#reliable pond | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dialamovers · 11 months

Text

How to Find Reliable Removalists in Moonee Ponds

Introduction

Moving to a new place can be an exciting adventure, but it can also be a daunting task. Whether you're relocating your home or office, finding reliable removalists is crucial to ensure a smooth and stress-free experience. In Moonee Ponds, a vibrant suburb of Melbourne, Dial A Mover is a renowned removalist company that can assist you with all your moving needs.

This article will guide you through the process of finding reliable removalists in Moonee Ponds, Dial A Move and provide valuable tips to make your move a breeze.

Why Choose Dial A Mover?

Dial A Mover is a reputable removalist company in Moonee Ponds known for its professionalism, efficiency, and excellent customer service. Here's why you should consider them for your moving needs:

Years of Experience: With over 10 years of experience in the industry, Dial A Mover has gained extensive knowledge and expertise in handling various types of moves.

Highly Skilled Team: Their team of removalists is trained, experienced, and equipped to handle all aspects of the moving process, ensuring the safety and security of your belongings.

Comprehensive Services: Whether you need assistance with packing, transportation, or unpacking, Dial A Mover offers a range of services tailored to meet your specific requirements.

Affordable Pricing: Dial A Mover believes in providing quality services at competitive prices, making them an excellent choice for those on a budget.

How to Find Reliable Removalists in Moonee Ponds

Finding reliable removalists in Moonee Ponds, Dial A Mover doesn't have to be a challenging task. Follow these steps to ensure you choose the right removalist company for your move:

1. Start with Research

Before making any decisions, it's essential to conduct thorough research. Here are some reliable sources to gather information about removalists in Moonee Ponds (Dial A Mover):

Online Reviews: Check websites like Google, Yelp, and Facebook to read reviews and ratings of different removalist companies. Pay attention to the overall satisfaction level and specific comments about their services.

Word-of-Mouth Recommendations: Reach out to friends, family, or colleagues who have recently moved and ask for their recommendations. Personal experiences and referrals can provide valuable insights.

Local Directories: Consult local directories or classifieds in Moonee Ponds to find removalist companies operating in the area. These directories often provide contact information and brief descriptions of their services.

2. Check Credentials and Insurance

To ensure the safety of your belongings during the move, it's crucial to verify the credentials and insurance coverage of the removalist companies you're considering. Here's what to look for:

License and Accreditation: Check if the removalist company holds the necessary licenses and accreditations to operate legally. This ensures they comply with industry standards and regulations.

Insurance Coverage: Ask about the types of insurance coverage they offer for your possessions during transit. A reputable removalist company should provide comprehensive insurance options to protect your belongings against any unforeseen incidents.

3. Request Quotes and Compare Prices

Obtaining quotes from different removalist companies will give you an idea of the cost involved in your move. Consider the following when requesting quotes:

In-person Assessment: For accurate quotes, it's best to request an in-person assessment of your belongings. This allows the removalist company to evaluate the size, weight, and special requirements of your items.

Itemized Breakdown: Ask for an itemized breakdown of the quote, including the cost of packing materials, transportation, labor, and any additional services. This will help you compare prices more effectively.

4. Assess Customer Service

Good customer service is a crucial factor in choosing reliable removalists. Here are some indicators of excellent customer service:

Prompt Communication: Pay attention to their responsiveness and willingness to address your queries and concerns promptly.

Transparency: A reliable removalist company should provide clear and transparent information about their services, policies, and pricing structure.

Professionalism: Evaluate the professionalism of their staff during your interactions. Friendly, knowledgeable, and courteous staff members are more likely to provide a positive moving experience.

5. Evaluate Experience and Expertise

Consider the experience and expertise of the removalist company to ensure they can handle your specific requirements. Ask the following questions:

How long have they been in the industry?

Have they previously handled moves similar to yours?

Do they have specialized equipment for handling fragile or valuable items?

FAQs about Finding Reliable Removalists in Moonee Ponds

1.How far in advance should I book a removalist? It's advisable to book a removalist at least 4-6 weeks before your moving date, especially during peak seasons. This allows you to secure your preferred moving date and ensures availability. 2.Do removalist companies provide packing services? Yes, many removalist companies offer packing services as part of their comprehensive moving packages. This can save you time and effort, especially if you have limited packing experience or a busy schedule. 3.Should I label my boxes during the move? Absolutely! Labeling your boxes with their contents and designated rooms helps the removalists know where to place them in your new home or office. It also makes unpacking much more efficient and organized. 4.What happens if something gets damaged during the move? Reputable removalist companies like Dial A Mover provide comprehensive insurance coverage to protect your belongings. In the unfortunate event of damage or loss, contact the company to initiate the insurance claim process. 5.Can removalists disassemble and reassemble furniture? Yes, most removalist companies offer furniture disassembly and reassembly services. They have the necessary tools and expertise to handle this task safely and efficiently. 6.Can removalists transport pets or plants? Removalist companies typically specialize in transporting household items and may not offer specific services for pets or plants. It's best to make separate arrangements for your furry friends and greenery.

Conclusion

Finding reliable removalists Moonee Ponds, Dial A Mover is crucial for a smooth and stress-free move. By conducting thorough research, checking credentials, comparing prices, assessing customer service, and evaluating experience, you can make an informed decision. Dial A Mover, with its years of experience, skilled team, comprehensive services, and affordable pricing, is an excellent choice for your moving needs in Moonee Ponds.

Remember, a well-planned and organized move can turn this transition into an exciting new chapter in your life. So, start your moving journey by finding reliable removalists who can make the process as smooth as silk.

#Moonee Ponds removalists #Cheap removalists Moonee Ponds #Affordable removalists Moonee Ponds #Reliable removalists Moonee Ponds #Experienced removalists Moonee Ponds #Professional removalists Moonee Ponds #House removals Moonee Ponds #Office removals Moonee Ponds #Storage Moonee Ponds #Packing services Moonee Ponds #Unpacking services Moonee Ponds #Interstate removalists Moonee Ponds #movers #moving company #moving and storage service #packing and unpacking #removalists

1 note · View note

freepassbound · 1 year

Note

☿ - zodiac sign?

☂ - favorite season?

I think it's Aries? I don't actually know. 😅🤷‍♂️

Winter! 😊

0 notes

bluesideonspotify · 2 years

Text

wait did BTS decide to enlist on their own because I thought the government had finally decided ? but then I saw someone say that it was their decision as kind of a “fuck you” to the government ?

#the extent to which I never know what's going on.... astounding #there's so much propaganda and hysteria around this particular issue also it's just #it's a lot and I'm very tired #also to be fair the person saying it was bts's decision is an american so maybe they are also confused #I wanna know what's going on but there's so many angles being pushed at all times I simply do not have the brainwaves for this #and it's hard to know what sources are reliable b/c I don't know anything about south korean news sources #and i do not trust western news sources to actually know what they're talking about in regards to this particular issue #I am just a very stupid little frog in a very large pond #shut up aj

1 note · View note

onejellyfishplease · 5 months

Text

BEHOLD! my new TMNT iteration!

tmnt: Strained Eyes

In this iteration, much like rottmnt, all of the turtles have super powers. however, there is a little catch. while the rottmnt turtle's powers suit their soul, Strained Eye's turtles... don't.

(please ignore the fact that Mikey doesnt really look like a spotted pond turtle, i came up with the design first and had to find a turtle species second)

So! Mikeys powers basically allow him to cause every thing he touches to rot/decompose/desintergrate. he does have some control, but not reliably.

And though he is a good cook, there is a 50/50 chance that you will end up eating mouldy/rotten food. but all the other times it will be delicious.

he (obviously) has insecurities about touch, he is very aware that he could very easily kill someone with just one touch.

he can also grow mushrooms on command -he can also grow them on his shell which freaks out his brothers a lot.

also hes not actually blind in one eye! its mostly just cosmetic.

Up next we have Donnie! compared to Mieky hes a very brightly coloured boy!

his power is illusions! they can be incredibly lifelike. the problem is, These illusions can be permanent if Donnie doesnt dispel them, and sometimes are summoned only by his subconscious. So Donnie can struggle with figuring out if something is real or not.

The only senses his illusions cannot mimic are touch and smell (and taste) so he is usually extremely tactile, holding onto his brothers to assure himself that theyre real and not just a projection of his mind. he covers a lot of stuff in his lab (and his brothers) with strong smelling perfumes as well.

application wise- he uses his powers in tandem with his machines to make incredibly realistic looking androids. example: robot cat that looks like real cat. robot dragon that looks like REAL dragon, etc etc. he can also use them to appear human and turn invisible. (he can expand this to all his brothers) but he still hasnt gotten down the art of human expressions, so when ever he appears human he looks quite uncanny when he talks.

It's Leo!!

now Leo is ~battery powered~ his powers basically allow him to absorb energy straight from the source, such as absorbing the electricity off of an electric wire, or even sucking the energy from a person. or eating batteries.

an unfortunate side affect (depending on how you look at it) is that Leo doesnt need to sleep. ever. as long as he keeps absorbing energy then he's completely fine! and the more electricity/energy he absorbs the faster/stronger he gets! he also thinks faster! coming up with excellent strategies on the fly!

however- the same is true of the other way around, when Leo runs out of energy (which he does often- hes VERY bad at judging how much he has left) he will start to get more lethargic, his cognitive funtions will slow down and his short term memory will start to degrade.

If he completly runs out of energy his heart stops and he dies.

but dont worry! you just need to zap him with more energy and hell get right back up again (Donnie has a defibrillator just for Leo). though its best not to leave him in that state for long. because like that he is still functionally a dead body.

And finally we have Raph!

Raph breaths fire. a very simple power, in fact he can even hold his breath for hours apon end and his skin is extremely tough! theres basically no side effects too!

Hes so lucky compared to his brothers, having a power that suits him perfectly and doesnt mess him up in the head.

because of this, Raph has kinda moulded himself into the hyper aggressive mom friend, making sure they dont all run themselves into the ground because of the drawbacks to their powers.

he still has anger issues too <3

#they are drenched in trauma #i have so many plans of these guys #i wanna give them more trauma #Strained Eyes au #tmnt #tmnt donnie #tmnt mikey #tmnt leo #tmnt raph

304 notes · View notes

absolutebl · 8 months

Note

Hi!

So apparently GMMTV will be announcing their 2024 line up in October!

Which actors do you think will be paired together this time? I feel like Mix and Pond have hinted they will be studying more so maybe not their pairings…. GeminiFourth said they will have a series so definitely them…

I would love to see ThorFluke plus Pawin with anyone and Drake with anyone!

What are your predictions?

Ooooo, GMMTV 2024 Pure Speculation

(remember if it's not data driven I'm historically pretty bad at this, but sure, let's shoot the shizz)

Most Likely

EarthMix - they're reading v burned out (in addition to Mix + school) but they are currently GMMTV's cash cow so I can't imagine GMMTV won't try to put them in something, no matter what Mix said... but it's possible they'll be let rest for most of 2024.

First & Khao - naturally, if GMMTV can find a script the boys like, these two are likely their the biggest pair earners (if EarthMix really are out).

GeminiFourth - of course, the new princes

ForceBook - honestly they are steady, reliable workhorses who visually suit many BL scripts, they seem easy to work with, fun, and game. Not the most charismatic pair and I'm shaky on their range and versatility, but GMMTV clearly doesn't feel that way. I think it's pretty likely they will get something... I just hope it is something interesting. Are they bankable enough for a historical? That's the real question.

Not Sure

JoongDunk - I really don't know, I think they are slightly more likely than not but they keep getting lackluster scripts. GMMTV is more likely to blame the pair than the show. And it is possible they are just a lackluster pair... too.

JimmySea - what happen to (or will happen with) Last Twilight?

I'd like to see Jimmy paired with someone else. He's too charismatic for Sea. To really break us they should pair him with Gun and just burn down the world. GMMTV would never do this, tho.

Least Likely

It's unlikely PondPhuwin will lead out a show. Pond def said something about going back to school. (Which is code for a long break, if nothing else). They're good but less $ than EarthMix so I think GMMTV will back off from them.

OffGun - I'm not saying it won't happen anymore, but...

TayNew - see above

Bright with... anyone but Win.

A queer can dream, tho.

Some noodling

I do think First & Khao were successful enough, and Only Friends will be enough of a sensation, for GMMTV to consider more First Khao style stuff. AKA instead of just dropping a whole pair, GMMTV will try rearranging pairs. Especially for couples that had previously been mostly just sides.

So we can expect Neo, Mark, Marc, Puwin, Aou, possibly even the twins or the Flukes show up paired "experimentally" with different other actors. Some that may genuinely surprise us.

That said, I'd like some more role swapping too.

For example, with Pond away, and him getting older and being SO established in the genre, I would love to see Phuwin play a seme roll. Not sure he has the personality for it in terms of how he's bonded with some of the newer GMMTV talent since I don't watch any of the variety/BTS anymore, but he has the screen presence.

Remember originally Neo & Phuwin had a pairing... I wonder if that would ever happen again.

I would love love LOVE to see Tay paired with someone else. I thought he was a revelation in 3 Will Be Free showing range I'd no idea he had and he's such a big puppy and friendly with everyone. I bet he could get many partners to trust and relax.

Similarly New needs to play a seme. I think he once said he'd rather not do BL with anyone but Tay, but I still think he'd be fun to see.

So New is less likely, but I think we can safely assume Tay would be game. With TayNew it's whether their shipper/stalker fans would "allow" this.

What GMMTV Wants/Needs

I said in the past they needed to onboard new talent and they went for free agents (Joong, Perth). I thought they'd go for whole pairs, and I still think they'd be wise to consider this.

Given they're likely shifting focus on expansion into darker, higher heat, and more gritty arenas (which I think they need to do given the paucity of scripts within their preferred BL style, the tenor of the market, and the aging of their existing stable) what they want is Zee++. Now they can't wrestle him/his pair free of Dormundi, so...

For solos they are looking for:

actors who have lost their pair, have range into dark territory, will do high heat, and can play harsher seme roles (tall a bonus.)

If they're smart they make a play for Bible, but I wouldn't rule out Lee Long Shi. Both actors have a style that fills a niche in the GMMTV stable and are pro enough to work well in a new pair that GMMTV sets for them.

You KNOW they want Bible. How could they not? Can you imagine?

If they go after a pair?

If they're smart as I think they are? They want NetJames. And they might be able to get them, depending on contracts. NetJames has been awful quiet recently, they either are actually finally filming Love Upon a Time or that's fallen through and they're in contract negotiations. YinWar and JaFirst are also tempting prospects, I would imagine. Especially Ja.

It's this "new pair to GMMTV" announcement I'm most interested in, come October.

I think I'm leaving a key high heat pair on the table, but GMMTV also has a specific appearance and acting style they tend to cast for, and not all of the current indy heat pairs have that. Plus their are high value pairs that clearly do not want to sign with or work with GMMTV (OhmFluke for example) so that's a factor.

Finally, you KNOW they want to recreate the magic of GeminiFourth with young talent so I would bet they are actively recruiting high school grade pink milk via auditions, so we can expect one set of totally fresh faces.

Also tumblr ate half this post so I might have missed a few pairs worth discussing, because I had them but it deleted them. Don't blame me, blame tumblr, and leave a comment.

