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bush-viper-cutie · 4 years

Text

Green Lace and Peonies

(Part 2 of The Crystal Ball)

Pairing: Snape x fem!reader

Word Count: 4,276

Rating: M for Mature

Plot: Severus Snape goes on a date with the girl his crystal ball paired him with. The date does not go as he thought it would, but he comes to realize how perfect she really is for him.

Warnings: It gets steamy :o

A/N: Back by popular demand! I hope this is a good continuation (wasn’t exactly sure how or where to take it) and that it wasn’t too “steamy” (or idk maybe it should have been more) and still just as fluffy but here it is. I’d love any thoughts on it :)

Posted: 4/26/20

Masterlist

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Severus’s heart was pounding as loud as his footsteps on the kitchen tile, clutching a gentle note in his trembling hand. He had paced away the dust in his living room floor already and would have to move on to his bedroom soon.

“What do I write?” his whispers carried throughout his empty home, bouncing off the torn wallpaper and echoed in his ears.

He hadn’t stopped thinking about the beautiful girl he’d met a few days ago, who had given him this note as well as herself all to him. She had said she’d be expecting his owl, but that felt like an eternity ago. Maybe she forgot about me already.

That was partly why he couldn’t bring himself to finish a single letter he started. Everything he wrote seemed idiotic. ‘Hello’ ‘Morning’ ‘You wanted to go on a date?’ ‘Go on a date with me?’ Everything seems so… he sighed and rubbed his eyes. Pathetic.

He pressed his hands on the edge of the sink and leaned forward, staring into the rusty drain. The only reason he was even still fretting about her was the effect her words had on his very being. She had called him her soulmate, given herself to him, and kissed his cheek with the softest lips in all of existence. A kiss he hadn’t stopped thinking about for a second. A kiss he recreated in his head, in his dreams... he blushed and turned away.

If there was any chance she was still waiting for him, he had to take it. Severus sat back down at the small round table in the corner of the kitchen and picked up the quill for the hundredth time that day. He looked at the note she’d attached to the flower she’d given him and placed it next to the picture of himself in his seventh year with three red hearts floating beside his face.

The sun was setting so he could no longer start it off with ‘Good morning,’ unless he sent it tomorrow – though he doubted he’d want this letter in his home for longer than it took to write it. He started with her name and a comma. Good… the bare minimum, he mocked himself.

He sighed and leaned back, letting his head hang off his shoulder, drawing all his hair to fall back and sweep the dusty counter behind him. He ran his hand through it, untangling knots as he went. He closed his tired eyes and shook his head. Just do it. Just write anything and send it off. She won’t even respond anyways.

He huffed and started scrawling as fast as he could, writing the first thing that popped into his head – it was like words were pinned to a board and he was throwing darts at random with every sentence.

I’d like to see you again if you have the time. Anywhere you’d like. I understand if you don’t, though. Don’t bother responding to this letter if that’s the case. I’ll be waiting your owl or lack thereof. I’ll get the message either way.

Severus Snape

He groaned. Just send it. He walked over to the opposite corner where a small owl slept in a large metal cage. He’d rented the owl from the post office for a few days before coming back to his house, though he’d have to return to London soon to give it back or face the past-due charges.

“Here,” he folded up the letter and shoved it into the little pocket tied to the owl’s leg.

The owl hooted, relieved to finally be able to stretch his wings, and hopped down onto Severus’ pale outstretched finger. The owl shook his wings open and waited for him to fling open the window, flying out into the evening sky ready to complete its duties.

That night Severus could do nothing but cringe at what he remembered writing, hoping he was exaggerating his words in his memories. He shook his sheets and slipped inside, tucking his nightshirt down and punching his pillow a few times before dropping his head onto it. He closed his eyes and ran a finger over the warm sensation on his cheek, remembering the way her nose brushed his skin.

. . .

There was a clicking sound, like pebbles hitting a window. Severus slowly opened his eyes and looked towards the light shining onto the floor. A weirdly shaped shadow moved around from one corner of the square of light to the other.

Severus sat up and flattened his hair, yawning wide and wiping his nose on his sleeve. He could feel the second his brain clicked on, because the lumpy shadow very quickly turned into the silhouette of a small owl.

He leapt off the bed and forced the bedroom window up, letting the tiny bird in. The owl flew to the top of his dresser and extended his leg. Severus’ heart stopped beating and his lungs ceased to function. He was dead by all accounts except for the quiet words ringing in his head: She responded. Merlin, she responded.

He quickly slid the letter out and turned on the light, moving the paper up close to his eyes as he read her writing.

Severus,

I want to see you soon. You’ve said anywhere I like, so let’s make it your place. Since you’re hosting, I’ll bring the food. Respond with any day or time. Be warned, if you don’t respond I’ll arrive at your doorstep next Friday. And if you think I won’t follow an owl, I will. Though I prefer your Floo location.

Severus chuckled. “‘All yours,’” she’d written it at the bottom just like the note. He had to admit he liked her humor as much as her lovely words. Wait… Severus held the letter closer suddenly. “‘your place.’”

He bit down his tongue in anger and rushed downstairs, looking around at the hole-ridden rug in the foyer, the piles and piles of books in his living room, and chipped paint and torn wallpaper in his kitchen.

“Damn it!” He hadn’t expected she’d want to come over. A restaurant or pub, sure, but his house? Why! He quickly scribbled his Floo location on a piece of spare parchment and sent the owl out again. “At least I don’t have to worry about cooking,” he pinched the bridge of his nose.

He spent the rest of the week doing what little he could to make the place look more like it had before… before he had left. He remembered the state of the house the last time he had seen it before leaving (running away more like) his house. The foyer had a working light that illuminated the beige wallpaper walls and light grey rug that covered the wooden floor from the welcome mat to the back-patio door.

The living room had a television set and a recliner chair with dust-free shelves full of souvenirs from his father’s schooling years and cans of empty beer. The kitchen was full of dirty dishes but the handles on every cabinet were polished and every surface was spotless. The walls were covered in a disgusting pastel yellow flower pattern from the previous owners… And now after four years the place looked abandoned – though it had been left to rot for almost two years before he moved back in.

He took out his wand and got to repairing the rug and removing the horrid wallpaper. The next day he fixed the handles and doorknobs of the only bathroom – which was upstairs – and cabinets. The rest of the days were spent trying to find space on the shelves for all his books. He shoved them through every space he could find above the book rows any way they would fit. And if they didn’t fit, then into his room they would go.

“Finally,” he shook his dusty hair and stepped back. The bookcase now looked like a solid wall of book spines but there were none out, which made the place look roomier.

The place looked… well she shouldn’t be surprised by any of it. The house now looked more like how he kept his potions classrooms – in some sort of organized mess. He’d spent the week cleaning in his night shirt because the only other thing he owned was his teaching clothes – though of course he couldn’t wear the cloak – and would settle on wearing his frock coat only.

Severus sat in his chair in the corner of the living room and closed his eyes. All that was left to do was wait for Friday to arrive.

. . .

The clock ticked five and Severus stared into the mirror, yet to button up his coat. He pressed down his hair and looked over his dark circled eyes and crooked nose. Sighing, he began the ritual of buttoning up starting from his collar – tucking his cravat in first – and making his way down to his waist, breathing slowly.

It was now six as he stood in the living room and turned towards the fireplace. He fidgeted with his hands behind his back and tried hard not to bite his bottom lip, fearing it would bruise like it always did. The fireplace lit with roaring flames and turned bright green. Severus straightened and heard his heart thumping loudly as the seconds went on, feeling like eternities just waiting for her to cross the fire.

A smooth leg in elegant heels stepped through, followed by soft-looking flowing hair as she ducked out from the fire and stepped into the dismal room. Her kind smile instantly lit up the place and he wanted very badly to look away and hide himself in his bedroom.

Her smile widened as she caught his eyes. “Severus,” she came closer.

He breathed in and was reminded of crushed peony powder. He noticed the basket she carried and took it, walking out of the room she was in and into the solitude of the kitchen where he set it down. He wiped his hands on his coat and let out a rugged breath. Calm down, for fuck’s sake.

“Severus? Are you alright?”

Severus turned to see her leaning on the door frame. His eyes betrayed him and scanned over her summer dress. The thin straps over her shoulders, the buttons down her chest, the flowery pattern of the skirt…

“Yes,” he cleared his throat and stepped aside, letting her go through the basket while he watched.

She pulled out several boxes, a jar of cut up fruit, and a green checkered blanket. She turned around and looked him over, licking her bottom lip as if tasting something sweet, “I thought we could have a type of picnic indoors. And it looks,” she glanced into the living room, “like you have room. Is that ok?”

Severus tore his eyes away from hers and nodded stiffly. He picked up the blanket and laid it out over the living room rug. She placed his own plates and glasses on the blanket and waved her wand, summoning the rest of the things.

“Why don’t you sit down,” she smiled and took a seat, folding her legs to the side and smoothing out her skirt.

Severus did as she said and crossed his legs. She leaned over and poured out the food carefully onto their plates – sautéed salmon and vegetables with a savory-looking glaze he couldn’t wait to try. At this point he wasn’t sure what was making his mouth water more, the food or the way her eyes drifted down to his lips as they talked.

The sun was now setting, changing the mood of the room. Her laughter turned into giggles and her eye gleamed with mischief every time she touched his arm. His heart leapt out of his chest and into his throat every time he felt her hand on him. He had counted at least five times he smiled stupidly during the meal and now, looking down at her hand on his arm again, made six.

“It’s getting late,” Severus cleared his throat, noticing the darkness looming outside the kitchen window. “What time did you need to be home?”

“No specific time, though I have an interview tomorrow morning,” she waved her wand and cleared the blanket of the dishes, glasses, and napkins. “You still have time tonight though, don’t you?” She whispered, inching closer to him.

He looked down at her and nodded, unable to help himself from leaning in further. She sat up on her knees and moved closer still, stopping right in front of him. Severus could feel his heart begin to beat faster and his hands becoming moist with a nervous sweat. He clenched his fists and kept them on his knees. It had only been a few hours since her arrival and yet he felt like he was coming undone. He was so used to keeping his composure so easily, it was frightening how fast he lost it.

“Thank you,” he breathed, “for the meal.”

“You’re welcome.” She lifted her hand and tucked a black strand of hair behind his ear, “May I kiss you, Severus?”

He looked at her intently, trying hard to distinguish the look she was giving him. He hadn’t expected everything to be going so well, let alone to be receiving another kiss that could melt him on the spot. He nodded and silently begged for her to kiss him like she’d done before. “Yes.”

He closed his eyes, waiting for a warm sensation on his cheek and felt instead her hand on his neck, pulling him in closer. He leaned forward, more than willing, and felt his lips go warm. He opened his eyes, shocked, and saw she was tilting her head, eyes closed as she kissed his lips.

He followed her motions and let out a deep and unexpected moan, pulling back quickly, “Sorry, I – ”

She pulled him back in and this time he felt her tongue slip into his mouth. Merlin, please don’t let this stop. Every fiber of his being was on fire. She ran her tongue over his and took his trembling hands in hers. He let her guide his hands to her hips, making him moan again, except this time she wasn’t letting him pull away.

He gripped her hips instinctively and closed his eyes, picturing her as she was now, leaning over him in her summer dress and heels. He could feel his wet lips being pulled on by hers and shivered with anticipation. His hand moved up her back and pushed her closer, although he could have never expected her reaction.

She sat up off her heels and moved closer, lifting her right leg over his and then her left, now sitting on his crossed-leg lap, her skirt spread over them as she pressed her lips deeper into his. He moaned again and Merlin only knows what possessed him to press her down deeper into his lap but feeling the pressure it caused made him moan louder.

He felt a smile pull at her lips as he pressed her down. She dug her fingers in his hair and start pulling. The air around them was starting to feel very hot, even for a summer night. She wrapped her arms around his shoulder and pulled herself away, trailing kisses along his jaw and up to his ear.

“Severus,” she moaned.

Please don’t stop. Please, he turned away, giving her his ear for full attention and sighed as she whispered and teased him further. His hands slowly trailed down to the edge of her skirt, playing with the hem, letting her know he wanted to go further. Just then she leaned back and pulled him with her as she laid down on the green checkered blanket.

“I’m yours, Severus. From the moment you sent me that message,” she pulled his cravat loose slowly and let it drop beside them, “You’re my soulmate.”

He propped himself on his elbows and bit his lip as the words reached his ears like a blessed melody. He trailed his eyes away from hers and down to where his black hair rested on the small buttons of her dress.

“I want to be all yours,” he whispered, feeling her heels slide up along the blanket, her thighs press against his torso, and her knees lock him in place. All yours.

He climbed further up her body and pressed his lips into hers, needing to feel her sweet tongue inside his mouth once more. Make me yours. I’ll do anything. He kicked off his dress shoes and let her take his left hand and place it on her knee behind him. He felt her gentle fingers press on his hand and guide him down her thigh and under her skirt but letting him finish the movement on his own.

He stretched out his fingers and slid them slowly deeper under her skirt until they felt a textured cloth by her hips. He let out another moan and noticed she gave another smile as they kissed. He followed the cloth down towards her lower back and wedged his fingers between the ground and her warm skin, feeling how smooth and soft she was.

“Squeeze me,” she whispered into his lips.

“Merlin… you tease too much,” he laughed.

“I’m not teasing,” her smile grew as she watched his eyes widen.

He slid his hand down from the cloth and traced a small circle on her plump curves. He squeezed, feeling his thoughts cease as he focused on the moment. He found himself pushing his hips down on her harder and moaning at the mounding pressure. He could feel his ears and cheeks going red and heard a small giggle escape her lips. He looked away and pressed his forehead down in the crook of her neck and kissed her collarbone gently, trying to reel his thoughts back in place.

“Can we go to your room?”

“M-my room?” He knew his bedroom was a complete mess. He had shoved anything out of place in there, practically throwing it in. The only thing he knew he organized neatly were his newly acquired jars of eastern specimens from Knockturn Alley. Would the alphabetical labeling impress her?

“Severus?” She pulled his chin up to look at her pleading eyes. She pressed him closer to her with her legs, begging him to give in.

“Alright,” the word came out as a trembling breath. He did not want the night to ever end, even if it meant facing more embarrassment. She already had him sweating and thinking things he dared not repeat but he didn’t let himself imagine what would happen in his bedroom lest he lose himself completely.

He stood up and helped her to her feet. She jumped up and kissed his cheek roughly like he’d seen girls do to their partners a million times back in school. It made him blush and so he quickly turned, hiding his face behind his hair and lead the way up. He pulled on the sleeves of his coat down further over his hands as they ascended the stairs to the second floor and walked the few steps to his bedroom door.

He opened it and stepped aside, letting her in first, unable to watch her reaction to the old highly-likely-to-creek-loudly bed, torn sheets, piles of books, pots, and cauldrons littered in the corners. Please don’t be disgusted.

She stepped into the room and turned, pulling him into a teasing kiss and lead him to his bed. Not uncomfortable about the mess? She is my soulmate, he smiled.

“Excited?” she pushed him down on the bed.

“I’m happy you came over,” he was glad the lights weren’t bright in here either as he was sure his face was more than just hot to the touch.

She curled her index finger under his chin and stepped between his legs, lifted her leg over his thigh and rested her knee on the bed next to him. His hands automatically moved to her waist, but she pushed them away, winking.

“I have something for you,” she kissed his lips lightly. “Lean back.”

He did as he was told and watched with a parted mouth as she began unbuttoning her dress, pulling the strands over her shoulders, and letting the dress drop to the floor. She trailed her hand from her neck and down her body. His eyes followed her hand, admiring the matching lace underwear set she had on. He recognized the cloth was a Slytherin-green color, along with two silver bows on either side of her hips, ready to be pulled apart. He licked his lips and closed his mouth, remaining as composed as possible.

“I wasn’t sure what your favorite color was, so I thought your Slytherin colors would do,” she winked and leaned forward, placing her other knee beside him and sat down on his lap again. “What do you think?”

“You’re perfect.” The words jumped out of his mouth before he could even process his thoughts, “I mean – t-the – Green and silver look really nice.” He could tell by the way she was smiling his face had probably gone full red. I can’t believe she is actually wearing this for me. She thought of me... She wanted to impress me. At this point his house could catch on fire, burning every book he own, and it would still be the greatest night of his life.

He turned his head as she leaned forward, kissing his ear and sending another shiver down his body.

“You’re everything I want,” she whispered, “You’re all I’ll ever want.”

Severus closed his eyes, listening intently at every word she spoke like a spell she was putting him under. She wants me as much as I want her. Only me… Only ever me. His hands trailed up her thigh and pulled her closer, “I’m yours. I’m all yours.” He pressed into her kiss and took in every sensation, wanting to remember everything about tonight for the rest of his life.

She pulled away slightly, “Even while you keep teaching at Hogwarts… And I work elsewhere?” Her words were nothing more than a murmur.

Severus opened his eyes and turned to look at her. She was hiding something. He could tell by the way her closed-mouth smile didn’t reach her eyes this time.

“Of course. You’re…” he paused to look deep into her eyes. “My soulmate…” he could feel the weighty truth of his words.

“Promise?”

He gently nudged her off and sat up beside her on the bed, “I promise.” His tone was stern, hoping to convey how deeply he meant it.

She smiled genuinely once more. She undid the straps of her heels and slid them off. She pulled the sheets up and slipped inside, “Join me?”

He nodded and unbuttoned his coat all the way, sliding it off and throwing it over the footboard. She reached up and slid her finger under his waistcoat and pulled him down under the sheets with her. Unsure how to position himself he laid on his back and looked over at her.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

She giggled and kissed his jaw lightly, pulling herself towards him and laid her head on his chest. She draped an arm over him and held him tight. This was also a moment he would not forget, having often wished he had someone to hold or anyone who even wanted to hold him. He rested his arm over her body and played with another silver ribbon he found on the green lace. His eyelids started drooping and he wished she could stay the night.

“I wish I didn’t have to, but I have to leave soon,” she sighed.

He didn’t want this perfect night to end. She was wonderful, soft, kind, and liked him despite all the terrible things wrong with what he could barely call his home. He cleared his throat, “I understand… Good luck in your interview.”

She smiled and kissed him one last time before standing up to dress. He watched her sit and slide her heels back on and stand. She surprised him when she reached for his hand and held it as they walked down the stairs and back into the living room together.

She grabbed the basket and threw Floo powder into the fireplace. Green fire roared to life and he pulled her in for a hug. Her arms wrapped around him and he felt like never pulling away from her embrace, wanting to hold her like that for the rest of his life.

She pulled away and picked up his cravat from the floor, he reached to take it from her, but she pulled it back. She laughed and reached behind her back and then reached into her dress, pulling on the green lace and offered it up to him, “Do you accept an exchange?”

He smiled wide, loving the constant teasing, “If I must.” He chuckled.

“Dream of me tonight,” she kissed his cheek and winked, a sparkle of mischief present in her eyes once more, “And I’ll see you soon, Severus.”

He felt that stupid smile of his creep up onto his face once more and nodded, watching her disappear in the fire. He looked around embarrassed, as if he weren’t alone in his home, and ran upstairs. He quickly changed into his night shirt and crawled into bed, pulling the sheets up to his nose and breathed in. It still smelled like crushed peony powder. He opened his drawer and placed the green lace inside, still amazed she had worn it just for him. She would definitely haunt his dreams tonight.

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Masterlist

Request:

Thank you

@wow-life-love4

@x-avantgarde-x

and a few others (not sure if you wanted to be tagged but thank you for requesting a second part)

and for all the lovely comments on part one!

#severus snape #pro snape #severus snape x reader #severus x reader #snape x reader #reader insert #snape fanfiction #snape fanfict #one shot #snapedom #snape one shot #severus snape one shot #severus #snape #snape x fem!reader

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shootingcookielover · 4 years

Text

What if

What if baby Janus

Covered up the scales so.. So the others couldn't see that he's a monster

At first it started with a few little ones, popping up around his neck, right where the collar of his shirt was. They were barely visible and Janus could easily cover them with a bit of glamor; as though they weren't there at all.

But the more time passed, the more scales popped up on his body. They climbed on his skin, until the entirety of his left side was covered.

It wouldn't have been a problem; just as it had never been a problem before. Only now... The glamor didn't work anymore. No matter how hard he tried, the scales just wouldn't give way beneath a fake layer of skin.

No matter how much make-up he piled on that side of his face, it wouldn't stay on, wouldn't even smudge them.

For the next few days, nobody came to look for him.

On the fourth day, however, those fateful four knocks announced someone else's presence.

Janus grabbed a blanket in his panic and hid beneath it. They couldn't see him like this; they'd know he truly wasn't a good person, as they already suspected. They'd know for certain that he was a monster.

"Lying?", the wary voice of Heart asked.

Janus' heart fluttered in his chest with fear, he pulled the blanket closer around himself.

"What is it, Heart?", he replied, voice sounding composed and as it usually would.

