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ratinayellowbandana · 4 months

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having just come off a 10-hour bus i feel your boredom. prompts, mm, Imogen trying to explain why horses are so nice to Laudna (Gelvaan early days?) while Laudna plays with a barn cat?

thanks ever so much @xhopsalong for this lovely suggestion. sorry it took me a couple extra days to get around to it. I got out of the car and life immediately smacked in the face. I hope this is something like what you had in mind! I will take any excuse to bring up horse girl imogen

wc: 1358

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Something was new to Laudna.

Not the hardpacked dirt floor or the rusted bolts holding thick support beams in place. Those seemed quite old if she had to guess. Not the distinct scent of hay and grain and manure that was embedded in the walls of this place. Not the cobwebs delicately spun in the rafters. No, the barn itself was well-used, though rather impressively maintained for its age.

Perhaps, then, it was the life that seemed to seep from the pores. The traces of human presence and domesticity that appeared in the saddle pads hung to dry on stall doors and the muddy boots stored beside the tack room. The unhurried shuffling of footsteps behind her. The muted thump of hooves on sawdust. The roof, newly repaired and still smelling of fresh wood.

Laudna sprawled on her back atop a bale of hay, limbs hanging limply off the ends. The straw stuck to her clothing, sharp and scratchy where the fabric was thinnest. Her long hair trailed on the ground, but she hardly minded. She kicked her feet idly, relishing the mild strain against the back of her knees and the swish of her skirt against her ankles. The world was pleasantly fuzzy, everything seen just a bit upside-down.

Twilight had just begun to fall, slanted beams of sunlight having just disappeared below the loft window. Long shadows crept from the corners. Gentle orbs of glowing purple light held them off for the time being. The spheres of magic bobbed up and down slightly in the cooling evening air.

The crickets had just begun their evening serenade when a horse whickered in a neighboring stall, and Laudna startled at the sudden noise.

“He can’t get you,” Imogen teased in that light way of hers that instilled in Laudna a reverent desire to believe every word she spoke.

Perhaps it was this, then, the new thing. A new friend. Her first in, well, she couldn’t quite recall, fuzzy as things are, but that was all right. Imogen was kind. She laughed with her belly and smiled with her whole face, and it warmed Laudna like a roaring hearth in the dead of winter. Imogen had one of those, too, in a house she shared with her father, and she let Laudna sit beside the fire and offered her tea and biscuits from a tin. She giggled at Laudna’s missteps and delighted at her stories, which was baffling. Laudna’s life wasn’t particularly interesting, but to Imogen, it seemed, half-baked tales of mushroom hunting were welcome interruptions to life in a rural town.

Imogen ran a loving hand along the blaze of a bay mare and pressed a kiss to her snout. The horse’s eyes closed, relaxed, and she sighed contently. Laudna tilted her head, hair sweeping the floor.

“You can say hello if you’d like,” Imogen said, “They won’t bite on purpose. Promise”

“On accident, then?”

“Only if they think your finger’s a carrot.” Imogen gave a lopsided grin.

Laudna inspected one long, gray appendage, eyes crossing as she dangled it over her face. She squinted. “I think I must be an awfully rotten carrot.”

Imogen laughed again in that easygoing manner that kicked Laudna’s sluggish heart into a flutter. Imogen blew a stray lock of purple hair off her nose and pouted when it resettled just above her lip. She went back to humming a quiet, jaunty tune Laudna did not recognize.

Something soft brushed against Laudna’s calf.

A fluffy orange cat appeared around the straw bale, tail held proudly aloft. It rubbed its side along the hay, arching its back.

Laudna froze as it approached. She eyed it warily.

The cat, for its part, seemed entirely unbothered, but one could never be too cautious. Most of the Wildmother’s creatures steered clear of her. The domestic and prey animals, especially. Something about the scent of decay tended to attract only the scavengers and carrion birds. A morning’s overconfidence had earned her a nasty bite to the wrist and a talon to the shoulder. She made more of an effort to sleep in a shelter, however crude, after that.

A small, wet nose investigated the inside of her wrist where it had been unceremoniously flopped. The tiny exhalations were cold against her skin, replaced by silky fur as the cat butted its head against her. Its tail trailed along her inner arm until an inquisitive, graying face met hers. Laudna sat up slowly, carefully swinging her legs around.

“I see you’ve met Lady,” Imogen said.

Two paws perched on the bale, chasing Laudna’s hand. Tentatively, she extended the back of one knuckle and gave two gentle strokes between the cat’s ears. It leaned into her touch, butting her hand in search of scritches.

“She’s darling,” Laudna said, a little breathlessly. She reached out again, bolder having been met with one success, and Lady arched into the pointed tips of her fingernails.

“He, actually,” Imogen corrected, shaking her head. Lady hopped up next to Laudna on all four paws, placing his front feet on her thigh. “The neighbor’s old cat had kittens a while back. We were told he was a girl when we adopted him. Only took our barn cat gettin’ pregnant to find out we were told wrong,” she chuckled quietly, “but the name stuck, and we love him, so. Isn’t that right?” Imogen cooed.

“He’s still darling.” Lady had taken up residency in Laudna’s lap, purring loudly. It was all rather peculiar. This warm, soft thing kneading her leg with pinprick claws. “I must admit,” she said, “I’m a little surprised.”

Imogen made an inquisitive noise.

“Animals tend not to like me much, I’m afraid. At least the ones who don’t want to eat me,” Laudna confessed softly, determinedly looking only at the rumbling creature in her lap.

“Lady and the horses seem to like you just fine.” Imogen paused her deft fingers where they had been working at a knot in the horse’s mane.

“I suppose so,” Laudna said, scratching one nail at the base of Lady’s ear. “I’m not entirely certain why that is.”

“Well,” Imogen considered, “could be simple as they trust me, and I trust you. And if I trust you, they know it’s safe.”

Laudna felt the color rise in her cheeks and redoubled her efforts to focus on her feline companion.

“Or,” Imogen continued easily, “it just might be because they know you’re a person worth likin’.” She resumed her untangling with her lower lip clasped between her teeth.

Laudna’s rhythmic petting faltered. “That’s… that’s very nice of you to say.”

“‘M not just sayin’ it,” Imogen sounded almost affronted. “You’re one of the most likable people I’ve ever met.”

Laudna’s head swam. She looked up at Imogen. “I… We’ve only known each other a few weeks.” The corner of Imogen’s mouth curved upward into a playful smirk, and she raised her eyebrows.

“My impressions of people are rarely wrong.” She tapped her temple, and Laudna flushed further.

Perhaps it was this, then, the new thing. Being known. Trusted. And, oh, that felt… well, felt like the weight of a creature, alive, warming her lap. Smelled like hay and grain and manure and, faintly, of ozone. It looked like straw clinging to her clothing and dancing lights and a horse lazily hanging its head over the stall door. Sounded like a rumbling purr that filled her whole chest and crickets in the evening and worn leather boots.

Surely, that must be it. Not merely passing life, lurking at its fringes, but embracing it and having it embrace her in return. It was lovely, this new thing. Strange and foreign but familiar in the way one might recall a hazy childhood memory with forgotten fondness. Or come across an old favorite blouse packed away in a trunk.

Laudna savored the feeling, the sensation that had made a home in her ribs, and she whispered a silent prayer that this might last. That the world might keep at bay just a little while longer.

And as the sun sank fully below the horizon, Laudna reveled in the unexpected wonder of this newfound peace.

#horse girl imogen temult is something that can actually be so personal #thank you so much for sending this in! I had fun :)#I love these little fics because its always just vibes #critical role #imodna #imogen temult #laudna #my fic #imodna fanfic #critical role fanfiction #cr3 #prompt fill #xhopsalong #ask

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kinetic-elaboration · 10 months

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July 9: Murphy/Clarke, Secret

Very early S1 Murphy/Clarke, ~1,000 words, for the prompt "secret" for July Break Bingo @julybreakbingo.

This ficlet was also written in response to a request by Robrae in a comment on AO3 for Clurphy in canonverse.

Written in about 40 minutes.

Back in the Skybox, most of the guys put on a front: fearless, arrogant, and rude. This exaggerated bravado was partly to ward off the usual existential dread—the prison atmosphere, the looming threat of death. But also to attract girls.

Skybox courtship followed a certain pattern: first annoyance and rejection, then curiosity, sometimes amusement, then boredom. Eventually even the assholes with their unsubtle pickup lines started to look pretty good. Horniness, and more dread. Pretty soon you're hooking up to feel alive or starting relationship drama to pass the time.

Clarke was in solitary so she doesn't know any of this, and unlike the girls in gen pop, she has neither time nor patience for sly winks and swagger. All the guys showing off their new Earth muscles by chopping wood or curing meat, they're trying to gain points with Bellamy and his crew first and foremost, sometimes, depending on who’s watching trying to flirt. But they're not trying to lure Clarke. They know better.

Murphy knows better too, which is why he's just as shocked as the rest of camp would be, if they only knew, that every other night he and Clarke trade off sneaking into each other's tents. Without discussion, they agreed that their arrangement should remain a secret. Something unspoken perhaps because it's shameful, perhaps because it's too ill-defined and ill-formed. What's he supposed to say anyway? That Clarke's his girlfriend? Not likely. Attaching labels to it, squashing it down into words and sentences, confessions, rumors, announcements or news, all that would tip over the delicate balance they've created. Just like they're baking a soufflé, they have to be quiet. Too much noise would send the whole thing falling down.

Clarke would probably find the soufflé metaphor funny, because, like most people, she doesn't know that the cook books in the Ark library database were his favorites. She'd laugh if he tried to call himself a chef. He's a lackey. A thug. He's in with the in-crowd because Bellamy saw something useful in him, something dead about the eyes that screamed out enforcer—or maybe he just knows from his little brat of a sister that Murphy was a lifer, unaccustomed to normal society, ready to follow strength and show it loyalty.

Most of that is true.

So if Clarke sees those traits in him and no others, he can't blame her, and if he keeps the quiet, soft, vulnerable parts of him hidden, whatever they are, it's for the same reason he put up his tough guy persona every day for four and a half long years up in the box: to ward off the dread, to get the girl.

A part of him says that Clarke wouldn't laugh, that she'd get real quiet and thoughtful and maybe brush his hair out of his eyes. He's been watching her during the day. She bends and softens at vulnerabilities; she knows she'll never get anything out of people who are kicked when they're already down. But then maybe he just likes the fantasy of it: a beautiful woman with power who tells him his dreams aren't dumb, who speaks with authority in the dark and silence just as she does out there in the chaos of daylight in the camp.

How he got such a girl he still doesn't entirely know. He'd cut himself badly working on one of the new structures, the wooden hutch where they hope to cure their meat. She was alone in the corner of the Dropship they've curtained off as Medical, and as she wiped the blood away and he hissed low curses and winced at the pain, she started talking to distract him, and he found out she was calm and clear-headed and brave in a crisis. That she looked beautiful as she pressed antiseptic to his skin, and that she could make him laugh when he didn't think he could. What she saw in him in those moments, he has no idea. That's just another secret, too deeply buried to disturb. But she held his hands a long time, even after he was all bandaged up and ready to go. She was kneeling on the floor in front of him, strands of hair pasted to her forehead with sweat.

He thought she'd probably banish him for kissing her but it seemed a fair risk, for that one reckless moment of time before he leaned in. Instead, she grabbed fistfuls of his hair and bit his lip.

In the perfect silence of the hour before the changing of the guard, that night, she crept across the dirt and deadened, yellow grass and scraped her nails like ghost-sounds down the nylon side of his tent. He let her in.

Maybe he's just around, a body, an opportunity—something she missed in her months of isolation, an outlet to her frustrations and her fatigue and her fears. Except she could have any damn person in camp if she wanted them. Maybe she's with him because she knows he won't brag. Ms. Griffin the Council Member's daughter in his bed.

Sometimes afterward they lie together in the quiet, listening to the wind in the trees, the footsteps of the night watch on patrol. Low, skittering forest sounds that he can't name. Tree leaves swept off their branches and thrown against the tent. Clarke climbs half on top of him and presses her ear to his heart and he gets his fingers all tangled up in her hair. They talk about the Skybox and he tells her about the arrogant and frightened young men. Then other stories. The long years, the distortion of time, the rituals—visiting day, birthdays, holidays—the new people coming in and the old going out. Less often, they talk about the camp and its progress. Sometimes she tells him about her parents and her friends back on the Ark.

She holds back a lot more than he does. He hears the hesitation in her voice, the care she puts into her words.

But it's all right.

He feels her chest rising and falling as she breathes, pressed against his chest. She's warm and heavy on top of him. Some nights it feels like she might stay there forever, like the time before the last gray hour before dawn, when she'll gather up her stuff and sneak away, is really all the time left in the world.

#the 100 #clurphy #murphy x clarke #clarke griffin #john murphy #mine #my writing #julybreakbingo #the year 2023 #2023: free write #2023: request #sort of

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iwishtobeastorm · 3 years

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I’m back girl! This time for Will Miller x plus size!reader where both Will and Reader dance around their feelings for each other, too afraid to ruin the friendship they have until one of them break.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.“

A/N: Jas, this prompt almost killed me, thank you so much for it! I enjoyed writing for Will so much. Hope this wil fulfill your expectations! luv uuuu

The big problem - Will Miller/Plus-size!F!Reader

Warnings: mentions of drinking, cursing, fluff

Word count: 3100+

Celebration | Masterlist

You know you're late when you arrive to Miller's house and all the cars are already parked in front of it. Even Santi is here sooner than you, which is pretty unusual. But it's not your fault you got stuck at work cleaning up someone elses's mess. You quickly make your way to the backyard, knowing the path like the back of your hand. Once the boys register you from their positions at the table, a wave of cheering carries through the air, making you grin. It takes seconds before Benny's picking you up in his arms, making you giggle while you try to push him away. "You'll drop me! Stop it!" You push against his shoulders and he huffs but listens to you, placing you back on the ground just to wrap his arm around your shoulders, leading you to the table with grin on his lips that easily matches your own. You and Benny are friends for about three years now, ever since you moved here for university. He dated one of your classmates at the time. He was waiting for her while you waited for your next class and you got caught up in a conversation, finding out you have quite a lot things in common, so you became friends. You were very possibly the reason why Tasha broke up with him in the end, because she constantly thought there must be more between the two of you than pure friendship, which was a bullshit, but there was no way how to talk her out of it. Even after that fiasco, you and Benny stayed close. He introduced you to the rest of the boys and when you found out you fit in well, you were accepted into the inner circle. You're not sure you were ever more grateful to the universe for letting your tactic of being kind to strangers pay off.

"Look who it is, we thought you're dead or something," Santi teases, pulling you into hug as soon as you make it to the table, making you chuckle. "You won't get rid of me that easily, Pope," you smirk at him when you pull away. "Damn," he sighs, pretending to be annoyed, making you laugh. "Everything okay?" Frankie assures, pulling you in his arms, being the caring one as always. "Yeah, just some kid had a bit of accident on the toilets so I had to clean it up. But I took a shower and everything, no need to worry," you murmur, making Frankie chuckle. "You should leave that awful place, Y/N. I tell you that all the time," Benny states, handing you your cider, that he keeps around just for you since beers are not really your area. You take it from him with grateful smile, enjoying how cold it is in your sweaty hands. These hot summer nights might kill you one day. But you wouldn't do Santi the favor of leaving the Earth before him so you have to make it somehow for now. "Well, someone has to pay for my college and I'm sure it won't be you, Mr. Miller. Where's Will by the way, when we talk about Millers?" you look around, not seeing the older one of the brothers anywhere even though his pickup stood in front of the house as always. "Went for more beers," Santi explains, sitting back on his seat next to Frankie and taking a swing out of his half empty bottle. "Oh, I see. I brought something to snack on," you murmur, handing Benny the plate with pie you baked yesterday specially for this occassion. "My favorite?" Frankie asks, making you chuckle. "No, my favorite," Benny announces proudly, beaming at you. "I can't always bake the same one, Catfish," you give Frankie apologetic look and he sighs, shaking his head, making Pope chuckle. "Take a seat. You can play instead of Will before he gets back," Benny gestures to the seat obviously occupied by the older Miller. "You know I'm awful at poker. I can't keep my face expressionless," you say, but you hesitantly head to the chair. "Doesn't matter. Will is too good at it and we need to even the score. You'll help us out," Santi states, making you chuckle. "Okay then," you murmur, sitting down next to Pope and lifting the cards in front of you. Fortunately for you, the clinking of bottles echoes to you from inside of the house and soon Will appears in the door, carrying a box of beers, the muscles of his strong arms outlined, making you advert your gaze with burning cheeks. You might have a little crush on Will, but it's not really a big deal. Or that's what you keep repeating to yourself again and again every time your heart starts racing in his presence. "Oh, our latecomer is here," he smiles at you, putting the box down. "Unfortunately," Santi teases, making you chuckle. "Y/N will play instead of you for one game, okay?" Benny turns to Will and you stand up. "No, no, it's fine. I'm perfectly okay with watching you guys play," you say, putting the cards down. "It's okay with me," Will says, smiling softly at you. "You know I play terrible. I don't want to ruin it for you," you say, making Benny roll his eyes playfully at you. "No worries, I wanted to give them a chance to catch up on me anyways, so you don't have to feel any pressure," Will states, his words giving you a bit of assurance. "Let's get going then," Santi pats the table, making you chuckle.

"I've told you I'm not good at this!" You exclaim, putting down the cards while Santi hoards all the chips he won into one big pile, grinning like a crazy man, making Frankie laugh. "It's okay. I'll kick their asses for you," Will smiles at you from where he sits by your side, making you blush. "I-I'll meanwhile cut the pie," you find an excuse, getting up and heading to the kitchen because you know that's where Benny put it for sure, the eyes of the boys escorting you all the way inside until you get lost in the house. Just then Benny speaks. "What the fuck was that man?" He frowns at Will, his baby blue eyes turning darker. "What do you mean?" The older Miller raises an eyebrow in confusion. "I'll kick their asses for you," Benny imitates Will's voice but making it high-pitched, forcing Santi to push back a laugh. "Before I introduced her to you, I told you to quit any flirting and shit like that. I don't want to make her feel like all you guys see in her is a piece of meat. She has lot on her plate already, she doesn't need you ogling her. She's just a friend, to all of us, so quit it," Benny points his index finger on Will. "I just didn't want to make her feel bad about losing the game, I have no idea what you're talking about," Will defends, looking down at the cards that Frankie threw his way, clenching his jaw. He knows goddamn well what's Benny talking about but he just couldn't help himself. The moment he saw you sitting in his seat in that pretty summer dress, his brain melted. He has a huge soft spot for you, very much past the one he should have for his little brother's best friend. But who could blame him? You're all Will dreamed of. When Benny gave them the speech before bringing you in, he thought it's gonna be easy. He never had problems with following the rules. And then he saw you for the first time. You made him speechless with your bright smile, soft eyes and plump body. Ever since that day, Will's heart beats for you. "Okay. No overstepping," Benny warns one more time, making Pope chuckle. "Calm down, dude. We are not stealing your girl," he states and Will almost crushes the cards in his hands at his words. He knows that's not how Benny thinks about you. You are like his younger sister, someone who's always there for him even when the boys are busy. Besides, Benny's seeing someone, he just didn't want to tell the others yet, because he knows Santi wouldn't leave him alone until he'd bring the girl with him too. Still, Pope's words piss him off. "No such thing. She's like my sister," Benny waves the teasing off without giving it a thought, focusing on his cards. "Okay then. I'm just saying she's cute," Pope states, smirking once he feels Benny's eyes burning through him, while Will grits his teeth. He puts the cards down, standing up. "I'm gonna call the pizza place, when Y/N's here," he mumbles and Frankie gives him soft nod from underneath his cap, so Will heads inside, the sound of Benny scolding Santi and the snickering of the man in question ringing in his ears like a distant echo as he tries to keep his boiling emotions at bay. He enters the kitchen just to find you humming some melody and rocking your hips in the rhythm of it, while you cut the pie and put in on plates for everyone to take. Will could faint at the sight of you, moving around their place so naturally. He wishes you were his, wishes this was a regular thing, that this was something he could come home to after harsh day at work. This is what he needs. But you aren't for him. "Uhm- sorry to interrupt I- I'll be calling the pizza place. You would like the usual?" He asks, and you turn around with sheepish smile, nodding. "I could do that too, you should've told me. You have a game to win after I messed up your score after all," you say and he chuckles. "It's not like that. You didn't mess up anything. The only negative of your loss was, that it stroked Pope's ego," Will states, making you laugh. "Yeah, that's never good," you murmur. "I'm gonna get the call," he says, tilting his head towards the living room and you nod,

smiling. When Will leaves the kitchen, you let out a deep breath, leaning against the counter, your heart thrumming in your chest, while your cheeks flush red. You're not sure how much longer you'll be able to take this. It's not like you'd make the first step anyways, but your yearning for him is making you stupid. You clean up the mess you've made while cutting the pie and wash the knife. Just as you wipe your hands on the towel, pleasant baritone echoes through the room, making your muscles melt. "Need a helping hand with the plates?" Will reappears, pushing his phone into the pocket of his jeans. "Uhm, sure," you smile softly, turning your back to him to collect the plates. You soon feel his body behind you, towering over you, the proximity making you dizzy. You can smell his cologne, brisk and intoxicating, filling your lungs and warming your heart. He leans over you, shoulder brushing against your back, sending shivers down your spine as he takes two plates. "Wanna help with the third one?" He asks when he pulls away enough to allow you to breathe. "N-no, it's okay. I can do it myself," you send him a bit nervous smile as you take the three remaining plates and follow him outside. "We were wondering where the two of you are," Santi teases, making both you and Will chuckle, even though your cheeks burn. "Stop the talking and prepare for the game. I'll crush you."

