#apparently my brain slightly changed the quote over time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

keanureevesisbae · 2 years

Text

oblivious - epilogue

Summary: How are the Syverson's and cool aunt Ivy holding up?

Captain Syverson x Ivy Sullivan

Wordcount: x

Warning: None

A/N: Thank you so much for everyone who has been following this story from the beginning. I really loved your responses and to say these characters have changed my life, is an understatement. I love you 😘

Masterlist // Oblivious masterlist //

6 months later

If you would’ve told me a year ago, I’d be working with a fucking planner, I’d laughed right in your face. Ivy Sullivan had it all memorized in her head. Who needs a planner when you have my brain?

Well, I do now, because I’ve got a lot to remember these days and relying on just my fantastic brain and its memory, isn’t good enough for me anymore. I’ve got PTA meetings, cupcake bake sales and my own job.

A lot has changed. After Sy told me he was in love with me, he’s trying his hardest for the four of us and totally proving to me he indeed only needed one chance. He’s thoughtful, he’s doing his best to be kind and patient and the effort is duly noted by me and the girls.

Thankfully my back is like it used to be and I’m working in the gym again. The process was slow, but Sy was right there to help me when I thought I could do it, but in reality couldn’t. He was sweet, patient and always rewarded me with a playful insult and a kiss.

Life is pretty crazy, come to think of it. There were bumps in the roads I barely managed to pass, when already another ginormous hill was awaiting for me. And now… My life is mellow. It’s relaxed, even when I gained three young girls with it and they have been testing me, which is only natural. Thankfully, it’s nothing I cannot master. They thought they could outsmart their uncle—and most of the times, they were correct—but they have yet to outthink me and knowing what I’ve done back in the days, I can tell they are never gonna be as smooth and slick as I was, being able to get whatever I wanted.

There must be some sort of difference between us.

I lean back in the drivers seat of my purple car, thinking about what I can do now. I’m quick to make a plan, because I drive to Sy’s construction site. The girls are all in school and I haven’t really been spending time with Sy alone. Never in a million years did I think I would yearn for alone time with Sy.

The drive is quick, mostly because I apparently have awful driving skills, according to my boyfriend. I personally think he is a wimp, however he begs to differ.

I pull up in front of the site, ignoring Sy’s slightly perverted friends, though they have formally apologized a few weeks back. ‘Yo stinky dip shit,’ I yell out of my open window, causing Sy to bark out a loud laugh.

‘What?’ he yells back.

‘Get in, loser, we’re going shopping,’ I try to say with a serious expression, however I burst into laughs as well when Sy rolls his eyes at me, in utter disbelieve I am literally quoting Mean Girls, the movie Erin, Sy and me watched last weekend. ‘Come on.’

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ he says, grabbing his stuff. When he nears the car, wearing the delicious cargo pants and a red shirt combo, he places his hand on the roof of the car, leaning over to the window. ‘Why are you here?’

‘Because I like to spend some alone time with my hot and greasy boyfriend.’ I can’t stop myself but wink at him. ‘Or… Or do you want to continue working?’

‘Sweetcheeks, I don’t wanna continue working and I’d like to spend some alone time with my sweaty girlfriend.’

I pinch his nipple, causing him to let out a deep groan. ‘I am not sweaty. Besides, you’re the last one to talk, mister wet patches underneath his armpits.’

‘It’s hot outside, darling,’ he chuckles. ‘Can’t help it.’

He walks around the car and gets in. When his weirdo friends all wave at me, I hold up my hand, slowly but surely trucing with them, because I cannot stay mad at them forever, simply because they kept gawking at me.

I lean over to the passengers seat, giving Sy a long kiss on his lips. ‘I love you,’ I whisper. ‘Your place or my place?’

‘Your place,’ he says, pecking my lips once more. ‘And I love you more.’

Despite us being always together, we do still have our separate places. Sy and his friends have rebuild mine, made it even better than it was before, but both Sy and me need to take a break from the entire situation every now and then. Three girls are wonderful, but they can also be a handful. Sometimes we need to vent, to scream and that’s better to do without them being able to hear. Besides, the girls and I have this tradition, where one of them sleeps with me at my place and we get to spend some alone time together. I personally think it’s good to not see them as ‘The three Syverson girls’ but as individuals. No matter how much they are alike, they’re still unique and need special attention.

‘Seatbelt on?’ I ask.

‘Almost, I just— Fuck, Ivy!’ he screams, as I drive off, maybe using an illegal amount of speed and leaving skid marks behind. ‘We have responsibilities!’

‘Come on, you don’t think I know that?’

In less than a few minutes, I park on my driveway and Sy and I both get out, a shit eating grin plastered on our faces. The front door closes and on our way upstairs, we both shred out of our sweaty clothes, our lips barely letting go of one another. I can’t help but squeal when he hoists me up in his arms, making his way to the bathroom. He turns on the showers and the little shit he is, places me in the shower cabinet while the streams of water are icy cold.

‘Oh, you jerk!’ I scream, slapping his chest, trying to get out of the shower, but fail miserably. No matter how much I train, how long I’m trying to gain some muscles, the battle Ivy vs Sy is one easily won by him.

The water is a little bit warmer, before he gets in the cabin with me. ‘Did you just call me a jerk?’

I snort. ‘Maybe,’ I say. ‘But you kinda are a jerk.’

‘Payback for driving like a mad woman.’

‘Do you wanna have sex with me or not?’ I retort. ‘Because, if you do, you have to admit you’re a jerk and I do not deserve payback for my excellent driving skills.’

Sy chuckles. ‘My my, woman,’ he says, ‘you really not giving me this payback?’

‘Nope.’

He nods with a smirk. ‘Good thing I love ya quite a lot then,’ he says, before pressing a gentle kiss on my lips, ‘because I really wanna have sex with you.’

‘Then say it.’

‘I’m a jerk,’ he says, ‘and you drive perfectly fine.’

‘Not quite as believable as I wanted, but I’ll take it for now.’

‘Minx.’

☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎

Sy and I are sitting on the little stairs of our porch, watching the Syverson girls play with the puppy of our neighbors. They are absolutely smitten with the little four legged buddy and I can already feel the question in the air: ‘Can we have one too?’ paired with large doe like eyes and pleading sounds from their pouty lips.

That’s gonna be very hard to say no to.

‘He is kinda cute,’ I say.

‘And a lot of work,’ Sy says to me, already knowing what I’m implying. ‘Puppies are a lot of work.’

‘I know, I know, but… Maybe we can go to the pound.’

‘The pound?’ he asks. ‘You want a dog?’

‘I kinda want to. Come on, think about it: a lovely dog who can follow around as we work, who can sleep with the girls when they are afraid.’ I smile. ‘Doesn’t that sound wonderful?’

He sighs deeply, obviously wanting to say something responsible, however he can’t seem to think of something. ‘Don’t tell the girls,’ he says, ‘but you and I can look for a little hairy dog.’

I let out a soft squeal. ‘Sy, you big softie.’

‘Ai,’ he says, placing his hand on his heart, ‘why are you calling me softie?’

‘Because you are.’ I press a kiss on his cheek. ‘I love you, big bear.’

He nods. ‘I love you too.’

‘Uncle Sy,’ Aurora asks, the first one to rush over to us. ‘Can we please have a doggy?’

He groans. ‘Really? That question again?’

‘Pretty please.’ Aurora is the first one who pouts and folds her little hands together.

I lean back on my arms, watching Erin and Clover walking over to us as well. ‘Oh, honey,’ I say to Sy, ‘don’t look at those sweet eyes, because you might actually say yes.’

Sy glares at me. ‘I’ll think about it.’

Erin’s eyes widen. ‘You think about it? That’s more than you otherwise say.’ She looks over to me and our smart girl seems to figure it out immediately, just like she always seems to figure everything out. I shake my head a little, causing her to smile, but she keeps her mouth shut. ‘Can I ask you two something?’

‘Sure thing,’ Sy says, as Aurora takes place on his thigh. They’re all getting pretty clingy to the both of us, however I love it. These girls are, despite everything that happened to them, growing up to be fine young ladies. I am so proud of them and I know their parents are looking down on them, equally proud of their girls and their kinda stupid brother Sy, who is becoming better at taking care of them by the day.

Clover plops on my lap and I press a kiss on the crown of her head.

‘Can I hang out with Teddy?’ she asks.

‘Where?’

‘At the mall,’ Erin says. ‘It’s not just me and Teddy. Melanie’s mom is picking me up and there are gonna be some other kids. We’re probably gonna check out the arcade and get some milkshakes. Afterwards, I can drive with Melanie and her mom again. I’ll be home before dinner, I promise.’

Sounds like she thought about it. ‘It’s fine with me,’ I say, knowing damn well how she and Teddy are dancing around each other. When I picked her up the other day to go to the dentist, sweet little Teddy walked her all the way to the car, giving her a hug and telling her the dentist isn’t really that scary.

The damn kid was even polite and introduced himself to me. I really like him and all of the sudden start believing in high school romance.

Sy doesn’t want to say yes, however he says: ‘Be home before dinner and give me Melanie’s mom’s number.’

‘Will do.’ She claps her hands excitingly, before she rushes over to us, pecking both our cheeks. ‘I’m gonna change. I need to look good!’

‘Sure thing,’ I chuckle, watching her disappear inside. ‘Mature of you to say yes.’

He rolls his eyes. ‘I can’t say no,’ he says, ‘because Teddy is a sweet kid. Kinda hate it.’

‘Ivy!’ I hear in a pretty impatient tone behind me and I look over my shoulder, seeing Erin standing there. ‘Why are you here?’

‘Where should I be?’

‘With me. I need your help with my outfit.’ She rolls her eyes in a likely matter as Sy just did. They look a lot alike. ‘Duh.’

I place Clover on Sy’s lap. ‘Okay, okay,’ I say, ‘drama queen.’

☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎

Oblivious taglist: @diegos-butt // @oddsnendsfanfics // @crazybutconfidentaf // @thelastsock // @angelcavill66 // @eldarwen333 // @abschaffer2 // @shewritesinthethirdperson // @thereisa8ella // @funfickgirl22 // @offtheclockcilantro // @liecastillo // @heather-c-m // @its--fandom--darling // @coldmuffinbanditshoe // @lyrarodriguez // @islacharlotte // @joaniepencil // @gearhead66 // @sofiebstar // @summersong69 // @kebabgirl67

#oblivious #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #asian ofc #henry cavill fandom #captain syverson x oc #captain syverson x asian ofc #captain syverson x ofc #captain syverson #captain syverson x ivy sullivan #ivy sullivan

90 notes · View notes

scented-morker · 3 years

Text

⇢˚⋆ ✎ life of the party

Party boy! Jay x female reader

Warning : drinking, partying, but I think that’s it

Word count : 2.05k

Overview: dating the university’s party animal means you have to attend as well, and one night you get a little too into it, ending up with your boyfriend simping for you while you’re wasted in his passenger seat 🥰

･:*:･ﾟ☆

As soon as Jisu turns onto the street you can hear the blaring music, a telltale sign that the "small get together" your boyfriend had convinced you to attend was not as small and casual as he made it sound. You probably should expect it by now, dating the class party animal comes with some not as normal girlfriend duties as say your friends who went to their boyfriends sporting games or went on study dates after school. Not that you and Jay didn't do those kinds of things, but it was a Friday night and half the towns "in crowd" had parents away on a company retreat.

Jisu pulls into the grassy area on the outside of the gate, shifting the car into park while you have her a grateful smile.

"Thank you for coming with me, I get it if you don't wanna be here since it's way bigger than I said"

"Y/n, honey I've done this before, I know your boyfriend and his friends, it'd be crazy of me to think it was going to be anything less than a circus in here. Why do you think I made you change out of that awful mom jean fit?"

You looked down at the expensive lavender dress she had let you borrow, it was a satiny texture and a little out of your comfort zone, but it hugged your figure well and all fear about being overdressed was now scratched as you saw the magnitude of the party.

You sent her a sheepish smile, glad to have a friend with brain cells when it came to parties at least, she copied your homework every morning before class

You step out of the car, thanking past you for choosing the white go-go boots on your feet instead of strappy heels at the sound of your friend squealing as her heels sink into the wet grass. It makes you both walk faster, and before you know it you're walking through the door, instantly being sucked into the giant crowd of bodies. Jisu takes your hand before you can get separated, leading you to the kitchen.

"You," she mixes random bottles set out on the counter into two red solo cups, taking one herself and then shoving the other into your hand, "are going to have so much fun tonight"

You raise your eyebrow at her but take a sip anyway, confused when it doesn't taste disgusting.

"Can you make more of these?" You excitedly ask, knowing this is a much better alternative to the gross keg everyone else was drinking out of.

"Yeah, if you finish it and still want another one I can, but honestly with the amount of stuff in there and your ahem, lightweight tendencies, you might be gone before you finish that"

You give her a playful glare but listen anyway, taking smaller sips as not to chug it all and ruin your brain for the rest of the night.

She heads out to find her other friend Yuna, who she heard was here thanks to the drunk freshman babbling about her smile, and you head out to look for your boyfriend.

You make your journey into the crowd of dancing bodies, stopping to dance with some of the acquaintances you've made at school. Eventually the music changes and you continue your journey, spotting Jay over by the wall, popping a sucker in his mouth as he heads over to where his friend Heeseung is standing.

A surge of excitement goes through you when you see him, the same emotion you get every time you're reminded that he's yours, intensified by the atmosphere of the party and whatever was in your now nearly empty cup. His black hair shone under the party lights and the smirk he wore gave you an adrenaline rush.

'That's mine' you thought smugly as you walked past some girls that were staring at him, giving them an obvious side eye to let them know you had seen them checking out your boyfriend. They averted their looks as you continued your confident stride up to Jay.

"Babe!"

He spotted you coming up to him and his entire demeanor changed, the smirk now a full on smile and he practically ran towards you. Apparently he was just as excited to see you as you were him.

"You made it!!"

"To your little get together" you put sarcastic air quotes around your words while giving a laugh, "yeah I did"

"I'm sorry babe, I should have known it would get this wild" he really should have, but you let it slide because he looks genuine with his apology.

He finally let's go of the hug, sliding his right arm around your waist and looking down at you, seeming to just notice your outfit.

"Wow, you look, wow"

You let out a giggle, pulling the collar of the white shirt he wears under his black tee, and he lets you bring his face down to yours as you connect your lips in a kiss.

You're still giggling when you pull away.

"Thank you"

He laughs at you, grabbing the cup from your hands and checking the level of liquid.

"Yeah how much of this have you had babe," he asks, although the look on his face tells you he already knows.

"Just that one!!"

He gives you the cup back, ruffling your hair and muttering something about "lightweight" before sliding his arm back around you, pulling you with him as he goes back to his group of friends.

You stand with him as he talks to Jake, something about dancing you think, you weren’t really paying attention. Your focus was on his chest, where your hand was fiddling with the long chain hanging off of his neck. You don’t know why you were so transfixed with it, and at this point you were so far gone you didn’t have the brain power to think about it.

You took another sip from your cup, finding it empty and pouting down at the plastic. You tugged on Jay’s chain lightly to get his attention, lifting your cup up to let him know where you were going. He nodded his head once in understanding and turned back to his friends.

You once again had to cross the slew of sweaty, dancing bodies to get to the kitchen, and you once again stopped to dance, partially forgetting what you were even doing in the first place.

Maybe you didn’t need another drink after all. Another drink! That’s what you were doing!

You smile to yourself, eyes turning into round circles as you got back to your original plan.

You’re too lazy to try and make your own drink or find Jisu to make you one, so you just grab a bottle, pouring until your cup is halfway full and then heading back out to Jay.

When you get there he’s laughing at something Sunghoon said, and you get back into your spot on his side, hands finding their way back to his chain.

“Welcome back babe”

You find yourself giggling at the affectionate nickname, leaning into his chest.

“Okay, you” he’s chuckling slightly to himself while he speaks, a raspy sort of laugh that makes your stomach do flip flops, “have had enough of this”

He takes a sip of your cup, almost coughing up a long immediately after before looking at you like you’re insane.

“This is straight vodka”

His friends break out into laughter and you join in with them, enjoying Jays unfortunate action.

“Oops”

He smiles at you before setting your drink down, and quick as lightning he’s picking you up, spinning you around while teasing you for trying to ‘drink like a big kid’, your endless laughter right in his ear the entire time.

When he finally stops you explain yourself, “I was just too lazy to mix anything and beer is gross”

The group laughs again, and then Jay starts telling them goodnight, doing the weird bro hug thing they did after every party and saying he’s going to ‘take this one home before she starts dancing on tables’ which honestly, now that you think of it does sound pretty fun.

You wave goodbye as your boyfriend leads you out, shooting a text to Jisu that you’re leaving with Jay and won’t need a ride home so she doesn’t freak out when she can’t find you.

He’s parked a few feet away from the driveway, surprisingly not blocked in by other vehicles.

He goes to the passenger side ahead of you, opening the door, presumably to let you in, but you take a slight detour.

“Dancing on tables sounds fun, but you made us leave”

He stares at you while you climb up on the hood of his car, slightly shaking his head and letting out a laugh when you start doing the Macarena on his hood.

“Wait wait!! C’mere”

You call him over, and he immediately comes, the passenger side door still wide open as he leaves it to come see you.

“This is gonna be so cool, I’m finally taller than you”

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, but the loving smile is still there.

“C’mere”

You notion him closer, and he obliges, eyebrows shooting up in surprise when you attack him with a flurry of kisses all over his face, laughing before eventually joining together at the lips.

He meant it to be a short peck, but when he goes to pull away you don’t let him, holding on tighter to his collar and chasing his lips.

By now you’ve sat down on the hood, abandoning your standing position as you slide further down the car to be closer to him, and his hands rest on your waist before he’s finally able to pull away, although the pout on your face let’s him no you aren’t happy about it.

“What has gotten into you tonight” he laughs, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear while you grip onto his biceps.

“I don’t knowwww!!!” You whine, leaning back on the car, “you just look really good tonight. Did you know that? Like as soon as I saw you I just died, and I really want to mess up your hair”

His cheeks stay the same shade of peach that they previously were, although the tips of his ears light up and he smiles down at the floor.

“I mean you can still mess up my hair, but I’m not making out with you in my friends driveway while you’re wasted”

You give him a frown, wanting to deny his accusations but realizing that’s exactly what you wanted to do.

“Fine” you huff out, sliding off of the car and letting him lead you around to the still open door.

He walks around to the other side, sliding in the drivers seat and starting the music, Tattoos Together by Luav floating out of the speakers as he pulls out of the drive.

