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ronearoundblindly · 1 year

Note

If its ok what if

Lloyd hansen x reader x steve rogers

🥵 smutt

ya know, it took me a loooong time--this ask is from september--to come up with something, but today's the day apparently! And, AND! The lovely @darsynia made me an awesome graphic whilst I wrote all this filth! Thank you, bestie!!! WC 3.3k

Warnings for oh fuck these two are terrors, smut, goddamn fighting (obviously, bc they can't get along in any universe), possibly the worst fucking puns ever and I no longer care, terrible/inaccurate/but very mild dom/sub vibes, not much but knife play. Please note that this work does not involve the two men together. Alternate title: Ro is 1,000% [nope, better make it 1,000,000%] going to hell. MINORS DNI. 18+ ONLY. There is plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this is not for you!

You can tell Steve is about to crawl out of his skin as the knife touches yours.

"You buy these pretty things for me?" Lloyd coos, tucking the point of his switchblade beneath a lacy seam. He knows damn well the navy set with bright red hearts is not for his enjoyment at all, so he turns his head to stare at your husband.

"Useless," Lloyd growls, flicking his wrist deftly.

The sliced fabric springs back to reveal your thatch of hair. You have no idea whether Lloyd was talking about your panties or Steve, and frankly, you're too turned on to care. There’s a certain amount of goading you expected aimed at the awkward hunk leaning on the far wall.

Steve clenches his arms tighter across his chest and sucks in a breath, eyes darting to your skin in case Lloyd drew blood, but his gaze lingers at your almost exposed core.

He hates this whole idea, but you have tried talking to him so many times about how to make sex more interesting. Steve can't stand to even listen to the words much less do what you want. This is the compromise.

Lloyd Hansen will do anyone for the right price, and sure, usually, that's killing, but who doesn't love a good fuck? Who wouldn't get half-hard just thinking about taking Captain America's wife to pound town right in front of the guy?

Lloyd simply smirks, returning his eyes to you and nudging the lace a little farther. The flat of the blade on your mound feels cold and so fucking dangerous that you shiver, neck tensing to throw your head back.

"How's that feel, pumpkin?"

"Golden," you whine, mewling when he nicks the other end and pulls your panties off. Lloyd doesn't like safe words and shit, but he agreed to a few check-ins, and you do have a way to stop him because, let's face it, the money is the real goal for him. The rest is gravy.

Lloyd stalks over to Steve's corner of the room, lifting the ruined garment for the other to take. "A souvenir--" he chuckles "--what's that smell like to you, huh, big man?"

Steve grimaces, unmoving, so Lloyd shoves your panties in his face.

"Smells like team spirit to me."

You should laugh. You really should. You should not fucking moan when you see Steve's chest expand and his eyes flutter shut briefly. You should not have such a surge of tingling heat race to your center that your thighs slam together.

But you do. And Lloyd notices.

"This is gonna be fun," he whispers, likely to himself, as he drops the fabric and walks over again.

His fingertips slide from your knee up your thigh, and Lloyd bends to nip at your neck.

"Lie back from me, sweetheart. Go on."

You have to cover a squeak while you flop onto the mattress. This sort of dominance is nothing like Steve Rogers even on his most confident day. Steve is always measured and a little tentative, his force reined in to the point of being boring after so many years. This is all flush and feral with the promise of oblivion, and in the strangest way, you still associate every second as with Steve, not Lloyd Hansen. The exercise in trust--the sheer fact that he was willing to entertain this idea, much less the practice--is a show of devotion from Steve you never thought possible.

And then Lloyd kneels down and pushes your legs apart. "Open up for me. That's it. Good girl."

"Ah fuck," you moan into your hand, and thank god if Steve does hear you, he doesn't say a thing.

Lloyd skips finesse and plunges into the dirty end of the pool by licking all the way up and down your cunt, hands spreading your ass to expose every bit of you to him, and he pauses to speak with his mouth against your clit.

"Do I need to give him a lesson or can I just fucking taste you?"

"I know how to--" but Steve's protest dies behind the noise Lloyd makes sloppily eating you out like a man starved.

Your legs instinctively wrap around his head, and your hips buck into the wild ride. His mustache burns in the best way. You gasp so much that your throat burns dry, too.

He says other things, things that rumble up your spine and settle deep in your brain, but you can't process what those words are until the white-hot lightning finally cracks your body apart.

Lloyd is shockingly soothing as you come back down from your high but unshockingly smug when he sweeps his face clean of your cum.

"You're doing star-spangled spectacularly for me, slut, now why don't--"

There's a thunderclap of noise that wrenches you out of your bliss. You’re knocked onto your side as Lloyd falls to the floor.

Steve raises his arm again but hesitates when you call his name.

"He doesn't...he doesn't do well with language like that," you manage to say, still fuzzy and out of breath.

Lloyd wipes blood from his nose. "Yeah, I picked up on that. Thanks,” he spits sarcastically, followed by a real spit to clear his mouth. “Down, boy. I'll play nice--" he winks at you as he rises "--but not too nice."

Lloyd climbs back to sit on the edge of the bed beside you, his hand spreading over your throat gently. "Feels good, don't it? Feeling golden?"

You nod vigorously.

He licks more blood from his lip. “Yeah? Can we move on, pumpkin, or is your pussy still needy—“

Lloyd catches Steve's fist this time, jumping up to punch your husband square in the neck.

Steve, to his credit, doesn't even go down, but he drops his arm and steps back, rubbing the point of contact as he wheezes for a minute.

"Can I please continue?" Lloyd screams in annoyance. The man is not in any way used to sharing, or going slow, or giving a flying fuck about anyone in the room for that matter. However, Lloyd is a dedicated professional, so he’ll continue because he knows what’s in it for him. "God damn it,” he barks, spitting at Steve’s feet.

Lloyd takes a beat to compose himself and returns to your side, facing away now, his hand plunging between your legs.

"Time to earn participation points, Golden Boy." Two fingers breach your entrance without warning. "On your knees."

Lloyd snaps his other fingers and points to the ground like he's training a dog to heel.

Slowly, with wide eyes and hesitant steps, Steve places himself exactly as Lloyd did before. He strategically keeps his focus glued to yours until the squelching sound of Lloyd's fingers thrusting in and out of you becomes too loud to ignore.

That look--that fucking moment where your husband sees your core and hunger darkens his whole face--could send you back over the edge right here, but suddenly, Lloyd stops.

"Now we've got his attention," the cruel man laughs.

Like your panties before, there's no ceremony to Lloyd shoving his fingers into Steve's awe-parted lips, but the biggest shock is how your husband doesn't fight the intrusion. No. Steve grabs Lloyd's wrist to keep him there until Steve is done sucking your taste off another man's fingers.

You're pretty sure that's when your soul left your body, but it's a toss-up between that and every other moment tonight.

With more patience than you thought possible, Lloyd waits, comically making an “O” with his mouth and looking at you. “Someone’s eager for the beaver, I see.” He takes the same wet fingers and tucks them between your breasts, snapping the front of your bra sharply against your sternum.

“Finish unwrapping your present. I wanna see what you got—” and when Steve immediately reaches behind your back for the clasp, Lloyd’s eyebrows bob up and down “—and he’s good at following orders, too.”

Your husband plants a gentle kiss on the swell of one breast before Lloyd stops him, tutting while he holds a fucking knife against Captain America’s chest to sit him back on his heels.

He ticks the blade down. “That’s your half now. This is mine.”

You’re practically panting while Steve’s eyes go hard in possessiveness, locked onto Lloyd in a challenge you don’t quite understand until the fancy man flips the blade back into it’s handle.

“Fine,” Lloyd grouches, tossing the knife farther up the bed. He shuffles closer to face you, a warm hand cupping your breast before he tweaks the nipple harshly. “Why don’t you relax for us, huh, good girl?”

Lloyd coaxes you to lean back again, orders Steve to hold your legs open and tease you, buries painful fingers in your hair, and forces you to watch.

“That’s it. Don’t you want to hear her beg? Doesn’t she sound so sweet? Oh, I like her desperate…”

Not in years has Steve Rogers whispered anything so filthy as the shit that falls from Lloyd’s mouth, but goddamn, every word is like kindling stoking the vigor with which Steve consumes you. You lap up the praise while your husband gulps down every ounce created by every word.

Lloyd lowers to suck and bite all over your chest, marks blossoming across the tender skin as he takes a sort of sweet revenge for his bloody nose. A kink for a kink.

“You want to tell him what’s next,” Lloyd rasps, straining your neck back to look at him in the last few moments before you come again, “or should I?” His devilish smile is the last thing you see before he pushes you to meet Steve’s eyes, the perfect, final flick of tongue rolling over your clit.

Dutifully—sweetly almost—Steve lifts away from you as your legs shake, replacing his face with his fingers to gently bring you down, and Lloyd does not like that. He swats Steve’s hand off to slap your raw bundle of nerves and shove his fingers in again, brutally hitting that spongy spot until the dam of orgasm doesn’t just rupture, it explodes inside you.

You cry out and flail. Lloyd pins you down with a knee to your ribcage, and it hurts but not enough to give a shit over the rush of cum soaking his hand and the sheets below. Steve holds your ankles so you don’t kick him in the face while squirming, transfixed on every move Lloyd makes to milk you stupid.

With one last wet slap, Lloyd rests his hand on your belly and tosses a gelled lock of hair out of his face.

“Wifey here wants to suck you dry,” he boasts, and your hands fly to your face in hot embarrassment.

You confessed that after drinking quite a lot during the ‘negotiation’ of terms for this little arrangement, but only when Steve excused himself to the restroom. Lloyd wasn’t supposed to repeat your fantasy.

“That’s right, big guy. She’s gonna blow your—“ his eyes drop and raise “—mind,” he continues, unpinning you and pushing your arms to the side. He leans down to smear your own slick across your mouth messily, quietly adding, “he won’t even notice I’m right behind you.”

The air rushes out of your lungs before you can stop it, making a downright pathetic sound of anticipation.

“Strip,” Lloyd commands, waving a hand casually at Steve and sauntering over to a bottle of water on the dresser. “The…uh…lady should get on her knees.”

Steve turns to the other wall, unable to meet your eye, bright red blotches spotting his neck and cheeks. He’s embarrassed, too, but from the speed at which he unzips his jeans to relieve his still-straining erection and then pulls his shirt over his head, Steve is also painfully aroused. You even catch him rubbing his cock with each conceivable pass while disrobing. It reignites that weak fire between your tired legs.

“Face up, Captain. Give ‘er some room,” Lloyd snorts, capping his water.

Of course, Steve spreads his legs in front of you, and instead of acknowledging how fucking hard he is, he helps you balance into position.

You capture a quick kiss and smile as your husband blushes even more.

“Jesus, I’m gonna vomit,” Lloyd mutters behind you.

He’s just so, so fucking evil, but you admit the contrast has you drooling to get your mouth on Steve. You’re already planning on adding orders to your regular routine. You buzz with excitement at all this play implies, now and in the future.

Steve isn’t just letting this happen; he likes what’s happening.

Lloyd’s warm hand pets down your spine until it rests heavily on your lower back, the heel of it pressed against your spread ass, an encouragement and a threat.

“Take him how you want. Just like you told me.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, listening to Steve’s ragged breaths amidst Lloyd's criticism.

“You don’t just lick him, do you, kitten? You can do better than that. I thought you wanted to swallow him whole. Don’t disappoint me now. More. You can take it. More.”

Your nose nuzzles into Steve’s pelvis as you feel his cock jump in your throat. You swallow around him but force yourself up for air after.

“Is that the best you got?” Lloyd teases, his hand sliding tauntingly down your crack and through your folds before he’s gone.

You open your eyes when he grabs your wrist and presses the closed switchblade into your palm.

“Go on. Hold it, pumpkin. Right there.” Lloyd makes your hand rest on Steve’s thigh. For balance, you have to open your fist and press the metal to your husband’s skin as you take him back into your mouth.

Steve fucking groans, pinching his eyes shut and grabbing the sheets beneath him.

“Oh yeah,” Lloyd chirps, “he likes a bit of danger, huh?” A flat hand cracks against your ass, making you whine with your lips around Steve’s dick.

The sound of Steve whimpering is coupled with the snap of Lloyd's belt. His fingers return, and you just know he’s unabashedly staring at your pussy.

“Whoo-ee, if you weren’t already gaping for me, I’d think you weren’t into this. Put your back into it.” You hear the rip of a zipper only moments before the thick tip of him lines up.

You can’t help but moan low and long over Steve’s length.

“Baby?” Steve breathes above you.

“She’s fine,” Lloyd answers instead, pushing in. The head of him pops past the first ridge of your walls, and his hand clamps down on your hip, the other flat over the small of your back, guiding, controlling.

The spit of both men coats your core and inner thighs, you remember, and the slow swirl of ambient air proves it. That thought makes your eyes roll back as much as the glorious pressure of Lloyd’s cock filling you.

But Steve’s fingers find your chin and raise you to look at him, repeating his question until you let him fall heavy from your mouth and lick your swollen lips.

“Golden,” you say just as Lloyd bottoms out. “Fff-ahh.” You barely stop yourself from cursing when he thrusts forward and another SMACK hits your ass. “Golden,” you promise, because you know Steve is watching with extremely mixed feelings.

You return what attention you can to stuffing your mouth full. A rhythm progresses while you rock between them, but it’s too gentle for—of all people—Steve.

His hand knots through your hair to guide you faster. You have to plant yourself steady on the mattress, the knife digging into both your flesh, and hold your hips still.

Lloyd isn’t even fazed as he takes over his own selfish pace, his balls slapping so hard they sting your thighs. He keeps talking, too.

“See how much she likes that, buddy?”

Oh, that is not going to go over well with Steve.

“Bet she’d drop to her knees for you daily.”

He’s not wrong there…

“Damn, babygirl—“ Oh shit “—sometimes a bitch just needs fucked doggy-style.”

You can feel Steve’s chest fill to correct him, the deep v-line of his Adonis’ belt pressing against your nose to cut off your air, but Lloyd purposefully slams into you. You lurch forward to deep-throat Steve with a scream of alarm, and the constriction nearly topples Steve over the edge.

Just for a moment, his hand holds you down, choking you. It’s Steve choking you on his dick, and your nails happily dig into his meaty thighs. You’ve dreamed of this day.

With a strangled sound, Steve pulls you off him, strings of spit drip from your abused mouth. You’re gasping for air but also not done enjoying yourself, so you lick and kiss up Steve’s length until ready to take him again.

All the while, Lloyd darkly chuckles and kneads at your ass.

When one spanking lands so hard that you cry out, Steve bucks down your throat and punches the bed, clearly torn between sensation and situation.

“Such an asshole,” he grits through clenched teeth.

“Oh,” Lloyd tuts, “she wants it in the ass? Well, when in Rome…” He swipes his thumb over the cream pooling at the base of his cock and shoves his thumb hard against your puckered hole.

Honestly, you have no idea if it even breached because you scream and fall forward on Steve's dick. This time, Steve comes with a roar, a raging, animalistic thing you have never heard before, but you’re pulled away just as fast.

Lloyd hauls you up to his chest, telling you to look at what a fucking mess your husband is for you. Steve desperately grips himself until it’s over, half his spend glistening on his abs, half rolling down your chin while Lloyd continues to thrust into your sweet spot.

He’s given up controlling his language entirely.

“Fuck, she’s close. Come on, big guy—“ he pinches your nipple and bites at your neck “—finish her off.”

Lloyd drops you like a stone into Steve’s waiting arms, and Steve wastes no time slamming his mouth to yours and furiously rubbing your clit. You’re so stretched out that three of his thick fingers feel like nothing until they curl.

This time you can’t help but shout your own curse. Steve just keeps kissing you, holding you two together as you writhe. You hardly notice Lloyd painting his cum across your back and ass but neither does Steve, it seems, because the next thing you know you’re laying beside your husband in bed while your guest grins in triumph.

“I’ll just take this,” Lloyd drawls, reaching beneath Steve’s bare leg to retrieve his knife. He slaps Steve’s ass, too. It’s as if Lloyd knows Steve will let him get away with just about anything in the post-coital fog. “Don’t want you to feel left out, buddy.”

Your husband makes no move at all except to kiss your forehead.

“How are you?” He smooths your wrecked hair out of your face.

“Oh wow,” you say with a rough voice and runaway breaths, “I’m golden, just golden.”

Lloyd grabs his water bottle, joking. “My work here is done, and you two—“ he swigs and swallows dramatically “—I don't mind repeat business from. Anytime. Fuck.”

He struts to the bathroom, pants still undone and hanging open, uncaring. With a shout, he slaps the top of the door frame.

“That’s America’s Cunt!”

Steve’s whole body tenses. “I hate that guy,” he grumbles into your sweaty skin.

You snuggle closer, surrounded by familiar body heat and musk. “I know. Isn't it great?”

Because it’s so, so true. There is nothing about Lloyd Hansen you actually want for one second longer than necessary. That's the beauty of teamwork: everyone serves their purpose.

Honorable mention to the line I promised but ultimately couldn't fit in (that's what she said):

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#steve rogers fanfiction #lloyd hansen fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #lloyd hansen x reader #steve rogers smut #lloyd hansen smut #steve rogers fanfic #steve x reader #18+ fanfic #ro answers

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aurumacadicus · 1 year

Note

If you're still doing 5 headcanon stuff (if not feel free to ignore): Platonic Tony x Rhodey, with werewolf family?

Love this idea <3

Jim was pretty sure that he was paired with Tony for the dorms specifically because they were the only two werewolves entering the student population that year. Two werewolves would know the ins and outs of being around other werewolves already, so no learning curve for a human roommate. It was stupid. They were from different packs. They could have attacked each other on sight. Their packs could have had a feud, and the humans wouldn't have known about it. But, it was also the eighties. That type of ignorance was sort of par for the course back then. Tony hadn't noticed Jim was a werewolf too, had simply walked in and said, "This is my bed, I'm gonna roll all over it now so it smells like me," and then accidentally wedged himself between the bed and the wall and whined until Jim had rescued him, and well. That had sort of been that.