The night goes well. Will wins almost every game, pissing Santi off, making you laugh at him, the pizza's great as always and your ciders slowly make you dizzier and dizzier. As the night progresses, Frankie and Santi leave together, since Pope's currently looking for a flat and Frankie offered he can stay at his place before he finds something. After too many hugs, they are on the way and you too decide to set off, but first you want to help the boys clean up. So while Benny and Will take care of the bottles, you wash the dishes, which they didn't want to let you do, but you didn't step back. You move around their kitchen, knowing the space like the back of your hand, putting the dishes into its place. You're just standing on your tippy toes to put the last plate to the highest shelf, when a warm body presses against your back and a big hand takes the plate from your own, putting the plate there instead of you, your cheeks flushing dark red when the familiar cologne hits your nose and you realize it's Will. "Uhm- thanks," you murmur, looking up at him, your eyes meeting the aquamarine ones. He gives you a soft smile, closing the cabinet and stepping back just a bit to let you turn to face him. "No problem," he says, the weight of his gaze making your heart thrum. You feel hot all over and you're freaking sure it's not just the ciders. "Uhm- do you need help with anything else?" You ask, playing with the hem of your summer dress. "No, not really," he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I should get going then," you murmur, biting on your lower lip. "You could stay over, if that's not a problem. Me or Benny can give you a ride in the morning," he offers and you shake your head. "No, I don't want to bother you, Will. I can take a bus, it's okay," you say. "It's late, Y/N. It's safer if you stay here. We don't mind at all," he states, making you sigh. "I know I just-," you are cut off by Benny appearing in the doorway. "What are you to up to?" He asks, looking from you to Will with suspicion. You know Benny's protective over you while you're around boys, but they never gave you a single reason to feel somehow uncomfortable around them, so you've never really understood his worries. "I was just trying to persuade Y/N to stay over," Will explains and Benny's expression completely changes as he grins. "You totally have to! We have enough room for you here, don't worry. Come on, I'll give you some clothes to sleep in," Benny states, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and dragging you from the kitchen, not leaving any space for you to argue.

You can't fall asleep, tossing and turning in the soft sheets in the guest room. You can't stop thinking about Will, about his body pressed against yours, about his cologne, his hands, his eyes, about him sleeping just few doors away from you. You wish you had enough courage to do something about your feelings for him but you don't. You two are just friends after all, what would be the point of saying it out loud when he doesn't feel the same? You'd just make things awkward and ruin everything. You're so glad to be part of this group, they are your second family. Losing the guys would be like tearing a piece of your heart out of your chest. You won't let that happen. You stand up and tiptoe out of the room, taking the stairs to get to the kitchen, deciding to pour yourself a glass of water, because your mouth got quite dry after the alcohol and you also hope that the cool liquid would help your burning body turn back to normal and let you finally fall asleep. You pour yourself a glass, leaning your back against the counter and looking out of the window at the dark backyard, exhaling deeply, but not even that eases the tension in your chest. "What are you doing up?" The baritone, deepened by the sleep, cuts through the air, making you snap your head to the door just to be met with Will, standing there just in a t-shirt and boxers, eyes fixed on your form. "I- I couldn't sleep. I thought a water might help," you rise the glass and Will hums, crossing the kitchen to the fridge, opening it and taking out milk. You watch him as he opens it and drinks right from the bottle, making you chuckle. "What's so funny?" He asks, wiping his mouth. "Nothing," you put your hands up in defense, making Will smirk. Once he closes the fridge, the room gets captured by darkness and silence again. You bite on your lower lip, gazing at Will as he heads to the widow, his back turned to you as he's looking out, checking the backyard. He lets out a sigh before he speaks. "I can't stop thinking about you," he says and you freeze. You feel like your soul left your body. You had to misheard him, right? "I know I shouldn't, Benny would kill me if he knew but- I just like you a lot, Y/N. I understand if you don't feel the same," he speaks lowly, softly, still not facing you. You're speechless, your heart hammering in your chest, deafening you. This can't be true. You thought he doesn't like you. You thought you're just friends. Did he really say what your think he did? Will likes you. He likes you! You have to bite on your lower lip to stop the grin that wants to stretch over your features as you tiptoe to him and press your body against his, hugging him from behind and burying your face between his shoulder blades. You feel how he stiffens before he melts against your touch. "I like you too, Will. A lot," you murmur, smiling at your own words. "Really?" Will assures and he hesitantly covers your hands with his, swiping his thumb over your soft skin, not believing your words either. "Really," you nod. The reality washed over you both, making you feel as if someone took something really really heavy off of your chest and you could breathe again, freeing your heart and flooding your body with warmth of happiness. When your grab on him eases, he turns around, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you flush to his body, before he cups your cheek and kisses you softly, making your mind turn into mush. You giggle when his beard tickles at your face, making him smile. "I can't believe this," he whispers to you, stroking your cheek with his thumb, his forehead leaned against yours. "Me neither. I liked you since the first moment," you admit softly. "Me too," he smiles, squeezing you tighter with his arm, making your heart skip a beat. "I guess we'll have to tell Benny now," you murmur, biting on your lower lip. "Shit."

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Thank you so much for your support!

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#will miller #will miller x reader #will miller x y/n #will miller x you #plus size reader #chubby reader #female reader #200 followers celebration #triple frontier

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peakywitch · 4 years

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Tommy X reader with Prompt no.24 please❤️❤️❤️

Charlie, Mommy and Daddy - Tommy Shelby

Hi beautiful! sorry for keeping you waiting, life is crazy.

words: 3.5k WOW

warnings: usual, bad language, mentions of dead people and war, angst and fights.

PART TWO COMING SOON DUE TO THE AMOUNT OF LOVE GOT!!

masterlist

prompt: 24 “Pack your shit and leave. Get the fuck out of my sight!”

As the last days of October approached, Y/N already knew that Tommy's birthday was near. He had never revealed the date, so a few years ago Y/N started celebrating it one of the many days that were after the twentieth. First, it was the 21st, the next year the 22nd, and so on.

He always smiled at the vanilla and chocolate cake that she baked especially for him.

"Did I guess right?" she always asked, with a tired smile, her hair with a little flour and Charlie in her arms.

"Flavor? Yes. The date? Maybe." He answered, with a mischievous and funny smile.

That October 25, 1925, was like any other. While Tommy was in Watery Lane dealing with legal problems, Y/N and Charlie were trying to finish baking a cake.

"Why do we cook?" Charlie asked, as he walked and stumbled through the kitchen.

"Because today... might be daddy's birthday, Charlie." Y/N smiled, as she finished transferring the yellow mixture to a baking dish.

"How many years is daddy turning?" The woman could hear the question even over the creaking noise of the oven door opening.

"Five hundred." Y/N joked, leaving the tray in the oven and closing the door.

Charlie exploded into euphoric laughter.

After a few minutes, the boy asked a question:

“Is mummy going to congratulate daddy for his birthday? Is she coming back?”

The question left his lips so careless, he never understood. But what could someone expect from a four-year-old? But, although he didn´t understand the subject, Tommy actually never told him. “She went away.” He said whenever Charlie asked. He also never answered the “when is she coming back” question.

“I think you should ask that to your father, Charles.” She answered slightly, he then bolted out into the garden to kick off wilted autumn leaves and on the ground.

While cleaning everything they used to cook, Y/N doubted that Thomas’s birthday was today, but she was sure he was turning 35. The age difference tormented them a bit, but for only seven years. Although in the past it had been the subject of discussion and disagreements, both were clear that one knew more than the other about certain things. Y/N didn't understand anything about politics or horses, and Tommy had no idea how he should act in situations of extreme emotional sensitivity. But they tried, Y/N tried to pet the horses and Tommy wiped her tears with a white handkerchief that had her name embroidered on it but was always in his pocket.

The half-hour of baking went by quickly, Y/N could only think about whether or not today was Tommy's birthday, she was hoping she could find out.

“Is this how it will be? Will I come to my house and watch you cook while my son plays outside?" asked a smile at the door.

The voice took her by surprise, forcing the girl to drop a spoon mixing chocolate. It fell to the floor, staining the white marble brown. It could have been worse, Tommy thought seeing the mess he caused in an instant, it could have been blood.

"Tommy!" she smiled, then hugged him tightly. "Happy possible birthday, possible birthday boy." She said in his ear, as she stroked his nape with her flour-stained hand.

He thanked her and kissed her forehead.

"So… I guessed right?" she laughed, Tommy could only keep his smile on his face, looking into her eyes “Oh come on. Tell me yes once, or at least tell me that I did well one of these last times. "

"Maybe." He said softly, after clearing his throat. He pulled away from her, leaned against the wall, and stroked his lip with a cigarette that he pulled from a metal box once his back was against the wall.

"I'll put salt in your coffee." She laughed as she cleaned up the mess.

"I don't drink coffee, Y/N." he smoked.

"Then... I'll move all the whiskey bottles around for you and hide them." She backed off, rinsing off the dropped spoon.

"I have them locked up and you know it." He reminded her.

Both looks smiled.

…

When the clock struck midnight, Charlie had been asleep for four hours. Tommy and Y/N had been talking about life in his office. Thomas had a glass of Irish in his hand and Y/N had a cup of tea.

The fire was loud, but the photo of Grace kept in Thomas's left desk drawer screamed in Y/N's mind. Charlie's questions echoed too, and that made the poor woman bite her lip with fervor.

"Y/N" Tommy clarified his voice "would you be so kind as to explain to me that you are so stressed out?" he asked, finishing his drink in one gulp.

"Charlie should know."

Without warning or a proper introduction, Y/N spat out what was so killing her. Although she told her husband a lot, she did not tell him about those times he murmured her name in his dreams. Neither of her constant demand to be like her. Because she felt like he was never going to love her the way he loved Grace. She wasn't asking him to love her more than Charlie, she would never ask that. But she felt like she could never fill Grace's place.

"The what?" he asked, lighting a cigarette and settling into the single chair.

“About Grace, Tom. Don't play games with me." She replied, setting the cup of tea on the small glass table that was holding the bottle of whiskey.

"I already told him, a month ago." He said as if nothing.

Tommy had that talent. He spoke of love, death, and war as if they were as simple as numbers. Two plus two is four, you love, you die and people kill. There was never a sugar coating with others. But with Grace's death, it was never like that. Maybe it never would be, but he had to be an adult and explain the truth to his child in a simple way.

“You told him she's gone, he thinks he's in America, Tommy. I think you should…” she continued, insisting softly in her voice.

"Are you telling me how to raise my son, Y/N?" he asked, after taking the cigarette from his lips and pointing at her.

Y/N didn't speak, but pressed her lips tighter, trying not to blurt out a mention about all those times Charlie called her Mom when he was really tired.

She looked at the gold band on her ring finger, her chest sank. She swallowed hard, forgetting how to breathe and starting to breathe rapidly.

"Because if there's one of the two of us who can give a talk about parenting…" Tommy started, stubbing out his cigarette as he tossed it into the fire. "It's me."

"It's me." Y/N laughed, mimicking him. The comments, the stories, the complaints, and the sadness would not be tolerated anymore. "You never..." she began, trying to be as cordial as possible, it was late.

"Here we fuckin' go," Tommy complained, blinking slowly but not moving. He remained static, imposingly static.

“Yes, here we fuckin’ go, you bloody idiot. I know Charlie more than you do; I saw him more than you in these last four years. " Y/N got up from the comfortable sofa, starting to walk through her husband's private office. "Besides…!" the words hurt when leaving, everything she wanted to talk to him and never could, was coming out in the worst way, between screams and tears “Besides, I don't know what the hell to say when he asks me if I'm his mother! Because...!" the words suddenly stopped, they just didn't come out anymore.

Tommy was staring at her frowning; anger ran through his body.

“If you know him better than I do, why don't you tell him in a way that doesn't hurt, eh? Tell him about your bloody God and the angels, why don't you bring her flowers with him too?!"

The questions shot out of him after he jumped up like a bullet from his chair.

"Take him and tell him, tell him the story because I can't! Because I don't want to be the one to tell him that Grace is dead and that she won't be back!” she screamed back at him.

Both faces were transformed, Tommy had never looked so helpless and Y/N at first couldn't understand why Tommy couldn't do it until she had an epiphany.

"Oh my god..." Y/N whispered, covering her mouth with her hands. Her eyes were brimming with tears, her nose was turning red "You still... you still love her."

Thomas's face remained the same as before, did not change with the passing of seconds.

Everything was starting to make sense.

She suspected it, but now she was sure that that woman was still in his heart. She denied every thought and sent it to the back of her mind, ignoring the pain and anger. But she didn't realize it, until today.

“That's why you don't want to have any more children…” she whispered “You are not afraid to die and leave your children alone, Shelby. You don't want anything that isn't hers…” The realization broke her heart, her tears had a life of their own, they all went at different rates falling down her face “My God, what an idiot I was! At what point did I think you loved me!?" she screamed.

Then nothing.

There was only silence. On both sides. One could only hear the fire, like a few minutes ago.

"Why are you with me?" she asked, her heart ready to break again “Do I have her eyes? Do I have the same perfume?" she began to question, as she tapped him lightly on the shoulders and tried to keep her gaze on his blue eyes.

"Do I have her hands? Or what the fuck is it? I kiss just like her, huh? What the hell of her do you see in me?" she asked even more hysterical, her heart wouldn't stop beating and breaking every second, with every word.

Then, with only a few words everything went to hell:

“Mommy? Why are you hitting Daddy?”

Both adults looked at the little boy, standing on the door on his sleeping clothes. His hair was messy and had the cutest sleepy face ever. It melted Y/N’s heart, but Tommy didn’t care about no one else.

“I’ll be up in a minute, Charlie, go to bed.” She murmured while getting closer to the kid “Everything is fine, don’t worry…” she kissed his forehead and he disappeared, so she closed the door.

Y/N turned around and saw Tommy making a phone call, balancing the tube between his ear and shoulder while he served more Irish on his glass.

“Yes, yes please…okay, right now. Carnaby Street, the second house on your left. Yes… thank you.” He hung up and drank more.

“Tommy…” Y/N mumbled while trying to get closer to him.

He ignored her, walking towards a bookshelf across the room. He opened a book while being watched over by his wife.

“Please, I’m sorry. I…” she was about to burst down into tears, she was feeling helpless.

Tommy took a couple of papers from inside the book and left them on the black desk.

“Twenty pounds. Grab ‘em, pack your shit, and go.” He coldly commanded.

“Wha…what?”

Suddenly there was no more air in the room, it was also getting tinnier and tinnier. Her feelings were strangling her soul, she would fall defenseless on the floor at any given time.

“We need to be alone.” He said, and there it was again. He was being artistically careless as always.

“I don’t need to be away from you, I want to be with you and…”

“A car will be here in ten minutes, pack your things.”

He lit a cigar and sat on his black chair, then proceeded to do some paperwork.

“Tommy…” she cried softly, he was breaking her heart into a million pieces. “You are breaking my heart, please…”

“Nine minutes.” He muttered, without even looking at her.

How could he not care about here? The question was on her mind when she left him alone in his office, the doubt and the pain only grew bigger and bigger as she walked up the stairs to their room.

She opened the door, and everything came back to her.

The feelings she had ten years ago, seeing him date other women while she waited patiently for him to notice her, comforting him all those long nights after the war where he would just cry silently, him exchanging her arms for Grace’s and replacing her in every aspect with the Irish woman… Every single moment washed over her. Like an abnormal gigantic wave, it shook her. She suddenly became lost, she forgot where her dresses were, where her shoes were, and where the man she always loved was. But most importantly, she wondered if there ever was any love in him for her.

“Mommy?” a soft voice asked, and she came back to reality.

There, in the massive bed, was a little body wearing white pyjamas, hugging a stuffed bunny.

He looked sad and tired, just as she did.

“Hey” she susurrated while getting closer to him. She sited on the bed by his side and hugged him. “Charlie…” she whispered while caressing his hair “I have to leave, but we’ll see each other, alright?” Y/N tried to contain her tears, but they were being obedient to her heart.

“No!” he cried, hugging her as tightly as he could “Don’t leave me!”

The little boy was a mess, he was hugging her desperately while crying. She wrapped her arms around him, and another wave washed over her, but this time it was guilt and sorrow.

“Charlie, Charlie, Charlie…” she started to repeat his name quickly, trying to get the kid to look at her “Charlie…look…look at me, Charlie.”

His blue eyes were bloodshot, and his lips were trembling, there was no way Y/N would leave the kid alone here. Charlie was her son, either Tommy liked it or not.

“Grab your coat, you are coming with me. We are going a few days with Auntie Esme, okay?” she cleaned his tears with her thumb and the little kid did the same with hers.

“Don’t cry, mommy.” She smiled with an expression of sadness, then kissed his forehead.

“Don’t forget Mr. Whiskers, he has to come with us so he doesn’t feel lonely without you.”

“Okay…” he whispered and then left.

She started to pack everything she could, which in five minutes it means: two blouses, one pair of pants, a few undergarments, and three dresses. She also took a few things for Charlie. Everything was in the brown leather handbag that had her initials.

“I’m ready.” Said Charlie, while appearing on the doorway with Mr. Whiskers on his left hand and his book Y/N read for him every night.

“Alright, are you ready to have a fun week with your cousins?” she asked while closing her bag, trying to cheer the little boy.

“Yes!” he said, with a smile.

She took her bag and walked to the door, she was now by his side. She saw the room one last time, she knew that was the last time she would leave it with it being “their” room. Because she knew this was the end, it was now Tommy’s room, as it always was.

Tommy’s room. Tommy’s house. Tommy’s kitchen. Everything belonged to him, even she did.

“There’s a car waiting for you, Ms. Shelby.” Said Frances, with a polite smile.

“Thank you, Frances…” she said, and turned around, closing the door. “Let’s go, Charlie.”

She lifted the kid and left him on her hip, while he gripped into her trying not to fall.

