spirit that drives the rest of the action; even though it’s called Guillaume Tell, it’s not just about Guillaume Tell. it’s about a whole movement coming together, with all these vividly-drawn people of different social statuses, ages, heritages, and livelihoods coming together to do good in the world in the face of oppression. also it’s Rossini so it bops start to finish. the finale is one of opera’s best. I could not have higher praise and admiration for this piece.

1831, Meyerbeer: Robert le diable: another rare case of a grand opéra with a happy ending, but it feels a bit more contrived, something I wrote about when I watched it about a year ago for the first time. it’s quite a clever ending, however, and I love that these lovely characters get a happy ending. Robert is the least interesting principal character both musically and dramatically; the musical highlights of the show are mostly Bertram and Isabelle’s big scenes. the former is also arguably grand opéra’s most exciting ballet sequence, the Act III ballet of the nuns (or as I like to call it, the Zombie Nun Ballet). it’s long but it is incredibly worth it. overall, I really do enjoy this opera although it is very much an uneven piece.

1833, Auber: Gustave III, ou le bal masqué: here’s a thing I wrote about it like 3 months ago and I stand by every word.

1835, Halévy: La juive: It’s damn near impossible to find an even remotely close to complete recording. However, what the recordings have is excellent. The score is marvelous all the way through, although for the most part I tend to prefer the ensembles to the arias (the exception, of course, being Éléazar’s 11 o’clock number). Speaking of Éléazar, he’s an extremely complicated and frankly uncomfortable character, toeing the line between being one of opera’s most complex characters, an even more complicated proto-gender-swapped-Azucena if you will, and being an unfortunate vessel of antisemitic stereotypes. This is made even more complicated because Halévy was an assimilated Jewish composer. On the whole, Rachel is the only wholly sympathetic character in the piece, although all five of the principals are lovingly scored.

1836, Meyerbeer: Les Huguenots: *holds things in because otherwise I would write an entire essay about this opera and you all know that because I have done that several times* Both a great strength and a great weakness of this piece is its sheer wide-ranging-ness, particularly in terms of mood. Unlike, say, La juive, this opera does not have one overall mood, instead steadily progressing from bright, brilliant comedy to one of the most horrifying endings in opera. Dramatically, this is great for the most part, although the sheer amount of exposition in the first two acts may take getting used to. Just as the drama gets more intense and concentrated as the opera goes on, the music gets more intense- and frankly, more often than not better- as the opera goes on. The window/misunderstood engagement business is something I still struggle to see the exact dramatic purpose of, because I think the question of religious difference would likely be enough to separate Raoul and Valentine at the beginning anyway; to me, it feels like Scribe and Deschamps were struggling to find a way to integrate Nevers into the story, as he is crucial to the opera’s lessons about love and tolerance, so they stuck in a quasi-love-triangle in order to justify his presence earlier on. (Also, for goodness sake, could you at least have given him an onstage death scene?) Anyway, in this way the story can be a bit unwieldy and uneven at first, but stay the course with this one...and even a lot of the first couple of acts are wonderful. The characters are all wonderfully written if rather episodic in many cases, but this opera is ambitious and by the end, it’ll tear your heart to shreds. It’s amazing. Uneven, yes, but amazing nonetheless, and I will defend it to the death.

1840, Donizetti: La favorite: I’m not as familiar with La favorite as with some of the others on this list (I’ve seen two different productions once each and I have a recording of it saved to my Spotify library that I listen to bits and pieces of very occasionally) but I do think it’s an excellent piece overall. LÉONOR DESERVED SO MUCH BETTER. The music is lovely all around; I know Donizetti wrote at least one other grand opéra in full and part of another, both of which I need to check out because in its own way, Donizetti’s style works wonderfully with grand opéra.

1841: Halévy, La reine de Chypre: here is a post I wrote about La reine de Chypre. basically all my thoughts remain the same except I have to add: Halévy as a whole just needs more love. there’s a few other of his operas I have waiting (a recording of Le dilettante d’Avignon that has been sitting in my Spotify for who knows how long and a film of Clari with Bartoli and Osborn I’m also sitting on) but there are so many pieces that sound fascinating but have basically ZILCH in terms of recordings.

1849, Meyerbeer: Le prophète: before I say anything else about this opera, I need to ask a burning question: WHY THE HELL IS THERE ONLY ONE GOOD VIDEO RECORDING OF THIS OPERA?!?! on the one hand, I adore the Osborn/Aldrich/Fomina production; on the other, I would also like other productions, please. anyway, I said one time in the opera Discord that while Les Huguenots will probably always be my favorite Meyerbeer opera for an array of reasons, this one is definitely Meyerbeer, Scribe, and Deschamps’ strongest work. it is both unusually dark and unusually believable for an opera of its time—and the fact that it still holds up so well is disturbing to say the least. this opera thrives on complexity in all forms and yet has probably (and paradoxically) the simplest plot to follow of the four Meyerbeer grand opéras. the score is brilliant start to finish, mixing the best of bel canto, Romanticism, and something altogether darker, stranger, and more original. definitely one of the most underrated operas ever. the aforementioned production is on YouTube with French subtitles; give it a watch here.

1855, Verdi: Les vêpres siciliennes: Vêpres is an opera I love dearly although I have yet to find a production that is completely satisfying. I think it’s because this opera is a lot deeper, a lot more complex, and a lot more troubling, frankly, than people are willing to go. also it should be performed bilingually and I am dead-set on this: the dissonance of an opera about French capture of Italian land being sung entirely in either French or Italian is always a little off at least (and also part of the reason why my brain probably adjusted to hearing this opera in either language better than, say, Don Carlos). but anyway, neither side comes off particularly well here, particularly due to the violence and sexual assault on both sides of the equation: both Montfort and Procida are heavily in the wrong, and while Verdi sympathizes with both for personal reasons (Verdian Dad in the former case, Italian Liberator in the latter), there is a lot of troubling stuff in here. nevertheless, the music bops, the story is intriguing, and I think we can all agree that Henri and Hélène both deserved better, especially considering how close they got to bliss (although I think we can also all agree that the end of Act IV twist to almost-rom-com is pretty abrupt).

1863 (full opera: 1890), Berlioz: Les Troyens: I wrote this review of Troyens after watching it in the Châtelet 2003 production in December 2019 (first time ever watching it) and I still stand by just about every word. Such a fascinating opera, great adaptation of the first few books of the Aeneid, marvelous score (of course, it’s Berlioz!)...but could there be a ballet or two fewer, Berlioz? Or at least shorten them up? And that’s coming from someone who likes ballet. But anyway, in every other respect it’s absolutely marvelous. Some people say it’s the greatest French opera ever, and while I hesitate to say that, it comes pretty damn near close.

1865, Meyerbeer: L’Africaine (Vasco de Gama): Vasco da Gama/L’Africaine is even more troubling—much more troubling—of an opera than Vêpres to me and I wrote a whole thing here as to why. I still stand by most of it, although upon reflection, I feel like the ending that drove me so crazy has virtually the exact same idea behind it as the end of Troyens/Book IV of the Aeneid: empire has consequences and those consequences hurt real people, who, though different and not among those perceived as “heroic”, are worthy of being treated as human, not being collateral damage. (I’ve written at least two essays about this for different classes, both specifically in regards to the Aeneid.) It may be time to revisit this one. The score is lovely, after all, although it didn’t stand out to me as much as others by Meyerbeer.

1867, Verdi: Don Carlos: *holds myself back from writing a 10-page essay* y’all, there is a reason that when someone asks me what my favorite opera is, I always choose this one even though I’m horrible at favorites questions. it’s Verdi, grand opéra, romantic drama (SO MUCH romantic drama and SO MUCH gay), political drama, religious/social struggle, personal struggle, social commentary, spectacle, intimacy, masterful characterization all in one. what more could you want? I first saw/heard this opera in Italian long before I did in French, so my brain is more hardwired to hearing the Italian but both are good. my motto is “Italian or French, I don’t care, but Fontainebleau has to be there.” fuck the four-act version. I mean, I will watch four-act versions but five-act versions are just superior. I’d prefer uncut performances (the first part of the garden, the Lacrimosa, the extended opening and ending), but these aren’t dealbreakers for me. it’s the perfect synthesis of Verdi and grand opéra, much less unwieldy than Vêpres (as much I love that one), both musically and dramatically.

1868, Thomas: Hamlet: Part of me wishes this was more faithful to the actual source play (why??? the??? fuck??? does??? Hamlet??? live??? although there are alternate endings), but part of me also realizes that the play is already four hours long as is and singing it plus ballet would make it WAY too fucking long. This does a pretty respectable job. The music is gorgeous, by turns almost sugary-sweet and thrillingly ominous. The Murder of Gonzago scene is an absolute masterpiece. The Mad Scene is justifiably one of opera’s best (although I’m not sure it was a good idea to have that and a frequently-cut 20-minute ballet with no relation whatsoever to the main plot to make up all of Act IV). There are a lot of bops in this one. The four principals are closely followed and still very well-drawn. Both of the stagings I have seen were excellent. An underrated opera.

1869 (grand opéra version), Gounod: Faust: Another of my absolute favorite operas. Since this existed for a decade before its transformation into the grand opéra we all know and love, I won’t comment much about its actual format and adherence to grand opéra tropes aside from saying the Walpurgisnacht ballet is one of grand opéra’s best and extremely good at giving off Vibes TM. I used to hate how the character of Faust was written and thought he was incredibly boring. Not anymore (although of course, I still hate him as a person. fuck him tbh). This opera has a reputation for being saccharine and old-fashioned and I think that’s a bunch of garbage right there. It’s about the search for eternal youth and the expectations of conforming to social values and people’s struggles with themselves when a) they “fall short” and b) when the world ostracizes them for being “different” and “out of line”. I am also firmly convinced that Marguerite is the real protagonist of Faust (like how I’m convinced that Valentine is the protagonist of Les Huguenots if there even is a singular protagonist in that opera but I digress). The music slaps. People need to stop cutting whole scenes out of this. I’m still undecided on the order of the church and square scenes of Act IV. Marguerite and Siébel just need everything good in this world.

Anyway, those are my two cents! I tried to keep these pretty short, so if y’all want any follow-ups, let me know!

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buck-nialled · 4 years

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Two Million Minutes (7) - N. Horan

NOTE: your wishes are my commands, anons! its also worth mentioning that ofc Jake would not take this persona in his real life, I just needed a good antagonist for the story and to add the love!triangle trope into the mix. And in case any returning readers were wondering, this is the last SUPER angsty part of the story i’m pretty sure <3 enjoy!

PLAYLIST // PART ONE // PART TWO // PART THREE // PART FOUR // PART FIVE // PART SIX

Niall’s response to Jake’s unexpected leave in the Skype call was only slightly bothersome. He had much bigger things to wrap his head around, like why Veronica would not give him the full story of the two as a couple. While his angry stomps probably left his footprints sunken into the floors, Niall could not care less. He was much more occupied with his current emotions: confusion, betrayal, hurt. And of course, through this sinkhole of thoughts he had fallen into, anger reached him again.

Anger for Veronica? A little. But the feud he built by and with himself far exceeded it. He failed to admit to himself amidst his resentment that, despite what Jake communicated, something was pulling him toward the woman. Each memory Niall recollected over the past month, even the anguishing regrets and failures he faced, were worth living through again to see her face in just one. Whether that be something his mind constructed in the fantasy-like state of his unconscious, or something real that she had buried in order not to tell him.

Niall wants to believe Jake’s side, with every part of his heart because he knows choosing one wrong step could lead to losing one of his closest friends. He needed Veronica, though, never mind the small crush she might have had on one of his mates. Jake and Y/N would never work out, they were total opposites and always butting heads with one another over trivial matters. Maybe that was why she never started anything with him, Niall concludes. It is possible the woman could have come to realize how mismatched the pair would have been.

Or, maybe she held Niall to that of one she respected. Niall knows he does and did. That was why they still lived together; it has to be. There would be no other reason for exes to be roommates other than the fact that they care too deeply about one another. So, to an extent, the feeling was still mutual. How Niall’s mind went from absolute rage to lovestruck within minutes was disregarded by him. He glanced over to the pile of freshly folded clothes Y/N cleaned the other day, and his eyes halted at the vanilla hoodie beaming back at him from the stack.

Upon unfolding it, and throwing it over his topless frame, another flash of a memory stunned him and left him entranced for a few moments.

“They’re here! Baby, come here!” Niall cheers, throwing the large box of the final prototypes of his merchandise. Flicker was soon to be released, alongside a few tee-shirts, a hoodie, and some smaller items. Niall had been in and out of the studio those last few weeks, putting the finishing touches on all of his work, but feeling less than satisfied come sundown. It was difficult being a musician and not having anything physical to prove your triumph other than the occasional sore throat and calloused fingers from guitar strings. But after ripping the tape from the boxes lid and throwing the flaps open, he felt a surge of satisfaction like no other run through him.

“What’s here?” Veronica enters the room, bouncing in her steps with excitement. It made another surge go through the man’s body, but this one seized his heart. He grinned at his girlfriend’s buoyant presence, which never failed to make an entrance and leave him with a smile drawn onto his lips. “Final prototypes for the merch! Wanna model em’ for me?” Niall offered with a wiggle of his eyebrows. Veronica only giggles, placing her hands against her chest.

“I’d be delighted.” She replies, snatching the first article of clothing her eyes could catch in the box and scurrying off to the bathroom.

“I’ve already seen everything, baby, there’s no need t’ hide!” Niall’s teasing calls from the kitchen are barely picked up from the woman casually undressing in the bathroom.

“Have to make it professional! This is Niall Horan’s merchandise, for crying out loud!” She exclaims. To play along with the charade, Niall whips out his phone from his back pocket, and begins playing one of his newly released singles for the album, “Slow Hands”.

“Ready when you a—” Niall’s voice abruptly concludes when the door in the middle of the hall opens, revealing the sexiest model you could have laid eyes on. She strutted right to him, donned in cotton shorts and a hoodie with his name on it while the devious song reverberated along the house’s walls. When she gets close enough to lay a hand against his chest, she does so without hesitation. Her eyes dart to his Adam’s apple, which bobs up and down as he swallows thickly.

“What do you think?” She inquires with a sly bite of her lips. Niall groans through his answer, letting his rough hands fly to her hips and sneak their way under the hoodie.

“I think…” He picks her up suddenly, spinning her about and setting her squealing figure down onto the counter with a smirk playing on his lips. “I’m never letting you take this off.” He whispers against her lips, before pressing his body to fit in between her legs and sealing the promise with a kiss.

Niall blinks suddenly, finding himself back in his bedroom with his fists clenching the hoodie tight in his grip. He needed to talk to her, and he needed to do it now.

When Veronica suggested she and Jake meet up to discuss things, his apartment was not what she had in mind. It farther away from her house and work than she usually tolerated driving. But he somehow won her over by sharing the name of one of her favorite wines and takeout, which led her to his doorstep as she tapped her foot impatiently. All-day—no, all week Niall never seemed to leave her mind once. The way he was presenting himself around her seemed oddly familiar with those that took place during the beginning of their friendship. Of course, she was thrilled seeing him slowly becoming wrapped around her finger, especially since she never managed to unravel from his through the entire process. Last night, though, the doubts began to creep in.

How was she going to break the news that they already dated—or were dating before he suffered his concussion? Professing your undying love was not something you threw in over a few drinks and small talk. While he seemed more reserved about the issue, Veronica knew he must have remembered some things from the last five years. Maybe some consisted of them together, maybe it did not. All Veronica knew, though, was that she was clueless on how to break the news if, a couple of months down the line, Niall asks why she’s calling it their fifth anniversary when they have just started dating.

Not to mention all of the photos of the two of them, kissing and cuddling and being obvious, established couple. She is still surprised by Niall’s lack of questions if he did happen to scour through his camera roll.

“You look like you need a drink,” Jake states, facing her from the other side of the door. Veronica only scoffs, rolling her eyes.

“What gave that away?”

“The sudden need to talk…and that crazy look in yer beautiful eyes.” Her friend remarks with a small smile. He steps aside to let her enter, and Veronica does so apprehensively.

She was aware that Jake may have fancied her years back. She was also clear to him many times over the phone she did not feel the same way, and that the glances across the dinner tables when she did swing by the pub to join Niall and his mates were as unappreciated as they were unreciprocated. While she figures—or more so hopes—his feelings died out, the comment made her feel regretful for accepting his invitation over. She ignores the compliment and slumps down against his couch, while Jake takes the advantage to eye her cleavage through her white, ruffled button up as Veronica scrubs her hands over her face.

“It’s about Niall.” She sighs out, sitting up properly. Jake strolls into the kitchen, pulling two recently purchased wine glasses out from the cupboard, along with the recently purchased bottle of dark red to fill them.

“I figured.” He says bluntly, digging through his cabinets for a corkscrew.

“Has he talked to you at all, lately?” Jake keeps his lips firm as he concludes his hunt for the tool and digs the end into the bottle’s cork. He starts twisting.

“A little.”

“Really? Did he—I mean…has he mentioned me at all?” The girl’s eyebrows raise. Jake twists the screw further.

“Here and there.” The man shrugs it off as nothing, but all Veronica could picture was the tiny progress bar growing a little greener. That does not mean Niall has been completely ignorant of her existence.

“What’s he been saying?”

“He said you two butt heads a bit,” Jake recalls the Skype call earlier before a familiar pop is resounding from the kitchen.

“Yeah, at the start. There were a few things for him that were difficult to remember and relive, emotionally.” Veronica clarifies, a look of pity in her eyes as she thinks back to the day Niall’s voice reached an entirely new level of volume, his tone a wave of fierce anger she never wanted to be a victim to again.

“The lad didn’t get mad at you, did he?” Jake asks, a shadow glooming his tone. Veronica stayed silent, looking down and picking at the skin beside her fingernails. “Did he?” Jake repeats, voice layered with gravity. Veronica merely shrugs and waves her hand.

“He just yelled a little. But he apologized later, it was understandable.” Two clinks were heard and Y/N cranes her neck up to the sight of two wine glasses being set carefully on the coffee table. Jake takes a spot less than a foot away from the woman on the couch, who was doing her best to avoid his judgmental eyes.

“It’s not understandable. He overreacted and took his anger out on you when you were trying to help him. And you don’t deserve that, Vee.” She does not know what left her stunned for a few seconds after his words. If it was the nickname or the casual hand he felt necessary to place high on her leg.

“Well, he apologized anyway.” She murmurs, leaning forward to take a sip of the dark, bitter liquid. “I never took you for a wine drinker.” She muses with a small turn of her lips, trying to dissolve the uneasiness eating away at her insides.

“Well,” his other hand comes out to pick his glass up. He inches forward, closer to Veronica who visibly gulps, before clinking her glass with hers, “you’ll find me to be full of surprises.”

A smooth saxophone wails in the air and enters Veronica’s ears, an impetus for the blood pumping through her body to swarm her freckled cheeks. Jake retreats from the record player and takes a seat on the couch again, closer to Veronica than he was before. Or ever, for that matter.

“So, did Niall mention anything else? About us?” Specifically, at the term ‘us’ is when Jake’s hold slightly tightened around the neck of his glass.