FYI my predictions for 2023 were as follows:

10 GMMTV THAI BL 2023 Predictions (and how I did)

(these are the ones I made last year before their announcements)

EarthMix (yes, 2x)

something with Joong but not paired with Dunk (nope, they tried the same thing again)

dito Jimmy (not sure what's going on there)

what the hell: Lee does a BL (still no, last man standing)

probably a new attempt at ForceBook (yep)

2 set in high school and fewer set in uni (yep/nope)

at least 1 set in an office of some kind and at least 2 set in the countryside (yep/sorta but mostly nope)

one experimental paranormal/alt reality/time slip (yep)

something Friend Zone messy featuring several LBGTQ+ characters and couples and higher heat (yep)

an attempt to resurrect big guns like TayNew (yep - if cherry magic happens) or even BrightWin (nope, they went for OffGun instead, who I had thought were out)

So here's my...

10 GMMTV THAI BL 2024 Predictions

First & Khao lead out something non-school and complex (GMMTV BL grows up)

ForceBook & GeminiFourth get new shows

Phuwin paired with someone else

GMMTV starts experimenting more with busting up and rearranging pairs

What the hell, Tay does a BL with not New.

We see Joong and Perth star in something GMMTV but not BL

GMMTV pulls in at least one established outside talent who plays harsh seme roles and has a more aggressive tone

GMMTV recruits/onboards an established pair who can and is willing to do higher heat

They option something v complex: crime thriller, mystery, suspense, historical even, I wonder if they might be interested in adapting say... Trapped.

JoJo gets to helm another "off brand" show

What I want them to do?

Finally admit that they can take an established script and "make it gay" and just LEAN in. Descendants of the Sun, but gay. Business Proposal, but gay. Home Town Cha Cha Cha... but gay. Thailand has the latent pool and the screen time but they don't have the scripts/stories.

Time to look to Korea and just fill in the gap that Korea is already leaving on the table (by only doing short form BLs).

Korea has the romances. Hundreds of them. MANY of which are not gender dependent.

Can you fucking imagine if Boss & Babe had been that exact cast but GMMTV doing a gay Dali and the Cocky Prince instead? It would have been amazing.

(source)

#FYI that seriously awful bug: undo hotkey deletes half your post is still there #tumblr why you onboarding us to a new ux that is 3x as buggy as the old one?#pure speculation on GMMTV #ForceBook #EarthMix #Taynew #FirstKhao #geminifourth #pondphuwin #GMMTV 2024 #GMMTV predictions #how wrong can I be #GMMTV Jojo #bible wichapas #Lee Long Shi #NetJames #ABL gets wordy #I have THOUGHTS

257 notes · View notes

the-californicationist · 5 months

Text

Guile & Guilt (Ch. 02)

Soap x Reader AU

Link to AO3

THE NEXT DAY

The Ettrick was the best pub in town, and you could smell the spicy blend of their famous curry halfway down the block. It was close enough to Pidge’s house to walk but far enough to be a bit of a trek, and so you were trailing behind her and Hamish as you made your way out to dinner. Hamish had called up some friends, and Pidge had done the same, for a little impromptu celebration party. You were not a fan of crowds, really, but you had promised yourself (in some small secret way) that you would be the best maid of honor there ever was for your best friend. If that meant partying down at the local bar, so be it.

After bringing you and Pidge your morning coffees, Johnny had taken his Jeep and sped off somewhere, saying he “needed to clear his head.” But, even though he promised to show up to dinner tonight, you doubted he would show. Pidge had rolled her eyes and shrugged at you, expressing her doubt as well.

You weren’t supposed to be worried about him though. You needed to focus on the goal: Pidge having fun. Be fun. She needed you to be fun. Smile, or something, c’mon. Your internal pep talks exhausted you, and you grew frustrated with yourself. Surely you could stand to be in a crowd for just an evening?

Lachlan Black, Hamish’s man of honor and college roommate, was already at the restaurant. You could tell because his lime green Aventador was parked out front, covering both the street and the sidewalk and shining like a penny. Stepping around it as carefully as you would a coiled snake, you squeezed past the car, making sure not to even breathe too roughly on it.

When Hamish opened the door for you, you stepped inside to find Anjali, Bekah, and Cherise already waiting for Pidge, half-circled around Lachlan and Johnny like hungry birds - waiting to be fed more sweet nothings, you assumed. The three girls were Pidge’s friends from grammar school. They had grown up with Johnny and Pidge, and they knew them well, but they were not the most reliable bunch. If there was a party, they would turn up, but if you needed a ride to the airport, better call someone else. There was a reason none of them made the cut for maid of honor.

“Pigeon!” Johnny shouted from his end of the bar.

He had changed clothes, and he was in a half-open, rolled-sleeve button down with a pair of black canvas pants. Casual, but he looked like he was built to party. Lachlan, on the other hand, looked like he owned the party. You didn’t know what kind of fabric his clothes were made out of - probably something to do with baby alpacas - and he was shining all over. His high (surgery-induced?) cheekbones and bright blond hair made him look like a movie star, and the girls doted on him as if he was one. He had thrown an arm around Cherise, and she seemed perfectly content to be nestled there in his expensive armpit.

Johnny hugged Pidge and shook Hamish’s hand. He didn’t know what to do to you, so he just leaned back against the bar and shoved his hands in his pockets, smiling at you and mouthing the ghost of a “hey.” You did the same, matching that awkward energy and immediately regretting it.

“Hey, babes,” Lachlan smiled at you in a sort of sneer, “Aren’t you that bird from…New York?”

“Florida,” you corrected, tearing your eyes away from Johnny’s and looking hard at Hamish’s friend.

“Right, well,” he took a swig of his whisky, “All the same, innit?”

Hamish shook his hand, and then, he sort of pulled him off balance a bit to speak to him closer,

“No, mate, it isn’t.”

They laughed, but you could tell that Lachlan had been temporarily cowed.

“Good to see you again,” Cherise kissed you in the French sort of way, the imaginary cheek smooches that you were supposed to have memorized when you crossed the pond. Did you lean left first or right?

“You, too, Cherise. Glad you could come,” you tried to be as friendly as you could, but Cherise was into her own ventures and there wasn’t much that could shake her from that. She was tucked back into Lachlan’s side, trying to return herself into his missing rib. If she just squeezed in close enough, maybe…

“Can I get you a drink, from one Of Honor to the next?” Lachlan showed you his teeth again. White. Straight. Sharp.

Before you could say a word, Johnny moved in front of him and held out an outstretched hand. He gave you a full whisky cocktail, complete with an orange rind on top - something Pidge already had a copy of - and shrugged,

“Sorry, mate. You can get the next one, yeah? Here ya go, bonnie.”

The way he looked at you was meant to be dismissive, or perhaps he hadn’t meant to look at you at all. Johnny barely glanced your way, pale irises hiding under thick, dark eyelashes that then quickly fixed themselves back down at the counter. But, the look in your eyes must have called him by his name, because he found himself caught in the snare of you. His gaze met yours in a second glance and studied your skin, your cheeks, your nose, and finally your mouth, covered in sticky gloss and glitter, shining under the warm glow of the bar.

You watched him study you, his enormous Adam’s apple bobbing along his scruffy throat as he swallowed, and his face wore a mask of heightened uncertainty and… rejection? You couldn’t tell what emotion he was trying hard not to outwardly express. It was not a swoon, that was for sure. It looked as if he was concerned. You felt the blood rush to your cheeks and you broke away from him, muttering a thanks for the drink. Staring down at your hands, suddenly feeling insecure, you became hyper-aware of everything he could have seen and had apparently found wanting.

A soft hand grabbed you around the arm and pulled you in,

“C’mon,” Pidge said, “Let’s get a booth.”

You took a sip of your cocktail as you were dragged away by your friend, and the whisky stung you like a hornet. One of these would be enough to put you down, and Christ did you want to be put down.

Seeing Johnny dressed like that had been enough to shake your determination, but his look of dismissal or distaste (or whatever it was) had shattered your self-esteem. To make matters worse, you couldn’t get away from him for a single second. He had given you a drink at the bar. He walked behind you as you moved deeper into the pub, and he slid around the slick pleather crescent of the booth seat, finally sandwiching you between him and his sister - the last nail in your coffin. You could smell his cologne, a musky, woodsy scent that mixed with his earthy citrus that you knew so well. You remembered the arch of his muscular shoulders as he squeezed himself into the seat, and you could almost taste his sweet breath on your tongue as he talked over you to his sister. If you were still in grade school, you thought about having to write: “I will not fuck my best friend’s brother” five hundred times on the chalkboard - or however many it took for it to sink in. How many sticks of chalk would turn to dust just to slake your forbidden thirst?

You felt his huge thigh, warm and tight, press against your bare leg through his slacks. The thin cotton was a poor barrier, and all you could think about was the skin underneath it. Was it covered in dark coarse hair? Shaved smooth like a swimmer? Did it have black, inky tattoos or jagged scars? Sharing his heat was unimaginably difficult to deal with. Your body stirred, wondering why you were hiding your interest from him. Your traitorous heart was joyful like a bird with a juicy worm, expecting revelry and finding only cold, white-knuckled repression.

“A wee toast!” Johnny lifted his cup, smiling in that half-cocked way that he wore in all of his photos, “To Hammie and Pigeon; and whilst we thus should make our sorrows one, this happy harmony would make them none. Congratulations, sister. Slàinte mhath.”

“Slàinte mhath!” The tables’ voices rang out with proud approval.

Pidge rolled her eyes, but she wore a sweet smile,

“Thank you, Johnny boy. That was not the toast I was expectin’ from you, you weapon.”

Johnny, who had been wearing an innocent grin, turned it into a cunning one that a wolf might wear,

“Ya mean, this one?”

“No, Johnny, don’t -” Pidge tried to pull him down, reaching over you to get at his arm.

He broke through her grip as if she was a petulant child, and stood, raising his glass and his voice so that the entire pub could enjoy his toast,

“Let’s drink our drop o’ barley bree,” boisterous cheering came from the older menfolk who recognized the rhyme, “Though moon and stars should blink tae’gether, to each leal lad wi’ kilted knee…” a pause for effect prompted raucous whistles and table-pounding, “and a bonnie lass among the heather!”

Loud, jeering applause filled the cozy room, and Hammie was being shoved by his mates, blushing like a nun. Pidge cut a sharp glare at her brother, red not for shame but for fraternal rage.

You wanted to stick up for her, being stuck between them as you were. So, you put on a wry smile and raised your eyebrows to deliver your sarcasm,

“Wow, Sergeant, didn’t realize you were such a poet.”

While he was laughing and basking in the crude attention, he now paused and swiveled his head over to you, looking at you intentionally this time, and there was no second take. He laughed a little lower, and looked ruffled that you would challenge his poetic authority. He needed to save face, so he made quite a show of clearing his throat and settled himself nice and close to you before he said,

“Perhaps the bonnie lass would like to hear another?”

You noted his tone on the callback line, and you shrugged, feigning disinterest.

“Of that quality? No, thank you,” you tried to erase all traces of interest from your voice.

He was not to be deterred. Johnny’s face turned serious, and he delivered the next lines as earnestly and without satire, taking your request to heart,

“We are the Pilgrims, master; we shall go, always a little further. It may be beyond the last blue mountain barred with snow, across that angry or that glimmering sea…”

When he stopped his performance, the applause and the cheering erupted again, praising him for his fancy delivery. Thinking he’d won your little challenge, he took a big sip of his own straight whisky and grinned like a cat who caught the mouse. You snuffed it out with the frigid precision only a graduate student would possess,

“White, on a throne, or guarded in a cave,” you enunciated as clearly as you could, matching his volume, and you watched as his pompous attitude was extinguished. He froze, just like a fox caught in a trap, staring at you with wonder. You continued,

“There lives a prophet who can understand why men were born. But, surely we are brave…”

He said the last line with you, his face blank in disbelief and his voice almost a whisper,

“Who take the golden road to Samarkand.”

More cheering than before. You’d won. You borrowed his smug attitude and looked at him, sipping your drink as he did, pleased as punch. He looked wounded but blissfully happy about it. Everyone around you went back into their conversations, chittering and drinking and eating the appetizers that were waiting for you. But, Johnny kept you locked in his sights, staring back like he was seeing you again for the first time, just like when he thought you were a thief. You wondered what it was that you had stolen this time. His pride? The other bridesmaids’ admiration?

“You know Flecker?”

You nodded,

“I’m at Glasgow. Doing a bit of graduate work in poetry, actually. Shakespeare, to be specific.”

You tried to be casual about it. In truth, the “bit” of work was a mountain, and if you were being “specific”, you could talk for days and still not cover the details in full. But, normal people didn’t want to hear about that sort of thing.

Johnny was about to say something with a wide grin on his lips, but it fell as soon as Lachlan interrupted from across the booth’s table,

“My father is an Emeritus at Glasgow. He’s hardly in residence, but he could help you get into the ARG, if I put in a good word.”

There it was again, that sharpness. You smiled genuinely, refusing to be unsettled by his intrusion and his mention of the invitation-only advanced research group,

“I’m running my own research in the ARG now, actually. But, thank you. That’s very generous.”

Johnny was speechless for a moment, but there was something dark roiling around in him as he cut his eyes at Lachlan,

“Aye, mate. Very generous. Did you attend uni as well, or just your da?”

A cruel dig. Everyone knew that Lachlan hadn’t been accepted to his father’s own department. Johnny was dragging out the skeletons of his vast, walk-in closet, a dog with a bone.

Lachlan Black was not one to be bullied, though,

“I went on invitation to Oxford, actually. A full merit scholarship…”

Johnny wasn’t done playing with his food,

“Och! Of course. I've been forgetful lately. And what, uh…degree was it, then?”

Silent tension struck the table like a too-tight guitar string, ready to pop someone across the cheek. Lachlan was clearly rattled, but he recovered with ease. He took a sip of his nearly empty glass and rose as if to get a refill, reigning hellfire as he did so,

“I had already made my first million by the end of my starting year. So, I thought I’d leave the monastery to the monks, right boyo?”

Lachlan stayed standing over the table for a beat, making sure the dog he’d kicked stayed down. Johnny didn’t produce a comeback, but he was close enough to you that you could feel his body prepare itself to deliver one in a more physical format.

When Lachlan left the table, Cherise in tow, Pidge spoke across you again,

“Johnny! What’s gotten into you?”

Her brother rolled his eyes and didn’t answer. He turned his attention back to you, emboldened somehow even in defeat,

“Another round, hen?”

He pointed to your glass, and you nodded,

“Sure, but let me get it. Pidge? Do you want another?”

“Yes! And tell them to bring two tequilas. My wee brother is driving me to drink.”

“I’ll help you carry ‘em back. C’mon, then,” Johnny held his hand out to help you out of the booth, and as you slid your fingers across his palm, he grabbed it with confidence.

He led you to the other side of the bar, as far from Lachlan as he could get, and let you place the order. You sat on the stool to wait and he stood beside you, one arm on the bar and one on the back of your chair, caging you in,

“So, Shakespeare, huh?”

“Yep,” you nodded, hesitating to elaborate.

“You’re after his poems, I take it?” Johnny’s face looked like he was trying to piece together an impossible puzzle.

You sighed, steeling yourself for the ordeal of telling someone all about your project only for them to respond in the most milquetoast way. You told him,

“I’m trying to determine why Sonnet 145 has such an abnormal structure. Some scholars have even claimed that Shakespeare didn’t compose it. It’s the black sheep of the collection, and I am performing an analysis on its rhyme scheme and meter.”

“Do you know it by heart?” He asked, practically begging for a performance.

“Here are your drinks, love. Tha’s twenty pound,” the barkeep stopped you from delivering your encore.

