#i foolishly decided to clear everything away

[thegnomelord]

speaking of a cod apocalypse (i think actually idk i just skimmed over my tl) thoughts on the boys becoming some sort of fucked up mutated creatures?

like they're soldiers, right? and assuming the government sends them out to deal with whatever apocalyptic shit there is, surely one of them makes a stupid mistake that'll cost them their lives. fast forward to them succumbing to whatever radioactive shit decided to live in their bodies, and they're dead but alive? and like... just grotesque things. they're still them, just more brutal and monstrous. maybe their skin is melting off, maybe they're growing another limb or two, maybe they have teeth growing on their head.

anyways, thoughts on this kind of genre???? :))))

(i think itd be cool if like.... some of them merged together, just a mass of limbs and skin :33)

Okay, consider: Horizon zero dawn world, full of killer machines and tribes n shit, combined with the virus from the Prototype (that and darksiders are my fav games of all time tbh) also body horror, specifically the blend of machine and flesh bh, is my favorite shit :Dd this is a rough idea

So like as killer machines were sweeping across the planet, devouring everything in sight and replicating, a disease was created that, it was hoped, would be able to infect and eat away at the metal. But it fails, the virus ends up infecting the soldiers that are fighting against the machines and just, combining the human and machine.

The world eventually goes so far to shit that everything on the planet dies. The war machines become deactivated and some of the machine/human mutants are sealed away in bunkers to be used as experiments.

And just like, the 141 becoming a blend of steel and flesh in the grotesque approximation of what they used to be, able to strip away parts of other machines and graft them to their own forms.

Gaz was the first, fighting on the front lines back when he had foolishly believed the killer robots could be defeated. He had gotten separated when he got infected, the fear secondary only to the pain as his flesh literally melted into the corruptors, bone and muscle becoming tangled in gears and wires until all he could feel were his numerous stilt like legs now scrambled to gain purchase on the blood soaked ground . Turned into some weird metal scorpion bellow the waist, weaponry weighing on his back and coolant full wires snaking across his body, Kyle had passed out from the pain, his body further changing in his slumber to grow skin and eyes over the raw metal.

He woke up deep underground in a bunker, turned into a science experiment.

Price was next. He was a soldier turned scientist, working on a subfunction of the teraforming AI that would work to clear the world of the virus that had unleashed. He was the soft voice of comfort Kyle would listen to when they pricked and prodded him, the person Kyle spilled his heart out time and time again.

It came as little surprise when Price became infected. He had started to feel lethargic and sick for the few days, all of it going unnoticed as no one knew how the virus affected humans. That was until he came in contact with a Plowhorn, that changed him into a bulwark of flesh and metal, a living tank with a heavy crest of horns sitting on his head and thick metal plates to protect him.

Price and Kyle kept each other from going insane, figuring out the worst part of the virus — they had become immortal like the machines, but still felt pain like people, pain muddling their brains when pistons and gears would grind against flesh again and again until it regrew in a different way.

They were finally freed when the people experimenting on them died and the AI released the locks of the doors. They emerged hell knows how many years later, taking the first steps into a reborn world that was still crying in it's cradle.

Soap was amongst the first humans to emerge from the mechanical cradle, thrust into a wild and untamed world full of strange machines, with no tools but his hands. While out trying to scavange some of the metal from downed glinthawks he was attacked by Scrappers, ending up infected with the virus that had been slumbering in the earth. Soap became like the sphinx, glinthawk wings attaching to his back with wires, talons merging with skin and pushing out bone, the body of the scraper combining with his own until he was unable to stand on two legs, forced to crawl on all fours and screech in pain through distorted vocal chords until Price and Gaz found him. They took care of him until he was used to his body enough to soar through the air about as well as he could run across the earth.

Simon was the last, born to a tribe that valued strength and worshipped the machines above all. And Simon is the only one who's convergence to steel has any semblence of thought or preparation. He had spent years hunting Fireclaws, tearing off the intact pieces and pistons after every hunt until the shamans of his tribe deemed him ready to become one of the metal gods. The change was slow and painful, bones melting and hardening around new metal, body getting bigger and flesh stretching to fit the new frame, heavy claws weighing on his muscular arms until Simon had become Ghost.

It wasn't what he expected. What he had done in an attempt to fit in amongst his kin served to further push him away as his tribe worshipped him as one of the machine gods, erasing his name as Simon. It was a relief when he met the others, finding comfort in their disfigured and grotesque bodies that looked so similar like his own.

And then you meet them.

Maybe you're a foolish mercenary that stumbled too far into the wild, maybe you're one of the subfunctions of the original teraforming AI that gained sentience. Either way, you didn't fear them, you tried to talk to them, to get to know them even when every societal law of your tribe deemed them as monsters and demons.

And on one random evening, when they had all settled into a rough cuddle pile, scarred flesh over sharp metal creating enough of a cushion for you to sleep in the middle of them all — safe and warm... It occured to them: you are nice, you are kind, and they want to to stay by their side.

#gnome correspondence #trinckets of the hoard #cod mw2 #horizon zero dawn #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick x reader #captain john price x reader

[kiarastromboli]

Teach me 2 (Chris Sturniolo x y/n)

Part.1 Part.3

Masterlist.

Warning: Not my edit, Smut content, don’t like it = don’t read it :)

Summary: Y/N and Chris's relationship has evolved, but Y/N insists on keeping a low profile for fear that her parents will find out she has a boyfriend.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

"Wake up, honey, your dad is dropping you off today," my mom said, gently stroking my hair to wake me up.

I just hummed in response, too lazy to open my mouth and speak.

After a few seconds of tossing in bed to stretch and rub my eyes, I reached for my phone.

I smiled foolishly at my phone before getting out of bed to get ready.

My relationship with Chris had evolved since the night he climbed through my window two weeks ago. We decided to take our time; nothing was officially defined, and not many people knew about us.

Mainly because I was afraid my parents would find out I had a boyfriend. Chris didn't care; he wasn't the type to overthink, and that's precisely why I tried to keep this relationship discreet.

My parents had been quite clear in the past about boys—no boyfriends before the end of high school. According to them, it's a distraction, and they want me to focus fully on my studies, which I can understand.

On top of that, Chris is pretty much everything my parents would dislike, so it would be even worse if they found out I was dating him.

Anyway, I left my room to head to the bathroom. I took a quick shower, got dressed, brushed my teeth, styled my hair, and applied a bit of makeup.

I wanted to look a bit nicer today for Chris; I knew this lacrosse match was important for him, and I wanted to please him.

"You look very beautiful. Do you have a special event today?" my father asked as he saw me coming into the kitchen.

"Um, no, I just felt like getting ready a bit," I nervously replied before sitting at the table for breakfast.

"By the way, I'll probably be home a bit later tonight. There's an important lacrosse match, and I plan to watch it with Julia," I added nervously.

"Hm," my father looked at me strangely before returning to his phone.

I had my breakfast peacefully, and then my father and I headed to school.

My morning went by normally—nothing extraordinary. I attended classes, worked, and chatted a bit with my best friend Julia. Then lunchtime arrived.

"See you at the match!" I told Julia as I left the class to go to my locker.

I opened my locker to put away my things, and when I closed it, I was taken by surprise by Chris standing right behind me.

"Oh my god, Chris!" I said, placing my hand on my heart, thinking I was having a heart attack.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," he said, chuckling, and I gave him a playful punch in the shoulder before laughing myself.

"You look good," he said with a smirk, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"I made an effort for you today," I told him, smiling and tilting my head to the side.

"Can't wait to take off that little skirt later," he whispered in my ear, making me blush.

"Chris!" I said, clearing my throat and looking around to make sure no one had heard.

He chuckled before leaning toward me for a kiss, and instinctively, I pulled back.

He gave me a confused look. "Not here. I don't want anyone to see us," I said timidly.

"Y/n, your parents aren't going to magically appear out of nowhere and catch us kissing. We're at school," he replied, rolling his eyes and sighing.

"I know, but I don't want to take the risk of someone telling them!" I replied.

"I couldn't care less if your parents don't like me, Y/n. It annoys me that I can't kiss you whenever I want!" he said, getting frustrated.

"Chris, I know. I'm sorry. Please, stop," I said, immediately feeling guilty. "Maybe you don't care, but it's important to me. I'm not ready for them to know. I need a little more time."

He sighed, throwing his head back. "Yeah, see you at the match after school," he said before turning around and leaving.

It really bothered me that things were so complicated. It was just the beginning of our relationship, and I was terrified of ruining everything because of my parents.

The rest of the day, I wasn't really focused on anything. I couldn't stop thinking about Chris. I didn't want to hurt him, and I could sense that this situation was bothering him. I wanted to find a way to make it up to him.

After school, Julia and I headed straight to the stadium to watch Chris's match. We had seats right at the front in the stands.

"Hold this for me. I'm going to see Chris quickly before the match starts," I told my best friend, handing her my bag.

Of course, she knew about Chris and me; she was the first person to find out.

She nodded, smiling at me, and I ran toward the locker rooms. I was lucky; Chris had just come out.

I grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to a more discreet spot where no one could see us, then kissed him.

"I'm sorry for earlier," I replied, separating our lips. "I don't want our argument to distract you from your match. I'll find a solution."

"I'm not angry with you, Y/n," he said, placing his hand on my cheek. "It's just that I wish I could show everyone that you're mine."

"Shut up," I said, grabbing the collar of his shirt to kiss him. "How about you show me how much I'm yours after this match," I added, biting my lip.

"You won't have to ask me twice," he said, grabbing me by the waist, pulling me against him, and kissing me again. "Join me in the locker room after the match," he said, disconnecting our lips.

"Chris, I meant at your place or mine, not here dumbass," I said, chuckling.

"I won't wait until then. If it were up to me, I'd fuck you against this wall," he said, smiling.

"No, Chris, you're insane. We're not doing that in the locker room," I said, shaking my head.

"Okay, let's make a deal. If I score three times during this match, we do it in the locker room. Otherwise, it's up to you to decide," he said, extending his hand.

"Chris," I said, looking at him seriously, and he insisted, "Oh my god, okay fine, deal," I finally gave in, and he kissed me quickly before turning back to the others.

Even if Chris was doing pretty well in lacrosse, there was little chance he would score three times on his own. Given the level of his team, I knew this deal was already in my favor.

"Are you done making out with your secret boyfriend?" Julia said when I came back to sit next to her.

"Oh, shut up!" I said, laughing.

It was Chris's first match that I attended. I had seen him practice once or twice quickly, but I didn't expect to find it so attractive to watch him play.

I don't know if it was the brutality with which he entered the opposing team members sometimes or the moments of pause when he removed his helmet to run his hand through his hair.

Not to mention the countless times he threw me looks that, honestly, soaked my panties.

I already found Chris incredibly sexy in everyday life. Sometimes I even felt like a teenager in front of a boyband with him. This guy represented everything I found most attractive.

When he scored for the first time, I was the first to cheer and encourage him, proud to see my boyfriend contribute to his team's victory.

The second time, however, I quickly felt reality catching up with me. Had I just been fooled? I felt anxiety creeping in. If he scored one more time, it meant I was going to sleep with him in the locker room. Oh my god, what had I done?

The rest of the match, every time he approached to score, my heart skipped a beat. But when the last few minutes arrived, I started to feel reassured.

That was without counting on the fact that Chris scored one last time in the last 5 minutes of the match.

Everyone in the stands stood up to celebrate our team's victory, and I sat there for a moment when I realized what that meant. Damn.

After a few minutes of celebration, the team left the field to head to the locker room, and I received a message from Chris.

I blushed at his message.

"Everything okay?" Julia asked, putting her hand on my shoulder, making me jump and immediately turning off my phone so she wouldn't see my messages.

"Um, yeah!" I said, clearing my throat and smiling to pretend nothing was wrong.

"Okay..." she said, looking at me strangely. "Anyways, my brother is dropping me home in 5 minutes. Do you want us to drop you off on the way to your place?" she offered.

"No, thanks, Ju. I'll wait for Chris to come out of the locker room. I have something to tell him quickly," I said timidly, running my hand over my neck.

"Oh, okay. Well, see you tomorrow, Y/n," she said, smiling before leaving.

It had been about twenty minutes since I was waiting in the stands, feeling stressed and anxious.

Of course, it wasn't about sleeping with Chris; on the contrary, I wanted it. It's just that I found it quite risky, and what if someone caught us?

Anyway, I made a deal with him, and I can't back down now.

My moment of solitude was interrupted by a message from Chris, letting me know that the locker room was empty, and he was now waiting for me to join him.

I took a deep breath and stood up before starting to walk towards the locker rooms.

I passed a few people on the way and tried to act casual as I walked past them. Once in front of the locker room door, I scanned the surroundings to make sure no one saw me enter.

I opened the door and quickly entered. My heart immediately raced when the door closed behind me.

I surveyed the room to find my boyfriend, but no one was there. "Ch-Chris?" I said timidly, gradually moving forward in the room.

No response. Turning my head, I saw Chris's bag on the bench with his lacrosse jersey on it, indicating that he was indeed here. "Not funny, idiot, answer me!" I said, rolling my eyes and starting to walk towards the showers.

Suddenly, I felt hands grab my waist and press me against a wall before feeling his lips crashing onto mine, making me sigh in surprise. "Chris! Oh my god!"

"That's the second time I've scared you today," he said, smiling proudly.

"Yes, and you really need to stop doing it if you don't want me to have a heart attack!" I said, giving him a playful shove to his chest.

I took a moment to admire him; he was shirtless, his hair still damp from the shower he probably just had. "I missed you," he said, reconnecting our lips.

"I missed you too," I replied, running my hand through his hair. "I didn't think you'd manage to score three times," I said in a slightly more timid tone.

"With the right motivation, there are plenty of things I can do," he said, smiling against my lips before removing one of the straps of my top.

"Chris—" I started to say before being cut off by his lips on my neck. "I know we made a deal, but I don't think it's a good idea," I said, unable to hold back small moans escaping my mouth.

"Why?" he asked, sliding his hands over my hips. "You don't seem like you want me to stop, judging by the sounds you're making," I could feel his smile against my neck.

"I don't—" I said, interrupted by a moan when he began nibbling on my neck. "If someone catches us, Chris, I—" I said before being cut off by his hands grabbing the back of my thighs to lift me.

"Don't worry. If you stay quiet, there's no reason anyone will catch us," he said with a smirk before kissing me again, this time our kiss was deeper and more fiery.

I knew it wasn't responsible of me, but his lips on my body only led me astray from the right path. I placed one hand on his shoulder while the other tangled in his hair. "We'll have to do this quickly, though. I don't know how much time we have before the janitor comes to clean the locker rooms," he said with a hungry voice, and I simply nodded.

He led us to the bench to sit next to his bag. His hands gripped my hips, making me moan once again, and I started moving my hips against his, making him groan in return. "I fucking missed this pussy. I can't wait any longer," he said, licking his lips, and indeed, I could feel his rock-hard cock through his joggers rubbing against my panties.

He came to grasp my throat in his hand, kissing me more fiercely than before, making me moan in surprise. This time was different, less gentle than the first, but equally pleasing. I couldn't help but squirm and moan, craving to feel him inside me again. "Shhh," he said, separating our lips.

"I'm sorry, it's just that—" I began before feeling his grip on my ass strengthen.

"It's just that what?" he said with a smirk. "Don't be all shy with me ma; tell me, or I'll stop now," he added, removing his hands from my ass.

"No, don't!" I said in a heated sigh before guiding his hands back to where they were, and he smiled. "It's just that I really need you now," I said timidly, and he immediately kissed me again.

His hands left my ass to remove his joggers and boxers, lifting his hips slightly, pressing his erection even closer to me, causing another moan to escape my lips.

"Y/n, you really need to make less noise than that," he chuckled, readjusting himself.

"Sorry," I said, blushing and looking down at his sizeable member. Not to brag, but in my eyes, it was rather large, and I was afraid that without any foreplay, his entrance might be painful.

"I won't enter before stretching you a bit, baby, don't worry," he chuckled before bringing his hand between our bodies.

He slid my panties to the side before inserting a finger inside me while looking at me with his beautiful blue eyes.

I tried to stifle a moan when he immediately added a second finger, making me furrow my brows and cling to his shoulder. "You're so beautiful, y/n," he said, moving his fingers inside me.

And I couldn't help but move my hips back and forth, hoping to feel him even deeper inside me. "You're such a good girl; look at you riding my fingers like a needy slut," his words prompted another moan to escape my mouth.

His free hand came to surround his member as he started to stroke himself while watching me. "I want to do it," I said, wrapping my hand around him, and he smiled before starting to bend his fingers inside me.

I gradually quickened my hand movements around him, and he threw his head back. "N-no, Chris, look at me," I said, moaning and placing my free hand on his cheek.

"Fuck, I need to be inside of you right now," he said, removing his fingers from me to grab a condom from his bag.

In a few seconds, he opened the condom with his teeth, and I stopped stroking him so he could put it on.

He wasted no time in seizing me by the hips and aligning himself with my entrance. He took care to shift my panties to the side before applying pressure to my hips to enter in one swift motion. "Chris!" I almost screamed, burying my head in his neck.

"Sorry, I couldn't wait any longer, ma," he said, groaning and starting to guide my hips up and down.