“No.” He states flatly and restrains his tight-lipped smile from turning into a snarl. Veronica’s head shakes as she elicits a soft “oh”. Jake swallows, picturing her mouth in that same shape below him, naked and whimpering. Biting his lip, he studies her disappointed figure in silence for a moment.

“Was there anything else you wanted to discuss? How was work?” Jake offers a new topic, but Y/N is sighing and tossing her head back before he could even finish the question.

“It’s just that Niall’s been acting odd lately. He’s getting all fidgety and nervous when he’s around me like when we first met and started dating and I just…I don’t know if he feels what he thinks he does for me now. I hope he does, but how could I tell him?” Her eyes meet Jake’s in desperation for her problem to be fixed. Jake only shrugs and allows another tense silence to fall in between them.

“You know what? This is stupid, I-I should just go talk to him about it.” She slides the strap of her purse on her shoulder and is about to push herself off of the couch when Jake’s hand flies to rest on her leg again.

“No. You can’t leave yet, we’ve barely talked. And the food is almost here, please.”

“I think it’d be best to go to Niall. He knows his feelings best.” Veronica, of course, was not sure about the validity of her statement. It was more so an excuse to leave Jake’s presence. “I can come for food another time. My treat.” She offers, gesturing to herself.

“No, please!” Jake begins begging. “Vee—“

“Please don’t call me that.” The girl’s voice breaks in, barely a whisper.

“Sorry, it’s just that this is hard for me too. Seeing someone I know as a brother suffer like this, it just kills me inside. Believe it or not, I need this more than you do. Just talking to you is easing the situation and it’s been hard as hell to find somebody who understands me as you do. Please.” And with his eyes bulging as she pleaded, Veronica could not verbally give assent. She mustered a small nod, her figure sinking back into the couch.

“Thank you, Ve-Veronica. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” His hand snakes down to take her own, lacing their fingers. Veronica’s heartbeat quickens in panic at the intimate moment she stumbled into without motive. Fortunately, his dry, cracked hands were not embracing hers for long. The doorbell ringing drew his eyes away from her and to the front of the house.

“Must be the food. I got Thai…your favorite.” He reminds had, before standing up to fetch the delivery. As he does this, she digs frantically through her bag, and upon retrieving her phone, spots a few missed calls and a text from Niall.

Where are you?

Glancing up at the door, she sees the muscles in Jake’s back flexing behind his shirt as he stood before the talkative delivery worker. Quickly, Veronica’s fingers mash against her phone’s screen as she hears the sound of Jake’s front door clicking shut.

At Jake’s apt, you should come! Right now!

At Jake’s return to the couch, she is stuffing her phone back into her purse. When she turns her attention back to him, a to-go box full of Thai is being shoved into her face. Being fearful of another outburst from her friend, she took the food from his hands with a grateful smile.

“So, how have you been doing…with everything happening?” The woman inquires, fork picking lazily at the plate of noodles.

“Honestly, better than I’d thought I’d be.” He grins.

“Yeah, that’s good.” She replies flatly with a small nod. Jake takes notice of her fork twirling in the pile of noodles but never picking them up. Did she not like it? He could have sworn he got her usual order.

“Is there something wrong with the food?” He asks in a stern voice, lifting his eyebrows in question. Glancing down at her plate, yet to be digested, she frantically shakes her head.

“No, no it’s fine! And it was kind of you to invite me over and buy dinner, I’m just…lost in my thoughts.” She rambles, placing a hand at the front of her cranium to ease the pounding which had begun not too long ago. His hand is back on her leg a moment later and is gliding up and down her thigh. Jake thought the motion was soothing and would bring relaxation, but she felt anything but relaxed. His touch made her skin begin to crawl and goosebumps rise hastily along her arms and legs.

“I can think of a few ways to distract you...” Jake whispers lowly, bringing his hand up to caress Veronica’s inner thigh, and eager lips to meet her plump ones. A gasp leaves her mouth, and her arms stretch outward to brace herself and jostle the man backward.

Jake stares blankly for a moment at the carpet, before his eyes turn up to look back at her. “What was that for?” He barks. Veronica was appalled by his reaction as if he was expecting her to reciprocate the affection.

“What was that fo—that was for you! What the hell do you think you were doing?” She cries, standing up from her spot on his couch. This elicits a string of demeaning chuckles from the man’s lips before he is standing in front of her nearly-eye level.

“Please, Vee. You’ve wanted me from the moment we met.” She almost wasted her snarky come back to tell him not to call her that, and nearly missed his last few words.

“Excuse me?” Her eyebrows barely grazed her hairline by how high they rose. She crosses her arms, staring Jake up and down.

“C’mon, it was obvious! We were always sendin’ each other looks, we always clicked—”

“We never clicked, Jake! Never, not once! The only thing we have in common is—”

“Don’t say his name,” Jake demands through gritted teeth. Veronica’s eyes narrow.

“I was going to say that we drink the same wine, but clearly that was part of your ridiculous ploy. Anyways, Niall is your best friend…”

“Please,” he only scoffs, “some best friend he is to flaunt you right in front of me.” He spits, giving no input on his wine drinking.

“It’s not like he knew you felt this way! And I’m sure if he did, he would flip his shit, you’re lucky that I don’t…” Veronica pauses with her chest heaving from all the exclamatory remarks which had resided between Jake’s apartment walls.

“Don’t what…”

“Niall…” she breathes out. Did he even get my text, she thinks? While she stood expecting Jake to lose his mind in her enigma of breathing Niall’s name, it only earns her more chuckles.

“I see what you’re doing, pulling this whole charade to try and act like you don’t love me for the sake of Niall’s feelings—”

“Love you?! Oh my god, have you lost your mind?”

“I’m only stating the obvious! Think of how perfect we’d be together, Vee. Our families would get along so well, date nights every night. I’d spoil you, I’d treat you the right way.”

“I don’t need to be spoiled to be treated right. Dating you would make me into a brat.” She speaks through clenched teeth and visibly sees Jake’s eyes darken before her. He takes a step forward, continuing his mindless persuasions.

“We could run away together, elope, and be away from all the media and press. Is that what it is? Are you scared about the attention?” He brings his hand up to delicately tuck a loose strand of her hair away, but Veronica traps his wrist like a fly and shoves it away from her in a harsh motion.

“There’s never gonna be a story to write.” He ignores her refutes and resumes his fantasy.

“Our children would be gorgeous because they’d look just like us.”

“Jake, stop…” She begs in a whisper, shaking her head in disdain at the man before her.

“Can’t you see it? You can, you can! That’s why you’re scared because you don’t know how to tell Niall. Well, if it makes you feel better, I’ll happily inform him of our engagement.” Jake is grinning wildly now, an entirely new level of insanity dances behind his eyes.

“Our wh—” The woman’s heart stops, and her body freezes like time was paused. She felt paralyzed on every part of her body but her lips. Jake’s sloppy mouth pressing against hers in a frenzy has painful contractions of nausea rolling like hills through her stomach, and her fourth finger nearly breaks when Jake tries forcing the ring onto it. It was a whole new mixture of being petrified and pitiful for the situation that had her practically living out of her body.

It seemed like she could only re-enter it at the worst possible time to bring her arms up and give Jake a shove back. The sound of his grunt from the brute force Veronica scraped up was simultaneous with the apartment door slamming shut. Both Jake and Veronica snap their heads at the sound.

Niall stood, dumbstruck look overcoming his features. His lips curve and jut to say a few words, but he was completely mute from the sight before him.

“I—I can’t believe you. Either of you, I can’t…what the fuck?” Niall murmurs, casting a hand through his locks which, from the looks of it, have been tugged excessively these last few hours.

“Ni, I can explain.”

“No need.” He mutters, eyes hardening as he focuses his pupils on the other man in the room. “This fucker already told me enough.” He points his chin out to motion to Jake, who still had a proud smirk planted on his lips.

“Niall, just listen—”

“Me, listen?” A bitter laugh escapes him. “No, no, I think you’ve done enough talking, roommate. Family friend, my ass.” Niall snaps. “When were you going to tell me, huh? Were you just doing it for shits and giggles? Toying with my feelings just to break my heart again?” He mocks, making Veronica’s eyebrows furrow.

“What?”

“If you liked him all along you should have just said so. There was no need to string me along just to get close to him. It seems like you two do just fine alone.” His hard stare scans the two people up and down, the judgment in his voice palpable.

“Ni—”

“Ya know what, Veronica? Maybe forgetting about you was a sign.” He states, hand meeting the cold knob to twist and open the door. “Makes me wish I never knew you t’ begin with.” He seethes, eyes flicking between the two of them before the sound of his front door slamming is heard once more. In only mere minutes, the pounding in Veronica’s head increased drastically. Her heart was pounding because of Niall, but not the way it used to be, not the way she wanted it to rattle inside of her or the situation she found the off-beat cadence to be appropriate.

Red overtook her face and vision. She turned to Jake whilst grinding her teeth in order to wall the sobs away in her throat. Those were for her pillow, later.

“You asshole!” She screeches, the loud slap she gave Jake not too long after reverberating in the vicinity. It stung longer than a normal slap would have, and that was when he observed the glinting diamond, still present on her finger. He wondered how long it would take Veronica to notice as he watched her figure vanishing from the vicinity with a hand over her mouth.

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fangirlingtodeath513 · 4 years

Text

In honor of Avatar: The Last Airbender coming to Netflix, have a Destiel AU :D

read here on ao3

The tribe is buzzing for weeks before the Avatar’s arrival. It’s been a long time since they’ve had an Avatar from the Fire Nation, and not since before the Hundred Years War. The death of the last Avatar from the Fire Nation had sent the world spiraling into war, and Dean’s tribe had been decimated. He’d watched his own mother die at the hands of a deranged fire bender, and his father had been killed years later by a warring tribe. He and Sam had grown up homeless, living off what they could find until they stumbled upon Bobby and Ellen’s tribe one day. They’d been welcomed in like family despite being nothing more than two lost boys.

Still, as he dons his green attire and washes his face (at Ellen’s insistence), he’s excited. He’s never met an Avatar. This new Avatar, Castiel, is the same age as Dean—twenty-four, give or take a few months depending on when Castiel’s birthday is—and this is his grand introduction to the world. He’ll prove to the world that he’s mastered all four elements at the end of the month but for now, he’s making the rounds through all the different tribes around the world. This week, he’s visiting the different Earth tribes. He’s already seen some of them and Dean’s heard good things from friends in farther villages—he’s kind, he’s gorgeous, his smile is to die for—but he’ll make those judgments for himself. Hell, maybe this guy will spectacularly fail his demonstration at the end of the month, who knows.

“Don’t forget your face,” Ellen says with a smile as she stands in the doorway of his room, radiating pride. He smiles softly and hods up his washcloth to prove that he’s already washed his face. “No,” she says, laughing and holding up the tub of ink that Dean’s only seen a few times in passing. “It’s tradition, you, Sam, and Bobby will all be wearing it. Jo too. The Avatar wants to honor his fellow benders.”

Dean inclines his head just barely, then tilts his up and closes his eyes so Ellen can carefully paint the ink along the waterlines of his eyes, as well as in intricate swirls across his forehead and cheekbones. A quick look in the mirror when she’s done confirms that it’s a good look on him if he does say so himself.

The main area of the village isn’t far from the home they live in with Bobby and Ellen. Sam practices his bending on the walk there, three rocks swirling in the air over his hand, his face pursed in a look of utter concentration. It’s kind of adorable, even on an adult like Sam.

“You ready to see him?” Charlie whispers, elbowing Dean in the side. Dean glances at her and grins.

“Hell yeah. Never seen a fire bender in real life, much less and Avatar. Should be pretty cool. I just hope he’s not an asshole.”

Charlie laughs. “I’ve only ever heard good things. Anna wrote me a letter and said he’s dreamy, although I don’t think that’ll matter much to me,” she says with a giggle, eyes sliding over to meet Jo’s.

Dean just rolls his eyes and follows Bobby and Ellen to the main street, lining up along the side. He can already hear the horns announcing the arrival of the Fire Nation, so he slips into his bender stance—feet shoulder-width apart, hands clasped behind his back, head bowed respectfully.

He doesn’t peek until he can tell by the noise from the crowd that the Avatar is close. He tilts his head up a fraction so he can see the Avatar. His breath catches in his throat. All those rumors weren’t wrong. Avatar Castiel is so attractive that Dean thinks he could combust on the spot from being so attracted to him. Fitting, Castiel in a natural-born fire bender.

He quickly redirects his gaze to the ground. He’s not overly eager to be seen as disrespectful to the new Avatar, no matter how attractive he is or how badly Dean wants to continue watching the fluid movement of his lithe body, so carefully draped in the colors of the four elements. He’ll get a chance to drink his fill of the Avatar later tonight when they host his welcoming feast.

Dean’s family is hosting the feast since Bobby and Ellen are the tribe’s elders. They leave the welcome ceremony early to prepare, although most of the preparations were completed that morning. Dean helps set the table and lavish it with traditional earth kingdom dishes, everything from the delicious, homey stew that Ellen insists on making the minute anyone gets sick to the delicious, homemade ice cream the nearby water tribe taught them how to make. It’s the perfect mix of Dean’s home and the royal-level food the Avatar must be expecting by now. Guy’s lived in a temple for nearly a decade, no doubt he’s only been given the best.

Castiel arrives without any fanfare, which is shocking in and of itself, but it’s the traditional earth bender robes he’s wearing that really throws Dean off. It’s just Dean’s family in attendance, but he’d expected the Avatar to wear some fancy Avatar robes, or at least Fire Nation robes.

“Avatar Castiel. Welcome to the Singer tribe, we’re so honored we could host you,” Ellen says, bowing respectfully as Castiel turns his gaze to her. If Dean’s not mistaken, the Avatar blushes.

“I appreciate the hospitality, ma’am. It’s nice to be outside of the Fire Nation for once.” He smiles wryly, bowing his head in return. “Your home is lovely and everything smells…” he pauses, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he drinks in the scents swirling around their home. “Amazing,” he finally finishes, grinning as he opens his eyes.

“Please, have a seat, Avatar. Indulge in whatever you’d like.”

Castiel smiles softly. “I appreciate the respect, but it isn’t necessary. After you, please. You are the tribe elders, after all.”

Bobby and Ellen both seem taken aback, but they take their seats, and only then does Castiel take his. Dean, Sam, Jo, and Charlie settle into their own seats, each of them finding themselves caught by the scrutinizing gaze of the Avatar.

“You three are benders?” Castiel asks, eyes flickering between Sam, Dean, and Jo. The latter nods, grinning widely.

“Born and bred,” Jo confirms, nudging Dean’s shoulder. “These two stumbled into the tribe, but I guess they’re pretty cool.”

One of the candles on the table flickers out as Castiel reaches for a piece of bread and Dean watches in awe as the Avatar effortlessly relights it with a flick of his fingers. It seems like it’s barely a passing thought in Castiel’s brain, the fire just flickering from his fingers like an extension of himself. He supposes that’s how it is, though. Castiel was born with the ability to control fire, just like Dean was born to move earth.

“You seem out of your element,” Castiel continues with a small smile, eyes shifting to Charlie. The delicately drawn arrows swirling around her skin give away her bending ability and yeah, Castiel’s right. Charlie’s a long way from home, though she’s called this tribe her home for as long as Sam and Dean have been around.

“I was banished from my tribe when I was young. I had no interest in pursuing the study of air bending and they weren’t exactly pleased with that. The Singers took me in and taught me how to bend on my own terms.” She smiles, shooting a grateful glance across the table at Bobby and Ellen. “They’re good people.”

Castiel chuckles. “You seem to accumulate strays, I see. It’s noble of you.”

Their dinner passes in a mix of comfortable silence as they all eat and surface-level conversation regarding Castiel’s demonstration at the end of the month and what goes on from day to day in their tribe. Dean steals as many glances as he can because let’s face it, Castiel is gorgeous and he really doubts he’ll get to see the Avatar again, at least not up close like this. Might as well drink his fill now.

Except, once dinner is cleaned up and Ellen and Bobby have retired for the night after showing Castiel his quarters for the evening, Dean finds himself outside, alone with the Avatar. Castiel swirls a ball of fire in his hand absentmindedly, though he extinguishes it immediately when he notices Dean’s wary glances.

“Fire makes you uncomfortable.”

It isn’t a question, so Dean doesn’t answer. He’s not exactly inclined to spill his entire life story to this random man anyway, even if he is the Avatar. He hears Castiel huff a laugh beside him, and then the small rock pile in the corner of the yard is shaking, three rocks floating directly toward them. Dean catches them effortlessly, twirling his fingers to make the rocks spin in a circle above his palm.

“I wish earth bending was that easy for me,” Castiel admits with a sigh, leaning against the wall that surrounds Dean’s home. “It’s always been the hardest to bend, in my experience.”

Dean snorts. “Can’t exactly help you with that, Avatar. I only know how to bend earth, I’ve never known anything else.”

Castiel smiles. “It’s easier than you think, you know. Here, let me show you. Bending air isn’t dissimilar to bending earth.” He steps closer to Dean and holds out a hand. Dean watches him warily for a moment before extending his own hand in return. The Avatar is the only one that’s supposed to master all four elements, but Dean can’t help the thrill that runs through him at the prospect of learning to bend another element. He’s not even sure if it’s possible.

“You have a unique connection to the spirit world,” Castiel says, seemingly answering his question without Dean having asked it. “Has no one told you?”

Dean raises an eyebrow, skin tingling as Castiel finally takes his hand. “Told me what?”

Castiel hums. “In a previous life, you were an Avatar. An Avatar from the Air Temples.” He smiles softly, tilting his head. “Avatars are often reborn into tribes they struggled to master. Since you were an air bender, earth would have been the most difficult for you. I was a water bender in my previous life, hence my being a fire bender in this one.”

Dean scoffs. “I was an Avatar? That’s cute, Cas, but I don’t think it’s true.”

Castiel’s fingers skate along Dean’s palm. “I can show you, if you’d like.”

Dean hesitates, only for a moment, but what if… what if Castiel is right? His parents had died when he was young, and all of his other family had already died by that time. Anyone who would have known wouldn’t have been able to tell him. Is Castiel right?

“Show me.”

Castiel obliges, raising a hand to rest his fingers on Dean’s temple.

The effect is instantaneous. Dean is standing it what looks to be the distant past, watching the Avatar’s demonstration. She doesn’t look familiar, at least not at the moment, so he takes a seat and watches. Her form is shockingly good, although he’d expect nothing less from the Avatar. It’s not until he sees her eyes that he realizes who this is. He’s seen those eyes in the mirror every day of his entire life. This is him. It’s a little shocking to realize that he was a woman in another life, but watching her bend all four elements so effortlessly is astounding.

He’s pulled from the vision before he wants to be, but Castiel is standing in front of him with a small smile. “See? I wasn’t lying. I’m sorry your family never told you.”

Dean shrugs. “Not like they had the chance. Why are we both alive at the same time, then?”

Castiel hums. “We always have been, actually. When I was in the spirit world, they told me that you and I have always been alive at the same time, and we’ve both mastered the elements in the same lifetime. It was just a matter of whoever was found first became the Avatar. This time, it was me.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Then I can learn all four elements? Isn’t that… I don’t know, frowned upon?”

