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hogwartsfirebolt · 2 months

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the game’s the game

“What was going through your mind when you spotted the Snitch?”

Two camera shutters go off like lighting, but Draco doesn’t blink. It’s almost the end of the season, and he’s done a press conference every week. He’s used to them.

“Fucking finally,” he answers, and the journalists all laugh. They think he’s joking, and he can already imagine the articles they’ll publish tomorrow pronouncing him cheeky and funny, but he means it wholeheartedly. Six hours in the sky, drenched all the way through his pants in rainwater, and facing the very best player in the league? He had half a mind to jump off his broom if only to have the game end somehow.

“This is the second time you face PU and well, Harry Potter, this season,” says another reporter, a young, pretty woman with her hair pinned up and a reverent tone when she speaks Potter’s name. Like everyone. “Are you expecting to encounter him at this year’s Cup? And if so, how does that make you feel?”

Draco breathes out hard through his nose. Across the room from him, sitting at his own table against the wall opposite, Potter’s doing his own press conference. He’s wearing a hat backwards, the light blue of his team hoodie contrasting with his golden-warm skin tone. He has a hand to his chin, rubbing his short beard in thought at some question he’s being asked. Probably about just how sweet it had been to snatch that Snitch right from under Draco’s nose. He’s earnest and so gorgeous Draco can’t stand the sight of him.

“The game is the game,” Harry’s voice carries, clear and chesty, deeply masculine as he says his favorite little quote that means absolutely nothing and that fans have been yelling and tattooing on their bodies the whole season. “We don’t take any victory for granted. Coach has been running us to the ground, she won’t stop until we have that trophy in Puddlemere, and we’re doing our best to make her proud.”

“Oh, I’m certain we’ll face them at the Cup,” is what Draco answers at last. “Honestly? I think no other team comes even close. We’ll face them, and then we’ll bring the Cup home to Appleby. As Potter himself likes to say, the game is the game.”

All the cameras around him go off, the sound of Quick-Quills scrabbling and the reporters’ scandalized gasps at his use of Potter’s quote. He grins, puts his olive green Arrows cap on and stands to leave. He needs a fucking shower.

Later on, he’s sprawled on his hotel room couch, drying his hair with a towel and watching a replay of the game on the enormous television, making mental notes about his own flying, his mistakes, the times he dove too soon or hovered too low. When the screen follows the blue jersey with POTTER 7 emblazoned across the back, he looks closely, trying to spot mistakes but knowing he won’t find any. Potter’s probably the best flier of the century, and Draco loves Quidditch too much to lie to himself about that.

He’s admiring one of Potter’s physics-defying feints when there’s a knock on his door. Immediately, his heart takes up a gallop, and he has to press a hand to the center of his chest with a frown.

“Calm the fuck down, Malfoy,” he mutters. It’s a disproportionate reaction and he’s irritated with himself for it. It’s not as though it’s the first time. Or the tenth.

He pauses the game with a flick of his wand and makes his way to the door, through the archway that separates the TV room from the kitchenette. A quick look at the archway across the suite to make sure the bedroom is as he left it, and he’s at the door, taking a deep breath.

Potter’s grin is huge when Draco opens. He’s foregone all his team outwear, and is now in a familiar, worn leather jacket and a black sweater. His hair is wet, as though he rushed after his shower so he could get here quicker. Draco opens his mouth to say something, but before he figures out what, Harry pushes inside, turns around and presses him against the door, big hands gentle on Draco’s waist. Draco’s heart hasn’t gotten the “this isn’t the first or tenth time this happens,” memo, and is still running a marathon inside his chest, so he says nothing.

There’s a plastic bag in Potter’s hands. Dinner, probably, he usually brings dinner when they meet after a game. His wide smile reveals white teeth, a crooked canine that Draco knows is a baby tooth that never loosened. Round, stylish glasses cover the most intoxicating green eyes Draco has ever seen, and they’re shining with tonight’s victory. And Draco might be — definitely is — the world’s sorest loser, but he’s also the world’s biggest slut for Quidditch excellence, and he has it right here, holding him against his hotel room door.

“The game is the game?” Harry asks, amused, already leaning in, the hand on Draco’s waist moving to wrap the whole way around him and pull him close.

“Just some stupid phrase I’ve heard from a dickhead,” Draco answers, but the words hold the shape of a smile and are uttered right into a kiss there at the end.

It’s always a race at the start. They're both high from the game, still in that mindset, and it’s a competition to see who can undress quicker, who can make the other harder, who can earn the first moan and coax the first orgasm of the night. But after that first one, after Draco’s jaw aches dully and Potter is softening between his legs, everything slows down a little. Potter helps him up and they share the tacos Potter brought, watching the last minutes of the game they played earlier with Draco’s legs up on Potter’s lap, where he’s massaging his knees, his quads, making sure he’s not achy from kneeling for him.

“I really fucked that one up,” Potter comments. His tiny self on the screen just pulled out of an impossible dive at what looks like a 90 degree angle. He sounds earnest, which is the only reason Draco isn’t kicking him right in his beautiful face.

“I hate you so much. Only you would call that a fuck up.”

Potter hums, his massaging hands moving from Draco’s calf to his heel, his thumb pressing into his sole. On the screen, tiny Draco swerves a Bludger aimed to his head, and his teammate Owen is flying to him to make sure he’s alright.

“That guy is so into you,” Potter points out.

“I know. We fucked all through rookie year.”

Potter turns to look at him so fast it must hurt his neck. Draco raises an eyebrow, confused at the strong reaction.

“What?”

“I — I don’t know,” Potter says, suddenly sheepish. His hands haven’t stopped moving over Draco’s foot. Potter’s skin is dark, but Draco can still make out the blush spreading across his cheekbones. “Isn’t it weird? He’s a teammate.”

There’s something he’s not saying. It’s evident in the way he bites his bottom lip, in the way he obviously wants to look away but is too ridiculously brave to actually do it. Draco’s heart thumps inside his chest, so hard he’s sure it must be audible to Harry too.

They’ve never named this thing between them. The first time they did it, after the quarter finals one year before, with Potter’s ill advised kiss that ended with them fucking in the showers of the stadium after Potter had wiped the damn dust with Draco on the pitch, they agreed to keep it quiet, and that was the last they discussed of it. It’s going on fourteen months since then, and they’ve done it at least once a month, when the league brings them to nearby towns, and sometimes when it doesn’t and they take a quick midnight Portkey to each other to blow off some steam.

Draco had never in his life been as well-fucked as he’s been this past year, and he definitely doesn’t want to lose it. Potter’s always been honest and open with him, vocal in bed about how much he wants him, filthy in his occasional text messages when they’re apart, but he’s never given any indication that he wants anything other than exactly what they have.

“It’s not weird,” Draco says slowly, unsure of what to think of this exchange. “We stopped a while ago. I was clear that I didn’t want — that I’d rather we stayed friends and teammates, without any complications.”

“Right,” Potter says. He sounds relieved, and Draco feels like he’s three steps behind the conversation they’re having. He’s about to ask, but Potter’s fingers on his calf smooth over an old knot and he groans instead, letting his head fall back onto the couch cushion.

“That feels great,” he says, and Potter repeats the motion.

“Yeah. I think you pulled it when you made that X turn.”

The turn he made to try to beat him to the Snitch, he doesn’t say. How he had enough awareness to know Draco attempted it while diving for the Snitch himself is beyond comprehension, but Draco has long accepted that Potter is simply insane about the game. He notices everything, considers everything, takes every risk. If he weren’t a player himself, Draco knows he would be following Puddlemere and Harry wherever they played for the entire season, wearing a pale blue jersey with the number 7 on it.

“Probably,” Draco says, closing his eyes and groaning again when Harry keeps pressing the same point. After a moment, he feels something softer brushing his calf, and opens his eyes to find Harry bent over his leg, kissing a path up towards his knee. He can’t help the embarrassing little sound he makes, and Harry’s laugh is a puff against his skin as he keeps moving up, breath warm on the wet trail of his kisses up Draco’s thigh. In the background, the presenters are going crazy over a feint Harry pulled, the sound of the audience carrying all through the stadium and out of the TV speakers.

Harry has made his way high up and is kissing Draco’s birthmark, a brown, apple-sized beauty mark an inch below his groin when he lifts his head to ask, “Why didn’t you want to?”

Draco can’t believe he’s using his mouth to speak at that moment. He licks his lips, trying to make sense of the question.

“What? What are you even — ?” He tries to sit up a little, but Harry moves over him instead so they’re eye-level without Draco having to move at all.

“With Caddell. Why didn’t you want to keep seeing him?”

“Owen? Why the fuck are we talking about —,” Draco lets his head drop down onto the cushions again, a sigh punched out of him. Harry takes pity and leans forward to kiss him, lips soft over Draco’s, knowing exactly how to coax his kisses out of him the way he likes best.

“I just want to know,” Harry whispers against his lips. He’s breathless just from touching Draco, from rubbing his legs, from kissing him. Fuck, this is insane.

“I like him, but it wasn’t very exciting.” Draco says. He closes his eyes as Harry begins to kiss down his neck, and tries to really think about it, because he’s not even sure himself. “I wasn’t willing to risk our teamwork when what we had wasn’t even that … electric. I don’t know. This sounds insane.”

Harry shakes his head, his beard rubbing against Draco’s collarbone. “It doesn’t. I get it.” He bites on the delicate skin connecting neck and shoulder, licks a path down his chest. “I get electric.”

“Fuck yes you do,” Draco says, nonsensical, but he feels he can’t be blamed when Harry is brushing his lips over his nipples, broad hands moving around Draco’s body to secure a grip over his ass.

“Is this?” Harry asks, mouth nearing the V of Draco’s hips, the edge of the trail of hair leading to his crotch. “Electric?”

Draco swears, fingers running through Harry’s hair and finding a grip, hard. “If you don’t put your mouth on me right now I swear I — yes.”

He spreads his thighs to accommodate Harry between them, one hand gripping Harry’s hair and the other curled around the cushion over his head. It is electric, the way Harry knows exactly which buttons to push, sliding a finger inside him while keeping him on his tongue. He’s a prodigy in this too, the star player who knows every move in the playbook that is Draco’s body.

It feels like no time at all, no effort at all before Harry is pulling back, dragging Draco closer by the waist and working himself inside. The feel of it, the sound of them together, the look into Harry’s open gaze, his sweat dripping onto Draco’s chest and his hands underneath Draco’s back, holding him, pulling him onto him, have Draco nearing release almost too fast for his liking, but the night is young and it’s been so long that he lets himself go, a cord snapping in his core, eyes open as he watches Harry watch him come apart.

“Come on,” he says once he’s come down, lifting his hips, shifting his weight onto his shoulders. “Show me what you got, Potter.”

Harry groans and leans forward, kisses Draco’s jaw and his neck, and drives his hips faster. Draco wraps his arms around Harry’s back, moves with him as much as he can in the tight embrace, and remains close as Harry meets his own peak and tumbles down the edge.

They lie together for a couple minutes afterwards, panting into each other’s skins, basking in the afterglow.

“Some pro-athletes. We have the stamina of two eighteen year old virgins,” Draco mutters into Harry’s hair after a while, and feels Harry’s chest rumble with his laughter. The room is cast in the warm glow of the foot-lamp that stands beside the sofa they just fucked in, exactly like two eighteen year old virgins having the chance to touch for the first time in their lives.

Harry always goes boneless and slow after a good lay, so Draco eases him off his body with tenderness, a gentle hand to Harry’s chest, followed by a kiss.

“Let's go to bed, yeah?” He whispers.

Harry groans. “I don’t want to move.”

“That’s too bad, because I’m exhausted and I’m going to bed. Some idiot drove me to the ground on the pitch today.”

He stands up and shakes out his legs, testing the soreness of his muscles. There’ll be an ache tomorrow, but nothing he can’t handle.

Despite his complaint, Harry is already standing up too, coming up behind Draco, a hand finding its way to the flat of his belly, his forehead on Draco’s shoulder as though he can’t bear not to touch him for even a second.

“Bed it is,” he declares against the skin of Draco’s shoulder, sounding halfway asleep already. Draco huffs a laugh and pulls him towards the bedroom, pausing at the kitchenette to grab two glasses of water that he watches Harry drink in three gulps, a couple drops sliding down the sides of his mouth, into his beard and down his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“What?” He asks when he catches Draco watching him, and Draco shakes his head and pulls him to bed. He’s so handsome it’s genuinely upsetting sometimes. Draco thinks he’d throw a tantrum about it daily if it weren’t for the fact that he gets to touch him.

They try their best, but they don’t manage a second round before their eyes fall shut, tucked into each other like two hands cupped under a stream of water, tumbling into a satisfied, exhausted sleep.

Harry wakes him with a kiss before daybreak, the last of the night chilling the room and puckering Draco’s skin.

“Do you have to go already?” Draco asks, one eye still closed and a hand curled possessively around Harry’s bicep, not entirely on purpose.

Harry shakes his head, kisses him again with a gentleness that is meant to go nowhere but extend this kiss, warm and sweet.

“I thought we could talk.”

Draco is nodding before fully grasping the meaning, but even once he does he’s not tempted to back away. Must be the night, still cocooning them, must be Harry’s arms around him that are making him brave, but he’s not nervous anymore, not now that he’s remembered what they’re like, together.

“It is electric,” he says, suspecting that’s what Harry wants to talk about. “It’s always electric with you.”

The smile blooms slowly, lighting up Harry’s face from within, his beautiful eyes, unhidden this early in the morning, his glasses still on the bedside table. Harry sits up a little, clears his throat. It seems like he’s been gearing up for this, he’s squaring his shoulders the way he does before trying a dangerous feint, before performing a play that will have Draco biting dust. This insane, wonder of an athlete. Draco forces himself to shake the last of the sleep away, to focus on him, on what he wants to say.

“I know that … so many of us want you,” Harry starts. “On your team, on mine, the whole league, actually. But I —”

He looks like he’s stating an absolute truth, like he has irrefutable proof, and Draco is taken aback. He knows some of the guys find him attractive, but that’s not the same as being wanted. He shakes his head. “What? Where did you get that?”

“I’ve talked about it with the guys, but that’s not the point,” he adds hurriedly when he sees his eyes widen. Draco hasn’t said a word to anyone, not out of shame, but out of sureness that they were sneaking around, that they were making it a point to hide. Apparently, he was wrong. Harry continues, “What I want to say is … I know we’ve not agreed on anything, that you’re free to want others, be with whoever you want to be with. I thought that you knew where I stood, that if you weren’t saying anything it was because you didn’t want the same thing I did, but it’s been brought to my attention that if I’ve not made an honest offer, I can’t assume you’re saying no.”

Draco’s heart is hammering inside his chest, inside his throat. He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but if he’s right, it seems Harry is saying …

“I don’t want this to be a once a month thing. I want to bring you home, I want you to meet my family, and I want the guys to know that I’m saying no to all the people they set me up with because I’m taken and completely uninterested in anyone else. Are you … is that something you want, too? I know you might have better offers, but I – ”

The covers crinkle under Draco’s knees as he sits up, throws a leg over Harry’s body so he can fully sit on his lap and brings him forward by the neck.

“You beautiful idiot. What could be a better offer? Why would I care about any other offers when I have the best one right here?”

They’re kissing, and Harry’s gasping, and Draco’s frenzied heart pounds against his sternum. He nods into the kiss, feels dizzy with how much he wants what’s being offered. Fuck. There’s nothing he wants more.

Harry pulls back a little, whispers: “Does this mean we’re — ?”

“Yes, fuck. It’s — The game’s the game.”

“What — That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Shut up. It’s your quote.”

Then they’re laughing into a new kiss, and it’s not the first, or even the tenth time they’re together like this, but Draco’s heart still goes crazy for this man, for his unlimited talent, his openness, his electric company. Quarter finals are coming up, then semis, then they might meet again on the pitch and Draco might lose and throw a strop and want to tear the hair out of his head over the beautiful Quidditch Harry plays, and then they’ll get to go home and celebrate a victory. No matter who takes the trophy. That’ll be the game.

Read On Ao3

#quidditch rivals but ohh they’re secret lovers bet NOBODY saw that coming #kinda unsure about the tone shift at the end but ITS LATE I’m sorry ok #I just wanted earnest Harry which is MY FAVORITW THING #drarry #drarry fic #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #my writing #mywriting

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supernovafics · 5 months

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𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k words

warnings: explicit language, some mentions of alcohol, parent drama (both reader’s and steve’s parents suck)

summary: in which your parents and steve’s come over for dinner

author's note: this has absolutely nothing to do with the harry styles song but the title of it is just very fitting so yeah<33 i’ve been rewatching a lot of gilmore girls this fall season so i feel like that's helped me get the hang of writing awkward/tense dinners with family lol so this needed to be done

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Fall 1985

When your and Steve’s parents first suggested this “early Thanksgiving dinner,” you thought that it wouldn’t actually happen.

The initial idea sounded pretty funny to you— your parents and Steve’s parents would have a full on dinner at your apartment a week before the actual holiday. Yeah, right.

It sounded like the kind of idea that parents that really cared about spending time with their children would have, and that wasn’t how you’d necessarily describe yours or Steve’s.

A month ago, when they told you about the ski trip the four of them were going on during the entire week of Thanksgiving, you expected to just not see them probably until Christmas— and that felt like a bit of relief to you because spending time with your parents wasn’t your favorite hobby.

But then you remembered how, only during the holidays, your parents always had a need to show, or maybe more so “prove” to themselves, that they actually cared about you. So, of course, they wouldn’t let this stupid holiday go, and instead they thought that it would be best if you all did something early and together.

And sadly, none of the immediate excuses that you and Steve came up with worked because your moms had solutions for everything.

When you told yours that the kitchen in the apartment was too small to cook for this kind of elaborate dinner, she simply told you that they’d buy and bring all of the food and you and Steve wouldn’t have to cook at all. She also not-so-jokingly mentioned that she would’ve never trusted either of you two cooking anyway.

And when Steve told his mom that the current dining table you two had was way too small to fit all six of you, she promptly had one ordered and delivered to your door in just a week. It was an expensive dark wood set that could comfortably fit six people, and you and Steve spent hours struggling to build it the day it showed up at your front door. It took up an obscene amount of space, but it did actually look kind of nice.

Now it was weeks later and the dreaded night was finally here, but you still tried to come up with any way to avoid it from happening.

“And we’re sure that we really can’t get out of doing this tonight?” You asked Steve as you folded the blanket that was lying half-hazardly on the couch. “I could call my mom and say that we’ve somehow fallen tragically ill in the last hour?”

“I’m ninety-five percent sure that they’re all already on their way.”

“Shit.”

“It’ll be fine,” Steve said, and then he considered his words. “Actually, it will probably suck, but overall, we will be fine.”

You let out a sigh and placed the now folded blanket back on the couch and then started cleaning off the coffee table, stacking the random magazines in a neat pile and then adjusting Harold’s cage so that it was nicely in the center. Your and Steve’s shared pet hamster was currently nibbling on the food that you had put in his bowl only moments ago.

An abrupt feeling of worry shot through you as you looked around the apartment. The place was clean— probably the cleanest it had ever been— since you and Steve had spent the day doing everything to avoid either of your parents saying anything bad about the place. However, in the grand scheme of things, you knew that it didn’t matter because they’d still hate the apartment. They would hate how you two decided to furnish and decorate it, and they would passive aggressively make fun of the place for however long this dinner would have to be.

“Let’s try not to think about how bad this night is gonna be and just be glad that we’re not gonna have to suffer alone, like usual,” Steve said, practically reading your mind and the look on your face, as he started setting plates out on the new table.

He was completely right. This was the first time that a collective Thanksgiving was happening among all of you. Usually, it was just you alone with your parents in Chicago visiting family members that you never talked to, and Steve was doing the same exact thing except he was in Indianapolis. You’d always end up calling each other at the end of the night from the hotel or family house you were staying at, and you’d tell each other stories about whatever weird family members you encountered or how boring it all was.

It did make things feel a bit better that, for once, you didn’t have to go through this alone and neither did Steve.

“You’re right,” You said with a nod and then smiled. “We’ll be going through this shitshow together.”

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door and since Steve was closer he went to answer it. You took one brief and final look around the apartment before heading toward the door too, so Steve didn’t have to be by himself in this greeting.