"You haven't come to play! You promised King you'd help him!", Heart reprimanded.

Right. He had promised that, hadn't he?

Those words had completely slipped his mind; as anything tended to that would make him a good person. His grip on the blanket tightened.

Why did he have to be so... So... Selfish?

"Lying! Answer me! Or I'll have to drag you out myself!"

The tough voice Heart put on almsot made Janus crack a smile. Heart always tried to be like Thomas' parents.

The words themselves, however, dug a deep crater of fear into his chest. "No!", he yelled in his panic, "Don't-!"

He quickly cleared his throat to build his composure back up. "I- I mean... Please don't come in, I'm... Naked!"

The short silence was a very welcome change for his frayed nerves. He was almsot settled again, when Heart asked: "Are you telling the truth?"

Janus wanted to say yes, as inconspicuously as possible. But he couldn't.

It felt as though someone had taped his mouth shut; not a single word slipped past his lips.

"Really now, Lying...", Heart said, as he pushed the door open, "I've told you, you should always tell the truth!"

Heart stopped, only a few steps away from the door. He eyed the lump under the blanket that was Janus with confusion.

"Lying...?", he asked, "What are you doing...?"

His mind scrambled to come up with a feasible excuse, but he drew a blank. Nothing he could say would explain this.

He pulled the blanket closer, tensing at the sound of steps.

"Lying! If this is one of your tricks again--"

Heart pulled the blanket off. "No wait-!"

Janus quickly tried to hide his face behind his hands; but the left hand was just as much littered with scales as his face.

"W- what--", Heart stumbled back, away from Janus, an expression of pure terror on his face. "King!"

"No, no wait--", Janus scrambled backwards, back hitting the wall. "Please, I don't know why they appeared, it's still me!"

But Heart wasn't listening anymore. "King!"

He yelled again, summoning the other to the room.

"What could it be, my faithful king of hearts?"

Heart silently pointed at Janus, tears trailing down his cheeks.

The King twirled around, only to jump back at the sight of Janus.

A sword was pointed at him soon. "What are you?!"

Janus clawed at the scales, tears pouring from his eyes as well. "It's me!", he sobbed, "Lying! Please, believe me!"

But the king only sneered. "You're a monster!"

Janus wasn't allowed to leave his room anymore after that.

He was grounded.

But his room - it was just so mind-numbingly boring. He couldn't take it anymore.

One night, so late that Remy had convinced Thomas to actually go to sleep, the tiny side snuck out of his room.

The others couldn't lock the door; that was his job.

He silently creeped down into the living room. The Tv stood there, the dark silhouette oh so enticing.

Maybe if Janus hadn't been such a selfish monster he could have resisted temptation and gone back to his room.

Instead he turned on the Tv.

For a bit, Janus enjoyed the mindless entertainment before him.

"What are you doing here?!"

Fear's voice cut through the cartoon Janus was watching. The tiny side jumped to his feet.

He stared at Fear.

"You're supposed to be in your room! Heart! King!"

"No, no, wait!", he tried to soothe the other side, but it was too late.

"Why are you here? You were banished, monster!", the sword was pointed at him again.

As much as lies were in Janus' nature, so was the truth, and it had the annoying habit to fall from his tongue when he least needed it to. "Only I can banish sides!"

"Are you threatening us?!"

"What?! No, I'm sorry! I'll go back to my room-!"

"No, I've had enough of your attitude, mister!", he doubted Heart even knew what 'attitude' meant.

The side glared out of the fear and terror in his eyes. "I don't want you here anymore! You only make Thomas bad!"

Janus didn't remember much from the time immediately after that.

All he remembered was stumbling through darkness. A darkness so deep and soft, he might as well have been able to touch it.

He remembered those beasts from the darkness, following him, always there, never safe.

It was a mantra he still followed, even now.

Even when the others didn't look at him with horror in their eyes anymore. When there was no contempt in their faces and no venom in their voices.

He liked being part of the group again, but he knew they'd kick him out again. As soon as they realized what a monster he was, they would kick him out once more.

When they saw they'd been wrong.

Janus was in the bathroom connected to his room when four knocks announced another side's presence.

Four knocks.

Janus could feel his heart stop as he gripped the edges of his sink.

They knew.

"Janus?"

The voice wasn't Heart's, but it was. Heart never knew his name, never asked. Monsters don't have names, don't deserve them.

"Janus, I know... I know you're probably upset and... Well. I have to say it. I'm... Sorry. For making fun of your name. That wasn't very... Princely of me."

The voice sounded weirdly muffled against the screams in Janus' ears. They were his own screams from back then, from when he'd run and fallen and fought.

His balance was suddenly off and his vision tilted sideways. He tried to grab hold of anything to keep him steady, but there was only air. His vision darkened and his breath caught in his throat, just before the all-consuming terror swept through his being.

He was back he was back no no he couldn't be but he was he was back he couldn't be back nonononopleasenoican'tnotagainplease--

He didn't hear the scream he actually let out right then and there, didn't hear the doors opening and certainly didn't see the prince crouching before his crumpled form.

"...nus?! Janus! Hey! Breathe! Breathe with me, please!"

Janus didn't see the struggle on Roman's face as the prince tried to remember those breathing exercises.

"In for four!", he said, finally, his voice oh so muffled and oh so quiet. "Come one, Janus, I know you can do this! Breathe in for four seconds!"

Eventually, consciousness spiraled back into Janus' control.

He stared at the prince in disbelief.

"You... Helped me...", he mumbled, clutching at his chest.

"Of course I did! I couldn't not help you."

Janus gave him a weak smile. "The hero-complex. That explains it.", he muttered.

"...the what?"

"You know...", Janus might have been a bit out of it, exhaustion and other unpleasant feelings too intermingled in his chest to think straight - not that he was ever straight. "What makes you help everyone... Even..."

A humorless chuckle left Janus' lips as he pulled a hand to his chest to indicate himself. "Even monsters..."

There were warm hands around Janus' after a second, catching his attention.

His eyes slowly opened and he focused them on Roman.

"You aren't a monster, Janus."

The lying side huffed, his mind too tired to care anymore. "The King would beg to differ."

Roman's eyes widened for a second before he had himself under control again.

"Whatever he said isn't true, Janus. You're scales don't make you a monster; they make you beautiful."

"Right."

"They are.", Roman insisted. "I will keep telling you, until you believe me."

That alone didn't help much with Janus' trauma, but Roman brought the lying side to Dr. Picani eventually.

The therapist helped, a lot.

The others apologizing to him helped as well.

The tears spilling down Patton's face as he kept apologizing, clinging to him like a lifeline. Insisting that, even if they'd been children and not known better, it was a horrible thing to do.

Virgil had uneasily scooted up to him while Janus was reading a book - watching cartoons had lost it's appeal after the last time - and quietly said: "I'm sorry."

Logan had apologized too, even though he hadn't really been a part of Janus' punishment.

The only one who didn't apologize was Remus; because he'd already done that, a long time ago, after a screaming match that had shaken the darkside to it's core.

And, one day, when he woke up next to Roman and the prince said: "You're scales look beautiful."

Janus believed him.

#sanders sides #janus sanders #roman sanders #fanfiction #roceit #panic attack #i think??#not gonna lie #This spiraled away from me a bit #But I don't regret it #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #remus mention

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mahou-furbies · 4 years

Text

Magical Girl Raising Project Limited - character design ranking

Captain Grace

An alright pirate design with enough little details that keep it from being forgettable (I especially like the anchor buckle on her belt, and the earrings and hooks on her hair). The spikes on the coat are what stands out most to me; makes me think of a Mario enemy or something. However I’m not sure how much of a Magical Girl design it is. Like pirates and frills already go together, so the well tested formula (put a miniskirt and frills on it and it’s a magical girl look!) doesn’t really do much. Maybe it’d be better if she had some cutesy detail in there somewhere? Also is that an tail again or what, or some kind of blunt hook? What is it with these unnecessary tails in Magipro designs. 6/10.

Funny Trick

I’ve always liked Funny Trick’s look, and it’s probably because of the pleasant colour palette, unique eyes and two-tone hair (I’m easy to please with two-tone hair). The nail polish and colourful glitter on her fur are also good little details. But apart from that I guess this is only barely strange enough to be any kind of��“magical” look rather than just an anime stage magician, but at least that’s pretty close to magical girls already. Also is that a frigging tail again?? At least it goes well with the hair I guess... 8/10.

Kuru-Kuru Hime

It’s a cute design, but when I think of a ribbon magical girl I somehow expected more ribbons? Like this feels like an the higher end of an average magical girl amount of ribbons? Or maybe it’s totally over the top and my perspective is just skewed since I love ribbons and want them everywhere. Either way I like her outfit from neck down, but I’m not that into the headgear, the combo of the bonnet thingy and the weird crown just sitting on top if it looks strange to me. Nice hair tho even if it could use more ribbons. 6/10.

Weddin

I absolutely love Weddin’s design. The muted and light colour palette is very appealing to me, and the dark chains break up the mostly monochrome design so it doesn’t look dull and faded and also give the otherwise super frilly appearance quite a lot of edge. There’s repeating elements (braids in her hair and veil, the same kind of flowers everywhere, flower yellow also appearing in her eye makeup) so it doesn’t get too complicated, and all of them go well with the wedding theme too. The flame... is a bit of an odd touch and I’d rather associate it with a birthday party or Christmas than a Wedding but I guess you can have candles at weddings too, and I don’t find it too distracting.

I’m not a huge fan of the lingerie like look though, but at least visible garters go with the wedding theme and she’s so covered in veils and frills that it doesn’t look so bad. Also the back train looks kind of lazy. But overall still one of my favourite Magipro designs. 10/10.

Rain Pow

A tail again! However this time I actually like it, since she has that rainbow hoop behind her it looks good to stick something through it, and at least it somewhat resembles her twintails.

As for the rest of the design, it has zero frills and ribbons and looks more like some kind of scifi spacesuit than a typical magical girl design, but somehow I still really like it. I think the weird heart hair is just enough to pull it into magical girl territory for me so my impressions are more on the “an unique take on an mg look” rather than “not mg enough” side. Then all the rings keep the look consistent (I absolutely love the rainbow halo) and the suit itself looks alright enough. I also find it interesting how muted the suit colours are for a rainbow magical girl and even the rainbow is pretty pastel, but I figure this is a better choice than all the expected seven colours in all their eye-strainy glory. 9/10.

Postarie

Please put on some pants, that is a shirt and not a dress.

Not too interested in this one, but I find it a commendable effort on making a design on the idea of “postal delivery girl”. Still lots of repeating elements so that’s a plus, especially the back epaulette is such an absurd idea but somehow it works and its wings and the wing hairstyle add the required fantasy touch. Bonus points for the cute birds. 7/10.

Tepsekemei

An inoffensive genie design but I struggle to really have emotions towards it. Butt flower is silly and I have no idea what the things hanging from it are, but at least they’re consistent with her head decoration. Don’t care for the shoulder spikes in an otherwise soft looking design. Huge earrings and multicoloured nails are a nice touch. 6/10.

7753

Also one of my favourite Magipro looks. It feels like the design philosophy here was “gakuran jacket and some frills, and then some hearts. And more hearts! More! Even more!” and I think it’s a great way to go with when designing a magical girl. Using just hearts everywhere makes the outfit cohesive, but since they’re all implemented in different ways it doesn’t get boring. I especially like the little hearts on her hands and under the eye, and the one in her pocket.

Two-tone hair in twintails is also one of the best design elements out there and the hairstyle is quite memorable (and also manages to incorporate the heart motif) and I’m always a fan of caps too. The green eyes and the little bit of green nail polish which you unfortunately can’t see here go well with the otherwise reddish look. Maybe the hair looks a bit too clunky (I only just realised it appears to be tied in a hoop behind her) but I won’t let it bother me. 10/10.

Mana

A solid witch design, I especially love the dimensional cape and hat. I also like the huge collar with the lace detail, but I’m not sure if it works with the hat brim. Not a big fan of the hair, I think it clutters the design. The snake leg accessory feels weird and a bit out of place but I do appreciate the asymmetry and also having something dark to break up the otherwise plain bottom part of the design.. 7/10.

Gekokujou Hana

I tend not to be a huge fan of kimono-based clothes, but this one is an exception I guess. The great colours must play a part in it, and the bottom part is fun. Then the dangly decorations add the correct amount of strangeness so it’s not just a bunny girl in a mini kimono Also, another tail, but this time it’s almost a requirement and I love how ridiculously huge it is (and also repeats elsewhere in her outfit). But really I can’t think of anything to dislike about this, must be the colours and the tail. 10/10.

Archfiend Pam

I believe this is the record on how little clothing you can wear in this franchise... At least she has the personality to pull that off. But that is not a top! At least it’s something new...? The wings fit the description in the story, but I don’t think these blank rectangles look very aesthetically pleasing. I like the tail best, the fur edge makes it a lot more interesting than just the usual demon tail. I don’t know, if the theme is a sexy demon girl this design definitely accomplishes it in a unique way, but also I don’t care for this fanservicey designs. Also not a fan of the hair. 4/10.

Pythie Frederica

Before drawing her for the chibi series I thought she had some kind of a helmet but upon closer inspection of course it’s a veil. But what are the horns?

Upon closer inspection this one is also very fanservicey, in that her “dress” is actually see-through and the only thing covering the critical areas look like thin belt-thingies. At least she doesn’t look like she’s ten... But a major issue I have is the bottom part of her outfit, like how is it supposed to work? Is it one big piece of cloth, or multiple thin ones? What is the “fire” behind her? Is the dark part her hair, or the clothing, and is it supposed to be black or just shading? I do like the stars; otherwise the design gives a more mature “sexy” air, but the little stars everywhere adds a cute element. The colour palette is pleasing, but as much as I like multicoloured hair it doesn’t grant points this time, because the wiggly stray strands look very out of place here and the colour change makes them even more noticeable. 2/10.

Tot Pop

This one really isn’t my aesthetic, I very much prefer the cutesy style and there isn’t really anything ‘magical girl’ about this design. And it doesn’t really evoke the supposed image of ‘pop star’ to me either, like if you remove the guitar I’d think her theme was a prisoner or halloween. Though I don’t really know what a ‘pop star’ should look like anyway, like can’t they wear anything they want, I know Lady Gaga had a meat dress or something. But as of this design, I don’t think there’s anything specifically wrong with it, the colours are pleasing, the details are consistent and it’s not bland or boring either, but it just doesn’t do much for me because of the theme. I like the blood-stained hair and the spiky hair accessory, the long hanging part makes for a nice silhouette. Meanwhile the skulls on her shoulders feel somewhat tacked on, and in general I don’t care for piercings in anywhere else than ears. 5/10.

Pukin

And it’s a tail again. What is it with the stupid tacked on tails on every other design in this franchise? Sometimes it’s not so badly out of place, like if you have an youthful cutesy design, a fluffy animal tail can still add to the cute effect even if it’s otherwise out of place. But Pukin is supposed to be this dangerous and majestic authority figure and a cutesy tail very much doesn’t fit that image. And while we’re on the topic of animal features, the story describes that she has a feather decoration in her hair, but the way it’s drawn as a tiny feather jutting directly up in the middle of her head gives me more the impression of a character whose theme is a baby bird rather than a fantasy prince.

Now that we’ve dealt with the tail let’s get the biggest issue out of the way: I’m aware that there was a time in history when people used to wear these kind of giant ruffled collars but I really don’t care if there’s some kind of history based reasoning. It looks like your head is on a plate and it’s something I can’t ignore. I don’t feel even clowns can pull that off. There is no way getting around this.

When I first read Limited I thought Pukin’s appearance was an absolute mess and an instant 1/10, but upon closer inspection there is stuff I like about it too. She has a good colour palette, great shoes and gloves, and as a friend of multicoloured hair I welcome the yellow hair tips. The big heavy cape balances the small top and pants, and I really like the fur. Earrings go well with the pants too. The theme is a bit confused, or at least I don’t know of any fairy tales about pumpkin prince, but it’s not like I would complain about pineapple or cauliflower princess so that’s not really a problem. 3/10.

Sonia Bean

And we end Limited with yet another excellent design. I like how this manages to look kind of tattered and messy without actually being gross and dirty with the patchwork dress, dustball-like thingies, newspaper clippings and asymmetry. Even her hair looks disheveled. The headgear gives the design an old-fashioned vibe which suits her well since she’s so old. The light palette, soft design elements and ribbons give the look a cute feel, but at the same time she feels suspiciously pale, and the manic expression screams danger, like you can’t reason with this girl. She’s like a ghost of a Victorian era child who wants to play with you but you know you definitely should not follow her.

The design only works if I don’t think too much about it though, like dust is gross and newspaper paper is crinkly and not soft at all, but since we’re magical girls here I can ignore that and enjoy the image the clothing evokes. 10/10.

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

Limited average: 6,9.

#magical girl raising project #mahou shoujo ikusei keikaku #mahoiku #my stuff #ranking #ranking: magical girl raising project

