#but at the same time when races come back i will become insufferable once again so. im in too deep already | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

priniya · 4 months

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hii can i request jameson hawthorne x fem reader who is kind of like his aunts or grandfathers intern? ans j like them w a super flirty relationship and tension. ty!!

˗ˏ` INTERNSHIP! 🎞️ ´ˎ˗

pairing. jameson hawthorne x intern!reader

summary. jameson’s life seems to get undeniably more boring than ever and alisa comes with a rescue.

author’s note. i LOVE jameson hawthorne. i felt like i needed to say that. idk if this is flirty enough but i hope u like it <3 thank u so much for the req, i love my boyfriend 🫶 not proofread! i wrote it at night so might be lots of typos or grammar mistakes 👎👎

EVERYTHING WAS BORING, college was boring, annoying grayson was boring, which truthfully made jameson feel as boring as ever. it almost felt as if his life lost its true meaning. it reached the point, where avery would poke fun at him, saying things like nana probably threw a spell on you, or look at that, jameson hawthorne has nothing to do, the world is ending, which was, well… amusing, although he couldn’t admit it.

jameson’s life was getting more and more monotonous each day and for the first time, he didn’t know what to do with it. there was no thrill, no adrenaline rushing through his veins, nothing — and as a certified middle child, he was going absolutely crazy, becoming almost insufferable. xander thought it was funny, seeing him all worked up, but not at all at the same time.

it would go on until alisa brought an intern, who — as it turned out later — was the girl he met on a trip to tuscany during his gap year. someone he had an incredible connection with, but back then, jameson didn’t want any strings attached, which… resulted in a wave of regret, because he couldn’t let himself get your name.

hawthorne could feel his throat getting dry as his eyes scanned your outfit. the light beige shirt with the top button undone, so it wouldn’t suffocate you, the pencil skirt hugging your hips and thighs, exposing your legs almost perfectly. if he was even more unhinged than he usually is, he would probably had his mouth full of foam.

what was even worse than the outfit, which made him extremely feral, was that you didn’t even flinch when alisa introduced you and your eyes fell upon him. maybe he was wrong and mistook you for the tuscany girl? maybe you were just a random girl, who looked incredibly attractive in her work attire, that looked extremely similar to other girl he met in italy? so many questions, yet so little answers.

a long sigh has left your lips, the second you ran your face with cold water. of course, your luck had to bring you to the house of the guy you spent the best month of your life with. how was that even possible? neither of you had ever believed in the ‘we’ll meet again if we’re meant to be’ type of thing. you always said that life is made by coincidences, nothing is ever planned for you beforehand and as long as you’ve the money, no one will care what you’re doing. but here you were, in his house, wearing pieces of clothing you wouldn’t wear if you knew, feeling like a crap from pulling an all nighter the night before.

jameson winchester hawthorne has looked as good as you remembered him. dark, velvet dress shirt embracing his toned stomach and muscular arms that once (or twice) were wrapped around you. though, after all this time, he still wore the rings you bought him, which made your heart race.

you genuinely thought that the racing of your heart would stop after some time, especially since the internship at mcnamara, oren and jones had you spending an excruciating amount of time in the hawthorne house with jameson always being somewhere around. he’d often find you in the hallway, hardly ever exchanging more than few words, though always making sure to brush against your skin slightly.

“you’re agitating.” you muttered, when his back leaned against the counter, while you were fixing yourself a coffee, which unlike at the company, was truly amazing. “don’t have anything better to do?”

“c’mon, yn.” he sighed almost playfully, rolling his eyes at you. “can’t even crack a smile for me?” jameson’s tone coated your mind, sending a warm wave to your cheeks. it was the most thrilling thing to him these last couple weeks. seeing you get so flustered over the smallest act gave him the same feeling like when he cliff dived.

“i’m working, jameson.” the way his name rolled off your tongue made him smile. “it’s not tuscany. i need to get stuff done.”

“you remember tuscany, huh?”

this man was driving you insane. the way he smirked at you, the way his words had such an effect on you, the way he always knew what to say to make you flustered. “you’re such an idiot.” was all you said about his last comment, rolling your eyes at him as you noticed the red lipstick stain on the white mug.

YOU COULDN’T REALLY PINPOINT THE MOMENT when the strictly–formal conversations with the hawthorne brothers and grambs sisters became so casual. you couldn’t wait for the hawthorne days as you called them, when you could leave the bureau and the paperwork to join alisa with whatever she was doing there. most of the time, xander would steal you away to ask you the stupidest questions about law enforcement and law in general just to leave you fifteen minutes later.

as much as you tried to push jameson away to not raise any suspicions of the history you had, he was irresistible. always making sure to tease you in some kind of way. unfortunately or not, you started caving in, just like he predicted.

before you know it, your thighs were met with the cold surface of the bathroom counter in some fancy restaurant, the fabric of your emerald silky dress has ridden up as jameson pushed his right hand up your thigh, the left one squeezed your waist. his lips were pressed against yours, moving with a rough, possessive manner. some would say it was the tense atmosphere building up, when he couldn’t get you where he wanted.

and in that exact day, exact moment, jameson had you right when he wanted. it was a casual hangout, just him, his brothers, libby, avery and her friend, who also happened to be soon to–be–girlfriend of his youngest brother. but to jameson’s pleasure, everyone grew so fond of you that avery suggested you should go with them.

the theme was comfort, but elegant. so, the outfit of your choice was the silky dress that was accompanied by the necklace you got back in italy. the first words that came out of jameson’s mouth was a stutter. the sight of you made him stumble over the sentence he tried to make.

“you look — so amazing.” he groaned as his lips made a trail down your neck, sending a shiver down your spine, when his teeth had bitten the sweet spot right above your collarbone. “so fucking gorgeous.” the chain of praises was never ending.

your hands got on the collar of his shirt, gripping it as he continued to leave marks on your collarbones and shoulders. as much as you enjoyed his actions, you missed the feeling of his lips on yours. you pulled him up, hungrily crashing your mouth into his.

fifteen minutes later, the red lipstick was nowhere to be found on your face. on the other hand, there were lots of it on jameson. you were still sitting on the marble counter, legs wrapped around hawthorne’s hips. his mood was definitely better as he was zipping up your dress.

“a quickie in the bathroom, when did you turn so naughty, hm?” a chuckle escaped mouth as he watched you wipe the excess of your lipstick off his chin and bottom lip. “i met this cute guy during my vacation in europe. a real charmer.” you replied with a smirk, fixing the lacy strings of the dress as you jumped off the counter.

your chest was touching his, but neither of you moved away. you were still a little breathless from the unexpected activity and to be completely honest, it wasn’t enough — just looking at his stupid, handsome face made you crave him even more. you weren’t the only one though, considering that hawthorne couldn’t take his hands off of you as he brought one to your chin, tilting it upwards to have an easy access to kiss you again.

an involuntary grin hovered over your lips as his fingers brushed your cheek in a tender manner, before fixing his messy hair and leaving the bathroom. he closed the door just to open it again to wink at you and leave to get back to his siblings.

YOU COULD TELL that everyone already knew about the tiny thing going on between you and jameson. nevertheless, pretending like it wasn’t true was easier than admitting it. as long as alisa wasn’t asking any questions or forbidding you from showing up to the hawthorne house, you didn’t really care.

it was early, maybe even too early for your liking, when the alarm in your phone went off, earning a hoarse, incoherent groan from jameson, whose arm only tightened around your naked body. the only things covering you from flashing someone accidentally were the white sheets that kept you warm at night.

“turn it off.” another groan escaped his throat. he knew what this meant, it was five o’clock and you had to get to your dorm to get ready for the bureaucratic nightmare, as he liked to call it, at the law firm, which always handled all his familial issues. “gorgeous, there are lots of your stuff here, just go back to sleep. you can get ready here.”

“i can’t.” you replied, planting a few sweet kisses on his bare shoulder. “everyone will know i was here if i left later.” you added, your voice soft. your fingernails gently scratching the back of his neck.

“you act like they don’t know already.” you could swear he just laughed, his sleepy demeanour made him even more attractice at this point. “sorry to break it to you, gorg, but once you start, you forget all about quietness.” ironically, this shut you up immediately, red already spreading all over your cheeks.

“you know what’s funny?” a question rolled off his tongue, catching your interest, even though you couldn’t quite make out his words as his face was buried in the white pillow. “xander texted me to ask you to moan a few decibels less.”

“oh god, i am never leaving this room again.” you said embarrassed, hiding your face in hawthorne’s arm.

“i like that idea.” he laughed, pulling you even closer, shifting a little to shut your phone off completely. “make it my early christmas gift.”

#jameson hawthorne x reader #jameson hawthorne #jameson hawthorne x avery grambs #the inheritance games #the hawthorne legacy #the hawthorne brothers #the final gambit #the grandest game #jameson hawthorne fic #niki’s works 🫂#request 🗣️#grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson hawthorne #avery kylie grambs #avery grambs #averyjameson #a very risky gamble #averygrayson

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embrassemoi · 3 years

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Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 23

Pairings: Sirius B, Remus L, [F]Reader CW: Drinking, slight internalized homophobia A/N: The first part dives into Lily's sexuality. It’s pretty innocent but may make readers uncomfortable. If you want to skip, go past the line break and I bolded the words ‘Round round get around’ for when it’s ‘safe’ to continue!

Chap 23 Playlist

【 Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter 】

Chapter 23: The Daily Quarrel

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Lily always considered herself to be calm, rational and level-headed, that’s what made her a great prefect and student. But over the last five months, Lily felt herself becoming everything but that.

Lily never concerned herself with dating. Of course, she’d entertained the thought. She had crushes before, many crushes, and dabbled in the idea of romance, love, dates and commitment. Especially now as it seemed like the older she got, those around her fell into relationships and quick snogs in the broom closet that she was forced to break up one too many times. If she were to date, she didn’t want to force it. Lily wanted it to come naturally. It was never that important. If it happened, it happened, and she would welcome it with open arms.

But recently, it was all she could think about.

At first, it was a passing thought. Boys — dating — and then other things she thought she buried deep down began to resurface.

Girls, by every definition, were beautiful. Lily would admire the way they style their hair or religious headwear, how they carried themselves with such effortless grace that they never seemed to notice themselves. Girls, women; Lily thought they were thoughtful, kind and more respectful than men. She felt loads more comfortable around them before her thoughts began to turn more obscure — until her mind quickly shut it down and interjected that she just wanted to be close friends.

That was an utter lie.

It’s not like Lily didn’t feel any sort of attraction towards boys. She did, very much and had feelings both romantic and well… er — unleashed a plethora of other feelings. Lily was not opposed to holding hands, kissing or cuddling them, she really liked the idea and felt herself grow warm. She would do all sorts of things with the right boy. But there was something so exciting, yet frightening when the idea of hand-holding, kissing and cuddling with Y/N. That certainly left Lily with sweaty palms, heart racing and a flustered mess.

Whenever she held her hands, went around holding her arm in the halls, or crept into each other’s beds at night, Lily felt like a puddle of nerves.

She’s managed to force a smile most of the time whenever improper thoughts surfaced. She could be alone, walking the hallways for her prefect duties and something would pop up: when her fingers ran through Lily’s scalp when she brushed her hair. Her smile. Her eyes… her damn eyes… All she thought about these days was her. How was Y/N doing? She’s so funny! Would she like the way she styled her robes today? How would she look on top of — ARGH! Lily was mortified half the time.

Let’s just say that it was a gradual realization.

Lily wasn’t stupid, far from it and knew what was happening and it left her on complete edge, especially around Y/N. It left her face scarlet red and felt as if her chest was about to burst into a bloody mess. She couldn’t even look or be anywhere near her sometimes because it was too overwhelming.

But her feelings… Lily grew up being taught that she wasn’t supposed to feel this way for another girl, let alone both boys and girls...

Her heart, mind, morals, feelings, everything she believed in was at war. Lily felt herself change inside and out. It’s always been there, those… emotions — and suddenly it just ripped at the seams. Y/N was just the tipping point.

But why did it feel like such a crime for something so innocent? Something that is supposed to be beautiful?

And Y/N… out of all people!

It had been a very tiring and stressful school year so far.

Potter’s birthday had coincided with Gryffindor’s win against Hufflepuff and thus, a joint party was thrown. Lily watched from the sidelines as Y/N’s back faced her. The glowing of lights, all charmed red, immersed her as she snapped an abundance of photos of a very plastered Potter having the time of his life. He stood on a table, drunkenly singing.

Another bright flash went off and she brought the camera down, took the photo and shook it. A wide smile plastered on her face as she watched the photo develop and her body shook with laughter. But as if Y/N knew Lily was staring, her head swivelled around with a smile so blinding that it hurt Lily’s heart; now filled with hot shame again.

She shouted over the loud music. “Petals! C’mon, let loose for once!” She pointed to the cup in hand.

Lily looked down, looking at the amber liquid filled to the brim of her cup, untouched. Her gaze looked back, giving her a shy thumbs-up and brought the cup to her lips. The bitter taste of Firewhiskey burned before spreading warmly through her. But, Y/N’s reaction was worth it.

Lily tried to still her heart as she ripped her gaze away. Y/N made her feel everything but calm, rational and level-headed. It was terrifying.

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‘Round round get around, I get around, yeah

(Get around round round I get around, ooh-ooh) I get around’

“Hip-hip —” James bellowed, raising a glass filled with Firewhiskey in the air.

“HOORAY!” The Gryffindors roared back.

“Hip-hip —”

Throughout the night, Sirius danced with probably every girl there before he went to turn the record player louder, re-filling his glass. He watched as James hopped off the table and made his way to Emmeline, peppering her skin with sloppy kisses that made her laugh and eyes crinkle.

They all officially met her that night. She’s sweet, kind and they found out she’s just as crazy as James in the love department and they seemed beyond happy.

Peter was there, who looked at the two, almost enviously, faced stained red before solemnly bobbing his head to the music. Sirius didn’t think much of it, instead just passed it off as a sad drunk.

‘I'm gettin' bugged driving up and down the same old strip

I gotta find a new place where the kids are hip’

Sirius cringed; he was never a fan of the Beach Boys but Wormtail and Prongs loved it…

Students jumped, rocking to the blasting music. Some talked, some were snogging, others tipsy or drunk. Sirius grinned from ear to ears as he looked around the room, searching for Remus. He was already a pole light, he would stick out like a sore thumb. But instead of Remus, Sirius’ eyes settled on L/N; film in hand, talking to another student. He was blond, a year above them, large in stature and Sirius recognized him from the Gryffindor tryouts back in September. Aldrich McLaggen.

His face was beat red as he chatted with L/N, his hand toying with the sleeves as he looked her up and down, wearing a flirtatious yet apprehensive grin. The bastard was flirting with her.

Sirius felt himself grip his glass tighter than normal, his free hand bunched into a tight ball while pressing firmly to his side. Neither she nor Sirius spoke, aside from their Puffskein assignment and it was killing him. From the discomfort or wishing they had kissed that night — he didn’t know. But it was tortuously awkward.

“Padfoot,” came a voice. Remus leant against a nearby table as he sipped his drink. No matter how much he seemed to drink, Remus was able to knock back drinks after drinks without it affecting him. Sirius envied that but then the thought passed, eyes settling on L/N.

“Moomy.”

Remus followed Sirius’ eyes, scrutinizing the situation.

“She’s so annoying,” said Sirius. He didn’t even mean to speak, it just slipped out.

Remus’ brow rose. “Talking about this, again? She’s not. L/N’s my friend and I like her.”

Sirius shook his head. “She’s insufferable. Who does she think she is?!”

“... Who?”

“Just look at her!” Sirius exclaimed, using large hand movements. “She acts like she owns the place. Just because she’s new she assumes she’s better than everyone else! And —” Sirius continued to rant but Remus blocked him out, head shaking.

Fucking idoit, Remus thinks. He wants to slap Sirius silly. When will he stop talking about her?

“— taking all of my friends: Prongs, Lily, Marlene, Wormy, you! I was —”

“You sound like a child.”

“— so smart. The Slugclub? All filled with stuffy pricks — except you and Lily — the kicker, I’ve seen her with Regulus! A Slytherin! Come on. That’s just asking for —”

“Padfoot —”

“— don’t understand how —”

“Crikey! Sirius!” Remus scolded. Sirius went quiet, intimidated by him. Remus took a deep inhale, his eyes fluttering shut but asked, “Why do you hate her? Is it because of that fucking rejection because —”

“What?!” Sirius’s voice cuts, loud and booming to the point where several heads swirled to look at him.

Remus looked at them, making hand movements to shoo them off. “Mind your business.”

“Moony, you know me! Come on! Sure, I’m a dick, but I’m not that much of a dick!”

“Then what is it? It can’t just be that she’s annoying.” Of course, Remus was right again. Always so blunt and never failed to be clear-cut.

Remus then tipped back his drink in one go without a flinch and left Sirius’ side. He’d much rather do his prefect duties than listen to him go on about the same conversation for what seemed like the eighth time that week. With Sirius left to sulk, he sighed and looked back to the scene, feeling irrational jealousy bubble up.

L/N laughed at whatever McLaggen said, who leant into her ear. What an obvious bloke.

Maybe it was because of the mix of alcohol that made Sirius place his cup down and stride up to them, but even he knew it wasn’t just the Firewhiskey.

“I’ve always wanted to visit. How was it like living —”

“McLaggen.” Sirius’ voice came out gruff and cold.

Both their heads turned towards him and she sent him a look, telling him to go. But too stubborn, he stayed put.

“Um… Black. Hello,” McLaggen responded. Sirius continued to stand tall, body language closed off, telling him silently to leave.

Tosser. Pillock. Daft bimbo lookin’ arse —

The boy coughed awkwardly and threw L/N a tight-lipped smile. “See you!” She nodded her head, giving a small, friendly wave. “Bye!”

Sirius took his place instantly. “Finally, you said something right for once. He’s a git.”

L/N’s face scrunched up in confusion. She sent daggers his way and he had to stop himself from smirking. “Surprise,” he drawled, hands going up to shake in jazz hands. “You seem happy to see me.”

“Why are you talking to me? People might think we’re friends.”

“Like we were ever just friends.”