You paid him and balanced the cups in your hand. Johnny took the majority of the burden and made his way back through the crowd with you trailing behind him.

“Ahh!” Pidge squealed with pleasure, “Shots! C’mon, babe. Show these nuggets how it’s done in America. This girl’s a real cowgirl, she is. Watch this.”

You grabbed the salt from the center of the table, shy and miffed at Pidge’s callout, and licked the meat of your thumb to wet it. You sprinkled the salt on it and reached for the lime. Then, you licked the salt, downed the shot, and sucked on the flesh of the fruit, keeping your face as straight as an arrow. Pidge clapped with joy.

“Okay, me next.”

“That’s quite the process, cowgirl,” Hamish commented, admiring your shot-taking ritual.

You didn’t have the heart to tell her that downtown Miami didn’t have any cows, but you just smiled, folding yourself back up into hiding in the booth. The conversations left you behind and your head began to swim from the alcohol. By the time everyone was ready for their next beverage, you were done. Pidge didn’t notice. She’d moved on to champagne and spritzers. You were alone in a crowded room again, as usual.

“Hey, you feelin’ alright, bonnie?”

Johnny’s voice seemed too quiet for a loud bar. You smiled weakly,

“Mmm. Just drank too much, I think.”

“C’mon. I’ll get you home.”

Before you could protest, he was helping you out of the booth and onto your feet. You heard Pidge shriek,

“Johnny! What did I say?!”

“Pigeon! Is that really what you think o’ me? Gonna tuck her in, and tha’s it. I’ll be right back.”

“I swear on Christ and -”

“Yeah, yeah, and all the actual saints. I heard you, you wee dafty. I promise. Not a hair on her head, yeah?”

“You can touch all the hairs on my head, Soap,” Bekah cackled, and the table laughed with her.

Johnny laughed too, which felt like a knife twisting in your chest for some reason. You’d forgotten all about his nickname. Everyone except Pidge used it for him. You thought it was a callsign for the military, but you’d never had to call him anything, so you didn’t remember. But, Bekah did. She called him the right name. You had failed, obviously. Put it on my tab , you thought. You screamed it in your mind, punishing yourself for your mistake: Soap, Soap, Soap…

“C’mon,” he held you by the arm, “I’m out back.”

He loaded you into his Jeep and climbed into the driver’s side, adjusting the knobs for air and music. Some early aughts alt rock was blaring too loudly, and he cut it down, apologizing under his breath. His car smelled like cigarettes and beach sand. It was cleaner than it should’ve been. You felt too hot and too cold, and you wanted to sleep, so you did.

You woke with a jolt after the short ride had ended, and he had you in his arms, nestled close to his chest. He felt you come to and he whispered,

“Shh, lass. We’re almost in. Gonna get you some water and a paracetamol, and you’ll be right as rain in the mornin’.”

“God,” you groaned, “Soap, I’m so sorry. I didn’t really eat anything, and I -”

“Tha’s fine, hen. You’re alright. We’ve all been there, trust.”

He deposited you on his bed, pulling off your shoes and tucking you in. Then, he was gone and back in a flash of your semi-unconscious state. He handed you the pills and the water. It was cool in your hot mouth.

“Here, lass. Take that for me. Tha’s it. Good girl.”

You groaned, feeling sick with drunken stupor and sick with drunken desire all at the same time.

“And, hey,” he bent his face so he was eye-level with you as you lay back down, “Call me Johnny.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chapter 03

#soap mctavish #soap x reader #soap x you #soap cod #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #soap mw2 #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #call of duty fanfic #guile and guilt

129 notes · View notes

speakingofnature · 6 months

Text

Northern Cardinal

Birds depend on a reliable source for fresh water in the cold months. Soon many ponds and streams will be freezing on the surface.

#Northern Cardinal #nature

88 notes · View notes

mysafehaneul · 6 months

Text

VI. AQUAMARINE

CHAPTER 6: MIDNIGHT RAIN

JEON WONWOO X READER

WORDS: 5k+

GENRE: ARRANGE CONTRACT MARRIAGE AU! ENEMIES TO LOVERS!

Angst, Fluff, Smut

(Wonwoo listening his cousin bullshit his way through with his adopted son)

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

Humans are often regarded as one of God's most remarkable creations. Their gift lies in their capacity to feel and, perhaps most importantly, their ability to choose. This choice extends to the depth at which they allow emotions to permeate their existence and whether they will permit these emotions to wield control. Among the plethora of emotions humans grapple with, two stand out as the most transformative: Love and Fear.

Fear can, at times, feel like the venomous bite of a serpent. Its poison infiltrates the body slowly, much like a creeping shadow merging with the blood coursing through the veins. Gradually, your body turns an eerie shade of blue, the coldness seeping into your very core, and then comes the numbing sensation. At this point, it seems as though your soul has departed, leaving behind nothing but an empty vessel.

Jeon Wonwoo, a man of logic and strategy, had experienced this paralyzing fear on just four distinct occasions throughout his life. In his family of Jeon cousins, he had always been seen as the rational and reliable one. Born to Jeon Wooshik and Sunmi, he was their cherished child and the apple of his grandmother's eye. When he was seven years old, his parents had contemplated expanding their business to Japan. However, his grandparents opposed the idea, so he continued his education in his homeland until middle school. At the age of 16, he relocated to London. This was where he first encountered Eleanor, his initial love.

Wonwoo had led a simple, disciplined life. He had a profound understanding of who he was and the influence he held. Yet, he was also acutely aware of the fragility of the intricate game known as life. He understood that the moment one took something for granted, life was apt to roll the dice and reveal its unpredictable hand. Thus, one must continually prove their worthiness. It was his grandfather who had once imparted the wisdom that good things come to those who work diligently for them.

The first of those four chilling episodes transpired when he was 16 years old. At that age, he was the epitome of youthful exuberance, with all the confidence and recklessness that adolescence often entails. He and his middle-school friend, Mingyu, both avid astronomy enthusiasts, set out for a night of stargazing. Mingyu, having recently acquired his driver's license, often drove to a place he discovered in one of his adventures. Mingyu had a dream to build an observatory near the pond in the newly developed section of the jungle, known as Bourbon Street. In one of their ambitious plans, Wonwoo intended to construct a home for himself and Eleanor on the same property. Yet the thing about plans is humor in itself for God.

They were behind the wheel, cruising along the rain-slicked roads. Boys at the age of 16, reckless and unbridled, invincible in their own minds. The night was tranquil, and the promise of adventure hung in the air. Suddenly, as they rounded a corner, a small raccoon darted across the road. Wonwoo's instincts took over; he slammed the brakes. However, the combination of the wet road and the vehicle's speed sent the car skidding out of control. It flipped, the world spinning in disarray.

The experience was an instant awakening. Fear gripped Wonwoo in its cold embrace as he struggled to make sense of the world turned upside down. When he gazed upon his friend, Mingyu, his eyes were lifeless, staring back at him. It was the first time in his young life that he felt the icy fingers of that overpowering fear.

In the days and weeks following the accident, Wonwoo wrestled with a profound sense of survivor's guilt. The memories of the ill-fated night haunted him relentlessly.

He couldn't shake the idea that he should have been the one to die that evening, not Mingyu. Why had the universe chosen to spare him? Why had he survived when his best friend had not? These thoughts tormented him, and he often found himself lost in a whirlpool of sorrow, asking questions that had no answers.

Attending Mingyu's funeral deepened his guilt. As he stood by the gravesite, holding a portion of Mingyu's ashes in his trembling hands, he made a silent promise to his departed friend: he would build that observatory and dedicate it to him, as a way of carrying a piece of Mingyu's dreams and ambitions into the future.

The accident not only left a deep emotional scar but also brought to Wonwoo's attention the stark realities of life. It dawned on him that wealth and privilege could serve as a protective shield against the harshness of the world. The news of the accident had been suppressed, and Wonwoo's influential family had made certain that Mingyu's family was well compensated. Their wealth ensured that they could keep the incident out of the public eye.

Wonwoo's mother, upon hearing the news that her son was safe, clung to him tightly, weeping with gratitude that her precious child had been spared. It was a poignant moment that emphasized how fortunes could dramatically shape the course of life. Wonwoo's grandmother, who had a strong hand in the family, took immediate action. She issued a stern decree that her grandson was not to drive anywhere without a driver, instilling in him a sense of dependency that he had never felt before.

As time passed, The pain soothed and people moved on. After the accident, the municipal held an auction for the land where the accident had happened, and the price had significantly dropped. Wonwoo', well aware of the land's importance, acted quickly to successfully bid for the plot in his name. But he was outbid by someone else named 28. When he turned to look, he saw a lady in uniform and noticed a young girl, not much older than 12, with two neatly braided pigtails and a white frock. She sat prim and proper, yet her gaze seemed fixed on something beyond the scene. The first thought that occurred was 'Isn't she a bit young to be here?'

During the auction's lunch break, Wonwoo strolled near the pond and spotted the same girl. She was assisting a mother duck whose legs had become entangled in plastic and a branch. The duck had pecked at her, but the girl's steady and skilled hands worked swiftly to free the distressed bird. The brood of ducklings stood nearby, watching nervously as the rescue unfolded.

Wonwoo was intrigued and wanted to approach but hesitated, not wanting to disturb the scene. The girl expertly untangled the duck's legs and let her rejoin her ducklings in the pond. Returned with a handkerchief filled with breadcrumbs, and started feeding them.

Wonwoo slowly approached them when her voice cut through,

"You shouldn't walk so loudly; you'll scare them away," she told him gently.

"Sorry," he offered, realizing he had been inattentive. "But didn't they hurt you? Why are you feeding them?"

The girl shrugged and replied, "My mother says that sometimes people who are hurt say harsh things because they don't know how to ask for help."

This response left Wonwoo pondering how a young girl like her displayed more wisdom and sensitivity than most of his friends, peers, and even many adults in his life. As a token of their interaction, she offered him a piece of bread to feed the ducks. Their conversation was interrupted when someone called her

"Miss, Let's go".

She handed Wonwoo the handkerchief, instructing him to feed the ducks well, and then left, heading toward a waiting car where a woman in uniform awaited her. Animatedly, she recounted her rescue mission to the uniformed lady, who listened with a smile.

As the car pulled away, leaving Wonwoo behind, he watched the girl's lively chatter and thought to himself, "Cute kid." He then proceeded to distribute all the bread from the handkerchief to the ducks, tucking the now empty cloth into his pant pockets. It was the first time he had been outbid twice in one day, and it left him pondering how he might acquire the land from the mysterious bidder number 28.

The second time Wonwoo felt that profound fear was during his grandmother's final moments. The room was bathed in a gentle, fading light, and the air was heavy with a sense of solemnity. Wonwoo, his mother, and other family members stood around her bedside, their faces etched with sadness.

His grandmother, a wise and gentle presence throughout his life, lay frail. Her breathing was shallow and labored as she approached the end of her journey. Wonwoo's mother, Sunmi, gently held her mother-in-law's hand. The old woman's eyes, once filled with a lifetime of stories, met Wonwoo's, and in those fading orbs, he saw a mixture of love, wisdom, and sorrow.

With the last of her strength, she whispered words that etched themselves deep into Wonwoo's soul. "Wooshik's father must have been lonely for a long time," she said softly, her voice trembling like a fragile leaf about to fall. Then, with those poignant words, she closed her eyes for the final time.

The third time that chilling fear gripped Wonwoo's heart was on a quiet evening, a month after his grandmother's funeral. He sat alone in his London flat, the room illuminated only by the soft glow of streetlights filtering through the curtains.

His phone lit up with notifications. As he picked it up and swiped through the messages, his world shattered. There, on the screen, were photographs of Eleanor's wedding, a vision of her radiant in her bridal gown, sharing smiles and vows with someone who wasn't him. The images were a bitter testament to the future they would never share.

But it was the text message that accompanied the photos that sent a dagger of fear through him. Eleanor's words were cold and final as if she had made a calculated decision. "I didn't want you to know this from anyone else," the message began, and with those words, a sense of dread intensified. "It is what it is. I gave this a lot of thought, and I don't think the future I envision for myself can be fulfilled with you. The skeletons in your family's closets can easily be discovered if anyone digs enough, and I can't have anyone or anything holding me back. I am sorry, goodbye."

It was the realization that someone he had loved, someone he had envisioned his future with, could cast him aside so easily that brought forth this crippling fear. It wasn't just the loss of love but the revelation that people could be ruthless in the pursuit of their own ambitions, leaving behind a trail of broken promises and broken hearts. It was a fear of vulnerability and the harsh realities of the world, one that came crashing down like a tidal wave on that fateful evening.

The fourth time that fear gripped Wonwoo was on the night before the custody case. He had settled into a fitful slumber on the room couch when the sound of whimpering sliced through the silence of the night.

Groggily, he rose from the couch and followed the plaintive sounds to find you. You were in your bed, yet you were not at peace. The covers were tangled around you, and your body was contorted as if caught in the clutches of a terrible dream.

Tears streamed down your face, and you muttered in your sleep, "Sorry, please, no."

Your forehead glistened with sweat, the beads gathering into small, glistening droplets. It was as if you were caught in a nightmare, a place of torment that he couldn't reach.

Without thinking, he reached out and gently took your hand. He couldn't explain the rush of emotions he felt at that moment—the desire to protect, to comfort, to chase away whatever demons haunted his dreams.

For the first time, he realized that this had become more than just a business deal. In that darkened room, Wonwoo's heart clenched with the understanding that he was now deeply invested in this struggle.

....

For Wonwoo, his pursuit of that particular land had festered for a long time, a clandestine ambition kept secret from even his parents. So, when his father mentioned the L/N family, it felt like the stars were aligning in his favor. It no longer mattered what it took; he wanted it, and he was willing to do whatever it required. Even if that meant getting married. He knew your father was a stubborn man, and how do you tempt someone who seemingly has everything? The answer was simple—by getting to the one for whom he had built that empire.

On a Wednesday morning, Chan presented him with your file. Wonwoo hadn't expected you to be so different from what he had imagined, influenced by popular beliefs and presumptions.

"This is interesting," he murmured, his lips curving into a smirk.

Chan, who stood there holding the file, raised an inquisitive brow. "What is?"

The object of Wonwoo's interest was a photograph. In it, You were sitting in a children's park. Your hair shimmered under the sun; a smile played on your lips as you looked down at your phone. He recalled when you stood, barely reaching his chest in height, feeding ducks in that park.

"She's mostly settled in Switzerland," Chan informed him. "She opened and is running a branch of their family's diamond and stones business there."

"Please turn to the next page," He instructed, Wonwoo's gaze locked on the photograph. He glanced up at Chan as the information continued. "We've gathered that the land was initially solely under her name, but a year ago, an unidentified benefactor was also added."

Wonwoo flipped to the next page and saw a photograph of you pushing a blonde child on a swing. "Her child?"

"Secret child. No one is aware of its existence, not even her parents."

"Secret child, huh?" Wonwoo leaned back in his chair, a sinister smile playing on his lips. The little girl is all grown up now. His fingers traced his jawline.

"What about the father?" He inquired.

"Well, it seems like he's not in the picture," Chan mused, "No pun intended."

Chan caught the fed-up look in Wonwoo's eyes.

"Well, then," Wonwoo said, focusing on the bigger picture, "Burbone doesn't seem that far now, does it, Chan?"

A knowing look passed between them.

....