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lemonietrinket · 4 years

Text

Jigsaw Puzzle ||| Ending Five - Xiaojun

Summary: Xiaojun x Reader Genre: Fluff basically Warning(s): A big nail, no one is put in danger but vague inferences to what damage a crooked unattended nail could do, some foul language (1x f**k) Word Count: 2701 Theme Song: Home - JBJ95 AN: Xiaojunnie’s ending for my masterpiece Love—I recommend reading it first (it’s worth it, even if it is a bit sad the cuddling is great and so is the emotional support and just. hell yeah)

~~~

Skipping into the kitchen, a grin immediately rose to your face as you caught sight of the hunched figure outside in the garden. Even with his back turned on the window it was clear who it was, and after your encounter last week, you knew exactly what he was doing.

Letting temptation win you decided to ignore the task you’d been sent to complete (it didn’t matter much, Ten had legs and could totally get up and fetch his own food) and join Xiaojun outside. And so you grabbed the first jacket you could find—there was no doubt it was Kun’s going by the fresh scent upon the collar—slipped on your shoes and headed outside.

It was a grey day, the wind whipping up wildly one second to then disappearing into silence the next. It had an iciness to it that plunged into your skin where the jacket didn’t protect, and you shivered a hum as you pushed through the gate into the garden.

Xiaojun heard the creak of the iron lock and threw a glance over his shoulder. Seeing it was you he got to his feet. “Oh, Y/N, hi!”

“Hey,” you chirped over the sudden buffer of the wind, “are you... doing what I think you’re doing?”

He chuckled sheepishly before taking a step to the side, revealing a plastic pet bowl. “Yeah, you got me. Red handed.” He put his hands up in faux surrender.

Reaching the grass and coming to his side you bent down, mimicking what he’d been doing earlier. “So, what we got here, sonny boy.”

You heard him scoff and blinking up into the bright grey of the clouds you eventually caught sight of his dark eyes staring off at the fence at the bottom of the garden. Enraptured by his beauty that shone like the moon in the night no matter the angle, you very nearly forgot to breathe. The way his lips pursed into a coy smile was so distracting, and you only managed to save yourself when he rubbed his nose to combat the cold, the tip blushed as if smudged with light lipstick. That gave you ideas no less.

He crouched down beside you, shuffling away slightly to give you space from him—as if that was what you wanted at all—and thumbed the rim of the blue plastic. “Well, Officer, we got a bad case of broken plastic here.” He indicated to the clear jagged edge that was extremely hard to miss.

“Yikes,” you mumbled, “what happened?”

“You know the storm last night?”

You nodded, before your eyes widened when Xiaojun retrieved a large crooked nail from the grass by his foot. “Yo what the fuck?”

“Found it sticking out of the woodwork of the fence down there,” he gestured vaguely, his gaze focused intently on the rusty iron, “you’ve got to give it to Mother Nature, it was a bullseye.”

Mouth agape in disbelief at how the wind had managed to achieve that feat you frowned at the cut plastic. It looked old so you supposed it was no surprise it would splinter so easily. Nevertheless it seemed so freak. Unnerved by how long and wide the nail was, with its etched sharp point, your voice wavered. “How long had that been down there?”

He shrugged, finally raising his eyes to meet yours. You watched as they softened and he placed the nail on the patio concrete where it could be easily spotted. “It’s ok, I’ll get rid of it today.”

You nodded a thank you. “So... what were you trying to do to the bowl? It’s clearly a goner.”

“Trying to fix it,” Xiaojun answered simply. When you offered him a quizzical look, he procured a roll of sellotape. There was a twisted strand that hung over the side, sticky side folded over on itself and encasing several shards of plastic. When your face didn’t change a single bit he chuckled sheepishly. “The wind isn’t... quite on my side.”

“Couldn’t you have done that inside?”

He stared at you silently. “Yes, that would be the smart way of doing it b-but...” he scrambled for the words, “I thought it was going to be a quick job!” he exhaled while pulling his coat collar closer to his neck. “I was just wrong.”

“Clearly the brain cell wasn’t bestowed to you today,” you muttered through a stifled snicker, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Hey!”

You met his gaze then, a small smirk on your lips that flickering out as soon as you took him in once again. His pout left your heart racing and heat ros ot your cheeks to greet the caress of his dancing eyes. You quickly changed the subject, clearing your throat and ducking your head back down to the grass, fingers picking at the blades. “So... what are you going to do about it?”

You felt his stare flutter across your cheeks before quickly darting away to where the nail rested. He spoke while he scooped it up, “Guess I’d better go buy a new one.”

“Well, I’ll come with you!” you chirped, perhaps a little too quickly for your own good. “Keep you company and make sure you don’t get lost, you know.”

“That brain cell is missing after all isn’t it,” he said, soft smile sending your heart reeling before he stood up, gaze back to avoiding yours. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed after all. Perhaps that too wasn’t for your own good either.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Hands tucked in your pockets to protect them against the brash wind, you found yourself stumbling over an uneven slab in the pavement that you were walking down towards the pet store.

Eight times, you had counted, that your elbow had brushed his.

And unlike you, he hadn’t faltered in his step nor words once as he gently rambled to you, the words spilling from his lips bitten by the cold and his own tension. He often did this, on the rare occasions that it was just the two of you. He never spoke with an urgency, but it always dawned upon you afterwards just how far his thoughts went when he was with you—the topic he began on was never anywhere near the one that he finished with. You figured he just needed to vent, as maybe the others didn’t help him come to terms with some of his problems as much as he needed, or they were the problems (which seldom surprised you), and so you never interrupted him. You instead found yourself just silently listening to him, not thinking ill of it once, because you were spending time with him and that was enough. Also his voice had a knack for helping you just relax, it was so soft and peaceful, you were pretty sure you could fall asleep to it.

However, this time was like no other, as you discovered when you could barely listen to him at all. Dipping in and out of the sun-dappled mist of daydreams, called by his voice and his small glances to you, tipped with the crests of smiles, it was no surprise you found it extremely difficult to focus, even as the crowds increased as you reached the main road.

“It’s not far now,” Xiaojun announced once his ramblings had met a natural pause.

You didn’t respond, not grounded enough to get your vocal chords working in time. Besides, the chatter of the throngs of people was likely enough to swallow anything you said whole.

Forced by the sudden onslaught of strangers heading towards you, Xiaojun shuffled close to you so to allow more pavement for them.

Nine.

He came to walk slightly behind you, his presence offering a surprising sense of comfort as you continued on, the shining sign of the shop peaking through the swathes of silhouettes. Focusing on its retro-inspired neon cursive, you found the weightlessness subside.

Thanks to the lack of a constant reminder of the man you had fallen ever so hopelessly for being right at your side, by the time you reached the store, you had managed to get your voice working once again.

Warm air washing over you harshly, you quickly shed your coat at the discomfort as soon as you entered. Xiaojun only then stood beside you once again, coaxing the two of you to begin searching for the bowls.

“Should probably get a heavier one,” he mused, so quiet you could convince yourself he wasn’t talking to anyone at all, even you.

“Sounds good.”

He led the way, sharp eyes narrowed as he scoured the aisles for the distinctive bright colours he was after. The shop itself was pretty quiet, since it was so small and people were beginning to head home for dinner. Regarding the endless walls of biscuits, treats, toys, scratching posts, beds and whatnot you were baffled by how the food bowls were nowhere to be found. That was, until you turned the corner into the leftmost aisle and spotted them instantly.

“Junnie!” you called, bobbing down to get a closer look at the plastic on the bottom shelf. You were pretty sure they were dog bowls, but you didn’t see the harm in using it for a tiny hedgehog—especially since these looked much more robust and less likely to crack when thrown into a nail.

Picking up a red one you were surprised about how light it was, and at the word ‘DOG’ written bluntly in a rather aggressive font along its side. Grimacing you put it back and began turning the others along the shelf to see what they had written along it.

PUPPY.

ROVER.

#1 DOG.

You sighed, dismayed. It wasn’t the end of the world, giving a hedgehog a bowl with ‘dog’ emblazoned on the plastic of course, but it did feel a bit wrong. Especially when there was a high chance you could do better. Unless Xiaojun had miraculously named the hedgehog something dog-related.

That was when it hit you. You had no idea what he had called her.

Standing with a frown it was as if you had summoned him from the earth, as Xiaojun popped up from round the corner. His eyes brightened as soon as they rested upon you, though you wrote it off as being relieved to have finally found what you’d come all this way for. “Ah! Anything good?”

You barely registered his question, instead entirely leading with your own. “Junnie, what did you call the hedgehog?”

It was a seemingly innocuous question. And yet as soon as you looked back fro glancing at the shelves again, you watched as his voice got stuck in his throat.

“Xiaojun?” you enquired carefully.

Before you could enquire if he was ok, he coughed rather awkwardly as if he were a cartoon clearing his throat. “Sorry,” he managed, “I called her... Hedgehog?”

He was quite unlucky in that sense—the questioning intonation was slight but you caught in nonetheless, a consequence of your habit of hanging off his every word (when you weren’t too overwhelmed by his gorgeous features).

Bemused, you chuckled. “Hedgehog? You called her Hedgehog? How imaginative...”

“Why do you ask?”

Mildly startled by his sudden enquiry, your eyes widened before you could stop them. “Oh, the bowls... they have like dog-related stuff on them. Like ‘Rover,’” you pointed vaguely before focusing entirely on him once again, “but you didn’t call the hedgehog Rover, which would’ve been kinda funny because irony. Nope, you called her Hedgehog—honestly, Xiaojunnn,” you whined, turning to skim over the china bowls instead, “I thought you were more imaginative than that...!”

Meanwhile, Xiaojun was sweating internally. And externally too, most likely, not that he was really in the state to check. Truth be told he had been a little bit more imaginative than that, but there was also no way to tell you that, without admitting every little thing that he had hidden from you. All those gazes, accidental touches, rogue thoughts and near confessions, all out in one go. A board of jigsaw pieces so unclear, yet only needing one final piece to reveal the finished, Schrödinger’s image. He was one move away from perhaps achieving his dreams or unveiling heartbreak.

And that terrified him. Despite being confronted with a thousand pieces of evidence as to why it would be the former, he would never quite believe it with his whole heart. He’d entertained the possibility for too long in his head for it to ever wholly sink into his mind that it could be real. But he didn’t want to lie to you anymore. They may have only been small but he didn’t like how they hung over him, like the crystals of a chandelier strung too low and seconds from snapping. And he certainly didn’t want to make any more. But that meant confessing.

“—Do you think of Cactus, Xiaojun? Prickles? No that’s bad... Zen?”

Catching your eyes peering over your shoulder expectantly at him, he took a deep breath. “You know what is a good name?”

You hummed, shuffling back along the aisle to hear his answer.

“Y/N,” he finally continued, voice very nearly wavering.

“Yeah?”

He swallowed. “No, I mean... Y/N is a good name.”

He could see the cogs of thought twisting behind your eyes, before the cute smile he had come to know well and love appeared, highlighted. “Thank you, b-but you can’t name the hedgehog after me.”

“Uhh, yeah, it’s...” he sighed, gathering his strength, “it’s a bit late for that.”

Your voice was dead serious. “What.”

The whole situation had caught you off guard. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought he had named the spiky little creature after you. You figured that if he had been hiding something, it was that he had named her something embarrassing like ‘Sugar-Plum’ or ‘Marshmallow’. But you? He took one look at the prickly animal, that was known for being loud and far from cuddly, and named it after you? You had to admit you weren’t exactly endeared.

However, in a seconds he changed your mind.

“Y/N, listen,” he began, panic etched across his face as he ran his hand through his hair, “I... named her after you because I... I love hedgehogs. A lot. I think they’re adorable and want to hold them even if they look spiky on the outside. So when I found that one visiting regularly and I couldn’t think of a name, I just... named her after you because it made sense at the time. I didn’t think that far ahead, after all I never thought I had a chance with you anyway, so I figured it would be...”

Once he had trailed off you didn’t speak up to fill the silence, and ended up just staring at him. He was nervous, and you had been so swept up in your own thoughts that putting his together as they tumbled from him had become a nightmare but you were almost certain that he had in essence, said what you had long hoped to hear in some shape or form.

“Was that... a confession?” you gradually eased.

He looked around dazedly. “I think so, yeah.”

A smile teased at the corner of your lips. “You named her after me because you love hedgehogs, and you love... me...?”

After a moment of coming to terms with the simpler version, he nodded.

If he had tried to backtrack out of fear, he wouldn’t have had the chance to, because as soon as the relief washed across your shoulders and the excitement burst in your heart, he found you in his arms. You fit together perfectly, as the weight of reality settled in to encompass you both.

Your hair was soft at his neck even after being blustered by the wind and the sound of your elated laughter lit his skin ablaze. He found himself smiling uncontrollably at what he finally had in the palms of his hands—the coalescence of his love and dreams and future all in one. Cradling you against his chest he finally felt that jigsaw finally come together, to reveal the final image. One of tender care and affection, and a longing now fulfilled.

~~~

AN: I got another one done! after all this stalling again, again, im sorry !!!!

i love hedgehogs. we had one near our house at the beginning of the quarantine and it was so cute. i fed it dry cat biscuits and it snuffled so loud and then ate all of it and im just happy knowing my life is not completely worthless bc i fed the good boi

pls do not question me on where they live. its a house, yes they all live together and yn lives with them. yup theyve got a garden. its not an overly big house. why? bc why not

Masterlist

#wayv #nct #xiaojun #xiaojun fluff #xiaojun x reader #xiaojun x reader fluff #xiaojun oneshot #xiaojun wayv #xiaojun imagines #wayv x reader #wayv fluff #wayv x reader fluff #wayv x reader angst #wayv angst #wayv imagines

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language-of-love · 4 years

Text

look up at the stars...

Here’s the final of my fall-themed prompt fics. Thanks so much to everyone who sent in prompts and for your patience as it took me forever to get to them all. This one combines the last three I received from a few people - renting a cabin, hoodies and stargazing. (rated T, 1500 words)

🍂

There’s a cold breeze coming in from the water down here, making David shiver as he lifts the front of his hoodie sweatshirt over his nose and mouth, breathing out to warm his face in the muggy cocoon he’s created. It’s not his sweatshirt, not really, but the way Patrick’s eyes narrow and darken a few shades whenever he wears it makes David think that his borrowing of it is something Patrick enjoys. It’s soft, worn in, sleeves unraveling slightly from a small hole David can’t seem to stop poking his thumb through whenever he puts it on. Patrick says the faded design is of an elk, his mascot from high school, but the decal is almost all worn away. It’s such a departure from David’s usual crisp, perfect stylings that he can’t help but feel a bit different whenever he wears it, almost as if he’s transformed back to a younger version of himself, living out a long forgotten fantasy of having a boy in high school like him back, a nice boy like Patrick. Someone sweet, learning about life, love, someone to share teenage fumblings charged with possibility and hormones.

But, as intriguing as that fantasy might have been, he vastly prefers his reality, his present, learning about life and love with this nice man with his cozy sweatshirt and confident smiles.

Almost as if David’s mind has conjured him, he sees Patrick coming towards him, the amber light from their small rented cabin creating a glowing silhouette. They’d gotten here last night, their three night stay in this small a-frame cabin an engagement gift from Ray. They’d decided to squeeze in a quick getaway before the Christmas season really took hold at the store and it’s been the exact kind of cozy perfection David had assumed only actually existed in cheesy Hallmark holiday movies until this very moment.

It’s late, probably nearing midnight, but Patrick had suggested stargazing and David had agreed, feigning reluctance while secretly loving the idea of cuddling under a warm blanket and maybe making out a little on the soft grass. And sure, maybe he wore Patrick’s sweatshirt to avoid grass stains on his knitwear, but that’s neither here nor there.

“Is it too cold?”

Popping his chin out from inside the sweatshirt, David shakes his head, patting the blanket next to him in invitation.

“It��s fine, just a bit nippy. We can keep each other warm.”

Patrick maneuvers himself to a sitting position, the side of his chest pressing into David’s shoulder as he slides in close. His nose nudges into the side of David’s hair as he brings his mouth close to David’s ear, making David shiver and Patrick chuckle in response..

“I love that you packed my sweatshirt.”

David’s breath hitches at the husky rumble of Patrick’s voice so close to his ear, releasing his breath on a quick huff as Patrick’s lips brush a wet kiss at the edge of his jaw. Anticipation blooms like a runaway field of wildflowers beneath his chest and his thumb finds the hole in Patrick’s sweatshirt again, becoming an anchor of sorts as he turns his head in search of Patrick’s lips.

Their kiss feels charged, Patrick’s hot mouth warming David’s cold one with his hand holding firm at David’s jaw, angling his face just how he wants it as his tongue leads David’s into a well-practiced dance. Patrick’s neck is chilly against David’s fingers when he drags him closer, urging him down as David lets his back fall to the flannel throw covering their blanket of grass. Patrick pauses with his arms bracing himself over David’s chest, eyes warm and slightly glossy, breath just barely visible as it comes out in quick puffs in the space between them. He doesn’t say anything, just stares and David shifts impatiently, reaching up with the hand still anchored in the sweatshirt sleeve to cup Patrick’s cheek. Patrick’s eyes flutter shut for a brief moment as his head shifts, lips pressing a kiss into the sweatshirt covered palm of David’s hand before moving to kiss the gold ring on his exposed thumb. In that second, something passes between them, an unspoken something David can feel take root deep in his belly. Something he can’t quite name, but knows somehow will never leave him.

He’s thankful for the weight of Patrick’s body when it comes down to cover his, the solidness of him pressing David further into the grass as they both breathe, Patrick’s lips slowly sliding up David’s cheek towards his mouth. When they kiss again, it’s slow, the soft pillow of Patrick’s lower lip sliding against David’s tongue comforting and sensual and warming his blood to a gentle, rolling simmer. It’s impossible to keep his hands to himself, fingers sliding into the back pockets of Patrick’s jeans as he widens his legs and drags Patrick down deeper. The guttural “fuck” Patrick growls into his mouth just has him doing it again, and again, until they’re both panting, Patrick into the side of David’s neck and David up into the sky full of stars.

But then he feels Patrick’s lips go soft against his skin, pressing tiny kisses as his hips slow and legs stretch. He knows he’s trying to calm himself down and David lets him, sliding his hands up over the small of Patrick’s back to settle into the soft fabric of his sweater along his spine.

“I’ve never seen so many stars.”

David’s voice is crackly and has to clear his throat, prompting Patrick to stop his kissing and lift his head to look down at David’s face. He’s flushed from cheeks to ears, the tip of his chin slightly raw from David’s scruff and his lips kiss swollen and begging for more of David’s attention.

“Whenever I see a star, I always think of you,” Patrick whispers, his eyes darting away with apparent embarrassment, completely oblivious to David’s dumbstruck reaction. He’s never had someone say anything even remotely that romantic to him before, well, except for Patrick, but that conversation was during their one and only real fight and he doesn’t like to dwell on it. But it’s impossible to not feel gobsmacked when someone tells you that you make them feel right. How can someone’s heart ever come back from being told something that earth-shattering?

“Whaa...at? Why? How?”

He’s muttering and stuttering now, which needs to stop, so he just closes his mouth and implores Patrick to explain with widening eyes.

“Because of that sweater. The leather one with the white stars. The one you…”

“Oh god.” David covers his eyes and shakes his head, mortified to have that moment brought up. It might have won him Patrick back, but it’s not something he will ever repeat and hoped would never have been spoken about again.

“What? I realized just how much I was in love with you that night.”

Dropping his hands, David shoots Patrick an annoyed glare and gently shoves him so he can sit up. Patrick shuffles to the side, but just props his elbow on the blanket and looks up at David with an amused smile.

“Patrick, there is absolutely no way that’s true. I made an idiot out of myself.”

“Yeah, you did.”

David huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, not really happy about having to think about that night, or the days that led up to it.

“David, do you think you would have put yourself through that if you didn’t love me, too?”

“No.”

Oh.

He answered that so quickly he didn’t even really realize what he’d just admitted to.

“David.”

Hearing the gentle urging behind Patrick’s tone, David reluctantly looks down at him, feeling his jaw relax a bit at the look of utter fondness in Patrick’s gaze. And when Patrick reaches up and tugs on the sleeve of his sweatshirt, he slowly releases a long breath as he uncrosses his arms and eventually smiles as Patrick’s hand curls around his wrist and drags him back down onto the blanket. He lands in a heap on Patrick’s chest, but Patrick is quick to gather him into his arms, his strong hands finding the back of David’s head as he leans up to press a quick kiss to David’s lips.

“I’m stuck on your heart,” Patrick whispers in the space between their lips, prompting David to shake his head to keep the tears at bay before lowering his head to kiss that mouth from saying anything else too perfect for a response. The laugh Patrick can’t hold back has their kiss going slightly off kilter, but David just shifts his mouth to Patrick’s jaw, nibbling a path to his ear until he feels Patrick’s fingers slide up into David’s hair as the purposeful distraction settles in.

“Look up at the stars,” he mumbles against Patrick’s ear, hearing a rumbly “huh?” before burying his nose into the crook of Patrick’s neck, kissing his way down until he hits the collar of his sweater. Settling in, he tugs down on the material to reveal the sensitive spot right above Patrick’s collarbone and begins to kiss it over and over, adding the tip of his tongue to his gentle torture. Both of Patrick’s hands are in his hair now, fingers carding through the strands, tugging every once in a while when David’s lip suck his kiss-worried skin into his mouth. David’s just getting started though, determined to give Patrick a very different memory of him when he thinks about the stars.

#david x patrick #david rose #patrick brewer #schitt's creek #schitts creek #my sc fic #sweater weather #look up at the stars #david x patrick ff

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snarkomancy · 4 years

Text

The spell of teleprojection was tricky, the sorcerers were to speak with one voice, by joining hands and thoughts. Even then, it turned out to be a devilishly strenuous exercise, partly because the distance was so considerable. The clenched eyelids of Philippa Eilhart quivered, Triss Merigold panted, and sweat beads ran down the high forehead of Keira Metz. Only the face of Margarita Laux-Antille expressed no fatigue.

The small room plunged into semi-lit darkness, suddenly, a mosaic of light began to dance along the dark wood paneling. Outlined by a white glow, an orb appeared above the round table. While Philippa Eilhart chanted the last incantations, the orb came up right in front of her, on top of one of the twelve chairs placed around the table. An indistinct silhouette took shape inside it. The projection was not very stable, the image flickered, but it soon became clearer.

“Holy shit,” Keira muttered, wiping her forehead. “Do they not know of glamarye or any other beauty spells in Nilfgaard?” “Apparently not.” said Triss from the corner of her mouth. “They certainly have not heard of fashion either.” “Neither have they heard of make-up.” said Philippa quietly. “But don't say a word now, girls. And do not gape at her. We must stabilize the projection and greet our guest. Strengthen me, Rita.”

Margarita Laux-Antille repeated the formula of the incantation and gestured to Philippa. The image flickered several times, it started to lose its vague picture and unnatural glow, the contours and colours became more acute. The sorceresses were now carefully observing the silhouette that was facing them. Triss bit her lip and glanced at Keira.

The woman within the projection was pale and her complexion was ugly. She had bland, expressionless eyes, narrow bluish lips and a slightly hooked nose. She wore a bizarre, conical, rather crumpled hat. Thin, dark, greasy hair hung from underneath it. Her robes were loose and shapeless, black with a silver trim, and frayed at the shoulder making her look unattractive and neglected. They were embroidered with a circle and a crescent star which served as the only decoration worn by the Nilfgaardian sorceress. Philippa Eilhart rose, trying not to unduly expose her jewels, her laces and her cleavage.

“The venerable Lady Assire,” she said. “Welcome to Montecalvo. We are delighted that you have accepted our invitation.” “I accepted out of curiosity.” said the Nilfgaardian sorceress with an unexpectedly pleasant and melodious voice, instinctively adjusting her hat. Her hands were thin, marked with yellow spots, and her nails were broken and uneven, obviously bitten. “Only out of curiosity,” she reiterated, “however the consequences could indeed prove to be disasterous for me. I beg you to give me an explanation.”

“I will do so in a moment,” Philippa nodded, motioning the other sorceresses. “But before then, allow me to call the projections of the other participants of the meeting and make a cross-presentation. I ask a little patience.” The sorceresses united hands again and resumed their incantations. The air in the chamber rang like taut wire from the ceiling coffers and once again descended in a glowing haze, filling the room with flickering shadows. Above three of the unoccupied chairs, spheres of pulsating light began to form, the outlines of the silhouettes within becoming visible.

