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naughtyneganjdm · 7 months

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The Perfect Costume

Summary: Negan goes to a Halloween store with his family in search of costumes to wear.

Characters: Negan & the reader (OC, second person)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50991043

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, a little smut (not very detailed), dirty minded Negan, etc

Notes: This is meant to be a sweet little fic with Negan being naughty in the way he talks and the smut is very miniscule and not very detailed. Just a short little Halloween fic. Enjoy!

“Any idea what kind of costume you have in mind kiddo?” Negan questioned following around your five-year-old daughter while she ran down the aisles of the Halloween store you were in. Negan had your eight-month-old son Noah strapped to his chest in a baby carrier while he held onto your hand. “Emma? Baby girl. Are we looking for something that is cute? Scary? Some kind of animal? We’re running on nothing here baby.”

“I don’t know daddy,” Emma exclaimed, stopping in her tracks to look back at Negan with a frown. Tossing her hands up, her dimples sank in looking around the aisle. “There is so much here! When I see it, I just know I’ll know that’s it!”

“Remember we’re looking for all of our costumes baby girl,” you reminded your daughter knowing that she had begged both you and Negan to pick everyone’s costume this year. “So you have four costumes to pick out.”

“I know, I know,” Emma blew off the responsibility of it all causing Negan to snort since she was so lost inside of the store that she really didn’t have a care in the world what either one of you were saying. “Finding a good Halloween costume is…really…really important. It can determine how much candy I get this year. Y’know?”

“Solid point baby girl,” Negan snorted, his fingers tightening around yours while you continued to follow your daughter around the Halloween store. It was like she was lost in a toy store and she was amazed with everything often stopping when she saw something that she thought was cool.

“Daddy!” she seemed in awe of something while she stepped before it. It was a monster mask that when you pushed a button, it looked like it oozed blood. An amused bout of laughter fell from her throat when she threw her head back to look at Negan. “It’s so ugly! I love it!”

It made both of you laugh, but her awe didn’t last long before she was running off to go look at something else that caught her eyes, “The interest lasted ten seconds before she’s off.”

“She is my daughter. She can’t focus on just one thing,” Negan snickered at the thought trying to keep up with Emma while she looked over everything. “I will take credit for all this pent-up energy. I have a hard time focusing too.”

“You? No,” you teased Negan, hitting him on his shoulder playfully. “You aren’t like that at all.”

“I notice the sarcasm in your tone,” Negan chuckled, his head lowering down with his lips hovering in over yours. Bringing your lips together in a lingering kiss, you heard the disgusted breath falling from your daughter. Pulling away slightly, you saw her staring up at the two of you with her hands on her hips. It made Negan let out a big belly laugh, his nose nuzzling in against the side of your neck with the anger that she was sharing for the two of you kissing. “I feel like a young boy getting scolded by my parents.”

“What did I tell the two of you about kissing?” Emma folded her arms out in front of her chest in attempts to lecture you. “Dial it back on the kissing. It’s gross.”

“It’s my way of telling your mother that I love her kiddo,” Negan pressed a faint kiss over the side of your cheek before kneeling down, hooking his arm around Noah who let out a small squeal when they were eye level with Emma. “Kisses aren’t a bad thing.”

“The last time the two of you got super kissy, I ended up with a little brother,” Emma blurt out causing Negan to choke and then laugh. Looking up at you with his big hazel eyes, Negan couldn’t help but smile and nod his head. “And while I love Noah, we don’t need another baby in the family. Not now at least. He cries a lot during the middle of the night.”

“That’s because he’s a baby sweetheart,” you reminded your daughter, stepping forward to place your hand in over your daughter’s shoulder in a tender squeeze. “Babies do that.”

“Imagine two babies doing that,” Emma circled her finger around Noah and his big eyes followed the movements of his sister’s finger from where he was strapped to Negan’s chest. “Noah is cute. And I like how he smiles, but the crying? No thank you!”

“You know, you used to cry too sweet pea,” Negan reached out to pull Emma in closer to him, careful enough to keep Noah safe while he peppered kisses over your daughter’s face. At first, she tried to hold it in, but the more Negan kissed at her face she couldn’t help but giggle. Her small hands placed in over the sides of Negan’s face and he laughed along with her.

“Your beard is itchy,” she tipped up on her toes to press a kiss over the side of Negan’s cheek. “I love you daddy, it’s just embarrassing how much you and mommy kiss. At home, okay. But in public, you need to cool it.”

“Got it,” Negan’s nose wrinkled and he gazed up at you again from where you were standing beside them. “We’ll work on it.”

“No you won’t,” Emma sighed gazing between both of you. Throwing her hands up in the air, she dramatically shook her head and shrugged. “I’m just gonna have to get used to babies. So many babies.”

“Emma,” you laughed watching your daughter turn on her heel after she gave Noah a quick kiss on his head.

“I’m okay with lots of babies,” Negan pointed out, letting out a grunt when he got up from his knees. Glancing back at him, you heard Negan laugh and shrug his shoulders. “I like being a dad. And I like what we have to do in order to make babies.”

“What does that mean?” Emma stopped in her tracks making your face flush over with a warmth when you reached for Emma’s hand.

“Nothing,” you immediately answered for Negan hearing his amused chuckle from behind you. “Now let’s find us some good costumes here.”

“Yeah. Maybe we should talk about what we are going to want for daddy’s costume. Maybe a vampire. I’ve got the looks and the charm for a vampire,” Negan suggested trying to keep up with the two of you while you looked through the aisles again. “Or maybe I can be like a zombie baseball player. Or like a wizard or something.”

“A wizard?” Emma stopped walking to look back at Negan. “What’s cool about a wizard?”

“I don’t know, they do magic and what not,” Negan looked to some of the costumes that were hanging.

“You’re not magical,” Emma heard Negan snort and he turned to look back at his daughter. “You’ve never been interested in magic tricks.”

“That’s not true,” Negan held his finger up in the air, his dimples sinking in when he let out a long exhale. “You should see the magic trick I can do when it comes to your mother’s pants.”

“Knock it off,” you groaned out, rolling your eyes noticing the mischievous sound that followed.

“What does he mean?” Emma looked up at you with big eyes and you shook your head. “Mom?”

“He’s just being silly,” you responded to your daughter who turned away and you let out a yelp when Negan moved in behind you to pinch your bottom. Emma stopped, giving you a strange expression with the sound you made. “Sorry honey.”

“I think it’s pretty magical how fast I can get your pants off,” Negan whispered in your ear and you rolled your eyes, pushing your hand into Negan’s shoulder to put some distance between the two of you. “I could be a killer clown. I think I’m pretty funny.”

“No,” Emma slurred out her words causing Negan to huff out loud. Emma was denying all the suggestions that Negan was throwing out for his personal costume and you found it amusing how she was ignoring her father’s ideas.

“How about this one for you mama?” Negan called out pulling a costume out that was very skimpy with devil horns on it. “Or, if you don’t like that one…”

Negan pulled out something similar and held it up to show that it was an angel costume, “This one is just as nice and we can use it after the kids go to sleep.”

“That looks cold,” Emma noted after you gave your husband a glare. “It’s going to be cold at night daddy. She doesn’t want something like that.”

“I was just thinking for after we go trick or treating,” Negan gazed between the two before setting the angel costume down and grabbing the devil one. “I think I’ll get this. Just in case.”

“You’re weird,” Emma commented, squeezing her fingers tighter around yours and it made you snicker. “Why would you want to wear a costume when you’re not trick or treating?”

“He’s just being goofy like daddy often is,” you gave Negan a glance and he tipped his head to the side. “Has anything caught your eye yet honey?”

“So many things! That’s the problem,” Emma exclaimed gazing around at everything in frustration. “I love it all.”

“Well you are going to have multiple Halloweens after this honey,” you suggested hearing Noah coo out and you looked back to see that he was curling his fingers around Negan’s index finger holding tightly to it. “I think your little brother is hungry.”

“He will eat soon, we just have to figure this out,” Emma insisted tugging firmly on your hand to pull you toward a section of the store where she had seemed to have the most interest.

“I found two things that I think you should get for me,” Negan’s voice drew your attention when he returned with trophies in his hands. Holding them out to you, you accepted one to see that it said biggest cock on the block and then reached for the other to see that it said pussy eating champion on it. You choked back on your laughter trying not to draw attention to the items that he had grabbed. You were thankful your kids were too small to understand these things at this point. “They fit, right?”

“Did you go out in search of the naughty section of the store?” you shook your head in disbelief hearing his amused laughter follow. “You need to chill.”

“I don’t understand, why would you want to eat cats?” Emma’s voice beckoned the both of you and you saw that she was standing up on her toes to read the trophies that Negan had grabbed. “Daddy, you’re allergic to cats. Your eyes would puff up and that’s just gross. Who eats cats?”

The immediate laughter that followed from Negan when you noticed two other parents staring out at you in disbelief made your face hot with embarrassment but you couldn’t help but laugh too at the situation. Both from your daughter’s innocence and the situations Negan always put you in.

“You’re a dick,” you breathed out under your breath knowing that by the wickedness of Negan’s laughter that he was proud of himself.

“Why is no one answering me?” Emma seemed frustrated, but Negan walked off to go return the trophies. “Why would he want to eat cats?”

“He doesn’t want to eat cats baby,” you assured your daughter with a sigh noticing that Negan was in quite a spunky mood today. “Let’s find those costumes.”

“You both are weird today,” Emma noted and you didn’t disagree with her there. When Emma found something, you saw her eyes light up at the sight of it. “Mommy! I’ve got it! This can be daddy’s costume!”

When Negan returned, he was singing one of the Halloween songs to Noah that was clearly on his mind.

“Your daughter found you something,” you pointed to the outfit that Emma had found for Negan and he looked up letting out a long, lingering groan. “This is yours.”

“Oh come on,” Negan grumbled seeing Emma look back at him at excitement.

“Isn’t it great daddy?” Emma held the costume out and Negan looked to you, his dimples sucking in when he breathed loudly.

“Yeah, honey, it’s just great,” Negan sighed, feigning a smile knowing that he would do anything for his daughter. “I can’t wait to try it on.”

---

“Daddy this is so freaking cool!” Emma boasted running down the driveway from the home she had just trick or treated at with you. The ears from her Tigger costume bounced when she went to give Negan a hug, slamming into him with excitement. “I told you the right costume would get me all the best candy. That woman gave me full sized candy bars,” she pulled back to reveal the candy that was in her bag. “You should go up with me next time so maybe we can get more.”

“I’m super happy for you kiddo,” Negan reached down to pick up Emma while you carried Noah. “You know, I get why you made your little brother Piglet, but is there a reason you let your mama be a pretty witch and I had to be Winnie the Pooh?”

Involuntarily a laugh fell from your throat when you looked to Negan and the costume he was wearing. It was an oversized the Winnie the Pooh costume and you could see his face flushing over with red when a few kids from the school he worked at walked by.

“You always call mommy honey, so I just thought it fit daddy!” Emma exclaimed, clinging tightly to Negan while he made it to the next house. “You tell me I’m bouncing off the walls all the time. So I make the best Tigger. Noah is always hungry and he’s small. So Piglet makes sense y’know?”

“And mama gets to be a pretty witch? Why wasn’t she Eeyore instead?” Negan wondered looking to you knowing that you found amusement in all of this.

“Because mommy isn’t sad like that. She’s pretty and I think witches are cool!” Emma explained with a tiny laugh when she wiggled out of Negan’s arms to reach for his hand to eagerly lead him up toward the door and you followed not far behind with Noah. Once you finished up at that house, when you got to the bottom of the driveway Emma hugged Negan again causing another groan to fall from his throat. “Come on guys.”

“You know, I love her hugs,” Negan began as you followed Emma on the sidewalk as she continued to skip to the next house, “but I can’t wait until she gets a little bit taller. Every single time she runs and hugs me, she headbutts me right in the nuts.”

“Negan,” you couldn’t help but laughed watching him reach down with his big Winnie the Pooh paw to try to adjust himself in a way that wouldn’t draw attention to it, but it looked pretty ridiculous.

“I’m not kidding. I’ve been headbutted in the nuts about fifty times today alone,” Negan informed you with a tiny rumble of a laugh. “And that shit hurts. Even being in a padded chubby bear costume.”

“Come on daddy!” Emma called out reaching for Negan who eagerly stumbled up the driveway with his daughter. Emma was so excited and Noah was really just enjoying the lights and all the costumes, letting out small laughs from where he was strapped to your chest in his baby carrier.

Negan urged Emma to keep going until the very end of trick or treating and by the time you had gotten home, Negan had grabbed Noah and went to the kitchen table to help sort through the candy that they had gotten. You couldn’t help but be in awe of your husband seeing him sitting at the kitchen table with both your son and daughter sitting on his lap still dressed in his Winnie the Pooh costume. The amount of pictures you took tonight were ridiculous, but you couldn’t help how cute you found everything.

At the end of the night, Negan had fallen asleep on the couch still in his costume with both Emma and Noah on his chest after watching movies together. You had taken your costume off and you were cleaning up things, but you couldn’t help but be in awe of the way your husband was with your children. As silly or ridiculous as he was, Negan always showed up when it came to being a dad. He made things fun for your children and he showed them endless amounts of love.

The sound of movement drew your attention seeing the way that Negan carefully moved off the couch to carry both a sleeping Emma over his shoulder and Noah in his other arm, “You need some help there Pooh?”

“I’ve got this,” Negan assured you and you followed him up the stairs of your home to the second floor. Watching Negan put your children to bed helped you to realize how much you truly loved your husband. He was a great father and there was no question that was the sexiest thing about him. After he peppered Emma with kisses, Negan followed you back out into the hallway and threw his hands up in the air. “I need to get this costume off.”

“Let me help you,” you reached for his hand, laughing when the paw accepted your grasp. Leading him to the bedroom, you closed the door and moved around Negan to undo the zipper at the back of the costume. Negan pushed down the head of the costume and grunted when he tugged his arms out of the material. “You know, I thought you were pretty hot when I first met you. Wearing that leather jacket looking like a bad ass.”

“Yeah?” Negan’s eyebrow arched in curiosity, sitting down on the edge of the bed. His hair was wet from being sweaty while he worked to get the legs of the costume off. When he was done, he tossed the costume aside and was sitting before you in a white t-shirt and black athletic pants that he had worn underneath the costume.

“But nothing tops how sexy I found you tonight,” you informed him, moving forward to curl your finger in underneath his chin to get him to look up at you. There was an amused expression over his features while you caressed over his face. “Dressed in a costume you hated, making our children happy being the sweetest father.”

“Ah,” Negan snickered, turning his head to the side to place a kiss over the center of your palm. “You have a Winnie the Pooh kink, huh?”

“Oh stop,” you rolled your eyes hearing his laughter follow and he tugged you down to fall in over his lap. Hooking his arms around you, Negan started to tease you with the idea of kissing you, but it was just a faint brush of his lips over yours. “I just love you. So much.”

“I love you more,” Negan hummed, finally claiming your lips in a kiss. Your kisses grew in strength and before you knew it, you found yourself at the center of your bed with Negan crawling in over you after he managed to strip off the remainder of his clothes. “It’s been a while since we’ve gotten to be with one another like this. We usually have one of the kids with us at all times.”

“Then we better take advantage,” you suggested, brushing your fingers through his wet hair drawing him to your lips again letting out a soft moan when he entered you. The rolling of his hips was slow over you while he took time to pamper you. “Negan.”

“We should have grabbed that devil costume before we did this,” Negan hummed against the side of your neck making you both laugh. Dropping his forehead against yours, Negan’s winces grew louder with every thrust he made over you. “Fuck.”

“Yes,” you purred in his ear, curling your fingers into the curls at the back of his neck.

“Yeah?” Negan breathed out, his hazel eyes locked on yours when every move he made grew in strength. The sound of crying filled the air over the baby monitor and Negan let out an overwhelmed sound, his head burying against the side of your neck. “No, no. Fucking, shit.”

Amusement flooded your veins when you stroked your fingers through Negan’s wet hair realizing that you weren’t going to be able to finish with Noah crying, “I can get him.”

“No,” Negan groaned out, pulling his hips back and away from you with a wince. Reaching for his athletic pants, he pulled them up and over his hips adjusting himself when they were on. “I’ve got this.”

“Maybe Emma was right. We should stop at two,” you teased watching Negan swiftly crawling back in over the bed to pepper kisses over your lips.

“Nah. I want a fucking baseball team,” Negan slurred against your lips and it made you chuckle against his flesh. “I got this, but when I’m done with the little dude, I’m coming back in here and we’re finishing this up.”

“Sure we are,” you mused knowing that it would probably take a while to get Noah settled again. Negan held his finger out and pointed at you which made you laugh. Even if you didn’t get as much romantic time as you may have wanted with Negan, it was all worth it to you. Because living your life with Negan was better than anything you could have hoped for.

----

Tags: @slutlanna976 @fuckthis-and-fuckthat @jennydehavilland @de-gabyconamor @ibelongtonegan @smallsadjellyfish @labyrinthofheartagrams @msjamesmarch @thebeautysurrounds @hotfornegan @redmercysugar @caprithebunny @tuttifuckinfruitty @emoryhemsworth @a-girl-interupted @akumune @stoneyggirl2 @xsarcasticwriterx @insertneganhere @haleygreen23 @xhannahbananax03 @sanctuaryforthelost @burningredaffair @killaweiser @dead-of-niight @ayumi-wolf @hollyismentallyillhelp @promiscuousbarnes @tone-stark @lanadelnegan

#Jeffrey Dean Morgan #Negan #Negan fanfiction #negan x reader #The Walking Dead #twd fanfiction #Negan x you #Halloween #Halloween fic #Negan Smith #Negan Imagine

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ofsappho · 2 months

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THE KNIFE OF MUAD'DIB (Paul x OC!Reader x Chani) Part III: Duncan

Wherein na-Duke Paul Atreides is not the Bene Gesserit's only prospect for the Kwisatz Haderach. Raised by Paul's side as his playmate and servant, Chryse, the Bene Gesserit's cuckoo child, will forge a new future for her master.

(previously posted on AO3 as Themis)

(Note: I invented some stuff/added some new terminology to make up for worldbuilding that didn't happen in canon. If you have questions just send me an ask!)

PART III: DUNCAN

Duncan did not consider himself an unnecessarily stubborn man. Though he was initially wary of including Lady Jessica’s young Bene Gesserit handmaiden in Paul’s combat training, a year had proven that Paul flourished with the addition of a sparring opponent who matched him in strength and size.

One, two, three. His pupils’ current sparring bout played out in front of him in the training room. The sound of each blow and each block echoed off the walls like a heartbeat. “Arms up, Paul.” Duncan cautioned.

At the reminder, the youth straightened up and his gangly arms, now starting to finally bulk out to Paul’s poorly-hidden satisfaction, came up to properly defend his head and torso. His black curls stuck to his forehead with sweat while a fierce expression furrowed his young brow.

That expression brought a fond smile to Duncan’s face. Paul’s father looked like that when he fought.

Since he had added full contact sparring to Paul’s training, Duncan was pleased to note that the boy continued to earn that privilege with his devotion to every lesson. His scrawny charge appeared early in the training room with eagerness written across his open face every day.

Of course, he still got into mischief and roped his companion into it frequently - that was just Paul’s way. His attitude had greatly improved since that final, fateful temper tantrum and since his lady mother enlisted that girl into her household.

At twelve, Paul had begun to settle into the features that Duncan imagined he would retain into adulthood. Though he could hardly match his tutor in stature or build now, he was growing like a weed. The boy would easily be as tall as him one day, if not taller.

He could still remember the squirming little bundle Leto had pressed into his arms mere hours after Paul’s birth. When the infant’s eyes had met his, he saw the same emerald green eyes of the Duke and his father before him. Duncan felt privileged to have been able to watch that baby grow into a capable, earnest boy.

Paul was, in a way, the son of his heart.

Even though he seemed to be growing into the very image of his father, Duncan could see himself in Paul too. When he was only a toddler, Paul did his very best to imitate the swordmaster’s mannerisms. That child had been so sincere that all who saw him couldn’t help but chuckle.