“We are going to Auntie Esme’s, we will have lots of fun and…”

She said a lot of things trying to cheer him up, but she was trying to convince herself she wouldn’t cry more that one night for that man.

She walked down the stairs lost in the sorrow, trying to hold everything in place. The kid, the bag, the feelings. She tried to get to the door before Thomas acknowledgement, but he was there, looking at her as if she was just a stranger. But Y/N knew that look on his face. That’s the way he looked at Sabini, that was the way he looked at Kimber before he shot him dead. He was looking at her as if she was his enemy, one who he had to erase.

“Where the fuck do you think you are going with Charlie, eh?” he asked, abruptly and aggressively.

“He´s coming with me.” She said, trying to sound secure and big.

“He’s staying here, this is his house.” He fired back “And I’m his father.”

“But I’m his home.” She fought, Charlie’s face was buried on her neck, he was so confused. “And you are never there for him at night when he cries, neither in the morning when he wants to have breakfast. You are only there to punish him, or to tell him to fuck off because you are working. And he needs time and someone, not a shit tone of money and a massive castle.”

“He’s not your son.”

“Yes, I am.” He cried on her ear, wetting her neck. “You are my mommy.” He kept on crying, he was nervous and scared. He was never in their fights.

“Move countries, I don’t give a fuck anymore. Get the fuck out of my sight, Y/N. Both of you.” He sounded like a mad dog, but at the same time like a lost one. He began to walk away, but froze when he heard:

“Goodbye, Mr. Shelby.”

He couldn’t move, he stood right there. Y/N shut the door slightly and walked straight into the car. She saluted the chauffer and gave him John and Esme’s address.

Ten minutes into the drive, Charlie began to miss Tommy.

“We will have fun, okay? We will play with their dogs, and we will eat freshly picked eggs. We can also go to the lake and do picnics with auntie Esme, how does that sound?” he nodded.

PERMANENT TAGLIST: open

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legends-live-in-memories · 3 years

Text

Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century

AYO! Day 2 of MGI Trope Tussle! Team Enemies-to-Lovers for the win. I bring you another oneshot. but this time i used 3 prompts like a dumbass.

Fics Masterlist

Daminette Oneshot 4.3K words (no warnings except slight cursing)

Summary:

“Marinette is invited to the Super-Rockin' Wedding of the Century and she needs a date. Alya is both her best and worst wingman.”

Day 2 of MGI Trope Tussle, I used 3 prompts to make this thing: 1. "You don't have to like me, you just need to pretend you do." 2. "I like your costume. You look very cute." "Are you making fun of me?" 3. 'Write about a very unusual wedding proposal.' this is the culmination of all my efforts.

without further ado:

It was the biggest news on the internet. Global sensation, international rockstar, Jagged Stone, was officially engaged to childhood friend turned manager, Penny Rolling. Memes and fan theories stormed every corner of the web. Trending topics including #rockstar_wedding and #RollingStone permeated every social media platform. Guest lists were speculated, dress designers were tagged in every post that even mentioned the words ‘wedding’ or ‘bride’. It was total mayhem but none felt it worse than up-and-coming Parisian designer, M. D. Cheng, privately known as Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

The young adult was up to her neck in design templates, and was drowning in half-baked ideas and sketches. While the internet has only heard about the proposal for a solid two weeks at this point, Marinette was in the know for six months. Jagged Stone had contacted her in advance because he needed her help with the proposal itself.

And what a proposal it was.

Jagged had outlined his idea in simple terms but it was still so mind-boggling that Marinette needed him to draw some visual aids to completely convey his idea. Initially it sounded simple enough but the more the man spoke, the more Marinette felt her brain fry at the mental picture. It first involved recreating a scene from Penny’s favourite movie. Which sounded rather romantic, if you ignored the fact that her favourite movie was Bride of Chucky. Then it involved Jagged dressed as the Tinman from Wizard of Oz. Oh, and the proposal had to happen on Halloween because that was the anniversary of their first date apparently, and based on everything else this plan entailed it might as well have been. Marinette’s role in all of this was to simply re-make the white wedding dress Chucky’s bride, Tiffany, wore because Penny already had the leather jacket to match. Of course she did. She didn’t even want to know how Jagged acquired the Tinman suit. Not her barrel of monkeys.

While many thought Jagged was the eccentric one of the pair, due to his loud personality and being an actual rockstar, the more Marinette worked for the two of them over the years, the more she learned how absolutely wrong they all were. It turned out it was Penny’s idea for Jagged to dye his hair purple, and she was the one to ask him out on Halloween all those faithful years ago. Her calm and collected demeanor was an impressive cover for the absolute weirdo she actually was. And Jagged had planned a proposal that was undoubtedly perfect for her. Regardless of how abso-fucking-lutely bizarre it was.

To each their own and let’s move on.

The set-up for the proposal started with Jagged, dressed as the Tinman, playing the part of Chucky, who begins the body-switching chant from the movie. Everything from that point on was resting on Penny’s love for the movie. Without hesitating, Penny, dressed as Tiffany, and playing her part, knew the lines by heart and immediately began reenacting the scene with Jagged. Her lines involved telling ‘Chucky’ to kiss her while she reaches for a knife that’s supposed to be in his pocket. Instead, as Jagged was still dressed as the Tinman, Penny pulled out a slip of paper. On said paper, the words ‘All the Tinman wanted was a heart’ were written in Jagged’s almost illegible chicken scratch. When Penny was distracted with the piece of paper, Jagged had gotten down on one knee and pulled out the engagement ring. The actual words of his proposal were never actually said because, upon seeing the ring, Penny flung herself into the man, clipping her chin into his metal-plated shoulder, but she wasn’t complaining.

So that was how the proposal went.

Wedding planning started almost immediately since the newly engaged had already picked a theme. And this is where Marinette began to regret every life choice she has made since she was thirteen; starting with opening the mysterious box she found on her desk and ending with agreeing to being the main designer for the Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. One thing that wasn’t well-known but not a secret about Jagged was that he was a superhero fan. He grew up enjoying the fictional ones in his childhood comic books and he adored the real ones he witnessed in his adult life. His song that he dedicated to the teenage Ladybug was only one part of his… appreciation. His hero-worship went so far as to beieve that a hero-themed wedding was appropriate. Or he didn’t, but also didn’t care about adhering to societal propriety and went with that theme anyways. So the Rockin’ Wedding of the Century was now the Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. And twenty-three year old Marinette was incharge of the entire wedding party’s outfits.

Perfect.

As a small mercy from some god, both the bride and groom to-be had a rather short list of people in their parties. Marinette was also able to design appropriate hero-themed outfits for all of them and scheduled them for fittings in the coming weeks. That, surprisingly, was the easy part as there were plenty of heroes to draw inspiration from. However, that wasn’t the cause of her current crisis right now.

No. Marinette was up to her neck in unnecessary designs and ideas because she’s been avoiding one particular contingency in her acceptance of the wedding invitation.

She needed a date.

She needed a date because she had promised Penny that she wasn’t overworking herself and to prove it, she would bring a date to the wedding. Rather than call any of the people who expressed interest in her at some point in time, she designated herself to wallow in her situation and distract herself with designs. In the midst of her one person pity party, her phone rang under the sea of ripped out pages. She scoured for the device and hastily answered before she could accidently send the caller to voicemail.

“Hello?” She didn’t check the caller ID and was delighted at the sound of her best friend answering her.

“Marinette! How’s it going over there?” Alya’s voice was mixed in with the busy street life of Metropolis. She had moved there immediately after high school, snatching an internship with the Daily Planet and attending the local community college. She and Marinette don’t call often due to time differences, but when they do it’s like they’ve never parted. She always looked forward to her calls.

“It’s going great, Als,” if she ignored her current dilemma, then yeah, everything was perfect. “But you wouldn’t happen to have an available bachelor willing to be my date to the ‘Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century’ in your back pocket, would you?”

Alya’s answering laugh was both comforting and teasing and Marinette felt herself missing her even more. What she said next, however, took Marinette by surprise.

“Actually I do.”

“Pardon?”

“Well,” she took a pause to build suspense. “I know a guy who knows a guy. But it’s nothing shady, I swear.”

“That’s not comforting.” Oh god. What has she unintentionally signed herself up for?

“You know my coworker, Jon? The guy who does the photography for all my field work?” Alya had met Jon as soon as she had started her internship. Both of his parents were top journalists at the Daily Planet so he volunteered to act as tour guide for all the new interns. He and Alya, from the exasperated stories Marinette has heard from Nino, got along like a house on fire. If he was involved, Marinette was starting to doubt even further that this was going to end well for her.

“Yes, I know Jon. How is he by the way?”

“He’s fine, but I remember him telling me how he tried to set up his best friend on several dates over the years and how they all ended poorly. He’s as approachable as a brick wall; not just a prick but the whole damn cactus. Or so Jon says.” How does that sound like someone Marinette wanted to bring along with her to the wedding? “But he’s totally your type so I could ask Jon to wrap him up in bubblewrap and send him your way whenever you want.”

“How,” and Marinette said this with a lot of feeling, “is he my type exactly?”

“Green eyes with daddy issues.”

“ALYA!” Marinette was absolutely floored at her bluntness. She wasn’t even sorry about shouting into the receiver.

“Am I wrong? You have a type and he fits that type. Jon mentioned how this guy and his dad hit several roadblocks when they first met. And I’ve seen pictures of him so ‘green eyes’ checks too.”

“That is not my type of guy.” She can’t believe this was how this conversation was going.

“Adrien.”

“I didn’t even know who his father was at the time, Alya.”

“Felix.”

“His dad is dead! That doesn’t count as ‘daddy issues.’” She can feel her cheeks flaming as the call went on. Any hotter and she was going to set her sketchbooks on fire. “Besides, I dated Luka so he doesn’t fit the criteria.”

“He’s an outlier and that’s only because his eyes are blue.” Okay, fine she had a type. “And besides, you don’t even have to date the guy. You only need him to accompany you to the wedding and you both go your separate ways after. No harm, no foul.”

Right. That was true. No strings attached. She could do that.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but,” she held her breath and let it out loudly, ignoring Alya’s chuckle at her dramatics.” Give Jon my number to give this guy. And send his number to me.”

“Wahoo! Look at you, girl,” Alya was hooting and hollering over the speaker and Marinette found herself going along with the theatrics. “Okay, I will. But I gotta go, my cab is here. Bye!”

“Bye! Stay safe. Oh before you go, what’s Jon’s friend’s name anyways?”

“Uh, Damian, I think.” The call ended before Marinette could respond, but it was okay she mused. Tossing her phone onto her couch, she flopped down onto her floor and stared at her ceiling contemplatively.

What could go wrong?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Alya had described this Damian guy as ‘not just a prick but the whole damn cactus,’ she was right. Marinette had been texting back and forth with Damian for a month, and the guy was making this idea seem less and less worth it by the day. Whenever Marinette tried to learn more about the guy, he would ghost her for days on end before replying with a half-assed response at best. She knew nothing about him other than that his first name was Damian and that he was from Gotham. She had no idea how the ball of life that was Jon was even friends with someone like Damian. She asked as much to Alya in their most recent call.

“How did they even meet?” She was pacing the floor plan of her apartment, ready to tear her hair out. “Did Damian bully him in school or something?”

“Apparently their dads knew each other and introduced them,” Alya sounded half awake, stifling a yawn; probably because Marinette had called her at 1 am, Metropolis’s time. “Their brothers being friends also forced them to get along.”

“And that’s another thing!” Marinette had paused in her pacing and was now staring intently at a potted plant in the corner of her living room. Any more rage in her glare and the plant would have wilted and died. “He doesn’t tell me anything about him. I don’t need to know all his personal information, but if he’s going to be flying out to Paris on my behalf, I think I at least deserve to know his last name.”

“Hey, M,” another yawn echoed through the speaker, “I love you, truly, but maybe this could wait for holier day time hours?”

“I guess,” a vindictive part of Marinette felt like this was payback for all those inopportune calls when Marinette was busy with clients. “Sorry for interrupting your sleep.”

“It’s no big deal. But have you tried talking to him about it? If he’s ghosting your texts, try calling him. If he ignores you then too then maybe you should try finding another person to be your plus one.”

“The wedding is in two weeks, Alya!” Marinette partially regrets waiting so long to vent her frustration about the situation but she had tried to tough it out. “I would have much preferred if you were my plus one. You sure there’s no way to convince your parents to skip out on the family trip?”

“Sorry, M. Once the news about the proposal hit the internet, I tried everything. I even tried to use work, saying that I could cover the ceremony for the newspaper. My folks won’t budge though. My dad’s aunt is important to him and he wants us all at the funeral.”

“Right, right, I forgot about that.” Now she felt like an ass. “Send you dad my condolences when you see him again.”

“Will do. Good morning, Marinette. And don’t worry too much about the guy. Everything will turn up great. I can feel it.”

“Thanks, Alya. Good night, get some sleep.”

The line went dead and Marinette let out a rather weary exhale. She had no idea how this was going to work. She pulled up her contacts and searched for what she had Damian saved as.

‘Douche’ flashed on her screen and she hit the call button without remorse. She didn’t care that it was also currently 1 am in Gotham. He didn’t deserve that much consideration from her.

“What?” His voice was gravely and deep. And also really pissed if his clipped tone was anything to go by.

“Damian? Hi, this is Marinette, the girl you’re accompanying to the wedding in two weeks?” Her voice was pitched as if she was dealing with an irritating customer. Fake and polite.

“I know who you are. Why are you calling me at this unreasonable hour?” Fair, but Marinette was still aggravated at him so she wouldn’t concede.

“I’m calling because we need to talk.” She heard him scoff over the line and she felt her blood boil even hotter. She took several calming breaths to reign her temper in. “Don’t hang up.”

“Look,” She didn’t give him a chance to refuse and kept talking, getting everything off her chest. “This wedding is important to me and I promised the bride I would bring a date. After that you can delete my number and we never have to speak to each other ever. You don’t have to like me, you just need to pretend you do.”

“Whatever,” he sounded less annoyed from when he first answered the phone. “I will act as cordial as the situation requires, and nothing more. I also have my attire secured for the wedding and accommodations in Paris already prepared. I will see you at the wedding.”

“Than—” The sound of the call ending interrupted her and her frustration was back tenfold. With a cry in anguish she flung her phone onto her couch and stomped into her kitchen to channel her rage into baking.

Three loaves of bread and a dozen eclairs later, Marinette felt calm enough to finish the final touches on her outfit for the wedding.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the day of the Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. The Rolling-Stone’s, as they were asking to be called, had kept the ceremony small. Relatively. Only two hundred invited guests, few of which were asked to bring a plus one. Marinette was over the moon at the array of outfits people were sporting. Some chose full-on cosplay while others, like herself, went for more subtle nods to the heroes. In honour of a previous Ladybug, Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons, Marinette based her outfit off of Wonder Woman’s uniform, Hippolyta’s daughter. A navy blue sequined halter top bodice that flows into a blood red A-line skirt. She paired it with a thick silver belt, silver gladiator heels rather than boots and broad silver arm cuffs. It was simple but effective. Besides, all attention should be on the bride and groom today.

A tap on her shoulder caught her attention and she turned only to come face first with red with black spots. Ladybug. Someone chose her as inspiration. How flattering. Looking up to see who was wearing the Ladybug-themed suit jacket, she stared at a pair of deep forest green eyes and a sneer to ruin that ridiculously handsome face. She recognized him from the photo Alya had sent some time ago. Damian.

“Hi, Damian,” at least one of them had to be civil and Marinette knew it was going to be her. But the idea that of all the heroes for him to choose from he chose her sent her into poorly stifled fits of giggling. Images of him going ‘Lucky Charm’ and ‘Miraculous Ladybug’ were almost too much to bear.

“I don’t know what’s so amusing about my choice of attire,” his face was starting to flush in similar shades to his jacket and that made Marinette laugh harder. “Ladybug is a well respected heroine and I thought it appropriate to pay homage while in her home city.”

“No. No no. There is nothing wrong with it. I like your costume, you look very cute.”

“Are you making fun of me?” His irritation was rather cathartic for the still giggling woman.

“No, I just didn’t think you would have put that much thought into your outfit for today. You always gave me the impression that you were ready to back out at any time.”

“I made a commitment and I had all intentions to see it through the end.”

“Could have fooled me.” And her snark was back. Now was not the time to pick a fight with the guy, he did fly all the way to Paris on her behalf after all.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” and Marinette wanted to know how he managed to sound so condescending with that statement. “How did you even get an invitation to this wedding anyways? You’re not a celebrity and you don’t look like family either.”

“Actually,” she said it with more force than what was probably necessary but his slightly accusatory tone was just so irritating. “I am the lead designer for the wedding party,” her chest was swimming with confidence at the chance to talk about her job. “I’ve worked with the bride and groom for years; M. D. Cheng, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette will deny to her grave the rush of satisfaction at the absolute gobsmacked look on Damian’s face. A real fish out of water. Mouth open wide ready to catch flies. She wished she could capture this moment forever.

The moment was over too soon because Damian was regaining his composure and slipping into his default stoic expression. He cleared his throat and fixed a look at Marinette. It was rather intense.

“I believe I owe you an apology then.” He looked put-out at admitting something so menial. “I believed you were nothing more than a socialite chain climber.”

“A what?”

“When Jon reached out to me saying that a friend of one of his coworkers needed a date for an event, and when that event turned out to be the wedding of someone of such popularity, I figured you were only trying to increase your own social status by showing up with me on your arm.”

“And you said ‘yes’ anyways?” Marinette was confused but pieces of the mystery that is Damian were starting to fit in place. But something else stuck out as odd to her. “Also, how would you being my date increase my social status anyhow?”

He scoffs before answering. Bitch.

“What? It wouldn’t be the first time one of Jon’s set-ups ended that way. Besides, we’ve had an agreement that I can’t turn down an offer until meeting the person face to face.” Weird deal but some friendships are just like, Marinette supposes. “And being seen with me is enough to make anyone more popular.”

“...And you are?”

“Damian… Wayne…” He spoke as if he was talking to a small child. As if it should be obvious who he was like he was some celeb— Oh shit.

A name had flashed into her mind. On the finalised guest list, Marinette had only seen it once in passing, there was a name that belonged to someone Jagged was rather excited to see. He said the friend was an old college buddy. She remembered that much. She had completely forgotten that ‘a billionaire playboy’ was also attached to the name. Damian was the son of Bruce Wayne. Suddenly everything in the past few months made perfect sense. The cold shoulder, the ghosting, and his prickly disposition. He was overly guarded because he had justified reasons to be. Now she felt like an ass.

“Oh.” Real intelligent, Marinette.

“Oh? What, you didn’t know?” He sounded incredulous at the notion and he had every right to be. Marinette could only shake her head. Words were failing her now, her brain trying to rewrite the memories of every interaction the two ever had.

She was saved from further mortification by a call for everyone to find their seats. The wedding was about to begin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ceremony was beautiful. Penny’s dress was a silver grey, tied back with a golden belt. Instead of a long train, Marinette had attached a black cape that shimmered in the right lighting. Penny wore a tiara with two peaks to imitate the ‘bat-ears.’ A Batman-themed wedding dress was not something she ever saw herself making, but she was proud at how beautiful and confident Penny looked in it. Jagged was adorn in a royal blue suit with bold red lapels. He also had a matching red cape. His hair was styled in the familiar sleek way Superman wears it. The two made quite the pair.

The reception was a lively affair. Jagged had dedicated several songs to his new wife and they dazzled the crowd on the dance floor. Marinette didn’t pay much attention to the speeches beyond a quick glance at Damian when his own father stepped up to the podium. He had buried his head in his hands, looking like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. A courtesy pat on the back was all Marinette gave to him.

The two hadn’t really spoken much since the revelation that they had completely misjudged each other. The awkward tension was almost palpable. As Marinette was gathering the courage to speak to him, to try and officially clear the air, she was being dragged by one of the bridesmaids onto the dancefloor. It was time for the bride to throw the bouquet. All the unmarried women were being corralled into a tight cluster and Marinette got swept up in the tide.