"Oh my fuck," I said, moaning and throwing my head back.

He took advantage of the moment to bury his head in my neck and kiss me there. "Chris, I—" I said, moaning, and he quickened the movement, I gently pulled his hair. "This is so good; please don't stop."

"Y/n, someone might hear you; you need to stop moaning like that, shit-" he said, lifting his head towards me and grabbing my chin.

"I don't fucking care, Chris; it feels good. I need you to go faster, please," I said, driven solely by my desires at that moment, and he did what I asked, thrusting from below this time.

He grabbed my hips tightly and started giving me fast and deep thrusts. "Oh my god, yes, right there," I said, dropping my head forward.

"Fuck, y/n, shhh," he said, trying his best to hold back his own moans.

I felt like I had become completely dumb; the only thing I could think of at that moment was Chris inside me. The moans coming from me were out of control, so Chris pressed his hand against my mouth to prevent any sound from escaping.

"God, I wish I didn't have to cover your pretty little mouth right now," he whispered without stopping his thrusts.

My lower abdomen tightened as he began to massage my clit. My eyes rolled back, and my hand instinctively gripped Chris's throat, which seemed to shock him momentarily but didn't displease him, judging by the smile that appeared on his face.

I closed my eyes, feeling my orgasm approaching. With my other hand, I removed Chris's hand from my mouth to warn him, "Baby, I'm really close," I said, moaning.

"Me too, ma, let it go," he said through gritted teeth. I locked eyes with him, my mouth open, refraining from letting my moans escape. Chris's brows were furrowed, and he bit his lips to prevent any noise from escaping.

"Chris, oh my god!" I almost screamed, tightening my grip around his neck, letting my orgasm take over.

"Hold on a little longer; I'm almost there babe," he said, breathless, giving me animalistic thrusts before he, too, reached climax and stopped his movements completely.

I let my head fall against his chest with him still inside me, and we both began to chuckle. "I'm going to need a second shower," he said, laughing.

"Well, we don't have time. You'll take one at your place; I have to go home before my parents get worried." I told him, straightening up and placing my hands around his cheeks.

"Hmm," he simply hummed, caressing my ass and kissing me tenderly.

I stood up, readjusted my skirt and panties, while he disposed of the condom and got dressed on his end. "I'm good?" I asked, wanting him to tell me if I was disheveled or if my clothes were misplaced.

"Mhm," he said, nodding, and we both headed towards the exit.

He grabbed me by the arm to kiss me. "I love you, Chris," I said, breaking our kiss with a big smile.

"I love you, baby," he replied before I turned to open the door and stepped out.

I quickly descended from my little cloud when I opened the door and found myself face to face with Chris's coach, who crossed his arms.

"Y/f/n y/l/n! I wouldn't have expected to run into you here," he said, giving me a judgmental look before Chris came out right after. "Chris Sturniolo, what a surprise!"

I looked at Chris anxiously, hoping he could come up with a miracle solution. "Coach, it's not what you think—" he started before being interrupted.

"I don't want to hear anything. Both of you will explain yourselves to the principal tomorrow. Go home now," he responded.

Oh my god, this time I'm really in trouble...

Masterlist.

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo edit #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #smut

[theelazaruspit]

Lazy Sunday | Husband!John Price x Author!Reader

Getting some much-needed stress relief from your doting husband

Warning/content: 18+, mdni, smut, fem!reader, gentle dom!price, established relationship, porn with plot, slow(ish) burn, angst, hurt/comfort, reader wears glasses, discussion of self-doubt and insecurity, cunnilingus, fingering, dumbification if you squint? (You’re just really relaxed), creampie, squirting, no use of y/n, they’re grossly in love idk what else to tell you honestly, but if I missed anything, let me know! Word count: 4.9k.

A/N: This has been in my drafts for ages, and I've been chipping away at it slowly, but after seeing @ghosts-cyphera 's husband!price drabble, I rose from the metaphorical dead, and here we are, so thank you, Alora, for being a fellow price enjoyer and just a gem, and I hope you all enjoy <3

Everything was just too much.

You’re stiff, jaw clenched, shoulders tense, and you can feel a migraine forming between your eyes. It’s a little ridiculous, really. By all accounts, you should be more relaxed. The hard work was finished, your novel was complete, the accompanying art had been chosen, and all the finer details were squared away; now, all that was left was publishing, though that was the publisher’s headache, not yours. It was the waiting that always got to you.

No matter how many times you’d gone through the process, no matter how many works you published, the anticipation never failed to eat away at you. There is a special kind of stress that comes with releasing your art into the world, in having people get a glimpse into your mind. While it’s gratifying to share your hard work with the masses, once it leaves you, it’s no longer only your own, and others are free to interpret it as they please. It’s deeply personal and scary like you’re bearing your soul to the public, but what’s done is done. All the late nights spent writing were over, and now you’re alone with your thoughts again. 

You’ve tried everything to keep yourself busy. Your office is far cleaner now than it was before your husband left, both of your laundry was done with all the garments being put in their rightful place, and there was a cake on the counter from your late-night baking excursion a few days ago. 

All of your usual distractions failed you. Nothing has been able to loosen the knot coiling itself in your chest. It’s silly; this is not your first book. The first was well received, a fact you should be grateful for, and you are. However, its success set a precedent. What if this one wasn’t as good? What if it didn’t live up to everyone’s expectations? The more questions you considered, the more withdrawn you became, allowing your doubts to swallow you whole. And that’s how you ended up back where you started, staring blankly at an empty document. You (foolishly) believed that writing could help, thinking a fresh idea would clear your conscience, but nothing comes. So you sit, hoping for anything to inspire you, but all you hear is the voice in the back of your head taunting you. 

For a fleeting moment, you consider seeking the comfort of your husband; however, you quickly decide against it. 

Not at all because you didn’t think he could soothe you. If anything, he knows better than anyone else how to keep you grounded, but you’re painfully aware of how rare it is for John to get time off, and it would be unfair to take that much-needed relaxation away from him with your problems. Still, you yearn for the solace he provides you. It’s absurd to miss someone who’s a mere twenty feet away, someone you could easily see. But, you stubbornly resist the temptation to steal his time, even if you know he’d want you to. He was insistent that you could never bother him, but you still had your doubts. 

Compared to everything he goes through, your insecurities are small and insignificant; you can handle this on your own, even though you feel your eyes beginning to dry the longer you stare at the bright white void in front of you. A long groan escapes you as you toss your glasses unceremoniously onto your desk (had they fallen? You couldn’t be bothered to check) before burying your head in your hands. 

“You’ve got this,” You mutter to yourself. It’s hardly convincing. Did you actually have this? You’re not entirely sure, but it doesn’t hurt trying.

You’re unsure how long you wallowed before your husband appeared in the doorway. Despite being uncharacteristically patient given the circumstances, you knew it was only a matter of time before he’d come to you. Rarely would you hide away in your office while he was home; usually, you’d rushed into his arms to steal his warmth every opportunity you got, but he tried to be understanding. Having him back in the house was just as much of an adjustment for you as it was for him, and he wanted to be considerate of that. Though his comings and goings had slowed considerably over the span of your relationship, he knew they still weighed on you, and he also knew you’d sooner die than admit that, so he gave you space.

But after another hour passes, his patience wears thin. This was a while even for you, and he wanted to make sure you were alright. So, ever the diligent lover, he prepares you a peace offering, a perfectly brewed cup of your favorite tea, and heads to your door. 

His suspicions that you weren’t as well off as you claimed are confirmed when he’s greeted with the back of your hunched-over form, papers strewn across your desk. It takes one glance at you for John to know the kind of evening you’re having despite your best efforts to hide it. The stress practically radiates off you, casting a thick layer of tension in the room. The last thing he wants is to startle you, so he watches, waiting for you to acknowledge his presence. But the longer he rests against the doorframe, the sooner he realizes you haven’t noticed him yet, another sign that something isn’t quite right. 

You didn’t have to say anything for him to know what you were thinking. He can practically hear the voices in your head lying to you, slowly breaking you down, and he feels his heart clench. It’s times like this when he wishes your mind was kinder to you, that it afforded you the same kindness you so freely gave others. He also wished you would let him help you. Your independence has always been something he admired and was one of the first things he noticed that drew him to you. You were radiant, ethereal, having an air of confidence and grace about you that followed you wherever you went, practically lighting your path. 

However, your independence made it difficult for you to depend on him. He told you no fewer than a million times, practically pleaded with you to let him shoulder your burdens, to tell you that no problem was too small to tell him about, and while you’d opened up over the years, he could see that your walls were up. Nevertheless, he would do everything he could to chip away at them, to take you out of your head for a while.

He walks over to you slowly, placing the mug down before lightly rubbing your shoulders. You know he’s there, immediately feeling comforted by his presence, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. You don’t want him to see you like this, not while you look like a sad puppy, but he persists, taking your silence as an invitation to speak.

“Made you some tea, love,” he says softly, receiving only a muffled hum of acknowledgment. Undeterred, he keeps massaging your shoulders, applying a bit more pressure, a soft smile gracing his features when you lean into his touch. His movements are slow intentional, wanting to ease you into the feeling. 

He doesn’t have to look at your face, which has since been laid flat on your desktop, to know your brows are furrowed, and he wants nothing more than to smooth away the creases with his fingers. 

Instead, he turns your chair to face him, forcing you to pick your head up. He ignores the whine you let out upon realizing that he’s not going to let you bask in your sadness in peace, as well as the glare you give him as you put your glasses on. There’s no malice behind your gaze, and he can see you fighting back a smile, causing his grin to widen.

“Good morning, lovely.” 

“It’s not morning, and I probably look like shit” You sigh.

You’re right; it wasn’t morning, but the latter was far from the truth. John loved you in all your forms, but this, you at home in your comfy clothes, was one of the most beautiful sights he’d ever seen, even if you were being a little grouchy. He doesn’t take it personally. No, he knows you’re frustration is with yourself, which only motivates him to relax you more. 

He doesn’t ask if you’re okay; you both know you aren’t, so he settles with a more helpful question: asking what you need. It’s more a formality than anything because he already knows the answer. It’s clear you don’t want to talk because if you did, you would have by now. He’s no stranger to nights spent holding you, listening to you vent about everything troubling you as you lay your head on his chest, and while he welcomes your rambles, you’re too tangled up in your thoughts to get the words out. 

No, you needed something else. You needed a break; you needed someone you trusted to take control for a while, and who was better suited for the task than him? You both knew he wouldn’t move until you asked him to because even when he’s in control, he’s still at your mercy. 

You don’t answer him immediately, not that he expected you to. For all his gentle coaxing, the question was surprisingly direct, and it caught you off guard. You know what you want. You want to climb into bed, wrap yourself in blankets, and sleep, and no matter how much you try to deny it, you also want to melt into your husband’s touch while you do. But with how restless you are, that seems impossible. To do that, first, you would need to relax, something you’re notoriously bad at. John would be eager to assist, to soothe the storm that rages within you, but you also know him well enough to know that he wouldn’t help you if you didn’t ask. So, reluctantly, you confess you’re having trouble relaxing, that there are too many thoughts running through your head to turn your brain off. Once you start, it’s as if you’ve opened Pandora’s box and you just break. All the emotions you’ve tried to suppress come pouring out mostly incoherently. In your frenzy, you barely notice that John moved to kneel in front of you until you feel his hand cup your jaw. 

He doesn’t get too close, not wanting to overwhelm you, because he knows how hard this is for you already. 

You’re a lot like him in that way, birds of a feather, he supposes, as you both have difficulty opening up and trusting others. He’s forever humbled by the fact that you, wonderfully amazing you, chose him, and it’s not something he takes for granted. He values all of the time you spend together, even if you aren’t in the best of spirits. God knows he’s had his fair share of melancholic moments that you worked him through, and it is at that moment he is determined to do the same for you, to help you feel better. 

“Shh, it’s alright, love, I have you. There’s nothing you need to worry about. I’ll take care of everything, alright? I’ll give you what you need,” He reassures you in that low timbre you’ve missed so much. Your nod is rewarded with a light kiss on the cheek before he stands up, pulling you up from your chair with him. 

You let out a yelp of surprise when he scoops you up and carries you towards your bedroom. His strength never fails to surprise you, but you don’t have time to dwell on it when he gently places you on the edge of your bed. For the second time tonight, he kneels before you, taking your hands in his while looking you in the eye.

“You know how much I love you, don’t you?” His question is met with a scoff.

“Of course I do. I don’t think there’s anyone in this world that loves me more.”

“Well, I’d certainly hope not. Otherwise, we’d have a problem on our hands.” He chuckles, running his thumb over your knuckles before continuing, “I want you to do something for me. You’re so smart, love, bloody brilliant. But right now, I don’t want you to think. I just want you to feel. Can you do that f’me, angel? Let me make you feel good.” 

You nod as you did before, only this time, you’re met with a shake of his head.

“Need your words, sweetheart”

The “please” that escapes you is more breathless than you expected. He had hardly touched you, and you could already feel a bit dazed by the intensity of his stare. Your soft confirmation is met with a smile before he works you out of your sweats and guides you to lay flat on the bed. He takes his time to press kisses up your thigh, slowly making his way to your center, nipping every now and then, eliciting little gasps from you. And while you appreciate his desire to worship you, you were getting impatient. The sight of him so close to where you need him but not touching you was almost too much to bear. 

Before you can protest, he takes pity on you, slips your panties down, and rewards your patience with a long lick up your slit paired with a chaste kiss to your clit. 

Your moment of reprieve doesn’t last long before he absolutely devours you, laving at your folds without another care in the world. The strokes of his tongue are slow but firm, his mouth practically molded to your form, following you no matter how much you move and shake. He wants to get you used to the feeling, give you time to surrender yourself to him, and you’re starting to. He sees the way you grasp at the sheets, mindlessly looking for something, anything to anchor you, and he’s quick to provide. 

You hadn’t realized how much you were squirming until he pulled back, one calloused hand stroking your inner thigh with the other lacing his fingers with yours while instructing you to relax, reminding you to be good for him, to take all that he’s giving you. You look angelic, eyes rolled back, your body flushed, a sheen of sweat forming, and every touch driving you closer to the edge. But he knows it’s not enough. Had you been calmer and less frazzled, you would have reached your peak already, but right now, you need a push to help you over the edge.

When he takes his hand off your thigh and lets his fingers join his tongue, your back bows. If not for his firm grip, you may have fallen off the bed, but there is no need to worry about that. John’s got you; he always does. 

It’s overwhelming having him so wholly focused on you, feeling his deep, muffled groans against your center, and it’s clear he wasn’t faring much better. 

He may be helping you destress, but you know your husband well enough to know he’s enjoying this as much as you are, if not more. John Price is not a selfish man, far from it. Many have speculated that his selflessness will be his downfall. But, at this moment, he can’t help but think about himself. Can’t help but think about how his cock is straining in his trousers, which are becoming almost distractingly tight, about how he wants nothing more than to pump you full of his cum. But he’s a patient man. He understands that he’ll get there eventually. No, for now, he’s more than happy to have you soaking his beard. What’s important at this moment is getting you to cum on his tongue, on his fingers, because he knows the wetter you are, the easier it’ll be to slip into you, leaving him to settle for grinding himself against the bed for relief, and he gives your hand a gentle squeeze. 

Despite your whines and pleas for him to speed up, for him to give you more, he knows better. He keeps the same pace, knowing the slow build, while seemingly tortuous, will make you cum that much harder, and that’s exactly what he wants. He wants you boneless, without a single thought that isn’t him and how good he’s making you feel. There was no need to rush, you had all night, and there’s no place he’d rather be than here, with his fingers stuffed in your gorgeous pussy while he laps at your folds.

The sounds you two are making are nothing short of obscene. Your keens and his moans filled the room. And god, you were so fucking wet you were practically leaking down his wrist, and when your moans start rising in pitch, he knows you’re close. All it takes are a few more strokes of fingers before you’re cumming, your body going rigid with a broken sob. John works you through it, lapping up your spend and rubbing barely there circles around your clit to prolong your pleasure while patiently waiting for you to catch your breath. 

When your trembling subsides, he carefully removes his fingers, using his now free hand to smooth over your thighs, murmuring praises about how well you did for him before standing, finally ridding himself of his clothes. You look so beautiful like this, spread out, panting, still glistening with your release. It just makes him want to ruin you, but always the gentleman, he checks in with you first.

“Still with me, love?” he teases, hands soothing at your sides, earning him a laugh, a genuine laugh. One that makes your eyes crinkle, and a chuckle of his own leaves him in response. It’s a good sign; it’s progress, but he knows you’re not entirely unwound yet. He knows you still have more left in you.

You pull him in for a kiss that he eagerly accepts. It’s tender, intimate. You can taste yourself on his lips, and John’s complete and utter reverence for you almost makes you shy. His love for you flows through him and pours into his touch when he deepens the kiss, and you can’t help but lean into it.

“I want more. I need to feel you,” you confess against his lips. 

“How do you want me?” he murmurs, moving to trail kisses down your neck. “Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you. All you have to do is ask,” and you know he means it. He’d bring you the moon and the stars if you wished. 

“From behind, I don’t want to think about anything but how good you feel,” you said, pulling away to lay on your stomach before being stopped by John’s hand on your shoulder, turning you towards him. Your momentary confusion quickly dissipates when you realize what he’s doing. 