Now, Paul had grown to unconsciously mimic the way Duncan carried himself, the length of his stride, the way he gestured with his hands. There was no better legacy the warrior wished to leave behind than this youth, a true child of the three of them - Leto, Jessica, and Duncan.

He had taken to combat with the same ease his father had, at nearly the same age, the swordmaster thought as he watched with fondness and pride. Paul darted, quick as a hunter-seeker, past Chryse’s strikes only to counter with his own.

That his liege had entrusted Paul’s training to him was a great honor. The boy in front of him, fighting with a keenness much older than his age, could yet match his noble father in excellence. Whether or not Paul would exceed him remained to be seen.

One did not so easily clear the bar set by Leto Atreides. The Ginaz swordmaster remembered how at newly fifteen, coral disk in hand, he had been sent to join Duke Mintor Atreides’ household and accompany his son and heir, na-Duke Leto Atreides.

His lord had always been different. Leto had been a mere teenager when they first met, itching to prove his might against the Harkonnens in battle, yet he was wise and principled in a way that Duncan had never known.

Ginaz built master swordsmen and tacticians, not people. Not lords.

After their first spar, after the way Leto clasped his hand and pulled him up from the ground after the na-Duke had sent him sprawling, Duncan knew he would follow that man to the edge of the Imperium and beyond.

There might have been shame and failure in defeat at the hands of a different man. There was no shame in his heart when Leto raised him up, as there was no shame in bowing to the might of the wind.

Later that night, Leto had clasped their calloused hands together, and Duncan remembered thinking, he is half of my soul.

Even the Emperor knew of the then na-Duke Leto’s integrity and the effortless way he commanded respect and loyalty. Thufir Hawat, the most fearsome Mentat in the Imperium, had sworn his fealty to Leto as he had to Mintor and Paulos. The legendary bard-warrior, Gurney Halleck, was plucked out of the Harkonnen slave-pits by Leto and pledged his life to him in return.

The Duke earned every ounce of allegiance given to him.

From that first day on, the Ginaz swordmaster knew he would follow House Atreides until the end of his life. For what was glory, if not serving Leto and his family with all Duncan had? To give his life over to the keeper of his soul?

He would die for his lord without question. The Duke knew this and pressed a more difficult task upon the swordmaster - to live for him, should Leto die first, so that Duncan could protect Paul.

One, two, three. The two children danced around each other on the floor mats before Paul pushed Chryse back far enough that she could not reach him without an answering attack that would do real damage. She stopped for a moment, her gaze darting around the room to catalog everything like a Mentat, and waited for Paul to catch his breath.

“Again,” Duncan commanded, his voice harsher than it should be.

A sigh escaped him at the sight of her barely concealed flinch. He really shouldn’t have barked at her like that. Chryse had never done anything to Paul or Duke Leto. Her presence had lifted Paul’s spirits and challenged him to strive further by all accounts, including his own. The retainer watched the children fight a while longer before halting practice for the day. The two of them gathered cups of water and returned to the mat to stretch, Paul’s carefree chatter filling the room.

Duncan had only lived this long through trusting in his instincts. Around Bene Gesserit, his instincts told him that there was something terribly wrong with these women.

All that said, he and Jessica had come to a consensus many years ago over their shared lord and lover. She made Leto happy. When the woman presented his soulmate with a son and heir, the Duke had never been more pleased. Duncan would die to protect that happiness. He would never go so far as to call her a friend, but they were cordial with one another, and he served and protected her as was his duty.

Though it didn’t matter how cordial and respectful she was to the swordmaster or how many smiles she brought to Leto’s face, Duncan trusted any member of her order about as far as he could throw one.

Her little handmaiden unnerved him in the same way they did.

The day Chryse joined her household, Jessica had pulled him aside. He remembered being taken aback by the wild, desperate fear in her eyes. That smooth voice of hers had only the barest quiver when she informed him of the girl that the Imperial truthsayer delivered in-person to Caladan.

At her words, the swordmaster straightened up while one of his hands strayed to the long sword, sheathed at his belt. “Is she going to pose a threat?” He growled out. That truthsayer be damned. The whole Bene Gesserit be damned. He would protect Leto and Paul at any cost.

He counted the time she took to respond in heartbeats. With each beat that passed, ire set deeper into his bones, and he stepped closer to the lady to press for her answer.

Jessica looked away from Duncan to her pale hands as if examining the tendons that lay beneath the skin. In the moment before she answered, her imperious expression twisted into what looked like shame. Duncan blinked, and the guilt was gone so fast, he wondered if he’d imagined it.

“...No.”

Their gazes met. He trusted her to protect their family. Jessica knew that. While her trepidation alone was enough to mark this unknown girl as a threat in Duncan’s mind, he had faith that Jessica would never let anyone bring harm to House Atreides. To Leto.

Duncan perused her face, looking for any hint of a lie. She seemed truthful enough. “Alright.” He stepped back. That was hardly a satisfactory answer, but Duncan would let it lie as Jessica was indiscernible once more.

She neatly tucked her hands behind her back, out of his sight. “Her name is Chryse. She is to be my handmaiden when she grows older, but for now, I’d like her to accompany Paul to his sparring lessons with you.” Duncan knew Jessica well enough to know when she was giving a command, one framed diplomatically as a request.

The urge to refuse that command was strong, but he instantly understood what she meant under her poised words. Jessica would never jeopardize Paul and Leto by allowing a known threat into their house. This girl was an unknown. Should anything happen under his supervision, Jessica knew he would protect Paul. Duncan did not doubt that she’d arranged other minders for the little handmaiden when he wouldn’t be there.

He would obey his lady’s command, and the two of them would guard Paul against this unknown.

Chryse was quiet, quieter than any child of her age he’d ever known. They had met for the first time when a giddy Paul had dragged her behind him, both to show off his new companion and to seek Duncan’s approval.

She and Jessica shared the same placid countenance that all Bene Gesserit had, a countenance that unnerved him every time he experienced it. The ice in her face only melted when Paul looked to her to ensure her attention during one of his rambles about the latest filmbook he’d seen or when Paul asked her some sort of open-ended question with the bright curiosity of a young child.

When anyone set choices in front of her, the girl seemed overwhelmed and lost. Chryse shied away from decisions, and Paul seemed to enjoy earnestly guiding her through them, even if he hadn’t entirely realized he was doing so. Duncan was grateful Paul didn’t have an ounce of selfishness or ill-intent towards her, for her sake.

There was something wrong with her. The swordmaster was sure of it, and that surety set him on edge. Duncan had observed her during their first lesson - when Chryse fought, Duncan felt that combat was intrinsic to her and required no conscious effort on her part. As if she was constructed instead of raised.

Halleck’s beloved Orange Catholic Bible came to mind. Thou shalt not make a machine in the likeness of a human mind.

Hunter-seekers were constructed for combat, too, though those machines had to be operated by someone else, somewhere else. He feared that someone, somewhere, was operating this girl.

Duncan Idaho knew that time was not an enemy, unlike what many other men thought. It was an ally. So he waited, and he watched.

Of course, Duncan had sparred with her himself before so much as letting her near Paul with a bokken. The girl-child didn’t only land one hit - she landed many. She left bruises. For a few moments during the fight, he almost stopped seeing her as a child in his care, not more than ten standard years old. Chryse was another enemy, another Harkonnen or Sardaukar, and Duncan Idaho couldn’t see past that until she was sprawled on the training mat beneath him, the tip of his bokken under her small jaw. One particularly forceful blow and he’d have broken her neck. The child hadn’t responded or whispered a word in protest. She merely continued to look up at Duncan with her large, guileless eyes, like a calf going to slaughter.

In the year since their first meeting, Chryse had managed to put his initial fears to rest. She had a very marked reluctance to physically injure Paul when the two of them sparred and would go out of her way to avoid doing so, even if that action put her at a disadvantage. It frustrated the boy to no end, but Duncan preferred it to the alternative. There were no threats or thwarted assassination attempts from her or anyone else. It seemed like the only people who held Chryse’s reins were them.

But Duncan was not completely heartless. The more time she spent with Paul, the less overwhelmed she seemed. Chryse’s movements were still uncanny, but he watched her slowly become more like a child and less like a weapon, like a winter melted into spring. The girl tended towards a rather endearing wide-eyed naïveté and innocent wonder.

The two of them had grown since their first meeting in directions that complimented the other. Paul wasn’t nearly as restless and dissatisfied as he had been. She grounded him and made him happy in a way the adults in his life simply couldn’t. The boy had continued to guide and nurture her, and Chryse had continued to trust in him enthusiastically. They reminded Duncan of the young vines Jessica tended to in the gardens, intrinsically and unconsciously intertwined as they reached for the sun.

Time was an ally. Duncan had time to continue watching her and ensure she wouldn’t grow into her potential as a threat. Paul had time to grow into his potential as a soldier, a warrior who could defend himself.

A servant appeared in the doorway. “Pardon me, Sir. Lady Jessica requests her handmaiden’s assistance in her presence-chamber.” He nodded his assent quickly and gestured for Chryse to follow after the attendant. The girl hesitated for a moment, seemingly ill at ease. Duncan didn’t miss her unease or the way she tamped down on it with force.

Paul had rounded on Duncan as soon as she’d left without a backward glance, endearingly chattering on about their lesson. “I think I did better today with the grappling? I’m trying-” For the moment, the swordmaster would put away his concerns, and he turned his attention to the boy in front of him.

Paul attempted to duck away from Duncan’s hand but failed to avoid a fond ruffle of his dark hair. “You did well, Paul.” The retainer didn’t give out empty praise - Duncan knew his honesty would benefit Paul the most. Chryse was unnervingly quick at picking up the forms and throws she learned, but Paul even now had a bright mind that could anticipate her moves in advance and adjust instantly to compensate. He had an innate control of every spar; there again, Duncan could see Leto in him.

“I’m proud of you.”

Paul stopped short at his words. He looked then like the small child Paul had been, a child who clung to Duncan’s every word and often looked for his approval and attention. Before he could respond, the tutor continued. “Listen to me. I know you know that one day, you must be Duke Atreides. To you, that seems far away and impossible right now.” Duncan could see Paul’s uncertainty whenever his future as the Duke was brought up as clear as day, for all of the boy’s feigned confidence and maturity.

The Dukedom was his by right of birth. But the potential and capability to be a great man, a great leader, a great Duke; that was all Paul. No great ancestor or accomplished relative could have given Paul that. While the boy didn’t have an inherently boastful or vain temperament, Paul lacked true confidence in spades. Without it, he would fail. “I have never lied to you, and I do not intend to start now. When that time comes, you will be deserving of it. I promise you.”

The boy grew somber at the weight behind Duncan’s words, and his green eyes stayed fixed on the man’s face.

The Harkonnens circled ever closer, their military might backed by the obscene riches they drained from Arrakis.

At the emperor’s command, Leto had been called before the Landsraad that week to negotiate a dispute between their quadrant and an adjacent quadrant.

The Great Houses under Leto’s jurisdiction as Warden of Centaurus Quadrant had risen against the Great Houses of Bode Quadrant. The skirmishes grew bloodier by the day. If House Atreides could not keep the peace, the emperor wouldn’t hesitate to strip them of the wardenship. Padishah Shaddam IV looked for every chance to undermine Leto.

The moment they finished in the training room, Duncan planned to head straight to the war chamber to coordinate the deployment of Atreides troops to the many planets under their dominion, under Leto’s orders. Ideally, they would halt the bloodshed entirely, but judging from the most recent intelligence from Hawat, protracted disputes were the more realistic outcome.

As sheltered as his childhood was, Paul had only known peace. Duncan did not doubt that peace would be in shorter supply when the boy reached the age of majority. Dukehood was his right, and Paul needed to know it. Belief in that right was all that stood between him and his possible destruction.

Paul straightened up under Duncan’s gaze. “Leading our House is your right, Paul. It is what you are owed. You need to own it.” Steel settled in the boy’s gaze, and Duncan grew pleased at the sight of it. Paul would take his words to heart.

When Paul responded, his voice seemed to echo off the walls with a gravity that far outstripped his age. “I understand.” There were still a million and one different ways the boy could falter, and hundreds of thousands of other factors that might end their House.

But the youth standing before him wore an expression of ancient understanding, some otherworldly wellspring of memory and experience. There was no reasonable explanation for how Paul had come to that understanding right here, right now, but it was so intrinsic that Duncan didn’t question it at the moment.

The moment between them passed, and the peculiar awareness that had taken over this twelve-year-old boy went with it. What in the Imperium had just happened?

As if nothing odd had occurred, Paul bowed as he always did at the end of sparring lessons. “May I be excused?” Duncan silently nodded and watched as Paul dashed from the room, no doubt in search of his mother or Gurney Halleck, or off to his room to put on another one of those filmbooks he liked so much.

The swordmaster had felt the same distinctive unease around Paul that he felt around Bene Gesserit. Duncan knew how to pick his battles, though, and the boy seemed fine and, most importantly, safe enough. Under Jessica’s careful eye, Paul was not likely to harm himself somehow with… whatever that was. It would suffice for now, and later Duncan would press Jessica into a conversation about what sort of alien mess her religious cult had undoubtedly dragged Paul into. While he didn’t have any proof those witches were involved, it seemed highly unlikely that they didn’t have anything to do with it.

If he needed to guard Paul against himself, he would do it. Right now, though, Duncan had a more pressing priority of holding the quadrant together so Leto could return from the Landsraad safely and in victory.

He could feel a headache building behind his eyes. With a resigned sigh, Duncan left the training room.

Ah yes the iconic queer dynamic of "lord and the knight who would die for him and the lord's lady)

Tagging: @redskull199987@itsemy01@blahzaiblahsheep@herebereblogs @spacenotwar @assorted-fandom-things @hogwartshouse @mylenne-16

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mochatea-bunny · 3 months

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so my art style just decided to be really good and idk how to feel <side note i know varry little bout anatomy>

his name is Neptune and im still deciding if hes a dca oc or just a oc cuz he is sun inspired <also hes a robot like FULL robot with emotions so dont give me crap bout him with no pants>

#digital art #dca oc?#idk how to tag this #oc

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boobo13cambridge · 4 months

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Skyfall | Kylian Mbappé

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé | OC

As she gazed out of the window, her eyes lingered on the sprawling cityscape of Paris below, a tapestry of lights and shadows. With a resolute heart, she made a silent vow to herself - to live fiercely, to be the champion for those silenced in the shadows. The path ahead was fraught with challenges, but her resolve was unyielding, a debt of honor to the one who believed in her when doubt cast its long shadow. He had been her mentor, her guardian; he had taken her under his protective wing at a time when skepticism clouded her every step. His unwavering presence had been her fortress, standing valiantly by her side, a solitary defender against a sea of naysayers in those echoing halls of judgment that was the Assas.

A solitary tear, a crystal testament to her inner turmoil, traced a path down her cheek, caressing her skin like a whisper of the past. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, inhaling deeply, though the city's air was tinged with the bitter notes of reality, but mostly pollution (and was that piss?). A sudden, sharp cough, rattled her body, breaking the spell of her reverie. A rueful smile touched her lips as she mused on the cinematic trope of the enigmatic lawyer, solitary and contemplative, gazing out over a city - a scene far more inspiring in a James Bond movie than in real life.

With a finger raised towards the dark sky, the young woman whispered a prayer into the night. 'Vae victis,' she breathed, her words a soft caress against the chaos of the world, 'woe to the conquered.' Her whispered incantation rode the winds, a spectral force, stirring an unseen tremor that resonated through the city, a silent herald to those who would stand against her.

Chapter One

August 12th, 2023

Parc des Princes

8:00 p.m.

One hour before kickoff, Laila was seated in the office of President Nasser Al-Khelaifi, wishing he would just get to the point. She had to admit, Kylian Mbappé possessed an almost uncanny ability to send the club's president into bouts of extreme hypertension. The obsession with the young French star seemed borderline obsessive to Laila, almost creepy. She often marveled at how Mbappé managed to maintain his composure and resist the urge to confront the old geezer. From a business standpoint, however, she could grasp why the PSG president was so adamant about retaining the French prodigy; after all, money makes the world go round.

Despite her desires to be anywhere else, fate had different plans. Her late mentor had insisted that she start her so-called mission with the French football club for reasons he didn’t entirely foreclose. It was in these moments, she felt a deep kinship with Harry Potter who also had a mentor who seemed to leave the world with more questions than answers despite the world going to shit. Even from beyond the grave, he seemed to enjoy watching her struggle in this unexpected role. Being a lawyer for PSG was far from what her teenage self had envisioned for her future. But such was life.

“Je ne peux pas croire qu’après tout ce que nous avons fait pour ce connard, il ne veut pas renouveler. Il veut quoi de plus put-” the president grumbled in his accented french.

“Avec le plus grand respect, Mr. le président,” Laila interjected, “vous devez comprendre que les résultats du PSG après le mercato n’étaient pas satisfaisant. Vous lui avez promis un bon mercato, et pourtant, ils ont été éliminés dès les huitièmes de finale en ligue des champions. Et pourquoi? Parce que vous avez mis tout l'accent sur l'acquisition de stars. Sérieusement, qu’est-ce qui vous a traversé l’esprit en voulant avoir Messi, Neymar, et Mbappé dans la même équipe? Et vous pensez vraiment que Messi allait s’essayer si proche de la retraite?”

The words tumbled out of Laila before she could stop them, her frustration with the president's incessant complaints reaching its peak. Sometimes, he acted like a petulant child.

“Et alors, c’est de ma faute ça ?” President Al-Khelaifi retorted defensively.

“Si vous voulez des stars dans votre équipe, Mr. le Président, vous devez avoir un entraîneur capable de gérer leurs égos astronomiques. Messi venait du FC Barcelone, et il était évident le respect qu’il avait pour le PSG. Malheureusement, un coach comme Christophe Galtier ne fait qu'empirer les choses,” Laila countered.

“En tout cas, passons à autre chose. Je veux que tu ailles voir Mbappé et sa famille et que tu essaies de le convaincre. Ils vont être là ce soir pour voir le match.” (As usual, the president didn’t want to discuss anything that put him in a bad light)

“Peut-être que la première chose à faire serait de lui dire qu’il ne sera plus dans le loft?”

“Oui, oui, dis-lui qu’il peut revenir, mais je veux qu’il reste. C’est compris?”

“Sí, señor,” she replied sarcastically, exiting the room swiftly as she noticed President Al-Khelaifi’s eye begin to twitch.

As Laila stepped out of the president's office, she let out a deep sigh and made her way down to the Salon Louvre. Truly, Nasser should’ve been smarter than this but money does have a way of blinding a person. Regardless, she had a job to do and if it meant that she had to play Nasser’s little games, she would do it. Laila knew exactly what the end goal was and she wasn’t going to get distracted.

As she made her way to the Salon Louvre, where Chef Arnault had promised to reserve some of his renowned crème fraîche and caviar deviled eggs for her, she couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement for the match. Parc des Princes always pulsated with infectious energy and passion, which she adored. The stadium itself was incredible, and the Ultras knew how to light up a stadium. Every time she scrolled through Twitter or Instagram, she saw the tifos they made. The huge banners were truly works of art, and she deeply admired and respected the fans for the effort they put into them.

Her thoughts drifted to her three musketeers, her closest friends, and how carefree they had been before life's harsh realities had intruded. She reminisced about that summer night of August 14th, 2021, when they had come to watch PSG vs Racing Club de Strasbourg, the first match after COVID restrictions were lifted. How different things were back then. She yearned to reconnect and mend the fractures time had caused, but deep down, she knew it was perhaps a futile wish. With her eyes brimming with unshed tears, Laila wandered through the hallways leading to the salon, lost in her memories. Absorbed in her thoughts, she didn't notice the figure in front of her and walked straight into what felt like a very warm wall.

“Tabarnak-,” she swore, instinctively rubbing her nose.

“Pardon, mademoiselle,” a voice apologized.

Startled, Laila looked up and found herself face to face with the French captain. Flustered, she took a step back, momentarily at a loss for words. Kylian Mbappé stood before her, and she couldn't help but notice how strikingly handsome he was. Dressed casually in a white Dior t-shirt and paired with stylish brown pants, which complemented his athletic build. His confident posture and the easy smile playing on his lips added to his striking appearance. He naturally carried a certain air of charisma that left her with a dry throat and a racing heart.