Her mouth hung open after registering what he said and Sirius felt like using an unforgivable curse on himself. Did he have to bring it up like that?

Sirius was all over the place with his thoughts. Point blank, he didn’t know what the fuck was happening. He so badly wanted to draw near, to touch her and hear that damn laughter, but did he?

His… very unwelcomed feelings — whatever they were, were beginning to get in the way of his already messy life. Was it the chase that made him feel so electric, the need to dive into someone else to cover up his own problems? Was this him dabbling in his unhealthy behaviours and would this just set him back? Sirius wasn’t sure and he walked a fine line.

Humans, especially those like Sirius, are social beings. Like most people, they craved recognition, approval and constant reassurance from those around them. People want to fit in that desired image but struggle to find happiness — lost in that perceived image they chase. Desired reality… it’s like a mirage. The constant back and forth only drained him and it had been more apparent than ever since the break. That pretty packaged Sirius — was that him subconsciously crawling its way out, making him lose the little progress he’s made by continuing whatever this was? A game, his true feelings or a way to be social, to fill that void settled deep within his chest?

But he doesn’t think so, and that freaked him out even more. What scared him was that he wanted to get to know all the little parts of her, no matter how much he tried to deny it. It felt like a mantra playing in his head, questions about her he wanted answered. But he could never be sure.

L/N remained silent and he cut in, trying to cover up his internal dilemma.

“Now look who’s the quiet one.”

“Be more conceited, will you?”

“Insolent brat.”

She grinds her jaw aggressively, to the point where he swears he can hear bones crunching but she holds back from a snarky comment. His mouth opens, ready to add on before L/N turns around to survey the room. He watches as she looks up to James and back to him and then a small, separate room that’s cut off from the main room. The last thing either wanted was to ruin James’ night or cause a scene. “Follow me.”

Sirius rolls his eyes, teasingly staying back a beat before another Gryffindor girl comes up to him. He’d danced with her earlier. “Pretty boy,” she greets, “Fancy another dance?”

Sirius’ eyes travel to L/N who’s eyes hardened as she stomped back up to him. “Sorry, but pretty boy” her voice dripping in obvious sarcasm, “Has somewhere to be.” Then, she tugged on the hem of his sweater and the action had Sirius’s heart flutter. He let her lead him through the crowd, nearing the room.

“Pretty boy? So you do think I’m pretty?” He smirked, watching her duck her head to prevent him from seeing her reaction.

Out of the entire student body he could’ve had feelings for — feelings he’s never felt before that caused him to go speechless, heart speeding and the urge to inch closer — it had to be her? She never knew how to take a joke either! How James and Remus were so fond of her, he didn’t know.

She shoved him into the small room, casting Muffliato. It was ill-lit, the only source of luminosity were the red lights seeping in the cracks of the door and the small window; twinkling stars shining just enough. The mixture of lights made her look alluring.

“What do you want?” Her voice is passive-aggressive.

You, he reckons. Or maybe a permanent silencing charm to never have to hear her speak again. Either seemed great.

Her eyes rolled, impatient as he remained silent. “Could you be anymore… confusing? You’re hot and cold! First, you’re nice to me, then mean. Then come up to me, ruin my conversation with Aldrich and now you’re silent.”

“Fine. I don’t want to be here with you, happy?”

“Like you didn’t start this.”

“It’s not my fault you’re infuriating, constantly running your mouth.”

She takes a deep breath, her hands rubbing her face and let’s out a frustrated groan. Her eyes snap back open, “I hate you.” The silence was loud.

Sirius felt himself freeze, eyes turning half-lidded as he took a few steps towards her. She backed up, sliver of a smile there. His chest rose, breathing deeply, “Say that again.”

L/N looked up at him with those eyes he swore looked right through him. Simply being that close made him feel as if he ran a marathon. Then, a wicked, yet timid grin worms its way on her face. Their soft breaths were tense, like if either were too loud, everything would come crashing down.

She repeats. “I hate —”

She doesn’t finish her statement as Sirius pressed himself against her, pushing her back but snakes a hand to prevent her head from hitting the jagged wall.

His voice was low. “Are you sure you want to say that again?”

Her breath hitches. He grins. She swallows. “I. Hate. Y—”

Each syllable was hushed as Sirius pressed his lips onto hers, gentle, sweet and hesitant, contradicting compared to their banter.

When the initial shock wore off, he felt Y/N respond to the kiss, deepening it. Her lips parted and Sirius slid his tongue inside. She was a bit clumsy, hesitant but eager. Sirius smirked at her. Everything felt startling, incredible and better than what Sirius imagined it to ever be like. He felt like a firecracker, a warm feeling spreading through his veins like fire.

She’s soft, incredibly so. His free hand went to roam around before settling on the base of her back, stroking the soft skin up and down. Her hand is threaded through his hair just hard enough that he has to bite back a groan. Her other hand is pressed firmly onto his chest and god — she feels so good.

To Y/N, Sirius tastes like what you think he would taste like. He tastes expensive, smells really good and his kisses are a lot softer than she expected — the very opposite of him: energetic, rough, messy and wild. Instead it’s delicate, sweet and velvety.

She’s the first to pull back and Sirius can’t help but move his head to try and catch her lips but settles on pressing his forehead against hers.

Their soft pants fill the air and Sirius feels like screaming. His skin is boiling and she looks beyond enthralling. Their eyes locked and her eyes washed over him with such an intensity that it could rival any ocean wave.

Neither spoke, just trying to process what happened, letting their eyes run wild before she tucks a fallen strand of hair behind Sirius’ ear. The action, so small and fairly insignificant, made something so bubbly flare in his chest.

Both of their pupils are blown wide and this time, she’s the one to lean in first; with a series of soft peaks before Sirius prolongs it. Both his hands are now on her face, tilting her head up before one goes to graze her neck.

There wasn’t a sinking or horrible feeling in his chest that made him feel used or worthless and he took that as a good sign to continue.

This time, it’s faster, rough and passionate and Sirius leads, his hips pressed against her, caging her against the wall. Her hand then went to embrace Sirius, her nails scratching down his back and he involuntarily slipped out a soft groan into her lips.

Merlin… she’s more intoxicating than any brand of alcohol he’s ever drunk.

Eventually, they simultaneously pulled away, using whatever sense they had left and Sirius was left feeling high and shaky. Y/N looked away first, Sirius continuing to stare wide-eyed.

“Um — w-we should — ugh — get going —”

“— Right, I was just about to…”

Sirius backed up, letting Y/N free as she went to sit on a nearby chair. Sirius ran a hand through his hair and stumbled back into the party. He exhaled deeply, fingers outlining his lips in shock.

He must be mad — blood fucking mad! They’re both equally mad!

God, he must be blushing like a damn fool and certainly, he’s not going to be able to sleep tonight. Blimey…

Once James saw him, he pointed and made a B-line, strutting over, his hips exaggerating until he swung an arm around him.

“Siriusss! You’re my best friend!” James ruffled his hair, “Did you know that? Merlin — you light up my world.”

Sirius felt himself smile, but he’s still not fully there. His mind thinks back to her touch: soft and fleeting and god does he crave more and — what is she thinking?

“In love with me? You’re going to have to get in line.”

“Love with all m’friends… Moony… Wormtail — Whiskersss.” James slurred his words slightly and went on a tangent but Sirius’ eye remained on the door, waiting for her to come back.

She’s taking an awfully long time. Fuck, did he push it?

“Mate — earth to Padfoot?” James says, this time knocking his fist on his head like a door. “SIRIUS! Yoo-hoo! In there?”

“Yeah — sorry. A lot’s on my mind.”

James studied him, looking a lot more sober than he did just seconds ago as he went to fix his glasses and said seriously, “Is it… the nightmares again? We can go and talk about it?”

This caught his attention. Ever since Valentine's, he’s been talking to James about them — or at least mentioning bits and pieces which helped a lot more than he expected. “What? No, no it’s not that.”

“But if it is, you’ll tell me, right?”

Sirius has to stop himself from snorting, but it’s all too endearing. “Of course — I’ve only gotten them two times this week.”

Prongs grins like a mad man, throwing his fist in the air. “That’s one down! Amazing! You are amazing.”

And then he hears the door click open and it’s her. She sent him a small smile, barely there but Sirius felt his heart swell. Marlene bounced up to her, pulling her into a dance along with Mary. He watched as her head tipped back with a smile so dazzling and he felt his skin turn fuzzy again.

She got under his skin like nobody else and he’s starting to love it.

102 notes · View notes

clefairymuke · 3 years

Text

regrets | chapter fifteen

prev. chapter | next chapter

pairing: levi ackerman x reader

themes: enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut

tw: violence / explicit sexual content

word count: 1663

Monotonous.

That was the best word you could come up with to describe the past week. The days lulled on without change as you unfortunately pined after Levi, who still seemed to pay you no mind -- but today would be different. You had formed a hypothesis. It was lofty, optimistic guesswork with no actual backing, but it was a hypothesis nonetheless. If you placed the right kind of pressure on Levi, then he would admit exactly what you wanted to hear. Your sadness about the situation, as melancholy typically does, had turned to spiteful anger; you needed to prove him wrong. Even if it amounted to nothing, even if you were left with sadness yet again.

"You want me to what?" Jean asked you in a whisper, face drawn up in disgust. You laughed at him before retraining your eyes on the back of Levi's head. His hair had been cut recently. It looked nice.

"Come on, Jean. It won't be that bad. It's just for a few days at most. I'll hate it just as much as you will. It's a game," you replied just as quietly. Despite his protests, you knew it wouldn't take too much convincing. He cared about you too much to tell you no. You gave him your most sincere puppy-dog eyes, watching the disgust on his face morph to a mix of disappointment and amusement. Score.

"I'll do it," he conceded, laying his forehead in his palm. You knew it wouldn't take much effort. Your plan, albeit a little childish, was what you had deemed a sure-fire experiment to test your hypothesis. Hange would be proud.

Levi, as careless as he may seem, irrefutably had anger as his foremost emotion. He was quick to it, and he wore it well. With such constant anger came many things: a gentle side well-contrasted by the rough exterior that ruled others' perception -- proven true; a likely mix of mood swings and impulsivity -- also relatively evident; and, most importantly, a tendency toward jealousy -- completely unproven but heavily suspected. You relied on that suspicion to make sense of the mixed signals he had given you.

You'd been considering it for days; after a while, you grew weary of being ignored. It beat down on you like a rain shower, leaving you to helplessly question the meanings of fleeting moments within the confines of the infirmary. Being unsure was decidedly the worst part. An explicit yes-or-no answer was annoyingly required to calm your racing mind -- accepting his words at face value was impossible.

You followed the outline of his jaw with your eyes as he spoke to Hange, who was sitting at his side. He always looked so well put together. You fantasized about his hair in disarray and his clothes hanging loose -- how he looked on the morning after the night you spent together. You had long grown past embarrassment; every self-pitying thought soon became validating as the nights in the infirmary consolidated into your definition of Levi. You were sure, entirely, that this newfound attitude towards you was all for show. Otherwise, how could someone so callous become so gentle?

His collected gaze was aimed anywhere that wasn't at you. Jean's stories of certain stolen glances when you weren't looking were enough to assure you that he wasn't as unbothered as he seemed. Sometimes you wished you could catch his eye just to send him a soft smile -- to remind him that the two of you weren't just unreasonably disliked acquaintances. You were almost tired of being mad at him; unfortunately for him, however, you were quick to anger, too.

When you were dismissed to training, you weren't slow to get up. You tossed your tray atop the stack of others and made your way out the door, other scouts surrounding you to form a crowd. Jean put his arm around you when you found yourself outside the door; but, instead of swinging it casually around your shoulders, he slid it snugly around your waist. You watched as he shook his head, eyes rolling so hard you were sure they'd come out of their sockets.

When you looked back, you swore for a moment that you met a pair of narrowed grey eyes.

---

The training exercise was your least favorite of them all: the insufferable wooden-titan practice you'd done a month or so before. You fell in line with the rest of your comrades, your gaze traveling to Levi's stance atop a tree branch. He was leading this exercise, and although it was better for your experiment, it was hard to ignore how hard he had been on you. Slack didn't seem to be in his vocabulary. You wanted to do well.

You all lied in wait for his go-ahead, your hands positioned over the triggers on your gear. It would be your first time using ODM again; luckily, legs weren't really necessary. You looked forward at the back of Bertholdt's head, knowing Jean stood a few feet behind you. Last time you finished -- third? Maybe second? You were confident you could do it again.

You saw Levi travel towards the middle of the group of trees for a better view. "Alright," he called, several yards away. "Go."

It only took a few seconds to realize you were rusty when you fell to the middle of the group. Jean had already passed you, along with Connie and Sasha. Nearly a month out of training had done more damage than you thought. You fought to stay ahead of the curve, your eyes failing you to glance at Levi's disappointed face. You made eye contact for a split second, your chest swelling against your will. A lift of his eyebrow forced your line of sight forward as you narrowly missed a tree branch. He scoffed, loud enough for you to hear him. How embarrassing.

Whether by luck or underestimation, you were surprised that several scouts remained in the exercise when you landed. Levi had moved towards the edge of the trees now, so you could still see him from your place in the grass. You wondered if he knew, and if he had glanced your way, too. Your plan relied on the fact that he had and would again.

You waltzed to where Jean stood, away from the others and sipping from his canteen. You slid your hand into his, fingers interlocking as he gagged playfully. "Your hands are sweaty," he said, discomfort clear in his tone.

You laughed, squeezing his hand. "Yours just feel greasy. Have you washed them recently?" The two of you continued joking back and forth as your eyes darted over your shoulder at Levi. You told yourself that acting as if you didn't even notice him would be the best way to go; it was difficult, though. You wanted to gauge every reaction as clearly as you could -- that's how experiments work, right?

You caught him staring for the very first time. When you met his eyes, his gaze did not falter. He simply lowered one eyebrow inconspicuously. You looked away as quickly as you could to hide the triumphant grin spreading across your face; he had seen, and he didn't look happy. The experiment, though, was not yet complete. You wanted more.

As the last few scouts landed, you and Jean took a seat, hands still interlocked in the clammiest, most uncomfortable form of physical affection you had experienced to date. To make matters worse, you decided to lay your head snugly in the slope from his neck to his shoulder. Of course, you and Jean were not strangers to physical affection, as most close friends weren't. Nonetheless, the connotation behind the prolonged hand-holding and casually romantic cuddling was uncomfortable at best. You were lucky he couldn't tell you no. Another strike of luck was that everyone was used to seeing the two of you close and comfortable, and it would be difficult to anyone not intently watching to notice a difference; were there any downsides to having a male best friend?

"Is he looking?" you whispered nudging Jean with your shoulder.

"I don't know," he whispered back, "I'm facing the same way as you."

You snorted. "No shit. Just look around. Don't make it obvious."

You felt his head turning, looking both ways out at the scouts that surrounded you. "Okay, yeah. He's looking. He didn't even look away when he saw me. He looks pissed."

You smiled. Your hypothesis was not far from being proven true; you just needed another push. "You're not going to want to do this," you told Jean, trying to hide the mischievous grin overtaking your face.

"I'm not doing it. No way."

"Jean, please!"

"Nope. Not happening."

"It'll only last a second," you said in the most convincing tone you could muster.

"This is a stupid plan," he answered, a sigh of concession building in his lungs. You had won, yet again.

"Just kiss me. Fuck, it's only once."

And so he did. He tasted like the disgusting soup you had eaten for lunch. It lasted only a couple of seconds, but you were subject to the time-slowing force that only came from ecstasy and torture. This time, it was the torture kind. When he pulled away, you forced a grin for show. Through your teeth, you said, "I think that was the worst thing that's ever happened to me. Ever."

He laughed, squeezing your hand. "It couldn't have been worse than what just happened to me. Remind me to wash out my mouth with soap later." You looked over your shoulder to see Levi still staring, his jaw set in anger. What could be more satisfying?

When you were all dismissed from the exercise, you were sure to walk slowly as you and Jean swung your conjoined hands back and forth. Surely real couples don't hold hands this long, you thought; this much sweat can't be comfortable. Before you saw him, you heard Levi's voice at your side.

"Get cleaned up and get to my office. I need a word with you."

Had it really been this easy the whole time?

#AoT #levi aot #aot fic #attack on titan #levi attack on titan #attack on titan fic #levi x reader #levi smut #levi angst #levi fluff #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #snk #snk fic #snk x reader #shingeki no kyojin #slowburn #enemies to lovers #levi

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nctsjiho · 3 years

Text

2 PM Suffering

Click here for Part 2 (there’s also a link at the bottom of the post)

warnings: consumption of alcohol and medication(aspirin), anxiety, stress, insomnia. I do not condone mixing alcohol with medication, it can be very harmful to the body. This story is purely for entertainment only. It’s not super angsty but I do want to warn you in case any of the aforementioned warnings can be triggering to you.

era: April 2021

❀ While the rest of NCT 127 is gone to shoot a schedule JiHo suffers alone in her dorm room, but Xiaojun comes to her rescue

It had been a few weeks since JiHo got withheld from NCT schedules until they could handle all the contractual issues. The initial meeting with the higher-ups in SM had really taken a toll on her mental health. The thought of maybe not being able to return to NCT and maybe even being dropped by SM was something she didn’t want to think about.

JiHo had been in so many meetings with SM, she couldn’t talk about it with the boys, all she could do was watch them continue on as NCT while she was hidden away from the public.

All that stress had caused her to have severe headaches almost daily at this point. She was awake until early in the morning, not being able to sleep, and then falling asleep due to pure exhaustion. And when she woke up only 2 hours after she had fallen asleep the cycle continued. Meeting, individual practise, meeting, yet another meeting, again individual practise, going home, sleep (or at least trying to).

It was currently 2 in the afternoon. She was home alone as all the boys were shooting some kind of top model series for the NCT 127 YouTube channel. Even though today was a day free of meetings for JiHo, she couldn’t help but still feel stressed and anxious. She hadn’t slept for at least 32 hours and the fact that she still couldn’t sleep was stressing her out even more.