Tony is orphaned. Jim grabs him by the scruff after the funeral and drags him home with him. "This is ours now," he tells his mama. Mama gives Tony a slow up-and-down, then says, "Well, he's the only other person with taste in this house," and that's that. ("What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she's asked later, and she scowls and reminds everyone that Tony is the only other person who prefers sweet potato pie to pumpkin and now she doesn't have to worry about her pies molding before she can finish them.) They quickly find out that Tony's quirks that they've brushed off as 'eccentric rich person' are actually coping mechanisms because his parents were not very good werewolves. Boarding school had not been Tony's choice, and he'd only started college early because once home, he didn't know how to live with other werewolves. It was why he'd been so careless about rooming with Jim in the dorms. He didn't know he was supposed to be on the defensive around another werewolf. It's dangerous. Other wolves can and will take advantage of his guard being down all the time. He's still a pup, in some ways. Others, he's aged beyond his years. Jim hears his mama and dad whispering some nights about how the Starks ruined him, how they stunted him and made him grow too soon as the same time, how they can try and fix some of what's happened to him but he's always going to be at least a little bit broken. Jim remembers that, when Tony dons a suit and smiles sharp and wide, baring his teeth when other werewolves would hide them. He plays human and werewolf in a way that Jim can't even begin to comprehend. (Doesn't want to.) And he does it well. (It breaks their hearts.)

Tony seems to realize that he's... Different. Jim and the rest of his family try their hardest to convince him that they don't care, that they love him in spite of that, that he's still part of the pack and just because his instincts got all messed up doesn't mean he's a bad person. But it's not enough. Probably wouldn't have been enough even if they'd taken him in earlier, gotten a head start on fixing his frayed edges. He starts sharing less of his life, carefully covering his face so he doesn't smile when a werewolf wouldn't and set the family on edge. Visits less, and times them with Jim's so he never visits alone. "I think the war ruined my parents," Tony says, and Jim turns to look at him, frowning. Tony is staring out the window as Happy drives them to a banquet. Normally they take the drive to pep each other up for the absolute torture of glad-handing, but Tony had been conspicuously quiet, and Jim hadn't wanted to push him. "Okay?" Jim replies carefully. Tony doesn't respond for a moment, but when he finally does, he still can't make eye contact with him. "Mom's pack was scattered by the war. Lots of her male relatives died. The rest moved wherever they could to keep their kids safe. Supplies were scarce, so smaller groups were preferred. Mom left so that she wouldn't be a burden. Dad, well... he didn't talk about his parents much. He only had one picture of them. And then the war, and Captain America, and the nuclear bomb... I think I wouldn't have had a chance to be normal even if I hadn't gotten sent off to boarding school." He's probably right, Jim thinks, but doesn't say so. All he can see is the kid who wedged himself between his bed and his wall and whined until he got him free. "Yeah, well, that's their loss," he says, and Tony offers him a wide smile that a normal werewolf wouldn't have. He smiles back, because he's known Tony long enough to know that his bared teeth are not a threat. Knows it puts Tony at ease that he'll bare his teeth back.

Tony is kidnapped in Afghanistan, and Jim finds him walking the sands after a successful escape, pausing every few yards to let out dry howl, lips cracked and a hole glowing in his chest. Jim gnashes his teeth furiously as he listens to the doctors explain that they can't do more to help. How he's only alive because he's a werewolf, and the technology simply wasn't there to keep him from bleeding to death if they tried to surgically remove the shrapnel. Gnashes his teeth when Tony destroys one of his fighter jets, almost kills one of his pilots and then saves him, buys him a new jet in recompense. Gnashes his teeth when he learns Obadiah was behind Tony's kidnapping, almost killed him again, almost killed Pepper and would have done so without remorse. Gnashes his teeth was Tony finally admits he's dying from palladium poisoning from the reactor. Gnashes his teeth when Tony joins some stupid secret boy band called the Avengers, and he's working with Captain America, who told Tony to his face that he knew men who were worth ten of him, and Natasha, who had betrayed his trust and stabbed him in the neck, and other people Jim doesn't know so doesn't trust or like them. Gnashes his teeth when he realizes that they're all broken just like Tony, and are able to relate to him in ways that Jim will never be able to, because he grew up in a loving family and literally no one else did. Tony is still the only one who smiles though. Jim can see it puts the rest of the Avengers on edge, the way he bares his teeth without thinking about it. Human in ways they can't be. Werewolf in ways they can't, either. Jim bares his teeth back at him, and Tony throws his head back and laughs as the rest of the Avengers back away, anxious and confused.

"So are you dating again, or?" Jim asks, picking through a bowl of puppy chow. He likes the ones with more peanut butter than chocolate. He doesn't mention he can see the Avengers turning toward them in interest even as they desperately try to pretend to mind their own business. "Pepper mentioned you going out on a date finally." Tony shrugs. "Yeah, I thought I might put myself back out there. I don't know. Just feels discouraging that I can't keep a girlfriend. Or boyfriend," he adds belatedly. "'s 'cause you're weird," Jim offers helpfully. "Yeah," Tony sighs. At least he's self-aware. "Anyway, I'm gonna go menace the rest of your team," Jim adds, popping the last few bites of puppy chow he'd dug out into his mouth. "Gotta show 'em who's boss, after all." "Okay, but if you make Bruce Hulk out, you have to clean up the mess," Tony replies, and Jim salutes him before he goes over to bare his teeth at the rest of the Avengers until they scramble out of his way nervously. He finds it flattering that most of them can't meet his eyes. Bruce even sort of grabs someone's shirt and puts it over his head, as if physically blocking his gaze away would help. Jim crunches a mouthful of puppy chow next to his ear in response. He wants everyone to be certain that if they did anything to hurt Tony, they'd have not just him, but the rest of his family there to make them pay for it. Also a couple of them had looked way too interested in the fact Tony was dating again.

#aurumacadicus answers #ask meme #5 headcanons meme #tony/rhodey brotp

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ask-elland-n-will · 5 months

Text

Elland de Strontium

[A slightly modified profile from here and here for when he is an OC and not an MC. Image: created by Talkie AI, edited by me.]

🌙 Name: Elland de Strontium

🌙 Birthday: September 30

🌙 Year: 7th

🌙 House: Hufflepuff

🌙 Personality: Loyal, attentive, courageous. Straightforward. Never lies for himself but sometimes tells white lies for the sake of other people. Accepts the blame if gets caught and protects his friends with his life (or in our case ends up in detention instead of them if deems it necessary). Stresses a lot (the reputation of his family, the safety of his loved ones, family business responsibilities, NEWTs he needs to pass to become an Auror) but only close to him people can tell. For the same reason doesn't sleep well. He is too focused on other people and is unsure of himself in personal affairs because he pushes his own needs to the very bottom.

Can make difficult decisions on behalf of other people, be a leader. If he believes that the current leader is doing a bad job or nobody wants to step in and take the role, he'll make his opinion knows, take over/volunteer. If the leadership is strong, he is loyal.

If somebody rubs him the wrong way (maybe they are arrogant, or mean to other students, or are annoying him on purpose, or teasing him too much) he gets frustrated and can blow up in cold rage.

🌙 Classes he picked for year 7: DADA, Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, and History of Magic. He needs Potions, DADA and Transfiguration out of those for his NEWTs to become an Auror. Transfiguration is his weaker class while Charms is the one he likes the most even if it is nowhere near Outstanding. He is a mid student.

🌙 Interests: Plays a rebab (because of his ancestors' roots) and a lute. Sometimes feels inspired to write songs and poetry. Plays Quidditch only when there are not enough people to take up Keeper or Chaser positions, is in general indifferent to sports. But he loves going on flights.

🌙 Likes: Pumpkin pasties, his pet owl Penguin, his family.

🌙 Dislikes: Pumpkin juice, written home assignments, mornings.

🌙 Special ability instead of ancient magic: wandless magic. He is an intuitive magic user (in opposition to William's book smarts) but it does backfire often.

🌙 Family background

Elland was born in a muggle family and received his Hogwarts letter just like any other kid. His younger brother Cyrus got the same invitation a year later. They grew up happy, had everything they needed because their family is part of English nobility. The only negative thing Elland could've encountered that made him pay more attention in DADA and think of becoming an Auror were unpleasant run-ins with Ashwinders. But he's been steering clear of those, especially because of his companions.

The more time passes, the more stressed he gets since he is expected to take over the family business back in London after he graduates. He cannot push his family duties onto his carefree brother and his loyalty to his family outweighs anything he himself might want. But he still pushes for the NEWTs he needs.

De Strontiums moved to London from the Middle East back in 17th century (Egypt? Turkey? Elland does not remember). They were known for their firework production but later on they branched out into weaponry and explosives, supplying the Crown. They assimilated by mixing with local nobility and most of the traditions they used to have are no longer a part of their family. But every de Strontium has something to remind them of their roots, and for Elland it's a musical instrument.

#hogwarts legacy rp #elland #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy

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glass-trash-bab · 1 year

Text

Parent Moment

Writing is so hard :( Anyway, here’s Bab certified Parent time

It was a late night at the I.R.I.S. facility. The rain could be heard through the usually silent hallways. Bab had just finished up their nightly routine feedings/check-ins of all the ALTRs and afflicted animals they were assigned to and was currently walking down to The Nursery. Bab called it The Nursery, but it was officially known as the Incubation and Care Center, The I.C.C., but that basically meant the same thing. They approached the steel door to The Nursery before pushing it open.

The sound of weak crying was the first thing Bab noticed as they entered the small room. Past the tables of various sized incubators along the walls, the cabinets and refrigerators full of supplies, and glass tanks that held their experiments, sat a steel crib. Bab hurried over to the crib and leaned over the fluffy, shaking mound inside "Oh, baby.." They carefully lifted Elliot out of the crib and held him against their chest.

Despite being hot to the touch, he was shivering. Tears and spit up dampened the fluff on his face. "Shh, it's okay, it's okay.." Bab cooed as they carefully dried his face with the sleeve of their lab coat "You poor baby.."

Elliot whimpered, his usually shining black eyes could barely stay open as his head laid heavy against Babs collarbone. Bab grabbed the baby blanket out of the crib and laid it over Elliot's limp body.

They knew he wouldn't last through the night without supervision. He needed to be monitored to keep him from getting worse. But staying at the facility overnight was... undesirable, to say the least. Bab debated their options to themself for about 5 seconds before making up their mind.

It was 11 p.m. by the time Bab got back to their apartment. It wasn't uncommon for them to get off work much later than their partners. They both must've been asleep by then. Bab very quietly unlocked the door to their apartment and walked inside, carefully closing the door behind themself. They had Elliot in their arms, wrapped in their lab coat and jacket, leaving Bab soaked from the rain. That didn't bother them much, all that mattered was that Elliot was nice and dry and warm.

"Hey." A soft voice called to them from the hallway. Bab turned to see Orion, leaning against the wall and rubbing the sleep out of their eyes.

"Ah- I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

Orion shook their head "No, I was already up, don't worry." They stepped closer to Bab "... Why are you all wet?"

Bab looked down at the bundle of coats in their arms before sheepishly looking back up at Orion ".. Please don't be mad at me."

"What did you do?"

Bab carefully pulled back the coats to reveal Elliot's face, causing him to wince at the sudden lack of warmth.

Orion's eyes widened "You brought him home?" They whisper yelled.

"I couldn't leave him at the facility, he's sick. He could get worse if he's unsupervised.."

"You couldn't have asked someone to watch him during their shift?"

"They shouldn't have to watch a sick baby while they're trying to work. And I don't trust anyone who will willingly take a night shift at I.R.I.S."

Orion shrugged "Fair enough, I guess." They moved closer to examine Elliot "What are his symptoms?"

"He's had a fever since this morning and he hasn't had an appetite since then either.." Bab gently brushed some of the fluff out of Elliot's eyes "Poor little guy's been miserable all day.."

"Aww, baby... I'll watch him while you go change." Orion gently lifted Elliot out of Babs arms. Bab let out a sigh of relief "You're a saint, thank you. I was fully prepared to spend the rest of the night drenched." They gave Orion a kiss on the cheek before walking to the bedroom.

Bab very quietly entered the bedroom, glancing over at the bed to see Tae peacefully sleeping under the covers with Pumpkin snuggled against her stomach. Bab smiled warmly at the sight. Tae was just so beautiful. They quickly got some pajamas out of the dresser drawer before heading to the bathroom to change, not wanting to disturb Tae any more than they already had, which wasn't any but still.

Bab finished changing and walked out to the living room to see Orion sitting with Elliot on the couch, having him wrapped in fresh blankets instead of a bunch of coats. Bab smiled at the sight before heading to the kitchen. They may have brought home some "borrowed" supplies from I.R.I.S., including a baby bottle they pulled out of their pocket. They filled the bottle with water and grabbed an apple from the fridge, cutting it into tiny little slices for Elliot in case he was hungry.

Bab walked back into the living room with the bottle and the plate of apple slices before setting them on the table. They sat on the couch next to Orion "Thank you again for watching him. I really appreciate it."

Orion smiled "You don't have to thank me, I'm your partner. I'm here to help you." They yawned softly

Bab smiled warmly at that and kissed their forehead gently "You get some rest, I can take it from here."

"Are you sure? I'll stay and help you if you need it."

"I got it, you go to bed." Bab gently took Elliot out of their arms "You have to get up early."

"We have to get up at the same time."

"Go to bed."

"Fine." Orion rolled their eyes fondly before standing up and kissing Bab's forehead "Goodnight then."

"Goodnight, love." Bab smiled and watched Orion leave before turning their attention back to Elliot. Elliot had fallen asleep by then, his little hands clutching his baby blanket to his face. His raspy little breaths were the only sound left in the room.

Bab just watched him all night, making sure his fever didn't get any worse and that he slept comfortably. He woke up a few times throughout the night, having a couple apple slices and finishing the bottle of water by morning. Elliot was still asleep by the time they would usually get up, while Bab was still awake, softly messing with Elliot's fluff. They were staring off into space when Tae snapped them back “Uhh, Bab..?”

Bab lifted their head to face Tae, giving her a sleepy "Yeah?" in response.

She pointed to the blankets in their arms ".... What… what do you have there..?"

"Oh! You haven't met Elliot yet, have you?"

"What?"

"You remember that ALTR I was talking about that I kept calling my baby son? This is him." Bab carefully lifted Elliot so Tae could see him, proudly showing him off "His name is Elliot and I adore him so much."

"Oh… okay.." She paused for a moment "Why is he.. here?"

"He's sick, I couldn't leave him at the facility, he's a baby."

"... Okay.. How long have you been sitting here..?"

"All night."

"You haven't slept?"

"I'm a mother, gender neutral, now, Tae. Sleep is a luxury I can no longer afford."

"... Do you want breakfast?"

"Oh, I forgot about eating, yes please."

Tae nodded and walked into the kitchen, still processing the news of the new addition to their household. She knew Bab, they weren’t going to bring Elliot back to the facility. She came back with a plate of toast with butter and jam after a few minutes and sat on the couch next to Bab. "Thank you, beloved." They kissed her cheek before picking up a piece of toast and eating it.

Tae looked at Elliot, studying the tiny sleeping fluff ball. "So… what is Elliot exactly..?"

"Oh-" Bab wiped the jam from their mouth "He's a caterpillar baby. At least for now, and then he'll be a beautiful mothman when he grows up." Their eyes sparkled as they spoke, as opposed to Tae, who was not as enthusiastic. "...Oh... Okay… Can I ask.. why..?"

Bab paused a moment before shrugging "Why not?"

"..I don't know what I expected you to answer."

"He also feels like a kitten." Bab happily pet Elliot's head.

Orion sleepily walked into the living room, laying down on the couch and resting their head in Tae's lap. Tae glanced down at them and couldn't help but smile "Good morning, Oreo."

"Morning." Orion yawned and looked over at Bab "How's the baby?"

"Baby's doing better." Bab smiled "He’s finished his water, he's had a few apple slices and he's been asleep for 3 hours straight."

"That's good." Orion closed their eyes, snuggling up to Tae, who was playing with their hair.

They sat in comfortable silence for only a couple of minutes before Babs tired eyes suddenly got really wide. They turned to Tae, "I just realized something."

"What is it, Bab?"

"This is our first morning together as a family."

:3 @bondedosegos @climbing-starrs

#Baby goes home :3 #irisona #glass fic #Elliot :>#bad bitch polycule

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melikedanika · 5 months

Text

Ignorance is bliss - but it's also a bitch. Am I the only one whose been wondering how all the pieces fit?

►GENERAL INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Melike Jafrin Danika NICKNAME(S): Mel, MJ LABEL: The Aesthete AGE: 30 DATE OF BIRTH: September 9, 1993 ZODIAC: Virgo Sun, Cancer Rising, Gemini Moon GENDER & PRONOUNS: Female; She/Her HERITAGE: Turkish, Arab, Lebanese SPOKEN LANGUAGE(S): English, Turkish OCCUPATION: Interior Designer SEXUALITY & ROMANCE: Bisexual; Biromantic

► APPEARANCE

FACE CLAIM: Pinar Deniz HEIGHT: 5'6" WEIGHT: 132 lbs. DOMINANT HAND: Left HAIR COLOR: Brown EYE COLOR: Hazel SCARS: Fingers from being burnt by hot glue gun (barely noticeable) TATTOOS: None.

►PERSONALITY

POSITIVE TRAITS: Adroit, Romantic, Loyal, Brave, Compassionate, Passionate, Ambitious, Benevolent, Athletic. NEGATIVE TRAITS: Enigmatic, Guarded, Sensitive, Stubborn, Easily Bored, Perfectionistic, Detached. LIKES: Cafes, the sound of records playing, the smell of a new book and the smell of rain, astronomy, nature, cable-knit sweaters, the city lights, perfectly-done ponytails, old drive-ins, traveling, art museums, Shakespeare, Van Gogh, deep conversations, road trips, poetry, midnight runs. DISLIKES: Being told what to do, confrontation, being the first to show up, being the last to show up, not being taken seriously, someone underestimating her, the cold, feeling rushed, the sensation of being crowded, being called ‘selfish’ or 'ungrateful', restriction of freedom, close-minded people, being talked over, people who sell out, those without passion.

