#she's so cool!! her hair was all red and orange too and she reminded me of hayley williams

[yeeterthek33per]

Meet you maybe never (Pernille Harder x Magdalena Eriksson x Reader)

A/n Sort of requested. This one's been in the to be done pile for a while, and I wasn't entirely sure about it, but I knew I wanted to write it. Hardersson need more love, and I will go to the grave saying this.

Content/Warning(s): Fluff, mild angst (really have to squint bc honestly), Artist R.

Part one in a new series of mine. Let me know how I went, guys.

Pernille's sigh of exhaustion holds a familiar weight in Magdalena's mind.

One that she shares greatly, considering she also shares the exact reason for it.

Moving is a pain in the ass.

However many boxes they'd carried up the stairs to their new shared Munich apartment remains to be seen, given that she didn't remember packing this many boxes.

The place has certainly been well maintained, and everything feels brand new too, so they were both very happy with the turnout.

In saying that, unpacking is going to be a nightmare.

Sure, it was a spacious place, and they have several other rooms to work with, but now with boxes in place, their concerns lie with furniture, only being left with a bare mattress and two camp chairs until they could get around to going furniture shopping.

Looking over from her position leant back against the wall, having set down the final box in the living room, she spots her girlfriend lying flat on her back on the cool floorboards, arm draped over her face dramatically.

An amused smile crosses her lips, and she chuckles, moving to sit cross-legged next to the blonde on the floor, hand patting her stomach.

"All good, Love?"

Pernille hums softly, although given the grimace on her face, it's more like a groan than anything.

"Perfect. Just perfect."

Magda holds back a laugh, letting her hand fall to rest on her girlfriend's arm, caressing the skin above where it had fallen to rest over her eyes.

"We'll get there, Love. It's not like you haven't done it before."

"And every single time, I'm reminded how painfully exhausting it is."

The defender simply chuckles, nodding her head as her hand migrates to the woman's hair, gently carding her fingers through the light blonde tresses.

Humming softly, she shifts to lay her head in the younger woman's lap, looking up at her with a small affectionate smile that's returned with a loving look in the swede's eyes.

"Hi."

She playfully taps the defender on the nose.

"Hi."

There's a soft giggle from the light blonde.

"Love you."

Magda's small smile turns into a bigger one as she moves her hand to cradle her face.

"Love you, too."

Maybe moving to Munich isn't all that bad.

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

"Magda, come look at this."

"One second love, this dining set would go pretty well with-"

She looks around her when she notices isn't beside her.

"Babe?"

She calls out.

"Come look."

She wanders over to where Pernille is pointing, a wall across the street visible through the furniture store's windows.

It's painted in varying stages of forest greens, baby blues, and over the top is a beautiful landscape of what they assume to be the German countryside.

A little cottage on a hill, in front of a rising morning sun, brilliant oranges, and reds contrasting the background greens and blues.

"That's gorgeous, we should go have a look later."

"Let's go look now."

"But we have to-"

Pernille's already out the door before Magda can stop her, leaving the swede to sigh softly and walk back out the door after her excited girlfriend.

The painting up close is intricate with little design details that you wouldn't find unless you looked up super close.

Little details, like the bricks on the little cottage, aren't actually solid bricks but aligned words like quiet, peace and home.

The sun is made up of faintly written words of bright, future, and Pernille tells Magda, the German word for Happiness.

It's feels so planned out and thought out, they spend a long time looking over each detail, feeling every line and ridge of paint on the wall.

A local actually stops to tell them about it when they ask.

It'd been there for a couple years, having no idea who'd painted it. It just appeared one day.

They decide they love the piece, snapping a photo of it to show to family and friends for later.

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

"Shit."

You barely feel the wall against your back in the cold.

Winter in Germany is not a fun time to be outside, and yet your stupid bored brain decided it needed to scratch an itch right now.

Waiting to be pick the perfect blank canvas, you had to duck behind a bricked off area while wearing your mask.

It covers most of your face bar a small gap for your eyes.

You hadn't exactly been subtle before and you'd already been photographed wearing it.

The last thing you needed right now was the press up your ass, or worse, the police.

Unfortunately, no matter where you are in the world, paparazzi are terrifyingly aggressive.

Quickly slipping away over another wall, you hop over a bin and find a blank, almost white wall, perfect height and size.

Assessing it for a second and checking for anu nearby vantage points that people could see you in and finding none in the low rise area.

You quickly drop your backpack, rifling through the old thing for your spray caps, and move to get to work.

It had come to you earlier and had been what had initially started the itch, said itch having been in the middle of a work meeting that you could not wait to get out of.

There would always be satisfaction in the way the lines matched up and swirled around others.

This time, though, it wasn't just a colourful background to look at.

You wanted to leave something on top of it, and you knew this one would take time.

Thankfully, you knew this area of buildings was mostly abandoned due to high levels of restructuring, so getting caught by locals wasn't an issue.

It was the occasional roaming tourist that gave you worry.

Pulling out a piece of charcoal, you use it to sketch out the baselines, not wanting to get ahead of yourself again, like you had last time when you spent far too long changing little mistakes made by using black paint first, leading to your biggest issue in the first place.

A public image to the mysterious artist of Munich.

Not something you need right now.

Sighing, you roll your head side to side, eyeing up the now line drawing in front of you

It looks pretty good.

It seems frustration helps you work better.

Unlike quite a few of the lackeys you know at work.

You roll your eyes at that.

Popping your achingly cold knuckles, you admire the lines for a moment longer.

This is one you want people to see, like many of your others, only more important.

It was a big thing for you, and you knew it would finally do something for the right people.

Now, just to fill it in and get the hell out of there.

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

Magdalena and Pernille get a welcoming party with the team.

The captain, Glódís, introduces herself to the pair.

They immediately find the woman incredibly welcoming from the get-go, a warm smile to pair with the kind words and introductions to the staff at the party.

"And finally, you've met him already, but, our beloved man in charge, Alex Straus."

Alex shakes both of their hands.

"Lovely seeing you ladies again, even if it's only been a couple of hours."

He pauses to chuckle softly and then gestures around him.

"I can only hope you're settling in well. The girls are eager to get started on the season with you both."

The nod from the Icelander confirms that with a small chuckle, herself, the lot of them pestering her about the team's newest signings, having to remain tight-lipped until they could meet them in person tonight.

She gestures over to the not-so-subtly excitedly waiting group of women in the room.

"Better go introduce yourselves. Otherwise, I fear they might have my head for hogging you both."

The couple giggle softly at that.

Pernille's the first to settle with the girls.

Having spent four years with Wolfsburg made it so she had to learn German if she wanted to keep up with the banter, so she's into the mix of things quite quickly.

Particularly with the international players who all find immediate common ground with someone who they've played against many times over the years, especially after the most recent World Cup.

Georgia tucks the Dane under her arm, officially claiming her already, and latches onto Magda not soon after, both of them attaching to the Englishwoman right away.

"Finally, after who knows how long of losing to these two at City, I get my transfer here and the find the next season, the ol' captain and striker who gave me so much strife playing against Chelsea, followed me here."

There's so good-natured ribbing, and Georgia pokes Magda in the ribs in particular.

"What, can't take a little Chelsea blue, Gee?"

Magda pushes back of course, competitive as she is.

"Pft, you and I both know Manchester Blue is the best blue."

The swede scoffs.

"You wish, Stanway."

"Nah, it's just facts, Eriksson."

The rest of the group giggles, knowing this fast friendship was going to be an entertaining one.

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

It seems it doesn't take long.

News of the artwork in Munich spreads like wildfire, catching the attention of your bosses almost immediately.

There was no way they would allow the media team to share this, considering the illegal nature of the piece, but they weren't displeased with it's sudden appearance, nor the traction it's gaining either.

It's a big thing for them.

It means more attention on the club, and it means more support from people because of how much they love the artwork.

That was an ego boost and a half.

Now, as you stare at the image on the projector board, you start doing what you always do and pick apart the piece.

Somethings not quite right with it, you think.

"Ms L/n, what do you think of this new development?"

Trying to appear as though you were paying attention, you look around at the other board members around you.

"I think it's the perfect opportunity for our latest news to gain attention. It certainly won't hurt that those players will gain attention, too."

Pausing to think for a moment before adding.

"Of course, there is always the risk of bad attention, especially from the press, but we can deal with that like we always do."

Another pause for a moment.

You glance over to the projector with the photo of the mural, rubbing your jawline softly, noting that something just felt off about the piece all of a sudden.

The eyes aren't right, there's not enough curve to the jaw.

You can't figure it out yet.

The itch returns for a moment before you continue, avoiding starting up too much on the itch.

"And with the good press, the club will gain more support from fans who will follow the players here, too. We should try and boost the promotion while we're at it. I'm aware the media team is doing the usual, but let's get in on the waves these two seem to be making while we're at it. Does anyone have any ideas?"

A woman further down the table pipes up.

"We can set up for some get to the know the players videos, have some meet and greets, send some of the veteran players with them over to a couple different plazas?"

A soft nod from you in agreement.

"Sounds good. We can let the media team handle the rest. Please. Stephen. Continue."

He nods before flipping to the next item on the agenda.

"Thank you, Director."

Nodding at the man, you turn back to your papers, scribbling small notations every so often, once again.

It seems the board aren't against it.

Good.

For now, you'd just have to encourage the publicity of the piece.

Not yourself.

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

With training beginning within a couple of days of moving to Germany, it doesn't take long for whispers of the piece to make it to the gossip in the changing room.

Magda and Pernille don't realise what it's about until they ask what all the fuss is.

Some of the younger girls had been fawning over a photo taken from a distance, the piece lit up perfectly under the early setting winter sun.

Catching the sight of it over the shoulder of one of them, they ask about the name attached to it.

Scrawled in the caption, something catches Pernille's eye, having some knowledge of written German.

'Straßengänger'

Streetwalker.

"Who's that?"

She directs the question towards the younger Dutch girl on the team, Jill Baijings.

"Eh, a popular street artist, though they aren't really known aside from the name. Their stuff is really good, though."

She holds the phone closer to the women.

"Have you seen this yet?"

Pernille looks closer at the image, brows raising in surprise, with a soft muttered 'oh'.

The red, blue and baby blue, apparently FC Bayern themed background, made the highly realistic greyscale portraits pop nicely.

It was a promotional image for them.

As in Magdalena and Pernille.

Words scribbled under the image read,

"Welcome to Munich, Magda and Pernille!"

The image itself is beautiful.

It's an image of their faces in what is most likely both stages of goal celebration, screaming with victory, eyes crinkled and wide smiles, paired together over the gorgeous pattern, highlighting it perfectly.

It almost doesn't look real in the photo. But it's still very awe-inspiring to see.

Fans always have the most talent when it came to art like that, and it never ceases to amaze them.

Magda peers over her shoulder beside her, letting her appreciation for the art be known with a low whistle.

"Honestly, you guys will have to see it in person, though. it's so much better when you can get up close to it. All of their artworks always are."

"What did you say the name was, again?"

"Straßengänger."

"What does that mean?"

It comes from Magda.

"Streetwalker. We don't actually know where the name came from, whether it was the artist themself or the locals but either way."

They both nod, humming thoughtfully.

Maybe they would have to check it out.

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

You know coming back is a bad idea, but you love the piece too much to not come back to it, knowing it would irk you to not get a better stance on anything that might need fixing, despite your best efforts to ignore the itch.

Of course, this time, without the mask on because that be even stupider.

Going back to the scene of the crime wearing exactly the attire that would incriminate you.

Standing back from a distance, you snap a photo under the settling sun in the cooling weather.

Something catches your attention off to the left, a pair walking down the sidewalk, well, more strolling slowly then anything.

Linked arm in arm and bundled far less than a lot of people would be for winter weather, they're wearing coats but braving the cold with thin material pants and shoes.

It's not that that catches your attention, though.

It's more your unabashedly gay side that notices them.

It seems you've caught the attention of your art's subjects.

Because here they are, noticing it finally, standing back admiring your work of them.

You quietly step away, but still close enough to hear the soft murmuring of them, being the only people on the street at this dying hour, you can hear them amongst the small breeze passing over the road.

They're definitely speaking Swedish because you can't make out what they're saying, only understanding the familiar lilt and tone of surprise in their words.

"Det är vackert."

"Varför oss?"

"Jag vet inte men det är fantastiskt."

You're about to walk away when Pernille walks closer to it, running her hand over the dried paint, her eyes moving over the piece slowly.

You notice she's tracing the underlying wording, realising she must have seen your art before to notice it that quickly.

As you keep a subtle eye on her, she's standing in the fading rays of sunlight, giving her a soft golden glow.

Her girlfriend moves to wrap her arms around her and it's then you see both of them a little differently to before you'd seen them in person.

They're absolutely beautiful, together and individually, and you realise you haven't captured that properly with your latest work.

It gives you another itch.

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

"You know, we have to meet this person."

Magdalena hums softly in agreement, hands running over Pernille's shoulders, staring up at the wall, eyes tracing the lines, the shading and the shape work, particular over the little footballs making up the swirls on the O in Welcome.

Her hand moves to her pupils in the portrait, paying attention to the way they're made up of shining stars.

The same with Magda's portrait.

There's a soft shuffle from behind them, and Magda's head swivels to look up at the source for a moment.

You're standing there, looking down at your phone, a soft smile on your face as you tap away at it.

She'd seen you standing there earlier already, taking photos, so she doesn't pay you much mind in the end, and you turn and walk away, putting the phone to your ear.

Although, there is mild niggle of curiosity, she brushes it off.

You're probably just another tourist looking at the piece.

"Come on, we have to head back soon or we'll start freezing out here."

"Few more minutes, Magda... Where's all those Swedish genes gone huh?"

Pernille teases the taller woman, poking her in the cheek.

Magda rolls her eyes good-naturedly.

"Yeah, yeah, real funny, babe."

Pernille chuckles, leaning back into the Swede.

She was right, though.

She had to find whoever did this.

The curiosity was getting to Magda, too.

Why them?

Of any of the influential people in Munich.

Or just any of the women's players.

Why them?

She has so many questions.

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

"And last but certainly not least, welcome to our newest signings, Magdalena and Pernille. Thank you for joining us and we hope you enjoy your stay here at FC Bayern."

The FC Bayern committee room erupts with a small applause from the players and board members before them who were all called in for a club wide meeting, even receiving a small whoop from Georgia in the back that makes the players around her either chuckle or roll their eyes at her.

"Now, handing off to our creative director."

"Danke, Herbert."

Stepping up onto the podium, the person immediately catches Magda's attention.

It's you.

The woman from the other day in town, at the wall.

There you are, climbing the steps up to the podium, black blazer jacket and blue jeans, half tucked with a white button up and a FC Bayern logo embroidered on the jacket pocket.

Pernille notices it, too.

"Now, I know this probably going to be the boring part but I'll try and keep it simple and just go over what our plan is for the next few months."

Looking out over the group, you keep your best public smile on.

"Don't worry, you don't have to remember any of this, as you'll be reminded as each one comes up so we don't miss anybody."

As you start to list off each of the latest marketing events and programs, your eyes shift over the players in their seats, despite the usually tired response at your while lilted, droning about the business side of things, you make eye contact with a very vigilant looking certain pair.

Your eyes crinkle mildly as you fight off too much of wide smile.

"There's a few meet and greets we want to go ahead with before the start of the season, including our newest signings, men and women, we'll send the details to those involved later."

You pause for a moment, eyeing up the latest of the new men and women in the crowd, placing back on the Scandi couple for a second before drifting and continuing.

"And, finally, we have an unfortunately mandatory promotional event on the third of October. It is also a black-tie event, so even me, who as many of you know already, shows up to everything wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, will have to dress up, please do the same. Thank you for listening everyone."

"Thank you, Director."

Taking a seat back with the crowd, it's almost like you can feel a pair of eyes on the back of your head.

You don't turn to face them, though, already knowing exactly who it is.

After the meeting is adjourned, you stand and ready to leave back to your office when a body stands in front of you.

A familiar tall Swede.

"Hey, I don't believe we've met properly."

"I'm Y/n L/n, creative director here at FC Bayern München."

"Magdalena Eriksson, although you already know that, it seems."

You smile, nodding and extending a hand out to her.

She shakes with a warm but firm grip, leaving the skin tingling a little.

She really is much more beautiful in person.

"It's lovely meeting you, Magdalena-"

"Call me Magda, feels a bit much for a full name, now."

"Lovely meeting you, Magda."

Letting go of her hand, you bid her as polite a goodbye as you can give, knowing any longer and you'd gay panic yourself into a problem, you make your way towards the door.

As you shift through the small crowd of players, nodding and smiling in acknowledgement to those who do know you or have met you, you exit the room swiftly, heart mildly racing.

You'd seen the look of recognition in her eyes, not from knowing who you are at Bayern, but perhaps somewhere else.

You aren't risking it.

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

First and second training with the team went as smoothly as it could for any new team members.

However, their third is a little less cathartic.

Having to do extra medical assessments and fitness testing before being able to join the team, everything had been hurting that day.

They arrive home to their shared apartment almost completely worn down from the session.

At home, in their new apartment, finally furnished, for the most part, they both agree to get an early night's rest.

Annoyingly though, they can't seem to find it in them to sit still and toss and turn for the next hour or so, both of them in agreement they weren't sleeping right now.

They head out for another stroll through the quieter parts of the city, instead, taking a bus out there for the first ten minutes or so.

Hand in hand, they stroll down the quiet village-esque side of Munich, just breathing in the cool air, occasionally stopping to admire the rustic, olden style.

It's in the really silent part of town that they notice something.

The distinct sound of... a rattling can?

A spray can to be exact.

Pernille nods in the direction of a small alley, Magda initially shaking her head no, not sure if they should really confront someone who could be possibly dangerous or someone associated with the law.

Of course, the Dane sneaks over anyway to peek into the alley.

There, a figure stands with their back to them, hand wrapped around a baby blue can of spray paint.

The painting looks halfway done.

It's a portrait.

Of Pernille.

The woman's eyebrows just about fall off her face at the surprise and she turns back to her girlfriend who's waiting anxiously, looking about three seconds from dragging Pernille to the next taxi back to their apartment.

She gestures quietly to whisper to her over the cold wind howling through the gaps in the buildings.

"It's that artist."

"I figured, but we really shouldn't be associating with them. C'mon, we have to leave."

"Magda, c'mon, this is our chance to meet the person behind that mural."

A bit of back and forth before Pernille peeks her head around the corner to look, again.

This time, though, the person is bent down, rifling through their backpack, and a spray cap.

When Pernille turns back to a now very concerned Magda, she whispers in her ear.

"Just another minute. Just have a look at least."

The Swede very reluctantly agrees, looking for herself.

Concern is the first thing to pop into her mind.

This one is just of Pernille, accentuating the woman's eye colour and bright smile.

Is the artist, infatuated?

A million thoughts an hour as she watches the smooth, almost mesmerising way their hands trace lines and fill gaps.

When you pull out a paint marker to start with smaller details, she turns back to her girlfriend.

"Are they obsessed with us or something? This feels a little weird at this point."

Pernille frowns, almost shaking her head to disagree.

As the woman's about to answer, there's suddenly some shuffling, almost unnoticeable jingling of zippers and a body sat up on a short wall on the other side of the walkway, bag back on their shoulders once more.

"Actually, I'd say it's more an appreciation for a pair of legends in Munich."

They both startle heavily, Magda going into protective mode, arm around Pernille, pulling herself in front of the woman fully.

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

The pair of them peeking on you were about as subtle as a whistle among bells.

Figuring you'd have to finish it later, you pack up swiftly, ensuring your mask sits on your face correctly before sneaking out of the alleyway to sit up on a wall above them.

After a not-so-much needed scare, you raise your hands in a surrender gesture.

"I won't hurt you. I just figured I should say hello personally since you're both here and all."

Magda looks nervous, and you can see the curiosity in Pernille's eyes from where you're casually seated.

"Although, I do suggest not sticking around. It's going to be a PR nightmare for the three of us if you're seen with the Straßengänger."

You punctuate the nickname with air quotes.

As you're about to jump up to climb onto the rook and make a swift disappearance of yourself, you hear one of them yell out to you.

Hesitating, you turn back to the pair.

"Why us?"

Pernille's brilliant grey-blue eyes look up at you, a radiance of dying curiosity in them as she holds her girlfriend's hand to calm the woman.

You stop for a moment before shrugging.

"A pair of beautiful women in the biggest sport and uprising for women. Why not you?"

It's there Magda gets a unrecognisable look on her face and you decide to leave it there.

With that, you scramble up onto the building, annoyed with yourself for having dragged ALL of your gear with you and also for leaving a half finished work behind.

A day or so later.

Luckily for you, no one else seems to stumble upon your work just yet, and with much scouting and caution, you find yourself back in that alley finishing what you started.

Making sure to adjust the shine in the subject's eyes to fit exactly how they shone up at you the day previously.

This time, the representation of the Danish captain seemed far closer to the spectacle she is in real life.

You're pleased with yourself for this one.

And it's scratched half the itch you'd had days prior.

Now for the other half.

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

After their sudden meeting with the Straßengänger, Magda and Pernille are left with more questions than answers.

They both agree to just return home for the night, knowing it's a question for another day when they aren't in the middle of an already chaotic media storm.