“I don’t want to leave you yet, can we not go home”

He looks over at you for a little second eyes on the road kids before giving a little nod.

“How about we go get some coffee, sober you up a little, and then we can go to my house and you can show me the star shapes you like”

You excitedly agree, giving a little “yay” as he turns toward the 24 hour coffee place, although your brain can’t let his small transgression slide, and you launch into a speech about “they’re actually called constellations Jay. C-o-n-s- tellstions, idk I can’t spell, but they aren’t star shapes”

He smiles at your rant, purposefully having said it to get you to correct him, laughing while you give a very dumbed down and partially incorrect explanation of how stars are formed.

He wasn’t sure why you curled up in a ball in his passenger seat drunk babbling about astronomy at 2am made him realize it, but he was oh so in love with you, and there was no going back from the blooming in his heart when you laughed at yourself for saying something completely wrong, your hand latching around his and shaking it in your amusement.

Yeah, Jay was in deep.

#I wrote this on a whim #drunk dazed got me thinkin and party boy jay just was too good to pass up #especially the scene with the sucker and he JUST LOOKS SO GOOD #so uh enjoy ig #enhypen #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen jay scenarios #enhypen jay #enhypen jay x reader

185 notes · View notes

kaijusplotch · 3 years

Text

Hunter is Not Ready for Omega to go Through Puberty

Debating on if i should publish this to AO3 or not? Either way, have Hunter having small crisises of the heart when Omega reaches puberty. Everyone discovering something about Crosshair. And generally the Bad Batch having DAD feels.

Hunter was worried. Omega had been miserable with stomach pain since early that morning; practically living in the fresher. He looked through every medical pack they had but Tech had said they were portioned out for adult clones and their strength could hurt more than help.

So, Hunter got hot packs ready and dimmed the lights of the bunk room. It hurt him just as much to know that he couldn’t help her more than just to be there for her until they could get some more appropriate medicine.

“Hunter…?”

He looked up from where he was trying to look up how to treat stomach pain and his heart dropped. “Omega? what’s wrong?”

“I’m bleeding...down there.” Omega’s face was beet red and there were tears in her eyes as she stood awkwardly near the door of the fresher.

Hunter’s mind went to static. What did that mean? Was she hurt? Had she gotten hurt and he didn’t notice? His heart started to race and he got up and walked over to her.

Omega had gotten taller, her clothes from Kamino no longer fitting properly. Tech’s spare blacks were at least somewhat useful but still too big in some places even being the shortest of the Batch. She was growing fast, like all clones, but differently too. Her hips were wider for sure, but it could just be because of the mutations.

“Are you hurt? I...I don’t understand,” Hunter said, hands on her shoulders as he tried to hide his fear from his voice and face.

“Um…” She whimpered and looked away biting her lip. “I ah...I’m not hurt, my stomach hurts but I’m bleeding. Not a lot, but I don’t know either.”

“What’s going on?” Crosshair asked, walking in with Tech behind.

Omega blushed and looked away, fidgeting with the oversized top of her blacks. “m’bleeding….”

“She says she isn’t hurt, but the stomach pains are still there.” Hunter explained turning to Tech.

“She is nearing seven, she’d be going through one of her first large growth spurts. Perhaps a hormonal issue?” Tech asked, grabbing his datapad.

Hunter nodded, looking up as Crosshair patted his shoulder.

“I’ll take care of this,” Crosshair said with a slight twitch to the corner of his mouth; his version of a smile. “C’mon kid, let’s go to the fresher.”

“Ah! Found something, Sargeant,” Tech interrupted, dragging Hunter’s attention back.

“What is it? What can we do?”

“She’s going through puberty, as expected. Except...it’s different for females…” Tech looked a little pale as he read his datapad. “They have...ah...oh. Menstrual cycles begin during this time which can cause them to shed the lining of their internal reproductive organs.”

Hunter’s eyes went wide. “What? Is it dangerous?!” Hunter grabbed at the pad, although Tech snatched it back.

“No, at least it shouldn’t be. It happens monthly, along with mood changes, stomach cramps and some skin issues. Well at least that’s the same as it was for us,” Tech muttered. “She will need supplies but…I’m not sure how best to handle this, Hunter.”

Hunter rubbed his face and swallowed. “I’ll try to contact Rex. Ashoka was a teenager with him during the war, he’s got to have some kind of advice.” The door to the fresher opened and Hunter turned around, watching as Crosshair had Omega tucked up into his side. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I’m going to take her into town.” Crosshair tossed Omega a poncho and put on a jacket and hat for himself.

“Are you sure? We haven’t completely figured out what-”

“I’ll handle it, Tech,” Crosshair hissed with a significant look. “We’ll be back in a bit.”

Hunter furrowed his brows, but Omega was leaning into Crosshair with a smile. It would be good to let Crosshair have some time with Omega and vice-versa. “Be careful. Have your comms open.” he advised.

“Yes DAD,” Omega sighed, rolling her eyes with a smile as Crosshair chuckled softly.

The door closed behind them and Hunter groaned. “I think my heart stopped.” He leaned against the wall.

“Your fine. Just like every other time she’s called you a variation of ‘father’.” Tech pushed his goggles back up on his nose. “I’ll see about trying to find a secure line to Rex.”

“See if we have any contacts to Cut too. Maybe Suu can help explain things?” Hunter suggested looking at Tech, lost and worried. His mind was still racing on how to help look after his ad. No he was not ever admitting that to any of his brothers that he subconsciously called Omega his ad.

“I’ll get right on it. I’m sure she’ll be fine,” he reassured as he walked back toward the cockpit.

Hunter spent the entire time waiting for Crosshair and Omega to return trying to get in contact with Rex or Cody. He chewed his lip as he was met again with nothing on the comms.

Echo walked in and sighed. “I’ve been trying to hunt down Cut and Suu but I can’t get any trace on the shuttle they took. Sorry, Hunter.”

“No, no it’s not your fault.” Hunter frowned and leaned back in his chair. “I should have asked them more before we left.” He scrubbed uselessly at his face and snarled. “I’m supposed to look out for her and I don’t know how to help her!”

“Hey, none of that.” Echo’s voice was firm and Hunter was a little surprised. His newest brother was rather quiet but apparently when he had something to say he would say it. “You’re doing everything you can. We all are. Omega will be okay, plenty of girls go through the same thing. We’ll adapt.”

Hunter smiled a bit. “Just like Saw said. It’s what we do best. Still want to help her feel better.” He glanced at Echo who smiled in return.

“You sound a lot like an ori’vod.” He gave a small shrug, flexing his prosthetic wrist slightly. “Just need to find out what she needs. For now, we can be there for her. She’s family.”

“Yeah, apparently Crosshair had an idea so hopefully he is able to help.” Hunter stood from his chair and stretched slowly. “How’s the upgrades Tech made?”

“Great, actually. Nice to have two hands again. Means I can give Tech a run for his money at Sabacc night.”

“Good luck with that,” Hunter laughed.

“Hey, if I can win against Cross with one hand, I think I stand a chance with two.” Echo grinned. “Maybe we’ll teach Omega next time,” he said just as the ship door opened.

“Teach me what?”

Hunter smiled in relief as he saw Omega walk in, looking a little better and holding a bag on her shoulder. “How to play Sabacc. I don’t think Tech would go easy on you, so maybe I’ll let you watch my hand next time we play. How’re you feeling?”

“Better. Cross got me some stuff.” Omega smiled, not looking as pale as before.

“I didn’t forget you guys either,” Crosshair added as he tossed a bag of items at Echo. “C’mon, kid. Let’s put this away in the fresher for ya.”

Hunter watched as Crosshair led Omega back into the bunks and relaxed. “What’d he get?” He turned to Echo.

“Food, mostly,” Echo laughed. “And other supplies. Oh, caff, keep this away from Tech. New whet stone, always useful since Wrecker loses his.”

“I do not!” Wrecker said, coming up from below deck. “Omega back? Is she feeling better?”

“Seems to be, Cross took care of it, somehow.” Hunter shrugged.

“She’s going to lay down for a bit,” Crosshair added, closing the door to the bunks behind him. “The cramps are better but she’s worn out. Try to be quiet if you need to go in.”

“How did you know how to help her, Crosshair? Tech is going in circles about what kind of information is anecdotal and what is actually medically necessary.” Echo sighed in exasperation. “It’s giving me a headache second hand.”

“I went through the same thing when I was her age.”

Hunter stared at Crosshair as the information slowly processed in his brain. “What?!”

“Quiet! don’t wake her up,” Crosshair hissed back before deflating. “If we’re going to have this discussion, let’s do it away from where the poor kid is sleeping.” He rolled his eyes and skulked off toward the small kitchen and eating area.

Hunter walked in and sat down across from Crosshair, watching as he kicked his feet up on the table chewing on a toothpick. “So what did you mean you went through the same thing? I don’t remember anything like that.”

Crosshair sighed and waited for everyone to sit before replying. “You don’t remember it because it was in the middle of the night in our eighth year.”

“That could be...what happened though? I mean...you-”

“Look like any other male clone,” Crosshair interrupted Tech. “I know. But I’m not. I had bad cramps and woke up in the middle of the night. Bled all over my bunk and was scared shitless. I ran off to the freshers with everything and tried to wash it.” Crosshair frowned. “Skirata must have heard me and found me.”

“What happened?” Hunter tensed, ready to get a plan to hunt down the trainer from Kamino.

“He helped me.” Crosshair shrugged. “Helped me get cleaned up, took the bedding to get washed and got some supplies from another trainer for me.”

“I remember that night!” Wrecker said. “I woke up and was wondering where you were,” he added with a frown. “I was worried.”

Crosshair laughed softly. “I was fine. Ended up with Skirata helping me out with medical and the Long-necks removed the ‘unneeded’ mutation.” Crosshair gave a sarcastic air quote.

“So...you’re female?” Echo asked before blushing. “I don’t mean to insult you or anything,” he added quickly.

“Genetically yes, I think the medics said that I've got an extra X. so XXY? I don’t know. Doesn’t mean anything to me now.” Crosshair pulled his feet down. “Doesn’t affect my work so I don’t care.”

“What can we do to help her then?” Hunter asked, leaning against the table as he took everything in. Crosshair’s genetic identity didn’t mean anything would change. He was still Crosshair’s ori’vod nothing would change that.

“First thing’s first, don’t make it a big deal; for EITHER of us.” Crosshair stared down Wrecker and Tech the most. “Second, she’s going to have cramps and mood swings so don’t take it personal. Third, the choco in the ship is GOING to disappear, don’t fight her on it.”

“Doesn’t sound too different from a standard cadet’s first growth spurt,” Tech commented as he made notes. “We can start to get more supplies for her, new clothes so she feels comfortable.”

“Yeah, she doesn’t look too comfortable in yer blacks,” Wrecker snickered. “Maybe we should think about getting her armor too! She’s already been doing great with her electro-bow.”

Hunter sighed and leaned back, biting back a groan and the ache in his chest of Omega growing up too quickly. “She...she isn’t ready for armor.”

“She’s the right age to start, Hunter. We all started with training armor at seven,” Echo advised, leaning up against the door frame. “We could do the mandalorian thing, have her started with a pauldron, and chest piece.”

“I really don’t want to think about that. She’s too young to be putting on armor and...and fighting.” Hunter stared at the ceiling, brows furrowed as he tried to control himself. “I don’t want her fighting. She’s just a kid and...and she deserves something other than the same shit we grew up with.”

“Careful, Hunter,” Crosshair flicked his toothpick at him. “Your buir is showing.”

“Shut up!” Hunter snapped and glared, hackles raised; although he really didn’t know why. Maybe because he was afraid Crosshair would accuse him of going soft again. Although that wasn’t exactly Crosshair before.

“Honestly, We’re all showing our buir tendencies.” Echo said with a small smile. “I understand why you don’t want to have her go through the same things we did, Hunter; but she won’t. We’ll train her. We know what not to do from our own experiences. She’ll be fine.”

Hunter frowned and leaned forward again. “I’ll think about it. For now, let’s just try to make her comfortable. Growth spurts are never fun.”

#The Bad Batch #Omega The Bad Batch #Crosshair The Bad Batch #Hunter the Bad Batch #Tech The Bad Batch #Echo The Bad Batch #Intersexed Crosshair #Wrecker The Bad Batch #Omega going through puberty #Periods #menstration #Menstral pain #Star Wars The Clone Wars #Star Wars The Bad Batch #Star Wars Fanfiction

78 notes · View notes

jamespotterthefirst · 4 years

Text

Most Ardently (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 1,200 Warning: Adult language Premise: Days after her recovery, he tells her of the Pride and Prejudice vibe they apparently give off. Set after the events of Book 2, Chapter 11.

Quote: “In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

The bright beams of moonlight spilling through his window were enough to stir him awake. The first thing he thought of was how he had forgotten to close the curtains shut, as was his custom every night before bed. A slight rustling next to him, however, followed by a sleepy hum reminded him he had been far too busy to remember the damn curtains.

When she settled further into his side, Ethan smiled, watching her sleeping form, carefully taking in every detail with something akin to urgency. Inexplicably, his chest constricted as he took in the faint dusting of freckles at her nose, the dark fan of lashes splayed in a half moon, her rosy, parted lips that puckered slightly with her breathing. It was almost as if every part of him knew he had been so close to losing her.

Almost two weeks had elapsed since the attack and the icy terror of losing her still gripped him like an iron fist. His arm flexed on instinct around her as he fought back the remnants of dread, choosing instead to pull her warm body closer to his as irrefutable proof that she was there, right by his side.

Mere seconds after, Lilac stirred, opening her eyes briefly only to squint at the moonlight.

“Hey,” she murmured sleepily.

“Hey,” he returned softly. “Go back to sleep.”

“What time is it?”

“It's almost one.”

“Shit. I fell asleep.”

With a jolt, she pushed away from him, frantically patting the nightstand for her phone. Ethan sat up with a frown, already missing the warmth of her body.

“Where are you going?”

Lilac clutched the covers to her front, all traces of sleep gone as she winked at him from over her shoulder. “I've finally had my way with you, Dr. Ramsey. Now for my escape.”

The playful smile she gave him made his heart leap with elation. Laughing, Ethan reached over and pulled her on top of him with ease. Lilac half shrieked and half laughed, her hips settling comfortably over his, her hands flat against his chest to steady herself. The messy tendrils of her dark hair brushed against his skin, leaving his every sense at her disposal.

“Now that you have me, you might not be able to get rid of me that easily,” he explained in a serious whisper, their lips almost touching.

“Good.”

Ethan kissed her, exhilarated by the fact that he didn't have to hold back anymore. Her lips curved into a smile against his, perhaps knowing this too. They pulled away for breath several times, their lips meeting with renewed fervor right after, until they were both practically too dizzy to continue. They caught their breath in silence, basking in a haze of unbridled happiness.

“I should go home,” she said at last. “We have work in the morning and I don't have a change of clothes.”

“Sienna brought you an overnight bag. It's in the car.”

At that, Lilac pushed herself far back enough to give him a stunned look. “She– what?” She blinked several times. “How would she– She doesn't even know–”

“She knows.”

This only made Lilac blink in quicker succession, mouth open as her brain struggled to verbalize all her questions. It was entirely too endearing and Ethan couldn't resist leaning in to kiss the tip of her nose.

“I told her,” he explained. “Though that was unnecessary. You forget she caught me sneaking out of your apartment all those months ago?”

Lilac's shock slowly melted as she realized this. Soon, her expression relaxed into a grin that gave way to unrestrained laughter. When she couldn't stop, Ethan joined in, shaking his head.

“I forgot she saw that,” she said when she finally sobered up. “For being two highly intelligent doctors, we can be so stupid sometimes.”

Ethan shrugged.

“Even if she hadn't seen me leaving that morning, she would have suspected. According to her, we give off a vibe.”

“A vibe? What kind of vibe?”

“A Pride and Prejudice vibe.”

At that, her face lit up in a way that made his stomach swoop.

“I knew you would enjoy that.”

“You absolutely put out Mr. Darcy vibes,” she said, barely restrained joy seeping from every word.

“Here we go.”

“Aside from being rich, handsome, and short-tempered—”

“Short-tempered?”

“—you are also masterfully good at the longing glances and discreet hand touching.”

“Hand touching? I don't recall—”

The lie was swiftly interrupted by her impressive recollection. One by one she listed all the stolen glances from across hospital halls and the way his fingers always seemed to find hers. Impressed, he only grinned at her, content in the knowledge that she remembered every instance as vividly as he did.

Lilac, on the other hand, was too busy circling back to teasing him about Sienna's reference. She cleared her throat, lowered her voice to a supposed imitation of Ethan, and quoted in an impressive English accent: “I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offenses against myself.”

Ethan rolled his eyes good-naturedly. Despite being the subject of her playful taunts, he was ecstatic to hear her melodic laughter again.

“My good opinion once lost, is lost forever,” he quoted, earning him an impressed, arched brow from her.

It should have been embarrassing that even that small gesture was enough to tempt him because he was kissing her again. This time, when they pulled away, she bit her lip, a poor attempt to fight back a broad, radiant smile.

For his own part, Ethan allowed himself to smile as he looked at her, his fingers gently brushing a wayward lock of hair away from her face. Her eyes fluttered closed against his caress, making her nothing less than ethereal in the pale moonlight. The lovely sigh that followed inspired his very blood to buzz alive with warmth, like the spell of a quiet summer evening.

Unbidden, another quote echoed in his mind, one that was far more fitting to the way his heart pounded fiercely against the confines of his chest— for her. Always for her.

“In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

They were words he used to scoff at.

But now…

He remained perfectly still as their truth dawned on him, casting color and warmth into his every thought.

Lilac was watching him curiously. “What?”

His response was a gentle kiss that should have lasted forever. When he pulled away, he did so to kiss her jaw. “You make me so happy.”

Eyes bright, Lilac searched his face with such reverence that Ethan held his breath. Her delicate hand slid from his neck to his chest, right above where his heart thrummed vividly, proving his words true with each beat. Whatever she was looking for, she found because she leaned in and kissed him yet again.

“Completely and perfectly and incandescently happy?”

“I know you're back to teasing me about the Austen reference but yes. Completely and perfectly and incandescently happy.”

___________________

Author’s Note:

Me @ me:

Sorry. That reference killed me so I had to do this. I felt it in my soul.

Thank you for reading this! And thank you for all the support you showed “Everything I Wanted” despite all the issues I had posting that one.

Love you guys!