And God, those dimples...

How was she supposed to argue with this living reincarnation of big dick energy? Much less, convince him that he would be better off staying in a club where it was quite unlikely that he would ever win a Champions League, forget a Ballon d’Or. Her professor was so lucky to be lounging in the afterlife, because when she did find him, she would make him pay for putting her in this situation.

Kylian's gaze met Laila's, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes at her evident surprise. "You okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

"Yeah, just... wasn't expecting a human roadblock," Laila joked, trying to mask her nervousness. The corners of his mouth twitched in a smile, those famous dimples making a brief appearance.

"I've been called worse," he chuckled. Kylian's smile took on a knowing edge, his gaze sharp yet playful. "So, Laila Soltani, the lawyer Nasser has brought in to convince me to stay at PSG, eh?"

Laila's eyes widened slightly, her eyebrows arching in surprise."Yes, that's me. How did you know?"

Kylian leaned in slightly, a playful grin spreading across his face. “See, now I’m more inclined to be offended. Athletes can read too, you know?” he teased, nodding towards her badge.

Laila felt her cheeks warm. “Oh, n-no, that’s not... I mean, I wasn’t—” she stammered, her words tumbling over each other in her fluster.

He laughed, a light, easy sound that seemed to echo around them. “I’m just messing around with you. Besides, it’s not every day the president hires someone specifically to deal with me. You must be quite persuasive.”

Laila laughed, a sound more relaxed than she felt. "I'll take that as a compliment, Mr. Mbappé. But yes, that's why I’m here, in part. Though, convincing someone of your caliber to stay... that's a tall order. My greatest adversary so far."

Kylian's eyes glinted with amusement. "Greatest adversary, huh? Sounds like you’re ready for battle. Just remember, I'm not so easily swayed."

"Oh, we'll see about that," Laila retorted, her own eyes sparkling with the challenge. "I've got a few tricks up my sleeve."

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Looking forward to it, Mademoiselle. May the best person win."

With a final chuckle, Kylian turned and strode away, leaving Laila to ponder the intriguing encounter. She shook her head, a smile lingering on her lips, and continued her journey to the salon Louvre. As she entered, she was immediately greeted by the buzz of fans, whose enthusiasm seemed to infect her immediately. The modern design boasted a sleek and refined look, with geometric light fixtures casting a constellation of warm, ambient light across the polished floor.

She found Chef Arnault behind the mini bar, a silver-maned sage in the world of haute cuisine. With the twinkle of seasoned joy in his clear blue eyes, he beckoned Laila over with a broad grin that seemed to know more than it let on.

"Well, well, if it isn't our lawyer," he teased, the light in his eyes matching the mischief in his tone as he took in her flushed appearance. "You look like you've just spent the whole evening sweating in a sauna. Let me guess, Mbappé charm in action?"

Laila rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth turned upward involuntarily. "Is it that obvious?"

"Only to those who know," he chuckled, presenting her with a plate of deviled eggs, each a small culinary work of art with creamy filling and a crown of caviar. "Here, I made these just for you. They might just give you the boost you need for the evening to deal with the capitaine."

Laila decided to just brush off Arnault's teasing and, not wanting to wait another second, she tossed back a whole deviled egg. The taste was amazing—so good it almost made her moan right there at the bar.

With a quick thanks to the chef, she slipped through the crowd of fans as she heard Michel Montana's voice encouraging the Ultras to cheer for the team. Their chatter was just noise against the hum in her head as she moved to her seat. It was pretty close to the president's spot, giving her an incredible view of the field.

She dropped into her seat, taking in the low buzz of the stadium and the distant echo of the players getting their game faces on. The excitement was kicking in. This wasn't just another day at the office for Laila; it was like stepping onto a chessboard where every move counted. The match was about to start, and she wasn't just thinking about the football. It was game time on all fronts.

___________________________________________________________

A/N: Hello, my lovelies. I'm back 😘

#kylian mbappe fanfic #kylian mbappe smut #kylian imagines #kylian mbappe #kylian mbappé #kylian mbappe imagine #kylian mbappe x y/n #kylian mbappe angst

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rewuyuu · 2 months

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Rewuuuu <3

I'm so happy you posted another Face Stealer art, he's such an intriguing guy! Can you tell us a little more about him? You mentioned he lost his face as a child. Is this a common magical thing in the world he's from? Do you intend his jokester personality traits nowadays to be a result from how he dealt with that loss, which would also explain his attachment issues ...? Oh oh! And also, what do you think would happen to him psychology-wise once he gets his face back? What purpose will his life hold then?

Sorry bout the onslaught, I ADORE his cute face.

i'm so glad you like my oc (and their face)!!

i admittedly haven't done that much worldbuilding for the place he's from, but (as of now) it's quite similar to our modern world, except that there's all kinds of supernatural beings living among humans. you can recognize some of them (because of characteristics like horns or wings), but others blend in with the human crowd better.

as a young child, face stealer unfortunately happened to encounter a more dangerous kind of supernatural entity that had the ability to take away human faces. that's actually a rare encounter even in that world, and most humans aren't even aware of such a thing existing. as a result, the faceless child wasn't recognized by their own family, and was left all alone with nowhere to go.

a different type of supernatural being took pity on the child, and granted them the power to acquire faces so that they could get their face (and life) back. however, they didn't manage to find the thief. a lot of time passed, and they forgot what they originally looked like - and on top of that, when a face gets taken away, it ages according to the flow of time together with the new owner (side note, it's actually the entire physical appearance that gets taken - i call it 'face' because i feel like this phrasing sounds nicer than 'appearance stealer'). it's like searching for a needle in a haystack.

face stealer is convinced that things will simply feel right when they finally find the original face and 'try' it on. however, the plausibility of that is very questionable. over time, face stealer has amassed quite the collection of other people's faces that they can swap between at will. ironically, they ended up becoming the same kind of monster that took everything from them as a child - the only difference is that face stealer was originally a human (at this point, they may actually be much closer to being one of those supernatural entities rather than a human).

#ask #oc #face stealer

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treacheryinblue · 17 days

Text

Chapter 1/?

× Elysium (noun) : a place or condition of ideal happiness. type of: fictitious place, imaginary place, mythical place.

Word Count: 4.1k

An introduction of sorts.

A Noah Sebastian x OC Series

× Summary: Noah and his new found (sort of) friend, Persephone, battle the trivial ins and outs of being teenagers in a world that doesn't accept you. They survive together all the way into adulthood - with bouts of loneliness included - where the world is still a fickle bitch.

× Warnings!: language, violence, slowburn, friends to lovers to enemies back to friends, rinse and repeat (not even in that order), eventual smut, sexual themes, etc. Each chapter will have its own set of separate warnings.

× Author Notes: ( 1 ) Any time within the story before 2016, Persephone is still a minor, therefor sexual mentions will be kept brief and to a minimum. Nothing crude will be mentioned in a descriptive manner until she is 18+ in the story. ( 2 ) Piggybacking off of that, Noah is only two years older than her. ( 3 ) Since most personal facts about the guys are not widely known, I will be adding my own background info to them, as well as switching up/deleting real life facts we may already be aware of.

× Chapter Warnings!: language, brief sexual themes

SUMMER OF 2014

SUNDAY JUNE 22nd

PERSEPHONE

Summers in Virginia could be brutal, but this one in particular felt especially heinous. The sun was a vile orb that beat down on her skin, leaving it hot to the touch and also faintly shining with perspiration. Typically she loved the sun and the way it would make her feel, but today? Well, not so much. Despite this, she tried her best to ignore her own minuscule issues and instead focus on the words being spoken to not only her, but also the friends she surrounded herself with. They all sat around one of the outside tables at Ruffilo’s, a casual diner-like restaurant they enjoyed frequenting in the afternoons. The food was decent, and it was also one of the only establishments that wouldn't kick out teenagers who lingered too long.

“Seph? Earth to, Seph! Come in, Seph!”

“Huh?” She was quick to snap out of her little daze, her head turning towards the voice echoing her name. Maisie Linwood, her best friend since first grade, stared back at her with an arched brow and an annoyed expression. One thing to know about Maisie, she could out bitch anyone with just a cut of her eyes. Persephone figured that's probably who she picked up the same habit from years ago.

“Sorry, it's just really hot out here.” A hand was then shoved into her now empty glass to retrieve a piece of ice, that of which she began to drag along the back of her neck.

Ahhh, yes, that was nice.

“Okay, well, I need you to, like, be here with us. We're trying to figure out the details of Mason’s birthday.”

Mason being Maisie’s twin brother, and this was quite obvious when you were to look at them. Same eyes, same nose, same little beauty mark right off to the side of their cheek. Same godforsaken ‘better than thou’ attitude. And yes, they were fully aware of how horrible being named Maise and Mason was.

“Oh, right, I won't be able to go. I told you that. My parents are making me go with them to the lake that weekend.”

The ice continued to drag along her overheated skin, now shifting to the front of her neck and down her chest. Could she at least get a breeze or something? Fuck.

“Or…you can tell them you don't want to and then we can have the party at your place.” Maisie challenged with a smug smirk, as if daring anyone to tell her otherwise. “Your house does have the best pool.”

There it was. Maisie’s way of getting the things she wanted by catering to people’s egos. She wanted to say that it never worked on her, but then she would be lying.

“What the fuck are you staring at, freak? Are you seriously checkin’ out my girl?”

Thankfully, the topic was abruptly changed by Mason’s sudden outburst of anger. By the way, she was dating Mason. Kind of. It wasn't technically official…but whatever. Honestly, she didn't care one way or the other.

“I…uh…no! I was just-”

Seph squinted from the bright glare of the sun off the side of the restaurant when she turned to see what all the fuss was about. She could make out the tall figure of the guy who had been serving them, a dumbfounded look currently overtaking his narrow features. It seemed as if she wasn't the only one surprised by Mason’s show of aggression.

“Wait, what's happening?” She sat forward a bit, a hand lifting to shield over her eyes to get a better look at the commotion. Mason was now standing a couple of feet from the guy, obviously ready to go if the moment called for it. Seph could only heavily sigh, eyes rolling at his embarrassing and rather annoying reaction to…whatever had happened. That was something she still hadn't caught.

“Scrawny little freak here was just staring at you, Seph. Watching you with that fucking ice!”

Ah, so that's what the problem was? Seriously?

“I was just coming out to get the glass for a refill…” he tried to defend, but there was no knocking any sense into Mason when he got started. Just another trait him and Maisie shared, and one that she truly disliked.

“Leave him alone, Mason. Can you just let him do his job?”

Her intrusion of the conversation had given the guy a spare moment to scurry away, jaw clenched and head shaking as he did. She felt bad for him because she knew how aggravating it could be to be on the receiving end of Mason’s teenage rage, even more so when it came to his possessive nature over something that wasn't his.

“You're really going to defend him, Seph?”

Mason was now looking at her, hands thrown out to his sides in a stance of disbelief. She merely shrugged, giving him a ‘who cares?’ look before settling back in her seat. It didn't seem as if he was as capable of dropping the topic as she was, so he continued to stand there…just staring in anger. She could almost see the fumes radiating off his head like he was a furious little cartoon character.

Hilarious.

With a heavy sigh, Seph snatched her glass from the table and stood up, free hand simultaneously adjusting the hem of her shorts. “I'm going to get my refill and no, I don't need your help.” She spat at Mason, earning a scoff from Maisie and another girl within their friend group. It didn't bother her in the slightest.

Inside Ruffilo’s was at least twenty degrees cooler, and it felt so nice that she actually sighed in relief. The lack of sun now beating down on her had given her the opportunity to clear the haze from her mind and really take note of the situation. She realized that she recognized the guy as she approached the counter…but from where? With his back to her, Seph began to silently rack her brain. He was talking in hushed tones to another guy that appeared to be about the same age, but shorter and with darker hair. Something was telling her that it was his family who owned the restaurant, though she wasn’t entirely sure as to how she knew that.

The shorter guy looked at her from over the other guy’s shoulder, quickly nodding in her direction to signal her presence to him. As he turned, she adjusted her attention and their eyes locked with ease.

“Hey…” she softly spoke, a slight smile pulling at her lips. “I'm sorry about Mason…he can be a real dick sometimes.”

“Yeah…I kind of gathered that.”

Seph slowly nodded, unsure of what to say now. She tore her gaze from his, allowing it to fall down to the glass she still held. Did she even want a refill? Or had this been some ploy against herself to give the guy an apology?

The clearing of his throat garnered her attention again, and she looked up just in time to see him motioning towards the glass. “Did you want a refill?”

Once more nodding, she pulled the straw from the glass before extending it out to him. Her arms crossed over her chest now, the end of the straw being held to her lips for her to absentmindedly chew on as she waited. Seph could feel eyes on her, the weight of them rather obvious. Glancing up, she noticed the other guy eying her, as if trying to size her up.

Where did she know them from?

Then, like a light switch being turned on, it finally clicked.

“Noah,” she pointed the end of her straw to the taller guy, nodding. “We used to go to school together, right?”

It was all finally starting to come back to her. She knew she had recognized him from somewhere, though putting her finger on it took longer than she would've thought. Seph had left their public high school after freshmen year, her parents instead deciding to enroll her into a new private school that had been built. ‘It’s where all your friends will be going' they tried to explain to her, like she really needed convincing when she knew she didn't have a choice in the matter to begin with.

“Uh, yeah, I think I was a year ahead of you.”

Noah nodded as he passed her now full glass of water back her way, fresh ice included. He opened his mouth to say something else, but was quickly cut off by the other guy.

“Two years…we were two years ahead of her.”

“Dude…” Noah sighed, giving his friend a look that she wasn't quite sure how to explain.

Persephone softly chuckled, brows raised while looking back and forth between the two guys. As much as she wanted to stand there within the air conditioning, watching the two of them bicker, she knew she couldn't linger for much longer. It was only a matter of time before one of her friends came looking for her and the last thing she wanted was for another scene to break out.

“Okay, well, I'm going to go and leave you guys to it.” She took a sip from her water, though her smile lingered. “Sorry again about…”

Noah shook his head, waving it off in a nonchalant manner. “Dicks will forever be dicks.”

“I'll see you around, yeah?” After taking a couple of steps backwards, Seph then turned on her heel to make a beeline for the side door she had previously entered from.

“I'm Nick, by the way!”

Another laugh easily flowed from her, a hand lifting to wave back. “Bye, Nick!”

NOAH

“Persephone Hill, Noah? Really?”

“What?”

“Dude, she's like fucking royalty of Richmond. Her dad is some big real estate guy, owns half the buildings on this street alone.”

“And?” Noah looked to his best friend after having passed a receipt to another patron of the restaurant and wishing them a good day. “Just because her dad is some big shot, that means I can't talk to her?”

“No, but it does mean you can't fucking ogle her goodies out in public.”

He grimaced at Nick’s choice of words but tried his best to laugh it off, head shaking. “I wasn't…doing that!” Noah tossed the balled up unwanted receipt at Nick with enough force that it hit him square in the forehead, but bounced off to roll along the floor. “Who the hell says it like that anyway?”

Okay, maybe he had been doing that. Who could blame him, though? He took in a sharp breath as he tried to think of anything but the way the melted ice had dripped down her neck, getting lost behind her tank top as it slid into her cleavage. Fuck. Noah did a discreet tug of his jeans when the memory caused a stirring within, instead opting to focus on the hot plates of food that were being slid his way for distribution to tables.

“I'm just saying, okay? My dad had done business with him a couple of years back and said he's a major asshole. Never say I didn't warn you.”

THURSDAY JUNE 26th

PERSEPHONE

“You look like you could use a sugar rush.”

A set of long fingers set down a stereotypical milkshake glass in front of her, the contents of it a deep pink color. Her brows furrowed in slight confusion for a split second, before she finally looked up to see Noah standing there. He appeared to be just as tired as she felt, though she decided to not call him out for it. Instead, she offered a slight smile of appreciation.

“How could you tell?” She joked while ripping the paper from the straw before shoving it into the milkshake. “And how did you know strawberry was my favorite?”

“Well, you see…” he rubbed at the back of his neck after glancing at where Nick stood behind the counter. “Nick used all the chocolate syrup earlier for some little kids, so I couldn't do chocolate. Vanilla seemed too basic, which left strawberry as the only option. I guess you could say…I just got lucky?”

Seph gave him a single thumbs up, her mouth now occupied with the sugary treat she was happily sipping. “This might just be the pick-me-up I needed to get through this work, so thanks.”

“Yeah, I thought it was kind of late for you to be here.”

“Shit, sorry. Are you guys about to close? I can totally pack things up if so.” She licked over her lips to rid them of any milkshake remnants before she began to reach for her things. Noah held his hands out, motioning for her to stop, chuckling to himself as he did.

“You're good, you're good. I promise. Still got about an hour.”

That was when Nick came sauntering over, a basket of fries in his hand that he was digging through. He leaned against the side of the booth, bright eyes glancing back and forth between herself and Noah.

“It typically dies down around eight on weekdays, so there isn't shit to do for a bit.” Nick then nodded towards the math equations she had written out on her notebook, still chomping away at his fries. “Calculus? Wouldn't a library be better for homework?”

Noah sighed, an elbow angling out just a bit to nudge at his friend. Again the two shared a silent look, almost like they were having a conversation within their minds that she wasn't privy to.

“You would think, but the private rooms are always booked and most people don't know that you're supposed to be quiet in libraries. Shocking, right?”

“I bet your house has a grand ol' study area.”

What was Nick getting at? She couldn't really tell if he was genuinely asking or if he was somehow mocking her in his own sly way. Considering Noah's silence, Seph was going to assume it was the latter.

“Uh…” her hands rubbed along the top of her thighs, eyes glancing along her math work that was all beginning to jumble together. “It's too quiet there…makes it just as hard to focus.”

Also, the change of scenery was nice. She was tired of seeing the same walls everyday in her house, and trying to study at any of her friends’ homes would've been just as impossible. They would've become too distracted with gossip and mindless chatter.

“Hey, Nick,” she began as the end of her pencil lightly tapped against her notebook. “Can I get an order of fries too? Thanks.” If he wanted to throw a bit of mockery her way, then she would gladly do the same with her own style of attitude. The bittersweet kind where she was smiling, but her words held a slight hint of venom. Nick paused, his chewing beginning to slow as they merely stared at one another. Without another word, he nodded, and then went off to get her order prepared.

“He's sensitive, you know,” Noah joked, pointing in the direction his friend had wandered off.

“Oh, I'm sure he can manage to get what he gives.”

Persephone adjusted the pencil in her hand, now beginning to continue her work. She didn't know why she was even attempting to because there was no way she’d be able to focus. Her attention span had run out at least an hour ago, and not even a strawberry milkshake could bring it back. As she pretended to work, Noah was doing the same. He began to clean the tables in her surrounding area, his lanky tattooed arms drawing her attention in ways she never thought possible. Seph remained silent, though she found herself watching him. Why? She had no idea. Noah was far from her type, or at least what she assumed her type was, but it wasn't like she was interested to begin with. Maybe he would make a decent friendly acquaintance — someone she could say ‘hi’ to on the street in passing.

“Did those hurt?” Seph motioned with her pencil to his arm, his tattoos being the topic of her curiosity.

Noah glanced to the limb, his shoulders shrugging nonchalantly. “Nah, not too bad. Nothing I wouldn't be able to handle again.”

She slowly nodded, the end of her pencil now tucked between her teeth. She continued to allow her gaze to travel along the designs before taking in a deep breath and lowering her attention back down to her dreaded calculus. Ugh, this was almost like she was torturing herself.

“Do you have any?”

“Hm?” Seph glanced up through her lashes at him.

“Tattoos. Do you have any?”

This inquiry caused her to snort out a laugh, now fully looking across at Noah in disbelief. He must not know anything about her family, and she was actually thankful for this. It was so annoying to have to talk to people who thought they already knew everything about you, when really, they knew nothing.

“No,” she finally replied, shaking her head. “My parents are very old school. They said that my body is a temple and if I desecrate it in any way then I'm not allowed my trust fund or inheritance.”