After that, they get swept up in everything Bayern and put everything about the artist to the back of their minds.

Their first match is approaching fast and Alex already has Pernille in the starting lineup, so she gets distracted in preparation for that, finding herself busy studying the formation and technique of an entirely new team.

So much so, that she almost... almost forgets about the mural maker.

Although...

There's just one question that bugs Pernille constantly, despite her best efforts to focus fully on their new path in Germany.

Magdalena feels much the same.

"Who are you, really, Straßengänger?"

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

#woso #woso x reader #woso imagines #woso imagine #fc bayern frauen #magdalena eriksson x pernille harder x reader #fc bayern frauen x reader #fc bayern imagine #fc bayern women #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson imagines #magdalena eriksson imagine #magda and pernille x reader #pernille harder imagine #pernille harder imagines #pernille harder x reader #magda eriksson x pernille harder x reader #magda eriksson x reader #magda eriksson imagine #magda eriksson imagines

[joyridingmp3]

my piercing lady told me that she waits for me every thursday night (i normally come in before singing lessons which happen to be on that day) and she re-did my dermal which got torn out today. when i asked her if i need to pay she said "no!!! don't be fucking stupid!" (in a nice way) <3 and i don't have the money for it but now I'm probably getting another piercing soon just to catch up with her

#she's so cool!! her hair was all red and orange too and she reminded me of hayley williams #I'm going to have to sus out her music taste because I feel like we'd be very hayley and frank #she's lovely and i like her and I love making friends but also if she and her bf ever broke up...... #mine #I'm great like that though I fall in love with anyone and everyone #i used to really dislike that about myself but now it's one of my favourite traits #sorry that I have a heart full of love to give and I see the best in people #yeah I get hurt a lot but it's so worth it #the act of loving is so rewarding in of itself it doesn't even matter if I'm loved in return #ABYWAY sorry I'm drunk rambling now but I've had a really lovely weekend #I really want a lip ring (yeah yeah frank iero icon predictability) but my boss would kill me #I think maybe a neck dermal since I have short hair?? #I'll probably ask her what she thinks

[wlntrsldler]

shades of cool | luke castellan

part two to how to disappear

a/n: happy endings don't exist on this page.

i. and when he calls, he calls for me and not for you; he lives for love, he loves his drugs, he loves his baby too.

“hermes is angry.” 

you knew it was your mother before you even saw her. the two, white doves cooing in the middle of downtown berkeley gave her away. although you hadn’t spoken to her in months, too afraid and too upset to put your faith in the hands of the gods since the night at the pier, your mother tried to get your attention every day. the flowers bloomed like clockwork. on your way to class, red and orange bunches sprouted from the corner of your eye. the once welcome reminder of luke turned bitter and painful. it was as if your mother was mocking you for losing him, for losing love. you felt as if you disappointed her, the daughter of the goddess of love, unable to experience it for herself. it was pathetic, really. 

you tucked your hair behind your ears, suddenly feeling self-conscious with aphrodite’s eyes on you. she was your mother, sure, and she’d been a better parent to you than most, but she was still a goddess– the goddess of beauty at that. your arms were crossed over your chest, eyebrows furrowed, “why?” 

she didn’t answer your question just yet, but she studied your face, eyes scrutinizing the marks of imperfections. she reached over to run her thumb across the bags under your eyes. “you’ve aged, my child.” 

you fought the urge to roll your eyes. this was normal with your mother. she made these snide comments about your appearance, but her comments to you were not nearly as bad as what she said to your siblings, and especially not as bad as what other godly parents put their kids through. you could handle a few jabs here and there. you shrugged, “not all of us have the power of eternal youth.” 

she nodded, pulling her thumb away, “we have not talked in a while.” 

“been busy,” you lied, chewing on your bottom lip. you tugged on the scarf around your neck, wanting to keep your hand occupied as you avoided her gaze. you wondered if your mother missed you, if she actually cared about you. in the weird way that gods do, you suppose that she did care, but you wondered if she cared about you the way a mother would; worry about your safety when you went out at night, worry if you were wearing enough layers in the winter, mundane things like that. “college and stuff, you know.” 

“hmm,” she hummed, unconvinced. she motioned for the two doves perched on the tree branch to fly away. they obeyed her, circling around each other in a dance, before flying away in separate directions, away from the both of you. “how many more years do you have left?” 

“another two after this and then i’m done.” it was odd talking to her like this, in her human form, like she was a normal mother who was just curious about college and her daughter’s future. maybe she even sounded a little bit proud of you; a child of aphrodite, making a name for herself outside of the life she was dealt. “hopefully, i’ll make it to graduate school.” 

a heavy tension hung in the air as your words echoed. aphrodite’s eyes narrowed, thinking. she looked up at the sky, before repeating herself. “hermes is angry.”

you stared at her, waiting for her to continue. there was an unreadable expression on her face, somewhere between anger, pain, and desperation, but it wasn’t her own emotions that she carried. she was mirroring someone, as if their pain was so unbearable, aphrodite herself had to shoulder some of it to save them. the gods were selfish. most of the time, they thought of nobody but themselves, but there were some moments when they showed compassion, when they showed mercy to mortals and demigods alike.

“his son resents him,” she continued, eyes closing like she was picturing it in her mind. “he is angry at me because his son prays to me instead of him.” 

“mom, i don’t want to hear this,” you sighed, anger rising in your system. you knew she knew how you felt about the situation. you’d ignored her attempts to talk frequently. “he made his decision. he’s betrayed us all.” 

“i cannot ignore him, don’t you understand?” she looked at you, eyes glossed over in a pleading manner. she looked too human. it was unsettling. “his love is loud. he is desperate. i am the goddess of love and i cannot ignore him while he suffers, even if he makes me his enemy.”

“the other gods listen to his prayers to me because i can no longer carry the burden on my own. it is too much, my child,” she shuddered, “all he talks of is you.” 

you stared at her, internalizing her words. a shiver went down your spine as you looked at her, “i don’t understand why you’re telling me this.” 

“i have tried to tell you, but you’ve been stubborn,” aphrodite frowned, “you do not pray, you do not make your offerings. you have not spoken to your siblings since that night. you have disappeared from this life as if you were not part of it at all.” 

“because i didn’t ask for this!” you screamed. “i don’t want anything to do with this, mom. losing luke… it killed me. you know this. i can’t go back there and i can’t make offerings to you or the gods when you all are the reason why he did what he did!” 

since that night, you began to question your blind faith in the gods. you’d been taught to worship them and you did because you had to. you were luckier than most, being the favorite of your mother, so you never went against the gods. you thought you had no reason to, until luke began talking to you. he planted seeds of distrust for the gods in you, learning about thalia, meeting annabeth and learning her story from luke, what luke had to go through during his quest. how did the gods sit back and leave their children for dead? but you always believed there was a purpose for all of this, and it provided you with some misguided comfort. then, luke left everyone who’d ever loved him because the anger in his soul won against all odds, and you knew there was no reason to trust them anymore. 

if the gods were all-mighty and all-powerful, how could they let him grow so angry and accept this fate? how dare they ignore him and ruin him? he was kind. he was patient. he was luke. he deserved more than what they gave him. all of you do. aphrodite blinked, trying to understand you. a look of panic flashed across her features, her human form slowly peeling away, but you could see her pulling back. 

“i’m not saying i’m joining him,” you sighed, rubbing your face with your hands, “i’m just saying what he said to percy made sense. luke had a point. the gods were horrible to him and to all demigods. hermes has no right to be angry with you, or with luke. he should be angry at himself. all of you should be.” 

“i can’t forgive luke for what he did,” you whispered, voice calming after a rumble of thunder shook the ground. the gods were listening. “beth still wakes up screaming in the middle of the night. she writes to me every month. i haven’t written back because it hurts, mom. i keep thinking of luke. she reminds me so much of him and it kills me that i can’t do anything to help her. where do i even start? i can’t fulfill the hole he left in her life. nobody can.” 

your mother nodded, clearing her throat. “do consider returning to camp this summer. your siblings miss you and your sister is not doing well.” 

“piper?” 

“silena,” she replied. the doves returned to her. “it was lovely to see you, my child.” 

in a blink, she was gone. you wondered if she’d show her face again, but the rain fell from the sky soon after she left, and you realized you probably wouldn’t. 

ii. but you are unfixable, i can't break through your world.

“i’ll catch up with you guys in a second,” you motioned for your roommates to keep walking home without you. the two girls nodded, sending you a small wave of goodbye, before they turned the street corner. you began walking towards the entrance of the science building, towards the silhouette of a boy you could recognize in every life. 

luke’s jaw was clenched as you approached him. he was caught. luke knew that he shouldn't be here. he knew it was too dangerous, but he couldn't help himself; he had to see you. 

berkeley suited you. in college, you were a normal girl, stressed about finals and getting a summer internship. though luke had never seen you outside of camp before, he always imagined that you’d look even more beautiful when you didn’t have the stress of this life on your shoulders. it was weird seeing you out in the world like this. if he hadn’t known you, if he wasn’t already under your spell, he would undoubtedly fall to worship aphrodite’s favorite daughter.

your friends didn’t know who your mother was, but if they saw through the mist, if they knew the truth, it wouldn’t come as a surprise to them. you had an aura about you that was undeniable and for a minute, luke was jealous that these people around you could freely succumb to your pull, to allow themselves into your orbit, while all he could do was watch from afar. they didn’t realize how lucky they were to be around you, they would never fully understand. 

you looked happy in the bay area, free, like you weren’t a demigod, like you weren’t preparing for a war. a war that he knew he caused. 

he looked down at his feet before rising from the steps. he hadn't planned to speak to you. he’d been following you for weeks, from a distance, of course, he wasn’t going to test his luck any more than he already was, but then you approached him and luke knew there was no hiding anymore. 

truth be told, there was never any hiding from you in the first place. you knew him better than he knew himself. sometimes, it scared him, just how vulnerable he was with you. when he first realized how he felt about you, he wanted to squash the feeling between his fingers and make it disappear into thin air. he knew there was nothing good that could come out of it, but he couldn't help but hope. 

how could he not? how could he not hope that maybe, in some twisted way, he would be able to be with you? that one day, he could stop running, stop fighting, and just love you the way he wanted to. hope was a cruel thing, luke realized after the night on the pier. it makes him believe that there is good out there, somewhere in the future, daring him to hold on just a bit longer, only to leave him high and dry, an empty shell of who he once was. 

“what are you doing here?”

luke let the question linger between the both of you for a second. partly because he didn't know what he was doing here. i needed to see you didn't feel like enough. it barely scratched the surface of what he was feeling. luke was never a wizard with words, but he used to be able to at least say something. now, though, as you stood in front of him, his mind went blank. 

“what are you doing here?” you repeated. you had your arms wrapped around yourself to soothe your skin from the wind chills. luke didn't know it got this cold in california. “i’ve seen you a few times, and i thought you’d give it up, but it’s been weeks, luke. so tell me, what are you doing here?”

luke’s mouth was dry. he thought he was being careful, but he should’ve known better. you could always sense when he was around, just like how he knew whenever you were around. there’s something that shifts in the air, as if it gets lighter and it’s easier to breathe. luke wondered if it was still the same for you. 

“he's using me,” luke whispered, “like a stepping stone to gain power.” 

for a second, your face softened into a look that he knew too well. it was the same way you used to look at him when he talked about his nightmares or when he talked about his mom. a flicker of hope passed through luke’s mind, but he knew better now. he extinguished it before it got too comfortable. 

there was a hint of disbelief in your voice when you spoke again, “what did you think was going to happen?”

“i thought i was doing the right thing,” he felt small. “i thought he wanted to make things better for us. the gods, they’re terrible parents. you know this. what they did to thalia, to all of us, i-i just thought that he would make things better.”

you shook your head, “luke, you betrayed all of us. percy, annabeth– did you know that she cries at night over losing you? over losing her brother? she’s lost everyone luke! and you were supposed to stay. you were supposed to be there for her! i saw her last summer when i came back to camp. beth is so much like you.” 

“i know,” luke was crying. he was exhausted, both physically and mentally. kronos was taking over every part of him. he was there in every crevice of him, just waiting for the moment to drain him of everything he used to be. “gods, i know, angel. i just thought i was doing the right thing.” 

“and me luke,” you rubbed your temples with the pads of your fingers. you hadn’t told anyone this before. you were too busy trying to make sure that everyone else around you was okay. as the oldest one now that luke was gone, you had to step up. your mother was right. your siblings were not doing well, nobody in the camp was. “i feel so stupid for ever trusting you. i keep thinking of every small interaction, every word you said, and i just keep wondering if any of it was real.”

“you don’t mean that,” he shook his head, stepping down to get closer to you. under the light of the streetlamp, you saw him better. if you didn’t know him as well as you did, you probably wouldn’t have recognized him. “everything, all of it, i meant it. you know that right?” 

his eyes were sunken in, dark bags outshining the once vibrant sparkle of his eyes. now, the rims of his eyes were red. his hair was matted against his scalp like he let his curls tangle into knots and didn’t bother to fix them. there were newer, smaller cuts that joined the scar on his face. they weren’t as deep, but they were fresh, a sign that whatever he faced was recent.

“i love you, please tell me you at least believe that,” luke rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palm, “your mom doesn’t answer me anymore. i don’t know what else to do.”

when you didn’t say anything, luke felt the ground crumbling from under him. luke could live with a lot of things; being a failure in the eyes of his father, being a traitor, but you thinking that he didn’t love you was something he didn’t think he could live with. it was real to him, all of it. he didn’t know if this was the right time to tell you that those moments with you were the only things keeping him grounded. 

the image of you throwing your head back in laughter as he tickled your sides, the freckles on your cheeks that showed up during the summer that he would spend hours counting while you slept on his chest, the sound of your voice, talking in hushed whispers, in the dark of the hermes cabin; it was you who he held onto as he fell deeper and deeper under kronos’ control. 

luke walked closer to you, holding out a hand to touch you, when you flinched and backed away from him. your fingers unconsciously reached for the dagger you had on your belt loop. he shuddered, taking in a breath. he looked down at his hands, lips trembling as he wiped them on the fabric of his jeans. there was nothing on them, but he wanted to scrub them clean because it felt as if all the blood he spilled was stuck under his flesh, staining them red. 

you thought he would hurt you. 

“i…” luke trailed off, stuffing his hands in his pockets. he cleared his throat, “i didn’t come here to fight. i could never hurt you.” 

“i don’t know anymore, luke,” you bit your lip, heart breaking as you spoke to him. “i never thought that we’d end up like this.” 

“come with me,” he begged. “run away with me.” 

“is this what you came here for?” you asked, “to try to recruit me like you did with percy?” 

“no,” he shook his head vigorously. he was on the verge of getting on his knees to beg you to believe him. “i want out. i messed up, angel.” 

“you did,” you whispered. he looked genuine like he meant it, like he did want to run away from it. a piece of you wanted to say yes, yes, i’ll run away with you. tell me where to go and i’ll follow you, but it was the part of you that still clung to him. the foolish part of you who still wanted to believe that the boy you met when you were younger, stubborn, selfless, sweet, luke castellan was still there. 

you listened to that part of you on the final night in the hermes cabin, when you told him you loved him and he said nothing back. you tried so hard to lock that part of you away since that night, but it was hard to deny it when he was there in front of you.

“tell me what i can do to fix it,” luke felt like he was going crazy. “anything, angel. i’ll do it. just say the word.” 

you closed your eyes, “there’s nothing you can do anymore, luke.” 

“that can’t be true,” he hiccuped. 

“you need to go.” 

over the last few years, luke experienced brutal types of torture. he often spent days without sleeping, too afraid that kronos would visit him while he dreamt. he fought monsters he didn’t realize existed. he walked away from fights barely hanging onto a thread of life, but this– you telling him that there was nothing else left for him, like he no longer had a place in your life, this was a different type of torture that might just send him plummeting to his end. 

“please don’t come back here,” you added, motioning to the buildings behind you. “this was the one place in my life you haven’t tainted.” 

his apology was left stuck in his throat as you walked away, not once looking back at him. 

iii. but i can't help him, can't make him better and i can't do nothing about his strange weather. 

“y/n,” percy said, approaching you from behind. 

it was the summer. you were sitting on the pier, a joint loosely hanging off your lips. you put out the lit end on the wooden pier, stuffing the joint in your pocket. you knew percy knew you smoked, but you still tried to hide it from him as much as possible. he was too young. 

“hey, perce,” you smiled, kindly, scooting over to give him space to sit next to you. “sorry. you caught me. i’m not really being a good role model right now.” 

“it’s okay,” he assured you, sitting beside you. he looked out into the lake, extending his fingers to cause a ripple effect in the water. “i don’t judge.” 

you nudged his shoulder. percy looked his age in the light of the sunset. you wondered if you ever looked that young. “don’t tell mr. d.” 

“he has plenty of other things to worry about,” percy scoffed, “how are you?” 

you knew why he was asking. beth had told you today that they saw luke in the labyrinth. he was now kronos’ host. when she first told you, you were stone cold, no emotion on your face. you knew something like this was possible. it was only a matter of time until you lost luke all over again, completely this time, but it still hurt even though you knew it was coming. you simply nodded and walked off, finding solace at the pier as you always did. 

“i’m okay,” you replied, though your voice said differently. you played with the sleeves of your sweater, luke’s sweater actually. he left it in the hermes cabin along with the rest of his things. nobody dared to touch it so his bed remained the same as it was years ago, collecting dust. “he came to see me in berkeley… before, y’know.” 

“did he?” 

“yeah,” you sighed, leaning back on your elbows. “he said he wanted out. asked me to run away with him.” 

percy looked at you, “what did you say?” 

“i told him it was too late,” you met his gaze. “i don’t know if it actually was.” 

he didn’t know what to say to that. he’d only witnessed your relationship with luke for a few hours when he returned to camp for the first time. it was only a few years ago, but percy felt like it had been lifetimes. he’d heard about you and luke from annabeth and grover. when there were lulls in their conversations, one of them would bring you up and joke about how you and luke should just confess your feelings for one another. percy didn’t understand it until he saw the way luke was with you. 

luke, who’d taken him under his wing, was love struck. percy didn’t know how he didn’t notice it before, but there were traces of you weaved into luke’s life. a picture of the two of you in his wallet, a small cal berkeley flag taped messily on his wall, a box of his things under his bed that were reserved for you, doodles of hearts in black and pink ink on luke’s counselor clipboard when he did cabin checks, you were in every piece of him. 

luke was glued to your side the entire time you were there and nobody batted an eye. it was normal. luke and y/n, two names that seemed to go together, like they were meant to be uttered right after each other. it felt right. 

“i met your mom,” he said, “she was weird.” 

“sorry,” you couldn’t help but chuckle. “what did she say?” 

“she was obsessed with me and annabeth,” there was a blush creeping up on percy’s cheeks. he looked down at his lap to shy away, but you caught it. it was such a teenage boy response of percy to call your mom, the goddess of love, weird because she caught onto the two kids’ feelings for each other. 

“yeah, she does that,” you decided to spare him the details of why. you were sure the boy would explode in embarrassment if you told him that you also knew about his feelings for beth. you sensed it when you returned to camp last summer. there were inklings of it when you first met them, but now their bond was stronger and it was harder to ignore. “she used to obsess over me and luke.” 

percy blinked, “she said your love was her favorite to watch.” 

now it was your turn to go red, “did she?” 

“yeah,” he nodded, “annabeth thinks that you’re aphrodite’s favorite because you and luke had a great love and she was drawn to it, which is a little mean if you ask me.” 

“agreed,” you replied, “i… i miss him, percy.” 

“i know.” 

“i love him,” you cried, smudging the mascara on your eyes. 

“i know.” 

“he wasn’t always like this,” percy watched your eyes unfocus, like you were playing back the memories you had with luke in your head. “when we were younger, before luke was the golden boy, he used to help me sneak out of camp when i’d get home sick. he’d take me to this abandoned cabin a few miles away. an old couple used to live there and they set up a little free library. luke knew i loved to read so he would take me there so i could pick out new books for the summer.” 

“i didn’t know it then, but before i got to camp, he would steal books from stores during trips into the city and put them in there so i would have new selections to choose from when i got back,” you had a fond smile on your face as you continued, “the cabin was sold to new owners and they took the library down a while back. i think they thought nobody really used it anymore.” 

“he was always good at sneaking around,” you hummed, “he’d walk out of a place with something that wasn’t his inside his pocket; a lollipop for a new camper who was missing home a little extra one summer, a can of soda for beth from mr. d’s stash when it got too hot under the sun, a flower from the demeter kids’ secret garden for me. he never got caught, but everyone knew it was him. i don’t think anyone cared, though, because it was luke. he always had good intentions at the end of the day.” 

“do you think he’s still there?” percy asked, voice hushed into a whisper. “do you think he could ever come back to being that way?” 

“probably not,” you turned to face him. you were mourning him, percy realized then. luke wasn’t dead, not physically anyway, but the way you spoke about him felt like he was already gone. “luke, he internalizes everything he does. he beats himself up over the things he does wrong. if he were to survive this, i don’t think he’d ever forgive himself for it.” 