The first to appear was Sabrina Glevissig, wearing a provocatively low-cut turquoise dress with a large, standing lace collar, which formed a beautiful setting for her curly hair crowned with a brilliant diadem. Next to her, emerging from the misty light projection, was Sheala de Tancarville in a black velvet gown trimmed with pearls, her neck wrapped with a silver fox boa. The Nilfgaardian sorceress nervously licked her thin lips. Just wait for Francesca, thought Triss. When you see Francesca, little black rat, your eyes will pop out of your head. Francesca Findabair did not disappoint. Her dress was the colour of blood, revealing her appetizing form. She wore a necklace of rubies, an ambitious hairdo, and her doe eyes were encircled with keen elven makeup.

“Ladies, I wish you all welcome to Montecalvo,” said Philippa. “I took the liberty of inviting you here to address some issues of significant importance. I regret that we meet as teleprojections, however, due to the times and the distances between us, a real meeting would have been impossible. I, Philippa Eilhart, the mistress of this castle, as hostess and instigator of this meeting will handle the introductions. To my right, Margarita Laux-Antille, the head of the Academy of Aretuza. To my left, Triss Merigold, of Maribor, and Keira Metz, of Carreras. Next, we have Sabrina Glevissig, of Ard Carraigh and Sheala Tancarville of Creyden, representing Kovir. Then Francesca Findabair, known as Enid an Gleanna, the current ruler of the Valley of Flowers. And finally Assire var Anahid of Vicovaro, from the Empire of Nilfgaard. And now ...”

“And now I will say goodbye!” Sabrina Glevissig yelled, pointing at Francesca with her hand covered in rings. “You went too far, Philippa! I'm not going to sit at the same table as the damn elf, even as an illusion! She failed to clean the blood from the walls and floors of Garstang. The blood she and Vilgefortz spilled!” “I beg you to observe the proprieties and keep your cool.” Philippa leaned on the edge of the table with both hands. “Listen to what I have to say. I do not ask anything more. When I finish, each of you will decide whether to stay or leave. The projection is voluntary, it can be interrupted at any time. The only thing I ask of those who decide to leave, is to keep the secrecy of this meeting.”

“I knew it!” Sabrina moved so suddenly that for a moment she came out of the projection. “A secret meeting! Secret arrangements! In short, a conspiracy! And the intent is clear. Do you mock us, Philippa? First you demand that we keep this from our kings and our colleagues, which you have not seen fit to invite. And there sits Enid Findabair, by the grace of Emhyr var Emreis the reigning ruler of the elves of Dol Blathanna, who actively supports and arms Nilfgaard. That's not to say I'm not more amazed at the projection of a Nilfgaardian sorceress here in this room. Since when did the sorcerers of Nilfgaard cease to profess blind obedience and docile servility towards the Imperial power? And what secrets are we talking about here? If she's here, its at the knowledge and consent of Emhyr! At his command! She is the eyes and ears of the Emperor!”

“I doubt it.” said Assire var Anahid calmly. “Nobody knows that I participate in this meeting. I was asked in secrecy, which I have preserved and will maintain. It is also in my own interest to do so - if my participation came to light, I'd lose my head. For that is why there is such servility among sorcerers in the Empire, they have a choice between slavery and the scaffold. I have undertaken a risk by accepting your invitation. I did not come here as a spy and I have only one way to prove it, my own death. Just break Lady Eilharts request of secrecy. If the news of our meeting leaves these walls, I lose my life.”

“For me, the betrayal of this secret could also have unpleasant consequences,” Francesca smiled charmingly. “You would have a marvelous opportunity for revenge, Sabrina.” “I will get revenge in some other way, elf.” Sabrina's black eyes flashed ominously. “If the secret comes to light, it will not be through my fault or carelessness. Not mine!” “Are you implying something?” “Of course,” Philippa Eilhart interjected. “Of course, Sabrina gently reminds us of my work with Sigismund Dijkstra. As if she herself had never maintained any contact with the agents of King Henselt.” “There is a difference,” Sabrina growled. “I was not Henselt's mistress for three years, let alone his spies!” “Enough of this! Shut up!”

“I agree.” Sheala de Tancarville suddenly said outloud. “You've said enough, Sabrina. Enough already about Thanedd, enough about espionage and personal affairs. I do not come here to take part in such discussions or to listen to you spread your resentment and bombard us with insults. I'm not interested in the role of mediator, and if you invited me here with this intention, I will say it was to no avail. Indeed, I already suspect that I participate in vain, and I unnecessarily lose precious time at the great expense of my research work. However, I will refrain from making assumptions. Finally, I propose we call on Philippa Eilhart to begin, so we can finally learn the reason for this gathering. We will learn the role in which we play here. Then, without unnecessary emotions we will decide whether we should continue the show or lower the curtain. The discretion of which we are asked to commit, of course, obliges us all. And I, Sheala de Tancarville, will personally take appropriate action against the indiscreet.”

None of the sorceresses moved nor uttered a word. Triss did not for a moment doubt Sheala's warning. The Koviri recluse did not make threats she threw to the wind. “We give you the stage, Philippa. I ask that the venerable congregation remain silent until you are finished.”

Philippa Eilhart rose, rustling her dress.

“Dear sisters,” she said. “The situation is serious. Magic is threatened. The tragic events of Thanedd, thoughts that I remember with regret and reluctance, have shown that the effects of hundreds of years of seemingly conflict-free cooperation, can be forgotten in the blink of an eye, when excessive private interests and ambitions emerge. Today we are in a breakdown, a disorder, and we run into mutual hostility and distrust. This is what happens, when things begin to spiral out of control. To regain control, to prevent a terrible disaster, we should take a strong hand to the helm of this ship carried away by the storm. Lady Laux-Antille, Lady Metz, Lady Merigold and I have already discussed this matter and have reached an agreement. Rebuilding the Chapter and Council destroyed at Thanedd is not enough. Besides, no one is capable of rebuilding both of these institutions, and there is no guarantee that it will not be infected by the same disease that destroyed the previous one. We propose a completely different, secret organization that will serve only the affairs of magic, which will do everything in its powers to prevent a disaster. For if magic dies, this world will perish. Just as centuries ago, a world devoid of magic and the progress it brings will plunge into chaos and darkness, it will be drowned in blood and barbarity. All ladies present here are welcome to join our initiative, to actively participate in the proposed secret group. We have invited you here to hear your views on on this matter. I am done.”

“Thank you.” Nodded Sheala de Tancarville. “If the ladies will allow me, I will begin. My first question, Philippa; why me? Why was I invited? Repeatedly, I rejected my candidacy for the Chapter, and I refused a chair on the Council. Firstly, my work consumes me. Secondly, I thought then and still think that there are, in Kovir, Hengfors and Poviss others, more deserving of these honors. I ask, why I was invited here and not Carduin? Not Istredd of Aedd Gynvael, Tugdual or Zangenis?”

“Because they are men.” said Philippa. “The organization, which I have mentioned should be composed exclusively of women. And you Assire?” “I withdraw my question.” The Nilfgaardian sorceress smiled. “It was the same as Lady de Tancarville's. The answer satisfied me.”

“This smacks of feminist chauvinism.” sneered Sabrina Glevissig. “Especially from your mouth, Philippa, after your change of ... sexual orientation. I have nothing against men. In fact, I love men, and life without them I can not imagine. But ... After a moment's thought ... I believe this to be a wise concept. Men are mentally unstable, too sensitive to their emotions and you can not count on them in times of crisis.”

“It is true.” admitted Margarita Laux-Antille calmly. “We constantly compare the results of the of the Aretuza adepts to those boys from the school in Ban Ard and the comparison falls invariably in favour of the girls. Magic requires patience, delicacy, intelligence, common sense and tenacity. It needs one to bear calmly and humbly their setbacks and failures. Men lose to ambition. They always want what they know is impossible and unattainable, and they do not notice what is possible.”

“Enough, enough, enough.” Sheala pouted, though not hiding her smile. “There is nothing worse than scientifically manufactured chauvinism, shame on you, Rita! Although ... I agree also with the unisex structure of the proposed convention... or, if preferred, Lodge. As we understand this is for the future of magic, and magic is too serious a matter to entrust its fate to men.”

“If I may,” Francesca Findabair said in her melodious voice, “I would like us to stop the rambling speculation about the nature of the domination of our gender, this harbours no discussion. Let us instead focus on matters relating to the proposed initiative, the purpose of which is still not entirely clear to me. The timing is not accidental, and is clearly related to the war. Nilfgaard has invaded and forced the Northern Kingdoms to the wall. So behind the vague slogans that I have heard, is hidden understandably, the desire to reverse the situation and defeat Nilfgaard? And then to skin the audacious elves? If so, Philippa, we do not find common ground.”

“Is this the reason why I have been invited here?” Asked Assire var Anahid. “I do not devote much attention to politics, but I know that the Imperial army has the advantage over your troops. Aside from Lady Francesca and Madame de Tancarville coming from a neutral kingdom, all the ladies represent kingdoms which are hostile to the Nilfgaardian Empire. Do you expect me to see this magic word of solidarity, as an incentive for treason? I'm sorry, but I do not see myself in that role.”

Having finished her speech, Assire leant, as if to lay her hand on something that was not in the projection. Triss thought she heard meowing. “She has a cat!” whispered Keira Metz. “I bet he's black ...” “Not so loud.” Philippa hissed. “Dear Francesca, dear Assire. Our initiative should be absolutely apolitical, that is its basic premise. We will not be guided by the interests of races, kingdoms, kings and emperors, but the good magic and its future.”

“Driven by the good magic,” Sabrina Glevissig smiled mockingly, “but still forgetting to ensure the welfare of witches? And yet we know how our fellow sorcerers are treated in Nilfgaard. We talk of being apolitical, but when Nilfgaard wins and we find ourselves under Imperial power, we will all look like ...” Triss moved uneasily, Philippa let out a barely audible sigh. Keira looked down, Sheala pretended to adjust her boa. Francesca bit her lip. Assire var Anahid's face did not flinch, but was covered with a slight blush.

“I just wanted to say... It's a sad fate that awaits us all.” Sabrina finished quickly. “Philippa, Triss and I, all three of us were at Sodden Hill. Emhyr will make us pay, as we will pay forThanedd, and for the entirety of our involvement. But this is just one of the reservations that stops me from agreeing to the declared political neutrality of the convention. Does participation in it mean the immediate resignation of the active and political, after all, service that we act in now with our kings? Or will we remain in this service and serve two masters at once: magic and power?”

“When someone tells me that he is apolitical,”Francesca smiled, “I always ask which of the policies he is referring to.” “And you know for certain he does not mean the one that he follows.” said Assire var Anahid, looking at Philippa. “I am apolitical,” Margarita Laux-Antille raised her head. “And my school is apolitical. I mean all political types that exist!” “Dear ladies,” Sheala spoke. She had remained silent for a long time. “Remember that you are the superior sex. So do not behave like girls who are fighting over bowl of sweet treats on the table. The principle proposed by Philippa is clear. At least to me, and I still don't have enough reason to consider you to be less keen of mind than I am. Outside of this room, be who you want, and serve whom you want and for whatever reason you choose to, as faithfully as you wish. But when the convention is gathered, we will deal exclusively with magic and its future.”

“This is exactly how I imagine it.” Philippa Eilhart confirmed. “I know that there are many problems, as well as doubts and ambiguities. We will discuss them at the next meeting in which all will take part, not as a projection or illusion, but in their own person. Your presence will be regarded not as a formal act of accession to the convention, but as a goodwill gesture. We will decide together whether such a convention should be created. All of us. Fairly.”

- Baptism of Fire

#lore review #sisterhood is powerful || the lodge of sorceresses #long post #I LOVE THEM SO MUCH #sorry not sorry for spamming the dash like this but #this is EVERYTHING

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scribeofmorpheus · 5 years

Text

Pirouette Prologue

A Bodyguard AU!

Pairing: Bodyguard!Bucky x Reader

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: Violence and blood.

Taglist is open -comment or send an ask!

Abstraction. That is what drives the penultimate scene of your ballet production as a man in a devil costume sautés towards you in maladroit strokes.

Pointed toe facing forward, arms careened overhead in an arch, you wait patiently for your dance partner to hit his mark. Your breathing is soft and deep. A quiet, contemplative moment.

Then the music swells and the concerto grows darker, the tempo rises quicker and quicker in an ominous premonition.

The audience members hold their breath as this masquerading devil ensnares you within his callous touch. Under his epileptic caresses, you begin to move. Writhing and struggling as he chases after you once you break free.

Delicate steps meant to invoke the essence of innocence and fragility unfold in a sacred dance between two opposing forces. The dance escalates into a crusade between light and dark. Your movements are losing their delicateness, trading it in for a show of distress. His movements are a darker contrast to your own. Always a step behind. Always overshadowing your shadow. Morphing it into an inhuman silhouette.

Gasps leave agape mouths as a violin screams through the hot air in a flat note. Faint, beautiful melodies of a grand piano are drowned out by the cacophony of chaos –the distortion of the devil’s symphony.

Your skirmish grows more desperate, your movements becoming less fluid and more forceful. As the climax fast approaches, you feel your chest strain against your corset.

You swing your leg from front to back, tilting your upper body slightly backwards, opposite to the direction of your leg. The masked devil hovers over you, lips obstructed by hard, red plastic. With a chaste kiss, both your bodies tumble to the ground, folding into a death pose.

The music stops, the main stage lights turn on with a shuttering echo and suddenly, the whole theatre is stripped of its silence and replaced by thunderous applause.

Your dance partner rises from the ground and leans over to help you up. You bow and wave as rose petals shower at your feet. A blush sets on your face as your eyes begin to well up with pride.

This night, like every other night, was worth all the dislocated toes and worn-out shoes you’d suffered. Beyond a doubt.

Antoine, the director, saunters over, his flamboyant holographic coat shifting like plastic, “You two were spectacular out there!” He sends out blow kisses, a big elated grin on his middle-aged face.

“A true compliment to the genius behind our success,” your dance partner, Julian, replies.

On either side of you, the set crew walk past carrying several prop pieces to be returned to storage. Antoine is already focused on his phone when it beeps. “Oh, how enchanting! One of the columnists in the New Yorker just sent me a proof of his review.”

Julian arches a brow, hand peeling off his red mask completely, “Isn’t that against policy?”

Antione hushes him with a coy wink, “It’s only frowned upon when the reviews are less than stellar, and they aren’t! Now go and do… whatever it is young kids like yourselves do on a Friday night!”

You bit back a smile as you watched your director strut towards the set crew, barking orders in his pleasantly light tone.

“Hey, Y/N, you were great today,” Julian ruffles his jelled back hair, shooting you a dastardly smile. “Like always.”

You mimick his action and undo your bun, hair flowing downwards. The uncomfortable pull on your follicles subsiding. You take a breath before answering, “I’m only as good as my partner.”

He blushes, hands fidgeting as he walks with you towards your dressing room, “Listen, a few of us were planning on going out for drinks –to celebrate. We’d love to have the star of the show kick back a few shots with the rest of us.”

“I’d love to,” you place your hand on his shoulder, slightly annoyed at the fact you were going to have to cancel. Again.

Julian’s lips screw upwards, “I know that look, there’s a ‘but’ coming isn’t there.”

“But… my brother promised to take me out. He promised it would be a night to remember. One of his famous extravagant outings that starts with dinner and a bottle of overly expensive champagne, and ends with a drunk spur of the moment trip to Milan… again,” You giggle at the memory. “But have a few shots in my honour.”

Julian leans over and places a kiss on your cheek. Somehow it doesn’t feel nearly as chaste as the kiss from before. You clear your throat when his lips linger a little too long and he jumps back in a subtle and swift motion.

“See you during rehearsals then,” he stretches his arm muscles until they let out a satisfying pop as he makes his way to the adjoining dressing room.

Halfway through applying your mascara, your phone starts to vibrate against your propped up elbow causing you to gasp in freight and drag the wet, black brush across your one closed eyelid. You glance down at the screen trying to see who it is. The illuminated screen displays a blurry photo of Tony’s sleeping face partially covered by a green party hat with a fake twirly moustache scribbled on his upper lip in permanent ink. You beam a smile as your thumb taps on the screen, fond memories of his last New Year’s Eve party flashing by in a bright reel of happy laughs and multicoloured streamers.

“Hey, Wonton,” you call him by his nickname, bringing your phone to your ear. “You almost here or…?”

“Prima! Hey, sorry to do this to you again, but…��

A sigh fills the room. You know what’s coming. It’s par for the course with him lately. “Something’s come up, hasn’t it?”

“Impromptu meeting with the board, they’re still a little wary about the clean energy deal, you know how these suits can get.” He gives a speedy reply.

You slump back into your chair, your hand already armed with a face wipe, dragging the wet material across your downcast face. A smudge of black smears down the corner of your eye. You draw out the silence so he knows how unhappy you are with this sudden change of plans. A tactic you’d perfected since childhood.

After a beat, you answer him, “I can’t say I wasn’t looking forward to our dinner, but we all have jobs to do and Stark Industries pays the bills.”

Tony exhales and you can practically envision him pinching the bridge of his nose, “Look, I could ask Pep to go with you. I still have the reservation and she’s almost wrapped up here.”

“No, that’s alright. Talk to you later Wonton.”

“Later and congratulations, I hear your closing night was a big success. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there in person.”

You stare into the mirror, glaring at the forced smile that you have on show for no one but yourself. You’re trying to make yourself feel better, but it isn’ working. “I’m a big girl, I can stomach a little disappointment. Now go save the world.”

You chuck your phone onto the dresser and finish wiping off the evidence that you had spent a good fifteen minutes doing your make-up. A yawn slipping between pressed lips as you grab your coat and bag off the rack.

Maybe Julian and the others haven’t left yet.

The sound of your heels clomping down on the polished floor is very pronounced in the dimly lit studio. A shiver runs up your spine when you realise how hauntingly empty the building is. You don’t like being the last one to leave. This place always carries an eerieness to it.

You knock on Julian’s door, hoping he and the others are still around, but the silence persists. With another sigh, you decide to give up on the prospects of doing anything fun besides soaking your raw muscles in an Epsom salt bath for the rest of the night.

Yellow ochre is the shade of colour that streams off the alleyway street lamps behind the theatre. Empty food cartons and discarded newspapers tumble in the cold breeze. The faint stench of booze and urine and cigarettes staining the walls.

An unsettling sensation sinks to the bottom of your stomach, and seeing as how you already ate earlier, it isn’t hunger gnawing at your digestive muscle. Clouds of mist form when your warm breath meets the chilling air, the hairs on the nape of your neck stand erect –prickling with static and something else. You brace your arms around your waist, tucking your chin under the cover of your upturned coat’s collar. It feels like something is watching you in the obscurity of dark corners.

Like second nature, your pace quickens, heels echoing even louder in the cold night air. To your utter despair, just when you are about to turn the bend -into the safety of light- rough hands yank at the straps of your bag, pulling you back into the darkness.

Your body hits the ground, hard. Skin grazed apart leaving a raw ache on your knees and now twisted ankle. Your head is cracked open when it slams against the sharp edge of a dumpster. A stream of blood courses down from your brow, covering one eye in warm, red liquid. You let out a yelp, pain going unnoticed as your fight or flight instincts kick in.

In the midst of your scurry, you hear, but don’t see, a person shout in a gravelly voice, “Gimmie your purse and your jewellery, now!”

You reach into your coat for your phone, but your shaky fingers are unable to get a good grip and regrettably, your phone lands screen-side down onto the ground. A cracking noise letting you know the screen has shattered and so has all hope of calling for help. The pounding in your brain gets stronger the more panicked you become.

The imposing presence hovers closer, a sickly energy surrounding his large frame. What is happening now is a more savage re-enactment of your ballet, only this time you are not the one in control. You cannot foresee the turning of events before they transpire because you haven’t rehearsed this particular dance with the devil.

Your stomach tangles into itself, bile and acid burning at your throat as you try to scream. All senses are rendered inert from the loss of blood. Your body convulses from fear as that shadowy figure staggers closer –his movements are crude, hindered by inebriated muscles.

Using what last few senses you have left, you brace your head and recline in a foetal position –waiting for the worst of it to pass while you cower under the flimsy protection of shivering arms. Then you hear a struggle. Faint echoes of a grunt born from pain and surprise. Profanity being bellowed out of a clenching jaw, and not too soon after, you hear a heavy thud. The kind that reminds you of bones hitting into metal. It’s quiet now, except for the rattle of rolling trash cans.

“Are you alright?” a strong, concerned voice asks. “Do you need me to call you an ambulance?”

You peek through the cover of your arms catching sight of an ocean trapped within a set of sad eyes, a gentle hand stretching out towards you.

“Who…” the world spins faster on its axis, taking you along for the ride. Mouth turning dry and raspy, you try your words one more time. “Who are you?”

“Bucky,” the stranger says as his arms pull you onto his lap, half his face illuminated by the cold artificial blue of his cell phone. He plucks the hairs sticking to your bloody face away as he dials 911. “My name’s Bucky.”

Then everything goes black.