“Well…shit. That's brutal.”

Persephone shrugged, the notebook before her now being closed since she figured she wasn't going to be getting any more work done. Not that she was complaining. “Yeah, it's a little fucked. I mean, my mom won't even let me have more than two holes in my ears.”

“Sounds like some high standards to live up to.”

Noah's words caught her a little off guard. Her lips pursed as she carefully slipped her belongings into her bag, situating everything just right so they'd sit correctly. She didn't say anything in regards to the statement, mostly because she wasn't sure how to respond, but also because Nick had dropped the basket of fries in front of her. Persephone flashed him a wide grin, her fingers picking up one of the crispy fries to bite the end off.

“You're a peach, truly.”

FRIDAY JULY 4th

NOAH

This was not how he saw the night going. It had been change up after change up, until his plans had been ruined and he was forced to work another shift at Ruffilo’s. He didn't complain, though, at least not to anyone but himself. The last thing he wanted was to seem ungrateful for what Nick’s family had done for him, and what they continued to do everyday. He knew you'd never find another family as giving as Nick’s, so he did all he could to help them out, even if it meant canceling his plans. Nick offered to work with him, but Noah refused. It wasn't going to be busy since they didn't serve alcohol, so with it being Independence Day, the majority of Richmond would be out at the fireworks and then partying with a beer. Just as their forefathers would've wanted.

And just as he had predicted, it was dead by seven that night. Fireworks started around eight, waiting just long enough for the sky to get mostly dark. Noah could see the flashes of light from over the buildings, which he stood and stared at for much longer than anticipated. There was a pressure building within his chest, though. He could feel his hands becoming clammy and the rapid beating of his heart picking up more and more. He had to force himself to look away from the fireworks and start doing something else — anything to occupy his mind. Ever since the accident, bright lights and loud noises had been a trigger for him. He was working through it with his therapist weekly, but the progression was slow. Much slower than he would've liked.

Phone in hand, Noah stood in the kitchen of the restaurant, now mindlessly scrolling through Instagram. It helped calm his mind to see senseless things that people posted on their socials, and the things he was interested in, did well as a distraction. There was one distraction in particular he hadn't seen coming, though. Only a day or so previous, Persephone had insisted they follow each other. She had thousands of followers, while he only had a couple hundred, so he figured it was no big deal. Maybe she liked having a huge audience studying and judging her social life. But because of their mutual following, he was now graced with her presence on his Instagram timeline.

Noah swallowed as he came across the picture. She appeared happy, wearing a wide smile that took up most of her face, clad in the typical red, white, and blue colors for this particular holiday. In her hands, she held sparklers, both of which were situated up towards the sky with the pose she took in front of a pool. Others were seen behind her, one of which he recognized as Mason, the asshole from before. This was when Noah closed out of the app, his phone then being tucked away in his back pocket.

The next couple of hours went by rather slowly. He had maybe three patrons come in, but none that lingered for longer than necessary. Still, he took his time cleaning up and closing, even opting to tell the cook he could leave and he’d finish up. Nick had called him a couple of times, the voices of their friends obvious in the background, and he of course promised to drop by once he was off. Despite this, he didn't rush. After his near panic attack earlier, Noah just wanted to go home and lay in bed.

Unfortunately, he would have to wait a bit longer before being able to.

It was nearly eleven when he heard knocking on the front door of the restaurant. All the lights were off except those over the kitchen, so he had no idea why someone would think they were open. Did that stop him from poking his head out to see who it was? No. And this is why people die in horror movies. He was a walking cliché.

There was another knock, this one slightly louder than the last. Heavily sighing, Noah took a couple of slow steps towards the kitchen opening that led out into the main area, his upper body leaning over just enough for him to see straight forward. Standing outside was a rather familiar shape, the white dress being the first thing that caught his eye. He remembered it from his Instagram scroll hours prior.

Seph?

Noah rushed towards the front and wasted no time in unlocking the door for her, which he then held open. In walked the young blonde, her arms hugging herself. She no longer wore the smile from the picture earlier, but instead her cheeks were stained with glittery tears due to the festive makeup she had applied.

“Shit, Noah, I'm sorry. I- I didn't know where else to go or who I could talk to and I just- I saw your car and-”

Shaking his head, he placed his hands on her shoulders in an attempt to soothe and calm her ramblings. She tried a deep breath, but the hiccups from her tears prevented her from fully doing so.

“Hey, no, it's okay. What's wrong? What happened?”

The fact that Persephone had come to him was shocking, to say the least. Were they friends? He wasn't sure if he would label them as such, but maybe it was different for her. They did have long conversations every time she came to the diner, which just so happened to be picking up in frequency ever since the ice incident.

“Mason and I…we got into a fight…” she sniffed, further fighting back her tears just so she could properly breathe.

What was it about this asshole type that girls seemed to flock to? He would never understand it.

“He, um…he was just really mean, yeah? He blew up at me…caused this huge scene in front of everyone. It was so fucking embarrassing.”

Noah could tell she was holding something back, but he wasn't going to pry. If Seph didn't want to tell him the full story, then she didn't have to. Either way, he would be there for her as much as she would allow.

Nodding, his thumbs rubbed slowly along the bare skin of her shoulders that he still grasped. He eventually led her to a booth and brought her a glass of water, giving her as much time as she needed to gather herself. Although he wanted to know what actually happened, he knew this wasn't the time for it.

“Are you okay?” Noah finally asked after a few minutes. Her tears had ceased, but he noticed how she was still absentmindedly scratching at the side of her thigh. He knew an anxiety tick when he saw one. After all, he had plenty of his own.

Without answering, Seph finally looked at him. “Would you be able to take me home? Please?”

CHAPTER TWO JUMP

#bad omens #noah sebastian #fanfiction #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfiction #fan fiction #noah sebastian x oc #noah sebastian x original character #bad omens fic #bad omens smut #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian smut #bad omens fan fiction #noah sebastian fan fiction

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shiny-jr · 9 months

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HOW DO YOU WRITE SO GOOD?? (tutorial/tips pls)

your writing is IMMACULATE AND SOOOOO, words can't even convey the feelings I get whenever I read your works

Lol, uh, brain makes things.

I got a similar message about characterization, so I'm going to try to include as many tips and personal tricks that I can in this post. I'll bolden the words that summarize each part, that way it's not too much of a mess and people can quickly find what they're looking for.

I'll mention CHARACTERIZATION first, just to check it off the list. So, the only characters I write for besides my own personal ocs, are the cast from twst. Compared to other series, the cast isn't that big, but it's still a pretty sizable cast. You got a mysterious and ominous fae prince with a penchant for speaking in a refined manner that at times sounds menacing, with a model/actor/singer beauty that also speaks more on the elegant side of things, but on the opposite spectrum you have a beastman who's arrogant and has bouts of laziness but is in no way incompetent, oh and don't forget the gloomy shut-in that weirdly enough has strange boosts of confidence and is snarky in his replies at times despite being very introverted and lacking in confidence. There's so many different characters, but I see them get mischaracterized very often. Here are some of the things I do to try and avoid making this mistake...

Look at references. This one may seem obvious, but I feel like people may not do this and just write what they want in the moment without much consideration. Often times if I find myself stuck and wondering what a character might do in response to something, I'll put a pause on my work and look up references to look at. By references, I mean things such as real dialogue from whatever media they may be in. In the case of twst, I'll go back to chapters the character appears in, or even listen to their voice lines. If I'm really stuck, I'll resort to looking at other posts like fanfics or fanart, and by then I usually get an idea. (I take a lot of liberties as a yandere writer)

Similar characters. There are times when I see one character, and think that they act very similarly to another character from somewhere else. In that case, thinking of the other character may help as well, but you have to be a little careful here since there will be obvious differences that could lead to mischaracterization.

Compare. In this one, I think it's important that I highlight that I do not mean to compare your entire work to someone else's. What I mean here is, if you have a writer who you like and you think they write the characters very well, then look at their work. What exactly about their work makes it seem like the character is well written? Maybe they use certain words, or describe certain things? Try and take a note of that. Unfortunately there is a lot of mischaracterization, so if you see some, it might actually be worth taking a note of so you know what you want to avoid when you're writing.

Take a step back. When I'm done writing, I read over the entire thing. I actually do multiple rereads, sometimes in the middle of writing, but I think the most important one is when everything is completed. When you think the draft is finished and you're almost ready to share, just read over it. Try to imagine that you're someone else, a reader who just found the post and began to read it. If you were another reader looking over this, would you be content with the way the characters are written or would you think that it needs improvement?

WORDS AND GRAMMAR. Ah, yes, I still make mistakes here often, I won't lie. I don't use too many sites to help with this. Just two that I can think of off the top of my head.

WordHippo. My savior. I use this site for everything, from writing silly little posts to writing important essays for college. It helps with everything from synonyms, antonyms, definitions, rhymes, etc. But I mainly use it for synonyms. For example, when I write for a character that speaks more meticulously or elegantly, you know, like the type of character that uses bigger/uncommon words, I'll use this site. Like, I know what I want the character to say or do, but I only know a simple word that might be boring or repetitive after a while, right? So using this site, I just find synonyms that fit way better and match the tone I'm trying to use.

Autocorrect. So, usually I'll mainly write on google docs, but this feature is on most sites by now. The system will automatically correct a mistake or highlight it if it thinks a mistake was made, which has caught some errors I've made on multiple occasions. But it's not entirely reliable, because sometimes something you wrote might actually be right but it changes it to something else. So just be aware if you do use autocorrect and read over for mistakes anyways.

And now, for MUSIC. I always listen to music when I write, it's like a necessity now. But it's a bit of a double-edged sword for two reasons. One: songs with lyrics tend to distract me. This may not be the case for everyone, but most of the time if I play a song with lyrics, chances are that I'll end up focusing on the lyrics instead of writing. Not all the time, but most of the time. Two: just trying to search for good music to listen to can lead you falling down a rabbit hole, because then you're just there scrolling and deciding what you want to listen to.

Here's a sorta long list of some songs I've been listening to in the past few weeks that keep me focused. Yes, it's a mess of different songs. You can totally tell what I've been watching/like just by the songs alone. The two at the top when I heard them at full blast in an IMAX theater for the first time literally had me like–– (WHEN I TELL YOU LUDWIG G. MAKES THE BEST MUSIC THAT INSPIRES ME)

Can You Hear The Music - Ludwig Göransson

Quantum Mechanics - Ludwig Göransson

Destroyer of Worlds - Ludwig Göransson

American Prometheus - Ludwig Göransson

Teacher's Pet - Ludwig Göransson, Joseph Shirley

Mando Is Back - Ludwig Göransson

A Walk in the Skies - Joe Hisaishi

Sophie in Exile - Joe Hisaishi

The Boy Who Swallowed a Star - Joe Hisaishi

Deep Sea Pastures - Joe Hisaishi

Mother Sea - Joe Hisaishi

Town by A Cove - Joe Hisaishi

Fujimoto - Joe Hisaishi

Ponyo Flies - Joe Hisaishi

Across the Spider-Verse (Intro) - Daniel Pemberton

Spider-Woman (Gwen Stacy) - Daniel Pemberton

Vulture Meets Culture - Daniel Pemberton

Guggenheim Assemble - Daniel Pemberton

#shiny speaks #advice

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trashland-llamas · 1 month

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Lost in a Maze

Note; This is the same sibling of sin from the fic of mine, Sodo or Dewdrop? who I decided to turn into an oc named Florence, Flora for short. Will be making an intro post for them sometime soon.

-- -- --

Florence was currently hiding from the sister who was encased with their care. They wanted to play outside longer but were unfortunately forced to take a bath after getting their clothes all muddy. ‘Florence! Come back here right now.’ Their caregiver wasn’t truly mad, simply stressed with everyone on her plate. In Flora’s haste, they ended up lost in the maze that was the abbey’s halls. Ending up near the ghoul’s den.

It was when they bumped into someone’s legs that the waterworks started. ‘Hey, it’s okay. How’d you get all the way out here?’ The ghoul helping them stand back up. Kneeling down to Flora’s height so his stature wouldn’t scare the little one. ‘I just want-wanted to play out-side a bit longer but sis-ter said I had to take a bath. But I didn’t want to so I ran. A-and now I’m lost!’ Flora sobbed, hiccuping through their words. Clutching onto his antlers.

‘Well, how bout we kill two birds with one stone then? I can get Aurora to help you with the bath, Phantom probably has some bath toys he wouldn’t mind you borrowing. Then we can help you find your way back.’ Mountain rubbed small circles on Flora’s back as she cried. Encouraging her to let it all out as sometimes you have to cry it out before fixing the situation.

‘Rora?’ They had met the ghoulette before in passing. Their caregiver letting them help the ghoulette in chores. Nodding, Mountain stood up. ‘I bet all that crying tired you out.’ He remarked as Flora sat, perched on his hip. ‘I’ll wake you when we get there.’ Mountain left out the part that the den was less than a foot away.

‘Everyone better be decent, we got a lost sibling.’ Mountain called out before entering. Laughing as he heard a few falls. ‘Aww, it’s little Flora,’ Aurora cooed, taking them from the Earth ghoul. ‘What the rascal do this time?’

'Florence ran away from bath time. Which, can you pretty, pretty please, with an extra cherry on top help me with?' Mountain begged with his hands clasped towards his chest. 'You don't have to beg. Of course, I'll help. Haven't seen this one in forever.' Watching as their eyes slowly opened. 'Rora!'

'Hello sleepy head. Are you ready for bath time now? There'll be bubbles and rubber ducks.' Smiling when they perked up at the mention of bubbles. 'Okay.' Aurora led them to the bathroom, placing Flora on the sink counter. Watching as the bubbles foamed up and the water rose. The ghoulette splashing her hand to make sure it was the right temperature. Mountain handing her one of Cumulus' old shirts to use as a nightgown, realizing that none of the group had any spare clothing for the kiddo. 'Thanks Mountain.' Waiting for the door to close before helping Florence into the bath. Turning the facets off.

'Tip your head back for me, sweetheart.' Aurora used one of her hands to guard Florence's eyes. Their pruned hands splashing the duck into the water. Making noises as it dive-bombed. The suds running down the kiddo's back, the bath water going murky.

'How about we get out and into some comfy pj's?' Aurora softly asked after seeing them yawn, the duck now bobbing afloat. Nodding, Aurora unplugged the tub. Patting the little dry. 'Can you raise your arms for me?' Maneuvering the armholes around their hands, letting the shirt fall.

'Now, let's go find Mountain so we can get you to bed.'

#not x reader #my ocs #oc; florence #sibling of sin oc #ghost bc oc #mountain ghoul #aurora ghoulette #nameless ghouls #ghost bc #ghost the band #oc & character

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whorhees · 1 year

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Ghost From Your Past {Creed III} Pt. II

Adonis x wife! Oc x onesided! Dame

Summary: Jade and Dame hang out one on one since he’s been out. Jade is trying to avoid dwelling on the past but it’s so hard not too

Authors note: I have no clue what rode I want to travel down with these two. I have so many ideas but oh my god I’m trying to decide what’s right.

“Hey”

Adonis looked up at the girl standing in front of his desk, a finger pressed in the middle of it. “What happened last night? Did Dame win?” Adonis took a shaky look up at her, unsure of what to say. “Uh…Yeah. He did” Jade smiled as she pulled up a seat. “He’s so amazing, ugh I just know he’s gonna flaunt it when we hang out later” Adonis nodded his head slowly. He really didn’t have the heart to break it to her.

“Why don’t you like talking to me anymore?” Jade tilts her head as her finger circled his desk. “We use to talk all the time” Adonis scoffed. “You mean I use to talk all the time? You never talked” “That doesn’t mean I didn’t listen or studied you” Adonis picked his head up to stare into her green eyes. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Jade flinched at his harsh language. “It means…I can tell when something is on your mind…” Jade reached into her bag and pulled out her yellow pen.

“Remember how I use to draw on your arm to relax your mind?” Adonis nodded and extended out his hand, unclenching his hand as jade gently grabbed his arm. Her thumb ran on the crease bicep and arm, tapping the pen on her desk. “You don’t have to tell me now, but you gotta tell me something” Jade began to outline something on his forearm. “So?”

“I’m sorry…”

Jade didn’t want to get out of bed, she wanted to hide from him and her obligations. She scrolled through her phone, her friends all texting her simultaneously.

Sierra🌸

Yo, did you see ykw?

Sev 🎈

Yo nigga came around askin bout you

Sekani 🎧

Bro is that really Damian???

Jade threw her phone back against the pillow, groaning. “Ugh…” She sat up and stretched, turning to look at the bright blue sky. She had things to do, she can’t just hide from the past in her room. Sudden vibration was felt on her bed, and without a second thought, she reached for her phone and answered.

“Hey”

“Hey Jade”

She paused, cursing herself mentally for not checking the caller ID. “Who dis?” Jade stood up and walked out toward her window. Her hip cocked to the side as she stared out at the city below.

“Oh, it’s uh me. Damian?”

Oh.

“Oh!” Jade laughed awkwardly. “How did you get my number?”

“I asked Seven for it when I met back up with him”

Of course, Seven did. He never respected her wishes once she took off. “Ah. Well, it’s good that you have it now. How are you Dami?” She could hear him chuckle through the phone.

“I’m good peaches. Listen, is there a chance for us to hang out together? Diamond and Precious again?” Jade sucks her teeth, rubbing the side of her neck.

“If you don’t mind coming along to pick up the twins with me”

“Nah! Of course, I don’t mind!” Jade smiles and walked into her closet. “Where do you want me to pick you up at?”

“No, I’ll come to you. I’ll be there in twenty” Dame hung up, and Jade placed her phone on the seat in her closet. It shouldn’t be a big deal, he’s an old friend. She went through all her clothes, pulling out her black tracksuit. She walks out of her closet and threw the tracksuit on her bed. It was her favorite one that Adonis had bought her, it had his first name embroidered in cursive small while the butt of the pants had his last name bedazzled in huge letters.

She grabbed her towel and ran into the bathroom to get a quick shower.

“Okay, that’s it…” Jade grabbed her clip and pinned up her braids halfway. Nothing too much, she still looked great. She grabbed her purse and walked up out of her room. She could hear the knocking from downstairs. Jade finally stood at the door, opening it to reveal Damian.

“Jesus, I was out there for five minutes” Jade rolled her eyes and moved the man down the steps. “Not even. Come on, I gotta pick the kids from school” “Oh, I get to run errands with you now?” Dame chuckled as Jade locked the front door behind her. She walked down the steps to her car, turning to the man who still stood at the top of the steps. “You comin'?”

“…Yeah” Jade unlocked her car door and climbed into her truck. “Damn, you sittin real pretty up there” Dame got into the passenger seat. “I thought you would have a butler driving you around” “Nah, I like doing my own things too much.” Dame nodded as they finally pulled out of the gates house.

“Are you still adjusting to change?” Jade asked, side-eying the man in the passenger seat. “Yeah, especially between us three you know?” Dame lets out a sigh as he looked at all of the mansions passing by. “Listen, I appreciate you visiting me for the time that you did while I was gone” Jade stops at a red light. “I thought…I thought it was really fucked up what the court did to you…”

“Twenty years?!” She stood up with tears in her eyes, and her father had to pull her back down before she busted out in tears again.

“You know what’s funny? I wanted to become a lawyer because of you…but when I did study, and try, I could never. I was never smart, like…” Jade laughs as she turns once the light turned green. “I could never pass the bar test. I tried sooo many times” Dame stared at her as she rambled on. “Hold on…You went to law school?”

“Yeah..? I mean the modeling thing was a way for me to pay for everything. But it kinda took off so, I guess I shifted focus after my third attempt at the exam” Jade puts on her blinker and turns into the circle of the school where all the parents were lined up in the area for their kids. “Wow, I…” Dame was at a loss for words, things he didn’t know about the girl. “I appreciate it. I’ll pay you back”

“By?”

Dame grins, placing his hand on her arm. “By winning the belt. Like I told you I would” Jade pulled up at the front of the loop, unlocking the doors for Honey and Blue to climb in. “Dame…I’m just worried for you” She turns in her seat towards him. “You know, we’re getting old. And, fighting like you use to-“ “I fight the same.” He interrupted, turning his head towards the window. “Take hits hard, Punch harder” The twins came running to the car, Blue helping his sister get in before he got in himself.