“this life, this prophecy, it feels like too much sometimes,” he mumbled. the sun was gone now, the two of you sat in the dark, listening to the calm sounds of the water. “i still feel like i don’t know what i’m doing most days.” 

“yeah,” you played with the pink lighter in your hand. the heart you drew on the plastic was long gone and there was no more fluid in it, but you kept it anyway. “my prophecy said that i would lose a love to worse than death and i ignored then because it didn’t make any sense to me, but now it does.” 

“i’m sorry.” percy didn’t know if it was the right thing to say. 

you smiled at him differently, like you were tired, a look of resignation across your face. you stood up, motioning for him to follow you back to camp to join the others. as you walked together in silence, you noticed a single dove fly across the horizon. 

iv. high, neglectful lover. you’re crumbling, sadly. you’re sadly, crumbling. 

you’d fought through your wounds, even as your bones ached and your blood stained the clothes over your body. luke appeared then. you didn’t know if the gods took on mercy on you at that moment, or if was the lack of energy to distinguish real life from your dreams, or a mist that covered the truth from you then, but the world seemed to stop and everyone seemed to fade away. 

all you saw was luke, in his camp half-blood shirt, five beads around his neck, the same boyish smile on his face. his eyes were sparkling as he approached you. his lips felt soft to the touch and his voice was kind. 

“my angel,” he said, wrapping his arms around you the same way he always did when you returned to him each summer. 

if you were to choose the way death came for you, you would choose it just like this, you decided– in the arms of the one love you’d ever known.

#frances writes #frances song fics #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #percy jackson #percy jackson fanfic #pjo fanfic #pjo series

[bitterpotionn]

Johnny Slaughter - Dirt Road

Phew, okay my first ever x reader...ever! I've been so obsessed with Johnny that I had to add my own take on his character. Bear with me, I normally don't do this type of writing. However, I hope to continue to improve. Any feedback or constructive criticism is welcome!

This idea randomly popped into my head and I'm not even sure how to characterize it. A night with Johnny pulled over on the side of an old country road. I experimented with a more hesitant, nervous reader. Again, this is all new to me.

Warnings- Dub-con, unsafe sex, semi-public sex, Johnny's mean, nervous/unsure reader, cunnilingus, focuses more on the reader's inner thoughts, unhealthy dynamics, light slapping, a lot of neck grabbing, Johnny is a litterbug, smoking, name-calling

Red, orange, and yellow streaked across the sky as the sun set deep into the flat horizon. The dirt road he drove down kicked up dust that swirled in circles, disappearing behind them just as quickly.

She laid her head against the seatbelt dispenser, looking out of the rolled-down window. His old white truck hummed as they drove farther and farther out of town. She counted each passing house, fantasizing about the lives of the people who lived in them. What did they do? How many people live there? Do they have kids? What-

"Darlin'" a deep voice cut through her hazy thoughts.

She turned her head to the man driving the old white truck. His right hand was gripping the steering wheel with a bit too much force, while his left lay loosely on top of the stick shift. He was smirking, like usual. He reminded her of a wolf like he could eat her up at any second.

"Are you alright?" his accent thick, the words lazily slipped from his lips.

"Yeah…I was just thinking" she said, turning back to the open window. Allowing the cool wind to hit her face.

He frowned once she looked away, rolling his eyes a bit. His left hand moved from the shift to her thigh, giving it a firm squeeze.

She didn't look at him after that, getting lost again in her wishful thinking. Counting each house one by one by one.

—

She gasped slightly opening her eyes, the sky was dark and she could hear the crickets and frogs chirping. She must have fallen asleep. They were stopped on the side of the road. She could only see vast fields that stopped at the dark tree line. The only light was from the moon and the dull headlights of the truck.

She turned toward the driver's seat. He was out of the car, leaning against the closed driver-side door.

"Johnny…" she said quietly. She knew he couldn't hear her, she almost didn't want him to. But nonetheless, she opened the passenger side door and walked around the truck to stand next to him. He was smoking a cigarette, Marlboro Reds, his favorite.

"What are you doin? Why'd we stop?" she asked looking up at him. He was so tall, that sometimes she felt like she had to crane her neck just to look into his eyes.

He looked down at her and smirked. "Just stopped for a smoke. Got tired of drivin'" he said, grabbing her waist to pull her into his side. He blew the smoke in her direction.

Coughing, she nuzzled into his side, shielding her face from the smoke. She always hated the smell of cigarettes. Recently, though, they were almost a comforting smell. It clung to her clothes, hair, skin, a small reminder of him.

He leaned against his truck, his head tilted up towards the sky. He stared at the stars, expressionless.

"So…how far are we from your family's house?" she asked, breaking the steady silence, craning her head up to look at his face. She held the hand that was gripping her waist, rubbing small circles into his rough skin.

He hesitated. Something he never does, she even took notice. After a long pause, he grunted. "I dunno, maybe another day's drive?"

She didn't pry after that, she didn't want to make him upset. His family was seemingly a very touchy subject, despite him bringing up the idea of taking her there to meet them.

After a while, he threw the butt of his cigarette on the ground stepping on it. He looked down at her, she was still nestled into his side, her eyes now closed.

He chuckled a bit and grabbed her waist leaning her against the driver's side door. Her eyes flew open. "Now hun, I don't think it's fair I'm drivin' all this way and you get to sleep" He hummed out, leaving a trail of kisses down her neck.

"H-hey! I offered to drive you said no" she pouted, wrapping her arms around his waist, pulling him closer to her.

"I can't trust you driving my truck." He scoffed looking down at her. He moved his finger under her chin, pushing it up so she was staring directly at him. "You're just a dumb little girl huh?" He chuckled. A wolf smirk adorned his lips. His words were always laced with degradation. Like he got off on hurting her feelings.

She gave him a pout and stared at him. She was always starstruck at his sharp features. So classically handsome. He reminded her of James Dean. She loved watching those old movies with her dad back home. What was her dad up to? She made a mental note to call him once they arrived at Johnny's home.

He must have noticed her drifting off, he gave her cheek a rough pat. "Focus darlin', I'm not done with you just yet." His hand drifted under her white tank top, his hands stopped just below her breasts.

"Jo-Johnny…" she stuttered out, shivering from his cold hands. "N-not here… It's dark. What if someone sees…" her voice was laced with nervousness.

He scoffed and pulled his hands away. "You're no fun. C'mon…we can go back in the truck, no one will see I promise" He opened the door and lifted her into the truck, so she was sitting with her legs dangling off the seat, facing the outside. His hands were on either side of her, caging her in. She was now looking down at him.

She bit down on her lip slightly, nervous playing with her hands in her lap. She looked into the darkness behind him. Nothing but a cornfield.

He scoffed a bit and played with the buttons of her shorts. "How bout this…" he stopped, smirking up at her before he continued "I'll be a gentleman and help you out first huh?" his calloused hands yanked down her shorts, his arms hooking underneath her knees pulling her closer to him.

She gasped a bit and grabbed onto his shoulders for support. Her eyes were blown wide, and she frantically looked around, worried about someone seeing her in such a vulnerable position.

He grins widely at her nervous state. "You're too cute" he said mockingly as he leaned down, kissing the inside of her thighs. His hand traveled up to her soaking cunt. He gave it a firm slap before looking up at her face.

Her eyes screwed shut as she began breathing heavily. She felt a warm pulsing in her lower belly. "Now look at that…" Johnny gave a low whistle looking at her wet cunt. "Soakin' wet and I barely even touched you" his words were harsh and mocking. He gave her a long lick up her weeping slit.

She gasped, her back arching into him. "F-fuck…m-more…" she whined out, her hands finding their way into his thick hair. His eyes narrowed and he looked up at her pulling away. He grabbed her neck and glared at her, first warning. "Is that any way to ask me, hun?" He smirked at her "Beg nicely, slut"

"J-Johnny please…" her words trailed off, her eyes tearing up in embarrassment, She felt his grip tighten around her neck. "Please! Please…I'll be good!" He hummed slightly, seemingly satisfied with her half-attempt at begging. He began licking and sucking on her swollen clit. Keeping her steady by gripping her thighs.

She cried out as his tongue traveled into her. Her eyes shifted down to him, his face buried in between her thighs, his eyes shut as he worked her. He was eating her with such force. He hummed a bit as he plunged his tongue deeper into her, creating a vibration that made her shake.

He looked up at her, her eyes were shut again. He reached a hand up and grabbed her throat, all while his face was buried in her cunt. Her eyes shot open. She noticed his glare and her breathing hitched. Second warning. "Eyes on me" he said, his voice muffled.

His frantic sucking and licking continued once her eyes were fully locked on him. He reached his hand down and slipped two fingers into her. He curled them up into her rapidly. She felt a blazing sensation in her lower stomach, and her legs began to shake at the sudden entrance. "I…I'm gonna cum!" she moaned out loudly and flew a hand over her mouth in an attempt to quiet her moans. He let out a muffled chuckle as he felt her come undone in his mouth.

He slowly pulled back. His mouth and chin glistened from her arousal. She stared at him and let out a breathy laugh, her eyes hazy and unfocused. He looked so handsome like that. He stared back at her and grabbed her neck, pulling her in for a rough kiss. She could taste herself on his tongue.

He broke the kiss and gripped her chin "What do you say darlin'" His smirk was wide. "Thank you" she breathed out, laying back, trying to catch her breath.

Johnny grabbed her waist and set her back into the passenger seat. He climbed into the truck and shut the door. She panted and laid against the window staring up at the stars. Her mind felt misty.

Johnny stared at her and rubbed the bulge in his tight jeans. He hardly ever worried about just her pleasure. He always needed something in return. He grabbed her thigh "Aren't you forgettin' something doll?" he said leaning back, his hand fiddling with his belt, trying to undo it. She stared out the window, ignoring him. She couldn't look away from the millions of stars lighting up the night sky.

He scoffed a bit and grabbed her neck, yanking her towards him, into his lap. "I'm gettin' tired of you not listenin' to me" he growled out pulling out his throbbing cock, final warning. He set her in his lap and glared at her. She gasped, staring at him, her eyes wide with fear. "I'm…I'm sorry-"

"Show me that you're sorry" he stroked himself a couple of times before easing her down on his cock. Her eyes widened at the feeling of him filling her so suddenly. He didn't let her adjust, he just began thrusting up into her, while gripping her neck. Keeping her in place.

She held onto his shoulders, her head kept hitting the top of the truck as he thrust into her. She whined out and tried to move her head into the crook of his neck but he stopped her. "Nooo you're gonna look at me while I fuck you, slut" he snapped pushing her head back.

Her head hit the roof, over and over again. Each thrust burned. She stared at him, his eyes were so dark, she could barely even see him due to the darkness of the surrounding country road. She knew he was smirking, getting off on her discomfort. She was lucky he even decided to pleasure her first, she should be grateful, right?

“Fuckkk” he groaned out lowly as he continued his brutal thrusts into her. “You’re my good girl huh?” His hands traveled to her face, pulling her down to kiss him roughly. She whined a bit at this but kissed him back anyway. The stretch of his cock was becoming too much to bear. She prayed he would finish soon.

She found herself focusing on the scar that ran down his face, subtle but there. It was a way she feigned eye contact with him, she found that keeping unbreaking eye contact with him was almost impossible. His thrusts became jagged and sloppy. A small moan escaped his lips that he quickly covered with a loud chuckle. “I’m gonna fill you up real good darlin’”

Despite the intense burning, she felt herself coming close to the edge as well. She was able to sneak down a hand to rub her clit, Johnny was too worried about himself to stimulate her like that. “Please…please…” she begged, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t know if she was begging to finish or for him to stop.

With a loud groan, Johnny thrust back up into her one more time, releasing his hot load deep inside her sore cunt. She let out a loud moan as she came undone as well, shivering at the feeling of him filling her up. She collapsed into his chest, the top of her head aching.

He let out a laugh before setting her beside him, he cleaned himself off with some napkins from the glove department, tossing them carelessly out the window.

She shook as she looked out the window again, looking up at the stars again. 1…2…3… she counted, trying to distract herself from the sickly feeling of his cum dripping out of her. Without another word from him, she felt the soft rumble of the truck as he started it back up. Continuing, farther and farther out of town.

#johnny slaughter #texas chainsaw massacre #johnny slaughter x reader #tcm game #tcm #smut #johnny slaughter smut #johnny tcm game #bitterpotionnfics

[reki-of-the-valley]

You Are in Love

Read it on AO3 here!

1 - You Are in Love

It’s the way Langa is crouched, the way his weight is shifted forward to his toes. It’s the way he smiles, the way his fingers fiddle with the buttons of the little pink coat. It’s the way Chihiro is standing as straight as she can, her chin tilted up. It’s the way the scene plays out, the way Langa, Langa who had always been so wary around the twins, now seems so comfortable. It’s as if he’d always been here, always been in this entrance, always helping around the Kyan household. It’s the way he fits in so well, as if he has always been a part of this family.

“Need help, Reki?”

Reki has to shake himself out of his trance, the rest of the world coming back to him. Chihiro is there, slipping her shoes on while Nanaka is waiting by the door, a grin that matches Reki’s. The sun is high, rays streaming through the glass panels of the door. The weather is perfect for a walk with the girls to the ice cream parlor; not too warm, but still not cool enough to not want ice cream. And the girls can’t wait, Nanaka already rambling away about all the ice cream flavors she wants to try.

“Well?”

A breath catches in Reki’s throat as Langa stands there, his fingers twisting around the strings of his yellow hoodie. His smile is soft, just like when he had been buttoning up Chihiro’s coat. There’s a peek of his teeth, pretty and white, between his ever so slightly parted lips. And the sunshine catches in the blue of his eyes, leaving them with a shimmer Reki’s never seen before. But there’s no time to linger on that, not when Nanaka’s fingers curl around Reki’s.

Everything goes fast from there: a sweater hastily thrown over his hoodie, the back of his shoe squashed under the weight of his heel, a wallet grabbed from the top of the show cabinet. Everything goes so fast: Nanaka and Chihiro running ahead, the path already memorized, the sound of Langa’s laughter filling the autumn air, another joke breaking up his laughter. If this is what it means to have a normal life, Reki’s ready for it. He doesn’t need the uncertainty that the past had handed him. He doesn’t need any of that, not when he can have this.

“Really, Reki, we can stop for a second to let you put your shoes on properly.”

“It’s fine, man. Anyway, the twins would kill me if I made them wait any longer.”

Langa shrugs before turning away from Reki. He looks ahead, hands in his pockets as he kicks a stone along the road. He looks older like that, his eyes riveted on the two girls ahead of them. He looks older like this, reminding them to not run too far head and to stay together. He looks older; his hair has grown a little, almost brushing his shoulders now, and his jaw seems sharper than it had before. His bare arms, they seem stronger, a little more toned. Maybe it’s from all the lifting they’ve been doing at work, from all those boxes that need to be pulled from the back to the front of the shop. Reki isn’t sure why he’s noticing all of this now, noticing the curve of Langa’s nose, the scabs by his ear, the squareness of his shoulders. Reki isn’t sure why he’s noticing any of this, things that have always been there. But these observations weight heavy on Reki’s chest. They weight heavy, but he doesn’t dare say anything. He can’t break the silence, not now.

Langa’s shoulder brushes against Reki’s, drawing his attention to something other than Langa’s build. It brings him to his eyes, always bluer than the ocean on the horizon, to his nose, pointing ahead, to his lips, tugged into a smile. Then, words spill, always in that velvety voice of his.

“Look up.”

And Reki complies; he always does.

It’s there, beautiful as ever. The sun sets, slow and careful. It’s gentle as it finds its way into the water, reds and oranges and purples swirling in the waves that crash over one another. The rays are tentative, as if afraid to break something that’s new yet has always been there. The sun does as it always has; it doesn’t change and it never will, but today, it feels different. It seems slower as it falls, almost as if it were asking for the ocean’s permission, asking the water to catch it. Will the ocean catch the sun? Will it hold on to every ray, cherish the warmth they provide? Reki hopes it will; he hasn’t known a better pair than bright sunshine and gentle waters. 

The ocean is gentle as the waves intertwine with the rays of sunshine. And as Langa looks back at Reki, that smile so soft as his pinkie locks with Reki’s, Reki knows he’ll be caught. He knows this is right; nothing has been broken, not now, not ever. This is the way they were meant to find each other. This is the way the universe had set them up: strangers, friends, this. This is what Reki has always dreamed of; this is what he wants; this is what he needs.

“C’mon,” a little tug from Langa, his fingers shifting to find their home between Reki’s, “we should hurry before the twins order the entire store to go.”

---

2 - He Is in Love

The morning is quiet, rays of sunlight filtered through the crack to the curtains. Still, the room is dark, and it’s colder than what Reki is used to. He has to pull the blanket up to his neck rather than have it bunched up at his ankles like he’s used to. And when he rolls over, he knows why.

The bed isn’t his. The room either, even if bits of him hang on the walls and sit on the shelves. He finds pieces of himself in the space between these four walls, but it’s still not his space, at least not completely his. It’s Langa’s room, so much is obvious as he sits up in the otherwise empty bed. It’s not crowded enough to be his own; the same could be said about the air that hangs in the apartment, nothing but distant chatter ringing in Reki’s ears. It’s missing the chaos of his house, the screaming and the tumbling of siblings first thing in the morning.

It’s almost strange walking through the small apartment. Reki knows the place like the back of his hand, but it’s still so disorienting to wake up in someone else’s bed, even if it’s far from the first time it has happened. It’s like walking through the streets of a new city; it’s so similar to home, and yet, it’s nothing like it. But when he finally steps into the kitchen, when he’s hit with that smell of smoke and the sound of curses, Reki knows he’s home. He’s home, and he doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

It’s funny to see Langa like this, picking at the toaster. Langa, who’s usually so calm and composed, he’s so far from that perfect image Reki had once had of him. Now, in the morning light of reality, Langa’s just like any other dork who can’t cook to save his life. He’s ridiculous as he curses at the toast, if it can even be called that. It’s so burnt, so scorched, that Reki wonders if there’s any bread left under that crust of char.

One thing’s for certain: he could not be paid enough to eat that monstrosity.

“Stop laughing!”

Blue eyes are wide, staring at Reki as he doubles down laughing. How can he not laugh? How can he stay serious at the face Langa is making at him? How can he ever stop laughing when he’s with Langa, the same Langa so many people misinterpreted? How can Reki ever keep his laughter to himself when he gets this Langa, Langa who isn’t a prince, Langa who isn’t distant and mysterious? How is he to not laugh and grin when he has Langa, his Langa, goofy and dorky and adorable?

“How did you manage to burn your toast in a toaster, dude?”

The bubbling laughter slowly dies down, falling to a giggle, then a chuckle, before ending in a simply grin. It’s hard to stop smiling around Langa, but thankfully, he doesn’t ask Reki to wipe the look off his face. If anything, he joins him despite biting his lip, trying his best to conceal the sheepish smile.

“I… I forgot it.”

“Did’ya space out again?”

Langa huffs, pushing the toast filled plate across the counter. It’s so strange seeing all these emotions play on Langa’s face, emotions Reki didn’t even know him capable of. They play like a movie on Langa’s face, jumping from one scene to another. Frustration, embarrassment, dejection, and something new, something strange as he gets closer to Reki.

There’s a glisten in his eyes, bluer than Reki’s ever seen them. They almost sparkle under the soft lighting of the kitchen. That look, it’s so far from that night, the one Reki wakes up gasping from. They’re so far from that night, the night Reki thought he had lost it all. Now, they have it all. Everything that had haunted Reki for weeks, it has vanished. That night, it was a lifetime ago, an age Reki barely remembers anymore. All that matters is here, it’s now.

“You look cute in that.”

It’s a surprise, the arms around Reki’s waist and the compliment to his ear. It’s not something he’s used to, especially not from Langa. Sure, he’s always been forward, but still, Reki isn’t used to this type of forward. He’s not quite used to the hugs, the flirting, the sappiness. He may get a Langa very few know of, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still retain the old Langa, the public Langa, the Langa that feels so unobtainable.

“Hope you like it, it’s literally your shirt.”

The chuckle is cute as Langa drops his head onto Reki’s shoulder. So, he’s given up on trying to cook; maybe they can go out for breakfast, or better yet, they can order something in. And maybe they should get something for Nanako; she shouldn’t be out for too long, not on a Sunday. But while she’s gone, well…

It’s sweet, the taste of Langa’s lips against Reki’s. Really, there isn’t much that can compare to this, to the way Langa smiles into the kisses, almost laughing into them. And with every kiss, Reki feels the butterflies erupt from their cocoons; he feels the flutter in his lungs and chest. Kisses from Langa wasn’t something Reki had ever expected, but now, he doesn’t think he can go without them.

One leads to another and another after that. They’re dizzying, leaving him lightheaded as he wraps his arms around Langa’s neck to steady himself. The world spins, fades, and leaves nothing but Langa and his sweetness. Maybe it’s the honey on his lips, or the chocolate on his tongue, but Reki’s pretty sure it’s just Langa. That’s just what Langa tastes like; sweet and addictive.

“Reki…”

His voice is low, raspy almost. Maybe he’s also breathless from the kisses, a little too caught up in the moment. Or maybe that’s just the way Langa sounds after he’s been kissed senseless; Reki isn’t proud to admit it, but stopping was a little more difficult than he had anticipated. But when Langa drops his head back into the crook of Reki’s neck, the world returns, colors other than blue reappearing around him.