“Hi,” He said when he opened the door and saw all of your parents standing there. There was a bright smile on his face and he effortlessly turned on that “Steve Harrington charm” that people had adored in high school— you hadn’t even gone to the same high school as him, but you still heard so many of the stories.

A chorus of Hi’s and Hello’s were heard as your moms entered the apartment first since they were carrying all of the food and your dads followed in right behind them.

“I still hate that you moved into a place that doesn’t have a front doorman, or, at least, a buzzer system,�� Were your dad’s first words to you; deciding against saying the simple “How are you?” that you had expected. “You two should get a better lock on your door.”

You laughed a bit. “We live in Hawkins, not New York, Dad. I don’t think anyone is really itching to rob us anytime soon.”

“Anything can happen,” He responded, looking at you seriously. “I’ll bring you a new one when we get back from Colorado.”

You only nodded at his words instead of saying anything to rebut them; you knew that he overall meant well. “Okay.”

Your attention turned to your mom and she pulled you into a hug that felt way too forced before pulling away and giving you a quick onceover. “Oh… Is that what you’re wearing?”

You thought that your outfit was fine; a V-neck navy blue knit sweater that was a bit cropped and a simple pair of black jeans. But, your mom always managed to find something wrong with everything, so this reaction to your current outfit didn’t necessarily surprise you; it did still annoy you all the same, though.

“Oh, um, no I was just about to change,” You told her and forced a small smile.

She nodded at that. “Okay, that’s good, that’s good. You go change while Christine and I get the table set up.”

You started heading toward your room but looked back at Steve first. He was in a conversation with his parents that looked like they were doing much more of the talking than him. As if sensing your gaze on him, his eyes met yours and he gave you a hopeful look and that was enough to make you feel a little better.

It didn’t take long for you to change. You kept your sweater on but traded your jeans for the long black silk skirt that your mom had always liked on you. You hoped this slightly different outfit would be enough to satisfy her, and if not, you were willing to suffer through her inevitable look of disappointment.

You lingered in your room, tidying up your desk for no particular reason and then deciding to remake your bed. It was clear that you were stalling, avoiding having to face your parents again, and as much as you wanted to continue doing that, you also didn’t want to leave Steve to fend for himself. You were supposed to be suffering together, after all.

You immediately noticed the dining table when you walked out of your bedroom. The food was now nicely set out and there were even brown placemats sitting underneath the plates that Steve had already set out. It was all set up in a way that would’ve felt nice and wholesome if either of your families had ever remotely felt like the ones portrayed in most TV shows or movies. But, they weren’t anywhere close to being like that, so this all just felt weirdly forced.

Of course, you didn’t say that, though.

Instead, you sat down with everyone at the table and desperately hoped that the next few hours of your life would breeze by.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“From the brochure, the pictures of the cabin look really great. We hope it actually looks that way in person,” Steve’s mom, Christine, said.

You took another bite of the mac and cheese on your plate as you continued to listen to your parents talk about their ski trip that was happening next week, which they had been doing for the last twenty minutes and you fully didn’t mind it. Since the conversation wasn’t centered on either you or Steve, things actually didn’t feel tense or nervewracking. If you could just make your parents talk about themselves during the entire dinner, you would probably end the night with a smile on your face.

“Oh, and there are a lot of bedrooms too,” Your mom chimed in before taking another sip from the wine glass in her hand. “Maybe you two could take a trip up there soon and invite your friends to go too.”

“Yeah, that would be nice,” You said with a small nod.

“Enough talking about the trip, though, that’s probably so boring for your kids to hear about,” Your dad said, and you internally sighed because you knew the exact direction the conversation was about to go in. You felt him look at you. “How’s school been going? The semester is almost over.”

“It’s been good,” You answered, keeping your response short and sweet. You decided not to mention that you really couldn’t care less about the majority of your classes because none of what you were doing in any of them felt like it really mattered.

“Okay, and your grades and everything are fine, right?”

You only nodded in response to his question, hoping that your lack of actual words would signal to him that you wanted to bring an end to this topic of conversation. Of course, that was only wishful thinking.

“That’s good,” Your mom said. “You have to make sure your grades stay like how they were in high school, or even better, for when you transfer to the University of Chicago. We don’t want to have any reason for them not to accept you again.”

You suddenly felt like you were right back in middle school and high school, where your conversations with your parents solely revolved around school; what your grades were, if you were doing your homework and completing assignments on time, and studying for tests. It always annoyed you that the only times they would bother to pay attention to you was when it came to that stuff. Other than that, you were always seemingly an afterthought, never a bigger priority than their jobs.

In a way, this entire conversation should’ve been expected; it was always inevitable. Pretty much anytime you talked to your parents in recent months, the discussion always seemed to circle its way back to that school and you going there in two years instead of right now, like they had wanted you to.

“I’m still so surprised that you decided to not go to the University of Chicago now,” Christine said and you turned your attention to her. It was starting to feel a bit painful to you that the subject still hadn’t changed yet. “When Steve told me that you were going to go to the community college close by, I couldn’t believe it, honestly.”

You noticed your parents share a look upon hearing her words. The mix of disappointment and annoyance toward you that was shared between them in that moment felt palpable.

“I didn’t think it was time to leave Indiana just yet. I’ll be going soon, though,” You said, keeping your voice light and plastering on a fake smile, even though all you wanted to do in that moment was leave the table and hideout in your bathroom for the rest of the night.

You saw your dad smile a little and then you also noticed the look of relief wash over your mom’s face. For some stupid reason, you still felt the need to make them feel pleased with you. And somehow that made you feel even more upset with yourself than anything they had said to you so far tonight.

The only thing that managed to make things feel remotely tolerable right then was Steve sitting across from you, giving you a look that said, “Everything will be okay.” For the time being, you chose to believe him and you simply took another bite of your food.

You were about to say something about how good the turkey was so your moms would start talking about the restaurant they got all of the food from and why they chose it— you were sure that there was some story behind it all— and that would finally bring an end to the college conversation. But, before a word could leave your mouth, Steve’s dad began speaking.

“Well, at least, you’re in college. We can’t say the same for Steve here.” He then looked at his son. “Do you really want to work at a video store for the rest of your life?”

Christine let out a sigh. “Jeff.”

“What?” He shrugged as if his previous question wasn’t completely condescending. “I’m just asking a question.”

“I’m actually starting at the community college next semester,” Steve told his parents and you tried to hide your immediate confusion. “I found out I got in a few days ago.”

“Well, that’s great,” Christine said happily, and Jeff smiled approvingly as well.

You had no idea Steve had gotten in or even applied, and you wondered if he was lying right then to just get his parents off his back, but you couldn’t tell. Something about the way he said it honestly felt pretty real. The only part that didn’t feel real was that you were finding out during this dumb dinner instead of at any other time.

“So, I was wondering,” Your mom began and you braced yourself for the impact of whatever she was going to say. “Why did you two decide to get a hamster? I feel like it makes things smell a bit funny in here…”

A part of you was glad that the conversation finally shifted away from college. But you didn’t think that the passive aggressive comments toward the apartment would begin with Harold.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Well, this night was fucking brutal.”

You let out a sigh. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”

Steve was doing the dishes as you put what was left of the food into tupperwares and then put them in the fridge. Surprisingly, it was a lot of stuff leftover; your moms definitely went overboard with the amount they had ordered. You and Steve already made plans to invite Robin and Eddie over tomorrow to have some of these leftovers.

“I’m actually glad that the dessert tasted bad since it made them want to leave early.”

“It was honestly a bit bittersweet because I was kind of excited for that pie,” You said as you placed the final tupperware of food into the fridge and then went over to Steve. “Oh, and also,” You punched his arm and ignored his immediate “ouch.” “Why the hell didn’t you tell me that the stars have finally managed to align and we’ll finally be going to the same school for the first time ever?”

He smiled a little at your dramatics. “I didn’t wanna make a big deal out of it just in case I somehow didn’t end up getting in. I swear I was gonna tell you tomorrow.”

“So, you did all of that annoying application stuff by yourself?”

“Robin helped me with it.”

“I would’ve been happy to help you,” You told him, and maybe you were being a bit overdramatic, but you actually felt slightly offended that he hadn’t wanted to come to you about this.

The possibility of you two going to the same middle or high school was a far out idea that never happened because you lived in different towns. But, it was still something that was adamantly and wistfully talked about by you and him; how much more fun both of your school lives could be if they intersected in that way like the other parts of your lives did.

Of course, going to the same college would’ve been the most obvious way for it to finally happen, but Steve never seemed that interested in going to college, and up until the last possible second you were being pushed toward Chicago by your parents.

But now things were finally different.

“I know that you would’ve, but I didn’t want to talk about it to anyone, honestly. Robin saw me working on the application one day and decided to help,” He explained and you only gave him a small nod in response. “I didn’t even think I’d tell my parents about it, but when I heard my dad’s dumb comment about Family Video I felt like I had to say it so he wouldn’t keep looking at me like a disappointment.” He sighed. “And it’s kinda fucked up… I really don’t wanna care what my parents think about me and what I’m doing with my life, but I think there will always be a part of me that does.”

You thought back to your dad’s approving smile and your mom’s relieved look when you reassured them that you still planned to go to the University of Chicago; how much you still wanted to make them feel at least a little proud of you even though you knew you shouldn’t.

“Me too,” You said softly.

“I’m glad we probably won’t have to see them again until Christmas.”

You sighed. “Apparently, my dad is gonna bring us a new lock for the door when they get back from their trip.”

“Oh,” Steve said and then smiled at you when it looked like he thought of something. “Okay, what are the odds that he’ll just send someone to put the new lock on the door instead of coming himself?”

You thought about it for a second. “Honestly, I’d say there’s a pretty good chance that would happen. He’ll probably be too busy with work after the trip to actually come and do it himself.”

“Okay, let’s hope for that,” He said as he finished washing the last plate and placed it on the drying rack. “So, since the dessert was a bust tonight, do you wanna go to the diner? I’m sure Mary would never fuck up her apple pie. And then when we get back, we can finish that bottle of wine that our moms left.”

You smiled at his suggestion. “You have a brilliant mind, Harrington.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington #steve harrington series #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader smut #stranger things imagine #stranger things series

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comfortless · 5 months

Text

Outside they say you’re alright (chapter 1 of ?)

🌱 PAIRING: König x fem!reader 🌾 CONTENT: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. fae au. blanket warning for death, violence, very light horror elements <— comes with the territory; all of this being said it’s still cozy and sweet here!!, not even remotely canon compliant, slow burn, eventual smut. chapter specific warnings: animal death (bird), implied ghoap, minor character death (but not really, hold tight!), non-consensual cuddling. 🍃 NOTES: this is my first time writing in a long stretch, but after finishing Meeting the Other Crowd i had to write this lest i wound up chewing thru my own fist. later chapters may have additional warnings added. not proofread. wc: 7.9k

next ->

The season of turning leaves, of the harvest moon, of a waning veil; it feels as though the entire world calls for change. Packing to move feels less arduous when the very earth is moving along with you, shifting her shape to bring in the autumn, the winter. Autumn feels less intense in the city. Concrete and vehicles don’t naturally shed their skins, hibernate, bed down and cozy up by a warm hearth. There’s a significant lack of trees and wildlife, all uprooted and shed away to make room for more human comforts. It’s never felt like home to you.

It’s almost funny how in your desperation to be untethered from an unwelcoming, pristine and metallic skyline, you’ve managed to neatly pack away your entire life into a mere two bags. Everything that wasn’t utterly necessary or sentimental donated or tossed into the garbage behind your former apartment. You know it’s a silly thing to believe a new roof over your head in an unfamiliar town a few hours venture away will change your entire life, but just as the leaves turn you feel it’s your moment to follow suit.

Kate hadn’t made you pay anything in advance. No deposits, no frivolous faxing of paperwork, Kate had requested nothing but email correspondence, and perhaps that should have set off some instinctual alarm bell in your head. Yet, you had been in contact with this woman for weeks, and you hadn’t picked up on anything odd in the eloquent responses Kate had given. The woman answered all of your questions with ease, and even had the decency to ask if there was anything she could do to make the move more bearable.

You found Kate’s listing on craigslist of all places— a humble little ad showing off a barren room in a small cottage located in the middle of nowhere, some mountainside town down south that you had never heard the name of prior. It was impulse that led you to reach out, typing out a sloppily worded email in the midst of another sleepless night expressing your interest in the room and a few words about yourself. Kate didn’t waste any time with her response, declaring that she felt you would fit in well in the home and things progressed naturally. You had decided that you liked Kate already.

But nothing could have prepared you for actually meeting Kate Laswell.

As you park your little, beaten down sedan in the forested driveway, you takes a moment to calm your nerves. A six hour drive has left you feeling as though you’re in an entirely different world— around the midway point in your journey was the last time you had actually seen a town. There’s a sense of apprehension building, and yet it does little to fully snuff out the excitement.

The cottage laid out before you is off-white in color with a grayish-brown roof, blanketed by tendrils of hedera helix curling up each corner of the home and meeting in a cluster on the roof. The fence surrounding the property, wooden and worn seemed more decorative than any protection against anything getting in or out. ‘Quaint’ was the only word that seemed to come to mind as you step out of the vehicle and move to the trunk to collect your meager belongings.

And as the trunk of the vehicle slams shut, you’re met with the sight of a gentle-looking woman sprinting toward you from the cottage, a bright, welcoming smile on her face and an oversized yellow cardigan draped ‘round her shoulders. “So glad you made it,” Kate greets warmly. “Need help with your bags?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Didn’t bring much.” You reply, and for the first time in months, you feel your heart begin to settle in your chest. This was good. The stress of the city seemed to retract its claws from your shoulders the moment you take a good look at Kate and the cottage behind her. The woman is older, soft lines visible on her face. She was fragile looking like a twittering little bird, but there was something in her eyes that suggested she was much more than her stature. Maybe not a robin at all, but a red-tailed hawk instead. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and the clothing she wore looked comfortable, a loose fitting white blouse, jeans, and the cardigan you wonder if she may have even knitted herself.

“Well, come in then. We’ll get you settled and have tea, or whiskey if you would prefer it.” Kate says with a wink, taking you by the hand and pulling you up the gravel-laden trail towards the door. Sparrows are nesting in the trees above, clover, sourgrass and wildflowers springing up in a viridian and brown blanket beneath your feet, and the dirt feels far more forgiving against the soles of your boots than the pavement of the city ever did. This already feels like home. “Just tea would be fine.”

Kate shows you around the cottage with pride, and you find that it’s entirely deserved. The home is immaculately tidy, albeit a tad cluttered. The woman had all sorts of strange baubles and crafts lining walls and shelves, books of all nature (even an extensive romance section you had found yourself drawn to, Kate had laughed at the sight of your eyes lingering on the spines as you read the suggestive titles), her furniture was all clean and patterned. Your room nearly brings you to tears. It was still rather empty, just as the pictures in the listing had suggested, with only a bed, dresser and vanity furnishing it. However, in the windowsill sits a blue planter with your name delicately painted on the front of it.

“A lily,” Kate informs you, smiling soft as you gaze down at the little green bulb in the pot. You ghost your fingertips over the rim of it as you tilt your head to look back at Kate, both confusion and gratefulness painting your expression. Kate’s smile doesn’t waver as she steps to your side and gives your shoulder a comforting squeeze. Her kindness has already made you trusting, and it seems with every action she takes you feel more at peace, as though Kate were merely an estranged aunt rather than a complete stranger. “I thought a lily might suit you. It might still be early enough for her to bloom.” You whisper a thanks, returning her smile with one of your own. The thoughtfulness of such a simple gesture warms your heart in a way that you hadn’t felt in some time. You make a mental note to read up on plant care to ensure Kate’s gift doesn’t go neglected.

She waits to lead you into the kitchen and dining area until after you had put away your things and have properly seen your room. The rooms are just as well cared for as the rest of the cottage, every item in its proper place, the sink cleared and a knitted doily placed in the center of the range. The table is what catches your eye most of all though— a fat loaf of fresh baked bread placed carefully on a platter next to small serving dishes filled with honey and jam, a tea kettle and two floral painted mugs set neatly just beside the display. It looks more like a painting than any meal you’ve seen before, far too accustomed to quick snacks and dull fast food bags. In the city, working so much just to ensure that you still had your apartment to come back to, the time it would take to prepare something even as simple as this was never something you could expend.

“This looks… it’s lovely, Miss Laswell,” You breathe out shyly, taking a seat at the table, your fingers flexing slightly. This kind of welcoming felt so foreign, not that you minded it. Not at all.

“Please just call me Kate.” She says with a laugh, pouring out a generous mug of tea for you and sliding it across the table as she takes place on the opposite end. Her smile is infectious, warming your heart and causing the corners of your mouth to tug upward, too.

“Kate.” You say aloud, committing it to memory. You wanted to be respectful. This was her home, you were just a temporary guest after all. You accept the mug of tea with a thankful nod of acknowledgement before taking a small sip. Warm. Everything about Kate’s home and her demeanor is so warm. Even in the midst of autumn, there’s no chill here, only tenderness and warmth as though some invisible hearth roars in the corner of every room. “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me.”

Kate hesitates for a moment, and had you blinked you would have missed the way her thin shoulders seemed to tense and the lines at the corners of her mouth visibly tightened. She parts her lips to speak, eying you carefully before… she merely reaches across the table to slice you off a plump helping of the bread, scooting the bowls of jam and honey in your direction.

You wonder if somehow your words had offended her, and you wished you could retract them, snatch the fluttering of your voice from thin air, but as quickly as that thought comes, Kate sighs.

“Well, I haven’t been entirely upfront with you, dear,” Kate begins in a soft voice, tilting her head as she sips her own tea. Your eyes widen in surprise at her words, uncertain as to what weight they carry. Your thoughts immediately veer in the worst direction— perhaps she wasn’t offering the room as long as the listing stated, and you had no where else to go. Perhaps someone else lived here too, someone dangerous.

“What do you mean?”

“The neighbors come around sometimes.” She says, and it almost pulls a giggle from you. Neighbors? You hadn’t seen any other homes on the way up here, and having lived in an apartment complex you were used to all manner of folks, from the loud, the strange, the elderly and standoffish. You give her a little shrug in response, unsure of what to say to such a silly thing.

“You’ve just got to understand how to deal with them if you see them,” Kate continues, her mouth pressed to a thin line as she regards you. There’s that sharp look in her eye that suggests she really isn’t kidding around, that there may even be a threat if you didn’t hold what she says next with the highest regard. You feel a swell of unease, but give the woman your rapt attention, not even bothering with the bread on your plate despite the way your stomach grumbles, quiet but demanding. “Don’t eat their food, never give them your name. Don’t thank them either, even if you break your ankle on a hike and one stops to help. No thanking them.”

You laugh. This had to be some silly joke, harmless hazing for the new roomie. Your mirthful giggles die in your throat when you meet Kate’s gaze again and her expression is entirely grave— gone was the soft smile and the twinkle in her eyes, and you’re quickly reminded as to why you thought of a hawk when you first saw that look in her eye.

“Kate… I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

She toys with the handle of her mug for a moment, watching as if to ensure your amusement has entirely died out before she graces you with another word. “Dear, I know I sound like I have bats in the belfry, but I need you to listen to me.” A heavy sigh leaves her lips after her words and her brow pinches as if she’s trying to consider the best possible way to explain this farfetched idea of her neighbors to you in a way that’s easy enough to digest without giving too much away. “Perhaps meeting one of them would be the best way to show you.” She mumbles as she sets her mug aside and stands from her chair. You remain dumbstruck in your seat, watching as she pulls her yellow cardigan tighter around herself before fumbling around in the kitchen to retrieve a small woven basket. Kate places two thick slices of bread inside and the little dish of honey too as you watch on.

“Sure.” You say with a quizzical tilt of your head. You didn’t want to insult your new roommate further, and she seemed deadly serious about this strange concept. Maybe it was best to appease her, and meeting other folks that lived out here didn’t seem like too arduous a task. Kate flashes you that smile again as you agree and offers the basket out to you. Your fingers curl around the stiff handle as you stand and bring it closer to your person.

“There’s a little walking trail out back that leads straight up the hill to the cemetery. Ghost should be there.”

“Ghost?” A ghost in the cemetery. How fitting.