Late at night, the soft amber glow of a desk lamp illuminated the spacious office of Jeon Wonwoo. A crystal tumbler filled with whiskey stood beside a scattered array of paperwork. The gentle clinking of ice cubes accompanied his contemplative thoughts as he swirled the golden liquid in the glass.

His mind drifted back to the series of events that had led him to this point. Meeting you had been a surprise, to say the least. The sweet and easily chatty girl he remembered from his teenage years had transformed into a rose with thorns, sharp-tongued and unapologetically independent.

When you proposed the marriage, he had seen it as an opportunity to create the conditions and situations that would inevitably lead you to give up the coveted land. There was nothing else about you that interested him, and if he could assist you in gaining custody of a child, there was nothing to lose.

Wonwoo had never been particularly interested in having children, despite his parents' persistent pressure. But as he watched you with Noel for the first time when you both slept in the same bed, cuddled due to the fatigue of the wedding and the flight, something shifted within him. The knots in his heart began to unravel, and gradually, he found himself looking forward to coming home.

Whether you were in your home office or the living area, watching Noel play games or having dinner together, there was an inexplicable warmth in these moments. He had started to make sure that he completed his work by 7 in the evening, eager to be part of these family moments.

He had even stopped smoking at home, convinced by his newfound understanding of the health risks it posed to children. Only two months had passed, but he didn't even realize how much he enjoyed talking to you. It was as if, with each passing day, there was something new and enchanting about your routine, and you were becoming more beautiful by the day.

...

It is widely believed that there's nothing scarier than a man who has nothing to lose. Jeon Wonwoo was widely regarded as someone who had very few things he held dear, making it difficult to get under his skin. Profit always took precedence. So why, when Noel's uncle casually claimed that you both had slept together, did it bother him so much?

The feeling was foreign, something he couldn't quite comprehend. It was none of his business, but still, it gnawed at him. The mere thought of it made him uneasy.

He couldn't explain why your laughter in the field upon his loss resonated within him, why it made his heart pound. He couldn't fathom why he felt pride swell in his chest when he saw you getting along with his family and cousins, especially his parents who hold you in such high regard. Nor he could understand why his heart felt like it was being torn into pieces when you looked at him, your eyes filled with what seemed like a betrayal.

He watched you talking to Eleanor on the balcony, contemplating whether to join you. But before he could decide, you stepped out, looking a little tired. Concerned, he thought about calling you,

As Wonwoo cautiously approached you, he observed your hesitation and stopped in confusion. Just as he was about to reach out and touch your shoulder, he overheard the reason you had paused.

"I mean, what else can I expect? I heard Master Wonwoo’s grandfather used to be a constructor and a loan shark. Poor L/Ns, where they've got themselves, trapped into," one of the maids had said.

"But didn't they build the company?" the other maid asked.

"Well, yes, after getting married, Master Wooshik's grandfather gave his father a handsome dowry on the condition if he leaves—"

Their voices were interrupted by a commanding voice, "What are you two busy chatting about? Come here; dinner time is approaching."

"Yes, ma'am."

Wonwoo's gaze was now fixed upon you, concern etched into his features and lips drawn into a line as he sought to understand how these revelations were affecting you.

The words, "They changed their minds the moment they heard the child's worth," echoed in your mind, like a relentless refrain. The weight of it pressed upon you, causing your heart to ache as your anger grew.

As you contemplated confronting the man who had spoken these words, you realized the futility of such an act. The last thing you wanted was to give them more to gossip about, to become the topic of their shallow conversations. Instead, you decided to remove yourself and Noel from the party, away from these people.

With determined steps, you began walking toward the room where Noel was. He observed your actions, his eyes focused intently on you.

However, as you were about to step into the room, Wonwoo suddenly grabbed your wrist, halting you with a yank. His grip was firm, and his voice carried a sense of urgency.

"Let go of me," you gritted your teeth, your eyes sending a clear warning.

"Where are you going?" Wonwoo asked his tone a mix of concern and curiosity.

"None of your business. Let go of me," you insisted, tugging at your wrist in an attempt to free yourself.

But Wonwoo wouldn't release his hold, and you noticed a waiter emerging from the storeroom under the stairs, looking embarrassed as if caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Wonwoo -" you started, but he didn't let go. Instead, he pulled you closer, his voice a harsh whisper in your ear.

"Y/n, stop giving them something more to talk about."

Feeling your resistance wane, you allowed him to lead you into the room. Once inside, you forcefully yanked your wrist away from his grasp.

"Don't you ever dare to drag me like this," you warned, your eyes blazing with anger.

Wonwoo sighed, clicking the lock on the door. He turned to face you, his hands tucked into his pockets. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a single lamp casting a warm aura. The moonlight seeped through the curtains.

"Sorry," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

You glared at him, your frustration and disappointment evident.

"I get it that you're angry," he acknowledged.

"I am not angry at you, Wonwoo," you replied, your voice dripping with exasperation. "I am angry at myself for believing that someone like you could be any different from the others."

Wonwoo furrowed his brow, genuinely puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about," you retorted, stepping closer to him. "You're just as shallow as Nikolai."

The mention of Nikolai's name sparked irritation in Wonwoo. He took a step towards you. "Two billion is all it took for you and your family to accept Noel? I mean, what else can I expect from a man who said that I always weigh my gains before making any deal."

Wonwoo stared at you, aghast. "You'll take the words of gossip over the two months that you've known me, Y/n? Is that your opinion of me?"

"Don't you dare turn this on me, Wonwoo!" you shot back. "This has nothing to do with gossip. This is coming from what I have observed. Just a few weeks ago, your parents, who were so set against the very idea of Noel's name being attached to you, which, mind you, I didn't even ask for, are now treating him as if he's their own."

Wonwoo looked at you, bewildered. "People can have a change of heart, Y/n."

"Of course, they can, Wonwoo," you replied, closing the gap between you. "That's the whole point. The moment they realize this is not just some poor orphan but the heir to a two-billion-dollar company, of course, anyone can have a change of heart."

Unknowingly, you walked even closer, until you were face to face.

"Don't you think you're speaking a little out of turn here, baby girl?" Wonwoo gave a mocking chuckle.

You didn't back down when he stepped into your space. "Do you think my family and I even give a flying fuck about two billion?"

"Did you even bother asking me what I talked about with my father? What I say to him for them to accept Noel?" Wonwoo's irritation was palpable. "No, you just assumed and deluded yourself into thinking that your version of things is the truth, and the rest are just out here to fool you."

Wonwoo took a step forward making you take a step back, his frustration evident. "I mean, what can I expect from a woman who was in love with her best friend's husband and raising his child as if it's her own? Now tell me, who is the shallow one? Who is the one who's feeding into her own imagination?"

The room was filled with tension, as both of you locked gazes.

They say that no one knows a person better than themselves, but sometimes, when our fears and doubts about ourselves are voiced by someone else, it feels like a crushing weight on our chest. It's as though they've laid bare our pride in a fragile glass jar and carelessly shattered it, the shards cutting into our very being.

As you stared at the man in front of you, your legs felt weak, unable to bear the emotional weight of his words. The defiance that had initially burned within you had been replaced by a sense of powerlessness. A lump rose in your throat, choking your ability to respond.

"I knew I should've walked out of your office that day," you whispered, your voice trembling with sadness. The room seemed to close in around you, and you found it difficult to maintain eye contact.

Wonwoo, however, realized his mistake a beat too late. He had seen the pain in your eyes, and at that moment, his breath hitched as he comprehended the depth of his error. It was clear to him that he had screwed up.

You moved away from him, your head cast down as you walked toward the door. But before leaving, you turned to face him and said, "I think we're done here, Wonwoo. My lawyer will be contacting you soon."

"Don't be stupid, Y/N. You know you'll be losing Oasis and Burbone Road as a whole if you divorce me, right?" Wonwoo's voice held a trace of warning.

You met his words with a sardonic smile. "Consider it a gift for everything you've done till now. Either way, you were going to work your way to earn full ownership, of your side projects under confidentiality. Isn't that right, Mr. Jeon?"

"Don't call me that," he grumbled.

"I'll take the blame so you don't have to worry—"

But before you could finish, he cut in. "The court will withdraw your adoption application. We're in a 6-month trial period, and the first visit is in 2 weeks from now."

You closed your eyes briefly, collecting your thoughts. "That's for me to think about. As I told you in the office, I know there is always another way, another door."

He turned his body toward you, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "What would that be? Another husband, or this time you'll go to that bastard, Nikolai?"

Your patience wavered as his audacity pushed you. You felt the fire that had almost extinguished rekindling. He had the nerve to say this when his flimsy NDA paraded around as if after his mother, she held the first claim over him. "Maybe. Maybe this time I'll just go to Nikolai. What's it to you? Maybe I'll consider his proposal." You stepped into his space, poking your finger into his chest.

Wonwoo could feel a growl rising in his throat, and your next words shattered his control. "I mean, he'll be more than happy to oblige. Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do-"

Before you could finish your sentence, Wonwoo grabbed the back of your head and crashed his lips onto yours.

Wonwoo's breath was heavy as he pulled back slightly, his dark eyes locked onto yours. "Repeat that," he demanded, his voice laced with force and a hint of jealousy.

You, equally breathless, didn't back down. "I said, who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do—"

Before you could finish, he crushed his lips onto yours, his kiss passionate and demanding. You broke for a moment, staring at him with heavy breaths, your gaze shifting to his lips. Without hesitation, you both leaned in, kissing again.

He swiftly picked you up, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. His teeth grazed your lower lip, eliciting a moan from you. Your lips disconnected, and the back of his knees hit the mattress. He sat down with your knees on either side of his thighs. His lips found your neck, and his hand creased your backside, giving it a playful squeeze.

"Wonwoo," you breathed out, your voice filled with desire.

He raised his head from the crook of your neck, his eyes dark with passion. "Yes, Babygirl."

Your chest heaved, your lips swollen from the heated kiss. Wonwoo felt two contradictory emotions coursing through him: anger at the thought of others getting to see you like this, and pity that they weren't able to call you theirs.

Your nails scraped gently across his scalp as you both leaned in for another kiss when a sudden knock at the door interrupted the passionate moment. The voice on the other side called your name, and you stumbled out of Wonwoo's grip, your heart racing.

"Ms. Y/N, are you in there?" The voice persisted.

"Yes," you squeaked, clearing your throat, your cheeks flustered.

"Uhm, Ms. Y/N, Master Jeon is looking for you and Young Master, to join him for dinner. Do you—perhaps know where Young Master is?"

"We'll be right there, Cecilia," Wonwoo answered. You looked at him in shock and mouthed, "Unbelievable."

Wonwoo ran a hand through his hair and threw himself back onto the bed. Your heart was still pounding, as if you were a teenager caught doing something you shouldn't be doing.

"Y/N," he began, but you cut him off.

"I'll go first," you said with a hasty glance and fixed your appearance. With rushed steps, you exited the room and made your way to the dining hall, leaving him behind.

Noel was seated next to your father-in-law, and they were engrossed in a discussion about their upcoming fishing trip. You wanted to move him away from that table, but you refrained from creating any scene. Jungkook sat opposite Noel, and you took the seat next to him. Han Joon-hee joined the conversation, Jungkook was telling a tale of the time he had caught a swordfish with his bare hands, and Noel's eyes sparkled with fascination when he heard it. "The swordfish shoved his sword up his ass," Joon-hee added, and everyone at the table burst into laughter.

Eleanor and her husband were conspicuously absent from the dinner table. You and Joon-hee engaged in casual conversation, discussing topics of no particular significance, but your heart felt heavy with the weight of what Wonwoo had said earlier. Throughout the dinner, you intentionally avoided making eye contact with him. The atmosphere remained lively, but there was an underlying tension beneath the laughter.

....

That night, you lay beside Noel in his room, gently running your fingers through his hair as tears welled up in your eyes. As you struggled to hold back the tears, soon sleep engulfed you and a dream began to take shape.

You found yourself sitting in the bedroom of the apartment you used to share with Noella during your college days. Noella appeared, looking just as she did at the age of 22. You bit your tongue to suppress the tears that threatened to fall. She spoke, "The heart is a heavy burden, my love. It's okay to let your eyes shed some of its weight."

Seeing her, you immediately wrapped your arms around her. "I don't know what to do, Ella. I feel like I'm failing. I wish you were here. How could you be so selfish and leave me? How could you leave your son? I'm constantly worried that I'm not doing enough. Whatever I do will never be good enough. How could you be so selfish, Ella? How could you leave your son like this? How could you leave me like this?"

Noella offered an apology with a touch of humor, "I'm sorry, baby. In the next life, I'll send out the memo the night before."

You looked at her, initially offended, but then the two of you broke into laughter.

"You know, Y/n," Noella began, "sometimes the hardest part of letting someone go isn't about filling the voids that formed in their absence. Sometimes, it's about finding the purpose of every piece they've left behind. So let go, Y/n. Let go of the things that are beyond your control. Holding onto the broken shreds will only make you bleed. Your friendship is the best thing that ever happened to me. You were the light that helped me out of the dark, and I am forever grateful that you're here with Noel."

Tears trickled down from both of your eyes.

"I'm sorry that I was too late to realize what Joshua truly meant to you," she confessed.

You shook your head and said, "I'm glad it didn't turn out that way, or else I would've never been able to meet Noel."

"He's a good kid, isn't he?" Noella asked.

"The best," you replied with a fond smile. Then you added, "Good job."

She shook her head, denying the compliment, and said, "No, good job to you. And I'm sorry for looping you into it."

You teased, "You should've thought of that when you were doing it without a condom."

"Touché," she conceded.

You don't remember how long has it been, you rested your head on her shoulder as she caressed your head. She began In a more serious tone, "I've been thinking…"

you raised your head, she continued, "You should name your daughter Iris."

You turned your head toward her, a look of confusion on your face. "Pardon my who?"

You woke up abruptly before you could get your answer as Noel gently shook you, his concerned young eyes filled with worry., you blinked away the remnants of your dream. His small, concerned face hovered over you as he gently said, "You've been crying and calling out Mama's name. Are you having a nightmare, Tante?"

You managed a weak smile and replied, "No, sweetie. It was just a bad dream. I'm okay now."

Still not entirely convinced, Noel added, "Okay, but wake up, Uncle Wonwoo and I have to go fishing with Grandpa and JK."

'Grandpa huh?'

With that, he scampered off to get ready for his little fishing trip with the boys, leaving you to reflect on the bittersweet dream that had given you a chance to converse with the memory of your Ella.

TBC.

A/N: Wonwoo that was a messed up thing to say bruv! But atleast they kissed so welp! When I was writing that scene I just could help but think of that scene from alchemy of soul s2. I think this is the shortest chapter I’ve written of this series. These days I’m feeling as if this work not of people’s liking due to the lack of engagement. Maybe I should put it in a hiatus idk. Let’s see how this chapter does ig.

MSH

#kpop fluff #kpop angst #kpop smut #bts #seventeen #aquamarine #fanfiction #jeon wonwoo x reader #seventeen fanfic #jeon wonwoo arrange marriage au #jeon wonwoo #jeon wonu #jeon jungkook #seventeen arrange marriage au

77 notes · View notes

strawheart-pirate · 4 months

Text

Home

Sabo x gn!Reader

December 23rd 2023 Words: 809 CW: SFW / modern AU / established relationship / fluff / worries / overthinking / comfort / mention of narcolepsy

Sabo and you are on your way to his hometown to celebrate Christmas with his family. You haven't met his brothers yet, and you're worried if they'll like you.