Castiel laughs. “Probably, yes, but I’ll teach you.” He smirks over at Dean. “What are they going to do, arrest me?”

Dean snorts. The Avatar actually has a sense of humor, go figure. “I suppose not. Don’t you have to leave, though?”

He shrugs. “I’ll come back if you’d like. I do need to continue my visits and complete my demonstration at the end of the month, but after that, I still haven’t found a place to stay permanently. This feels like as good a place as any.”

Dean hums thoughtfully. “I figured you’d return to the Fire Nation.”

Castiel waves that away almost instantly, face twisting with disgust. “Absolutely not. I hate it there. They kept me locked in a temple for a decade mastering the four elements instead of letting me visit the tribes that actually mastered them. They just brought me teachers that reinforced their belief that the Fire Nation is superior and I’m protecting the world only because the spirits have asked me to.”

“That sounds awful.”

“Perhaps,” he admits with a shrug. “Once I’ve completed my demonstration, I won’t have to return. I’m sure they’ll be surprised if I settle down outside of the Fire Nation, but I don’t exactly care.”

Dean smiles. “I’ll double-check with Ellen and Bobby but I doubt they’ll mind if you stay here. They might put you to work in the fields, though,” Dean says with a laugh.

Castiel smiles. “I look forward to it.”

Three weeks later, Castiel returns to Dean’s tribe and makes it his permanent home.

#profoundnet #deancasfanficnet #writersofdestiel #destiel #destiel fanfic #a: tla #my writing

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nomolosk · 4 years

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Snapshots (AU Yeah August 2020)

read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25655623/chapters/62576269

Day 7- Royalty

Prince Adrien walked down the main street of the marketplace, perusing the wares. It was one of the King’s orders that he go and observe the populace on a regular basis, to be the Face of the Crown, as it were. So here he was, wandering among the common folk, though with a regrettable bevy of courtiers as a shield.

He would much rather have donned his disguise as Chat Noir, that infamous mischievous cat, and drawn attention that way. As Prince he could not joke and laugh with anyone, especially not that pretty maid tending a cloth-merchant’s stall. Some simple shirts were on display, although there was also a very nice embroidered tunic laced onto a dummy.

Having caught his eye, Adrien decided to make that his excuse to go over and attempt a conversation. But as he drew nearer he realized that self-same pretty maid might have a grudge against him. He had inadvertently caused her trouble the previous night, when there had been a mistake made on who had rights to occupy a certain room in an Inn. Naturally, given his status, the Landlord’s wife had deemed his claim superior and had thrown the maid out, though she had paid for the room in good coin.

Prince Adrien really had tried to make amends, but the girl had been- he felt- rightfully incensed. As he approached her stall now, he cursed the presence of his courtiers doubly, for he could not make an apology for the inconvenience in public like this without listening ears turning the affair into something it really was not. She clearly recognized him, though the anger on her face turned to mortification as she took in his rich raiment, and the crest embroidered on his left shoulder. He had been wearing traveling clothes the other evening, and so she probably mistook him for a rich merchant or some such.

The maid fell into a deep, surprisingly graceful curtsey as he came within polite speaking distance, and his mental estimation of her class rose a few notches. This was not some simple maiden, but probably the daughter of a well-to-do middle class man. She’d had some education, at any rate. He felt worse, thinking he’d deprived a truly innocent maid of a respectable lodging the night before.

Well, perhaps he could start to make amends by ordering some new uniform tunics for the members of his personal household staff. The tunic on display was made of sturdy cloth, though not particularly fine. He would have to order a better quality, but that, too, would raise the prestige of the establishment she worked for, and the embroidery was really very well done. He knew some court ladies who could not do better, and most did much worse and called it elegant.

“This tunic,” Prince Adrien said, “Is it typical of the quality of work you produce?”

The maid nodded slowly. “Yes, your highness. Papa sells the cloth, but I do the sewing and embroidery.” Her face flushed again. “The cloth I have here is not as fine as what we can get, my lord. We have a f-family connection that provides us with silk and fine linen at very reasonable cost.”

Prince Adrien’s eyebrows rose, and he noticed the slight stutter on the words ‘family connection.’ He took in her rather unusual features- the shape of her eyes was particularly telling, though her coloring was common enough, with black hair, blue eyes, and a rosy complexion.

“Thank you,” he replied politely, passing over her probable parentage. He himself had no objection to mixed marriages, though there were very vehement voices in the court which called them unnatural, and the offspring thereof worse than cursed. He himself refused to entertain such notions. “What colors can you get? I am thinking of new tunics for my personal household, separate from that of the King.”

Still blushing, the maid brought forth a rather ingenious little book, in which there were pieces of cloth cut into squares. The book itself was made of thick canvas, and on each ‘page’ were a rainbow of colors. Each square of cloth was stitched to the page along the top edge, leaving the bottom and sides free to overlap with other squares beneath it. He quickly caught on to the rules of the book- each page had one type of fabric, and all the colors they could procure for that type.

Adrien found himself genuinely smiling. “This is ingenious! Look, Bourgeois, here are all one kind of fabric and you may even feel the texture and examine the color if you wish. Remarkable! I have not seen the like before.”

“It’s not all that remarkable,” the maid murmured under her breath, clearly thinking he could not hear her, since she left off the honorific. The Prince’s grin widened. There were so few people willing to be cheeky in his presence...

“Very well. Here are my house colors,” he said, pointing to squares of blue and ivory in fine linen. “I should wish to order six tunics of fine linen, various sizes, in cloth of blue, with my personal crest in ivory on the left breast.”

“I- I shall need to take measurements, your highness,” the maid said. She still blushed, but did her best to stand tall and speak clearly. He liked that about her. And if her work proved to be as exceptional as he thought it would be, perhaps he might engage her as his personal seamstress. There was something about her… a resemblance he was hard put to it to name. But now was not the time for dallying, and he did not wish to call further attention to her and cause unwelcome speculation. Perhaps the elusive and mysterious Coccinelle could help him navigate her hire without causing gossip the next time they ran into each other on their nightly excursions.

“Of course. Give your name to Captain Raincomprix here, and he will let the gate-guards know to pass you through. Come tomorrow, if you will.”

She curtsied very deeply, and he nodded in acknowledgment before turning away, knowing that Raincomprix would get all the information he required. His attention was caught by another woman staring at the scene before her with a strange kind of intensity. Her hair was coiffed, and she wore the clothes of a respectable matron, but her eyes were strange. He was sure he had never seen anyone with eyes of that color before.

He frowned at her, and instead of lowering her eyes and perhaps dropping a curtsey in apology, she smiled. A pulse of… something… suddenly emanated from her, passing silently over the marketplace and everything in it. Prince Adrien stiffened as it passed over him as well…

----

Adrien moved on from MDC’s booth, happy that he had been able to clear up any misunderstandings caused by the truly awful manager. He was interested in Miss Dupain-Cheng’s designs as well, and intended to bring them to his father’s attention. It was odd, though… it was almost like he should know her, but he couldn’t think of where he’d seen her before. Then it hit him- the cafe! She was the cute waitress from the cafe!

Adrien had nominally attached himself to Mayor Bourgeois' train, since they’d arrived at the same time. It made him stick out less. Yet, he abandoned that now, wheeling away and back toward her booth without a second thought.

Miss Dupain-Cheng looked startled at his quick return, but gave him a much more genuine smile than the one he’d first received.

“You’re that waitress!” Adrien blurted out. “You work at that cafe on --th Street, right? That’s where I’ve seen you before!” He grinned at her, delighted with finally being able to place where he knew her from, and completely forgetting that they’d had the most awkward encounter only the day before. Capped by him falling on top of her while she slept last night.

She flushed slightly, but stood her ground. “I do, yes.”

“But why? These designs are really good.”

“My work is mostly commission, and commissions can be… unreliable. I work part-time at the cafe to build up an emergency fund- not that it’s any of your business.”

Adrien nodded. “Ah, I see. Very smart! Well…” he grinned cheekily. “You had me convinced earlier, but this just clinches it… consider me a regular from now on!”

----

Neither of them noticed the woman at the wholesale herb and spice booth across the way, though she eyed them narrowly while she sniffed a vial of oregano. The woman was getting frustrated and impatient. She was an avid reader, who longed to truly experience some of the alternate universes she read about. Real life was so comparably dull… Hawkmoth had indulged her when she got frustrated once again at the banality of her life. But of course, she wasn’t here just to play around. Her task was to change reality to see who would always be drawn together. She could feel the magnetism between these two, yet they acted like they had no notion of anything relating to fighting akumas, or superhero identities.

She shook her head and moved on. Paris was a big city, and she felt pulls from others as well. All things being equal, the attraction these two created wasn’t any bigger or stronger than anyone else’s. And surely Ladybug and Chat Noir would have the strongest pull of them all.

@auyeahaugust

#mlauyeahaugust #auyeah2020 #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #royalty #royalty au

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inappropriatefangirlneeds · 4 years

Text

Gotham s5ep11 “They Did What?” Personal Review & Rambling

I DID IT .... I WATCHED THE GOTHAM FINALE

“We need to make it a bomb again.” Absolutely no warning cause that’s all no spoiler anymore for a long time

So I´m not sure if it´s good thing I´m watching this ages late, partly I guess I could be more emotional, partly not. It´s sweet to see how everyone and their aunt is teaming up for the city. “Well, this is gonna make one hell of a bedtime story some day.” With Nyssa al Ghul holding the baby I briefly totally forgot the plot and wondered where did that child come from again? And my brain went back to the (godawful) “Ra´s present for Barbara is a child” theory, and then I remembered oh no it was Jim ..and I was like .. eh, magic baby would have been the better plot. So that´s how we started this but at least Jim and Barbara were quite sweet, even with the child (I usually just cringe and crumble in sheer terror of what kind of responsibility a child is whenever one of those appears but they made it sweet) BARBARA KEAN & JIM GORDON were such a great team! Also Barbara just looks so damn fine, they really did good with that. And just bless the FIGHT CHOREOGRAPHERS of the Show , handcuffed Barbara taking out the guy with her legs > Jim later handcuffing Nyssa to keep her close to not get shot at < Good Stuff! * ~ 24:05 even up to the Steps of SELINA KYLE , Just the way she walked before fighting Bane was such a neat detail ”My father made his name destroying empires.” NYSSA AL GHUL I guess with more time she´s got potential but rushed like that her character is just boring.

“Can we really be so cavalier about the destruction of Gotham?” Oh OSWALD COBBLEPOT that´s part of why I fell in love with you. So he and EDWARD NYGMA go over the whole “listening to your heart never did you any good Oswald” spiel, and “I´ll miss you”, or “not so much”, Ed kind of is saying “don´t go” , but just not quite, the usual, you know, I can´t bring myself to care much but damn do I like watching their pretty selves talk through it. * Edward later follows Oswald, claiming it´s about the city, says the submarine can only operated by two people, and actual people, dog didn´t work. The usual. * Holy Shit, JIM GORDON ´s so gorgeous. It´s not like I had forgotten how pretty he is but damn that episode hit me hard again with Jim feels. Him over that map, going through their strategy. Daaaamn daaaaaaaaamn. * JIM GORDON & OSWALD COBBLEPOT in something that might as well be just fanfiction: “Oswald, come in.” / “Still have those eyes in the back of your head, Jim.” / “No. You just have a remarkably recognizable odor. Part dandy, part snake. After all these years, it hasn't changed. Drink?” / “No, thank you. Dulls the senses.” / “That's what I was going for. Surprised you're still here. Figured you'd be long gone by now. That storm you've warned me about for so long, it's finally here.” / “Sure, I could escape... with money, I might add... but then what? Stand on the shores of the mainland and watch the army burn it to the ground? Then watch tasteless industrialists and vapid politicians rebuild it? No. My life is etched on the walls of every alley and dirty warehouse here. My blood lives in its broken concrete. I'm staying to fight. For my legacy.” * LESLIE THOMPKINS caring about the people of the Narrows was great, I don´t know, if I like that she “abandoned” them in order to stand next to Jim but I can let it pass because of the way she did: She respected and trusted BARBARA KEAN to get them out. I can accept a plot that doesn´t pit those two women against each other (anymore). It was equally great that Lee just told Jim to “yes, go to your child”, and not to forget the scene where Barbara is thanking Lee for what she did, and “Barbara Lee Gordon” * Lucius is full on providing gadgets for Bruce, including that Bat Beacon that slowed down Bane. Nice but eh. Also they rehash Jeremiah´s plan to turn the city in a labyrinth to slow down the army. “We need to make it a bomb again.” Battery goes Bomb again, but eh, kind of fell flat for me

* HARVEY BULLOCK pointing out they are fighting SOLDIERS that are just following orders was a good touch. And it makes sense that JIM could brush that aside, he knows what they signed up for. That´s what you do, that´s what you accept. * Also I can stan a good story that rejects and is a slap in the face of the "NUREMBERG DEFENSE" so props to that! Just the execution fell so remarkably flat for me. I felt nothing then the people came back with Barbara, nothing when the soldiers pointed their guns at Bane. BRUCE WAYNE & SELINA KYLE Just Selina checking in with a “Bruce?” to make sure he actually wants to do that bomb thing was so precious. Also her recognizing that he is and accepting his choice. [Rant Below] Them later sitting on the stairs and talking was sweet too, except for what they talked about. SELINA KYLE MRs. & MR WAYNE So apparently they paralleled those in this episode 1. Selina´s shadow is just right under the painting of Mrs & Mr Wayne and Bruce just plants the bomb right in the middle of her shadow ~19:40) 2. Selina telling Bruce on the stairs she will be there whenever he needs her and Bruce replying that this is what his parents used to tell him. Which is a good setup for the kind of conclusion Bruce draws out of all of this but also I´m gonna rant about it below but first: 3. Bruce says his parents would have and did sacrifice everything for the city. He´s making the same choice but apparently can´t see that Selina has as much a choice to do so as he and Mrs & Mr Wayne have . So in the end I´m getting overly emotional, angry, hurt, let down to be precise: How dare BRUCE WAYNE leave SELINA KYLE behind like this?! Given the backstory that´s bound to be so much more painful than whatever Jeremiah or Bane ever could do. Selina has been through this after Jeremiah and she made a choice. She stayed, she thought and she was (not that that matters but let´s not forget it) damn good at it. I know Bruce thinks he´s making a “sacrifice” but how dare he take away this choice from her. How dare he hurt her like that.

* Most importantly though ALFRED PENNYWORTH in that COAT at the end looked so damn dashing. I´m in love. But I don´t like that they made a point of benching his character like that. He added plenty to the fight, he´s been in hospital before, he can add still contribute like he always did. Don´t let it end like this. Yeah I do need at least three seasons to magically happen before the 5th. OSWALY COBBLEPOT & EDWARD NYGMA Round #2 * Edward apologizes for freezing because of the grenade, Oswald understands. Edward gags when seeing Oswald´s hurt eye but claims it is just a scratch. * Back in a remarkable awesome looking place they lick their wounds: > Oswald feels not appreciated he wants “credit for our loyalty, our selfless bravery?” aka Love. > Edward however feels better than everyone else. He used to be “Shy awkward, pathetic Ed”. Not anymore. He´s better! “I don't want their thanks. Or their respect. You know what I felt, standing shoulder to shoulder with those people out there? Nothing. I... feel... absolutely nothing for those drab... boring people.” Never again. I've shown this city who I truly am once before, and I will do it again. They will bow to the Riddler, and they won't get up until I permit them to.” >> The notion of the “Thankless Job” is there too with Ed but Ed get his kicks out of separating himself from the people, he´s different and above them he doesn´t care about their opinion and has no real stakes in their well being. Oswald however obviously still want´s the recognition of said people, and he wants the good and nice kind, so it´s important that they aren´t miserable. However “Yes. You're right. Our accomplishments have been erased, our brilliant minds underrated. If they had let me run this city the way I wanted to, it would not be in ruins now. I had the men, the money, - the guns... “ 1. Oswald falls in line with Ed´s reasoning, appeals to his brilliance spleen but tweaks it for his need. Edward says he has to rule and they have to bow to him. Os says Ed is right, follows in line with Ed in reassuming a strife for leadership but adds his twist that this is necessary not so much because he (just as Ed thinks he is) is superior but because his leadership is “good” for the people. He´ll do good for them so they´ll like him. >>> Oswald wants to rule to not have the city in ruins and get praised for that >>> Edward wants to rule because he´s better and deserves so regardless of other imbeciles thoughts or needs. 2. Divide et Imperare Edward is quick to make sure to point a finger to an enemy and separate Oswald from Jim “Gordon took them.” Oswald just might as well try to go back to old methods and try build alliances with Jim and the law again, Edward recently saw Oswald and Jim kind of teaming up again and he just can´t have that. Just like Mr. Penn was in the way. Jim is a threat. One to be undermined at all costs: “Gordon took them. Why? Because he still sees you as Fish Mooney's umbrella boy, and he always will.”

3. One Ring to bind them. Edward starts with a selfish reason but is quick to put Oswald back into the plan. First there´s “I” suddenly he talks about a “We”: “I only came back to help him save this city so that I could take it for myself. We would be stronger together. No one could stop us.” 4. Do they believe each other?! Apparently they don´t because the both go in the hug with a drawn knife but are relieved when they don´t feel one in their own back. Which was really nice and fitting imagery. I can live with that “conclusion” but I have so much open questions. I really got to look for post that worked through all of this. > Oswald obviously must be weary of Edward because (I just have to believe) that he sees through the manipulating words of Edward. (as listed above) [[[ Especially the scene with Jim: They had a rather respectful, familiar interaction. I can´t quite believe that he follows Edward´s claim that JIM only thinks of him as that umbrella boy. I do think Oswald gets that Jim takes him serious, just well considers all his crime stuff to be wrong, and that´s quite a different thing than what Ed claims.]]] > What is Edward´s angle there? Yeah he might not have been able to operate the submarine alone but granted his speech it sounded like he would think that he is capable of taking the city for and by himself. Why is he appealing to Oswald to form a “we”? Just to get him in the hug situation and test him, asses a possible future threat to his claims? The only other proper motivation for that would be …. he likes Oswald. 5. “Brothers” Hahahah * Okay, but Oswald´s face when Edward and his mirror self do their thing …Damn …. * 8:26 Are the “Captain Jim Gordon” letters on his door window colour ??! * Jankey Piss Whiskey, what is Jim drinking? * Oh no, not the General

#gotham #gotham meta #mine Gotham full episode reviews #nygmobblepot #gotham s5ep11 They Did What?#bruce wayne

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yellowroseanddreamstorm · 4 years

Photo

Prologue: The World We Know

It was the year 1947 when the first contact ever between aliens and humans was ever made. A freak accident as many say but it was one that brought good things to the planet.

Knowledge, technology, resources and advancements to new heights in time no one had ever thought possible.

Earth became much bigger after that fateful day. The years to follow… what a time to be alive. New species coming in and out, technological booms every decade, nothing but good news.

Good news… Two words we rarely hear next to each other these days.

While Earth becoming part of the Intergalactic Union brought many good things to the planet, it sadly also brought in bad things as well. Especially in recent years.

In particular… the attention of the power hungry Ecliptic Claw. A group of rogue aliens who want nothing more than to expand their power, territory and show their dominance. We thought we could take them when they came. We thought it would be easy. That they would stand no chance against the forces we had on Earth. Sadly, it took no more than a month before they declared victory over the planet.