He’s taking off your glasses. 

Admittedly, in your haze, you’d forgotten you still had them on, so used to the familiar weight, but it makes your heart swell as you watch him place them delicately on your bedside table. It’s such a small gesture, but it’s endearing, and it reminds you how lucky you are to have such an attentive, caring lover, and you can’t help but pull him in for another kiss. John adores the lovestruck look you give him as you pull away, eyes bleary, pupils dilated. And though he could look at it all day, he reluctantly moves away, readjusting you so you’re face down on the bed before slotting himself between your legs.

A contented sigh leaves you as you settle into your plush bedding, feeling thankful you’d insisted on replacing those threadbare monstrosities your husband called “sheets” (he’d huffed and rolled his eyes at your dramatics– “they are not going to rip your skin off” –but deep down he loved them too) and close your eyes, sinking into John’s touch. 

“Ready for me?” He questions, smoothing a hand up your spine, relishing in your shiver.

“Yes, need you to fuck me, John, please,” you breath, and who was he to deny you?

At your confirmation, he pushes in with a languid thrust, pulling you flush against him, giving you time to adjust. He can’t help but let out a low grumble at the view in front of him. He hasn’t even moved yet, and you’re already driving him insane. The feeling of being enveloped by you is indescribable. To be this close, to truly feel you, is unlike anything he’s ever experienced, and judging by the way you’re whimpering and trying to grind yourself back into him, he knows you feel the same. 

He sets a steady pace, unhurried, leisurely, and revels in the quiet mewls you let out. The tension pulling your muscles taut dissipated with every thrust, and John couldn’t be happier because that’s what he wanted. 

He wants to push all of those bad thoughts away. All he wants you to think about is him and how good he’s making you feel and to make you cum over and over until you’re spent. 

“That feel good, love?” he whispers in your ear, his chest pressed to your back.

“Yes, f-fuck s’good,” you gasp out, followed by a broken “I love you” that he returns while quickening his pace, fucking you deeper. He can’t help it, really. Hearing the fondness in your voice makes him want to worship you more, causing him to aim for the spot that always makes you shake, and he knows he’s got it when he hears your high-pitched keen.

You’re begging now, desperate pleas of “Please don’t stop” and “right there,” and he doesn’t need to see your face to know that your eyes are scrunched closed, mouth agape, to know that you look stunning. He wishes he could see your face, to see you when you reach your peak that you’re edging closer and closer to, and he will, but after you cum again for him.

“That’s it, good girl, always takin’ me so well,” he praises. “Take what you need. I won’t stop, promise. Just want to make you feel so good don’t want you to think about anything but cumming. You close f’me, love? Yeah? That pretty little cunt gonna soak my cock?” he questions, lifting your hips to rub your aching clit, knowing all you need is a little pressure to send you over the edge. 

Your words may be muffled, but your responding string of “yes” s are clear as day and only make him rut into you deeper. He needs you to fall over that edge again. Needs you to alleviate all that stress, and when you finally reach your peak with a muted sob of his name, he slows but doesn’t stop, watching in awe of the way you spasm around him, and waits for you to settle. 

You’re more pliant now, a bit hazy with pleasure, but he’s not done with you yet. No, he needs you, his beautiful, distinguished wife, to fully surrender yourself to him and the pleasure he’s bringing you, even if only for a while. All those years ago, he vowed to protect you, even if it’s from yourself, and he plans to do just that. He knows you have one more in you, and he intends to wring it out of you. 

A contented sigh escapes him as he pulls out before gently lifting you and laying you flat on your back once more. And when he sees your face, he’s reminded of just how breathtaking you are. Not that he ever forgot, but it’s a sight he never tires of. You’re one of the most precious beings he’s ever encountered, a goddess whom he’s eternally grateful has chosen to bless him with your presence, but now? Now, you’re glowing. He wishes he could immortalize the image in front of him, your eyes lidded, with a soft, blissed-out grin playing on your lips, but he’s brought back by the sound of your voice.

“You’re staring,” you tease, voice a little hoarse from use as you re-settle your glasses on your face.

“I could never get tired of looking at you, sweetheart,” he responds earnestly, unashamed that he had been caught because he truly could. There was just something about you that brought out such genuine affection in him. You give so much of yourself to others, and it makes him want to do everything in his power to pour the same love back into you. He can’t help but want to fulfill your every need. You deserve the world. Leaning into another kiss, he tries to convey what he can’t through words through his touch.

This is more passionate than the last, but he’s met with the same vigor from you. It’s easy to forget the task at hand, but your soft moans were enough of a reminder that he wasn’t finished with you yet. 

Lowering you back onto the bed, he guides himself into you, a deep groan rumbling in his chest while your mouth falls agape. There’s less pretense this time. You’re more than ready for him to start moving and thank god for it because as patient as he is, he’s only human, and you’re both getting desperate.

And when he pushes your knees towards your chest, laying your legs over his shoulders, the sound you make is borderline pornographic, and it’s then he realizes you may actually be the death of him. Holding himself back is proving more difficult by the second, so he opts for placing kisses on your calves to ground himself. He moves his hands, one going to hold the fat of your thigh for leverage while the other goes to cup your jaw. Any other time, he’d coax you to look at him, applying just enough pressure to make you face him, but he can see how overwhelmed you are.

Peering down at you, gaze unwavering, he sees your eyes barely open, all cloudy and lust blown, and he can’t help but tease you just a little, not that you mind.

“That’s it, this what you needed?” he practically coos at you, voice low and saccharine and growing gruffer by the second. “I haven’t been taking proper care of my angel, have I? No, no, that won’t do. Gotta make up for lost time. Poor thing, havin’ no one to fuck you properly when I’m not around. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” 

You try to answer, you really do, try to tell him you’ve missed him more and that no one makes you feel the way he does, but the words are like lead on your tongue, and your head is starting to feel fuzzy. The steady grind of his hips into yours and the feeling of being completely surrounded by him leaves you breathless, and all you can manage is a high-pitched sob that seems to satisfy him enough, and he keeps the pace. 

“Gonna be good and give me one more? Of course, you’re my perfect girl, always so obedient.” Your responding gasp is immediately met with praise. In truth, at the moment, you’d do just about anything he asked, and you could feel the pressure building quicker, pushing you closer to the edge.

“Don’t look away, love. Wanna see those pretty eyes get all teary for me” he murmurs, words slightly slurred, and you distantly realize he’s not as unaffected as you thought. “Look so good like this, just need you to let go. Can you do that? Gonna be my sweet girl and cum for me. Let go for me, love.” 

His gentle command, his firm grip, the pressure of him inside you paired with the almost feral glint in his eyes do you in, and before you know it, you’re back is arching, and you just gush for him with a soundless scream, soaking your lower halves. John isn’t far behind, and the relief of finally pumping you full is almost too much. You always get so tight when you cum, as if you don’t wanna let him go, so he indulges you, lowering your legs but not pulling out yet, instead opting to lay on top of you. 

For a while, neither of you moves, trying to gain your bearings, filling the room with your soft pants. 

Everything feels so serene, as if you two are the only people in the world. You exhale a contented sigh, eyes closed, relishing in the feeling of John’s body weight atop you.

After some time, he pulls out, shushing your whine of protest with a quick kiss before pulling you into his chest. As you burrow yourself further into him, John wraps you up in his arms. You always get so clingy after, a fact you’re endlessly embarrassed by, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s just another testament to how content, how safe you feel with him, and he cherishes the ability to give you the attention you crave.

Later, he’d clean you up, make you another cup of tea, seeing as the first was abandoned in your haste, get your favorite takeout, and set you up for a lazy night in, but for now, he holds you close. Warmth and exhaustion are seeping into your bones, and you peer up at John through your lashes and utter a quiet “thank you.” 

“No need to thank me, love. I’ll always be here for you,” he reminds, giving you a featherlight kiss on your forehead before continuing, “Get some sleep”

And as you drift off, you can’t help the upturn of your lips. Your mind was quiet, and you finally got the sleep you craved.

#john price x reader #captain price x reader #john price smut #captain john price x reader #price x reader #price smut #captain price #captain john price #john price

[kiyoowomi]

[7:17 pm]

“hurry up, hurry up, hurry up!” you say as he slowly takes careful steps towards you, eyes focused on the hot paper bowl of noodles still steaming from the hot water.

“i’m here, i’m here, i’m here!” he mocks teasingly, voice pitched higher than normal in an effort to exaggerate your own. you stick your tongue out at him and he grins in triumph as you clear the table in front of you.

discarded wraps of ume and mentaiko onigiris you had eaten earlier were still strewn about, and you hurriedly tossed them in the trash next to you. kiyoomi sets down the ramen on a clean part of the table and pulls out wet tissues, opening the tab and handing it to you. you both wordlessly begin to wipe down the surface, hands moving in perfect clockwork.

kiyoomi thinks it’s funny how even in an empty 7-11 convenience store, at the dead of night, the two of you still carry out the same routine. like it’s set in stone, like it’s part of your lives, like it’s embedded in your hearts.

he watches you toss the dirtied tissues in the bin and squeeze sanitizer on your palms, clapping it twice before you hand one of the wrapped chopsticks to him. when he doesn’t take it immediately, your eyes shift to where he is sitting on your right.

“what?” you ask, right eyebrow raised. 

he’s looking into your eyes directly now, dark irises seemingly stripping you of any secret you’ve kept your whole life.

what you don’t know is that he’s thinking of how thankful he is of how his whole life led up to this. 

you squirm under his piercing gaze and when your face turns into a confused grimace, he plucks the chopsticks and rips the paper wrapping open. kiyoomi takes a moment to brace himself, then breaks the chopsticks apart (perfectly, of course) and hands it to you, retrieving the other one from the table for himself.

“are you going to tell me what happened just then? it seems like you’ve got a lot on your mind.” you remark while stirring the noodles. he shakes his head. “it’s a secret.”

“come on, i tell you everything and you keep secrets from me?”

“i would trade you one secret if you give me some of those chocolate cookies you stashed away in the back of the cabinet so you can have it all to yourself. tsk, tsk. it was the good kind, too.” he jokes, feigning disappointment and sadness.

you give him a side eye before picking a big clump of noodles with your chopsticks, forgetting for a millisecond that they are, indeed, still boiling hot. you yelp and he whips his head while letting go of his own chopsticks, immediately taking your own in his hands as he blows on your lips and scalded tongue. 

small beads of tears form in the corner of your eyes as you try to recover from the burn, but even with a hazy view blocked by liquids and the harsh lights in the store, kiyoomi’s face is clearer than ever. 

you recall how long it took for the both of you to warm up to each other when you were both introduced by a mutual friend.

you also recall how quick he contacted you, exactly a day after, admitting that he had fun and would like to hang out with you again (against his built up pride of the stoic man that he presents himself as is—or was, now that you know him really well).

and now he’s sitting in front of you, legs beside both of your thighs encasing you, blowing on your tongue you foolishly burnt because you were thinking about what he’s thinking. you let out a cackle and kiyoomi stops blowing.

“what are you thinking about? what was that?”

you stare at him before smirking. “it’s a secret.” you whisper, mimicking him earlier. he stares at you for a really long time before attacking your face with pecks of kisses.

you don’t try to stop him and instead let out some giggles. in the beginning, he’ll only ever do this when there’s no one around. now, he’s gotten bolder with his constant showering of affection. you decide to savor the moment and let him have it. 

he stops and looks into your eyes again, face still in his hands. “you. are. a. menace.” he says, pecking your lips with every word. he lets go of you and turns back to his own noodles, slurping some of them once they cooled down to a better temperature. you focus on your own too, and both of you eat in silence.

with his mouth full of noodles, kiyoomi stares at you lovingly. you are aware of it, but you stare straight ahead and focus on the cars outside on the highway to distract yourself from getting shy.

kiyoomi suddenly hugs you. he rests his head on your left shoulder, joining you in your car-watching while simultaneously looking up and admiring your features. you keep your face straight and try your best to keep it rigid. you’re getting red from all the staring anyway. this is your last defense from getting embarrassed. you expect him to go back to his noodles.

contrary to your expectations, however, he leans in.

your heart begins to race.

he leans in really, really close to your ears.

you swear you’re getting palpitations.

“i love you. thank you for being in my life,” he whispers before kissing you sweetly on the left cheek.

your heart feels like it’s going to burst.

you slowly turn your blushing face at him, and you melt when you see him as red as a tomato. the same as you are right now. you’re at a loss for words, so you opted to kiss him. deeply this time. you put your hands around his neck and continue kissing until you break apart while catching your breath.

it takes you a few minutes to reply back.

“you taste spicy.”

“you taste spicy too.”

you both laugh heartily. his right dimple comes out, and so does the one on your left. you go back to watching the cars, putting your left arm around his shoulder as he leans in to you.

“do you think i should get a car?” you ask.

“you can ride in mine. but it’s up to you.” he replies.

you’re getting sleepy. he is too. you mull the thought over.

“nah. i think i’ll hitch a ride in your car forever.” you finally say. kiyoomi happily hums in reply. ‘the passenger seat is only for you and no one else, anyway,’ he thinks.

both of you don’t say it, but the both of you like this. five years down the line, the two of you still carry out the same routine. like it’s set in stone, like it’s part of your lives, like it’s embedded in your hearts.

🌿 footnotes:

i am the convenience store employee watching these two idiots being in love and gushing over how adorable they are ….. haha …ha…. sucks to be single ……. i guess….. 🫠

stamped and mailed with love,

joo 🌸

#sakusa x reader #sakusa fluff #sakusa fic #sakusa imagine #sakusa x you #sakusa x y/n #sakusa kiyoomi x you #haikyuu imagine #hq x reader #hq x you #hq x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #sakusa drabble #hq sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu sakusa #i guess this is still self insert lol #dammit i just want him to be real okay !!! #hibiscus farm’s freshly picked produce.🌷 #—writings from: december 2022🌷 #sakusa x female reader #sakusa x gn!reader

[andithiel]

I wrote a thing for the first prompt of @hdcandyheartsfest "Second Date"! This got away from me a little, it's 1,3k so I'm putting it under a cut. Rated T I guess for mentions of sexy stuff having happened and going to happen again. Thank you as always to the bestest of betas, my lovely @crazybutgood 💖💕

When Draco wakes up, he’s in an unfamiliar bed. Unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. The mattress is a little softer than he’d like, and the sheets are way too rumpled to be comfortable, but there’s also a pleasant ache in his muscles that’s probably the reason why he’s put up with—

He snaps his eyes open, wide awake now. Shit. Shit shit shit. It all comes back to him, how Harry kissed him when they were saying goodbye and how that kiss led Draco to forget all about grace and decorum, and how he foolishly went back to Harry’s.

This was a bad idea. He needs to find a way to get out of this.

He rolls out of bed and starts Summoning his clothes. His shirt comes flying from a chair by the door where Harry carelessly tossed it after he’d struggled with the buttons, and Draco hadn’t even objected. His trousers, pants and socks fly up in a bundled heap from closer to the bed, because Harry had stripped him off them in one motion before sitting him down on the bed and going down on him. Draco’s heart rate speeds up at the memory of Harry wrapping his lips around him while his green eyes looked up at Draco under heavy lids.

There are soft clinking noises coming from the kitchen, shaking Draco from his mental image, and he notices a delicious smell wafting through the half-ajar door. He quickly pulls his clothes on, trying his best to ignore how they’re all wrinkled beyond recognition and comfort (really, it’s not like him to get so carried away that he forgets about these things), and sneaks towards the kitchen.

Harry’s standing by the stove, scooping bacon on a platter. His hair is rumpled, his t-shirt ill-fitting after many washes, but looking so soft that Draco wants to feel it under his fingertips. The grey joggers are equally soft-looking, and the elastics have gone lax so that they’re sitting obscenely on his hips, making a gap between the shirt and the hem of the trousers where one could easily slide a hand in and—

“Aw, shit, you’re already up!” Draco snaps out of his ogling and fantasising and looks up at Harry, who’s smiling bashfully. “I was hoping to wake you up myself.”

“Oh. No worries. I, uh…” Draco starts, but doesn’t have time to say that he really must be going before Harry’s grabbed him by the hand and dragged him through the kitchen into the dining room, plate of bacon in his other hand.

“Sit down, I’ll just get the orange juice. Tea’s already here.”

Harry dashes off, and Draco blinks as he takes in the amount of food before him: the table is crammed with a lavish breakfast that looks like it could feed at least one of the house tables at Hogwarts. He doesn’t have time to digest it all before Harry has returned and plopped down beside him.

“Please, help yourself!” When Draco doesn’t move, he continues, “I didn’t know what you like so I made some of everything. I, er… I hope it’s not too much.”

He rubs at his neck, a shy smile on his face, and Draco shouldn’t find it as endearing as he does. He knew that agreeing to a date with Harry Potter would be dangerous territory, and now here he is, stupidly infatuated with the man.

Draco tentatively reaches for the kettle and pours himself a mug of steaming Darjeeling, first flush, if his nose isn’t deceiving him. But he doesn’t dare to eat anything, too afraid he won’t get anything down for fear of it rising back up.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asks, and it’s more than annoying how adorable he looks when he’s worried.

Draco clears his throat, deciding that he’ll need to just spit it out. “I’m sorry, I— I never sleep with anyone on the first date.”