Kate breathes a laugh and shakes her head. You’re pleased to see the tension has left her, she seemed at ease and just as sweet as she had when she rushed to greet you earlier. “Not really a ghost,” she explains with a dismissive wave of her hand. “You’ll see. He’s a bit… prickly at times, but he’s harmless enough. Just take him the bread and you’ll see.” Harmless, you want to tell her, is what most people should be expected to be without graceful description. ‘Are the others harmful, then?’, your mind supplies, as if trying to make you feel closer to a side character in some low budget horror film. Something was certainly off here, but you don’t find yourself questioning it further.

Kate leads you to the back door, unlatching a chain lock before unlocking the deadbolt and pushing the door open. The hinges whine as she directs you toward the trail with a pointed finger. And, with an encouraging pat on the shoulder, she pushes you out of the door. You can hear the tinkling of the chain and the thump of the deadbolt as she locks it behind her. You don’t know whether to side more with the anxiety building in your chest or the frustration burning at your stomach after finding yourself in this situation. So maybe Kate did have ‘bats in the belfry’ as she had called it. What woman would have invited a complete stranger to come live with her in the middle of no where, after all. But this was only your first day here, and you knew you had to make the most of it. Where else could you possibly go?

At least she was nice. The tea had been perfect, too. With a sigh, you decide to overlook her eccentricities for now as you start walking towards the trail. Your pace is brisk, orange and red fallen leaves crunching with each step as you meander up the thin, forested trail. The chill of an autumn breeze pushes through the trees with ease, shaking a flurry of dead leaves from dark branches to whirl around you, one landing gently on the shoulder of your coat. You pluck it off, twirling the stem between the fingers of your free hand as you walk.

The cemetery comes into view about half an hour later. The peaks of moss covered tombstones rise up over the hill, and you’re surprised to find that the old graveyard isn’t entirely overgrown. Some thorn bushes border the backside of the small clearing, trees towering so high to either side it almost roofs the area in entirely apart from a center circle where sunlight beams in. It’s quiet apart from the splintering of leaves beneath your soles and it dawns on you that you haven’t heard a sound not pulled from your own being since you started your short journey here.

You look around for this supposed ‘Ghost’ for a few moments, scanning both behind and above the tombstones. There’s nothing and no one to be seen, just a heavy silence and carpeting moss over stone that hasn’t been touched in what looked like centuries. You didn’t want to return too soon for fear of Kate not taking too kindly to it, you couldn’t run the risk of being cast out, even if the thought of her doing such a thing already felt uncharacteristic and outlandish.

So, you kneel in front of a larger headstone, fishing out a slice of bread from the basket and smoothing honey over it with the butter knife Kate had placed inside. The engraving was entirely illegible, worn away by the elements, and with so much moss encompassing it you doubt you could have read it anyway even if it hadn’t been so neglected. The bread, still warm and soft is nibbled at as you inspect some of the other graves, all in the same state of disrepair. A part of you wishes you had plucked some wildflowers on the walk, perhaps you could have given some restless spirit the satisfaction of not being forgotten.

A clipped ‘woof’ pries you from your thoughts, a deep and breathy sound that sends a chill down each bony knob of your spine as you whip around to face whatever had made the noise. You’re met with the view of a massive dog standing a mere three meters away. The animal’s fur was a coarse, wiry black, it’s eyes just as dark. It regards you with its ears flattened back against its skull, dark lips pulled back in a snarl, though it doesn’t growl. In fact, the creatures tail betrays this display of intimidation as it wags lazily behind it.

You break a corner of the bread off and extend your hand out to the dog, cooing softly to it and encouraging it to approach. The dog huffs, ears flicking forward. It watches you for several long moments before stiffly walking towards you, accepting the bread into its large mouth and swallowing it down without so much as a courtesy chew. Up close, you can’t discern what breed of dog this is at all. His ears were long and floppy, descending down past his maw, his hair looked stiff and rough almost like a wolfhound’s but it was much shaggier, longer.

“Good boy.” You chirp, reaching up to lightly ghost your fingers over the crown of the dog’s skull. The dog recoils with another huff, and for a moment you almost think you see his eyes narrow as if he were glaring at you— a silent ‘do not touch’. Your hand retreats and you mutter an apology out to the creature. The dog doesn’t move, standing still as a statue as it watches you fiddle with the handle of the basket and rise to your feet.

So, no Ghost, but you did meet a dog. That would have to do for now. You were exhausted from the drive, and more than anything you wanted to be in the warmth of a building, away from the volatile breeze and the eerie silence of the graveyard.

“Wait.” A voice rasps as you turn back to the trail. Everywhere and no where at once it comes and the feeling that arrives with it, so peaceful yet uncanny. Just like before, you don’t hear the dog approach, but you feel the cold of a wet nose press against your palm. His mouth opens, grazing your fingertips with his teeth as you whip your head around to look down at the creature, eyes wide and brows raised in shock. What?

You wrench your hand away from the dog, uncertainty sending a violent shiver down your spine. Surely the animal couldn’t’ve …

“F’me, wasn’t it?”

It’s not your mind playing tricks from the emptiness of the graveyard.

The dog spoke, rough and deep and accented.

The creature’s tail wags languidly behind him as he stares up at you expectantly, big paws placed firmly in a moss bed below with long, black claws curved into it.

“P-pardon?” You manage to breathe out, voice tight as your chest rises and falls rapidly with shallow, panicked breaths. This was impossible, you knew it. As a child you had spent countless hours trying to get your childhood pet to utter a single ‘I love you’ to no avail, and yet this dog before you seemed to find human speech as simple as inhaling or flicking his ears. The dog huffs, his dark eyes rolling, and you realize the animal does not simply speak, it finds you amusing too.

He noses at the basket, sniffling deeply at the food within before peering up at you in silent demand. You part your lips in a small ‘o’, lowering the basket to the mossy floor. The dog doesn’t spare you another glance as his tongue lolls out to lap at the dish of honey and draw the bread between rows of hungry teeth. He eats quickly and with all the grace of any normal canine, crumbs dotting the fur surrounding his mouth as he raises his head to regard you.

“You just… you spoke to me?” You question, your knees wobbling in surprise. Perhaps if he didn’t have the look of a cute dog, you would have been more fearful. “You talk?”

The dog tilts his head before sniffing at your boot for a moment only to raise his head back as he settles onto his haunches. The animals ears perk up, still flopping at the ends, almost covering his dark eyes.

“You smell like Kate.” He speaks, but his mouth doesn’t move. In fact, his entire body remains rigid and still, a graveyard statue blessed with the breath of life.

Something clicks as his words register. This isn’t just some extraordinary talking dog, this was the Ghost Kate had mentioned. Your eyes finally relax, there’s no more look of surprise, there’s no more unease. Having a talking dog for a neighbor seemed so much better than dealing with Mr. Thomson, stumbling back into the apartment complex after a long night drinking, singing his curses to the city, to the world itself.

Ghost was just fine.

Emboldened by this sudden realization, you reach out to the dog again. “Ghost,” you say with a hint of a smile. “You’re awful cute, aren’t you?” A giggle escapes you as you see he’s not moving away this time, but diligently sniffing at your hand. The dog pauses after a moment, flashing a hint of teeth at you. It’s not aggressive, you realize. Perhaps, he’s not the best with people.

“An’ you’re awful chummy, girl.” The dog snorts, turning his head away indignantly. So this one had a bit of an attitude, you let it roll off the shoulder. Surely he would warm up, talking or not, most stray dogs had a tendency to. You retract your hand and collect the empty basket and the dog gives you a slight nod in approval.

“I’ll walk ya back.”

— — —

The walk back to Kate’s cottage felt longer than the hike up to the graveyard. Ghost didn’t seem very keen on talking to you, despite his offer to escort you home. He padded in front of you with hurried steps, only circling back to nip at your heels every now and then if he felt you were trailing too far behind him. You didn’t yet know that there were other eyes in the forest observing the two of you. Each time a branch snapped behind or to either side of you, or when footsteps or laughter could be heard some distance away, Ghost would dart behind you to mouth at the leather of your boot with a low growl to keep you from looking at anything apart from the roof of the cottage as you approached.

After the third bite, with the cottage in full view you finally stop in your tracks, reaching down to ruffle his ears. “Why do you keep doing that?” You ask, an air of annoyance to your tone as you note the indents of fangs in your boots— the only pair of shoes you had even brought with you, already covered in drool and bite marks by some magical dog you hardly knew.

Ghost snorts, dark eyes locked on your face as he circles back around you. “You’ve got lead in your head or your shoes girl, which is it?”

You puff your cheeks in a slight pout, half a mind to knock his fuzzy head with the basket in your hands. “Neither,” you mutter, carrying on towards the cottage. “Stop biting me.”

Ghost shakes his shaggy head, opting to press his mouth to your hand in a silent order to get you moving again. You oblige, leaving the dog behind as you make it to the back door of the small house. You knock once, and already hear the sounds of the locks unlatching just beyond the wooden door. The door swings open, and Kate stands there in silence. face paled.

Ghost lets out a low bark somewhere behind you as you wave him off. Kate smiles broadly at the dog before turning to look at you just as he scampers back up the trail, no doubt back to the graveyard he had appeared in.

“I apologize, dear,” she breathes out, ushering you back inside. She looks incredibly apologetic as she takes your shoulders and turns you around to face her. Her tone remains a cross between stern and reassuring, and you feel a swell of guilt, almost like you should be comforting her rather than the opposite.

You explain to her that Ghost didn’t frighten you, and she settles immediately, a sigh of relief leaving her lips. You return the basket to its proper place, stored on a shelf high up in the pantry as you tell Kate about your interaction with the strange, talking graveyard dog.

“Sounds like he likes you.” Kate responds followed with a soft laugh. You notice she’s cleared the table of breakfast, only neatly crocheted doilies in place of where the two of you had sat earlier that morning. “He wouldn’t speak to me the first day we met.”

You shake your head in protest, gesturing towards the marks from his teeth in your boot. “He bit me!” You whine, earning another laugh from Kate. You crouch down to untie your boots, pulling them off of your feet, the woman kneels next to you and pries the boots from your hands with gentle, aged hands. She runs her thumb over the indentations with a hum.

“I should be able to fix them.”

“Really?”

Kate nods, standing to her feet and offering you her free hand. You take it, straightening yourself out. The room smells of lemongrass and lavender, the flickering glow of a large candle placed neatly on a side table housing a few choice pieces of fine china.

You watch as Kate takes your boots to her room, no doubt where whatever supplies she deemed useful enough to fix them lay in wait. She returns roughly a half hour later with them graciously repaired, and you’re uncertain of how she’s managed such a feat to the extent she has— no more indentations, no scuffs on the leather. They look new, something you haven’t seen since the day you purchased them.

You thank her graciously with a little bow of your head and you and Kate fall into a comfortable conversation. She tells you that there are many others like Ghost, that some of them look human but aren’t, that some are no more than groaning shadows or looming abysses of fur and sharp claws. Kate diligently reiterates her rules from earlier, and though you weren’t quite sure you believed her entirely about the dangers of these ‘neighbors’, you nod along enthusiastically.

“So, if Ghost is just a dog, why doesn’t he live here? With you? Winter gets cold in places like this,” you breathe out, seated on the opposite end of the floral patterned loveseat next to Kate.

“Oh? He didn’t show you then.” Kate laughs. She’s brewed another kettle of tea and she dispenses the amber fluid between two mugs. “I suppose he didn’t want to frighten you off, but he’s no dog.”

Your eyes widen, and you’re uncertain as to why Kate’s words fill you with dread, a cold spike through the chest that sends a shiver down each ridge of your spine. Ghost hadn’t hurt you, of course. He didn’t even seem to be entertaining any idea other than eating and walking you home. Maybe a bit pushy, but otherwise a proper gentle…dog. Your head tilts, wordlessly asking Kate to fully explain what Ghost may have been hiding.

“He’s a big guy,” is all she says as she takes a long sip from her tea. You open your mouth to speak again, but all of a sudden the scent of tobacco fills your lungs, swirls around the entire room as though it was emanating from the walls itself. You stifle a cough with your palm pressed flat against your lips and Kate laughs. Yet, as you glance about the den, you see no one else. Paranoia? But Kate seemed to have smelled it too. “Not me, dear.” She says quietly.

“… what are they?” You question, voice wavering. The scent of tobacco seems to grow stronger then dissipate after a few moments only to return.

“The good folk,” comes Kate’s immediate reply as she stands, clapping her palms against her thighs with an exasperated sigh. She tilts her head to look down at you with a small smile. “This one’s nice enough, too. Don’t worry.” Despite the waves of scent that drift in and out of the room, nothing else seems to appear. With everything that’s happened today, a part of you expects to meet with a sentient cigarette at Kate’s words, but… nothing.

— — —

As the days pass, you and Kate fall into a sort of routine. The woman will tell you the most unbelievable things with a smile on her face, and you find almost too quickly that everything she says is true. This place feels holy in a sense. It’s no church, but things of myth seem to embedded themselves into the walls, singing like a choir in the dead of night. You swear you hear Kate talking to someone some nights, a man’s voice booming through the cottage. They share laughs and the scent of a cigar ebbs and flows, but every time you’ve tried to steal a peek at this visitor, he seems to vanish the moment you step out of your room. Maybe you would think him rude if you knew for certain he existed at all.

Your mind tends to play tricks after the stress of leaving behind everything you knew, uprooting your entire life to come here. On the second day, you lose your car keys. You had placed them on your nightstand and you knew it, but the following morning they were no where to be found. On the third night, you wake up on your side in bed, the sound of someone breathing deeply behind you sending a swell of dread from the base of your neck down to the heels of your feet. Sleep paralysis, you tell yourself, but you knew you had pulled the blanket a bit tighter around yourself when it happened, stealthily tried to move your foot to see if you could feel anyone. You could move, it had been real.

It’s on the fourth day that your heart sinks in your chest. You wake to morning light flooding through the curtains, the chirping of birds in the willow just outside of your window. As you sit yourself up and wipe at your eyes with the meat of your palms, you realize the potted lily Kate had gifted to you is gone. Plants don’t just get up and walk, using their leaves to tug up their pots as if it were trousers as they saunter away on thin, wiry root legs. You feel like your sanity is slipping when you check the window and realize it’s still locked. Even though the lily was just a plant, you feel a sense of grief at the fact you couldn’t find it anywhere— not beneath the bed, in any drawer, the closet or… anywhere in the cottage.

You finally give in and decide to ask Kate, to which she explains that this event isn’t uncommon. You expected her to be upset (with what you believed to be your own irresponsibility), but she remains kind as always, tells you it will turn back up when you least expect it and ushers you to the kitchen to prepare breakfast with you, coffee, omelettes and bowls filled with blackberries.

“You could try asking Ghost,” Kate offers, “He seems fond of you, perhaps he took it.”

You bite back the urge to ask her how a dog could have possibly broken into your room and stolen a potted plant. The very image of it seemed silly, a beast like him biting down on the clay pot to, what? Haul it off to rest it atop some long-forgotten soul’s grave? Instead, you toy with the eggs on your plate, still feeling a bit strange about the entire ordeal.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Don’t be afraid,” the woman speaks up again. The expression on her face, oddly sheepish, doesn’t suit her well. A silent ‘don’t leave’ buried beneath her words, written clear as day in the sullen look in her eyes.

The trek to the graveyard feels heavier this time around. The dog isn’t what has your skin crawling, it’s the ever-present feeling that something just beyond your field of view is lying in wait, eyes trained solely on your form. You swear you can feel a puff of breath on the back of your neck a time or two, almost causing you to trip over a cluster of fallen pine cones and other forest debris. It’s silent, as always, and as much as your eyes scan through fallen leaves and bent branches, you can’t make out the sight of anything scampering about, not so much as a squirrel or a proud cardinal. It’s strange how empty a place teeming with life can feel at times when something lurks coaxing the other creatures to silence lest they fall victim to sharp fangs. Even you, you find, have taken to subconsciously adjusting your strides as to not step on too many fallen leaves, avoiding twigs as though making a peep at all would be a death sentence.

Making your way to the hill littered in graves only makes it feel more certain, that steady drip of dread telling you that death was nipping at your heels. Though, a part of you considers that’s just Ghost’s presence. Black shulk, a keeper of fairy mounds, a harbinger of death.

You’re not met with the presence of a wiry-haired dog this time though, but a man clad in black, face concealed by the frontal bones of a human skull with all but the jaw mostly there. Tall and bulky, the thin fabric of a tunic barely concealing the rigid musculature beneath. There’s a moment of panic, so brief the swell and fall leaves you breathless, before you realize looking into those eyes that this was still the dog you had met before. Different, but still just as haunted and weary. There’s a misplaced sense of peace with Ghost; a wolf taking to shepherding a lamb rather than devouring it.

“Ghost?” You call to him, and he tilts his head ever so slightly, attention pulled from whatever duty he feels that he owes to this cemetery. Some instinctual guardianship, perhaps, rooted just as deeply in his fae blood as the pride and fear in your humanity.

“Yes?”

The dog, man, whatever he may be doesn’t seem to have a care that you see him as he is now, his focus returning to the same tombstone you had kneeled beside the day you met him, thick fingers roving over the mossy stone. He’s not clearing it away, you notice, merely looking it over and it dawns on you that perhaps, in some distant past that this was someone he once knew. Had he waited at their side during their end? Pressed his muzzle to their palm in a kiss of death? Your fingers twitch at your side as your feet move on auto-pilot, arriving at his side before you seat yourself next to him.

Ghost smells of sulfur, of pine and morning dew. Not death as you had expected. He smells of spring mornings and hazy summer afternoons, scorched earth and vibrant meadows all in one. Purgatory made flesh, a passerby between heaven and hell.

“Did you steal my lily?” The words seem entirely outlandish as they spill from your mouth, and you realize how stupid you sound the second he cocks his head to look you over beneath the skull concealing the majority of his face from you. He doesn’t have to give you an answer, really, because you know he didn’t take it, but he still gives you the courtesy of a slow shake of his head. “Well, it’s gone.” You say quietly, drawing your gaze away from him as you look to the tombstone before the both of you. You can see it now, the name. Johnny MacTavish.

“Don’t know anything about it,” Ghost utters, his dark eyes remaining trained on you, but his hand moves to the soil beneath his feet. There’s a certain reverence to his touch as he splays his hand across the earth. This ‘Johnny’ must have been important to him in some capacity. Not a kiss of death at all, you realize then. Whatever Ghost was, he had the propensity to love, to grieve.

“Oh.” You breathe soft, pulling your lower lip between your teeth. A heavy silence hangs in the air for a moment. You hadn’t meant to interrupt him during such a sensitive time, but there’s some flicker in his eyes when you look up at him that suggests a semblance of gratitude that you’re here. “… you knew him?” Your force the question from your tongue, and Ghost merely turns his head to look at the stone before him, eyes somber as they trace over the engraved name as though he were reading poetry.

“That I did.”

You both sit in silence for a time. There’s a part of you that doesn’t want to leave him to haunt this place alone anymore, and a more rational part that tells you that he belongs here, tethered to this Johnny’s side for the rest of his days. Ghost seems less tense in your presence, almost soothed by the silence it seemed as his broad shoulders go slack and he pays his silent respects to this buried man by way of gentle touch and a barely contained softness in his eyes. The silence feels neither awkward nor unfamiliar, it’s as gentle as a breeze passing through. You picture what this man must have been like, to steal the heart of someone like Ghost, even in death. You don’t ask, despite the questions burning in your throat. In due time, perhaps.

An hour passes before you force up the will to leave him, and just like the last time, Ghost walks you home. There’s no more pushing, no ushering you to look forward or walk faster. The man would never voice it, but something about the way he looks at you now tells you there’s some newfound respect budding up in his chest like a wildflower.

The silence is only broken as you reach the door to Kate’s home.

“Somethin’s got its eye on you, lovie.” You whip your head around to question him, but find the man has already gone.

— — —

You return empty handed, noting that Kate’s car was no longer parked in the gravel driveway. A note on the refrigerator door reads ‘Out. Be back soon!’. It’s the first time that you’ve found yourself alone in the cottage, but you have the sense to tell you that you’re not entirely alone. Even the mottled white and blue wallpaper, some faux marble pattern, makes you feel as though you’re being watched, as though something you’re just not seeing is tucked away beneath those colors observing you with the eyes of a starved wolf.