And that's how it's been for the past two decades.

There are those of us who still fight back but we have yet to find success. We'll still keep fighting though to our very last breath

For as long as the spirit and courage to fight back lives on, so does our hope.

The hope that one day, our home will be ours once more.

oooooo

Chapter 1: The Man in the Lion Mask

“Get back to work!”

“Any slackers will be punished severely by Ecliptic Claw Law!”

The young worker flinched as they heard the crack of a whip in the air. It was mainly for show. Everyone knew that. On occasion it might hit someone but for the most part, it was just to create noise to scare people. The real punishment came from the blasters the guards carried with them on their holsters.

After all… Ecliptic Claw Law states that those who dare defy orders will pay in pain that would make one beg for death… or… in the case of more serious defiances, immediate death.

The worker shuddered, getting back to their chores. This was all they had ever known. Work, fear and just trying to survive to the next day. How they missed the days of living in one of the cities. Sure, it wasn’t exactly much better with having to be very careful with how one acted or said in public under the grip of the Ecliptic Claw but it was better than being worked to the bone like they were now.

But when one falls into poverty, what choice does one have?

They sighed, picking up a sack of metal and making their way for the refinery at the center of the work camp.

There was always work to be done for the Ecliptic Claw. Work that they didn’t like getting their hands dirty with. Work they found very suitable to be done by captives on the planets they dominated.

For those of Earth, there were five main jobs.

The most desirable was being a servant in the court of Kedaaron, the leader of the forces of the Ecliptic Claw on Earth. He was a fierce leader, such as to be expected of someone of the Pantherian race. He was not one to be challenged, along with his commanders. Being a servant to him meant undying loyalty no matter the cost but one could live in comfort and have some form of protection from his army.

The other four jobs were not so desirable. These jobs being the following:

A scavenger, a construction worker, an energy worker or… the worst of them all, a snitch.

Some didn’t care if they were a snitch but many did. It was a traitorous job. Willing to turn others over for the sake of being able to live another day. To have food and some shelter. The Ecliptic Claw was good at sniffing out rebellion on their own but having other resources for finding out information that would slip through the cracks was something that they valued enough to have workers for those who were not of their kind.

And yet, rebellion is still something that threatens them. Whether they want to admit it or not.

The worker dumped the metal onto the conveyor belt, watching it move down towards the forge till they saw it engulfed by the molten flames of the furnace. They looked upwards towards the sky… or what one would assume was the sky if they didn’t know better.

It was just a simulation of one, created by a dome that encapsulated the work camps and the city nearby. It was a dreary colored “sky” full of clouds and plenty different hues of grey and black. No one was really sure what the outside world looked like anymore. Many feared it would look the same as it did in the domes. It was frightening to think about sometimes.

The only people who knew what was outside the many domed cities and work camps, were those who had chosen to fight back. Least, that’s what rumors had told.

A group of fighters who had supposedly taken back one of the cities and declared war with Kedaaron known as The Dawn. Not many believed it but some did… especially when they heard the story of a warrior who helped give The Dawn their footing to start their rebellion properly.

A warrior who wore a helmet that resembled the head of a lion.

A warrior whose fighting style was like that of Pantherians yet he wasn’t even one himself.

A warrior, who had struck down one of Kedaaron’s best generals in combat to make a statement to all who were watching.

The one who called himself Leonideas.

What an inspiring thing to hear… yet hard to believe for those still stuck in dreary states of mind. For many, it was mainly something to give them hope and push forward. To hope one day that they would be set free by this legendary warrior and The Dawn. Others, they would rather not think about such things. If there really was a rebellion and a warrior that could take out the Ecliptic Claw then why hadn’t they come here yet?

Something I ask everyday.

The worker made their way back to the field, beginning to gather up metal once more. Their mind went numb as they went on with their task. Just another day…

They were snapped out of their trance however as a huge explosion was heard from the entrance of the work camp. Alarms started blaring as soldiers ran about, orders from the commander being yelled over the intercom system.

The worker looked to the entrance, eyes widening at the sight of seeing it being slowly engulfed in flames. They ran closer to the entrance, trying to see exactly what was going on.

They could see dead guards lying about the entrance as humans and aliens of many kinds rushed past them into the camp, all dressed in armor that was white with violet and gold colored accents and armed with various weapons. From guns to energy charged sabers.

The worker kept out of sight, watching as the battle between the troops of the camp and the invaders unfolded. It was unlike anything they had ever seen before in their life.

Only something they had ever heard in stories.

“Necromas!”

The worker’s head snapped up towards the source of a booming voice. It had come from the top of the burning entrance of the work camp. All workers were looking towards it, in awe at what they beheld.

Perched on the highest spire of the entrance was a man, dressed in armor with purple glowing designs that was covered partially with a cloak and a helmet that resembled a lion’s head. He outstretched a hand, his laser generated claws glistening against the fire.

“Show thyself and face me in battle!” He shouted.

Other workers gathered around where the young worker was, all whispering to each other.

“Is that…?”

“Yeah…” the young worker whispered.

Leonideas.

oooooo

“Sir! The Dawn is breaching our defenses!”

Necromas growled at the chaos going on below the observation deck.

How did this even happen? Our security is as tight as they get!

“Ward them off! Their numbers are smaller than ours! Crush them!” He hissed.

“Yes Sir!”

Necromas’ tail bristled as he saw The Dawn’s troops make their way further into the camp. Some were injured and some were shot down but they just kept coming in, taking out more of his troops in the process.

“What are you idiots doing!?” Necromas shouted over the intercom system. “Stop them this instant!”

“We’re trying, Sir!” A soldier said over the communication system.

“Trying isn't good enough!” Necromas snarled. “Crush them now or Lord Kedaaron will not hesitate to crush us if we make it through this!”

“Necromas!”

Necromas’ head snapped up as he heard his name called out to him. He looked to the source, seeing it was coming from someone who was perched at the top of a spire at the burning entrance of a camp. Someone he had heard plenty of stories about from his fellow commanders. Someone who even Kedaaron considered a more viable threat than The Dawn.

“Show thyself and face me in battle!” They shouted.

“Sir, who is that?” a soldier on the observation deck asked.

Necromas narrowed his eyes.

“A thorn in Lord Kedaaron’s side.” Necromas clenched his fists. “Have the troops push back as hard as they can against The Dawn soldiers and keep them away from the entrance area of that camp.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Do as I say, soldier.” Necromas hissed.

The soldier gulped.

“Y-Yes Sir.”

Necromas left the observation deck without another word. He donned his laser generated claws as he descended down the structure to the entrance area of the camp. As he approached, the person who had been on the spire had already made their way down to the ground..

Their laser claws were drawn and ready, down in a battle ready stance. While their face was obscured with the mask they wore, Necromas could still see fire burning in the glowing eyes of the lion head.

He chuckled as he came closer.

“So… The legendary Leonideas.” He started. “I’ve heard of you from my fellow commanders and Lord Kedaaron. The man who mocks our kind with the mask he wears yet shows utter respect when it comes to our fighting style and traditions.”

Leonideas scoffed a bit

“The mask isn’t a mockery, it’s a way to get your attention. After all,” he grinned, “It's a mask that resembles the king of the Pantherian race. Someone who has more dignity than any you of The Ecliptic Claw could ever dream of having.”

Necromas’ fur and tail bristled at this.

“Dignity? Tch, that foolish Pantherian who dares call himself king is nothing in comparison to our Lord Kedaaron. Something he will learn soon enough once we have enough power to overthrow him.”

Leonideas shook his head.

“That’s what I hear you all say yet you still haven’t gotten him. You all sound like you’re trying to make up for something. A bruised ego, perhaps?”

Necromas growled, readying his claws.

“I think we’ve talked long enough. Let’s settle this with our claws.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Leonideas readied himself. “Victor is the new ruler of the territory, as stated by Ecliptic Claw Law and by tradition of the Pantherians. Loser, will meet their fate by the claws of their opponent.”

“And it shall be honored… Now…” Necromas narrowed his eyes. “Let’s see what you got, Cub.”

Leonideas chuckled.

“Alright, you asked for it.”

The two charged each other, roars escaping both of them as they locked claws with each other. Glares were exchanged as they struggled before they broke off, jumping back and skidding a bit.

They began to circle, waiting for the right moment to strike. Necromas was bristling with rage while Leonideas kept his composure but had fire in the eyes of his lion mask.

The circling ceased as Leonideas charged forward, managing to tackle Necromas into a spire. Necromas hissed, clawing at the warrior’s back. Leonideas cried out, pulling back, slashing at Necromas’ chest in the process.

Necromas yowled before attempting to tackle Leonideas, missing him barely as he flipped away from him.

Leonideas panted but kept his stance strong, ignoring the burning complaints of his back.

“That all you got?” he asked, readying his claws once more.

“Oh, I have so much more.” Necromas hissed before charging him again.

The two swiped claws at each other, managing to knick the other here and there in various areas but no fatal blows. It was a spectacle to say the least.

Soldiers, workers and rebels alike were gathered around the battle, all watching with anticipation. The raid was completely forgotten, all that mattered was who the victor of this duel was going to be.

Leonideas threw Necromas off balance with a swipe of his claws, sending him to the ground with a hard kick to the chest. Necromas gasped as the wind was knocked out of him, the Pantherian skidding across the ground and coming to a rolling stop.

Leonideas didn’t give him a minute to recover as he pounced on him, keeping him pinned to the ground, his claws being held right at Necromas throat.

All the spectators around them were quiet, waiting for the final bow to be struck.

Necromas looked up at Leonideas with a glare, no sense of fear present in his features.

“What are you waiting for?” He rasped. “Do it.”

Leonideas kept his claws close to Necromas neck, moving his face in closer so he was right up in his.

“I would… if I completely honored the ways of the Ecliptic Claw. However, I honor the ways of Pantherias. And the way their duels work is the loser will face humiliation over death. The only time I ever honored your ways was with the death of Commander Kanova. And I will do the same when I duel with Kedaaron.”

Leonideas retracted his claws before grabbing Necromas by his head and slamming it into the ground, knocking him out instantly.

Leonideas removed Necromas’ laser generated claws, slicing them into pieces with his own before throwing them to the ground, looking to the spectators around him.

“This territory no longer belongs to Ecliptic Claw.” He started, circling around. “If any of you who were under Commander Necromas have any sense of dignity left in you, you will respect the duel that has been won here and surrender immediately or answer to my claws.” Leonideas looked to the workers and rebels. “As for those who were oppressed by Commander Necromoas, you are now free to take back this place that is rightfully your home alongside The Dawn. Treat it well and with respect.”

Leonideas went back to Necromas, picking the Pantherian up by his mane. With a quick swipe of his claw, the mane was shortened, the limp Pantherian falling to the ground with a loud thud. His soldiers either backed away and ran, being chased by Dawn members or bowed down, admitting defeat.

Leonideas let the hair of the mane in his hand be carried away by the wind before letting out a loud roar that rang through the air for all to hear.

It was complete silence all around as he departed from the camp.

As he disappeared from sight, Dawn members got to work helping workers and apprehending Necromas’ troops.

While all were focused, none of them could shake the chills of what they had just witnessed.

#leonideas: warrior of earth #xross altair #original writing #writeblr #writblr #indie writer #writing #preview chapter #story preview #science fiction #aileen rose #yellow rose productions

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f0xwrite · 4 years

Note

for the stricklake prompts - hot cocoa date downtown?

Barbara bundled herself against a heavy breeze coming in off the mountains, scarf flowing like a blue banner behind her steps. The morning radio had warned of a rare “Canadian Clipper” that was to drift from the Pacific into Arcadia Oaks, and as predicted, the temperature had dropped from balmy to bracing within the span of hours. Despite donning a coat, she found herself shivering against the sudden chill, closing her eyes until the blast ran its course. Walter, at first, had prompted that they stay indoors at their usual cafe, but the small space and crowded line dissuaded the notion. With barely over an hour before her shift, there had been no time to wait.

“I’ve another old haunt around the corner,” He’d suggested, green eyes glimmering like snow-frosted blades of grass. “They’re not so good at tea, but they’ve hot chocolate like you’ve never known. It’s just a shack, however. No seating.”

Trepidation loomed in his voice as he eyed her reddened nose and cheeks, but it had been a week wince they’d last seen each other, and she was going to be damned before she let the weather get in the way of their tea date.

“Lead the way,” she hooked an arm around his elbow, smiling when his chest puffed as they walked along the sidewalk.

Minutes later, the doctor watched his long legs stride away from the serving window, feet pointed in her direction as he rolled his steps to ensure that no liquid spilled over the edges of the two paper beverage cups he held aloft. Two matching blobs of whipped cream jiggled over the tops, trying earnestly to stay in place.

“So,” he sat down on the edge of the bench, gingerly handing her one of the cups. “Are you ready to try the finest cup of cocoa this side of the Atlantic.”

“Oh, c’mon,” she chortled, “It can’t be that good.

“I’m serious.” He admonished. “The Blackbird Cafe has been in business for some time, and they’ve perfected the art. They use powdered chocolate, not cocoa, and it makes a world of difference.” His voice lingered richly on his words, dipping just so. “You’ll notice the homemade marshmallow cream on top. “It’s an absolute delight.”

“Alright, well. If you’re wrong, you owe me a bubble bath later.”

The sudden thought of her nude form peeking out from beneath the waterline sent all manner of thrills.

“In that case, you’re going to hate it,” he amended.

An elbow to his rib-cage found him chortling alongside her, revelling in a moment that was so very far removed from his other life—his true life.

“Okay, okay.” She said, trying to suppress giggles as her lips journeyed towards the rim.

“Do take care.” Walter warned from her periphery. “It’s quite hot.”

“You or the cocoa?

“Hmm?” he intoned, half-distracted with his own cup before he caught the coyness in her eyes.

She made a sizzling “Tcssssh ” sound as she pressed a finger to his forearm.

“That was awful, Barbara”

“Woo,” she sucked her finger, feigning pain, “I might have to check into the burn unit when I get to work.”

“You’ll have to have a proper sizzle, first.”

“Oh, will I?” She raised a brow, to which he laughed.

Revenge came with the glint in his eyes, and the tilt of a challenging smirk.

She merely sipped her chocolate, tongue darting out to catch any lingering cream. “Mmmmmm,” she intoned, voice lingering richly on the note, to which he nearly dropped his cup. When their eyes met again, his pupils were blown.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, attempting nonchalance, “how does it rate?”

“Barring any sentimental attachment I have towards Jim’s recipe? Pretty darn good. It’s not tooth-achingly sweet, and the marshmallowis amazing. We’ve always used the store bought puffs.”

“Those have their place. You can’t exactly roast this off of a bonfire.” He sipped his cocoa, and then smiled down at her. “Do you know I once ate an entire bag?”

“No way, Mr. Fancy-pants.” She shook her head, leaning her shoulder against his. “Next you’re going to tell me you eat frosted cereal.”

It was all sport.” he carried on, “part of a pep rally. What they didn’t know was that I was part t-” Confound it! “Uh—troglodyte.”

She raised a brow, “Err, well I bet Jim would have laughed his socks off at that one.”

“He did. It was during his first year. I believe I gained his respect that day.”

With the words, his face went sour, memories surfacing of that troubled creature near the edge of his classroom, scrawny and unnaturally kind. Those days, he’s wanted so badly to levy the child’s worries, and had even taken a proactive role in filling the gaps a deadbeat father had left. Now, in the end, Atlas only carried more weight.

“Hey,” her voice cut through him. A small hand found his shoulder. “We’ll get there again, okay?”

Finding the hand, he brought it to his lips.

“Let’s hope, love.”

A strand of silence found them smiling at each other. She sat back and nursed her drink.

“This is definitely taking the edge off the chill,” she said, just as the frigid fingers of a draft swept by. She curled into herself, trying with one hand to tug length out of a scarf that had already reached its maximum amount of wraps while balancing her cup with the other. ”Okay, I spoke too soon,” a hand shoved itself into her armpit. “How is it you’re only wearing one jacket?”

“A cold heart doesn’t require much heat.”

“Walt, seriously,” she narrowed her gaze, the doctor shining through. “You’re going to freeze.”

He pecked her on the cheek. “You’ve been in California too long, darling.”

“Walter” Her pout sparked laughter, and he suppressed the urge to kiss the wrinkles it made around her nose.

“Here,” he spread one side of his jacket open, wrapping both it and his arm around her. The proof was in the pudding. “You’ll find that I am plenty warm.”

“What are you, part furnace?” Her arm came around his waist, sending shivers up his spine. They amused themselves with watching the passers-by, as well as a stray blackbird that seemed intent on chirping at them from the ground.

“We must be near her nest.” Barbara yawned languidly from somewhere near his armpit when it wouldn’t be shooed away. It fluttered off for a moment, only to return to lay a berry at her feet. Two more rounds saw a stick and a feather joining the display, before it resumed its chirping.

“Strange,” Walter tried again to shoo the creature with his foot, reluctant to move from their cozy roost.

“I see where the cafe gets its name,” she said as her own foot joined his. “Go on, birdie,” Again, it flew off; this time not to return.

“All creatures listen to you.” His voice was low, speculative.

“Except teenagers.” The feeling of her forehead nuzzling against his chest sent sparks. Lazily, she sat up and downed the dredges of her cocoa. Then, grabbing his wrist, she checked his watch. “Ugh, I thought so.”

“Never enough time,” he admonished.

She puffed her cheeks in frustration, but then looked up at him, eyes alight with the spark of some thought.

“Hey,” she pointed to her upper lip, “You have some marshmallow.”

His tongue darted out to save the day. “Gone?”

“Not yet,” she bit her lip.

Next, his sleeve had a go. “What about now?”

Her red hair shook. “Here, let me.” Without warning she slid her mouth against his.

The changeling’s moan of surprise melted quickly into delight. A blast of air swept past, whipping her red locks out of their moorings to mix with his salt-and-pepper strands. It drew them closer, and he grasped her jaw to deepen the kiss.

Without checking her handiwork, she withdrew and smiled. “Got it.”

He huffed in exasperation, though his traitor mouth tugged upward. “Was there even anything there in the first place?”

“Was there?” She raised her brow coquettishly.

“What a rascal.”

“You like it.”

“I do.”

She laughed, bell-like, as he brushed his nose against hers. Settling in to steal another kiss.

Click, came a sound from somewhere close, click

“Ha!” came a sound from behind the bush, “That little butt-snack is gonna pass out when he sees this! Oh, yeah, Steve. Who’s the man?”

With the force of a provoked tiger, Walter spun around, eyes threatening to start wildfires as he scanned for the imp whose voice he recognized. Surely, the teen wasn’t this idiotic. Surely, there was homework to do. Surely, any number of activities sparked more interest than peeping on one’s principal. Surreptitiously, what was left of Walter’s cocoa found its way onto his pants. He squeaked.

“Oh!” the doctor shouted. “Oh! Are you burnt?”

As if the warm liquid trickling down his manhood wasn’t enough; enter Barbara dabbling at his trousers.