“Reki, you’re my best friend, you know that, right?”

Such a statement is nothing new to Reki, but hearing it now of all times, it does something to him. He isn’t sure what it is, but he feels the pang in his chest. It’s nothing like the butterflies he had felt. It’s nothing like that. This pang, it means something else. He doesn’t feel lighter from the words, but at the same time, it’s lifts something that he hadn’t known was weighing him down.

This feeling, this reminder, it means everything to Reki. It’s everything to Reki because it means that every ghost that had once haunted him, that every insecurity that had locked into his closet, they fade. They fade because they mean nothing now. No fear can be greater than this statement. Nothing can be greater than knowing that he’s not alone. Because now, from now until the end of forever, Langa will be there. Langa will stand by him, never leaving him to face his demons alone.

The hug is automatic. There is no other possible response to the statement. There’s nothing else he can do besides holding Langa close to his chest, keep him where he wants him. A hug and a nod are all Reki can manage, and it’s enough. It’s enough for Langa to know it too. It’s enough.

---

3 - True Love

The skatepark is empty besides the two boards left unattended by a rail. There’s not a soul other than the two boys, legs dangling off the back of the ramp, a water bottle to their left and a carton of fries between them. They’re silent, each scrolling on their phone as they pick absent-mindedly at their food. Another Friday afternoon, just like so many others.

Or at least, it should be like every other Friday. There’s nothing different, at least, not on the surface. They’re in their spot, far from the rest of the world. It’s just them, as always, but there’s something weighing down on Reki. There’s something that lingers in the air, something that’s been choking him up all day. It’s there, he knows it, he just doesn’t know how to address it. Talking about things that aren’t skating, it’s not easy, not for Reki.

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he swipes through his camera roll. Every one of them holds a memory, usually one that has to do with Langa. There’s a selfie, or two, or three, or twelve. There’s a video of Langa skating, or, once again, twelve. And there are pictures of the sunset, of a stray cat, of birds in the sky, yet they still remind him of Langa. He can hear Langa through the pictures, hear his laughter, hear his chatter, hear his breathing. Because Langa is in every one of these pictures, whether he’s visible or not. He’s in every single picture, in every memory Reki holds of the past year or so. Langa, Reki realizes, has become a staple of his life, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Especially not when Langa’s head is dropping onto his shoulder, blue eyes pointed up at him.

“Whatcha looking at?”

“Just going through my pictures, see what I can delete.”

Reki knows he won’t be deleting anything; he doesn’t want to forget any of his moments with Langa. He wants to keep building these moments, not get rid of them. But saying that out loud, who knows what kind of waterfall of words would spill from his mouth afterwards. And he can’t risk that. Not before he’s figured out exactly how he wants to say it. These words, he can’t mess them up. They need to be perfect. So, until then, they will be silent.

The evening goes by as it always does: a few tricks here and there, a lot of laughing, a few scraped knees and palms. It’s another Friday evening, just like so many others. It’s another Friday evening, until they head home, still in silence.

“Reki, is everything alright?”

Reki hums as he readjusts his bag on his shoulders.

“You just…” Langa pauses, stopping under a streetlamp. “You haven’t talked much today. So… is everything alright?”  

Reki wants nothing more than to wipe away the worry that coats the blue of Langa’s eyes. He wants nothing more than to replace it with their usual shine, the one paired with the brightest grin Reki’s ever known. He wants nothing more than Langa’s happiness; if he could go another lifetime without ever having to worry, that would be how Reki would want it. He wants to remember Langa’s smile, memorize the curve of his lips and the creases at the corner of his eyes. None of that worrying that pulls his features in all the wrong ways.

“Don’t worry, dude. Everything’s perfect. Just been a long day, y’know?”

Langa nods, but he shows no sign of continuing his way down the road. He nods, but he expects more. He wants Reki to talk, to release whatever it is he’s holding in his heart. He wants Reki to talk, to spill, to let it all out. And even if it’s ugly, Reki knows Langa will take it. Even if it’s far from perfect, Reki knows Langa will smile, grin even, as he drinks Reki’s every syllable.

“Well, I mean…”

They hear it in the silence, the wait of Reki’s unspoken words. The silent words, they hang heavy in the air. And the more Langa stares, the more Langa waits with that beautiful look upon his face, the more Reki hesitates to say it. It won’t break them, far from that, but being the first to vocalize it, being the first to put it out there, it’s scary. It could ignite a fire, a flame that could leave a trail of beauty for Reki to memorize on Langa’s face and body, but it might also be a flame that burns the whole thing down. If he does this wrong, who knows what the future will look like for them.

Perhaps it would have been better if Reki had been a better liar, better at concealing the feelings fluttering in his heart. If he had been able to pretend there was nothing there, or pretend he didn’t expect the words to come to him first before parroting them back, maybe he wouldn’t have found himself in this situation. But if he had been better at conceal his feelings, at keeping them close to his chest rather than out for the world to see, then maybe he wouldn’t have found himself under the brightest moon, standing in front of the prettiest boy he’d ever seen. If he had been different, then maybe he wouldn’t be here today. He wouldn’t be standing in front of a boy whose eyes are filled with beauty and adoration, lacing their fingers together.

“I guess I just wanted to say…”

It’s now, or it’s never, Reki knows that. He’s started. He can’t stop.

“I’ve actually been thinking so much about this lately. Like, I can’t sleep from how much I think about it. So, like…”

Langa stares in anticipation, his shoulders caving inwards as his fingers tighten around Reki’s. He’s biting back a smile, Reki knows this. Maybe Langa’s just as bad at this as he is.

“Langa.”

He’s shaking. Or maybe it’s Langa who’s shaking. Or maybe they’re both shaking. Reki can’t tell. He doesn’t care.

“Langa, I love you.”

#in celebration of 1989 (TV) coming out #I literally just pumped this shit out while listening to You Are in Love because it was just rattling in my brain the entire time #had to get it out #Also look at that!!! I wrote some Renga!!!!! #ok tagging time it's been a hit minute #kyan reki #reki #reki kyan #sk8 reki #langa #langa hasegawa #sk8 langa #hasegawa langa #renga #snowgear #sk8 #sk8 the infinity #lils writes

[hearts401]

wait I forgor that the reason I was in your ask box was bc I wanted to say that your art is rlly cool and reminded me why I liked fnaf in the first place!! :]

(Also if you don't mind id love to hear some headcanons you have for the aftons ehe)

DSJDSFKJD TYYY OUHFUH Thats so sweet omg :(((

OOH BOY HEADCANONS FOR THE AFTONS (Not gonna include mrs.afton aside from vague mentions simply bc i dont care about the implied existence of a wife for william lmaoo)

Elizabeth

-8 years old

-audhd

-I am an intense ginger hair lizzie truther. SHE IS NOT BLONDE!!!! I REFUSE!!!

-She looooves circuses and would dress herself and her friends up as clowns a lot. her love for makeup sparked it and then it went on from there

-music stims galore!! humming, patting her legs, bouncing to the sound of music

-likes first person shooters!! not an a "cute girl likes edgy games" way but in the way that she genuinely enjoys them! shed rlly love shooting games. shed also likes games liek stardew and animal crossing bc shed like getting to know the villagers. (ik these games dont fit the timeline of the 80's but whatever idc) she'd like those gun games at amusement parks too

-lots of energy!!! you cannot stop her!!!!!

-her fav ice cream is mint chocolate chip

-shes not close with her brothers, much closer with her father. because of her fathers distance, however, this results in her feeling lonely a lot, but shes not willing to get involved in whatever her brothers are doing

-LOVES SPRING!!! LOVES IT!!! ITS HER FAVORITE!!!

-really likes animals and especially colorful birds. she has a collection of many things, one of them being colorful and pretty feathers (she has a peacock feather and its her pride)

-really likes bunnies just like her dad!

-likes to braid hair and do makeup. she used to do it with michael whenever he let her. him cutting that off kinda fucked their relationshipt. (and ofc then came the bite)

-She has a very orange room. orange red and pink r her favorite colors.

-thinks her eyes are super pretty

-if she's curious about an item, she'll sniff it and inspect it and feel it but not put it in her mouth bc thats gross ><

-sleeps on her side like a normal person

-likes dolls n stuff :333

Evan

-10 years old

-anxiety and autism

-very good at sewing (bc michael would break his plushies a lot)

-never let lizzie do his makeup bc it overstimulated him

-anxious stims. hand shakes, biting his nails, wringing his hands, shifting side to side, ect.

-enjoys crocheting but almost never has yarn. lizzie gave him an unused yarn ball once and he used it to make a bunch of stuff

-very picky eater, but he wont say it out loud.

-likes webkinz

-HATES HORROR MOVIES!! like this is a given but he will stay up all night thinking about it. its the one thing he stands up for himself on is not being forced to wathc horror movies (mostly because its the only thing both william and lizzie will back him up on)

-he likes yellow a lot. his room isnt hyellow but he wishes it was.

-doesn't have friends and is regarded as weird, but kids avoid him for the most part. most of his bullying comes from ppl who know michael.

-hed like racing games a lot

-scared of his dad and by association he was scared of henry too

-not super close with charlie but he knows her to be a good person. wishes he was closer with her

-ofc easily startled, freaked out, and made uncomfortable

-does NOT like being talked over

-gets frustrated rlly easily and often rants to his fredbear plush

-liked to draw!! he picked it up from mike when he was younger and continues to do it as an outlet

-wishes he had a bigger family

-definitely not flexible at all, but doesnt hurt himself much (hes not dumb, he learns what makes his bones break)

-will feel things over if hes curious about them. maybe sniff them too but he gets scared they'll kill him 😭

-dislikes amusement parks bc overstim but does enjoy the games and prizes

-he likes rice. idk. he just likes rice a lot.

-if he grew up, hed be taller than mike AND lizzie idc idc

-he tries his best to smile in family photos but he just looks so goddamn uncomfortable that eventually william just let him sit them out.

-definitely a peacemaker between lizzie amd mike

-if hes thinking hard he looks PISSED. RESTING BITCH FACE. He is GLARING AT HIS PLATE. "Evan? What's wrong?" and he just immediately is like 😠😯🙁

-he cares about michael a lot more than he should. he tells him to stop when hes fighting someone, he tries to calm him down when hes angry, he tries to talk to him. it makes him so frustrated, it makes him so mad when michael refuses him rudely, but he keeps doing it. its who he is.

-he got a golden freddy mask that creeped michael out and he jumpscared him with it once.

-cuts his own hair

-not a hugger but if EITHER of his siblings offer a hug he will NOT deny them (does not apply to william tho)

-i dont think he cared about william tbh lol

-sleeps on his back like a corpse.

Michael

-14

-audhd

-nonbinary he/they but doesnt realize it til hes 18

-gets mad when overstimulated

-Likes pirates a lot, watches lots of pirate shows.

-INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA it kicked in in like 2nd grade when someone made fun of him for letting lizzie do his makeup. (jeremy helps him get over it)

-forgets to eat a lot. not intentionally. hes just dumb.

-argues with his dad the most, and drives william nuts

-if hes curious about something, hes gonna bite it. what is it? idk. CHOMP

-loves skirts bc sensory issues are worse in his ankles. he compromises by wearing basketball shorts.

-canNOT wear things near his neck. hates things near his neck.

-close-ish with charlie. likes talking to her.

-favorite color is red. he puts it everywhere.

-likes pokemon.

-watches anime

-BIG HORROR FAN BUT THAT SHIT KEEPS HIM UP AT NIIIIGHT

-halloween is his fav holiday. ud think its bc he liked scaring evan (and it kinda is) but mostly he jsut likes dressing up and going trick or treating. he'll use his costume to scare evan later tho. william takes them away because of that, just bc he doesnt want michael ruining the costume (they reuse them sometimes)

-likes growing his hair out

-looks very soft when thinking. evan only talks to him when he looks calm and collected.

-stims by humming, tapping, slamming his fists, and making loud sounds (shouting, whining, UGH AAAGH ect.) which tend to overstimulate evan

-him and evan are adhd vs autism but if the adhd also had autism

-scared of the ocean but he'll never admit it (got bit by some small fish once and it freaked him out)

-mouth moves faster than his brain

-NOT A MORNING PERSON (except on halloween) DO NOT TALK TO HIM IN THE MORNING!!! HE BITES!!!

-messy room with very little in it.

-punches holes in his walls as a stim :(

-likes sweaters in fall

-for someone who jumpscares his little brother, he gets jumpscared easily

-giggles a lot during hide and seek but thru hiding from evan he learned how to stop it. if he does giggle it means hes genuinely happy

-faints when SUPER freaked out. but it takes a lot

-probably gets queasy around blood

-lactose intolerant but he'll be damned if he doesnt eat that mac n cheese

-has SO MUCH FOXY MERCH. he convinces his dad to give him EVERYTHING HE LOVES FOXY SO MUCH

-would do awesome in school if he could get himself to try

-probably felt rlly hurt when he heard foxy was confined to a small area and not onstage. not because it mattered to him, but because the way william looks at foxy makes him think of the way he looks at him.

-gators r his second fav animal

-draws as a way of venting, but it rarely works. he likes it tho

-SINGS ALL THE TIME. WALKS INTO THE HOUSE DANCING AND SINGING AND TAPPING THINGS

-moves in his sleep

-TIGHT HUGS.

-AFFECTIONATE SHOULDER PUNCH GO!!!

-AGGRESSIVE SHOULDER PUNCH GO!!!

-NEUTRAL "I'm uncomfortable and idk what to do rn" SHOULDER PUNCH GO!!!

-giggles evilly

-like evan hes not very flexible but hes much more likely to hurt himsel fand sprains his ankles a lot

William

-Do not misspell his last name he will get unbelievably pissed

-probably nd too bc all his kids are but he doesnt gaf abt that 😭

-has kissed a man before as an experiment. did not get anything from it unfortunately

-met henry in college for robotics and became friends

-when his wife left/died he was just like "oh. i have three kids now. fuck." and then avoided them

-doesnt care about his kids but them dying causes problems for him so he tries his best to keep them alive (unsuccessfully. this is the afton family after all)

-just like mike, he sings and taps a lot, but its more humming and tapping.

-also lactose intolerant but he actually cares about it

-likes bunnies a lot.

-allergic to pollen. severely. he walks outside in spring and is already sneezing and rubbing his eyes

-Frustrated easily

-Looks pissed when hes not, looks pissed when he is. looks pissed when hes sad. looks pissed when hes thinking. the only time he doesnt looks pissed is when he looks happy and that is very rare (and never happens around his kids, only henry)

-TIGHT HUGS.

-Buys his kids gifts but its always stuff they either dont like anymore or didnt like int he first place. he doesnt care

-secretly likes thanksgiving a lot. hes a foodie what can i say

-lizzie is his favorite but that only means he is occasionally gentle with her in a way he'll never be with his sons

-likes dressing up fancy but als freaky he just likes dressing up

-poses in the mirror to check his outfit. michael walked in on him once and william has never yelled at him so muhc in his life. michael acted upset but he was giggling to himself

-does not and will never care about whatever michael and evan have goin on. he does NOT have time for them.

-drops and breaks his phone ALL THE TIME.

-likes stress balls a lot.

-springbonnie is his BABY. he LOVES HER.

-grabs his kids by their heads a lot. like if michael is in his way he'll just put a hand on his head and move him off to the side. the only one he cant do it to is evan because he just moves out of the way

-has a bunch of tiny robots of his own. he likes to make silly bunny robots taht r tiny

-thinks hes smooth wiht flirting and could grab a girl (he cant henry knows he cant)

-sticks his tongue out like a cartoon character when hes thinking SUPER hard

-pats michael on the back a lot to lighten a tense situation but it just makes michael tense up and makes it worse

-giggles evilly

-used to be queasy with blood and spent an hour in front of a mirror post-killing charlie telling himself to man up and somehow that worked

-not a hugger. only hugs his kids in public to lighten the mood. except mike. mike u get awkward back pats

-doesnt like being touched (he WILL smack your hand)

I THINK THATS ALL LMAOOO I HAVE SO MANY

#these are #super specific #sorry #whoops #super long post 😭 #tzu asks #the afton family #headcanons #tzu rambles #afton family hcs

[baby-germany]

meeting Zoro and his old friends (3/3)

“Aw, come on,” I pleaded. “Don’t you have a heart?” The bartender looked me dead in the eye and shook his head. “Sorry, y/n, but it’s too risky for me to bring you your customers,” he announced and proceeded to wash the glass in his hand. “But if you’re not going to help me, no one will.” I complained. After I ran away from the last city three years ago, I’ve been on quite a ride. I even managed to enter the Grand Line. But life here was far from easy. Originally, I had planned to quit my “job” as a thief and start all over again, but strangely enough, no one was willing to take me in. So I had nothing left to do but to start stealing from others. The bartender was the man who brought me my customers, and I stole what they wanted. But now he’s telling me I can’t do that anymore because it’s too risky?! I call bullshit. 

“Y/n,” he said. “Life is hard, and with you, it’s even harder. You mean trouble, and I just want to live my life in peace.” He explained again, but I just huffed and grumbled, asking, “Can I have at least a drink for free?” The bartender looked at me for a few seconds, then rolled his eyes and said, “Yeah, why not?” It wasn’t much, but a free drink was better than nothing.

Suddenly, the door to the bar was pushed open wildly and loudly. “Meat!” A young man, a bit younger than me, spoke, and it almost looked like he had stars in his eyes. He wore a pair of sandals and blue pants that reached to his knees. He also wore a red sleeveless blouse and a straw hat with a red stripe. Beside him stood a woman with a short skirt and t-shirt. She had orange hair and looked a bit annoyed by the man next to her. On his other side stood an animal, shyly. Maybe it was a raccoon dog or something like that. It wore a big red hat and a blue backpack. 

“Hey, old man!” the young man shouted across the room. “Do you have meat?” I glanced at the bartender, who appeared somewhat shocked. “What’s the matter?” I whispered to him. Perhaps showing kindness would encourage him to help me again. “Ever heard of the Straw Hat pirate crew?” I shook my head slightly. Living day to day, I hadn’t found time to read newspapers or keep up with such things. “There are pirates. This man is the captain. He has a bounty of 100 berries on his head.” “One hundred?” I whispered, almost screaming. Maybe I should become a pirate hunter; that would be more lucrative than stealing. “Hey!” the man bellowed, closing the distance between us. “Answer me!” he demanded, pointing at his face. “O-of course, we have meat. Lots of meat” the old man confirmed. Happily, the man sat down a couple of seats away from me and surveyed the room. “Luffy, remember, we have to buy other supplies too!” the woman warned him. So his name is Luffy. Good to know. “I never thought I’d meet such famous people here.” I said, gazing into my glass. Curious, the three turned their attention toward me. “The Straw Hats are pretty famous, huh?” I looked at Luffy with a slight smile, hoping to strike up a conversation. “Who are you?” he asked, tilting his head. His large eyes bore into mine. “I? Well, that’s a secret.” I winked at him and chuckled as he appeared unimpressed. 

He might be around my age, but he reminds me more of a child. "Y/n, don’t you just sit around, go make yourself useful!" the bartender said from the kitchen. I rolled my eyes. He just told them my ‘secret,’ but I guess that’s fine. ‘Why?’ I asked instead. ‘Because if you help, I might bring you fresh customers.’ I sighed dramatically and stood up to walk behind the bar. ‘So?’ I said. ‘Anything else, or just meat?’ ‘Meat’ the man replied, but the woman beside him raised her voice. ‘Maybe a cup of water or something. This island is too hot for Chopper; I don’t want him to dehydrate.’ I looked to the raccoon dog who seemed to be nodding. ‘Yes, water would be nice,’ he said quietly, and I almost lost my cool. It can talk!! What kind of creature was that?! But instead of completely losing it, I just smiled and poured him a cup of water. ‘Here ya go.’ Now, the bartender came in with a plate of fine-looking meat. ‘How come I never get to eat something so fine-looking?’ I asked the old man. Whenever I ordered something from him, it always looked rotten. Luffy laughed and said proudly, ‘This is nothing against my cook!’ ‘A cook?’ Slowly I raised my eyebrow. ‘Yeah, Sanji is the best cook ever.’ He said while raising his fist in the air. The woman beside him smiled a bit and seemed to agree with him. ‘Well, I don’t doubt you.’ I laughed as well. Somehow, this man had a charm that made me like him and feel at ease. ‘I have the best crew ever!’ the man announced. ‘I have a cook, a swordsman, and a navigator.’ He looked at the woman beside him. ‘A liar, an archaeologist, and a monster!’ He grinned at me, but not for long, because his navigator punched him against the back of his head. She looked mad and said in a stern tone, ‘Chopper is not a monster; he is our doctor, you idiot!’ ‘You’re the doctor?’ I asked and looked at Chopper a bit closer. He didn’t seem to like all this attention, but he still nodded. ‘Yes’ he timidly answered.