►MENTALITY

PHOBIAS: N/A DISORDERS: OCD ALLERGIES: Seasonal (Pollen)

►BACKGROUND

HOMETOWN: Adana, Turkey CURRENT RESIDENCE: Queens, NYC, NY EDUCATION LEVEL: BA in Interior Design from University of Cincinnati FAMILIAL CONNECTIONS: - Merjan Danika - Mother, Not in Contact - Ali Danika - 49, Father, Deceased

►FAVORITES

FOOD: Pita flatbread ( margherita style ) DRINK: Chai tea with almond milk MOVIE: The Devil Wears Prada / Black Swan TV SHOW: The Office, The Bold Type, Bob's Burgers BAND: The 1975, The Killers, The Beatles, Lana Del Rey, Smashing Pumpkins SONG: Cherub Rock - Smashing Pumpkins / Zombie - The Cranberries

► EXTRA INFORMATION

JUNG TYPE: ESTP ENNEAGRAM: The Confidant (6w7) TEMPERAMENT: Sanguine MORAL ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good SIN: Glutton (LOL) VIRTUE: Humility ELEMENT: Earth CHARACTER PLAYLIST

"Am I the only one obsessed with making it all make sense?"

► BIOGRAPHY

TW; Death, family dysfunction

Melike was born to a loving couple. At least, that's how it seemed at the time. Growing up in Adana, Turkey, Mel never felt deprived of anything. If anything, she recalls fondly on a time where she was battling dragons with wooden swords that her father so craftily created for her. Her mother? She was always so hard to reach. Mel took on a sort of balancing act. She could be herself around her father; goofy, loving, foolhardy. Around her mother, the young girl had to put a brave face on and take up some pretty adult like chores. At the age of 4, her father was making her breakfast but her mother believed she could fend for herself. Though she tried to relate and bond with her mother, it just wound up turning into an argument. The only times she could remember her mother smiling was over her grades; Mel then focusing on academics because at least her mother cared when she saw her high grades. Her whole life, she learned to hide pieces of herself away to become enough for someone else. Something her father tried so desperately to stop, but it did become a habit to his dismay. When she was off to university, she received a full ride to the University of Cincinnati. Her mother was the one pushing her to become a doctor and go to Penn State. Mel put the decision on the back burner; her own heart and mind at odds, much like her parents were at one another's throats. Her father's death came a couple weeks following her offer letters. The impact had her mother scrambling, and it wasn't until she attempted to sell Mel to a man in order to be his wife, that she finally put her foot down. She decided to go to the University of Cincinnati and hasn't looked back on her life in Turkey since. Two years ago, the woman took the leap to move to NYC due to a job opportunity. She's still gaining her footing here, but she does love the people and the ambiance.

► PERSONALITY

Mel is passionate and loves art and history thanks to her father. Due to this, she is prone to rambles of Shakespeare, Cleopatra, and good 'ole Van Gogh. She loves to go out and have fun in the night life scheme of things, but she also loves to just throw her hair up into a messy bun and have a Netflix marathon. Mel is a hopeless romantic and is all-in when it comes to relationships and crushes. This is an aspect of herself she's scared of, seeing that her parents were a product of an arranged marriage for financial reasons - she's afraid of someone not genuinely loving her and wanting her for their own gain. This has her a bit suspicious of others, and she can be a tad hard to bond with if you hate someone whose hot and cold at first. She genuinely is a warm character and loves the simpler things in life. She loves to rearrange her friends' houses and surprise them with the new layout. She's also an awesome wingwoman. Can take a joke, but will dish it right back. Loves take out and hiking. Mel is fixated on making everything make sense, since her father's passing still doesn't make sense to her; just a trauma response, ya know?

► PLOTS

The Best Friend: This is someone who was here for when Mel first came to Denver. They most likely showed her the ropes and gave her tours. It would be nice for them to have hit it off and been inseperable ever since. - OPEN

College Friends: Friends who went through the same interior design program, maybe? Or, they could've just met around campus and now it's like 'oh shit - you're in Denver too?' - OPEN (x2?)

The Roommate: I kinda see this as like a FRIENDS type of deal. Very much like Mel is the Monica to someone's Rachel and they are trying to figure out life together. Super soft and cute, ok? - OPEN

But, Do I Suck?: The design testers. These people are who Mel runs her ideas by before putting it out into the world and actually decorating someone's house. This is especially if they are a big client. They could be her genuine friends in the design industry, or maybe they just all love art and met/bonded that way. - OPEN (x2)

Once You Have Me, Will You Want Me Still?: Blind date that turned into a hookup and Mel left before they woke up because she got scared. Ya know, she just doesn't want history to repeat itself. - OPEN

#tw death #tw dysfunctional family #boroughs.intro

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phoenixrising0308 · 2 years

Text

Picktober Challenge: Falling for you

Picktober theme(s)-

Flufftober: Sharing Clothes and Holding Hands,

Falltober: Pumpkin and Cider

Fanfiction (Choices The Royal Romance/ The Royal Heir & Perfect Match Fandoms)- Fictober prompt: I’m doing it, shut up.

Books: The Royal Romance 1-3 to Royal Heir and Perfect Match.

Rating: M (18+) Sexual situation and adult themes.

Trigger Warnings in this chapter: NS*W 🍋. Additionally, mention of miscarriage.

Pairing: Liam Rys x Jessica Garcia (MC), former. Damien Nazzaro x Jessica Garcia

Agent Phoenix Forged in Fire Series premise: This is a canon-divergent series set after TRR 3 Tariq is never found. Liam’s duty to his country forces him into marriage. Jessica and Liam enter into a Cordonian arrangement. Both of them wanted to have a life together. However, various obstacles prevent him from a divorce and having the life they both want together. With dreams of a future crushed, Jessica leaves Cordonia. Despite a five-year absence, they are still heartbroken and unable to forget each other and the life they once shared. When Jessica’s career path takes an expected turn, her duty to her country pushes her to Cordonia, back into the society that burned her, and back into Liam’s sights. Will she rise from the ashes or once again go down in flames? Catch up here

Disclaimer

A/N: This is my submission for the Choices Monthly Challenge: Picktober and Fictober.

*This is a oneshot that is a part of the main story, and events will occur in a later chapters and stories in between* in the meantime here is a companion piece to give you some background on the meaning of Koi in Liam and Jessica's life.

Chapter Summary: Jessica and Damien's friends-with-benefits relationship gets complicated.

Song Inspiration: Toothbrush - Dnce

Word count: 4,500 *, please excuse typos and grammatical errors*

Reading time: 10 Minutes

Damien Nazario apartment

Jessica jumped up from the couch and shouted, “Fuck yes! Thank you, Aaron Judge.”

Damien dug his head into the arm of his sofa and said, “Can we turn this off?”

“Why? Because the M-E-T-S are losing?” Jessica jeered.

“I just think I’m disgusted with my team at this point,” Damien mumbled while eyeing the tv remote.

“Damien, you are a sore loser.”

Damien rolled his eyes. “Please don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Jessica said, knowing full well she was being obnoxious.

“You don’t have to rub it in.”

“The fuck I do. All day long, you were talking sooooo much shit; look at this score. We have four more innings.”

Damien snapped back, “Tone it down, okay.”

Jessica rolled her eyes. “Such a baby,”

Damien crossed his arms and huffed, “Just stop.”

“Are you gonna make me, Sir…” Jessica said with a cheeky smile.

20 minutes later…

“Fuck” Damien murmured in a deep seductive tone; she moaned as Damien smacked her ass. She spread her legs, quickly aligning herself with him. Both of them are so hungry for each other. She was dripping while she slowly sank onto him, gasping as she felt him enter her inch by inch. She gave her body time to adjust to his length and thickness before she moved her hips in a figure-eight motion, arching her back in pleasure.

Damien reacted similarly, groaning her name as she got fully seated in his lap. Jessica began to rock her hips back and forth, moans mixing through the air as they were stimulated.

Damien held her hips, thrusting into her with determination. “Mmmm.” Jessica moaned, her head tilting back as Damien reached up to tangle his fingers into her hair again and tug. She squeezed her eyes shut as Damien’s thrusts up into her became rougher, his free hand reaching down to rub circles onto her clit, making her body taut and her pants of breath faster. Jessica could feel herself get close, her first orgasm of many barrelling toward her. She cried out as it hit her, the sound of her ass hitting his thighs becoming clearer and clearer. She heard him moan her name out in bliss.

Jessica stopped on top for a few seconds as she combed her hair with her hand before she laid her head on Damien’s chest and mumbled, “God, that was so fucken good.” They both gave a slight chuckle. Jessica lifted her wrist to look at her father’s watch and said, “So fucken late or so fucken early.”

Jessica rolled off Damien’s side, gently brushing the hair away from her face while he whispered, “Preciosa, stay.”

Jessica pursed her lips. “I don’t know if that ruins our friends-with-benefits situation.”

“Worry when you’re leaving a toothbrush. You don’t have to work tomorrow. If it makes you feel better, just get some rest, and you can leave without waking me up.” Jessica responded by cuddling a little closer, allowing herself to relax; their two bodies were tangled in each other’s arms.

“I’m gonna just close my eyes for a bit.” She murmured.

Damien twirled Jessica’s hair and watched her eyes get heavy under his touch. When he was sure she had fallen asleep, he kissed her forehead and whispered, ‘Me Estoy Enamorado de ti (I’m falling for you).”

10 am …

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Jessica and Damien both woke up at the sound of loud knocking. Damien wiped his eyes. “What the fuck?”

“What’s happening?” Jessica said, half asleep.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“Sssh baby, go back to bed,” Damien said without thinking as he rushed to put his pants on to answer the door.

Jessica looked at Damien, puzzled, and whispered, ‘Shhh baby go back to bed?’ to herself, silently cursing for oversleeping and confusing their arrangement.

Damien closed the bedroom door behind him and answered the persistent knocking at his door. A woman said, “Ángel, ¿Cómo estás hijo? (Angel, how are you doing, son?)

Damien said in shock, “¿Mamá? ¿Qué estás haciendo aquí? (Mom? what are you doing here?)

“Well, we wanted to surprise you.” Another woman answered with a sassy tone.

“Lucilla.”

“We came to visit Hope and her wife. We are gonna go pumpkin picking. We know you hate that stuff, so we thought we could force you if we showed up unannounced.”

Meanwhile, in Damien’s bedroom…

Jessica covered herself in Damien’s comforter. ‘I want to die. Maybe they’ll leave, and I could just pretend I wasn’t here. Yeah, no sweat. They won’t know I’m here. Crisis averted.’ Jessica silently thought, plotting her escape.

“Dames, since when do you carry around a Marc Jacobs tote?”

“Carina?”

“Goddamn, is this the fucken Nazrio family reunion?” Jessica hissed as she got off the bed and started frantically looking for her clothes.

“Is she still here?” Another voice whispered.

“Yea, she is still here. Shirts on the floor.”

“Hope, come on.”

“Oh Dios mío. Perdóname hijo. Te estás protegiendo, ¿Verdad? (Oh my God. Sorry son. You’re protecting yourself right?”

¡Mamá!

‘Fuck my life hard.’ Jessica cursed at herself in her head.

“You didn’t tell us you were seeing anyone.”

“Is it serious?”

“¡Lucilla cállate!” Damien snapped.

“Bring her out; let’s meet her.”

“She can come with us pumpkin picking.” Lucilla chimed in

“Okay… Okay… can I just talk to her? I’m sure she hears all your loud mouths.”

Damien walked into the bedroom, and a pillow was thrown in his face as soon as he entered. He could see the panic and worry on her face.

“Your whole family is in the living room; they want me to go pumpkin picking with them,” Jessica said in a harsh, whispered tone.

“Preciosa, I’m sorry I obviously didn’t know.”

“Cool it with the pet names! Where are my panties?”

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“Ohhh, nice bra.” Isabela teased from behind the door. Damien opened the door jar and collected Jessica’s bra.

“Just shoot me. Put me out of my misery.”

“Come on; it’s not that bad.” Damien mused as he held out Jessica’s bra. Jessica snatched it and put it on.

“Yeah, this is bad,” Damien smirked.

“Gee, thanks,” Jessica said as she rolled her eyes.

Damien went into his closet and handed Jessica a shirt. Jessica looked at the shirt and looked at Damien with an annoyed expression. “Really? A Mets jersey.”

“You want me to go back out there and get your shirt off the floor or what?”

“I want to throw up.”

Damien gave a cringe as Jessica put on the Mets Jersey and said, “So I will just tell her we are dating like a couple saying we are just seeing each other will lead to other questions. The usual ones about settling down.”

Jessica roughly adjusted the jersey in disgust and hissed, “You can’t be serious. We’re not an item, Damien!”

He shhed her with his hand while speaking low and said, “I know that, but they don’t. Please, Preciosa. I will never hear the end of it.”

“That’s not my problem.”

Damien looked ready to get on his knees and beg as he gave a pleading stare and said, “Please, Jessica! Just one day of playing the part and pretending. I’m not asking you to go to trader joes or some shit couples do on a Saturday morning; I just want a day of pumpkin picking and you pretending we’re together.”

Jessica stared for a long moment before they heard one of his sisters through the door, “Are you coming out or not? Come on and bring her out!”

Damien gave Jessica a pleading look and sighed heavily while pinching her nose bridge. “Fuck…Okay, one day. One day of pretending, and that’s it.”

Damien released a relieved sigh and smiled before Jessica adjusted herself, and Damien opened the door to greet them. Jessica came face to face with an older woman and four younger women with curious stares her way.

Damien put his arm around Jessica while introducing her as Jessica plastered a fake smile on her face. "Mamá, Hope, Isabela, Carina, Lucilla; this is Jessica Garcia." He gestured to Jessica before gesturing to each sister and his Mother. “Jessica, this is my Mamá, My older sister Hope and my younger sisters Isabela, Carina, and Lucilla.”

Jessica was bombarded by both Spanish and English as everyone seemed to talk simultaneously to introduce themselves and ask questions about her. Damien held up a hand and said, “Guys, I’m sure we can talk plenty on the car ride.”

The one sister Isabela gestured to Damien’s Jersey Jessica wore, “Oh, you’re a Mets fan!”

Jessica forced a smile even though she thought, ‘Fucking Hell.’

Twin farms Orchards, Freehold, New Jersey

Jessica inwardly cringed when Damien held her hand while walking through the grass to the rows of Pumpkins lining the field. She gave him a sideways glare as he leaned down and whispered, “Preciosa, couples hold hands.”

Jessica hissed, “Yeah, but we’re not a couple.”

“One day, Jessica. Please. “

Jessica rolled her eyes as Damien’s sisters ran ahead of them. As she whispered to him, “I’m doing it, shut up.”

Damien gave her a smile with a nod and whispered, “Just…Try to enjoy the day pretending we’re together. After today, we can return to our strictly friends-with-benefits arrangement. I promise…Please, Jessica?” His dark eyes held an intense gaze she had seen so many times in her past with eyes as blue as the Mediterranean Sea.

She stared at Damien a moment and thought to herself, ‘Stop it. That life is behind you now, and it’s not like you’re betraying anything or anyone here. This is just a casual little outing with his family. You’re just doing a friend a favor.’ She reminded herself as she huffed and looked away while Damien squeezed her hand lightly.

Jessica couldn’t help inwardly smiling as she felt his hand in hers, but this time it wasn’t a momentary touch; it lingered, and she enjoyed the feeling. A slight warmth bloomed in her chest as his fingers interlaced her own. She almost felt guilty for enjoying it, even if her brain told her she shouldn’t.

The feeling was cut short by Hope saying, “Hurry up, lovebirds! We need Damien for the heavy lifting.”

Damien smiled and retorted, “So that’s why you called me out of bed to go with you all, and here I thought you missed me.”

Damien looked at Jessica right when his sisters and Mother looked over, and Jessica forced a smile even though all she could think of was, ‘Great. I’m spending my Autumn Sunday in a fucken Mets Jersey with a guy that is strictly friends with benefits, and his family thinks we’re a fucken couple madly in love or some shit…Perfect.’

Jessica sighed to herself when Damien pulled them both towards the pumpkin patch.

Isabela said, “What? Hope, that pumpkin is downright sad. It’s tiny!… Now, that one, on the other hand.”

Damien’s face sagged when he saw the large misshapen pumpkin Isabela pointed at, and Jessica couldn’t help but lightly chuckle as Damien gawked.

“You can’t seriously expect me to carry that thing the whole time, right?” He argued.

Lucilla walked over to their brother with her own pumpkin in hand, “Isabela, it’s not even round. It’s so ugly.”

“So? It’s getting carved anyway.”

Carina gestured towards a row of medium-sized pumpkins and exclaimed, “Uh, who cares about the size and roundness when those aren’t even that orange, and they have bad spots on them.”

Jessica and Damien watched the sisters talking over each other in minor disagreements as Damien gave Jessica a sideways look and mumbled, “On second thought, if you wanted to bail, I’m sure I can come up with an excuse.”

Their Mom chimed in, lecturing them in Spanish as Hope replied, “Sorry, Mamá, we’ll just pick one each. So it doesn’t matter who picks what.” Hope gave while shooting a mild glare to her three younger sisters, who all collectively nodded or shrugged and went off looking for their perfect pumpkins.

"Preciosa, which one?" He asked while scanning the pumpkin patch.

Jessica shrugged, “Doesn’t matter to me.”

Damien sighed, “Come on, Jessica. Try to act like this isn’t killing you to be here, for my sake.”

Jessica blinked at that and said, “I never said it was. I guess I’m just rusty.”

Damien ran a hand over his temple with a cringe. “I know, I know. I didn’t plan this exactly, but I want to make a decent impression, so I’m not hounded with questions.”

“You mean more than what was already asked? Carina asked me how our first date was, and Isabela asked if I planned on coming to Thanksgiving, and Hope and Lucilla wanted to know every detail imaginable.”

Damien gave an apologetic look, “Sorry for dragging you into this mess.”

Jessica eyed him for a moment. The way he looked at her and had her insides twist a bit. She released an annoyed breath through her nose before glancing at the pumpkins.

She thought, ‘The least I can do is try. It’s one day. ‘

“Okay.” She mumbled before walking over to a pumpkin. She bent down to pick it up and examine it. Her hand ran over the smooth surface before nodding. “This one.”