Marinette wasn’t focusing on the actual game, trying her hardest not to get trampled, when she saw something move in her periphery. Years of being Ladybug had left her with finely honed instincts so she could not be blamed when she immediately jumped and caught the incoming object. The bouquet. She had caught the bouquet. Oh that was just her luck. Deafening squeals of delight brought her out of her own head and she was suddenly being embraced in Penny’s arms. She returned the hug, sharing in her delight, before breaking away to sit down.

“Nice catch.” His voice had surprised her, she hadn’t expected him to speak to her for the rest of the night.

“Uh, thank you. Just lucky, I guess.” Damian didn’t get the chance to respond because he was being dragged by his own father to join all the bachelors in catching the garter. Marinette was equally uninterested in this spectacle and had let her mind wander to other things.

A loud uproar caught her attention again and her eyes zeroed in on Damian holding the tossed garter. He made his way back over to her, dropping himself into his seat gracelessly. The two sat in silence, contemplating the implications of them both catching the garter and bouquet. The games were done purely for tradition’s sake, with total disregard of what it was supposed to symbolise. Still. One’s mind couldn’t help but wander. Minutes ticked passed and Marinette was beginning to wonder if someone was going to talk about the elephant in the room.

“So,” Damian’s voice was slightly strained, like he wasn’t used to being this flustered. It was kind of endearing. Wait what?

“So.”

“While marriage seems far out of reach for right now,” Oh god. He was going to talk about it. “How does dinner sound, next Friday?”

“Wait,” he wanted to spend more time with her? After their disastrous first impressions? “Really?”

“Really. I believe we started off on the wrong foot,” he let out a soft chuckle, almost self-deprecating. “Which isn’t really new for me, but it’s not everyday I meet someone who doesn’t recognise me at first glance. I think you’re someone who I would like to get to know better. If that is something you are also interested in.”

“Yeah,” Marinette knows all about wanting to get acquainted with someone who she’s had a bad first impression of. Just look at her past relationships. Wow, she really does have a type. Damning thoughts for later. “Friday works for me. Seven pm?”

“Perfect. I’ll text you the details then.”

“Wonderful, I can’t wait.”

The rest of the evening was spent in companionable silence with small bouts of conversation in between. They shared a couple dances on the floor and parted ways at the end of the night with budding anticipation for Friday.

As Marinette was preparing for bed that night in the comfort of her apartment, she sent a text to Alya that her friend would see later in the day.

You were right, I do have a type :(

#maribat #daminette #maridami #mgi trope tussle #mgi- server event #enemies to lovers #speedrun #i #like a dumbass challenged myself to use three prompts and i delivered #i hope #i hope yall enjoy #tumblr do me a solid #dont hide my posts #please #im begging #ml x dc #mlb x dc #tumblr please stop hiding my posts #no beta this is tussle

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kodzukyan · 3 years

Text

the long way home (to you)

notes: happy belated birthday, rissa! cheers to our tokrev momster, the baby of group therapy, and the light of my life!! words can’t describe how much joy you bring to my life, and i’m thankful every day for you. thank you for putting up with all the dumb shit i say on the daily HAHA. i love you so much. 🥺💖 @seishue (also thank you to annette and ilayda for putting up with me as i overthink every thing HAHA 🥺)

summary: the concept of home redefined through the years. - kokonui

wc: 1.6k

Home is an abstract concept, but it’s something Koko has always been able to define.

At eight, it was sitting in Seishu’s room and the sound of pencils scribbling on summer homework as the air conditioner hummed through the silence. At eight, it was the sound of his laughter as Seishu pouts about summer homework. At eight, it was Akane with her golden hair and sky-blue eyes as she brings in barley tea and snack cakes. At eight, it was the warmth that blooms in his chest as his heart thunders excitedly and recklessly at the sight of Akane’s pretty smiles and playful teasing.

At eight, it was the sound of fire crackling and tearing through the home he knew.

(All he sees is the painted reds and oranges of fire, burning, burning, burning through home as he knows it.

He runs into the fire anyway because he promised. He will save her, save love as he knows it. As if he’s running on autopilot, he just bulldozes through the building of burning wood and flaming memories because he purely has one end goal. He runs, runs, runs, and finally sees her, sees the promise he vowed to protect.

He doesn’t think because all he cares about is Akane, his promise, and he grabs her and runs. He sighs in relief as they make it. As he breathes in the fresh air, he sees light blue eyes staring right back at him, too light to be paired with the soft smile that flutters his heart, and he feels like he can’t breathe. He stares vacantly at Seishu, and as pain reflects back from his blue eyes, Koko hates himself for feeling upset that he saved his best friend instead of his sister.

His eyes drift from downcast eyes to the blazing building, and his heart stops. He’s breathing, but his body is frozen and his mind is dazed. The forbidding feeling in his chest swells into a looming shadow, and he feels crushed as it devours him whole.)

At eight, home burns. All he’s left with is Seishu’s hand clutching his as they stand in a white room. The love of his life laid still, and the steady beep of the heart monitor drowns out their cries.

-----

At fifteen, home was found through crimes and bonds built through money and blood. At fifteen, it was wistful thinking and forcing the image of Akane onto his best friend, hoping, praying that she will still smile at him all the same. But she doesn’t because all he recognizes is Seishu and his steady eyes as he looks forward. In contrast, Koko feels increasingly aware that he was the only one running in circles with no destination.

Seishu has constantly seen him, always looked at him as him. And despite conventional belief, while he still detects traces of Akane, he sees Seishu too. He cherishes him too, in a different way than how he loved Akane, in a way that reminds him that love is steady.

He loves Seishu in a way that he will always, always choose him. Like the consistent beat of his heart, love flows softly, tenderly, subtly. Unlike the blazing flutters of his heart he felt with Akane, it's more like the stars that twinkle night after night. With Seishu, he doesn’t have to be the Koko who exclusively knows how to break things and make money. With Seishu, he can completely just be Koko. A gentle lull, rest stop, a stronghold against the world where he doesn’t have to run, where he can finally sleep.

Seishu deserves better, though. He deserves someone who isn’t chasing after the image of a dead girl while being half in love with him. He deserves someone who isn’t running in circles, both mentally and emotionally. He deserves someone who loves him fully instead of his half-baked feelings that grow and surface with every moment, but he refuses to acknowledge.

(Because if he does, what will he have left? Who is he without money and his feelings for the one who commenced it all?

He’s a little more lost than found, so he just keeps on running, running, running in hopes to discover some answers, to finally reach somewhere he can just be.

(He doesn't know how to stop.)

Somehow, he thinks Seishu knows all along anyway with the way he still squeezes his hand and looks at him like he’s still worth it. He still enables him to lean in and tuck himself in between the crook of his neck and breathe in the scent of home.)

But home, Koko thinks, becomes a little more undefined when they part ways. Because he can no longer protect Seishu, who keeps on going and facing forwards while he’s still stuck on a repeated loop. Because he knows he’s gripping Seishu back from growing and becoming someone who can take on the world.

(Because he loves him.)

So, he lets go of home and wonders since when did it become so cold without Seishu’s hand holding his.

-----

At eighteen, he is completely lost. The sight of Akane’s smiling is long gone and the warmth of Seishu’s hand in his has gone cold. The looming shadow that has been following him is always ready to overtake him, but he fights on anyway because he has to see it through.

(See what through? He doesn’t know exactly.)

Ironically, it has incessantly been the bleakest moments when Seishu appears beside him. He’s still running loops on repeat, but he thinks an alternative path opens up when Seishu extends his hand out. He wants to take it, wants to altogether stop running because he’s so tired.

“Koko.” Seishu prompts as he holds his hand out, “I’ll give you half of my burdens, so give me half of yours too.”

He grasps Seishu’s hand, and Seishu pulls him up. Koko leans into the crook of Seishu’s neck like he did before, and as if all the years of exhaustion finally caught up to him, he cries. He cries for the loss of Akane, cries for the loss of what could have been, cries for the loss of home.

Seishu just stands still and supports him tightly in his arms as he breaks.

“I’m with you.”

He used to think he was the one who supported Seishu, but he thinks he’s been proven time and time again that it’s the opposite way around.

“We don’t talk about this,” Koko sniffles as he leans into Seishu’s hold.

“Okay,” Seishu promises and places a tender kiss on his temple.

Koko has never believed in God. God wasn’t there when he needed him; God still isn’t here when he needs him. But as their bodies press together, limbs tangled and eyes locked, he wonders if this is what heaven feels like.

("Koko," Seishu starts. A conversation that has been lingering in the back of his mind; a conversation that has to be said. He pauses, wandering eyes hesitant to confront black ones before he inhales sharply. "I’m not Akane."

Koko's teasing smile fades, intense eyes meeting crystalline blue ones that are slightly lighter than the girl he loved once. He used to imagine the boy in front of him as his sister, the one he swore he would protect, but he can’t even fathom the thought now. He can see her traces, but he thinks he never desires it to be her anymore. He just wants his best friend, his comfort, his home, him. "I know."

His callous hands reach for Seishu’s burn scar, caressing it gently before he trails down and brushes Seishu’s soft cheek. He cradles it for a moment before he presses his forehead against Seishu’s, softly, fondly. He’s earnest as his eyes staring straight into blue ones, a vulnerability in his gaze. A realization, a truth, something he’s long figured out but didn’t want to admit because he didn’t want to let go of all that he knew.

But he notes the man in front of him now, feels the warmth of his cheek and the softness in his glance, and Koko finally smiles and feels like it’s okay to stop.

“I only see you, Seishu. You, and only you.”)

At eighteen, he comes home after wandering the world, thinking maybe he can ultimately stop his journey to obtain something because he had someone all along.

-----

At twenty-one, home looks a lot like the one from his childhood. A modest one-bedroom apartment with an equally small living room and kitchen, but there’s still the sound of pencils scribbling as Seishu writes down the grocery list and the air conditioner still hums through the summer daze.

Life feels so calm that everything before this moment feels like a fever dream. He wakes up next to Seishu, drinks coffee — black for him, two sugars and heavy on the milk for Seishu — together before they part ways for work or whatever they have for the day. They take turns picking dinner or leave it to the roulette when they can’t decide, and sometimes they go out with their friends for drinks at night.

Within these four walls of the apartment, there are memories immortalized as pictures, and furniture far too expensive for a little place like this. Heels line up in the doorway, name-brand jackets fill the closet, a set of matching silverware picked out together.

A home meant for two, and love blankets every crevice in this small home and his heart.

Home, Koko thinks, perchance is a person all along as he stares at Seishu, who only smiles and holds out his hand as he catches his eyes. Koko reflectively smiles back and laces their fingers together.

“You ready?” Seishu asks, a grocery list in hand and his heart in the other.

“With you? Always,” he responds back with a grin, knowing he equally holds Seishu’s heart too.

Home, Koko thinks, is definitely Seishu all along.

#kokonui #kokoinu #inukoko #koko x inupi #koko x inui #kokonoi hajime x inui seishu #sometimes i write things #happy birthday rissa!!#you deserve to be celebrated every day because the world truly is a better place with you in it <3 #there is not a day that goes by without me smiling or laughing because of you #i await the day where we go light a car on fire and have a cute picnic right after <3 #i love you so much <3 #thank you for being born #i personally am rooting for inupi to go apeshit #but in this house we stan soft kkn :')#keep ur eyes out for a possible short kkn series after HUEHUEHUE #tr fic #tokyo revengers fic #tokyo revengers

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tomionefinds · 3 years

Note

hey i was wondering if you could get me some tomione oneshots

Hey Anon,

Sorry work got very busy and wasn't able to keep up with regular One Shot Wednesdays. SO here's a one shot Wed for you released on a Monday. -JD

One Shot Wednesday (7/8/2021)

Soufflés and War by quinault E/Ma | One Shot | 4k “Hi! I’m Hermione Granger, and this is my first time on the Great British Bake Off. I have a dentistry practice in West London which I inherited from my parents, but whenever I’m not on the job I love baking! Anything from pastries to savoury things. My friends and family call me a witch in the kitchen” she laughs. “I’m really excited to be here and see just what the judges will think of my creations!” — In which Hermione Granger enters the Great British Bake Off, and Tom Riddle is her judge. [Oneshot]

Toxic by prettylittlepetticoats T+ | One Shot | 1k 'It was almost like an Imperius, but worse, much worse. At least under an Unforgivable it wouldn't have been her; it would have been a lie and she could have fought out from under it, at least then she wouldn't be a traitor' He whispers to her through the locket and soon, soon she is his completely / Tomione, Oneshot

A Broken Window by Dreamofsummer E/Ma | One Shot | 3k Tom Riddle loves her Tom Riddle misses her Tom Riddle will make her come back ... whatever the cost For the Tomione Smut Festival 2021 - Resurrection Stone

Wandlore by Ciule E/Ma | One Shot | 5k Oh, the locket whispered to her too, not only the boys, telling her all kinds of tales, and it had even suggested a ludicrous idea, that she’d take the Horcrux to Voldemort, getting a reward beyond all measure. Hermione had only snorted, but that idea had set her mind on a new path, with a bold, brilliant idea that could change the war, if only executed right. And … when did she ever fail? This would work, she was positive. She, the Brightest Witch of Her Age, could do this, which no other man or woman would attempt.

Pawn Shop Blues by Wutheringwishes17 E/Ma | One Shot | 5k Hermione can never escape her brother. She knows that now, but it is far too late. Once she thought herself in love with him, but how can one love a monster? [Slightly inspired by Heathers.] Written for Tomione Smut Fest 2021 | Prompt: Orphaned

Revenant by quinault E/Ma | One Shot | 3k “Hermione” he whispered into her cool, pale skin, crushing her mouth against his. She tasted exactly how he remembered, like raspberries and mint and something slightly tart, something that made him want to take her into his very pores. The wind picked up, rustling through the grasses of the wood, rushing through the trees. The whole world sighing in recognition.

Can Two Play? by WildKitsune E/Ma | One Shot | 5k There is a price to be paid when you get in His way.

Bloodlust by SinclaireWolf E/Ma | One Shot | 3k What happens when Hermione Granger has nothing to lose? One-shot where things go off the rails during the hunt for horcruxes.

Capitulation by pxlyhymnia E/Ma | One Shot | 3k It had been three weeks since the last time she’s seen him. Three weeks since Harry he nearly caught them fucking in the photography department changing rooms. Three weeks that she’d avoided going round to Harry’s flat to reduce the chances of her accidentally bumping into Tom. It didn’t work.

Immortal Storm by datingstilinski1967 M | One Shot | 4k How could one describe Tom Riddle? A man so above, he must learn how to dwell below. A carbon copy of the men and women around him, picking the most admirable qualities from each to create an unequivocally better man. His walk from a Warrior, his gold from a Lord, his pride from a King.

Behind Closed Doors by elizabethriddle E/Ma | One SHot | 6k Harry walks in on something in the Heads’ dorm that he was never meant to see. There’s no turning back.

Slag in an Alley by Mercurysflame E/Ma | One Shot | 2k Tom Riddle is walking home one night from Borgin and Burkes when he realizes he is being followed.

Her Purpose by FictionQueenXX E/Ma | One Shot | 1k Hermione had lost everything until he gave her a purpose.

Dead Girl Walking [Reprise] by aureliandreams E/Ma | One Shot | 3k His solution is a lie. No one here deserves to die; except for me and the monster I created.

Jagged But Tom Eats Like a Man Starved by supernovanox E/Ma | One Shot | 3k When he looks back up at her again, his eyes are dark. It sends pleasant shivers down her spine. “Do you wish to make it up to me?” “Yes,” he almost whispers, and it looks as though he didn’t even realize he said it. “Come here,” she says softly. She reaches an arm out to him. He moves to stand, and she tsks at him. He tilts his head minutely in confusion. “On your knees.”

Last Dance by Spork_in_the_Road T+ | One Shot | 1k It is not love—Tom is absolutely certain of that—but it is something startlingly closer to it than Tom ever imagined he’d feel: a sort of raw possessiveness over her that pisses him off nearly as much as it gratifies him, an understanding that she is likely the only person alive that could ever satisfy him on an intellectual level, and the only person he has ever wanted like this, even if he’s half tempted some days to strangle her and throw her carcass down in the Chamber so no one finds the body. It is strangely compelling that he can see hints of that same violent and conflicting desire in her.

#One Shot Wednesdays #on a Monday #ask tomionefinds #tomione #smut #lots of smut #one-shot wednesdays

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miraeluc · 3 years

Text

you have an anxiety attack

prompt: “after a long day you’re just trying to cook for you and your roommate, but when you accidentally switch salt and sugar the stress dawns upon you and you lose it.”

pairing: kaeya x gender-neutral reader

warnings: description of an anxiety attack, explicit language

word count: 1.6k

genre: fluff, angst

rough day?

roughest of the rough

it started in the morning - all was good until you were all dressed and ready to go

all you needed to do was brush your teeth

of course you dropped toothpaste on your new blouse and had to change because your boss would literally kill you if you strutted in there with toothpaste stains on your clothing

that didn’t upset you too much anyway,, yep, it kinda sucks but it is what it is

you went to work

that’s when it started to REALLY go downhill

first, you had to sit your ass in this tiny cubicle all day and it remained right on that chair every time you stood up

that’s what it felt like at least

then, you lost data that you’ve been working on for a MONTH

an entire month’s worth data!!!! LOST!!!!

curse you and your issue with forgetting where you put your folders

so you started over

was it worth it?

your boss hated it

you ended up dropping the project overall,, handed it over to a co-worker

your excuse was that you felt too ‘unfit’ for the whole project and he would totally be a better fit!

poor bennett

bennett is a nice guy, you always hang out with him during break

you usually talk shit about the other co-workers and he just listens and sits there like ◕ ◡ ◕

he’s just there for the food you bring him, really

he’s a little dumb so he took the project from you with no hesitation

“i’ll do it for you, dont even worry about it, y/n!”

you ended up working overtime

you had about 7 projects to finish until tomorrow morning and they were all only half-done

so you got your coffee, turned off your phone and got to work

you finished at 9pm

your work hours are 8am-5:30pm

nope, not having a great time

well, at least you can go home now!

you pack up your stuff and get up, leaving this hellhole of an office, stretching as you wait for the elevator before checking your phone to see 7 missed calls from your roommate

aka kaeya

aka boy that is most likely emotionally unavailable

aka boy that KEEPS TURNING OFF THE HEATERS TO LEAVE YOU TO FREEZE

his excuse is always that he can’t handle the warmth but you’re sure its so you whine about the cold so he can hug you to warm you up

maybe you have a teeny tiny crush on him???? BUT WHO CAN BLAME YOU

he’s a whole package - the only thing he’s lacking is emotional availability lmao

which is why you never mentioned the day by day blooming feelings you’ve been developing for him

there would be no positive outcome from you telling him. he would politely turn you down, having to explain yet again that he doesn’t see himself having actual romantic feelings to someone

you’re content with your current relationship with him

right?

kaeya is known as the fuckboy! of the city

neither of you mind, he’s having his fun

and you know that there’s much more to it

you’re very happy to have gained his trust enough for him to let his flirty side down when with you, at least

well, there’s no time to ponder over your relationship with him because you’re already sprinting to catch the last bus of the day

right as you got to the station it drove away

fuck

what now?

you have to walk home. alone. in the dark.

oh well.

usually bennett drives you home but obviously he left earlier

its only a 15 minute walk you can do it

it’s not that bad there’s street lamps hey!

not that bad until it starts to rain, apparently

by the time you get home there’s water in places rainwater shouldn’t be

kaeya is running by the time he hears the front door

“where were you??”

“why didn’t you reply to my calls??”