“Wow, it must be cool to be such a cute doctor and a so famous pirate crew!” I cheered. “Stop it, you idiot!” Chopper screamed suddenly, but his cheeks were tomato red, and he smiled from one ear to the other. “Hearing that doesn’t make me happy!” And slowly, he sat down on the chair beside Luffy and looked at me, with little stars in his eyes, obviously waiting for me to make him another compliment. “You must be pretty smart to be a doctor” I said with a smile on my lips. “I said stop it!” he chuckled and tried to hide under his hat. Luffy laughed loudly and said amused, “Typical Chopper!” Again, the door of the bar opened, and a man in a black coat and a black hat went inside. I knew who it was. This man was Haruot. A man who I stole from. But it was really worth the money. “There you are, Y/N” he said with a bitter grin. “I was looking for you everywhere. You see, I don’t appreciate it when someone uses me to get what they want!” At the end, he nearly screamed, but I was unfazed. After leaving the three strange men, I came to love so much, I trained by myself. They pretty much inspired me to become stronger, especially Zoro. “About that,” I said. “Sorry.” I wasn’t really sorry, but maybe we could still talk things out. “Y/N, I liked you. Really, I did. But seeing you just gives me the urge to pull the trigger.” Fast as lightning, he pulled out his gun from underneath his coat and aimed at me. “Goodbye, bad girl!” he said with a gleeful grin and then pulled the trigger. But Luffy just stretched his arm… And something strange happened. His arm caught the bullet and fired it back at Haruto. It was too fast for me to clearly see what happened, but from my perspective, it looked almost like his arm was made out of rubber. I hadn’t had time to think more about it because I ran towards Haruto and landed a good punch right between his eyes. His bones made a strange sound, and then he passed out on the floor. “AWESOME!” Luffy cheered as I looked back at them. “Is your arm alright?”

“Huh?” Luffy looked at me, wondering, then nodded and said, “Yeah, I’m alright. I’m a rubber man.” He stretched his cheek to show me. “See?” he asked. “Luffy ate a devil fruit" the navigator explained. “You were so cool, Y/N!” Chopper said truthfully, and I smiled at the little baby. “Thanks, but in comparison to my old friend, I’m nothing!” “Wow, he must be so cool” Chopper said. “I bet he got even stronger than he was when I last saw him” I said proudly. Of course, I was talking about Zoro. “Nami?” Luffy said. “Something’s wrong?” “Hm?” the woman called Nami looked at him. “No, I’m fine,” she sighed. “But what was that about?” she asked me. “Well, I might have stolen some things from him and made him angry,” I said truthfully. “You’re a thief?” Chopper said. “Ah, well. Yes, but I’m a kind one.” “A thief…” Luffy thought aloud. “Nami! She’s just like you!” “No, she’s not!” “Nami’s right, Luffy. Y/N is a bit stronger but surely has no clue with navigating.” Luffy looked at me for a long time, and I started to overthink things. Why wasn’t he even blinking?! “Join my crew,” he then bluntly announced, and my chin literally dropped to the floor. “W-what?” I asked. “Join my crew. You’re cool.” I thought for a while, but not really that long. Shortly, I agreed.

After Luffy finished his meal, we strolled through the town. They needed to buy some supplies before returning to the ship, so I played tour guide. Once we reached the Going Merry, Luffy’s excitement echoed across the deck: “HEEY! We’re back! Sanji, I want to eat!” But my attention shifted to a man emerging from the upper room. His heart-shaped eyes locked onto me, and he exhaled smoke from his cigarette. Blond hair, a quirky eyebrow curl, and a fine suit—quite the ensemble. “Who are you?” he asked, surprisingly not suspicious. Instead, he bombarded me with questions and compliments. “Want to eat, beautiful? I can cook anything you desire.” His wink was cut short by Nami’s punch. “Stop overwhelming her!” she scolded. Luffy protested, “Nami, no! Now he can’t make me food!” Amidst the chaos, another man appeared. Tan-skinned, curly-haired, and sporting a long nose, he introduced himself as Usopp. He wold me that he was the greatest pirate on the seas, commanding 800 warriors! Quite the entertainer, that Usopp!

Lastly, a woman appeared. She had black, long hair and shining blue eyes. Her skin was a bit tanned, and she wore a white blouse with purplish jeans. She introduced herself as Nico Robin, and I had the feeling that I’d heard that name before. I talked a bit with the crew to get to know them better. I wasn’t planning on staying forever, but if I had the opportunity to meet new people who would carry me along with them for free, I might as well get to know them better. I never left the upper deck of the ship; I could look around for another day. The sun shone too nicely to go inside and waste the day. And soon, it got a bit darker. The crew met up in one room—the room Sanji came out of when he was screaming, ‘NAMI-SWAANN!’ He was excited to see her after she went shopping. We sat at the table, and Luffy was right. Sanji really cooked well. I told him so, and he immediately seemed to melt away. Suddenly, the door was pushed open, and a grumpy, deep voice said, ‘Why the hell were you so loud today? How am I supposed to sleep when you’re louder than howler monkeys?’ I nearly let go of the fork with food on it as I looked at the man who had spoken.

“Zoro,” I almost whispered. I never thought I would see him again, and even if I had, I would have never expected him to look so good. His hair was still the same green, and he still wore the same style, but his skin was a bit more tanned, and his muscles were definitely bigger than last time. He looked at me for a second, then his eyes widened, and he slammed the door shut. “Stupid moss head,” Sanji grumbled. “He has no clue how to behave around women.” I didn’t listen to him and ran after Zoro. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe I just wanted to talk with him. “Zoro, hold up!” I said as I followed him below deck. He didn’t look back or wait for me. He simply walked in a hurry towards the text room. “Hey!” I said and followed him." You do remember who I am, right?” “Yeah!” he said, and his voice sounded unstable, like he was trying to suppress his feelings and failing. “Then why do you run away from me?” “I don’t.” “Stop!” I said loudly, and finally, he stopped. “Why do I run away?” he repeated. “Why did you ran away?” It took me a few seconds until I realized what he meant. “I was in trouble and had to run away” I calmly explained. “And there wasn’t time to tell us? To tell me?” I shook my head. “No.” Zoro turned around to finally look at me. “Is that the truth?” “Yes.” He looked hurt. His grumpy face seemed to be just fine, but his eyes—his eyes told me he just wanted to cry. “Should I rather go upstairs and… eat?” I asked him. “No,” he shook his head fast. “Stay.” And I stayed. Not only for the night but for the rest of my life. I stayed by his side and couldn’t have been happier.

#one piece #roronoa zoro #one piece x reader #monkey d. luffy #one piece nami #sanji #tony tony chopper #one piece chopper #Usopp #Nico Robin #going marry

[ryejifics]

Pumpkin patch

Type: fluff

Chaeryeong x reader

"Let's go! Let's go!" Your hyper girlfriend exclaimed as she pulled on your arm. "Please!" She ran to the car with your hand in hers. Chaeryeong loved this time of year. The cold breeze, pumpkin spice lattes, scary movies, and especially the pumpkin patch. She was extremely excited to go pick out a pumpkin and to carve it into a jack o lantern. Her idea for this year was to carve a cat. It reminded her of her best friend, Yeji.

You got into the driver's seat of the car as she jumped around in the seat. You gave her access to the music, and off you went. As you drove along the highway, she was singing along to TT by Twice. One of her classic Halloween favorites. Next was Bite Me by Enhypen, and the last song on the road was Scream by Dreamcatcher. You couldn't help but sneak pictures of your adorable girlfriend while she was singing and dancing. She was just too cute.

You parked quickly, and once you got out, you took her hand in yours. How did you get so lucky? She skipped and swung your hands all the way to the ticket line. You knew she would want to go to the petting zoo, so you made sure to buy tickets for the feeding. Once you walked in, there was so much to go. Mostly activities for kids, but there was a cool zip line and a train that took you around the patch.

First, you waited for the wagon to take you to the patch, which was pretty far. Once you got on, you looked around to see if any pumpkins caught your eye. There were so many shapes, sizes, and colors. You got off, and next thing you knew, you lost your girlfriend. You saw her bright red hair from afar and walked up to her. She settled for a tiny white pumpkin and a big orange one. You looked around for a while before finding the perfectly round orange pumpkin you wanted. You both got back onto the train, and the next activity was the petting zoo. Chaeryeong ran up to the animals and went straight to petting. You took pictures as she tried to convince you into getting a pet duck. She loved those little guys, and you had trouble saying no to her puppy dog eyes. Once you were done, you went to get some food. She got some nachos, and you two shared. Today couldn't have been any more perfect. On the car ride home, she smiled from ear to ear. You parked and went inside your shared home.

"Can we carve them now? Please, please, please!" She pouted at you and shook you gently. "Yes, love, we can!" You grabbed the pumpkin carving kit and got to work. You took the pumpkin guts out of yours and out of hers. You saved the pumpkin seeds for later to roast them. She started to carve her cat, and you decided to carve a scary bat. As you carved them, you watched the scary movie playing in the background. Chaeryeong kept saying thank you for the best day she's ever had. You couldn't wait to spend many more years to come with her and to go with her to the pumpkin patch again next year.

You two finished your pumpkins and then were off to cuddle on the couch. You wore your matching pjs with her and eventually fell asleep. Her head on your chest and your arms wrapped tightly around her. She was everything you ever hoped and dreamed for. Halloween was going to be perfect as long as you had her.

[eggyslang]

Redesigns of the new strawberry shortcake reboot :]

Design notes under the cut:

Strawberry shortcake: I gave her short hair so the silhouette of her head with the beanie looks more strawberry shaped. Also, something about her new look gives me a skater vibe [maybe it’s the beanie? Idk] so I wanted to lean into that with the rest of the outfit. I gave her a graphic tee over a stripy shirt [the green and white stripes call back to some of her past looks], baggy jeans [calling back to her 2003 look], and sneakers that look like red converse [kept from her current look]. I gave her a cute apron with a heart shaped strawberry on it to make her look more like a baker and to give a bit of a 2000’s skirt-over-pants type of silhouette that I think is fun. Also, I’d like to think that her grandma made it for her :]. I put in a lot of hearts in her design because hearts are kinda strawberry shaped and also she seems like a loving, friendship oriented person, so I felt hearts would fit her personality

Blueberry muffin: I wanted to give her a look that matched her kinda weirdgirl personality in the new show. I’ve only seen an episode and a half so I don’t have too much to go off of, but she seemed kinda spiritual, for lack of a better word [loves ghosts, talks about things having “good energy,” etc.] I gave her long, layered skirts to resemble muffin liners as well as add some flowiness to her outfit. Similarly, I gave her a cropped cardigan thing with wide sleeves. I gave her mismatched socks to make her look a little more eclectic. I tried to incorporate a lot of round/circular shapes into her design to make her more blueberry-ish like her mary janes, the circle pendent on her necklace, the round shape of her bangs, her bubble braid hairstyle [idk if that’s what it’s actually called, i just thought it looked cool], and her blue sunglasses. I made her bangs a little messier so it almost seems like she cut her bangs herself.

Orange blossom: her visor is my favourite part of all of these redesigns. I stole it from one of orange cookie’s costumes from cookie run bc it’s just so nice. I put flowers on her shorts to lean into the blossom part of her name. I also gave her a little orange slice watch to incorporate more oranges into her design. I imagine it’s one of those watches that tells you your heart rate and stuff.

Lime chiffon: I’m not really happy with her design but I tried my best. I have her pigtails in the shape of semicircles to look like lime slices. I made her glasses lime shaped. To lean into her nerdy/preppy look, I gave her a sweater vest over a polo. I kept the design of her skirt to be lime-ish. I gave her blueberry’s Ugg-like boots because I wanted to add some brown into her outfit to be like the cake part of a lime chiffon cake.

Lemon meringue: shes not TOO different from her current canon design. I changed her hair to be more lemon shaped. I also thought the shape gave her a bit more of a mad scientist look. I also put some white in her hair to incorporate some meringue-ness. I put some patches on her overalls like she’s used them for a long time and they’ve gotten worn out. Also, it allowed me to add some more lemon-y elements to her outfit. I put a lightning bolt on the chest of the overalls because her voice reminds me of rainbow dash and also i think you can use lemons to make electricity[? I think I did an experiment like that in elementary school]. I made her goggles look like lemon tarts for funsies. I gave her a tool belt to incorporate more brown into the design and bc all inventors need tools handy.

#strawberry shortcake #berry in the big city #fanart #alt text #image id

[mollisangelus]

Red Is My Favorite Color

Yandere! Alpha! KiriBaku x Omega! Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

A/N: Finally both boys at once! Love this guys so much, they're so cute and just think you're so precious.

TW: None actually, except Denki and Mina's adorable kid.

♡———♡

It was a week or so later, you were helping your favorite kid get his backpack on. Miko turned and smiled at you, brightly. "My uncle's are picking me up today! I can't wait for you to meet them, they're the best!" 

You laughed gently, "Anyone who treats you well is the best, so I'm sure they're awesome!"

Before you could stand up, two scents came straight for you, and you had to stabilize yourself and your mind. It reminded you of being cozy in a cabin with snow outside. It was warm and sweet, but with freshness to it, and it had you feeling light on your feet as you stood. 

Miko whipped around, shouting, "Uncle Kiri, Uncle Kat!" You looked up, only to be frozen and eyes wide. How had you not put it together? You were so dumb for missing it, their scents were so distinct, how could you not tell they were mated? Maybe it was because it was uncommon? Especially for two male alphas… you felt bad for the backlash they must face. 

Ground Zero was the first to see you, and he gave you a grin, waving. Red Riot watched him do it, and followed his gaze to you, and you missed how his whole face lit up, only catching the dazzling smile he gave you. You approached them, as you always told Miko goodbye. 

"H-hey there.." You started nervously. 

"Hey! It's so cool to meet you again, I knew your name was familiar! Miko talks about you all the time!" Kirishima just seemed so full of energy, much like Miko. 

You just couldn't help the blush that creeped up your neck, "All good things I hope!" 

"Oh yeah, kid doesn't shut up about how 'cool' you are. I guess that means you're our competition." Bakugou added, ruffling Miko blonde hair, the black streak sticking out. 

You grinned at that, "It's cute you think it's a competition like you stand a chance. Right, Miko?" Too preoccupied with looking at Miko and getting a exploding fist bump, you ignore the way Bakugou's eyes sparkled and Kirishima grinned at him. 

"Right! You're my favorite!" You laughed at the little guy, and gave him a big bear hug. 

They watched you guys, and their hearts soared. If they weren't in love before, they definitely were now. You were so natural with him, so perfect, so kind. It seemed odd you were so natural with him, but even betas could have maternal instincts. 

During the goodbyes, they seemed to have a silent conversation and you missed it, the other kids getting ready to leave half on your mind as you waved. Although, it was an important conversation, a conversation that led to your fate being sealed. 

They all shuffled into Bakugou's jacked, green Jeep, the orange stripe along it a signature for him. Miko was the first to talk as they got buckled, "Isn't she awesome!? I told you guys!" 

They chuckled, "Yeah, she is." 

Miko sighed for a moment, "I wish she knew it too.." 

They were quiet for a while, whispering and glancing at each other. Then Kirishima spoke. 

"What do you mean, Buddy…?" 

Miko looked down and played with his hands, "You promise you won't say anything to her..?" 

Bakugou's hands tightened on the steering wheel a little bit, but Kirishima nodded, "Yeah, we can keep a secret." 

Miko shrunk back a little more, "Well.. I had snuck into the adults lounge to find her, and I heard her crying on the phone. Whoever it was wouldn't help her, and she was trying to ask for somewhere to stay. They sounded really angry with her.. I tried to be extra good that day to cheer her up! It's why I bring her cookies and stuff sometimes." 

Once again, a moment of silence, and it looked as if Bakugou was trying to crush the wheel at this point. He drove, stiff backed. Kirishima seemed kinda rigid too, but he replied, "Well that's really nice of you Buddy, we should always try to cheer people up. You're a good kid." 

Miko beamed a smile at the mirror, but after that they drove in silence. Discussions would happen that night. 

If only you'd known.

Taglist: @skylan666

#yandere bnha x reader #mha kirishima #kiribaku #kirishima x reader #kirishima x you #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou x reader #a/b/o

[thefangirlofhp]

unconditional as quartz

in which planning weddings takes a toll on the happy couple’s siblings

follow up to somewhere in these eyes

Dinner at the Night Court royals’ residence is always a merry occasion of high entertainment brought on by its different courtiers in attendance who are always bursting at the seams with interesting tales and anecdotes to share, an abundance of mischief and jokes to impart on the spectators that make for a worthwhile four hours. The food there is not half-bad, either. Some would argue the best, even.

But for Azriel, he finds they’re oftentimes an occasion to constantly hold himself in the other’s light and constantly fall short. He envies Cassian’s infinite energy and resolve to be pleasant and enthusiastically conversational for the entire time, or Mor’s wisdom in rationing her enthusiasm. Azriel struggles throughout the night on the occasion he wakes up with the wrong mood for a dinner party, and on good days he runs out of energy before the end can be called in sight. Most of his time he spends avoiding them in the first place, citing numerous tasks and paperwork to be managed or even resorting to ill health on a few rare times. But Rhys has quickly caught on to his farce, his avoidance, and promptly called him out for it the last time they held a meeting.

So here he is. Tucked in an uncomfortable dress shirt and fine jacket, trying not to look too miserable while Cassian and Feyre mess up the plans for Nesta and his upcoming nuptials, wondering if he distracts them with a shadow-bomb then he’ll have enough time to fix all their fuckery before they can notice, supporting a throbbing headache and resisting every urge he has not to sink into a corner and bury his head in the cool shade of his arms.

“Damn, maybe you really are ill,” Rhys remarks, but the faint tease in the corner of his lips reveals his farce.

His son eagerly looks up from where he is leafing through the discarded binders of sensible wedding plans put together by professional planners—the finest in all of Prythian, that Azriel has spent three months meeting and reaching out to and gathering plans from—and his violet eyes gleam excitedly. “Do you want chocolate cake, Az?”

It’s enough to tease a smile out of him. “Are you asking for my or your benefit?”

Nyx twists his mouth and turns back to the colored sketch of reasonable seating arrangements, muttering under his breath: “You’re ill, not me.”

“What’s the business with cakes?” asks Rhys, resting a hand on Nyx’s black head.

“It’s Uncle Az’s medicine for everything wrong,” replies the little lord.

“I see,” his father notes with a nod. “Remind me never to let Uncle Az nurse you to health.”

“Nooo…”

Azriel tips his head back up to the ceiling and closes his throbbing eyes. It’s as if there’s a sore, jumping, pinching and pulsating vessel in his temples making it virtually impossible to move a hair-width. He flinches with every pinch of lightening striking his temples and bites down on his molars to keep still.

“—given their individual talents, that is to say, I actually have some hope for them,” Rhys’s voice ebbs back into his head, and when Azriel opens his eyes once more, he’s watching Feyre and Cassian piece together Cassian’s dream perfect wedding with amused eyes and a tilted head.

Nesta stops to stand by Azriel when she walks in from the kitchen, her hand wrapped around a glass of orange and lemon juice. Rhys glances at her, a little smile curling his lips.

“You’re all-right letting them plan your day with no supervision?” he asks. “I thought you’d have some say in it.”

She snorts. “Won’t matter. I’ve it all picked out and ready.”

“Oh thank fuck,” Azriel breathes out. “What’s the--?”

“Red accents, fuckton of diamonds and crystals and I’m choosing white orchids,” she replies, crossing her arms over her chest. She glances at Rhys. “You’re ready to pay for that?”

“I meant it, anything your heart could dream of,” the High Lord replies calmly, his hand resting softly still on his son’s head as if it could say for this, everything and Azriel finds himself distantly staring at the touch, till his eyes sting and he blinks them even, disparaging the unwelcome thoughts of his own sire.

“You know I’ve realized now that this is our first wedding,” Azriel figures while Feyre argues the necessity of something—he truly doesn’t want to know: he stopped listening after Cassian decided a bear be the ringbearer and Feyre suggested training two doves to fly over the newly mates with a silver and red banner—that Cassian disagrees to. He turns to Rhys. “You robbed us the event of the millennia.”

His brother doesn’t look exactly remorseful. “Helion complained something along those lines,” he says around a smile. “I don’t care, really. Besides, we were waging a war. What part of a wedding was appropriate then?”

“In a sense, it would have fallen short of all expectations. On one hand I’m not grieving the fact I’ve been relieved of finding you a mating gift, but I am mourning the would-have-been-food,” Azriel muses. He turns to Nesta. “Please, if I’ll ever ask something of you—“

She smirks faintly. “I’ve got it.”

He regards her doubtfully. “Do you? Do you? So far neither you nor your sister have shown any inclination towards possessing even a morsel of a tasteful palate so you’ll forgive me if I’ve got my doubts.”

“I’ve put Elain in charge of the food, stop fucking whining,” she snaps. “Or does Elain not have taste, either?”

Azriel promptly eases his mouth shut and lets loose a relieved sigh, one Rhys snorts a laugh over.

The front door eases shut soundly, and subsequently, familiar quick footsteps flutter in haste over the floor bringing a flustered Elain into the sitting room bearing a large vertical box in her arms. Nyx perks up like a predator that has marked its prey, but everyone’s fallen quiet in complete shock at the dashing glimpse they catch of Elain as she practically runs to the kitchen, calling out her harried greetings over her shoulder, that for a moment they think it’s not Elain.