Damien looked slightly surprised, “You sure?”

Jessica nodded at the modestly sized pumpkin and said, “Positive.” Before she handed it to Damien, who smiled relieved and took it.

“Thanks for not picking the biggest pumpkin in this field for me to carry all day.”

Jessica gave a cheeky smirk. She looked around with a hum and said, “Hmm…Actually, maybe that one way over there?” She pointed to a much bigger pumpkin on the other side of the field.

Damien rolled his head back with a groan even if Jessica could clearly see a smirk; he tried to hide, “Oh God, please don’t start acting like my sisters. You already see what I have to fucken deal with.”

Jessica let out a huff-like chuckle, “Save it. I grew up with two overprotective older brothers. I don’t want to hear shit.”

They both walked together, giving the same witty banter and snide remarks they always did with each other, and Jessica couldn’t help thinking, ‘This really isn’t so bad. Damien’s a nice guy, his family is nice, and so far, his sisters and Mom haven’t been bad to me, and it’s a good pumpkin patch… It’s really kind of…Easy to pretend.’ She thought with a slight frown at her mixed emotions as she and Damien walked side by side.

Jessica paused when she saw the Apple Orchard a ways away on the other side of the field. Red apples hung from the faraway trees as a few people with buckets picked them. She stopped in her tracks to stare as a slow sinking feeling dropped in her stomach at all the memories an apple orchard could bring back.

A particular memory of her and the Crowned Prince sneaking off into the Applewood Manors Apple orchard for one of their ‘in-between’ moments. Laughing as he chased her before he caught her, kissing her deeply in secret while Jessica swore she would spend the rest of her life with him.

Damien instantly noticed her expression and stopped alongside her. “Jessica, is something wrong?”

Jessica shook herself and said, “No, just watching….”

Damien eyed her as she forced herself to look away. Analyzing her as she had on her poker face.

Suddenly, they were interrupted when Lucilla walked over to them and said, “Dames, Mamá, and Carina need help with their pumpkins… Jessica, if you want, we can go to the shop together and snag some cider and donuts for everyone. “

Jessica didn’t get to answer as Lucilla grabbed her hand, all while Jessica gave Damien a sideways glance as she was practically dragged away.

Damien nodded, “Sure thing. That’s my job here, apparently, Pumpkin carrier…Try not to keep Jes- my Girl, too long.” He gave Jessica a slight cringing smile as he left.

"No promises, Dames."

Jessica gave Lucilla a look as she let go of her hand, “... You’re gonna interrogate me, aren’t you?”

Lucilla shrugged, “It’s not an interrogation, just…Just Girl talk. About things about my brother.”

Jessica released an exasperated sigh as all she thought in her head, ‘Fuck my life.’

A short while later, Jessica and Lucilla had cider in their hands as they sat on a bench. Lucilla wasted no time asking, “So, how long have you known my brother?”

“Long enough. A year.”

“And we never heard about you because?”

Jessica shrugged, “We were friends first. I actually never expected…This, but here we are.” Jessica laughed slightly, trying to come off as genuine as possible.

“And uh, how did…This happen? Like, was it endless crushing on one of your parts, or did you both just randomly decide?...” She asked while trailing off.

Jessica shrugged, “I think it just kind of happened. A snarky remark here, a dig there, and before you know it, we hit it off.” Jessica gave a small smile. “I guess it was our way of flirting.”

Lucilla watched Jessica intently as Jessica sipped her cider and asked her, “So, do you know everything about Damien?”

“Um, yeah. I’m pretty sure I do.”

“Do you? Because my brother plays this cynical tough guy act to protect himself. “

Lucilla continued, “He’s had a lot of heartbreak. He won’t tell us, but this one woman he claimed was only a ‘colleague’ on the force messed him up pretty badly. The minute she ‘left’ work and was gone from his life or whatever, he became bitter and depressed. We couldn’t even say Alana’s name without him getting the biggest frown on his face and looking like a kicked puppy. There was Kai Parks; she had led him on for months. Now she is getting married. Dames has never really found his ‘Perfect Match.’ He’s become such a pessimist about relationships.

Jessica opened her mouth slightly to form the words. “I…I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, well, that’s Dames. He hides everything because he doesn’t want to burden people.” She sighed and swirled her cider in her cup. “I just want to ensure he’s not dealing with another heartbreak.”

“No, I would never do that to your brother Lucilla.”

She gave Jessica a skeptical stare. “Yeah? Then can you actually see a future with my brother? He doesn’t need a fling; he needs a woman who will love him as much as he loves her. Long term.”

Jessica sighed and sat her cider down to turn to Lucilla on the bench. “Listen, Lucilla. I get it. I have two brothers of my own and my own issues with the women they’ve dated. I don’t know where this is going with Damien and me, but we’re just testing the waters now. But I can tell you I have no intentions of hurting him.”

“Then what do you love about him?”

“What?”

She sat back to stare at Jessica and replied, “I want some proof. Do you really give a shit about him, or are you just stringing him along?”

Jessica groaned internally and thought, ‘God, I’m getting grilled by a teenage.’

Jessica cleared her throat and muttered, “Well, he’s… He’s actually the most annoying jerk but in an endearing way. He’s competitive, and we clash, but we also get along just as much…Um, He’s family oriented; I can tell that already … He’s kind and passionate…Responsible… He’s protective and puts others before himself… He’d be a great Dad if he wanted that.” The more she spoke, the more her voice trailed off as her mind wandered.

Lucilla had a smile slowly stretched across her face as she said, “...I believe you.” She patted Jessica’s knee, “And I think he’s in love with you too. It’s why I grilled you so much just now, just to be sure he’s not going to get burned.”

“Uh...You think so?” Jessica cautiously asked, taken aback and blinking at Lucilla.

Lucilla exclaimed, “Of course! Have you seen the way he looks at you? Every time we looked at you two, you were both laughing at something, and he had this dumb, goofy smile every time he looked at you. Trust me; a sister knows when her brother’s in love…Right?” Lucilla nudged her a bit.

Jessica felt a strange mix of emotions she couldn’t quite place as she slowly nodded. She cleared her throat and changed the subject, “So if the interrogation is over, I think we should get these donuts for everyone before we eat them all.”

“Or we could tell them they ran out and talk some more….”

“I think the cinnamon sugar dust is a dead giveaway,” Jessica muttered as she wiped some dust off Damien’s Mets Jersey. “Besides, I told you everything so far. You want my social security number, too, in case?” Jessica chuckled.

Lucilla laughed and said, “Fine. Besides, I think that Damien’s like a prized possession you’re wearing. He’d instantly know you got something on it, and then the secret donuts would be a giveaway, and I know Isabela she’ll complain till we go back and get her some, and then Dames would cry all day that his prized shirt is ruined or some shit like that. “Lucilla gave an eye roll. “I mean, you’re a Mets fan too, obviously.”

Jessica had to hide the grimace as she forced it out. “Uh yeah. I totally love that team…Just love them.” She lied as Lucilla got up with the bag of donuts, and they walked back.

Lucilla smiled at her and said, “Well, he must love you to let you wear his prized Jersey.”

‘More like he thought it would be hilarious.’ Jessica thought.

Lucilla continued, “I like you so far.”

Jessica raised a brow, “Well, I like you too. So did I pass the test?”

Lucilla laughed, “Yeah, I think Dames finally got someone.” She gave Jessica a smile, and Jessica gave a smile back.

‘You made it. You’ve been questioned; you did the cute couple thing like holding hands; you picked the stupid pumpkin together and lied through your teeth that you liked that shitty team…After this, you can just stop and go back to the arrangement you both have. No feelings, no romance, no future together. ‘Jessica reasoned with herself as she walked behind Lucilla.

They made it back to everyone as Lucilla handed out donuts and cider. Damien came up to Jessica with a donut in hand, and she couldn’t help noticing how he looked at her, whether it was just realizing it or paranoia from Lucilla.

He asked, “So, did you get to state your case to the judge, or were you thrown the book?”

“I got my ass handed to me by a teenager.”

“Good. But hold that thought because the jury is still deciding the verdict.” He mumbled as both their gazes landed on Lucilla, whispering something to her sister Hope as they both not so subtly glanced at Jessica.

Jessica softly groaned. “Fucken great.”

“No, I actually think they like you. I mean, they haven’t said one insult to you all day. For my sisters, that’s saying something.”

Jessica gave a slight smirk as Damien bit into a donut and had sugar on the side of his mouth. Jessica pointed. “You have some on your cheek.”

Damien raised his brows and swiped his hand over but missed it twice. She finally sighed and said, “Oh jeezus, here. “As she wiped his cheek with her thumb.

Even after she got it, her touch unintentionally lingered. Both of them stared at each other as Jessica pulled away, and Carina said, “No, no! Hold that pose!”

Jessica froze as she saw Carina trying to take a picture. Damien quickly wrapped his arm around the small of her back as Jessica smiled while turning towards Damien.

Carina scoffed, “Come on, be more romantic than that!”

Jessica glanced at Damien before leaning up and hissing in his ear, “You owe me. Big.”

Damien cringed and said, “I know, fuck, I know.” Before he leaned down to hold Jessica close and plant a kiss on her cheek while Jessica gave a big smile for the camera. Years earlier, gaining experience from posing for royal media paid off as she effortlessly made it look natural.

“Perfect! God, you’re so photogenic, Jessica. Where did you learn to pose like you’re on a red carpet?”

Damien released her as Jessica shrugged, “Just practice, I guess.”

Jessica started walking with everyone who all talked amongst each other, including her in the conversation here and there, before a body of water caught her eye. Some benches and a stone Koi pond were among the red and orange trees.

She felt her heart tightening at the sight of the koi fish swimming around and a couple with their little boy watching the fish.

Damien noticed first as he asked, “Hey, Preciosa?”

She walked towards the pond away from the group as Damien looked concerned and asked again, “Jessica?”

“I’ll just be a moment.” Jessica softly gave as she watched the koi fish.

Damien stopped to watch her from afar as his sisters walked over to the koi pond. The only one behind was Damien’s Mom, who stood beside him watching the beautiful Koi pond, and Jessica.

Damien watched Jessica as she looked curiously at the Koi pond. He was falling for her hard, and there was just a softness about her when she fed the fish. His sisters were quite taken with her, with remarks here and there to Damien throughout the day about how she seemed to fit into their idea of who Damien should be with.

“Ángel, I want to talk to you about this girl.”

“Si Mamá dime (Yes, mom, talk to me).” Damien scrunched up his nose and listened to his Mother.

“I’m not a fool; this girl isn’t your girlfriend.”

Damien blinked at that as he looked down at his Mother and asked, “How do you know?”

“You look at her like you want her to be yours.”

“That obvious?” Damien gave a sigh.

“Si Hijo. What makes her special to you?”

“Mamá, when I’m with her, the nightmares go away. She makes me smile and laugh, and I can tell her anything, and she won’t judge me. I’m falling in love with her. I don’t know when it happened, but it’s happening.”

Damien looked over at Jessica, laughing with Lucilla about something as Lucilla pointed at the water. “I want more with her; I’m just afraid to ask.”

“I like her. I like her for you a lot. She is hilarious, and you can tell she is very bright. Hope likes her a lot too, and she is hard to win over.”

“Wow, Hope doesn’t like anyone.” Damien chuckled.

“This girl, is she a family girl?”

“Yea, she has two brothers she is very close to. They are cops; one is Captain, the other a Lieutenant. I actually know the older brother.”

“What about her parents?”

“They passed away. Her father was a detective, and her Mother was a Social Worker.

“I see she knows what it’s like for you and your work.”

“She is a cop too. Don’t worry; she is nothing like Alana.”

“Oh, that I can tell. Alana cared about herself. If she were like Alana, she wouldn’t be here.”

“Mamá, what do I do?”

“Sometimes you have to be willing to lose.”

Damien gazed at Jessica as she turned to give him a soft smile from the koi pond. His Mother’s words rang out in his head as they both stared at one another. Jessica’s smile slowly faded as she stared back, some unspoken conversation going on as they both struggled with what they wanted and what they allowed past the walls they built up.

Damien calmly walked over to her as she returned to looking at the koi fish with his sisters. Damien looked down at the fish as he stood beside her.

“They’re pretty, aren’t they?” Jessica finally said as Damien hummed in agreement.

They watched a bit longer before Jessica released a long sigh. Thinking to herself about her unspoken past. Of the child she lost, they nicknamed Koi, of the life she could have had with Liam.

Jessica frowned slightly as she thought, ‘Look at you, Jessica. You have a great guy standing next to you with a family that already accepts you. You have the opportunity for something here that you didn’t have in Cordonia if you just let it go and move on.’

Jessica sucked in a breath with a tight-lipped smile and thought, ‘I already said my goodbyes to Liam but not to you, Koi. I’ll never stop loving you or who you could have been, but I think I need to start learning to try and find some happiness in all of this.’ She almost felt tears in her eyes, but she closed them and held onto the sad smile on her face before walking away from the pond.

Damien watched her intently, a frown in place as he studied her. He followed her as his sisters and Mother started walking, pumpkins in hand, to pay and call it a day.

“...are you alright?” Damien asked.

Jessica nodded and replied, “Yeah, I think so.”

She and Damien hung back as he spoke in low tones, “Thanks again for this.”

“No, it was…It was fun. I actually enjoyed today with your family.”

Damien released a hearty chuckle, “Oh, don’t deny it. You secretly love my team.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I did…But you owe me for wearing a stupid Mets Jersey in public, and now Carina has it on camera.”

“Is that why your team ate shit last night?”

Damien lowered his head to whisper as he slung an arm around her as they walked, “Remember what else happened last night?”

Jessica smirked, “Remind me again later…You do owe, after all…SIR”

“All night if you need.” He promised as they walked side by side, Jessica leaning into him for the first time openly in public as Damien smiled to himself and held her close.

@choicesmonthlychallenge

@choicesficwriterscreations

@lovealexhunt

@fictober-event

#writers on tumblr #writeblr #fictober22 #liam x jessica #liam x mc #the royal romance #king liam #trr #jessica x liam #trr fanfic #liam rys #prefectmatch #damien nazario #damien x mc #perfect match #play choices #choices fanfic

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eternalshopgirl · 8 months

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: New Paw Patrol Chase Police Pumpkin Push-Ins 5 pieces. Add to your own pumpkin..

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joeygass-blog · 2 years

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Pumpkin Decoration Marvel Ironman Wood 5 Pc Pumpkin Halloween Push In Gemmy.

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foreverindreamlandd · 2 years

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✵ Plus Size!Reader (honestly all of them could have a plus size reader, these ones are just specifically written as such)

⬻ Personal favorite

☾ >1k notes

For updates when I post, follow my library blog @dreamlanddlibrary and turn on notifications!

SERIES:

To Be Wanted ⬻✵☾

All your life you have wanted to be loved by someone. But when you don’t look like most “beautiful” women, you learn to stop wanting. You’d never expect someone like the amazing, kind, beautiful Bucky Barnes would desire someone like you. *Finished*

The Sergeant’s Heart ⬻✵

Sergeant Bucky Barnes has just joined the 107th, and he’s keen on learning the ins and outs of war from the best medic in the regiment, you. *Finished*

Out of Bounds

Bucky is captain of the Howlers soccer team and you’re his favorite camera person. That is, when you’re not mindlessly putting yourself in harm’s way for the perfect shot. *Hiatus*

In the Embers ⬻✵☾

It’s been years since you’ve been home, and you didn’t expect it to be in the aftermath of your life falling apart. Though much has changed over time, one thing has stayed the same: Bucky Barnes is still the boy next door, and there’s no running from him now. *Finished*

Sweeter Than Honey ☾

You're bestselling author Tony Stark's new PA on tour with him in Dublin, Ireland. When things start to go wrong and you end up with a flat tire in the middle of nowhere, a handsome, blue-eyed Irishman named Bucky Barnes comes to your rescue. *Finished*

Awake My Soul ⬻☾

It's been five years since the zombies started invading, and despite everything you've been through, you've survived up until this point. And now you must survive your most dangerous challenge yet...the grumpy, untrusting, captivating Bucky Barnes. *Finished*

ONE-SHOTS:

Mended Fragments

Steve Rogers finds his best friend Bucky Barnes sitting on the floor in a comatose state, and texts you to ask for you to come over and help Bucky fight the demons haunting him.

Endurance Training

You and your super soldier bestie Bucky Barnes are on a run that suddenly turns into a serious conversation that almost pushes the boundaries of your relationship.

Memories ⬻

Five years after Thanos snapped the love of your life to dust, the reader looks back on the time they spent in Wakanda. How you met the broken man who was the Winter Soldier and watched him become the White Wolf.

I’m Here

Bucky supports the reader during a depressive episode.

Roses and Plums

Bucky asks you to be his date to Scott and Hope’s wedding.

Happy Birthday, Buck ⬻

Reader decides to spend a year celebrating all of the birthdays Bucky missed over the last 70+ years.

Beach Day ⬻✵☾

Beach days are always uncomfortable for you, especially when you decide to show off your new two-piece bathing suit in front of your friends. Your best friend and secret crush Bucky Barnes seems to like it more than you thought he would… (College!AU)

Hurricane, Shmurricane

Reader wishes that Bucky could be there to ride out Hurricane Henri together.

Need more of that blue in my life

Reader discovers she’s pregnant, and the reaction from her husband Bucky is not what she expected.

Tagged to Your Heart

The story of when Bucky gave reader his dog tags.

Pumpkin Carving

Drabble request about Bucky and reader carving pumpkins!

The Red Henley ⬻✵

Reader puts on Bucky’s red henley which brings up a whole mess of insecurities.

More Than Words

All the ways Bucky says he loves you just with his body language. (Headcanon)

Dropped Pens & Bee Stings

Reader is having a shit day, but luckily her boyfriend Bucky gets there just in time for when the dam breaks.

Just Need a Hug ✵

Reader’s boss is a POS, and Bucky is not gonna let that slide.