-Bree

_______

Tags

@lion-ess24 | @emotionalswift2 | @the-soot-sprite |

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey fanfiction #playchoices #my writing

384 notes · View notes

skellebonez · 3 years

Text

Happy Birthday Kit!!!

It’s your birthday @kitkat1003 heck yeah! And for your birthday Spirit is going to have a good day because I and many other people love them a lot! I hope you like this fic as much as I loved writing it!

It was possibly the oddest favor Spirit had done for anyone, ever. But, if they were being at least a tiny bit honest with themselves, it sounded like it could have been one of the more enjoyable ones. Well… technically Pigsy said it was “not a favor I’m just asking you to do this”. So. Potato potahtoe.

Specifically he asked if Spirit would “spend the day with him.” That was it. Simple, easy, long to be sure but not as long as many of the other favors that required a fetch quest at the very least. That was the original bare bones request, vague as it was. Just spend the entire with with Pigsy, 9 AM to 9 PM, and they would be right as rain.

And it wasn’t even like that would be hard! They already had work scheduled for the day, helping Pigsy open the shop and working the register. Why, they could even finish up the task while at work, two bird one stone and all that!

At least, that was what Spirit thought. Before Pigsy met them at the shop entrance and announced in a tired voice after chugging some very very clearly fresh and not sweetened coffee-

“Store’s closed for the day. We’re going shopping.”

Store closed.

For the day.

And going shopping.

Going.

Shopping.

Spirit pushed down their immediate shudder of “oh, that’s not what we had planned today and now today is different oh no I was not prepared for this oh dear oh jeepers” that ran up their spine.

“Uh- o-ok… where are we headed?”

“Food market, mostly,” Pigsy said with a shrug as he adjusted a few reusable baskets in his hands. He must have had a lot on the list for the day or he was buying a lot in advance. “Thinkin of hitting up another place or two in the area if we got time, but nothing too strenuous.”

A bit of Spirit’s tension eased from their shoulders and spine at this. They’d been to the market plenty of times before, so even though it was out of the blue it wasn’t exactly that unusual for them. The last time they went had been with Pigsy and Tang, and while their fighting over which carrots looked “good enough” wasn’t the most… fun conversation to be present for, it was nice.

Pigsy had even bought them a snack, insisting there were no strings attached. No favors. Just a snack from a friend to a friend. And that memory was nice… nice enough to help elevate any extra anxiety still lingering in the demon’s spine (that came from the news anyway, the regular anxiety was as there as always).

“Well, best to head as quickly as possible?” They offered, following Pigsy as he lead the way. “Want to get there fast to get the pick of the best vegetables, right?”

“You’re speakin my language!”

The market was surprisingly calm and quiet. Maybe it was because it wasn’t one of the usual busy days, or maybe it was because of how early they were in the day, but instead of the loud bustle and clutter and yells of vendors there was just a set of clearly dedicated loyal customers and relaxed vendors making small talk.

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Pigsy said suddenly as they made their way down to where he would usually buy root vegetables. “They do this sort of thing a couple times a month where the market isn’t open to the public for a couple hours. It’s a little somethin to help out the local restaurants and other businesses who come here for their supplies.”

“Is that why that guy at the entrance looked at me like I was about to steal a child’s lunch money?”

That hadn’t been fun at all. Until Pigsy had stepped up beside him Spirit thought they were genuinely in some sort of trouble they didn’t know about.

Then again. That happened a lot. Thinking they were in trouble they didn’t know about. Pigsy was trying to make sure that didn’t happen as much. “If I could tell their brain to stop it wouldn’t happen at all” was what he said when Spirit overheard him talking to Tang about them.

It wasn’t good to snoop, Spirit knew that, but… it was. Nice. Oddly nice. He wasn’t going to be able to just tell Spirit’s brain to stop telling them things, and before Spirit would be confused and maybe a little horrified at the idea, but after spending so much time with the pig demon it felt. Nice.

Their conversation continued on for a moment, Pigsy explaining what the market on these special days was like and how the deals here were so helpful and every stall they stopped at Pigsy made it a point to keep the conversation going with the vendor himself. Just open enough for Spirit to insert themselves if they wanted, though they didn’t except at the vendor selling oddly colored flowers (which led into a short explanation about how they were made) and an explanation of how many of the dried ones on sale were imported from other countries and difficult to find outside their stall.

They didn’t know why Pigsy was buying flowers, though. At least, not the specific reason. Dried, fresh, some with stems and some with only the heads. Some bulbs as well. Maybe he was going to try some more floral broths or flower infused noodles? He’d done that in the past apparently! And Spirit had watched him made odder things, experimental dishes that didn’t really change much with the old recipes so much as they simply added more depth to them.

Spirit did notice, however, most of the flowers he had purchased were… purple. Or, in the case of one, blue. An odd one out to be sure.

“Alright, we’re done!” Pigsy announced, smiling widely at his haul. Which, all things considered… wasn’t actually as much as Spirit expected. Still, a good haul. “We’re going to put this all away at the shop, I have an appointment with Sandy later but we’re not expected at any specific time so there isn’t really a need to rush.”

“AH, hold on just one moment!” The flower stall vendor said as he came out from behind his stall. “Pigsy, I want you both to have these. For being a wonderful return customer and for the nice conversation.”

Spirit watched as he tucked a purple flower behind Pigsy’s ear, a daisy if Spirit was correct. And then he did the same to them, making them tense in surprise. If they said anything after that Spirit didn’t realize due to their shock, but the next thing they registered was Pigsy gently guiding them out of the entrance.

Sandy was more than ready for them when they arrived, urging Spirit inside and to his couch while Pigsy and he talked about… something.

Spirit wasn’t paying as much attention as they normally would when they were immediately swarmed with cats.

Cats on their lap, cats on their arms, cats on their shoulders. Cats. Cats everywhere. So many cats.

“Uh… S-Sandy…” Spirit started, an uncertain chuckle bubbling up as another cat plopped down on their head. “Do your cats… smell fear? Or do I smell delicious? They’re vibrating very violently. And… rubbing against me. A lot. I mean, I know they’re purring but this is weird.”

Sandy turned toward Spirit, covering his mouth to keep himself from laughing at the sight.

“No, no they don’t and you do not,” he said with a shake of his head, and he gave a look toward Pigsy. “You probably got some catnip on you somehow at the market. You’re just their favorite person right now.”

“… oh,” Spirit breathed out, reaching up to pat one of the cats on his lap carefully. The cat let out a trill, rolling onto their back as they pressed harder into Spirit’s side. Spirit couldn’t help it. They gave in to the temptation to quote a video Mei showed him long ago. “… I have been chosen.”

They didn’t even pay attention to Sandy and Pigsy until something on a trey was placed on the table between all of them, the clinking jolting some of the cats and making them roll off Spirit (who was grateful for the use of their arms back).

“So… I was hoping you might want to taste test something I wanted to add to the menu for special occasions that Sandy is teaching me to make,” Pigsy said with a smile, gesturing to the trey. “He actually made these in advance, they take a long while to dry properly, but they’re supposed to be worth it. But I, uh, can’t guarantee anything.”

It was very… purple and blue. A clear cup filled with what Spirit assumed was blue tea and a purple… stick of some kind that seemed to be flowers dipped in sugar? The only thing that seemed to stand out was the tiny cup of what smelled like lemon juice between them.

“The stick is candied lavender!” Sandy explained, gesturing to the hardened blossom. “You can use it to stir the tea and add sweetness or just eat it as is! But before you choose, pour that little cup into the tea.”

Spirit raised an eyebrow, almost wondering if this was some kind of prank. It didn’t feel like Pigsy and Sandy would pull a prank like this but. Well. Who knows… but they wanted to trust that they weren’t so they did as asked, slowly pouring the lemon juice into… the…

“It’s turning purple,” Spirit whisper shouted, eyes wide and awed as the blue tea slowly turned from the brilliant blue to a more brilliant purple from the bottom of the cup up. “What. Purple? It’s purple! The tea changes colors!”

Pigsy chuckled, nodding his head with a wide smile. “Yup.”

“It’s called Butterfly Pea Flower tea,’ Sandy explained, smile just as wide. "Lemon and lime juice made it do that! It’s not really a rare tea, but we added some extra stuff to the lavender that should make it taste even better when you mix it all in. Go on, give it a try!”

Spirit looked between the two of them and picked up the lavender stick and tea cup, mixing them together as they sat back and took a sip.

It was… amazing. Earthy and slightly bitter from the lemon juice. There must have been honey as well as sugar in the lavender stick, bringing a bright sweetness to the drink. There was a bit of spice to it, maybe cinnamon, as well. It was nothing like anything Spirit had ever drank before. It was warm without being too hot, and combined with the purring of the cats surrounding them…

They realized they felt. Good. Not perfect, not completely relaxed. They didn’t know if that was possible. But they felt good. Happy.

“I think… I think people will love this.”

#fun fact: purple daisies can mean thoughtfulness #monkie kid #lego monkie kid #fanfic #gift #oc: yin spirit #pigsy #sandy

41 notes · View notes

downondilaudid · 4 years

Text

Best Distraction

Spencer gets too caught up in his work, and reader has the perfect plan to get his attention.

Requested: yes

Prompts: Are you sure it’s just the outfit you like? & You’re distracting me.

Word count: 2.6K Sorry she’s short, I’ve had zero motivation, everyday I wake up my brain says “we sad today, don’t leave bed, don’t eat. Teehee.”

Warnings: SMUT SMUT

I couldn’t find a quote, so, your elbows are the knees of your arms.

It was a horribly hot Sunday in Virginia, your morning consisted of making lemonade and sweating. You had changed clothes about three times as the temperature increased, now leaving you in a little sweetheart sundress. It was fairly new, and you weren’t sure when you were going to be able to wear it, but apparently, today was the day.

Spencer had been hunched over his desk all day, his button-down long discarded, and his bare chest on display. His shaggy hair framed his face perfectly, falling to the top of his ears. The way his lips parted and his tongue darted out while he was deep in thought was mesmerizing. Images of his head between your thighs crept into your mind. He looked so beautiful sitting there in the sunlight.

Your arms wrapped loosely around him from behind the chair. Despite the killer heat, his warm skin against yours was still as soothing as ever. “Hey, baby” you murmured, your lips pressed against his shoulder blade, peppering kisses up the back of his neck.

“Hmm?” Spencer hummed lightly, his big beautiful brain still engrossed in his work.

“Just saying hi” you laughed, that was a lie, you weren’t just saying hi, you had a plan, and it was going to work.

You moved to the side of the chair as you spoke, one of your hands grabbing the back of the chair to steady yourself, you swung your leg over Spencer’s lap. You plopped yourself backward on his lap, laying your head against his chest.

“I’m trying to work, sweetheart,” Spencer muttered, his arms entrapped you on his lap, as he picked up his pen and continued writing something down.

“I miss you.” Your hands ran up his bare chest, stopping at his shoulder to massage his tense muscles.

Spencer hummed, pulling back for a moment to look down at you, his brows furrowed. One of his hands grabbed the strap of your sundress pulling at it as he spoke “is this new?”

You nodded your head, a smile on your face, and right as you were about to steal a kiss he leaned forward again, going back to his work.

“It looks good,” Spencer commented, his mind once again focused on his work.

Your teeth dug into your lip to hold in an angry sigh, you were trying your hardest to not act like a brat, “are you sure it’s just the outfit you like?” You questioned with a giggle.

Spencer let out a laugh but didn’t respond, causing a small pout to form on your face. Guess you’d have to up the ante. Your hands left his shoulder, taking hold of the back of the chair, you pushed your hips forward, grinding into him lightly. You started off slow, you wanted Spencer to believe he was imagining it before you picked up the pace, and it was clear you were grinding into him.

“W-what’re you doing?” he stuttered, his hand dropping the pencil to push back on your hip as an attempt to restrain your movement.

A short moan left your lips, and you could feel Spencer’s breath hitch in his chest, “nothing.” You giggled, a sly smile tugging at your lips.

Spencer let out a breathy moan, his eyes fluttering shut, “you’re distracting me.”

“That’s a shame.” Your head fell back as your hips worked faster, begging for more friction.

“Fuck” Spencer groaned out, his voice low and clouded with lust. Right then and there you knew you had broken his resolve.

But right when you were sure he was going to bend you over his desk and pound into you, a shrill ringing filled the room. You groaned loudly, this time not from the pleasure, and your hips seized their movement. “Please don’t answer it.”

Spencer gave you a sympathetic smile, tapping on your hip lightly, “I have to. Up.”

You rolled your eyes, throwing your leg over the side of his lap, standing up quickly.

He grabbed his phone, pressing it up to his ear, “hey, Morgan.”

A large grin broke out on your face, and a sinister idea popped into your head. It was like a lightbulb went off in your head. You walked between Spencer and the desk, ignoring the confused look on his face.

Your hands ran up and down his bare chest, dragging your nails lightly. “I-I’m sure she’d like whatever you get her.” Spencer stuttered into the phone. You assumed Derek was trying to figure out what to get Savannah for her upcoming birthday.

This was going to be fun, you trailed your nails back up Spencer’s chest, this time with much more force, relishing in the red streaks they left behind. Spencer groaned at the pain, his head tilting back slightly, “o-oh sorry, I just, uh, stubbed my toe.”

As gracefully as you could, you dropped to your knees, watching as Spencer’s eyes widened while rambling off some statistics about women’s birthdays. Your hand slipped under his pajama pants, finding his semi-hard length. His hand shot up to his mouth, balling into a fist as he bit down on it to muffle any noise. His eyes met yours, silently begging you to stop, but you were having too much fun forcing him to endure the pleasure.

Spencer moved his fist as he spoke, “I-is there any way I could” he paused, biting down on his lip as you pulled his length out of his pants, “I could call you back?” He finished, his voice breathy and rushed.

You could hear the sound of a loud laugh on the other side of the line as you wrapped your lips around his head. Of course, Morgan would catch on, not that you minded, in fact, you found it quite humorous.

Without waiting for a genuine answer Spencer hung up the phone, tossing it onto the desk. His hand laced through your hair, yanking you off of his length. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

A breathy sigh left your mouth, “oopsie daisy” you giggled.

“Yeah, oopsie daisy is right, you prance in here in your slutty little sundress and distract me from my work.” Spencer growled, leaning down to make eye contact with you.

You grinned up at him, happy you finally captured his full attention.

He scoffed at your expression, “get up. Go to the bedroom, you better be on all fours on the bed, panties off, keep the sundress on.” He stood up, his chest brushing against yours, as he made his way to the kitchen.

So he did like the outfit? You smirked to yourself, eyes glued to Spencer as he opened the cabinet where you kept the bowls. He paused, and raised an eyebrow at you, “it wasn’t a question.”

You quickly made your way to the bedroom, heart racing in your chest. Finally, you would get what you wanted. You pulled up your sundress, quickly shedding your white lace panties, throwing them somewhere in the room. Climbing onto the bed, you positioned yourself on all fours, stray hairs from the messy ponytail you had thrown up falling in your face.

You could hear Spencer clanking around in the kitchen, and you tried your hardest to figure out what he was doing. You loved it when you were able to rile Spencer up enough that he would dominate the shit out of you. As much as you loved slow, passionate, loving sex with Spencer, you craved for him to pin you down and make you cum time and time again.

The sound of him making his way down the hall filled your ears, the floor creaking under him. You turned your head to look at him, and as if he could sense you, he yelled from outside the door, “face forward.”

There was no stopping the aggravated sigh that left your mouth as you turned your head forward. He stepped into the room, setting something down on the bed next to you. “So pretty” he praised, settling down on the bed behind you.

“Hmm… please, Spence?” You begged, your voice small, barely above a whisper.

His hand quickly pushed up your sundress, bunching it around your hips, his other hand came crashing down against your backside, causing you to let out a yelp. “I don’t remember saying you could talk.” He teased, his hand rubbing the stinging flesh.

You whimpered lightly, biting down on your lip to muffle any moans. His hand left your skin for a moment, coming back down twice as hard. You couldn’t stop the moan this time, “shit, Spence!”

He chuckled behind you, “since you want to talk so much, you might as well thank me.”

His hand crashed against your soft flesh, and you let out a strangled, “thank you.”

“Mhmm” Spencer hummed, his hand kneading your flesh. “You know, it’s very hot out today.” Spencer paused, and you heard a faint clinking as his hand rustled for something beside you. “But, I think I figured out the perfect way for us to… cool down.”

You let out a sharp gasp as a cool piece of ice was placed against your burning flesh. Your ass pushed back against the ice, shivering lightly as it melted against your hot skin.

“So perfect for me,” Spencer said, his voice a low grumble,

His hands kneaded your ass, spreading the water around your skin. “You know what?” He thought aloud, his hands trailing down your thighs, and his thumbs lying close to your pussy. “I think I want to eat your cunt.”

You moaned at his statement, your weak arms giving out and your face falling into the mattress. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?” Spencer questioned.

“Yes, yes, please.” You begged, nodding your head the best you could.

Spencer laughed, one of his hands leaving your leg, only to come back a moment later. His thumbs parted your folds, and you could feel him shifting on the bed. You let out a sharp yelp as he placed his mouth against you, the bastard had placed an ice cube in his mouth.

He slurped obscenely at your cunt, and your hands fisted the sheets beside your head. “Fuck, Spencer.” Your back arched, perking your ass further in the air, as his cold tongue darted out to lick at your clit.

You cried out, slightly muffled from the sheets. “Huh, fuck.” You muttered.

Spencer hummed into you, the vibrations causing your eyes to roll into the back of your head. You could feel the tension building in your stomach, and your brain became clouded with lust.

“You want to cum?” Spencer asked, his voice slightly muffled.

“Please, p-please.” You stuttered, your hips pressing back against his face.

Spencer chuckled, his mouth going back to working vigorously against your clit, a single finger prodding at your entrance. “Hmm… I don’t know. I really don’t think you deserve it.”

You whined loudly, letting out an incoherent apology, your knuckles turning white as you fisted the sheets. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

His finger pushed into your cunt, setting a relentless pace, curling slightly. “Use your words.” He commanded.

“I’m sorry, please-just please.” You were so close, you could feel the tension in your stomach threatening to unravel.

Spencer added a second finger, his pretty pink lips capturing your clit, sucking harshly. Only popping off for a moment to whisper, “cum, now.”

Your eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure overwhelmed your body, and your thighs quivered. Your walls fluttered around his fingers as he worked you through your orgasm. “Thank you, thank you-fuck.” You panted, your heart beating wildly against your ribcage.