“do you have a slight idea about how worried i w-”

he stops when he sees your soaked figure and tired expression

“oh, y/n, what happened?”

he immediately helped you chuck off your wet coat and shoes

“i worked overtime and missed the last bus so i had to walk home”, you sighed

he nodded and hummed “Go ahead and take a shower then, wouldn’t want you to get sick now, would we?” he winked

you scoffed but nodded anyway

“yeah, especially in this coLD FUCKING APARTMENT BECAUSE YOU REFUSE TO LET THE HEATERS TURNED ON-”

you only heard him laugh before shutting the door in the bathroom and jumping into the shower, needing to warm up because you were sure your toes were about to fall off from the cold

at least the shower went well

:///

you got dressed in lounge attire when you got out of the shower, walking to the kitchen because you were very hungry

you gave bennett all your food today so you didnt have any left

he just looked so hungry

ANYWAYS

you’re in the kitchen, deciding on what to cook

if you ask kaeya he will tell you to just drink wine instead so, no

you kind of want something sweet so you decide to bake cupcakes

kaeya shows up too

“what’re you baking?”

he sat and watched as you gathered all the ingredients you need

“cupcakes. how was your day?”

you strike up a conversation - all you talked about today was work and you need some decent interaction, plus kaeya is a super nice talk partner

“good. i had a day-off today so i layed in bed all day”

you hummed, stirring the eggs and flour

“how come? you never get off”

“no reason, i was forcibly given a day off- well anyways, what i wanted to tell you about before you worried me because i thoght you were deAD when you didn’t respond, is that i need your help setting up a date for diluc-”

you stopped listening halfway

you were looking at the unopened sugar bag on the counter

you just stirred the sugar in, why is it unopened????

you look over at the open bag of salt

wait a second

you take out a little dough and taste it

FUCK

“hello??? earth to y/n?? are you even liste-”

he stops himself as soon as you look at him with your lower lip trembling

uhhhhh

he’s never been in this situation

“y/n?? why are you crying-”

he looks at the counter and the dough, then he sees the salt beside the bowl you were stirring in and leans over to try some

oh, that’s why

“oh come on, is that what you’re crying over?” he snorted

he could barely catch you when you collapsed and started sobbing

he immediately regreted what he said

“hey, y/n, it’s just a little dough! its okay-”

you just sobbed and he sat down with you, sighing and pulling you into a tight hug

you felt your lungs constricting and your hands started shaking

you didn’t even notice how antsy you felt all day until now

you gasped for air and he tightened his grip on you

“w-why am i so worthless?!”

you punched his chest

“i can’t do a single thi-ng with-out messing it up!”

punch

“i’m so us-useless”

punch

“i should just kill m-”

he immediately pulled away and cupped your face before you could finish what you were about to say

“y/n, look at me. you had a bad day - you’re not useless! you’re stressed out! you’re one of the most hardworking people that i know- and, and don’t you ever mention anything about killing yourself! i won’t let you go, not as long as im here”

you were too busy fighting against the constricting feeling in your lungs to notice the tear slipping down his cheek before he hugged you tightly again

your hands gripped at his tshirt

his hand rested over your shaky ones

it broke him

seeing you in such state hurt him so much, he felt his own heart breaking a little with every gasp you took

“come on, let’s breathe together”

his voice was soft when he spoke to you

he took a deep breath in, you following

you wrapped your arms around him and leaned your head against his chest when breathing out

hearing his heartbeat made you feel safe

he kept breathing with you until he was more than sure you could breathe comfortably again

why did he feel like this?

sure, flirting with girls is fun

and ghosting them is also fun

he usually doesn’t care about hurting them

but why does he feel the need to protect you from all bad things?

and why does your pain hurt him too?

he sighs and shakes his head as if that would clear his mind

(it doesn’t)

oh well.

taking care of your needs is more important right now

he picks you up and walks over to the couch, sitting down, placing you on his lap and hugging you

“you’re not cooking anything, we’ll order takeout.”

you sniffled and nodded

you did feel your heart flutter a little when he sat you down on him

he’s never done that

you ignore it and reside into the warmth he gives instead, nuzzling your face into his chest

he smiles softly and strokes your hair, using his free hand to type in what you were ordering

you both fell into a comfortable silence

at some point he thought you fell asleep lol

“kaeya?”

he rose his brows a little and looked down, humming

“thank you.”

additional notes: welp. this was my first drabble! it was very fun to write and i genuinely look forward to writing more! i’d appreciate it alot if you leave any feedback or even requests for drabbles :-)

#kaeya #kaeya x reader #anxiety #anxiety attack #angst #fluff #diluc #bennett #genshin impact #kaeya alberich #gender neutral s/o #genshin impact x reader #kaeya scenario #genshin impact scenarios #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya fluff #kaeya angst #genshin impact angst #genshin impact fluff

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stiltonbasket · 3 years

Note

qin su!wwx prompt!! okay so first let me establish that i find the cameraderie btwn wwx and jzx h i l a r i o u s but also i NEED to establish that i love that theyre both so fuckin dense lmao. it's line with peacock's chara to say the least XDDD so for an event prompt i was thinking- maybe jzx realizing hgj isnt in this for qin su>'s body< and is, in fact, in this for wwx, and suddenly Everything Makes So Much Sense. if u had smth else planned for that tho then wwx and jzx reluctantly bonding

Over the course of their journey, Jin Zixuan notices that Lan Wangji is being oddly...attentive towards Wei Wuxian.

Some of it is only natural, of course. Wei Wuxian is masquerading as a woman (very convincingly, he might add, what with Wei Wuxian’s new body) whom Lan Wangji is escorting back to her family from some night-hunt or other, and Lan Wangji treats him accordingly: he pays for Wei Wuxian’s food at inns, treats him with the utmost deference, and makes sure to call him guniang whenever passersby approach them. There is a certain degree of courtesy expected from him with regards to Wei Wuxian, and from Jin Zixuan, too.

But Jin Zixuan is certain that courtesy towards a woman (or a young master turned into a woman, as the case might be) does not involve looking like someone just died when Wei Wuxian refers to Jin Guangyao as his husband out of habit, or giving Wei Wuxian the healthiest foods from the dinners they all share, or glaring at Jin Zixuan with pure disdain whenever Wei Wuxian throws an arm around his shoulders. Wei Wuxian is an idiot, so he thinks Lan Wangji hates the two of them being close because he’s not used to the idea of them being siblings yet, but Jin Zixuan isn’t so sure.

A-Li used to think he would be a good matchmaker, so he decides to investigate after they leave the Moling safehouse and ride on towards Gusu.

“Wei Wuxian,” he says, pulling up alongside his brother-in-law’s horse--or Hanguang-jun’s, rather, since they only have two horses and Hanguang-jun is walking. “What do you think the ideal man would look like?”

“Huh?”

“You were fourth on the list of eligible young bachelors, and now you’re in the body of an wealthy young woman,” Jin Zixuan points out. “You definitely know plenty of attractive young men.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” frowns Wei Wuxian. “I mean, I guess, but I’ve only been introduced to people as a married woman for the last eight months. I wasn’t really looking.”

Lan Wangji looks unbearably smug. “Well, what do you think of Nie-zongzhu?” Jin Zixuan says hurriedly. “He’s good-looking, isn’t he?”

Wei Wuxian nods, and Lan Wangji’s face falls so quickly that Jin Zixuan has to bite back a snort. “He was ranked seventh when we were young, but I think that was just because of his temper,” he muses. “Even Jiang Cheng thought he shouldn’t have been ahead of Chifeng-zun, especially since he’s so much older.”

“Chifeng-zun is married,” Lan Wangji interrupts, tugging Wei Wuxian’s horse a little further away from Jin Zixuan’s. “He is no longer a bachelor.”

This is news to both Jin Zixuan and Wei Wuxian, since they’ve been out of the loop with local gossip due to being dead for the past sixteen years. Predictably, Wei Wuxian gets distracted and starts wondering aloud about the kind of girl Nie-zongzhu might have married--strong-willed, he suggests, to match Nie-zongzhu’s forcefulness, and talented in the jiandao so she could make a good cultivation partner for him.

The corner of Lan Wangji’s lip turns up. “Not at all,” he counters. “She is very kind, and sweet-tempered, and doting towards their children. She is a master of the jian and the bow, but she prefers musical cultivation and healing to the jiandao and has not night-hunted but three or four times in the last thirteen years, because their little ones are still very small. Chifeng-zun could have married no one better, for no better person exists--he is the luckiest man in the world to have wed her, and says so at every opportunity.”

Suddenly, it’s Wei Wuxian’s turn to look downcast. “Really?” he asks, in a small voice. “Is Chifeng-zun’s wife that wonderful?”

“En. She is.”

Wait, was I wrong? Jin Zixuan thinks desperately--because no one could talk about someone like that unless they cared about them, and whomever Nie Mingjue might be married to, Hanguang-jun clearly holds the lady dear in his heart.

Perhaps Lan Wangji is simply in the habit of falling in love with other people’s wives? First Qin Su, and then the mysterious Nie-furen, and then--well, there don’t seem to be any more married women with such high standing, or Lan Wangji would probably have fallen in love with them too.

What a hopeless romantic, he sighs to himself, dismissing his half-baked ideas about Lan Wangji being in love with Wei Wuxian. Maybe he’ll pick someone single next time.

#wangxian #nielan #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #qin su!wwx #my fic #jin zixuan #wei wuxian #lan wangji

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capitainelevi · 3 years

Text

Togetherness

Prompt for @rivetra-week: Harmony

Words: 3481

There was no sign of her today. Levi wondered once again who she was and why she was haunting his dreams. He couldn`t even remember her name anymore. But Levi knew he missed her. He felt himself drifting to sleep and closed his eyes.

"Happy birthday, Levi!"

Gabi and her family entered Levi`s room with a small cake, but he didn`t seem to notice their presence. Levi was gazing out the window, and his favorite love song was playing on the phonograph in the background. Gabi and Falco gifted it to him on his birthday 39 years ago, and it was still in perfect condition. They noticed the way Levi`s eyes lit up when he saw one in a display window, but they knew he would never spend money on something other than tea leaves and cleaning products. With their allowances, they were able to buy it in time for his birthday, and Levi scolded them for wasting money on him. But they knew he loved the gesture.

Falco got close to him and slowly shook his shoulder. "Levi, did you hear us?"

Levi just stared at them. His dementia was getting worse every day. When they started to notice the first signs, they forced him to see a doctor. When they heard his diagnosis, Levi just told them to take him to a nursing home. But they prepared the guest bedroom for him the next day. Levi was family, and their daughter was more than ecstatic to have him live with them.

"It`s your birthday today. It`s Christmas day, do you remember?"

Levi`s sight focused on the window again, and they wondered if he forgot about their presence already.

"Where is she?"

Falco stared at Gabi, unsure of what to say. When his disease worsened, Levi started talking about a woman. He started asking for her almost daily. Gabi and Falco sat down and tried to figure out who it could be, but Levi never had any lovers as far as they knew. They started to wonder if she was real.

Gabi smiled at him- "She should be here soon. Do you want to come downstairs and celebrate with us while you wait?"

Levi nodded, and Falco helped him get downstairs in front of the fireplace. Gabi and her daughter went to the kitchen to light the candles on the small cake they baked together.

"We should have added 81 candles."- Sofia pouted.

Gabi pinched her cheek, and she yelped in protest- "Then you should have helped me bake a bigger cake."

"Who do you think she was?"

Gabi shrugged and took the cake in her hands- "Maybe his lover, who knows? We don`t know much about his life before Marley."

They made their way back to the living room, and after he blew out the candles, Sofia hurried to get the presents from under the Christmas tree. She gave Levi one of the gifts, and he ruffled her hair. Levi tore the wrapping paper and smiled at the sight of his favorite tea leaves. No matter how poor his memory was getting, his love for tea was unscathed.

When it got dark, Falco took Levi back to his room. He helped Levi get back in his armchair for the night and turned on the music for him. He still preferred to sleep in a chair.

Levi woke up abruptly. He was lying on his back, with the sun blinding his sight. Levi used his right hand to cover his eyes... wait, he thought. He was met by something he hadn`t seen in dozens of years. His fingers were all intact. More than that, his skin wasn`t worn out by age anymore.

How odd, he thought. Levi couldn`t remember much these days, but something felt off. Did he dream it all? Being Humanity`s Strongest Soldier? The war? Getting old?

He found himself lying in the middle of a field, and Levi took a moment to cherish all the sensations. It had been years since he felt so carefree. He missed the feeling of the grass against his fingertips as he ran his hand through it, and he closed his eyes to enjoy the breeze on his skin. Levi turned his head to the side and spotted a small cottage in the distance. He used to have dreams of one before old age claimed his memories. He dreamt of the smell of freshly baked muffins and the sound of children playing in the backyard. The best ones were of her sitting on his lap on a lazy afternoon. Yes, Petra. He could remember her name now.

"Welcome home, Captain."

The voice he yearned to hear for so many years startled him, and Levi rose to his feet abruptly. His mouth went dry, and he could not seem to get a word out. Petra was as beautiful as the first moment he laid his eyes on her. Among the recruits, a small girl with fire in her eyes captured his attention.

Petra wore a long, white lace dress, with a beautiful embroidery decorating its length. She had a single white rose in her crown braid, but Levi`s attention was fixed on the shy smile she gave him. Oh, how he missed her. His memory, plagued by the passing of time, did not do her beauty justice.

"Am I..."

Petra gave him a sad smile before cutting him off.

"Dead? Yes, I`m afraid so. You died in your sleep on your 80th birthday."

Levi sat down on the grass, taking a moment to process it all. He felt confused, half-convinced it was just his mind playing tricks on him.

"I thought this was a dream."

Petra sat down on the grass next to him. She took his hand in hers, and he squeezed it back. She made small circles on his skin with her thumb in an attempt to soothe his nerves.

"If it were, would it be a bad one?"

"No," Levi answered without giving it a second thought. Dream or afterlife, he could never be bothered about getting to share it all with her.

"I thought it would be different. I didn`t feel anything. No fear, no pain."

Petra took his hand and placed it on her lap. She could feel where the conversation would be going next, and she didn`t want Levi to torment himself anymore.

Levi averted his eyes from hers. He felt a lump forming at the back of his throat, and he barely got out a whisper- "You died at such a young age. Did you..."

Petra interrupted him again. She cupped his face in her hands and turned his sight back to her.

"I was paralyzed by fear. I didn`t feel anything, I swear. It was quick."

She could see the disbelief in his eyes, but she kept going.

"I... I wish I had more time there. But we can`t fool fate, can we?"

Levi closed his eyes, still tormented by regret. He took one of her palms, and he placed a small kiss on it.

"I couldn`t get justice for you. For the guys. I`m sorry."

Petra threw her arms around his neck and pulled him into a tight embrace. Levi wrapped his arms around her, and Petra gave a smile at how much he was holding onto her."

"We didn`t want you to. There was so much hate already. What happened to us... it wasn`t your fault, Captain."

Levi sighed in relief, happy he got her forgiveness nonetheless. He ran his hand up and down her back, wishing time stood still for a moment.

Petra pulled away from him, and Levi could see the faint tears in her eyes. But the smile she gave him melted his worries away.

Levi cleared his throat before speaking- "You`re gonna get it dirty."

Petra frowned, confused at where the conversation was going.

"The dress. It`s white, what did you expect?"

Petra burst into laughter, throwing herself on the ground. She swore she could see Levi`s eye twitch at the gesture.

"I`m serious, Petra. Grass stains are a bitch to get rid of."

She took his hand in hers again, tempted to pull him down next to her.

Petra batted her eyelashes at him- "I`m sure you`ll get them out for me."

He flicked her forehead, and she gave a small yelp in protest.

"You wish, brat."

Petra turned on her stomach, and she looked up at him with a big smile on her face while her hands cupped her cheeks. She said in the sweetest voice she could manage- "I know you can`t help yourself, sir."

Levi sighed and laid down next to her. "Fine, you win. But you`re still a brat."

Petra giggled, and she moved closer to him. She placed her head in the crook of his neck, and her fingers started fidgeting with one of his shirt`s buttons.

"I`ve missed you, Levi. I`ve been waiting for you."

Levi put his arm around her and he pulled her closer to him. "I`m sorry you had to wait for so long."

Petra shook her head at his response.

"Time passes differently here, I didn`t mind. Plus, I had company. Everyone visits from time to time."

Levi felt anxious at the thought of seeing everyone again. He hoped he didn`t disappoint any of them in the end.

As if reading his mind, Petra turned his face towards hers, and she ran her finger along his cheek. "Don`t worry, they can`t wait to come to visit."

Petra was only met with silence.

"We all get together on your birthday to celebrate. Erwin, Hange, the guys, and the rest of our friends." She gave a smile. "I guess everyone loved you. We eat cake, we drink tea, and we share our stories about you." Petra gave a small laugh- "Now that I think about it, we should have cleaned too."

Levi chuckled, and Petra was surprised to see a smirk forming on his face.

"You all do a piss poor job anyway."

Petra kicked him playfully in the shoulder, and he pulled her close to him again.

"There were also some interesting people from your past that I got to meet and become close to."

"Who..."

"Isabel is the sweetest girl."

Levi felt tears forming in his eyes when he heard that name. After she died, he tried to remember her the way she used to be: cheerful, optimistic, loud, and most importantly, happy. But images of the people he cared about devastated by death still haunted his memories, up until he started to lose them.

"She and Farlan come to visit me weekly. They help me around the garden. Did you know Farlan has a green thumb?"

Levi missed them both dearly. They taught him a lesson he cherished until his life ended: that family isn`t always blood.

"Isabel`s big appetite always leaves my pantry empty. After we finish gardening, she and Farlan help me prepare lunch and bake dessert. We always have to fight with Isabel over a piece of it."

"Eld, Gunther, and Oluo are always pestering me, of course. Just when I`m having a relaxing, good day, I hear loud knocks on my front door." Petra looked up at him and smiled.

"Even in death, I can`t get some time away from them!"

Levi tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You love them."

Petra sighed and gave a small laugh- "Yeah, of course, I do. They are family, after all. My life would be so dull without their antics."

"I can tell you it is. I found myself wishing I could hear Eld tell the story of how you pissed yourself on your first mission one more time."

"He still tells it all the time!"

Petra felt a bit anxious about what was on her mind, and she told him in a low voice- "Your mom is an amazing woman."

Levi gasped, both scared and impatient to see her again. She had always been on his mind, the pain of losing her so soon following him all his life. He hoped she wouldn`t judge him for the hard choices he had to make. He did what he had to do to survive, but Levi felt he was disrespecting her memory from time to time. His mother had been nothing but kind, and Kenny almost managed to murder the values she tried to instill in him.

"She came to visit me when I got here. We`ve gotten pretty close over the years. She and your uncle come for tea sometimes." Petra gave a small laugh- "He scares me though, I`m sorry. He pulls a ridiculous number of knives out of his sleeves!"

Levi had a complicated relationship with Kenny. But after he passed away, Levi started to forgive him, to understand what he was trying to do for him.

"Your mother is very proud of you, Levi. She can`t wait to see you."

Levi didn`t know how to answer her words, so he tried to avoid the subject.

"How about your old man?"

Petra sighed, and she turned her sight to the sky.

"Papa was mad at me when he first got here. For dying so young, for missing out on so many opportunities. But he loves me too much to stay mad at me, of course. He and mama are reunited now, so I`m glad they`re happy again."

"You know, I got to meet him once."

Petra covered her eyes with her arm, embarrassed to be relieving this moment again.

"He embarrassed me so much! I wanted to come back just for the sole reason to stop him from running his mouth!"

Levi averted his eyes from her- "I feel like neither of us would have been bothered by that."

Petra bit her lip, the emotions threatening to overwhelm her. She didn`t want to ruin this reunion with her tears, though she knew Levi wouldn`t mind.

"I wish I could have been there by your side. To help you watch over the kids."