Tags: @hosiebarnes

Counterpart & AFWI tags: @fangirl-colo @dormousse @smallmarvel @ren-ni @sargentbucket @nikolett3 @wnygirl2012 @jentismyname @evilgeniuslabz-blog @myrabbitholetoneverland @sleepingspacedragon @500daysofbecky @reidreader @ladybugsfanfics @ninaminaromina @xstevenat

Permatags: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet @savethehoneeybees

#bucky barnes #bodyguard!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #marvel #mcu #avengers #bodyguard au #pirouette #Bucky AU

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knifeshoeoreofight · 5 years

Photo

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7

A03

(Here we are at the end!)

The holidays are very different for Sid, this year. This year he has Sofia running around the house in excitement and Zhenya beside him on the couch, an arm wrapped Sid’s shoulders, keeping him warm and grounded.

Sid’s mom comes into the kitchen to find him as he’s loading the dishwasher on Christmas Eve. She gives him a long hug, and when she pulls back she cups his face in her hands.

“You look happy,” she says, taking him in. “I’m so glad, Sid.”

“It hasn’t been long enough for me to feel this way, I keep thinking,” he admits to her.

“Well,” she says, as she adjusts Sid’s shirt collar. “I think there’s something to the expression, when you know, you know. Don’t be afraid of something good because it doesn’t look exactly like what society thinks a relationship trajectory should look like. Because to me? You look happy. You sound happy. And he seems like a wonderful man. That tells me this is a good, good thing.”

Sid gratefully kisses his mom’s cheek. “Thanks,” he tells her.

***

Sofia is getting the kitten for New Year’s. Zhenya wants to do the whole wrapped box-with-air-holes thing because he saw it in a movie somewhere. Sid picks up a festive-looking collar with a jingle bell and a tiny bow on it to complete the scenario.

Sid hadn’t understood when Zhenya had first told him about it. But he spent some time googling Russian New Year’s and now knows how big a deal it is.

It’s the wrong time of year to buy fireworks but he calls around frantically and as it turns out, Phil has some leftover sparklers from the Fourth of July in his garage.

Zhenya’s eyes go wet with tears when Sid breaks out the sparklers, and again when he notices the little paper Ded Morozes and Snowmaidens Sid printed out and hung on the tree with loops of ribbon.

He kisses Sid, deep and sure.

***

On New Year’s Eve Zhenya kicks Sid out of the kitchen and takes over. He sits Sid down in the breakfast nook and doesn’t let him help. Zhenya is a jovial hurricane, using what seems like every pot and bowl and kitchen tool Sid owns. He’s got a dish towel flung over one shoulder and is singing along to Russian pop, badly. Sid loves him so much.

They eat ridiculous amounts of Russian food and Sid gets pink and giggly with vodka.

Sofia is given her kitten, and when she opens the box, her jaw drops and she turns wide eyes to her father and to Sid.

“For me? For keep?” she asks incredulously. And then when she’s told the kitten is hers, she cries big, emotional tears, and both Sid and her father get strangling hugs.

Sid laughs softly as he pats her back. “You okay, sweetheart?”

She hiccups. “The baby is so beautiful!” She wails into Sid’s neck. Sid trades smiles with Zhenya and his family over her head.

***

The period of time after the holidays always feels a little strange and empty. It’s a quiet time for the farm, a snowbound lull between the holiday season and spring planting.

“Sad?” Zhenya asks him, stepping up behind Sid where’s he’s standing looking out the window, to wrap him up in his arms and hook his chin over Sid’s shoulder. “Miss family?”

“That’s part of it,” Sid says. “But I’m not sad, really. It’s just a weird time of the year.”

“Lots of time for think,” Zhenya agrees.

Sid folds his arms over Zhenya’s. “Speaking of thinking.” He pauses, a little afraid. But only a little. “I know it’s probably too fast, and maybe I’m a little crazy to consider it, but, have you been thinking any more about housing?”

Zhenya is very still for a long moment, and then he nuzzles Sid’s neck, pressing a kiss to the thin skin below his ear. “What you thinking, Sid?”

“About the new year, what that means. About what I want the year to look like. Whenever I think about it, all I can picture is you. You and Sofia here, with me.”

More kisses, deep and fervent, to the back of his neck, his hair, and then when Zhenya turns him in his arms, to his cheek and the side of his nose. Finally, Zhenya makes it to his lips. Sid yields easily to him, giddy happiness rising in him at the “yes” he feels in the touch of Zhenya’s mouth and the slide of his hands over Sid’s back and down his sides.

But just to be sure, when Zhenya moves once again to his neck, Sid asks.

“Yes?” It comes out as a sigh.

“Yes, Sid,” Zhenya murmurs into his skin. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

***

He doesn’t tell Zhenya, but he gets a can of pale blue paint at the hardware store and repaints what used to be his guest room. He sponges clouds onto the ceiling in white, and takes apart the dark, heavy old furniture to paint it in shades of dusty pink.

He figures Sofia will hopefully still like the blue walls when she’s older, and the furniture can be repainted or sold if she decides she’s not into pink anymore later.

He enlists the help of Vero to find a fluffy white bedspread with little gold horse silhouettes all over it, and a lamp with a ceramic unicorn as the base. He tries to have all of it be kind of realistic, not too cartoony, so it’ll grow with her. He tries to think of stuff girls would like, like wooden pegs for scarves and necklaces and things, and a felt bed for her kitten shaped like a cat head with ears.

He manages all of it without Zhenya seeing it, and it helps fill the long winter hours.

He worries a lot about it it being presumptuous, or it not being his place. But he wants Sofia to feel comfortable and at home.

The same for Zhenya. He clears half of his closet, and half the dresser drawers. He finds himself worrying about little things, such as if Zhenya will like the bedspread or if there’s enough room on the dresser for any pictures Zhenya will want to put up.

When he calls Taylor to fret at her, she tells him to relax.

“If he feels the way I’m pretty sure he does, minutia like that won’t matter,” she soothes.

“I just want him to feel like it’s his home too,” Sid says.

“Your house is awesome, don’t even worry about it, Squid.”

Sid tries to take her word for it.

***

Zhenya and Sofia don’t have a lot of belongings, thanks to the moving around they’ve done. They have a a couple suitcases between them, and a handful of boxes, mostly full of books Zhenya needs for teaching. Everything fits in the back of Sid’s pickup.

“Had to get rid of almost everything, lots of my favorite books,” Zhenya says, sadness tight around his eyes and pulling at the corners of his mouth. Sid leans over to kiss him across the gear shaft, and vows to himself to put in a set of built in bookshelves in what used to be the formal parlor of the farmhouse. They don’t need it, what with the cozy family room. It’ll make a great office for Zhenya though, with its windows looking over the fields. After that, they can start rebuilding his book collection. There’s extra income coming in from the partnership with Tanger’s distillery, not to mention Zhenya’s teaching salary. They can manage it.

“What you smiling at?” Zhenya asks, bemused.

Sid uses the opportunity presented by a stop sign to lean over and kiss Zhenya again.

“Just happy.”

***

Ref dances happily around them as they get everything inside. There’s mud and slush tracked in and Zhenya makes himself anxious about it until Sid reassures him that it’s easy enough to clean, just part of winter where they live.

“Let’s get Sofia settled first, eh?,” Sid says, twitchy with excitement. He so hopes she likes her room. “I set the old guest room up for her.”

They troop up the stairs, and Sid swings the door open. It looks good, he hopes. He’d shut her kitten in here earlier and he’s asleep in a little ball on the bedspead, and there’s snow-bright light coming in through the sheer curtains Vero picked out.

Sofia gasps, and steps slowly inside, like she’s afraid to believe it’s real.

Zhenya has seen what the guest room had looked like before. He looks around, mouth agape, as Sofia bounces around the room, exclaiming over her kitten and the unicorn lamp and the ceramic horse on the windowsill.

“It’s Puck!” She exclaims. Sid laughs.

“That was my Aunt Esther’s. She and my Uncle Jack had a lot of draft horse knick knacks. I thought you’d like that one.”

“Sid.” The rough edge to Zhenya’s voice makes Sid start upright from where he’s been crouching to talk to Sofia.

“Wha—“ he starts to ask, heart in his throat, but it’s broken off by Zhenya grabbing hold of him and pulling him in to an embrace so tight it’s just this side of painful.

“Zhenya,” Sid wheezes, and Zhenya’s arms loosen instantly.

“Sorry Sid, sorry,” he says. “Just—don’t know how—“ he takes a shuddering breath and murmurs something that doesn’t sound like straight Russian or English into Sid’s hair. Sid waits patiently for him to gather his words.

“Keep wondering and keep wondering, how you real,” he finally says.

“I could say the same about you,” Sid says, thinking of the time before he’d met the both of them. The loneliness of it. He rests his head on Zhenya’s shoulder and lets Zhenya sway them a little, like they’re dancing without any music.

Over Zhenya’s shoulder he can see Sofia curled up around her kitten on her new bed, eyes bright as she smiles at the both of them.

***

It’s a busy morning, Sid’s been up since dawn doing chores. When he comes back into the house, Zhenya is up, sleepy eyed, hair standing on end as he hunts for the messenger bag he takes to work. Sofia is at the kitchen table supposedly eating breakfast but actually trying to feed Ref bits of toast.

“Living room, babe,” he tells Zhenya, dropping a kiss on the top of his head. “You were grading papers in there last night, remember?”

Zhenya groans. “Essays so bad, Sid. So bad. Tiny freshman babies are hopeless.”

Sid laughs as he checks the coffeemaker and digs Zhenya’s travel mug out of the cupboard. “Good thing they have you, then.”

Zhenya grins at him. “Sofia and me already feed cats and Ref. You going to meet Kris today?”

“Yeah, later. Need anything from town?”

“Out of shaving cream.”

Sid adds it to the shopping list on the fridge and noisily kisses Sofia’s cheek. “Ref shouldn’t have that, hon. Where’s your backpack?”

“I pack it already,” Sofia says. “Can Ref come in the car?”

“He need to keep Sid company,” Zhenya says. “So he’s not lonely. It’s important job.”

“Ref,” Sofia says, solemnly putting her hands on either side of the dog’s face. “Be nice for Sid.”

Ref whines and licks her face, because Sofia has become his favorite person in the universe and he adores her.

Sid stands on the porch and waves them off. Pretty soon school will be out for Sofia, and she’ll be home all day. He’s looking forward to it. On the weekends she’s his shadow, and she loves helping him out as much as he decides is safe for her to do.

Six months, he thinks. Sofia and Zhenya have been living at the farm for six months now. It’s June, and the apples are starting to show hints of the colors they’ll blaze with in September.

It shouldn’t have worked out this well, by all the common wisdom about relationships. It hasn’t been picture perfect every step of the way. And yet. He’d buy Zhenya a ring tomorrow, if he gave in to his impulses.

Reminding himself to be patient is the hardest part of all of this, and it’s a burden light enough.

***

In the evening he has Zhenya and Sofia both to help out with evening feed and putting all the animals up for the night.

Dinner is quiet, but content, as Zhenya recounts a ridiculous department meeting and Sofia tells about the book her teacher read them today. Sid updates Zhenya on the state of the orchards and the u-pick berry fields.

“That and produce stand this year,” Zhenya says. “Glad you have Jake to help.”

“For sure.” Sid eyes Sofia. “Eat those peas, sweetheart. Those are the ones you helped me with, remember? Remember the little baby plants we started in the sun porch?”

Sofia frowns at the vegetables on her plate but starts to eat them.

Sid is just telling Zhenya that another Amazon package of books came for him when Sofia interrupts them,

“Is Sid my dad?” she asks, and Sid can’t breathe.

“Is that what you want?” Zhenya asks her gently.

“We read book yesterday,” she says, frowning thoughtfully. “And there’s a boy who have a papa and a daddy. I have a Papa. So is Sid my dad?”

Zhenya looks over at Sid, eyes soft, expression saying that it’s up to them. “What do you want Зайка?” he asks Sofia, still looking at Sid.

Sofia looks at her father; then at Sid. “Do daddies go away?” she asks, voice small. Sid’s heart aches. She has to be thinking of her mom.

He reaches out for Zhenya’s hand as an unspoken question. Zhenya takes it, and looks back at him, steady and certain.

“No,” Sid says, voice rough. “I’m not going anywhere. And I— if you want to call me that, I would be so happy—“

She catapults herself off of her chair and into his arms. He rocks her back and forth a little, feeling too big for his skin, like what he’s feeling is filling the room.

“Dad,” she whispers into his shirt, and he hides his tears with a kiss to her hair, feeling Zhenya’s hand settle warm on the back of his neck.

***

Epilogue- a year and a half later

They’re married in the spring, when their orchards are foaming with pink and white blossoms.

There are lights strung up between the trees as twilight falls blue and heavy. Candles flicker in glass jars all up and down the long tables they’ve all gathered around to eat at.

The night is laughter and music and the heady bubbles of champagne. At one point Zhenya is called upon to make a speech. He raises his glass and smiles down at Sid, eyes soft and red-rimmed from all the emotion of the day.

“First time I’m see Sid, know he’s special. Second time I’m meet him, know it’s hopeless, know I’m going to fall in love. We dating for one month when I’m start thinking about how good a ring look on his finger. Nobody else I want to spend life with, nobody else be such a good father to my daughter.”

Sid kisses Zhenya fiercely as soon as he’s back within reach, then buries his face in Zhenya’s shoulder until he’s composed enough to face everyone again.

There’s a furious tinkling of silverware against glasses and more cries for a speech and so he clears his throat and tries to articulate what he’s feeling.

“I, uh. I always felt like something was missing. Thought it was something I was never really going to find, and that I’d have to resign myself to living without.”

He feels Flower reach over and grip his shoulder in comfort. “Then, I find out that missing thing is you. You and Sofia. You—”

His voice cracks, and when he goes on it’s hoarse with feeling. “You both make me so happy. So, so happy. I love you, so much.”

It’s Zhenya’s turn to pull Sid into a kiss, and Sofia scrambles out of Taylor’s lap to climb into Sid’s and nestle against his chest.

The speeches continue, and as Jack recounts some embarrassing high school memory, Sid looks around, as the smiling, candle-lit faces, at the beautiful trees, at his horses grazing peacefully in the falling dusk beyond the lights. At the glowing faces of his husband, and his daughter.

Sid takes a deep breath, perfumed with the scent of apple blossoms, and lets the deep happiness of the night settle into his body, and wrap itself warmly around him.

#sidgeno #sidney crosby/evgeni malkin #hockey rpf #if wishes were #dana writes a thing

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builder051 · 5 years

Text

Shards of psycho

Creedless Assassins (Nat and Clint, pre-Avengers). Set approx. 2002. Contains references to self-harm and self-induced vomiting in a non-eating disorder context.

_____

Oh, she's sweet but a psycho

A little bit psycho

At night she's screamin'

"I'm-ma-ma-ma out my mind"

Oh, she's hot but a psycho

So left but she's right though

At night she's screamin'

"I'm-ma-ma-ma out my mind

--Ava Max

_____

“Shards o’ Glass popsicles are for adults only.”

“What the fuck…?” Nat stares at the words fading to black on the TV screen. They’re not the same words she’s hearing. She isn’t sure if it’s a test or if she’s going nuts.

“Geez.” Clint steps out of the bathroom, shirt untucked and tie draped over one shoulder. “Ok.” He ducks between Nat and the television. The blue glow of the next commercial illuminates a stubborn cowlick on the top of his head. The individual hairs wiggle in the static pull as he leans close to the box and looks for the power button. “You know that’s not real, right?”

Clint succeeds in turning off the TV, then crosses his arms and leans against the wall beside it. “Popsicles covered in broken glass? It’s a ploy to get people to quit smoking.”

“Huh.” Nat nods as if she understands. She can fool most people with a little sprinkle of faux sincerity, but Clint knows her too well. He narrows his eyes and Nat can practically see him noting the tells—her stance a touch too symmetrical, her motion a smidge too smooth.

“What’s the problem?” he asks. He flicks his gaze back to the blank TV screen, then looks at Nat again, his brows knitting in shock and concern. “You don’t want one, do you?”

Nat doesn’t rush to answer. If she says no in a hurry, Clint will only see through her. He will if she says no at all. So instead she matches his squint and glams onto the furthest fact she can without crossing the threshold into outright evasiveness. “You’ve seen that before?”

Clint nods. “You haven’t?”

Nat shakes her head, the motion much more natural. It’s almost embarrassingly so, as if she were born to be defiant.

“It’s on all the time,” Clint says with a laugh. “Truth media, I think?” He shrugs. “Something partnership for a drug-free America.”

“Right,” Nat scoffs. It would be absurdly petty to use the fact that she isn’t American to rationalize her penchant for dangerous behaviors. Even stupid ones, like slicing open her tongue for a lick of artificial strawberry. She imagines the juice running down her chin, thick and syrupy and mixed with blood. It’s not a hard image to draw up, and not entirely unappealing. Kind of like the pack of Marlboros at the bottom of her purse.

“What, don’t you watch TV on your days off?” Clint’s beginning to look incredulous.

“Yeah, of course.” Nat gives her hair a toss, the auburn waves dipping into her peripheral vision. It doesn’t take much of a stretch of imagination to turn the flash of scarlet into spray from a bullet wound. “I catch the news. Sometimes.” She steps closer to Clint, grinning manically. “You just think I’m weird because you watch too much.”

Nat uses both hands to smooth down Clint’s unruly hair, but it springs back up the moment she removes them. “I’m pretty sure only Cartoon Network does this much damage.”

“Hey, I don’t—” Clint starts, but Nat cuts him off and pushes him to sit on the edge of one of the beds.

“We’ve slept in the same room. Don’t lie to me.”

“Fine. Guilty.” Clint’s cheeks go pink. “Let’s not bring that up half an hour before my wedding, alright?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Nat says sarcastically. “You going all stodgy family man already? I thought you’d at least make it through the honeymoon before you gave up the ghost.”

Nat makes to head into the bathroom for a wet comb, but Clint grabs her arm. His calloused hand wraps all the way around her wrist and then some. “Hey,” he says, his smile slowly dropping into something more serious. “Nothing’s gonna change, ok?” Clint blinks, and Nat sees her silhouette reflected back in his eyes. “I’m not giving up the ghost. Alright Casper?” The corners of his mouth spring back into a grin.

Nat doesn’t want to smile, but she can’t help herself. It started off as a learned response, but now it’s her natural reaction when she’s about to cry.

“Here.” Clint gives her arm a tug, and Nat trips into his knees. He pulls her onto his lap and presses a soft kiss to her cheek. A chaste, brotherly kiss, but a kiss nonetheless.

Nat counts the seconds on her exhale, pushing her lungs until they’re completely empty, then picturing a diamond-bright shard boring a puncture to keep them from filling again.

“You can’t wear your tie like that.” She yanks on the end, intending to hold it up like a noose, but unsecured, the find grey silk slips off Clint’s shoulder and onto the floor. Nat hops down to retrieve it, not sorry for the excuse to break contact. As soon as they’re apart, though, she wants to touch him again. Or at least get close. “you can’t wear your hair like that, either,” she says.

“Who made you the fashion police?” Clint complains, though he stands and moves back toward the bathroom. Willingly, it seems.

“Um. You?” Nat offers. “Unless it was Laura.”

“Yeah.” Clint starts to laugh. “Like I said. Guilty.”

“Come on.” Nat pushes him against the bathroom counter and yanks his collar into place so she can get to work on the tie. A subtle buzzing comes from the mirror, and Nat realizes it’s vibrating against the wall. She doesn’t have to look up at Clint’s face to know they’ve made a silent pact to ignore whatever’s going on in the room next door.

“You gotta learn how to do this yourself.” Nat tells him, giving his tie a final adjustment and starting on his hair.

“I will, Clint promises. “I have, like, 20 minutes left to be a stupid bachelor. I’ll shape up tomorrow.”

Nat should grin at the joke, but instead she frowns and checks her watch. “Twenty minutes?” she says. “Try ten. Rule number one: never trust the clock on the hotel coffee pot.”

“Shit,” Clint mutters. He drops his chin and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Early is on time and on time is late.”

“Hey.” Nat dampens her fingers under the tap and smooths his hair again. She doesn’t mean for it to be a comforting motion, but it is anyway. It’s an equal swap, her confidence for his concern. It makes Nat feel a little better to see him losing his cool, and that makes her the guilty one. She deserves a Shards o’ Glass Pop instead of whatever they’re serving at the reception downstairs.

“You’re fixed,” Nat says when Clint’s hair is arranged neatly. “You’re good. Go downstairs and get your girl.”

“Thanks. I know what you mean, but…” Clint gives her an anxious smile. “I’m already with my girl.”

“Don’t let anyone else hear you say that,” Nat warns. But her cheeks twitch into dimples again. Because she feels like bawling again.

“You know what I meant, too,” Clint insists. “Ghost girl.”