Spencer, giving you no time to rest, brought his hand back down on your bruised ass. Your body jolted forward, and without thinking, your hands let go of the sheets, propping yourself up on your arms to try and crawl away pathetically.

Spencer’s hands wrapped around the front of your thighs, yanking you back down the bed, “oh, no, no, this is what you wanted.” He said, as his hand smacked your other cheek.

His hands left your body, you could hear the faint rustling of clothes, accommodated by a light groan. “You want me to fuck you?”

Your jaw fell open in a silent moan, closing sharply to answer “yes, yes!”

Spencer groaned, his hand lacing in your hair, giving it a sharp tug. “How do we ask nicely?”

“Please, please?” You moaned, your neck strained due to his vice grip.

“Good girl.” He praised, the head of his cock brushing against your pussy.

Your hips pushed back, begging for him, “please, please fuck me.”

Spencer laughed, the grip in your hair tightening as he sheathed himself inside you. “Fuck, fuck, yes.” You cried out, a delirious smile on your face.

“Mmm… you’re so tight.” Spencer groaned, his thrusts slow but powerful.

“Shit, yes!” You rocked back against him, straining to meet his thrusts as his pace picked up. Your breath came out in short pants, your back arching as Spencer plowed into you.

“Fuck!” You shouted as Spencer's hand crashed down onto your ass for the millionth time.

Spencer grunted behind you, his hand in your hair yanking you upwards, pressing your back against his bare chest. “Hold this” he growled, his other hand bunching the hem of your sundress, holding it above your hips.

You nodded, your hands grasping desperately at the fabric. Spencer moved his hand from your hair, snaking around the front of your body, playing with your breast through your sundress.

The tension coiled in your stomach once again, and you let out a long moan. Spencer’s thrust got quicker as he panted behind you, his cock brushing against your g-spot. “Spencer, fuck!” You cried out, and if it weren't for Spencer’s arm holding you in place you would have fallen straight on your face.

“Can I-can I?” You didn’t get the chance to finish your sentence, as Spencer’s hand moved from your breast to your clit, rubbing harsh circles, “fuck!”

Your walls clamped down around him, right on the brink of your orgasm, “please, please?” You sobbed, falling onto all fours.

“Cum, cum with me,” Spencer said, and you could feel his cock twitch as he stilled inside you, his fingers rubbing your clit raw. Your eyes crossed, and stars danced in your line of vision. You collapsed onto the bed, your arms too weak to hold yourself up, as your thighs trembled around him.

“Shit, Y/N” Spencer moaned, both his hands coming to rest on your hips.

You giggled lightly, squirming as Spencer pulled out. “I need a nap.”

Spencer laughed at your statement, his exhausted body flopping down beside you on the bed, “me too.”

You hummed lightly, rolling onto your side slowly, your muscles already beginning to feel sore. Spencer noticed your discomfort, leaning on his elbow, “was I too rough, baby? Should I get you some ice? I can go get you some watermelon, it’s rich in L-citrulline, an amino acid, it helps recover heart rate, and eases muscle soreness.”

An airy laugh escaped your mouth, “no, Spence, you were perfect, now hold me.”

Spencer wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. “I’ll get some lotion for you when we wake up, I really think you’re going to need it.”

You rolled your eyes, he was right, you could already feel the burning in your ass, and you probably would for the next few torturous days. “Just, remind me not to distract you again.”

He chuckled in your ear, brushing some of the stray hairs from your face, “you’re my best distraction.” He mumbled against your skin, his lips leaving light kisses on your shoulder.

“Derek’s never going to let you live this one down.” You laughed, looking over your shoulder to see his horrified reaction.

“Dammit,” he groaned, letting his head fall into the crook of your neck, his long hair brushing against your shoulders.

“I bet by tomorrow, the whole team will know,” you giggled

#criminalminds #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencerreid #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x reader #i miss worms

855 notes · View notes

lifeofclonewars · 3 years

Text

Voices Long Gone

As always, AO3 link below. Sorry to my want to write for Kix and the next chapter of Beginn, apparently Domino took over the writing brain cells today

Summary:

It shocks him the first time Echo does it after Rishi. Not because it’s new – far from it, actually. In fact, Fives is certain Echo doesn’t even realize he has a habit of mimicking his brothers when he quotes them.

With the others, it’s noticeable, but mainly only if you look for it. But with this particular one… as long as someone understands Basic, they pick up on it. Because Cutup had kriffing decided to speak like that when they were six.

Or, Fives' journey through hearing Echo mimic Cutup's accent following Rishi, and then some.

----

It shocks him the first time Echo does it after Rishi. Not because it’s new — far from it, actually. In fact, Fives is certain Echo doesn’t even realize he has a habit of mimicking his brothers when he quotes them. It’s another reason they call him Echo, though his brother doesn’t know that. They hadn't said so on Kamino and he's only picked up on the fact that they started to call him that for his repeating phrases and commands.

With the others, it’s noticeable, but mainly only if you look for it and know the various inflections the same voice could have. It’s more noticeable to those who knew the full squad, like 99.

But with this particular one… as long as someone understands Basic, they pick up on it. Because Cutup had kriffing decided to speak like that one Military History/Sparring Instructor they had had when they were six he had thought was cooler than the rest. He’d purposely made the accent thicker and himself more and more difficult to understand when they'd protested against it until they gave in.

It always is obvious when Echo mimics something Cutup had said, matching Cutup's ridiculous (but unique) accent almost uncannily for someone who doesn’t speak that way as often as their batchmate. Echo had started doing it when quoting Cutup within weeks of the accent's appearance. Nothing new now, but for some reason…

For some reason, following the disaster on the moon, Fives had assumed Echo wouldn't do it anymore. But of-kriffing-course his twin would, he didn't even know he was doing it. And Fives knew that, yet he had still thought differently.

It shouldn't even be as big of a deal as his mind was making it out to be. They were eating with their new squad in the 501st (the 501st!), talking more. Both of them had been quieter than normal after everything, but their squad didn't know that. Within a few weeks, when everything didn't ache and it was only when he focused on it or was reminded by random things, they would. But not quite yet, even if they were speaking what some squads might call an average amount. (Domino had never been average, in the worst and best ways.)

“After all,” Echo says, “it’s like I’ve been told many times: never wear three sets of blacks at the same time.”

The squad laughs lightly, slightly confused on the accent change, but Fives freezes, fork halfway to his mouth, as the pain that hasn’t gone away yet intensifies. He misses Cutup so much and he didn’t think he’d ever hear his voice again. And while he technically isn’t, Echo does a karking good job of making it sound the exact same way Cutup said those words.

He struggles through the rest of the meal, trying to not drown under the grief that washes over him. Still, he dismisses himself early and leaves to find a quieter, less public place to try to not break down. Echo gives him a worried look as he stands and leaves, oblivious to what was racing through Fives’ mind. The squad lets him go, understanding and knowing to leave him alone, that Echo will find him soon enough. The way it has been with both of them the past few weeks. It’s not like they have anything immediately scheduled for after the meal, anyway.

Later, he doesn’t tell Echo the full story. He’s not sure how telling Echo he sounded just like Cutup would affect his brother’s ability to do it the way he did. So he skips over that and focuses on how hearing that phrase again made him miss Cutup more than he would’ve expected a year ago.

Echo apologizes for causing him grief, but Fives tells him an apology isn’t necessary. It’s not his twin’s fault they both have more trauma than most of their brothers have at their age. It’s certainly not Echo’s fault for trying to keep his memory of Cutup intact by repeating what he’s said. (Especially when it fell under why-Echo-is-named-Echo in both categories.)

The second time it happens, Fives isn’t as shocked. He knows it’s a possibility this time, sees the way the conversation is heading and the variety of answers Echo could give. The grief still twists sharp, but the time that’s passed means it’s slightly easier to bear.

He surprises himself by not frowning or freezing when he hears the mimic. He’s missed hearing his three batchmates speak, and it’s oddly comforting to hear their words the way they said it once more. Though he doesn’t always pick up on Echo mimicking Droidbait and Hevy, especially as they meet more brothers who must’ve had the same trainer or something and say things just similar enough to how those two said them. But Cutup’s isn’t one he’s encountered elsewhere, isn’t one he thinks he’ll ever encounter again, so hearing it from Echo is the closest thing he’ll get to hearing him speak again until he’s marching on, too.

Echo continues to unknowingly mimic Cutup after the first and second time and Fives can’t bring himself to stop him, can’t bring himself to want Echo to stop doing it anymore. Even if he has to explain to a puzzled brother every now and then after the conversation is over.

Through Saleucami, Kamino (99 smiles widely when he notices Echo doing it after they explain what happened), ARC training, and beyond, Echo continues to do it. One day, having just returned from an ARC mission with the 104th and trying to get some rest in the general barracks instead of alone in the ARC ones, Fives overhears some of Torrent talking about it. Eyes closed and across the room, after clearly being exhausted when he’d greeted them, they think he’s asleep.

“Has anyone told Echo he switches accents sometimes? It’s odd, isn’t it?”

Hmm, that sounds like one of the shinier troopers. One who has been around long enough to get more used to calling Fives and Echo by their names and not just “sir” or “ARC Troopers Echo and Fives” but not long enough for anyone to tell him why Echo did that yet.

“He says stuff like his batchmates when he quotes them. The other brothers he’s known for a long time, too,” someone — Jesse, maybe — tells the kid. “If you listen closely enough, you’ll catch when he mimics Fives, Kix, Rex, and so on. Fives said it’s subconscious.”

“So why not tell him? Wouldn’t he want to know he’s saying things like his batchmate? I think I would.”

A silence follows long enough for a shrug. “Well, Fives said he’s sure if telling Echo he did it would affect his ability to do it the way he did. Ya know, if he becomes aware of it he might become overly aware of it and either not mimic it properly or stop doing it.”

“Yeah,” that sounded like Kix. “Plus, it makes Fives smile. I think he even nudges conversations in certain ways because he wants Echo to do it when one of them is missing their batchmates particularly hard. We don’t want to take that away from them.”

Oh. That wasn’t something he’d consciously been doing, either. But now that he knows, he isn't going to stop. In fact, it might actually make him do it more frequently. No, he will do it more frequently. He always misses Domino so much.

Too soon after this revelation, however, it never happens again.

Too soon after Rishi, too soon in his life, too soon too soon too soon. Now he’ll never hear something Cutup used to say the way he used to say. (He never had the same mimic abilities as his twin, after all.) Now he’ll never hear any of his batchmates speak again, whether themselves or through Echo’s insanely accurate subconscious impressions. Now they’re really voices long gone.

Too soon, Echo’s voice becomes another of the long gone.

Fives keeps the memories of Domino and Echo mimicking Domino the best he can. He can’t bring himself to reference things they said as often as he used to. It’s like the Force or fate or whatever decided to play some cruel, ironic trick on him, only and specifically him. Throw in the name of their squad and, well…

When brothers start to take notice of what he’s doing, of the lack of the mimicking, too, they ask questions. Questions Fives avoids, deflects, only really talks about with the members of Torrent he’s known the longest (that number shrinks with every battle).

But Fives will take what he can. Even if he’s the last of Domino Squad, he can still talk to Kix and Jesse about them and reminisce on reminiscing about his batchmates with them and Echo. He can tell Tup about Cutup, Droidbait, Hevy. He can tell Tup about Echo’s mimicking habit and other things he didn’t get to experience himself and what Fives misses.

He takes what he can get, what his conscious and subconscious mind will let him take. Some, in this aspect and part of war, are better than none. The brothers that do learn and listen to him, the ones he can talk to about most (but never all) of it are better than none. They’ll keep memories of Domino going on longer than he could by himself, as long as everything plays out right.

Nothing plays out right. Some of the brothers he talks to die, he doesn’t open up to more. Fives hears Cutup’s voice once again; it’s actually coming from Cutup himself. Rex’s voice fades out and his batchmate’s fades in. It reminds him of just how accurate Echo’s impression was and then it reminds him what exactly hearing Cutup himself implies.

The more time passes, the more 501st members there are that don’t know about Echo’s habit or Fives’ reaction or how they honored their batchmates or anything past the rumors about them. There’s only so much that can be shared when it’s learned second-hand, after all. Those that know try their best, though. Fives and Echo would appreciate it if they knew, they think.

(Things change when Echo returns. Suddenly, Rex is the one reeling when Echo says something the exact same way Fives had said it years and years ago and less than a year ago. A recall of something Cutup said quickly follows it. Torrent remembers conversations both long ago and recently passed.)

(Later than that, Fives isn’t around to explain to the Bad Batch the first time Echo mimics his brothers around them. They don’t know how to ask Echo about it, either.)

Fives was right, in more ways than one.

#b writes #arc trooper fives #arc trooper echo #domino twins #clone trooper cutup #domino squad #writing #fives #echo #cutup #in the bg:#jesse #kix #tup #captain rex #angst

48 notes · View notes

rrickgrrimes8 · 3 years

Text

Howard ~ Stiles Stilinski

"He broke up with me!"

A soft yet clearly infuriated voice bellowed from behind him. Stiles immediately span around towards the angered voice. And there she was the love his life that also happens to be in a relationship with the douchest guy he had ever laid eyes on. But now based on the words she practically screamed seconds ago that might not be so true anymore.

"What do you mean? What happened? Or shall I say what did he do this time?" Stiles muttered knowing that Mr Douche or more commonly known as Howard, (y/n)'s asshole boyfriend, had most likely been the reason for this quote unquote 'break up'.

"What do you think?" (Y/n) sassed trying her best to avoid breaking down for almost the fiftieth time since she left her boyfriends or better said now ex-boyfriends house.

"I don't know. And I'm not going to know until you tell me. So you know just spill." Stiles encouraged before sitting down in his office chair.

"Ugh." She said voicing her distress making her way over to his bed and basically body slamming it.

"Oh c'mon whatever he did couldn't possibly be that bad." (Y/n) shot him a dirty look and scoffed.

"Yeah well it is that bad."

"Are you just going to leave me in suspense or are you actually going to tell me?"

"He cheated on me." She mumbled into a pillow.

"Say that again?" Stiles said getting up from his chair and making his way to his bed.

"He cheated on me." She repeated still face down in a pillow. Stiles sat down next her and started to stroke her (y/h/c) hair.

"I still can't hear you."

"He cheated on me!" She bellowed removing her tear stained face from his pillow. Stiles jumped a little at her tone but quickly adjusted and pulled her into a hug.

"I-I thought h-he had changed b-but I-i caught him w-with h-her." She stuttered before breaking down into sobs probably staining Stiles' shirt with mascara.

"Oh god. I'm so sorry (y/n). He's such a fucking asshole."

The broken girl nodded slightly before adjusting herself so she was basically laying on top of him. The pair leaned back into the bed and Stiles tighten his grip around his best friends waist.

"You wanna hear the worst part about it?" She said after some time. Stiles nodded quickly while looking down at her hurt expression.

"I-I wanted to stay with him even after I found him fucking some random blonde bitch b-but apparently I'm not good enough to serve his needs or whatever. S-so he broke up with me." Stiles' blood boiled. He felt his hands form a fist and his jaw clench and unclench.

"H-he said that he never loved me and that the only reason why he ever dated me was because he needed a quick fuck." (Y/n) sighed wiping some tears from her puffy cheeks.

"And something else that is equally as fucked up is that I will forever see him as the man I lost my virginity too but he'll only ever think about me as some toy he used."

"Fuck. I'm so sorry (y/n). You don't deserve this. You don't deserve any of it. Howard is the biggest dick in the entire fucking world and he's too brain dead to realise what's right in front of him." Stiles scoffed pulling (y/n) closer if that was even possible.

"He's too stupid to see how incredible you are. He's too fucking moronic to understand that you are the greatest thing to ever happen to not only his douchy ass but to everyone that has had the pleasure of meeting you. I love you (y/n) so fucking much. And it hurts me that he hurt you and you have no idea how much I want to beat the living shit out of him and his dickish existence."(Y/n) stifled a giggle and looked up to Stiles who know was beyond furious. Stiles moved his hands to cup her cheeks and stroked them gently.

"I mean it, you know?"

"Mean what?"

"All of it. Including the fact that I love you."

The now smiling girl blushed and looked away, "I love you too Stilinski."

"No, (y/n) you don't get it." Stiles paused sighing.

"I'm in love with you. Like romance and stuff."

"Romance and stuff?" She laughed and Stiles soon joined in.

"Yeah romance."

"I'm in love with you too, you know?" She finally said causing Stiles breathing to basically stop.

"You are?"

"Yep. Painfully in love with you."

"What about Howard?”

"Howard for one is an asshole and for another thing I only dated him to try and move on from you but I guess it didn't work."

"You guess?"

"I know."

"Can I kiss yo-?" Stiles started but was interrupted with (y/n)'s lips joining with his own.

"What did you say?" She teased.

"You're such a dork." Stiles laughed before starting to kiss her again.

"I love you." They said in unison once they finally pulled apart.

"Jinx buy me a coke." The pair exclaimed in sync.

"Will you be my girlfriend if I buy you a coke?" Stiles questioned.

"Make that two and we have a deal." Stiles laughed.

"Deal." He said shaking her petite hand.

"I love you girlfriend."

"I love you boyfriend."

#stiles x reader #stiles stilinski #teen wolf stiles #stiles x you #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf #teen wolf x reader #dylan obrien #dylan obrien imagine #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski imagine

77 notes · View notes

amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 3 years

Text

Sweet Pea//my greatest adventure is you

Request: Can you do a dad (newborn-ish) sweet pea imagine

hey! title is kind of stolen from a quote i saw on pinterest and part from my own brain so its okay! how are you all? i hope you’re good! i also hope you like this! its cute and sweet and just very nice! byeeee

Two weeks ago your life changed completely.

And for two weeks you and Sweet Pea have been living in a post baby, sleep deprived, bliss.

Days of the week have long been forgotten, neither of you know the time. It’s either light or dark and that’s good enough for you. Both of you have only been outside a handful of times and they’re only for two hours at the most.

You’ve worn nothing but pyjama’s, washed your hair enough times to count on just one hand and smell like baby puke and milk.

But it’s perfect.

Everything and everyone revolves around the perfect bundle of joy that you’ve brought into the world, and that is how it was supposed to be. You’ve had visitors from just about everybody you know.

Family, friends, neighbours, as well as their family and friend. You’ve had everyone wanting to come and see your daughter, all of which bring toys, clothes, keepsakes, balloons, flowers and everything in-between.

Which is of course lovely and very helpful. Especially when you’re dealing with the fullest nappy and think you’ve run out of wipes but Sweet Pea finds three packs of them under a pile of clothes that are yet to be worn.