She was sat on the floor of her room, relocated after her spot in her bed had became insufferably hot. She reached for the bottle of juice situated on her nightstand. She had bought it 2 days ago at the convenience store on her way back home. At the time she didn’t realise it was alcoholic, but after she had 2 glasses and she felt a comforting buzz in her chest, she knew it wasn’t just regular juice.

When she finished said second glass about an hour ago, she realised how it for some reason calmed her anxiety the tiniest bit. But the tiniest bit felt like such a relief. The lingering headache was the only thing - that’s what she made herself belief at least - that was keeping her from falling asleep.

Unfocused eyes watched how the small white container rolled in her hand. JiHo didn’t belief in medication. Pain relievers, cough syrups, even to anti-depressants, they only worked if you believed they would work. That was her opinion on that, yet at this point she had become so desperate having not slept for such a long period of time. “Just one won’t be that bad right? If they don’t work, then they don’t work.” She tried to convinced herself.

Three whole pills later and another glass of her ‘juice’ and JiHo had grown only more desperate. The headache had subsided for only a few minutes, so when it came back thrice as bad her anxiety had gone through the roof. She threw her head back in agony as her body shook violently.

“JiHo?” A shout came from the front door after it opened. “Taeyong hyung asked Kun ge to come check on you, but he couldn’t so I’m here with food and-” As soon as Xiaojun opened the door of JiHo’s room and saw the state the girl was in, he dropped the food he was holding and rushed over to JiHo. “What’s wrong? JiHo? Talk to me, what happened?”

JiHo’s face was flushed completely red, he hands balled up in fists tangled with her hair and her body was noticeably shaking. Thankfully he hadn’t come in 10 minutes earlier when she was a lot worse, JiHo thought.

Not receiving an answer Xiaojun’s eyes desperately searched the room for JiHo’s phone. Maybe he could reach one of the members, since his phone died just a few minutes before he had gotten to her dorm - he was relieved that he had memorised the passcode to the dorm’s door before it died, what would have happened if he couldn’t go in?

But as Xiaojun’s eyes looked around, his gaze fell on the juice bottle. He had recognised it as something Winwin once brought home to try it with the boys. “Isn’t that alcohol? But you don’t drink...” He could vividly remember JiHo say she didn’t like the taste of most alcohol, but more than that she just chose not to drink as it was something she didn’t feel like doing.

Xiaojun didn’t expect an answer so when it didn’t come he wasn’t surprised. “You drank a lot.” He picked up the bottle to see there was only enough left for half a glass. “JiHo-” “I bought it by mistake. But it’s helping my anxiety.” Xiaojun sighed at the words. He knew vaguely what was going on, but he never knew she was suffering from anxiety because of it. More so, he was sure none of the boys knew, because they wouldn’t have left JiHo alone like this if that was the case. He was aware of how overprotective the boys could be. Doyoung would’ve sent her to stay with WayV or Dream if he knew about this. So clearly he didn’t know.

“You shouldn’t drink like this though-” “What else am I supposed to do. I can barely sleep these days.” It was like she was straining her vocal cords just to speak. It sounded painful and the cough which followed only made it worse. “And these don’t help either.” JiHo mustered up all her strength to lift the almost weightless bottle of aspirin. Xiaojun’s eyes widened and his ja dropped at the sight. “You’ve been drinking and taking medication? You know you shouldn’t be mixing-” “I know. I’ve stopped taking them now, they only make my headache worse.”

The words couldn’t leave his mouth as the words dawned on him. She had stopped taking them. So she had taken more than one? And she had been drinking alcohol. “We might need to go to the hospital-” “No!” JiHo’s sudden grip on Xiaojun’s wrist startled him greatly. Her grip only getting tighter as she leaned in and that’s when Xiaojun finally took in her appearance.

He cheeks were flushed as well as her ears. Her lips were a bit swollen and her eyes bloodshot. The other hand that wasn’t stopping blood circulation towards Xiaojun’s hand was trembling in her lap. “I don’t need to go to the hospital.” She carefully enunciated every word, the look in her eyes almost terrifying the boy. “But let’s at least call Doyoung hyung-” There was no need for JiHo to interject with words to stop him from talking. Her shaking her head aggressively already did the job. “Okay, we won’t call anyone.” He whispered.

Xiaojun watched JiHo as she retracted her hand and brought her knees to her chest, face now hidden behind her hands.

Useless was the best way to describe how Xiaojun was feeling right now. He could only watch as someone, he had learned to care about over the past year and a half, suffer alone. He wished he could take away her pain, that he could make her fall asleep, that he could take away the thoughts that were keeping her awake and were stressing her out. But he couldn’t do anything.

“I brought food.” “I don’t think I can eat. I’ll throw up.”

“Do you want me to bring you some water?” “I already have some on my nightstand.”

“Should I bring you some tea?” “No thank you.”

“What can I do to help?” “Nothing.”

“Should I sing you a song?” “...”

Xiaojun fully expected to get his question shot down again. All his tries in the past 20 minutes were all unsuccessful. But when there was silence from the girl, a little spark of hope filled his heart. There was no “no” coming from her lips. And though he had loved an actual answer, the silence was the best response he had gotten so far.

It stayed quiet for another minute before Xiaojun stood up. He squatted down again to hook one of his arms under JiHo’s legs, and the other supported her back. He lifted the smaller girl up effortlessly and than eased her down onto her bed. He tucked her in with one of her thinner, but not the thinnest, blankets knowing she said she was feeling hot before and then settled down next to her bed.

His head was close to hers. JiHo’s eyes staring directly into his, which almost had him flustered but the situation helped keep his cool. He brought a hand to her hair and tucked it behind her ear as he kept stroking her head. “Close your eyes hmm?” She did as she was told and in a matter of seconds the soft voice of Xiaojun reached her ears.

The song he was singing wasn’t one she was familiar with, but JiHo didn’t care. Xiaojun’s angelic voice seemed to calm down her racing thoughts. Her body visibly relaxed which made the boy smile. His hand continued to stroke the side of JiHo’s head, the sight of her features softening, making his heart melt. Once he finished the song JiHo’s eyes fluttered opened slowly.

It was somewhat disappointing that his singing hadn’t succeeded in making her fall asleep. “Can you stay here for a while?” Xiaojun nodded his head without a second thought causing JiHo to give him a small smile and thank him.

Getting ready to sing another song, Xiaojun halted when JiHo shifted in her bed. She moved away from him before patting the spot next to her. It was an invitation for him to lay next to her. He hesitated for a second, not sure if it was actually okay for him to lay down in the same bed as her. Maybe it was the alcohol lingering in JiHo’s system, but when JiHo patted the spot again he climbed in anyway.

Eyes fixed on the ceiling as the words to ‘For Life’ by EXO left Xiaojun’s lips. He didn’t see, but could sense the girl next to him drifting to sleep. Her breath calmed significantly until she was breathing in a slow steady rhythm. The boy smiled, happy that he ended up being able to help her in some way. But he made a mental note to let Taeyong or Doyoung know about what happened earlier, along with telling them she was suffering from anxiety and insomnia, hoping that maybe the members closer to her were able to keep an eye on her and help her out.

---

Part 2

Side note: Again, I just want to put out there that you should NEVER mix alcohol with medication, please please don’t do it. I don’t condone such a thing, this story is purely fictional, I’m not a doctor so I don’t know in which doses alcohol and aspirin can be harmful to the body, but in general DO NOT mix alcohol with medication. Medication should only be taken as prescribed or as instructed by doctors or the manual (?) that comes with the medication.

#jiho.writings #nct 24th member #nct addition #nct scenarios #nct imagines #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #nct angst #wayv angst #xiaojun imagines #xiaojun scenarios #xiaojun angst #xiaojun fluff #nct female member #nct extra member #nct additional member #kpop!addition #kpop!oc

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joezworld · 3 years

Note

📁

Specifically, any headcanons of the Sodor Engines interacting with the internet, or the internet in general?

For some reason, I’d imagine that podcasts and the like are popular among vehicles in general.

That is a question that I've been working on for some time - because I'm workshopping my own Tornado headcanon (and boy oh boy does she use the internet a lot) - but I have some ideas for the Sodor engines as well:

Henry is probably the most "plugged in" engine on the island, weirdly enough. One of his drivers gave him an iPod back in the early 2000s, and kindly preloaded it with a bunch of torrented music.

BTW, that works because all the engines are now equipped with automatic train warning systems, and the little on-board computer has a USB port - as a nice side effect it allows music players to work with the engines in the same way as bone-conducting headphones do. The computer also acts as some kind of computer interface, which I am not going to explain how that works because Jesus Christ I don’t know how it does either.

Henry has managed to upgrade his iPod a few times since thanks to hand-me-down units from NWR staff, so he eventually got his buffers on a wifi-enabled iPod Touch and now downloads new music from the station wifi. He does listen to podcasts, but as every other engine will tell you, you could show Henry ten thousand new and exciting songs from the best artists in the world, and his top ten played songs are still going to be Genesis, Phil Collins, and Yes. Bear considers it a win that he managed to convince Henry to regularly listen to Rush after a mere twenty years of convincing.

Mavis and Daisy listen to a very interesting program called The News, because as stated elsewhere, they invest a shitload of money and need to be on top of things. Thomas and Percy wish that Daisy would use headphones or something similar to that, instead of listening to Bloomberg TV at loud volumes in the middle of the night. Toby frankly doesn’t mind, as it’s very nice to be kept up-to-date on the outside world.

In a move that surprises no-one, Bill and Ben have a podcast where they talk about whatever they think about at that moment - usually horse-racing, investing, and clay mining. As such, they have a wide audience, almost none of whom know that they’re that Bill and Ben, as their podcast is audio-only.

In an also unsurprising move, Edward and BoCo have been made very much aware that Bill and Ben have a podcast, but are still unsure as to what the hell a podcast is, despite being frequent guests on it.

Of the main line diesels, only Bear has shown any real interest in the internet, and was immediately put in charge of the Amazon Alexa when a unit was installed in the diesel shed. He also has an iPod that he got for Christmas a few years back. (The NWR has a very good personal electronics recycling program called give it to Henry, he’ll make use it.)

Bear does listen to podcasts as well as music, but his choices are so insufferably boring that even Henry refuses to listen to them. (I don’t really listen to podcasts - despite making one - so insert the most boring podcast you can think of here.)

As for other internet uses...

Gordon is very up-to-date on the newest social media trends - somehow - but only really cares when he is involved. He won’t admit it, but he’s been trying to figure out how to work a camera/selfie stick for some time so he can start up his own Instagram account. So far he has been unsuccessful, but one day he will manage it.

James has had an ongoing feud with his own Wikipedia page for about a decade now. The article sourced most of its information about his construction off of some out-of-print book about the L&Y. The book in question is accurate about James’ class, but not James himself - as he was a prototype engine. There’s no other primary sources available, so the very dedicated Wikipedia mod who created the page won’t change it - no matter how much James complains that he was there! He knows what happened!

Every now and again a TTTE fan blog/tumblr will make a post about hypothetical “ships” of the Sodor engines. Most of the time it’s shipping the core characters like Gordon and Henry, much to Gordon’s bafflement and Henry’s amusement!

Only one blog (a ttte fan tumblr by the curious name of @mean-scarlet-deceiver ) has gotten it right. Henry actually reached out to congratulate this blogger, but was unfortunately mistaken for a very dedicated roleplay account.

James is very annoyed by these blogs, as they have never once correctly guessed who he is “shipped” with! He has tried several times to be seen in public with Delta, but these events have never gone as planned - the “best” instance is when Edward rolled by at exactly the wrong moment, leading to months of speculation that JamesxEdward was the ship to look out for!

Thomas, being a generally oblivious sort of engine, was totally unaware of the online fan community around the TV show until he started getting actively harassed by vloggers and Instagrammers in the early 2010s. He’s fine with it now, but it was a deeply unusual experience for most of 2012.

Toby has developed an unexpectedly popular following on social media following his collab with Stormzy. His official twitter is huge now, with over a million followers, even if he has no idea what to do with it. He posts rarely, but usually manages to make an incredible post when he does.

No-one is sure who told Oliver what a “fan-production” is, but if you manage to get ahold of him for any period of time and ask him nicely, he will lend his voice to your TTTE fan-project, so long as it isn’t about [INSERT TERRIBLE SOCIAL/POLITICAL VIEW(S) HERE]. This means that he has 100% voiced dramatic readings of NSFW Fanfics before, which is always an absolute riot to spring on people unannounced.

There is a series of slice-of-life TTTE fanfics on Ao3 that have been written with such accuracy and innate railway knowledge that people are sure it was written by a Sodor engine, but nobody knows which one.

The Culdee Fell Railway has very active Instagram, Twitter and YouTube accounts, with all of the engines and coaches showing up regularly. It’s about the closest any of the railways on Sodor have come to what those outside the UK would call “normal locomotive social media”.

The Skarloey Railway has social media accounts too, but they don’t really feature the engines in any meaningful way, instead being used as a normal service announcements page.

The SR is a real working railway that doesn’t rely on tourism money as much as the others do, so they get a bit of a pass here.

The Arlesdale Railway has Twitter and YouTube, which didn’t usually get a lot of hits until 2020, when Ivan and Amanda Farrier started badgering the staff to make some videos just to alleviate some boredom. So far the most popular videos on the channel are a front-mounted camera video of the entire line slow-tv style, Bert explaining how steam engines work, and a video of Mike complaining about Justin Bieber for a solid half-hour.

That’s about it as far as Sodor goes, but before we’re done, I want to take a moment to talk about Tornado, because I have some fun ideas for her...

First of all, we need to establish that Tornado is very young. Her construction only started in late 90′s, and she was steamed to life in 2000, putting her firmly into the “Zoomer” category. Add in the fact that she was built by a bunch of old men who didn’t really know how to treat a new engine, and she was raised much more like a human than a locomotive - I’ll get to this much more in the proper Tornado Headcanon post, but what this means here is that when social media started being a thing in the mid-to-late 2000′s, the people at the A1 Trust decided that they needed a young person to run things like Twitter, Facebook, and Myspace... and, well, Tornado was the youngest person in the trust by a large margin.

I should state here that in the rest of the world, locomotives are on the internet at roughly the same level as humans are, so there’s plenty of equipment to connect a phone/computer/camera to an engine - being English, the A1 Trust didn’t know how common it was, but they managed to get it up and running just the same.

So Tornado has very quickly become attuned to the internet, just like any other teenager would. (yes, let’s let that settle into our minds for a moment - Tornado is barely old enough to drink in the US!) Quite naturally that means that she knows social media inside and out, and is actually quite a proficient social media manager for the trust, managing all of their social pages. More than one person who has complained about the trust on twitter has unknowingly been complaining to Tornado herself!

“On the internet, nobody knows that you’re a dog Engine”.

Tornado has her own personal social media accounts too, but most/all of the time she gets mistaken for a very dedicated role-player, as the general perception of British Locomotives is that they don’t tweet. This has resulted in some amazing reactions from podcast hosts (because, as you might expect, Tornado is very knowledgeable about steam traction in the 21st century, and tweets about it often, so train podcasts want to talk to her) when she gets invited onto video calls, turns on her webcam, and is met with screams from people who suddenly realize that her profile picture is accurate.

By far the best instance of this is when she was invited onto a video call with a railfan podcast. She was at the NRM at the time and managed to convince them to let her use their Skype setup. A wide-angle lens was needed because she was on the turntable in the Great Hall, so that podcast quickly got sidetracked when her webcam was turned on and revealed Tornado, with Mallard, Evening Star, City of Truro, and Green Arrow visible behind her. Whatever the original topic was quickly got thrown out in favor of a 2-hour Q&A with some of the most famous engines in the UK.

#ask response #the internet #ttte thomas #ttte toby #ttte bill and ben #ttte gordon #ttte daisy #ttte mavis #ttte henry #ttte bear #ttte oliver #tornado #nrm #trains using the internet #ttte #sodor #sodor shenangians #the formatting on this one is super fucked up and i can't figure out how to fix it - sorry

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laurore-stormwitch · 3 years

Text

Here is my written-during-an-emotional-crisis “short” take on how is Nikolai going to propose to Zoya. They like to play tough but I imagine them both being really soft with each other, so I always believed it would be a moment somehow like this. And yes I do love to project my emotional issues on zoyalai thank you both very much to them.

word count: 1969

tw: mild reference to blood/violence

our first lifetime

Nikolai tossed a rock in the lake, watching the water curl and smooth in circles. He was sitting with his back leaned on an old oak, his knees up and his head thrown lazily on the side towards the sunlight, glancing at Zoya every now and then. They didn’t get to have many moments like this anymore. Since the war ended three months ago, their life had been a whirlwind of changes, sleepless nights, meetings and parades throughout the country. Nikolai cherished these rare times they got to spend on their own, the simple pleasure of knowing they had each other after it was almost taken away from them. Considering his life spent searching for adventures and thrill, he thought he was beginning to understand the appeal of ordinary things now. Even though he would not call the gift of having Zoya by his side, spread on the grass with the wind in her hair, ordinary. Three months and he still didn’t get used to this one bit. He turned to her, taking in the sight of her relaxed, eyelids closed, the morning rays warming her skin and his heart. They’d been here an hour or so, the same thought turning inside Nikolai’s head over and over again, not for the first time in these months. He laced his fingers with her hand, stirring her out of her quiet. There was a certain nervousness curling in his chest as he wondered why he hadn’t spoken yet. He told himself it was because he was trying to set up a grand gesture, something to deserve her, but that was not it. He was just scared. Scared of letting this slip again, of being so close to have everything he had ever wanted. Even the idea of staying away from Zoya sent a searing ache through his body. A sudden urge burned his throat in response, as if the words were fighting to get out on their own will. Just tell her. Gather some boldness and tell her. He couldn’t wait anymore. He needed to know that they could have this for a long time, if there was a kind of peace awaiting for them. And maybe the perfect moment was this coddled secret quiet they shared, the way they felt safe with each other.

“Zoya?”

“Mh?” She murmured. Nikolai let the words roll out before thinking twice about it.

“I want to ask you something.”