Walter rose with a yelp, dashing away from the hand before assumptions could be drawn, and then spun around to face his perpetrator with an unholy scowl. “Mr. Palchuck,” he crossed his arms, though it was difficult to look intimidating with splashes of cocoa on his trousers. “Are you spying on me?”

“Oh no, dude,” Steve failed to hide his snickering. “Uh, Sir, I mean, principal. I was totally not spying on you.”

“Then what are you doing?” His finger tapped against his elbow.

“Uh, duh. I was spying on Jim’s mom! Dude, he’s like, my arch-nemesis, and he’s such a mama’s-boy. What better way to get at him than by doing it through his mom?”Walter opened his mouth, closed it. Opened it again. Could he really scold this boy for committing the same crime. He shared a glance with Barbara before he shut his eyes to hide their glow. The Janus Order was different. There were lives at stake–his bretheren’s lives. This was simple adolescent bullying; an entirely different venue. Entirely, he thought, despondent.

“This is absolutely inappropriate and uncalled for!” He finally growled, pointing in emphasis. “After school tomorrow, detention. I’ll be stopping by for a little chat.”

“Hey, you can’t do that!” The boy whined, eyes desperate. “I’m not even at school!”

“Oh, yes I can.” The cold breeze running against his trousers did nothing to stave his annoyance. “Now hand me that phone.”

Steve tucked his phone behind his back. “But I didn’t do anything!”

“You took pictures of us. You’re bullying Jim! I think you’ve done quite a bit.”

“What do you care?” The boy sniffed indignantly. “Lake doesn’t like you anyways. In fact, as amazing as it sounds, I think he hates you even more than he hates me.” He jabbed a thumb into his own chest. “Which is, as I said, amazing. I saw it myself when we were in your office.”

“Again? Barbara blinked, taken aback, and then palmed her forehead. “Ugh.”

“The bodily function jokes, Barbara.” Walter clarified before protests mounted. “We discussed it.”

“Oh, right.” She said, shoulders unclenching.

“Phone.” Walter opened his palm to the boy, jaw clenching. “Now.”

The boy crossed his arms, turning to the side with a dramatic flair. “Make me, old man.”

“Hey!” Barbara shouted before Walter could boil over. “Okay, okay, calm down.” She placed a hand on each of their shoulders. “Steve, isn’t it?” Her blue gaze found the boy’s. “Yeah, sweetheart, come here for a second so we don’t violate any HIPPA laws.”

She led the teenager a few paces away; out of earshot by human standards. Walter, of course, wasn’t human. “Remember that time a couple of weeks ago,” he overheard her, “when you came into the clinic because you’d eaten too many beets and didn’t realize what it did to your poop. I let you out without writing up a chart, or billing anything, and we even agreed that your mom didn’t have to know about it because it wasn’t a concern.” “Now, I did you a big favor that night, and now I’m hoping you’ll do me a favor now by letting me delete those photos. Will you do that for me?”

His eyes darted to Strickler and back, then his shoulders sunk.

“Sure,” Steve handed her the phone.

All creatures Walter thought.

“Thank you,” she fiddled with the phone for a few moments before handing it back. “There, now I’m sure Walt-uh Principal Strickler will be glad to forget giving you detention tomorrow as long as you promise not to do it again.”

“Really?” he lit up.

She looked to Walter, who heaved a sigh. “Fine, but I expect you in my office before school starts tomorrow. We’re going to set up a meeting with your guidance counselor. I’ve a feeling I know why you’ve been acting out even more than usual.”

“Okay, Mr. Strickler.” Steve shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Try to stay out of my ER, okay, kid?”

“Yeah, no promises,” he grinned, and then strode away.

“Guidance counselor?” She asked as they both watched the teen disappear into the throng of buildings.

“Ah, well,” the changeling finally felt his muscles relaxing. “Jim isn’t the only one who’s been slighted a good father. Unfortunately, Mr. Palchuck is still dealing with his. He and Jim have more in common than they realize. Each sees traces of himself in the other, even if it is subconscious. Jim is sympathetic, while Steve resents.” He looked down at her, the corner of his lip tugging skywards. “I’m impressed, you know. You have such a way with others, and you handled that far better than I did.”

“Well, I had selfish motives,” she pulled out her phone before sitting on the bench. He followed.

Pulling up her photo gallery, she scrolled through the pictures. “I took a moment to send them to myself before destroying all the evidence.”

“Have you considered a career in espionage?”

“Nope,” she said, placing a kiss onto his neck before settling back against him, “I get enough excitement in the ER.” She continued to scroll. “These are cute. Ha! It must have caught the reflection in your eye in this one. You look possessed.”

Green eyes looked down to the yellow ones on the screen, and he cursed himself for his lack of control. What, precisely, did he intend to do if he ever slipped entirely? Protocol demanded that he take her life but that was…out of the question. Would he imprison her, threaten her, resort to blackmail, do any number of things he done to any number of innocents in the past.

Shifting to look at her, Walter noted the blue gaze full of weariness, that unassuming smile, this ragged creature whose existence demanded only that he commit the most heinous crime a changeling could commit.

He shifted uncomfortably.

“You okay?” her soft voice rose past a swallow.

“Yes,” his nose was running against the cold, and he wiped it crudely with his sleeve, dredging his mind for an excuse. “Wet trousers are dreadful things.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” She looped her scarf around his neck, pulling him closer. I know exactly how to treat those.”

“After work, then?” He squeezed her hip.

“Yeah,” her smile went lopsided, “but…here.” Gently, she grasped his jaw and guided it towards her own. “Just a small dose to get you through.”

“Tcssssh,” he hissed when their noses bumped together, delighting in her laugh. And as their tongues met, he forgot why he was ever disturbed.

***

Also read/comment here:

Hot Chocolate - FoxLight - Trollhunters - Daniel Kraus & Guillermo del Toro [Archive of Our Own]

#trollhunters #stricklake #Barbara Lake #Walter Strickler #Steve Palchuck #askbox #requests #tales of arcadia

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thefloatingstone · 5 years

Note

Would you please make me a list of your rcommended comics(books or web-series any genre original content or fanworks)

Oh that’s a god one! Thank you so very much 💙 Let me see what I have on my shelf and on my hard drive. (I don’t know if I’ve ever made a list of my favourite comics before or not here on tumblr?)

in no particular order;

1: Usagi Yojimbo by Stan Sakai

I dunno if it ever really shows or not, but Japanese historical settings are something I’m really into! I think it’s one of those dormant interests that flares up every now and then. Anyway. Usagi Yojimbo has basically been tied for my favourite comic for over 10 years now. It’s a series of stories, both short and with longer arcs, following the character of Miyamoto Usagi (roughly based on Miyamoto Musashi) travelling around the country of Japan in the early 1600s as a Ronin after the lord he served was defeated and killed in battle. Usagi, being one of his samurai, is not killed in the same battle which, considering his lord was killed, is a massive disgrace in historical Japanese culture. Basically along the thought of “If your lord died and you didn’t you must not have fought hard enough to protect him.”

Anyway, the comic is both a history lesson on Edo period Japan, a travel diary, a slice of life comic, a Chanbara, an action comic, some times even a horror or ghost story, a tragedy involving unfulfilled love and lost families, a lesson on traditional Japanese Yokai and other mythology, and now and then high fantasy.

10/10. HIGHLY recommend. The author Stan Sakai is also a wonderful person I’ve had the pleasure to meet a few times at Comic Con. And considering he like... remembers who I AM despite being an extremely famous comic artist... I dunno. I have endless respect for the man and he’s shown me great kindness in the past.

Also you know... black and white comics. They’re my jam, yo!

2: Bone by Jeff Smith

I have no idea if I even have to say anything because Bone might just, without hyperbole, be the greatest comic ever drawn.

At 1300+ pages drawn over the course of 10 years, the story starts out as a cartoon, full of hijinks and fun adventures and jokes and very slowly, reality starts setting in, things get more dangerous, the stakes get higher, the bad guys much darker. And by the time you reach book 3 of the 9 book story, you’re suddenly in a story of the “epic” variety. Not in the internet slang term but in the actual definition of the word.

You have massive wars between men and monsters, you have clashing cultures and ideologies, conflicting motivations and goals, and of course saving the world.

And it manages to do so without you EVER feeling “Excuse me but this was a cartoon book about funny jokes. This shift in tone is really weird and doesn’t work with the cartoony characters.”

It just blends and grows beautifully. And has remained as my favourite comic for... *counts* lord... 14 years now.

The book was recently released in a new colour version in case you prefer hat, but I honestly recommend “The Brick” single volume black and white version. It’s cheaper, first of all, but also I cannot express how masterful the blacks and whites of Bone are. They’re essentially Watterson level.

(also Jeff Smith is ANOTHER comic artist who is just like... the nicest person. Like REALLY nice. He’s been kind to me on occasions in that “you really didn’t have to be that nice” kind of way)

3: The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck by Don Rosa

It’s published by Disney officially... but the Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck is essentially a fancomic. The only reason its not is because Don Rosa became SO GOOD at making duck comics Disney hired him to make them officially and he was SO GOOD at it became one of the most important Duck artists just after Carl Barks (the creator of Scrooge) himself.

The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck is a comprehensive biography of Scrooge McDuck’s life, not just made up by Don Rosa, but pieced together from Carl Barks’ own comics where he would have Scrooge make passing mention to events in his past or people he met. Don Rosa essentially took all these passing remarks and mentions and drew out a timeline, starting with Scrooge age 13 leading all the way up to his reunion with his family when Donald as an adult met up with him again.

It starts with Scrooge, from a poor family in Glasgow in 1877, boarding a ship for America to seek his fortune. We follow him through the years as with each chapter, he comes close to being rich and successful, only for it to fail or fall apart at the last minute, until, eventually, we see him catch his break and become the obscenely rich and successful person he’s fought and worked and bled so hard to be.

...and then the comic continues. And we see him lose himself. Greed, the constant need for MORE money and MORE success keeps going. The need to show HOW rich and successful he is takes over, until we see him and his family fall apart. And the comic echoes Citizen Kane as Scrooge realises the best time of his life was when he was seeking riches, not after he finally succeeded.

And then Donald and his nephews appear, and Scrooge’s life gets a second wind. His lust for adventure flares up again, his need to seek fortunes and treasures burns as strong as ever. And he keeps going.

The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck is a story about looking for your place in the world and fighting to create it with your own two hands, but it’s also about how you should think hard where you place your value in life, and it’s never too late to re-direct course and try again.

There is also “The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck Companion” which is a collection of stories that didn’t fit in with the original comic and would have disrupted flow. Basically like how a fanfic will have oneshots related to a larger story

Also, the producer of the band “Nightwish” created a soundtrack to accompany the original comic as a sort of “What If” in what he imagined the story would sound like if it was made into a movie

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4: Cucumber Quest by Gigi D.G. ( @ggdgart )

A newer comic I stumbled upon which has skyrocketed into being a fave and I can already tell, that’s not a position it’s gonna relinquish. Cucumber Quest is a more cartoony and comedic story than the previous comics on this list. But that by no means makes it of any less value or dulls the moments that this comic decides to punch you in the gut with emotions HARD.

The art and colours are glorious and something I hope to study so I can better my own art hopefully, and the writing and humour is of a calibre that I just know I could not replicate it if I even tried. Full of puns, absurdism, awkward jokes and a whole lot of FEELINGS, It manages to make me both laugh myself into a coughing fit as often as it makes me yell “OH NOOOO!!!” when something dramatic happens.

The story follows our main character Cucumber, a put-upon out-of-his-depth wizard-to-be who is tasked with saving the world from the evil Nightmare Knight who has been summoned from his thousand year slumber by an evil sorcerer who wants to take over the world (as you do). With him is his little sister, the sword wielding Almond, who is WAY more into this “being a hero” thing than he is (and probably better at it too) as the duo make friends and travel to the various kingdoms to defeat the Nightmare Knight’s lackeys, working their way up to fighting the Nightmare Knight himself and sealing him away once more!

That all sounds.... really straightforward, doesn’t it? Well... that’s what everybody else in the comic thinks too. ...Shame that real life is never easy and straightforward.

From evil henchmen that start crushing on cool “Good Guys” with cool swords, good guys who don’t REALLY want to hurt the bad guys because they don’t seem so bad? To cool good guys with cool swords suddenly learning that being in danger is not as much fun as it sounded when they started this. To big evil final boss bad guys who are just tired of all of this...

What’s also awesome is the entire comic... all OVER 800 PAGES OF IT... is completely free to read online! But you can also buy physical copies of the first 4 volumes in book form to support the author!

http://cucumber.gigidigi.com/cq/page-1/

I HIGHLY recommend this one too! It has canon LGBT characters! It has found family plots! It has scary bad guys that just need a hug! It has magical girl transformations! Literally anything you could want is in this comic. Including emotional wrecking angst! Did I mention FEELINGS???

(I couldn’t pick a single page so here are 3 random ones without context. Seriously almost EVERY page is so good I struggled very hard to choose)

5: The Property of Hate by @modmad

Hey. Do you like fantasy worlds made of imagination? How about protagonists with grey morality who act like super primand proper gentlemen when they’re actually huge nerds? How about reluctant “Well I guess I’ve ADOPTED you now you annoying gremlin” adult-kid relationships? How about puns? How about abstract and colourfull character designs? Or saving the world?

The Property of Hate is Modmad’s original comic that they’ve been working on a few years now. it follows our lead character, RGB or “Problematic Mary Poppins” as I like to think of him, as he asks a young child if she’d like to be a hero and help him save his world? When she agrees, he takes her to a fantasy land... completely NOT preparing her for what she’s signed up for. The story then follows the duo through the abstract and shifting world as RGB slowly divulges information on what exactly our Hero has to do to save the world. It turns out it’s a lot more complicated and messy than merely “beat the bad guy” or anything like that.

Not to mention it seems this fantasy world has its own rules of reality and dangers. Emotions and abstract thoughts have real physical form here, and something like an “idea” can quite literally run around and create havoc, while something like dreams can fuel or destroy, and emotions like grief can cause irreparable damage.

Our Hero also learns RGB himself is a lot more complex and messy than he first appears. Seeming to be a good person trying to do good things (despite being a little stand offish and rude at times) but seems to also be carrying a past and the weight of having done some very very bad things “for the greater good”. And our Hero, as well as we, the readers, start wondering how much we should trust him, even though, just like our Hero, deep deep down we just know we WANT to trust him. And maybe he needs saving just as much as the world itself does. Even when he’s at his scariest and... not quite himself.

The Property of Hate is also available online completely for free. Modmad does have books for sale but I believe it’s on-demand or something along those lines. Please feel free to message them here on tumblr and they are happy to chat to their readers and interact.

http://thepropertyofhate.com/TPoH/The%20Hook/1

I think I’ll leave it there despite meaning to do 10 at first because this is already EXTREMELY long.

Hopefully you found something that seems interesting! Let me know if you decide to check any of these out and whether you ended up liking them or not! I’d love to hear your opinions.

And thank you for indulging me <3

(I’m trying to remember to add my ko-fi link to all longer posts like this I make. Especially since I keep forgetting ☕️Buy me a Ko-fi ☕️ )

#lucymelonbun #C-Puff answers #Long post #image heavy #Comics #comic recommendations #comic recs #I added a read more to this post but tumblr ate it so whatever #thank you for letting me ramble about stuff I like #I feel better <3

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imagine-loki · 5 years

Text

Wedded Bliss

TITLE: Wedded Bliss CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 44 AUTHOR: MaliceManaged ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Odin determined to find Loki a wife in a misguided, though somewhat well-intentioned attempt to ‘mellow him’. … RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS: I don’t wanna be that person, but it’d be nice to get a comment or two on this? Because I’m wondering if I should keep submitting this here or if y'all have lost interest. Which is fine! I know I don’t write stuff that’ll interest most people. I just wanna know, y'know?

______________________

Edith stood outside Loki’s room late that night, waiting for him to open the door, though with every passing moment she doubted more and more that he would. She knocked again and stood back, knowing she wouldn’t be able to sleep until they at least tried to deal with this. After a few minutes she sighed.

“Come on, Loki; is this really how you want to handle this?” When there was no response she huffed and threw her hands up. “Fine! Have it your way!” She turned and began walking away, grumbling half under her breath, “Just proves you really don’t respect me after all.”

Not a moment later, Loki pulled the door open and stepped out. “Do not be ridiculous; of course I respect you,” he snapped.

“Oh, look; he’s alive!” she said sarcastically, whirling around to face him. “And I’m ridiculous? You put me in a bubble! A literal bubble! All over one shooter. What, you trust me to fight aliens, but not one solitary sniper?”

“We had no way of knowing there were not more.”

“And if there had been; how the hell does leaving me out in the open like that make sense?”

“You were perfectly safe within that shield. I know what I am doing.”

“And yet, you keep missing the point here!”

“Oh? Enlighten me, then; what is ‘the point’?” he asked almost mockingly.

“The point is you left me!” she yelled, losing her patience at his tone, startling him. “You left me behind without a second thought. How is that respect?”

“I was trying to protect you!”

“I don’t need you to protect me; I need you to trust me!”

“I do trust you! Have I not proven that by now?”

“I don’t know, have you? Because it sure doesn’t look like that from my end!”

Loki tried to ignore how much that stung. He’d been trying so hard, and here she was, ignoring it. “Well, what do you want me to do, then? You complain about my actions, but you cannot be bothered to tell me what in Hel it is that you want?”

“I did! You’re not listening to me!”

“I have done nothing but listen to you!”

“Bullshit! You ran off and left me behind! Do you have any idea what it would have done to me if you’d run into a trap you couldn’t get out of and I couldn’t help you? We go. Together. Always! For a reason! How would you feel if I pulled something like that on you?” she asked, squaring her shoulders and eyeing him challengingly.

The argument died on his tongue the moment the words sunk in, and he deflated. He hadn’t thought about that. At all. And once that got through, he pondered her question. “… Betrayed,” he admitted quietly at length, “I would feel betrayed.” He walked up to her, hesitating before slowly placing his hands on her hips then moving closer when she didn’t pull away. “I’m sorry.”

She slid her hands up his chest and sighed, feeling very tired all of a sudden. “I’m… grateful that you were there, though; I don’t want you to think I’m not, just… There are lines.”

“No, you are… I will try to do better.”

“Thank you.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and tilted her face up to kiss his cheek. “I love you.”

“And I you.” He rested his forehead against hers for a moment, closing his eyes, then stepped back and took her hands in his. “I don’t suppose there is any way I can convince you to stay the night?” That got him a raised eyebrow. “To sleep, I swear.”

She eyed him suspiciously for a moment but allowed him to lead her into his room in the end, guessing (correctly) that he just wanted to be reassured she really was alright. He gave her a blanket of her own then they climbed into bed facing each other, and he turned the light off with a flick of his wrist.

“Are you very angry with me?” he asked quietly after a while.

“I’m not very pleased with you,” she replied. “Back with the bandits you said you wanted me to be respected as a fighter, and then you go and do that. That hurt.”

“You are right. You are exactly right,” he sighed, “I should have seen that, I just… I did not think. You were in danger and it blinded me to all else. Truth is, sometimes I still do not know with to do with you. It surprises me how much I have come to care in such a relatively short amount of time, but I care, and that makes me want to hold onto you, and that…” he huffed a humourless laugh, “Well, clearly I have not figured out yet how tightly is too tight.”