Plus, they also bring you presents to which you definitely aren’t complaining about. You’ve got so many pairs of pajama’s you’re not gonna need any for years.

But it also brings problems.

Because you and Sweet Pea may have read every baby/parenting book, blog and magazine known to man. But what they don’t prepare you for is how you’re supposed to fit everything into a tiny two bedroom house.

“How does a tiny baby need all of this equipment?” You ask, staring at the black hole of boxes that is your living room. Even sat on the couch there’s boxes and bags stacked around you and the two of you honestly have no idea where to start. “I mean, what the hell even is this?” You add, picking up some sort of weird looking piece of plastic.

Sweet Pea looks at it, a frown on his face before it lights up and he searches through some papers on the small table beside him. He holds a booklet up, a triumphant smile stretching across his lips before he starts reading.

The smile slowly starts to fade the more he reads to himself and you sit in silence, an eyebrow raised while you wait for him to tell you.

“Oo, erm. Apparently it tells you why the baby is crying.” He says, looking between you and the what you now realize is the instructions.

The only way you can describe his expression is puzzled, as he takes the baby crying machine from you, placing it beside the instructions and just staring at the two.

“Who the hell bought this?” He asks, resting his chin in his hands. You run your fingers through his hair, trying to calm the curls down a little and he lets out a content sigh, giving you a tired smile as he does so.

You mirror it and nudge his leg with your own. You lean your head on his shoulder, and he places his head on top. The two of you look over the paper and plastic again, reading and re-reading the instructions as it takes a while to actually understand what they are trying to say.��Its seems both you and Sweet Pea have ended up developing baby-brain.

“I think it was your Auntie Agnes.”

“Of course it was.” He chuckles and kisses the top of your head.

“What are the options?” You ask.

“Hungry, tired, changing, attention, stressed.” He says and you send him a look.

“Stressed? What an earth could a baby be stressed about? They don’t pay taxes, they don’t have to work.” You reply grumpily making him laugh and kiss you again.

“Technically we don’t have to pay taxes.”

“Technically we do if we don’t want to go to jail.” You reply.

“Who says I’d get caught.” He replies proudly.

“Me.” You reply bluntly and he stares at you offended.

“Rude.”

“True though.” You tease and grab the strange device from him, looking it over a few times before looking back at him. “So, where’s this going?”

“Back of the cupboard normally. Proudly on display when Auntie Agnes actually comes to visit?”

“Deal.” You agree. “I’ll find a place for it and you start on that box there.”

“Which one?”

“The huge red one right in front of your face.” You huff and he flips you off.

You send him a sarcastic smile in return before disappearing into the kitchen to find a space for the stupid bit of plastic.

“Why this one specifically?” He calls after you.

“Its from Toni and Cheryl and I’m excited to see what ridiculous things Cheryl has spent a fuck-ton of money on.” You reply, your voice giddy but muffled by the cupboard you’ve currently got your head in.

Sweet Pea shakes his head, a small giggle escaping his lips as he listens to you excitedly ramble about what it could be.

He pulls on the end of the bow and it falls off the wooden box and onto the carpeted floor. A bemused smile takes over his appearance as he carefully picks the lid up and places it beside him.

“Holy shit.” His eyes widen. “Y/n? Y/n get in here!”

“Wha-ow! Shit.”

“Did you hit your head?” He asks, sending you a sympathetic smile when he notices you standing in the doorway, rubbing your head.

“Yeah.” You nod and flop down beside him again. “So, what is it?” You ask excitedly.

“You’re not going to believe it.” He replies and moves further towards the box. You follow him until your sat on the edge of the sofa and your eyes widen when you look at what it is.

“Is that?” You ask, looking at him and then back at the present.

“Yep.”

Staring back at the two of you is a giant rocking horse. Like it’s massive, like Toni could definitely fit on it and it would look normal, massive even. Hanging around its neck is what looks like a diamond encrusted dummy and you and Sweet Pea just stare at each other in disbelief.

A red, handwritten card sits on top of it and you grab it, turning it around and reading aloud.

‘Y/n and Sweet Pea,

Congratulations on your new arrival! We can’t wait to meet her properly. You’re going to be amazing parents, and we’re always here if you need us. Hopefully we’ll be able to organize a play date between her and JJ soon, but until then enjoy new parenthood.

Love Cheryl, Toni and JJ.

ps: I told Cheryl you didn’t need a giant horse or diamond encrusted dummy or the other 5, very expensive gifts that are currently being shipped from Italy, but she didn’t listen, so sorry in advance. And again, congratulations!! We’re so proud of both of you!!’

“Another 5 gifts from Italy?” Sweet Pea repeats.

“Another 5, expensive gifts from Italy.” You correct.

“They have far too much money for their own good.”

“God knows where this is going to go.” You shake your head, a smile tugging at your lips as you tuck the card back into the box and place the lid back on top. “Which one should we do ne-” Your interrupted by a small cry and the two of you stop what you’re doing to listen, waiting to see if she’ll settle back down. The crying only grows louder and you and Pea share a look.

“I’ll get her.” He says and you expression softens.

“You sure?” You ask.

“Yeah.” He replies, fighting his way through the boxes and bags trapping the two of you. “I just googled how much that rocking horse is so I’m gonna go cry with her.” He says making you laugh. “You keep going down here.”

“Wait, how did that happen? You get to cuddle a cute baby and I have to figure out where to put bottles and diapers and...horses?”

“Unlucky.” He shrugs and gives you a sarcastic smile before running up the stairs.

Two minutes later and she’s stopped crying. A relieved smile takes over your face as you fold what seems like the millionth baby grow. But twenty minutes after that, Sweet Pea hasn’t come back down yet, and that makes you suspicious.

Because he’s either fallen asleep, or he’s just pretending to still be busy so he doesn’t have to help with this. If he’s asleep, you’re joining him, whether he’s on the bed or under it, you don’t care. But if not, you bet his ass you are dragging him back down the stairs.

You slowly make your way up the stairs, balancing a few pieces of clothing in your hands to put away. The door to your bedroom is cracked open slightly and instead of going straight into the nursery, you hold back and watch as Sweet Pea rocks her gently.

His back is to you so he hasn’t noticed your presence, and he’s pulling the funniest faces at her, the sight making your heart melt. Your entire universe in one room, within two people, one tall and the other tiny.

It makes all the chaos worth it.

“There once was a shoe, who’s best friend was a lace.” Sweet Pea starts, balancing a baby book in his hands as he keeps tight hold of your daughter. “They went everywhere together. But one day, the shoe stepped in a puddle and the lace got dirty so-what kind of story is this?” He complains, shaking his head as he puts it down.

“Okay, Daisy. I’ve got a much better story to tell you anyway.” He whispers into the dark room and carefully sits down in the rocking chair. “So, me and your mom have known each other for so long. Longer than you can even comprehend, not that you can comprehend much at the minute. But one day when your bigger you’ll understand. We’ve known each other since we were younger than you, thats right, we were best friends before we were born. And there hasn’t been a day that she hasn’t been around. And they’ll never be a day where she isn’t here for you either. Both of us are always going to be here.” He says, his voice gentle.

His tone is full of so much love that it makes you tear up...stupid hormones. You can’t wait to spend the rest of your life loving your little family, and you’re so happy that its Sweet Pea that you’re doing it with. You can’t imagine a life without him, you never want to.

“You have your entire life ahead of you and we’re going to make sure you live the best one you can. Because you can do anything. There’s a whole world of possibilities out there. Sometimes it feels like there isn’t, but you’ve only been here two weeks and you’ve brought so much wonder and magic to mine and your mom’s world, so who knows what you’re going to do to the rest of it.” He continues and you hug the clothes your holding tighter to your chest, despite the fact that you’re crying all over them.

“We’re going to love you no matter what. No matter who you are or who you love or what you do. As long as you’re safe and happy, thats good enough for us.” He says, a sweet smile on his lips as he stares down at her in awe. “Now, go to sleep and have the sweetest dreams you can think of and when you wake up, your mom and me will both be here for you. Thats a promise.” He whispers, pressing a soft kiss to her head before placing her gently back in her crib.

You take that as you cue to walk in, avoiding the creaky floorboard that you and Sweet Pea have already memorized the position of. He hears the door open and his smile grows when he notices you. You return it, your eyes tired and your hair messy and your clothes the same as they were two days ago. But to him you look the most beautiful you ever have.

He has never loved anyone more, well, apart from Daisy. But you’re the reason she’s here and he’s never ever going to be able to thank you enough for that.

You quietly place the pile of clothes on top of the drawers, vowing to put them away tomorrow. Them, the presents downstairs and the the rest of the world can wait, you want to enjoy this for as long as you can.

Sweet Pea grabs your hand and pulls you gently towards him. The two of you lean over the crib, watching Daisy sleep peacefully. His hands rest gently on your shoulders and you give them a squeeze, your fingers intertwining.

“Do you think babies can dream?” You wonder, looking up at Pea.

“I really do hope so.”

#sweet pea #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x you #sweet pea x y/n #riverdale #riverdale imagine

106 notes · View notes

nanapandaz · 3 years

Video

youtube

Cognitive Impairment in Schizophrenia

Disclaimer: I am not a mental health professional, I can’t diagnose you. If you think you have a mental illness please reach out to your doctor or a mental health professional.

For schizophrenics like myself, some of the most stigmatized, and sensationalized symptoms are the positive ones, meaning delusions, hallucinations, and movement disorders to some extent. You see them in textbooks and in the media; seeing, hearing, smelling or feeling things that aren’t real. Believing strange ideas, and this is my own example, like that the alien government lizard people are coming after you. These draw the most attention from the public eye, and I can’t blame them, alien government lizard people is pretty out there. But what about the less talked about symptoms such as negative and cognitive symptoms? Well, this essay will examine the cognitive side of a schizophrenia diagnosis.

According to Columbia University (2016), “many people with [Schizophrenia] also have cognitive deficits, including problems with short- and long-term memory.” They go on to say that cognitive factors can be the most disabling for people, leading to difficulty holding down a job and maintaining social relationships. They don’t have many answers as to the cause or cure for memory problems. Sucks to be us I guess. I personally have a plethora of issues with memory, short term and long term. I find myself lost when the dialogue of TV shows gets even slightly complicated because I immediately forget what was said, maybe that’s just me but it takes a toll on my self-esteem when I can't follow slightly complicated dialogue. But anyway, back to memory. Apparently when a group of healthy controls were compared to a group with schizophrenia, the healthy group, unsurprisingly, did better at memory tasks. In fact the health control groups brains showed increased brain activity the tests got harder and decreased activity when it got easier while the people with schizophrenia showed significantly weaker activity across the board.

According to Bowie and Harvey (2006) cognitive symptoms are the central feature of schizophrenia. As well as that these impairments may even present before the emergence of positive symptoms. They also found that there were “moderate deficits in attention, verbal fluency, working memory, and processing speed, with superimposed severe deficits in declarative verbal memory and executive functioning.” What is executive functioning? Well to quote Goodman (2021), “[e]xecutive functioning skills help you get things done. These skills are controlled by an area of the brain called the frontal lobe.” Things executive functioning helps you do is “manage time, pay attention, switch focus, plan and organize, remember details, avoid saying or doing the wrong thing, do things based on your experience, and multitask” (Goodman, 2021).

I’ll cover some ways to deal with executive dysfunction in a later essay.

Most people with schizophrenia will show some kind of cognitive impairment, but the severity will vary across different people. One interesting thing about these cognitive impairments is that they will remain relatively stable over time. There are some different types of impairments that I will summarize.

General Intelligence

I take some offence at the description that all people with schizophrenia have lower IQ’s, I mean there are/were some very smart people with it, like John Nash, or the people Cernis, Vassos, Brebion, McKenna, Murray, David & MacCabe (2015) studied, finding that there is “a high-IQ variant of schizophrenia that is associated with markedly fewer negative symptoms than typical schizophrenia” However the science seems to be overwhelmingly favourable in the direction that people with it have lower IQ’s as a group. On the other hand, I don’t know what kind of people they picked for their healthy control group, because if they were all university grads then it’s not really fair. So take this with a grain of salt. While the tests say that we are as a group, less intelligent than the “general” population it doesn’t mean you specifically are not intelligent. We can be just as successful as anyone else.

Attention

This one is simple, people with schizophrenia have a deficit in their ability to maintain their attention, this occurs even before the first psychotic episode.

Working memory

I have a terrible working memory, bad enough for it to be considered a learning disability. However I’m not alone in this, many people with schizophrenia have some kind of dysfunction in working memory, and apparently specifically verbal working memory. Bowie and Harvey (2006) state that “Working memory can be conceptualized as the ability to maintain and manipulate informative stimuli.” This is in contrast to attention span, with working memory being more cognitively challenging and attention span being more simple. In working memory, “The information must be held online for processing, but does not necessarily transfer to long-term storage, unlike episodic memory” (Bowie and Harvey, 2006). And poor memory can even affect social and interpersonal relationships because of the inability to pay attention to “multiple streams of information” Bowie and Harvey, 2006).

Verbal fluency

People like us sometimes find it rather difficult to speak in a coherent fashion, I remember many instances where I’ve tried to speak only for word salad to spill out of my mouth, and the looks of confusion and worry on other peoples faces is just great, really what I wanted to happen, not embarrassing at all. This inability to speak is due to “poor storage of verbal information as well as inefficient retrieval of information from semantic network” (Bowie and Harvey, 2006). Furthermore, "information that is stored is not always retrieved as a result of this inability to properly access semantic networks” (Bowie and Harvey, 2006).

Verbal and learning memory

A main impairment of schizophrenia is the difficulty of retaining verbal information. From what I understand, recognition memory seems to be able to work well in most cases, but “the pattern of deficits in schizophrenia tends to be reduced rates of learning over multiple exposure trials and poor recall of learned information” (Bowie and Harvey, 2006). So basically it takes a while for us to learn something but once we do we have good recognition memory. Now, recognition memory is the ability to recall something when you’ve seen it before, so I think what happens is if you’re able to process the information into long term memory you’ll be able to recall when you encounter that information again. Maybe I’m totally wrong, I don’t know.

Executive functioning

Now most schizophrenics have difficulties with most of all of the processes involved with executive dysfunction. Bowie and Harvey (2006) say that “schizophrenia patients have trouble adapting to changes in the environment that require different behavioral responses” which is directly due to issues with executive dysfunction. Furthermore, this “inflexibility” is highly associated with what Bowie and Harvey call “occupational difficulties.” This makes sense, when someone can’t plan, practice self-care, engage in social and interpersonal matters or participate in community functions, it’s gonna take a toll on your work life.

Treatment

Atypical antipsychotics seem to be the best treatment for cognitive impairments, though the results are sorta weak, Bowie and Harvey (2006) admit that “they have had very limited, if any, success in producing cognitive improvements. However, the search for new compounds designed specifically for cognitive enhancement in schizophrenia continues to be a promising area for future research.”

However there is also behavioural treatments, but there isn’t a lot of research on this topic. On the other hand, what little research there is, is very promising. “These strategies include training on computerized tasks similar to existing cognitive tests, teaching new learning strategies, training on novel tasks, and/or performing tasks repetitively” (Bowie and Harvey, 2006).

In the end, it seems that a combination of medication and therapy is the key. On the other hand, research by Everding (2005) states that “memory problems in schizophrenia can indeed be reduced and suggests that helping people use the right memorization strategy is critical to success.” The right strategies seem to be to remember more ‘deeply’ or according to Jantzi, Mengi, Serfaty, et al., (2019) to engage in retrieval practice, also Antzi, Mengi, Serfaty, et al.’s (2019) study is “the first to demonstrate that retrieval practice is also superior to restudy in improving later recall in patients with schizophrenia presenting with episodic memory impairment.” This is great news for us because it presents a real way of improving our memories, which apparently most of us need.

REFERENCES

Study finds brain marker of poor memory in schizophrenia patients: possible key to understanding and treating cognitive symptoms of the disease, (2016). Columbia University. Retrieved from https://www.cuimc.columbia.edu/news/study-finds-brain-marker-poor-memory-schizophrenia-patients

Bowie, C. R., & Harvey, P. D. (2006). Cognitive deficits and functional outcome in schizophrenia. Neuropsychiatric disease and treatment, 2(4), 531–536. Retrieved from https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2671937/

Černis ,E,. Vassos, E,. Brébion, G,. McKenna, PJ,. Murray, RM,. David, AS,. MacCabe, JH. (2015). Schizophrenia patients with high intelligence: A clinically distinct sub-type of schizophrenia? Eur Psychiatry. (5):628-32. Retrieved from https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/25752725/

Gerry Everding (2005). Memory study shows brain function in schizophrenia can improve with support, holds promise for cognitive rehabilitation: need cues, memory aids. Washington University. Retrieved from https://source.wustl.edu/2005/07/memory-study-shows-brain-function-in-schizophrenia-can-improve-with-support-holds-promise-for-cognitive-rehabilitation/

Jantzi, C., Mengin, A., Serfaty, D. et al. (2019). Retrieval practice improves memory in patients with schizophrenia: new perspectives for cognitive remediation. BMC Psychiatry 19, 355. Retrieved from https://bmcpsychiatry.biomedcentral.com/articles/10.1186/s12888-019-2341-y#citeas

Goodman, B. (2021). Executive function and executive dysfunction disorders. WebMD. Retrieved from https://www.webmd.com/add-adhd/executive-function

#schizophrenia #actually schizophrenic #cognitive impairment #memory impairment #youtube

9 notes · View notes

cherriesink · 3 years

Text

Yamagami Tokuichi - Murmurs

Murmurs are snippets of character reflection earned by increasing Explore Points during Exploration. They usually include 6-7 monologues about other characters and 3-4 monologues about things important to the specific character.

These lines are taken straight from the English translation of the game, so fair warning of bad grammar.

About Yatsufusa “Yatsufusa... is like a son to me. I can’t help myself whenever I see his hopeless eyes.

...But I don’t blame him. Because it takes time to accept the fact you’e suddenly become a vampire that can only drink blood. Even I haven’t fully accepted it myself. Why are we alive... and how long do we have to endure this... What’s the point of all this anyway? Nobody can keep up if those thoughts cross their mind.

But he is a C-Class- unlike an unranked vampire like me. He’s surrounded by good people too. He can live a good life if he wishes to.

Wait, “life”? ...Are we livin’ a “life” when we never die? We don’t have a clue how long vampires last... Argh, there’s no way I can teach him somethin’ because even I don’t know what vampires are exactly. I’m so unreliable...”