"Over the brats, you mean."

Petra laughed at his correction- "They weren`t that bad, Captain. They all loved you."

There was a silence in the air, as neither of them wanted to talk about what Eren did.

"I wish I could see the sea."

Levi wished that for her as well.

"I wish I could have felt the waves against my legs. To run my fingers through the sand, to feel how soft it is. I wanted to taste the water as well, to see how salty it truly is."

Levi squirmed at the thought- "Are you crazy? Like I would ever let you do something so stupid!"

Petra pouted, but Levi held his position- "Fine, have it your way."

Petra whispered- "I`m sorry you had to go through so much."

"It was alright in the end. I had two annoying brats to keep me busy."Levi appreciated everything Gabi and Falco did for him, considering them his family over the years.

Petra barely listened to him, too lost in her thoughts- "I`m so sorry I had to leave so soon. I wanted to be there for you. I wanted to support you, to be a shoulder for you to cry on when you needed it."

Levi turned his head towards hers and caressed her cheek with his thumb. "I don`t cry, silly."

"But you did. The night you lost us."

Levi felt his throat tightening, not expecting to hear that response from her. He barely whispered- "Did you see that?"

Petra just nodded, and a single tear rolled down her cheek when she squeezed her eyes shut.

"You taught me to live without regret, Levi. But I did die with one."

Petra raised to her knees and kept her head down, gathering the courage to speak the words she`d been longing to tell him for more than 40 years. The tears flowed freely on her cheeks, and when she met his eyes, she could see his worry in them. But also hope.

"I love you."

Levi got up to his knees, and he cupped her face with his hands. He used his thumbs to clear her tears away, and they looked into each other`s eyes without breathing a word out for what felt like an eternity. Levi leaned towards her lips, and Petra closed her eyes, impatient to have them on hers. Levi captured her lips, putting all of his love and yearn into it. The sacrifices, the hurt, the pain, they were all worth it in the end.

He and Petra were one now. After wandering for so long, they were finally whole.

Levi deepened the kiss, and he could feel Petra's smile against his lips. She ran her hands through his hair and pulled him closer, eager to feel him against her. He devoured her lips until they were both out of breath.

He took her in his arms and laid her down on the grass before getting on top of her. Levi kissed her again, letting his tongue explore her mouth, before moving to lay open-mouthed kisses on her jaw. Petra wrapped her arms around him, moaning softly from the pleasure he was making her feel. Levi licked a trail down to her neck before laying soft kisses on it. He whispered I love you against the skin of her neck, and Petra whimpered, the tears threatening to fall again. She pulled him up to her lips and kissed him while holding onto him so tight he felt out of breath.

Levi pulled away, and he laid a soft kiss on the tip of her nose. Petra giggled and gave him a big smile- "Do you want to go home, captain?"

Levi couldn`t control his smile anymore. He had been longing to hear those words.

"Yes, I would very much like that." He wanted to go home for far too long.

Petra got up to her feet and offered him her hand, helping him off the ground. Petra`s smile faded away at the sight of an angry Levi.

"Tch, what did I tell you?"

Petra felt panic rise in her chest, thinking he might regret confessing his feelings to her.

"It`s ruined! I`m never getting that stain out, you might as well undress and leave it here for the fucking animals to shit on."

Petra turned her head to look at the green stain on her dress, and she burst into laughter at his antics. She was a messy kid growing up, and her father always teased her about falling in love with such a clean freak.

She let him ramble under his breath as she pulled him towards the house. Their house, she hoped.

Petra lived in a small cabin with flower pots at the windows. She had two chairs on the porch, one too many in his opinion, as he planned to have her in his lap every evening. He spotted a small vegetable garden on the side of the house, wondering if she and Farlan needed an extra hand.

When they got on the porch, Levi stopped her, and Petra frowned at his gesture. Was the house not to his liking? Did it not seem clean enough?

“Is something wrong? If you don`t like it, we can always redecorate.”

Levi kissed her to shut her up and picked her up in his arms, bridal style. It seemed appropriate, as they were starting a new chapter together. Petra yelped, surprised by his gesture, but wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Shall we, my dear?"

Petra giggled at the extremely uncharacteristic sweet talk- "Of course, my love."

Levi opened the door, and he almost hit her head on the frame. He cringed at his awkwardness, but Petra just gave him a small kiss on his cheek. He made his way to the living room and set Petra down on one of the armchairs.

Levi took a moment to take in the surroundings. It was cleaned up to his standards, and his chest filled with pride. He had trained her well. The living room was small, with some shelves filled with books, two armchairs in front of the fireplace, and a table between them. The tea Petra had prepared for them went cold, but tea was tea. He would never let it go to waste.

The room filled with music, and he turned his head to find Petra in front of a phonograph. It was his favorite song.

Petra gave him a shy smile and reached out to him- "Can I have this dance, Captain?"

Levi put the teacup down, and he wrapped her arms around her. They started moving slowly, and Petra laid her head on his shoulder. He ran his hand up and down her back, and she closed her eyes, wishing the moment never ended. They danced until evening fell, oblivious to the hours passing.

They had all the time in the world.

(x)

#rivetra weekend #rwmay2021 #rivetra #rivetra fanfiction #petra ral #rivetra fic #I hope it`s okay ❤️#rivetra headcanon #my writing

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mattholicguilt · 3 years

Text

cats in the cradle by Duck_Life

Fandoms: Supernatural [Gen, No Archive Warnings Apply] Words: 1,745

Tags: Claire Novak & Patience Turner, Cats, Psychic Abilities, Grandparents & Grandchildren, Friendship, Found Family, claire novak will see a stray animal and be like, is anyone gonna project onto this, and not wait for an answer

Summary: Claire helps Patience hone her abilities. Patience helps Claire track down a cat.

Written for SPN Women Week Day 1. Prompt: "skills"

Bub is missing again.

“Bub” is the name of a mean stray cat missing a chunk from his ear. Claire’s been leaving cat food out for the ugly old thing for weeks now, and whenever he doesn’t come running she panics.

So, for the third time, Patience finds herself enlisted in the search for a cat that Claire doesn’t even technically own. “If it’s gonna bother you this much every time,” Patience says, “why don’t you just take it in? You know, get him his shots, a collar, a microchip.”

Claire makes a face at her before turning back to look at the road. She’s been driving around the neighborhood slowly, scoping out every shrub and checking under every parked car. “Bub doesn’t want to be chained down,” she explains. “He’s a free spirit.”

Alright, well, Patience is too tired to unpack that right now. She lets it lie and looks out the passenger’s side window, alert for any signs of movement. “Maybe he was never a stray at all,” she tries, “and his owner finally tracked him down and brought him home.”

“Do you know that?” Claire asks.

Claire’s always asking if Patience knows things— what happened on Jody’s date last weekend, what Dean’s middle name is, whether or not Alex is the one who ate the last ice cream sandwich in the freezer. Patience keeps trying to explain that she can only see the future. “Psychic” might be a misnomer— her abilities are precognitive, not telepathic.

She basically gets previews, little spoilers about what’s to come. And though she’s been working at it, she can’t seem to get her psychic abilities to do the kind of reading and divination her grandma could do. She gets glimpses with no context, no backstory.

Missouri Moseley could walk into a room and feel every ounce of heartbreak, grief, hope and faith in the people standing there. Patience can barely pick up on it when Alex and Claire are pissed at each other.

Still, Claire brings her along whenever the cat goes missing. Seems to think her ESP can home in on missing animals. Patience keeps telling her otherwise, and yet here she is, once again. That’s the trouble with having no social life and no better plans.

Maybe she should join a book club.

Claire rounds the corner, eyes darting around for any sight of the mangy cat. The first time Bub vanished from Claire’s sight, all the neighbors seemed intent to help. They explained they hadn’t seen the cat, but hoped Claire would find him soon and offered baked goods and platitudes in the meantime.

But these things have an expiration date. You can only lose the cat so many times before the routine gets old and the neighbors lose interest.

“My educated guess ?” Patience sighs. “The cat’ll come back when it gets hungry. Just like before.”

Claire makes a tch sound and mouths “educated guess” under her breath. Apparently, because Patience is psychic she’s supposed to be omniscient. “So which is it?” Claire says. “Is he back with his ‘real’ owners or is he going to come home when he gets hungry?”

“Don’t be a jerk,” Patience says. “I’m here, aren’t I? I’m helping you.”

“... Yeah. You are,” Claire says, ducking her head. “Sorry.” Her eyes scan the road ahead, looking for the telltale streak of a cat darting out from under a parked car or vanishing around a tree trunk. Still nothing. “Hey, Patience the Pet Psychic,” Claire says. “You should write that down, that’d be a great children’s book.”

“Very funny,” Patience says, rolling her eyes. She’s silent for a few moments and then says, “Cla-aire the Monster Slayer.”

“That doesn’t really rhyme.”

“Sure it does.”

When the sky darkens and the streetlights flick on, Claire drives them back to the house, Bub-less and dejected. “I’m sure he’s fine,” Patience tries.

Claire bunches her shoulders, the collar of her leather jacket looking like a cat’s raised hackles. Maybe, Patience thinks, that’s the connection— Claire in many ways resembles an angry cat. She and Bub might be kindred spirits.

“I’m just tired,” Claire says, yanking the keys out of the ignition. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”

Patience considers pointing out that Claire could at least ask instead of just assuming , considers reminding Claire that she has her own life outside of playing “pet psychic.”

But she doesn’t actually have anything to do tomorrow. Or the rest of the week. And as futile as it feels riding around looking for a runaway cat, it is something to do. And it makes Claire feel better.

And… straining her psychic muscles to pick up on any trace of the old tomcat is at least better than doing nothing and letting her abilities degrade. Over the last year, she’s been trying to find ways to train her brain, shape her psychic visions into something useful.

Jody’s supportive, but she, like most people, doesn’t know anything about being psychic. Kaia’s got a fraught relationship with her own special skills and usually chooses not to talk to Patience about seeing the future, and Alex is so entrenched in nursing and hunting that the few “normal” moments she gets at home are devoted to unwinding and relaxing.

Which makes Claire Patience’s most ardent supporter in developing her psychic abilities. A very grouchy, blonde and mostly clueless Yoda. What she lacks in background knowledge she makes up for in persistence.

“Hey, Patience, guess which hand?” Claire will ask, holding the last fortune cookie behind her back. “Hey, Patience, what number am I thinking of?” Claire will ask, perched on the arm of the couch. “Hey, Patience, heads or tails?” Claire will ask, flipping a coin to catch it in midair.

That’s not how it works. That’s not how any of it works— Patience can’t predict things at will. Her psychic visions operate on a schedule of their own, with no concern for Patience’s own convenience or comfort. One minute, she’s watching shitty reality TV while Alex nods off on her shoulder. The next, she’s watching Jody narrowly avoid being bitten by a vampire.

It’s a lot different from just guessing a coin toss. Still. Patience can’t help but think that her grandma would’ve passed all of Claire’s little tests with flying colors.

That night, Patience doesn’t dream about anything— at least, not anything useful. She has an anxiety dream about being lost in Aldi, roaming the aisles with increasing frustration. But nothing about the future. Nothing about Bub the cat.

She’s pouring herself a bowl of cereal when Claire stomps inside, the porch door swinging shut behind her. “Still gone,” she says darkly, grabbing the cereal box and her own bowl. “Food hasn’t been touched.”

“Claire,” Patience says, “why don’t we just go to the SPCA? You can get yourself a cat that’s not, you know—”

“What? Not damaged? Not a lost cause? Not hard to love?”

Whoa, Patience wants to say. “A cat that’s not missing ,” she finishes. “We can get him his shots and a collar and everything.”

“I don’t— I don’t just want some random cat,” Claire says. “I want to find Bub. I want… I want to find him and bring him home. I have to bring him home.”

“I know,” Patience says, and just like that she does . She does know.

She knows everything, feels everything, the aching loss in Claire’s bones that’s both recent and so, so old. Memories of Claire hitchhiking and stealing and conning her way through the country, desperately chasing a mother who was desperately chasing a dead man. Jimmy Novak’s voice in her head, his face seen through Claire’s eyes, Please, Castiel, take me. Just take me. Again, his forehead pressed to hers, Take care of your mom, okay, bub?

Bub.

Patience looks at Claire. Sees her, in a way she hasn’t been able to see anyone before. “Bub… ‘bub’ is what your dad used to call you.”

Claire squints at her. “Uh. Yeah,” she says. “Wait, I didn’t… I didn’t tell you that.”

“No,” Patience breathes, meeting her eyes across the kitchen, “you didn’t.”

Slowly, a grin spreads across Claire’s face. “Holy shit , Patience, you just… ? You just did that. You, like, read me.”

“I, uh, I didn’t know. That I could do that,” Patience says, caught between marveling at this new development and feeling self-conscious at intruding on Claire’s emotions and her past.

Claire doesn’t seem put off at all. She’s actually bouncing with excitement. “We gotta test this out. Oh my God. It’s like a whole new Pokemon evolution for you.”

“It’s not really. Like that. In any way.”

But Claire is already humming the Pokemon theme song. She grabs her car keys. “Alright, well, let’s go look for that cat. I’ve got a good feeling about today.”

“I read you, Claire, that doesn’t mean I can read the cat,” Patience reminds her.

“Yeah, yeah, but you can still help me look,” Claire says. “I don’t need your third eye, just the two on your face.”

“That’s… yeah, fine,” Patience acquiesces. To be honest, she’s buzzing with the knowledge of what she can do with her powers. If Claire’s happy to be her test subject, she’ll spend all day with the girl. “Just let me grab a coffee.”

“Ooh, me too. Wait!” She wiggles her fingers toward Patience. “Do you Know how I like my coffee?”

“Half-and-half. And enough sugar to kill you,” Patience reels off. “But that’s not because I’m psychic. I’ve just seen you fix yourself coffee before.”

“Y’know, I think the line between ‘psychic’ and ‘observant’ is thinner than you might think.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Patience says, and then pretends to stumble backward toward the table, overacting the part. “Oh, oh, I’m having a vision… I see you … making coffee for us…”

Claire rolls her eyes, but she dutifully sets her keys down and busies herself with getting the travel mugs out. “That’s not gonna work for everything, you know.”

“Aaah I see you bringing Jody’s suit to the dry cleaners next week. I also see you driving me to the science museum.”

“Hilarious.”

Patience smiles at her. It’s nice to have someone else get excited about her powers. It’s nice to be allowed to be excited about this, to learn a new skill and have it mean something good to someone besides herself. She doesn’t feel like a freak or a failure. She just feels… like a psychic.

She feels like her grandma would be proud.

#spnwomenweek #day 1: skills #patience turner #claire novak #spn #supernatural

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george-mackay-macfine · 3 years

Text

Let's Play a game - CH.3

Chapter three of let's play a game, as usual pick your own Jude. I know I have!

Tag list: @neocil @cjand10

If you want to join the LPAG tag list, let me know.

If Jude Hastings thinks he can show up at my family brunch and act like he wasn’t committing an act of war, he sure had another thing coming.

I was going to be the best’ girlfriend’ this man had ever seen. I was going to be such a convincing girlfriend that his parents would be begging him to propose to me by the time I break his heart. I was going to be that girl that all his friends, colleagues and all his family compare his next girlfriend to.

I was going to be the girl who destroyed Jude Hastings for other women.

“Hi.” I smiled at the female officer who sat at the front desk. She looked borderline depressed with her piles of paperwork around her. “I’m here to see Jude Hastings.”

“Name.” She drawled out.

“Darcy Edwards.” I plastered the fakest smile on my face as she picked up her desk phone.

“What is your reasoning to see Officer Hastings?”

“I’m his girlfriend,” I held up the picnic basket by my side as the woman eyes widened. “And I brought him dinner.” I put the basket on the bench and riffled through finding the container of cupcakes I’d baked - Oh yeah, I’d also baked dessert - “Cupcake?” I offered the now open container of sugary sweets to the woman who looked at them like they’d offended her entire family. “There is chocolate and vanilla.” She didn’t speak, just kept looking at me.

“Hastings… There’s a woman here to see you.” She looked me up and down. “Claims she’s your girlfriend.”

“Darcy.” I prompted right as she put the phone down.

“He’ll be out in a few minutes if you sit down.” She mumbled before looking back down at her open file.

I guess that’s a no to the cupcake, then.

I pulled the container back, shoving the lid back on and storing it back inside the basket before walking over to the waiting chairs. I put the basket on one and began to fiddle with my dress.

A long summer maxi dress with sandals was the best accompaniment to this whole dinner scheme of mine. Not only was it workplace appropriate, but it gave off this virginesque vibe which would only help me win over his colleagues.

Hastings would have no clue what was hitting him.

“Darcy?” I turned at the familiar voice. Standing holding the door open was Jason Sato. Hastings partner and one of the many people I’d gone to high school with who didn’t seem to want to leave this damn town. “I didn’t actually believe him when he told me you were here to see him.” He began to laugh.

“What do you mean?” I picked the basket up and walked towards him. “Is Jude coming?” I held the basket up slightly. “I made him dinner.”

“Is it poisoned?”

“What?” I faked as gasp - poisoning it would have been too obvious. “Why would it be poisoned.”

“Because the last time you made food for him, you put laxatives in it.” Oh yeah.

“That was high school, Jason.” I gave a giggle. Sweet and innocent. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to poison my boyfriend; he’s too cute for that.”

“It was only two years ago,”

“Was it?” I tapped the side of my head gently. “Bad memory.”

“So you and Jude finally put it all behind you, huh.”

“Sure did.” I smiled as Jude appeared behind him. “Hi Bunny.” I beamed at him. Relishing in the way, his smile dropped at the use of his new nickname.

“Bunny?” Jason tried to hold in a laugh as I nodded idiotically. “Wow.”

“What you got in there?” Hastings pointed to the basket.

“I made your favourite.” I lifted the basket some more. “Egg salad sandwiches and cupcakes.”

“Egg sandwiches are your favourite food?” Jason raised an eyebrow at Hastings. Absolutely not. He hated egg salad sandwiches.

“Picnic food it is.” Hastings amended.

“Did you want to join us for dinner?” I stepped towards Hastings, who wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me back against him. “I made plenty for everyone.” Jason looked between Hastings and me. “You don’t mind, do you, Bunny?” I looked up at Hastings with a wide smile, the smile only becoming broader as I heard Jason let out a snort of laughter.

“Of course not,” Hastings grimaced, leaning down kissing my cheek.

“I am only saying yes because I want to see more of this.” Hastings grabbed my hand and led me through the police officers towards their break room. I made sure to smile and wave at everyone who looked at us, cementing myself as the polite and sweet girlfriend I was.

“How has your day been?” I asked Hastings as I began to grab all the items out of the picnic table, laying them out in front of the two seated men. “Catch any bad guys today?”

“Not yet.” Hastings grabbed a can of root beer I put down in front of him. “How has your day been, babe?”

“Babe?” I pushed my bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. “You never call me babe.”

“What does he call you then?” Jason asked mid-bite.

“He usually calls me wifey.”

“You what?” Jason spun to look at Hastings while I struggled to keep the shit-eating grin off my face.

“What can I say? When I see something, I want I go for it.” He picked up one of the sandwiches. When he sat back down correctly, he looked at me again, maintaining eye contact as he began to smile. “But, baby. If you’re happy to let people know I intend to make you my wife, then I’m happy to call you that in public. I just thought you didn’t want people to know.”

A challenge.

“Of course Bunny.” I walked around the table and sat down in his lap. “You know I want nothing more than to win this big heart in here.” I tapped his chest. “If you want everyone to know you intend to marry me, then I’m okay with it if you tell them.” Do it, Darcy. Win this one. “It’d make me happy, actually.” I kissed his lips, fighting off the bile that rose with the action.

“Sato.” A voice bellowed from beyond the break room, giving me a reason to break the bile raising kiss. “Call for you at your desk, line three.” Jason stood up slowly, looking at us as if we were some mutation.