“Well, we definitely need to work on that, for both our sakes,” she frowned, “And don’t get me wrong; I know I need to work on how stubborn I am, too. We both have work to do there.” She turned onto her back and let out an amused huff. “That’s two assassination attempts in as many months; I’m a popular gal.”

He laughed despite himself. “That is one way to look at it, I suppose.”

“Oh, hey, I wonder if they’ve gotten anywhere in Asgard with those prisoners you sent,” she remembered suddenly.

“I suppose we will find out when we return,” he replied after a moment. He hadn’t really thought about that attack with everything that happened since, but now that she brought it up, his concerns began to resurface. “Unless of course something significant occurs that requires my involvement before that.”

“Makes sense.” She turned onto her side again and freed a hand from the covers, searching until she found his jaw, earning an amused huff before he took her hand and brought it to his lips to kiss her palm. “You okay about that?”

“Why would I not be?”

“Something about that attack bothered you. I’ve been waiting for you to bring it up yourself, but at this point I’m guessing you won’t.” He didn’t respond but she could feel his frown beneath her fingers. “You don’t have to tell me what it is if you don’t want to; I’m just asking if you’re okay.”

He considered for a long moment, torn between his instinct to keep things himself and the desire to be more open with her like he’d promised to try. “During the interrogation I conducted, the prisoner said… something odd. It left me with questions. I tried to investigate while we were home, but the answers I managed to find were… unsatisfactory, to say the least.”

“‘Unsatisfactory’ as in ‘they didn’t know’, or…?”

“I am being lied to,” he replied with a hint of anger.

“Well, there must be a reason,” she felt him inhale to retort and covered his mouth with her hand, “I’m not saying it’s a good one and you should let it go. I’m saying there has to be a reason, and figuring out what it is might help find the truth. I’m on your side, Loki. At least give me that much credit.”

He let out a somewhat self-conscious laugh. “Sorry, dýrr minn; habit.”

“You’re lucky I like you,” she huffed.

“Only ‘like’?”

“Don’t push your luck, mister.”

****

Three days before Frigga’s Nameday found Edith and Loki stuck in moderate traffic on their way to an event that Edith had drawn the short straw to attend, playing an asgardian board game that he’d conjured to float between them and she was losing miserably at.

She swore viciously as she lost again, to the amusement of their driver, and crossed her arms at her chest. “You’re cheating,” she accused petulantly.

“I am not; you are simply terrible at this,” he chuckled, “Though I must say, that pout is terribly endearing.”

“Fuck you,” she grumbled.

“Promises, promises.”

At that the driver couldn’t hold back a laugh, and she glared at him, trying to fight a smile until it peeked out despite her efforts. After that they switched to playing Battleship, which she had much better luck in. Some forty minutes later, traffic finally loosened enough for the driver to find an alternate route to their destination and Edith cheered, to their amusement.

When they arrived to the fundraiser, Loki exited the car first as Edith took a moment to don her public face then took his offered hand and climbed out, smiling at the cameras for a bit before heading inside the building proper. Loki stood back as she spoke with potential donors, frankly impressed with her skill at schmoozing. He’d known that she could be very charming when she wanted to be, of course, but convincing people to part with their money was another thing altogether. He garnered some attention himself, though he could certainly have done with fewer people flirting with him, particularly right in front of Edith.

Once the event wound to a close (successfully, Edith smugly informed Tony via text), Edith was leaning heavily on him while their driver brought the car around back, teasing him about the amount of people that had attempted to give him their number. “Lucky you I’m not the jealous type.”

“Yes; lucky me,” he deadpanned, then scoffed distastefully, “Those people are utterly shameless. Granted, the court is not much better, but they at least tend to keep their attempts out of your sight.”

“To be fair, some of them probably didn’t think we’re actually dating; we haven’t exactly been all that public about it.”

“We go out in public together all the time!”

“I go out with the guys all the time, too, and it’s pretty well known I’m not dating any of them. Since you’re not all that fond of PDA, it wouldn’t be much of a reach to assume it’s like that.”

“So, you are saying I should be more overt with my affection? That is ridiculous,” he scoffed.

“Wow, thanks.”

The car pulled up before them, and he opened the door for her before getting in behind her. She wasted no time removing her heels, sighing in relief. He glanced at the driver then threw up a silencing spell around them to keep their conversation private.

“I meant that it is none of their business. Such things are not necessary in Asgard for others to know of and respect another’s courtship.”

“This ain’t Asgard, Loki.”

“I am well aware of that.” That got a raised eyebrow and he crossed his arms at his chest. “What do you suggest, then?”

“Nothing you’d be too uncomfortable with. A picture or two of us together on my Instagram should be enough to get the point across. We make it known, and you don’t have to touch me in public; it’s a win-win.”

“I… I do not mind touching you in public,” he balked.

“Yes, that must be why we’ve never even held hands,” she teased. He stammered for a moment and she laughed and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Relax, dude; you’re a private person, I get it. If it bothered me, we wouldn’t have lasted this long.”

He made to reply, but just then the driver let out a confused ‘what the fuck’ and they looked over to see a lone figure standing in the middle of the otherwise empty street. More importantly, said figure was holding a rocket launcher that was aimed right at them. Loki lunged forward to grab the driver’s shoulder as he took hold of Edith with his other hand, encasing them in his seidr just as the projectile reached them and teleporting them a short distance away.

“Get to safety!” he told the driver, who looked about ready to throw up. He looked at Edith and hesitated for a moment before conjuring her uniform belt and holding it out to her. “There is no point in telling you to go, is there?”

“No,” she replied simply, taking her belt and buckling it on over her dress, “Let’s go get this prick.”

#Loki #Lover #Angst #Others #Submitted fic #submission #wedded bliss #chapter 44 #malicemanaged

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seromreven · 5 years

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title: dance of the jubjub birds.

anonymous requested: “ooo, Could you maybe do a f!readerxJohn, sort of like you’re last one where she’s super innocent and sorta clueless about how to not be a square and John takes her virginity? Thank you for indulging us, you are truly a gift.”

warnings: uh, what the request implies. (why do i have this section-).

author’s note: a long one shot for once, y’all! (i had fun!). i entertained the thought of the title being something from the backstreet boys song ‘if you want it to be good girl (get yourself a bad boy)’ but, lmao, the song title is fucking long and the lyrics themselves is repetitive and too long for a title too. so i just went with something barely related to the story and bad (as per usual).

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1958,

He was following you home. John Lennon… was following you home. Even as he walked faithfully beside you, you still had trouble believing it. He was the cool guy. He was in a band and skipped classes to smoke and was in a band and yet; here he was, making sure you got home safe from a ballet class that had drawn out late into the evening.

The circumstances of your meeting was… peculiar. You had bumped into each other on your way home. Literally. You thought you had heard something behind so you looked over your shoulder while walking and went straight into the square chest that belonged to the teddy boy. He had first reacted in anger but when he finally saw what hit him, his eyes softened and he apologised. He apologised! You never thought of him as one to apologise. You had never imagined him to have a soft side, with his tough exterior and all, but then again; you never really knew him before tonight.

He had taken notice of your jittery persona as you slowly walked towards your home and when you were called out on it; you were quick to reply. You hated being out alone at this hour. Especially in the delicate fabrics of your leotard and thin stockings. And you swore to him that you had seen the silhouette of a man following you. He peeked over your shoulder for a few silent seconds, eyes narrowed close, before offering his arm and protection. You didn’t show it but you were so ecstatic! So happy! You had always been scared witless about going home alone but your parents were never home to pick you up and they didn’t let you have a dog to protect you.

You soon reached your house. A big three-story one in one of the ‘nicer’ areas of Liverpool. John whistled lowly as he looked upon its looming facade and around the neighbourhood. It was dead quiet; the only sounds you could hear were the winds going through the trees and the sound of barking in the distance. “Can I,” you swallowed spit and nerves, “Can I invite your for some tea?” You fidgeted with the ends of your jacket as you asked him. His eyes focused on you suddenly; making you heart beat hard and loudly. He nodded and followed you inside. You went straight through the dark and quiet house to the kitchen. “Your parent's home?” he asked you as he sat down at the dining table, watching you start heating the water.

“No,” you answered not looking at him, too focused on getting the cups and tea bags ready. “So… you’re inviting a strange man into your home. Alone... dressed in a tutu.”

You spluttered and turned around red faced; only to see him there with a grin on his face. You had an idea of what he was hinting at but could do nothing in response but stutter while thinking of an answer. You weren’t even wearing the tutu right now! “Relax,” he said with an easy laugh and a wink, “I’m just messing with you.”

You nodded, fighting away the fierce blush that had reached your ears as you turned back around to the steaming pot, feeling too much like it at the moment. The thoughts lingered. The thoughts that had entered your mind as he joked and winked at you. He was so attractive! But so out of your league. You were a square. You danced ballet only because your parents wanted to. You read too much and stayed alone most of the day doing homework. He flirted with every girl but you. And were in a band! He was just being nice to be it and then at the end of the day; leave and forget all about you and how he helped you as he moved on with his life and band.

“It’s Earl Grey,” you muttered as you placed the steaming cups on the white and polished table, together with a small plate of assorted biscuit. He nodded before eagerly grabbing a biscuit that was quickly lost behind his thin lips. You fumbled as you sat down and got even redder as you heard him give a low chuckle. “You doing okay?”

You furiously nodded; “yep!”

It came out as a yelp and you winced at yourself and your anxious antics. You were better than this! You could do this whole social thing with a handsome boy! Totally! You just had to take deep breaths and relax; which made John looked at you… strangely. Oh, shoot. The breaths had been too deep.

“I’m sorry,” a nervous giggle accompanied the apology, “I don’t… really have people over… much.”

He stood up, “no need to tell me twice,” and you blinked, “I weren’t… about to?”

He came to stand by your side; looking down at you with his slender brown eyes and you turned in your seat to get a better look at him. He carefully moved stray, rebellious, hair that had moved to be in front of your eyes that were now nervously scanning his face; anxious to find out what he had in mind to do, standing so close to you. “You’re pretty, y’know,” he said in a low voice as he leaned closer towards you. You stammered as you tried to thank him but was interrupted by a kiss so soft. Soft in a way you never could imagine a boy like him would be able to give. You had never been kissed before so you nervously kissed him back; thoroughly inexperienced in your effort. And though you had doubts in your skills; it was wonderful! You desperately wanted more, but he pulled away; a hand on your hip and a look in his eyes you couldn’t describe but it sent excited shivers down your spine.

“Did I do all right?”

You asked, desperate for his approval. He answered in gentle chucking; his arm creeping tighter around you, “you did more than all right,” before dragging you in for another kiss. It lasted longer this time around and grew more heated. Once again, he pulled away to this time look around the room; “when will your parents be home?”

You shrugged with a sigh; “I don’t know, really. The day after tomorrow, maybe. They didn’t tell me, but not tonight.” He nodded; still looking towards the door. You felt brave. Suddenly so, like a lightning shooting through you and you bounced off your chair; almost knocking into him. Standing chest to chest, you carefully asked him a question, “want to go to my room?”

You desperately hoped that the kissing wouldn’t end. That the question hadn’t been too forward, and that you hadn’t just made a right fool of yourself. But it seemed all your worrying were for nought as he stepped to the side with the flourish of an arm, leading you lead the way which you quickly set into doing with a bounce in your step. The two of you descended the stairs in silence; not an uncomfortable one but one all the same. The door leading to your room stood partially open from when you had rushed out of it earlier that day, in a hurry to get to ballet class in time. You glanced warily over your shoulder; your nerves all in a rage about what John would think. What John was thinking.

He noticed your staring with a raised brow as he shut the door behind him as you had entered the small room. He noticed its bright colours immediately, it was hard not to, and the scattering of books throughout the room. It didn’t look the room of one nearing eighteen and it was a frustration of yours. Your parents refused to change any part of it; fearful of your aging and growing up, still wishing for you to be their little girl.

You bounced slightly on the bed as you watched him look around the room; studying and watching the little details of everything. The homework still open and splayed out over the desk. The desk that was surrounded by shelves on which stood books by authors such as Beatrix Potter and Lewis Carroll. He took down a copy of Jabberwocky and carefully looked through the pages with a small humming of a song you didn’t recognise. He released a chortle as he looked down on an illustration on a well-worn page. Putting it aside on the desktop, he finally looked at you and the flowery patterned wallpaper that made a stunning background. “You have a good taste in literature,” he mumbled and came to stand in front of your legs, crossed at the ankles. You thanked him with a beaming smile; happy and surprised that he had such an interest in books. Placing a hand on your knee, he sat down beside you on the soft bed and sparks of arousal shot through you like never before as the hand travelled slowly up your leg. You could feel the warmth of his hand through the thin fabric of your stockings. No-one had ever touched you like so and it made you go through a flurry of excitement and anxiety. You hardly knew him but you felt uncommonly daring, and you wanted more.

You turned around in your seat and leaned in; silently inviting him for another kiss that he dutifully accepted. During your increasingly passionate kissing, you felt him slowly press himself against you, leaning you back onto the bed, dragging your legs in between his own as he rested above you. You parted, both breathing heavily for air, staring into each other's eyes as you proceeded what seemed to be about to happen. “I’ve never done this before,” you whispered as you moved a hand to feel the burning warmth of your cheek. “Do you-” he interrupted himself and leaned slightly away from you, ��do you want to stop then? It’ll be all right with me.”

You blinked at the sudden drawback and quickly shook your head as you followed him up from the laid back position of before. You felt admiration at the show of respect for your perceived limits but you took a hold of his hands as you assured him; “I want this.” And to show how much, and following the daring streak that had made tonight, you pulled down the straps of your leotard; exposing your soft, warm breasts to the boy in front of you. He grinned and returned to the eager actions of before; kissing you excitedly as he cupped your breasts, earning him a strangled moan in response.

The hands disappeared from your heaving chest for too soon but it was quickly discovered as to why; one lifted you deftly up by the tailbone as he dragged down the leotard further. You quickly joined in on helping; imagining yourself as not the lithest being in the world. It was a hassle getting it all off; the stockings being no easy feat, but soon you laid in all your naked glory under a still fully dressed John. He was even wearing his leather jacket still. But, in the honest truth, you didn’t mind. The sight and smell comforted you in a way you couldn’t quite describe. You watched him squirm and move uncomfortably in his drain pipes and quickly noticed why; a hard snake like form had appeared and pressed hard against the fabric of his trousers. You blinked; so this was what a clothed erection looked like. You had read the description of it in… adult novels your mom hadn’t thought you’d notice hiding in various corners of her clothes drawers. Places you both knew your dad would never look into.

And you watched him attentively as he released himself from the tight leather and saw as the unclothed manhood sprang out from it confinements. You didn’t know how you had imagined… it to look like but it wasn't far off base from what you had imagined, really. Furthermore, you watched John touch it gently as he looked in silence at your studying expression. He rubbed it in such a way, after having spit in his hand (much to your surprise), that it grew harder and stiffer and you resisted the innate urge to reach out and touch; unsure if that would have been disruptive to the… process.

It didn’t take long after the little show he had given you before he leaned back down and met you in a wet kiss. A kiss more fierce and involved than before. One during which you felt a hand creep down between your legs; you shivered at it soft touches at your most sensitive areas and soon you felt him… inside you, opening you up with his adept fingers. It was unlike what you had ever felt and it was magnificent. So it was only expected that you whimpered when the touch vanished. John reacted with a chuckle and low tutting; “patience, love.”

You quickly found out the reasons for his words for he drew back and guided his cock in between your spread legs and, to both of your audible reactions, went the way his fingers had moments prior. Your breath hitched as he started moving at a carefully and excruciating pace. You weren’t sure of how long it was something before he hit… something within you. Something… extraordinary. Time seemed to pass by at an incredible speed as stars appeared before you. You clung to him as you reached a high. A climax of pleasure you had never thought imaginable. And not too long after; he seemed to repeat the statement, the sensation, as he filled you up with a warm liquid, only to pull out and fall down beside you in an exhausted huff.

You heard him shuffle off his jacket and, presumably, the rest of his clothing. But you didn’t heed any attention to the noise as you spaced out staying at the bare and open ceiling of your bedroom, slowly drifting off to dreams of you and John.

#request #the beatles #john lennon #reader insert #reader #female reader #beatles fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #was this fic cheesy? in some way yes certainly #but i thought of trying to fit the period and attitude of the mc #and fghjkl thank you !!#you're all so very nice aw

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hufflly-puffs · 4 years

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Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Chapter 19: Elf Tails

“Hermione gave an almost inaudible sniff. She had been exceptionally quiet all day. Having hurtled, white-faced, up to Harry outside the hospital wing and demanded to know what had happened, she had taken almost no part in Harry and Ginny’s obsessive discussion about how Ron had been poisoned, but merely stood beside them, clench-jawed and frightened-looking, until at last they had been allowed in to see him.” – It is hard that it took Ron almost dying for him and Hermione to make up and speak again and rekindle their friendship. Not to be melodramatic on main but whenever you fight with someone, whenever you feel like you can longer talk with each other, the reasons for it are usually not worth the fight. Don’t get to the point where you regret you never made up with someone. And I think this is what Hermione has been thinking about all day: how she almost lost Ron without the chance to make up, with all the anger and hurt feelings between them, and how trivial the reason for them fighting seems now. Something to consider before you throw away a friendship.

“‘Who’d want to kill Slughorn?’ ‘Dumbledore reckons Voldemort wanted Slughorn on his side,’ said Harry. ‘Slughorn was in hiding for a year before he came to Hogwarts. And …’ he thought of the memory Dumbledore had not yet been able to extract from Slughorn, ‘and maybe Voldemort wants him out of the way, maybe he thinks he could be valuable to Dumbledore.’” – I think this is the real reason Voldemort is after Slughorn – right now he is the only one who knows about the secret of his immortality and therefore how he could become mortal again.

“‘But you said Slughorn had been planning to give that bottle to Dumbledore for Christmas,’ Ginny reminded him. ‘So the poisoner could just as easily have been after Dumbledore.’ ‘Then the poisoner didn’t know Slughorn very well,’ said Hermione, speaking for the first time in hours and sounding as though she had a bad head-cold. ‘Anyone who knew Slughorn would have known there was a good chance he’d keep something that tasty for himself.’” – It is the same pattern as with the Cursed necklace – there was a big chance the necklace would never make it into the castle, just as there was a big chance the poisoned mead would never make it to Dumbledore given Slughorn’s nature. Both times Dumbledore was the actual target, both times the execution was sloppy and careless. And this is something Dumbledore points out later in his final conversation with Draco, that perhaps Draco never wanted to succeed, that he might have even hoped Dumbledore would put a stop to it.

“‘Well, for one thing, they both ought to have been fatal and weren’t, although that was pure luck. And for another, neither the poison nor the necklace seems to have reached the person who was supposed to be killed. Of course,’ she added broodingly, ‘that makes the person behind this even more dangerous in a way, because they don’t seem to care how many people they finish off before they actually reach their victim.’” – If we do believe Dumbledore that Draco secretly wanted his plans to fail, I don’t think it was his intention to hurt others in the process, or even kill them. If Katie hadn’t touched the necklace then surely Filch’s Secrecy Sensors would have detected the necklace. And he might have assumed that either Slughorn or Dumbledore would have tested the mead of poison before drinking it. Draco is, as Dumbledore tells him, not a killer.