About Kurusu “I became a vampire the same time as Kurusu. I was a major and he was a private first-class. I was a bigwig when I was a human who didn’t even know Kurusu existed...! Then, I was bitten by a vampire and became unranked in the vampire ladder. And Kurusu, who was just a private first-class is now an A-Class vampire- the strongest in Japan...

In the military, you can climb up the ladder by working your butt off. But an unranked vampire stays unranked no matter what...

Why?! Why did this happen to me?! I was just an honest guy... Where did I miss my step and let a private-first class surpass me...?

Life can change in the blink of an eye. It would’ve been me and not Kurusu ranking in A-Class if I would’ve walked a little more to the right. You really can’t guess what life brings you.”

About Maeda “Maeda is worse than a vampire when it comes to being disdainful! You know how people call each other evil? Well, he’s the master of evil! He’s always been like that. Cause he doesn’t have any friends. He always looks down on others. That’s just how he is.

It’s the worst when you go against him in kendo... He doesn’t care about samurai spirit and kicks. He was boastin’ that he’s a master of Taisha, but he’s outta his mind if he thinks his moves are so elegant, belongin’ to a classical martial arts school! Call it “Maeda” school if you must. He provokes you and threatens you, playin’ with your mental state. He attacks once the opponent loses it. It still gives me the chills when I remember his fightin’ strategy.

He’s now leading Code Zero, but nothin’ has changed about him. I feel bad for the vampires that he taunts and then kills. Poor them... they underestimate him ‘cause he appears human. But that’s a bad idea ‘cause he’s not.”

About Takeuchi “Why does Takeuchi wanna his inventions on me every single time?! Invent all he wants. But why does he always have to use them on me?

He’s not scary ‘cause he’s a vampire. He’s simply a monster. He’s intelligent, and my hats are off to his inventions. But he lacks heart. I don’t think there are any vampires out there like him. I doubt that anything has changed from when he was a human.

I hate the skunk ball the most out of his inventions. Only vampires understand how bad it smells. The smell even gets to the eyes. What’s even worse is that our clothes absorb the smell and won’t come off for a week. Yes! It’s effective in battle ‘cause we all have the deodorize mask and it stops the enemy for a second. In a way, it’s the best weapon. But I can’t stand the lingering smell after we take off the mask! Make a soap that gets rid of the smell if you’re gonna invent somethin’ like the skunk ball, Takeuchi!”

About Suwa “Suwa mocked me from the first time we met. He might look like an innocent kid, but... I can never win against him in arguements either. I secretly call him “Mini Maeda.” He said he was already alive before the Edo period. But I can’t believe that he managed to survive that long with his personality. I mean he said hunting vampires is his hobby... What kind of hobby is that? I guess he holds some knd of a grudge against vampires because he grins when he kills them. Talk about horror stories, right?

Yet, he likes watchin’ plays, so I don’t get that guy at all. If he still has humanness left inside him where he enjoys watchin’ plays, then why can’t he share that with me? Total mystery I tell you.

Oh... and another thing I hate about Suwa is how he likes to quote kabuki. It stops our meeting ‘cause it doesn’t make sense at all, so we gotta ask what he means.

So, to sum it all up.. evil ones will always be evil, no matter how long they live for.”

About Defrott “Defrott is a mysterious guy. Apparently, he became a vampire during the Hundred Years’ War... But you don’t see underaged vampires that often. Because they’ll burn themselves before figuring things out. And I heard western vampires kill underaged ones. So- it’s tougher for them to survive.

It’s even tough for an ordinary vampire to survive. Yet, he appears to be a child and made it through the Hundred Years’ War. So... he must be really smart. I’m sure he’s mighty since he’s an S-Class... But I bet he has to be pretty wise if he was goin’ against another S-Class ‘cause he’s pretty petite.

Although... he’ll vanish me before I can even realize it since I’m unranked.

Defrott... is a French name. But the Hundred Years’ War took place where things were complicated between England and France, so he must be pretty complicated too. I wonder where he was born.”

About Tenman-ya “I feel relaxed at Tenman-ya. So, maybe I’m suited to work as their manager instead of Code Zero. I bet they rarely have dangerous jobs, so I’m seriously thinkin’ if I should work for them and leave the military...

Only, they deal with vampires far more than Code Zero does. It’s a problem ‘cause the eyes of vampires ranking above me freaks me out... it’s really terrifying.

And I heard that even the ones you should avoid go there too. If I leave the army, I won’t be able to use any of Takeuchi’s weapons. So, when I consider that... I mean, I’m just an old fart that’s slightly stronger than a normal person. Just thinkin’ about being surrounded by vampires gives me the chills...! In the end, Zero is the safest place because Kurusu is there.

I heard Shinnosuke’s grandfather passed away when he was just a child... He must’ve sacrificed a lot of things.”

About Family “I wonder what Tomiko is doing right now... She originally came to our house as a servant. I was 14. It was love at first sight. My father found out my feelings for her, and fired Tomiko. I left my house to be with her and I went to her house.

But I was rejected by her parents... Because we weren’t socially equal... Who know how many times I begged for their approval. I didn’t care if my family disowned me.

I went to her house everyday... But I realized that I never asked how she felt about me after persuading both of our parents... I remember my body shaking when I asked her to marry me.

I promised her that I’ll love her for the rest of her life... but... I’m sorry, love... I’m sorry I became a vampire... I can’t be by your side anymore.

But I will keep my promise. I’ll always watch over you. Until... your very last moments.”

About the Past “I wasn’t good at kendo, judo, or jukendo... So I worked my butt off. I studied military strategies so that I can become a general one day. Takenaka Hanbei and Kuroda Kanbei were my idols because they won battles solely with their brains...

But the secret order given to me by the Empire was espionage of Britain’s special unit. I had no clue where to look into at first. But soon after, I found that I was gettin’ myself into an atrocious matter...

Nobody would’ve guessed that it was a vampire research. Vampires lost their homes- as modernization took place during the Industrial Revolution. And the British Empire asked for cooperation in exchange for providing them a place to live. Now that I think of it, that was the template of Code Zero...

And I ended up gettin’ bitten, becoming a vampire myself... Nothing went according to plan for me.”

About the Change “Nothin’ interests me since becoming a vampire. Code Zero does pay us... but I told them to send all the money to Tomiko.

I can live as long as I drink blood, so it’s not like I have any hobby. I don’t go watch plays like Suwa. And it’s not like we can go out to eat or grab somethin’ to drink. It’s pointless to dress up. I mean, where do we have that we can go to lookin’ fancy, right?

So, that’s probably why vampires need a hobby or else we’ll die of boredom. I only cared of Tomiko’s happiness and nothin’ else. So, I don’t have a clue how to kill time...

Oh yeah, an ambassador taught me chess back when I was in Britain. Maybe I can be the strongest chess player if I keep playin’ it for 100 years. Kurusu... is my only choice I guess. I doubt he’s any good though.”

#mars red #yamagami tokuichi #it's really sad how much he misses his wife :(

9 notes · View notes

rhysismydaddy · 4 years

Text

365 Days: Part 2 (Feysand)

I feel like this should be beyond obvious at this point, but black lives matter. As a white person, I understand that I’ll never fully comprehend the struggle black individuals face on a daily basis. I stand with them, protesters, and activists as a lifetime ally. “Don’t be mad they’re rioting, be happy you don’t have to.” -- If you are not a supporter of the BLM movement, go ahead an unfollow me. I couldn’t care less.

OKAY. Sorry this is a day late! This part kind of has it all (humor, fluff, some slightly kinky smut) so I don’t know how to describe it. I also hate it, but whatever. Part 3 (last part) out Friday!

Part 1

________________________________________________________________

Day 1, 7:13 AM

~Feyre~

Something warm laid across her cheek, and Feyre peeked an eye open, only to groan at who she saw staring down at her. “If you make a habit of waking me up at the ass crack of dawn, I can already tell you you won’t live through our year of marriage, Rhysand.”

He smiled. “You have to get up. We're taking wedding pictures.”

She didn’t see the point. They’d signed the marriage license last night. How he’d procured one in less than an hour, she didn’t even want to know.

“Why the hell would we do that?”

“Because I’m a public figure, and the newspaper asked for a quote on our marriage.” She groaned. “Now get your cute ass downstairs.”

She glanced at him speculatively but stayed firmly planted in the bed. “What’s downstairs?”

“Someone to help get you ready. Not that I don’t appreciate the bed head. Up.”

Feyre shook her head. “Ask me again in two hours.” She glanced at the clock. “Make it three.”

Her husband pinched the bridge of his nose, but stood back up. She closed her eyes, happy she’d won their first argument.

Only to be proven wrong a moment later as the demon spawn flung back her blankets, grabbed her waist, and threw her over a shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Put me down,” she shrieked, beating the back of his toned legs with a fist.

Rhysand, calm as always, smoothly responded, “If I put you down, you’ll just get back in the bed.”

“No, I won’t,” she lied.

Even though she couldn’t see his face, she’d bet anything he rolled his eyes. He walked out his/her/their bedroom door and down the stairs, his casual gait suggesting nothing out of the order.

“Good morning,” he said pleasantly to whoever was waiting.

Feyre peeked around his ass to see four complete strangers, varying levels of amusement on their faces. “Um, hi.”

She was placed on a salon-like chair.

Which was odd, considering they were in the middle of the living room.

Rhysand pointed at two hulking figures sitting on the couch. “These are my friends Cassian and Azriel. You’ve met.”

The smugness in his voice, combined with the shit-eating grins of the men he was referring to, had her snapping back, “Oh yes, my kidnappers. Sorry I didn’t immediately recognize you. I had a sack over my head last time we met.”

“I’m Cassian.” The larger of the two smiled. “I’m the one you tried to gut with a butter knife.”

“I’ll have to practice my aim.”

Cassian looked at the man standing next to her and winked. “I like her.”

The other man on the couch, Azriel, sighed and shook his head, resigned.

Rhys just rolled his eyes and continued his introductions. “The two normal people here,” he gestured to a very brightly-dressed pair, “are here to do your hair and makeup and whatever else.”

He gave her a light kiss on the forehead, then spoke to his fellow criminals. “We have shit to do. Come on.”

“Are you off to do illegal activities, my dear husband?”

“Don’t worry, Feyre darling. You won’t be without eye candy for too long.”

He laughed at the look on her face, then wisely jogged out the door before she could throw something at him.

She turned to the people left staring at her with wide eyes and repressed a groan. “Let’s get this over with.”

~Rhysand~

Two hours after he’d left, Rhys came back to the house, showered, and changed into a tux. Then he went to his backyard where the photographer had set up.

“Where’s Feyre?” he asked the man as he messed around with lighting balloons.

The photographer gave him a knowing smile. “I want to get a picture of your reaction when you first see her.”

He was about to respond when the backdoor of the house opened and she walked out.

She was wearing a classic gown with long sleeves and a deep neckline, but that wasn’t what drew his attention. Her hair was up, and she had a veil trailing behind her. The sunlight made the white of her dress almost glow.

If she’d been beautiful before, now she was...

There were no words for how she looked.

Fucking radiant was a start.

She walked across the lawn to him and smiled, and he couldn’t keep the matching grin off his face if he tried.

Rhysand heard the faint snap snap snap of the camera and finally understood what the photographer had meant.

He’d wanted to capture the moment the city’s Son of Satan was practically brought to his knees by a single woman.

And Rhys didn’t even care.

Feyre finally drew close enough that he could see the details of her face. Even though he had a million more romantic things running through his brain, he murmured, “Who’s the eye candy now?”

“You are,” she said, as if it were obvious. “You look like sex on a spoon.”

His mouth dropped open, but before he could respond, the photographer butted into their moment. “Okay, I want you two to act like I’m not even here. We’re aiming for three or four really good shots, so just be natural, and I’ll let you know if anything has to change.”

They both nodded absently, still staring at each other. Rhys reached down to grab her hand, finger flicking the ring on her finger.

“I can’t believe our marriage is making the paper, and I didn’t even get a real proposal,” she teased.

It was true.

He’d put the ring on her bedside table the night before, too much of a simpering coward to give her the ring in person, too nervous about what’d she say. It had been his mother’s, and he’d once sworn to never let another soul have it.

“I didn’t want to risk your wrath and wake you up.”

She rolled her eyes and smiled.

Almost on its own accord, one of his hands reached out to cup her cheek. He didn’t know if Feyre was acting or something else, but she leaned into his touch, a hand coming to rest against his chest.

“Beautiful, just beautiful,” the photographer cooed.

“You are,” he told his wife. “You’re beautiful.”

She smiled.

“Annoying as hell, but beautiful.”

She shoved his shoulder and turned away, but he grabbed her wrist to spin her back, and decided to risk his life.

He kissed her.

Hands locked around her waist, lips crashing into hers, Rhysand kissed her like he’d been dying to since he’d seen her asleep in his shirt.

And she really, really kissed him back.

Feyre’s hands wound around his neck, and he lifted her up a little to get a better angle. Her lips opened to let his tongue in, and he had no other thoughts in his head besides the woman in his arms.

The photographer coughed pointedly.

They ignored him.

Until Rhys finally relented and set her back on the ground, both of them panting for air.

“Sorry,” she told the blushing man, but he waved her off and insisted it happened all the time.

The thing was, it didn’t.

Rhysand had kissed plenty of women in his lifetime, but none of them had made his entire body start simmering like that.

Her blue eyes watched him speculatively as he slipped the ring off her finger, dropped down to one knee, and smiled. “Feyre darling, will you marry me?”

Despite already being legally married, she bent over and kissed him, then stole the ring back. “I’ll take it into consideration.”

Day 9, 8:04 PM

~Feyre~

Feyre had to admit that while the house outside the city had a charm and wholesome quality she’d come to admire, being trapped here had started to drive her slightly insane.

Especially since Rhysand had been been on a business trip the entire week, so she’d been here by herself.

After a tense phone call with her sisters--where Nesta had cackled and called her Satan’s nephew--and getting ahead in her textbooks, she was out of things to do. So she spent most of her time being a nosy little snob and going through her husband’s stuff.

Apparently, the Son of Satan had a very serious addiction to wine, if the cellar in the basement was any indication.

But other than that--and a mysterious letter from a woman named Amren--he had no trinkets, pictures of family, or any other worthwhile gossip.

The word “boredom” hardly covered it.

Once upon a time, Feyre wouldn’t have minded a couple days like this. When law school was in session, she didn’t have a spare moment and enjoyed when she got to do nothing.

She didn’t bother lying to herself about why it was driving her insane now.

She missed Rhysand.

After only a couple days of marriage, he’d wormed his way into her heart and made her start to rely on teasing him, seeing that devilish smirk, making him laugh. The nightly texts he sent her weren’t enough to satisfy her insane need to talk to him. He’d told her he was coming back later tonight, and she was practically coming out of her skin with excitement.

She was an idiot, basically.

This marriage wasn’t supposed to involve actual feelings. It was a publicity save. And despite giving her a hotter-than-hell kiss during their photo shoot, he hadn’t so much as touched her since.

Feyre had the distinct feeling he was waiting for her to make the first move.

Which, again, she normally wouldn’t mind. But something about Rhysand... she knew once she started down that path, she wouldn’t be able to stop.

So she slept in his bed, wore his t-shirts, and avoided thinking about how his mouth had felt against hers.

And how he’d tasted like chocolate and watermelon and-

Cutting that thought off, she resolved herself to be cool and calm and collected when he came back. She needed to nip the feelings she’d started to develop for him in the bud.

But then the front door banged open, and Feyre instantly disregarded every promise she’d made to herself and raced down the stairs, yelling like a banshee.

She saw Rhysand standing in the doorway in his usual Johnny Cash uniform and didn’t hesitate before yelling, “You’re home!”

And throwing herself on him.

He dropped whatever he was holding and laughed as she wrapped herself around him like a koala.

“Are you alright, love?”

She nodded against his neck. “I’m fine. Ignore me. I’ve just been so bored. This place is way too fucking quiet when you’re not here. I think I’m going insane.”

“I believe you.”

“Asshole.”

He laughed, then did as she’d said and ignored her presence, crossing the living room to the kitchen.

Rhys bent to look through the fridge, and she tightened her hold on him.

“We have no food, also,” she told him helpfully.

“I see that. If you put some pants on, we can go into the city for dinner.”

She laughed. Along with wearing his shirts, she’d taken to stealing a pair of boxers to sleep in.

Feyre dropped to the floor, and he smirked down at her. “I was gone for five days, and that’s the greeting I got. Next time I’m staying away for six.”

She swung a hand and punched his shoulder, which probably hurt her more than him, and told him, “You’re so very funny, Rhysand. Please feed me.”

Her husband gave her a shooing motion. “You might want to put on something besides my boxers, then.”

She took his advice.

About an hour later, she sat in front of him, watching as he adamantly tried to avoid looking at her.

She’d chosen a dark green dress--unremarkable except for the low neckline and short skirt--black heels, and simple makeup.

“Are you alright, Rhysand? You look like you’re having a stroke.”

Those violet eyes slid to hers. “I’m fine, thank you for asking. I like that dress.”

“I can tell.”

He looked at the ceiling. “When we get home, I’m going to replace your entire wardrobe with burlap sacks.”

Feyre shrugged, then decided to take a chance. “You’d still stare at me.”

His eyes met hers, and when he spoke, it was practically a purr. “Am I supposed to deny, Feyre darling, how attractive I find you?”

The waiter arrived before she had to respond. She made a mental note to leave him a huge tip.

As they ate their meal, she was overly aware of how many people stared at them. The whispers that surrounded them.

She was about to ask how he dealt with it when a chair was slid up next to her, a heavy-set man settling in. “Hello, Rhysand. I need to talk to you.”

The man was dressed in dark clothes, covered in tattoos, and had the promise of violence written across his every movement. He practically had the words drug dealer floating above his over-sized head.

“Dante.” The warm look she’d come to recognize in her husband’s eyes was nowhere to be found. “Whatever it is, it can wait. Leave.”

“I promise you, it can’t,” the man said boldly, continuing to ignore her presence entirely. “A shipment’s gone missing.”

Feyre watched, stomach twisting, as Rhysand leaned forward and smiled cruelly. “Would you like to join it? I don’t discuss business in front of my wife.”

My wife.

Despite the more than tense surroundings, Feyre felt a spark run through her at the words.

“Then the bitch can leave. I need to talk to you.”

There was a slight pause, then everything changed so quickly she didn’t have time to process it. One minute she was watching the man’s face twist with impatience, the next there was a gun pressed against his ruddy forehead.

A gun that practically looked like an extension of Rhysand’s arm.