And Nat does. They could never really be a couple. It would break up their partnership for one, turning them into the kind of husband and wife who rarely see each other, busy with stressful jobs and fighting over whose turn it is to take out the trash. If either of them is even home to do it. That one time they fucked is always going to be just that. One time. It’s probably better that way; no repeat performance to spoil the memory.

Laura’s going to be in for a rough life. Nat knows she knows it. She’s stronger than Nat is, knowing it and choosing it anyway. Nat isn’t sure if she envies her for it or hates her. The indecision makes her stomach hurt.

Clint takes his suit jacket from the hanger on the back of the door. “Alright,” he says as he slips it on. “I can do this.” He holds out his hand to Nat. “You ready?”

“Uh, yeah, one minute,” she waffles. “You go down. I’ll be there in a sec.” She quickly glances around for an excuse. She picks up a tube of mascara from beside the sink. “Just gonna touch up.”

“Ok.” Clint backs out of the bathroom. “But hurry. On time is late, remember?”

“Your opinion of my short-term memory is insulting.” That’s more like her usual affect.

“Yeah, yeah.” Clint waves his hand dismissively. “See ya down there.”

“Ok.” Nat stays put in front of the mirror until she hears the door to the room close. She keeps listening until she loses Clint’s footsteps at the bank of elevators at the end of the hall.

The people next door are still boning. Clint’s getting married in under ten minutes. And Nat’s going to explode.

She stabs herself hard in the thigh with the hard plastic cap on the mascara. It puts a dent in the sharp crease of her trousers, but it doesn’t hurt. Not enough.

“Fuck,” she breathes. She wants to put a good slice in the inside of her arm. Clint’s razor is there on the counter, tempting her, but blood on her sleeves would be a dead giveaway. Nat chews her tongue, thinking again of the commercial. It’s stupid. She’s stupid.

Nat’s stomach clenches. She crosses to the toilet in two steps and leans down, barely getting her fingers past her teeth before hot bile splashes into the water. She tastes copper mixed with the acid, and when she looks down, a thin veil of rust red swirls with the pale yellow.

Nat shouldn’t feel triumphant. Biting through her tongue or aggravating an ulcer is no cause for celebration. But there’s too much other celebration going on today. Nat needs the counterweight.

She tears off a length of toilet paper and wipes her mouth, then shakily stands up and washes her hands. Nat glances at her delicate gold watch. Three minutes left. It’s enough time, but barely.

She takes a deep breath, willing her diaphragm to stop trembling. She can do this. She’s done harder things. Standing with her friend through a 15-minute ceremony should be nothing. Nat picks up her neat black heels and tucks the room key into her back pocket. She steps into the hallway and runs for the stairs. The elevators are too slow. Plus the privacy of the stairwell will give her a chance to dry her tears.

#creedless assassins #mcu #marvel #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #black widow #clint barton #hawkeye #angst #sickfic #mental health tw #self harm tw #emeto #emetophilia #emotional hurt/comfort #canon ships and all that jazz #laura barton

14 notes · View notes

stylessemantics · 6 years

Text

I O U

In which Harry’s sort of babysitting his cousin at a party, but y/n is right there making his self-control dissolve, so at the end of the night, Harry guesses he owes y/n an orgasm.

Enjoy!

- I O U -

Everything was too loud.

The music, the people, the urges.

It was a crazy night and Harry couldn’t say everything had sank in just yet.

He had downed a few drinks upon arriving at the place, and talked to some friends while at it, without paying them much attention. He had other things in mind, the biggest one was how was he getting away with hiding the biggest hard-on of his life from everyone. Well, everyone except y/n . She was there, giving him a look that let him know she knew.

Of course she did. She had caused it.

They hadn’t seen each other in a while but she never failed to make him hot under the collar – and it didn’t help that all Harry could think of was the last time they saw each other, during which y/n was between his legs – and before he could act and convince her of a quickie in one of the rooms of the house, his cousin had interrupted him. Only Harry had this bad of a luck. His cousin was a freshman and this was his first party, so he immediately tried to impress people by drinking and being loud and trying way too hard, and Harry needed to step in before he did something incredibly stupid.

He rolled his eyes at his pain, sighing in exasperation. Any longer and he would burst, he was ready to go home and jack off or something. Anything other than being there sipping cheap beer and acting like he cared if his cousin got drunk off his ass – except Harry cared, a little, enough to not want anything bad to actually happen to him.

But thankfully, y/n seemed just as hung up on the last time they saw each other as Harry, because after a long, painfully slow fifteen minutes after their first attempt at a conversation – read: flirting – was interrupted, she walked over and started talking to him. Lips grazing his ear with how close she got to say her part, making shivers run down Harry’s spine. He would be caught dead before he admitted it, but y/n was his favourite. He didn’t do “dating” or anything of the sorts, instead having fun with whichever girl he could and wanted to, but, Lord had y/n charmed him. She probably was a witch, making him want no one else but her giving him pleasure, and he craved to give it back to her too. “So, you were saying?” she said, loud enough to be over the music, but not so that she was actually screaming in his ear, keeping some sex-appeal to her actions. Harry smirked. “I’m not sure. Refresh my mind” “hmmm, something about how good I felt?” Harry’s eyebrows arched. He’d said that. He’d said it loud and clear that she had taken him expertly, riled him up and brought him to a climax faster than he could control. “Maybe we could do that again?” “Now, now, y/n... Someone’s a little horny I see...” “Yeah... you” she bit back with a smirk that sent his cheeky flirty one to the trash. She was clever, fast on her toes, ready with a comeback before anyone had a chance to reply. Harry liked that. The wits she had about her made her incredibly alluring, to the point where Harry was sure he would crawl behind her if she asked so.

Some different song blasted through the speakers and two of y/n’s friends came rushing with excited grins and squeals, asking her to go dance. Y/N agreed with a youthful smile, handing Harry her almost empty cup. Before she turned around to sway to the makeshift dance floor – just a furniture-clear space where everyone else was dancing – she pressed her lips to the edge of his jaw, where she knew Harry would cave, and she whispered the words Harry wanted to hear. “Upstairs. Ten minutes.”

Harry’s knee bounced the first seven minutes. He wasn’t sure whether he should replay the image that was y/n riding him a week ago, to keep his erection, or if he should let it go, knowing well enough that y/n would give him another one – and a little more – in three minutes. He watched his cousin be silly and dance and drink, and he rolled his eyes chuckling at the skinny lad’s antics. At least the dude was having harmless fun. Will he be embarrassed the following morning when someone shows him the video of how awfully he danced, and how Jenny Stevens had turned his drunk self down? Yes, he would, but Harry figured – and hoped – his cousin would also learn a lot from that video and this whole experience, so he ignored it. Everyone had that awkward freshman year story, this was it for his cousin, and who was Harry to take it away from him?

At the nine minute mark, he got up from the couch where he had stationed himself after y/n left him. He saw her silhouette walk up the stairs and he knew. He tapped his friend Niall on the shoulder. “Hey, man, look after Austin for a bit, yeah?” “What? I’m no babysitter” Harry rolled his eyes annoyed and continued to scream to Niall’s face. Someone had turned the music up, and by bloody Jesus, Harry wanted to know if they were going deaf already. “Just check up on him a bit, he won’t get in trouble, he’s too awkward” “Where are you going?” Harry blanked, letting out an exhausted sigh to gain time. “Christ, Ni... I’m... Gonna get a drink and some food? And I need a wee if you need to know” Niall was the one to roll his eyes this time, waving his hand at Harry as if saying ‘fine, go away’ and returning his attention to his drink and the conversation around him.

Finally. Harry thought while climbing up the stairs. Fucking finally. He saw y/n by the end of the hall, and when she saw him she gave him a smirk and entered the room closest to her. Harry rushed behind her, blood coursing through his veins at high speeds.

She pressed her mouth to his when he walked inside, not even allowing him to close the door proper behind him. Harry moaned against her lips, taking hold of her hips and pressing her closer to his frame, turning them around to trap her between a wall and his chest, and reaching over to close and lock the door, engulfing them in darkness. In their hurry they had walked into a small bathroom and Harry turned on the light, wanting to see y/n’s pretty face when he brought her to her climax in a bit. “Hmm, you’re such a bad influence, y/n” He said between kisses and licks and gropes. “Why’s that?” “Making me leave my drunk little cousin for your pleasure.” He tsk-ed after pulling apart. Eyeing her with a hungry stare and a deep smirk. “Naughty, very naughty” “Well, you didn’t have to agree” she teased playfully, tugging at the hem of his shirt, wanting the weight of his frame over her again, and the fabric off his body. “Oh, but I did. How could I refuse your horny pout?” y/n gasped, faking offense, as if she didn’t have the horniest pout when she talked to him. Harry chuckled, allowing his shirt to be removed over his head and wrapping y/n’s legs around his hips, making sure to sink his once-more growing member, to her centre. “I guess we’re both at fault then” she whispered to his lips, barely touching hers to his hungry mouth, and with that she bit down on his lower lip, hands roaming down his body to unclasp his pants and snake her hand under the fabric to touch him. Immediately making him jump and shiver.

There it was again, that delicate hand with a gentle, sensual touch Harry was missing deep down. Harry made it his mission to scatter kisses around her neck, leaving little marks here and there. Her dress was riding up her thighs and he made sure to smack and grip the supple skin that showed. “Where do you want me, Harry” she whispered to his ear. He was going to faint. The music from downstairs was muffled, fading away in his trance, as if it wasn’t as loud as he knew it was, but he could feel his heart beat almost in sync with the fast song, y/n was driving him insane. All of his senses were clogged with her, and here she was, being such an nice obedient girl, wanting to pleasure him. He sighed content, how could he ever want more?

See?, he thinks, this was the stupid sorcery she pulled on him that had him whipped against his will.

“I want me down your throat, love” he said, placing her feet back down and tugging at her hair, making her chin tilt up, granting him space to finish sucking a dark purple mark at the base of her throat, where all of him would be running down through in a matter of minutes.

Harry loved that Y/N was funny, she was considerate, she was gorgeous, she was nice, and she was currently on her knees, proving she was also very, very naughty, just how Harry liked her. She finished undoing his pants, obediently tugging away until he was freed from the confines of his tight briefs and resting on the curve of her cupid’s bow. Y/n moved her hair back, off her shoulders, and placed her hands on his thighs, squeezing lightly. Her tongue poked out, licking her lips and making her pretty mouth glisten right before she opened wide, letting his weighty shaft drop on her bottom lip, ready for Harry to guide himself in.

He did with shaky breaths, a moan caught in the middle of his throat, only coming out when she closed her mouth around him and sucked. Her fingers tapped at his skin, running up and down his legs and towards his V-line, tickling him and making his eyes roll to the back of his head when her tongue circled around him, filling him with absolute pleasure.

“Fuck” he sighed. Her mouth was working wonders around his cock, had him panting in seconds as she bobbed her head up and down slowly, dragging out his bliss. Harry tugged at her hair, making her moan. The look on her face was everything Harry needed. Her eyes were closed and her cheeks red. She was enjoying it just as much as Harry and he could tell. He could tell by the way there was a smile hidden in her features even as she sucked and licked. He could tell by her small moans and how she was taking her time, savoring him.

Arms extended over her frame, hands placed flat on the wall supporting him, he looked down at her when she let him go with a pop. Gorgeous face and wet lips, a string of cum connecting her to the reddened head as her hands massaged him, squeezing the right amount. God, she was so good at this. She didn’t just suck him off, she gave him a whole show. She licked a stripe from the base of his cock to the top.

“Oh, look at you, y/n... So pretty like that, with my cock in your mouth” Harry wiped his thumb across her lip, the way she looked so innocent glancing up at him, made shivers run down his spine. “Go on, pet...” she slid him inside again, engulfing him in warmth. “Let me fuck that pretty mouth of yours” and he started moving his hips back and forth, taking a hold of her hair as he fucked her mouth properly, making sure to touch the back of her throat with each thrust. Y/N edged him on with moans and pinching the skin on his legs.

The movements quickened after Harry took control, searching for his bubbling climax. He had been horny for her all night now, and finally here he was, making her gag on his length, a sight for sore eyes.

As he felt his orgasm slowly take over him, he pulled himself from her begging lips, her chin coming forth in search for more, she wanted him weighting down her tongue some more, but Harry tsk-ed, keeping her at a distance by her hair, his free hand grabbing his glistening member as he pumped slowly. Just cause he wanted to cum down her throat didn’t mean he would do it without full permission, and even though he knew that she wanted it, he just enjoyed the look on her face when she begged for him, so he thought he’d make her beg a little. “Harry!” y/n exclaimed when he wouldn’t let her continue. “Where do you want me, love?” it was his time to ask, but the smirk on his face let her know he already knew the answer. “Here–” She opened up wide – “please, Harry” “You sure?” he teased, and she whined for a response, nails digging into his skin as she tried to get him back inside her, not wanting to give up the taste, eyebrows furrowed in a cute pout, resembling a kid throwing a tantrum and Harry chuckled. “Fine” and with a tight hold of her chin he pushed himself back in, making sure to make her gag as he sank his hips and drove himself deeper and deeper. He kept his strong hold around her face which helped him make her keep her lips closed tight around him, he thrusted a couple more times, taking advantage of the smugness “You better take all of it... Not a drop gone to waste, y/n” he muttered between pants and short intakes of air as his orgasm took over him, making him cum in thick streams, all expertly swallowed by y/n. His mouth dropped open in pleasure, neck arched back as he groaned. Y/N whined against his cock, tip of her nose brushing his pubes with how deep he was inside her, reveling in the taste of him.

He pulled out of her, leaving y/n to gag and gasp as she regained her breath, but she quickly drove forward, licking the head of his manhood for any forgotten drop.

Just how he ordered, she took all of it.

“Good girl...” all y/n could do was smile at his fucked out face, sweaty curls stuck to his forehead, framing his face and making him look younger and alive. His red cheeks were decorated with his dimples as he smiled down at her. “Now, what am I gonna do with you?” he smirked. It was her turn, and Harry would gladly sink his red cheeks between her legs if she so desired. At least while he recovered. She had sucked him dry, but he wasn’t leaving without being inside her in another way, so he needed a moment to regain strength and then he’d fuck her proper, but in the meantime, he was down to play and he knew she was too.

All they got to do was kiss as they slowly switched positions, Harry slowly dropping down her body, sensually taking his time and taking liberal bites here and there, making sure she was on the edge. Little gasps and moans left her mouth and those were Harry’s favourite. As his knees started to bend and his hands reached under her dress, fingers hooked to remove her underwear, there was a frantic series of knocks on the door that jolted them out of their trance. Suddenly they were back at a party, fucking in a tiny bathroom as music blasted from downstairs. Harry cursed under his breath when he recognized the voice on the other side. “Harry! You in there, mate?” It was Niall. “Shit, shit” Harry mumbled, laughing, the fact that they were about to get caught causing them both to explode in giggles. but the tone of his friend’s voice was laced with some panic, and immediately after noticing, Harry worried too.

Throwing his shirt on and quickly buckling his pants, he pulled himself up. Y/n readjusted her dress as she hid behind the door, trying to make herself as small as she could. “Damn it Niall, I’m coming!” Harry said when the blonde one kept knocking like a maniac. Y/N almost giggled. Technically he came already. Harry opened the door. “Jesus, Harry, how long do ya wee for?” y/n had to bite her hand to keep from laughing out loud again, the thrill of almost getting caught giving her the giggles. Well he did use his dick, but not for what his friend thought. “Fuck off, mate” “Been looking for ya! Austin got in a fight” “What?! What the fuck Niall, I thought you were looking after him?!” “It happened fast! I wasn’t looking! Next thing I know Austin’s got Matt’s fist on his face” Harry grunts, annoyed and angry. With shaky hands he scatters, readjusting his pants and shirt, ready to bust out of the room and follow Niall. Surely the chants downstairs sounded like some fight was going on and Harry was going to have to break it up and take his intoxicated cousin home. More embarrassing stories for Austin to remember for the rest of his life. Before he walked out, he made sure Niall wasn’t looking when he reached behind the door and grabbed y/n’s hand. “I’m so sorry” he mouthed to her. “Harry, come on!” they both heard Niall scream down the hall. Y/N winked at Harry with a smile and a nod, assuring him it was okay before he took off, leaving her in the poorly lit bathroom with the biggest case of blue balls ever. She understood, after all Harry was sort of babysitting and she did take him away from it to give him a blowjob and hopefully get something back, but she was now left to calm herself down.

Overall, her own climax would have to wait. On one hand she could always go home and pleasure herself later, despite it not being as good as she knew Harry could be. She was, sadly, horny for Harry, and not for anyone else or even her own fingers.

On the other hand... her phone vibrated just a few minutes later, as she was about to leave the small restroom, more calm and collected. She checked it.

From: Stylesss I O U ;)

Y/N smiled. He definitely did, and she would hold him to that promise. She knew Harry was a man of his word.

feedback is greatly GREATLY appreciated. PLEASE! My Ask. Masterlist

Smooches, Iv. xo

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles blurb #I O U #harry styles AU #writing #my writing #masterlist #prompt #a little something #literal babbles #harry styles prompt #smut #stylessemantics #feedback please!#ask

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joeys-piano · 6 years

Text

A thousand pieces on the floor

Rating: Teen Notes: Injury, healing, Yuuri and Viktor learning how to be honest with themselves and each other, shower-thoughts, Yuuri’s self-doubt, Viktor reaches out to understand Yuuri, Yuuri comes to understand that he can be himself Inspired by a talk with @victuuri-is-relationship-goals & @dreaming-fireflies

Companion fic: 4,000 Heartbeats: You and Me

His footsteps sounded flat, even reluctant, when Yuuri stumbled into the locker room at the Ice Castle. With a limp bothering his hip, his ankle popped with even a reasonable amount of pressure, Yuuri clung to the small spaces between the wall tiles. His sweat stuck him to the fixtures as Yuuri slowly shuffled towards a bench. A towel slipped off from his shoulders and spilled onto his feet. Damp with every fear and worry that stuck up like a pinnacle over his skin when Yuuri’s fingers fumbled, ripping his gloves off. They, too, spilled onto his feet like the first drops of rain. Yuuri reached down, but his fingers twitched before he could pick them up.

A tiny voice, hidden behind his locks, whispered: “What are you skating for?”

Yuuri’s teeth grazed over his bottom lip, an answer at the edge of his tongue. However, it slid back into his throat and he kept the thought to himself. Unsure if he could respond with what he wanted to say, unsure if it was the right thing to say. Having hurt himself, having gotten up multiple times to perform a single leap of fate but failed, having twisted his body as far as he could when Viktor held his attention elsewhere...what was Yuuri skating for? His glasses slid to the tip of his nose, dangled between the clear and blurry outlines that he could make-out from the fallen towel and gloves below him.

What Yuuri needed was a shower if he could get up from the bench. Yuuri supported himself with his arms. Gently easing pressure onto his injured ankle and hopped a bit to one of the shower stalls. He could worry about a towel later. He could worry about a new change of clothes later. He could worry about the soaps and shampoos tucked in his sports bag later. What Yuuri needed was a shower, even if it was unconventional. Even if he barely pulled the curtains behind him when he crept inside, eyes threatened to spill all the words he couldn’t admit to himself right now.

Yuuri didn’t strip out from his practice clothes, though he didn’t need to for what he wanted to do. Back propped against one of the tiled walls, Yuuri eased the pressure off from his right ankle. Ripples of relief comforted his muscles, but tension made it as rigid as a board when Yuuri pulled his leg up and touched his injury. Massaging the skin around it with the lightest touch before he turned the showerhead on. Water sprouted at his command, and trickles ran down the length of Yuuri’s face.

Much like salty tears, but this was rain compared to the turbulent storm stirring beneath his skin. Yuuri held his breath when he tipped his head back, letting the water consume him. He closed his eyes and his glasses collided with a thud onto the floor. Swirled around by the moving water and rested near the drainage hole.

Forgotten.

Much like how Yuuri felt when he breathed again, spitting up water that cascaded down into his mouth. Choked by his own misery. No, Yuuri was neck-deep in a pain that he couldn’t tackle on his own. When Yuuri slid onto the floor, he did so with a low thud. Water splashed all around him, he was drenched to his bones. Weighed by an anchor thrown by his heart, weighed by the clothes that were as battered as him, and weighed by these conflictions that Yuuri believed he had to face on his own.

Here he sat, in a pool of his own demise. Where his past washed down from his skin and projected as images across the tiled floor. To the left, was his childhood when he skated to be as cool as Yuuko and Takeshi. To the left, were memories of competitions and little medals and trophies he scored because Yuuri found something that he was good at and no one could take that away from him. In front were swirling bits of doubt, bred from the Detroit days when Yuuri watched as his rinkmates surpassed and surprised him with every jump and turn. And hovered over Yuuri’s shoulders...Just the thought of it sunk Yuuri lower than he thought it would.