And it’s quiet, it’s so quiet that it makes that unease grow. You’re repeating Ghost’s words in your head like a strange mantra.

Somethin’s got its eye on you, lovie.

Why didn’t he elaborate? Did he even know? Could he know?

The house settles, a floorboard creaks loudly and that’s enough to spur you to hide away in your room, at least until Kate returns.

Your room feels like small sanctuary as you shut the door behind you and let out a shaky breath. The calm is only interrupted when you notice the dead sparrow lying neatly atop your bedsheets, it’s wings spread out, feet tucked against its tiny body and it’s eyes closed. It looked peaceful, not brutally marred and yet the sight alone pulls a gasp from your throat as your eyes grow wide.

Something had been in your room. Someone had been in your room.

Was the dead bird a threat? A gift? You couldn’t be certain, but you glove your hands and bury it in the backyard, eyes carefully scanning the tree line every so often as a chill runs down each knob of your spine. You’ve heard mentions of the fair folk your entire life, in books and film, but those stories all felt so nonsensical and sweet compared to the here and now. Were they not supposed to simply be little people donning butterfly’s wings? Fluttering about thick oak trees and being birthed from flower bulbs? Kate’s ‘neighbors’ looked and felt the part of demons by comparison.

If not for Ghost’s existence, you would think this all was her doing, that perhaps she was more eccentric than you had realized. You’re scared, you’re alone here in the country, and it seemed as though these strange occurrences would just be your new day-to-day. As normal as a walk to the subway, as ordering your coffee from a local cafe. You pat the small grave with the spade once as you rise to your feet to head inside to wash your sheets.

— — —

You don’t remember falling asleep, memory only supplying you placing your sheets in the washer with a slight grimace on your face. But you wake, you wake to the dim light of the moon basking your room in a hazy, milky glow. You can feel the presence of a blanket covering your lower half, but you’ve hardly time to question how it got there at all.

A long, muscular arm curls around your middle, inviting in a cold, billowing wave of fear to wash over your bones. Ghost?, you wonder in silence, but the thought immediately dissipates as you feel the figure shift closer behind you, tucking you further against himself. Ghost was big, but this person was somehow larger. Impossibly so. You part your lips to scream, but not a sound comes out. You feel as though your voice itself has been snatched away from your throat. “Shh,” a voice hisses into your ear, the feeling of fabric moving over your face as the man behind you tilts his head to look you over.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I won’t hurt you,” the voice continues, somehow both gravely and light as he speaks. It’s unfamiliar, entirely unfamiliar. He sounds unhinged in a way your fretful mind can’t even begin to voice, and surely, he must be. Climbing into bed with a stranger, pulling someone you’ve never met so closely to you… why would anyone in their right mind do that?!

You manage to find your voice when the man lowers his head to the crown of yours, deeply inhaling as his grip around you tightens. “What the hell are you doing?” You try to sound assertive, truly, but it comes out as a small squeak, anxiously wavering with each syllable uttered.

“You smell like honeysuckle.”

Was Kate back yet? If you screamed would she come sprinting through to door to rid this beast of a man from your bed? Your thoughts are like a roaring storm in your head just before you feel the gentle brush of lips, hidden beneath some veil, against your cheek and the figure pulls away to settle against your pillow with a soft huff of breath.

“Your heart is racing like a little hase. Calm down.”

“Stop. Please.” Your voice cracks again. Through the dim light of the moon seeping through your window you make out the sight of a clawed hand resting over your tummy. Thick, black keratin gently splayed over the fabric of your shirt, grip firm but not tight enough to cause injury. Your breath catches, the stranger let’s out an airy laugh, tries to pull you closer once again. You’re so entwined that it’s for naught, you’re only grateful he was gentle. The thought of those claws splitting you open surfaces just before he shushes you again.

“I won’t hurt you,” he repeats as if sensing your unease. You can almost detect the dejection in his voice, as though he knows, knows that you’re catching glimpses of a monster, a sight he couldn’t change. It’s gone so quickly you think you’ve imagined it. His thumb moves languidly to trace a circle along your sternum, trying to soothe.

“What do you want?” Your voice was a low hiss, eyes darting from his hand to the wall in front of you. The courage to twist in his grip and face him wasn’t there, your imagination running wild with possibilities of the rest of him like stills from a horror film.

“To hold you.” Simple sentences do nothing to make his voice sound calm, the man is practically trembling as his hand moves to your hip to trace a pattern there, clawed fingertips dancing over a hint of exposed flesh. His other arm shifts to fit beneath your neck, you can see the taut muscle, the veins there as he moves it to curl over your chest, his breathing uneven and deep. The sound was familiar, the same sound you had heard when you felt the dip in your mattress a few nights prior. “Just to hold you.”

And this, despite how horrific and strange, is oddly comforting. Your mind has been plagued with anxieties caused by the unseen for days on end, and you can’t even recall the last time you’ve been held like this, if ever. So tender, so warm. The man behind you quietly hums the tune of a song that isn’t familiar, but feels as though it were just behind you. His fingers continue to delicately trace small shapes against you, warm paths of connecting points, some angular, some smooth. Despite yourself, you find you’re lulled into a deep sleep filled with dreams of fall forests, of unknowns with sharp teeth and fierce eyes. A song, dancing naked in groves, a man with eyes like an ice covered stream.

When you wake, you find your bed empty apart from your own person, and a fully bloomed lily in your windowsill.

#König x reader #konig x reader #König x you #konig x you #konig fanfiction #konig #König #call of duty #if i look at this any longer i will never post it raaah #erlkönig!König is everything to me

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anzulvr · 12 days

Text

୨୧ On Purpose Karma x (fem) Reader || Chapter: 04 ୨୧

Prev || 04 Oblivious || Next

— Since the entire student council was present and the library was notably crowded with students who had signed up for the lecture, [Name] entered the library on her own.

She felt guilty, having to ditch her plans with Karma after an unresolved argument they decided to brush over. To make matters worse, she has to sit through a two-hour session and watch Ren shamelessly flirt with every girl in the room. On the brighter side, this ordeal counted towards her volunteer hours.

"You're late. You missed my introductory speech."

"My fault, I'll make up for it by working extra hard!"

She mentally thanked Karma for convincing her take the longer route, saying, "It's not a big deal if you're 10 minutes late... or 30." It was impressive how Gakushuu's speeches managed to put her to sleep every time, missing it was a win in her book.

Koyama called him over, something about a broken printer and an angry librarian.

...aaand she was all alone again. [Name] decided to go check on the group at the back table.

"Oh, [Name] made it—she can help us!" The first year, Chisa blissfully smiled.

"But I wanted Asano to help. [Name] could you please ask him to?" Chisa's friend insisted, clearly not as enthusiastic about the anyone-whose-not- Asano's arrival.

[Name] tried not to let it bother her, being the only girl in the student council came with a lot of pressure.

She’s just as helpful and capable as the rest of the group but no one seems to acknowledge it. Everyone calls them the “Big Five” even though there’s technically six of them as her scores tie with Seo.

"He's busy with Koyama, but maybe later."

The girl groaned and sulked laying her head on the table. Chisa looked apologetic for her friends dramatics. [Name] offered them a polite smile and said, "Let's get through your assignments then."

After half an hour of helping the girls turn in missing work, [Name] decided to take a short break. She left for an empty table in the very corner of the room, the short break turned into a long one when she got distracted texting Karma.

‧₊˚ Message Log ‧₊˚

[Name]: can we talk? im super bored!!

Karma: Whose fault is that?

Karma: should have ditched to be with me the whooleee day

[Name]: ugghhh don't. Can you believe I still have another hour of this

[Name]: anyway what are you doing?

Karma: I bumped into Nagisa on my way back from the library

Karma: now were at Maehara's house with Rio and Fuwa.

[Name]: Rio?? That one beautiful, smart, sweet, blonde girl in your class?

Karma: Sounds like you like her alot.

[Name]: She makes me nervous

Karma: Hey that's how you used to talk about me before we went out

[Name]: I can hear the disappointment through the text lmaoo

‧₊˚ Message End ‧₊˚

"You haven't even been here for an hour and you’re already slacking off on your phone?"

"Gakushuu! Geez you came out of nowhere." [Name] shut her phone off and patted the seat next to her.

To her surprise he slumped down next to her instead of insulting her and walking off, like he usually does.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm exhausted to say the least. This was a stupid idea no one is making progress, well no one but Ren, he managed to pick up quite a few desperate ones today."

"That's not completely true, I helped Chisa and her friend turn their C's to A's. As much as I hate being here it's not useless. Useless was the Bakesale we tried last year where the cupcakes we sold tasted like horse crap. It was funny watching people pretend to love them and hold back the throw up because they came from you."

"Could of stopped at the first half, but thanks, I think. My father said I wasn't being organized enough, that this would be a failure on my half and an embarrassment on his."

"That's a little harsh, you're doing your best and you've done more than anyone else in the council. Ren's been giving out his number more than he's been lecturing, Seo has been in the bathroom for 20 minutes, Teppei has been stuck on the same group this entire time and to be honest Koyama is hard to look at. Im pretty sure I saw the girl he was teaching closing her eyes while he was talking."

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards.

"You're right I'll go yell at them in a few. It's not a big deal though, My father has said much worse."

"To be fair, I haven't exactly kept my promise either. Hard work turned into hiding in a corner to text my b- actually I should get back to work, actions speak louder than words!" [Name] stood up to leave. Asano grabbed her sleeve, it was impulsive and the immediateness of it made it all the more awkward."

"Uh, Asano? Is there something you still need?" She crinkled her eyebrows.

His cheeks became somewhat pink, [Name] thought he couldn’t have been blushing, maybe it was allergies.

“No, just don't get distracted on your phone again."

"Yeah Ive got it!" She waved him off and went back to work,

Gakushuu sat there slightly conflicted with his thoughts and his feelings, He faulted the all nighter he pulled last night, sleep deprivation does negatively impact mind clarity. He decided he should get back to work too.

Meanwhile ☆ ༄

"Let me get this straight, instead of asking me like normal people the class collectively decided to stalk [Name] and I?"

"Pretty much... but I was against it the entire time!" Nagisa replied sheepishly, to his surprise Karma's response was a relaxed nod.

"You're acting weirdly cool about this."

It sent a shiver down his spine, in a weird way Karma was scarier when he didn't react. Not knowing what he's thinking was an uncomfortable feeling.

"It's not a big deal- unless you guys tell people, that's when things will leak."

Fuwa's voice highers a few octaves in concern "What things?!"

"Telling you would ruin the surprise wouldn’t it?”

Maehara, reckless as always chimes in “I wanted to go and see [Name] but I couldn't. We were almost a thing before you stole her ya know?"

Nagisa, being the good friend he is, rushes in to save him "That's not it at all! Isogai told us she rejected him a bunch of times since he's a womanizer!"

"I'm not a womanizer, I'm smooth."

"Smooth is the surface of the floor you'll be on when I knock your sorry ass out."

Maehara quickly moves behind Rio who changes the subject with a flood of questions;

"How long have you been dating? Why would anyone go out with you? Did you scare her into saying yes?"

"I’ll tell you if you buy me soba. Better question is: Why wouldn't someone go out with me? I’m tall, handsome, smart, charismatic… and I have a sick spice collection.”

“Im also all of those things.” Maehara jokes, cautiously this time, using Rio as a human shield.

#AkabaneOnPurpose #karma akabane #karma x reader #assassination classroom x reader #ansatsu kyoushitsu #karma akabane x reader #akabane karma x reader #anzulvr #akabane karma #akabane x reader #karma akabane x you #reader x karma #assassination classroom

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mixelation · 6 months

Note

how's sasori obligatory round of book club go?

bc his role in reborn au is "mildly stalks team 4" i'm imagining 1) he's never actually formally invited, but 2) he just shows up for random meetings. it gets to the point where it's like "oh, akasuna no sasori shows up as a side character in this one, are you inviting him?"

but the FIRST time, tori has been busily "befriending" a random woman she found in the chunin break room. she walks her from work to get drinks before the meeting so her "friend" absolutely cannot escape. and then at the bar, fucking sasori shows up

tori: how did you even get in here?!

sasori: i was in the area. what are you doing i want you to look at improvements i made to one of my mind control seals. maybe find itachi too he's into this

tori: NO i'm DOING SOMETHING

tori: here if you can't just wait a couple hours, we're doing a book of short stories this week. read at least one of them

the woman recognizes sasori and she's like. um i would like to leave? and tori is like NO NO BOOK CLUB IS STILL ON and then blocks every single attempt to leave or flag down ANBU. we are going to book club, okay, new best friend????

(sasori: this is a random desk-nin? wouldn't even make a good puppet)

so the three of them go to book club, which is hosted in the hokage's house, and kushina opens the door and is like. hmmm. then she goes to minato making a vegetable platter and she's like

kushina: hey yeah so you know how sasori is stalking my students

kushina: well he's here for book club

minato:

minato: did you let him in?

kushina: i mean yeah? he had a copy of the book

minato:

minato: huh

so sasori is just. there. he's read three out of six of the short stories and he was very strong opinions. also itachi shows up so book club turns out to be very convenient for sasori? so he's fine. he behaves. he doesn't take the drink kushina offers him. minato DOES go drop naruto off at sasuke's so he's not in the house, but like. sasori is a fine edition to book club. he has well articulated and thoughtful opinions and has no problem telling kakashi his opinions are stupid, which is a pretty good litmus test for not being someone who's cowed by authority

tori's new best friend is losing her mind. what the fuck is happening. why is hokage-sama okay with this. why does respected famous jounin hatake kakashi think one of the most infamous missing-nin alive being here is funny. only shisui looks even slightly concerned. and then she can't even SAY anything because what is she supposed to do? talk back to her boss or the three separate anbu captains present??? she thought tori was a civilian

as they're leaving book club, itachi vaguely wanders after tori and the rando woman (who tori will NOT let leave her) because sasori said he wanted to talk, and sasori is like "well if YOU'RE not going to use her as a test subject, can i?" and tori is like NO OBVIOUSLY NOT SHE'S MY BEST FRIEND

(itachi: your best friend is a 30 year old career chunin with a child?)

the chunin lady finally successfully executes the emergency alarm jutsu and itachi is like "hi, i'm the nearest anbu" and then "why did you even bother, did you really sit with him and hokage-sama in the same room and conclude this was an appropriate response?" so he's. unhelpful and mean.

so the woman has a breakdown right there in the streets and tori has to be physically dragged away from her. they go find deidara. tori is mad the whole time but sasori considers the evening a success

tori several days later: can you BELIEVE she doesn't want to talk to me anymore? she tried to get minato to ban me from the chunin break room

#reborn au

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lovelytsunoda · 9 months

Text

better be good to me // nyck de vries

summary: he's trying to hide that he's famous. she thinks she's finally met a normal man. one weekend trip is enough to knock every perception of him on it's side.

pairing: nyck de vries x reader

warnings: takes place before nyck got fired, nyck's kind of shifty about who he is, very brief mention of a piss k*nk, allusions to sexual activities, happy ending because I beleive in happy ever afters.

Oh, you better be good to me That's how it's gotta be now 'Cause I don't have no use You loosely call the truth You better be good to me

“there’s no way he can afford this if he is who he says he is, you do know that, right?”

“you used to work for red bull and you turned out fine.” she laughed at her roommate, pulling a few dresses out of her closet and throwing them into her suitcase.

“I worked on college campuses and made minimum wage.” eleanor rolled her eyes. “I could not afford to whisk my lover away for a weekend in austria.”

y/n rolled her eyes, flopping down on the double bed. “you worked for minimum wage hocking energy drinks on campus. nyck works in advertising.”

just under eight months ago, y/n y/l/n Met the man of her dreams. nyck de vries was sweet and funny and gentle and best of all, he was normal. he wasn’t a macho frat bro athlete or a film bro who’s favourite movie was ‘scarface’. he didn’t have a hidden piss kink. he was just nyck.

“I’m just saying that I don’t think he’s being totally honest about who he is. maybe he’s some dutch nepo baby burning daddys money.”

“and would that be so bad?” y/n laughed, tossing a floral skirt at her roommate in retaliation. “I finally meet a normal guy, someone who makes me feel incredible about myself, and you’re questioning it?”

eleanor sighed, looking over at her best friend. “I’m just looking out for you. I want you to be safe, even if you are choosing to go to a whole new country with a man you barely know.”

“we live in a small continent, ellie. it’s a six hour drive across the border, i can come home at any time.”

y/n never has any reason to doubt that nyck was exactly who he said he was. sure, he dressed a little too nicely for a twenty-seven year old and he drove a car so expensive that she could only dream of owning one like it, but she took one as a sign of maturity, and the other as a sign of a healthy work ethic.

“just be safe. and tell me all the gory details. i wanna know what the little man gets up to in bed.”

“eleanor!”

two days later, she was in the passenger seat of nycks toyota supra, speeding down a one-lane road on the way to spielberg, not a care in the world or another car in sight as she rolled the window all the way down, hair flying around her face as she sang along to the radio, a classic rock station that she knew nyck couldn’t stand but had put on just for her.

his hand rested comfortably in her bare thigh, rubbing reassuring circles as he looked over, a grin on his face as he watched her intently.

if only she knew what he was hiding. would they still be able to have moments like this, he wondered to himself, car hugging the curve of the road as he turned.

as he pulled up the hilton suites he’d booked for the weekend, a sprawling lodge located in the hills, behind a wrought iron gate only accessible with a confirmation code from your booking receipt, y/n felt her heart contract in her chest as she saw the hordes of people surrounding the gates.

“nyck, why are all these people here?”

“they must just be in town for the race.” nyck hummed, trying to steer through the crowd without running over any fans dressed in red bull regalia, thankful that he had sprung to buy the tinted windows.

“race?” she raised her eyes, pushing her sunglasses up on her head. “what race?”

“formula one at the red bull ring this weekend.” nyck said, finally steering the supra through the barely open iron gate, security officers pushing back the fans as he made his way up the winding driveway. “they gave me some paddock passes at work for the weekend. i remembered how you said you used to love racing in school and I thought you might want to see it up close and personal.”

y/n smiled, reaching to clutch his hand in hers. “babe, that was five years ago. i drove a stock car for my university’s shitty team around a homemade dirt track because we lived in a town that was so far away from everything that there was nothing else to do. it was a glorified demolition derby.”

“and you still haven’t shown me any videos of it.”

she laughed as nyck pulled into a parking space. “it never came up in conversation!”

“you can’t just tell me that you were once a stock car driver and not back it up with photographic evidence!”

they headed inside the hotel, walking hand in hand. they only brought in one suitcase each, the rest of the bags hidden in nycks trunk. all his racing gear was still in the car, a pit in his stomach as he though about confessing, about explaining who he truly was.

but in his defence, everything could have easily been found by googling his name.

he unlocked the suite door, ditching his suitcase and his shoes by the mirrored closet door. to nyck, this was just another hotel room paid for by management. but to y/n? she felt like she was sitting in the lap of luxury as she buried her bare feet in the carpet, walking towards the french balcony doors.

“nicky, this place is incredible!” she laughed, twirling around and trying not to hit the tv as she laughed, gesturing to the large tub in the corner of the room. “is that a jacuzzi?”

and nyck looked at her in pure adoration, laughing as he pulled her into his arms, kissing her softly. “only the best. you and me are going to have lots of fun in there tonight.”

“why wait?” she grinned roguishly, leaning over to turn the taps on the tub, brushing up against her lovers crotch. “we could have fun now.”

nyck was a goner before she had even taken her shirt off.

the next morning, he was running through all the ways that he could tell her who he was before he got to the track. by the time he was done his shower and drinking his kale smoothie, he had exactly no ideas.

by the time they got to the track, he had admitted defeat. he’d let the massive motif of his face in the side of the alphatauri building do all of the talking.

they walked through the paddock hand in hand, and as nyck stopped to wave at everyone, confusion started to well in her stomach.

why did everyone in the paddock know who her boyfriend was?

“um, babe, we just walked past the red bull building.” she pointed out, gesturing with her thumb towards the large navy building emblazoned with the face of sergio perez.

“just trust me, sweetheart. it will all make sense.” nyck reassured, kissing her knuckles as he turned towards the alphatauri building.