Her husband was standing, entire body stiff with anger. The look on his face was inhuman. And promised a slow, slow death as he looked towards the man on the recieving end.

“Refer to her as Feyre Asterra, or lose your fucking tongue.”

The restaurant was dead quiet, everyone holding their breath and waiting to see what happened. No one dared move a muscle.

Except Dante, who nodded stiffly.

“Now apologize.”

The way he said it, the command in his voice... a thrill sparked through Feyre, and she bit her lip to keep the gasp in.

What was wrong with her? Where fear should’ve taken root, there was raw, untapped excitement whirling inside her. Rhysand’s entire body was lined with power and dominance and rage, and it made her breath come quicker as she watched.

Dante looked at her, the hatred clear. “I’m sorry,” he spat, then looked back at Rhys.

Rhysand tilted his head, a king holding court. Another cruel smile. “Beg me.”

Something inside Feyre twisted at his words.

Beg me.

The man’s jaw flexed as he gritted his teeth, but he still said. “Please, Rhysand. I’ve worked for you for five years. I’m sorry.”

There was a pause, and she wouldn’t be surprised if someone passed out in anticipation. Then Rhys made a soft tsk sound.

“You no longer work for me. You’re no longer welcome in this city. If I see you after tonight, I won’t be as forgiving.”

The man opened his mouth to oppose, thought better of it, and sulked to the restaurant of the exit.

In that moment, Feyre knew why people called him the Son of Satan. Knew because, as calm as ever, he turned to their waiter and said, “Check, please.”

~ nsfw warning ~

Rhysand stood in front of the fireplace in their room, silent as the dead.

He hadn’t said a single word on the way home, and she could tell whatever had happened at dinner had been the tip of the iceberg. Something had gone wrong.

She replayed the meal over and over in her head, trying to figure it out, but only seemed to be able to remember one thing.

Beg me.

Something had snapped inside her tonight, and she couldn’t keep herself still. Seeing him like that, seeing the power he had over people...

Slipping off the bed, Feyre walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

Her hands were spread on his taut stomach, but he gripped her wrists and took them off. When he spoke, his voice was rough and low. “I can’t do this right now. I’m not... I’m trying to keep my promise to you.”

Stay good with me. It felt like she’d said that a lifetime ago.

Rhys turned around, drank whatever was in his glass, and looked down at her. There was violence and anger and animalistic rage in his gaze.

It did little to calm the roar in her veins.

“Break your promise.”

A muscle in his jaw flickered, but he kept his hands to himself.

She wanted him so bad she could hardly stand. Her hands found their way to his chest, needing to touch him. “Please.”

Suddenly, she was pressed against the mantle near the fire, heat scorching up her leg. His glass fell to the floor as his hands pressed against her shoulders.

He’d barely touched her, and she was breathing like she’d run a mile.

A hand came to trace her bottom lip, then he was kissing her, and she finally let out a sigh.

The day of their wedding pictures, his kiss had been decadent and exploring. But that was when he was happy.

When Rhys was pissed off, he kissed her in a raw, aggressive sort of way that made her lose her mind. A hand pulled her hair, making her tilt her head back, and he deepened the kiss.

She’d just started to unbutton his shirt when he lifted her by the back of the thighs, then dropped them both to the floor and pinned her underneath him.

Rhys braced himself over her trapping her arms above her head. She thought about the first time they’d been like this, and the look in his eye said he was doing the exact same thing.

“I wanted you so bad that night,” he told her, voice rough.

She arched her back, chest pressed against his, and he gave her a wolf’s smile.

“Did you want me, too?” he asked, lips and teeth on her collarbone.

Feyre nodded.

His mouth drifted down to her chest, and his teeth scraped her nipple through her dress. Rhys looked up at her, more monster than man in his eyes, and asked, “Were you wet for me, Feyre?”

Okay. Maybe it had been a mistake to encourage being together right now.

Only one way to find out.

She nodded again, and his eyes went dark.

A hand remained pinning her wrists, the other drifting up her thigh. His fingers grazed the lace of her panties, then slipped inside.

He ran a finger up her core, and she shifted beneath him.

“Stay still,” he ordered, the command in his voice making her freeze.

His finger slipped inside her, and he nudged the neck of her dress down to take a breast in his mouth. He made a humming sound in appreciation as he moved, then added another finger.

Feyre moaned, pushing uselessly against the grip on her hands. It was too much. He was too much. She wouldn’t survive this.

But she couldn’t force herself to stop.

She’d been right. Now that she’d started, a shower of bullets wouldn’t make her leave this room.

His stubble scraped the valley between her breasts, and then they were kissing, a deep, wet slide of tongues and lips and teeth. He kissed her in time to the movement of his hand, and Feyre groaned into his mouth.

“I need more,” she panted onto his skin.

Rhysand’s teeth closed softly on her shoulder, and then he was looking down at her. His eyes were so dark they were like the nighttime sky, and then he said the words she didn’t know she’d been craving.

“Beg me.”

She whimpered underneath him, shifting restlessly.

A small, knowing smile was on his face, and she would’ve punched it off if she hadn’t been so attracted to it.

“Please. Please.”

His hand was on her jaw, and he pressed a wet kiss to her lips. “Good girl.”

Lord help me.

He made quick work pulling her clothes off, then leaned back on his knees, surveying her head to toe.

She repaid the favor.

She didn’t know when his shirt had fallen open, but she sure as shit wasn’t complaining.

His chest was covered in tattoos, the dark swirls running across his pecs and shoulders, all the way to his fingertips. The tattoos, the dangerous look in his eyes... Feyre lost a bit of her sanity as she leaned up to drag her mouth up his stomach.

Flicking open his belt, Rhys pushed her back down. Then his pants were pulled down, and he was spreading her thighs and settling in between them before she got a proper look.

“Again.” He looked half crazed with anger and lust.

She nipped at his bottom lip. “Please.”

He was pushed inside her, deep and slow and steady. He groaned in her ear, and the sound threatened what remained of her.

Then he gripped her hips, lifted slightly, and began to move.

Holy gods.

Feyre didn’t know what language she was speaking in, but it wasn’t English. She was murmuring incoherent somethings, not able to string together proper thoughts.

She moved in rhythm with him as he picked up speed, and even though they were spread out on the ground, Feyre felt like a freaking queen.

He was taking his time, listening and learning what she liked, and she could feel herself getting closer and closer to the edge.

Soon she was so loud it was a miracle they didn’t have close neighbors.

But as soon as she felt release start to come, he paused his movements.

The sound that came out of Feyre’s mouth was close to a snarl.

Rhysand smiled, gripping her chin. “Do you want to come, Feyre darling?”

If she wasn’t practically immobile, she’d strangle him. “You’re such an insufferable bastard, Rhysand Asterra. Yes.”

“And what do people say when they want something?”

She bit his lip in frustration, but said, “Please, you pri-”

His hips slammed into hers, a moan cutting her off as release crashed into her. Muscles twitching, face pinched in concentration, he followed her lead, collapsing on top of her.

They laid there together, both breathing heavily, until she started losing air. He rolled off her and looked over her with male satisfaction.

There was still a little tension from earlier, but his usual brightness and light was back. It was impossible not to smile at the happiness coursing through her veins.

Then he opened that smart mouth. “Let’s take a moment to remember when you said you could go two years without sleeping with me.”

“In my defense,” she panted back, “I hadn’t seen you in action before.”

He looked adorably shocked. “So threatening to shoot people is hot to you?”

“When it’s because of me, yeah.” She flicked his bicep, unable to help it. “I almost jumped you right then and there.”

He started kissing her neck, grinning against her skin. “I might have to hunt him down, then.”

She laughed, hands playing in his thick hair. Feyre pulled him back on top of her, a deliciously heavy dead weight. “I think I might have to update my pros and cons list.”

Rhysand laughed, and Feyre doubted a year of looking at that smile would be enough.

Hell, a lifetime might not be enough.

She didn’t let the thought linger.

“Do you think there’s some innocent people around for you to threaten?”

A kiss to her temple. “I’ll hire someone if I have to.”

________________________________________________________________

Part 3

@a-bit-of-a-cactus @bamchickawowow @aesthetics-11 @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @rapunzel1523 @negativenesta @burritowithfeels @exciting @sis-it-dont-add-up @mockingjayusa @aelin-is-my-heart @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @awesomelena555 @thekeytohappiness-is-you @keshavomit

#feysand #feyre archeron #rhysand #feyre x rhysand #feysand smut #feysand fanfiction #acotar #acowar #acomaf #acofas #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a court of frost and starlight #a court of wings and ruin #acotar fanfiction

205 notes · View notes

misssophiachase · 3 years

Photo

Thanks to the talented @klarolineagainnaturally for the gorgeous cover, I am in love with it! So, in honour of Valentine’s Day, here is an UPDATE, thank you for the love you’ve all given me so far. Let me know what you think.

Synopsis: One wedding involving a best man and maid of honour who've grown up together but don't know quite how to reconcile their unresolved feelings.

Mr Mikael and Mrs Esther Mikaelson and Dr Grayson and Mrs Miranda Pierce request the pleasure of your presence at the wedding of their children:

The Hon Elijah Edward Mikaelson and Dr Katherine Elena Pierce

On the twenty-third of June, twenty-twenty one, 1400h at Ely Cathedral followed by a reception at Mikaelson Manor, Ely Cambridgeshire

Dress: White Tie

23rd June 2021, Mikaelson Manor, Ely Cambridgeshire - 9:39am

“Okay, less trying to manhandle the cupcakes and instead more hustle, Mikaelson,” Caroline ordered, barely slowing down in the process.

Klaus, meanwhile, was trying to be annoyed but couldn’t stop thinking how adorable she was when taking charge. He’d met her in the kitchen as directed and was already in full ‘save the cake’ planning mode. She was in her element clearly.

He was a little disappointed she’d decided to change out of the shorts and robe combination into jeans and a t-shirt but Klaus decided that it was okay if he could spend even a little more time with her. Once the wedding started he doubted they’d have much time to talk, let alone anything else.

Which was unfortunate for Klaus because he had a lot he wanted to say. Over a decade’s worth of things, in fact.

The realisation that he’d liked her since high school but was too stupid to see it.

Then falling in love with her two years ago when they pseudo speed dated and watched romantic comedies on Valentine’s Day. He’d woken up with her cradled in his embrace and Klaus knew it probably wasn’t a coincidence they’d ended up that way.

The night had been unlike anything he’d ever experienced with anyone. When she pretended like nothing happened Klaus had no choice but to deny it too. He’d been in denial ever since until now.

The previous night’s events had been playing on repeat in his mind as he tried to sleep. She stole his sandwich and then they talked, like really talked.

Then there was that whole other thing that happened before Tully ate the wedding cake. Nobody knew about that yet and given it was his brother’s wedding day it was probably best.

Too much to say and too little time clearly.

“So, what exactly are these bonbons for anyway?” He asked, removing one from it’s white box and transferring it to the cake stand.

“It’s Bomboniere.”

“What now? We can’t all be wedding aficionados,” he joked.

“They are the gifts for the guests,” she explained. “We’ll make them the cake, not overly traditional but problem solved.”

“Well, not to nitpick love,” he murmured, she gave him a look which clearly meant she didn’t believe him. “But what are you going to give the guests instead? I mean I don’t need a gift, even if my presence is a gift in itself to the happy couple.”

“Ignoring that ego, I assumed people wouldn’t notice?”

“If you mean my grandmother as well as Mikael and Esther then good luck,” Klaus shared.

“Well, do you have any better ideas?”

8.5 hours earlier

“Well, do you have any better ideas?”

“I only mean that you could kill a few of the jokes and add some more sentimental content, I realise you do have that stand-up comedian dream but I’m sure it can wait a little longer,” Caroline teased, sandwich in hand. He’d long given up hope she’d return it to him.

“Sentimental? Have you met me, Forbes?”

“Oh come on, I’m sure you have something buried way deep, deep, deep down inside.”

“Cute.”

“He’s your brother, you must have something you could share about growing up together and…”

“Well, there was that time he wet his pants when Kol…”

“Not what I meant, Mikaelson, and you know that. He’s getting married, this is your only opportunity to do this and you have to get it right.”

“So, what have you written for your Maid-of-Honour speech?”

“Oh, so now you’re going to copy me? Trust me, I don’t think you could pull off half my speech.”

“Let me guess, you are going to say something like...'the best love is the kind that awakens the soul and makes us reach for more, that plants a fire in our hearts and brings peace to our minds.'

“Did you memorise The Notebook?”

“You made me watch it remember?”

“Yeah, like two years ago."

“What can I say, cheesy lines have this annoying ability to lodge themselves in my brain, unfortunately.”

“Let me guess you’d say: a wedding is a sacrament... a joyous celebration of love and commitment. In utopia. In the real world... it's an excuse to drink excessively and say things you shouldn't say.”

“Says the girl who’s judging me but using her own rom com lines.”

Klaus realised he was trying to play it cool and quoting the Notebook and recognising dialogue from The Wedding Date wasn’t a great look. Klaus didn’t want to admit it, especially to Caroline, but he might have watched those movies a few times since.

It was ridiculous, especially given he didn’t like them..much...but they reminded him of her. He figured if he couldn’t have the real thing he’d torture himself with romantic comedies instead. Messed up, right?

“ So it isn’t true?”

“That guy had the right idea.” Of course he knew the guy was called Nick but Klaus figured he’d already embarrassed himself enough.

“So, you don’t believe in marriage.”

It was faint but he could sense the change in her tone and strain in her voice. For a split second Klaus felt buoyed, like maybe he still had a chance with her. But at the same time he wasn’t sure if he was imagining things.

“I believe in marriage if it’s for the right reasons and with the right person,” he replied, noticing her face soften slightly. “I just think the concept that the wedding day is supposed to be the biggest and happiest day of your life is wrong. It’s about the commitment, not just one day.”

“I think that’s fair, everyone gets caught up in all of the wedding festivities and forgets about the real meaning behind it all.”

“As we hunt for wedding rings in the garden and madly try to perfect our speech the night before,” he teased. “Although that part about drinking excessively and saying things you shouldn’t has my Great Aunt Maude written all over it.”

“Noted,” she chuckled. “So, maybe that’s what you need to say in your speech then.”

“I’m not sure my mother would appreciate me insulting Great Aunt Maude during the speeches, even if she will probably be too drunk to remember.”

“Not that part,” she shot back, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly. “The part about marriage being not just one day but a commitment shared for life.”

“Let’s hope everyone is too drunk to remember me saying that,” he joked. “I do have a reputation to protect, Forbes.”

“Well, maybe it’s time you stopped caring about what people think and be yourself. If there is anytime to do that it’s for your brother’s wedding.”

“You have this annoying habit of eating my food, making me watch romantic comedies and also making me feel guilty.”

“It was one sandwich, Mikaelson. If you don’t want me to eat it next time don’t add mayonnaise. As for the guilt, maybe that is just your conscience screaming to be heard in the form of a best man speech.”

“I never said I wasn’t taking notes.”

He held her gaze, a genuine smile that had been suppressed. Instead of looking away, Caroline’s blue eyes remained trained on his. It was as if there was no wedding or kitchen or mayo sandwiches. Just them. At this moment.

Klaus could pinpoint the exact moment he knowingly fell in love with Caroline Forbes, it was when she teased him about crying during the Notebook. The moment he unknowingly fell in love with her was when she rolled her eyes at him when he gave a smart ass comment during english class. Here and now, Klaus knew no one would ever compare to Caroline Forbes and that he needed to get out of his comfort zone and tell her just how he felt.

“Caroline…”

“Wow, is that the time?” She interrupted, her creamy cheeks tinged slight pink as she consulted her watch. “We should get to bed if we want to be functional tomorrow.”

Then she was gone as quickly as she’d arrived. Klaus wasn’t sure how to feel. Disappointed she’d interrupted him or relieved that he didn’t make a fool of himself.

Either way, sleep didn't come easily that night.

“Hello?”

“What did you say?” Klaus broke out of his trance wondering how long she’d been trying to reach him.

“I said, how are we going to fix the Bomboniere issue,” she pressed. “It’s T minus four hours until the ceremony starts. If only your grandmother and parents didn’t have such a keen eye for detail.”

“It’s not detail, it’s how things will look,” he drawled, knowing his parents’ motives all too well. “I’m surprised they thought a cupcake would suffice to be honest.”

“Well, Kat wanted to do a donation gift to the hospital for the Bomboniere and there was so much back and forth during the planning stages that a cupcake was a quick fix.”

“A donation gift?”

“In lieu of a gift, the happy couple donate to a chosen charity on the guest’s behalf.”

“That’s a brilliant idea.”

“Well, not to brag but it was my suggestion.”

“Of course it was,” he said warmly, thinking it was just another reason to love her for being so kind and generous. “What was their issue with a donation to a good cause? Oh hang on why am I even asking, it’s my parents, I know exactly why.”

“Well, apparently your father argued it would be showing favouritism to donate to one particular cause and given Elijah is supposed to represent all people and groups it wouldn’t be a good look.”

“Oh please,” Klaus scoffed. “That is a lie and we all know it. I love how my parents can still manipulate every situation to their benefit even years later.”

“To be fair to Kat and Elijah I think it was just easier to give in to avoid further disruption of the event plans which were already fairly delayed.”

“It’s their wedding and they should be able to choose what they want,” he growled. “Okay, I have an idea.”

“I’m listening.”

“We nominate a half a dozen different charities and it is up to the guests to choose where their donations go. Then father can’t say the bride and groom are being partial to one charity over others…”

“But that the decision is ultimately up to the guests.”

“Exactly.”

“But there’s not much time to make it happen.”

“I hate to stereotype but I’m going to,” he shared. “Men don’t take that long to get ready, with the exception of Kol, so we can get this done in time, I promise.”

“I’d like to help...”

“On the other hand, and not to stereotype, but some women take longer to get ready.”

“You’re talking about Rebekah aren’t you?”

“Apparently I am incredibly transparent too. How about I work on this and you find a cake or cupcake topper?”

“Wow, you know its name? Have you ever considered wedding planning as a new career direction, Mikaelson?”

“You tell anyone about my part in this and I will detail the almost wedding ring loss in my best man speech and that is a promise, Forbes.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” she mused, her smile widening and tugging at his heart more than he was expecting. “But I’ll take it.”

She held out her hand and Klaus was almost afraid to touch it given the feelings it would no doubt conjure up and now was neither the time or the place. He acted against his better judgment and enveloped his hand in hers.