“Hey! How was your day babies?” Jade smiled looking at the visor mirror at her children. “Good, honey had a good day” Blue smiled, and soon turned to look at the man in the passenger seat. “Do you want me to drop you off at the gym?” Jade asked as she pulled out of the school circle. “Yeah, I promised him I’d be there at a certain time”

Jade began driving to the gym, the rest of the ride was in silence for the most part. “Oh uh, Adonis is having this party and it’s going to have our old friend Bianca presenting a new song. You down to come?” She turns onto the busy street, the gym was right up ahead. “Of course! What, I gotta wear something nice?” Jade laughed and nodded. “If you don’t have nice clothes, I can get you some if you want” She pulled into the gym parking lot.

Dame grabbed his bag from between his legs, gazing over at Jade once again. “You’ve always been a sweetheart. Look out for yourself, and your mini-mes” He climbed out of the car and closed the door. She watched him enter the gym and sighed. She turned around to look at her kids, Blue had an irritated look on his face. “Mom.” “I know Blue, just…” Jade sighs as she pulled out of the parking lot. “Just give him a chance, he’s nice”

“Does Dad really like him?” Blue asked, he had slight annoyance in his voice. “Yeah,” Jade answers quickly. “They were…are! Best friends. Like how Nathan is your best friend” Blue didn’t say much after that, leaning on his sister’s shoulder. Jade tried her best to be transparent with her kids, but it’s difficult when she tries to bury a past of bad choices that are coming to light. She blinks, did she call dame a bad choice?

To her, he was never a bad choice. She loved him deeply, she still does. But it’s different, she’s married, a mother. But…

She isn’t ready to cross that road

#x black oc #black oc #black writer #creed iii #adonis creed #damian anderson #dame creed iii #adonis creed x reader #adonis creed x oc #michael b jordan #jonathan majors #creed #damian anderson x reader #diamond dame #self insert #black characters

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impishjesters · 6 months

Text

Denture Daddy

CW// implied unspecific sexual relationships, dom/sub talk, use of the word "daddy" and "mommy" in a non-parental form, mentioned hate sex note(s): basically the reader and Jibba (my TADC oc) playing a dumb game of who seems like a dom or sub to pass the time. Jibba can be seen as a bit of a "whore" but he wears it proudly. Rhett (who's mentioned) is another of my TADC ocs. A/N: This whole thing happened all because I wanted to say "denture daddy". I don't expect anyone to give a shit about this. But at the end of the day as long as my friend and I enjoy it, that's all that matters.

Conversations with Jibba was like a game of Russian roulette. You never knew what direction or topic would come up.

Sometimes the conversations were casual, asking how you were doing or if anything fun had happened. But then you’d get conversations about a tiered ranking of who was considered good in bed, only to get whiplash by a simple conversation on whether you were a dog or cat person.

It was a wild ride, to say the least, which is how you got roped into a conversation about your fellow circus captives and whether they fell into dom or sub-category—for shits and giggles that is.

“‘m just sayin’, ya look at Jax ‘n think he’s got this whole sadistic face to ‘im and it turns out he’s just as touch starved as he looks,” Jibba stated.

Right, they were sleeping together—something about hate fucking because of their prank war or some shit. Neither of them was very subtle about their pranks or their “hate sex” because if that was hate sex you hated to see what tamed sex was like.

Bunch of emotionally constipated idiots.

Jibba jabbed you with his elbow playfully, getting your attention back on him. “Thoughts on Kinger?”

“Definitely not a dom, in fact, it feels wrong to think about him even having sex.” You shuddered. Kinger felt too much like your dad, and thinking of your parent’s boinking was enough to make you wanna bleach your eyes.

He shrugged and crossed his arms before leaning his chest against your back. “Yea’ it’s like watchin’ ya gramparents be romantic an mushy.”

“Ugh,” you gagged, “why’d you have to make it worse? I was thinking of my dad at least.”

“Oo, you thinkin’ bout ya dad playing twista? Naughty, naughty.” he teased, shooting you a playful smirk.

You elbowed him hard, basking in the pained noise that left him. “You know damn well what I meant.”

Jibba groaned and rubbed his side, you had a mean right elbow. “Yea’ yeah, alright so what ‘bout Rhett?”

“Eye Daddy? Oh, yeah. Total dom, but like not like in that rough way—”

“—but in like a total control way? Oh yeah, ya don’t know how hard I’ve been tryin’ to crack that nut—metaphorically and literally.” Jibba scoffed and used your head as an armrest, staring out at the others doing one of Caine’s dumb lil games.

“Are you just making rounds to everyone?” You didn’t shame Jibba for his sex escapades, if anything good on him for finding some way to tame Jax’s awful behaviour.

“Only the hot ones.” You looked up at him despite his arm on your head and he sent you a wink. “I’ll get to ya in no time, less ya wanna jump the list then we can go find somewhere right now.”

“Yeah, not right now.” As entertaining as the thought was, you were quite relaxed just hanging out with the ridiculous man. Though it would be a tempting endeavor at a later time. “So, Ragatha?”

“Mm,” Jibba leaned back, taking most of his weight off of you but kept his arm in place. “She gives like, soft mommy vibes.” he waved his hand in a so-so gesture. “Though I feel like she has a lot of parental experiences if she’s been havin’ ta live with Jax for god knows how long.” He paused, eyes squinting in Ragatha’s direction. “I’d let her give me a good stern talk’ ta.”

“I’ll give you a stern talkin’ ta, if you don’t calm yourself.”

“Babe, this whole conversation is about who’s a dom and who’s not, how do ya expect me to keep calm?” he joked. You raised your arm again with a silent threat to elbow him and he swallowed. “Yeah, okay, calming down.”

“Pomni?”

The two of you fell silent, staring over at the anxious woman who was struggling to get out of Jax’s reach.

“Anxious chihuahua.” Both of you stated at the same time.

Jibba laughed that awful eerie death rattle of his. Did a toy like him really exist? God that was horrifying, who buys that for children? You knew he could control it but why did he have to do it now of all times?

He caught you staring and grinned. “Somethin’ wrong?”

Right, this is Jibba we’re talking about, he knows it’s creepy and did it intentionally. Bastard.

“No,” you rolled your eyes and looked back to Pomni. “She’s too anxious, poor woman probably has a hard time holding someone’s hand let alone sex. Though I’d rather not think about her sex life… feels wrong.”

“Oh, and thinkin’ ‘bout mine ain’t?”

You gave him a deadpan stare as to say ‘Really, that’s what you wanna ask?’. He cleared his throat and mumbled a little ‘touche’ before looking back at the others.

“Oo, I know a good one,” he snickered. “Caine.”

“Caine?” Well, at least he wasn’t asking you about Bubble.

For whatever unknown reason, at the mention of his name Caine appeared a few feet from the two of you with a loud pop. “Diiiid somebody say Caine?”

Jibba shook his head, seemed even with a lack of ears the loud pop affected him. You shook your own head, rubbing an ear. “Uh, not directly.”

Caine cocked his head in confusion, clearly not understanding you were simply talking about him—not trying to summon him. “I see. Well, while I’m here. Why aren’t you two participating?” he asked, waggling his fingers in the direction of the others.

“We’re playin’ our own game,” Jibba answered, giving you a playful nudge.

“Oh?” Caine floated closer, eyeing the lanky doll.

“Yea’, the game of dom or sub.”

Caine cocked his head again. “I don’t understand.”

Jibba snickered and you couldn’t help but cover up your own laugh with a grunt. “What he mean’s is—”

“Oh no, he’s like one of those tops with golden retriever vibes that when ya call ‘em daddy like yer sayin’ ‘good boy’ they get excited.” He covers his face, a genuine laugh instead of that death rattle laugh.

The look of confusion never leaves Caine’s face but you can’t help but join Jibba in his laughter, because he’s not wrong. You could say a lot of insulting or weird things to Caine, but if you use that dog tone with him he’ll take just about anything as a compliment or praise.

“Oh no,” you mumbled, he’d be so fun to fuck with. “He’s not a dom…” you snicker, “but I’d still call him daddy.”

“Denture Daddy!” Jibba bursts out, nearly knocking himself and you off your perch.

The two of you laugh so loud it catches the attention of the others across the way. You wave your hand at Ragatha’s confused expression and further try to prevent the two of you from falling.

“I hate to intrude on this moment of merriment but,” Caine clears his throat, looking between the two of you with confused concern. “You two do know I’m not your father, yes?”

Jibba lets out a scream that turns everyone’s attention back onto you two, only to follow with nearly scream-level laughter from the man. You can’t really blame him though because you haven’t stopped laughing either, especially not long enough to try and explain to Caine that the two of you weren’t calling him father.

You give Caine what one could only describe as some form of yes as an answer before telling him he can go between cries and Caine leaves hesitantly. Your sides are starting to ache from so much laughing, meanwhile, Jibba has his face buried into his hands and is leaning into your shoulder like you’d be able to stop his laughter and tears.

He’s taking this a lot funnier than you but man, “denture daddy” is gonna always be in the back of your mind when you look at Caine from now on.

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus x reader #the amazing digital circus oc #tadc oc #tadc original character #original character x reader #tadc rhett (oc)#tadc jibba (oc)

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tarmac-rat · 4 months

Text

OC Interview: Riley

Tagged by @glitchinginthegarden and @seraphfighter. You can read their respective entries here and here

Roleplaying prompts like these are very much not my forte, so I tried my best. And I also might've borrowed Glitch's idea and inserted Johnny into the dialogue as well, just to keep the conversation...organic.

Tagging @clusterfxckedbysirens @ghostoffuturespast @butchsquatch @luvwich and @seeker-of-truth and y'all have probably already done this but I need to get better at tagging people and it's my own fault for being late lol

Note: This recording was recovered from a trash can after presumably being discarded by the interviewer

Name?

V: "V." Interviewer: "Oh, um...like, just the letter?" V: "No."

Nickname?

V: "...V." Interviewer: "*clearly flustered* So you, uh, you don't have a nickname, or--?" Johnny: "Not worth it, pal. You're lucky she's even givin' you this much." Interviewer: "But--" Johnny: "Trust me, choom, fishin' for the truth ain't worth it. Drop it while you still can."

Her full name is Riley Bakker Aldana the fifth. For all intents and purposes, "V" is both her nickname and a part of her full name, since it's a patronymic suffix. Since she comes from a long line of Riley Aldana's, V very rarely uses her actual first name and has never consistently gone by it-- she has always simply been "V" from birth. Johnny, of course, thinks this is the stupidest thing he's ever heard in his life.

Gender?

Johnny: "Ever since V was a child, she's always identified with what's between her legs--" V: "Where are you going with this?" Johnny: "--a cunt." V: *Lets out a long sigh*

Star sign?

V: "Is this an actual interview or is this the second round of sorority rush?" Johnny: "Don't be fuckin' rude. She's a Scorpio, like me." V: "Wait wait wait, I know, like, one thing for sure about star signs, and it's that you and I don't have the same one." Johnny: "Your birthday's less than a month after mine." V: "That's not how zodiac signs work." Johnny: "Look it up, then, if you're so confident." V: "Fine. Just, one sec," *Pulls out phone, types something, types another thing, types another thing* "I'm a..." *types another thing* "...Pisces."

Riley is a Sagittarius

Height?

Johnny: "Five foot nine even. Five foot eight and a half if she's standing on one leg." V: "'Bout sums it up."

Riley's cybernetic right leg is roughly a quarter to a half inch shorter than her organic left leg, so she's got a bit of a weird gait and tends to favor her right side more than her left in fights. She'll eventually get it fixed, but she then spends a few months walking around like a newborn deer tripping over nothing as a result.

Orientation?

V: "'I guess 'bi' is the term I'd throw out there for it, but honestly, dating and managing a love life are the last things on my mind these days. Not like I don't have time, I just don't think settling down's in the cards for me yet. But in terms of preference, though, I don't really lean any which way." Johnny: "So basically, 'people hot'."

Nationality/ethnicity?

V: *laughs slightly* "I don't think I'm technically an NUSA citizen since I spent the first twenty-two years of my life in a car, so I don't know if I technically have a 'nationality' in the literal sense. Ethnicity-wise, most if not all of my mom's side of the family is Diné, so that's easy enough. My dad's side is the question mark. Never met the guy, and my mom never talked about him."

Riley's maternal side of the family is Navajo-- her great-grandfather grew up in Kayenta, AZ, and many founding members of the Bakkers were people from there and the surrounding areas who felt it safer to go westward during the Collapse. Conversely, Riley's father Felix is a smuggler who had a brief fling with her mother Ivy when the Bakkers were camped near the NM/Mexico border in 2052 (and post-Unification War now operates around Fort Hancock, TX). Felix is Mexican-Apache, and blissfully unaware that he has a daughter running around 25 years later fucking up shit in Night City.

Favorite fruit?

V: "I...don't know if I've ever actually eaten a real piece of fruit in my life." Johnny: "You're fucking with me." V: "What!?" Johnny: "Fuckin' hell, we're havin' a conversation after this. Just pick a fruit flavor, and move on. Any of 'em." V: "I, uh, um..." *places hands on her hips, sighs, goes silent* "Green apple, then, I don't know."

Favorite season?

V: "Well, summers in the desert were unbearable, and winters in the desert were boring as all sin, so I guess one of the middle seasons? If I had to pick one, I'd probably pick spring-- the places in the Sonora we used to stay at in the springtime were always pretty nice."

Favorite flower?

V: "Mexican Gold Poppies." Johnny: "Oh, what, you have a favorite flower but you don't have a favorite fruit!?"

Riley likes gold/yellow things despite it not really being in her color scheme. While she likes Gold Poppies, the flower I generally associate her with is a Black-eyed Susan, which are symbols of justice and survival.

Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate?

V: "Depends, but I generally lean towards coffee." Interviewer: "With anything?" V: "Synmilk." Johnny: "And whiskey." V: "Only on Sundays."

Average hours of sleep?

Johnny: "*snorts* Go on, V. Tell 'em 'bout your thoroughly robust and well-kept sleep schedule." V: "I sleep!" Johnny: "Sure, when you get knocked the hell out or fuckin' flatline on me. *to the interviewer* Two hours a night, average." V: "It's more than that! Stop being dramatic." Johnny: "And when she does fuckin' crash, because y'know she will, she's out for a day plus. It'll be like livin' with a corpse. I could host a music festival in that apartment and she prolly wouldn't even roll over to check the time."

Exaggeration aside, Riley will get around 3-5 hours of sleep a night-- combination of restlessness and preferring to work nights. After about 2 weeks of doing that, her body will basically say "NO MORE" and shut down for a day or two to recover.

Dog or cat person?

V: "Cat." Johnny: "Liar." V: "What?" Johnny: "It's horses." V: "Johnny!"

Dream trip?

V: "Not sure. Always used to hear nice things about Australia-- maybe there, I guess? Or maybe Morocco, or Rome? Somewhere warm and dry. And definitely not on the water."

Favorite fictional character?

Johnny: "Let me tell you a little story about a guy from Seattle and the acid trip he had while staring at a pack of Camel cigarettes--" V: "Nope, not even close." Johnny: "Oh, my deepest apologies, princess, were you going to come up with a better answer from the wealth of popular media you consume on a daily basis?" V: "...Fair enough."

Johnny is referring to the book Still Life with Woodpecker by Tom Robbins, which is probably the only novel Riley's read in the last five years. She hates this book for its pretentiousness but since she rarely consumes pop culture as it is, it's really her only fallback when talking about fiction she's actually engaged with.

Number of blankets you sleep with?

V: "One tops, maybe? I tend to run hot. Maybe two in the winter if it's cold enough."

Fun fact?

V: "A fun fact." Johnny: "'Fun' fact, eh? Might be askin' too much of her there." Interviewer: "It can be anything. Your favorite color, what car you drive, how many times you've--" V: "I once helped smuggle the CFO of Asukaga & Finch and his lover over the Texas border after he embezzled 4.7 million dollars from them in 2071." Interviewer: "I, uh, you...what?" V: "I mean, he's probably dead now. What're you gonna do, arrest me?" Johnny: *Starts laughing*

#Cyberpunk 2077 #V #My V #Riley Aldana #Johnny Silverhand #This was fun writing practice! And something I spent WAY longer on than I should have #but it was fun! And thank you both again for tagging me!#Aldi speaks

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karahalloway · 11 months

Text

Uncharted: Tales from the Gypsea - Surf's Up!

Fandom: TRR

Series: Uncharted: Tales from the Gypsea

Pairing: Drake Walker x Harper Gale (F!OC)

Synopsis: While on their honeymoon, Harper takes Drake out of his comfort zone with an unexpected birthday surprise...

Word Count: 5,000 (which is about 3,000 words longer than anticipated, but H&D always run away from me, so here we are 😅)

Rating/Warnings: E (swearing in multiple languages, a few lemon-scented moments, extreme sports)

A/N1: So… this was not what I was supposed to be working on… 😅 But when @petiteboheme sent me a video of Bruno Santos (my FC for Drake) trying hydroboarding (also known as jetblading) for the first time, and demanding that I write a version featuring Drake and Harper, I couldn’t say ‘no’. And since (a) it's the summer, and (b) I haven't written a birthday fic for Drake this year yet, I instantly got a brainwave and dove right in! Hope you enjoy!

A/N2: As mentioned in the Author’s Notes for this series, this fic takes place during Harper and Drake's honeymoon. I HC that Drake’s birthday falls on June 6th, so this mini-adventure would take place approx. midway through the trip.

A/N3: This fic ended up featuring quite a lot of Italian, so as per usual, translations below. I also have a few other general notes at then end.

A/N4: This is also my submission for @choicesjunechallenge, prompts Summer, Vacation, Surf, Beach, Love.

"Rise and shine, sleepy-head," I murmur softly, feathering kisses along the side of Drake's neck.

He groans under his breath, pulling himself out of the depths of slumber with some difficulty. "That's my line, Gale."

"Well, I'm stealing it," I reply impishly, leaning over him to catch his lips with mine. "Especially since I'm up before you for once."

"Obviously, I didn't do a good enough job last night," he grumbles against my mouth, even as he snakes his hand onto my backside to pull my naked body on top of his.

"Oh, don't worry — you did," I assure him, dropping tiny kisses down his chest. "Just like the night before..." My teeth graze his abs. "And the night before that..."

A low sound rattles his throat as I move lower. "The circumstantial evidence indicates otherwise..."

"I needed a way to grab your attention," I tell him sweetly, pausing just above the much more pronounced tan line that circled his hips.

"Oh, you most certainly got it," he confirms, all vestiges of sleep now banished from his countenance as he looks down at me hungrily.

"Good," I declare, drawing myself back up to his eye-level. "Because I have something for you."

"Oh, yeah?" he smirks with a cocked brow, running his palms up my bare thighs in anticipation.

"Yup," I affirm, leaning over him to reach into the recess on the wall behind the bed.

His eyes widen as I pull out the rectangular-shaped item wrapped in Marvel superhero logo emblazoned wrapping paper. "Wait. You didn't—"

"Happy birthday!" I pronounce, holding the present out to him triumphantly.

He greets my offering with a seriously unimpressed glare. "Gale, I told you that—"

"—you don't want any presents, I shouldn't make a big deal out of it, we're on our honeymoon, blah-blah-blah." I fix him with a deadpan look. "Well, guess what, bud? You don't have a choice. Because I want to celebrate the day you were born."

He scoffs. "Oh, so my birthday's all about you, huh?"

"No," I counter. "It's all about you. And I think I did a pretty good job last year. So, how 'bout you trust me for a change?"

He heaves a beleaguered breath. "Can't we just—?"

"Nope!" I interject, thrusting the parcel into his face.

He rolls his eyes as he finally takes the present. "The things I do for you, girl..."

"Don't you mean the things I do for you?" I counter meaningfully.

He hits me with level look as he scoots himself into a sitting position. "We could both be doing each other right now if—"

"Oh, my God, you're impossible!" I cry exasperatedly, even as I fail to suppress a snort of amusement. "Just open it already!"