Forget Me Not ⬻

Bucky is in Wakanda working with Shuri to wipe out the remnants of the Winter Soldier, and to wipe out any memories he has of you…

Sick Day

Bucky cares for an under the weather reader. (Headcanon)

All That’s Left ⬻

After years of being on the run from everyone, all Bucky had to his name was a backpack containing his most precious belongings. But when he was captured, it was taken, and all he wants is to get it back.

Snoopy and the Cadillac ⬻

It’s your first Christmas after Steve decided to leave you to spend his life with Peggy, and all you wanted to do was stay as far away from holiday cheer as possible. But then a familiar face shows up at your door and changing everything.

Let me take care of my sweet girl ✵

Reader has body image issues during the holidays, and Bucky is just the best.

Food, Bed, or Bath?

Reader and Bucky’s welcome home routine when he returns from missions. (Headcanon)

My Heart in Full Bloom

Bucky simply cannot live with the fact that you have never been given flowers before…

The Dream Within Each Petal

Bucky’s reaction to Reader giving him flowers

Whatever Happens, Wherever I Go

You wake up to a voicemail from Bucky, and suddenly your worst nightmare has become a reality.

Needy

Bucky has a love/hate relationship with you working from home. He LOVES that you're with him 24/7, but HATES that sometimes you're forced onto a zoom call and he can only look, not touch..

don’t wanna leave

A tender, bittersweet moment where Bucky and reader dance together in the kitchen. Inspired by the song “ceilings.”

Main Masterlist

Artwork by the masterful @charlie-hunnam

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes

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dreamgrlarchive · 4 years

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Self Care 101 🦋

In this post I’ll be outlining my current routines as they relate to self care. I’ll cover everything from head to toe making sure not to skip your spirit. You cannot be a girl of ANYONE’S dreams if you aren’t taking care of the most important person in your world: you.

mornings:

wash face with gentle cleanser from curology, tone with organic Mamonde rose water and finish with rich moisturizer and spf30

brush teeth with activated charcoal toothpaste by Crest and baking soda for whitening and gum clarity

take vitamins : woman’s one a day, hair skin nails, biotin, vitamin c

drink glass of water then a cup of tea

black tea, raw cane sugar, a lemon slice, ginger

good for energy, immune function, and detox

showers:

this may sound so extra (😅), but depending on my hairstyle, I sometimes like to let the shower run for about five minutes with the door closed to create a sauna effect. this is especially if I have a mask on my hair.

my showers usually are about 20-30 minutes

I have a back brush, pink exfoliating gloves, a loofah, and tree hut body scrubs and I use them ALL.

I wash first with my dove beauty bar to assure clean skin before washing with EITHER my OGX Shea So Soft body wash or Dove Renewing Peony and Rose Oil body wash to add scent or silkiness to my skin.

hair removal:

I haven’t yet mastered the art of waxing myself so I’m still riding the shave wave. *when I do I’ll make a post 4 that*

I exfoliate throughly before AND after shaving

I shave my entire body using Tree Hut Shaving Oil and a nice conditioner I’m not using. This leaves my skin super soft and silky and helps the razor to glide without skipping. I use Gillette Venus. no less than five blades, anything less is ASKING for nicks and a hard time.

when I don’t feel like shaving, I use Nair. use at your own risk. yes, I Nair my ENTIRE BODY. only leaving it on for about 7 minutes I rinse in WARM (not hot) water and exfoliate afterwards. it is imperative to moisturize after to avoid irritation. however, Nair is much easier to do than shaving and seems to last an inkling longer.

after shaving, once a month, I pull out my KENZZI. it’s an IPL device and it has helped to slow the growth of my hair. it’s noticeable for us long, thick haired chicks. I use the second to lowest setting as a melanated babe, as the higher settings could burn me.

I know many endorse the hair on women movement and I can understand it. But I personally love my skin silky, hairless, and smooth.

nights:

after eating dinner, I wash my face and apply the tiniest bit of glycolic serum and my curology night cream. my skin has been the best it’s been in a few years. then I brush my teeth and rinse with peroxide.

every four days I give myself a facial

my favorite face masks:

The Ordinary Salicylic Acid mask

The Ordinary AHA + BHA mask

all Tony Moly sheet masks *luvvvvv those*

GLAMGLOW SUPERMUD clearing treatment *fav*

Peter Thomas Roth Pumpkin Enzyme mask

Peter Thomas Roth Cucumber Gel mask

Peter Thomas Roth Irish Moor Mud mask

Peter Thomas Roth Rose Stem Cell Bio-Repair Gel mask

ORIGINS Clear Improvement mask

An at home honey and aloe mask

I apply a rich facial moisturizer and get to bed.

I then write in my planner my new plans and what I did that day if I hadn’t already. then after that I script and make mood boards in my diary. then I read a little. currently reading: Making Faces by Kevyn Aucoin, and Live Like a hot Chick by Jodi Lipper.

emotions:

I talk to my grandmother about my feelings, she helps me sort things out. please try to find one person you trust to talk to, my messages are always open. 💓 I often overthink. I suffer from anxiety and clinical depression. sometimes these things make me FEEL limited. these experiences wax and wane. I remind myself that the darkness is temporary.

I write in my diary what I feel and track my emotions for potential patterns. I don’t manufacture or sugar coat my feelings, I just talk.

sometimes you need a good cry. let it out. clean your slate. you’ll always feel better, sometimes great after a hard, deep sobbing cry.

I try to get out of the house and get some sunlight. it helps brighten my mood sometimes.

baths:

LOVE taking baths I don’t care what the status quo is about dirt. just rinse off. I love wrapping my hair up and soaking in warm-hot water.

first I run the water. as it’s running I add my bubble bath, then body wash, then my Shea Moisture fragrant coconut oil. it smells soooo good, literally yummy. then I inevitably scream from dipping my toe in the hot water. finally I get in, scrub down my body, emphasis on feet. then I wash, and just relax. I’ve even fallen asleep in the tub once, I was so zen.

careful not to soak too long or overdo it with your products. synthetic materials lingering in your lady bits for too long cause cause infections like bv or uti

some women add tea tree oil, acv, or even Aztec clay to their baths for wellness purposes. I love adding essential oils to my baths to relax and the natural scent is just great 🥺

when I get out I always put something that feels lush and soft on. *invest in super soft, comfy bath towels, they’ll make you feel so luxurious and soft after a nice relaxing bath*

flower:

the yoni is something sensitive that needs to be taken care of thoroughly, and differently than the rest of your body. it’s not recommended to use soaps down there, it can unbalance things and make you itch. also make you prone to infection. this is why I use clear warm water to clean. if I use soap it’s a sensitive, gentle formula. don’t ever try to clean the cavity. she’s a self cleaning vessel.

to shave, I trim my hair down as close as possible and use a FIVE BLADE razor with conditioner and take my time. making sure not to pass a spot twice, I apply moderate pressure and move slowly. when finished I rinse and scrub gently. I PAT not rub dry. to finish off I apply TendSkin, and salicylic acid to avoid ingrowns. once that’s soaked in I apply shea butter. very soft and pretty 🌸

⚠️ DO NOT PUT ON TIGHT PANTIES OR RIGHT PANTS AFTER SHAVING. it restricts the hairs and causes irritation and ingrowns. throw on some comfy loose shorts for a while, let it breathe

dietary needs:

drink plenty of water

cranberry juice

vitamin c

minimal red meat

probiotics

at home vagacial for the high maintenance girlies:

*make any necessary extractions with pointed and slanted tweezers *

scrub:

brown sugar, tea tree oil, a little shea butter

exfoliating and anti inflammatory

mask:

baking soda, fresh lemon juice, vitamin e oil, papaya juice, gelatin

fixes discoloration and brightens the skin while softening

moisturize:

aloe vera gel, rose hip seed oil

smelling sweet:

ah yes, my favorite part. I love fragrance so much. I love to smell like you could literally break off a piece of me and eat it.

I find that using fragrant washes and oils make your scent more strong and help it linger. I already mentioned the body washes I use. the tree hut scrubs I use smell amazing also. I alike to add essential oils and man made scents like strawberry and chocolate to my Shea Moisture oil (so yummy).

I also use a fragrant lotion, eau de parfum, and fragrance mist.

here’s a list of some of my favorites:

perfumes:

jimmy choo fever

coach floral blush

yves saint laurent mon paris

victoria’s secret bombshell

victoria’s secret scandalous

valentino

fragrance mists:

victoria’s secret velvet petals, pure seduction, warm and cozy

bath and body works a thousand wishes, fiji pineapple palm, warm vanilla sugar, black raspberry vanilla

oils:

coconut

sweet almond

peppermint

chocolate scented essential oil

strawberry scented essential oil

orange

grapefruit

eucalyptus

sweetest combo ever:

vanilla extract, coconut oil, shea butter, and your favorite perfume. you’ll be smelling like a warm cupcake with extra sprinkles and icing 🧁

layering:

oil, lotion, eau de parfum, mist

pulse points:

inside elbows and knees, in between thighs, inner arms, behind ears, back of neck, ankles

hair:

it’s super important to keep your hair moisturized. quenched tresses move, grow, shine and bounce. dry hair is limp, lackluster, and extremely fragile

my fav diy deep conditioner:

a banana, half an avocado, three spoons of honey, an egg, a spoonful of mayo, a spoonful of coconut, olive, and castor oil each

strength from egg, avocado, mayo and olive oil

moisture from avocado and honey

cover damp CLEAN hair and scalp in mixture and cover with a plastic bag, then towel for an hour, rinse thoroughly, and seal in moisture

fav hair products:

castor oil

fusionplex conditioner and mask

Aussie conditioner

wella goji berry mask

coconut oil

style booster edge control

helpful tips:

when shampooing, concentrate on the scalp and wash thoroughly twice, as the suds will naturally cleanse your stands without drying and stripping them

rinse hair with apple cider vinegar every now and then. it restores your ph balance, smooths the cuticle, clarifies the strands, and adds shine

always add oil and leave ins to DAMP hair, never dry; this will ensure you’re sealing in moisture

try to use smooth fabrics to dry your hair, bath towels encourage frizz and breakage

hands and feet:

and last but not least, let’s cover manicuring and pedicuring.

it’s super important to make sure your nails are either DONE or filed, shaped, and smooth. at home maintenance is super easy. make a point to scrub your hands and feet well when bathing. make sure to stay on top of your cuticles by trimming or pushing them back. I like the look that pushing them gives. I use an orangewood stick, metal pusher and cuticle softener to make the process super easy and safe. after I’m done I add my pineapple scented cuticle oil. I do this on my fingers and toes.

invest in a rasp and pumice stone for your feet and use these gently every two weeks after soaking them in warm foot salts. rough usage can cause cuts and irritation. in between treatments keep your feet soft by slathering them in a moisturizing foot cream, cocoa/shea butter then oil to seal it all in. buy some soft thick aloe infused socks and wear them to sleep. you’ll thank me 😉

for info on how I do my nails click this

well, that’s all I’ve got. I truly hope you enjoyed my post! it’s always fun sharing my advice with you all. any feedback is appreciated and question is welcomed ♡

#my posts #self care #high maintenance #the prissy girl agenda #dream girl journey

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terrortalesv · 3 years

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uncle skips time :-)

Benson has Skips watch Stella when something unforeseen arises.

Trade with @tr85n

Skips leans against his van and sips at a cup of coffee that is slowly but surely going cold. He looks up to see his boss approaching him hurriedly, holding his daughter’s hand. The yeti raises his index and middle fingers in greeting and places the empty cup on a nearby workbench.

“Skips,” Benson addresses him, sounding slightly out of breath, “can you do me a favour and watch Stella today? I know it’s short notice, but something’s come up and Mordecai and Rigby both have plans and–”

“Yes.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll look after her, just go do your thing, Benson,” Skips puts a large hand on his boss’s shoulder and offers a small smile.

“You sure? You’re not too busy?”

“Yeah, I’ve got nothin’ goin’ on.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks, Skips.”

With that, Benson crouches down to give Stella a kiss on the cheek, then leaves, offering a “bye, Pumpkin!” as he goes.

—

“So, what’d you wanna do, Sweet Pea? D’you need to eat or has Dad taken care of that already?” Skips gets down on one knee to be slightly closer to her eye level.

“Yeah, I just had breakfast,” Stella bounces on the balls of her feet as she speaks, tone of voice much more cheery than that of most people he talks to at work. He can’t help but smile at that.

“And what’s the plan for today?”

The little girl looks at the ground for a moment, appearing deep in though, before the answer flies out of her.

“Blanket fort!” she shrieks, throwing her arms up into the air.

“Blanket fort?” Skips can recall Mordecai and Rigby mentioning one of those before, can form a vague image in his head of what it might look like, but is otherwise lost, “care to explain?”

“It’s a fort made of blankets and pillows and stuff! And you sit in it and it’s fun!”

He supposes that makes sense.

“So, all we need’s a few blankets and pillows?”

“Oh, and a couch,” Stella draws a rectangle in front of her with her index fingers to illustrate this.

“Oh.” Skips blinks. He doesn’t have one of those.

She seems to notice, because she becomes silent and thinks again for a second.

“Follow me! I know the perfect place!” the little girl grabs his finger and starts walking, to which the yeti responds by skipping slowly behind her.

—

Soon, they are standing in the living room of the house in the middle of the park, surrounded by a large pile of seemingly every pillow, blanket, throw rug and stuffed animal in the vicinity.

Stella stands back as Skips moves the coffee table out of the way and pushes the armchair up against the couch. When he is done, she starts laying pillows down on the floor, taking care to layer several on top of each other for maximum comfort. The yeti tosses the blankets over the couch, leaving a large gap between the ones at the front to serve as a doorway.

Stella finishes the project by placing two plushies in front of the fort, “so they can be the greeters,” she explains.

—

“Gah!” Stella cries, “Unc-ie Skips — I mean, princess! Help, the tiger is attacking me!” She rolls around on her back, holding a plush cat to her face, simulating an attack.

“Don’t worry, princess, I’ll save you!” Skips simply grabs the toy with one hand and puts it in a corner, then places a cushion in front of it to prevent any possibility of escape.

Stella sits back up, breathing heavily, “thanks. You’re… really strong.”

They both burst out giggling.

—

“Have you been in love before?” The question comes out of nowhere and catches the yeti off guard.

He is silent for a second, but decides to answer truthfully, “yeah.”

Stella stares up at him and settles into her spot on the floor, quietly prompting him to elaborate further. Skips sighs. As painful as it is to think about, maybe sharing the story with her would help some.

“Her name was Mona. We met at school. And, yeah. I loved her a lot.” He gently pulls a gold chain with a locket out of his back pocket.

“What’s that?”

The yeti carefully opens the locket to reveal an old picture of himself, whom Stella recognises, and a woman, whom she doesn’t.

“Is that her? She’s really pretty.”

Skips nods sadly.

She stares at the pictures, “can you tell me the whole story?”

And so he does. He tells her the same story he told Mordecai and Rigby all those years ago. He talks about how he’d been expelled from every school he’d attended up to that point, about meeting his immortal friends and the first run-ins with Klorgbane. He talks about meeting Mona, their connection, the skipping and planning of the prom. The Fists of Justice. How pretty Mona looked in her prom dress. How much fun they had that night, the way they danced.

As he’s recounting every little detail, Stella listening intently through it all, he feels tears brimming at his eyes, but refuses to let them spill out.

He takes a short break to breathe before talking about the fight. The next part he doesn’t mention in detail. He simply says, “and now she’s… gone.”

By this point, the little girl is looking up at him in awe, holding one of the plushies to her chest.

“Wow.”

—

Skips eats a pudding cup and makes a big show of listening as Stella rambles about whatever comes to her mind. He nods, shakes his head, mumbles in agreement, exaggerates his facial expressions and occasionally replies to her. He isn’t even sure if she’s actually talking to him, but he does it anyway. It’s the polite thing to do, he thinks. From what he can see, from where he is sitting, she’s having fun. And he has to admit to himself that he is too.

“Anyway, there was a shark in the lake but that’s okay because Applesauce got into a fight with him and saved us!” She waves her arms around excitedly as she tells this totally true story that definitely happened.

“No way!” the yeti places his hands on his cheeks and widens his eyes.

“Uh-huh! And there was a rainbow and it was really, really pretty and then we all walked off into the sunset. But Daddy said it was too early for a sunset and we turned around and it was actually a explosion!”

“What?!” Skips gasps, “you must surely have the most exciting life of all, Sweet Pea.”

“Yeah!” Stella bounces up and down on her knees, “but you have stories too. I bet you’ve got like a gazillion of ‘em!”

“Oh, no, none as exciting as yours.” He chuckles.

—

After his long day away, Benson approaches the house. He stops when he hears the sounds of giggling and chatting coming from inside. One of the voices is obviously his daughter, the other much more gruff.

He sneaks into the living room and stands there for a few seconds before taking a peek into the fort. It surprises him to see his employee sitting next to his daughter, Skips’ head partially obscured by a blanket, both of them wearing princess dresses and pretending to sip from tiny teacups. A few stuffed animals have food stains around their mouths.

“Oh, Mrs. Bear, you are so right, this has been fun!” the yeti says to one of the plushies, poorly faking a British accent.

Benson snorts. Neither of them seem to notice him, they’re clearly too busy.

“Hey, you guys!”

His boss’s voice prompts Skips to jump and drop his teacup.

“Daddy!” Stella cries, at the same time Skips yells “Benson!”

“You’re back,” it’s just the yeti’s voice this time. He clears his throat.

“Yeah, I’m back,” Benson chuckles, “can I come in?”

Only if no one ever finds out about this, Skips thinks, but his mouth simply says “yes.”

#regular show #bendad au #mywriting

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cinnamonruts · 3 years

Text

02 | the entrance exam

SUMMARY → ( l/n ) ( y/n ) is a bright student, now standing in-front of her dream school. ready to start her journey to become a pro-hero; being put in life threatening in situation and making companions along the way. the last person she thought she would have running in her head on loop, is the explosive blond with a raging inferiority complex that somehow can’t keep his voice down… odd.

PAIRING → bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

WORD COUNT → 1.6 k

SERIE MASTERLIST → PREVIOUS | NEXT

FINDING YOUR DESIGNATED CHANGING room, you move into it. Trying to stay as much in the zone and focused as you change your shoes; “I love your uniform!” a voice says right next to you.