Zoya opened her eyes to look at him, with that serene and soft look reserved only to their intimacy; she prompted herself up, turning to face him and leaning on his legs to focus her attention on him, their hands still bound together. As she lowered her head on his knee, the scar on her chest peaked through her loose shirt. Nikolai traced it slowly with his fingers, feeling the grip of anxiety stealing the air out of his lungs. Flashes of the battle stormed his mind as it happened so often after the war, throwing it into chaos. He saw Zoya lying on the field, the stench of the fight, the smell of ozone and rain scraping at his nose. His clothes drenched with her blood, the way he wanted to rip his skin off his hands to make the stains go away, bright red streams hiding his darkened fingers. The hollow quiet in her chest when her heart stopped moving, the well of pain ripping his insides apart as he felt her limbs go numb. Her first ragged breath that tore the silence apart, the light slowly coming back in her blue eyes, the impossible relief he felt as he kept calling for her with a cracked and desperate voice he didn’t recognize as his own. The possibility of losing her, wrenching, shattering everything in its wake, worse than death itself.

“Nikolai - ”

He grasped his name coming out of her lips, blinking until Zoya came into focus again.

“Nikolai, I’m here.”

Nikolai sighed, moving the hold he had on her hand to her wrist, brushing his thumb on her pulse point and letting the rhythmic pounding of her heart take him back to reality. It had become a habit, this small gesture. Whenever the world felt overwhelming, whenever the dread and the grief blossomed at the memory of what had happened, he needed to feel this sound to know that she was real at his side. It was the only act capable to calm him down, to drift him to sleep at night. He felt he was being unfair, sometimes: Zoya was the one who died in his arms, and he was the one still having nightmares about it. But the terror he knew in that moment had been unlike everything he had ever had to live through. She’s alive, he would say to himself, matching the words with every beat. Staying awake for hours gripping at her wrist, carefully watching her breathing. Still gripping it while she whispered in his ear and ran her hand through his hair, while they sealed their wounds one stitch at a time and kissed their scars. We’re fine. We’re together, Zoya would tell him, over and over, a lullaby. Waiting their tremors away like she did once in the confines of a carriage. You haven’t lost her. She came back. When he felt his breathing steadied, he tentatively curled his lips in a reassuring smile, Zoya patiently waiting for him. She waved the smile back, encouraging him to speak with a nod of her head. She’s alive. We’re fine. Ask her.

“You said you have something to ask.”

It occurred to him he could’ve probably planned this better, at least rehearsed a speech maybe. Yet, Zoya was the only truly not calculated and unpredicted event in his life, someone who came in and swept everything else away. It felt fitting to grasp at this spontaneous impulse, and he didn’t regret the impromptu decision. Nikolai didn’t want this to be a political matter. It was about what they had always been; the two of them holding each other together as they had done for the past three years, be it on an evening spent sorting through letters or in a peaceful morning on the shore of a lake.

“You’re going to have quite the number of lifetimes, right?”

Zoya furrowed her brow with an amused look, easing herself on him the way she was before when she noted he was back to being the calm and nonsensical Nikolai she had fell for.

“A bunch, probably.”

She conceded. He nodded and inhaled deeply, tucking a wild strand of hair behind her ears, grazing her gorgeous face with his knuckles. Why was he so tense about this? It felt like jumping off into the unknown and coming back home at the same time.

“Would you like to spend your first one with me?”

Zoya stilled, not moving a single muscle as she looked at him like she was pondering how exactly insane he was being. Despite her incredible ability to stand frozen through a tide of emotions, his thumb felt her heart racing up. When his seriousness sank in, her eyes shone and she pursed her lips, barely containing a grin, feigning indifference. He heard her breath itch.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m kind of asking you to marry me, Zoya.” He huffed with a teasing expression, showing a confidence he didn’t really feel. This time she smiled, knocking him off his feet.

“Oh, yes, I figured. But I don’t see a ring.”

Zoya chuckled, getting him dizzy on that crystal-clear sound. Her cheek was still laying on his knee, her gaze studying him attentively. Nikolai tilted her chin delicately, locking their eyes together, leaning forward.

“I have no ring for now, I’m sorry. I know this is sudden, and it’s soon. I don’t want us to do this because we feel pressured too, or because it makes sense. I just – I want this. You. I want you. More than everything. I’ve never thought it was possible to have a love like this, and now that I do, I’m not letting you go. I want you by my side, for the rest of my pointless human life. If you’ll have me, and I do hope you will.”

The spark in her eyes flickered, a slight tremor of her lips betraying the turmoil stirring in her chest. She closed the inch that separated them to drew him in for a kiss, resting her forehead on his. Nikolai smirked against her mouth, taking her actions as a good omen, an unbelievable solace flooding his chest. A whisper came out of her when they broke apart.

“Took you long enough to ask.”

“Were you getting impatient?”

“You’re know to throw away proposals like handkerchiefs. I was beginning to feel left out.”

Nikolai felt a weight lifting off his chest as he chuckled too at her accurate remark. He could sense there was some truth hidden in Zoya’s words; it was still hard for her to believe that they conquered this, in the end. That there was someone who wanted to be her home. He brushed their lips together again, the touch soft as a feather.

“I promise you this is the only wedding I will actually go through with.”

“I’d make a stunning bride. Hard to walk away from.”

“Most definitely. Is that a yes?”

He registered the shadow sweeping behind her eyes. It was a challenging choice; he knew he was not just asking her to marry him, that it would not be as easy as it felt in this moment. He was asking her to wed a king, to take a country, to face politics and prejudice, to give herself to an otkazat’sya she would have to say goodbye to, someday. As many as the obstacles were, though, he could also see how this future was a promise of light. That every burden withered on the face of the life they could share, and he could only hope Zoya saw that too. Sure enough, she pushed through her doubts, her fortifications crumbling into dust; she cupped his cheek, releasing a long breath and throwing out her answer with an ever so slight shiver in her voice.

“I think I’d like to see you making my first lifetime insufferable.”

“You’re not going to give me the satisfaction of hearing yes, my dear Nikolai, of course I’ll marry your awesome self, right?”

“That was as close as a yes you’re going to get have until you get me a ring, my dear Nikolai.”

They both laughed wholeheartedly, flustered and jittery as two kids with a happiness too great to fathom on their shoulders. Nikolai pulled her on his chest, letting her settle herself in the crook of his neck. He buried his nose on her hair, circling his arms around her, beaming with joy and relief.

“I’ll do it better next time, I assure you. I’ll get you the most precious ring you can imagine, I’ll get down on my knees and everything.”

“You might just like proposals better than weddings. Don’t do the knee thing please, a ring is more than enough.”

She teased, breathing deeply in his scent, her heartbeat slowing down. They stayed silent for a while, tightened in their embrace. Nikolai held her like she was the lighthouse that guided him safely in his troubled ocean, hoping to keep her in his arms so that she wouldn’t notice his watery eyes. He had never felt so lucky in the entirety of his stupid life.

“I’m really glad you said yes, Zoya.”

“I’m really glad you asked. And Nikolai, it was perfect like this.”

Zoya sighed, planting a delicate kiss on his palm.

She’s alive. You haven’t lost her. You’re going to get to hold her forever.

#zoyalai #what else #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #zoya and nikolai #mywriting #fan fiction #grishaverse #yes i did cry while writing this #please leigh do them justice i beg you #king of scars #post row maybe #rule of wolves #nikolai duology #so much fluff

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kyoomiii · 4 years

Text

♡ Burnt out [hcs]

- ➣. . . ❝ Could you maybe do headcanons for literally any Haikyuu character/characters with an s/o who's just done with everything and exausted and feels like shit?❤ If that makes sense😂 Again I completely understand if you don't want to do this request!❤ ❞

― requested by: @bitweird1 ―

- ✎ characters ❝ daichi, kuroo, and tsukishima ❞

- [ trigger warning(s): none ]

- ⚘ genre ❝ fluff, angst ❞

❝ i’m so excited~ this is my first request! but anyway, putting that aside i hope that all of you out there are doing well and if times are currently difficult for you, just know that there’s someone rooting for you. i’m not particularly good with words- which is ironic for someone who writes, but, i hope you can feel my support through this hc~ ღゝ◡╹)ノ♡ ❞

-kyo ♡

Life is always moving, it passes and waits for no one. And lately, as the school year draws to a close with tests upon tests cluttering your life, it’s been feeling like the days have merged into one, passing and passing with each one feeling exactly like the last.

As of tonight, you find that you’ve had enough... Unable to cope much longer on your own in the dark confinements of your room.

Instead, you find yourself at his house- 12am on a school night. And though it seemed like a good idea at the time, the feeling of guilt seems to bloom in your chest the longer you stare at the doorbell.

You knew from the beginning that Daichi is a busy man, the volleyball club, and his schoolwork, both something that he invests so much time and effort into, so surely he doesn’t have the time to deal with someone else’s problems, and with the little amount of sleep he does get, you feel bad stealing these precious hours away from him.

But even so, you find the courage to press the bell, knowing full well that he is home alone.

The feeling of anxiety buzzes throughout your body as you wait for some sort of response. A gentle flutter filling your chest when you finally get one in the form of Daichi opening his front door, disheveled and confused.

“y/n? What are you doing here?��

However, no matter how hard you try to let it out… You just can’t. It’s like the words have been caught in your throat, hanging onto your cords and refusing to let go.

“I just- uh… I just missed you is all…”

Daichi cocks an eyebrow, and you can tell he finds it odd- perhaps not even believing what you have said. But nonetheless, he steps aside inviting you in, though not without a yawn as he rubs his eyes, highlighting the dark circles that have formed just beneath them. Once again you feel bad for intruding in on his time.

He leads you to his room, where he opens his blanket to you knowing full well that the both of you have school the next morning.

Gladly, you accept crawling under his comforter with him and snuggling close because while it wasn’t exactly the reason why you were there, it was definitely something on your mind.

But even with the undeniable comfort that is his embrace and gentle touch as he traces your bare skin with his gentle touches, you still can’t fall asleep. No matter how long you close your eyes, or how many sheep you count, your mind is just racing.

“y/n… why are you really here?”

Suddenly, everything you were holding in becomes overwhelmingly strong. It starts with small tears until you’re sobbing into his sheets.

And even then, you can’t bring yourself to just say it, but at the same time you don’t really need to, because he knows, and he understands.

Turning on the small bedside lamp, he pulls you into his lap. His hold becoming tighter than before as he rocks back and forth with you.

“Shhh… It’s okay.”

“I’m so tired Daichi... “

“I know… I’m here.”

All at once, you feel so much lighter.

The day seemed to drag on longer and longer with each passing minute. It was like one thing after another, something always weighing down on your shoulders from the moment you decided to get out of bed that morning.

You haven’t said anything, but Kuroo can see it from the moment he greeted you at the entrance of the school. He notices it in the way your shoulders tense up, and the way the corners of your lips twitch just the slightest as you try so hard to smile at him as if nothing were wrong… But he knows, and he refuses to let it slip.

“y/n, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing Tetsu, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah… I’m okay.”

He doesn’t believe you, but he doesn’t push either, simply nodding at you as he grasps your hand in his own, intertwining your fingers together as he always does.

Though this time you notice that his grip is slightly tighter than usual, his thumb caressing the back of your hand gently, and for a moment, it appears as though everything eases and the weight of your world doesn’t feel so heavy.

But, it seems like all good things come to an end and the pressure on your shoulders return, only getting heavier and heavier throughout the day until you feel unable to truly be there as the lesson goes on, the teacher’s words flowing through your head and out your ear.

You tell yourself repeatedly that it’ll be okay… And maybe, just maybe it will, but you can see past your own lies, and you can feel yourself slipping as the lecture portion of the class comes to an end.

“l/n?”

“May I please go to the bathroom?”

“Alright, make it quick”

With hurried steps you leave the room that has grown insufferably small, head hung low as you avoid the gazes of your fellow peers, because you know he can see you from his seat just a couple of rows from your own, and that terrifies you.

However, despite your quick pace, you can’t seem to make it to the bathroom, because with each step the walls begin to close in, and with every breath, it seems that your lungs are set to fire. So instead you opt for the nearest empty staircase, hugging your knees to your chest as quiet sobs rip through your body.

Cupping a hand over your mouth to suppress your cries, you don’t notice the heartbroken look in Kuroo’s eyes when he sees your trembling figure.

Silently, he makes his way over to you, engulfing your body against his frame.

“Let it out…”

You finally do, removing your hand from your mouth to set your sobs free into his chest as he runs his fingers over your clothed back. He’s warm, and that eases your mind just a little.

“Tetsurou?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not fine…”

“I know… And that’s okay…I’ve got you...”

And he means it.

Tsukishima noticed the abnormalities in your behavior throughout the day. He saw it in the subtle strains as your words wavered, and your feigned smile, or the simple sharp intake of breath you took when your brows pinched together. And while most were oblivious to your behavior, he had caught all the oddities, docking each one down with a mental note as the day went on.

“Are you okay y/n? You seem… Different.”

“I’m fine Kei, don’t worry about me.”

“...If you say so.”

But now, as your finger’s lace with Tsukishima’s on the walk home together. He can feel the remaining tenseness that has been lingering in your body the whole day. He concludes that his suspicions were correct. You are not okay.

However despite this revelation, you can’t bring yourself to admit it, even as you think back to the bad grade on your math test or the group project, that has more so become a you project with the lack of effort your partner has put in. You feel as though it’ll all come crashing down when you finally give in, and that scares you.

The thought makes you inhale sharply. Your grip on his hand tightening just ever so slightly as your mind becomes so scattered that you don’t even notice his gentle squeeze in response.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I told you already, I’m okay."

A breath of relief that you didn’t even know you were holding is released at the sight of his home, which in this case has very much become one of the places you call home as well.

The familiar scent of his mother’s cooking fills your body as you enter the house, offering her a polite bow which she returns with a bright smile.

All these things have been embedded within you with how many times you’ve done them. So it’s all the more frustrating when this routine is broken in the form of this constant lingering of tangled negative emotions that have you tightening your grip on your pencil, threatening to snap it.

Tsukishima watches the way you slump over your work, your grip on the pencil tight before loosening until it clatters onto the table followed by a broken cry as you curl into yourself.

He doesn’t necessarily show it, but he can feel a piece of himself break along with you as he watches you crumble. Especially since he doesn’t exactly know what to do- he’s never been good with comforting people, not when he was young and not now.

And as you hear his footsteps around the room, you figure that he’s probably left, knowing that he must be a little overwhelmed too. But the sudden weight that’s placed over your shoulders surprises you causing you to look up, only to see that he had wrapped his (secret) favorite dinosaur comforter around you.

Hesitantly, he brings you into his arms, settling you between his legs as he rests his chin upon your head letting you cry into the fabric of the blanket.

It’s in his comforting warmth that you find the courage to finally admit what’s bothering you.

“It feels like everything is going wrong- I try so hard and it feels like everything just breaks… I’m so exhausted Kei.”

He listens silently, letting you vent out your emotions into the quiet space because he wants you to feel heard and safe.

“You are the most capable person I know. All anyone can ever do is their best y/n… And sometimes it doesn’t work out, that’s just life… But I’ll be damned if I let you experience that on your own.”

“Thank you Kei… I love you”

“... I love you too.”

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thearvariblues · 4 years

Text

Valdo Marx Plays Matchmaker

AKA Geralt has to deal with the fact that Valdo Marx isn’t quite as he had imagined him. To begin with, he’s not, in fact, a he.

“She’s a woman,” Geralt announced, his yellow eyes wide with disbelief.

Jaskier snorted, staring into his beer.

“Thank you for the information, I had no idea.”

“No, I mean… A woman.”

“Yes, Geralt, you’ve already said that.”

“You never told me she was a woman!”

“Shut up. I must have.”

“Never,” Geralt said firmly, shaking his head.

“I must have referred to her by a pronoun at some point, you just never listen to me.”

“I do listen to you, Jaskier, and you never did.”

Jaskier took a large gulp of beer and shrugged.

“Well, now you know. So what?”

“So what? I always thought it was some old, wrinkled… ballsack from Oxenfurt! A pompous prick, you always said, an insufferable cockalorum–”

“Yes, and?”

“And now I find out that he’s… she’s… That Valdo fucking Marx is a…”

“Woman, yes, Geralt, we’ve been through this!” Jaskier moaned, desperately trying to ignore the ridiculously boring music and the high, melodic voice that filled the air.

“It’s a shock, that’s all I’m saying,” Geralt grunted.

“Yeah, well, whatever. Finish your fucking beer, I want to get out of here.”

“Writing a new song?” Geralt smirked. “Because that rhymed.”

“Fuck off,” Jaskier groaned.

Geralt took a drink, contemplating.

“You know, I don’t even know why you hate her so much. She’s quite good, actually. Reminds me of you.”

“She is nothing like me!” Jaskier hissed.

“Well, if you listen carefully–”

“Don’t you ever dare comparing me to Valdo Marx!” Jaskier growled. “I have enough of it every fucking time I go home to Lettenhove. Oh, Julian, have you heard Valdo’s new composition? It’s so good, don’t you think? Julian, couldn’t you be more like Valdo instead of following a Witcher around, it’s so unbecoming of a young man like you. Oh, Julian, have you heard that your sister–”

“Wait, your what?” Geralt blinked.

“Sister, Geralt, try to keep up.”

“Trust me, I am. Desperately,” Geralt said. “But you don’t make sense, Jaskier. You talk about Valdo one second, and then you start about your… Hold on. Are you telling me that Valdo Marx, the troubadour of Cidaris, is…”

“Is, in fact, my sister Madeleine, yes.”

“Your sister Madeleine,” Geralt repeated. “Fuck.”

“I’d rather if you didn’t,” Jaskier sneered.

“Are we talking older or younger here?” Geralt asked, eyeing the troubadour on a tiny makeshift stage. She was wearing a plain, dark blue dress made of some kind of a glossy fabric. Her skirt was so long it brushed the boards of the stage with her every movement, but it didn’t look like she cared, she just played her lute and sang and had no idea how entrancing she was. And she did remind Geralt of Jaskier.

The bard muttered something unintelligibly.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“For fuck’s…” Jaskier sighed. “Twin. My twin sister.”

“Oh.”