"Maybe I like the anticipation..."

I smack him on the chest.

"Christ, I married a bullbat!" he huffs.

"Who you love unconditionally," I remind him. "So, I know you'll love this."

He quirks a sceptical brow as he finds the edge of the folded paper and starts to peel it open. "You sound damn sure of yourself..."

"I have reason to be confident," I say, folding my arms with a wink.

He shakes his head at me as he finishes opening his present. But I can see the smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

The last of the wrapping paper falls away, and he frowns. "You got me... a photo frame?"

"Turn it over," I prompt, trying to contain the butterflies flapping around in my stomach.

He’s gonna like it — I’m sure of it. But... there's always a tiny part of you that insists on throwing all the worst-case scenarios at you, making you doubt yourself.

He flips the frame over...

...and silence falls on the cabin as his expression goes blank.

I bite my bottom lip, waiting for him to say something, to react in some kind of way, but he is as immobile as a statue, giving no indication of his state of mind.

Finally, I can't take it any more. "Do you—?"

"When did you do this?" he demands hoarsely.

"When we were last in port," I tell him. "I went to that pharmacy t—"

"But we don't have the pictures from the wedding yet," he cuts in, voice still tight.

"You mean, you don't have the pictures from the wedding yet," I grin. "I asked Max to put a rush on that one so it would be ready for your birthday."

"Christ, Harper," he breathes, eyes brimming with sudden emotion as he pulls me into him. "Remind me never to play poker with you..."

"I'll take that as a compliment," I say, wrapping my arms around him. "So, does that mean I managed to surprise you?"

"Every goddamn day," he says into my hair, squeezing me tight. "'Cause the fact that you're here with me at all is still pretty un-fuckin'-believeable..."

"Well, you did put a ring on it, so..." I waggle the fingers of my left hand at him.

He smacks me on the ass. "You know what I mean..."

I snort into his neck.

"But seriously," he says, pushing me back up so we were face-to-face again. "I love it. I honestly didn't even realise we had any pictures of us... let alone so many."

"Sometimes you gotta capture that moment in between," I tell him with a coy shrug.

His expression cracks. "God, I love you..."

Yanking me to down, his lips claim mine in a passionate, searing kiss that is dizzying in its intensity.

I sigh happily, melting against him.

And even though I would've loved nothing more than to lose myself in him, out here, in the middle of the ocean, for the umpteenth time since the start of this trip, our love-making’s going to have to wait.

Because today calls for a very different kind of celebration.

So, before Drake has a chance to pull us both into what’s — very clearly! — his preferred form of revelment, I break off the kiss.

His eyes snap open to meet mine. "Gale, what are you—?"

"No rest for the wicked, cowboy," I declare, jumping off him. "It's your 28th birthday and we have things to do, and places to be!"

His face drains of colour. "Sweet fuckin' Jesus, girl... You didn't organise a party, did you?"

I choke back a laugh at the sight of the sheer horror in his eyes. "You really think I'd do that to you, Walker?"

"Well, you clearly have no compunction 'bout leaving a man high and dry on his birthday," he objects sourly, gesturing at his arousal that’s now flying very much at full mast. "So, apparently anything goes."

"Don't worry," I assure him, pausing in the doorway to the bathroom. "There's no party. But we are running behind schedule, so you need to get your butt out of bed and move the boat, Cap'n."

"She's a 37-foot sailing yacht..." he grumbles, running his hand down his face, "not a—"

"Chop-chop, Walker!" I prompt, disappearing into the bathroom with a clap of my hands. "Nobody's gettin' any younger here!"

He flops back onto the pillows with a pained groan. "Christ alive..."

"So?" I ask an hour or so later around a mouthful of Eggs Benedict, sitting on the patio of an unassuming little bistro in St. Julian's, on the island of Malta. "Did I pick well?"

Drake spears the last of his own breakfast. "See or hear any complaints?"

"Worth getting out of bed for?"

He quirks a brow at me as he settles back into his chair. "Now that might be a stretch..."

I punt him under the table.

"Hey," he objects, dodging out of the way. "I said it was good. But would I trade the chicken and waffles for an extra hour in bed with you? Every time."

"Hmm..." I say, stirring the remainder of my freshly squeezed orange juice with my straw. "Sounds like I need to try harder next time."

He meets my eye over the rim of his coffee cup. "You can try... But you've set a damn high bar for yourself, girl."

I click my tongue as I set the glass back onto the table. "Well, the day isn't over yet, cowboy. I may still be able to surpass myself."

"Tough odds, Gale," he assures me with a smirk. "Tough odds."

"How was everything?" asks the sever, appearing to clear our plates away.

"Really good!" I say. "I'm stuffed!"

"And you, sir?"

"It hit the spot," Drake acknowledges, flicking a contented look my way.

"Glad to hear!" the server replies as she stacks the empty crockery together. "Can I get you another refill, or—?"

"Just the bill, please," I interject, reaching for my purse. "We're running a bit late."

"No problem," she replies. "I'll print it off right away. Cash or card?"

"Car—"

"Cash," interjects Drake, holding some Euros out. "And you can keep the change."

I whirl on him in bewilderment. "But—"

"Th-thanks," stammers the server, clearly surprised by the size of the tip Drake has just given her. "Did you still want the receipt?"

"Nah, we're good," advises Drake, pushing his chair back. "The wife says we're running late, so that means we're running late."

"Okay, I won't keep you then! Have a good rest of your day!"

"But—" I try again, but the server has already stuffed the cash into her apron and turned away.

"Up-and-at-'em, Gale," prompts Drake, holding his hand out. "You said we gotta get moving so—"

"But, I was going to pay for breakfast!" I object, grabbing my bag and taking his proffered assistance to help me stand.

"Well, I beat you to it," he shrugs, looping his fingers through mine as he navigates us through the labyrinth of tables that dotted the bistro's patio. "Plus, you'd've been shafted on the bank charges and the exchange rate, so—"

"But it's your birthday!" I press. "I wanted to treat you for a change!"

"Trust me, you did," he assures me with a smile, giving my hand a squeeze. "You found a place in the Med that does chicken and waffles for breakfast. If that's not a treat, I dunno what is."

I feel myself blush under the sincerity of his gaze. "So, you did like it."

"'Course I did," he affirms, twirling me to a stop in front of him. "Even if I had to eat dirt for breakfast, I'd enjoy it if I got to do it with you. You're the silver lining around everything, mon coeur."

I feel my throat tighten as I gaze up at him. "Drake..."

"And the money?" He reaches up to stroke my face with a nonchalant shrug. "That's all relative. We're married now, so what's mine is yours and vice-versa. There's no need to keep tabs on who pays for what and when."

I'm suddenly powerless in the face of his caress. "If you say so, Mr. Walker."

"It's my birthday," he confirms, cupping my face in his hands. "So, I do say so... Mrs. Gale-Walker."

Leaning in, he tilts my chin up. My eyes shudder closed as his lips meet mine softly, tenderly, like a lapping wave kissing the shoreline. But with each surge, that wave crests in size and strength until it becomes a riptide of passion that threatens to swallow us completely.

"Christ, I'll never get tired of saying that," he breathes between one inrush and the next.

"It was... definitely a hard... fought accomplishment," I agree haltingly, gripping his hair in an effort to keep myself from being swept away by his sudden fervour.

He swallows a groan as my body arcs into his. "All the more reason...to celebrate the crap out of it."

My eyes snap open. "Celebrate...! Shit! We're late for your—"

"Screw that," he growls, tightening his hold on me. "I'm takin' you back to the boat."

"Thought it was... a sailing yacht," I gasp as he underscores his intent by pulling me flush against the hardness of his body.

"Not the point," he replies dismissively, scrunching the material of my romper between his fingers as his stubble brushes the shell of my ear. "'Cause I'm still gonna fuck you over every inch of the deck."

"After!" I tell him, distracting him with a kiss on his cheek as I spin out of his grasp.

His head drops back to stare up at the sky. "Putain de bordel de—"

"Come on!" I shout over my shoulder at him, already pegging it down towards the marina.

He grumbles something testily under his breath before reluctantly obliging.

Dodging around locals and tourists, we manage to make it down to the bottom of the hill where the island gave way to Spinola Bay just as the various clock-towers around the city begin to toll the hour.

"Crap!" I exclaim, throwing my head around as I try to speed-read the various signs suspended over the promenade. "Which one is it?"

Drake comes to a stop next to me. "Gale, what are y—?"

"There it is!" I cry, grabbing his hand to haul him after me.

"Sweet Jesus, girl!" he huffs. "Will you just—?"

He cusses again as he very nearly avoids running me over as I suddenly pull us up in front of a squat building.

"Ta-da!" I exclaim, throwing my arm dramatically out at the black-and-red façade of the water sports rental place that we just arrived at.

"Okay...?" he says hesitantly, eyeing the store front dubiously. "And we're here because...?"

"You'll see!" I proclaim, pulling him into the minuscule space inside the door.

"Oh, for fuck's s—!"

The two guys manning the counter look up at the sound of our whirlwind arrival.

Laying eyes on me, both of their faces break into that trademark Mediterranean smile I've found myself on the receiving end of more times than I could count since the start of this trip.

"Ciao, bella!" cries one by way of greeting, stepping out from behind the counter. "Can we help you?"

"Ciao, yes. I'm Harper," I say, holding my hand out. "I spoke to one of you on the phone yesterday?"

The guy's eyes light up as he grabs my hand eagerly. "Ah, sì! Harper! I remember!" Bending down, he lays an enthusiastic kiss on my knuckles. "You spoke to me! I'm Mario."

I nod in affirmation. "Yes, I—"

"And this is my brother, Luca!" continues Mario with typical Italian excitement, throwing a hand on the other guy's shoulder to yank him into my eye-line.

"Come stai?" he asks, grabbing my hand out of his brothers grasp to drop a loud smooch on it as well.

"Sto bene, grazie," I reply graciously.

Mario and Luca stare at me in bewilderment before simultaneously lighting up in wonder. "Ah! Sorprendente! Parla italiano? Hai un così bell'accento! Tu che sembri—"

"And, this is Drake," I add in English, somewhat apologetically, having exhausted my limited Italian. "My husband."

The brothers' faces fall. "Ah. Piacere."

Drake nods passively in reply.

"So... you, ah, wanted to have Full Flight experience?" asks Mario, clearing his throat as he resumes his place behind the counter.

"Yes," I respond, digging into my bag for my phone. "The 30 minute package. I have the confirmation email, if—"

"No, no!" interjects Mario with a wave of his hand as he clicks the Apple desktop screen to life. "I have you in system already. And you paid full amount yesterday, so you only need to sign waiver before start of your lesson."

"Great!" I say, dropping my phone back into the bag's pocket as Luca hands me a double sided piece of paper. "You have a pen?"

Two sets of biros are thrust instant in my direction.

"Thanks," I say bemusedly.

Turning back to Drake, I see him looking at me with a raised brow.

"Full flight experience, Gale?" he asks dryly. "We signing our life away to go parasailing or something?"

"Nope," I reply, passing him the waiver and the pen with a grin. "Just you. Because you're about to go hydroboarding."

His eyes snap up to mine. "Hydro-what-now?"

"Hydroboarding," I repeat. "Also known as jet-blading. Think Iron Man thrusters on your feet, but powered by water instead of... whatever it is that powers Iron Man's thrusters."

"Repulsors," he supplies dryly as he scans the waiver. "And you thought this was a good idea because...?"

"Because it's your birthday and I wanted to surprise you with something that you haven't tried before and therefore wouldn't be expecting!"

"Well, you certainly managed to score on both of those fronts," he mutters, scribbling his details on the form.

I lean into him seductively. "I told you I'd be able to surpass myself."

He glances up from the page. "Don't jump the gun, baby. I'm not out on the water yet."

"Like I said this morning," I purr against his ear. "I have reason to feel confident."

A low growl rumbles in his throat as he dashes his signature on the form.

"Bene!" cries Mario, snatching the waiver away. "If you follow Luca to the back, he will give you helmet and wetsuit in your size."

"Wetsuit?" queries Drake, dropping the pen on the counter. "Seriously?"

"All part of the package, darling," I tell him with a pat on his back as we file after Luca.

Drake groans audibly. "You're walking a fine line, girl..."

"You know me, Walker..." I smirk. "I'm all about the high-octane thrills!"

"Good," he says, throwing me a heated look over his shoulder. "Because when we get back to the yacht, I'm still plannin' on taking you all the way to cloud nine."

I meet his eye. "That a promise?"

His mouth pulls into a cocky grin. "It's a gold-plated guarantee."

"So, this is equipment room," declares Luca, coming to a stop in the middle of a tightly packed space that was filled to the brim with various pieces of water-sporting gear. "We have helmets, wetsuits, life jackets in all sizes. You look like you're a pretty fit guy so—"

"La mia taglia la so," interjects Drake, striding over to a rack of wetsuits.

Luca's eyes widen.

"He's been diving before," I say by way of explanation.

"Noto," comes the po-faced acknowledgment as Drake rifles critically through the options. "And I see now where you learn to speak Italian."

"Learning," I correct. "It's a bit of a slow process."

"Salvagente?" asks Drake, turning back to the room with his selection.

Luca indicates towards the far wall.

Crossing the floor, Drake quickly picks out a life jacket, and a helmet as well.

"Lo spogliatoio è laggiù," advises Luca, pointing to a haphazardly hung curtain in the corner.

"Grazie," nods Drake, carrying his armload of stuff over.

"Do you... need me to hold onto anything?" I ask.

"Nah, I'm good," he replies, stepping behind the curtain. "Be out in a minute."

"Okay."

"So, you come to Malta for holiday?" asks Luca inquisitively, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of having to wait in silence.

"Honeymoon," I reply, tucking my hair behind my ear.

"Ahh!" he exclaims, throwing his hands up into the air. "Congratulazioni! Your husband is very lucky guy!"

"Thanks," I say with a simile. "I feel the same way about him."

"How you two meet?"

"Erm... it's a bit of a long story, but we met in New York."

"Ah, sì! New York!" he nods enthusiastically. "The Big Melon!"

I frown. "Normally it's called the Big Apple, but—"

The sound of metal rings jingling on the curtain pole draw my attention.

Turning my head, I see Drake step out from the changing area and I can't help but snort.

He quirks a brow as he adjusts the chin strap on his helmet. "Somethin' funny, Gale?"

"No," I say, trying to recollect my composure. "I... I've just never seen you with so much gear on."

"Well, it's a bit overkill, if you ask me," he declares, grabbing his clothes and shoes from the floor.

"You do look ready for some serious spelunking..."

"Let me guess?" he drawls, handing me his stuff. "That's my birthday present for next year?"

I swallow down another snort as I drop his things in my tote. "Do you want it to be?"

His mocha eyes meet mine. "Only if you're coming with me."

"You got yourself a deal, cowboy," I say with a grin, pushing myself up on my toes to give him a kiss. "Now go live it up as Iron Man."

"Whatever you say, Miss Potts," he smirks with a wink, giving my backside a clandestine squeeze before turning to Luca. "Quindi cosa dopo?"

"Suegitemi," he prompts, heading back to the front of the store.

"Y'know," whispers Drake into my ear as we follow after Luca, "it's not too late for you to ditch that romper and get gussied up too."

"Nice try, Walker," I laugh. "But like I said — this day is all about you, so I'm more than happy to sit this one out so I can capture your escapades on film."

"Fine," he grumbles. "But I'm gettin' my own back for your birthday."

"I expect nothing less," I grin as Luca leads us out onto the jetty, where Mario is already waiting for us.

"Ah! Bellissimo!" he enthuses upon our approach. But his face suddenly falls as his eyes land on me. "Harper! You change your mind? You don't want to go flying?"

"Oh, no," I say with a chuckle. "This was a surprise for Drake."

"Ahh!" nods Mario in understanding. "You want to use husband as hamster first. Smart lady!"

"Actually—"

But Mario has already turned his attention onto his student. "So. Mr Drake. Like English pirate, yes?"

"Era un corsaro, non un pirata," replies Drake.

"Ah-ha!" exclaims Mario, clapping Drake on the shoulder. "So, it is you who are the secret Italian! But why English name?"

"Perché sono mezzo americano," explains Drake. "Ma mia madre è di Cordonia e anche io sono cresciuto lì."

"Ah, sì... Cordonia," muses Mario. "Bel paese. Belle donne."

As Drake continues conversing with the brothers in their native language, I take the opportunity to slip my phone out of my bag and take some pictures of the three of them, as well as the sparkling bay behind us.

Malta had not been on the list of destinations for this trip, but it had been the only place that offered hydroboarding. So, when it had popped up as an option during my online hunt for birthday surprises for Drake, I’d know I I had to convince him to make the detour south.

And honestly? It hasbeen worth it. The little island was a true jewel of the Mediterranean with craggy limestone cliffs plunging into azure-blue bays so clear you could see to the bottom, while the small towns that dotted the coast literally made you feel like you stepped back in time as you wandered the meandering cobblestone streets lined with imposing baroque buildings.

Stowing my phone away, I turn back to the men and see that they are now in the process of showing Drake how to use the hydroboard, which really does look like the wayward parts of Tony Stark's suit. And while I can’t understand any of the fast-paced Italian, I’m able to pick up the general gist from the non-verbal parts of the demo: dip your toes down to go forwards, straighten back up to stop or rise higher, and lean to the side to turn.

Drake is nodding along intently, dropping a few questions here and there, but before long, Luca is strapping the device to his feet, and latching on the tube that would supply the water to the thrusters via the jet ski's propulsion system.

"All set?" I ask as he prepares to drop into the water.

"We're about to find out," he replies while Luca helps lower him off the pier.

"Have fun!" I call down to him.

"Harper!"

I snap my head up at the sound of my name.

Mario beckoning to me from atop his jet ski. "Jump on! Capitano Drake said you wanted to take pictures — best spot is from the water."

"But I'm not dressed for swimming," I say, gesturing at my romper.

"Don't worry!" he laughs. "I promised your husband I will take good care of you. You won't fall in."

"Okay, sure!" I nod with a grin, slipping out of my sandals. Opening up my tote, I drop my shoes in and extract my phone before stowing the bag behind a large metal mooring post. Since it was just us out here, I figured our stuff would be safe for the 30 or so minutes while we were out on the water, especially since it looked like Luca would be staying on the jetty.

Quickly throwing my hair into a ponytail, I make my way over to Mario. Sitting down on the edge of the pier, Luca provides some assistance with manoeuvring me onto the back of the jet ski, given that I only really had one free hand.

Once I'm seated securely, Mario relays some instructions into the headset he’s wearing before slowly guiding the little vessel away from the jetty.

Glancing behind me, I see Drake's head bobbing above the water, but he quickly starts to ascend skywards.

"Get ready," advises Mario, revving the throttle higher as he spins the jet ski around so we’re facing back towards the shore.

Pulling up the camera app, I switch it to video mode and hit record just as Drake rises somewhat haphazardly out of the water.

"Oh, my God! That's so cool!" I exclaim, watching as the powerful jets under his feet propel him upwards until he's hovering about a foot above the water, arms thrown out as he tries to maintain his balance.

"Like magic, no?" grins Mario, watching Drake's efforts and making adjustments to the throttle speed accordingly.

"Definitely!" I enthuse, zooming in on Drake as he begins to move forwards.

"Balance is most important thing," calls Mario above the roar of the jets. "If you have strong balance you can—"

"Oh, no!" I cry as Drake suddenly loses the tentative hold in his equilibrium and tips in slow-motion back into the water.

"Everybody falls," Mario assures me as he helps Drake level out again before powering upwards once more with some further instructions into his headset. "But for first time, he is doing great job!"

"He's an amazing snowboarder," I say. "And he used to ski before that. I'm guessing both of those help."

"Sì, sì," nods Mario, keeping his gaze on his charge. "Skating, rollerblading, surfing — all these sports are good practice. Should we make him go higher?"

"Obviously!" I laugh, giving Drake a wave as he looks in our direction.