“‘I mean, it’s always bin a bit of a risk sendin’ a kid ter Hogwarts, hasn’ it? Yer expect accidents, don’ yeh, with hundreds of under-age wizards all locked up tergether, but attempted murder, tha’s diff ’rent.” – Is there a compulsory education in the Wizarding World or is it up to the parents to decide whether they send their kids to school or teach them at home? Hagrid’s wording makes it sound like home-schooling is an option, because surely not just Hogwarts but every Wizarding school is a bit risky for the same reasons (though clearly the weirdest stuff always happens at Hogwarts).

Also by now it is an established plot device that whenever Harry needs to know something he isn’t supposed to know to just let Hagrid accidently tell him.

“‘I’m a ruddy teacher, aren’ I, yeh sneakin’ Squib!’ said Hagrid, firing up at once.” – Using the word ‘Squib’ as an insult is not very cool, Hagrid.

“‘I’ve been waiting for you to come back,’ said McLaggen, disregarding Harry’s drawn wand. ‘Must’ve fallen asleep. Look, I saw them taking Weasley up to the hospital wing earlier. Didn’t look like he’ll be fit for next week’s match.’” – Leave it to McLaggen to use the first chance he gets to get a place in the Quidditch team. I mean Ron, Harry’s best friend, has been in the hospital wing for hours, clearly Harry has other concerns, but all McLaggen cares about is Quidditch and his chance to play. Jerk.

“Harry, however, had never been less interested in Quidditch; he was rapidly becoming obsessed with Draco Malfoy.” – A sentence straight out of a fan fiction, I am sure.

“‘Yeah, I’m really going to tell you, because it’s your business, Potter,’ sneered Malfoy. ‘You’d better hurry up, they’ll be waiting for the Chosen Captain – the Boy Who Scored – whatever they call you these days.’” – The Boy Who Scored. THE BOY WHO SCORED. I mean it does sound like the porn version of Harry Potter, just so you know it.

“Then Cadwallader scored again, making things level, but Luna did not seem to have noticed; she appeared singularly uninterested in such mundane things as the score, and kept attempting to draw the crowd’s attention to such things as interestingly shaped clouds and the possibility that Zacharias Smith, who had so far failed to maintain possession of the Quaffle for longer than a minute, was suffering from something called ‘Loser’s Lurgy’.” – As much as I am not interested in Quidditch I would love to hear Luna comment matches.

“‘Ginny came in to visit while you were unconscious,’ he said, after a long pause, and Harry’s imagination zoomed into overdrive, rapidly constructing a scene in which Ginny, weeping over his lifeless form, confessed her feelings of deep attraction to him while Ron gave them his blessing …” – Confirmed: Harry James Potter secretly reads romance novels.

“‘Dobby is a free house-elf and he can obey anyone he likes and Dobby will do whatever Harry Potter wants him to do!’ said Dobby, tears now streaming down his shrivelled little face on to his jumper.” – I had wondered about this last book. After Dobby had warned the DA about Umbridge Harry had forbidden him to hurt himself and Dobby had accepted that order. Now we know why. Dobby is free to choose his master (Dumbledore) and apparently he can obey more than one person, based on who he likes and respects.

#Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince #Elf Tails #chapter notes #hbp

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365daysofsasuhina · 5 years

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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Two Hundred Eighty-Eight: Sifting Through Sand ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Hyūga Hiashi ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

“So...any ideas of what you wanna do before Summer break ends?”

Lying in the shade of a tree in her backyard, Hinata stares up into the leaves. A gentle breeze sways them to and fro, speckles of sunlight filtering through and dancing over the pair of them. There’s only a handful of weeks before the Summer between high school and college is over, and they officially enter the next phase of their lives. By some grace, they’re only going to be about two hours apart. More than doable for a continued relationship, in her humble opinion.

Taking time to think over Sasuke’s question, she heaves a long, thoughtful sigh. She’s been taking this Summer slowly, doing her best to make it last. But they have a bit of time left for one last hoorah. Maybe a trip, or...a day for some event…?

“...what about you?” she asks to stall for time, earning a chuckle.

“I asked you first.”

“I’m thinking.”

A few seconds of contemplative silence pass. “...I’d like to go to the coast for a few days.”

That gets her to glance over to him, brows lifting a bit. “...oh?”

“Yeah. Just to hang out, have a change of scenery...maybe act like a tourist for a bit,” he explains, unable to help a hint of a grin. “Leave stuff here behind and sort of...recharge the batteries before we head out, huh?”

A slight weight sinks in HInata’s gut at the notion. While many of her classmates are excited for college...she’s a little scared. Striking out (mostly) on her own, in a place she doesn’t know, surrounded by thousands of strangers...her introverted nature makes the prospect seem extremely daunting. The only person also going to her school that she knows is her cousin’s girlfriend, Tenten...but she’s a year older. Ino is attending a cosmetology school in the same city, and Sakura is diving right into nursing at a school along said coast.

“...I think...that sounds like fun,” she eventually replies, nodding.

“You wanna go?”

“Mhm! Like you said, it...it would be a nice change of pace. And the weather should be nice, right?”

“I’ll have to check the weather app. When do you wanna go?”

“Um...I don’t care.” It’s not like she has any other plans, really.

“...how about Thursday? We’ll drive in, have Friday and the weekend...and come back Monday.”

“I guess I need to c-check with my dad first, but…” Well, Hiashi’s already begrudgingly accepted the fact that his daughter is dating...and she is an adult. Surely he’ll let her go...right?

“Okay, cool. I better double check, too. I’ll let you know once I’ve got an answer.”

“Yeah, me too. But for now, I’m...very comfy,” Hinata admits with a giggle.

As if to agree, Sasuke rolls over and drapes an arm over her waist, chin over her head as she laughs a bit more. “...are you comfy?”

“Mm, very.”

“...good.”

After a day of relaxing together, the pair go their separate ways. Sasuke heads home, and Hinata heads inside. Her father has yet to return from work for the day, and her sister is at a Summer camp. It’s been rather nice having the house all to herself. Or...well, more often than not, to herself and to Sasuke. Hiashi hasn’t asked, and she hasn’t told...but part of her suspects he assumes as much. Hinata’s a smart girl, though - she’s drawn her boundaries well. And Sasuke respects them.

So she hopes their good behavior thus far will work in her favor when she asks.

Putting together a dinner for the pair of them, she greets her father when he gets home around five-thirty. “How was...h-how was your day?”

“Adequate,” he sighs, dropping off his things by the door. “Seems you’ve been busy in the kitchen.”

“Mhm! When was, um...Hanabi getting home again?”

“Next Monday, I believe. I have to go pick her up.”

“I see.” Setting the table and subtly watching to gauge her father’s mood, she then lightly notes, “It’s hard to believe Summer’s almost o-over already…”

“Excited for school?”

“Um...sort of. Pretty nervous…”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. Everyone is nervous to some degree,” Hiashi offers as he takes his seat.

“I guess so…” Poking at her food a bit, there’s a pause before she offers, “I, um...I was thinking about maybe taking a quick trip to the...to the coast this weekend.”

“...oh?”

“Just, you know...one last little thing to do before school starts.”

Hiashi takes a bite of his dinner, chewing and thinking that over. “...I’m assuming you won’t be going by yourself.”

“Well...no. It was actually...Sasuke’s idea.”

...the chewing stops.

Hinata fidgets under the table.

”...I see. And how long would this trip be for?”

“He thought we could...leave Thursday to have a day to drive, and...come back Monday.”

“...four nights, then.” Hiashi leans back in his chair, sighing thoughtfully. “...and what would your hotel arrangement be?”

“W-well, we...didn’t get that far. We needed to ask, first.”

He nods slowly. “...if...you promise me you will have a two bed room, and keep your behavior appropriate...then I see no reason why you cannot go. To my knowledge, you have handled this...relationship responsibly. I trust you.”

For some reason...those three words bring a tightness to her chest. She can’t remember ever hearing him...say that before. “...thank you, Father. I...I will be on my best behavior. I promise.”

“I expect you will be. Be sure to check in every so often so I know you’re safe. And remind Sasuke it’s not just your actions I’ll be expecting to be kept in check.”

“Y...yes.”

Once dinner is over and the kitchen tidied, Hinata rushes to her room to text him the good news.

Yeah? Mine said I can go too. Guess it’s a go?

It’s a go!

Come Wednesday night, Hinata is packed, having gone through her inventory no less than three times to ensure she’s not forgetting anything. She supposes if anything is missing, she can always pick up a spare if it’s not too expensive. When morning rolls around and Sasuke swings by to pick her up, she pauses in the foyer as Hiashi calls her name.

“...do be careful, and text me when you get there.”

“I-I will. See you when we get back, Father.” She accepts a hug, finding it to be a little less...tense than usual. Waving, she then puts her bag in the back seat and hops into the front with Sasuke.

“Ready?”

“Yeah…!” A giddy excitement finds her, unable to stop a smile.

The drive takes a smidge over five hours, the pair making it to their hotel just a bit after midday. Checking in, they find their room, two beds as requested. Hinata sets her bag along the foot of one, Sasuke checking their view as she sends Hiashi an arrival text.

“Think we should head to the beach?”

“Can we eat first? I’m starving…!”

“I think there’s a place to eat along the sand - might be kinda spendy, but...we’re here to have fun, right?”

“Right!”

The cafe in question is a bit busy, but they get in after a half hour wait. The entire place is pretty much outdoor, and the floor is simply open to the sand beneath them. Sitting at a tall table atop stools, they order their food and watch the waves roll.

“I dunno about you...but I feel relaxed already,” Sasuke offers between bites.

“Yeah, me too...it’s so nice. Now I wish I’d applied for schooling over here!”

“We’ll just have to come back next Summer, or maybe over Spring break, huh?”

“Sure!”

After lunch, they walk around a few shops nearby the hotel, letting their meal settle. Hinata buys a few little trinkets, mostly souvenirs for Hanabi and her father. Sasuke indulges in one for Itachi, too. It’s then they return to their room, changing into swimsuits and heading out to the beach.

A bit self-conscious, Hinata at first stays sat on her towel, a bit huddled up. But Sasuke slowly urges her back up, the pair taking a leisurely walk along the beach.

“Hey, let’s look for some shells.”

“Think we can find some…?”

“Maybe.”

They move to a less trafficked part of the sand, sifting through it and looking for tidbits. They actually rummage up a decent sized pile, Hinata oohing at each find.

“Look at this one! It’s so tiny…”

“Y’know that a lot of sand is actually tiny little shells?”

“Really?!”

“Mhm. We’ll have to take some home…I’ve still got that little telescope. Maybe we can see some.”

As the day wanes, the pair take up their treasures and head back toward the hotel, a bit too tired to swim. Hinata sorts through the shells again, dividing them up so they can each have some to take home come Monday.

“Can I have this one?”

“You take whatever you want. I’m good with whatever.”

“...but -?”

“All I care about is having a few to remember today by. Doesn’t matter.”

Hinata goes a light shade of pink, sheepishly setting the shell on her pile.

They go to a fast food joint for dinner to save a little money, watching the sun set from their table. Then back to the hotel, lounging and browsing on their phones.

“Well...not bad for a partial day. Think we should turn in early so we can head out in the morning, get some touristing done?”

Hinata giggles. “Sure.” She slips into the bathroom to change into her pajamas: bunny-print shorts and a tank top. Sasuke dons only a pair of silky pajama pants, making her blush again.

“...you saw me shirtless earlier. And several times before now.”

“I-I know that! I just...I thought…”

Sasuke just snorts, making his way into bed. Hinata sets the alarm, and then turns out the light.

“...goodnight, Sasuke.”

“Night, Hinata.”

.oOo.

Well, this one's a random stand-alone oneshot for once, lol - just some modern fluff, really. Also I'm sorry I've been so behind as of late - life is kicking me in the pants and my mojo has been rather low. Add in some health trouble and I've just not been able to keep up ^^; Hoping I can play catch-up once October is over. We'll see. But one way or another, I WILL finish this challenge. Just...please bear with me while life is in a bit of a lurch <3 Anywho, not...too much to say otherwise? It kinda speaks for itself I guess lol - but for now III need some sleep :'D Thanks for reading~

#sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #hyūga hiashi #best years of your life [ au ]#365daysofsasuhina

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generallynerdy · 5 years

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Our Little Secret Part 5 (Merlin & Child!Reader)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Summary: (Y/N)’s greatest wish, ever since Cenred’s invasion of Camelot, has been to be a knight. Of course, women can’t be knights so she settles for training sessions with the other knights, who sneak around the ever watchful Arthur just to teach her.

Key: (Y/N) - your name

Warnings: sparring sessions, swords, cursing probably, mentions of death, slight angst

Word Count: 2,490

Note: this one is super long to make up for not actually writing Lancelot’s death scene also i love it pls enjoy it

(Y/N)’s sword clattered to the forest floor and she followed after it, landing on her back with a grunt. “Ow,” she muttered, looking up at the sky and refusing to stand.

It had been a long time since Cenred invaded Camelot and much had happened since then. Uther was killed and Arthur crowned king, then Morgana tried to take Camelot once more. She almost succeeded, but was driven away and killed, as far as everyone could tell.

Since then, (Y/N) had grown into a beautiful young lady, almost an adult. Her training with Merlin was going well, since the kingdom had seen a long time of peace, giving her time to actually work on her magic. As for the other aspects of her life, she had a different type of training that was currently kicking her ass.

“I don’t understand,” she said without moving. “If I can’t be a knight, then why are we even out here?”

A figure appeared above her, offering his hand to help her up. She took it gratefully and was on her feet soon after, though with a pained groan. Her sparring partner, Gwaine, chuckled at her words and shook his head at her lack of enthusiasm.

“It wouldn’t kill you to learn how to defend yourself,” he said. He then handed her the sword she had dropped and motioned with his own. “C’mon. One more.”

“You said that last time.”

“This time I mean it,” he grinned. “Lose one more time and we’ll stop for today.”

(Y/N) sighed and gripped her sword tightly, barely getting a moment to right herself before Gwaine was striking again. “Hey! I wasn’t ready!”

“You’re never ready! Fix your footing!”

She groaned, but did as he said, blocking his blows with increased precision each time. Soon, she was getting in her own strikes, nearing an actual blow, but never getting close enough to touch him. Suddenly, her lack of advantage against a knight of Camelot gave her an idea and she kicked a nearby branch into his path, tripping him.

He hissed and yelped when he fell onto the ground, looking up with a pained grin. “That was dirty. Utterly un-knightly behaviour.”

“I’m just learning to defend myself, remember?” (Y/N) teased.

“Unfortunately,” Gwaine huffed as he stood, “I said we would quit if you lost. Go again.”

They were barely a few minutes into their next sparring session when a loud voice stopped them.

“What’s this?”

Gwaine and (Y/N), who had been too focused on their duel, finally realised they were being watched by a group of knights on their horses. The loud voice was King Arthur, leading the small troupe of Percival, Elyan, and Leon.

“Shit,” Gwaine cursed, glancing helplessly at (Y/N).

Elyan snickered. “You’re in big trouble now.”

Arthur dismounted and crossed the clearing to stand in front of the two, who lowered their swords and tried to look anywhere but him. They shared a glance full of dread, but almost instantly diverted their gazes.

“Explain,” Arthur said.

Unfortunately for him, they both started speaking at the same time.

“I asked him to--”

“It was my idea--”

Arthur raised his hand and they both went silent. “Gwaine, go back with the others. I’ll deal with you later.”

Sulkily, Gwaine sent (Y/N) a sorrowful look before striding toward the others, who couldn’t stop snickering.

Before he went with them, he stopped beside Arthur and spoke to him quietly. “Please don’t be angry with her. It was my idea.”

“Gwaine,” Arthur said, stopping him.

The firmness yet ease in his gaze made the knight nod and continue on his way. He was nervous that the king would stop him from training the girl, but he knew the man could never be angry at her. Hell, even Gaius had trouble getting mad at her. They were all too fond of (Y/N) to ever grow cross because of her.

As they rode away, Arthur approached (Y/N), who shuffled nervously. He held out a hand, motioning for her sword, which she handed to him. Carefully, he held it out, feeling its balance.

“It’s a nice sword,” he hummed. “Who made it?”

(Y/N) smiled sheepishly at the ground. “Elyan.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows and handed the blade back to her. “He did, did he? Are they all in on it?”

“Except Leon,” she admitted. “He’s a snitch.”

At that, he couldn’t help laughing. “How long has this been happening, (Y/N)? Furthermore, why?”

“A few months now--”

“Months?” He scoffed. “I am more blind than I thought.”

(Y/N) shook her head. “It’s easy for them to sneak around and make excuses for each other. Nobody keeps track of all of them all the time.”

“Ah,” he said simply.

Both of them went silent and Arthur took to surveying the clearing in the woods. It was a gorgeous place, surrounded by lush trees and flora. The grass grew so high in the spring that animals would swarm for days until it was significantly shorter. Looking at the single pillar of rock in the middle of the clearing, you would think it had a magical aura.

Arthur sighed as his gaze passed over the stone. “Here, of all places.”

“I miss him,” (Y/N) whispered, the sound almost muted by the breeze. “When I told him I wanted to be a knight, he didn’t laugh. He thought it was ambitious, but he never thought it was unachievable.”

“I think you reminded him a lot of himself,” Arthur said, making her turn to look at him with furrowed eyebrows.

In a soft voice, she questioned him. “What do you mean?”

“All Lancelot ever wanted was to be a knight, but the whole world was against him.” Arthur sighed and wondered aloud. “I can’t believe he never told you that.”

“I don’t think he ever believed it would happen,” she said, smiling to herself. Then, she sombered. “I guess I’m in the same boat.”

Arthur looked over at her with sparkling eyes. “Who ever said a lady can’t be a knight?”

(Y/N) scoffed. “Your father.”

“He’s also the one who told me I couldn’t marry a serving girl,” he reminded her. “If a serving girl can be Queen, I think a serving girl can be a knight, too.”

“You mean--?” She looked at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

Before she could finish her question, a blade was swinging toward her face. In an instant, she lifted her own sword and leapt into the right position to block the blow. A small gasp left her lips, but Arthur, who had attempted the attack, only smirked.

“Gwaine is a good teacher,” he hummed thoughtfully. “But I think you could use a new sparring partner.”

(Y/N) grinned and adjusted her footing. “Are you offering?”

“Maybe,” he said, spinning his sword in his hand. “But it has to be our little secret.”

“Deal.”

In the hall before the throne room, (Y/N) paced from wall to wall, armor clanking against the ground with each step. Her eyes were angled downward, watching the floor as she walked. When a door slammed shut nearby, her gaze was drawn to a familiar face entering from there.

“Are you ready?” Gaius asked, carrying an armful of red fabric.

(Y/N) nodded, a proud smile painting her face. “I’ve always been ready.”

Gaius chuckled and took the piece of fabric, unfolding it. It was a bright red cloak, saved just for her. He swung it around her shoulder, tying the corners of it around her neck so that it rested above her armour.

(Y/N) felt a swell of pride as she donned it, remembering what Arthur had told her.