“Older by three fucking minutes, and she’ll never let me forget it.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Jaskier snorted. “Always better than me, our Madeleine. Born first, learned to walk first, learned to read first… The only thing I started to do first was playing the lute and singing, and what does she do the second I decide to travel and become a bard? She follows in my footsteps, trying to outdo me once again. And she fucking succeeds!”

“That’s not true, Jaskier,” Geralt smiled, placing a hand on Jaskier’s forearm. “She might be the more… artistic one of you two, but she will never be a better a´performer. And I can’t hear people singing her songs like they do yours, can you?”

“Well… If you put it like that… Oh, fuck.”

“What’s wrong?”

The song had ended a few seconds ago, Geralt realized. And Jaskier was now staring, utterly terrified, towards the stage.

“She’s noticed us,” the bard mumbled. “She’s coming here.”

“Oh,” Geralt said. “Fuck.”

Jaskier huffed, watching as Geralt pulled a clean shirt over his head.

“What?” Geralt grunted.

“Nothing,” Jaskier muttered, looking away.

He was sitting on a bed in their shared room in the tavern and trying his very best not to brood. And he knew very well that he was failing spectacularly.

“I had to say yes, Jaskier,” Geralt sighed. “It would have been impolite not to.”

“And you’re all about politeness,” Jaskier mumbled. “Like every time you show up covered in blood and guts and brain occasionally–”

“That was one time.”

“Well it’s not very polite to barge into the room, tell my lovely date to go fuck herself and immediately start taking off your filthy clothes, is it?! The moment she saw your impossible, muscular, god-like torso, I stood no chance!”

“Is there any point to this babbling, Jaskier?” Geralt sighed.

“Well, yes. That you should have said no to my fucking sister when she asked you to have dinner with her!”

Geralt smirked.

“Are you jealous, bard? Did you want to have dinner with her yourself?”

“No, I wanted to have dinner with–” Jaskier started before promptly cutting himself off. “It’s just so… Madeleine, you know?!”

“What is?” Geralt frowned.

“She always has to steal what’s mine!” Jaskier groaned, letting his body fall onto the hard palliase. “My success in music, my parents’ affection, and now my Witcher.”

“She won’t steal me, Jaskier,” the Witcher in question said. “I would first have to allow myself to be stolen.”

“Yeah, wait until you’ve talked to her for five minutes. I bet you’ll like her way more than you like me.”

“Nonsense. There’s no one I like more than I like you.”

Jaskier blinked in confusion, raising his head to look at Geralt, who was, for some reason, blushing.

“What did you just say?” the bard asked.

“Fuck,” Geralt muttered, fleeing the room.

Valdo Marx was nothing like Jaskier had ever described her, that was the first thing Geralt realized.

She wasn’t pompous. She definitely wasn’t insufferable. And she wasn’t a, well, cockalorum.

She was quite nice, actually, and she really did remind Geralt of her brother. She was intelligent, she was funny… And well, she was pretty, he had to give her that.

Not nearly as pretty as Jaskier, though, his traitorous brain put in, and Geralt nearly choked on his beer.

“Are you alright?” the woman smiled. “I’m not boring you, I hope.”

Geralt shook his head.

“No. Please, go on.”

Oh, and she spent the entire evening talking not about herself, like Geralt had expected, but about her brother, about his songs, about his successful students from Oxenfurt… About their childhood. And Geralt, who had never heard a single word about Jaskier’s life before Posada, was beyond fascinated.

“Well, as I was saying, Jaskier’s always so competitive,” she chuckled. “Everything’s a race for him. I don’t know how many times I told him, dear heart, we don’t have to be enemies, but he just doesn’t listen.”

Geralt nodded solemnly.

“I know. He even accused you of trying to steal me from him.”

“Dear, I would never,” she said. “I know how madly in love he is with you, I couldn’t–”

“He’s what?!” Geralt gaped.

Valdo’s eyes went wide and she covered her mouth in shock.

“Oh, my. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud, it just slipped,” she gasped. “Please, don’t tell Jaskier that I revealed his secret so carelessly!”

But Geralt was already rising to his feet, finishing his beer on the way up.

“Excuse me, madam,” he croaked, slamming the tankard on the table. “I need to go and speak with your brother. Right fucking now.”

Valdo Marx was busy wolfing down the boiled eggs and sausages she was having for breakfast when, suddenly, a shadow fell on her table. Before she even managed to lift her eyes up, her brother unceremoniously plopped himself down on the bench opposite of her.

“You traitorous bitch,” he growled.

“And good morning to you too, Julian,” she grinned at him. “Sausage?”

“I hate you,” Jaskier muttered, grabbing one from her plate. “You did it on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Of course not. What do you think of me, little brother?!”

“Only the worst.”

She chuckled.

“It was mother’s idea, if you absolutely need to know,” she muttered with her mouth full of scrambled eggs. “She told me to do anything to make you pull your head out of your arse and finally confess to that Wolf of yours.”

“Lies. Mother would never say arse.”

“Right. She said backside. My bad.”

“Hmpf,” Jaskier hummed. “May I remark that making me confess and telling him about my feelings, making it seem like an accident is not the same thing?”

“You may not.” She shook her head, sighing. “Besides, it’s not my fault you’re both denser than cousin Amelia, is it? Look, I tried. I wrote that romantic ballad about him, claiming it was a new song by the famous Jaskier–”

“Oh, of course. I should have known that complete atrocity was your doing! That sloppy excuse for a ballad that could have ruined my reputation!”

“Jaskier, one of your most popular songs is about a girl wanting to jerk you off.”

“Your point being?”

She laughed, letting him steal another sausage.

“Nothing, my dear. How was your night, anyway?”

“I think you know damn well,” Jaskier said, smiling. “Actually, I think the whole town knows.”

“To be honest, I think our mother in Lettenhove knows that your Witcher loves and desires you back. He wasn’t exactly trying to keep his voice down.”

“Believe it or not, but he was,” Jaskier grinned. “He just wasn’t very successful.”

She nodded, finishing her breakfast and getting to her feet.

“Well, my work here is done, dear brother. Will you pay for my meal? I think I deserve it for what I’ve done for you.”

“Always so humble,” he said. “I still hate you, Madeleine, you know?”

“I love you too, Julian,” she winked. “Oh, and by the way, mother sends her love and demands that you bring the Witcher the next time you come to visit. She said there is a monster in Lettenhove that desperately needs to be slain.”

“Well, if it’s urgent, I could try convincing Geralt to…” Jaskier started before pausing. “Right. She meant grandmother, didn’t she?”

“I’m afraid so,” Valdo chuckled, grabbing her cloak. “Well, I’ll be on my way. See you around, Jaskier.”

“See you,” the bard replied, trying to hide a smile. “Valdo Marx.”

#geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #my fics

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scxrsgxrd · 3 years

Note

an idea I had because of your Mickey thoughts: what if he kept misbehaving, so his girlfriend decided to have him wear a cock cage for a day? he can't touch himself, but it's all he can think about all day. when she gets home, he's a mess, but she can't resist the temptation to tease him. he's being punished, after all. when she finally frees him, he practically pounces on her.

Ohhhh sweet anon this idea is so delicious. Lets buckle up for some more subby Mickey.

A continuation of this drabble:

Mickey’s words echoed in her ears, the promise of him being on his best behaviour was almost enough to break her.

“You want to be a good boy?” Her voice was low, and Mickey could tell she meant business, so he nodded continually, his head bobbing up and down as his eyes glittered.

“Then you’ll wait until morning. I have a surprise waiting for you.”

When she turned over to resume her slumber Mickey’s jaw dropped, and he let out a groan, pawing at her arm once more in a last attempt to beg her for some form of stimulation.

“Mickey. Go to sleep.” Her tone was cold, but Mickey wasn’t thinking with his brain. His cock ached as it had done for almost a week, and he was determined to get a rise out of her.

“Please, mommy.”

She whipped round in an instant, her eyes ablaze as she grabbed a hold of his cheeks and let out a small growl. If Mickey wanted to defy her, that was fine. But he’d have to deal with the consequences that came with this defiance.

Mickey’s cheeks flushed, and he swallowed hard, waiting for her to reprimand him so he could feel something. But she knew Mickey too well, she could feel his bulge against her ass and knew that this act of disobedience was purposeful. So, once again she turned her back to him, allowing for her rage to simmer, as she knew that come morning, Mickey would receive his punishment.

When she awoke Mickey was laid on his back, head turned so he could gaze at her. She had to stifle a giggle when she saw the tent shape around his crotch, the sheet covering Mickey’s lower half was almost lifted up completely. When Mickey noticed she was awake he gazed at her imploringly, his bottom lip sticking out ever so slightly. She smirked, Mickey had no idea what he was in for.

“I want you to go take a cold shower. As cold as you can manage.” She murmured, reaching a hand over to run her fingers through his soft hair as he frowned.

Mickey parted his lips to respond, to grumble, but when she cocked her brow he decided to remain silent and comply. He rose out of bed, shimmying his boxers down to his ankles and letting out a small sigh at the relief, the material had been constraining his cock all night.

“He feels claustrophobic now.” Mickey mumbled, gazing down at his erection to ensure that there was no lasting damage.

She chuckled, propping herself up on her elbows to allow for a better view. “I need you soft, Mickey, okay?”

Mickey scoffed.

“I mean it. Today will only work if you’re soft, can you do that for me?”

Mickey nodded and strode over to the bathroom, and the several yelps she heard indicated to her that he was following her instructions. Good. While Mickey was distracted she took the chance to drag out her box from under the bed, the box that contained the latest toy she had purchased for Mickey.

She held the cock cage in her hand, it was heavy, but nothing that Mickey couldn’t handle. This time she’d take it easy on him, selecting the largest cuff ring to hold his balls, and ensuring she had a hefty amount of lube at hand.

When Mickey returned she was stood by the bedroom door, eager to introduce him to their new toy. She removed the towel that was hanging loosely around his waist, tossing it into the corner of the room to inspect if he had managed to keep it down.

“I’m impressed. Turns out you can be a good boy after all, huh?” She smiled at him, he had managed to keep his cock flaccid, perfect.

Mickey reciprocated her smile, relieved to be receiving her praise. He took deep breaths, keeping his gaze fixed on the wall opposite him, he knew if he looked at her for even a second it’d be game over.

“Come sit on the bed, baby boy.” She purred, guiding him over to the edge of the bed and sitting him with his legs splayed as she knelt between his knees. Mickey’s eyes widened in alarm, and he held his breath as his fists bunched up the bedsheets.

“F-fuck.” He whispered, the vein on the left side of his head was becoming more and more prominent as he refused to let his gaze fall on the women knelt mere inches away from his aching cock.

When he heard the sound of the cap flipping off the bottle of lube, Mickey felt the ache intensify, and he silently prayed that he wouldn’t need to keep this up, or down for that matter, much longer. Mickey’s eyes then trailed further up the bed, where he saw a metal ring, and then next to it more rings, but in the form of a cage, in the shape of his-

“Ohhhhh, fuck.” He couldn’t help but whine as he felt her lube-coated fingers ghost along his cock, careful not to hold him too tightly as she smeared a generous amount of lube onto him.

“Mickey, look at me.” His gaze fell on her in an instant, his eyes brimming as his knuckles turned white, his grip on the sheets becoming tighter.

“Tell me your word.”

“Cantaloupe.”

She nodded and took hold of the cuff, carefully easing his balls into it one at a time. Mickey was already breathing heavily, the sensation of her fingers against his balls made his hips buck slightly. She clicked her tongue.

“That’s one extra hour in the cage.” She placed a light kiss on the inside of Mickey’s knee as his bottom lip quivered.

He had to close his eyes as she eased his cock into the steel structure, his breath hitching in his throat as he heard her lock the cage. She raised herself to her feet, cocking her head to one side as she assessed her handiwork.

“This is what happens when you disobey me, sweetheart. Your little episode last night means you’ll wear this today, all day.” A large smirk formed on her lips as she watched the shockwaves run through Mickey, his eyes darting between her and the cage as he felt the blood begin to rush to his cock.

That same sensation stuck with him throughout the day. He had clamped his teeth together, his jaw almost locking in place as the pain coursed through his lower half. His cock was pressed against the top of the cage, his skin trapped against the cold metal as he hissed, and for the first time he was desperate to be able to have a hard on. He snaked his hand around the cage, but this was futile. It was locked in place, with no way for him to move it or to hold himself. The cuff holding his balls made him squirm, the restrictive device making him long for her return.

Mickey had thought that getting dressed may help, that his boxer shorts may alleviate some of the pressure, but he was wrong. His jeans only seemed it worse, the material was tight against his crotch, making the rings of the cage visible and his frustration grow further.

Even pacing didn’t work, walking was almost painful as the cage slid downwards slightly each time he took a step, which made the sensation of the cuff pressing against his balls even more unbearable. Despite Mickey flicking through every television channel and every social media feed, he could only think of one thing. He thrust his head against the back of the couch where he had positioned himself, his mind racing at the thought of having his cock in his girlfriend’s hands once again. Once he had begun to fantasize, he couldn’t stop; his memory served him well as he thought of her wrapping her hand around him. One hand on his cock, the other tightly grasping at his throat as she twisted her palm and fingers around him at an agonizingly slow pace.

Mickey wasn’t sure if it was possible for him to orgasm while in the cage, but it sure felt like that’s where he was headed.

Just as he thought he could feel his balls begin to tighten he heard the front door close, indicating that she had finally returned, and he sprang up. When she saw him she couldn’t help but smile. Mickey’s thighs were quivering, his cheeks flushed as he lowered himself down onto his knees.

“Please, I’m sorry. I’ll be a good boy, just give me another chance.” He began to beg, clasping his hands together as he let out a small sob, but she was not about to relent, not now.

Instead, she backed herself against the wall, hitching her skirt up to give Mickey a full view of her naked lower half. She pressed her thumb against her clit and felt her knees buckle, the pressure was heavenly and she could feel her arousal begin to pool around her entrance. Mickey let out a soft cry, his eyes welling up as she shuffled himself closer to her. The sight in front of him made the cage insufferable, his cock was throbbing and he could feel the beginnings of pre-cum leak out of the cage as she used her thumb to rub circles onto her clit, small moans leaving her as she kept her eyes on Mickey.

Teasing Mickey was one of her favourite parts of their dynamic. She adored the way he trusted her, his willingness to try new toys, and how easy it was to get him worked up into such a state as he was in now. His hands had latched onto her ankles as he began to press kisses onto the top of her shoes, between each kiss he’d whine and tighten his grip on her.

She knew Mickey well, and she knew when he was nearing his breaking point.

She was careful when guiding him up to their bedroom, taking each step of the stairs as slowly as possible with Mickey latched onto her arm, letting out a small sniffle as they reached the top of the staircase. He didn’t need a command when they entered the bedroom, he unbuckled his belt at godspeed, his fingers gripping onto both waistbands of his jeans and boxers as he yanked them down at the same time. Through the rings of the cage she could still see that Mickey’s cock was red, the skin inflamed from spending hours upon hours pressed against the curved steel bars. She dug her hand into her pocket, and Mickey’s heart skipped a beat when she produced the key.

“I don’t want anymore disobedience, baby. One single word out of line and I’ll use the cage again, understood?”

Before she had even finished her sentence Mickey was emphatically nodding, shuffling himself closer to her to prompt her to release him. She smiled and bent down, turning the key in the lock and gently easing his cock out of the cage. Once she had removed the whole device Mickey’s erection slapped against his stomach and he fell backwards onto the bed, panting as he reached out a hand to stroke his throbbing cock.

“Ah ah ah.” She took hold of his wrist and directed his hand away from temptation, causing Mickey to screw his eyes shut.

“You wouldn’t want me to get the cage back out again, would you baby boy?”

#subby!mickey #mickey stuff #mickey drabble #villains 2019

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proudlylost · 3 years

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My 6+1 favorite SPN fics: AU

After the SPN finale I kinda got sucked back into the fandom. The excessive amount of fanfiction reading ensued (I re-read all of my SPN fic favorites and then some) and I realised I have actually read quite a lot of them. So I thought I could share them, to highlight all the talented authors there is and also to gather all of my favorites into the one place. This post contain my favorite AU fics, the SPN universe edition of this fic rec can be found here.

Ninety One Whiskey by komodobits

“In the spring of 1944, the 104th Medical Battalion of the United States Army is disbanded, and its men reassigned to various infantry companies in preparation for their invasion of occupied France. For First Lieutenant Novak, this is less than helpful, as he has so far met his platoon’s designated medic a grand total of twice, and has both times found Sergeant Winchester to be the optimum combination of reckless, arrogant, and downright insufferable so as to make cohesive platoon function near impossible. When the time comes to move out, however, Castiel has to reconcile himself to the fact that men are going to go down and trust that Dean Winchester may well be the only person who can put them back together again. WW2 ETO infantry AU. “

READ! THIS! Well, there is some really disturbing war related and time period related stuff, but if you can stomach that, read it! Along with the Angel’s Wild, this is my favorite fanfiction. This fic is heart wrenching and so, so good.The characterization is on point. Historical accuracy is on point. Slow burn is on point. Everything is just perfect. However, as I said, this fic is heavy stuff. There is some serious angst (I cried. I almost never cry when reading) and trauma. But there is glimmers of hope, even if sometimes it feels hopeless. Expected recovery time: at least two weeks. Word Count: 401,183. Explicit

Angel’s wild by LimonadeGaby and riseofthefallenone

“But that’s the whole reason he’s here, isn’t it? He’s not out here hunting Humans. He’s not even hunting deer, or bears, or anything else that featured in Bambi. He’s out here, freezing his nuts off every night, because he’s hunting Angels.

Sometimes Dean wishes that Angels were like how they’re described in the Bible. How people from time too old for him to care much about thought Angels were messengers and warriors of God, protectors of Humans. He knows that how they’re really described in the Bible is actually pretty terrifying, but at least they were told by God that they’re supposed to love Humans, right?

That’s a thousand times better than what Angels really turned out to be.”