He gives a quick wave in response before focusing his attention back on the mechanics of his flight. Mario relays a few more instructions down the line and Drake throws us a thumbs up in response. A few false starts and a couple of jagged movements later, he's managed to draw a figure of eight out in front of us.

"Wow!" I gasp as he repeats the exercise again, this time with increased speed. "He's gotten the hang of that that quick!"

"He is natural," agrees Mario. "Before you know it, he will be competing in X-Games."

"Don't tell him that, because he definitely—!" I gasp as I catch sight of Drake again. "Holy crap!"

"Like I said — he is natural," replies Mario, watching Drake execute a tight 360 bent low over his board.

"Oh, God, I've created a monster..." I mutter sardonically under my breath as Drake flies out of the spin into a wide circle around us.

The rest of the session zooms by in a blur, and before I know it my phone’s battery is about to die and it's time to head back to shore.

"That was so amazing!" I exclaim as Luca helps me dismount the jet ski. "And I wasn't even the one flying!"

"You are welcome back anytime, Harper," says Mario with a grin as Luca takes my place on the back of the craft. "It was our pleasure!"

Grabbing my bag, I watch as the brothers head back to Drake and help him detach the hydroboard from his feet before shuttling it back to the jetty.

Drake makes the short swim back to the pier, and I'm there waiting for him as he climbs back onto dry land.

"So, what did you think?" I ask as he pulls himself up next to me, dripping water.

"Fuckin' awesome!" he declares, unclipping his helmet with a beaming smile. "The time went by so fast that I swear I was only out there for 5 minutes, tops."

"Well, my phone can attest to the fact that it was the full half hour," I assure him. "I got some good pics though!"

"Great! Can't wait to see! And you're definitely coming with me next time. You'd love it! It really is like flying!"

"Glad you had a good time, cowboy," I say, dropping a kiss in his salt-infused lips.

He wraps his arm around me, drenching me in the process. "I did. And I appreciate you pulling this together for me behind my back. You really didn't have to."

I smack him on the chest. "Of course I did! What kind of person would I be if I didn't surprise you with some kind of surprise on your birthday?"

"Well, you got me the other present already, so—"

"Nope!" I declare with a cheeky grin. "One present isn't enough. I gotta keep you in your toes, bud, remember?"

"You do, baby," he says with a warm look, pulling me to him. "Every single day. And I wouldn't trade it for the world."

"Me neither," I assure him, fusing my lips with his. "Now, let's get back to the boat."

So, as promised, a few notes and translations below:

1. Food — I appreciate that chicken and waffles is very much an American dish, with strong ties to the Southern states. However, in the course of my research, I did actually find a bistro in St. Julian’s, in Malta, where they serve this for brunch, so I did not — in any way! — take any creative licenses with that part of the story 😇

2. Language — Malta is an interesting place from a language point of view. While the official language is Maltese (which is a Semitic language that developed from a dialect of Arabic in combination with Sicilian — no, I didn’t know this either!), Malta was a British colony for about 150 years, which means that most people are conversant in both languages. In addition, due to Malta’s proximity to Italy, along with the influence of the Sicilian dialect on the local language, many Maltese people can speak/understand Italian as well. That said, Mario and Luca are actually Italian transplants (rather than Maltese), which is why they speak Italian.

3. Translations — As mentioned in my other fics, I HC that Drake is fluent in both French and Italian. Here are the translations:

- Mon coeur: lit. ‘my heart’ but connotatively means ‘my love’

- Putain de bordel de— : For fuck's—

- Ciao, bella!: Hello, beautiful!

- Sì: Yes

- Come stai?: How are you (doing)?

- Sto bene, grazie: I’m doing well, thanks.

- Sorprendente! Parla italiano? Hai un così bell'accento! Tu che sembri— : Amazing! You speak Italian! You have such a beautiful accent! You sound like—

- Piacere: Pleasure (as in ‘pleasure to meet you’)

- Bene: Good/great

- La mia taglia la so: I know what size I am

- Noto: Noted / I see

- Salvagente: Life jacket

- Lo spogliatoio è laggiù: The changing room is over there

- Grazie: Thanks

- Congratulazioni: Congratulations

- Quindi cosa dopo?: What now?

- Suegitemi: Follow me

- Bellissimo: Beautiful

- Era un corsaro, non un pirata: He was a privateer, not a pirate

- Perché sono mezzo americano. Ma mia madre è di Cordonia e anche io sono cresciuto lì: Because I am half-American. My mother is from Cordonia and I also grew up there.

- Ah, sì... Cordonia. Bel paese. Belle donne: Ah, yes… Cordonia. Beautiful country. Beautiful women.

*Big Melon: So, while looking for a translation of Big Apple, I learnt that in Italian, apple = mela, which I thought looked and sounded surprisingly similar to melon (melone), hence the small linguistic in-joke. Similar case of lost in translation with Guinea pig vs hamster. I know, I’m sad… ignore me 😆

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Picture credits:

Hydroboarding - Harper - Drake - Malta

#surf's up!#harper gale #drake walker #drake x harper #the royal romance #uncharted #h&d honeymoon #tales from the gypsea #drake walker appreciation

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kimpossibly · 1 year

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DON'T LOOK DOWN -> the last of us

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi...so I'm absolutely losing my mind over this show. I have some friends who have played the game that are head over heels for it as well, but as someone who's never played, I'm SOLD. I'm in love with the world, with the characters, with the set design, EVERYTHING. Ever since I saw episode one I've had an idea rattling around in my head for an OC, so I did what I always do — come to Tumblr to flesh them out! I hope you enjoy this and please let me know if you do through comments or reblogs!! Remember that if you like a fic or any post for that matter, you should like and REBLOG it, because likes mean next to nothing. Support your fellow artists and spread the love!! Enjoy, my lovely readers <3

PAIRING: PLATONIC joel miller x fem!reader (I'm talking some SERIOUS found family stuff here) WARNINGS: Heavy use of guns and weapons, mentions of the apocalypse, DETAILED descriptions of violence, trauma, and death. Family member death. I definitely sobbed while writing this SUMMARY: After losing her family and getting found by the Fireflies, Y/n goes with Ellie and Joel on a treacherous journey to Salt Lake City.

"I spy with my little eye...something blue."

"Is it the sky?"

"No, dipshit, that's too obvious." Ellie said with an eye roll.

Y/n just scoffed, shaking her head. "Joel, you got any ideas?"

"How 'bout we start with making this the last round of this game?" he said gruffly. Ellie just gave him a glare and muttered something about him being a killjoy underneath her breath. Joel cleared his throat, looking around them — the open field to the left, the forest to the right. "You got me."

Ellie groaned, her head dropping. "It was Y/n's backpack, duh." she said. "Which, I'd like to add, has two guns in it. Not one. Two."

"Cause I actually know how to use them, genius." Y/n replied. "I'm kind of shit at aiming, but I can't point and shoot until the cows come home. If there's one good thing about the apocalypse, it's that it taught me some basic life skills really damn fast.

"Aren't you from Arizona? Hunting season's pretty much year-round down there. Didn't your dad take you out hunting or something?" Joel asked.

At those words, something in Y/n's eyes glazed over. "No. No he didn't." she said, her voice flat. After a moment, she sniffed and rubbed at her nose, turning her head away so as not to let them notice. But Joel saw. She coughed. "Come on, we should pick up the pace if we want to make it to Bill's by sundown."

With that, she sped up until she was walking a good ten feet in front of them. Joel watched her with confusion, which Ellie noted.

"She does that when she doesn't want anyone to see her cry," she explained quietly. "She's got some rough family stories."

"We all do." Joel replied.

But Ellie just shook her head, glancing back at Y/n. "Not like hers."

Ellie and Y/n huddled behind the hole in the wall, listening to the sounds of gunfire come and go. Pop, pop. Silence. Pop. Y/n could barely stand it. She flinched at the familiar sound of gunfire now.

Y/n popped out above from hers and Ellie's hideout and fired a few times into the open, not sticking around to see if she'd actually hit one of their attackers. She always figured it was better if she didn't know. Based on the number of shots coming from their end, she could tell that Joel was wildly outnumbered. They weren't FEDRA or Fireflies, but they had a big enough group to overwhelm one man. Glass shattered as a bullet from the other side shattered through the truck's windshield. Y/n peeked out as glass rained down on Joel. He was alone as the enemy approached. And Y/n couldn't let that happen.

Joel carefully made his way to the other side of the truck as someone stepped in through the obliterated doorway of the laundromat. Glass crunched under his feet. Every step he took brought him closer and closer to discovering Joel. They were running out of time.

Y/n turned to Ellie suddenly, startling her. She put her hands on either sides of Ellie's face, looking at her with an expression so serious that she knew it was in her own best interest to shut the hell up. "Listen to me, you need to stay here. Don't get up. Don't move. Don't even think about it. Don't get a bright idea and try to play hero, alright?"

Ellie gave a quick nod and Y/n stooped down, unzipping her backpack as quietly as she could and pulling out one of her pistols. She began to creep to the hole in the wall, but Ellie grabbed her sleeve before she could come into view. "What are you doing?"

Y/n turned back, trying not to let the fear coursing through her show to the younger girl. "I got a bright idea."

Y/n crept carefully through the hole in the wall as the man stepped closer towards Joel's hiding place. She held her breath, both hands wrapped around the pistol, her pointer finger on the trigger.

Crunch.

The man wheeled around, and Y/n, caught off-guard, abandoned the gun, placing a strong kick to the man's stomach. He stumbled back and the gunfire resumed, stronger now than ever. Joel used this moment to leap out of his hiding spot, jamming the butt of his rifle into the back of the man's head. He crumpled on the spot, blood pouring from the point of impact.

"I told you to stay there." Joel said angrily.

"I don't listen." Y/n said. A single gunshot whizzed past them and they crouched down to avoid it.

"If you go leaping into open fire, what's to stop Ellie from doing the same, huh?"

"She wouldn't follow me out here."

"How do you know?"

"Because I told her not to."

"I told you not to. And you didn't listen." Joel said, reaching up to fire. There was a yell as his bullet met its target, and the gunfire ceased instantly. He went to reload, but found the barrel had jammed.

Y/n stood up, glaring at Joel. "She listens to me. She trusts me." she said. "You're just the guy in charge of taking us from Point A to Point B."

"Trust isn't the point here, okay?" Joel replied, standing. "You're not setting a good example for her."

"You're not my dad, Joel!" Y/n replied, her tone low and harsh. "Ellie is the closest thing I've got to family. Once we reach Salt Lake City, I'm going to be the only one she has, and I'll be damned if I take that away from her. I can protect myself. So worry about yourself."

Joel had no answer for that. Suddenly the silence they were surrounded by seemed impossibly loud. Either they had killed their attackers or frightened them enough to make them turn around and run. Y/n wasn't sure which she'd prefer.

"Are you guys done arguing so I can come out now?" Ellie's voice came out muffled.

Y/n gave Joel one last pissed off look and turned around. "Hang on, I'm coming to get ya!" she said, heading back to the hole in the wall. "Here, hand me your stuff and I'll—"

The sudden sound of the back door to the laundromat bursting open silenced her. There was a gunshot and a yell — whether it was from Joel or his attacker, she couldn't tell. Y/n didn't wait to see what was happening before she practically shoved Ellie back into the hiding spot to keep her out of harm's way.

Y/n turned as someone in dark clothing knocked Joel to the ground, scrambling on top of him pressing his rifle to his neck to choke him. "Now you're gonna fucking pay! What you fucking did, you fucking killed yourself, motherfucker!" the guy shouted, his voice filled with rage. Joel struggled against him, but his grip stayed firm, pressing harder and harder down on his throat. His shoes squeaked against the floor as he tried desperately to move away, but it was useless.

The gun weighed heavy as Y/n lifted it. Arms straight out, finger over the trigger. Joel's struggling was becoming weaker and weaker with every passing second. Beads of sweat collected on Y/n brow. This was no time for indecision. No time for fear. She grit her teeth and gripped the gun even tighter.

Bang.

The man let out a yell as he fell to the side, slumped against the wall. Joel immediately began to gasp and wheeze, taking in heaving breaths of air. Y/n stepped closer, the gun still held out, and she saw that she hadn't killed the man.

He was leaning against the wall, his chest heaving violently. When he removed his hands from under him, they were slick, coated with blood. He struggled to get himself up, grimacing at the pain, and Y/n realized with horror that he couldn't have been much older than she was.

He was just a kid.

"No, no, no, no, no! It's okay! It's okay. It's over. We're not fighting anymore." he shouted frantically, holding a bloodstained hand out to stop her. His voice had completely changed from before. What had been violent rage was now desperate pleading. "I'm gonna go home. I'll tell everyone you're good." he said, his voice choked with tears.

Y/n swallowed, refusing to lower her weapon as a lump in her throat began to form.

Suddenly he sobbed, his voice becoming high-pitched in distraught terror. "I don't know what to do. My legs don't work."

She had shot him in the spine. She must've paralyzed him.

"My mom isn't far, if you could get me to her." he cried.

Joel slowly began to get up, but Y/n was frozen in fear. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe. All she could do was watch this terrified kid beg for his life.

"We could trade with you guys. We could be friends. I didn't know!" he said, panting through tears. "I'm Bryan! I'm Bryan. What's your name?"

Y/n's throat constricted. Tears rushed to her eyes and she didn't stop them, but her body knew better. Tears were weakness. She pushed them away almost as an instinct, but something was still weighing heavy in her chest. Bryan.

Joel's hand suddenly reached out, grabbing the pistol from the top. Y/n suddenly became aware, her eyes darting to Joel's. He said nothing, but the look on his face said all she needed to know: You know what I have to do.

Slowly, she let go of the pistol and found that her hands were shaking violently. He turned back around, causing Bryan to panic. "Wait, wait, wait!" he shouted, doing his best to drag himself further away. all he was doing was backing himself further into a corner. Suddenly he reached into a holster and pulled out a large hunting knife, dropping it to the ground. "You can have it...It's a good knife." he said, his voice becoming even more ragged.

Joel bent down and took the knife from him. Y/n was feeling something she hadn't felt in a long time. Not since the time she watched her mother's eyes close for the last time.

Joel turned to her. "Get back behind the wall." he said.

"No, no, no, no! I'm sorry! Please, please. We could just talk! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Bryan shouted, holding his hand out as if to shield himself from them.

Y/n tried to speak, but choked on her words. She paused, not sure what to say. "Joel," she said finally, her voice coming out as nothing more than a rough whisper.

Joel's expression hardened. "Y/n. Get back."

But she couldn't leave. Bryan was crying out to her, apologizing to her, begging for help. There was nothing they could do to help him, and there was nothing he could do to hurt them. But he had seen their faces, and now he knew their names. And that kind of information was deadly.

Y/n just shook her head, her eyes glazing over just as they had earlier. Joel realized then that there was no convincing her. The damage had already been done. So he turned away from her and cocked the pistol.

"No, please! Please! I'm sorry!" Bryan's cries became even more frantic. "Please! You don't have to! No, no, no! We can just talk!"

He was babbling now. Y/n couldn't move. She looked at Bryan, and for and for one fleeting instant, she saw herself that one December night seven years ago. The night she lost everything but her life.

"Mom! Mom! Mom!"

Bang.

Two days. It had been two days since Y/n had said a word to Joel or Ellie. It had also been two days since Joel had put a bullet in Bryan's head.

She walked like someone possessed, eyes staring blankly ahead, face frozen with no expression.

Ellie did her best to goad her into conversation, but she may as well have been talking to a brick wall. Y/n never replied to her questions or laughed at her jokes. Ellie didn't scare easily, but now she was terrified. Nothing quite like this had ever happened.

The only time they ever heard a sound from her was late into the night, when she thought they were both asleep. That was when she allowed herself to cry.

Joel awoke on the third night to complete silence. As the forest floor came into focus around him, he saw Y/n sleeping bag laying flat on the ground, empty.

He sat up, images of the worst immediately coming to mind. He looked to his other side and saw Ellie, fast asleep in her bedroll. `That calmed some of his nerves, but left a lot of his questions unanswered.

The sun was just barely beginning to rise in the east when he got up, looking around himself for any sign of Y/n. There were none. So, after glancing back one more time to make sure Ellie was safe, he picked a direction and began to walk, hoping to find the elder Pain in His Ass.

He wasn't sure how long he had walked before he found her. She was sitting on the forest floor with her back against the thick trunk of a tree, her knees tucked up to her chest with Joel's jacket draped over them. She looked up when he came around, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen.

For a moment, neither of them said anything, merely accepting the others' presence.

"I'm sorry I took your jacket." Y/n said. Her voice was rough and gravelly, and Joel discovered with surprise that he had almost forgotten what it sounded like.

"Don't worry about it." he replied. "Mind if I sit?"

She said nothing, giving a small nod and turning back to stare off into the distance. Joel moved to sit down next to her, grimacing at the pain in his joints as he did so. Y/n continued to sit like there was no one else there, her blank gaze focused on the horizon.

Joel had a pretty good idea what was bothering her. She had shot someone. And what was worse, she'd left them in pain. He almost thought it would've been better if she'd have killed him with the first bullet.

"Y/n—"

"He was crying for his mom." she said suddenly, cutting him off. "He was crying for his mom and you shot him."

Joel went silent for a moment. He'd had to do things he never imagined himself doing — that had been one of them. "I couldn't take the risk."

She knew what he meant, of course. She understood why he'd done it. And, most of all, she was almost sure that if she'd been in his position, she'd have done the same thing. But seeing firsthand what it looked like to beg for your life reminded her of things she'd rather leave in the past.

"My father was a smuggler." Y/n said, her voice hollow. "We never asked what he did; we just knew that, because of what he did, we lived a lot better than a lot of other people. I'm not really sure what he did — if he had made a bad deal, or double crossed someone that shouldn't be crossed, but I woke up on Christmas morning to gunshots coming from my living room. I should've stayed in my room, I know. But I couldn't just sit there and wait. My whole family was down there. So, I went to see if my dad was okay. He was dead before I got down the stairs. My mom grabbed me and my sister as these three guys pointed guns at our faces. She was screaming at them, begging them not to take her children, begging them to take mercy on us. All three of them shot at once."

Her voice stayed firm and toneless as she spoke. "By the time the bullet hit, I had accepted that I was going to die. My eyes shut and I never once thought they'd open again. But..." Y/n pulled down the hemline of her shirt an inch to reveal a thick white scar just below her collarbone, "fate took pity on me that day. Marlene found me just before I bled out. She kept me alive. And when I woke up, I was in the worst pain I'd ever experienced. All I could do was scream for my mom, ask if she was okay. I never got a straight answer, but I already knew what had happened. I just didn't want to believe it."

Joel listened carefully, his and Ellie's conversation echoing in his mind:

"She's got some rough family stories."

"We all do."

"Not like hers."

She was only seventeen years old — he knew that from the beginning. But now that truly seemed to sink in as he looked at her, sitting with her knees tucked to her chest, huddled under his blanket like it was a coat of armor.

"You shouldn't have had to see that," he said. "No one should."

Y/n nodded in agreement. She knew that it wasn't fair. That none of this was fair. But that didn't change that it had happened, or that she'd have to carry it with her wherever she went. It never really got lighter — that was the thing. All the memories did was get harder and harder to hold.

Her glass expression shattered then as she turned to him, tears falling out of her eyes before she could stop them. "I'm trying so hard to hang on, Joel, I really am," she said, her voice finally breaking. She all but collapsed, leaning her head on his shoulder as hers began to shake with sobs.

It had taken Joel years not to see Sarah in every kid he met — but things always fell through the cracks. When he'd least expect it, a sudden laugh or sarcastic comment would take him back to Austin, back to his daughter, and for a moment he'd almost forget that she was gone.

This was one of those times.

"Oh, Y/n," Joel said quietly, wrapping an arm around her. This girl was not Sarah. No one would ever be Sarah. But right then, Joel was almost sure that she was the closest he was ever going to get at a second chance.

"I'm sorry I don't listen," Y/n said through tears. "I know I need to set a good example for Ellie, but if we lose you...I can't be sure I can get her to the Fireflies by myself. We need you. I..."

She stopped herself just short of saying I need you.