“The cape is as to a knight as a crown is to a king. Its an exhibit of their position, their repute, their skill. But remember, the cape is just a show. It’s not what makes you a knight.”

Once it was tied, Gaius patted her cheek. “When you hear the trumpets,” he reminded her.

(Y/N) nodded and watched as he disappeared through a side door into the throne room. Meanwhile, she took her place before the main doors, inhaling deeply as she put her right hand on the hilt of her sword, which slumbered in its sheath. She could just barely hear the rise of chatter in the room behind those doors.

When trumpets sounded from inside, the speaking hushed and (Y/N) stepped forward, shoving the doors open. Crowds of people surrounded a pathway of red carpet, which led right up to the thrones of the King and Queen.

With a deep breath and goosebumps all up her arms, (Y/N) followed the path, glancing at familiar faces as she passed. She nodded at Merlin when he met her gaze, eyes shining.

The knights stood in the front few rows, her favourites being on the left side from where she was standing. She could not look at them before she was at the front, kneeling before of Arthur and Gwen.

“Knighthood,” Arthur announced, gaining everyone’s attention. “Until now, it has been reserved for men and men only. Today, we change that.”

He stepped further away from his throne and his queen, down a few steps to stand in front of (Y/N), who looked up at him. Respect shone in her eyes, making him smile slightly. She was almost shaking, though he couldn’t tell what from. Perhaps it was excitement, perhaps it was nerves. He had a feeling it might’ve been both.

Without breaking eye contact, Arthur drew his sword, tapping each of (Y/N)’s shoulders with it. “Arise, Lady (Y/N),” he said. “Knight of Camelot.”

She stood at his word, a new weight upon her shoulders, though it was a happily earned weight. Then, she turned to face Camelot, who all cheered at her accomplishment.

As her eyes passed over the left side of the room (though it looked right to her), she noticed her favourite group of knights, all grinning at her. Gwaine couldn’t wipe the smile off his face, Elyan cheered louder than anyone else, Leon nodded at her, and Percival wiped a tear from his eye.

“Oh, forget procedure,” Gwaine suddenly said, rushing forward.

He embraced the girl in a mighty hug, making her laugh and the others in the room cheer louder. Arthur rolled his eyes, but wore a fond smile as he watched the rest of the knights join them.

“That’s my (Y/N),” Gwaine smiled, brushing her hair back.

She scoffed and shoved his hand away. “You weren’t my only teacher, Gwaine.” She paused, suddenly addressing all of them. “But thank you. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for all of you.”

“We wouldn’t be here if not for you, either, (Y/N),” Elyan grinned. “Remember the bandits?”

The others all laughed and she shoved him playfully. “I could never forget the scream you made. I thought it was Gwen!”

“I’m just glad you survived the final assessment,” Leon muttered. “Not many people fight Percival and make it out alive.”

Percival huffed. “I wouldn’t have hurt you.”

“I know,” she told him reassuringly, a smile making itself plain.

The crowd began to disperse, though (Y/N) noticed Gaius, Merlin, Arthur, and Gwen all lingering, almost waiting for the knights to give them their moment.

“And now; drinks!” Gwaine announced, practically sprinting from the throne room.

Elyan groaned. “We’d better make sure he doesn’t destroy the tavern again.”

Disgruntled, the rest of the knights agreed and followed him, excluding Leon, who hung back. As they left, a bark sounded and Spot ran inside, greeting his newly knighted master with a viciously wagging tail. (Y/N) laughed and let him smother her for a while before stopping when Arthur and Gwen approached.

The queen instantly wrapped her in a hug. “Oh, I’m so proud of you,” she gushed.

When she let go, Arthur had to go in for his own embrace, nearly crushing the girl in his grip. “I’ll never forget the look on your face when I told you that you could be a knight,” he muttered in reminiscence.

“I think I blacked out for a second,” (Y/N) laughed.

He smiled and put a hand on her shoulder. “Just remember that moment when the others wake you up tomorrow with a cold bucket of water.”

“Wait, what?” Her eyes widened as he walked away.

Just as he and Gwen exited, Merlin and Gaius stepped up. Gaius bid her a quick goodbye, since he had already said his piece before the ceremony.

Meanwhile, Merlin hugged her and gave a giddy laugh. “How does it feel?”

“Amazing! I’ve never been happier in my life,” she said, feeling as if she couldn’t breathe. Then, she went somber. “Merlin, if you hadn’t helped Spot and I that day--”

“Don’t mention it,” he started.

She shook her head. “I never would have even stepped foot in the palace. I wouldn’t have the resources to be a knight, much less have wanted to be one in the first place.”

Merlin hugged her again. “Well, Gaius and I needed the extra hands.”

When he left, it was just (Y/N), Spot, and Leon left in the room. The new knight didn’t even realise Leon was there at first until he cleared his throat. She turned on her heel, smiling at the sight of the first knight she ever met, outside of Arthur, of course.

“I thought you’d enjoy a night off with the others,” she teased.

He groaned. “Watching Gwaine get drunk off his ass again? I’ll be the one dragging him home, given my luck.”

“Well, if you’re not planning on going anywhere,” (Y/N) hummed. She crossed the room and linked her arm with his, starting to lead him out the door. “Will you help me with something?”

Leon gave her a genuine smile. “Sure. Our little secret adventure.”

(Y/N) placed the flowers down carefully in front of the stone, keeping a silent vigil as she did. She put her hand on it fondly, whispering to it as if it could hold a conversation. After she said her own quick prayer, she got to her feet, backing away to stand by Leon, who put a comforting arm on her shoulder.

“Lancelot would’ve been proud.”

(Y/N) wiped at her eyes. “I hope so.” She then giggled quietly. “I know New Lancelot is.”

Leon joined in her laughter, though they tried not to be loud enough to disturb any nearby wildlife.

He then sighed and faced her. “(Y/N), I can’t believe you’re a knight.”

“You can’t believe it?” She asked sarcastically. After, she spoke seriously. “You inspired it, Leon. I mean, you were the first knight I ever really knew, besides Arthur. Thank you.”

He drew her into a tight hug as they silently reminisced of the old days, of better days.

Merlin Tags: @pearlll09

Part 6

Masterlist

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cautrida · 5 years

Text

So.. I wrote something?

Here’s a little Christmas One-Shot for those that love Catradora as much as I do! I know it’s May, please don’t sue me.

Warnings: Mentions of Affair and Stripper in a comical sense. And Fluff?

Words: 2713

Pairings: Catra x Adora Modern!AU

A Christmas Dilemma

When Catra opened her eyes that morning, the first thing she saw was her girlfriend Adroa lying next to her, or rather she was lying on her.

Her legs were in a position Catra couldn't imagine being even a little comfortable. Adora's head resting on her torso, drooling a little on Catra’s stomach. With a little sigh, she looked out of the bedroom window and saw snowflakes slowly making their way towards the ground.

Catra always loved the winter. Not so much the cold, no she hated that part with a burning passion that always got a laugh out of Adroa every time she complained about it, and if it hadn’t been for school or her job she wouldn't want to leave the house at all.

What she did enjoy however was the feeling of crawling into bed cuddling her girlfriend under the blankets while “A Christmas Carol” is on TV. Also, she loved how Adora got all wiggly with excitement for Holidays. She loved the moment when she´d gone to bed, waking up a few hours later from a nightmare or to get a glass of water, seeing that it had snowed and the streets were coated in a white layer as if someone just spilled powdered sugar everywhere. Seeing this always hold a special place in her heart, as if she was the only one allowed to witness it. What Catra didn´t like about the winter, besides the cold, was Christmas.

Well, not Christmas itself but rather the fact that everybody had to have the perfect, expensive Christmas gift. It had always made herself feel inadequate. Damn, she was a broke College student! How on Earth could she afford a pair of fancy earrings, or new fancy game console for Adora when her job could barely cover her rent and living expenses? ( Both rather shitty suggestions from Scorpia and Entrapta respectively, when she asked them what she should get Adora as a gift this year).

Catra sometimes thought that Adora could do better.

A girl who wouldn't wake her up in the middle of the night to console her after a particularly bad dream.

A girl who did have the money to buy her the ultimate Christmas gift.

Or at least a girl who's at least got an idea on what to get her? Well, she still had a few weeks to think about what she could gift her, so Catra closed her eyes again and hoped that she could doze off again until it was time to get up.

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

"So, got any idea what to get Adora for next week?"

Catra sat on a table in the middle of a big cafe. With the black coffee in her hand, she looked away from the door in which Adora and Perfuma vanished and glanced back to the girl sitting across from her. Scorpia had her elbows propped on the table and looked at her expectantly.

At least once in a fortnight, the whole group would meet up in Perfuma's cafe. Not everyone could come every time, so this particular morning it was just them and Glimmer.

Adora had just gone to the kitchen with Perfuma because something got....stuck? Catra didn´t really listen to what Perfuma was saying but Adora, nice as she was, jumped at the prospect of helping out. So while she was gone, Scorpia probably thought it was a good chance to interrogate Catra about her little Christmas problem.

She sighed and took a gulp out of her Coffee. "I got absolutely nothing". Glimmer looked at her horrified and obviously had problems keeping her face straight. "Christmas is in like a week, and you still got no gift?", she said and took a sip of her own hot chocolate. "You should hurry because lemme tell ya', all the good gifts will be sold out in the next few days!"

Catra scoffed at her and rolled her eyes. Like she didn´t know that already.

"Well, time isn´t actually my problem, rather the money it costs to buy the good stuff."

She knew of course that Glimmer probably never had to worry about money, her family being as rich as they were. To be honest, Catra couldn´t even imagine that Glimmer knew the definition of broke.

Now Glimmer was the one sighing, "Why didn´t you save some money or something like that. Christmas is every year and not exactly a surprise..."

"Glimmer, It´s not easy to save money when you don´t have anything to save," Catra said, leaning backwards in her chair.

"Why don´t you make her a gift yourself? That's always a sweet idea! Like… draw her a picture or make a coupon! Yes, a coupon is a great idea! Everybody loves my hug-coupons!" exclaimed Scorpia loudly and giddy. Catra just watched her and her antics. That was a bad idea. There weren´t 5 anymore, where you could pull off a drawn picture of them both together as a sufficient gift for a Christmas.

Suddenly Glimmer's eyes widened and she made a sound like she just had an epiphany. Her head turned towards Catra, "You could knit her a sweater!! I mean you know Adora, when it´s cold she just wears like three different Shirts on top of each other and calls it a day! I don´t think she even owns a sweater," she said it as if it was the brightest idea of mankind since the discovery of fire. That idea didn't even sound bad but there was one problem.

How was she supposed to learn knitting in a week?

Glimmer tried to ease her mind, saying it was relatively easy to learn and that she would teach her. Even Scorpia thought it was a good idea. "And if that doesn´t work you could still make her coupons!" Catra smirked at that and leaned back into her Chair.

"Yeah, but I would probably make them a whole lot dirtier."

"EWW, I didn't need to know that!!"

Oh, how Catra loved to rile Glimmer up.

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

Well, that didn´t work as planned.

It was the 24th of December and Catra sat on the couch in the living room of her apartment. Adora was at work and Catra had finally enough time to work at the last kinks for her Christmas gift.

She looked at that.... thing in her hands. It was a sweater, certainly, but she didn´t know what she did wrong. The sleeves were different lengths and it somehow was a few sizes bigger than she wanted it to be and could probably fit them both if they squeezed together.

Catra sighed. She even used that weird sizing technique that Glimmer showed her, but somehow she still screwed up.

She stared at the sweater as if her intense gaze could magically make it better. With a grunt, she tossed the Sweater next to her on the couch and laid back. What was she even doing? Like Adora would actually like something so stupid. Stupid Glimmer and her stupid idea and her stupid knitting course. She wanted to rip the dreaded sweater into pieces but then she would have nothing to show for tomorrow morning and she would rather be dead than to not be able to give her girlfriend a present.

She stood up making her way into the kitchen. Maybe a coffee would help her and at least she knew how to make those. Before she actually got to the kitchen she heard a key rattle and the door openening. Adora was back from Work. Early. And that blasted Sweater was still lying on the couch.

Catra pounced back at the sofa, tossing the throw blanket over it. From Adora's perspective, it must have looked suspicious because she just stood there, still the in the door, watching Catra with big eyes.

"I just hope you're not hiding an affair under that blanket." She said chuckling. Catra rolled her eyes and smirked at Adora, " Yeah, there's a stripper under there who just gave me a lap-dance" Now Adora was laughing out loud while coming through the door. "Should I leave you two to it then for a few hours?" She hung her Jacket and her purse on the hook at the door "Or should I just go to the bedroom for a minute so you can hide my gift?" she said with a wink. Catras face fell, "How did you-" Adora interrupted her and leaned forward to the couch to give Catra a kiss. "Well, it IS the 24th. And since that lump there is too small for an actual stripper, I used the power of deduction to conclude that it is a Christmas gift that you don't want me to see." Adora was excited about her gift, that much she could see in the way Adora's eyes twinkled at her. "Love you" Adora said over her shoulder while leaving for the bedroom. "Yeah, Yeah, love you too" grumbled Catra quietly. She sighed and put her head in her hands.

What should she do?

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

When Catra woke up from a tumultuous sound in the kitchen, she was alone in bed. She looked at the clock on her nightstand. 7 am. What the hell? Why was Adora awake? Catra could hear muffled singing from the living room, which sounded like Christmas music but…

Oh right, Christmas.

She stood up and opened the bedroom door just enough to look at what was going on. She saw Adora standing in front of their tree (if you could call it that) with headphones in her ear.

"-snow is high so come inside

I wanna hear you say to me!

It's a very, very, merry, merry Christmas.

Gonna party on 'til Santa grants my wishes.

Got my halo on I know what I want

It's who I'm with.

It's an extraordinary merry Christmas!"

Adora was evidently a very good singer. She probably wouldn´t win The Voice with it but Catra loved it all the same. She would have been content with just standing there, watching Adora sing for the rest of the day, but with a swirl, Adora was facing Catra and froze. She hastily got the headphones out of her ears and smiled at her. "Hey, Adora" Catra looked at her with amusement. "Why are you up already?"

Adora arranged a few more Christmas lights on the tree and then walked towards Catra. "Well, duh, its Christmas. I've been up since 5AM, and couldn't go back to sleep so I thought I could make us breakfast, but that didn't go as planned" She chuckled embarrassedly "But whatever, go freshen yourself up, I'm gonna make us some hot chocolate and then we can exchange gifts!" Adora shoved Catra towards the bathroom, but just for the fun of it Catra made herself heavier so Adora had to use all of her strength to move her.

"Chop, Chop Catra, we still have that Dinner party with the others, we ain't got all morning!"

An hour later both of them sat on the couch, snuggled upin blankets with each a mug in their hand. Adora seemed radiant with excitement at the prospect of exchanging gifts. Catra... not so much. Both of their presents were sitting on the couch table. Catra had to hold down a giggle because Adora was positively the worst giftwrapper in all humanity. Her gift looked like a 3 Year old wrapped it, or she just threw wrapping paper at it and tried to close it all with a huge amount of duct tape.

Yeah, that's probably what happened.

Catra looked at her own gift. She still felt bad about it, but there was no turning back now. Adora would certainly not break up with her over a silly gift, right?

Catra sighed. She wanted this to be over and done with.

She looked back at Adora who was bouncing on the couch with excitement. "I want to give you my gift first!" she said and with a speed, Catra didn't know she even possessed, Adora pushed her gift in Catras hand. Before she could even think about it, Adora said "Do not shake it Catra! I mean it. I don't want you to break it!" Catra just stuck out her tongue and laughed "Geez, Adora, I´m not gonna break it" she said while starting to unravel the present. When she was done she was holding a Polaroid camera in her hand. She just stared at it in shock. "So, do you like it?" Adora asked, suddenly sounding unsure " I saw it at this shop and you always take a lot of pictures with your phone so I thought why not a camera where you can have the picture instantly so you don't have to use your laptop all the-" Catra cut her off with a kiss. "Stop rambling Adora, it's perfect!" And it really was perfect, just like the Sweater Catra made for her.

Not.

Catra wanted to scream or run away. Or maybe both.

Why couldn't she come up with a better idea than some random sweater when she couldn't even knit properly. She looked at Adora again who just smiled lovingly. "So you like it? I'm glad!" She pointed at the other gift on the table. "May I?"

Catra wanted to say no, wanted to burn that wretched gift or throw it out the window but she just gave a defeated nod.

Well, here goes nothing.

While Adora unpacked that unholy thing, Catra took a sip from her hot chocolate.

I hope that's not the last time I drink Adoras hot chocolate...

"Did I .... gain a few pounds or why did you buy me a sweater 3 sizes too big?" Catra nearly choked on her drink. Adora looked at her with a questioning expression.

"WHAT?! No! No, you didn't! I'm just.." Disdain formed at Catra's face,

"..really bad at knitting."

Adora just gaped at her, mouth and eyes wide open and a look of wonder on her face. " So you did that yourself?! Like... yourself? Did you knit that? Oh my god, I didn't know you could knit!" Now Adora was full of laughter and held the sweater in front of her. Catra wished a gate to hell would open at her feet so she could jump into it. This was probably the most embarrassing moment of her life.

Adora must have realized Catras change in demeanour, so she quickly said "Oh no, Catra, it's perfect. This is undoubtedly the best gift I have ever gotten!" Catra raised an eyebrow at these words, not for a minute believing that they were true, especially because Adora was still having a laughing fit. But Adora's laugh was not demeaning or degrading, but sweet and benign and a few moments later they both sat on the couch, laughing so hard that there were tears on their face.

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

In the evening Catra, again, sat on the couch, while Adora was in the bedroom. They've just come home from the Christmas party at Glimmers and she was tired. All this mingling and conversing was so exhausting for her, but Catra still had a smile on her face.

Dancing with Adora had surely made up for it.

"Hey Catra"

Catra turned her head towards Adoras voice and stared at her. There she stood, wearing nothing but that large, ugly sweater. It was so big that Adora seemed to drown in it and there were holes where she seemed to have missed a few crochets. The right sleeve was actually nearly perfect length, while the left sleeve was at least 6 inches too long. The whole thing stopped just barely over her knees. Catra nearly had a hysteric laughing fit again. "Oh my god, it's even worse than I imagined it to be!" Adora rolled her eyes and walked towards the couch. "Stop it!" She shoved Catra to the left, nearly throwing her off the sofa, so she could sit beside her. "I actually like it. It's super comfy and you tried really hard and it was such a cute idea" Adora laid her head in the nook of Catras shoulder. Catra looked down at her and smirked. "Oh Adora, I'm always cute." Adora punched her softly and both started to laugh faintly.

"Catra?"

"Yeah?"

"Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas Adora"

A/N: So, I know, Christmas fic in the middle of May? But I needed Fluff? And I apologize if its a bit rough, but this is my first fanfiction ever? I wrote one when I was like 13 but then I never tried it again. So this is officially my best and worst work now.

Tell me if you like it and I appreciate if you guys got any suggestions on how to write better!

#shera #catra #adora #catradora #fanfiction #one shot #catra spop #adora spop #christmas #fluff #shera netflix #modern!au #adora x catra #she ra catra #glimmer #scorpia #She-Ra

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