This was first longer fic that I read from Supernatural fandom and I fell in love. So this is “the fic that got me into the fandom” but I have read it multiple times since and it is still very, very good. I love everything about this fic. It is very original and the lore is amazing. I love how Dean and Cas are both quite young (in Cas’s case, relatively speaking) and how their love develops (slow burn! <3) I love how Cas is described and I love how he communicates (unintentionally) with flowers. You can also read this without having any knowledge of supernatural series (like I did) which is always impressive for a fic. Wor count: 389, 271. Explicit

For All You Young Hockey Players Out There, Pay Attention by thursdaysfallenangel

“Dean Winchester knows two things about hockey, two things his dad made sure he knew. One, hockey is a guy’s sport, and two, hockey is family. Hockey meant Sam and Bobby and Benny and Victor and Gabriel and hell, his entire team. So when Victor gets traded, Russian-star-turned-new-teammate Castiel Krushnic becomes a threat. As much as Dean hates him for that, the longer he sticks around, the more he begins to threaten that first rule too. Dean’s been taught his whole life that those who play hockey should not be captivated by deep accented voices and the way a guy handles his stick, so how the hell is he supposed to justify what he’s starting to think about Cas? All Dean wanted at the beginning of the season was to win, and now all he wants to do is figure out how he feels about Cas and how to deal with it without ruining his career and tearing his family apart. “

Ah, three of my absolute favourite things smashed into the same fic: sports, slow burn and enemies to lovers. This fic has lots of cameos from supernatural characters, because hockey teams require lots of players. So it is easy to spot your favorite character in this fic. This fic is probably one of may favorites, because of the sport environment (Outside the fandom, I have been super into sports. Like so much I have several national championships medals from my sport. Anyway, not a point here): also the sexual tension between Dean and Cas is so good, especially when they are pumped with the adrenaline. You don’t really need to understand sports to enjoy this fic, though. Word count: 143,592. Explicit

Formula Won by cardinalwrites

“Of all the places Castiel Novak thought he would take in his career, an internship as a Formula One Paddock Correspondent (or journalist, for short) was most definitely not one of them for a few reasons. One: He had no clue what the hell Formula One was. Two: He knew nothing about sports in general. And Three: He should not fall in love with the people he’s supposed to be asking hard-hitting questions to, least of all the head driver of one of the oldest and most well-renowned teams in the sport’s history.

This is a love story told around the world through the eyes of the person that knows the least about where he has found himself in. Come follow a 20-race season finding love in the lost, learning the truth, and figuring out what the hell Formula One is along the way.”

Another sports fic with a slow burn. This is probably not everyone’s cup of tea, because there is quite a lot information about formula one, and the reading experience is more enjoyable if already know about formulas/do your research. Don’t let it stop you though, because this fic is very good. The friendship between Dean and Cas is very natural, and later the romance as well. The plot is very engaging and the drama inside the formula one organization is so good. This fic is also not so “heavy” as the other ones in my list (of course, there are problems along the way, but even the fic’s tags say there will be fluff). The rating is T, which is kinda surprising, because I did not notice it until I already had read the whole fic. Word count: 123,777. Teen

Have Love, Will Travel by squeemonster

Castiel Novak is a reclusive writer with a childhood so tragic it's left him terrified to leave his home—until his overbearing brother, Gabriel, drags him out for a night on the town full of booze and strip clubs, and he encounters Dean Winchester, a mesmerizing and mysterious stripper with secrets of his own. Both men find themselves inexplicably drawn to each other, and soon Dean's private dances for Castiel become much more, as both men confess their troubles and find solace in each other's company. But neither can seem to find the courage to take their relationship further than the intimacy of the club's VIP Room—and just when Dean's own brother gives him the excuse he needs to finally admit his feelings, Dean discovers something that brings it all crumbling down. Will they find a way past their demons and their trust issues, and back to each other?

This is one of the fandom classics and quite rightfully so. Both Dean and Cas have issues, in other words: what’s new? The sexual chemistry between them was so good and well written, but there is also angst and mental health issues (mostly Cas). Sam is quite young in this fic, but manages to be very much a little brother. I honestly loved this fic when I was a bit younger, but I think it is still very good and deserves its place in this list. Word count 94,054. Explicit

Pick It All Up by thepinupchemist

Army veteran Castiel Novak is a wreck after his tour in Afghanistan, brought home to his brother's apartment in Lawrence, Kansas with scars both mental and physical. He copes poorly, and during one night of bad decision making, meets somebody just as much of a disaster as he is -- a prostitute named Dean Winchester. And suddenly, two damaged men might not be as irreparable as they believed.

Ah, it seems that I’m incapable of picking nice, fluffy, happy fanfics. This certainly is not one of them. There is full warnings in the tags, because there is some triggering stuff: PTSD, mentions of past abuse, alcoholism etc. But, this is also very healing story in its own way (It has happy ending. I guess I can spoil that because it reads in the tags) . I avoided this fic for a long time, because the prostitute!Dean tag scared me away, but this was so worth of reading (as I said, happy ending)! Gabriel is super supportive and sweet brother and Dean and Cas are dysfunctional but they work so well despite all the trauma they have endured. Word count: 126,611. Explicit

Bonus: Twist and Shout by gabriel and standbyme

What begins as a transforming love between Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak in the summer of 1965 quickly derails into something far more tumultuous when Dean is drafted in the Vietnam War. Though the two both voice their relationship is one where saying goodbye is never a real truth, their story becomes fraught with the tragedy of circumstance. In an era where homosexuality was especially vulnerable, Twist and Shout is the story of the love transcending time, returning over and over in its many forms, as faithful as the sea.

Well, I don’t think this fic needs any introductions. This is the fic, the most popular in SPN fandom and one of the most popular ones in the whole ao3. I thought that I could read this, because I don’t generally have many triggers, despite all the warnings. I was a wreck during reading. And I have managed to read it once and I can’t make myself read it again. But it is good and amazingly written. This fic plucks every emotion out of you and does anything it pleases with them. You have been warned. Word count: 97,556. Explicit

(When I wrote this fic rec I also realised I have a serious problem with long fics. Like, most of my favorites are at least 100,000 words. At this point I think I don’t even consider a fic to be slow burn, unless it takes several days to complete the fic. Oops)

#supernatural fic rec #destiel fic rec #supernatural fanfiction #destiel fanfiction #destiel slow burn #supernatural #destiel

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mcwriting · 4 years

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The Marriage Project (1)

Omg I can’t believe it’s taken me THIS long to post this. I wrote this chapter probably in like April or May and it freaks me out to finally post but here it is!

My slow burn (American) High School AU with Tom Holland!

All the general info for this series is on the story masterlist, but I’ll list warnings and word counts on every chapter. Chapters will be much longer than my typical 2000 or less babies

Warnings: This will become a mature story in the future (no smut; more info on masterlist). Some profanity in this chapter

Word Count: 4140 (I told you!)

% approximately the 2nd week of August %

Ah, senior year. One last year of high school, one last year of seeing the people you’ve grown up with every day.

You’ve been told it’s easy. The best year ever. And yeah, maybe it will be. It’s not like you’re taking too many hard classes or overloading yourself with extracurriculars, aside from volleyball, soccer, the National Honors Society, and quiz bowl.

(Okay maybe it was a little much, but you loved it anyways)

The only real problem was the certified thorn in your side, Tom Holland.

He’d essentially been your mortal enemy since the sixth grade when he beat your mile time by only a few seconds.

Now, it’s not that he was a bully or anything, he was just so insufferable to be around. And yes, everyone always says boys pick on girls when they like them, but rest assured that wasn’t the case. You’d both always hated each other, nothing more.

You were always competing, and because of that ended up in the same place a lot.

He was in all your honors classes, in NHS, played boys soccer, and did quiz bowl. The only thing you had to yourself was volleyball except, oh wait, his younger brother’s girlfriend was on the team and Tom was his ride home every day.

All these thoughts raced through your head as you walked in on the first day, sitting down in AP calculus as soon as you finished up at your locker.

Everyone did the “how was your summer?” and “long time no see!” as students filed in. Eventually walked in Tom, and you shot each other a glare as he sat down right next to you.

“Holland.”

“Y/l/n.”

Everyone around you groaned. They all knew you two were forces to be reckoned with and probably dreaded spending another year listening to the two of you bicker everyday.

Though you were often in close proximity, you never really talked much, except to argue. Rarely did you agree unless it was on basic facts, and even then was it hard to admit sometimes.

Because of this, you typically resigned yourselves to only speaking when it came to grades so you could keep a mental tally of who was in the lead. You were both in the running for valedictorian at the end of the year, and you were not about to let Tom win.

The week was almost over and things had gone smoothly for the most part.

Sure, you and Tom had had a couple of spats, but nothing that wasn’t handled quickly.

He’d been to all of your volleyball games so far, even the summer ones, which meant he was forced to watch you dominate the court as both a setter and right side hitter.

It was a nice little satisfaction.

Especially because you’d watched him throw some horrendous passes in the preseason football game last week that led to a loss by one touchdown. (Okay, he’d had some good passes too, but they were lucky shots).

You settled into your seat in senior home economics Friday before lunch. The class was your school’s attempt at teaching some life skills for rising adults. For the most part however, it was a glorified cooking and sewing class. You didn’t mind per say, since you could cook up a pre-snack lunch sometimes.

Most of your friends were in there, including your best friend Alexis, whom you hadn’t seen all morning.

You, Alexis, and two other girls stood around a mixing bowl with the ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies since it was a Friday, which Mrs. Flynn called “dessert day.”

“Oh! Before I forget,” your teacher, Mrs. Flynn, started getting everyone’s attention. “This year we’re doing something new for this class! Next week I’ll have you all split into pairs for a semester long marriage project! I will be drawing names out of a hat, so don’t get too comfortable yet. Anyways, be thinking on what kinds of careers you might want and things of that nature! Okay, now get back to your desserts!”

The whole room broke out into chatter the last part of the hour-and-a-half class, people speculating who might end up with who and what jobs they’ll get.

“Oh my God, wouldn’t it be funny if y/n got Tom?” Alexis stated as you stirred chocolate chips into the dough. The other girls laughed as you just snorted.

“Yeah, I’d rather lick the inside of the microwave than be paired up with him for a semester,” you replied, earning more laughter from your friends.

You assumed Tom’s friends were saying the same however, because when you looked over to see how bad their dough looked, he was rolling his eyes as his group pointed in your direction.

The next week came and went, and it was once again Friday. Or, as Mrs. Flynn was calling it, Wedding Day.

Every time she’d pull a couple’s name, she was going to make you both come to the front of the class and exchange plastic wedding rings and sign a fake marriage license.

Yay.

Everyone chattered excitedly as she tore up the strips with your names and mixed them around. Finally the time came for her to start the drawing.

“Okay, friends. First up we have...” she drew the first name. “Katherine and... drumroll please?”

The class drummed their hands over their thighs.

“Chris! Come on down folks, let’s get this marriage on!”

She “married” the first couple, and then continued to draw. You had to admit that you were a little nervous, but still eager to see who you’d get.

Two couples later, she pulled Tom’s name.

You shot him an eyebrow raise to which he returned a discreet middle finger. You rolled your eyes as you prepared a drumroll for Mrs. Flynn.

“And his lucky partner is... y/n!”

“What!” you both exclaimed simultaneously.

Almost the entire class burst into laughter.

“Mrs. Flynn, this has to be a mistake,” you said.

“Yeah, can’t we have a redraw?” Tom asked.

You hated that he was agreeing with you.

“Nope! You get who you get and you don’t throw a fit! And if it doesn’t work out in a few weeks we can discuss divorce plans.”

“How about annulments,” you stated dryly, earning a chuckle from her.

“That… kinda depends on if you have kids,” she trailed awkwardly before perking back up. “Now come on down! They always say your first marriage is the most memorable!”

“Who has ever said that?” Tom asked.

“You know. They. Now just get up here and do the ring thing!” she commanded.

You both sulked up to the front of the room.

“Okay, now stand here facing each other and hold hands.”

“Do we have to?” Tom whined.

“Yes, now do it and it’ll be over with faster.”

He groaned, rolled his eyes, and grabbed your hands, holding them loosely.

“May I have the rings please!” Mrs. Flynn asked Caroline, the girl whose desk was closest that she’d asked to be designated ring bearer. She handed over the basket to let you both choose from the mix.

You took a silver colored ring with a faux white diamond in the shape of a star. Tom chose one with an oval “ruby.” You couldn’t help but notice how every single person was on edge watching the two of you.

“Okay now Tom, repeat after me. I, Tom Holland, take thee, y/n y/l/n, to be my wedded wife to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”

He mumbled through the vow, avoiding eye contact, and slipped your star ring onto your finger. You were surprised at how gentle he was, carefully caressing your hand and making sure the ring faced straight up once it was on your finger.

You, too, said the lines and placed the ring onto his left hand.

“Alright. It is with the power vested in me by this very school that I am proud to now pronounce you husband and wife! You may now air kiss!”

You took a deep sigh and pretended to kiss each other's cheeks.

“Class, I’d like to introduce you all to Mr. and Mrs. Holland!”

They began to cheer and clap and laugh when you interjected.

“Uh, no. It’s Mr. and Mrs. y/l/n.”

Tom began to argue with you when Mrs. Flynn stopped you both.

“Alright fine, we’ll do a combined name. How’s the y/l/n-Holland family sound?” she asked, writing your names on the fake marriage certificate.

With reluctance, Tom agreed to having your name first and you both signed the paper.

Finally you were able to sit back down where your friends were waiting.

“So what was that about licking the microwave?” Alexis asked.

“Oh shut up.”

After your volleyball game (another win!), you and Alexis conversed over cheese fries at your favorite diner.

“Still not ready to talk about today?” she asked. You shook your head.

Alexis had been paired up with Caroline. They were both straight, but you had both been friends with her since freshman year and they got along well.

Today had just been the marriages, and next week you’d be learning more about your family dynamics.

“I’m just so pissed at him. This afternoon in senior art he told all the guys in there that he was going to make it as hard as possible for me. I mean jokes on him, he’s going to want to get an A too, but he was just so smug about it. He also strung his stupid ring on that necklace he’s always wearing. What’s that all about?”

“I mean you’re still wearing your ring. But yeah, that is a little weird.”

“I’m wearing mine because compared to some of the others, the star is actually cute.”

“True. I got unlucky with the selection,” Alexis admitted, digging hers out of her purse to show you a big square blue gem.

“I just wish there was a way to get back at him after all these years. I mean, we’ve been at each other’s throats for almost six years but nothing has ever seemed to really hit hard. This is the last year I’ve got to really make it count.”

Alexis gave you a look, one you knew to be quite mischievous.

“You know what’s the best way to get revenge on a guy?” Alexis asked.

“Uh, no, but by the look you’re giving me it seems to fall under Carrie Underwood ’before he cheats’ directive.”

“No, dumbass. You make his family fall in love with you.”

It took a second to process what she said before you could give a decent reply.

“You’re kidding right? His family already knows who I am because of all the stuff we’re in together. They probably also know about our rivalry. I mean, he’s told his brothers to never become friends with me.”

“And you know that, how?”

“The libero is Sam’s girlfriend. She’s been spilling tea for me for the past year.”

There was a break in the conversation as the waiter brought your meals out. Once he was gone, you spoke up again.

“Look, do you really think that would work? I mean sure I’d get under his skin, but it doesn’t really constitute revenge, does it?”

“Look at it this way,” Alexis put down her burger so she could splay her hands out in front of her. “If you can get on everyone else's good side, they’ll all talk about how much they love you and he’ll be forced to listen. If he really hates you, it’ll drive him crazy.”

You thought on it for a minute as you chomped on a chicken tender.

“Alright, I’m in. If it doesn’t end up working, I still have all of next semester to mess with him anyways. Now if I can just figure out how to really get to know his family…”

By the time Monday rolled around, you and Alexis had done some more scheming, but your plan wouldn’t even begin to be put in action until your volleyball games Wednesday and Friday, when you’d try to talk to Sam.

You sat down in home ec, where today you’d be picking careers. The catch, however, was that your family unit would have a set income, so each couple had to decide how it would be split up.

“Y/l/n-Holland family, you’ll be making $200k a year,” Mrs. Flynn announced, handing you the slip of paper. “Get together and decide who’s getting what jobs.”

“At least we’ll be rich,” you thought as Tom plopped into the seat next to you unhappily.

“So I’ll be the doctor and you’ll be the trophy wife, right?” he asked immediately.

“Hah, good one. I think we all know that I’m the smarter one here and wayyyy more likely to get into med school than you. And don’t call me trophy wife. I mean, what, you think I’m hot now? Can’t wait to tell everyone that little number.”

His ears turned beet red and he balled a fist.

“I don’t think you’re hot, except maybe hot shit. It’s a figure of speech.” he spat.

“Oh get over yourself. I know I’m hot anyways. Let’s just both pick jobs that earn $100k so we can be equal. How’s that sound?”

“Fine.”

He played with the plastic ring on his necklace as you looked up jobs on the computer. After a half hour of searching, Tom and you decided that to be fully equal, you’d both take the same job as physician’s assistants.

“Just so you know, I’ll never actually be anyone’s assistant,” he said.

“Oh yeah? Ten years time if you’re lucky I’ll hire you as mine.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Hey everyone, since class is almost over, we’re gonna wait to draw how many kids you’ll have and other financial things Wednesday. See you then!” Mrs. Flynn called out as students packed their things.

“We have to have kids, too?” Tom asked incredulously.

“Good thing it’s fake. I’d hate to see you as a parent,” you shot smugly, earning another middle finger from him that left you laughing.

Wednesday came kids, and thankfully all you got were twin girls, age 9. The project didn’t make you carry around flour babies or anything like that, you just had to account for them in your weekly budgets.

There goes the annulment plan, though.

Each week, Mrs. Flynn would be drawing something new for you all that would either be good or bad for your budgets, and it was up to you to figure out what to with the funding, or lack thereof. You also had to come up with a story each week that explained why money was put somewhere or what your “family” did that week.

She would also be doing progress checks, so you couldn’t wait until the end of the semester to do all the work. By the end, each couple would have to give a presentation over what they did and learned.

“Okay, so we each get to name one. That’s pretty equal,” you stated, thinking up baby names.

“Well I like Elizabeth,” he almost immediately replied, writing it down on one of the “birth certificates” you’d been handed by Mrs. Flynn.

“That’s… surprisingly good. I’ll go with Francesca. What about middle names? I like Rose.”