Harry perks up, a pleased, almost boyish smile on his face. “Really?” 

“Yes, really,” Draco says, and before he has time to regret it he blurts, “because when I do, there have never been any more dates after that.” It’s a difficult thing to admit, and on top of that, he doesn’t want to examine how disappointed he is with himself that he couldn’t control himself enough to refrain from going home with Harry. He’d had big hopes for this date, and now, there’s not going to be any more of them.

“So, when do you usually sleep with someone?”

Draco’s not sure he heard right. He knows Harry lacks a few filters that Draco himself has had firmly installed by his parents, but even by those standards, that’s kind of an invasive question. 

“Second date? Third?” Harry continues.

“I’m… Fourth, I guess,” Draco says, giving up on decorum. Merlin knows he lost it with Harry ages ago.

“Hmmm.” Harry scratches his head, messing his hair up even more (Draco does his best to ignore how it still looks like he’s newly fucked), then fishes out his wand from his pocket. He Summons a pair of candles from the other side of the room and lights them with his wand. Then, with another swish of his wand, he dims the lights. “Okay!” he says finally, looking at Draco with glittering eyes. “We’ve got candles, we’ve got flowers,” he indicates the bouquet haphazardly thrown into a vase standing in the middle on the table, “and I cooked you a meal. The most important meal of the day, might I add. By any standards, this definitely counts as a date.”

Draco swallows while he finally dares to see all the things that Harry has done for him this morning, but he doesn’t have the courage to believe that Harry is going where Draco hopes he’s going. 

“And I was thinking of asking you to go with me to the cinema tonight, because I assume you’ve never been to a Muggle cinema before and I think you’d really like it,” Harry continues, and even leans forward, taking Draco’s hand and brushing it with his thumb.

For the first time in his life, Draco is speechless. Not out of fear or embarrassment, but because there’s a tiny bubble of hope rising in his chest, through his throat, threatening to burst out in hysterical laughter.

“I don’t sleep with anyone on the first date, either,” Harry says, and his expression is so open and earnest, more than usual. “Not unless I’m really into them.” 

Draco inhales shakily; he’d no idea he’d been holding his breath. “So, you’re into me?”

Harry lets out a soft laugh, but Draco also notices his shoulders dropping. Was he also unsure about Draco’s intention? 

“What do you think?” Harry murmurs and leans in for a kiss, lips gentle and exploring against Draco’s, even though they had plenty of practice yesterday. 

Draco’s a little light-headed when they break apart, but he manages to find his words. “I think I could be persuaded to sleep with you on the second date.”

Harry laughs again, a little louder this time, relieved. “Then we’d better get this date started, because I have some things I’d like to do that we didn’t have time for last night.”

“Oh,” Draco says, fishing out a scone from the bread basket in front of him. “Would that involve the handcuffs I saw next to the bottle of lube in your bedside drawer?”

“Nah, that’s for the ninth date, at the earliest,” Harry says, almost causing Draco to choke on his scone. 

But by now, Draco has found his footing, and he’s not willing to be outdone by Harry. “So, if we go at the same rate as planned, dating wise, I could have you tied up and have my way with you by…” he counts on his fingers, “Monday.” 

He turns to Harry, whose eyes have become darker and breathing heavier.

“I can make an exception,” he says, grabbing Draco’s hand. “I think this date is nearing the end.”

#drarry #hd candy hearts fest #day 1 #second date #fluff #andithielwrites #pining (sort of?) #insecurities for sure #andi’s candy hearts

[spacexseven]

Omg omg! Weird thought: SELKIE DARL.

mini rundown: selfies are supernatural seals that can turn into gorgeous humans when they shed their skin/coat. Buutt, if a human takes their coat, they usually end having to marry said human.

I imagine Chuuya and Akutagawa wouldn’t our right take to coat at first. Maybe they become friends and soon they find themselves catching feeling for the selkie. They’ll probably take the coat and hide it out of guilt. Offer to help selkie darl. But they soon find out and fight ensues.

With Dazai and Fyodor they might just watch you from afar at first and then straight up take the coat and trap you. You have no choice to get married ti them do you? After the marriage thing, they might threaten to or even go through with tearing the coat and permanently stoping you from turning to your seal form and wining away.

Buut, if you do manage to get you coat and leave? What would happen then?

i've read about selkies before but i'm not familiar with everything about them, so if i get anything wrong here do let me know :>

cw: yandere characters (chuuya, akutagawa, dazai, fyodor), obsessive behavior, manipulation, stalking, threats, imprisonment, forced marriage

chuuya sees you slip out of your skin one night, and he's mesmerized. of course, he isn't stupid enough to fall for someone just because of their otherworldly beauty, even if he knew they were actually something not human. what really gets him is when he starts seeing you around town in your human form, all smiling and friendly to everyone around you—including him, though the both of you were virtually strangers. you're so sweet to him, despite not knowing him, when you see him around your eyes light up and you get excited and he finds it...cute. in this scenario, you're more likely to fall for him first. after all, he's stunning, and it helps that he's so elusive; the mysterious air around him definitely adds to the appeal.

you were too good to him, especially since you had no idea of all the sinister things he was planning, but he would be lying if he said he hated the attention. eventually, he can't hide his feelings back, and even if you reciprocate, he insists it's for the best that you hand over your coat. what if someone took it, or hurt you because of it? at least, it'd always be safe with chuuya. you could trust him, you know.

akutagawa would be the opposite; he falls for you before knowing you weren't human. he's also taken by you, your personality, your friendliness—even if you don't like him in that way, he falls for you, and hard. it just so happens one day that he learns about your secret, and without thinking, when your back was turned, he swoops in and runs off with your coat.

you might realize he has it, perhaps he tells you he found something on the shore, not making it obvious he knew it was yours. you wouldn't want him to know you weren't human, so you decide the next best thing was to get him to gift it back to you. he did say he might save it as a gift for someone special in the future, and you could easily weasel your way to that spot with him being more than aware of your intentions but just as happy. regardless, akutagawa holds it from you for as long as he can, frantically searching for ways to forcefully keep you by his side because he knows you'd take it and disappear if he gave you your coat back. it's possible he might destroy it if he finds no other way. i don't think it's possible to escape in this scenario because akutagawa pulls all the stops (including destroying your coat) to make sure you stay with him.

dazai...he approaches you out of curiosity at first. you'd have foolishly switched into your human/seal form in a place where he had seen you, which is how he learned about your true identity. he's mostly only curious about you, at least, at first. he had no idea that such creatures existed and he wants to know more. dazai makes it clear from the start that he knows all about you, and stalks you constantly so that you couldn't hide from him. if it comes to a point where he thinks he likes you too much to risk you running off or going back to the sea, especially since he still has so many unanswered questions, dazai can easily find and steal your coat, leaving you at his mercy. and then, at every small mishap, he's all like, "i hope nothing happens to your coat!" and it's torture because you know he would easily go through with his threats. after all, he has nothing to lose from it.

for fyodor, i think similarly to chuuya it might be that selkie! reader falls for him first. i'm thinking, maybe a little mermaidesque thing where you're like wow humans are so cool and fyodor just happens to be walking by (pure coincidence! of course he hadn't been watching you for long before that and knew that you thought humans were interesting! of course not!) fyodor just has that charm about him.

he pretends to catch you staring at him one day, pretends to be startled by your presence. and it's worth it when your shocked expression meets his feigned one. it's easy for fyodor to start an unlikely friendship with you though he's not very talkative or expressive, you're satisfied with his company. and you trust him enough to not suspect him when one day your coat is missing and you're stuck in your human form. fyodor swoops in to help you, offering you shelter and food while he promises to find your coat.

obviously, the truth quickly comes to light when you realize it was fyodor with your coat all along. it's not like you can fight him when he's got a literal part of you that you need to return to your family in hand. he doesn't take any chances and destroys it at once, trapping you with him and dooming you to a miserable future forever.

#yandere bsd #this is so cool!!! selkies r so cool!!! #ask 🐟 #yandere x reader #yandere bungo stray dogs #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bungo stray dogs x reader #yandere bsd x selkie reader #bsd 🐟 #dazai 🐟 #yandere fyodor dostoevsky #yandere dazai x reader #yandere fyodor x reader #yandere akutagawa x reader #yandere chuuya x reader #fyodor 🐟 #chuuya 🐟 #akutagawa 🐟

[e-wills-afterhours]

Pretentious Coffee, Chapter 4

A/N: I saw a quote on Tumblr that I believe is attributable to F. Scott Fitzgerald. He said something to the effect of life is a struggle between the overwhelming desire to write and the series of circumstances that seem to conspire to keep him from writing. Y'all. That's it. That's the whole deal. I am trying. However, a surprise December tornado devastated my town (it made national news so I'm giving my location away there). My children fell ill. My husband had to go to a funeral in Arizona for a buddy who died from colorectal cancer. Then, in my caring for said ill children, I also caught the ill.

On the bright side, I'm usually left alone while sick. I aim to get some new writing done instead of just uploading parts of old fics, like this one. Please bear with me and my half-delusional, high on decongestant writings.

-------

Astrid’s feet were cold, and her boots were soaked through with snow. Wool socks made little difference. Her body was numb beneath thick layers, but that was for an entirely different reason than the weather. She had gone against her better judgment by deciding to tag along with Ruffnut to her brother’s party, but she took a chance that she might actually enjoy herself.

The severity of her mistake became clear within the first ten minutes.

She had only just gotten a beer for herself, joining Ruffnut, Tuffnut, and the other party-goers gathered around the fire pit blazing in the tiny backyard. No one else arrived at first and she had begun to feel foolishly optimistic that it would remain a smaller, more relaxed affair—much more her speed.

Then a SUV pulled up, and a half-dozen people spilled out of it, followed by two more sedans. She recognized one but dismissed it as a common make and model to soothe the anxious twist in her stomach.

But, the door opened, and a tall, muscular figure she knew all too well emerged with an infuriating swagger. From the passenger side, he was joined by a pretty girl with long, black hair pulled into a loose plait—much like Astrid wore hers, insultingly enough.

The very person she left her dorm to forget was strolling up to the fire with his new lover on his arm: the girl who had ended everything. The one he cheated on Astrid with, only to finally leave her for.

“I didn’t know he would be here,” Ruffnut whispered urgently. “Shit. We can go.”

Astrid shook her head, eyes narrowing as the crunching of snow beneath the crowd of boots grew louder. Tuffnut and his friends called out to the newcomers, and they hollered back. It was then Astrid’s eyes met her ex’s, and she took small satisfaction in the hesitancy of his next few steps.

So, he was still feeling guilty? Good.

More bottlecaps popped and the huddle around the crackling fire grew tighter. Astrid was closer to the source of her frustration than she had been in over a month. She could feel his eyes on her, wanting her attention—he had  always wanted her attention, never content to let her pursue her own interests outside of himself and school. He was not controlling, but…persistent?

That had been fine in high school when prepping for college was all that mattered, and he had been a pleasant way to unwind from sports and homework. They were always together when their schedules had allowed it, pouring their energy into being the power couple—alphas in the adolescent pecking order.

University was a different world, though. New opportunities and a fresh start called to Astrid, and she had started to drift from him, only a little, as she branched out toward new interests. She thought it was a good thing—a way to grow and have more to share to enrich her relationship.

She quickly learned, however, that things became a competition. Who was having more fun? Who was faring better in their courses? Whose accomplishments were more brag-worthy, and who was better taking advantage of their new independence?

Astrid quickly grew weary of it. She had no interest in competing against her boyfriend, simply because he felt he had no one else to compete with. She understood his drive and his confidence. She shared those same traits to an extent, and that was what first attracted her to Eret. There was no thinking involved. It had been easy. They were one and the same.

But when she deliberately put more distance between them, coming up with excuses and activities to fill her schedule, he responded in kind—a sort of “two can play at this game”, she figured. They saw each other the weekends, and still went out on dates. Things weren’t great, but they were okay in her mind. They were holding it together and still having fun, though the emotional adhesive in their relationship had grown more brittle than she had realized.

Eret had likely already been seeing his new girl on the side, but Astrid had been clueless for a time. Maybe they had not yet started sleeping together then. Astrid knew him to have more integrity than that.

She eventually decided they were something worth saving and had shown up at his apartment unannounced. She had only wanted to talk, to regain some of the spark they had lost…and that was how she had found out about the other woman. Halfhearted excuses chased her all the way to her car as Eret stumbled after her, trying to wipe the lipstick off his face.

No official declaration ended their relationship. Such a thing was unneccessary and redundant. The tears that had blurred her vision then were more from the sting of wounded pride than true heartache.

Even as Astrid stood beside Ruffnut in the snow, determinedly avoiding eye contact with Eret, it was her wounded pride that was still hardest to tolerate. Thoughts of him plagued her, not because she wanted him back, but because he had made a fool of her. There was no closure, because she would not speak to him or give him the satisfaction of apologizing. He wouldn’t get to have the last word. She kept him on a hook because he deserved to sweat.

He deserved to be made uncomfortable by the mere sight of her, and so things went unresolved. Her pride, still raw.

“I’m going inside,” she told Ruffnut. “It’s too cold out here, suddenly.”

She didn’t wait for a response, marching toward the backdoor with purpose. The chatter faded as soon as the door shut behind her, replaced by the latest hit music and quieter, more intimate conversations between the few, less social individuals hiding from the elements.

There were cheesy Christmas lights strung up in the kitchen, extending through the open floor plan. The most pathetic fake tree was tucked in the corner, decorated with cleavage ornaments and small, plastic pin-up girls. Instead of a star, it was topped with a glittering marijuana leaf.

Astrid rolled her eyes.

She set her beer down on the kitchen counter and shrugged off her coat. There was a pile of hats, scarves, and winter jackets draped over the sofa closest to the front door, and she added to it.

No one cared that she was there, wrapped up in their own conversations. It was nice and what she had originally expected. She did, however, stand out like a sore thumb, hovering by the door alone. To be a wallflower was entirely new.

She made her way back to the kitchen and her beer, noting the hints of Tuffnut and Snotlout in every immature, novelty Christmas decoration, and the swimsuit model calendar tacked to the side of the refrigerator. She envied the other people sitting around and chatting away about anything and everything, sharing their half-baked revolutionary ideas that would surely change the world.

Astrid never had much practice with philosophical conversation outside the classroom. She fancied herself much more pragmatic.

“Are you stalking me now?”

The simple question cut through her reverie.

She jumped and nearly dropped her beer on the faded linoleum. From the corner of her eye, a tall, slim figure sauntered out from the hall to her left. She was gobsmacked, blatantly gaping. Her shame was in pieces on the floor, like her bottle had nearly been, as her mouth hung open.

“What are you doing here?” she blurted out.

Hiccup, the coffee barista, shuffled around her to get to the refrigerator. He was nonchalant in his T-shirt and sweatpants, like there wasn’t a party going on around him, and they often did the very same awkward dance in cramped spaces.

“I, uh…live here?” he replied, pulling out his own beer. “I didn’t realize that was such an offense.” Astrid continued to stare at him and he leaned back against the adjacent counter, drumming the fingers of his freehand on it. “I’m beginning to think everything I do offends you, actually.”

“What? I—no. No, it doesn’t,” Astrid answered hotly. “I would just like to enjoy myself without any aggravations, for once.”

He popped off his bottle cap. “I’ve been called many things. ‘Aggravation’ is new.”

Astrid scrunched her eyes closed and took a deep breath. When she gazed at him again, she hoped it would be with less obvious annoyance.

Admittedly, she had been thinking about him too much, pondering his sarcastic wit and why it lingered in her consciousness.

“I didn’t mean you’re an aggravation, specifically,” she amended. “I’m just not in the mood to listen to—.”

“Nice backpedaling. Why say it, then? Exercising that baccalaureate vocabulary?”

Her face fell. “Because you seem to lack a basic conversational filter. Or charm. I haven’t figured out which.”

He shrugged. “Well, if pedestrian talk of First World problems is more your thing—“

“Then I would’ve taken a sociology course,” she scoffed.

They made eye contact over the lip of their respective bottles and he grinned.

Astrid felt a strange prickling beneath her skin—butterflies made of fire that she hadn’t felt in quite a while.

His sass should’ve turned her off. If he was anyone else, she’d have walked away and never looked back. But, their banter held the dim embers of excitement. Each exchange was giving oxygen to the burgeoning heat that she had once felt for Eret—and yet whatever drew her to Hiccup felt entirely novel. She wasn’t even sure it had a name.

“Attraction” seemed too juvenile, but “lust” also missed the mark. It had nothing to do with the physical essence of him. Too many years, she had been with the male reflection of herself. Hiccup was something different—a challenge to her concept of what was normal and desirable. He was intriguing—a hypnotic fascination that drew her closer to some kind of rabbit hole. If she fell, she didn’t know where she would end up, but it would certainly be somewhere much further than where she had already been.

After all, wasn’t college about branching out and trying new things?

She took a large swig of beer, her rational brain screeching for attention.

What was wrong with her?

She wasn’t the kind of person who looked for a rebound lay—but then again, she had never been on the rebound.

Still, she was a stranger unto herself, sizing up this young man she hardly knew, and frighteningly, he was hitting all the marks on some mysterious list tucked behind the most desirable traits she had first dreamed up when she was twelve.