You fiddled with the hem of your sweater. Sabo and you had been a couple for about five months now, and you were going to go to his home town for Christmas. You wanted to meet his brothers, and you were as nervous as you were excited. Would they like you? What if they didn't? Would they hate you? Despise you? What would that mean for Sabo and you... Your mind is racing and it shows on your face. While you frown with worry, Sabo gently puts his hand on your thigh and rubs it slowly to calm you down.

"No, don't. They'll love you, I promise." He smiled softly, and you were about to cry. This man really had a sixth sense or something. He always seemed to know exactly what you were thinking and when you were struggling, and your heart ached at the feeling of comfort. A small smile spread over your face. "Can you please tell me a little more about them? A story? I think it might ease my anxiety."

"Sure, I'd love to. Christmas with my brothers was always crazy. I remember Ace hiding behind the couch most of the time because he was scared of Santa Claus. And Luffy would make fun of him. They would bicker and fight until the bearded old man stood right in front of them. He had an intimidating aura about him. In no time, both boys were on their knees, begging for mercy because they knew they hadn't been good all year. It was hilarious. Dadan used to laugh so hard she couldn't breathe when she saw it".

"And you were never afraid of the old man with the white beard?" You laughed and couldn't help but tease.

"No, I recognized his voice at once. He was a fisherman from the village. One who was out at sea almost around the clock, but since I was the one Dadan always sent to bring him something when he was ashore, I knew him."

"That makes sense. I remember you telling me that your brothers weren't so reliable when it came to running errands or doing chores..."

"Right, one time Dadan sent all three of us out to deliver three bags of cookies to three different people. I came back an hour later and Dadan sent me out to see where Ace and Luffy were. I knew the routes they were supposed to take, but that didn't mean they took them. It took me three hours to find Luffy in the middle of the forest. His cookie bag was empty and he was talking to a crocodile. I wanted to scold him, but Luffy being Luffy, he just laughed and introduced me to his croco-friend. He explained that he had shared the cookies with the crocodile and they were now nakama and he wanted to take the crocodile home with him.

"Luffy really is a very kind person."

"He is, but I have to warn you. Don't mention bugs or food in any way. He can talk about it until your ears fall off," Sabo said, laughing softly.

"Got it!" I chuckled. "Where did you find Ace that day?"

"Oh, remember I told you Ace had narcolepsy? He passed out in the middle of the road. When Luffy and I arrived, we were lucky. There was already a blond doctor talking to him and treating the scratches on his face and knees while they sat next to each other on the sidewalk. We gave him the cookies to thank him and returned to Dadan. The scolding we got when we got home was terrible, though." Sabo cringed at the memory, but kept a smile on his face.

"What about Luffy's crocodile friend?"

"Luffy was devastated and sad that Dadan refused to let him take the crocodile home. But Santa Claus gave him a crocodile stuffed animal for Christmas, and whenever we went to the forest, we stopped at the pond so Luffy could meet his friend. He also brought him a snack every time." Sabo told you many more stories on your trip, and they helped you a lot. There wasn't a story where something funny didn't happen, so you both laughed your fears away. The hours passed quickly and soon you stopped in the driveway of a shabbily decorated house. It fit in well with the stories Sabo used to tell you. You looked over at him and his gaze lingered on the house. A warm smile spread across Sabo's face, one that you only get to see a handful of times a year, and his eyes had that sentimental touch that you get when fond memories are playing in your head. And in that moment, you knew you would do anything to keep that smile on his face. Even swallow your fears and meet his brothers.

All content unless otherwise stated belongs to: ©strawheart-pirate. Please do not copy / modify / translate / repost my writing, banners or art on other platforms. Comments, reblogs or likes are highly appreciated! Snowflake banner by ©firefly-graphics

#one piece #revolutionary sabo #sabo x reader #sabo x you #gn reader #fan fiction #sfw #strawheart-pirate.events #strawheart-pirate.christmas countdown 2023 #strawheart-pirate.writing

34 notes · View notes

loving-the-cambridges · 4 months

Text

First winter date - Captain Rex - reader

Life day fic exchange 2023 @cloneficgiftexchange

for @dystopicjumpsuit I hope you'll enjoy this :-)

The police station, with its incessant hum of activity, was a world unto itself – a place where stories unfolded every day, some of hope, others of despair. In this world, Rex moved with a quiet authority, his presence both commanding and reassuring. Among the bustling corridors and busy desks, there was a sense of family, a bond forged in the face of shared challenges. Cody, his brother, was a constant figure, his leadership as steady as it was inspiring. Ponds and Fox, his other siblings, added to the familial atmosphere, each with their own unique strengths. Fives and Echo, his cousins, were the younger, more spirited members of this tight-knit group.

In this hive of activity, (Y/N) was a beacon of calm. As a victim counselor, her role was to mend the unseen wounds, to offer solace in the midst of chaos. (Y/N)'s arrival at the station had brought a new dimension to their work, a reminder of the human element in their often mechanical routine.

Rex had been drawn to her from the start. It wasn't just her compassion that captivated him, but the way she seemed to truly listen, to understand the pain of others and guide them through it. He had seen her soothe frayed nerves with just a few words, seen her bring a semblance of peace to tormented souls. And each time, he found himself admiring her more, the professional respect gradually intertwining with a deeper, more personal affection.

But expressing those feelings was a battle in itself. Rex was a man of action, not words. His emotions were a private affair, often hidden behind a facade of stoicism. Yet, with (Y/N), he felt a desire to open up, to share parts of himself he had kept locked away.

The winter evening was a symphony of crystalline beauty, the snowflakes dancing in the air like a myriad of tiny stars. It was on such an evening that Rex found the courage to ask her out. The ice rink, with its festive lights and the promise of shared laughter, seemed like the perfect place.

"Hey, (Y/N)," Rex started, his voice betraying a hint of nervousness. "I was wondering if you'd like to go to the ice rink tonight? Thought it might be a fun way to unwind."

(Y/N) looked up, surprise flickering in her eyes, quickly replaced by a warm smile. "That sounds wonderful, Rex. I'd love to."

The ice rink, aglow with twinkling lights and festive cheer, was a stage set for an evening of clumsy grace and laughter. Rex, with the effortless glide of a seasoned skater, approached (Y/N), who was clinging to the rink's edge like a lifeline. Her determination to spend time with her crush had brought her here, but her skating skills were as untested as a ship's maiden voyage.

"Seems like you've found a new best friend in that railing," Rex quipped, skating up to her with a playful smirk.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, her grip on the railing tightening just a tad. "Well, it's certainly more reliable than my skating skills," she shot back, her tone light but tinged with a hint of nervousness.

Rex chuckled, extending his hand towards her. "How about you ditch the railing for a while? I promise I'm a better partner than cold metal."

Hesitantly, (Y/N) took his hand, her heart skipping a beat. As they slowly moved away from her safety net, she wobbled unsteadily.

"Whoa there, are you trying to skate or are you practicing your penguin impression?" Rex teased, his grip on her hand reassuringly firm.

"Hey, I'll have you know penguins are very graceful creatures... on land," she retorted, trying to mask her anxiety with humor.

Rex laughed, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "Alright, let's focus on the basics. Just follow my lead and try not to mow down any innocent bystanders."

They began with simple glides, Rex patiently guiding her through the motions. Every time she faltered, he was there, his presence a constant source of support.

"You know, for someone who clings to railings, you're surprisingly adventurous," he noted, as she took a shaky glide forward.

(Y/N) grinned, feeling a surge of confidence. "I have a good teacher," she said, her voice softer, more sincere.

As they continued, Rex's teasing became a comforting rhythm, a playful undercurrent to their conversation. He joked about starting a skating school for the hopelessly uncoordinated, playfully suggesting she could be his first student. She laughed, the sound mingling with the crisp night air, her earlier apprehension melting away like snow in the sun.

They attempted a cautious turn, Rex's instructions interspersed with light-hearted comments. "Okay, now just pivot on your left foot... or just do a wild spin, that works too!"

(Y/N)'s attempt at a pivot ended in a whirl of arms and a near collision, but Rex's quick reflexes saved them both from a tumble. They ended up in a close embrace, her hands on his shoulders, his arms around her waist. For a moment, they just looked at each other, the laughter fading into a moment of silent connection.

"See, you're getting the hang of it. Soon you'll be out-skating me," Rex said, his voice warm, his smile genuine.

(Y/N) felt a rush of warmth, not from the exercise, but from the feeling of being this close to Rex, of being the focus of his playful yet caring attention. The evening was no longer about skating; it had transformed into a dance of words and laughter, a shared experience that spoke of budding feelings and the promise of more.

As they left the ice, their hands still joined, the night seemed to wrap around them, a blanket of stars and possibilities.

The transition from the ice rink to the bustling Christmas market felt seamless, a continuation of the evening's enchantment. Rex, still holding (Y/N)'s hand, felt an unspoken reluctance to let go, their fingers intertwined as they navigated through the vibrant maze of stalls and lights. The market was alive with the spirit of the season, each corner a new discovery, each sound a note in the festive symphony.

(Y/N)'s eyes sparkled under the canopy of Christmas lights, her gaze wandering from one stall to the next with childlike wonder. "Look at these ornaments, Rex! Have you ever seen anything so detailed?" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of awe and excitement.

Rex leaned in to look at the intricate glass baubles she was pointing at. "They're pretty amazing. You have a good eye for these things," he replied, his tone laced with genuine admiration.

As they moved on, (Y/N) couldn't help but shiver slightly, the cold finally catching up with her. Rex immediately noticed, his concern evident. "Getting chilly?" he asked, his hand instinctively rubbing her arm in a comforting gesture.

"Just a little," she admitted, a slight quiver in her voice.

Rex's eyes scanned the nearby stalls, landing on one that promised warmth in a cup. "How about a hot drink to warm you up? What would you like?" he asked, ready to fetch whatever she desired.

"Surprise me," (Y/N) said with a trusting smile, her eyes twinkling in anticipation.

Rex returned shortly, two steaming cups in his hands. He handed her a hot chocolate topped with marshmallows, the steam rising like a warm embrace. "Thought you might like this," he said, his eyes searching hers for approval.

(Y/N) took a sip, the warmth of the chocolate spreading through her. "It's perfect. How did you know?" she asked, her smile brightening the already illuminated night.

Rex shrugged modestly. "I just took a wild guess. Glad I got it right," he replied, his own cup of mulled wine warming his hands.

They continued their stroll, sipping their drinks and sharing laughs. Rex pointed to a ring toss game. "Bet you can't get three rings on those bottles," he challenged, his eyes gleaming with playful mischief.

(Y/N) accepted the challenge, her throws missing the mark but eliciting more laughter than disappointment. "Seems I'm as good at this as I am at skating," she joked, her laughter infectious.

Rex joined in, his attempts equally unsuccessful. "Looks like we're both in need of some practice," he conceded, his smile never fading.

Their journey through the market led them to a photo booth adorned with festive props. Rex, ever the instigator of fun, grabbed a Santa hat, placing it on his head with a grin. "Your turn, choose your festive disguise," he said, handing her a pair of reindeer antlers.

(Y/N) put on the antlers, striking a pose. "Ready for our close-up, Santa?" she teased, her eyes shining with mirth.

The photos they took were a series of silly poses and laughter-filled moments, each click capturing the joy and ease of their burgeoning relationship.

As they neared a group of carolers, their voices harmonizing in a timeless Christmas tune, (Y/N) felt a pull towards Rex, a desire to be closer. She leaned against him, her head resting gently on his shoulder. "I love this song," she whispered, her breath visible in the cold air.

Rex's arm found its way around her, pulling her closer. "Me too," he replied, his voice soft, his heart full.

The journey from the vibrant life of the Christmas market to the quiet streets leading to (Y/N)'s place was a mix of comfortable silence and soft conversation. The car ride, with Rex at the wheel, felt like a gentle deceleration from the evening's excitement, a gradual return to reality, yet tinged with a reluctance for the night to end.

(Y/N) sat beside him, her thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. The evening had unfolded like a chapter from a fairy tale, each moment with Rex adding another layer to her growing feelings. She glanced at him, his profile illuminated by the passing streetlights, a sense of warmth enveloping her.

As they pulled up to her apartment, the car's engine coming to a quiet stop, a sudden nervousness gripped her. She didn’t want the night to end, not yet. "Thanks for tonight, Rex. I had a really great time," she said, her voice laced with sincerity.

"Me too, (Y/N). It was... it was really special," Rex replied, his tone reflecting a depth of emotion that resonated with her own feelings.

There was a pause, a moment suspended in time, as (Y/N) gathered her courage. "Would you like to come in? Maybe watch a Christmas movie or something?" she asked, her heart racing with the boldness of her invitation.

Rex turned to look at her, surprise and happiness mingling in his eyes. "I'd like that," he said, a smile spreading across his face.

Inside her apartment, (Y/N) felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. She busied herself with small tasks, turning on the lights, taking off her coat, anything to calm the fluttering in her stomach. Rex followed her in, his presence filling the space with a comforting warmth.

"So, any favorite Christmas movies?" Rex asked, his voice casual but his eyes holding a hint of anticipation.

(Y/N) thought for a moment, wanting to pick something that would set the right tone. "How about 'It's a Wonderful Life'? It's a classic," she suggested, hoping her choice would prolong the warmth and closeness of the evening.

"Perfect choice," Rex agreed, settling onto the couch.

In the cozy confines of (Y/N)'s living room, with the final scenes of "It's a Wonderful Life" painting flickers of light and shadow, Rex and (Y/N) found themselves in a world of their own creation. Their confessions of feelings had woven a new tapestry of emotions, coloring the room with an unspoken promise of something profound and beautiful.

(Y/N) felt a whirlwind of emotions as she leaned into Rex, his arm around her, a gesture of comfort and connection. His heartbeat, steady and reassuring under her ear, was a melody that harmonized perfectly with the rapid beats of her own heart. The air between them was charged with a new energy, an anticipation of what was to come.

Rex, overcome with a sense of rightness and completion, looked down at (Y/N), her eyes lifting to meet his. In her gaze, he found reflections of his own feelings – a mixture of wonder, happiness, and a profound connection that went beyond words. The room, with its soft lighting and the quiet hum of the ending movie, seemed to fade into insignificance, leaving only the two of them, suspended in a moment that felt as timeless as it was fleeting.

As the closing credits rolled, the music a soft undertone to their shared silence, Rex gently tilted (Y/N)'s chin up towards him. Their eyes locked, conveying depths of emotion that words could never fully capture. The distance between them lessened, the magnetic pull of their mutual affection drawing them closer.

(Y/N)'s heart raced as she realized what was about to happen. Her nervousness was a fluttering bird in her chest, but it was overshadowed by a profound desire, a yearning that had been building throughout the night. She could feel Rex's breath, a warm whisper against her skin, the closeness sending a shiver of anticipation down her spine.

And then, in a moment that seemed both an eternity and an instant, their lips met. It was a gentle collision, a soft convergence of emotions and desires. The kiss was tentative at first, a careful exploration, but it quickly deepened, fueled by the pent-up feelings and the undeniable connection that had brought them to this point.

The world outside, with its cold winter night and silent stars, seemed a universe away. In that kiss, they found a warmth and a rightness that spoke of shared futures and whispered promises. It was a first kiss, but it carried the weight and depth of something much more, a symbol of a bond that had been forged in shared laughter, stolen glances, and unspoken affections.