“Right, coming.” He called back to the voice. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.” I smiled, watching Jason walk out, the door shutting behind him.

“Is this your feeble attempt at a surprise attack,” Hastings whispered in my ear, his chin resting on my shoulder.

“You mean like yours from this morning?”

“I didn’t think we were playing dirty, Edwards.”

“We weren’t, then you crashed family Sunday brunch.”

“You needed your wallet,”

“Then you shouldn’t have lifted it from my purse.” I turned to look at him. “You started this. I’m finishing it.”

“Oh no, this is just the beginning… Wifey.” A twisted smirk covered his lips. “You know that comment I made about no more pranks.”

“Of course,” I remembered everything he said that morning.

“I take that part back.” He nodded towards my outfit. “After this little prank, I think everything is fair game.”

“Prank?” I shook my head. “This is no prank. I wanted to make my big strong man some dinner.” I poked his cheek as I spoke.

“You know I hate eggs.”

“No, I knew eggs give you insane gas,”

“Tamato, tomato.”

“Whoopsies.”

“I’m not eating them.” He looked at the sandwich.

“What’d I miss.” Jason sauntered back in.

“Nothing.” I turned back to him. “Jude was just going to try the sandwiches and tell me what he thought.” I spun around to face Hastings. “Isn’t that right, Bunny.”

“Darcy…”

“It took me a long time to make it all, the sandwiches and the cupcakes.”

“It’s lovely of you, Darcy.”

“Thank you, Julian. If only my boyfriend felt the same way.”

“Try one, man. They’re good.” Julian slid a sandwich over to him. Julian and I both watched as Hastings disgruntledly unwrapped the foil that wrapped the sandwich. Taking half of it, he brought it to his lips.

“Take a big bite! Make sure you get all the flavours.” I clapped my hands together. Honestly, I have never wanted anything more than for this sandwich to react badly with Hastings’s gut. The idea of people thinking he shit himself is nearly funnier than it would be if he actually shit himself.

“Of course.” He muttered, bringing the sandwich to his mouth. To my surprise, he took a massive bite out of it, more than I’d expected him t take. As he chewed, Jason and I watched on. “Wow,” He reached for the root beer, taking a long gulp. “Nice.”

“Try a cupcake now.” I grabbed one of the cupcakes and scooped the icing off with my finger. I was bringing it to my lips before Hastings redirected my finger to his lips. I felt his tongue work around my fingertip, sucking off all the sugary sweet vanilla icing.

“Okay, you two might just be enough to gross me out.” Jason broke us from our moment.

“That was my icing.” I sighed, pulling my finger back. I subtly wiped it on Hastings shirt, thankful that Jason couldn’t see.

“Delicious.” He laughed. “You should try one.” He looked over at Jason.

“Give me your finger, Darcy.” He winked at me.

“Sorry mate, But you’ll need to find your own girl.” His hands wrapped tighter around my waist.

“I should get going.” I unwrapped Hastings arms from around my waist. “I’ve got class tomorrow.”

“I finish in an hour. Why don’t you go to my place.”

“I don’t have clothes, Bunny.” I loved seeing a part of his soul die when I used that nickname, thank you, google.

“Well, go home, and I’ll swing by and get you on the way home.”

“He wants to romance you, Darcy, by the sounds of it.” Jason cackled, unwrapping a cupcake.

“Is that true?”

“Of course it is.” His hand ran down my back, stopping at the swell of my hip. “Romance is my middle name.”

“Now I’m sure your mother told me your middle name was Fredrick.”

“Oft.” Julian hissed. “That’s a sexy name right there.”

“Isn’t it just,” I giggled, throwing my hair over my shoulder. I knew by the look on Hastings’s face he wished I were dead right now, and I knew he could tell by the look on my face that I was loving this more than anything.

Payback is a bitch.

“I better go.” I picked up my purse and walked to the door. “Can you bring those back to me whenever?”

“I’ll bring them by tonight when I come to get you.” Jude stood and walked behind me. “I’ll be back.” He called over his shoulder. “Let’s go.” He swatted my ass, causing me to flinch forward. “Didn’t mind it the other night.” He winked.

“You bloody bastard.” I muttered under my breath as he scooted past me. “I’ll kill you.” I growled as he grabbed my hand, pulling me through the station. “When you get home, I thought we could take a bath together.” I began to rattle. “And maybe I can give you another facial, and we can watch the notebook.” I thundered as we passed by a group of highly masculine-looking officers. “Like we did last week, you seemed to like it. I’ll even use the pink face cream.”

“Jesus.” Hastings hissed, shaking his head. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

“You don’t have to.” I passed him pushing open the same door I’d entered only minutes ago.

“I’m walking you to your car,” He confirmed, holding the door open so I could move through the threshold. “C’mon.” His hand grabbed mine, pulling me along behind him. We passed by the silent woman on the front desk and out into the warming summer air. “You are -“

“Incredible?”

“No.”

“Amazing… Phenomenal… Astounding… bewildering… bewitching…”

“Insane… mad… cretinous.”

“Oh a big boy word.” We’d reached my car by now, but Hastings still wasn’t letting go of my hand. “Can I have my hand back now?”

“I don’t know.” He leant back against the car, pulling me into his chest. “I rather like the way it feels in mine.” His other wrapped around my waist, holding my body tightly to his.

“I think we need to clear some things up.” I tried to pull my hand back from him. “This whole facade thing doesn’t have to happen all the time… only when we’re around people.”

“No, sweetheart.” He nuzzled his nose into the underside of my jaw, breathing deep. “I’m going to make you fall madly in love with me.”

“Whose says I’m gonna let you?”

“Whose says your gonna stop me?” His lips crawled up my jaw before moving across the skin of my cheek towards my lips. He flipped us over, so I was trapped up against the car “Darcy,” When did his voice become so husky, and why is it sending a shiver up my spin. “Whose going to stop me?” Why did the idea of his lips on mine seem so appealing? Why did I feel like I was starving? And without the feeling of his lips against mine, I was going to die. “I don’t think you’re going to stop me, Darcy.”

He was right. I wasn’t going to stop him.

Without a second thought, I pulled his head, so our lips met. His hand let go of mine and ran up, grabbing onto my face, keeping me locked to him. My tongue traced his bottom lip. I wanted more. His lips left mine again, kissing all over the skin on my face.

“Baby.” I grabbed onto his face this time and reattached our lips. My hands wandered the expanse of his body, feeling all the muscles I was reluctant to remind myself about. “Darcy, we need to stop.” I shook my head against his lips, my own going to his neck. His hands left my body completely resting against the car on either side of my head as I kissed his neck. “Believe me, I don’t want to stop this either, but if we don’t - We’re going to end up naked on the street, and I don’t think that’s appropriate for an officer of the law.”

Dammit, he was right.

“Your right.” I pulled away from him, my chest heaving. “I should save shows like that for when people are around.” He let out a chuckle.

“What games do you have planned in that twisted head of yours.” His fingertips tapped my temple gently.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” I pushed his body away from mine, moving so I could open my drivers’ door.

“Well, was your show in there, was that how it was supposed to happen?”

“Let’s just say, it’s not exactly how I planned it - I expected more people wanting cupcakes, I mean they’re cupcakes c’mon - but it’s turning out better than I thought.” I stopped as I was about to step into the car. “You’re going to fall in love with me, Jude Hastings, and then I’m going to break your heart into a million little bits.” Disturbingly he smiled. Not the reaction you really wanted from a man when you tell him you’re not only going to break his heart but also shatter it into a million parts.

“I’m sure you will, Darcy.” He stepped back away from the door. “But I suppose the real question is, will I break yours first.”

“Don’t count on it.” I slipped into the car.

“I’ll see you soon.” He called out as I turned on the ignition. I rolled my window down and stuck my head out.

“You won’t see me if I don’t answer the door.”

“You will.” He winked before turning and walking back down the path we’d walked together moments ago.

As I took off, my mind was consumed by one thing.

Jude Hastings.

Thoughts of him clouded my senses as I drove, and the feeling of his hands on my hips as he pulled me closer to him left chills on my legs.

He was good, but I was going to be better.

#george mackay #George Mackay Imagine #Dylan O'brien #dylan o'brian imagine #Dylan O'brien GIF #calahan skogman #Calahan Skogman imagine #Harry Styles #harry styles imagine #Ben Hardy #ben hardy imagine

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the-angriestpineapple · 4 years

Text

Love and War (Miruko x Fem Reader)

Rating: Explicit

Characters: Usagiyama Rumi / Miruko

Inspiration: My SECOND piece for the Citrus Dome Discord server’s Gods AU collab. It’s a bonus! Written mostly for my partner and Peach, because they love her. Masterlist is here.

Prompt: Worship has always been a part of your daily routine. Each season you place the fruits of your labor at the altar. Every day you pray. It’s human nature, seeking answers from the Gods.

But you never expected one to answer…

Word Count: ~4.6k

You yell out a war cry as your sword falls, the metal making a harsh clang against the shield of your opponent. You’re in the middle of a war, and fighting for your life. Most of your fellow warriors have been killed and there is a scant few still remaining on the field. The enemy forces have been whittled down as well, but there’s definitely more of them than are of you. These were forces of a man who was trying to take over any country he could, and you were defending the smaller villages in the area since they couldn’t defend themselves. You had prayed to your goddess that morning, a goddess of strategy and war, and all you could do was hope that she would not allow you to fail. You hear a cry of pain to your left, a voice that you know. It’s one of your friends, a man you’ve known since childhood, and you make the mistake of looking toward the source. You see your friend fall, but then feel a searing pain in your side as well. The momentary lapse of concentration may have just cost you your life. You see the man you’d been fighting run off toward another of your comrades as you sink to the ground. Your vision goes black at the rims and you feel your sword fall from your hand before your eyes shut and you hit the ground hard. Your mouth makes one word as you lose consciousness.

Miruko.

You feel yourself coming to consciousness, your mind flashing through your death. You’re in Tartarus, you’re on the beach, waiting to take the ferry to the underworld. You’re dead. Your goddess didn’t hear you. With a heavy heart you open your eyes, thinking about how many of your friends you would be making the journey with, only to find yourself in your temple of worship. You stare up at the statue of Miruko feeling absolutely dumbfounded. How did you get here? How did you survive? “Good, you’re awake!” The unfamiliar tone draws your attention, and you look up to see an absolutely gorgeous woman walking toward you. Your eyes widen as you look her over. Dusky skin. Flowing white hair with two silken ponytails atop her head. Strong arms and thighs revealed by the cut of her tunic. Cocky smile on her face. You were staring at your goddess, at the patron of this temple. You were staring at Miruko. She grins wider at your expression and lets out a sharp bark of a laugh. “You’re confused, I can tell. That’s fair. I can explain. First, no, you aren’t dead. You were supposed to be, but I can’t let my favored devotee die just yet. You will eventually, obviously, being mortal and all. But the underworld can’t have you yet.” She shrugs, reaching for a peach on the offering table under her statue and taking a large bite out of it. She says it so casually, as if she doesn’t care what the god of the underworld thinks. That she just does what she wants. “I’m… not dead? But what of the battle? What happened to the villages? What-” You cut off, wincing in pain as you try to sit up. Your side suddenly felt as though it was on fire. Miruko quirks a brow, placing the half-eaten peach on the table and walking over to you. She tips your face up to hers with fingers that you feel could easily snap bones and gives an almost feral smile. “The villages are safe. None can hope to stand against me on the field of battle.” There’s a wild edge to her tone that chills you to the core and you nod. Like you would disagree with her, especially to her face. Especially with that wildness in her eyes.

“T-thank you.” She stares at you with that feral grin for a few moments longer before it falls into a softer smile. “It felt right to step in. And besides,” She drops your chin, rolling her shoulders. “It’s been ages since I had a good fight.”

She’s as terrifying as she is alluring, that’s for sure. You look down, wanting to avoid her piercing gaze, and realize that you’re wearing nothing but a bandage around your chest. Your eyes widen and you pull the blanket up to try and protect at least a little bit of modesty. This apparently strikes Miruko as amusing, since she starts laughing. Your face colors in embarrassment as she wipes at her eyes. “Come now, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” She gestures to her own very filled out feminine form. She isn’t wrong, but it doesn’t make you any less self conscious. She smirks a little and looks back to the fruit bowl, plucking out a few figs. It’s a good thing you offer her fruit, she seems to like it. But then she brings the figs over to you, and holds them out. Wanting you to take them. “I can’t have those,” you gasp immediately. “They’re for-” You cut off, and Miruko raises a brow and smirks. They’re for her. And she can distribute her offering as she sees fit, right? Gods, if the High Priestess could see you right now she would have a stroke. Your shaky hand rises and your fingertips brush her palm as you take the figs from her hand. “There you go. Good girl. You need to eat to get better. I’m not exactly a healer, after all.” She turns from you to retrieve her peach and you’re relieved she didn’t see the shudder that went through you at the praise. This was so strange. Most of your life you prayed to this goddess. You joined her order when you were scarcely out of childhood. You trained to be a warrior, vowed to protect those who needed you, just like she does. And just as you thought she had turned from you, here you were. In her presence. With her feeding you her offering fruit. “Why…?”

Miruko quirks a brow as she looks back at you, peach halfway to her mouth. “Why? Well, I can’t be the goddess of everything. I may have called in a favor with Hawks to make sure you weren’t gonna die on me anyway, despite my interference.” Hawks, the god of healing. Also medicine, archery, music, and poetry. The goddess leans on the table and brings the peach to her mouth, but pauses. “Ya know, Hawks is a bit of an overachiever now that I think about it.” She takes her bite and chews thoughtfully, looking up at her own statue.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Her eyes dart back to you, and you flinch. You never realized that her eyes were red. All the depictions you’ve seen of her have been in stone, and it makes her even more intimidating. “I meant, um, why save me?”

Miruko stares at you and takes another bite of her peach, not blinking as she chews. It’s a few agonizing moments of silence, but then she gives a half smile. “Because I wanted to. Haven’t you ever been taught not to question the gods?” Your eyes widen, thinking you just offended her, but she chuckles. “I’m kidding, calm down. You’re gonna need to relax if I’m gonna be here making sure you heal. Now, eat those figs and get some rest. Hawks said you’re gonna sleep a lot at first.” You look back down at the fruit in your hands and slowly lift one to your mouth. Of course the goddess was given the best of the crop, so the figs were almost unbearably sweet. You eat all three, and she gives one approving nod before pushing off the table. “Good, now sleep.” You weren’t sure if you could, with your literal patron goddess in front of you. But once you slowly laid back down and closed your eyes sleep easily claimed you.

------------------------------

When you woke again you felt much more rested, and this time when you cautiously sat up there was no stabbing pain. You feel your side and find that it doesn’t hurt at all, which surprises you. You’d been dealt a mortal blow, surely it couldn’t just be gone. But it seemed to be. Along with your bandages, apparently. You were now wearing a simple tunic instead. You glance around the room looking for a sign of Miruko, but you don’t see her. Maybe she was gone. Maybe she saved you at that was all she wanted. You slowly slide from the bed, wanting to look around but not wanting to injure yourself in case you aren’t as healed as you seem to be. You seem to be okay though, and you feel confident enough to look around. This room is the main offering room in the temple, with the huge statue of Miruko dominating the center. Gone are the fruit offerings from the table, and in their place looks to be something covered by a linen cloth. Curiosity gets the best of you. You walk over to the cloth and slowly pull it away. Under it is a small loaf of bread, olives, more figs, and a bowl of soup. Along with the food is a note.

ΦΑΕ αυτο. Eat this.

You know it’s been left for you, and it smells amazing. You don’t waste time picking up the bowl and drinking a third of it down. You can practically feel your energy going up with each swallow. The bowl goes back to the altar, and you grab the bread next. You suddenly feel ravenous, like you haven’t eaten for days. You rip hunks off the bread and swipe it through the broth of the soup. It tastes fresh baked, and the grain compliments the spices of the soup perfectly. You aren’t quite back to normal yet but you feel like you’re getting there. You’re sharp enough to hear footprints coming up behind you though. You turn, not entirely sure who you’re going to see. The High Priestess? Maybe Miruko came back? You definitely don’t expect to see a man with messy blonde hair approaching you, and your body is shifting into a defensive position without even thinking about it. He holds his hands out, eyes widening. “Whoa whoa whoa, little warrior, I come in peace. I’m just here to check on you. You’ve been sleeping for a while.” You don’t shift out of your pose, eyes narrowing. The man drops his hands and smirks. “Miruko always has the most suspicious followers. Fine.” Large red wings unfurl from his back, and he presses off the stone with his foot. He rises in the air and hovers a foot or so off the ground. Only now do you rise from your pose, eyes widening. “That’s more like it. Hawks, god of medicine, archery, music, poetry, and luckily for you and Miruko… healing.” He sweeps into a bow in midair, and you can’t help but smile a little. He’s pretty charming, though you would imagine that a god of music and poetry would be. He sinks gracefully back down to the ground and folds his wings back. “Ah, a smile! That’s better. So, songbird, I see you’ve eaten. Good. You’ve been asleep for nearly two days straight.” He shuffles closer to you and leans forward, getting very in your space. You can’t help but pull back, which makes him grin. “Your skin is a better color. Less pale. Eyes are responsive.” He holds a hand out and presses it to your forehead before you can move. “No fever, so I doubt there’s an infection. There’s just one problem left.” His face falls, seriousness taking it over. A problem? You bite your lip, wondering what was wrong, but then Hawks breaks out into a grin again. “A cutie like you is stuck in this temple with Miruko.” “You want your wings tied together, you overgrown pigeon?”

You both jump as the goddess strides into view, that feral grin back on her face. Hawks straightens and flings his arms wide as she approaches. “Miruko! There’s my favorite war goddess. I was just checking on your disciple here. Seems fit as a fiddle. Of course, I treated her, so obviously she would be.” He preens a little, pleased with himself. Miruko rolls her eyes and shoves him.

“Yeah yeah. You’re miraculous. Now if she’s no longer about to head to Shouta, please vacate my temple before I physically kick you out of it.” There’s a tone to her voice that sends a shiver down your spine, but Hawks just looks gleeful. “Of course. Just let me know if you need my services for anything else-ow! Fine, I’m going!” He’s scowling and rubbing his arm where Miruko punched him. He gets the last laugh in though, turning and snatching your hand up to kiss it before disappearing in a cloud of feathers and laughter as the war goddess swings again. “I’ll get that mouthy feather duster when I get back to Olympus,” she grumbles, then turns to you. “Are you alright?” She steps in closer, red eyes glancing over your form. You nod, unaware of the fact that you’re holding your breath at how close she is. “Good. Now that you can move well enough, finish eating. Then we’re going to spar.” She turns and walks away from you as your eyes widen. You were going to spar with the goddess of war and strategy. That didn’t sound like something you’d be able to easily win. But at the same time, the challenge was enticing. And you would get to see her in action. But first, the rest of the food.

You turn back to the altar, picking up a few olives to pop into your mouth. You don’t want to rush eating because you know that if you do that, it’ll make you feel sick. But… you’re pretty excited to be sparring your goddess. You tear off another hunk of bread to dunk into the soup, and just as you shove it into your mouth you hear Miruko behind you. “Here. Water.” She hands you a cup, and you gratefully accept it with a murmured ‘thank you’. You’re very thirsty, and the water in the cup tastes pure and clean. You greedily drink all of it down, and when you come back up Miruko is giving you a half smirk. “I’ll get you more.” She plucks the cup from your hands, her fingertips brushing yours as she takes it and turns away. You blush slightly at the subtle touches, not entirely sure why.

You choose to not dwell on that uncertainty though. If you’re going to spar Miruko and hope to hold your own against her you need to be focused on that. So you spend the remainder of your meal with your eyes closed, taking deep, controlled breaths. Eating slowly. Balancing, preparing yourself for a battle. Normally you would also be praying to Miruko, but that didn’t seem like an appropriate thing to do if you were about to fight her.