“oi, de vries!” someone shouted from a balcony “nice to see you, big guy!”

and that’s when she saw it, freezing in her path and dropping nycks hand. he didn’t notice as first, only turning back to look for her once he stood in the doorway. he found her standing at the edge of the patio, staring up at the flag fluttering in the breeze. it had her boyfriends face on it, and he was dressed a nomex racing suit, a much more expensive version of the tags she wore in college.

nyck sighed, taking a few steps forward as he tried to think of something to say. something, anything that could explain why his face was on the side of a building inside a formula one paddock.

“y/n, please, just let me explain.”

“eleanor was right.” she shook her head, not even looking at nyck before she skipped down the patio steps, running as far away from the alpahtauri building as she could.

how could nyck have lied to her for so long? did he take her for a fool? did he think she’d think any different of him if he knew the truth?

or, did. he not tell her because she didn’t mean anything to him?

nyck would find her sitting on a picnic bench in the paddock, reading her boyfriends wikipedia page. if he had lied about being a formula e championship winner, what else has nyck de vries lied to her about?

“hey, y/n…” nyck sighed, sliding his hands into the pockets of his chinos. “can we talk?”

“i don’t know, nyck. if that even is your real name.” she scoffed, dropping her phone into her bag. “you know how many people have stopped me and asked if I’m your girlfriend because you’ve told them so much about me? yet you’ve told me nothing about any of this.”

“well, im going to start by admitting that nyck isn’t even my real name.”

“i know.” she crossed her arms over her chest, growing at her lover. “I’ve read your wikipedia page, hendrik nicasius.”

nyck sighed, taking a seat next to her on the bench. “i guess I deserve that. can I at least explain?”

“you can do whatever you want. but please, give me one good reason to stay here with your lying ass instead of calling a rental car and driving back to eleanor, who will then say ‘I told you so’.”

“i didn’t tell you because when I was with you, I didn’t feel like i had the weight of the entire sport on my shoulders. you’ve read my wiki page, so you know how I got here. and you know how difficult it has been this season.” nyck started, half reaching for his hand before clenching his fingers into a fist and withdrawing the action. “you didn’t look at me and see nyck de vries, f1 rookie. you looked at me and saw hendrik, a normal guy who wants to enjoy a normal life.”

she nodded, anger evaporating from her bones when she thought about the situation from nycks perspective. yes, he had lied, but he did it out of the goodness of his heart. he had done it for the right reasons.

“i get it. you didn’t want me to see you any differently.”

“I just wanted you to see me for who i was.”

y/n frowned, reaching for nycks hand. “I’m still pissed at you for lying to me. but I understand. nicky, this is a fever dream. if you told the nineteen year old stock car driver i used to be that I’d be here with you right now, i wouldn’t have believed you.”

nyck nodded, leaning forward to place a kiss on her hairline. “I love you. and I hope this doesn’t change anything between us.”

“never. let’s go get you on track, car boy.”

TAGS

@magnummagnussen @scuderiamh @libraryofloveletters @lorarri @sidcrosbyspuck @diorleclerc @scuderiasundays @thatsdemko @oconso @silverstonesainz @clemswrld @love4lando @httpiastri

#nyck de vries x reader #nyck de vries #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #nyck de vries x y/n #tina: the series by lovelytsunoda #Spotify

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

Text

Fate is Definitely Drunk

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: fluff-ish, very meet cute if meet cute was more panicked and frozen in shock, cursing b/c I can’t write without cursing apparently

Word Count: 1,050

Summary: Everyone has the words their soulmate will first say to them written on their skin somewhere. You have the most average words in the known universe so you assume you’ll have a soulmate that matches that. Fate ain’t happy you underestimated her.

A/N: This is part of my marvel soulmate series. I did a whole thing. Sort of.

Soul marks were a funny thing. Mysterious. Unpredictable. Seemingly random. Science tried to understand it, but no matter how many studies they pushed out there never seemed to be a concrete answer. Some people referred to the marks as, ‘Scrawls of Fate’. That’s what it had to be, right? Fate pulling the strings, dragging people together, and creating happy endings or whatever.

You weren’t bitter.

And yes, that’s probably what bitter people said, but you were not bitter.

Not more than the average human at least.

You’ve seen dream couples meet because of the words on their skin. You had a friend in elementary school find her soulmate in the first grade. Yes, they got stuck with words said by their toddler selves, but they were stupid happy. You had just attended their wedding six months ago. It was sickeningly beautiful. Most of the couples you’ve seen get strung together were doing pretty well. Nothing special or crazy unique, but they were content.

That was the goal, right?

To be content.

Anything above that was just extra, and there was nothing wrong with extra, but if you walked around thinking the fates owed you extra then of course you’d be disappointed. That was your view of it at least. Even as a kid you never really got worked up over your words. They were simple, average, and you wouldn’t be surprised if a handful of other people in the world had the exact same mark as you coincidentally.

‘Terrible weather, huh?’

Your soul mark was literally the epitome of small talk. You’ve seen a lot worse though. A friend in high school had the words, ‘Fucking fish’ on their arm. You were still very curious as to how that would’ve come up in conversation. Maybe you needed to reach out to him later just to see if he had met his soulmate yet.

The sound of your name brought your eyes up from the table in surprise. The gaze of all the other brand-new interns were zoned in on you, and the only reason you remembered the initial ice-breaker question was because it had put you off on the tangent your brain got stuck on.

“Nope.” You shook your head quickly and offered the group a smile that you hoped was less awkward and more ‘happy to be here’, “No significant other at the moment.”

The group leader, your new boss, was a chirpy brunette named Janice who was living her best life right now. Her smile filled her entire face and she seemed to radiate sunshine. Which was cool for her, but you couldn’t imagine being that excited on a Monday morning unless you were on something.

“I was hoping Tim would be back by now.” Janice hummed, drumming her nails on the table, “I was gonna have him pick you guys up some coffee. Nothing like a caffeine boost before we move onto the program training.”

You raised a hand, “I’ll go grab us some coffee.”

“You will?” Janice beamed. “You’re a saint. Just tell the barista that I sent you.”

The group gave you their orders, that you jotted down into your phone, then you hurried out of the boardroom with a sigh of relief. It was nice to finally stretch your legs after being stuck in there for the last couple hours. Honestly, you were so thankful to have this job. You were just a low-level grunt working the mail room and answering phones, but you were a low-level grunt at Stark Industries. Everybody said that’d look fantastic on your resume and since you had no real future plans right now it seemed like a safe bet.

The coffee stand was on the first floor in the lobby and was packed. It took a good ten minutes just to get to the front of the line, but you weren’t in any kind of rush. You ordered the coffees then wandered off to the side to wait for them to be made. Your eyes drifted to the large lobby windows that were currently being pelted with rain. You loved storms. It was funny that rainy days brought you such comfort, but you always figured it tied into your soul mark. You were never actively hoping for anything, but maybe your subconscious just knew this would be the setting you’d find the one in.

The barista called out your name and you turned away from the view. You grabbed the drink carrier that had five cups balanced on it. Before going upstairs, you drifted a little closer to the front doors and paused for just another second to stare outside. The board room you were stuck in had no windows at all, and only this close to the door could you smell and hear the rain.

Someone stopped a couple steps to your left and you couldn’t help but look over at them as they undid the clasp holding their umbrella closed. It took two seconds for you to realize that the person standing beside you with their umbrella was Captain America. Your eyes widened in shock. He always looked so big and in charge on the news, and in person he was legitimately intimidating. Tall stature, broad shoulders, and God, he was good looking. As in, who the hell had the right to look so good so casually??

Captain America glanced at you, his blue eyes meeting your gaze, and though your brain screamed at you to look away and not stare like a frozen creeper, you couldn’t move a muscle. You just stood there looking like the idiot you felt like. He politely gave you a tiny nod and warm smile. Captain America motioned to the door, “Terrible weather, huh?”

You felt the words on your shoulder tingle and your jaw fell loose in disbelief. Captain America just gave you one more nod before walking to the door. He opened his umbrella and you lost sight of him out in the storm amongst all the other walking umbrellas.

Had he just…?

Had you just…?

The drink carrier slipped from your hands and five full cups of coffee hit the tiled floor causing a disaster at your feet. You couldn’t even register that people were looking at you or that the hot coffee had burned your through your pants’ leg or that you were now standing in a pool of caffeine.

You gasped, “Oh, fuck me.”

[next chapter]

#steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #marvel #reader insert #Female reader #captain america x reader #captain america x you #soulmate au

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madneedshelp · 1 year

Text

You Make Loving Fun - Warren Rojas x FReader

Summary: You weren’t really a relationship girl. Sure, you had no problems with some fun and this was the era of free love, but you preferred to keep things as just fun. So, when your friend introduces you to the drummer in her band, why does he make you want to change this rule so badly?

Warnings: implied sex, recreational drug and alcohol use, adult language

“Karen, I swear I cannot get drunk tonight! I have a shoot tomorrow and I cannot be hungover. No drugs either, they make me sloppy in the morning.” You warned, looping an arm through your friend’s.

She tilted back her head in a laugh. “I promise to keep an eye on you, party pooper. You’ve got to have a little fun, though.”

“Of course I will, I just don’t want to mess up this gig. I’ve worked so hard and things are too fucking competitive out here. I will do my best to loosen up a little bit, though.” You gave her a grin that mirrored her own.

Karen was one of the few good friends you had out in LA. You came out here to pursue modeling after you were scouted soon after high school, and you’d spent the past couple years working hard at it. Not to brag, but you were doing alright for yourself. You were grabbing a drink with some coworkers of yours, which you had to admit were a little insufferable and bitchy, when you met Karen.

Now here you were, at a party thrown by Karen’s new band. The Six seemed like cool people, Karen definitely liked them better than her previous bandmates, so that made them okay in your book. She was right though, you did need to relax a little bit. This party might’ve been just what you needed.

“Everyone, this is my good friend, YN. Y/N, that’s Graham, Warren, Eddie, Billy, and Billy’s lovely wife Camila.” Karen announced to the group.

You exchanged pleasantries with everyone before more people started arriving and the group dispersed. It wasn’t long before Karen drifted off to talk to Graham and you decided maybe one drink wouldn’t be the end of the world. Loosen up, you told yourself.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m Warren.”

You jumped a bit as you finished pouring yourself a glass of wine, startled by the immediate presence of a curly-haired man.

“Oh, hi, and I remember.” You chuckled as you turned to face him. He was cute, in a playful way. He seemed genuinely happy, which was something a lot of aspiring musicians these days didn’t exude.

“So, Karen tells us you’re a model, that’s pretty cool.” He gave you a nervous grin.

You nodded. “Indeed I am. It’s not as glamorous as it looks all the time, though.”

He leaned against the table, very obviously trying to be flirty. “Well, I’m sure if it’s you doing it, it looks plenty glamorous.”

That earned a laugh from you. He was funny. And actually quite attractive, you decided. “What else has Karen told you about me?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, she might have told us that you can be a little stuffy.”

A shocked expression took over your face. “Did she really? Wow. That hurts.”

“I didn’t say I believed her.” Warren shrugged.

“No, she’s kind of right. I’ve been working a lot lately and my agents have me under a pretty strict routine. That’s why I came tonight, to have some fun.” Your lips turned up in a sly smile. A rush of satisfaction flooded through you as Warren’s eyes traveled down to your lips. Two could play at this little flirty game he had started.

Suddenly, Karen showed up with Graham and Eddie in tow. “Hey, we’re going to go smoke out back. Do you two want to join us?”

You considered for a moment. If you stopped drinking now and only stuck to some weed, you’d probably be okay in the morning. “Sure, I’m in.”

“Really?” Karen looked pleasantly surprised.

“Yeah, apparently someone is spreading the rumor that I’m ‘stuffy’ and I can’t have that circulating.” You sent her a playful glare.

“Well, you heard the lady, let’s go.” Warren grinned.

About an hour later, the five of you sat out back in a comfortable haze. Karen and Graham had gotten surprisingly touchy with each other, and Eddie seemed hilariously out of it. You found yourself sneaking numerous glances at Warren. Weed made you a little horny sometimes, which you probably should’ve considered before agreeing to this.

Luckily for you, Warren was also sneaking glances. You could tell the wanting feeling between you two was mutual.

Before long, Karen and Graham slipped away, and Eddie wasn’t long to follow. That left you and Warren alone.

“So,” He sat up beside you in the chair you two shared. “Did you have fun tonight?”

“Yeah, I really did.” You gave him a lazy smile. “How about you?”

“Me too, but I have fun all the time.” Warren chuckled .

An easy smile played on his lips and you found yourself staring. He did radiate this comforting sort of vibe…honestly, he radiated fun. You weren’t sure at what point you started leaning toward him, but he had leaned in too.

Before you knew it, his lips were locked on yours and you had your hands entwined in his mess of dark curls. He gave you a chance to break the kiss, just in case it wasn’t what you wanted, but you didn’t. You only kissed him back hungrier.

Everything about kissing Warren was thrilling. It felt like light speed, but also as though the minutes had dragged into hours. At some point, he’d shifted you into his lap to where you were straddling him and his hands drifted comfortably to your hips.

“We could…take this upstairs to my room. If you want to.” He whispered breathily into your ear.

“Sorry, I only fuck guitarists.” You whispered back with a joking smirk.

“Shit, I guess Graham will have to give me some lessons then.” He let out a raspy chuckle that sent a flutter of warmth through you.

You kissed him again, with the same passion resuming almost immediately. “I suppose I could make an exception this once.”

– – – – – – – – – –

You were still grinning as you tugged your dress back on. Coming to this party had definitely been the right decision.

“You don’t have to leave now, you know,” Warren murmured from the bed.

All giddiness faded from you immediately. You never stayed. Relationships were messy and stressful. Your work was stressful enough for you, so you tended to keep your personal life more casual.

“I should go, I have a shoot pretty early in the morning.” You didn’t look at him as you put your heels back on.

He was silent for a beat. “Well, could I call you sometime?”

The pit in your stomach only deepened. You felt guilty at the tinge of rejection in his voice. There was something else too, though, but you couldn’t quite put a name on this other feeling.

“Warren, listen, I’m not exactly looking for a relationship right now. I’m sorry.” You grimaced, unable to make eye contact. Normally, you didn’t have to do this part because most guys didn’t question things when you left right after.

“Could I call you if we don’t make this a relationship thing?”

You didn’t really do repeats either. That bordered too close to attachments usually, but something in your gut made you nod. Deep down, you kind of wanted to see him again.

“Yeah, I think that would be okay.” You said hesitantly.

After writing down your number, you slipped out the door and went to find the exit. As you sat in the cab on the way home, you realized that the odd feeling you couldn’t name earlier was longing. A part of you had wanted to stay with him. Honestly, you weren’t sure if you trusted that part of you.

– – – – – – – – – –

You and Warren jokingly liked to call each other sex friends. It was a fairly accurate label, to be completely honest. Yeah, the arrangement started off as a sex thing, but you found that you had actually gotten to know him over the past few months and you enjoyed his company.

Karen brought you along to a decent amount of band functions if you were off work, since your schedule was patchy sometimes. You enjoyed the extra time you got to spend with her, but you didn’t hate seeing Warren more too.

You and Karen were lounging on some chairs in the studio one afternoon while you waited for the rest of the band, who were almost all usually always late.

“Why aren’t you with Warren?” Karen asked out of the blue.

“Why aren’t you with Graham?” You returned.

She sighed and stared off at the wall. “You know why. I love my work, and I’ll never be the woman that wants to settle down. I don’t want to give this up, and being with him would require that of me in the end.”

You shrugged. “Same for me. Work comes first.” Karen considered your words for a moment, and you could tell she didn’t quite believe you. “Just say what you’re thinking.”

“I think that for me, my work makes me happy, and this is the life that’ll make me happiest. If that’s true for you, I respect that one hundred percent, but I don’t think your work makes you happy like I’m happy.” You were about to protest, but she stopped you. “No, listen, I’m not saying you need to be with Warren to be happy. That’s not it. I’m just saying that you should really consider if this lifestyle is what you truly want in the long run.”

God, you hated when she was right about things. You couldn’t even challenge her because while it may not have been what you wanted to hear, there was some truth to them. Did you want to spend forever just working and going home to an empty apartment? Hell, it’s not like modeling is a career that lasts forever. Did you really want to pour your whole life into a career that would be done with you before the next decade was up?

“And for the record, I do think you look happy with him. He definitely is happier with you. I’m not trying to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do, I’m just saying that, for the record, that’s what it looks like.” She added and gave you a small smile.

You couldn’t go into the Warren spiral again. Not now. Your mind had been drifting there all too often lately.

“I think I need to go.” You mumbled and grabbed your purse.

Karen stood up with you and put a hand on your arm. “Hey, please don’t. I didn’t want to make you angry, I just thought you needed to hear it. Please stay.”

“I’m not mad, Karen. I’m just frustrated that you’re right, so I think I need to be alone to do some thinking, okay? I’ll call you tonight.” You grabbed her hand and gave it a quick reassuring squeeze before you headed for the parking lot.

The universe, it seemed, had shitty timing. Keys in hand, tears starting down your face, you opened the door and ran straight into Warren himself.

“Hey, Y/N, what’s…wait, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” The smile that formed upon your appearance quickly faltered from his face.

You shook your head, not wanting to deal with any of it right then. “I’m fine, Warren. I’m just going home.”

But he couldn’t just let you leave. No, you had to pick one of the most decent guys in LA to be in a situationship with. He didn’t move from his spot in front of the door. “I don’t think you’re fine, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t try to drive yourself home like this.”

“Dammit, Warren, why do you fucking care!?” The words were harsh and you didn’t really want to say them, but they slipped out anyway.

“Because I care about what happens to you. I just, I don’t know, I just care about you, okay?” He kept his voice calm.

“I didn’t ask that of you.”

“I know, but I can’t help it.”

You let out a shaky laugh. “The funny thing is, I didn’t want to date anybody because I didn’t want the distractions and complications, but here we are. Here I am. I’m a fucking mess. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t want to love you because apparently I don’t get to decide those things myself.”

He looked stunned for a moment. “You love me?”

“Yeah, Warren, I do.”

“Can I tell you that I love you too, or is this a bad time for that?”

That mustered a weak chuckle from you. He always could make you laugh, even from the beginning.

It really hit you then. Loving Warren wasn’t this painful, terrible thing. It was passionate, and warm, and fun, and it felt good. Maybe it wasn’t in your plan to love someone, but you hadn’t met Warren when you decided that for yourself. Love didn’t have to tear you apart, it could be a thing to keep you together.

“No, I want you to tell me. Please.” You sniffled, looking up at him through your teary eyes as a fresh wave of tears were about to ensue. These were the happy kind of emotional tears, though.

“I love you. I’ll love you for as long as you’ll let me.” Warren said softly.

He bent down and kissed you then, and as he did, you got the feeling that you would let him love you for a very long time.

#warren rojas x reader #warren rojas #warren rhodes #warren rojas imagine #daisy jones fanfic #daisy jones fanfiction #karen sirko #graham dunne #eddie roundtree #billy dunne #camila dunne #daisy jones

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vanfleeter · 8 months

Text

Dirty Little Secret (10) // JTK

Characters: Jake x Fem!Reader Warnings: Fluff, angst, mentions of pregnancy and miscarriage, sex, p in v sex, teasing, I'm sure there's more that I'm forgetting so let me know if I did.

Author's Note: Final chapter is here. Thank you for all the love for this series!

–2 Years Later–

Jake anxiously taps his foot as he waits for Danny to show up. Pulling out his phone, he checks the time. He’s twenty minutes late, how can he be late? But as he locks his phone and stuff it back into his pocket, he hears the bells jingle indicating someone’s arrival. Looking up he sees Danny shuffling inside the coffee shop as he smiles and nods his head at an elderly woman as she exits the building.

“I’m so sorry that I’m late.” Danny says as he slides into the booth. Jake slides over a coffee and Danny reaches for a couple sugar packs on the table. “I made sure to leave at a reasonable time before rush hour traffic hit–apparently I didn’t time it correctly.” He pours the two sugar packets into his coffee and stirs it with a spoon. “So.. What did you want to talk about?”

“Umm..” Jake digs into his other pocket and pulls out a small black box before sliding it across the table to Danny. Danny picks up the box and flips open the lid.

“Oh wow..” He breathes. “Jake, if I knew how you felt all this time, I would’ve spoken up sooner.” He jokes.

“Ha ha, very funny..”