As they finally pulled away, a breathless moment later, their eyes opened to a world that seemed brighter, more vivid.

In the aftermath of their first kiss, a silence filled the room, profound and comfortable, wrapping Rex and (Y/N) in a cocoon of newfound intimacy. The flickering lights from the TV cast a soft glow on their faces, revealing shared smiles and eyes bright with emotion.

Rex, his heart still pounding from the kiss, felt a clarity he had never experienced before. Looking into (Y/N)'s eyes, he found the courage to give voice to the feelings that the kiss had only begun to express. “(Y/N),” he started, his voice low and filled with emotion, “I need to tell you... I’ve fallen for you. It’s been building for a while, but tonight, everything became so clear.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened slightly, a soft blush coloring her cheeks. Her own emotions, a tangled mix of joy and affection, bubbled to the surface. “Rex, I feel the same way,” she confessed, her voice a whisper of shared sentiment. “I didn’t realize it until tonight, but what I feel for you... it’s more than I ever expected.”

Their confessions hung in the air, simple yet profound, bridging any distance that had once existed between them. In that moment, they understood that what they had was special, a connection that went beyond mere attraction or companionship.

With a newfound boldness, (Y/N) leaned in for another kiss. This one was different from the first – it was a confirmation, a seal on the feelings they had just confessed. Their lips met with a gentle urgency, conveying years of unspoken emotions and desires. It was a kiss that spoke of beginnings, of a journey they were now embarking on together.

Eventually, they pulled apart, their smiles reflections of their inner happiness. (Y/N) suggested, “How about we watch another movie?” Her tone was light, but her eyes held a deeper invitation, a desire to prolong the magic of the evening.

Rex nodded, his heart still soaring from their exchange. “That sounds perfect.”

They settled onto the couch, (Y/N) fetching a cozy blanket which she draped over them. As she snuggled into Rex's side, the warmth of their closeness enveloped them, a physical manifestation of the emotional warmth they were both feeling.

As the opening credits of the new movie rolled, they found themselves less focused on the screen and more on the comfort of being in each other's arms. The movie played on, but their attention was on the soft sound of their breathing, the gentle rhythm of their heartbeats, and the warmth of their entwined hands under the blanket.

In the dimly lit room, with the soft murmur of the movie playing in the background, Rex and (Y/N) lay under the cozy blanket, a sense of complete contentment enveloping them. The outside world, with all its noise and haste, seemed a distant memory, irrelevant to the sanctuary they had created here, in (Y/N)'s living room.

Their confessions of affection still echoed in the space around them, a tender yet powerful admission that had changed the very air they breathed. Now, under the blanket, they found themselves in a world of their own making, a world where every glance, every touch, spoke of the deep connection they shared.

(Y/N) looked up at Rex, her eyes shining with unspoken emotions. In his eyes, she saw a reflection of her own feelings – a mixture of wonder, joy, and a profound sense of rightness. It was as if all the scattered pieces of her life had suddenly clicked into place, forming a picture that was more beautiful than she had ever imagined.

Rex, feeling her gaze, turned to meet her eyes. In that moment, words were unnecessary; everything they needed to say was conveyed in the depth of their look. He leaned down, and their lips met in a gentle kiss, a soft caress that spoke of new beginnings and uncharted futures. The kiss was a whisper of promises, a seal on the feelings they had just shared.

As they pulled away, their smiles were reflections of their inner happiness, a happiness that was as much about the presence of the other as it was about the connection they had forged. They stole another kiss, and then another, each one a celebration, a joyful acknowledgment of the journey they were embarking on together.

Lying there, with Rex's arm around her and her head on his chest, (Y/N) felt a sense of completeness she had never known. The sound of his heartbeat was a steady rhythm that seemed to sync perfectly with her own. Every so often, they would exchange a look or a smile, a silent conversation that spoke of shared joy and the comfort of being understood.

Rex, with (Y/N) nestled against him, felt a sense of peace that was new and profound. The weight of his past, the uncertainties of his future, all seemed to fade away in the face of this simple yet profound happiness. He kissed the top of her head gently, a gesture of affection and protection.

The movie played on, but it was merely a backdrop to their own story, a story that was just beginning. Every touch, every shared laugh, every quiet moment under the blanket was a brushstroke in the masterpiece they were creating together.

As the night deepened, they lay there, wrapped in the warmth of the blanket and the warmth of their newfound love. It was a feeling of complete rightness, a sense that, in this moment, in each other's arms, they were exactly where they were meant to be. The world outside could wait; what mattered was the magic they had found in each other's presence, the promise of all the nights and days to come, filled with laughter, love, and the quiet joy of being together.

#captain rex x you #captain rex x reader #LDE23 #clone fic gift exchange

31 notes · View notes

pityroad · 2 years

Text

“It is a muggy August morning and the air in the room is still. Well over half the year has gone by already, which is a worry. I wanted to make something of myself this year. There’s still time, I think. Definitely some time.”

Always keep mint on your windowsill in August, to ensure that buzzing flies will stay outside, where they belong. Don’t think the summer is over, even when roses droop and turn brown and the stars shift position in the sky. Never presume August is a safe or reliable time of the year. It is the season of reversals, when the birds no longer sing in the morning and the evenings are made up of equal parts golden light and black clouds. The rock-solid and the tenuous can easily exchange places until everything you know can be questioned and put into doubt.

"She remembered it was August and they say August brings bad luck. But September would arrive one day like an exit. And September was for some reason a lighter and more transparent month."

“It is August: the true ending of a year. I’ve grown sick from trying to love who I am.”

The Months, Linda Pastan (x) // The Terrible, Yrsa Daley-Ward // The Pond, Mary Oliver (x) // Practical Magic, Alice Hoffman (x) // In Search for a Dignity, Clarice Lispector (x) // Basic August, Eileen Myles // High Bridge Park, Carlie Hoffman (x)

#August #compilations #web weaving #comparatives #Linda Pastan #yrsa daley ward #Mary Oliver #Alice Hoffman #clarice lispector #eileen myles #carlie hoffman #mine

552 notes · View notes

windvexer · 2 months

Note

Hi there chicken 🤠

Yesterday the wind was slow and steady so I decided I'd attempt to stir it up. I noticed a slight change in the direction and strength of the gusts then I suddenly felt silly and discouraged. How can I know that it was me who affected the weather and not just coincidence or whatever?

P.S. I've had great success in summoning up storms in the past but it's been a long while since I've done weather witching so i thought I'd refresh my power with a simple wind raising.

Thanks 🤠🐓

Hi thank you for waiting so long.

I have so little actual experience with weather magic that I can't say.

Here is the beacon in my harbor, if it also helps you:

It doesn't matter if you did jack pancakes.

What matters is if you did the thing, and then change occurred. On a reliable basis to where you can do the thing to improve or effect your daily life on a predictable basis*.

You did the thing and the weather coincidentally changed 7 times in a row, totally explainable by natural phenomena? I do not care one whit the explanation. Do it an 8th time and get 8 predictable results, that is your answer.

Predictably, when you do the summoning storm, according to any various rules of your system, is a storm summoned? Yes?

Ohh by such coincidence such-and-such you only end up summoning storms under various exact conditions? I care not and neither do storms. Tell me a storm is inevitable without you. Prove a storm is inevitable without you.

(You cannot)

I often feel silly when I work magic. I feel 90% silly any time I work magic I am not 100% sure is guaranteed to work. Also, I like to feel at least 10-15% silly any time I work magic I think is guaranteed to work, as a buffer. A clown buffer. To make it easier to argue with the shitty voices in my head telling me my faith is a circus situation.

No coincidences, my friend. That is the wrong angle to attack the situation. Please, ponder: Why a storm? Does the farm pond need refilled? Municipality water supply low? Enemy to be flooded out? What does a storm matter without purpose? What is YOUR purpose?

Do the magic. Is your need filled? Yes? Then who cares.

Who cares. Who cares what did it.

You have a need and the magic fills it 70, 80, 90% of the time. Good. Do the magic. The need is filled better than average.

Does it not fill your need better than average? Then, don't discard the ritual if it brings you joy or satisfaction; but keep looking for various sorcerous solutions. Does the ritual not bring you joy or satisfaction? Set it aside and search for something new.

Keep in mind, dear friend, that sometimes a witch must discover new techniques to keep up with the same skills. A horrid process, but it happens to some of us. Perhaps this isn't the case for you; but don't be discouraged if it is.

(*"Predictable basis" doesn't mean doing the spell at any time under any conditions and finding success. I suspect, Anon [although there's no reason for me to know] that you get the concept that a certain spell works under certain conditions; when the wights are favorable, when the wind turns from some certain directions, or... variables, you know. Predictable basis means when you understand the set of rules under which a spell can manifest, and follow those rules.)

Do your storm magic. Does it fit your needs? Does it fit your joy? Who cares (positive). Who cares even if it doesn't. The storms like you regardless.

#anon very sorry for late reply #I have had a very busy couple weeks #you happened to inbox me while i was out of town #answered

24 notes · View notes

cryptidsofwakemoor · 7 months

Text

Chapter 4 - Pond Paranoia

After being spotted too many times stealing food in the city, and the lab narrowing down his general location as a consequence, Matchstick has to lay low for a while. Thankfully, there is one other fairly reliable place he can go for food, but he might run into something unexpected...

(CW: brief old wound mention in the second paragraph)

~*~

Mystic

Scampering off into the woods, he's left with his bounty of- whatever this food was. A small armload of orange circles, and a handful of chewy pebbles. Did it matter what they were, exactly? It was food! And if he was really craving something else later, he could try digging in trash cans under the cover of night again. He'd have a much easier time scurrying away unseen while the sky was dark.

Odd, how strangely free he felt, now. Clearly, he wasn't safe, not by any means. But he didn't have that awful metal collar around his neck anymore, or those tube things hooked into his back. He could still feel one of them poking into the back of his torso, but it didn't sting as much anymore. The wounded area had scabbed up- he could feel the rocky, cooled magmatic texture that was the byproduct of his broken skin. Lava blood didn't clean up very nice.

...

Hours pass. The sun- at least, he thinks it's the sun, based on what information he was able to piece together from listening in on conversations at the lab and out here- was on its way down to the horizon. Once it set, he was free to go about raiding. The drone cameras would be docked. If Aria really wanted to try hunting him in the night, they'd certainly have a time of it, given his natural camouflage.

Spooky

Little by little, he was able to figure out the timing better.

The people would go away for the most part after it's been dark outside for a little while, and those few who remained were a lot easier to avoid. Turns out that empty den had been the best hiding spot he could hope for, because as the days went by he found he could sleep in there while it was light out without fear of discovery, and was relatively free to roam at night. And of course, he would take this time to go out and collect food, then squirrel it away in the den with him.

Granted, he had a hard time going completely without detection. If he wanted something that wasn't stale or rotting, he had to take his chances during the day. He discovered a sort of wooded area that people would sometimes go to that had flat-topped wooden structures that people would sit at and put their food on, and there were a few that were close enough to the treeline where he could snag something if they left it unattended. He usually did that around the time the sun would start to go down, if he woke up early enough. He was seen a few times, but was quick enough to flee that it wasn't like they could do anything about it.

He broke into a few buildings at night, too. Places where food was made, and other places where it was stored on big shelves. Locks weren't really a problem for him. Not nearly as pressing a problem as his insatiable appetite, anyway.

It didn't take long for rumors to spread around town of a strange shadowy creature that would show up to steal food. Grainy security camera footage of a silhouetted shape with two bright dots for eyes would emerge both online and on the local news, though some would decry it as a hoax to bring in business.

Still, needless to say, the number of drones increased in the area after that.

He had to lay low, and stay away from the town for a while...

Thankfully, there was always that place with the food cylinders on hooks. It was kind of out of the way, and it remained a safe enough place to go, though after he'd visited enough times the tree was kinda starting to run low on those spheres. Still, the food cylinders were as full as ever, and were quick to be replenished.

He ended up making that his main haunt for the next few days, after he quickly ran out of whatever stores he'd managed to gather in his den.

Mystic

Today, he was feeling a little bold. Instinct was telling him to stock up on food. He wasn't entirely sure why, but something about the way the air had begun to gather a chill, set off a small alarm in his brain. Somehow he knew more cold was coming, and that it meant less food.

Didn't help that if he was ever spotted, somebody nearby would yell 'it's the cat-man!', whatever a 'cat' was. It always resulted in people screaming or scrambling to get small devices he could only assume were more cameras, or weapons or something. The scientists in the lab frequently had similar objects they'd hold up toward him during or after testing. He never figured out their purpose. All that mattered was that they didn't cause him physical pain... he hoped.

Back to that house again- the one with the lawn of food cylinders. Right on schedule, they were refilled. Nice.

Spooky

By this time he'd figured out a way to carry more food with him. He'd emptied out a trash bag, and while he'd torn the top off of it while searching for food, there had only been paper trash inside it, making this one more clean of whatever gross sludge was in some of the other ones. And he could just hold the torn part at the top closed with his fist once it was full!

He busied himself with emptying some of the cylinders into the bag, and tossing in a few of the remaining spheres he could still reach up and grab from the tree. There were some more higher up, but he'd have to climb to get them... and he wasn't entirely sure how to do that. Eh, he'd deal with that later.

His attention was grabbed by a big cylinder full of those pebbles, hanging pretty close to the pond. Thankfully not too close to the point where he felt any danger of falling in, so like usual he just casually picked it up off the hook and tipped it so they fell out directly into his mouth, since his other hand was busy holding the bag, and he felt like having a nice little crunchy snack right now before heading back 'home'.

Mystic

...

....splsh

That- came from the pond.

He didn't remember seeing anything in the pond- ever.

A faint ripple passed over the still water as some fin frills broke the surface. They were swiftly followed by a head, sharp teeth bared in a grin.

"Alright, which animal is-"

The gleeful triumph- at having surprised what they thought was an animal- vanished instantly as their words choked with surprise. They drew back in the waters of the pond, staring with wide eyes.

"Holy-" their voice mumbled, that same voice that occasionally talked to the birds or themselves about eating a lot lately. It was the house resident- in the pond? How long had they been underwater??

"You're not an animal!"

Spooky

His eyes shot open wide and he froze with his mouth stuffed. He'd reflexively tried to inhale and a few pebbles got lodged in his throat as a consequence, threatening to choke him. Glowing tears springing up in the corners of his eyes, he forcefully swallowed the mouthful of mostly unchewed pebbles and lurched into a coughing fit, puffs of smoke spiraling into the sky from his mouth.

He'd dropped the cylinder in order to clutch at his chest as his coughing abated, though he eyed her warily as he backed away. Some of the contents of his bag had spilled in the confusion, but he clutched the remainder of his spoils and took off running, crossing the road and fleeing back into the treeline.

Mystic

The strange fish person jolts back a bit in shock, at the sight of him choking. They definitely weren't expecting some kid to be digging in their bird feeders, much less strangling on the peanuts!

When he bolted from the yard, the last thing he sees is the resident standing up out of the pond, hand outstretched toward him.

"Wait-!"

The voice is lost as he vanishes into the trees.

Pounding footsteps almost mask the volume of his heartbeat.

Were they chasing him? Why wouldn't they? They caught him taking their food!

...but- there hadn't been any anger. He didn't know what emotions were there, but at least he knew that anger wasn't one of them.

He makes it back to the den, heaving for breath past the aches in his throat from the singed shells of the pebble snacks. There wasn't a rustle of leaves or branches to indicate a hot pursuit. Whoever they were, they didn't follow him.