Knees tucked close to his chest, his chin rested over his kneecaps, Yuuri blinked slowly. Steadied his breathing and tried to stand. The walls were too slick for him to grip onto, and he fell. A hiss escaped from his control, and pins and needles jabbed into his ankle. Burrowed past his muscles and into his bones. Hitched his breath to the back of his throat, and Yuuri shook his head. Driblets of water flew around the shower stall. Just as the locker room opened, and a familiar whistle caught Yuuri’s ears. It was Viktor.

Viktor and his shuffling feet, coming close to the showers before entering a stall right next to Yuuri’s. The slide of the curtain rings against the metal pole, meandering steps as Viktor inspected the shower before he seemed satisfied with what he saw, and the showerhead slowly drizzled in hot water. Steam poured into Yuuri’s shower stall, mesmerized him for a moment before Viktor’s voice jogged him back to reality.

“Yuuri, are you there?” A knock against the wall, and Yuuri knocked back. Barely able to hear it because of the roar of his showerhead, but he felt the vibration against his back.

“Uh, yeah.” Yuuri craned his neck to the side, noticing a familiar silhouette near the curtain. A towel draped over Viktor’s arm, along with a sports bag. Yuuri’s sport bag, to be exact.

“I’m going to leave these near the curtain if that’s--”

“Thank you!” The words came out sooner than Yuuri expected, and he waited until Viktor’s silhouette disappeared before he crawled near the curtains. Scooted over, actually.

The shower was still going, freezing to Yuuri’s touch when he crept away from the waterfall and near the stiller parts of his surrounding ocean. His clothes clung onto him tightly, twisted with each of his movements. He fished for his glasses, and they dangled at the collar of his practice uniform by the time he got to the curtains. His towel and sports bag were on the other side when Yuuri stuck his hand out into the opening. Only to meet Viktor’s touch when he grabbed Yuuri carefully around the wrist.

Time stood still for but a moment. Yuuri didn’t know what to say when Viktor asked if he could peel the curtain back a little bit. Perhaps it was how Yuuri didn’t pull away from Viktor’s touch, or Viktor might’ve noticed a shadow of a nod from behind the curtain. Whatever it was, Viktor moved slowly. Peeled the shower curtain back with his pinkie, inches at a time until he met Yuuri’s gaze. Even then, the curtain wasn’t flung open. Viktor simply crouched to meet Yuuri’s level. The majority of his body hidden behind a wall, but his face was visible for Yuuri to see. Even so, Viktor kept his attention near the floor where he could see Yuuri’s hands to give his student privacy in the chill of this moment.

“Yuuri, can you promise me that you’ll be honest?” Viktor’s tone never rose above the calm that Yuuri was used to. Even on the rink when Viktor acted as Yuuri’s coach, he always kept his tone friendly and easy on the ears. Whether a mistake needed to be corrected or encouragement was needed before Yuuri could spread his wings for the leap of fate. That never changed, even now when the situation was graver than what Viktor originally thought when he turned his sight away from Yuuri for just a moment before a fall.

“I can try?” The curve of the question-mark at the end wasn’t intentional, but it sort of slipped out when Yuuri couldn’t find anything else to say.

“Trying is good because you’ve weighed out your options.” A smile blended nicely over Viktor’s words. He loosened his grip over Yuuri’s wrist, and Yuuri was able to pull out if he wanted to. “Earlier at the rink, did you hurt your ankle?”

“If you thought I did, why did you let me go?” Yuuri brushed his mop of bangs to the side. They clung to the side of his forehead, stuck to his skin like glue because of how drenched he was. Almost shivering in the chilled pool that he sat in. Viktor passed him a towel, and Yuuri scrubbed it against his hair. Droplets flew onto the shower curtain, a few touched Viktor’s skin.

Viktor didn’t pull his hand away from the water, viewing it more as simple lashes for him being lax as a coach. He had to remember that Yuuri wasn’t him, that Yuuri was getting back onto his feet after a pseudo-retirement from skating to clear his mind and to find himself again. Yuuri wasn’t used to performing a same technique over and over again, or perhaps he was and often ignored the signs that his body was at its limit. As Yuuri’s coach, Viktor should’ve noticed these signs sooner. However, he still had his skater-mentality and urged Yuuri to try again. If anything, Yuuri didn’t have to shoulder this burden on his own. Viktor shared half of the fault as well.

“I guess it was wishful thinking,” Viktor finally said. He lifted his hand and pulled the curtain back a little farther, and Viktor pulled his body away from its hiding space.

If he was going to be transparent to Yuuri, verbally and physically was the only way Viktor knew how. He couldn’t hide any secrets if Yuuri could see him. However, Yuuri darted his eyes away. Out of respect because Viktor had his shower warming up, and he may’ve been vulnerable. But then again, being vulnerable was what Viktor wanted to do. Despite the fact that he was still clothed and dry while Yuuri shivered in his wet practice uniform as a sneeze burned the back of his nose.

“You wanted me to be like you?” Yuuri titled his head to the side.

Viktor wore a closed-smile, unlike anything Yuuri had ever seen before from the television screen to news articles that used to flicker on his phone. “In some ways, yes. But, I didn’t come here to be your coach just so that you could be my perfect copy. As much as you want me to be...well, me; I want you to be you. From your Stammi Vicino performance, I could see how far you’ve come from being inspired by another. So I thought to myself…”

Viktor leaned in and took Yuuri’s towel. He dried the back of Yuuri’s neck and helped peel the wet practice clothes off from Yuuri’s body. Slowly, consent coming from a firm nod from Yuuri before Viktor pulled down the jacket zipper, and a weight slipped from Yuuri’s shoulders.

“How enthralling can he be, to capture the world as well as the audience, through a performance written for his own?”

Afterwards, Viktor asked if Yuuri could stand. When Yuuri shook his head, he had to internalize his yelp when Viktor hoisted him into his arms. The dense weights that had suffocated him before were left behind on the shower floor when Viktor carried him to a bench, promising that he would find more towels to dry Yuuri with as soon as he could. Viktor returned to the shower stalls and turned them off, gathered his things, and he offered his towel to Yuuri.

“You don’t have to do this.” Yuuri snuggled deeply against his shower towel. Shook his head a bit to fling a few droplets off from his bangs.

“I feel that this is a better apology than just words alone.” Viktor pressed his hand against Yuuri’s shoulder, a slight jostle to give his student strength. Perhaps, to keep Viktor from crumbling to the ground because Yuuri paid for his mistake with an injury as a little gift in return. Perhaps, it was a moment where Viktor and Yuuri accepted themselves as human.

Humans weren’t indestructible, nor were they immune to the consequences of a goal. But through weakness, people found strength in trust. And maybe it started here or a little later, but Yuuri found a bit of trust that he could give to Viktor. For Viktor, he found comfort in being honest with himself. Aware that mistakes weren’t dangers, but guides in shaping a better him. Through Yuuri, Viktor could embrace that part about himself.

#yuri on ice #YoI #yuuri katsuki #viktor nikiforov #yuri on ice fanfic #YoI fanfic #summer of mutual pining!project #plus paranoia #i've been going through a rough time so i'm channeling it through Yuuri #a few happier ideas are in queue for right now #so they'll come around

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nipnapples · 7 years

Text

BTS Having a Chubby Girlfriend (7/7)

This is the final part of this series guys! Thanks for keeping up with these this week. This is by far the longest one yet, as Rapmon is my Ult Bias and I am absolute trash for him. Buckle up, babes, cuz here we go.

Genre: Fluff and Smut

Rating: 18+ please and thank you!

Rapmonster Having a Chubby Girlfriend

You’d bought the red dress on a whim.

It was your size, and Namjoon had told you recently that red brought out the highlights in your hair.

It was short, hitting just above your knee, but long enough that your ass didn’t hang out when you bent down.

The fabric had a slight stretch to it, which clung to your hips and highlighted your ass’ best qualities.

The neckline of the dress dipped just low enough to expose the smooth expanse of the top of your breasts

But not enough to make you feel like they were about to pop from the fabric.

But despite all of these positive qualities,

your eyes only fell on the imperfections that the dress seemed to expose.

The roll of your stomach

The cellulite on the back of your thighs

The way your upper arms were soft and round rather than lean and toned.

Tears bit at the edges of your eyes as you began to take the dress off.

Why had you though that this was a good idea?

Why had you thought that you could be sexy, even once.

It would be better to change back into you large sweatshirt and leggings before Namjoon got home.

Before he saw you in the offending piece of clothing.

But you weren’t fast enough.

There stood Kim Namjoon, your boyfriend of barely 2 months.

tall, with rounded lips, caramel skin, and soft brown hair that dipped into his eyes if he wasn’t careful.

The leader of a Korean boy band, and nearly every girl’s wet dream.

You met when you were working within the styling department of his company,

Namjoon caught your eye right away, especially because you were assigned to work with him first.

You were from the US, spoke only basic Korean, and missed your family and friends terribly

.But Namjoon was there.

You often agonized over whether to stay or return home to your family.

And Namjoon listened to you.

It was late one evening, and the two of you were sitting on the deck to your apartment.

The lights out so no one could see it was him you were with.

You could see his silhouette from the light of the moon, and he was studying his hands, suddenly shy.

He then quietly took your hand, his large and warm, yours small and rounded.

Your heart stopped and you had to tell yourself not to read into it.

He still didn’t look at you, and you only looked at your fingers intertwined.

He mumbled something that you couldn’t hear,

And so you asked him to repeat himself.

“Don’t leave me,” he muttered, so quiet

So soft.

His eyes glittering in the moonlight.

“Please,” he tacked hastily into the end, as though not wanting to offend you.

Your tongue went dry.

This couldn’t be real.

He wasn’t real.

He was an ethereal being who most of the country lusted after.

He could have any girl that he wanted and he was claiming you.

You squeaked.

You didn’t say actual words

Namjoon had smirked, his eyes crinkling into little half moons, said something quickly and quietly in Korean, and buried his other hand in your hair.

He pulled you forward, settling his lips against yours,

never taking his eyes off of you.

Your heart thudded in your ears and you pulled back slightly.

“Me?” you whispered in disbelief.

“You,” he said.

“It’s always been you."

He crashed his lips into yours once more, and for once you had let yourself forget about standards,

what should and shouldn’t be,

and just let your heart burst with happiness.

And now you were here.

Standing in the middle of your bedroom,

Fighting off tears while Namjoon stood in the doorway,

In black jeans and a black t-shirt.

His eyes took you in from the soles of your feet to your watering eyes.

“What are you doing?” He asked quietly, approaching slowly, eyes still roaming your body.

You turned around, embarrassed.

“Nothing, Absolutely nothing.”

“This does not look like nothing.”

Namjoon tugged on your hand, forcing him to stumble into his chest to look up at him.

You nose filled with the scent of fabric softener, soap, and just plain Namjoon.

You could hear his heart thumping beneath his shirt,

You felt him lay his cheek on top of your head, his fingers brushing down the exposed part of your back.

“Talk to me, Y/N. Talk to me. Please.”

You shook your head slowly, burying your blushing face into his chest the best you could.

He didn’t need to hear about your body issues.

He pulled away and ducked down to look at your face.

You avoided eye contact with him.

He kissed your forehead lightly, and then each cheek and temple.

He scattered playful kisses all over your face,

until his lips finally rested on your own.

It was a tentative kiss at first, questioning and loving at the same time.

Waiting for permission.

You tilted your head up, and kissed him back just as softly.

You felt him sigh and gather you up in his arms, a smirk playing around the corners of his mouth as his lips moved in time with yours.

You raised yourself up on your toes, distracted from your previous concerns by the velvet touch of his tongue across your bottom lip.

You slide your arms up his chest, anchoring your fingers around the collar of his tshirt, pulling his body a centimeter closer, crushing your lips to his.

Namjoon humored you for a few moments, his hands brushing softly over the dip of your waist and hip and…

He pulled back with a soft pop of his lips leaving yours.

You groaned, dropping back to your flat feet.

He grinned

His eyes closing briefly, and he kissed you on the tip of your nose.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Sweets, and then we’ll see what we can do.”

Your heart shuddered and you wanted to hide again,

You had spoken of your image before, and he had laughed it off, giving you the standard reassurances

That you were beautiful, cute, and “perfect the way you were”.

You met his eyes.

“I am fat. And I don’t understand why you want to be with me of all people. You literally have your pick of every girl within Seoul but you chose me, a fat American girl who can barely speak Korean.”

You turn away, tugging at the dress again.

“I saw this in a store and I thought I would surprise you but I look like a fucking potato,”

Namjoon didn’t say anything, but instead came up behind you.

He turned you towards the mirror,

Correcting the strap that was slipping from your shoulder,

His hands softly smoothed the red fabric over your wide hips.

He stared for a moment at your figure in the dress, his eyes lingering at where the hem hit just above your knees and the way the neckline dipped just enough.

He rested his hands on your hips, his thumbs running small circles where your hip bones would be if you were thinner.

Finally, after several beats, his eyes found yours in the reflection.

“Who fucking cares?” he asked.

“What?”

“Who fucking cares if you’re fat? So what? Sure, you’re fat, but you know what else you are?” He raised an eyebrow and flashed a half smirk at you.

“You’re literally the funniest, kindest, most beautifully sexy person I have ever met in my life. I don’t want one of those skinny girls who fawn all over me and the boys at the concerts and outside of the company. They all look the same in those high waisted shorts and crop tops.

You? You’re unique and beautiful and sexy and chubby. And, you know what, goddamnit? You’re mine.”

Your heart warmed at his speech, but the worry was still worming its way through your brain.

“But what about my stomach, and my arms, and my thighs and my literally everything else?”

“What about them?” he breathed in your ear, so gently that you almost thought you’d missed it.

His long fingers found the zip to your dress again, and you watched him as he undid it in the mirror.

“I don’t know what you see,” he muttered as he pushed the straps from your shoulders and circled around to face him.

“But I see a tummy that creates the most amazing belly laugh that I have ever heard in my life.”

He ran a finger down from your shoulder, catching the fabric and slowly pulling it down past your navel and hips. He smiled again, but it did not reach his eyes this time, which were smoldering over your body, burning your skin as they traveled downwards.

“I see arms that wrap around me so tight during scary movies, and fingers that tangle in my hair when we fuck.”

The dress tumbled past your thighs and crumpled to the floor.

Now only in your bra and panties in front of him, and your knees were weak from his words.

You could feel a pressure building between your legs as he spoke.

“And that ass? Oh goddamn.” He bit his lip and you heart fluttered, and then shuddered to a stop as his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your panties.

He rolled his fingers against the soft flesh of your hips, moving back towards your bum.

Once there, he spread his long fingers around the cheeks, squeezing lightly.

“I’ve always been an ass man myself, and Y/N, you’ve got an ass that knocks the air out of me. Especially when you put your jeans on in the morning. Ugh, and the way you walk around the place like you don’t know what you do to me.”

Namjoon made you feel so many things: sexy, beautiful, and shy all at once,

each emotion flashing over you until becoming muddled in a burning arousal.

But now he was finally removing your underwear, letting it fall to the floor on top of the red dress in a puddle of black lace.

He bit his lip as he undid your bra, watching as it too fell to the floor.

You resisted the urge to cover yourself with your arms,and instead tried to accept the more powerful feeling of pride as his eyes and hands swept over your breasts.

He cupped the curve of your breast in his hand, and ran a soft circle over your nipple with his thumb.

He ducked his head and kissed your collarbone, sweeping the air from your lungs.

His lips traveled where they pleased, biting and soothing across your neck, shoulders, arms, and eventually breast.

As he took one of your nipples into his mouth,

you felt him smirk when you gasped and released a shuddering moan.

He rolled the nub with his tongue, and then lifted his head to look at you.

“You are perfect, fat and all, and I don’t want you thinking that I would choose anyone over you. I will always choose you.”

His eyes were serious and the bored into yours, but all you could feel was frustration at his sudden halt in activities.

You shoved your feelings of inadequacy aside for now,

and accepted the warm and powerful lust that had erupted in your stomach.

You didn’t put the red dress on again that night.

#bts scenarios #bts smut #bts reactions #bts series #bts rapmonster #bts rapmon #bts rm #bts kim namjoon #bts namjoon #bts fanfic #bangtan boys #bullet proof boy scouts #BTS

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project-runway-rankings · 6 years

Text

Season 2 Episode 14- Floundering Finale

It’s no secret that I think these designers stumbled to the finish line this season. Unfortunately, Daniel, Chloe, and Santino really didn’t step it up going into the finale and we got three fairly underwhelming collections. None of the collections A) felt like full collections or B) had any surprising wow pieces. This made it feel like I could take any look from one collection and throw it into the other and it would fit in. Everything was just “fine”.

3. Daniel V.

Oof what a disappointment this was. Daniel seemed to be the preordained winner of the season, but this collection was just a conglomerate of mall wear with a few “fancy dresses” with ugly appliques. There were certain flashes of brilliance, but he had too many starting points and never really went anywhere with any of them. It was such a shame to see Daniel fall so hard, but guess what? We all done known this!!! He wasn’t that great on the season and this collection showed that.

Serving you Blanche Deveroux realness. Tacky floral? Check. Shoulder pads? Check. Fit and flair? Check. Congratulations you’ve made your first grandma jacket!

The skirt is nothing.

The boring daughter of the woman in the first look. I can get that top at J.Crew, Gap, Macy’s, literally any department store. There is no design here.

This is a cute coat, and had he run in this direction I think he could have eeked out the win because the judges really loved him. The collar is wonderful and it is impeccably made. the silhouette is gorgeous, too.

And we’re back to mall wear. The only part that is remotely designed are the shoulder straps. Yawn.

I agree with Michael Kors, I want to rip that thing off of her chest. The pleating on the bottom is cute but still boring.

Had this shirt been a mini dress I would have loved it, but it isnt. The top is cute, but once again the skirt is nothing. I also hate the two together, especially with the boots.

Where did this come from? It has absolutely nothing to do with the rest of his collection. Had this been in the same cool tones I would have given it a pass, but changing the pallet and design details is too much. I actually really like the pants but, as we know, I hate the under boob scoop.

Oh look! He took my advice and made his shirt and skirt a mini dress for his thirteenth look. This is cute and totally in line with the best pieces in his collection. It isn’t shown here but I love the cowl neck back to these pieces. I would have switched this piece and the previous piece in his lineup for a smoother transition.

I want to like this but I just can’t. Each piece individually is cute but all together it gets a bit costume, like someone on a Disney show. Had he gotten rid of the purple sweater, which is a nothing piece already, it would have been much more successful. But again with the damn chest patch.

There were strokes of greatness in this collection. I absolutely love this top, it is so soft and delicate, the best parts of Daniel’s designs. The pants are wonky but at least there is design there.

J. Crew Outlet

I like it but once again it does not fit with his collection. No where else has he played with transparent volume or monotone multi-piece looks. I like that he played with volume and top and on bottom, but was able to balance it out by keeping it body con in the middle.

This dress is horrendous from beginning to end and not what I would want to leave in the mind of the public and the judges. The patch needs to go, but past that there are many more issues. The color is so blah and the two browns do not mesh well. All of the detail in the back looks very western, like cowboy boot or saloon door details. Mess all around.

2. Santino

Santino created a lot of beautiful dresses for his finale collection, but he showed very little range. It was quite boring and after a while and a lot of the pieces began to blend together. That being said, there were no truly bad pieces in his collection but it didn’t feel like a full runway show to me.

This is a gorgeous gown but it doesn’t give me the oomph I need from an opener. The proportions are great and make the model look super tall and I love the fabrics he chose. It’s just a bit safe.

This is cute and fun. I love the leather pants, they add an edge to an extremely saccharine look. The top is cute as well, I just wanted some more oomph again.

Everyone on Project Runway has created this dress, and it’s normally in a quick or unconventional challenge. I don’t need this in a 13 piece collection. Love the color though. Why this was in the middle of his maroon and pink looks I will never know.

Yawn. At least the blue dress was made well. What is up with the hem.

It’s a beautiful slip dress with a wonky back.

For the 13th look it was more designed than any of the previous 3 looks. Still, it needs even more. Maybe if the lace was in a different tone than the dress?

This one I love. The jumpsuit is nice but the star here is the cape. It falls beautifully around her shoulders and arms and scoops around her neck wonderfully. The only problem is that this should be a low point in a collection in terms of amount of design, not a high.

She’s a majorette. The dress is ok but that jacket is hideous. The horizontal lines are cutting her off at too many places.I

I love the sudden pop of super saturation. It’s the same cut on top as many of his other dresses but I enjoy the mix of fabrics. I wish he had continued that into the skirt.

And then this comes out of nowhere in the collection. I kind of enjoy it just because I was so bored by everything else. I don’t think he used the right fabric for the skirt or sleeves, it has too much structure for what he wanted. I would have loved to see more of this leather work in his collection, but overall it’s a bit too Ren Fair.

I. Love. This. Fabric. He only used it in 2 pieces but I would have loved it in about 5 or 6. And he knows how to work with it. The way it flows around her body and drapes down is amazing. The pleating is amazing. I need Santino to stay in this lane because this is where his strength lies.