Danny closes the box and hands it back to Jake. “You for sure want to do this?” He asks.

Jake nods his head. “Yeah.. I don’t want to wait.” He says. “Last time I thought waiting was a good idea just because of the band and everything–but this time around? I don’t want to waste any more time.”

“Is this something that she wants too?” Danny questions as he lifts his coffee up to his lips to take a drink. “Something you two talked about?” He sets his coffee back down and leans back into the booth.

Jake nods his head again and stirs a spoon in his coffee. “Yeah, we’ve talked about it–and I may or may not have caught her looking at rings.”

Danny smiles and chuckles. “I might have seen her pin a couple on her pinterest.” He says. Jake raises his eyebrows. “What? Yes, I use that. I save recipes to try when I’m home.” He says before taking another drink of his coffee. Jake chuckles and picks up his coffee. “Do you have an idea of when you want to ask her?”

“In a couple days.” He says. “We leave for our tour in a week and I know if I don’t do it soon, I won’t have another chance for another six months to a year.”

Danny nods his head and straightens up. “Need help at all?” He says. “I’m sure I can talk to Jenny and ask her to keep (Y/N) busy while you do what you gotta do?”

“Do what I gotta do?” Jake questions.

“Well, I don’t know what you have planned.”

“I know she doesn’t like extravagance so obviously I’ll stray away from fireworks,” He chuckles. “I think I’ll cook a simple dinner at home.”

“Ahh, so no public displays of affection?” Daniel questions.

“And let myself be embarrassed in public if she says no?” Jake scoffs. “I’d rather be made a fool in my own home than let random people pity me.”

Daniel smiles and shakes his head. “She won’t say no..” He says. “Though I take it you won’t need my help?”

“No, I will.” Jake says as he straightens up in the booth. “I need you to keep her out of the house–keep her occupied–just long enough for me to get what I need for dinner and get it ready–”

“--And yourself.”

“Yes, myself included.”

Danny finishes off his coffee. “Well, I’ll do all that I can. Just let me know exactly when and I will keep her occupied until you’re ready.”

“Before you go,” Jake says as he leans forward onto the table. “There’s one more thing I want to ask of you.”

“Uh oh..” Daniel chuckles.

Jake smiles. “Nothing bad, I promise.” He says. “I want to ask for your blessing–as my brother and her best friend.”

“If I even said ‘no’, would you have listened?” Daniel inquires.

“Probably not.” Jake says, making Daniel laugh.

Daniel nods his head and reaches for his wallet. He pulls out a twenty dollar bill and sets it on the table. “Coffee’s on me,” He says as he stands up from the table. “And yes, you do have my blessing.” He says giving Jake a smile before walking away and leaving the coffee shop.

—

Jake leans against the kitchen counter as he flips through a recipe book. He wanted something different. Something neither of you have had or tried before. Hearing the front door opening, he quickly closes the book and stuffs it back on the shelf in the cupboard. You step into the kitchen and dump your shopping bags on the counter.

“What did you do–wipe every store clean?” He jokes.

“Feels like it.” You say.

He chuckles and takes back his credit card that you hold out for him. “Did you max it out?”

“Luckily no.” You say making him smile.

“Well show me, love, what did you buy?” He says, putting his card back into his wallet.

“I think it might be best if I show you.”

“I mean..” He says as he turns back to face you. “How else will I know what you’ve gotten?” But the smirk that’s plastered to your face tells him exactly what you have planned. “Oh..”

You slowly nod your head and pick up the bags before disappearing from the kitchen. “Are you coming or not?” You call from the stairs.

Jake grabs his beer bottle and finishes off the rest before dropping it into the trash can. “Yes, I’m coming.” He says before leaving the kitchen and following you upstairs.

–

“Last outfit!” You call from the closet.

Jake groans and lets his head fall back into the pillows. He doesn’t groan out of boredom but out of the sheer agony. You’re killing him with the things you’ve been showing him. He thought he was going to be seeing dresses you’ve bought or new shirts, maybe new jeans or shoes. Or possibly new hats to add to your growing collection. It only makes sense that if he has so many hats, then you can too. To which he adores.

“I beg, please no more.” He says as he crosses his legs and sits up back on the bed.

He hears your sweet giggle from inside the closet followed by your voice, “The last one, I promise. I thought maybe these would excite you.”

“That’s the problem.” He says.

You appear in the doorway of the closet and lean across it. “But I’m sure you’ll like this one,” You say, hugging your robe close to your body. “I think it might even become your favorite.”

“Nothing can replace your little red number.”

“Are you sure about that?” You say as you slowly untie your robe.

Sliding the robe down your shoulder, you see his eyes slowly grow in size as he begins to realize that what you’re wearing underneath your robe is simply… Nothing. His breath catches in his throat when the robe falls from your body and pools on the floor by your feet.

Obviously it isn’t the first time that he’s seen you naked. Just the element of surprise is what takes his breath away. “Now it’s only fair that I’m not the only one who is naked.” You say as you strode up to him.

“Oh?”

Standing up from the bed, he reaches for the hems of his shirt and pulls it over his head. He pulls you and kisses you hard. You work to untie his linen pants as his hands find refuge in cupping your breasts. You breathe a moan as he twists your nipples between his thumbs and index fingers. You shove down his pants along with his boxers. He springs forth between the two of you.

“I told you it would be your favorite.” You whisper against his lips.

“I’ve been like this since the moment you walked out in the skimpy, little sundress,” He says as he hoists you up on his waist and carries you to the bed. “Who are you trying to impress with that dress, hmm?” He asks, lying you on the bed. “There is no way I’m ever letting you out of the house wearing that.”

“Maybe I bought it just for you.” You say, dragging your hands down his back and clawing deeply. He ruts his hips into yours as he kisses you again. Your lips move in sync before he pushes his tongue into your mouth. You feel his hand travel down your middle and to your center. He groans against your lips when he feels just how wet you’ve become.

As much as he wants to fuck you right now, he can’t. Danny’s supposed to be picking you up soon to keep you occupied while he carries out his little plan. Hearing the doorbell ring, he silently sings out praises in his head before pulling free of you.

“Danny’s here..”

You whine and pull him back down on top of you. “Make him wait.”

The doorbell rings again, more intensely than before. Jake chuckles and pries himself out of your arms before sliding off the bed and retrieving his shirt. “I’ll go let him in. You get dressed–and not in that sundress.”

“Ready to go?” Danny says as you make your way down the stairs.

“Do I have to go put-putting with you?”

He chuckles. “Yes you do. We haven’t hung out lately and I miss you.”

“But put-put?”

“Oh hush, you always complain at first and then end up having so much fun.” Danny says as he grabs your wrist and drags you to the door. Your silent plea for Jake’s help only makes him chuckle as he waves goodbye to you.

Once he sees Danny’s car disappear from view of the house, Jake makes a beeline for the kitchen and grabs the cookbook again and skims the pages again until he finds a recipe that he knows that neither of you have tried before. Reading the ingredients he would need, he quickly runs to the pantry and gathers what you do have at the house and sets them on the counter.

“Chicken.. Chicken..” He mumbles as he digs through the big freezer in the garage. “Steak, no. I need chicken. Chicken breasts. Ha! Hmph..” His shoulders drop when he realizes he picked up a frozen pack of more steak. “How much fucking steak do we have?” Having no such luck finding what he needs, he closes the freezer and runs back inside to retrieve his keys and wallet.

Scanning the meat aisle, he clicks his tongue in a song-like pattern until he finds the chicken breast. Snatching up a couple packs, extra for whenever you two might want some later on. Making his way back through the store to check out, he pauses when he sees a little boy tugging at the pant leg of who Jake assumes is his father. He holds up a candy bar for the man to see and gives him the biggest pouting lip Jake has ever seen a kid before. There’s not a doubt in his mind he would give in to that face if that kid were his.

He continues to watch as the man chuckles and takes the candy bar from the little boy and drops it into their basket. Jake looks at the little boy who smiles so widely as he jumps up and down and profusely thanks the man.

It was at that moment that he felt his heart drop to his stomach. That could have been him. If everything worked out in their favor, he could have been in that position with a two year old pulling on his clothes and begging him for a toy or a piece of candy.

You were pregnant. It happened that night he said he wanted a baby with you. He was so overjoyed, the both of you were. But the twenty week mark came, he was out at the hardware store picking up more screws for the crib to finish assembling it, he thought getting the nursery ready early would put the two of you at ease, one less thing that you two needed to worry about.

But as he scanned the aisle shelves for the exact screw he needed, his phone rang out in his pocket. When he answered it, the damn screw didn’t matter anymore because he dropped everything that was in his arms and ran out of the hardware store.

That night, you lost the baby. You had refused to see the tiny little babe but Jake wanted to. Jake wanted to see the little bean you and he had created. He still remembers to this day when he gently ran the tip of his finger along the top of his son’s head.

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, he turns around the boy and his father and makes his way to the self checkout and pays for the chicken. Making it back home, he tosses the chicken on the counter before rushing upstairs to get changed.

Laughing at Danny’s horrible joke, you climb out of the car and he walks you up to the front door. “Thanks for hanging out with me today.”

“Of course, Danny. I had fun. It really has been a while since the two of us hung out, I’ve missed that.”

“Well, tell Jake how badly you beat me today,” He laughs. “And don’t forget, you’ll always be my best girl.”

“Daniel Robert, you have been oddly sentimental today. Are you alright?”

He quickly nods his head. “Just grateful is all.”

You give him one last hug before pushing open the front door. The instant smell of food cooking makes your stomach rumble. “Seems like Jake’s been cooking.” You say with a giggle. “Goodbye Danny, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Stepping into the house, you shut the front door behind you and slip off your shoes. “Jake?” You call. “Jake, baby, I’m home!” Not receiving an answer, you head for the kitchen only to find it empty. Though when you turn to leave, you spot Jake sitting at the dining room table patiently waiting for you.

A bouquet of roses sits in a vase on the table and a couple of candles are lit. The food is perfectly plated and resting in your spots at the table. Jake, though, catches your eye. He’s dressed in more of a business casual look. A nice pair of jeans, his black boots, a black button down shirt but instead of only the last two or three buttons done up, more than half of the buttons are done up. His hair is curled and hanging loosely over his shoulder and he touched up his mustache and goatee.

You slowly approach the dining room and he stands up. “And to what do I owe just a smashingly handsome boyfriend and a beautiful dinner?”

“I just want to spoil my girl.” He says, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in for a kiss.

“And you’ve got cologne on.” You say when the two of you pull apart. “Your fancy kind at that.”

He chuckles and walks you over to your chair. “I tried out a new recipe, one we haven’t had yet.” He says as he pushes in your chair and takes a seat back at his. “It’s chicken breasts marinated in a lime and cilantro rub on top of normal spaghetti. Seemed pretty easy to make.”

He watches you as you cut into your chicken and take a bite. “Oh god.. Jake..” You moan. He feels the blood rush to his dick. “This is so good.”

“Yeah?”

You eagerly nod your head. “I don’t know what you have planned up your sleeve nor do I care. You, Jake, have mastered yet another dish.”

He chuckles at your enthusiasm and takes a bite of his. Throughout dinner, you talk about your evening with Danny. You had asked him what he had done while you were gone, aside from cooking this dinner. He wanted to tell you about the little boy but decided against it and instead told you about all the steak that’s being hoarded in the freezer.

“Which is why I bought a couple of extra packs of chicken breasts, kind of counteracting the steak.” He says.

Finishing up with dinner, Jake takes the empty dishes to the sink. “Dinner was fantastic, per usual.” You say wrapping your arms around him from behind as he rinses off the plates. “Are you sure you still want to be a rockstar? I could see you opening your own restaurant.”

He chuckles and turns his head slightly. “You could see that, hmm?” You nod your head and he smiles. “Well, maybe in another life I did.”

He turns to face you and wipes his hands off on a dish towel. “Go to the living room and sit down on the couch. I’ve got dessert waiting in the freezer.”

“First dinner and now dessert? You really are spoiling me tonight.”

He smiles and gives you a kiss. “Go on now. I’ll be there in a minute.”

He waits until you disappear into the living room before he turns to the drawer beside the fridge. The junk drawer, a drawer he knows you never touch. Pulling open the drawer, he retrieves the little black box and takes the ring out. He stuffs it into his pocket. Opening the freezer, he pulls out a couple bowls of ice cream and retrieves spoons before heading into the living room.

“Ice cream?” You question as he sets the bowls on the coffee table.

“Your favorite.” He says. “But before you eat.”

You watch as he slides off the couch and kneels down in front of you. Your heart hammers in your chest at the thought of what he’s doing.

“I uh,” He clears his throat and nervously giggles. “I did have this whole speech planned but I’m nervous as fuck right now.. So I’m just gonna jump straight into it.. Will you marry me?”

You giggle and lean forward on the couch. You reach for his face and pull him in for a kiss. “So is that a yes?” He mumbles against your lips.

“Yes, Jake. It’s a yes.”

He breathes a sigh of relief and gives you another kiss before slipping the ring on your finger. “I fucking love you.” He says as he kisses you.

You pull away and rest your hands on his cheeks. “I need to ask you something.” You say.

“I’m leaving my tux unbuttoned, I don’t care.” He says, making you laugh.

You shake your head and drop your hands to his shoulder. “How would you feel about having another baby?” You say.

His shoulders drop and his jaw falls slack. “Are you… Are you pregnant?” You nod your head. “For real?” His voice cracks and his eyes fill tears. His eyes fall down to your stomach and sinks further to the floor. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you to the edge of the couch before pressing his face into your stomach. Embracing his head in your arms, you lean over and kiss the top of his head.

“I wanted to tell you earlier today before Danny whisked me off, the whole point of me being naked.” His body shakes as he laughs against your stomach.

He picks up his head to look at you. “And here I thought it was just to get me to fuck you.”

“Hmmm, it was so that too.” You say laughing. “So do we tell ‘em?” You say, referring to his brothers.

He shakes his head and rests his head on top of your thigh. “No.. Not yet.. Let it be our own little secret… For now.”

__________________________________________________

tag list:

@losfacedevil @lightmylove-gvf @ignite-my-fire @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @writingcold @jaketlove @mackalah @lexii-nv-c @thetroublegetssoloud71 @emilykamo @em-gvf01 @katiegvf @joshkiszkaenthusiast @takenbythemadness @jakekiszkasmommy @objectsinspvce @gvfmarge @heckingfrick @bluemeadows77 @laneygvf @sacredmachine

#greta van fleet fic #jake kiszka #jake kiszka fanfic #greta van fleet fanfic #jake kiszka fic #greta van fleet #jake kiszka smut #dirty little secret

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pencil-peach · 2 months

Text

Thinking about Persona 4 Arena Ultimax

Specifically the Persona 3 side of it.

I think it's interesting (and kinda funny) how a lot of the P3 content in this game is built upon the many CD Dramas that released in Japan following Persona 3/FES' releases, specifically the New Moon/Full Moon and Daylight/Moonlight Duologies.

As what's most likely the largest example, Labrys, one of the two major characters introduced in the game, was actually named in the Moonlight CD, which was released back in 2007 (Arena was released in 2012, for reference)

"The 7th Generation, Aigis, was created from all the data we'd obtained from all prior designs up to the 5th Generation, Labrys." (Moonlight)

Aigis' and Labrys' motivation of finding their mother is also building upon the story of Moonlight, where Aigis is able to speak with the girl whose personality was one of the bases used for the Anti-Shadow Weapon development project, and who refers to herself as her mother (but looks more like her younger sister).

"That's right... in human terms, I guess I'm kinda like your mother or something? A-ah, but based on our outward appearances, I guess I look more like your younger sister?" (Moonlight)

(For context, she is forced to forget this meeting at the end of the CD, but resolves to meet with the girl in real life. She isn't named, but we're told she has black hair.)

I think Mitsuru is the most interesting, as her appearance in the game is almost wholly influenced by the story of the New Moon/Full Moon Drama CDs, which are a side story covering her and the broader Kirijo Group's situation immediately following Takeharu's death, released in 2009.

Mitsuru's story opens up with her going public about the bloody past of the Kirijo Group and the existence of the Dark Hour and Shadows. This is following up on her resolution near the end of Full Moon, where she states plainly that this is the path she's going to take.

Ichiro Takadera: "Well then, do you intend to make a public announcement regardless of what follows? About the Shadows and so on?"

Mitsuru: "That is my path in life. I cannot stray from it." (Full Moon)

Kikuno Saikawa, Mitsuru's right hand maid and one of the shadow operatives, also made her debut in New/Full Moon. The two of them met when they were children, and Kikuno vowed to protect Mitsuru after she'd saved her from her despair as a child.

Kikuno: "Six years ago, when I learned my stay at the hospital wasn't because of illness but because I was sold over by my parents, you were the one who saved me from my despair. On that day, I swore I'd devote my life to following this person." (Full Moon)

Ultimax was the first time she was given a design, but she would later appear in the Persona 3 Movie: Winter of Rebirth. Her characterization in Ultimax is pretty faithful to her depiction in the CD.

(A fun fact is that Kikuno was also mentioned in the "Seaside Vacation Before Death's Scythe" Drama CD, which was released in 2013 as a promotion for the then upcoming first Persona 3 Movie, Spring of Birth.)

One of the Kirijo artifacts mentioned in Mitsuru's prologue is a ring that gives its wearer immunity to the effects of the Dark Hour. This too is an object introduced in New/Full Moon.

"Also, there is no need to worry, as everyone who are not in possession of special powers, including me, will wear this ring. While it's on you are able to experience the Dark Hour and even when you take it off your memories of it will remain." (New Moon)

Something that doesn't come up in Ultimax is that if you smash the jewel in the center of the ring, you'll lose all your memories of the Dark Hour. It's an interesting little thing! I mean it's. Useless now cause the Dark Hour is gone but it's pretty cool...

Mitsuru's main internal conflict is her inability to ask others for help for fear of burdening or endangering them. This is something that comes up in Persona 3, but in the Drama CDs this aspect of her character is very deeply explored. It's her main emotional arc and the source of her conflict with Yukari in both the New/Full Moon CDs and Persona 3 Character Drama Vol. 4, which focuses on their relationship.

Yukari: Is your faith in us that weak?

Mitsuru: To be frank, I can't bear it anymore. I don't want others to die for my sake!

Y: And you're gonna sacrifice yourself because of that? Why do you take on so much by yourself? Is that really okay with you? Don't you want to see your friends and family again?! And to survive?! Why can't you just be honest?!

M: Of course I want to! But...that is...what should I say? It's always like that...whenever I get soft or burden others... They might end up dying again. [...] Aragaki, and my Father... What am I supposed to tell you after all that happened? Even if I'm afraid and wish to be saved, what do I say?! What should I say?! (Full Moon)

Yukari even brings up that they've had this talk before. It could be referring to their heart to heart in Kyoto, but I think it could also be read as their conflicts in the CDs too.

When Ken asks Kikuno where she learned to fly a helicopter, she states that she learned it after being involved in an assault operation on a high school dormitory, an incident which Ken says he remembers. (Say it with me now!) This is most likely referencing the climax in Full Moon, where the Kirijo Group led by Takadera attempt to raid Iwatodai Dorm and forcibly apprehend SEES, so as to avoid the possibility of Ikutsuki's plot and the Group's sins from becoming public.

There's definitely more stuff, but I just wanted to point out the things I noticed/particularly liked with Mitsuru's story.

I think Junpei suffers the most from having a lot of his characterization be taken from the CDs. A lot of people were (and still are) confused about P4AU Junpei's seemingly sudden hard pivot to Baseball, as in Persona 3 proper, it's not a very large aspect of his character.

But in the CDs, Junpei being Into Baseball is MUCH more prominent. As in he refers to everyday situations in baseball terms sometimes.

In Persona 3 Character Drama Vol 2., (released in 2008 and centered around Junpei and Chidori) Junpei dreams about taking Chidori out on a date, and eventually settles on asking her to go to a baseball game with him. (She accepts, if you were curious).

He talks with Chidori about baseball so much that she got into it herself and started watching baseball in the hospital.

At the end of Moonlight, the SEES gang talk about what they want to do after they defeat Nyx, and Junpei says he wants to go to a baseball game. They even kind of tacitly explain why he didn't talk about it all that much ingame by saying he'd fallen out of interest in it but that he "feels like it's returned in full force!"