Spooky

Going inside, he plunked down on the ground with a rustle of discarded trash bags and food packaging, anxiety still coursing through his veins. Fuck, he was gonna fill this whole damn hole in the ground with smoke if he couldn't calm down...

He breathed in a big shaky breath, as much as his lungs could hold, and held it. He didn't know if this actually helped or not, but it seemed to make him feel better. He then let it out in a big woosh, which unfortunately contained more dark smoke, but at least after that he was able to breathe more normally.

Setting down the bag of food, he slid both of his hands over his head and let it fall against his knees, keeping his hands on the nape of his neck as he tried to think about what the hell he was gonna do next.

He couldn't go back to town yet, and even if that person hadn't seemed mad, he wasn't sure if going back there so soon was a good idea... If he did, he'd have to wait until it was nighttime proper, maybe they'd be asleep then.

But were they gonna still fill those tubes if they knew he was taking from them? They were trying to feed those little flying things, not... not him.

He had more time before he needed to sleep, but he didn't feel like going back out there. He idly tore open an orange sphere and tossed the bits of skin over to where the other bits were piled up, old and rotting. While the juice was kind of annoyingly sticky on these things, they seemed to help keep his mouth from feeling too dried out, and the juice was kind of a relief, as tart as it was.

A part of him wondered if he should've been trying to drink some water this whole time, but he wasn't sure, and wasn't about to try it with that pond. Especially now that he knew he could be ambushed there.

Fuck, it would've been nice if he had a manual on how the hell he was supposed to function... But he must've been doing okay so far, since hey, he wasn't dead yet.

He ended up going through the rest of the spheres he had left without really paying attention, as worried as he was about other things, and just sat there watching the entrance for a while until he felt tired enough to go to sleep...

Mystic

...

That night, he's plagued by a nightmare.

He was being hunted. He knew that already- but this time, they found him.

Branches crunched and smoked under his bare feet as he pelted through the woods.

Metal objects on cables, strings and chains flew from the darkness, trying to snatch his limbs and his torso.

One of them manages to nail a wrist. The metal clasp wraps around the joint, squeezing tight as the cable it's tethered to pulls tight, stopping his forward momentum with a painful wrench.

Another metal object cuffs an ankle, tripping him and throwing him off balance until he falls to the ground. His chin hits a rock, jarring his thoughts.

Finally, another clasps around his neck. It constricts, making it hard to breathe as he's tugged backwards like a disobedient dog on a leash.

"You're not getting away that easily," the ponytailed man threatened, the voice all too familiar even as he can't see him through the fog of the woods. "We've sunk too much time, effort, and money into you. Don't worry, you'll be worth the cost, soon. And after plenty more sessions of mental conditioning and training, I'm sure you'll come around."

Something sharp jabbed into the base of his skull.

He jolts awake. A rock on the floor of the den was poking him in the back of the neck, hard.

Spooky

Dizzied and panicked, he forces himself upright and slaps at the back of his neck with his hand, trying to feel for whatever had stabbed him. The phantom pain still radiated in his mind even as the actual minor pain of having rolled over onto a pointy rock faded, leaving him shaken and confused.

Despite his high body temperature, a cold wave of fear crashed over him, leaving him shivering and feeling a little bit sick to his stomach. He felt like he had to move, but couldn't get up, so he just crawled forward clumsily and fumbled about in the dark, mindlessly pushing the debris in front of him aside.

Despite knowing this place was safe, in that moment he didn't feel like it was. No drones were imminent, there was no clank of chains to be heard outside, nor electronic buzzing. Nothing but the faint whisper of a soft wind drifting down through the entrance tunnel. But what if they were waiting? What if they were waiting out there and knew he was in here and were just waiting for him to slip up and leave?

The paranoia that had crept up on him was paralyzing. He needed to run, but there was nowhere to run. He was already hiding, but it wasn't good enough. He needed to hide even more.

Unable to think of anything else, he went from pushing the trash away to scooping as much of it up as he could and covering himself with it, pressed up against the dirt wall and trying to stay as still as possible.

For the entirety of the next day, he didn't leave the den at all.

~*~

Previous | Chapter Index | Next

#stickman #stickmanoc #stickman oc #mermaid oc #merperson oc #original characters #escaped lab experiment #lab experiment oc #writing #rp format #fedoraspooky #mysticdoodles #original fiction #cosmic fiasco cryptids #cryptids au

44 notes · View notes

winters-mistress · 1 month

Text

Raindrops and Roses

"Here, girl." Vesemir says, placing a wooden plate upon Ciri's lap. The dog in her lap shifts, hid weight a conofrting presence. Icy blue eyes snap in Vesemir's direction, and Thunder growls at him. He's a breeding stud, and one of Ciri's favourite dogs that are here in the Keep. Hunting dogs, they tell her, a soft of wolf shepheard cross, but all Ciri sees are enormous fluffy beasts who she adores. He'd been napping on her ever since she'd returned from lunch, and she had been comforted by the weight and the warmth of the fluffy black and white dog.

The girl looks up from her camp of an old mage's settee settled by the fire, piled with blankets and furs and pillows, her skin pale as she looks up at the oldest witcher.

He reminds her of Eist, warm and strong and commanding and reliable, although Eist definitely wasn't as prickly as the old witcher was. The Skelligan jarl never handed out chores or lashes or scoldings in the way Vesemir did, but her beloved grandfather never lectured Mouseack or Calanthe the way he did Geralt, Lambert and Eskel when he felt they were treating her unfairly or too harshly. It wasn't often, and the quiet talking to's during pillowtalk the Skelligan had with Calanthe never produced the same results as the venomous lectures or whip lashes that the eldest witcher gave out to his pups.

Both men are strong and wise and raggedy and trustworthy and loyal, and Cirilla's heart aches with how much she misses him. The way he would tuck her into bed and curl around her when she had a nightmare, dump blankets upon her little head or rub his knuckles against her temple, tell her stories of his homeland and sneak her cookies and tartlets after one of the nannies had sent her to bed without supper when she had snuck out to play knucklebones or throw rocks in ponds. She misses him horribly, but there is an echo of him in the old wolf that tells her that he will be just as instrumental in healing her hurting heart as much as his pups would.

Geralt is her echo of Calanthe, strong and brave and wicked with a sword. Parental and forceful, antagonistic with her when she needs it just as much as they were gentle when the times for love came. Protectors in their own rights, a strong pillar coming in quick after grief.

Eskel is her echo of Mouseack. Magical and eerie, spiritual and gentle with a gruff exterior. Mouseack's imposing height and large beard spooked off as many people as Eskel's bulk and scars, thick, large hands that are scarred and powerful are the same ones that brush her hair back and wrap bleeding cuts and kiss her hair and light up her room with beautiful images when her ghosts threaten to tear her apart.

She cannot pinpoint who Lambert stands in as just yet. Perhaps a mix of Eist and Lazlo? Eist, who would teach her all the dirty tricks of knucklebones and rook and all the drunk card games, and Lambert, who tells her each and every dirty trick he has with a blade and at the card table as he taught her gwent. Lazlo, who would keep her in line when she would run off with her group of little companions scolds her just as much as Lambert does when she edges too close to poison ivy in the woods or in the caves below Kaer Morhen when the two of them go fishing one afternoon. He is rough and gruff, but he sits outside her room whenever she's woken up from a nightmare, gives her an extra slice of bread and slips her a couple sips of Rivian cherry liqueur whenever Geralt wasn't looking as the witchers hit the bottle.

She loves them all, as gruff and snappy and imposing and scarred as they all are.

Ciri comes back to earth and looks down at the plate Vesemir places in her lap. She doesn't understand why he's feeding her at first, they've had lunch two hours ago. Thick slices of chicken with warm bread and green wild vegetables, as well as some lovely strong and hard cheese and a couple berries Eskel hadn't useful for the pies the day before.

She still thinks about that hunk of cheese and bread, slick from the freshly churned butter that melted into the thick slices. Her mouth waters at the thought.

It's honeycomb. She realises, looking down at the plate. Two large and uneven hunks of the stuff, dripping and slick with honey, and four cookies with dollops of strawberry jam in the middle. The dog snuffles, uninterested at the food, and closes his eyes again.

Her eyes widen at the treats, and she looks up at the old wolf.

"Uh-" he scratches at the back of his neck, an uncharacteristic show of nerves. "I know our tonics and herbs fucked up your-" he points at her stomach underneath the dog and the blankets, and she wishes she hadn't. She'd forgotten about the pain for a few minutes, warm from the dog, while her back was similarly heated from hot waterskin Eskel had gotten for her that morning when she'd woken up in a panic, her sheets slick with blood and horrible cramping in her abdomen.

The witchers ran in, swords at the ready, one after another, and she couldn't find the words to stop their fears, blinded by tears and shaking with the pain.

She remembers when Triss was here and she'd gotten her cycle, when it came to light that the tonics they had her on were fucking her up good and proper. Her bones refusing to heal right, blood thinner than it should have been, the nausea and the headaches and the vivid nightmares and the aches and pains all coming to light, as well as the lumps Triss had found inside her after an examination.

They'd wear off in time, and she had thrown all the bottles of tonic and tea leaves in the fire after slapping them all silly. Verbally and physically.

She'd left for now, promising to come back at the end of spring with word of Ciri's pursuers, and warned all the witchers to never, ever, ever give any type of supplements to the girl again, otherwise she'd rip their balls off and shove them down their throats.

It's only been a month, Ciri supposed, Triss said it would take a while for the cysts to heal. She'd done all she could, made sure they wouldn't rupture, but she was no surgeon who could ease them out, and all they could do was wait for them to come out on their own.

But good gods, this is horrific.

"-the breadseed poppy's milk'll help the pain. But I thought these would make you feel better, try and make the next couple days a bit more bearable." He looks so earnest that it makes Ciri's heart heart a bit.

They hadn't meant to hurt her, hadn't realised the effects the supplements were happening. All they saw was her endurance and muscles were improving, and they all felt awful when Triss beat them all to Ciri's shaking doorframe as the girl screamed in pain.

Kaer Morhen should never hear a child scream like that again, not when it's seen so many.

They'd all apologised, seeming to be beating themselves up and be in worse shape than Cirilla herself had been. Lambert drunk himself into a stupor, Eskel had run -just like those first couple weeks when he couldn't separate the two granddaughter's of Kaer Morhen from each other- and Geralt had gone to slay one of the beasts in the caves wearing too few armour. And Vesemir had slapped them all and brought them to the girl so they could apologise and promise never to do it again.

All the pups think that suffering barters suffering, it seems.

"Thank you." She whispers, touched. These remind her of the honey cookies and strawberry tarts of her childhood, and her heart hurts with the memory and aches with the love she feels. "I-thank you."

Vesemir gruffs and pets her hair like he would the dog upon her legs.

"Eat up, girl. Need all the strength you can get right now. Then take a rest, 'll get Eskel to drop off one of those books you like whenever he and wolf get back from their hunting trip. Lamb's experimenting with some powder he found, so don't be surprised if the keep goes to shit and I have to dig the whip out again."

Ciri giggles, and Vesemir cracks a smile.

16 notes · View notes

rotworld · 6 months

Text

23: Breathless

(previous)

quiet moments and stillness leave you feeling uneasy and afraid. jamie and malachi help you relax.

->sexually explicit. contains body horror, parasites, threesome.

“There is death in you,” the thing in the dark whispers. You are handled gently, like a broken bird in cautious fingers. Alien appendages, rippling frills and soft, flexible tendrils, graze against you. An eyelid, thin and translucent gray, flicks across the enormous, moon-like eye. “Slow, creeping death. Perhaps it can be healed.”

This is a dream like all the others. You can’t breathe or speak. Knowing that you could once, that you managed to dispel the crushing pressure and force air through your constricted throat, frustrates you but also gives you hope. There is a way. You just have to remember.

Your eyes never fully adjust to this sort of darkness, but your other senses sharpen. You hear faraway voices; whispers and song, deep and mournful. You feel the movement of beasts that could swallow you whole, their mere passing knocking you aside. Stars trickle like falling snow. There is light if you know where to look, how to recognize it. Ribbons of it, fluttering like sails in the breeze. You struggle to understand how this could be home—how this could be Anchor. Was it hidden somehow? Cut away like Aliquando Island for its incurable strangeness? Somehow, somewhere, it still exists. You want to see it with your own eyes.

“Brave little thing. Yes, I want to see you, too. To feel you beyond the dream.” You are brought higher, lifted before the great eye. It is silver rimmed with prickling obsidian, a lightless void of dilated pupil stretched across the center. “I will hold you,” it says, auroras waving in the wake of a slow, upward movement, the moon rising and distant. “And I will never let you go.”

[NOW PLAYING ON THE RADIO: GHOST BY NOVAH FEAT. AMANDA MAIR]

You’re woken in the middle of the night. By what, you can’t say for certain. The house is quiet, but you do hear muffled, terse chatter drifting up from downstairs and music softly playing. The shift is vivid through the skylight window. You settle against the pillows and watch reality grow soft and shimmery like the surface of a bubble and other worlds swim by. You think about what Jamie told you about Higgs’ flukes, creatures who send their young beyond the boundaries of the only world they’ve ever known. Do they know what they’re doing? Do they ever wonder what becomes of their children, rocked to sleep in the cradle of their small, fragile eggs by the glistening churn of a shift?

You wonder if they yearn for home, too. If there is a place in the Drift for every fluke, a strange patch of a grass or a quiet pond where this world intersected with another and birthed a miracle.

Time passes and your thoughts are too busy to fall back asleep. You get out of bed groggily, passing the bookshelf on your way to the stairs. The photo of Malachi and the God of Nelton sits atop the shelf now, perched on a lace-edged doily and flanked by fresh cut, fragrant roses. The hallway at the bottom of the stairs is dark but the shift illuminates your way in quivering, luminous color. You’re reminded of your dreams—auroras in the dark. Has the place you come from ever passed by without you noticing, the void moving across the sky like a dark ghost ship?

“I sent out warning letters earlier this evening, but I’m not sure how much good it’ll do,” you hear. Malachi’s voice, deliberately hushed. “I struggle to imagine a scenario where a municipal government would willingly shut off its own anchorware, no matter the risks.”

You hear Jamie hum thoughtfully; the clatter of a teacup on a saucer. “It’s worth trying. I’m more skeptical the letters will reach their intended destinations in the first place.”

“A Verlindan volunteered to deliver them. They have their own roads most places. A bit more reliable than ours.”

“Most, you said. No way to Anchor through the Verlindan backroads, then?”

“Unfortunately, no. They’ve been cut off for a long time now. Makes me wonder how long they’ve been working towards this.”

They’re sitting in the living room, lights off, curtains open to let the alien glow of the shift through. You see Malachi out of his cassock for the first time, dressed in a soft, long-sleeved shirt and blue plaid pajama bottoms. He’s hunched forward in an armchair, leaning over the coffee table with a mug of steaming herbal tea in one hand. Jamie sits across from him on an olive-colored sofa, one bony shoulder exposed by their lopsided, oversized University shirt. They sip from a floral teacup while flipping through a pile of loose papers strewn across the table. There’s a radio sitting on the windowsill, crackling peacefully.

Your footsteps draw a squeaking creak from the floorboards. Jamie and Malachi look up at the same time, their eyes drawn to your shape in the dark. “I’m so sorry. Did we wake you?” Malachi asks.

You shake your head. “Can’t sleep. What’re you guys doing?”