Instantaneously snapping you out of your focus, “The red and brow, so cute. Is that from your school?” a pink girl says, waving over your clothing.

“Uh, yeah.” You nod, a little surprised at her sudden interest in your uniform. Taking a seat on the bench, she proceeds to tie her shoes, “What school do you go to?” she smiles softly, glancing up from her shoes.

“Oda Mikio Middle School.”

Nodding at your answer, “Oh, that makes sense. I go to Mustafa Private Middle School.” smiling proudly at her for on her shoes, she stands up from the bench. Frowning as you make no movement to change out of your uniform, “You’re not changing?” she asks.

“No, I thought it would be good practice.”

Tilting her head, the confusion written all over her features, “For what?”

“Every hero should be ready for a fight in any situation. No time to change into their hero costume.” you say, which was a roundabout way of saying neither you nor your family had thought about gym clothing, but you couldn’t look unprepared in front of your competition.

Nodding at your words, she stands up, “That’s really smart, I just have my old clothes on.” she says, waving over her clothing, “Anyhow, what battlefield are you assigned to?”

“Battle Centre D. You?” you ask, hanging up your bag, “F.” she replies. Nodding to her answer, the two of you move to the door, the arrows pointing to different sides for your entrance exam, “Hello, listeners, be sure to make it to your battle centres. The exams start in a moment, rock on.” Present Mic calls out through the speakers.

Walking to your battlefield, you glance over your shoulder, “See you on the first day.” you say, waving at the girl. Making her brows furrow, “Of what?” she asks visibly confused.

“Classes.”

A smile tucks up her lips, “Okay.” she nods, holding her thumbs up, “see you then.” pumping her fist in the air. Turning around, you try to regain your focus, “Run in, kick to the curb, gather the points.” you whisper, following the arrows to your battle centre, which is just walking forward.

Arriving at the battle centre, the doors are already open. Many of the contestants are either just looking around or talking amongst themselves. Likely waiting for any type of buzzer to go off, much like yourself.

“Hey, there!” the popular radio show host calls out loudly, “Go on, there are no count downs ins real life, get on moving!” Present Mic calls out from one of the towers. Furrowing your brows you wonder how he even got up there as he violently swings his arm around.

Turning to your wrist you set a timer on your watch for ten minutes. Letting your arm fall to the side. You glance up seeing that everyone already started running, blinking at a couple of them trying to push each other yet all of them go in the same direction.

Shaking your head, you turn to the left, jogging down the street. Waiting for the bots to arrive to use your quirk, “Damn it, where are they?” you curse.

A low humming makes you turn around. Eyes widening at house massive these ‘faux villains’ are. Glancing at your watch, only thirty seconds passed. A small smile tucks up your lips, “I got this.”

Focussing on your breathing, the world starts to slow down, smiling at how the robot is seemingly standing still as it is now slowly reaching you. Jogging up to it, you walk around the bot, “There was a button here, right?” you mumble out confused, glancing all over the bot.

There is just more and more of the green metal, gasping a smile tucks up your lips, “On the neck, huh, smart.” reaching up, you turn the switch. Your watch telling you you still have nine minutes and 30 seconds left, not even a second passed.

Grinning, you shake your head, continuing to use your quirk to your advantage, “And people say there are not enough hours in a day.” you roll your eyes, running down the street. Passing your competition with ease, jumping up the arm from the robot you take your time.

Switching your quirk off, you flip the switch. Jumping from one to the next repeating the same motion all over again. Letting the four robots crash to the floor, ‘That should be twelve points.’ You think to yourself, taking another peek at your wrist making sure you have enough time; nine minutes left.

Running normally, you take a couple of deep breaths, trying to keep the nausea at bay. Seeing your next series of victims. Speeding up, their heads turn to you. Reaching its arm out, you take the chance by jumping on it. Twisting your body, you take its metal head between your legs, leaning back, you squeeze your thighs.

With all your force, swinging backwards, holding your hands out for the fall. Reaching the ground, you flip back safely landing on your feet. Letting the head fall, your new points are added to your overall score.

Shaking your head, you take a fight stance. Getting ready for the next, jumping on to its arm, slowing the world down, you kick the metal head, letting the world regain its speed again, the mere force from your speed does the rest, letting it fly off its hinges. Jumping off, you grin at the last on the line; who suffers the same faith as it just decapitated friends.

Grinning happily at your work, you move down the street. Not having any problem finding more bots, “How many go these bots are there?” you ask confused, “I have no clue.” snapping your head at the sudden voice, a girl with bright orange hair stands next to you.

“I got these.”

“They are all yours.”

Running towards the, you are not quite sure how to feel about her handing you the points. Taking a deep breath, you push it to the back of your mind, “You damn sure they are mine.” you grumble, switching them off.

Jumping to the floor, you let time resume. Having them crash down. Tilting your head over your shoulder, a little happy at the flabbergasted look on her face, “How the—”

“You got the next one, right?” smiling at the possible new friend you made. Nodding with determination her hands grow bigger as she clenching them in massive fists, “Definitely.”

Taking the one pointer in her hands, crushing the bot like it was a soda can. Making it very clear that she got it. Turning the corner, you glance back at the ginger, seeing her smash them without any issue.

The never-fading nausea, being suppressed as you smash the robots for their points. Switching the switch when you couldn’t muster up your needed speed.

Rolling around, you hold on to their arm. Flipping over much like a gymnast on a beam, you let go, trusting in yourself and your abilities to safely land on the ground. Letting the remaining two crash into each other.

“I wanted that one.” a sudden voice says, making you swiftly turn around. Eyes widening at the yellow hair with the black lightning bolt dyed into it. Almost panicking at how wrong all of this could have gone. You never even noticed their presents.

Shaking your self out of it, you remember that you are in an exam, “You will get the next.” you say. Jogging away, your stomach slushes are as the sour taste returns into your mouth. Squeezing your eyes, you swallow it back; damn, drawback—

A sudden shake of the ground, completely taken you out of your thoughts. Hearing the alarm blaring, many students run past you. Looking up, your body freezes down, “The one pointer.” you whimper.

Watching it come closer and closer, a student stands just as frozen as you. Eyes widening at his close proximity to the robot, your body moves before you register what is happening.

Letting the world slip by, you take them into your arm. Pulling them with you into your reality. Jumping out of the way, you let the world continue on its course, having the metal arm slam into the ground instead of the indigo boy.

“Are you okay?” You ask the physically shaken up guy. Taking deep breaths his eyes move all around the place, “Yeah, I- I’m fine.” He nods, coming back to planet earth, “Thank you.”

Smiling, you shake your head, “It was no biggy.” you wave off. Peeking a glance at your watch, “We have one minute left,” you breathe out, completely having lost track of time, “sure you’re fine?”

Nodding, he has a small reassuring smile, “Okay,” you nod, backing away slowly, “the off switch is on the back.”

“What?”

“The bots, their off switch is on the back,” turning the corner, you take deep breaths, slowly the world goes slower again. Only to have a wave of sour invade your taste buds.

Covering your mouth, you run to the trash can. Spilling your guts out like a foghorn. Silently praying these are real garbish bags and not just for the exam.

“Time’s up!” the voice hero calls out, a loud alarm following his announcement.

Freezing, your eyes widen, trying to no avail to mentally count how many points you have. Let’s just hope it’s enough… the encouragement and confidence your family whispered into you slowly seeping away.

A/N: what u think?????????? LET ME KNOW

in the next chapter you can expect;

— some domestic stuff

— just very nice family fluff <3

PREVIOUS CHAP. | TAGLIST | NEXT CHAP.

@ganimor @jazzylove @ukaisgratefulwhore @akaashisus @annimalq @b3anis @xxbynohexx @cozy-pumpkin @cryptiicc @nctjaemin @minifruity @redsakura101 @katsyhera @surrealist-insomniac @softiebadbitch @imsuperawkward @tsukkisbae ( i wasnt able to tag the crossed users, i’m so sorry )

#canary #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x reader slowburn #mha x reader #mha x you #mha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha fluff #mha fluff #bakugou fluff #bnha comfort #mha comfort #bakugou comfort

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moonnhare · 2 years

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we both slept in familiar-unfamiliar places last night. i had music on. you probably did too. i spent the last moments of my evening wiping up the tequila splattered over my desk, running my hands through my roommate’s head of flame, and scratching metaphors into a little red journal. i have been the doctor lately, and i am okay with that. around me, cups are empty, but my urn is brimming and spilling over. i’ll be the bartender, then; come here. you are afraid of needles, so i will spoon feed you from miles away.

in all honesty, in all transparency, i am doing well. i’m doing so well. you always saw me in dark flashes. i feel different now. brighter. the taste of pitch has faded. my lips are wiped clean. i’m covered in scars from blades and fire and women’s fingernails and striking asphalt, but each of them is feathered in my mind. i can feel myself opening in this city like a flashy pumpkin blossom, and i know i will use what i collect in and outside of classrooms to fruit. i am finally happy. i am drunkenly screaming childhood songs and sinking to the floor in laughter. i am in demand all the time. it feels good to be wanted. it feels good, too, to accept and extend invitations. i get drained sometimes, but in a good way: a steady stream still trickles into me, and i am full again within a couple days.

sorry. i wasn’t trying to brag. i’ve been structuring like a novelist lately, all setup and tie-ins. this is hardly poetry. i want you to know how good i have been in the hopes it’ll ease your guilt. i have so much available for the taking. the confessional is off to the side but we’re both free to step into it from time to time. my hands are nimble enough to pluck shrapnel from yours. it’s not like i’m stabbing bloodied steel into myself afterwards; at the end of the day the doctor collects his paycheck and returns to the comforts of home. i’m listening to the songs you sent me and i like them. i’m waiting for you to arrive and i like you.

in waiting to break a wrist i was injured, too. that year [both recent and, more so, ancient] was a minefield and i have never been very agile. i caught my therapist wipe something from his eyes. jesus. we both got ourselves fucked up pretty bad and it’s been a journey to recover from it. i told him that i had learned some very important lessons. i’m telling you this, too: i’ll pour the drinks! i’ve learned how to care for people and, while i am still working on it, when to stop caring for people. i’m learning when to dart close and when to push away. i’m learning how to pour without spilling.

in poetry you found a key. it fits neatly into my front door. come in whenever you like. i am always open for you. a bell jingles when you cross the threshold and i am upon you with a blur of teas and honeypots and lavender fingers. we can sit and you can lay your head in my lap. i’ll be the caretaker until you feel a little better but this time i will do it right, see; i’ll be the laborer but not the martyr. there is no glory in bloodshed. i have learned that again and again. i will probably keep learning it, but for now my skin is made of both iron and linen. i am warm and glowing and you are momentarily the cold one, so i’ll stir a fire in the hearth. i’m saying i have the space to take care of you. it’s an act of devotion between [redacted] and between people. for some reason i feel it is important to tell you that while this is very much rosy in nature, i would still cook for you if it wasn’t. i think it is just because i see you and i like you— i like you in the church, in the gallery, in the meadow and in sunburned park picnics and over endless cups of tea. i like you in long-graduated classes and i like you in scribbles on a phone screen. i like you on calls and i like you over distance and i will still like you at the train station. i like you in bolts of infatuation but i also like the fundamental way all your pieces click together. i like how you are built. i like how you love [me, of course, but more outstandingly: i like how you love people. you shine over friends and over strangers petting dogs on the street. you hover over kitchens you’ve never visited and cry over moments usually taken for granted. i know every person is unique but you stand out of a crowd. i don’t know anybody who loves the way you do.]

rest, recover, enjoy home and enjoy sleeping with your dogs. i know everything you’re feeling is complicated but i know you will find joy in the comforts of a kitchen and in friends and a childhood bed. i’m happy for you. let me know if you need anything. don’t stress yourself out over poetics. i’ll see you soon.

#mine #you are giving me ENOUGH you always have given so much.#tiger trance

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virgil-writes · 3 years

Photo

ash & soot

Long before the Winters come into play, a monster stalks the Forbidden Forest that surrounds the Village. Karl Heisenberg is sent to investigate, and heads deeper into darkness to find his prey, a thorn on his side and someone just like him. (Heisenberg x OC)

chapter 12 - cabin fever

SFW, around 5K words.

chapter 13 - liebchen (ao3 only, smut)

The sheets underneath him were worn but comfortable, ancient-looking in design but well taken care of. The bed frame is barely there, mattress a well-placed lattice away from being on the floor. He can’t remember the last time he’s been on a bed, the last time he’d laid his body down at all, for any reason. His back complains every other second, not because of the comfort of the bedding, but because it had gone without for so long. A wonderfully comfortable blanket covers him up to the hips, the soft mattress almost makes him feel like he is floating. Fuck, he really missed having a proper bed now.

He inspects himself carefully, still not fully convinced this is not a fever-induced hallucination. His hand is where it should be, and so is his leg, and every other part of his body that he recalled having before. There are half a dozen new scars that he can count, all healed over perfectly like they’d opened years ago instead of hours, forming a map of stories he would rather not tell. He is shirtless but is wearing pants now, his trench coat and hat nowhere to be found. He pushes the blanket aside to find the damn woolen slippers waiting for him on a woven rug. It doesn’t take him long to realize where he is, but nothing resembles her, no personal belongings on the nightstand, no desk or mirror or even a dresser. It looked as if the room was rarely visited, kept clean but empty, and he wondered if sleep was a foreign concept to her, too.

Hesitant, tentative movements take him down the ladder and into the living room, and he expects to find her hard at work at something or another, humming a tune while she cooks, petting the goat and telling it asinine, cutesy things in a soft voice. But the house is silent and she is nowhere to be found, the dog sits in front of the closed front door and watches his every move. It is not aggressive but watchful, like it had been given the task of keeping an eye on the ailing man and alerting his owner in case anything was amiss.

“I’m fine, fleabag.” He laughs at the dog and gets a huff in response, an acknowledgment, and the shepherd moves from its post at the door to give him passage if he so desires. Heisenberg gives it a well deserved pat on the head as it passes by, tail wagging hesitantly as it tried to make friends with him. He is glad to be alone - if anyone ever used this against him, he would deny it.

A plate awaits him at the dinner table, and despite his intentions of running out of there before she could see him again, breakfast is an offer he cannot bring himself to refuse. Bread and jam, a robust omelet served with sprinkles of cheese and herbs. He can almost see the aroma the coffee has left behind, and finds the pot on the side of the wood stove, cup and saucer set for him nearby.

He eats slowly and in silence, chews thoroughly before swallowing, as if he fears some abrupt movement would rip reality apart and throw him back into the pit of suffering he found himself in the night before. There is no blood, no pain; no sign of the madness he had come so close to drowning in. He is safe and comfortable, there is good food in his belly and a warm hearth to keep the cold at bay. His problems are far and cannot catch him, and maybe if he keeps stalling to finish breakfast he can stay in this bliss forever. The world is quiet outside, and so are his thoughts, for once in his life.

A shirt and sweater are neatly folded and arranged as to call attention on the couch, no doubt to replace his blood-stained, ragged trench coat. He feels naked without it, he muses as he pulls the moss-colored shirt over his head, and it feels awkward not to wear the hat and the glasses. It would be unpleasant if she were to catch him now, free of his usual regalia; he felt that she would see right through him, stare deep into his eyes and find out all he had worked so hard to hide.

He did not feel like Karl Heisenberg, Lord of the Village, powerful mutant capable of unspeakable acts of violence. He was… Karl, middle-aged immortal man who enjoyed tinkering, was a big fan of meat an potatoes and didn’t know what to do when he had time to waste in his hands. Karl, of German origin but Romanian by birth, come from a long line of miners and steel workers. People of few words and fewer luxuries, hardy of constitution and blunt to a fault. He had been content to be those things and nothing more, to carry on what the Heisenbergs had done for centuries, until life dumped him on his head and led him to where he is today.

But not today, because maybe just today he can forget, and let his gracious host distract him with her mystery and the delicate curves of her buttocks. Perhaps tomorrow he would go back to treating her like a tool he would use and discard, but today she would be none the wiser, and neither would he. The fresh air of the mountain and distance from the cramped confines of the factory would do him good, he decided, help reinvigorate his spirit and refresh his ideas, spark some inspiration. And if not, well, the food was excellent and she was easy on the eyes.

A pair of boots that didn’t belong to him were by the door, just the right size to fit him. He had walked all the way up barefoot, he remembers, but he would very much like to know how she seemed to have everything that he needed readily available. Was she clairvoyant alongside being a healer? Did she bleed money that she could buy information on him from the Duke and the apparel to go with it? He opened the door to find her outside, looking like the cat that ate the canary, a couple meters away from the gate that separated her plot of land from the heart of the forest. She had just emerged from amongst the trees, heavy coat over her shoulders and leather boots to keep the ice off her feet. Her hands were free, no basket for foraging or firewood in her arms. No sign of a knife or any other kind of weapon, but judging by the look on her face, he could swear she had just committed murder. Her eyes told him she would not speak of it.

“Good morning, pumpkin,” he began, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, at least trying to fish an explanation out of her. Instead she pretended to forget the suspicious circumstances and focused on him instead, her face lighting up at the sight of him up and about, like she didn’t expect to see him anytime soon. Had it been that bad?

“Good morning, my lord. Are you well?” Shame and madness aside, he thought, things were going swimmingly. “I hope the accommodations were to your liking.” Once again with the pleasantries, with the caring for what he thought of her hospitality. Did she get a kick out of being so kind? That was the most foolish thing he had ever heard. He tried to come up with a witty response that would catch her off guard, but the night had been long and there was too much tiredness swamping his mind, and all he got was honesty:

“Quite. Hadn’t slept in a bed in decades.” As if to validate his words, he stretched and grunted in approval, pains he did not even realize he’d had gone like magic.

“Well, it remains at your disposal,” was her response as she chuckled, wiping her hands on the embroidered apron before gesturing an invitation. There was dirt on her palms. “It may not be much, but it’ll give you a good night’s rest.” She motioned for him to follow, something he would grow accustomed to.