“Hm. How about Opal? Then they’ll have the same number of letters in their names.”

You were surprised at how much though he put into this, but let it go as you wrote your child’s name down.

“By the way, we need to plan time to get together and write a budget and find a house this weekend. I have a volleyball game Friday so how about Saturday?”

“I have football practice Saturday.”

“Well yeah but only until like 10 right? We could just meet at like 1. We’re doing construction at my house right now so could we do it at yours?”

You spoke sweetly in an attempt to receive a yes and put your plan into motion. Tom sighed and thought about it.

“I mean I guess. But you’re only going to be there to work on the project and then leave right?”

“Uh, duh. The less time with you the better.”

“Likewise.”

Tom and Sam weren’t at the volleyball game Wednesday, so you had to wait until Friday’s.

Friday was muffin day in home ec, so you thankfully didn’t have to talk to Tom. Instead, you and Alexis discussed the plan of getting Tom’s family on your side as you mixed up batter.

Later that afternoon, you watched from afar as Sam and his girlfriend, Julia, sat on the bleachers speaking. It was still an hour until game time and coach had asked you to round up the girls for stretching.

“Hey, Jules!” you called, jogging over to where she was. “Oh, hey Sam!” He looked at you like you were crazy before responding.

“Uh, hey y/n.” He gave a slight head nod.

“Anyways, coach wants us to start warming up. Wanna be my partner today?”

“Um yeah. Sure. See ya later babe,” she said, giving Sam a quick peck on the cheek before standing up to follow you.

After another win, you were helping take down the net and noticed Julia once again talking to Sam while Tom stood a few feet away looking bored.

“Hey, could you wrap up the net? I need to do something real quick,” you said to another teammate as you headed over.

“Hey, Jules! Solid digs today! You were making my job way too easy,” you joked.

You could see from the corner of your eye Tom look up at you in annoyance.

“Ahaha thanks girl. But I can’t take all the credit. You were on fire tonight. What was that like 15 aces? And your hits? Incredible,” she replied.

“Yeah, you were amazing tonight,” Sam added.

“Ohhhkay we can stop the compliment parade on y/n now. We need to go anyways, Sam, mom wants us home,” Tom interjected, putting an arm out in front of his brother, who was rolling his eyes.

“Alright fine. We still on for dinner tomorrow?” Sam asked his girlfriend. She nodded and they exchanged a quick hug and kiss.

“I’ll see you tomorrow too, Tom,” you said. “I’ll bring my laptop.”

Sam looked at him in confusion.

“Yeah whatever,” was all Tom could say to you as you strutted off to the locker room.

You stood nervously on the front porch of Tom’s suburban home. You had texted him when you parked but now dreaded actually going inside.

After shifting back and forth for a minute, you finally rang the doorbell.

It was only a few seconds later that the door opened, revealing Sam’s twin Harry. He looked confused.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?”

“Hey Harry. Tom and I are supposed to be working on a school project today and he said to come over at this time so...” You awkwardly shifted your backpack straps and looked down.

“Tom! Someone’s here to see you!” he yelled out, making you snort.

He appeared shirtless in the doorway and looked at you blankly.

“Oh. It’s just you.”

“Just me? What did you just forget that we have to work on our project today,” you replied, holding up your left hand to point to the plastic ring on it.

“You’re still wearing that? Why?”

“Firstly, the little star is cute. And secondly, you don’t have a lot of room to speak, Tom. Yours is still on your necklace,” you pointed to the chain around his neck, to which he instinctively reached up and grabbed the ring, twisting it between his fingers.

“Touche. Now come on, let’s just get this over with.” He opened the door wider and let you in, locking it behind you.

As he led you down a hall covered in photos towards the stairs, his mom stepped out, almost running into her son.

“Oh, sorry.” she looked at you, “Y/n? What are you doing here? It’s nice to see you.”

“Nice to see you too, Mrs. Holland. Tom and I have to work on our home ec project and we couldn’t do it at my house.”

“Oh dear just call me Nikki. And I do remember him mentioning something about a project. Are you the one he’s married to? I never thought I’d see the day.”

Tom tensed up and clenched his jaw while you gave a light chuckle, holding up your left hand again.

“I hate to say it, but yeah. You’ll probably be seeing a lot more of me throughout the semester.”

“Well you kids have fun. And Tom, honey, would it kill you to put on a shirt?”

He went red again and you had to stifle your laughter.

“I was just on my way to do that, mom. Come on y/n,” he mumbled, grabbing your wrist and dragging you up the stairs.

You turned and waved at Nikki one last time as she called up behind him,

“And make sure to keep the door open!”

He was totally embarrassed by that, and made it a point to shut the door behind him once you made it to his room. Finally you could let out a hearty laugh at his expense as he dug through his drawers and pulled out a simple black t-shirt.

“Finally. I was getting tired of looking at your man boobs,” you quipped, looking around the room.

“Ha ha. Good one,” he shot back dryly.

You were surprised at what his room looked like, though you didn’t know what you’d expected. It was very neat with sleek grey walls. His blue and grey bedding was made up with decorative pillows laid out. On his desk were a few random school papers and a computer, and one shelf held some Spider-Man paraphernalia while another contained medals and ribbons and trophies.

You dropped your backpack to the ground and pointed up at one figurine.

“Hey, that’s pretty cool,” you said sincerely.

“Yeah, I’m sure you think so,” he replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“Uh, no. I’m serious. It’s actually really dope.”

He looked taken aback at your compliment, and even to you it felt weird to be saying that out loud about Tom of all people.

“Oh. Well uh. Thanks. Spider-Man was my favorite growing up. But let’s just get to work.”

After an hour of sitting on his carpet searching for a house and arguing over general money allocations,

“Yes Tom, tampons actually cost like $7 for 30 of them and most girls need at least one box a month. And that’s just one factor of personal hygiene. Do you even condition your hair?”

“I’ll have you know my hair is well moisturized. I just don’t ever have to pay for it.”

You finally came to an agreement on the week’s budget.

Packing up your things, you looked up at Tom who was now sitting on the side of his bed scrolling through social media.

“So next week. Your first game of the season, yeah?” you said, remembering that September was already almost here.

“Oh yeah. You coming? I’d hate for you to see just how incredible I am.”

“Psh whatever. I saw your throws at preseason. But yeah, I’ll probably just rinse off after my volleyball game and head to the field. Gotta see what cuties they’ve got on the other team.”

“Ugh gross. You know you’ll regret saying that when half the school is swooning over me in the stands.”

“The only thing you’d ever see me swoon from is dehydration. And that’s a pretty weak excuse already.”

You stood and Tom got up to lead you back out.

“Oh, I think I know the way. You don’t have to take me.”

“Yeah I do. Gotta keep my eyes on those grubby little fingers of yours. Who knows what you’d do unsupervised.”

Before you reached the door, Nikki spotted you from the living room.

“Done so soon? Wow, good job guys. Come back any time y/n!”

“Thanks, Nikki,” you called back to her, then turned to Tom. “So same time next week? We can do it at my place if you want.”

“Nah let’s just do it here. I’m always exhausted the day after a game and I don’t really want to get up.”

Okay then

“Well, see ya Monday then. Bye.”

You were halfway down the sidewalk when Tom called out, “Be safe,” before shutting the door. You stopped in your tracks in shock, but eventually got into your car.

What really mattered, though, was that you were already on Nikki’s good side.

1 down, 4 to go.

Yay! It’s finished! I really hope you guys enjoy this new series because I’m so excited to share it with you all! Once again, future chapters will have some mature content (s*xual harassment and mentions of assault; underaged alcohol consumption) but those chapters will be explicitly labeled with warnings.

Anyways, thanks for reading and please send an ask or message if you’d like to join my story or permanent tag list!

Tag List: @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl,

#The Marriage Project #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #enemies to lovers #slow burn #Harry Holland #sam holland #tom holland au #high school!au #high school!tom holland

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women-inthe-sequel · 3 years

Text

Braid (fem!Jily)

Thanks to @theroomofreq for the prompt!

This is for @alrightginger, who manages to be the best co-writer, one of my favorite writers, and my best friend at the same time.

also available on ao3

"Can I braid your hair?"

Jamie blinks. Once. Twice. Three times, just to be sure.

“What?”

“Can I braid your hair?” Lily asks again.

Her finger marks a place on the page in front of her, but she isn’t looking at the book. Lily’s green gaze is solidly on Jamie, making her feel a little too warm for her jumper.

“You don’t -” Jamie starts, tugging on her collar. “I mean, don’t feel like you have to -”

“Is it getting in the way? You keep tucking it behind your ear.”

The warmth moves from Jamie’s chest to the back of her neck. She resists the urge to rub it like she often does when she starts to get nervous. Not many things make Jamie nervous, but Lily is certainly one of them.

“It’s all right, Evans,” she mumbles.

“I know it’s all right, but I can fix it. Here.” Lily gets up from her seat and, in another motion Jamie can’t quite believe, pushes herself up so she is sitting on the table. She twists to face Jamie and makes an impatient spinning motion with her pointer finger. “Turn around.”

Jamie Potter can do many things. She can throw a quaffle almost anywhere on the far end of the pitch and make a goal. She can plan game strategies and Transfiguration theory in her head at the same time.

But she can’t disobey Lily Evans when she says something like that.

With no other warning, Lily’s fingers are in her hair in an instant, gently brushing through the small snags. When she’s satisfied, she sweeps it into a low ponytail, holds it for a few seconds with one hand, and then starts to separate it into three sections.

Jamie has to swallow to keep herself from saying anything too embarrassing.

Maybe it’s better that she doesn’t say anything at all.

What is she supposed to do when the girl she’s been a little in love with since third year is running her fingers through her hair?

“You looked a little distracted,” Lily says once she’s started to braid. Her fingers brush against the top of Jamie’s ears. “Maybe I can help.”

Can she feel the way Jamie is blushing?

“We’re studying,” Jamie says, looking down at her hands. They shake slightly, so she presses them together. “I’m bound to get distracted.”

Lily hums an unconvinced response.

“What’s distracting you, Jamie Potter?”

Jamie has studied Lily Evans long enough to know when she’s smiling. Through the years, she’s been able to catalog the many moods of Lily. Jamie doesn’t have to see her face to know what expression she has. The tone is enough to hold important clues. If she turned around, Jamie knows she would see Lily with that secretive little smile that’s almost a smirk.

Plenty of other people wouldn’t even know she’s capable of it, but Jamie has caught it several times. It’s the smile-smirk she has when she thinks her own joke is funny. The one she tries to hide when she doesn’t want to admit that Sirius almost made her laugh.

The one she uses when she’s teasing Mary on the couch in the common room.

Wait.

Is Lily Evans teasing her?

“What do you think, Evans?”

The space between Jamie’s reply and Lily’s answer might only be a second, but time stands still for Jamie. Years of stolen glances and building their friendship hang in front of her.

Did she misread? Has she spent so long waiting for any sign from Lily that she jumped too soon? Has she put away the most insufferable parts of herself, the parts she has tried to change for the better, just to bring them back out at the worst time?

Lily Evans couldn’t have been teasing her.

She’s made up the whole thing. Jamie should write this off as a joke and go back to what they were. She can be Lily’s friend. She can study with her and laugh with her and -

Lily’s fingers move from Jamie’s hair to her chin. A feather could knock Jamie over if that feather was named Lily Evans, so it doesn’t take much pressure to make her turn her head. Lily’s gaze meets hers again, and Jamie worries that she’s forgotten how to breathe.

Even if Lily Evans never teases her, if something goes horribly wrong and they never speak again, Jamie Potter doesn’t think she’s ever going to get over Lily Evans.

“You’re very distracting,” Lily whispers.

In that instant, Jamie loses any ability to make sense of her thoughts.

They become even more scrambled, which Jamie wouldn’t have thought possible until now, when Lily bends to kiss her.

The feel of Lily’s mouth on hers, a little hesitant under the courage it must have taken to act, is enough to restart her brain.

Jamie reaches for her.

She isn’t sure this is real, but she’s not going to waste a moment of it. Lily’s hair is soft as it slides between her fingers. She tastes like the minty toothpaste she always leaves on the sink in the girls’ dormitory and smells like sweet vanilla.

Jamie’s senses are all Lily, Lily, Lily, but she doesn’t try to shove it away this time.

Lily makes a quiet moan against Jamie’s lips that goes straight to a new warmth that is building below her stomach. She turns to move fully onto the table, her hands abandoning the back of Jamie’s head to thread through the hair behind her ears. Their movements work together, tugging them closer when they both open their mouths at the same time to deepen the kiss.

The moan turns into a gasp that might be the best thing Jamie’s ever heard.

Lily moves her knees onto the table, forgoing any library rules about climbing on the furniture. The thought crosses Jamie’s mind that she could put her hands on either side of Lily and pull her into her lap. So easily, she could...

A book skids across the table and lands on the floor with a muffled thud.

That brings them both back to reality.

Their heavy breathing is the only thing Jamie can hear when they pull away. The world is red hair and green eyes and everything Lily Evans. Her heart and thoughts are racing, rushing past Is this really happening to I need to do that again.

Jamie and Lily keep their eyes fixed on each other, noting the changes from the past few minutes. Not much time has passed, but everything is different. Lily’s lips are red, and Jamie finds it nearly impossible to keep her gaze from straying to them. When Lily’s hands drop from Jamie, her hair hangs by her neck, the braid undone.

“You’re, um,” Jamie tries. She clears her throat. “You’re pretty distracting yourself, Evans,”

Honestly, she’s impressed with her own ability to string together a sentence.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jamie confirms.

The smirk-smile comes back. Jamie’s pulse races, and that’s it. She’s absolutely never going to get over Lily Evans.

“Maybe we should move our studying to the dormitory?”

The heat inside Jamie sparks into a fire. Catching Lily’s hand in hers, she helps her find her footing on the ground again. Jamie can feel herself grinning but can’t do anything to stop it.

She doesn’t want to do anything to stop it.

“All right, Evans,” Jamie says. “Let’s study.”

#marieka writes #jily #james potter #lily evans #fem!jily #female james potter #canonverse #friends to lovers #study date

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danddymaro · 4 years

Text

Young and in Love |Polnareff x Reader

Pairing: Jean Pierre Polnareff x Reader | Word count : 1464

The silver-haired male stared at the young woman, his blue eyes finding themselves wandering to her so often that it had become noticeable to everyone else in the group, herself included.

In fact, it was now expected.

She was well aware of his trained eyes, but she kept quiet. For one, she didn't know where to begin, or how to confront him on the matter. There was that, and the fact that admittedly, she did like it, and wasn't too keen on making him stop.

She soaked up every bit of his attention she could get, a present bloom of soft pink plastered over her face as she tried to play down the smile on her face. And she couldn’t help the expression from forming, not having the power to control it.

‘He’s doing it again,’ She said to herself, excited of course.

She liked having the Frenchman's eyes glued to her, watching her like she was a moving masterpiece, a wondrous work of art that had somehow gained the ability to walk and venture freely.

It wasn't lecherous, nor off-putting, and she’d never felt as beautiful as when he looked at her,

‘Oh, Polnareff,’ she thought while sighing softly. 'Do you like me?' she wondered, 'Do you think I'm special?' she went on.

'Am I pretty to you?'

She wondered just what made him stare so much, 'Is there something about my face that's different? Is that good? Or is it bad?'

Swallowing thickly she inched closer, a nonchalant whistle blown to the side as she came just A bit closer, testing her luck.

Earlier, Hol Horse, the cheeky gunslinger had called her Honey as well as given her a flirty wink before he retreated, promising he'd be back for her later on.

'That sure set him off,' She mused, recalling the encounter.

She swears she saw the Frenchman turn his reddest, words that were foreign to her, but no doubt obscenities, flying out of his mouth as he chased the blonde out of sight, his stand aimed to draw blood.

She was tickled pink to see him defend her in such a way, protective over her, fighting off another man for even being suggestive with her.

She almost hoped he came back just to get the same rise out of the charming man.

"Ah, Polnareff?" she said softly, turning to him slowly, her (e/c) eyes meeting his just as she turned, a result of having him already gazing at her.

He instantly bloomed with soft pink, the color staining his pale skin cutely, almost innocently.

“Oh! Yeah?” He said caught off guard, slightly leering down towards her, eyes glued to the soft lips which moved right before him,

‘I was thinking we could share a room this time…’ She thought to herself, wanting to tell him, but having all the words knot up in her throat.

Hoarsely, and below her breath she muttered the request, grimacing as she let it out in the open, knowing just how it sounded.

“Huh? What was that?” he asked confused, looking completely at a loss, not having heard anything but incoherent huffs and short mutters.

“O-oh!...it was nothing important,” (f/n) said hurriedly, refusing to repeat herself, picking up her pace instead,

‘Maybe it’s better you weren’t listening!’ she reasoned with herself, shaking her head with defiance. ' I mean what was I thinking! ' she thought with a blazed face, ' I can't just go and ask something like that! ' she internally screamed.

‘But I mean, it’s not like I was planning to do anything either!’ she went on to convince herself. ‘ I was just thinking about budgeting...budgeting … cash…To save money!’

Seeing her face filled with worry, he heaved largely, shaking his head just as quickly as she was hers, catching up to her urgently, “Non, Non, Non, Ma chérie! Mon amour !” He said anxiously, “ I didn’t mean to ignore you...Honest, it wasn't deliberate,” he assured her.

He began to walk in front of her, taking backward steps while they continued to move, keeping up with the rest for the crew.

"You must believe me, " he added with sincerity.

‘Ah again with those names…’ She thought to herself, feeling her heart race, 'It doesn't help one bit!'

She wasn't fluent in the language, but she knew damn well what the little endearments meant,

' He's just flirty…he'd call any girl that,' she thought while trying not to stare at the beautiful man in front of her. She tried to take away from the lovely feeling she felt when he called her that by reasoning that it was just something he said to just about every woman he came in contact with.

'Oh come on! Then why else would he always gawk at you? 'Her inner voice rebelled. ' Why else would he call you that!'

'And he worries so much,' she added, 'He goes completely ballistic every time you're in danger,'

Much more, 'He hasn't even talked to another woman, much less stared at them for longer than a fraction of a second.'