“What the flying fuck?!” Nesta exclaims in hoarse horror when she reappears, catching her breath with a grin.

“Sorry I’m late,” Elain rushes out, wiping her brow. “Nesta, I brought the prototype of your cake! I had to run back across the city for it, though, sorry to make you all wait.”

“Not at all,” Rhys smoothly reassures while the rest of them are still finding their jaws from the floor. “Mor’s running late as well, you weren’t holding us up.”

“Actually she was,” Cassian sits straight and stretches out his arms in the air as Feyre continues to gape at her sister. “I’m not waiting for fuckin’ Mor.”

“Why don’t you help the twins out with the dinner, then?” Rhys suggests and Cassian promptly holds up his hands in surrender.

“Nice haircut, petal,” Cassian comments absently, standing up. “Nes, before you say no, hear me out: yellow ducklings in a bird pond—“

“What did you do?” Nesta whispers, staring wide-eyed at Elain.

Azriel thinks it’s pretty self-explanatory: she’s cut his hair. Her hair. Hers. And his line of sense. Thought. Trail of sensible thought. Cut off intelligent life in his head. Azriel blinks roughly, as if he’s seeing a distorted version of reality.

Elain touches a hand to her hair and smiles. “It was heavy. I wanted to try having free range of motion.”

In one corner of Azriel’s scrambled mind, he thinks it’s utterly adorable how she follows it up with a shake of her head side to side. Some other republic of thought is in an uproar over the fact that there’s not much hair that moves with the motion aside from a few wavy strands of fringe. One dangerously calm part of him is drinking in the site of her, like he’s reading the complete secrets of the universe; the slope of her pointed ears always hidden but now out in all their glory; the long curve of her neck now that there’s no curtain of gloriously thick golden-brown hair hiding it; the collarbones standing out and curving to her shoulders; the sharp jaw accentuated so thoroughly now that there’s nothing shading it. Azriel cannot believe his eyes. Or blink. Or have much of a functional thought.

Had her hair dampened the glow of her face? He cannot remember. Only that her smile is blinding. The sharp slope of her cheekbones rounding up. He breathes in sharply as Elain runs her fingers through the top of her head, through the remaining length of her hair. He thinks it’s only slightly longer than Rhysand’s cut. Fuck it might be even shorter than his own.

He doesn’t think he’s ever laid eyes on a High Female who’d chopped off all her hair so cleanly and suddenly. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen one with short hair. To his understanding, there’s some degree of magic and power in it, enough to warrant sensitive handling of anyone’s hair. Mor certainly looks after her own like it is the vessel of all her strength. Cassian himself has been inclined to care for his own because of it—he reports some truth to the words, says it’s like an eighth very small siphon he can redirect a portion of his powers into when in full force.

Azriel personally has never given half a thought towards any truth in the statement, mostly because he’s so far never had reason to call forth all his power and strength enough for hair to serve as an adequate outlet, and any added length to his hair is only due to negligence.

Still, for a female. He’s well aware what hair like theirs means amongst practically every nobility of any kind; healthy thick long hair is a sign of wealth, nobility, and class. Nesta shared once it’s the reason none of them ever sold their hair off during poverty; some fool’s hope at finding fortune and their place amongst society once more.

Still. Still. The beauty of hers is blinding.

“Lain,” Nyx remarks, standing up. “I like it!”

“Do you, pretty boy?” she grins at him, hands finding her hips, sundress swishing around her shins and drawing attention to the leather strappy sandals she’s wearing. Azriel finds himself smiling stupidly at the misshapen mismatched nail polish on her toes, recalling her voice telling him how she and the children at the orphanage had done the shoddy work.

Nesta sharply breathes in. “Elain, my wedding is in a few months and you decided to chop all your hair off now!”

“Relax, it’s only hair,” she smiles. Nesta gapes, at loss for words.

“It is an …eccentric look,” Feyre slowly says, blinking several times, as if trying to find something positive to say. Suddenly the sisters don’t look so similar to Elain. It feels strange to look at Feyre’s hair, streaming freely down her back in generous waves. “I…I just never thought I’d ever see you like this. You look…”

“I don’t think it suits you,” Nesta honestly says. “You look like a lost little boy.”

“You do look even smaller than usual, petal,” Cassian remarks, approaching her and cupping his hands together. “Like a little baby bird. Adorable. Isn’t she? Now imagine adorable little ducklings at the cerem—”

“I think it looks—“ Azriel’s tongue is rolling before he or anyone else in the room has realized he’s opened his mouth. He promptly clamps it shut when Elain’s wide doe eyes meet his, round and brown and utterly consuming his soul. “Hngh.”

“What was that, Az?” Rhys slings his arm around his shoulders. “What do you think of Elain’s hair?”

His lips move without sound, shoulders giving a shrug midway, dropping down, forehead spasming horribly all of a sudden, a shudder running down his spine and a “Hngh” escaping his closed lips. He snatches Nesta’s glass, downs it down in one go, makes a face at the sour lemon and orange taste, and turns around in rapid fashion, just barely escaping Rhys’s arm and the sitting room.

___

Velaris is particularly lively on the cusp of the summer season, a few days later when Azriel and Cassian are braving the warm weather and public to reach the tailor for Cassian’s wedding clothes. Rhys promised to meet them there once he’s finished signing off on some financial statements and overlooking the transfer of large sums at the bank; Nesta had not been bluffing when she asked if Rhys was truly prepared to pay for the ceremony of her dreams.

Azriel enjoys and tolerates the hot weather by virtue of his race’s tolerance of the heat. Other fae are not so fortunate, as they seek refuge from the sun in shades and behind cooling spells, in melting scoops of ice-cream and iced drinks. There’s something about the sun rays that makes Azriel feel like he’s being nurtured the way plants are teased out of the earth.

Cassian’s walking the narrow street in-front of him, waving and nodding and smiling at familiar faces. He even stops at a crystals and gemstones vendor to talk to the merchant, an old friend, and Azriel pauses a few paces away, watching the stream of shoppers and sight-seers walk by, content to let Cassian carry out his business.

“Hey, Az,” Cassian waves him over. “Red goldstone, what do you think?”

Azriel leans an arm against the booth. “Oh I’m flattered. But I like diamonds.”

“For Nesta,” Cassian cuffs him over the head. “Happiness, ingenuity, boldness.”

“It’s pretty,” Azriel admits, finding it an odd gift all the same. It’s one of those flimsy things fae buy each-other and themselves for trivial added energies and powers that is laughable when compared to a powerful High Fae—Azriel’s not sure the stones even have any true effect or if it’s all just speculation and hogwash. “She’d like the hidden sentiment.”

“All-right, Haris, I’ll take one,” Cassian tells the vendor. “Could you make it a charm for a necklace? I think it’d be…”

Cassian’s voice drifts out of Azriel’s mind as his attention turns from the numerous glinting gemstones and crystals to the people. He tunes out the sound of the market as he waits for Cassian to finish up, and quietly enjoys the sunlight beating down against him, the warmth on his wings. He never did get used to it, five centuries later. Always something to revel in and enjoy. He breathes in the warm air, lets it slip loose from his lips quietly.

A herd of running children whiz past him like racing foals and a girl knocking into him is what snaps him from his reverie. For a moment he thinks he is hallucinating in the heat when she looks up at him, wearing a large grin showing off multiple missing teeth and a horrifyingly morbid spread of scar tissue over her right eye and spreading up her forehead, until it disappears beneath her hairline.

“Sorry, mister!” she squeaks in a cheerful tone, and bounds right off, a noticeable happy jump to her skip, in the thick long bouncing hair at her back swaying with her sundress as she catches up to the other children.

He stares in disbelief at her, growing smaller steadily with every step, until she stops with the kids at a sweets vendor. Azriel watches her exchange a silver coin from the purse buckled around her thin waist for a cone of ice-cream which she tackles messily as the other children purchase their own delights.

It’s not the burn scars on her small body that has him staring, barely blinking, even though it is chilling to the bone imagining what had marked her so; from her right hand, the quarter of her face, a splotch at the corner of her mouth. He imagines she’s somewhere around ten years-old. Despite the horrific sight, what has him at loss for words, in awe even, is a much sweeter and kinder reason.

The little girl is obviously very much in love with her wig, continuously tucking it behind her ears and swaying her head side to side, relishing in the smooth way the tresses stream seamlessly against her back. She continues to sway, on the tips of her toes, side to side, her dress fluttering around her knees as she eats her ice-cream with childish delight.

Sometimes, Azriel’s seen enough of their world that has him giving up all hope in them. It’s a devastating thing to feel, because he only keeps himself alive by the promise that at-least someone out there deserves the protection and peace that Azriel tarnishes his soul for. Sometimes Azriel cannot find in him a reason to believe in any sentient being roaming this earth, what with the horrors he sees on a daily basis and the secrets he uncovers.

But sometimes, like this instant, when he’s looking at a little girl marked for life, smiling from a heartfelt gesture, Azriel cannot help but feel like people deserve his efforts. That he’s not fighting for a doomed species.

A smile spreads over his lips, without him realizing because he’s too busy trying to keep his eyes dry as the golden-brown tresses catch the sunlight. Azriel sharply turns back to the vendor, trying to focus on what the merchant is saying as he loops a golden hoop through Cassian’s gemstone but Azriel’s biting down the inside of his lip and pressing his brows together. He grits his teeth, staring down a rose quartz if only just to bring him out of his mind—

“Would you like one, my lord?” the merchant cuts through him as he loops a leather strap through the hoop. “The rose quartz is the renowned symbol of compassion and emotional healing. Not to mention it is gorgeous.”

Azriel meets his eyes. I’m not a lord, about to habitually roll off his tongue but a nod escapes him.

“Thought them stupid?” Cassian teases, twirling his necklace around an index while the merchant prepares Azriel’s. “Who’re you giving it to?”

“No-one,” Azriel mutters, leaning his shoulder against the stall, tucking his hands behind his back and somehow, the smile lingers still on his lips. What great power did such kindness have on a bystander like him?  

__

Azriel drops by the river-estate in order to deliver his mission report, and somewhere along the short path from the front gates to the front doors, he has lost his way and strayed into the grand flourishing gardens.

They’re truly a remarkable exquisite thing: Azriel identifies rare flowers he’s only encountered on reconnaissance missions and in the botany textbooks Elain keeps at hand. He even stares down some flowers he’s never seen before in his life.

The meticulous snip snip of garden shears drift in the atmosphere, coming from a large gathering of rose bushes.

“Hello,” Azriel softly announces, his footsteps audible over the foliage and grass as he makes his way over. Immediately they pause, and two heads appear over the bush.

“Uncle Az!” Nyx cheers. “You’re back!”

“I think so,” Azriel stops at the bush. “Hello, Elain.”

The smiling fae pushes back her large floppy hat with the back of her gloved hand and cheerfully grins up at him, face flushed rose-colored in the warmth, wisps of hair curling beneath the hat around her face and her pearl white teeth gleaming in the smile. Her nose scrunches against the ladybug that has settled on the tip of it and makes a fine slow path along the bridge of it.

“Hello, Azriel. Oh—don’t mind the little friend.”

“You gotta ladybug on your nose,” Nyx laughs, reaching out two small hands to collect it.

“Gently,” his aunt warns, and her pupil is well learned as he lets the beetle climb onto his fingers instead and cups his hand under it, bringing it close to his face.

“It’s pretty,” he remarks, going cross-eyed. “Can I keep it, Lain?”

“Here in the garden, of course.”

“Yeah,” Nyx draws. “Cause Mama won’t let me bring my ‘friends’ into the house.”

Elain looks up at Azriel, dressed in a white floral sundress covered by a brown apron and her hands by some torn and well-loved garden gloves. She wipes beads of perspiration off her temples, angling her garden shears away as she dabs her wrist at her fist.

“How are you?”

“Well,” he responds easily.

“Safe mission?” she blinks.

He nods. “Not very fruitful, I fear.”

“You’re safe and sound. I’d say that’s plenty fruit.”

He smiles wryly, holding her gaze. “Is Feyre at her class?”

“Yes,” Elain looks to her young charge, enamored with his new ladybug friend. “Nyx and I were tending to the gardens today.”

“That’s impressive.”

“Yeah, we did a lot of houses,” says Nyx. “A-lot a lot. Weeding and cutting and planting and watering and shearing and lots of things.”

“So you’re learning. Gardening is no easy feat. It takes patience and resilience to look after plants.”

“Oh, don’t blow it out of proportion,” Elain chuckles, stabbing the shears into the soil. “I think there’s some food left-over from lunch, if you’re hungry. Or I could fix you something?”

As tempting as it sounded, he couldn’t. Though Elain’s continuous offers to carry out little tasks for him warms his heart beyond description, he does have a packed schedule and dinner with Mother awaiting him.

“No, it’s back-to-back errands today, I fear,” he responds. “I just stopped by to say hello. How’s the shop coming along?”

A loose sigh deflates Elain’s shoulders and chest as she sits back on her haunches. She tilts her sunhat back and her lips twist. “Not good,” she answers, dejected. “I keep facing unforeseeable setbacks. It’s annoying. At this rate I think I won’t open for six months after the wedding.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm,” she nods. “All these irritating hold-ups. If it’s not taxes, it’s license. If it’s not the state, it’s the bank. If it’s not the bank, it’s the funding. I feel like I’m running in circles.”

“Where are you now?”

“Waiting on the Council of Commerce to sign off on my request,” she mutters, dabbing at her eyes and forehead. “And then off to the Bakers Association I go to be given a permit.”

“If there’s anything I can help with…”

“I know,” she blows out a breath. “Thank you. I keep you in mind, don’t worry.”

He smiles softly.

____

He runs into her at the market, laden with flower arrangements in baskets, barely even noticing him until she barrels straight into his chest.

“Sorry!” Elain rushes out, looking up at him. Her hair curls over her hairline in lush thick waves, has outgrown the close-cropped style it’d initially been, and now partially curls over her ears at the sides. She spares him a smile, wide and truthful, but he immediately notes how stretched it seems, that it doesn’t quite reach her distracted eyes. He holds back a frown at the sight of dark circles beneath them.

“Hi,” he smiles back. “I was picking up Cassian’s clothes. Can I help you with something?”

“I’m all-right,” she hitches her baskets up her arms with a laugh at her struggle. “Cassian’s taking me to the House, I’m showing Nesta the flower arrangements I have in mind for her bouquet. Did you know that fae don’t have the tradition of tossing the bouquet?”

“I did,” he still smiles. “It’s a little silly tradition, anyway.”

“It’s a tradition, still,” she responds. Wind blows in his face, against her back, blows her dress against his legs. “Anyway, will we see you tonight for dinner?”

“Uh,” he still hasn’t lived down the embarrassment of the last one. “I don’t—“

“I’d really love your thoughts on some of the food,” her brows knit together in the prime example of what adorable means. “I don’t want to present Nesta a flawed menu and you’re the finest connoisseur I know.”

“I enjoy food at best,” he tries to defend himself against pretentious labeling—just because he had taste and preference didn’t mean he was a snob, per se. He eats anything without a complaint, but it doesn’t mean he cannot distinguish between fine dishes and half-assed attempts—

Alright, he’s a snob.

“Please?” Elain begs.

When she rushes off down the street, Azriel glances behind him at her, the blue sundress flowing around her legs, and wonders when had he become the kind of person to cave from a single look, a single plea. Usually he is tougher to crack.

___

It’s some cosmic irony, he is sure. To stand in for Cassian’s duties while the male’s busy preparing for his wedding—how many days did one need to have his hair trimmed and clothes pressed?—and spend his non-existent free time doing Cassian’s jobs. It’s not that Azriel is complaining about having to be his brother’s crutch and his backbone in his time of need—he delights whenever he is needed, whenever he carries out tasks for people be it trivial or crucial. But this is one task that Azriel has dreaded from the minute he received it. If only because it requires him to go back to Illyria.

His father is the kind of male that swallows up the entire room with his presence alone, dwarfs everyone in attendance without even speaking, and has a remarkable way of making Azriel feel he is eight years-old again, trembling on his knees at the steps of his sire’s throne, his hands outstretched by his sobbing mother pleading for his salvation.

He hasn’t changed, at all. The same commanding presence, stone-hard face and silence. Contrary to the lords of Illyria renown for their boisterousness and violent leadership, Aetós is the deadly exception of quiet wrath and punishment that Azriel is acutely reminded is a similarity they both share.

Can he amputate the parts of his soul that are his father?  

Azriel really only hopes he isn’t botching up Cassian’s work here.

“Need I remind you of your High Lord’s command?” Azriel stands tall and firm in his father’s hall, hands tucked behind his back and his wings suitably flared, his eyes locked with Aetós’ own hazel eyes. Standing to the sides, his two half-brothers are watching him. The hall is filled with his father’s warriors in attendance; some violent knee-jerk reaction at the shadowsinger’s unexpected arrival that attracted the camp’s residents. The last time the camp witnessed his arrival, with the High Lord and Lord of Bloodshed, the lord’s household hadn’t fared so well.

“Do remind us,” Aetós tilts his chin up, watching Azriel through calculating eyes. “His lordship’s commands have been very frequent as of late.”

Those people respond to nothing but asserted dominance, to fear and power, but there’s something in Azriel that cannot bear to showcase his strength. Like he is being goaded into showing off like a horse at an auction.

“You haven’t been training the girls,” Azriel points out quietly, yet his voice carries in the silence and echoes across the stone floor and the large pillars holding the ceiling up. “When Rhysand has ordered you to.”

Aetós raises his hands in mock innocence. “We were very clear with the High Lord. Unfortunately, my warriors lack the knowledge how to beat warriorhood into our females while still keeping breath in them. The Lord of Bloodshed was livid, I believe, at the very blood shed following his request, therefore it’s been agreed he will personally oversee their training, or no-one else will.”

“Because you were asked to make warriors out of them, not kill them.”

“We will not smear the respect of the Illyrian name by putting out flawed, lesser soldiers. If they cannot handle the training, they will not be called a warrior—whomever they be.”

Argue himself senseless or beat the daylights out of the nearest unfortunate soul? A pain flares up in his forehead, one he grits his teeth against, staring in his father’s cunning eyes. Look for a quick way out? Or should he hammer away at this?

“You’re welcome to train them yourself,” Aetós gestures, before softly adding: “If you’re soft enough for it.”

Right. Okay. It won’t do to lose his head to his sire’s goading, no matter how shocked the spectators get at the brazen insult to Azriel’s reputation. Even if his reputation amongst these people is all he has—the reputation that makes even the greatest of them lower their eyes in his presence.

“I take it it’s final then, your disobedience?” Azriel replies. “Shall I report to Rhysand accordingly?”

“Do run along back to your master, yes.”

Azriel holds in his breath. Counts—reaches to three before he grits his teeth—fuck it, he’ll just turn round and tell Rhys his people are in open rebellion, defying his orders in broad daylights and taunting him publically. Figures it’d be enough to bring Rhys in to smash some bones and reassert the fear he strikes in them. That would save Azriel a fuckton of time and energy.

He turns on his heel, and makes his way to the entrance, ignoring the bitterness churning brazenly in his gut, itchy beneath his skin, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. When he finds three warriors blocking his path, Azriel stops, looks up at the high ceiling, remembers what he has to do today and it further sours his mood.

“So eager to report your failure?”

Azriel keeps his back to Aetós, stares at the three males, their varying resolute expressions ranging from determination to disgust.

“Do you have a death wish?” he softly reminds them, while one of their faces sparks a memory in Azriel’s mind. He’d flown with him in the battle of Hybern. By the expression in his face, the male recalls it as well.

Azriel turns to his sire. “Do you want to lose your soldiers?”

“I’m reassured they’ll be promptly replaced by vicious Valkyries, won’t they?”

Azriel pauses. The entire hall seems to be hanging on their every word and only then does it occur to him what having the Valkyries up and running once more would mean for the Illyrians. Then, he carefully asks: “How do you know about that?”

“Word travels, quickly,” Aetós stands from his throne, wings unfurling as he brushes dust off his thighs. “About Nesta Archeron and her troops. A fearsome legion of priestesses—will they prey for their opponents’ downfall? Tell me, how soon will they rival an Illyrian?”

Aetós steps down, approaches him. Azriel strides back in, summoning his shadows as he does much to the soft cries of fear and reproach.

“Does it bother you?” Azriel asks, face to face with his sire, despising how much it feels like staring in a mirror. It’s exactly how it feels like to look in one, after he leaves the dungeons of Hewn City, when his clothes are soaked with blood and his face flecked with it, and his chest is heaving with the high of adrenaline.

“I hear you train them yourself,” Aetós replies, just as dangerously soft. “Your disdain for your people is infamous, yet I hadn’t imagined you’d betray the secrets of warcraft entrusted to you at the first chance you get. To dislike us is one thing, but to create an army to destroy us?”

“Take it up with Cassian,” Azriel retorts.

“You’re a disgrace,” Aetós says and Azriel wants to laugh: does his father think Azriel somehow gives a damn? But he’s promptly shut up by the added words: “All that might and power and you follow the whims of others?”

Azriel is sure he was long since supposed to somehow exact punishment or a version of revenge for the lack of respect, but it is his curse when faced with his father and his family; Azriel is always that young boy in their presence. He hadn’t lifted a finger when Cassian and Rhys acted on his behalf—his half-brothers eventually walked and learned to move again—and he wonders if it said something about him he’d rather leave hidden.