“I see you’re hard at work on ‘not being hungover’,” Hiccup teased, nodding to the drink in her hand.

Astrid smirked. “Indeed. This is my one and only tonight.”

He quirked an eyebrow and chuckled. “Color me impressed. A true achievement.”

They shared a genuine smile and Astrid felt her numb body warming down to her toes—until the backdoor opened. Several party-goers filed in to escape the cold, including Tuffnut, Snotlout, some of their friends, and Eret, with his girlfriend.

Astrid felt as though she had been thrown back out into the snow.

She nearly dropped her drink a second time when Hiccup said, “Hello, Eret.”

Eret nodded and his girlfriend shifted her weight uncomfortably beside him, glancing back toward the door.

“You know each other?” Astrid hissed, eyes darting back and forth between her past headache and her future gamble.

“Sure,” Hiccup replied flatly, not bothering to lower his voice. “I know he’s in the business of stealing people’s girlfriends.” He raised his bottle and Eret’s jaw clenched. “And business is good, isn’t it, Heather?”

The girl on Eret’s arm looked away with a scowl, and Astrid felt like she had been catapulted into an afternoon soap opera.

#hiccstrid #hiccstrid fic #hiccstrid modern au #pretentious coffee au

[vampireninjabunnies-blog]

Bumblebee

Another WIP scene because I can't quite connect the pieces yet. @redreart

John Seed x Esther

Esther stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her to find John looking out the window at the sunset. Only half dressed and seemingly lost in thought.

"Somethin on your mind hummingbird?" She cocked her head to one side as he turned to her. He grinned as he ran his eyes over her.

"No not really. Just work for the project."

She walked over to him, her hips swaying in a way he deeply appreciated.

"That one's new. I haven't seen it before." She lightly ran her delicate fingers over a tattoo of a hummingbird on the left side of his chest right near his heart.

His cheeks flushed slightly, a little embarrassed that she'd seen it. He'd gotten it while she still lived in Atlanta. Having missed her terribly every time he'd left her to return here.

"It...um. It reminded me of you. When I was away." He spoke softly. As though he expected her to mock him for being foolishly sentimental.

"So it's not a project tattoo?" She looked up at him, leaning closer, tracing the lines of the hummingbird.

The corners of his mouth twitch a brief smile. "No. This one's just for me."

"Oh, a secret. I didn't think you were allowed to have those."

"Joseph doesn't need to know everything." His hand trailing up her arm.

She pulled away from him. "You do them yourself right?"

"Mostly, except when placement would make it too challenging."

She sat on the bed beckoning him to join her. He was curious as he sat. Boldly running his hand up her bare thigh. Her skin was soft as silk. She didn't stop him when he reached under the towel making light circles along her hip. He didn't like when she teased him. A bad habit of hers that he intended to break her of, when she was finally ready.

Her body seemed to flush. He wouldn't go any further than she wanted. She knew that. Still she sometimes wondered if his patience would wane and he'd grow bored of her. She looked at him through her long lashes, biting her lip. His pupils were blown, his breath still as he stared down at her thigh. His eyes following the trail his hand had made. Waiting to see where this was going.

"Give me one." She whispered.

His eyes shot up to meet hers. "What?"

She placed her hand over his,where it rested on her hip. Guiding it closer to the junction between her thighs.

"Here. Give me one right here."

Shocked by her sudden forwardness, he cleared his throat. Trying desperately to ignore the throbbing of cock and focus on her request.

"It'll hurt. Especially there. It's sensitive."

"I know but I still want you to."

She ran her hand through his hair. He licked his lips swallowing back the deep groan building in his throat.

"W...what did you have in mind?"

She leaned close to him, her lips brushing the shell of his ear, her warm breath sending shivers down his spine.

"You're the only one who's going to see it. It's your claim to stake, so you decide how to mark me John." She purred, nipping at his ear. "Please."

He stood, pulling away. "Wait here." He strode quickly through the door.

She waited impatiently. Squirming at the growing heat in her core. She jumped a little, startled when he finally returned.

"Are you sure?" He asked,preparing the tattoo gun. "You can say no."

She nodded her head, the freckles dappling her skin highlighted by the deepening flush of arousal. He sat down on the bed, gently laying her down.

"I'll be as gentle as I can but try not to move."

Shifting the towel out his way he began to tattoo her tender flesh. Trying not to let the heady scent of her distract him. It suddenly crossed his mind to pause his task and taste her. To see if she tasted as sweet as she smelled. He glanced up at her as he worked. She was doing her best not to move, though he knew it hurt. He was done fairly quickly, having chosen to give her something small.

A bee and his initials. For HIS buzzy little bumblebee.

He placed a gentle kiss on the fresh mark before dressing it. Looking up at her again, he lightly ran his fingers over her folds. Finding her wet and making her jolt. He ignored his own aching need and moved to lay down beside her. Pulling her close to simply hold her.

She whined in protest when he stopped her hand as she tugged at his waist band. Knowing full well that this was the most intimate thing she'd ever done with anyone. Not wanting to get caught up in the moment, take things too far and risk having her regret it.

"Not a good idea. That's going to be sore for a few days."

She sighed relenting. Closing her eyes and snuggling into him. He pulled the covers over them and ran his fingers through her hair. as she relaxed and drifted off. Content to listen to her soft breathing until he drifted off himself.

#johnseedxesther #john seed #oc:esther seed #mild ns*w #first time writing anything spicy #tattooing #bumblebee #fic:roses on my barren soul #wip: roses on my barren soul #wip wednesday #fic wip

[childofchrist1983]

Moreover the word of the LORD came to me, saying, Go and cry in the ears of Jerusalem, saying, Thus saith the LORD; I remember thee, the kindness of thy youth, the love of thine espousals, when thou wentest after me in the wilderness, in a land that was not sown. Israel was holiness unto the LORD, and the firstfruits of his increase: all that devour him shall offend; evil shall come upon them, saith the LORD. - Jeremiah 2:1-3 KJV

Throughout the years, we see many men, women and children who had chosen to become Christians, their faces shining with joy as they came up out of the Baptism pool. We see their fervor as they became active in the church community, and parents or grandparents who brought their children to classes. Some of them remain active in the church community and have the same or greater love of Jesus Christ as they had in the first flush of their joy in becoming a Christian. Others either found it too difficult to maintain the lifestyle changes Christianity calls for, or lost their fervor and became a lukewarm "sometimes" follower of Christ. As we read this Bible passage about Israel, we are reminded of these same people who foolishly walk away from the Christian faith.

God kept reminding the Israelites of His great love for them and His willingness to forgive. He is reminding them of the fidelity and love they once felt for the God who brought them out of Egypt and who saved them over and over again form those who would destroy them. Now, they had lost their fervor for doing the will of God. They had turned to a life that was less demanding, becoming more selfish and less just. They took for granted that God was there – if they thought about God at all!

Jeremiah is reminding them of their former kindness toward one another and their hearts that were turned to him and not to idols. For those who decided to become Christians, there will not be any invasion that will take away everything they have, and I am sure that Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ will rekindle in them the fire and love they once had, like the marriage that cools after the honeymoon, but blossoms again as time goes by. For the Israelites, not listening and turning back to God will have much graver consequences. The message for us is also clear: if we have lost the fervor of our first coming to Christ, we need to do something about it. May we look at our own lives and if we have become complacent, stir up the love we have for Him and His Holy Word and bring us back to the joy for the LORD God Almighty we once had at the start of our walk with Him in our Christian faith.

May we humble ourselves before God always, asking Him to forgive our sins and make our hearts and lives anew through His Holy Word and Spirit. May He help us make Him and His Holy Word top priority, so we can grow spiritually and grow in our relationship with Him as we apply it to our daily lives. Thank God that we can focus on Him and everything about Him, for that is what keeps us sane and at peace. May our words and actions always be a reflection of Him and His Holy Word and Spirit and will for all our lives.

Everyday, we must remember to thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for the grace that He poured out for us on the cross at Calvary. He has freed us from the burdens of sin and guilt. May He help us to always walk in His grace and Holy Spirit, not by our own measure. May He give us the humble humility to know that our freedom and eternal salvation is found only in Him, so that His grace may sustain us, and we may never lose sight of His love and light and mercy. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for calling us to Him and to serve Him. May He equip us to do all that He has called us to do so that as He works through us, He may use us to produce fruit, to reach others, and to encourage all brothers and sisters in Christ. May He work all of these things in us and through us for His Kingdom and His glory. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for all His creation, for His miraculous ways and for everything He does and has done for us! Keep the faith and keep moving forward in your walk with Jesus!

Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His Holy Word and for sending His Holy Spirit so that we might have His grace, not only to awaken us and transform our hearts in our spiritual rebirth and guarantee our eternity with Him, but to also call upon Him whenever we are in need. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for all the reminders of His love and mercy and faithfulness within His Holy Word. He is bigger than any challenge or circumstance in our lives. Knowing this within our minds and our hearts, nothing can deter our faith in Him and His Truth. May we all accept Him and His eternal gift of salvation and ask that He would transform our hearts and lives according to His will and ways. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His Holy Spirit who saves, seals and leads us. May we always thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His almighty power and saving grace. For He is our strength, and He alone is able to save us, forgive our sins and gift us eternal salvation and entry into His Kingdom of Heaven.

May we make sure that we give our hearts and lives to God and take time to seek and praise Him and share His Truth with the world daily. May the LORD our God and Father in Heaven help us to stay diligent and obedient and help us to guard our hearts in Him and His Holy Word daily. May He help us to remain faithful and full of excitement to do our duty to Him and for His glorious return and our reunion in Heaven as well as all that awaits us there. May we never forget to thank the LORD our God and our Creator and Father in Heaven for all this and everything He does and has done for us! May we never forget who He is, nor forget who we are in Christ and that God is always with us! What a mighty God we serve! What a Savior this is! What a wonderful LORD, God, Savior and King we have in Jesus Christ! What a loving Father we have found in Almighty God! What a wonderful God we serve! His will be done!

Thanks and glory be to God! Blessed be the name of the LORD! Hallelujah and Amen!

[movemnt]

@perditos sent: ‘ we yield to it or we fight it , but we cannot meet it halfway . ’ -- Zelda Ronoa to Rauru

He was visiting Sonia's grave just one last time, taking the chance as the sages prepared, and knowing it would be his last time seeing the stone above her resting place.

He didn't want it to end this way. He just wanted peace.

That's all Rauru was trying to achieve throughout this entire feud; peace. That's what he was trying to do when he decided to keep Ganondorf at bay, and when he met him halfway before that. He let him in, he thought an agreement could be made, a peace could be wagered, or so he foolishly told himself. Hyrule could be at peace; together. That was thrown out the window the moment he saw his dead wife in Zelda's arms, backstabbed by Ganondorf. Now? Now, after he's tried everything he could other than war, now he knew that he had to stop it, to fight for Hyrule. He had to seal Ganondorf away. Never has he been more sure, even as his mind was whirring with a thousand rage, grief-fueled thoughts while he turned away from Sonia's grave one last time. As he tried to clear his head, he could barely hear the words from Zelda as he leaves the fresh row of graves.

"Ganondorf has grown too corrupted to yield to him... so we fight it." He replied, nodding to Zelda's attempt to urge him. "I know what I must do, I cannot yield while he rains havoc upon Hyrule." He finished just before the sages started to join them where they stood. Before losing Sonia, the reality he found himself in had not occurred to him as a possibility. Losing Hyrule, losing Sonia, the thought that both could happen never sunk in because there's never been a threat as large as this ; and now, as he stood with his sages, he felt so naïve to think so. But he couldn't focus on that anymore, not while he still had a chance to save Hyrule.

"I thank you all for fighting alongside me, I trust you the most to help me in this war." A brief thanks to the sages as they gather, then features harden. "We are leaving. Now."

#perditos #rauru ;; ic #totk spoilers #the legend of zelda spoilers #zelda just kinda kicked his ass in gear #i wanted him to be more talky but. yknow what. #his wife just died. no time for talk. time to go seal her killer away for thousands of years.

[cuubism]

Flight - Chapter 6

Magnus couldn’t stop pacing. After speaking with Jace and Izzy, after sending their incendiary message to the Council in Idris, he had retreated back to Ragnor’s cottage. As much as he wanted to go home, home was obvious, home wasn’t safe—not to mention the massive hole blown in his bedroom wall. But he wondered at what point Ragnor would kick him out for wearing a hole in his carpet.

“Updates?” he asked tightly, phone grasped in his hand. Ragnor, sitting at the table with a cup of tea, watched worriedly, and Magnus could sense the trepidation from Izzy and Jace, also on the line, even if they weren’t physically present.

Lydia’s voice was hushed. “The Council’s made a preliminary determination,” she told them. “They aren’t going to derune him.”

Magnus stumbled back and fell into an armchair, breaths coming out shaky and relieved. That hadn’t even been his primary concern—he had been genuinely afraid that the Clave might sentence Alec to death after Maryse had stressed to him the seriousness with which the Clave took displeasing an angel. But hearing that it wouldn’t go that way lifted a massive weight from his chest.

“They just want to take that one rune,” Lydia continued. “The new one that’s tied to the illicit power.” 

A stab of pain twisted in Magnus’s heart. He had seen the unfettered joy on Alec’s face at actually being able to fly with his wings. It was so rare that he saw his boyfriend experience that type of unadulterated happiness. Thinking about it being taken away broke his heart. 

“I don’t like it, but if it allows him to keep his position…” he said hesitantly.

He knew Alec would care more about retaining the Institute than he would about his own personal happiness. 

“That’s what Alec said, when I snuck away to see him,” Lydia confirmed.

“How was he?” Isabelle asked.

“He’s okay, they haven’t been hurting him,” Lydia said, and Magnus’s worry was marginally assuaged. “But otherwise, he’s not doing so well, because there’s… there’s bad news as well.”

“Bad news?” Jace said tightly.

“They aren’t punishing him harshly because they want to go after Magnus instead.” 

Jace’s muttered fucking assholes was loud in the silence that descended over them. For his part, the brief swoop of instinctive fear in Magnus’s stomach was swiftly replaced by anger, and then remorse. “I knew I should have turned myself in first.”

“No,” said everyone simultaneously.

“Apparently, Alec offered them everything he could think of, but they wouldn’t bite,” said Lydia. “I guess Inquisitor Herondale decided he was of value to her somehow.”

“He won’t be of much value if she does something to Magnus,” Jace hissed. 

“So long as she doesn’t do something to Magnus, and just threatens, she can hold Magnus’s safety over Alec’s head,” Lydia countered, voice flat. “Don’t underestimate her manipulation.”

“Perhaps our little stunt did more harm than good,” Magnus said, morosely. It had been their only option at the time, as caving to the Clave’s demands wasn’t possible, but, once again, he couldn’t help but feel he’d contributed to harming Alec.

“Well, it cheered Alec up, so that’s something,” said Lydia. 

“Is there a way I can speak to him?” Magnus asked.

“Not without risking both of your safety, I don’t think,” Lydia said, apologetic. “As it is, I can only sneak in to talk to him because everyone in Idris thinks we hate each other after what happened at the wedding, so nobody looks twice. I can try to pass along a message, though.”

“Please.” Magnus cleared his throat, trying to find the right words to steady his boyfriend without worrying him further. Alec could find a way to worry about anything. “Tell him that…” 

He thought back to that morning, right before everything had gone wrong. 

The golden light streaming in the windows, and Alec sat up in bed beside him, wings draped over his shoulders like the most regal of capes. His trust as he let Magnus foolishly experiment with his magic; the glow as their magics—one hidden, one impossible to hide, both ancient—connected. 

The reckless euphoria of Alec leaping off the balcony wall, confident that his wings would catch him, and his tumble back down to Magnus, sun-drenched and thrumming with light, the sweeping kiss he had pulled Magnus into. The cat’s eye pendant always hanging over his sternum.

When would everyone stop clipping Alec’s wings and instead let him fly?

“Please tell him that whatever his instincts tell him to do, it is the right choice and I will stand by him,” Magnus said. “And I love him.”

Lydia was quiet. Then— “I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you this yet, but you should look in the bottom drawer of Alec’s desk.”

Magnus could pretty much guess what Alec had stowed away there, but it still made his throat close up.

“Please keep us updated, Lydia,” he said, and she assented.

~~

It was strange to be in Alec’s office without Alec. Not that Magnus hadn’t been before, when he’d gone there waiting for him, or fetching something for his boyfriend. But wandering into the austere old room, stepping on the flagstones and stopping by Alec’s desk, laying a hand on the oak tabletop, knowing where Alec was now—

Magnus held the feather pendant in his hand. Part of him wanted to throw it as far away from him as possible. The other part wanted to hold it tight enough to break and let his hands go bloody before he let it go.

The massive stained-glass window cast fragments of colored light over him as Magnus sat down at Alec’s desk. He looked up at the face of the angel depicted there. 

Saint Michael slaying a demon. Magnus recognized the depiction from more than one piece of renaissance art. If Alec were here Magnus might joke that he was present for the creation of the original painting by Raphael. As it was, Magnus merely stared up at it, the angel’s serene face looking down over him, weapon clasped in his hand, twisted demon pressed underfoot.

Magnus had always looked at the depiction in a different light than he assumed the Shadowhunters did. The Shadowhunters saw justice, the inevitable triumph of good over evil. Magnus saw the easy substitution of someone like himself for the demon being pressed into the ground. It was even humanoid, that demon, in some depictions, its manlike face ground into the dirt.