Her skin was soft and enticing and as soon as she touched him, the feelings he was trying to ignore had made their way from bubbling below the surface to front and centre. But there was a wedding and Klaus wasn’t even sure if she felt what he did so it really wasn’t the time.

“Klaus...” the way she said it was so vulnerable and inviting and all he wanted to do was let her finish the sentence but he was also afraid at the same time. He couldn’t do rejection right now, that was for sure.

“I, uh, better get going if we are going to pull this off,” he smiled, albeit awkwardly given his heart was racing due to their unexpected contact. “We’ll compare notes in a few hours.”

He was the one to leave this time.

Klaus felt bad but at the same time he knew it was the right thing to do given the enormous job at hand.

Entering his bedroom, Klaus close the door quietly behind him. He leaned his head up against the door, willing his heart to stop racing and to return to normal so he could try and be productive. Klaus knew he needed to focus.

Then he let his eyes wander around the room. He could be messy at times but this was another level. His clothes were strewn across the whole space. Given he hadn’t packed that much, Klaus was wondering how his clothing seemed to have tripled in that time.

Then he realised it, there wasn’t more of it, it was just cut into many pieces. He bent down and grabbed a few handfuls of material confirming the jagged edges weren’t a fashion statement but sabotage pure and simple.

Klaus knew exactly who had done it and why. Klaus knew he was to blame for her outburst, although he was certain she wasn’t that upset at the time given she couldn’t wait to get out of this ‘god forsaken place’ he’d dragged her to in the ‘middle of nowhere’ with ‘nobodies’ to ‘the detriment of her social media.’

Yes, he’d woken from a restless night after his time in the kitchen with Caroline and decided it was best to be honest and tell the truth. Klaus couldn’t in good conscience keep dating Hayley when he was madly in love with Caroline. Even if she didn’t reciprocate his feelings Klaus knew Hayley didn’t deserve that. She’d basically packed her bags on the spot while he tended to the Tully cake eating emergency. When he’d returned briefly she’d shut herself in the adjoining bathroom and wasn’t ready to talk.

Looks like she still wasn’t given the bathroom door was wide open and her luggage was missing. On the plus side she’d left but on the down side she’d shredded his entire wardrobe. Immediately Klaus felt sick, rushing to the wardrobe to check on his suit for the wedding. Needless to say it had been unceremoniously massacred and left in a pathetic heap at the bottom of the cupboard.

A woman scorned and all that.

Now, he didn’t just have Bomboniere to fix, as promised, but now he had a suit emergency too.

“Bloody weddings,” he muttered, wondering how he was going to fix this problem.

#all you never say #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline fanfic #misssophiachase #klaroline #thanks lottie #klarolineagainnaturally

18 notes · View notes

malewifegrantaire · 3 years

Text

The Birthday Thing

READ PART ONE HERE

PART TWO: Guess who’s coming to dinner hang out for no apparent reason (as far as Grantaire can tell)?

Combeferre had inadvertently ruined the rest of Grantaire’s week. It wasn’t his fault, of course. He couldn’t be blamed for Grantaire’s Incredibly Bad Brain. But still, “I just know Enjolras and I know he likes you” is a very reckless phrase to pepper into a conversation with someone of Grantaire’s constitution. He could hardly fall asleep that night because the words I know he likes you were clanging too loudly against the bars of the jail cell he called a mind. He didn’t mind too much though. The clanging was because Enjolras liked him, which made all of the noise sound a bit like music.

Grantaire picked out an outfit for the party and laid it out like he was a little kid excited for a school trip. Embarrassed with himself, he threw the entire outfit into his clothing hamper so he wouldn’t have to look at it lying out on his dresser anymore. Which was obviously a mistake, because now the clothes were are wrinkled and they were touching his actually dirty clothes. Which meant now he had to do a half load of laundry on a weekday, which he really didn’t like doing.

As he folded his laundry, Grantaire felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Huh. It was from Combeferre. Odd.

hey, are u free? sorry lol i am bored and wanted to know if u wanna hang out ??

Very odd. Maybe the wrong number? Just to be safe, Grantaire texted back:

grantaire is folding laundry right now, like a responsible adult.

Two texts back:

very interesting use of third person..

i can help if u want! i love 2 fold things

So this was Grantaire’s life. He used to be young and wild, and now he’s the sort of person that makes plans with people who text him sentences like “i love 2 fold things.” He typed his response.

uh, sure? might get boring, but i’ll never say no to an extra set of hands.

About fifteen minutes later, Combeferre was inside of Grantaire’s apartment. “You got here fast.” Grantaire said.

“I was in the neighborhood.”

“Aren’t you always?”

Combeferre took in Grantaire’s apartment, which gave Grantaire such a wave of self-consciousness that he thought he might be sick. It was a fine apartment, kept clean mostly because Grantaire hardly spent any time in it. The ceilings were far too low for Combeferre.

“This is a really nice place.” Combeferre said. “Have you lived here long?”

“Five years, I think.” Grantaire said. “I think the landlord thought I’d have left by now, but, well. I’m still here.”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s nice. Good windows. Not easy to come by.”

Grantaire laughed at that. “Hey, was there something you wanted to talk about? Or are you just here to admire my big beautiful windows?”

Combeferre looked slightly embarrassed. “Uh, the latter, I guess.” he said. “I mean, just what I texted, I was bored, and I guess . . . I don’t know. I guess I thought we could just hang out?”

Now it was Grantaire’s turn to be embarrassed. Of course. Combeferre is the sort of person who’s actually, you know, decent. He was just trying to be nice and Grantaire was accusing him of having an ulterior motive. Way to go. Grantaire cleared his throat. “Well, thanks for coming. Feel free to park wherever. I only did a half load of laundry so I’m finished folding, sorry. I know how much you love to fold.”

“I went through a very intense Marie Kondo phase.” Combeferre grinned. “Let me know if you ever need your closet to be reorganized.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Grantaire said. It was dawning on him that, being more of the roaming type than the nesting type, Grantaire almost never had people over his apartment, and therefore had very little hosting experience. So he did what he always did in situations like this - said what people say in movies and books and all that.

“Can I offer you a beverage of some kind? I’ve got . . . tap water. And orange juice. And maybe beer?”

“I’m alright, thanks.” Combeferre said kindly. Combeferre’s fridge was probably fully stocked with sparkling water in every flavor for guests to sip on, the bastard. He sat down in a little chair by the kitchenette. “What, what is it?” he asked, looking at Grantaire’s expression. “Why are you - what’s funny?”

“Everything is too small for you in here. It’s like shoving a Barbie doll into a Polly Pocket house.” Grantaire said with a laugh. Combeferre tucked his long legs a bit closer to himself.

“Well, Barbie is a good role model, so I’ll take that.”

“I think an averaged sized woman or two might disagree. Anyways, you’ve got impeccable timing.”

“What do you mean?” Combeferre inquired.

“I mean that someone must have wanted us to hang out today. God, the Fates, some non-denominational arbiter of Destiny.” Grantaire was doing that thing he always did where he ended sentences in a way that begged the listener to ask him to explain himself. Why he chose to speak in these irritating circles? We will likely never know. Grantaire sure as hell didn’t.

Combeferre rolled his eyes, but he seemed more amused than annoyed. “You’re impossible.”

“It’s been said before.” was Grantaire’s reply. “What I mean to say is I’m literally never home. Not literally-literally, but, you know. This apartment is basically a glorified storage unit that I visit when there is absolutely nothing else to do. So the fact that you happened to be passing by on a laundry day...”

“... a work of divine intervention?” Combeferre finished.

“I’d go so far as to call it a miracle if I believed in that sort of thing.” Grantaire said.

Combeferre’s next question caught Grantaire off-guard somewhat. “So you’re an atheist, then?”

Grantaire had never actually seen a shrink, but he had the passing sensation of being sprawled out on some brown leather fainting sofa. Maybe that’s what this was, a psych eval. He’d get a message from the official Les Amis de l’ABC e-mail account later in the week saying “sorry, R, you’ve been deemed mentally unfit to be a part of this organization. We know the Musain is public property, but if you could avoid the premises during our scheduled meeting times we all think that’d be for the best.”

“Well, yeah, aren’t all of the lefties heathens nowadays? At least that’s what Twitter tells me.” he said. His paranoia would not rob him of his (debatable) sense of humor.

Combeferre just shrugged. “I guess if I had to call myself something I’d say I’m agnostic.”

“Huh!” Grantaire said, genuinely surprised. “A member of the ‘namby-pamby, mushy pap, weak-tea, weedy, pallid fence-sitter’ brigade, are we?”

Two things occurred to Combeferre at once: One, that Grantaire was quoting Richard Dawkins, and two, that Grantaire could not have been certain that Combeferre would recognize the quote when he said it. Grantaire was both the sort of person that committed Dawkins to memory and the sort that didn’t really care if someone mistook his references for a string of improvised insults. The more Grantaire spoke, the more Combeferre became aware of how little speaking they’d ever done.

“I guess I just think one can never be sure.” Combeferre said.

Grantaire thought now would be a good time for a subject change. “So, how is party planning going?” he asked.

Combeferre sighed. “It’s . . . it’s going.” he said. “Well, okay, I’m being dramatic. Courfeyrac is actually the one doing most of the planning. I just get weird about stuff like this. I want Enjolras to like everything, you know?”

“I don’t think Enjolras is capable of disliking anything you do.” Grantaire said in a way that to the untrained ear might sound like a veiled insult, but that Combeferre suspected was an attempt at genuine sincerity.

“Well, thanks.” Combeferre smiled gratefully. “I just want him to have a good time.”

“He will. It’s the rest of us you’ll have to work to entertain.”

“Well, Courfeyrac has a slew of party games he’s preparing. Oh, and, uh, Enjolras mentioned he’s glad you’ll be able to make it. By the way.” Combeferre said, which made Grantaire blush, which made Combeferre smile.

Grantaire hated that. Not just when Combeferre did it, when any of them did. Making faces or little comments, as if they were in on some big secret. It’s like they were proud of themselves for noticing Grantaire’s little crush, like they knew something funny or scandalous or cute. But they didn’t know anything, not really. Grantaire didn’t have a crush on Enjolras at all. It was more like a religion. Maybe he’d been too quick to brand himself an atheist earlier.

His annoyance with Combeferre soured the rest of their conversation. He became mean, curt, and downright humorless. This wasn’t at all fair, he knew. Grantaire probably annoyed Combeferre every third sentence (maybe every third word) and that had never stopped Combeferre from being his usual amiable self. There was another difference between the two: Grantaire lacked both grace and graciousness, and Combeferre, it seemed, never ran out of either.

“Well, I guess I should be leaving.” Combeferre said after a while, rising from the squat chair he was sitting in.

“I guess.”

“Uh, thank you for having me over. We should do this again some time. I had fun.” Combeferre lied.

Grantaire smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes. “Yeah, why don’t we all do brunch some time? You can bring your friends, it’ll be a real party. Everyone can sit around admiring my huge windows. What a blast!”

Combeferre knew he was joking, but he couldn’t decipher the punchline. What would be so bad about having all of their friends over for brunch? Why did he say the word “friends” like that, all sardonic and italicized? Combeferre almost asked him, but instead he just shook his head and smiled.

“Okay. Well. Bye!”

Grantaire waved lazily. “See you around.”

Under normal circumstances, the phrase “Enjolras mentioned he’s glad you’ll be able to make it” would have found itself fluttering in the pit of Grantaire’s stomach. Instead, there was something else sitting in there. Something that felt a bit like failure, a bit like guilt, and - most surprising of all - a bit like affection.

This is precisely why he didn’t like having people over.

#LOL this was fun.#next up: the actual birthday thing!#ok tags time #grantaire #combeferre #les amis #les miserables #my fic #uhhhhh what else....#cw alcohol mention #it’s sort of blink and you miss it but you know #again it’s peripheral but might as well:#e/r #i’ll come back if i think of anything else

16 notes · View notes

undertale-in-writing · 3 years

Text

Undertale In Writing: Page 2

You feel as though years have passed while you stood there, staring at the flowers. Though it's only been one heavy moment.

You take a deep breath and kneel down to pluck a flower from the ground. You tuck it behind your ear. You stand and turn to gaze into the darkness. Something warm fills your chest, not entirely unlike when Flowey revealed your SOUL. Just to be sure, you look down. There's no glowing, only calm... fullness. Stubbornness. DETERMINATION.

You felt something like this when you woke up before, but it was uncertain, confused. Now, it's fully taken root. You turn and begin to follow the path you took previously. Not like there was any other path.

Flowey appears again in a blink of light. You take note this time. He seems to be glowing. It's magic. All magic has a slight glow, and all monsters have magic. I can't think of any flowers down here that glow like a monster, though; echo flowers glow, but those are bioluminescent. And he doesn't smell like a normal flower.

The familiar face is still for a moment, then he breaks into a grin. “Howdy! I'm Flowey! Flowey the flower! Hee hee hee...” He tilts his head slightly, humor in his voice now. “Why'd you make me introduce myself? It's rude to act like you don't know who I am. Someone ought to teach you proper manners.”

You frown, because you're still not sure what happened. He killed you, didn't he? Was he the reason you were placed back at the start? I feel like it's more than that, but how come he remembers you?

No time to dwell on it. The golden flower begins following the same script as before. He opens the battle stage, refers to your heart. “That's your SOUL,” he says, as if you hadn't heard this before. He introduces LOVE, and he pulls out his bullets. “Down here, LOVE is shared through... little white... 'friendliness pellets.'”

You frown. Why is he telling you all this again? You know it, and he knows that you know it, and he should see from your expression that you know he knows you know it. Your lips purse. You want to say something, but you can't bring yourself to speak in this moment. The energy required is currently being used to prepare for what comes next.

“Catch as many as you can!”

You jump the side. The bullets dart by you and dissipate in the air a few feet back.

Flowey's expression changes. He holds onto the smile, but now it's challenging. Almost taunting. “Hey, buddy, you missed them. Let's try again, okay?”

You ready yourself, mind racing over how you might get out of this. Maybe you can outlast him?

The bullets shoot into you, and this time you can hardly react. They make contact. Your heart pulses, your feet slide back an inch, there are holes in your sweater and blood and bruises and it hurts.

But you're not in pieces. The wounds are shallow. You try to stand tall in defiance, but there's a pain in your shoulder that makes you wince, and you realize that you're very weak.

Flowey laughs. His face contorts into an evil smile that frankly does not belong in 3D space. “You idiot,” he cackles.

Your mouth opens in protest; a sound comes out—a soft, “I'm not—!” but you have to clamp it shut. Your face reddens.

Flowey continues. His voice is different. Somehow, he's made it sound like he's speaking through a crackly intercom. He says, “In this world, it's kill or BE killed. Why would ANYONE pass up an opportunity like this?”

A chill runs down your spine. This flower... isn't a monster. Monsters aren't like this. Monsters aren't evil.

“DIE!”

A ring of bullets form around you and come flying at your tiny torso. All you can do is yelp and curl into yourself. You're going to die again. You're going to hurt again. He's going to tear you apart.

There's a crackling sound, and a fwoosh. You glance up. A ball of white-hot fire hits the flower in the back of the head, and his roots are torn from the ground as he flies off into the darkness with a small “eep.”

Suddenly, you're alone. It's dark. You're confused. Disoriented.

Annoyance floods your brain. You'll probably be nonverbal all day now.

You push yourself to your feet, flinching when a shallow cut on your stomach pulls sideways. The battle stage is still there, but you can't feel Flowey's presence anymore. Something else looms from where the flame originated. Fiery red eyes bore into you from the darkness. A shape emerges, tall and fuzzy. A pair of small, sharp horns curl up from the top of a long-eared head. A snout exhales with annoyance.

You see the monster's dull claws at eye-height. The sleeves of a strangely familiar robe fall over one paw as it's drawn to the monster's hip.

“What a terrible creature,” she scolds, “torturing such a poor, innocent youth.”

Her voice is gentle. Familiar. Comforting. Motherly. You tilt your head again to look into her eyes, and she bends down to bring herself on your level. Now that you see her face head on, she doesn't look scary anymore. Her ears are soft and floppy, her horns small, her smile friendly, her eyes kind. She looks like a concerned goat mom, if goats were... What's the word..? Anthromorphic?

“Do not be afraid, my child,” she says softly. “I am Toriel, caretaker of The Ruins. I pass through this place every day to see if anyone has fallen down.” She pauses, and you realize that the battle stage is gone. There's color in the world again, and your heart is in your chest where it belongs.

Toriel smiles and stands suddenly. “You are the first human to come here in a long time.” Her robe flows loosely as she reaches down with one paw. “Come! I will guide you through the catacombs.”

You don't take her paw. Toriel isn't fazed by this. She turns ninety degrees and gestures into the darkness. “This way.”

Page 1 — Page 3

[End page]

We made this blog almost two years ago and never followed up, so here’s page 2. We’ll try to continue it indefinitely, even if it takes a while. It’s still very much something we’re interested in.

Rules:

This is an interactive Undertale adaptation, not an AU. All actions taken must fit into the game. Obviously I’m taking little liberties with the reset system, but nothing is changing. If you want your response to be included, it shouldn’t change the plot. It’s about informing a player character’s decisions and, to an extent, Frisk’s personality.

You don’t need to follow some kind of format or command system. Your response can be in a comment, a reblog, a reblog of another’s reblog, a comment continuing another’s comment… It can short or long. It can be a suggestion or a narration.

The readers, together, are the player character.

Some time will pass, and we will take all responses as a vote. Common actions will become “canon,” and the story will continue. Influential commenters will be tagged, and anything we directly quote will have credit immediately after the section.

Commenters last round: @thesuperduckling24, @finallycrawledoutfromundermyrock, @thepotatoreader, and @arireblogthat

If threads form of various players writing out their own alternate timeline, that’s fine too! There are no restrictions in how you respond. No need to limit yourself to what you think I’ll write down.

Headcanons that we’re using to include as much flavor from the game as possible:

We’re running with the Chara as narrator interpretation, because the tone of the narration is a major part of the experience. It may come out more in the future, but we’ll never name them. We will also adhere to the canon that their personality going forward is influenced by the player character’s decisions.

The one thing we’ve decided about Frisk up front is that they are semi-verbal autistic. Nothing extra will be inserted; it’s just a framework we’re using because it’s a consistent guide to explain some very video-gamey behavior -- like the sparse implied dialogue, the fixation on smells, and apparent disregard for low HP. (We’re autistic ourselves and will be pulling from our experiences.)

I’m adding these under each page so that you can use these narrative frames if you want. Happy writing.

#undertale #toriel #frisk #flowey #the underground #undertale in writing #page 2

4 notes · View notes