The thing about P4AU's heavy references to the CDs though, especially in Junpei's case, is that they were never officially translated or released outside of Japan. To this day the only way for non-Japanese speaking audiences to experience the CDs is to listen to them with (usually slightly incomplete) fansubs online.

While I kind of appreciate the novelty of that, it's definitely caused some confusion when it comes to characterization. In P3 Reload, for instance, Junpei makes a lot more references to baseball in his dialogue. And for a lot of people, it feels like the purpose of that is to retroactively make Junpei's appearance in P4AU make more sense.

And while that's not incorrect, it misses the fact that Junpei was already established to like baseball in supplementary material before Arena came out. It's more like making his character consistent with the same material that P4AU used when writing Junpei.

But it's not like you can even blame people for thinking that because a lot of people are normal and don't listen to 16 year old fan translated Drama CDs uploaded to youtube. It's just interesting to me I suppose. I wonder how much characterization we miss due to lack of access to supplementary material.

Anyway you should listen to the CDs though they're really good. New Moon/Full Moon especially.

Moonlight is also very good, it's a pseudo-prelude to The Answer, and the character writing is top notch.

But that's all I had to say, really. Just thought it'd be fun to talk about.

Translation Credits: imaginary_numbers (Moonlight) pipeds (New Moon) pipeds (Full Moon)

#if you're a yukamitsu warrior #watch new moon/full moon #character drama cd vol 4 #and moonlight #but the rest are also just really good. the characters feel like their authentic selves #afraid to put this in a persona tag cause i dont want people to yell at me over some perceived inadequacy #they're also very well acted too #like god damn

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mylittleredgirl · 29 days

Text

previously on mylittleredgirl: [four seasons of m*a*s*h] [six weeks of screaming about margaret houlihan]

i have now finished season five disc one and a bullet point recap is due! [yeah there's more screaming in it]

bug out was a fucking DELIGHT

god i was so worried though when klinger had to trade all his dresses i was wailing internally. what if he just wears fatigues forever!?!??? but it's all okay!!!! that tassel mod dress he has on in "the abduction of margaret houlihan" healed me ten times over. his outfits have been 🔥 this season.

such a mix of really dumb slapstick comedy and "oh god the war is Right Here" drama and little character sweetness... love it.

and the family reunion happiness at the end!!!! god bless. i left my body for like thirty-six hours.

i really really love the tone they're striking with frank this season. they've walked back the cartoon villainy of late season four, so he's once again a relatively harmless clown. i breathed a huge sigh of relief. he's soooo much more fun this way.

margaret's engagement: bonkers. delightful. she's unbearable. there is so much wrong with her. i want to study her in a jar. i will never shut up again.

with this put together with some bits later in the disc (including that cut scene crayon joke lmao), did she somehow manage to trade DOWN from frank? is that even possible??? it's either that or this new dude is actually just The Exact Same Guy, but now she'll be the fool wife at home instead of the beloved mistress.

i mean personally if i were louise burns i'd be very happy for my dumbass husband to fuck around on the other side of the world for as long as possible while i enjoy the $35,000 house and two cars without him, but for someone like margaret who is far more interested in being wined and dined than running a household, this... may not be the field promotion she thinks it is.

hawkeye rising to frank's defense and him and b.j. enabling frank's little takedown of margaret at the end felt very real. sure, in the grand scheme of things, margaret is Annoying and frank tried to have hawkeye executed last season, but bros before hos.

okay how FUNNY would it be though if the "little redheaded nurse" frank planned to seduce was baker-from-the-nurses, because she would have scratched frank's eyes out for trying and not felt bad about it

and actually, that's a plausible backstory for the extra bad blood between her and margaret, too??? oh yeah. that definitely happened.

i actively missed frank/margaret as the disc went along though. maybe the show had stretched the tension of that relationship as tight as it could go, and it's nice that they get to do new things... but they're so funny and awful together and i miss them sharing scenes!!!

i really assumed - like frank did lol - that they would continue to rabbit around together, only now she would also get to string him along with the jealousy game, but...... well, i'm glad it's still hanging out in the background of the narrative, anyway. i live in hope that they will slip and fuck and it will be soooo messy.

FUCK is it possible i shipped that for real???? god. i don't know if my family name can bear this dishonor.

out of sight, out of mind...

...has taught us the very important lesson that hawkeye is 9000x more annoying without something to do (annoying to everyone else i mean!! not to me. i will happily watch him annoy everyone.)

him asking b.j. to visit him a million times a day 🥺

i'm almost satisfied now by the "doctor-experiences-the-role-of-patient" theme that i didn't get in "hawkeye." i suppose hurt/comfort fic can take it from here.

however i'm totally satisfied by how sweet it was to see everyone taking care of him!! and how much they love him!!

lt. radar o'reilly... devastating. i mean funny and delightful but it's mean!! so glad that boy is back in stripes. however they could have at least promoted him a little for his trouble. sergeant o'reilly???

i have already said more about the nurses (post here) than ever needed to be said. and yet. i'm quite sure i could say more if pressed

the abduction of margaret houlihan

........ will i never be free of colonel flagg episodes 😞

i love the continuing evidence that she has invested time in learning korean, and i really really really love the slow expansion of our perspective to include like oh yeah. there's a village where people live full time and it's literally right here.

imagine if after the war she becomes an ob nurse...

on the one hand, how do they not make frank do gun handling training. on the other hand they probably don't because it always ends with stitches and an accident report.

i sometimes wonder if mash was like jury duty for asian actors in the 70s. you probably won't get to say anything but they call you up and you just have to go.

dear sigmund!!!!!! this is another episode where people were staring at me through the window so i'll comment a little more:

the fandom's favorite guy sidney freedman deserves that crown. what a weirdo. talk about a busman's holiday for a psychiatrist to come to the 4077 for a vacation and psychoanalyze everyone. but for fun!

i really don't have a proper sense of the geography at play here because he really does like. just come by to play cards once a week. and drives through a war zone i guess to do it? he has probably sacked out in the swamp before when the air raid situation changes but this time he just... doesn't leave.

and aaaa!! margaret took her very special episode about How To Make Friends to heart!!!! she joined the poker game!!!

she had plenty of time to work on that lesson though because the jeremy bearimy time shenanigans are in full swing here at the 4077. we went from midsummer in 'the nurses' to a bitter cold march two episodes later.

i always kind of assumed the mash weather was loosely inspired by real human weather, but no, in fact the actors just have to randomly suffer in parkas or getting sprayed in the face to look sweaty in alternating weeks regardless of the surrounding conditions.

SUFFERING for their ART

also jfc b.j.!!!! dunking frank in cold water in freezing temperatures is a serious health and safety concern my dude!!!!

i'm afraid b.j. is still not beating the little brother allegations, he has just aged up from innocent baby to fucking gremlin

(i should confess that my little brother diagnosis is guided by the fact that in my complex family and housing history i only ever lived with "brothers" younger than me, and never older ones. but the innocent baby and prank gremlin stages are real.)

i made a note here of "margaret randomly drinking gin in the swamp now!!?!??" like the poker game was one thing, people could strong-arm her into that while she feigns protest, but ma'am WHO are you and what have you done with— and then the next note is "oh good she's still insane"

potter named his horse sophie <3 also he's collecting granddaughters, i think the count is up to 3 now. or baby sherry is experiencing a temporal anomaly of her own!

the letter radar wrote to the dead guy's parents and potter reading it... fucking ended me. please let harry morgan do serious bits more often, it's outstanding and far too rare.

it's not surprising that frank's wife changing (wearing pants! doing activities!) would stress him out, and not just because he's a dick. any of them would struggle with their families growing without them, because that means they can Never Go Home to the life they left!! (e.g. trapper losing it because his girls were getting older.) but it is kind of fascinating that he loves both his wife and margaret, and even said mid-fever that he wanted them to be friends, but he also wants them to be NOTHING alike.

all in all it's understandable that sidney would check in to the no boundaries motel to have his poker buddies shake it out of him, but he could also have taken his leave somewhere with indoor heat. so he's as crazy as the rest of them. <3

also they're not his patients he's just observing them like zoo animals so forget confidentiality he's absolutely gonna write a book about them someday.

mulcahy's war: i don't know why i have been misspelling his name with an 'e' the whole time because it was literally in the end credits of almost every episode for four seasons.

oh god he's so precious i don't talk about it enough. playing poker for orphans. feeling like he doesn't do enough while potter thinks he has the hardest job. that unrelenting positive regard for everyone. always with that little grin.

that little grin in FULL PLAY as he sneaks out of the house to go off to war when dad's not looking

radar should never be sent on a mission where people are bleeding when will they LEARN

corporal cupcake deserves every medal he gets!!!!

frank's foot fetish becoming his one true medical specialty is just. i don't know what to do with this. good for him??? do what you love and you'll never work a day in your life???

speaking of unrelenting positive regard, margaret's policy of nurses never talking back to the doctors in the operating room sure has taken a hit. i realize this is about frank being an intolerable ex, but i choose to believe that the detente between margaret and her nurses has turned the O.R. into a pvp zone. the next time hawkeye tries to seduce a nurse over an open body, he's gonna get wrecked and margaret's just going to shrug pretty and look the other way.

in conclusion: season five is soooo gooooooood!!!!! can't wait for disc two!

#mashblogging #it's about time i watched mash #if you read all this you get a medal 🏅

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 11 months

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Yandere Katakuri with Female Tanjiro Reader, after she gives birth to their first child, a son, who looks similar to Katakuri (He grows pretty big as a baby within a month, he’s got his father’s genes) and a some years go by, with Reader and Katakuri having 6 children, 5 sons (Who all grow bigger than her and have a bigger resemblance to their father) and their one and only daughter (Their youngest, who is a splitting image of Reader, but has little fangs, similar to Nezuko), who Katakuri is very protective of, as she’s very small but she likes to snuggle into his scarf to nap next to his face (Katakuri also names all their sons after food, which caught her off guard, but she doesn’t mind it, finding it rather cute, from Glaze, Maple, Jelly, Cruller and Beignet, but Reader names their daughter, and to keep the food theme going, she thought it’s honestly adorable names her Sakura Mochi, or Mochi for short)

Daughter isn’t scared of Katakuri’s face, rather she gets really happy and coos whenever she sees his entire face as a baby and now toddler, as one time as a newborn she was having a really bad day, and kept crying until it getting dark, with Reader, Big Mom, Pudding and other Charlottes trying everything they could think of to calm her down, but Reader went to her and Katakuri’s bedroom to try and get her to sleep, only for Katakuri to rush in after hearing what happened, and in his panic didn’t realize his scarf fell to the floor and was horrified when his daughter got a full view of his face, only to his surprise, she began to stop crying and was now reaching for him, giggling and cooing, happy to see her him, and Reader believed Daughter was upset because she missed her ‘daddy’)

Daughter loves to be with him 24/7 (Katakuri isn’t screaming, nor is he clenching his chest, trying not to cry, especially when his daughter’s first word was ‘Papa’, he’s questioning how did he get so lucky to have such a loving wife, but children of his own, all his sons wants to be strong just like him to protect their mommy and their other relatives, with his daughter just like Reader in appearance and personality)

-To say he was nervous was an understatement, Katakuri wearing a hole into the pavement outside your shared house, after he had been kicked out for hovering and threatening the doctors who were helping you, along with Pudding and Nezuko.

-It was your first child together and you had been basically on bedrest for the whole of your second and third trimester, you were huge, you could barely move let alone walk, so your husband had to carry you everywhere.

-You on the other hand were very calm and levelheaded, taking the pain in stride, doing everything you were supposed to be, which stunned doctors but Pudding thought was funny, that you were calm while your husband was the panicking one.

-Nine hours passed before the cry of a baby was heard and all of the Charlotte siblings, plus Mama, were all camped out in the front yard, instantly melted, hearing that sound.

-Pudding came out a few minutes later, “Big brother Katakuri, would you like to meet your son?” he felt something he had never felt before in his chest, it felt like love and fear all at the same time.

-Katakuri had never cried once in his life, until he entered the bedroom he shared with you, seeing Nezuko curled up fast asleep at the end of the bed, tuckered out, and seeing you, now cleaned up, holding and nursing your baby, smiling warmly at him as the first tears fell, overwhelmed with happiness.

-Mama was ugly crying when he came out, cradling his son close and many of the siblings were quick to congratulate him, many asking how you were, “Y/N is sleeping now, and everything went smoothly. Mama, everyone, this is my son, Glaze.”

-Several years passed and you were resting quietly, curled up to your husband, your newest baby and only daughter was sound asleep in his arms, Sakura Mochi, or just Mochi for short.

-You had blessed Katakuri with a total of six children, all boys, until your daughter surprised you all. Many had been teasing Katakuri that all he was getting was boys and that if this baby was a girl, he was going to be whipped.

-That is exactly what happened!

-Your boys, Glaze, Maple, Jelly, Cruller, and Beignet were all spitting images of their father, all of them taller than you by the time they were seven, and all were very protective over you and Nezuko both.

-And when you introduced little Mochi to them, just like their father, they were immediately whipped, she looked just like you, tiny, adorable, and so sugary sweet looking, they couldn’t help but fall in love instantly.

-You decided, after Mochi, and your husband supported your decision, that you were done with having children, having 5 boys and 1 girl, you were content with your little family.

-Your sons were all rambunctious and full of energy, but with Mochi, they treated her like the most delicate glass in the world, as if she would shatter, but most of them hadn’t been around a baby this small, as you had taken a few years break from having children after you had Beignet.

-Katakuri was also extremely gentle, as she was so much smaller than her brothers, she was the size of a normal baby, but just like her brothers and father, she had a big appetite and was almost always whining to be fed.

-Mochi was definitely a daddy’s girl, whenever she would see him, unless if you were feeding her, she was waving her arms, wanting him to hold her, which he couldn’t understand but you just beamed, “She just loves her papa, right Mochi~” she giggled, grabbing onto his scarf as she was pulling herself up to see him.

-Katakuri was always hesitant to show his face to your children, at least until they were older and coming into their own, similar teeth, as he didn’t want to scare them, but Mochi was different, she would whine and cry if she couldn’t see all of her daddy’s face, which melted him inside and out.

-You remember that day well, when she first saw his whole face, it was when she was teething and having a rough time, frozen fruits did little to curb her pain and she spent hours crying unless if she was being held.

-There was one night that was terrible, Katakuri wasn’t home and you had taken Mochi to the farthest point in the house away from your other children so they could sleep, trying everything you could to sooth her pain.

-You were nearly in tears yourself before the door opened and you instantly found yourself in your husband’s arms, holding you close and instantly Mochi whimpered, reaching up for her papa and she managed to grab his scarf and pulled it off.

-But rather than being afraid, she smiled brightly, seeing his mouth, his teeth which stunned him before he had a new issue of trying to keep her hands out of his mouth, which you thought was amusing.

-Once she was calmed down and fast asleep on his chest and you were curled up next to him, you smiled softly, pecking his cheek, “I’m glad that you’re home, and I think Mochi is too, she missed her daddy.” He chuckled softly, trying to play it off cool but inside he was an exploding mess of fireworks, hearts, and tears, pecking your cheek back.

-You loved your family, your sister Nezuko, your loving husband, all of your protective in-laws, and your six children, and while you knew it would never replace the family you lost all those years ago, your family filled you with so much love you felt like you could burst.

#katakuri #tanjiro reader

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pinkcherryblossom18 · 1 year

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I’ve watched the movie Constantine and have been having Batsis thoughts so this was born. Also so that this is better, in canon John is like 20 years older than Bruce so I changed it so that in this he’s like five years older than Batsis.

Tw: Murder, Drugging, and Demons

18+, not my responsibility for your actions, minors.

Batsis, the daughter of a True North and being expected to follow in her mother's footsteps after her death.

Batsis who doesn’t know who her father is, she stopped asking when she was four because her mom gets annoyed or deflects her questions.

Batsis who witnessed her mother murder a man at six, her saying that his blood was needed for a spell. Batsis not saying anything and going with it, not expecting her mother to bring home a kid, a little boy, and kill him right in front of her. She tries to convince herself that despite what her teacher told her this wasn’t bad, her mother wasn’t a bad woman right?

Batsis who hides to the best of her ability when Batman storms her house, taking her mother away. She tries to stay quiet, hoping that he wouldn’t find her but it was the small sniffles of her crying that drove him to her.

Batsis being brought to her grandparents, them taking her in for the night but doing a spell the next night because she needs to be raised by a parent at least. They end up finding who it is a few hours later.

Batsis going into Bruce’s care when she was six after her mom got sent to jail, not knowing who her father really was and even after finding out it’s Bruce still isn’t really sure who he actually is.

Batsis who likes to sneak away and hide in the manor, Bruce barely ever being able to find her unless she wanted him to, Alfred always seems to know where she is but never telling Bruce if he asks because she needs to warm up to Bruce in her own time and it’s slightly funny.

Batsis who doesn’t actually talk to Bruce, only nods or the shaking of her head being the only acknowledgment that he gets or small sarcastic quips from her from occasion but he doesn’t care because it’s something.

Batsis who finds out that Bruce is Batman when she’s eight, this is the first time that she talks in full sentences even when it’s yelling at him. But this time as she’s yelling her magic is getting out of control, accidentally sending a knife toward Bruce’s head that he barely dodged. She’s mortified, scared by herself and still pissed off at Bruce so she leaves him in the kitchen, standing shock still at what just happened.

Batsis who locks herself away for almost an entire month, Bruce sees her less in that month than he did those first two years that she had been hiding from him, a small ghost in his manor.

Batsis who starts repressing her magic, taking small doses of mistletoe in the morning unknowingly to Bruce and Alfred. She fights it off at night, finally getting her magic repressed enough at ten that she doesn’t have to take the mistletoe anymore.

Batsis who at eleven years old finally tries to have a relationship with her father, trying to go from silent and sarcastic quips to actual conversations. Bruce deciding to take her to the circus that was in Gotham for a few nights, wanting to bond with the only blood family that he has left.

Batsis first meeting Dick before his parents died, the boy having time to roam around before the show started. A nine year old Dick and a eleven year old Batsis meeting behind a tent because she has a tendency to wander away from her father, meaning to or just when something distracts her or catches her attention. They hit it off and start becoming mildly friends before Dick had to leave because the show was about to start.

Batsis coming home one day from visiting her mom who’s in jail and finding that nine year old Dick sitting in a chair at her fathers house. Finding out from Alfred, not Bruce, that Dick is going to be living with them.

Batsis who is slightly rude and very distant from Dick, watching as he runs away and not stopping or saying anything to Bruce about it. She was once caught by Dick who asked her if she was going to tell her father and all she did was shake her head and leave, unknowingly gaining some of Dicks respect.

Batsis who kind of warms up to Dick but is still distant from him, helping him with homework or bully’s at school but never having a total and meaning conversation with the boy.

Batsis who is actually really smart and getting good grades but making sure that Bruce never knows because she feels like he hasn’t deserved to actually be her father. She gets all A’s on her freshman report card at the end of the year and doesn’t tell Bruce but comes to the manor and finds a cupcake and a congratulations from Alfred laying on her bed.

Batsis having a small grudge against Bruce because she always feels left behind. With Dick first and now with Jason coming in.

Batsis first met Jason when she was sixteen, finding out and silently praising the twelve-year-old boy for taking the tires off of the batmobile. Unlike her first interactions with Dick, Batsis just keeps her distance, small talk, and helping with homework and bullys.

At sixteen Batsis starts having issues with her magic, starting to come out of the repression that she put it in for six years. Starting to consume mistletoe in her morning tea once again and this time around consuming it at night.

One night Jason catches Batsis, watching her choke down the tea and add more mistletoe in it. Halfway through the torture that she’s putting herself through she catches him watching. Jason almost leaves, expecting to be yelled at or for the girl to start stuttering and explain herself but all she does is invite Jason in her room, something that she never did with Dick and Jason still holds it over his head, and with the small doses of magic that she has summons Jason his own cup of tea.

No stuttering, stumbling or mumbling of explanations that Jason expected, they just sat there in silence drinking their tea. After that night Jason comes back, sitting down on Batsis’s bed and waiting for his cup tea, never getting an explanation and never expecting one.

She loves the boys but is usually putting a lot of distance between them. And it doesn’t help that she decided to not become another Robin or something beside her dad.