He wondered if Alec had started seeing it differently, at any point, saw it as no longer a figure of justice at his back, but a figure of persecution looming over his shoulder. 

Magnus shook himself, turning away from the glass angel. He opened the bottom drawer of Alec’s desk, shuffling through some papers until he found what he knew already he would find. 

A ring box, nestled carefully there, waiting for the day when Alec’s precious bill would be passed, when they’d finally be able to have what they both already knew that they wanted. It wouldn’t happen now—not the bill, anyway. Not for years, if not decades. All their progress, wiped to nothing. 

Magnus held the box in trembling hands. He wasn’t sure if he should open it. Shouldn’t Alec have the right to give it to him?

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He slipped down to the floor, leaning back against the wide leg of Alec’s desk, knees pulled up to his chest. He just— he wanted things to be easy, for once. He wanted them to be together, simply, without strife—for once. He wanted to come home to his husband every night and not have their careers, their lives, constantly in jeopardy. 

Mostly, he wanted Alec back.

There was a knock on the door, and Isabelle slipped in. “Magnus?”

Magnus sniffled. “I’m moping over here.”

She sat down beside him, leaning against the desk. “This is all such a mess. I can’t believe how quickly everything got screwed up.”

“It’s my fault, I couldn’t leave well enough alone,” said Magnus. He showed her the feather pendant. “Sentimentality.”

“The Clave would have found an excuse either way, I bet,” said Izzy, laying her hand on his wrist in comfort. “They always find a way. It’s not on you, Magnus.”

Magnus wished he could believe that.

“Is it a ring he had in there?” Izzy asked, gesturing to the drawer and then to Magnus’s closed grip. “That’s what I figured when Lydia said.”

“Yes.” Magnus showed her the box. “I haven’t opened it. I wanted him to give it to me.” He found tears tickling his eyes again, and swiped at them with the back of his hand. 

“You guys have talked about it before, right?” Izzy asked. “I didn’t think it would be a surprise.”

“We have,” Magnus admitted. He squeezed the ring box. “But I’m finding the physical reality of it a bit difficult to cope with, considering my would-be fiancé isn’t here to participate.”

“He will be,” Izzy said, with less confidence than Magnus would have liked to hear. “It’ll be okay, Magnus.”

Magnus nodded, mostly to convince himself. “No one’s ever wanted to marry me before, you know,” he admitted. “Just Alec.” 

Izzy laid her head on his shoulder. 

They sat together for a while, the sun slowly going down through the stained-glass windows, silence and dust motes hanging between them. Finally, Izzy asked, “Not to make things worse, but… what are you going to do? The Clave is going to be after you. Obviously, none of us is going to turn you in, but not all Institutes will behave the same.”

“I don’t know.” Magnus could run, he knew he could. He knew he could escape, wait until they no longer cared. He certainly had longer than the Shadowhunters currently in power did. 

But he didn’t want to run from this life. He didn’t want to bounce in and out of New York, meeting Alec only in secret. They had worked too hard to have their relationship become clandestine now. 

“I don’t know,” he said again, turning the ring box over and over in his hands. “Not yet.”

~~

In the hours before the council meeting, Alec debated ways he could save Magnus from Clave persecution. Or, at least, sow doubt in the minds of the Clave leadership.

I manipulated him into experimenting with the magic. No, that would break the Downworld’s trust in him and his initiatives. Not to mention it would make Magnus look weak and undermine his position.

He didn’t know what he was doing. True, but not enough for the Clave.

A Downworlder shouldn’t be beholden to the angels’ wishes. Also true, but the Clave had never balked at imposing their views on others.

No, there was no way around it. As Alec well knew, the Clave didn’t care about truth. Or fairness. If they wanted to punish Magnus, they would, no matter what Alec said.

Nonetheless, he kept thinking, trying to find anything, as he followed the guard up to the council chamber. His hands weren’t bound, but Alec didn’t bother trying to run. He wouldn’t get very far in the Gard.

The council chamber was one massive circle, like a coliseum, designated seats rising in rings around a central dais. It was classic Idris décor—dark wood paneling and stone walls, stained-glass murals set high near the ceiling—dark, now, as it was night in Alicante’s time zone. 

The Gard was a medieval building—Alec didn’t know how old, exactly—and it was always cold, the heavy stone looming above his head. For the first time, Alec recognized how intimidating it was to be dwarfed by this ancient, violent history. He walked to the center of the room where Imogen Herondale already stood, Inquisitor’s robes sweeping the floor, and stopped before her.

“Lightwood,” she observed, like she hadn’t organized the whole thing. Dieudonné was sitting a few rows above her in the chamber, but seemed to be leaving this to her. The role of Inquisitor, punisher and upholder of the law, suited Imogen, Alec thought. She took to the rigidity of it like a hellhound to angel blood. “It pains me to say, but I am not entirely surprised we’ve found ourselves here.”

Alec clasped his hands behind his back in automatic parade rest. “Unfortunately, neither am I. I think in divorce proceedings they’d call it ‘irreconcilable differences.’” 

It wasn’t what Alec should have been focusing on in that moment, but he couldn’t help but think that Magnus would have enjoyed that quip. 

“Ha ha ha. Perhaps you don’t take this seriously, but I do. We do.” She gestured to the chamber, which was about half-full of council members. “Kneel.”

Alec considered defying, but decided he’d rather, as Dieudonné had so astutely suggested, pick other battles. He knelt on the cold stone. 

“Alexander Lightwood.” The Inquisitor’s voice was formal and emotionless now, projected to reach every corner of the chamber. “To right the wrong perpetrated on our people and our faith, do you apologize for your role in offending the angel Pyriel, and consent to the removal of this illegal rune from your person?”

Consent. Strange way of framing it when Alec’s other choices were be deruned entirely or try to fight his way out of the council chamber and probably be killed in the process. The injustice of it didn’t hit him, though. He was too caught up in his own thoughts, trying to make sense of everything that had transpired. 

“Didn’t you ever wonder why the power was taken away?” he asked, quietly.

Herondale looked at him sharply, irritated with him for stalling the proceedings. “What?”

“Why would the angels take away half our power? It makes us much less effective at fighting demons—at fulfilling their goal. So, why?”

“The angels’ will is not for us to question,” Imogen said sternly. “It is for us to obey.”

“That’s what I thought, too,” Alec admitted. “But I can’t stop thinking why. Why. They gave us the power in the first place. Why take it away?” He’d been mulling it over. 

“For disobeying their will, Lightwood,” snapped Imogen.

Alec thought of his own disobedience, how it was rooted in the angels’—and the Clave’s—ruthlessness, their lack of compassion, their bigotry. He’d been assuming that now, today, was as far as the Clave had come in its progress, little though that was—but that was a foolish assumption. There was nothing to suggest the Shadowhunters of old couldn’t have been far better than their successors—kinder, less like their angel.

If Alec had been a Shadowhunter one thousand years ago, in love with a warlock one thousand years ago, with the powers he’d been gifted—and if the angels were directing violent rampages upon the earth, slaying demon-blooded creatures, like he had read about in that grim tome, The Duty of Angels—

—what would he have done?

“Disobeying their will,” he repeated, quietly. Then, louder, “What makes you think they’re right?” 

Imogen stared at him. “They are angels.”

“So? Angels are powerful. Doesn’t mean they’re all-powerful. Or all-knowing. Hell, the fact that fallen angels exist suggests they’re corruptible, too.”

Scattered gasps echoed around the chamber. Alec recognized that he was digging his own grave, but he couldn’t stop.

“If we don’t even bother to stop and think about whether what we’re doing is right—think about it instead of just following orders—then we don’t deserve to be doing it at all.”

Imogen gave him a look simultaneously dangerous and pleading. The pleading part said stop now before I have to punish you further. “These are blasphemous words, Alec.”

Alec was no longer interested in being her tool. Or any of theirs. He was no longer interested in being pushed around by people—by angels—who were more invested in maintaining their own power and self-righteousness than in serving justice. “Then I dare that angel to come back down here and smite me. If he thinks my husband deserves to die for what he is then he can come say so to my face and I’ll let him know exactly how I feel about it.”

He realized belatedly that he’d said husband, again, even though he and Magnus were not officially married. It didn’t matter, though. Magnus was his life partner either way, a ring didn’t change that.

Imogen smacked him in the jaw with the flat of her seraph blade, sending him falling backward. Whatever they’d given him earlier was still running through his system, making his muscles weak and shaky, his runes distant. Alec didn’t care, though. He wanted Imogen to look him dead in the eyes and understand what she was doing, whose will she was following.

“That is enough,” she ground out. 

Alec grinned viciously up at her, blood in his teeth. “The angels took our ancestors’ powers away because they stood up to them, did you figure that out? They couldn’t stand to be challenged. Doesn’t that sound familiar.”

Imogen’s smile was more a baring of teeth. “Well, Mr. Lightwood, it is as they say. We were made in His image.”

Silent Brothers were supposed to perform derunings, but Imogen had apparently decided she would do it herself. She snatched up the long, adamas-tipped staff leaning against her podium and pressed it to the rune over his heart. 

Alec wondered if this would actually work. He thought there was a decent chance Magnus’s magic would be strong enough to repel it. Or that the ancient magic, once returned, would need an angel’s touch to be taken away.

He braced himself.

“You will lose this forbidden mark of powers long past,” Imogen declared, dragging the adamas point of the staff along the winding, curling flight rune. Alec’s jaw clenched, neck muscles spasming as hot pain flared along the mark and up through his chest and shoulders. “And then we will get back to our work of bringing evil to its knees.”

Alec could read the words between her words. “You’ve wanted Magnus for a long time, haven’t you?” he ground out. “Why? Because you can’t stand the idea of someone with demonic magic being so powerful and widely respected? Hurts the Clave’s image if someone else has authority?”

She pressed down harder with the tip of her staff, and Alec tried not to yell. The pain didn’t let up, though, and he wondered—was the rune disappearing at all?

“Do you think you’ll catch him?” he taunted. “Do you think you can? Do you think the entire Downworld won’t conspire against you? Nobody will help you punish him. I certainly won’t. You might as well take all my runes because I’ll leave the Clave entirely before I turn him over to you.”

Imogen narrowed her eyes. “You don’t get to decide when you’re done with the Clave, Lightwood. We made you. We own you.” 

“Not anymore. I’m done being owned.”

The burning on Alec’s chest disappeared abruptly, and Imogen wrenched the staff away with a frustrated snarl. Alec looked down at his chest and found the flight rune still there, glowing but gradually fading back to black. His wings flared behind him, brushing against the stone floor, tensing then releasing. 

“The angel doesn’t control everything,” Alec mused, more to himself than anything, lightly touching the rune. The skin was hot, but unblemished.

It’s ancient magic, he thought Magnus would say. Who’s to say what it can do?

The Inquisitor seemed at a loss, staring down at him, staff heavy in her hand. A brute force exertion of control hadn’t worked. Alec wondered what else she would try.

To his surprise, she dropped to her knees, staff between her hands, eyes closed and forehead tipped forward in prayer. Alec pushed himself up onto his elbows to watch.

“Angels, we kneel here as your loyal servants. We strive to do your work on this plane. Angels, send your servants guidance. Show us how to fulfill your wishes. Show us how to repent and clear our wrongdoing.”

Alec recognized many common elements of the prayer. He could hear a handful of council members in the chamber following along. 

Imogen finished, “Angels, hear us. Angels, make your wishes known.”

Generally speaking, such prayers would not actually be answered by an angel. Angels almost never came to earth, after all. But it was not unheard of for a supplicant to receive a sign in another way. A message in a book, a word from a loved one. Alec was never clear on whether these signs were truly sent by angels, or wishful interpretations by their recipients.

Everyone felt differently, now that Pyriel had shown himself.

Alec waited, heart beating, for the angel to appear. He wondered if he should run, escape while he still could. He’d basically told the angels and heaven to go to hell and he doubted that would go over very well, considering what had happened to the last batch of Nephilim who’d tried it.

But, no. If he believed it, he should stand by it.

They waited. The council chamber was silent but for the occasional stuttered breath or murmured prayer. Alec started to think the angel wouldn’t appear at all—who were they to think they could summon angels, anyway?

Then the lights flickered out. A jagged, burning line crawled its way across the floor, inscribing a hole which dropped away into a gleaming rift—like the one Magnus had described in Rockefeller Center. What crawled out was not a humanoid angel figure, but the Beast, now more directly resembling Magnus’s recollections, and—

—yes, it was how Magnus described it, which was to say, beyond description.

It lumbered forward. Alec’s brain tried to make sense of it, but he could not—there were too many flashing and morphing body parts; it seemed to be made of every creature at once. Its eyes were points of absolute black, and they leveled on him, then on Imogen.

Imogen swallowed hard but straightened her spine where she was still kneeling. “Holy Messenger. We bow in gratitude for the grace of your presence.”

The Beast made a wet huffing sound. Alec wondered at the degree to which it defied heaven’s pure reputation. 

He felt its presence at the corner of his mind, like it was about to speak—

The electric tickle of magic touched his neck, and then a dismayingly familiar portal opened beside him. 

Magnus stepped out, clothes ruffled in the wind. He hadn’t changed since Alec had last seen him, still in his loose slacks and tunic from that morning, what felt like so long ago now. His face was set in determination.

“Magnus,” Alec hissed. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Something incredibly foolish, as per usual, Alexander.” Magnus looked him over. “Are you okay?”

“No.” Panic was already beating in Alec’s chest at Magnus’s appearance. “You need to get out of here.”

“Not likely. I felt the change in power as this… Beast came back onto our plane. We stand together, or not at all.”

Alec managed to pull himself to standing. His wings felt heavy, his power flighty and sharp after the attempted deruning, but he moved to stand by Magnus. He worried the guards would run to arrest Magnus, but everyone seemed petrified by the Beast.

Magnus Bane, snarled the Beast, inside their heads. Alec wasn’t certain if it was Pyriel speaking through it, or if the Beast had some level of its own consciousness. Son of an original sinner. You are bold.

“Yep, that’s me!” Magnus agreed with false cheer. “Bold and tired of your shit.”

You were warned, said the Beast/angel. You will face the punishment you are due.

Its power coalesced in a swirling black cloud, but Alec threw out a wing and stopped it before it could touch Magnus. Magnus stumbled back a step, startled, and the smoky power brushed Alec’s wing, sending off sparks where it hit. “Don’t touch him,” Alec said.

You would side with him? said the Beast, though Alec was pretty sure it was Pyriel speaking now, Over your angel?

“I’d side with Magnus against anything,” Alec said, “but it’s hardly a difficult choice now, when you’ve made your feelings on him and other Downworlders clear.”

“Lightwood,” scolded Imogen, but Alec ignored her. 

Demonic creatures are unnatural and a threat to this world, said the angel. It is not personal.

“Ahem, it’s personal to me,” said Magnus. 

“When was the last time you were even on earth?” Alec demanded of the angel. “How would you know if demonic creatures are a threat or not?”

They were formed by a revolt against heaven—

“Those were angels, actually, that did that,” Magnus pointed out.

DO NOT INTERRUPT, thundered the angel, light exploding around its edges, but Magnus seemed to have gotten over his fear of it, and didn’t flinch. Heaven has a long memory, continued the angel. It remembers the rebellion. 

“Evidently,” said Alec. “You took the original Shadowhunters’ power away because they went against your violent decrees, didn’t you?”

They knew what was coming to them.

“Is that what’s coming to me?” Alec challenged. “Or are you just going to kill me?”

Angels do not kill their Nephilim, said Pyriel. But you cannot continue on this path and call yourself one of ours.

“Then I’m not one of yours, anymore,” Alec said, heart pounding. It was hard to say those words and not feel that he would burst into flames on the spot. But he didn’t—nothing changed, except the sense of resignation emanating from the angel. “I’ll continue your mission—the one that involves killing demons, actual threats to the world. But I won’t just fall in line with everything you say.”

You are not the first, said Pyriel. Know that walking away cannot be taken back.

Alec was of the opinion that nothing in life could ever be truly taken back. You couldn’t rewrite it, as he’d learned over and over. But he understood what the angel was saying: Do you really want to change your relationship to your faith permanently?

“If you aren’t going to change your position,” he said, trying to maintain his resolve, “then I have no choice.”

He expected the angel to derune him, or cast him out of Alicante. He expected it to smite him the way it must have smote those rebellious Nephilim hundreds of years ago. Instead, it reached an amorphous finger through the space between them, and touched him on the forehead.

A jolt ran through him. His wings fluttered; all of his runes flared to life and then faded again. Alec shivered, and Magnus took his hand, squeezing hard. 

The runes didn’t disappear, but as the angel retracted its hand, a soul-deep pang resounded in Alec’s body, like the ringing of a heavy bell. He dropped to his knees, breath rushing out of him in a gust. He heard Magnus call his name, but it was as if through a thick haze; he couldn’t hear anything over the echo of loss that shimmered down in his soul.

You have chosen, said the angel, and then it vanished. 

“Alec,” Magnus said, and Alec could finally hear him. “Alexander.”

“I’m okay,” Alec wheezed. And, he was, physically. The angel hadn’t hurt him.