“Even now, you hold back,” Aetós whispers. The insults and taunts intentional, then. “Why?”

Indeed, a suitable question. What would it cost Azriel to lose his composure on them—or anyone else for the matter? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. So the question should perhaps be a question of when, rather than why. Inevitable, is it not? What does Azriel gain by being ‘good’?

He tilts his head a little.

Aetós reaches out and gruffly grabs his arm, and Azriel would have cleft him in half if he were any other person; Cassian long ago learned not to invade Azriel’s space, suffered severe consequences in the times he did—and yet Aetós squeezes his shoulder, even as the seven blue siphons gleam in warning, and the lord only glances at them once, then back at Azriel, his eyes ablaze and expectant.

“You should claim your place,” Aetós hisses and it malfunctions Azriel’s head a little. “Among us. Fight your brothers for your rightful place. Fight me.”

Rightful fucking what? Did the years somehow blur the fact to Aetós that Azriel is his bastard son? The son shunned, locked in a window-less cell, tortured, and neglected?

“All this strength,” Aetós gives his firm shoulder a shake. “This power,” he watches the swarming shadows. “For what? You are wasting your potential. These gifts are bestowed upon you, and you turn your back on your people when you can claim your place amongst them, lead them? If you so care about the girls earning their so-called rights, you must see to it yourself. Not waste your time training priestesses when your priorities dictate elsewhere.”

Azriel reaches up, wraps mangled fingers around Aetós’ wrist and pries it off him with a grip that fractures the bones between his fingers. So Cassian hadn’t quashed all thoughts of rebellion out of their minds.

“Because you are dead to me,” Azriel softly answers. “Because I would see this entire country disbanded and leave you to the dogs. If you’re looking for compassion in me—don’t. You’ve never allowed it to grow. Train your females or don’t, I don’t give a shit. But you might find yourselves looking for the extra hands if the world comes for you. And remember, always remember: I’d rather see you all dead.”

____

Elain’s shop is a small bare construction site on the East Coast tucked next to a quiet old store for second-hand books, of empty windows and canvas covering the interior as the construction takes place. There’s not a sign put up yet, she’s yet to come so far along, but it’s one Azriel looks forward to seeing.

As a curtesy, he knocks when he pushes the creaking front door open and sets foot into the dusty shop. Canvas taped to the window-front, cans of paint left by the half-painted walls with their brushes and tools. A rusty toolbox sits on the ground, reflecting the faelight floating in the air.

“Elain?” he softly calls out.  

“In here,” comes the muffled response.

He rounds the counter, and ducks through the doorway into the kitchen-space. It’s small, but pristine clean—so much so that Azriel lets the shadows whisk off every particle of dust and dirt on him before he approaches her workspace where she’s standing with a straight spatula and a bowl full of frosting before a tall peculiar shape of cake.

“Hello,” he says quietly.

Elain’s lips flash in a wide smile. “Hi,” she replies, a little breathless as she resumes her quick work of spreading the frosting. “How are you?”

Azriel takes a seat quietly at her table, watches her wrist twist with the rapid movements of her hand, and gives a half-hearted nod.

Elain peeks at him from behind the cake. Takes one look at him before returning to her work. In the quiet late night, Azriel gives himself a minute to indulge in the tranquil peace of her kitchen, in the way his shadows wisp away into nonexistence to leave him alone, to leave him in peace.

“I’ve always appreciated how silence seems to follow you around, like a tangible force-field,” Elain pipes up as she works. “But I suspect now it is something troubled.”

He has to allow himself a soft smile. “I didn’t think I was so obvious.”

“I was concerned the moment you didn’t make a beeline towards the frosting.”

He chuckles, sits up and leans back in the high stool. “A little tired.”

She hums appreciatively.

“What are you doing?” he frowns.

A frustrated sigh escapes her lips as she sets down the bowl, seemingly satisfied with the spread of frosting. She runs her fingers through her hair which has grown long enough to her jaw and her eyes tighten as her fingers twist whatever strands she can into something that can be tied away from her face. “The cake. I came here this morning to put on the star, and I found it in ruins.”

He freezes. Elain sighs, her mouth trembling a little before she sits down abruptly, rubbing her forehead roughly. “Now I’m making it over again.”

“Who--?”

“Does it matter?” she says through her fingers. “When the disaster is due tomorrow?”

The wedding is tomorrow, and though the party itself is for the afternoon, the cake with room to be delayed for an hour at best…Azriel’s mouth feels dry.

“How?”

“The spell, the cooling spell,” Elain’s voice thickens, looking up. “Didn’t keep it fresh. It melted and broke apart. Cassian’s head was on the floor.”

“Can’t you make something else, easier?” he suggests. “Less time-consuming?”

Elain’s eyes shimmer. “It’s the one thing Nesta was excited about,” she confesses hoarsely. “I’ve been working on it since they set a date. It’s—it’s the only thing she’s looking forward to, tomorrow.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Azriel’s voice dies in his throat as he leaps to his feet when Elain’s composure breaks and she’s sobbing and crying instead of talking, and his heart’s stopped instead of beating. “Elain—“

“It’ll crush her,” Elain sobs, loudly, her chest shuddering alarmingly as she muffles her mouth with her hands. “I don’t want to disappoint her—“

“You won’t,” his hands hover at his sides, unsure of what to do. “It’s all-right, you have time, still. I’ll help you. Don’t worry, it’s all-right. Hey. Hey. Stop crying, we can make it in time. Please. Please, Elain.”

“I’m sorry,” she stutters. He grabs the end of her apron and wipes her face dry. “You must think I’m an idiot but I just—there’s a lot to do and—“

His hands, seeming to have a mind of their own if his own won’t give a suitable order, grab her by the neck and cradle the back of her head as he pulls her into an embrace. She freezes, her hands hovering in the air between them momentarily before they rest on his chest and Elain gives into his hold.

“It’s going to be okay,” he reassures her, tucking her away from the world and her grievances. “Calm down.”

Mirth returns to her voice, muffled as it is against the scales of his armor. “Oh I’ve calmed down. I’ve never been so at peace. Is this how you calm everyone down?”

He steps away, to tap his siphons and retract his armor. “Only over-worked bakers,” his mouth curves in a smile.  

“Oh Madam Valois must be in love,” Elain teases as he rolls up his sleeves. “She must have hysteric fits all the time to attract your attention. Wait, what will you do if I spiral so far in my head that sensible thought won’t reach my poor ears anymore?”

He grabs an apron and winds the tie around his waist, his mouth betraying his smile as he meets her eyes. Elain’s grin softens in a smile, genuine and precious despite how tired her face looks.

“Hurry up finish up Cassian’s arms. I’ll start the batter.”

____

The wedding is beautiful, the ceremony even more blissful and graceful that prompts many eyes to shed precious tears—not that Azriel would be caught dead with damp eyes; he has a peculiar system of emotions and so far he hasn’t encountered much that will move him to tears. Nesta has asked her friends Emerie and Gwyn to be her handmaids, to join her as she makes the walk towards Cassian. Cassian, whose free-flowing tears will ruin his smart clothes, whom Azriel keeps passing a handkerchief and drying his dress-shirt for.

Azriel may attribute the fact that the day is more delightful than it actually is to several factors; one being sleep-deprivation and exhaustion, because it’s not in his nature to be so cheerful. But everyone else is infected with the joy of a day like this so he doesn’t particularly stand out while enjoying the celebrations. The tasteful dances performed by the most renown musicians, the delicious food and various dishes of desserts, the beautiful decorations, and the talk of the hour: the cake.

But mostly, Elain steals his breath away. Despite having seen her an hour before the wedding when they parted hurried ways at the staircase of the riverfront estate each to their respective baths, and despite spending the entire night with her, it feels like he hasn’t seen in her years when he finds her again, Nyx with her as he tries some of the Illyrian dessert Elain’s included in the menu.

“Emerie?” he asks curiously, watching his nephew chew cautiously.

“Oh no,” Elain replies, handing him a plate. “I met an Illyrian female through friends. I keep her gardens, and she was kind enough to teach me in return. She lives with her mother, and the both of them were so kind as to help me.”

Azriel frowns a little, his tongue moving with the bite of sweet dough. Elain’s got it down correctly to the finest detail, even to the shavings of nutmeg on top. “Where d’you meet an Illyrian female outside Illyria?”

“Oh, it’s uhm, I don’t know if you know the place,” Elain looks to the glittering ceiling as she searches for her answer. “Her estate is a little down south? Closer to the border with Day. It’s called Ro—oh, there she is! Diana!”

He freezes, as Elain waves to someone over his shoulder.

Don’t look, he tells himself. Don’t turn. Disappear quietly and smoothly. Nyx is distracted and—

“Come on,” Elain grabs his elbow. “I’ll introduce you. Oh, and Ophelia as well!”

No chance! His shadows cry in dismay as he slowly turns, and his eyes lock with hers.

They widen, incredibly so, and gleam.

Shit.

“Diana!” Elain hugs the young female as soon as she’s in arm’s reach. “We were just speaking of you. This is Azriel—I was just telling him how you taught me to make the dishes for today. Azriel, this is—“

“Diana,” he says curtly.

Black brows curve up and a smile breaks out on her lips. “Azriel. Elain, I had no idea you two were acquainted.”

“You know each other?” Elain asks, just as the older female joins them and Azriel resigns himself to his fate.

“Oh, darling, it’s so good to see you,” Ophelia embraces Elain before her warm eyes meet his. “Azriel, sweetheart, you look so handsome.”

He cannot stop the smile on his lips as he bends to hug his mother. “You look gorgeous, as well.”

Elain makes a confused little sound.

“Oh you and Elain know each-other!” Mother remarks delighted. “What did I tell you, Di?”

“And I agreed. His head has been in the clouds for a while now.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were acquainted,” Elain brushes her parted fringe behind her ears, Nyx quietly takes in the unfolding situation with wide attentive eyes. An unwelcome witness to Azriel’s undoing.  

“Against our will, I assure you,” Diana replies, looping her arm through Elain’s and Azriel practically sees his life flash before his eyes. Curse Cassian for inviting his family. “(But it’s the event of the century, Az! They have to be at my wedding!” “You fucking bastard, you’re pledging yourself to your mate in front of a crowd, it’s not The Treaty signing!”)

“If I’d known you knew my brother, then that would have saved me so much effort.”

Elain’s eyes widen.

Azriel looks down at Nyx. He really should strangle Cassian.

“Oh—I had no clue—Oh, Azriel, what a surprise!”

“Don’t think less of me for being her sibling,” he requests, and Diana has the nerve to splutter an offended laugh.

“Of you?!” she gawks and Mother has to pinch both their arms.

“Behave,” she orders, her eyes scouting out the guests, and landing on Cassian. “I’ll be just a moment.”

They wait until she’s out of earshot before Diana hisses at him: “Fucking idiot.”

“Wench.”

Elain blinks, then smiles. “I’d never have guessed…” then her eyes widen and Azriel quirks a brow at the bright red that flushes her cheeks. “Di..so…all those times your mother was trying to set me up…”

Diana grins. Nods delighted.

“Mother did what?” Azriel prays his ears have mistaken what they reported.

Diana sways side to side with the music, her grin wide. So, so wide. Azriel feels his head go faint—first female to enter Rosehall and his mother tries to make her their daughter-by-law? “I tried to, you know, control the damage. But… you know Mother.”

“Control damage?” Elain quietly repeats and Diana tries to hide the sharp nudge from Azriel but he catches it, quickly.

At his deadly stare, she caves in. “Ok, you can’t fault us. She’s perfect and lovely and we love her, and we couldn’t believe our eyes. You should take one for the team, be selfless, and—“

His growl escapes him despite himself, through grit teeth and a flared nose that his sister squeaks out a laugh at before disappearing, saying something like: “Is that Rhys? I’ll go say hi” before she disappears.

“Az,” Nyx decides to pipe up. “Are you and Nain--?”

“Hey look, Nesta’s cutting the cake,” Azriel turns his nephew round and gives him a strong push, leaving him to collect his breath and make sense of his horror while meeting Elain amused eyes.

“I…That was horrifying,” he slides his hands into his pockets and Elain smiles. “So, you go to Rosehall, then? I admit I didn’t think much of it when Mother said she’s hired a lovely female’s help. I was just glad they stopped asking me to weed every-time I go.”

Elain rubs her elbow sheepishly. “Sorry I didn’t tell you. I never made the connection. All your mother said about you was…”

“Oh no.”

“No, no, all good things. All good things,” Elain trails off, fighting off a beautiful smile, looking away at the couples and people dancing. She breathes in and promptly changes the subject. “I’m glad it’s over.”

He has to agree. “You’re due more credit. All of this came together beautifully.”

She furrows her brow. “You’re the one who brought it all together for Nesta.”

“You executed it,” he moves to stand beside her. “And look, the cake’s remarkable if I get to say so.”

Elain hums, her hands collected before her as they look at the splendid life-sized cake of Cassian and Nesta in an image of epic glory, down to the swords and niche details of Cassian’s armor. Azriel has a newfound awareness of all the individual scales and lines he’s never cared for before, mostly because his hands ache from slicing up fondant and tracing on it.

“Thank you, for your help,” Elain turns her eyes on him. “I never asked what is it that brought you to me in the first place. Did you need something?”

Not something in particular, only that he noticed her absence all day, and when he asked around no one else had seen her. He set out to find her for the sake of it, but he cannot deny that some part of him was still sore and strangely tender after his meeting with his father. There was something nameless that bothered him, and he couldn’t puzzle over it on his own—he tended to think the worse, come to the wrong conclusions in such cases. Only that he needed the company, her company.

And what splendid company it was, snorting and laughing their way through the night while whisking cake batter into perfection, baking and sculpting and cutting and slicing and making frosting and rolling out fondant and painting their siblings’ liking onto food. Azriel isn’t ashamed to admit that he enjoyed himself all the while. Though he cannot speak for Elain, he figures that she at least appreciated the company while she worked all night.

He shakes his head. “Does it matter?”

Elain studies his face for a short while before taking his word and turning her attention back to the party. “Can’t believe all the planning is over.”

“I wonder what you’ll fill your life with now?”

Elain tilts her head. “Sleep, for now. For days on end. And after that…well, I have many projects in mind. Not to mention opening the shop is a feat of its own.”

“Have you given thought to my offer?”

Elain gives him a gentle smile. “You’ve put me at a crossroad with it. I cannot refuse but I don’t want to accept.”

“It’s only an investment. I’d rather put my money to use.”

Elain rubs her fingers slowly, individual knuckle by knuckle. “I’ll only say this because I know you wouldn’t misunderstand me. But this is something I want for myself, and only myself. I can have had the shop up and running the week I decided on it by asking Rhys or Feyre for help but the thing is, I enjoyed having to work for it, to sweat and labor in bringing it to life. It feels like my own. I don’t want to accept your money because then it will no longer be mine, but ours. And I… do not misunderstand me, I’d be delighted to share something with you. But this…”

In a way, he does understand. He nods when she looks at him. “I get it. But keep in mind it’s only an investment. I wouldn’t have any power of decision, or would dream of involving myself. No one need know.”

“But I’d know,” Elain voices, her eyes squinting slightly while they dart over different people. “You see? I… please don’t take offense.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies gently. “I truly only want to help. Because you matter to me.”

She gives him a lovely smile. “Well you can help me build it. The paint’s smell makes it hard for me to finish the job and there’s a lot of work requiring muscle power if you’d be kind to lend me some.”

“Anything,” Azriel reassures her. “Have you figured out what it’s going to look like?”

“I keep bouncing between ideas,” she murmurs, her tone softening. “I’ve made some sketches. Would you take a look sometime, and give me your opinion?”

“I’m not much of a connoisseur in architecture, but I’ll always lend you my mind.”

“Splendid,” Elain suddenly gives a yawn as she rubs her wrist with a tight wince. “Oh, I think I’ll be sore for days after today.”

“Here,” he holds out his hand and hides his smile when she gives him hers. “I recommend giving them a good soak in hot water. Wrap your wrists in hot cloths and keep them immobile.”

Elain glances at him as his fingers identify tendons and muscles in her hands and massage away the hard tension in them. “Do your hands often hurt?”

His mouth curves wryly at the question’s phrasing, because it is a matter of how often and not if. Yet more proof of this woman’s unrivalled sight. “Sometimes,” he confesses, glancing at the scar tissue. “Especially in the cold. The scars aren’t functional tissue so it’s… painful sometimes. Especially with how deep they go.”

The orchestra strikes up a slow sweet melody led by a violinist. Elain’s hand unfurls steadily in his hands with each determined stroke. He doesn’t pause when her head rests against his shoulder, and fully leans against his side, but his heart does.

“You need mittens,” she murmurs, voice thick and slightly drowsy. He barks out a loud laugh that startles the people around them.

“Do I?”

“Mhm,” she decides. “Thick fluffy mittens. Custard yellow. I can see it. I’ll make one for Solstice. Your enemies will run screaming in fright. ‘Oh no, it’s the Mitten-Adorned Terror! Abandon formation! Every man for himself!’.”

“Wouldn’t hear the end of it from the others,” Azriel muses.

“Oh what do they know,” Elain sighs, her weight a comfort against him. “It’s pointless suffering in silence, meaninglessly.”

He is inclined to agree. But doesn’t voice it, rather focuses on her sore hands while wondering if he asks her for a dance if it won’t be some jaw-dropping, war-inciting gesture that will have his head bitten cleanly off his shoulders. He could excuse it as something friendly, in a sense. Harmless. He’ll have to dance with Feyre and Nesta, and Mor as well before his with Elain can be dismissed as harmless which is admittedly more dances than he currently has in him.

But he figures it’ll be worth it.

So he opens his mouth while rubbing his thumbs in the pit of her palm. “Elain—“

Freezes immediately, because she’s fallen asleep at his shoulder. Standing—leaning against him, technically—and fast asleep. She’s done a good job using cosmetics to cover up the signs of the past months’ strain on her, but this close, Azriel can make out the circles beneath her eyes, how her mouth slopes at the edges in her sleep.

He wraps an arm around her waist to keep her supported before he takes a discreet step backwards right through a shadow and appears in her room at the river estate. She doesn’t stir when he lays her on the soft mattress, and spreads a blanket over her, but she does snuggle into her pillow, short hair flopping over her face before he pushes it back, reminded of a little girl’s delight and wonders if Elain knows just how much the gesture means to someone marked forever by the fire’s permanent touch. When scars turn from something abhorred and ugly (mostly in one’s own regard) into something beautiful and interesting just because someone had taken one look at them and decided so.

Beautiful, Elain had breathed at them, and the siphon atop them.

_________

Tags: @tswaney17 @julesherondalex @mis-lil-red @gorl-power @thesirenwashere  @stars-falling @trying-to-read @dreamerforever-5  @hail-doodles @eloeloeheheh @i-am-lost-in-my-world @abraxos-is-toothless  @queen-of-glass @elrielllll @negativenesta @b00kworm @harmonyindark245 @ducksmurf135   @empress-ofbloodshed @sleeping-and-books @thewayshedreamed @agem10 @superspiritfestival @maybekindasortaace @maastrash @courtofjurdan @ireallyshouldsleeprn @gracie-rosee @bookstaninthesoul @elriel4life @fawnandshadows @123moiaussi @impossiblescissorspeachpaper

#elriel fic #elain archeron #azriel fic #the people have spoken and now they receive #hurt/comfort #to be more accurate it's more stress+hurt/comfort #there's kindness in there too a lot #because i cnanot help myself

[englishstrawbie]

august 21st : snorkel

They are on Nakanoshima beach when someone suggests going snorkelling. Lucy immediately says no. She might be living on a ship in the middle of the sea right now, but that doesn’t mean that she has any desire to be in it. Except one of her ship mates comes back and tells her that they saw sea turtles and that captures Lucy’s attention, because she loves the sea turtle habitat at Sea Life Park and thinks about how cool it would be to see them in the wild.

She chews her bottom lip thoughtfully and wonders what Kate would say if she was here. It is an easy answer. She would tell Lucy to go for it, that she has already come so far in conquering her fears and that all she has to do is find a little bit more courage to go into the water.

So she does it, staying in the shallow waters, and, despite the way her heart thumps in her chest, she loves how much she can see below the surface. She floats above the bright pinks and reds of the coral, contrasted by the dark greys and browns of the rocks. A small octopus jumps out at her and she panics for a moment, before it returns to its hiding place. She feels a little braver and swims further until a school of tropical fish appear, a swarm of blues and golds and oranges gliding past, nonchalant to her presence. And she seas a sea turtle!

Kate is the first person she calls when she is back on the ship. Of course she wants to know everything about it, what Lucy saw and how she feels now she has done it. She tells Lucy about all of the best places for snorkelling on O’ahu, starts making plans for when Lucy gets home and, oh, Lucy misses home – and Kate – so much.

“Hey,” Lucy says, interrupting Kate mid-sentence. “When I get home, can you and me take some time off together?”

“Sure,” Kate says. “You want to go on vacation?”

“I want…” Lucy pauses, as she searches for her words. “I just want to be with you, no distractions. I miss you, Kate. I really wish you’d been here today, to have seen what I saw, to be on this adventure with me.”