Batsis leaving after she graduates from college, going wherever she feels like trying to find herself before she starts looking for jobs in her department of study, and doing to her feelings like she does everything else, pushing her feelings or thoughts back until she can’t handle them anymore.

Batsis finding herself in Los Angeles, roaming around in alleyways and trying to avoid trouble but almost being hit by a mirror that flies out of one of the apartments, backing away when the demon in it pops out for a few moments before going back to hell.

Batsis who looks up and makes eye contact with the man who she assumes did this. She expects him to ask if she’s okay but instead she just gets a nod of acknowledgment before he goes back in.

Batsis who isn't aware of how much this simple meeting will change everything.

#batsis #batfamily #john constantine x reader #bruce wayne x reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #john constantine #dick grayson #bruce wayne #jason todd

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kahlanmars · 3 months

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PAPER RINGS part. 12

THIS IS THE FINALE. Final chapter, no more Daisy. So goodbye, Daisy Pinecone, I loved you a lot. Goodbye, Haymitch Abernathy, I wish you were mine. And Goodbye to you, thanks to the kind comments and likes!

MASTERLIST

12. I think I’m gonna marry you

SIX MONTHS LATER

You wake up in the best way you know, with sloppy kisses on your neck and a hand between your legs, the other on your breasts. Unfortunately, today of all days you can’t indulge yourself in such fun activities. You have a little appointment today.

An appointment in white.

«You shouldn’t be here! Effie will be here in a minute.» You scold your partner, since you know what he wants. Oh, you shouldn’t have. You should already be up, preparing yourself for the big day, curling your hair in a complicated braid and all the other things you usually adore to do.

But his eyes are so blue…

«I just couldn’t sleep without you tonight.» He whispers in your ear and you melt at his hot breath. He is so sexy. When did he become so hot? Is it weird that you feel more attracted to him than ever? One thing is true, you are going to be very lucky if you are always going to feel this way. And his scent, that wood and tobacco even though he doesn’t smoke, like a smell he got attached to him since he was a teenager.

There was also alcohol in that scent before, but not anymore. He is sober, not always in the easiest way, but he managed to stay sober so far. You are so freaking proud of him, he is the strongest man you know.

«I know, me neither…» You tried. You really tried, but you couldn’t sleep. You felt excited and scared, and you kept thinking you only wanted to be in his arms. That is a little concerning, the small amount of time that was needed to make you feel like the world was exploding without him.

When you were about to go to your house, your real house and not your mom’s, you saw him sneaking from the window.

This is a signal. A signal that everything is going to be okay, if you and your soon to be husband can’t stay away from each other.

And also a signal you sometimes really behave like teenagers in love.

«But Effie is going to be here any minute and if he finds you here...» She will scold you two. Effie Trinket being allied to your mother was not in your bingo card for the year, but as soon as they heard the words “planned” and “wedding” they teamed up. Effie became big on district tradition, and part of it is that the night before the wedding the girl has to sleep in her mother’s house. Well, usually just because the girl lived there before and now you are living in sin, but for them it’s a detail, a tradition is a tradition and so you spent your night in your mom’s house, dresses in a white simple long nightgown and covered in lilium candidum, to symbolise innocence.

Haymitch laughed for half an hour when you told him they called you “Innocent”, the irony wasn’t lost on him.

«So you are saying I can’t stay in my bed.» He deadpans, and you shake your head, but you are so happy he is with you.

«This is not your bed, this is my mother’s house and you introduced yourself like a thief.» And it’s very hot, but you are not going to tell him that.

He only smirks, like every time he is going to say something that you wouldn’t approve. «It is only my bed when you are in it. And you are a thief. Only thing I stole was your virginity.»

«Haymitch!» You laugh, because he is very stupid sometimes. He has been a serious, shattered, sad person for twenty years, and now that everything seems calmer he is discovering himself as a funny man when he is in a good mood. The sky still has clouds sometimes. «And my heart.»

His gaze softens, a hand on your cheek again, the other playing with your hair. «Aren’t we sweet this morning?»

«It happens when you have to get married.» You still don’t think this is real. You are going to get married. You. Daisy Pinecone. Daisy Pinecone becomes Daisy Abernathy. You are very happy you are taking his name. You are keeping yours, of course, but it’s good to be an Abernathy now.

«In like six hours, babe, nobody is coming in now…» He starts to pepper kisses on your neck. Babe. You developed a taste for this word from his lips, it is tacky from other lips but when he pronounces those words it’s like music, especially if he traces caresses on your shoulders and neck. «Let me wake you properly.»

«Don’t even think about it, the bride has to go down now!» You try to interrupt him, but his hands are already on your butt again, and you feel so desired. He makes you feel powerful and beautiful.

«But I wanted to go down.» He deadpans, and you chuckle. A kid. He is a kid today, and if he is in this goofy mood now it’s because it’s a happy day for him too. He is happy because he is marrying you. What a crazy thought.

«Haymitch… you really have to go. It’s crazy enough that we spent the night together!» You stroke his hair and he grins at you, because usually when you begin like this you end with a fist in his hair.

Not today. You will be stronger.

«I don’t get why, we’ll spend the night together for the rest of our life.»

«But it's tradition.» You pout. «Me in my childhood’s bed, our cat with Katniss and you… going out with the men from the district.»

«Ugh, I’ll pass. I can’t stand those men. They are always complaining about their wives. Why the hell did you get married if you hate your wife?» This is another side of this man that you love. He is not afraid of being himself and if he hates someone he really hates someone.

He is right about the men in the district, most of them treat their wives like shit. At twelve it’s common for women to take care of the house and men go to work outside when they can handle the money, and it’s not fun. Men don’t think what women do it’s a real job, they tend to harass them whenever they can and they generally think they are better. In adulthood men start to dislike women. They think women are shallow and less intelligent than them, and they don’t have a purpose anymore since they are not beautiful anymore. If they give them children, they are seen as an inconvenience and a burden.

This is the life your mother didn’t want. She chose to be alone, and she made the right choice because now she is happy.

This is the life you didn’t want. You never dreamed of getting married with someone from Twelve because you had a lot of examples of good guys who became insufferable old men. But this is not the life you are going to live. First, because Haymitch is already an old man. And second, and most important, he is not like this. He cherishes you, he loves you and he proved it a lot of times.

«Maybe in twenty years you will complain about me too.» You joke.

«In twenty years you will be a ravishing fourty woman and I’ll be a wreck. If I start complaining, finish me off.»

You laugh again, he is in a very good mood today, and you put a hand on his shoulder to get him closer.

«And what are you going to do with me once you have married me, Mr. Abernathy?» This is dangerous business, if you begin to flirt when you can’t make love to him.

«The things I’ll do to you, Mrs. Abernathy.» The hunger in his eyes makes you blush even now. And you believe him, that man has a great fantasy when it comes to you.

«Miss Pinecone! At least for some hours.» You protest.

«It’s too much. I want you mine now.» He bites you on your neck and you almost let out a moan. With your mother in the other room, that’s outrageous. But his teeth are lingering on your skin and what a girl gotta do?

«I am yours. From head to toe. Every inch of my skin…» You whisper in his ear.

«I’ll kiss every bit of skin you have.» You believe him. He has already done it multiple times by now, each of them better than the previous one.

«Is that a promise, my love? We will always be as passionate as we are now?» You ask him, a bit more serious now. You really don’t want to lose that, or the jokeness you have. You know it’s a little shocking for everyone, but he makes you laugh. Really laugh. He is funny, he has a good sense of humour and you can’t help but chuckle when he wants to be hilarious.

Everyone told you that a married life is not easy, you tend to fall into a routine and you end up bored. It is better to be bored than to be constantly in danger, but if you could just avoid it you would be happier.

«Sweetheart, I have to tell myself I cannot eat you and fuck you and kiss you all day… I’m sure that won’t be a concern.» He wants you. He really wants you. He has been wanting you for two years now more or less, and yet you can’t believe it. You remember when you used to daydream about him, a less hot version of him if you have to be honest, because now he is sober, he gained strength thanks to Peeta’s exercises and he washes his hair more.

«Really? You want to have me all the time?» You try to play it cool, but you fail miserably.

«You can’t even imagine…» The bite he gives you, though… that’s not fair. It reminds you of all the time he used his weapons against you. Or against a wall.

«I think I can. Are we behaving like teenagers again?» You ask him, but he shakes his head and kisses your lips again.

«Let me be happy for a minute.»

Happy. You can see it in his smile, in his eyes, in his movements during the day.

«I’m so proud I can make you happy.»

«Feeling mutual. Now, how much do you think we have until our actual teenagers come to our house to find me?» The fact that now you have actual children is scary, because sometimes you feel like a teenager yourself (although you are almost thirty, you have a job and you are about to get married), but in the last few months Katniss got closer to you and you always had a good relationship with Peeta. Lora is the one who got you worried the most, because you clearly remember the moment you thought you lost her, but she is getting better. When you asked her what job she dreamed about, she answered that she doesn’t dream about a job. You are fucking proud of her. Not your mood, because you actually dreamed of multiple jobs in your life, but the fact that she stated it is very good. She is starting to know what she wants.

«Katniss is slower but Peeta will be there any minute and Lora is living with you, but will come to me. But that doesn’t matter because Effie is probably already here, waiting for me to get up.» You kiss his cheek.

«And the fishes?»

«Don’t call them that! Finnick, Annie and Perla will be here in two hours. Perla will bring Cinna, of course.»

«Of course.» His tone is hilarious. He had always been a little jealous of Cinna, because Katniss adores him. He doesn’t understand that the girl loves him like a fun uncle, but she considers him as a father.

«You are still jealous of him and Katniss?» You taunt, but he just snorts, because heaven helps him if he has to name a feeling.

«No, why would I?»

«You jealous, jealous man. She is your daughter, you know?» You are all over him again, he is too cute when he is insecure.

«I have no idea what you are talking about, you crazy wife.»

«You have to go! Don’t even think about it… stop kissing me…» You try to sound convincing, but the moan you let out when he hits that particular spot under the ear exposes you. «Stop… maybe just five minutes.» He smiles like he just conquered the world.

«That’s my girl.» The room soon fills with giggles and kisses.

It’s more than five minutes. You are never sick of each other, but eventually even Haymitch realizes that it’s not ideal for him to be in your mother’s house doing some unholy things. You are sore and still giggling when he goes away, and you stand up from the bed before someone enters through the door.

You watch yourself in the mirror. Your hair is messy and your eyes are tired, Effie is going to be very mad at you. And you don’t even want to start with the nightgown.

«Mother!» You half-yell, because she appears behind you in the mirror. It’s scary and you shouldn’t scare a victor.

It’s weird how you don’t even feel like you are a victor anymore, some days. You are so different from that Daisy, the Daisy who didn’t win the Hunger Games. And yet, sometimes you are still in the arena.

The therapist is helping a lot. You came back from Dr. Aurelius and now she is helping you to understand how it feels, about your choices and you are learning a lot about yourself. Haymitch is going to a therapist too, and so is Lora. You try to help each other in every way possible.

«Daughter! I’ll pretend I didn’t see Haymitch sneaking through the door.» She reaches out for you and she starts to unwrap your night braids. «So… I’m about to lose my daughter.»

Her voice is a little sad. This is not what she wanted for you, and you know it. She always dreamed about a big career for you, a district-shaped career, but she is a known figure in Twelve and she wanted the same thing for you. A recognizable name. The fact that you chose to use the double surname, Pinecone-Abernathy, wounded her a little.

You think she is a little better now. She accepted that you love Haymitch and, most importantly, he loves you. He helped you with your new job, spent a lot of time working with you and that lightened him in her eyes. And you are working, you have your own money, that reassures your mom.

«You won’t lose me! I’m just getting married.» You try to say, but now she has tears in her pretty eyes.

Your mother is very pretty. Prettier now, after the war. She is a bit of a celebrity in Twelve now, she helped everyone during the reconstruction and you caught more than one man lurking at her, but she doesn’t want anybody.

She strokes your hair, and she watches you like you are about to go away.

«But you will be so grown up… and you are starting your shop, and even have an apprentice. You are an adult now.»

You shake your head. You have been an adult for several years now, and you risked your life at least twice.

«I was an adult when I went to the Hunger Games…» You try to resonate, but she is trying not to cry now.

«Yes, but now, now it’s a happy thing.»

«Really? You are happy for me.»

«Yeah well, I didn’t like it so much at first but he is a good man. He loves you. Even I have to admit it. And it’s obvious you love him too.» It’s a great thing for her to admit that Haymitch is a good man.

«I love him so much, mama.»

You hug her. It’s weird, you never hug each other, you are a hugger but not with your mother, and yet you need to hug her now. She squeezes you like she doesn’t want you to leave, but then she takes a step back.

«Promise me you will be happy. There will be problems, in every family there are problems but promise me you will try to be happy.»

«I promise you.»

She smiles and she looks satisfied now.

The dress is beautiful. You designed it after a tale you read, one of those fairy tales your mother used to tell you when you were a little one. The white fabric is thin, maybe a little too thin but you are sure you are so excited you won’t be cold, and there are little flowers and crystals all over it.

Your raven hair is up in a majestic braid, thanks to Effie, and she put crystals and little pearls in it. Apparently she had it back at home, but you have to give it back to her. Your makeup is elegant as you requested, Peeta discovered himself a great painter even on faces.

You look the best you could. You weren’t as stunning as you are now even in the preparations for the Hunger Games.

«Oh, darling girl. You are beautiful.» Effie opens the door and she already has tears in her eyes. She is beautiful. She is one of the bridesmaids, in a light pink dress that suits her shape. You are so happy for her, she is going to be a bride herself in a few months and you are making her the dress, as Portia made Haymitch’s.

After the fashion show you came back to District Twelve and you opened a small shop in the town. It wasn’t easy and you were so scared at first, but it’s turning out great. The shop itself is very cute, with plants and a lot of fabric everywhere and a large table where you can work everyday. It’s rather small, but two girls asked you one day if they could come and learn. You said yes, and you are happy you can teach them. It’s almost like being a teacher again. They are adorable, and they really want to learn from you. You try not to bear them with work, they are still in school, but there is a lot you can teach. They are helping a lot. You like this new district life, people tend to help each other, you spent several times in the bakery with Peeta, and Katniss gives you the animals she hunts. Well, she gives Haymitch the animals she hunts, because you can’t stand the sight of a dead animal. You are well aware this makes you a hypocrite, but you really can’t.

«Thanks to you.» You hug Effie again and you try to memorise her scent. You miss her a lot, now she lives in the Capitol and you are in Twelve, you always talk on the phone but it’s not the same thing. And she is about to get married. Everything is changing, and you are happy because it’s changing for the best, but you would want Effie Trinket in your life again everyday. «Thank you, Eff. You gave me a home when I needed one, and you always protected me.»

She blushes, she is not used to compliments anymore. «No, thanks to you. So, are you ready?»

«No.» You find yourself saying. Not of the marriage, but the wedding. You love a spotlight, you try to remember. Well, you love the idea of a spotlight.

«Yes you are!» She squeezes your arms.

«Yes I am. But what if I trip?»

«Haymitch will catch you.»

«Oh. That’s really sweet.»

«Are we ready?» Finnick comes in, in his dashing suit (you made for him) and he offers you his arm. Thank heaven for Finnick on this day, this is just the face you want to see. «How are you feeling?»

«Scared to trip and fall. But apart from that, you were right. I know this is the right thing, I’m not scared of getting married.»

You hug him too. Somehow he is taller now, and you can tell by his eyes that he is really happy. He is living his best life in Four, with Annie and little Finn, who is growing up joyous and carefree. He will never live the games. Hopefully he will know the games from the school books, when he will be older.

They are trying to have a second child, hoping for a daughter. You are ready to spoil her rotten too.

«Good, because it’s time.»

You start walking, leaning a little to Finnick because of the heels, and you see the people in the aisle. You wanted a little district marriage and not a great Capitol wedding, and you had it but you also managed to gather together the people you love.

Your mother is splendid in her light blue dress and now she looks even younger, calmer and happier. Next to her there are Cinna, Plutarch and Fulvia, Johanna and Finnick with Annie and little Finn, who is being a very good boy; Effie and Portia are on the other side of the aisle, with Chaff and Beetle. Mags and Tigris are in armchairs, because they are too old to be in chairs.

Ivy and Marjorie are here too. You didn’t want Marjorie at first, and Haymitch didn’t even think about it because he knew your position, but you wanted Ivy. You didn’t want to explain to the little girl why she wasn’t at your wedding. So you knocked at the woman’s door and you talked for hours. You will never be friends, but she explained the situation to you and she promised she would never do something like that again. You agreed to be civil, for baby Ivy. You swore to protect her, after all.

Effie, Perla and Lora are behind you, the bridesmaid and the maid of honour. You are going to be Effie’s and she is yours. You designed their dresses to suit them, because your friends have to be beautiful.

On the other side, Peeta and Katniss are behind Haymitch.

Oh, Haymitch. He is dashing in his suit, and you didn’t even think he would have worn a suit, but he is and he is smiling about it. When you are next to him he winks at you.

«Do you want to take this woman as your wife, to live together in matrimony, to love her, to honour her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?» The major asks him.

«Yes.» He takes your hand and you have to resist the urge to smack him, because that’s not the tradition. «I would be crazy not to have her as a wife.»

You blush, and you blow him a kiss. The major represses the urge to roll his eyes, you just know.

«Do you want to take this man as your husband, to live together in matrimony, to love him, to honour him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?» Now this is your turn.

You watch him with your doe eyes, and you keep your hands in his.

«Of course I want to!» You answer with joy.

«You may kiss the bride.» The major offers, and he barely ends the sentence before Haymitch takes you in his arms to kiss you with passion.

Twelve might be the poorest District, but you people know how to party.

Not a Capitol party, a Twelve one. Katniss sings old songs, there is a band and everyone is dancing. Your mother is the heart of the dance, she was a wonderful dancer when she was younger. You watch Finn and Ivy giggling together, your best friends moving with the music and you find yourself happy. Mags and Tigris are sitting down, chatting like the old ladies they are, and Chaff is with them, remembering old days.

Everything is going fine now. Perla and Cinna are in Capitol City, trying to live an adult normal life, they are not talking about a wedding but they would like to have a child. Effie and Portia are on the verge of preparing for their special day, and you think you are going to spend a lot of time in the Capitol to help them, especially Effie.

Lora is living with you and Haymitch. She has good days and worse ones, but she is managing it. She wants to travel, when she will be better, to see other cities, other places, other districts. She sometimes babbles about going over the district, in the land where you don’t know what the hell is there.

You go near Haymitch and you kiss his cheek. He is thinking, alone on the porch, but he doesn’t startle: you can’t surprise him. He smells like wood and cologne today and it’s different, but good different.

Your husband. Now he is your husband.

«So, we are married.» You state, a smile on your face. But he has his dose of dumb smiles on his face too, so you are not too worried.

«I’m very lucky to have you in my life, Sweetheart.» He circles your hips with his arm and he kisses you again. You’ll never get tired of it.

«And I’m the luckiest woman on earth. Sweetheart.» You mock him, but he just stays there, watching you like he just saw you hanging up the moon. Maybe it’s a bit too much, but you are not going to complain about it. «And apparently my mother likes you now.»

«She knows I love you.» He states, and strokes your hair. You know he loves your raven hair.

«You are not scared to say it.»

«No, not with you. Not anymore.» He kisses your cheek and you are supposed to be worried about your makeup, but you danced your heart out and sang and you already made the pictures, so he can snuggle as much as he wants to.

«I’m serious when I say I’m so lucky.» You whisper.

«You are a survivor, Daisy, this is not exactly being lucky.»

«Yeah, but now I have everything I want. My shop, two girls I can teach to, my friends, you.» You explain. «You are mine now, I can’t quite put the finger on it.»

«Totally yours, also because no one else wants me.» He jokes.

«Good! Just mine!» You are completely in his arms again, and you make a coy smile, hoping to be flirtatious. «I made some alterations to the wedding dress, so you can…» You finish the phrase in his ear, and you feel the grip becoming stronger.

«You are a total minx.» He growls. Exactly the growl you wanted to have from him.

«And I’m yours. Are you happy?» You shameless flirt.

«You know what, yes. I am.»

«Good. Because I have the intent to make us extremely happy for the rest of our life.» You promise.

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