“You know,” he began, following her into the shed, accepting the shallow basket she handed him. “I bet it’d be even better if you were there with me.” She hummed in approval, a smile as devious as his on her face. The damn woman would always catch him off guard; Heisenberg was not used to being flirted with, words thrown about only half-seriously, only to make the villagers blush and Alcina mad. He had never followed up on any of it, because it was always meant to annoy, and the fact that she not only took him seriously but fired back pulled the rug right from under him. And boy did he like it.

They laughed but spoke no more of it, tension like static in the air, both fully aware the joke had more than a few nuggets of truth to it. A dozen different scenarios ran through his mind, on ways he could take her, mark her, ruin her. Inside the shed, behind the stables, propped on the porch railing. Standing, face pressed against the floor, legs tightly wrapped around his waist. She smirked as she passed by him, smirked like she could tell every image that went through his mind. Smirked like she knew he would not do any of it, that his flirting was just a front and he had never found the courage to take the plunge, not even once. Her wink was the cherry on the cake, the challenge that made his cheeks flush at just the right moment so that she wouldn’t see it.

The morning was spent tending to the animals and the garden, and she instructed him on how to feed the chickens and keep the tiny goat happy. Its name was Prince and it demanded to be treated like royalty, lest the puny humans faced his wrath and for now adorable headbutts. The thing followed him around the whole time, demanded his attention when he collected the eggs from the coop, when he let the horse out of the stable to let it stretch its legs. Only when the weather took a turn for the worse did it scurry off to hide in the pens with its mom, settling down on a nice and dry bundle of hay.

He was put in charge of firewood while she tended the garden. The innuendos were kept to a minimum, but the static never left, and he felt her eyes heavy on him as he brought the axe down, muscles flexing and veins showing on his forearms with the effort. Maybe he ought to do more housework around her, and she’d come around and do his bidding without hesitation.

When the wind blew away his hat, Heisenberg realized there would be no going back to the factory unless he hurried. The storm had been mounting for days now, but he had never been one to pay much attention to the tells of weather; he rarely left his hideout, and with the factory being mostly underground, he would be trapped inside for a few days at best. He had perhaps half an hour for a journey that would take him one or two under such bad weather, and he would have to be lucky for the bridge to hold if it got too bad. She wasted little time paying attention to his inner turmoil, and went about securing the animals instead, making sure they had food, water and a warm place to spend the night. Snow was falling fast by the time she was done, and she ushered him in when he’d stood there too long, snow coming up to his shins already. They brushed off as much as they could on the porch before heading inside, water dripping down their shoulders. There was a long pause as they both watched the storm come down through the living room window, a knowing silence that the day would be long, and the night longer, and neither would be leaving that cabin for at least the next day.

“Well, it seems the bed is yours for the night again, my lord,” were her words as she bolted the door, a hint of joy in her voice. He imagined it was a lonely existence, secluded in the mountains and feared by all, not part of any community and especially not theirs. She always seemed so happy to see him, to see another human whose first instinct wasn’t to attack her. He would pity her if he cared, if his existence wasn’t equally as lonesome, if he hadn’t fashioned it to be exactly what he wished. He’d never needed anyone yapping about everything and nothing in his ears, interrupting his work and diverting his attention from what really mattered. Alcina was insane to have taken in the girls, really; children sounded like an exhausting chore that never ended. He never understood why she always looked so content in spite of it all. His mother always told him one day he would understand, he would want to keep someone close, and then he would want someone else just like them to cherish and love, to teach and share the good and bad moments. He would turn a hundred soon and never quite felt like it; maybe in another hundred years?

His only answer was a lopsided smile, tired and sad, and he tried to brace for the barrage of questions and comments that were certain to come. She was trapped inside her living space with the stranger who emerged from the guts of the forest, come from a village rife with death, where he was sovereign save for Mother dearest. He was the favorite son and the most powerful, gifted with strength and wits and influence and power. Those he could not talk down he could easily buy out, and those he could not buy out he could easily destroy. He was a fabled recluse and rumors ran rampant of the work he’d conduct in his factory, of treasures he kept deep underground. It would be a long day, the first in forever that he would spend so close to another breathing, talking human, and he did not know what to expect aside from a lot of chit-chat and a mounting headache. Surely she would like to know all about him, now that he couldn’t run away from her. Surely she would pry into his motives, pepper in questions about his siblings and the village. A thousand smug answers he conjured in his mind, each snappier than the other, every retort a question thrown back at her. It was only fair, of course; she had thrown much at him, bits and pieces of improbabilities that he couldn’t put together, and if she intended on digging deep, he would do the same.

To his surprise, all she did was leave her boots behind next to him and proceed to ignore him, going about her daily life like he was of no consequence. He found himself stunned, rooted in front of the door with a puzzled expression on his face. She looked at him as if to say well, this is it, make yourself at home and enjoy the day, and once again the domesticity of it all broke him more than words could ever have. He felt weird as he reached for the papers he had brought with him the night before, tucked next to the myriad of books on her shelf. They remained silent when he took a seat at the table and pushed open the schematics to get a better look at them, the potted plant centerpiece serving as a paper weight so he could work properly.

First, she dusted the shelves, reorganized her herb cabinet and found a place for his hat. The curtains were drawn and she took a peek outside, checking on the pens and the stable to make sure the animals would have a comfortable enough day. Then she bound off to a corner of the living room, producing a basket with threads and fabric, yarn and needles that she brought over to the couch. She sat cross-legged, close to the fire, and only spared him a brief glance before tending to her needlework. He felt weird as he reached for the papers he had brought with him the night before, tucked next to the myriad of books on her shelf. They remained silent when he took a seat at the table and pushed open the schematics to get a better look at them, the potted plant centerpiece serving as a paper weight so he could work properly. The first few minutes were nerve-racking, his paranoia telling him he would look away and find her peering curiously over his shoulder, trying to steal away his secrets to use against him as leverage. He read the same words again and again only to realize he hadn’t understood them, eyes turning to her every minute to make sure she still hadn’t moved. She caught him eventually, eyebrow raised in his direction as she tried to make sense of the situation, mouth turning into an “oh” as she jumped off the couch and stood on the tips of her toes to reach the very top of the bookshelf. A minute later and she had brought him a candle and holder, a half-empty box of matches in her other hand. She stood at the other end of the table and pushed it in his direction, still not curious regarding his work, but figuring that, even in daylight, the cabin was dark and he likely was not used to doing things by candlelight. It took him a moment to process and bring the light closer, shocked as he was to see that she intended to leave him to his own devices but cared about his comfort.

The hours were a blur then, when he convinced himself she would not surprise him, and his suspicions were correct; a change of environment had done wonders for his creativity, solutions jumping at him paper after paper, a multitude of new projects and ideas for him to try once he was back at the factory. He can’t remember the last time he had been so productive, the last time he had folded everything in and told himself he was done for the day, because he had done more than enough. She had brought him tea and bread at some point and he had eaten absentmindedly, crumbs and drops of jam staining the papers, but he could not bring himself to care. After tea she had brought him coffee, and then a jug of water, and while he felt a bit like a caged animal being fed periodically, it did wonders to keep his work flowing.

Night had already fallen when he finally took a break, got up to stretch his legs and look around to see just what she had been doing this whole time. Her crafts basket was back in its place, a sock taking shape on the needles. A book abandoned where she was sitting instead, the little witch nowhere near it. Instead she was busy preparing dinner, swaying her hips to a tune but quiet as a mouse, like she was going out of her way to give him peace and quiet. He appreciated it, try as he might to deny it, how she cared without meddling, made herself present but not intruding.

Maybe he should hire her to be his assistant, help him organize the half-done office he had begun building on the upper floors of the factory. She certainly would be great at helping him keep his affairs in order - and by that he meant she would keep him fed, mostly, the one thing he kept forgetting to do and that always set him back. He could provide her with something better than this, surely, her very own quarters with modern wonders such as electricity and proper plumbing, a bathroom of her own, maybe even a fridge. Had she ever seen a fridge before? He imagined she would decorate the place with all manner of silly things that would only serve to gather dust, knickknacks and wreaths and woven things, and that it would smell of flowers and fresh-baked bread. Her responsibilities would include housekeeping and Heisenkeeping - organizing his papers so he wouldn’t lose them, keeping track of all of the family meetings he had to attend, dealing with the Duke for supplies so he wouldn’t have to. He’d reward her handsomely, give her days off, be a good employer unlike his parents had been. Not a bad plan, if he did say so himself.

He had only forgotten to factor in that she was, still, a powerful, self-described blood witch. He had been entertaining himself with the thoughts of having her around as he watched her prepare dinner; she’d gone hunting in the morning, he realized, two hares hanging upside down from an iron ring. She took one down to place it at the cutting board, its insides clean but pelt still intact. He had no doubt she would be skilled at skinning it; when one lives as long as she has with no contact with the outside world, such skills are necessary for survival. What he did not expect was the way she’d go about it: a firm hand grabbed a handful of fur, gave it a gentle twist and pulled, effortlessly, the entire thing coming off in her hand, no cuts and no tears, neck and head and all. He could see the knife from where he was sitting, placed blade down into the ceramic jug.

Heisenberg bent forward to see better when she did it the second time around, and it was as unexplainable and horrifying as the first. Gross but humane, like she simply coaxed the skin to slide right off the flesh. If the thing had been alive, he imagined it would have been quite painful, a whole human suit in her hand and living flesh left behind. The thought almost makes him gag, a disgusted sound escaping his lips and making her realize she’s not alone. She slowly turns to face him with a sheepish smile, like a child caught red-handed. “Pretend you didn’t see that?” She offers, but he shakes his head no. Not in a million years he would forget the sheer brutality of it. He waits but she doesn’t explain it, goes back to making dinner like nothing had happened.

“Could you do that to something… Bigger, darling?” He approaches her slowly, like a predator carefully stalking its prey, though he feels far from a position of power at the moment. She nods her head yes. “Like, say, a good ole’ human?” He whispers in her ear, a shiver running down her spine at the sudden intrusion and hot breath against her skin, flirting his go-to attempt at getting back the reigns of any situation.

“Want me to test it on you, my lord?” She quips in the same whisper tone, and he is wise enough to back off for now.

“Think I’ll pass.” Before he can run back to his seat, she hands him the smaller, bone-bladed knife and pushes a bowl of potatoes towards him, the sudden motion startling him and eliciting a chuckle out of her. Looks like he’ll have to earn his keep. For a while they work shoulder to shoulder in peaceful silence, save for his grunts of frustration at not being able to peel a potato successfully. It’s been a long time. “You ought to show me what you can do one of these days. I’m awful curious.” She considers it for a second, head moving left and right, knife following the movement.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” and she doesn’t mean metal bending and knife juggling, he knows. He can’t think of a reason why she would want to see him, truly see him, monstrous appearance and all, but if that’s the price to pay, he’ll gladly do it. It would be good for his ego, too, that priceless look on her face as he shifts into the stuff of nightmares.

There are no more gruesome sneak peeks for the night and soon the stew is ready, he helps set the table and she finds a bottle of wine she’d stashed away for a rainy day. She explains over dinner that he was quite feverish when he arrived, and it’s a wonder he made it through the night. He truly was sturdy, no ifs or buts about it, she said in appreciation. There were cuts and bruises all over him, all shapes and sizes, like he’d fallen through glass. Did he have an accident at the factory? There was genuine concern in her voice, though they both knew that she knew better.

His curiosity gets the better of him and he experiments with a few questions, each answer leaving him further in the dark. How old was she? Somewhere around a hundred and thirty. She remembers being old enough to read around 1902, when she saw the date on a newspaper she fished out of the gutter, but beyond that time was either a blur or she’d been too young to remember. Where did she come from? Not a clue, but she’s been around: she’s seen Italian castles, been to centuries old British pubs. She’s seen the Brandenburg Gate and visited Chateau de Versailles. She’s bathed in the beautiful waters of the Greek coast, made a pilgrimage to the volcanic beaches of Iceland. She’s never made it past the ocean to the Americas or down to the warmer climates of Africa, but time has never been an issue, and she figures she’ll get to it eventually. He asks her why all the wandering, is someone after her? Her breath hitches and her eyes lower, shoulders slump, a deep breath before the replies. Something like that, and he understands maybe it’s best if he doesn’t push.

They returned to the topic of his feverish display once dinner was over, with her cautioning that he had been lucky this time around, lucky that she was home, lucky that he even made it across the bridge and found his way home. Home, her use of the word is deliberate and strokes something warm and fuzzy within him. Disgusting. There was the matter of the shard, he took a sit on the couch as she reached into a drawer to pull out a bundle of clean cloth, and he feigns confusion when she unwraps it to reveal a piece of metal shaped similar to an arrowhead. He recognized it, the shavings of a project he had worked on… Maybe a year ago? It’d been sticking out through his ribs when he arrived, she said, and it looked anything but recent; infection had taken around it, skin red and swollen. She could see that it was agonizingly painful - had he not noticed it at all?

“Ah, so that’s what it was.” He blurted without really meaning to, a humorless chuckle that left her confused. “I’d been feeling this weird poke in my ribs for the longest time - thought I’d broken something.” He shrugs and she nods, clearly aware of their peculiar situations, perhaps now beginning to comprehend just how many layers of fucked up he was made of. “You’re a miracle worker, doll.” His fingers instinctively trace over the spot where the shard had been, nothing there but a scar that had healed remarkably well. “How can I ever repay you?”

Money, gems, jewelry? She didn’t strike him as the materialistic kind. No, she was all about the meaningful gestures, the showing of kindness. There were a few ways he could think of showing his appreciation - slamming her body against the wall to press a hard kiss on her lips, a nice, firm tug on her hair as he nibbled on her neck. Or maybe something softer if she was so inclined, more romantic even, like a well-placed, resounding slap on her ass cheek. “I’ll be sure to think of something, my lord.” Was the answer she gave, though he was sure she meant something else entirely judging by the way she let her coat slide off to reveal her bare shoulders as she set about getting ready for bed. Her hands gathered more and more of her skirt until it’d reached the middle of her thighs, delicate lace adorning the band of her stockings, tiny suspenders disappearing from sight but serving to peak his curiosity. She undid the hooks that kept it in place, fingers threatening to roll the garment down agonizingly slow. Instead she turned to look at her enraptured audience, the pose propping her ass up and so close to his hands. He had thought it had all been an act, carefully orchestrated to put him on edge, but the gasp of surprise she let out told him otherwise. “I am so sorry, my lord.” She quickly let go of it all and stood up straight, a flush running across her face. “I am not used to having visitors.”

“You needn’t stop on account of little ole’ me, darling.” He is quick to say, rich laughter that filled the room with mischief. Heisenberg sprawls further onto the couch, legs parting like an invitation. Best seat in the house, in the whole village even. “I did enjoy it.”

When it was time to say goodnight, he kept his composure and even helped her move one of the pillows and blanket down the ladder. If his mother were alive she would chastise him for not being a gentleman, for not refusing vehemently to let her sleep on an uncomfortable couch instead of her own bed. But the day was over and so were the pleasantries, and he would have to take the time to cleanse her off his mind, ease himself back into his usual mindset. She was impossibly alluring, impossibly annoying, impossibly loving. There was no figuring her out and it seemed there would be no delving deeper in. Playtime was over and it was back to work tomorrow as soon as she storm had passed. He needed to shed away her kindness before it managed to ooze under his skin, but she had no intention of making it any easier on him.

“Here you go,” Heisenberg had no time to stand on ceremony, shoved the pillow in her direction and flashed her a smile to keep up appearances, mind wandering somewhere else, somewhere where he did not care about her. It was better this way. “Good night, sweetheart.”

Even though he tried, he never truly reached that fabled place where she was of no importance. Not that he would ever acknowledge it.

#resident evil village #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x oc #karl heisenberg x reader #virgil writes

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lupinlongbottom · 4 years

Text

Aggravating Acquaintances

Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: Being friends with James Potter was a feat many didn’t have the pleasure of experiencing. However, for (Y/N), the worst thing to happen to their friendship was meeting one Sirius Black on the Hogwarts Express their first year. To say that (Y/N) and Sirius didn’t get along would be an understatement.

Prompt: Hey! Imagine for Sirius with prompts 147 and 71? - Anon

147. “You couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions.

71. “Are you really flirting with me right now?”

prompt list can be found here

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: drinking/alcohol, a few suggestive themes?

A/N: Sirius Black. That’s it. That’s the author’s note. also i really like asshole energy you know? no? idk. bantering and whatnot is a bunch of fun

Parties.

(Y/N) never cared for them, if she was being honest with herself. Never once did the idea of drinking her problems away, only to laugh and dance with her friends came to mind. While she never shied away the occasional drink, she never felt the need to have more than a few, to let her inhibitions get the best of her. But now, here she was, surrounded by a pack of bumbling drunkards in a rather crowded Gryffindor common room, wishing for the sweet release of death.

“(Y/N)!” James Potter, Gryffindor Chaser, exclaimed from across the room, practically crawling over the crowd to reach her.

“Hey Jim,” (Y/N) smiled politely, choosing to ignore the way his eyes were pleasantly glazed over. He had a habit of going too hard, too quick. “How’s the party treating you?”

“Never been better,” James said, trying not to shout. “Gryffindor won the match!” So much for not shouting. A few Gryffindor students aided in the chant. Some rogue Hufflepuff students chimed in as well.

“I know,” (Y/N) laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I was watching the whole thing, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” James laughed. “Did you think Evans saw me?” His head whipped around, eyes scanning for the redhead.

“Oh she saw you,” (Y/N) said, nodding lightly. “How could she ignore the way you fell off your broom?”

“Hey!” James said, his attention drawing back to (Y/N). “Almost. I almost fell off my broom, caught myself in the end,” he laughed, “wouldn’t want to spend this night with Poppy, would I?”

“Suppose not,” (Y/N) said, taking a sip from her glass. It was mostly pumpkin juice, the scent alone was a giveaway, but one of (Y/N)’s roommates insisted on adding some firewhisky, just to shake things up. The warmth traveled to her chest with every sip. It wasn’t terribly unpleasant. “Wouldn’t want to give Evans the wrong idea about who you fancy, no?”

“I love Poppy,” James said, sighing lightly, leaning against the wall. “She really knows how to mend a broken bone…”

“What about a broken heart?” (Y/N) asked, pointing to a couple across the room. There, in the corner, Lily Evans and a Ravenclaw boy whose name escaped (Y/N)’s recollection. They looked to be awfully close, whispering sweet nothings in the midst of the crowded room.