His blue dress but in puce. I like the lines of the trim though and it seems much better executed.

Yes yes yes yes yes yes. He should have opened with this look and gone from there because this is by far the best look in the collection. The extra drape in the front is such a beautiful and understated edition. I just love it, possibly the best look of all 3 collections.

1. Chloe

Chloe deserved to win just because of the lack of imagination of Daniel and Santino. Still, it isn’t the best collection in the history of the show.

She had the best opener of any of the finalists. It is fun, cool, and most importantly, interesting. It’s a new take on a classic coat dress.

I haaaaate this print. I have never been a fan of dark green and pink and the floral looks dated, even for 2005. The actual dress is cute and a lot of girls would rock that silhouette.

The same ugly fabric but in a much more boring silhouette.

I’ve been on the fence about this dress, but I’m coming down on the side of quite liking it. The pleating on the bottom are something I’ve never seen before and I like the folding detailing of the shoulder. The fabric and sleeve length make it a bit grandma but overall its a success.

This is cute. The fabric could have easily gone grandam but the cuts make it young and fresh. The dress is cute but the shrug is amazing. The way the two pieces make a cutout in the back is sublime. She did a great job with volume in this collection.

This look I don’t like as much. It’s a little too stiff and stuffy and doesn’t match the easier fun attitude of the previous looks. The tuxedo stripe is problematic, she tried to be different by angling it to the pockets but it doesn’t work.

The same boring dress Santino made twice. The fabric is way too thick and stiff, it looks like maternity wear. You can tell this was her 13th look.

From the waist up I like it, a chic little cocktail dress. The color is also extremely rich. The fit and flair leaves a bit to be desired just because I’ve seen it so much. I wish should have taken the pleating from her 4th look and added it to more pieces, maybe this one.

In my opinion, the printed pieces in her collection were the least successful. The lace up top looks costumey and the shirt hits the model and an odd length, accentuating her hips.

Upon closer inspection it may not be a print but a lace overlay an odd choice considering the abundance of solids and lack of lace in the rest of her collection.

I have no clue where anyone would wear this dress. The front is too stuffy for a cocktail party but the back is completely inappropriate for the workplace. I love the power of the cobalt blue though, she looks powerful. The seams on the front make her look extremely tall and lean.

I am really not responding well to the print’s that she chose. This looks like random islands or a deconstructed globe. Aside from that it is the same basic empire waist dress I’ve been harping on, but this time in a maxi.

I don’t mind the print as much here because a lot of the focus is on the gorgeous cobalt blue. The sleeves and back make this dress. The rest is a bit underwhelming.

This is a strong second to last dress, but I would never use it as a closer. This shows a restrained and edited design eye but doesn’t scream “this is who I am as a designer”. I really have no issues with the actual dress, and the back is fantastic.

A well deserved win for Chloe, even if it was by default.

#project runway #projectrunway #project runway season 2

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offansandflames · 7 years

Text

October 25 - Haunted House

Halloween had taken entirely too long to round the corner. The two waited impatiently until this blessed Halloween, knowing that Itachi would be occuppied at a college party. Thus, they’d have the house to themselves, to do as they pleased.

They waited until it was dark, and they turned off Sasuke’s bedroom lights. They’d made popcorn for the movie and placed it in a huge bowl by the bedstand.

“Uh… Is it really necessary to turn all the lights out?”

“That’s how you watch horror movies,” Sasuke said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.

“Yeah, but what if we need to find the remote?”

They’d both sat on the edge of the bed, looking at Sasuke’s computer screen.

“I’m putting it on the bed stand.”

“And the popcorn?”

“The screen will give us enough light.”

“Oh,” Naruto answered with a forced laugh. “That’s perfect.”

But Sasuke sat right next to Naruto, just so he could feel even the slightest flinch, their arms pressing together. The movie began with a bang, causing Naruto to startle. Sasuke smirked.

“That was a cheap jump scare,” Naruto scowled.

As the movie continued, Naruto grew increasingly horrible at concealing his reactions, now occasionally hiding behind Sasuke’s shoulder as inconspicuously as he possibly could. He was not inconspicuous. Finally, he shot up in the air a good six inches with a yelp, scattering popcorn on Sasuke’s lap.

“Is this that high tolerance you were talking about?” Sasuke asked snidely.

“Fuck you!” Naruto shot back.

“You’re terrified of these things.”

Naruto pouted, eating a single piece of popcorn without responding.

“Am not.”

Sasuke looked over at Naruto incredulously.

“Fine,” Naruto sighed. “But as long as I get to snuggle up to you, maybe cop a feel… I’ll be fine.”

Naruto bundled up next to Sasuke, who placed his arm over Naruto’s shoulder. Naruto smiled for just a moment.

"Oh god oh god ohgodohgod. She shouldn't go in there... Why would she go in there?"

The female character walked into an empty room, where surely the villain hid.

"Are you going to shut up, or should I just turn on the subtitles?"

Naruto completely ignored him.

"Oh no... She's...she's gonna open that door."

Naruto lifted his hands to his mouth. Sasuke rolled his eyes as Naruto clawed into Sasuke’s forearm in suspense. A loud clash sounded as a picture frame fell over. Naruto jolted, spilling popcorn into their laps yet again.

"Fuck! I hate it when they do that. False alarm. Just to get you on the edge of your...EEE! Oh SHIT."

A malignant specter appeared, beheading the unfortunate character. Naruto emitted a high-pitched squeal, suddenly jumping about a foot to the left into Sasuke's lap. After that, Naruto watched the rest of the movie peeking through his fingers. And finally it was over.

Naruto cleaned up the popcorn he'd spilled, while Sasuke flicked off the television and turned the lights back on. It was getting a little late, just one minute to midnight. Sasuke glanced over at the clock, noticing that midnight had hit.

Only seconds later, the air began to take on a strong chill. It started off mild, but seemed to worsen by the second.

"Shit..." Naruto shivered, sticking his arms underneath his shirt, "What happened to the temperature in here?"

Sasuke shrugged.

"Maybe the thermostat's busted."

Naruto laughed nervously, "Isn't a weird coincidence this all happened at midnight?"

The air was growing still colder. Goosebumps prickled Sasuke's upper body, Naruto huddling into him for warmth.

"You're reading too much into it."

"But... Has this happened before? I mean, it's really cold."

"No," Sasuke responded, "But does it really matter?"

Naruto silenced himself, his body tense as his eyes darted around the room.

"Besides, it's just the thermostat. It's not like the whole house is on the fritz."

It was horribly ironic that the lights began to flicker, a sickly glow illuminating the house before all fell to darkness.

"Sasuke... This... This is really weird. What's going on?"

Naruto was clinging to Sasuke's arm now, looking over his shoulders quickly, only to see darkness.

"Well, this is convenient,” Sasuke griped. “Pick up the phone. I'll look for the number for the power company."

Blond locks flung as Naruto shook his head.

"No, I think I wanna stay next to you."

"Too scared?" Sasuke taunted.

"Hell no!"

"Then pick up the phone."

Naruto grumbled, his groping hand finally stumbling upon the phone. Naruto picked it up...

"Sasuke... The line is dead."

Sasuke grunted, rummaging his bedstand for his cell phone and attempting to start it up.

"Great. It won't even turn on. That’s…a little fishy."

Naruto let out a faint whine, which he believed Sasuke would not hear. He did.

"This is...really weird. Why is all of this stuff happening at once?"

Sasuke shrugged, sitting next to Naruto.

"Stranger things have happened."

The older of the two tugged on Sasuke's sleeve tentatively.

"Sasuke... Has anything ever happened to make you think maybe your house is...haunted?"

Sasuke snickered.

"Are you trying to say there's a ghost in here?"

Naruto stammered, "Uh... Ghost, maybe ghosts. I don't know! The phones, the power, and the room temperature are freaking out on us within minutes of each other. Explain that!"

"Don't be an idiot," Sasuke chided. "There's no such thing as ghosts."

The smaller pointed at the other male frantically.

"Ah! Ah! See, you can't explain it!"

"I can't believe we're even having this conversation... What are you doing?"

Naruto had placed Sasuke in front of him, hiding behind his shoulders and head.

"I don't wanna look. What if something pops out at me?!"

"For fuck's sake..."

Loudly, from the bottom floor, static crackled in the air. Opera music played, glitching from some sort of interference from time to time. Naruto screamed, sounding a bit younger and more feminine than was flattering. Sasuke flinched as well.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygoood... This is so, so creepy."

Sasuke frowned, allowing Naruto to shrink behind him.

"It is a little creepy," Sasuke admitted, looking around his bedroom.

Naruto's jaw dropped. Even Sasuke was admitting it!

"But there has to be an explanation."

The music continued to blare beneath them, echoing throughout the dark and frigid house.

"Yes, Sasuke. Ghosts! That's the explanation!"

Sasuke groaned, warming his biceps with his hands, "Fucking freezing in here..."

"See! See!"

"Are you even listening to yourself? This is ridiculous."

Naruto whimpered, "This is scary..."

"Listen, dumbass..."

Sasuke placed his hand on Naruto's shoulder before continuing, "I'm going to go downstairs and figure things out. Then you'll feel like a total idiot for all of this, and I'll laugh at you."

Naruto's reflexes worked faster than a steel trap, his hand clamping down on Sasuke's forearm.

"Nooo, no, no. You can't leave me in this dark, creepyass room all alone."

"What would you do without me?"

"We are not splitting up,” Naruto said, shaking his head emphatically. “That is like...the number one thing not to do in this situation!"

Naruto could not see Sasuke roll his eyes through the heavy black, but it was more than evident in his voice.

"This isn't some B-grade horror flick. This is real life, and I'm not freezing my ass off in the dark because you're scared of the boogeyman."

Sasuke yanked his arm out of Naruto's vice grip.

"Nooonononononooooooo!"

And with that, Sasuke was gone, leaving the door slightly ajar as his footsteps bounced down the hall.

Well, this was it. Naruto had lived a full life, all sixteen years of it. Still, it was a shame he was going to die tonight. But there were good times. He looked back and encountered a myriad of good memories, almost all of which involved food. Ah, yes, that macaroni had been out of this world. His hands fumbled as he backed himself into the wall, covering his backside so that he would be ready for any...unwelcome intruders.

With a wicked smirk on his face, Sasuke used his flashlight to sift through the downstairs coat closet. Perfect, there it is. Tonight hadn't been that difficult, really. He assumed that Naruto would know nothing of timed thermostats or power breakers. He knew how those lights flickered when finally extinguishing; even he thought they were a little eerie. And the radio alarm clock? Of course, he hadn't expected Naruto to notice that it had a battery reserve.

And Naruto bought it all, hook, line, and sinker. For a prank this elaborate, things had been going even more smoothly than he had hoped. And why? Why would he do this, to the wide-eyed, skittish blond? With those flirty texts Naruto had sent their female classmates from Sasuke’s phone, Naruto had dug his own grave.

The idiot knew he had it coming, sooner or later. But the short and sweet version? No one pranks Uchiha Sasuke.

Pushing the hangers to the other side, Sasuke pulled out his brother's long trench coat in the very back. The coat draped over Sasuke's entire frame, the Uchiha popping the collar to obscure his face. He picked a fedora off the top shelf and carefully placed it on his head. If not properly concealed, his hairstyle would give him away in a heartbeat. He stood in front of the window, the street lights casting a faint illumination behind him.

He took a deep inhale. Sometimes Sasuke believed he had the emotional capacity of a watermelon. He would be a horrible actor he mused. Sasuke focused. What made him scared? Why did he have to be so damned fearless? Wait... Plant roots. Plant roots were creepy as hell.

"NARUTO!"

He made his best attempt at fear and desperation. That hadn't been so bad. Whatever the case, he must've been believable enough, as Naruto's feet clomped down the stairway so fast that it sounded like he'd rolled down a hill. He froze in his tracks as he saw the silhouette of a coated figure, standing tall and eerie behind the dimly lit window.

Sasuke did not believe that there were words in the English language to describe the shriek that projected out of Naruto's mouth. The closest he could come was to say that it sounded like some god-awful mixture of a pterodactyl, that Kocoum guy from Pocahontas, and a duck being asphyxiated.

Sasuke snickered, just about to laugh when Naruto closed the space between the two of them faster than a lightning bolt, all the while emitting his ungodly battle cry. No, this was...not supposed to happen. Naruto grabbed a flowerpot on the way, violently chucking it at Sasuke's head. Luckily, Sasuke ducked, taking the collision on his left shoulder blade. Sasuke coughed.

"Fuck!" Sasuke swore.

Naruto continued to punch the mysterious figure, catching its back and arms as it protected its head.

"Where's Sasuke?! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH SASUKE?!"

"Stop it! I'm Sasuke!"

But Naruto could not hear him over his own hysteria. In the scuffle, the fedora flew off of Sasuke's head.

"Where is he, you bastard?!"

"It's me, you moron!" Sasuke shouted as loudly as he could muster.

Naruto’s jaw dropped, staring at the coated figure and pointing frantically.

"Possessed!"

Sasuke groaned. He'd done too good of a job, perhaps.

"Would you fucking listen? Considered yourself paid back in full."

Naruto squinted his eyes suspiciously.

"Payback?"

"Yes," Sasuke sighed. "After all the shenanigans you caused with my cell phone, I told you I'd get you back."

A pause. What was Sasuke talking about?

"You!"

Naruto gave Sasuke one last emphatic point before his hands plummeted to his sides.

"You fucking...assdickshitfuckstick...douche canoe!"

Ink black brows rose as Sasuke took a moment to appreciate the originality of this newly discovered expletive.

“Payback’s a bitch.”

Still catching his breath, Naruto erupted into laughter.

"You scared the shit outta me!"

"Yes, that was the idea."

"That..." Naruto panted. "Okay, I admit. That was good."

"But why the hell would you attack an intruder in the house? You're supposed to run."

Naruto laughed, ruffling the hair at the back of his head.

"Sorry, man. Fight or flight. Sometimes adrenaline makes the choice for you."

So, perhaps not everything had gone to plan. The bruise on Sasuke's shoulder probably wouldn't disappear for at least a couple weeks. Still, remembering the impressive scream that Naruto gave at the night's climax, Sasuke knew that it had been worth it.

"Learn your lesson yet?"

Naruto chuckled.

"Oh, I learned my lesson alright."

Sasuke smirked triumphantly.

"That is...you look damned sexy in a trenchcoat."

#sns halloween week #sns #sasunaru #narusasu #sasunarusasu #sns halloween week 2017

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optimusphillip · 4 years

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OptimusPhillip Reviews 24: Studio Series 40 Shatter

Week two of my ongoing coverage of the Studio Series figures of Shatter and Dropkick from Bumblebee. Last week, I covered the first figure of these characters to come out, helicopter Dropkick, so continuing that trend brings us to car Shatter. Car Shatter has a very similar reputation to helicopter Dropkick, but I personally find them to be polar opposites. But is that a good thing or a bad thing? Well, that’s what I’m here to find out.

Car Mode

Like in the movie, Shatter transforms into a customized 1971 Plymouth GTX, with a roll cage, exposed engine, and a whole lot of added lights. Comparing this figure to shots from the movie, I can say it’s a really nice representation of the car from the movie. It’s missing some details, such as the little white triangles on the side panels or the 722 on the hood, but otherwise all the stripes from the movie are here, as well as the 722′s on the quarter panels. They even painted the tail lights, which is something of a rarity on main line Transformers today. It’s just all around a really nice recreation of a really cool movie car.

That said, it’s definitely not the cleanest car mode I’ve seen. Looking at her from the side, you can plainly see the feet hanging out between the rear wheels, and the arms aren’t much better. While they aren’t as obvious as the feet, they are still visible from the side, plus they just sort of hang there since they don’t actually tab in anywhere. It’s not enough to ruin the vehicle for me, personally, but it is still a flaw in what is otherwise an amazing vehicle mode.

Conversion

Shatter’s conversion scheme is a bit more on the clunky side. While there is a pretty clear order of operations, there are a lot of panels that have a tendency to bump into each other or get into each other’s way during the process. Right from the start, you have to untab a piece of the front fender and fold it down around the tire, but the stem it pivots on is behind the part that it tabs into, so you don’t get a lot of room to work with. You kind of have to wriggle the arm around on the bottom until the stem is in a good position for you to untab the part. After that, most of the top of the car lifts up, which keeps things somewhat out of the way, but not completely. The arms are simple enough (in theory), but the legs are still pretty panel-y. The quarter panels on her calves fit very nicely with the door pieces, but this means that getting them separated is a bit of a clunky mess. I do like how the wheel and foot transform, though. After that, simply fold down the hood, compress the backpack, flip up the head and tab the backpack into place.

Robot Mode

Shatter’s robot mode is based on her design from the “Decepticon Arrival” scene in Bumblebee, which takes place before she adopted her jet mode. As a result, she doesn’t have the wing and booster pack she had for most of her scenes in the film. Comparing the figure to that scene, she is a pretty close match. Due to the way she transforms, the roof lights are missing from her collar, and her shoulders are a bit off, but her chestplate does give her a faux engine scoop, and there’s a clever molding trick to get the illusion of the slanted headlights. Overall, it’s a pretty decent representation.

The head sculpt is where things get weird. The figure depicts her with the battle mask she had in the movie, but she was never seen wearing this battle mask in this form. She only ever wore it after adopting her jet mode, so this is a bit of an odd inconsistency. I’m assuming this is the result of the toy designers working with earlier concept designs: maybe Shatter was planned to use the battle mask in this form, and by the time it was cut from the movie the toy design was already finalized and sent to the factory or something. Regardless, it’s a bit of an oddity, but one I can live with.

But now let’s address the biggest aesthetic flaw. This figure has a lot of car kibble on her. The collapsed roof backpack, the door pieces on the back of her thighs, and the quarter panels on her inner calves really detract from the figure’s silhouette. It almost makes her look overly bulky, and not even in an imposing way. It’s a shame because, if you take the kibble away, she has the same silhouette she had in the movie, but with it on it just looks wrong. Plus, as we’ll see later, it really hampers her articulation.

And of course, there is a big elephant in the room: quality control. There are widespread reports of tolerance issues with the shoulders and the car fenders, and my figure was no exception. While my figure’s fenders only pop off occasionally, my figure’s shoulders have a hard time staying attached during transformation and when posing. I don’t find this to be a deal breaker, but I know there are people out there severely put off by this, and it is definitely a poor showing on HasTak’s part.

At least she’s got good articulation. Ball joints in the neck, shoulders, and hips. Swivels at the biceps and thighs. 90 degree elbows with soft ratchets, double jointed knees and ankles. This is all well and good, but the way the hips are constructed leaves very little outward range. She’s got enough range to stand with a natural spread to her legs, but you can’t get her into many dynamic action poses. Also, the aforementioned panels get in the way of a lot of poses, especially the door panels on the legs.

Onto accessories, Shatter comes with two guns that are designed to peg onto her forearms. They’re decent looking weapons, albeit not very screen accurate. They’re smooth in places, likely to help blend them into the arms, with a lot of extra molded detail on the barrels themselves. Of course, they fit onto the forearms, but you can also have her holding them if you want something a bit more traditional. Strangely, when you turn her into vehicle mode, the guns go onto the inside of her forearms for some reason. I don’t know why they didn’t just make it so that you could transform her without taking them off at all, since they don’t really move that far in vehicle mode. Personally, I may just have her go handheld with them for the sake of being more screen accurate.

Last up is a size comparison. Standing her next to helicopter Dropkick, she stands about 1/8 inch taller. This kind of surprised me, but this is actually accurate scale for these two, so it works out.

Backdrop

Shatter comes with a backdrop of the “Decepticon Arrival” scene, depicting the trailer park in Texas where Shatter and Dropkick first arrived on Earth. It shows a different angle to any shots seen in the film, but aside from that it looks almost identical... aside from the fact that it’s not in flames.

In terms of fit, Shatter is thin enough to fit on the base even in her widest poses... which, as we’ve established, isn’t much, but unfortunately her backpack bumps into the backdrop if you don’t have her legs positioned just right. So unfortunately, the robot mode doesn’t really fit well on the backdrop.

In car mode, however, she actually fits really well. Her wheelbase is thin enough that she sits comfortably on the platform, and she’s short enough end to end that nothing hangs off the edges. So once again, the car mode wins out.

Final Thoughts

When I reviewed helicopter Dropkick, I said that he was a very nice figure who suffers for not resembling his film model. Strangely enough, this figure almost has the exact opposite issue. Apart from some oddities in robot mode, the figure is very screen accurate, but the transformation is on the clunky side, and the robot mode has so much kibble that it gets in the way of almost everything. And then of course, there are the design flaws and quality control issues. So for my recommendation, I’m going to say that if you want a car mode Shatter for your display, you should go and hunt it down, because it’s probably the best we’re going to get. But if you’re just looking for a fun Transformer to mess around with, you should probably look elsewhere.

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