Jamie scoots over to make room for you on the couch. The papers they’re looking over are an assortment of official Nelton documents; anchorware installation paperwork and maintenance reports. “Grasping at straws,” Jamie admits. “Looking for any clue we can find. Getting to Anchor’s just the first hurdle. Everything’s going to be locked down tight.”

The most recent document is from your first visit to Nelton, the time you ran into Bachman. He was here, allegedly, to double-check the installation of new anchorware around the meat processing plant. He signed and dated the paperwork to verify everything was satisfactory. “What about this repairman?” you ask. “Does he seem strange to you? I can never quite remember what he looks like.”

“That’s standard for anchorware technicians,” Malachi says. “They wear advanced shielding tech to stabilize themselves and protect against any sort of anchorware troubles.”

Jamie frowns. “His shielding is cranked up unusually high. We get a lot of repair techs at the University and they’re a little blurry at worst. He might be wearing more than usual, just in case he gets caught up in the malfunctions he’s causing. Then again, you said he hasn’t been here in a while. If you’re going to cause such a catastrophic reaction, it seems safer to do it remotely.”

They take another long gulp of tea and then set their cup down again, just a sliver of dark liquid lingering in the bottom. Malachi plucks the cup and saucer from the table and rises out of his seat gracefully. “Courier, would you like something to eat or drink? There’s lemon balm tea on the stove now. Jamie says you like eggs. I could make a frittata, if you’d like.”

You’re about to decline but Jamie nudges against your shoulder. “Just say yes. He won’t leave it alone,” they mutter, exasperated. “He wouldn’t sit down until I let him bring out half a bakery’s worth of scones and muffins.”

“There were two of each, Jamie, and I seem to recall you ate them without complaint,” Malachi calls from the kitchen. You hear pots and pans clanging around, the sink running, a knife chopping swiftly across a cutting board.

“You don’t have to go to all that trouble,” you say.

The noises pause and Malachi leans out of the kitchen, smiling gently. “It’s no trouble, courier,” he says. “It’s our way here in Nelton. He didn’t want that to change, and neither do I.”

The sounds of a busy kitchen resume; the crisp shredding of vegetables, the crack of egg after egg and the rhythmic hiss of whisking. Malachi starts humming a church hymn. “I’m surprised you’re getting along so well,” you say quietly. “I figured, after the last time we were here…”

Jamie rolls their eyes. “I’m not exactly thrilled about what happened, but I’d be a hypocrite if I held it against him, wouldn’t I? We have bigger problems and he’s willing to help. And he makes acceptable tea.”

“I think you said it was incredible, actually. Some of the best you’d ever had,” Malachi calls. You can hear the smile in his voice. “You asked me for the recipe.”

“I said it was fine.”

You can’t help but smile a little. It’s nice to have a quiet, peaceful moment, after everything that’s happened. But your thoughts return to darker places before you fully relax. You’re staring down what feels like countless unsolvable problems. Thumbing through the papers on the table, you’re reminded of Anchor’s reach, their stranglehold on the Drift. “How are we going to get in?” you ask.

Jamie gestures towards the kitchen. “They want to come with us; everyone who survived the fire. Malachi thinks they have a good shot of getting past the front gate that way. Anchor probably knew what was going on here, and I’m sure they know they got what they wanted. If all of Nelton turns up on their doorstep seeking asylum, they’ll let them in. It’s an irresistible research opportunity.” They sigh. “That’s assuming we can get there in the first place, of course.”

You nod numbly. You don’t feel reassured. How many places are like Nelton now, ravaged by disaster? How many places are unreachable, adrift in time and space like Aliquando Island? You think of all the places you’ve been, the people who have shown you kindness. What will be left of them—of the Drift—when this is over?

“Hey,” Jamie says softly. They reach over, wiping away your tears with their thumb. “It’s alright. We’ll figure it out. We’re not alone in this.”

“I don’t want to think about it,” you admit. It’s all running through your head now; Glenn and Halvard and their family, and the virus ravaging Verlinda. A deliberate choice, you think, because the Verlindans use so little anchorware. Iridesce, who insisted that you be repaid for your work, who trusted you with the most precious cargo. The girl and the Singer and Compass Hill—is it still standing? Is everyone okay? Does it burn while you sit here? Is it collapsing, dragged into oblivion by a catastrophic failure of reality and physics?

“Come here,” Jamie murmurs. “Let’s not think for a while.” They tug you gently closer, a hand brushing against your cheek as they lean in and press their lips against yours. You kiss back frantically, wanting to forget. The Road Ripper. The querrow. The fire in Nelton. An island of artists who can never go home again. You’ve stopped moving and now everything that’s happened has managed to catch up, claws of worry sinking in your heart.

Jamie demands your attention by pushing you down gently and crawling on top of you, setting a slow, sensual pace for the kiss. They nip at you, coaxing out your tongue with their own. Their hips grind down on yours, languid rocking motions that make you gasp into their mouth. “Jamie, we’re—” Your words cut off with a moan when their hands slip beneath your shirt and tease your nipples, thumbs flicking, rolling the buds between their fingers. “We’re on Malachi’s couch, he’s in the next room—”

“Then don’t make too much noise,” they whisper. Your shirt gets bunched up around your neck and their mouth is kissing down your chest, dragging their tongue over any spot that makes you squirm. You have to bite back a gasp when their mouth closes around one of your nipples and you feel not only their tongue but the fluke’s firm, flexible body flick against it. Both soft appendages toy with your sensitive flesh, tonguing and suckling, bullying it into hardness. Jamie watches you through their lashes, peering up at you with a heated look in their eyes.

When they grind on you, you feel something twitch between their legs. A slender, snaking shape throbs against your core.

“I love how sensitive you are. You just melt under me.” Jamie’s hand slides down and palms your sex through your clothes, rubbing and stroking until you push back against their fingers, panting. “I’ve been fantasizing about all the things we could do together. Dreaming about it, sometimes. I’ve never been with someone who knows about me—all of me. I want to hold you down and make you cry. I want you to eat me out and I want to fuck your throat. You have no idea how long a Higgs’ fluke can get once it’s fully grown, do you? It could be inside both of us at the same time.”

Their hand slides into your pants and stroke up and down your sex, agonizingly slowly. The pressure is barely there and not enough, and then they’re moving on again, circling your entrance. They kiss your ear, sucking at the lobe. Their soft, pleased sigh tickles your skin. “C-can you…” You hesitate, embarrassed.

“Can I…?”

“Can you touch…my neck?”

Jamie nuzzles against the side of your face, blowing softly into your ear. “You’re so cute.” One of their hands stays on your sex. The other rises, cupping around your neck. Jamie leans back so they can see what they’re doing, stroking the tender spots beneath your skin. “You want it? Want me to squeeze right here?”

“Please,” you beg. You’re ashamed of how needy you sound already, how hot you feel.

“Like that, baby?” They push down on both sides, thumb and fingers pinching both sides of your neck. The sudden pressure sends a bolt of pleasure down your spine and you shiver, a moan slipping out before you can stop it. Jamie pauses for just a moment. You see their eyes narrowing, a smile snaking across their face. They dig their fingers in harder, rhythmic, massaging squeezes that have you arching your back. The hand between your legs starts moving again, hard, merciless strokes that have you grinding shamelessly into their palm.

You’re going to cum like this, still half-dressed and pushing your hips into Jamie’s playful touch. You feel yourself being driven right to the edge by the friction, Jamie’s dexterous fingers and their legs bracketing your body, the heated, husky whispers and tongue grazing your ear.

And then Jamie glances over the back of the couch, eyes half-lidded, smirking. “Are you just going to stand there, Malachi?”

Heat rushes to your face. Of course he heard you. You want to get up and apologize but Jamie shoves you back down and keeps you there with a hand on your neck—playful, not choking, just enough force that you can feel it. You can’t see over the back of the couch but you can hear tense silence, the creak of floorboards beneath nervous shifting.

“I’m…so sorry,” Malachi says hoarsely. “I didn’t—I shouldn’t have—”

“Are you just going to stand there?” Jamie asks. “Or are you going to come over here, and make your angel feel good?”

You squirm again, trying to sit up, desperate to see Malachi and know what he’s thinking, if this is all too far and you’ve overstayed your welcome. But Jamie caresses your neck again and it takes everything you have not to make an embarrassing sound.

You hear a shaky inhale. “Is that…what my angel wants?”

Jamie glances down at you, their hands stilling long enough for you to get your thoughts in order. “What do you think, courier?” they ask softly. “Do you want us to help you stop thinking so hard?”

You swallow hard. “Is Malachi okay with that?”

You hear movement. Slow footsteps. Malachi comes into the living room and crouches beside the couch, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing it reverently. You want him. You want them both. Jamie and Malachi share a brief glance and some shared understanding passes between them. “My bed would be more comfortable for the three of us,” he says, his voice lower than before.

Malachi’s room is just down the hall. You have little time to appreciate the decor beyond the soft rug beneath your feet. They don’t give you time to stop, doubt and worry. Malachi leads you to the bed and eases you down slowly while Jamie sits above your head. You’re kissed breathless, the two of them working together to have you bare and writhing beneath them. Malachi undresses you like he’s unwrapping a priceless gift and Jamie’s hands smooth over your skin, sliding up and down your sides, caressing your hips, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blades when your shirt comes off and then laying you gently back down.

You can feel Jamie staring. Not at you, but at Malachi, everywhere he touches, everything he does to you. They chuckle. “Awfully bold for a man of the cloth.”

Malachi is between your legs, one hand massaging your inner thigh while the other digs through the bedside table. You hear a bottle click open. His fingers come back cool and slick. “Flesh is holy. Pleasure isn’t a sin,” he says. “I offer this sort of comfort to anyone in the congregation who asks. If you face me while you take pleasure from their mouth, I can show you.”

“I guess overconfidence isn’t a sin either, huh?”

Malachi smiles. He’s gentle and patient, sinking one finger into you and stretching you slowly. “I’ve been with you all this time, in a sense. As long as he was there, so was I. I saw what he saw, felt what he felt. I fell in love, just as quickly. So let me take care of you tonight, my angels.”

You relax under Malachi’s touch. He’s thorough, easily able to multitask. One hand moves in a slow, sensual slide over your chest and abdomen, his palm warm and his featherlight touch stirring unexpected pleasure across your skin. The other hand opens you up further, two fingers crooked and massaging your inner walls. Above the slick sound of Malachi’s lubricated fingers, you hear Jamie let out a soft, pleased sigh.

Nobody speaks, but they both move at the same time. Malachi withdraws his fingers and nudges your knees apart. He’s half-hard and stroking himself the rest of the way, biting his lip at nothing more than the sight of you splayed before him. He pulls your hips into his lap, your lower body slightly elevated and poised right against his twitching length. Jamie swings a leg over your head and settles on top of you, hovering just above your face.

“Hands up here, courier,” they murmur, patting their thighs. “Two taps if you need to stop.” You take their advice. Jamie sinks slightly lower, resting most of their weight on their knees. The position is slightly awkward; with them facing Malachi, you don’t think you can reach their clit very easily.

This isn’t a problem, as it turns out. Just as your hands settle into place, resting gently on their thighs, Jamie stiffens and moans. The fluke’s lower body protrudes from their entrance, its grasping limbs and tendrils nestling against Jamie’s clit and vibrating rapidly.

“How is it when the two of you are involved?” Malachi asks curiously. He has a hand around his length and the other on your hips, guiding his tip inside of you. The first thrusts are slow, gentle, rocking motions that gradually sink deeper into your welcoming heat.

“Indescribable,” Jamie says. “It’s like—like I feel everything twice. Everything is so sensitive.” You slide your tongue against Jamie’s folds and they sigh, encouraging you deeper with a slow grind. At the same time, the fluke pricks your lips. You give it an experimental lick and Jamie shivers.

“You’re gorgeous together,” Malachi says softly. He holds onto your hips, keeping you firmly seated in his lap as he thrusts a little harder, a little faster. It’s not long before you’ve taken all of him and he savors the sensation, sinking in to the hilt and holding you there, his cock twitching against your inner walls.

There’s a pause, one of his hands leaving your body. You hear skin stroking skin; his hand on Jamie’s cheek. It’s hard to believe they don’t still have some sort of connection. Nothing is said again, but after a moment of silence and stillness, you hear them kiss. It’s sloppy, tongue and teeth and swallowed moans, and you know the moment Malachi feels the fluke atop Jamie’s tongue because he flinches, startled—and then kisses them even more feverishly. Maybe no connection is needed. Maybe they’re just more alike than you thought, because they both starts to fuck you at the same time.

Malachi’s hips slam into you and the fluke is opportunistic, slithering past your lips when you gasp. It doesn’t choke you or cram itself down your throat, but you feel that it wants to, the impatient slither of it against your tongue. It’s there, taking its pleasure while you please Jamie with your mouth. It thrusts in and out and you feel it pulsate, the segmentation along its body a strange but appealing texture against your tongue. It’s thicker than the part of itself that comes through Jamie’s mouth, less chitinous, more worm-like. You give it a gentle suck and Jamie rips away from Malachi just to praise you, whimpering, “Don’t stop, don’t stop!”

“Beautiful. Both of you, so beautiful,” Malachi says, sounding enraptured and breathless. He rolls his hips and rarely pulls out of you more than halfway, his deep, grinding pace hitting all the right spots. “If only you could stay, I would worship you like this every night.” You can hear yourself, the slap of Malachi’s hips against yours, the muffled moans you make around the fluke as it ravages your mouth.

Your only warning that Jamie is about to cum is sudden tension in their thighs, more of their weight settling against your face. The fluke fills your mouth and your throat spasms gagging around it. Jamie nearly sobs, riding out their orgasm with harsh thrusts that drive the fluke deeper, and there’s a moment where you are completely, utterly full.

“Fuck, that was amazing,” Jamie mutters. They collapse into bed beside you, smiling lazily as they wipe their juices from your cheeks. “Your turn, baby. Let me see you cum.”

You’re close and you know Malachi’s not far behind. He’s losing his composure and careful gentleness, slamming into you harder. With your mouth unoccupied, he feels emboldened to surge forward and bend you nearly in half, hard, missionary style fucking with your legs wrapped around his waist. He mumbles incoherently and you catch only snippets, slurred worship and keening whispers of, “angel, my precious angel,” as he pounds you into the mattress.

“Are you gonna cum, priest?” Jamie teases. Malachi answers with a groan. He’s losing his rhythm, thrusting mindlessly. His hips snap against yours and all you can hear is his ragged breathing, the slap of your bodies meeting. “Go on. Cum in your angel. Fill them up, give them everything.”

Malachi crushes your lips with his, one last, desperate cry of “Angel!” muffled in the kiss, and you reach the edge. He fucks you through it mercilessly and you’re sobbing, toes curling, your nails raking his back. You don’t know how long he goes after that but it feels like you’re perched on the boundary between pleasure and pain for hours. Malachi trails his lips along your jaw and sucks on the side of your neck, and you think you cum again.

By the time your pulse has slowed and you’re aware of yourself again, no longer tingling and weightless, you’re surrounded by pillows. Jamie is curled up against your side and there’s a warm washcloth dabbing between your legs, soaking up some of the dried cum that trickled out and stained your thighs. You have to get up—have to get back to the guest room, you think—but Malachi chuckles and kisses your inner thigh.

“Get some rest, angel,” he whispers. For the first time in a while, you slide easily and willingly into a deep, restful sleep.

(next)

#rotpeach writes #goretober #the drift

30 notes · View notes