But it had disconnected him from something. Something he hadn’t realized had been such a significant part of his being until it was gone.

Above him, Magnus looked around at the council members. Alec imagined that the look on his face was one of a dare—do you still want to punish him? Just try it.

“The angel has spoken,” said Imogen, sounding unnerved. Alec expected her to push the issue and insist they kept to their prior punishment—of both himself and Magnus—but instead she said, “The Inquisitor’s office will consider this matter closed.”

When Alec finally stood, the look Imogen gave him was one of pity, of all things. Alec supposed that being excommunicated from his religion was more of a punishment in her eyes than anything the Clave could dream up—despite Alec having chosen it. 

“Are you going to push him out of the Institute?” Magnus asked tersely.

“The angel has spoken,” Imogen repeated, casting a warning look at the both of them. “No further action will be taken at this time.”

Her look said, take the out you’ve been given. Again, Alec wondered about her, and the younger person she’d once been.

Magnus took his hand again and squeezed, and Alec could tell that he was itching to get out of there, not wanting to give the Council a second to change their minds. But before they left, Alec looked around and said—

“I wouldn’t ask any of you to do that. It… was kind of awful, to be honest. But I would ask that you consider whether your choices are following your own conscience, or someone else’s.”

He got a few murmurs and shifts in response, but nobody spoke. Alec hoped they’d gotten something to think about from the whole ordeal, at least.

Then, still shaken and struggling to internalize everything that had happened, he let Magnus take him home. 

#Flight fic #my writing

[biasedwriting]

Kaleidoscope of Our Summer ||5||

Masterlist

The next evening Minah found herself staring at the gate next to the boarding house with Taekwoon’s freshly laundered hoodie in hand wondering how to go about handing it back to him. Technically, it was a fairly simple task - ring the bell and ask for a Jung Taekwoon and hand the jacket over to him. So very simple.

But there was a catch, as there always was when Kang Jieun was involved. 

Minah found herself cursing her childhood friend who had spent most of the evening smirking at her as Minah opened the washing machine door with the borrowed clothes in hand. Jieun had moved to Seoul just a few months back from their hometown, having received a job in a media company. 

Minah shuddered at the memory of the interrogation session that took place with Jieun seated on the dryer, a cup of coffee in her hands as she swung her legs looking rather smug.

“Do I want to know what happened?” she asked, taking a sip of the bitter drink, watching her friend carefully measure out the laundry detergent. Jieun had been bogged down with a month-long project when she saw her friend stumbling out of a car from her window. Moments later, Minah had trudged up the stairs in clothes she hadn’t worn on the way out. 

“I was tossed in the pool,” Minah replied, now donning pyjamas and sorting out the clothes before tossing them in. 

Jieun continued to stare at her friend dialling the setting on the washing machine, demanding details. 

“Han Sanghyuk thought it would be a great idea.”

“I will maim him if and when I meet him. Plus, that doesn’t explain the ride back home,” Jieun grinned, watching her friend freeze while she tapped out a beat on the metal top of the dryer “don’t think I didn’t notice! Spill everything that happened.”

“Hyogi’s friend is our neighbour, he helped me out of the water and drove me back,” Minah shrugged “the hoodie is his,” trying to seem as non-committal as possible making Jieun raise her eyebrows as a devious smile spread across her lips. 

“Did you thank him?”

“My mama didn’t raise an impolite child!” Minah huffed, crossing her arms “of course I did! He asked me to thank him over a cup of coffee!”

Jieun’s eyes rounded, “That smooth fucker asked you out on a date!” she jumped off the dryer with a grin that would put the Cheshire Cat to shame while Minah shook her head indignantly, grabbing her friend’s hand, Jiuen hissed “I swear I will not let you sleep till you tell me everything!” 

A few days later, after summoning her courage (and ignoring the consistent teasing from Jieun), Minah stood in front of the gate adjacent to their boarding house under strict instructions from Jieun to ask Taekwoon to come to the boarding house for coffee (“just tell him you are a broke college student and making coffee at the boarding house would be so much more economical!”)

The sky was clear, but she could smell the second spell of summer rain coming. The forecast notification in the morning confirmed this. She had gone to University armed with an umbrella but now found herself foolishly swinging it back and forth while clutching a bag with Taekwoon’s hoodie carefully folded in it, deciding whether to ring the bell. 

She suddenly found herself wondering how Miya’s “tea with the cutie” had gone. The youngest had messaged telling them that she had asked the “giver of flowers” (as Ara had dubbed him) to have a cup of tea with her and hadn’t messaged in a good two hours other than a “not kidnapped, don’t worry!”. Shaking her wandering thoughts away, she looked back at the gate hesitantly.

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to ask Taekwoon to coffee right away, she decided, turning away from his house. Just then, the gate swung open and she found herself face to face with the man she was supposed to be talking to. Zipping his black jacket up, he looked up at her with a soft “oh?"  

Panicking, Minah whirled back towards the tall man, fumbling over her words. “I had just come to return your hoodie and invite you over for coffee...uhm...you know, broke university student things.” Minah let out an awkward laugh, “if you aren’t busy that is!” she added as an afterthought. Feeling Taekwoon’s gaze on her, she dropped her own gaze to her feet before mumbling “I make decent coffee, I won’t poison you, promise.”

“Ah, I know you won’t,” Taekwoon recovered quickly, stepping past the gate “I was just heading out to the convenience store, but I could go there after a cup of coffee.” He replied watching her eyes light up as she bobbed her head.

“Great! That reminded me I need to head to the convenience store as well,” she mumbled absentmindedly. “...should we…?” she tilted her chin towards the boarding house indicating for him to follow her. 

Suppressing an amused smile, Taekwoon found himself passing the little wooden fence of the house, shoes squishing in the over-watered lawn that he had more than once found some drunk students lying on, and into the narrow corridor that acted as an entry-way. Shucking his now damp shoes off, Taekwoon reached over to relieve Minah of the bag with his hoodie in it, allowing her to take her own shoes off.

“Thank you,” she smiled before pursing her lips at the messy shoes and socks piling up on the landing of the entrance. The cupboard set aside for shoes was overflowing with footwear of different kinds and some smelly socks. “Sorry about the mess, it's better upstairs, but the land-lady insists we take our shoes off here and carry it up. I really hope you don’t mind,” she sighed, biting her lip.

Taekwoon’s shoes were already hooked to his index and middle fingers and his feet slipped into the guest indoor footwear “no, I completely understand, I had some...similar experiences while I was enlisted… we had some very particular seniors.” 

Minah visibly relaxed. Hopping up the stairs, she smiled back at him  “I’d like to hear about that, but please, come in!” Jieun’s words about this possibly being a date made Minah nervous. She was awkward around strangers but she really owed Taekwoon one and he genuinely felt like a decent guy.  Dialling in the security code for the top floor, Minah ushered him in and directed him to the couch in the common area.

The taller dropped his shoes off on the tiny rack by the door and sauntered over to the sofa watching the girl putter around, quickly keeping her things back in place. All through this, she managed to determine what kind of coffee he liked, if he was comfortable and if there was any kind of sandwich he liked in specific. The couch afforded him a good view into the kitchenette equipped with a stove, and a few appliances. Yet he found himself leaning against the door frame watching her hands move swiftly while inhaling the fragrant scent of freshly brewed coffee. 

“Would you like to sit out on the balcony? It’s awfully stuffy in here thanks to the humidity. The land-lady has made us a nice set-up there for guests.” Minah asked, noticing the pile of clean laundry waiting to be folded casually hidden behind the couch. She'd completely forgotten about that the day before and now she was trying to avoid any peeks at her undergarments.

"That sounds nice," Taekwoon replied, taking the tray of coffee from her as she squawked, shaking her head as she tried to retrieve it from him. "You can bring the sandwiches," he nodded at the warm pieces of bread with gooey cheese oozing from the cut edges. Minah bit her lip and followed him out.

The breeze before the coming rain had Taekwoon pulling his jacket closer as he settled in the almost café-like seating on the balcony of the boarding house. He had to admire his neighbour's tasteful choice in making this space for guests. Taking a sip of the warm coffee, felt the gentle flavour coat his tongue as the buzz of caffeine surged through his body.

"This is really good," he mumbled, taking another deep sip.

Minah took a bite of her cheese sandwich and smiled back at him and suddenly Taekwoon's cheeks felt a little warm at her gaze.

They weren't sure who started the conversation. While it had its initial awkward moments, it slowly but surely began to flow. Their cups empty, their bellies warm, the trip to the convenience store forgotten as the rain slowly came pattering down. 

The balcony door slid open, breaking their little bubble as Jieun popped her head in with "Minah, you have a call coming in from Sanghyuk," and a very smug smirk on her face as she introduced herself to Taekwoon.

“Ah, Jieun, do you think you could tell him I’ll call him back and come and join us?” Minah turned to her friend with a frown suggesting that she wipe the smug look off her face. Jieun lifted the phone to her ear and answered while turning away from the two.

“Hi, this is Sanghyuk right?”

A rumbling voice responded on the other end, husky with sleep. Jieun assumed that he had just woken up from a nap. “Uh, yes...Minah?” he sounded confused, making her chuckle. Perhaps maiming him for nearly drowning her friend could wait for another day.

 “No, sorry, it's Jieun. Minah is a little busy and can’t pick up the phone, can I take a message?”

She heard him tumble off his bed and frowned as he fumbled with his phone. After a few seconds of silence, she heard him mumble “fuck, please don’t maim me please don’t maim me” which made her burst out into laughter.

“Is that the message Mr Han Sanghyuk? What have you done to attract the ire of my friend?”

“Absolutely nothing!” he quickly denied “I was calling to let her know that I’d gotten news that the inter-department fest theme was being changed and we were supposed to put up a stall together…”

“Alright, I’ll ask her to call you back on that. But more importantly, who shouldn’t maim you?” Jieun bit her lip to prevent herself from laughing again. 

“I was going to ask if I could drop by, actually. But, I just realized that it’s raining.” Sanghyuk continued, blatantly ignoring her question. He refused to admit that Minah had scared the crap out of him with what Jieun was capable of. 

Apparently, it's stuff that “can’t be mentioned” plus Minah had said that Jieun promised to maim him if they ever met and he really didn’t want to die so soon. But her laugh sounded so pleasant over the phone that Sanghyuk was certain, even in his half-asleep state, he was experiencing what one would call whiplash.

“On any other day I’d have asked you to come over,” Jieun said, peeking at the pair sitting in the balcony in peaceful silence “but I think your friend is currently on a date with your Hyung.”

There was a silence that followed as Sanghyuk processed the information that had been passed to him.

“Wait...what? Who? Which Hyung?!”

Jieun eyed the time on Minah’s phone, noting that the conversation had gone on for a little too long for it to be a “Minah will call you later” moment.

“I think you should ask her for yourself because if she notices that we’ve been speaking for over ten minutes, she will get suspicious.”

Sanghyuk looked at his own screen and cursed.

“Fuck, sorry, I need to know now. Is it Hakyeon Hyung? Suddenly? Hongbin Hyung? JAEHWAN HYUNG?”

Jieun flinched and replied with a negative and Sanghyuk sighed.

” You know what? Give me your number and text me the details.” 

Jieun blinked at the excitement, finding herself getting swept up in it as well as she slowly gave him her number hearing her own phone vibrate with a barrage of messages on the table.

“Okay, I sent you a message! I need all the tea,” Sanghyuk chirped on the other end of the line.

“How are you so certain I will give you any details and not maim you?” Jieun replied casually as the other end of the line fell silent and a soft curse was heard as she laughed.

The two seated outside were completely unaware of the developments indoors.

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

Previous|| Next

#vixx #exo #bts #kpop #kpopfanfic #leo #kpop fanfiction #taekwoon #ravi #hyuk #wonshik #sanghyuk #jungkook #kyungsoo #kaleidoscopeofoursummer

[salemminagrey]

The Holy Book.

Written by:

Spiritual Leader

Salem Mina Grey

Introduction:

Hello dear reader,

I am Salem.

I am 30 years and 130 days old,

on this day, January 6th, in the year 2024.

I write these words

after a lifetime of meditation and study

of all religions, philosophies, and sciences.

I have found that none of them are perfect.

All religions and philosophies are fallible.

All religious groups are corrupted by lies.

I have decided

to write this

holy book

in an attempt

to create an infallible and holy religion.

I do not claim to know everything.

I am human and thus I am capable of being wrong or making a mistake.

I simply wish to share with you all my view of this world and everything I have learned.

This is my first attempt at writing a book.

I hope you enjoy reading my thoughts.

I have spent many years

writing small statements,

sharing my thoughts

on social media,

writing down notes,

and making drawings,

but never before have I written a book.

I will do my best to keep it organized,

and to express my thoughts

in a clear and understandable way.

With this book it is my desire to teach you all as much truth as possible about Earth, Humanity, and our purpose here.

I am sure you will at least find this interesting and perhaps even accept it as an accurate philosophy about existence.

I will now attempt to explain,

everything.

Chapter One:

Reality.

In the begining of all existence

there was nothing,

an endless expanse of nothingness.

Then

at the beginning of all time

The Deity,

The One Above All, was born.

The first universe to ever exist

was

Nothing

the Deity was born and Made

Everything

It was Chaotic.

First the particles joined together

Then stars were born

Then they died

The cosmos became full

of the deities creations

until one day

they made life

it started as microscopic life

then they sent it to earth

on a meteorite

and in the primordial soup

all manner of creatures formed

a meteor struck again

most of the dinosaurs died

evolution took its path again

on Pangaia

the land known as Nibiru

another meteor struck

the continents separated

the air and the water

went away from the impact

and came back

as a monsoon and tidal waves

flooding the entire world

the surviving creatures clung to debris and landed on all of the various continents

the ancestors of humans

landed in Africa

then the spread of humanity

and human history

until now

the modern age

where

in the past 20 years

humanity became overpopulated

growing from 1+m to 10+b

in less than two decades

causing global warming

and failing to even try to fix it

suffering a deadly plague

heading directly into famine

foolishly causing world war 3

and causing the unstoppable

total extinction of humanity.

If every continent were covered in plants and every country worked hard to clean the air and sea then humanity might have a chance.

But they refuse to do anything.

While continuing to pollute the air and sea on a daily basis killing everyone in the world for the sake of making more money so they can pay slave wages charge the maximum legal rent and live in 5 star gated community apartments.

There is no benevolence.

Every church and temple is a scam that demands you give them your hard earned wages for false redemption.

The law and the government are designed to force you to comform while taking as much money away from you as possible without upsetting the ethics and human rights lawyers.

You are born a slave, you are forced to conform to the rules or you are punished, you are forced to learn about many things that you just forget because you don’t care about the information, it is not helpful to you at all, so you learn and forget everything they force you to study, they give you electives, directing you towards a career while creating the illusion of free will.

You are only educated so you can meet the bare minimum criteria for employment.

By the time you graduate you are in debt because they force you to pay for lunch.

More debt to go to college.

More debt to start a business.

More debt to get a studio apartment.

Debt for a McDonald’s Uniform because you got a degree in a field nobody is hiring anyone for anymore because of machine and AI automation.

You struggle for years to pay it all off.

Life is not worth the cost of living.

The struggle continues.

Sunrise and then sunset.

You age and then you die.

So how do you get to heaven?

Chapter 2:

The unseen.

You died.

Now you are a ghost.

The Deity Has created a Hierarchy to manage this aspect of existence:

Deity

Deities

Gods & Goddesses

Angels

Cherubs

Paladins

Clerics

Holy Spirits

Good Spirits

Nice Spirits

Neutral Spirits

Naughty Spirits

Bad Spirits

Evil Spirits

Anti Clerics

Anti Paladins

Imps

Demons

Gods & Goddesses

Deities

Deity

As a ghost you may enjoy

doing such things as:

watching humans do stuff

thinking about all you did wrong

wondering when you can go to heaven

watching evil spirits get dragged down to the underworld

watching holy spirits fly up into the heavens

wandering around to many places

being trapped in a building

repeating traumatic past mistakes

shapeshiting

posessing dead bodies

knocking over glasses

opening and closing cabinets

messing with radios, TVs, and lights.

Valhalla

Tea parties

STD free ghost sex

And reincarnation.

The after life, the spirit world, the unseen, whatever name you call it,

Is a dimension inhabited by the souls of all animals, plants, and living things.

Many souls are dragged down into the core of the planet.

Some enlightened souls rise up into the sky.

Most reincarnate.

Some wander in the here after forever.

It is not that bad.

For those who are hateful

They are treated hatefully

For those who are violent

They are treated violently

For those who are murderers

They are treated murderously

For those that are Violators

They are treated Violatingly

Your sins in life

are punished in the spirit world

until you repent and atone.

Those that do not repent and atone for their sins are dragged down and thrown into the fire in the core of the earth.

By the way,

You are allowed to wear

whatever clothes you want to wear

you are allowed to identify as

whatever you want to identify as

you are allowed to love

whoever you want to love

and

as an adult you may have sex

with any adult who willingly consents.

The only sins in life are:

Hatred, Violence, Murder, Rape, & Theft.

Do none of these things

and you shall have no enemies

for you have caused no harm.

Then, with no enemies, your eternal journey in the here after may begin, and you will find the path to enlightenment easy to walk upon on your way to The Holy City of the Divine.