All in all, he was completely devoted to her, something the (h/c) haired young woman had trouble processing.

But deep in her heart, she knew.

For just a moment, they stopped, and sweetly, he moved the (h/c) strands that obscured her face aside, " Please tell me, you seem troubled." He said with a low, murmur.

'Oh, what the hell, ' She thought while looking up at him (e/c) eyes putting him in a trance.

"I was wondering if, maybe...Polnareff would you share a room with me?" She asked, watching the question slowly fall onto him.

His eyes opened wide, and again his face glowed, a darker rouge covering his entire face, reaching his ears,

"(f/n)" He said swallowing thickly.

'Could this be just a dream?' He wondered.

"I mean, it's just... instead of having a room of my own, we could lower the cost by sharing one " She explained, though sounding bashful, that clearly not being the only reason to her offer.

"Maybe...we can also share a bed..." she added meekly.

Absentmindedly he pressed his index fingers together, " O-of course," he replied back, "It makes perfect sense to me," he told her.

“We could sleep together, that way...that way we can cover each other's backs,” he added chuckling nervously.

Agreeing, she smiled cutely.

‘Maybe i’ll have a nightmare,’ She thought to herself, ‘ And then I can crawl into those big, strong arms,’ She gushed, thinking of the scenario.

“What if it’s too cold?’ he wondered, ‘We might not have enough blankets, and I suppose we could cuddle... just to stay comfortable,’ He reasoned, wanting nightfall to come already.

She then seemed startled, staring wide-eyed at him, " We have to catch up!" she reminded him, pulling him by the wrist, hastily falling back in line with the rest of the travelers.

...........................................................................................

“Good Grief,” Jotaro muttered to himself, quickening his pace, not wanting to lag behind with the two, dreading being stuck between their insufferable flirting.

He’d rather have the old man ramble his ear off than go on another minute with the lovie-dovie saccharine behavior of the couple who weren't really a couple.

Who were ' just friends '

‘And what’s more annoying…’ He thought to himself, eyes discreetly trailing back to them to see the two touching hands, fingers twitching to take hold of each other.

They clearly wanted to touch…

They clearly wanted to do such more…

“Tch,” He clicked his teeth, the sound making his grandfather chuckle, “ Cute isn’t it? “ Joseph asked grinning, indiscreetly pointing his thumb back to the two trailing behind.

They wouldn't take notice any time soon because it wasn't like anything else really mattered to them at the moment, so why be coy?

“To be young and in love,” The Joestar added with a musing tone, thinking back to the moments in his own youth.

“It’s fucking annoying,” Kujo said lowly, something Kakyoin overheard and decided to butt into, his pace matching the other two men.

Giggling he put a hand on the tall brooding male’s shoulder, “Don’t tell me you’re jealous there Jotaro,”

A very small shiver went through Jotaro’s body, a tremor Noriyaki could feel, and gloated about just as it was released,

"Ohoho?" Kakyoin sounded playfully. “You are!” he added with mock surprise.

“ Jealous about what?” Jotaro grumbled, his hand pulling down his hat to obscure his face more.

"She's cute," Kakyoin pointed out, "Didn't you say tha-"

"Shut the hell up," Kujo said stiffly, his face burning with embarrassment, his long legs moving faster, escaping the two men aside him.

He mentioned it one time...Just once.

“We’re here,” he added with a huff, pointing his finger up to their Hotel. Laughing, the two males followed in suit.

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afandommultiverse · 4 years

Text

The Gift - Leopold Vermillion

Words - 2006 Request - TreueHyuga

A/n - I hope you enjoy it! I had a really fun time writing this one! Leopold is aged up to 18! So, so are you lol.

Y/n POV

"Come to think of it, your birthday is coming up, isn't it, Y/n?" Leopold grinned wolfishly at his girlfriend, pumped with excitement and happiness due to the celebration around them, the celebration for him! His birthday, his coming of age day.

"It is, Leo, why are you gonna plan a surprise party for me too?" You lured him close giving him a smooch on the cheek. It was you who planned the whole thing for Leopold tonight, the director of the whole galant party. It was a great surprise party, Leopold hadn't suspected a thing, some can choose whether that's a good or bad thing.

"No. Maybe. We'll see, won't we, my dear?" Leopold's arms wrapped around you, pulling tight and leaning in closely. His hand skimmed up your waist and back down your arm, pulling your arm out and whisking you to the dance floor.

"Another dance? We just got done with five!" You shrieked, pulling your exhausted legs after him. Pure adrenaline and euphoria powered your body, swinging it around and following his steps. Laughing and tripping some, maybe even almost running into a few people too.

"Never my dear, I never want to stop dancing with you. I promise this is my last selfish birthday wish." He smiled, twirling you in and dipping you to the music. You smirked and leaned in, mirth and tease swimming in your eyes.

"I wouldn't mind a few more selfish wishes." You whispered as he pulled you up, hand slithering across his chest and resting at his heart. Your voice practically poured incentive, selfish questions, and desires Leopold had wanted to ask you for years poured into his mind as he stared into your eyes, completely suggestive and seductive in their e/c shaded wake. He pulled you up fast, pulling to hold your hand against his racing heartbeat.

"Y/n, you ha-

"Leopold!" A fiery hand came to rest on Leopold's shoulder, stopping the much-anticipated words that would have left Leo's mouth. He turned, almost giving his brother the stinky eye but couldn't help but to smile. His brother had been gone for a few months, having to go on a long expedition. Giving you a quick apologetic look and a kiss on the palm of your hand, once laying against his chest, he let you go.

You were immediately cold, already missing his insufferable heat you just learned to live with, and heat you learned to love. You watched on as he chatted with his older brother, not blaming him for being so excited, it had been months. You pulled at his jacket coat twice to let him know you were leaving and he nodded, grabbing you're pinky and rubbing at it before letting you go.

"So, finally eighteen, huh?" Fuegoleon smiled at his younger brother, who now stood as tall and as prideful as the rest of his lion clan. Fuegoleon knew he was ready, and knew he would make a fine captain one day, maybe sooner than later.

"It seems so." Leopold grinned, he was jittery and bouncing with excitement, how couldn't he be?

"You might be trying to play it off but I know exactly what you're up to." Fuegoleon looked at Leo, completely aware of his little game.

"Your right brother, only 59423 hours and 45 seconds left to beat you in becoming the captain of the Crimson lions. I think I can't get there before 25!" He grinned like a cat, eyes glinting with just as much point and mischievousness. He loved wagering with his brother, especially when it came to how powerful he could get. It meant more training!

"You are crazy... I'd like to see you try!" Fuegoleon huffed, shaking his head and walking away a smile hidden behind his back as he walked towards other guests. Leopold would make it alright, Fuegoleon was sure of that.

Leopold turned to look around for you, his looking over every person before they found him, draped across a wall and staring at him playfully, pointing a doorway. He grinned and looked around, before practically running towards you, picking you up and running to his room for nightly festivities.

***

Your birthday was in three days. Seventy-two hours. Four thousand and twenty minutes. Two hundred and fifty-nine thousand and two hundred seconds- WHAT WAS HE GOING TO DO? He had been going back and forth for two days, thinking of what he should get you. Leopold had already finished with the planning, he knew he couldn't do a surprise party, because not only had you done one for him, you were too smart and Leopold couldn't keep anything away from you.

"Maybe Fuego or Leona could help." He muttered to himself, staring at the same paperwork he had been staring at for the last two hours.

"Could help with what?" Leopold practically jumped out of his skin, completely endorsed what to get you, he did expect you to be right behind him.

"Y/n? Oh! Uh, maybe they could help with this- this uh, work here, something about... uh- blown up houses or something- uh what are you doing here, dear?" He pushed the pages away and turned to face you, smiling almost too widely. You stared at him weirdly.

"You okay?" You asked, coming to put a hand on his head, feeling to see if he was warmer than usual. He wasn't, only flushed and a little sweaty. You wiped your hand off on him and walked up, coming to sit on his lap sideways.

"Our mothers took me out dress shopping for my birthday gala, it was incredibly boring and so tedious!" You rested your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and relaxing as he lifted his hand to comb through the beginnings of your hair, his fingers tickling the skin on the side of your face now and then when he repeated the motion.

"Luckily I found a gorgeous dress though." You turned your head to look up at him. His smile was as bright as usual as he smiled down at you, hand coming to rest against your cheek as he spoke.

"That's good. I'm sure It'll look gorgeous as I'm taking it off you." He whispered cheekily leaning in for a blazing kiss. You slapped at his chest jokingly, meeting his kiss with just as fevore and love as him.

Pulling apart, you two wanted nothing more than to continue, but Leopold still had decisions to make, and your mother still wanted to go jewelry shopping with you. So with one last craving kiss, you got up and left, leaving Leopold to go searching for his brother and sister.

***

"What should I get Y/n for her birthday?" Fuegoleon and Mereoleona stared down at Leopold with little interest.

"This is what you pulled us away for?" Mereoleona growled, staring at her little brother with anger but happy that he had come to her for advice. He never does, always opting for stupid Fuegoleon- who by the way, is the second born.

"This is serious! I can't think of a single thing! I've already gotten her everything before, and I sure as hell am not going to get some boring gifts, it's gotta be perfect!" Leopold crying looked at his older sibling with pleading eyes. Mereoleona sighed and rolled her eyes while Fugoleon simply smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, what do they like?"

***30 Minutes Later***

"And they also-"

"Okay! Leo, we got it! Let's move on!" Meroleona stopped Leopold from splurging any more useless information, already sick of his lovesick stories of you. Meroleona sat back and thought hard, she too stuck on what Leopold should get, if he hadn't already of gotten it for you, it was simply too stupid enough to get then. Finally, though, Fuegoleon spoke up.

"Leo, do you love Y/n?" Fuegoleon held Leopold's eyes, ready for a slipping leak of deceit, but found none when he strongly replied.

"Are you serious? Of course, I love them! Hell, I've loved them my entire life it feels! They are always there for me, always have been! Without them, I wouldn't be nearly as powerful as I am today. Without them, I don't think I would have ever made it this far. I can't even begin to think of what my life would be like without them." Leopold spoke with such ferocity it left him almost breathless, his chest burning with the love for you. Fuegoleon only looked on in amusement.

"Well brother, I think you know what to do."

***

The party was beautiful, walls draped in f/c silks, your favorite. Flowers of all kinds filling every vase dotted across tables and window seals, some even hanging from the ceiling. Entertainers performed around you, showing off for the guests and patrons. Music filling the gigantic halls of the ballroom, sending magical melodies swirling around the room. It had been a night of dancing and drinking, good food, and sweet desserts. Laughs and jokes were shared with good friends and guild members.

As the night grew colder and fatigue slipped into everyone's exhausted bodies, [pulling them to leave and seeking sleep in their beds and homes. Leopold had swooped you up and carried you out of the ballroom, pushing past departing guests and banquet wanderers with genuine goodbyes and courtesies, hoping to see each other again.

"Where are we going, Leo?" You asked, confused and he walked out in the night air of the castle, finding a special mage standing near, opening a portal and nodding us in, a warm smile on his face.

"To you're last birthday present, my dear." Fuegoleon smiled and walked through the portal, walking out into a forested area. You looked around, taking in the change of environment. A wooden cabin layout in front of you two, covered in vines and foliage. Fireflies lit up the entrance, buzzing around a small bridge passing over a little creek in front of the little cabin. As we walked across you watched as the fireflies buzzed around brightly, spooked and startled by the walking of Leopold's steps. You giggled as they flew around you and Leopold, some even going to the water and lighting it up, making out the shapes of fish and lily pads dotting the water's surface.

"Leo, this is beautiful." You whisper, looking up at the spiraling trees, watching the stars shine and twinkle down on you. Leopold only smiled at your astonished face, quick to get you inside and show you your final gift.

Leopold opened the door, walked in, and set you down. As you walked around the warm cabin, taking in the decorations and personal trinkets Leopold had brought, to what he would hopefully like to call your new home. Leopold watched as you took in everything, reaching in his pocket and grabbing your gift, getting down to rest on one knee. He waited for you to turn back around, looked at him questioningly, and watched the slow realization dawn on your face as he lifted the little box and showed you what lay inside.

A gorgeous ring, detailed to a royals perfection, with the stunning vermillion house sigil carved on the outside. A vermillion diamond rests between the golden prongs holding it in place.

"Leo." A hand covers your mouth as you look at him in shock and astound. "Do you mean it?" You asked, walking over quickly and staring down at the man you love holding your next step in his hands.

"I would never lie or joke about something like this, Y/n. I love you, and I know I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I can't live without you." Leopold spoke, eyes staring up at her with honest truth.

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!! Of course, I'll marry you!" Leopold jumped up quickly and wrapped you in a breathless kiss, bringing you in tightly and finally letting go of all his anxiety of you saying no, no it was too early or something, but he needn't worry now.

You said yes.

#Black Clover #black clover leopold #leopold vermillion #leopold vermillion x reader #xreade #aged up #fluff #marriage #proposal #request #proud of this shit #black clover oneshot #fluffly #vermillion siblings

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e-milieeee · 4 years

Text

wait no more—ladynoir

Summary: When Chat Noir gets turned to stone by an akuma, Ladybug comes to the realization that the one she’s been waiting for has been beside her all along.

Now it’s a matter of telling him she loves him back.

Notes: Requested by anon, for day 6 (rose) of @ladynoirjuly2020! Pre-reveal, pre-relationship, angst. It’s not as angsty as you might’ve asked for but I hope you like it!

Or read on AO3! | Kofi

Ladybug sees the rose tumble out of Chat Noir’s fingertips before she sees him get hit.

He stumbles once, twice, then stills. A grey—the cold, light grey of marble—races up his legs, up his body, before it spreads over his face.

In the matter of seconds, Chat Noir is gone, replaced by a statue. There is no more emerald green, no more sunlight gold—he is cold. Cold in color, cold to touch.

All of a sudden Ladybug cannot breathe.

“Chat,” she manages aloud in a trembling voice.

His expression, frozen in time, is neither terrified nor concerned: instead, staring blanking through marble eyes, he’s smiling in that infuriating matter she loves and hates at the same time. And right now, Ladybug hates him so much she’s going to cry.

Again. Her stupid partner had sacrificed himself again.

The only hint of color left is the sharp splash of crimson at her feet, where Chat Noir’s rose still lays. She hears his question echo through her head once more: how much longer will I wait before you accept me?

No, she’d said the first time he had offered her the rose. I’m in love with somebody else.

He’d laughed gently and told her he’d wait.

I can’t, Ladybug had told him the second time. Still not over the boy I told you about, remember?

I’ll wait, Chat promised.

Then he’d offered, again. She said no. And so it continued.

It’s become their joke now, and Chat more often than not shows up with a rose in hand to their patrols. He asks the same question, and Ladybug pushes his nose away from her with a laugh and they lapse into what is easy: playful banter, skirting around the topics that dig their claws in a little too deep. She wistfully ignores the fact that he pulls down the wall brick by brick every time he asks the same question, and she has to pretend that everything is the same even when it isn’t.

How much longer will I wait before you accept me?

Ladybug stares at the red rose. At her partner and at his smile.

The stone is cold, but his smile is somehow still warm.

She has her answer.

***

The destruction of the akuma is restored with the Miraculous Ladybug, but she does not linger. Instead of taking the press questions like she usually does, Ladybug barely bids them a goodbye before she’s racing across the rooftops where Chat Noir is—flesh and blood now, instead of an unmoving statue. A small pool of fear thrums in her chest: what if he hadn’t been restored? What if she’s too late to give him her answer? It’s impossible, but at the same time…

Ladybug spots him and nearly misses her next step. By some miracle, she lands on two feet.

He’s dusting himself off, back to black, gold and green, movements fluid and relaxed. Chat Noir is just lifting his head to look at her when she tackles him in a hug.

“Woah!” She knocks him back a couple of paces with the sheer force, and Chat stumbles a couple of steps and hits the hall. “M’lady, as pleased I am that you’re happy to see me, do you think you could greet me without crushing a couple of bones?”

Ladybug pulls back and blinks away furious tears. “I’m going to kill you!”

Chat actually looks a bit alarmed. “What did I do this time?”

“You sacrificed yourself again! You’re—insufferable—stupid—ugh—!”

His expression softens. How he can look at her so tenderly is beyond Ladybug, and she can’t help but feel as if she doesn’t deserve that look. “You brought me back, didn’t you?” he replies gently. “I’m alright now.”

It makes her all the more angry. “What if I couldn’t?” she demands. “What then?”

“When have you ever couldn’t?”

“What if one day, I can’t, Chat? What then?”

He falters for a brief second, before he pulls his hand from behind his back. Between his fingertips rests the red rose, a little battered from the whole ordeal. “You didn’t answer my question, Bugaboo. How many more days of me bringing you roses before you finally fall for my charm?”

She stares at those green eyes, dancing in a way that aggravates her and sends the butterflies in her stomach into a frenzy. “I have,” Ladybug grounds out.

Confusion clouds his eyes. “What do you have?”

“I’m answering your question, you idiot.”

“My ques— oh.” The realization hits him like a train, and his mouth drops open. “Wait, what? You have? You have…as in, you like me? You like me too?”

Ladybug’s certain her face is so red that it matches her suit. “ Yes!”

Chat looks shellshocked. “You’re either joking or I’m dreaming.”

She opens her mouth to reply, but words don’t seem to be doing their job. So instead, Ladybug reaches up, grabs Chat’s bell, and tugs him down to her height. And kisses him.

It takes a couple of seconds before Chat relaxes, but when he does, an arm slips around her waist, feeling so wonderfully natural. Another hand comes to rest against her face to cup her cheek.

God, why had she waited for so long? She fits so perfectly in his embrace and he in hers. She’d been so stupid to make him—and herself—wait for so long.

When she pulls back from Chat, both of them are breathless and speechless.

Ladybug is the first to break the silence. She reaches and plucks the rose from between his fingers.

“I believe this is mine,” she grins.

Notes: Here’s my fics masterlist!

#miraculous ladybug #ladybug #chat noir #angst #ladynoir #ladynoir july #rose #my writing #mlb fic #romance!! finally!!#these two are idiots in love

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