Once you’re calm enough and feel as centered as possible, you open your eyes. Miruko had replaced the cup at some point and you grab it. This time you sip, looking around you at the temple. The bed you’d been on was shoved to the far side of the room against the wall, and Miruko was standing in the empty space. Waiting for you.

It was time to try your luck against your deity.

You place the cup back on the altar and step over to her, sliding down in the defensive position you had taken when Hawks arrived. Her neutral face curls back up into that feral grin that you’re now accustomed to and she slips down as well, hands arching into claws. Arms and legs spread wide. It’s intimidating, but you refuse to show it.

“I’ve watched you for a long time, I’m looking forward to this.” Her grin widens and she’s moving, pushing off on her foot to launch herself at you. She’s too fast for you to be able to avoid her and you shift so she doesn’t hit you head on. You grab her side as she slams into you and pull, trying to make her be off balance. Miruko just gives a manic cackle and manages to land and put all her weight on one foot and tangle the other leg between yours. She crooks her leg quickly to trap you, your eyes widening at the pressure of the single leg lock she put you in.

Holy fuck, she’s powerful.

Obviously she’s powerful, but there’s something completely different about seeing the latent muscles in her form and fighting her. Gods, she must be breathtaking on the battlefield. You’re almost sad that you were unconscious when she took down your enemy. But now wasn’t the time to swoon, you were in the middle of a fight. You had to get out of the lock.

You twist yourself, able to wrench your leg out from hers. Though you have an inkling that she let you do that. The wildness in her eyes is back, pupils dilated to the point where there’s barely a red ring. Miruko lets out another laugh as you launch yourself at her. It’s like a dance, this fight. She’s allowing you to feel her out as an opponent since she knows exactly how you fight. You have a solid lock around her waist but she grabs yours in return and flips you up, the back of your thighs landing on her shoulders. She grins wider up at you from between your legs and your heart skips a beat, but then she throws you off of her. You land hard and roll but pop right back up, a little shaken.

You’re circling each other again, and now it’s her turn to charge you. You’re more ready this time though, and you shift and grab her arm. You pivot, your hip checking into her and you’re able to throw her over your shoulder. Her face fades to surprise for a second and then she’s behind you. You’re too slow to turn, and her foot strikes out in a wide arc. Miruko easily sweeps your feet out from under you and you land on your back, the breath knocked out of your lungs. Then her face fills your vision, she grabs your wrists and slams them above your head. You can feel her strong legs pinning your lower half. You’re both breathing heavily from the exertion of the fight. She increases the pressure on your wrists and your breath hitches. She pauses, her red eyes studying your face, and then she leans in and crashes her lips to yours.

Your mind shuts down for a second before you’re kissing her back. That’s what the feelings were when she brushed your skin. You were attracted to her, and obviously she was to you as well. She saved you, plucked you right out of your descent to the underworld. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to, you were entirely at Miruko’s mercy. And gods… this was exactly where you wanted to be.

The goddess finally lets up on your wrists in favor of cupping your face, which allows your hands to come down and rest on her hips. She’s solid muscle, you could tell that when she was fighting you but now that your hands were sliding over her form it was like caressing smooth, warm marble. Unyielding. Unstoppable. A small groan escapes your lips to be lost in her mouth, and she increases the pressure of her kiss.

She pulls back with no warning, a smirk on her face. “I’ve won,” she says with a smug note in her voice. “Are you ready for my reward?” If it’s anything like that kiss she just claimed, then you definitely were. She rolls her body to gracefully rise from the floor once you agree. You start to rise, getting ready to stand as well. Just as you gain your feet you find them swept out from under you again. You hit the floor hard, but then you freeze when you feel a foot on your neck.

“I didn’t say you could get up,” Miruko practically purrs. “Now, I’ll ask again. Are you ready?” “Yes,” you breathe, looking up at her with wide eyes and parted lips. You wanted anything she would let you do. With her foot still on your neck she peels her thigh slit tunic dress off of her body and drops it to the side. She’s nothing short of magnificent, and you forget to breathe for a few moments while you’re staring at her.

She smirks at you and removes her foot from your neck. Then she pivots, her muscular back toward you before gracefully stepping over you to straddle your chest. You watch as she lowers herself, and as she moves closer she reveals the beautiful pink of her sex, already glistening. Miruko settles herself hovering just over your face and braces her hands on her thighs. She looks back at you, smug smile still tugging at her lips. “Well?” You don’t need to be told twice. You wrap your hands over her solid thighs and pull her down to your face, immediately licking with a flat, wide tongue. She inhales sharply at the contact. You let your tongue drag down to circle her clit, which earns a soft gasp from Miruko. She tastes sweet, and the way she gasps when your tongue drags up and down her slit is intoxicating. But the noise she makes when you wrap your lips around her clit drives a spike of heat right to your core. “You’re so talented with that tongue. What a good girl,” Miruko get out between her pants, “I think you deserve a reward.” Your fingers dig into her thighs as you realize what she means when she slides your tunic up your thighs. You watch the muscles in her back flex as she leans forward, strong arms pushing your thighs apart. Your body is coils tightly in anticipation as she starts kissing along your thighs and up to the apex, but then kisses back down. She’s teasing you. It’s making it all the more exciting, but you need the relief. You wrap your lips around her clit again to suck in an attempt to get her to give you more. And you get what you want. She groans, her hips rolling, and circles her tongue around your clit as well. Miruko dips down, her tongue tracing your entrance, and she groans. “Mm, you taste so sweet. Even better than that peach you gave me as an offering. Maybe that’ll be what I call you,” her voice has a hint of amusement to it, but it makes you visibly squirm. She notices. “You like that? My peach?” Miruko leans back in, her tongue slowly dragging up and down your clit. You make a noise that you hope is taken as an affirmative because you can’t bring yourself to pull your mouth from her sex. Her hips are rolling down into your mouth and yours up into hers, stifled moans the only sound echoing in the room. But your voice kicks up an octave as you feel her fingers rub at your entrance and slip inside you. She chuckles at your reaction as she crooks her fingers up, easily finding the spongy spot that makes your eyes roll back in your head. It makes you work her over more vigorously and her smugness over the reaction she pulled from you melts away. Her choked moans get louder and louder, encouraging you to go at her harder. Pull her thighs harder. It’s getting more difficult to breathe, but it’s so worth it when she finally tenses as she hits her orgasm. You keep licking as she comes down from her high, but whine when her fingers slip out of you and she rises. You hadn’t had your own orgasm but you weren’t about to complain to her about it. Just as you’re about to rise to your feet Miruko surprises you by reaching down and pulling you up as if you weigh nothing. She’s yanking you into her body and crashing her mouth to yours in a heated kiss. Miruko only breaks the kiss when she quickly pulls your tunic from your body and throws it off to the side. “You’re delicious all over, it seems,” she murmurs into your kiss-swollen lips. You have no opportunity to answer, her hands seizing your waist. She lifts you off the ground and easily walks you to the smooth stone wall, lifting you high enough that your thighs can rest on her shoulders. Her arms lock your thighs in place to keep you there. Your eyes are wide at the show of strength, and you are very aware that her face is now at a perfect height for her to devour you. And she does. Her red eyes lock with yours for a moment before she is diving back in. Your head falls back at her skilled mouth, hips almost immediately rolling into her. You’re surprised as you feel one of the hands holding you up vanish from your thigh and easily slides into your wet heat again. Miruko’s fingers immediately curl up and press into the spot that makes you cry out. You can’t help it as your hands grasp for something to hold on to. Fists wrapped around her twin ponytails, allowing you to anchor youself. “Look at me,” she rasps out, and it takes all of your remaining senses to comprehend and comply. “Cum for me, Peach.” Then she flicks her tongue on your clit before sucking it into your mouth as she presses up with her fingers again. And the tight thread in you snaps, and you completely fall apart around her. Miruko keeps licking and crooking her fingers as you ride through your climax, red eyes still trained on your face as you try desperately to catch your breath. Without you really noticing your thighs are slipped from her shoulders and you’re gently lowered to the floor. She catches her lips with yours again but this time the kiss is soft, tender, and she pulls you into an embrace that has your head tucked under her chin.

Miruko doesn’t move for a moment, and you wonder if she feels as bone-tired as you do. But then she’s once again sweeping you up in her arms as if you weigh nothing. You marvel over her strength for what feels like the hundredth time as she brings you over to the bed you’d healed in. Only this time when she places you in the bed, she crawls right in after you. You lie there, both naked and turned toward each other with the blanket pulled up just enough to cover both of your forms. She’s gently running fingertips up and down your side, and now you can fully understand why she broke rules to save you.

“Ah, now I understand why you’re a disciple of this temple!”

Both of you jump, and Miruko’s eyes narrow to slits as she looks at a grinning Hawks floating in front of her statue. “Way to go Miruko.” He winks at her, then looks at you with a wide grin. “Songbird, how is she? I bet she’s bossy-” He cuts off with a yelp as a nude Miruko flings herself from the bed to attack him. Hawks immediately vanishes, disappearing again in a cloud of feathers. Miruko stops short, then snaps her fingers and her tunic dress flows down her form like water.

“I’ll be right back,” she says with steel in her voice, “I have a chicken to fry.” She vanishes too, and you lean back into the bed with an incredulous laugh. Who would have thought this would be the outcome of becoming a disciple of the goddess of war.

#Usagiyama Rumi / Miruko #usagiyama rumi #miruko #miruko imagine #bnha imagines #citrus dome collab #citrus dome #bnha smut #miruko x reader

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jojoimaginestories · 3 years

Note

Can I PLEASE get a scenario with Abbacchio who’s super into a badass female Bucci gang member (but she doesn’t know it) and then an enemy stand “glues” them together temporarily?? What would abba’s reaction be? TYSM!

Abbacchio into a Super Badass Fem!Reader

Warning: Mild Language A/n: Wow, first post in a while, hope it’s good, hope everyone enjoys! (And I hope you don’t mind it as a headcannon) *Gif is not mine*

Imagine this: Abbacchio actually finding someone (besides Mama Bruno) who isn’t annoying

Crazy, right?

Well, that’s when you step in

See, you just have this atmosphere (and you honestly don’t even know it), but all the members think it’s awesome

Before Trish came into the picture, you were the only girl in the Bucci Gang, so you had to at least be a little intimidating to pass off as a gang member

sO, let’s fast forward to now

On one of your patrols, you were paired with Abbacchio

You thought he was ignoring you because that’s just him, but unbeknownst to you, Abbacchio over here was actually just nervous af around you

(Bucciarati may or may not have caught on to Abba’s feels and was like “Maybe I’ll pair these two up to spark some romance” (Let’s be honest, he’s the mama bird and wants what’s best for everyone, even you and Abbacchio, so he’s gonna try))

In the midst of this patrol, you were caught off guard by an enemy stand user who’s stand (literally) is like glue

You and Abbacchio start fighting this stand, you trying to not get glue in your hair when you failed to realize that the glue actually stuck you both together

So GUESS WHO COMES INTO BASE GLUED TOGETHER, EH???

Instantly, you’re getting laughs from Narancia and Mista

Giorno doesn’t want to feel Abbacchio’s wrath, so he says nothing, and Fugo doesn’t care, neither does Trish

Bruno is smirking at Abbacchio from the side, not that you could see, but Abbacchio could and if looks could kill, Bruno would be dead

“I guess you two will just be stuck together until the glue comes undone,” Bruno shrugs towards the both of you.

“I have shit to do,” You called.

“Well, you can do it with Abbacchio then.”

This screams that you two are fucked

Bruno nudged Abbacchio and motions over to you, who has a frustrated look painted on

Abbacchio’s trying to hide his blush as he looks at you. “What is it that you need to do,” He muttered in a dull voice.

You looked at him. “Uh, cook. It’s my turn, and that means I get to make the cookies that Narancia likes, so you’ll have to bear with me until I’m done.”

Abbacchio really doesn’t want to be seen baking cookies for Narancia of all people, but he can’t help but be stuck to you because of the mission

He shoots a gaze to Bruno, who has a shit-eating grin as he motions towards you, prompting for him to respond

Abbacchio gave a sigh. “I’ll help, but keep me away from the cookies. I’m not making that shit,” He pointed a finger to you.

Your eyes lit up as you hugged him. “Thank you Abba!!”

He froze at the sudden contact and resisted an urge to kiss you or pinch your cheeks from your adorableness (when you showed it around him and others)

Cooking was not bad, since he decided to do the half that didn’t require your necessary touches

He was actually glad to cook with you, you weren’t loud or noisy or prodding him (basically you weren’t annoying to him)

All of a sudden, you were needing to grab something across the counter and stretched to get it, only to fall onto the ground as Abbacchio nearly fell over on the opposite side away from you

You both looked to see that the glue was undone, probably because of the heat in the kitchen, and it only left the side that you both were stuck on sticky

You cheered with a grin. “The glue came undone!”

Abbacchio sighed. “I guess it was hot in the kitchen to melt the glue.”

You patted his arm and grinned. “You’re free to go! There’s no reason for you to be stuck here. I’ll just finish everything here.”

He scoffed. “I’m already here, and I might as well finish what I started.”

‘Did she really hate my presence that much? Did she hate being stuck to me,’ He thought.

You tilted your head and held a finger up to your chin. “I thought you hated being bothered.” You looked at the time. “This is around the time you’d be drinking your wine.” You looked at him. “Don’t let me cut into your wine time Abba! Go ahead! You don’t want to be ruined with my presence!”

He huffed, his cheeks flushing pink. “You don’t ruin me with your presence.”

Your cheeks got a bit hot. “H-Huh?”

He looked at you. “You’re better than the others. I don’t find you that annoying.”

You scratched your cheek and looked away from him. “R-Really?”

He sighed. He leaned down and pressed his lips to your temple. “It’s obvious, tesoro.”

Your face had to have been flushed. “O-Oh... Abba... W-Would you, um, like to... um... Do this again, then?”

He smirked. “What happened? I thought your super badass personality didn’t get flustered.”

You gave him an embarrassed glare. “I-I’m not a badass! I will revoke my offer if you tease me!”

“Then I’ll say yeah, but...” He leaned closer to you. “I want it to just be between us, hmm?”

You were enchanted by his gaze until you smelled something burning. Your eyes widened. “THE FOOD!”

Abbacchio’s eyes widened as he looked at the food on the stove. “Damnit, this is why you distract me.”

You shot him a look. “I distract YOU?!”

Bruno wasn’t mad you were burning the food. He was more proud that Abbacchio admitted his true feelings for you.

#leone abbacchio x reader #leone abbacchio #abbacchio x reader #abbacchio imagine #jojo’s bizarre adventure #jojo's bizarre adventure x reader #jojo x reader #jjba x reader #jojo’s bizarre adventure golden wind

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enamoured-x · 4 years

Note

Can I get 13, 14 and 32 of the smutty prompts with Rio pretty please 😏🥰

Oof! This one was short but so damn good! Enjoy! (gif not mine)

Warnings: NSFW

It was currently a Sunday and you were in the kitchen baking cookies. You were keen on baking them from scratch today, trying out different recipes just for the hell of it.

And despite your best efforts to keep an eye on the cookies, Rio kept bugging you.

“Mama, are you done yet?” You rolled your eyes at his desperation. He had come in here earlier trying to lure you out of the kitchen with kisses to your neck and a few rolls of his hips into your backside. But you merely shoved him away, telling him he was either going to help or leave the kitchen. He stayed but kept his hands to himself, saying something about not wanting to ruin the cookies.

“If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.” You huffed. You checked your timer on your phone. You only had one last batch of cookies to take out of the oven and then you were done.

“You can’t blame a man for wanting a piece of this.” He squeezed your ass. You almost moaned but you shoved him away instead.

“Rio! You’re insufferable. How can you even want me right now?” You gestured to your worn out clothes and the amount of ingredients that now stained them.

“I really don’t care. You still look hot and I’m trying not to fuck you senseless right now.” He bit his lip as he looked you up and down, trying to pull you into him again. You squirmed under his touch now, a slight pressure between your hips.

“Look, two minutes. That’s it. And then I’m all yours.” You showed him the timer on your phone. He shrugged.

“Alright, doesn’t mean I can’t do this while we wait.” He turned you around so your back was pressed up against his front. His hand easily slipping inside your leggings and panties.

“Rio!” You grabbed his hand, not to stop him but to steady yourself as his fingers met your core.

“You’re so fucking wet. I don’t think I was the only one waiting.” His fingers slid through your folds, teasing you. You bucked into his hand, your head now leaning against his shoulder. He sucked kisses into your exposed neck. His finger met your entrance and before he could slide it in, your timer was going off. You groaned as he pulled his hand out of your pants. You quickly grabbed your oven mitts and took the cookies out. Then you turned back to him. He was smirking, pleased at the fact that now you were all worked up.

“Need something, mama?” He asked.

“You’re a jerk.” Is all you said before you pulled him down to kiss you. He laughed into your mouth, you couldn’t help but do the same. Before you knew what was happening he was picking you up. You let him and connected your mouth to his neck. Licking across his tattoo made him groan. You stopped your assault on his neck when Rio placed you down. He had only made it to the kitchen, you were now sitting up the table.

“What are you doing?” You asked him. Confused at why he wasn’t taking you to your bedroom and having his way with you.

“I’m hungry.” And with that, he sat down on the chair and started to tug at your pants.

“Fuck, Rio.” He quickly rid you of your leggings and panties and he wasted no time scooting the chair forward and resting your legs on his shoulders.

“Didn’t want no cookies,” he started to playfully nip at your thighs, “just wanted this.” The kiss to your clit had you gasping.

“My favorite fucking dessert.” He said, kissing it again. You were growing frustrated, wiggling around as he teased you.

“I want to taste you, mama. Want you coming on my tongue. And then, I’m going back in for seconds.” His tongue finally slid through your folds and you cried out. Scratching at the wooden table for stability but finding none. You grabbed at the back of his neck with one hand but he pulled it away, he intertwined that hand with his and used his other one to pull you closer. He feasted on you like it was his last meal. Sucking and licking and nibbling. You were glowing something white hot. Your skin electrified, your blood boiling with need. His grunts every now and then was only bringing you closer. Your legs started to shake as you felt yourself about to fall. You felt the wave about to consume you and take you under, you’d gladly drown.

“Rio… I’m–” You couldn’t even finish your sentence as you were pulled under. Wave after wave slamming into you, pulling you under the surface. You were sure the scream you let out was loud enough to wake the dead.

“That’s it, baby. You taste so fucking sweet.” He pulled away long enough to get out those words and then went back in, lapping you up. Your body jolting every few times he’d tongue at your clit too harshly.

“Fuck, that was amazing.” You said when you finally caught your breath. You looked down to see Rio smirking between your thighs. His stubble sticky with you and his lips shiny. The ultimate picture of sin.

“That was only the beginning.” He said, rubbing your clit and licking at you gently. You whimpered.

“What–”

“I told you I was going back in for seconds, and thirds.” Before you could get in a word he took your clit in his mouth and sucked.

You came three more times on Rio’s tongue before you couldn’t take it anymore. Four orgasms on his tongue and you were convinced he would’ve gone in for a fifth if you weren’t half asleep already.

He picked you up off the table and carried you into the bedroom. You didn’t think you’d be able to stand if you tried, let alone walk. Your legs were jelly and your brain turned into mush. He cleaned you up and covered you with the blanket.

“Wait, but what about you?” You could barely get out the words, half from sleep pulling you under and the other half from the screaming.

“I’m good, mama. Get some rest. I’ll clean the kitchen.” He said with a small smile, placing a soft kiss to your slicked forehead and then leaving the room. Your last thought before you finally let sleep consume you, was that you were quite possibly the luckiest girl in the world.

#rio x you #good girls rio #rio x reader #rio good girls

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