“Why do you have to do that?” James asked, groaning ever so slightly. “Ruin my high?”

“It’s my job,” (Y/N) shrugged, taking another sip. “You know, friend code and all.”

“I don’t think that’s very friendly of you, (Y/N),” James said, eyes growing sharp.

“Look, either you saw it now or saw it later,” (Y/N) said nonchalantly. “I figured if I told you now, you’d at least have half a mind to go and try to change it, wouldn’t you?”

“I suppose you’re right,” James said, the dark look on his face contorting to one of intrigue. “Strike while the iron’s hot!”

“Exactly,” (Y/N) smiled, pushing his shoulder. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Without another word, James pounced across the crowded room, a faint shrieking of Lily’s name rang throughout the carpeted walls. (Y/N) laughed, noting how the girl’s emerald eyes met with the ceiling, pulling the boy dressed in blue away from James’ persistent swooning.

“Pumpkin juice? At a party?” A voice behind her chanted, nearly right next to her face.

(Y/N) turned to the sound. There, in all his glory was Sirius Black, the man she had a less than ideal share of run-ins with. They were known to butt heads, ever since their first year.

“Oh, hello Sirius,” (Y/N) said cooly. She took a large swig of her drink, nearly half the cup in one go.

“Would you like me to fetch you a juice box too? Maybe a blankie?” Sirius laughed, finding himself leaning against the wall near (Y/N).

“Would it be one of yours? Because I’ve forgotten mine all the way back home…”(Y/N) said, the fakest smile she could muster adorned to her face.

“Funny girl,” Sirius said, downing the rest of whatever was in his cup, setting the empty chalice down near his feet. “Would you want it to be one of mine?”

“And to be covered in dog hair?” (Y/N) said, nearly snorting. “Fat chance.”

“Oh come off it, (L/N),” Sirius grinned, “I’ll make it smell extra rugged, just for you.”

“Rugged how?” (Y/N) inquired, crossing her arms as best she could, drink still in hand. “Cigarettes and wet dog?”

“Exactly,” Sirius said, “extra rugged.”

“Right,” (Y/N) laughed, turning to ignore Sirius, her attention back onto James across the room. Sirius followed her eye line, watching her stare almost intently at the Gryffindor.

“Oi,” Sirius said, waving a hand in front of (Y/N)’s face. “Let him have his fun, he doesn’t need mummy around to keep an eye on him.”

“I’m not his mum,” (Y/N) said.

“Sure act like it,” Sirius said, picking at his fingernails. “Always doting on him, scolding him for every little thing—”

“I only scold him if it involves you, Sirius,” (Y/N) said, pointing an eyebrow at the grey-eyed boy. “The shit the two of you get into, I swear—”

“You shouldn’t have to scold him, you’re not his mum.”

“I literally just said I wasn’t,” (Y/N) said, growing annoyed. “I just care about him, okay? I’ve known him longer than you—thanks, by the way—so I think I owe it to myself to make sure he’s not going to kill himself—”

“Oh wow, little (L/N) pulling the ‘I’ve been his neighbor since forever, therefore I think I know everything about him’ card again,” Sirius said, his voice mocking (Y/N)’s. “Grow up, relax and let him have his fun.”

“Your impression of me is quite good, did you practice that in the mirror?” (Y/N) said, growing hot with anger, not that she’d give Black the time of day to know it.

“I think the key to a good (Y/N) impression is the shrillness in the voice,” Sirius said, nodding lightly. “Though your beautifully enchanting—but ice-cold—stare is hard to pinpoint, I’ll admit.”

“Beautifully enchanting?” (Y/N) laughed, the heat in her face not ceasing.

“Yep,” Sirius nodded, unashamed. “I figured talking about your big mouth was already pretty obvious, didn’t need to—”

(Y/N) slapped him hard against the arm.

“I should add terribly mean to the list,” Sirius mumbled, rubbing the place of contact, a slight grimace doting his expression.

“Terribly mean?” (Y/N) nearly laughed. “You’re the one saying I have a big mouth!”

“You do,” Sirius said, “not backing down from that one, never.”

“You annoy the hell out of me, Sirius,” (Y/N) said, finishing her glass. “I’m going to get another drink—”

“Allow me,” Sirius said, pressing a hand against (Y/N)’s chest, preventing her escape. He pulled his sleek wand from his back pocket, waving it ever so slightly. With ease, two—rather full—glasses found their way through the air, above the commotion of the room and into their space. “Take it,” he motioned to the still floating cup, taking a large swig of his, “I reckon a bit of actual alcohol will make you a bit more lively.”

“Please,” (Y/N) said, grabbing the glass tightly, bringing the brim to her lips. The hot burning of cinnamon met her tongue instantly. If she had a splash of firewhisky before, this might as well have been a tsunami, the liquor coating her throat. “Oh my God, how much is—”

(Y/N) let out a sputtering cough, unable to hold the liquid well. Sirius merely smiled.

“Peter’s been making them,” Sirius said, nodding to the pudgy Gryffindor across the room. “I tried teaching him how to count out his shots, but he’s still got a bit of work to go,” he took another sip, “though, makes for a hell of a punch, doesn’t it?”

“I’ll say,” (Y/N) said, eyeing the drink in her hand cautiously, “Why have you let Peter take over your usual job? Last time I came to one of these, I distinctly remember you were the one making the drinks.”

“Ah,” Sirius clicked, staring into his own cup. “Felt like I should give Peter a spin, considering he’s been nagging me about it practically all year.”

“Why’s that?” (Y/N) asked.

“Easy,” he took another sip, “being the bartender means you get all the girls practically batting their eyes at you all night,” Sirius said, grinning widely.

“Makes sense why you like the job so much,” (Y/N) said, pressing her back against the wall. “Those kind of girls can’t keep their eyes off of you.”

“So you’ve noticed?” Sirius smirked, “thought you didn’t may much mind to my life, isn’t that right?”

“O-of course not,” (Y/N) said, stammering lightly, “it’s hard to ignore the girls who throw themselves at you,” (Y/N) found herself burying her words into her cup, gulping quickly. “Hell, nearly all of my roommates can’t stop their insistent conversations about your hair—or whatever—halfway into the night. It’s exhausting.”

“What about my hair?” Sirius asked, bringing a hand up to his long locks.

“Nope,” (Y/N) shook her head, “not falling for that one. You don’t get the pleasantries of me repeating compliments to stroke your already large ego,” she shook her head again. “No way.”

“So you think it’s huge?” Sirius said, glancing down at (Y/N), that shit eating grin plastered to his face.

“Shove it.”

“Wouldn’t you like that pleasure, hm?”

“Sirius,” (Y/N) said plainly, “are you really flirting with me right now?”

“I might,” Sirius shrugged, almost unbothered.

It wouldn’t have been the first time he had done it. Sirius Black was anything if not perceptive to his surroundings, noting how his—what was hopefully an obvious joke—flirting flustered (Y/N) every so often. How he loved to push her buttons, make her squirm.

“Why don’t you go and try your luck on someone who’ll care?” (Y/N) sputtered, pointing her glass-filled hand over to a group of girls who had been staring at Sirius for so long, they might as well have been made of stone. “I’m sure you’d get a better reaction out of them, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Don’t want to flirt with them,” Sirius said, giving a polite wave to the girls across the way. One looked as if she was ready to faint. “Would rather annoy you.”

“How charming,” (Y/N) said, her voice cool as ice.

“You’re not shooing me away,” Sirius said, almost in shock. “Normally this is the part of the conversation where you promise to hex me or,” he waved his hand dramatically, “go and complain to Potter. What gives?”

“I’m drunk,” (Y/N) lied, taking another sip as if to prove her point. “Sue me.”

“If you’re drunk, then I’m the Queen of England,” Sirius laughed, his chest bobbing up and down. “There’s more to it,” he pressed a finger to (Y/N)’s cheek, pushing her head to the side, “admit it. Go on, I’m all ears.”

“What do you want me to say, Black? That I fancy your company?” (Y/N) said, almost surprised at her honesty. Perhaps the firewhisky was working a bit faster than she expected. It had been a long time since she had as many drinks as she did, but she blamed the excess drinks on the grey eyed boy standing near her.

“Fancy my company?” Sirius repeated, nearly as stunned as (Y/N). “Since when has that ever been the case?”

“Since all my friends ditched me,” (Y/N) said, staring back into her cup. “One of them went back to our dorm, a boy on each arm—Godric, I don’t even want to go back in there. I don’t know what I’m going to get myself into going back to that…”

“Rotten friends,” Sirius said, “even if they are getting laid. S’not right.”

“Figured it was either chat with you or look like a terribly sad fly on the wall,” (Y/N) said, “I chose the latter.”

“Honestly, I’m honored,” Sirius said, bowing lightly. “Truly and utterly honored to be of service.”

(Y/N) didn’t know why she had even bothered to spend another second with Sirius Black, if she was being completely honest. The entire time she had known him—first year, met on the train—he had been the constant thorn in her side. She clung to James quite a bit back then, that was something she could admit, but James acquiring another close friend, someone so unlike herself, really ground her gears. Black and (L/N), like oil and water, could coexist for a bit but never truly mix.

“You should be,” (Y/N) said, feeling herself grow a bit lighter. The alcohol, she assumed was the cause, nothing more. “I’m surprised you’re even chatting with me this long anyway,” (Y/N) fought back a yawn, “thought my perfume would scare you away, has in the past.”

“It’s grown on me,” Sirius said plainly, “better than the rubbish James’ been using to woo Lily, stinks up the entire room.”

“Tell me about it,” (Y/N) laughed, recalling the repugnant aroma that James swore up and down would win Lily over, the woman at the department store said so herself. “I told him when he bought it that it wouldn’t work, still didn’t listen.”

“He really doesn’t listen,” Sirius said, glancing over at James. He had been sulking in the corner, rejected by Lily. “But I reckon we could do him a favor.”

“A favor?” (Y/N) asked, draining the rest of her drink. “What’re you thinking?”

“Let’s go destroy that cologne,” Sirius said, pulling on (Y/N) sleeve, headed towards the dormitory. “Together. You know, since we’re friends now.”

“I never said that,” (Y/N) scoffed, following Sirius up the stairs, the lightness in her chest expanding. Sirius pulled (Y/N) into their room, conveniently empty. “Well? Where does James keep the bottle?”

“Not sure,” Sirius said, shutting the door, getting a stink eye from (Y/N), “what? I don’t want Prongs walking in here while we destroy his property.”

“Fine,” (Y/N) laughed, flinging herself onto James’ bed, rolling to the foot. She propped herself onto her elbows, head hanging over the bright red trunk at the end of the bed. “Do you think it’s in his trunk?”

“Seems like a good place to start,” Sirius said, kneeling before the trunk, hands tracing the latches. “You’re going to want to move your head, sweets,” Sirius laughed, pushing (Y/N)’s head back, “wouldn’t want to hit your pretty face, would we?”

“So you think it’s pretty?” (Y/N) smirked, pursing her lips. She could almost see Sirius’ eyes roll to the back of his head, for just a moment. “What? So you can flirt with me, but I can’t dish it back? Seems awfully silly, Black.”

“Wasn’t flirting,” Sirius said, rifling through James’ trunk.

“No?” (Y/N) giggled, rolling to her back, the top of James’ red four-poster filling her sight. “You called me pretty.”

“And you are,” Sirius said, lifting up a few books, eyes scanning the contents beneath them. “It’s the truth.”

“So that’s not considered flirting?” (Y/N) asked, growing confused.

“I call all the girls pretty,” Sirius said, smirking up at (Y/N). “Fact of life, sweets.”

“There you go again,” (Y/N) said, pointing her finger upwards, “calling me ‘sweets’! If that’s not flirting, I don’t know what is!”

“Is it?” Sirius asked, closing the trunk. A large smirk was plastered to his face.

“Holy fuck!” (Y/N) exclaimed, throwing her hands into her face. “You are so aggravating! First you’re flirting with me, then you claim that you’re not and now you’re just playing mind games with me!” (Y/N) groaned, rolling back onto her chest, face planted into the sheets. “I wish you came with instructions, for fucks sake. At least then I’d be able to somewhat understand you.”

“You couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions, love,” Sirius said, head resting comfortably on his hand.

“What kind of a line is—”

It was then when she lifted her head, (Y/N) noticed, how close Sirius’ face was to her own. She never noticed the mole on his nose, slightly above his left nostril. Granted, she had never been this close to Sirius before to have noticed the little brown spot. Actually, now that she looked a bit closer, Sirius Black had a few other moles on his cheeks and one right above his lips. If one didn’t know any better, they’d mistake them for freckles. The sporadic placement of these little marks were enchanting, almost like a perfect constellation, unique and intriguing.

“I—uhm—you’re a little close,” (Y/N) said, not moving an inch.

“Hypocrite,” Sirius said, staying as still as a statue.

“Did—did you find the…” (Y/N) tried to find her thought, her mind wandering, finding a home in Sirius’ grey eyes.

“Cologne? No,” Sirius shook his head ever so slightly, eyes not breaking away from (Y/N)’s.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

(Y/N) moved her gaze upward, finding solace in the rich reds of the canopy above. In her most recent memory, she couldn’t come up with a time she felt exactly this way, let alone with Sirius Black of all people. She waited a moment before peeking back at the boy at the foot of the bed, her eyes flicking immediately back up to the canopy when she noticed Sirius’ gaze still upon her.

“Why are you staring at me?”

“You’re hard to look away from,” Sirius said, finally adjusting his position.

“Shut it—”

“No,” Sirius said, his voice almost stern. (Y/N) brought herself to turn herself back towards the Gryffindor, curious. “I said what I said.”

“You’re drunk,” (Y/N) laughed, pushing his face away, finding the bit of breathing room she created immensely calming for a moment.

“I’m not,” Sirius said, rebounding to his original position quickly, if not closer. “Are you?”

“No,” (Y/N) said honestly.

“Good.”

That was all he said. Because in the next moment, Sirius’ lips were on (Y/N)’s. The hand that held his own head up was caressing (Y/N)’s cheek, more gentle than the actions against their lips. The kiss was hot, needy, almost. The tension had snapped like a rubber band, quick and suddenly. But just as quick as it came, (Y/N) pulled away.

“Sirius what the—”

“Oh come on,” Sirius laughed, hopping up onto the trunk, seated neatly in front of (Y/N). “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about doing that? Besides,” a hand stroked his chin thoughtfully, “you kissed me back.”

“That’s—no—Sirius!” (Y/N) was at a loss for words, the warmth that had radiated from her chest had spread to her entire body in that single motion, what once she could’ve blamed on the alcohol became very telling of her true feelings. She couldn’t deny that she didn’t kiss him back, because that would’ve been an outright lie. Only one thought rang through her mind. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you kiss me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sirius asked, his grin fading. (Y/N) shook her head. “Well, you must really be thick, then,” he ran a hand through his hair, pushing the stray locks back, “well, considering our sexual tension is always so thick you could cut it with a knife—”

“Sexual tension?” (Y/N) laughed, almost against herself. “Is that what you call it?”

“I mean, sure, it started with a visceral hate for one other—first year was a rough one for that—but you can’t deny our chemistry,” Sirius said thoughtfully. “Who would’ve thought I’ve got the hots for the girl who made my blood boil every time I saw her?”

“Made? Like, past tense?”

“Of course,” Sirius nodded, “well, I suppose you make my blood boil in other ways, sweets.”

“Disgusting,” (Y/N) laughed, pushing Sirius away.

“But you could say in less ways and words that I fancy you, (Y/N),” he shrugged again, “I mean, you’re the only person in this castle who’ll call me out for my bullshit—”

“Incorrect, Remus and various other teachers do too—”

“You’re the only one who calls me out for my bullshit that I’ll listen to,” Sirius corrected, “what can I say? You don’t fawn over me or trip over yourself to get my attention. Quite frankly, you avoid me whenever possible.”

“So, you’re saying you like the chase?”

“Something like that,” Sirius laughed, placing a hand on the bed. “Not to mention that you’re bloody beautiful,” he moved his hand to touch hers, ever so lightly, “and you already get along with my mates—”

“One of them was my best friend before you trailed along, thanks,” (Y/N) said, her smirk growing. She didn’t hate the way his hand felt atop of hers.

“And I’m forever grateful for it,” Sirius said, his face softening. “Grateful for James for introducing me to the biggest pain in my ass.”

“Not the smoothest way to pick up a girl,” (Y/N) laughed.

“But it’s working, isn’t it?”

“I suppose,” (Y/N) smiled, feeling her own face relax. “For some reason.”

(Y/N) allowed herself to give Sirius another kiss, this time, one she initiated. It was softer than before, but still held every ounce of energy like the last. As if like a bucket of ice water had been poured over them, (Y/N) pulled away.

“Wait a minute,” (Y/N) pressed her hand against Sirius’ chest, as he had begun to seek the previous contact. “You let Peter make the drinks tonight.”

“And...?”

“Oh my God!” (Y/N) said, feeling a wave of realization come over her. “You were planning this all along!”

“Well—uhm—not exactly like—”

“Admit it, Sirius Black,” (Y/N) said, poking a finger to his chest, “admit that you let Peter take over your prestigious bartending duties so you could try and woo me!”

“Woo you? What are we? Fifty?”

“Sirius—”

“Alright,” Sirius laughed, pressing a kiss to (Y/N)’s nose. “I admit it. I figured tonight wouldn’t be the worst time to try to make a move, so I needed to be mobile.”

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” (Y/N) laughed, pressing her lips back onto his, resuming their previous motions.

While the two had quite a bit more to talk about after their laughter ceased—and things that involved not talking—(Y/N) grew ever more thankful that she chose to attend the gathering this evening. While Sirius still had quite the long way to make up for his previous jokes and pranks he had pulled on (Y/N) in the past—one really can’t forget the forever sticking chewing gum that plastered her robes all of second year—he figured a bit of smooth talking could glaze over any of the cracks. That, and kisses she’d be damned to forget the rest of her life. Two remedies for a sour situation.

They never did find that cologne.

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