"Hey, it's alright. It's okay. You're not gonna lose me." Joel said. "And sometimes...sometimes you just can't listen. You can't take unnecessary risks, but sometimes the situation demands them. You have the sense to know when that is. The world needs more people like that. Like you.

"Don't even think about losing anyone, okay? You just can't. This whole thing, it's like walking on a tight rope. You look down, that's where you're going. So don't look down."

Y/n was coming back to her senses by now, her shoulders stilling and her tears coming to a steady stop. She nodded, wiping away at the last few stray tears and sitting up. "Don't look down," she repeated. "Is that why you're so grumpy all the time? Because you're always looking down?"

She sort of half-smiled in a way that reminded him so starkly of Sarah that he almost forgot to breathe. But he recovered, giving her a wry grin in return. "It's questions like that that make me want to throw you in a lake."

"Please, with your balance, you'd throw yourself in before anyone else."

#the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller #ellie williams #tlou #tlou show #tlou hbo #the last of us fanfiction

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yutasbimil · 1 year

Text

Frisky

kenma x fem!oc | haikyuu ff. (time-skip!older kenma) ✦ (3/~) [series fic] !!! also posted on my ao3 acc! { here } tags: fluff, slight angst (not really), smut cw: nsfw minors dni, minor plot, fingering, oral, teasing, established relationship, kinky, orgasm denial, quickie, public sex, fingering, edging, swallowing, exhibitionism(?) HELP THIS IS NEW TO ME ACK, interrupted lol, FLUFF!!! D; note: not that comfy w/ 2nd POV, tho no specific characteristics are mentioned on the fem!oc so pls feel free to imagine as y/n or YOU ♡ word count: 3.9k

part 1 | part 2

"She's as shy as you, huh?"

Kenma looked in the direction Hinata was looking at, and there he saw across the room, his girlfriend handling some of her daily dose of required socialization for the day. It looks like she's stammering over talking to some Karasuno players.

"She actually handles conversation better than I do, to be honest," Kenma responds, and at the back of his mind, he suppresses a grin.

If only he knew how she can be wild and explorative on other terms. Though, of course, he wouldn't actually let Hinata know that piece of information 'bout her girl.

Kenma kept a bashful smile to himself.

It's no surprise she got close with Kenma the most. She’s usually an anxious person. But the quietness and softness of the guy’s presence go beyond easing her nerves. Mai is scared of tall people, especially men. Though, she's got no problem with talking with her boyfriend’s best friends and her seniors.

It’s also child’s play to see a (preferred color)-haired fellow shaking in a sea of red and black and expect it to be Mai.

Three teams are scheduled to have a team play practice for the week. Though, the game sets are almost finished for the day, hence why it's cooling down at the moment.

Kenma felt a cold bottle by his forearm, turning to expect a gleeful orange-haired guy near him.

“No wonder she’s friends with your girlfriend,” Kenma muttered.

Hinata raised a brow, following Kenma’s line of vision, directing at Yachi and Mai.

“Huh? She’s not my girlfriend.” Hinata says, keeping an eye on the girls. Hinata almost put a foot forward as the two girls flinched at some Shiratorizawa players, particularly the tall red-haired male with a big smirk on his face.

Mai also shared how that guy gives her the creeps. He can be quite unpredictable.

For a while, Hinata breathes out, followed by a grin as the other girl manages to answer the tall male. “Oh, so that’s your girlfriend, Kenma-san.”

“Don’t say ‘girlfriend’ too much.” he scratches the side of his face, flustered by the attention since earlier but nods. “Yes. I'll introduce her to you later.”

He walks out of the court, managing to divert the attention off his reddened ears.

Mai can be the bravest person he knows if it's about pushing herself to the edge or trying out new things. And Kenma knows he is one of the forces that influence her to do better outside her comfort zone, and vice versa.

It just so happens they are also on the same page in terms of sex.

It can be in terms of letting her lay on her back and testing her gag reflex through mouth-fucking her. Other specific situations would be doing the riskiest shits in-game, or while they're in a call with their friends. With Mai in between his legs as they're trying their best to conceal the fact that he's getting the best head whilst leading their game. Even stepping it up a notch further by doing it while they’re on their casual call in their Disharmony server.

Hell, Kenma also didn't know he had that in him and would be interested in those types of kinks.

Looks like he's been corrupted. Mai and her corruption kink winning.

Mai would be "mad" at that for blaming her. He already can hear her sassing him how: "You're kinky! I'm just bringing out your fullest potential."— As if she's the one who is responsible for that.

Well, if that's the case… I'll make her responsible.

Kenma felt a tent standing up by his gym shorts, much to his uncomfiness. Man, what an inconvenience.

And this is all just for letting his mind trail off to Mai.

It’s not anything related to her personally, or that they got any issues going on. But Mai noticed a slight distant or odd atmosphere between them, more so as they met eyes. Or rather, it passes through with Kenma immediately diverting his glances from her and looking away.

He seems to stifle something at the back of his throat, but she can’t quite pinpoint it. Kenma’s expression is hidden behind his hand on his face.

“You okay, Yachi-san?” Hinata picks up the last of the volleyballs on the ground. They’re about to wrap up the practice matches.

“J-just tired, I guess. I never had the chance to accommodate three teams in one gym.” she pried as she helps Mai with the other end of the net. Mai just quietly nods in agreement, there’s also an obvious tiredness in her dragging her feet.

Kenma feels a strong gaze towards him, it’s anything else but the anxious eyes that he saw from Mai earlier. It may be the effect he has on easing her but noticing a hint of depth and darkness on it. He can’t help but let a cold sweat slip off his head, swallowing a bit of saliva left from his dry throat.

The game sets parched him.

He glances back at her as if they’re dancing through glances. Hers didn’t seem to waver. It’s the same firm look as she’s not much anxious going down on him, even while streaming, she even manages to give him head despite the possible consequences. With him being quiet– She really admires how he can still play well and concentrate as if she isn’t there to distract him– though now, his quietness is not much at the advantage as maybe Mai thought they have a problem.

But this is not even about asserting a stand. Yet she still manages and knows she got him on the edge at the palm of her hands, quite literally.

Pulling him back into reality, was the dry towel hitting him and a look from Mai cold as the water handed to him, obviously a pout written on her lips.

I’ve got to tell her.

"Let's go change together." With no spare clothes at hand, it was more of an initiator from Kenma to tease Mai. He didn’t have any shame blurting that out as they were at a bit more secluded part of the courtyard. More on the supply closet behind the gym. But it still gave Mai a burning blush to hear that out loud from Kenma.

"Dummy, that's not allowed!" she smacks his shoulder, and the added skin contact didn’t help.

"So?" Kenma kept a stoic face just remaining his stare at her till she melted.

"Noooo! You're giving me ideas." Mai went in and covered her whole face. Is he darn serious just now?!

Of course, it was just to tease her, and it worked.

He stifled a laugh.

Mostly the reason he joked was to just initiate from the awkward atmosphere, but now that they have gone quiet again. Both of their mouths agape, as if racing to who can speak and tell each concern first.

They talked over each other at the same time.

“Mai.”

“Ken, I–”

The girl didn’t manage to finish laying out her thoughts as she was suddenly sneaked into the supply closet with him. With her back thumping lightly on the wall, the other spare balls even quiver as they hear people pass by the door.

As if panicked, she also held her breath as Kenma pinned her down in between his arms to stay put. It was only momentarily, though Mai had confusion outlined on her brows.

“Why did you need to hide us here though?”

Kenma’s silence also picked up on the unnecessary reaction. It just happened. His grip losing on her shoulders also signaled him to calm down. “Out of instinct, I guess.”

He could only answer, though, he was also thinking about where to treat her for later. What was he supposed to say again? The supply closet isn’t the most tasteful idea to come up as a ‘date’ with to be real. Kenma does have the same closeness and intimacy like this in mind though.

His proximity and the quietness to the point she can hear his breathing distinctly on her end though... It didn’t help much further on her ‘overlooked issues’ as to why they were put to discuss in the first place.

“Off topic but want to make this quick?” Kenma asks out of the blue. It is not off-topic on what she had in mind though, but it seems that they’re not far in their in-the-gutter thoughts.

Even though it’s not well lit up in the small space, Kenma has his face close to hers, he must take precautions. He does have those types of thoughts in mind, but he has to make sure.

Lightening up the mood again, trying, he says. “Are you okay… making this quick? If I take the lead?”

“Eh?” Like lead in what way? Mai is thinking of something else, but she’s not absolutely sure. Mai rubs her legs. Is he joking again?

But by his look, he's looking straight at her. Seriously, if I may add.

The unintentional friction she just did was a very bad idea, adding his deep stare at her.

Kenma inches closely to her carefully, checking if she's okay with it. There’s a shift in his tone as she’s still not budging nor getting any utterance out of her.

“Are you still upset over something that has to do with your look the whole day?”

So that was what he meant by the quick pace in mind? Well, on his part, Kenma is considerate. He knows she wants to talk about something as well.

She places her fingers lightly by his shoulder, barely pressing weight. Is that how it came across to him? Oh no.

Mai shakes her head. “It's not that I'm mad or anything… no.”

She’s got her own issues as well, that’s all… Looking down, she saw how Kenma’s pants aren't much ready to spell out his problems yet, so Mai started. I am getting him worked out ever since earlier as well, is that it?

“I’m just… aroused.” She hopes at the back of her mind as well, he’s feeling the same by the bop of his Adam’s apple.

Kenma blinks. “W-what?”

She rubs her legs once more, uncontrollably flustered.

“It’s just I saw how good you were– I mean, you’re always great as a setter– but I think it’s my hormones… it’s really been a while since I saw you guys play, an-and on how fired up you were earlier. I only see that whenever you’re playing against Shoyo’s team– I just found you hot.”

She barely got through, stumbling over her words on how fast she was sputtering her words.

He could only be rendered speechless by his girlfriend’s act.

All this time, it’s the same with Kenma.

So… what the fuck? They were just looking sullen all day because they were preying and just have the hots for each other???

“Is t-that so?” His sigh of relief came off as a chuckle. Good. It was just a different kind of tension. Period.

She just prolonged it but it’s basically what got her so worked up. Especially how Kenma is so fixated on how she's acting right now. She could only swallow up a bit of her hydration left, looking away at anything but his body.

His tone is in a controlled volume, speaking discreetly, he repeats his intention earlier now that that’s settled, with more bluntness now... “Want me to do something about it?”

“I’m fine with the idea…” Mai answered with an inquisitive look. With her grip on his arms, he took it as a cue to dive in.

He didn't waste any time as Kenma leaned in, pressing his body close to hers. Quite intensely, it is seen with his fervor pressing how much he was containing it all day. A bit too quick on how he’s shifting his touches by her hair, face, and her sides. But she’s as roused, Mai went to grab his hand, guiding him to put it up her shirt, pulling his hair with her other free hand.

“Mai…” He delves deeper into nibbling her lips.

She could only emit a deep sigh and moan in response, Kenma’s hand was already up her shirt, lifting the fabric of her shirt up. Just a bit that her bra is showing. He leans closer, sweats peeking through the fabric, further verifying her heated arousal.

Kenma places kisses by the gaps of her chest, in between her breasts. She stifles a mewl. “Hnm..gah… you’re giving me a hard time not to be quiet.” She whispers to the best of her ability. He continues to lick her skin, nibbling at the bare skin. He draws her bra up to uncover her nipples, both quickly at peak due to the handling of his lips and fingers.

Even with his look alone, she can feel his erratic touches pressing against hers. He moves up eye-level again, pressing both her arms up, she gets conscious and nervous at both her sweaty hands. Kenma remains persistent, pressing her down. This definitely will cause her to pool down her panties further.

He’s really going this far for a ‘quickie’ huh? Still keeping her arousal in mind, or is this one of his antics again? It’s painstakingly slow. Kenma knows this is too much risky and anxiety-inducing, yet… her wetness says otherwise.

Goddammit.

Her mind is hazy and clouded already– Mai no longer has any care for anything. She just wants to get this over with, this is beyond the waters that she expects to swim into, but the compulsive effect on her.

She wants more.

“J-just a bit, more…” Her moan spills as a restrained sigh. She practically begs as he’s touching anything, anything– but the gap between her legs. His hands lingered by the surface of her skirt. Mai hitches her breath as he skips over her core once again. “It’s been this morning that I wanted to touch myself, please? Kenma-kun…”

Man, he really did get her so aroused.

Kenma can’t even refuse especially since how she’s being too insistent and irresistible. He’s growing more turned on looking at how she’s desperate.

She’s not the type to want and be needy as she gets anxious, most definitely here where it’s a bit public. But to insist on making out in the open, the footsteps and shoe squeaks outside seem earshot close for their comfiness. It’s also thrilling.

Risky mode taken then.

Like a button that swiftly pressed on her skin, Mai lodging her lips passionately on his was the trigger that pushed them to go further. The hormones took over and blacked out a bit of Kenma’s control, grabbing hold of her waist a bit too lewdly on his torso. He humps his groin by hers, making her emit a sound unintentionally.

“Uh-hmm…” he tries to quiet her down again with a kiss, reaching under her skirt but it didn’t add to helping her shush. Kenma pulls away with a slight grin at his discovery of her bare legs.

“Why are you not in your gym shorts, hmmm?”

She's only wearing her skirt.

Mai feels Kenma’s veiny hands creep up her skirt, he pulls it up as he is staring into her eyes with a fiery passion. She felt the cold air expose her bare skin.

Even with the shelves blocking them, it still feels… embarrassing.

“Stop teasing, Kenma…” He just touches her, a bit damp from the sweat.

He gets down, lowering himself to his knees to take in the view of her. She's flushed red, with his eyes piercing through her as he breathes over her crotch.

She feels herself pool more.

“I spilled water earlier when I was preparing bottles, just before we’re wrapping up. That’s why… hngh… I changed–”

Her breath becomes off, turning shaky with his roaming and pressing fingers against the hem of her panties.

She gulps a breath.

“Always so clumsy of you, Mai,” he comments, now she’s wet for a whole entirely different reason. Both her legs gave up, her voice faltering after. “Haa…uh.”

She holds back a yelp, Kenma motions to stand her up again. “Stay still, Mai,” he instructs. But she almost buckles her legs as she had gone weak on his teasing.

Kenma licks her neck and bites her ear, making her let out a lewd mewl.

Almost like a purr by her ear, he whispers. “Keep quiet, Kitten.”

“H-how? You idio—”

Kenma suddenly touches her panties, sticky from her juices. She can no longer retort with how embarrassingly wet her pussy is already.

He cannot hold back any longer.

“Weren’t you also practically begging me to do this to you?” A thought also came into mind with Mai leaving traces and implications along the lines of ‘Kabedon’ for some time now, and her insistence to get one from him. He’s not one to disappoint, so okay, fine. Even if it’s not something on his alley. Kenma did the favor to make Mai’s dream come true.

He pins both of her hands harder, pressing them to the wall along with his face right up against her ear. Her mind burns with the idea.

Kenma continues by switching his grip on her hands with only one hand. He trails his finger by her swollen lips then lifting her chin using the other as he makes her look at her. “Answer me, Kitten.”

What the fuck is with the pet name?!

She swallows, having not been given a choice to escape. “Ye-yeah... but not in this setting.”

Not at this time at all that she imagines they’ll be doing this out and about. He’s practically falling apart as he is having a great time teasing her.

Both of her hands are locked, though loose enough to roam around his neck. She shudders at his hot breath near her sensitive ears. She doesn’t give in to freeing her hands, even as he’s pulling her closer into the kiss. She simply submits to Kenma.

He adjusts her legs, carrying her till she’s got her legs wrapped up in his drenched torso.

This is really out of character for Kenma, but seeing how Mai is so hot and bothered he gives in along with his sigh. Even if he does want to go down on her.

“We better make this quick,” he says, Mai practically breaks character as she squeals in delight, to put it bluntly. “You’re the best, Kenma.” she hugs him, a bit tangent to her smiling as if they’re not about to do something intense.

She tightens her legs around him momentarily before he puts them away. He pulls her panties to the side and then decides to pull them down, leaving one side on her leg.

She smiles to herself as she knows she would be well taken care of.

Her mind raced a thousand miles. As if honing to type paragraphs worth of worshiping his pretty long hands going in and out of her while his other is placed on her mouth to shut her pretty lips sealed.

Kenma quickly goes down, with her holding up her skirt as she tries to cover her whimpers.

He’s taking his good damn time eating her out, spreading his tongue by her clit and core back and forth. She holds back her arousal at how up to par he is slurping and sucking so loud.

Everything felt so soft and moist, it’s so fucking pleasing to the sensation. “Ahh, that’s-shit. Ha…” Her tone came off jittery. She wants to scream, but she needs to hold back every ounce of her patience, she's already trembling at this point.

Even the feeling of her breasts is phenomenal, how his free hand can bring her service, Kenma doesn't leave any neglect of any form. She cannot leave any praise for now as she’s opted to be quiet, even so, her mumbles are shaky to be coherent. Mai could only caress his skin, playing with his hair and gripping onto him as well to distract herself from moaning.

Mai fails miserably to be quiet so Kenma did the lovely favor with his pretty hands to cover her mouth and shut her up.

Using his lips as well as he pumps his finger into her, he thrusts in deeper along his fervent kiss, letting Mai taste herself in the kiss.

He moves his two digits all over in a different direction and speed, spilling more of her arousal tightening around him.

Just when Mai is about to cum, Kenma’s hand withdraws.

As he stopped his fingers, she winces. Mai turned to him with the most confused expression upon seeing Kenma's deadpan stare.

In the most serious tone, he says. “Your trial has expired.”

“Kozumeeee!” She almost whispered a hiss, Kenma covered her mouth, hand still drenched in her juices.

She is supposed to be mad, but Mai quickly catches on with another rustle nearby. They’re cut a bit short cause he also heard someone outside. When the sound subsided, the heightened sensation quickly shifted with Mai feeling his hardened length pushed into her in a cinch.

Kenma had prepared her wet core well as to why his movements easily let his dick go in and out of her. And the tightness in her is just unholy.

“Fuck, shh-“ He also covered her mouth as sounds slip off uncontrollably. “Ah-mmhm.”

The two especially Mai tried their best to muffle her moans.

The thrill of it all being outside— the possibility of getting caught—really did add factors for her part. Even the moist wall she grabbed hold of it, she loses all her senses as Kenma fucks her senseless to the wall. The sound of skin slapping and the feeling of him grabbing hold of both her waist to maneuver inside her. As much as she doesn’t want this to end, fuck- this is so risky.

Mai holds onto his wrist, tapping it a bit as a signal that she’s close— it’s not that much of a gap between them when Kenma let her go down to her knees to catch every ounce of his cum in her mouth as he ejaculates.

That was mentally exerting.

Another rustling outside became an indication to stop, but they laughed it off anyways, they quickly fixed their clothes. But Mai steals another kiss before breaking off. This is anything on her agenda for today. Kissing by the side of the gym, a supply closet even. Good thing she had her schedule free. It isn't such a bad idea after all…

Wait, oh right— wasn’t he supposed to say something else before they got wrapped up in the pleasure too much?

“What was it that you’re going to tell me?” she asks with burning cheeks. After a long-heated kiss, (the last kiss was a lie) for the last time as Mai insisted, lips still fresh on a string of saliva.

“Oh, it’s just I wanted to treat you along after training.” Kenma replies. He had been thinking the whole morning as to why he was also a bit preoccupied.

“We’ll also be there! Now, can you please hand me out some extra balls, Kozume? I didn't let yours turn blue— so get to it!” They heard a sudden thump by the door. Both of them flinched. Kenma covered her mouth, frantic as he looked back at her as wide-eyed as him. They hear Kuroo now adjacent to the wall as his voice is now louder. “How long are you going to keep yourselves in there?”

The two flushed a shade darker, their friend did the favor to pretend it was just Kenma in here and not blow their cover huh?

As for Kuroo, he’s heard at least more than enough that he should’ve left sooner.

※ my masterlist | #enjeiwrites ※

#kenma kozume #kenma #kenma fluff #kenma smut #kodzuken #nekoma #kenma: flushed series #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu fic #enjeiwrites #MYGOODNESS THIS TOOK ME SO LONG IM ALIVE YALL

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