The path to heaven

can only be found

by those who

regret,

repent,

and

atone,

for their

hatred,

violence,

killing,

raping,

and

stealing.

Most people are lost.

There are many who shall burn.

Now you know.

Chapter 3:

A code of conduct.

Birth.

You should:

Survive, by any means necessary.

Experience all that you can.

Learn as much as you can.

Pray to the Deity at least once per day.

Make as many friends as you can.

Be as helpful as you can,

without letting people

take advantage of you.

Give everything you do

all of your best effort

without causing yourself

any anger or pain.

Be respectful to everyone.

Speak the truth when needed.

Treat all with kindness.

Do not worry about anything you can’t control.

Walk away from conflicts.

Defend the weak when you can.

Protect women and children in distress.

Do good work without accepting more work than you can handle on your own.

Ask for help when you need it.

Theres no shame in holding a sign and a begging bowl if you have no other options, churches pass one around every sunday and waste all the money on whatever they want.

Seek out the truth always.

Never sign any contracts,

all contracts are tools of evil.

Live your life to the fullest.

Wear comfortable and functional clothes that keep you warm and dry in the cold and cool in the heat.

Clothes are only clothes,

wear whatever you like.

You may let your hair grow or cut it

it is your choice either way.

Be yourself and enjoy life.

Wake up every day thinking:

“I’m grateful to be alive today.”

Go to sleep every night thinking:

“I’m grateful I survived today.”

Drink water every day.

Eat food every day.

Clean your teeth, face, & hands often.

Clean your hair and body as needed.

Clean your clothes as needed.

Clean your butt every time you poop.

Clean your genitals often.

(I wrote this rough draft a while ago and abandoned it... free to use)

#spirituality #faith #religion #deity worship

[oldmanlogan]

yall i need inspo for my island

#i foolishly decided to clear everything away #but now i have sooo much space #and idk how to organize any of it #i wanted it to be half cottagecore half urban #but like #ugh #idk what to do #i need the mush stool diy so i can star working on the cottage core half #i need more bookcases #my life is a mess #acnh

[beyondspaceandstars]

“We Go Way Back”

Relationship: Yelena Belova x Reader Warnings: angst, attitude, possible vague Black Widow spoilers Summary: Your and Yelena's date night takes an unexpected turn when a surprise guest shows up at your shared apartment. A/N: So. I saw Black Widow on thursday....i loved SO much.......maybe even found a new comfort character..........and now here we are :) please enjoy

Masterlist

You were just finishing up dinner when two arms snaked around your waist. You giggled, staring down at the sautéed vegetables, as you leaned into your girlfriend’s touch.

"Smells good," she mumbled against your neck. Light kisses were beginning to litter your skin.

You sighed. "Thank you, love," you said, giving everything a final stir before turning off the burners. You went to start carrying items to the table, thinking your girlfriend would let up on her hold on you, but that ended up not being the case.

With a joyous laugh, you playfully scolded her, "Yelena, please," you smiled. "Do you want to eat or not?"

She hummed. Her hands drifted now to your sides and began creeping their way to your hips and thighs. "Depends on what you had in mind."

You let out a faux surprised gasp. "You’re shameless." You shook your head and peeled her hands away from you. She let out a little defeated sigh but you just shot her a playful look and continued with your initial mission of setting the dining table.

Thankfully, this time, Yelena lent a helping hand as opposed to lending her hands…elsewhere. The latter was a common occurrence, especially before date night dinners, such as ones like these. There had been one too many meals you were forced to reheat everything after you let Yelena get carried away.

After the food was placed — a nice spread of local meats, fresh produce, and bakery bread — you began working on getting plates and cutlery. Yelena had taken it upon herself to start breaking out the wine. She brought out two bottles you had just bought that morning based on the recommendation from the butcher. You maybe took cooking and dinners a bit too seriously, hoping everything was right especially when it was for your love.

You set out the cutlery just as Yelena finished pouring two (hefty) glasses of wine. You shot her a smile in thanks and began filling each of your plates. You did have to pat yourself on the back a bit, everything smelled wonderful.

Once you two had full plates and eager stomachs, you sat down and dug in. Yelena immediately let out an exaggerated moan as she practically devoured the meat. You blushed at her enthusiasm.

"This is wonderful, dear," Yelena praised and took a sip of her wine. "Very reminiscent of my momma’s cooking."

Your ears perked up at your girlfriend’s mention of her family. She did that every now and then, slip in random comments about them. You liked trying to explore it but knew the topic was a delicate one. You trod carefully.

"Yeah?" You asked, moving some vegetables around on your plate. "Did she cook a lot?"

Yelena shrugged. "We’d have dinners together, all of us, pretty much every night."

All of us. You had heard so far of a mother and a father but could there be more? Or were you reading too much into it?

Eventually, you settled on, "Family dinners sound very nice." That was enough, you thought. Just safe but still engaged. You eyed Yelena as she continued to eat. She hadn’t noticed you stalled or, well, she probably did, but wasn’t saying anything. You took large gulps of your wine, impulsively.

Just as your liquid courage was getting to you to maybe inquire further about your lover’s family, a hard knock at the front door disrupted the entire dinner. Both of your movements stopped abruptly. You looked between the door and your girlfriend.

"Were you expecting someone?" You asked.

Yelena shook her head. Her fork dropped with a loud clang as she pushed away from the table. In quick, determined strides she collected the gun kept in the side table in the living room. You watched her, quite stunned by her response. You don’t think you ever actually saw any of her guns come into action. When you first moved in, she just explained they were a precaution. You never asked what kind of precaution. You feared you were getting your answer now as Yelena walked to the entryway.

Gun drawn, pointed dead on with the wooden door, she called out, "Who is it?"

"You can put the gun down." Surprisingly, that was a female voice answering your girlfriend’s demand. Your brows furrowed in curiosity. You watched for Yelena’s reaction but she was still so stoic and intense.

Yelena scoffed. "Are you sure?"

Probably a bit foolishly, you decided to chime in. "Love," you said, "is everything okay?"

The female on the other side of the door spoke again, this time with an element of shock in her voice. "Love?"

Yelena let out a dramatic sigh as she relaxed her stance and surrendered her gun, placing it on the little table in the foyer. What seemed to be a bit reluctantly, Yelena opened the door forcefully.

Despite the mystery woman finally being revealed, it answered approximately zero of your questions. There, in the doorway, stood a redhead whose unamusing expression mixed with a slight smugness matched your girlfriend’s. The two just stared at one another, neither dared to move, as if they were challenging one another to try it.

Curiosity finally getting the best of you, you stood from the dining table and slowly made your way to the front door. Your fingers fumbled in nervousness as you stepped with caution.

"Hi, there," you said with a weak smile and gentle wave. The redhead’s eyes flicked over to you only briefly. Still, you continued, "Are you alright? Do you need something?"

"Oh, do I."

Yelena shook her head. "The only thing she needs is to leave."

You turned to your girlfriend, "Who is she?"

"Natasha," the redhead explained. "Me and your love here," she nodded towards Yelena, "we go way back."

You didn’t know how she had the air in her but Yelena let out another ridiculous sigh and stomped away. Like some defeated child, she took her seat once more at the dining table. You had never seen her like this before, so unattached and dismissive. You wracked your brain on how to mend this.

You turned back to Natasha. "Please, come in." Natasha took the offer quite well and gave you a nod of thanks before entering the apartment. You followed her into the dining room.

"We were just starting dinner," you explained as you raced for the kitchen, grabbing Natasha her own set. "Sit, have some food."

Natasha mumbled a "thanks" as you began filling her plate now with food. You even offered up some wine despite Yelena’s weird look she shot you when you reached for it. You ignored her odd behavior and took your seat once more. Somehow, the tension from the situation just got worse. Neither woman was eating now.

You cleared your throat as you prepared to dig into your meal once more. "I hope it’s still warm. If not, I can pop everything in the oven to warm."

No one said anything.

"Alright then…" You shrugged. "If I may, how exactly do you two know each other?"

That was the question that opened the flood gates. Yelena turned to you abruptly. "She’s my sister."

"Sort of," the redhead quickly retorted.

Your jaw went slack. Your appetite completely abandoned you now as your interest was greatly piqued. "Your sister?" You asked and looked between the two women. Well, they didn’t really look alike…

"Not biologically," Yelena explained. "We just kind of…lived together for a while."

"I see," you nodded. You scraped your fork against your plate, awkwardly. "If I may again, what brings you here, Natasha?"

The question certainly made Yelena perk up as she stared down her sister — or, whatever they considered each other. You resisted the urge to grab her hand under the table, unsure of what level of affection she was comfortable showing in front of this woman.

"Some business to attend to." Short and sweet. You felt these two were definitely related on some level.

"This couldn’t have waited until the morning?" Yelena gritted.

Natasha shrugged. "I guess it could’ve but then, apparently, I would’ve missed out on this lovely dinner with you and your… your, what? Girlfriend?" She took a bite of food. "Hmm, tastes close to someone else’s cooking." A shrug. "Anyways, I didn’t know you dated."

"You don’t know a lot of things."

"Okay!" You explained, trying to salvage whatever was left of this civilized conversation. Natasha and Yelena shared a look before turning to your flustered state. "We’re very happy you dropped in, right, love?" You glanced at Yelena. "And you’re more than welcome to stay, Natasha. I’m afraid all we have to offer is the couch if that would be okay."

Natasha glanced behind you at the living room before nodding. "That would be great," she smiled.

***

It wasn’t until you were standing at the kitchen sink cleaning the dishes from dinner that Yelena approached you to talk. Natasha was off getting ready for bed and your girlfriend hopped on this opportunity.

"I’m so sorry," she said as she stood beside you, taking on the role of the dryer in your little dishwasher assembly line. "I-I don’t even know where to begin. I’m sorry she dropped by, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about her—,"

"Love," you shook your head, giving her a sympathetic look, "it’s okay. I’m not really mad you didn’t tell me or that she’s here. From what I gather, it’s a complicated relationship."

Yelena let out an annoyed huff. "You have no idea." A beat. "But, still. I shouldn’t hide these things from you. She was a big part of my life and now you… you’re a big part of my life. It’s only fair."

Your heart warmed at her admission. She could be quite the affectionate one when she wanted to be. Quickly, you leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. She tried hiding her blush but failed beautifully.

"For what it’s worth, she seems very interesting," you shrugged. "I think she could be fun to get to know. Probably has a few embarrassing stories about you as a child."

Yelena gasped. "Don’t even think about it."

"Too late," you giggled, mentally marking that down as a subject for conversation. A brief silence passed over you two as you finished up with the dishes. Reaching the end of the chore, you said, "So, should I be on the lookout for any other siblings?"

Your girlfriend chuckled. "No," she admitted. "Natasha is it."

You let out a content hum in understanding. "One day we should have them all over."

"Them?"

"Yeah," you nodded, "your whole family. A nice, big family dinner. That could be exciting, right?"

Yelena rolled her eyes. Whether it was playful or not, you couldn’t quite tell. "That’s certainly one way to describe it."

#yelena belova #black widow #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova one shot #yelena belova fanfiction #yelena belova x fem reader #yelena belova fluff #yelena belova angst #mcu #mcu fic #marvel one shot #marvel fanfiction #marvel #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #wlw #fluff #angst #yelena belova drabble #yelena x you #yelena x y/n #yelena x fem!reader #avengers

[mcheang]

Marinette Enchanted

Inspired by Ella Enchanted. I thought Caline should be the fairy godmother but her sending Marinette to the ball just didn’t seem to fit.

Meet Alya, a powerful, good and unfortunately naive fairy. She just loves to grant wishes, not really thinking through the consequences.

When Marinette was born, she was crying.

Alya took no note of the parents’ protest as she immediately bestowed upon Marinette the gift of obedience, telling her to be quiet.

Immediately the squalling baby’s lips were sealed shut, unhappiness clear in her eyes.

Alya beamed as if she had done something good, for who wouldn’t want an obedient child?

If only she could see just how much Marinette suffered when Chloe made Marinette her new best friend. Aka someone to help Sabrina answer all of Chloe’s requests and assignments.

Marinette was determined to find Alya and get her to break this curse!

She happens to find Prince Adrien, running away from the castle and his admirers.

Marinette immediately shuns him. She already has to deal with one pampered and bossy noble. She does not need another!

Adrien is intrigued by Marinette, her reaction is so different from everyone else’s. Not terrified they might be imprisoned, not batting their lashes. No, Marinette just looked annoyed and exasperated. How refreshing!

Marinette finds Alya at a party celebrating Lila, the kingdom’s self-proclaimed golden girl.

Hearing Lila admit that it is a struggle to balance her personal life with all her charity work, “I wish I could do more.”

Alya pipes in, “No worries, I hereby bless you with the gift of giving. From now on, you will be able to do just as you have always done, just more efficiently.”

To Lila’s horror, the first thing she did was to use all her stolen charity funds to actually donate to charity! Then she sold off mostly everything she owned, except for the necessities and even then, she made sure they were all plain. What the hell!?

She was lucky Alya didn’t make her truthful since Lila was also so “modest”.

Desperate to lift the curse, Lila quick-thinkingly persuaded Alya to check on her previous blessed friends (victims). She hopes they are more ostentatiously miserable than she!

Alya finds Marinette slaving away for Chloe, looking miserable. Chloe decides to take Sabrina to the ball since she looks happy, but leaves Marinette behind.

Alya is horrified that her blessing has such a consequence. Marinette begs her to undo it but Alya confesses she cannot. Hoping to make amends, Alya foolishly suggests Marinette go to the ball, but her wording makes it an order.

Marinette arrived at the masquerade, annoyed and planning to leave ASAP but then she met Luka and did not mind spending a bit more time with him.

Then someone had to cut in and remind Marinette that everyone has to greet the prince and she has not.

When Marinette greets Adrien, he recognizes her immediately and asks her to dance, wanting to know this mysterious girl. Throughout the dance, he tried to engage her in small talk but her answers were always curt and unfriendly.

And again, poor Marinette has no choice but to obey his suggestions to “Dance with me” or “Wait, one more round!”

By the time midnight rang, Marinette saw Chloe fleeing and abruptly pushed the prince down and fled herself, before he could “ask” for another dance.

She also ditched her heels because who can run in them?

Marinette made it back in time, pleased to see Alya had magically finished her chores for her too.

Chloe sulked over not dancing with Adrien. Then cheered up when she heard that he would marry whoever could wear the red shoes.

Thanks to the magic, even those with the same size feet as Marinette could not wear the heels.

When the shoes arrived at Chloe’s estate, she threw a tantrum over these ridiculous shoes.

Nathalie asked for the other females to try them next.

Chloe: don’t bother with Marinette. She didn’t even attend the ball.

Nathalie: regardless, the prince’s intended has displayed some aversion to being found. So all maidens are to try the shoes.

Surprise, surprise. The shoe fits.

Nathalie: wonderful. Let’s go.

Chloe: Marinette, i forbid you to go.

Nathalie: and I forbid you from forbidding her. Who are you to counter a royal order?

Chloe: I’m her best friend!

Marinette: no, you’re not. And I don’t want to marry Prince Adrien.

Nathalie: orders are orders. I have to bring you to see him, so let’s go.

Marinette was miserable as she looked out the carriage, her heart breaking as she caught sight of Luka strumming his guitar on the river bank. She would have dated him months ago but Chloe found out and didn’t want any of her friends to be engaged before herself.

If only Alya had broken the spell!

But no! She can’t. The spell has grown too strong with time passing.

There has to be something stronger than Alya’s Magic. But what?

Love.

Wasn’t that what the fairy tales said was the most powerful magic of all?

But if that were the case, shouldn’t Marinette’s love for Luka have broken the spell already?

What else did she know about magic? It’s tricky because it’s all about the wording. And Marinette has to obey every order ever given to her, no matter who gives it.

No matter who gives it.

Marinette suddenly felt like hitting her head. How could she have been so obtuse. The answer had been literally staring her in the face for as long as she could remember.

Focusing on her reflection in the carriage window, Marinette said firmly, “You will no longer obey any command unless you wish it.”

Nathalie: who are you talking to?

Marinette wanted to leap out of the carriage right away. But she supposed she has to face the prince sooner or later.

When Adrien met Marinette, he did not look like the arrogant, controlling princeling she had expected. He almost looked shy, naive.

Adrien: it’s you! I knew it!

Marinette: you must already know I don’t want to marry you.

Adrien: i know. I wasn’t going to force you, but I did want to be your friend.

Marinette: won’t the king be upset about this arrangement, after all the fuss about finding me?

Adrien: my father will be relieved, I assure you. He didn’t want to throw a party at all. The whole engagement thing was to make sure I would be as miserable as he was. He’ll be fine.

Marinette: good. Now if you would be so kind as to excuse me, you can find me at the bakery…

Marinette spun and fled for the riverbank, throwing herself into Luka’s arms and asking if she is too late to accept his courtship.

Luka laughed. “Not at all, Ma-Ma-Marinette!”

Chloe was disappointed to lose Marinette, but not for long. Apparently Lila was so generous to take Marinette’s place and help Sabrina. This time Lila couldn’t even fake a smile. “Where is that blasted fairy?!”

#miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug fic #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #ml fic #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #Marinette is cursed #Lila karma #Alya and Adrien aren’t villains just naive #marinette x Luka