There is so much longing in her voice and she can tell that Kate is smiling on the other end of the phone, her mouth doing that little twitch it does when someone is paying her a compliment.

“I miss you too – so much. But you’ll be home soon, just another month to go,” Kate reminds her.

Lucy nods to herself. Just one more month until she is home in their apartment, in their bed and in Kate’s arms. She goes to sleep every night with that thought in her mind.  

“Next time you call me, you’ll be telling me that you’ve been deep sea diving with sharks.”

Lucy laughs, her hair falling off her shoulders as she tips her head back. “I don’t know about that,” Lucy says. “Now tell me more about Pike’s undercover operation. How did it end?”

“About that,” Kate says slowly. “I, uh, I’m getting a medal from the FBI for my part in it.”

“You are? Kate, that’s amazing!” Lucy cheers. “Why didn’t you stop me talking about fish and sea turtles, and tell me that?”

“Well…”

Lucy hears Kate hesitate.

“It sort of involves me and Tennant and a bad guy with a .50 caliber machine gun.”

There is silence for a moment.

“I’m sorry… what?”

august prompts

#ncis hawai'i #lucy tara #kate whistler #ncis hawaii #ncis hawai'i fanfiction #my fanfiction #august prompts

[oh-gh0st]

OKKKK since peoplez wanted to read it.... here it is :3 SHINUSHI FIC YEAAAHHH (its under the cut lawl)

A cool breeze drifted about in the summer air as small speckles and cloudy blobs of white were littered across the blue sky. It was neither too hot nor humid to do any activities, resulting in many people out and about today. Families at the parks, couples on afternoon dates… it was a perfect day outside! “1136! 1137! I can still keep going!!” Loud counting sounded throughout the area, followed by the swishing of a baseball bat being swung repeatedly. Jyushimatsu was outside today, adoring his baseball uniform and practicing his batting with his baseball bat at the park in Akatsuka. He had gone out for exercise initially, but as he progressed further, he decided today was nice enough to enjoy it as is. And so, with his 1148th swing, he dropped his bat and leaned back, stretching his body out. He could feel the adrenaline and excitement pumping in him, riling him up with so much energy. “Haaa!! Hustle Hustle! Muscle Muscle!!” He chanted as he stretched, pumping his arms up and down. After finishing stretching and grabbing his bat from off the ground, he strutted back over to the metal bleachers and to his bag, taking a seat on the empty bench. He popped open a water bottle and proceeded to chug it, albeit slowly so as to not make himself throw up. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Jyushimatsu felt prideful in how much he worked today. Well, at least so far. There were still plenty of hours left in the day, and so much left to do… As he stared up into the sky and watched the clouds drift along, he was pulled from his thoughts as he heard a distant sound. Blinking himself out of his mind, he whipped his head back and forth to find the source of the sound. It sounded like… meowing? He stood up and began to take a step until he felt something brush up against his leg. He finally realized where the sound was coming from… Below him! “Ahh, didn’t see you down there! I almost stepped on you, hehe!” As he looked down to his feet, a black and white longhaired cat had padded up to him. It sniffed his legs and the general area around him before gently rubbing against his calf, purring loudly. Jyushimatsu bent down and let the cat sniff his fingers before allowing him to pet itself. He scratched and stroked the cat’s back, giving it, particularly much attention at the back of its ears. As he squatted and took in the appearance of the cat, he realized it reminded him a lot of someone he knew. It reminded him of his friend, Shinrei. It only dawned upon him further as he looked at the cat’s eyes, identical to Shinrei’s. Blue and black. When Jyushi stood up and went to sit on the bleachers, the cat jumped up and sat next to him, waiting as he fully sat down before climbing into his lap. He smiled down at the kitty in his lap, petting it as it purred loudly in his lap. Mom is going to have a lot of fun with the cat hair later when washing his uniform…

“You remind me of my friend, Shin-chan! You look just like her, as if she was a cat!” He pointed out loud, talking to the cat as if it was a real person. It mewed back in reply. “She likes cats a lot. She has one, too! Her name is Eve… she’s a really nice kitty!!” As he began to ramble on about Shinrei and all things related to her, he could feel himself getting lost in his rambles, the time passing much quicker than he had anticipated. When he realized it, it was almost sunset. “Ah… it’s almost time.” He noted as he looked up to the sky, the sky blue now replaced with gradients of violet, red, magenta, orange, and yellow as the sun began to set. More clouds started to roll in, possibly for a light shower tonight. He took in the atmosphere while the cat from his lap sat up and stretched, yawning as it was stirred from its relaxation in Jyushi’s lap. Padding off of him and down onto the ground, the cat mewled back at him, likely as thanks, and trotted off. “See you later, Mrs. Kitty!” He waved lightly, smiling and bubbly with happiness. Oddly enough, it felt nice to ramble to someone, even if it was a cat. Ichimatsu always told him that cats are smarter than people think, though. So maybe it did want to listen to him… Shinrei did like listening to him talk about his day, too. That’s another thing the cat and Shinrei had in common. Huh… As he got up from the bleachers and stretched, he took mental notes of what else might need to be done. “Hmm… I did baseball, running, exercise… Now onto Shinrei-chan’s place!!” Jyushi clapped his hands together, smiling as he decided his next plans for the day, or rather night. He dusted himself off, removing any cat hair that might be a nuisance, grabbed his bag, and walked to his next destination.

“Aaahhh, Jyushimatsu! You’re covered in cat hair!” Shinrei shouted as she opened her door, seeing Jyushi standing outside of her house. His shirt and pants were littered with little strands of black and white cat hair. She told him to take off his uniform as soon as he got inside, throwing it into the wash to save his mother the trouble of dealing with cat hair all over their place. Throwing on a fresh pair of clothes that he had accidentally left at Shinrei’s before, he relaxed onto her couch with her cat Eve at his side, scratching her head and ears gently. Shinrei was seated next to him, working on an instrumental track for her music. Humming out loud in surprise, Jyushi almost whacked Shinrei in the face with his hands as he remembered the events of today. “Ah! Shinrei-chan! Guess what I saw today!” “Hmm? What'd you see?” “A kitty!! A cat! A cat that looked just like you! It was black and white, had long hair, and even the same colored eyes as you! On the same eyes, too!”

She paused her typing and mouse clicking, looking up at him with a surprised smile. “Really? That’s surprising… are you sure it wasn’t me checking in on you?” Jyushi chuckled to himself at the joke, feeling his cheeks flood with waves of heat as he blushed. “I don’t think so! Was it you, Shin-chan?” She hummed, “No… I was busy with my music today.” “Ah…” Jyushi sighed, looking back at the TV in front of them for a few moments. “Mrs. Kitty was really nice.” “…was she?”

“Yeah! She listened as I talked for hours and hours… she stayed in my lap the whole time!” Jyushimatsu glanced over to Shinrei, locking eyes with her as she looked up from her sewing. “She must’ve been a really nice kitty, then. I’m sure she loved listening to you talk.” As she said this, Jyushi wrapped an arm around Shinrei, pressing them close together, shoulder to shoulder as he rubbed his cheek against hers affectionately. He paused, pressing a light kiss to Shinrei’s cheek before looking at her again, smiling wide. “Yes… she was.”

#ghosts rambles #ghost's fics #oso san posting #shinushi #yeaaahh idk how in character jyushi is.... i wrote this at like 2 am. chokes #i hope u people like it to whoever reads its ^-^ hehe #its something small. and i guess cliché???? idk #person shrugging emoji

[queen-shiba]

Chuki's story chapter 3

@killersweetie @vtoriacore @vtoriacore-rbs @sakkakuu-squared @seraphni @maythearo @captain-liminal @fizzydreamz @feliciadraws @b0nkers-papaya @h3apm3ch4n151m @soru-spam @soru-ya

Chuki woke up in a cool room, hearing the voices of adults in it with her.

"Her condition isn't too bad. She'll just need to eat more, and get cleaned up." The doctor said.

Nomusa nodded, "Of course. I'll make sure that happens."

They both take notice of the child who was now awake, "Ah. Hello, Chuki." The doctor's voice was kind.

She held out her hand for Chuki to shake, and slowly, the cub took it, shaking her hand.

"It's nice to meet you. I'll be the one you come to for check-ups."

"She's one of the doctors living in the palace." Nomusa said.

"Palace...?"

Is that where they were?

Maybe that's why the room was so nice.

"You're both dismissed. Do come back if anything is wrong." The doctor said kindly.

With that, Nomusa picked up Chuki, and walked her out of the room.

They enter a hallway with guards roaming around.

Some nobles here and there.

It wasn't crowded, but the few that were there were quite diligent in their duties.

It was almost intimidating...

Definitely enough for Chuki to hide her face in Nomusa's shoulder.

"Oh, it's alright. They don't bite, I promise." The cheetah assured her, petting her head, "Let's get you washed up and then we'll get you a nice meal."

Chuki nodded slightly, seeing them enter a dimly lit room that was well decorated.

A bed sat in the middle of the room, with a dresser on one side, and a night stand on the other.

There was a door on the side, leading to what looked like a bathroom.

Nomusa entered the bathroom, setting Chuki down, "I'll run a bath for you."

She then turned on the water, allowing it to run until the tub was half full.

Chuki swayed her tail gently, watching her do so.

Should she get undressed now and get in, or wait?

Nomusa pulled out a cloth and some soaps. Shampoo came next, "If you want, I can wait outside while you bathe. If not, I can assist."

Chuki pondered for a moment before nodding, "Can you help me..?"

The woman only nodded, helping Chuki out of her clothes before washing her.

.

.

.

Now, Chuki was squeaky clean! Granted it took a while to get to that point, she was good as new!

Her hair was taken care of, all knots combed out of it, and all the dirt was gone!

Chuki felt nice...

Her old tattered up dress was taken and burned, and she was given a new dress to wear.

It was a nice orange dress, decorated in all sorts of designs.

She was adorned in just a bit of gold, too.

Some around her neck, and some on her wrists.

She looked lovely!

Nomusa showed her around the palace, so that she wouldn't get lost, and so she'd know where she could and couldn't go.

On their walk, Chuki noticed two boys walking together.

They seemed to notice her too, and the one with red-ish hair and brown eyes came striding over.

Chuki was quick to cower, seeing how much bigger her was than her, even if it wasn't by much.

"Who's this?" He asked curiously.

Chuki trembled, curling her tail.

Was he going to harm her...?

"This is Chuki, prince Falena. Please be careful when approaching, I don't want her to be scared." Nomusa said, placing a gentle hand on Chuki's head.

The other boy came over, quiet as ever.

His hair was dark brown, and he had green eyes.

He was about her height.

These two wore clothes that you'd see royalty wear.

"Chuki?" The one known as Falena spoke again, "It's nice to meet you! I hope we can be friends!"

Chuki only nodded slightly. She wouldn't want to upset him, but in all honesty, she wanted to go back to the room.

"Falena, you'll scare her. Tone it down." The other boy said. He didn't refer to him as "prince."

Were they both princes?

"Ah, right! Thank you for reminding me, Leona." Falena chuckled lightly, turning back to Chuki, "I'm Falena Kingscholar. This is my little brother, Leona Kingscholar."

"Nice to... Meet you..." She muttered, ears pressing flat against her head.

"Wow. You're a shy one, aren't you." Falena smiled warmly at her.

She tried to smile back, but it came out... Crooked.

The two princes drew back just a little at the sight, "Oh.."

Nomusa couldn't help but chuckle, "We'll work on it."

Chuki's smile faltered and she pressed herself against Nomusa, taking her leave to see the rest of the palace.

That Leona kid... He seemed quiet..

If they were brothers, wouldn't they act the same..?

She was curious about him.

He wasn't overwhelming... Maybe she could try and talk to him sometime.

The End!

Stay tuned for the next chapter!

#twst #twisted wonderland #savanaclaw #twst mc #twisted wonderland mc #leona kingscholar #twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #twst fic #twisted wonderland fic #afterglow savanna #sunset savanna #falena kingscholar

[iboatedhere]

“Now, everyone knows the navel, but the real star of the orange family is the cara cara,” Owen says as he gestures to the platter of perfectly sliced orange wedges on the table in front of him. “It’s sweet, and doesn’t have too many seeds….like a cross between a naval and a blood orange. Go ahead,” he says as he pushes the tray forward. “Take one. I brought plenty of extra since I’m betting they’re going to go quickly.”

TK rolls his eyes then smiles at one of Jonah’s teammates who shyly asks him for a bottle of organic, low sugar apple juice.

It’s his week to bring refreshments to the game, and he was happy for the help when his father offered, but so far, all Owen has been doing is flirting with mom’s over orange slices while TK fights for his life, trying to remember which kid is allergic to red dye #40 and who can’t have processed wheat products.

“I used to eat these all the time when I was growing up in Santa Monica,” Owen continues, “there used to be a tree in our backyard.”

“You’re from California?” One of the mother’s asks as she pushes her hair behind her ear.

Owen nods. “California, and then I moved to New York City….spent that first summer as a lifeguard in the Hamptons…it’s where I realized I wanted to be a firefighter, that that was my calling.”

“A lifeguard to a firefighter, you’ve been a hero your whole life.”

TK groans as his father puffs out his chest.

“Well,” Owen says, “I wouldn’t say that.”

“I would,” another woman says. “TK, you never mentioned how interesting your father was.”

“Yeah, he’s really interesting,” TK says, “I think the most interesting things about him are that he’s nearly sixty and he’s been divorced twice.”

The smiles slowly slip from their faces as they make their excuses to head back to the bleachers.

“Thanks a lot,” Owen says and TK rolls his eyes. “What? You’re the only one that’s allowed to find love at the little league game?”

“You are not finding love with those women.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No, dad, you misunderstood. You. Are not. Finding love. With those women.”

“Why not?”

“They’re too young for you.”

“They’re not that much younger.”

“I’m pretty sure at least two of them are younger than me.”

Owen looks like he’s about to argue before he presses his lips together into a thin line and winces.

“Yeah,” TK says.

“Well, anyway, this is still fun. We should really invite the 126 to come to a game. I’m surprised you haven’t already.”

“Jonah wouldn’t like that. They’d be loud and he doesn’t even like it when I cheer for him like that. Which reminds me, you have to be cool. Don’t go crazy, don’t storm the field if you don’t agree with a call.”

“I would never do that.”

“The softball game doesn’t ring a bell? I guess getting punched in the face might mess with your memory.”

“That was an AFD-APD softball game against adults, not a child’s game. Plus O’Brien was being a—.” He cuts himself off as a couple of kids run by the table. “Butthead.”

TK snorts. “Nice.”

“Maybe we could have a cookout or something once the season ends. I could fire up the grill, you can invite Carlos and his niece.”

“Yeah,” TK says quickly, “maybe, I don’t know.”

“You know they miss you, right? They ask me about you because you don’t always text back.”

“I’m busy, dad. There’s a six year old that lives with me that needs me. I can’t spend my day sending cat memes back and forth.”

“I don’t think they expect you to do that.”

“I see Judd, sometimes. And Grace. And Mateo when we come over to hang out with Buttercup.”

“Okay,” Owen says. “All right.”

“I miss them,” TK says. “But I don’t know how to be around them right now, not after what I did.”

“You didn’t do anything, TK.”

“What I almost did. What I was going to do. How can they trust me?”

“They love you, that grants you some grace.”

“That’s unprofessional.”

“We’re a family,” Owen says as he squeezes TK’s shoulder. “We’re bound to be a little unprofessional from time to time.”

TK nods. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good,” Owen says. “We’re all here for you. We’re all on your side.”

TK nods as Jo suddenly calls his name.

“TK!” She calls, limping up to him with Carlos following behind, holding the first aid kit. “TK I need you!”

“What happened?” TK asks as he gets to his feet.

“She fell off the bench,” Carlos says, “even after I warned her to get down because I knew that would happen.”

“Don’t be mean to me,” Jo says with a stomp of her good leg. “I’m hurt.”

“It’s a scraped knee,” Carlos tells her. “I could put a bandaid on it for you.”

“I want TK to do it. He’s the paramedic.”

“Can’t argue with that,” TK says as he helps Jo onto the chair he vacated, and takes the first aid kit from Carlos with a wink. “Let’s get you fixed up.”

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #wip wednesday #little league AU

[hakubunii]

hiiiiiiiii it's me carlee but tumblr makes me use my main for asks 🙄 bunny if u got to dress up any of the hakuoki characters in sanrio character themed outfits or onesies who would you have wear what 👀👀👀💖

Hiiiiiiii Carleeee!!!! Thank you so mf much for the ask! I’m actually so excited to answer this and am so glad you brought the idea to my attention. I’m gonna think of outfits but also treat this like it’s a Hakuouki Sanrio collab- I also wanted to try to use different characters from the ones we usually see with Sanrio collabs.

Here’s the ideas below:

Chizuru (and consequently Kaoru): Sugarbunnies- Shirousa and Kurousa. They are twins and Kaoru would be Shirousa, the older twin, while Chizuru would be Kurousa, the younger one.

I would dress Chizuru in an oversized, brown sherpa fabric sweaters with pastel pink leggings. The hood of the sweater would have floppy rabbit ears with pink detailing. They’d both wear pink converses. Kaoru would wear a similar outfits but the sweater being white with darker pink accents. I love Sugarbunnies, they’re so cute and also Kiki and Lala aren’t the only pair of twins from Sanrio!!

Hijikata: I wanted to pick a character that isn’t used much but I think Kuromi would be really cute! He’d probably refuse to wear anything too cutesy but might let me put him in a purple button up shirt. He’d just wear white pants but I’ll be damned if he doesn’t wear a Kuromi headband!! Specifically, I’d have him dress like the purple variant of her. She’s a little mischievous so I think he’s be on her ass lmao.

Okita: Masyumaro! Souji HAD to get a cat character! I think he’d wear white pants with a white, slightly larger, button up shirt. One top of the button up, would be a large, orange sweater vest. To emulate his bow, he’d would wear shoes of the same color. Ofc he’s in cat ears. You’ll find I’ll add animal ears to any given outfit in this.

Saitou: Hangyodon!! I desperately want more merch of this character and of Saitou! I would put him in a onsie of him too- it’d be really cute haha. Like Saitou, he doesn’t express a lot of emotion. Like Saitou, he’s still super cute. :)

Harada: Hanamaruobake!!! Omg! It’s be so so cute! He’s a little white ghost who treasures his giant red, pencil. He matches Sano’s color pallet perfectly and even has something that resembles his weapon. Hanamaruobake is shy but he really likes superheroes and loves encouraging his friends. He and Sano have the latter in common! I also think he’d think Sano was cool! Anyways, I’d dress him in themed t-shirt of him! He might wear red pants with it but I’d mostly want to give him a headband with a cherry on it to look like Hanamaruobake’s.

Heisuke: Usahana!!! Omg it’d be so cute and it’s not just ‘cause she and Heisuke are my favorites. She is so special to me! Her story is that she wanted to go play on a rainbow by a lighthouse but kept stopping to help her friends. After doing this, she saw all of her limbs were a different color of the rainbow! Her favorite season is summer and she loves sunflowers and orange sherbert. I’d throw him in a hoodie that matches her colors- it’s kind of look like one of those color block hoodies. I’d probably put him in normal jeans and yellow socks. As for the bunny ears, he’d DEF have a headband of them. I’d throw the orange flower in his hair just to be silly.

Shinpachi: Kobuta no Pippo!! Mostly because of his green shirt haha! I think I could convince Shin to wear a onsie of this character- mostly if I give him food. Pippo loves surprises, games, and playing with his friends. This reminds me a little of him haha.

Yamazaki: Chococat!!! He’s probably wear a black sweater and black pants and cat ears. I wanna put a blue collar on him like how the mascot has but that felt…odd…so he’ll wear a blue belt. Chococat’s whiskers work almost like antennas and is often the first to know information- I thought because Yamazaki gathers info, it’d be a cute match.

Souma: Little Forest Fellow!!! I’d put him in a matching hat to the characters and a big brown and white sweater!!! He’d also have a charm of the little guy somewhere. I think he’s think the little dude is so so cute.

Iba: Cogimyun! He’s think she’s so cute! She a flour fairy that wants to be a rice all! She crumbles into a pile of powder when she’s upset. He would be very protective of her!!! I don’t exactly know how I’d style him- I think I’d put him in matching headpieces to hers. I think I’d just have him in a white shirt.

Sakamoto: Chibimaru! He’s a cute lil puppy. Put that man in puppy ears rn!!! I think he’d just wear a brown jacket and a shirt themed to the character! He’d also wear normal pants.

Kazama: Lloromannic! I was going to choose them for Chizuru and Kaoru, but I think I’d just give Kazama both of them. They are also demons. He’s probably wear black to match them and a top hat with wings to look like Cherry, the pink one!! He’d also have horns like Berry, the black one. Now that I think about it more, it would have been really cute to use them for the oni twins but it’s okay.

#hakuouki #hakuoki #harada sanosuke #heisuke toudou #otome #okita souji #toudou heisuke #nagakura shinpachi #kazama chikage #sakamoto ryouma #iba hachirou #souma kazue #hijikata toshizo #saitou hajime #hakubunii #hakubunii ask